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bread0nhead · 1 year

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It Takes Strong Hands To Hold a Brat

Hi. Hello. Long time no post. Heres your 100% orgasmic juice box. Come take a drink.

Brat Tamer Shigaraki x F!Reader

•No Minors or Ageless readers allowed- 18+•

Please share if you enjoyed, much appreciated!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“As our new fearless leader of the Paranormal Liberation Front, I have instructed Y/N to be of any service to you as your healing!”

Re-Dasto rubs his clammy hands feverishly together, like the fly you think of him as. The way he grovels over shigaraki like a quailing love sick puppy makes both you and shigaraki roll your eyes. Something you both notice, stacking the cringe on thicker.

“Don’t say it like that. For all we know, he’s probably some incel creep who gets his rocks off to women serving him like the big man he is”

Re-Dastros skin blooms darker in small patches as one eyebrow twitches and the corner of his toothy smile cracks. An airy chuckle halts Re-Dastro from whatever he was about to barrage you with.

“Brave of you to come in here with a mouth like that.”

The raspy yet sultry tone to his voice melts in your brain and send heat to your core. You can feel the way your cheeks flair up just a few degrees warmer. Fuck, did he notice? He looks at you with a glint in his eyes and a lop-sided grin that taunts at your nerves.

“S-See? A total creep. Have someone else do it.”

Damn you stutter.

“I don’t want her anyways.”

Shigaraki turns around, with his back to you and Re-Dastro, returning to whatever he’s fucking around with on his laptop.

“I’ll send someone else right away!”

Re-Dastro pinches your ear to drag you out of the room, whispering about how you royally fucked this up.

“No. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Right! Of course!”

Your ear is let free from Re-Dastros grip, leaving a radiating throbbing pain. But nothing as painful as the pain in your ass being second cousins to Re-Dastro.

“Someone as strong as you doesn’t need assistance, even a broken leg won’t slow you down!”

“Maybe you should service him. You’re already kissing his ass. Why not wipe it while you’re at it?”

Shigarki slaps his scared hand over his mouth, swallowing his laughter from being more obvious. When he is able to contain his amusement, deep crimson eyes dance over your body, leaving your inner thighs squirmy ever so slightly. His head moves to rest against his open palm. Pure white clumps of hair drape across his forehead, brining more attention to the color of his eyes. He smiles at you. It’s a warm smile, likes he’s pleased with you.

Shigarki pushes himself out of his chair, slamming his laptop shut. He manages to restrain his limping as he comes close to you. His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time. Breath catches in your lungs when he’s close enough where you can smell the cypress from the soap on his skin. Even as he uses the cane to hold his damaged body up, he towers over you. Dominates your space. His lips ghost over the shell of your unharmed ear. You take in a subtle inhale of the crook of his neck, without moving. Letting the smell fill your lungs and spark lustful ideals in your mind.

Shigaraki whispers low enough so it’s a moment kept between just between you and him.

“Next time, be careful with that mouth of yours.”

Your lips fall slack and heat builds up between your legs. That pulsation of desire demanding to be fed. Filled.

Shigarki straightens up while creating space between. The look of satisfaction now replaced with something much colder.

“Leave. Both of you.”

His back turned and his attention returns to being solely on the contents of his laptop screen. Re-Dastro silently gives orders to leave as he walks back to what you imagine would be his office.

A strong breath expels from your lungs as your body drops the tension it was carrying.

What the fuck was that?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next time you see Shigaraki is days later for his coronation, letting his new followers know his plans for the PLF.

You’re once again standing outside the massive door to his private suite. Draped over your arm is the new custom tailored suit that Re-Dastro instructed you to deliver. The lavish fabric still warm from being pressed. Your teeth toy with your bottom lip as you picture how good Shigaraki will look in the suit. And how much better it would look off. With a shaky exhale, you expel any remaining nerves and firmly knock on his door. Just seconds later, the door opens to shigaraki shirtless and hair more unruly than before. Scares, bruises and partially healed wounds litter his arms and chest. His pants unfastened, showing the band of his brief. He looks like he’s been awake all night, tossing and turning unable to get any moment of rest.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit. And what did I say about that fucking mouth?”

“Not sure. Wasn’t listening last time.”

There’s a long moment of silence as you both glare into another, neither willing to back down. You like this game. Like poking at his ego, seeing how far you can take it. He carry’s himself like he knows he’s strong. Like he can not just control any situation, but dominate it. You want that. Want it so badly it’s all you have been able to think about since your first introduction with your new leader. The thought of his voice making demands assigned only for you. His strong hands holding your body in place, no matter how much you squirm under his touch. His eyes watching over you, observing you. Admiring you. Fuck. It’s too much. You break away from his gaze and shove the suit into his chest. Shigaraki grins at his victory and the way it makes squirm with embarrassment. It’s cute.

Shigaraki lets the suit fall to the floor, instead grabs your arm with four fingers to force you inside, kicking the door behind you when your far enough in. As soon as the door latches shut, your back is pushed against it. The hand that gripped at your arm moves to squeeze your face, causing your lips to pucker out. He smiles at how your brows knot in anger but your eyes tell the truth of your twisted satisfaction.

“You’re a real fuckin brat, ya’know?”

“Aww, can’t handle having your feelings hurt by lil’ o’ me?”

Shigaraki’s head lulls back with your toothy grin on his face and a dark breathy chuckle. His tongue drags across his lips, imagining the taste of you.

“I can handle you.”

His words are spoken like they’re law. Unmistakable proven fact. He can handle you. Every part of you. Like it would be as easy as breathing air.

Let the games begin.

You crane your neck so your lips just barely touch his. You make a show of biting a corner of your bottom lip with lust in your eyes. Provoking him to play along.

“Yeah? Show me.”

