#Twig Village | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rapturously · 16 days ago

Text

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

2K notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 2 months ago

Text

kny men saving you

Pairings: Sanemi x reader; Obanai x reader; Rengoku x reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: near death experiences but your knights in shining armor have your back hehe, pure fluff in every part, there might be some spelling mistakes here and there, my heart is in pieces bc I deleted Rengoku's part and had to re-write it and now it's bad

Sanemi Shinazugawa

The moon hangs low tonight, its pale light pooling in the dark grooves of the forest. You always loved how tender the night looks when the full moon is out, especially during summer. It dapples your path, just barely enough to see the worn trail beneath your feet. Your sandals whisper against the ground as you clutch the heavy clay jar in your arms. It’s not far now - you know the stream is just a little farther ahead. The thought of your mother, feverish and frail in her bed, keeps you going despite the nervous twist in your stomach. You hate walking out here alone. Because even though the night looks peaceful, it certainly isn’t.

Those past nights, a lot of innocent people disappeared during night. The elders talk frequently about creatures called demons who lurk out in the shelter of the dark in order to take lives. Your mother was very clear when telling you more than once that you aren’t allowed to go outside when it’s dark, that you have to stay inside at all cost.

But does that include her being so sick that she’s barely able to move? You can’t just sit there and watch her suffer, right? You can’t just wait for something that might never happen-

A twig snaps in the distance.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. It’s probably nothing - you hope it’s nothing. But the hair on the back of your neck stands on end, and the oppressive weight of the dark seems to grow heavier with each passing minute.

The stream, you remind yourself. Get the water. Get back home.

Then the smell hits you.

It’s foul, coppery and rancid, and so wrong that your guts turn. You stumble, the clay jar nearly slipping from your grip. You freeze. There’s something ahead. No, someone.

But the silhouette isn’t really human. Too tall. Limbs too long. The gleam of sharp teeth is the first thing you make out, the grin stretching across its distorted face.

Your legs refuse to move. The demon lunges.

A demon?

Is this…what your mother always talked about, what everyone at the village warned you about countless times? Demons really do exist, that demon right in front of you is the ultimate prove for that.

You won’t be able to tell anyone the truth, though. Those sharp teeth that draw closer and closer, aiming for your neck. This is how you’ll die. Alone in a forest like so many people before you. Tears start stinging in your eyes, your throat so tight that you can’t catch breath.

Before you can even scream, there’s a flash of silver and a roar that shakes the trees. It takes you a moment to register what’s happening - the demon is on the ground now, twitching and headless. The stench of blood intensifies, and you realize it’s not just the demon’s. Your knees wobble.

And then he’s there.

The man who killed it, a whirlwind of pale scars and wild hair, is in front of you before you can blink. His blade gleams in the moonlight, still dripping. His eyes, sharp and livid, pin you in place.

“What the hell are you doing out here?!”

The force of his voice slams into you like a physical blow. You flinch, the jar slipping from your arms and shattering against the ground.

“I-I was just-” you stammer, words tumbling over each other, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Do you have a death wish?” he snaps, taking a step closer.

“Are you stupid or just suicidal? Do you know how many of those things are out here? You’re lucky that was only one!”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes. You can’t even bring yourself to speak now, your throat tightening with every harsh word he throws at you.

Are you…crying? Sanemi’s eyes narrow, mouth opening to yell again, but something shifts in his expression when he sees the tears spill down your cheeks. Fuck, how is he supposed to scream when you’re looking at him like that?

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, looking away like he’s trying to calm himself.

“Shit. Stop crying.”

You hiccup, trying to stifle the sobs that threaten to bubble up. To his own surprise, he kneels down, so suddenly and close that it startles you. His hands hover awkwardly, like he’s not sure what to do with them. His voice, though still gruff, softens ever so slightly.

“Hey. I’m not gonna hurt you, alright? Just…stop crying already.”

You nod weakly, wiping at your face with trembling hands. He sighs again, this time more resigned.

“Look,” he grumbles, reaching out hesitantly,

“I didn’t mean to scare you. But you shouldn’t be out here. Not alone.”

His hand, rough and warm, settles lightly on your shoulder. It’s surprisingly steadying, even a little bit soft. You nod again, this time more firmly.

“I…I was getting water. For my mother. She’s sick.”

He frowns at that, eyes flicking to the broken jar on the ground. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like he’s trying to figure you out. You were out there to get some water for your mother. How absolutely fucking stupid. But on the other side…he can’t help but admire your courage the slightest bit. Given your pretty weak frame and haunted eyes, you aren’t really experienced when it comes to combat. It’s obvious that you’re nothing but an ordinary villager, a girl who just tried to save her mother without having a single clue about the shit that awaits her.

Enough of that sentimental bullshit. If he looks at you one more second…

With a rough huff, he stands and turns his back to you.

“C’mon.”

You blink, trying to understand the meaning behind his rough words.

“W-What?”

“I’m taking you back. You’re gonna get yourself killed if I leave you out here.”

Before you can protest, he crouches slightly.

“Get on.”

“Wh-What?” you stammer again, heat flooding your cheeks.

No, you can’t do this. Not when he’s a stranger, not when he already saved you. He glares over his shoulder.

“Do I have to spell it out? You’re too slow, and I’m not dragging you the whole way. Now get on before I change my mind.”

Swallowing your nerves, you shuffle closer, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulders. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he hooks his arms under your knees and lifts you like it’s nothing. You’re startled by the steadiness of his grip, the surprising warmth of him despite the chill of the night. This is…the first time a boy ever touched you like this.

The walk back is quiet save for the crunch of his boots against the forest floor. You cling to his haori, your earlier fear slowly ebbing away. His presence, though sharp-edged and intense, is strangely comforting now.

When you finally see the soft glow of your village lights through the trees, relief washes over you. He doesn’t stop until he’s at the edge of your house, where he kneels to let you down.

“You’re lucky I came along,” he mutters, his voice still rough but quieter now.

“Next time, think before you do something stupid.”

You nod meekly.

“Thank you.”

He grunts, straightening.

“Get inside. And stay there.”

But before he turns to leave, he hesitates. His hand lingers for a moment, brushing against your shoulder again, almost absentmindedly. Then he steps back, his expression unreadable under the moonlight.

“Take care of your mom,” he says gruffly, before disappearing into the night.

Your heart feels a little fuller, even as your legs wobble carrying you inside.

Iguro Obanai

The wind howls against your ears as you step cautiously closer to the cliff’s edge, the jagged rocks below barely visible through the mist. It’s a beautiful view - almost ethereal. You should stop here, you know you should, but something about the sheer drop pulls you in. Just a few more steps, you think. A little closer and you’ll be able to see that gorgeous field of tulips your friends told you about.

The world seems quieter here, the rush of blood in your ears louder than the rustling trees behind you. You feel weightless, suspended between the earth and the empty sky. It’s thrilling, in a way. Comforting in depressing times like these.

You don’t notice the loose gravel underfoot until it shifts.

Your breath catches as your sandal slips, toes curling desperately to hold onto anything solid. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, there’s nothing but air beneath you, and you’re falling straight towards the tulips, straight towards certain death-

Until a strong hand clamps onto your wrist and yanks you back.

The force sends you sprawling onto solid ground, your heart hammering in your chest. You barely have time to register what happened before a familiar voice cuts through the panic, sharp and laced with fury.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You look up to find Obanai crouched in front of you, his mismatched eyes blazing with barely-contained anger. His hand is still gripping your wrist, tight enough that it’s almost painful, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

“I-I didn’t mean-” you stammer, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“You didn’t mean what? To nearly kill yourself? To fall off a cliff like it’s nothing?”

His voice rises, each word sharper than the last.

“Do you even realize how close you were?!”

Tears well up in your eyes, hot and stinging, as his words hit you like a physical blow. You hadn’t meant to be careless - it wasn’t like you wanted to fall. But hearing the raw frustration in his voice, seeing the way his knuckles are white from gripping your wrist too tightly, makes you feel like you’ve done something unforgivable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“I didn’t-”

He cuts you off again, though this time it’s not with words. He pulls you into his arms so suddenly that you barely have time to react. His embrace is firm, almost desperate, and the tension in his body makes it clear that he’s holding on more for himself than for you.

“Don’t do that again,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your hair.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Your tears spill over, and you nod against his chest, your hands clutching at his haori as if letting go would send you tumbling back over the edge. He’s warm, solid in a way that grounds you, his presence filling the air with something that feels like safety.

For a long moment, the two of you stay like that, the wind swirling around you but never quite reaching where he holds you. His hand moves to the back of your head, cradling it gently, and you feel his fingers tremble ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur again, your voice barely audible.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sighs, the sound heavy but softer than before.

“You didn’t just scare me,” he says quietly, his voice steady now.

“You almost—” He stops himself, shaking his head.

“Just... be more careful. It’s not like I’m able to be around you all the time.”

You nod, pressing closer to him. The anger in his tone has faded, replaced by something warmer, something that feels like relief. His grip loosens just enough for you to breathe, but he doesn’t let go entirely.

After a while, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands settling on your shoulders. His gaze, though still stern, is no longer angry. Instead, it’s filled with something you can’t quite name, a mix of worry and something softer, something more fragile.

“You’re not allowed to scare me like that again. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

He studies you for a moment longer, as if trying to determine whether you mean it, before nodding.

“Good.”

And then, to your surprise, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, visible through the bandages that cover his inviting lips. It’s fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, but it’s there, and it warms you in a way that nothing else could.

“Come on. Let’s get away from the edge.”

You take his hand without hesitation, letting him pull you to your feet. His grip is steady, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary as if to reassure himself that you’re really there.

“But…Why were you here in the first place?”

Obanai can’t help but get lost in a wave of coughing, his cheeks turning bright pink. Maybe, just maybe because he has his eyes on you since he can remember and never misses the chance to be around you when he’s home.

“Just…because”, he mumbles.

And as the two of you walk back toward safety, his hand never quite lets go of yours.

Rengoku Kyojuro

The festival is alive with the hum of happy chatter and flickering lanterns, their golden glow dancing across the busy streets. The air is thick with the scent of grilled skewers and sweetened rice cakes, and laughter echoes around you like a warm embrace. You pause at a stall, admiring the delicate charms on display.

You've been in love with those annual festivals since you were young, always admiring the different stalls with all the goos from far away while wearing your best kimono out.

But today was even better with that tall stranger wearing that elegant red kimono and those beaming eyes. Even though he talked louder than everyone surrounding him, you never got tired of listening to his food advice.

Maybe you should really try the sweet potatos he mentioned earlier. You lean in closer, trying to decide between a bento box and a side of sweet potatos when a scream cuts through the noise like a blade.

It’s sharp, raw, and sends a chill down your spine.

The joyous energy of the crowd fractures, shattering into chaos as people scatter. The street that had been so full of life mere moments ago is now a stampede of panicked footsteps. Vendors abandon their carts, children cry out for their parents, and the cheerful festival music grinds to a halt.

You hesitate, your instincts screaming at you to run, but your feet refuse to move. You can’t see what’s happening yet - the crowd is too thick - but the smell of blood is unmistakable, metallic and sickly sweet, twisting your stomach into knots.

And then you see it.

A demon emerges from the shadows, its grotesque face twisting into a wide, terrifying grin as it prowls forward. Its claws are long, sharp, and dripping with fresh blood. It locks eyes with you—a predator that has spotted its prey.

You freeze.

You’ve heard stories about demons. You know they’re real, but knowing something and facing it are two very different things. Your legs tremble, your heart slamming against your ribs, but you can’t make yourself move. It’s as though the world has narrowed, the monster at the center, everything else falling away.

It lunges.

A blur of orange and red streaks through the air before it can reach you.

"Do not dare to touch this lady!"

The voice is booming, confident, and electrifying. The demon’s attack is intercepted, its claws clashing with a nichirin blade that burns like fire. You gasp as your rescuer appears, his haori billowing around him like flames brought to life.

Rengoku Kyojuro.

“Do not fear!” he declares, his smile broad and reassuring even as he pushes the demon back with a powerful swing of his sword.

“You are safe now, young lady! I will not allow harm to come to you!”

He is...The stranger from before, the man with the elegant kimono!

The demon snarls, lunging again with feral speed, but Rengoku meets it head-on. His blade flashes, and sparks erupt as the demon’s claws glance off his sword. He’s a blur of motion, his strikes precise and devastating, and yet there’s something graceful in the way he moves, as though the fight is a choreographed dance he has perfected.

You watch, rooted to the spot, as he delivers the final blow. Flames erupt from his blade.

"Flame Breathing, Fifth Form: Flame Tiger!"

A fiery streak takes the shape of a roaring tiger, consuming the demon in one final, dazzling strike. Its body disintegrates into ash, leaving nothing behind but the acrid smell of death.

The silence that follows is almost as shocking as the chaos that preceded it.

Rengoku turns to you, lowering his sword but keeping it at the ready. His golden eyes scan your face, his expression softening into something kinder.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice warm, though tinged with concern.

You nod shakily, though you’re not entirely sure if you’re alright. Your knees feel like jelly, and your heart is still racing, but his presence alone feels like an anchor.

“Y-Yes. I think so,” you manage to whisper.

He steps closer, his towering frame somehow not intimidating but comforting.

“You were very brave to stay so calm,” he comments, his smile returning, this time gentler.

“But next time, it’s best to run. Demons are relentless creatures.”

