#After The Lamb Bites Back | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rapturously · 1 month ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

┊ count orlok x fem!reader.

✠⠀༷ ゜ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: intended to be a sacrifice for the strigoi haunting your village, your escape brings you face-to-face with death incarnate.

read part 2 here.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, dubious consent (mild hypnosis/dreamlike state), loss of virginity, monsterfucking, vampire antics (scent kink, bloodplay), stockholm syndrome, mild title kink (heavy use of my lord), shadow sex/fingering, female masturbation, voyeurism, extreme possessive/obsessive behavior.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is arguably the most enjoyment I’ve had writing a fic in a long time. I really hope that you love it as much as I loved writing it! any support is greatly appreciated! I would absolutely love to write more Count Orlok after this, for sure!

ICE-LADEN GALES NIPPED AT BARE FLESH, LIKE THE COLD PRICK OF A KNIFE — ONLY TENFOLD. ROPE CHAFED RAGGED AGAINST SOFT SKIN, AND YOUR FEET SEEMED TO CARRY YOU FAR AWAY, INTO THE DESOLATE HILLSIDES OF TRANSYLVANIA.

A sacrifice — a sweet, mourning lamb, given to the butcher, bound together to keep the darkness from devouring your village. That was what you were, some pious creature to be torn apart by a wolf that prowled through shadow.

Only the cruor of a virgin would expunge the evil that lay within the mountains, your blood, offered to the devil.

Many girls had come before you, maidens that willingly succumbed to their fate, screams snuffed out with the trees as their witness. There was not an ounce of subservience within you, no desire to meet your end alone, to become another notch on the post.

Tears stained your cheeks, liquid salt chilled as it settled upon your features, now steeped in dirt as you stumbled through forested wilderness. Winters were dangerous — the biting ice gnawed at your bones, threatening to rip away your extremities.

Before your fellow villagers could put you to the blade, you fled — naked, bitten by frost, alone with only monsters to nip at your heels.

Their desperate cries echoed into the night, the sound of begging — pleading to be spared without their tribute. Groomed to become an inevitable feast for the creature that tormented your village, you could no longer sit idly by and wait to die.

Beneath your breast, your heart clenched, pounding like that of a drum as it howled within your ears. The whiplike scratch of the wind raked across your body, leaving you heaving, fighting against encroaching exhaustion.

In the distance, torchlight grew dim — those who knew of Nosferatu did not dare venture into the woods or the nearby mountainside. Strands of garlic and crucifixes shrouded the borders of your village, superstitions workings to keep the creature at-bay.

Twigs and undergrowth beneath the snow scraped across your feet as you continued to blindly stumble through the forest, emerging onto the other side, where the bridge rested. Beside it, an obelisk — holy relics, strands of garlic, a sign.

‘TURN BACK, OR MEET DEATH’, it read, the script having weathered with the passage of time. The bridge led to a winding path, a path that could only lead to your inevitable demise. Blood began to ooze from your soles, flesh agitated, lips becoming chapped by the wind.

The Carpathian Mountains stood vigil, an impenetrable wall of ancient rock that kept you from the castle that lay between snow-laden peaks. Wisps of snow fluttered from dusky skies, illuminated only by silvery slats of moonlight.

A haze surrounded your vision — exhaustion coupled with the inevitable shroud of frostbite, and yet, something propelled your forward. Respite awaited you in the form of cold earth and maggots if you continued, the spectre of death hovering above you.

With weak steps, you crossed the bridge, hands still bound together, rope having ripped away at the velvety flesh around your wrists. Shadows became listless, alive, as if something moved within the forest, and still, you wandered forth.

There were worse creatures than wolves and bears in the forests, mere fodder to something archaic, an ancient evil feared by your village for decades. Old maids whispered tales of the Castle Orava, home to a den of monsters considered to be servants of the devil, a harbinger of hell.

Foul magic was at-work, they claimed — and yet, you felt drawn for reasons unexplainable. It was as if you were being lured into open waters, dark and treacherous, as black as a bottomless pit. Despite the heaviness of your body, you carried on, bare and blistered.

The path became even, a seemingly-endless stretch of black woodland that broke away to reveal a gate, as ancient as the landscape itself. Even through your blurred vision, shapes danced within darkness, as if they were grinning.

A wheeze of exhaustion bubbled up within your throat, parched and hoarse, flesh beginning to submit to the earth below. You could not recall when you had fallen, crawling toward the gate as if it would be your salvation.

Hoofbeats crackled against the dirt, a distant dream, like the wisp of a memory that soon dissipated — only, it was reality.

Before your body gave way to the blissful kiss of death, a shadow approached, casting its oppressive hand across you. It was veiled by darkness, a presence most enigmatic, something that you hadn’t experienced before.

Nails as sharp as talons ghosted above your satiny flesh, now marred by bruises and by nature’s cruel sting. Your breathing became shallow, strained by a sudden wave of nauseating terror as this shadow swallowed you whole, blanketing you in what you believed to be eternal darkness.

Oh, how you longed for it — for death’s final caress.

Dreams muddled themselves with waking nightmares — and you were trapped, the lamb screaming in the woods, unable to run free. It was the same stretch of dark forest, eyes following you from penumbra, a gloom so dour and terrifying that it rattled your spine.

Running, running, running — it was all you could remember, falling to your knees in the chilled earth, stone biting at your flesh, bones begging for rest. The gleam of torchlight and the shimmer of the blade still haunted you, the executioner preparing to give your blood to protect your village.

In the howl of your terror, the wood seemed to close in around you, like a wrought-iron cage, its thorns drawing blood from your ragged skin. You wanted to scream, to cry out, beg for a savior — and yet, no sound emerged, only ash.

There, in the endless obscurity of a long night, was he — the creature.

Claws that extended from ashen digits reached for you, took hold, and you felt his grasp close in around your throat. No pleas of mercy escaped your tongue, now turned to stone. Death was what you expected in the maw of this shadow — and it never came.

Its hands did not squeeze, with no intent to snuff the air from your lungs. It wasn’t the hold of one desiring death, like that of strangulation, but the embrace of lust. It was unfamiliar — cold, exhilarating, unyielding — and yet, you never wanted anything more.

No visage ever emerged, only the sheen of crimson-stained fangs that sought your breast, the stench of something foul permeating your surroundings. There was no pain — his bite was akin to the caress of a lover, lacking maliciousness, lacking the gnash and tear of a predator.

Hunger — you could feel it burning like an open flame within your throat, his famine. A creature that starved, with an appetite so unorthodox that it was your blood he craved.

With a strangled gasp, you awoke.

Woodlands were exchanged for the frigid, stone interior of an ancient castle, fixtures remarkably old, possessing macabre decor. Your gaze flickered to the ghoulish countenance of a gargoyle hanging above a roaring hearth, heart nearly leaping from your chest.

Whatever dream you awoke from, you could not discern it from reality, a thought that frightened you to no end. Surrounded by the thick, cured hide of a grizzly, you found yourself bare, still lacking a scrap of clothing. The hide was large enough to preserve your modesty, if you had any left.

The rope that had shackled your wrists together was no more, nonexistent — only raw wounds remained. This castle was cursed, a place of horrors beyond your imagination; you could not explain the semblance of reprieve that you felt.

Licks of comforting heat soothed your icy bones, the simmering fire bringing you a semblance of peace, no matter how threadbare. This newfound environment seemed haunted, decrepit — the furnishings were covered in a layer of dust.

It was luxurious, fixtures fit for that of nobility, a lifestyle that eclipsed your own existence back in the village. Now, you belonged to nothing, with no home to return to. Your traitorous actions would be met with punishment, if you were to return.

The floor beneath you was crafted of stone, covered in a layer of dust. Tangles of cobwebs stretched across the mantle above the hearth, roused only by the ghost of a draft that fluttered throughout the room.

Beside the hearth, sat a tub — the gold had tarnished, making it appear dilapidated, as if it were weathered by the elements. Steam rose from the water inside, as still as a silent pond.

A soft groan escaped you, body wracked with the frigid sting of agony, one that made your stomach turn as you approached the bath. It was unusual, the placement — your desire for cleanliness outweighed your skepticism.

Wobbling legs trembled like leaves upon a windswept branch as you sank into steaming water, causing you to hiss at the intrusion against your wounds. The heat did wonders, offering relief from the stab of ice, from the cruelty of the Carpathian cliffsides.

It was still dusk, the hour of the bat, a night that left you with a constant presence of dread. The creature, the man you saw — his shadow had not left you, as if pieces still lingered within your heart as you scrubbed yourself free of grime.

The groan of withered hinges gave way to the weight of the cast-iron doors, adorned with the heads of snarling hounds. Light pooled in from the crack in the door, causing gooseflesh to rake along your spine, followed by a shiver.

Something pulled you — like a puppeteer orchestrating a show, strings that bound you to some medieval presence beyond the doors. The flames within the hearth began to flicker, their light diminishing, waning to little more than smoldering embers.

Fear took root within your heart, its tendrils seizing within you, filling you with a wave of disquiet. Despite the warmth of the water, your flesh screams with an icy chill, throat growing thick as you reached for the bear’s hide.

Shame rippled through you, still bare and exposed beneath the mountain of fur. Firelight illuminated the next room, far more vast than the one you awoke in. Shuffling forward, you grasped at the edge of the door, benumbed iron firm beneath your palm.

A dining hall stretched before you, an ornate table lined with tall chairs that were made from the finest of pelts, yet worn by time. In another lifetime, this castle might’ve been beautiful — instead, it was a mausoleum of the damned.

An ornate candelabra sat atop the table, wisps of smoke drifting from extinguished wicks. A sizable pitcher sat beside a pair of wine glasses, glass contained within some metallic design that twisted around the base.

Two chairs had faced the roaring fireplace, a hearth that dwarfed the size of the one in your quarters. Your footsteps were feather-light as you crossed the threshold, carrying yourself closer to the table.

“Hello?” Whispers to an empty room stirred something within the shadows, accompanied by the garish bark of hounds. Icy dread coalesced within the pit of your stomach as you looked around, fearful of your intrusion.

A door opposite of you opened, moved by a nameless shadow, whose frame eclipsed all slivers of light — an ominous void, as black as pitch. Two hounds snarled at the spectre’s heels, leering through the corridor’s darkness.

Strigoi — the revenant of pestilence, now standing before you. You should’ve been terrified, thrown yourself at its mercy, but instead, you remained petrified where you stood.

For the briefest of moments, your eyes fluttered, and the shadow no longer occupied the space within the hallway. The door slammed shut, the thunderous crack of iron reverberating throughout the room.

The hounds paced forth, growling at you as they settled somewhere along the fringes, laying down alongside scaling stone columns. You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

Flames shuddered in the wake of an archaic presence, akin to an icy gale, and with it, the aura of something horribly foreboding. The shadow appeared at the head of the table, each ragged breath evoking a low, guttural growl.

“Sit.”

It was inhuman, his voice — akin to thunder shaking the mountains, like the roll of a dark tide, dragging sailors into its unforgiving seas. He spoke your native tongue, Dacian, and yet it sounded harsher from his lips, wrought with blades.

Through pools of dim firelight, you caught a glimpse of his visage — sharp and pointed, stone-faced and garish. His features, whilst gaunt, possessed all of the markings of a nobleman, attire bearing sigils of royalty, crafted of fine pelts.

With trembling hands, you lowered yourself into your seat, shrouded by the warmth of the grizzly’s hide, ensuring that you were concealed from his view. That pang of hunger you felt in your dream, a ravenous appetite — you could feel it again.

The plate placed before you is nothing more than a generous portion of bread, somewhat stale from constant exposure to acrid air. Your stomach gnashes with hunger, the sting of starvation — you dared not touch it.

“Eat,” His command reverberates throughout the hall, enough to cause a wave of gooseflesh to permeate your skin, dancing along your spine. “Thou shall refer to me as thy lordship.” You had not yet extended your gratitude — he must’ve plucked you from the snow.

Without an ounce of hesitation, your teeth greedily sank into bread, pulling it apart with the fervor of some wild animal. You were not a noblewoman, nor a maiden with any title or dowry — merely the daughter of a carpenter.

“My Lord,” What did one say to a creature that once terrorized your home, to a myth now manifested into flesh? “I — I must thank you, for your hospitality.” Reduced to a mere shrew in his presence, you chewed whatever piece of bread lingered in your mouth.

It was you, his lamb — intended to be his sacrifice, his sated hunger, sparing your village from the terror of his curse.

Another snarl emerged from him, accompanied by each rasp of his breathing, a noise that perplexed you to no end. Strigoi were dangerous — servants of hell itself, creatures born of dark sorcery, ones that had no place in the natural world.

Akin to a mere wisp of shadow, he manifested at your side, pouring a goblet of wine for you, the liquid a dusky crimson. Your gaze never dared to look him in the eyes, feeling the ghost of his finger dance across your cheek.

Such warmth, such feebleness — the beating of your heart only seemed to race with a pang of exhilaration. His flesh was akin to an endless winter, as cold as ice, like roughened leather, decaying beneath the earth.

“Drink.”

Your lips had not tasted wine as lavish as the chalice he presented you with, and it felt saccharine upon your tongue. Greed consumed you, prompting you to drink as if it were your lifeblood.

Long had this castle stood, many centuries of history contained within walls as old as time. A Count, a nobleman he had been in life, a black sorcerer. You, this enchantress, maiden of nothing — you would be his bride, his obsession, his unmaker.

From the rotten gloom of his fortress, he had preyed upon your village for years — years spent in-fear of this serpent, feeding upon the young and old. Blood was blood, and it did not matter the age, so long as his appetite was satiated.

“What do you intend for me?” Your voice was little more than a trembling mewl, expecting to be submitted to dark magics or something far worse. A low grunt stirred within his throat, nail dragging along the curve of your jaw.

With great restraint, his hand recoiled, leaving your warmth as he considered your inquiry in silence. You were intended for him — not as a sacrifice, but as something more, if you were willing.

Centuries spent in his eternal tomb, centuries spent waiting for you — Orlok had crossed oceans of time, wading through endless night to find you.

“Thou must rest — no blade shall find you here.” He rumbled, looming like some dark cloud above your head. It was your scent that drove him to madness, drowned within the concoction of oils placed into the bath. It was a scent he would covet fervently.

A hitch formed within your throat, and your terror had diminished, but only enough to keep you from shaking with dread. You did not understand what he wanted from you, why he did not tear you limb from limb, the fate that had befallen many of your kin.

No blade that wasn’t his own, you pondered, chewing at the inside of your cheek until the flesh was raw. Blood coalesced, sanguine drops attracting the sudden, sharp ire of your host, whose black eyes glittered with bewilderment.

“My Lord, I — I do not understand …” Uncertainty began to permeate your tone, cadence wrought with a newfound fright. Your blood ran cold, heart leaping into your throat as your chest tightened with a great and terrible worry.

“Rest.” His growl ripped through him, reverberating from his chest like the snarl of a feral beast. You skittered from the chair, still swathed in bearskin as you retreated to the room you came from.

Perhaps, he had mistaken your fear as something ungrateful. He had not slaughtered you yet, making you an unwitting guest within his home — you should’ve been offering your gratitude without protest.

The flame within the hearth had dissipated in one fell swoop, as if some storming gale had swept throughout the hall, stealing all light with it. Darkness swallowed your surroundings, and the Count had disappeared entirely, as if he had manifested into shadow.

A shudder coursed along your spine, sending you clamoring into the false comfort of your chambers. The door had shut before you, as if propelled by some unseen force, prompting you to move towards the bed behind you.

Not even the velvet curtains could offer you security, as if they were transparent, or nonexistent. You could still feel the chill of his breath against your cheek, the sensation of his claw tracing along your jaw — you should’ve been repulsed.

