#resident evil village smut

[sirenscriptures]

the hunt — k. heisenberg

✦ synopsis: it seems as though your regular strolls outside of your village has attracted a particular man to be interested in you. despite many warnings from fellow villagers to not wander far off, you never truly listen. this causes your meetings to be much more frequent, only making him desire you more. there comes a point where these frequent encounters turn into a “game”. as you have not much else going on back home, you figure, why not? it could be fun, right?

✮ warnings/notes: fem ! reader. villager ! reader. age gap (reader is in her 20s and karl is in his 40s) predator/prey dynamics. chasing. possessive, feral karl. thigh riding. dubious consent. oral (f. receiving) fear play. groping. pussy worship. outdoor sex. scent kink. use of pet names.

it felt as though all you ever did your whole life was run.

the sound of your rapid heartbeat drowned out the shrill screeching of the birds in the towering trees that surrounded you. the barely visible, dreary sky above you was framed with their decrepit branches that loomed overhead.

while in the past you’d usually find comfort in the quiet, empty forest just outside of your village, this was much different. in the space where you’d often find yourself taking a gentle stroll to clear your mind and to envelop yourself in a deep solitude that you weren’t always guaranteed, your footsteps were now scurrying across what you thought was your usual trail, chest burning with heavy breaths and a blooming mix of dread and excitement.

you didn’t even need to look behind to know he was gaining on you. even with the snow making your bounding footsteps sound softer, you knew he would find you. it didn’t matter how well you thought you could hide, either. one way or another, karl always found you when hosting this little game.

though, there was a fear present that would make both your mind and heart race when he was after you; the feeling that clouded almost all rationality within your actions. the feeling that made you stumble more than usual, and take the wrong turns, practically blurring your vision, causing every clearing to look the exact same as the one you’d just exited.

but even still, there was always the rippling, bubbling feeling of elation that followed. it lurked behind your fear, dancing with it while pushing you to have physical sensations throughout your body. even as you ran deeper into the forest, you could feel your blood rushing. the sound of your breath would shudder and crack, not even due to the cold. you could especially feel the warmth that arose in between your thighs at the thought of him catching you.

eventually, you had to force yourself to stop, practically wheezing out puffs of white smoke attempting to slow your heartbeat. you surveyed your surroundings, only to realize that you weren’t anywhere near the village now.

you took a deep breath, trying to consider a way to get out without panicking. your vision was still slightly hazy and you couldn’t fully recognize your own surroundings now.

“oh [name]?” his voice practically sung out from behind you. he was still at a slight distance, but close enough to where you could hear his heavy footsteps lurking nearby.

you flinched, frantically looking around for some sort of new turn, path, hiding place, something. the snowy clearing you were in only seemed to offer a few clusters of large trees, trunks thick enough to hide you even just for a few moments.

as you heard his muted footsteps approaching even closer, you hastened behind one of the trees, frigidly attempting to shrink yourself against the rough bark. though your chest was begging you for air, you forced your breath to quiet, barely letting out a sound.

the sound of his distant footsteps didn’t take long to enter the clearing you were in, a faint sound of metal jingling colliding with the pace of his steps. you could hear him faintly humming to himself as he abruptly stopped in his tracks. being able to hear everything from his slight chuckles to his rough, muted breaths made your heartbeat quicken again; fingers anxiously fidgeting with the fabric of your long skirt.

you couldn’t see it from where you stood, but karl was carefully surveying the surroundings, inches away from you. he knew you weren’t aware of how close he actually was to you, and that was the fun part.

he loved the power he had over you. the power to make your mind so blurred with fear that you’d lose all rational thinking. the power to make you so desperate that all you could think of was to pitifully hide behind a hunk of bark, internally casting terror-frozen prayers that he wouldn’t find you. yet, you always seemed to lose at this game…

“you know,” his voice sounded from behind you, causing you to clasp a hand over your mouth.

he shifted closer to you, quieting his footsteps even more. “i’ve always admired your scent.”

you could hear the cocky smirk oozing from his remark, the warm sensation in between your legs causing you to squeeze your thighs together.

“i don’t think you realize that i can pick up on more than your little village family.” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, nearly causing you to flinch.

“which means i can sense more about you physically than a regular human.” he inhales slightly, your aroma filling his chest with a familiar feeling. “i guess that’s one of the good things that mother gave me, huh?”

his steps grow closer, close enough to where he nearly grazes the back of the tree with his hand. you swear he can hear your own heartbeat by now with how rapidly it thumps against your chest. you squeezed your eyes closed, choking back a whimper as you took another shaky, deep breath.

“but you, little lady…” he purrs, breath warm on the back of your neck. “you’re all i want.”

in a panic, you tried dashing forward, only to be pulled backward by your arm. he swiveled you around, one of his hands pressed against your back, drawing you closer to him.

looking into his eyes, you could see the mixture of sadism and ferality burning within them. you could smell the faint stain of cigarette smoke and motor oil on his clothes, even with how numb your nose was from the cold.

your squirming in response to his firm grasp only made your position worse, as it took him no effort to time to have you fully pinned up against the trunk, towering over you.

“now, now…” he scolded, admiring how futile your attempts to escape were.

“i don’t know why you bother struggling. you know i never let you get away.” he chuckled, fitting your chin into the palm of his hand, forcing you to look up at him through glassy eyes.

you can barely let another sound escape you as karl crashes his lips against yours. the bristle of his beard scratches against you as you moan against his lips. you can feel his entire body pushing against you as his hands greedily roam and grope your body. his chest rumbles as he lets out a deep growl, hands squeezing your ass so tight, you swear the fabric could break at any moment. the warmth between your thighs feels scorching now with your wetness pooling inside of your panties.

one of his hands nestles in your hair as he pulls away, tugging your head back to expose your neck. his warm lips nip and suck your chilled skin, his other hand still massaging your ass.

your head is still a blur as he trails down to your breasts, leaving deep marks all over your skin with his bites. you’re so blinded by pleasure you don’t even notice the way he pushes his thigh in between your legs, hiking up your skirt with a single hand.

karl smirks as he pins your other hand above your head, marveling at the feeling of your drenched cunt on top of his thigh. even through both of your fabrics, he could feel just how warm and wet you’d become.

“poor baby…” he sighs against your skin, a calloused thumb massaging your wrist as his other hand unravels your blouse.

“you’ve been drenched this whole time, haven’t you?”

you can only respond with a meek nod, heat stinging your eyes and face as you lock eyes with him.

he lets out a low hum of pity, laying a kiss on your forehead before dropping your blouse and bra to the ground. you can see a spark in his gaze as he marvels at your naked frame, admiring how your chest heaves with trembling breaths; your eyes filled with an anxious desperation.

“ride it.” he commands gruffly, still locking your hands above your head.

you start moving your hips, feeling the slick fluids rubbing through your underwear, some of it even spilling out slightly.

with your back arching, you can’t contain your aching moans as you grind on his stiff quad, the fluids leaving a damp stain on his pants.

karl can feel his limits being tested. this whole time you were driving him even further into his uncontrollable ferocity, and he was slowly submitting to it, minute by minute.

“shit, babydoll.” he growls, hand grasping at your throat. “you’re already making a fuckin’ mess on me.”

your breath hitches slightly as he pulls his thigh down, letting your feet land back on the frosted ground once more. looking up, you can see his golden eyes ablaze with desire, before he’s completely on his knees before you.

admittedly, you were taken aback at the initial gesture, for you never considered the man to be a submissive of service type. but then again, you hadn’t even fully discovered the depths of karl heisenberg just yet.

his hands pull off your skirt and panties, the sight of your fluids glistening and staining your inner thighs fueling the fire inside his stomach. you can hardly stand at this point as his large hands clasp over your hips, hovering you over his mouth.

in this moment, you couldn’t help but feel like the helpless lamb staring her main predator right in the face. cornered in, trapped, ready to be completely devoured.

“i need to taste you.” he mutters partially to himself, swiping a finger gently over your lips, licking the remnants off.

you can hear him let out an aroused grunt, pulling your soaked cunt closer to his lips. a loud gasp escapes you as his tongue and lips slither in between your folds, gently beginning to suck at your swollen clit.

even with his face buried in between your thighs, you can hear and feel the vibrating growls of depravity and pleasure beginning to erupt from him. it was so apparent now that he was losing his grip. you didn’t realize at first just how much you were driving him insane.

“karl, please…” your voice cracks, the burning of tears stinging your eyes.

looking down, you can see your thighs trembling. you see how his fingers dig into your hips, promising to leave marks later. his mouth hungrily laps at your pussy, his gaze fixated on your gradually shattering figure above him.

the moment he pulls away, a string of drool trailing in between his lips, you can feel that burning sensation start to ebb, until he pulls you back into a kiss, a single hand encasing your throat. every second he kisses you, he makes sure you can taste yourself on his lips; frequently pushing his tongue against your own.

pulling back, he took a few moments to admire you. he could see your body start to tremble from the absence of his touch, causing you to squirm restlessly in his grasp. it wasn’t until now that he glimpsed the large bulge fully formed in his pants. he certainly felt it, for this whole time getting to touch you provided an exhilarating rush of blood in multiple ways.

he brings your face closer to his, gazing intently into your tear-streaked eyes.

“tell me what you want.”

you swallowed, hoping to clear your throat of the knot that had formed. it felt just like before; the fear that captivated your entire body, feeling as though your feet were cemented into the ground, unable to move.

yet, you breathe out shakily without much more hesitation, “i want you to fuck me.”

a teasing yet satisfied spreads across his lips at your request. his bare hands run up your sides, sending a shiver down your back.

karl wastes no time unbuckling his belt, letting his large, throbbing cock free from the fabric. you felt yourself growing wetter at the mere sight of it, the same fear being overwhelmed with the thrill of pleasure.

he knows how badly you want him, that’s why he chuckles darkly at your reaction. you look so beautifully helpless in front of him, he can’t help but want to do so much to you.

positioning his tip at your entrance, he begins by slowly pushing in, yet the slickness causes him to bottom out within you, already balls deep in your folds.

you cry out, back arching again as his cock is already pushed fully against your sweet spot. you can feel yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rest of your body shaking uncontrollably.

karl lets out a hiss through gritted teeth, not fully prepared for how tight you are. yet his thrusts are full and deep, stretching the inside of your walls to where you can almost feel it in your stomach.

“hah…can y’feel how good you’re taking me, baby?” he pants, breath hot against your skin as he holds you closer to him.

“can you feel how deep i am?” he pushed in slower at his words, the added pressure against your cervix making your head throw back.

“ah, please—karl!” you sobbed out in between thrusts. “i-i’m…mmh!”

he lets his thrusts pound into you sloppily, admiring how your breasts bounce with his inconsistent rhythms.

“gonna let go, hmm? gonna cum for me, sweet girl?” he beckons, a hand stabilizing onto the tree, pinning you harder against it.

you find yourself gasping for air as his cock pummels into you, thing strands of fluids leaking from you as he fucks you. by now you can hardly even form words.

you can hear how his growls have broken into lewd, heaving groans as he grows closer to his orgasm. he can barely even hold himself up as he fucks you even deeper.

“cum for me, baby.” he groans into your mouth as his lips collide messily with yours again. “show me who you belong to.”

you can barely hold back your noises as his final thrusts pound into you, the feeling of his warm seed eventually pouring inside you, only to leak out over your thighs.

the both of you have to take a minute to catch your breaths, a moment of silence in the forest clearing being filled with eventual steady, relaxed breaths.

karl can see immediately how difficult it is for you to stand, as you stumble within the first few tries. without hesitating, he pulls you into his arms, cradling you bridal style after getting your clothes back on.

in carrying you back to your village, you can see that satisfied glint in his eyes as he looks upon you. yet…there’s something more. even in such a short time knowing this older man, you can tell there’s something he’s not saying to you.

though, before you can even question anything, he already has you home before sundown, walking you into your house without anyone seeing.

karl pulls you in one last time, deeply kissing you. he looks at you with that same smirk, hinted with something lighter in his gaze before departing back to his distant factory.

“we’ll have to do this again sometime, sweetheart.”

written by sirenscriptures. do not copy, repost, rewrite, translate, use, or post to any other site.

[actuallysaiyan]

Kinktober Day 1: Werewolves(No one could save me but you...)

warnings/kinks: werewolves, arranged marriage, unprotected sex, creampies, scratching, slight dub-con, mentions of mates

word count: 2.8k

pairings: Karl Heisenberg x Fem!Lycan!Reader

teaser: “You didn’t ask everyone in this village if they oppose this union,” Karl says loudly from the doorway. Your body trembles as he walks closer to you and Hans.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @loki-love @witchofcustom @dreadsuitsamus @pyrofanatic @butterflieskeepcominback

a/n: welcome to the first post of Kinktober 2023! I got a little carried away with this one and it's probably the longest one. But I hope you all enjoy!!

You always felt different growing up in this village. It was like you were always meant to be held back. Something always felt wrong about leaving even if you desperately wanted and needed to leave. You knew that one day, you’d be married off to some asshole and have to push out at least five of his bratty kids. The thought alone made you want to run away but you always felt like something was making you stay here.

