Summary: You make a love potion for your boyfriend... but it accidentally hits bastard Enzo.
Pairing: Enzo St John x Reader
Genre: Suggestive, Bad boy!Enzo
Word count: >1k
“You ever heard the phrase ‘Be careful what you wish for?’’ your best friend asked. “Love potions are tricky things. It might be better if you-"
But you weren't listening. You downed the green sludge, and chanted Jeremy’s name.
Over the last few months, Jeremy had been cold and distant. He avoided your calls, he only showed up at your dorm room at 3AM… You were losing the love of your life.
A week passed, and nothing changed between you and Jeremy. You were heartbroken. The love potion was your last hope, and it had failed.
-
“What the devil?” Enzo said, sitting upright in his bathtub. Water splashed onto the floor.
He had just settled into the hotel bathtub, imagining giving the red-haired receptionist a good railing, when suddenly, he saw your face. It was your dark hair he was smelling, your waist beneath his fingers.
He hardly knew you, for Christ’s sake. You were one of Damon’s friends, some witchy college kid. Sure, you were pretty, but not his type. He liked bad girls, preferably on motorcycles - not uptight best friends with raging moral compasses.
Enzo stomped to the wardrobe and threw on his clothes. Within twenty minutes, he was sweet-talking that receptionist in the back seat of his car. He was kissing her neck, admiring the total absence of a delicious argan oil scent in her hair - when he felt a cold sweat.
HE WAS CHEATING ON YOU.
The thought crashed into his brain like a damn lorry. Apologising to the girl - Becca or Becky or something - he staggered out of the car.
Enzo had to get to the bottom of this.
-
You turned to enter your philosophy class - only to see a leather-jacketed Englishman in the way.
“Apologies, sweetcheeks. We need to talk,” Enzo said.
“Don't you have any innocent people to murder? Where's Damon?” you said.
You nearly got whiplash as he carried you outside the red brick building. You stood there, trying to get your breath back. Enzo was staring at you with intense annoyance. Really intense. You felt yourself blush under his eyes.
“What the hell?” you said, still panting.
“Wasn't I clear enough before? I wasn't asking.” Enzo said, resting both hands on the wall on either side of your head . “You see, I have a problem. I can't get you out of my damn head.”
You laughed. “Oh my god. You're flirting with me. I’ll pass, if that's okay with you.”
“No, sweetheart,” Enzo said. “I don't fancy you, so you can drop the smug grin. I think some witchy voodoo has implanted you in my brain.”
You began to sweat under your T-shirt.
“It's a problem,” Enzo said in a low voice. “You see, I'm something of a lothario myself.”
“Huh?” you said.
“A Don Juan. A Cassanova.” Enzo clarified.
You shrugged.
“I bed a lot of women!” Enzo said. “And this is not exactly greasing the old works, if you know what I-”
You slid out from under Enzo’s arm. You couldn't let him know this was your fault, especially as you had no solution. “Not my problem, sorry!” you said.
In a flash, Enzo was standing in front of you. “Don't go, darling. You won't make it,” he murmured. The threat sounded almost tender. A shiver went down your spine.
You raised your hands and started chanting. Enzo grimaced, sweat beading on his forehead. He slowly sank to his knees before you, gripping his head, which had to be in agony from your spell. A low groan came from his throat.
“Don't mess with me, darling,” you said, exhilarated by your own power, your ability to wipe that smile off Enzo’s face. Feeling naughty, you twisted his perfect hair, ruining it.
You were about to leave, when Enzo’s face changed into a devilish grin. Touching his finger to his tongue, he smoothed out his hair. He was clearly not in pain.
You began to panic. “Why isn't it working?” you said.
“Oh, it's working,” Enzo said, rising to his feet with the ease of a man waking up in the morning. “It's just that fifty years of saying hello to my own organs every morning gave me one hell of a pain tolerance.” He twirled a strand of your hair. “In fact, I like a little pain from a woman.”
You pressed your hands onto Enzo’s chest, still chanting. This was insane. He should have been crying for his mummy by now.
“Ooh,” Enzo said, his eyes closing. “That hits the sweet spot. Now, will you help me or not?”
-
You and Enzo sat on the floor of your dorm room, surrounded by candles. You had your fingers pressed to either side of his head.
“I think I can reverse the spell by entering your mind and finding a real love, strong enough to overpower the false feelings,” you said.
“Your hands feel good,” Enzo murmured. His eyes shot open. “Where on earth did that come from?”
“Ah,” you said. “It's possible that physical touch is making your feelings for me stronger.”
Suddenly, Enzo leaned you onto the floor, his lips inches from yours. You were both breathing fast. Enzo ran one skilful hand down your cheek, then your neck, then your waist. His gaze was worshipful. You had forgotten how good it felt to be touched like that.
“Get the damned thing done before we do something we’ll both regret,” Enzo said, his eyes fixed on your mouth.
You resumed your sitting position. “Now think of the person you most love,” you said, entering Enzo’s mind.
With a shock, you saw yourself and Enzo - but outdoors, in the nighttime. You were sitting on a bench in a knee length yellow dress, and Enzo was next to you in a green army uniform. He knelt and kissed your swelling belly.
“Don't think about me!” you yelled. “Is that not obvious?"
Enzo looked down in embarassment. “Give me a break woman, you're in my bloody mind. Let's try again.”
-
This time, the scene was different, the colours more bleak, more real. Enzo was standing in a stony prison cell. On the outside was a beautiful black woman with short curly hair and ruby lips.
She leaned against the bars. “When will you ask me to marry you, Lieutenant St John?”
He held one of her hands in the gap. “Giving you my name would be the sweetest pleasure of my earthly life. But you know I can't. Not till I get out of this hell hole.”
“You talk like you're going to die in here,” she said. “It's not right.”
He bent and kissed her hand. “I'm immortal, my dove. Don't you worry about me.”
-
Then you were staring into Enzo’s eyes once more, back in your Whitmore dorm room. One tear trickled down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away.
“Who was she?” you said.
Enzo looked at you. “It's worked,” he said. “I no longer feel like ravishing you right here. No offence.”
You rolled your eyes. “None taken. Trust me.” You frowned. “But… what happened to that woman? Did you marry her?”
Enzo got to his feet. “Ancient history, love.”
“Come on. I've already seen inside your head,” you said. “What else have you got to hide?”
“Fine,” Enzo said, crossing his arms. “I'll tell you about her, if you tell me what joker you rustled up that love potion for.”
“Deal,” you said. “So tell me about her.”
Enzo smiled thoughtfully, then said, “The woman you saw was Mags. Maggie. The only woman on this blasted earth I've ever loved. Now, explain why a beautiful girl like you is begging for the attention of some Tom Dick or Harry.”
You smiled awkwardly. “Did you just call me beautiful? Are you sure that spell worked?”
“I'm not in love with you, sweetheart. But a man has eyes,” Enzo said, winking. “Now explain.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “It was for my boyfriend, Jeremy. I’m not stupid, okay?” you said. “I know he’s treated me like crap. I just… can't give up hope that we could be something special. Is that so wrong?”
“Hope is a dangerous thing," Enzo said. "I spent fifty years in a bloody jail cell, I know.” He rested a hand on your arm. “Hope doesn't fill your belly. Hope doesn't keep you warm at night. It just kills you a little more slowly than despair.”
You gazed at his distant brown eyes, wondering if Enzo still had hope.
“Anyway, I have no idea why the potion worked on you,” you said. “It was unintentional, I swear.”
Enzo held out his hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. The name’s Lorenzo Jeremiah St John.” He grinned. “Also known as Jeremy.”
—
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Summary: Elijah's body starts to misbehave when he's around you. Elijah has to hide it before he makes a fool of himself.
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader
Genre: Suggestive, fluffy, flustered!Elijah
Word Count: <1k
Elijah blinked, trying to remember what he had been doing. From the moment you entered the kitchen in a sheer lilac slip dress, everything had gone hazy.
