I absolutely NEED a one shot where klaus like always gets a hard 0n when Yn around or he thinks of her
His family teases him and Yn doesn’t have clue about his crush on her
Helpless
Klaus couldn't help the way his body reacted to her.
It wasn't his fault that she was always so perfect.
In fact, Klaus blamed Rebekah.
She had been the one to befriend Y/N, they met at Mystical Falls High School when Rebekah tried out for the cheerleaders. Caroline had been salty about it but Y/N was happy to invite new people in.
Rebekah took a liking to her in an instant and ended up inviting her round.
That's how Klaus met her.
Finding an unknown girl stood in his kitchen in only a tiny little skort and what could barely be called a top.
Y/N only smiled at him and introduced herself as Rebekah's friend.
The idea of his younger sister making a friend so easily would have amused him but his thoughts had quickly ran away from him as he took her in.
His viewing was cut short when Rebekah shoved him out the way.
"Sorry Y/N, that's Nik." She mumbled as she opened the cupboard to look for something for Y/N to eat. "Damn. We'll have to order something, come on." She shrugged and grabbed Y/N's hand, pulling her back upstairs.
Y/N was over often and Klaus had become accustomed to seeing her in her cheer outfit but that didn't mean he didn't feel anything.
Rebekah had only noticed it when she saw him pull a pillow over his lap part way through a movie.
She knew that Klaus had a little crush on Y/N, that wasn't hard to realise with how often he looked at her and how easily his lips upturned in her presence but realising the extent made her smirk.
Rebekah would start 'lending' clothes to Y/N the day after a sleepover, having her dress in tight little shorts and tube tops. Convincing her that she didn't need to wear a bra round the house.
Klaus was almost drooling.
His fingers dug into the couch when she sat beside him after Rebekah had spread herself out across the other sofa. Klaus was too focused on not staring at Y/N's nipples to notice Rebekah's obvious game play.
When it had gotten late and Y/N started getting tired but the film wasn't finished Rebekah decided to push it.
"You can always lay down. Nik doesn't mind, he even has a pillow. Just rest on his lap." Her words sounded to passive and innocent that Y/N just glanced to Klaus who, no matter how badly he knew he should've said no, nodded his head and adjusted the pillow.
Before he knew it his fingers were stroking her hair, his hips desperately holding back when she made small sounds on contempt.
Once she was asleep he couldn't help but touch her face, trace each feature. Bekah had gone to the bathroom, leaving him alone with her and his thoughts. He couldn't help but stroke her bottom lip with his thumb. As soon as he heard the door shut his hands were pulled away and he was sat back against the cushions but Rebekah knew what he wanted.
She started having lollipops on hand, always having one to give to Y/N.
Klaus was losing it.
Once or twice she'd forgotten to finish her lolly, leaving it somewhere by accident. Klaus would end up licking her taste fresh from it, his eyes closing as he sucked her flavour down.
He could just about restrain himself from acting on his feelings.
Until all his other siblings were woken and also caught onto the situation.
Kol would shamelessly flirt with Y/N, purposefully trying to make Klaus flip out.
Even Elijah had picked up on it. He'd clear his throat and glance Klaus down, reminding his brother to cover his arousal with an amused smile on his face when Niklaus would go a beat red and pull a pillow over himself again.
Kol had started calling it his 'problem pillow'.
Rebekah was subtle but Kol? Brutal.
"Don't tell me Nik's cum on his pillow again!" He'd call loud enough that it made Klaus shoot up out of his seat in panic that Y/N had heard but not quite loud enough that it would travel up the stairs to where Y/N actually was.
"Someone's in a sticky situation-" He'd jest before a book was lobbed at his head.
"You know Y/N if you're feeling stressed, I'm positive Nik would pound it out of you." He'd grin but Y/N didn't get it; thank god.
Klaus would shove Kol out the room, out the house sometimes and storm up the stairs.
Was it embarrassing? Of course.
Was it hilarious for the others? Obviously.
Once Y/N figured it out and joined in on the teasing it was too much to bare.
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An image which really, should need no caption. Every detail is stark, cruel, immediately clear.
The thick, suffocating puffer suit in the glass box in the summer sun against the breathable office wear.
The sticky, crawling sweat, the gagged mouth against the clink of ice in the cup, the beads of condensation which drip.
The keys which jingle when she moves, useless to her yoked hands, clinking with each movement, just near enough that she can brush the key-ring with her fingertips if she strains and strains.
Why is she in the box? A punishment? Perhaps. She has done nothing wrong, she knows she has, but to them it makes no difference. Perhaps the other is the real culprit, here to rub it in. Sweet, gloating mockery.
She stares at the drink, but the woman (perhaps the real culprit), only smiles.
"Still haven't unlocked yourself? Silly girl."
"Mmmmmf!"
"Hot, isn't it?" She takes out a silken kerchief, wipes at the sweat between her breasts, lets out a satisfied sigh.
"Nnnnnnnmmmmgh!!!!" The maddening itch between her breasts has never gone away since the day they put her in the suit, though they'd said it was 'self-cleaning'.
"Sorry, dear, couldn't quite catch that." She giggles, a light, mocking sound, brings the cup right up to the glass.
Slow, sticky dripping of sweat. Please. Just a sip, even a drop, of cold water, of ice-cold condensation.
The woman swirls the cup, letting her hear every lovely clink of ice against ice, takes a long sip. A drop of sweat crawls, and another. A furious, gagged sound. The woman laughs, does it again.
Adorable little French girl gets flustered so badly by tickle torture that she reflexively starts begging in her mother tongue. Realising how embarassed she is by this, her tormentors order her to beg in French.
She tries to resist but quickly breaks under their torture -- her mother tongue, that language that has become so private to her while she's strapped down and helpless in this foreign country, becomes just one more piece of her dignity to be offered up in her desperation 🌸
*
from the video 'little French girl tickle' by the studio 'Bleufetish'
"Look at the shadows, Pauline, aren't they pretty?"
"Mmmmph."
He goes over to the window, and she follows his slippered footsteps, her boots clacking noisily on the floor. She hears the window open, but the inside of the suit is as hot and sticky as ever.
"Lovely breeze today. Isnt't the sunset pretty?"
"H, hmmph, mmmmgh."
"Shall we go to the night market for dinner? I'm craving skewers and a nice milkshake."
"Mmmmmmmph." Breathing heavily, she tugs at the tight collar, at the locks sealing the corset and hood and gag in place, slowly, the only outward sign that she is even now seething with pent-up rage. As usual, nothing gives, nothing so much as shifts to give her a little fresh air, a little space to breathe in the sweaty itchy dark.
"Want out?" Edward plays on her vexation, goads her further.
"Mmmmmmph. Mmmph-mm."
"Sounds like a 'no' to me."
"Mmmmmmph." Quiet, firm, with no sign that she is trying desperately not to explode with fury.
"Oh well. More kebabs for me!" He takes the short leash, and locks it to the ring in her collar, pulling her along far faster than she can comfortably walk with her blindfold. Not that he cares. Not that she has a choice. Not that she can even protest into the gag, deeply and horribly familiar with the punishment which he would mete out for even the smallest sign of rebellion.
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Protestors set up a memorial for Renee Good, the mother of three and U.S. Citizen who was shot three times in the face by ICE. ICE responded by stomping on the memorial candles.
