#the executioner x you

[fishyvamp]

“make me small”

Dead by Daylight Pairings: The Executioner X GN!killer!reader Rating: M | Mature | NSFW 18+ Word count: 1.5k+ CW: degradation, heavy consensual violence, light fingering, sub!reader, monster fuckery, choking, denial, subspace, thigh fucking Summary: You're pent up and need someone to put you in your place.

The rage feels like fire in your veins as you stalk through the dark fog, Knives along your chest feeling just a bit too heavy. The dark voice inside you purred and praised you for your good work. You felt too big, as if the space inside you wasn’t enough to contain the fire that threatened to spill out and burn everything in its path. Mindlessly you had found yourself in front of Midwich, the elementary school decrepit and falling apart even if it was in better shape out of trials. You rolled your shoulders, the realization whispering exactly what you needed, Him. 

Mind singularly focused, you stormed in growling lowly clothes still soaked in blood from the trials. You could tell He had visitors. You’ll just chase them off, tell them to find somewhere else to loiter. Someone else to waste their time with.

Pyramid head sitting down, sharpening his blade, on a chair comically small compared to his mass frame. Head tilting upwards instantly knowing why you were here. The room feels colder, his visitors bolting from the room, the legion members jumping windows and fleeing. You did wonder why they were here, but the thought vanished the moment the large man stood up jamming his blade into the floorboards before approaching you with heavy boots thumping with each step. 

Your eyes are wild as you look up feeling ready to explode. The Executioner was unphased by your posture, everything at this moment was routine. When you first arrived no one would go near you. The blood lust built up after each trial with no downtime, no way to get it out, and no real release like you had in your world, the rage lashing and attacking anything that spoke or so much as moved in your direction.

The only one who made any headway in calming you was Him. He pushed you harshly against the wall, a massive hand drifting up your throat, and pressing harshly, you gasped for air, but you didn’t fight. You never did, but the lack of oxygen brought a warm fuzzy feeling in your head that had your eyes fluttering, “Tell me what you need.” he growled, voice echoing in the steel frame.

“I’m too big,” you grunt, “make me small.” the words would almost be a plea if your face wasn’t twister anger, and rage. You can hear a huff echoing against the steel, the clock tower chimes air raid horn going off, the pound of the bell loud and clear shaking the school, echoing in your chest. ”Beg,” his voice low and breathy. Your skin prickles as a shiver overtakes you.

You close your eyes focusing on your breathing, on your heart, on the way the cold air of the destroyed classroom felt. “Please…” you speak softly, your body relaxing, he presses into you harder. It’s like he wants to crush you. “Please what?” He demands squeezing your throat tighter. “Please, use me. Fuck me. Crush me, choke me. Just please remind me of my place.” You look up desperate, eyes half-closed as you struggle to breathe. “Where is your place?” he asks, loosening his grip just ever so slightly.

“Under you,” you manage to breathe out. Your core clenches hearing him laugh, grabbing you by the throat and slamming you onto the teacher's desk. You watch as he removes his frame a black dripping shapeless void where his head should be, glowing white eyes, a long tongue flicking around wildly trapped in his mouth with teeth too sharp to be human. The large man grabs your thighs pulling them apart just so he can grind into you feeling the heat of your sex it has him throwing his head back groaning. 

“This what you want?” He growls leaning forward, elbows resting on the creaking wood, caging you to the desk. You nod your head silently, craning your neck to look at where his eyes should be. “This all you good for.” he hisses as if this very request offended him. His hips grind harder, one hand supporting your back while he rough grips the back of your skull. “Just a nasty whore.” Your eyes close softly, gasping for breath you focus on the way his clothed cock rubs against you. The way it nudges against your sex. Grinding through the very fabric that separated the two of you.

“Sinful,” Pyramid head gunts slamming your hips together. His tongue coaxed your mouth open pushing in, wet appendage filling your throat, you gag and buck. Eyes watering as you try to swallow all of him. Desperate to please him. Desperate to make today the day he finally fills you with that heavy cock.

The Executioner purs feeling you choke on his tongue, exploring deep inside you stopping before he tastes the acid of your stomach. He enjoys the way you struggle to breathe with him inside you. The tasty feeling of you fighting yourself not to try and get him off of you. He enjoyed the conflict that rooted itself inside you. He enjoyed the way that bloodthirsty monster inside you fades the more he forces you down. Forces you to take him and everything he gives you. The giant man twists and curls his tongue inside you, the appendage curling up and bulging in your throat. His gaze was intense as he glowered down at you. Watching you try to claw at him, try to breathe, everything about you desperate.

He pulls out of you softly. Chuckling at you, watching you gasp for breath tears staining the corners of your eyes. Beautiful, he thinks flipping you onto your stomach and yanking your pants down just enough to expose that pretty ass for him. His fingers dipped down to trace your hole pressing in slightly as he just shook his head. He can feel that you’re trying, that you want this, but not yet. 

You whine feeling him press a thick finger into you curling and twisting hitting your sweet spot having you arch your back mewling loudly, desperately clawing at the desk struggling to find purchase anywhere. “Quiet,” he growls, pressing your head into the desk. Large hand pressing almost painfully down, You can hear him shifting fabric before a heavy cock finds its way to the curve of your ass gliding between your cheeks. Slow and gentle, your mind focuses solely on the feeling as you try to lift it.

“Please,” you whine, face tight as you fight your body trying to not come off as pathetic as you feel. “Please,” you repeat. He leans forward pressing you down with a large hand still pinning your face harshly against the desk. “No,” you moan, feeling the way his voice rumbles against his back. 

“Not this time.” His fingers leave your hole, making you whine in discomfort from not being filled anymore. you have to bite your lip to stop the desperate sobs that threaten to escape. The beast shifted once more, pressing himself between your thighs. “Be good and squeeze for me.” he hisses thrusting slowly pre cum lubing between your thighs as he moves slowly groaning darkly as his hips move. His long tongue falls out feeling you press your thighs together tightly. Sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. You need this, you need him. You could feel your empty hole twitching desperate for more than the finger that has long left it.

Pyramid head just chuckles, his hips moving at a steady pace, the cock was easily the size of your forearm, you didn’t care if it wouldn’t fit, you still wanted it, still wanted to feel it burn as it stretched you. Still wanted to have it split you open like the needy whore you were. You just had to settle with feeling as it rubbed against your sex. Your juices leaked onto it as he continued to thigh fuck you. “Please,” you were starting to feel like a broken record. He picks your head up slamming into the desk, pain blooming from your head. “No!” he growls, moving faster, cock twitching between your thighs. 

“You listen the first time I tell you.” His words were dark, the world spinning. That actually fuckin hurt. You gasp for breath feeling him falter. He must be close, the thought all but confirmed as you are yanked off the desk and forced to the floor the cock inches from your face. A thick hand frantically stroking the cock while the other held you in place. You look up, tongue falling out as you anticipate what he wants you to do cum splashing on your face as he covers you with his spend.

It doesn't take long before he pulls against his groin, growling at you, “clean your mess up whore.” He speaks in such a dark and low tone you can feel it vibrating down your spine. You look up, eyes half-lidded as you begin to lick the softening shaft. The Executioner groans as you work your magic. This was just the start of a very long night. You were completely feral when you came in and no doubt would need a lot to silence that pesky voice in your head. He'll take his time, and you'll enjoy every second of it.