As the years rolled by, you found yourself more and more intrigued with the way people were so judgemental of the one person in this village that you found absolutely intriguing. Despite hardly ever speaking to the man, you knew you were so curious about him. Often you found yourself thinking about him and joining him in that factory of his. How it might even give you purpose in life to join someone who’s ideals don’t match all the other clones in this place.

Yet you could never drum up the courage to make your way to the factory. It often scared you just to look at it because of how much it meant to you. It intimidated you, and almost mocked you for being such a coward. A new life was only so many steps away and you could actually attain this. Though you never really could do something else and you knew your time was running out. Soon, your twenty-first birthday would be here and your parents had promised to find you a suitor by that point that would be your husband.

As the days go on, you find yourself desperately wanting out of this arranged marriage. The man your parents chose is horrible and you know that if you go on with this wedding, your life will be over. It doesn’t help soothe your nerves that your wedding night is meant to be on the full moon.You can already picture the monstrous sounds of the Lycans outside your window as your marriage will be consummated. It sickens you that you have no say in who you will marry.

Your mother sits you in front of the vanity table, and she begins getting you ready for the wedding ceremony. You know better than to protest what’s happening.

“Such a beautiful young woman you are now,” your mother coos as she brushes some makeup onto your face. “You’ll make a wonderful bride.”

Your stomach is in knots as you begin thinking about all those times you could have snuck out of your home and joined Karl inside his factory. All those nights you could have run off to somewhere new and started a life outside these walls. It’s too late for those fantasies now. You know you’ll have to swallow your pride and marry the man your parents have chosen.

The hours tick by faster than you’d like, and despite the fact that you know you have almost no way of getting out of this, you’re beginning to think of an escape plan. You consider all your options, and your mind goes to the Lycans. Maybe you can figure a way to rile them up so much that they will cancel your wedding. That way you’d have a few more days or at least hours to be able figure something else out.

Once you’re all dressed and ready, your mother escorts you to the carriage waiting for you outside. It’s almost completely dark outside, but there’s a little glimmer of the setting sun on the horizon. You’re ushered into the carriage that will take you further into the village and drop you off at the church. There’s no sight of the Lycans just yet but you know they’ll be present very shortly.

At the church, your husband-to-be is waiting impatiently. He knows he’s getting the better deal than you are when it comes to this marriage. Not only are you a good cook and very beautiful, but you are very adept with your hands and have a brilliant mind. All he can bring to this marriage is a good dowry that has impressed your father. 

There is a slight buzz from the people who are entering the church. You feel your heart sinking as you slowly approach the building. Your father brings you inside, squeezing your arm comfortingly. He knows you don’t necessarily want to marry this man, but he knows it’ll look bad on him if he doesn’t marry you off to someone who is worth your family’s time and wealth.

Once the doors open and you begin walking down the aisle with your father, everyone stops talking. You see the man you’re supposed to marry and your heart sinks even more. He looks way too smug for this to be good for you. You look away, staring out the stained glass windows for some sort of sign. Any sign will do. But the closer you get to the altar, the more you realize there is nothing left for you to do now. You have to accept your fate.

Hans watches carefully as you get closer to him, and he extends out his hands almost as if to snatch you up from your father. You look down at your feet, and you focus your ears on the sounds outside. You’re not sure how you’re going to pull this off, but you know you can do your best to get the attention of the Lycans.

“Finally, you’re here.” Hans says in a snarky voice. “I was beginning to think you’d never show.”

Your father smiles uncomfortably, “We wanted her to look absolutely ravishing for you.”

Hans smirks as he looks you up and down. You shudder at the way he looks at you. It’s like you're some kind of prize to be won.You swallow hard as your father finally hands you off to the man you’re about to marry.

Your eyes watch as your father sits in the front row, then you slowly move to be right in front of Hans. The priest saunters over, a bright smile is on his face. Then he grabs a large, leather bound book from the table. Your heart pounds in your chest when you realize that this is now truly happening.

“We’re gathered here today…” You hear the priest begin but you can’t think straight to keep up with his stupid little sermon.

Your eyes return to the stained glass windows. Outside the moon is now visible and with well-trained ears, you can hear the Lycans howling. You begin to pray and wish for them to hear your pleas. You’ve never prayed so hard in your entire life. Nothing would make you happier than to have them interrupt this wedding.

Hans squeezes your hand in a harsh way, bringing you back down to earth. You hear the priest clear his throat, and he begins reading more of the words from the old book. Then he looks up at the crowd and smiles at everyone. Everyone looks at you and Hans.

“Before I continue, I must ask you all if there’s anyone who opposes this union,”

Those words give you a sliver of hope. Just as he finishes saying them, you hear the loud howl of a Lycan very close by. Everyone looks around the room, their smiling faces make you so uneasy.

“Anyone? Is everyone okay with this union?”

Once more, you feel like there’s a bit of a stall in your marriage, and you wonder if some deity that exists outside this village has heard your pleas. The priest takes a breath before looking down at his book.

“Then let us—”

He’s interrupted by the sound of a loud thump. Followed by another one, and then another one. It’s not long before everyone’s attention has been taken from the priest and is now on the sound of the thumping coming from the door.

With a loud crash, you watch as one of the old wooden doors from the church falls over. You gasp when you see the person responsible for this. Your heart skips a beat as he looks over at you, grinning.

“You didn’t ask everyone in this village if they oppose this union,” Karl says loudly from the doorway. Your body trembles as he walks closer to you and Hans.

The priest rolls his eyes, “Like you really matter in this affair,”

Hans places his hand on your chest and pushes you so that you’re behind him, “Just what is the meaning of this?”

Karl is finally right in front of you and Hans, and he hasn’t wiped that grin off his face. You never truly realized just how intimidating and threatening he was. His large build makes him look even scarier than before, but somehow you know that he is your savior.

“This little sweetheart isn’t meant for you,” Karl explains as he pushes Hans to the side. “She belongs to me.”

There’s a bit of hushed speaking that begins to happen when Karl takes a hold of you. Instead of being rough with you, you feel his gentleness. You’re falling even deeper in love with him if that’s even possible.

The rest of the village remains mostly stunned, not really sure if they should even decide to intervene. Hans looks incredibly angry and your parents are cowering away in their seats.

“You see,” Karl begins, “She never was yours to begin with. She’s always been mine.”

Something about his words hit you so deep inside. You begin to see why you stayed all these years in this village. It was for him. He's been your reason to stay. You know that you always felt different from everyone else, but you never knew you could feel such a connection with someone like this.

Karl begins to pull you away and Hans tries to grab you again. He says that you are his bride but you’re already shaking your head.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Karl spits at Hans. “Nobody but you even cares if I take her or not.”

And with one look at the crowd of people, you know he’s speaking the truth. Nobody says a word. Nobody gets up to separate you from Karl. Hans tries to say something else, but he stops when Karl shoots him a dirty look.

You take Karl’s hand and he leads you out of the church. Nobody is saying anything. Nobody is doing anything. This is finally happening. You laugh to yourself, so happy that you were somehow able to leave everything behind so easily.

Karl doesn’t say much as he begins to lead you back to his factory. The moon is so bright on the walk home. The Lycans are causing a very big ruckus. The sounds they make as they howl at the moon soothes you all of a sudden. There’s some growling here and there, making you wonder if they are fighting one another to get closer to you and Karl. And you smile when you notice them beginning to circle around you and your beloved. Karl watches them carefully and he pulls you in closer. Then his voice booms as he tells the Lycans to not only calm down but to also leave the area. Without another action, the Lycans begin running off in the opposite direction.

You’re nervous but in the best way possible as you finally approach the factory. The grass is overgrown and it’s not very well-lit from the outside. You want to go inside despite everything you’ve ever heard about this place. Karl makes sure to keep holding your hand as he guides you inside.

This place feels like home even if you’ve never even stepped foot inside. You gasp softly as Karl sweeps you off your feet and carries you over the threshold. Your cheeks burn when you realize just how close you are to him now that he is carrying you bridal style.

“I couldn’t let that opportunity go to waste. You deserved to be carried over the threshold like that,” Karl explains as he lowers you to your feet.

The air between you is electrifying and heavy with a sudden need. Your eyes lock in a sensual gaze as his large hand cups your cheek and his thumb caresses your face. 

There’s no time for explanations as Karl kisses you with hunger and passion. His hands are busy unbuttoning your wedding dress. Your teeth clash and your tongues rub together as he begins backing you into the corner. Without another thought, Karl pins you to the wall and he begins to nip and suck on your neck.

“Have you ever wondered why you felt like you could never leave this place?” He asks you between the sensual kisses.

You nod your head and moan as his tongue rubs against yours. You know he’s got the answers you’ve been looking for.

“Let me tell you why…” he says, leaning in closer so he can whisper in your ear.

Karl explains to you that you’re also part Lycan, just like he is. That’s why when you were trying to get the Lycans attention, it actually worked. It also explains why they’ve never bothered you and how the sounds of their howls have soothed you instead of frighten you. And Karl ends his explanation with a heated kiss.

“You’re mine, sweetheart. You belong to me just as I belong to you.”

The skirt of your wedding dress is pushed up as far as it’ll go. Karl growls in frustration as he can’t quite touch you the way he wants with all the tulle and lace in his way. His large claws shred the beautiful wedding garment to bits.

“There, that’s much better.”

You whine as you feel his teeth and lips kissing your neck and collarbone. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud, shuddering and shaking with all this pleasure. You begin to feel something hard rubbing up against you as Karl keeps you pinned against the wall.

“One last thing I should mention, darling.” Karl growls in your ear. “The real reason why you couldn’t leave this place…it’s because I’m your mate and your mine.”

He holds you up against the wall as he begins undressing himself from the waist down. Your little panties are soon pushed aside and as Karl kisses you with animalistic hunger, his large fingers are spreading your folds to dip two of his fingers into your sopping wet cunt.

“Almost seems like you’ve been anticipating this, sweetheart.”

His words go straight to your core, making you drip even more of that arousing nectar. Karl knows he should take more time with you, but he’s been waiting for much too long. A few more strokes of his fingers and he deems you ready to take his cock.

Your eyes widen when you see the size of him. He’s large and thick, and you can see the red angry head of his cock leaking the pearlescent fluid. Karl smirks as he prods your hole with the tip, making you whine.

You cry out as he impales you onto his cock, and you feel something deep inside of you snap. You begin to rock against him, making him grunt at your sudden movements. He had a feeling you’d react this way given your Lycan nature, but he never knew it would feel this good.

Karl ruts against you, keeping you pinned tightly to the wall. You whine and moan, clawing at his back as the pleasure begins to take complete control over you. Though you have never made love before, something about this animalistic way of fucking has you soaking his shaft. It’s like you were made to take his cock.

“That’s it, pretty little mate. Ride my cock.”

You grunt at those words, your walls are squeezing him tighter and tighter as he fucks you so roughly. Neither of you can stop now, almost like you’re caught in a frenzy. It’s too good to stop. Too euphoric to imagine an end to this mating.

The coil in your stomach tightens impossibly tight, signaling your peak. You know you want it to last even longer, but it’s too good to quit chasing your high. Karl is right behind you, ready to stuff you with his potent seed.

A few more thrusts is all it takes for the both of you to be whimpering and growling at the immense pleasure you’re both feeling. You hadn’t realized until this moment that your claws have grown and are digging into his shirt.

His thrusts are more erratic now that you’re both reaching your peak. You see stars dancing in your vision as you’re falling off the edge to such a violent orgasm. With your walls milking Karl, he can no longer hold on. A loud rumbling of a growl comes from him as he fucks shots of his sticky, potent cum deep inside of you.

When he slowly pulls away after catching his breath, Karl leans in to kiss you softly.

“You’ll never have to be scared anymore, my beloved. I’m always going to keep you safe.”

[queensoybean0724]

Cleaning Up (Karl Heisenberg/female reader one-shot) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Here’s a Heisenberg/f!reader shower sex one-shot requested by an anon!  I hope y'all enjoy it!

Title: Cleaning Up

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, mentions of the Duke and Mother Miranda

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (shower sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, blowjob, doggystyle, P in V, unprotected sex *wrap it up kids*)

Word Count: 2493

Summary: Heisenberg has been working constantly and you have figured out a way to get him to take a much needed shower...

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters based on Capcom’s Resident Evil Village video game.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything resembling anyone, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

Gentle scribbling met your ears when you entered Heisenberg’s living quarters.  The smell of old, burnt coffee greeted your nose, a small pot cooling on the stove.  The bed sat on the far side of the room, messy and unmade.  Echoes of rattling chains, rhythmic alarms, and clanging metal sounded off in the distance…a noise you had grown accustomed to day in and day out.

Heisenberg sat at the dining table, hunched over a few pieces of blueprint drawings.  The man had worked tirelessly for the past couple of days.  Ideas for the soldats in his lab continued to flow through his brain and once he thought of them, he scrambled to write notes and draw illustrations so as not to forget them.

You let out a breath as you walked up behind him, leaned over, and laid a gentle kiss to the top of his head.  “The Duke said hello,” you said, placing a small bag of supplies next to his papers, “he also said that your special order should be in by next week.”

“Mmmm…” Heisenberg mumbled, turning his pencil over to erase and revise something he just wrote.  Your hands went to his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles.  Looking at the pages of papers on the table, you squint your eyes, trying to make out the illustrations.  Heisenberg jotted his notes down in German, just in case they fell into the wrong hands…the wrong hands being Mother Miranda.

