#vampire oc/human

[omgeveryusernameistakenicanteven]

A Vampire, Not a Monster!

Vampire OC x Reader

a/n: minimal proofreading, we die like men.

Being lost plays tricks on your mind.

That’s what Y/n repeats in her mind as she walks through the ever darkening woods. She’s heard noises she couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go swimming in a secluded lake just a couple hours before sunset. She thought it’d be fine, nothing would ever happen to her. Now, hopelessly lost, that sentiment seems way stupider.

A grunt sounds to her right. Is that a bear? Oh god, what do bears sound like? No, no, being lost plays tricks on your mind. Besides, it sounded too human. Of course an insane person in the woods imitating bears is only a little better than an actual real bear.

Y/n keeps walking, a little quieter now, or she would have been much quieter if she hadn’t stepped on a dry twig. The grunting sounds stop. God if this was a horror movie I’d so be dead, the only stick in the entire forest that could make such a perfect snapping noise and of course I step right on it. I stay frozen in place, still suspicious at the lack of noise.

That lack of noise suddenly turns to an explosion of it, like something huge charging blindly through the brush. She hears a horrible sounding roar, almost like a mix of a man screaming and a bear roaring. Her body feels like she’s stuck in cement, unable to move and breathing much too quickly. Then there’s eyeshine. Eyeshine 9 feet off the ground and approaching at startling speed.

The next thing Y/n is aware of are thorn bushes tearing at her skin as she tears past them. There’s a horrible screaming sound, much higher pitched than the bearman’s roaring. It takes her too long to realize it’s her. That thing is behind her still, pounding through the underbrush as if it’s a manicured lawn. Thinking quickly she dives off the side of the trail, through some deadfall and keeps running on the other side. Getting even more thoroughly lost, a voice in the back of her mind whispers.

That escape tactic seems to have worked, at least a little, the bear-man is still on her tail but further back. Y/n doesn’t stop running like hell, hurtling over fallen leaves and logs alike. The beast is still in hot pursuit and her vision tunnels to a faint light some ways off. She runs and runs. Should try out for track and field when I get home. Pretty sure I’ve never run this fast in my life. With herculean effort she throws herself over a particularly tall, dense patch of bramble and over onto the other side.

On the other side Y/n leaps up, starts running, and is stopped immediately when she runs face first into something. Immediately sure it’s the beast she ready herself to fight, not that she’d win. Hands restrain her wrists and as she attempts to pull away she glances up at her attacker. Instead of a 9 foot tall bear-human hybrid she’s staring into the eyes of an objectively very handsome, though somehow off putting man.

She sobs with relief at the sight of him, but realizes just as quickly a massive problem. Now we’re both in danger of dying. Way to endanger innocent bystanders. Despite her best efforts she can only get out a half intelligible “It’s coming, please, somethi-,” she pauses as more sobs wrack her, “some THING. I don’t know what it is, a bear? Please we need to leave.”

Throughout her entire rambling plea the face of the man grew grimmer and the sounds of the beast grew closer. Before she can truly process what’s happening he shoves Y/n behind him and snatches something up from the ground. Just as he dons the helmet the beast barrels into the clearing.

It stops for just a second, clearly taken aback by finding what appears to be a fully armored knight in place of a screaming woman. The man draws his sword, and with it knocks aside the first strike of the beast’s club. Not that I’m an expert at swordsmanship or whatever but I don’t think what he did was quite..possible. Neither the man nor the monster seem to care what is possible as the fight progresses. Y/n has to scurry back out of the way as the beast charges at the man, swinging its massive club in wild arcs in front of it. From this angle, the beast front lit from the fire, she gets a much-too-close look at its features.

This..beastman is nearly indescribable, ugly is a great start though. Its lips permanently stretched back, showing far too much of it’s protruding gums and teeth, beady black deep set eyes gleam with malice in the firelight, short round ears atop its head, very much similar to a bear though with this thing’s mangy, sparse coat they are much less cute, and a thick layer of fat covers what have to be thickly muscled, deformed limbs. Very much similar to a bear in that last respect, at least.

In Y/n’s musings she didn't notice that thing had taken a step closer, and raised its club with a wild, horrible look in its eyes. By the time she does it is too late to do anything but scream and try to drop to the ground as quickly as possible. Curled into the fetal position she awaits death by mad scientist experiment gone wrong. Not really the “peaceful, surrounded by family” way I was hoping to go. One last earth shaking roar, then soft footsteps. Maybe death has come to get me.

Instead of a robed, scythe-wielding figure Y/n is met with cold, expressionless metal slits and a warm, gloved hand on her arm. The knight is leaning over her. She blinks once, then again, then surge forward and wraps her arms around the man, hanging from his neck. Before she knows what’s happening she’s crying again, thanking him over and over, asking if he’s alright, what that thing was, how he managed to kill it, and a million other questions. He doesn’t speak, just wraps one arm around her and lets her carry on.

When her rambling stops and breathing slows he scoops his other arm under her legs and sets her on a log by the fire. The beast had been dragged off to the edge of the clearing, another seemingly impossible task. Her knight in shining armor, literally, sits opposite before removing his helmet. She doesn't know how she didn’t notice the rest of the armor when she’d barreled headlong into him. They sit in silence like this until she can hardly bear it.

“You’re not from here.” His voice is deep, and oddly melodious, for a medieval knight at least. Finding it hard to speak she shakes my head. “What is your name?”

“It’s..it’s Y/n.”

“Beautiful, it suits you.” He says, with a dip of his head. Sure he means nothing by it, but his compliment makes her blush and smile, dipping her head slightly.

“Thank you, what’s yours?”

He takes a long while to answer, maybe he’s making one up, or debating whether to even tell, he interrupts her thoughts, “Arcan.”

“Nice to meet you, Arcan. I wish it wasn’t after I was chased by a giant monster though.” Arcan laughs with her. It has to be the most beautiful sound in the world. 

After they quiet down again he says, “About being chased by a beastman, how’d you come to be here? It’s dangerous in these woods, a lady shouldn’t be traveling alone at night, no one should.” She decides not to mention that he too is alone at night in the woods. Even in the dim light she can see him eye the swimsuit and coverup she’s wearing. Oh, right, this must seem downright scandalous if everyone here dressed in Ye Olde Fashion.

“I’m not..uh..traveling necessarily. I was going swimming at the lake and got lost on my way back. The sun set and it got too dark to really see. Then I wandered for a while, heard that thing grunting, and next thing I know I’m running through the woods at mach 1.”

A small smile pulls at his lips and he tilts his head, “Mach 1?”

“Oh, uh, like REALLY fast. I think I’m more lost than I originally thought. Where I’m from those,” Y/n jabs a thumb towards the ‘beastman’ for emphasis, “don’t exist and the armor you’re wearing would be considered..well..old-fashioned.”

Arcan nods, “I had noticed your odd clothing, but thought it best not to mention. Are you not cold?”

Y/n hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it but it is a bit chilly. A cool breeze runs through the leaves and along her back, and though her front is warmed by the fire she still shivers and nods. He stands, slipping his cape from his shoulders as he walks around the fire then placing it around hers. It’s heavier than expected but warm and comforting against the chill night air.

He makes food, and shares his water and company until the moon is high in the sky.

When Y/n yawns yet again Arcan shepherds her into his small shelter, less a tent more a piece of canvas propped up with sticks, the highest part maybe two feet off the ground. Once she’s inside it becomes clear this is sort of a one man situation. 

Arcan seems to have the same thought, he lets out a thoughtful hum and says, “Why don’t you sleep in here? I’ll stay by the fire.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own tent.”

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She snorts, “What a gentleman, but seriously, it’s fine. Just get in here.”

He laughs at that and starts the likely lengthy process of taking off his armor, “If you insist.”

Once Arcan is down to his “normal” clothes he crawls into the tent and lies down next to Y/n. She can feel him radiating heat. Is he really that hot, am I just that thirsty and imagining it or am I just ultra alert because of my recent near death experience? The world’s greatest mysteries. He seems to fall asleep easily, and she curls up underneath his cape and tries to do the same.

A howl pierces the night, waking Y/n. Is that a normal howl or one of Satan’s rejects singing the song of its people? Arcan stirs, but doesn’t fully wake, going by dog rules that means it’s probably not that big a deal. Still, she can’t seem to fall back asleep. After turning over for the fifth time in hopes she’ll magically knock herself unconscious she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Why are you still up?” Oohh-kay, maybe thirstier than originally anticipated; that barely awake voice is doing something to me.

“Uh..just can’t sleep.”

For a moment there’s silence, then blankets shifting, “Cold?” he mumbles, throwing half the blanket over Y/n. Everything in her brain screeches, we’re under the same blankets, that’s a big deal! She turns onto her back, ready to reply, and freezes. His eyes are shining in the dim light.