“I-I couldn’t move,” you admit, shame coloring your voice.

“I froze.”

His gaze softens further, and he crouches slightly, bringing himself more to your eye level.

“That’s natural,” he replies, his tone soothing.

“Fear is not weakness. It’s what reminds us to protect what’s important.”

He tilts his head, his smile growing.

“But you’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes, the overwhelming relief hitting you all at once. Before you can say anything, his warm hand gently pats the top of your head, his calloused fingers light but grounding.

“Good work holding on,” he says quietly.

“You did well.”

Your breath hitches at the kindness in his words. He straightens then, offering you his hand.

“Shall I escort you somewhere safe?” he asks, his voice as bright and steady as the flame he wields.

“There’s no need to fear - I’ll protect you.”

You take his hand, its warmth seeping into your skin, and nod. Somehow, with him beside you, the world doesn’t feel so terrifying anymore.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @sanemifucker @blunderland

546 notes · View notes

witchesverse · 2 months ago

Text

please, don't.

pairing: agathario x reader

summary/request: you're an inexperienced witch who tried to stop her coven from executing agatha. after agatha kills them, rio appears, and that is how you meet the loves of your life. once you and nicholas die, agatha and rio part ways, only to see each other on the witches' road.

content: character death, getting shot, blood, crying, begging, angst without a happy ending.

masterlist

a/n: erm so im not entirely sure if this what u wanted but this is what i wrote anyway :> icl this is not what i normally write so if it sucks that's why lol

1693

The forest was typically quiet, the only sound being the running of water and the chirping of a bird. You loved the quiet, though. After living in a busy, loud village for most of your life; the quietness was peaceful. Plus, it gave you a chance to practice your witchcraft without someone screaming in your ear about it. But, it sometimes got lonely.

So, when you heard the loud screams and cries of a woman, it peaked your curiosity and you crept towards it.

One half of your brain was blaring alarm bells. This could easily be a trap that you were foolishly walking into. But, the other half of your brain told you that there could be someone in danger and you couldn’t not help them.

Your eyes widened. There was a group of women standing around a small stage with a woman tied to the pole in the center. The scream must have come from her.

“You stole knowledge above your age and you practiced the darkest of dark magic.” One of the women spoke. “You will be executed for your crimes, Agatha.”

Even before you started practicing witchcraft, dark magic had always been an interest for you. You had dreamt of learning dark magic and becoming a powerful, twisted witch. Now, this was your perfect chance to learn dark magic and your teacher was about to be executed.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You were positive that these witches had centuries of witchcraft on you, but that didn’t stop you from throwing an attack spell at them. You impressively managed to hit 3/6. The three witches that you hit fell to the ground and squirmed in pain.

Unfortunately, you were blasted into a tree by one of the other witches. You groaned. You felt like all your bones had been snapped in half.

Two witches lifted you to your feet and dragged you in front of the oldest looking witch. She was angry.

“Who is this pathetic excuse of a witch?” She asked.

“The hell did you just call me?” You roared. “I’ll snap your fucking neck.”

Your threat was empty. You had never inflicted such damage against a person, but you hated being called a ‘pathetic witch’. You preferred the term ‘inexperienced witch’ or ‘baby witch’.

“I’ll deal with her after this.” She waved her hand and you were dragged to a tree, hands bound behind your back with magic.

You couldn’t believe it. You had lost your chance of learning dark magic and now, you were probably going to be killed. That is beyond embarrassing.

You flinched as Agatha was blasted with six beams of magic. Normally, that would kill a person immediately, but she didn’t die. She screamed in pain but with horror, you watched as their blue beams turned purple and they had the life sucked out of them.

Their lifeless bodies slumped to the floor. “Holy shit.”

Agatha sighed, stepping down from the stage and looking contently at the dead bodies of her coven members. You accidently snapped a twig underneath your foot as you moved towards her, causing her attention to snap to you.

“You tried to save me. Why?” She asked.

“You’re unique and that interests me. Not many witches practice dark magic anymore and I want you to teach me.”

Suddenly, you felt an uncomfortable and cold feeling wash over you. You glanced around the forest until your eyes landed on her.

“I must say, that was quite the performance.”

The woman moved towards Agatha and you. There was an unsettling feeling about her - something not human.

“And you are?” Agatha questioned.

“Rio Vidal.” She bowed dramatically. “And I think we’re going to make a perfect team, baby.”

1815

You scowled and crossed your arms. You had been trying to successfully do this spell for the past 5 months, but you haven’t been able to. It frustrated you that you couldn’t do it.

Agatha kissed the top of your head as she walked past you. “You’ll get it at some point, sweetheart.”

You noticed the basket of fresh strawberries in her hand. “What’s that for?”

“We’re having a picnic.” Your eyes lit up and she smiled. “Come on. Grab your coat, it’ll be cold.”

You walked for 20 minutes until the thick trees faded and you walked into an opening. It was beautiful. You followed the trail of flowers that led to the edge of a cliff, the strong smell of wet grass and salty seawater combined with a nice breeze made you smile.

“There are my girls.” Rio sat cross-legged on one of the cushions on the picnic blanket and smiled at you. She patted the cushion in the middle and you sat down.

There were different types of fruit, baked goods, and drinks spread around the blanket.

“When did you plan this?” You asked.

Agatha sat next to you and placed her hand on your thigh. She always put her hand there; she said it made her feel at peace.

“A few weeks ago.” She answered, grabbing a grape and popping it in her mouth. “We figured you deserve a reward for doing so well in your learning.”

You kissed both of their cheeks. “Thank you.”

For a while, you talked and ate with them whilst looking out into the ocean. You excitedly pointed out every marine animal you spotted in the waves, which caused Rio to spew facts about them. After being around since the start of death, she had many nerdy facts about animals.

Once the sun had started to set, you became sleepy. Your head was resting in Rio’s lap and she scratched lightly at your scalp, lulling you to sleep. Agatha sat with her head resting against Rio’s shoulder and they quietly talked.

You sighed happily. Sometimes you thought about what your life would have been like if you didn’t try to help Agatha. You wouldn’t have met Agatha and you would’ve first met Rio once you died.

Suddenly, there was a loud scream.

You all stood and became very aware of how exposed you were in the opening. There was silence for a few moments, then there was another scream and a gunshot.

“You need to go.” Rio shoved Agatha and you towards the forest.

“What’s going on?” You couldn’t hide the panic in your voice.

“Witch hunters.”

Your heart dropped. Lately, there was an uprising in witch hunting, but you thought that you lived far enough from a village that there was no risk. Clearly, you were wrong.

Agatha grabbed onto your wrist and dragged you through the forest. You shook in fear with each gunshot and scream you heard. Even though your girlfriend was Death, death still scared you.

“Oh, and what do we have here?”

You froze and Agatha cursed loudly, shoving you behind her. A man stood in front of Agatha with his gun pointed at her with a sick, twisted smile on his face.

He pulled the trigger.

You don’t even know how your body reacted that quickly, but you managed to step in front of Agatha and took the bullet straight through your heart. You dropped to the ground, blood spurting from your chest.

Agatha screamed and blasted the boy with her magic, leaving a blazing hole in his stomach. His lifeless body collapsed.

“No, no, no.”

Agatha turned you on your back. There was blood dripping from your mouth and your chest. She couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

“Agatha.”

Rio stood next to her.

“Shut up, Rio.” She snapped. “Please, shut up.”

“Agatha.” She said more sternly.

Agatha shook her head. “You can stop this. Bring her back to life.”

Rio sighed and crouched next to your body. She tried to brush your hair out of face but Agatha slapped her hand away.

“Do not touch her.” She spat. “You bring her back to life or you don’t fucking touch her, do you understand me?”

Rio stood, her face emotionless. She stared at Agatha, almost like she was waiting for Agatha to change her mind, but once she realised there was nothing more she would say, she left.

1887

Agatha cried out in pain and leaned on a tree for support. After carrying her child for 9 months, he was finally ready. With tears falling down her cheeks, she prepared herself for birth.

She was finally going to meet her boy.

Then, she saw the familiar figure.

“No, please.” She cried as Rio stepped towards her. “My love, please don’t do this to me again.”

Rio didn’t reply.

“You took Y/n from me. Please give my boy, I need him.” She begged. “I will hate you forever if you do this.”

Rio swallowed. “I can only offer time.”

And so she did. Agatha birthed a healthy baby boy who she named Nicholas, and he lived for six years until Rio took him. Once again, Agatha’s heart broke and she was left alone.

2026

Since the death of Nicholas and yourself, Agatha and Rio weren’t in contact. Agatha hated her with every fiber in her body. Rio, on the other hand, missed and craved Agatha with every fiber in her body.

So, when Rio was summoned to The Witches’ Road, the exact place where Agatha stood, they both felt strong emotions.

“Agatha,”

It was quiet, besides the occasional snores from Alice. If you were there, you would have considered it to be peaceful and relaxing.

“I know you’re awake, Agatha.”

Rio carefully stepped over the sleeping bodies and sat in front of Agatha. She rolled her eyes when she saw that Agatha had her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

Rio flicked her forehead. “I want us to talk.”

Agatha glared at her and sat up. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Rio grabbed Agatha’s collar and tugged her forward. Agatha tried to recoil but Rio kept her close.

“Yet, there is.” She insisted. “They wouldn’t want us to be like this. Y/n would want us move on and continue living the perfect life that we had.”

“Don’t say that. You have no idea what they would want.” Agatha scoffed.

"Do you seriously think that Y/n and Nicky would want us to live with anger and hurt for each other?"

Agatha didn't respond.

Being this close to each other, Rio noticed small details about Agatha’s face. There was a small scar under her left eye that hadn’t been there before, and she wondered where she got that from.

“It broke my heart to take both of them from you. I did not enjoy watching you cry and beg, but-"

Agatha cut her off. “Once we get off The Witches’ Road, I do not want to see your face again. I want you to leave me alone, do you understand?”

Rio felt her heart break and she blinked back tears. She released Agatha from her grasp and stood. If Agatha truly didn’t want to see Rio’s face again, she would respect that, no matter how bad it hurt her.

#agathario x reader #agathario x you #agathario x y.n #agatha all along #agathario #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #bluewrites

518 notes · View notes

werecreature-addicted · 11 months ago

Note

I have been waiting for this! This has been stuck in my head since you mentioned how there's too many werewolf x bunny fics.

Imagine there's a village of prey hybrids. All the villagers that live there are some kind of prey animal.

The village is very peaceful, but is the target of a tribe of predator hybrids that dwell in the deepest part of the forest.

Every year, these predator hybrids would attack the prey village and would kidnap any villager unlucky enough to be caught.

These attacks typically happen around mid to late spring, from dusk to well into the night.

The prey villagers always hide around this time, but at least one to three people end up being taken.

Last year was one of the reader's friends. A sweet little sheep that was said to be taken by a large male black wolf. Poor girl was likely eaten by that horrible beast! (In a way she was eaten~)

This year, it is reader's turn.

Reader is a deer hybrid that got caught while out gathering food in the forest. Only to be jumped by a strong and handsome male mountain lion hybrid and taken back to his tribe.

There reader finds her friend as well as other people from her village, all well and alive and with large clearly pregnant bellies as well as a few children.

Turns out the predator tribe has been taking people from your village as their mates. Even treating their prey mates with the utmost care.

Something the reader will understand fully once she's been bred with her first litter of cubs.

your parents had always warned you to be careful when you left the safety of the village, especially during spring when nearby predators would go into heat and kill little deer girls like you to feed to keep up their strength. You were so careful, the fastest in the herd, the best at running away, no predator could ever catch you....other people weren't so lucky. Every year a few people would go missing, trail too close to the border, stay out foraging after sunset, and disappear.

Most of the time, you don't know the prey who gets taken, but sometimes you do, like when your best friend got dragged off by a horrifying wolf. You grieved the loss of your friend and redoubled your commitment to safety... but you got cocky. you were the fastest in your age group, no one could catch you, especially not some heavy, slow predator.

It's a warm spring evening, the breeze gentle and sweet, smelling like honeysuckle and green grass. the sunsets casting the valley in golden light, your basket is full of fat wild blackberries. how could anything go wrong on a day like this? A twig snaps to your right, and you turn and freeze, looking carefully at the tree line. you don't see anything... but your heart is still racing, by the time you spot the hungry green eyes peering up at you it's already too late. you take off running, but for once, you aren't fast enough.

The mountain lion pounces and lifts you off of your feet, throwing you easily over his broad shoulders, you freeze, your heart beating faster and faster, you need to think, he hasn't killed and eaten you yet- maybe you could escape, you just need to keep your head.

It's a much shorter journey to the preditor village than you would have thought, you'd never traveled far from home so you had no idea that they were so close this whole time. What's even more surprising is the amount of prey animals, wandering around town and looking happy. A rabbit boy with big floppy ears hanging off the arm of a buff-looking wolf, a deer hybrid like yourself flirting with two different lions, and a sheep- a sheep that you recognize. Your eyes go wide as it clicks into place. the people being taken weren't being killed at all.

The mountain lion puts you down and looks at you closely, evaluating you. "I wasn't too rough was I? You're not hurt?" he asks. you shake your head slowly

"n-no. I'm not hurt just- scared," you admit shyly. He nuzzles you comfortingly,

"awe, don't worry my mate, I'll keep you safe... I won't let anything happen to you, no one else will touch you while you're with me," he purrs and you shift, embarrassed to tell him that it was him you were afraid of. although you had to admit if this big scary mountain lion is guarding you, and claiming you as their mate, you do feel a little safer.