You stretched for the can of coffee on the top shelf. “Elijah,” you called. “A leg up, please?”
Elijah cleared his throat. “Of course.”
He kneeled on the floor, and you stepped on his thigh, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.
As you reached for the coffee, and Elijah watched your silk dress skate higher and higher up your brown thigh.
“Almost…” you said, moving your foot up Elijah’s leg, till it almost brushed his crotch.
Elijah felt sparks of pleasure run up his leg. His body started to misbehave. He could not let you see this.
Elijah moved away from you so fast you fell onto the floor.
“Elijah?” you said, catching your breath. “What happened?”
Elijah cursed. Did this have to happen now? In front of you, his brother’s friend?
You pulled Elijah towards you, and gasped.
Elijah’s eyes were red, and veins covered his cheeks. His fangs were pointing out.
“Oh no, Elijah,” you said. “Are you hungry? When did you last feed?”
Elijah gulped. “Vampires gain their fangs when hungry… threatened… or aroused.”
You laughed into your hands. “Oh my god. Did I just give Elijah Mikaelson a vampire hard-on?”
Elijah’s grabbed the doorframe with one hand, crushing it. “It's nothing. I just need a few moments to collect myself.”
You sucked your cereal spoon, smiling. “So you do have a thing for me.”
“Of course not. Mere coincidence,” Elijah said, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. His fangs shrunk away.
“So,” you said naughtily, “nothing will happen if I do this.”
You dropped the spoon at his feet and bent to pick it up. Elijah’s eyes were glued to your dangling necklace… and your soft chest beneath.
Elijah’s fangs shot out with a hiss. “For the love of God,” he muttered.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” you said, slinging your hands over his shoulders. “It's cute.”
Elijah shut his eyes. “I am not some newborn vampire, unable to control his lust.”
“But you are around me,” you said, gazing up at him through your lashes.
Elijah watched you with open-mouthed awe, not even trying to hide his fangs.
“It's okay,” you said, lowering your voice. “I have an insane vamp boner for you.”
“Is that so?” he said, his lips pulling up.
Your eyes were wide and innocent as you toyed with Elijah’s collar. “So, what can a vampire do when their fangs…misbehave?”
Elijah smiled down at you, pulling your body against his. His fingers made tiny circles on the silk over your waist.
“There are many options,” he said quietly. “Usually one would leave, but you will not let me. One may try to think about something else,” he coiled your hair around his finger, “but that is also proving impossible.” He raised his chin sharply. “That leaves, well, embracing the situation.”
He swept your hair away from your throat.
“May I?” he said. His fangs were poised over your neck to drink.
Your eyes slipped shut and your breath hitched in your throat. “Of course I'll help you with your little problem,” you said. “You can address my sticky situation later."
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Summary: Klaus catches you and Kol in an... awkward position. Can you hide Kol in time?
Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Reader
Genre: Suggestive, Naked!Kol
Word count: <1k
Klaus hissed, and dropped the strange object. Then, he used a pencil to lift it up again.
It was a pair of men's underwear. Black boxers, in fact.
“Little human?” he called, laughing. "Am I interrupting something?"
You stepped out of the bathroom, carefully clicking the door shut. Your cheeks were flushed, your usually perfect brown curls a mess.
“Hey, Klaus,” you said, leaning on the door. “What's, um, hanging?”
Klaus waved the boxers around like a flag. “These, I'm afraid.”
Your eyes widened. “Oh my god! Those… are mine.”
“Really?” Klaus said, getting up. “Then you wouldn't mind touching them - seeing as they're yours.”
“Of course,” you said, gingerly reaching out for them. Your hand froze, an inch away. You screwed your eyes shut.
Just then, the bathroom door flew open, pushing you off.
Kol appeared, shirtless, his hair a bird’s nest. Strange runes were drawn all over his face in lipstick. “Have you seen my pants, love? It's getting a bit chilly, if you know what I mean.”
He flashed Klaus a grin. “Hiya, big brother.”
Klaus lifted the underwear, a bemused smile spreading over his face. “So… should I go in there and deliver these, or is dear Kol coming out?”
“Aha!” Kol said. Pushing the door open, he sauntered out, butt naked. He stretched out his arm for the underwear.
You were momentarily silenced by the smooth ripples of his chest, and the trail of pale hair leading downwards.
Then you shielded Kol’s body with yours, muttering things about ‘insane’ and ‘nobody wants to see that’.
Kol whisked the pants away from Klaus, winking.
“Don't mind if I do.”
—
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Summary: Damon secretly fantasises about getting you pregnant. Is it just roleplay... or something more?
Pairing: Damon Salvatore x reader
Genre: Suggestive, hubby!Damon
Word count: >1k
“You know all my sex fantasies. Why don't I know yours?” you asked.
You watched your boyfriend Damon unbutton his shirt in front of the mirror.
“Hmm, I love your fantasies,” Damon teased. “There's the one where I'm Count Dracula…” he murmured, crawling up the bed. His black shirt fluttered open, revealing his hard stomach.
“I only drink the blood of beautiful women,” he whispered, his fangs sliding out, “and only at night.”
His fingers were cold against your neck. He found your pulse, and sucked it gently.
You stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed. What were you talking about again?
“Hey!” you said, pushing him off. “You're trying to distract me!”
Damon shrugged.
In a flash, his back hit the wall, his eyes fluttering shut. “Your blood is like a drug to me, Bella,” he moaned.
“The Twilight one is a secret!” you hissed. “Your fantasies. Go.”
“Okay,” Damon said excitedly, crawling onto the bed. He lifted you so were straddling his strong thighs. His cool fingers ghosted your lower back, making you shiver.
“I have one fantasy…” he whispered, his cheeks pink. “About making a baby with you.”
You grinned. “So... just sex?”
“No!” Damon said, rubbing your thighs. “Literally making a baby. I dream about getting you pregnant.” He sighed. “I know it's impossible, but that's it.”
“Like what?” you asked.
Damon gulped. “Like…” his hands hiked up your shirt, “we've been talking about it, and we decide that tonight's the night. We're going to make the magic happen.”
“Wow…” you whispered. “Damon Salvatore wants to put a baby in me. I'm impressed.”
Damon pushed you back onto the pillow, his body moving over yours. “You like that - mommy?” he said, smiling shyly.
Damon, the guy who danced on rafters, was feeling shy. This had to be a big deal.
“Call me that again,” you murmured.
“Mommy,” he whispered, his face turning darker.
You gave him a long kiss. His mouth was gentle, but you could feel that his arms were tense, his whole body trembling.
“Tell me more,” you whispered in his ear.
“Hmm,” he started. “Well, we have a little baby boy, who we call Zach.”
“Zach?” you said.
“Yep,” Damon said, his eyes distant. “Little Zach’s a guy’s guy, so I can teach him to take cars apart, but he also loves running around in your high heels, which Kajol - that's his younger sister - finds hilarious.”
You moved to sit up, frowning. “Damon,” you said. “That's not a sex fantasy. That's a life plan.”
Damon smiled goofily. “What?”
“Oh my god,” you said. “You're serious about this. You actually want to have kids with me.”
You stood up. “How long have you wanted this, Damon?”
Damon stretched out on the bed on his stomach, his fingers reaching for you. “No…” he whispered. “Let's go back to the fun sexy stuff.”
“I'm twenty years old!” you said, staring at yourself in the mirror. “I can't have a kid. I practically am a kid.”
Damon sat up, scowling. “Goddamn it, Y/n. This is why I didn't want to tell you.”
“Well, you have. And now I know you want me to be a mom,” you said, your face flushed. “I need to think.”
“Don't go,” Damon breathed. He was trying to smirk, but his eyes were wide. “We'll drop the subject. Pinky promise.”
“I'm sorry,” you said. “I'm staying at a friend's house tonight.”
---
An hour later, you opened the door to your friend's house to see Damon. He was in the same shirt, his hair still mussed up.
“Let me in, Y/n,” he said, his hand gripping the doorframe.
You pulled your dressing gown tighter. “I'm sorry. I need some space.”
