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starlightsearches · 3 years ago

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(if you aren't taking any more requests from the smut prompt list, ignore this ^_^)

19 + 100 from the smut prompt list with zemo pls and thanks

What I Missed the Most

19 and 100 from the Smut Prompts List

Inspired by this gif

Zemo x femme! reader

Warnings: 18+ Only (Minors DNI), PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, virgin! reader, sex work, prostitution, praise kink, soft dom/sub dynamics, creampie. Please be aware of the warnings!

It's strange to stand like this—so stiff and detached, practically naked in the lingerie and robe the madam had picked out for you. You're used to sitting coyly on the edge of a couch until someone makes their approach, skin glittering prettily in the partial darkness of the club. The room looks much too large when it’s flooded with the emergency lighting—used during the daylight hours when the club is closed—and the air is chilled with the lack of bodies.

The mysterious patron, who had everyone in such a fuss this morning, is making his way down the line with the madam at his side—a quiet, thoughtful frown on his lips. It’s difficult not to stare, but your instincts keep your eyes from resting on him for too long. You’ll have to settle for the small details you catch in glimpses.

He's well-dressed—a long coat thrown over his shoulders, and a well-fitted turtle-neck sweater beneath it. It sits snugly over his torso, hinting at a muscular build. The rest of him is unkempt in comparison; his hair just a bit shaggy, a few tendrils curling against his forehead. Most of his face is taken over by a dark beard, and he can't keep his hands away from it, scratching at his jawline beneath or dragging a palm down over his mouth. He must not be used to keeping facial hair.

"And who is this?" He stops before you, his voice low and pleasant, carrying an accent you can't identify. You do your best to look demure, glancing up at him shyly through your lashes as the madam gives him your name.

Dark brown eyes trace over your features carefully, the seconds melting into minutes under the warmth of his gaze. The intensity brings a heat to your cheeks; you find yourself staring at your reflection in his well-shined shoes.

“How much?”

The madam clears her throat awkwardly, but it's all part of her act. She could smell money on a man like blood in the water, and she always knew which veins to open first.

"You wouldn't want her, Baron," she says, trying unsuccessfully to usher him down to the next girl, "we're charging quite a price for her first time. Why don't I introduce you to Cassandra here—"

He stops her with a raised hand, tilting his head curiously. "Her first time?”

"Oh yes," the madam confides. She leans in, whispering up against the shell of his ear, so close it’s incredible she doesn’t leave traces of her bright red lipstick smudged against his skin. "I have a few loyal customers who are quite eager to, let's say, take her innocence."

She pets her bony fingers down the side of your face, and you purse your lips, trying hard not to roll your eyes. You'd hardly call yourself innocent.

“How much?”

The madam's lips stretch open over her too-white teeth, and she whispers again in his ear. He doesn't pause to think on it.

“I’ll take her.”

Your eyes grow wide, jaw clenched tight. No doubt the number she named was outrageous, preparing for his attempts to bargain. Accepting the very first offer would be insane.

"Perfect." Her voice is dripping with glee when she addresses you, "why don't you show our guest to one of our private rooms?"

You nod, taking him by the hand. The main floor of The Elysian is a veritable minefield of chintz cushions and plump couches, and you weave with him between the empty furniture, hoping he doesn't notice the growing layer of perspiration coating your palm.

The silence between you grows more noticeable as you shut the door to the sound-proofed room, the plush carpet crackling with every step.

You glance around. You haven't spent much time here, but you’re glad to see that the private rooms are a little more tasteful than what you’re used to. There's a leather couch up against the wall, and a large, low bed with silk sheets, a few multi-colored lanterns hanging from the ceiling, throwing specks of light across the bed.

He busies himself near the couch, oblivious to your presence—removing his coat and draping over the back, taking the watch from his wrist and placing it in the pocket. He pushes the sleeves of his sweater out of the way next, revealing toned forearms dusted with bronzed hair.

You clear your throat, brushing the top of one foot over the back of your calf, unsure if you're meant to be doing something.

This is your first time, after all. You were hoping for some direction.

"You may take a seat," he says, nodding towards the bed, and you do as you're told immediately, perching on the end of it, hands folded in your lap.

"I am Baron Helmut Zemo," he says, coming to a stop beside you and dropping to one knee, "but you may call me sir."

His fingers wrap around your bare thigh, hand shifting back and forth as he caresses your skin, acclimating you to his touch. He has nice hands—long, thick fingers and clean nails, and his palm is warm and soft.

"Thank you, sir," you say, addressing his hand.

"Look at me," the command is gentle, but it is still a command. You tilt your chin up just far enough that you can meet his eyes. "Is it true that you're a virgin?"

Your mouth is dry. "Yes, sir."

His fingers flex subtly, hand shifting higher. You try not to squirm.

“You don’t need to lie to me.”

Given how much he probably paid, it would be in your best interest to lie to him. If you weren’t already telling the truth.

"I am a virgin—" you confirm, and he quirks one brow, waiting for you to remember, "—sir."

The baron hums, deep in his throat. "That is good news. You see, I had selfish reasons for my choice. It has been a long time since I have been with a woman. I did not want to embarrass myself."

That’s a surprise. A man as handsome as him shouldn't have any trouble finding someone willing.

You chance some contact, stroking your fingers lightly over his shoulder, hoping you’ve found the correct balance between sympathy and flirtation. "Why so long?"

"I've been in prison for many years. A high-security facility called The Raft, for only the most dangerous of criminals."

Your hand stops.

He watches you, waiting for a reaction—surprise, or fear. You certainly feel a bit of both.

But which does he want? Some men certainly liked to feel you shiver, liked to murmur violent stories low in your ear as you perched on their laps. The feeling of their hands never left you, phantom limbs still gripping at your waist, ensuring that you couldn’t pull away, laughing at the way you squirmed. Fear sated better than sex ever could for men like that.

The baron doesn’t seem that way.

"Really?" you ask, sounding a little more naive than you feel. He seems to like it, moving his hand to the back of the neck, thick fingers wrapping around it, hot and tight against your skin.

His eyes bore into yours; with the way he's holding you, you can't drop his gaze. "Do you know what I missed the most while I was there?"

You manage the slightest shake of your head. His skin is dotted with freckles where the beard doesn’t reach, and there are dark shadows like fingerprints beneath his eyes.

“This.”

He breathes the word, breath warm with the scent of money and men, and then he's kissing you, mouthing gently at your parted lips.

Oh. It's not like you'd never done this before—you hadn't gotten such a dedicated customer base batting your eyelashes—but he is leagues better at it than the others, his beard a little rough against your cheeks, the cashmere of his sweater soft beneath your fingers.

He groans faintly, pressing closer, the tip of his nose digging in against your cheek as his tongue finds its way between your parted lips. His hand shifts from your neck, cupping your jaw, and he uses that leverage to his advantage—adjusting your movements to his liking, controlling the pace. Your fingers encircle his wrist, hoping to keep him there.

It’s not like you to get so caught up in something like this, but you find the more you touch him, the more you want to feel—a warmth like whiskey blossoming in your stomach at the thought of the full press of his body against yours.

He shifts off his knees, pulling away from your lips despite your attempts to keep him close. His thick fingers are at the buckle of his belt, unlatching the metal and pulling the leather strap free. Your thighs press tighter of their own accord, an unfamiliar anticipation enveloping your core.

“You may be a virgin, but given the circumstances I'm sure you're not completely ignorant,” he says over the metallic jingle of his belt buckle and the rumble of his zipper, “show me what you know.”

The baron steps forward, looming, coming closer and closer until your eyes are level with his waist, your line of sight filled completely by the thin sliver of skin and coarse, shining hair that stretches up from the band of his dark black boxers. Your gaze trails lower—slowly—examining him like a fine work of art, lips parting in surprise when you spy the thick bulge straining against the expensive fabric. He’s bigger than you expected.

He must notice your apprehension, a smirk on his lips staining the words he speaks next.

“Go on,” he encourages, taking your hand delicately in his own, leading you where he wants, pressing your palm against the hard length, the rush of blood and heavy weight of his cock solid beneath your fingers.

Your lips part with a pop, mouth flooded with saliva that coats your tongue. You press it between your teeth, wetting your lips, picking up the latent taste of him. It’s irresistible. You want more.

He exhales sharply through his teeth, bracing himself with a hand in your hair as you pull his cock from its confines.

Jesus, he’s thick. Even half-hard, he’s bigger than most—the tips of your fingers just barely brushing your thumb when you stroke him experimentally. You’re not sure how much of him you’ll be able to take, throat aching at the thought. The air in the room is heavy in your lungs.

“Don’t tease me, hase,” he admonishes, pulling you forward until your mouth brushes against the tip of his dick, painting your lips with sticky pre-cum. “I have no desire to be patient right now.”

Swallowing, you pull closer, taking the tip into the warm center of your mouth, tonguing softly at the slit, sealing your lips and pulling your cheeks in tight. He sighs, shifting his hips forward, filling your mouth and stretching your jaw, pressing down until your lips meet your curled fingers. Spit pools against his skin, and you spread it with your hand, stroking in the space where your mouth can’t reach.

You can feel him growing thicker, the muscles in his fingers tensing against your scalp as you begin to bob your head, sucking your cheeks in tighter.

“Oh, you’re a very good girl, aren’t you? Just like that, hase.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, it’s brightness echoed in the warmth at your core. It’s easy to imagine how he must look, those broad shoulders dropping lower, neck stretched long and tense, his molten eyes leaving cigarette burns on the backs of his eyelids and his lips parted in prayer.

As soon as you’ve pictured it, your body screams for more—desperate to watch him fall apart in your mind’s eye, addicted to the idea of undoing such an enigmatic, powerful man. Your fist tightens around his dick, and you stretch yourself farther, taking more and more until the head of his cock nudges your soft palate, eliciting a quiet gagging sound with each press. Stinging tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

His fist tightens in your hair, urging you away from him with a few whispered curses, pouring from his lips in a language you don’t understand. You do as he asks, pulling back until you’re only connected to his cock by a few strings of saliva.

“God, schatz—” he strokes his thumb over your wet and swollen lips, “you are beautiful.”

Your nails press crescent moons against your thighs. He’s breathing heavily, standing before you like a god, or an emperor. He’s the kind of man who could have you willingly on your knees.

“Thank you, sir.”

He strokes his hand down over your shoulder, eyeing the delicate lace that covers your body. “Lay down.”

You shift back against the pillows as the baron stands at the end of the bed, stripping off his sweater. He’s well-toned, but not bulky—arms corded with muscle he’s clearly put to use for more than just vanity, broad chest peppered with ruddy hair, and constellations of freckles on both his shoulders.

“Do you like what you see, hase?” he asks once he’s fully naked, standing before you without shame. He observes you closely, noticing the way your eyes travel over the ruddy skin of his neck, the gentle swell of his stomach, his cock hard and thick and ready for you. Your cunt aches at the sight of him.

“Yes, sir.” You’re unable to control the shift of your hips, the way your body yearns. You want him on top of you, want his hands at your waist, want his lips against every inch of your body.

You want him inside you.

He climbs onto the bed, stradling your body, and you support your weight on your arms in an attempt to bring your face in closer proximity to his own. His eyes wander over your features, lingering against your lips. You resist the urge to close the gap, despite the overwhelming strength of your desire. You're here to meet his needs.

But maybe your needs align in this moment—or maybe he likes the hint of desperation in your features—because he cups your jaw in his warm palm, eyes exploring the recesses of your soul as he pulls you in.

You kiss him back eagerly, letting your hands caress his neck, stroking your ankle against his calf until he grants you the contact you've been hungry for, his chest and hips against yours, forcing your body further into the mattress. You relish the wandering burn of his hands, the wildfire path from your hips to your waist to your breasts. His touch lingers there, and your skin grows warm with a rush of blood as he pinches at the stiffened peaks of your nipples.

The air punches out of your chest, and the sound it makes is embarrassingly close to a whine, your hips canting off the sheets. He leans back, watching your lips tremble as he continues his ministrations.

"I think it's time for this to come off," he whispers, leaning in towards your thudding pulse as his hands reach for the clasp of your bra. The lace tickles at your skin, stripped forward until you're bare. He tosses the garment to the side, pressing firm kisses across your jaw, down your neck.

"I may have lied before, hase," he says, and the air is filled with quiet reverence as he stares at your naked breasts. "This is what I truly missed the most."

There’s no space for you to reply before his lips are on you, lavishing the tender skin of your chest with hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses, the gentle bites in direct contrast to the sharp burn of his beard. He's fully engrossed in the task, ignorant of the way you watch him partake in this thorough worship, nibbling meticulously at the surrounding area before closing his lips around your aching nipple, sucking it between his teeth. Your back arches harshly, head thrown back, and you let his strong arms support your weight as he turns his attention to the other breast.

You dig your nails into his skin, gripping the back of his neck, hard enough to make him bleed. Maybe if you peeled the skin from his bones, he'd finally feel close enough.

“Oh god, please,” you grind against him, your voice going shrill when the tip of his cock nudges haphazardly at your cunt, “please, sir. I want you inside me.”

He pauses his assault, stills his hips which had been rocking against yours with the same unchecked desire. He stays still enough for you to catch the gold flecks in his eyes, the wet shine of spit coating the dark hairs at the corners of his mouth.

There’s a tremor in his throat, a subtle shift as he adjusts his hands, pulling one arm tighter at your waist to give the other range of motion. His fingers tremble in the corner of your vision, and whatever it is he plans to do, he hesitates.