#monster imagine #monster #monster fucker #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #werewolf x reader #werewolf boyfriend #werewolves #werewolf

2K notes · View notes

kaislashes · 11 months ago

Text

You should be scared of him, should be running for your life. Everyone else has, people don’t dare walk into these parts of the forest because of him. You’ve heard the stories, the ones that foretold the beast who lurks in the forest, who howls at the moon. You were told of the ones who went, in search of berries and to hunt for meat but never came back.

So you don’t know why your curiosity won, why you’re sneaking out of your window at 2:00AM on a frigid winter night. You make sure to close the window behind you as your feet hit the ground and the snow crunches under your boots. You swiftly make your way through the village towards the wooded area 20 minutes away.

Once you reach the tree lines you look back, almost hoping someone will stop you. No one is awake at this time so you proceed forward with a deep breath. It seems like hours of wandering aimlessly through before you hear it. Snow and twigs crunching behind you. You whip around and see two yellow eyes staring at you.

You start to run, you should’ve listened. You’re dodging through the trees, looking for an exist but you know you’re lost. Everything looks the same, your lungs are starting to hurt and you feel the beast at your feet. You veer off to the left an CRASH-

A root caught your foot and tears are streaming down your face. You yelp as the beast is now on top of you, drool dripping from his mouth. You stare at it helpless, it’s a massive wolf, something you didn’t see before.

The beast uses its mouth to rip your pants off and you’re scared stiff, you don’t know what to do. You feel yourself being mounted, something poking beneath your thighs. You try to buck him off but it’s no use. You scream out as you feel it penetrate you in one swift thrust.

The beast desperately keeps pushing inside your warm heat, teeth bared against your throat. You feel disgusted with yourself as you start to feel your stomach start to pull, feel yourself getting wetter as a moan slips. The beast doesn’t seem to mind as he’s able to slip deeper, hitting your cervix repeatedly.

You feel yourself explode around him and the sensation makes you black out. You awake to an intense pressure in your lower regions and you look down noticing you’re still connected to what was a beast. You try to pull away and hear a pained grunt.

“Don’t move, it’ll hurt us both. You’ve taken my knot so well.” You hear from a man, who is no longer a beast. You feel him rub his hand along your bloated stomach.

#exophelia #monster #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x reader #terato #werewolf #werewolf x reader

2K notes · View notes

d-emeter · 23 days ago

Text

The world has gone to hell, but you've found your own paradise (or: apocalypse au with task force 141) — plus-size!fem!reader x poly!141

CW: zombie apocalypse (but no real zombies mentioned lol), allusion to smut but doesn't actually happen yet, soap being a horny bastard, implied age-gap?

HEAVILY based on the bill and frank storyline from the last of us but can be read as a generic zombie apocalypse so no worries if you haven't seen/played tlou! Also different format? Is this something?

Captain John Price who, over the years, has become a bit of a survivalist nut — a prepper, if you will.

Sure, his sergeants make fun of him for it sometimes, but he more than anyone knows the shit that plays behind the scenes, the things governments keep hidden, the threats that loom every damn day — so he'd rather be safe than sorry when the world inevitably goes to shit. He's almost smug about it when it does (he hadn't calculated in the zombie aspect of it all, but still)

Unfortunately for him, however, he and the rest of 141 are deployed when outbreak day comes around. More and more cities are bombed by the hour, the population dwindling by the second, and in the week that follows he and the boys are amongst those assigned to evacuate the smaller towns and villages and escort the citizens to quarantine zones — that is, until the QZ's are full and they're under direct order to execute those that didn't make it in.

Now, Price's moral compass has been skewed for some time now. He's done some stuff during his years serving — man or woman, guilty or innocent, it hadn't mattered to him then. It doesn't now, either.

What does him in is the tear that rolls down Soap's cheek when Price shoots the mother and child his sergeant couldn't bring himself to ("Aren't these the people we're 'posed tae protect, cap?")

He convinces his task force to desert that very night (they'd been hesitant, but in the end, they'd follow their captain to hell and back). They gather as many weapons, ammo and MRE's as they can get away with without being caught, and they're off into the night.

Price brings them to his home — a big, old house inherited from his grandparents somewhere in a small, sleepy village. He had spent the better part of his time on leave preparing the house to be self-sufficient should the need arise: generators on solar and wind power, water filters, a chicken coop and a garden set up in the backyard (that, and enough weapons to supply a small army in the garage)

They wait until this village gets evacuated, too, so they can claim it for themselves before raiders come around. They fence off a section of the town, set up traps and cameras, anything to ensure no unwanted visitors can enter, infected or not.

It's their own form of paradise, in a way. (the house has enough bedrooms to give them all their own — they end up in eachother's more often than not)

One day, you fall into their lives — literally. You've fallen into one of their traps, a literal hidden hole in the ground, and within a few minutes you hear the creak of a gate, multiple sets of feet and the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded ("I'm not infected!" You yell from your hole before they can lay eyes on you, certain they'd shoot you on sight if you didn't)

The first thing you see is the barrel of the gun leering over the edge, before you see its owner — a man with a beard and the most intense eyes you've ever seen. He keeps his gun pointed at you while he makes you recite the alphabet, forwards then backwards, all with your hands held before you to ensure you weren't twitching. You pass his test, it seems, and a ladder is lowered into the hole.

Once you're back on the surface, you see it's not just the man with the beard — there's four of them in total, each looking more terrifying than the last, all muscle and bulk and having the ability to snap you like a twig should they feel the need. There are still guns pointed at you as you explain your situation and simultaneously beg for your life — you were with a group travelling to the nearest QZ, you're the only one left now ("Please, I didn't mean- Please don't hurt me, I'll be out of your hair before you know it — I won't tell anyone about this place! I haven't eaten in three days-")

John and Simon were hesitant at first, but their sergeants manage to convince them to let you inside, offer you some food before sending you on your way again (Soap had been frothing at the mouth a little the moment he had laid eyes on you — sure, they had kept eachother... satisfied, but "Cap, when's the last time any o' us felt the touch o' a lass? 'N such a pretty one at that..." and Price knows he can't deny them when Gaz leans over to whisper how prettily you had begged for your safety, surely it'd do no harm?)

Your eyes widen a little when the scary man with the beard tells you to come with them — your hunger ends up winning the battle with your brain as it tries to convince you that following four big male strangers into their fenced home is not a good plan.

You expected a dented can of beans and maybe a cup of water, so you're definitely more than a little surprised when they usher you into a bedroom with an ensuite, telling you to go take a shower (Soap wanted to follow you into the bathroom, mumbling something about wanting to double check for any bite marks. Ghost had to hold him back by his shirt)

You nearly cry when you feel the stream of hot water on your skin, and feel like you're in some sort of fever dream when you see the clean clothes laid out on the bed for you — granted, they're men's clothes, but anything is better than the rags you had on before.

You start to wonder if maybe you died and are in some sort of weird state between worlds when you come back downstairs to a table that's fully decked out and beautifully presented plates of food.

All of them turn to you immediately and you have to do your best not to falter under their stares (you don't notice the flustered little cough Price lets out at the sight of such a pretty creature in his shirt — god, maybe Johnny was right, it had been a while since he's had a woman, and such a young, plush one at that)

One of them — the one with the darker skin and the prettiest face you've seen in months — is the first to jump into action, hand on your lower back as he ushers you into a chair.

You're convinced you're dead when you bring the first bite to your lips — God, that's good. (Johnny nearly chokes on his food at the small moan you let out. Simon remains stoic, but damn him if he didn't feel a spark of heat in his gut at the sound)

The men start introducing themselves while you're shoveling food into your mouth. The man with the beard — John, you now know — explains that they're all ex-military. Through bites of food, you do your best to introduce yourself as well. You tell them your story, they tell you theirs (well, Johnny and Gaz do, mainly. The one called Simon still hasn't really said a word to you, and you can tell John is a little paranoid about sharing too much information with a stranger)

As the night progresses, there's a shift in the air. Kyle leans in a little too close while brushing a crumb away from your lip, and John lingers behind you a little too long as he refills your glass (you pretend not to notice the sound of his deep inhale as he leans over you).

John insists you don't have to help with the dishes, so you wander into the living room and are immediately intrigued by the piano standing there. Johnny joins you on the bench, thigh pressed against yours as you play with the keys. Simon — or 'Ghost', as you noticed the others called him sometimes — leans over you from behind, and your breathing nearly stops (Simon knows he's too close, but so what if he wants you to accidentally brush against his abdomen?)

Once it's all said and done, you try not to let your disappointment show as you prepare to leave. Much to your surprise, it's Simon that grunts something to you, speaking the first words he's said that night. ("Stay. F'r the night. 'S not safe out there.")

John keeps a heavy hand on your shoulder as he leads you back to the bedroom you were in earlier. It's his, he tells you, but he can stay with one of the others. ("Are you- Are you sure? I can take a couch, or-" "'M sure, love, good night's sleep 'll do you good. Give me a yell if y'need somethin', yeah?")

With that, he leaves you to it, shutting the door behind him. Fuck, that bed does look inviting, and you can almost hear your vertebrae begging for a soft mattress. As you get ready for bed, a thought enters your mind. It had... been a while.

Is what you're about to do a stupid decision? Maybe, but you figured if these men had wanted to hurt you they would've done it already, and you'd be lying if you said that all their touches and affection weren't having an effect on your panties.

You yell out their names from the room, and the four of them are there within a second, though they all falter at the door as they take in the sight before them — you're sitting in the bed, covers pulled up so the only thing visible are your bare shoulders and arms, and it's immediately clear what your intentions are.

Soap, once again, has to be held back by the scruff to prevent him from pouncing on you immediately. John, instead, is the first one to actually enter the room, sitting down on the bed and carefully bringing his hand to caress your cheek while asking if you're sure about this (he'd rather not admit the way he shuddered a bit when he made contact with the soft skin of your face)

Your answer is immediate, you've made up your mind — on one condition ("I'm not... a whore, or anything. I don't sleep with people for food or shelter or anything, just- if we're doing this... I'm staying. For a while.")

Simon nearly laughs at this — funny how you think they would have let you leave otherwise.

379 notes · View notes

mergatroidster · 22 days ago

Text

Chill’n at the burger shack, steering clear of the grownups who are in a whirlwind preparing for the celebration…

#miniatures #calico critters #sylvanian families #imagination #custom toys #create #art #dollhouse #robotime #super creator #burgers #burger shack #celebration #the village of twig #twig village #toy photography

27 notes · View notes

galamalion · 6 months ago

Text

𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike.

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight.

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

��Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you. “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become.

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

#chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh x reader #mdni

556 notes · View notes

clandestineloki · 2 years ago

Text

Cold Flower (NSFW)

A/N: My public apology for going dormant on Tumblr for nearly 5 months.

tw: jotun!loki dom!loki, sub!cottagegirl!reader, loki’s cock is big but his size kink is bigger, corruption kink, praise kink, manhandling but very cutely if i may say!!, unrealistically fast paced because loki is horny ) >:D

read it on ao3!!

================================================

The grass tickles your ankles as you step through the bushes, careful not to step on any pretty flowers in your path.

Sunset is nearing, and you've only gotten so much as a few ferns. But you don't mind. The forest will bloom when it wants to, and even if you haven't collected any flowers for your work you're having a wonderful time looking around at all the birds and the deer and the butterflies and nature; just getting away from the busy life in the village is enough of a treat.

Stepping through a clear patch, you look around for any deer traps. What deer traps? The ones that have hidden nets that burst out from the ground like flytraps and scoop up any poor being that just happened to be there, leaving them trapped up in the air by a rope tied to a tree.

Now that you think of it, a clear patch in the middle of the forest means one thing: a deer trap has been set off already.

Right above where you stand.

Realizing the danger of being anywhere near a threatened or harmed deer, you’re ready to bolt out of the woods when you look up, and see a net that’s filled with leaves, branches, and stray grass reeds.

And dangling out of the net is a leg— a leg that looks less like a deer’s… and more of a person’s.

You gasp in horror. Someone’s caught in it!

Running around the tree, you find the rope suspending the trap buried in the ground. You rummage for your shears and hastily cut it, grabbing the rope to pull it down with your weight and let the trap sink to the ground slowly.

When it does, you run over, cutting away as much of the net as you can, digging through the leaves until you reach someone covered in an enormous fur cape.

You gingerly pull it back, and stare in awe.

It’s a man, with dark hair and sharp features, no doubt very handsome despite the scratches and cuts he’s sustained. The linen top he’s wearing is littered with twigs.

Softly, you brush away the twigs when you touch his wrist and freeze.

And quite literally, because his skin is as cold as ice.

Almost as if he were a corpse.

“Sir! Sir! Please wake up!”

When Prince Loki’s eyes open and adjust to the glare of the sun— and the silhouette blocking it out— his breath hitches.

Is this Valhalla? Am I… dead?

Surely, he must be. For above him kneels the most beautiful girl, almost shimmering in the golden light, it’s definite that you’re an angel.

“Hello? Sir? Can you hear me?”

An even lovelier voice for a radiant woman. He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness!” You lean forward, brushing away twigs from his face and cloak. “I thought you had died! I hate those deer traps, they’re dangerous and they're so hard to see! It almost killed you! Are you alright?”

