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deathwhoregutfucker · 4 months ago

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Black Metal/DSBM High School AU Headcanons!!

this was sitting in my docs for a hot minute so here yall go. it's really nothing much, i don't do a lot of high school au's but maybe i should... i might expand on some of these headcanons too (ESPECIALLY THE SD x GRAF ONEEE)

Vargelle

Enemies to lovers, Varg would bully the fuck out of him and then they would eventually fall in love (because of course they would)

Varg would confess to him that he’s into him, which is the reason why he would bully him so much (for attention that is, because this is Varg Vikernes we’re talking about, he lives for attention)

Varg would always want him to cut class and just spend time with him whenever Varg would have a free peri at first, but he would still go every time

It would be worth getting in trouble to spend time with Varg

They would usually sit under the bleachers and smoke, maybe make out and pray that they won’t get caught

Pelle would take him to the woods and mess around with him too

I feel like at first, Varg wouldn’t want to be seen with him at school

But everyone knows that he’s a homo, he’ll get over it eventually

Eurodead

Enemies to lovers/one sided enemies to lovers

Pelle would hate Øystein (because he’s antisocial) and Øystein would DESPERATELY try to befriend him

Especially whenever people would bully him :(

He would always come to his defense and protect him, especially when he would get really fucked up

He would always take him to the nurse or patch up his wounds after school

They would start talking in their chemistry class, Øystein would realize that Pelle is struggling and he would offer to help him

At first he denied him, but he eventually would let Øystein him him with his school work

Øystein would invite Per to his house for dinner (because him mom was sick of hearing him gush about it for ages and not actually meet the boy)

His family would be weirded out by him since he doesn’t really talk to anyone aside from Øystein

It would take a while for Øystein’s family to warm up to him, but he would eventually

Necrohammer

Friends to lovers, but probably best friends to lovers, lets be real here

They would have sleepovers all of the time, so they would eventually get cuddly with each other whenever they’d sleep together

And being that close to each other wouldn’t be that big of a deal since they were already in such a close friendship

Which would turn into kissing each other goodnight, but of course, not in a gay way…right? It’s just what friends do?? Right?

WRONG!! They’re sooo gay for each other, and everyone would already assume that they’re dating in the first place because they would be some of the only people who were out at school to begin with, and because they spent so much time together

They would make little gifts for each other all of the time, and they would write songs for each other too

They would go to parties together (on the very rare chance that they get invited) and they would usually just sit in a corner making out with each other

They’re just happy and gay and adorable and I just love that for them so fucking much

Eurovarg

MORTAL ENEMIES TO LOVERS

Eurovarg (both headcanon and canon) is a great example of how hate and love is very similar

Varg drove eight hours to kill Euro, he clearly had to care about him deeply in order to put in that much fucking effort. Come on now.

Again, Varg would start bullying him for attention, you know how this goes…

They would wind up in detention together and catch feelings for each other (recurring theme…)

And the rest is history

Varg would put lots of effort into their relationship too

He would always go out of his way to please Øystein in every single way possible

He would always hold him, not just because he loves him, but because he’s possessive

Especially when they out in public at a show

“You’re so little and I don’t want people taking advantage of you” Varg would tell him

“The only person I have to worry about is you.”

And Varg would pick him up all of the time and Øystein would get all pissy because of it

Faustriz

I feel like they’re be friends to lovers, maybe

They’d be assigned as partners together for some project and they’d grow to like each other more and more

Fenriz would make the first move, he’d kiss him and they’d make out

Then he’d ask him out :D

DEFINITELY grumpy sunshine, I couldn’t think of a better duo to represent it

Fenriz would always make fun of Faust and his (extremely gorgeous and cunning) resting bitch face

He would pout and scowl and just be a little bitchy bitch in general, and Fenriz would always try to make him laugh

But he would eventually crack and lighten up

Fenriz would always make sure that his hickies were showing after every night they would spend together

Faust would get embarrassed at first, but he would wear them proudly after a while and everyone would ask who gave them to him

I love Faustriz so much

Ramirez x Graf

I feel like they would be friends since they’re the only metal guys at school

Your typical depressed loners with no friends and girls never talk to them

Which isn’t that much of an issue since they’re gay for each other

At first, they’d just hang out to have someone to be around, but they would grow to like each other more over time

Ramirez would invite Graf over to his house and he would play with Graf’s hair (and he would always braid it too)

Sometimes he’d put little bows in it (but David would always rip them out despite loving them)

They wouldn’t have any other friends, and everyone would (rightfully) accuse them of dating

They would cut class to make out with each other in the bathroom, and they’d probably get caught quite often too

Ramirez would love taking Graf to parties only to get him drunk and watch all of the other guys force his drunk self into one of the bedrooms to use him

(After Ramirez slips him a roofie of course!)

But that’s besides the point…

Kimgraf

Kim would be painting in art class, Graf would notice how talented he was and compliment him on it

But Kim wouldn’t really care that much at first, and Graf only took the class because he absolutely had to or else he wouldn’t graduate

And he would always sit next to Kim and try to copy whatever he was doing (to no avail)

Sometimes Kim would show him some tips, even putting his hand on David’s to guide it whenever he’d help him

David found it kind of weird that Kim doesn’t really talk, but that would only make him more interested in him

Sometimes, they would go and hang out in the woods after school to smoke since they both loved being outdoors

They’d go to Kim’s house and he would make food for Graf whenever he would stay for dinner

They would end up falling for each other, they give of slow burn vibes

Chrislas (Christian x Niklas)

Niklas would be up Christian for no reason one day, get sent to the office with him to tell the principal what happened, and the principal would give both of them detention

During detention, Christian couldn’t help but notice how Niklas was looking at him…

After, Christian would ask him why he was looking at him like that, he would push him up against the locker and make out with him

After that, Niklas would make it his duty to torment him as much as possible, and Christian would give it right back to him

Over time, Christian would ask why Niklas was bullying him, he’d tell him that he wants to sleep with him

Christian would give in and let him fuck him “just because he wanted the bullying to stop”

They would be in the boys bathroom cutting class, Niklas would push him up against one of the walls in there

But of course, Because it was Niklas, it wouldn’t be in one of the stalls

And they would probably get caught too. Christian just can’t keep his mouth shut.

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erbodd · 5 months ago

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I'm blessed to have found you 💜 Thank you so so much for your work. This artwork is stunning and gives just the right vibe. It illustrates this moment from the second chapter :

His warm and corrosive breath was so close to Christian’s neck that it made him shiver. It also made all this very real. For support, Christian reached for Niklas’ waist and held it. With another deep breath, he put the edge of the glass in contact with Niklas’ marred skin. He applied pressure gradually, unsure of how much would be needed to break through. When the skin gave way, Christian gasped and his hand on Niklas’ waist stiffened. He darted his eyes to Niklas’ face whose eyes were rolling into his skull and mouth half open was letting out a sigh. He felt slightly uncomfortable, like he shouldn’t witness this ; to him, this act has always been something very personal. He hesitated to continue but something told him that Niklas would be angry if he stopped. He steadied his hand and cut the skin open, stopping only as he reached the same length Niklas made himself earlier. He probably cut deeper than he intended, a thin stream of crimson fluid already running down Niklas’ arm.

[divider created by @sister-lucifer]

COMMISSION for @erbodd for her NiklasxChristian fanfiction (which is beautifully written)

Thanks for commissioning me 🧡

#drawing #shining band #niklas kvarforth #christian larsson #commission #awesome art #fanfiction #dsbm #dark enlightenment

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fictionsaroundtheclock · 7 years ago

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Han Som Hatar Människan - Part 6: “All The Things She Said Running Through My Head” (Final)

! Smut Warning !

The time for Kvarforth to return for the second part of the tour had come. The next morning he had to travel back to Sweden. Now he was lying in the arms of Abigail after some really wild and rough sex, soaked with blood. At least Abigail was one of the few to actually enjoy this fetish of his and he appreciated it.

"What's your plan after I leave?" Niklas asked and there was a little tone of grief in his voice.

"The same as before. I will do my strip dancing whenever I am called and during my free time I will enjoy the rest of the life I have to live." Abigail replied blankly.

"Do you really want it to end this way? Didn't we go through enough?" Niklas raised his voice with disappointment. It was his last chance to act, so he couldn't miss it for the world. There was confusion written on Abigail's innocent face. She was about to say something, but he cut her off. "I don't want you to spend the rest of your days stripping in front of some men you don't even know. If you're going to strip for anybody, that's going to be me. I have an offer for you and I'm not leaving until you accept it. I want you to spend the rest of your days remaining with me."

"Niklas, do you even hear what you're saying? You're scaring me. You did take your pills, right?" The girl slightly pulled away from him frightendly.

"At least now don't treat me like a sick man - now when I am for once being straightforward with you. And please be kind enough not to throw this in my face. But I really want you beside me for as long as it's possible. I won't be able to take it if some day someone calls me to tell me you're dead and I haven't had the chance to tell you last goodbye." Niklas was being torn apart between his ego and his need for her, but in the end what would his ego mean if he didn't have her?

"Nik, I can't just leave my job..." Abigail looked at him regretfully. She couldn't believe he had actually found the courage to show her in one way or another that she was important to him.

"You keep doing so much for me. Let me do something for you while I still can. You won't need a job if you're with me."

"That's the problem. I want to take care of my own self."

"For fuck' sake, Abigail! Can't you swallow this pride of yours just for a while?"

"It's not only about pride, Niklas. It's about being a burden."

"You're so not a burden for me, but if you so much desire to work, I can find you something at Shining to work for. Just say you'll come with me." Niklas almost begged. He found himself being able to let go of his pride, otherwise the cost would be her. Abigail looked at him pitifully, wondering if he is to be trusted. On further consideration, he had never let her down and she had actually enjoyed spending time with him. She didn't want to rot all alone for the short time she had to walk the earth and he seemed like the perfect partner for her. Unstable partner, but still someone who could handle her ways.

"Alright then, I'll come with you. I'll quit work tomorrow morning." The girl agreed with mixed feelings. She still didn't know what to think of this new Niklas that appeared to her and seemed to be a real opposite of himself.

"There's something else. The thought of it was killing me even in my sleep, but I thought about it a lot and decided it couldn't be that bad after all. The thing is, Abigail, why don't we have a child together?" Niklas asked stuttering. That really scared Abigail and she jumped out of bed. Niklas wasn’t any less scared of the thought, but it was a risk he was willing to take for something to remember her by and this something to keep him sane when she is gone.

"Niklas, you really are scaring me. You don't want children, remember?" She squealed with the look of a frightened rabbit on her face.

"Could you listen to me, Abigail?" The man barked through his clenched teeth, but came back to his senses and exhaled deeply, hoping he hadn't scared her too much already. He also rolled out of bed and took the girl in his arms. He laid her down on the bed and hovered over her, only lips away from hers. "I had this talk with Christian and he might be young, but he gave me an idea, which I never thought I would approve. He thinks that we should have a child. This way you wouldn't have lived in vain and I would have something worth living another day for, because it would be like a gift from you." Niklas spoke with a gentle and caring tone as he ran his fingers through her hair soothingly. "Haven't you ever thought about having a child?"

"Well, I guess but..." Abigail stuttered confusedly. It was all getting too much, but Niklas was actually making a point. "What if I die during the pregnancy?" Her eyes teared up at the thought of the possibility.

"At least we would have tried, knowing we did it for each other. Why don't we do it now?" Niklas' voice suddenly turned seductive and his right hand caressed her bare left thigh. "The sooner the better."

"Let's risk it now or never then." Abigail whispered and pulled him in for a kiss. She now felt more attached to him than ever. Actually, she had never been so attached to anyone. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and deepened the kiss. He moaned as he lowered his body on hers. Without waiting for an invitation, he took his member in his hand and slowly pushed it inside her. This time Abigail felt it more intense than she had felt it before. Sure, it was only sex before and no matter how hot and wild it was, it never felt as intense as this time. This time there was something else to it. "Niklas!" Abigail moaned as she felt him stretching her deeply. She took his face in her hands and kissed him passionately. Niklas moved in and out of her slowly.

"Oh, yes!" Kvarforth moaned as the girl scratched his back with her nails, drawing blood. Of course, this put a perverse smirk on his face and it turned him on even more. He slipped his tongue in her mouth again and gave her one of those kisses that made her moan like a school girl. Abigail bravely gripped his ass and smirked as this earned her a moan from him. Niklas felt the burning need to finally cum, so he picked up his pace to his usual insane speed. He buried his face in her neck and concentrated on reaching his orgasm.

"Are you going to cum for me, huh?" Abigail teased as she licked his earlobe. The only response she got was a loud groan. "Come on, Niklas. Cum inside me!" She encouraged him. Niklas gripped the sheets tightly as he froze and his mouth formed the shape of an "o". He made a few last thrusts in and out of her and laid his body down on her lifelessly.

"That's right, baby." Abigail whispered soothingly as she was caressing his back. The crucial moment had passed and now only time could tell if it was meant to be or not.

Niklas was back on tour and even though the road made him hateful and grumpy again, he was happy to have Abigail by his side. They were staying at a hotel and Abigail decided to take a pregnancy test. The test was positive and this brought tears to her eyes. She didn't know if those were tears of happiness or disappointment. She didn't know if she regretted her decision for the simple reason she wasn't sure if she was ready to be a mother, but she didn’t really have the luxury to wait in vain.

"Two red lines." Abigail announced blankly as she stared at the test, thinking Niklas was alone in the room. She lift her eyes up just to see Christian sitting beside him. "Oops."

"Congratulations then." Christian smiled.

"I don't know how I feel about that. I don't know if I'm happy or if I hate either you or myself." Niklas noted, turning to Christian.

"Hate me all you want, but I'm pretty sure you'll be thankful one day." The younger man stated cold-bloodedly.

"Niklas, come on, man. You've got an interview booked, remember?" Peter peeked through the door impatiently. Niklas sighed and threw his head back in frustration.

"Life is beautiful." He said sarcastically and with disgust as he rose to his feet. He ran a hand through Abigail's blood red hair and walked out of the room, leaving her alone with Christian.

"Ready to be a mother?" Christian teased.

"I don't know if I'll live to be a mother. In fact, I could die right here, right now and Niklas' baby would never see the light of day."

"Don't be like that. Those dark thoughts are like his, not like yours."

"I'm scared."

"You? You are never scared. You lived through a whole month with a mentally ill man who throws knives at you."

"A mentally ill man, who was almost nothing like he usually is. As I said some time ago he was really behaving and definitely wasn't that much of an asshole, which made me love the sick fuck even more." Abigail admitted with a confused smile.

"Love him? It must be difficult loving such a complicated person like Niklas Kvarforth himself." Christian replied a little blankly, as the key word the girl used cut him with a knife a little below the heart.

"It is. But you must know what it's like, since you seem to look up to him."

"I do. I still do, even though I've been in the way of fire many times. I guess it's about accepting him the way he is. Then it's easier living with him. I'm glad he seems more stable and much healthier than some time before."

"How do you feel about the idea you gave him, now that it's a fact?" Abigail asked curiously.

"I've got mixed feelings, just like both of you. Not in a bad way, it's just that it was just another shot that I willingly sent into the enemy's field, but I did it for both of you. Whether you liked my advice or not, that's both of yours' business. You’ve taken it anyway, so it’s late for regrets."

"Since I know stuff and I have noticed them and understand what you meant, I'm going to be straightforward with you. I'm not sure if it would have ever worked between us Chris. It's not that you're not my type or something. You're a cute, handsome, talented young man, but I guess my fuck up-ness matches that of Niklas. No matter how often you remind him that he is crazy, you too are in your own way and everybody appreciates that. I appreciate what you told him, despite it working against yourself."

"You don't need to explain, Abigail. I might be young, but I understand. As long as you keep Niklas running, I'm ok with everything."

"That's an honest thing to say." Abigail smiled.

"Don't worry about the motherhood thing. Whether he likes it or not, Niklas will help. And you'll definitely be a MILF." He smirked.

"That's encouraging, thank you." The girl giggled. "Now we drink!" She announced victoriously as she sharply rose to her feet.

"Now..." Christian also rose to his feet, standing at least a head above her. "We drink and you don't, because it's dangerous for the baby." He crossed his arms.

"That really turns the scales down, you know."

"It's a responsibility."

"Well, I'll give you a responsibility, alright."

"Don't get me wrong, I'll miss the drunk you too." The blond man snickered.

"You want something to remind you of the drunk me?" The girl said challengingly.

"How is that even a question?" He shrugged. Abigail grabbed him softly by the jaw and slipped her tongue in his mouth, kissing him deeply. "That's it. Unless you're in luck and Kvarforth is feeling kinky some time again."

Taking care of the unborn one wasn't an easy job, keeping in mind who its father was. Abigail often was about to give up, which brought her to her beloved bottle of whiskey. That would usually happen when Niklas' mood was such, that he regretted wanting a child. If he had been more aggressive with his words, Abigail would run for the bottle, as she was being sensitive for the first time in her life because of the pregnancy. This reaction of hers would make him soften up a little and he would make her drop the bottle. The rest of the guys from Shining made sure he behaved more than ever, as he could threaten two lives at once with his controversial behavior. Those were nine heavy months, but the crucial day was finally close.