As your thumbs kneaded up and down the nape of his neck, the scent of oil, sweat, and BO wafted up your nostrils.  Usually, it didn’t bother you…he smelled like a man and in most instances, it turned you on.  But with Heisenberg working nonstop the last two days, he hadn’t done his usual routines, showering being one of them.

“Why don’t you take a break and hop in the shower?” you asked as you went to the stove and poured the small remainder of coffee down the kitchen sink.

“You trying to tell me something?” Heisenberg shot back, still keeping his focus on the pages before him.

“Yeah, you stink,” you replied, putting the pot in the sink and turning towards him, “you also need to rest and get a full night of sleep.  I spent the majority of this week sleeping alone while you caught a few hours of shut eye a night on the cot in your lab…”

“I’m on the brink of a breakthrough, I know it!” he said, putting the pencil down and sifting through the small pile of pages to the left of him.

An inkling of a breakthrough of your own slipped into your mind.  With a smirk, you quietly toed off your shoes and pulled off your socks.  Heisenberg continued with his work, unaware of what you were doing behind him.  You pulled your shirt over your head and let it fall to the floor.  The jeans came next, you pushing them down your legs and pulling them off your feet.  Standing in your bra and panties, you reached behind you for the clasp at your back.

“Okay…” you murmured softly as you stepped closer to him, letting the bra fall down your arms, “I guess I’ll have to shower alone…”  And with that, you tossed your bra onto the table beside him.

You made your way towards the walk-in shower, unaware that you captured Heisenberg’s full attention.  One look at your bra made his head turn lightning quick.  His eyes looked you up and down as you opened the shower door and leaned in to turn on the faucet.  His tongue slid over his lips as you waited until the water was at the desired temperature.  The arousal inside him increased, his cock stiffening in his pants as he watched you hook your fingers into your panties, pushing them down your legs.  By the time you stepped into the shower, his will power broke.

“Aww, god dammit…” he growled, standing up straight, the chair moving back noisily.  You giggled as the water pelted your skin, turning to look back at him.  He let his trenchcoat fall to the chair before ripping off his sunglasses and the three trinkets that hung from his neck.  You tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the water drenched your hair.  A gruff curse from Heisenberg made you open your eyes.  His fingers struggled to remove the contraption that was clasped around his left thigh.  You pressed your lips together to keep from giggling.  Seeing him getting flustered and impatient in order to get to you made you smile.  He never could resist an opportunity to get his hands on your body.

Once it was removed and dropped on the table, he quickly ripped off his buttoned shirt and undershirt.  His eyes fused with yours as he pulled his boots and socks off, going for his belt next.

“I thought you were too busy with work to shower…” you teased, your hands moving up to your breasts, your fingers circling your nipples.

He clenched his jaw, growling low in his throat as he undid his belt and shoved his pants down his legs.  “Oh, you’re gonna get it, sweetheart…” he promised.  Once he was rid of all of his clothing, he stomped towards you, entered the shower, and closed the door behind him.

A whimper escaped your mouth as one of Heisenberg’s hands gripped the back of your head, his other hand pressed to your lower back.  The front of your body melded to his as he leaned forward to kiss you.  Your arms wrapped around his body, digging your fingers into his back.  He moaned against your lips as his tongue pushed into your mouth.  Your body churned with arousal, your pussy getting wet.  Heisenberg’s teeth sunk into your lower lip, sucking on it forcefully, which caused you to whimper again helplessly.

“Karl…” you begged, parting your thighs and pulling him tighter against you.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, moving you backwards and pressing you against the wall.  The sudden shock of cold tile against your skin made you suck in a shocked breath, your eyes flying open.  Heisenberg wasted no time, swiftly pushing his thigh between your legs, trapping your hips in place.  

“It feels good, doesn’t it, my love?” he purred, pushing his thigh upwards against your cunt.  You looked up at him as your mouth dropped open, a wordless moan echoing in the shower.  You arched your back, hands moving down to his ass, desperate for more contact.

“Oh fuck…” you sighed, grinding against him, “...Karl…oohhhh fuck, Karl…”

He smiled and laughed as your movements became frantic and wild.  All of this to get him to shower, unaware that he would quickly turn the tables on you.

Heisenberg pulled his leg from between yours.  Just as you were about to cry out in protest, you watched as he sank down to one knee before you and lifted your leg to drape it over his shoulder.  “You want me to shower, huh?  Well, first, I want to fuck you until I’m fully sated…then you can wash me…”

“You really expect me to wash yo…” you started before Heisenberg’s tongue slid between your pussy lips.  A sudden sharp cry of euphoria slipped from your lips as he licked around your clit, pushing down to your opening and back again.  The water that rolled down your front mixed with your juices and Heisenberg slurped both into his mouth, swallowing it down.

You pushed your hips forward, spreading your thighs, and bucked against his face.  His mouth was a force of nature.  Every time he went down on you, he was like a man possessed, his tongue urgent and intense. One hand gripped your leg on his shoulder as the other reached around to squeeze your ass.

“Karl…don’t stop…keep licking my clit…oh god please…fuck…” you begged, looking down at him.  His eyes looked up at your face, never leaving your gaze.  You watched as his tongue flicked crazily at your clit, tickling and slurping in a way that looked borderline obscene.  Just watching him work was enough to make you cum.

Once your hands went to the back of his head, he knew you were seconds away.  He let you move and gyrate, loving the feel of your fingers simultaneously digging into his scalp and pulling his hair.  “Karl…oh fuck…I’m close…I wanna cum on your tongue…”

He grinned and moaned in agreement as his lips closed over your clit.  You tilted your head back against the tile wall, riding his face, screaming and crying out in ecstasy as the hot water rolled down your body and onto his.

“OH GOD DAMMIT, KARL, I’M CUMMING I’M CUMMING RIGHT NOW PLEASE…” and with one last shout, your orgasm pulsed through your entire body.  Heisenberg’s muffled laugh vibrated against your clit, giving your orgasm more intensity.  You trembled as your body bowed forward, still riding the enormous sensations.  Heisenberg pressed his hand against your pussy as he stood up, letting you fall against him.

“I’ve got you, doll,” he whispered against your ear, keeping his hand on you as you rode out the last of your release.  You bucked and writhed, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

“Karl…oh fuck…that was so good…” you moaned, kissing from his shoulder to his neck, your tongue licking the water from his skin.  Heisenberg grunted at the feel of your lips and tongue, both hands moving around your body, rubbing up and down your back.

“Now…” he murmured, “let me push my cock…”

Before he could finish, you slid down his body and kneeled before him.

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart,” he started to protest, “I meant in your cunt, not your mouth…although I do appreciate your enthusiasm…”

You giggled as you looked up at his face before focusing on his hard cock.  “But I want to,” you purred, wrapping your hand around the base, “let me tease you for a bit before you fuck me…”

Heisenberg’s eyes glazed over as a low rumble started in his throat.  “Ooohhhhh darling…”

Whatever words he was about to direct at you were long gone as you extended your tongue and, starting at the base, licking a slow line up to the head.  

“Mmmmmm goddamn…” he grunted, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.  The water that pelted his shoulder slid down the front of him.  A few rivers of water cascaded down the length of his prick and fell into your mouth, which you swallowed.  You closed your eyes and moaned as you took the head past your lips and began to slurp softly.

“Y/N…” Heisenberg growled, “...that mouth…that unbelievable mouth of yours…oh fuck…”

Your eyes opened and you looked up at him.  One hand went to your hair, holding your head as he slowly thrust his hips against your face.  The other pressed to the glass of the walk-in shower.  With the steam fogging up the glass, his hand left behind a print that made this little trick to get him to shower all the more erotic.

His eyes opened and looked down at you as your mouth bobbed up and down on his dick.  His chest started to rise and fall quickly, arousal brewing in his stomach.  You looked positively sinful on your knees before him, pleasing him with your breathless moans that stirred him to his core.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N…” Heisenberg warned, “...stand up so I can cum inside of you…”

You obeyed his command and just as you got to your feet, he whirled you around and bent you over.  Your hands connected to the tile wall, palms pressed flat.  “Karl?” your moan coming out like a question.

His right hand slowly jerked his cock as his left hand gripped your hip, aligning with your ass.  “Arch your back, darling,” he instructed, sliding the head of his cock against your pussy, “just like that…oh…such a good girl…”  

Your eyes widened and your moan echoed in the shower as Heisenberg’s length pushed inside of you.  The feel of him plunging past your G-spot made you see stars.  He didn’t stop, continuing to move deeper, deeper, tunneling inside of your tight cunt.

“This snug little pussy of mine is gonna drain my balls dry,” he grunted, finally stopping once he was fully sheathed inside of you.  Biting on your lower lip, you pulsed your walls around him, clenching and unclenching rhythmically.

Heisenberg couldn’t hold himself off any longer.  With both hands on your hips, he started to thrust.  The shower was spraying your back as his hard pumps made droplets fly against the tile and the glass walls.  He grunted and cursed as your soft, wet skin slapped against his own.

“Karl…” you pleaded, looking over your shoulder at him, “...fuck, Karl…keep going…please…keep fucking me…oh fuck it feels so good!!”

His hips increased in tempo, moving in and out, stoking the arousal deep in you.  “I’m gonna make you cum again…cum fluttering on my cock…I want you screaming my name, Y/N…don’t ever forget who you belong to…”

His hands moved around to the front of your body, both hands moving to your breasts.  Pressing his front to your back, he kissed and licked your wet skin, his fingers pinching your nipples.  “Oh fuck, Karl!  Yes!!  Please…oh god…oh my god, Karl…”

Heisenberg licked up your back and leaned over to your ear, his hot breath making you shiver.  “Cum, sweetheart…cum for me…”  One hand stayed on your breast as the other moved down your stomach and between your legs, finding your clit swollen and achy.  He grunted in your ear as he started rubbing you hard.

“Fuck…fuck…Karl…please…I’m cumming…I’m cumming…OH KARL FUCK….KKKAAARRRRLLLL!!!!”

Your pussy pulsed and fluttered as your orgasm exploded around him, your juices quenching him.  Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your body convulsed, your hands sliding down the tile wall.

“There’s my girl…” Heisenberg grunted with each slap of his groin against your ass, “...my…good…fucking…girl…OOOHHHHH FFFFFUUUUUCCKKKKKK!”

He came with his mouth pressed to your shoulder, shivers coursing through his limbs as wave after wave of his release shook his body.  Your head hung low, water dripping from your hair and around your face to the bottom of the shower, swirling down the drain.  Panting, you waited until Heisenberg started to move.  With a heaving grunt, he slowly pulled himself out of you.

“Fuck, Karl…” you marveled as you stood up straight, turning to face him, “...I think every shower should be taken together from here on out…”

He chuckled as he reached for a washcloth and a bar of soap.  “I couldn’t agree more…but, you know, as a way to conserve water.  We must be ecologically responsible after all…”

You playfully slapped his arm and he roared with laughter.  Taking the cloth and soap from his hands, you worked them into a lather.  “Okay, smartass…turn around…let me wash your back first…”

[therealmofamorus]

(Ask, Original Male Stud Crossover, Office CEO) Alcina offers Makoto and ONLY Makoto cookies in the office. Did she do it to be nice to the man, or is there another reason for this? Like she put her cum in the cookies, or something else.

[angelltheninth]

Alcina Makes You Her Plaything

Pairing: Alcina Demitrescu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, blood sucking, possessive sex, size difference, cunnilingus, face sitting, Reader is on top but not in control

A/N: More tall vampire lady because I'm feeling an very sapphic mood.

"You should be closer to me for this. I will not bite without warning." Her fanged smile didn't bring comfort, you've seen her bite without warning before, felt it on your skin, through your skin. You were helpless, naked on top of her, yet knew you held no power when compared to her. "My word is not good enough I see. Then a demonstration instead."

Her hands pulled you forward with ease, her tongue darting out to meet your clit. You let out a startled moan but Alcina wasn't deterred, licking the spot again. "My Lady... please... I'm not worthy of this. I've done nothing to deserve it."

Another moan escaped you as her mouth opened to envelop you, her tongue licking slow, broad strokes through your folds, lapping every drop of your arousal like it was her favorite drink. "That is not for you to decide. You, darling, are perfectly fit to be my little, new human plaything." She made a slow circle over your clit, shifting your legs so your knees dug into the lavish pillow, "Or do you think I made a mistake?"

"No, of course you... you would never. I merely oh!" Warm lips sucked around your clit, making you arch your back, your head thrown back from sudden pleasure.

"Careful. You should really hold onto something." Per her orders you grabbed hold of the bedframe, just in time for Alcina's tongue to push inside you, folding upwards, reaching deeper then any human tongue could. "The sweetest thing for me. You only need to listen to me, I will show you what true pleasure is like. No more nights spend with your fingers for relief." She heard you... of course she did, she knew everything happening within her castle. "From now on when you experience these urges, you come to me."