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

It’s as if he spoke without thinking, eager to hear more from your pretty lips. You catch your breath, kneeling back down, and he sits up to get a better look at the captivating face of his savior.

“How long have you been up there?”

Loki brushes his hand against his cheek. “I'm not quite sure- ah-”

He hisses when his fingers graze a wound on his temple, and he retracts his hand to find a few specks of scarlet.

“Probably not long, I'm still bleeding,” he shows you his hand, and you gasp.

“Oh, no,” you take a closer look at his face. “My house isn't far from here, I can help you clean up and get some rest. You must be exhausted. Are you alright with some porridge and biscuits? They're all I have the ingredients for and the farmers’ market is a bit far so I'm sorry if...”

Loki honestly can’t concentrate on what you're saying. He nods along, but he's rather focused on you.

As he tags along behind you as you retrace your steps to your home, Loki whispers a thanks to whatever Gods led him to be graced by your beauty in this moment, regardless of the circumstance. He had just been hunting for sport, unaware of the trap that had pulled him up into the tree so suddenly and rendered him unconscious.

Now, he's found something— no, someone— better; a much more rewarding, delicious little prey.

“I just realized I haven't introduced myself."

Loki looks up just as you say your name, timidly holding out your hand. He takes it after a moment.

“Loki,” he replies, once he finds it in himself to speak.

“Like the prince?"

He recoils a bit in surprise. “Yes- Yes, like the prince. Uh-"

“How are you feeling?" you ask, dabbing the cloth lightly against his wrist.

“They don't hurt if I don't move."

“Okay. Let me know if it does.”

Loki nods, watching you silently tend to his wounds, before he hisses softly.

You flinch, pulling away. “Oh, I'm sorry-"

“You really don't know who I am?” Loki asks.

A second passes as you look down at him, brows furrowing as you sit down next to him on your bed.

“I can't recall. Sorry, have you ordered flowers from me before?"

“You run a flower shop?”

“Yes, that's why I was in the woods. I was looking for fresh flowers and came across you up in that trap.” You tilt your head. “What were you doing in the forest, anyway?"

“I was... hunting for deer, and the last thing I remember is hearing something above me snap.”

“Hunting… Is that what you do for a living?”

“Well, no. My brother and I do it for sport."

“Oh."

Loki stares at you blankly. “My brother, Prince Thor."

You nod.

Loki chuckles. Your pretty little head hasn't registered it.

He leans in close, brushing his lips against your ear, and whispers very slowly:

“I'm Prince Loki."

And the reaction he gets is the cutest. Your lips part as your eyes widen, to which he grins.

But he doesn't expect you to fling yourself off the side of the bed and onto the ground, bowing down to him.

“Your Highness!” you squeak. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know!! I-”

“Darling, please," he chuckles, shaking his head. “That isn't necessary-"

“I'm so sorry, I'll get some tea, do you want anything from the market? Please, allow me-”

Loki bends down, lifting you off the floor in a princess carry and sets you down on the bed.

“Please, don’t stress yourself. You saved my life.”

He takes your hand, kissing it softly as he smiles up at you.

“Thank you, pretty angel.”

Your eyes widen as you stutter out tiny breaths. Norns, aren’t you the most adorable?

“I don’t think you believe me.” He stands up, pretending to be offended by your silence.

“No!” you cry . “I mean- I do believe you! It’s just- I was surprised, I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think what? A prince would just be out in the woods for no reason?” He laughs, leaning down to you. Before you can respond, he chuckles again. “That’s alright,” he steps back, “you just need a little… evidence.”

Loki closes his eyes, and lets himself shift into his true form: blue skin, dark green patterns across his biceps. He hears the tiniest gasp of amazement from you as the magic also heals his wounds and cuts (and hopes that he’ll hear more of those cute noises very soon).

When he’s done transforming, he opens his eyes and stares down at you.

Dear Norns.

He knew he was already taller than you in human form, but this was just delightful. You’re much tinier than him, staring up at his stature with those wide doe eyes of yours.

“You are-” you blink a few times in shock. “You are the Jotun prince.”

He smiles even wider. “That’s right.”

“And… I… just saved the Jotun prince.”

He starts laughing, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Clever girl.” He knows he’s downright cruel, teasing you just because you’re so cute. “And do you want anything in return for ‘saving the Jotun prince’?”

“Well, I don’t know-”

Loki walks closer to you, and stands between your legs as he drops his cloak to the floor and leans down, drawling his next words very slowly.

“You deserve something… special. Something downright… pleasurable as a reward for saving my life. Something that you’ll remember for the rest of yours.”

He chuckles darkly when your breath hitches in realization.

He wants to make love to you.

“What?”

He pushes you down on the bed, trapping you in with his large body as he takes your wrists in one of his hands.

“You’ll feel undeniable bliss. I’ll take you over and over and over again until I’m sure you’re truly satisfied, because you’re such a sweet little angel saving my life and cleaning me up and looking so fuckable.”

You mewl, no doubt keening from his dirty words. He cups your chin.

“All you have to do is say yes. You don’t even have to do anything~”

His thumb brushes over your quivering lips, and push into your mouth. Loki grins as you look up at him, nodding slowly.

“Use your words, angel,” he teases, pulling his thumb away from your mouth.

It takes you a few moments to catch your breath. “Okay…”

He wanted to make you beg. He wanted you to say please, please fuck me so he could flip you over like you weighed nothing and take you over and over again like you’d asked but the way you whimpered withered away the last of his patience.

He had to make you his.

Loki captured you into a passionate kiss, muffling every last sound your pretty lips made so that only he could hear. He pulled away only to push you down on the sheets again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you twitch in his hold, unable to comprehend how dizzy you are from just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for air as his dark green irises watches your eyes glaze over with submission. He grins, unbuttoning his white button-up and tosses it elsewhere.

He grins as you stare at his chest. Your tiny hands reach for him, tracing over the markings and patterns.

Loki hisses, taking your hands in one of his. You whimper as he stares down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Did that hurt?”

“No, no.” His voice softens as he leans in, kissing your nose gently, his other hand pushing your dress up your thighs. He kisses your cheek, then presses his lips against your ear. You shiver at his ice-cold breath.

“It doesn’t, angel. It’s just that if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to resist flipping you over and pounding you into the sheets until you’re dripping with my cum and you can’t think.”

He pushes his knee against your crotch, making you squeak like a pathetic little mouse. Loki grins.

“I will be doing that, mind you,” he teases. “But I simply have to get a taste of your pretty juices first~”

Your skirt bunches up against your twitching hips as Loki stares down at your dripping cunt.

“Oh," Loki chuckles. “You're already wet for me, angel, isn't that adorable~?"

You mewl, bashfully covering your face as he grins at your embarrassment.

“Stop teasing..."

Loki shakes his head, pouting in mockery. “Only if you stop being so cute when you're flustered. But until then…”

He places his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he lowers his face to your mound.

“... I'll enjoy fucking you until you submit to me.”

Your eyes widen as he licks your folds very slowly, and you whine shakily.

“Prince Loki..."

Loki grins, kissing your pretty cunt wetly and pushing his tongue into your dripping hole. And your helpless whimper of pleasure as he devours your pretty pussy whole is the cutest and most captivating noise he's ever heard.

He draws it out of you again, and again, and again, drinking every bit of your slick, even if poor little you are just getting wetter and wetter.

You're panting now, and Loki is equally as short of breath, only ever breaking away from you to watch your pretty face scrunch up so cutely. Loki licks his lips, nibbling on your thighs and making you squeak and tremble in his icy grip.

“You're such an adorable little angel," Loki grumbles. "Makes me want to eat you up like a little mouse, hmm?”

He holds you down firmly as your moans tickle his ears. The way your little hole squeezes around nothing is just so cute, he just has to stuff you full after he makes you come far too many times than you can handle.

“Aww,” Loki chuckles as you whimper breathily, thighs thumping helplessly against the bed. “Little angel can’t take it anymore?”

He brushes a blue finger against your dripping folds, sinking into your hole for the millionth time making you squeak and sob in sensitivity.

“P-Please…” you mumble, glazed eyes pleading for a moment of rest.

He sighs, forgetting you’re just a pure little thing having her first time, and gently scoops you into his arms to press a few kisses to your cheek and whispering your name.

“Have I thanked you enough already~?” He teases, and you nod, nuzzling into his hold though you shiver lightly.

Loki’s heart skips a beat. He feels you cling to him tighter and he feels your little ass grinding against his cock.

“Well,” he muses, “I believe my kingdom will be overjoyed to find that an angel like yourself saved their prince, hmm?”

“Huh?” you ask, still pleasure-drunk as you settle into his lap, as if you perfectly fit in his hold.

“I said,” Loki chuckles his icy breath tickling your face, “My kingdom would be overjoyed to find a pretty thing like you saved the royal prince, wouldn't they?"

“Mhm..."

“And they'll throw a week-long celebration...” he continues, trailing kisses from your cheek to your shoulder. “All for you~”

“R-Really?” you gasp as he begins sucking on your skin, sure to leave marks after. “A whole week? That's too much-!”

Loki laughs against your shoulder, holding your hips down so he can feel your hips grind against his cock. “Nothing is too much for a perfect little angel like you~"

Loki licks the bite mark he's so carefully placed on your skin, then looks up at your glazed eyes and twitching pout.

“Would you like to come back with me to the palace?"

The look of confusion and bashfulness across your face makes his cock twitch against your bare folds.

“Me?! With you?!"

“Do you abhor the idea of that?”

He knows he's being mean and he knows you don't hate the idea, but Loki just can't resist seeing you so embarrassed and stuttering to apologize.

“No! I didn't mean that! I was just surprised-"

Loki shakes his head with a little chuckle, and brings you closer to his face to kiss the crease between your eyebrows.

“I know, I know. I was just teasing."

“Don't be mean like that!”

Loki laughs darkly when you cross your arms.

In a flash, he’s got you on your hands and knees before your pretty head can even figure out what’s going on.

“And if I do, what are you going to do about it?”

You shiver at the dark growl in his voice.

You're so far deep in this haze all you can see is blue.

“Your highness-!”

Loki presses your chest against the bed, leaving your pretty ass on display, purely his for the taking.

“You’re just a little mouse that can’t hurt anything, hmm? Just so innocent, and weak, and ready to be ravished.”

A cold, thick finger traces your wet folds, and you whimper, burying your face in the sheets as he tickles your hole until you’re shaking with need.

“Maybe I’ll take you back home with me… and make you my wife.”

Loki shoves his finger all the way in, knocking the wind out of you because you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

“Your- Your wife?” You ask, voice higher and breathier.

“Yes~” he mocks your airy voice. “My pretty wife, who won’t have to get her pretty hands dirty ever again, who I’ll take care of, and protect, and fuck every single night.”

Loki curls his finger, reaching that sensitive little part in your cunt that effectively leaves you a mumbling, drooling mess on him.

When he’s gotten you wet enough, he draws his finger back (to his cute little angel’s momentary dismay) and forces your thighs apart with his body, the head of his cock twitching against your folds.

Loki will forever remember the gasp you let out when you feel just how big he is.

“Do you want to be fully mine? Do you want me to fuck this little hole of yours with my cock until you’re screaming for me?”

You whine at his dirty words, slurring something that sounds like a yeah, and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“Really?” he chuckles, fingering your little hole one more time to slicken your folds. “Do you think I’ll fit~?”

And with the dirty wet noises that tickle his ears as he sinks all the way in he gets his reply.

“Oh?” Amused, he runs an icy finger up and down your bare back. “She can take it, after all. What a good girl~”

Loki barely gets the praise out before the prettiest whimpers fall out of your mouth like sweet honey, your poor cunt clenching down on him as your voice gets higher and breathier by the minute.

“Please-” you hiccup, turning to look at him with those pretty teary eyes.

His vermillion eyes stare you down cruelly as he grinds his hips down into your ass, making your head fall onto the sheets as you slur out a moan.

His cock feels so heavy inside you and by the way he laughs quietly you know he knows just how big he is compared to you.

And the way he pins you down harder lets you know he loves it.

“Oh, you just feel so good around my cock,” Loki groans, pulling back and thrusting into your leaking little pussy.

Poor you, already sensitive beyond imagination as this handsome blue prince ruins any other man for you with the way his cock stretches you out better than anyone ever will.

Not that anyone else will get the chance to. Loki’s decided it: he will take you home to the palace and make you his wife, and everyone will bow before their new princess.

Loki can't resist you any longer. He beats your poor cunt like the beast he is until you're whimpering and bucking against him helplessly.

“Feels... weird..." you shudder and gasp, tears leaking from your eyes as he sinks deeper into you, his huge cock hitting all the good spots inside you as your pleasure takes over your senses.

“Oh, is she close? Is this perfect little cunt going to come all over me?”

Loki's dirty words make you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Yeah," you sob.

Loki laughs at how blissed out his little saviour is and stops,pulling out slowly and groaning when he hears the sinful squelching as your juices drip onto the sheets. He turns you on your back, pinning your wrists to your sides, and captures your lips in his as he sinks into you once more.

“I missed these pretty lips," he smirks into the kiss, taking you for himself.

“Y-You just kissed me a few minutes ago..." You sigh dazedly, though you love the attention he's giving you.

“Still can't get enough of you. You're just so sweet~" Loki licks your lips, thrusting harder and making you squeak and link your fingers through his.