“Of course, schatz. Whatever you want,” he whispers, committing to the movement, stroking the tips of his fingers down the curve of your cheek, and you finally understand. Tenderness like that doesn’t belong in a place like this, between people like you.

He cups the back of your neck as your spine meets the cool sheets, his other hand at your hip, sliding the lace of your underwear down off your thighs and tossing them to the side.

“God . . . you’re so wet for me.” He strokes one thick finger between your thighs, just enough pressure to part your lips and gather your slick on the tip of his finger. “Are you always this wet, hase? Do you get like this when you're fucking yourself?"

You shake your head, although you can tell based on his tone that he already knows. He adjusts, shifting the bulk of his weight onto his thighs, removing his hips from yours and you stifle a whine at the loss. It breaks through your parted lips moments later as he presses the head of his dick against your swollen entrance.

He lingers there for a moment, stroking gently between your folds; there's not enough force behind the movement for him to slip inside you—only enough contact to make you squirm.

“Do you think you’re ready for me?”

You’ve never felt more ready for anything.

You can feel the pressure of his eyes, and so you know he must see the way your brows crease as your cunt stretches to accommodate that first, thick inch, must notice the rhythmic tensing in your core, the tremors in your thighs. You know he hears the strange cry that bursts from you—an intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain—because he stops, petting a hand over your hair.

“You can take me, hase. I know you can. Relax.” His breath is hot against your neck, and there’s a hand at your hip, holding you in place. “Relax.”

He mouths at your neck, tracing a meandering path to your lips. He moves closer, and closer, the tension draining from your body, putting a slight shift in your hips.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he warns, but the message is lost on both of you, his mouth fully on yours in a messy, desperate kiss. His thrusts grow more fervent, a little chorus of moans echoing in the space between you—his deep with attempted restraint, yours high and aching. You can feel the thrum of his heartbeat under your hand.

"You’re doing so well, hase,” he says, once he’s finally fully seated inside you, “tell me how it feels.”

You manage a breathy moan. The world is dark on the inside of your eyelids.

He gives you a moment to adjust, and you need it—overcome with a fullness you can’t quite comprehend. Your cunt bears down on his cock, muscles clenching like you’re trying to find the edges of him in the dark, like you’re trying to keep him in place.

You close your eyes tightly, hard enough that white spots appear in your vision, jaw open wide. You can’t imagine how devastating it will feel to be empty again.

His hands are harsh at your cheeks, biting against your skin. “No, hase. Keep your eyes open. Look at me.”

You don’t dare disobey, not that he gives you the opportunity to do so, his grip on your jaw tightening, the full force of his eyes on yours. He doesn’t let go, thrusting in and out of your dripping cunt, filling the room with the measured sound of skin against skin. His hips never stutter, his pace never fails, pounding you into the mattress as the friction builds into a white hot heat in your core.

He’s absolutely relentless.

He stares openly, intent on cataloging your every expression—from the slightest twitch in your temple to the wide stretch of your lips. You watch his eyes roam your face, watch the thin sheen of pride and sweat bead across his forehead with every successful moan he loosens from your throat. You’re only getting wetter—each thrust echoing with the wet splash of your cunt. You can feel it dripping down the curve of your ass, pooling beneath you.

He grunts, the first hints of his restraint fracturing, his jaw tight. “God, schatz. You are a miracle.”

His body moves against yours, adjusting your position, posing your body like a marionette with his free hand, his other never leaving your jaw. Your knee presses higher towards your chest under the weight of his palm, and you feel the burn of the stretch at the mouth of your pussy, every sensation heightened as he thrusts into you at this new angle.

Your neck stretches back, forcing your head against the pillow, and you can’t decide if there’s a ringing in your ears or if those noises are coming from you, in time with every thrust. The borders of your body grow blurry, dissolving as more and more of you is consumed by the feeling of him. Every muscle in your body goes tight. He’s so deep you can feel the head of his dick nudging at your soul.

“Are you close, hase?” he asks, and you nod into his palm, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.

His whisper reaches you through the oceans of your pleasure. “You can cum, schatz. Go on. Let go for me.”

The light inside you breaks once he’s given permission, pouring out in jagged shards, leaving no part of you untouched. Chill air brushes against sweaty skin, your back arching from off the sticky sheets, cunt clenched tight around his cock, holding him deep inside you. You feel remade, taken apart and put back together by his steady hands, forged anew under his warm, soft lips.

Your body fizzles, the result of some chemical transformation you don’t understand, only partially aware of his continued thrusts, the warm spill of his cum as he’s buried tight in your pussy, chest heaving against yours and his hand at your neck.

Puffs of hot air from his lungs dissipate against your collar bone, cooling the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you over him like a blanket holding you close until long after it dries. His fingers trace soft patterns over skin, tapping a melody only he can hear.

You give up on keeping your eyes open. His chest makes a comfortable pillow, with the untroubled beat of his heart and the safe harbor of his arms. It’s tempting to allow yourself to drift off; your heart twinges at the idea that you could fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

Like every other man, he must be able to sense the thoughts of commitment, because he sits up, shifting you from his lap—gently, at least. You can’t help the whine you let out when he slips his cock from inside you; your body left emptier than it had been before.

He smirks, sitting at the edge of the bed with his eyes directed between your thighs. Your skin grows flushed—feeling the slow drip of his cum slide out of your aching cunt. Your legs move to close, a sick feeling crawling over your skin. It feels wrong to have him look at you now that he’s gotten what he paid for.

He slips his fingers in the space between just before your thighs meet, catching the dripping spend on his thumb, spreading it across your tender opening, just barely brushing your clit. Your lips part with an unbidden moan.

"Still so needy, even after i just fucked you, hase?” he asks, the corner of his mouth turned up proudly, “that's good. I like my women insatiable."

He stands, all business as he grabs his clothing from the floor, reassembling his wardrobe. “We should be going,” he says, “there are places to be; I can have someone collect your things.”

He doesn’t notice your confusion, shrugging his coat over his shoulders, only turning back to you once he’s reached the door.

“Aren’t you coming, hase?”

“Coming? With you?”

“Of course, if you’d like,” he says. “You’d be taken care of, for as long as you choose to stay.”

There’s a warmth in your bones at the thought of it, even if it doesn’t make sense.

“Why me?”

“Schatz,” he walks back to you, petting a finger under your chin, “when I find something I like, I must have it.”

Tagging a few people who seemed interested: @reiaux, @valquiria3000

#hemut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo #helmut zemo fanfiction #baron zemo #baron zemo fanfiction #daniel brühl #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo smut #mcu fanfiction #tfatws #requests #my writing

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theyhaveacavetroll · 2 years ago

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Can you pls explain the Winx photosets you've been reblogging? I thought that was a live action remake of a cartoon about teen fairies that look like Bratz dolls with wings and could safely be ignored, but you're posting all these pics of a scruffy, bleeding DILF with a sword and major WOT warder vibes and now I'm very conflicted.

ok, so here's the thing: Winx is... something. On the one hand, it's a filling-less pie of a show that leaves me wanting to write fic if only to give it some of the emotional punch that it's lacking in spots. On the other hand - *motions to the gifsets* there is the aforementioned scruffy, bleeding DILF with a sword.

His name is Saul and look - I have a type, and that type is badass nice guys with a complicated past. He's there, he's got a nice accent, and he's going through it given he's raising his friend's son after his friend died, only whoops it turns out that the said friend was this guy (who Saul kinda thought he killed for Excellent Reasons):

Long story short, the guy's not dead, the whole situation is fucked because it turns out that Andreas (the friend) had reasons for what he was doing too. That doesn't make him less of a dick, however, and make no mistake, he is A Dick, thus leaving their mutual son in a really tough spot because Dad 1 (Saul) tried to kill Dad 2 (Andreas) but also Dad 2 is a dick who's working for someone certifiably evil. I'm personally kind of dubious that Dad 2 (Andreas) was acting entirely of his own accord because there is mind fairy fuckery going on. Anyone who has seen my October Daye posts knows that this is my jam. Fic to follow because this is my life now.

As for the show itself: There's some LGBTQ rep, the adult characters are interesting, the kid characters are ok in as far as they are in fact a bunch of largely dumbass teenagers doing dumbass teenager things, and the world building leaves a lot of room for interpretation and growth. And also, once again:

Additionally: I forgot to mention the found family that is abundant in this show.

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strawberryxpie · 4 years ago

Text

Little Salvatore

Not Having Fun

It's been about two months since you left Mystic Falls with your brother and Klaus. The next full moon is coming up tonight and you have no idea what to do, the last time Klaus and Stefan had forgotten and you turned in a hotel room and apparently bit Stefan. Klaus had healed him. Klaus was gathering information on a man named Ray Sutton. You don't know how he knows this guy is a wolf and you probably don't want to know. You are in Florida and Klaus is trying to get information from a guy that used to work with Ray, and by getting information that means using compulsion and feeding him to Stefan when he's gotten his information. You can hear screams, you look out the car window and see Klaus walking back, he gets into the drivers seat next to me. "Where to next?" You ask looking back out the window waiting on Stefan as he's probably putting the body back together. "You sound ready for this trip to be over. You're not having fun?" Klaus responds, "No Klaus I don't think sitting and waiting in a car while you and my brother kill innocent people is fun. Not to mention right now I'm trying to think of what to do tonight because, incase you forgot mr. Original hybrid, is a full moon!" You snap angrily. Klaus frowns, "I already have that planned after we are done here we will go so you can turn and then be back on the road when you're done." You roll your eyes, thankfully Stefan came back to the car and changed his shirt which grabbed Klaus' attention. "Done already?" Klaus asks. "He didn't put up much of a fight." Stefan said, you felt queasy, you are still getting used to people dying wherever you three show up. Klaus started driving, to pass the time you decided to take a nap.

You were outside play with your brothers and Katherine, you four were running through the garden when your father yelled for you. You walked towards him, "Yes, father?" You ask politely, seeing the angry look on his face he turns around and you follow picking the hem of your dress up. "Would you care to tell me why your mother's locket is missing from her dresser?" He asked, "Missing? Mother's locket is gone?" You asked shocked. "Don't acted shocked, you have wanted it since the day she passed! I know you have it you thieving abomination!" He shouted at you, "I only wanted it because she promised it to me for my birthday! I wouldn't steal it father!" You told him desperately knowing what would happen. He grabbed your arm roughly before slapping your face harshly. "STOP LYING!" He screamed, before you could respond he threw you to the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs you fell to the floor trying to regain your breath, your dressing making it hard to do so. Your father walked over kicking you in the stomach breaking your bottom left two ribs. "S-s-stop, pl-please." You sputtered spitting out blood as you spoke.

"Y/N, wake up." You heard a voice say softly pulling you out of your dream as they shake you. You gasped awake covered in sweat. You look around and see Klaus was the one waking you and you look out the window to see Stefan checking a wooded area. You look back to see Klaus looking at you eyes wide. "I'm sorry." You say, Klaus looks at you. "Why would your own father do that?" Klaus said softly. "Do what?" You played dumb, "Your dream I didn't mean to pry but when I grabbed your arm it pulled me in." He said, you knew about vampires abilities to get in people's heads. "Well, he wasn't my real father. Elijah said his father wasn't yours. So you can probably understand when you're different and your father isn't your real father, how they get." You said quietly. He nodded, "How did people not help you?" He asked, "Well, Kat did. That was actually the day I found out what she was. She healed me and tried to protect me from that day forward. The others in town pretended they didn't know, because my father was so influential." You explained, he just nodded. Stefan then came back to the car, "Seems safe, this is where we're having you turn." Stefan explained opening your door. You got out and noticed it was getting dark, Stefan handed you a water bottle mixed with herbs. "What's in this?" You asked looking at the swirling bits in it. "It's called wolfsbane, it'll make you weaker and I can defend myself if you find me." Stefan told you. You opened the cap and took a sip. Immediately you began coughing and gagging, your body rejected the fluid as it burned your throat. "Well now I know what vervain does to you." You laughed before drinking more. Stefan chuckled while Klaus was getting out of the car. "Each time you turn will get faster. Just try to accept it while it's happening, it's going to go faster if you do." Klaus explained, as soon as he finished your leg broke out from under you. It was starting, you could feel your spine snap in 3 different ways, you screamed and tried to let your bones reshape. You heard the car drive away. You were alone again while turning. Suddenly Klaus came into your line of sight he was turning too. His seemingly much less painful than yours. Suddenly your jaw snaped and started to change. You finally felt your bones finish changing, you looked around and found that wolf again from your first shift. Klaus. This whole time the other wolf was Klaus, you walked towards him when he suddenly ran off. You started to chase after him. The forest flashing past you as time went by. Suddenly you woke up to the sun rising and feeling your body moving. You realized you were being carried, you looked and saw Klaus again. The rising sun on his skin, you could feel his bare chest against your side. You suddenly became very aware of your own lack of clothes. You screamed and rolled out of his arms and ran behind a tree. You heard him starting to laugh. "Love, I've been carrying you for fifteen minutes already. I was only carrying you back to the car so you could get dressed." He said, you covered your eyes and leaned only far enough around the tree so he could see your face. "Go get dressed and have Stefan bring my clothes. I can't believe you've seen me naked!" You almost screeched in embarrassment. You heard him laugh but kept walking. A few moments later you heard footsteps and opened your eyes to thankfully see Stefan. He handed you a stack of clothes, you grabbed them and thanked him. "So Klaus saw you naked?" He asked as you where putting on your clothes, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks you shouted back "SHUT UP!"