Abigail was sent to the hospital for finally being in labor. She had never been so scared before. Niklas was in the studio with the guys when he received a call from the hospital. The moment he found out what the deal is, he got all tensed up and worried. The day had finally come. The guys wanted to be present too, besides they had to watch over him, as if he was a criminal.

"You're a soldier, you can do it!" Niklas encouraged his girl the only way he could as he was holding her hand.

"It hurts so bad!" Abigail screamed in pain at the top of her lungs.

"You have to breathe!" The nurse encouraged her.

"It hurts!" Abigail cried again.

"Now push!" The nurse commanded.

"I can't do this!" She cried as she gripped Niklas' hand tightly.

"Oh yes, you can!" Niklas said tensely through his clenched teeth. After all the difficulties, a healthy little girl was born. The crew showered the baby and gave it to it's mother.

"What do you want to name it, Niklas?" Abigail asked lifelessly as she took the little human she had suffered so much for in her hands.

"I want to name her after you - Abigail." Kvarforth stated. He had a confused smile on his face.

"Abigail it is then." The woman smiled as she looked down on her newborn daughter.

"Are you supposed to breastfeed her now?" Niklas smirked.

"Kvarforth!" Abigail's jaw dropped in surprise and disappointment.

They had to spend one night at the hospital. Niklas had to stay with Abigail, so the rest of the guys decided to stay with him. They were out in the corridor, drinking coffee, while he was sitting on a chair and watching Abigail sleep. He admired her silently. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and in them Niklas saw pain.

"Niklas..." The woman whispered as she looked at him with tortured eyes and she exhaled.

"Abigail?" Niklas said confusedly. When he didn't get an answer he panicked. He quickly rose to his feet and hovered over her. "Oh no, you can't fucking leave me right now!" He shook his head as he noticed she wasn't breathing. He tried a mouth to mouth breathing, but no matter how hard he tried it wouldn't work. "Abigail!" He screamed in his panic and the guys peeked through the door. "Find a doctor right now!" He ordered angrily and a minute later the doctor showed up with a nurse.

"What is going on?" The doctor asked, hovering over the lifeless woman.

"She's not breathing. I tried!" Niklas hissed through his teeth as he stepped back next to the guys. The doctor did what he could, but it was too late.

"I am sorry." The doctor exhaled as he stepped away.

"No, no, no!" Kvarforth shook his head in disbelief as he took the lifeless girl's face in his hands. "Abigail!" He screamed angrily in pain at the top of his lungs. First his mother not so long ago and now the only person in the world that he could say he loved. Both gone.

Needless to say, Niklas turned as dark as he was once. No light in the end of the tunnel, only two little candles - the memory of his dead Abigail and the little Abigail that had only him. At the funeral he got both drunk and high, but after getting a punch in the face from one of the guys, he came to his senses and realized he's got responsibilities as a father.

The only people attending the funeral were the prostitutes that had once sheltered her, the guys from Shining and the few stripper friends she had. Her parents weren't invited, because Niklas knew Abigail would rise from the dead simply to spit in their faces if they showed up. Yeah, he wished. After the funeral, the five of the guys were sitting in their official suits with glasses of whiskey in their hands and no sound could be heard.

"Now what?" Christian ruined the silence.

"The same old song with a new voice. Pain. All over again. But you were right, Chris." Niklas, the sick fuck, leaned back and ruffled the younger man's golden hair. "If it wasn't for sweet, little, helpless Abigail, who has nobody else but me, now I'd be dead-drunk, high as fuck and covered in prostitutes. Or the strippers that came to the funeral. Life goes on as painful as ever. If nothing else, then at least I'll have enough of inspiration to write enough material for two albums." He said blankly as he rested his elbows on his thighs and took a sip of his whiskey.

Sure, life went on, but everything was tasteless. The whiskey, the blood, the pain and suffering of others - none of his weaknesses could satisfy him anymore. Only the little Abigail was making him smile now and then. He promised upon her mother's grave to be a good father and he did his best, but without her guidance it still didn't seem enough, even though the little girl seemed to be feeling fine. He never thought he would suffer over something "as replacable as a woman" as he liked to say and yet there he was - suffering over a woman. An irreplaceable woman.

"No pleasure can be liken to you

And no conquer can be equated to you

No euphoria can be compared to you

And no love can ever replace you

Because without me you're nothing, you're nothing

And without you I'm nothing

But together we are everything" - Shining "Tillsammans Är Vi Allt"

#my fanfiction #fictionsaroundtheclock #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #han som hatar människan #han som hatar människan part 6 #Niklas Kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfic #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #niklas kvarforth ff #niklas kvarforth x ofc #ofc #kvarforth #shining #shining ff #shining fanfic #shining fanfiction

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 month ago

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Interview with the Vampire - A Vampire!Niklas Kvarforth/Reader One Shot Story.

Okay, besties! The first fic for my Vampire Soirée is here. And yeah, couldn't help myself with the title. Had to. Haha! Enjoy!

Words - 4,293

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“I really, really don’t want to do this.”

Your editor views you from across his desk with a mildly terse smirk. “I don’t care. You’re into the more extreme music, so therefore you get to interview him. You’re the natural choice, so go out there and get the job done.”

You know his word is final, nodding and moving from the small room that reeks of cheap coffee and your boss’s pungent body odour, returning to the main floor of the offices for the rock magazine you work for, slumping back down at your desk.

“Why me?” Indeed, why you. Likely, if you weren’t quite as revelling in acrimony, you’d see that your boss gave you the task of interviewing Niklas Kvarforth because he thinks you are nothing short of capable. You’d see the compliment in there, being trusted to secure something with the musician who is famed for either being extremely engaging with his interviewer – that is, if he likes them - or an absolute fucking nightmare if he doesn’t. It’s also very much dependent upon his mood, the amount of alcohol and drugs, or the lack of medication in his system, so you’ve garnered.

You decree right there and then not to meet him backstage, while he’d likely be revelling in the merriment of after show excess.

A few days pass, your flights booked, and an email received from Shining’s management, giving you a list of criteria you must meet in order for Niklas to be willing to meet with you. At least it won’t be after a show, which makes your insides relax a little. But it will be in a bar. Eeep.

Niklas will only meet the interviewer at night.

The interviewer is requested to come alone.

The interviewer is requested not to wear any strong perfume.

The interviewer is requested not to wear any items comprising of silver.

“Is he for real?” You mutter, thinking his demands to border on slightly diva-like. No silver or strong perfume? You wonder why, but then remember who you’re interviewing. He isn’t a run of the mill kind of person by any stretch of the imagination. A return email is sent confirming you will adhere to these requests, receiving the information on the exact time and location a short while later.

‘Tell the bar staff who you are there to see, and you will be shown to a private room.’

It feels ominous, but at 9pm on the date of the interview, feeling fresh from napping after your flight, you enter the bar and indeed tell the young man who greets you who you have a meeting with.

“Come with me, he’s waiting for you.”

You are escorted through the throngs of people, the bar itself not of modern build, everything carved wood, the smell earthy and rich. The noise begins to fade as you are led through two doorways out into a long, narrow room, bench seating flanking each wall, and a very tall man seated at a table in the far corner.

There sits Niklas Kvarforth, expectant, but unmoved by your arrival.

The energy of the room seems to radiate something you cannot quite put your finger on, but it emanates from him. It feels like both luminosity and a darkened abyss all at once, his eyes sharply focused upon you, your heart beginning to thunder rapidly. You’re unsure why, when he hasn’t even made a move, nor uttered a single word.

“Niklas,” you begin, recovering yourself, the bartender leaving. “Pleased to meet you, I’m...”

“I know who you are.” Extending a large hand, he gestures across the table. “Sit.” That voice. It’s a rumble of thunder, the growl of a bear, yet no matter how deep in baritone, he uses little in the way of volume to enunciate.

Taking a seat, you retrieve your phone from your bag and set it to record, placing it down upon the table. His eyes still haven’t left you, a burning blue stare, unblinking, unflinching, twinkling in the very low light of the room. He then reaches for the wine bottle at the side of the table, pouring out a glass and sliding it across the smooth wood.

“A two thousand and eighteen Merlot,” he begins, nodding at the glass. “I’m told it is a good year.”

Picking it up, you take a sip. It very much is. “A good guess, too. I like a nice, smooth red.”

The corner of his mouth twitches a fraction. “It wasn’t a guess. Social media provides a plethora of information to those wishing to seek it.” So, he found your Instagram, then. You should have known he’d probably research you prior to your meet. “But even if I had not, I would know you drank a glass not so long ago. Perhaps not of the same quality as this, but you did imbibe.”

You cock your head curiously. “How could you know that?”

“I can smell it on you.”

Your eyebrows pinch in slight frown. “That’s one hell of a keen sense of smell.” Taking another sip, the velvety liquid slides down your through, Niklas still studying you intently. “Are you not joining me in a glass?”

“It is, and no,” he begins, lacing his fingers together upon the table. “I don’t drink... wine, any longer.”

A curious response from a man who seems very much to enjoy a drop of anything alcoholic. More than a drop, in fact. “What’s your poison now?”

His eyes flit to the side of your neck momentarily, the rest of him remaining so still, it’s a little unnerving. “I have but one vice, driven out of necessity. It cannot be said I do not enjoy that necessity, though.” So, he’s choosing to be cryptic tonight. “Yes, I am being evasive on purpose, but you knew that I would be, didn’t you?”

A slightly sinister grin begins to widen his mouth, while you sit there and wonder how on earth he can seemingly read your thoughts so well. “The human face tells of exactly what ticks through the mind. In case you wondered.”

You know what he’s doing, attempting to unnerve you a little and likely use that to his advantage. Studying his interviews of the past, you’ve witnessed him do it before. He gets inside someone’s head through either unsettling or charming them. You would be lying if you said you did not wish for him to perhaps use a little of the latter, just for fun. Video footage and photographs do not do justice to how attractive the man is in the flesh.

A professional you may be, but who doesn’t enjoy being charmed a little by a fascinating, attractive musician? Still, you opt to at least attempt in playing your cards close to your chest.

“I didn’t,” you speak, and he laughs, a small burst of sound through his nose. He sees the hand you hold. Of course, he does.

“Yes, you did. Do not lie to me. I will see it.” Leaning forward slowly, his eyes fix upon yours again, pupils widening just a touch, your throat feeling tight. “Ask me your first question.”

Swallowing, you match his unblinking stare, drawing yourself up a little taller. “If you were one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, who would you be?”

He studies you intently, almost like he didn’t hear you for a moment. “She seats herself at my table and actually asks me something interesting.” His lips curl into a small smile, his index finger tracing over a knot in the wood upon the table. “A rarity these days, to not be questioned over the same mundane things I have given answers to a hundred times before.”

You made sure not to while compiling your questions, each of which you have memorised well in advance of this night. He looks to ponder it for a few seconds, glancing away from you momentarily before his eyes snap back. “Who do you think I embody the most?”

Your reply is immediate, without hesitation. “All of them.”

“Why?”

“Your music could be constituted as a war cry, famine you’d likely thrive upon from your well-documented enjoyment of human suffering, plague is perhaps akin to how Shining’s music has spread, and death is what fascinates you.”

He cocks his head a little, his smile growing. “I like you.”

Much better than being disliked by the man, you suppose. “Any specific reason?”

“You see me,” he begins, laughing a little darkly, “or at least, as much as I allow you to.” He contemplates his next words, his eyes not leaving yours. God, the intensity of his gaze. It's about as thrilling as it is genuinely terrifying and yet, you aren't at all sure why he scares you. There is something so very inexplicable about him, his aura, the way he sits in such eerie, almost unflinching stillness. He hasn’t even blinked yet. “I get the sense you shall not bore me. I would say to death, but I am there already.”

“Your fascination, yes?”

Another rumble of laughter sounds. “A certain curiosity, you could say.” Again, he leans a fraction close across the table. “Next question. Make it good.”

“If Shining’s music began in any other era, do you think it would have had the same impact, or do you feel it transcends the zeitgeist no matter what?”

Once more, he smiles. “I definitely like you.” Picking up the bottle, he tops up your glass. “Drink your wine, and I will talk.”

Oh, and talk he does, the interview feeling less like something of structure, and more like an in-depth conversation about everything. Life, death, music, art, triumph, suffering; you cover all bases together. He fascinates you even more than you first assumed he would, too, yet there is still something about him that you cannot put your finger on, and it’s bugging you.

“You still have questions you seek an answer for.”

There he is again, seemingly peering right into your mind. “I do, yeah. It feels like something that doesn’t have a definitive question, though. Does that make sense?”

Lifting his chin, he shrugs, ever so slightly. “If you’d been paying attention, you would probably have your answer by now. I have dropped some subtle hints, here and there.”

He playing with you, but you cannot pull yourself out of the fascination, of the thirst to know what it is about him exactly that makes him so different. Yet still, you struggle to form the actual question itself.

“If I’ve missed them, why don’t you just come out and tell me?” you ask, Niklas humming amusedly, reaching out to run a fingertip down your cheek. The room might be warm, yet his skin is stone cold.

“Where would the fun be in that?” Yep. He’s definitely playing with you for his own levity. It annoys you too, that you actually enjoy it. “Would you like for me to show you, the answer to the question you are yet to ask?”

You nod, swallowing hard, wondering what it is you’ll be shown. “How?”

“Meet me at the front of the bar.”

It’s close to closing time anyway, so with your curiosity piqued, you finish your wine and pick up your phone, turning the recording off. Placing it in your bag, you smile, turning to leave the room, moving back through the bar. Struggling to get past the group of people milling around the entrance, you finally push through, swinging the door open and there on the other side, seeing Niklas waiting for you.

How did he...

“Hello, again.”

“How on earth did you get past me?” you frown. Even if he’d left via a back exit to the bar, you would have noticed him walking the length of the building, with its floor to ceiling windows bordering it, in order to reach the front before you.

“I move very quickly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It’s... it isn’t possible, for you to have reached the front before I did. I would have noticed you. You’d need to move within the blink of an eye!”

He chuckles at your shrill tone. “Indeed, I would.”

You’re caught in his gaze again, shaking your head, your heart starting to hammer. Blinking rapidly, you gasp when suddenly, he’s vanished right before your eyes. A finger taps your shoulder.

“Hello, again.”

Spinning, you almost die of fright to see him behind you, your throat constricting. “Wh-what the fuck did you put in-in my dr-drink?” you stammer, perplexed to know what drug he’s obviously laced the wine with, making you hallucinate to this magnitude.

His eyes narrow, lifting his chin. “Nothing. You can trust what you see.”

“But, but,” you begin, pointing at him. “People cannot move that quickly.”

“Correct. Humans cannot, but I ceased being human a while ago.” He waits, watching as you try and piece it all together.

He requested you meet him at night only.

No silver jewellery.

Sharp sense of smell, hence now why you realise he insisted you not wear strong perfume.

He didn’t drink. Anything.

“I have but one vice, driven out of necessity.”

“I get the sense you shall not bore me. I would say to death, but I am there already.”

And he moves faster than your eye can detect. He cannot be, though! What your brain is suggesting, it isn’t feasible. It isn’t possible! It’s folklore, mere stories, because you cannot, you just can’t be standing right there in front of a vampire.

“I see the pieces have clicked into place. Finally,” he drawls, smirking a little. “Or do I need to give you exactly what you want to see?”

“I... I...” you breathe, your mouth dropping open.

He rolls his eyes, a little twitch of his top lip preceding two long, sharp fangs to pop out from his gums, a sight that makes you squeak as you clasp your hand over your mouth. “There. Convinced now?”

“Oh my... oh... fuck.” You should be terrified, and truly there is a slither of fear slicing right through your insides, but it’s overrode by a wash of curiosity, of wonder. There you are, standing in front of a real-life creature of the night.

You did wonder why Shining ceased playing at festivals in the daytime suddenly a few years before. Now you have your answer.

“I...” you begin, reaching towards his mouth. “Can I touch them? How sharp are they?”

It isn’t the reaction he was expecting, but your sheer wonder does amuse him on some level. “Feel for yourself.”

Your index finger prods against one of those pointed teeth, your skin broken immediately. It didn’t hurt, but it took you by enough surprise to pull your hand away, Niklas grasping your wrist and sucking your finger into his mouth.

“That Merlot tastes very good in your blood,” he speaks, finally releasing your finger from between his lips, eyeing you with radiating intent as you feel your body prickle with goosepimples, your nipples standing hard. All from having your fingertip in his mouth. Wow. “It’s making me hungry.” keeping hold of your hand, he moves his mouth to your wrist, tongue circling, pressing a kiss against where your pulse flutters madly. “May I?”

“You don’t strike me as the type to ask,” you quip, your body beginning to tremble, especially when he places a second kiss to your inner wrist.

“Although I love hunting down humans, scared blood tastes bitter. A willing donor is much more palatable.”

Nodding dumbly, the consent falls from your mouth before you’ve even processed it properly. “Okay, yes you can.”

