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wailing-bunny · 25 days

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The Price of Kindness

Blade with language barrier <3 (I researched the Chinese phrases but if they're not accurate I apologize!)

☂~☂~☂~☂~☂~☂~☂~☂~☂

Dark Content Warning!

Contains: Blade x gn Reader, Kafka (mentioned)

Warnings: yandere, NSFW, non-con, murder, violence (I mean it's Blade come on)

☂~☂~☂~☂~☂~☂~☂~☂~☂

You made the grave mistake of meeting Blade.

And an even greater one, you made the mistake of being kind to him.

It was all you could think about, as your tears fell like raindrops, dirtying the bloody mattress even more.

He didn’t pay any mind to your cries, however. In fact, you almost felt him going harder, moving faster, as he grunted like he was the one in pain.

You didn’t want to think about it, you didn’t want to remember that hellish day that you met him, but it was really all you could think about at the moment. If only… maybe… if you had done this instead of that… or that instead of this…

Or maybe, the best result would’ve been never meeting him in the first place.

You were strolling in the Luofu, glancing around the place in awe as you admired the ship you've wanted to visit for a long time. You had gone to a few stores, tried a few dishes you were dying to try, and now you were taking a stroll in the streets you admired so much.

Normally, people prefer places like Penacony for travel, and a few people had told you that the Xianzhou Luofu isn’t exactly all that touristic, and that you would have trouble understanding their language. But you didn’t care! It was your dream, and right now, you were standing in the middle of your dream, a happy face on your face.

Until you were caught up in an emergency, where you were cornered into a wall.

“Blade…”

You hissed in pain. “At least be a bit more gentle… “ You begged.

Of course, he didn’t listen. As if he couldn’t even understand what you were saying.

And to be honest, you couldn’t understand him either.

A man, trying to rob you, cornered you into a wall. He was saying things you couldn’t even understand. But it was clear he was a robber.

You cried as you tried to explain to the man that you didn’t have anything valuable with you. And the man, instead of understanding you, started to get violent.

Just as you were ready to accept your destiny, and regret your choice of coming here,

You heard the sound of a swift blade.

Cutting through delicate skin, and not even letting the victim scream.

You were shocked, scared, hesitant, happy? You just hoped he wouldn’t kill you too. You fell to your knees, looking at the dead body now laying limply in front of you.

You should’ve screamed.

You really should’ve. But even that wouldn’t have saved you.

“Shh.”

You looked up. A man with black hair, and eyes as sharp as a blade, was glaring at you, with a hand on his mouth, urging you to not speak, or scream.

You stood there confused. Not knowing what to do, but you obeyed. Scared for your life, so you obeyed.

A shushing sound, you’re all too familiar with, was heard. And just like before, you bit back your words, and closed your mouth, trying to muffle any sound that could be audible.

Because just like before, you were scared for your life.

At first, he was really intimidating, but after realizing he had saved you, you started to grow less weary of the man. Even inviting him to a café you saw on the way.

He gave you a look, not speaking, or making any move, as if he was judging you. You stayed there awkwardly, before remembering.

He probably doesn’t understand you.

So you quickly open a translating app, and show him your phone with a smile. Perhaps you were too calm for a person who just saw someone get murdered, by the person right in front of her, but you didn’t care. You were a bit lonely, to be honest. And although weird, he looked like a handsome gentleman.

Though, after seeing your screen, his expression did not change. He just glanced at the screen, before turning his attention back at you. He huffed, a frustrated sound.

And with that, he turned around and walked away. You frowned. How mean.

Just as you too were about to turn around, you heard a sound.

“Lái.”

You tilted your head, not understanding, before he made a beckoning motion, and you gasped, now starting to follow him with a smile.

“Bì zuî.”

He grunted. You yelled in frustration that you did NOT understand him, but when he gripped your hair and yanked harshly, you got the memo and stopped talking.

But he continued to pull as you sobbed, now growing more frustrated. What did he want you to do? You whimpered in pain, and misery, feeling hopeless. You wanted to go back home… You wished you had never came to the Xianzhou Luofu. You wished you had never talked with this weird man. You wished you had realized that the wanted posters among the galaxy had his face on them.

You shared a meal with the man. Although you couldn’t understand each other, you still tried your best to show him your appreciation with the translator on your phone.

He himself, didn’t talk much, nor react. But he wasn’t glaring at you with such hatred anymore. Maybe he wasn’t even glaring in the first place? That may be his natural expression. You weren’t sure.

Regardless, it was fun. And he was a good listener. Even when you stopped talking, thinking you bore him, he urged you to continue talking.

You eventually came to the conclusion that he was just bad at expressing his emotions. You were happy to make a new friend though.

After the little date, he even invited you to his house.

But you didn’t know, that you would end up being kidnapped by the Stellaron Hunters instead.

A slap brings you back to the present. A harsh one too. You yelp in pain, furrowing your brows and looking at him with a confused face.

He looked…less feral now. Less like an animal. He was panting, still glaring, but his expression was softer now. Less like wanted to kill you by ravishing your insides.

He did the latter anyway though, you were so tired, you barely felt him pull out. You finally could breathe.

You tried to roll over to rest more comfortably, but the smell of your own blood covered in the sheets, and the pain of your open wounds brushing against the surface made you whimper in pain.

Which you quickly regretted, when you felt his eyes lock on you again. He was about to grip your wrists again.

“Bladie, let them rest, will you?”

You heard her voice, and breathed a sigh of relief. Blade tsked before getting up, and leaving with the lady who was chuckling in amusement.

You closed your eyes, finally happy to be able to get some rest. You heard his voice among their distant talk, something catching your attention.

“Maybe it wasn’t too bad of an idea, after all…”

And you opened your eyes in shock when you realized.

#yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere blade #hsr blade #yandere hsr #dark content #language barrier my favorite

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allmyocsarebritish · 7 months

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A passion for exploration

(Known in my notes as ahkaeology)

Pairing: Ahkmenrah X reader

Warnings(?): Grave robbing

A/N: okay okay I know it's really odd that a wednesday blog is now posting for natm but I went down a rabbit hole and I'm afraid I lost the entrance. History nerd has shown through well and truly :')

Also my first multi part fic :D

Title is courtesy of my mate Abi using AI

Ch 1

Grave robbing

Was desecrating the tombs of these once honoured, omnipotent kings of Egypt really something you were willing to do? Had the circumstances preceding the grave robbery been less bleak, the answer would have undoubtedly been an definitive no. These rulers commanded the uptmost respect in life, and here you were, excavating the only memory that remained. There wasn't a day that went by during your expedition in which guilt did not infiltrate your mind, suffocating your conscience and depriving you of any sleep, even before you came close to finding an ancient tomb. But it wasn't like you had any other choice.

Pushing down your gnawing feelings of dread, you trekked on through the Egyptian desert. Rough sand brushed against your lower legs beneath your simple, calf-length skirt, chafing at the skin. You were the only one of the troupe resigned to walking, as the youngest and the lowest class. Astride camels, the two men had a better view of the surrounding plains, though the blank, barren flats stretched on long beyond the horizon.

"The valley of the kings shan't be too far from this place" called Lord Carnarvon, map still in hand.

You held back a scoff, rolling your eyes as you knew he wasn't looking at you. If only he would admit none of you knew where you were going. The only clue you were given was that the gold rich landmark was announced by a grand pyramid at the end of a hollowed valley consisting of a multitude of others. What a shame that this was the Egyptian desert.

Filled with pyramids.

Days and days stretched on of travel, and eventually, you stopped counting the sunrises, resigning to the fact that this would only stop when the valley was found, however long that took.

As with most great things, the discovery of the valley occurred at a time when you least expected. You had taken advantage of a small oasis, resting for a few hours and permitting the camels an indulgent drink. Howard Carter dozed beside you, hat pulled low over his face, in order to shield his resting eyes from the blazing fire of the sun. Carnarvon had taken his liberty and ran off, or so you had hoped. No, in fact he was continuing the investigation alone and on foot, clutching a worn, shoddy map, which was twinged a grimey brown with years of filth accumulated around the edges of the paper. He never strayed far, though attempted to work out his bearings, using the wind or some pretentious bullshit you never bothered listening to. No, you were perfectly content drawing in the sand with a stick you had found and claimed an hour or so prior.

You were more than unimpressed when the sketches you had so tediously etched into the sand were scattered by Carnarvon sprinting back to the small camp. Jolted awake, Carter sat up sharply, alarm etched across his features.

"Blimey, good sir! You gave me quite the fright!" He exclaimed as you nodded in agreement.

"Are you alright?" You asked, though your eyes may have given away your disinterest (had either man been paying an ounce of attention).

"Shh!" Carnarvon interrupted your pleasant concern, to which you rolled your eyes and began attempting to recover your drawings. "Carter, good sir! I dare say I've found it. I've discovered the pyramid!"