There was no need to repeat herself, she knew you would listen, it was a desire you thought was secret, but here she was bringing you to your climax with her tongue. Your hips rolled against her, knowing you wouldn't hurt her no matter how hard you pressed down. Every lick sent shivers up your cunt, through your whole body, ending with a strained moan. "M-May I-"

"Go ahead. Come for me, my pretty, pretty girl." It was Alcina calling you hers and her tongue licking up faster and faster, until your body shook with pleasure, then pain as her fangs pieced your thigh and drank. You were already light headed, " Your blood tastes even sweeter now. Hmm, yes, I think this will be a good arrangement for us. I look forward to seeing you in full bliss again." Her eyes shone with lust other then for your blood, her hair not even damp while you could feel your sweat dripping down your spine. She pulled back from you, lips a deep red color, made into a broad smile.

As she angled you closer she pressed a bloody kiss right above your womb, yet another one of her marks on your body.

[cillivnz]

Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!

Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...

I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍

Love your work!!!

façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]

PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER

WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.

A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you’re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,

i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.

Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).

Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.

there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?

"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—

"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.

căprița mea mică : my little doe

cameristă : maid

Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!

𝓗unters.

Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.

Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.

How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.

The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.

'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.

Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.

After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.

Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.

He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.

There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.

You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.

You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.

Your heart sank at the etchings.

Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.

Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.

There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.

But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.

Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".

You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.

"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.

The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.

Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.

No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.

Fuck yeah.

Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.

Fuck, no.

The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.

Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?

You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.

While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.

"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.

His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."

So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.

The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.

As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,

Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.

Hoping to have you with me,

Alcides Dimitrescu.

Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.

You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.

For now.

As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—

Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.

He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?

Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.

Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.

Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.

Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.

The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.

You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.

The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.

"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.

Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.

"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.

"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."

You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.

"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:

"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."

You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.

"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.

You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.

Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.

"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.

To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."

Fair enough.

You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.

Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.

He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.

He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."

He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.

You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.

Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.

This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.

He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.

You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.

So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.

You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.

You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.

The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.

On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.

Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.

You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.

"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.

Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."

"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."

"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."

"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."

That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.

"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."

"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."

You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.

You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.

Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.

Huh.

If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.

When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."

My Lord.

The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.

Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.

The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.

By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.

Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.

You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."

Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.

"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.

Oh, that's it.

You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.

The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.

Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?

"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."

That's it, honey, just let go—

"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"

Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.

As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.

What have you done?

You woke up disgruntled.

Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.

The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.

You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.

As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.

This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.

"No, no, no, no, NO!"

This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.

When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.

You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.

Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.

By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.

Sweet.

You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.

Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?

So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.

You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.

"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."

"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.

"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.

So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.

Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.

You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.

For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.

You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.

Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.

Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.

"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."

You groaned a string of profanities.

It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.

Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.

The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.

You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.

The handwriting.

It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.

How in the hell did— Wait.

'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',

that's where you are right now.

Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.

Or at least that was the plan...

You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.

Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.

A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.

Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.

Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.

You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.

With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"

"You could've just asked, mic vânător."

Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.

"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.

"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.

It's never that fucking easy, is it?

"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.

When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."

"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."

"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."

You couldn't bear it.

Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".

"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.

You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.

The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."

His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.

He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."

Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."

Every second passing by was petrifying.

The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.

The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.

"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.

"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.

With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.

You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.

At your pussy.

You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.

Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.

Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.

"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.

Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.

Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.

"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.

"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.

"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.

Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.

You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.

"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.

Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.

You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.

"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.

He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.

You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.

He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.

His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.

No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.

The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.

When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.

"Alcides, no—"

You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.

You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.

It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.

You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.

When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.

You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.

Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.

"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.

Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.

One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.

After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.

Your mother awaited your letters.

Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.

[mrswint3rs]

𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐩𝐭𝟐 (ladies version)

Includes links for the following ^ + the Dimitrescu

Mostly girl on girl stuff (a few of these are 3d of them) lmk if i accidentally reused something 😭

Ada [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] [Link 4] [Link 5]

[Link 6] [Link 7]

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Claire [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] [Link 4] [Link 5]

[Link 6]

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Ashley [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] [Link 4] [Link 5]

[Link 6]

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Jill [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] [Link 4] [Link 5]

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Sheva [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] [Link 4] [Link 5]

[Link 6] [Link 7]

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Alcina [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] (i cant rlly find stuff that makes me think of her idk)

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Bela [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] [Link 4]

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Cassandra [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] [Link 4] [Link 5]

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Daniela [Link 1] [Link 2] [Link 3] [Link 4]

. ˚◞��� ⃗ *ೃ༄

[wherethewolfsbaneblooms]

Jarl Dimitrescu Resident Viking AU. Coming soon…

[visionsofmagic]

day 24: chris redfield [riding]

࿓ synopsis • you try to take him raw.

―❦ nsfw, re: village!chris, brat!reader, f!reader, cumming, swearing, pet names, raw & sore, power play (kinda), maybe a little bit oc!chris, praising, size kink, ‘is all I guess! • 0.8k • wow, first time writing for him & it is enough to make me go crazy over him as if I am not already! anyway, enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“c-chris!” you moaned shamelessly, eyes half-open, mouth wide open, hands on his well-built chest to hold onto, and pussy soaking wet onto his cock that you try to sit on properly. “it’s too much - I can’t move!”

“oh yes, you can baby,” words of encouragement goes from one ear to leave from the other as you begin to cry because of how unprepared you were to have him like this - you wanted it to be raw and rough as always, being a little brat for him to amuse, you regret your decision now yet you can’t deny the fact that it feels so good that you try to hold yourself from sitting down entirely and leaving your pussy sore enough to get pain.

however, chris is there to help as he picks your smaller body up, comparing to him, and saying sweet things into your ears as he sits down on the chair still - all his glory sends another kind of pleasure to your body when you look at him as he still holds you by the waist, fingers playing with the flesh under his skin to call you down.

“just sit on my cock,” he says shamelessly, “it will fill you up perfectly - you have already soaked so much pretty girl, it will be easy.”

“easier to say than do it- agghhh - chris!”

he chuckles playfully, watching the perfect sight in front of his eyes as he leans back onto the chair further, hands traveling until they reach your hips, gazes on your chest as you breathe rapidly because of the sudden action he has created; putting you down on his cock so that he can finally be inside your hot walls entirely, leaving no room, opening you, then, waiting for you to move after adjusting it.

hitting his chest both furiously and softly, earning a little smile from him that you can’t see exactly because of the tears forming in your eyes, washing your face as you slowly begin to move your hips - feeling every motion through your body, you bite your own lips not to be so noisy but chris who stays and watches you in silence takes you by the chin, picking your face up, he begins to kiss you passionately, taking the remaining breath away from your lungs.

“chris, ohhh -“ you moan into his mouth when he leaves them freely after biting them.

his eyes looking at your lips for a moment burn you, “yeah, like that my good girl, moan my name and never hold back. wanna hear all the voices you will make as you ride my cock.”

he sounds as if they’re the direct orders coming from him, and you feel like it, giving him what he wants - never holding back again as you start to move easily now, the juice your pussy soaking makes everything wet and sticky - creating lewd voice as you take his thick and hard cock inside your walls, earning a few spanks from him the moment you begin to bounce on his cock.

every spank comes from different parts of your body; ass that jolts up and down with bounces, pussy takes his length so well, breasts going up and down as if they have come from a porn itself. it all gives you different yet effective pleasure, making your climax come sooner than you thought.

his name goes out of your mouth as pray, his praises find your ears, the body reacts whenever his hands travel on it, voices are full of a mix of skin slapping to the skin, moaning, screams even, swears - mostly coming from him, praises - good girl, my good girl, taking my cock so well that wanna ruin you, oh that praises, filling your mind completely with him.

hair on his thighs increases the pressure and pleasure you get, the sight of his abs getting tight is worth watching - including the expressions he has on his attractive face, length twitches inside you gives the satisfaction.

you smile with such pride that chris lowers his head down, furrowing, yet still looking so damn well. “what’s it pretty?” he asks, mocking you with a deeper voice, “feel pride, fuuuck! - for what, mmmhph, making me like this, hm? - riding me so - agghh, fucking good?”

“yeah,” you say between rapid breathing, “all of it, and for making you cum.”

“oh, making me cum, huh?” he chuckles, shaking his head in both surprised and amused manner, “you didn’t earn it -“

“yet.”

you challenge him - and it ends when you ride him faster, taking him deeper, and even pulling his hair - holding him by the neck, giving him what he needs; being the one who receives the attention and affection, you make him cun so hard and much into you that his hot semen drips from your core onto his thighs, making a mess out of both of you.

you’re always winning the challenges after all - if it involves fucking chris redfield’s brain off.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina 🩵 @snowprincesa1 🩵 @dookiemeshibear 🩵 @manuusrw

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱? ⦒ ✶.*

pairing(s): ethan winters x afab gn reader synopsis: ethan can't sleep again. as his doting partner, you reach under the sheets, giving him temporary solace to his nightmares at the village. content: smut 18+ only mdni, soft dom ethan, hand & finger kink, sensual, oral (m! receiving), deepthroat, finger fucking, body worship, pet names, hurt/comfort, events in re8, mentions of trauma, nightmares, scars, stitches & prosthetics. a/n 2: please check out my friend @emilzke's ethan winters x reader work called 'rebuilding' which i absolutely love (she got shadowba-nned so give her some love thanks!) a/n: belated birthday gift to @obsolescent, one of my favourite people on this app! sorry this took so long! ! even if its not your bday anymore, hope you still had a good night lovely! enjoy! also inspired by this art of ethan. « 2.2 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

It all started from a little small talk, quiet reassurances of ‘how was your day’ shared intimately under the privacy of the moonlight and each other’s eyes until both of you drift into slumber. The bed, in which you rest together when night falls. Two bedside tables, lived in, and for a moment, a sense of normality has returned.

Ethan was restless in his sleep—a side effect from full-day’s work of software debugs and upgrades that he maintains on the daily. Or perhaps, something more. Something that happened in the village that he spends every minute trying to forget. And despite the passing of seasons, the memory lingers like persistent heat.

His hand fidgets under the covers, shifting fingers up and down in desperation to find yours, as if you might disappear, kidnapped by the shadows of his nightmares and he’s back there again, finding missing flasks, patching you together piece by piece like a detached puzzle. But what he’s actually looking for are parts of himself, that seem to still sit underneath the crumble and debris of the buried village.

“R-Ro…” Ethan’s voice hitches out—frantic, weak.

Through muffled strings of your sleepy breath, you rummage under the sheets to find his hand.

“My dear… It’s me. I’m here.” You turn around to lean into the column between his neck and shoulders, made perfect for you. The moment your hands meet, Ethan clasps them tightly, before relieving, loosening in your reassurance. “You’re okay now. Rose is okay.”

Ethan’s eyes open lightly and just like you promised, Rose is in the cot by your side, gentle baby's breath floating through the air. He brings you closer to his chest, just to nestle into your warmth as he peppers kisses on the crown of your head.

“Did you sleep?” You coo, hands running up his naked torso just to feel them against you.

“A little. I’ll go back to sleep soon. Just need a second.” His chest heaves in front of you, and from what you know about Ethan, his quickened heartbeat will only take a while for him to calm down.

You look up to see him, and find that his eyes are wide awake, simply staring at the ceiling, as if counting sheep to hypnotise him back to sleep. Through lidded eyes, Ethan sees you; and smiles at how you look. His hands move unthinkingly, bringing them to your face before he even realises he’s caressing it, sending a gentle shiver of warmth through your spine.

“Ah.” Ethan puts his hand in the air to stop him, chuckling bashfully. “Sorry for keeping you up. Get some sleep. You have work tomorrow.”

“I’m awake now.” You grumble, catching his hand in the air back to your face, like a toy stolen from a child. You press his hand on your cheek, keeping him there, which Ethan has no problems with.

His hands are different now, you thought as you run your fingers down his hand, feeling every stitch, bump, and rough texture that ran along the back of his palms before hitting you with the cold knuckle of his metal prosthetic fingers along where his ring and pinky finger should have been.

What used to be the compliment getter for Ethan, through the bruise and burns had lost its natural shine, not even his superhuman healing speed is immune to the scars. But to you, the rugginess simply enhances his beauty. Stitches tracing like a map to a treasure, red patches of scar like cherry kisses gracing along the soft plush of his palms. You love it all.

Those are proof of Ethan's survival—That was all you wanted. To hear and feel his presence in the mundane. Side by side with the man you love. But to him, he lost something that day. A part of his soul ripped apart, still underneath the crumble and debris of that buried village.

“Do you need help sleeping?” Your half-lidded eyes can’t obscure your devilish glint in your eyes, hand rustling underneath the sheet, obscure him from the view of what you’re about to do to him. His eyes meet yours, staring right back in disbelief, but simultaneously unable to resist what you have to offer for him in this quiet night.

“Now?” He seems to be genuinely considering the idea. “What if Rose wakes up?”

“She won't if you keep quiet.” You bring his hand to your lips to pepper kisses on his hands, slowing as you’re licking the length of each finger. The pain goes away, replaced by lust, but only ever so slightly.

“Can you do that for me?” You pause, waiting for his answer, and he nods surely. “Good boy.”

Wasting no time to help to get comfortable, you dive your head under the covers just to resurface as a lump under the sheet. Ethan clears his throat in anticipation as you tuck your fingers into boxers, removing just enough for his cock to spring up and meet you in the face.