“You’re…”, Y/n feels like she can hardly breath looking at him. This is so stupid! He’s barely conscious and you’re still terrified? One side of her brain hisses, but it's the other that speaks “You’re not human.”

Arcan’s eyes open fully, and he regards Y/n for a minute, “No..but I won’t hurt you.”

Definitely not at all suspicious. Maybe I should take my chances with the furries on steroids. I don’t know though, so far Arcan seems..normal enough. Well aside from the knight armor, but that is normal here and I’m the weird one in that department. “Okay.” She says, more to herself than anyone else.

“And you won’t hurt me?”

Y/n stares for a moment, “No.”

The dim moonlight shows a sleepy smile on his face, “Good, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning they have breakfast and go about packing up the camp. Arcan gives Y/n a leg up onto his horse, a beautiful dark bay mare, then walks beside, leading her and apologizing that he doesn’t have his ‘normal one’. Whatever that means, horses not being able to carry two people long distances is perfectly normal. Maybe he’s got a super horse stowed away somewhere.

It was relaxing, honestly, horses are something normal, unlike handsome men with animal eyes or beastly man-animal hybrids. Besides, the mare is probably the best horse she’s ever ridden. While marveling over his horse more questions about the man run through her mind. First and foremost being, “What are you?”

As soon as it was said Y/n claps a hand over her mouth, when she takes it off again it’s to apologize profusely. Arcan, luckily, doesn’t seem offended at all, just looks thoughtful.

“If I tell you, do you promise not to be scared?”

Can’t be that bad, can it? “I promise.”

“I’m a vampire.”

“A what??”

“A va-”

“No no, I heard you but..how? It’s not. That’s not. Vampires aren’t real.” That same beautiful laugh starts again, though this time Y/n wonders if it only sounds that way to draw people in. If he only sounds this way to draw people in. Does it technically count as being drawn in if a monster chased you in?

“Here, look,” he stops the horse and opens his mouth, pulling his lip up to show me some admittedly very vampire looking canines. “My eyes too,” and sure enough, when I lean down to look into his eyes, they aren’t brown like I assumed the night before. Rather a dark, oxblood-esque shade of red with little flecks of gold throughout. “And my ears,” he tucks his long black hair over an ear to reveal it’s pointed. “And well, the rest of me.” He gestures to the rest of himself, and in the daylight it’s clear to me that he's just a little too perfect, face a little too symmetrical and skin a little too uniformly pale. It seems obvious now, but when you know vampires don’t exist you don’t see a vampire-looking man and assume he is one.

“Besides, how do you think I’ve been walking in my armor all day? Or killed that beastman? Sure there are some skilled human swordsmen that can, but I’ve got an edge.” Huh, guess that explains the whole unnatural strength thing.

“So, if you’re a vampire, why did you save me?”

He seems to balk at this, “A vampire! Not a monster. I’m not going to leave someone to get eaten alive when I can do something about it.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t you have just sent me on my way after killing that thing?”

This is met with even more extreme disbelief, “What? For something ELSE to kill you? I’m not sure what I’m gonna do but I won’t be leaving you alone in the forests of a world you don’t even know.”

“My hero,” I say jokingly, Arcan seems to really perk up at that. He gives me a wide smile, now that I know what to look for I can’t believe I didn’t notice those canines before.

They walk through the day, as they arrive at the bottom of a wooded hill the sun is nearly set. Arcan is tired, dragging his feet slightly. Y/n can’t help but  wonder what that sort of walk would’ve done to a normal man. His mare was tall and took long strides, much faster than an average human’s walking pace. A couple times along the way he’d apologized for the time it took to get here.

“If I had Glory it wouldn’t have taken half the time!” He complains, leading me up the hill. 

Just as Y/n opens her mouth to ask about ‘Glory’ they walk through a stone archway and into a courtyard. There are stables and pastures off to the right, a manor house dead ahead and garden and more forest to the left. Arcan helps Y/n off the mare, grabbing her around the waist after she kicks her leg over her back and easing my landing, then hands the mare off to a quiet looking stable boy. “Normally I would care for her myself but I think we should get you inside. It’ll start getting cold again soon.”

Y/n nods absentmindedly, fingers going to fiddle with the neckline of the tunic he gave her. Maybe it’s some sort of weird vampire magic or just the reality of my situation setting in but there’s a horrible pit in her stomach. A hand grabs her arm and leads her to the house, despite her newfound existential dread she can’t help but admire the manor. Hey, you would too if you lived in a 600 sqft apartment. There are two fountains either side of the walking path to the front doors, surrounded by perfectly maintained grass, rose bushes, and a wide array of flowers, some of which don’t look entirely real. The outside of the house is made of natural stone, and decorated with many windows, adornments and vines of ivy. It looks straight out of a fairy tale. Technically, it is!

Inside the home is even more breathtaking, though Y/n doesn’t have much time to gawk before Arcan pulls her deeper inside. He leads her to a bedroom. This has gotta be bigger than my entire apartment.  “I’ll leave you to get settled, Lady (insert name here). If you need anything, my quarters are at the end of the hall.” With that he excuses himself, presumably to go sleep, or whatever it is vampires do to rest. Sleep in a coffin? Y/n doesn’t really know and oddly can’t really bring herself to care when faced with the lushest, most comfortable looking bed she’s ever seen.

It can only be a few hours later when Y/n is startled awake in that very same bed. She pulls the covers up to her chin, heart beating a mile a minute. After a few deep, calming breaths she peaks around the room, scared of what she may find lurking there. Looking right to left; nightstand, door, dressing table and mirror, window. Window.

A sickening howl starts again and immediately she knows that must’ve been what woke her up. Almost against her will, she tosses off the covers then creeps to the window. She’s trying to stop but just can’t, a deep curiosity already started in her. The stone windowsill is cold, and almost feels damp. She peaks over it to stare through the cold pane of glass. There, just past the wall, another one of the monsters. This one more resembles a wolf, but is equally grotesque. It turns to look at the house. A cold fear shoots through her. Logically,  it couldn’t possibly know she’s watching. At least, that’s what she thinks, until it looks up, meeting her eyes through the window.

Immediately Y/n throws herself away, landing on her butt and scrambling backwards. As she stumbles to her feet she is already turning to flee the room. Not even truly comprehending where she’s going until she’s in Arcan’s room. He’s already awake, having heard the panicked scramble. “Are you alright?”

Unsure what to say to that Y/n says nothing at all. Just stays standing in the doorway of his room, wringing her hands and sniffling to herself. Arcan wraps an arm around her shoulders and leads her to the bed. Constant soft reassurances fall from his lips, most of which aren’t intelligible. Once she’s sitting on the bed he kneels in front of her and speaks again, “Can you tell me what’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s..there was another one of those things outside. Outside the walls, it looked at me.” Y/n stammers out between sobs. Truly she didn’t think her run in with that thing affected her that severely. Now she can barely think of it without crying.

Arcan grabs her hands lightly, and looks at her with a startling intensity, “Trust me, Lady Y/n, it cannot get past the walls. Even if it could I would slay it before it could even lay hands on you.” He moves past her to sit on the bed, still watching her carefully.

Y/n sniffs, and dries her tears with a sleeve before saying, “Could I stay here tonight?”

“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.” He says, standing up once more. She looks at him confused for a moment, then when he starts walking towards a sitting area in the corner she catches his wrist.

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m letting you sleep.” Gently, he frees his wrist.

Again she grabs him, “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. You take it, I'll sleep on the ground or something.”

“I can’t allow that.” Once again he pulls away.

“Sure you can!” She says, snatching him back. “Look I’d feel horrible kicking you out of your own bed.”

“No, I won’t have a lady sleeping on the floor in my home.”

“Then sleep with me! I swear I’m not a blanket hog.”

At this he raises one eyebrow, “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, “Arcan, come on, we slept in the tent together no problem! This isn’t any different.”

He considers it for a moment, and although he doesn’t seem fully convinced he slips under the blankets. With that battle won Y/n rolls over to try to get some sleep herself. One small issue, now that she’s not arguing why he shouldn’t have to sleep in an armchair because some lady was scared of a weird looking dog, she’s focusing again on his face. His stupid, perfect face that is connected to a man (?) laying in the same bed as her that she could, theoretically, reach out and touch right now. Maybe I would get more sleep on the floor.

Eventually Y/n manages to drift off, and when she wakes warm sun is pouring through the window. Though that isn’t the only thing keeping her warm, a rather solid presence presses against her back and has an arm wrapped around her. Fearing she might ruin the moment if she wakes him she tries to keep her breath even and slow. Of course, the more you think about how your breathing the weirder your breathing gets so this just wakes the vampire faster. He probably has some sort of heightened senses too, now that she thinks about it.

Sure enough, he stirs slightly behind her. He must not be fully awake though. Instead of leaping out of bed he pulls her more snugly against him. Y/n huffs, trying to contain a laugh, “When you wake up you’re going to be so disappointed.”