Instead of abhorrence, you felt a deep-seated yearning — a blistering desire that you hadn’t experienced before, a tether that anchored you to this being. You feared yourself, the amalgamation of sensations rousing within you as you crawled beneath the sheets.

Sleep would not find you — not here.

Your dreams were no longer yours, bound to him — whatever slumber you could find, you were subject to these visions, lascivious in nature. Whatever rest you could find was disjointed, interrupted by dreams so real that you were convinced of their tangibility, as if you could reach out and touch.

It was him you dreamt of, coming to you at an ungodly hour, claws raking across your bare flesh as he unraveled your sheets. The constant penumbra kept him concealed from you, and yet, you burned to see him fully.

He touched you in your dreams, appearing between your legs as you bared your soul to him, a figure so impossibly large and intimidating. It was guilt and trepidation you should’ve felt, laying with the scourge of your people, a baneful serpent.

Instead, it was euphoria — a desire to bind yourself to him, to cage yourself within his grasp. Spindly digits caressed along your body, nails ghosting above your breasts, traveling to the plane of your stomach.

Unclean — that was what you were, piety now stained in his shadow. Even that did not perturb you as you reached for him, wisps of air being stolen from your lungs as he leaned closer, teeth scraping against your sternum.

“Please,” You had begged him to continue, to bring you a pleasure that you had not yet experienced. “Do not stop.” Whatever pleas fell from your mouth had been for naught — and you awoke with sweat-slick skin and startlement.

As your eyes fluttered open, you were flustered to find the heavy warmth of arousal between your thighs, sheets tangled around your body. Embarrassment turned to frustration, throat dry as you adjusted yourself to the darkness of your chambers.

“Thine body yearns, starved for embrace,” Like the clash of thunder, his voice shook the room, emerging from the pitch surrounding you. You did not know where he was, but he was here with you — physically. “A lamb seeking the shepherd.”

An icy breeze fluttered throughout your quarters, moonlight glistening along the curtains surrounding the bed — and you saw his shadow beside you. Exposed, you drew the sheets around you, with a shame so sharp, and yet your skin gave so easily.

That familiar knot of dread bubbled within your stomach, gooseflesh crawling along your body as you wrapped your arms around you. “I feel your shadow upon me — I should not want you.” You whispered into the gloom.

A growl stirred from the strigoi, and he burrowed into your shame, settling into your bones. “Thine will is your own — it is in your nature,” He rumbled, and that was when you saw him, lingering at the foot of the bed. “Give thyself to me.”

It was your agonizing shame that kept you from crawling to him on all fours like some beast, starving for any scrap of touch. You wanted him, in your own twisted way — wanted him to shield you from your kin, to take you, to live within your ribs.

There was no life left for you in the village — the kin that amassed to put you to the blade, left in the woods for him were not your friends. Perhaps, that was what drove you all along, pushing you into his embrace.

His tendrils wrapped themselves around your mind, no thoughts left untouched, each crevice now surrendered to the Count. He could taste your burning lust, your desire to belong, to belong to him — and he craved such sentiments.

“What little life you had, now belongs to me. Give thyself, willingly — I shall satisfy this craving, and your flesh will be mine alone.”

In the slim fade of silver, you saw him — gaunt and pale, like that of an apparition. In life, he might’ve been called handsome, comely — your disgust should’ve kept you away, made you flee. You were rooted to the bed, able to meet his stare.

Hues as black as pitch, swirling with a hunger unending, an eternal appetite that demanded to be sated by you. He watched you hawkishly, his shadow descending upon you, the phantom sensation of fingers dancing across your collarbone.

Enraptured by the Count, your enticement only seemed to blossom, unfurling from your chest with a wave of want. Instead of hiding yourself from him, you sluggishly allowed the sheets to drop, breasts pebbling from the chilled air.

“I am yours — and only yours, my Lord.”

With a breathy declaration of your devotion, a snarl bubbled from his throat, a sound that sent shivers cascading down your body. Your legs untangled themselves from the sheets altogether, nakedness now exhilarating instead of humiliating.

It was as if you were eased down by some unseen presence, as clawed, shadowed hands bid you to recline into the feathered bed beneath you. The Count did not move from the foot of the frame, leering at you with an ugly obsession.

“Think only of me.”

Whatever supernatural abilities he possessed, he used them, as if you were placed back into the vision you’d had before. His tone rattles your insides, a booming timbre wrought with something dark and enigmatic.

Phantom sensations drift along your body, the touch of another foreign to you. You have used your own hand before, but this feels exhilarating, like a gale of frigid wind ghosting across your frame.

Arousal coalesces between your legs, a slick heat that oozes onto the sheets. It is your scent that vexes him so, the scent of a siren, the call of your sanguine soul.

Without a thought, your hand shyly drifts to your chest, kneading into one of your breasts. Your skin prickles when he makes a sharp, throaty growl of satisfaction. His ghostly claws rake along the supple flesh of your thighs.

A moan escapes you, one of delight as you begin to sink into his presence. For now, he is content to observe, his shadow partaking instead of his physical being — it will not be that way for long.

Soon, your flesh would join — you would become bound to him, and he to you, a union abhorred by many. He reveled at the thought of you, flesh eternal, revealing yourself to him like the unfurling petals of a flower.

No longer shrewd beneath his covetous glower, you freely touch yourself, squeaking out a myriad of sounds from your throat. “Take all of me, beloved.” You exhale, the pad of your thumb flicking across your swollen nipple.

The use of such an intimate title evokes a ragged, strained exhale from your paramour, whose obsession rages like that of a tempest. His phantom claws trace along your body, circling your unattended breast.

It kneads just as you do, sharp talons continuing to tease the pebbled bud, drawing out a mewl from your sweet lips. Gooseflesh erupts across the back of your neck, another wave of arousal flushing through your frame.

A heated ardor burned between your thighs, soon to be soothed by the ghost of gnarled digits. Spectral claws continue to revel in your velvety flesh, seeking your arousal as the shadow traces across your cunt. It makes you writhe, one hand grasping desperately at the sheets.

A strangled whimper emerges from you, back beginning to arch into his salacious embrace. He continues to watch from his place at the foot of the bed, breathing unnaturally hoarse, strained with a wanton need.

Warmth exhumes from you like the lick of an open fire, extinguishing his gravely chill. The Count’s gaze greedily consumes your contorting form, able to hear the erratic beating of your heart, your mouth torn open, his name upon your lips.

No curse had befallen you, save that of devotion.

Phantom digits find the pearl of your cunt, teasing the clutch of nerves before vigorously circling it. Your knees buckle, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to such unholy appetites.

“Give in to thine own desires.”

That gravelly purr coaxes you to seek your satisfaction, and you mechanically obey, as if transfixed by his voice alone. A sharp exhale splits your ribs, and the hand that once grasped the sheets soon finds its way between your legs.

An unnatural sheen permeates his black hues, one that seems appeased with your subservience. No dead heart could beat — his skeletal frame had not felt such fervor for centuries.

Again, you look to him, as if wanting him to witness your lust, fingers dancing along your swollen folds. Your digits seek to roll across your slit, eliciting a whine from you as you begin to touch yourself.

Dragging your legs against the sheets, you keep them parted, two fingers sluggishly rutting against your nethers. A phantom hand caresses along your stomach, nails raking from navel to sternum, and then to your throat.

The pressure sends a spike of adrenaline through your body, the sensation unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. You think of him in an untoward manner, unbecoming of a maiden, lascivious fantasies that make you sigh.

Ghostly caresses layer themselves across your chest, and you swear you hear him shift throughout the room, drawing closer to you. Your thumb languidly circles your pearl, teeth gnashing at your lower lip.

A throaty moan rips from your diaphragm, wrought with ecstasy as you pleasure yourself, one palm kneading at your breast. The other is spirited, ministrations laced with desire as your digits find your entrance.

His shadow is oppressive, a force that blankets itself across your body, and for a moment, you see a vision of him, crawling over your flesh. Your thoughts are molded to him, able to be toyed with — your Lord makes you see his own whims.

It became difficult to discern dreams from reality, imagining his hands roaming your form, claws sinking into your flesh, his brand. You call out to him, a whimpering plea that begs him for release.

Arousal mounts, burning heavy within the pit of your stomach as you squirm, pushing two fingers into the tight heat of your cunt. The noises are sinful, a myriad of strained moans intermingled with crass strokes of your digits.

The Count’s phantom hand continues to squeeze at your throat, nails digging into the silken flesh of your neck. A sharp exhale emerges from your lips, toes beginning to curl at the concoction of sensations assaulting your body.

You alone had grown intimately acquainted with your own body, and yet he handled you as if you had been lovers for centuries. Ghostly digits begin to toy with the pearl of your cunt, causing your muscles to twitch.

“Please,” A supplication to the shadows, wanting some release for your overwhelming pleasure. It swarms you from all around, senses invaded with his dominating presence. “My Lord, please!” Your cunt clenches around your fingers.

A growl erupts from the pitch, his gaze fixated upon you as he looms closer, hovering above your writhing frame. The scent of your cruor ensnares him like a wolf to a rabbit, and he finally moves to perch beside you.

His garb only makes him seem impossibly statuesque, hand hovering above you as his sorcery intensifies. Your back arches, feeling his shadow purse around your pearl, enough to make you fist at the sheets.

Ecstatic digits piston themselves in and out of your nethers, coated in a thin layer of slick, thighs shifting together in an attempt to relieve any ounce of friction.

Higher — you climb toward your release, chasing after it with a thinly-veiled desperation. Shadowy sensations move across your body like liquid smoke, squeezing beneath your jaw, continuing to circle around your clit.

You are temptation incarnate — his devotion to you is a powerful thing, just as yours is to him. Sharp, jagged teeth hover above your breast, and the Count succumbs to his hunger, at last.

Pain blossoms throughout your breast, and yet you hadn’t felt an ecstasy quite like this. It was blinding, white-hot as it consumed you whole, swallowing you within the abyss of lust. Teeth break flesh, tasting your cruor upon his tongue.

No drink could compare to that of your sanguine ichor, no sensation — the Count drank from your breast, a possessive snarl ripping through his chest. He bristled at the feeling of your warm palm cupping the nape of his neck.

A crescendo of moans tore through you as you approached your peak, digits continuing to dip inward, curling within your cunt. It became strained, body trembling with an onslaught of ecstasy.

Claws begin to stroke along your tresses, as if easing you into submission, coaxing forth a release that makes you scream. Your body curls toward him, cunt slick with your mess as you find your satisfaction, at last.

A warm rush of your essence soaks the sheets, the scent enough to drive your paramour to madness. It furthers his bloodlust in a way that entices you, another wheezing exhale leaving him.

A rough tongue slithers against your sternum, stained in crimson as he openly feasts from you, and you do not recoil. Your peak seems to work in-tandem with his appetite, feeling his claws ghost above your breast.

Muscles ache with spasmodic twitches, chest flourishing with the sting of agony as it spreads throughout your sternum. Instead, you invite him closer, digits stroking at the greying, decayed flesh, allowing him to sup upon you.

His gravelly voice seems to intensify within the recesses of your mind, speaking to you through a distant haze. “Thine flesh belongs to me,” He rumbles, and you hold him closer. “As this flesh belongs to thee.”

He does not touch you, leaving you with some aching void that can only be filled by him — he alone will satisfy the craving.

#slasher x reader #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #count orlok x reader #nosferatu x reader #bill skarsgård #slasher x you #vampire x reader #vampire x human #monster fucker #count orlok x you #count orlok

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emmyrosee · 8 months ago

Note

Imagine having a kid with Sukuna and him urging you to have a day out after giving birth and taking care of the baby so you can have a fun stress free day with friends, and then him having a daddy daughter date. I thought it’s cute 🥰

oh… oh you KNOW HOW I FEEEEEEEEL ABOUT A DAD!AU (bro this got so long im sO SORRY-)

———

“Okay, there’s three bottles of milk in the fridge.”

“Okay.”

“And her melts are in the cabinet!”

“I know, I live here too.”

“Oh! And her stuffed lamb is her favorite to nap with-“

“Babe,” Sukuna laughs, wrapping an arm around you. In his other arm, Akiara is held securely, with an arm under her thighs to keep her perched against his chest, the pacifier in her mouth bouncing as she rattles a small toy in her hands. “I got this. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if you need me, call me.”

“I’m not going to call you. Go have fun,” he encourages. Deep down, he knows you’re terrified to leave the baby with anyone for more than 15 minutes, always keeping her in close proximity and within earshot. The farthest you’ve gone is to shower while Sukuna indulges with tummy time, and it seems that every time, you’re surprised the house hasn’t crumbled in the brief period.

But Akiara is five months now. And your friends begged you to come shopping with them, missing you from outings with the group. Sukuna knows you trust him implicitly, but your separation anxiety is physically felt in the air this point. He pulls you in for a hug and presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “go. If the house catches on fire, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I can handle a few hours with my own spawn.” You tense slightly, and he offers you a stern look, “do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, but-“

“Then let me take care of everything. Go.”

You offer him a shaky sigh and make your way over to Akiara in his arms, “mommy loves you so much, okay?” You whisper. She babbles and grabs your hair, and Sukuna can see the nervous tears welling up. “I’ll be home in two hours tops.”

“Don’t time yourself,” he chuckles. “Go with your girlfriends. I gave you the credit card, go buy some clothes, or a necklace, or those expensive ass pastries you love so much.” Then, he nods his head towards the door, “scram. Before you cry your mascara off.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Okay-“ you blow them both a few kisses as you slowly make your way to the door, “I love you both so much. Behave. Oh, and nap time is at 1:30-“

“Babe. Go,” he snickers. He watches as you open the door and walk backwards out, your eyes focused on the two of them until the door shuts fully, keeping you outside and them on the inside. Sukuna sighs in relief and he adjusts Akiara to be held arms length, “you, stinky girl, need a bath,” he hums, and when the little girl coos, he brings her tiny body up to his mouth to playfully bite her chubby belly, hiccupy laughter filling the air briefly before he pulls a face of disgust and holds her back out. “Yeah. You stink. Like a lot.”

Sukuna wastes no time in setting up her bathtub and cleansing the tiny child with her soaps, letting her splash the warm water for some time until she reaches up for him. He barely gets her out of the tub and into a towel before his phone buzzes wildly. He sighs and answers it, “do I have to block your number?”

“No!” You whine. “I just wanted to see how things were going. I just got to the restaurant, wanted to make sure everything was okay before I ate.”

“Well the dog got out, I broke a vase and our kid went to college, so not great,” he says flatly, and when you huff in annoyance, and smirks, “everything is fine. She just had a bath, I’m trying to dry her off, and then we’re going to watch some of those dancing fruits she likes so much. Goodbye.”

“Wait- you bathed her before you fed her?” You ask.

He pulls his mouth into a straight line, “yes. Because she smelt like shit fart-“

“Sukuna!” You snap.

“If I have to bathe her again, I will. It’s not the end of the world,” he tries to soothe. When you click your tongue he chuckles again. “Okay. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” you say, ending the phone call. He pockets the device and looks down at his child. “Shes your mother alright,” he says. His daughter merely babbles and chews on her fingers. He gets her settled into a clean diaper before hoisting her back and onto his hip, making his way to the living room, resting her on his massive stomach and clicking on the TV for some entertainment. There’s a baseball game on, surely you won’t mind if he indulges while his baby lays on his chest.

The colors are good stimulation.

“Who you got money on?” He asks Akiara, who blinks eyes like yours up at him. When she smiles a gummy smile, he shrugs, “I don’t know. They’ve got a really good pitcher.” His thick fingers gently stroke up and down her spine, so gently and warm that he feels Akiara’s breathing slowly even out, his little girl falling asleep on his chest. He winces, he knows you’re not going to be thrilled about an early nap time, but who the hell is he to wake a sleeping baby?

