#nosferatu fic

[lady-jane3]

Hello, hope your having a very fine day!

But I was wondering if you could do a hc of atj characters as boy dads?

I'm dead at this one 💀 I really tend to only write girl dads that's so crazy of me I'm sorry (also these are all x fem!reader)

⊰ alexei vronsky ⊱

oh he's such a happy father, his family is the most important & joyful part of his life - he celebrates each child he's blessed with

alexei also can't stop worshipping his wife for blessing him with this family, for being her lovely self, & for making him feel so loved

his young son is absolutely required to spend time with him in the stables & take care of the horses, just bc he hopes his son shares his passion later

as an emotional intelligent & empathetic man himself, alexei tries to develop the same qualities in his son - especially as the oldest

so he has to stand up for his siblings, help them learn things that he's learned, & be there for them if they have troubles amongst each other

.....well troubles that they dont want to tell the parents about & need some guidance with

the boy also gets a very realistic play-sword & officer's uniform crafted specially for him by the palace's staff

the other cavalrymen love playing around with alexei's son, showing off their riding skills or swordsmanship or whatever else officers do

alexei loves to carry his kids around in his arms or on his shoulders, holding them makes his heart swell so much

he does struggle to say no to any of their requests bc he just wants them to be happy, but he supports everything his wife says

⊰ friedrich harding ⊱

i mean we've seen what he's like with his girls, he wouldn't be too too different with his son

he's overjoyed about "little friedrich" but he's not actually planning on naming his son after himself, it's just a temporary nickname

his son is doted on by his sisters & he loves to spend time with all the children, playing while his wife gets some rest

friedrich is still all over his wife btw, just whenever the nursemaid is keeping things under control in the nursery

his favorite way to spend time with his son is pretending they're pirates while on the company's merchant ships, the girls playing as pirates or mermaids

when his son is old enough for tutoring, friedrich personally teaches his son etiquette as extra time spent together & also to set an example

he also makes sure his son knows how to dress himself properly, all the finest things to look like a very refined gentleman

the business he heads is entitled to his son in the will bc of his interest in the ships, but friedrich won't force it upon him if he changes his mind

encourages his son to marry a smart young lady who makes him feel supported & loved, like his parents' marriage (he's wary of men for his daughters though)

also lets his son try his cigars & scotch when he asks for them (at age 13) just to see if he already has a taste for them (it's 1830, booze is cleaner than water)

⊰ pietro maximoff ⊱

pietro is the classic fun dad in the most positive light, he is a lover boy towards his wife & respects her wishes

he's wanted to be a dad for a long time, just had to wait until he found his match & had a stable living situation ready for kids

not that he actually had a preference, but when he finds out they're going to have a son, pietro is over the moon

he's super involved in the process of choosing things bc he was a little boy once & as the father he would know what his son would like best

later when they have a daughter on the way, pietro is still just as involved but tends to let his wife have the final say

teaches his son to be an absolute gentleman to his mama & his auntie wanda

then to also be a gentleman to his siblings, especially his sisters, bc he's the oldest & his responsibility is to help the others

he also makes sure his kids know where they're from so they speak sokovian, they celebrate traditions, & he makes sokovian foods sometimes

...or pietro buys a bunch of candies & snacks from his home country by zooming over there rq

as unserious as he can be, he does have that eastern european insistence that his kids study well & have solid professions

⊰ sergei kravinoff ⊱

you think he's vicious now? imagine it 100x worse at anyone who looks at his wife the wrong way especially when she's pregnant

he's a very openly affectionate man generally with people he loves but he is glued to his wife & obsessed with her now that they're having a kid

like a literal animal guarding her 24/7, holding her, giving her belly attention, etc

they stay in London for a while for the medical care & for his wife to recover then they're back to the wilderness

sergei has a very different way of teaching his son to be a man than his father did

like exactly the opposite - he wants his son to be a good person & to be strong as needed, not be actively aggressive just bc he can

a lot of the same lessons are taught to his other children bc he wants them all to be good people more than anything else

he does teach his son some knife skills when he's old enough along with how to be a chivalrous gentleman to his mother & sisters

if he even hears the lightest trace of red pill rhetoric from his son's mouth Sergei is LIVID

generally speaking he's a very good father, treats all his children fairly, & teaches them the ways of the world (natural & human)