Damon’s hand slid down. “So I secretly want kids! Big whoop. I'm 150 years old. I like tequila and one-night-stands just as much as the next guy - hell, more - but after a while, you get tired.”
“Exactly when did you decide you wanted to have kids with me?” you asked.
He licked his lips. “The moment I met you, okay? I'm sorry that scares you, but it's true. I saw you, and I instantly knew you were the woman I wanted to start a family with.”
Your heart was in your throat. You had always felt like Damon was hesitating, like he didn't want to define the relationship. Now you knew why. He wanted it all.
“Hey…” Damon said. “I'm happy doing the college thing with you for now! I was born to be a frat guy. Jello shots are my champagne.” His eyelids fluttered. “Honestly, the hot college girls are the main perk.”
“I don't know,” you said. “I'm gonna need time to decide if I want this.”
“I've waited a century,” Damon said lightly. “What's another decade?”
You slid your fingers down the doorframe. “Maybe we could adopt,” you said, smiling. “In the distant future.”
“So distant…” Damon said in a squeaky voice, his fingers fluttering away into the distance.
You bit your lip, fighting a smile. You could never stay mad at Damon.
You stepped out onto the porch. “Hey… daddy,” you said, rolling your eyes.
Damon grasped the sides of your head. He twined his fingers in your hair. “Oh, so the calling me daddy part is fine with you?”
“Mm-hmm,” you said, nodding.
Damon pulled you into his chest, inhaling the scent of your hair. “So… you like Charlie Swan, Bella’s dad?”
You shook your head.
“Oh no. It's Carlisle Cullen, hot papa doctor,” he corrected.
You laughed. “That's more like it.”
—
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Summary: You teach Elijah a sexy new hobby - that puts him out of his comfort zone.
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader
Genre: Suggestive, Stern!Elijah
Word count: <1k
“Have you ever heard of dirty talk?” you said, snatching the spoon Elijah was using to stir the pasta, and licking it.
Elijah frowned, adjusting his two feet. “Dirty - talk?”
“Mm-hmm,” you said, resting your hands on the counter around him. “It’s a sex thing.”
Elijah’s voice was low in your ear. “You’ve whet my appetite. Tell me more.”
“Well, basically…” you said, looking up at him through your lashes. “You have to be mean to me.”
“Mean?” he murmured.
You nodded. “You could call me… a naughty girl.” Your hair shielded your face. “Or something worse.”
“Alright, then.” Elijah frowned, resting one hand in his pocket. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Y/n L/n, you are less than perfect.”
“Dirtier,” you said, tugging his tie.
“You are… profoundly lacking.”
“Dirtier,” you commanded, sitting on the counter and pulling him between your legs.
“You are a dirty, good-for-nothing, b-”
He froze, looking down.
“Go on,” you said, your eyes wide, red spots in your cheeks.
His chest rose and fell. “I'm sorry, Y/n. I cannot.”
You sighed. “But you were doing so good!”
Elijah stared up at you, hard. “It is impossible. I cannot look a queen in the eye and call her anything less.”
You looked down. Heat prickled over your face.
Elijah laughed, kissing his way down your throat to your collarbone. “You modern women confound me! Why do you wish to be insulted by men, when you deserve to be worshipped?”
You massaged his soft hair. “I don’t know. It just feels exciting. Naughty.”
Elijah slowly sank to his knees. He looked up at you, his brown eyes wide. He kissed your hand. “And would it still be naughty if you directed the dirty talk at me?”
You couldn’t fight your smile. “Elijah, are you saying you want to be insulted?”
Elijah raised an eyebrow. “It seems rather more appropriate. After all, you are a great Queen, and I your lowly servant.”
You grinned, reaching down to cup his cheek. He let his head hang back, moaning at your touch.
“Elijah,” you murmured, “You should kiss the ground I walk on. You’re nothing but a nasty little… slut.”
Elijah’s eyes shot open. He laughed, his cheeks colouring in surprise.
You cupped your hands over your mouth. “Oh my god. Was that too much?”
Elijah gave you a smile, pouting his lips. He stood and swept your hips to his. “On the contrary. This ‘dirty talk’ is marvellous. I feel quite aroused.”
And roaring into your neck, he carried you in his arms, strode into the bedroom, and threw you onto your bed.
“Elijah!” you said, watching him unbutton his shirt with hungry readiness.
“Sorry, darling,” he said, using his teeh to pull up your shirt, then lavishing kisses on your stomach. “You talk to me that way - you'll have to face the consequences.”
Summary: Elijah was the best sex of your life. But when you have to break up with him, he pretends not to care.
One night, you force him to show you how he really feels...
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader
Genre: Suggestive, angsty, hot, mean!Elijah
Word Count: <1k
You stumbled through Elijah’s study, upsetting piles of dusty books. You caught a heavy crystal skull just before it smashed.
You looked up, and saw him hunched over his desk, writing in his diary.
“Care to announce yourself?” Elijah said dryly.
A memory flashed through your head.
Elijah, sweeping everything off that desk as he laid you back on it. His hands pushing up the thin fabric of your summer dress, fingers hungry for the flesh of your thighs.
Elijah did not look up, but a smile curved his lips. “Or would you rather creep in the darkness like a thief?”
“Hey, Elijah,” you said, wringing your hands. “I have something to tell you.”
You perched on the corner of your desk. Your hair flowed messily down your back, and you were in your nighttime vest and sweatpants. You were shaking.
“Hmm,” Elijah said, not looking up.
“Look at me,” you begged.
Elijah looked up, and frowned. “You’re undressed.”
Another memory.
Elijah hiding your clothes under the bed so you were forced to wander around naked. Him lying back on the bed, smiling as you threw your hands over your chest.
“It doesn’t matter,” you said. “Look, Elijah… my boyfriend asked me to marry him. And I said yes.”
Elijah sat back, his hand coming to his lips. Then, he picked up his pen again. “When is the wedding? I’ll mark it in my diary.”
You paused for a moment, stunned. “That’s all you have to say?”
He sighed, then looked up. “I’m sorry. Congratulations.”
You walked around his desk, then stood before him. He stiffened away from you. “I can’t believe it,” you said. “After all we’ve been through, you have nothing to say to me.”
Elijah slowly capped his pen. “What do you wish to hear?”
“I don’t know, Elijah,” you said, crossing your arms. “Maybe I want you to stop acting like my wedding is the weather report. Do I mean nothing to you?”
Elijah stood, pressing his tie to his chest. “Y/n, why are you here?”
You ran your shaking hands through your hair. “Maybe I’m freaking out right now, and I came to you because I need you to tell me not to do this.”
You seized Elijah’s arms. “Tell me this is crazy. Tell me this is some stupid tradition that doesn’t mean anything. Tell me not to marry him, Elijah.”
He looked up at you, his mouth hanging open, his eyes shining. “Y/n…”
You didn’t give him a chance to answer.
Desperately, you clenched his shirt in your fists and kissed him.
Elijah was frozen for a second, a lifeless block under your hands. Then, he inhaled deeply through his nose, and his hands ran up and down your arms. His lips melted against yours.
Breathing raggedly, he pushed you away.
“Y/n,” he said steadily. “You know what I’m going to say.”
You started fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. They refused to obey your fingers. He stood, still, watching you.
“Y/n,” he said. “Marry him.”
You buried your face in his neck, lavishing kisses on the frozen flesh.
“Marry him,” Elijah repeated. “You have a daughter. She deserves a family. And she has to come first."
“Y/m”, he said, gently pushing you away, regarding you with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you acting like this?”
You laughed dryly. “I don’t know, Elijah. Maybe if we just fucked tonight, my boyfriend would refuse to marry me.”
He stepped back, doing up the buttons of his shirt.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, waiting for the inevitable sting of shame. You knew you had made a fool of yourself tonight. You knew you came off desperate. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
“I’m sorry you feel this way about him,” he said. “But in time, it will get easier.” He smiled, and for once, he looked a thousand years old. “Everything gets easier.”
