ℙ𝕆𝕍: You and your sister Hayley hate each other. Despite that, you love your sister, since she is your blood.
*Hayley, Klaus and Elijah talks about your daughter Hope (You and Klaus slept together after some drinks), you guys are in the living room*
Hayley: You need to know, my sister can’t be a mother for her well… yk mental problems, I can protect Hope, I could be a good mother
*Klaus and Elijah look at each other with annoyance*
Hayley: I know that Y/n and I don't have the best relationship but I know it's the best for Hope
Klaus: Hayley I know you and your sister hate each other, but I can't take seriously your request to send my daughter's mother out of this house…
Hayley: Why not? My sister is immature and a monster, she could be a bad influence for Hope -smirk-
*Klaus looks at her like that*
Klaus: Really Hayley? You’re being immature rn, Y/n is the best mom for my littlest wolf
Elijah: Klaus is right Hayley, despite everything that has happened with this family, Y/n has helped us and cared for us and never judged us... besides, she suffered a lot when she almost lost Hope
*Hayley roll her eyes annoyed*
Hayley: Oh c’mon don’t be mean guys, my sister is not a survivor just like me, because of her I lost the baby I was going to have with you, Klaus…
Klaus: It's not true Hayley, you lost that baby because you wanted to act like a hero in front of a pack that abandoned you and that's why you hit your stomach really hard and lost that baby -angry-
Hayley: No! It’s not true, is Y/n’s fault she sent that woman to attack me and I couldn't defend myself because with her witch powers she cast a spell on the pack and no one helped me, it's my sister's fault
Elijah: Hayley stop with that bullshit, she’s a good person an angel in our lives, you are jealous, that’s it
Hayley: Jealous? Elijah you really think am I jealous of my sister?
Klaus: Definitely yes Hayley, my little wolf and you have many discussions and I want you to stop that, I don’t want my daughter saw that ridiculous scene…
*Hayley sighs angry, but suddenly Hope enters looking for her mother*
Hope: Daddy! Daddy where is mommy? Oh hey uncle Elijah, aunt Hayley…
Elijah: Hey little one, mommy is busy rn, you need something?
*Hope nod and she pout* Hope: Yes, I want to show her the new dress my aunt Bekah bought me…
Klaus: You look very beautiful my love
Hope: Thank you daddy -she giggled-
Hayley: You look like a princess, come here Hope give me a hug
*Hope nod and she hugs Hayley*
Hayley: I wish you were my daughter -She hug her tightly-
*Hope uncomfortable for the situation try to separate from Hayley’s hug and suddenly you enter*
Y/n: Let her go now Hayley! -upset-
*Hope hears your voice and breaks away from Hayley's grip and runs towards your direction*
Hope: Mommy!
*You smile and you pick up your little baby*
Y/n: Hey my beautiful littlest wolf… what happened? I thought you were with aunt Rebekah
Hope: Yes mommy, look she bought me this dress
Y/n: OMG my love, you look very beautiful just like a little queen
Hope: Did you really like the dress, mommy?
Y/n: Definitely yes my angel, you look very beautiful, I’m so blessed for your beauty
*Hope giggles, Hayley get up and try to push you, but Elijah take her wrist and stopped her*
Y/n: Baby go with daddy I have something to tell your Aunt Hayley in private
Hope: Okay mommy!
Y/n: Klaus my love please go with Hope for some ice cream or whatever you want, I have some things to do with Hayley, okay?