⊰ tangerine ⊱

oh he's equally elated & terrified when his wife gives him the big news

elated first, then the fear sinks in when she goes to call her loved ones in the other room bc he never had a father figure what's he gonna do!!!

after the initial shock, tangerine gets it together - he's everywhere his wife is to make sure she's safe & prepares his work to be on pause for a while

immediately adds a new pet name for his wife to the repertoire, so now she's also "mummy"

loves baby shopping with his wife & insists he has to be there bc he was a boy once, he knows what his son would like

we know he's a yapper & he likes to yap at his wife's belly bc it's a captive audience situation

will whisk his wife away to anywhere she wants to be for the birth & the stay afterwards as a kind of vacation/push present

has to retire his suits for a bit bc he is a very active father & babies are messy

he feels guilty when he gets back to work & has to leave her with a toddler, but he takes on shorter duration jobs so he isn't away for too long

tangerine wants more kids to stay home even more with his family & also they're so goddamn cute - their parents' genetics are just incredible

⊰ tom ryder ⊱

he cleans up his act as soon as his gf tells him that she's expecting his baby it's a struggle but he manages to do it before his son is born

tom also gets her an engagement ring after the first obgyn appointment he joins her at bc he's overwhelmed with love

once his son is born, tom takes a break from all the paparazzi & attention to be a stay at home dad

he doesn't want to miss a single big moment!!! this is his baby & it brings out a completely different side of him

while his mom is out, tom tries teaching him to say "daddy" as his first word ofc

but he does still take a lot of social media videos & photos of his son... of him being a cute dad... tagging it with "dilf"

tom is absolutely the fun dad who takes his kid to disneyland instead of making him sit through tutoring until his wife reins him in a little

oh!! he also brings his son to work with him sometimes, plopped on his lap while he's in the makeup chair

the usual nickname tom calls his son is his little star or little heartthrob or something like that

...mostly bc tom is convince his son is the handsomest boy on earth & is on track to follow in his dad's footsteps ♡

[qvrcll]

nsfw + afab r. ❀ thomas h.

just thinking out loud here about one last night of passion with thomas hutter and how utterly sweet, how overwhelming it would be. there is no pretence in how he almost, no definitely, worships you. he is far from pious, but kneels like a man at the foot of god by your bed side. he is so impossibly pale, so warm and shivering slightly, whilst knelt between your legs. his hands dig into your sides, as if you were made to be held by him. he’d kiss your hip, a noticeable blush forming at his nape when he can see your body beneath the fabric. can see your plush thighs, the whiter edge of your undergarments, the way you glow in the flickering candlelight.

he’d apologise, though it was not his fault, for having to leave. some business about a count, and his estate, and how he hopes it’s not as harrowing as his boss has made him to believe it is. but he is distracted. by you. your presence. how can you blame him? he is besotted with you. when you cup his cheeks, reassure him, he turns his face so he can better kiss the inside of your palm. his kisses don’t stop there. they trail up to your wrist, almost sucking at the skin. he would leave a mark if he wasn’t mapping your entire body so fervently and in such little time. in seconds, he crawls to you with both hands and feet, caging you completely. his body is broad, broader than yours. and his face is twisted in agony, in need. he is so desperate that he should be ashamed, but he isn’t.