Keeping hold of your hand, his other arm slides around you. “Not here.” His grip tightens and before you know it, he’s moved you within the blink of an eye to the alleyway that borders two buildings opposite the bar. Once again, he lifts your wrist to his mouth, the glint of his eyes like pale sapphires shining at you through the dark, another kiss placed before the burn of fangs pierces your flesh. It hurts, but god, the glimmers it drives through you, his mouth locked onto the wound strongly, sucking back your blood with a groan of pleasure.

Your insides virtually turn themselves inside out, hearing that.

Biting onto his own lip, he presses a bloodied kiss against the two puncture wounds in your wrist, the miraculous feeling of the wound closing making you feel completely spellbound as his blood heals you, his tongue working languidly over your flesh to lick it clean.

He licks his crimson lips, leaning down to you. “Thank you.”

You blink, and he’s gone, leaving you there breathless, perhaps even a touch deflated. He abandons you to the night, heart hammering, feeling awestruck, and that’s it? He’s just gone into the dark? He truly owes you nothing more, though. No explanation, no goodbye. Your interview was concluded, everything needed for your article to be written, leaving you only to steady yourself and call an Uber to return to your hotel.

It bothers you every single moment of the ride back there, all the questions you could have asked him, like when exactly he was made vampire, why he chose that, whether or not anybody else knows, and so, so much more. It also incenses you because of the burning ache deep within that his feeding on you left, yet to abate.

Do vampires still even have sex? Can they? They’re dead, so is desire still even a driving force within them, beyond that to feed?

All these questions and no big, handsome vampire there to answer them. Damn him.

Back at your hotel, you strip to your underwear, removing your makeup and cleaning your teeth before crawling beneath the covers. The bed linen is soft and crisply laundered, welcoming your body as you lie down and check your messages before turning off the bedside lamp. Sleep, as you soon discover, is a futile wish in light of what you now know, your brain buzzing, your body still humming from it all.

From him.

God, the way you felt as he fed upon you. It makes your nipples tighten just to remember it, your hands beginning to wander, knowing that unless you do something to sate the desire he stirred within you, you shall remain restless for the remainder of the night. With each sweeping caress, you imagine it is his cool hands exploring you, your arousal amping sharply, closing your eyes and seeing him there, imagining what it is to be pinned beneath him.

One hand clamps at your breast, the other wandering between your legs, slick anticipation waiting as you begin to stroke the petals of your sex with a soft moan, knowing the thoughts of him there with you in the bed will act as a suitably torrid fantasy for a time to come. Oh, if only... if only.

Tap, tap, tap.

Mildly annoyed by the disturbance, you frown towards the door, wondering why the hell you’re being disturbed at gone midnight, ignoring it at first. Your fingers continue their rhythmic stroking, your arousal once again blooming, sighing into the dark as you hope whoever is on the other side of the door simply has the wrong room.

Tap, tap, tap. This time louder than before.

Flinging the covers back, you huff, striding towards the door with a frown pinching your brows, looking through the small spy hole. Your heart almost crashes out of your chest, opening the door immediately, the tall form of the vampire who left you burning in your frustration looming over you as he steps inside the room.

“What are you doing here?”

He leans to you, two fingers running along either side of your jaw, tilting your head back. “Answering your call.”

“But I didn’t call you?” you speak, feeling like his presence is sucking the air from your lungs, the energy coming from him radiating with dark, swirling lust.

“No, you didn’t.” He leans to you, lips pressing a kiss against your neck, setting your blood to burn with the need for him, his hands grasping your bra to tear it open. “But your body did.” He lifts you with ease, and you wrap your legs around him, clutching his face in your hands as you lean, offering your mouth to his.

And fuck. The way he kisses you? He might be dead, but you feel like you’ve just been smacked in the chest with a live wire.

His mouth rains cold heat over you, placed upon the bed, Niklas looking down at you for a moment while his hands smooth over your skin. A sudden flurry of rapid movement renders him naked, your underwear torn from you, his hands parting your thighs to settle himself between them. You shiver at the feel of cold skin pressing against your warmth, your hands trailing over the dark blonde hair smattered over his wide, tattooed chest, his hand grasping your jaw to tip your head back, mouth closing in a kiss that evokes nothing but heat.

The sound he makes while delighting your throat with such attention is all beast, a primal, rattling growl, eerie and inhuman. You know you should be unsettled, fear the fact that you have what you now understand to be the greatest apex predator on earth between your legs, but oh, no. Fear is the furthest thing you experience beneath him, desire cording through you as his mouth scatters kisses steeped in blinding sensuality over every inch of your body, descending, tongue running up your thigh as he stares up at you.

His eyes close, long, dark blonde lashes concealing the blue fire within, mouth reaching your aching slit finally, his tongue diving in with hunger. The flush of pleasure is immediate, evoked by long, dragging licks, his groans still gravelled in predatory grit. The tip of his tongue seeks your clit, flicking gently to begin, sucking, taking the contact away to make you keen, returning it with a driving beat that sends embers skittering up your spine.

He consumes you carnivorously, nothing gentle about the way his mouth rains utter ruin upon you, your back arched like the bend in a riverbank as you gasp and cry out. The way he moves his tongue against your bud is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, quickening, until it moves at an unnatural speed; for a human, at least. He isn’t one, though.

“Oh shit, oh!” you wail, clutching his head, your nails digging in. “Fuck, that’s incredible! How the fuck can you move your tongue so fucking quickly?”

He rumbles an amused chuckle, sucking on you again. “You’ve seen how fast I move. That extends to all of me.” More rapid flickers follow, speedy, wet heat driving you to the place of complete nirvana, coming hard as the dew of your orgasm floods his tongue.

You’re suddenly moved, faster than you can comprehend, finding yourself astride him, Niklas steering his cock to your streaming cunt, a hand clutching your neck as he pulls you down onto it, every last inch slipping in with ease. “And if you think the way I ate you was quick, just wait until you see the speed I’m going to bounce you on my cock.”

One hand remains upon your neck, the other splayed on your back as he clasps you to him tightly, moving steadily to begin with, staring at you with burning desire, his fangs shooting out as he groans, all hellfire and sin. “Fuck, you feel good, little human.”

He kisses you, your lips and tongue scratched by the sharp of his teeth, kisses all burning sanguine and dark lust, his growl making your skin prickle with goosepimples. The rolling rhythm of it sends lightning darting up your spine, his mouth moving to your throat, kisses pressed, the accompanying graze of fangs making your nipples furl tight, the pain of him suddenly biting into your neck sending a neon blaze to glimmer through the very blood he drinks upon thirstily.

Oh, how scintillating the pleasure, to be fucked and fed upon by the predator between your legs at the same time, his body beginning to move up beneath you rapidly, both arms clasping around you, the grip strong, his mouth licking the blood trails left behind as you cry out at every deep, quick punch of his thick cock.

He literally throws you around the room thereafter, holding you by your throat to the bed, fucking you so quickly, you feel he’s about to go through you, moving you in a blink until you’re backed against a wall, clutching around him as he drives into you like a piston.

How it is to fuck a creature who doesn’t get tired.

It’s an inferno of celestial bonfire each time he makes you come for him, your body sweaty, blood streaked and exhausted by the time he finally forces his cock into your mouth, a cold jet of cum trickling down your throat.

You’re still floating far from yourself when you see him move rapidly, dressed once more in a blink, Niklas winking before in the next second, he’s vanished.

At least he left you nothing short of satisfied this time.

Upon checking out the following morning, the woman at the front desk hands an envelope to you, once which you wait until you’re in the Uber heading to the airport to read.

It should go without saying that you do not breathe a word over what I am to anyone. If you do, the next time I fuck you, you shan’t survive it.

I’d like you to survive it.

Yes. That part of your night with him definitely won’t be going to print, lest you never experience it again.

A/N - Did you enjoy it? Please be sure to let me know what you thought and give me a reblog. It goes a long way, guys!

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining #shining band #ddd vampire soire #black metal

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 month ago

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Make me Bleed - A Niklas Kvarforth/Reader Smut Short.

Daddy Kvarforth got me feeling a certain way. Because, well, look at him. I needn't say more.

Words - 650

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He rocks into the cradle of your hips, the sensation of him rooting himself deeply causing tiny storms to fracture beneath your skin, sweat slick and hot as he looks down at you. His eyes are ablaze, something dangerous mingled with white hot lust, a deep baritone gravelling his throat as he kisses you with heat, big hands slid beneath your shoulders, gripping, making you take the full brunt of him.

And taking Niklas within you is like attempting to negotiate ones footing in a hurricane. You can only ever go with him, not battle against.

Your legs wind around him, the tilt of your pelvis sending him deeper, your walls fluttering as he scrapes sparks against them, your fingers delighting his spine in a clawed touch that evokes nothing but tingles.

“Harder,” he rasps, drinking the moment in, his body twitching in spasm. “Make me bleed.”

The sharp of your nails lacerate, and his muscles quiver, his back opened on sensual daggers as you drag red over his skin. The moan it pulls from him sends your blood sparking, clawing him harder, a wildcat branding that sends him into the clutch of your cunt so hard, you can barely take the onslaught. But fuck, it feels good. Too good.

His skin becomes slicked with a pink marble of sweat bleeding into sanguine, a canvas of brutal want etched over his back, his teeth sharp at your jaw, tongue running over the purple welt before branding your neck, grunting almost animalistically as he feels you tightening around him. The slick grasp of you has him mindless, lost to you, the throb of pleasure mingling with the sharp stinging upon his skin, a heady rush that chases itself over his flesh and down to his very marrow, railing you into the bed.

It creeps over you, skitters through each corded muscle, your wails shrill as you cry out his name, the voracity of his fuck driving a blaze of neon to burst through you, the thick of his cock making you shatter to pieces beneath him. One last scraping swipe of your nails down the length of his back has him pounding out each rolling wave of his release, body slowing until he stills, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk.

“I like the way my name sounds when you scream it.”

Tickling his lips with your tongue, he bites it, sucking hard, sharing kisses of filthy indulgence with you before you can reply. “I like the way your skin feels when my nails rip it to pieces.”

He isn’t quite sure what feels better; you clawing him to tatters, or the sight of you licking his blood from your fingers in the aftermath. Either way, he’ll demand you do it to him all over again.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #niklas kvarforth smut #shining #shining band #black metal

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darklydeliciousdesires · 14 days ago

Text

New story announcement!

So yes, started this one recently, another story for a fandom of likely no more than two people, lmao! I'm open to be surprised, though :D

So, what happens when two people as fucked up as one another meet? Nothing good. If you're looking for a happy ending, you're in the wrong place, but the ride will be fun nonetheless. Introducing my OC Taissa and the object of her desires, Mr. Niklas Kvarforth...

A little teaser...

He chuckled deep in his throat, a low, predatory rumble, eyes glinting. “Little girl, unless you like being burned, don’t play with fire.”

Of course, she had an answer for him, her face nearing his once more, just enough to make him yearn for it, crave the kiss she wouldn’t grant. “Niklas, please. I am the fire.”

Turning, she left him there feeling like his blood was scorching a rapid trajectory through his veins, heartbeat thundering in his ears as she whistled sharply, holding her hand out to hail a passing taxi. She jumped in without looking back once, gone into the night, leaving her target there exactly how she desired him to be. Frustrated.

Burn Bright White is arriving soon! Interested? Hit me up to be added to the taglist. So far it's only @erbodd and @danzer8705

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining #shining band #black metal #dsbm

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darklydeliciousdesires · 11 days ago

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Burn Bright White - A Niklas Kvarforth/OC Story.

It has begun, besties! Please remember, if you like it, reblog it. You've no idea how important that part is to me, and yes, a little comment wouldn't go amiss either. I love to hear that my readers have enjoyed it!

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,464

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don't like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn't tolerated here. At all. Remember, it's fiction, not a documentary ;) It's also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

He felt his hand begin to itch, a figurative followed by physical manifestation, holding his phone in a loose grasp while unlocking the screen. Two seconds passed and he locked it again. Unlock. Lock. Unlock. Lock. Old habits die hard.

Learning how to be anything different to who he always had wouldn’t come easily to him, and Niklas knew this intrinsically. The two sides within him at constant war with each other would continue that violent clash unless he fought harder, though.

“I’m trying to be a better person.”

His therapist had told him the more he spoke it aloud, the more the notion might sink in. He still scoffed at it, at himself. He heard exactly how it sounded, and it nauseated him without fail every time. How was somebody with as many demons dancing around his brain supposed to truly better themselves? Did he even really want to?

“Yes. Yes, you do.” He wasn’t about to become something he wasn’t, a faded photocopy of the Niklas Kvarforth he’d been for so many years, whether that be by his own desire, mental illness, or what he’d armoured himself with in order to survive.

He could, however, become someone a little more mentally sound and fundamentally still remain who he was. Not blacking out or having schizophrenic hallucinations was his primary goal, gladly now achieved thanks to the correct treatment.

Indeed, he was certainly feeling clearer for his recent self-imposed stay within a mental facility, a carefully balanced cocktail of drugs alleviating his cerebral distress. It was the ones which couldn’t be sought from across the counter of a pharmacy that he knew he’d struggle most with, though. Hence the itchy hand.

The rush of thousands of neurons racing at a billion miles an hour, pleasure receptors tickled by Bolivia’s finest marching powder was what he craved, now he was free to simply dial a number and have it delivered to his door within the hour. Unlock. Lock. Unlock. Lock... Unlock.

“Ahh, so you’re alive, then?”

He half smiled at Miika’s assertion. “Apparently.” He certainly didn’t feel it. A half existence, no drugs, no fun, no hedonism in the excess he revelled in. But at least his brain didn’t feel like it was trying to drown him in morosity. Or worse. Woo fucking hoo.

“Usual?” An eighth of blow, always. He never deviated. Miika was only surprised his septum hadn’t by now, such was the depth of his habit.

“Yeah.”

“Within the hour.” The call ended, Niklas throwing his phone down at his side, lacing his fingers behind his freshly shaven head as he leaned back on the sofa, frowning at himself. Weakness. He couldn’t even be free of hospital for seventy-two hours without needing to call his dealer. Cocaine would very likely fuck up the tentative balance he’d actually put effort into achieving, but the side of him that courted chaos didn’t much care for that.

Blow was an alluring mistress in that respect, and she always would be. At least weakness would lead to something that felt better than the monotony of an even keel, mentally speaking.

“You must seek a path to finding your pleasure elsewhere, outside of the endless stream of narcotics and excess, Niklas.”

Those trite words spoken by his therapist echoed around his head, his brow creasing slightly. Everything else mostly bored him to death. Naturally, his thoughts went straight to another pastime.

He could simply distract himself with a woman, he certainly knew where to go to have one throw themself at him within minutes, with him having to do nothing more in way of effort other than show up. An easy lay. Oh, how boring they’d become to him, though. Securing a willing woman to bounce on his cock for the evening held no thrill beyond the act itself. They were all so banal. Square one loomed large.

After zoning out for about half an hour, his long form hauled itself from the sofa with a grunt. A nearby Katze paused in her paw grooming to study her person, Niklas receiving her head thudding against his palm as he reached for her. Moving to the kitchen, he put on some music along the way, then poured a very large drink.

Incredibly, he was fine to do so on his current medication, but had been strictly instructed that it didn’t give him a free pass to teeter into excess. So far, he’d actually been quite reserved. One the day before, two the day before that, a pleasant buzz tingling through his blood now that a few months of sobriety had vastly lowered his tolerance.

Mind you, a Niklas-sized measure of alcohol was much, much larger than that of any average person. Unless the tumbler was half full, what the fuck was the point?

A curt, yet sharp knock sounded the front door on his way back to the lounge, Niklas veering off course to go and let Miika in. Upon opening the door, though, it was not the burly strawberry blonde drug dealer he found upon the other side.

It took him a few seconds to form words, so startled he was by the sight before him. Sexy just did not fucking cut it at all. “And you are?”

Of course, he was expecting her brother. Miika had warned his younger sister that Niklas could sometimes be difficult. He’d also asserted that he’d likely come onto her, but then again, most people did. Besides, it was nothing Taissa couldn’t handle, and her brother knew this well. Hence why he’d asked her to cover the drop.

“Waiting to be let in.” He still didn’t move, the tall man merely standing there with his eyes roving her unabashedly. She was used to it, Taissa sighing. It took little for her patience to wear thin. “Miika sent me.”

At that, he swung the door open far enough for her to walk through it, the tall, lithe blonde striding through, Niklas feeling his pulse begin to quicken at the swing of her hips. His dark lord below... that was one hell of an attractive woman.

She looked like a porcelain doll, with her hair gleaming, pale blue eyes, tits that were definitely too big to be hers by nature, and lord, that ass. Those legs. Those legs in those stiletto heeled, knee high boots, too, once of which she unceremoniously lifted to rest on the hallway table, unzipping the boot and pulling out a bag before fastening it back up again with a swift tug.

All he could imagine was how those heels would feel digging into his ass while he piledrived her against a wall. Yes. He could definitely go in for some of that.

“Stay for a drink and a line?” he offered, his eyes once again touring her appreciatively.

“No,” she spoke firmly, holding up the baggie between her index and middle finger, her glossed pout gleaming in the bright light of his hallway. “Money.”

He lowered his head, staring from under furrowed brows. “You’re rude.” His assertion seemed less offended and more amused, though. Offense wasn’t triggered easily within him.