[morwap]

I just ask for some Pyramid head smut. That man makes me SO weak 🙏🙏🙏

dbd setting!! he has like a tentacle tongue thing???

he stretched you out, no matter how many times you two did this you never got used to it. he was so big in every sense of the word, you didn’t know how it fit at first and at this point you just stopped wondering.

you tried to open your legs wider for him, the growls came from him seemed to be pleased with you trying to help.

the cold from the desks he had pushed together gave you goosebumps. your fingers circled around your clit as your cunt struggled around his cock.

you closed your eyes for a second, you felt his cold tongue lick up your thigh as he thrusted into you. you opened your else and he let out a purr, glad he caught your attention.

the executioner’s tongue licked at your clit once you moved your fingers for a moment then he licked up your body.

his gloved hands pushed your legs to your chest as he got rough, making the desks shake and his knife that he rested against a few desks beside you.

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober - Day 7 (Judgment)

Pyramid Head x Male!reader

Your heart pounds in your chest as you run as fast as you possibly can. Your chest tightens as your lungs burn, pushing back all pain to the back of your mind as you try to escape the monster that wants you dead.

A man with a pyramid for a head.

A low growl rumbles in the creature's chest as it closes in on you. Its massive strides closing the distance between you two. Each step it takes shakes the ground beneath you.

You should've gone with James. You should've stayed where you were. You should've...

A gasp leaves your mouth as you stumble on a crack in the ground, and despite regaining your balance quickly, you glance behind you to see that the beast is right behind you

It raises its great knife, preparing to strike you down like the countless souls before you. It swings its arm back, ready to slice your body into two pieces.

Screaming, you duck down and hear a loud whoosh as the blade cuts through the air above your head. Your ears ring from the force of the blade slamming against the lamppost beside you. The post creaks under the pressure before breaking apart.

You take the moment to make some distance, your heart skipping a beat as you realize how close death was to claiming you.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Your voice cracks as you shout at the top of your lungs. Fear courses through your veins like electricity, making each breath feel like daggers slicing through your throat. Your heart races faster than it ever did before. Every beat feels like a explosion in your eardrums. Sweat drips down your forehead and pools in your neck, staining your shirt.

You take a sharp turn into an alleyway, sprinting towards the end of it, but as you reach the end, you find yourself staring at a dead end. Panic sets in as you realize that there's nowhere else to run. Your pulse quickens even more as adrenaline surges through your veins.

You're trapped like a rat.

You hear its stomping as the monster catches up to you, trapping your only way out. It looms over you with its massive frame, casting a shadow over your small form.

You take one step back, then another, and then a few more until your back hits the wall.

Its 'head' tilts slightly as it studies you, as if expecting something from you.

Then again, maybe it is simply waiting for you to break down. To beg for mercy.

James.... I'm sorry. I hope you find your wife.

And with that final thought, it closes the gap swiftly, moving far quicker than you imagined a beast that size could move.

Before you can react, a large hand wraps around your throat, squeezing tightly against your windpipe. Your nails dig into its forearm as you attempt to pry it away from you. But it's like trying to move a mountain.

You immediately stop struggling as it presses the end of the blade's handle against your stomach, almost as if warning you. Struggling to draw in air, you and the monster stare at each other.

Minutes pass, and even though it hasn't moved or loosened its grip around your throat, it remains completely still.

Then suddenly, it pulls away slightly, raising its massive blade.

With dread settling in your stomach like lead, you squeeze your eyes shut.

...but nothing happens. No pain. No death.

Instead of feeling the searing agony of steel cutting through flesh, you hear a metallic thud followed by a low rumble. Cracking open your eyelids slightly, you notice that it had thrust its blade into the ground beside it.

It watches you closely for several tense seconds before slowly reaching out to touch you with its hand.

You instinctively try to pull away from its touch, but its grip on your throat tightens slightly, holding you in place as its fingers trace lightly across your chest.

As its hand continues to travel further down your body, you again try to struggle against his grip. It doesn't try to correct your behavior. Not that it needed to.

Your breath hitches in your throat as its hand slides under your shirt. Its burning touch sends a wave of unease through your body, threatening to engulf you fully like fire.

Maybe you'll spontaneously combust and be free from this.

Whatever it was searching for, it seemed to have found it as its hand begins tracing over the jagged scar that runs under your left breast as if trying to reopen it. You wince in pain as its rough touch irritates the sensitive tissue surrounding the old wound.

After a few moments, its hand shifts over to the matching scar under your right breast. Its touch lingers longer here compared to the last one, almost tenderly caressing the marred flesh before pulling away suddenly.

Withdrawing its blade from the ground, it turns away and starts to walk out of the alleyway. Yet instead of releasing you, it drags you along by the neck. Its coarse hands digging into your skin uncomfortably.

"Let go of me," you choke out between coughs, attempting to pry its hand loose from around your throat. Although it doesn't seem interested in releasing you anytime soon.

You frantically try to dig your heels into the ground in an attempt to slow it down, but the behemoth seemed unfazed. As you finally stop resisting, one thought throbs through your head...

Where was it taking you?

Scumtober 2024 Masterlist

[enchantedflameandflower]

IT’S TIME TO GET NAKEY!

My lord I could ride him in that bathtub for hours I swear, just let me try… THAT LEG MY GOD

Slippin’ and ridin’ and sliding’ his huge hands all over you while he looks like this, all blissed out by the way you feel, made just for him.

Who thinks he’s naked in this tub, raise your hand 🫠

[pettyprocrastination]

The Deathly Devout

Pairing: Executioner!König x Nun!Reader (Medieval au) 

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Religious themes and settings, talk of death, religious guilt, nothing much this is pretty tame. I have very little knowledge of how catholic confessionals actually go especially in a medieval setting forgive me. probably many spelling errors im sorry. 

Author’s Note: was talking to @thesadvampire about @hffhifjou fucking amazing art of the 141 as knights and now we have Executioner!König. This is mostly just a word burst from this morning but I really like this concept and wanted to share with you all 

Tagging some mutuals I think might enjoy this: @sprout-fics @humanransome-note @moondirti @fnny-bnny @yeehaw-djarin @captainsamwlsn

_______________--

     It was quite amusing to see the executioner in the confessional booth. 

     That isn’t to say that he doesn’t visit often, no. If anything it’s the exact opposite, Father Montomgery sees him more than any pious banker or self-hating gambler in the city. But the man was monstrous, broad in his shoulders with thick arms and legs to match, resulting in him having to twist and fold his body to properly fit into the little wooden booth. He could see the silhouette of the poor man’s shoulders hunched in and head tucked low. 

     It almost made up for how absolutely aggravating he was to listen to. 

     “Forgive me father for I have sinned.” 

     “May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you know your sins and trust in his mercy.” 

     König swallows. 

     “I killed a man this week.” 

     The priest, knowing this voice better than others and the hulking silhouette it belongs to, sighs. 

     “The thief, then?” He asks, voice dripping with indifference. “The little painter who was caught stealing?” 