“i do not know how long i can keep away from you,” he’ll mouth against your neck, trailing hot kisses against the thundering pulse there, “this trip will test me. i know it will.”

his hands will wander underneath your shift, broad, calloused and strong, spreading apart your thighs for room or massaging your hip, or sliding downward to grab your calf so he could better adjust between your legs. he’d be such a mess, not stuttering - not yet, atleast, there’d be more of that soon enough - but begging with his eyes alone. he would roll his hips into your own, chasing for friction, finding the restriction of clothing a blessing and a curse.

if you even begin to seduce him in the way that always sets him off like a habit, maybe a fluttering of your lashes or some begging or even the mere act of being so breathless, teary eyed and chasing his hips with your own, he would hold back no longer. he near pops the button off his dress shirt from yanking it off, revealing toned, pale muscle. his hands would feel up your sides, his lips too busy kissing your own till they bruised as his hands push up your shift, revealing your body to him. your tummy, your perky nipples, your undergarments barely clinging on - and when he gets them off, you’re so unbelievably warm down there, that he actually flushes. he says unintentionally teasing little things, like “it is so warm, and my fingers… they disappear completely…” that only spur you on.

and he’d make love to you. he is a lover, not a fighter. he’d give into you so easily that you could barely call it a fight. he’d push into you, warm and wet walls clinging onto his cock like a vice. he’d stutter - there it was - his head dropping pathetically against your collarbone, his hot lips dragging against the column of your neck. he’d try so, so hard to keep it together, to last a while longer. but the way you clench down on him is only short of torture, the rest being sweet, sweet pleasure.

if you’re thinking of giving, he wouldn’t be opposed. as your husband, and contrary to conventions of the time, your pleasure would be above anything else. his pleasure too, but he finds that in your sharp little gasps and the way your body writhes. his pleasure is yours. so he is a little surprised when you roll the both of you over, him pinned to the bed. a little disoriented, sure, and a bit conscious of what exactly you were getting at - but when he sees you almost hugging his hips, your cheek squished against his hip bone and so dangerously close to his hardened cock, his heart jumps.

maybe you let slip a “please – please, can i make you feel good too?” and he can barely breathe. his vision is swimmingly, and his cock twitches ever so slightly near your lips. his hand would come to tighten in your hair. not pulling nor pushing. just there. his voice would be so breathy, all guttural and raspy as he nods. he can’t hear the words but he is half sure that he responds with a yes, yes – please, my heart, please.

© 2024 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[otaku-girl-ao3-fics]

Yuletide | 600 | E | Friedrich Harding x Reader

Main Tumblr | AO3: Otaku_girl | Aaron Taylor Johnson character masterlist

Summary: Friedrich sneaks into your room to celebrate the night before Christmas. Chapter warnings: power imbalance A/N: Friedrich, my beloved ♥️ Links: Find all of my work (including this one) on AO3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I thought I told you not to move, darling.”

Broad hands roam across your skin, one pressing flat against your stomach, his warmth seeping through you. The other curls around your chest, neatly plucking at your nipples – first one, then the other. A high, desperate keen escapes from between your lips. Head hanging low, sweat trickles down the length of your back, dripping down onto the tangled sheets below. How long has he been doing this? It feels like an eternity.

“Just a little more,” Friedrich croons, hips slotting against yours, the warmth of him blanketing you, chasing away every chance of winter chill from the air as he slides into place, inch by inch, working his way inside. 

You should be wrapped up in your bed. You have a long day tomorrow, preparing for the festivities ahead. The Hardings are hosting again, a lavish affair. All hands are needed to ensure the celebrations go off without a hitch. And yet, how could you deny Friedrich as he crept into your room, intent on unwrapping his favourite gift of all?

“You take me so well, darling.” Lips paint your shoulders with kisses, brushing across the expanse from one side to the other. He pauses to nip at the delicate column of your throat, unthinking in the moment of what could happen if he leaves any marks behind. It matters little to him, you suppose, if one maid needs to be kept out of sight of the guests and Miss Anna. What is one maid, in the grand scheme of things?

