kitkatkitzune

[kitkatkitzune]

OVERPROTECTIVE

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!reader

Summary: Jace is worried about letting you get too close to Vermax.

Warnings: Daemon being Daemon, Inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (this should be expected by now.)

Notes: Reader is from an unspecified noble house and Luke is alive because I said so!!

Word Count: 2.1k

MASTER POST ,

———————

Ever since you were a child you had been fascinated by dragons. To you, they were the most beautiful creatures that had ever existed. However, you had never actually seen a dragon. You would see pictures of them in the books you’d read and dreamed of getting to see one in person.

As it turns out, your wish would be granted. After King Viserys’ death, a struggle for the crown would begin. In order to gain new allies, Queen Rhaenyra proposed that you would marry her oldest son, Jacaerys. Your father eagerly accepted the offer and just like that, you were shipped off to Dragonstone.

Jace was kind and respectful towards you, not to mention he was absolutely gorgeous. He told you he didn’t expect you to blindly obey him and that he would never command anything of you without reason. Infact, he only set one rule, no dragons.

You tried to protest, saying that you didn’t even need to be so close to them, that you simply wanted to look from afar but he would not even allow you that. His rule came out of a place of concern, he was worried for your safety. Dragons could be incredibly dangerous and as the days went on, he got to know you better and fell even further in love. He became even more protective.

So instead, you would stand by the windows and watch as the dragons flew around. The claimed and unclaimed alike would fly all throughout the day, far up in the sky, it was as if they were in their own world. But everyday, multiple times a day, someone would be tasked with flying around Dragonstone to patrol the area. Some days, it would be Baela on Moondancer. Others it was Rhaenys on Meleys. Sometimes it was even Lucaerys and Arrax.

Your favorite thing to do was sit outside, either on the rocks or the sand and listen to the different roars of the dragons as you watched. You noted that Caraxes sounded much different from the others and you wondered if it had something to do with the beast's long neck. You were never outside for long before Jace would find you and ask for you to come inside. Sometimes, if he was busy, he would send Luke or Rhaena. He had asked Baela once but she told him if she went out there, she’d take you for a ride on Moondancer. He went and got you himself that day.

You had been sitting on a large rock outside like any other day when Daemon approached you. He was getting ready to patrol on dragonback.

“Lady Y/N,” he greeted, making you look up from your book.

You smiled, nodding your head, “Your grace.”

He smirks, “I wish to ask you if you’d accompany me to the dragon pit today, I see how you admire the dragons from afar but wouldn’t it be so much better to see one up close?”

You can’t help the way you perk up at his offer, but you instantly sigh remembering your bethrothed’s one rule, “I would love to, your grace—“

He holds his hand up, cutting you off, “Please, we are to be family soon, call me Daemon.”

“Daemon,” you clear your throat, “Prince Jacaerys has made it clear that I am to avoid the dragon pit… for my safety.”

He rolls his eyes, “Jacaerys does not control you, besides, I will be there with you, no harm will come to you.”

You nibble your lip, “He really does worry…”

Daemon clicks his tongue, “Did I not just say that I would not allow you to be hurt? Now, would you like to see Caraxes?”

“I would love to…” you breathe out, still worried about Jace.

“Then come now,” he offers you his hand, when you hesitate he smiles and speaks teasingly, “don’t make me command you as your king.”

“Māzīs Caraxes, māzīs,” Daemon called out into the dark. [Come Caraxes, come.]

Slowly, Caraxes stepped into the light causing you to gasp. The dragon lets out a roar and Daemon chuckles.

“Incredible…” you mutter before clearing your throat, “his roar… it’s uh, much different from the others I’ve heard, is that due to his neck?”

Daemon grins at you, “You’re very clever,” he then turns his attention back to his dragon, “lykirī Caraxes, demās, demās.” [be calm Caraxes, sit, sit.]

Caraxes complies with the commands Daemon asks and sinks lower to the ground, breathing out a huff of air, you can feel the warmth even from your current distance.

Daemon approaches the dragon, bringing his hand up to the side of the beast's head, he whispers to him in High Valyrian. You could not hear what he was saying and even if you could you wouldn’t understand but you assume it was more reassurance.

After what feels like ages, Daemon steps away from Caraxes and looks at you, “You may approach.”

You take a deep breath and take a few slow steps forward, annoyed by your speed, Daemon grabs your wrist and drags you forward, making you yelp.

He holds your wrist near Caraxes’ snout, “Allow him to learn your scent.”

You remain as still as possible, watching Caraxes’ expression as he sniffs your wrist. You can feel the warmth of his breath on you, it’s nearly scalding. Caraxes lets out a noise and Daemon chuckles.

“He’ll allow you to touch him.”

“Are you sure?” you squeak out, shocked.

He nods, “Yes, very.”

Shaking slightly, you raise your hand to the side of Caraxes’ head just as Daemon had done moments ago. You then raise your other hand to the other side of his head. you let out a giggle when the Blood Wyrm lets out a breath, pushing his head further into your hands, trying to touch his head to yours.

“He likes you,” Daemon murmurs.

You hum, “I am glad, my betrothed would be sad if I was eaten.”

He chuckles, “He would be,” Daemon pauses as a smirk begins to creep onto his face, “Tell me, Lady Y/N, how much do you know about us Targaryens and our dragons?”

“Not much…” you mumble, petting Caraxes’ scaly skin, “just that you bond with them, communicate in High Valyrian, and can ride them…”

He hums, stepping a bit closer, gesturing towards your stomach, “Well… when the prince puts a babe in you—“

Your face immediately flushes at his vulgar words and you let out a squeak making him chuckle before continuing, “a bit before you give birth, he will pick a dragon egg for the babe… the child and the egg will share a crib, allowing the two to form an even stronger bond.”

You clear your throat, trying to find your voice, “That is…interesting, informative…”

Daemon chuckles and Caraxes huffs out more air, almost like he was communicating with his rider.

“He’ll let you ride him.”

Forgetting your previous embarrassment, you drop your hands from Caraxes, laughing a bit as he tries to nudge his head towards you, you’re shocked as you stare at Daemon, “Really?”

He nods, “Would you like to?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Jacaerys announces his arrival, his hand on the hilt of his sword, “she would not.”

“Jace—“ you begin but are cut off by Daemon.

“Jacaerys, that question wasn’t for you,” Daemon smirks, clearly glad to have gotten under the boy's skin.

Your betrothed glares at Daemon before looking at you, his gaze softens just a bit but you can still see the fire in his eyes, “My love, I have been searching for you, please, come with me now.”

Caraxes lets out a noise that sounds as though he is annoyed. Daemon quickly calms the dragon and you shoot him a small smile before taking Jace’s hand and allowing him to lead you out of the dragon pit.

When he finally let go of your hand, you were far away from the dragon pit and in your chambers.

“My prince, is this proper?” you ask quietly.

He practically scoffs, “I have told you many times to call me Jacaerys or Jace, there is no need for such formal titles since we are to be wed- which might I add, is why my being in your chambers is not so improper.”

“Are you…” you take a breath, “are you angry with me?”

Jace sighs and brings his hand up to your cheek, speaking softly, “No, my love, I was simply worried… I know I should trust Daemon but I don’t like you being alone with him, that’s not mentioning the fact you were so close to a dragon… ”

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“I know, dear, I know,” he pulls you into a hug, holding your head to his chest, “you find the dragons beautiful… and I, I am very protective…” he pulls back and presses a kiss to your forehead.

You frown slightly, using your hands to cup his face, “It is not just the dragons, Jace… I want to understand the bond you have with Vermax, I want to understand your culture… I want to understand you.”

Feeling shy, you look to the ground. Jace is silent for what seems like hours before finally answering.

“I suppose it is true I should have introduced you to Vermax long ago.”

You look up at him, a hopeful glint in your eyes, “Really?”

He hums, “I can not keep you from him forever… and there is an old belief that dragons can feel their riders ‘mates’, that they become just as protective of them as they are with their riders.”

A small grin finds its way to your face, “Then I suppose I’ll have two overprotective dragons looking after me.”

“I suppose you will,” he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Jace introduced you to Vermax soon after, the dragon immediately took a liking to you. He nuzzled against your hands, bumped his head on yours, and would cry when you’d leave. It was clear that the dragon had instantly bonded to you and that became even more abundantly clear when the beast began to seek you out.

You had been sitting in the grass, reading when you heard Vermax roar from above you. Normally he would simply be flying around Dragonstone with the others but today he was looking for you. The dragon landed near you causing the ground to shake. For a moment you were fearful, but then you remembered how Vermax had previously behaved with you and that fear dwindled. He began to crawl towards you and once he was close enough, you reached out to touch the side of his head. Vermax let out a sound of content and laid down in the grass. The dragon began to curl his body around you, there was no doubt that you would smell like dragon later.

Vermax dropped his head near your leg, careful not to crush you under the weight. You opened up your book and began to read once more, you hadn’t even realized you had been outside for so long until Jace found you. Actually, you hadn’t realized he had approached until he spoke.

“I’m beginning to think you’re only marrying me for my dragon.”

You look up at him, “No, I’m marrying you because my Lord father commanded it and I was given no choice.“

There’s a moment of silence before you begin to giggle, much to Jace’s relief, “I’m only jesting, Jace… Perhaps… it was simply out of duty at first but… I find myself more in love with you with every day that passes.”

Warmth begins to creep up Jace’s neck and onto his cheeks, making you laugh again.

You pat the ground next to you, “Come, sit with us.”

Vermax lets out a rumble as Jace sits next to you. The dragon puffs out air, seemingly annoyed.

“Now I’m starting to think he likes you more than he likes me.”

You bump your shoulder against Jaces, “Don’t be silly, my love, he is only protective.”

“He should be protecting you from threats, not me who simply wants to see his beautiful bethrothed.”

“Well, maybe he’s the jealous type… they do say dragons often display behavior similar to their riders.”

Jace huffs, “I was not jealous, regardless, it is almost time to sup, we must be going inside now.”

The prince stands up and offers you his hand and when you take it, Vermax lets out a whine.

Jace chuckles at his dragons clingy behavior, although he knows he shouldn’t. After all, he behaves the same way.

[kitkatkitzune]

Rebekah is still in the house btw. I’d be terrified

I just read your latest fic and omg! I love your writing style and the way you write the reader as a virgin is chefs kiss! Okay now I feel like we need a Klaus x virgin!Reader fic from you to complete the set. I don't have any ideas on the scenario so hopefully your brilliant mind can come up with something or you can combine it with another request? But can the reader be like 25+ (only because that's around the age that I imagine Klaus to be) and life just happened and life with the Original Vampires never really left room for relationships and she didn't want to just fuck some random stranger for her first time?

Dreams

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

{Klaus Mikaelson x f!reader} A drunken confession leads to an unexpected night with Klaus, where fantasy blurs into reality, and your first time becomes unforgettable.

♡♡ thanks for the request beautiful anon!!! &&.. you are right I have to complete the set ~xo ♡♡

3.9k words - Warnings: smuttt, first time, virgin!reader, teasing, oral sex (f!receiving), drunk Rebekah, sex dream confessions, reader insecurity && Klaus being sweet...

“I swear on my eternity, I won’t tell a soul,” Rebekah promised, eyes wide and wine-glossed.

You squinted at her. “You said that last time.”

“That was about stealing from Elijah’s wine stash. This is your sex life. Entirely different. Totally private.” She drained the dregs of her glass, then held it out. You refilled it, trying not to roll your eyes.

“What sex life?” You muttered.

Rebekah gave you a look, all wide-eyed and scandalised, “You mean to tell me,” she began, dramatically setting her wineglass down like the stem offended her, “you’ve never...wait. Not even once?”

You groaned, already regretting everything. “Can we not...”

“Not even a casual drunken hookup?” she pressed, scandalized. “You’re twenty-seven.”

“Exactly. And busy. And constantly surrounded by immortal egomaniacs with god complexes,” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. “Not exactly a dating pool.”

“And yet,” she said, one brow arching like a knife, “you’ve had plenty of time to dream about my brother bending you over every surface in the compound.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What did you just say? You said you wouldn't tell anyone about that!"

Rebekah shrugged, a mischievous smile playing over her lips. "It was a slip of the tongue."

You groaned again.

She nudged your ankle with her bare foot. "Don't be embarrassed. It's actually rather endearing that you've got such a schoolgirl crush."

"It's not a crush. I don't know what it is," you confessed. "They just happen, okay? It's not like I want them to. But the suddenly he's there, and the next thing I know... he's not wearing any clothes, and we're kissing, and-"

"Okay," Rebekah interrupted, "you don't have to go into detail. I'm quite certain I can imagine what happens next."

"Well, that makes one of us."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have any idea what the rest of it would feel like," you said, voice small. You picked up the bottle and took a swig straight from it.

Rebekah gave you a sympathetic look, reaching for your hand. "I'm sure you'll find a lovely guy soon enough… and have lots of sex."

"Whose having lots of sex?"

You froze, bottle still tilted in your hand.

Rebekah went very still beside you. Her grip on your fingers tightened just slightly..whether in apology or panic, you couldn’t tell.

Slowly, mechanically, you turned your head toward the sound of Klaus’s voice.

He stood in the doorway to the parlour, arms folded loosely over his chest, one brow lifted in open amusement. His curls were tousled, his shirt half-unbuttoned, and his smile... that was the real danger. Lazy, knowing, smug. The kind of smile a man wore when he already knew the answer to the question he’d just asked.

“Rebekah?” he prompted, his gaze flicking to his sister, who stared back at him like a deer caught in vampire headlights.

She cleared her throat. “Oh, you know. Just girl talk.”

He stepped further into the room, his gaze settling on you. You looked away, pretending to be fascinated by a loose thread in the cushion beside you. He chuckled and flopped down beside Rebekah, sprawling his legs out, taking up every inch of space, a king on his throne.

For a moment, there was silence, punctuated by the faint sounds of jazz music spilling through the windows and the clink of the bottle against your teeth as you took another sip.

You set the bottle down a little too hard. “I should go.”

Rebekah gave a weak little laugh, clearly trying to help but already retreating. “Oh, don’t be dramatic-”

“No, really,” you cut in, rising so quickly your foot caught on the edge of the rug. You stumbled, recovered, didn’t look at either of them. “It’s late. I’m tired. And apparently incapable of keeping my mouth shut when wine is involved.”

Rebekah made a soft, protesting sound, but didn’t move to stop you. And you rushed towards the front door as fast as you could without looking like a total fool.

A shadow flickered at the edge of your vision, and you turned, pulse skipping. A figure leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, mouth quirked up in a knowing smile.

Klaus. Of course it was Klaus.

He blocked the way. The hallway felt suddenly narrower, the air heavier, as you came to a stumbling halt. Your cheeks burned, your heart pounding. He raised an eyebrow, smile deepening. He had a dimple. Somehow, it only made him more handsome.

"Running away, love?" he asked, tone smooth as silk.

"No." You answered too quickly, voice tight. "Just tired. Need sleep. Goodnight."

He did not move. Instead, his smile widened. You stepped sideways, trying to slip past, but he shifted effortlessly, mirroring you. Casual. Precise. Unyielding.

Your glare sharpened, but he only looked more amused.

"What?" you snapped, folding your arms.

"Are you really leaving because of what I overheard?"

You stared at him, defiant but humiliated. "What do you think?"

"I think there is no need to be embarrassed," he said, voice low and husky.

"Embarrassed?" You let out a weak laugh, shifting again, eyes darting toward the exit he was blocking.

“There is nothing wrong with a healthy sex drive, sweetheart.”

“There is also nothing wrong with wanting to die when someone overhears you talking about said sex drive.”

He chuckled and stepped closer.

Your back hit the wall. The impact was gentle, but it still made you flinch. You stiffened, shoulders locking, spine straightening as if you could will yourself invisible. You refused to shrink away.

Klaus stopped in front of you, gaze locked to yours. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, little dreamer,” he said, voice like smoke curling through the dark.

You swallowed hard. The heat in your face crept down your throat, coiling in your chest and belly. Every inch of you felt laid bare.

“Please move.”

“In a minute.”

“Nik.”

He leaned in, his face impossibly close, his lips almost brushing your cheek. “I'll tell you a secret,” he said. “If you stop blushing and look me in the eyes.”

You hesitated, then obeyed. Slowly, you lifted your gaze. His eyes burned into yours and he smiled, slow and sweet. The kind of smile that could undo you.

“Better.”

You felt your breath catch. “What is your secret?” you whispered.

“I have had dreams about you too.” His fingers found your jaw and traced the line of it, featherlight. “About this pretty mouth. These soft hands. What I might find if I peeled off all your layers and tasted the skin beneath.”

“Stop,” you said, but there was no force behind it. Your voice cracked. Your face burned. You could barely breathe.

He did not laugh. He did not push. He just watched you.

His eyes searched yours, then dropped briefly to your mouth. “Why have you never done it?” he asked, voice quieter now, stripped of any teasing.

You blinked. “What?”

Klaus tilted his head, expression softer than you had ever seen it. “You said you have never had sex. Not even once. Why?”

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know. Life. Bad timing. Shitty options.” You shrugged. “And maybe…” You hesitated. “Maybe I didn’t want my first time to be with someone who’d forget it five minutes later.”

Klaus’ smirk faded... not all the way, but enough that something earnest slipped through. Something sharp. “And you think I would?”

You looked up at him then, finally. He was watching you carefully. No teasing. Just quiet, simmering intensity.

“I don’t know what you’d do.”

He reached out, brushing his knuckles gently along your cheek. “Then let me show you.”

You swallowed.

He stepped closer, his palm curving over your cheek, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes. He was smiling again, but there was something different about it. Something gentler.

"I would never disrespect your trust, sweetheart," he promised, thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "Nor would I ever treat the privilege of being your first anything lightly."

"And you..." Your voice faltered, but his touch was warm, and his gaze was steady. "You won't ...tell anyone? About any of this?"

He smiled. "I wouldn't dare."

"Okay," you whispered, and his lips were suddenly so close, and his arms were slipping around you, and you could smell the spice of his cologne and the sweetness of bourbon and feel the warmth of his breath.

"Okay," he echoed, his lips brushing yours, then his tongue, teasing your mouth open, tasting you. You gasped, and he made a soft, satisfied sound, pressing closer, his body molding to yours.

"Is this alright, love?" he murmured, one hand sliding down your spine, curving over the swell of your ass.

You nodded.

"Need to hear you say it, sweetheart," he said.

You swallowed, meeting his eyes. "Yes."

He smiled and kissed you again, his hands seeking yours, fingers intertwining. Then he broke the kiss, gently tugging you by the hand as he led you down the hall. His room was dim, draped in shadows. You saw glimpses of a large bed, an easel, a wall of books. 

Then the door closed, and it was just you and him.

You hesitated, not sure what to do, how to move. He seemed to understand, reaching for you again, gathering you close to him by the waist.

"Relax," he said, kissing the side of your neck. "Your heart is racing."

You laughed weakly. "Can't really help it."

"Do I scare you?"

"No," you answered, a little too quickly.

He smirked, catching the lie.

"It's just..." You shrugged, feeling like a silly little girl. "This is a big deal."

"It is," he agreed.

"But I... I'm not completely clueless. I mean, I have internet. And books. And..." You blushed, realizing you were rambling.

Klaus's expression was somewhere between amused and fond. He leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth.

"Sweetheart, I am well aware of the fact that you've spent an indecent amount of time imagining me naked and writhing on top of you."

You blushed hotly. "I was not -"

He chuckled and began to back you towards the bed, his hands skimming your waist, the curve of your hips. "I know the sorts of things that are on your mind," he murmured.

You stumbled, falling back against the mattress, and he followed you down, covering your body with his, surrounding you in heat and skin and steady breath. One of his hands braced by your head, the other slipping beneath you to curve around your hip, grounding you.

You tilted your chin and met his mouth again before he could say something else smug. He hummed against your lips, amused but pleased, letting you set the pace for a few heartbeats. Then he caught your lower lip between his teeth and nipped gently, his hand sliding up the hem of your shirt, spreading heat across your stomach.

"Still okay, sweetheart?" He whispered.

"Mhm," you managed, gasping when his teeth grazed the delicate shell of your ear.

He leaned back, just far enough to tug off his shirt. You bit your lip, tracing the shape of the tattoo, heat creeping through you, pooling between your thighs. He watched you, his gaze warm, his eyes bright. He smiled when he caught you staring at the trail of hair that led down his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans.

"Now your turn," he said.

You hesitated, heart fluttering, a sudden spike of nervousness. But Klaus didn't rush you. Just waited, smiling, patient and steady.

Slowly, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and tugged it over your head.

His breath caught.

His pupils dilated.

And then, slowly, his hand found yours again. "May I?"

You nodded.

His knuckles traced the curve of your jaw, then brushed lightly along the hollow of your throat. Slowly, slowly, slowly, his palm flattened against the space between your collarbones, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the edge of your bra.

Your breath hitched.

"So soft," he murmured. His fingers slid over the swell of your breasts, then down, finding the catch. You heard the fabric tear and felt the lace pull free, the sudden rush of cool air and warmth from his hands making you gasp.

Klaus groaned, leaning down, his breath ghosting across your bare chest. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on," he murmured. Then his mouth was closing over your nipple, and you arched against him, moaning.

"You like that?" he asked, his tongue flicking the hard little nub.

"Mmmhm."

He chuckled, then sucked gently.

You whimpered, squirming.

"Still okay, love?" He asked, pausing, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"Don't stop."

"Bossy," he teased, smirking, moving to the other side.

He lavished the same attention there, his tongue swirling, his lips tugging, his hand stroking the underside, squeezing, massaging. You moaned and whimpered, clutching his hair, arching up against him, seeking pressure, friction. He pressed closer, you could feel his erection straining against the denim, his hips moving in time with his tongue.

He kissed the soft valley between your breasts, then began to trail his mouth lower, leaving a burning path in his wake. He pulled your jeans down with agonizing slowness, his mouth following, until his lips were at the apex of your thighs. Your hands clutched the sheets, breath catching as the tension that had been building all night surged forward all at once. Pure need, panic, heat, all tangled together in your chest.

“Nik...wait.”

He froze instantly. His hands paused on your hips, his mouth barely brushing your inner thigh.