You were finally back in the car on your way to Tennessee. You pull into a street with a farm house with a white picket fence on a small hill. "Stefan you wait by the car until I get inside then you can cover the front door if they run. Y/N, you are going to be my girlfriend and our car ran out of gas." Klaus explained getting out. You felt your cheeks warm up at him making you his girlfriend, however you ignored the feeling. "Wait, why the hell am I involved?" You asked confused, you normally just sat in the car waiting. "You said you weren't having any fun just sitting and waiting. So now you can help." Klaus said, you and Stefan both climbed out of the car. "She doesn't need to be involved Klaus, what if she gets hurt or gets in the way." Stefan said coldly. Ouch, hurtful. "I'll worry about her you just do what you need to. Let's go little Salvatore." Klaus said while walking towards the house. You could hear a woman's voice, "Rudy! Rudy come on!" Klaus suddenly grabbed your hand and vamp sped behind the woman. She turned around and gasped. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Klaus lied in an American accent, it wasn't awful but it was funny and took everything in you to not crack a smile or laugh. "Can I help you?" She asked, "Uh, yeah, me and my girlfriend have been walking for quite a while, see our car ran out of gas a few miles back. And we were wondering if we could use your phone." He smiled feigning innocence. "Don't you two have cell phones." She asked obviously not really believing him. "Well, you see, my boyfriend here decided to start an impromptu road trip around the country with me but didn't pack my phone and forgot his charger. He's a bit forgetful. Anyways, now of course his phone is dead and mine is home. I'm really sorry about the intrusion." You tried to convince her, you heard Klaus lightly growl at you calling him forgetful but held up a dead cell phone anyways. The woman's eyes softened a little, "Ok." She sighed. Klaus stepped forward, "So you'll invite us in?" He asked hopeful. She began to shake her head, "No, I'll get the phone and bring it out here." She said, smart girl, but wrong answer. "Thought you country folk were supposed to be more trusting." Klaus said frowning, returning to his normal accent. "I'm from Florida." She said smirking, you rolled your eyes. She just doesn't realize the situation she's in. "Well that explains it." Klaus said, he grabbed her arm and forced it behind her back and got close to her ear and let his fangs drop. Hot. You mentally shook your head at the thought and tried to forget it even happened. "Now if I were you I'd invite me in." He told her threateningly, she started to softly cry but nodded. "You can come in." She whispered, he began walking her to the door. You turned to walk back to the car. "Where are you going love, the fun has just started." Klaus yelled at you. You turned back and walked to the house knowing he wouldn't let you go back and sit. You opened the door for Klaus and the woman, "I bet you a hundred bucks that dog ran off to a house with air conditioning." Another woman from inside joked. This woman turned to see Klaus and her friend. "Please don't be alarmed, I'm told Ray Sutton lives here." Klaus said calmly as if he's not about to kill them both. "He's almost never here." The second woman said starting to tremble. "Ah, but I'm sure he makes it home say about once a month. Where is he now?" Klaus taunted with a smirk. The woman started to run, bad idea. You and Klaus walked after her, she ripped the door open to see Stefan and screamed. "I love it when they run." Klaus said amused. You rolled your eyes and just then the one who ran began to tell the truth, "He's in Tulley, it's near the border. A bar called Southern Comfort off highway 41." She pleaded. "Thank you my love." Klaus said and then turned to the woman in his arm, stroking her hair, "Now, may my friend come in?" You rolled your eyes at hia theatrics. The woman sobbing nodded her head, "Yes."

