Horrortale Sans X Reader Novels & Stories

‹ ——— ✧ 𖥸 ✧ ——— › ╔═════════ • ≻ ♜ ≺ • ═════════╗ ꒰ 𝔐𝔸𝕋𝔼 𝕋𝕆 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔻ℝ𝔸𝔾𝕆ℕ ℙℝ𝕀ℕℂ𝔼 ₊˚⋆ ( AUTHOR’S NOTE ) ╚═════════ • ≻ ♜ ≺ • ═════════╝ ☽ —— 「 When everything is on a wire 」 ❝ . . . . ℍEY MY WONDERFUL READERS, I am Shalini Zhara, I would like to give just a few notes before we begin, first of all, I need to say this story is mature themed (18+), will contain sexual themes or sexual explicit. Read at your own risk, you have been warned now, please! Plus I just want to warn I follow Irish English, not American English so color is colour for me, and favorite is favourite for me. I am sorry if this annoys anyone, it's really hard to change from what I have learned to another, I

“Hey… about what you saw earlier.” She jumped, clutching the book to her chest. “I—I didn’t see anything. I swear. I won’t tell anyone.” I smiled softly and stepped even closer, backing her gently against the shelves. “Relax. Professor Harlan and I… we have an understanding. But I saw how you looked at us. You didn’t run away because you were scared. You ran because it turned you on, didn’t it?” Her cheeks burned brighter. She shook her head quickly. “No… that’s not… I’m not—”

he asked, nodding to the other armchair, across the small round table and the foot lamp. “Of course.” He sat down, looking around again before facing me with a mild smile. “So this is what you do when you do you.” I nodded, keeping the book open on my lap, studying him. “Too loud for you with us around the whole day for two days already, huh?” I nodded again, shrugging slightly. He nodded too. “What’re you reading?” I raised the book enough for him to see the cover. “This speculates about ley lines in a fictional frame,” I explained softly. “It must come up about page 500, but I felt like reading it over from the beginning.”

“Fuck you. I’m not scared of you.” “No?” Vincenzo’s thumb brushed my lower lip. “Your body says otherwise. Already getting hard just from me touching your face. Cute.” “Get your hands off me!” I snapped, but my voice cracked. He was right. Fear twisted in my gut, but so did something hot and unwanted. This man was dangerous. Powerful. And the way he looked at me like I was already his…

Alex thought. The vampire had the power to read everybody's mind. He answered his unasked question. "I am not a human and I do not have skin. The blood doesn't flow in my veins." There was a vicious and prideful howl out of him. Alexander cared nuts about the vampire unlike Amara. He believed dying once is far better than a torture of every day. Alex perceived one who doesn't fear death do not have anything to worry on earth.

Right on cue, a pair of hard palms slid from my back to my boobs. Without warning, he pulled both teats earning a gasp I couldn’t stop. “That’s more like it.” Mr brown haired said with a cocky smile. “Strip her already, I can’t wait to see what’s underneath.” Mr green eyes said, not masking the lust glistening from his eyes. My chest felt like it would rip open at any second with the way my heart pounded against it. What was more exciting? The fact I was about to live out my long yearned fantasy… or the fact that it was with strangers that didn’t bother with names.

My breath hitched and he smirked, obviously enjoying torturing me. “What are you doing Mr Daxton?” I asked, though my words came out as pants. His eyes locking with mine, he grabbed both my thighs, opening my legs and standing between them. Only then did I notice he was shirtless, his overalls were folded on his waist. If this was a different situation, I would have admired his physique.

While the rest of the class was still grinding, I flipped my textbook over and started sketching on the blank back cover. I drew her exactly how I pictured her at night completely naked. Those big, heavy tits hanging with dark, stiff nipples. Tiny waist flaring out to wide hips and that thick, juicy ass. I shaded her pussy nice and puffy, a little drip running down her thigh. Underneath I wrote “Professor Margaret Hale” in clean letters and added a small arrow pointing at her cunt that said “Needs this dick.” I was adding more detail to her spread thighs when I felt her stop right beside my desk. Her perfume hit me first, something expensive and feminine. I didn’t look up. Just kept shading

An unread text from an unknown number. I blinked, trying to force my vision into focus. I swiped the screen. It was an image. High resolution, stark, and utterly silent. In the center of the frame was a man lying on a bed. He was pale, his eyes wide and milky, staring at a ceiling he would never see again. His chest was a ruin of crimson, a deep, jagged crater of blood that had soaked through his white undershirt and turned the sheets into a sodden, dark map. Buried deep in the center of that mess, right through the sternum, was a tactical knife—its black hilt protruding like a tombstone.

I couldn't help watching his every move, (not because I was scared, mind you) as he rummaged through the piles. Finally, he turned toward me, his head glinting in the light as he started to approach me, his arm tucked behind his back. His footsteps seemed to be amplified a thousand times over so that I almost did not notice he had arrived before he stood in my face, so close that I could feel his breath on my face. Despite the acrid smell of flames, dampness and blood, his smell of smoke and rotten fish was still enough to make me gag. He grinned, the result of which drove me near the edge of passing out. I couldn't help wondering if he ate the flesh of those he tortured here. His teeth were