His head lifted. “Too fast?”

You shook your head. “No. I just…” You swallowed. “You don’t have to do that.”

A wicked grin spread across his face. He leaned down, nuzzling the damp spot on your panties, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice dropped, rough and low. “Who told you that?”

You tried to sit up, flustered. “It’s just...I know that’s not always... expected. Especially for a first time.”

Klaus moved before you could finish the thought, pushing you back down. He moved slowly, deliberately, crawling back up the length of your body, pinning you beneath him, his lips brushing yours.

“You think I brought you here, laid you out on my bed, listened to those little noises you make...” his hips rolled gently into yours, enough for you to feel the thick press of him through his jeans, “...just to skip the part where I get to taste you?"

He kissed you again, his tongue parting your lips, his teeth grazing, nipping, sucking. You moaned into his mouth, and he rolled his hips against yours again, harder.

"Do you like the way I taste?" He asked, his voice a low purr.

You nodded, dizzy, unable to think.

"So why wouldn't I want the same?" He whispered, kissing a trail down your jaw, your neck, your chest, settling back between your thighs. "Why wouldn't I want to know what you taste like when you come on my tongue?"

Your whole body burned. You stared at him, unable to form words.

He smiled. Slowly, deliberately, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, sliding them past your knees, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder.

You felt his breath, hot and gentle, on your bare skin.

"So beautiful," he murmured. His hands parted your thighs, revealing the most intimate parts of you, all slick and swollen and wanting.

He made a low, hungry sound, then dragged his tongue through the length of you, looking up at you from beneath those lashes.

"That's it," he murmured. "Look at me. Look at what I'm doing to you."

You kept your eyes open, heavy, hooded, watching his tongue slide through you again, and again, his lips closing over your clit, sucking gently, his tongue swirling, his stubble rubbing. It was too much, the sight of him, the sound of him, the smell of him, the feel of him. You felt like you were unraveling.

He made a soft, humming sound. His hand left your thigh, his fingers sliding inside you. Your head fell back, your eyes squeezing shut, a broken moan leaving your throat.

"Keep looking, love," he said.

You managed to open your eyes, looking down the length of your body at him. His eyes were bright, focused, fixed on you. His mouth was curled in a smile, his tongue still tracing the hard little bud between your legs. Your body responded, bucking, twisting, writhing, pleasure rolling through you in waves, growing stronger, hotter.

"Oh," you gasped. "Oh, god."

"No," he murmured. "Just Klaus."

He pressed deeper, crooked his fingers, and you were gone. Your head fell back, the pleasure crashing over you, drowning you. Your whole body tensed, trembled, your thighs clamped down on either side of his head. He kept working you through it, his tongue still swirling, his fingers pumping, dragging out the release until you were boneless and limp, sinking into the mattress.

Klaus rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a wolfish smile playing across his lips. "Delicious," he purred.

You managed a weak smile, your cheeks burning, your breathing still coming in ragged, shallow gasps. He sat back on his knees, his hands working at the button on his jeans.

"I can-" You began, trying to push yourself up.

"Shhh," he soothed, "I've got it, love. Lie back. Relax."

"But…"

"If I let you touch me now, I won't last long," he confessed, pushing the denim and his boxers down his hips, revealing all of himself. You were momentarily distracted by the flex of muscle, the perfect expanse of warm skin pressing into yours.

Then his hands were back on your thighs, spreading you open, positioning himself. You felt the blunt head of him slide through your wetness, and you gasped. You had imagined this moment. Dreamed of it an embarrassing amount of times. Woken up sweaty and panting, aching between your legs, wishing he were there to take care of it. And now, finally, you were going to get the chance to feel him. To really feel him.

"Look at me," he said, his hand cupping your cheek.

Your eyes flicked up to his.

"Breathe."

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to relax.

"That's it," he praised, pressing deeper. He was beautiful, his chest and shoulders flexing, muscles coiled and trembling, the effort of being gentle written in the lines on his forehead.

You felt a twinge of pain, a pinch, then the ache and stretch as your body yielded to him, the pressure and the heat, the sensation of fullness. You gasped, and his hand found yours, tangling your fingers together. He pressed a little deeper, his teeth scraping over the delicate curve where your neck met your shoulder. You whined, clutching at him.

"Easy," he soothed, "you're doing so well, love. So good."

Your cheeks flushed, a strange swell of pride blooming in your chest. You tilted your head, exposing more of your neck.

"Please," you gasped.

"Please, what?"

"Kiss me."

"Like this?" His lips ghosted over your collarbone, his lips curving upward. "Right here?"

"No. Yes. Higher."

"Here?" His lips skimmed the hollow of your throat, his smile growing.

You let out a soft, impatient whine.

"Or here?" He kissed the corner of your mouth, smiling, smug.

You made a soft, frustrated sound and caught his mouth, kissing him hungrily. He made a pleased hum and returned the kiss, his tongue stroking, his teeth nipping, his lips claiming. His hips rolled gently, and you gasped.

"That's it," he purred.

You moaned, your legs wrapping around him, drawing him deeper, wanting more. He gave a breathless laugh, and moved faster, the pace changing, deepening, until his hips were slamming into yours, the room filling with the sounds of skin on skin, his low, guttural groans, the high, breathless sounds spilling from your own lips.

The pressure was building fast. Too fast, too strong. Your body felt like it couldn’t contain it, like everything inside you was tightening, winding tighter with every thrust, every graze of his chest against your breasts, every filthy word murmured against your skin.

Your nails dug into his back, and his fingers found your clit again, circling fast and perfect.

"Yes, love, that's it, just like that."

That did it.

You shattered.

The orgasm hit like lightning. Sharp, consuming, full-body. You cried out, legs tightening around him, entire body shaking as the waves crashed through you.

Klaus groaned into your mouth, slamming into you one last time before he spilled inside you with a curse and a growl that sounded like it had been pulled from the pit of his chest. His whole body shuddered, muscles flexing, arms locked around you as he buried his face in your neck, his mouth sucking a mark into the soft, delicate skin, his breath warm and ragged against you.

The room was quiet after that, nothing but the sound of his breath and yours, the distant rumble of a passing car, the ticking of a clock. You felt drunk, your body heavy and warm and sated, your head spinning. Klaus rolled to the side, his arm still thrown over your middle. He tugged you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You blinked up at him, dazed. “I think you scrambled my brain.”

He laughed.

Your cheeks burned, and you buried your face against his chest.

He caught your chin, forcing you to look at him. He was grinning, and his cheeks were flushed. He leaned in, kissing you again, the smile never fading.

"So," he said, when he pulled away, his hand tracing lazy circles along your back. "Any regrets?"

You shook your head.

He grinned, and rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath him, his hands finding yours.

"Good," he said, kissing your nose. "Because we're only just getting started."

You swallowed. "Only?"

"Well, you have a lot to catch up on, sweetheart."

You laughed, breathless and still a little dazed. "God, what have I gotten myself into?"

Klaus smirked and leaned in, brushing his lips over your cheek. “Something far better than your dreams.”

Sleep came fast after that. Your body blissed-out and warm, your mind wrapped in the steady rhythm of his breath against your back. When you stirred hours later, the room was bathed in soft morning light. The air smelled faintly of coffee and cologne.

You blinked, eyes adjusting, and found him across the room, sitting in a chair by the window, shirtless, hunched over a sketchpad.

His hand moved in sure strokes, charcoal-stained fingers dancing. His eyes lifted when he felt you watching and a slow smile spread across his face.

“Caught me,” he murmured.

You stretched beneath the covers, muscles deliciously sore. “What are you drawing?”

He flipped the pad closed with a flick. “A keepsake,” he said. “For me.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t want to show me?”

He stood, crossing to the bed, placing the sketchpad face-down on the nightstand. Then he leaned over, his palm skimming along your hip, the sheets slipping away as his lips found yours.

“I’ll show you someday. But first...breakfast, a bath, and perhaps... round two?”

You flushed, smiling helplessly as he pressed you back against the pillows. "Are you always this demanding?"

He nipped your lip and tugged on it, his hand slipping lower. "Not at all, sweetheart. Usually I'm worse."

[kitkatkitzune]

As someone who gets frequent spiders in my home, I know this feeling of terror all too well 😔

Can I request fluff with Elijah Mikaelson where the reader is terrified of spiders and he rescues her?

boo spiders [elijah mikaelson x f!reader]

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange information ↳ taglist

a/n: this is more of a drabble than anything, but i thought it was a cute idea and also there are SPIDERS in my APARTMENT and i'm going to CRY

The downside to living in an old manor with an even older vampire was the pest problem. You were half convinced you heard skittering at all hours. There were a few times that Kol purposefully let rats in just to give you a scare. He cackled like a witch as you screamed.

Elijah was out today, doing god knows what, god knows where. After having a calm morning, even gardening in their overrun courtyard, you decided it was time for a shower. You put in a shower steamer, made the water almost boiling, and were prepared to get into the relaxation mindset. About halfway through your shower, you notice the spider.

You stifled a scream, knowing it could sense fear. It was huge and in your shower. You glued yourself to the shower wall, eyes stuck to the arachnid. It was too big to just slap with your hand. You didn’t want to risk alerting it by jumping out of the shower. You just stood there frozen in fear.

It dropped a little, and you screamed bloody murder.

Elijah was pushing through the dirt a second later, having just gotten home. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows furrowed. He couldn’t see you through the tinted glass.

“S-Spider,” you stammered. Elijah chuckled, finding this very amusing. You growled. “Son of a bitch, do something!”

“Alright,” Elijah laughed, opening the shower door. He picked up the spider between his fingers, and you gagged at its stupid kicking legs. He opened a window and tossed it outside, coming back to check on you. “You’re safe, my dear.”

“I saw my life flash before my eyes,” you breathed, handheld to your heart. “I saw my regrets, my dreams—“

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic—“

“Please shut up while I’m monologuing,” you replied. He bit his lip to keep from chuckling as you held up a finger and continued. “That experience was one of the worst of my life. Worse than Klaus trying to kill me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elijah nodded, finding you amusing. You let out a shuddering breath, the water still running all around you as Elijah regarded you with thinly veiled humor. 

“Thank you for saving my life,” you breathed. 

“Of course,” Elijah nodded. He grabbed a towel for you, wrapping you up as you got out of the shower, turning off the water so it just trickled down the drain. He wrapped you tightly, and you sighed in contentment. “You’re quite adorable like this.”

“Scared for my life?” You asked incredulously. Elijah kissed your forehead.

“Yes.” You hit Elijah’s shoulder, but it didn’t affect him. Your hits never did.

“You need to replace the bathroom since demons can get in here.”

“I’ll make sure to get right on that,” Elijah acquiesced. You glared at him.

“You aren’t taking me seriously, are you?”

“Not one bit,” he smiled, that toothy grin that made him look more like a man than the vampire the world saw him as. You sighed.

“It was quite scary.”

“Let’s take you to bed, sweetheart.” He picked you up bridal style before you could complain, letting out a yelp at the change in altitude. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You can’t pick me up every time you want me to shut up.”

“But it works so well.”

“Elijah,” you chastised. He just laughed, carrying you down the hall, far away from any potential spiders.

[kitkatkitzune]

Daniel Sharman as Kol will always be superior!!! Ugh this was so perfect Lissa, their little witchy home sounds so lovely!!!

Describing him as a cat then immediately having him mess up the leaves while looking at her made me giggle

Need

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

{Kol Mikaelson x f!reader} You’re trying to do a spell. He’s trying to ruin your night in the best possible way.

♡♡ here's some more Kol ... but the better hotter version... ♡♡

2.2k words - Warnings: smutt, witch!kol, oral sex (f!receiving), teasing, begging, dom!kol, kol being filthyyy, overstimulation, bratty reader & magical climax...

The little flat Kol and you did spells in smelled like dried lavender and ozone. Calm. Domestic. Magical.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, an old grimoire open in front of you, carefully laying out ingredients in a neat spiral just as the text instructed. The ritual was just a simple calming charm, but you still wanted it perfect. Your chalk lines were crisp, your chant steady. Every herb, gem, and drop of oil went into place with deliberate care.

Kol was sprawled on the couch like a bored cat, watching you with half-lidded eyes and a smile that curled at the edges like smoke.

“Little precise, don’t you think?” he drawled, “The spell’s barely more complicated than tying your shoes.”

You didn’t look up. “And yet somehow, you still managed to fuck it up last time.”

“I did not,” Kol said, clearly offended. “It worked just fine.”

“It made your eyebrows fall out, Kol.”

“They grew back.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward to adjust the position of a small rose quartz. Kol’s gaze tracked the motion, dark and pleased.

“You’re very sexy when you’re pretending magic is a science,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

You ignored him. Mostly.

He got up and crouched beside you with a lazy grin. Then, before you could stop him…he flicked one of your precisely placed herbs out of the circle.

“Kol!” you snapped.

“What?” he said, utterly unrepentant. “Doesn’t matter where the rosemary goes.”

“It does if you want the charm to work properly.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said smugly, “watch and learn.”

He muttered the chant under his breath. Half of it slurred, the other half skipped entirely, then he tapped the chalk circle with two fingers. The air shimmered faintly, and the spell completed with a satisfying hum.

You stared…half-annoyed, half-reluctantly impressed.

He looked insufferably pleased with himself. “See?”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

Kol sat back on his heels, and gave you a pointed look. “And yet… I did.”

You sniffed. “You are such a lazy witch.”

The change was instant.

Kol went still.

The amusement in his eyes didn’t vanish, exactly. It just sharpened. Darkened. In that signature Mikaelson way. He tilted his head and looked at you like he just discovered something interesting.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked, voice low and light.

You smirked, brushing chalk dust from your fingertips. “Only when you act like one.”

His gaze stayed locked on yours. You expected him to laugh, or maybe roll his eyes again. Instead, he stayed crouched beside you, his smirk fading into something more intent.

“Come here,” he said softly.

You blinked. “What?”

“Because,” he murmured, “you’ve got a little something…”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with the pad of his thumb, sweeping away a smudge of chalk. His touch lingered longer than necessary, his fingers slipping just barely into your hair as they fell away.

His expression had shifted, still playful, but quieter now. Fond.

“You’re very beautiful when you’re focused,” he said. “All that effort… just to do things right. It’s sweet.”

The compliment was unexpected. Earnest. Your breath caught a little.

Kol leaned in, pressed a kiss to your cheek. Then another at your jaw. The third landed on your mouth,  soft and slow and reverent.

You melted into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hand slid behind your head, fingers threading through your hair, deepening the kiss until it pulsed with heat. His lips moved against yours with aching patience, like he could take his time, like he wanted to savor you.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice a warm breath against your mouth.

“Now… let me show you what a lazy witch can do.”

You let out a soft giggle, and he stood, tugging you gently up with him. His fingers laced through yours, sure and warm, grounding.

He led you across the flat to the little alcove tucked beside the window. You had filled it together over time, too sentimental to throw anything out. Now it was a riot of cushions, trailing plants, dog-eared grimoires, and half-finished spellwork. It smelled like dried herbs and beeswax and him. A space that belonged to both of you.

Kol sank down into the chaos like he belonged there, then pulled you down with him. You landed with a soft sigh, his body settling over yours, weight pressing you gently into the cushions. You kissed him again, needier this time.

You let him undress you piece by piece. His eyes never left your face, even as his hands explored bare skin, fingers slipping over hips and thighs, reverent in their touch. He kissed your chest, your collarbone, your mouth again, and you melted beneath him, warm and pliant and wanting.

Then he shifted his weight, pulling back just enough to undo his belt. You took the opportunity to tug off his shirt, your hands sliding over the muscles of his back, shoulders, chest. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your palms.

Kol’s eyes went dark as he watched you touch him. That look meant he was about to ruin you in the best possible way.

He slid your panties down and settled between your thighs, fingers tracing slowly up the inside until they reached your core. He slipped one inside, teasingly slow. Your breath caught, and he smiled, pleased.

“So lovely,” he murmured against your neck. “My sweet little witch.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, then dipped lower. His mouth moved over your breast, tongue circling your nipple. He hummed softly, content, then pulled back. His fingers still worked you with care as his other hand freed himself from his jeans.

His thumb found your clit, moving in slow, steady circles that made your legs twitch and your hips rise, heat building fast and sharp in your belly.

When you were trembling, panting, nearly begging, he pressed the head of his cock against you. Just that, firm and deliberate, making you gasp. Then he eased inside, inch by inch, a slow, dizzying slide that made you cling to his shoulders.

The pace he set was maddening. Deep, unhurried thrusts that rocked you into the cushions, each one dragging pleasure through your core. His mouth stayed on yours, kissing you softly. Your nails scratched at his back, hips rising to meet him, wanting more, needing it.

“Would you look at that,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. His eyes trailed down your trembling body, landing between your legs where you were joined. “You’re shaking already, sweetheart. Barely even fucked you.”

You whimpered, squirming beneath him, hips twitching upward instinctively to meet his next thrust. But Kol held you down easily, one palm heavy over your stomach, his pace deliberately lazy. Just enough to keep you desperate, not enough to let you fall apart.

“Kol,” you gasped, fingers curling into the sheets. “Please…”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Please what, darling? Use your words.”

“I need more,” you stammered. “Faster. Please…just fuck me.”

Kol slowed even further, hips barely moving now, just the tip of him dragging over your soaked entrance in the most maddening way. You cried out in frustration, hips grinding up helplessly, but he didn’t let you get any real friction.

“Oh no,” he tutted, lips brushing your jaw as he kept you pinned. “darling, you don’t get to call me lazy and then beg for more…If you want it so badly… then move. Show me.”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “What?”

His grip eased just enough to let you move, just barely. “Come on then. Fuck yourself on my cock. Prove how needy you are.”

The humiliation hit hot and sharp. You bit your lip, face burning, but the need won out. Slowly, shyly, you began to rock your hips upward, the small motions making his cock slide just slightly in and out. It felt incredible, sharp, hot pleasure blooming low in your belly, making your eyes flutter closed and your mouth fall open.

Kol let out a low, satisfied hum. His hands stayed firm on your thighs, but he didn’t help, not yet. Just watched with wicked delight. “Look at you,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “Working so hard for it. Desperate little thing, fucking yourself under me like that.”

The sound of his voice, dirty, smug, laced with a teasing kind of affection, made you shiver. You whimpered, hips rolling faster now, trying to take more of him, to make the friction hit just right.

“Fuck, yes, Kol,” you gasped, frustration bleeding into your tone as your movements turned frantic. You were chasing it now, that unbearable pleasure just out of reach. “Please, I need you, please help me.”

He raised a brow, grinning down at you. “Help you?” he repeated, mockingly thoughtful. “Hmm. I don’t know. You’re doing such a good job making a mess all by yourself.” He leaned in closer, mouth brushing your cheek. “Your pretty little cunt grips me when you beg. Absolutely starving for it, aren’t you?”

You moaned loud and broken, nearly sobbing from the intensity. Your hips jolted in short, desperate motions, your pussy clenching around him, soaked and needy. Your legs trembled in his grip, knees pressed tight to your chest, trying to find a good rhythm.

“Kol, fuck, please,” you babbled helplessly, your voice cracking. “I can’t, I can’t come like this, I need you…”

His gaze darkened, his smirk sharp and feral. He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you beg.”

Then, finally, he thrust forward. A single, hard roll of his hips that pressed him deep until you gasped and arched off the bed with a broken sound.

“There we go,” Kol purred, tone still teasing but darker now, need threading through every word. “Was that it? Is this what my greedy little darling wanted? For me to fuck her properly?”

Your mind was blank, all rational thought gone, replaced with nothing but desperate, mindless need. Kol set a brutal pace, pounding into you again and again. The angle making you feel it everywhere, pleasure sparking across your entire body. His hands gripped your hips hard, pulling you against him. You were both gasping, panting, the filthy sound of his cock sliding into you wet and messy and perfect. Your cries grew louder, sharper, and he just laughed, low and delighted, like this was the best game he'd ever played.

“Look at you,” he breathed, voice ragged with pleasure. “You were so shy a minute ago, now you’re dripping down my cock like you’ve got something to prove.”

Your nails dug into his forearms, your body arching helplessly beneath his, the rhythm of his thrusts punching little moans out of you with every snap of his hips.

“You’re going to come for me,” he said, cocky and certain. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t even speak. Just nodded frantically, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

Kol leaned in and kissed one of them from your cheek, then grinned against your skin. “That’s my girl.”

He shifted his angle just slightly, hitting that spot that made your entire body jolt. “There it is,” he whispered.

Your orgasm hit hard and fast and overwhelming. You sobbed out his name, your whole body locking up, then trembling violently as you clenched around him, slick and soaking and undone.

Kol groaned low, hips stuttering once, twice, before he buried himself deep and came with a sound that was more growl than breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, panting, then huffed a breathless laugh.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he muttered, then kissed you like he didn’t mind at all.

Your laugh was shaky, your breath still coming in short, heavy pants as your body slowly relaxed beneath him. Kol pressed gentle, lingering kisses to your mouth, your cheek, your jaw…each one soothing, bringing you back down gently.

“You alright?” he murmured softly, stroking his thumb affectionately over your cheek.

“Mhm,” you sighed, smiling as you looked up into his face, still flushed and smug. “Though, for the record, you’re still a lazy witch.”

Kol raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief returning to his eyes. He leaned back slightly, tracing a casual pattern through the air with his fingers. “Lazy, am I?” he asked playfully.

You frowned slightly, suspicious. “Kol, what are you…?”

The air shimmered faintly around you both, suddenly heavy and charged. Your heart skipped as Kol’s smirk deepened, eyes glittering with intent.

Your breath caught. “Wait…”

A wave of warm, tingling magic flooded your body, pleasure rolling gently but insistently through every nerve. It surged, grew sharper, deeper, until your body arched up from the cushions with a gasp, overwhelmed by the intensity.

Kol grinned, slowly kissing his way down your body, lingering here and there, teasing each sensitive spot. Your body trembled, hips shifting instinctively toward his touch, but his hands held you steady, firm but gentle.

Kol hummed against your stomach, pleased by your reaction. “See? That wasn’t lazy,” he said, voice dark and smoky and smug. “That was improvisation. I figured my girl deserved something special.”