Hips snap forward. Friedrich sinks that final inch inside, stealing your breath away, eyes fluttering closed. A hand tangles in your hair, forcing your head up. You meet your own gaze in the mirror positioned carefully at the end of the bed. Eyes darting this way then that, you don’t quite know where to look, embarrassment heating your cheeks and leaving you clenching around him.

“I thought I told you to watch,” Friedrich chides, pressing a biting kiss to the junction where neck and collar meet. He is a sight to behold like this; broad shoulders and pale alabaster skin, none of the usual meticulous layers of finery that separate him from the likes of you. He looks less regal, less refined than you are used to seeing him. He feels more real. Tangible. If you allow yourself to close your eyes, you can imagine, for the briefest of moments, that he is yours as much as you are his.

A hand curls loosely around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to remind you of where you are. Of what you should be doing. Of whom you should be obeying. Eyes flutter as you force yourself to focus, meeting his sharp-eyed gaze in the mirror once more.

“I see that we shall have to work on that. It is a good thing that we shall have more time, come the new year. Anna is taking the girls to visit family, and I must remain behind. I am sure that we shall have more time to ourselves then.” One hand curls around your hip, the other remaining looped loosely around your throat. You swallow hard, walls clenching around him reflexively as his words sink in. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Sir. That sounds… wonderful.”

A smile settles in place, wide and slick and pleased. Hips snap forward and a wave of pleasure washes over you again. You gasp. This time, you remember to keep your eyes locked firmly on the mirror. Friedrich hums in approval.

“There is my good girl.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[a-girl-with-writings]

SUMMARY — Ellen believes she’s poison. A monster. You? You’d burn the world, if it meant keeping her warm. PAIRING — Ellen Hutter x F!Reader (2nd person POV) WARNINGS — It’s Nosferatu. Sapphic longing in a time that doesn’t get it.  Not proofread. English isn't my first language. Let me know if i missed something. WC — 1,7k+ A/N —  My brain has been permanently altered since watching Nosferatu (2024). Ellen Hutter is everything to me, and I just love her so much. So obviously I had to write something for her. I was inspired by the song Vivica by Jack off Jill, more specifically the line: ‘She’s rotten and so beautiful’. I think it almost perfectly describes the way I feel about Ellen. Anyway... Remember to be kind, because i'm always nervous when it comes to posting stuff.

Each night you see her. You see a woman haunted by the shadows creeping along her skin. She stands by her window each night, gazing upon something only she can see. The cold wind pulls at her hair and nightgown, yet she seems unaffected by the freezing temperature. Perhaps her body doesn’t need the warmth, though her face seems in much need of it. 

Her name is Ellen, but she’s known mostly as the crazy lady. You don’t think of her as crazy, but rather tormented by the darkness that grips at her. 

While Ellen is known as the crazy lady, your own reputation isn’t much better, considering you are still at the age of 22 unwed.Your father isn’t pleased; he’s now gone so far as to look for suitors abroad. Even the French man who sat next to you tonight couldn’t impress you. His feeble attempts at initiating a conversation in your mother’s tongue pained you dearly. 

So now, you’re on your way home from another rather uneventful dinner with your parents, having left the French man at his borrowed quarters, hoping he found entertainment with the local whore, rather than attempt to seek you out. A couple of rats skitters by, yet you make no sound, knowing alerting anyone with a frightened squeal might cause you trouble. A young unmarried lady walking upon her lonesome self at the height of darkness, what a scandal. But the little creatures cause you to stop in your tracks, lifting your gaze to meet what you can only describe as an angel. Her hands rest against the railing, her body seeking towards the sky. Her eyes wide, and mouth agape. Your eyes go to where hers are, yet you only see the dark sky sprinkled with shimmering stars. It’s the tear trailing down her pale cheek that causes you to call her name.

“Ellen?”