“I’m busy,” she huffed, looking agitated. “Stop fucking me with your eyes and pay up.”

He almost laughed at that. She was acerbic, she had bite. He liked it. “What if I fucked you with my tongue instead?”

Taissa would be lying if she’d stated her insides hadn’t pinched pleasantly at hearing a man that attractive offer such, but her facade didn’t falter. “As I stated, I’m busy. I want my fucking money. Now.”

Oh, she was something else, Niklas smiling despite himself as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the required cash, offering it forth. She sauntered to him slowly, all feline glide, except hers was less housecat and more panther, taking the assortment of notes and handing him the bag.

Giving herself a moment, she let her eyes wander. He was thick without being massively out of shape or overly muscular, very tall, liberally smattered in tattoos, and god, he smelled good.

“For someone who’s busy, you like to linger,” he noted, the air around them seeming to crackle as they became drunk in the pull of one another’s intense, unflinching stare.

“Can’t be helped,” she spoke, her eyes flitting to his mouth, her fingernail trailing down over the side of his neck, setting his skin to quiver. “Your beard is just the right length to really enjoy riding your face.”

Hooking her finger beneath the thick, silver curb chain around his neck, she yanked him close, her mint-scented breath fluttering against his lips, turning her head to place a bite upon his jaw. “Maybe next time, big guy. If you work for it hard enough.”

She breezed out of the apartment just as rapidly as she’d entered it, leaving Niklas standing there with his cock pressing painfully against the front of his jeans. He’d never ran after a woman in his entire life, but fuck, the urge to at least power walk after the enchanting blonde was a tough one to fight.

The only enchantress he was to have a dalliance with that night was the cocaine in his hand, though, of which he truly couldn’t get up his nose fast enough. This then left him with somewhat of a quandary; he was high as hell, and only had Katze for company. No. That wouldn’t do.

Picking up his phone, he called the only other constant in his life, his friend Bjorn, a fellow native of Sweden he’d met a few years ago after he’d done some digital artwork for Shining. He was a good time, unpretentious, and could keep up with Nikas’s heady excess. The perfect partner in crime.

Except, that was, when he actually answered his phone.

“Pick up, you fucking cunt,” he spoke tersely, aggravated. “Pick up!” He wasn’t about to be defeated quite so easily, though. Just because he didn’t answer the first time...

Four more attempts over the space of ten minutes where what finally pissed Bjorn Nilsson off enough to grab his phone from the table.

“What, Kvarforth?” he demanded, sounding somewhat irate.

“Nice to hear your voice too, darling,” Niklas teased, lighting a cigarette. “I have an eighth of blow and the urge to go drinking. You coming?”

He fucking would have been, had his friend quit in persisting to repeatedly call. “Nah, man. I’ve got company. Company who has my dick in her mouth right now.”

Niklas rumbled a chuckle. “Answering while you’re getting blown? Either she can’t be that good, or you just wanna hear my voice so you can come faster.”

Bjorn couldn’t keep his laughter in. “Don’t play with me, daddy.”

“So, are you coming out, or what?” He didn’t immediately reply, making a noise that sounded halfway between a groan and a thoughtful hum. “Out of ten, what is she?”

“Six?”

His eyes widened a fraction. “A six? You’re contemplating over a six?” How fucking rude of him. “C’mon, you can come out with me and score a ten. Lose the chick and meet me here in a half hour.”

He made a point, Bjron supposed. “Alright, see you then.” Needless to say, the girl he was with didn’t hang around for long enough for him to come, insulted at his casual rebuff of her efforts. True to his word, though, just under half an hour later the front door was hammered upon by the pounding of two hands.

“There’d better be a fat line in there with my name on it, you fucking sexy, bald bastard.”

Fuck, he’d missed him, Niklas grabbing his face and kissing his forehead. “Of course. Get the fuck in, brother.”

True to form, Bjorn had snorted one of the two prepared lines before Niklas had even arrived back in the lounge, wiping his nose as he sniffed heavily. Ahhh, quality blow. His friend never scored anything less. “So, rehab worked out well for you, eh?”

As always, Bjorn was a sarcastic fuck. “It wasn’t rehab, and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Rehab, mental hospital. Same difference. No fun,” he chimed, waving his hand dismissively. “You feeling better though? No more blacking out and seeing shit that isn’t there?”

“None of that,” he confirmed, sinking his bourbon and pouring another, a measure for Bjorn too before grabbing the rolled-up note and snorting the remaining line of coke upon the coffee table. “Which is exactly what I wanted, to get that fucking bullshit under control.”

“And the being a better person pledge?”

Niklas side eyed him, lighting a cigarette. “I can be better and still enjoy myself, brother. Despite what my fucking therapist states. ‘Find your pleasure outside of narcotics and excess’, she said. Blah, blah, blah.”

Bjorn raised an eyebrow, Niklas continuing. “I’m fucking great now the psychosis is under control. Plus, I’m only really a massive fucking asshole when I get completely wasted, so I won’t. See? Better person.”

“Remains to be seen,” he grinned, earning a glare he cracked up at. “Oh, fuck off. I love you either way, man.”

“You’re probably the only person who does. Drink up.”

Bjorn looked mildly incredulous. “Hey, can you let me have my high hit me properly first?”

“No. I want tequila and pussy. Stop being a bitch and hurry up, and trust me, if I can’t find anything decent regarding the latter, I’m banging you.”

“Tease,” he snickered, picking up his drink and sinking it in one. “Alright, let’s go. I’m choosing the location, though.”

“Fuck, no,” Niklas snorted, “you’ll have me in some fucking metal club. Nah. Not happening.” If he went anywhere beyond a late close bar, it was usually an underground hip hop club, or the Bandidos clubhouse. It was too much like taking his work home with him, frequenting a place where he’d be instantly recognised. Then again, the women there... the fucking women. Little effort, instant reward.

It would be fair to say his hallway dalliance with the pneumatic, drug dealing blonde earlier had left him feeling somewhat restless there.

“Where?”

“Could you roll your eyes any higher, Kvarforth?”

“Yes. Now, where?”

“Roadhouse?” It was perhaps the biggest metal club in Tampere, the most obnoxiously loud and the least favourite of Niklas’s. Bjorn, however, loved it. Mainly because it was a meat market and the drinks were cheap.

Well, if there was any other reason to go beyond scantily clad women and reasonably priced booze, he was yet to discover it. He would, though, for he had no idea that as he and Bjorn left his apartment, they were followed for the duration of the fifteen-minute Uber ride across the city.

Yes. When Taissa Aho set her sights upon something she wanted, she went to great lengths to ensnare it.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining band #black metal #metal guys

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darklydeliciousdesires · 7 days ago

Text

Burn Bright White - Chapter Three.

Oh, okay then. Have another update. Big thanks to my beautiful Diana and Lindsey for offering their commentary. I do this for you both!

Previous Chapters - One Two

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,844

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

“Your boyfriend called. He wants another eighth. I’m all out until we collect, have you got anything?”

Taissa and her brother worked under the same enterprise, her heading things in Helsinki usually, and him in Tampere. She travelled between the cities fairly frequently, having a residence in both. When she wasn’t staying in one, the other was rented out through Airbnb.

Never let it be said she wasn’t enterprising. Both legitimately and criminally.

If anything, Miika more worked for her than the other way around, his sister supplying him as well as a few other family members dotted around Finland. If there was a kingpin within the Aho family, it was definitely her.

“I can feel that frown, you know.”

Of course, and it was well-earned, referring to the man who she’d told him had indeed come onto her as her boyfriend. Her brother couldn’t help himself, though. He enjoyed getting a rise out of her. “I bet he’s wondering where you’ve vanished to, since I’ve been dropping his deals round for the last two weeks.”

Well, she had said work harder, and she supposed he had been at the rate he’d been purchasing cocaine and speed from them. The truth was, Niklas was barely denting them with his usual regularity; he was only being persistent in his purchases because he wanted to see her.

And fuck, how she wanted to see him. Game playing and teasing aside, it had taken all the resolve she could muster, every last drop of it, to have walked away from him outside of the club. She knew a big dick bulge when she felt it, craving ever since to be pinned beneath the weight of the man it was attached to and fucked within an inch of her sanity.

Still, the payoff would be worth the wait. If only she knew, though, how heavily he desired her, from just one evening so briefly in her company.

“I have a couple left, tell him yes,” she spoke, opening her car window wider and lighting a cigarette. “Don’t tell him it’s me dropping off, though.”

Miika snorted softly, shaking his head. “What game are you playing with this man, sis? You do know what you’re getting yourself in for, don’t you? Guy’s a fucking whacko. I mean it.” Pausing, he lit a joint, inhaling deeply. “He’s worse than you.”

Charming. “Fuck you.”

“Thinking you’re hot shit because you’re a sociopath,” he teased, feeling his sister’s ire radiating, even over the telephone. “No, to be serious, he’s a bipolar schizophrenic. He isn’t your average run of the mill coke head.”

No, he absolutely wasn’t. “I can handle him.”

“It’s you fucking handling him that worries me,” her brother scoffed, Taissa rolling her eyes.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she spoke firmly.

Oh, the mistake he’d made in asking her to do him a favour, sending her straight into the firing line of a man he knew she’d take an interest in. A mentally volatile one at that. “Again, this is what worries me, Tai.”

If there was one person she truly adored in this world, it was her brother. He was her best friend, too, one of three people she would genuinely move mountains for. Miika, his girlfriend Carla and her father were they. Others meant little to her, Taissa not being particularly gregarious beyond using people for what she could get out of them. It would be very fair to say her misanthropic streak ran deep.

It was, after all, the hallmark of sociopathy.

“I’ll be fine. I have some things to do, so tell him within three hours.” Her things to do consisted of getting her hair blow dried straight with a treatment, going shoe shopping and having a massage.

With the shoe shopping, she spoiled herself with the pair of open toed, spiked heeled leopard print platforms she’d been eyeing for a while, and with the massage, she definitely imagined Niklas’s hands running in a firm, oily glide over her limbs instead of the man who actually worked all of her tension out. She left feeling a lot more relaxed, except in one specific place, having fantasised about the big, tattooed brute she was en route to throughout the duration, of course.

Calming herself down proved tricky, since it had been a few weeks since she’d last had a man between her legs, Taissa knowing that if she was a slave to anything, it was her own rampant libido. She also knew that when she was ovulating, her desire went through the fucking roof, as she was right then.

She had two courses of action. Plan A, mercilessly tease him some more, then go home and set about herself with a few of her favourite sex toys to satiate her need, or plan B. Fuck him, fuck him so well that he’d never cease to crave her, and then withdraw until he was virtually on his knees begging her to fuck him again.

Both had their appeal, and no matter which she chose, she’d still remain in control. Also, a fun idea how to further play with him entered her head on the drive over, giggling to herself as she imagined the way he would react to a little game of hide and seek.

Pulling up outside, she went about putting her plan into action, her casual flip flops exchanged for the high heels that would boost her diminutive height considerably. The thrill of it hummed through her as she left the car and entered the apartment block, smiling, hardly able to contain herself. This? This was going to be glorious...

It was a good job that Niklas’s bathroom was right by the front door, because between the blare of music filtering through his apartment and the noise of the shower he was taking, he wouldn’t have heard the loud knocking upon his door.

“Alright, fuck!” he yelled, the door being rapped with speedy knuckles once more as he secured a towel around his waist and headed out to let Miika in. Only it wasn’t the elder of the Aho offspring waiting on the other side.

“Oh, look,” she purred, eyeing him up and down, her insides radiating in bright burn at the sight. “You’re all wet.” Ducking under his arm, she drifted into the apartment, Niklas experiencing the usual at seeing her, his heartbeat accelerating in an instant. She might have looked quite casual in the long, dark grey cotton dress she wore, but how it hugged every curve so very pleasingly.

He could barely keep his mouth from broadening as he closed the door, wiping the grin from his face as he turned to her. “As you can see, I have no cash on me. Wait a second, it’s in my jeans.”

“Before you get it,” she began, reaching to halt him, steering him back to face her, hormones going into overdrive at how very nearly naked he was. She didn’t like overly muscular guys at all. Give her a tall man with thickness and a bit of a tummy any day, and she would eat him alive. “Would you like your cocaine first?”

He raised a questioning eyebrow. “I thought it was cash first with you?”

Placing her keys and phone down on the hallway table, she backed away, resting her hands to her hips, cocking her head. “I know you’re good for it. You want your cocaine? Come find it. It’s... somewhere upon my person.”

Little minx. Lifting his chin, he walked to her, eyes burning blue fire as his finger slid beneath the strap of her dress. “You realise this means a thorough examination?”

She nodded.

“That I will have to slowly take off all of your clothes to find it?”

Her tongue flicked between her lips, and it set his insides ablaze. “I’m counting on it.”

He couldn’t tell whether this was her about to give him the green light to fuck her, or more of the game she’d been playing since they’d first met, but fuck, if that wasn’t the goddamned thrill of it. Taking the other strap of her dress, he carefully lowered them, the uncovering of her body undertaken slowly, as if unwrapping a gift in order to savour the joy of revelation a little longer.

He could feel his cock begin to harden as he lowered the dress further, her tits pushed together by a black bra he could have ripped from her with his teeth, had he not been enjoying the slow seduction quite as much as he was. A simple tug over her hips had the dress pooling at her ankles, Taissa stepping from it, biting the corner of her lip.

How he held himself back from flattening her against the nearest wall, he didn’t know. Fuck, she was perfect.

Seeing her, such alluring, feminine beauty, he wondered for a second what the fuck a woman so stunning saw in someone like him. He’d professed quite openly that he didn’t know what it was that women saw in him, despite his blunt confidence around them exuding very much to the contrary. The desire that danced through her eyes like a storm upon the sea knocked such thoughts from his head, though, the palpable weight of her want boring into him through such a beautiful gaze.

His hand slid to her back, his heart crashing against his ribcage like a war drum, easily flicking the fastening of her bra undone between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it away to reveal a set of tits he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into. There was no cocaine to be found within, even though he’d almost forgotten that was what he was searching for to begin with.

Standing there, welded to the spot by the weight of his gaze, she had to hold back from wrapping herself around him, feeling her insides beginning to throb and tingle almost aggressively with arousal. Her muscles corded, her breath catching in her throat at the sensation of his fingers slowly trailing down her body, over her sternum and abdomen, slipping into the small, black thong she wore.

Grasping the bag of contraband between his fingers, he pulled it out, placing it on the table beside her phone. That’s where she should have simply stepped back, pulled her dress on and demanded her money, but fuck. She couldn’t.

The bind he had her in was not one she could extract herself from, being that close to him, both barely dressed, his hand slowly delving back into her underwear. He leaned to her, tongue dragging a slow lick up the side of her neck, pressing a kiss much softer than she’d expected, his fingers roaming into the soft dew of her slit.

Feeling how wet she was, his arm muscles tensed in appreciation, a shuddered breath fluttering against her neck, another kiss placed, followed by another. He paused only to grasp her thong, snapping the thin material with a tug, sending shockwaves through her.

When his fingertips began to glide in a slow, soft stroke over her clit, her legs almost gave way, his other hand moving to splay at the small of her back, clasping her so she didn’t fall.

“Mmhm,” he hummed, tongue flicking teasingly just below her ear. “I know exactly what to do with a woman’s body.”

The need to exert dominance, return to driving the situation rather than playing passenger to her roaring yearning, she realised, wasn’t anywhere near as strong as her need for him. She’d have perhaps experienced some sort of dismay at that too, had she not been so blindingly turned on.

Clutching his chest in a vain hope to steady herself brought no such bracing, only pulling her further into the fire. It was caustic, the heat of his damp skin, the way the soft, dark blonde hairs felt beneath her palms as it heaved with laboured breaths. Sometimes, she supposed, the alchemy between two bodies longing for the other was just too hazardous a mix to extract from, turning her head, their mouths finally meeting in a hungry clash.

It was a carnivorous display of feral longing, Niklas grasping her waist and lifting her easily, her dainty form wrapping around him as he backed her against the wall, her hand reaching for the only thing that still divided them. The towel fell, her fingers curling around his cock, guiding it to where she streamed for him, slick and hot cut through by the kind of thickness that knocked the breath from her lungs as he filled her. Fuck... oh, fuck, he felt so good.

There was no finesse to it, her insides assaulted by a mindless sexual battering, but god, if that wasn’t exactly what she needed; to simply be fucked...and fucked hard. Wailing against the onslaught of his mouth as they shared dirty, messy kisses, she was bowled over completely by the power of his fuck, given no choice but to submit to it.

The sound of her helpless cries spurred him further, pounding her against the smooth, white painted wall, pulling his mouth from hers and grinning almost sinisterly. “Yeah, that’s what you get, making me wait for two weeks to be inside you.”

Pulling her away, his hand met her ass in a series of hard, unyielding spanks, the noise echoing off the wall he then forcefully drove her back against, burying his mouth at the side of her neck, his hands clutched hard beneath her slender thighs. The feel of her heels digging into his ass as he railed her only spurred him further, made him mindless, the electric connection between them sparking bright.

The lewd sound of him driving into her again and again filled the air, his moans deep, barbarous, Taissa’s grip around his shoulders slackening, her nails digging into the thick of his wide back and shredding his tattooed flesh. God, the man could fuck.