Still sleepy he nuzzles into her neck, then mumbles, “I’m awake.”

[monstersholygrail]

Vampire bf spooning you in the middle of the night, nuzzling into you so roughly that it causes you to slowly wake up. As soon as he senses you’re not completely asleep, his arms curl around you and he bury’s his face in your neck. Groggily you bare your throat to him, thinking he might be hungry.

But instead he simply whines and cuddles in closer. It’s only then that you notice he’s shivering. A soft “What’s wrong, darling?” croaks past your lips. He doesn’t respond, letting his actions speak louder as his hands slip under your shirt and brush along your soft stomach as if trying to steal up all your warmth. You hiss at his touch, his usually cold skin even colder for some reason. “You’re freezing,” you can’t help but exclaim the obvious.

Your vampire bf whimpers, nodding his head within the warm fold of your neck. “Need your warmth. Need your heat, baby please,” he says in a soft whine, one hand tugging at the seam of your shorts and giving you an idea of what he means.

As soon as you’ve pulled your panties down, he’s sliding himself between the warm supple flesh of your thighs. He hisses in the space of her neck, his body shuddering with pleasure.

Your lips part, feeling his throbbing cock push its way through your legs, so close to where you need him. His tip bumping up against your clit with every snap of his hips. Arousal pools within you till it drips onto his cock. Your bf growls, hips moving faster.

“Ah, fuck! More. Please,” you beg, baring your neck once again. Your hips tilt, craving the feeling of being filled by him.

“My heart, I could devour you whole and still crave more," he rumbles, his hips bucking to catch every drop of your essence on his length.

His hand tenderly cups the underside of your neck and brings it to his lips. You sense the heat of his breath and goosebumps rise along your arms a second before you feel the sharp prick of pleasure caused by his fangs. You shiver as he slowly sinks them all the way in.

The combination of his fangs inside you and the way he slows down the rocking of his hips causes your eyes to droop as you begin to drift back to sleep. His hand massages your plush thigh, gently shifting it back over his own, legs intertwining.

With your thighs open, your bf has easy access to slide his length inside your eager and dripping walls. You both moan as he pushes past your entrance, his girth carefully stretching your precious pussy as he takes his time stuffing you full of him. Bringing a delicious dull ache to the apex of your thighs.

He settles in once he’s buried his length to the hilt, your hips fitting together like two puzzle pieces. He relaxes against your body and wraps every limb that he can around you. Cocooning your being in his protective embrace. Making you feel exactly as treasured as you are.

“That’s better,” he slurs contently in an attempt to speak with his fangs in your neck. Soon after you start to feel his skin warming back up against your own. You smile softly, finally falling back asleep and happy you were able to help him.

Never finding out that Vampires have full control over their body temperature.

[beastsoulart]

oc scribbles; vampire snuggles

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

You certainly love your poor himbo!vampire lover, but he’s definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Like all vampires, his saliva has healing properties so his victims don’t bleed out during his feedings. Because of this, he’s taken to freaking out when you get injured and immediately licking the wound, planting a soft kiss on it after.

He smells your blood, and he gets nervous. The man adores you, he’d be lost if you died!

So when you woke up to the soft ache in your cunt being combated by the pleasure of your boyfriend sucking on your clit, you were quite confused.

As you rubbed your sleepy eyes, you heard your boyfriend choking on his sobs, tears rolling down his pale cheeks as his hands held onto your thighs.

“Y-you’re gonna be okay, angel. Going to… going to make it better…” he blubbered, your blood dripping down his chin before he moved back to your aching cunt.

“Love…”

He sniffled as you reached out a hand to cup his cheek, gently swiping your blood from his lip. “I’m not injured, I’m just on my period.”

Your lover blinked, his eyes going wide, and you could tell if he could blush his cheeks would be a bright red with embarrassment.

“O-oh…”

As he pulled away, you grabbed him by the hair and guided his lips back to your pussy. “But you’re still helping, sweet thing.”

His eyes softened and he settled back down between your thighs, his cheek resting against your belly as he softly nuzzled against it. “Then I’ll take care of you… I’ll always take care of you, my angel…”

So you sat back and relaxed as he fed, making sure to gently push you over the edge and ease your pain.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a yandere werewolf, but not just any werewolf… a bounty hunter. And he has it bad for his you. Cowboy Werewolf!

Yandere Shorts: Like I Love You

Yandere werewolf x fem reader

TW: obsession, delusional themes, abo dynamic, horror, gore (mentioned), death of characters, neglectful husband, betrayal, cheating husband, forced relationship, mention of baby trapping, and behavior that should not be romanticized

Rolfe was currently on a hunt… his target is a sickly preacher’s, one that should be easy enough. Her own husband had paid him quite the pretty penny to off her. Poor little lamb didn’t stand a chance in the wilderness of this world. Not when she had enemies close to her side such as an unfaithful husband and a conniving best friend. He almost felt sorry for his prey

He arrived a day later, his clawed fingers dragged through a lock of her hair as he inhaled her scent. She smelled… delicious. And she was so vulnerable too with her nape out that just begged for his teeth to be driven into…

Rolfe shook his head before he went back into a trance when she subconsciously leaned into his touch. His hand moved up and grazed her temple that felt as if it were ablaze. Poor woman had a fever…

“Darling? Did you finally come to me?” Her voice was a bit delirious with sickness as she kissed his hands. Each kiss made him feel as if he was her beloved. It took everything in him not to loudly whine like a dog. “I missed you so much James. I’m sorry I got sick again.”

Rolfe didn’t say a word before he continued to drag his rough palms through her hair. His heart hammered in his chest and his wolf clawed inside his brain to be released. It seemed this woman before him… was his fated mate.”

Rolfe bent down and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to deeply inhaled. Oh yes… this lassy was his for the takin.

Rolfe began to slowly nurse her back to health rather than off her. An action that made his employer question him. Why on earth would a monster nurse such a nuisance back to health? She was always near death’s door. What use was such a delicate woman in the Wild West?

“When are you going to off (your name)? She’s an easy target.”

“I have honor as a bounty hunter. It must be a hunt.” Rolfe snarled at (your name)’s husband, James, the man who dared to keep her sick due to his lack of care. Had that scrawny man have no pride as a man? The pastor made him sick.

“She’s easy to pick off right now. I’d really like this to be over and done with so I can marry Helen. This is why I hired a monster-“ Rolfe picked James up from the ground by his throat as James gasped for air.

“You are a foolish, greedy man. Are you sure you are truly a man of god?” Rolfe growled, showing his fangs. His dark, muscular form largely towered over James’s lithe frame. “You’re a pathetic man.”

Rolfe soon went back to the care of (your name). The werewolf rubbed his cheeks all over her bed and her body to scent her… he needed to get rid of James’s scent. Rolfe wouldn’t let another have her and hurt her again… he’d spirit her away.

Rolfe wondered how many pups she’d want. If they’d be pretty like her but strong like him… if she’d pepper him with nips and kisses everyday. If she’d beg him for his knot on the next full moon as he properly mated her?

“Darling?” (Your name) reached for his face and Rolfe was quick to put his face in them. A needy whine escaped his throat while he nuzzled her. She was his precious mate…

He snarled when he saw Helen enter. The woman scoffed at him in disgust.

“Ugh. James and I are tired of waiting. You have been here over a month! We want you gone beast. We’ll do it ourselves.”

“So you’re cancelling the contract?” He hummed while he continued to tenderly kiss (your name)‘a palms. “Are you sure? Did you read the fine print?”

“Yes. We don’t need your kind here, true love will prevail-“ Helen didn’t even have time to scream before a giant black wolf hybrid had dug it’s fangs into her throat and ripped it apart like wrapping paper. Blood splattered all over the floor and walls as Helen could only helplessly choke on her own blood.

“Yes… true love will prevail.” He muttered with a a satisfied hum. “My mate will be so happy.”

Meanwhile, James fled into the forest for dear life. That beast had gotten Helen! The two of them couldn’t believe the werewolf would turn on him.

James loudly leapt when he heard something large chase him through the underbrush on all fours. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel his sweat pool down his back in puddles. He needed to get to the church! A demon such as the bounty hunter couldn’t possibly enter there-

But James was knocked to the ground as an agonized shriek fell from his lips. The werewolf began to shake and mangle his leg like the bloodthirsty beast it was…

“Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do anything-“

Rolfe chuckled darkly. The black werewolf dropped his legs and glanced his beastly head at James. “Oh but she never did anything either… all she did was foolishly love you.”

“W-what do you mean? Are you talking about-“ James’s words were muffled by the paw like hand that covered his mouth. Rolfe shushed him.

“Shhh. You may have failed to pay me and cancel my contract but I had gotten something far more valuable from this transaction. Something most werewolves dream to find in their lifetimes… a fated mate!” Rolfe sighed dreamily. “You may have failed as a protector and provider, but I surely won’t! You have given me something more valuable than any coin could offer… yet you were neglectful to her. Such a shame really.”