He ducked lower, kissing the inside of your thigh, sending another shudder rippling through you. You moaned softly, head falling back against the cushions, legs shaking beneath his careful touch.

Kol settled comfortably between your legs, smirking up at you before lowering his mouth slowly to your soaking cunt, breath warm against your skin.

“Now,” he murmured teasingly, “let’s see how many more you can handle.”

[kitkatkitzune]

Oh my gosh!!! 1k notes?! Thank you all so much 🥰🥰🥰🥰

PRINCESS

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Vampire!Reader

Summary: Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline find out the real reason Kol calls his lover princess.

Warnings: Violence I guess, Blood mentioned, Death, A bit of angst, Forced suicide, A lousy king, Age gap between reader and unnamed man she is meant to marry, A scene very obviously inspired by Star Wars (let me know if you catch it), Borderline excessive use of the word ‘princess’ (I fear that was implied by the title), Inaccurate historical depictions, The Mikaelson family being menaces (kinda), Kol being Kol, Caroline being Caroline, Implied Klaroline, Inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (my bad), A few uses of Y/N

Notes: Let's pretend everyone gets along… for the most part. Kol got turned at nineteen because I said so. Those stars were formatted to be centered originally but they keep going back to the side and I don’t know why, sorry.

Word Count: 4.4k

MASTER POST , TVDU MASTERLIST

———————

Present Day

Mystic Falls

For once in Mystic Falls, it’s peaceful. The Mikaelson’s decided that they’d all had enough running around, ripping the town apart, they wanted to relax and have normal lives for a bit. Klaus was the most reluctant of this idea, wanting to run off to create more hybrids but Caroline had asked him to stay, just for a bit before he’d continue his travels. He backed down a bit after that, behaving himself for the first time ever. All his siblings were shocked by this but chose not to taunt him about it. Well, all except for one, Kol. Kol would tease him relentlessly about it, using all the new terms he had learned, his favorite being ‘whipped’.

Oh Kol, your sweet, not so sweet, innocent, not so innocent, Kol. You had met Kol during the 16th century while you were still human. You had fallen hard for the Mikaelson boy but your feelings would mean nothing as you had already been betrothed to another man. The man was much older than you but that did not matter. It didn’t matter that you didn’t love him either, your fate was sealed. You were the only daughter to your parents, only child in fact. Your mother had tried to produce another heir, a boy, but fate would not allow it. Just as Kol would not allow you to marry that man.

You currently sat in the Mystic Grill, snacking on some french fries while you hummed quietly to yourself. Suddenly Caroline, Elena, and Bonnie all crammed into one side of the booth, sitting across from you. They were looking at you with wide eyes. You were in the process of putting a french fry in your mouth and sigh, setting it back onto your plate.

“What—“

Caroline shoves your plate of fries out of the way and slams a book in front of you, frantically pointing at a picture, “This is you? Right?!”

You look at the picture, it was a painting of you. In fact, this particular one was painted by Klaus.

“Yes, that—“

Caroline cuts in, “Is this before you were turned?! All it says is that you mysteriously disappeared at a ball! You’ve gotta tell us about this!”

Your eye twitches a bit, “I’m trying to!”

“Oh… right.”

You look at the picture of the painting again, it’s nothing compared to the original, “Nik actually painted this when he and his family—“

Caroline interrupts. Again. “Nik like, as in Klaus? He painted this? Wait so this was after you were turned? Or was it before?”

“Caroline!” Bonnie and Elena shush her.

“Sorry!” Caroline squeaks out, “I’m just excited…”

You laugh a bit, amused by the blonde's antics, “I’ll start with when I met the Mikaelsons…”

-★-

16th Century

England

“We thank you for welcoming our family into your home.”

Your father nods, holding his head high, still not too sure on the new family who would be staying around for a while. Your mother, on the other hand, had begun to gush over them.

The man continues, “I apologize, I have not properly introduced myself. I am Elijah Mikaelson.”

You watch as Elijah takes your mothers hand and brings it to his lips, she looks as though she is going to faint. You glance at your father who looks like steam is going to come from his ears. You try to suppress a giggle but fail. Your eyes widen when another boy immediately looks at you, you were caught. The heat rises to your face as you shrink back in on yourself. The boy was very attractive, they all were. He had brown hair and eyes to match, which glimmered with mischief. You knew immediately that he’d be one to cause trouble. He smirked at you and tilted his head to the side as he stared at you. You began to chew your lip and look to the ground, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

Your father clears his throat, bringing your mother back from her daydreams of Elijah. Your mother looks at you and grabs your hand, pulling you to stand in front of her.

“This is our daughter, Y/N, she is to be queen.”

The boy with the mischievous eyes raises a brow, “No sons?”

“Mind your tongue, Kol.” Elijah warns his younger brother.

The blonde girl next to who you now know as Kol begins to snicker. Elijah quickly turns his attention to her, “Rebekah.” he warns.

Another man steps up from behind Rebekah and Kol, “I do apologize for my siblings behavior. Kol and Rebekah can be rather… brash. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Klaus.”

He takes your mothers hand and kisses it, she looks as though she is going to faint again.

Your father clears his throat once more and Kol raises a brow, “Are you ill?”

“Kol!” Elijah hisses. Kol simply shrugs.

Your father glares at Kol before choosing to ignore him, addressing the others while simultaneously answering Kol’s question from earlier, “She is to be wed soon.”

You tense up at the mention of your wedding. Something that Kol immediately takes note of.

“We are having a ball in three month‘s time to celebrate, it will be held the night before the wedding! You are all welcome to attend!” your mother quickly offers.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, my dear. They will certainly have moved on with their travels by then.” your father looks at the Mikaelsons before narrowing his eyes, “Right?”

Kol and Rebekah glance at each other, clearly not impressed by your fathers attempt at intimidation.

Klaus smirks, “Nonsense! We wouldn’t dare miss a ball, would we Elijah?”

Elijah chuckles, “No brother, we would not. You have my word, we will be there, Miss Y/N.”

“Princess Y/N.” your father quickly corrects.

Elijah’s eyes narrow, “My mistake.” he then turns to you, “We will be at your ball, Princess.”

-★-

A week had passed since the Mikaelson family had arrived in your kingdom. You had grown to enjoy Rebekah’s company, laughing along with her as she complained about her brothers. Elijah would offer polite conversation if he saw you and you were scheduled to have Klaus paint your portrait (something your mother was ecstatic about). The only one you hadn’t had much interaction with was Kol. You could see him watching you from afar but he never approached you, though you couldn’t blame him because you never approached him either.

“For a girl that is soon to be wed, you don’t appear to be all that thrilled.“

You jump at the sudden voice and turn to see Kol. He’s smirking at you, “Hello princess.”

What was that saying? Speak of the devil…

You scoff and turn back to look at the trees, watching a squirrel run by. You often came to this spot in the forest to clear your head. It was isolated, just you with nature, and no one knew of it other than you and your mother. Until now that is.

“How did you find me?” you ask quietly.

“Oh! So she does speak!” Kol’s smirk widens.

Sitting up straighter, you clear your throat but before you can speak, Kol interrupts, “Does that run in your family?”

You narrow your eyes, “Does being an overly presumptuous arse run in yours?”

Kol lets out a whistle, “Sharp tongue.”

“Is there something you need, Mister Mikaelson?”

Kol raises a brow, “What I ‘need’ is for you to call me Kol, Mister Mikaelson makes me sound far too much like Elijah… so proper.”

“Then stop calling me princess.”

“Oh I’m sorry I can’t do that, princess. It is your title after all.”

“Very well…” you pause, “Mister Mikaelson.”

Kol chuckles, shaking his head and gestures towards the rock you’re currently sitting on, “Mind if I sit?”

“For some reason, I think you’d sit regardless of my answer.”

He smirks, “Pretty and clever.”

You turn to look away from him, heat rushing to your face. He chuckles a bit at your reaction. The two of you sit in silence for a moment, observing the nature around you. A bunny stops at a tree in front of you two, staring at you both. A smile appears on your face as the creature stares you down. You tilt your head to the side, letting out a small laugh as the bunny copies your actions.

Kol’s attention is not on the bunny though. He is focused solely on you. The way you smile, the way your hair is framing your face, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the twinkle in your eye as you watch the animal… just… you. An unfamiliar warmth spreads in his chest, unfamiliar, but nice.

Kol is so distracted by you that he doesn’t even realize that the bunny has run off until you’re waving your hand in front of his face. Kol blinks a few times as you lower your hand, your attention entirely on him as you begin to giggle again. Kol’s face flushes a bit and that warmth begins to spread in his chest again.

You raise a brow at him, “Has something distracted you?”

Kol laughs, shaking his head, “I just… you’re full of such life, you have wit… you’re fierce yet nurturing. And yet, I’ve seen you around with that man who must be at least twice your age and you seem dead. It’s as though you lose everything that makes you, you when you’re with him.”

You chew your lip, tilting your head as though you’re thinking, “Perhaps you are different.”

“A good different?”

“I hope so.”

-★-

Three days later you were sitting at that spot once again when Kol found you. This time, he brought a basket full of treats.

“You cook? Bake?” you ask.

He smiles a bit, raising his hands in mock surrender, “Alright, you’ve got me. I had some help from Rebekah… and I may have stopped at the market on the way here.”

You try to hold your composure but begin to laugh, Kol smiles at this and begins to laugh as well. He sits on the ground in front of you even though you had told him he could sit next to you. He simply wanted to look at you without having to turn his body.

You pick up one of the pastries and take a bite, a few crumbs fall onto your skirt and you don’t notice the few that stick to your lip. Kol does though, he finds it adorable and can’t help it when he sits up straight, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb against your lip. Your eyes widen in shock as you look down at him. Without breaking eye contact, he pulls his hand back and places his thumb in his mouth, sucking the remaining crumbs of pastry away.

Amused by your wide eyes and flushed face he tilts his head to the side, a sly smirk appearing on his face, “What?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Please stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he sits up once more, your faces directly in front of each other, only inches between the two of you. Your noses are practically touching…

You will yourself to not break away from his intense gaze, “You’re teasing me.”

“Oh,” he chuckles, amused, “I’d be much too frightened to tease a princess.”

-★-

Kol and you had continued to meet at that spot at least twice a week. No one had known other than maybe his siblings. It was taboo enough for two people of the opposite gender to be left alone if they weren’t married or soon to be. It was even more taboo considering the fact that you were to be married soon, to another man. Not to mention Kol’s obvious flirting and the way you would become flustered just by his gaze alone. Something that your soon to be husband could never do, never make you feel.

Normally, when Kol would find you, you’d be humming a song or spinning in a circle or even just sitting there, watching. Today, though, when Kol arrived, your entire body was shaking. He could hear your sobs as he approached you.

“Princess?” Kol asks softly, sitting next to you.

You looked up at him and Kol’s heart broke at the sight of your tear stained face.

“He’s going to kill me Kol.”

“What?”

“My fiancé… I overheard him speaking with his brother, after we are wed he is going to have me executed. I am simply a means to an end for him, I tried to tell my father but he brushed me off as paranoid and trying to get out of the wedding!”

Kol rests his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear and for a moment, just a split second you could have sworn you saw the veins beneath his eyes ripple, it must have been your tear filled eyes playing tricks on you. You were certain though, that his eyes became dark. You should have been scared at that look in his eyes but you weren’t. You felt safe.

“Will you trust me?”

When you don’t answer he asks again, differently, “Y/N. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” you answer without hesitation this time.

“At the ball tomorrow, I’ll take care of everything, okay? I promise that I won’t let him hurt you. I will find you, okay? If I do not then one of my siblings will. If none of us can reach you, I’ll be here, at this spot, waiting for you.”

You nod, bringing your hand up to cup his that currently holds your face.

“I must confess something.”

You tilt your head, urging him to continue.

“I’ve never had any intention of allowing you to marry that man.”

-★-

You were preparing for the ball when there was a knock at your door.

“Come in.” You called out.

Your mother entered the room and dramatically placed her hands over her heart at the sight of you. She rushed over to you, placing her hands on your shoulders, looking at you both in the mirror.

“My little girl, you’re all grown up.”

You smile softly, “Well I think that I still need my mother to help me with my necklace…”

You reach for the necklace that you had planned to wear but you were stopped by your mother. You look at her in the mirror, confused.

“No no, you’ll be wearing this.” she held up a gorgeous necklace, it was bejeweled, specifically with your birthstone.

“Mama…” you say, turning around to face her, touching the necklace as gently as you could, “This is gorgeous, where did you get this?”

She smiles, cupping your cheek, “It was a gift, here, allow me.”

You turn back around and your mother lifts your hair as she clasps the necklace. You reach up to touch the jewels, a small smile on your face. You have a guess as to who the mysterious gifter was and you could only hope you were correct.

She kisses your cheek, “To think, tomorrow you will be married…”

Your mood is dampened at the mention of your marriage. One day closer to your death. You had to trust Kol, that he would help.

The door opened and Rebekah entered, she looked absolutely stunning in her blue gown. Her hair was in an updo that complemented the square neckline of the dress. She freezes at the sight of your mother.

“My apologies, I did not mean to intrude.”

“Nonsense!” your mother exclaims, “I was just telling my lovely daughter how beautiful she looks, I’ll leave you two to talk.” she makes a swift exit out of the room and you chuckle.

Rebekah turns and looks at you, “You do look truly gorgeous.”

“As do you, Rebekah.” you smile softly at her.

The blonde takes your hands in hers, glancing at the door to make sure it’s closed before she turns back to you, “How much has Kol told you about tonight?”

Your brows furrow, “Only that I need to trust him…”

Rebekah sighs, “That fool.”

“Rebekah? What is going on?”

She plasters on a smile, “You needn’t worry darling, we won’t allow anything to happen to you.”

“Where is Kol…?”

Rebekah’s smile falls, “He’s having a chat with your fiancé.”

-★-

You stand with Rebekah, chatting while sipping your drinks. You glance around the room and frown when you realize you still haven’t seen Kol around. You hadn’t seen your fiancé either.

When Kol finally enters the ballroom, he makes his way to Elijah. Elijah takes in Kol’s appearance, checking him for blood stains and when he finds none, he raises a brow.

“I do hope you did not leave a bloody mess behind.”

Kol smiles sweetly, but his words are anything but, “I’d rather choke than have a single sip of that pig's blood.”

Elijah raises a brow and hums, intrigued, “What have you done?”

There’s suddenly a loud crash and a scream, causing everyone to look to the stairs. A maid comes rushing from the room where your fiancé was getting dressed, she goes straight up to your father. Listening in, Kol and Elijah hear the maid tell him that she found your fiancé’s body in the room. Your father’s eyes fall onto you and he beckons you to come to him. Your mother chews her lip, looking absolutely horrified. You excuse yourself from Rebekah and make your way to the stairs. Kol shifts the way he’s standing as though he’s about to make an escape.

“Kol…” Elijah narrows his eyes at his brother, “What did you do to the man?”

“Relax brother… he’s just hanging out.”

-★-

That night you sat on your bed, staring out the window. Your father had forbidden you from leaving the room for any reason. He blamed you for what had happened. Your mother remained downstairs trying to keep the party alive even though the guests of honor were nowhere to be found. You had discarded your gorgeous ball gown to slip into your nightgown. The necklace still rested on your chest, you couldn’t reach the clasp to remove it, you began to fidget with one of the jewels.

The more you stared out the window, the more your room seemed to suffocate you. You brought your hand up to catch the cold, metal latch and unlock the window, allowing the cool air of the night to blow into your room. Then you make a decision you’re sure you’ll regret, you climb out of the window and begin to climb to the ground. Your bare feet freezing when they make contact with the cold rock.

When you hit the ground you immediately start running to the forest, to your spot. You wish you could say that you weren’t surprised to see Kol there, already waiting for you like he had said he would be.

“Princess, I was waiting for you to show up.”

You let out a shaky breath, suddenly aware of the cold air around you. Kol stands and walks over to you, his eyes fall to your chest and you begin to feel self conscious of the fact that you’re in nothing more than a nightgown. He carefully reaches for your necklace, fidgeting with a gem, just as you had done earlier.

“I see you got my gift.”

A small smile finds its way onto your lips, “I knew it was you…” he can’t help but think that your words are referring to more than just the necklace.

He smiles down at you, “I am disappointed that I could not dance with you tonight.”

“You still can.”

He smirks, taking a step back from you before offering you his hand, “Could I have this dance, princess?”

You laugh, doing a small curtsy as you take his hand, “Why of course, Mister Mikaelson.”

Kol pulls you into his arms and you wrap your arms around his neck, taking in his body heat. His hands rest on your waist and you jump a bit at the feeling.

He chuckles, “You must be freezing…”

“Only a bit.” you admit, quietly, “You’re quite warm though, enough for us both.”

You rest your head onto his shoulder and close your eyes, humming. All nice things must come to an end as you hear your fathers booming voice echo throughout the forest. The sound of footsteps stopping right near you. You wait for the shouting but it does not come. Reluctantly you lift your head and find your mother’s wide eyes staring at you.

“Mama…” you begin to pull yourself away from Kol.

She brings a finger to her lips, shushing you as she rushes to pull you into a hug. She pulls away and holds your face in her hands, “You must go. Run.”

“Mama, I—“

She shakes her head, “There is no time to argue,” she looks at Kol, “Your family, you have money?” he nods and she continues, “You will take care of her?” he nods once more.

Your mother swallows hard, “Then go, run far from here and be happy. This life… it is never what you wanted, you want adventure, you want to travel. You do not want to sit and deal with politics… I know how it bores you. It’s killing your soul. I want you to be happy…”

Tears fill your eyes as you pull her into a tight hug, “I love you, mother.”

“I love you too, my daughter.”

She pulls away, tears are in her eyes, “Now go.”

Your father’s voice gets closer and before you know it, Kol has picked you up into his arms and has begun to run, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You watch over his shoulder as your mother stands still, getting smaller and smaller the farther you get away.

Kol seems to be running at an inhuman speed and you close your eyes not being able to handle the way things speed past you anymore, you feel as though you’ll be sick. Not even a minute later, Kol stops running.

“Kol.” Klaus’ voice warns, “What happened to getting rid of the fiancé and leaving the girl to find a better suitor?”

“She’s coming with us.”

“Kol…” Klaus begins.

“This is not negotiable brother!” Kol fires back.

Rebekah looks at you, curled up in Kol’s arms, practically shaking, “Did you steal her?”

“What?! Do you take me for an uncivilized fool?! She came with me!”

“I’m not judging! I’ve grown to like the girl as well!”

“My mother asked me to go with him…” you finally speak up.

“If she goes back, her father will be even more enraged than he already is. She’s coming with us.”

“Does she know?” Elijah asks, when Kol shakes his head, he sighs.

“She’ll have to kn—“

“I know, Elijah!” Kol snaps, “But now, we must go! The people are looking for her, we need to leave!”

Elijah swallows, “Very well. But we will be discussing this further Kol.”

Klaus throws his hands up, “You’re not serious, are you?”

He gets no verbal response as his siblings begin to run ahead of him. Klaus groans, “You are serious,” rolling his eyes as he reluctantly moves to catch up with the others.

-★-

“Would you turn me?” you ask suddenly, snuggling further into Kol’s chest.

He tenses up, he stops brushing your hair, “Where is this coming from?”

You sit up from his chest, “We’ve been traveling for almost two years now. I’ll be nineteen soon and you’re forever nineteen.”

You bring a hand up to brush the side of his face, forcing him to look at you, “I want to spend forever with you.“

Kol holds his hand over yours, staring into your eyes, “Do you understand what you’re asking of me? You’d have to die… and then you’d wake up like me, a monster. You’ll be thirsty for blood and no matter what you do that thirst will never go away.”

“You’re not a monster, Kol. I know the things you’ve done, and yet you can still be gentle. If I have to die and drink blood to spend the rest of eternity by your side then so be it. I want to stay with you forever.”

“Forever is a long time, princess.”

You laugh, “Perhaps it will be long enough to teach you to quit calling me that!”

It’s Kol’s turn to laugh, he pulls you back into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Neverrrr.”

You both lay in silence for a moment, until you look up at him again. He narrows his eyes at you before finally sighing.

“If that is really what you want once you turn nineteen… then I will turn you myself. Just don’t go running to Rebekah or God forbid, Nik.”

-★-

Present Day

Mystic Falls

“Soooo…” Bonnie pauses, “Kol killed your fiancé and you ran off with him?” she then points at your neck, “And you’re still wearing the necklace he got you.”

“Well that’s one way to shorten my story.” You mutter.

Elena laughs a bit at that before raising a brow, “So wait, you knew Kol killed him?”

“It was kind of obvious that Kol had something to do with it, he did tell me he was going to take care of it. I just assumed he had threatened him and it scared the man so bad he took his own life…”

“In reality I simply compelled him to, I never laid a finger on the man.” Kol announces as he slides in the booth to sit next to you.

“Speak of the Devil.” you tease.

Kol looks around for a moment before turning to you, “I don’t see Nik anywhere.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek, “Hello princess.”

“Hi Mister Mikaelson.”

You then look to the three girls across from you, “How did you even find that picture?”

“School project on the time period. It’s in a few history books.” Elena answers.

You hum in response then look at Kol who slides out of the booth, offering you his hand, “I hope you ladies don’t mind, the princess and I have places to be.”

You roll your eyes at his antics and take his hand, getting about a foot away before you turn back around to look at the three girls, “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t do your school project on me.”

They all nod and you smile, leaving The Grill, holding Kol’s hand. The three girls sit in silence for a moment, still soaking in all the information they just learned when Caroline suddenly gasps.

“What is it?!” Bonnie asks, looking around, trying to find a threat.

“That’s why he calls her princess!”

“We know, Caroline.” Elena answers, a bit amused.

“Oh…”

[kitkatkitzune]

There is something so hilarious about the idea that the terrifying, ancient, suited, original vampire, Elijah Mikaelson… has erotic novels on his book shelf.

Amazing as always @wholoveseggs !!

Losing

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

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} A late-night debate turns into a wager you’re sure you’ll win. But when Elijah proves you wrong, his prize isn’t gloating...

♡♡ here is some tooth-rottingly sweet and romantic eli smut ♡♡

3.6k words - Warnings: smuttt, friends to lovers, oral sex (f!receiving), wine, wagers, gramophone, slow dancing, sex in front of a fire & catherine the great...