Klaus looked at Stefan, "Kill this one quickly," he said shoving the one in his arms towards Stefan, "make the other suffer." Klaus finished and grabbed your arm and pulled you out the door. "Klaus you could've compelled them to forget, he doesn't have to kill them!" You responded upset as you heard the women screaming. One faded fast but the other continued and you could hear thus. "Oh of course I do love. One of them could be on vervain and call Ray up telling him to run." He told you with a smirk. Walking back to the car silently the rest of the way. Stefan soon came back. Blood still on his face you couldn't look at him or Klaus so you looked out the window of the car and tried to sleep again.

~~~~2080 words~~~~

#niklaus #niklaus imagine #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus x reader #salvatore!reader x niklaus #klaus imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus x reader #klaus x salvatore!reader #klaus #klaus mikealson x reader #little salvatore

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honeyymistt · 4 years ago

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Hello, love! I’m always looking for new music, so may I ask what some of your favorite songs/ albums/ artists are? Anything you are comfortable sharing. You are a wonderful person and I would be honored if you would share some of your music taste. Love and light to you! ❤️❤️❤️

omg what a fun question! here are some of my fav artists and their songs!!

BTS - pied piper, sea, still with you, we are bulletproof the eternal, first love

Kaleo - save yourself, all the pretty girls, hot blood

Sza - drew barrymore, prom

LEON - think about you, falling, and it breaks my heart, die for you, you and I

Kiana Lede; pls ignore the lack of the accent on her last name, i can’t do them on my laptop :( - ex, wicked games, take it all

5 seconds of summer - permanent vacation, jet black heart, talk fast, vapor

Before you exit - clouds, buzz, solar eclipse

DEAN - 21, D (half moon), i’m not sorry, dayfly, i love it

Keshi - skeletons, like i need u, xoxosos

i also really love this one song called if u could see me cryin in my room by arash buana and raissa anggiani!! i listen to it literally every day i love it

hopefully you like some of the songs!!! love and light to you as well <3

#chat with honeyymistt #music recommendations #i rly hope u like some of the songs #BTS #ARMY #sza #kaleo #dean #keshi #kiana lede #LÉON #bang tan #bangtan

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thetourguidebarbie · 5 years ago

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You know that angsty KC thing you wrote some time ago? The one you said there was a possibility for more? The one that ended with Caroline’s neck snapped by witches? And klaus was like a galaxy away or whatever? It was great and I am still asking myself what will happen next and I remembered that you said that there could be a ‘next’. So pls if you can, and have some time could you maybe write a part 2? And an happy ending Cause God knows I can’t take more angst...

Sequel to this drabble. NSFW. Tagging @itsnotacrimetoloveyou @goldcaught @sunshineandfangs @storm-pirate and @honestgrins who I believe all asked for the sequel. Mention of what Damon did to Caroline but nothing graphic. Hope you enjoy!!

-------------------

Caroline stirred slowly, groaning as she tested whether she could move all her limbs and extremities. She didn’t feel any restraints or the lingering ache of vervain. Her sweater felt heavy, the temperature hot and humid despite the lack of sounds that indicated being outdoors. She opened her eyes slowly, noting the cell around her. Grey stone walls, no windows, a single ceiling light, heavy metal door, no furniture, and complete silence.

Definitely not the best prison she’d been in, but it hopefully wouldn’t be the worst either.

She’d been kidnapped more than a few times over the decades since she’d left Mystic Falls, and she’d learned there were two kinds of Klaus Enemies. Some of them wanted to bargain with Klaus or make some sort of agreement, which meant that they wouldn’t kill her, at least until they got what they wanted, and they all died before that happened. The more dangerous ones were the revenge-seekers. They were generally content to torture her on video or make her talk to Klaus on the phone to prove that she was still alive, playing a sick sort of cat and mouse game until he managed to catch up with them. They usually had a plan to kill her in the end, and the closer Klaus got to finding her, the less certain it was that she’d come out alive unless he pulled off a flawless rescue.

His plans had gone awry only once and he’d managed to resurrect her in a relatively timely manner, but both of them preferred to avoid that particular outcome.

She’d bet any number of valuable things that her kidnappers were soldiers in the human army that had tried to lure Klaus into a fake negotiation. Hopefully they were just trying to leverage her to get a better deal from him, a rookie mistake but she could respect the nerve, rather than outright torturing her.

She looked up at the door when it opened slowly, the man in the doorway lingering just shy of coming into the room. Likely a magic barrier then. They both remained silent, just staring at each other. The seconds stretched to what felt like minutes, though there wasn’t really any way to tell, and though she was getting impatient, she knew better than to break the silence. That showed weakness.

“Caroline Forbes?” he asked finally, his voice lower than she’d expected.

“Yep.”

“Where’s the doppelganger?”

Caroline’s eyebrows flew up to her hairline. That was a question she hadn’t heard for awhile. She hadn’t seen Elena in centuries, even before she’d gone to rescue Klaus. “I have no idea,” she said truthfully.

“Weren’t you friends?”

“We lost touch,” Caroline said blandly, not wanting to bore her captor with the whole ‘supposed best friend dated my rapist’ story. “Is that all? Because if it was you can totally let me go now and we’ll call it even.”

“It’s all right. I’m patient. I’ll wait until you’re ready to reconsider.”

She watched in complete disbelief as he slammed the door in her face.

“You have got to be kidding me. I honestly don’t know!” she shouted at the shut door, groaning when it didn’t open and backing up to lean against the stone wall. “Guess history does always repeat itself,” she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to say positive.

She had no doubt Klaus would comb through all three solar systems to find her if he had to, would hire any and every witch he could find to track her down. The question was whether they’d bothered to send him a ransom note if it wasn’t about him. If he had no idea where they’d taken her and they hadn’t left any clues, that could definitely be a problem.

Whatever. She’d do her best to escape before anything bad happened. If they were after Elena and hadn’t bothered to do any research on her other than know about their childhood friendship, it was likely they’d vastly underestimated her. Hopefully she could use that to her advantage.

Maybe she’d let Klaus lick the blood of her captors from her body if he arrived in time.

------------------

Klaus frowned as Caroline’s phone went to voicemail for the third time after ringing out. She’d seemed less than pleased on the phone, but it wasn’t like her to ignore his calls. He hung up, barking for his hybrid to drive faster and flipping the phone around in his hand, staring out at the rain and trying not to panic.

Leaving Caroline for longer than a day was less than ideal. She did go on the occasional multi-week getaway with friends, but he always made her promise to stay with at least one other person and text him once a day just to let him know she was alive. They’d learned to compromise over the years, especially once Caroline made absolutely clear that if he wanted her to stay he had to stop being ‘red flag central’ about monitoring her whereabouts, but it was difficult for him to shake that something wasn’t quite right in this particular case.

His suspicion turned to full-blown worry once his hybrid guards’ phones each went to voicemail as well.

“Let me out and meet me there,” Klaus ordered, out of the door as soon as the hybrid pulled over and speeding to the house as fast as he could. He swore when he found the door unlocked, punched a hole in the wall when he couldn’t detect Caroline’s scent on the property beyond the faint lingering trace in their bedroom, and felt his rage grow when he saw his hybrid with his throat slit on the ground, his heart on the floor beside it. He inhaled and frowned when he found the blood scentless, his alarm bells ringing even more fervently when he realized it was likely spelled to keep Caroline from being tipped off.

Witches.

He pulled out his phone, easily finding the number and holding it out to display the hologram of Bonnie’s face when she answered.

“Klaus,” she greeted, her tone cool. Though he and the Bennett witch had grown to be on better terms than they had previously, he was under no delusion that it wasn’t solely due to Caroline. Witches tended to hold grudges, and Bonnie was no exception.

“Caroline’s missing.”

He appreciated the clear effort it took for Bonnie to restrain herself from asking him whether Caroline had finally come to her senses and left, instead running a hand through her hair and giving him a distrustful glance. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Text me the details of how you managed to let her get kidnapped so that I don’t have to hate you to your face.”

She hung up, leaving Klaus to wish, not for the first time, that Caroline wasn’t fond enough of the Bennett witch to object to just a spot of torture.

------------------

“Out of curiosity, why do you need Elena?” Caroline rasped, her throat burning from lack of blood.

The minion tying her to the coffin paused, clearly considering whether to answer her question. She hadn’t been able to detect a heartbeat and he didn’t smell like dinner, so she suspected he was a species of humanoid alien that didn’t have consumable blood, though the light was too low to see which one.

“Just a spell,” he said casually, his accent thick. He sounded like he might be from somewhere in Solar 4, which was a bad sign. She and Klaus were most definitely not welcome in that sector. Hopefully he wasn’t an avid political junkie and wouldn’t know who she was. He tugged the chain to test the strength of it and she hissed at the pain from the scratch of it against her skin.

“Why?”

“The spell is a bodyswap. He found a few friendly vampires willing to make a bargain. In exchange for the doppelganger being returned to their care, they would give us her blood. As I’m sure you’re aware, traveller blood is needed to cast the spell.”

“What vampire made the deal?” she asked slowly, already pretty sure of the answer, and when the captor confirmed her suspicion she couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

Damon Salvatore would be a perpetual thorn in her side. She’d stopped Klaus from killing Stefan out of a misplaced sense of nostalgia, but if he was going to keep resurrecting his brother indefinitely then they both needed to go, toxic but fondly remembered high school friendships be damned.

At least this meant Elena had hopefully finally come to her senses and ditched both of them. Good for her.

“Well, unfortunately for you and Damon, Elena and I lost touch like, a century ago, so I can’t help you find her. No blood, no spell. You might as well just let me go.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” a familiar voice said from across the room. Her body felt heavy, her limbs too leadened to move even without the chains securing them to the coffin, but she managed to turn her head enough to catch sight of the total asshole standing in the doorway.

“You,” she hissed, attempting to struggle against her bonds as the human approached, the sound of his heartbeat giving her a surge of energy, every instinct she had screaming at her to pounce. He’d been a general in the last uprising, though not a very good one, and his army had been dealt with quickly and efficiently. She’d disagreed at the time with Klaus’s methods, knowing that if they used the guy’s girlfriend as an example it would just escalate everything and make it worse, but Klaus had worn her down. He’d been doing it for centuries, he reminded her. He knew how to take care of a few enemies.

“It’s just one girl,” Klaus had said at the time as they rode the ship back to their home base, his arms tight around her as he nuzzled her neck, nipping her ear with a fang. “He’ll get over it.”

She felt so stupid. She’d known that the general wouldn’t let go of his grudges as easily as Klaus expected, and she should have insisted that they find another way. He was clearly not over it, and now she was clearly going to pay the price.

“When I escape, and I will, I will drain all of you dry and I’ll make it hurt,” Caroline spat.

The general laughed. “You won’t have the chance. We’re going to leave you here to dessicate nice and slow while we track down the doppelganger, or find a witch who can use expression instead as a last resort. Whatever witch we use will swap us, and you’ll get thrown in that pretty dungeon over there to waste away in a human body while I track down Klaus, who will be so pleased with your return that he won’t even notice the white oak stake until it’s through his heart.”

She felt every bit of her insides turn to ice, her breath catching in her throat. “The white oak stakes are gone. The trees were destroyed with Earth.”

“I got the last one. Also part of the bargain with the Salvatores.”

Ugh. She should have known.

“Once I’ve taken care of him I’ll have a ready-made army who’s already loyal to you.“

“He won’t believe you,” she said, her thirst making it harder to speak. “He knows me.” Sure, she’d been a little grumpy lately because of the distance, but Klaus knew her idiosyncrasies better than anyone.

“You’d be surprised at how far people are willing to go to suspend their disbelief if it gets them what they want, especially if they’re distracted by other activities.”

Caroline felt her heart race, the reality that not only could this work, but she and Klaus could be in very deep trouble, crashing into her like a punch to the gut. Her eyes burned with tears. They’d killed the bodyguards Klaus had left with her and she had no idea how long it would take for him to get back. He had no way of knowing what happened.

She was alone.

------------------

“I can’t believe you lost her,” Bonnie said grumpily, her fingers tapping on the table as she looked out the window of the ship, and he could tell she was deliberately avoiding his gaze. There was no scenery to take in, after all. The endless inky blackness around them perfectly reflected Klaus’s foul mood.

“I didn’t lose her,” he ground out.

“I mean, she wasn’t exactly where you left her,” Bonnie pointed out, shooting him a glare before staring intently at the map in her lap she was using to channel the tracking spell. He could see that the pages had begun to glow a bit brighter with magic, indicating that they were getting closer.

He bit back a retort to Bonnie’s rather rude implication that this was somehow his fault, knowing that Caroline wouldn’t appreciate it if the first thing she learned post-torture was that he and Bonnie had gotten into a spat. “How long?”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll go give the pilot the coordinates.”

He ran a hand through his hair as Bonnie got out of her seat to go talk to the hybrid manning the ship, every inch of him on edge. He’d been alive for over 1,500 years, long enough that months felt like mere moments in the grand scheme of things. Seasons passed in the blink of an eye, the concept of time a measurement that now seemed insignificant at best. He had eternity to do whatever he pleased, and the pastime of watching the mortals around him struggle to live their lives to the fullest while they still could had lost any appeal long ago.

However, whenever Caroline was in danger, time seemed to return to dragging on the way it had when he was young. Every moment was precious. The knowledge that the difference between Caroline being alive and being ripped away from him could be a single second was a terrifying reminder that though the mortals struggled to survive, the luxury of endless opportunity out of reach for them, at least if they made a fatal mistake it all ended soon enough.

If he lost Caroline because of his certainty that he knew best how to protect her, because of his arrogance and unwillingness to compromise, he would have an unending eternity to never forgive himself.

“Take off your broody face,” Bonnie said, her voice cutting through his dark mood.

“I’m not brooding.”

“Aren’t you though?” Bonnie asked dryly, sitting down next to him. Her expression softened when she saw his face, and Klaus turned away, unwilling to let her see his weakness. His fear. “She’ll be fine,” Bonnie said reassuringly, her voice holding a confidence Klaus didn’t at all share.

“We don’t know that.”

“If she was dead the map wouldn’t be able to track her down,” Bonnie said patiently. “And even if she was, we’ve pulled her back from the other side before. It was a huge pain in the ass and you totally made me want to kill you once or twice, but we managed.”

“Right,” Klaus said noncommittally, flicking a piece of dried blood out from under his nail.

“Do you have to do that in front of me?” Bonnie complained. “It’s so gross.”

“The longer you let blood dry there the harder it is to remove.”

“Then wash your hands,” Bonnie said exasperatedly, huffing and turning back to her map. “Men. Ugh.”

------------------

Everything hurt.

The wood of the open coffin was hard against her back, her heightened nerves making the scratches in the wood feel like sandpaper against her oversensitive skin. Her lungs hurt when she tried to breathe, and she could feel her muscles growing weaker by the second even as she tried to struggle uselessly against the cold hard metal that bound her. She could hear voices in the hallway bartering over witchy services and the combination of that and hunger was making her head pound.

It wasn’t long before they seemed to reach an agreement, and she eyed the witch who came in with disdain, struggling to keep her eyes open as she felt the last dregs of energy leave her.

She gathered every piece of false bravado she could, taking a shaky breath. “It won’t work. Klaus will find out. Your deaths will be slow and painful. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”

Caroline had barely gasped out, “Klaus?” before she felt the rush of him go by her and the witch was crumpled on the stone floor with her neck snapped.