You walked back around the desk, unable to meet his stare. A part of you wished Elijah wasn’t so proper all the time. You wished that he could admit to wanting to do the easy thing, not the right thing.
In a last ditch effort, you looked up at Elijah. “You know what hurts?” you said. “That it was so easy for you to let go of me.”
With a gust of air, Elijah moved till he was right in front of you. His eyes turned black, and veins shot over his cheeks.
He moved his lips to your throat, and placed a soft, wet kiss to the skin.
When he pulled back, you were shaking.
“Oh Y/n,” he said quietly, his eyes narrowed. “Letting go of you was never easy.”
—
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Summary: "“Invite me in,” he said, his eyes gentle yet terrifying.
“I shouldn't,” you said softly."
Being Klaus's girlfriend is a dream - until it turns into a nightmare.
Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader
Genre: Hot, angsty, Toxic relationship
Word Count: <1k
“Do you understand why I'm mad at you, Klaus?” you said, standing at the kitchen island, chopping tomatoes.
He was sitting sullenly on the couch, his knee bouncing.
“I had a really important interview today. And you told me you would pick up Hope from school and then - I had to miss it, Klaus.”
You set the knife down. “Say something,” you said.
Klaus’s lips were tight. “Whatever I say will only fuel your anger.”
You rubbed your face in your hands, wiping away tears of exhaustion. “Come on. Give me something. Don't just look at me like you're in the headteacher's office."
Klaus sank lower into the chair, the tempo of his foot increasing.
“For god’s sake, Klaus, are you incapable of speaking up for yourself?”
About to start chopping again, you grabbed the knife.
You never saw him move. But the next moment, Klaus's face was an inch from yours. He had slammed your hand holding the knife against the wall. Under the strength of his grip, it was impossible to move.
“Ah… so the knife is your weapon of choice," he said.
You were too stunned to reply.
Klaus squeezed your hand tighter. “I was wondering when we would have our first real fight. I'm surprised you chose the knife. Bold choice, to use a knife on someone you love. You could really draw blood.”
You let the knife fall from your fingers and slipped out of his grasp. “Klaus, I would never-”
But he wasn't listening. “Now… what weapon should I use to counter?” His finger ran around the rim of a glass. “Brilliant sound effect, but sadly once-use.” He stretched out his arms, clenching his fingers. "Good old bare hands. The most… intimate choice.”
You were backing to the door.
“Oh, I know,” said Klaus. “Why don't you attack me first with words? They hurt more than sticks and stones.” He grinned. “What’ll it be? Beast? Animal? Monster?” He crossed his arms, facing you. “Or my personal favourite, bastard. The best insults are true, you know.”
“What insult will you use against me?” you said, your voice shaking in anger.
He crossed his arms. “So many options. Seeing as you're sleeping with a dog, bitch is almost too easy.”
You opened the door, the word bitch ringing in your ears. “I would never use a knife on you, Klaus,” you said. “Isn't that obvious? I was trying to finish making dinner so we could sit down like adults and talk about our problems.”
Klaus’s smile vanished. His teeth were gritted in pain, his eyes red-rimmed. “I thought-” he said thickly.
“You thought wrong,” you said, walking over to Hope’s crib. You started throwing onesies and toys into a bag. “Shh…” you cooed, rocking her against your chest. Hope’s little tongue poked out of her red mouth. “We're staying with grandma tonight, okay?” you said.
Klaus gripped the edge of the crib. Tears spilled out of his eyes. “Don't go,” he said. “It was a mistake.”
“A big one,” you whispered, bringing Hope to the hallway.
Klaus walked past you, and put his hand against the door. “You know me, Y/n,” he breathed. “You know I’m broken.”
You met his eyes. “No, Klaus, you've never told me anything about your past. So I don't know you.”
You stared at his hand flat on the door. It looked like it was gently placed there, but for an Original, there was no such thing as gentle. For a moment, you wondered if he would let you leave.
Then he moved, and unlocked the door for you.
And you left him in the empty apartment.
--
A few days later, you opened the door of your mother's house to find Klaus standing there.
Streams of night rain ran over his hair and dripped off his hard jaw. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lips trembling.
“Enough of this nonsense,” he said. “I have given you your space, Y/n. Now give me back my family.”
You crossed your arms. “What did you mean when you said you were broken?”
Klaus rested his hand on the invisible barrier of the entrance. “Is it a diagnosis that you want, then?” he said. “Well, doctor, it's a classic cycle of violence following childhood trauma. An abusive father. A bastard son. You do the maths.”
“I don't want a label, Klaus,” you said, sitting on the floor. “I want you. The real you.”
Klaus fell to a crouch on the floor. His eyes were screwed shut. “My father used to make us choose a weapon. When we argued.”
You frowned.
Klaus smiled bitterly. “Kol, the idiot, would choose bare hands. Rebekah would go for something ridiculous like a club, to prove she was tough. Finn used magic. Elijah… now he always chose the sword. A sign of a real man, Mikael would say. Meanwhile weak little Niklaus, coward that he was, would pick a shield.”
“You didn't want to hurt anyone,” you said, your throat thick.
“I was weak,” Klaus said. “At least, that's how Mikael saw it.” He looked down. “It was Elijah who taught me to use a dagger. To always strike first.”
“You were a child,” you said.
“I was a monster,” Klaus said.
He looked up at you.
“Invite me in,” he said, his eyes gentle.
“I shouldn't,” you said softly.
“Invite me in,” he repeated, his hand stroking the air inches from your face. Klaus didn't seem to notice the rain making his black T-shirt cling to his chest.
“I need to think,” you said, but your eyes were on the smooth skin of his throat. The skin that, though unmarked, belonged to you.
“Invite… me… in,” he said.
Your voice was a whisper. “Come in.”
Klaus’s back arched as he rose to his knees, his lips meeting yours. His hands smoothed over your hair, holding you close.
Everything was wet. Water dripped off his curls and into your waiting fingers. The warm wetness of his T-shirt soaked your clothes.
You knew this was wrong. You knew you shouldn't have let him in. It didn't matter why Klaus was a monster - that was what he was, and you would never be safe while he was close to you.
But none of that seemed important as you sucked the skin of his throat, making a tiny red shadow of a vampire bite.
Klaus groaned. You knew it was a groan of pain. You didn't care. A small part of you enjoyed having the power to hurt him. You knew he felt the same way.
When Klaus tried to walk inside the house, you put a hand on his chest, stopping him.
“I'm sorry, Klaus,” you said. “Hope isn't here. She's with my family, and I'm going to join her.” You shook your head. “I can't raise her around violence.”
As you closed the door, turned and walked deeper into the house, you did not let yourself look back.
Your pulse was steady, your breathing calm.
Bring it on.
Maybe Klaus was following you. Maybe he wanted to drag you back to him with kisses or fists. Maybe he simply wanted to kill you.
—
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Summary: Kol snatches your diary... and realises you have a crush on him. He's determined to give you hell for it.
Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Reader
Genre: Suggestive, Bully!Kol
Word count: <1k
You stood on the Mikaelson balcony, scribbling in your diary.
Suddenly, you felt rough hands grab the railing from behind you, trapping you in place.
“Oh la la… Y/n's writing in her diary!” Kol said.
He grabbed the book in one large hand.
“Go bother someone else, Kol,” you said. “I’m not kidding.”
“Oh… oh…” Kol said, dangling the diary over the edge.
You dug your fingers into his veined arm. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Should I just read it then, love?” he said, moving away from you at vampire speed. He settled into an armchair and cleared his throat dramatically.
You sank onto the floor, head in hands.
Kol flipped through. “Dear lord. The first three pages are all the same thing, over and over. MRS K MIKAELSON?”
Kol put his fist over his mouth, laughing.
You covered your face. Your crush on Kol was your most shameful secret. Even though Kol bullied you every day, you were in love with him. And he was about to find out.
“You have a crush,” Kol said quietly, “on my brother?” He was staring over the balcony at Klaus.