*Klaus nod and he walks towards you and he take your face in his hands and he kiss you*
Klaus: Be careful little wolf, don’t worry I’ll take care of our precious princess -He smile-
Y/n: Thanks handsome, I hope you guys have a good time together *You kissed him*
*Klaus, Elijah and Hope leaves and you turn around to see your sister’s face*
Y/n: What at the hell are you doing with my daughter? -angry-
Hayley: Me? Nothing special, I only want to hug my niece, she’s so cute
Y/n: I warned u sister, she’s my daughter not yours, I understand your pain for the lost of your baby-
Hayley: NO! You don’t understand nothing, it was ur fault my accident
*Your eyes become red and you started to feel upset*
Hayley: What? You want to attack your own sister? How pathetic you are hahaha
Y/n: You stopped being my sister since you did and said that
Hayley: What? I only want to survive and I want to stay in this family, my new family
Y/n: Oh really? How? Spreading your legs, showing your breasts and your pussy to the men of this family! -You yelled angry-
Hayley: How dare you!?! You do the same, when you were drunk -She yelled back-
Y/n: Yeah I do, damnit! But I have my daughter in my arms, I love Hope, she saved me
Hayley: Don’t be ridiculous, you steal all my hopes and dreams, everything I wanted!
*Her eyes become yellow and she attacked you and you push her, she tried to bite you, you don’t want to hurt your sister so with all the pain in your eyes you broke her arm and her neck and Hayley falls on the floor, you kneel in front of her and you hug her crying*
Y/n: Forgive me sister, please forgive me, I didn't want to do this to you, you made me -crying-
*At night you have a chat with your husband and your brother-in-law about Hayley’s situation so you decide for her own good and the own good of your daughter, Klaus decides banish her from their house, so that she would no longer do more harm, you cried because you didn't want that for your sister, but you knew it was the best for everyone. She yelled at you and swore revenge on you and the Mikaelsons for what they did to her, she left home the next day*
She barely remembers how they’d ended up pressed against the car in the dark alley, just the heat of his mouth, the pull of his voice, and the ache she had spent too long trying to silence.
Then his hand slips beneath the waistband of her jeans.
Everything else disappeared.
Her breath caught sharp in her throat, and her head tips back instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as a gasp escaped her lips. It is as if her body remembers him, every brush of his fingers, every promise he’d never needed to say out loud. It isn’t just arousal; it is surrender.
Her hands clench in his shirt, anchoring herself as wave after wave rolls through her. He doesn’t rush. He never rushed. His touch is maddeningly precise, reverent and possessive all at once, as if he were writing a story against her skin he has no intention of forgetting.
She opens her eyes, and he is watching her.
Of course he is.
His gaze never left hers, not even for a second. It isn’t just lust; it is hunger. Worship. A kind of obsession she had once feared, but now let wash over her like flame and thunder.
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Chapter Twelve - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
With a swift knock on the door, you stumbled into Rebekah’s mansion – hands full of coffee, her breakfast and some bottles of wine.
“Hellooo?” you sing song out, looking around for the blonde Mikaelson. She appears at the top of the grand, curved staircase, a pleasant grin on her face as she makes her way down, trash bag in hand.
“Oh, Charlotte, you didn’t have to do all that,” she says, approaching you and taking some of the load from your hands, guiding you toward the coffee table in the sitting room.
“Stop, it was no big deal,” you shrug, placing down the to-go box and bottle of wine.
“Wine huh? This early in the day?” she teases with a smirk not unlike her brother’s.
“I figure we should treat ourselves after we clean up this wreck,” you grin.
“I like the way you think,” she concurs. “I truly don’t understand how teenagers make such a mess.”
“Agreed,” you roll your eyes, ripping off a trash bag from where the roll is placed on the counter.
Cleaning up only took about an hour, which the two of you filled with music and chit chat to pass the time. Rebekah compelled herself a maid to do the remainder of the disinfecting type cleaning, paying her a handsome fee so that you guys could move on from the dreadful task.
“So, I need your help,” Rebekah states as she comes back into the room with a garment rack on wheels full of dresses. “I have nothing to wear for this pageant!” she exclaims.
A chuckle escapes your lips as you stand up, doing a once over of the dresses hung on the rack.
“I am sure that’s not true,” you respond sarcastically, seeing at least twenty or more dresses on the rack alone. “And I suspect you have more than just this,” you tease. Rebekah grins as she disappears back into her closet, coming out with not one but two more garment racks.
“Oh my God!” you laugh. “I own maybe ten dresses, tops.”