“I… I’ll do anything! Just take her and let me live.”

“Ah but I can’t do that. Not when she still calls for you at night. No… you have to be eliminated. Destroyed, really. You can no longer exist on the same planet as her! You are in the way of my love!”

Loud screams of terror ringed out throughout the crisp night air and then it was silence.

Rolfe returned hours later scrubbed clean of blood while he crawled into the bed with his darling mate. He sighed in contentment when she cuddled him. Yes… it may take time to train her properly, but he was sure he could do it. He could make her love him. Just like he loved her.

[misstycloud]

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he��d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

-

[titania-sleeps]

Human Bloodbag Yandere x Vampire Reader

so i totally lied when i said i would wait until next month to post this. i offer you another good boy.

as a note, his characterization is a little different from my initial idea of him but i ended up liking this more. there's no explicit scene in here except a lil biting here and there but that won't be true for future Dion works >:3

• Dion was born and bred your bloodbag. From birth until the moment he dies, he will be your bloodbag.

• Dion never really had a choice. In the world that he knew, all humans were subservient to their vampiric masters. His parents were never truly his; they were the servants of Mordred the Terrifying. Like all the other human children in this world, his blood was crafted with a specific monster in mind.

• Dion's blood was sweet. Pure saccharine and hints of despair. He was mixed with you in mind, a candidate to replace one in the Council of the Elder Ancestors.

• Dion first met you when you were six and he was seven. He was struck with both an intense loathing and a gentle warmth. His master was standing in front of him, yet he couldn't bear to look at you in the eyes. You weren't impressed with him either, but at the very least, you didn't look at him with contempt.

• Dion spent the month as your personal servant under the instruction of your governess, Madam Lilith Hatheway. He learned to distinguish the sickly pleasantries of poison from your plain juice. He learned to fend off potential enemies and greet your benefactors. He learned the sharpness of knives and how humans could bleed ever so easily. He learned hatred, abhorrence, desperation, eagerness, joy, and elation all in the time he spent with you.

• Dion nearly fled the day he was meant to be bitten by you. Fear coursed through his veins, but Madam Lilith held him still and your eyes were daggers pinning him to the ground. You approached him with a simple glide of your steps, and your teeth were upon his exposed neck before a scream could escape his throat.

• Dion's vision grew blurry as the world spun around him. Or perhaps the world was spinning around you and he was caught up in it. You are the gravity of his world and he had to fall into you. You remained attached to his neck for an eternity, and he soon found himself losing consciousness.

• Dion woke up the next day, having grown to be eight years of human age, and you sitting next to his bedside. He was distinctly alive, yet also empty of what little fear and life he had clung onto so desperately in the last month.

• Dion listened to you closely as you explained with thinly veiled concern that he was now bonded to you. For as long as you were alive, he would be too. Under your curse, he would no longer experience the same emotions as a free human. Instead, his emotions would slowly be replaced by an undeniable sense of servitude towards you.

• Dion couldn't mourn the passing of what he had never possessed. He accepted his fate and swore his loyalty to you. You looked displeased.

• Dion remained by your side for the next hundred years as you matured. You treated him coldly but not unkindly. Perhaps it was because of your bitter nature that he never grew the attachment for you that he was promised. But he was fond of you, and it was not due to fate or the blood bond that the two of you shared that created this emotion in him.

• Dion never faulted you for binding him to you. The Elder Ancestors demanded you to bite him, and he knew you couldn't deny them. You were six, and they were more than six thousand.

• Dion knew too well the emotions that went through you every day. He could feel it from your gaze and from the blood in his veins. Guilt, displeasure, fear, and a sprinkle of affection. And as he gazed back into your eyes, he knew that you were just like him. A cog in the machinations of this limiting cage, engineered and designed to sustain itself for centuries upon centuries.

• Dion blamed it on his faulty sense of camaraderie, but he couldn't help himself from trying to get closer to you. Another decade passed before he saw your sincere smile for the first time. But it wasn't directed at him.

• Dion, for the first time, understood what others would call "blood boiling." His body was heated in fury as you exchanged casual pleasantries with another vampire gentleman your age. You seemed to be immediately infatuated with his dark brows and suave demeanor, but Dion didn't let it advance. For years upon years, he has known you to be a glacial creature, blue blood and ice running in your veins. Are you only now to tell him that you could experience the same joy and despair that he could?

• Dion intercepted this shameful display of... of whatever it was. You were of greater nobility than this meager creature, so there was no need for you to be conversing so vibrantly with him.

• Dion drove the man away and you brought Dion home in a fit of rage. You were still young and he was not much older than you, but even then, he felt you were being unreasonable. You claimed that he was jealous because of the blood bond you shared with him, but he knew that couldn't have been the case. It was not gentle jealousy that he held towards the man, but righteous anger.

• Dion succumbed himself to your punishment, which was rather weak for how furious you seemed. He was roughly pushed onto your bed, your fangs baring at him. The bite was filled with your sadness and loneliness, and he embraced your form joyously.

• Dion didn't push you away as you sucked his blood endlessly. The venom you injected into him filled him with adult pleasure*. He held his body still as his arms pulled you even closer to him. Throwing his head back, he laughed. It was a carefree sound, not at all suitable for a bird in a cage. His laugh startled you and you unmounted your fangs from his neck, staring at him incredulously.

• Dion urged you to continue sucking his blood. He would agree to give you him wholly if you would only suck his blood and only his. You were confused; he was already yours in name and in blood. What more of him could he give you? Then you peered into his eyes.

• Dion's eyes were the color of turbulent waves that swept and drowned those who were unwary. They held the deepest of blues and the darkest of greys. A treasure trove of desires and epiphanies opened to you as you dove deeper.

• Dion cocked his head to the side, baring his neck. Your puncture brought pink to the skin surrounding the wound, but no blood seeped out. A knowing smile danced on his lips.

• Dion was a monster you created. So you have to take responsibility for him.

* my vampire headcanon is that you don't get the aphrodisiac or whatever tf vampires inject into their victims until you come of age

-> masterlist

[sabertoothwalrus]

Finn's kids + friends

[tangerineginie]

Christmas follow up to my human, vampire, werewolf girlfriends post from a while ago, kindly commissioned by @indeedjaffa!

[lilaccmilk]

Before I hunt you down

(Grab your chin and kiss your lips)

wrote this based off a prompt I saw for Regulus Black and James Potter. content warning: jealousy/possessive themes, reader is mentioned as having a ‘cunt’, hickeys, overstimulation and the usual smut.

Werewolf bf gets jealous. Yeah.

Pushing you down taking his anger out on you. Claiming you. He thrusts at a brutal pace. Trying to calm down himself. Trying to assure himself that you belong to him. He’s panting, animalistic— letting out a guttural moan. Almost as if he’s choking and can’t breathe. He kisses you like a man starved. He leaves hickeys for everyone to see. He needs to stake a claim and that is exactly what he will do. The wet squelches your cunt is making is like music to his ears. He doesn’t let up until he has you screaming and crying on his cock. That is when he is finally satisfied. Too tired to clean up, you both fall asleep, him cuddling you. The act so innocent it almost makes you forget his previous claiming. Almost.

That person who made him jealous stays away from you.

But Vampire bf?

oh.

he gets possessive.

He stakes a claim in front of the other person. A hand on your waist, a territorial kiss and all that. He makes sure to look at the person while kissing you roughly. And when he has you on the bed, in the privacy of your house, oh, you better hope he is feeling merciful. Because he fucks you in a fast but controlled pace. He doesn’t leave hickeys on many open places, just one or two. He leaves more on your thighs. He knows what he’s doing. He knows you’re his and only his. He just wants to make sure you know who you belong to. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking from overstimulation. After he is done, he kisses you softly, runs a bath and cleans you up, changes the bedsheets and then cuddles you.

Oh and that person disappears ‘mysteriously’<3

[ozzgin]

I'm the anon who asked if your requests are open and i got busy assignments + presentations that i almost forgot about the request but now i remembered and it's based on my dream i saw that night..

How about a vampire who lost his relic (presumably a ring) and reader happens find it and tries it on, now the vampire is all panicking because guess what? That was a betrothal relic and it has binded the vampire's soul with the one of reader. They can't pull it out/take it of.. oh well, now they are stuck and obviously the vampire hates the idea of being stuck with a pesky human but hey they are kinda stupid..? How tf they tripped on thin air? Or how they are still alive even after being food poisoned 5 times a month? Vampire is now babysitter for his human *sighs * what has he gotten himself in..

(Please add yandere elements later on, my brain stoopid but i want a hot Victorian era vampire being obsessed with me ^^ muah!)