It was late. Past midnight. The fire in Elijah’s study had burned low, casting gold light across his cheekbones, making him look like something carved out of stone, all sharp edges and shadowed angles. His dark eyes seemed almost completely black in the soft glow. His sleeves were rolled up. His tie was gone. There was a half-smile on his lips, like he was letting you talk just to humor himself.

“You’re making that up,” you said, laughing as you sipped your wine.

Elijah shook his head, lounging back in his chair like he had all the time in the world to prove you wrong. You were curled lazily in one of his oversized armchairs, legs crossed at the ankle, glass balanced in your hand. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to end up here. Late-night debates, shared bottles of red, conversations that wandered from art to war to pop culture to vampire trivia.

Just friends. That’s what it had always been. Comfortable. Easy. But tonight the air felt warmer, thicker. Your cheeks were flushed from the wine. Your limbs loose. And the teasing had started to feel more like testing.

The debate had begun when Elijah brought up Catherine the Great and her lesser-known hobbies.

“She absolutely did not write erotica,” you said, shaking your head with a grin. “That’s ridiculous.”

Elijah tilted his head, amused. “I assure you, it’s entirely true.”

You raised your brows. “You’re telling me Catherine the Great. Empress of Russia. Famed for her political prowess…spent her downtime writing smut?”

“Precisely.” Elijah’s tone was calm, eyes glittering with mischief. “And quite enthusiastically, I might add.”

You stared at him, openly skeptical. “You’re messing with me.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Prove it.”

Elijah leaned forward slightly, the challenge brightening his gaze. “Would you like to place a wager?”

You laughed, bold from the wine and feeling a thrill ripple through your chest. “What are you betting?”

“A favor,” he replied, voice smooth as velvet. “If you’re right, and I cannot prove it, you may ask anything of me.”

You bit your lip, pulse quickening at the possibilities. “Anything? Like anything anything?”

Elijah smiled slowly. “Anything within my power.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance though your cheeks warmed beneath his intense stare. “Fine. If you’re right…though I know you’re not- what do you want?”

His gaze lingered a fraction too long, his eyes softening slightly, the amusement slipping briefly into something gentler. What he wanted was dangerous, he was far too close to revealing the depth of his affection. He had carried this secret yearning for far too long, treasuring these quiet nights, savoring every teasing smile you threw his way. But tonight, tonight perhaps he would take a risk.

“If I win,” Elijah said gently, setting his glass aside and rising smoothly to his feet, “I’d like a dance.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown. “A dance?”

“A dance,” he confirmed softly. “Just one.”

It wasn't an unreasonable request, but the look in his eye made you hesitate, something sweet and longing and utterly vulnerable. You told yourself it was a trick of the firelight, a trick of the shadows, a trick of your own longing.

You smiled slowly, softly. “Alright, Elijah. If you win, you’ll get your dance. But you won’t.”

He chuckled softly, turning and selecting a volume from the shelves behind him with calm certainty. He opened it smoothly, flipping to a page with practiced ease, and handed it to you with an almost apologetic smile.

"That's her real signature," Elijah said, nodding towards the looping letters. "I'm afraid I'm not bluffing."

You glanced up, meeting his gaze with a small laugh. "No way."

"Yes, way," he teased, lips twitching into a smirk.

You looked down, scanning the first page of the short story, then flipped to the next, and the next, and the next.

"Are you enjoying the Empress' literary talents?" Elijah murmured, and when you looked up he was standing much closer than before, his gaze warm and soft.

Your cheeks burned and you quickly closed the book, offering it back to him. He took it, eyes sparkling and placed it back on the shelf with a satisfied smile.

"Fine," you said, laughing, "I was wrong. Catherine the Great wrote porn. You won."

He nodded in agreement and walked over to his old gramophone, selecting a slow, classical piece and carefully adjusting the needle. The soft crackle of vinyl filled the silence, and then the first delicate notes began to play.

He turned toward you, extending a hand.

“Our wager, if you’ll recall, was one dance,” he said, voice low and smooth.

You hesitated for just a second, just long enough to feel the tension bloom in your chest, then set your glass down and stood. The room felt warmer as you crossed it. His eyes tracked you the whole way, that unreadable half-smile still on his lips, but softer now. Less teasing. Like something was shifting between you and he didn’t dare move too quickly.

You slipped your hand into his.

“So it was,” you said, and your heart stuttered as he pulled you gently into him, his other hand settling lightly at your waist.

The room blurred at the edges, the firelight flickering gold across the walls, the soft strings from the gramophone wrapping around you both like a spell. He didn’t speak. Didn’t rush. Just moved with you slowly, eyes flickering down to your lips and then back up again.

You tried to laugh, to keep it light, your brain not quite registering what he was doing. “You’re really cashing in this bet with a waltz?”

Elijah’s lips curved, but the amusement in his eyes was soft. “You’d be surprised how revealing a dance can be.”

“You say that like it’s a threat.”

“A promise,” he said quietly.

You weren’t sure when his hand drifted from your waist to the small of your back, guiding you just a little closer. Your chest brushed his with every slow sway. You could smell his cologne, feel the steady strength beneath his clothes, and something in your stomach twisted, you were nervous, wanting, and wholly unprepared.

“What am I revealing to you, then, Elijah Mikaelson?" You whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

"More than you realize," he said softly, and it sounded like a confession.

He lifted your hand, his palm warm against yours, and turned with a gentle spin. Your feet stumbled a little, but he caught you with ease, smiling, and drew you back against him, closer than before.

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers tangling into the collar of his shirt, clinging to him for balance. "Unfortunately I have two left feet. No dancing skills whatsoever."

"You're doing just fine," he murmured, the words low and warm against your skin.

"I'm following your lead."

"Exactly."

"So it's not really me doing the dancing, is it?" You pointed out, lips twitching.

"Perhaps," he admitted, "but it is a partnership. I'll catch you if you fall."

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the way he said it…soft and steady and sure, like he meant it. Like he wasn’t just talking about dancing. . And in that moment, something shifted. Subtle, but unmistakable. All your doubts melted away. Of course he felt it too.

You looked up, and his face was inches from yours, every line of it softened by the glow of firelight and some quiet, patient ache you weren’t sure had been there before. Or maybe it had always been there, and you just never let yourself look.

He reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trailing his fingertips lightly down the side of your neck.

The fire crackled. The song ended. The rest of the world disappeared. Your eyes flickered to his mouth. His hand curled around the back of your neck. You tilted your chin up, and he lowered his, and somewhere between the stillness, the fire, and the years of almosts, your lips touched.

Soft. Slow. Just once, and then again. And again. You sank into him, hands clutching his shirt, and his tongue slipped past your parted lips, the taste of him sending heat curling through your stomach. He sighed against your mouth, arms tightening around you as he broke the kiss slowly, breathing uneven, and leaned his forehead against yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The fire crackled softly nearby, the music long faded, but your bodies still swayed slightly, as if the dance hadn’t quite ended. Your breaths mingled, all close, steady and intimate. You could feel his heart beating through his chest, feel your own stuttering to match it.

Elijah’s hand found your face again, thumb brushing gently along your bottom lip, his voice hushed and raw. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

Your eyes fluttered closed under the weight of the confession. “You’re not alone,” you breathed.

“No?” he murmured, still gently swaying you.

You shook your head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping. “God, no. Elijah, I… I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for ages. I thought maybe we were just...”

“Just what?” he asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice even as his fingers skimmed down the side of your neck.

“Just friends,” you admitted, cheeks burning.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned in again, brushing his lips against yours.

“Well, we are,” he said, voice low and warm. His hand slid from your jaw to your waist, drawing you closer as he began walking you backward, gently guiding you step by step toward the hearth. “But friends can also be lovers.”

You didn’t resist. Couldn’t. You let him lead you, your fingers tangled in his shirt, the heat of the fire warming the backs of your thighs. You tugged hard enough to pop a button, and then another, as his hands slowly pulled up your dress, his knuckles grazing the soft skin beneath.

He leaned in and kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue brushing yours.. You fumbled with the remaining buttons, tugging his shirt off his shoulders and tossing it aside, and his mouth trailed lower. He tasted your neck, nipped gently at the base of your throat, and the room spun.

"You're right," you said, a breathless laugh escaping as he peeled your dress away and dropped it on the floor.

"About what?" he murmured, his lips skimming the curve of your breast as he deftly undid the clasp at the back.

"A dance." You ran your hands down his bare chest, relishing the heat of his skin, and started to unfasten his pants. "It's incredibly revealing."

Elijah’s low chuckle rumbled against your skin as he leaned in to kiss you again, slower this time and deeper, his hand skimming down over the curve of your ass.

Then, without warning, his arms slid beneath you, one bracing your back and the other curling under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly.

You gasped, laughing breathlessly as your arms flew around his neck. “Elijah!”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice thick with warmth and affection. “Always.”

He walked toward the firelight, his gaze never leaving yours. Then he knelt and lowered you carefully onto the thick rug in front of the fireplace. The flames licked heat across your skin, but his gaze was hotter, filled with hunger, the golden light flickering in his dark eyes.

He leaned over you, his hands tracing the contours of your hips. He kissed his way down your chest, swirling his tongue around one nipple, then the other, until they hardened and ached beneath his mouth. You moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, looking up at you, eyes glittering. "Like something from a dream."

Your cheeks warmed. You couldn't help smiling, hardly believing this was real. Him, here, saying these things. He held your gaze as his lips moved lower, trailing along your ribs while his hands caressed your sides. Then his mouth pressed gently to your stomach, just above the lace edge of your panties. 

Your hips rolled unconsciously, seeking more, and he gripped you a little harder, stilling you. Then came his tongue, the wet heat of it making your head spin. You squirmed, moaning softly, and his lips curved against you, a low hum reverberating from his chest.

“You’re sensitive here.” His voice was warm and low, edged with delight, like he’d just discovered a secret meant only for him.

Then he kissed lower, tongue dragging in lazy, open-mouthed strokes across your skin. Down the inside of one thigh, then the other, his mouth hot and unhurried. He nipped, kissed, licked like he was savoring a feast he’d waited lifetimes to taste.

You shifted beneath him, your legs lifting and spreading instinctively. He caught them easily, placing them over his broad shoulders and sliding his palms down your thighs.

"Stay right there," he whispered, the command barely audible over the crackle of the flames.

Without warning, he dragged his tongue, hot and slick, across the thin fabric between your legs. Your hips jerked, a strangled gasp catching in your throat. He laughed softly, his voice low and rich with wicked pleasure.

"Mmm... sensitive everywhere, then," he purred. His grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you still, pinned beneath his mouth.

His teeth scraped the delicate lace, the tip of his tongue tracing your seam through the fabric. You whimpered, head falling back. You could feel him smiling as he kissed lower, sucking gently at the lace that barely covered the soft bud of nerves. Your thighs clenched around his head, toes curling.

"Elijah," you whimpered, hands fisting in his hair.

He hummed in response, tongue flicking again against the lace. You cried out, bucking helplessly. You couldn’t think. Couldn't breathe. Could only moan and shudder, your thighs flexing and releasing with every stroke of his tongue.

He pulled away just enough to push the fabric aside, his fingers spreading you open. Then his mouth was on you again, no barrier this time.

You sobbed his name, hips lifting. He held you steady, his strength gentle but unyielding. Your whole body tightened. Every nerve lit up. Heat bloomed low in your belly, dark and consuming. 

Your hands twisted in his hair, his name slipping from your lips in a litany of moans. His eyes flicked up, meeting yours over the plane of your stomach. He didn’t stop. Just groaned into you, he couldn’t get enough, your taste was everything he’d ever wanted.

Your head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue flattened and dragged across the sensitive bud in a slow, devastating stroke.

"Oh fuck, Elijah, I can't-"

Your release hit you like a wave. He stayed with you, his mouth never leaving, fingers moving with careful, steady precision, coaxing the pleasure out in long, languid pulses.

He held you there, tongue swirling in slow circles, until your body finally began to soften under him. Only then did he pull away, pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

You were still trembling, panting. Your eyes found his as he knelt above you, chest glistening faintly with sweat, dark hair tousled, eyes burning. All you wanted was to have him close. On you, in you, surrounding you completely.

You reached up, pulling him down, crushing your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groaned into the kiss, one hand sliding up your ribs, the other fumbling at his waistband.

You could feel the thick ridge of his cock straining against the thin fabric of his briefs. You rolled your hips, gasping as he dragged himself over your swollen, sensitive center. He was hard, heavy, and you whimpered, reaching down to push the last layer of fabric aside. He let out a rough sigh as his length brushed over you, his teeth catching your bottom lip.

You tugged at the waistband, and his hand slipped between your bodies, covering yours. For a second, you thought he was going to pull away. A soft whimper escaped. But then he guided your hand lower, until his thick shaft filled your palm.

You curled your fingers around him, stroking lightly. He let out a low groan.

"That's it," he murmured, voice rough. "Just like that, sweetheart."

Heat pulsed between your thighs, and you stroked him a little faster, feeling him twitch in your grip.

He broke the kiss. When his eyes met yours, the hunger softened into something tender.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this?"

You bit your lip, heart twisting. "Tell me."

His smile was small, sincere. "Since the moment we met."

Your heart fluttered. A breathless laugh escaped. You couldn’t look away. "That long?"

"Yes," he whispered, moving your hand aside and leaning in to kiss your throat. "Since the first time I saw you... you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen."

"Elijah..." There were no words big enough, so you kissed him, giving him everything instead.

His hand slipped between your legs, fingers sliding through your wetness. The tip of his cock nudged your entrance. He pushed in slowly, carefully, hands braced on either side of your head, hips rocking until he was seated fully inside you.

You moaned, hands clutching his shoulders. He kissed you again, his lips lingering. "Is this alright?"

You nodded, wrapping your legs around him. The low, needy sound he made was enough to melt you.

"You feel incredible," he whispered, his mouth trailing along your jaw.

"So do you," you murmured, your hands running down the smooth lines of his back.

He pulled out slowly, almost completely, then pushed back in. Another moan slipped from your lips. Your fingers dug into his skin, urging him on as his hips began to move in a steady rhythm.

His hand cupped your cheek, keeping your eyes on his as he made love to you. Every thrust was deep, deliberate. His breath warmed your mouth, his dark gaze never straying from your face, watching each shiver, each gasp, each desperate whisper.

"Look at you," he said, voice filled with reverence.

You tried to respond, but all you could manage was a broken whimper as he thrust deeper. His strokes began to quicken.

He let out a low laugh, the sound vibrating through your body. "Beautiful."

"Elijah, please," you whispered, tugging him down for a kiss.

He groaned, tongue slipping into your mouth as his hips drove harder, his control starting to unravel.

"Touch yourself," he said, breaking the kiss and brushing his lips along your jaw.

You slid a hand between your bodies, circling your clit. His forehead dropped against yours.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Just like that."

He reached down, covering your hand, his fingers pressing yours a little tighter, a little faster. You could feel the pleasure coiling, building, and his eyes met yours again, hips smacking against yours with a soft, wet sound.

"Come for me, sweetheart."

You were so close. So full. It felt so good, his skin against yours, his cock driving into you, his fingers working in tandem with yours. Your body clenched, thighs shaking, and your release rushed through you in a dizzying wave. He followed you over the edge, spilling hot inside you, his groan rumbling against your neck as he pumped his hips, driving you both higher, deeper, until it was too much. Until you were clinging to each other, gasping, shuddering.

He leaned up, pressing his lips against yours, and for a few moments neither of you spoke, content just to trade lazy kisses, your hands slowly stroking the sweat-dampened skin of his back.

Finally, Elijah's arms slipped beneath you, and he rolled, shifting you with him so that his back was against the carpet and you were lying on top of him, sprawled across his broad chest.

His fingers trailed idly up and down your spine. The fire was still burning, the logs popping softly, and he leaned down to brush a kiss against the top of your head.

"I hope this isn't presumptuous," he murmured, a smile in his voice, "but I was hoping you might stay tonight."

"Mmm," you murmured, turning to nuzzle his chest. "As long as you cook me breakfast tomorrow."

"Done."

"Good. Because I'm famished."

His laughter rumbled through his chest, and his arms tightened, hugging you a little closer.

"You'll need your strength," he whispered, trailing his fingers along the curve of your hip, "because we have a lot more bets to settle."

Your head snapped up, eyes widening as you grinned.

Somehow, losing had never felt so good.

[kitkatkitzune]

Goodgirlgoodgirlgoodgirlgoodgirlgoodgirl-

@wholoveseggs i’m obsessed with this, on behalf of all the kol lovers - thank you!

Push

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

{Kol Mikaelson x f!reader} Kol’s late. You’re bored. And maybe a little reckless. But when he catches you playing with his toys without permission, he decides to teach you a very thorough lesson.

♡♡ Happy day two of mikaelson week!!! Here is some dom!kol for all my beautiful Kol lovers~♡♡

2.5k words - Warnings: smut, toy play, masturbation, dom!Kol, brat!reader, light punishment, {consensual} compulsion, riding, orgasm denial, overstimulation, power dynamics & lots of banter...

Your boyfriend was late. The kind of late that made you wonder if he was even planning on showing up.

You had gotten ready for him, too. Showered. Shaved. Spritzed the perfume he liked at the crook of your neck and behind your knees. You wore the little nightgown he once said made you look like trouble… and nothing underneath.

The candles had burned halfway down. Your phone lit up with everyone except him.

So you got bored. Horny. And maybe a little petty.

It started with just looking around, being a bit nosy to keep yourself occupied. The drawer beneath the bed was cracked open already… probably from the last time Kol had grabbed something without bothering to close it. That was his fault, really. You told yourself that as you slid it open further and pulled the little silicone toy from its case.

Your breath caught before it even touched you. The idea of using it without him, of getting yourself off in his bed, on his sheets, in his space… it was wicked… irresistible. And his fault for not being here.

You lay back on his plush pillows, lifted your legs slightly, and pushed it in.

It wasn’t enough.

You reached back into the drawer and grabbed the slim, pink vibe he loved to torture you with. Switched it on low. Let it buzz lazily over your clit until your thighs trembled. You arched, hips rocking, mind spinning with thoughts you would never dare say out loud.

You pictured Kol above you, his fingers around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes roll back. You imagined him telling you how pretty you looked spread open for him. You liked when he was completely in control.

He was usually very sweet and attentive in bed, although he had a darker side that would sometimes slip through. You loved it. The way he took what he wanted from you. The way his gaze grew sharper and he started ordering you around. It turned you on like nothing else.

A shiver ran through you. Your body clenched down hard on the toy and you moaned, lost in your own pleasure... Until the sound of the front door opening made you sit up.

Footsteps. Light. Careless. Unhurried.

The toy was still humming between your legs. You tried to switch the vibe off, but your finger slipped in panic. The buzzing got louder. You cursed.

And then his voice, low and far too amused.

“Well, well,” Kol said from the bedroom doorway, watching you with those dangerous eyes.“Looks like someone got impatient.”

Your cheeks flamed, but you were already wet and swollen, the vibe was still pulsing, and all you wanted was him.

“Did I say you could play without me?” he asked, voice sweet and smug and dangerous.

You scrambled to shut the toy off, cheeks burning, thighs sticky with arousal and shame. Kol didn’t move. Just stood there watching you like he was deciding whether to fuck you or punish you.

Or both.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snapped, breathless. “You are late.”

Kol just smirked, then reached for the hem of his shirt and peeled it off with theatrical slowness, like he was doing you a favor. His belt came next, then his jeans, until he was left in nothing but a pair of sinful black boxers, his cock already hard and thick beneath the fabric.

He didn’t come closer. He walked around the bed, calm and unbothered, and stretched out across the pillows like a man settling in to watch something entertaining. Arms behind his head, lips curled.

His eyes dropped to your hand.

"Well, go on then," he said lazily, nodding to his cock. "It’s far better than that toy you're still clutching."

You blinked. Heat crawled up your neck.

"I don’t see why you’re not already sitting on it."

Your mouth dropped open.

“Kol,” you said, half shocked, half turned on. “You’re so-”

“Honest?” he offered, clearly enjoying himself. “You were making such a mess without me, darling. Seemed cruel not to offer the real thing.”

He patted his thigh, expression turning softer. "Come here. Let me feel how badly you need it."

You hesitated. Just a second.

Then you moved.

You set the toys aside, careful to close the drawer this time, and crawled into his lap. His cock was already hard against your thigh when you straddled him, the heat of it soaking through his boxers. You rocked against it, teasing, slow, and Kol groaned low in his throat, hands sliding under your gown to cup your bare ass.

“Such a needy little brat,” he murmured, giving one cheek a sharp slap. “Couldn’t even wait an hour.”

You gasped, hips jerking into him. He laughed.

"I was trying to be good," you said, leaning down to press a slow kiss to his throat, your body stretched out over his as he reclined beneath you.

His hands roamed lower, over the swell of your ass…kneading, gripping, pinching. “You touched yourself in my bed, sweetheart. Without me. That doesn’t sound like good behavior to me."

He gave you another playful squeeze. "That calls for punishment."

You shifted, grinding down again, flushed and needy and so desperate for him to do just that. “So punish me.”

His eyes darkened with interest. Then, without warning, he pushed up from the pillows and sat upright.

The sudden shift made you rise with him, your hands bracing on his shoulders for balance. His face was right there, his lips brushing against your jaw.

“I don’t feel like doing the work tonight," he murmured, voice thick with intent. "You want to come so badly? Earn it.”

You blinked, breath catching.

He tugged at the straps of your nightie, slipping them down your shoulders like he was unwrapping something precious. His hands followed the fabric down, over your breasts, thumbs swiping across your nipples.

“If you do a good job,” he said softly, “I’ll be sweet to you. If you don’t…”

His eyes gleamed. His fingers pinched down on the tight buds. You whined.

“I’ll compel you. I’ll make you ride me while I just sit back and watch."

Your heart pounded. A sharp ache pulsed between your legs.

“That what you want?” he asked softly, brushing his lips over your ear. “You want me to take control? To get in your pretty little head and keep you going until your legs give out?”

You nodded, a little too fast.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please. I want that.”

