It seems like 'The Revenge of Klayley sex' occurred and we were bombarded with about 40 smut requests – I'm not kidding lol. So I combined four requests in a behemoth sex drabble, Forgive me for what you're about to read, but it's basically smut and nada mas.

It was turning into some of the most trying, frustrating and agonizing days of her life. The Salvatore's fancy water filters granting her a good hot shower everyday were not worth the pain she had to endure by living here. She didn't know how delicate things were when you lived with three vampires. They could smell everything; hear everything – no matter how soft her voice might be. She was at her wits end; cursing everyone and their relatives for putting her in this embarrassing situation.

She couldn't bear the identical smirks on Damon and Elena's faces, or Stefan's furrowed brow and condescending head shake. The last time such incidents had occurred – right after the Mystic Falls Pageant – she had been living with her mother, who, in her blissfully human state had no knowledge of her daughter's… incidents.

It was all Elena's fault really, and Caroline planned on putting all the blame on her; it was much easier than accepting her feelings. But ever since the newly turned-newly bitched up vampire had jibed about Caroline's dirty little thoughts about a certain dimpled, accented hybrid; Caroline had noticed a sudden and resilient surge in the quantity and intensity of said dirty little thoughts.

And the vividness and randomness of the incidents were growing at such a frightening pace that they left her almost as flustered as the incidents themselves.

What are these incidents you ask?

Well, scandalous sex dreams of course.

Exhibit A.

She didn't know why she was tired. But she was tired, absolutely exhausted, that was for certain. The hot spurts of water burned on her bare back as she bent her head, letting the water cascade from the nape of her neck to her ankles. She needed a pick-me-up; alcohol hadn't worked, she was hoping a hot shower and warm bag of B+ would help her relax.

And just then the shower door slid open, and she felt a stern yet gentle hand curl around her neck. Her gasp was lost in her throat when her eyes fell on the person stepping into her shower. A part of her brain screaming at her to run, hide and scream for help; the other turning into a puddle of goo at the heated look Klaus was directing her way. The rational, good, loyal side of her brain always won out in such situations. But this felt like a crossroads, like that ultimate twist in a long, drawn out novel; where everything turned upside down and completely changed the path of the story. She could feel the irrational, emotion and lust driven part of her brain win this battle.

And if her backing up against the wall, twisting her fingers in his hair wasn't an indication of the same, then her soft whimper as his other hand moved to rest on her waist, was a definite giveaway. A moan of frustration rumbled in the pits of her stomach at the inane need to kiss him, his fingers lightly stroking her neck and hips doing nothing to deter her need. And he was going to draw it out. If his smirk was anything to go by, and it was always a sign of his inner mind; a teasing devil or a murdering devil. Both ways he was the devil.

Something in her propelled her forward - probably the ache beginning to spread between her thighs – as she pulled his head down simultaneously and captured his lips with hers. It was all teeth and tongue and fighting for control, one which Klaus won in the end. As he was always going to. She could literally see the lust driven side of her brain trample all over her rational, goody-two-shoes side. The moan finally erupting from her as she dug her nails into his back, yanking him closer to her body, desperation laced in every sigh and gasp from her lips. Her breath ragged against the junction of Klaus' shoulder, she lifted her leg and hitched it on his hip, cursing his fingers that trailed up and down her wet thigh, but never venturing near where she really wanted them. She could feel him chuckle in her ear as he placed a light kiss on the underside of her ear, licking and sucking a trail over her throat, before he ghosted over her lips again.

In a flash, her entire body was whirled around, her face and torso pressed against the cool tiles, her nipples hardening impossibly at this. She braced herself against the wall, her palms flat on the cool surface as Klaus gripped her hips, pushing them back against his hard cock. And then he stilled, fingers lightly tapping against the heated skin of her bottom. She knew he was waiting for her to beg and cry for it, but no words came to her, or she would have done exactly as he wished. Instead she mewled in desperation, jutting her butt out and grinding it against his erection. The growl that escaped him was positively feral, his hand coming up to tangle in her wet curls as he yanked her head back and delved into her, filling her up to the hilt. His thrusts were merciless and her moans were uncontrollable, echoing around the small, enclosed area, turning them on even more. Her nails drew blood on his arm that was wrapped around her waist, fondling her breast, as his blunt, human teeth greedily marked her neck.

And she wondered why she had never let the irrational part of her brain win.

She woke up screaming something along the lines of 'Klaus please', 'Klaus harder', and groaned in frustration at not being able to finish. Stefan had not been amused. Damon was though, he was veryvery amused. And he made it a point to mimic her groan when she had been pulled from her dream when he walked past her.