A bold statement, and not the first time either. No, twice prior you had been dragged into the colossal ancient skyscrapers, only to find they were far from your true destination. Empty of any treasure or historical worth beyond the buildings themselves, you continued on, fruitless. Grand structures were quite an obvious goldmine, and previous grave robbers had left the tombs void of, well, anything.

Though of course, it was more than worth it to explore this fresh discovery, not taking any chances.

Time was of the essence, or so you were told. Camels saddled up in record time, you were hoisted up from your seat on the floor by Carter, borderline dragged up.

"Come, young Y/N, you heard his lordship. We may have found the Valley. Hurry on, now" his words were gentle, still treating you as he had done in your childhood, despite the fact you were now 19. It was something that you both appreciated and hated simultaneously. Howard was kind to you, much more so than Lord Carnarvon, who cared as little for you as you did for him. The mutual disinterested made for some long, awkward silences, and many threats to leave you in an unknown grave.

Still dragging you by the arm, Carter began to untie his camel, before finally letting go of you. The rush was honestly needless, you had been expeditioning for months at the least, what harm would a few mere minutes cause? But the men were adamant, and there was no arguing, especially not from a useless child as yourself.

"Can I at least keep my stick?"

Recieving no reply from Carnarvon and an incredulous stare from Carter, you concluded the answer was yes.

The journey from the oasis to the pyramid was shorter than anticipated, though still rather long. Another day passed, spent entirely wandering through the desert. Exhaustion washed over your entire body, and it was a war every minute to keep your eyes open. But, alas, you must continue, and eventually your trek drew to a close as with further examination, it became clear this pyramid was not what you were searching for.

Disappointment and rage filled Carnarvon upon the realisation that this was, in fact, not the Valley of the Gates of the Kings, but rather a singular, sandy pyramid. "Why, there must be some mistake!" He complained impetuantly, always one to shift blame elsewhere. You exchanged a look with Carter, who for once was willing to admit the incompetence of the troupe's leader. After all, what were the chances that a random pyramid would mark the infamous, esteemed valley?

From a distance it appeared mighty, though in fact that was more than likely a mirage caused by the monochromatic nature if the desert. Upon further examination, however, the pyramid was far from the grandeur anticipated by Carnarvon and Carter. Huge gashes and rifts in the brickwork jumped out from metres away. Crumbling brickwork was cratered, resembling a sponge with many holes, as dusty gravel avalanched down the sides of the architecture at every other interval. Overall it was worn and aged, therefore more likely to be looted and barren.

"I do say it's worth taking a look around, my lord." You spoke, addressing him clearly. Carnarvon waved his hand dismissively, wishing you out of his presence.

"Yes, yes. Go ahead child." Did you expect that? No. Did you need to be told twice? Also no. A small grin gracing your features, you took off into the pyramid.

Racing across the gravely surface of the desert, the sand provided a slight level of resistance. Nevertheless, you persevered onwards, stride refusing to falter. Basking in the glorious heat of the warm Egyptian sun's rays casting down on your face, you closed your eyes as you ran, chin tilted upwards. Naturally, this obscured your vision, rendering you blind, and therefore leading you to miss the gaping hole in the ground.

A short squeala of surprise passed your lips as you suddenly found yourself unexpectedly falling through the earth. The drop was rather long, and you landed in a heap on the floor of the dugout with a large thud. You weren't aware of how long you were unconscious, but judging by the severe lack of any source of light, sunset had passed. Pain shot through your body, coarsing through your veins and ricocheting off each of your bones in turn. Head pounding, you groaned slightly, trying to work out what in the hell just happened to you.

Darkness continued to fill the room, prompting you to fish within one of your pockets, pulling out a match and striking it aflame. The hidden chamber was large, that much you could tell even despite the dim lighting. Blinking twice as you began to, very slightly, register your surroundings, you noticed the sheer obscurity of this interior. You'd heard of the saying 'paintings that seemed to follow you around the room', but this gave a new meaning to those words.

No, wait.

Those paintings were moving, and not metaphorically. Eyes widening, you began to notice everything in the tomb writhing like a cluster of cobras. Onyx black cats prowled upon shelves, worn linen bandages slowly unfurling from being bound around each of their limbs. Animated drawings of men, deities and horses alike moved naturally, as though it were a perfectly normal occurrence. Shabti servants, the colour of oxidised copper and ranging from 5-30cm tall formed an army scattered throughout the tomb. Then, slowly, as though delaying the inevitable, your eyes trained upon it.

The sarcophagus.

Shuffling away rapidly, your back hit the decrepit wall of the hidden grave. The embodiment of terror plastered over your face, you watched in horror as the coffin began to violently shake. Your blood ran cold as bangs from the inside began to echo across the acoustic chamber. The rusted hinges were worn and flimsy, and the bolts began to unscrew from their holdings. Padlocks had become frail with ages and popped open, one almost smacking you square in the forehead, to which you responded with a short yelp. For a moment, all movement ceased, as though whatever was inside had begun to listen to the intruder in their grave. You took liberty of the fleeting moment, and began to craft a way out. The quiet was short lived, however, as, with one final, mighty heave, the final lock was broken.

The sarcophagus had been opened.

Your breath caught in your throat, the air thick and suffocating as you watched a wrapped hand emerge from the tomb. The coffin lid was ajar, though it didn't take much pushing to be removed almost entirely. Almost at once, the creatures residing in the grave marched forward, crowding their newly awoken master. Hidden in the shadows, you froze, hoping to remain unseen and ignored, and thus leaving unscathed. Soon enough Carter and Carnarvon were bound to find you?

Right?

A huge open grave couldn't be subtle, you only missed it as you eyes were closed. A stupid decision really, and you mentally cursed yourself.

You remained rooted to the spot on the freezing floor, as the reanimated corpse continued to rise from its grave. Surely this was an affect of your concussion; for all you knew this was just an unconscious dream. Besides, with all the travel in the desert, dehydration had undoubtedly left you delirious. It was at that split second of slight relaxation (if you could call it that) in which you spied the piles of treasure sloping at every corner of the tomb. What could you say - you were a grave robber. Carnarvon would be so proud - if you returned alive that was.

It began to claw at the ancient, frayed linen covering its face, causing your heart to race: it thumped so hard you swore you'd be given away. Praying you didn't go into cardiac arrest, you continued staring bug-eyed as the bandages unfurled in front of you, like the dramatic unveiling of an innovative new invention. Closing your eyes for the second time that day, you winced, raising your arms to shield your face from the horrors you were undoubtedly about to witness. Bile rose in your throat as your mouth drew dry. Images of rancid, rotting flesh peeling off bones flashed through your mind, prompting your whole body to tremble.

'I'm just delirious. Any moment now I'll open my eyes to be met with a chamber of riches.' You thought to yourself. Awoken mummies were the stuff of fairytales, and despite what Carnarvon and Carter believed, you were most certainly not a child.

Your internal monologue was cut short however, interrupted by the gentlest of touches placed on your arm. It prompted you to flinch away instantaneously, a soft whimper escaping. Eyes shooting open, you came face to face with the pharoah himself. And he was not what you had anticipated.

He wasn't the scary mummy you were expecting, he was a teenage kid.

Kind, cerulean eyes rimmed with a smoky black eyeliner stared into your own, azure oceans plagued with concern. Concern for you. Such a colour must have been pricelessly rare, sapphires amongst stones.

His golden, tanned hand had felt cold and lifeless against your arm, yet the heat it had radiated was electrifying, continuing to shoot jolts throughout your entire body. His skin was soft and smooth, betraying the fact that this royal had almost certainly never worked a day in his life.

Slightly unruly brown curls and a toned slender figure - he was actually rather cute.

"Are you alright? You seem a little... Lost?" He queried, to which you seemed unable to form a response.

"I- what.. who? What's going on?" You managed, stumbling over your words as your voice cracked slightly.

He gave a small smile, clearly sympathetic of your utter confusion, before gesturing at a golden tablet, as though that were supposed to help you in any way. Noting your expression of utter bewilderment, the undead Pharaoh elaborated.

"That's my tablet, blessed by Khonsu himself. It holds the power to awake the dead at night," he gestures to himself and the cats, who stared at you, blinking and unsure whether it would be safe for them to approach. Then, he pointed to the paintings in the walls and dragged his finger towards the mass of shabti dolls, both of which watched you with the same confusion. "Along with anything else resembling a life form that finds it's way into the presence of the tablet."

"Right." You answered, holding your head and still in shock.

"You needn't be afraid, you know. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Thank you, that is a relief." You swallowed thickly.

He hummed in response, smiling with an amused frown at the fact you feared him.

"So, who exactly are you?" You asked after a short yet not uncomfortable silence.