“What did they do to you? Were there wolves?” he asked sharply, his eyes roving her body to check for a bite even as he bent to free her. Caroline took a shaky breath, flinching in pain as the chains scraped against her skin when Klaus ripped them.

“No. Just hungry,” Caroline wheezed, coughing around the words, her throat too dry to explain more.

He pulled her up to cradle her against his chest, sitting on the coffin she’d been chained to and steadying her in his lap before pressing his wrist to her lips. “Drink, sweetheart.”

Her fangs were through his skin before he’d even finished. She was unable to suppress a moan as the blood hit her tongue, her pulse pounding in her ears as the rush of magic surged through her veins, the gashes on her arms knitting closed, her skin regaining some of its color. His eyes never left her face as he watched her feed, his fingers carding through her hair.

“You could have at least whooshed me with you,” Bonnie complained from the doorway, her breathing harsh as if she’d been running. “Oh my god.”

“She’ll be alright,” Klaus assured her quickly. “Everyone else in the building, however...”

“Revenge, we know,” Bonnie said impatiently, bending down to inspect Caroline herself. “No magic stuff?”

“They didn’t get to it,” Caroline said, curling into Klaus as much as possible, inhaling his scent and internally repeating to herself that he was fine. They were fine. Nothing bad had happened.

But if he hadn’t come in time...

“Let’s go home,” Klaus said softly, clearly sensing that she was too upset to explain. “You can tell us what happened on the ship, all right?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He held her for a few moments even after she’d recovered her strength, his nose buried in her hair, and she curled against him, listening for the reassuring thump of his undead heartbeat. She could hear Bonnie moving in the background, objects rustling as though she was trying to figure out what the plan had been.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Klaus whispered, his voice so low that Caroline doubted Bonnie had heard. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Technically I did have bodyguards,” Caroline pointed out with a strained smile, shifting against him to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “And I love you too.”

“They’re lucky they were killed by the enemy. Their deaths by my hand for losing you would have been much more painful.”

“If it’s really bothering you we can resurrect them and you can kill them again,” Caroline teased, rolling her eyes when Klaus looked more thoughtful than amused. “I was just joking.”

“Were they going to do a body swap spell?” Bonnie interrupted, her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Caroline said tiredly, tangling her fingers with Klaus’s when he stiffened. “They were going to let me die of starvation in a human body while they used mine to kill Klaus and then take over the army we built.”

She tried her best to keep her tone flat, to not let herself listen to what had come out of her own mouth and risk the fear of what could have been making her break down, but she felt Klaus stiffen against her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that I can’t be killed?”

“They had the last white oak stake,” Caroline said, watching Klaus’s face darken.

“Did they, now?”

“He showed me.”

“It’s probably a fake,” Klaus said, his overconfidence kind of making her want to scream.

“I mean it looked pretty real when he showed me,” Caroline said with forced patience, shifting in Klaus’s arms. “And even if it was a regular stake, you’d still trust not-me enough that he could have stabbed you with it, and it would still kill you for long enough for them to...lock you up, or something.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, love,” he promised.

She swallowed her skepticism, not wanting to have a deep conversation about their recent lack of contact in front of her already anti-Klaus best friend and some fresh corpses. “Can we go?”

“I want to take a look around in case they have anything useful,” Bonnie said. “I’ll keep an eye out for the stake too. Can I meet you back on the ship in an hour or so?”

“Of course. I’ll send a hybrid to escort you,” Klaus said, standing up with Caroline still in his arms.

“I can walk, you kn--” Caroline began, her protests interrupted by Klaus speeding them back to the ship in a blink of an eye, carrying her into their usual suite and setting her down on the bed.

“How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

“Achy,” she admitted, shifting slightly against the mattress. “But just some more blood, maybe?”

“I’ll get you a glass,” he said, reaching to squeeze her hand before leaving the room, returning moments later with a glass, which he handed her. Her mouth watered at the scent, but she forced herself to sip slowly, needing something to do with her hands.

“I’ll kill them all,” he promised. “They’ll never hurt you again.”

“I know,” she said, trying not to sound too irritated despite being somehow annoyed that that was the first thing he wanted to say. “I’m fine, though.”

“And I’m glad of that,” he said slowly, clearly sensing that something was off beyond her physical injuries and the mental toll it took to be tortured. “What’s troubling you, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, setting her mug down on the bedside table before patting the spot next to her. He eyed her warily before kicking off his boots and sitting beside her, their thighs pressed together, his hand resting on her knee. “Caroline?”

“What if you hadn’t gotten there in time?” Caroline asked softly, her voice hitching. Klaus looked vaguely alarmed by the question, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I did, sweetheart. You’re safe now.”

“But what if you hadn’t?”

“Then I’d have figured it out, and I’d have come for you.”

He sounded so confident, so sure, but somehow that only made her more upset, and she felt her eyes heat as tears built. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “I like to think after the last few hundred years I know you rather well.”

She let out a slightly watery laugh, sniffling when the tears started falling. It was probably the thousandth time she’d cried in front of Klaus, and he still made the same alarmed expression as though he was frantically trying to figure out how to make her stop. “Caroline, I...what...”

“Are you sure?” she asked again, sniffling. “Because we haven’t seen each other for longer than a few hours in like, weeks. Months, maybe?”

“But we’ve been together for over two hundred years,” he pointed out, looking more confused by the moment.

“Yeah, so you trust me, right?” Caroline pressed, wiping her eyes. “Like, if you’d come home and fake me had just jumped you, you would have gone along with it, and then he would have stabbed you with the white oak stake, and--”

“I’d know,” he said, the finality in his tone annoying her even more. “I promise. I’d be safe and I’d find you. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“But--”

“What’s actually bothering you, love?” he pressed, studying her face.

She huffed, wiping at her cheeks and trying to blink the tears away. “I just...I don’t know if you would.”

“What?” he asked, sounding more offended than she’d ever heard him. It would have made her laugh if she wasn’t so upset. “Of course I--That’s...Caroline. You can’t possibly think that I don’t care enough to notice when you’re not yourself?”

“No, like, I know you care about me,” Caroline said reassuringly, grabbing his hand. “I just feel like we don’t really get to spend time together anymore.”

“We’ll have eternity together, sweetheart. Especially once the war is over.”

“Yeah, a war that’s been going on for decades. Full offense, but I’d like to spend my eternity with you, not waiting for you,” Caroline burst out. “Do you know how it makes me feel for you to just leave me behind to twiddle my thumbs and do nothing? When you leave me out of all of your semi-evil plots and treat me like I have no value other than being your...your girlfriend? Or whatever? I don’t want to be an afterthought or taken for granted, and I feel like you’re dangerously close to that.”

She felt a bit guilty when she watched his expression close off, his lips pressing together into a thin line as he processed, clearly weighing his words, and he swallowed before he spoke, the only sign that he wasn’t as collected as he looked. “How long have you felt that way?”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I don’t know. A while.”

“I wish you’d said something,” he said, wincing at the look on her face. “Not that I shouldn’t have been paying more attention, of course.”

“I mean, you haven’t really been around to notice,” she bit out, regretting her words when he recoiled slightly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“No, you’re right,” he interrupted firmly. “I haven’t, and I apologize.”

She let out a sharp breath. “No, that wasn’t nice of me. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been busy with everything.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful, and she took the opportunity to lean against him, tucking herself against his side. “What can I do to acquit myself?” he asked, and she laughed softly.

“No more crazy commute meetings or solo murder sprees,” she said, a slow grin spreading across her face at the way his expression darkened, likely because he thought she was attempting to get him to give up the war entirely. She turned slightly to sling a leg over his lap, cupping his cheeks, the stubble familiar and rough beneath her palms. “Not unless I get to rip out a few hearts with you. Understood?”

He smiled slightly, his hands landing on her hips. “Understood.”

She bent to kiss him softly, but he pulled back what felt like much too soon, making her frown. “What?”

“I never want you to think even for a moment that you are anything less than my first priority or for you to feel that I’m taking you for granted. Nor do I wish to give you the impression that I don’t value your counsel, or that I would prefer you to be left waiting rather than always at my side. Nothing has come more easily to me than loving you, Caroline. I need to trust that you’ll tell me if you’re feeling neglected so that I may remind you of that.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat at the clear affection in his eyes, the way his voice curled around her name in a way that made warmth bloom in her chest even after all their years together. She’d missed the way her heart would skip a beat when he looked at her, everything seeming to fade away other than the intoxicating rush of how he made her feel.

“I can do that,” she promised, slightly breathlessly, and he gave her the dimpled grin that was uniquely hers, the one that only emerged when they were alone and wrapped up in their own little world.

“Good,” he said, pecking her on the lips and shifting underneath her to get comfortable, settling against the headboard, his palm sliding underneath her top to rest on the base of her spine. “I should also note, again, that I object to the term ‘girlfriend’. It’s juvenile.”

Caroline huffed. They’d had that argument what felt like over a hundred times, but neither could come up with a better title. ‘Partner’ reminded Caroline of cowboys (which had made Klaus snort brandy up his nose when she’d complained about it, and she’d only stopped the ensuing explanation of historically accurate cowboys by shoving her tongue down his throat). ‘Lover’ was too sappy, even if Taylor Swift had sort of brought it back for a hot second. They weren’t married. ‘Significant other’ was too long and formal. They’d given up about a decade into their relationship. Caroline had settled for ‘girlfriend/boyfriend’ and Klaus simply expected everyone to know that she was his and be respectful of that, lest their heads be lopped off.

Multiple heads had been lopped off.

It had been a thing.

She hummed noncommittally, deciding not to get drawn into a discussion about it, instead wriggling out of his grip and stripping off her shirt. “I need a shower. I’m covered in blood and dirt.”

“Of course, love. Do you want company?”

She bit her lip, considering. She still felt gross, the remains of the dirt on the coffin and the blood of her captors still sticking to her skin. Almost more unsettling was the knowledge of how close she’d come to having someone else inhabit her body, what they’d planned to do with it. Even though they hadn’t succeeded, the idea of it still made her feel ill, taking up what she felt was too much space in her mind but refusing to budge. She swallowed.

“I’ll be here when you’re done, sweetheart. Just call if you need me,” Klaus said, clearly reading her answer on her face. Klaus was far from stupid, had likely put together where her mind had gone. They’d body-swapped before as a sex thing, but the idea of someone she didn’t know wearing her as a costume without her permission, of being inside of her, was such a violation. It was something she’d had multiple conversations about with Klaus when he’d proposed a body swap for subterfuge as a war strategy. She’s put her foot down. Hard. The idea of it still made her queasy, and he knew it.

She gave him a weak smile, slipping into the bathroom and turning on the spray. The water turned a deep rusty color as it dripped down from her body, the heat flushing her skin. It felt good to have everything washed away, the smears of blood over what had been gashes on her arms and legs rinsing off to show the healed flesh underneath. She worked the bubbles down her body almost mechanically, the indulgently expensive hair products she favored slick under her fingers as she worked them into her blonde curls to make them soft and smooth again.

She could hear Klaus shifting in bed, his fingers tapping against what was probably his tablet, waiting for her to emerge.

She knew that just the talk they had wouldn’t be enough in the long term. Letting herself grow so resentful without bringing it up had been a mistake, one she knew better than to make after being in a relationship with him for this long. It brought up all her old insecurities about clinginess and being too needy, ones she thought she’d outgrown centuries ago. Klaus had never made her feel like she was being too much, but that didn’t squash her deepest fears that one day he might.

But not today, she told herself firmly as she shut off the water, grabbing a fluffy towel and humming to herself as she dried her hair, trying to recenter herself.

“Feeling better, love?” he asked when she came out, his tone so determinedly casual that he had to have been making an effort not to sound too concerned.

“Yeah,” she said, pulling on some pajama bottoms and an old henley from the closet. “Move over.”

He obliged, lifting his arm so that she could lean against him, pushing a mug of blood into her hands. “Do you want to talk?” Klaus asked after a few seconds of her sipping from the mug in silence.

“I’m mostly all talked out,” she said, closing her eyes, cracking one open for a half-hearted glare when he chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

“I do,” he agreed, his thumb stroking the dimple in her elbow.

They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, Bonnie’s voice floating through. “Caroline?”

“Coming!” Caroline yelled for the benefit of Bonnie’s lack of supernatural hearing, swinging her legs out of bed and whooshing to let her in.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bonnie said, pulling her into a tight hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good,” Bonnie said, turning to look at Klaus, who was trying to leave them discreetly to give them a few moments of privacy (or because he anticipated squealing once they started catching up). “Don’t you want to know what I found out?”

“I suppose.”

“The white oak stake is definitely fake,” Bonnie said, squeezing Caroline hand as she slumped slightly, a good half of her stress evaporating all at once. “Damon probably just figured the guy would do his stalking for him and he and Elena would be far away by the time he found out the stake didn’t kill you.”

“Not too far for me to kill, however,” Klaus muttered. “And the ripper, I suppose. They’ve both become equally as bothersome. Pity. He used to be such—.”

“Fun. Yeah, we know, you used to have twinsies murder sprees in the twenties,” Bonnie interrupted impatiently. “We have heard every story more times than how many years we’ve been alive.”

Caroline snorted at the revolted look on Klaus’s face at the word “twinsies” and kind of wished she had a camera to capture it.

“Anything else, Bon?”

“Just some spellbooks and reagents. I’ll take them home to study.”

“Okay.”

“You should get some sleep, Care. I’m exhausted and I didn’t even get tortured.”

“I agree,” Klaus said, reaching to slip his arm around her waist. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

------------------

“Good morning,” Caroline muttered, tipping her head to the side to allow Klaus to nip her ear. “That feels nice.”

He laughed quietly, letting his blunt teeth drag along her earlobe and sucking on it lightly before moving to press a soft kiss to her lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said, her word dragging into a yawn. “Definitely a nicer wake-up call than yesterday.”

Though Klaus had stuck to his promise to wake her when they were dropping Bonnie off, she barely remembered what had happened, the memory blurry and consisting only of an agreement to call her best friend that afternoon when she’d recovered. She was pretty sure Klaus had carried her to bed when they had arrived to their house, since she didn’t remember their arrival.

“I should hope so.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after second sunrise,” he said, grinning at Caroline’s returning groan. “But we have a significant time difference, so you’ve been asleep quite awhile.”

“Where are we?”

“Sector eight. Our planet.”

She hummed, slinging a leg over his waist to pull herself on top of him and pressing her cheek to his bare chest. Their private planet meant top notch security and zero responsibilities. Perfect for more naps.

He pressed his palm lightly against the base of her spine, his other hand fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Still tired, love?”

“No. You’re just comfy.”

“Not hungry?”

“Not enough to let you move.”

“You should eat,” he said, beginning to move her off of him, presumably to get her some blood, but she shoved him back down, pressing soft kisses down the tattoo inked across his shoulder.

“Fine. Breakfast in bed?” she whispered between brushes of her lips, letting a fang scrape against the bird closest to his neck and flicking her tongue against the cut. She felt Klaus tense under her fingers, heard his swallow when she let out a satisfied hum at the taste of him.

“Are you offering?”