You run your tongue at the tip of his crest, swirling in small circles to tease his precum out of him, in which he squirms, pushing in his legs slightly before relaxing. It was difficult to see where you are in the darkness of the sheets, but you make do, finding where his crest meets his shaft and following it down the rest of his dick to find the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

When his cock is wet enough to your liking, you meet his tip with the soft seam of your lips, taking his length inch and inch at a time as you tongue around his hardening cock. A low grunt escapes his lips, and you can hear his thoughts fading him as you play with him some more.

He places his hand on your head, blood surging down his body, not quite wanting to hurt you, or accidentally snag on your hair to make it painful.

That’s who your husband is, even when he’s enjoying, he would never want to hurt you. Or at least tries not to.

“O-Oh... m’ god, so fuckin’ goo- Nnh.” That is your cue to move in deeper, hopefully to catch him between words and leave him hitching his breath as you finish him under your nose. Your tongue clashes against his dick that only fills your mouth, eventually leaving no room for your tongue to explore him. The bobs of your head become more messy and difficult, and his whimpers only make you even more excited.

“L-Let m’ see you, babe.” Ethan stifles the words out, lifting the covers up, and you’re embraced by the light of the bedside lamp. A glimpse of Ethan’s silhouette and his round beady eyes staring right into your position that exposes you and the hunger you have for him.

With you now able to see, you catch how his eyes snap shut, brows twist in, feeling every single pulse climbing through his body. His hand that rests on your head grows tighter, one that is neither rough or gentle, just a reassurance and consolance of what you are going through. You feel yourself pooling from how lewd it all sounds.

“Fuck, how did I get married to someone like you?” Ethan whines, bumping his head into the headboard behind with a light thump, but he doesn’t care. You are right in front of him, and he’s taking in the sight of you in with every glimpse of attention he can offer.

The tip of the dick is at the back of your throat. Only now you feel the gag reflex—but you shut your eyes tightly, holding in a little longer until the feeling surely goes away. This is when you feel his hips jerk up against you, thighs widening to welcome you as he whimpers bitten pieces of your name until his spine shakes from the fervour of affection you have been pouring into him.

“G-Get off… I’m fuckin’ gon-gonna…” Ethan’s raspy groan erupts through the room, melodious to you, as his hand struggles to push you off, made weak for any movement from how your skilled lips have treated him.

Ethan falls back to the sheets, with one final grunt, unloads himself directly onto your tongue. And you accept, letting your sore jawline hang wide to receive the fruits of your labour. His hand untenses from your head, abandon to the side of him in order to recollect his thoughts.

You reach over the bedside table to retrieve the tissue box in order to spit out his cum for disposal. You roll back to your side of the bed, checking at Rose's slumber, and when you did you bring the sheets upwards, preparing for your sleep.

“Good night, Ethan.” Are your final words creeping a yawn before turning the lamp off.

Ethan pauses to catch his breath for a moment, then wraps his hands around you, coaxing warm kisses into your neck: “How’d you expect I sleep without tasting you first?”

“I’m on morning shift tomorrow. Need my eight hours.”

“You sure?” There it was. That sweet voice lined with a hint of mischievous tone. The one you can’t resist.

“I’m very sure.” You don’t hesitate, because you know it will give yourself an opening.

He runs his hand up your belly, slightly exposed from your lifted shirt, pressing strokes that almost feels like a massage. Ethan seems to know where to touch you every time to untense you. “By the time I’m done, you’ll sleep like a baby.”

You can be convinced. You can be convinced very much. Especially with how he reaches down to tease you, and knows how your body betrays mind, with how you have wet a patch in your underwear.

“Not very honest, aren’t you?” Ethan lets out an amused grin, as if returning the favour of what you’ve done to him at his barely awake state. “You’ll still get your eight hours. I’ll make you come in five minutes. Guarantee it.”

You roll your eyes and wave at him to go ahead, but secretly, your clit is pulsing at his forwardness, increasingly eager to let him please you. In which Ethan helps himself, running a teasing finger up the length of your cunt just to stop at your clit, swirling lazy circles which only earn a groan from you that Ethan has been desperate to hear all night.

“Etha-an… Hnng… B-Babe…” The feeling run into your veins, growing in need, knotting itself low in your stomach. He delivers as he promises with only his nimble fingers, through slick and slurp, explores the depths of you, finding the spot you desire with skilful ease. You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes to feel him filling you with his fingers alone, and encourages him to continue.

He spreads you, adding his second finger now, the cold metal of his ring finger, lacing them on the length of your cunt with practiced ease. The contrast between cold and warm only excites you more. Ethan dotes on your sweet voice, slipping the two curled fingers in and out through a perfect angle that pushes a muffled groan between clenched teeth.

“God, baby.” He takes that as a sign to continue faster and harder, jamming his fingers until the sound of your slick permeates the air, every muscle clenching at him. “You like it when my finger fucks you, huh?”

You let the sensation continue, allow yourself to completely give away control to the man you love. Let him take care of you, like you always do to him. Ethan is merely returning the favour. A slight pain enters through his sensitive finger that still aches from a past wound, in which he winces, and you catch on almost immediately.

“Y-Your hand…”

“Shh… Just be quiet and feel good.” He smiles, not intending to stop anytime soon. Ethan quickens his pace, before you start squeezing into his fingers, demanding urgency, speed through how your thighs close in, as if that would allow more friction on your naked skin.

You open your eyes now, and all you see is sincerity in his eyes, fixed upon you this whole time to make sure you are indeed enjoying what he’s doing to you. And somehow, that is the one action that tips you over the edge, rippling high moans through the back of your throat as you chase your own high directly between his fingers.

“Wow.” Ethan whistles, a bemused grin hanging by his lips as he feels your juices release, spilling on his fingers. “You came so much.”

Ethan brings his fingers up his lips, admiring his handiwork, dripped in your sweet juices, before putting them into his mouth. He runs his tongue around the sides of his slender fingers, savouring every part of his reward.

“Heh. Told you I just need five minutes.”

“That was ten minutes, Mr. Winters.”

“Maybe I can beat my record?” Ethan winks, quite terribly, frankly, and despite how his silly charms would normally convince you, this time, you are functioning with five hours of sleep.

“Don’t even try, Ethan.” He shrugs, slightly defeated, as he joins you into the cosy embrace of your shared bed.

...

“In the morning?”

“Are you serious right now, Ethan?”

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. god i'm so feral for him, every night i'm plagued by the thoughts of ethan cradling me to sleep and whispering into my ear (yes this is a marriage proposal). tags: @valsthea @httpsuguru @emilzke @daydreamrot @navstuffs @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @obsolescent © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[bombsquad9]

𝐋𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 + 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫/𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝗼𝐧𝐬: 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 (PT. 1)

Characters Included: Ada Wong, Alcina Dimitrescu, Albert Wesker, Ashley Graham, Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Ethan Winters, and Finn Macauley.

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𝑨𝒅𝒂 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒈;

—> Ciswoman (She/Her), Bisexual w/ no preference

✞ Gift Giving: God, this woman loves to spoil her significant other. Anything she sees and think they'll like? Boom, it's bought within a second and being taken home to them as soon as possible. Did you mention something? Boom, next thing her partner knows is that the same thing is on their bed with a little note. What's the point in having someone to love if you can't shower them in things they want?

✞ Physical Touch: It may not be full blown cuddling most of the time, but small subtle touches. The kind that leave a person wanting more in seconds. Ada loves having that charm on her partner, but of course she's a sucker for some hugs from behind and kisses. It really just depends with her, but she loves it regardless.

𝑨𝒍𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑫𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖;

—> Ciswoman (She/Her), Lesbian/Sapphic

✞ Gift Giving: Considering she is filthy rich and quite literally a lady of an entire castle, she'd like to spend some time pampering her significant other with all the things she can give them. Anything they mention wanting around her she'll find a way to acquire, even if it means a limb from one of her many maids. She'd do anything to get her partner's eyes to light up (within reason) and happily watch them as they get excited over the gifts. What can she say, she likes to spoil her baby.

✞ Quality Time: Alcina LOVES to spend time with her significant other. It doesn't matter if it's a small dinner with them, them sitting with her whilst she plays piano, etc. She loves the idea of being in the same room as her partner and having her full attention on them (and vice versa). She may be able to live a long time, but depending on the circumstances, her significant other may not be able to and she wants to have every moment with them. Don't get her started on if anything bad happens either, she just wants good memories with her special someone.

𝑨𝒍𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝑾𝒆𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒓;

—> Demiboy (He/They), Pansexual

✞ Gift Giving: Another gift giver, Wesker is not good with words, and he definitely does not like being touched. He's a powerful being, and why not show that he can do whatever by getting his significant other whatever they want?

✞ Quality Time: He's a very busy man, and if he likes his partner enough to actually be with them, then might as well spend time with them. His idea of quality time is quietly sitting in a room while both people are doing their own things. What's more ideal then spending time with your significant other and getting work done?

𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒎;

—> Demigirl (She/They), Straight

✞ Gift Giving: Ashley is the presidents daughter, so she's bound to come from a wealthy family, why not spend some of that wealth on her partner? Gifts can range from expensive jewelry to expensive dates even. Though, I feel like she'd also like making little trinkets for her special someone.

✞ Physical Touch: Ashley would be a very touchy person, always holding her partner's hand, giving them small pecks on the cheek, etc. She loves to show affection to the ones she loves, and is shameless about it. She does know there's a time and a place though, and if they want space she'll gladly give it to them (with a bit of a pout).

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝑶𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒂;

—> Cisman (He/Him), Pansexual

✞ Physical Touch: You cannot tell me this man wouldn't be touchy, he would be all over his significant other. He would have an arm draped around their shoulders, and arm around their waist, etc. If him and them were at home he'd be laying on them in their arms. He just loves the feeling of contact, it assures him that they're real and there, which puts a smile on his face just thinking about it.

✞ Acts of Service: Carlos would do anything to make his significant other's life easier, even if it was just by a little bit. The thought of lifting a weight off of his partner's shoulders when they're exhausted or have no motivation to do something makes him happy. It makes him feel useful, he thinks of it as a way to pay them back for putting up with his smart ass all the time.

𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑹𝒆𝒅𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒅;

—> Cisman (He/Him), Bisexual/Demiromantic/Demisexual

✞ Quality Time: Chris has been through a lot, and has lost a lot of people. He can't get the thoughts out of his head that something bad is going to happen to his significant other, so he wants to make every second count. It doesn't matter how, him and his someone could be in the same room, quietly doing their own things even. He just wants to have enough time with his significant other before anything can get in the way and cut that short.

✞ Words of Affirmation: Sometimes he just needs to hear from his special someone that they aren't going to leave. As I said before, he's lost a lot of people, most of them being very meaningful to him. He can't bear the thought of another person leaving, so hearing the words come out of his significant other's mouth in sincerity helps soothe his nerves, even if it's just a little bit.

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒅𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒅;

—> Demigirl (She/They), Omnisexual w/ a preference for women

✞ Quality Time: Claire thinks making memories with her special someone is extremely important, and what better way to do that other than spending time together? Whether it be a little date night or just laying in each others arms and conversing, she cherishes every moment of it. She likes seeing her partner happy, it makes her happy to know she's doing something right.

✞ Words of Affirmation: Claire loves praising her significant other, whether it be something as simple as a "I'm proud of you" or an "I love you". She wants them to know she loves them, and words are definitely a good way to do that. Expect her to shower her special someone with compliments and praise as much as she can.

𝑬𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔;

—> Cisman (He/Him), Bisexual w/ a preference for women

✞ Acts of Service: Ethan would quite literally go through hell and back to make his significant other happy, so why not do simple things to make their life easier? He likes doing things for people, and he loves his partner so they're a prime target off that. He takes no protests, especially if it's something so simple he could do it in like five minutes.

✞ Physical Touch: I feel like Ethan would be the kinda guy to walk up behind his significant other while they're cooking, and give them a long hug from behind. He'd come home from work after a long day and just wanna lay down with his partner and embrace them.

𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒚;

—> Transman (He/Him), Omnisexual w/ a preference for men

✞ Acts of Service: Finny here would do anything for his significant other. Similarly to Carlos, it helps him feel useful when he makes your life easier. Since he did a lot of the C4 work for his BSAA team, he just kinda got used to doing things for people too. It's a win/win for him, he gets to keep his brain active and some of your needs get met.

✞ Gift Giving: I feel like Finn would love to give his significant other little trinkets he sees or finds, or little things that reminds him of them. He likes to see the smile on their face when he comes home with a little gift for them. It warms his heart and he can't help but smile too. He also loves to give them things with a lot of sentimental value, whether it be something related to an inside joke, or something they mentioned a while back.

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𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: None Currently

A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

[g4yforethan]

RELAX

pairing: chris redfield x male reader

summary: reader treats chris to a great night after a hard day at work

warnings: cursing, kissing, smut

a/n: AHHH i just got re4 remake and i’m so excited to play it !!!!! i finished village a while ago so that’s why i’m writing this fic because look at himmm ;))

you were in the kitchen making a meal for you and your husband, chris redfield. he was away for two months on a mission that his team sent him on but he kept daily contact with you and left some text messages that were no doubt nsfw. tonight was going to be the night that you would see him since he left and he would only stay he night as he had to be gone in the morning for his next mission. as you prepared the table, you heard the doorbell ring. you went to the door and opened it. "hey baby miss me?" it was chris. you gasped and ran into his arms as he caressed your hair. "chris i missed you so much. please come in i just made dinner." you kissed his lips and guided him inside.