His lavish outfit betrayed the royal status he claimed in life, only accentuated by the Red Crown, or Deshret supporting a golden snake - the symbol of monarchy- resting atop his sarcophagus. Around his neck fastened a Usekh collar, adorned with teal and umber jewels and beads, and topped with golden accents. Sleeves of cloth draped over his arms, the fibres of the fabric woven with pure gold. The metallic shine of the element was evident in the chromatic sheen of the cape resting over the Pharoah's shoulders. At his waist there hung a Shendyt kilt, fastened with a cloth belt, also elaborately decorated. Beautiful gold jewellery decorated his figure, your eyes drawn in particular to the stunning gold bracelet cuffs he supported on either wrist, encrusted with gemstones, potentially aquamarine or topaz. Once again your attention was drawn to his face.

"I am Ahkmenrah, fourth king of the fourth king. And you are...?"

Stunned into silence for a moment by the regality of the ancient king before you, you blinked and paused briefly before answering.

"Y/N. Y/N L/N."

"So, Y/N, what are you doing in my grave?" Ahkmenrah asked you, barely trying to surpress an amused smile. Your cheeks flushed as you tried to form a lie. This ruler seemed nice, and regardless, you couldn't exactly tell him you were intent on raiding his tomb for riches.

"It was an accident. Really, it was. I was running, and, well, I wasn't exactly looking where I was going."

"Clearly." He smirked. "Why were you in the desert though? Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but you don't appear to be Egyptian."

"What? Oh, no I'm not. I'm English. I came out in an expedition with two other men; Lord Carnarvon and Carter. They're archaeologists." You winced at the manufactured truth. It wasn't entirely a lie, that was what the men claimed to be. Though all your troupe really planned to accomplish was glorified tomb-raiding, a fact that made you sick.

"And they left you here?" Ahkmenrah questioned incredulously, unable to fathom why on earth they would abandon you like this.

"Well, no. Not exactly. They allowed me to go check out the pyramid about 10 yards south, but, as o said, I fell down a hole." You blushed again, this time due to your own stupidity and clumsiness. This was not how to earn the respect of an esteemed king.

Ahkmenrah frowned. "So how long have you been down here?"

"Uh. I don't actually know, I was unconscious for a short time. Or possibly a long time, that I'm not sure of either."

Concern once again crossed the young Pharoah's face. "You poor thing! Are you alright? You're not concussed, are you?"

"Probably." You shrugged, further alarming him.

The next few hours were spent talking to Ahk, discussing everything from the legal affairs of ancient Egypt to the cats that accompanied him in his tomb. Over the course of the night, the two of you had grown closer, both in terms of friendship and literal distance. Most of the other inhabitants of the grave had deemed you safe, returning to their regular routine, and the most curious of the mummified cats, an (aptly) Egyptian mau apparently named Tivali, had become rather taken to you. Eventually, the exhaustion of the day had caught up with you, and you slumped against Ahk's shoulder. Revelling in his presence, contentment washed over you as, for the first time on your quest, you relaxed, finally at ease. Perhaps it was delirium, but in your sleepy state you swore you felt his fingertips grace against your cheek, the ghost of his lips pressing gently against your temple.

"Sleep well, my dear."

#night at the museum #natm #natm ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x reader #rami malek #rami malek x reader #egypt #ancient egypt #history #egyptology #archaeology #natm fandom #natm fanfiction #natm fic #night at the museum fanfic #natm au #egyptian pharaoh

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darlingofvalyria · 11 months

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An abandoned church made most of broken wood and whimpering winds becomes a momentary resting sanctuary for Uhtred and his men— Osferth finds himself with a crooked root in the shape of a hand, a gold ring, and a full, blue moon.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ COCK WORSHIP, ORGASM DENIAL ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,830 ] [ masterlist ] | Osferth x Ghost Bride!Reader

contains— smut, fluff, angsty-ish - corpse bride!au - this is not the N word okay, you're a ghostly being that becomes corporeal. it's monsterfucking, not that kind of filth - no use of y/n - mentions of christianity lol - dillusioned!reader (if you know the movie, you know) - mention of character death - nsfw: sort of dubcon, smidge coercion, cock worship, orgasm denial(?) - no betas.

a/n— ok, but i am actually very proud of this one!! i enjoyed writing this way too much, adding a bit of comedy aspect to it shdhs. i hope you enjoy it!! oh, also this is the vibe you want if you wanna listen. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

His pack rests behind him, the couple of bundled furs he uses for bedding has hardened into the cold ground, not at all aiding his sleep. Around him, his lord and the rest of the men had managed to fall into their dreams, almost as soon as they closed their eyes.

Even Finan, with a furrow in his brow and his arms crossed, has his head tilted awkwardly to one side that Osferth knows is going to be painful in the morning.

But sleep evades him, and though he scarcely believes in ghosts, resting in a church, no matter how abandoned, no matter that there's gaping, charred hole that has blown over the side of it, trickling the cold, winter winds and soft, wet snow— it feels odd.

It brings a restlessness and a comfort all the same, and with a few minutes more of staring at rotting wood and broken awning, Osferth sighs. Their small fire is dying, might as well get more dry sticks.

The church, though broken and ruined, offers warmth. Once he's out into the wintry night, the pale moonlight bright and full, glittering the wisps of fluffy snow as if you don't come out wet if you sink on it. It's cold. Much too cold to walk, to linger, but he continues. He winds to the other side, leisure in his pace, breathing in the cold whilst warming his hands with his mouth.

It's nice to find a rhythmic motion that empties his thoughts. It is nice to be out of Wessex, out of familiarity. Uhtred brought with him adventure and battle, honour and excitement. It quieted the wrought in his head... until night comes, and Osferth is left with the weight of all those he tries to bury.

He walks quite a bit, observing and carries a faint sadness for a few graves that are left. Some opened, unearthed by grave robbers, uncaring of the Christian faith. Wooden plaque holding no names, just crosses. He moves past, finding himself entering the forest before he could think through it until he comes across a clearing. It's surprisingly, perfectly circled, trees at the side adjusted like soldiers with a curled root at the centre.

Curious and kind of awed at nature, at the wonder of the existence this little tree root, curled and cold, he dips one knee as flutters his fingers over it. The thin spindles look like curled fingers, a hand reaching in a hooked angle.

When he pushes his hand forward, curling his fingers against the root, Osferth makes a surprised hum at how fitted, how perfectly it holds like a hand against his.

Osferth doesn't notice you, dancing between the shadows and moonlight. Hit by light and you fade with it, more air and light yourself than life and physical flesh. You had seen him and his men find the scarred church and setup camp. The four men had not been the first to find the abandoned place, nor had taken refuge.

And time is everlasting when you're dead. Meaningless when there is no end to days and nights.

But he is different, you muse, watching him unable to sleep and walk and walk until he reached the clearing and your cold, dead heart feels a tug.

Does he know you? Is that why he is so different?

You slink between trees, hiding behind a trunk as you watch him kneel where your body lies, curious and awed, watching as he holds your hand, curling his fingers around your own.

Your left hand flexes, a surprised giggle falling from your lips and disappearing with the wind as you feel his warmth. His hand as if he is holding your own. Human touch fades from memory in a span of time and it is a pleasant hold.

Look down, you try to say, excitement you've never felt before, thrums through your body. Look down and see the ring!

If he does, you know do not need to know who he is. You know who he will be.

Look down, look down, look down! Please! you are practically screaming, jumping in the shadows as his eyes, beautiful blue like your favourite butterfly, is entranced by the glint underneath the snow. You hold your hands to your chest. Oh, please! Please, Please look down!

You exhale, feeling life sweep back into your mouth. There. There you are, you say soundlessly as he picks it up. A gold band worn with age but gold it still is. He twists it around, and though others have tried to steal it, pocket it and sell it, you know he is different. His warmth is different. There is kindness in his eye that you like.

And God, is he pretty. You would not mind at all being his bride.

You're on one knee, now propose, you say, willing the vows of old and binding to reach his ears. He twists it and as if playfully entranced, he mutters the words that you echo back in the shadows.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," Osferth murmurs, the words he's listened once as a young boy, hearing the priest anoint two lovers who had escaped to bond their love. "Your cup shall never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness."

He raises the ring and places it on your crooked, dried fourth finger— and you inhale air, wintry and cold and so, so alive for the first time in a very long time.

"And with this ring," he says.

"I ask you to be mine," you finish, startling Osferth as you glide toward him. Triumphant. He stumbles, falling on his bum as your arms widen around you in all your ghostly bride attire and glory. "My love! I have waited for you for such a long time. Good thing the ice and winters have been kind to my body and you still manage to find it!"

Though in truth, you had plowed against hard ground to at least unearth your left hand while most of your body had been abandoned. Your skull had cracked in three places, and there's a worm who made a permanent home in your dried liver. But your new husband does not need to know that.

He gapes at you, wide eyed and unblinking, and just as he starts you yell? Shriek— You stumble to him, falling on his lap as you press your hands against his mouth. When you don't pass through him, you let out an excited shriek.