Still don't get it?

Here have this.

Exhibit B.

She was positively livid. This was just cruel - massacring little children, genocide- ing away a bloodline, eating cute bunnies, burning women at the stake - cruel. The table all but shook under the duress of her prolonged groan; clearly letting her displeasure about her current position be known. She was laying naked, spread eagle on the table; back arched, dusky, pink nipples erect, lips pursed, eyes scrunched shut, hips bucking in anticipation and nails grating against the wood as a tactic to vent her frustration. One that didn't work.

And all the while Klaus stood between her legs, fully clothed, decked impeccably in his tailored suit and tie, while her dress lay tattered by the sofa. Hooking her legs around his waist, he tantalizingly ran his hands up and down her pale thighs, caressing and squeezing in intervals, his eyes darkening as he enjoyed the view of her steadily leaking quim and gyrating hips in triumph. A coy smile forming on his face as she placed one of her hands over his, forcefully trying to move it to her core. But he was stronger, and resisted, thoroughly enjoying the disgruntled look on her face as she squirmed and rubbed her ass against the table, silently begging him to fuck her. And he planned do to exactly that, but not without driving her a little crazy.

She seethed in anger at his adamant refusal to take off his clothes as she lifted herself off the table, and attempted to claw at them. But it was not to be, as he shoved her onto her back; running his hand down her neck, in between her breasts, over her abdomen and finally, finally to the junction between her thighs. Her back arched into the air the moment his fingers slipped between her wet lips, teasing at first and then rubbing in rhythm with the bucking of her hips, sliding two fingers inside her tight walls as she fucked his fingers with gusto. But he was done watching. Simpering at her wail when he retracted his fingers, Klaus unbuckled his belt, unzipping his fly and letting his pants loop around his hips, as he pulled Caroline to the edge of the table. Her hips just over the edge of the table, her legs spread wide; he positioned the engorged head of his cock at her entrance, teasingly running the tip over her outer lips, grasping at any chance to torture her.

Unexpectedly, he pushed into her, stretching her brutally, pounding in and out at an animalistic pace, his balls slapping against her ass with ever thrust. Their coupling was hard and rough, filled with grunts and groans and the sound of the table rocking against the floor. Her hands curled by her thighs as he pounded into her, and just as she was about to come…

She woke up.

Her ire had known no bounds, nor had her temporary roommates distaste waned after this latest incident. Having had enough, she'd decided to move back home – showers be damned. At least here, she finally accepted, she could enjoy her incidents without the hindrance of three pairs of supernatural ears and noses.

And here, finally, she could get her much needed release.

And in case you still haven't gotten it.

Here take one more.

Exhibit C.

It was a scene straight out of a cliché, badly written, badly directed, teen movie. Seated way in the back of an old movie, which, no more than 7 people had come to watch (four of whom were participating in a similar cliché activity), Caroline gripped the arm rest of her seat, her nails digging into the torn leather cover as she attempted, in vain, to control her need to mewl out loudly. Klaus, completing the cliché scenario, was sitting next to her, a jubilant smirk on his face and his hand under her skirt, ruthlessly rubbing her over her soaked underwear. She was reeling inertly; controlling the urge to ride his fingers and rip off her panties so he could touch her wet lips.

But he was quite enjoying watching her wiggle around in her seat, as she bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, muttering under her breath and raising her hips accordingly to position his fingers where she wanted them. There was no hope for her to suppress the moan when he caught her swollen clit between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and rubbing it. She had to bring up one hand to clasp it over her mouth, when his middle finger teased her slit. First stroking the opening relentlessly, not dipping his finger inside but simply grazing his finger from one end to the other, the feel of the rough material of her panties sending a delicious wave of lust through her body.

Finally, motherfucking finally, Klaus shrugged her panties to one side and slipped his middle finger inside her, chuckling at the mixed expression of relief and annoyance that crossed her face. Her hand fell from her mouth to form a death grip over his wrist, on the hand that was buried between her legs, pushing his hand against her core harder, both actions causing Klaus to cackle inertly. Taking a little mercy on her, he added his forefinger as well, pumping in and out of her with two fingers and rubbing her clit with his thumb, driving her absolutely mad. Thankful for the fact that their seats were in the corner back row – where no one could see unless they were trying to – she involuntarily began to rock her hips against his fingers, moving up and down in tandem with them.