“What?” you said, peeking through your fingers.
Kol flipped further through the diary. “It all makes sense. I want to run my fingers through his creamy curls,” he read. “When he’s cruel to me, it makes my knees weak.” He frowned. “Wait a second. I think he's spent so long pretending not to have a heart that it's come true. He's incapable of love.”
Your heart nearly stopped. That was the worst thing you had ever written about Kol.
Then, Kol threw his head back and laughed. “Bloody hell, Y/n! I’ve known Klaus for a thousand years, and I couldn’t describe him half as good as that!”
You smiled shakily. “I guess I watch him a lot. Can I have it back now?”
“Oh yeah,” Kol said, springing to his feet.
You stood up, reaching for the diary… but he playfully snatched it back.
“One more page! Dear diary, I hope no one ever finds out I'm in love with… Kol Mikaelson?”
Kol’s face fell. A dark red stain ran up his long neck and to his cheeks. He crushed the diary into a ball of pulp.
“Wait,” you said. “I was going to tell you-”
But Kol was already striding towards the door. His shoulders were hunched with tension.
“Don’t be mad!” you said.
Kol turned to face you. He laughed, shaking his head slowly. “My heart’s dried up?” he said. “I'm 'incapable of love'?”
You tried not to cry, unable to meet his dark blue eyes. “I didn’t mean any of it, Kol. I was just hurt that you didn’t like me.”
“Is that what you really think of me, Y/n L/n?” he said, his mouth twisting.
You couldn’t lie to him. “Maybe. Not that you care what I think of you, anyway.”
Kol ran his shaking fingers through your hair. “You idiot! It’s because I give a damn what you think of me... that this hurts so much.”
You looked up at him. “You didn’t read the last part. It says, I know he’s a good guy. He’s just scared.”
Kol beat his chest. “You're wrong, you know. My heart’s just fine.”
You nodded. “I'm sorry.”
You turned and walked away from him.
Suddenly, he appeared in front of you. He held your face with both hands. “Let me finish, won't you? I was saying… that you’re not right about my heart. But you're right about me being scared.” He laughed. “Because you bloody terrify me.”
You looked down at the floor, searching for the diary.
Kol lifted your chin with one finger. “Forget the diary.”
“But I-” you protested.
“Forget it,” he said.
Then he leaned in, bending his tall body to reach your face, and kissed you. You fingers twisted his collar.
You had no idea what part of him to touch, to kiss. Kol’s huge body was more than you could understand. So you just stood there, lost in the sweetness of his lips.
He pulled back and grinned down at you.
“I’m sorry about what I wrote in the diary,” you blurted out.
Kol’s voice was soft in your ear. “Forget that silly thing. You don’t need a diary when you’ve got me… Mrs K Mikaelson.”
You looked up at him, blushing. “Please don't call me that.”
“It's too late now,” he teased. “Wifey.”
_
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Summary: Elijah's body starts to misbehave when he's around you. Elijah has to hide it before he makes a fool of himself.
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader
Genre: Suggestive, fluffy, flustered!Elijah
Word Count: <1k
Elijah blinked, trying to remember what he had been doing. From the moment you entered the kitchen in a sheer lilac slip dress, everything had gone hazy.
You stretched for the can of coffee on the top shelf. “Elijah,” you called. “A leg up, please?”
Elijah cleared his throat. “Of course.”
He kneeled on the floor, and you stepped on his thigh, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.
As you reached for the coffee, and Elijah watched your silk dress skate higher and higher up your brown thigh.
“Almost…” you said, moving your foot up Elijah’s leg, till it almost brushed his crotch.
Elijah felt sparks of pleasure run up his leg. His body started to misbehave. He could not let you see this.
Elijah moved away from you so fast you fell onto the floor.
“Elijah?” you said, catching your breath. “What happened?”
Elijah cursed. Did this have to happen now? In front of you, his brother’s friend?
You pulled Elijah towards you, and gasped.
Elijah’s eyes were red, and veins covered his cheeks. His fangs were pointing out.
“Oh no, Elijah,” you said. “Are you hungry? When did you last feed?”
Elijah gulped. “Vampires gain their fangs when hungry… threatened… or aroused.”
You laughed into your hands. “Oh my god. Did I just give Elijah Mikaelson a vampire hard-on?”
Elijah’s grabbed the doorframe with one hand, crushing it. “It's nothing. I just need a few moments to collect myself.”
You sucked your cereal spoon, smiling. “So you do have a thing for me.”
“Of course not. Mere coincidence,” Elijah said, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. His fangs shrunk away.
“So,” you said naughtily, “nothing will happen if I do this.”
You dropped the spoon at his feet and bent to pick it up. Elijah’s eyes were glued to your dangling necklace… and your soft chest beneath.
Elijah’s fangs shot out with a hiss. “For the love of God,” he muttered.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” you said, slinging your hands over his shoulders. “It's cute.”
Elijah shut his eyes. “I am not some newborn vampire, unable to control his lust.”
“But you are around me,” you said, gazing up at him through your lashes.
Elijah watched you with open-mouthed awe, not even trying to hide his fangs.
“It's okay,” you said, lowering your voice. “I have an insane vamp boner for you.”
“Is that so?” he said, his lips pulling up.
Your eyes were wide and innocent as you toyed with Elijah’s collar. “So, what can a vampire do when their fangs…misbehave?”
Elijah smiled down at you, pulling your body against his. His fingers made tiny circles on the silk over your waist.
“There are many options,” he said quietly. “Usually one would leave, but you will not let me. One may try to think about something else,” he coiled your hair around his finger, “but that is also proving impossible.” He raised his chin sharply. “That leaves, well, embracing the situation.”
He swept your hair away from your throat.
“May I?” he said. His fangs were poised over your neck to drink.
Your eyes slipped shut and your breath hitched in your throat. “Of course I'll help you with your little problem,” you said. “You can address my sticky situation later."
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Summary: "Jackson turned to you, his eyes hard and black. What he said was not a question. “You were fucking the vampire.”"
You're meant to marry Jackson today - but Elijah keeps getting in the way.
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader
Genre: Suggestive, Angsty
Word count: <1k
“I'm so sorry I'm late,” you breathed, as you ran into the cabin in the Bayou.
Two young girls held out your wedding dress for you to step into. It was a rough moon-white, with tendrils that wrapped around your brown legs.
Jackson was in the corner, buttoning up his shirt over the rough brown planes of his chest.
“Where were you last night?” he said gruffly. “We all expected you.”
“I needed to clear my head.”
“No, scratch that,” Jackson said. “I knew exactly what you were doing. Or who you were doing.”
“Be very careful what you're suggesting, Jackson,” you said, following him.
Jackson turned to you, his eyes hard and black. “I'm suggesting you were fucking the vampire.”
Your mouth fell open. You hadn't seen Elijah in weeks. Last night, you had fallen asleep over a book on Crescent wedding ceremonies.
“Kids!” Jackson’s grandmother said, touching your shoulders. “I don't care what little fight you're having. You need to make that crowd out there believe your love story, 100%. They won't join in unless they believe this marriage will last forever.”
Jackson’s voice was chilling in your ear. “I'll play the part. But just know, this wedding means nothing **to me.”
“Thank you so much for being here to witness our love!” Jackson called to the audience.
“You're holding my hand too tight,” you hissed. He was almost crushing it with his werewolf strength. He let go.
“Yes, thank you!” you repeated.
The two of you stood there awkwardly. Whispers spread through the crowd. Could they tell you were fighting?
“Pick me up,” you whispered.
“No way am I-” Jackson started, but then he gritted his teeth and scooped you into his arms.
You clung to the warm firmness of his chest. “Jackson!” you giggled, stroking his shirt. “Put me down!”
Jackson laughed, and spun you around. You leaned into his chest, your dress fluttering in the breeze.
“Sorry, folks!” he called. “I just can't keep my hands off this beautiful woman!”
The audience cooed. You were shocked - you almost believed his joyful tone.