“Yes well, I am centuries older, love,” she smiles. “And this isn’t all of it either, just what I have at this house. I have loads more,” she shrugs like it’s not as big a deal as you think it is.
“We’re going to need a fashion show,” you laugh, reaching out to touch the lace on a dress.
“Already on it!” she claps her hands and five girls walk into the room, already wearing dresses.
“Rebekah!” you laugh aloud, attempting to scold her for compelling the girls for her personal use but also finding it pretty funny.
“What? I paid them to be here, just compelled them to be quiet and obedient!”
Another laugh escapes your lips and you shake your head.
“If Elena could see this…” you start, chuckling at all the things she’d have to say about ‘free will’ and ‘taking advantage.’
“Ugh, she's such a drag!” Rebekah rolls her eyes.
“Alright, let’s see,” you step closer and stand in front of the five girls. “No, no, definitely not, maybe, and… maybe,” you point at each dressed girl, leaving the two remaining that were wearing a red cocktail dress and a black lace mid-length dress.
“I like you more by the minute,” Rebekah grins, dismissing the girls to change and sort their dresses.
The next three hours pass by in a flash, both of you having a great time sipping wine, trying on dresses and enjoying your private fashion show. Rebekah convinced you that you ‘simply must’ borrow one of her dresses for the pageant, after you mentioned how you had nothing to wear and no interest in Miss Mystic Falls – however, you were obligated to go.
“Dark colors look so good on you,” Rebekah compliments as you try on your third black dress.
“Matches my attitude,” you joke.
“Rebekah?!” a male voice calls out from the front room
“Is that–” you start, your confident aura suddenly dropping, and Rebekah rolls her eyes.
“What do you want, Nik?” she hollers as she stomps toward the large open doorway. Klaus appears before she even gets there. Suddenly self-conscious in the black dress, you move to turn down the music on your phone, slightly out of his view.
“What? Can’t I simply come over to visit my baby sister?” he asks as he saunters into the room, his gaze immediately finding you.
“No, not usually,” Rebekah sneers.
“Charlotte,” Klaus greets, doing a once-over of you. “I see my sister has you thoroughly occupied,” he teases sarcastically.
“We are prepping for the Miss Mystic Pageant this weekend, for your information,” Rebekah growls, snatching a dress he had picked up from his hands.
“Ah, and you’re going to this…pageant?” he asks you.
“Uh, yeah, I don’t have a choice. Founding family obligation," you explain unenthusiastically.
"Ah yes, Charlotte Fell,” he responds, emphasizing your surname, his knowledge of it catching you off guard.
“Why are you here, Nik?” Rebekah huffs.
“Well, it would appear that Elena has solved our problem with the hunter… I came to share the delightful news,” he glares at his sister.
“So then we won’t be able to find the cure, after all…” Rebekah sighs.
“Precisely,” Klaus grins happily.
The five girls come back into the room in their new dresses at this moment, interrupting whatever Rebekah was about to say. Klaus makes himself comfortable in a chair, stretching his arm out and looking you up and down once again.
“Do you mind? We’re busy,” Rebekah growls.
“Not at all. By all means… continue,” Klaus smirks, pouring himself a glass of wine from his seat.
Rebekah huffs loudly and turns to you.
“Honestly, he is such an arse,” she groans, turning her attention to the girls. “You can go now, forget everything, take the money,” she compels them, and they go back into the walk in closet to change.
You look at the pile of dresses set aside for yourself that had caught your eye.
“I still think the red is the best,” Rebekah says softly, referring to a red one in your pile that you tried on earlier.
“It’s way too revealing,” you remind her.
“So? It’s sexy.”
“Let’s see it, then,” Klaus speaks up from his seat, catching your attention.
“No way,” you respond.
“Oh come on, I won’t judge,” he grins.
“Unfortunately, I have to agree with my bastard brother here and insist. It’s my favorite.”
With a sigh, you pick up the red dress and go to change into it. Your nerves build up quickly as you slide it on your body in the large closet, afraid of what Klaus may think or say when he sees it on you. It is a halter top, form fitting cocktail dress that left very little to the imagination. Yes, it’s sexy – but it makes you feel very… seen.