But he was intent on drawing out her pleasure. And she was intent on finding her release this time. So she turned to him, moving her hips to one side, whimpering at the new angle his fingers entered her walls and placed her hand on the steadily growing front of his jeans, cupping the bulge and squeezing it lightly. Momentarily stupefied, Klaus reared his head back, his fingers instantly moving faster just as she stroked his erection over his jeans, a ghost of a smirk creeping up over her panting lips. But he took the control back just as he felt her slip her hand under his belt buckle, forcing her to…

Wake up.

She knew he was in the room the second she opened her eyes. She now knew the origin of all her dreams the past week, Klaus had been giving them to her. Taking her to the edge of madness and then shoving her back into reality, leaving her empty and aching. Leaving her no choice other than to confront her feelings, face reality and accept that she didn't hate and despise him as much as she hoped she did. And she wished to hate him with all her heart. She wished his cocky smirk didn't make her lips twitch into a smile, she wished his hoarse voice didn't make her cross her legs in earnest; she wished his silken words didn't make her heart yearn for them and she wished his promises didn't tempt her so. But they did. All of her craved him, and now he knew it.

He was on her in an instant, his large callous hands kneading her sides as he pressed his body over hers. The hard, masculine planes of his body sliding over her soft, feminine curves perfectly. Her hands moved off their own accord, trailing over his back and taking his thin cotton t-shirt with it, and that was all signs of willingness he needed from her. He knew he wouldn't get any grand declarations of her desire, and he didn't want them either – their style was embedded in subtlety, not in extravagant gestures. He didn't need her to say anything as long as he knew she felt it.

The musky scent of her arousal was thick in the air, no longer embarrassed by it nor her ache to feel him; she hitched her thing nightdress on her hips, revealing her ruined underwear, one which Klaus got rid of in a flash. Her hips bucked against his palm, her back arching off the bed as a pained wail ripped out of her, her lungs fighting for air and her brain fighting for a thought other than 'more'. Their need was primal, the slick wetness between her thighs coating his fingers, drawing a growl from him as he sprung his erection free from its restraints. Her nightdress was reduced to a heaped bundle around her waist, bearing her heaving breasts to his hungry gaze as he bent his head to capture a hard peak in his mouth, twisting and soothing it with his teeth and tongue.

She tugged on his head unexpectedly, startling him into letting go of her nipple as she pulled his face towards her, slanting her lips over his, prodding the roof of his mouth with her tongue as he slipped two fingers inside her quim. She'd be damned if she didn't get a kiss out of him before he fucked her senseless. Their breathing ragged, skin sizzling in anticipation and eyes locked in a staring contest; he finally slipped the head of his cock through her inner lips, stretching her inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her. He never once allowed her to turn away as he entered her, adamant on seeing her face as he filled her up.

From then on it was a mess of limbs rocking frantically, the sound of slapping flesh and moans filling the room as he claimed her as his, marking every inch of her body – inside and out. And this time, when he finally allowed her to come, she did so with such brute power that it almost left him boneless, drawing his own orgasm from him by the sheer intensity of hers.

And as she lay curled up against his sweat slicked chest, she decided to no longer hide her desires in the recesses of her mind. Instead, proudly wore the marks of his teeth and hands on her body, sporting them like a precious beauty spot. As she sat in history class, legs crossing and uncrossing, her mind spinning with the remnants of his hands, mouth and body, she let her friends smell, hear and see, that she no longer dreamt what she wanted, she took what she wanted.

Prompt – Klaroline wedding day.

This is AU/AH and set in the past.

Caroline has imagined this day since she was a little girl. And all her dreams were coming true. Her dress is exquisite; all white and lace and grace, it flows over her petite body, and combined with her golden hair it makes her look like an angel. Her mother positively beamed in joy, soft tears streaming down her face at the sight of her little girl – who wasn't so little anymore. Her father even got misty eyed when he first saw her in her dress, and lightly kissed the back of her head before walking out. The wedding venue was perfect, the food, the flowers, the sights and smells. Everything was exactly as she had imagined.

Except one thing.

Her groom was faceless. She has never seen his face. The first time Caroline will see her future husband would be as he stood at the altar, where he awaits her arrival. All she knew was that his name was Klaus Mikaelson. And that her father owed his father a great debt. And that debt was to be re-payed in the form of her marriage to his son. Her father assured her that Mikael was being merciful towards them, for no man would forego such a large amount of money, but he was showing them generosity. Sacrificing the money they owed him in exchange for a wife for his nefarious son, hoping to tame him and continue his bloodline.

Caroline doesn't like it, and she was adamant to not pretend otherwise. But she would go through with it; she would sacrifice her dream of love to keep a roof above her parents head. She had always dreamed of marrying for love – she was in a way, she was marrying for the love of her parents and family, but not for the love she held for her betrothed.