He grinned. “Good girl.”

Then he loosened his grip and leaned back, his hands resting behind his head once more.

You didn’t need any encouragement. Your whole body was humming. You shifted, dragging your core over the thick line of his cock, his boxers the only thing separating you.

Kol let his eyes fall shut, his fingers curling into his palms, but didn’t move.

You rolled your hips again, and again, building a steady rhythm. The pressure was good. The friction was delicious. But you wanted more.

Your fingers slid under the waistband and freed him, wrapping around the warm, heavy length. He hissed. His hips jerked and you smiled.

You pumped him slowly before pulling away and raising up on your knees. Kol licked his lips, his eyes dark. Watching. Waiting.

You held his gaze as you eased down on him, inch by torturous inch. You held still for a moment, breath shaky as your body adjusted around him. The stretch was deep, sharp, perfect. And Kol just watched you, smug and relaxed, like he wasn’t even feeling it.

You began to move. Slowly at first. Rolling your hips in tight little circles, trying to find the right angle, trying to make it work. You braced your palms on his chest for leverage and lifted, then dropped again, gasping at the pressure. But it wasn’t… clicking. Not the way it did when he was in control. When he had your knees pressed to your chest or your face buried in the pillows. When he was fucking you his way.

You tried again. A little faster. A little deeper. But your thighs were already beginning to tremble. It wasn’t enough. Not the right angle, not the right pressure, and no matter how hard you chased it, you couldn’t catch the edge. You were aching. Frustrated. Your rhythm faltered.

You whimpered.

Kol didn’t help. Didn’t move. Just looked at you with that maddening smirk.

“I hate this,” you whispered, rocking your hips one more time. “I hate being on top.”

“Then you should’ve thought twice before touching yourself without permission,” he murmured.

Your legs burned. Your body trembled. You tried to ride him again, desperate, but the muscles refused to cooperate. 

And then you collapsed forward, chest to his, head buried in his neck, “Please,” you sobbed, humiliation flooding your veins. “My legs… they hurt, I can’t-”

He leaned up just slightly, capturing your chin in his hand, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. “You asked for this, darling.” His eyes dilated slightly, voice commanding and velvet-soft. “Keep riding me. Don’t stop until I say so.”

You shuddered as the compulsion sank deep into your mind, overriding your exhaustion. A fresh whimper tore from your lips as you obediently began rocking your hips again, slow, deep motions that stretched you open, the delicious friction unbearable.

“See?” Kol murmured, lounging back with infuriating ease, his smirk wider than ever. “Knew you could be a good girl if I told you nicely enough.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as your overstimulated body protested, pleasure twisted sharply with pain as your exhausted thighs burned. Yet you couldn’t stop, your body moving, rhythmically, grinding down onto his cock, chasing the cruelly building pleasure he forced you toward.

“You look so fucking pretty when you struggle,” Kol purred, eyes gleaming with mischief as he watched you fall apart. “Does it ache, darling? Legs giving out on you already? Poor thing. You really thought you could handle me.”

Your breaths came faster, ragged and shallow, each movement of your hips more frantic than the last. You were so close, but your thighs were burning, muscles locking up, rhythm faltering. You couldn’t keep the pace. You were falling apart.

And you were close. So close it hurt.

The tension coiled deep in your belly, every muscle tightening, your hips grinding faster in desperation. But just before you could tip over the edge… Kol’s voice slipped into your mind, overwhelming and final.

“Stop.”

Your body froze mid-thrust, thighs trembling, your cunt pulsing helplessly around him. A sob caught in your throat. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t come. Couldn’t do anything but teeter on the edge, stuck in the most delicious, aching stasis.

Tears welled in your eyes as Kol sat up slowly. One hand stroked your cheek, brushing the tear away with maddening tenderness.

“You were about to come without permission,” he said, voice low and sweet and merciless. “That’s not very obedient of you.”

You whimpered, trying to shift. You couldn’t. The compulsion held you tight, locked in place on his cock.

He leaned in, mouth at your ear.

“I want your eyes on mine.”

You looked.

“Good girl.”

Then he slid a hand between your legs and pressed his thumb against your clit.

Your body screamed to move, to grind down, to chase the friction… but all you could do was sit there, legs trembling, while he teased slow, excruciating circles over your swollen nerves. His cock throbbed inside you, untouched. He watched you fall apart, watched the tears slide down your cheeks, watched your mouth fall open on a sob.

“You’re going to come,” he said, “when I let you. Not a second sooner.”

Another tear slipped free. Another choked cry.

“Tell me you’ve learned your lesson.”

“I-I have,” you whispered. “Please…please, I learned-”

He kissed you. All tongue and fire and teeth. Then he pulled back and looked straight into your eyes.

“Come for me.”

You shattered.

The orgasm tore through you like lightning, every nerve igniting at once. You couldn’t move...but your body clenched, spasmed, locked up around him as waves of pleasure broke over you, again and again. You sobbed his name, wrecked and wide-eyed and shaking in his lap.

Kol cradled your face, kissing the corners of your mouth. "You're perfect," he whispered. "Perfect little toy for me to play with."

His hands were at your hips, then, shifting you, moving you. He guided you slowly, carefully, lifting and lowering your trembling form on his cock, his pace slow and even and punishing.

Your face was buried in his neck, his hands bruising your hips. He used you, just like he said. You were nothing but a warm, pliable, limp little doll in his lap.

Kol fucked you through his own pleasure, until he was grunting and gasping, his fangs finding the soft skin of your throat and sinking deep, his hips pumping up hard and fast. You whimpered, his teeth sharp, his cock deeper than it had ever been, his thrusts jarring you with each snap of his hips.

Then, after one last, shuddering thrust, Kol stilled, his cock buried deep. A strangled noise left his lips as he emptied himself inside you, his fingers digging bruises into your hips.

You stayed in his lap for a long moment, limbs limp, head resting against his shoulder. Your breath came in ragged little gasps, your whole body boneless and soaked in sweat, your mind blissfully blank.

Kol let out a low, satisfied hum. His hand slid slowly up and down your back, fingers tracing idle, lazy circles between your shoulder blades.

“Well,” he said, voice still rough with the afterglow, “that was a pathetic ride.”

You let out a weak, breathless laugh. “Fuck you.”

“You just did,” he said smugly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Very loudly, I might add. The neighbors are going to think I’ve sacrificed someone.”

You groaned into his neck, too exhausted to move. “My legs don’t work.”

Kol grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Good. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before spreading your pretty little legs in my bed without me.”

You reached up and half-heartedly smacked his shoulder. He caught your wrist with ease, brought it to his lips, and kissed the inside of your palm with surprising tenderness.

“Oi,” he said, quieter now. “Don’t pass out yet.”

“I’m not,” you muttered.

“Liar.” His other hand slid up to gently card through your hair, pushing the damp strands back from your face. “You look completely wrecked. I’m flattered.”

You huffed a laugh, still clinging to him. “I’m gonna kill you when I can walk again.”

He nuzzled your cheek, still impossibly smug. “I’ll take my chances.”

He kissed you. Slow and sweet this time, all teeth gone, all bite melted into something warm and wicked and fond.

When he pulled away, he murmured against your lips, “Next time, though… try lasting more than five minutes on top, yeah?”

You groaned and shoved your face into his chest. “I hate you.”

He laughed again, soft and sincere, wrapping his arms around you like he was never letting go. “No you don’t.”

And you didn’t. Not even close.

[kitkatkitzune]

🎶 guess who’s back, back again, lissa’s backkkkk tell a friendddddd 🎶

🎶 guess who’s back, guess who’s back 🎶

🎶 guess who’s back, guess who’s back 🎶

🎶 guess who’s back, guess who’s back 🎶

🎶 guess who’s back 🎶

I have I request/fic idea that’s kind of a flip on the usual. Reader & Elijah are dating and he can tell that’s she’s been holding something back when they have sex and is determined to get her to let go so he really pulls out all the stops. Reader is a biter, especially in situations she needs to be quiet (& maybe even a bit of a scratcher ie kinda claws at his back) but a previous boyfriend told it was weird so she’s super self conscious about it and is always a little distracted during sex fighting the instinct to bite him. Elijah succeeds and she latches onto that area between the neck & shoulder and turns out, not only is Elijah totally fine with it, he really REALLY likes it.

Bites

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

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} You were afraid to bite him. Until he told you to do it again.

♡♡ hiii anon I love your mind && Happy day one of mikaelson week!! I've missed ya'll ~xo ♡♡

3.2k words - Warnings: smut, praise kink, riding, biting kink (the blood-free kind ... although Elijah absolutely wouldn’t mind...), overwhelmed reader, feral elijah && warm fire...

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering light across all of the ancient books lining the walls. Everything felt still and quiet, that kind of soft silence that only came when you were wrapped in warmth and safety. It was your favorite kind of evening, curled under a soft blanket on the sofa with your favorite person tucked close.

You still weren’t sure how you managed to pull a man like Elijah. You met a while ago, when he walked up to you like he already knew what you would say. All dark eyes and smooth charm, tailored clothes and quiet confidence. He had disarmed you instantly. From the first moment, you sensed something different about him. Though you didn’t know then just how true that would turn out to be.

And now, months later, here you were. Nestled against one of the oldest living creatures on earth, with his arm around your waist like it belonged there. He could have had anyone. And yet, he chose you.

You certainly weren’t going to argue.

A soft sigh slipped from your lips as you pressed in closer, wrapping the blanket tighter around both of you. You looked up at him, studying the familiar lines of his face in the firelight. His hair fell softly across his brow, his dark eyes tracking the lines of his book. But the way his hand moved, slow and precise, long fingers flexing just enough to remind you how they felt against your skin. That was what made your heart flutter.

Your gaze moved up to the column of his throat, the curve where neck meets shoulder. A place you kissed before many times, gently, reverently. But tonight, you didn’t want to kiss it. You wanted to bite it.

The thought hit fast and hot. You swallowed hard, shifting under the blanket as heat pooled between your thighs. It wasn’t the first time you had felt it. That deep, aching urge always crept in during quiet moments like this. When you felt content and safe around him, overwhelmed by love and want and intense feeling.

But just as quickly, shame curled through you like smoke. You shouldn’t want that. Not like this. It was too much. You were too much.

The last time you followed that instinct, let it slip past your lips in the heat of the moment, your ex hadn’t understood. He laughed. Pulled back. Shut down. Called you intense. In that tone people use when they mean something else. When they mean weird. When they mean wrong.

You pretended it didn’t hurt, but it stuck. It lived in you. Ever since, you kept that part of yourself locked away. Bit your own lip instead. Dug your nails into the sheets instead of skin. Avoided the feelings that threatened to swallow you whole.

And now here you were, held in the arms of the most perfect man you had ever known. Still too scared to show him the whole of what you wanted.

Elijah turned another page, but he hadn’t read a single word in the last five minutes. He could feel your body pressed against his side, warm and restless, your breaths coming shallower now. And he could practically hear the thoughts racing behind your silence.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way your gaze lingered on him a little too long, the way your lips parted like you might say something, then thought better of it. Your breath caught.. just barely. But he noticed. He always did.

There was a flush rising beneath your skin, a certain tension in your frame that made his chest warm. You were trying so hard not to let it show. He could feel it in the way you tucked yourself a little closer, like you needed him to notice without asking. He found it very sweet.

He didn’t know what you were holding back, not exactly. But he could feel it, some small ache just beneath the surface. Something you thought you needed to hide.

He could wait. He would wait. But it was hard not to smile when you got like this. All quiet and shy…and clearly about two seconds from climbing into his lap.

His book was forgotten. His eyes were on you now, wearing that unreadable expression he saved for when he was studying something closely. Not judging. Just observing.

"W-what?" you asked, trying not to squirm. "You’re very distracting, you know that?"

Elijah gave you a small, amused smile. "I haven’t done anything."

"Exactly," you said, returning the smile. "You sit there looking like that and expect me to concentrate on anything else?"

He hummed, low and content, and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. "I was under the impression we were just reading."

"I was trying," you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed your skin. "Then your hand turned a page and my brain completely stopped working."

"That sounds serious," he said, voice dropping just a little, all low and velvet-soft as his fingers slipped beneath the blanket. "Should I be concerned?"

You giggled breathlessly just before he caught your mouth in a soft kiss. His hand trailed up your thigh, pausing just beneath the hem of your dress. Then, with careful ease, he dipped under the fabric. Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t pull away.

His palm slid higher, warm and steady against bare skin. He smiled into the kiss, then shifted, lifting you effortlessly into his lap. The blanket slid down, pooling around your waist as your knees braced on either side of his hips. He only broke the kiss long enough to lift your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

He hadn’t expected his evening to go like this. Elijah had planned to read, maybe kiss you once or twice and fall asleep with you curled against his chest. But now you were in his lap, bare and radiant, and all he could do was stare. The way your skin flushed under his palms, the way your fingers trembled as they touched him. It always undid something in him.

Your hands moved to the front of his shirt, fumbling slightly with the buttons. He didn’t rush you. He liked watching you like this. A little nervous, focused, so clearly wanting him. You got halfway down before he leaned in and kissed your jaw, a whisper-soft encouragement. You pushed the fabric back off his shoulders and down his arms, quickly tossing it aside.

His hand slid down your back, firm and possessive, pulling you tight against him. He was already hard, and the pressure of it beneath you made your breath hitch. He guided your hips with slow, deliberate movements, coaxing you to grind against him. The friction stole your focus, made your fingers tremble against his skin as the heat between you deepened, hungry and sweet and impossible to ignore.

You let your hands roam across his chest, drinking him in. His skin was warm under your palms, his muscles carved and defined. Your fingertips traced the ridge of his collarbone, slid up the curve of his neck, tangled in his hair. He felt like something meant to be worshipped.

You reached between you, breath shaky, and undid the fastenings of his pants. He let you, his eyes never leaving your face. You pushed the fabric down just enough to free him, and the second your hand wrapped around him, he groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest.

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, savoring the feel of him in your hand. The way he exhaled like you were undoing him. The way his fingers dug into your thighs, the ways his pupils dilated, making them somehow even darker.

The firelight flickered across your back, casting the two of you in molten gold. He leaned in, breath warm against your throat, and you tipped your head back as he kissed along your neck, his mouth open, tongue teasing. His hand moved between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and pushing the fabric aside.

His fingers teased you gently, not enough to satisfy, just enough to make your hips shift, seeking more.

"Go slow for me. Let it ache a while," he murmured. "I'll take care of you."

Your body trembled with anticipation, with need, and you bit your lip, stifling a whimper. He kept his touches light, too light, just barely brushing the surface, then a little deeper, circling and coaxing until your legs began to shake.

You tried to stay in control. Tried to hold back the part of you that wanted to claw, to bite, to take. The part that always felt too hungry.

But then he pulled away, slow and deliberate, and shifted beneath you. He pressed the head of his cock right where you wanted him most and held there, unmoving, letting the need twist hot and sharp inside you.

You held your breath as he pressed against you, and then, slowly, you began to sink down. You let out a quiet moan, savoring the stretch and the way his hands tightened around you, steadying you.

You started to move, slow and careful. Lifting just enough to feel the pull before sinking down again. Every motion was thick with wet heat, achingly slow. Sweet friction that built fire with every pass.

Your muscles burned with the effort of staying in control, and your heart pounded like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest. Your nails digging into the sofa.

His hands slid along your spine, grounding you as he let you set the pace. But it was not enough to hold back the rush building in your blood.

It was too much. The pleasure. The pressure. The unbearable fullness of him, deep and steady, everywhere.

And still, you tried to hold it together.

Still, you held back.

He felt it in the hitch of your breath, in the tremble that started in your thighs and worked its way through you like a current. Your heart was a wild, beautiful thing beneath your skin. Fluttering against your ribs, echoing in his ears like a siren’s call. And your scent… god, the warmth of it, the way clouded all of his senses as you eased down onto him. It nearly undid him.

You were trying so hard to stay composed. He could see it in the tension at your jaw, the way your fingers dug into the leather behind you instead of into him. It made something sorrowful ache in his chest. You were holding back. Still afraid. Still unsure if it was safe to fall apart with him.

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to be. That he could take it. That he wanted it. Wanted you to be hungry, wild and unrestrained. But he didn’t speak. Not yet. He didn’t dare interrupt the soft, sacred rhythm you set.

One of his hands slid across your shoulder, fingers trailing down your arm until he found your wrist. He brought it forward, pressed your palm to his chest, his skin hot beneath your touch.

“Touch me,” he said softly, steady as a heartbeat. “You don’t need to hold back.”

Your pulse jumped. The warmth of his skin, the steady thump under your palm, was too much. Too intimate. Too good. Your other hand followed, splayed flat over his heart. His hands returned to your waist.

You moved again, hips rolling deep and slow. You arched into him, nails dragging red down his chest. The pleasure built and built. And still, it wasn’t enough.

Your body trembled, caught between the instinct to take and the fear of being too much. You kissed along his jaw... that beautiful jaw. Just a little bit of stubble, sharp enough to cut. You kissed along it, slowly, breathing him in, afraid and desperate in equal parts to sink your teeth in.

Your mouth lingered there. Open. Wanting. But not daring.

His fingers flexed at your hips.

"Take it," he murmured, voice wrecked. "Whatever you want. Take it."

And finally you gave in.

You sank your teeth into the curve where neck met shoulder. Not enough to break skin, not on someone like him, but enough to hurt. Enough to shake him.

Elijah’s groan was guttural, the sound of a man utterly undone. His head fell back, and hips jerked beneath you, a sudden, uncontrolled thrust, and your body clamped down around him so tight it made your breath catch.

“Fuck.”

He swore under his breath, more primal than polished now and his hands squeezed your ass, guiding your hips.

“Again,” he hissed. “Harder.”

Your chest clenched. No one had ever enjoyed your intense side. No one had ever asked for more. The shame that always curled beneath your ribs was gone, burned out by the raw need in his voice. He wasn’t tolerating it. He was loving it.

And you were helpless to resist.

You bit him again, harder, and the strangled sound that escaped him sent a thrill down your spine. Your hands were shaking, fingers pressed tight against his chest, and your heart was pounding, but everything else felt perfectly, blissfully clear.

"Yes," he breathed, and his hand slipped between you, his fingers stroking over the spot where you were joined, and then up, rubbing in insistent circles over your clit, "Yes, love, yes..."

You moaned against his neck, the sound muffled. It was too much. The feel of him moving beneath you, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his skin, the press of his fingers, his hand against your back. The sounds he made. That beautiful, wrecked voice saying yes, over and over again.

Your mouth was everywhere, rabidly moving along the line of his jaw, the sharp ridge of his throat, the flushed skin you already marked once. You bit down over and over, teeth dragging just enough to make him groan, filthy and low. You felt drunk on it, dizzy, like the whole world was spinning around you and he was the only thing that could keep you upright.

Your hips bucked hard, your rhythm lost, and he began to bounce you, lifting your hips and bringing them back down with a punishing force. Every thrust drove a ragged sound from the both of you.

“Elijah,” you gasped, already breathless, fingers curling into his shoulders.

“Again,” he growled, voice sharp now. “Fucking bite me.”

The command in his voice hit like a punch to the gut. A moan tore from your throat as you did, harder this time, the taste of his skin flooding your tongue. His pace increased, his whole body shuddered, and his cock twitched deep inside you as he cursed under his breath. He started moving you even faster, every thrust hit something perfect, something devastating, and your moans turned into broken little sobs.

Your hands scrambled for his skin, digging into his chest, his shoulders, holding on as you bounced in his lap, thighs burning, body slick with sweat and slick and spit.

“Look at you,” he gasped, voice gone completely hoarse, his dark eyes wide and wrecked. “So fucking sweet like this. Look at how you ride me…wild fucking thing-”

You didn’t even recognize the sound you made. You were too far gone.

It wasn’t even sex anymore. It was heat and hunger and something feral. You bit him again, just under his jaw this time, and he groaned, his hips losing their rhythm, and you didn't care. You didn’t care how loud you were, how your teeth tore at his skin, the way your nails left angry red marks down his chest.

The ache in you was so deep. It had been there for months, burning like an ember in your core. And now, finally, the fire was burning through you, scorching everything else away. There was nothing but this moment.

You came with a cry, body clenching down around him in waves, your whole body shaking, lips still pressed to his skin. You couldn't stop. You didn’t want to. You kept licking, kissing, moaning into his neck as the pleasure overtook you completely.

He followed you, voice wrecked and raw, hands still guiding you through it as he spilled inside you with a shudder that wracked his whole frame.

Slowly, the world came back. The crackle of the fire, the cool leather of the couch, the heat of his body, and the gentle press of his lips against your cheek, your neck, your shoulder.

Your limbs felt like lead, and all the air left your lungs in a shaky exhale.

"Holy shit," you managed, still gasping for breath.

"That is," he murmured, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "One way to put it."

You laughed, still dizzy, and collapsed against his chest. He pulled the blanket back up around the both of you, his hands smoothing along your spine, soothing you as your breath came in pants.

The fire had burned low. Most of the room had fallen into shadow, and the chill of the air was starting to creep back in. Without a word, Elijah shifted, carefully disentangling himself from the mess of limbs and blankets.

“No,” you mumbled, arms wrapping tighter around his middle. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He chuckled softly. “Nowhere far, sweetheart.”

You let him go reluctantly, flopping onto your side as he stood. And then … well. You definitely didn’t regret letting him go.

The firelight kissed every plane of his body in soft orange-gold. You watched as he moved to the fireplace, unhurried and utterly unbothered to be naked, every muscle flexing as he bent to adjust the wood in the hearth. Strong shoulders, defined arms and the curve of his back… he looked like he should be carved into stone. He didn’t even have to look at you to know what you were thinking.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking back.

“You’re naked,” you shot back, pulling the blanket up to your chin, flushed and smiling.

He gave the fire one last nudge and turned, smiling in that infuriatingly composed way. “So I am.”

He crossed the room with slow, easy steps, the light catching the curves and ridges of his torso. Your gaze drifted lower, and he laughed, a low rumble in his chest. “You alright?”

You nodded, blushing.

He climbed back onto the couch, leaning in to kiss you, long and languid. When he pulled back, you were grinning, and he looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Was that alright?” you asked, voice small. “I know I can get… in my head. And the biting thing, it’s…”

He shook his head and kissed you again, gentle and certain, as if to hush every doubt before it could reach your lips.

