I wish you a good day. Can you write Alucard with a s/o who likes to bite him (gently, it's hardly a bite) at the neck and it's something very private and a sensitive part of himself . He really likes it too, but keeps it between them.
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kinktober: biting
Teeth at his throat.
Sharp. Enticing. Dangerous.
Alucard’s pulse quickened as he felt the graze of canines at his skin. The feel of it anchored beneath their teeth. His life blood just there under his thin flesh.
The hesitation is enough to make Alucard ache. The agony and ecstasy of that final snap just hanging there in the balance. But he dare not ask.
Finally, their bite lands. Soft and careful, but still sharp. Alucard flinched at the sudden rush of pain but then relaxed as the pleasure came over him. A small bite. Not even a feeding one. Just a little nip for play as they liked to bite him, and conveniently enough Alucard liked to be bitten.
At least now. At least by them.
His partner pulled back with a mischievous grin. Those bright pearls that had been just his throat now glinting at him in the candlelight. “You minx.” Alucard snapped at them. Faux irritation. Playful as well.
His hand reached out to grab them by the back of the neck and pin them to the bed behind him. His long hair making a curtain around their face to make their moment that much more private. “My turn then?” He asked, but was already moving in to his quarry.
Bouncing on TREVOR's dick while his big hands palm your tits is a religious experience. God made his hands just the right size to hold your tits perfectly. I bet he's not super gentle about it, he's probably a little rough tweaking your nipples and shit. He's tossing you backhanded praises through gritted teeth, head pressed deep into his pillows. He's not a quiet man either, he's grunting and giving you open mouthed moans.
Your hips sore, knees planted on either side of his waist. He's fucking your pussy swollen and sloppy. Trevor is in awe at how wet you are for him. You call him rude and stupid every day, but who's stupid now, huh? All cock drunk and wanton. He's got this glimmer and sparkle in his eye when you throw your head back, completely unabashed. The whole inn can hear you, sounding like a whore... but you're not. You're his and that's a fact that's almost better than the sex.
He'll fuck a load into you and then you'll cum and after you're gunna be curled up against his chest. All flushed and giggly and just... happy. Happy with him, happy with this life he's barely given you. He'll ask himself what he's doing and all he can think is I don't care.
⋆˚꩜｡ summary: carmilla collects fragments that remind her of you, fur from your tail, small personal items and arranges them meticulously in a hidden chamber. that is until her sick obsession takes a darker turn.
The castle was quieter than usual, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made your chest ache. Shadows clung to the stone walls, stretching and twisting with the flicker of torchlight, crawling like living things that waited for you to make a mistake. Every step you took spread unnaturally, bouncing back in distorted, menacing noises and the air felt thick, heavy, scented with candle wax, old stone, and something darker...metallic, sharp, alive.
Carmilla moved through the corridors like she was a shadow herself, silent, mysterious, her heels barely making a sound against the stone. Her eyes glinted in the torchlight, pale and cold, and the faintest curve of her lips made your skin shiver. “I’ve been thinking of you,” she said softly, almost to herself, but loud enough to make you freeze. “And I can’t help but gather every little piece of you I can find. It belongs with me.”
The door to a private chamber loomed ahead, its surface polished black, almost swallowing the torchlight. She paused, hand resting lightly on the handle, tilting her head as if listening to some whisper only she could hear. “Yes,” she murmured, a smile curling on her lips. “This is perfect. Just you and all the pieces of yourself you leave behind… finally here, where they should be.”
The room beyond the door smelled faintly of both lavender and iron, warm and suffocating all at once. Shelves and cabinets lined the walls, and on them, every scrap of you she had collected lay arranged like trophies. Fur from your tail, trinkets you thought lost, ribbons, even a few scraps of clothing, everything was displayed with exacting precision, the care in her arrangement almost gentle, if not for the obsession behind it.