"haha thank you baby boy but i'm not really hungry to eat right now. i'm hungry for something else." you grapsed as to what he was saying and gave him a devious grin. you went up and kissed him as he picked up your legs and made his way into the bedroom. he threw you onto the bed and quickly took off his shirt. you did as well and touched his toned and muscular back. "god i missed touching your skin. it's the only thing that's been on my mind since i've been gone." he said as he roughly kissed your neck and chest. "fuck chris i’ve missed you so much. i’ve been waiting for this for so long.” you replied as he continued leaving kisses on your chest.

“fuck me please.” you said as chris immediately turned you around. “whatever you say pretty boy.” he took off his pants and took yours off as well before smacking your ass. he began licking your hole and leaving kisses around it. you moaned and grabbed his hair to make him dig deeper into you. he then put one finger inside which made you eager for more. “stop teasing me chris and put your dick inside me.” “calm down baby i’m getting to it.” he said as he spit on his 10 inch cock and slowly made his way into you. the first stroke hurt and he knew this and tried to go as slow as he can.

“ugh fuck your dick is so big.” you said as he started picking up the speed and grabbing ahold of your waist. “yeah you like that don’t you? fucking slut.” chris replied as he rammed his dick inside your hole. you rolled your eyes back and reached out your hand for him to stop but he didn’t. he flipped you over and lifted your legs up before entering you again. you kissed his neck as he fucked you and moaned into his ear. this turned him on even more as dug deep in your hole causing your toes to curl. his cock was hitting your prostate as an overwhelmed feeling of pleasure filled your entire body.

“oh my fucking god chris. i’m gonna fucking cum.” “me too y/n fuck.” he replied as you released your cum all over your stomach and his inside your hole. you felt his cum inside you and craved more. the both of you, now wet from each others sweat, laid next to each other now. chris’ arm was around you as you laid on his soft, muscular, and hairy chest. “you really missed me huh?” you said as chris started to blush. “yeah was it obvious?” “well considering the way you fucked me, it was pretty obvious.” the two of you laughed as you closed your eyes and began to fall asleep.

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Twenty-Nine: Karl Heisenberg + BreathPlay

You were constantly reaching out for Karl's hand. Enjoying the rough feeling of his cussed-covered fingers against your much softer hands.

Karl didn't seem to mind either after the initial shock that someone was touching him. Wantingly touching. You walked hand in hand to meet with the family and sat side by side. Pressed into his side, but continuously your fingers were interlocked.

Hand in hand when you walked around in town, and as much as Karl hated the idea of being around less intelligent people than him. He allowed you to drag him down to the middle of town and walk around the shops before returning to the factory after a long day out.

That was not the only time you wished that you could hold his touch. You yearned for a hand to run smoothly down your back and sometimes rest at the bottom of your spine. You longed for the soft touch of his rough hand.

You are the exact opposite of Karl. You yearn for the touch of another, and Karl yearns to not be touched. Karl is okay with his lonely life before you came along, and he's just as content with living it how it is now.

Yes, you are confused because when you look at Karl, you don't see just a friend, someone to talk to when the nights are quiet, and the factory is slow. No, Karl is something else for you. A bright light at the end of the tunnel. He's what you yearn for.

So when the touch you yearn for splits and turns into a need that you have to fill, something twists within your mind. You start to stare off more. Staring at Karl's hands as he works on bits of metal together, or how he tightness things together on a soldat.

The one that as you biting your tongue and squeezing your thigh together is when his hands stretch out, his metal hammer flying into his hand. It's attractive all on its own. The bludge of his veins, the girth of his fingers, it all has you in a haze.

"Y/n? Are you even paying attention to what I'm talking about?" Karl's booming voice pulls you from your naughty thoughts of his hands. "Huh." You say a bit too loud, and he rolls his eyes, "Earth to Y/n, what's got you being a space cadet today?" He asks, intrigued by your glazed-over eyes and gap mouth.

Karl has never seen you like this, and he's seen you in many ways. Blood smeared across your cheeks. A mixture of your own and others, your shirt half tore due to lycans desperately in need of stitches. Bare skin that makes his heart race every time he catches a glimpse. Y/n had been off, and Karl had taken notice. Take notice of how your gaze drifted from his face, down his arms, and then finally landed on his hands.

"I'm just… it's all fine." You say to Karl, trying to push away the fact that you not only got caught but also have no idea you were spacing out. His stare is deathly; you're an open book for him to read as much as he likes.

"No… I don't believe you. I think you were off dreaming…" You shake your head, trying to push him away from the right path he's already on. "Don't shake your head at me now, buttercup. Better if you just fess up to what you were thinkin' about." You feel like a deer in headlights. Wide-eyed and easily scared off.

The silence is unsettling, "Oh, buttercup, you want me to guess instead." Smirking up a storm, you think that's rather a good idea, and then it's a bad idea. But there's nothing else you can do. If you say the words, then it's all too real, but if he guesses it, then it means Karl already knows.

"I think…" He says, getting up from the side of the table, heavy boots on the ground beneath you. "you have been very naughty…" With each punch of the words that fall from his mouth, his hands graze up your back like you've always wished for. "thinkin' about me, and my hands." You breathe in quickly. If it's due to his touch or his words, you'll never know.

"I bet you've thought up a bunch of dirty things." He whispers into your ear. His voice was rough and scratchy. "I bet you would love it if I just wrapped my hand around your throat and kept you right on the edge all night long." You moan as you feel his hand reach the base of the back of your neck. "Let me just sink my fat cock into your tight pussy, hmm, squeeze your throat so you stars." You whimper as you clench your thighs tightly, willing the ache to go away.

Then just like that, Karl is gone, walking back over to his side of the table. You're left like a puppy following its owner. Shock is written all over your face. "Oh, what do you want more buttercup." He mutters as he walks off and towards the direction of the bedroom.

You follow like a lovesick puppy would.

Completed on: 08/20/23

Posted on: 10/28/23

Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

Resident Evil Master List // House Heisenberg Master List // Kinktober '23

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 28 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 28

Characters: Karl Heisenberg/female reader, Salvatore Moreau, mentions of Mother Miranda

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (dirty talk, blowjob, fingering, P in V, creampie, L-bombs, unprotected sex *wrap it up, kids*)

Word Count: ~3600

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters of Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter 28

The quiet that went along with the falling of snow was peaceful.  It wasn’t heavy snow; just a soft sprinkling of flakes sticking to the ones that already fell to the ground.  You sat in front of the large open door at the front of the factory, your knees to your chest, feet crossed at the ankles.  Your heavy coat, jeans, and shoes kept you warm as you looked across the expanse of white before you.  

The sound of the gate opening turned your attention to the left.  Moreau pushed it open wide enough to enter through and make his way up the snowy pathway to where you were seated.  You smiled at the man you had come to know as your friend.

“Hello, Salvatore!” you greeted, lifting your hand and waving.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said, trudging up the pathway towards you, “it-it’s a little cold to be si-sitting out here, isn’t it?”

You shook your head no, but still pulled the coat tighter around your body.  “It’s not so bad.  I like watching the snow fall…it’s good to see you. I feel like it has been forever…”

“It has be-been a long time…” Moreau stuttered as he came to a stop before you, “where is Karl?”

“Oh, he’s in his quarters drawing some blueprints,” you answered, “I thought I’d sit out here and breathe in some fresh air…would you care to sit with me?”

“Oh, yes…thank you, Y/N,” he grinned.  

You tried not to stare as Moreau struggled to lower himself on his knees, his thin arms shooting out to catch himself on the ground.  He rolled and landed on his butt with a swift huff of air, sitting upright.  Your heart broke for him.  It couldn’t be easy for him to walk, sit, breathe, and do normal things people often took advantage of.  His contorted body looked to be painful with the fish constantly fighting his human side for dominance.  Moreau was so kind to you and he had a good heart and was compassionate…he didn’t deserve what had become of him.

“So, what have you been up to?” you asked, turning your attention from the snow to him.

“Oh, just tinkering around in my medical laboratory, trying to keep busy with experiments, and hoping to find something that will make Mother proud…”

Your jaw clenched at the name of the woman who took Moreau and Heisenberg’s lives from them.  She poked and prodded at them without their consent, performed an experiment in a delusional quest of bringing her dead daughter back to life.  This entire village had erupted into chaos, several lives taken in hopes of bringing back one.  It made you sick.

“Salvatore, have you told Miranda that I’m here?  Does she know that there is a survivor from the plane crash…hiding here?” you asked.

“Oh, no…I haven’t told her anything about you,” Moreau answered, “Karl always tells me…’if you tell Mother about Y/N…I’ll gut you like the fish that you are.’”

You rolled your eyes at Moreau’s paraphrasing.  “I appreciate your discretion, I really do.  Karl shouldn’t have threatened you like that, though.  He can be an asshole, but you know that better than I do, don’t you?”

Moreau chuckled.  “Brothers fight from time to time,” he said, “but h-he can be kind.  He’ll bring me things that he bought from the Duke and so-sometimes he’ll give me bodies that he has no use for…”

You looked over at Moreau, arching your eyebrow inquisitively.  “Wait…you know about what he’s doing here?” you asked.

“I have a th-theory or two,” Moreau said, “it’s another thing I don’t tell Mother of.  She would kill Heisenberg for sure if she found out.  And I think she would try and turn you into one of us if she found you here.  That’s why he keeps you locked away.  He cares for you an aw-awful lot.  I think he is afraid you might turn out like me…or like one of the lycans.”

You stretched your legs out in front of you, looking down at your hands pressed to your thighs.  They had balled into fists as you listened to Moreau talk about his suspicions of what Mother Miranda might have in store for you if she ever got her hands on you.

“Don’t worry,” Moreau continued, “Heisenberg won’t let anything happen to you…and neither will I.  I like you, Y/N…yo-you’ve always been kind to me.  Not many people treat me with kindness…even my family can be cruel most times.  But you’re different.  I’ll never tell Mother…you’ll be safe as long as you stay here…”

You smiled at him.  “You’re a good man, Salvatore.  You have a good heart.  You didn’t deserve what happened to you.  I know Karl can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but you’re the closest thing to a brother that he has and even though he doesn’t show it often, I know he cares for you.”

Moreau smiled and looked out over the various piles of metal and junk accumulating snow over the front of the factory.  He stayed silent for a while as he watched the clouds roll overhead along the village.  You inhaled the crisp, cold air, enjoying his company, even without words being spoken.

*

Once Moreau left and locked the gate behind him, you pulled the doors shut, locking them as well.  You took the stairs towards Heisenberg’s living quarters, hoping that you had given him enough time to do some work.  If he was still working, you thought you’d grab a book and go somewhere quiet, or gather a pile of clothes to wash in the laundry room.

“FUCK!!”

The expletive that flew from Heisenberg’s mouth echoed down the hall.  You stopped short, straining to hear.

“God damn fucking cocksucking…fuck fuck fuck!!!!”

You walked quietly, coming to a stop at the open doorway.  Pursing your lips together so as not to rattle him any further, you peered inside.

Heisenberg ripped his hat from atop his head and tossed it across the table, his gloved hand running over his messy hair.  He hunched over a piece of paper, turning his pencil over to roughly erase a series of lines he had drawn.  With a growl, he pointed it back around and continued his scribbling.

“Karl?” you asked as softly and soothingly as possible, “is everything okay?”

He turned his head to look at you as you entered the room.  “Oh…” he mumbled, “...yeah, Y/N, I’m all right…it’s just my intelligent, brilliant, perceptive engineering mind has seemed to have fucked right off and gone on vacation!”  He took the pencil between his index finger and thumb and chucked it against the wall, it bouncing and clattering down to the top of the table.  “I swear to everything that is holy and unholy that if I do not correct these countless fucking errors that I have been running into in my lab, I will burn this factory to the ground around me!!”

You walked towards Heisenberg, coming up to the left side of him.  Leaning down, you wrapped your arms around his neck and laid a gentle kiss to his left cheek.  You felt the tension in his body lessen a bit, him taking a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, giving his shoulders a squeeze, “how about you take a break for the day.  I know it’s still early in the day, but walking away for several hours, getting some rest, and relaxing with me might be a way for your mind and body to recharge…then you can begin again tomorrow.”

Heisenberg pushed his chair back from the table and turned it towards you as he removed his sunglasses and placed them on the table.  His hands went for your hips as you straddled him.  “Yeah, maybe so,” he grumbled, looking up into your face, “everything as of late has been fucked.  Experiments haven’t been successful, these theories and drawings have looked like something a child could draw in primary school…”

“No more…” you interrupted, swiping the pages into a messy pile, upending them, and placing them right side down on the tabletop, “don’t focus on anything work related.  Just relax, take some deep breaths, and focus on other things…”

Heisenberg followed your advice, closing his eyes and inhaling and exhaling slowly.  His hands rested on your hips, his fingers digging into your jeans.  “Well, buttercup…with you in my lap like this…I’m beginning to focus on something other than work…

You smiled as his eyes moved up and down your body, his hands moving to the front of your coat, gently pushing it off your shoulders.  You removed your hands from his shoulders and allowed him to push it down your arms, letting it fall to the floor.  “I can think of another way to help get your mind off your worries…”  Standing to your feet, you took a step back and leaned over, your hands on Heisenberg’s knees.