“Demanding,” she shot back, pushing herself up on her palms to look him in the eye. “It’s the least you can do.”

“I suppose,” he drawled, tilting his head to the side, his hand already drifting down to press against her thigh, gently nudging her legs apart. “Since you asked so nicely.”

“Jerk,” she muttered, more affectionately than insulting, and he groaned as she bent and sank her fangs into his neck, his nails curling to bite into her skin, his hips jerking up to grind shamelessly against her.

He’d never held back with her, never tried to restrain himself from reacting to her touches, never hesitated to show her exactly how much he wanted her. Even when they were just watching each other or he was teasing her with infuriatingly gentle brushes of his fingers against her skin or the light flick of his tongue just shy of where she needed it, she never felt the least bit of doubt of how much he loved her, loved being with her.

It was one of the many things she loved about him.

That, and how delicious his blood was on her tongue.

She could hear his harsh breathing, the way he whispered her name when she was on the edge of taking too much. She pulled back slowly, still dazed and high on the rush of it. He caught her lips with his, sucking lightly on her lower lip before tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging her head back to expose her neck. She shivered when he ran his tongue over her pulse and pressed a soft kiss to it, running his nose along the line of her throat to her ear, inhaling her scent. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

Her entire body was pulsing with need, her nipples sensitive, her pussy aching. “I want you. Now.”

“Again, so demanding,” he murmured, nipping her earlobe.

“Oh, well, I guess if you don’t want to,” she teased, laughing when he flipped them over, already kissing his way down her body.

“You should know better than to think that there could be anything else I’d prefer to be doing,” he said softly, looking up to fully meet her eyes.

The moment felt heavier suddenly, his point clear. “I know,” she breathed.

He gave her a dimpled smile, one that was soft and rare and reserved for their most private moments. She felt all of the air leave her lungs, and she knew he could hear how his effect on her made her pulse race, the rush of it so quick it could have been a human’s for just a moment.

“And I do recall I promised to remind you.”

“You did.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh, his blunt teeth dragging along the skin for just a moment after, making her shiver, her eyes closing. “Look at me, Caroline.”

She fought to keep her eyes open, but as soon as she met his, she couldn't look away. He held her gaze as he began to lazily drag his fingertip back and forth across the back of her knee, smirking when she shivered. "What do you want me to do, love?"

Klaus had always had the ability to coax out confessions of things she craved. When she'd finally allowed herself to give into him, she'd been surprised by his attentiveness, his determination to convince her to tell him all of her filthiest desires. She'd never exactly been shy, but he'd managed to get her used to making demands, to be unashamed to ask for things she wanted. His light touch was a deliberate tease, designed to make her admit what she wanted from him.

"Make me come."

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh, just shy of where she wanted his tongue. "I intend to. More than a few times, in fact."

"That's ambitious for someone who's been doing a lot more talking than touching."

"I'll get to it, sweetheart," he promised, sliding his hands underneath her thighs to push them apart and back, nipping at the exposed skin. "And if I recall correctly you do like it when I talk."

"You do recall correctly and you know that," she said impatiently. "But right now I want your tongue on me."

"Good," he murmured, bending to let a fang drag across her inner thigh frustratingly close to her entrance, the burn of the venom only making the sensation of his tongue sweeping along the cut even sweeter. "Watch."

She inhaled sharply at the first flick of his tongue against her clit, the soft hum of satisfaction when she rolled her hips instinctively to draw him closer. She kept her eyes locked on his as he swiped his tongue across her entrance just the way she liked it, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips to pull her closer, groaning at the taste of her arousal on his tongue. The barest hint of shame she used to feel for melting against his touch had long been overcome, and it was almost amusing to remember how hard she fought to pretend that he wasn't exactly what she wanted, that his tongue against her clit would result in anything other than her writhing against him demanding more.

He knew how to draw her out, to tease her for hours as she begged for release, but he knew better than to make her wait this time. Her first orgasm was quick and almost harsh, her ragged breathing muffled only by the rip of the sheets as she dug her nails into the mattress. He barely waited for her to come down from her high to build her up again, watching with dark, wanting eyes as he brought her to the edge twice more before she sank bonelessly against the mattress, watching him with glazed eyes. "Good?" he asked, his expression as smug as ever.

Her undead heart was racing in her chest, her entire body still thrumming with need. "More. Your cock this time."

"Bossy."

She raised an eyebrow, reaching to wrap her hand around his cock, grinning at his low groan when she began to stroke him lazily. "You want bossy?"

"I want you," he shot back, the thickness of his voice and the flash of gold in his eyes taking a response that could have been cheesy and turning into anything but. His cock was hard and hot in her hand, the twitch of his shoulders a certain tell that he was growing impatient. She knew he'd likely been burning with anticipation for hours now, waiting for her to wake and recover so that he could touch her for the first time in weeks. He'd missed her as much as she'd missed him, and she knew that. The way he drank her in now was a sure sign that he'd take her any way he could, and that if she didn't decide what she wanted in the next few seconds she'd be pinned beneath him with his fangs buried in her neck as he took her hard and fast.

Not a bad outcome, but one she wanted to save for later.

He let her flip them, watched her with hungry eyes as she got up on her knees and shifted to straddle him, nosing the line of his neck as he shifted to sit against the headboard, pulling over with him, his cock hard against her belly. "I want you too," she said, the admission as easy as breathing, tipping her head to the side to allow Klaus to press light kisses against her neck.

He groaned out her name when she reached to stroke him a few times, positioning him at her entrance and sinking down, his lips catching hers in lazy kisses as they found a familiar rhythm. He pressed his forehead against hers, his fingertips branding her hips as he filled her, chuckling at the soft sigh that escaped her lips when he began to move faster, her head falling back to allow him to run his tongue along her pulse point. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered against her neck. “The feel of your skin beneath my fingers, the way your breath catches when I touch you..."

"I missed you too."

She hissed when his fingertip found his bite wound on the back of her thigh and shifted slightly to try to soothe the burn of it, the skin pulsing with a sharp pain that was starting to overtake the pleasure it gave her. He always seemed to know exactly when the venom began to grow to be too much, and he tipped his head to the side, a clear invitation.

"Good, sweetheart," he praised as she drank, stroking her hair with a gentle touch even as his hips moved faster, rougher, just the way she liked it. The more he touched her the hungrier she became to rediscover every part of him. "Close?"

She pulled back from his neck and nodded, letting her fangs retract and humming her assent before burying her face in his shoulder, moaning when his hand tangled in her curls to tug at them gently, making her clench around him. She could feel her release building quickly now, her toes curling, fingernails digging into his back. She could hear him breathing harshly, hissing out her name when she fell apart around him, coming inside of her moments later. She stayed comfortably pressed against him as she waited for the rush to fade, humming in contentment when he began to lazily stroke her spine, burying his nose in her hair.

"Can we just stay in bed today?" she asked, making no move to slide off of him.

"Of course, love. Still tired?"

"No, I'm good. Just lazy."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek and helping her shift to a more comfortable position draped across his body. "Well, I'm perfectly content to stay here for as long as you like."

"Don't you have important supervillain meetings?" she teased. "To terrorize your enemies and put all of the werewolfy predator fear in their hearts?"

"None that are so important to necessitate us interrupting the well-deserved vacation I promised you."

"Good. I know you always say we have eternity for vacations, but--"

"Even eternity is too short to waste a moment that I could be spending with you," he interrupted, his tone much too formal for the total Disney content that had just come out of his mouth.

She snorted, turning on her side to look at him, reaching to stroke the stubble on his cheek. "I know you hate it when I say you're cute--"

"I do."

"But that was cute. Cheesy, but cute."

"I am neither cheesy nor cute, love. I'm--."

"Yeah, yeah. The nightmare of many. Supernatural boogeyman. Evil supervillain predator who rips out all the hearts. You can still be cute with me. Those aren't mutually exclusive."

She grinned at how offended he looked. It wasn't the first time she'd said it, not by a long shot, but it never failed to push his buttons.

Exactly her plan.

"It's okay to be a cute supervillain predator," she continued, trying to fight down a smile and mostly failing. "Everyone is a multi-faceted person with a lot of layers and nuance, and--"

His smile was all teeth, his eyes flashing gold. "Don't you think it may be unwise to insult the most powerful creature you've met, sweetheart?"

Her hair brushed against the bird tattoo inked along his shoulder as she bent to nip his ear. "Why? Do you bite?"

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline drabble #klaroline smut #klaroline fanfiction #mydrabbles #my fanfiction #anon #ask #answer

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catsdaydreams · 6 years ago

Text

Matters of the Crown Preview

If you’ve been following my blog for any amount of time then you know, I stan satan herself a queen @drakewalkerwhipped.

Her latest fic Linked here pls read and cry with me is actually causing me physical pain. So here’s a drabble to make my life a little brighter.

Pairing: Kendra x ?

who knows. My whimsical writing kind of does its own thing. I just really needed something to ease the pain. Ill be honest, I didn’t plan for this to be a When the crown calls extension yet here we are.

I watched the crowd mingle with a bored sip of my champagne, watching as the same boring show would play out over the course of a few hours. Nobles would slip in and out and pretend they weren't slipping quickies in the hallway. Across the ballroom I met the blue eyes of a certain blonde haired king. He too was taking the crowd in from a distance, and he pointed his chin to the far corner of the room. There I spotted my own husband joining in the mix, whispering something into the ear of some visiting nobles son. The brunette boy he was conversing with threw his head back in earnest laughter and I caught Maxwell’s attention over the mans shoulder. Maxwell flashed me his mega watt smile and rose a toast to me, his universal way of inviting me to the conversation. Instead of joining him I rose my glass in response and blew him a kiss, and he winked in response.

I hadn’t noticed Liam settling in beside me until he cleared his throat, “You aren’t going to join him?” Liam asked politely. Maxwell and I’s shared bed was hardly a secret in Cordonia, however our private side discretion's were a little less public. “There’s no need, I’m not really in the mood to entertain tonight, and Max knows where he comes home to at night.” I said, ignoring the way Liam never took his eyes off me as I stared into my champagne. “It doesn’t bother you?” He asked, turning to watch the two boys in the corner. I shrugged, “why would it? Max has always loved a party, and there are somethings I can’t offer him. It doesn’t make him love me less, and honestly neither of us are possessive, so it works.”

Liam sipped on his drink and I finally dared to glance at him, noticing his longing look towards Olivia. The emerald gems set into her crown accented her freckles and red hair perfectly. Everything about her screamed poise and perfection, and it was in my own hazy state that I realized that Liam must have hated that. Our own history reminded me how much he hated decorum and perfection. I nudged Liam with my shoulder, “I imagine that she doesn’t like the maze as much.” I said, attempting to contain my giggle.

Liam met my gaze, some of the earlier shadow lifted as his eyes crinkled from his smile. “Oh, everyone enjoys the maze,” he said, as he nodded towards Kiara. “Livvy just doesn’t enjoy it with me, it appears.” He stated and it took Liam’s suggestive comment for me to notice the looks that Kiara kept sneaking at Olivia and then the clock. He downed he drink in his hand, and although the staff profusely denied any basis there always seemed to be a waiter lurking near by when Liam finished his drink. He graciously accepted with a nod towards the waiter. “They’ll wait until the party dies down and then I wont see Olivia again until the next social outing.”

My small smile died at his words, “What? Why didn’t you tell us about this?” I gasped at him. He gave a sad smile, “I didn’t want to ruin your honeymoon glow.” I glanced back at Max, who had disappeared into the night. I had been so caught up in our own doings in the last month I hadn’t given much thought to Olivia and Liam being thrown together in a rapid manner after he all but left me at the metaphorical alter.

“I’m sorry Liam.” I said quietly, ignoring the pang in my chest at the memory. “You don’t wear a crown with love.” He responded and the pang in my chest deepened. Out of my peripherals I spotted max tugging the brunette man from earlier towards our spot at the edge of the room. Both of their lips swollen and hair lightly disheveled.

“Kenzie!” Max said with delight, but I didn’t miss the sharp glance he gave to Liam’s proximity. I shuffled uncomfortably at the look of jealousy on his face. “This is Parker Bright,” he said gesturing to the confused brunette beside him. Max wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me close before pressing a deep kiss on my lips in greeting. “Max,” I giggled shoving his chest lightly, “don’t embarrass your guest. You know you cant kiss like that inside the ball room, not to mention addressing the king.” I shook my head at him playfully. Shadows hung behind Maxwell’s eyes as he nodded a greeting to Liam, “King Liam,” he addressed, his voice hardening just enough for only Liam and I to notice, and we exchanged a glance. Liam took a subtle step away from me.

Parker looked confused as he watched the exchange, quickly issuing an awkward greeting once he took note of Liam. “Parker, this is my wife Duchess Kendra.” Max said beaming at the man. Parker’s face fell and he forced a smile and an outstretched hand to me. “Duchess Kendra, I apologize, I didn’t realize that I had stolen the Dukes time from you.” He said, stressing the word Duke at Maxwell, who simply beamed wider. “Don’t worry, Kenzie doesn't mind, and hopefully we can all get a pizza tonight.” He said suggestively, and Parker visibly relaxed.

“Probably not tonight my love, however you know the way back to the suite in the dark?” I said, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “Of course. I love you little blossom. I’ll see you in the morning.” He said pressing a kiss to both of my checks and sparing a glace at Liam. “And I trust that you’ll be waiting for me.” He said and turned to leave. “Always,” I responded in earnest “ Love you.”

Parker leaned in as well to kiss my cheeks in farewell, and dropped his voice low enough to only be heard by me “I apologize, I didn’t realize he was a married Duke.” I laughed pulling back to switch sides, “Would it have made a difference? He is free to follow his own desires.”

The man smiled at me and took Maxwell’s hand allowing himself to be tugged towards the large double doors that lead to the rest of the palace as Max blew me a kiss over his shoulder. Max and I did not have rules, however I suspected my prior engagement to Liam made him wary of the two of us together, not that we’d ever crossed that line. Liam had made his feelings towards me explicitly known when he left me for Olivia, stating that she would make a far superior wife and queen. Maxwell had made his own engagement with Penelope to spite me when Liam and I announced ours. It was a dark point in our relationship that we didn’t like to reflect on.

Our bed had been private until a drunken trip to Greece with Leo, his wife, and the rest of our crew to include Madeline. Max happened to bring some kind of drug with him that imitated ecstasy, one thing led to another and we ended up in some yurt on the beach cuddled up with Leo and Madison in the morning. Leo had sheepishly announced his divorce and subsequent new relationship with Madeline, and after they left Maxwell and I were left with our own awkward conversation about where our relationship stood after the previous night.

As it turned out, neither of us were possessive, and the idea of physically sharing didn’t bother us. However the emotional line was a boundary neither of us were willing to let the other cross. So we set about our ways, exploring this new world of possibilities together, and it had been great for the last few years. “So if she has a side piece why don’t you?” I asked, noticing Drakes hand subtly rubbing Penelope’s lower back in the crowd. The two of them obviously trying- and failing- to be discreet about their new relationship. “To what end?” Liam sighed, his eyes scanning the crowd as well.

“I never wanted to marry a women who’s heart wasn’t mine. It’s why I could never marry Madeline, or-” He stopped, swirling his champagne and taking a long sip. Heat flushed outwards from my chest as anger stirred within me. “Don’t even give me the pity act, Liam Ryhs. My heart was yours and you decided that you didn’t want it.” I snapped, the buzz in my veins spurring me on. I swallowed the memories threatening to surface at the reminder of what had been.