Your stomach dropped, a scream caught in your throat as you realized the truth. There you were, bound and struggling, heart hammering in terror, facing the altar she had made from pieces of you. Carmilla stepped forward, smooth, composed, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as she circled you. “There you are, my little one,” she purred, voice soft and dangerous. “Every bit of you… mine. And I just want to show you how much I love you.” Her smile widened, cruel and perfect, as the ropes cut into your wrists.
Carmilla leaned closer, letting her fingers ghost over your bound form, tracing your jaw, your tail, your wrists, as if claiming each inch personally. Her eyes blazed with fury, not at you directly, but at you for choosing that wretched Countess Evory Bathory over her. “How dare you?” she hissed, teeth flashing behind her perfect smile. “After everything… you chose her? That skank over me?”
Her hands tightened, pressing you closer to the altar of your own things. “Do you see this?” she growled, voice low, trembling with a mix of rage and obsession. “Every scrap of you I’ve collected, every little thing that belongs to me… and you throw it away for her? You chose her instead of me?” She leaned in, hot breath brushing your ear. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
You whimpered, heart hammering, body pressed against the ropes, overwhelmed by both terror and guilt. Carmilla’s fingers raked lightly through your hair, tugging ever so slightly, and the tight space seemed to shrink around you. “I should burn her alive for this,” she muttered, voice sharp and low. “But no… it’s you I’ll punish. You, who dared to take her over me. You, who betrayed me.”
Her gaze swept the altar, lingering on every piece of your tail fur, every ribbon, every personal item she had so carefully collected. “Do you understand, my little kitten?” she demanded, voice trembling with both hurt and mania. “I will make you regret ever looking at her. I will make you see who truly owns you. And that… that is me.”
You shivered, trying to shrink into yourself, the walls pressing closer as if they too understood her obsession. Carmilla crouched slightly above you, her presence overwhelming, suffocating, unrelenting. “You are mine,” she whispered, voice low, rough, and unhinged. “Every day, every moment… I will show you, in every possible way, that no one, not even her, can have you. Not ever. Do you hear me, my little brat?”
The ropes bit into your wrists as Carmilla’s hand snapped forward and you shut your eyes tightly, her fingers wrapping around your throat with terrifying precision. Her claws grazed the leather of your collar, the one Evory had given you, and her lip curled like she’d touched filth. “This,” she spat, tugging it cruelly so it bit into your skin, “is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen on you. Her name...her name resting where mine should be? You’ve humiliated me.”
Her claw slid through the material with a slow, precise scrape. The sound of tearing leather cracked the air, and you flinched as the collar fell loose around your neck. Carmilla didn’t throw it aside; no, she held it up in the candlelight, sneering at it as though it were a rat. Then, with one flick, she sliced it in half, the broken pieces dangling from her claws. “Countess Bathory,” she mocked, voice full of venom and disgust. “What a big title for a cheap little whore who thinks she can steal what is mine. Pathetic.”
You tried to shrink back, but her hand was already at your jaw, nails pressing just enough to sting as she forced your face upward. Her other hand produced something cold, heavy: another collar, black leather lined with silver, polished to a perfection only Carmilla would demand. Your eyes widened when you saw the engraving: her name. Just her name. Sharp, bold letters carved deep into the metal plate like a brand.
“You don’t belong to her. You don’t even belong to yourself,” Carmilla said, her voice low and steady, too steady, the kind of steadiness that comes with madness that she could barely restrain. She held the new collar against your throat, pressing it there with cruel tenderness. “You belong to me, kitten. You’ve always belonged to me. I won’t let you forget it again.”
The clasp clicked shut finally, a sound louder than the creepy silence in the chamber. You trembled, choking on panic, but Carmilla only leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Now,” she whispered, almost lovingly, “when you look in the mirror and see my name at your throat, you’ll remember. Every second of every day, you’ll remember who owns you. Not Evory. Not anyone else. Only me.”
you know how you did bg3 types of yanderes, could you do that for castlevania? Like the trio and isaac, hector, dracula/lisa, carmilla, st. germain??