Stepping out hesitantly, Klaus’s face drops when he sees you. His lips are parted and he places down his wine glass that he was just about to drink from. You see his eyes trail slowly down your frame, taking you in.
“See? Sexy,” Rebekah confirms.
“It’s too much,” you state, crossing your arms, feeling insecure.
“My sister is right,” Klaus starts, still taking you in, before his eyes finally return to meet yours. “But as are you. It isn’t your style. You should feel comfortable, you’re clearly not,” Klaus points out.
“But she looks so good! Plus it’ll catch the attention of every guy there,” she smirks at you, as if that is what you want. Klaus’s face falls and he glares at his sister for a short moment before looking back at you.
“Even more reason to pick another,” he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.
Suddenly, he stands, approaching you, and picking up a black lace dress. He turns to you, close enough that his body heat is radiating onto you, and outstretches his hand, offering the dress to you. “Try this one,” he says softly.
You hesitantly take the dress from his hand, your fingers brushing his as you do, and scamper back into the closet to change, eager to try on a dress that he picked himself. Why? You didn’t know the answer to that question yourself, just that you really liked the idea of wearing something that Klaus liked.
You stepped out hesitantly once again, but not feeling as exposed as before. It is a black halter top dress that is shorter in the front, long in the back with layers that flow out elegantly. The dress hugs your curves and bust without exposing them, and the dark color helps to conceal you a little more. There is lace trimming around the neckline and a lacey cut-out on each side of your waist.
“Well?” you ask when neither of them speak, but are both staring at you.
“That’s the one,” Rebekah speaks up, clasping her hands together once in approval.
Klaus takes you in then nods once, swallowing thickly and taking a step back to grab his wine.
“You look stunning,” he concurs, and you feel your cheeks heat up immediately.
“Thank you…” you blush, looking in the mirror. “I like it, this feels more me.”
“Ah, now we have to finish deciding on mine!” Rebekah places your wine glass back into your hands and grabs your bicep, pulling you over to her pile. “We’ve narrowed it down to three – the green, blue and gold.”
She holds the green one up and looks in the mirror, and you take the moment to lean against the table beside Klaus. The other chair in the dressing room connected to Rebekah’s closet was stuffed full of dresses, and Klaus stole the only other seat. You leaned your bottom against the fine wood, taking a sip of your wine before placing the glass down behind you, leaning your palms against the edge. You try to ignore how close Klaus is, and how you are standing over him, his eyes burning into your body.
“I like the green, but I just wore a green gown to our wretched Mother’s ball… So I’m thinking blue or gold.”
Klaus rolls his eyes and grins up at you, acting bored.
“I like the blue but it feels more like an evening dress,” you give your opinion, and Rebekah swaps the green dress to hold the blue one up in the mirror.
“You’re right, it does,” she inspects herself, then glances at the pile of dresses. “So, who is taking you?” Rebekah suddenly asks without turning around. You furrow your brow and shrug.
“I was planning to go alone, I don’t even want to go in the first place,” you respond, ignoring Klaus’s burning gaze beside you.
“Surely guys have asked,” she says it more like a statement than a question, and grabs the gold dress.
“Well… Yeah,” you start, and now Klaus’s gaze feels like he is burning right through you. “But I said no,” you shrug.
“So you’d rather go alone?” Rebekah finally turns and shoots you a confused look.
“Than go with someone I don’t like or don’t want to lead on… Yeah.”
“Huh,” she shrugs, turning back to the mirror and looking at the gold dress. “You should go with Matt, at least.
You scoff aloud and head back into the closet to change into your regular clothes.
“He’s my best friend, not a date,” you call out.
“That’s why he’d be perfect – no confusing feelings, no strings.”
You ponder it in your head for a short moment, and realize that she does have a point. If you were to go with anyone, it would be best to go with him… But you secretly wished you could go with Klaus… Not that you expected him to ask, or to even attend in the first place.