     “Yes father.” 

     The “little thief” has been a blossoming apprentice under a most respected artist within the city, only for the truth to come out that he had been stealing funds from his mentor for months on end.  The king had suggested König simply cut off the painter’s hands and let him live out the rest of his days in poverty. “What better punishment for an artist than a life where he cannot create?” 

     But the end ruling was for the artist to lose his head in the town-square and König’s hands delivered the blade to his neck. 

     “That was simply an act of your work, my child.” 

     “But-” 

     There is a deep sigh from the opposite side of the booth and König falls silent, like a scolded child. 

     The irony isn't lost on the priest, that a man who must associate himself with the macabre so often is incredibly devout in his worship. But the humor was drowned out by how astonishingly self-loathing the poor bastard was. 

     “My child, do you believe our king is the one true king?”

     “Of course father.” 

     “And do you believe our God is the one, true, God?” 

     There’s a garbled noise that comes from the larger man, an incredulous sputtering at how the priest would ever assume he would say otherwise. 

     It makes the man chuckle. 

     “Of course father!” 

     “Then acting out the King’s law is acting out God’s law, is it not?” 

     There’s a pause, the priest can see the man shrink down into his seat even further, if that was even possible with how he contorted the bulk of his body to squeeze into the wooden booth. 

     “I’m not saying you cannot feel-” He waves his hand in the air, despite the fact that König cannot truly see him. “-conflicted, about your career. It’s not one that comes easily, I’m sure. But it is not one that makes you a monster, despite how many people would try to have you believe that.” 

     “Yes father.” 

     The man’s voice is a shred of what it should be- all but a trembling whisper that makes even the exhausted priest frown. 

     “Being an executioner isn’t an easy job. But it’s one that is needed nonetheless.” 

     König says something softly to himself, but the priest cannot be bothered to ask what. 

     “For your sins I-” 

     “Actually, father-” the wooden step creaked under his weight as he shifted on his knees. “There’s something else.” 

     “Oh?” 

     “I’ve been having impure thoughts about a woman.” 

     “Oh.” 

     The priest blinks. He had never heard the man speak of any sin aside from the violence he acted out on the King’s word. Truth be told he had begun to think the lad was so devout such a concept was all but foreign to him. 

     But this?

     “I’m listening, my child.” 

     This was far more interesting than listening to him bemoan about a town square beheading. 

     “She is-” König chews on the inside of his cheek, chipped teeth digging into the formed scars he has had since childhood from the nervous habit. “Promised to somebody else.” 

     The priest hides a snicker behind a well placed cough. 

     “Married?”

     “In a manner of speaking, yes.” 

      “I haven’t…acted upon them.” The man who has killed week after week fiddles with his hands, face turning bright red as simply speaking of his attraction toward the woman. The priest couldn't help but wonder who she was. Whether it be a kind tavern girl who ignored his gaze each day he walked by or a local prostitute that urged on his affection as long as he could afford her time. 

     It’s no secret that few women would concern themselves with the local executioner, if not even look him in the eyes. 

     “She’s a good woman of proper virtue, I would not sully her name in such a way.” 

     This poor bastard. 

     “Is she beautiful?” 

     “I’m sorry?” 

     “The woman you speak of, do you find her attractive?” 

     König swallows. “Yes, incredibly. Her smile rivals that of the sun and-” 

     “That’s more than enough.” The priest grins into his hand as the airy tone the executioner’s voice took on, like a poet reciting his latest venture. The man was properly lovesick, how charming. “I do not believe you have committed any sin in appreciating a woman’s beauty.” 

     “I haven’t?” 

     “Admiring a woman’s beauty is like admiring a piece of art, is it not?” The priest offers. “You are simply taking in the art that God has created with his own hands, my child.” 

     Before König has a chance to respond, through the lattice he sees a flash of white through the corner of his eye. A soft voice humming a tune fills the air, echoing through the church hall like a well-respected hymn. In a panic, König begins to stand his full height before he is halted in his tracks as the top of his head slams into the confessional roof. 

     “My son?” 

     “Ah, apologies father! But I have to leave because of-” 

     The priest nods. “Yes, yes of course.You are absolved of your sins, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.” 

     The final word is drowned out by the slam of the confessional door opening the man’s thundering footsteps receding from the booth. 

     The executioner stands to his full height as he exits the church. He shields his eyes as he steps outside, suddenly overwhelmed by the burst of sunlight. 

     In his haste, he did not see the figure at his side. 

     “Good morning to you, König.”

     The man jumps, twisting around to face you where you stand at the bottom church steps, broom in hand and a smile on your face. 

     “Ah! Yes! Good morning to you as well, sister.” 

     “A lovely day, is it not?” 

     Heat creeps up the back of his neck and he struggles to find the words he wished to speak to you. But you, ever patient and kind, wait without judgment. 

     “Yes, quite lovely.” 

     As König stares down at you, his heart beating as he watches the sun shine on your figure and your smile, he finds himself thinking of the Holy Father’s words.

     “You are simply taking in the art that God has created with his own hands”

     What beautiful art indeed. 

[ephemerasnape]

Harlot of the Highlands 🔞

Trying something a little new for a change. This audio is hyper-consensual, but considering the participants, still pretty nasty. The Dark Wizard C voice is a lot harder to work with than Victor Rookwood's and so it's far from perfect.. Let me know what you think, and enjoy!

You're caught sneaking into the tent of Poacher Executioner Mortimus Ackerley, but he knows you're looking for a completely different kind of trouble. "This is going to be a tight fit but we'll make it work."

Poacher Executioner x Listener/MC

EXPLICIT AUDIO 18+

Age Difference / Size Difference / No use of Y/N or MC but you are MC / Dirty Talk / Praise Kink / Excessive Talking During Sex

Some of the "you" effects are courtesy of the lovely @rookwoodswife

[gremlinmodetweeker]

The Axe - Chapter 3 (Part 3)

It's the final piece! Enjoy some fantasy medieval ages/early common era au with local executioner!König. Since this is chapter 3, there's no real point to adding my KoFi but I'll do it anyways because why not.

KoFi Here

Tw: Discussion of torture, discussion of virginity and related topics

Wordcount: 1.9k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Behind The Dew You Sing To Me

You hurried home as quickly as you could, racing against Brak-Hah’s descending eye and the rise of Luit and Lui as they tumbled through the sky. You managed to scurry inside just before Densis’s watch settled in and hurried to the kitchen to find your auntie measuring out cups of buck flour into bags.

“There you are!” she cried as you walked through the door, “I was worried you’d be late!”

“Worried?” you asked with a smirk.

Your auntie rolled her eyes, “Always with the mouthing off, aren’t you? I really should take a sandal to you one of these days…”

“Auntie, I’m a bit old for that,” you laughed as you rolled up your sleeves.

Your auntie huffed and shook her head, but at the very least she didn’t say anything until you sat down in a stool beside her and set to work.

“So,” she said warily, “how was it?”

You grimaced, “Horrible, Auntie.”

Your auntie raised a thin brow, “Horrible you say?”

“Just horrible,” you said again, “the man spat in Father Kim’s face when he was given his final redemptions. They choked him to death in the end.”