A/N: For reference, here is the one I did for BG3 villains, and here is the one I did for the BG3 Main Companions. Also, this is unedited as hell so if you see grammar mistakes, no you didn't.
Castlevania Characters as Yandere! Types:
Yandere! Trevor:
Defensive. Calucative. Hardened. Trevor’s seen far worse than you, from humans and monsters alike. He knows the terror and the cruelty that lurks out there. He wants to shield you from it all, for as long as possible. He has this overwhelming need to prevent what happened to his family from happening to you. Even then, he knows your innocence won’t last; it couldn’t possibly. So long as you’re tied to him, you will know hardship. So as much as he babies you, and refuses to grant you complete independence, he is also distant, and frequently unaffectionate. In his line of work, people don’t die of old age; neither of you will be in the other’s life forever. Just let him love you the way he needs, when he asks for it, please. Everything else is so difficult in his life, you don’t want to add to that. Make yourself into the one piece of his life that is easy. And enjoy the easy while it lasts.
Yandere! Sypha:
Confident. Feisty. Unyielding. Sypha is always sure of herself. Everything she does, she does with 100% effort and full intent- your relationship is no different. From the moment she sees you, she’s sure she likes you, and she’s certain you like her. Any behavior that suggests otherwise on your part must simply be beginning relationship nerves. After all, she is a scholar and a Speak Magician. Her infectious optimism seeps out of her every pore. Her love for you knows no bounds, and she will not hesitate to throw herself into danger to prove it. I mean, she can conjure fire and ice instantaneously in her own two hands! Who wouldn’t want to be her partner? Only some sort of complete and total asshole would try and turn her down, or worse, fight against her. She fights for what is right, and what is just. You wouldn’t fight against what’s just, would you?
Yandere! Alucard:
Intellectual. Sharp. Melancholic. Alucard is not a stranger to romance nor heartbreak. Losing the people closest to him has left him vulnerable, both emotionally and physically. Instead of processing his feelings, he bottles them up, until he can no longer bear their weight. He feels such pressure to remain composed, remain controlled, not animalistic, to go against the programming of half of his biology. At the same time, he is starving, desperate, and filled with an insatiable thirst for closeness. Such a complicated, disconsolate man, Alucard needs you to stay, more than anything. His life has been so lonely, and so hard; at times it feels like all he knows is loss and the cruel impossible whispers of desire. You need to stay. You need to choose him. He cannot take another heartbreak. It’s quite possible, given his role throughout history, that humanity wouldn’t survive another one of his heartbreaks either.
Yandere! Isaac:
Keen. Precise. Self-Righteous. Isaac has journeyed far on his quest for revenge, coming not only into a new land and new role but a new self as well. Gone is the former subservient, sacrificial lamb, who has risen into a stronger, wiser, seemingly benevolent king. Do not mistake this kindness for weakness, however. You must be either admirable or too kind-hearted to pose a genuine threat. Once you’ve caught his eye, prepare for an odd game of cat and mouse, you being the mouse of course. Isaac is not used to having friends, much less romantic companions. You must be patient as he learns the intricacies of your psyche. Surely, you must know he’s been analyzing it since you met? Be an honest, positive presence in his life, and he will keep you safe from all others who may do you harm. Treat him as the wise king he now sees himself as, and perhaps, he will ask you to be his queen.
Yandere! Hector:
Reclusive. Embittered. Suspicious. Hector has been forced to toughen up. Too late did he realize at the end of the road, that it is the people, not the zombies you command that can make or break a man. That is where you come in my dear. Following Lenore’s death, Hector’s purpose is up in the air, he is suddenly a puppet, free of its strings. He feels much wiser, but just as lonely. Hector cannot help but latch on to you, the first “normal” person to view him as human. He yearns for a simple quiet life, with a dog (a live one) and a partner to call his own. You’re perfectly plain, or perhaps, you’re just odd enough to make him look normal, and he relishes that. You have to understand that he can’t share much about his past. He can’t possibly tell you about his old life, no, no, no. He’s hiding it from you, hells, he’s hiding from it with you. He loves you dearly, he does. But he can’t trust you, not fully. A man with a history like his cannot truly trust anyone.