Soon, you had reached the final, and most important, part of the wedding. Night had fallen, and the crescent moon wavered on the water of the Bayou.
Jackson and you were standing, holding hands. Behind each of you was a curved line of unlit bonfires.
Jackson’s grandmother called, “The couple’s minds and hearts are linked. They must each think of the person they most love, and the bonfires will burst into flame, symbolising the eternal fire of their marriage.”
“I will go first,” Jackson announced.
His strong arms wrapped around yours to the elbow, keeping you warm in the chill breeze.
He closed his eyes.
Jackson had treated you like dirt - worse than dirt - all day. That's why you were stunned when you saw inside his mind.
Suddenly, you were filled with a feeling of love, so powerful you would have collapsed onto the ground in tears if he wasn't holding you.
Images flashed through your head.
ANDREA LABONAIR, the name wished on every birthday candle, every shooting star, for twenty years.
You, newly arrived in the Bayou, your brown cheeks glowing with passion. Your fierce cheekbones and proud chin made it clear what you were - a princess.
A surprisingly soft side - your smile as you accepted Jackson’s engagement ring.
You heard a huge whoosh. You opened your eyes, and saw that the six bonfires behind Jackson had burst into flame.
Jackson’s lip was twitching, his eyes wet, as he looked at you. It was a kinder look than you deserved.
“My turn,” you called out, taking Jackson’s hands. You took a deep breath, and focused.
The soft brown muzzle of the wolf, peeking out at you in the Bayou. An instant feeling of safety.
Jackson, at the bonfire party, his crooked smile as he flirted with you.
Fire flickered up on the bonfires - then died out again. Everyone in the crowd started whispering.
You breathed hard, digging your nails into Jackson’s arms.
“Y/n,” he said, under his breath. “Listen to me.”
You shook your head. “Give me a minute. I've got this.”
“Y/n,” he said, and his voice was so broken that you stopped to listen. “It doesn't work like that,” he said. “Love shouldn't be this hard.”
“It's not hard,” you whispered.
Jackson stroked your arms, giving you a lopsided smile. “You don't need to protect me. Nobody else can see what you're thinking about. So just do it.”
“No,” you said, screwing your eyes shut.
His voice was urgent. “Please. I need this wedding to work.”
“Don't say it,” you breathed.
Jackson’s breath shook, and for a second, you thought he might call the whole wedding off.
Then, he said, “Think about Elijah.”
You gripped Jackson’s arms tight enough to hurt. He groaned. You knew he was preparing himself for the worse pain to come.
It was a strange feeling - breaking down the barriers you had carefully built in your mind and letting yourself think about Elijah. It was like stepping backwards off a cliff and letting yourself fall.
Jackson’s grin, his chestnut eyes flashing.
The image faded.
It was slowly replaced by the feeling of ice cold water on your body. A pool, glowing blue. Two strong arms on your waist, supporting you. White shirtsleeves rolled up over rough brown skin. Elijah’s concerned eyes, the centre of your vision.
Elijah pulling your arm back to him, later that night. Pulling your waist to his and kissing you, hard, on the mouth. Your body bending back under his fierce grasp. The cool, minty taste of his tongue.
The image changed, and Elijah’s body was over yours, the wood of the floorboards cold under your back. He sucked your neck, making it ache in the best way. His hands sent shivers down the backs of your thighs. He pulled your body, hard, towards him.
Afterwards, his forehead pressing against yours. You were both smiling too much to kiss, your teeth bumping each other’s.
“I love you, Elijah,” you said, biting your lip.
He frowned. “Don't say anything you don't mean-”
“I love you,” you repeated, your lips opening to meet his.
There was a terrifying whoosh as six bonfires exploded into flame at once. The flame jumped off the logs, lighting the grass, as if it would burn the whole forest down. Thankfully, it died down.
Firelight burned in Jackson’s eyes. He was panting, mouth, open, like he'd just been wounded. You could taste the salt of your own tears.
You turned to face the cheering guests, gripping Jackson’s hand.
“I love you, Hayley,” Jackson called, and you knew he meant it.
You took a deep breath. “I love you too, Jackson.”
And in that moment, you sounded so convincing, you almost fooled yourself.
_
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Summary: You demand that Kol turn you into a vampire. He agrees to help you... with one naughty condition.
Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Reader
Genre: Suggestive
Word count: <1k
“Well, well, well,” Kol said, leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need you to turn me,” you said.
Kol said, “You're not even going to wine me and dine me before asking me for a favour?”
You rolled your eyes and began to march into the house. “Don't be difficult, Kol.”
Your breath stopped short when Kol grabbed the doorframe with one arm, stopping you from entering.
“I'll do this for you, L/n - but we're going to do it my way,” Kol said.
“Fine,” you agreed, following Kol inside.
When you were sat down in the living room, Kol rolled up one of his black shirt sleeves, revealing his pale skin, which rippled with a network of veins.
“You have to feed me your blood, right?” you asked.
“Not so easy,” Kol said. “If you want to become a vampire, you have to bite me yourself.”
“What?” you said. “That's not fair. ”
Kol shrugged. “Oh, come on, sweetie. You'll be doing it all the time when you're immortal.”
You shook your head. “For a vampire, it's normal. For a human, it's sick.”
Kol shook his head, smiling. “No, darling. Vampirism is always sick. Being a vampire is a hell of a lot of fun. But it also means becoming a bloodthirsty monster. If you can't take that, you're not ready.”
You fought the tears of disgust pricking your eyes. “You're a sadistic asshole, Kol,” you snapped.
He leaned in, placing a finger on your chin and staring into your eyes. “And you will become a sadistic asshole too, if you become a vampire. You don't have to turn, you know. I think your evil side is sexy, but… you could just stay human, Kol.”
You pulled your face free from his hand. “I'm not giving up, Kol. You can't make me.”
Kol eyed you up and down with a half smile. He held out his wrist. “As you wish, love.”
You wrenched his hand to your mouth. You contemplated biting into the smooth skin, your teeth tearing it till they broke through - but felt acid rise up your throat. “I'll do it, Kol,” you warned, but your voice was shaking.
He rolled his eyes. “You won't, Kol. You'll stay little miss perfect human, and run off into the sunset with my brother.”
“I'm not as weak as you think,” you said.
“Vampires are dead, Y/n. You can't handle that,” Kol replied.
You felt a flash of anger. Kol was talking to you like you were a child, like you hadn't been through hell and back. “I watched my parents die, Kol! I know the cost of death. You can talk to me like a child, you can set me as many ridiculous challenges as you want, but you can't stop me from protecting the people I love.”
Fuelled by your rage, you held your breath and bit down on Kol's wrist as hard as you could. You heard him let out a sharp curse. You were overwhelmed with the saltiness of his skin on your tongue, then, finally, the metallic ring of blood. Fighting the urge to close your throat, you sucked down as much blood as you could handle.
Kol moved over you in a blur. He smoothed your hair out of your face and ran his eyes anxiously over your face. “Are you okay? I didn't think you would -”
“Water,” you croaked.
Kol brought you some, and you sipped it cautiously. Finally, you said, “I'm fine, Kol. Chill.”
Kol sat, his eyes wide. “You're doing this. You're going to be a vampire.” He rubbed his wrist, staring at it intently.
“Got a problem with that?” you teased.
Kol slowly raised his eyes to meet yours. “I think I underestimated you, Y/n. God, you'll make a hot immortal.”
_
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Summary: As a boyfriend, Stefan is devoted. As an ex, he's obsessive. Even devotion has a dark side.
Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x Reader
Genre: Suggestive, Stalker!Stefan
Word count: <1k
As you walked into the manor house, you felt uneasy. Since you had chosen Damon, you'd heard nothing from Stefan - till he asked to meet you here.
“Stefan?” you called, stopping at the foot of a huge dark wood staircase.
Something flashed behind you, brushing the hairs on the back of your neck. Your heart stuttered.
A book suddenly clattered to the floor on the bookshelf beside you, just missing your head.
“Stefan!” you called, your voice breaking.