A sleeping baby who sleeps for hours. You’re going to be pissed at him.

By the time the game is over, Akiara is still fast asleep on his chest, tiny hands balled into fists as her long lashes lay on her cheeks. Sukuna’s gotta give you credit, you haven’t called or texted since her bath, and now it’s well into four hours since you’ve left and you’re still out with your friends. He’s proud of you.

He’s not sure how long in total Akiara was sleeping for, but not long after the game, she slowly twitches awake, eyes fluttering open before fixating on him. He watches fondly as her body slowly wakes up, starting with her sleepy eyes that blink open, followed by her mouth which opens to let out the smallest yawn.

“Good morning, sleepy girl,” he hums, gently cradling the back of her head. “Was that a good nap?” Akiara merely thunks her head back against his chest in response. He kisses her head softly before standing up, shuffling to the kitchen to grab one of the prepared bottles from the fridge. He pops it in her mouth, where her tiny fists assist him in holding it. The child drinks the milk happily, wide eyes blinking as she downs the beverage hungrily. He smirks, “definitely my kid.”

With that, you come home.

He can tell by the jingling of keys you’re trying to hurry in as fast as possible, and he snickers at your struggle. Once the door finally creaks open, you haul your bags into the home and kick the door shut, smiling as your eyes land on your little family. “Hey you.”

“What’s up?” He hums, kissing you as you get close. “How was it?”

“It was great!” You squeal, and he can’t fight the way his heart squeezes at your excitement. “I got some new dresses, a pair of heels, some perfumes- oh, and I got you a cologne-“

“That’s my girl,” he says, but he can tell your attention is focused on the small girl he’s currently burping, and he shrugs, “you want to take over?”

When you nod sheepishly, he gently passes Akiara over to you, and you coo down at her, “hi, Mumma’s girl,” you coo, and she burps loudly in your face. “Well excuse you!”

Sukuna can’t fight the laughter that barks from his throat, snickers tearing through until you’re smiling and shaking your head, and he pulls you in for another hug.

He loves that his small family fits in his arms.

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werecreature-addicted · 10 months ago

Note

Sacrificial Lamb reader/vampire priest.

Just consider— a cute little lamb reader lying on the altar, begging not to be slaughtered, the tears their crying making the vampires heart flutter. All the cult members are confused why the ritual keeps getting pushed back- meanwhile the vampire is spoiling his little lamb rotten.

ohioohooohiohoo

His hands are gentle, stroking your cheek as you wake slowly, your eyes flutter open slowly to the morning light, and there he is, your keeper.

"Morning," you yawn sleepily,

"Good morning, little one,"

"is it a good morning? I thought my execution was scheduled for today." you huff, you should be more scared but the soft look on his face can only mean one thing. you get out of bed and change idly, not minding the priest as he watches you, he's a man of god after all, there's no way he'd be looking at you in lust.

"ah well, we thought so but some knew doctrine has come to light, now is not the time for sacrifices. we'll have to wait for next winter, at the very least," he says. You hum thoughtfully turning back to face him, his hungry red eyes fixed on your body, flicking up to meet your face as you turn around.

"Well, I'll make myself useful until winter then." When you were born, it had been prophecized that you would be sacrificed to the gods and your death would bring about a new golden age for your homeland. Then, on your eighteenth birthday, you'd been handed over to the church, to live out your final days in the temple, under the watchful gaze of the father and his dedicated cult. Your execution has been postponed four times now.

You wondered if the cultists even bothered setting up the altar this time. it was always something, the stars weren't aligned properly, the materials were all wrong, you fell ill and couldn't be slaughtered while sick, and now, Spring was a time for rebirth, you'd have to wait for winter for the ritual. which winter? who's to say? it might be another few years before he tries to start your sacrifice again.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. he puts his nose to your throat and kisses your skin. "You could be useful to me now," he breathes, his voice strained, tight with hunger. You had been so scared the first time you'd almost been killed, you remembered sobbing and pleading for your life, his knife poised above your throat, He told you that you could live, for now, if you served the cult and him. Of course, you agreed, that was the first time he bit you, spilling your blood on the altar in a different way.

You lean your neck to the side and sigh as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. you have to lean back against him for support as he drinks your blood and you grow weaker.

"so perfect, so delicious," he murmurs to himself as he drinks your blood, licking at your throat, catching any stray drops of blood. His hands slide down your body feeling up your hips and thighs. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your back as he slowly grinds against you. The priest is chaste, a man of god, but he's also a vampire, as he's explained he can't help but get erect when he feeds it's a natural side effect and completely nonsexual.

He pins you down on the bed and pushes your legs apart, grinding against you, fully clothed, as he bites your neck again. you feel dizzy, a mix of feelings as your blood is drained and as you buck and grind against the vampire on top of you. you try to keep quiet, but you can't help but moan as he takes full advantage of you. You feel dirty, the man who's saved your life so many times now is just trying to eat and here you are getting off, practically masturbating right in front of him with his cock.

You can feel how large his dick is as you grind together, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he pulled your underwear aside and fucked you properly while he drained your blood, the thought alone makes you shudder and press up against him as he continues to dry hump you. although with the sticky feeling between your legs and his wet mouth sucking on your neck, "dry" might be the wrong word.

you bite down on your own hand to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as you cum, still trying to hide your own lust, what would the priest think if he found out you were so lustful? if you were lucky he'd bend you over and spank you for being so sinful, at worst he might chain you down to the sacrificial altar and leave you there.

The priest pulls away, breathless, your blood smeared messily around his mouth "What a mess we've made," he huffs, looking down at your neck, and then his eyes drop further to the place where your bodies meet.

"I can clean it-" you offer weakly,

"no, no little thing, rest, you need to let your body heal, close your eyes, I'll take care of all this," he coos reassuringly, you nod obediently and close your eyes.

You look so venerable like this, he could do almost anything he wanted with you in this weakened state. the prophecy said it had to be a virginal sacrifice, maybe he could halt the ritual permanently if he just took what he'd wanted from the beginning.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #vampire #vampire smut #werewolf boyfriend #vampire x reader #vampire x reader smut #blasphemy #tw dubcon

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ghostfacd · 1 year ago

Text

I BET ON LOSING DOGS.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

PART TWO

summary: you were the epitome of sunshine, and coriolanus? he was like the storm, the rain, and the everything in between.

warnings: SPOILERS from the movie & book, SMUT (protected cause we wrap it before we tap it! p in v), losing virginities to each other, snow (cause he himself needs a warning), toxic relationship, coriolanus is only in it for himself, mentions of losing virginity, you practically giving everything to snow and getting zero in return

author’s note: erm this is kinda long idek where tf i was going with this, first time writing smut on this account LOL so it might be bad. also this isn’t proofread so there might be mistakes, just ignore! as always, reblogs and comments are so greatly appreciated, enjoy reading + kisses 💓

You were the epitome of the sun itself, the sparkle, the light, and most importantly, the brightness. Despite being filthy rich, you were still that sweet sunshine Y/N everyone grown to love, the heir to the Cicero family.

Coriolanus Snow hated that about you. Not only were you everything he was not, but you lived such a lavish and easy lifestyle that it made him sick. Why was he stuck eating cabbage while you were off eating the finest thin slices of meat in the Capitol made by your chefs? It wasn’t fair, it just simply wasn’t.

“Well, Coryo!” Your sickeningly sweet voice fills his ears like a mantra.

He turns around, a smirk plays on his face. “My Y/N.”

Hearing him call you his made your heart flutter. You loop your arm through his, passing through the other academy students who were engrossed in their conversations

“Finally the star pupil.” Arachne Crane says, a glass of posca in her hand. “Lovely shirt you’ve got there. What are these cunning buttons? Tesserae?”

He looked at the shirt, shrugging. “Hm? Are they? Must’ve why they reminded me of the maid’s bathroom.”

You held his hands in yours. You knew of Coriolanus’s home life, how he wasn’t so lucky like you to have a gigantic home filled with lovable parents. His mom had died during childbirth, Coryo mentioning to you once how he was supposed to have a little sister. His father—died in the hands of rebels.

“Have you tried this lamb? It's scandalous.” Felix suddenly spoke up, taking a bite of the food that was currently on his plate.

“Didn’t daddy teach you table manners?.” Festus sneered, watching the other boy in disgust.

“Maybe he would have if he wasn’t so busy running the country.” Felix snapped back

Coriolanus took a deep breath in, already feeling overwhelmed by his classmates arguing.

After the announcement of the assigning of mentor to tributes, you could tell Coriolanus was upset. Although he wouldn’t let anyone see, he was visibly anxious and quite frankly, annoyed.

“I mean, cmon, how could it that I got the worst district?” Coriolanus says, head in his hands. “He hates me. He really does.”

“Who hates you Coryo?”

“Dean Highbottom! Isn’t it obvious?” He cries out, hands flinging into the air. You slightly flinch back, never seeing your boyfriend in such state. “He hates me Y/N. He adores you.”

“He doesn’t adore me,” you say, feeling like you were stepping around eggshells talking to Coriolanus.

“He does!” Coriolanus screams in anger, getting up in a hurry.

“Wait, no Coryo, I’m sorry.”

But your words aren’t enough, they’ll never be for Coriolanus Snow, so he walks out without a second thought.

- - -

The next day, Coriolanus apologizes. It’s a breathy, quick 5 second apology, but you being so you—accepted it without a second thought.

You loved Coriolanus, so it didn’t matter how much he hurt you.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You felt quite excited, you and your boyfriend hadn’t exactly gotten to that stage in your relationship, so thinking about sharing an intimate moment with him filled you with giddiness.

His tip had entered carefully through your folds, making you slightly wince as it bullied its way to your walls.

“Coryo..” you breathe out hazily, doe eyes coming to meet his. He sucked in his breath at the sight, never has he felt anything as good as this.

He tries so hard convincing himself he doesn’t love you. That this—it meant nothing to him. He was just here for your money, your possessions as the only daughter of Cryon and Hermione Cicero. But as he felt your nails claw its way into his back, he lets out a slip, a tiny whimper that makes your head foggy.

He spilled into the condom, pulling out with a hiss. Although you told him you were clean, and it was fine if he didn’t wear one, he simply couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t going to accidentally bring in a child into the world, having no intentions of taking care of anyone besides himself—maybe Tigris, and his Grandma’am.

“I love you,” you say quietly as you sat up, watching him discard the plastic into your trash bin.

“I’m hungry, aren’t you?” He says, putting his shirt on. It kinds of pains you at his total ignorance of the intimate words you just shared, but you nod your head.

“I could use some food,” is all you say, putting on your pajamas from earlier. “What’re hungry for Coryo? I’ll ask the chef.”

- - -

Dr. Gaul and Dean Highbottom had allowed all the mentors and their tributes roam the arena for about 15 minutes, letting them think of ways to win the game.

You were talking to Bobbin, a boy from District 7 whom you’ve had become closer with these past few days.

Suddenly, the loud scream of Felix catches your attention and before you knew it, loud bombs filled the air as tall lights fell to the ground near you.

“CORYO!” You scream, coughing loudly at the dust filling your lungs.

“Quick Y/N, we don’t have time!” Sejanus screams, grabbing ahold of your hand.

“But Coryo—”

Meanwhile, a tall pole had crushed Coriolanus’s arms.

Well, he thought, this was it.

This was how he was going to die. His girlfriend and best friend hand in hand as they ran out of the arena, the sickening feeling of betrayal filled his guts.

“What’re you doing?!” One of the tributes screamed at Lucy Gray, who was struggling to get the giant metal off Coriolanus’s arm. “Run while you can you idiot!”

But she doesn’t bother, only focusing on getting Coriolanus out. And she does, successfully, before all went black.

- - -

“Coryo? Oh Coryo!” You say, hugging him softly to ensure you weren’t hurting him.

You had felt so guilty after everything had happened. You should’ve never ran off with Sejanus, Coriolanus was your boyfriend, you should’ve saved him.

“Is Lucy Gray okay?” Is the first thing he croaks out, which makes your heart slightly crack.

“She’s—she’s okay Coryo.” You say, brushing a few blonde curls out of his eyes.

“And where were you?” He says, gaze slowly turning into anger. “I was going to die, Y/N.”

“I know! I was going to—”

He cut you off. “But you didn’t, now did you?”

His bitterness towards you makes you want to cry, tears already forming at your lash line.

“Oh now you’re crying?” It seemed like everything you did seemed of inconvenience to Coriolanus, but he opens his arms, letting you reside in them as you let out a few tears. “Always the crybaby, Y/N.” He says, hand holding your head as you buried your face into his chest.

- - -

Coriolanus Snow never believed in love. Not when he used to look at his mother and father when they were still alive, and not when he found himself a girlfriend, you.

Your relationship was merely another step stone towards success, Coriolanus viewed it. You were the heir of your family, you had countless amounts of money, and you were easily fooled by his advances. To Coriolanus, he had hit the jackpot, regardless of loving you or not.

So why did he feel so weird watching you interact with Sejanus? Sure, he considered the former district 2 boy his best friend, but it was only because Clemensia had been spending time at the hospital. The flu, Dr. Gaul described it; but Snow knew better. He was there when she had gotten bit by the snakes, and to be completely honest, if she hadn’t, he’d probably have dated her instead of you.

Clemensia Dovecote was way more smart, and he knew he wouldn’t fall inlove because they were both after the same thing. Power.

But with you, you were head over heels for Coriolanus. It almost made him sick, if it weren’t for your family name.

He clenched his jaw as he saw you throw your head back, hitting Sejanus’s shoulder as you hysterically laughed at something he had said.

What was so funny? Nothing was funny in the Capitol, not now. Maybe he was bitter, he should’ve never cheated in the games. It was stupid, and now he was getting the punishment of getting sent to 12 as a peacekeeper for 20 years.

Fuck, he really shouldn’t have cheated. And now he couldn’t even use his girlfriend’s family name as a way out.

He really should’ve known better. He knew you loved him, but he didn’t think you’d love him so much so that you begged your father to let you stay in 12 for a while to be with Coriolanus.

If there’s one thing about you—it’s that you’re a Daddy’s girl by heart, and of course, your father had once again served your request with a silver spoon. He hated that about you. He hated it. You got things too damn easily.

“Hi Coryo!” You say, making your way to him. Your beautiful sundress made him gulp, and he wanted nothing more but to snatch you away, pulling it off so he could get inside of you. But he couldn’t—he was in 12, much to his dismay.

“Y/N,” he says, placing his peacekeeper gun to the back. “Talking to the scums?”

“They’re just people from the district,” you say, frowning at his rudeness. “They’re nice, Coryo. Real nice, you’d like some of them.”

Coriolanus scoffs at that. How oblivious and stupid you were. Him, Coriolanus Snow, liking some of the district 12 citizens? What a fucking joke.

“Go along now Y/N, I’ll see you later.”

You nod, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before you left, leaving the other peacekeepers to whistle at Coriolanus who only responds with an eye roll.

When later eventually comes, he was packing away the Jabberjays in their metal cages, Sejanus being right next to him.

“I saw you earlier,” Coriolanus says nonchalantly, “talking to that woman in the window. What are you playing at Sejanus?”

Sejanus scoffs, shaking his head. “They’re gonna escape Corio. Leave the districts. And I’ll be helping them.”

Coriolanus sucks in a breath, “is Y/N all in this too?”

God, he hoped Sejanus said no. But then again, it’d give him an advantage if he had said yes.

“She is,” Sejanus says, continuing to tell Coriolanus of the plan.

Without Sejanus knowing, Coriolanus had tuned the jabberjay so it could record back the whole conversation. When Sejanus finally leaves, Coriolanus sneaks to where the train bringing the birds back to the Capitol stood, placing the jabberjay in it to send it to Dr. Gaul.

If anything, Sejanus was a blocking point in Coriolanus’s way, and getting rid of him and you were like killing two birds with one stone.