"Oh, my apologies, I don't mean to scare you!" You pout, aged old sadness wisps beneath your eyes. "Please don't scream, my love. I have waited for you for so long. And you're so warm... and so real."

As shock permeates his face, frozen under the feel of you pressing against him— there is weight, he can feel you. You're not as warm as him, cold in fact, and he is able to see through you if his eyes adjust well enough. But you are there. He can see you and he can feel you. Your wide, unblinking eyes drinking him in, exuberant smile composed of pretty lips and a mesmerising happiness. Your hair cascades around a ruined, fluttering veil with dead flowers atop your head.

But by God, you are beautiful.

Your wedding dress— because you are a bride, are you not? Were a bride, Osferth's head is starting to ache from trying to look through and at you — are in tatters and holes, showing more of your skin than what your dress initially thought to show and he swallows. He can see a creamy thigh exposed through a slash. It doesn't help that you're bent over, resting between his legs, and he can see the top of your breasts.

On your end, your hands are just there, on his face, and you start exploring his pretty visage. His warmth is addicting, gliding your fingers through his nose and pretty cheekbones, tickling yourself on his lashes with the pads of your fingers and you giggle. The sound makes Osferth exhale shakily before you are cupping his sharp jaw and your fingers touch his lips, your own mouth turning into an 'O'.

Oh, they're soft and a little chapped, a little cold, but his exhale entrances you. His show of pure, breathing life is tantalising.

You lean in closer, nearly touching his lips with your own as you try to inhale his air. He smells of smoked meat and dried ale. Winter woods and burnt campfire. Your hands drift from his mouth to his neck, to his chest. His heart. There in your palms, you press tight. A quickened heartbeat nestles beneath and you exhale, smiling ruefully.

"My husband." Osferth's eyes widen at the pure adoration and lust in your gaze. "You are wonderful. My wait is worth it."

"Hold on, l-lady." He captures your hands in his, eyebrows furrowed. He swallows as he can feel you both corporeal and wispy. If shadows can be held, he thinks it would feel like this. "H-How am I your husband? Sorry, I've— I don't even know your name!"

What's more is that you're a ghost! But something in his head tells him not to speak aloud such a thing, for another, he isn't sure he hasn't fallen back in the encampment with the others. A bizarre dream of a very pretty, ghostly bride is for one an embarrassing topic to broach.

"Oh. That's right!" You giggle happily, offering your name and Osferth tests in his tongue. A pretty name for a pretty bride. "What's yours? Though, I'm afraid I prefer to call you husband, and would prefer to be called your wife. Or 'your love'."

At another helpless, tinkling laughter, Osferth blushes. Your eyes are distracted by the colour in his cheeks, so long ago contained your own but no more, that you take your hands from his and start petting the rosy tint again. He's so warm that you start nuzzling into him, your head burrowing into his neck.

"O-Osferth." He clears his throat to get your attention. "Osferth, lady."

"My wife."

"Sorry?"

You start to pout. "Call me 'my wife'."

Osferth starts to shake his head. "Lady, I really don't—"

"I am your wife now. See." You sit up, pointing back to your dead hand, gold ring glinting under the pale moon. "You've made your vows and given me the ring. We're married now." Your gaze darkens, your form shimmering and Osferth yelps as you had gotten ice cold. "You have made your vow, Osferth. Are you telling me you do not honour your vows? Are you a man without honour? Is there another... woman?"

Your hands on his face sharpened, like ice, digging through his skin as iff trying to embedded yourself into his skull. He cries out, taking your wrists.

"No, no! I— yes, I am your husband now. I am. There is also no other woman!"

You cock your head, still frowning. "Are you sure?"

"I'm wearing monk's robes, lad— wife," he says helplessly.

"But..." You cock your head to the side. "You don't seem too shock of a woman's body. You're very responsive to me, my love, I enjoy it quite so."

This time, he blushes deeply. "I— Goodness, okay. I've had practice... s'all."

"With... whores?"

He cringes, waiting for you to turn mad, pure ice cold and tear through his skin like you almost did, but you only hum when he nods.

"That is alright. That presents more of a challenge than an obstruction of our love."

"Challenge?" he asks as you gently push him on his back, straddling his hips. You slide your palms up and down his torso almost as if he is a campfire and you are warming your hands.

He swallows at your confident grin before you blow him a kiss and he exhales a laugh, his mind truly unconnected from his body because there is a ghostly woman on top of him, adoring him with flirtations, and he is stirring in his pants.

Truly, he must be deep asleep, in a more awkward position than Finan.

If I am, he thinks watching you with a blossoming attachment. Please, by God, don't wake me.

With a seductive intent, you slide down from his body, making sure you pay a special wiggle in his tenting manhood that he feels a lightning bolt from his cock to the ends of his nerves. He doesn't truly understand what you intend until you've unlaced him and paying special attention to his now, semi-erect appendage.

Osferth is red and sputtering, unable to find the strength to stop you.

You get your face impossibly close to his manhood, your unbridled attention makes his cock inflate until you test a teasing finger from beneath, circling his balls, up and up until you tease the slit and his hips jolt.

"G-God, Oh goodness," he spits, white knuckling his woolen coat. "Please do something. D-Don't just—shit." You test a tongue, laving the underside of his cock until pearly white essence beads from his slit and you lick it experimentally. It tastes salty, inexcusably human and alive, and you decide you like it, especially when you watch Osferth writhe, unable to decide what to do from such teasing little touches.

"Good thing for you husband, your wife made sure to serve a keen listen to gossiping wives behind the church after mass. Well before the raid burnt it all down." You got yourself comfortable between his thighs, loving how snugged you fit against his warmth here, as well as having a beautiful of view of your Osferth. "They spoke salaciously of what keeps their husbands to their beds."

You give him a wink as you enclose your hand on his cock, giving it a firm tug and he chokes. "To keep the whores away." You start slow and teasing, wanting to see what movements pleased him the most, what made him sigh and groan, jolt, hips chasing the feeling of your hand that started to warm and get wet, both from his excitement and the teasing licks you give.

When he started panting, you took your hand away. His head bobs back adorably at you, frowning. "W-Wife? Wha—" But you don't let him finish, sitting up on your hunches as you replace your hand with your mouth, feeling the stretch as he throws his head back again, neck arched. It doesn't hurt, momentarily uncomfortable as you test the feeling of it, the weight now so full in your mouth before you start moving up and down, eased by the slick and guided by his pretty sounds.

And Osferth has been on the brink of peak multiple times, but you kept stopping or slowing midway. At first, he surmised it must be your first time, unused to a man in your mouth but eager to give him pleasure, which he can't help but feel deep fondness for.

By the third peek he's been deprived off, and the little smirk playing on your lips, he realised the truth. But your mouth is a different story. It's hot and heady, just like a real mouth and his stomach is clenching, his pleasure tightening that he's got tears in his eyes, apologising as his hips chase his high in your throat but by the rumble that rocked his cock, it seems as if you were trying to tell him it was okay.

When you started massaging his stones, he was gone. White hot pleasure broke behind his eyelids that he grabbed your head, your veil and hair, dead flowers falling into light as he came, hips stuttering, before holding you down until the last drop of his spend is in your mouth.

He releases you with apologies, chest heaving with tears in his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, lady, I— inexcusable." He stared gently cleaning your face, unable to realise how much more solid you had become, how much more colour bled in your ghostly blue.

But as you sit back up, you're grinning, unmistakable pride in your gaze as he wipes the corner of your mouth tenderly. You take his fingers before he wipes it on his trousers, coated in him, and licks them clean, sucking hard with a little giggle.

"Good boy," you say. Osferth shudders, his cock already painfully stirring once more.

The Lord have mercy on him. Were there ghostly vixens? Did he marry the only ghostly vixen?

He can't say he's too mad about it.

"Hmm. So that's what it tastes like. I think I like it." You smile, rubbing his thigh. "I also think we are going to have a fruitful marriage, sweet Osferth. What we only need now is one thing..."

He blinks at you. "Hm?"

"Death, my love." You blink back at him owlishly, snapping the dagger strapped to his side. "How can we stay together when one of us breathes?"

Christ, I already have an idea for part two...

#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth fanfic #kinktober 2023 #osferth smut #osferth fluff #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk smut #tlk fluff #︶꒦꒷♡ elle tries kinks ♡꒷꒦︶#elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#the last kingdom #tlk #osferth scenario #ewan mitchell characters

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qierxing · 2 months

Text

Determination

A/N: Finished the LaDs story if you couldn’t tell. If you asked what came over me to write this, I could not tell you because truly I think I was in a trance because I’m not exactly a Sylus stan Yan! Sylus/Qin Che x Reader Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. CW/TW: Dub//Con touching, Manipulation, Power Imbalances, Disability issues, Unhealthy relationships, Obsessive behavior, Reader is not in-game MC but MC is referenced and reader is lowkey Longing(THEY HAVE TWO HANDS OKAY), kind of Alt! AU following the storyline

—

From the moment you were born, your life had been planned out to the end.