You felt Stefan’s strong, warm arms wrap around you from behind.
“Thank god,” you said, pressing your chin into his arm. “I thought someone was in here.”
“It's okay,” Stefan said, his voice throaty. “Stefan’s got you. He won't let anyone hurt you.”
“Aww,” you said, surprised at how well Stefan was taking the breakup.
“If anyone tries to touch my girlfriend, they're dead,” he murmured.
You frowned. “Stefan… I'm still with Damon. I thought you knew that.”
His arm wasn't just a support - it was a cage. You tried to prise it off, but you were stunned by its strength.
Stefan whispered in your ear, “Yeah… About that. I changed my mind. You're not Damon’s anymore. You're mine.”
You recognised that voice - dry, ironic, lifeless. Stefan had turned his humanity off.
You spun around, glaring up at Stefan’s eyes. Just as you'd expected, they were two lifeless rings of black.
“I don't belong to anyone,” you said through gritted teeth. You pushed Stefan’s arm, and he suddenly let you go.
You ran up the stairs, knowing it was stupid, but knowing with every muscle in your body that you had to get away from Stefan. You felt him watching you, perfectly calm. You reached the top of the stairs.
Suddenly, he was in front of you. You teetered on the top step, almost losing your balance.
Stefan just stood there, arms crossed.
“Stefan!” you called.
He put one large hand on your back, stopping you at the last second. Your heart raced.
He weaved both hands in your hair. “I've had enough of hearing you moan my brother’s name every night,” he said. “That's what I want to hear from now on.”
You pulled his hands off. “How can you talk like that? You… loved me once.”
“Right?” Stefan said, gesturing with one bejewelled hand. “My life used to be all ‘What does Elena want?’ ‘What does she feel?” He shook his head. “It was exhausting. Things are so easy now. I want you, so I'll have you.”
He took one step down.
Then another.
You were forced to step backwards, your back arching.
You gripped the banister. “I know you, Stefan. Somewhere in there, you're still the man I loved. You don't want to do this.”
Stefan stepped down again, his arms crossed. He placed each foot carefully, like this was a brilliant dance.
You had no idea how many steps were left till you hit the floor. You didn't dare to look back.
Stefan leaned forwards, opening his eyes wide. “Take a look,” he said. “No, really. Do you see the faintest hint that I care what you think?”
Your heart sank. His shark eyes contained only one emotion: hunger.
“You won't get away with this,” you breathed, your eyes stinging with tears.
Stefan took another step, his lips hardening into a smile.
Your foot sank, searching for another step, but there were no steps left. You tripped, hesitating for a second.
As Stefan catched you, his breath was hot in your ear. “Oh, Y/n. I think I already have.”
_
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Summary: Klaus treats you like trash, but you keep falling into his bed. One night, Elijah confronts you about it.
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader
Genre: Suggestive, Angsty
Word count: <1k
You staggered out of Klaus's room at 3AM, sobbing. You dragged the sleeve of your party dress over your eyes. Blood was sticky on your neck.
Klaus's bedroom door opened, and a bundle of your clothes was thrown out.
You grabbed them, and walked to the door.
In the dark, you didn't notice that a figure was leaning against the door, stopping you from leaving.
You flicked on the light, and gasped.
Elijah was standing there, staring at you.
“Get out of my way,” you sniffed.
Elijah frowned, his thumb flicking a tear off your jaw. “What did that bastard do to you?”
“None of your business,” you said, reaching for the doorhandle.
Rolling his eyes, Elijah took off his jacket and thrust it at you. “Take this, at least.”
You were going to refuse, but then a shiver ran through you. You grabbed the jacket. It smelled like Elijah - perfumed, yet earthy.
As you opened the door, you could feel his dark eyes on you, on the holes in your ripped dress.
You turned. “You have no right to look at me like that. You live with Klaus!”
Elijah scoffed. “And I've learnt to look the other way as he treats beautiful women like animals. But not you, Y/n. You… can do better than him.”
“Oh yeah?” you said. “And you could give me so much more than Klaus?” You grabbed his collar, bringing your face right up to his. “Save it,” you whispered. “You men are all the same.”
You let him go, roughly. Elijah rubbed his neck, his eyes on you.
You met Elijah's eye. “At least, before Klaus treats me like crap, he gives me a nice good fuck.”
Elijah's lips fell open.
You liked how shocked he looked, how hurt. You were sick of Elijah pitying you. Well, you'd won this time.
To your surprise, he didn't leave. He stepped towards you.
His eyes never leaving yours, he knelt and kissed your hand. You shivered for a whole new reason.
“It is sad to see that little has changed since I was a young man,” he said. “Great women still believe they have to let men push them around to find pleasure.”
“And you wouldn't push me around?” you said.
“Oh, Y/n,” he murmured, dragging his soft lips along your wrist, up your arm, to place a wet kiss in the hollow beneath your collarbone. “I would do you like a gentleman.”
Your nostrils flared. “Yeah, right.”
Elijah lifted you by the waist, and somehow, you knew to wrap your legs around him.
He spun you around, slowly. You let your head fall back, your hair cascading. In his arms, you felt above everything, above Klaus.
“Y/n,” he said in your ear, “I would never send you away at the break of dawn. I would wake you in the morning with a hundred kisses.”
He kissed an invisible trail along each of your collarbones, then finally, in the gap between.
It was a totally different feeling to being with Klaus. You were used to excitement, a little fear - but not this. Not this melting.
Elijah let you down, slowly. His hands moved down your body, lightly grazing each scratch and cut on your skin. “I would never make you call out in pain.” His eyes narrowed naughtily. “Only in pleasure.”
Suddenly, his face was deadly serious. His fingers felt cold as he wiped away your tears. He spoke through gritted teeth. “And this I promise you, Y/n. I will never make you cry.”
You narrowed your eyes at Elijah, thrusting your chin up at him. “Things have changed a little since you were you were young. You might be a gentleman, but I'm no lady.”
Eliijah smiled, watching you intently. “Then I suppose you’ll have to teach me how to pleasure the modern woman."
You smiled, interlacing your fingers with his. “Challenge accepted.”
_
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Summary: You're craving Damon... but you're marrying his brother.
Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Reader
Genre: Suggestive, Angsty
Word count: <1k
It was 11:30pm. You knocked on the door of Damon’s apartment, shivering from the night rain.
You gasped when you saw Damon. There were dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't moved in days.
“May I come in?” you said, trying to lighten the mood with some vampire humour.
Damon stared into his whiskey glass. “If I say no, will that stop you?” he said.
“No,” you said, grinning and stepping inside. “You still haven't said if you'll be Stefan’s best man at the wedding. It's next week, you know.”
“I've been busy,” Damon said.
“Stefan really wants you there.”
Damon looked at you. “Really? Then why didn't he come and ask me himself?”
“He cares about you, Damon,” you pleaded. “He’s just worried you'll say no.”
“Three observations: it's nearly midnight, you clearly walked here, and Stefan has never asked me to be his best man. Therefore, I can deduce that you're asking me to do this stupid thing. Trust me, Stefan doesn't want me as his best man.” Damon downed his drink and got up. “Now get out.”
You crossed your arms. “I mean it, Damon. I'm not leaving till you agree to this.”
In a flash, Damon’s face darkened, and he slammed his glass down so hard it cracked. “What the hell do you want me to say, Y/n? I’m happy you're marrying my brother? Congratulations. The damn gravy boat I bought you got lost in the mail.”
Damon put one hand on your shoulder and pushed you out of his apartment so fast you got a head rush.
He walked back inside and sat down. “The worst part is, Y/n, you don't even have the guts to say that you want me there. So get out.”
You stood there in silence, fighting the tears that pooled in your eyes. You had lied to Stefan to be here, telling him you were visiting Bonnie. You had run in the rain, shivering, just to ask this one question. And now, all your effort was going to be wasted.
“I would-” you tried to say. “Stefan would regret it for the rest of his life if you weren't there.”
Tears fell silently down your face.