Shigaraki takes in a deep inhale through his teeth, following by a breathy curse. His free hand drags up the side of your thigh, under your skirt to feel the softness of flesh. He moves tauntingly slow as he works up your body. He can feel your skin shiver as it grows littered with goosebumps. Two fingers swipe along your damp clothed cunt as he lets out a heavy breath in your ear, whispering “you’re so fucking wet”. Your eyes roll back and it’s impossible to hold back a moan. His hand works further up, gripping the side of your hip, giving it a good squeeze. Slowly he works his way up to under your breast and gives your neck a quick bite, enough to leave a mark but not enough to break the skin. When his mouth unlatches your flesh, his eyes stare deeply into yours with his lips ghosting over yours. You watch as his lids shut, angling yourself for the kiss.

But it never came.

Instead your body is falling backwards as the door swings open. When your ass hits the floor, you finally register that he opened the door and the shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he’s looking down on you.

“I win this round, brat.”

God damnit.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“That was quite the speech. Really liked the part about not holding back. Going wild and all that.”

You’re leaning up against Shigaraki’s door with a very expensive bottle of champagne in one hand and two crystal flute glasses in the other.

Shigaraki can’t help but smile at your comment, especially the way your tone dripped with shameless carnal desires. He’s not surprised to see you back here so soon. Especially considering it was just hours ago since you were last here, moaning under his touch. What was a surprise was the overwhelming amount of relief he felt seeing you.

As he goes to move closer to you, he’s careless about his injuries from his fall mere minutes ago. Pain shoots up his leg and into his spine, causing his to stumble his side into the wall.

“Shit! Hey!”

You rush to him, dipping your body under his arm as support while being careful not to drop the contents in your hands. He could see your genuine concern for him. Another surprise to Tomura. He’s quick to collect himself and remove himself from you, not wanting to show any signs of weakness. Especially not to you. Shit, why does he care what you think?

Shigaraki drags himself inside his large lavishly furnished suite, with you following close behind. When the door shuts, you set the champagne and glasses in the nearest table and carefully observe Tomura. He’s wrapped in bandages. Wounds opening back up causing blood to bloom. It’s clear he’s in a lot pain. Pain any normal person would barely be able to handle. You watch as he strips himself of the heavy red jacket and moves to sit on the edge of his bed.

“I don’t have the energy for your bratty games. Or that shitty mouth.”

He hates how harsh he came off. Hates that he couldn’t stop himself from spitting venom. Hates that you don’t leave. Instead you grab the first aid kid on his bed side table and kneel between his legs. Without speaking a word, you unlace his red shoes and carefully remove them. Next you begin to unbutton his suite jack, followed by his shirt. The entire time no words are spoken and you don’t look him in the eyes once. Tomura can feel his breathing getting heavy. He watches you closely, every movement you make, he carefully observes. When he’s down to nothing but his pants, you begin remove his soiled dresses with the softest of touch. A sort of touch he’s never felt. One that moves with care and consideration. He trusts your touch. Enough to close his eyes and focus completely one the way your fingertips brush against his skin as you attentively dress his wounds with new bandages.

When you’re finished, Tomura’s body relaxes into his king size bed. His bare back pressed into the plushness of the comforter. You crawl up beside him and trace your eyes over his features, admiring his unique beauty. Tomura turns his head towards you, opening his eyes to stare into yours. This time you lock eyes without it being some childish game. It’s something else. Something new. Your hand cups the side of his face, moving to slowly play with the white strands of hair.

“You looked really good in that suite. It’s a shame it had to come off.”

You tease with a flirty smile.

Your comment was a surprise to Tomura. Mostly because he rarely, if ever, gets compliments on his appearance. He can’t help but chuckle. You’re an enigma to Tomura. Someone unlike anyone else he’s met. You’re unapologetically…. You.

“I don’t believe it. So you can not be a brat sometimes.”

His voice is gruff from his speech earlier. Raspier than usual. Making it sexier than usual too.

“Well don’t get use to it.”

Tomura swiftly moves to cage you under him. One hand has both your wrists pinned over your head while the other paws at the exposed flesh of your hips.

“I wouldn’t want too. I like it.”

“Yeah? Too bad you can’t do anything about it.”

You maneuver yourself out from under him and straddle yourself on top of him. Slowly grinding your hips so your rubbing against his hardening cock. You can feel his mass. Can only imagine how overwhelming size of his member.

“You can hardly stand. You won’t be able to fuck the brat out of me with your weakened state.”

You empathize your words by grinding yourself slower and harder on him.

“Fuuuuck”

Tomura groans while digging his palms into his browns.

“I want you to dominate me. Put this brat in her place.”

This time it’s a deep throaty growl Tomura makes, followed by a single laugh that’s more like a puff of air.

“Or are you not man—“

Your words are choked off by a strong hand wrapped around your throat, with its pinky lifted. Your whole body halts anymore movement. You smile down at Tomura, nearly salivating. This is exactly what you wanted. No. Needed.

“Strip. And make a show of it.”

His demand is strong. It sends a thrill throughout your body. So you do just as he requires.

You crawl off of him and stand before him as he’s propping himself up with his forearms on the bed. Your hands run over your body, starting from your neck down between your thighs. Your hips sway slow and softly as your shimmy the tight pencil skirt off the delicious curves of your ass. When the fabric pools at your ankles, you begin to unbutton your shirt slowly, being sure to keep your eyes locked on his. Whenever Tomura did stray away from your gaze, onto your body. You stopped unbutton and gave a teasing smile. God, he wanted to dust that shirt off you so fucking bad.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Your shirt feel to the floor, and your left standing in your heels and lacy under garments. You trace your fingers over your wet mound.

“Since that first day we met… I touched myself every night thinking about this moment.”

Tomura moans and palms at this straining cock. Two of your fingers dip under your panties and into your folds. Both you and Tomura moan simultaneously.

He can’t take how painfully slow this is anymore. Tomura grabs your wrist and thrusts you forward into the bed post at one of the corners of the bed. He wraps all five of his fingers around your underwear, watching to crumble and roll off your perfect body. He leans in close you. You grip the bed post hard, eager for what’s to come.