It was beyond feral, an all-out display of carnage, her body banging against the wall as she gripped on around him tightly, more scratches added to his skin, the pain of it causing dark heat to mist through him. It drove him headlong into the abyss, tongue touring her throat, biting her, groaning like a beast.

Mmm, yes. That was the very word she’d choose to describe him, could she even form coherent thought.

The hot girth of his cock stretched her tender walls, the glide through the soaking mess of her sending heat roaring up her spine, the grind of his body against hers flushing glimmers to burst through her. It was nothing but frantically delivered sexual energy, fucked wildly, embers glowing as their bodies charged to the peak of it.

Taissa topped first, her hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure shimmered right to her marrow, her fluttering cunt pulling his own release from him so hard, he felt like he was about to pass out as he came deep within the viscid clench of her. Biting her neck, he growled it out as he fucked every wave into her, his orgasm burning bright white, light headed bliss ensnaring him.

His entire body tingled, hers shaking uncontrollably, Niklas falling back and hitting the hallway floor with a thud, his legs unable to keep him upright after coming so hard, he barely remembered his own name. It had been a while, since he’d had sex that earth shattering, feeling like he was floating adrift of himself.

He was so mentally shattered from it that he barely even noticed her heave herself up on shaky legs, pull her clothes back on at speed and exit his apartment without word, Taissa colliding with the hallway walls as she tried to walk in a straight line. She was more like a foal on brand new, juddering legs, reaching the elevator and hitting the button, her chest still heaving in aftermath of what could only be described as cataclysmic sex.

Staggering in as soon as the doors opened with a smooth whoosh, she gripped the rail, but it did little to prevent her from collapsing, her entire body shaking like a live current had been passed through every muscle, every nerve.

“Fucking hell.” she panted. She’d gauged that he’d give her nothing short of brutality, the kind of sexual bludgeoning that would leave her feeling nothing short of satisfied, but truly, what they’d shared had gone way beyond that. No man had ever literally fucked her so thoroughly that she could barely walk. If that was what he could do to her in the space of five minutes...

While she hauled herself up off the elevator floor, Nikas remained on his back in the hallway, beyond dazed, still shuddering pleasantly. He’d get up eventually. Maybe when he didn’t feel like he’d just been hit by a tornado.

Laughing to himself, he realised it then. He still didn’t even know the tornado’s name, but fuck, how he knew he’d happily let her whirl around him again, any time she wanted to.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining band #shining #black metal #metal guys

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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 days ago

Text

Burn Bright White - Chapter Four.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,762

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

Weed, ganja, chronic, herb, puff, whatever you wanted to call it. Taissa rarely smoked it, but when needs must. Truly, she needed a little mental steadying, her drive home perilous, her body still wracked with trembles. That, and a rapidly trickling deposit of cum wetting her inner thighs, too.

She almost hated him a little bit for being such a good fuck.

It was she who was meant to hook him, she the one remaining in control. However, now all she could do was resign herself to the fact that she knew, understood well, that there wouldn’t be a day to pass where she wouldn’t crave that man to his very bones. Five minutes and he’d turned her into a shuddering wreck. Five. Fucking. Minutes.

“That fucking man!” she fumed, throwing her legs up on the sofa and shuffling down, resting the ashtray upon her stomach as she drew fiercely on the blunt in her hand. It hit her then, that she’d also left without payment for the drugs she’d dropped off, Taissa groaning, wiping a hand down her face with a sigh. That fucking man.

He had no business literally being capable of fucking her brains out. In five minutes. Five fucking minutes!!

A little internal composure was reined back, though, realising she’d left him there utterly breathless upon the floor. She did, after all, always give as good as she got. Who was to say that he wasn’t just as enchanted by her prowess now, too? Still, the balance felt off to her, and she was a sizeable wedge of money down. There was only one thing to do.

‘Send me Kvarforth’s number.’

A few seconds passed before Miika replied. ‘Whyyyyy?’

‘None of your concern, just do it. I need to speak to him.’

‘Ohhhh, has Tai got a crush?’

Her lip curled instantly, knowing of course her brother was enjoying this greatly, his usual taunting of her. ‘Number. Now. I have business with him.’

“Does this business involve his cock?” he asked, after she’d begrudgingly answered his call.

No, she’d had that already. “Miika, just text me the number.”

“Why are you being evasive? What is this business?”

She couldn’t reveal it, save being further harangued by her sibling. Nor could she admit that, for the time being at least, Niklas had scored his drugs on tick rather than paying for them immediately. Very few people dared owed either of them money, Taissa especially. He ferocity there was well known. “Send me the number, or I tell dad you once dated a black girl.”

Leevi Aho was, at his heart, a hardened racist, a terrible trait that had fortunately bypassed his very unprejudiced children completely. They’d tried many times to update his thinking to little avail. Miika didn’t care who you were as long as you weren’t annoying, and Taissa – much like the man whose number she was attempting to procure – looked down upon anyone other than a chosen few with the same distain, regardless of race.

“For fucks sake, no,” he groaned. Not that he really cared, but he could do without being berated for a good half an hour by his father and his white pride nonsense. It was a shame, because for all his criminality and penchant for narrow-mindedness, Leevi was a very amiable man with those he liked. “You wouldn’t, Tai.”

Oh, she would. “Try me. I want that number, and I want it now, Miika.”

Hanging up, it took a total of twenty seconds for the contact to ping into her messages, Taissa saving it under the name of ‘that fucking man’ before typing out a message.

‘You still owe me for the delivery. Meet me at Goldie’s at six tomorrow, they have a good bourbon selection. I’ll let you buy me one if you’re not late.’

Hell, the least she could do was get a drink out of him, pissed off that she was. How dare he be that fucking good a fuck. Yes, despite the weed softening her edges, she was still annoyed that he’d gotten a hook into her.

Niklas was in the middle of trying to feed Katze when his phone beeped, the meowing feline weaving his ankles in her impatience for the bowl to be offered.

“If you break my fucking neck, I cannot feed you,” he spoke, placing it down for her once she’d cleared his feet. “I wouldn’t recommend eating me if I expired either. I probably wouldn’t taste too great.”

Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he saw a number he didn’t recognise, opening the message. He grinned, returning it, leaving her waiting a little while. He had every intention of meeting her the following evening, but he wouldn’t show himself to jump at the chance. An hour later, and he finally replied.

‘Six-thirty, and yes. I might. Depends, though.’

Ten minutes passed, Taissa busy preparing herself an early dinner. ‘On what?’

‘On whether I can follow that bourbon down your throat with my cock.’

Yes, he was about as subtle as a hand grenade, but he didn’t believe in coyness.

She had to smile a little at such bluntness, very much liking that about him. ‘If you’re lucky.’ Oh, the glory she could hold at meeting up with him, dangling the promise of another dalliance with her, only to snatch it away and leave him burning on the memory of what had happened between them instead.

‘I always am. See you at six-thirty.’

With those plans made, she was in no real rush to move herself off her huge, comfortable white sofa, deciding to lounge around before she’d begin her night making drops to her customers as soon as the calls began coming in. That, of course, meant switching her work phone on first. 5pm and she’d do it, wanting time to herself first.

With little else to do, she decided to indulge in a little more research about the man who she’d be seeing the following evening, deciding to look at a few interviews on YouTube. Very quickly, she saw a definite pattern begin to emerge.

While Niklas was by no means tame in nature, he definitely had a duality. High and drunk, and he was a loud, obnoxious nightmare, but somehow still quite entertaining. Less so, or completely sober, and he was very engaging, intelligent and well-spoken.

There was a candidness to him that some might find unnerving, but she could easily spot when he was embellishing from when he wasn’t, very much enjoying trying to provoke a reaction. Most of the time, though, he wasn’t, and that was perhaps the most unnerving thing about him. His life had been dark, and he carried it with him.

They were very similar there.

Also, he might’ve professed to have an extreme adversity to people, but he certainly liked being the centre of attention. Hell, he wouldn’t have been a vocalist if he didn’t, although she did sense there to be exhilaration and apathy in equal measures while watching him on stage.

In her twenty-eight years, she had become extremely apt at reading people, even being able to pick up on when others were doing the exact same thing. Niklas definitely read people quickly and adjusted himself to suit, Taissa also noticing his very low threshold for either bullshit or boredom.

Again, they were very similar there.

Laughing to herself at the discomfort of one particular interviewer, who had sadly gone in woefully unprepared to deal with a drunken Niklas, his mundane mediocrity being met by – at least she thought – quite comedic hostility. Then again, she did have a darker sense of humour, and making people feel uncomfortable always had been a source of entertainment for her.

And yet again, they were very similar there.

Something else pertinent she noticed about him, after switching interviews to one he’d participated in just the previous year, was his view on relationships. He seemed to have no problem falling in love and being with a woman, but always, it would be sabotaged by his own misdeeds for the sake of lyrical fodder. He needed, it seemed, to live what he wrote.

He also spoke of manipulating women to fall in love with him, Taissa feeling her mouth curl sinisterly. Oh, the thrill to be the one who manipulated somebody like him to fall head over heels for her, and then simply leave him behind. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d done it either, but god, the prize of knowing she could more than likely exert such over a man like Niklas. It was too tempting a thrill to pass up.

Also, it meant she got to fuck him some more, too. That certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing. He was, as she’d recently learned, very good with his cock.

It offset the feeling of knowing she was craving him all over again, and after only just about recovering from the sexual decimation she’d received, too. She could have her cake and eat it, as it were. Sex that good was almost impossible to pass up, should it be on offer to her again.

And of course, it would be.

Rising from the sofa eventually, she slipped on her shoes, her feet much more comfortable in the black Nike sneakers she chose, her attire casual in leggings, an oversized t shirt and hoodie, picking up her keys, phone and stash. She was running with one of hers and Miika’s underlings that night, going to fetch Henrik before her seven-hour hustle began.

Pills, speed, mind-bending weed and what she had left in blow were all delivered promptly to waiting customers, Taissa keeping her eye out for the only worry she faced while working. Since she made a habit of changing her car regularly, though, it made it harder for the police to keep tabs on her transportation. Still, it didn’t mean she proceeded in her endeavours without caution.

By 2am, she was out of everything, dropping Henrik home and happily returning to hers to crawl into bed and sleep for many hours. Awaking at a very late 10am, she threw herself out of bed and into gym clothes, using the facilities luckily on hand there in her apartment complex.

While working up a very decent sweat on the treadmill, she couldn’t help but smile to herself through the thigh-burning torture she endured. It likely wouldn’t be the only cardiovascular workout she’d be getting that day, looking forward to the one that’d involve a certain tall dude with a lot of tattoos.

Until then, she went to collect her new supply ready for work to resume the following day, took a long bath, not needing to worry about timing her getting ready to head out and meet Niklas. The reason beyond the plentiful bourbon choice at the bar she’d suggested was entirely out of convenience for her; Goldie’s was a two-minute walk from her apartment.

Turning the corner at 6:29pm, she saw him sitting at a table outside, her stomach flipping pleasantly at the memory of the afternoon before.

“Why did you tell me to meet you here?” he began, looking mildly vexed as she sat down opposite him, having a glass of bourbon slid across the table while he lit a cigarette. “This place is bullshit, the vast choice of that stuff aside.”

“Because it’s two minutes from my apartment.” Her revelation did nothing to remove the unimpressed expression, Taissa clicking her fingers and holding her hand out. “I believe I’m owed.”

He took the money from his pocket and handed it over. “For making me meet you here, I’m the one who is now owed. You’d better swallow.”

“If you’re going to do a job, you do it right or not at all.”

He might have been stewing in a bad mood, mostly from being stared at by half the vastly different patrons in the bar who’d viewed him as some kind of oddity, but he couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

She was just about to deliver an equally smart mouthed retort when her eye was caught by somebody on approach, a certain someone who froze as soon as he saw her. Rule number one with Taissa Aho; never be foolish enough to owe her money.

“Wait here.”

She was out of her seat and running in chase down the street after the man in a flash, Niklas turning to look over his shoulder, impressed at her speed and ability to run in high heels if nothing else. Never being one for obeying the will of others, he sank his drink and got up, walking in the direction they’d ran.

He saw her catch the guy, dragging him between two buildings, keeping his pace casual as he drew on his cigarette, entering the narrow alley to witness a sight his eyes fixated upon keenly. There was the man who had unsuccessfully fled, pinned to the wall by his throat, Taissa punching him repeatedly in the face with a knuckle duster donned hand, looking beyond irate.

“Where’s my fucking money, Eino?”

“I’ll get it, I’ll get it for you soon, just give me a couple of days! Fuck!”

“Wrong answer,” she hissed, her fist meeting his cheekbone again, the skin splitting. God, the dick twitch that gave her audience, Niklas leaning against the wall and spectating keenly. He much preferred it to the bar. “I want all of it. Now.”

“I haven’t got it, Taissa! Fuck, let me go and I’ll make a call, get it here for you!”

Her laughter was a dark bark of disbelief, her fist connecting with his face a couple more times. “Liar. Give me my fucking money.”

“I... but...” he spoke, turning his head to view Niklas, standing there grinning. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

His eyebrows rose, lifting his chin with a sniff. “You, getting your face split open.” Drawing on his cigarette, he continued to watch the scene unfold, more than impressed at the way Taissa handled things. He missed a good fight. Being on probation sucked.

Oh, now he knew her name, too. She could now be known as something other than the hot blonde with a beautiful cunt and an acerbic temperament. “I’d give her the money if I were you.”

Taissa jerked her head in his direction, her fist once again cracking Eino’s face, this time shattering a couple of teeth. “What he said. Money, Eino. Now.”

With his mouth, eye and cheek pouring with blood, Eino went into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and shuffling through to grab the required notes. Taissa tutted, pulling the full wedge out. “No, no. All of that will be fine. The rest I will take as interest. Now, if I were you, I’d lose my number. If I ever see you again, the other half of your face gets broken. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” One more punch for good measure had him knocked into a daze, Taissa releasing him to fall down into a heap, turning to walk back to Niklas. “I thought I told you to wait...”

That was as far as she got before he grasped her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers, her display of undiluted aggression acting more than favourably upon him. In short, he was so turned on, he was surprised he could even stand up.

The kiss was a lot less animalistic than the last time, but fuck, if it didn’t smoulder with exactly the same level of heat. “I think that’s the sexiest thing I’ve witnessed in a while.”

Slipping the knuckle duster from her fingers, she pocketed it, flexing her hand a few times. “Just wait until you see how sexy I look with your cock in my mouth.”

He barely could. “Hmm, yeah,” he breathed, kissing her again. “I think I might like you. As much as I can like someone, that is. Because I don’t. I do not like people at all.”

The corner of her mouth tugged upward; her face full of triumph. “I know.” Another kiss was shared, her tongue rolling pleasantly with his, his arms tightening around her. Oh, wow. He was hard. An interesting response to her giving somebody a beating, if nothing else. “At least one man in this alleyway knows what’s good for him.”

Never let it be said that Niklas didn’t know a good thing when he saw it. Except truly, she wasn’t. Taissa was just as bad as him. Maybe worse. And that was exactly why he liked her.

#niklas kvarorth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining band #shining #black metal #metal guys

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darklydeliciousdesires · 8 days ago

Text

Burn Bright White - Chapter Two.

Previous Chapters - One

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,464

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

A quick Google search between her drops had alluded to just enough information on the man she’d dealt an eighth to earlier that evening in order to be armed appropriately. He had a nylon fetish, and liked it when women wore high heels. Two things she just so happened to be very fond of herself, too. Whether wearing them or seducing another woman in them. Often both.

Make yourself prey, but always, without deviation, remain the hunter.

Pulling her sleek, black BMW into the overnight carpark, she grabbed her bag and shoes (six-inch heels were not practical for driving) slipping her feet into them and buckling the straps, exiting her car. She paused, checking her reflection. Perfection, as always. Then again, prolific, well-connected drug dealers were never anything other than immaculate. They could afford to be.

She’d chosen a tight, black dress short enough to show the lace tops of her nylons, the type that adhered to her long, toned legs without the need for a garter belt, her PVC pin heels echoing upon the concrete as she walked to the elevator. Once inside, she quickly re-glossed her lips, giving her long, loose curls a quick ruffle.

“Lady, you look like walking sex,” she purred to her reflection, snapping her Chanel compact shut. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

And god, how he wouldn’t.

The Roadhouse was a little low brow for her tastes, but at least the music would be decent, she reasoned. The doormen knew her well, too, let her deal in there for a very generous cut of the profits. In her world, everyone could be bought. Plus, wherever she went, there’d be a likely throng of people waiting to party with her.

Hell, Taissa was the party. Young, rich and beautiful. Everyone wanted to gravitate in her orbit.

“Hey sexy! Can I take you home?” a man hollered at her as soon as she was out on the street, her lip curling immediately.

Spinning on a heel, she looked him up and down, smirking. “Stay in your lane, little boy. I’m too much woman for you.”

His friends howled like wolves at her audacity, the man throwing a barrage of abuse she didn’t have the inkling or the time to give any kind of witty retort to, continuing her walk.

