In the mood for dark!klaus. Could be hybrid or any manner of monster. 😊

This was going into NSFW territory, but it was getting long and I can’t post behind a cut. Probably. It hates me. Still definitely not SFW, but no full on smut.

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Klaus nudged the severed hand away from the remains of the bar with his boot, his rage still a living thing beneath his skin. Reaching for the bottle of bourbon that had somehow survived the destruction, he took a long drink before rolling his neck. It was impossible for him to sport a headache, and in the long millennia since his change he’d not once thought of such a mundane affliction. But in that moment, he could have sworn his temples ached.

Such stupidity was, thankfully, rare. Lasting long enough to challenge him with so few brain cells was something of an accomplishment, he supposed. Reaching for his phone, he sent a few pointed messages. While the dead around him were free from any additional consequences, their families were not. Such instances of insubordination were not to be tolerated, and with the mood riding him, he had a point to prove.

It seemed some of his creations had forgotten just how devastating choosing to make him their enemy could become. He would remind them.

“You know, I liked this bar.”

Klaus head snapped around and he stared at the vampire standing in the doorway, her pretty features curled into a familiar expression of disdain. Caroline Forbes.

Setting his phone down, he moved without consciously making the decision. Fisting his bloody hand in the front of her dress, he yanked her inside and pushed her against the wall. Her hands landed on his arms, fingers digging into shoulders as he pressed firmly between her thighs, the heat of her body as familiar as it was a fond memory.

“Hello, love. It’s been what? Twenty years?”

Her gaze was wary but yielding as she watched him, the lines of her body tense. “Twenty-five.”

“Hmm,” Klaus murmured. Deliberately, he traced the line of her ribs with palm before gripping the firm muscle of her thigh, and pulling it over his hip. Pressing closer in a reminder of their last meeting, the position he’d last had her in while he filled her with his cock, he leaned closer and smiled with his monster’s teeth. The faint tremor in her limbs wasn’t fear, but he ignored that first hint of her arousal. “So it was. What are you doing here, Caroline?”

“I’ve lived in this city for the last six months,” Caroline told him firmly, no hint of lie in her words. “The bartender makes a great espresso martini.” She paused, and peered over his shoulder. “Well, he did, at least.”

Nudging her jaw with his lips, he skimmed his fingers along the delicate line of her collarbone. Gooseflesh broke across her skin, and the lingering rage and blood lust shifted into something hotter, hungrier, and Caroline inhaled as his cock hardened against her. He rocked against her, just to hear her curse. “Did you betray me?”

She shook her head, gaze returning to his. “No.”

The stubborn will behind her eyes was one he was most familiar with. It had saved her from being his vampire sacrifice all those years ago in Mystic Falls, and it had intrigued him when they’d clashed over the happily resurrected Elena’s fate. And later, when she’d come to him, bleeding and badly wounded, but not broken, he’d seen it again when she’d offered him the information he’d wanted in exchange for revenge. The Salvatore’s has never appreciated how deadly an opponent Caroline could become.

But he had. He’d always enjoyed the edge of her however she’d shown it to him. In the sharpness of her barbed words, the greed of her in his bed. The iron straightness of her spine as she left him to devour the world. Gaze holding hers, his fingers skimmed down a path between her breasts and lower, until they smoothed a line up her thigh to trace the edge of the lace undergarments that she wore. “Good. I believe I made it clear the consequences of such a move, have I not?”

He’d burn the world. This young vampire had carved open his chest and left the wound gaping anew each time she left, but Klaus had been willing to wait for her to find him again. Their run ins over the years he had used carefully, pretty lures and evenings spent sexually indulging any desire she had so much as hinted at. Betrayal from her would not end kindly.

And she knew it.

Fingers lifting from his shoulder, she traced the outline of his mouth. “I know.” Her pupils had gone wide and dark, lashes fluttering as he traced the damp line her arousal left on the lace. Her breath hitched audibly when he circled outline of her clit, and he repeated the motion.

“Are you going to fuck me on this wall, Klaus?”

Klaus’ knew his smile was a dark thing, of dimples and monsters teeth at her raspy tease. He kept his fingertips light, even as her thigh tightened against his hip, as she sought to draw him closer. He would a point to ask her later what had turned her on the most. The blood? The carnage? The way he looked post slaughter?

He’d drag it out of her with his tongue on her clit. But now… “Would you like that, Caroline? It wouldn’t take much to shove this insubstantial materiel to the side, to fill you with my cock. You’re already so wet for me, and I’ve hardly touched you. Still. I’m sure a human passerber has called the cops. It’s likely we’d be interrupted. But if I recall correctly, you do so enjoy the occasional audience.”

The flush on her cheeks, the growing haze of her eyes tempted him to do just as he promised. To dig his teeth into the curve of her neck and drive them both to orgasm with his cock. To feel her tighten around him in release while the room flooded with cops. He did so enjoy it when she fought with him, bloody and his release sticky on her thighs. But it had been twenty five years since he had tasted Caroline, since he had listened to her voice rasp with entries and curses as he teased them both. Since he had watched her eyes as he pushed inside her.

Tonight he wanted her naked and begging, preferably tied to his bed. Tonight, he’d be satisfied with nothing less than her submission. Allowing himself one more lingering touch, his lips skimmed the edge of her jaw as she whimpered his name. “Come to my hotel with me.”

The noise she made as he pulled back, easing her leg to the ground was delightful, the haze of her arousal disappearing beneath the familiar lines of her temper. For a heartbeat or two, the crawling lines of her monster turned her eyes red.

“You’re such an ass.”

Hungry and aroused as she, he still laughed. “I’ll make it up to you.”