You would grow up, become useful, and then once you lost your usefulness; be ushered to handling petty things to earn your right to exist, and then you would die. Just like everyone else in the N-109 zone. Cremated or dissolved, of course. No one is dumb enough to leave behind evidence or traces, or even worse, parts for grave robbers with no morals and a penchant for quick gold. That was simply the circle of life here.

Your future had been set in stone as soon as your father had settled here. On some particularly trying days, you resent him for it. Other days, you know enough that he had no choice.

“Is the old man in?”

The voice makes you tense reactively before you relax, recognizing the familiar low cadence.

“He’s out on an errand, should I pass on your message?”

The leader of Onychinus and your boss by proxy, shakes his head. You didn’t bother to ask twice. Your focus once again is drawn back to the shiny red protocore on your desk. It’s a tiny thing; requiring meticulous care, lest it be shattered by too much pressure.

“Is there something I can do for you while you’re here then?”

A shuffle, then several clinks in your hearing peripheral. He must be looking through the backlog or the recent projects. It’s a habit whenever he felt restless and after some time, you learned to push down the feeling like your work was being dissected bit by bit by his intimidating eyes.

The prolonged silence makes you forget your own question, too engrossed in the protocore in front of you. When Sylus speaks again, a tremor runs though your hands and make you almost lose your grip.

“What do you think I should do with a kitten that keeps hissing at me?”

You look over with wide eyes. Of course, there can only be one thing he’s referring to–the fact that the Onychinus’s leader is in possession of a valuable asset is not a secret. An outsider, of all things, too. Some would shake their heads in pity, others would sneer and say she had only herself to blame, and even more would only care once her dead body was laid bare and the aether core in their hands.

To you, though? You thought she was amazing.

She was like the chivalrous heroes in the few scrappy picture books your father had. Dashing, fearless, and always fighting for justice. What was it like to be a hunter? You’ve never seen her, yet you daydream constantly about the life she led, and how you wished it could be yours.

“I feed some stray cats here and there. They usually warm up once they realize I’m not a threat and I’m trying to help them.” The sincere advice has him snorting in cynical disbelief.

“And if that kitty still shows their claws?” You shift uncomfortably at the way his voice dips. When he was angry, Sylus was terrifying. But he wasn’t angry, not yet, and you wish you weren’t the factor that could change that right now.

“Usually time will do its work.” You try to sound casual, but you can feel Sylus’s eyes piercing through you. You try to swallow the saliva clogging your mouth. You don’t want to imagine what kind of methods the boss would utilize to make people talk. You distanced yourself from such violence, even if it was naive and stupid to do so. Still, there was a clear difference from self-defense and actively inflicting violence. The twins that shadowed Sylus made that crystal clear.

“Hmm…if you say so.” The heavy gaze lifts off of you and it’s like a weight lifts off your throat, letting air back into your lungs.

Another few seconds pass in silence, with you praying for nothing else of note will happen.

”The old man told me that you’ll be benched soon.”

The pointed sentence makes your hands freeze. The bright gold protocurve gleams in the dim workshop, and for a moment, the blood rushing your ears is all you can hear.

“I’ve been unable to keep up with the workload, sir.” You keep your eyes firmly fixed on the ruby red core, forcing your hands to keep moving while you modify the curve. “I don’t think I can be any more help to my dad.”

Not entirely a full lie. You’re not sure if it’s because the rough and tough life of N-109 is wearing you down like sandpaper or if it’s your body collapsing in on itself due to its condition, but most days it’d be a miracle if you could get one modification done without mistakes.

One time when you were still an immature child, you disobeyed your father and snuck out of the house during dawn. Your life had always been the pitch black of night, with the brightest natural light being the moon and its silvery clouds wrapping around it like a translucent shawl. When you asked your dad what happened when you slept, he simply stated the moon also went to bed. So then, what exactly happened while it slept?

The sun was blinding. It seared you to the bone as the heat increased with the hours passing and it rose above the horizon. It was so hot, yet you could not help but feel at peace, as if the rays were cleansing you. The landscape under its light was depressing as usual; metal scraps and rusted junk scattered and embedded in dull colored dirt and rocks. This much didn’t surprise you, but it still reminded you of the bleakness of your world.

It made you feel helplessly trapped.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you talk to me?”

You blink once, then twice at Sylus standing in front of you, with an unreadable expression on his face. He had stated it as if it was common sense to bring up a grievance with him. As if he wasn’t the most terrifying power within the N-109 zone. As if you and your father weren’t subject to his whims.

”I…I’m sorry,” your eyes cast downward in guilt again. You wish your boss was as evil as some of the rumors make him out to be. It would make things so much easier. “I just didn’t think you need to be bothered with something this trivial.”

If possible, the expression on his face sours even more. “One of my researchers is not trivial. You help me, and I help you.”

You bite your tongue. Of course he was practical. It is true. Without you and your father, he would lose a quarter of his manpower in tech. But this just hardens your resolve even further.

“Thank you for your concern, sir,” you plaster a sickeningly polite smile on, straining to keep the facade of a lackey who was happy to live another day. “But it’s alright—even if I can’t directly assist my father anymore, I can find other ways to be helpful.”

Why you were significant enough as a cog in his many machinations is still plain weird. But that doesn’t matter. Soon enough, you won’t be one if at all.

Sylus gives a bark of harsh laughter, startling you and making you drop one of your tools. Your skin crawled, but you willed yourself to stay calm, to maintain a calm demeanor that belied none of your true thoughts. It had been the only thing you kept from the many street smarts of N-109 when you grew up.

He reaches out his hand. His evol wraps crimson red smoke around his outstretched fingers, and when it clears, there’s a slip of crinkled white notebook paper. Your heart immediately plummets into your stomach.

”Are you sure it’s not because you finally found an out to this hellhole?”

You hadn’t fully realized it, but you’re no longer sitting, and the next thing you know, the world has flashed into white and ringing. You’re no longer even thinking at this point, running on pure adrenaline and instinct. Sylus may be the one running the show, but even he couldn’t know all of the labyrinth of secret exits this workshop had.

You got exactly ten steps in the direction of one before your face met the concrete floor. You don’t need to look to see what’s pinning you down. It’s almost insulting, but most of all, it’s aggravating to know how close freedom was in reach, only to be stopped short of it.

“You really thought something like that could stop me?” Sylus’s voice drawls above your struggling body. You’re wrenched up to stand in front of him, arms held up like a crucified deity. He fiddles with the now broken protocore in his fingers, turning it this way and that, so that the dim lights caught the cracked grooves and threw reflections on the grungy walls around you. Finally, he drops it and with a crack, his polished shoe has grinded it to nothing. “Well, it’s certainly a novel idea.”

You don’t bother to say anything, but a sob nearly wells up, just barely held back by clenched teeth. You were so, so close. Now you’ll never know what it felt to be in bright city lights and live a normal life.

“I thought it was clear that the only place you had was by my side.” Sylus clicks his tongue, tilting his head. You’re forced forward, and then your head was buried in his shoulder as his hands found their way onto your waist, tight and unyielding. The acrid smell of gunpowder and alcohol from his ironed button up makes your nose wrinkle and although you try to turn your head away, one of his hands presses your head even closer. “I should’ve known better that you would get your hopes up when that hunter came.”

Hot breath ghosts your neck, sending goosebumps up your skin, and before you could stop him, his teeth are buried inside tender flesh, making you cry out in pain. Your struggling starts up again, but Sylus doesn’t acknowledge it, instead lathering a lithe tongue over the wound, causing pleasurable shivers up your spine.

“Then, if you want to leave so badly, how about you stay with me?” he whispers with a tenderness that makes your head spin.

No matter how much you want it, you could not fight the fate that was set for you.

#yandere love and deepspace #yandere lads #yandere lnds #my works

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pyr0-kai · 11 months

Text

Graverobber x Reader

Repo! The genetic opera HCs

I’m thinking about my stinky drug dealer man again

Platonic & romantic HCs

Feedback is appreciated

————————————————

- You’re his tag team Zydrate collector (robber)

- He has never felt genuine affection, only affection from the people in the ally who just want a zydrate hit

- He’s lived in a literal dumpster so he is sooooo excited when you offered for him to stay at your place

- When his hair is down, pls give him head scratches, he’ll love it

- Cuz he’s lived in a dumpster so long, he sleeps in a tight ball, it looks so uncomfortable.