(I'm sorry this is so lengthy TT)

Yandere! Vampire x Reader

Featuring a ridiculously lucky Reader who constantly manages to escape a Vampire's assassination attempts. Did someone order a supernatural edition of enemies to lovers?

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, romcom

[Monster masterlist] [Original works masterlist]

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" your friends gasp in unison, eyes fixated on the fallen ceramic pot that scarcely missed you, now laying shattered at your feet. You laugh reassuringly and wave your hand in dismissal. "It's the fifth time it happens today. Maybe there's a storm coming?"

From within the shadows, menacing eyes glowing red follow your movements. "Damn it!" The mysterious man curses under his breath. He stares enviously at the bulky ring on your finger. The ring bearing his Family signet, where part of his very soul resides. It has stayed with him for centuries, and somehow, to his utmost shame, he lost it. By the time he rushed back to retrieve it, you were carelessly sliding it down your finger. He wanted to strangle the life out of you right then and there, but he felt it: the immediate surge of contractual power, dominating his will and holding him back from breaking your bones. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You nodded in agreement and tried to remove it, but the metal band tightened around your skin, painfully constricting your digit. It was stuck. It was too late.

Now he has to rely on cheap trickeries like this one. Sure, he may not be able to directly plunge his fangs into your neck, but the bonding curse does not shield you from "accidents", you see. It would be a real shame if that flower pot was to land straight into your head, ending you instantly and thus breaking the connection with him. Except you simply refuse to die. A mystery, a paradox, one that enrages him to no end. It's almost as if the ring is bringing you fortune at the cost of his misery.

"Have you had any luck removing that ugly thing?" the person standing next to you mentions. The vampire lord grits his teeth at the blasphemous words. This is what's become of him: a deceitful buffoon, having to sit and listen to his inheritance being mocked relentlessly. He holds back the urge of shouting that thousands have bled to death in order to forge that magnificence. "Not at all", you respond idly. "I tried taking it to a jeweler, and she said she could try to cut it, but she ended up having a heart attack right in the middle of it. She didn't even look that old, maybe it runs in her family?"

Unbelievable. The thought of reclaiming his relic haunts every second of his day, to the point he's become your shadow. Stalking your every move, your every breath, observing his prey and waiting for an opportunity to strike. He can already picture that pathetic face of yours, twisting in pain, begging for-...huh. Well, look at that, you're reading one of his favorite books. Perhaps you do have a little taste, after all. It won't save you from your terrible fate, but he might skip the prolonged torture.

There's plenty of quotes out there about knowing your enemy in order to guarantee your victory, though one might wonder where the limit of such knowledge resides. Or what counts as useful to begin with. The vampire lord is presently wondering about this very aspect, as he mouths your coffee order from a distance. Less sugar, huh? You did mention losing your sweet tooth. He shakes his head indignantly. Absolutely not! The throb of his heart is fueled by raw hatred and nothing else. One of days he will savour your demise.

Your ridiculous luck might just end today. You've taken a shortcut on your way back home, and didn't expect a shady, burly man to block your exit. A perverted grin stains his face as he approaches you, twiddling with his pocket knife. "Alone at this hour?" You frown and try to find a way out, but the man suddenly begins to heave and convulse before your eyes, grasping at his chest as the skin shrivels and dries. He collapses at your feet, body wilted as if it's been emptied of its vitality. The Vampire Lord clicks his tongue.

To think he'd rush to rescue his sworn enemy, a pitiful mortal like you. He didn't even get the chance to consider the aftermath. You stare at the stranger, confused but observant. Pale skin, crimson eyes, unnaturally sharp canines...and the fact he just drained a living being into a bloodless corpse: everything hints to one possibility. "Are you by any chance a vampire?" you find yourself mumbling. "You must've graduated from Harvard with those deduction skills", he responds sarcastically.

Everything else unfolds in a haze. Wasn't he planning to kill you and retrieve his ring? When the hell did he offer to walk you home to avoid more creeps? Why is he twirling his hair sheepishly whenever you praise his demonic powers? Oh, but it gets worse: why did he suddenly feel the urge to kiss you before returning to his cursed lair? Why did he accept your invitation to spend the night at your place instead? One moment ago, he was doing his best to curse you off this Earth. Now he's tugging stray strands of hair away from your blushing, whining face, asking you if it hurts. Damned human.

"How did you know I like this? Have you been stalking me?" you joke, nudging your undead boyfriend and setting the gift aside. "More or less", he confesses with a yawn. He recalls all that time spent dutifully spying on your oblivious self. "You know, a human like you shouldn't be able to dodge death like that." He turns to you and scans your features. Then, abruptly embarrassed, he ruffles your hair to block you from noticing his blush. "I suppose my failure was the better outcome. It's not too bad, having you around."

[wombywoo]

out on the town 🌃

[monstersholygrail]

God, the urge to put monsters in weird and freaky (completely normal) situations is clawing at my skin and begging to be unleashed. I will not be restrained any longer!

I need Vampire cowboys at the rodeo where reader is an animal hybrid the cowboys ride.

I need a Minotaur CEO where he fucks reader, his secretary, in every damn room of the place.

I need Orc construction workers who are taking a little too long on the job for one reason or another and reader has to talk to them.

I need Tentacle monster lifeguard who takes his job very seriously but can’t help but want reader to drown just so he can stick his tentacles down their throat.

I need Gargoyle bartender who’s the ‘life’ of the party during the night shifts and reader gets a little too drunk so he helps them back to their apartment but the sun rises just as they fall on their bed and decide to tease the bartender a bit.

I need Were-rabbit gym trainer who focuses on stamina in his workout classes and he’s surprised to find that reader can actually keep up while the others falter. He wonders about giving her a real workout.

I need Demon priest who’s trying to take back his fall from grace but when reader joins the church he finds his restraint begins the falter the longer he interacts with reader.

Send in asks about any of these or better yet send in asks about your own! Put monsters into regular everyday jobs!! Delve into the pool of delusions.

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅺ▬ ⁽ 𝓋𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒⁾ ¹

part two

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₅˖₈ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : slightly edited, talk of past sexual assault ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : i had to split this into two parts! it’s giving very much manhwa vibes!

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : your elder half-sister is to be married to the mysterious and supposed tyrannical duke kallisto de ardelean, on word of the emperor. with your sister no longer having her chastity and being scared to lose his daughter, your father, marquis bastian, and your elder half-brother, tommen devise a plan to send you in her stead.

꒰m!vampire₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

 the sound of cutlery grating against one another makes anxiety coil taut within your belly, the emotion mischievously swimming its way upwards to form a burning mordant taste within the base of your throat; bile threatening to ascend and expel from your mouth. your nerves are strung tight like a bow, bending, pulling, hurting- waiting to be disentangled from its stretch; but to no avail. the persistent, uneasy ache pulsing through your veins causes your head to throb and pound uncomfortably - the onset of a migraine looming.

    the clinking of silverware becomes a symphony of discomfort, each scrape, and clatter adding to the cacophony that fills the room. it becomes increasingly difficult to focus on anything else, as the unease consumes your thoughts and senses. the atmosphere feels suffocating, as if the tension in the air is tangible.

  you find yourself longing for a moment of respite, a break from the relentless discomfort. but it eludes you, leaving you trapped in this sea of unease. the storm within you rages on, its intensity growing with each passing second.

      'when will this be over?' you muse sourly, stumbling to hold in a huff of frustration and discomfort; the stinging, scalding gazes of your siblings and attendants are alight with contempt and taunting humor- directed at you. the sensation sends a chill skittering down your backbone, a chill so frigid that goosebumps begin to blanket your skin like a fresh layer of december frost; intricate and icy.

  as you sit there, the weight of their judgment bears down on you, pressing against your chest and making it difficult to breathe. the room seemed to close around you, the walls closing in like a vise, trapping you in a suffocating bubble of scrutiny. the air is heavy with tension, each second ticking by like an eternity, as if time itself had slowed down to magnify your discomfort.

    and you find that removing your eyes from the bowl of lukewarm soup in front of you to meet their disdainful faces, was nigh impossible. unthinkable. so instead you remain fixated on the porcelain dish, undisturbed by the tiny grains of sand scattered at the bottom, swirling lazily in the stew.

 'this again?' you ponder silently, before being startled by the tinkling laughter that fills the room.

     for a fleeting moment, your gaze flickers upward to scan the dining hall at the soft, girlish snickering; finding the venomous eyes of your elder sister staring right back at you. your glossy eyes quickly find solace in the sandy, savory depths of the bowl of soup below you once more. your fingers weaving jointly underneath the table, nails turning pale as the vice grip of your extremities coil, trying to strangle one another. you felt like a rat trapped within a burning bucket with nowhere to go, fated to die-but how badly you wanted to gnaw your way out to freedom.