“Evening, princess,” Oliver, one of said doormen welcomed her with, making a point to check her bag, of course ignoring the two ounces of cocaine in small wraps concealed within the middle pocket, and her ever present knuckle dusters. “Looking gorgeous, as ever. Have a good night.”

Smiling, she pressed two fifties into his hand with a wink. “You too, Oli.” He held the door open for her, Taissa sauntering in with her usual feline glide, the music absolutely deafening. Ahhh, old school night. The pounding of Feed the Gods by nineties metal band White Zombie erupted in her ears as she strode for the bar, a few familiar faces turning to welcome her.

She didn’t really have friends, more hangers on, but she liked the group who all greeted her enthusiastically.

“Tai! Get over here!” Pieter, a very good-looking man who she knew well roared, kissing her cheek, Taissa beaming, reaching for his girlfriend and planting a kiss on her lips.

“I’m stealing your girl. Look after my bag,” she began, clicking her fingers at the barman and pointing to the smooth, black wooden surface dividing them. “Jim Beam, two bottles.”

Whatever the lady wanted, the lady got, two bottles of the aforementioned bourbon produced, the barman knowing of course she was good for it. As well as a very generous tip. Off she and Pieter’s girlfriend – a good-looking girl whose name she nearly always forgot – went, dancefloor bound. If she didn’t have almost every pair of male eyes upon her from the moment she’d strode in, she definitely did once she began to gyrate against the pretty redhead. A certain pair in particular.

“Man, you need to turn around. Free show on the dancefloor. Fuck!”

Sinking another shot of San Jose, Niklas turned to see what Bjorn and his elbow digging were alluding to, feeling his heart quicken in an instant. There she was, the blonde.

“Hey, so are you gonna buy me a drink, or what?”

Those words, cooed in his ear by a girl who’d attached herself to him as soon as he’d arrived at the bar barely registered in significance, not now he’d spotted the object of his extremely aroused desire a mere twenty feet away from him.

“No.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am, now fuck off. You bore me.” He didn’t even look back at her to watch her storm away in a cloud of her own chagrin, his eyes locked onto the blonde, entranced, reaching for another of the many shots lined up and sinking it without tearing his gaze away. “You’re too attractive for your own good.” he muttered, feeling Bjorn nudging him again.

“She’s fucking hot, huh?”

His mouth twitched into a half-smile. “She’s definitely something.”

“That's a very reserved statement for you, my friend,” he observed, taking a shot and knocking it back.

“Trust me, what’s on my mind is not.” His words roused a booming laugh from his friend, Bjorn slapping him on the back, pulling him near to kiss his head.

“Go get her, man! Because you don’t take a ride on that tonight, I sure as fuck will!”

Niklas continued to watch, leaning closer to him. “She can come to me.”

His stance flew in the face of what Taissa had told him, that he’d have to work for it, but he didn’t care. He had his ways. Besides, he knew what she was doing. He could see her making sure he was watching her dance wildly out of the corner of her eye, so simply turned his back and continued talking with his friend.

He never said he wasn’t hard work, too. Her game was something he knew very, very well how to play. However, Taissa knew how to play it better, going about her night without giving him a second look, ensuring that as soon as he realised she was no longer actively seeking his attention, that was the exact thing she received.

Being ignored did not sit well with him.

“Tai, here,” the barman spoke, sliding over a tall shot glass across the bar a while later, jerking his head in the opposite direction. “From Kvarforth. On one condition; you have to drink it without using your hands.”

Her eyebrows fluttered, her group making an array of interested noises at such a proposition, Taissa looking over at the man who’d bought it for her. She knew he’d find some way to get her attention, eventually. Holding her hair back, she leaned to the bar, wrapping her lips around the glass and straightening, the golden liquid tingling her throat as she swallowed it neatly.

Niklas clapped casually, his mouth curling upward. He’d enjoyed watching that more than he thought he would, observing as she poured a shot of bourbon into the glass, picked up her bag and made her way over to him. Two could play his game, but she’d play it better.

Arriving in front of him, she lifted the glass, sticking it between her tits, looking back up at him with a little smirk. “Now you drink it without using your hands.”

Standing a little taller, his eyebrow rose a tad, a grin of mirth spreading across his face before he bent to her level, retrieved the glass with his mouth and swallowed back the contents. God, she had skin like a peach, sweet scented and smooth. He ignored the approving howling of Bjorn at the display of flirting, becoming lost in the pale blue of her eyes, his heartbeat jacking up with every thud.

She held him there in a trance, reaching for him, her long nails curling at the sides of his neck as she leaned into to him, pressed her body against his, and promptly licked his cheek.

“Mmm, you taste as good as you smell.”

He leaned to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “I’m sure I could say the same about you, too.”

“Would you like that?” she teased, leaning back, reining in his stare once more, watching him nod, about to speak. Any words he had were stolen from his throat as he observed her hand sliding down her body and under her dress, the noise of Bjorn going wild at his side, the thundering roar of music all fading as he watched in semi-disbelief as she pushed her hand into her underwear momentarily, and then her fingers into his mouth.

If Taissa knew one thing well, if was how to make a man’s brain short circuit completely.

Letting him suck on her fingers, a look of bliss spread across his face at the taste of her dancing over his tongue. Oh, she’d hooked him. Grasping his jaw, she yanked him to her level, pushing her tits against his chest, her teeth nipping his earlobe. “Now you know what you have to work for, so work for it.”

Every girl in that club could have learned from her in the lesson ‘how to get Niklas Kvarforth’s attention in one easy move’, the man himself so aroused, he almost bit her fingers off.

Yanking them from his mouth, she scowled, her hand striking his cheek in a hard slap that took him by surprise, but delighted him in equal measures. He enjoyed when women stood up to him, showed a little fire, weren’t as boring and predictable as the rest.

“Work for it, big guy. Then you get to bite me.” Puckering her lips at him, she ran her fingernail along the curve of his jaw, turning and walking in that alluring glide towards the door. Pulling her cigarettes from her bag, she placed one between her lips, counting in her head. Five, four, three, two...

A tattooed hand came into her line of vision, flicking his lighter for her. Sparks preceded the flame, lighting her cigarette before doing the same with his own, staring down at her. The taste of her still lingered on his tongue, acting like a drug, luring strongly, pulling him in.

“Let's cut out all of this bullshit, huh? I want you, you want me, blah, blah blah. Let me take you home and trust me, that hard work you want? I’ll put it into making you come so many times, you can’t shut your legs.”

“A bold statement,” she asserted, drawing on her cigarette languidly.

His face didn’t flicker at all. "One I can back up. Trust me.” He leaned to her, his gaze predatory, hungry, almost wolf-like. “I would fucking ruin you, honey."

She chuckled, teasing him by making a show of licking her highly glossed lips, letting him imagine it, how they’d feel all over him, especially sliding over the place her free hand reached to stroke. “Not before I ruin you, Niklas. Because I will, don’t say you weren’t warned.”

“Doubtful, but I’ll look forward to you trying to prove that.” The tickle of her nails over his crotch had him rapidly hardening, Taissa impressed at what she could feel gaining thickness and heat against her touch.

“You probably will, but not tonight.”

“Then when?” he asked, his hand gliding down her bare arm. It sent an instant shiver through her. She wouldn’t be easily swayed, though. No matter how electrifying his touch. If that was how it felt when he stroked her arm...

Her hand grasped, squeezing his cock, placing a kiss full of syrupy heat at the side of his tattooed throat, a faint, soft little moan of approval at his hardness fluttering against his neck. How he could have mauled the skin from her bones in that very moment.

“When you work for it.”

He chuckled deep in his throat, a low, predatory rumble, eyes glinting. “Little girl, unless you like being burned, don’t play with fire.”

Of course, she had an answer for him, her face nearing his once more, just enough to make him yearn for it, crave the kiss she wouldn’t grant. “Niklas, please. I am the fire.”

That frustration spurred him into action. Back into the club he went, finding the next most attractive woman in there.

“Wanna fuck me?”

“Yes.”

Easy, willing, boring. But it was what he needed after the thorough stirring he’d received, taking the girl home and fucking her so hard, he was surprised he didn’t break the bed. Or her. All the time, too, it wasn’t the pretty, raven-haired woman he was with that he imagined. In his mind, all he saw was himself fucking the blonde. And he would. Eventually. Maybe sooner than he thought.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining band #shining #black metal #metal guys

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darklydeliciousdesires · 21 hours ago

Text

Burn Bright White - Chapter Five.

Thanks to my lovely Diana and Lindsey for their enthusiasm, as always <3

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,513

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

After returning to the bar, she headed inside to wash the blood from her hands and tidy herself a little, buying another round. Sitting there, still buzzing from her altercation, it was violence they found themselves discussing firstly. She firstly learned he had a background in martial arts, but the way he delivered answers to some of her questions, well, it was certainly unique.

He was, at times, the conversational equivalent of a broken sat nav; he could never get from point A to B without several detours, more often than not never even arriving at point B at all. Of course, she’d witnessed that in him, watching him being interviewed, knowing it was a mixture likely borne of his desire to be vague when it suited him, and surprisingly candid when it didn’t.

“I have my father to thank for my temperamental streak,” she began, lighting a cigarette and knocking the pack across the table to him. “He always said to me, ‘Tai, you were blessed with your mother’s looks, but cursed with her small stature. But it is no matter. I will show how to be tiny, yet mighty’, and he did.”

Niklas had indeed noticed that it was only her choice of footwear that made her tall, Taissa continuing. “He taught me how to shoot, wield knives and bare-knuckle fight. Well, when he wasn’t in prison, that is. I went from the piss-weak, skinny little kid to the one turning over the playground bullies for the money and trinkets they’d stolen from other kids fairly quickly.”

They had a paternal common ground, it seemed. “Prison is where my father remains. He’s... well. I’m my father’s son, let’s put it that way. Except he’s much worse than I am.”

“I think I’m probably at the same level as hostile as my dad when antagonised, except I’m not a Nazi and he is, unfortunately. I still adore him, though, that aside. He looks menacing, too. Imagine Zakk Wylde with a shaved head, but over two metres tall and covered in Neo-Nazi tattoos, and you have my papa.

“Some might call it perverse that my taste in men is somewhat similar. I like a tall guy with more hair on his face than his head, covered in ink.” She paused, reaching to drag her finger in a slow glide down his cheek. “What’s scary to some is sexy fucking beast to me.”

Turning his head, he bit her finger, sucking it into his mouth, Taissa’s eyes narrowing at him although a smile danced upon her lips. “What did I tell you about biting me, Kvarforth?”

Releasing her finger, he looked mildly incredulous, reaching beneath her hair to stroke the purple bite at the side of her neck. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

It jolted through her, the memory of his groan when he’d bitten her, the feel of his cock flooding her with cum as he’d pounded her against the hallway wall. The air seemed to crackle as they stared at one another, both in silent challenge of the other to look away first.

“Did you say your apartment is two minutes away?”

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat as desire began to lap in waves through her, remembering the heat of it, having him all over her. It didn’t help matters when his fingers began to glide across her neck, the touch chasing a herd of goose pimples over her skin. “Shall we go now?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, standing slowly. “No. I think I’ll make you wait for it a little longer first.”

Bastard. That wasn’t to say she’d take it lying down, though. Well, eventually she would.

“So, tell me. Why did you choose your career path, lucrative payoff aside?” he asked after returning from the bar, placing the bottle of Never Say Die bourbon he’d been requesting down on the table. There was just under a third left, and so as not to have to suffer being inside the bar any more than he absolutely had to, he’d talked the barmaid into selling him what remained.

“I enjoy having that power over somebody. I have what they need, and I get to profit off of that. Much like you, I am not a people person, beyond what they can do for me. I live a very good life from their addiction, their weakness. This will never cease being thrilling to me.”

Brutal honesty. He respected that. Seldom few were the same.

“Before I started buying from your brother,” he began, Taissa rapidly shaking her head.

“Me. You buy from me. I stand at the helm,” she interrupted.

“From you,” he continued, “I used to buy from a man named Stefan. I think he was probably one of the most fantastically dark individuals I have ever known. He used to have one hell of a kink, engineering it so junkies would overdose and masturbating as he witnessed them die. I went with him once, but she didn’t fucking die. Shame, I’d have liked to witness that.”

Taissa knew exactly what he was doing, seeing if he could force some kind of shock reaction from her. She gave none. “Did you hear how he died?”

Curiosity piqued within him. “He’s dead? I assumed he’d been arrested when I could no longer reach him. That was usually the way when he went quiet.”

“No, he did a Michael Hutchence. Died by autoerotic asphyxiation. He was found hanging in his bedroom, cock still hard, with a twelve-inch dildo suctioned onto the floor beneath him.”

Niklas couldn’t help but laugh at that. “This does not surprise me in the slightest. That man propositioned me multiple times.”

Her eyebrow raised. “And did you?”

“No, men don’t do it for me,” he revealed, sipping his drink. “I am alas a fucking slave to what you women have between your legs.”

“Alas?” she questioned, kicking off her shoe beneath the table, beginning to slowly slide her foot up his inner thigh. “Why is that?”

“Because you are all cunning, terrible creatures.” His eyes flitted down, seeing her red-painted toes press into his crotch. “Case in point.”

“Guilty as charged,” she shrugged, beginning to massage his cock with the ball of her foot. “But you like it.”

Her assertion was correct, but he didn’t confirm, shifting in his seat a little as he felt himself beginning to harden. Fuck, this woman. Tempress didn’t cut it.

Just then, the sound of gears being furiously crunched attracted their attention, both turning to see a car haphazardly shuddering up the street. At the same time, they shouted the exact same words.

“Put it in H!”

Niklas’s eyes snapped to her in an instant. A Simpsons fan. He rarely met them these days, it seemed. “So, not only can she quote The Simpsons, but she can recall the most obscure quotes, too. Interesting.”

Taissa pointed to the car, the driver of which continuing to struggle. “She’ll go three hundred hectares on a single tank of kerosene.”

He couldn’t help but begin laughing. Her impersonation of the Crazy Vaclav character was utterly perfect. “What country is this car from?”

“It no longer exists.” They both fell into soft laughter at that, their little skit from the cartoon having them both feeling entertained.

“I remember the first episode I ever saw, with Homer repeatedly falling down the cliff,” she reminisced, snorting with laughter. “I was about five, I think. My mother thought I was warped to find it so funny, but it’s the funniest moment for certain,” she spoke, Niklas yanking her foot away from his crotch and resting it on his thigh instead, idly playing with her toes.

He clicked his fingers, pointing at her. “Agreed.” It was a strange juxtapose, two people who so revelled in the darker, more criminal side of life, both having an affinity for the iconic, light-hearted cartoon. “A close second is him losing it in episode based on The Shining. No TV and no beer make Homer go crazy.”

She beamed, obliging him in continuation. “Don’t mind if I do!” Her enactment of Homer indeed going crazy had him booming with laughter, people turning to stare. It was utterly ridiculous, the black metal musician and the drug dealer, broken from the veneer of hardness surrounding them, as well as their mental and sexual teasing by the reciting of a kid’s cartoon.

He topped up their glasses with the last of the bourbon, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, offering her one, too. All while his other hand preoccupied itself with her foot.

“How are you enjoying my toes?”

Looking down at the dainty foot, he then stared at her intently. “I’ll be enjoying them much more when they’re in my mouth.”

Oooh, the wink he followed those words with. Her pussy clenched in an instant. “Got a thing for feet, hmm?”

A thing was putting it mildly. “You could say that. Feet, feet in high heels, in nylons. Legs in nylons. My fetishes are well-documented.” Running his index finger down the centre of her foot, he rotated it a few times before returning it to tickle over her toes. “What are your fetishes?”

“Money and power.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I meant sexual, and you know that I did.”

“Who said money and power can’t be sexual?” Watching him, she knew from his lowered gaze, the expectance in his eyes, that he wouldn’t accept that. Well, if there was ever a time to tease a little more... “Having the weight of a man on me, feeling pinned, being held down. I’m boss in every aspect of my life, and I rarely deviate in the bedroom. Sometimes, though, I like to submit.”

She certainly had when he’d picked her up and fucked her against his hallway wall. Then again, with the sexual force of nature that was Niklas, she’d had little choice.

The information shared was met by a look of appreciation, his glass lifted, the contents sunk in one gulp. “Drink up, and I can make that happen for you.”

Pulling her foot from his grasp, she slid it in a slow glide down his leg, looking out from beneath her long lashes at him. Picking up the glass, she made a show of licking her lips before tipping the warming bourbon down her throat, slipping her foot back into her shoe. “Let’s go.”

Time seemed to move slowly as they walked to the end of the row, turning the corner, Taissa keying in her code on the front door. It felt like a storm brewing, the heat gathering thickly as they stepped into the elevator, heading three floors up, the air becoming heavy, glances stolen, the anticipation creeping over them like a fog.

Putting the key in her door, she felt him sweep her hair from her neck, teeth biting down, the pin pricks of pain melting like icicles trickling down her spine, turning to pull him to her level and kiss him with ferocity. He herded her backwards, lifting her with ease, the open plan of the large space meaning he didn’t need to inquire over bedroom location. Clothes were shed en route, their bodies hitting the bed, mouths locked together as he pinned her beneath his weight, taking her wrists in an encircled grip and pressing them either side of her head.