- He knows all the best spots to hid from repo men and geneco guards

- He would empty his big jackets pockets and let you wear it >>

- He would also steal stuff from the bodies as gifts for you, stuff like rings, necklaces, jackets

- Feel like he would like to be called his name, Graves, or Babe, not a fan of stuff like sweet, or honey

- He 100% puts his feet up on tables, it’s your choice to tell him no or not

- Going with him to see shilo <3

- Shilo low key loves you, she doesn’t want to lose either of you like her family + Blind Mag

- Graves isn’t a very PDA man, but he will wrap an arm around you if people get a little too close to you

- Wrapping your arms around him when your jealous >>

- You and Amber Sweet giving each other the stink eye

#repo! the genetic opera #repo graverobber #repo!tgo #repo! the genetic opera x reader #graverrobber #graverobber x reader #repograverobber #repo graverobber x reader

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keiskake · 2 years

Text

reminisce the crimson bird (chapter one - hawks)

takami keigo x quirkless f!reader (au chilhood friends // characters are aged up 21+)

warnings ~ mentions of domestic abuse, trauma, scars/bruises, swearing, financial struggles, spoilers about hawks’ backstory from the anime

some fluff, like very little

wordcount ~1.065k

summary ~ you and takami keigo grew up together in a shitty hut with terrible parents. he disappeared one day when you were 6, but he never left your mind. the heavens entwine your destinies together, but it’s not a smooth journey you soon figure out.

a/n ~ this is my first time writing a series, super excited. there’s no schedule for when later chapters will come out, but i will try for one chapter minimum a week alongside other smaller stuff. again, there are spoilers mentioned about hawk’s past so you have been warned. thank you for reading, reblogs + likes are always appreciated.

˗ˏˋ꒰ next ꒱

nights like these make you reminisce.

city lights gleaming through the dark blanket, a cold breeze that flew threw your hair and the sound of bustling streets. it was what you were used to. it was home. your parents wasn’t what made “home” for you. it was the boy who lived in the same shitty hut as you. the boy with soft, crimson wings, and a gentle smile that hid his pain. the boy who always held your hand wherever you two went. the one who was by your side.

keigo. kei was his name. his father was a serial robber and murderer. he was always on the run from the police and heroes, dragging his family along with him. your father was his accomplice, and in order to hide themselves they put their families in a brittle hut which barely held the 6 of you. both mothers were full of fear and panic, while the fathers were full of malice and evil. you only had each other, but that was all you needed.

it was you and kei against the world. you were told strictly not to leave the house, either of you. so most days were spent playing in the one bedroom in the house or watching the tv when it occasionally turned on. keigo wanted to be a hero, it was all he dreamed of. he told you every night that he wanted to make a better place for us, to make his mother feel safe and for us to live a life of freedom. he admired all might and endeavour. you admired him.

the hope you both held wasn’t enough to ignore the pain that echoed in that house. the beatings of you and kei happened more than regularly, being told off for leaving the house or simply being born. the scars and bruises you were painted with were a reminder of your imprisonment as the child of a villain. it daunted you two. how could the children of villains be heroes? how could the children of villains be free?

there was a time that you and kei were happy. few times, but precious times. kei was agitated staying at home all the time at the command of his father, so he begged his mother to take us outside. she was reluctant, knowing the grave consequences that it could bring. but she couldn't bear the whining kei gave her for a whole hour. so she snuck us out to the supermarket, it was as good as an amusement park to the both of us. we walked down aisles, hand in hand, admiring every item on the shelf in every aisle. kei pulled me over to the cart of plushies by the wall, pointing at the all might plushies. he looked at his mother, eyes pleading for one.

“we can get endeavour, all might is too expensive” she murmured, picking up two 500 yen endeavour dolls and giving it to kei. his eyes beamed, the same way they did whilst watching heroes fight on the tv. he smiled and gave one to you, a matching one. it was the only toy you and kei had every gotten. when you two arrived home, you played heroes and villain. it was a magical afternoon full of bliss and innocence. as you played joyfully, the sky turned dark and the city lights illuminated the dark blue sky. you both sat on the grass, losing yourselves in the beautiful evening. he nudged your shoulder gently and placed his hand out in front of you, opened and flat. in his palm was a hair clip made of his feathers. crimson red, your favourite colour. you thanked him, eyes glistening like stars in the night sky and slipping the clip on the side of your hair. and that was the last happy memory you could recall.

your father had finally been caught. you and your mother were running, trying to disconnect yourself from your father’s crimes. pants of breathlessness and fear suffocated the air around you two. you spent hours huddled in a bush, waiting for the area to clear from police and heroes. when the commotion was over your mother dragged you back to the hut, but he was gone. everyone was gone. you searched every nook and cranny for kei. calling out his name, running up and down the hallway, tears unravelling from the uncertainty of kei’s whereabouts.

where were you kei?

you and your mother struggled to make ends meet. you never knew when the next meal was or if you’d still have electricity that day. she juggled three jobs to put you through school. it was her way of apologising for your early childhood, but she knew that every time you looked at that endeavour plushie you thought of him. the only friend you ever knew.

despite your rough start in life, you came out pretty decent. finished school with flying colours and secured a job to help support you and your mother. you worked at a little café on the side of a busy main road, making drinks and serving cakes and sandwiches. you were a little social butterfly, so the job was made for you. you knew how to make a customers day, giving a bright smile, remembering regular drink orders or even cracking a joke. you wanted forgive and forget. you wanted to start a new chapter. but you couldn’t.

you never fail to think about kei. every night an ocean of questions crashed your mind disrupting your sleep. what happened to him? where did he go? did he get caught with his father? is he alive? if he’s out there does he remember you, is he looking for you? your heart ached, knowing that void would never be filled until kei came back into your life or his disappearance was covered in the news.

you stare out the window. car lights flashing, city buildings shining from a distance and the moon watching over you. maybe it was watching over kei. and if it was, you prayed it was protecting him and keeping him safe. another breeze flew in the crack of your window, brushing against your hair. you took out your crimson red feather clip, laid your head down and closed your eyes. hoping. hoping he was safe. hoping you’d meet once again.

i hope to see you again kei.

#keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x y/n #mha x reader #bnha x fem!reader #bnha x reader #hawks #keigo #hawks series #hawks fluff #fluff #keigo fluff

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homicidal-slvt · 1 year

Text

Blue-Eyed Snake {Pt. 3}

MDNI

Part 1 | Part 2

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Civilian|Y/N

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt + Comfort, Injury Mention, Mildly Suggestive

You just couldn't help the way you were pulled towards the man and he felt the same.

He felt as though this was something he couldn't- shouldn't have. Yet here you were looking so perfect seated in his living room, thumbing through one of his books.

You couldn't resist teasing him about his taste.

"Do you not have any interesting books? Just hunting books and dull shit?"

He chuckled and ruffled your hair, earning a gasp and playful swat from your hand.

"Those books are important. I don't need any of those fantasy books like you have in your house, darlin'."

You rolled your eyes and then he got that cocky little smirk of his.

"Though I must admit- there was one with some interesting parts in it."

You flush red realizing he must of discovered your smutty book. You were convinced he wouldn't really go through them.

Of course the man was curious as all hell... You both had at least that in common.

"Shut up."

It was a weak retort and you knew it but how else should you respond to that. His laugh was ridiculously infectious though- damn it Phillip.

I'm trying to be mad

You thought with a huff biting back the trembles of laughter tumbling out of you.

Ah yes- that shit eating grin of his was back. He never failed to adore how he made you laugh even when you tried to pretend to be mad.

••

There was a certain weight in the air that was different as he stood in your homes entryway, blue eyes settled on you as you gazed back at him.

A current threatening to drag you under.

"I'll take you on a proper date when I get back, yeah?"

"Is that a promise?"

He stepped closer placing his finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up he leaned in.

Breath caught in your throat and eyes fluttering shut, he gave you the gentlest kiss he ever has. Revelling in how your lips fit with his, he'd do whatever he could to take that pained look from your expression.

Hesitantly he knew he had to go, pulling back he breathed out ever so softly and sincerely, words he intended to keep.

"It's a god damn guarantee, doll."

Of course it wasn't something he could truly for sure say but he was too stubborn to admit that to himself.

••

It was going on 7 months at this point.

Your home never felt more empty and cold, before Phillip you didn't mind the quiet but now all it did was torment your mind.

He's not coming back.

That thought made you ache, oh how you wished he'd just walk through that door again. Prove those nagging feelings wrong.

It was a guarantee- a guarantee he would come home to you.

You knew it was foolish to believe him- believe in that idea.

What's even worse was that bubbling anger, how could he steal your heart like this? Take it straight from your chest and leave with it.

A hold remaining within that you tried to fill with work and hobbies, none of which amounted to that teasing banter you had grown so fond of.

What you wouldn't give to just hear that southern drawl again, that voice that as time went on grew more distant in the back of your head.

You were torn between the thoughts of how it would be easier to forget and wanting so desperately for it to never fade.

••

It was late and you passed out asleep on the couch watching TV again, a knock made you jolt awake quite frankly rather startled.

Annoyed and rubbing at your eyes- who the hell would be here at this time of night? A robber? A serial killer?

Carefully you made your way to the door trying to be quiet, peeking out the peep hole you spotted a familiar form and your heart stopped.