Your auntie shivered, “Oh that’s just disgusting. I mean really, a choking? Those are just the worst ones. Nobody likes those.”

“It’s better than some other deaths,” you offered.

“Just because it’s better than a grinding doesn’t mean it’s a good death,” your auntie grumbled.

You shuddered at the thought.

“No, not at all,” you admitted, “but it was awful. I could hardly stand the smell of it once it was done.”

Your auntie shook her head, “I’m surprised you stayed around long enough.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “I was handing off the rations to The Axe.”

Your auntie snapped her eyes wide in alarm, “Your uncle left you alone with him!?”

“Um… Well…” you shrank down into yourself, “I sorta just stayed behind?”

“What in the realms was he doing!?” your auntie hissed, “I told him to keep you both-You know what, nevermind. I should’ve never let you go in the first place.”

“But Auntie, he’s not as bad as you think,” you tried to say, “he’s not a monster.”

“Any man capable of putting someone through a grinding is a monster, if you ask me,” your auntie sniffed.

You clenched your teeth together.

“I’m telling you Auntie, he’s not that bad,” you tried again, “you just have to give him a chance.”

“Why should I?’ your auntie scoffed, “it’s not like I’ll ever meet him.”

Your eyebrows knit together, “Well, I like him well-”

“Oh so you admit it!” your auntie snapped, “you do like him! Now I know for sure I know what’s going on here!”

You huffed, “And what’s going on?”

“You’re going to try and marry that bastard!” your auntie growled, “that lowlife nothing! You’re going to take everything we’ve given you and you’re going to toss it away to run off with that sick, disgusting, evil-”

“I keep telling you he’s not-”

“Oh there you go again, defending his ‘honor’! What honor does a man like that have?” your auntie whirled on you, “he was born of a cursed line, he’ll die a cursed line. Any son from his loins will have a black cross painted on their head from the moment they leave your womb!”

You paused momentarily. You drummed your fingers on your knee before carefully turning to your auntie.

“So you’re saying I’ll have his child?”

“That’s what you’re focussing on!?”

You shrugged. Your auntie sighed and set the measuring cup down to rub at her dark temples.

“I swear, you’re just like your uncle,” she grumbled, “there’s something in you both that makes you want what you can’t have.”

“Well, Uncle chose to love you, right?” you offered, “I’m sure if he didn’t love what he couldn’t have, he wouldn’t have gone after you.”

Your auntie sighed, “I was a merchant’s daughter, at least. A merchant. Not an executioner.”

“But you see my point?” you asked.

“I see your point and I think it’s ridiculous,” your auntie huffed before she scooped up another cup of flour and begrudgingly added, “but I see your point.”

You smiled hopefully, “Look, I know he’s not your ideal choice-”

“Oh that couldn’t be more of an understatement.”

“He’s not your choice, but he’s my choice,” you finished.

“I think you have terrible taste,” your auntie grumbled, “of all the cursed lovers you could have, you chose an executioner. You could be with a plumber, a street sweeper, even a mercenary might’ve been better!”

You gave your auntie a knowing look.

“Okay, well, maybe not the last one. But Jakob down the road is a perfectly good plumber’s apprentice!” your auntie spluttered.

“Jakob Braun? The boy who used to pull my hair and throw beetle muck at me?” you pulled a face.

“If he just ate a bit better he’d look good enough,” your auntie offered.

“Last I heard he visits the whorehouse every other watch,” you raised an eyebrow.

“Everyone has their vices.”

“He smells of the very shit he cleans,” you tried again.

“Wear perfume,” your auntie shrugged, “it might help cover it up.”

“My children would still be considered undesirables,” you scowled.

“But they wouldn’t have a murderer for a father!” your auntie proclaimed, “oh how would you go about the village if you married that brute? You have such good friends around. How would you handle losing all of them?”

“I think my friends could tolerate my choices,” you huffed.

Your auntie rolled her eyes, “Tomorrow I’m going to start looking for a marriage for you. This is getting out of hand.”

You stilled your movements.

“You… You’re not serious, are you?” your voice shook slightly.

Your auntie scowled at you. Her dark eyes hardened briefly, but soon she sank back with a weary sigh.

“No,” she admitted, “I just don’t want you getting hurt. And if you go off with this man… I can’t help you if you get hurt. You know I can’t.”

“I won’t get hurt Auntie,” you assured her, “I promise.”

“Maybe not by him, but what about everyone else?” she tried to reason with you, “I can’t stop the rumours. You know I can’t.”

“Everyone always has rumours about them,” you answered trepidatiously, “I’m sure I’ll be alright in the end.”

“But will you?” your auntie frowned as she went back to her work, “I don’t know, I can’t be sure. If I can’t be sure you’ll be safe, how can you expect me to support you? You can’t! I just… I can’t.”

You let out a sigh and sank your elbows onto your knees, “You can’t, and neither can I. But I can at least try.”

“You know there’s no going back if anyone catches wind of you two together,” your auntie warned you, “nobody will want to be with you if they know he’s touched you.”

You pursed your lips into a line, “I know.”

“You’ve never had a man before,” your auntie clucked her tongue, “he’d be the first one, and he’d ruin you for anyone else.”

“But I don’t want anyone else,” you said.

“But what if he doesn’t want you?” your auntie pointed out, “he might like you now, but you know how boys are. They’re wild things that want new toys until they’ve used them up, and then they throw them away. They’re horrible beasts, boys are.”

“But what about you and Uncle Mattias?” you asked.

“Your uncle and I found each other after being with others first,” your auntie explained, “we weren’t firsts to each other. We found each other through trial and error. Your uncle was a wild man in his youth, and I was worse than him. We went through a few before we found the person that worked best for us.”

“So you’re not just opposed to him because you think he’s evil?” you asked.

Your auntie rubbed her temples again, “No, you silly girl. It’s because I’m worried for your future!”

“But what if he’s what’s right for me?” you asked.

“Then you’d be winning the lottery,” your auntie snorted, “if you want to play that sort of game, I can’t stop you. Just know that once he’s been with you, nobody else will want you.”

“Because he’s taken my virginity?” you asked.

“No, stupid girl! Because he’s an executioner, and nobody wants a woman who’s laid with an executioner!” your auntie snapped.

You winced at her words, but helped fill the flour sack regardless.

Your auntie worked hard beside you, slowly filling one bag before moving the next and filling it just the same. She took care to line each filled bag along the wall so she could sew them shut later to sell them. She was always a wonderful seamstress, something you could never be. She said you didn’t have the practise, but something told you she was just being nice about it. It’s not like you were incapable of the work, it just wasn’t what you were best at.

You kept shoveling the flour in the bags beside you. It’s a shame you missed the miller; he’s always been the friendliest face to grace your shop. He was a jolly snow tredder that stopped by every now and then to deliver the flour he’d ground that day. You didn’t know how he did it, but his flour was always the best quality in the whole village. None of the other farmers had anything like what he had. At the very least, Dimitri Muller was the best wheat and grain farmer the region had ever seen. At most, possibly the best farmer in the entire kingdom.

You smiled at the thought of Dimitri and his silly northern jokes. You wondered how he got along with Nikto. The two came from a similar region, that you knew for sure.