 "oh my, dear sister, you've hardly touched your food."

  your back molars clench against the tender flesh of your cheek at the attention, your body cowering back into the delicate velvet chair underneath you, praying to be devoured whole. with trembling hands, you nervously rub your dewy palms against the faded blue fabric of your dress, causing it to darken with the touch of moisture. it was as if your very nerves had been set ablaze as you could now feel the disconcerting stare of your father branding the side of your cheek.

your soft but prevalent ebbeton accent cuts through the tense atmosphere like a sharpened blade, the gazes of the room bleeding into your skin.

    "i find myself lacking an appetite this evening," you emit softly, offering a forced smile to your elder sister in an attempt to pacify her. you’re not surprised when aerith’s thin upper lip curls into a snarl, downturned eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing. anything that you did; that defied her orders, usually triggered aerith to taunt and beat you. there was no winning when it came to the girl, you had figured that out when you were just a child.

     not expecting your reply, aerith’s narrow upper lip curls into a vexed snarl, downturned eyes tightening and eyebrows drawing near to each other. 'who the hell does she think she is?' a forced, cruel smile encases aerith’s mouth, golden spirals of silken hair dancing over her shoulders as she slants her head in an opposing manner. the blonde is only aggravated further at your curt, almost blank expression. "it'd be a waste for you to not at least take a bite, don't you think?"

  she leaned in closer, her eyes boring into yours, daring you to defy her. the room seemed to grow colder, the atmosphere heavy with tension. aerith knew that she had the upper hand, that she had the ability to make your already hellish life, worse. and she reveled in it. the power she possessed, the control she exerted over others, was intoxicating. she was not one to be underestimated, and she made sure you knew it.

    the intense thrumming of your fearful heart reverberates throughout your body, anxiety substituting the boiling blood surging through your veins. you swallow the orb of tension that's wedged its way into your throat and dig your almond-shaped nails into your thighs, a flimsy smile painted onto your lips. "i simply do not feel hungry tonight, sister," you reply calmly, though your heart pounds in your ears. "surely that is not a crime."

    your sister's eyes narrow, her fury evident in the furrowed lines on her forehead. you can almost taste the outrage, mingling with the metallic tang of fear on your tongue.

"(y/n)."

    you flinch back into your seat at the boisterous sound of your father's voice, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow, shakily you pick up the rickety spoon, a far cry from the elegant silverware adorning the table. with trembling hands, you cautiously dip the spoon into the soup, the loose pieces of sand giggling at your misery. slowly the spoon ascends to your lips- before three sharp knocks echo throughout the dining hall. every malicious, joyously cruel gaze, flits to the door. your father, never one to be unnerved, dabs at his lips with his napkin and clears his throat. "enter."

    the heavy oak doors are gradually pulled open by two knights who stand guard at opposing ends. the assailant quickly waltzes into the room, his face, pale and drawn, betrays the weight of his duty. beads of sweat trickle down his forehead, glistening like tiny diamonds in the candlelight. his disheveled attire, once pristine and regal, now hangs loosely on his frame, evidence of the tumultuous journey he has endured to reach this moment. settled upon his spindly hand is a slender silver tray, which carries a letter.

“-and what is the cause for you interrupting the household dinner, boy? "

  the man choked back a shuddering breath and with a graceful yet urgent stride, he approaches the grand mahogany table at the center of the room, halting just in front of your father, lowering into a ninety-degree bow and thrusting the salver forward.

     "a letter from the imperial palace..." the boy's tentative voice trails off for a moment, hesitant to declare the rest of the announcement. your father observed the scene with a stoic expression, his piercing gaze fixed upon the man before him, before he rolls his eyes, picking up his utensils once more. "well? out with it then.”

“- it's closed with the emperor's seal, my lord.”

    all respire within the room seemed to come to a standstill, the birds did not dare to chirp and the wind was not brave enough to howl. the silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of your father's labored breaths. as the seconds ticked by, the room seems to hold its breath, waiting for marquis bastian to break the silence. finally, your father gently places his utensils aside and swiftly grasps the letter, his fingers trembling with a mixture of anticipation and unease. clearly, some things could unnerve marquis bastian, you thought, as you surreptitiously returned the spoon to its rightful place upon the table.

     popping the seal, your father glides the letter from the envelope delicately, unfurling the piece of paper to allow his eyes to glaze over the contents. yet, with each passing second his eyelids draw back to showcase the whites of his eyes, his fingers digging into the paper with a mix of shock, disbelief, or perhaps even anger. you can't quite discern his emotions. your father, marquis bastian, was a man known for his unwavering composure and unshakeable resolve. his presence alone commanded respect and admiration, and it was a rare sight indeed to witness him unsettled.

   his usually stoic face contorted with a myriad of emotions, his brows furrowing and his lips trembling ever so slightly. the room seemed to grow colder, as if the air itself was affected by his sudden unease. you watched in silence, your heart pounding in your chest, as your father's grip on the letter tightened, his knuckles turning white. the seconds stretched into minutes, and still, your father remained frozen in his chair, his eyes fixed on the damning words before him. 

   tommen, your eldest brother, swallows thickly at father's silence, the hairs on the back of his neck at attention and his leg bouncing nervously underneath the table. "father, what ails you?" marquis bastian was distraught, so much so in fact, that he ran a wrinkling hand down his face, head falling into his open palm. the patriarch of the house clears his throat and sets the paper back onto the tray.

"a-aerith. your engagement has been decided by the emperor."

    tommen's heart sinks at his father's words. your elder sister, forever the oblivious blonde; and incapable of reading the room, beams happily and clasps her hands together, head tilting to the side with a whimsical, distant gaze in her eyes. "oh! who is it, daddy? a duke? a marquis?—" the girl trails off with a gasp and places a soft, small hand over her mouth, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. "could it be the prince?! oh, daddy, say something! who is it?!"

tommen's eyes follow his father's every movement, his own anxiety growing with each passing second. he watches as his father clears his throat, a sign of his struggle to find the right words. your father, still in dismay, doesn't even attempt to soothe aerith as he breaks the news to her, his gaze empty, like a vast, swarthy sea of water without end.

"duke kallisto de ardelean."

 you watch in confusion as her smile slowly fades, her pretty, sparkling jade eyes seem to dull, the vibrant hue that once adorned her rosy cheeks now fades away, leaving behind a pallid complexion that betrays the absence of her usual vivacity.

   the blonde's daze is shattered in an instant as she forcefully pushes herself away from the table, her hands crashing down on the sturdy oak surface, her nails leaving marks. "no! i won't do it, you cannot make me!" your father's lips are set into a thin line and despite aerith looking to him for answers, for hope that only his words can bring, his expression is unreadable; and for a moment, something dark and enraged unfurls within the blonde's stomach, threatening to consume her.

"daddy? say something!"

tommen, always the mediator, attempts to smooth over the situation. "aerith, sit, let father think for a moment— hm?" your eldest brother can't help but add an encouraging whirr at the end of his demand after seeing his sister's frightened gaze; a sight that tugs at his heart agonizingly. aerith reluctantly tumbles into her chair, reddened cheeks cushioned by clammy palms; her nails digging into her scalp worriedly.  "brother, do something."

tommen's jaw ticked in annoyance- frustration. there was no way aerith would survive at duke ardelean's home, particularly because of her licentious behavior and absence of subordination. with aerith's lack of chastity, she was nothing but used, damaged goods— not even a puppet to be utilized. ( she would've been better off marrying a count, someone she could manipulate and break faith with. ) sending her off to kallisto would do nothing but insult the ardelean household and bring disgrace to their family for generations to come. 

    tommen's love for his sister was undeniable, and he couldn't bear to see her endure humiliation or worse. he refused to stand idly by and witness the downfall of his family, the destruction of everything they had worked so hard to build.

   slight motion from his peripheral causes tommen's head to turn slightly in its direction, catching sight of your dingy garments and absence of etiquette. ‘ah, the bastard.' he thought to himself. watching as your back straightens immediately when his viridian-colored gaze flits to your slouched figure. there is a bottomless sea of revulsion whirling like a hurricane within its depths and you grip your right arm tightly, nails digging into your flesh; scarring it with crescent moons, a desperate attempt to maintain composure, to keep yourself afloat in the face of his disdain.

    but despite your best efforts- you seemed to drown. the contempt in tommen's eyes remained unwavering. his judgment was etched into his features, a constant reminder of the vast chasm that separated you. in that moment, you were acutely aware of your place in his world, forever relegated to the outskirts, forever branded as the outsider.

"father, if I may?"

   marquis bastian looks toward his son, lips thinned and face weary. he was without a doubt, lost on what to do the thought of losing his little girl to such a man, made his stomach churn and ache.

tommen drags his gaze away from you and locks eyes with marquis bastian; he's tentative, uncertain if the solution that he's come to would assuage his father. but, he takes a deep breath and explains.