“How’s that?”

How was that? Enough to feel the petals of her cunt begin to become slick for him, Taissa transfixed at watching the blue of his eyes almost eclipsed entirely by rapidly inking pupils. “Amazing, but it can wait.” Pulling from the grip, she pressed her hands to his chest, pushing him off of her and back to his feet. “Right now, there’s not much I need more than your cock in my mouth.”

He hummed a chuckle, raising an eyebrow as his hand tangled in her hair, giving it a short, sharp tug. “I’m not about to stop... that.”

The pause between words couldn’t be helped, his breath hitching, watching himself vanish completely between her full lips. She kept him swallowed back, her mouth pulsing around the very base of his cock a few times, tongue flickering the underside before slowly gliding back up his shaft. Just that, and she already had him mindless. The feel of her nails scraping down his sides only added to it.

“Fuck,” he whispered, chest shuddering, transfixed at the sight, his hand tightening in her hair again sharply. “You look even prettier, choking on my cock.”

Pushing further into her throat, he triggered her gag reflex, Taissa releasing him to spit on his shaft, pumping it with her hand thereafter, tongue gliding over the tip. It made lightning begin to flicker at the base of his spine, roughly forcing himself back between her lips again, grunting quietly when her fingers began to pinch and twist at one of his nipples.

“Oh, even though it’s a little late, you’d better not fucking have herpes or anything else nasty. I’ll fucking cut your balls off if you do,” she spoke, sucking the head of his cock, Niklas laughing through his nose. He didn’t doubt she would.

“Surprisingly, I actually don’t. I got forced into an STI test recently, so I know I’m fine.”

She paused, her eyebrow fluttering. “Forced?”

“Mm,” he hummed, watching himself disappear in her mouth once more. “If you bareback two patients in the same mental facility as you within the space of forty-eight hours, they make you get tested.”

“Animal,” she quipped, turning her head to bite the side of his hip.

“I have a feeling that is exactly what you like about me.” He wasn’t wrong, Taissa returning her mouth to his cock and once again, making him vanish. Fuck, she was too good at sucking dick, Niklas feeling himself beginning to ascend quite rapidly, fingers weaving tighter in her hair as he began to fuck her mouth, his chest starting to rise and fall more rapidly.

Feeling him becoming firmer within her mouth gave her the most delicious little shocks of excitement, becoming dewier at her apex, imagining how it would soon feel to have him inside her, her arousal glowing like moonbeams through the very depths of her.

That gathered excitement spurred her mouth quicker upon him, her tongue teases becoming more potent, Niklas’s hand still clutched hard upon her hair. His gravelly groans became more frequent, her lips tightening, oh, so tight around him, pleasure skittering over his tremble-wracked body.

The embers began to crackle, glowing, ever nearing bursting into flame, Taissa sensing it, speeding her mouth up until she felt him pulsing between her lips, shooting his load onto her tongue with a guttural grunt as his hips swayed forward, swallowing back every last hot spurt.

“Sufficiently ruined?”

The look he gave her was all darkened lust, pushing her back on the bed, yanking her legs up and taking one of her feet, sucking her toes with a groan. “No. Trust me, though. You’re about to be.”

She could barely wait.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining band #shining #black metal #metal guys

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darklydeliciousdesires · 28 days ago

Text

Sanguine Storm - A Vampire!Niklas Kvarforth/Reader One Shot Story.

I wrote a follow up to Interview with the Vampire (which you can find here) Enjoy!

Words - 6,654

Warnings - Adult content and smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You’re used to travelling with your job, flying all over the world to interview musicians. The journey you have taken on this trip though is to conduct a meeting with somebody entirely different; the world authority, she coins herself. On all things vampire.

It took time and many deep dive searches through the dark web, a place you were not altogether comfortable with visiting, before you found her. God, the sights you saw prior to finding Erzsébet Zrinski. Vampire’s might not be public knowledge, but they thrive openly within the darkest corner of the internet. Vampire porn? You got it, although it costs a fortune. Vampire sex worker services? Yep, you can find those, too, again the price steep.

By comparison, Erzsébet’s knowledge comes at a very pocket-friendly sum. You just wish she accepted meetings via Zoom, but alas she will only impart her knowledge on a face-to-face basis, to protect herself in case she is ever secretly recorded. “The vampires, they would come for me, should they definitely know what I reveal about them.”

Testament to this is the steep security she surrounds her modest home with, one located at the very end of a main drag of housing in the city of Szeged. Well, it’s steep if you’re a vampire, with the garlic plants growing all around in window boxes, and the window frames themselves fashioned from silver.

“Ahh, (Y/N),” she speaks friendlily upon opening her door, eyes scanning the street with caution, pulling a silver coin from her pocket. “Your hand, before I welcome you into my home.”

Holding it out, she presses it into your skin, waiting. Of course, if you were a vampire, your flesh would smoulder instantly. “You pass the test, but I must pat you down and check your bag for recording equipment before we proceed.” One quick pat down and bag check satisfy her, the elder middle-aged woman reassured even further when she sees you switch your phone off completely, thus earning her trust.

Following her in, she steers you toward the table within her kitchen, the hearth crackling, a couple of cats and a long-haired terrier dog warming themselves in front of it. They appreciate the little scratches you offer to their heads before you sit down. Once furnished with tea, she joins you.

“Now, dear. You are having difficulties with a vampire?”

That’s putting it mildly. “I am, yes. Well, I think I am, but I’m not so sure.” Taking a breath, you begin your tale. “I met him a few months ago, and ever since then I keep thinking I see him. I’ll be walking along and suddenly be able to pick his face out amongst a group of people, but in the next second, he vanishes.”

“They do indeed move quickly, dear,” she speaks. “Surely, you already knew that?”

“Of course, but we live in different countries. Over a few thousand miles apart.”

She sips her tea with a little wink. “A vampire can move a thousand miles in mere minutes. The older they are, the quicker they move and the stronger they are, too. Do you know his age?”

“Five, in vampire years.” That’s about when you can pin him down to being turned, somewhere around the 2019 time, when Shining ceased playing festivals in the daytime and Niklas’s presence became a lot more reclusive, too. “It isn’t just that, though,” you continue, wringing your hands a few times. “He’s in my head. I hear his voice, I dream about him and it’s like he’s really there with me. He’s taunting me and I don’t know how to make him stop!”

At seeing your anguish, Erzsébet reaches to pat your hand. “You drank some of his blood when you were with him, didn’t you?”

A strange question to pose, you think. “I erm, I did, yes.”

She hisses a wince, shaking her head as she closes her eyes. “Oh, darling girl. You shouldn’t have done that.”

In truth, you needed to in order to keep up with him. Human flesh is much weaker than immortal, and being flung around a bedroom by a big, horny vampire? It takes its toll on the body, and their blood is healing when imbibed by a human. After the first two hours, you felt like you’d been sandblasted between your legs. “I erm, I needed to, because of what we were doing at the time and ..."

Her nod is deep, humming knowingly. “I know all about that, dear.” She then whistles, low and lewd, her eyes narrowing a little. “Vigorous isn’t quite enough to describe, is it?”

No. It would be fair to say that it isn’t. A hail of goose pimples pepper your skin at remembering it, being with him. It was like a thousand tiny lights shone to brilliance all over your body, heart thundering like a war drum, bitten, spanked, mauled, fucked in every position you could ever imagine – and some you never had before – his growls of desire in your ears, the feel of fangs grazing your skin, the taste of your own blood on his mouth. Him. He might have been dead, but while you were with him, you’d never felt more alive.

While it was your body that called out to him, he now does the same to you, infiltrating your thoughts, haunting your dreams. Calling. Calling you endlessly.

“Dear, you have a link with him now. His showing up like that? It's truly him, you are not losing your mind. He drank your blood, didn’t he?" Your nod confirms. The woman feels for you, she truly does. Because they’re so largely unbelieved and unknown to society, she doesn’t blame you an ounce for having no clue over how to deal with them. Especially when they become bothersome. “He’ll be able to find his way to you because of that, a bond that is fortified even deeper by his blood also being within you.”

“For how long?” you sigh, hearing the desperation in your voice fully for the first time.

“Six months, give or take.” Her mouth thins at your eye roll. “Expect this to last until then, when it’ll begin to weaken and he won’t be able to get inside your mind any longer, or know exactly where you are.”

Shaking your head, you bite your lip, your insides sagging hard with dejection. “How does he even do it, though? How does it work?”

“It’s the magic in them. Nobody is quite sure how, but it’s that little bit of magic there that makes them what they are. His blood being within your veins gives him a very direct link to you, meaning he can transmit thoughts and visions. They use it to manipulate people primarily, play with them on an emotional level.

“If he’s proficient enough to do this as you sleep, then I draw the natural conclusion he was created by an ancient. Young vampires, they don’t have the skill, but if the one who made them is much older in years, then it is possible. That old blood makes them unbelievably powerful, even though in the grand scheme of things, he’s still just a baby at five.”

Manipulation and emotional mind games. How very on brand for Niklas.

Taking a sip of your tea, the warm liquid does little to comfort. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about him, Erzsébet. Which is exactly what he wants.” Closing your eyes, you see yourself there atop him, his fangs sunk deep into your neck, his arms clasping you to him as you howl in absolute ecstasy. “I try, but he’s too strong. Too alluring. Too damned charming and handsome for his own good.”

“I don’t blame you, sweet girl,” she smiles, patting your hand again. “Deadly they may be, but god above, they are beautiful creatures. That allure, it’s near impossible to fight. Especially if he doesn’t want you to. Especially if you know what it is to lie with a vampire, and of course, you do. No mortal can compare to them.”

Indeed not. The way he touched you, fucked you, it’s forever etched into your memory. No human man can ever hope to compare to Niklas. And yes, you do hate him a little for it, too. In fact, not even a little. A lot. You hate him because you still want him, because he’s worming his way in, for no other reason than the simple fact that he can.

You remain there in the warmth of Erzsébet’s charming little house for a few more hours, leaning from her expertise, her wealth of knowledge. She feeds you a warming bowl of paprikash and gives you a little wine too, of which you are grateful, paying her for her time and leaving. You depart feeling more knowledgeable, but certainly no better about your predicament.

The walk back to your hotel isn’t too long, the night warm enough still to enjoy the slow stroll, gazing upon the beauty that are the old buildings of the city. Stunning and looming, they offer a beautiful contrast to the newer, your eyes picking out the details of an architectural artform long abandoned for polished and shiny. Viewing one old building, you pause for a second, marvelling at the detail in each of the gargoyles. A wolf head, a man with his mouth open, the guttering overflow water leaking from it, a horse, Niklas, a dragon...

Your head snaps back, blinking, seeing the spot he was sitting upon now empty, your hand delving into your pocket to clench tightly around the thick, silver chain you’ve taken to carrying with you everywhere. With your heart racing, you hurry through the streets, feeling a little safer when you pass a long row of bars and restaurants that lead down to the corner your hotel is located upon.

There he is again in the crowd of people outside. In a blink, he disappears.

Racing down to the hotel, you can feel him at your back, your shoulders tingling unpleasantly, the weight of his stare making you feel like your body is sinking beneath it, rushing for the door and heading inside. Truly, you’re no safer there really, with it being a public dwelling, meaning he can simply walk in after you. If it was your own home, he would need your permission before he could cross the threshold, so Erzsébet revealed.

Why the fascination with you, you wonder? Surely, he must have a whole host of people he can do this to, ones located much nearer to home for him. Then again, travelling a few thousand miles, just like Erzsébet said, is truly not tasking for him at all. Still, though. Why you? Why not any of the regulars he likely feeds upon? According to her, vampires do develop a preferred blood source and become quite choosy thereafter.

It’s all very secret society-esque, how they attain their life source. In every city and town across the world, there are select groups of people who know of their existence, and will allow the undead to feed on them. To know them, you have to look for the mark, a symbol of a small, two-headed bat. Some wear it upon jewellery, others have it tattooed, but willing donors always bear the slightly altered sigil synonymous with vampires somewhere upon their person.

It still puzzles you, that you are not one of these people, and yet he revealed what he was to you.

That reason, he keeps to himself, standing atop a tall building as he watches you walk through the foyer of the hotel. He knew it would begin to eat you alive, knowing what he is and not being able to broadcast it, to attain the kind of interview you’d truly like to, reveal what he is to the world with his permission to do so. Of which, he’d obviously never grant. Nothing irritates a journalist more than knowing they have to keep a secret, and that is precisely why he told you.

Sitting down on the ledge, he closes his eyes, the dark void within him calling out to the blood that pumps through your heart, the body it came from causing it to flare as he smiles, imagining himself with you. He feels your heartbeat escalating as he beams that image into your head, his smirk growing. Meanwhile, you’re gripping onto the elevator rail, your breathing ragged, trying to block him out, his haunting, rumbling laughter filling your ears.

Opening his eyes again, he looks at the hotel one last time before standing, stepping clean off the eighty foot building and landing neatly upon the ground below, vanishing once more into the night.

You arrive home two days later, your flight landing at 11pm, an expensive Uber ride ferrying you across the city to your home. Once there, the need to simply fall into bed is overridden by your desire for a little organisation, to settle comfortably after pulling out your clothes and throwing them into the washing machine. Besides, you actually slept for a couple of hours during your flight.

Once showered and comfortable in an oversized sweatshirt and comfy little shorts, you make yourself a sandwich, not overly hungry, cutting it up into smaller triangles and pouring yourself a glass of wine. It’s a 2018 Tefethen Family Vineyards Merlot; the very same one he bought for you, the one you’ve developed quite the taste for. You suppose too, it serves as a reminder of the night. Although admitting that doesn’t come easily.

With every sip, you’re transported back to that private room within the bar, remembering the charm and wit of the man, the hilarity of his stories, how immovable his ‘couldn’t give a single fuck’ nature was. That and his intelligence, the breadth of his interests and knowledge, all of it wrapped up in something sinister and unnerving that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

If only you’d known then what you do now, that you were interviewing a vampire.

“You know, you might succeed in getting him out of your head if you stopped fucking thinking about him,” you mutter, taking another bite of your food. “You’re only making it worse.”

Not even pure loathing of him can truly besmirch the memory. There is something so deeply arousing about fucking living death and surviving it. He could have killed you in a heartbeat, but he didn’t.

It isn’t like you’ve become lovestruck by him, absolutely not. Meeting an intelligent and fascinating musician isn’t uncommon for you, with the regularity it happens. Meeting a vampire, though, who soon afterwards took you to bed and gave you the best sex of your life? Entirely different. You still crave him beyond measure, and all the hate in the world will never dilute that longing.

You are, however, incensed that he probably knows that only too well.

Yes, the knowledge that you still desire him is likely what fuels his mind games. He has to have something to do for fun, you suppose, now that drugs are well and truly out of the equation for him. He could snort every single last gram of cocaine within Bolivia and not feel the effect, being that of course, he’s dead. You can’t help but smirk at that. Schadenfreude feels good when the subject is deserving.

He certainly revels in the very same, after all.

Once your sandwich is finished, you listlessly move to the sofa, switching on the TV and seeing there’s a new documentary on Netflix that takes your interest, pouring another glass of wine and settling in to watch. Tiredness has other plans, though.

It must do, for you have to be asleep when you experience your top being lifted and a cold set of lips pressing a kiss to your navel. After all, Niklas cannot enter your home unless you invite him.

Not again. For fuck’s sake, he’s relentless!

“Get off.” Opening your eyes, you see him smirking up at you. God, he’s so smug!

He places another kiss upon your abdomen, fingers clutching at your shorts. “We both know you don’t mean that, darling.”

“I’m not your darling,” you mutter, pushing at him with your feet.

He merely takes one, tickling your toes with his tongue. “You are when I’m balls deep in your pussy.”

Sighing, you sit up, pushing him away with your hands, his long form settling to the couch as he shakes his head. “Niklas, get out of my head. I know this isn’t real. Fuck off.”

“No, but it could be,” he speaks, kissing you slowly from your wrist down to your inner elbow, the seductive press of lips making your blood spark. “I’m outside of your home right now. Invite me in, and this becomes very real.”

Your reply is immediate, resolute. “I don’t want it to be, though.”

“Remember when I told you do not lie to me, because I will know?” Indeed, you do, becoming rapidly lost in the icy blue stare as he leans to you, nose touching yours. “I know that you lie. I feel that you lie. Blood never tells an untruth.”

He’s right, and you hate that he is, has this power over you, understands how to play you perfectly, your body the instrument he knows exactly how to handle in order to elicit the desired musicality. Tipping your head back, his lips ghost the column of your throat, just enough to feel you yearn for it, chuckling with a deep rasp. “Wake up, and give in.”

The press of his mouth evokes such a visceral jolt, you sit up on the sofa with a start, breathless, heart hammering, the tight pinch of arousal throbbing deep within. Flinging yourself to your feet, you still don’t know whether you’re going to invite him in and drag him to your bed by his neck, or scream at him for being so fucking insufferable when you get there. Suffice to say you’re stirred heavily in both directions as you yank the front door open, your eyes widening in surprise to be met by nothing.

Nothing other than the sound of haunting laughter coming from behind you.