You utter with a gentle tone, hoping to not cause her more distress. Your voice snaps her free from her horrifying trance, and her eyes snap to you, standing on the cobblestone street below. She swallows, terrified eyes trying to make sense of your presence. Her eyes go to the invisible being again, but she sees… nothing. You, then the creature, then you again.

“Are you okay, Ellen?”

You ask, worry strangling the chuckle that bubbles in your throat seeing her repeatedly glancing back and forth. 

“It’s late.”

She whispers, her eyes finally staying on you, perhaps in an attempt to ignore the darkness lingering by her shoulder. A soft smile breaks across your face, as you nod.

“Indeed it is. I was just making my way home now, some suitors can be unbearably persistent.”

You jest, hoping that it might ease the obvious worry painting her face. It does, at least a little, the corner of her lips quirking into a small smile. 

“Your father is still going strong with all that nonsense.”

She chuckles, hands slowly loosening their grip on the white marble fencing.

“Unfortunately, he is as stubborn as I.”

Her short lived smile sends sparks flying through your veins. Her pearly whites sparkle like a shooting star across the sky, it fades just as quick. 

“I am alone tonight.”

Ellen confesses, with a quivering lower lip. 

“And you do not wish to be?”

She shakes her head. 

In that moment she seems so small. It reminds you of the young Ellen. She was still plagued by an unknown darkness festering inside of her. During the day she’d follow you and Anna along, she’d listen intently to whatever words spilled from the governess, while you lounged with the cats. She’d don the mask of a normal woman. But at night, she wept. Tears would stream endlessly from her eyes, and she’d curl in on herself in an attempt to strangle her cries. But how could she? When death himself stood in the corner of her room simply admiring her trembling form. 

Her sobs didn’t go unnoticed. And one night you had awoken, and while you had attempted to return to dreamland, you never did. Instead you heard the stifled sobs coming from the room next to yours. You had cautiously risen to your feet, and treaded carefully towards her room. 

Opening the door you had found her, in a fetal position, shuddering beneath her white duvet. Every window stood wide open, sending the room into a freezing temperature. Even the gray kitten, Greta, found discomfort in the cold air, hiding beneath one of Ellen's worn dresses, hoping it might bring her some warmth. You had quickly rushed to close the windows, the click sound caused Ellen to peek up over the covers. The fear in her eyes had faltered slightly, seeing you pick up the tiny gray fur ball in your arms. 

That night was the first time of many nights where she had found comfort in your arms. You weren’t sure what she saw just beyond the shadows, but apparently the creature kept itself hidden in your presence. She sought your warmth as a shield, while for you it meant something much more… innocent. You always held love for Ellen, it simply surged when these late night meetings started. No man had made your heart beat quite like she did. Not even Friedrich Harding and his daringly handsome mustache did the trick. 

You fear she’s the reason for your ever lonesome love life. Though even with age, you still find yourself longing for her. Which is why it’s not surprising that you obviously obliged when she confessed her unwanted loneliness. 

Following her inside the mansion, you ignore the memorabilia of her marriage and husband, nodding as she timidly explains that Herr Hutter is off on yet another business venture. 

Entering the bedroom you’re greeted by an old friend in the now grown cat, Greta. She purrs beneath your fingertips, as they scratch between her ears. 

“I thought you said you were alone.”

The cat curls into your touch, your cold hand a stark contrast to her heated fur. You sit upon the edge of the bed, taking notice of the tossed covers, and the dark strands laying on top of her pillow, as if she had physically ripped them from her skull.

“She doesn’t offer much protection.”

She remains standing in the door, almost too afraid to join you on the bed, though you’re unsure if it is because she fears potentially committing adultery, or the shadows in the corner of her room. You rid yourself of your shoes, neatly placing them by the bed, before kicking your feet up on the mattress. You pat the spot next to you, while Greta finds a spot in your lap. Ellen meekly obliges, and in a few strides she’s at the bed, laying her head on the pillow next to you.

“What is bothering you, my dear?”