“Say my name."

“Loki...”

“Gods," he throws his head back, almost moaning at how submissive you sound. “Surrender to me, darling."

His hands snake down to the back of your thighs, lifting them and pressing them to your chest, quickening his pace.

Your eyes scrunch up as you nearly scream in pleasure, wriggling away as if you could escape from him.

“Surrender to me, angel~" he grins, kissing your neck and marking you up. “A pretty angel like you deserves to be pampered like this every day. Imagine that? You'll never have to lift a finger, I'll do all the work, I'll do all the fucking.”

Loki accentuates that last word with a hard thrust into your hole, making your eyes blur over with tears as you mewl helplessly in the Jotun prince’s tight grip.

“Awh, don't cry," he teases, kissing your nose when he gets a sinfully great idea.

He stops his movements, making sure he's buried all the way inside you before he flattens his tongue against your soaked cheek and licks your tears away.

You gasp, stunned for a moment before you keen and twitch helplessly, whining loudly as he does the same to your other cheek.

And your poor little cunt just clenches down again.

Loki growls, his primal instincts taking over because you're his ideal mate and you're nothing like he's ever seen. The sounds in the room get filthier and filthier as he loses control and rams into your poor hole.

“What do you say, angel?" Loki asks, letting go of your wrist before his hand makes its way down to your clit, rubbing the little bud and making you scream and tremble in his arms. “Be my- fuck- be my bride? Be my pretty little princess?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut.

“Are you close?"

“Mhm..."

“Cute little mouse," he chuckles, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck as he rubs your clit. “Let go for me now, angel."

It’s a sight from heaven as you orgasm all over him, soaking his cock with your juices and helplessly thumping your thighs against the bed because Loki won't stop thrusting in and out of you.

Loki growls, pinning you to the bed. He stills, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm, thick cum filling you up. It makes you feel even more full than you already do and it makes you dizzy with even more pleasure.

It becomes too much for your melting brain to handle when he pushes deeper into you and you gasp, attempting to kick him away.

A firm, cold hand grabs your ankle and spreads you wider, and you whine shyly when he grins at you with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Stay with me, darling," Loki teases, gripping your hips possessively and holding you still on his cock so he can finish filling you up.

It feels like hours before he breathes again, but it's only been seconds for him, already wanting another round with you.

But the prince resists, setting your sore legs down slowly and carefully sliding out of your cunt.

You sigh in exhaustion, but your breaths falters in embarrassment when you feel just how much he pumped into you, dripping out of your twitching folds and onto the bed.

A tiny drop even lands on your ass and Loki chuckles at your wide eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips and whisper a dirty promise that he'll fuck you down there too next time.

“Next time?” you ask, lips parting.

“Yes," he teases. " I've decided it, you're never leaving my side, my guardian angel~”

And he scoops you into his side, letting you rest before he has a few more rounds with your pretty hole— then he'll take you back home to the palace and convince you to stay. He'll show you the library. He'll let you lose yourself in the royal gardens all day if you wish! As long as you return to his chambers each night and let him please you the way you deserve to be.

But he's fallen for you already and the whole kingdom will burn in a blaze of sapphire dust if anything or anyone ever keeps him away from you.

3K notes · View notes

blastoqueen · 5 months ago

Text

Sunrise.

Chapter 6

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Noa x Mae (Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes)

Content warnings: None

Comments: English is not my first language. This is my last chapter before going back to Med School :(

“How are Noa… and you?” Anaya asked, a little scared to make the female angry or uncomfortable, he knew it was a sensible topic and that the more-than-just-a-friendship thing between them was long time dead.

“Fine” Soona said “He is my friend… like you”

The curiosity was killing Anaya, so he pushed the limits a little bit.

“I know you… were… too close” the male avoided eye contact.

His friend just stood there, not making any movements or showing any emotions.

“Can I be… honest with you, Anaya?”

“Yes! Of course”

Soona inhaled.

“I hoped Noa would see me as… something more… than just his friend” even though her words were sad, her face only showed serenity “He took me… to see the world… once we were… free from Proximus. However… I knew he didn’t… love me that much”

“Oh no, no, no, no, Soona” the male said, he reached to his friend and hugged her tight “He loves you… very much. I do too”

The smaller ape laughed a little, hugging her friend back. When they let go, she continued.

“But you know… what I mean” Anaya looked at the floor, feeling sad for her “And then Mae came back… I didn’t… trust her. And when she… left again I begged… Noa to let her go. He didn’t, but I learned to… forgive. Mae is good and she… is my friend”

He wanted to tell her about the night Mae and Noa were out to see the lighting dancers, but he promised not to tell anyone, so he stayed silent. All he could do was take Soona’s hand in his and act like a true friend.

-----------

“Is this another secret spot you wanted to show me?” Mae said. She and the ape were doing a light climbing in a destroyed three-story building covered in leaves.

“No. I want to teach you how to be strong” Noa said, grabbing a branch and pushing himself up.

“I am strong” Mae said, panting.

“When you came to the village you were a twig”

“Sorry for being held captive in a quarantine bunker”

“No excuses”

They were only halfway through when Mae stopped, hugging a big branch with both arms, closing her eyes and exhaling.

“Mae?” the male came closer to the human, hanging only from one arm and feet.

He put his other hand on top of Mae´s head, gently caressing her hair.

“What is wrong?”

“I just… need a minute”

“I´m bringing you to the village”

“No! No, I can. I just need to rest a little bit”

“Mae”

“I can do it”

The Echo reached another branch, but quickly slipped, Noa held her by the waist, while all her limbs hung loose.

The ape took her to the ground and Mae sat immediately.

“Sorry, but the sun and the height…”

“It's okey”

“Tomorrow we can try again”

“Sure”

Noa was a little devastated, he felt anger at himself. He wanted to pretend Mae was the same as him, or maybe that she could be like him, but they were so different in many aspects. He used to think maybe she was weak even among her own, but he had seen her killed Trevathan…

Maybe it was time to accept the reality. They were different.

Why was he trying to make them both seem equal?

“So that it wouldn’t be so weird to have these feelings”

“Let´s go to the village. And then you… can teach me how to read” Noa said.

Mae looked up and made a strange face, the ape was taken back at that.

“I… no”

No?

“Oh. I just thought… you could teach me some things from your… people” he felt shy, embarrassed, suddenly, his hands became awkward.

“I can´t teach you more things” Mae murmured “Sorry”

“Is that… forbidden?”

“For me, yeah, it is”

“For you?” Noa sat besides her “Is someone forbidding you?”

“No, Noa. I am forbidding myself… from teaching you”

He was getting more confused every time, maybe the girl was really tired…

Right when he was about to offer they return to the village, the Echo spoke.

“I can´t teach the apes. It´s dangerous”

“What?”

Mae refused to look him in the eyes.

“I can not believe you” Noa sighed, he got up and stared at the human “Dangerous? Why would it be dangerous?”

“It is, Noa!” Mae said exasperated, she stood up and almost fall back, Noa resisted the urge to catch her “You are already… evolving. Remember what Proximus said? Those weapons in the bunker would have help the apes to evolve and we don´t want that! Weapons and guns are not the only way your kind can evolve, Noa, knowledge can do that too”

“So you will not share it. Because you are scared that we become… better than you humans. Is that so, Mae?”

“Yes” her face showed security.

Noa walked towards the human and stood in front of her. They were almost the same heigh, both pair of eyes watching each other intensely.

“You are so fake” the ape chuckle “Every time I think you had change… you just prove me wrong. You pretend and lie and steal. Are all humans… like you, Mae? Or are you just a rotten apple among them?”

“Shut up! You stupid animal!” Mae yelled furious, pushing the ape with both hands, only moving him a little.

“How does it feel, Mae? Watching me… evolve”

“You will never know how it feels to be completely human” the human started to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks, anger in her eyes.

“I don’t want to be human” Noa said “And I don’t need you to help me... evolve. I fixed the electric spear… without help and without you, remember?”

“Your time is over, Noa. I delivered the key, got that? The book that could make humans speak again. It´s only a matter of time before the humans reunite and be strong again, it will be our planet again”

“The things with us, princess, is that we don’t claim the planet. We… live here, but it is not ours!”

“You wouldn’t understand”

“No? Am I too dumb, Mae?”

“You didn’t see the world with us in it”

“And you did? How old are you, Mae? Because… I am sure that you never saw the world… either”

“You are being too... cruel” Noa could see the pain in her eyes, the puffy face and red cheeks. The tiredness.

Did he cross the line?

“Let´s go to the village” Noa said, lowering his voice but keeping the cold tone in it.

“I´ll go by myself. I know were it is” Mae started to walk when the ape grabbed her arm. Why did he keep doing that?

“No. We are going together”

“After all that… what makes you think I want your company?”

“I don’t care if you want it or not. I am not… leaving you”

“Whatever” she said with disdain, pushing him away from her.

They started walking putting some distance between them. The ape could hear Mae´s sobs.

Were they going to be able to forgive each other for the words said today?

"Would I ever forgive myself for making her cry?"

#kingdom of the planet of the apes #mae #noa x mae #planet of the apes #fanfic #kotpota #noa and mae #soona #anaya

368 notes · View notes

neteyamssyulang · 10 months ago

Text

♱ Wild Encounters ♱

♱ Easter special ♱

♱ Pairing: Adult Neteyam x Fem human reader ♱

♱ Summary: While on a late night walk in the woods, you immediately regret your decision.

♱ Warnings: Dom Neteyam, Sub reader, Neteyam in rut, Dub-con?, P in V, Size difference, Creampie.

♱ Translation(s): Tawtute -> Sky person, Tìyawn -> Love.

♱ Word count: 653 ♱

♱ A/N: Happy Easter my darlings!

♱ Tagging: @teyamshuman @ikeyniofthetayrangi @itchaboi-itchyboy @aria-tempest @anemonelovesfiction @loaksulluyswife @kia-wolfie @tallulah477 @kariz-stark

When you decided to go for a late night walk through the forest, this is not what you had in mind.

The air was temperate, the breeze was cool, the bioluminescent moss lighting your way though the endless forest. It felt good to be out here, so perfect and free.

Tonight felt different though, like someone was watching you from the shadows. Whenever you turned around however, there was nobody around. It was like pandora was playing a prank on you, making you feel crazy and on edge.

Glances over your shoulder now and then would ease that nervousness inside of you a bit but it would never fully go away. A twig snapping behind you made you turn around instantly, only to be met with, him.

You've heard stories about the omaticaya prince from humans that went back and fourth from the village, yet none compared to what is infront of you right now.

His eyes, normally described yellow like honey were green, with slits for pupils. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and a noticeable tent was in his tewng.

"Such a pretty little tawtute" he purred, stepping closer towards you. Instinctively, you took a step back making him growl.

In an instant, you found yourself laying flat on your back with the huge na'vi hovering above you. He was so large compared to you, having to bend his back a bit to bury his head into the crook of your neck.

"Please, don't do this.." you begged him, unfortunately your pleas fell on deaf ears as he ripped off your shorts, along with your panties and shirt.

"You do not tell me what to do, little girl" he hissed, moving his loincloth to the side. His cock slapped against his stomach, beads of pre-cum already oozing from the tip.

Holy mother he was huge, that would never fit inside you. No way, no how. "That thing will ne- ahh! oh shit!" Your cut off as he immediately rammed his cock inside your tight pussy.

"Fuck.. so tight..so good" he moaned, with no preparation the stretch felt unbearable to you. It was like he was tearing you in half, literally.

Tears streamed down your face as you dug your nails into the palm of your hand, leaving small crescent marks. Without warning, Neteyam pulled out only to slam back inside. A noticeable buldge could be seen from your stomach where his cock was buried.

Neteyam hovered above you, his large frame making you feel even smaller compared to him. His arms caged you in as he started rutting into you like a rabbit in heat.

The forest was filled with the sound of his hips slapping against yours, along with the lewd sounds he kept pulling from your lips. You've never felt so full in your life, not even the toys you had could make you feel this way.

"That's it" Neteyam purred, coiling his tail around your ankle. He leaned down, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

You whined, clawing at his shoulders as you felt your climax approaching. Neteyam groaned, picking up his pace "Is the little human gonna cum for me? Hm?"

Leaning back up, he gazed down at your flushed face. You nodded frantically, desperately wanting to cum already. Neteyam smirked,"Cum, be a good little slut and cum.on.this.cock!" With each word he delivered a hard thrust, his tip kissing your cervix.

A choked out sob left your lips as you came hard, squirting onto his lower abdomen and thighs. Neteyam hissed feeling your walls squeezing around him tightly, with one last thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside, painting your gummy walls white.

Panting heavily, you gazed up at him, his green eyes slowly turning back to the warm honey ones you heard so much about.

"Your mine now, pretty human" he murmured.

#neteyamssyulang #james cameron avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #adult neteyam #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam smut #tw: dubcon #comments really appreciated #please like and reblog #followmypage

690 notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! I really love your work i was wondering if you could do a fic with Elijah and fem reader when he was still human, i really liked the one you did with viking Elijah, could you do it similar but when him and reader first meet and they start to date and they are both virgins and they have sex for the first time. Thank youuu!

Solstice

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Viking!Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} In a small Viking village, love blooms as Elijah steals your heart. But a winter storm prevents your future plans, forcing secrets to surface and your bond to grow stronger than ever.