Liam turned to me in shock, my outburst catching him off guard. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up the past.” He said awkwardly. I glared up at him unflinchingly, “Yes well, you did. And I was merely correcting you.” I said stiffly. I had loved Liam then. Perhaps not as much as I loved Maxwell, but I loved him all the same. For him to claim that he left me because of my lack of emotion towards him instead of just admitting his own cowardice of his father stirred an anger that I hadn’t revisited in a long time.

Liam’s shock hardened, “Your heart always belonged to Max, Ken.” He responded, his voice low and laced with emotion. My anger softened at the old nickname. I hadn’t heard it in years. “Well King Liam.” I said promptly, “I think its getting rather late. I’m going to turn in for the night.” I didn’t give him the chance to respond as I set off towards the large ornate doors and followed the corridors I knew by heart to reach the large suite Max and I were assigned.

I changed into one of Max’s tee-shirts as I lingered by the edge of the bed. I let my mind wander back to a long forgotten memory of Liam and I curled together in the bed. I could almost smell his cologne as I shifted under the covers and curled up, my mind spinning with thoughts and emotions from long ago. My eyes closing in a drunken haze as I let the memories drift over me guiding me into sleep.

#IDK it just did what it wanted #so i posted it #lmao #i need to be working on the heir but im lazzyyy #Im not sure where this is going or why i felt the need to write it but ok.#when the crown calls

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theharellan · 7 years ago

Note

Do you think there is a difference in how Solas views city elves vs how he views Dalish?

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on | accepting

don’t reblog this one pl

There are some misconceptions about Solas’s feelings re: city elves, I think. People tend to see them as more negative than they are? There are certainly problems with his perspective on them, but it’s not nearly as hostile as you might expect, after hearing his position on the Dalish.

First, some cliff notes on what he has to say about city elves in dialogue with the Inquisitor:

If you ask him about city elves when you have his approval (or are Elvhen yourself) he will say that they have a few rituals that they cling to differentiate themselves from humans, and notes that these rituals are common of those belonging to oppressed groups. His tone isn’t hostile, or derisive, but sad or, at worst, neutral.

After completing WE&WH you can either apologise or imply he should be happy about the outcome, depending upon Briala’s fate. He will then express surprise, and state he does not feel he has much in common with the elves. However, he does express admiration for Briala, and believes that (if she lives) she will do her best to serve the city elves.

If you have negative approval, you can accuse him of abandoning the elves. This conversation is a little more general than specifically about city elves, but he explains that as things are now he can’t see himself helping more than a few people (and admits that is more than nothing). If you pick the right option he will drop a Veil-destruction comment, implying that his plans to help the elves will not happen so long as the world is structured as it is.

And now, I’ll go over how each scene helps explain his perspective on city elves:

There isn’t all that much to say about this one, but it indicates feelings that are echoed more strongly in the second conversation about city elves. I will note, however, that he does not feel as strongly about city elves upholding these old elven rituals as he does the Dalish. For example, in the quest “Flowers for Senna” he does not disapprove, even if the widower in question clearly believes in the Elvhen gods and the Herald can invoke Falon’Din, he, in fact, approves of it. (It is possible this elf is Dalish or of Dalish heritage, but he has no vallaslin and looks like he’s supposed to be 50 at least, and lacks an accent, so I think it’s likely not the former).I think this is ultimately the problem with how Solas approaches city elves versus the Dalish. The slack he gives city elves has a lot to do with how city elves have to live with human rituals every day, compared to the Dalish who are more solitary. When, in fact, both groups of elves are holding onto their rituals (in part) as an act of rebellion against their human oppressors. A lot of this has to do with his bitterness about his attempts to reaching out to the Dalish being met with derision and accusations of madness, and I understand why he’s so much more hostile about their beliefs, but it’s Not Good. It also has to do with something I’m getting to next.

This conversation is a weird one because if you’re Dalish you might say a line that contains the phrase “our people” and Solas will then act surprised. This is after Solas himself has potentially invoked the line “our people” with Lavellan, so like-- obviously he knows what they mean? I think it’s clunky writing having to do with so many races being possible choices, but the best I can explain it is his surprise is specifically due to the connection made between himself and city elves. He doesn’t see having much in common with them besides race, compared to the Dalish where he can at least recognise remnants of his culture, even while they are incorrect on many fronts. Therefore, it’s a lot easier for him to recognise Dalish elves as “our” people.And I can understand that perspective. Solas fell asleep at least a thousand years ago. For perspective: I’m English, 1018 was about a half-century before the Norman invasion of England, and a couple hundred years after the Viking raids/invasions began. If some English woman from 1018 for whatever reason fell asleep and woke up in 2018 and had a talk with me (ignoring that we wouldn’t even speak the same language) I’d be surprised if she did feel like she had something in common with me right away. And this is all without the persistent oppression the elves faced, that further destroyed their culture in the way that mine didn’t have to endure. And this is also without factoring in the fact that the very fabric of the world changed, with the implications that a body wasn’t even necessary to be elvhen.Recognising themselves in modern elves seems to be a consistent problem with Elvhenan elves, too. Felassan and Abelas also struggle with feeling connected to them, and Flemythal, someone who has been around and aware longer than the three of them, tends to keep the elves at arm’s length in dialogue. She is warmer to the likes of Merrill and Lavellan, but even in the scene where she reveals she is also Mythal, there isn’t a recognition as the elves, even Dalish elves like the aforementioned two, being “her” people-- although, this could just as likely be a result of her being in the body of a human.This section got a little long, but I’ll sum up: Solas feeling disconnected from city elves isn’t really a sign that he feels negatively towards them, and he recognises them as elves, potentially saying in the lead-up to the confusion about who his people are “... [Briala will] look after the elves.”

Again, I think this is relatively self-explanatory. There isn’t really word on whether all elves are welcome to join Solas’s cause. I go with “they are” because it opens up more rping opportunities, and because rp has afforded me the opportunity to allow that character development. In Trespasser, a slide makes mention of elven servants across Thedas disappearing. This means either his ancient elvhen agents have infiltrated enough servant positions that them leaving is something people noticed, or that he has reached out to modern elves. If the latter, the fact that they are city elves, specifically, is interesting.

Now, we’ve covered his conversations with the Inquisitor, but there’s someone else who I really want to talk about: Sera. Sera isn’t a typical city elf, and probably resents the term a little, but nevertheless his attitude towards her both does and doesn’t inform potential attitudes about city elves.

At multiple points, Solas reaches out to Sera in a manner specifically related to their shared elfish-ness. He’ll speak Elvhen to her, wondering if she might understand its meaning through its rhythm, and ask her how she perceives the Breach in a way that seems unique to elves. In the latter conversation he even says “we are not so far apart, you and I.” But at the same time, he also tells her she is the “farthest from what she is meant to be.” I feel that comment is specific to Sera, whose internalised racism due to abuse has spurred her even further from the Elvhen identity, but let’s be honest: it’s a shit thing to say to someone. I don’t know if there’s any structure to the order their banter comes in, but I tend to get the ones where Solas reaches out before anything else, and I take both of these characters with me a fair amount throughout my playthroughs because I love them both (also they have the best classes).

The rest, however, kind of conflicts with conversations he has with the Inquisitor about city elves (which is honestly??? Expected at this point. See: my meta about Solas and Qunari, that I can’t find right now so I guess you can’t see that). I tend to see it as a willingness to connect with city elves. He definitely sees himself in Sera, the young rebel willing to start a fight, who cares deeply for the oppressed, though I think this has as much do with Sera’s personality as it does with her being an elf (that being said, the two can’t be easily separated). And, as I noted, he attempts to connect with her on a shared Elvhen heritage.

What I glean from this is that, while Sera pushes away his attempts to connect, other city elves may not. And that he’s more willing to try to connect with city elves than some people tend to imagine him as? That the default is what I stated in the numbered sections above, but Sera (and, in rp, other non-Dalish elves he interacts with and grows fond of) helps him see similarities in ways he hadn’t before Inquisition. If it turns out all elves are welcome among his agents, then I think Sera (and a Dalish Inquisitor, if befriended) might be why. Or, again, because this is rp: non-Dalish elves he connects with.

tl;dr - Solas’s opinions of city elves aren’t negative. He supports their advancement via Briala, and does not judge when they invoke gods he knows would not care to listen. I only wish he exercised this attitude more when it came to the Dalish.

While he’s pretty willing to drag the Dalish, he doesn’t do so with city elves, and rather expresses a disconnection that, ironically, many Dalish elves also express in games and lore. However, banter with Sera indicates he tries to find things he has in common with them based upon shared elvishness, and Trespasser might imply that he has welcomed them into his ranks.

RP-wise this means don’t assume his prejudice towards the Dalish extends to all elves, and it also means: city elves (or non-Dalish in general), come plot with me.

I could probably go on and note how disconnection from one’s own race and/or culture is not only not unique to Solas, but not unique to elves in Dragon Age. Inquisition in particular deals with it a lot: Bull with the Qun, Varric with the dwarves, Harding with dwarves, Dagna with dwarves, Cassandra with Nevarra, Leliana with the Chantry, Cadash/Adaar with their races, and, obviously, Sera. Heck, even Lavellan, while not rejected in the way a Surface dwarf is from Orzammar, is forced to play herald for another people’s god. It’s a really interesting theme imo, and how some characters explore it via banter (Solas, Varric, Sera) or in Trespasser (Sera, Bull) is fascinating. I’d love to draw comparisons between these characters one day, but probably not on this blog b/c it’s not strictly Solas related.

#( headcanons )#( solas meta )#( ooc )#dorf elgar ( anonymous ask )#( asks )

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adelheidvonschicksal · 3 years ago

Text

@yuujispinkhair

Sneak Preview of everything I've touched in the last 2 weeks. A lot of these are very rough drafts so lots of bad spelling, and will probably never be finished LOL I have 3 chapters of the Nanami x Gojo AU just cus I couldn't stop. Now it'll never be done.

Pairing: Megumi x F!Reader

Content Warning: Sex Pollen, Dubcon, NSFW

Megumi really hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. No. That’s not entirely true. He’s wanted something like this for a long time coming now. Your sweet pussy straining around his throbbing cock. The innocence draining from your face with every thrust into you as you lay pliant and ready underneath him. He’s dreamed of the sight too many times to count. Fisted himself into the late hours of the night and the wee hours of morning to your image in his head.

He had wanted it.

Just not like this.

The fat globs of tears springing from your eyes rolled down your face. They swell, big and shimmering, thick and glossy, in the corner of your eyes before disappearing into the dark muck caked on your cheeks. Megumi draws himself from you, pressing his fingers back into the plush curve of your waist. You obediently fold towards him, hips arching off the ground, shavings of leaves clinging like magnets to your sticky and sweaty flesh, all as you ready for his pelvis to reconnect with yours.

Your voice breaks and fissures like ice crackling over water. His name is heavy on your tongue, drowned out only by the sound of your wetness squishing and echoing in his ears. It’s a tainted form of faded red that leaks out of you and foams around the base of his cock in shades of pink the more he collects your juices on his shaft.

He should’ve known you were a virgin. You were hopelessly timid, a little soft spoken and unsure whenever someone would speak to you. Your lack of understanding in the language didn’t help in diluting that shyness.

The precious innocent looks you’d given him so many times before when you’d ask him to help you ring in his head, clouded with flames of desire and waters of agony at the girlish whimper that draws out from lips more swollen than he’s ever seen.

“Megumi, I have an extra special gift for you from overseas.”

“Not interested.”

“Trust me, you’ll love this. It’s sent straight from Yuta Okkotsu himself,” Gojo announces excitedly. It’s enough to gain Megumi’s attention until his teacher moves to reveal a foreign dressed girl. “This is (y/n). Your first new classmate. Aren’t you excited?”

“Why did you introduce her like she’s some kind of new pet?” Megumi asks, not surprised when Satoru ignores him.

“She’s new to jujutsu and Japan and your power sets are a little similar so I want you to look out for her and show her the ropes while she’s here. So be sure to be nice, not like your usual self.”

“I’m plenty nice, just not to you,” Megumi thinks to himself but is interrupted when he hears you speak up. You bow towards him, a perfect 90-degree angle, and he doesn’t have it in his heart to tell you that you’re bowing way to deep towards someone like him.

Then, you speak.

The heat creeps up his neck before he can even notice it. Your voice…Your accent…both were so precious. “It’s nice to meet you. Pl-Please be good to me, senpai.”

Fuck.

He’s sorry.

He’s so so sorry.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Warnings: Sex Work, NSFW

It’s guttural the way Satoru curses in your ear, so unlike his playful nature that everyone knows. It’s nothing new. You’ve come to learn a lot of the different sides to Satoru since you’ve been doing this job. You’d bargain to say that you know more about him than anyone else.

You especially know the different ways he’d fuck you depending on his mood. When he was playful, he’d make you ride him, forcing you to work to earn his climax like he wasn’t the one to come crawling to you for sex. Sometimes he could be slow, delicate, border line making love, but Satoru Gojo doesn’t love anyone, not in that way, so you know those days meant he was upset about something he was keeping bottled in. Today, he’s rough, obviously pent up. One large hand gripped in your hair to hold your head back and lunge at your neck with his mouth, and the other cupped the back off your ass.

He grunts into the crook of your neck. “God, I love when you clench up like that.”

You barely manage to collect enough breath to reply as he pistons his cock back into you. It seems like you’ll have to call out tomorrow since he’s determined to break your pussy over his cock. “Baby, I’m almost there. Satoru, you te— oh, fuck, that’s it.”

You don’t know how he always manages it, but he tracks that sensitive spot inside you that makes you dizzy. You rut your hips forward, desperate for more of his cock right there. Climaxing isn’t a luxury you’re always afforded yet with Satoru it’s a guarantee.

Pairing: Megumi x F!Reader

Content Warning: Sex Work, NSFW

“Hello, hello, what can I d—” your voice catches in your throat when you meet dark blue eyes, highlighted with apathy, and spiky black hair strewn wildly in various directions over a handsome face. “Fushiguro-san?”

You’re in shock to say the least seeing the one person who always made it a point to avoid being in your presence for more than a few minutes at a time standing in front of your door.

He clears his throat, awkwardly. “Hey. Are you with someone?”

You lead him in to sit on your couch. Your mind is still a little slow, and you find it hard to put on your usual inviting demeanor due to the strangeness of the situation.

“Could you wait here for a minute? I need to wash up a little.”

You escape to the bathroom to brush your teeth and give yourself time to think about why he’d possibly be here. Megumi Fushiguro didn’t really “appreciate” your position on this campus. He never bullied you about it, not like the other members from his estranged family, but you vividly recall him telling his vessel friend that you were a “courtesan” and when asked for more clarification, he corrected to “a glorified hooker”.

You’d say it hurt your feelings, but it wasn’t an incorrect definition. You were paid by the school, housed on the school, for the sole purpose of keeping the sorcerers happy by any means necessary and as long as it was legal. Not the worst job depending on who visited you. Some people did simply just need someone to talk with or cuddle, but it’d be a lie to say it wasn’t for one thing eighty percent of the time.

Which begs the question why was Megumi Fushiguro here?

Pairing: Yuuji Itadori x Reader

Content Warning: Angst