“Glad I wasn’t the only one.”

Your eyes roll back and a breathy moan escapes your lips. Two of Tomura’s fingers plunge deep into your crevice. The squelching of your sopping cunt fill Tomura’s ears. He plays with you. Watching and listening closely to see which movement of his fingers your body responds most too. His other hand reaches around to play with your nipples. Pinches, flicking and squeezing. Your sounds become loud. Enough for any passersby to easily know what is going on behind closed doors.

Tomura retracts his fingers and moves to squat down. He spreads you open, getting a good look at you. Your embarrassed at how intense he looks at you. Licking his lips at the sight. Soon after he drags his tongue over your pulsating cunt and he’s moaning at the sweet taste.

“Fucking perfect”

Tomura whispers before delving into you, feasting on you. He moves like your the last meal he’ll ever eat. It has you screaming his name along with a string of profanity. You’re grabbing into the bed post like it’s the only thing keeping you down on earth.

“Where’s that bratty mouth of yours now? Huh?”

You try to conjure up words. But your mouth just bubbles incoherently.

Tomura laughs. He’s enjoying this. He needs more. After a quick slap to your ass, he stands up and grabs his tie that’s tossed on the bed. He uses it to tightly tie your wrists to the bed post, preventing you from moving. Not that you would anyways.

“You’re mine after this, Y/N.”

Before you have a moment to even think of his words, his thick long cock penetrates deep inside of you, causing you to moan loud enough it borders a scream.

Tomura slaps his hips into yours, letting his balls clap against you. He’s deep and fast with every trust. He grabs a fist full of your hair to pull your head back, using it as leverage to only trust himself stronger into you. He’s grunting, moaning. Even his filthy sounds alone could probably make you cum.

“Y-yes-ah- yours! Yours! Yours!”

You chant as the sensation of Tomura sparks throughout your body. You can feel yourself salivating. This is the best fuck you have ever had. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to live without Tomura after this. Hell. You’re sure of it.

Tomura loves this thrill. Loves the power you give him. He’s addicted to you now. He wonders how he’ll go four months without you as he’s under the doctors care. Until then, he plans to fuck you stupid every night. Every morning. Every chance he gets.

Your both moaning and close to the edge. Tomura can feel his balls swell. He reaches around to play with your clit, while biting into your neck. It has you screaming his name, loud enough for the whole building to hear. He wants everyone to know. Needs everyone to know your his and no one besides him can touch you.

“I’m gonna- gonna-“

You can’t even finish the though before your convulsing around him, sucking and squeezing his dick causing him to cum with you. Filling you with every drop he has. Your both panting, covered in sweat and saliva. You slump to the floor, while still tied up. Tomura sits next to you as he catches his breath.

When both of you have evened out, he finally unties your wrists. There’s a moment you both share, it’s unlike any other moment. It’s not filled with wanton need or firey passion. It’s calm but strong. It feels like if you dive into this feeling, there’s no going back. Tomura rests his forehead against yours. You both hesitate in this moment. Neither of you are sure who did it first, who took the first leap into the unknown. But as your lips lock with his and teeth and tongue collide. You know there’s no holding back.

#tomura smut #shigiraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n

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exorciseurdemons · 10 months

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You like being strong, ageless, fearless. We're the same, Caroline.

You weren’t the villain of my story

#klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #klaroline #tvd #the vampire diaries #the originals

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anime-lover-forever-1127 · 2 years

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The Vampire Diaries Universe Longer Stories Masterlist

12 Moons {Klaus Mikaelson x Caroline Forbes}

Niklaus Mikaelson is the feared Original Hybrid King of New Orleans, ruling the kingdom of the night with an iron fist. Well Caroline Forbes is a reporter trying to save a sinking relationship.

She does not expect that on a trip to New Orleans, trying to save her relationship, the hybrid would kidnap her, claiming and mark her as his mate.

Giving them exactly 12 moons for him to make her fall in love with him, and accept their bond.

Intro,

Always & Forever {Klaroline}

What if when Klaus died, he didn’t stay dead, but was reborn as Arthur Leywin. Soon after he comes, he realizes he wasn’t the only one to be reborn. Because the Mikaelson’s will always find each other again, even in a different universe.

Always & Forever,

Right?

The Mikaelson’s are a united family

The Mikaelson’s will receive the happiness they deserve

OP Klaus, OP Caroline, OP Mikaelson’s

Pairings: Klaus/Caroline, Elijah/Katherine, Kol/Bonnie

P.s. I also love the idea of them being vampire’s too much to let it go. So I won’t. They will eventually become vampire’s here as well; and Klaus will still have his wolf. (and yes Freya, Bonnie, and Kol will still have there magic)

Intro,

Back To The Start {Klaroline}

When the white oak stake pierced through Klaus’ heart, nature became imbalanced. To fix this, the witches on the other side were forced to combine their powers and return the balance to nature, by spending the Original Hybrid back in time to when he first entered Mystic Falls, looking to break his curse.

Now, armed with all his memories of a future he refuses to live through again, Klaus intends to make some changes.

Ones that he will result with his family by his side, and Caroline Forbes in his arms.

Intro,

Expecting... Pups {Klaus Mikaelson x Caroline Forbes}

What if Klaus had not only gotten Hayley ‘pregnant’, but Caroline pregnant with his child as well. How would they take the news?

What would happen when a certain doppelganger brings Hayley’s secret to light? Would it finally earn her, her long desired freedom.

And the biggest question of all, how would the story change if it was Caroline that was pregnant with Klaus’s triplets?

Intro, Chapter 1: I’ll Always Choose You, Chapter 2: I’ll Wait, I’ll Wait, Chapter 3: I Can’t Believe He’s My Godchild’s Father

Klaroline ABC

Come learn the alphabets with Klaroline.