- - -

The next day came and you were peacefully talking to one of the younger girls in the district when you’re suddenly pulled away along with Sejanus.

“Hey! What the hell!” You scream, thrashing in the unfamiliar peacekeeper’s hold. “Get off me!”

You and Sejanus struggle, and Coriolanus almost wants to step in and get you out of his fellow peacekeeper’s arms. Almost.

“Coryo! Tell them they’ve been mistaken!” You cry out, locking eyes with your so called lover.

“You two have been charged with treason towards the Capitol.” The peacekeeper says, his cold gaze and strong hold on you makes you let out a whimper.

“Treason?” You say, “there has to be a mistake! Call my father! Call my father!”

“I’m afraid your father can’t get you out of this one, Miss. Cicero.”

He drags you and Sejanus up the main stage of the district. “Everyone! Pay attention! This is what will happen if you are disloyal to the Capitol!”

Another peacekeeper points a gun behind Sejanus’s back as the peacekeeper who was holding you earlier pokes your back with the cold metal. You felt terrified gazes of the citizens of District 12, including Lucy Gray, stare at you.

“CORYO! TELL THEM!” You scream, begging with your eyes. “Coryo, please. Please.”

But Coriolanus Snow stands still in his spot, not budging a thing.

You thought he had loved you—or at least, cared for you. You gave him shelter when he was at his worst, you gave him your virginity, you held him when he cried about how unfair Dean Highbottom was, you let him into your home, and you always were there for him. You practically did everything for Coriolanus Snow. And what did you get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Your Coryo won’t save you.” The peacekeeper snarls, before firing the gun.

Two gunshots go off, and the body of yours and Sejanus fall to the ground in an instant.

Coriolanus Snow almost wants to barf, his eyes closed for a minute before reopening them again.

Had it really been worth it? Ratting you and Sejanus out so he could get home to the Capitol faster?

He thinks so when your family and the Plinths give him their fortune as a thank you for being such a good boyfriend and friend towards their son and daughter.

If only they knew, though. But Coriolanus would never let that happen, because no matter what, Snow lands on top.

And this? It was just the beginning.

#coriolanus is so mitski coded if he wasn’t a launtic #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games x reader #the hunger games x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine

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aklaustaleteller · 8 months ago

Note

heyy how are you! i have this idea that wont leave my head, the reader is scared of love and runs away from it and keeps pushing anyone that tries anything away, but klaus does everything to prove to her that his intentions are pure, and after he does with a little while, she find out about him being a hybrid (maybe she gets really scared) and he has to grovel his way into her life

Mendable Inside Your Ribs

Y/n, all her life, had reached for love and then felt her white-knuckled dying grip on it slip. Then suddenly, Klaus comes in her life looking like the light at the end of the tunnel – and maybe, just maybe, their monsters have more in common than they originally thought.

Warnings - Mentions of animalistic urges, monstrosity, blood, wounds and bruises but it's all in a metamorphic manner (well, except for the blood)

Word Count - 3.2k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

Finally, Anon, I'm posting your request! I'm so sorry I took so long, but I truly hope that you find the wait worth it once you're done reading this! I could've written this in an entirely different and simpler manner, but I was already half-way through it already written it in a poetic/metamorphic way, so I hope you guys still enjoy it for I am quite proud <3 Please do tell me if you do!

Y/n, all her life, had reached for love and then felt her white-knuckled dying grip on it slip. So many times had it happened that now she was found sat with her hair tangled, dried blood and dirt on her face and inside her nails with crooked teeth, clawing at her own skin sitting in a corner, rocking herself back and forth to comfort herself as she saw love creeping towards her with a smile so sinister that it could make shivers run down the devil’s spine.

From her parents shaming her for wanting something so simple as love, to her romantic partners who’d always stumble a couple steps back upon realising just how hungry she was for love – how animalistic she could get just for an ounce of it.

All of it turned her into a person as cold as a tombstone standing over a dead person’s grave, unfeeling and unmoving.

But when she would feel, it felt like her own heart was pushing her head under the water, holding her in there until she had only one more breath left in her. It made her want to snarl and to hiss, to bite and to claw at the person who made her heart leap out of her chest.

Which would then make her turn and run the other way as fast as her feet could carry her, back to the corner where she belonged. Sometimes she would raise her head and look at the walls inside of her, reading the numbers she had madly tally-marked on them to keep track of just how many days she had kept herself chained there. And somewhere along the passing time, she’d begun defeatedly losing count.

Yet as she sat in that very corner and raised her head this time, she saw something bright. Almost like a light at the end of the tunnel. So she’d gotten forward on her hands and moved on her knees, curiosity pulling her forward until she reached the border which she’d have to cross to get to the other side.

And that’s when she saw him standing there – Klaus Mikaelson. Smiling down upon her like she was the cutest lamb he’d ever come across, instead of falling backwards because he actually saw the love-hungry animal that she was.

So, she had taken it upon herself to back off, and ran away from him. But horror crept over her and held her tight when she saw that he had followed her back inside, back to her corner where she resided.

“Love,” she heard him whisper as he brought his open hands in front of him, wanting her to place her own calloused ones in them and come with him.

But she never did, always turning away with a growl so that he’d leave. But every time she’d look his way to check if he’d finally left, she’d find him still standing there, with that same smile and those same open arms.

“Go away, Klaus,” she said coldly, looking away so her dead eyes wouldn’t have to witness hurt flash through his starry eyes.

He wanted nothing more than for her to see herself the way he saw her. Wanted for her to know that he was the one who’s undeserving of her love, actually. He was the animal here, not her.

But she profusely denied all of his pleas and begs, holding herself strictly uptight so that she wouldn’t fall into pieces upon him and crush him under the weight of all her grief, anger and tragedy.

He just couldn't seem to get through to her, no matter how hard he tried. So he just decided to remain persistent, and show her how truly pure his intentions are via small acts. Like buying her gifts that he knew would matter to her, such as those small plants that never grow, or random postcards that he knew she put up on her walls, or books that he’d annotated for her to get her to take a glimpse into the way he saw her.

But sometimes, those acts got rather intimate. Like that time he brushed her hair for her for a week long when she had broken her wrist, or that night when he took her feet in his lap to massage them gently after she’d given her best performance on stage. Hell he’d even gone as far as to cook for her on especially hard nights so that he could feed her his love.

And maybe he was just growing delusional now, but he was beginning to feel like she was taking down her walls around him brick by brick. She no longer glared at him with those ice cold eyes when he would enter into a close proximity to her, nor did she sneer at him to go away.

Instead, he saw her eyes grow a little wider when he’d enter the same room as her, the dead stare tucking itself away for other people as some life took a dive in her eyes. And he heard a lullaby in her voice when she’d greet him back, her body turned towards him and eyes on him to give him all of her attention.

That’s how he knew that he had brought her away from that corner and back to the very border, again. And he also knew that he now had to tread carefully so that she wouldn’t go back, tumbling away from him.

And Klaus didn’t know if the Salvatore brothers telling her all about the supernatural world, about who The Klaus Mikaelson was, was his fault or not.

But what he did blame himself for, was for lowering his guard when he’d brought her just one step away from crossing the border and loosened his grip on her because the moment she was told about his past, not only did she go fumbling back but she also left crescent moons dug in his shoulders from when she’d been shaking him, sobbing loudly and crying out for him to tell her that all of it wasn’t true.

But Klaus couldn’t lie to her, so he’d stood frozen with tears spilling from his eyes as she ran back to her corner, tally-marking another day after so long that her eyes had taken a moment to adjust to the darkness that surrounded her again, this time, more like an evilly laughing capturer instead of holding her in it’s arms like a pitiful mother.

Y/n awoke this morning with her eyes puffed up, it happened every time she went to sleep exhausted out of her mind. And as the flashes of last night began reeling through her mind again, her eyes grew moist and her vision grew blurry while she climbed down the stairs to go into the kitchen.

Grabbing a glass of water she chugged it down, leaning over the sink and mumbling to herself that everything was fine, that she was fine. Her eyes remained shut but tears slipped out regardless, sniffling sounds echoing through her house as she tried not to retain any of the information that had been dumped on her.

“He’s a …hybrid,” Stefan had said, looking at her through his lashes like he was talking to a child about how tooth fairies aren’t real.

“And what’s that?” She asked, a feeling in her gut telling her that it was, in no way, a sweet creature.

“He’s half vampire, and half werewolf,” Damon finished saying behind her.

Breath was knocked out of her lungs at that. She’d always had her suspicions about some certain people surrounding her, like Stefan and Damon themselves, but never once had she felt anything remotely scary when Klaus would stand in front of her.

Perhaps it was because of his big starry eyes, and those unruly blonde curls that he kept trimmed for some reason. Or those dimples that would shy away from her gaze and that mouth which would always stretch into a smile upon her sight. Or, those hands that held her so gingerly, and those feet that held the weight of her body as he carried her home.

And maybe it was the fact that he’d never once told her about this himself, that hurt the worse. He had lied to her, or kept the truth from her, dare she say to defend his honour. But it felt like a punch square in the chest when she learned about the blood that stained his hands, his clothes, his face and his mouth.

Despite that horrifying revelation, she had run straight to his home and shouted at him to come outside. And the moment he had, she was pushing and shoving at him, putting her hands on his shoulders and shaking him, crying – “tell me they are lying! Tell me that you aren’t what they say you are, that you have no blood on your hands!”

“Tell me!” She had broken down, resting her head on his chest as she let out the sobs.

“Tell me this wasn’t your intention!” She shook him again and Klaus had opened his mouth to agree with her, but she had fallen to her knees then, looking up at him with tears staining her cheeks and blood swirling in her eyes.

“Please don’t take me home,” she had told him despite the hot tears streaming down her face and fog settling in her mind. “I can never go home now,” she whispered, scared.

Home was something that was supposed to be a constant in one's life, that one returned to every single day. And there hadn’t been anything like that for her until Klaus. And now that the shelter of his frame had been uprooted and thrown away, cold rain scraped at her skin all over again as she scrambled around to find her corner to go back to.

She didn’t want that corner to be her home but time and time again, it was proven to her that it was – whether she liked that or not.

Taking deep breaths to gather herself, Y/n went back up to her room to get ready for the day – knowing that all she was going to do was read and write and water her dying plants and maybe bake some biscuits that she was never going to get Klaus to taste now.

And just as she came back to make her first cup of tea, she heard a hissing sound and turned to see a paper that had been folded into half. It had been slipped in through the crack underneath the door.

She picked it up and opened it, immediately recognising Klaus’ handwriting.

Y/n,

I know I’ve wounded you deeply by keeping who I truly am from you. But spending so much time with you, I’d somehow mistaken myself to be just the Klaus Mikaelson that you saw. I'm the one who’s wrong at that part, forgive me for it. I never meant to lie to you, perhaps, I was waiting for the right time. But it’s never the right time, is it? I’ve learned that now.

And while I’m sure the brothers told you enough, I’d still like to introduce myself to you all over again. This time, by laying all my defences down. I should’ve said it then and there, but something came over me and I couldn’t form words. But I hope you’d believe me when I tell you that hurting you was not my intention – it’s something far far away from what I truly do intend.

My family is hosting a traditional ball tonight. Please save this sick lover of yours a dance. And, you need not fret for I have brought you a dress, come outside?

Yours truly,

Klaus

A deep weight rested itself on top of Y/n’s chest as she slowly walked towards her door, and opened it. She’d been expecting to see Klaus, but instead there was a box on her porch with a silk bow resting on top of it. She sat down and brought it to her lap, opening it to reveal a blue dress, folded neatly inside the box.

She knew she was going – there was no doubt about that. But what did gnaw at her, was the chance of what would happen when she’d get there. She wanted to accept the feeling that told her he wouldn't hurt her. And yet, a tremor coursed through her body as she sat and sipped on her tea, waiting for the evening to roll around.

She wanted for him to unleash himself and show her who he truly is, so that she can love him for him. She didn’t want to fall in love with just his bruised upper skin – no. She wanted to get to know him, inside and out. Wanted to know what his guts found intimidating and what his soul found peaceful.

But if he wasn’t going to show her that, then nothing could ever make her clean herself up and rid herself of all the wounds that had been inflicted upon her, so that she doesn’t bleed on him from the cut that he didn’t inflict. She had a feelling that maybe, just maybe – there monsters had more in common than they thought they had.

There must be a reason behind the blood tainting his skin, perhaps, it was thrust upon him for all she knew! Maybe he didn’t want to be the monster that he had been turned into.

And if that’s true, Y/n wondered if she would still want to unravel him if it turned out that he was just a monster that had no other driving force apart from some personal fun.

So she dressed herself up for the night. Prepared to listen to him and ask him questions if he wouldn’t have answered them already in his explanation.

Entering the mansion that she always ran far away from, Y/n took a huge breath before wandering her eyes around to search for the one and only. And It didn’t take long before their eyes locked, with him already looking at her with rather guilty eyes and a relieved smile for she had shown up.

Walking to her, Klaus took in a shaky breath as he fixed his suite. He was nervous, hell, scared even. Honestly, terrified that tonight might be the final time he would see her and the final memory he’d have of her would be of her sprinting away from him for she couldn’t bear the sight of the ugly monster he had ended up growing into.

“You came,” Klaus smiled, looking at her with those same starry eyes except tonight they were shining because of the sheen layer of tears glossing them up.

“You asked me to,” she shrugged faintly, her mouth cold to sight but her eyes were big and almost smiling up at him.

With her hand still in his’ from when he had bent down to kiss the back of it, Klaus walked her over to the vacant balcony – nothing to witness the tragedy but the sky that had itself gotten dressed in its best constellations and ornament, the moon.

Klaus wanted to believe his heart when it told him that she would listen to him and try to love him, but his head’s juxtaposition was not gentle. It prepared him for the worst, reminding him of how no one had ever loved him before, and no one would now. For all that was true, he had only gotten worse over time.

“To hurt you, was never my intention,” he whispered, his big eyes looking into hers.

“It is true that I am a Hybrid – a vampire and a werewolf. It is also true that I’m covered in blood from head to toe, from my bones to my skin, I am drenched in it.”

His legs were growing jittery and breathing was becoming harder to do than it should be. But his hold on her hand only tightened, tears collecting on his bottom lash line.

“It is true that I am a monster. One with a heart that doesn’t beat and a soul that feasts upon the love it never gets,” with his free hand, Klaus wiped the tear as it slipped down the slope of his cheek.

She only stood still in front of him, urging him with her eyes to go on. Her own breathing ragged as she began seeing him and listening to him

“But I need you to know, before you leave tonight,” his voice shook as he stole his eyes from hers for a second to gain back his courage, as all of it had been spent the moment he mentioned her inevitable departure. “That I would never hurt you, I never can, hurt you,” he assured her, searching her eyes for anything.

“I truly am in love with you. And I will take forever to show you that if that’s what you’ll ask of me,” bringing her hand to his chest, he rested it there. “I want you to lay yourself bare in front of me so that I can show you that even your ugliest is loved by me,” he whispered.

“Say something, please,” he almost cried, his voice cracked, not having anticipated her departure to come so soon.

“I –,” Y/n began, her voice hoarse due to not having used it for so long. “I think I can love you, Klaus,” she uttered, looking away from his eyes, fearing that he was going to deny her heart upon realising just how ugly and bruised and beaten it is.

Upon the realisation that sure, her insides are a million colours – but they are all shades of blue.

And when the deafening silence got too much for her to bear, she turned away from him to make a run back home.

But her hand felt to have gotten caught in something and she was pulled right back, into a hard and vulnerable chest as her mouth felt something soft press itself hardly against it.

Klaus’ mouth.

His mouth was on hers and one of his hands was curled against the back of her neck while the other cradled her face with force.