Yandere! Dracula/Lisa:
Nurturing. Captivated. Smothering. Dracula was not keen on humans before meeting Lisa; she bewitched him body and soul. And now the two of them have become enthralled by you. Dracula has learned the ‘other’ humans are not to be trusted, not with you, and certainly not with his wife. Lisa finds it unfortunate how she is no longer able to treat her former patients in Lupu, but she’s also incredibly thankful now that she has you to take care of! Ever the eager student, she still wants to learn so many things, and how wonderful of a practice dummy you are. Dracula is also eternally grateful that his wife will not be completely lonely; he knows how much helping her fellow humans means to her, and now that you’re here, Dracula no longer has to worry about keeping his wife (and by extension, you) to himself for eternity.
Yandere! Carmilla:
Prepared. Calculating. Cruel. Carmilla is a sadist at heart, there’s no denying it. She loves feeling the power she wields over all other people, humans, and vampires alike. For you to have caught her attention, surely you must be something special. Either you are particularly gifted in something she’s not (negotiations, necromancy, art, etc.) or you’re just so unbelievably precious, that she can’t help but want to steal you away for herself. She sees you as a possession, as a rare and beautiful gem, not a person. Even if she did ‘hear’ anything you had to say, she’d simply consider it further fodder to be used in manipulating you should it all come to that. She is not a woman who is denied, not by God, not by man, not by Dracula, and certainly not by you. Chin up, pet. Things could always be much worse. You could be thrown in the dungeons and left to rot. How lovely of Carmilla to instead treat you to more luxury than your kind could ever dare to deserve. For your continued safety, may I suggest showing a little gratitude? I mean it’s not like your life depends on it or anything. It does.
Yandere! St. Germain:
Wise. Inquisitive. Obsessive. St. Germain is a man who knows his mind. He knows a great deal about alchemy, and that alchemy, at the end of his days, will be his greatest work. That was of course, all before he met you. You opened up a whole side of him that he didn't know existed. Before you, his conquest was kings and courts; his acquaintances were mages and scholars! But now, in his effort to keep you from himself, you have become his conquest; his acquaintances are vampires and demons, all practitioners of dark magic. To him, it’s of little matter, so long as he can secure you, his one true love. To him, it’s the most important to have someone to share all his knowledge with, all that he’s achieved. To bask in the victory alone does not hold the same merit. He needs you at his side, he needs you to be invested in the great work. Without you, without your love, he fears he cannot achieve it. As such, he will do whatever it takes to get you by his side. And I do mean- whatever- it takes.
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⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆DROLTA TZUENTES⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ | THE DEMONESS (CASTLEVANIA: NOCTURNE)
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❝INFERNAL MACHINE❞ (Drolta Tzuentes x Fem!Reader)
Drolta facilitates your transformation from human to night creature, no matter your horror.
SFW, angst, death, slight body horror, forced transformation, night creatures - night!creature!drolta
Short and (not so) sweet. (Pic source - Castlevania: Nocturne; “A Living Legend” S2EP1)
700+ words
That final blessed, cursed darkness meets you one night whilst you’re walking the servant pathways to your quarters for the evening.
A little tune plays with a hum in your throat, tired limbs trudging you along on aching feet. The need to slip into bed after such an exhausting day's work is horribly overwhelming.
Tiring enough an extra shadow slipping with your every move, slinking through the dark quarters hand in hand with you, doesn't catch your attention.
The French aristocrats and their sharp-toothed new companions require a fair amount of things and none of them sat well with your spirit.
Work was hard to find, however, and food to spare even harder. So you’d be at these vampires and their vampire “messiah’s” beck and call, but it was purely out of necessity.
That unknown presence settles behind you as you’re pushing open the door to your cot, raising the coiled hair at the base of your neck.