So far, the plan is to write a (Short - ?) piece, for a word starting with each letter. It can be canon and canon AU. So basically I’ll write the scenes with extra Klaroline. It will be mostly Canon/(some)AU-Canon (Maybe some past/future as well). So I won’t be diverging too far from the script with these ones.

I won’t be writing them in order - but I do plan to arrange them in order.

Allure of Darkness, Everything You Want In Life,

Morningstar {Bonnie Bennett x Kol Mikaelson}

Bonnie Bennett is a homicide detective in Los Angeles, working as a member of the L.A.P.D.

Kol Mikaelson, better known as Lucifer Morningstar was the ruler of hell, until boredom overtook him and she decided to take a vacation.

What will happen when their paths cross?

(Kennett Lucifer AU)

Intro,

Once Upon A Hybrid {Klaroline}

Where Caroline is the Evil Queen, and the hybrid worms his way into her and her son’s life, becoming a pillar in it. Where one Mikaelson is, the others soon follow.

And when Emma Swan joins their story, people soon discover that she may be more Mikaelson than Charming.

A TVD and Once Upon A Time Crossover starring Caroline Forbes as the Evil Queen and Klaus Mikaelson as the (Read: Puppy) Hybrid.

Pairings: Klaus/Caroline, (Established by the next chapter), Katherine/Elijah (Established), Enzo/Bonnie/Kol (Established Polly), Finn/Sage (Established), Freya/Emma, Rebekah/Hook

Chapter 1 - I’ll Take That As A Challenge,

Queen {Klaus Mikaelson x Caroline Forbes}

What if everyone was wrong about Caroline? She wasn’t weak, useless or shallow. Klaus was right all along, she’s strong, ageless, fearless.

She is a Queen.

Also, did I forget to mention that she’s Dragon, Vampire, Witch, Werewolf, Phoenix, has Silas powers, Qetsiyah’s powers, She can control the veil, see ghosts, and that she can compel anyone and anything, Honorary god, Has the power of the 12 Olympians, and Odin, Loki, and Hela.

She’s an Alpha Female, ready to claim her Alpha Male

(And let’s not forget about her BFF’s Katherine, Stefan, Kai and Enzo)

Intro/Info You Will NEED (Please Read T-T), Chapter 1: You Brought Me Back

Sired {Klaus Mikaelson x Caroline Forbes}

What if Tyler wasn’t Klaus’ first hybrid? What if it was Caroline, who was now as a result sired to him. She must now choose between what is right, and what is easy. But is what’s right, still considered the same as it was before?

Would Caroline choose to unsire all the hybrids?

Would Kol still die?

How would the bond affect their relationship?

Intro,

The Good Girl In Dagger Heels & The Mafia Boss In A Henley {Klaroline}

Caroline should have known the money from the heist was too good to be true. But now the hot dad she met during the robbery/one night stand, turns out to be the Mafia Boss she stole from?

Yeah, that can’t be good.

And when she was praying for a miracle to get her, Katherine, and Bonnie out of this mess.

Mother Nature answered instead, just not in the way she expected.

Now, she’s carrying said, Mafia Boss werewolf puppy!

Intro,

The Hybrid & The Harvest Witch

What if instead of four girls sacrificed every 300 years, it was five? Marcel may have not made it in time to save three of them, but he did arrive in time to save two; Davina Claire and her cousin, Caroline Forbes.

Where Kol isn’t the only Mikaelson to fall in love with a Harvest Witch.

Intro, 1. The Harvest, 2.Princess Grace & Nik

The Mikaelson’s Mother

What if Klaus was still the product of an affair. But instead of Esther, it was Mikael who had an affair with a werewolf.

How would one woman,

One mother,

Change the story?

When Ester cast the vampirism spell on the originals, Mikael secretly gave Astrid the drink as well. Now, a 1000 years later. Mikael and his family are once again in Mystic Falls, to break the curse binding the love of his eternal life, and their son’s werewolf sides.

Intro, 1.Katherine’s Escape, 2.The Vow I Swore A Thousand Years Ago, 3.Elijah Eloped?!

The Swan Queen {Klaroline}

What if Sophie, to keep Klaus in control, decided to curse Caroline to live as a swan whenever the sun shines?

Klaus chasing desperately after a swan?

Yes

Caroline waking up in ridiculous situations?

Yes

Kol having a field day and an endless supply of Swan Princess jokes?

Hell Yeah!

(Another Klaroline fanfic that sounds like a crack idea, but I promise it’s not…ish)

Pairing: Klaroline, Katherine/Elijah, Enzo/Bonnie, Kol/Davina, Marcel/Rebekah

Intro, 1.Together,

Watching The Show Where A Klaroliner Creates The TVD Plot (Klaroline)

Despite what the title suggests, I swear to god this is not a crack fic!

What happens when the Originals, the Mystic Fall gang, and some special guests are whisked away to a room outside of space and time to watch The Vampire Diaries and The Originals.

With me making some special twists of my own.

Because the Originals are GOD DAMN +1000, immortal vampires who should be frickin respected!

Also pairings will include: Klaus/Caroline, Kol/Bonnie/Enzo (Poly), Stefan/Rebekah, Elena/Damon, Finn/Sage, Elijah/Katherine, Marcel/Camile, Silas/Qetsiyah

Bashing: Damon, Elena, Tyler, Cami, Hayley

Intro, 1.White Oak Stakes, 2.The Last Day (And Damon Dies Twice!), 3. Caroline Has a GPA of 4.0 & Klaus is Proud His Wifey (how can he not be?), 4. I Owe You?

What To Do When You Are Reborn As Katherine Pierce {Kalijah}

What happens when Katherine dies, she is reborn as Katherine Pierce right before the supernatural soap opera starts in Mystic Falls. Well she makes a very simple survival plan of course. Step 1, become Caroline’s new BFF. Step 2, Get into Elijah Mikaelson’s bed!