A hiss, as she got a look at her dress. “You’re replacing this.”

A glittering look, and he caught her hand as sirens sounded in the distance. “I’ll be responsible for replacing a number of your garments before this evening is over, I imagine.”

She muttered something unflattering, but her fingers twined with his as she turned to the door as the sirens grew closer. “Your tongue better be up to keeping those promises.”

Walking to the door to meet the calvary, he met her gaze to let her see the depths of his greed. It was both a promise and a warning. “I’m sure it will be.”

every scar your soulmate has appears on your body as a splotch of color

When she was born, her parents and the doctors were shocked to see how many she already had.

Small patches of yellow, orange and red on her knees. Some thin white stripes on her chubby little arms… It was her back, however, that raised some eyebrows. All over her skin there were lines in all shades of blue and purple.

It was almost beautiful, if one didn’t stop to wonder what had happened to her mate for him to have all those scars.

Still, Caroline grew up loving every splotch of color on her skin and vowing to love every scar her mate carried with him. At night, sometimes she reached for her back, touching the coloured spots and wondering — hoping — that he could feel it. That it comforted him, wherever he was.

Her only disappointment was that no new scar ever appeared.

She didn’t want him to get hurt, of course! But it was hard not to wish for a colourful scrapped knee when her friends at school constantly had new marks to show and gathered everyone around to help them theorize about where they’d come from.

She was probably craving new marks too much, because more than once she could’ve sworn she saw new splotches of colour on her skin — once, she was sure she had seen pink claw marks on her arms — but when she rushed downstairs to show her mother, they were long gone.

Caroline tried to ignore the strangeness. Even if it happened too often for her to believe she was probably growing crazy.

No one could get new scars and heal them this quickly… Right?

MORE OF BURNED PLEASE AND THANK YOUUUUU

Anonymous said: Hello, all your stuff is amazing and wonderful, but if you can please more soulmate first meeting!!! jgfdkbdkjfsbnkg;

Anonymous said: Could you please do a part 2 of Burned? I’m sucker for the soulmate trope and your drabbles are amazing! I look forward to them every week!!!

mini-sequel to this

Burned: Impossible

Don’t you dare hurt him.

The runes inscribed on his shoulder blade left some room for interpretation, which turned into something like a pastime for Rebekah. She wasted many an afternoon over the centuries wondering what her intended might say that finally brought her the joy of a soulmate bond. A thousand years of assuming his human mate had long since died left him drained of any sentiment for the idea, however, and Klaus had no patience for dreaming of impossibilities when the reality of breaking his curse was at hand.

Except the pretty, little vampire before him seemed perfectly real to him, her wrist very much in his hand.

Don’t you dare hurt him.

He might not have taken heed of her words had a blade of ice not appeared to dig into his shoulder, carving out the runes he rarely thought of until they burned into his awareness. His grip unknowingly tightened until she released a pained gasp, but like hell was he going to let her slip free. “Apologies,” he murmured, gently moving his hand up to her elbow instead. 

Though she glared, Caroline’s eyes still tracked the glide of his skin against hers, her fangs poking into her bottom lip. He felt an overwhelming urge to tug her closer, made primal when she easily stepped forward at the barest touch. 

“Care!”

Don’t you dare hurt him.

Holding back a growl, Klaus forced himself not to attack the wolf for the claim his little mate had made. “Greta.” The witch tried her containment spell again, this time successfully binding the wolf with invisible ties. “Chain him back.”

“But-”

“And when you’re finished, go to Maddox. Help him execute Plan B.” His tone brooked no argument, though Greta had grown too comfortable in his preference. Even now, he could tell she wanted to challenge his command, but she did as he needed and made her way out of the small dungeon. 

The wolf struggled loudly with his chains, his heart pounding with the effort. “Leave her alone.”

A crushing wave of possessiveness brought forth Klaus’s fangs, and he finally tore his gaze from Caroline - only for her to pull him back, her hand tangling in his necklaces to hold him close.

Don’t you dare hurt him.

“I’ll run,” she warned, her voice low. “Hurt my friends, and you’ll never see me again.”

She was a brave one, his mate. Laying a gentle hand on her cheek, he couldn’t resist a soft stroke over her lips with his thumb. Bravery would get her killed in the wrong hands. “We’ll see, sweetheart,” he said in a reassuring tone.

Then, he snapped her neck and swung her into his arms. Klaus relished the horror in the young wolf’s expression. “I hope one of your friends thinks to look for you when this is all over.” Caroline’s head rolled to rest over his heart, and he just barely resisted a fond glance down. “I’d like to humor her from time to time, no reason not to start now.”

Before the boy could answer, Klaus sped out of the cellar. He needed to find his mate a safe place for her incapacitated state, preferably one she couldn’t escape should she wake early. But it was a simple enough problem to solve, and quickly - he had a curse to break. Nothing - not even Caroline - would derail him now.

KC + YOU WERE SWINGING FOR MARS AU + serendipity

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said the world could be burning;

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Caroline is drinking from his wrist, with such leisure. Her tongue is hot and wet around his skin, seeking out the vein, the blood, the madness, everything he’s ever wanted to give her. Her throat hums, filled with red, sloshing and sated. She loves this. She loves his blood. He thinks he sees stars when he blinks.

He’d lost, Elijah had won with not even a speck of dirt on him, and the Original siblings, the losers, Elijah allows a moment for such kitsch and all had quietened for the moment.

Until Caroline barges into his art studio, eyes wide and quite frightful, demanding apology for using her house as platform for their twisted little game. She looks as if she’s come back to avenge his breaking of her wrist. He allows her to break his, right before she bites into it.

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