That night you meet your true and final demise at the hands of one of the few vampires at the Château to share your complexion. Are met with blossoming pain tearing into your neck and a delicate, deceptively strong hand holding your jaw in place while an arm restrains you.
“Delictable,” a voice finer than silk and as rich as cacao whispers, sending more shivers up your spine as you put up a useless struggle. The flat of a tongue presses over your rapidly pounding vein, eagerly tracing the trail of blood rushing from the wounds on your neck. “Finally someone ripe enough in the idiot Marquis’ underwhelming structure.”
Death is kindness when it comes to you.
That is until no afterlife meets you, until the darkness of the deceased begins to writhe, a living breathing thing around you and a foreign malevolence lashes through your spirit. Sinks inky tendrils into what’s left of you until you’re ripped back into the light.
Agony wails up your throat, wracking an unfamiliar body with tremors. Lighting your nerves on fire until arms that are familiar but shouldn’t be catch you when you fall from that devil’s machine, towering and hissing bouts of fire and pink flashes at your back.
“We meet again, Morcel,” silk intones, voice low and coiling in your ears.
A sob falls past dark lips you do not recognize any longer, your body that feels too big and too crowded and too wrong is racked with shivers.
Claws nip at your cheeks that no longer thrum with life, plush lips press to your overheated skin.
“Glorious,” Drolta murmurs, pulling away from the kiss planted on your forehead as your own foreign appendages twitch clumsily around you.
Humanity slips from you with every new, impure breath you take. Drolta’s siren song lulls you with its familiarity despite the dredges of who you used to be rioting against the string cut feeling that has you falling into her hold.
The demoness catches you, made anew herself with sprawling wings and sharp metal-tipped hair. Locs that writhe against you as she pulls you in.
Those same lips from before press to a pulse that no longer thrums with life.
“Look at you,” Drolta murmurs, hands gliding over the monstrosity that has become you with careful metal talons and the give of the pads of her fingers. The clack of hooves reverberates around the corridor you’re trapped in as she moves, pulling you closer. Steel cages close in all around you, and the fleshy press of her colorful wings curving around your body is little reprieve.
When her eyes meet your still adjusting ones they’re a blazing fushia, her once goddessesque features intact, but contorted into a vampiric abomination.
She coos down at you, physically tilts your head around for her inspection. The grin she gives you is sharp-toothed and mean, eyes going lidded. “What a glorious and beautiful thing,” she says to you, silk a cutting damnation.
Grand, onyx horns stretch from her temples. Crowning her head whilst she looms and chuckles and grabs you like she has a right.
“Come,” she murmurs, a large hand catching the tail that’s since sprouted from your body and tugging. It wiggles in her unrelenting grasp, you gasp at the strange sensation, and she remains unphased as she uses it to drag you along. "You will make a fine pet yet, Sweet Morcel.”
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
The way every single Drolta form makes me lose my mind! She’s so great as an antagonist and she’s so pretttty, I need to rewatch the show after this.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!
May I please request Vlad Tepes with a shy and sweet wife! reader who has social anxiety, and clings to his arms, and talks quietly when guests are around?
sorry if that's too specific!
Dracula x Shy!Reader
Your shyness was endearing to him.
It wasn't like that at first, but behind that shyness there was someone only he knew. His own little treasure.
When out and about he tended to talk first, but sometimes you think he's being unnecessarily harsh with the local humans, so you step up. Stammering your way around.
He feels a little bit bad for putting you on that spot. Humans can be annoying to him.
But be patient, he's trying.
It's not often Dracula has many vampires around, but it happens.
And in those moments you attempt to make yourself unseen, as small as you possibly can.
They all intimidate you.
Just once a vampire dared to be rude about your behavior, Dracula did not like that.
Let's just say it never happened again.
You may he shy, but you'll make your opinions known to hum.
Some vampires say you have him wrapped around his finger, never to his face of course.