It didn’t matter how many times you had to reject invitations from your friends so you can leave campus to fight off a monster, only to return with scratches and wounds covering your body.

It was all for him, like he had sacrificed so much for everyone else. You’d be fine sacrificing some of yourself if it meant he could keep living.

“That’s a nasty bruise you got there.”

You look up from your textbook to find Nobara looking at you, concerned laced in her eyes as she examines your face. “That wasn’t there yesterday. You get in a fight? Do I need to teach someone some manners?”

You realize her question has drawn the two boys of your team to look at you as well. You very well couldn’t tell them that you had gotten your face smacked by a human-like curse. Bowing your head, you say the first excuse that comes to your mind, “It’s from training. Maki-san has really been putting me through the ringer.”

“Really? Sheesh,” you hear Yuji, the sweet boy frowning at you. “You should really tell her to ease up on you. I’ll even ask her with you.”

“There’s no need to go through all that trouble.”

“Still… you’ve been looking pretty tired lately, sure you’re okay, I could lend you some of my make-up.” Kugisaki offers, but you shake your head as you focus on this sensation surrounding the resonating of the finger burning in your pocket. Something was nearby and coming fast.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you tell them and stand from your seat, quickly searching your brain for some kind of excuse to leave and find a place where you could deal with the issue of the incoming curse on your own. “I’m going to go see if Shoko can heal it for me. I’ll be back,” you explain, leaving the three together in the classroom.

“She’s lying,” Fushiguro announces as soon as you’re out of earshot, drawing the others attention to him, their faces asking how he could possibly know. “Maki has been out on a mission for the last three days.”

Megumi x StepMom!Reader

Content Warning: NSFW, Breeding, Stepcest

Megumi swore he’d never return here.

Once he turned eighteen, he left this house without so much as a goodbye to the other inhabitants in it as he escaped to college, to freedom, to not having to follow after his father and his latest conquest, to not have to have someone enter his life, to spend enough time with his newest siblings long enough for him to develop some sort of attachment as soon as they’re taken away.

Then, he’d find another place for a little while only to pack the memories in boxes and start all over again.

That’s why he was happy to move to college with his friends and stay in the dorms all before this stupid pandemic hit and shoved him back into the house with his deadbeat father and latest stepmother.

Megumi stands outside the door, fumbling his keys in his hands. It had been five months he’d been away. His father claimed he’d probably come crawling back home within the year, and Megumi cursed that the man was right.

He enters the house and kicks off his shoes at the door before walking into the living room. The first sight he sees is exactly one of the reasons he left in the first place.

You’re sitting on the couch, well, in his father’s lap. Your hands are wrapped around his neck while his cup your ass, and the two of you didn’t bother parting until he clears his throat.

“Ah, Megumi, didn’t know you were coming back today,” his father croaks out, a slight slur to his words, and Megumi already knows that means he’s been drinking before noon at that. Even if he hadn’t been drinking, Toji doesn’t have enough shame to tear away from your body.

“I texted you three times,” Megumi thinks, but there isn’t any point in voicing his irritation to Toji especially when you’re in his grasp, so Megumi carries his bags upstairs to the small room that he had for his own.

It’s a small room fit for a child but not so much for a college student. Megumi sighs, beginning to wonder how to come terms that this is where he gets to spend the remaining of his school year. Probably the rest of his time in this house if the two of you keep making out in the middle of the house like horny school children.

Todoroki x F!Reader

Content Warning: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort

Your life was perfect except for the fact that the man you married didn’t love you back.

He loved someone else from his high school. She was a beautiful girl with long, shiny black hair, a model like physique, and an angel’s face. You’ve only met her twice in your life. Once, when you went to meet your future husband at his house, and his father became angry upon seeing the other girl there and kicked her out. The second was when she asked you to be good to her ex-boyfriend when it became clear that the wedding was going to go through successfully.

You promised her you would even if at the time you weren’t in love with him as you had been prepared for this situation your entire life. No matter who your husband was going to be, you would eventually have to learn to love him. That’s the way you were raised, as a trading piece expected to marry higher in society, and a silly part of you hoped he could one day show love to you too.

You should’ve forgotten that dream when “I do” on your wedding day quickly became “why did it have to be you” on your wedding night.

But somewhere along the way, through having to take care of him, you think you may have fooled yourself into believing all those little things you did were acts of love rather than obligation. Love to you was always scrounging for crumbs of other people’s affection, and life with Shouto was really no different than life back with your family.

And just like that, you wanted to try to make him happy enough to win even a miniscule amount of his affection. The closest you’ve probably ever gotten to success is when he told you your cooking was passable after you had to plead with his sister to teach you his favorite foods.

That’s the closest he’s ever let you to him willingly.

Pairing: Nanami x F!Reader x Gojo

Content Warning: NSFW, Soulmate AU

It’s been three weeks.

Three weeks of relative bliss with your boyfriend.

You didn’t know what brought the sudden change, but you aren’t going to complain when Satoru is coming home to you every night or when you watch movies together with his head rested in your lap.

The ache has completely disappeared in the coming days.

You could fly from how light your chest feels, but you’d come crashing back to earth soon as you remember the days of pleasure are always leading to the beacons of pain.

You start collecting clothes to wash, separating your whites and coloreds along the way. Poking your head into your bedroom, you call out to Satoru. “Babe, I’m washing clothes. If you got ‘em,, hand ‘em over.”

He walks out the bathroom, a towel around his waist and a bundle of dirty clothes in his hand that he trades out for something more casual.

“Going out tonight?” you ask.

“Mhm. Gotta meet the geezers,” he says, buttoning his pants before reaching for his shirt. As he turns, you notice three lines. Three thin scraggly lines going across the back of his shoulder.

Squeezing your clothes, you tell yourself he could’ve got it from a curse. Then, your brain thinks that you shouldn’t be stupid.

He has infinity.

Nothing touches him unless he wants to be touched.

He kisses your forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

Walking to the washroom, you toss his clothes in with your own and pull your fresh ones out of the dryer. You carry them to your bedroom to fold and put away but find yourself squeezing onto the fabric.

You throw your shirt down and walk to your walk-in closet. Your hands immediately fly towards the pink suitcase nestled in the back. Angrily, you lunge it on top of your bed and begin to place your folded clothes in.

You couldn’t take it anymore. This is when you need to get away from him, from the way he always makes you feel like you’re not enough. You reach for your phone, wanting to call Satoru, to hear him offer you any sort of pleading, give him one last chance to prove he actually wanted you around.

But you’re sure he wouldn’t care. He’d probably say you’d come back.

You hated having someone so arrogant as your soulmate.

You’re not sure how he was in your past life; but in this one, the world obviously made a mistake choosing the two of you to be together.

Then, you feel your back burning and hiss. It’s practically searing on your skin. If there was a sound, you’re sure it’d be sizzling. You draw your hand back, rubbing to comfort it.

Once it stops, you pull your hand away, confused as to why it happened. The world must be punished for having such nasty thoughts about your soulmate, but it does allow you a moment to breathe and rethink.

Today is Saturday.

Saturday meant Nanami would probably go to the lounge.

You make your decision and call Nanami.

Swallowing thickly to calm your shaking voice, you ask, “Nanami, do you want some company?”

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Content Warning: Incest, Stepcest, NSFW

You hate Satoru.

No, that’s not quite right.

You fucking hate Satoru.

You know that you shouldn’t talk like that. Satoru would say it didn’t suit your pretty face and cursing would give you premature wrinkles, which makes it all the more delicious to finally say. Wrinkles be damned.

Because in your head, all you see is repeats of him on the couch with some woman’s cunt halfway down his cock. The familiar irritation that shot its path through you, jolting your heart like lightning, is understandable. That was your spot. Satoru had told you it was all for you, hadn’t he? That you took his cock so well, that you were his little pillow princess, and that your pretty pussy belongs to him before marking it with his cum inside and out and making it so. So, why?

“Oh, (y/n), I thought you were out with Megumi.”

It was spoken so casually, not a waver in his voice, not a glint of guilt in his eye. Could he even feel guilty when it comes to something like this?

“I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to stay home. Sorry to intrude.”

You’re really sorry. Sorry to have caught him, but it wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Ah, don’t worry about her., baby” His voice echoes in the hall. “She’s my little sister.”

It wasn’t fair how he could use you like this. You’re supposed to be his number one girl. Only you. Not some big tittied bimbo.

If your big brother wasn’t going to appreciate you then you had another big brother who would! That would show Satoru that you weren’t one to be trifled with.

You turn your head to your adopted brother. His hand skims over the popcorn bowl in his lap, completely unaware of you scooting closer. It’s a deadly mistake in the presence of a hunter.

“Megumi-ni,” you coo innocently, “can I ask you something?”

“I’m not getting you a drink. Get it yourself.”

You whine pitifully. “But that isn’t what I was going to ask!”

“Fine. What is it?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

Sneak preview

Since the lovely @adelheidvonschicksal asked for it, here's a sneak preview of the stories I'm currently working on. (I have others too, but they aren't anywhere close to showing you a snippet lol) I know I should focus on one thing but I just cannot do that! I am chaotic.

Some of the previews are 18+, so minors don't interact. All the characters are of age.

Character x Reader:

Megumi x Reader.

Megumi x Reader x Yuuji

Character x Character:

Itafushi

Sukuita

Megumi x Reader (female): Halloween (No title yet)

Genre: 18+, smut

Your heart is fluttering in your chest when you feel Megumi's fingers making their way up your thigh, under your skirt, and higher... You whine because his fingers stop right before they can reach where you want them the most. Megumi pulls away from your kiss with a smirk and a dangerous glint in his eyes. He leans back and lets his gaze travel over you again. He looks at you like the vampires on his tv-screen look at their prey. There's something feral about him when he gets really horny, and it never fails to make you lose your mind for him. You want him to claim you, want to be his so bad. "Gumi? Do you like my costume? Am I a cute kitten?" His smirk grows bigger, making him look arrogant and so so sexy. "I like the costume. Not sure about the rest, though. You have to show me whether you are a cute kitten or not." Your breath hitches. So that's what this is gonna be? He's in the mood to play games. Fuck. Your lips part in a moan that's far too needy. But you can't help it. It's just so hot when your sweet boyfriend shows his meaner side. You love that he is so dominant in bed. Love the way he takes control and makes you his little pet. You nod eagerly. "Yes, I'll show you."

Megumi x Reader (female) x Yuuji: Sharing is Caring Part 2

Genre: 18+, smut

Warnings for the preview: mentions of oral, cum eating

You are slumped against Megumi's chest, completely wrecked, panting, and face red. You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as Yuuji kneels on the bed in front of you, smiling like the sunshine that he is, his lips glistening wet from your cum. A low moan is heard. Megumi. You can even feel it in his chest from where you're leaning against him. "Itadori… come here." He sounds breathless, but his voice still has that commanding tone. Yuuji does as Megumi tells him and crawls over to him. The muscles in his arms flex, drawing your gaze to them and leaving you marveling at how beautiful and strong he is. He stops next to Megumi's side and leans closer. You turn your head to see what the boys are up to, and your eyes widen when you see it. Yuuji's still smiling as he presses his lips to Megumi's and kisses him. You bite your lip hard as you drink in the sight in front of you. Megumi's hand cups his best friend's chin and kisses him back. You see their mouths opening, tongues meeting and lapping at each other. They are exchanging your cum through that kiss, you realize. You watch them hungrily, another bolt of pleasure coursing through your pussy and up your stomach. God, they look so sexy like that! And they are both making those needy noises, soft whimpers and moans as they taste you in their kiss. They gave you so much pleasure, took such good care of you, but neither of them found release yet. Both still achingly hard, needing to cum too.

Itafushi: Running away together (no title yet)

Rating: Probably mature

Yuuji sits opposite Fushiguro with his hands clutching his blue backpack, which only contains a change of clothes, some toothpaste and toothbrush, and his half-empty shower gel. He suddenly realizes that he forgot to pack any shampoo. "Shit. Did you bring any shampoo?" Fushiguro turns his face towards him after staring out of the window in silence for the last ten minutes. Then, a slight incline of the head, "Yeah, you can use mine." "Ok, thank you, You really think of everything. That's good." Yuuji leans back in his seat. It's ridiculous to worry about a little thing like shampoo when he's currently running away with his best friend from the Jujutsu leaders and their assassin. The thought makes him snort. It sounds like the plot of one of the many action movies he has watched. But somehow, it doesn't feel like in the movies. Maybe because the dramatic music is missing. He remembers that he once read somewhere that music plays a big part. Like if you get scared or too excited, you are advised to mute the sound because it's supposed to make the scene more bearable. As Yuuji still wonders about this, his gaze travels over to Fushiguro. He looks as calm as always. He's looking out the train window again. The light from outside is illuminating his face, and his blue eyes seem even bluer than usual. He looks beautiful. For a moment, Yuuji gets lost in those eyes and the long black lashes. He always tries not to stare too much, but it's hard not to. Fushiguro's gaze suddenly locks with Yuuji's. Oh crap...caught! Did he feel Yuuji staring at him?? Yuuji laughs a bit embarrassed, but before he can stumble over what to say, Fushiguro asks: "Are you ok, Itadori?" There's genuine worry in his voice, and his gaze is so intense that it makes Yuuji feel naked, his soul laid bare before the other boy's eyes. A warm feeling floods his chest. It always does something to his heart when Fushiguro becomes all serious and worried and checks on him. And so Yuuji answers truthfully because Fushiguro deserves the truth. He would also see through the lie if Yuuji pretended everything was fine.

Sukuita: A ritual to separate Sukuna and Yuuji goes wrong (no title yet)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: dubcon

Oh, he really is very glad. Even though this isn't what he planned initially. Seems like the brat is still full of surprises. First, he swallowed Sukuna's finger and freed him from a thousand-year-long prison time. And now he offers this wonderful gift to Sukuna. His helpless little heart on a silver platter. Just like that Itadori Yuuji became Sukuna's. His to toy with, his to manipulate and ruin. The boy's posture crumbles as another sob escapes his lips. His shoulders shake, and he buries his face in his palms, crying for real now. It's the sweetest sound to Sukuna, the desperate sobs, the hiccups, and erratic breaths. Such a lovely mess. Sukuna would love to throw him down and fuck him into the mattress, making him cry even more. His fingers twitch. It's not the first time he had thoughts like that about the brat. He managed to fuel Sukuna's desires from the start. Someone like Itadori is delicious in the way that he feels so much. All those uncontrolled emotions raging through him constantly. The pain, desperation, longing, the desire when he looked at Fushiguro, the hunger, the love, the anger, the pure hatred when he fought that one curse with the patched face. The brat was always a source of sexual fantasies. But Sukuna has to be more level-headed about this. He needs to earn the boy's trust. Form him into his perfect little pet. So he just lets his hand run through Itadori's hair and then settle on the back of his neck and pulls him towards him. "Shh, it's ok. You're safe here. Everything will be fine."

I'll post the Megumi Halloween story first and then probably the second part of Sharing is Caring. Though I'm super invested in the Itafushi and Sukuita stories! But they are both multi-chaptered fics and I think I should finish writing most chapters before I publish the first one. I don't like the thought of having to write under pressure to publish a new chapter every week. But I'm so excited for the moment when I can finally share those stories because I really love writing them so much!

#okay its a lot #but you see im a mess #im already thinking of rent-a-boyfriend yuuji #notsfw #adelssmut #and yes both Sag #terrible attention span Sagittarius's

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