Everything inside of her erupted into flames as she tilted her face to better mould it against his’, and fisted the curls on the nape of his neck, pushing him further into her while bending her back to accept the force.

“Say it again,” he breathed, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on hers, his tears slipping from his eyes and falling onto her cheeks.

“I think,” she exhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath while her eyes remained stuck on his mouth. “I think I can love you,” she confessed again, instantly moving her lips in sync with his’ as he kissed her desperately, finally.

“My heart – it is shabby and broken but it’s already yours,” she choked out. “And it’s only mendable inside your ribs,” her shoulders shook as she cried, now fisting the shirt of his collar to keep him close to her.

“My love, your heart – it, it is safe with me,” he breathed with her, trying to calm his racing heart down. “And my heart will forever beat on your command,” sniffling, he tucked her hair behind her ear, gently lifting her face to seal his confession by breathing in her breath and letting her take away his’ as he pressed his mouth against hers, once again.

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lady-of-glass-and-bone · 2 years ago

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Duck! Hope you are having a good weekend!

Bex! I had a decent weekend, kinda think my truck is gonna fall apart at any given moment fucking potholes but other than that it was good!

#bisexual-horror-fan #oh hi!#i am going to read after the lamb bites back very soon #my brain is being weird and i can't just sit and read sometimes #but when i do #oh boy #duck quacks

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ovaryacted · 2 months ago

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JAGGED EDGE

─ QZ Joel Miller x f! reader || WC: 900

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Age gap implied. Possible dub-con. Rough sex. Degradation. Dom! Joel. Dom/sub elements. Hair pulling. Daddy kink. Joel is a meanie & a big scary man. Ambiguous/toxic relationship.

A/N: This is literally something I wrote and typed out based off of this singular picture that was shown to me. I had to do this, for the people! Proofread by moi.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Joel was pissed.

Coming back to the QZ with less supplies than he’d like had him on edge, a shit deal led to two less bullets in the magazine of his gun. A waste of his time, a waste of his energy and whatever fucking else he managed to have left in this dying world.

The parasitic things around him continue to take, and take, and take until he’s a dog fighting for scraps again. He’s already worked for the current rations he has, bribed or killed for the rest, did whatever he had to do just to get by and ignore the stench of rotting bodies he has to dig up and burn. He’s already dealing with enough, he doesn’t need to lose any more of what he had.

At least he had you.

Steady. Solid. Real. The only constant in his world, something so tucked away from other people's grasp they couldn’t tell the difference between their Joel and your Joel. He holds you at arm’s length, just close enough to let you touch him, but far enough to consider you an outsider, another survivor amongst the rest of the poor unfortunate souls that seek purpose with death creeping around every corner.

Though the moments where he grants you closeness, you don’t take it for granted.

Pliant. Malleable. All for him to have and to hold. You’ve come to learn that Joel was a naturally rough man, all of him was. You can’t blame him, he was a product of the losses that haunts him in his nightmares, slowly chipping away at his wavering humanity one death at a time. A predator with razor sharp teeth containing a bite full of jagged edges. You just happened to fit the role of his prey, a lamb that has ventured too far from the herd, ensnared in his grip with no way out. Not that you’d ever want to leave.

His molars grind in his mouth as he growls from behind you, the pistoning of his hips filling the dingy apartment with an audible slap of skin. Large hands kept you pinned by the neck underneath him against the tattered mattress, your nails digging into the comforter as Joel pummeled into the arch of your back. Every brutal thrust he gave you sent you inching higher up on the bed, spine curved to keep your ass high in the air, right where he could see you at your best.

The glistening skin of your pussy wrapped tight around him, clutching at his cock every time he slipped out just to punch back into you with a snarl, your body wishing to keep him inside for as long as he allowed. His heavy balls slammed into your pulsing nub with each resounding drill of his hips, amplifying the sensations and sending you closer to your impending release.

Joel fucks without mercy, his touch as ragged as the rest of him. But this was your Joel, and you loved him in any way he came, in any way he’d allow. After all, you weren’t given any other option.

“Joel, please…” your gasp was followed by a moan, eyes rolling to the back of your skull when the tip of his length kissed your cervix with precision. You shrieked as your head was quickly yanked backward, thick digits pulling on the strands of your hair, now wrapped around an iron fist.

“Please what, hm? What does my fucking slut need from me this time?” He bit harshly beside your ear, the tone of his sharp voice forcing your walls to clench around him.

“I need to cum,” you cried out meekly, his unforgiving pace had your eyes fluttering, wishing you could look at Joel at this angle, but he wouldn’t let you get more than what he decided was enough. He tugged at your head harder, the pain rushing to your sensitive nub between your thighs, throbbing from his intensity.

“What you need is to take what I give you. You fucking got that?” Joel muttered next to your temple, your heart pounding in your ribcage at his command.

“Yes.” Another forceful jerk to his body made you jolt, deepening the curve of your back.

“Yes what?” The gears in your head began to turn, finding the right words in the back of your mind to avoid pissing him off any further.

“Yes daddy.”

He slams you back down to the mattress with a groan, grabbing hold of your hips and fucking into you with such force you know you’ll be left with an ache in your pelvis afterwards. You know he doesn’t mean to be so aggressive, that’s just who he is, it’s within his nature. You understand him despite others viewing him as anything but human. A man with so much blood on his hands shouldn’t have the ability to make you cry for him, to make your body sing and crave him when he deserves nothing of the sort.

Yet when the textured tips of his fingers reach your slick pearl to circle it with intention, sparks fly under your eyelids and you spill around him with a loud wail of his name, tears stinging the corner of your eyes as you fall apart. You’d consider it an act of kindness on his end, the only time you’d ever think the man, or any man, touched you with such reverence.

He’s rough all around, but perhaps you’ve always liked them that way.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedrohub #ovaryacted drabbles #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years ago

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wait, did the second book of blossom ever live up to the first? looking for the wisdom of bex's reccs since I haven't seen that much talk about it compared to the first 🫶🏻

Okay, okay Anon! So to be totally honest I haven't read After The Lamb Bites Back by Kate Winborne yet because I wanted to re-read and annotate the updated hardcover edition of Kate or @xmichaelmyers first book Blossom first.

But now I have done that! I love Kate and I love her book and the characters and I feel totally ready to dive into the next book! Now I am gonna do it a bit differently, I am going to give updates in much smaller chunks as I am going along to pull everyone else along for the ride with me! I am going to have a tag just for this so anyone who doesn't want spoilers can blacklist it for safety's sake. My tag for ATLBB will be "Bites Of Bex" since I will be giving you all updates in little bites, cute right?

Seriously you are gonna hear alllll my thoughts about this book and how it stacks up, just you wait! I intend to start reading and getting into it this Sunday so watch out!

Also, also, I have a request in my inbox I intend to write after reading the second book. Who here wants porn of our favorite man whore Henry Williamson? Because you are gonna get it from me! Read the books before or wait for my porn and let it convince you to read them, it's up to you!

#BHF asks #Blossom #After The Lamb Bites Back #ATLBB #Kate Winborne #Bites Of Bex #I cannot wait to get into it

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Matchmaking Buns: Part Two

Part One

What the bunnies look like

The evening of the promised dinner comes faster than you’d anticipated. With every passing minute, you flit from one end of the house to the other, adjusting pillows, checking on the simmering dishes, and shooing your furry “helpers” out of the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time even if they thump at you. Between binkying across the living room, flopping lazily on the rug right on your path, and trying to sneak nibbles of any available furniture, your bunnies are in top form, thriving in their role as resident chaos agents.

Finally, the doorbell rings. You wipe your palms on your jeans, take a deep breath, and open the door, immediately greeted by four towering figures who seem somehow even more imposing in their casual clothes. Johnny’s already grinning, Kyle’s soft smile is reassuring, Price has a hint of amusement in his eyes, and Simon—well, Simon is as inscrutable as ever, though his gaze lingers on you for just a beat longer than expected.

“Welcome! Come on in and, uh, make yourselves at home. You’ll be sharing the space with the true homeowners, of course,” you say, gesturing toward the four bundles of fluff darting around underfoot, raising their heads in curiosity. “Don’t worry, they’ll give up the prime seats… eventually.”

Price chuckles, stepping into the living room as your spotted holland lop scurries past his feet. “I was almost expecting to see little bunny-sized chairs around here, the way you talk about them.”

“Careful, you’ll give her ideas!” Johnny laughs, watching as your grey Flemish giant noses around his ankle, clearly demanding a greeting. He squats down to give her a gentle scratch behind the ears, and she leans into his hand with that smug satisfaction only a beloved pet can have.

You usher everyone toward the dining table, where a spread of your best dishes awaits. You won't lie; you are extremely proud of what you'd prepared: a platter of roasted herb-crusted lamb, tender and drizzled with honey-balsamic, sits as the centerpiece. Nearby, creamy wild mushroom risotto with parmesan shavings, its earthy aroma irresistible. A vibrant salad of mixed greens, heirloom tomatoes, and crumbled goat cheese (it was a nightmare making this one with the way your bunnies were almost ready to paw-fight you for the greens). There’s also warm, crusty bread with rosemary-infused butter, and a golden vegetable gratin with layers of zucchini, squash, and potato, bubbling with creamy gruyere.

The smell of the food finally entices your bunnies to settle by your feet, eyeing the proceedings with their usual mix of suspicion and entitlement. Simon, catching sight of your mini-lop sniffing determinedly toward a bowl of the salad, picks up the bowl and sets it just out of reach with a faint smile- he has taken off the mask, and you have to tell yourself not to stare too much at how pretty he is.

“Thanks for sparing me from his wrath,” you say, laughing, after clearing your throat. “He’s usually the one ringleading all their mischief.”

The meal kicks off in earnest, and you’re surprised by how quickly everyone relaxes, including you. Price sets a warm tone, regailing you with stories while Johnny occasionally jumps in, keeping everyone laughing and chuckling. Kyle is quieter but genuinely interested, asking about the bunnies, your garden, even your job. Every now and then, you catch him sneaking tiny bites to one of your rabbits, who’s stationed at his feet, looking particularly pleased with itself.

“Looks like they’ve already trained you all,” you joke, nudging Kyle’s elbow as he hands over a piece of carrot to your flemish giant. You've been keeping an eye on them, ensuring he doesn't give them too much.

He grins back, his eyes twinkling. “Guess it’s hard to resist them when they give you those eyes, yeah?”

You sigh, directing a mock glare at your rabbits, who blink innocently back. “Tell me about it. They know exactly what they’re doing.”

As the meal goes on, you feel a shift in the atmosphere- an easiness and familiarity you hadn’t expected to find so soon. Simon is quiet, but every so often, you catch his gaze resting on you, his expression thoughtful, almost… fond. You’re not entirely sure how to read it, but each time, you feel a flutter of warmth. Price seems equally at ease, laughing and sharing stories that, more than once, have you all leaning in closer. Even Johnny, whose teasing often has you blushing, seems oddly protective, always ready to interject if you look the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Finally, as the dishes are cleared and the bunnies settle into a post-feast nap near your feet, you sigh contentedly, leaning back with a soft smile. “Thank you guys again, seriously. That rescue was above and beyond. I owe you all big time.”

Simon, who’s been absently petting your mini-lop, looks up, his gaze steady but warm. “Just watch out for them next time, yeah? Or you’ll end up owing us another dinner.” There’s a subtle tease in his tone, a faint spark of humor that catches you off guard from a man like him.

You roll your eyes, laughing as you try to brush off the warm flutter in your chest. “I suppose that’s fair. But if you all had fun tonight, maybe we could make this a regular thing?” You don't know why you suggest it, but the second the words are out of your mouth you regret them. They won't accept, this was just a "thank you and sorry for the trouble" dinner and-

Johnny’s grin is immediate, stretching wide as he exchanges a glance with Price. “You dinnae have to ask us twice, lass,” he says, his accent rolling thick and smooth. There’s a softness in his expression, a warmth that makes your cheeks flush. He winks, and you catch yourself stifling a giggle, relief blooming in your chest and making it easier for you to breathe.

After dessert (and showing them all the spots, nooks, and crannies you've made for your bunnies), they prepare to leave. Johnny gives your Flemish giant one last scratch behind her ear, and she rolls her head down to give his palm sweet little licks. Kyle leans down to scoop up your mini-lop, placing him gently back near the others, his fingers brushing yours for a moment too long. “You’ve got a good thing here,” he murmurs, smiling as he watches your sleepy bunnies pile together. “It’s nice to see someone care so much.”

Flustered, you smile back, stammering a little. “Thanks… they’re, uh, a handful, but they’re my little family.”

Simon, who’s already by the door, pauses, his gaze on you softened by some unreadable emotion. “Just keep us in the loop if they escape again, yeah?”

Your heart skips at his tone, low and almost teasing. “I’ll make sure to notify the official rescue squad.” You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to hide your grin.

As they finally step out, John turns back to you. His eyes are crinkling at the corners, and he holds your hand up to kiss your knuckles. "Next time, we'll be the ones to take you out, luvie."

Not a request, but he is simply telling you. (Un)surprisingly it has you blushing and nodding.

You watch them head down the driveway then, and for a moment, you stand there, caught somewhere between disbelief and hope. There’s an undeniable warmth in your chest, a realization that maybe this isn’t just about the bunnies after all.

When you finally close the door and glance down, four sleepy bunny faces stare up at you, blinking in unison as if to say, “You’re welcome.” Shaking your head, you scoop up the nearest one, your toasty holland lop, kissing it on the top of its soft head.

“Thanks for the assist, you little terrors,” you whisper, grinning. “Now I have a dinner to look forward to. Perfect.”

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nothomegal · 1 year ago

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HIII I MISS YOU :(( straight to the point, I need a yandere pyramid head fic!!

I´m sorry for the disappearance ;v; Can't post much due my studies.

Anyways, I ADORE your suggestion! And boy if our little (Y/N) is going to have a rough time with a yandere creature like Pyramid Head ._.)

Welp, let's start the story!

"Innocent lamb"

(Yandere!Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Summary: the entity's realm was hell for some, heaven for others, and an inconvenience for the rest... But when one of the creatures encountered you, he made it everyone's problem, even the entity's that brough him there in the first place. But he meant no harm to you. He likes you. He wants you. He needs you. And he wͦ̀ͯi̸ll̩ͩ have Y̛̗̰͇͚͓͈̣͕̰͓̗͛ͤ̀̇̍ͥ͒̓͝Ơ̵̔_̰̅U̵̷̡̧̡̨͖̟̹͙̙͓̥̗̫̣̙͉͕͉̣̬̇ͭ͗̉͂̅̍͗̇̇́́̈͟͞

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, violence and violent acts, quite angst(y) mood in general, (understandably) terrified reader darling :(.

Word count: 4.2k

The moment they entered the trial, all four survivors knew right away who the killer was. Either its the dread they all felt as soon as their feet made contact with the ground that gave it away, or the fact that the entity had placed all of them in the same spot next to two generators just to have any chances to make it out alive.

But they know it's in vain, they know they're doomed for a long long death by bleeding out.

They know it... Because (Y/N) is with them.

Said survivor had to bite their lip to avoid crying, as guilt and terror embraced them. Just because the monster had this unholy obsession with them it didn't mean they were okay with it, if anything it scared them more.

He, Pyramid Head, the Executioner... Or however you want to nickname him, is said to be one of the most powerful creatures the entity had the pleasure to bring, so powerful in fact that the spider-like being had to make a deal to bring him.

So it's not surprising that they are absolutely horrified, but who wouldn't? This monster, an embodiment of pain and punishment, almost a god, has been hunting them relentlessly ever since he laid his gaze or... Helmet? On them.

At first it was all jokes and gags;

'Aww look, (Y/N) has a boyfriend!'

'Watch out, here comes your crush (Y/N)!'

'Uh-oh, the triangle man seems jealous, look how pissed he is at Nea for healing you!'.