Intro,

#Masterlist #TVD #The vampire diarie #originals #fanfiction

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crystalhopesblog · 5 months

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The Empowering Walk: Unveiling the Timeless Legacy of Red High Heels

Red high heels have gone beyond being just an extra to become a classic fashion statement that captivates people's hearts across people of all ages. A huge history spanning years and civilizations may be found in red high heels it have a cultural connotations that are not limited to personal expression. Red high heels are appreciated all over the world, which is a testament to their charm and capacity to cross cultural barriers and become a global representation of strong femininity.

Red high heels, which were worn by both sovereigns and revolutionaries, grew to represent strength, confidence, and a dash of bold femininity over time.

With every step you take, red high heels transform from shoes into a means of expressing oneself and radiating confidence and enthusiasm. Red high heels is a symbol of fashion femininity, empowerement and authority this kind of footwear can boost a womens confident because of their polished and exquisite appearance, high heels represent the strength of femininity in a woman.

This foot wear continue to make a striking statement on runways, red carpets, and city streets in the twenty-first century. Fashion designers utilize them as timeless classics in their collections, and celebrities embrace these to add a dash of color and intensity to their ensembles. Wearing these eye-catching shoes is an attentive gesture, a declaration that the wearer is daring to be noticed, confident in her identity, and proudly embracing her femininity. Because of their enhanced height and excellent posture, when ladies wear them, they acquire confidence that this piece represents professionalism and reflects how they dress.

This serves as a statement of eternal confidence and ageless elegance. Women who prefer to put on red high heels frequently discover that the act affects not just their appearance but also their thinking, strengthening their conviction in their own expertise it allows woman to express their style at the same time symbolizing being boldness and fearless.

Women's confidence in red high heels extends beyond the surface. It reflects a deliberate decision to embrace one's individuality, walk proudly, and traverse the world with confidence it is also an indication that confidence is more than just appearance; it is associated with accepting and expressing one's inner strength.

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eternalxbarbie · 1 year

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in the future, if there was a way for you to have kids, would you?

Honestly, I try not to think about it because it's just not possible. I know that a lot of people talk about how much they hate being a vampire, how much they miss being human, but that was never my plight. I was called out a long time ago by someone who knows me better than I like to admit - I like being strong, and ageless, and fearless. Even if the cure was available to me, I wouldn't take it, which means kids aren't in the cards. Sometimes I think about having a family and what that would be like, and I'm sure I would love being a mom. It's just sadly not my path and that's okay too.

#answered #meme

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darlingdxll · 1 year

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i want to be wanted. i want to loved. i want someone to look at me and think 'she's everything i want'. the kind of love thats beyond sex, or lust. i want romance. like the kind that writers dream of when they so tenderly put words on the page. the purest form of love where it feels like your atoms have been drawn to each other since the beginning of the universe. i was never one to believe in soulmates, but i want a love that makes me. a love so classic it sends me back in time, back to my childhood, where i loved so wholeheartedly and without fear. a love that could make me fearless again. love that licks the salt from my cheeks and kisses my pain. a love so strong it feels like hate.

oh to be seen in such a way. to be desired. to fall together through the clouds and to never stop falling. weightlessness, never hitting the ground. being ageless while the world crumbles and rebuilds itself around us. us. and it would always be that way, a circle like the path around the sun, with us at the centre, fossilized in the stone of our romance.

yet its a dream. a pretty little want that haunts my nightmares. i'd sooner die than find the love i so strongly crave. because the love i long for is my own. i yearn for the acceptance only i can give myself. looking for it in others is a comfort, a sign that love like this is possible, and yet i cannot gift it to myself. my love is sealed behind a wall, unwilling. i will always love others in this way, and perhaps others may love me in this storybook way as well, but i will never feel the warmth of my own love. the burning flame in my heart put out by my own insecurity. but love is fickle that way isn't it. at our fingertips, at our lips, and yet always just out of reach.

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certifiedceraunophile · 4 years

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KLAROLINE FALL BINGO PREVIEW

@eliliyah @klarolinefallbingo

Prompt: Samhain.

Samhain is a Gaelic festival marking the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter or the "darker half" of the year. Traditionally, it is celebrated from 31 October to 1 November,

Ok, disclaimer: I’m taking major, major liberties with the basic supernatural structure of the universe JP has created, I’ve bent a few rules, broken many of em and made many more, now none of these new rules or ‘revised framework’ of the world I’ve created are far too unrealistic or improbable (Like, IDK, a certain magical unicorn zombiefied-sperm baby out of an Australian werewolf joke-of-a-trope, or the redemption story arc of a thousand year old temperamental psychopathic man-child with daddy issues, but apparently c’est la vie.) these rules are perfectly consistent with each other, just somewhat inconsistent with the TVD-verse but hey that’s the entirety of TO so who’s counting anyway?

It’s a Touch Regrettable.

She's been watching him for a while now, and she's sure, he's the ripest fruit for the picking. Close enough to the ‘King’s’ second in command, far away from the ‘King’ himself.

The King of this oppressively sultry Kingdom,

Even in autumn the humidity is doing nothing for her hair.

‘Kingdom.’

She scoffs.

Honestly,

it’s a freaking city, hell it’s not even the whole city, its one half of a quarter of the city, called the French Quarter and the inhabited parts of a seemingly uninhabited Bayou, and he's pretentious enough to call himself King.

King Klaus Mikaelson, the Original Hybrid

And the Royal Family; The Mikaelson Clan.

Honestly its intrepid,

Fealty sworn by the former de-throned King Marcel Gerard

Protege of one Klaus Mikaelson,

ostentatious, short-sighted, over-confident, resident tyrannical asshole, all words she will freely use to describe said former protege

Of course that does not mean, this Klaus character is any better or fairer, but for now he's having fun playing king, but he’ll get bored, soon enough, she's certain of it,

There are no kingdoms that last centuries under one man, even if said man is allegedly invincible, Its amusing, how he mixes up immortal with invincible.