“Not good enough,” Damon said.
Finally, after a long pause, you said. “Fine, Damon. I need you at my wedding because… I need everyone I love to be there.”
Damon moved towards you so fast his body was a blur. He stood inches away from you, his pale eyes searing into yours. His hands slid instinctively up your hips to rest on your waist. He bowed his head, his forehead almost touching yours. His eyes fell half shut as he inhaled your scent.
“Damon…” you said quietly.
“Shh,” Damon whispered. “Don't ruin it.”
You knew that you should push Damon off, but you didn't. You told yourself you were just letting him live out his fantasy - but the truth was, you didn't want to disturb the moment either.
“You… love me,” Damon said, biting his lip and continuing to gaze at you.
His hand flashed up to your face, and he traced an invisible line over your eyelids, your cheekbones, and finally your lips. His unfamiliar touch was almost painful, like being stung.
He leaned in, like he was going to kiss you. You took a step back.
“Just… give me this moment,” Damon said quietly.
You nodded, your heart pounding. You took a step towards him.
Finally, Damon brought his lips to yours. His mouth met yours infinitely slowly, his lips moulding against yours like he was etching this kiss in his memory. You were slightly ashamed to find that you kissing him. His scent, alcohol mixed with the faint floral smell of vervain, was different to Stefan’s. His long body was hard and stubborn to the touch, like it was made of stone. And yet, the way his hands moved over you was skilful, liquid.
You were ashamed to realise that you were the one gripping his back to pull him closer. You would have to carry the secret of this kiss to your grave.
After the longest few seconds of your life, Damon stepped back, grinning at you.
“Someone's looking cheerful,” you said, rolling your eyes like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
“I'll be your stupid best man,” he said, trying to look annoyed despite the smile that lingered on his face.
You stepped back outside the door. “Thank you, Damon,” you said.
Damon frowned, leaning on the doorframe. His voice made it sound like he was telling a joke, but his eyes were serious. “Oh Elena… I think you're more dangerous than Katherine. I think you're the most dangerous woman I've ever met.”
_
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Summary: You're trapped in a room with a hallucinating Elijah. The problem? You look just like Tatia - the woman he loved, and murdered.
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Petrova doppelganger!reader
Genre: Suggestive, angst
Word count: <1k
Part 1 | Part 2 ⭐️
When Elijah woke up again, his face hadn't changed, and yet he looked a thousand years younger. Like a teenager.
You were expecting Elijah to look cruel or predatory, but he looked… innocent. Like he couldn't hurt an ant.
He fiddled with his daylight ring. “Why do you ignore me, Tatia?” he said.
You crouched. It was impossible to fear this innocent boy. “I haven't ignored you, Elijah,” you said, playing along.
Elijah pulled you to him, and suddenly, his head was resting in your lap.
You were amazed. You couldn't believe a thousand-year old-vampire in a Ralph Lauren suit was lying dreamily on your thighs right now.
You toyed with his hair, and, to your shock, Elijah blushed.
As you touched him, you were hit by another vision.
-
Elijah, lying on Tatia’s lap on a riverbank. She was plaiting daisies in his long hair, giggling as she tried to make him look as girly as possible.
Elijah frowned. “Did you kiss my brother Klaus to make me jealous? Or because you really love him?
“What would you prefer?” Tatia asked.
“To make me jealous,” he said. “Because that means your heart is mine.”
“Then… I did it just for you, Elijah,” Tatia said, laughing.
She bent down and kissed his lips the wrong way around, a quick sweet imprint.
-
The vision suddenly changed.
-
Tatia, in the woods.
Elijah, now a vampire, standing before her. His boyish body had hardened into something dangerous. Predatory.
Yet, in his glistening eyes, there was still love.
-
“Run away, Tatia,” Elijah said. His back was pressed against his bedroom wall. His shirt stuck to his body with sweat. “Now. Before… I lose myself to my thirst.”
You followed his gaze on your body. At first, it had seemed that he was staring at your chest, as men often did. Then, you realised he was watching your neck.
You swept your hair over your throat.
Elijah shook his head sadly, and yet, you realised, with animal pleasure. “Oh, Tia,” he murmured. “As if that would make any difference.”
Elijah took a step towards you. “Your scent, little kitten, is mouth-watering,” he murmured. “Did you always smell so tasty?”
You spun around, and started rattling the door handle.
“Help!” you screamed, your voice breaking. “Somebody!”
You felt Elijah appear right behind you.
You became very still. Your hand slid down and fell limply by your side.
In the little mirror by the door, you saw Elijah’s eyes turn red. He took off his jacket, and began rolling up the sleeves of his rich cream shirt.
You knew you had seconds to act. Seconds before it was too late.
You kicked the door as hard as you could. You grabbed a shard of wood in her fist, and turned to face Elijah.
For a moment, realisation flashed in Elijah’s eyes. A tear slipped down his cheek.
“Y/n,” he breathed. “I tried to resist,” he said. “I want you to remember that I tried to resist.”
You lifted the stake, and Elijah gave you a tiny nod.
Then, his face twisting into an an inhuman snarl, he pounced.
And you plunged the stake deep into his heart.
--THREE DAYS LATER--
You were brushing your hair before bed when you felt Elijah appear behind you.
Adrenaline pumped through you at his presence. You forced yourself to put the hairbrush down and face him.
“I cannot express my sorrow at what I did,” Elijah said.
“It wasn't your fault,” you said. In reality, you were shaking with anger. You knew you would never be comfortable around Elijah again.
“My only defence,” he said, his eyes narrowing in kindness, “is that the Petrova doppelganger is powerful magic. Even now, you have Tatia’s rosy cheeks,” his eyes caressed her face, “Katarina’s… charm,” his eyes lingering on her body, “and something completely new.” He smiled. “You have the courage to take on an Original - and win.”
Elijah reached into his inside jacket pocket, and pulled out a sparkling pearl necklace. “An apology gift. You see, to the human eye, all pearls appear identical. But to our kind, each one is unique. Just something to think about.”
He moved forward, like he was going to put the necklace around your neck, then stopped. He laid the necklace gently on the table.
He knelt, and kissed your hand. “It was a pleasure being defeated by you, Y/n,” he said.
Then, with a gust of cold air, he was gone.
—
Read Part 1 Here...
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Summary: Klaus catches you and Kol in an... awkward position. Can you hide Kol in time?
Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Reader
Genre: Suggestive, Naked!Kol
Word count: <1k
Klaus hissed, and dropped the strange object. Then, he used a pencil to lift it up again.
It was a pair of men's underwear. Black boxers, in fact.
“Little human?” he called, laughing. "Am I interrupting something?"
You stepped out of the bathroom, carefully clicking the door shut. Your cheeks were flushed, your usually perfect brown curls a mess.
“Hey, Klaus,” you said, leaning on the door. “What's, um, hanging?”
Klaus waved the boxers around like a flag. “These, I'm afraid.”
Your eyes widened. “Oh my god! Those… are mine.”
“Really?” Klaus said, getting up. “Then you wouldn't mind touching them - seeing as they're yours.”
“Of course,” you said, gingerly reaching out for them. Your hand froze, an inch away. You screwed your eyes shut.
Just then, the bathroom door flew open, pushing you off.
Kol appeared, shirtless, his hair a bird’s nest. Strange runes were drawn all over his face in lipstick. “Have you seen my pants, love? It's getting a bit chilly, if you know what I mean.”
He flashed Klaus a grin. “Hiya, big brother.”
Klaus lifted the underwear, a bemused smile spreading over his face. “So… should I go in there and deliver these, or is dear Kol coming out?”
“Aha!” Kol said. Pushing the door open, he sauntered out, butt naked. He stretched out his arm for the underwear.
You were momentarily silenced by the smooth ripples of his chest, and the trail of pale hair leading downwards.
Then you shielded Kol’s body with yours, muttering things about ‘insane’ and ‘nobody wants to see that’.
Kol whisked the pants away from Klaus, winking.
“Don't mind if I do.”
—
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