But the jokes stopped when it got clear how truly messed up and sinister said 'crush' is.

They still remember it, it was a regular match against that one masked knife wielding guy that runs a lot, he's called 'Legion' they think. The trial was going relatively well, just like many previous ones. Until it suddenly got an 180° turn when one of the walls to the realm was literally destroyed by a hulking mass of muscle and a giant knife. To say both (Y/N) and the killer nearly had a cardiac arrest was an understatement, things got so ugly that the entity had to intervene and cut the trial short.

That incident could be a fuel for a new wave of jokes, could... If it didn't happen again. And that next time was even worse, the beast nearly made his way into the survivor side of the realm, somehow bursting through the barrier the entity had created to keep the survivors separated from the killers to avoid any pity fights after trials.

Ever since that event, Pyramid Head was strictly kept in 'his' realm, aka Midwich Elementary School.

Sometimes, after escaping through the gates and running back into the camp through the fog, (Y/N) could swear they can hear the monster roar in the distance. Loud, distorted and fierce howls resonating somewhere behind the dense fog, as if the creature was desperately trying to yell out their name. Either to let them know how badly he wants them or a promise to break free and get them... Both possibilities giving them chills.

The entity of course wasn't okay with this, it was pissed! But it also could do so little... The great deal now had turned into a major curse. If the deal is broken, the Executioner won't hesitate to damage the realm to get what he wants. But if it remains, the monster will find new ways to bend the rules and make it everyone's problem.

Why the entity doesn't just give (Y/N) to the beast or gets rid of them ones for all? No one really has the answer. Some think it's due the entity's pride, or the possibility of the executioner going ballistic. For now, it's more of a silent (and petty) battle between two stubborn beings, each of them refusing to back away from their goal.

Goal. The entity's goal, though still confusing, is more or less clear; force people and creatures to play these twisted games and feed on those who get sacrificed. But the executioner's goal? It's straight up a mystery. (Y/N) know it has something to do with them, but... Why them exactly? Why not Cheryl? Didn't she come from the same place as that beast? What the monster even wants them for?

What will he do when he finally gets his hands on them? Wh-

A rough shake snapped (Y/N) out of their internal break down.

They blink a couple of times, tears of fear nearly sliding down their cheeks as their body shivers. They were scared, more than the other three survivors combined.

The survivor holding them by their shoulders, David, sighs when he finally notices them react.

—"Look, I know you're scared..."— he starts talking, his voice surprisingly calm.

—"I'm-... I- I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry-..."— you choke out in a weak wobbly voice, guilt eating you from inside.

—"No no. Just listen for a sec. I... Well, we all can tell that you aren't enjoying it neither. So, let's not break down into a soap opera, okay? Don’t think of this as hopeless match, but as another chance to woop that asshole's ass and escape."—

—"And also leave him empty handed!"— Feng announces from her place while already working on a generator.

—"Yeah, screw that triangular piece of shit! Let's try out Dwight's strategy this time. You remember it, do you?"— he asks you, not letting go of your shoulders yet.

The surprisingly positive and reassuring words of their teammates towards them really soothed and even cheered (Y/N) a bit. With a small smile they quickly wipe their eyes before nodding.

—"Good, see? We're already starting on a good note!"— he lets go to then pat your back, basically pushing you forward. —"Now go help with a gen before putting the 'plan' into work."—

Though the push hurt a bit, (Y/N) didn't care at all about the pain, too focused on keepings all the negative and pessimistic thoughts away.

For the first minute and a half everything was going well, (Y/N) and Feng were working on one generator while David and Jonah were working on the other one. The four of them were dead silent, straining their ears for any of the sounds the creature makes, such as heavy footsteps, the scraping of his gigantic knife or their own heartbeat. Weirdly enough, everything was calm... Too calm.

(Y/N) nearly choked with air when a cold chill ran through their spine.

Spine Chill. The beast... Is watching them.

They attempt to subtly alert Feng by carefully tapping her leg, but as soon as their fingertips touched the other girl’s skin, their heartbeat started to get louder and louder, until…

—“WATCH OUT!”—

(Y/N) exclaimed as they pushed Feng, just in time to dodge a bunch of sharp and rusted metal pieces coming out the ground.

—“Holy-...”— she mutters.

Now that the monster is here, the four survivors decided to put in action the mentioned strategy.

They all let go of the generators and run away in different directions, (Y/N) being the most desperate while running since they know exactly who the beast is targeting.

His pattern is always the same; chase after until sending them into a cage to then down all of their teammates and then come straight back to all caged and helpless (Y/N) and then… Stare or touch them until the others bleed out or the entity has enough.

The difference in the current case, is that (Y/N) is not playing just cat and mouse. In fact, chasing them is the worst the killer can do. All of their abilities are chase oriented, another teammate lurking around has all the boon ones, while the last two have all is needed to rush through the generators. If everything works out, the monster will get himself in a situation where he's be forced to leave (Y/N) alone.

The chase was intense, at least for (Y/N). Despite never catching a clear view of the Executioner, they could feel him close behind, following them methodically like a wild animal on a hunt, waiting for the right moment to strike while keeping up the tension.

It was hard to maintain the focus, every single hallways in The Game looked the exact same. Did they vaulted that window already? Didn't they pre-dropped that palled over there? Did Feng placed it up again? Are the other two working on the generators? Have they taken this left path before?

So many questions where swarming their mind as their legs kept carrying them on, only momentarily relaxing when two generators finally made that distinguish noise.

Two done! Tree left.

A breathless laugh escaped from them. Great! This is already going better than all of their previous encounters with the Executioner, which would always end with the first generator barely reaching 30%.

However, their smile was quickly swept when they realized they no longer hear their heartbeat or thundering footsteps tailing behind. It was silent, dead silent, with no other sounds that their own breathing.

A wave of anxiety flushed through (Y/N) like a tsunami wave and started to drag and drown them deeper into their own worries.

What the?... Okay, this was not part of the plan. The Executioner had never left the chase with them, never. So the fact that he finally did, and apparently a while ago, made them shake.

With nothing else to do, they gather the courage to start moving again. Where? Somewhere! Anywhere but to stay in place and be an easy target to the beast that so desperately wants them.

They keep running, stopping only for a brief moment before turning a corner, making sure they don't hear any muffled breathing that at times resembled growls. They learned the hard way with the Shape that some killers like to wait around corners, and they don't want to commit the same mistake right now.

Their heart jerked when they heard a scream resonate from their left, and a faint reddish aura in the shape of a human gleamed for a second before disappearing.

David is down.

And it seems like he's not getting picked up, which could either mean that the monster is setting up a trap or chasing someone else. Whichever the case is, they shouldn't go-

They hear a bunch of footsteps come their way, and in a set of panic they crouch behind a bunch of boxes, silently praying that their disguise is mildly good.

They can't see much from their spot, but they can clearly recognize the shape of Jonah running away from something massive.

As soon as the two figures passed by, (Y/N) gets up and takes off running towards David to check on him.

After some wondering around the labyrinth-like place, they finally reach their injured teammate, who was still on the ground and groaning from pain.

—"{David!}"— you whisper-yell as you start running towards him.

He weakly lifts his head just enough to see them. When he recognized who it is, he starts to frantically shake his head.

—"NO! GET THE FUCK OUT!"—

Huh? What-

As (Y/N) is about to reach David, a path of sharp metal pieces and razor wires had emerged right in front of them, just when they're about to make contact with the floor again, making in impossible to dodge.

The second their leg got tangled into the sharp metallic mess, everything went too fast. They don't even have time to pull away as something sliced them on their side, sending them directly on the ground.

They send a guilty and ashamed glance to David, who had an frustrated expression.

—"{Sorry...}"— you mouth.

(Y/N) has no chance to see David's answer as a massive hand suddenly curled around their throat and forced them to look away from the other man.

Their eyes wide at the sight of the beast menacingly hovering over their helpless form, holding their body in place between him and the ground. The muscles of his extended arm were tense, his breathing heavy, almost like he's holding back the anger and displeasure caused by them giving attention to someone else.

Their heart skipped beats, their breath uneven, their eyes watered as they tightly closed them, not wanting to witness whatever this thing was about to do. They can feel the warmth coming from his body, his breathing slowly stabilizing, as if staring at them and watching them slowly submit was enough to calm the monster. Ironically, it did the complete opposite to (Y/N), as their own heartbeat raised from the anxiety of having to face the unknown, attempt to predict the unpredictable and prepare to witness another massacre unfold around them at any second... Just to then end up caged and at the mercy of this-

—"LEAVE THEM ALONE ASSHOLE!"— David angrily yells from his place, struggling and trying to stand up. —"You're fucking terrifying, of course they don't want to look at you!"—

They can feel Pyramid Head's hand tense and start shaking, his fingers twitching and pressing further into their skin. (Y/N) was beyond terrified now, just a little bit of pressure and the creature could crush their throat like a cardboard tube.

David, though clearly using all of his strength, ended up falling back on the ground, as if some invisible weigh is actively pushing him down.

—“You freak! Absolute sick fuck! Let them go already!”—

As the waterfall of profanities continues, (Y/N) slowly places their hands around the monster’s wrist to attempt to push his hand away, unfortunately he didn’t budge at all.

Suddenly, David’s stops screaming and the very next second (Y/N) feels something warm and slippery press against their cheek.

They jerk in place at the uncanny sensation and shoot open their eyes, a breathless gasp escaping them at the sight of a… Wh-What even is that? A freaking tentacle? A tongue?…

The dark pink muscle wiggles in front of their face for a moment before licking another stride, wiping some of their tears and blood in the process, making (Y/N) shiver in discomfort.

They shoot a confused glance to David, desperately wanting to know if he’s witnessing this too. The man had an expression of pure ‘what the fuck’; eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and mouth slightly gaping.

This eye contact was brief though. (Y/N) got startled for a loud growl that reverbed from the beast's chest and helmet. The hand finally leaves their throat as the beast stands up to his full height and starts making his way to David, leaving them alone, as well as his knife?

(Y/N) throws their teammate a scared look, but David responds with a forced smirk.

—"Ah, now you decide to drag your big ass towards me."— he mutters through gritted teeth.

The monster seem to not react to his taunts. With each step that he takes towards David, his mask of confidence seems to crack.

Nevertheless, the man didn’t back out from his insults, he never does.

—“What’s wrong? Why so pissy, huh?! Jealous that (Y/N) prefers us?!”—

Saying their name was a sore spot to hit, and the way Pyramid Head reacted confirmed that.

The monster roughly grabs David by the neck, completely ignoring the fact that he’s not even holding his weapon. Instead he uses his bare hands to silence him.

Nasty, wet and crunchy sounds resonated through the room and hallways as the creature began to tear the man’s body limb by limb, piece by peace, unbothered by the pained screams of his victim or the low groan of displeasure that resonated from above for again not playing by the rules.

(Y/N) froze in horror at the sight in front of them. Blood, chunks of flesh and bone pieces where flying everywhere, never before they’ve witnessed this type of gore, not even during the ‘mori’.

Though it felt like the massacre lasted hours, it was actually second. The monster threw the whatever remaining he had in his hands and slowly turned back to (Y/N), who was still frozen and unable to look away from what was left from David. They know they will meet again in the fire camp, in one piece and alive, but god they felt sick...

Their shock breaks only when the thundering footsteps began to resonate again, shaking the ground underneath them with each the creature took. He grew closer, and closer, with them being able to do absolutely nothing aside from attempting to crawl away.

But that pity attempt was stopped when the same sharp wires and rusty metal pieces emerged from the ground and wrapped around their body, pulling them slowly underneath and sinking them further into the ground. And before they realize it, their body is already trapped in that rotten metallic cage.

Cold metal spikes just inches away from their flesh, so close to penetrate their skin, a wrong move and they would undoubtedly get hurt. But even if they wanted to move, they couldn't really. The space in the structure was small, claustrophobic even, each spike perfectly adjusted to keep their form in place. In some twisted way, it felt like a hug, a very cold, unwelcoming and unnerving hug.

They flinch when they hear a scream resonate from somewhere, which was cut by a loud slam.

Feng was caught.

It seems like the Executioner didn't bother to down her, rather getting rid of her directly, most likely because he's aware that Jonah is not keen of going for rescues...

And speaking of the man, there is his aura flashing before (Y/N)'s eyes as his body fell on the floor.

He's down... Which means that-

Before they even finish their conclusion, the tall figure of the monster appeared. Just by looking at them his behavior seemed to change; movements more erratic and pace uneven, almost like he's hypnotized.

He makes his way to them, slowly, as if purposely building up the tension.

(Y/N) wanted to look away or close their eyes, but whenever they did so the cage felt painfully small. It hurt, literally, so they stare at that beast grow closer with wide shaky eyes that struggled to keep their focus on him. This is something Pyramid Head was always good at, he could always make you fear, even the toughest bravest ones would inevitably succumb to the terror his presence brings.

Ones in front of them, the creature stops in place and simply stares, like he always did.

(Y/N), though still scared, was a tiny bit relieved that this is what the rest of the trial would be; them being pinned like a butterfly with the monster observing.

It would be just that.

Just this bizarre staring contest.

...Right?

WRONG.

The creature suddenly let go of his weapon and grabs the edges of the cage with both hands quite violently.

Now the little hope and comfort (Y/N) had was thrown out the window, as now they realize they no longer have any idea of what will happen next.

And by what it looks like, the entity is not planning to intervene, as if curious itself to see what will happen next.

Pyramid Head remains like this, his big hands tightly squeezing the imperfect metal bars, bending them slightly and making the already miserable looking material groan from the pressure he was applying.

It looked like he wanted to destroy that cage, rip it apart and get to them, but didn't do it by holding himself back... Why? What's even the point of this build up? What's even the point in wanting them?!

—"{Wh-...Why?...}"— you choke out in a very quiet voice. —"{Why a-are you d-... doing this?...}"—

(Y/N) knows is stupid to ask, Pyramid Head can't even speak! But they can't help themselves, they're too scared, their anxiety is unbearable and their thoughts are too out of control. They need answers, anything that could even hint for a possible explanation of the killer's intentions.

They began to second guess their decision to speak when the creature froze in place, even his breath was now inaudible. This was the first time (Y/N) spoke directly to the monster, but they didn't expect him to react at this fact, not like this, or at all.

But he did, he did acknowledged that little detail, and he will make sure they acknowledge it too.

The creature soon moves again, by slowly leaning closer and slightly tilting his head to the side, almost like trying to get a better look at them.

His breathing got heavier, low huffs and growls resonating from that metallic helmet of his. It really looked like he was actively holding back some major urge or desire, but what it is?

(Y/N) wanted to ask again, but decided against it as there is little Pyramid Head could do to answer, and even if he could, why should he? Maybe it's more amusing to him to see them helplessly wondering in the dark and unable to comprehend what's going on.

Or maybe, there is simply nothing to explain?... Maybe he does what he does just because? Human mind is way too used to seek for reasons and explanations for anything and everything, often forgetting that sometimes the answer is way too simple or straight up null, could that be the case?

The same groan coming from the cage bars pulled (Y/N) out of their thoughts. They forget how to breathe at the sight of the structure slowly collapsing as the monster starts to rip the bars with his raw strength.

A scared yelp escaped them as they try to back further into the cage as much as they can, ignoring the sharp edges that scratched or pierced their body. They barely felt pain, none at all actually, the adrenaline and basic survival instincts keeping their body resilient and ready to run. The sad part is, is that there is nowhere to run, nothing to do. It's sweet that their body tries so desperately to keep their hopes up and reassure their survival, but their mind is more than aware of the cold desolated reality...

The front part of the cage was eventually ripped off and thrown against the floor violently. (Y/N) can only cover their eyes with their hands and quietly sob as they wait for whatever the monster had planned to do next.