As you worked on measuring out the flour, you heard your auntie sigh beside you.

“I'm sorry for being so harsh,” she whispered, “I’m just afraid for you.”

“It’s alright,” you tried to say without your voice shaking too much.

“I…” your auntie groaned, “I don’t even know his name! Haven’t you thought of that? Do you even know his name?”

You paused. You’d been calling him ‘The Axe’ the entire time you’d known him. You’d given him your name, but you’d never actually hear his own. The thought had your heart turn cold as stone.

“I actually don’t,” you admitted.

“Well, before you go gallivanting off with this boy, do get to know his name,” your auntie huffed as she poured the final cup of flour into the bag. She dusted her knees off and got to her feet. She looked at all the bags and gave it an affirming nod before she turned to you, “You’ll help me with the sewing, won’t you?”

You smiled, “Of course I will.”

“Good,” your auntie sniffed, “otherwise I wouldn’t be done until Brak-Hah’s watch next watch.”

“No, I won’t abandon you here,” you assured her, “just pass me a needle and I’ll start.”

Your auntie smiled and patted your head with a warm, leathery hand. Her smile faded as a wash of grief flooded her features.

“What’s wrong auntie?” you asked.

“You’re growing up so fast,” she mourned, “and now you’re off doing all this. I’m scared, my dear. I’m so scared. I’m worried about this man, and I don’t know what I can do to help you.”

You stood up and gripped your auntie in a crushing hug.

“I won’t get hurt,” you promised her, “I’ll be okay. I’ll come and visit too, alright?”

Your auntie sniffled into your hair, “You’d best keep that promise. I won’t ever forgive you if you don’t.”

“I will,” you said as you rocked each other warmly, “I promise I will.”

23. Grinding: A form of execution where a criminal is strapped to a round stone. Their body is slowly eviscerated starting from the feet up. The body can either be crushed to a pulp or the flesh torn off of it with pliers, or is in another way ‘eviscerated’ until there is nothing left. Considered a worse death than the other punishment in its bracket which is breaking. Like in grinding, the body is strapped to a round stone, but in breaking each and every bone in the body is methodically broken before the body is hung up on display. Contrary to grinding, in breaking you can either be broken from the feet up or the head down, depending on how merciful the judgement is. Because you can be broken from the head down, many say it’s a more merciful punishment. Victims in both breakings and grindings normally pass out from pain soon after the execution has begun.

24. Snow Tredder: A species of sentient mushroom that typically live in the far north, near the poles. They are known for their intense bonds between their communities and their hardiness. Many are very large, both in height and in weight. Ones that move away typically only do so in cases of colony collapses or if the colony is in dire need of financial support.

Part One

Part Two

KoFi

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Executioner | Renaissance AU

Summary: Natasha is the king’s executioner. What plot? Just smut.

Natasha x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Read at your own risk, panties definitely came off in this one, beheadings.

Masterlist

You knew you shouldn’t have been in that tavern after curfew. Some of the local women whispered about meeting to discuss steps to improve living conditions in your village. You thought it was worth trying. The king had no intentions on helping the starving women and children. The draft had taken every able bodied man, leaving your people devastated. None of you expected the kings men to burst in. You wouldn’t have gone if you knew what you’d be charged with.

You can’t see anything as burlap sack was roughly crammed onto your head. Desensitization wasn’t a new tactic, pigs for slaughter were treated this way. If you can’t see how close death is, you’re less likely to freak out. You stood there shackled to a girl on both sides of you, shaking in fear, using your last moments to pray. If you tilted your head just right you could see out of the bottom of the sack. A pool of red creeps towards your toes, and you hear the swing of a blade yet again. The only thing louder at the moment is the scream of the girl ahead of you, she knows she’s next. Your arm is jerked forward as the shackle is unlocked, separating you from the crying girl.

You close your eyes as you begin to pray, what king would do this to his people? You didn’t do anything wrong, the village only wants food and clothes for the winter. You knew why he didn’t favor your village; you didn’t export any goods. No crops, linen, or cattle were given to the castle. The women needed everything just to keep their children and elderly alive.

The blade makes contact with the wooden bench yet again, and you begin to shake. You won’t cry, you won’t let them have the satisfaction. They can take your life but they can’t have your soul. You had no reaction as the sack was pulled from your head. Your eyes squint to adjust to the sun. Standing in front of you is a tall man, so broad he shields you from the crowd of onlookers. He starts fiddling with your shackle and you look around him, seeing that you’re on a high wooden platform in the middle of the capital. Hundreds of subjects crowded around, waiting for the next beheading.

You catch a glimpse of red hair behind the man, but he jerks you forward before you can get a better look. You pad forward, and the crowds chatter becomes clearer “treasonous bitch!” “Witch” “this will teach you!” ”long live King Stark!”. You couldn’t help but to laugh out loud. They really thought the king cared for them. They could be on this chopping block next, they’re too deluded to see it. You start giggling louder, and louder and it draws the attention of the red haired woman.

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” You tilt your head to the side and see a short woman, black robes covering her, a large hood pulled halfway up. “I am being prosecuted for being a woman. This is already harder than it has to be.”. How sick, the king making a woman execute other women. You looked into her eyes, knowing they’d be the last thing you ever saw. She was beautiful beyond measure, fair skin, full lips and large green eyes stared back at you. The woman is frozen in place, never having had a stand off with a person she was about to execute. You lean down, the blood of the innocent girl tickled your cheek. Closing your eyes you inhale the scent of rust and mud. Taking a deep breath you wait for your execution, unwavering.

It never comes, a loud explosion shakes town square. You’re thrown from the chopping block, landing on the hard dirt. Screams erupt and you feel feet trample over you. A large man steps right on the hand balancing you, causing you to scream out in pain. You coddle your sore fingers like a cat licking its wounds. You crawl under the wooden structure used as a stage. Hiding from the crowd who were willingly going to chop your head off moments earlier. You look up between the cracks and see the red head woman scanning the crowd, searching for you. “Tell the kings guard she’s gone. The explosion gave her cover for escape.” She whispers to a man in all metal armor.

The crowd has finally dispersed and all you can hear is the dripping of blood, the woman’s deep sighs as she paces the platform above you. You’re too scared to make a sound, knowing your cover could be blown at any moment. You feel a tickle at the edge of your hairline, you quickly swipe at what’s bothering you. A spider crawls up your hand causing you to wince, shaking it off. Your eyes dart upward, in hopes she didn’t notice. Except you can’t see her anywhere between the cracks. You lean forward to get a better advantage point and still, the platform is void of any person. Sitting back down on your feet you take a deep breath, maybe you’re finally in the clear.

A blade is pressed to your neck before you can exhale. A hand snakes its way around your waist, traveling upward along your front, securing your arm and neck in a tight lock. “Thought you could escape?” She breathes in your ear. Your heartbeat fastens, “Please, you don’t understand, I’m innocent. I’ve done nothing wrong.” You plead as she tightens her grip on you. “That’s what they all say. But not everyone was found gathered under a full moon, whispering about a kings downfall.” You furrow your brow, full moon? You’d never gathered with anyone under a full moon, you were no witch.