When he grabs your neck while drilling in you from behind. Curving you into a messy kiss. For a moment he releases his tight grip on your hips and softens his thrust the slightest bit. He deepens the kiss wrestling your tongue with his as he moves his hands to massage your breasts. You were overstimulated, no longer able to kiss him back you open your mouth for him and he growls moving one hand to choke you as the other fixates on your nipples. He’s giving his all to you and you receive it gratefully. It’s not usual for him to treat you with so much attention, so much neediness. You watched him with Fuck drunk eyes as his were closed intensely, his brow furrowed so deeply it looked as if he were scowling. His mouth rabid and unfocused against yours while plunging in you from behind. The slightest glimpse of a moan escapes him before reeling himself back in. To not lose to you in a battle only he had in his mind, he pulled you away by the hair pushing you into the mattress. He was never incredibly gentle with you but you felt as if this time he had to remind himself to remain dominant. Since you’d been under his care (kinda held hostage) he eased you into the idea of him ravishing you with sexual flirtations and promised that succumbing to him wouldn’t be all that bad. He enjoyed toying with you gradually increasing physical intimacy until you were a crumbling mess fighting against the pleasure escaping your throat as his fingers explored your warm hole. He took extra pleasure in making you fall for him and would never admit his amusement was laced in a desire to genuinely keep you.
As he continued to thrust into you he raised one leg up firmly planting it on the bed creating a deep impression that showed all he had to hold back when dealing with you. He knew his world crushing strength and unlike what anyone would think, took consideration of its usage. Yet, there were times like now as he’s almost struggling to pull out given the hot squeeze of your walls on his dick. He knew he was nearing his edge, having made you cum 3 times already. This last go round was for him. Your face and body blush, shivering as you hear him grunting ever so quietly. It turned you on to no end and began, with what little you had to give, throwing your ass back to meet his thrusts in a loud slick clapping. His moans grew louder as he quickly apprehended your arms holding them behind your back. This image of submission almost made him lose it. His thrust became punishing and you gave up just allowing him to slide you mercilessly up and down his dick. He forgot himself completely. “Ah- you’re so obedient Y/N.” You moan in wanting more praise. Knowing that you’ve grown fond of that he continues, “Mmm my little captured one.” His pace almost brutal as your eyes are falling to the back of your head and drool has slipped out of your mouth onto the bed and your torso.
You can feel how he spreads you with every hit to your core. His pace was becoming sloppier and you knew he was about to cum and fill you as much as he could. He grabs at your hair again pulling back up into a kiss. Your belly tightens and in an instance you push yourself flush on his dick cumming so hard your entire body shakes. His pace has stopped and still holding you by the hair he chuckles and without a word shoots his load into you. He watched you with a certain amusement as he feels his own fluid coating your walls and him. He pumps into you about four times. You were his official cum bucket and he wouldn’t admit how much he loved watching it leak out of you. He kisses you again, more than ever before especially during sex. But he’s still himself as he pulls out with no regard, a loud suction-esque sound that sends a shiver of pain through you. You were spent of all energy barely able to keep your eyes open hanging helplessly onto him. He brushed a finger over your forehead lightly, again amused at how easy for him it is to forget humans are fragile and weak. Not when you take him like a demon yourself. While he has the mind to fill you up some more he decided wearing you out too bad would mean a longer recovery time later. Although called many things in that respect he couldn’t be that cruel, not to you. It is only ever worth while when you practically are begging on hands and knees for him to fuck you. But your tear stricken, snot nosed, drooled covered face, the red marks on you of him forgetting himself too many times, and the sleep (by the deep rise and cave of your chest) meant it was much needed. Much deserved. He relaxed into a position where you were cradled in his lap and watched you thinking over all the presents and gifts he would collect for you. Or whether you’d need a slave assistant. Or the heart of your enemies. And you relaxed into his embrace easily unaware of your capter’s growing obsession and dire need to keep you all to himself.
Who: Sukuna, Madara, Dracula, Alucard (Hellsing), Sephiroth, Aizen, Kenpachi + any other mean fucks