♡♡ Thank you sweet anon(s) youu know I adore viking elijah!!! Here is a long fluffly, HAPPY story of sweet angel eli falling in love for the first time ♡♡

9k words - Warnings: smutttt, viking theme, a sprinkle of Niklaus, lots of flirting, both reader & Elijah are virgins, nervous and shy Elijah, sooo so sappy and sweet, lots of kisses and longing, amazing parents that we all wish we had (or do have? idku), classic patriarchy viking stuff, outdoor sex, pregnancy, mushrooms && an unfortunate hare ...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss

As soon as the leaves began to turn, the village became a flurry of activity. The summer months had been kind to the village, and the harvest was bountiful. But there was still much work to be done to prepare for the winter. You did what you could to help your family, as well as the rest of the village.

Today you set out to pick some herbs. It was a chore that you didn't mind, especially on such a beautiful day. Your mother had given you a basket, and you walked through the forest collecting anything that could be used in the healing remedies.

Kneeling down to pick a handful of ripe berries, you stilled at a sudden sound—leaves rustling, a faint snap of twigs. Your hand instinctively reached for your knife, but you forced yourself to remain calm, reminding yourself that large animals were rarely seen near the village, especially during daylight.

To your relief, a hare darted through the brush, nose twitching, large eyes staring back at you as if sizing you up. Smiling, you crouched and reached for a few berries in your basket.

"Hello there," you murmured, extending the food toward the creature, watching its tiny nose sniff the air.

Just as it leaned closer, you heard a soft rustle. An instant later, an arrow shot past, embedding itself in the hare’s side. The animal let out a soft, pitiful sound and tried to flee, but it only managed a few feet before collapsing, blood seeping into the forest floor.

“Oh no…” you whispered, standing abruptly, eyes scanning for the source of the arrow.

Through the trees, a young man emerged, his expression frustrated as he approached the hare, crouching beside it. His blond curls fell over his shoulders, and his blue eyes shone with both impatience and frustration. He muttered a curse under his breath and ended the creature’s suffering with quick precision.

"You must learn patience, Niklaus," another voice said, and a second figure stepped out of the shadows.

Your gaze shifted to this newcomer. His dark hair was tied back loosely, his face more serious, yet his brown eyes held a warmth that softened his features.

"Patience?" Niklaus scoffed, wiping his blade on the grass. "Brother, can you see it was a perfect shot … until the wind changed at the last second."

The dark-haired one chuckled. "Much like how that doe 'vanished into thin air,' or how the 'boar outran you.’" He turned, catching sight of you. For a moment, the easy humor faded from his expression, replaced by curiosity.

"My apologies, we didn't see you there." He gave you a polite bow of his head.

Niklaus stood, his eyes narrowed as he regarded you. "A woman, alone? There are wolves about, you know," he said with a grin.

You felt your cheeks warm at his comment, your eyes darting to the blood on his hands, and the dead hare in his grip.

You lifted your skirts and pulled a long blade from its sheath around your calf. "Not alone," you said, returning his grin.

Niklaus' eyes widened, and his brother let out a soft laugh.

"And now the wolves shall be the ones afraid," the dark-haired one said. "I am Elijah, and this is my brother Niklaus."

"Do you hail from one of the villages downstream?" You asked.

"We do, but our home is much further, on the coast," Elijah explained.

You nodded, then returned the blade to its sheath, and straightened. "What is your business so far from home?"

Elijah gave Klaus a pointed look, before turning back to you. "We are looking to trade, our home lacks some of the necessary supplies to prepare for winter."

"Well, this is a poor season for hunting," you said, pointing to the hare in Klaus' grip.

"Indeed," Elijah agreed, casting a glance at his brother. "Perhaps, if we are lucky, we will come across another."

You looked down at your basket, a thoughtful expression on your face. "My village is just over the hill," you pointed. "The elders may be willing to trade. If you have anything of value."

Elijah glanced at his brother. "Thank you, that would be most kind."

You gave him a small smile, and started down the path. Elijah fell into step beside you, and Niklaus trailed behind, scouting out other possible game.

"Have you lived in the village long?" He asked, glancing over at you.

"My whole life," you told him. "Though, my family came from the north when I was very young."

He nodded, taking in your features. "And are you married?"

"No," you said, a faint blush coming to your cheeks. "How about you?"

"Not yet, no," he told you, giving you a warm smile.

The path led up a steep slope, and after a few minutes, the three of you crested the hill. You could hear the sound of laughter, and children's voices. In the distance, the village spread out across the valley below, smoke curling into the sky from a dozen homes.

"You have a beautiful home," Elijah said, admiring the view.

"Thank you," you said, leading them down the path toward the village.

It wasn't long before someone spotted you, and several children came bounding up to you, asking a million questions.

"I'm sorry, but I must return to my home… but the longhouse is that way," you pointed to a larger building near the center of the village.

"We will find you again soon," Elijah told you, giving you a kind smile.

"I would like that," you admitted, feeling a spark of excitement.

Elijah bowed his head, and his brother waved, before the two of them continued on.

You watched them for a moment, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Though they were gone, a strange sense of lingering excitement remained, mixed with caution. Elijah had stirred something inside you, an interest that you weren't sure how to feel about.

With a shake of your head, you pushed those thoughts aside and continued on. Secretly hoping to see him again.

The longhouse was warm, and filled with the smell of food and the soft hum of conversation. Many people were gathered around, preparing dinner. Some greeted you, and a few even asked for some herbs for their meals.

You could see Niklaus and Elijah sitting with your father and other men. They had obviously introduced themselves, and your father seemed intrigued by them. The brothers sharing the unfortunate hare between them.

You placed the basket of herbs on the table before taking a seat near your mother. She gave you a small smile, her attention focused on her weaving. You listened to the conversations around you, trying not to be obvious as you watched the two newcomers.

"The dark haired one asked about you," your mother said quietly, her gaze never leaving her task. "He thinks you are quite pretty."

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced over at the table, seeing Niklaus whispering to your father. Your eyes met Elijah's, and his cheeks reddened, quickly looking away from you.

She glanced over at you, her face unreadable. "I think you should invite him for a walk."

You stared at her, wide-eyed. She had never been so willing to let you be alone with a man. "Really?"

"Yes, you are about to meet your eighteenth winter, it is time you start looking for a husband."

Your stomach flipped, and your palms grew sweaty.

"Besides, all the boys from our village are not fit for you."

"I don't know if I'm ready," you muttered, thinking about being alone with a man.

"If it were left to your father, you would never be ready," she shook her head. "You are a beautiful, smart girl. Any man would be lucky to have you as their wife."

Your gaze moved back to Elijah. His handsome features glowing in the firelight. “Do you really think so?"

"Go invite him for a walk," she repeated, nudging you.

"Right now?" You asked, nervously glancing around.

"Before the sun sets would be the wise choice," she replied, returning her attention to her weaving.

You glanced over at the table, Niklaus had disappeared, leaving Elijah alone. Your father was deep in conversation with the other men, and the women were busy gossiping.

"Go," your mother nodded toward Elijah. "Don't worry about your father."

You swallowed, nodding slowly. You were nervous, but eager. You didn't want to let this chance pass.

You stood and walked over to the table, standing awkwardly beside Elijah. He looked up at you, surprised. "Hello, again," he said, his voice deep and smooth.

You could see your father glancing over at you, and you quickly sat down next to Elijah, avoiding his gaze.

"Are you enjoying your time in the village?" You asked.

Elijah gave a nod, and offered a warm smile. "Very much so. Your people are quite welcoming."

"That's good, I'm glad," you said, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

He leaned in a bit closer, his brow furrowed. "Are you well?"

You met his gaze, and nodded. "I am, but, I was wondering if maybe you would like to take a walk with me? If you're not busy that is," you added.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting over to your father. "I fear that would not be wise."

"He'll get over it," you whispered, giving him a small smile.

He considered it for a moment, then returned the smile. "A short walk then."

You stood, and waited for him to join you. As the two of you started for the door, you caught your father's eye, his gaze stern. You ignored him and left the longhouse.

Outside, the air was crisp, the fading sun casting an orange glow across the landscape. A light breeze rustled the trees, and birds chirped.

"You have a lovely village," Elijah said, breaking the silence. "Your people are very kind."

"We've been fortunate," you told him, glancing over at him.

"What are the winters like here?"

"Cold," you laughed. "The snow falls early and stays for many months."

"Our winters are the same," he said, watching as some children ran past.

You fell into silence once more, and after a few moments, your hand brushed his. An unexpected wave of desire rushed through you, and you quickly pulled your hand away, cheeks warming.

He let out an awkward little cough, his cheeks a light shade of pink. He looked so handsome in the soft evening light, the orange and purple hues making his dark eyes sparkle.

You led him to a trail that would take you to a field near a pond. It was a beautiful spot, and quiet, a place that you went to clear your head.

"Is there any particular reason you invited me for a walk?" He asked, looking over at you.

You blushed, looking down at your hands. "My mother seems to think I should find a husband," you explained.

He cleared his throat, and didn't say anything. But his hands were nervously twitching, and you could see his face redden further.

"I'm not suggesting anything," you quickly assured him.

"Of course," he replied, giving a stiff nod.

You stepped off the path, into a clearing, where a large weeping willow grew. You stopped near the tree, and turned to him.

He stepped a bit closer, and held out his hand. You placed your hand in his, and a wave of warmth rushed through you. His fingers closed around yours, and he gently tugged you closer.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you looked up into his dark eyes, noticing the way his breathing quickened. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing along your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

"This is not the sort of walk that your mother had in mind, I am sure." He whispered, his face mere inches from yours.

"Perhaps not," you breathed.

You leaned closer, and he pressed his forehead to yours. Your eyes closed, and you let out a soft breath. The scent of leather, and earth, and pine washed over you, and your fingers tightened around his.

He closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and he tasted sweet, like the honeyed mead the village was fond of. Neither of you knew what you were doing, your lips uncoordinated and clumsy. But his touch was gentle, his hands trembling slightly as they found your waist.

Your hands moved up his arms, coming to rest on his chest. You could feel his heart pounding against your palms. The kiss ended all too soon, and you stared up at him, slightly breathless.

His cheeks were flushed, and his pupils blown wide. His mouth opened and closed a few times, then a shy smile broke across his lips.

"We should be getting back," he whispered.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

He took your hand in his, and guided you back to the path. The walk was mostly silent, both of you still processing what had just happened. But the silence was not uncomfortable, the air between you had changed.

"May I visit you again?" He asked, his voice low and hesitant.

You smiled, and squeezed his hand. "Yes, I would like that."

"Would tomorrow afternoon suit you?"

You nodded, barely able to maintain eye contact, his handsome face giving you butterflies.

"Until tomorrow then," he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

You blushed, and turned to continue on. But his hand tightened around yours, and he pulled you back into his arms, kissing you once more. This kiss was not as gentle as the first. This time it was deep, and passionate, and his hands moved up your back, holding you close.

When the kiss ended, both of you were breathless, and your face was hot. He smiled, and you laughed softly, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Don't tell your father I did that," he whispered, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You giggled and pressed another kiss to his lips. "I won't."

With a reluctant sigh, he released you, and stepped back. You gave him a little wave, and headed back to your home, the warmth of his touch lingering.

It was late when you reached the house, your father was still out, and your mother was asleep. You climbed the ladder to the loft, and lay down, staring up at the ceiling, a silly grin on your face.

Your mother shifted, turning to face you, her eyes still closed. "What happened?" She whispered.

"Nothing, we just talked," you lied.

"Hmm," she murmured, turning onto her side, facing away from you. "He's quite handsome," she added, her voice barely audible.

"I think so," you agreed, closing your eyes.

It was a long time before you could sleep, your thoughts racing, remembering his scent, and the warmth of his hands. You were nervous, and excited. And for the first time in your life, you found yourself looking forward to the winter months.

The next few weeks passed quickly. Elijah came to visit as often as possible. Each day the two of you would steal a few moments together, sometimes walking, sometimes sitting in the forest and talking. But you always managed to find a moment to share a kiss, his touch leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Elijah and Niklaus were invited to stay for the winter, the two of them joining the daily hunting parties, helping with the preparations for the coming season. In exchange, two men from your village would return to their home and spend the winter there. It was a beneficial agreement for all involved, and the brothers were welcome in the village.

Today, you and Elijah were gathering mushrooms in the forest. Your basket was full, and you sat on a rock, watching him search. He was crouched near the base of a tree, and looked over his shoulder at you, a playful glint in his eye.

"I'm afraid I'm not as fast at finding these as you," he teased.

"I know these forests better than anyone," you replied, standing and walking over to him.

"Do you now?"

You nodded, smiling as you knelt down beside him. You could smell the faint hint of wood smoke and herbs on him, and the scent made your stomach flip.

"And what other talents do you have?" He asked, his tone light, teasing. "Can you also predict the weather? Or tell the future?"

You gave him a playful shove, and he made a dramatic show of toppling over. He pulled you down on top of him, and the two of you rolled across the forest floor. Leaves and sticks tangled in your hair, and dirt stained your clothes. You didn't care, it felt good to be so close to him.

The laughter faded, and the mood changed. Your body pressed against his, his arms holding you tight. His breathing was quick, his gaze intense, making heat coil in the pit of your belly.

"I can tell the future," you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his.

He hummed, closing his eyes. "Oh?"