Even when no further actions are made, they refuse to look. They no longer want to face this thing, they no longer want to suffer this torment. Regardless if they believed in any religion or no, they mutter silent prayers under their breath, but not no save them, but to make it end and to know how sorry they are for any evil or harm they've did in their life that leaded to such tragic conclusion.

But this is where the catch is... They've committed none. At least from the Executioner's perspective.

Despite their whispers being so silent to a non-existent point, Pyramid Head heard them loud and clear. And the more he heard their voice, the more he felt the inside of his chest burn and the desire for them grow even more. (Y/N) is not perfect, they're human after all, and all humans have their fair share of flaws and defects... But unlike the rest, (Y/N) has the ability to acknowledge said imperfections and genuinely try to make up for them, to fix them... Regardless if they get something in return or not.

This, this is the true purity in a human being. An innocence and kindness so genuine that it would be a sin not to worship and protect... And who is a best fit to take care of it other than the fearsome Pyramid Head?

(Y/N)... So pure... So innocent... So kind... He must keep them save.

He must keep them...

He wants them...

W̴͕̳͈͔̭̝͠ͅ a̶̩̰̲̎̓͊̈̓̕ ǹ̴̢͇̬̘̗̯̜̍̋͊͠͝͠ ṭ̶͇̃̔͝ s̶̭̩͔̹̝̼̅̍̆̉͌͝

As the monster is about to reach them, a spider like legs burst out through the floor and wrap themselves around (Y/N).

The trial... Is over.

And while the absolutely livid roar gets overshadowed by the groans of the entity as the black fog surrounds the whole place. (Y/N) only keeps quietly sobbing as they cling to the spider leg sticking out of their chest. And though they knew the entity is the main responsible of their current torment, they were too overwhelmed with emotions to properly process their actions.

Surprisingly, the spider-like being didn't disappear right away, probably feeling pity for their situation and allowing them to cry for a brief moment, most likely to compensate this unplanned mess they have to deal with.

To everyone's surprise in the camp, when (Y/N) finally arrived they where unconscious, either passed out after such emotional roller coaster or the entity wants them take some genuine rest. Whatever the case it, it didn't matter, what matters is that their fellow friend is back save and sound, right?

As one of the survivors decided to take them closer to the bonfire for warmth and comfort, they could swear they heard some weird noises from afar.

It resembled a demonic cry filler with rage, so distant yet menacing. Everyone instinctively shivered.

And though (Y/N) successfully 'survived' yet another trial with the executioner, almost everyone had the gut feeling that the next encounter they have with the beast, it will not end good...

They all take a glance at their still unconscious form.

Poor (Y/N)...

#nothomegal ask reply #nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #pyramid head #pyramid head fic #pyramid head x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #gn reader #dbd fanfic #dark romance #dbd x reader

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beenbaanbuun · 8 months ago

Text

punishment - opposites attract universe

words - 3.9k

genre - smut

warnings - fem!reader restraints, riding, guidance, cumming in underwear, the usual nicknames (dove, darling, lamb, good girl, etc), nipple play (m!receiving) insecurity, comfort sex, creampie, clit play, i think thats it but please tell me if otherwise!!!

“You can tie it tighter than that, dove,” Hongjoong sighs, sounding almost disappointed as you try your hardest to pin his wrists to the headboard. A part of you wants to look behind you to where Seonghwa sits comfortably in a nearby armchair, but even with your most pathetic pleas, you doubt he’d be willing to step in and help. This is your punishment after all. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it. “Especially if you're going to use this flimsy stuff; I like it to bite a little.”

He thrusts his rigid cock up against your bare core as he says the word bite, the pearlescent liquid that spills from the tip smearing messily against your clit. You bite your lip to withhold the moan, but it doesn't matter; Hongjoong can read the pleasure on your face loud and clear anyway. It's in the way your eyes flutter closed for just a second or two, brows furrowing and forehead wrinkling. He chuckles teasingly, taunting you with the fact that even though you're the one tying him down, he still has the power.

“What, did that feel good, dove?” he asks, a smirk evident in his tone. You don't respond, unsure as to whether or not you’d be able to keep yourself from breaking down and begging to switch places with the man. Instead, you simply huff out a breath and open your eyes, ready to get back to the task at hand. This won’t stop until you make him cum, and devils below you need this to stop.

You weren't made for this. You're a taker, not a giver; built to lie there prettily and moan and cum until your mommy and daddy are satiated. How you long for your lovers to tug at you until you're lay how they want, for Seonghwa to pin you to his chest as Hongjoong buries himself in your pussy, for Hongjoong to whisper sweet nothings whilst Seonghwa fucks Hongjoong’s load back into your weeping hole. Maybe you should’ve thought about that before giving Yeosang that blowjob in the dining room.

Maybe you should’ve tried harder to convince San not to say a word.

Seonghwa tuts behind you, returning your mind to the task at hand. The pretty pink ribbons won't tie themselves around Hongjoong’s wrists and you know that. It doesn't stop you from letting out a pathetic whine though. “Don’t start with me, Lamb,” he purrs dangerously, “you put yourself in this position, not me,” he takes a sip of his red wine, smacking his lips before swallowing it down. You can't see him but you just know that the red stain he’d bound to wear upon his lips must look immaculate. Demons, how you want to be in Hongjoong’s position right now. “It's hardly my fault you think you’re too good to obey instructions. Now hop to it, Darling; the sooner you do what you're told, the sooner this will all end.”

He’s right, you admit to yourself as your fingers begin to work on the knots again. Just make Hongjoong cum and this will all be over.

You tug on the knot to tighten it, sparing a glance towards Hongjoongs expression every now and then to try and gauge it correctly. It doesn't go unnoticed by him, the man’s smirk growing with every passing look in his direction. It's the same look he gives you when you're writhing beneath him, whining out ‘daddy’ as you beg for more. He’s in charge then, just as he's in charge now. He might be the one getting tied up, but he certainly isn't the one who's going to be crying before the night is over. What’s a punishment without a few tears here and there?

“Stop looking at me and focus on the knot,” he says, his tone cocky and annoying, “you’re big and brave enough to play with your pet without permission but you have to have reassurance when you're tying a pretty little bow? Where has all that boldness gone, Dove?”

Being bold is the last thing on your mind right now. Tie the knot, make Hongjoong cum, get pampered for being good and taking your punishment well; that's all you care about right now. You can be a brat another day, at this exact moment in time, you just need to be good. You give the knot one last sharp tug before deciding that's enough. You finish it off with a bow before slipping a finger beneath it to test the tightness. It's what Seonghwa always does when he dresses you up in pretty bows purely for the purpose of gazing upon you like you're a work of art. It only feels right to give Hongjoong the same treatment.

He gives you a pleased hum, his wicked smile morphing into something much softer for just a moment or two. Had you blinked, you would've perhaps missed it. You’re glad you didn't.

“Bold isn't what I would call what our precious Darling did, Mi Amor,” Seonghwa says. The chair creeks, the sound of Seonghwa standing echoing around the room. Your breath hitches in anticipation as the familiar click, click, click of his healed pumps grows louder and louder. You feel his breath brush against your bare skin as he leans down, “Keeping your escapades a secret is hardly something a bold individual would do, now is it Lamb?” His saccharine voice sticks to your brain like melted candy. Gone is his usual kind sweetness, replaced with something artificial and too good to be true. It's a stark contrast to the barely-there kiss he presses to your cheek–a reminder that you’re still their good girl, even if they are being a little mean.

“No, mommy,” you whimper out just as he pulls his face away from yours. There's a chuckle, more akin to his regular cadence than you expected. It's soft and buttery and warm, everything you know Seonghwa to be outside of punishments. You melt as he dives in for another kiss, nuzzling his nose against your temple in a way that has you forgetting that you're even in trouble in the first place.

“Good girl,” he whispers into your skin, cushiony lips tickling your skin before pulling away once more, this time for good, “It's a shame you only start behaving when you have to face the consequences of misbehaving, though. You have to be made to squirm a little before you decide to listen, hm?” a hand trails its way up your spine making you shudder. The way you grind down on Hongjoong is unintentional, but it still fetches a deep guttural grunt from his lips. It stops your heart in place, the sound so beautiful that you think it makes you fall in love with him all over again. It's nothing new; each day you find something like that. Something that makes your heart speed up in your chest just like it did when you lay eyes on them for the very first time.

You want to do it again, but Seonghwa’s fingers move up to the back of your head and lace themselves in your hair. You brace yourself for the tug that’s bound to come any second now. It still makes you wince when he tightens his fist.

“Now behave for me, won't you? Ride your daddy until he fills you up nice and full of cum, Lamb,” the hand that isn't in your hair reaches over your shoulder and dives down until it's resting atop your tummy. He drums his fingers against the plush flesh before letting them come to a standstill just below your navel. “It shouldn’t be so hard since you obviously know best. You’re so independent, right? You can do this without our help.” And just like that his touch is gone and he steps away. You hear him retreat back to his chair, the creak of the old leather letting you know when he’s sunk back down onto it.

It feels bizarrely lonely, in a way. Sitting there with no soft touches from either of your lovers, having to move and think for yourself. There's no warm hand to hold your waist and guide you, no whispers in your ear to send your overactive brain silent. You're cold and lonely and devils you're thinking way too much. You want it to stop, so with a shaky breath, you use Hongjoong’s chest to stabilise yourself as you push your hips up. With one hand you line yourself up with his cock and sit, moaning as he stretches you out. It's a little painful; they normally spend an age prepping you before even thinking about using their cocks. Perhaps they thought you and Yeosang had gone further than a simple blowjob. Maybe they didn't realise you hadn't already been opened up.

“So tight, darling,” Hongjoong muses, his face screwing up in pleasure as he bottoms out, completely sheathed within your walls. You do what you assume is the right thing and tense around him; he gives you a moan and you can't help but let it inflate your ego just a touch. It might be easier than you assumed to make him cum. Maybe you’ll be in his arms before you even know it! “But I don't recall you being asked to just warm me up. Ride me, pretty girl. Make me cum inside your tight fucking cunt, hm?”

You almost whimper at his instructions. Despite your newfound belief in yourself, you still don't want to be in this position. Your cunt might be stuffed full but you still feel weirdly empty. With a sigh, you remind yourself that the quicker you make him cum, the quicker you get taken care of. You brace your hands on his chest and grind your hips against his. He gives you a contented groan, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure.

You can do this; you can get what you want.

You continue to move your hips back and forth, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as the pain slowly turns into pleasure. It's not hard to find a careful rhythm but it certainly is to maintain it. The moment his tip grinds up against that divine spot within you, you stutter, your movements almost lagging for a moment or two before the man beneath you bucks his hips up into yours. It serves as a reminder of your task, and you return to your prior pace once more.

But it's not enough. Hongjoong is moaning and sighing but the longer you continue the more you become aware that he is no closer to orgasm than he was when you started riding him. In fact, that initial motion, the first grind of your hips; that's probably when he felt it most, the urge to spill his seed inside of your tight hole. You can move as much as you want, change your pace as often as you feel necessary, but nothing is going to alter the fact that you simply cannot make him cum.

It's a harsh reality to face, and you can’t help but let it go to your head. You feel almost worthless, although that's probably too harsh of a word. Useless may be more suited to the emotions rushing through your body. If you can't make Hongjoong cum then what? You don't cook or clean, or provide any income. You're not as business-minded as Hongjoong and you don't have the tender touch that Seonghwa gives to all his plants. You’ve never been skilled at following instructions and caring for people like San is and you can hardly fill Yeosang’s shoes when it comes to being, well, Yeosang. What exactly are you good for?

It's almost laughable, the idea that something so small could set off a whirlwind of insecurity in your mind. You can't make your lover cum by yourself, so what? It's not like you've never made him cum, right? You made him cum just this morning… You try and hone in on that, but it doesn't quite work. If you make him cum by lying there and looking pretty, are you really making him cum at all? Or is he making himself cum using your body…

Your hips come to a standstill, your pelvis sinking down until all your weight rests on Hongjoong’s. “I can't make you cum,” you state simply, “I'm trying so hard and I-” your voice cracks and you have to stop to suck in a deep breath. One that you hope will clear the lump in your throat. It doesn't, and you can't swallow it down; you squeeze your eyes shut and the dam just… breaks. “I can't make you cum, Hongjoong.”

You miss the way he winces at the sound of his own name. It's something so small but it feels so wrong to hear it when his cock is buried deep within you. Perhaps it was the sound of the blood rushing through your ears that blocks the sound of him whispering the word back to you as his face grows concerned. Your gaze drops to his stomach and you don't see the worried glance he passes over your shoulder to his husband, still nursing his wine with a thoughtful look on his face. Seonghwa frowns as Hongjoong, usually so sure of himself, looks to him for guidance. Truth be told, Seonghwa needs guidance in this situation too. He glances at your sad form and-

Oh…

Guidance.

“Lamb,” he coos as he rises from his chair, voice soft yet somehow still dominant. There's no hint of condescension left, nor is there any sign of teasing; it's just pure, undiluted Seonghwa. Like a warm shower, it washes over you and you heave in a sob. So gentle, so kind, and for what? For someone who has no use outside of sitting and looking pretty. You hate it. “What's wrong with my precious girl, hm? Since when did you doubt yourself so much?”

The click, click, click of his heels rings through the room again, except this time its less like the daunting countdown of a ticking time bomb and more like the familiar grandfather clock that sits just down the hallway outside of Yeosang’s room. It brings you comfort, acting as a palm tree in your tsunami of emotions. You grab onto the sound and don't let go until it suddenly comes to a stop by your side. Your heart stops as the sound stops, but then a warm pair of lips descend on your cheek and everything is just a little bit better again.

“Since when does my darling Lamb give up just because you can't do something?” a finger trails up your spine, stopping just as it reaches the nape of your neck. It twists itself into your hair, tugging just enough so that your eyes meet Hongjoong’s again. Big and brown and full of empathy. Your heart breaks for him; he shouldn't feel bad for something that's your fault. “My lamb killed nearly all the cacti in her Mommy’s greenhouse just because you wanted to learn how to garden; you haven't given that up even though your newest cactus is waterlogged and rotting.”

Try as you might, you can't see the relevance of Seonghwa’s anecdote. So what? You're bad at gardening; it's just another thing to add to the list.

“And you've not once beaten your Daddy at a game of chess, have you?” he gives you a beat or two to mumble out an affirmation, taking that time to kick his shoes off and crawl into the bed himself. He positions himself right behind you, one hand still nestled in your hair, holding your gaze on Hongjoong, and the other snaking its way around your waist. “Yet you don't let that stop you from challenging him to a match every single day, my love. You know why that is?”

You shake your head and Seonghwa gives you a little chuckle.

“Because you just don't give up, Lamb,” he pushes his chest flush against your back, grinding his own body into yours to guide your hips. Hongjoong grunts as Seonghwa forces you to pick your movements up once more; slow and sensual yet somehow still firm, just like the man himself. “I actually don't think you're capable of knowing when to stop,” another roll of his hips has Hongjoong’s cock bumping into your most sensitive spot. You break your sad little sniffles with a moan. “Sometimes you just need a little guidance in the right direction, Lamb.”

With Seonghwa rutting against your back, you find it a little easier to let go. To let your thoughts melt away into whispers as you let the pleasure fill your mind instead. They’re still there, reminding you that even now you're not the one giving him pleasure and pushing Hongjoong to the edge. Ever the empath, though, Seonghwa puts your mind at ease with a series of kisses to your jawline. When he bites down just below your ear, it's like those thoughts never existed in the first place. You moan, the sound of it blocking out the bad.