“You make a good point, but he’s not going, and I really don’t mind going alone,”
“I’ll take you,” Klaus suddenly speaks up right as you walk back out. Both yours and Rebekah’s heads snap to him, but he looks unphased and confident, even shrugging casually.
“What?” you ask, as if you heard him wrong.
“I will gladly escort you to this little pageant, if you would like,” he grins.
“You? Go to a pageant? For no apparent reason?” Rebekah asks, crossing her arms.
“Not for no reason – to escort Charlotte here,” Klaus side-eyes her, but keeping his focus on you. Your heart is thumping in your chest and you momentarily don’t know what to say.
“Mm… You must really fancy her,” Rebekah grumbles, and Klaus shoots a glare in her direction.
“Well?” he asks once his gaze is redirected back to you.
“Oh, well… Uh… I would like that…” you start. “But you don’t have to feel obligated–”
“Great, it’s settled then,” he grins at you, somewhat arrogantly.
“So you’re just stealing her from me then?” Rebekah glares.
“You were just offering her up to the quarterback,” Klaus points out with a less than pleased expression, standing from his chair. He grins as he passes by, and you can smell his cologne as he walks by, his aura as he walks leaving you breathless as he heads to the doorway. “I have some business to finish up… I will meet you there, then, love,” he smirks before heading for the stairs, leaving you speechless and once again alone with Rebekah.
“He is infuriating,” she grumbles under her breath. “Are you okay? Have you forgotten how to breathe?” she asks, seemingly concerned and sarcastic. You clear your throat and nod, trying to regain composure and ignore the thoughts racing through your head of being Klaus’s date.
“Guess you don’t have to worry about finding a dress Nik will like… seeing as he picked that one,” she motions to the dress you were still holding in your hand, which you look down at and blush once more. “Wow, you really do fancy him… Just look at you,” she teases. “Have you met my brother? I know he can be charismatic, but he can also be a huge arse.”
You giggle and shrug, unsure what to say in response.
“Ugh, makes me sick,” she groans, but you see that she’s not being fully serious.
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The Allure of Darkness Series Masterlist🖤🥀
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🌕 KINKTOBER DAY 30 — BLOODRIGHT 🌕
Title: Bloodright
Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader
Genre: Breeding • Degradation • Feral AU • Monsterfucking
Summary:
On the night of the full moon, the Abattoir becomes your altar. Chained in iron, splayed and soaked, you’re nothing but a vessel for Klaus's hybrid hunger. He doesn’t want tenderness—he wants legacy. He knots you again and again, cum flooding your womb with every savage thrust until the scent of iron and jasmine is all that remains. This isn’t about love. This is about blood, heat, and a claim that doesn’t end when the sun rises.
SMUT WARNING! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!
The chains are cold iron. Forged in witch-fire, they’re bolted deep into the stone wall of the old slaughterhouse turned Mikaelson lair. They rattle violently when you struggle, wrists rubbed raw from earlier attempts at freedom. Your ankles are forced wide by the spreader bar he snapped into place with a wolfish grin that never quite reached his eyes. The old bloodstains on the stones beneath your knees tell stories—none of them yours. Yet.
Klaus circles you in hybrid form—not fully wolf, not fully man, but something monstrous and ancient. His eyes glow molten gold, fangs glint beneath curled lips, claws clicking steadily on the stone as he paces. With every breath, he radiates barely restrained violence. His sweat-slick chest glistens under the moonlight, muscles taut and coiled, and the bulge in his trousers is shameless—throbbing, swollen, promising ruin.
“Look at you,” he growls, voice made of gravel and old smoke. “Chained like livestock. So fucking perfect I could tear you in half.”
You meet his gaze and spit at his feet. “Fuck you, Klaus.”
He laughs—a deep, guttural thing, like thunder rumbling low across the sky. His hand flashes up, claws glinting, and he backhands the spit aside, just missing your face.
“Oh, you will,” he promises darkly. “Over and over until you’re dripping with me, until your cunt is too sore to close, until your pretty little belly swells with my heir.”