"Mmm," you nodded, kissing him. "I see one with you."

You felt his manhood stir against your thigh, and a jolt of excitement ran through you. His hand moved lower, coming to rest on your rear, and you gasped when he squeezed it. You wanted more, and you rocked your hips against his, earning a soft groan, his grip on you tightening.

"We should stop," he said, his words at odds with his actions.

"Do we have to?" You asked, nipping his lip.

"Unfortunately, yes," he replied, though his hands remained where they were. "If not, your father will likely kill me."

You pulled back a little, and sighed. "You're probably right."

You rolled off him, and lay on the ground beside him, looking up at the clouds. Your chest rising and falling rapidly.

He turned his head, looking over at you. His lips were pink and swollen, his eyes dark and full of uncertainty. "Did I upset you?"

You met his gaze, and shook your head. "No, I'm just..." you paused, trying to think of how to phrase it. "I'm not used to feeling this way."

"Neither am I," he admitted, rolling onto his side, facing you.

"How did it come to this?" You asked, shaking your head. "You've only been here a short time, and already, I cannot imagine my life without you."

He propped himself up on his elbow, reaching over to pluck a leaf from your hair. "I have no answers," he said. "But I know I cannot bear the thought of losing you."

You sat up, and leaned in to kiss him again. "Will you speak with my father? About us?"

"I will," he nodded, getting to his feet and helping you up. "But perhaps we should wait until after the solstice. The villagers are preparing for the festival, I do not wish to cause a distraction."

"All right," you agreed.

He took your hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "I'll see you at the festival?"

"Yes," you smiled. "Until then."

"Until then," he replied, stealing one more kiss before heading back toward the village.

You watched him leave, your heart pounding, and your body aching with a need you had never felt before. Imagining him as your husband, and all that would entail, had you blushing and giddy. Now you could only hope that your father would agree.

The days leading up to the solstice were busy, the entire village preparing for the festivities. A large bonfire was built, and tables were set up. The men and women prepared the food and drink, the children helped gather the firewood. Everyone was excited, and eager to celebrate the shortest day of the year, knowing that the days would only grow longer from there.

Elijah and Niklaus had brought back a rather large elk, which had been butchered, and spiced, and placed on a spit over the fire. The smell was delicious, and people were milling about, chatting and laughing. They were the talk of the village, the strangers who had come in and brought such a great bounty.

Your father had been quite impressed, and the two of them were welcomed among the men, even being allowed to take part in the ceremonies. It warmed your heart to see Elijah getting on so well with your family. You were certain that he could convince your father to let the two of you wed.

"There is my beautiful girl," your father said, walking over and placing an arm around your shoulders. "Your first winter as a woman. It seems like only yesterday, you were still playing with wooden dolls," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Not much has changed," you laughed, nodding toward a group of children, who were dancing and singing.

"True," he agreed, letting out a small sigh. "Soon enough, you will be a mother yourself. Time moves so quickly."

"You could have more," you teased, leaning into his embrace. "A sister would be nice."

He gave a little chuckle, and kissed the top of your head. "Perhaps. But I have the most wonderful daughter, how could any other compare?"

"Thank you, father," you smiled. "Do you really think I'm a woman now?"

"I do," he nodded, looking down at you. "In a few years, you'll be married, and raising a family of your own."

You glanced over at Elijah, and smiled.

"A few years?" You echoed, looking up at your father. "Why so long?"

He let out a sigh, and his brow furrowed. "Your mother and I wish to find the perfect match for you," he explained. "We want to ensure that the man is strong, and smart. A good hunter, and a capable leader. Not too young, not too old. And most importantly, a good man."

You looked back over at Elijah, watching as he spoke with a few men. You were certain that he was the one, but you knew it would be best to not mention him just yet.

"I understand," you replied, glancing up at your father. "I'll keep an eye out."

"Good," he said, giving your shoulders a squeeze. "Now, go dance with your friends, the gods are smiling down on us this night."

"I will," you told him, giving him a quick hug.

As the evening went on, the food was served, and the drinking continued. The bonfire was lit, and everyone began to dance.

Your friends grabbed your hand and pulled you into the circle. The flames danced in the wind, and the music echoed through the village square. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and everyone was happy and cheerful.

Elijah and Niklaus joined in, dancing and drinking. They were a bit clumsy, but they picked up the steps quickly. You felt a little shy, being so close to Elijah, knowing how your body had reacted the last time. But he seemed to be keeping his distance, not wanting to upset your father.

As the night wore on, the children began to drift off, and the adults grew more boisterous. People began pairing off, heading to the shadows, away from prying eyes. You caught Elijah's gaze, and your cheeks heated up, quickly looking away.

The music slowed, and you noticed your father and mother slip away, a knowing look in their eyes. You knew what they were up to, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"What is it?" Elijah asked, coming up behind you.

"They're going to sneak off and do...well, you know," you replied, cheeks burning. "Marriage things," you added, a little breathless.

He laughed, and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into a quick kiss.

You stared at him, shocked, then turned to glance around, but no one was paying any attention.

"You shouldn't have done that," you scolded him, glancing over your shoulder.

"Come, I have something to show you," he said, taking your hand and leading you toward the woods.

"Elijah," you whispered, glancing around nervously.

"It's fine," he assured you, squeezing your hand.

He led you away from the bonfire, toward the edge of the woods. There were still a few people wandering around, but none were paying the two of you any mind.

You followed him into the darkness, and after a few moments, the sounds of the village grew distant. He came to a stop near a large tree, and turned to face you.

"Wait here, close your eyes," he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose.

You did as he asked, closing your eyes, a nervous flutter in your stomach. He stepped away, and you could hear twigs snapping, and the smell of smoke reached your nostrils.

"Elijah?"

"Patience," he chuckled.

You heard the rustle of fabric, and then his warm breath tickled your cheek.

"Open your eyes," he whispered.

You opened your eyes, and let out a gasp. There was a blanket spread on the ground, surrounded by candles, the flames flickering and dancing.

"This is lovely," you breathed.

"I hoped you would like it," he said, leading you over to the blanket and helping you sit down.

"How did you do all this?" You asked, looking around at the candles.

"Niklaus," he explained, sitting beside you. "He thinks I should woo you properly."

"Oh?" You grinned. "Woo me, hmm?"

He blushed, his gaze moving down to the blanket.

You lifted his chin, and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. He responded eagerly, deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and shifted to straddle his lap. Giggling softly as his hands moved to your rear.

You could see the glow of the fire through the trees, and hear the faint sounds of the celebration, but you were alone, and free to be together.

He broke the kiss, his dark eyes shining in the candlelight. "I want to make my intentions known," he whispered, brushing his nose against yours. "I wish to marry you, if you will have me."

"Yes," you breathed, nodding eagerly.

"You're certain?" He asked, his expression serious. "It is not too soon?"

"No, I want this," you said, smiling. "I love you."

"And I, you," he whispered, his hand moving up to cup your cheek.

"I wish we could get married tonight," you said, resting your forehead against his.

He hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Have you... Uhm..." you stammered, your face heating up. "That is, have you ever...you know...before?"

His cheeks flushed, and his hands fell to his sides. "No, I haven't," he confessed. "Although I would very much like to."

"Oh," you breathed, his words sending a rush of desire through you.

You could feel the bulge in his trousers, and the knowledge that he was aroused only fueled your own excitement. You rolled your hips, and a groan rumbled in his chest.

"Y/N," he said, his voice strained.

"Yes?"

"We should stop," he whispered, his hands gripping your waist.

"Should we?" You asked, rocking your hips again, delighting in the way his breath caught.

"I think so," he nodded, his gaze meeting yours.

You could see the conflict in his eyes, his desire for you warring with his sense of honor.

"I think we should stay," you whispered, leaning closer, brushing your lips against his. "Unless you're afraid of me, and my womanly wiles."

"Afraid?" He scoffed. "Hardly."

"Good," you smiled, kissing him.

His hands tightened around your waist, and he moaned into the kiss, deepening it. You could feel the tension in his body, his restraint wavering.

You pulled back, breathless, and looked into his eyes. You saw the desire there, and the love, and knew you were ready. You pulled on the strings in the front of your dress, and loosened the garment, slipping it off your shoulders and revealing your bare chest.

You wanted to etch the look on his face into your memory forever. The mixture of awe, admiration, and desire. He was trying not to just stare at your chest, his hands twitching at his sides, as if fighting the urge to touch.

You took one of his hands, and brought it to your breast, his palm warm and soft against your skin. His breath hitched, and his pupils dilated, his gaze moving from his hand to your face.

"You are so soft," he whispered, his thumb brushing against the sensitive peak.

You let out a quiet moan, your lips parting, your head falling back. He took advantage, and pressed kisses along your jaw, and down the column of your neck, his other hand sliding up to knead your other breast.

His lips moved lower, and he brushed his mouth against the swell of one of your breasts, and the sensation sent a thrill through you. You had never been touched like this, and you could feel the dampness growing between your thighs.

He took your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, and the feeling was indescribable. A rush of heat flooded your veins, the cold air suddenly forgotten. Your hands moved into his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark curls.

His other hand cupped the swell of your breast, his fingers plucking and teasing the peak, eliciting little gasps and moans from you. You had never felt such pleasure, the gods were surely smiling down upon the two of you.

"Elijah," you breathed, your hips moving against him, seeking friction.

He let go of your nipple with a wet pop, his gaze moving back to yours. His lips were pink, and swollen, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. He was panting, his chest rising and falling, his hands moving down to rest on your hips.

"My dear," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "I would very much like to lay with you, if you are certain this is what you want."

You nodded, and kissed him, his hands moving up your back and pulling you close.

He lowered you onto the blanket, his body covering yours. His weight felt good, solid and comforting, and you let out a soft sigh. He kissed his way down your neck, pausing to press kisses to your shoulder and chest, pulling a giggle from you.

You reached down and tugged at his tunic, and he pulled back long enough to yank the garment over his head. Your hands moved over his torso, exploring the contours of his muscles, admiring his strength. He was beautiful, and you couldn't help but wonder what the rest of him would look like.

Your cheeks felt warm, your whole body thrumming with desire. Your gaze met his, and you saw a similar mix of lust and nervousness in his eyes.

"What now?" You asked, a little breathless.

He gave a soft chuckle, and leaned down to kiss you, his hands moving over your hips and thighs, pushing up the skirt of your dress. You gasped when his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your small clothes.

"I've heard from the other men... that they have to... prepare the woman, first," he explained, a slight tremble in his voice.

"Oh," you breathed, a new wave of desire washing over you.

His fingers tugged at the string holding your undergarment on, and he slowly slid the garment down your legs, his eyes fixed on the newly exposed flesh.

"Elijah," you whispered, shifting beneath him.

He tossed your undergarment aside, and ran his hands up the insides of your thighs, gently pushing them apart. You bit your lip, feeling a little self-conscious, but when he leaned down and kissed the patch of curls, all thoughts fled from your mind.

You were certain that the gods had made you for each other. You felt his breath on the most sensitive part of you, and when his tongue brushed against it, a bolt of pleasure shot through you, and you tugged on his hair, trying to pull him closer.

He continued licking and sucking, the sounds making your face flush. He pushed your thighs up and open, exposing more of you to him.

You looked down, watching the way he tentatively tasted you, he was eager and curious, and his attentions were sending a steady rush of heat and pressure to your core.

He found the spot that made you whimper, and began sucking on it, drawing out the pleasure, making you moan and shake. He seemed encouraged by the sound, his movements becoming bolder, more sure.

The heat grew, the pleasure building, and you found yourself grinding against his face, chasing the sensation.

He let out a groan, and the vibration only added to the delicious torment. You felt like you were going to explode, the tension reaching its peak, and when he gently bit down on the sensitive nub, you came undone.

You arched off the ground, stars exploding behind your eyes. Your legs clamped around his head, trapping him in place, but he didn't seem to mind, continuing to lick and suck until the pleasure became too much.

You pulled on his hair, and he lifted his head, his mouth glistening in the firelight. You stared at him, panting and sweaty, wondering how it could have been so much better than the whispers had suggested.

He crawled up your body, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the flavor heady and intoxicating. He smiled against your lips, and you reached between the two of you, tugging at the laces on his trousers.

"May I?" You asked, the tips of your fingers dipping beneath the waistband.

He nodded, a soft moan escaping him as your hand closed around his shaft. It was warm, hard, and velvety smooth. You stroked him, enjoying the way his face contorted with pleasure, his hips rocking into your touch.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Your touch is much different than my own."

"I should hope so," you chuckled. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," he groaned.

"Good," you smiled, your hand moving up and down his length, exploring what made him groan and move his hips.

"Enough," he panted, pulling away. "I do not wish to spill myself."

You chuckled and laid back, pulling him down on top of you. He tried to line himself up with your entrance, but he kept missing, his hand shaking. You let out a soft giggle, and took his shaft in your hand, guiding him into position.

"Like this," you whispered.

You felt him press against your entrance, the pressure unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He leaned down and kissed you, his hips slowly thrusting forward, easing his length inside you.

The stretch burned a little, the feeling of fullness was overwhelming. You clung to him, his arms shaking, his breath hot against your skin. He was trying to be gentle, and you could tell it was taking all his self-control.

You ran a hand up his spine, feeling the tension in his body, the way his muscles quivered. You had never felt closer to anyone, the intimacy was almost too much, the emotion threatening to spill over.