Spinning around, you see him over on the small balcony that your lounge opens onto, waving with a sinisterly amused grin before his head tips back and he laughs more, riddled with mirth. The fucking bastard.

“Oh, so after all your protests, you do want me?”

The absolute nerve of him!

Silver. You need silver, because oh good lord, big, scary vampire or not, you shan’t take this lying down a moment longer. Storming through your apartment, you rip the drawer of the hallway cabinet open, your hands scattering papers, old postcards and other assorted junk out of the way, your fingers grasping exactly what you require before marching to the sliding door and hurling it open.

“Ooooh, she’s gonna get me!” he states mockingly, holding up his hands, eyes wide.

Raising the sharp letter opener, you hold it beneath his chin, his flesh beginning to sizzle as he stiffens momentarily. “Leave me alone and I won’t take great pleasure in ramming this upwards, before I tear it down and slice your throat open, you vile sack of dead flesh!”

He looks puzzled, cocking his head a little. “That’s a little rude, to say such things to the vampire who made you come, what was it, twenty times in three hours?”

“I mean it!” you snarl, pushing the point harder, watching his smile grow.

“Do it,” he encourages, leaning closer, his eyes flashing bright, revelling in it.

“I will! I’ll fucking end you out here!”

He curls his hands around your wrists, beginning to assist in that pushing. “Darling, did your little Hungarian friend not tell you? For silver to work effectively, it has to be solid, not plated. So no, you won’t end me.” Steering your hand upwards, the letter opener pierces him, Niklas laughing maniacally the further it tears through his flesh, his mouth filling with blood as the point of it exits to the side of his tongue.

You can only stare on in horror as his cold blood trickles over your fingers, his laughter growing, booming, your nerves setting your body to quiver as he sticks his tongue out and lets the blood flow onto the floor.

“Fuck, that got me hard,” he laughs, taking the letter opener and ripping from his jaw, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter as his wounds swiftly begin to heal. “And now here you are, with no weapon, and no safety of being inside your home. Just you and me.” He leans close, tongue tickling your earlobe with a faint groan. “So, now what are you going to do?”

In truth, as your heart thunders so rapidly that you feel nauseous, you have no idea. He’s got you. You cannot return inside, because he’ll simply move rapidly enough to block your path, you can’t call out for help, because there’s nobody coming to save you here. You’re stuck, and the delight he experiences in knowing this plays all over his face.

“I... I... I...” Floundering is all you have, the shame of it pinking your cheeks, fear cording every muscle tightly.

“You... you... you...” he mocks, stroking a bloodied finger down your cheek. “This is too much fun! Aren’t you having fun?” Looming over you, he begins to walk, penning you against the wall bordering your balcony and the next, his finger sliding tantalisingly down to your neck. “I must be just as crazy as they say I am, because I’d still take you to bed and fuck you in a heartbeat, (Y/N). Even though you came out here to attack me, I would still show you a very, very good time.”

You gulp, transfixed by the intensity of his eyes, your bottom lip beginning to quiver as he leans even nearer to you, lips ghosting your neck before his tongue flickers against your pulse point.

“Give up and invite me in.”

“No.”

“Oh, she found her voice,” he whispers, beginning to scatter kisses, his hands clutching your hips gently. “Tell me you want me.”

“I don’t!”

“You still lie to me, little human.” More kisses, his thumbs stroking, skimming the top of your shorts, heat beginning to crackle beneath your skin. “Tell me you want me.”

And god, how you do. How you hate him for it, the juxtapose clashing angrily within you, his arms slipping around your waist as he presses his body into yours, melding himself with you, those kisses against your neck gaining in intensity. He wasn’t lying either, when he said he’d gotten hard.

“Tell me you want me.”

Again, that demand is spoken, followed by a faint, aroused groan, knowing he’s eroding away at your resolve. You can feel it happening, brick by brick, your will not to succumb to him crumbling like an ancient tower, your hands moving to smooth down his wide chest. Fuck, he feels good beneath your touch.

You know you’re the instigator of your own downfall, but you can’t help it. “I want you.”

His mouth lands upon yours, kissing you, a torrid blaze burning everything in its wake, knocked sideways by the force of him, the blinding allure. There it is, that feeling of a thousand tiny lights blinking into brilliance inside of you, your hands moving to his face, clutching, nails grazing his beard as your tongue rolls sensually with his.

Pulling away from the kiss, he looks down at you, a grin widening his mouth. “Maybe next time.”

He vanishes in a flash, leaving you there with your mouth agape, still trying to catch your breath as the fear and desire of it now mixes with sheer furious anger. It is not a particularly fitting alchemy.

“I fucking hate that vampire!”

Picking up the bloodied letter opener, you enter your apartment again, locking the door behind you and drawing he curtains, stirred by him so heavily you end up finishing that bottle of wine before you fall asleep, frowning into the darkness. Of course, he can feel your agitation, and it pleases him, which only means you fall asleep even angrier that night.

In the days that follow, you don’t experience too much disturbance from him, only what your own mind conjures, rapidly shaking your head as if to physically throw the memory of him from your mind whenever it enters your head. Life continues as normal, work keeping you busy, a few visits to the office breaking the monotony of the fact that since lockdown, most of the editorial staff for the magazine now work remotely.

You also have dinner plans with friends, very much looking forward to catching up with these loved ones, spending your Friday night enjoying their company over good wine and even better food, moving onto a bar afterwards. It’s late by the time you call it a night, trying to find an Uber but quickly realising you’d probably arrive home much sooner if you walked. It’s only thirty-five minutes on foot, give or take.

The built-up area of the city breaks free from the jungle of concrete, heading through the lesser dense areas but for safety’s sake, keeping to as much of the main roads as you can. There is, however, a route you must take beneath a large bridge, an elevated section of road where it is much safer to pass beneath than upon it, the traffic crazy even at that time of night.

“Hey, ‘scue me, sweetheart. Got any spare change?”

Turning, you see a man approach through the quiet gloom, one who obviously isn’t homeless, merely drunk and probably all spent out. “No, I don’t.”

Continuing to walk, you pick up the pace, knowing the man is staggering along after you.

“Looks like you have, nicely dressed woman like you,” he speaks, advancing on you. “Oi, don’t fucking ignore me! Wait, talk t’me. You’re pretty. Wanna take me home?”

“Fuck off.”

He isn’t fond of hearing that, making a grab for your arm. “Don’t be rude, babe! C’mere!”

“I said fuck off!” you shout, trying to pull yourself from his clutches, until with immediate effect you’re freed. Turning, you see the man pinned by his throat against the heavy bridge supports, Niklas growling low in his throat, that predatory rumble having its usual effect on you.

“Never touch her again.”

The man struggles, but cannot free himself of his grasp. “Who th’fuck are you and where d’ya come from?”

“Neither matter. Apologise to her.”

Again, he struggles, the grip around his neck tightening, Niklas lifting him from the floor one handed with staggering ease, the man’s eyes bulging wide. “Fuck off! Let me go!”

He raises his eyebrows, nodding in your direction. “She told you the same, and yet you didn’t. Why should I, hmm?”

“Because you’re a fucking psycho!”

That rouses a wide grin. “Correct.” He then makes a beckoning motion with his hand in your direction. Walking over, you stop reasonably close to him, Niklas physically turning the man’s head in your direction. “Apologise, and I will let you go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Oh, he’s having too much fun, playing with him. At least it isn’t you for a change. “For grabbing you.”

Niklas turns to you, raising his eyebrows. “Happy?”

“I suppose,” you nod, folding your arms.

“See?” he grins at the man. “That’s all you had to do.” With one swift movement, the man is hurled through the air like a human javelin, coming to a thudded half against one of the other support pillars about ten feet away, grunting when he hits the ground. Niklas then turns to you, extending his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You look between him and the hand a few times, your hesitation earning an eye roll. “I can be gentlemanly when I want to be, (Y/N). Let me walk you home.”

“Fine,” you pout, “but I’m not holding your hand. I know your reasons for helping me weren’t borne of any benevolence.”

A single eyebrow arches high. “Then tell me, what were they borne of?”

“I desire to get between my legs, changing tactics since you know being a shit about it doesn’t sway me.”

He hums a chuckle as you begin to walk, pressing a hand to your shoulder. “But it does, though. It worked last time, didn’t it?” He’s got you there. Bastard. “I can be quite a decent vampire when I set my mind to it. Women like you shouldn’t have to suffer nuisances like him.”

“No,” you scoff, looking up at your undead companion, “I only have to suffer the nuisance currently at my side.” He laughs, and you walk together silently for a few seconds, before the question you’ve had burning away on the tip of your tongue finally flutters out. “Why me?”

“Why not you?”

Of course, he’s going to be difficult about it. “You must have a slew of other women you can call upon for sex. Why me? Why play the games?”

“Not just women,” he corrects with a wink. No, you wouldn’t put that past him at all; to confirm he’d fuck anything with a pulse. “Because you are interesting. You’re also an amazing fuck, and my fucking dark lord below... that ass. I could chip a fang on that ass.”

“You know, leading with that would have made you way less irritating to me than you have been,” you quip, crossing the road, noting the way he touches a protective hand to your lower back. This Niklas, he’s much more in line with how he was when you interviewed him, and you hate that you like it so much.

“I could have, you’re right,” he begins, smirking. “Where would the fun be in that, though?”

“It isn’t much fun for me.”

“It isn’t supposed to be, but it is for me.”

He’s so fucking insufferable! “Menace.”

“Hmm, I've been called much worse. I’ll take that.” Looking down at you, he witnesses you trying desperately not to find the humour in that, giving you a soft dig with his elbow. “Come on, crack your face. You know you want to. Plus, you have a pretty smile.”

Oh, fuck him. Fucking fuck him all the way to hell, the corners of your mouth turning up.

“That’s a fucking grimace. You look constipated.”

The snort of laughter his words pull from you cannot be contained, and yes, beneath it you’re furious with him for it. Yourself, too, for weakening your resolve. “See? Much better,” he speaks, turning his gaze from you up towards the sky. “There’s a storm on the way. The thunder is rumbling.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” you speak.

“Your ears wouldn’t have picked up on it. It’s a way off. Look at the clouds, it’ll be here soon.” Reaching for you, he lifts you into his arms. “Hold on tightly.”

You do, experiencing the feeling of what it must be like to get shot out of a canon, a total of three seconds passing before he’s placing you back upon your feet at your front door.

“There, your vampire delivery service has successfully deposited the cargo at its correct address,” he begins, reaching to run his fingers in a circle at the side of your neck. “I’ve behaved myself. Do I get to be invited in, so I can change that?”

The wink he accompanies those words with makes your heart skip on a couple of beats, your resolve once again weakening. If only he wasn’t so fucking hot. If only he wasn’t the best sex of your life. If only he wasn’t a temperamental, head-fucking, yet staggeringly charismatic vampire. You might have stood a chance.

When his mouth locks upon yours, that tentative resolve fractures to pieces.

“Come in.” you speak between kisses, wondering if this will be a decision you’ll come to regret once you’re no longer blinded by feral desire. Or rather, once he reverts to the more nefarious side of his nature. You’re half herded, half dragging him along, discarded clothes forming a trail through your apartment, Niklas lifting you, fingers dug hard into your thighs.

Your back hits the wall, his mouth devouring yours, practically eating your face with the hunger coursing through him. It knocks the breath from you, the feel of his icy skin pressed tight against your warmth a sensation you never thought you’d come to crave, yet experiencing it again makes you realise just how much you longed for it.

The route to your bedroom is recommenced, Niklas kicking the door open, the entanglement of you and him hitting the mattress with a thud. It’s wildly carnivorous, kisses virtually ripped from your lips, his mouth descending, pressing against your throat like brandings searing hot, preceding the true burn, his fangs popping out.

You cling tight to him as the bite locks onto you like a wolf devouring its kill, the thrill of it sending goose pimples charging across your skin like a herd of wild horses. The sensation of him feeding upon you feels like a thousand thunderstorms striking beneath your skin, blindingly erotic, more so than anyone could comprehend without experiencing it.

His is a touch that casts silent, wordless spells upon your body, knowing it in a way you’re not even sure you do, mouth descending to settle at your apex, closing over your slit and sucking with a hungry grunt of satisfaction. Cool licks meet the heat of your petals, his fingers digging into the soft of your thighs hard, leaving red crescents upon your skin as your hips shudder against his mouth.

It’s as if smouldering embers replace the vertebrae of your spine, glowing one by one as his tongue circles in slow firmness to begin with, speeding up, faster, faster... oh, fuck. The rapidity has you clutching the sides of his shaven head, his skin temporarily clawed red by the drag of your nails, your muscles tensing from the duality of it being too much, but somehow not enough.

Your first orgasm hits you like the storm that’s beginning to swirl overhead, bolts of light cracking the sky as rain patters against the windowpanes, your body shivering, the mouth between your legs granting no clemency. He continues, devouring you like a man half starved, hands trawling your curves to settle upon your breasts, groaning against your folds as his tongue laves at you firmly.

“Niklas, you need to stop,” you pant, watching him suck on you firmly, shaking his head.

“I’m happy where I am.”

“But you can’t fuck my mouth while you’re down there.”

Oh, that caught his attention. His grin widens, deeply sinister but sexy as hell, a rumbling chuckle filling the room. “Dirty girl. I like it, but later. First, I will ruin you.”

Standard with him, really, his mouth reconnecting once more.

The wet drag of each lick languidly rolls through your slit, up to your clit again, circling, nudging, glimmers skittering through you when he aims his next suck right there. Your little bud is sucked plumper before being bathed in the fast beating of his tongue. Fast… faster… faster… oh… how is he real?

Your body arches off the bed, toes curling, an orb of fire rolling through your groin before boom, it explodes, your legs wrapping around his head, feeling your clit throbbing against his tongue. He truly meant it when he stated that he’d ruin you, because once again, he doesn’t cease. With an aroused moan, he closes his mouth around you, hands continuing to stroke your curves, holding you still when your hips begin to purl against his face.

There’s no other way to explain it, he has you lost in pleasure, unmoored, adrift on the wide, dark sea that is the vampire between your legs, your body quivering as the hum of your energy mingling with his flows unabatingly. He has you cresting a third time before moving to kneel before you, drawing your legs up over his shoulders, sinking every last inch of his thick cock into your heat, transfixing, a shudder of excitement ripping his tattooed form.

The way vampires move, it’s so different to humans, something hypnotic that you truly can’t describe, but will never tire of seeing, experiencing as he roots himself in the plush of your cunt again and again.

Otherworldly is perhaps the best way you could coin it, just like him, coupled with the noises he makes, that guttural growl that’s far from human, a beastly rumble that never fails to set your insides to blaze. You hiss at the ebullience of it, nails raking his chest, his cock snagging against the tight clutch of you.

He’s heavy and wide within you, wracked by muscles cording, jumping under goose pimpled flesh. He speeds up, spearing you deeply, the flex of your heat around him making pleasure tumble through his deadness, sparking light through the dark of him. His body falls to yours, gripping your hips hard, another flash of lightning illuminating the room, his tongue running up your throat as he groans eerily, biting your earlobe.

Grasping your jaw, he turns your head with a swift jerk, something seeming to soften in him for just a fraction of a second when he kisses you.

“You...” he begins, hand moving to clutch your throat, “are perhaps the most beautiful woman I have been with in a long time.”

High praise, coming from a vampire who likely has an entire harem on standby. That little display of tenderness goes just as quickly as it came, though, Niklas pulling you up so you’re sat astride him, one hand remaining in a tight clasp upon your throat, the other beginning to lay rapid, hard spanks to your bum.

He fucks up into you with brutal force, your own hips rutting against his in a roll so deliciously serpentine, you have him feeling mindless at the way you fuck him back. The pleasure is biting and powerful, like a summer tempest winding tight, rolling over you both without pause in a ceaseless continuation, gaining the same heavy momentum as the storm that rages on outside.

Except what you and Niklas share that night far outlasts the thunder storm, your body once again ravaged beyond comprehension, until you’re tired and sore, finally coming to rest at somewhere close to 2am. Unlike last time, though, he doesn’t leave right away. It’s almost alien to you, lying there atop his body, feeling his fingers stroke swirls up and down your spine as you recover.

Turning you onto your side as your eyes grow heavy, he stares at you for a long moment, his fingertip stroking just above your eyebrow. You blink, and it’s in that moment he vanishes, something in you expecting he’d leave wordlessly just like the last time. It’s his nature not to hang around.

In the days that follow, you wait for his mind games to resume, his presence to come crashing into your dreams, but to your surprise, it never happens. Three months pass and the link to him through your blood fades to nothing at all, life continuing like he never came into it.

Exiting your apartment one morning a further month along from then, you almost kick over the bottle that’s been placed outside your door, bending to pick it up. Tefethen Family Vineyards Merlot; 2018, with a note attached.

‘It would be unfair for you to return to the bore of a human lover now you’ve had me. If you want me again, call the number below. If I can, I will be there before you’ve even hung up. If not, then you are plainly stupid and have no idea what is good for you.

You aren’t stupid though, are you?

N.’

No, you’re definitely not. Still, though, you make him wait a further month before calling.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining #shining band #black metal

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