She pushes you forward, your face hitting the ground, billowing up a cloud of dirt. “You’re mistaken miss, we met to discuss rations, create a plan on how to survive the winter, I would never knowingly gather under a full moon.” You wiggle as she straddles your ass, pushing against her as she shackles your hands behind your back. “I thought I was being executed for conspiracy not witchcraft.” You writhe more underneath her, grasping her wrist, you hold her there as you plead for her mercy. “Please, I am not what you think. I’ll go far away, you’ll never see or hear of me again. I’ll never return. I swear it upon the Lord.”

The woman stares at her wrist in your hand. Your words completely muffled to her. She looks at your rode up gown, lace garters around each of your legs. She pulls herself away, kneeling beside you. You start shaking in fear of what is to come next. She places a hand on the back of your thigh, slowly feeling her way to between your legs. “If you want me to let you go free, you’re going to have to earn it, witch.” The woman laughs to herself. You squeeze your eyes shut as you realize what she means. “What do you want from me?” You cry out. The woman flips you over onto your back, she leans down looking you right in the eye.

“Make it worth my while, and I’ll escort you to the city limits myself.” She smirked on top of you. You look into her eyes, she was too beautiful to be this wicked. Something happened to make her this way, you’d never know. Your survival instincts kicked in before you could protest. Pressing your lips to hers you eagerly run your tongue against her bottom lip. She takes the opportunity to feel your breast, massaging them behind thick dress linen. You pull away as a strange feeling builds inside of you, you’d never been with a woman so you didn’t think you’d get anything out of this. But the feeling of her hands on you, ignited a flame deep inside, causing a throb to wreck your clit.

“You like that?” She asks with hooded eyes, pinching your nipples in the process. You sharply gasp, the feeling of wetness pooling between your thighs. Your back arches off the ground as she slips her hand under your dress, the feeling of her hand on your bare skin, burning. She feels her way up to your right nipple, pinching it unbearably hard, you yelp. “Answer me, witch.” She says. “Yes, ms?”

“Natasha, not that it matters.”.

Natasha lifts herself to her knees, looking down at you, your dress pulled up, thrown over your shoulder as your chest is exposed. “So pathetic, begging to run away like that. So small underneath this thick fabric,” she places a finger on your navel, drawing a line down, running it between the folds surrounding your clit; stopping when the tip of her finger slips inside of you. “So wet, and I’ve barely touched you”.

You bite your lip so hard you taste blood, you couldn’t help it as she gently stroked her finger in and out of you. You raise your hips off the ground practically begging for more, “Please Natasha, I’ll do anything, just uncuff me.”. The red head throws her head back laughing while she adds another digit, going deeper than before “I don’t need to do that to get what I want.” You press your head into the ground as you adjust to her thick fingers, the burning stretch and the slow pace causing your legs to shake, a wet soothing feeling stopped the shaking as soon as it began, you looked down to see Natasha staring up at you, her tongue moving in slow circles around your clit. “Don’t stop.” You plead.

As if she was getting off on torturing you, she stopped instantly, pulling her hand from you. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea,” Natasha says, pulling her black robe over her head. “This isn’t for your pleasure, it’s for mine.” She says, freeing the ties around her waist. Her undercoat falls down, exposing a hairless pussy. She throws one leg over your waist, diagonally straddling you. “I had to make you want it, no one wants to ride a sleeping bull.”. She spreads her lips, pressing herself into you, the feeling completely foreign, everything she’d done up till now, a man already had the privilege of doing before.

Natasha rolls her hips, perfectly gliding against your clit. It felt like a warm kiss, wet and desperate. You whine, wishing you could touch her, hold onto something for leverage. You couldn’t move as she fucked you, you’re completely helpless besides being able to wrap a leg around her waist. It did nothing to move you, it only made her grind harder against you.

A strangled moan leaves your lips as she starts rocking against you with a new pace, it was gonna make you cum if she kept going. A rubber band inside of you was being stretched past its limit and was about to snap back. At this point you thought, she has to be reading your mind. She slowed down, throwing her head back as she barely lifted herself, just to slam herself back down. She did this over and over again till you were sore, you needed release.

Natasha wasn’t thinking about your release as she crawled up your body, sitting on your chest. “If you make me feel real, real good. I’ll even get you to the next town, deal?” You nod your head before thinking. She quickly grabs a handful of your hair, “What did I say? Speak when spoken to, witch.” “Deal.”

She strokes your face, admiring your features before she makes a mess of them. Soft eyes search hers for answers, but nothing would prepare you for how gentle she was. Natasha lifted her hips, ghosting her center past your lips, causing you to crane your neck to reach for her. She was practically dripping into your mouth as you reached your tongue to take a practice swipe. She was so soft, like rose petals that tasted like ‘more’; you wanted more.

You tilt your chin forward latching your lips around her core, creating a suction while your rolled her clit around the tip of your tongue. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.” Natasha praises you from above. She miraculously keeps herself still, not abusing your face like she did your bottom half. You liked the way she sounded, light and raspy, searching for a breath. It kept you going while you explored her every inch. You lapped up wetness as it dripped from her hole, rimming the hole with the tip of your tongue.

Her body reacted the best to your flat tongue, licking long thick stripes over her clit. It made Natasha jerk her body forward, causing your nose to stimulate her even more. “You’re doing so good baby, just a little longer.” You couldn’t help but use the praise as fuel to keep going. The sight of Natasha writhing in pleasure makes you needy. You feverishly rub her clit as you breathe hot breath onto her.

Natasha grips your hair as she finally takes hold of the situation, she grinds her hips down, fully pressing herself on your tongue. You can’t keep up as she tries to climax. Her hips going at a pace your jaw isn’t accustomed to. You close your eyes as you feel her jerk forward, slowing herself down, she writhes on your face.

You gasp for air as she stands, throwing her robe back over her head. You lift yourself to your knees, letting gravity pull your dress down. You do nothing but await your release from the chains that bind you. You did what she asked, you just wanted to be freed, you needed no escort to the edge of town or the next village. “Please, uncuff me now, Natasha?” She gave you a pitiful look as she tied the straps to her undergarments.

“Oh honey, did you really think I was gonna let you go free?” She walked towards you, bending over to match your eye line. “You’re dead as far as the king knows, a crowd never lets a criminal get away. You just got lucky with the explosion.” Confusion clouded your brain, what was she going to do, if not turn you in? “What?” You say, knowing whatever she had in mind was better than execution.

“You’re coming home with me, witch.”

[royaltea000]

BG3 but it’s Yharnam’s Gate 3

[fef-in-the-flesh]

I love lying and say I’m gonna post more again (I am so sorry😭)

Anyway here’s some REALLYYYY old Darkleer n Handmaid sketches (I really like these but the pixalation is killing)

I don’t know how to explain what I think their dynamic would be, but it’d probably be pretty funny

[fareehaandspaniards]

First me and the girls found out that egger has bigger Strength slider than fuckin Alfred and would easily overpower him in arm wrestling.. Then as we can see, the BOBER is becoming way cooler than Alfred the Golden Retriever (or was it labrador? either way the golden puppy Alfred you see often). What will egger take from Alfred NEXT? Headpats from Logarius? The prize spot for the best pecs?? Paleblood Hunter's ass????? WHERE IS THE LIMIT?