Hongjoong purrs beneath you, chest heaving beneath your hands that are splayed across his pectorals. You get an idea which you execute without a second thought. He'd just look too pretty with crescent moons painted across his pale skin so you don't even try and stop your fingers from curling and your nails digging in. He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes scrunching closed with some sort of masochistic pleasure. That part was all you, you tell the cruel thoughts in your mind as you drag your nails down his chest to make him whimper. The sound he makes as they catch against his nipples is unholy, as are the soft moans Seonghwa chants into your ear each time his hard cock presses into your lower spine.

The voice in your head goes silent.

“Fuck, dove,” Hongjoong voice is strained, barely breaking through the string of grunts and curses he lets out every time your fingers brush against the stiffened buds on his chest, “so good; you're so good. You're our darling, aren't you?” you nod, fully convinced that every word he tells you is the truth, “say it, dove. Tell us you're our darling.”

“I’m your darling,” your voice catches as Seonghwa snakes his hand down to your pussy, fingers spreading your folds until you’re sure Hongjoong has an unobstructed view of your swollen clit. A lithe finger begins to toy with it and your body goes limp in Seonghwa’s grasp.

“That’s it,” he murmurs as his finger moves expertly against you, “you're our darling, aren't you? So good for us, letting us push you around and please you. Letting us use your body to pleasure ourselves,” you moan in sync with Hongjoong, punctuating his sentence, “so what you're not good at riding yet; I can name a million other ways you make us happy.”

As if to emphasise his own words, he sighs into your ear, the motion of his hips becoming sloppy before stopping entirely. His breathing is ragged in your ear as he frees the hand from your hair and moves it to your hip to continue guiding you. He came, it seems, messily in his panties in a way that seems so unlike his tidy nature. The implications have you blushing; it seems as though he just couldn't hold himself back.

You don't have long to dwell on it though, not with the way his hands draw you back into that relentless rhythm and his fingers draw pretty pictures on your clit. It has you melting all over again, barely giving you time to form a relevant thought before making you squirm on Hongjoong’s cock. You're close, and you can tell your Daddy is too. It's written on his face, clear as day.

Hongjoong bucks his hips into yours just as Seonghwa leans in to place a few kisses against your temple. It's sweet, but it's undercut by the familiar warmth that fills you up, erupting from the cock that your daddy keeps nestled tightly within your cunt. You bite down on your lip to hold your own moan back, wanting nothing to interrupt the beautiful sound Hongjoong makes. Seonghwa’s movement slows to a stop, letting you just warm his husband’s soft cock for now.

“Beautiful girl,” Hongjoong breathes out, chest heaving and eyes glazed over with adoration, “the prettiest place for me to put my cum, aren't you.”

“So pretty,” Seonghwa agrees, speeding up his fingers in just that right way to make the knot in your stomach tighten, “and so good, taking her punishment like the good girl she is.” He taps his finger against your clit and you can't help but squirm. Hongjoong growls, bucking his own hips from the overstimulation. Seonghwa giggles prettily as he draws you further and further to the edge, “Tell her she's a good girl, Mi Amor.”

“Such a good girl.”

You pull in a breath as you feel your orgasm wash over you like a wave. It pulls you down into the depths of pleasure, filling every cell of your being with that familiar buzz that comes hand-in-hand with good sex. You feel it every morning, every night, your two—and a half, if you count the werewolf who is no doubt pacing outside the door, meagrely awaiting his own punishment—lovers taking such good care of you. They fill you with their seed, remind you of your place between them, push you to your limits before bringing you in with endless amounts of love. They take care of you, and it finally seems to click in your brain that that's your place in this weird little family; they take care of you, and they want to take care of you. They like it. The part of your mind that says otherwise sinks into oblivion along with the remnants of your orgasm until all that's left is you, empty-headed and panting in Seonghwa’s arms and on Hongjoong’s cock.

Exactly where you belong.

Hongjoong lets out a chuckle, breaking the silence that had settled over the three of you, “well that was certainly eventful,” he says as he tilts his head back to get a view of the knots you tied. Despite being tighter than you originally intended to tie them, it's easy for him to slip free. Such a gentle little creature, he muses to himself, a dove through and through, “You seemed to have a lot on your mind; would you care to share?”

He takes a moment to move his hands, easing up the stiffness in his wrists before they travel to your hips and interlock seamlessly with Seonghwa’s. They hold you like you're porcelain, precious and priceless. It makes you light up inside.

“Yes, lamb,” the man behind you sighs, “I’d rather like to know what happened. I knew you weren't exactly going to enjoy being on top, but I never expected it to affect you quite so negatively. What exactly is going on in that precious mind of yours?”

You hum as you lean back against his body, wishing he wasn't still wearing clothes so you could feel just a smidge of his soft skin against your own. You'd have to make do with the warmth that permeates the silk; it's just enough to have you curling into his frame. “Nothing anymore,” you say, truthfully, “it was just a lapse of sanity; nothing for you to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa asks.

“Positive,” you giggle, wriggling gleefully on Hongjoong’sover-sensitivee cock until he frees his hand from Seonghwa’s and places a light spank upon the flesh of your thigh. It isn't enough to rid you of your giddiness, but it's certainly enough to still your movements, “I think you fucked the insanity out of me…”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez smut #opposites attract universe #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #matz x reader #poly ateez smut #poly ateez x reader

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moonsaver · 5 months ago

Text

Warning: yan!moze, suggestive

Moze keeps to himself for the most part. Especially after he has you in his grasp.

When he's met with your displeased face, or angry tone, or disappointed silence, he returns it with patience. He knows you're having a hard time settling in after the abrupt turn of your life by his hands. He keeps his distance.

But sometimes, he can't keep to himself.

He lets himself cut corners. A sharp nail running up your bare back, making you squirm and eventually lash out at him. Lingering hands on the sides of your hips or waist, firm grip on your shoulders when he leans down to smell the shampoo from your hair. He doesn't mind that you struggle, since it'll be over soon, and you can go back to being angry at him or give him the silent treatment.

At times, he breaches boundaries.

It's usually late at night, when he comes back home, covered in blood and roughed up from an especially hard task. You wake up, but don't dare move in your bed when you hear his heavy footsteps (you count your lucky stars that at least he doesn't come quietly, because he could if he willed. You wonder if it's because he wants you to hear him). Your back is turned to him when he sneaks into your bed, wrapping a firm arm around your waist, pressing up his solid chest against you. You can feel him pressing soft, yet dangerously hungry kisses on your neck, to your shoulder. You can feel his teeth and damp, hot breath when he trails up to your jaw – like a lamb waiting the wolf's mouth. Teeth itching to bite, but not yet. Tender flesh exposed and laid bare in front of gnarled teeth.

You're scared one day he'll devour you whole, and you won't even see it coming.

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animeshotsh · 1 year ago

Text

The day i got a new uncle!! | Vox x Kid!Reader

Vox claiming that yes, kid!reader its totally his.

Warnings: HH violence-cursing- Kid!Reader bites Valentino - Everybody freaks out - Lucifer snaps - Charlie snaps - Alastor its all for the drama - Vox has a crush on Alastor - Protective!Alastor - Protective!Angel Dust - grammar mistakes

Note: its edited, now Kid!reader does bite Valentino

The hotel was for once quiet. Like, extremely quiet. Too quiet.

"as much as i hate seeing your face, is (Y/N) with you? They have their piano lesson today" Lucifer said towards Alastor who in return smiled to hide is now nervous self.

"I tought they were with you?" The demon said turning his head to the side then sending all his shadows to look for you.

Lucifer gave him his own nervous look and went to ask the others, his wings carring him in the halls.

"Charlie? CHARLIE? PLEASE TELL ME (Y/N) ITS THERE WITH YOU" Lucifer called from outside her daugther's room only for it to open with a very nervous Charlie.

"Dad, what do you mean? (Y/N) was supposed to be out with Angel Dust for today"

"And they havent returned...?" The king asked in a worried tone.

Before Charlie could respond Alastor appear in his hand was a beaten up lamb from Lucifer.

"My shadows found your spider friend on the side of the street, and they took this back with them" Alastor trow the lamb to Lucifer who looked at it asking where you were.

"They took them, the sinner tried to fight them off but could not..."

"its Angel hurt? And (Y/N)?" Charlie asked now getting desesperated.

"I knew he was weak" Alastor said in a low voice getting a pissed look from Charlie.

"Alastor, does your shadows know where the sinner is?" Alastor nodded in return "and you, can you tell me what they looked like?"

"A big insect and a tv" the lamb said. In reaponse Alastor voice turned into static taking the lamb by its collar.

"And you did something to prevent this?" Radio deals now in his eyes "you are a creation from the king of hell but left them take (Y/N)?"

"Alastor stop!" Charlie pleaded getting the lamb back.

"They did this to get back to me" Alastor said turning to leave "i must put them in their place"

"Wait a dam minute, it may be your fault"

"Dad..."

"But im (Y/N) father and i should have prevented this. So im going to settle these sinner down myself"

"Not if i get to them first" Alastor responded baci giving out a siniter smile.

"Im coming too, we need to check on Angel"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

A few hours earlier

Angel, the lamb and you were outside doing some quick errands. You rarely got to go outside so this was an experience. Being with Angel (who you loved like a big brother) was a plus, specially when he could toss you up and get you with his four arms.

"Are you having fun?" Angel asked after stopping to get some ice cream

"Yes!! This is amazing, you are amazing, sugar its amazing" Angel could only laught at you, he was sure you were going to be running up and down the hotel later.

"Well, what do we have here? I thought you would be hiding with that princess now"

Angel froze slowly turning around, his face getting hit with red smoke, besides him a tv radio demon kept looking past him towards you.

"My, thats must be Alastor's kid"

(In some part of hell, Lucifer felt a change in the force).

"And just happened to fall right into our arms, be a good employee and give them to us Angel"

"Over my dead body"

"If thats what you want"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The others found Angel all bloody but not dead with a note besides him. He was tied up and had cuts all over him.

"Im sorry, i tried to stop them. (Y/N) tried to help me but got electroshocked" Angel lamented his hands covering his eyes.

"Angel its not your fault, im sure you did the best you could to protect (Y/N)".

Angel smiled at Charlie's words, images of you biting his Boss arms and legs going to his mind. "(Y/N) has fire on them, they were biting Valentino's so much to even draw blood" Angel comments with a fond smile getting a creepy smile from Alastor who is just proud of you.

"If you want your kid back Alastor, meet me in the V's tower" Alastor read out loud getting everybodys attention.

"Thats a trap and wait a fucking minute" Lucifer took the note, he conjured some reading glasses (that he does not need) to read the bullshit he just hear.

"IM GOING TO KILL THESE SINNERS" A very demonic Lucifer said, flamed came from his mouth at the same time Charlie tried to calm him down.

"Dont worry dad, im sure (Y/N) and manage, we need to go to the V's first"

"WHY CAN NO ONE UNDERSTAND (Y/N) ITS MY KID!!"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Turns out you did manage.

At first you opened your eyes seeing lots of lights from tvs, different sinners where showing on them. A small claw came out from your hand cutting your robes. As you were going to go outside a door opened and a demon with a ....tv as a head? Enter the room.

"Well, arent you sneaky" the tv said getting you up and inspecting you. The missmatched eye trying to get you under his influence but you just gave him a confused look.

"Did a tv fall over you to end like this?" You asked getting back an angry scowl from the demon.

"Oh im sure your father taught you that one, im right?" Vox asked moving himself to his chair getting acomodate with you on him.

"My dad does not like tvs, says its makes our brain go off"

"Yeah that sounds like him" Vox said thinking about Alastor, getting the most dreamy look on his face.

"You....you like my father?" You asked imagining Lucifer seeing this demon. If it was a demon that resembled a duck then it may have a chance but not this one.

"W-what?" Vox asked his face giving out an error signal "of coruse not, i dispise him, why do you think i kindapped you?

"....to have a chance to see him? But i believe this approach its a bit agressive"

"....kid, you have no sense of self preservation"

"...well you have no idea how love works!!"

"IM NOT IN LOVE WITH YOUR DAD!!"

"YOU KEEP SHOWING ERROR WHEN MENTIONING HIM"

Silence fell over both of you. Vox really needed to re think his life choices. You kept staring at him and it made him uncomfortable.

"But I support you, my Sis says love its love no matter your gender or lack of it"

"....thanks?" Does Alastor have another kid? Vox wondered then saw as you turned to face his monitors "are you stalking the streets?"

"What? No. Im just...collecting information" Vox simple said ignoring the sudden feeling of guilt.

"You have lots of monitors, and no one has a kid's show" you noted.

"There are not kid's show in hell"

"Of course, thats why this is hell. I got so angry when Barney was not here. It was said it was from the devil but Barney its not here"

Vox looked a bit confused at you then went to look for old record till he found a show, he sent the record to one monitor.

"BARNEY!!, thank you demon tv"

"Its Vox..."

"Thank you Vox!! Im sure my dad will love this, do you have ice cream?"

"...what flavor" Vox asked giving out to your big eyes.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Turns out Vox and You bonded well over ice cream and Barney. You kept giving him hints on how to get with your dad and Vox took notes on his screen.

He later almost breaks when you started to run avoiding objects and staff that went in and out.

"You cant help if you are dead!!" Vox screamed getting a laught from you.

"VOX WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"

Veelvet appeared in front of both of you, like a mother stopping the fun two siblings where having.

"Mmm, i dont follow?" Vox said taking you back to his arms.

"WHY ITS LUCIFER OUTSIDE OUR DOOR DEMANDING WE GIVE BACK HIS KID!!"

"Wait...this is not Lucifer's kid this is Alastor's...."

But he could not end talking when the doors busted open, a very pissed Lucifer, a demonic Alastor, an equal demonic Charlie and Angel with guns ready enter the room.

"YOU BETTER GIVE ME BACK MY KID YOU LOWLIFE SINNER" the disoriented voice from Lucifer caused Vox to tremble in fear.

"Wait!! This must be a missunderstanding, this is Alastor's kid"

Lucifer sent Vox flying to one of his monitors.

"(Y/N) ITS MY KID YOU STUPID TV FREAK"

For once Alastor liked what the king said, however he was quicker to catch up on what must likely happened.

"And i tought you watched every move i made old pald" Alastor said returning to his usual form to take you towards Charlie who hugged you and kissed your head.

"I- i have other things to do than look at-for- THAN YOU" Vox said error flashing.

"DAD HE LIKES YOU!!"

"What?"

"Oh hell no"

"(Y/N) are you hurt anywhere? Did this sinner do something to you?" Lucifer asked with worry.

"No! We saw Barney together and ate ice cream, we were playing tag before you all crushed the door"

All of them turned to Vox who gave a small grind "Hey, im not that low to hurt a kid"

"I dont believe you sinner, you were given free will and ended here" Lucifer responded making Vox shiver.

"Dad!! Wait, he has Barney and can show ducks on his monitor"

"...ok and?"

"And you like ducks right?" You said louder looking at Vox to see if he got the hint, however Vox just blushed now realising that all this time you were talking about Lucifer and not Alastor.

Fuck my life.

"Alright, since you did not hurt (Y/N)...besides that shock you gave them earlier" Lucifer snapped his fingers getting the Power of the V's off. "I believe two weeks without your program, social media out of service and you wont be able to record....adult things its enough for a greedy soul as you and the other two"

"But Sir-"

"AND IF YOU EVER TRY TO DO THIS AGAIN IM TAKING YOU DOWN TO DO HORRIBLE THINGS TO YOU THAT I CANT SAY NOW BECAUSE MY KID IS HERE"

Vox nodded, getting a nod back from Lucifer who left with you on his arms.

"BYE NEW UNCLE!! TRY DUCKS"

Uncle? Nono, Alastor was your only uncle. He turned to Vox and broke off all his monitors.

"Dont even think on getting used to be called that, only I get called uncle from them"

After all of them left Vox fell down onto the floor.

Why does the king of hell look lowkey hot and why does a real treat from Alastor get him all funny inside?

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #vox x reader

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