She exhales deeply as she smoothes her dress over her mid-section; straightening imaginary creases in a vain attempt to suppress her growing anxiety. Any minute now her father and Elena would enter her chambers, announcing that it was time for the wedding to begin, and that it was time for her to give away her life. She controls the tears that burn her eyes and the anguish that creeps up her throat; she will not cry, she is resigned to her fate, and she will be strong come what may. But she hopes with every fiber of her being that God will bestow some mercy on her; that her husband wouldn't be a horrible man. She doesn't expect love, no she had foregone that childish dream, she only hopes that he treat her with respect and show her loyalty. That is all she can hope for from such an arrangement.

The massive double doors of the bride's chamber creak open, and she closes her eyes to collect herself before opening them slowly, readying herself for her new life. Her eyes widen as she takes in the strange man behind her. His dirty blonde curls and piercing blue-green eyes make her inhale sharply. She continues to appraise him through the mirror as he steps inside and closes the door. And then her eyes latch onto his, and she can't help but reflect on how beautiful they are. From here they look more blue than green, but something tells that from up-close they'd be the same shade as the sea.

Carefully, and running another swipe across her flawless dress she turns around to face him. A sudden surge of self-consciousness passes over her as she notices the way his eyes roam over her form. Almost appreciatively, he looks at her from tip to toe; taking in every inch of her body and she feels a wave of heat pass over her at his wandering gaze.

"Who are you?" she manages to ask, raising her arms to cover her modestly covered chest, the dress shows much more skin than she's used to, but her mother assures her she looks beautiful. And she can't quite reject the dress given to her by her own betrothed now can she?

The man smiles and finally speaks and her breath hitches when she notices two dimples form on his gruff cheeks, "I'm Klaus Mikaelson."

Her mouth widens in disbelief and she instantly starts to shake her head, her curls bouncing around her face, "You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding," she hisses, taking two steps away from him.

He laughs and it makes her shiver in her skin, "I think we can be an exception, love" he says with raised brows and then she sees the mischief in his eyes that everyone talks about, she can tell that this man is nothing but trouble, and she has to live her entire life with him.

"I thought it only fair that you at least get to see the man you're marrying before you… marry him," he states, swaying on his feet slightly as he winds his hands behind his back.

"Or you wanted to see the woman you're marrying," she jibes, a little more venomously than she intends. She looks up at him with rising fear, expecting that nefarious behavior to shine through, but he surprises her when he smirks and lets out an amused chuckle.

"I apologize," she hums under her breath and he walks a few steps closer to her, and stops when he's just a feet from her.

At that moment, she has to admit that Klaus is easy on the eyes. He is most definitely one of the most handsome men she has ever seen, and standing so close to her - he takes her breath away. But his rather attractive appearance does nothing to soothe her fears, he may be handsome but that's even more reason for him to be a vile man.

She brings her attention back to him when he speaks again, "I know none of want this. You're marrying me to stop your family from ending up on the streets, and I'm marrying you to stop my father from disowning me."

The callous manner in which he refers to their situation - their marriage, their lives – brings those tears to bay that she had been holding back for a while. But she doesn't look away from his eyes; she will not let herself be weak ahead of this man.

"I cannot promise you love, Caroline," Klaus says, his tone so many shades softer than before, and she can't help but admire the way her name rolls off his tongue. He notices the way her brows furrow at his words and hesitantly adds, "Not yet. I-I don't know you, and you don't know me."

"So, I cannot promise you love," he repeats and finally a lone tear slides down her cheek as he concludes, "But I can promise you that I will be a good husband. As good as I can be, I will try."

He is as resigned to his fate as she is; he foregoes his life of debauchery and mayhem to keep his claim on his father's money. But just like her – he's trying. And in such a situation, what more can one ask for?

She smiles and nods her head; a real, true, genuine smile forms for the first time that day as a small laugh escapes her. It isn't much of a promise, but it's a start.

He returns her smile, and she's graced with the presence of those dimples again as he leans forward and runs his knuckles over her damp cheek, retracing the path of her tear with his fingers. His touch burns her straight to her soul and she feels cold and empty when he backs away and makes his way to the door, bidding her goodbye with a curt nod.

He stands by the door and turns to smile at her one last time before she becomes his wife. And that smile holds more promises than any word ever could have.

As Caroline turns around and takes a deep breath, ready to go out there and get married, a smile forms on her face, a smile that doesn't leave her for the rest of the day and night, as she thinks – maybe this arranged marriage wouldn't be as bad as she imagined.

A/N- Drop me review if you wish!