*reads the whole question*

...

OMG HEADPATS FROM LOGARIUS

[fishyvamp]

I am reading up on pyramid head for a fic I'm currently writing trying to nail him down and have come to the conclusion that the only thing that can be agreed upon is that what he is (physically) and what he he really looks like is completely up to personal interruption and where the money is. He was originally a manifestation of James's guilt, until he wasn't for the sequel. His steel frame is his head until the creator changed his mind and says it's a helmet. That thing on the back of his head is flesh and a piece of his body but not his head, but it might be a hood and made of cloth. The remake most certainly makes it look like a hood and not a fleshy sack unlike the original where it does look like a ball sack. Doesn't help that his clothes are skin toned.

All this to say I will apologize to the Silent Hill fans who might stumble on the dead by daylight smut I am writing if he isn't what you head cannon. This guy is a blank canvas and am going to paint all over him.

And let him paint all over my back. What... who said that?

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

“Oh… who is he (she)?”

“A misty memory…”

[pettyprocrastination]

thinking about how executioner!König is absolutely ostracized by society. When not dolling out punishment or death he’s collecting corpses, both human and animal from the roads. He spends every day with the smell of death on his fingertips to the point that nobody will speak to him. Vendors will give him food, but dare not set it in his palm in fear of it being tainted by his touch (and them by proxy) he’s a job they all need (and often watch with morbid fascination) but nobody truly respects the man beneath the hood. 

Until a kindhearted nun smiles at him on Sunday, the lord’s day, and asks if he has come in search of worship. 

[ephemerasnape]

➔ A Bone To Pick - Victor Rookwood discovers who's behind all the smutty audios about him - and he's pissed. (Also can be considered a sort of disclaimer for my audios in general.)

➔ Bait & Switch - Ominis and Sebastian discuss a serious problem they're having in this Public Service Announcement to the fandom.

I've created quite a bit of Hogwarts Legacy material (most of which is adult-oriented). The following stories and audios are predominantly 18+, explicit, and x female!reader or listener where you are MC (with a few exceptions). Although much of my stuff is x reader I do not use Y/N or MC by default as I personally find both distracting.

Listing of all audios with links to ao3

All my Daddy Rookwood AUDIOS!

Chatbots!

My ao3

Socials / RookwoodGroup.org

Discord: Unrestricted Section

Rookwood Groupies Group on Tumblr

My Commissions

Gift Art!

Rules & Disclaimers! There are no fucking rules, are you kidding me? This is fanfiction, it's a no man's land of degeneracy. Exercise a modicum of independent thought and live a little.

Victor Rookwood Headcanons!

List of all Victor Rookwood Audios!

Fanfiction (there are a few more on ao3 that are not my favorite)

🌟 = recommended!

🌟 A Quick Word - (Rookwood x You - 5,000 words.) Explicit - What could transpire if you would only allow Rookwood to have a word with you at the Three Broomsticks as he requested.

A Wicked, Wicked Man - (Rookwood x You - 3,300 words.) Explicit, Rape, Violence - “Perhaps you long to be treated like the disobedient little whore you are.”

🌟 Rough Night - (Ashwinders x You, Rookwood & You - 6,600 words.) Explicit, Gang Rape, Violence - You lose the battle with Rookwood and his cronies that takes place during Wand Mastery. Includes a version with a female reader, and one with a male reader.

🌟Under the Hog's Head - (Rookwood x You - 2,800 words.) Explicit, Rape - "I don't think you're in any position to bargain, little one."

How Dunstan Trinity Lost His Eye (Dunstan Trinity & Victor Rookwood - 1,100 words.) Gen, Violence, Gore

🌟 Devoutly to be Wished (Anne Sallow x Victor Rookwood) - Explicit - Anne Sallow is dying. When she receives word from Sebastian regarding the likely progenitor of the curse that's killing her, she feels she must uncover the truth.

Micro Smut: Upstairs at the Three Broomsticks (Rookwood x You) Explicit

Micro Fic with Fanart: Ephemera Snape's Revenge (Rookwood x Me)

A Five Hundred Galleon Whore (Rookwood x F!OC - 3,200 words) Explicit, Noncon, Dubcon - Epilogue to Paying the Piper. "You can cooperate or I can let all the men in my ranks take their fill of you."

Audios:

↱ Daddy Rookwood audios now live here! There were just too many!

Fanfiction (more on ao3)

🌟 A Change of Heart - (Poacher x You - 2,500 words.) Explicit - You encounter a Poacher camped in a remote area all by his lonesome. Easy kill, right? Wrong.

🌟 Last Man Standing - (Poacher Executioner x You - 2,000 words.) Explicit, Rape, Violence - “You're lucky you're not a wizard... I would have snapped your neck already if you were."

🌟 Rough Night - (Ashwinders x You, Rookwood & You - 6,600 words.) Explicit, Gang Rape, Violence - You lose the battle with Rookwood and his cronies that takes place during Wand Mastery. Includes a version with a female reader, and one with a male reader.

How Dunstan Trinity Lost His Eye (Dunstan Trinity & Victor Rookwood - 1,100 words.) Gen, Violence, Gore

Encounter on Phoenix Mountain - (Poacher Stalker x You - 1,300 words.) Explicit - A solitary Poacher Stalker corners you in Phoenix Mountain Cave. What's a girl to do?

Under the Hog's Head - (Ashwinders & Rookwood x You - 2,800 words.) Explicit, Gang Rape - "I don't think you're in any position to bargain, little one."

🌟 Paying the Piper (Ashwinder Scout x OFC - WIP) Explicit - The newest shopkeeper in Hogsmeade is met with an unpleasant surprise when a handsome young Ashwinder shows up at her door demanding payment. COMIC!

Masked Man (Ashwinder Scout x OFC - 1,100) Explicit, Quickie, CNC - "This is what happens to pretty little shopkeepers who don't pay their due."

The Poacher's Prize (Poppy Sweeting x Poachers - 1,800 words) Explicit, Rape, Violence - Poppy pays the price for her betrayals!

Dawn of Regret (Poacher Executioner x You - 1,900 words) Explicit, Rape - “Ye wanted to seduce a dark wizard,” the Executioner purrs, running his tongue across your lips. “Well, haha, it worked!”

Audios:

The Pledge (Rookwood & Selwyn x You - 4:50min) - Explicit, Gang Rape - Silvanus Selwyn catches you, but Rookwood gets first dibs...

Comeuppance (Ashwinders x You, Rookwood & You - 5:55min) - Explicit, Gang Rape, Lesbian, Violence - You are subjugated by Ashwinders and Poachers..

Rookwood's Revenge 2 - The Ashwinders (Ashwinders x You, Rookwood & You - 4:55min) - Explicit, Gang Rape, Violence - The Ashwinders take their revenge on you under Rookwood's watchful eye.

Executioner Monologue (2:43min) - Biographical monologue by Poacher Executioner - SFW

🌟At the Mercy of Macnair (Poacher Stalker x You, 4:12min) - Explicit, Rape - You've been caught in a bandit camp. You're bound, gagged, and helpless, but where's the fun in just leaving you be?