Am I still asleep?

You felt as though you were being deceived somehow.

"Phillip...?"

"I'm back, doll."

No further thought was put in as you flung open the door, diving into his arms right there in the dark on your porch, not even bothering to take a better look at him first- you just needed to feel him.

He tugged you closer to his chest and sucked in a harsh breath, it was clear the moment he was back he came to see you.

He moved to shuffle you into the house, shutting the door behind both of you. Your eyes finally landed on his face, his adoring blue eyes were the same...

However there were burn scars covering over half his face, it was clear he still had some healing to do as well.

"How bout' that date tomorrow?"

You were snapped out of your thoughts and couldn't help but chuckle, of course he remembered that and was even smiling. As if he hadn't been gone so long and had a near death experience.

Truly though- holding you and going back to how things were was his way of coping with it all. His main fear was leaving you here- not even being able to give you any closure. Nothing.

That little taste of near death truly made him appreciate everything all that more, he couldn't waste any of this. He was gifted you by the world and he couldn't let that slip away.

Not when the only thought on his mind was you the whole time he was teetering on the edge.

"I'd love to go to that cafe in town."

"Course darlin'."

{I was initially going to do a sad ending but I couldn't do that to y'all.}

{Similar fics by @sarahs-secrets2 }

{@sofasoap }

{More Content}

#phillip graves fluff #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #phillip graves #graves cod #cod graves #cod mw2 x you #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #mw2 #mw2 graves #mw2 x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #cod fluff #mw2 fluff #cod mw2 fluff #vee's cod works

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charcadett · 2 years

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hi!! ok so i was the person who requested the larry x reader hcs where they were too anxious to confess n had a cofagrigus and aegislash. so basically.. i’m back to send in another request 🤭 i absolutely LOVE ur work and ngl i reread some of it often.. but anyways!!

i was thinking about doin another hcs request for larry, but i changed my mind. going with hassel!! anyways, reader has a cofagrigus (of course <3) and when hassel comes home (from teacher stuff n elite four things) the reader isn’t home, just their cofagrigus. mayhaps he gets worried for them n all that only to find out that they were taking a nap inside cofagrigus.. hehe idk where i got this idea i just thought it would be silly

and again, i love ur work!!! i always look forward to any new stuff you make ^_^

WAAAH WELCOME BACK IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT!!! This is such a funny scenario and I think Hassel is the perfect guy to do this for. And not because I’m totally rabid for him ahaha.. Honestly, I’ve never had really strong feelings for Cofagrigus but doing this request has made me a total fan.

Hassel Catching His SO Asleep Inside Their Cofagrigus

- Hassel returns home later than usual. He was at the academy late helping a few of his students with their art projects, then ended up having to drop by the league because he forgot his favorite coffee mug in the break room. By the time he steps through the door, the sun has set and he’s trying to scrub the sleep out of his eyes with his knuckle. Despite this, and as always, he is excited to see you. One of Hassel’s favorite parts of the day is once night has fallen, the two of you sharing a cup of tea, while you share stories of your day with each other.

- Except he can’t find you. He checks the kitchen, then your bedroom, and finally, with a cursory knock, he checks the bathroom. Before he allows himself to worry, Hassel looks through his phone to see if he’s missed a text from you, and when he doesn’t see it, his heart drops into his stomach. He knows he shouldn’t be so anxious. You’re an adult and you’re welcome to come and go as you please, but it’s late and you usually let him know if you’ll be gone before he’s home.

- Trying to calm his frantic heart, Hassel decides to call you. It takes two rings to realize he can hear your phone ringing in tandem somewhere in the house. At first, he feels a little nauseous. It doesn’t bode well if you’re out in the middle of the night, with no way for anyone to contact you. What if you get lost? Or hurt? Hassel takes a deep breath and follows the ringing to its source. Only two more calls, and he finds himself standing in front of your grinning Cofagrigus with his hands on his hips.

- “Would you happen to know where your trainer is?” He asks before your half-asleep form is sent tumbling out of Cofagrigus, accompanied by a loud belch from said Pokemon.

- It’s said that Cofagrigus turns unsuspecting grave robbers into mummies, trapping them within it forever. You, however, are not a grave robber. You came to find a few years after you began training your Cofagrigus that the inside of your beloved Pokemon is a great place for a nap. It’s warm, safe, dark, and silent. Admittedly, you can’t deny how funny it is to see people's reactions when they see you step out of your big bad Cofragrigus with a grin, somehow not mummified. Hassel is not an exception to this. His mouth is agape, eyes wide, as he takes a step to catch you. He can barely get a question out between baffled vocalizations and your laughter.

- You invite Hasel to join you next time. It’s comfortable in there. He politely rejects your offer when he sees your Cofagrigus' grin widen, almost daring him to. The man can’t catch a break. Both you and your Pokemon are messing with him at once. At least now he knows where you’ll be if he can’t find you again.

#pokemon x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon headcanons #elite four hassel x reader #hassel x reader #anon who single-handedly made me a cofagrigus stan #when i finally get around to playing bw and b2w2 ill have one on my team i think

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run2min · 8 months

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SYNOPSIS! Have you ever spoken to Sunghoon? No. Will you ever muster up the courage to speak to him? Probably not. But that’s not going to stop you from admiring him from afar is it? Unknowingly to you, Sunghoon has been admiring you too, will you ever talk to him? That’s for you to find out ;)

GENRE! Basketball player!hoon x artist fem!reader, collage au, strangers to lovers, Sunghoon is so down bad

CAUTION! inappropriate jokes, cursing, a little suggestive, more to be added

TAGLIST! @nyfwyeonjun @sincerelyrki @woninluv

₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹ PROFILES TWO || grave robbers -Yuj because she’s on a ‘social media detox’ 🤢🙅‍♂️🙅‍♀️

y/n

@/ynnieandrenjun || an art and literature student at deciles college, has an unhealthy obsession with nct dream and AESPA (…you get it?), her friends say they’re sick of her but THEY ARE they love her really!!

@/yizhouyn || where yn lets out her AESPA and Renjun love 😜 (where Sunghoon can’t see and think she’s mad (she is mad)), rants about the was Sunghoon looked at her in the corridor and gets told she’s dellulu by her no.1 hater very good friend sunoo.

niki || jungwon

@/rizzmasterriki || …. niki. he’s…. well….. he’s niki.

@/yangarden || the absolute cutest person ever but likes to say he hates everyone, definitely has a soft spot for you though, always lets you do whatever you want TT

sunoo || yunjin

@/sunkkoo || ynsung no.1 hater, likes to bully niki, everyone loves him, is obsessed with the word coquette, called his inhaler coquette the other day…

@/huhitsyunjin || sunoo’s partner in crime, they go everywhere together, secretly supports ynsung, makes hating men her entire personality (she’s so real for that though honestly)

eunchae || yujin

@/eunlols || her bio doesn’t lie…. her and Niki are the same person in different bodies, chronically online, uses the phrase ‘i gyatt something in my eye’ more than acceptable

@/jinyu || cannot make it through a conversation without mentioning the ‘minatozaki stare’, genuinely in love with sana, knows twice’s entire discography, on a social media detox… (aka tired of her friends shit), boys are always messaging her but she’s with yujin on the whole hating men front, swears she’s straight tho!!!

wonyoung || rei

@/wonyoungism || head of the photography club, a lot of people try to date her but she’s very independent in that sense, on the other hand she cannot go anywhere without rei TT, one of the nicest people ever.

@/reisin || opposite to wonyoung in the way that she’s a haterrr, finds everything funny, bullies android users on roblox voice chat with eunchae and niki

previous | masterlist | next

#run2min #park sunghoon #sunghoon suggestive #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon oneshot #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon smau #sunghoon social media au #enhypen smau #enhypen social media au

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ozzgin · 5 days

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Week 1: Inktober doodles ft. Yandere School and Yuugiri (Naga); Monstertober: Local Folklore (Surprise Romanian Guest), Artificial Intelligence (Internet Monster), Deep Sea?; Yantober: Homemade meal ft. undecided

Week 2: Inktober doodle ft. grumpy dragon boyfriend; Monstertober: Devilish Charm ft. Zzy, Patchwork ft. Deer Monster

Week 3: Monstertober: Mating Season ft. Lion/Tiger Hybrid; Vampire Clown; Undead x Grave Robber!Reader

Week 4: Grumpy Dragon Boyfriend; Yantober: Aftercare ft. Yandere!Circus; Yuugiri (Naga) smut

Week 5: Monstertober: Alien ft. Xenomorph and Surprise Hotel Guest; Slasher x Reader, Dullahan x Reader

Alright everyone, this is what I gathered so far from your requests and my drafts. Some are done, some are planned. Keep in mind these are all short snippets or doodles, as I sadly don't have the time for anything more complex. :')

Someone asked me how writing requests work: it can be anything yandere/monster/Halloween related, whether it's smut, fluff, horror, or something silly. If you want, you can use my own prompts for reference. Pick a prompt and a character, if you find this to be the easier way of doing it.