“My love,” he said, brushing a knuckle down your cheek. “You are speaking to a vampire. You think I’d be scandalized by a few enthusiastic nibbles?”

You giggled, a little fluttery in your chest. He pulled the blanket closer, settling in beside you. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then the tip of your nose, then down to your jaw. He continued like that, peppering soft kisses all along the line of your jaw until he reached your ear. “I meant what I said. I want all of you. Even the parts you think are too much. Especially those.”

Your heart clenched.

You peeked up at him again, shy. “Even if I want to bite you like… all the time?”

He grinned. “Especially that.”

[kitkatkitzune]

ROMEO AND JULIET

Pairing: Theo Raeken x Fem!reader

Summary: Star crossed lovers, destined to end in tragedy.

Warnings: ANGST, Major character death, Semi-graphic description of a dead body, Suicide, Torment, Codependency, Hurt NO COMFORT, Bad ending for everyone, Dread Doctors

Notes: I know that canonically Theo didn’t learn how to take pain until 6B, in this, though, he learned way before then.

I’m so serious about the warnings, if you think anything is going to be too upsetting or triggering please do not read and take care of yourself!

Word Count: 2.1k

MASTER POST , TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

———————

The Dread Doctors traveled all across America, and all across America the doctors turned lives upside down. Your town would be no different.

You experienced their torment before they even took you. You would have the most awful nightmares and hallucinations, you were constantly looking over your shoulder as though you were being hunted and you were. There was the clicking sound you heard constantly, no matter what you did it wouldn’t go away and it was slowly driving you mad. Your parents took you to psychiatrists but none of them could help you.

Then it happened, you were only fourteen when you were taken from your local park and never seen again. You weren’t successful like Theo was but you weren’t unsuccessful like the others… so the Doctors didn’t kill you. They were determined to find out what made you, you. What made you different from the rest.

You were in constant pain but you never bled mercury like the others. Your skin had even begun to turn grey, your flesh rotting. Yet you remained in full control of your powers and you were powerful… Your body was rejecting the curse but at the same time, accepting it.

You weren’t a fan of Theo at first, he was arrogant and you were jealous of the fact he could walk around without feeling like his entire nervous system was being ripped out of him with each step. You were jealous he was able to get out of whatever dark cave the doctors had decided to make their hideout, jealous he could interact with other, real people, jealous that he didn’t have to hear the clicking all the time. You were angry as well, angry that he never got help, you knew realistically he couldn’t get help for you, no one could stop the Doctors, no one could fix you, not that anyone would believe him in the first place but it still angered you and you knew it was irrational.

It also angered you that he never ran, he stayed seemingly loyal to them. Again, it was irrational. You knew that if he ran they’d hunt him down but it made you so mad that he didn’t even try, as if he’d lost all hope but he had been with them a lot longer than you had. You didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to always be alone with them. And when you thought of that, you were glad he never ran.

Theo wasn’t a fan of you when you two first met. He was annoyed by your constant whining and bleeding. He couldn’t grasp why the Doctors wanted you around so badly when they had him, a chimera without performance issues. Deep down, he knew it stemmed out of jealousy, you were powerful, more than him, your body just couldn’t hold that power. He hated the fact that even while you were in pain, crawling on the ground, coughing up blood, you still fought against them. Why couldn’t he do that? Why couldn’t he be brave like you? He loathed you.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact day it happened. When he started to find comfort in your company, when you became a reminder that he wasn’t alone with them, not anymore. 

Contrary to popular belief and unlike his sister, Theo Raeken did have a heart. In fact, he had two. So when you reached for his hand for comfort, he no longer pulled away. Instead he’d intertwine his fingers with yours as you squeezed his hand in pain, sometimes even breaking his bones. He never complained about it, simply snapping his fingers back into place when you inevitably passed out from the pain.

But one day, something incredible happened, your pain began to subside and Theo’s veins turned black as he began to groan. He was taking your pain and he felt a surge of power with it. 

The Doctors found this new information fascinating. Theo would get stronger every time he took your pain, little surges here and there. What would happen if he took it all?

They wanted him to kill you.

Theo couldn’t, not when he looked down at you laying his lap, curled up, finally asleep, tears staining your face. He couldn’t when you’d manage to crack some stupid joke in this awful situation. He couldn’t when you’d play with his hair. Theo couldn’t.

This was the first time he had disobeyed their orders. The Dread Doctors would take advantage of Theo’s affections for you. If they had control over Theo before, now they owned him. They could make him do whatever they wanted with the simple threat of hurting you, of killing you.

Your relationship was codependent, he needed your power and you needed him to live. But when you arrived in Beacon Hills, you began to feel forgotten. Theo was gone much more often than normal. You were stuck alone with the Doctors more often than not but everytime Theo would return, he would take your pain. He told you of his plan, to take Scott’s power. He was confident that with Scott’s power, he would be strong enough to take all of yours.

There was always a sinking feeling in your stomach that once Theo took Scott’s power that he would no longer need you, that he would simply discard you. You never spoke those thoughts out loud, but Theo could tell just by looking at you. He would take your hand, hold you close, and silence those thoughts without a single word.

After all, that made no sense- if he simply wanted your power, he would have killed you all those years ago when the Dread Doctors asked.

Theo felt like a failure after Liam failed to kill Scott. He felt like he had failed you but it was no matter, he had a back up plan…

You felt even more alone when he raised his pack of chimeras, you were hidden away from them all. He even tried to keep you away from the Doctors, he was worried they’d come after you due to his interest in the Beast.

Jealousy bubbled up inside of you when you noticed Tracy’s obvious feelings for Theo, scoffing everytime the first chimera would mention her name. He’d chuckle and shake his head, reminding you that he was simply using her before pressing a kiss to your forehead. That fact was proven after he stabbed his claws into her back, stealing her power and effectively killing her.

Everything was going perfect. Theo had Josh’s power, he had Tracy’s power, and he had the talons to take Scott’s.

Everything was going perfect, until it wasn’t.

When Theo would face off against the McCall pack in the tunnels, Kira Yukimura would stab her sword into the ground to temporarily open a gate to hell. This would release his dead sister just long enough for her to drag him into hell all while he screamed for Scott’s help. Not for himself though, for “her”, for you.

Theo was gone, your Theo was gone. You swore you could feel it when it happened, maybe the Doctors had somehow made you part banshee or maybe you and Theo were just that connected.

Scott McCall and his pack walked away like nothing had happened and to anyone else, nothing had. There was no evidence that anything had ever gone on in the tunnels, not even a crack in the ground. But still, you found the exact spot he had been in, the exact spot where the ground had crumbled under him.

You could still feel him as you laid on the ground, running your hand along the concrete as bloody tears filled your eyes, clouding your vision til you could only see red. Soon enough you would become tired, too tired, and you would be forced to close your eyes and allow sleep to take you one last time. It was unclear whether you died from the physical pain you felt or if you died from the pain of losing him. Perhaps it was both.

Regardless of the reasoning, your body was left in the tunnels for months to slowly rot all alone. That is until Liam Dunbar decided they needed Theo to deal with the Ghost Riders and came to the tunnels to bring him back. The moment that he and Hayden stepped foot into the tunnels they were greeted with the foul stench of death which only grew as they traveled further in.

Hayden gasped upon seeing your corpse, even if she had known you, she wouldn’t have been able to tell, your body was deformed and rotted. Liam and Hayden shared a look, deciding it best to move your body before reviving the first chimera. Liam noted the maggots crawling across your flesh. He wrapped his jacket around his hands before moving you- he would throw it away later.

Liam was certain that the moment Theo came back, he would try to attack them, which was almost accurate. His eyes glowed gold, his claws and fangs extended, but then he froze and slowly retracted his claws. Theo’s eyes snapped to your body and he was on the ground and at your side in a second.

Your skin was discolored and flaking away with maggots and all sorts of pests nipping at it. But still, Theo recognized you and he still found you beautiful. Carefully, he pulled you into his arms. He didn’t care when the bugs began to crawl onto his skin, at least he was holding you again. What was most jarring was the fact you were so cold, Theo remembered you being so warm but now you felt like ice.

He began to brush your hair from your face just as he had done so many times before, trying to ignore how much of your hair had started to fall out in his hands.

“Friend of yours?” Hayden asks, mockingly.

Theo’s eyes snap up towards the two werewolves standing in front of him. Liam’s eyes widened when he saw the tears on Theo’s face, it was hard to believe the chimera could care for anyone other than himself. It felt like another manipulation tactic.

Liam clears his throat, “We need your help.”

Theo’s gaze fell back to you in his lap, you looked peaceful, just like you did when you’d sleep.

“No,” his voice was hoarse, likely from screaming in Hell.

“Or we’ll send you back.”

Theo’s body tenses at the threat before he forces himself to relax again, ‘I don’t care, send me back, it doesn’t matter anymore,’ he wants to say, but he doesn’t.

“Fine…” he says, looking up at them, “but at least let me say goodbye…”

Hayden and Liam share a look before Liam nods, “Okay… we’ll let you have a minute… but you’re helping us.”

Liam put his hand on Hayden’s back to lead her away from you and Theo when he noticed her hesitation. Theo was a monster but even a monster deserves a moment of privacy to say goodbye.

Theo held you close to him, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. He held your hand and closed his eyes, remembering the way it felt when you’d intertwine your fingers with his. Then slowly, he brought his other hand to his neck and ripped into his own flesh, deep enough that it wouldn’t heal, practically decapitating himself.

When returning, Hayden gasped again, this time at the sight of both your body and his. Theo Raeken was dead and this time, he wasn’t coming back.

This was their final plan, their last ditch effort to beat the Ghost Riders. They needed Theo, and without him, they’d fail. No one would ever remember Stiles and slowly but surely the Wild Hunt would come, taking everyone- one by one until no one was left.

No one but Lydia Martin, who was left all alone in her mind to go insane, haunted by her family, haunted by her friends, and haunted by the dead lovers who were left to rot in the tunnels that became their tomb.

[kitkatkitzune]

Can we still send kol requests ? I always come and re read your kol fics, im so in love with them 🫶🏻🫶🏻

First of all, thank you so much for your support!! I’m so happy that you enjoy my fics!!

I typically always accept requests!! Send in requests for TVDU, HOTD, or Teen Wolf!! I love to hear your guys’ ideas but please remember that I am just one person and writing takes time!!

I’m also going to use this ask to note that requesting something does not guarantee it will be written!! I will pick the ideas that I like the most - if an idea is something that doesn’t appeal to me, I likely won’t write it, I also don’t write smut.

With that being said- please, please send in your thoughts and requests!! I love to see them!

[kitkatkitzune]

Omg. The Darkness.

Wow. I've never been so into a Salvatore sister fic before. But that was amazing.

Thank you 🤗❤️

I’m so happy that you enjoyed it!!! 🥰 It’s one of my favorite things I’ve written so it makes me happy to see so many people enjoying it!!

Link to “The Darkness”

[kitkatkitzune]

STEPPING UP

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your daughter attends a daddy daughter dance.

Warnings: Mention of young pregnancy?, An absentee father, A drunk man, A tiny bit of angst, inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (whoopsie)

Notes: I’m obsessed with this concept and I’m not sorry… also your daughter is named after Rory from Gilmore Girls. Sorry not sorry.

I’m going to start trying to post more consistently, I promise!! I’ve been busy lately, I swear I haven’t disappeared!!

Word Count: 2.1k

MASTER POST , TVDU MASTERLIST

———————

When you picked your daughter up from school, you instantly knew that something was wrong. Rory was usually very bubbly and outspoken, excited to tell you all about her day but today, she was silent, leaning her head on the window as you drove home.

You really knew something was wrong when she instantly dropped her bookbag and ran to her room the second you stepped inside your apartment.

Being a single mother was hard, you had Rory when you were relatively young with your now ex-boyfriend. He would pop up every once in a while to say hi but he was never a constant in your or your daughter's life. It had also made dating hard, most men would run the second you mentioned your child, it was hard to find one that wouldn’t.

Still, your daughter always comes first which is why you drop your phone on the couch, ignoring the message from Elijah (a man you had been talking to) so you can follow Rory to her room.

You stand in the doorway for a moment before moving to sit on the edge of her bed. Rory had her face buried in her pillow, shaking as she sobbed. She doesn’t react when the bed dips from your weight but she does react when you begin to rub her back. She tenses up before beginning to sob harder.

Suddenly she turns and sits up, throwing herself into your arms, “Mama…”

You shush her softly, still rubbing her back as she cries. Once she mostly calms down you pull back, brushing some of her hair from her face while she hiccups.

“What happened, baby?” you ask softly.

“Why don’t I have a daddy?” she asks, eyes glimmering with tears.

You frown, “Sweetie, you do, he’s just… he’s not… around… much… you know this… sometimes you get to go out to eat with him… remember?”

Rory sniffles, rubbing at her eyes, “Everybody else has a daddy around! Why don’t I get one?”

“Rory…” you say quietly but she interrupts you, “Why can’t Mr. Elijah be my daddy?”

So maybe Elijah was more than just ‘a man you had been talking to’. You had been seeing Elijah for a little over a year, he had never been bothered by Rory, in fact, he’s quite good with her. The seemingly stoic man would play dress up and attend tea parties every time your daughter asked. He always made an effort to accommodate for her as well, always willing to adapt plans at the last minute. He understood and accepted the fact that the two of you were a package deal.

Your face flushes at the mention of Elijah, because you really did like him and you really hoped that your relationship could continue to bloom.

Pulling Rory back into a tight hug, you sigh, “Baby, what brought this up?”

She doesn’t answer, only nuzzling further into neck. You decide not to push her, allowing her to cling onto you until she falls asleep. It was the weekend so you weren’t too worried about messing up her sleep schedule. Carefully, you pull her off of you and tuck her into bed before going back to the living room.

On your way, you pick up her backpack, opening it to check her homework folder when something catches your eye. It’s a flyer from the school, advertising the daddy daughter dance next month. You let out a sigh as you connect the dots, realizing why your daughter was so upset.

A week had passed since the initial incident and Rory had mostly moved on from it. Still, you could tell she was distraught about it so you decided you were going to make a tough call. Literally.

Rory was still at school while you stood in the kitchen next to Elijah, with your phone in your shaking hand. Reluctantly, you dial your ex's number. You had thought about asking Elijah to take Rory, it was her first thought after all, and even though he clearly loves the girl and cares for her, you didn’t want to risk burdening him.

After the third ring Jonathan answered, “Who is this?”

You let out a sigh, trying your best to not let your voice shake, “It’s Y/N.”

“What do you want?” he asks, his tone clearly annoyed.

You stand up straighter even though he can’t see you, clearing your throat, “Rory has a dance…”

“So?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh, “It’s a daddy daughter dance… I’m calling to ask if you’d take her… so she isn’t… excluded…”

There’s silence for a moment and you feel rage beginning to bubble up in you but just as you’re about to yell at him he answers, “When is it?”

“It’s on the 30th, three weeks away at 6pm.”

Jonathan hums, “Alright, I’ll be there- and I'll even take her out to eat before, that way I can get the court mandated, monthly dinner out of the way at the same time.”

You decide it best to bite your tongue, your daughter was the sweetest little girl you ever could have asked for, you never understood how Jonathan couldn’t love her- why he didn’t want to spend time with her. He hardly follows the custody agreement, never really wanting to see her but anything you needed to get his permission for- like a small trip to the beach, he would not grant, just to upset you and keep a sense of control over you and your daughter.

Instead, you thank him, not wanting to be on the phone any longer. When you hung up, Elijah began to rub your back, pulling you to his chest to kiss your forehead.

And when your daughter got home, she was ecstatic to hear that her father would be taking her to the dance, she immediately asked to go dress shopping.

Working as a server, you weren’t super wealthy and had no choice but to set a limit on the amount you could spend on a dress for her. Unfortunately, Rory fell in love with a gorgeous, flowery, blue dress that was way out of the budget. Fortunately, Elijah was there, and he insisted on paying, even before Rory had picked out a dress outside of what you could afford. You told him that you’d pay him back but he refused.

“Seeing Rory’s little face light up is more than enough payment.”

Everything was going great until the night of the dance came. The dance didn’t start until 6pm but Johnathan said that he’d be there at 4pm to take her out to eat but he never showed up and now he wasn’t answering his phone.

Rory was sitting at the table, watching the clock that she had just learned how to read in school with a sad expression on her face.

You turn away from her, walking down the hall with your phone pressed to your ear, practically growling into the phone as you leave another voicemail, “Jonathan. This is the seventh time I’ve called you. It’s 4:30, where the hell are you?!”

When you walk back into the room, Rory immediately looks up at you. “Dad’s not coming, is he?”

You sigh, setting your phone on the counter, crouching in front of her, “I’m so sorry, baby,” you hold her hands in yours and smile sadly.

Just as the first tear is about to fall from her eyes, the doorbell rings, making Rory perk up, assuming it was her father. You, on the other hand, had a feeling that it wasn’t.

And it wasn’t. Rory flung open the door just as you appeared behind her, revealing Elijah, dressed in a fancy suit as he always was.

Rory let out a little sigh, “Oh, it’s you.”

Elijah frowns, crouching down in front of her, “You, Rory, should be at your favorite diner, eating fried mozzarella sticks like the picky child you are.”

You had invited Elijah over for a date night, you didn’t often get time alone together and you thought the dance would be the perfect opportunity to have a few hours to yourself.

“He… he’s not coming, I don’t think…” Rory began to rock back and forth on her heels, looking at the floor.

“Well, I think, he just needs a little reminder,” Elijah responds, standing up and for a moment, just a moment, you could have sworn you saw the veins beneath his eyes, ripple.

“Really?” Rory grins.

You take a step forward and press a kiss to the corner of Elijah’s mouth, you whisper, “Elijah… I, he’s probably drunk… you’re not going to be able to convince him…”

He hums, “Trust me, Darling, I can be very persuasive… and if not, I have another plan,” he then turns to your daughter, “just be ready Rory, you will be going to that dance.”

Elijah knocked on the door and straightened out his cufflinks, moments later it swung open to reveal Jonathan, in only his boxers, clearly not ready to go anywhere.

Jonathan looks Elijah up and down, “Did you miss the- the no soliciting sign?” his speech was slurred, a clear sign that he had been drinking.

Elijah raises a brow, “I am not here to sell you anything, I am here to tell you that you made a previous commitment to your daughter, Rory.”

“Oh hell,” Jonathan scoffs, “Let me- let me guess, you’re… you’re the whores new guy? She sent you here to what? Scare me?”

Elijah’s jaw clenches before he lets out a breath. He wanted nothing more than to grab the drunk man and put the fear of God into him, maybe even kill him. But alas, he could not, Jonathan still stood safely in the doorway of his home that Elijah had not been invited into.

“The stupid little bitch is fine… no dance, she’ll cry for a day before she forgets and moves on… she’s just a dumb kid…”

It would only take one toe out the door, Elijah told himself, only one drunken move out the door and I could strangle him.

Which is exactly what would happen.

It seemed that Elijah’s lack of response angered Jonathan, the drunken man leaned forward, his hand curling around the door frame and that was all Elijah needed. In a second, he had the man pinned to the side of the house by his throat.

Jonathan’s legs dangle as he desperately tries to touch the ground, gasping for breath.

Elijah had come here to convince Jonathan to go to the dance but the way he spoke about you, about your daughter, gave him a new purpose.

“You’re going to relinquish custody of Rory, granting Y/N full custody. And afterwards, you’ll never bother either of them even again…” Elijah releases his grip a bit, allowing Johnathan to slide down the wall.

The drunken man is horrified, “I’ll… I’ll go to the cops!”

“You won’t,” Elijah grins, pupils dilating.

When Elijah returned back to your home, there were only thirty minutes left before the dance started. Rory was sitting on the counter when he walked through the door, carrying a little bouquet of blue and white flowers.

“M’lady,” he greets you, before approaching Rory, holding the flowers out for her to take, “These are for you, sweet pea.”

Rory smiles and throws herself into his arms, he picks her up with ease, holding her on his hip.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t make him come… but I can take you, if you’d like… and if that’s okay with your mother…”

You smile softly, “Of course that’s okay with me.”

Rory clutches the flowers to her chest, “I wanted you to take me in the first place…”

Elijah looks at you, raising a brow, “Is that so?”

You sigh, “I didn’t want you to feel obligated…”

He chuckles, walking over to press a kiss to your forehead, “I never feel obligated when it comes to my favorite girls,” he turns his head to look at Rory, who he’s still holding, “Now we must go. There’s a dance waiting for us.”

“Wait wait!” you call out just as they’re about to reach the door, “I need a picture.”

After the dance, Elijah would take Rory to her favorite restaurant where she would eat her fried mozzarella sticks.

And days later, you received a letter in the mail from Jonathan’s lawyer, declaring he wanted to relinquish his custody rights, granting you full custody.

Finally, you could begin your new life with your daughter and your lover.

[kitkatkitzune]

KITKATKITZUNE.

My name is Kit and I have been writing for a few years now but I have never posted anything because I’ve always been too nervous, but with the encouragement of a few friends I finally found the courage to do so!

MASTER LISTS— I enjoy writing for TVDU, HOTD, and TEEN WOLF. This list may grow in the future!!

REQUESTING— Feel free to request for any of the fandoms listed above, please note that I do NOT write smut, I will write implied smut at most. I primarily enjoy writing angst and fluff.

If you are unsure if I write for a certain character, just ask! Requests will take time and I reserve the right to deny any request. Please be kind and respectful when requesting.

TAG LIST— I currently do not have a tag list and have no plans to create one, If you wish to be notified when I post, please turn on notifications!

FINAL THINGS— Likes, reblogs, and comments mean the world to me!! I really hope you are able to find something you like and decide to stick around!

Please do not copy or steal any of my writings.

Note: I made a post similar to this one when I first started this account but have decided to create an updated one.

[kitkatkitzune]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

★ - indicates personal favorite!

return to master post

JACAERYS VERLARYON

Petals ★ (angst)

Summary: You love flowers and you love Jace, it’s a shame you’ll die because of them.