"Are you all right?" He whispered, his gaze meeting yours. "Does it feel good?"

You nodded, "how about you?"

He chuckled, "better than anything I have ever felt."

You grinned, and lifted your hips, letting him know it was all right to move. He did, pulling out almost all the way, then easing back in. You could see the concentration on his face, his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed.

"More," you pleaded, wanting to feel him fully.

He complied, his pace increasing, the feeling of him moving inside you driving away the ache and leaving only pleasure.

"I'm afraid I will not last much longer," he breathed, his lips brushing against your cheek.

"It's all right," you assured him, reaching down in-between the two of you, feeling where you were connected.

It was wet, and warm; the coarse curls of his pelvis tickled your palm. You touched his shaft, stroking him as he thrust into you, and his hips bucked, a low moan escaping him.

"Y/N," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hips snapping forward.

His body stiffened, and his breath caught, his shaft pulsing inside you, and you could feel the warm flood of his release. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, both of you panting and trembling.

He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours, his cheeks flushed, a hint of a smile on his lips. You leaned up and kissed him, pouring all your love and happiness into it.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

"Are you all right?" He whispered.

"More than all right," you told him, running a hand through his hair.

"As am I," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "We should get cleaned up and return to the celebration before we are missed."

"Or we could stay here," you suggested, smiling mischievously.

"Tempting," he chuckled. "But not wise."

"Fine," you sighed.

He pulled out of you, and you felt a twinge of loss, the cold air reminding you how wet and swollen you still were. He got up and fetched his tunic, cleaning you both up as best he could.

"There," he said, helping you up. "That should do until we can get a proper bath."

"I would very much like to bathe with you," you told him, grinning.

"As would I," he replied, handing you your dress.

You fixed your dress as he snuffed out the candles and collected them in the blanket, sneaking glances at each other, the blush still lingering on your cheeks. Once you were presentable, you took his hand, and followed him back to the celebration.

The sounds of the village grew louder, the voices and music carrying through the trees. He paused, and pulled you into a kiss, his hands resting on your waist. You melted into him, a familiar warmth spreading through you. He pulled away, looking down at you, his expression serious.

"I've known since the first time I saw you," he confessed, his cheeks turning pink. "That this is where I'm meant to be. That you are the one."

"Elijah," you whispered, tears burning in the back of your eyes. "I love you."

"And I love you," he smiled, kissing your forehead. "I will speak with your father tomorrow. There are wedding plans to be made."

"You will?" You squealed, throwing your arms around his neck.

"Of course," he chuckled, hugging you tightly.

He kissed you again, his lips moving slowly, savoring the moment. He reluctantly pulled away, taking your hand.

"Come, we must get back," he whispered, tugging you toward the village.

You followed him, the grin never leaving your face.

Your father would surely be surprised, but Elijah was a good man, a strong warrior, and would be a good husband. Your mother would be delighted, she had always liked Elijah. And, hopefully, that would convince your father to agree.

You couldn't wait to tell everyone the good news. You would finally have the wedding you always dreamed of.

The gods had been smiling down on the both of you, and tonight would be a night you would remember forever.

Snow had fallen in the early hours of the morning after the festival, and it continued for nearly a week. The wind howled, and the village was blanketed in white. It was a gloomy, dark and damp, the wind blowing fiercely, causing the shutters to bang against the wall.

A storm like this would keep everyone inside for at least a month. Fortunately your village was prepared, with plenty of stores and provisions, and the people were content to remain indoors, huddled near the fire.

You wished you were curled up next to Elijah throughout all this, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill in the air. Instead, you were trapped inside with your parents for nearly a month now, trying to keep the gloom at bay.

Your father had only left home once since the solstice, checking in on the villagers and making sure everyone was safe. He returned with good news, the livestock had survived the storm, and the storehouses were well stocked.

You helped your mother prepare food, and kept the hearth burning. The house was warm and cozy, but you couldn't stop the worry from creeping in. You hadn't been feeling well for weeks, food seemed to turn your stomach, and you'd grown irritable, snapping at your parents for no reason.

Your mother had taken notice, and was watching you closely, her eyes narrowing.

"Come sit," she called from her chair, the furs draped over her legs.

"I'm busy," you sighed, adding a few logs to the fire.

"Your father is seeing to the animals," she pointed out, a knowing look in her eye. "Sit," she said firmly, patting the empty seat next to her.

You let out a huff, and plopped down, crossing your arms.

"I can tell something is troubling you," she murmured, reaching out and stroking your hair.

"I just wish to see my friends," you said softly, picking at a loose thread on the cushion. "It's so dull and boring here."

"Ah, yes," she nodded. "And is there one particular friend you would like to see?"

"I suppose," you said, shrugging, feigning disinterest.

"I think there's a young man who is just as eager to see you," she smiled, reaching out and taking your hand. "Do you wish to speak of it?"

"No," you mumbled, not meeting her eye.

She was quiet for a moment, and then cleared her throat. "Are you in love?"

"Mother," you gasped, glancing toward the door, a nervous flutter in your belly.

"I was once a young girl, I know what it feels like," she smiled, squeezing your hand. "You should have seen me, I was hopeless, sighing and daydreaming. Your father had me under a spell," she grinned, a faraway look in her eyes.

"Really?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yes," she giggled, her cheeks turning pink. "We... don't tell him I told you this...," she whispered, leaning in. "We would... sneak off and feast on the fruits… far before planting the tree," she giggled.

"Mother!" You exclaimed, your face flaming.

"I was very much in love," she said, patting your hand. "As are you, it seems."

"I...," you hesitated, the words getting stuck in your throat.

"Tell me, my child," she murmured, giving you a warm smile. "Do you wish to marry him?"

"I... Yes," you nodded, returning her smile. "I love him."

"And does he love you?"

"Yes, he does," you smiled.

Her hand moved to your stomach, and she rubbed slow circles. Her eyes met yours, a knowing look in them.

"Does he know?"

"Know what?" You asked, confused.

"My dear, you've been unwell," she explained. "Has it not occurred to you why?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Your body has changed, I noticed it the other morning when you were dressing. Your breasts are fuller, your waist is a little thicker. And," she stopped, and reached down, taking your hand and guiding it to your stomach. "Your belly is softer."

"I...uhm," you shook your head, panic welling up inside you.

"I'm not saying this to scare you," she soothed. "This is a good thing. The gods have blessed you."

"Oh," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

"When was the last time you bled?" She asked, tilting her head.

"I...don't know," you admitted. "A moon ago? Before the snow fell."

"Is that around the time you and Elijah were...feasting on the fruits?" She asked, lowering her voice.

You nodded, and felt the tears spill over.

"Don't be afraid," she cooed, gathering you into her arms."I'm not angry, I promise,"

"Father will be," you mumbled, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Perhaps not," she replied, her voice gentle. "If Elijah is a good man, he will take care of you. You and the baby. And your father will come around."

"You really think so?"

"I do," she assured you. "I will speak with him."

"What if the baby isn't his?" You asked, chewing on your lip.

"You've been with no other men, have you?" She said, her tone growing stern, her eyes hard.

"No," you shook your head.

She paused for a moment then laughed, and squeezed your shoulders. "Then the child is Elijah's."

"But what if father doesn't believe it? What if-,"

"Hush," she said firmly. "It will be alright. Do not worry."

"Are you certain?"

"I am," she smiled, stroking your cheek.

"You're not angry with me?" You asked, feeling a little guilty.

"No, I'm not," she assured you. "But I would prefer the wedding take place sooner rather than later."

Your conversation was interrupted by the sounds of your father returning and more voices joining his.

"Come," your mother whispered, standing and reaching for your hand. "I'll make us some tea."

You nodded, and followed her to the table.

"Good afternoon, my loves," your father greeted you, stomping the snow off his boots.

Niklaus and Elijah followed behind, they had brought food and supplies, the two of them covered in a thick layer of snow.

"It's a good thing these two came along," your father commented, shaking his head. "I might have gotten lost out there."

"It is quite a blizzard," Niklaus chuckled, pulling his cloak off.

"These fine gentlemen are going to stay with us until the storm passes," your father said, glancing at your mother. "The snow has caved in the roof of their hut."

"Well," your mother clapped her hands. "That settles it. Let me get a hot meal on the table."

You watched Elijah as he pulled off his cloak, the fur falling away, revealing his strong arms and shoulders. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and quickly averted your eyes.

"Sweetie, will you show them where the linens are kept? We'll need to make up the beds."

"Of course," you murmured, standing and crossing the room.

"Here," Elijah said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a bundle. "We brought extra furs," he smiled.

"Thank you," you murmured, feeling his gaze on you.

Niklaus helped your father with the firewood and Elijah followed you to the backroom, helping you pull the linens out.

As soon as you were out of sight from the others, he pulled you into his arms, his lips finding yours.

"I've missed you," he breathed, his lips brushing over your skin.

You pressed your finger to his lips, shushing him. He smiled, his teeth nibbling on the digit. You blushed, and pulled your hand away, taking his hand and placing it on your stomach. His brow furrowed, and he looked down.

"I have a surprise," you whispered, biting your lip.

"A surprise?" He grinned, his hand sliding around to your back, pressing you closer.

"Our baby," you breathed, looking up at him, your heart thudding in your chest.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head.

"Are you certain?"

You nodded, and felt the tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You weren't sure if it was relief, or happiness, or fear, but it all came crashing down.

He wiped the tears from your cheeks, a wide smile on his face.

"Don't cry," he soothed, kissing your forehead. "I will take care of you."

"But my father," you sniffled.

He smiled and took your hand, leading you back into the main room. Your father was sitting at the table, while Niklaus stoked the fire and your mother was cooking, their voices filling the room.

She looked at you, and smiled softly. Your father glanced over, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of your hand in Elijah's.

"What's this?" He asked, his voice stern.

"Sir," Elijah started, swallowing nervously. "I know that we have not known each other long, but I have come to care deeply for your daughter. I would like to ask your permission to take her as my wife."

The silence that followed was deafening. Niklaus froze, and slowly stood, watching the scene unfold. The expression on your father's face was completely unreadable, his eyes focused on the two of you.

"Do you know what you're asking me, boy?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded. "I love her, and I will care for her."

Your father leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms. His gaze went to Niklaus, who was still standing frozen by the hearth, a deer in the torchlight.

"Is your brother a good man?"

"He is, sir," Niklaus answered, his voice strained.

"Can he provide for her, can he protect her? Can he protect his children?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded.

Your father turned back to Elijah, his eyes narrowing.

"What do you intend to do when the snows have cleared, and the ground thaws?"

"I have found a piece of land not far from here," he explained. "With a river nearby, and plenty of forest. It's close enough to the village that it will not be difficult to travel."

"I see," your father murmured, glancing over at you.

You stared back at him, and tried not to let the hope show on your face.

"My child," he said, his voice soft. "Is this what you want?"

"It is," you nodded.

"I see," he said again, sighing softly. "The gods have spoken. It seems there will be a wedding."

"Sir?" Elijah asked, his voice wavering.

"I'm giving you my blessing," your father smiled.

You let out a happy sob, and threw your arms around Elijah's neck. He lifted you off the floor, his lips finding yours in a joyful kiss. You were dimly aware of the cheering coming from your parents and Niklaus, and you clung to him, the tears spilling down your cheeks.

You could have kissed him forever, but your mother cleared her throat, and you reluctantly pulled away.

"Come, dinner is ready.” she said, smiling.

Elijah set you down, and gave your hand a squeeze. He led you to the table, and pulled out a chair for you. Niklaus and your parents joined you, and soon the sounds of eating and talking filled the room.

Your mother poured the tea, and you glanced up at Elijah, watching as he ate, his face flushed, his eyes shining. He met your gaze and smiled, a warmth spreading through you.

"Father... I have something else to tell you," you murmured, taking a sip of tea.

"Yes?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You will have a grandchild soon," you whispered, biting your lip.

This time, the silence that followed wasn't deafening, but absolutely terrifying. The expression on your fathers face went from happy to complete shock. Niklaus choked, and began coughing violently, but you suspected he wasn't choking, but simply trying to cover up his laughter.

Your father's gaze went from you, then to Elijah, who had the good sense to look abashed, before finally settling on your mother, who simply shrugged, and continued to eat.

"So," he finally sighed, rubbing his face. "The wedding should be sooner rather than later."

"Yes, father," you nodded, your voice shaking.

He glanced at you, and reached over, taking your hand.

"You're sure?"

"I am."

You watched his face, and were relieved to see his eyes fill with joy.

"Well," he grinned. "It seems I'm getting an early wedding gift."

"Really?" You squeaked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

"Yes," he laughed. "My little girl is having a baby. What better reason is there to celebrate?”

"Father," you cried, standing and hugging him.

He embraced you, and you could feel the tension melting away.

"The gods are truly smiling down on us," he chuckled, squeezing you tightly.

"They are," you agreed, giving him a watery smile.

"To new beginnings," your mother declared, raising her glass.

"To new beginnings," everyone echoed, and the conversation flowed, wedding plans being made.

As you listened to the conversations going on around you, and felt the warmth of the fire on your skin, and the heat of Elijah's hand resting on your knee, you couldn't help but feel that everything was going to be okay. You couldn't have asked for a better man to spend your life with.

The winter storm would pass, the snow would melt, and the sun would shine down on the village once more.

Spring was just around the corner.

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

197 notes · View notes