You coo, brushing your hand along her icy cheekbones, hoping your touch might ease some of her worries. It does, she leans into your palm, her movements much like the cat snoring in your lap. Her eyes glossy and grey, shine in the light of the moon. 

“There’s something horribly wrong with me…”

She rasps, voice strained by the tears that pool her eyes. They flicker down to your collarbone, not wanting to see your caring expression. There should only be fear. You should fear her, or at least despise her, like Friedrich does. She doesn’t wish to bring her darkness down on the ones around her, but being alone is awful. 

She’d been kicked out of the Harding manor for her episodes. They couldn't handle her. She knows to stay away from you. You deserve a marriage of happiness and love, and she’ll only ruin your chances of success. Though deep down she wishes it was your mansion she’d been granted to stay at. Your aunt's old manor has enough rooms to spare, and you only occupy a few. 

She breathes out a ragged breath. 

“I am hideous, my thoughts are hideous, but I cannot seem to stop them.”

You smooth along the black strands at her hairline. 

Why treat her with such kindness when she’s simply a monster? 

She doomed Thomas in her pursuit of intercourse and dominance. She destroyed the Hardings in her curiosity of why Anna’s embrace makes her feel safe, and why she despises Friedrich’s tone. She’ll be your downfall too. In which way she isn’t sure yet. Maybe she’ll seek comfort in your lips, tainting your purity for any man to come.  

You may be unmarried, but you’re still desired and young. She wedded quickly to avoid being put into asylum for her episodes, but you can still seek a pure love. So why does the thought of another man's lips on yours cause her fingers to tense and curl into fists?

“They plague me, and everyone around me. I am a nuisance, a sinner so impure not even the devil and his never ending flames would want me.”

Her tears finally fall, trailing down her pale cheeks as her sobs pick up. 

“You’re beautiful, Ellen.”

She shakes her head, forcing her eyes shut. 

“You are a beauty the world has yet to understand.”

She laughs bitterly, eyes remain shut. Her hands grasp at your dress, fisting the fabric tightly. Her forehead falls to your chest, desperately attempting to ignore the man in the corner of the room. 

“I’ll ruin you. You should never have agreed to enter my den. I'm a monster. Please, leave for your own sake.”

She whispers. Your hand falls to her cheek again, softly steering her head up towards yours. 

“I will not leave you. I am bound to you. I am not trapped. I’m right where I'm supposed to be.”

Her weeps grow increasingly softer.

“The darkness you fear…’ your other hand cradles the rib hiding her heart and lung. “It’s one I adore, like every other part of you.”

Your words cause her eyes to open, gazing up at you with a surprise look.

“I love you, Ellen Hutter.”

Your lips press against hers. A soft peck that quickly grows hungry. Ellen is a mess of crushing guilt. She’s only ever seen ugliness in herself. But you want her - not despite, but because of that ugliness. She’s rotten and so beautiful. 

© a-girl-with-writings 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[theirwolfbicanthrope]

A Storm Grows

rating: T/PG-13 fandom: Nosferatu character(s)/relationship(s): Ellen/Thomas, (implied Orlok) trigger/content warnings: dub/non-con voyeurism summary:

Some nights during the honeymoon, the shadows felt more alive.

[theredofoctober]

Sneaky look into the Ellen/Orlok fic I'm writing! It'll just be a oneshot as the concept is very simple, I'll probably write other, darker pieces for it, but I've wanted to get this one down for simply ages

[pigfartsviatardis]

I watched ‘Nosferatu’ the other night and I had some feelings about Ellen/Thomas so I wrote a little alternate scene one shot ❤️

Read it here!

[theyearofthewolf]

Devourance

rating: Mature relationship: Ellen/Thomas, Ellen/Orlok, Orlok/Ellen/Thomas trigger/content warnings: ummm, nightmares that include blood drinking and vore and possessive behavior summary:

She coos. His precious Ellen, almost in the grasp of something truly monstrous, and she’s preening like a kitten.