[kitkatkitzune]

This is filthyyyyyy oh my gosh…

I know it says that she was whispering and that the others couldn’t hear her… but there’s no way those original vampires couldn’t hear the dirty stuff she was whispering in Elijah’s ear 🫣

&& I love the gossip and of course my Kol crumbs!!

Hello love, I love your storiess <33

Could you maybe write something with Elijah and the reader being in a relationship for years now, and they have really good sex, but the reader is annoyed that he never lets go and tries to rile him up and turn him on and in the end the reader gets fucked by a very annoyed Elijah.

It would be so cool if you'd include like maybe he spanking her with his belt or maybe he edges her

Behind Closed Doors

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

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} You knocked on the red door. Elijah answered.

♡♡ Thank you for the request beautiful anon!!! This is pure filth...enjoy♡♡

5.4k words - Warnings: smuttt, some {tender} red door elijah, rough sex, light bondage {with a belt}, spanking (also with belt), oral {m receiving}, overstimulation, chasing, giggles, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, choking, teasing gone wrong {or very, very right}, possessive behavior, mild blood-drinking, some sibling gossip && elijah hating pda ...

Rousseau’s was packed.

The music was low, thudding underfoot, glasses clinking somewhere behind the bar, and the warm press of bodies made the air thick. You had squeezed into a corner table with Rebekah, Kol, Klaus, and Elijah... which meant it was already a little cramped.

When Kol stole your chair…loudly and dramatically, claiming his legs hurt … you didn’t even hesitate. You just smiled sweetly and slid sideways into Elijah’s lap.

His body tensed the second you settled there.

You felt it, the way he stiffened under you, like a live wire pulled too tight. His hand landed on your thigh almost instinctively, meant to steady you, but his fingers dug in a little too firmly to be casual.

You pretended not to notice.

You leaned back against him, all innocence, tucking your legs across his lap and resting your head lightly on his shoulder.

Across the table, Kol snickered into his drink.

"Looks like someone's getting cozy tonight," he said, raising his eyebrows at Elijah.

"You steal my chair and then comment on where I chose to sit next? Rude," you quipped back.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh no, darling. You can sit wherever you want." He winked. "I'm just not used to seeing my big brother allow such blatant PDA."

"What's PDA?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and even, his face carefully blank.

Rebekah and Kol burst out laughing, and Klaus shook his head in amusement.

You didn't say anything. You just smiled, sipped your drink, and ran your fingers lightly over the back of Elijah’s neck. 

"PDA, brother, means public display of affection," Kol said, still snickering. "It's not your style. Always the gentleman, never letting on what goes on behind closed doors."

"How enlightening," Elijah replied coolly, taking a long sip of his bourbon. 

He didn’t look pleased that this was the subject of conversation. He was still tense under you, jaw set, breathing measured. He was clearly holding himself back, fighting his darker instincts. You knew Elijah tried very hard to keep his more violent urges locked away, hidden behind that invisible red door he never fully opened for anyone.

Not even you… at least not yet.

Klaus raised his hand to order another round, and Rebekah and Kol began discussing the latest gossip in New Orleans. You didn't contribute, too busy pressing a soft kiss to Elijah’s neck, just below his ear.

"If only they knew what you're like in private," you murmured, lips brushing his skin. "They'd never look at you the same way."

He turned his head slightly, looking down at you. Not amused … but you could see the heat burning in his eyes.

"Don't start something you don't intend to finish," he warned, it was clear he wasn't in the mood for your teasing.

"What would the gentleman do if I did?" you prodded, unable to resist chipping away at his resolve, biting his earlobe softly.

"Careful," he said, an edge sharpening his voice now.

"Or what?" you asked, tauntingly.

He ignored you, turning back to his siblings. Rebekah leaned forward, smirking playfully.

"So, you know how I keep in touch with Matt Donovan?" she began, looking around the table.

"Unfortunately," Klaus said dryly, earning a chuckle from Kol.

Rebekah shot her brothers a glare but continued. "Well, apparently Elena and Damon were caught in a rather compromising situation."

"Classy," Kol snorted, shaking his head.

"Wait, there's more," Rebekah insisted, eyes glittering with mischief. "Stefan was the one who... uhh, discovered them."

"Ooh, scandalous," Kol joked.

Klaus tilted his head thoughtfully. "I never understood the doppelgängers' fondness for Damon. He always seemed rather insufferable."

Kol snickered loudly. "We all know you'd choose Stefan, Nik, you don't have to say it."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, amused. "What do you think, then, Kol? Damon or Stefan?"

"Please," Kol scoffed dramatically. "Neither. Elena is far too lovely for the Salvatores."

"Aww," Rebekah crooned. "That's rather sweet coming from someone she killed once."

"I'm a man of forgiveness," Kol shrugged. "I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

Klaus smirked. "You want to sleep with her, don't you?"

Kol raised his hands, laughing. "Who here wouldn't?"

There was a brief silence before they all began laughing again.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Klaus chuckled.

"She does have a certain charm," Rebekah agreed with a grin.

Elijah sighed loudly, drawing all eyes toward him. "Frankly, it’s beneath us to gossip about the romantic entanglements of a young woman we are no longer associated with."

You had to fight not to smile at the irritation in his tone.

"Yes, yes, old man," Kol sighed dramatically. "We were only having a bit of fun."

"You have a strange definition of fun," Elijah shot back dryly.

You decided it was the perfect moment to step in and make things worse. "So if I were to call her up and ask her to join us in the bedroom," you said sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes, "you would object to that?"

His siblings barely contained their giggles as they waited eagerly for his answer.

Elijah's jaw tightened slightly, but his tone remained measured and diplomatic. "I only have eyes for you, my love. And I do not share."

"Oh, I'm so lucky," you crooned dramatically, reaching up to pat his cheek lightly.

His siblings laughed, raising their glasses in a mock toast, and the conversation drifted into lighter territory. It was the perfect cover.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, "You're wound so tightly tonight," you whispered, tracing a fingertip slowly down the sharp line of his jaw. "I can't wait until we're alone. I wonder what will happen…"

You felt him swallow hard, his entire body going taut beneath you. His fingers tightened almost painfully on your thigh, betraying the effort it took to keep his composure.

"Careful," he breathed, so quiet that only you could hear him.

You smiled softly against his skin, knowing you had finally broken through. "I keep thinking about how good your cock would feel stretching my throat right now," you murmured, deliberately filthy, knowing every word would hit its mark. "How heavy you'd be on my tongue…"

His breathing went ragged, uneven, his composure visibly fraying at the edges. You knew you had pushed him to the brink, soon to shatter whatever remained of his careful restraint.

You sat back, smiling innocently at his siblings as if you hadn't just whispered pure filth into Elijah Mikaelson’s ear.

The others were completely oblivious, still joking and laughing, watching a live performance that had begun. But Elijah was silent, his eyes dark with barely-contained heat.

"When can we leave?" you asked quietly, so only he heard.

Elijah turned his head just enough to brush his lips against your ear again. His voice was velvet-soft, but held a promise sharp enough to make your breath catch.

"Be careful what you wish for."

You barely made it through the lobby of your building before Elijah’s footsteps were right behind you. Sharp, deliberate, closing in fast.

Your heart was pounding, breathless laughter bubbling out of you, caught somewhere between genuine excitement and playful panic. The stairwell echoed with your footsteps as you raced upwards, gripping the railing, nearly stumbling in your haste. 

For a fleeting second, something primal tightened low in your belly. It wasn’t fear exactly, but the dizzy, thrilling knowledge that the man chasing you wasn't just anyone. There was something else prowling beneath his skin, something he kept caged behind that door you were foolish enough to keep knocking on.

"Elijah-!-wait!" you gasped, voice pitching up into a squeal when you felt his fingers just brush the edge of your dress. But you didn't want him to wait… not really… and he knew it, because he laughed softly, a low, wicked sound that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

Your laughter dissolved into a breathless gasp as you rounded the landing, fumbling for your keys. He was right there, close enough to grab you if he wanted, but he let you feel the rush a little longer, your blood pumping wildly.

You barely got the apartment door open before Elijah made his move, catching you easily around your waist and hauling you off your feet. You shrieked in delight, your pulse hammering wildly as he kicked the door shut behind him, pressing you firmly against it, trapping you between his body and the wood.

His breath was warm and ragged against your ear, his voice low and dark and deliciously threatening. "You wanted my attention," he whispered, lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. "Now you've got it."

Your head fell back against the door, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he pressed closer, his mouth trailing a hot path down the side of your neck. Your knees felt weak, your mind cloudy, drunk on adrenaline, desire, and the heady sensation of being hunted.

You didn't have to worry about staying upright, not with the way his strong hands were pinning you to the door, lifting your thighs so that you could wrap them around his hips.

"What are you going to do with me now that you have me?" you breathed, trying and failing to keep the needy tremble from your voice.

Elijah chuckled darkly, nipping at the soft skin at the base of your throat. "Oh, I think you know."

One hand tangled in your hair, pulling just hard enough to expose your throat. His fangs sank into your neck, a sharp, stinging bite that made you gasp and squirm. He drank deeply, tasting the wild, heady rush of your adrenaline … it made his own heart beat faster.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, his eyes clouded with lust.

"You're so hot like this," you cooed, brushing your fingertips across his bottom lip, smearing your blood there.

Elijah smiled, flashing his teeth, and then his mouth was on yours. Warm and demanding. The kiss was all fire and friction, teeth and tongues, messy and rough.

Still holding you against him, Elijah scooped you away from the door, your legs locked around his waist as he strode swiftly toward the bedroom. His mouth never left yours, the taste of your blood still sharp on his tongue.

Clothes became an obstacle and Elijah dealt with them swiftly, tugging your dress up and off in one fluid motion, barely breaking the kiss to do it. You fumbled impatiently at the buttons of this shirt, fingers shaky with need, then finally pulling it open and pushing it from his shoulders.

He dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark and dangerous as he stripped away his pants. Your pulse hammered at the sight of him above you. You had never seen him quite this worked up, you knew you were scratching at that door again, daring him to open it. Daring him to show you what he hid behind it.

Elijah moved over you, his head dipping to capture your lips, his hands pressed into the mattress next to your head, caging you beneath him. Your hands slid along his biceps, down the strong planes of his chest, fingertips dragging over the lean muscle. You could feel the power coiled there, the strength he always kept leashed. He was the perfect predator, and you were helpless against him.

But you enjoyed being kept under him, to let him do what he wanted. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart beating fast, eyes wide and vulnerable as you looked up at him. Because how he used all that power, how he wielded control, was absolutely delicious.

Elijah trailed his mouth down your jaw, nipping and sucking, his fangs pricking your skin, one of his hands sliding along your ribcage, fingertips grazing your lower stomach, just above the edge of your panties.

"Why would you say such crass things in public?" he whispered, his tone soft but firm, like a scolding, "where I could not properly respond to them?"

You giggled breathlessly, your head tipping back as his mouth moved over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Because I know exactly how to drive you wild," you teased.

His tongue swept a long, slow line across the top of your breast, and your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, a soft gasp falling from your lips. You desperately wanted him to keep moving lower, but he had other ideas.

"You're a clever thing, aren't you?" he asked, his tone amused.

"I thought that's why you kept me around," you said, your words dissolving into a loud, startled gasp as his hand came down on your inner thigh, just below the lace edge of your underwear, the slap sharp enough to sting.

You felt a rush of heat as his fingers curled around the fabric, ripping it off without hesitation.

"Elijah—"

"Hush," he cut you off sharply.

You bit your lip but couldn't contain a needy whimper as he dipped his head, giving you one, slow, tantalizing lick, all the way from your entrance to your clit, and then he pulled back. 

You groaned, frustrated, and squealed in surprise when his hand came down on your cunt, a firm, sharp slap that had you gasping and shaking.

"What did I say?" he scolded, his tone dark and dangerous.

"Please," you begged, not caring how needy you sounded.

"You aren't listening." 

You yelped as he grabbed your hips, flipping you over and hauling you up onto your knees.

"Keep your face down, and don't move," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You felt his weight leave the bed, heard the soft rustle of his clothes as he picked them up, then the unmistakable sound of his belt sliding free from his pants. Your heart was pounding, anticipation and fear and a rush of arousal tangling in your chest. You didn't turn to look, didn't dare disobey, even though every instinct screamed at you too.

His belt cracked through the air. A sharp, commanding sound that made you flinch, even though he hadn't touched you yet. You waited, counting your breaths, knowing he was watching.

"Will you listen? Or should I bind you?" he asked.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to taunt him, knowing you were already playing with fire. "I'll listen," you promised.

"Good."

The bed dipped under his weight, his hands curling over your ass, his thumb brushing along the curve. And then his palm cracked against your bare skin, hard enough to make your whole body jerk forward, your thighs trembling from the impact.

"We’re going to play a little game," Elijah said softly, dangerously, his fingertips gently stroking the reddened skin he just marked. "You count each one. If you lose track, I'll bind your wrists and do what I please with you. Understood?"

You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest. "Yes."

"Good."

His hand cracked down again, swift and merciless, making you jolt forward with a gasp.

"One," you choked out, fingers clawing into the sheets.

Another, sharper than the last, the sting blooming across your skin like fire.

"Two," you moaned, your thighs clenching helplessly.

Again. Again. The blows fell steady and cruel, each one breaking you down a little more, scattering your thoughts like leaves in a storm.

"S-six," you whimpered, your voice trembling with more than just pain now. With need.

Elijah paused, dragging his fingertips across the burning skin of your ass, the touch almost worse than the blows … too light, too knowing.

"Already struggling," he murmured, his voice dark velvet against your ear. "I thought you wanted to play, sweetheart."

You shuddered under his hand, humiliated, aroused, desperate.

Another crack. Another shuddering gasp. You barely remembered the number. "S-seven," you stammered, unsure.

He chuckled, low and wicked, the sound sinking into your bones.

"Poor thing," he crooned. "Already losing that clever mouth."

Two more sharp slaps, delivered in quick, brutal succession.

You cried out, your body jerking helplessly … pleasure and pain tangled so tight you could no longer tell the difference.

"Eight—no, Nine?" you whispered, wrecked, unsure, desperate to please him and failing.

Elijah's hand smoothed up your spine, his touch almost tender. Almost.

"You lost count," he murmured, with something dangerously close to affection. "You know what that means."

Before you could even beg, the belt was winding tight around your wrists, binding them behind your back. "There we go," Elijah whispered, kissing your shoulder. "Now we'll do this properly."

He guided you carefully onto your knees, his hands firm on your shoulders. Your wrists were still bound tightly behind your back, your heart hammering wildly at the helplessness of your position. 

The sting across your ass flared sharply as you shifted, the tender, bruised skin aching with every tiny movement. Elijah stood before you, one hand cupping your jaw, his thumb sliding across your bottom lip.

"What were your filthier words earlier?" he pondered, the dark velvet of his voice wrapping around you. "Something about wanting my cock stretching your throat?"

You felt your face heat, your pulse fluttering with embarrassment and need. But you didn't shy away, didn't back down. Instead, you parted your lips obediently, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Good girl," he praised softly, guiding the head of his cock to rest on your waiting tongue.

Your mouth stretched around him, a muffled moan vibrating in your throat as he pressed deeper, inch by slow inch. Elijah watched you intently, his eyes dark, his jaw tight with restraint, taking his time even as your breathing grew unsteady and tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

He began to move, slow and controlled at first, sliding carefully in and out of your mouth. Your throat tightened around him instinctively, fighting the invasion, making you gag softly. He groaned at the sensation, gripping your hair and holding your head steady as he began to thrust harder, faster.

"Look at you," he breathed, his voice ragged and low. "So desperate for me, aren't you?"

You whimpered around him, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, slicking your chin. It was messy, filthy, but you didn’t care. You were entirely his to use, bound and at his mercy, and you loved every second.

The raw throb of your spanked skin only made you more desperate, made you squirm helplessly against the burn, even as you fought to stay still and take him deeper.

He fucked your mouth brutally now, deep and unrelenting, the thick head of his cock battering the back of your throat with every thrust. Tears spilled down your cheeks unchecked, your jaw aching, your breath coming in short, shattered gasps whenever he gave you the mercy to take one… but he didn’t slow, he knew you could take it.

"You begged for this," he rasped, tightening his grip in your hair until your scalp burned, forcing you to look up at him. His vampire nature was bleeding through, dark veins spreading beneath his eyes, his pupils blown wide, a flash of fangs catching the low light.

"Such a perfect, filthy little thing for me," he growled.

Your eyes rolled back helplessly, the combination of his voice and the relentless way he was using your mouth sending your mind spinning, lightheaded and dizzy with need.

"There," he crooned, as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. His voice was wrecked with arousal, slowing his thrusts just enough to grind deep on every pass, causing you to gag around him with every deliberate stroke.

You sucked him eagerly, your tongue curling and swirling around him, moaning brokenly. He let you, let you work him over as he twitched against your tongue.

"You like this, don't you? Having my cock buried in your throat? Knowing how good it makes me feel?" he whispered, his voice low and dark, filled with pride.

You whined in agreement, desperate to please him, your eyes fluttering shut as he kept up his perfect rhythm. He groaned at the way your hands twisted in their bindings, at the sight of his cock disappearing over and over into the warmth of your mouth. You were so eager, so willing, taking him as deep as he wanted, moaning around him, begging without words.

He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping for breath, a strand of spit stretching from your lips to the head of his cock.

"On the bed," he snapped. "Ass up. Now."

You scrambled to obey, your body trembling, your wrists still bound tightly behind your back, leaving you helpless, vulnerable. The bed dipped violently under his weight as he shoved you down, yanking your hips high into the air.

The second your knees spread, the raw sting of your earlier spanking flared across your ass, sharp and punishing, and you whimpered brokenly, pressing your flushed cheek into the sheets.

Elijah didn’t wait. He didn’t tease. He grabbed your hips, lined himself up, and eased into you with a brutal thrust that punched a broken scream from your throat. You sobbed beneath him, unable to move, unable to breathe, the stinging throb of your bruised ass and the unbearable stretch of his cock wrecking you completely.

"You're mine," he growled. "Tied up and dripping, taking every fucking inch like you were made for me."

He drove into you hard and deep, the headboard slamming against the wall with every brutal thrust. Your bound hands strained uselessly against the belt, your body arching into him despite the merciless pace. Without warning, he brought his hand down sharply across your sore ass. You screamed, the fresh slap setting every nerve on fire, your pussy clenching around him.

"You are the one who wanted to make a show out of our private life," Elijah snarled, spanking you again, making you jolt and squirm helplessly under him. "This is what you get."

His pace was punishing, ruthless, his grip bruising, his voice rough and dark. You whimpered, overwhelmed, the angle letting him hit your g-spot with every thrust, sending heat racing through your veins.

"You wanted them to know what you turn me into?" Elijah growled, his hips pounding into you hard enough to shake the bed. "You wanted to show them the side of me you alone get to see?"

You sobbed out a broken yes, barely coherent, every nerve-ending lit up from the brutal pleasure of his cock pounding into you.

"Careful," he murmured, slowing his pace just enough to make you feel the full, aching stretch of him. "You might just get your wish, sweetheart. Maybe next time I'll fuck you on the bar table while they watch. Let them see what I do to you."

He shifted slightly, angling his hips until every brutal snap of his body against yours crushed that sensitive spot inside you again and again. You couldn't hold it back even if you tried. The orgasm ripped through, tearing a raw, broken sob from your throat as your body clamped down around him, your vision going white.

"That's it," he purred, slowing only slightly, fucking you through the aftershocks, wringing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

You collapsed into the bed, boneless and whimpering … but Elijah wasn’t finished. Not yet.

Somewhere, dimly, you realized you had gotten exactly what you asked for. You had teased the gentleman and unleashed something far darker, far hungrier, from behind the red door he had always kept locked.

And now there was no more pretending, no more polite restraint … only Elijah, brutal and merciless, intent on taking every last piece of you.

Without warning, he pulled out, flipping you roughly onto your back. Your hands were still bound behind you, your body trembling, your eyes glassy with pleasure-drunk need.

He leaned over you, his face fierce and devastatingly beautiful, his fangs flashing just slightly behind parted lips. For a moment you felt real fear, a flutter of instinctual panic. Perhaps you had pushed him too far, that he wasn't temporarily indulging or even pretending, but actually taking what he wanted.

He seemed to sense it, and his expression softened slightly, just for a moment, his eyes dark with hunger, but not malicious. He leaned down, nuzzling the soft skin just below your jaw, the tenderness a stark contrast to the violence of his need.

"You're mine, understand?" he murmured against your ear, his voice rough. "You belong to me."

"Yes," you breathed.

His hands curled under your thighs, lifting and spreading them, pinning them back toward your chest, the angle made you feel so exposed. his dark eyes locked on yours, watching your face as he pushed slowly into you. You were slick, swollen, but still so sensitive that his sudden return had you squirming against him, whimpering with overstimulation.

You let out a strangled gasp as you felt the slow, maddening drag of his fingers over your clit. Light, teasing, circling, while his cock stayed buried deep inside you. You whined, needing more, hips twitching against his restraint, but Elijah only shushed you gently, his fingers never lifting, his cock grinding slowly inside you with the barest roll of his hips.

"So sensitive," he whispered, his lips brushing your own. "My poor girl..."

Your bound wrists were pinned and straining under you, your head nodding frantically, overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer intensity of it, from how tender and ruthless he was all at once.

"You're going to come again and again and again...," he said, his voice so calm it almost broke you. "You're going to milk my cock like the desperate little whore you are. And I'm not going to stop until you're begging properly."

You tried to protest, the words barely formed on your tongue, but Elijah cut you off with a kiss, "Do you like this?" he whispered, swallowing your cry as he sank deeper, mercilessly rubbing your clit, lighting every nerve.

"Elijah," you pleaded, the word almost a sob, caught somewhere between a plea and a moan.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, his smile wicked, his eyes dark.

You weren't sure how long he worked you over, how many times he pushed you to the brink, only to let the waves subside, keeping you suspended in blissful torture. He kept you balanced on the edge, a desperate, needy, writhing mess. It was too much, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All of your senses had narrowed down to only him, to the heat of his body and the smell of his skin, the feel of his touch.

He watched you intently, the way your face flushed, your eyelashes fluttering, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the soft, helpless whimpers falling from your lips. You were perfect, utterly his, and completely undone.