   "aerith has been out of high society for years now, after the incident with count aslan's daughter, and there were only a few witnesses at the happening.” tommen begins gradually, making sure that his father is mindful of every little detail. "truly-she's not even talked about within social circles anymore."

   your father grunts in agreement, shooting a scalding gaze at his immature (but loveable) daughter at the reminder of the mishap. the blonde's pout deepens and she crosses her arms over her chest in childish defiance.

   “duke kallisto has never gone to any social gatherings before and he's been away at the northern border for about the same period, perhaps even longer, with his eldest son joining him only a couple of months ago. he would have no idea who aerith is." marquis bastian's eyebrows furrow deeply, producing wrinkles in-between his thick, graying brows.

    tommen watches as the cogs turns in his father's head. “'it's official only on paper and since duke kallisto has never come to any social setting and no one knows what he looks like, i doubt there will be a public wedding, especially since he's currently at the northern border leading the knights."

marquis bastian's eyes widen and he finds his son's viridian gaze. “are you saying—” tommen nods quickly, leaning back in his seat. “if we send the bastard, they'd be none the wiser."

all eyes narrow on you, calculating and cold, it raises goosebumps on your skin, hinders your breath, and makes you break out in a cold sweat. 

    a small voice inside you yearned to protest, to expose the sheer madness of their 'scheme', warning that it would only lead to the gruesome demise of the entire family for treason. but, what right did you have to speak? you were nothing but a bastard, a child conceived out of unwilling sex, brought into this world by a maid who was promptly cast aside the moment you took your first breath.

   you were raised in the shadows, hidden away from the prying eyes of society, forced to serve the family that had abandoned you. your existence was a constant reminder of their shame, a living testament to their sins. and yet, despite the cruelty and neglect you endured, a flicker of defiance burned within you. but fear held you back. fear of retribution, of being cast out into the cold, unforgiving world. fear of the unknown, of what lay beyond the walls of the only home you had ever known.

you were a mere puppet, a marionette manipulated by the hands of those who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end. your existence was reduced to a tool, easily discarded when it no longer served its purpose. it was a fitting fate, since commoner blood surged through your veins. you were forever destined to be overlooked and discarded.

     lips thinning you watch as your fathers face flushes with the color he lost while reading the letter, no longer tense as he nods his head in agreement with tommen. he lets out a deep hum before locking eyes with his son. “that might just work.” marquis bastian absently strokes his beard before giving a decisive nod. “we’ll have to start the process quickly. with how she is now…” he trails off prompting you to hastily blink back the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. 

 “hajorld, send a letter to madame kilsby.” 

  all eyes fix upon aerith as she emits a disbelieving whimper. “daddy! that’s not fair, you promised that madame kilsby would teach me! you swore,”  her voice, sharp and grating, causes marquis bastian’s face to pinch into one of anger. “had you not spread your legs like some common whore, aerith, i would not be forced to take this action."

  aerith's heart sank at her father's accusing words. she had been looking forward to learning from madame kilsby for months, only to have her hopes dashed in an instant. the disappointment was palpable in the air as she struggled to hold back tears, her rose-tinted lips pressing together as she slumps back in her seat. your father sighs deeply and picks back up his cutlery. “may the gods have mercy on us."

"chin up!"

    you wince softly at the abrupt pain that blooms bitterly across your calf, the skin puckering and swollen from the harsh, periodic whipping of madame kilsby. stiffly your chin lifts upwards. the heavy books that make a home on the top of your head for the time being, quiver- as if they are walking bare within the frigid december air; waiting to topple. 

     her aging hand presses deftly into your lower back, fixing your posture once more with a soft hum, assessing, watching. she observes as you prance forward, wobbly within your heels but nonetheless ideal, given the time frame in which your lessons had begun.

"to me."

   as gracefully as you can, you turn to face madame kilsby in all her beautiful glory and for the second time this lesson, your breath catches briefly in your throat. you gaze at her shamelessly, taking in her red tresses, which like a dancing flame, curl atop her head; her green eyes, the color of luscious green forests, are deep, enchanting, and dangerous.

    the smell of her perfume is sweet (but not too much so) and floral, with just a whiff of spice she is a woman to behold, and you do so often. with a barely-there breath, you walk back towards her, feet aching within the shoes given to you. if your form is off, it doesn't show on her face. you come to a stop in front of madame kilsby and she locks gazes with you, the corners of her mouth curl up, she's pleased— it makes her all the more inviting.

"good y/n, i'm impressed."

  an apprehensive smile caresses your lips, brightening your typical apathetic beauty, and madame kilsby, finds you charming even more so. the older woman clears her throat softly and gently removes the hefty books from the top of your head, setting them onto the table next to her with a thump.etiquette and most other teachings usually are taught to children at a young age; that way it evolves almost into a second nature for them. since you were born out of wedlock and worst of all to a maid, a woman of no noble origin- you had been cast aside, as there was no need for a bastard to learn anything.

     madame kilsby had been reluctant to teach you, the first couple of days you could perceive her ridicule, her apprehension. yet, just as quickly as it came, it went, the hostility, the backhanded compliments, every scornful thing she had done while teaching you the first three days, seemed irrelevant. 

  you, she concluded, are her most promising student. you heed her words, obey, and watch diligently. you emulate, take, and evolve her teachings to fit your technique. your unwavering, confident blank gaze and features add to the feminine, mysterious ambiance that seems to encompass you. seeing you take shape had been breathtaking for madame kilsby. 

     she had never seen such rapid progress in a student before, especially one who had been deemed unworthy of her teachings. your determination and quick wit impressed her, and she found herself looking forward to each lesson with you.

   "there is nothing left for me to teach you now. as you've soaked up every bit of knowledge that i could provide. and beautifully so." the curvature of your lips pull downward, and madame kilsby watches as your features return back to their typical apathetic look.

'i have two days left before being shipped off to duke ardelean's home.’ you think sourly,briefly escaping your anxious musings to offer a distracted smile towards madame kilsby. "thank you, truly."

     the woman inclines her head and gently rests a hand upon your cheek. "let me know if there's anything i can do for you, child, if it's within my power to do so, it will be done."

   'would it be wrong to ask her to stab me with a knife? probably.' and just like that, in two days, you would be shipped off to your death.

two days later

  the ride to the ardelean estate is hell on wheels, you believe. your body is sore from your unduly tense posture, and your bum aches continually at every hobble and wobble of the carriage, it doesn't help that the corset that you had been forced into (and not delicately either) makes it all the harder to draw breath. 

  the carriage had been riding all day to get to the estate on time, a staggering eleven-hour ride- where you most definitely couldn't get any rest even if you had tried. it feels like an eternity before the carriage pulls to a stop. 

"my lady, we're here." 

    your nerves are scorched, set ablaze with fear and unease and it engulfs your body in a flame so searing that you find yourself airing your face. the door opens slowly and you swallow down the squeal of dread that tries to claw its way out of your throat, you place your hands comfortably on your lap, back straightening despite the sting of pain it brings and face blanking.

    a large palm facing upwards comes into your peripheral and you place your own gloved hand into it, stepping out of the carriage door, on a stepping stool, and finally onto the gravel. your eyes adjust to the brightness of outside before the estate comes into focus, and it's enormous, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of it. the structure is beautiful in its own haunted way.

   "welcome to the ardelean estate, lady fureio." 

    the monotonous chorus of voices surprises you, your body jolting softly, it leaves your heart to thump laboriously in your chest; eyes finally narrowing in on the attendants of the estate, the head maid and butler stand front and center, eyes cordial and seemingly all-knowing. 

   your smile is small, reluctant— yet warm nonetheless, you tip your head downwards in greeting, swallowing thickly, palms beginning to moisten and skin warming at your nervousness. "thank you." 

  a smile brightens the head maids face, her plump but sagging cheeks flushing a soft, lovely hue of red. "my name is esmerelda, i will escort you inside my lady, to get you settled in." she watches with rapt attention as you exhale shakily, nodding, "that would be great esmerelda, thank you."

   her countenance swiftly adopts a stern expression as she directs her attention to the two knights positioned behind her. if they have a problem with carrying your luggage, it remains imperceptible upon their visage. without hesitation, they proceed to retrieve your possessions from the rear of the carriage and carefully carry them into the grand estate ahead, their armor clanking softly with each step.

   you don't own many thing, only a few dresses (which weren't much to look at) a singular pair of worn shoes, and a couple of hairpieces that were fraying at their ends. while marquis bastian had paid for your etiquette lessons and other teachings— he was adamant about not spending much else after that. which was quite foolish of him now that you thought back to it.

    the woman watches them intently, her eyes sharp. as the knights disappear into the castle, the woman turns back to you with a slight nod of approval. "they will ensure your belongings are safely stored in your chambers," she says, her voice firm but not unkind. 

   you offer a gentle smile and a slight nod, gracefully aligning yourself with her stride as she beckons you to accompany her into the estate. she trails in front of you slightly, as you two walk past the maids stationed outside for your welcoming. 