Its not the same and its definitely not interchangeable with the other.

She should know after all.

She can show him a thing or two about being truly invincible, but the price she paid for it, she doesn't think he’ll dive for it,

At least not immediately.

Absolute Infinite Power, untouchable Strength, Fortress of Protection, Inpenetrable defence, Unrelenting Offence and True Invincibility, she has it all, you know, but the price she paid....

She wonders if he’ll be willing, she certainly wasn’t.

And if he is willing, he’s an even bigger fool than she thought.

But this playing at King business, it’s fairly new to him, he's doing acceptably well so far, judging by how many whisper against him in the dark, how little proclaim in the light.

Its when the whispers die down you have to be careful, its then that they are truly discontented, because these whispers don't diminish in reciprocation of their dimished plight, no men are never satisfied, she should know.

It only hushes when they don't want the whispers to be heard, when its no longer whispers of unrest and complaint, its the whispers of planning and strike, formulated and dispersed amongst the masses, in the most still darkness and steady shadows.

where else do you think the phrase ‘calm before the storm’ came from.

But here judging by steady thrum of fairly discernible restless whispers and lack of open proclamation she can estimate a good half-century or so of relative stability, but thats only till this generation of witches and werewolves pass, the next,

Well they’ll have their own qualms and quandaries to be answered, and the Hybrid lacks the certain flexibility, she believes.

But she digresses.

She’ll get back to this Ripe fruit she's been stalking —

Ugh. Don't start. She understands she doesn't need to be told, it’s devolving of her, something as pedestrian as stalking, but its a plan, one they've created and she’ll stick to it, its after all been in the making for the last four years.

And No, she doesn't spare two circulatory cycles of air to care what that awful quote about how planning rats and planning men both fail or some similar fatalistic crap, Nope.

you Plan, Perform and Prosper. Thank you very much.

but she digresses again.

Oh yes, the thousand year old vampire she's been stalking.

His place in the Kingdom as his elder brother, the ‘King’ declares— god, she can't even begin to assert how kitschy the titles are— is that of the Royal Court Jester.

Kol Mikaelson, doesn't think its funny, but he’ll laugh and say, At least he’ll get paid for being a fool, you do it for free Nik.

Klaus is not amused, a few more barbs traded, few venom-tipped to the heart some blunt blows to the back of the head, then Elijah floats in and goes, “Children, Please.”

And then they band up together against the suit-laden gentleman, and it always somehow ends up with the conversation revolving around the ten-feet stick lodged up Elijah’s arse.

Its a soap opera and a half, if she's being honest.

and she's got a front row seat for it.

She’s been lurking you know, its not as insidious as it sounds, she drops in every once in a while, a day or two each month, unbeknownst to them of course, scouts the area, notes the changes and then leaves as she came, invisible.

She’s just invisible, like literally invisible, and she’s not detectable by magical ‘sleeping-beauty’ long lost sisters of old, Or a thousand years of acutely honed sense of instinct and awareness, alike.

Its her cloaking spell, really, its her speciality, barriers.

But the point is she's been following Kol Mikaelson, undetected, for a while now, and he's finally come to a stop, in a nondescript back alley, one of many lining the infamous Bourbon Street.

A brunette meal being drained, and there,

when his senses, even after a thousand years, are slightly hazed by the incoming pleasure, the sinful wrap of silk and honey around his tongue, the warmth of blood as it coats his throat, when his head is floating an inch above his neck in delectation.

She strikes.

A blur, a thump, and pinned,

Of course, all he sees, is well, nothing.

Once he is pressed against the wall, and starts to struggle against her, she uses her magic to hold him still, and drops the cloaking spell.

She has always relished that face, the slightly bulging eyes, parted lips and eyebrows crinkled somewhere between disoriented confusion and just startled surprise.

The astonishment in their face, she revels in it, swiping out their feet from underneath and holding the upper hand when they least expect it.

Kol doesn't stray far from that face, she holds his gaze lets him get acquainted with her cornflower blue eyes, and he snarls.

Someone’s in a tetchy mood.

She removes her forearm that was seemingly lodged across his throat, good thing he didn't notice what was actually happening there, and lets the magic keep him captive, takes a step back, and the immobilisation spell functions smoothly.

He's struggles to overcome it, usually the Originals can at least move their head around or wriggle their fingers, but she's no ordinary witch and thats no ordinary spell, it has him standing stone-still motionless, Helpless.

“Kol Mikaelson, I’m told, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” she raises her chin and regards him.

There’s that Mikaelson Calculation in his eyes, he wont underestimate her, she's sure.

He himself is underestimated far too often to be hypocritical enough to repeat the same mistake. He's drawn his conclusion she can see,

‘A marginally powerful witch with a death sentence as of this moment.’

Or some variation of that,

Good, she needs him to believe her a witch, she after all has kept her second face neatly tucked in concealed. A shadow within a shadow.

Either way she allows him enough movement to control his mouth and eyes, he promptly takes use of it.

“Believe me darling, the pleasure will be all mine, momentarily.” He says with a genial smile, the posture would've been nonchalant if only he had control over his own body. His eyes though sing an entirely different song,

He makes a show of looking around as if expecting someone to swoop in and incapacitate her, as if he's waiting for the right moment to strike.

All an act really, she's thorough he should know that, she knows he left the ‘Abattoir’ (like she said, pretentious) alone.

A spat with his brother the ‘King’, something about his maiden witch love, Davina not being the King’s personal magician, and to treat her with the same respect he extends to his family, which if you ask her, is like two steps away from nonexistent so she honestly has no idea why the younger Mikaelson even tries, but she resists judgement and gets to the point, she knows no one was following him and he had stormed out in need for more pliant outlets of frustration AKA the barely breathing slumped body on the side of the alley he was just draining.

So she tells him exactly that,

“Now, we wont be interrupted here, I'm sure, you can drop the ‘I’ve got backup arriving any moment now’ act. I'm here to talk business.”

