#barn.wip

[thefavouritelamb]

because the world will go to ruins for you, because your yan!casino owneroyfriend will never lose to anyone but you.

he's strict, he's ruthless. you can't think of another man in the world that would devour the flesh of those who beat him in a game of texas poker. you don't think anyone would want to eat flesh and skin at all. still, when the tides go against him when someone bets with real money—he bets reputation, not wealth—he will not stop until he gets his revenge.

maybe because he's powerful, maybe because he's famous, maybe because he's charming, he gets away with it all the time. you're left to watch from the sidelines of his half empty table the man who will soon regretting betting grands of money to get something from him.

dominque is his name. it's dominque because he lived in a gothic castle with a gothic upbringing; one built of fables of vampires and such. hausse is his last name because it's gods's greatest joke. he's lived in a house of empty hallways and ringing cries of his mother. he's also become the house, a mirror of the greedy and the brave who lose against him.

and you, you are his one exception. you sit at his table betting reputation. you've lost as many times as you won. dominique plays his hand loose with you, always eager to strike a conversation as you consider your next move in jackblack. your hand misses only a four and you're unsure how lucky you will be. still, he talks to you about your day and wonders if you will ever date anyone.

"as if," you laugh as you get a three. "i'm pretty satisfied alone right now. i have you for company though, no?"

you are the only exception. when you come in betting for money, he knows that you're desperate. the world has caught up to you and there's nothing else to offer you but his love. he folds, he bets it all, and you walk away from the house of greed with enough money to deal with the debt placed upon you.

yet, that's not the end, is it? when you return home, it's not anxiety that greets you. it's not burly men with agenda and a license to kill. no, it's not that at all. you're surprised to see the man who you owe money to sit at the head of table, his head served on a plate and mouth drooling paper bills. you want to fucking vomit. you feel sick. his empty eye sockets are fuelled by cents and pennies. an awful feeling of dread creeps up to you

then you see on his neck, a large bite that looks animal-like. suddenly, you know what happened.

when the world is full of greed, when millionaires are fat from raw steak and crawling in their latest automobiles, you're going to stand tall. dominque creeps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your startled frame. you will never not be the exception, you fear. death will follow you because nothing else can. he puts your body to rest in a sheet of gold and kisses your body until you cry the fountain of youth. you will never not be the greatest exception.

footnote this is still a work in progress but this is essentially the fic i'm writing lol

[thefavouritelamb]

reread one of my old roleplays and found one of my favourite ocs... so this is what I have cooking in the near future

[thefavouritelamb]

──────　　𝓑UTCHER'S 𝓛AMB

kym , 8teen , previous account

( 🐏 ) NSFW & POSSIBLY TRIGGERING CONTENT.

this blog holds possibly triggering content as the author barely has any limits to their actual trauma and coping mechanisms. possible tags to these posts include but does not limit itself to: obsessive behaviour, posessive behaviour, stepcest/incest, selfcest, monsterfucking, power imbalance, age gap, trans characters, etc.

ORIGINAL TOYS nicolas giordano . atlas . dominique hausse