He drops to his knees between your spread thighs, hands tearing the last scrap of your skirt clean off with ease. No panties, of course. He'd forbidden them the second he dragged you here, claiming bare made it easier to scent you. The night air kisses your cunt, soaked and shining. Shame prickles hotter than the full moon overhead.
“Pathetic,” he murmurs, dragging a single claw up the slickness between your folds. “Dripping for the monster who stole you. My little breeder. You want it. You’re aching for it.”
He leans in, fangs grazing the inside of your thigh, brushing your femoral artery. Then he bites—not deep, not enough to maim, but just enough to taste. You scream, high and involuntary, and he groans like it's the sweetest wine. His tongue laps the wound clean with rough strokes, sealing it with a flick and a snarl of satisfaction.
“Gonna fill you so full,” he rasps, voice thick with lust as he shoves his trousers down. His cock springs free—thick, flushed dark, the knot already beginning to swell at the base, pulsing like a second heartbeat. “Gonna knot you right here, up against these filthy stones. Breed you until your womb forgets anyone else.”
He strokes himself lazily, precum dribbling onto his knuckles. He uses it to smear your clit in messy circles. You flinch, chains clattering, but the spreader bar keeps your thighs wide and vulnerable. Your muscles tremble, caught between fear and desperate need.
“Beg,” he commands, voice snapping like a whip.
You bare your teeth. “Make me.”
His smile is pure predator. No more patience. You have just enough time to draw one breath—sharp, uncertain—before he lunges. He slams into you.
One savage thrust, no warning, spearing deep enough to steal your breath. The stretch is brutal. He’s too thick, too hard, and yet your cunt grips him greedily, slick walls tightening like you’ve been waiting for this. Like your body already belongs to him.
“There’s my good little whore,” he growls, pace unrelenting, hips snapping with vicious force. “Taking my cock like the needy little bitch you are. Born to be filled by a hybrid. Born to carry my pups.”
He pounds into you like he wants to leave bruises on your soul. Each thrust slams your back against the wall, chains scraping against stone, metal groaning with the force. His claws dig into your hips, forcing you to angle just right so he can grind that swollen knot against your cunt, stretching you wider with each punishing stroke.
“Say it,” he demands, voice low and dangerous. “Say you’re mine. Say you’re my breeding bitch.”
You sob, head lolling back, pleasure a razor-edge tearing through your spine. “I’m—fuck—I’m your breeding bitch—”
His roar shakes the courtyard.
He fucks you harder, faster, until your world dissolves into nothing but his cock, his voice, the smell of blood and musk. His thumb finds your clit and rubs mercilessly until your body breaks—cunt clenching around him in spasms, milking him, your cry ragged as it rips from your throat.
The knot slams in.
He shoves deep and locks in place, sealing your bodies together. Then he comes—loud, growling, hips twitching as thick, hot spurts flood your womb. You feel every one. He grinds through it, knot tugging and swelling even more, ensuring not a drop escapes.
He stays there, panting against your neck, his cock throbbing inside you.
Then he begins to move again, slowly at first—deep, grinding rolls of his hips that churn the cum inside you, as though breeding you wasn’t enough unless he could feel it take.
You gasp, overstimulated, but he doesn't stop. His hand rises to your throat, holding—not choking, just anchoring.
“You thought one knot would be enough?” he breathes. “No, sweetheart. We’re going to stay here until I’m sure it took. Until you can feel me dripping from your cunt every time you move.”
He licks the bite mark again, then the tears on your cheeks, reverent in his filth.
“Mine,” he says, again and again, almost tender. “Mine. My filthy little vessel. My perfect fucktoy. My breeder.”
The chains stay on all night. He knots you three more times before dawn.
By morning, the moon has dipped below the bloodstreaked skyline, its pull retreating but not released. The scent of iron and jasmine lingers thick in the air, clinging to your skin like sweat. The chains bite into your wrists, still locked, the iron cold and unyielding. Your legs quake, sticky with his claim, hips bruised where claws held tight.