He regards her now, calculation still evident.

“Assertive little thing aren’t you? But surely as a business partner of yours I can be spared your name also I never thought I’d say this but I don’t particularly care for this impromptu bondage situation we’ve got going on, so if you could let me down, gently darling, it’ll be much appreciated, and we can proceed right along to our businessy particulars.”

And cue nasty once-over of her person,

he’s appreciative, she knows.

“Who said anything about being partners, you're role in this business, is well simple, you will deliver a message to your brother, the self-crowned King of New Orleans.”

Oh he's pissed now, she can see.

Not even getting assaulted in a back alley can stray from doing something with almighty Nik.

“Now darling you're mistaken, I’m not the beloved King’s messenger—“

“No you're his court Jester, or so he declared, but I was hoping you'd grasp at an opportunity for a sizeable promotion, as a messenger, now at least people will pay heed to what you actually have to say, instead of searching for a punchline in every sentence.”

Ah there’s that face of surprise again, she really really likes that one, but of course the Original truly barely even reacts, its a faint raising of the left eyebrow, he's still nonchalant enough everywhere else, but his surprise is not lost on her.

That particular conversation where Kol was dubbed the Royal Fool of His Majesty’s court was an especially private one, both brothers were having a moment of bonding, deep within the recesses of the Compound,

with sage burning.

He's even more vigilant now, but she wont reveal anymore of her cards.

“Now as I was saying, a message to your brother, if you will, tell him;

On the day of Samhain when the full moon is at its apex, we will arrive at the abattoir, tell him to gather his men close and his family closer, we will arrive bearing a lost token of centuries past belonging to the Mikaelson Name. One of grave importance, Should he choose to neglect my message, tell him regret will eat away at the very marrow of his bones, of that I am sure. After all a chance like this appears only once in a millennium.”

He looked amused, and probably relishing in the idea of a joint slaughter with his siblings, once she arrives at the family compound.

but he's intrigued nonetheless.

He's impressed by her strength but she hasn't left an impression yet.

Well then she's just going to have to impress upon him.

Not giving him a chance to acquiesce on her request, which he's just going to have to do, whether he likes it or not.

“And as for my name, you’ll carry it back in my stead.”

She takes a step forward places her hand an inch away from the skin of his forearm that was held away from his body to her behest, and lets her magic flow,

Her name is carved into his arm, just Caroline,

she doesn't have a family name.

Slowly and steadily, every dip and every loop in curving perfection of cursive calligraphy.

He barely winces in reaction, but there, there’s her impression,

Yes she's aware its horribly unimaginative, but she's pragmatic not poetic.

A drop of blood trickles down his arm and lands on the rough concrete,

now that drop of blood, she can touch, and discreetly places her feet on top of it, she's barefoot and if he noticed he didn't think much of it, contact with that one drop of blood from his arm is enough for her to drain his ability to heal over her carved name, and there it remains engraved on his forearm the blood ceaselessly flowing, its obvious he's waiting for the wound to close,

Too bad for him, it wont until she says so.

He notices the anomaly and tries to look down at it but he's immobilised,

looking at her name one last time still gaping and open,

“Be sure to relay my message for me, Thank you.”

She presents him a sunny smile,

He clearly wants to regale her with the gory gruesome tales of every witch, vampire, werewolf and unicorn that has wronged the Mikaelson Family and have endured centuries of regret and retribution, but she's taken his ability speak away, so his eyes bulge in protest and just like that,

she's gone,

Invisible, untouchable again

——————————————————————————-

Its awfully fanciful he thinks, this Caroline women,

Laughable really,

Struts into his kingdom, attacks his brother and proceeds to demand his attendance in his residence.

How delightfully ambitious,

Veritably on The Night of Samhain, the hailing of the darker quarter of the year, a winter’s plea for survival, the auspicious night the souls of dead loved ones revisit their homes seeking hospitality, such thespian antics, she's surely amused him.

However a lost token belonging to the Mikaelson Family, now he's sure its one banal talisman or another, belonging to Esther or Dahlia or even Freya, that the witch happened upon and believes is of great import to the family,

A hopeful barter perhaps is her motivation, a page of the original grimoire, or mayhap Freya’s assistance in a spell, tedious witchy interference, not his forte if he’s being honest, and emphatically not of his interest either.

But the fact that she held Kol immobile for a slightly extended amount of time is yet to be properly examined, the harvest witches of New Orleans were able to do so, he has a first hand experience of it after all, the woman who dared, died of a thousand cuts, not that anybody would care.

but this latest parvenue loitering about his territory, well she was, at the end of the day, a lone witch with plausibly, a flair for the arts of the theatrical sorts, a drama major, he's sure of it.

but what truly demands his attention is her valiant effort to dictate and predict his emotion, its— pardon him but—its adorable.

The intensity with which she predicts his regret, it tickles him, love.

Regret,

such an alienated emotion, second only to love of the non-familial kind.

But nevertheless witch, its his emotions. After all, its his albatross on his neck.

He hasn't felt true regret that “eats away at the very marrow of his bones”, since that fateful night one thousand years ago, the impetus happenstance, the true tragedy of the Mikaelson name.

“The wolves, Nik, I want to see them turn big brother,”

He silences his mind and his bickering family with a derisive snort,

“Well fanciful isn't she, no matter, this newest upstart couldn't have arrived at a better time, I had half a mind to turn come next full moon, the recent bout of monotony is dreadfully stifling.”

He pauses for his family’s concurrence on the last statement,

He doesn't get it, He continues unaffected,

“Well then Kol, you are absolved of your duties as the Court’s Licensed Fool on the eve of Samhain, it looks like our night’s entertainment has already been booked.”

He swipes at the name still carved on his little brother’s arm, profusely bleeding still, now this— this was somewhat disconcerting, but he wouldn't worry his head about it, he’ll have this arriviste witch sort it out soon enough if Freya fails in her intervention.