Other examples of requests I've gotten so far: "I'd love to see more of X character"; "How about this Halloween scenario?"; "Have you ever considered x type of monster?"; "Here's a fun fact, do whatever you wish with this information".

The requests are, of course, still open. I just wanted to give you a quick preview! <3

#ozztober #pumpkin assistant #personal #doodle

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triplesilverstar · 11 months

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Day 27

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Mummy Wolfwood X F!Reader

CW: Groping, Gunplay, grinding, clothes ripping, penetrative sex, squirting, penis in vagina sex, dub con, life sucking, death by snoo snoo

Word count: 1209

A/N: Day 27, You wanted to make a quick buck. Too bad for you, you picked a site with built in security.

When the brace keeping the sand from falling collapsed you groaned, so much for a quick in and out to grab some artifacts and take off into the night.

Grabbing your flashlight you headed deeper into the hidden pyramid, flashing your light this way and that. The rumor was that the excavation into the newly discovered site had run afoul of some kind of boogeyman. Superstitious nonsense as far as you were concerned.

Turning a corner the beam of light from your flashlight illuminated what looked like a bunch of old rags. Old rags that were moving. Shit! It was something that was alive. Dropping your flashlight and drawing both of your pistols and firing as you started to walk backwards, back the way you had come in. If you had to dig your way out of this you would, no amount of treasure would be worth this.

The rag thing was still coming.

Pulling the trigger and all you heard was a click. The same from the other one.

You. Are going to die and nothing can be done to save you. So much for making an easy buck.

Turning and getting ready to run, with your flashlight on the floor you missed the debris lining the ground. Tripping and landing on your hands with an oomph, what a sad way to go.

The thing after you grabs your ankle and drags you backward, turning you over and you find yourself looking upwards.

It.

It looks like a mummy. One of those bad movie ones where it’s the man just wrapped up in bandages. Is some asshole just playing a prank with the site to see how many would-be grave robbers they could scare the daylights out of?

“Look pal, nice joke b-” You're cut off when it screams in your face, leaning down over your body and grabbing both of your hands in its single one. The other hand grabbing your chest, before letting out a short noise of surprise. The grip on your wrists never relents, but the thing seems to have just realized something.

You’re a female.

Taking great handfuls of your chest and squeezing, the thing seems to like the noises you’re making as it gropes you. Letting it’s hand wander downwards and over one of your holsters. You find yourself swallowing as you break out into a cold sweat, you heard a click signaling both pistols were empty. They were empty right?

Tugging one of them free you hear the thing grunt, before the cold barrel of the gun is rubbing between the apex of your thighs. You gasp, feeling the coolness from the metal as it starts to seep inwards through the fabric around your lower half. It’s strangely arousing to think of one of your own guns being used that way, but you still have no idea what this creature is or if it isn’t just one of the locals trying to get a laugh.

You don’t really have the time to think about it, as the metal is pressed harder against your body making your hips jerk in response. A low rumble from the thing and the pressure is gone, only for the sound of ripping fabric reaches your ears as cool air is sweeping in along the newly revealed skin of your thighs.

Just how damn strong was this thing? It ripped your pants and underwear with just its fingers?

You try not to, but you end up letting out a pitiful moan when the cold barrel of your pistol is pressed against your damp folds. Maybe it’s been a while or maybe something else is going on in your head, but you just keep moaning as the thing slides your gun between your legs. A whimper, feeling the muzzle and foresight pressing against your entrance before starting to breach you.

The thing, based on its grunts, seems to be enjoying this as well and if you weren’t so invested in chasing your own high you might have noticed some of the wrappings coming undone.

At this point all you can focus on is the feeling your slick channel being filled by the cold metal, panting as you try to keep yourself from coming undone. At some point your eyes closed, not that it makes much of a difference since all you could see was the dim shadows cast around both of your bodies from the dropped flashlight. At the sensation of rough skin hitting the inside of your thigh you can’t hold back anymore, screaming as you squirt over the gun deep inside your pussy and the hand pressed against your folds with your head thrown back.

As your body arches with your eyes slammed shut a haze seems to almost float from your body to the being pinning you to the ground. Eyes glowing a vivid red in the darkness, as desiccated tissue plumps up, the moisture returning to shriveled up organs. The leathery skin smoothing out from the absorption of your life force, returning it to the state it had been in a millennium ago when it was a sunkissed bronze a few patches visible from the loosening bandages.

Still panting as the gun is removed from your core, the thud of it being tossed to the ground ringing in your ears. Feeling tired for reasons you don’t understand, struggling once more as a set of chapped lips slide over yours, before pulling away.

The thing is talking, and you have no idea what it’s saying to you, only that the voice reminds you of lazy afternoons sitting in the shade while the sun reigns down its fury on those out unprotected. Moaning as it seems to be speaking against the shell of your ear and you feel something far more flesh like pressing to your soaked pussy. All you can do is gasp as it enters you, hot and heavy filling you to the brim before your noises are swallowed by those same lips sliding over yours once more. It doesn’t take as long before you come again, this time around the length buried in your core and feeling it paint your insides with its own release.

Feeling weaker after your second orgasm, it, no he doesn’t need to hold your hands anymore, too exhausted to even lift your fingers from the sand beneath them. You can feel him move, leaning backwards but he doesn’t remove himself from your body as a brightness fills your vision for a moment before your eyes adjust.

The thing, is a man and he looks more like a god then the thing you had been shooting out. The bandages that had been wrapped around his body falling away to reveal the toned nature of his form, and his rich dark hair. What truly draws you in though are his eyes, like jet black gem stones in a face that had to have been carved by god.

He’s speaking again in a language you still don’t understand, gasturing between the two of you.

Another round later and he looks even healthier, and it dawns on you at last, he’s sucking your soul out to revive himself. Well… at least it’s better than dying by suffocation in the sand filled tomb.

Back to List

#trigun smut #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader smut #nicholas d. wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood smut #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #twink writes #31 days of monsters #wolfwood x reader #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #trigun maximum #Trimax #Mummy Wolfwood

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the-whispers-of-death · 6 months

Note

i need more serial killer stone x vigilant reader pls

This was the first part. Note that some time has passed since your first meeting.

Serial Killer!Stone and you had crossed paths more than once after your first meeting, teamed up a few times when you both were in the same vicinity. He wanted to kill every criminal you two came into contact with, but you managed to stop him a few times.

Despite having killed a robber on your first day, you were adamant that vigilantism could be done with killing criminals. You could apprehend them and leave them to the police to arrest them. Stone had a different opinion, since he held the belief that the justice system was corrupt.

Still, you two worked well together despite your differing opinions. It was like you two knew each other very well, except you barely knew Stone's actual name or if he had any family.

That was why when you saw him ducking into a cemetery late at night, you decided to follow him. You were a few paces behind him, watching every turn he took until he stood in front of a grave.

You tried your best to see the name on the grave, but you couldn't. You were too far away and moving closer would potentially make him aware of your presence.

"I know you followed me here, your footsteps are rather loud to me," Stone said, breaking whatever illusion you had about being stealthy enough to fool him. "So, come closer."

"I didn't mean to pry," you murmured, walking closer until you two stood side by side. You could now see the name on the gravestone.

Ashok "Kali" Manish Kumar, 1989-2018.

You stared at the gravestone, memorizing the name. The grave looked well-cared for, a week-old bouquet of flowers placed on it, flowers that were carefully replaced by the flowers Stone had in his own hands. It seemed like whoever this Kali was, he and Stone had been close.

Stone spoke after a few beats of silence.

"He was my boyfriend, he was going to be my fiancé," he answered your unspoken question. "He was on his way to our favorite restaurant to meet me and pop the question when he passed by an alley and got pulled in by an opportunistic robber. The police told me he fought back as best as he could and the robber gutted him in response. Took everything in his wallet and even the engagement ring, I only know he was going to propose because I found the receipt for the ring when I was sorting out his valuables in our house."

You took in the information, sorrow settling in your bones for what Stone went through. "I'm sorry for your loss. Did they find who killed him?" you asked, your voice soft.

Stone's hands rolled up into fists. "They did, but the killer got acquitted. The DA told me that they were thinking the judge was corrupt, but they had no hard evidence of corruption. So my love's killer walked free."

"Until you killed him," you said, realizing that this was why Stone turned to vigilantism.

"The bastard was already robbing some other poor person when I found him, I did what I had to do," Stone growled out, feeling no remorse for what he had done.

Your words died down in your throat. He certainly felt he was justified, nothing was going to change that. Even though he kills, he was making a difference. Crime was at an all-time low and no major crime organizations could gain a footing in the city because Stone was always there to cut the legs of their foundation off.

So you two stayed in front of the grave, silent. Perhaps you shouldn't judge him for his opinions.

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