“And what would that be?” he asked, his voice deep and gruff.

His tongue slid over his lips as he watched you spread his legs and lower yourself to your knees.  Your hands went to his belt, fingers working to get at his hardening cock.  Heisenberg watched your face, a low groan coming from his throat when your tongue slid across your bottom lip.

“Y/N…” he moaned, leaning back as you undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, pulling the zipper down slowly.  You looked up into his gaze and you felt a flutter in your stomach.  His gloved hands were balled into fists and his jaw was clenched, waiting rather impatiently for you to continue.

Heisenberg muttered a curse through clenched teeth as you pulled his cock out of his pants.  One hand went to rest on the table next to him as the other reached up to slide across your cheek and your jaw.  You leaned down and slid your tongue across the tip of his dick, tasting the first droplet of pre-cum.

“God dammit, Y/N…” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back.  Your tongue skated in circles around the head, its movements slow and torturous.  His gloved hand went to the back of your head, caressing your hair.

“That mouth…that fucking mouth of yours, pussycat…god fucking dammit, I wanna fuck that mouth…” he growled.  You couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped your mouth as you closed your lips over the head of his cock, hollowing your mouth and sucking slowly.  Heisenberg’s back arched as he moaned, wanting more.  He was an impatient man at the moment; he wanted to bottom out and to feel himself bumping against the back of your throat.

You took your time, swallowing another inch of his length before pulling away and teasing the underside of his cock.  His jaw clenched again, more expletives slipping past his teeth.  He gripped your hair, pulling you closer and pushing more of himself into your mouth.

“Do you want to fuck my face, Karl?” you asked between licking up and down the length, “huh?  You wanna cum in my mouth and watch me swallow it down?”

“Yes,” he growled through gritted teeth, “I wanna hear you gag and pant…I wanna watch your head bobbing up and down with my fingers in your hair…”  He looked down and saw you looking up at him with eyes that were both innocent and sinful.  You wanted to help him relax and also get all of his frustrations out.

“Then do it…” you whispered, moving your mouth and taking the head past your lips.  Not missing a beat, his fingers gripped your hair and slowly pushed your head down.

You relaxed as his cock traveled deeper into your mouth.  Keeping your eyes on him, you watched as Heisenberg licked his lips, his hips lifting slightly.  He bumped the back of your throat before retreating, pulling your head back by the hair.

“Yeah…” he moaned, pushing you down again, further this time.  You gagged on him slightly before he pulled you back.  He kept the tempo slow for a few seconds before speeding up.

He grunted in time with his thrusts, pushing himself and pulling you down.  Tears sprang to your eyes, the noises coming from your mouth borderline obscene.  His lips parted, his sounds increasing as he fucked your mouth with ease.

“Take my cock, Y/N…that’s it…uhhh…uhhh…take my fucking cock…”

Your hands gripped his hips.  Tears slipped down your cheeks.  You breathed in and out through your nose, keeping your throat relaxed.  Heisenberg looked sexy and rough as he used you.  He pulsed in your mouth, his moans and grunts getting louder and louder.

“I’m gonna…cum…almost…there…oh fuck, baby…take it…god dammit!”

You swallowed and hollowed your mouth, watching in awe as Heisenberg’s mouth dropped open, his head flying back.  He shouted as he came, the salty taste spilling down your throat.  You continued to swallow, your fingers digging into his pants.  His hips pushed forward, his fingers slowly untangling from your hair.  He struggled to regain his breathing, shivering from aftershocks.

“Fuck me,” he panted, looking down at you as he pulled your head back, his cock falling from your lips, “that mouth of yours is amazing…”  You smiled up at him, wiping the edges of your mouth.

With lightning fast speed, he pushed you to the floor, pressing his body on top of yours.  You squealed and laughed, bucking your body to meet his.  Heisenberg was swift, taking both of your wrists in his hands and pinning them up above your head.

“Oooooh Karl…” you moaned, looking up at him as he took one hand and held both of yours down.  He chuckled under his breath as the other hand slid down your body, stopping at your breasts.  You moaned and arched your back as his gloved hand groped and squeezed, running his thumb over your nipple hardening under your clothes.

“Since you gave me the single greatest blowjob of my life,” he murmured, his hand moving down your side, “I’m going to make you feel good, too…”

You tilted your head back as Heisenberg went to the front of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them.  Your thighs parted and your hips lifted as he pushed his hand down your panties, his middle and index fingers finding your clit.

“Karl…” you moaned loudly.  His eyes remained focused on yours as he rubbed your soaking wet pussy, circling your clit.

“This pussy of yours is constantly drenched,” Heisenberg marveled, “I’ve barely touched you and look at how wet you are…”

His fingers worked you into a frenzy, rubbing one way before using his index finger to flick your clit up and down.  The area was sensitive as you wriggled under his hand, both wanting more and the sensations being too much to handle.

“Karl…please…keep going…rub my clit…oh my god, it feels so good…” you pleaded, looking up at him.  Heisenberg grinned down at you, running his tongue along his teeth like a hungry wolf.

“You like that, doll face? Huh?  You gonna cum on my fingers?” he asked teasingly.  His fingers pressed harder on your clit, circling around and around faster.  Your mouth dropped open as you arched your back.

“If you keep rubbing it just like that, yes, I will…” you moaned.

“Dirty girl…dirty, dirty little pussycat…”  He lowered his lips to yours, hovering, barely touching your lips.  When you lifted your head to kiss him, he pulled back, a sadistic smile on his face.

“Mmmm…Karl, please…kiss me…make me cum…oh fuck, yes…”

“I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers…then make you lick your wetness clean off my gloves…how does it feel with my rough gloves on your sensitive clit?” he murmured, his eyes looking down at yours, your pupils blown and your lips quivering underneath his.

Your hips gyrated uncontrollably, desperate for release.  Every moan and whimper from your mouth made Heisenberg hard.  He wanted you…wanted to feel your pussy pulsing around his cock.

“Cum on my fingers…then you’ll cum on my prick…” he ordered, his fingers quickly rubbing you with added pressure.

“KARL!!” you shouted, tossing your head back.  Your arms tugged at his hand, wanting to pull away and wrap around his body, but he was stronger than you.  His grip on your wrists was firm; there was no getting away from him.

His lips attacked your exposed neck, kissing and licking your skin.  Your hips bucked against his hand, the feel of your release rising.  It was within reach…you were hurdling closer and closer to oblivion.

“Cum for me, little pussycat,” Heisenberg whispered, his tongue trailing up your neck and to your ear, “cum for me…all for me…”

Your body arched and grew taut before you finally broke.  Your orgasm washed over you fast and forceful.  He moaned in appreciation as you trembled and quaked under his body, admiring the symphony of whines and gasps you made.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned loudly, squeezing your thighs together.  He kept his fingers pressed to your clit, letting you milk every last bit of pleasure from his skilled digits.

“Now…” Heisenberg murmured into your ear, pulling his gloved hand from your jeans, “suck yourself from my fingers.”  He moved his index and middle finger past your lips and watched with unflinching attention as you sucked and rolled your tongue around them, tasting the mixture of your cum and the leather of his gloves.  “God damn, Y/N…” he marveled softly.

Once he pulled his fingers from your mouth, he sat up on his knees, quickly removing his trenchcoat and the three items always dangling from his neck.  “Take off your clothes,” he commanded, “I’m going to fuck you until we both pass out…”

You sat up and removed your shirt and bra before lying back down, pushing off your jeans, panties, and shoes.  Heisenberg ripped his buttoned up shirt down the middle, a few buttons flying off in the process.  You giggled as you helped him remove his undershirt and pushed his pants further off his hips.  You laid back down on the floor as he shoved his pants down to his ankles, too impatient to take the time to remove them and his boots.

“My lovely Y/N…” he moaned as he spread your legs, aligning his hips to yours.  You wrapped your limbs around him, reveling in the feel of his skin pressed to yours.

“Bottom out inside of me, Karl,” you begged, “all the way…”

Heisenberg growled as he pushed inside of your sopping wet cunt.  Every time, every fucking time he slid inside of you was unbelievably exquisite.  The way your eyes widened and looked up at him…he had never been gazed upon in that way before you.  He loved that look on your face, knowing that he was the one that brought that out of you.

“Y/N…uhhh fuck…” he moaned, kissing you deeply.  Your tongue stroked and circled his own as you clung to him, the sweat on his skin fusing with yours.  Skin to skin, the two of you slid against each other, your bodies bumping, gyrating, quivering together.

“I love you, Karl…” you moaned, “don’t stop…please…I’m yours, Karl…”

“You’re mine…” he breathed, kissing along your jaw, “...all mine, Y/N…all fucking mine…”

His hips pumped faster and harder, his cock tunneling deep into your cunt.  Your thighs tightened around his hips as you pulsed your walls rhythmically around him.  He shouted and arched his back at how tight you felt.  This, he thought, is the closest thing to heaven he would ever experience.

“I wanna make you cum again, Karl,” you panted, looking up into his eyes, “please…cum inside me…”  Your hands went to his hair, pulling the strands out of his face as your fingers dug into his scalp.

Bracing the palms of his hands on either side of your body, his hips collided with yours over and over, the steady slapping sound mixing with his growls and your voice pleading for him not to stop.  The two of you became louder and louder.  He was on autopilot, desperate to reach the pinnacle and jump off the edge, taking you with him.

“I want you to cum with me…” he said gruffly, moving his gloved hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.  He rubbed hard as he thrusted fast.  You squealed and trembled, still so sensitive from his fingers.  

One hand stayed tangled in his hair as your other hand dug into his back, holding onto him tightly, arching, writhing.  He was close, but he wouldn’t indulge himself until you did first.

You released a shrill shout and tossed your head back as you came around his length, your walls pulsing involuntarily.  Sweat slid down your skin.  Your cheeks flushed red.  Everything around you was hazy…all you could think of was him barreling inside of you.

“FUCK, Y/N…FUCK!!!!” he bellowed, cumming hard, his hips pressed to yours.  He couldn’t stop, the waves hitting him again and again.  The feel of you under him…it was fucking magnificent.  Nothing could pry his body off of you.

Pulling his body down to you, you held him close, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him.  He nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing heavily.  The both of you quaked together on the floor, enjoying the remainder of your orgasms.

“I love you, Karl…” you whispered, turning your face to kiss along his temple and forehead.

“I love you, too…” he said, moving to press his lips to yours, “nothing and nobody will tear you away from me…”

[angelltheninth]

Alcina eating you out during your period

Alcina can smell your period coming a day earlier. She starts treating you even more softly, which also tells you that your period must be close if your body isn't giving you enough signals already. You're ready to be pampered and be horny for the next few days, and Alcina is ready too, she doesn't drink blood for the whole day before so she's even more hungry for you when your period fully hits. Your sheets are stained with blood yes, but she never lets much of it get away and even it does it will be cleaned every day.

It's hard to get her head away from between your legs for all of the days you're bleeding, she doesn't have to eat anything else but you. Alcina won't bite you those days either, you're losing enough blood already, she doesn't need anything more. She is fully drunk off of you, completely content to keep you as clean as possible with her tongue and mouth, all the while making you come again and again to ease the pain from your period cramps.

Dividers made by: @cafekitsune

[cillivnz]

MISS A SPOT, HIT THE SPOT [lord dimitrescu]

pairing. LORD DIMITRESCU x MAID!READER (dub!con turned consensual)

initial, DIMITRESCU SONS x READER (very dubious consent)

word count. 3072

warnings. AFAB!reader, cursing, misogynistic themes, animal cruelty (using gator-skin on furniture; don’t call PETA on me, i’m sorry), groping, a little bit of exhibitionism, dub!con, fingering, reader is pinned against the wall, reader’s family has been serving the Dimitrescus, large age-gap, oral sex (both receiving), throat-fucking, tongue-fucking, clit play, pyromania, dacryphilia, extreme degradation, belittling, spitting, penetrative sex (p! in v!), squirting, multiple & forced orgasms, extreme breast/nipple play, reader’s just being used by the family, reader is called maid as well as a pet name in Romanian, unprotected sex, creampie.

listening to. ‘Enslaved’ by Diva Destruction

notes. Y/L — Your Last Name, Y/F/N — Your Father’s Name, căprița mea mică — my little doe

A regular day in an abysmal castle.

Your ancestry were sworn servants of the Dimitrescu royals, and ensuing your father’s demise after leading a devoted life to the Lord, it was your turn.

You managed to avoid his acknowledge, as well as his sons’; something you thanked your stars for. You were still at a tender age; early twenties yet unexposed to the worldly works, courtesy of your conservative father. You loved the old man, despite him giving you constant reminders that your birth doomed him— how you should’ve been a son to continue his legacy, not a fragile, worthless woman. But those words only came out of his mouth like venom when he was made to overwork or worse— punished.

And like any other day you were dusting the halls. Except it wasn’t every other day you felt your skirt lift up fervently by two strong hands who also pinned you against the wall. An heir. Another, holding you down, while one tugged at your blouse. Alas, the Dimitrescu boys had found you.