He looks at the name one last time, picks up his sketch pad and walks out the room.

“Little miss Caroline should hope she delivers, after all she’ll be hosting a full house and a tough crowd.”

——————————————————————————-

Its the day before the Night of Samhain, and she looks at the only person she will ever touch with joy and comfort in her heart, she looks at the only person she's in contact with who she hasn't wrecked so thoroughly their soul isn’t vanquished.

His dark hair is neatly cut and styled in the way young men of his age prefer, and he's wearing a full sleeves maroon knit sweater in accordance to the fall climate and black jeans covers his long lanky legs, she remembers distinctly, this is one of the first sweaters he ever bought, on one of the many shopping sprees they both embarked on for the last year or so, he bought it last winter and the shoulders are already too tight,

She feels this bone deep sense of sorrow spread from her toes up her legs all the way till the tip of her nose, stopping just below her eyes,

Because how on earth can she possibly have eyes filled with anything other than this overwhelming feeling of belonging, let alone sorrow, when she’s gazing at her little pumpkin playing the guitar, sitting there strumming idly.

God she’s so sad, it’s insulting.

When was the last time she gave herself the impression that her life was anything but a garden of milk-sweet Mongolias, honey soaked lilies, chrysanthemums and hesistant smatterings of poppies, a cobblestoned path lining the borders and meandering away in between the sweet scents of orange blossoms and jasmine oil that permeates the air, and maybe the only weeping part of the whole scenery would've been a weeping willow bending its head down, in atlas’s humility, to lightly caress the crystal blue lake sprawling in the centre of it all.

She’s not delusional, she knows her...condition of existence is—gutting for the soul.

but this, this impending departure of her campanion, is making her miserable, she’s experiencing the pain with a bird’s eye view, its so hard, its making her stateless.

And it’s not even the perpetual state of detached lonely, slightly agitated, melancholy she’s accustomed to in the deepest darkest receded pits of her heart, no,

This one stands out, like a beacon of hurt. Like a sudden splash of crimson blood, clawing its way to the surface from the bottom, spreading and swirling in her pristine azure lake.

Her heart, it doesn't constrict in her chest, like all the novels tell her it should when great dialogues of unfettered grief is narrated,

No, instead she actually can feel it expand, expand and knock against the inside of her sternum with every beat, she can feel it trying to expand past her chest and just swell, bigger and bigger in hopes that someway, just somehow it will widen enough to just engulf this human in front of her and keep him there and never, ever let go. to make enough space for him and give him everything he wants and protect and cherish him like the brother she never had, or maybe she did, she cant really remember.

But she wants it to just expand and take, but all it does is blow up, burst and bleed.

Her little human of course can see her plight viscerally play out in her eyes, he’s even learnt her tells, god when was the last time someone knew the difference between her

‘I’m lost in the memories of my past I don’t have’ face

And her

‘I’m lost in glimpses of the future I can’t have’ face.

Oh yes, never,

but her perceptive little pumpkin knows,

And God it hurts.

She knows she’s going to loose him, she’s not naive enough to think she’ll be able to have any claim over him or his affection in just 24 hours.

And she wants to be selfish you know, some godforsaken part of her wants to remove his memories and keep him with her, as his only family and protector, but she won’t.

She knows,

she can’t, she will never put him through the pain she felt 400 years ago when she finally woke up from her sleep. Disoriented, confused, scared and so, so alone.

But after 400 years of a wide blanket of solitude,

nope that’s not the word

400 hundred years of unceasing loneliness, yes.

—She’s dramatic, she gets it, no need to point that out—

She finally, finally found someone she could be close with, in every sense of the word, someone who stayed, someone who didn’t die on her or someone she didn't kill unwittingly, someone who looked at her condition and didn't think, ‘No, you're too risky for me.’

God, she’d give her life for this floundering guitarist in front of her, a thousand times over, she’d do it with a smile on her face, and he knows, and he accepts her devotion, her loyalty, her companionship, and he offers his own,

When was the last time this happened,

She supposes it was with Bonnaventura Benettini during her Italian escapades in the 1820’s. She was with her for 50 years, watched her grow and age, wrinkle and stutter, watched her bones hollow and creak against one another, watched her spine get softer and the steel in it only strengthen, her Bonnie.

But she too left,

Yet this little human, she can make him immortal, she knows she can, he can spend eternity with her, and he'd choose to too, he told her himself, but,

He’ll be gone tomorrow, sacrificed to the Mikaelsons.

“Caro, if you frown any harder, you’ll be stuck with a face like that Grinch guy, maybe not as green, but you do look a bit pale,”

He rises from his perch near the french windows the soft light of a nearly full moon flooding the loft, and saunters towards her,

Yes, saunter, because how else will a budding young man his age move.

He sits down right next to her, thighs touching and now her heart constricts, he intertwines their hands and locks their fingers together, her heart stutters,

God, such a trite commonplace act, and for her, a fist in her soul, the sun shines only a bit brighter, and the moon only a tiny bit bigger, how long and by how many she was denied this... Privilege, to just hold, to just connect.

She falls back on the arm of the settee and he follows suit placing his head just below her chin, their interlocked fingers laid on her stomach, she drops a kiss on the top of his head and she swears she hears the sound of ripping, she's trying to figure out if it was her heart or her soul that made it when,

“You know I wont leave you, yes? No matter what happens tomorrow, I swear it Caro,”

“Sleep pumpkin, it’s getting late, we’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”

And she thinks, thats all they're going to get, a whole day.

TBC

#klarolinefallbingo #klaroline fanfiction #otp: caroline i’m not you’re british muffin #otp: i shot him and now he thinks we’re engaged #otp: caroline my love #klaroline fic #klaroline drabbles #klaroline event #strong ageless fearless #klaus mikaelson #alternate universe #writing #preview #alternate first time meeting #first time writing klaus’ POV so be gentle #fanfic

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