 "where is the little lord?"

 "i couldn't find him this morning."

 "young master calix skipped sword training as well."

 esmerelda's stern gaze quickly has them hushed, their chins tucking against their chests pitifully, your lips purse softly as you comb through your head for lost details on the ardelean household, following slowly behind esmerelda.

    kallisto de ardelean is a father to three boys, the eldest son: azur, who recently turned seventeen, joined kallisto a couple of months back at the frontier to help with the north's demon subjugation. he, along with kallisto, wouldn't be home for a while.

   atreyu, kallisto's fifteen-year-old middle child is learning at the academy and finishing up his second year. and because winter is coming, atreyu's company would be expected in a couple of weeks from now.

    you pause momentarily in your thoughts. not much is known about kallosto's last son, as he is too young to participate in any social gatherings, and too young for the academy, not even his name is known, well, you supposed now that you knew it. 

calix de ardelean.

 "it's been a long ride has it not? shall i have a bath drawn for you?"

    you were exhausted, eyes laden, and breath slightly shallow from the ill-fitting corset that adorned your figure. you wanted to sleep, needed it even; yet the prospect of a warm bath followed by donning a comfortable nightgown seemed even more appealing.

   “that’d be perfect esmerelda, thank you.” you can hear the smile in her voice as she responds back to you. “of course, my lady.” 

     the two of you make your way through a corridor after a long trek up a flight of stairs, it’s adorned with paintings. they're eerie yet exquisite; gloomy and desolate. the paintings seem to come alive as you walk past them, their eyes following your every move. the brushstrokes are so vivid and lifelike that you can almost feel the emotions emanating from the canvas. it's as if the artists poured their souls into each piece, leaving a lingering presence that sends shivers down your spine. the colors are so vibrant and the details so intricate that it's hard to believe they were created by mere human hands. 

   however, one catches your gaze, steals your breath away even—  as if time stands still as you lock eyes with the portrait.

“who is he?” 

   your mouth opens before you can dissuade yourself and esmerelda turns to face you, watching as you shamelessly gaze deeply at the painting, lips parted and almost breathless. you're not sure how the painter is able to capture the aura that surrounds the man perfectly— but they do and it's monarchial... terrifying. 

    his tresses are long and ebony; framing his face delicately, his lips are ruby in color- inviting; and his skin is pale as porcelain. the man's eyes are the color of freshly spilled blood, they gleam with an all-knowingness that warms your skin and strips you bare. you find it almost impossible to drag your gaze away from the painting, he's quite literally the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

  "that is duke kallisto, my lady." 

   you whip around to face her, eyebrows furrowing and heart thumping desperately within your chest, nearly pounding out of your ribcage, your ebbeton accent thickens as you speak, a look of clear disbelief in your eyes. "truly?" when she nods in confirmation you step forward and touch the portraits golden frame, trailing your fingers lower to trace over the cursive letters of duke kallisto's name. realizing how peculiar you must look, you quickly pull your hand to your chest; face warming in embarrassment.

 “shall we get going?”

ardelean estate

        the next day

calix de ardelean was a curious child. 

 his transgressions usually got him into trouble with his father more times than headmaid esmerelda had been able to count on both hands— though, that never truthfully seemed to stop calix, not for long anyway, especially since kallisto is reminded often of his late wife whenever he sees that playful glint within calix's ruby-red eyes, and folds almost immediately.     

     sometimes calix's childlike antics were simply disregarded by kallisto because the boy was just a child. a child who had never gotten to meet his mother, a child who lacked the maternal love that his elder siblings grew up with. kallisto could not be irate with his baby boy, no matter what he did.

   so it’s not surprising that calix is currently skipping sword practice. not that he despised it in any way, truly it was his favorite thing as it helped past time as he waited for his father to come back from the northern borders. 

  he hadn't been told about the marriage, only deduced it after catching wind of the rumors from the maids. he was curious, perhaps even a bit scared, he didn't like change. he would chase her out no matter what, before his father could come home. 

  now, to search for the woman who infiltrated his h- 

"ahem, young master calix- enough of these childish games."

     the boy jumps, startled by sir. fjord's deep timbre. without a word, calix quickly takes off down the hallway with a bellowing, tinkering laugh. his cheeks are flushed the cutest shade of red and his obsidian hair is ruffled at the top of his head. 

     glancing over his shoulder to look for the man, calix rounds a corner and immediately bumps into a soft, thick fabric, that sends him crashing butt-first to the carpeted flooring, hands burning. the boy whines softly and pouts, gazing up and up until he locks eyes with a woman. 

pretty. 

   with a worried frown, the woman lowers down in front of him, she smells of honey sickle and sugared lavender and it has warmth unfurling languidly within his tummy, turning him to mush underneath her soft, amused gaze.      

     "you must be calix." he nods slowly, unable to look away from her observant- filled eyes, she smiles brightly, it's welcoming and genuine. "my name is aerith fureio." 

    her fuller lips pull downward as she notices the redness that envelopes calix's hand, she reaches forward to grasp his wrist softly, angling it so that his palm faces upwards to her gaze, a nervous gasp expels from calix's lips, he's surprised to feel that ‘aerith's’ hands are slightly calloused. though from azur's teachings, a woman of noble birth never does domestic work, that's what maids are for. 

    it was difficult for women to comprehend how to wield a sword and so they weren't taught to do so. instead, they lived a life where they needn't lift a pinky. 

  so why were such warm and delicate hands, bruised as if she'd been working? 

    "you'll need some ointment for your palms." aerith glances over her shoulder to a maid who stands nearby with widened eyes. "lily, could you please?" 

    calix glances at the maid whom he hadn't noticed, too caught up in the woman in front of him. he glared at her viciously, watching as she scampered away with a small squeal. "yes, my lady!" 

   calix quickly snatches his hand from the woman and clutches it to his chest, round eyes scowling at her. 'aerith' chuckles soft and low, resting her elbow against her thigh and laying her cheek on her palm— gazing at the boy. he shuffles backwards away from her.

     "you're that lady that moved in yesterday, huh?" his gaze is sharp and unwelcoming but the woman in front of him seems to brighten at the sound of his sweet voice. she inclines her head in affirmation, it's surprisingly elegant in calix's eyes. "i am."

   it's a simple answer, not one he's expecting but it makes his heart beat fiercely. 

  the boy finds that the ire he once held for this unknown woman slowly starts to fade away, no matter how hard he wills it to remain. her eyes are like pools of warmth that beckon him to swim within them and her smile is small, but genuine- and calix swears that it's the first one that he's seen outside of his family.

    he opens his mouth to say something but there is nothing. 'aerith', seeing him struggle, cocks her head to the right and lets out a soft hum. 

  “say, i've had a hard time figuring out these halls, i just keep getting lost no matter what i do." she trails off in faux hesitancy and watches as his face lights up slowly but surely. the boy clears his throat and toots his nose up in a haughty manner, a smug smirk hugging his lips, calix finds that though her accent is unfamiliar and slightly heavy, it's not unpleasant to hear.

    "i suppose i'll give you a tour, no need to beg." calix scrambles to his feet, fixing his clothing. “i'll visit you early tomorrow morning, be ready!" before she can say anything else, the boy is off, running through the halls once more. 

"my lady? where has the little lord gone?" 

  smiling, you stand from your crouched position and turn to face your personal maid. "it seems he's run off. have the balm sent to his quarters when you have the chance."    

     lily nods and follows dutifully after you. "shall i show you around tomorrow then my lady?" you place a hand over your mouth to stifle your small laughter. "worry not lily, it seems i've reserved a guide." 

[bunnis-monsters]

Vampire who wants to breed reader, though vampires cannot have children. The breeding kink still stuck strong 😳

NSFW

pt2

He can’t stand it, the way your pussy squeezes around him so tight, as if you’re trying to milk him dry. You whine and cry out for him to fill you up, to give you a baby…

But he can’t.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try, though. The thought of breeding you, of filling your womb with his cum, and creating a new life with his beloved gets his cock twitching inside of you.

Just the thought of giving you a creampie is enough for his cock to be straining against his shorts.

You just look so cute underneath him, a little woozy after he’s fed on you, your cheeks warm and eyes hazy. Little whimpers leave your plump lips as you beg for him to make you a mommy.

“I will, my love. Don’t you worry, this one will take.”

He can’t help but fuck into you, the tip of his cock pressing against the special spot that has you mewling and digging your nails into his back.

Images of your belly becoming heavy and swollen with his child fill his mind, and he can almost picture how much your breasts will grow and fill with milk. He’s cumming in no time, and it will be far from the last load you take that night.

He’s not giving up on breeding you. You’re his mate, it’s his job to impregnate and protect you and his young. It just might… take a while.

But you never complain when he’s fucking you like that…

[killjo-q]

Random OC drawings because brain cannot focus today but I wanted to draw something