“Well, well, the silhouette comes to life.” The one pining you spoke. He had a raspy voice with some baritone to it. “Sire, please leave me be—” you beseeched, but before you could even beg, you choked on your own words as your thong was pushed to the side. “She wants to leave, yet you roam about our land dressed like a whore.” This erupted demonic laughter from all three. “You thought we ought not to catch on?” The one below spoke, his face so close to your cunt, you felt heat radiate off of him with every syllable he dragged. “Your scent lingers— hauntingly— how we’ve chased after your ghost.” “But you were always too fast, little doe.”

“Always teasing us — where were you hiding this beauty? Hm?” One teased, his stone cold lips grazing your bare shoulder. “Moreover where had you been hiding this ass of yours?”

You jolted when a harsh slap landed on your ass, your not-so-subtle moan eliciting evil laughter from the men harassing you.

The one gripping your ass began to spread it, you writhed like a worm in their vice-like embrace, begging and praying for the abuse to be over; in a way it was.

The minute you felt something stroke your folds, prodding at your entrance, a demonic thunder struck. “What do you have here, boys?” They froze, as did you. This is the most cooperation you four have shown, as if unsaid, yet understood that if you hold your breath and close your eyes, the Lord can’t hurt you.

But slowly, as if puppies caught creating chaos by their master, did the boys move away from you. Bright yellow eyes ablaze in the monotonous dark of his castle. His eyes darted from your glassy eyes staring at him, the fear in them, to your rosy cheeks, blood-red lips, and straight to your skirt; your ass was out since a Dimitrescu brother hiked it up, the same heir, on realising what his father’s hungry eyes were doting upon, made a feeble attempt to fix your skirt, but before his fingers, barely tainted with your slick wetness, could touch the fabric of your skirt, let alone fix it, his father ordered. “Don’t you dare lay hands on her, more than you have already.” The Lord spoke with utmost calmness, and that’s what terrified the four of you, you especially, the most.

Reluctantly but obediently they stepped away from you. You were still clinging to the wall, frozen in place. “Come on over,” You saw his gloved hand motion towards him, “My chambers need cleaning.” An ominously mischievous tone and provocative smirk tugged at his lips.

The walk to the Lord’s chambers was awkward and fearful. He had insisted you walked in front of him, and you could feel eyes ripping through your flesh, your predator ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

You were making feeble steps towards his chambers, almost there, when he interrupted you, “Halt,” he said, causing you to stop dead in your tracks, but you dare not look back at him. “Clean my study firstly.” He ordered, and waited by the door for you to turn around.

Once you turned, you were met by calculating amber eyes that peered down at you from a head held high. He stood by the doorframe, and on seeing you make weak, yet progressive steps towards him, his thunderous strides entered the chamber. He was seated on a leather chair by the time you entered, as if he’d been there the entire time. ‘Gator skin,’ you heard a rumour the one time you cleaned the Lord’s study before. ‘He tore it apart with his bare hands, and had it skinned into a chair as a trophy.’ You hadn’t believed the chamberlain until you’d seen it yourself.

On the left of it was an ablaze fireplace, and in front, was a library; not colossal, yet extreme in number. Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display.

“Do you fancy reading?” You almost jumped when his ravenous voice broke the eerie silence you were just growing accustomed to. “Yes, my Lord.” You seemed to pique his interest when he hummed after a short pause, surprised within yourself at the sudden confidence. It was clear, you preferred the father’s company to his sons’. Perhaps, you felt safe knowing he is the leash on his sons— the fear of your fears.

“Well, if your cleaning is satisfactory, perhaps… I’ll let you take some.” the Lord proposed, but somehow you knew this reward wasn’t for cleaning but something else he wanted to deem satisfactory.

You dare not utter another word and got to cleaning.

Dusting away, between books, underneath books; wiping away at the large mirror by the shelves. “What do they call you?” He asked with authority.

“Y/N Y/L, my Lord,” you hesitantly revealed. “Y/L!” He exclaimed, “You’re Y/F/N Y/L’s daughter,” he concluded in a wicked tone. With each wipe, he grew closer and closer and the horrid smile on his face grew wider and more sinister, forcing you to look back at him at a neck-snapping speed, only to catch him, still seated, gazing at you innocently.

“Mop the floors,” he requested, before adding “Maid.” As if asking your revelation of your identity fell on deaf ears that never demanded it. Without muttering, you dampen the mop and began cleaning.

This was just cruel.

You thought your saviour actually required your services, yet the man had you in the same position as his sons, except voluntarily, for you had to bend on all fours and stretch not to miss a spot, after all you were cleaning your master’s land, at his request. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ you sighed, only daring to think of it.

You heard fervent movement behind you, and the next thing you feel is your thong being pulled down till your ankles. It happened all too fast, you barely registered anything until his large hands spread you open to him. “They were right about you,” He spoke, intrigued, “Such exemplary beauty, căprița mea mică. Utterly pristine.”

Noticing your haltered movements, he quirked a brow. “Did I permit you to stop?” You choked a gasp, feeling his left hand trace your curves, making its way to squeeze your throat, while his right hand fiddled with your glistening folds. “No sir,” you breathed a sigh at the pleasure he was making you feel. “Fucking continue then.” He ordered and you did.

Maybe not a regular day in an abysmal castle. Your 9’6 Lord and Master, the fearsome and notorious, the head of the dreaded Dimitrescu family, Lord Dimitrescu himself, kneeling behind you while you wipe his floors, fingers stroking your lips, not yet penetrating, just— “Oh!” You moaned when a long, thick, wet something slithered about your pussy. Prodding at the places his very fingers grazed, now wiggling inside you.

You began panting, about to look back and begin your pleads when a strong hand grabbed your skull and forced it in place.

You were terrified; just a bit more coaxing and he could crack open your skull. You were less than half his size and half his age. What was more frightening to you was that it was just the tip of his tongue inside you. Your eyes rolled back and damn-near saw your brain as he began pushing more of it in.

Still, obediently, you wiped.

This pleased the Lord as he wrapped an arm over your waist to your legs and brought his thumb to your clit. The circular motions of figure-eights on your clit were frantic, causing an excruciating jolt of pleasure to run down your lower half, his anomaly of a tongue amplifying the feel.

You bit you lip, nearly drawing blood as the knot in your core grew unbearable. Feeling you clench around his tongue, Lord Dimitrescu replaced the oral attack with two of his fingers, stretching you so bittersweetly. The assault on your cunt was aching. He’d graze your g-spot oh-so-softly, slowly driving you to the edge yet deliberately prolonging the high tide. “You are making a mess, căprița mea mică,” he sighed, eyeing the slick dripping down your thighs, drenching you in all, and the wooden floor beneath you. “Allow me to help.” It was more imperative than offering, so it was but natural you grimaced in pain when he pulled out his fingers, moments before you were coming undone, only to spread your aching hole and spit into it.

You moaned; shamelessly, you let out a filthy, degraded moan, and the sound travelled straight to the Lord’s cock. “There, there,” he rubbed his spit on your folds, your swollen clit bathed in it, “All better — nice and clean.” He chuckled, causing goosebumps to arise on your spine and your breath to get caught in your throat when he shoved not two but three fingers smoothly into your weeping cunt.

You clenched at the sudden attack, bewildered at how easily you were being made to cum for your master yet again. He rose from his position to whisper in your ear, “Hits the spot, doesn’t it?” At that moment, he had you unravelling with a curl on his fingers inside you.

You screaming a string of curses, the Lord greatly amused by your sailor’s tongue.

He stood up, without a word or move. “Clean the mess you made.” He gestured down at your juices that he flowed out of your cunt. “And while you’re down there…” He unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock that sprang free, a demonic thing, it was; certainly, not pleasurable to accommodate inside, unless…

“Don’t be afraid, maid.” His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring.

“It can’t hurt you, unless I want it to.” His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you. You wavered off the uneasiness, still eager to please your master. Grabbing his colossal cock, you began to work out the large vein on the underside of it. He hissed when you applied pressure, using both your hands in an attempt to hold it; in vain it went. You licked the tip, before slowly taking it in your mouth.

“That’s it. Show me you’re an all-rounder, maid; not just for wiping floors, show me that’s not all you can do bent over.” He chuckled, something so sinister about how his own vulgarity was so amusing to him. However, you weren’t opposed to it. After all, orders were orders; that’s one thing your father did teach you, if ordered directly, orders are orders, even if they’re fatal.

You gagged on less-than half the length, but your quick save by jacking off the inches unabsorbed by your mouth was much appreciated by the man above you. His large palm resting atop your head, slowly caressing your messed up hair into place. The gesture nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

“You take it like it was made for you.” He cooed. You couldn’t help but put your guard down, making it unknowingly advantageous to the Lord who grabbed the same head he was caressing, as support to fuck your throat. He only chuckled at the stream of years flowing through your glassy eyes. Your flushed face tainted with tears was now red with lack of oxygen. His cock was slamming past your uvula; the bell tolls, as if he were morally obligated to.

“So young, yet you suck cock like you’ve been a whore all your life.” He chuckled to himself, before thrusting in deeply, and cumming inside your mouth. You swallowed his ichor without being told, when you stuck out your tongue to show him, he groaned, face contorted in some form of arousal, as he lifted your frame to his, kissing you with neediness. His lips were surprisingly tender, beard teasing your face while his tongue, one that swept your insides clean, forced entry into your mouth, which you hesitantly permitted.

“Dust by the fireplace, better get to it.” He said, pulling away from you. You grabbed the supplies and moved towards the said place. You hadn’t noticed when the flames became blazing, a conflagration, either way, you dipped the mop in the bucket beside you, and began wiping.

You couldn’t get much done, however, for from underneath your skirt, you felt something big prod your entrance. Rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, Lord Dimitrescu positioned himself behind you, before shoving the whole of it in. You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure. “My…-my Lord!” You moaned, trying to form an actual sentence, “This is highly inap…-inappropriate!” You managed to muster. “Really now?” He questioned, you don’t know if it was a scoff or a laugh following his amused tone. “Who,” he paused, pushing you forward. You were now a stone’s throw away from the fire, every thrust into you pulled you back, which, despite the burn of the stretch, made you grateful for you were pulled back from the fireplace. “Do you think,” he continued, thrusting into you harder each time; the heat of the fire threatening to melt you whole, grazing your face, delicately. “You are.” He finished, slamming into you so hard, you began to cum, but before you could unravel before him, he pulled out, causing your pussy to spasm around the eerie nothingness of the room.

You were reduced to a whining mess, no words coming out of your abused mouth. “What’s the matter, maid? You want to cum?” he questioned, gripping your curvy hips. “Even when you’ve missed a spot?” One of his arms snaked on your waist, the other roamed about your spine, laying you down, before pulling your head up by your hair.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” he groaned, cock pressing against your slit, it’s new home, yet not in. He grabbed the bucket of freshwater besides you, pouring it all on the floor. “Let’s get that spot, shall we?” He said, before doing something so degrading, you felt disgusted in your own skin for enjoying.

Your hot body was used to wipe the floors of Lord Dimitrescu’s study. Ripping your blouse into shreds, he groped your breasts that had sprang free, before positioning your chest on the wet floor, and swaying you left to right.

This man, your ancestry’s master, was balls deep inside your abused pussy, fucking away the life in you, while using your tits as a mop. You moaned as your burning skin made contact with the icy puddle. “That’s how you wipe, căprița mea mică, so much better.” He grunted, the pace, the size, the girth, the sheer brutality of his sex was like a punch to the gut, nonetheless your poor cunt made feeble attempts to get accustomed to the ongoing torture. Your cunt clenched around his cock while your breasts swayed from side to side, the carpet had soupçons of water, courtesy of the fervency with which you “wiped”, which it soaked up instantly.

“My Lord, I’m going to- oh!” You yelped when he pulled out, shoving his fingers inside you and curling them. You hadn’t anticipated this, body reacting on sheer adrenaline junk that’s been coaxed out of you since the incident with this man’s sons in the halls of his castle.

Then, as fate would have it, mocking your misery, you squirted all over the floor. The juices gushing out your cunt, drowning the man that coaxed them out. He giggled, like a fucking teenager, while you fought for consciousness. Sure, you’d had sex before, he was a chef in this very place who mysteriously disappeared, but a man Lord Dimitrescu’s size? You had never held your head high around the family, avoiding their gaze like a thief, and now he’s fucking you like a stinging reminder of why you should’ve stayed in the shadows— remained a silhouette.

You were sore from the previous two orgasms, yet the man made it look easy to coax your third. The hostility your cunt displaying, clenching around the wanted, yet unmanageable penetration, was enough to unravel Lord Dimitrescu, you following with pornographic screams.

His grip on your hip and scalp was tormenting, but it soon loosened when he pumped into you one last time, pussy milked dry, filled with his overflowing load. He exhaled sharply, pulling up your panties, tapping your ass lightly. “You have been amazing — definitely considering promoting you.” He seemed very proud of his joke. Leaning down to catch your ear where you’d nearly passed out on the ground, he whispered in your ear. “Now, clean up.”

He left a moment after, stopping at the doorway to catch a glimpse of your sexy, worn out body. “My room’s next.” He said, leaving you alone with a shit load of mess to clean.

Your mess.

main masterlist. more from “resident evil: village”.