"Come for me," Elijah whispered against your ear, thrusting just a little deeper, rolling his hips in tight, devastating circles. "Show me what a good girl you are. Show me how you come apart on my cock."

You shattered with a scream, your entire body locking up, pulsing and spasming around him, stars bursting behind your eyes as your orgasm ripped through you. But Elijah didn’t stop … his eyes black and wild as he fucked you through it. He kept his pace slow and punishing, wringing every trembling aftershock from your wrecked body, his fingers still teasing your clit, driving you past the point of reason.

"I know, baby," he breathed when you sobbed, trying to squirm away. "I know it's too much. But you can take it. You always take it for me."

Your body trembled violently, tears streaming freely down your cheeks, but your pussy kept clenching around him, your body betraying you, desperate for every slow, deep grind of his cock inside you.

"You love it," he whispered, reverent. "My good, beautiful girl. You love being so full of me you can't think straight."

He leaned down, claiming your mouth in a kiss, licking away the salt of your tears, sucking and nipping at your lips.

"One more," he coaxed, his voice low and gentle. "Come on. Give me one more."

"I can't," you begged. "Please, Elijah, I can't—"

"You can," he murmured, his hand curling around your throat, the pressure careful but firm, holding you in place.

The angle forced you to look up at him, his expression so tender and adoring, a sharp contrast to the roughness of his movements, the tightness of his grip. Your hands clenched helplessly at the belt binding your wrists, unable to stop the soft, choked moan that fell from your lips as he began to thrust faster, harder. His vampiric nature had taken over entirely, his face savage and feral, his eyes black and wild.

And then he struck, his fangs piercing the skin of your neck, a bright, burning flash of pain. His bloodlust was raw and desperate, but he still had control, drinking only enough to push you over the edge, not caring about the mess you made on the sheets as you came with a helpless, broken wail.

You could barely breathe, could barely hear his broken, stuttered groans, could barely feel the rush of wet heat as he spilled inside you, reaching his own release. You lay there, shaking, limp and helpless, as his mouth found yours again. A tender, lingering kiss, filled with something far deeper than just the passion.

"I've got you," he murmured against your lips.

It took several long moments, and his careful, steady hands, before he was able to untangle the belt from around your wrists, tossing the leather aside. Your arms dropped limp once Elijah finally freed them, tingling and sore from being pinned so long. He caught them gently, brushing kisses along your wrists and the palms of your hands, checking the tender skin for damage.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his expression worried. "I didn't mean to be so rough."

"I'm fine," you hummed lazily, letting him fuss over you a little, sprawling back across the sheets like you had all the time in the world. You were wrecked, sure, your thighs still trembling, your whole body aching, but you felt good, wild and fucked-out and smug about it.

"I'm sorry," Elijah insisted.

You sighed, sitting up, cupping his cheek in your palm. "Hey," you murmured, drawing his gaze back up to yours. "Don't apologize. That was amazing."

"I hurt you," he said, his brows drawing together in worry.

"Yeah, and I loved every second," you teased, smiling up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "It's kind of the point, remember?"

His expression softened slightly, his arms winding around your waist and pulling you against him, your foreheads pressed together.

"You're a menace," he said, voice rough but amused as he brushed his lips against yours. "A beautiful, dangerous menace."

"Can't help it," you murmured, grinning. "You bring it out of me."

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your skin. "Apparently I do," he admitted, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his voice softening, turning vulnerable. "Did I truly live up to your expectations?"

"Oh, Elijah," you breathed, tilting his face up to meet your gaze. "You always exceed them."

He smiled, his hands running soothingly up and down your sides, his lips grazing softly over the fresh bite mark on your throat.

Until you broke the moment.

"So," you said, voice a little too innocent, "would you really never consider sharing?"

Elijah stilled, then lifted his head enough to give you a dry, unimpressed look.

You batted your lashes shamelessly.

"I mean, Elena’s cute," you mused aloud, dragging a lazy finger down his chest. "Or Stefan. Broody in a hot way. Perhaps even Damon if I’m feeling particularly generous."

"You're impossible," Elijah groaned.

"I'm not hearing a no."

He sighed, "No, sweetheart," he said firmly, the hint of a threat in his voice. "I would rather gouge out my own eyes than offer you up to the Salvatores." His lips found yours again, the kiss hungry and possessive, filled with promise. "They're not worthy of you."

"I don't know," you whispered against his mouth, grinning. "Maybe I like the idea of you getting jealous."

Elijah growled under his breath, a low warning rumble, and kissed you again, even harder, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

When he pulled back, he hovered over you, his eyes dark.

"Say one more word about anyone else," he murmured, "and I’ll fuck you against every surface in this apartment until you forget their names."

Your thighs squeezed around him instinctively.

You smiled, smug and wrecked and unbothered. "Worth it."

Elijah shook his head, exasperated but smiling despite himself, the faintest trace of a blush coloring his cheeks. "You truly are a menace,”

You just laughed breathlessly, reckless and happy, already plotting how you would break him all over again.

[kitkatkitzune]

Ugh I’m obsessed, I love the wild west and cowboy vibes!! && I hope your friend enjoys their late birthday gift!!

you always did like clint eastwood [kol mikaelson x f!reader]

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange information ↳ taglist

synopsis: you and kol get stuck in 1800's western america

cw: era typical violence, surface level wild west research

authors note: this fic is for my friend (who wishes to remain anonymous) as a delayed birthday gift hehe. love you darling.

Understanding Kol Mikaelson was like a rainbow; sometimes it happened, but rarely ever. And when you really saw him, you found a sort of beauty people would never see. Today was not a rainbow day. Today was actually a really, really bad day. 

You're tired of being the Mikaelson's go-to witch. All it does is ruin your day and cause you too many bumps and bruises. And then there's Kol…Kol, who enjoys teasing you but will never let you get close enough to see what's going on beneath. It makes it hard to trust him. But you really need to trust him, especially right now. Because the latest spell in Klaus' hair-brained schemes has caused both you and Kol to end up in 1800s western America. Right in cowboy country. 

You really could kill him. 

If he hadn't distracted you, this portal spell wouldn't have sent you here. Instead, it would've brought something useful to you. But now you're stuck in an era where they really hate women, and they really hate witches. 

"I'm going to kill you," you hiss out. You're blinking back at the sun shining high above you. You're standing under the entrance of 'Willowbrooks'– a western town from Kol's understanding. The dust swirls around your feet and gets in your throat, not helping your sour mood. It didn't help that the name sounded familiar; you were trying to think about why.

"It could be worse," Kol laughed. He put a hand over his eyes as he observed a vulture flying overhead. "I never had the chance to be a proper cowboy."

"Probably for the best. You'd be a nightmare."

"I take offense to that," Kol smirked. "C'mon."

"To where?"

"This sign might be here, but that town is still a while away. We should get there before nightfall," Kol started walking without you, and you groaned as you ran to keep up. He would occasionally whistle, which would only aggravate your mood. Sometimes, he shared a joke that would make you wish for a quick death from wherever you were heading. Your walk took the rest of the day into the evening until you eventually entered an old western town. You both stuck out like sore thumbs. Kol, ever the lover of breaking the rules, immediately went toward a clothesline at the back of a building. He tossed you some articles of clothing haphazardly, with you barely catching them. 

"What are you doing?" you whisper, afraid to raise your voice. Kol starts undressing before you, and you quickly avert your gaze. 

"Blending in," he replies. You catch a glance at his body, abdomen toned in a way that wasn't entirely fair. Your cheeks burn as you look away. Standing around waiting for him to be done seemed foolish, so you find another place to hide as you quickly dress. The clothes didn't exactly fit, but you made it work. It was just a simple blue blouse with a long tiered skirt. You kept your combat boots, hoping that no one would notice. You didn't want to worry about locating your shoe size as well. By the time you went back to Kol, he was also clothed. Between the dark blue tunic and the black vest, he looked like the kinda devilish character that you'd want to avoid in one of these old Western movies. But to you, he was the safest thing around. 

"If anyone asks, darling," he gives you a look. "You're my wife, and we're visiting on our way to see family."

"If I'm your wife, don't expect me to be too nice about it," you smile. He just grins, fangs flashing. 

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Going to a saloon seemed stupid and cliche, but the only inn in Willowbrooks happened to be a saloon. You followed behind Kol, and despite his cavalier attitude about your adventure, he kept close to you and seemed to be observing everything that moved. He didn't feel safe here either. 

Unlike the movies, the saloon didn't come to a grinding halt when you both entered. A few stares were thrown your way, but fortunately, it wasn't as dramatic. You forgot that Kol lived in this time, which you guess was helpful because you probably would've gotten yourself killed if you were alone. He sidled up to the bar with no problem and requested a room, slipping into a western drawl that you didn't realize he had in him. You tried to observe your surroundings without being suspicious. Above the bar, a piece of paper advertised the special as a drink called "coffin varnish," which sounded as appetizing as one could imagine. The smell of the establishment left a lot to be desired and made you miss the glory of modern plumbing. But the thing that caught your eye was the glittering sheriff badge on a man sitting at the other end of the counter. He was in hushed conversation with another, maybe a deputy or just a friend, but you still managed to overhear some of it. 

"That damn Foley coven is getting on my nerves," the sheriff sighed, taking a swig of dark liquid. "Especially Elizabeth. It's bad for business."

"Lincoln already freed the damn slaves; what else do they want from us?" the other man shook his head, looking at his cup. 

"Easy. They want our heads," the sheriff chuckled, but it was an empty laugh of a tired man. 

"Whatcha going to do?"

"What I always do," the sheriff finished off his drink. "Take care of it."

You jolted as Kol wrapped an arm around your waist, distracting you from your eavesdropping. He raised a brow but didn't say anything, and you gave him a look that you'd tell him later. He took the hint and nodded towards the stairs that led to the rooms, with you following behind. The floor creaked beneath your feet as you ascended to your room, a tiny thing at the end of the hall with a washroom across from it. You sighed as you saw the one bed, but didn't have the mental capacity to deal with it. 

"This must be like one of your romance novels," Kol snorts as he takes in your tiny room. You sat down at the edge, undoing your shoes and ignoring him. "What, no witty comeback?"

"What if we're here for a reason?" you question, the thought circling your brain since leaving the bar. 

"What reason, this was a spell gone wrong," Kol leaned against the wall, looking at you inquisitively. 

"The sheriff down there wants to take out a coven of witches in the area, the Foley coven," you sat forward, hands on your knees. "I thought the name of this town sounded familiar, and now I remember why. The Foleys wanted to free the rest of the slaves on the western frontier, in addition to giving women more opportunities to work. But the town of Willowbrooks didn't want that. They ended up burning the head of the coven and set the two parties into a civil war. No one knew what happened to the Foley witches, and even today, if you visit the town, it's a ghost town. Literally."

"And this concerns us…?" 

"What if we're here to stop the fight from happening, to save a witch?" you looked at him, hope and fury in your eyes. "What if that's how we get home? By righting a past wrong?"

"You read too many stories," Kol sighed, running a hand over his face. 

"I don't know if we can save the witch that burns, maybe we aren't meant to. But I can't shake the feeling that we're here for a reason, and my witch's sense hasn't led me wrong yet." Kol continues to look at you with hesitation and tiredness. As you know, it wasn't in his nature to help. You were going to make him do it anyway. "Please?"

The internal battle waging war in Kol's mind made his eyes cloudy as he thought about what you said. He swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair. 

"We can…talk to the witches tomorrow," Kol said. "But we might not be able to change anything. Okay, darling?"

"Okay," you smiled, without malice for once since landing in this shitty town. "And Kol?" He looked at you. "Don't get handsy in the bed, or I'll cut them off." 

He grinned. 

~

Kol didn't touch you during the night, although he snored, which was fairly annoying. You woke up to the sight of him curled into a tight ball on the other side as if he was stopping himself from intruding on your personal space. It was the most respectful thing you've ever seen him do. 

By the time he woke, you had gotten dressed in some clothes you had stolen from another room (sorry, unsuspecting patron) and used the wash basin across the hall. You still felt dirty, and the heat from outside wasn't helpful, but it was better than nothing. You wish you could have a toothbrush, though. You also ventured downstairs to the main saloon. You tried to be inconspicuous when asking where the closest food place was. Fortunately, they had a kitchen right in the establishment, and you were able to eat some eggs, beef, and beans. You even had coffee, even if it tasted like dirt water. You debated saving something for Kol but remembered he wouldn't want any. 

You came back up the stairs to him, still lounging in bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Planning to stay here all day?" you inquired, leaning against the doorframe. He smiled at you, not as flirtatious as usual. "What's wrong?" you narrowed your eyes. Kol wasn't usually this silent. 

"It's…strange," he shrugged as best he could while lying down. 

"Strange?"

"Being in the past," Kol sat up a little bit. He had taken the vest off before bed, and the blue shirt underneath was crumpled with sleep. "I've forgotten so much of it."

You take pause at that statement. "Do you remember much of your life?"

"Bits and pieces, like anyone looking back on childhood, I suppose," Kol played with the bedsheets between his fingers. "I… don't think I was very nice during this era."

He sounds so sad about it, and the feeling leaves an uncomfortable ache in your chest. Was it regret in his voice? Or just commentary about who he was. Sometimes, you couldn't understand whether Kol was warning you away from him or explaining his actions. His statement also came with the startling realization that of the Mikaelsons, he was the one you feared the least. Strange considering his reputation, but it was knowledge you tucked deep inside for later. 

"I think you're nice," you shrugged. Kol looked at you with barely veiled surprise. "I mean, you kept to yourself while we were sleeping. That was pretty nice."

Kol grinned at that, and it made you smile. There was the devilish vampire you remember. 

You departed quickly after that, making your way to the outskirts of town. Relying on your own sixth sense, you allowed yourself to be drawn to the magic farther past the confines of Willowbrooks. Kol made up for his somber morning mood by singing 'Cotton-Eyed Joe.' It was the first time on the trip you wished for a white oak stake so you could stab him. 

You stopped atop a hill and narrowed your eyes at a dilapidated building below. 

"That's where the witches are," you pointed. Kol put his hands on his hips. 

"Well, darling," he sighed. "Let's meet your brethren."

You walked up to the building, the sun beating against you. You felt sweat beading on your forehead, rolling down your cheeks and not helping your already disgusting appearance. When you approached the door, you did what any sensible person would do– you knocked. 

"Very polite," Kol murmured. 

"Shut up."

The door opened, but no one stood behind it. You cautiously entered, taking in the darkness. You gasped as all at once, hundreds of candles flickered to life. A small group of women huddled in the corner, their faces illuminated by the flames. The one closest to the door, an older woman with braided long white hair and eyes the color of storms, stepped forward

"We've been expecting you," she smiled. 

~

The woman was revealed to be Elizabeth Foley, the one the sheriff (who you learned to be named Sheriff Dunn) had complained about the day before. Apparently, one of the witches foretold the two of you showing up that day. You should really be less surprised. 

"There has to be a way to stop this before too many innocent lives are lost," you said, sitting at a wooden table with Elizabeth. She ground a mix of herbs with a mortar and pestle. 

"Innocent lives will always be lost as long as men are involved," Elizabeth said, glancing at Kol. He stood by the wall, watching the other witches work around him. He seemed uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for bringing a vampire into your home," you apologized. Elizabeth grabbed your hand, squeezing lightly. 

"I do not fear him, neither should you."

You didn't know how to respond to that. 

"I will go into the town tomorrow and talk with the Sheriff," Elizabeth returned to grinding her herbs. 

"He'll kill you."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth shrugged. You found her to be rather calm despite the circumstances. "But this town isn't lost yet. Perhaps it will take someone like you and your friend to convince them of that."

You went back to the inn by nightfall, finding yourself staring up at the ceiling instead of Kol this time. Maybe you both had issues with dissociating. Kol flopped on the bed next to you a second later. 

"What do you think she meant by 'convincing the town?'" you turned to look at him. His hands were tucked behind his head, causing his shirt to slide up a bit. You ignored the sight. 

"Get them to stop the sheriff? Who knows" Kol quirked a brow. 

"But it might not stop a witch from dying."

Kol had nothing to say to that, and you didn't expect him to. You chewed your lip in thought. Eventually, you turned on your side to face him. 

"Thank you," you murmured. He glanced at you.

"For what?"

"For helping me."

"I just want to get home," Kol snorted.

"I don't believe that," you replied, shaking your head. Kol looked at you, warmth in his otherwise dark gaze. 

"You always see the best in people, don't you?"

"I have to," you glanced away. "Otherwise, no one else will."

Kol turned to face you, brows furrowed in thought. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen across your face, tucking it delicately behind your ear. The warmth from his fingers made you close your eyes. His hand went to your neck, grazing the collarbone before dancing over your shoulder. You tried to keep your breathing even as he lightly touched you.

"Do you see any good in me?" he whispered as if afraid to ask the question. You opened your eyes, looking at the furrow of his brow to heavy lashes as he refused to make eye contact. 

"I do," you hummed. "When you let me."

That seemed to settle something within Kol, who leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. It was barely anything, but you leaned into it, and that was enough to let him get rid of his reservations. His hand cupped your face, disrupting the hair he had been so gentle to tuck away. Your hand went to his waist, feeling the skin you had pretended not to eye earlier. You let out a gasp as his teeth nipped your lower lip, deepening what was already becoming something you knew you wouldn't want to run away from. Kissing Kol felt like a slow fire burning within you, growing in size until the only thing you could feel was his touch and his tongue on your body. His lips traveled along your jaw, kissing the delicate skin of your neck. Your mouth parted as blunt fangs dragged along the skin, nipping at your collarbone. You wished he would leave a mark. 

Kol couldn't stay away from your lips for long and returned to them with a fervor that insinuated that he'd been waiting to do this for some time. You let yourself be pulled on top of him as he rolled onto his back, his lips never leaving yours. You parted to breathe, nose nudging his and safety flooding your body as his arms wrapped securely around you. 

"Kol," you whispered. He hummed thoughtfully. Your hands brushed through his hair. "I've always seen you."

He grinned, kissing your cheek. "I know, darling. I know."

~

Unlike the night before, you let Kol hold you that night. You woke in warmth and a sense of belonging you'd been hoping for for a while. You didn't know what to expect today about the town of Willowbrooks, but you knew you wouldn't be alone through its trials. 

When you stepped outside, the town was already waiting with bated breath. Elizabeth stood facing down Sheriff Dunn, her skirt billowing around her ankles and her gaze steely. Sheriff Dunn glared. 

"Let this go, William," Elizabeth said. She seemed unhurried in her approach. "This town has suffered enough."

"Suffered because of creatures like you."

"No," she smiled, a faint thing. "Because of people like you."

The town shuffled uncomfortably on their feet, unsure what to do. You and Kol circled closer. 

"Elizabeth Foley, I charge you with crimes of disrupting the peace, and punishment must be served," Dunn announced, reverberating across the desert. Elizabeth didn't look shocked by this at all. You watched as Dunn removed his belt, wrapping it around his hands. Elizabeth got down on her knees, and you started forward. Kol grabbed your arm, yanking you back. 

"What are you doing?" you hissed, his grip a vice.

"You can't stop this, not by running forward."

"She's going to be tortured."

"It'll be worse if you intervene," Kol looked around at the people around you. You looked as well and took in the faces of horror and fear flickering across everyone's expressions. A half-baked idea started to form in your head just as the first whip sounded. Elizabeth didn't scream, even as the blood started to show on her shirt. Not even as Sheriff Dunn hit a second and third time. You watched the townspeople flinch, people of different backgrounds and colors watching with a tension that only came with disagreement. You wrenched your arm out of Kol's grip and approached the citizens. 

"Are you really going to stand by and watch as this man continues to hold your freedom hostage?" you exclaimed, voice loud. People looked at you in shock, Kol included. "When this woman is fighting for all men and women, regardless of circumstance, to have the same rights as the white man?"

"She is ready to take the belt if it means protecting people like you, people who never protected her," Kol yelled, joining you in your protest. He sent you a wink as he faced the other side of the town. 

"You have the power to do something! You have the power to put your foot down!" You walked closer, making a point to look at each person individually. You saw a few nods, and you let your voice get louder. Each exclamation between you and Kol drowned out the held-in whimpers of Elizabeth and the sound of the cracking skin. You watched the light ignite within more and more people and, for once, started feeling actual hope. 

It wasn't until Elizabeth was a heap on the ground, barely holding herself up, that the sound of a rifle being cocked reverberated throughout the courtyard. One of the men was aiming at the sheriff, who looked at him in shock. 

"That's enough, William. Let her go."

"Let us go," another man said, his own belt off and wrapped in his hands. More people kept joining in, saying similar sentiments. Sheriff Dunn hissed, stepping away from the approaching mob. He reached for his own gun, but the sound of several others being pointed his way was enough to set him running instead. As dozens of townspeople chased after him, you watched in satisfaction as metaphorical pitchforks arose. You spent only a second in that feeling before rushing towards Elizabeth. You slumped on the ground, pulling her into your arms. 

"Elizabeth," you gasped, your hands covered in the blood seeping through her clothes. She looked up at you with dazed eyes, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. 

"You did it, sweet girl."

"I-I didn't do anything," you stammered. 

"You brought hope," she coughed. "The most precious gift of them all."

Kol ran up next to you, biting into his wrist as he skidded to a stop next to Elizabeth.

"Drink," he demanded. "Let us help you."

"I don't need your blood, Mikaelson," she chuckled. You don't remember telling her his name. "My coven can heal me just fine. It's time for you two to go."

"Go? How?" you inquired, looking at Kol. He shrugged. 

"Take care of her," Elizabeth said to Kol, nodding. 

You couldn't get another word in as you felt your body dissipate into sparkling atoms. By the time you re-materialized, you were back in the Mikaelson compound. Rebekah startled from her place on the couch, glancing at the two of you, hand-in-hand on the ground. She took in both of your outfits and snorted. 

"Well, Kol," she drawled. "You always did like Clint Eastwood."

[kitkatkitzune]

i know this isn’t a question but ohmy I LOVEEEEEEEEEEE ur works pls dont die 🙏🏻

thank you!!! I will try to not die!!

Seriously though, thank you for your kind words and support!!