Battle Royal at Horntail Hall (Poppy Sweeting x Poacher Stalker, 2.23min) - SFW - You and Poppy get caught sneaking into Horntail Hall and are immediately recognized.

All in a Day's Work (Rookwood x Ashwinder!You - 2min) - Explicit, Dubcon - "The boss wants to see you."

Paying the Piper Excerpt (Ashwinder Scout x OFC - 1:19min) SFW

Lip Service (Ashwinder Scout x OFC - 1:46min) Explicit - Oswald's first blowjob from my fic "Paying the Piper."

Harlot of the Highlands (Poacher Executioner x You - 4:37) Explicit - You sneak into his tent at night looking for a special kind of trouble.

Quick Handjob (Ashwinder Scout x MC - 0:40) - Explicit

Tête-à-tête (Ashwinder Scout & MC - 1:18) - SFW - An Ashwinder Scout pleads for his life.

Fanfiction:

The Dark Sacrifice - (Ominis & Sebastian x You - 1,800 words.) Explicit, Noncon - Sebastian asks you to meet him and Ominis at the catacomb to make a dark sacrifice. Little do you know it's going to be you.

Another Secret for the Undercroft - (Ominis & Sebastian x You - 5,200 words.) Explicit - "I know I’m not as good as Sebastian,” Ominis hisses, “I’m better.”

Talk to Me - (Ominis x Reader - 1,685 words) Explicit - After visiting the Scriptorium, you can't stop thinking about Ominis speaking parseltongue. Smut ensues.

Audios:

Today's the Day (Ominis & Sebastian x You/MC - 2:18min) - Explicit, Gang Rape, Violence - Sebastian and Ominis make you pay the price after learning of your alliance with Victor Rookwood..

Bait and Switch (Ominis & Sebastian & ? - 2:15min) SFW - The boys discuss a serious problem they're having. Fortunately, Victor Rookwood has a solution.

Talk to Me (Ominis x You/MC - 2:44min) - Explicit - After leaving the Scriptorium, you pull Ominis aside, having been entranced by his use of parseltongue. (God, I hate this audio so much!)

A Moment Alone (Sebastian x ? - 1:10min) - Explicit - Sebastian thinks he's alone in the Undercroft..

Sebastian's Pleasure (Sebastian x You - 0:40min) - Explicit - Just Sebastian finishing inside of you...

Pigtails' Revenge (Piers Pemberton x You - 2:09min) - Explicit, GN!Listener, Violence, Dubcon - Piers Pemberton punishes you for stealing his Demiguise statues.

Goblin Supremacy (Ranrok & Rookwood x You - 4:59min) - Explicit, Rape - "Prepare to be conquered for goblinkind, little witch."

A Moment Alone (Sebastian Sallow x Peeves - 1:10min) - Explicit - Sebastian thinks he's alone in the Undercroft..

Ephemera Snape's Revenge (Rookwood x Me - 2:33min) - SFW, Gore

After Dark (Fastidio x Reader/MC - 4,000 words) - Explicit, Rape - "You're on my time now."

Free Use / Somnophilia (Unnamed Wizard x Reader, 712 words) Explicit, CNC

Listing of all audios with links to ao3

All my Daddy Rookwood AUDIOS!

Chatbots!

My ao3

Socials / RookwoodGroup.org

Discord: Unrestricted Section

My Commissions

☙ Asks, Requests, and DMs always open! ❧ (Please, I'm bored)

[gremlinmodetweeker]

The Axe - Chapter 3 (Part 1)

Okay so I've done a lot of art recently, but as I've mentioned to some other people I want on a vacation for my anniversary so I'm back, I'm refreshed, and I was able to sit down and write the next part of The Axe. This fic is always super fun and interesting. I know medieval fantasy is always a turn off for me, so I don't expect many people to enjoy it, but I do think the world building in here is pretty impressive. Let me know what you think!

If you don't want to wait for the whole fic to be published over the next couple of days, check out my KoFi HERE

By the way, the whole fic is 24 pages size 10 Times New Roman. Full fic is about 11.3k. This is a long thing.

TW: mention of alcohol, public execution, gore description of corpse, religious figures

Wordcount: 6k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Behind The Dew You Sing To Me

You’d never been keen on execution wakes before, but today was different. Today, you wanted to see if you could learn more about the great hooded man with that glinting, silver axe. A part of you was afraid to so much as offer to help your uncle, but another part of you was too excited to stop yourself.

“You want to come to a hanging?” your uncle stared at you in bewilderment, “a hanging? Have you lost your gourd?”

“Uncle, I know what I want,” you sighed again, “I want to come with you. You only just got out of bed, you need someone to help you there.”

“I don’t need that much help,” your uncle snorted, “I’ll be just fine. You can stay back and do some work here. Buns need to be made for Halaxwake.

“But you need rest, uncle,” you chastised him again, “you have to rest just a little bit, right? Auntie would never forgive you if you got sick all over again.”

“She wouldn’t, nor would she forgive me if I came home empty-handed!” your uncle chuckled before glancing at you with a mischievous look in his eye, “why, you’re so eager to go I might think you’re looking to meet someone there!”

Your face flushed a violent crimson as you spluttered and coughed.

Your uncle hummed, “You really do like to get yourself into all the worst situations, dear. If I didn’t know better, I might even say you were looking to see a certain shrouded man! Maybe even, dare I say it, a certain mysterious hangman?”

You shamefully turned away as your uncle laughed.

“You think you’re so slick, don’t you!” your uncle’s grin was woven into his words, “I’d bet you really thought I didn’t know any better!” he calmed his laughter momentarily to heave the last load of loaves into the wagon. He took a moment to lean against the side and cross his arms over each other, shoulders back as he stood tall in the crisp air. You glanced back to see him admiring you with his wise grey eyes, “Come with me. If you’re anything like me or your father, I wouldn’t be able to stop you, anyways.”

Your blush hid behind your wide grin as you walked over to stand beside your uncle. He hoisted the wagon up and looked at you, casting you a wry wink before pushing the wagon forth along the dusky dirt road.

Your uncle pushed the wagon along the road, his eyes straight ahead as he hummed a gentle off-pitch lullaby under his breath, one you’d heard your auntie sing to your cousins. You walked beside him, admiring the wild poppernickins as they grew in bundles of little white and pastel orange-pink blooms along the fence posts on either side of the road. Occasionally, the flowers were overtaken by winds of orange-brown twineweed that snaked up the wooden posts and curling along the fencing. It interwove onto itself, making intricate patterns formed in the ivy under wilted papery white flowers. You figured that soon the farmers would be collecting the pollen for the Hanndoal’s-Turn harvest. You smiled at the thought, memories smelling of bright fruit coated in syrups and the taste of old brew ghosting through your mind.

“You think Ernest’ll have another batch of wink ready for this harvest?” your uncle interrupted your thoughts.

You turned to look at your uncle and blinked, “Wink? Um, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I hope so,” your uncle smiled, “I think Ernest’s wink always tastes the best, but don’t tell Leonard I said that.”

“I don’t think he can bring his head out of his ass long enough to hear you,” you snorted.

Your uncle laughed and shook his head, “Your mother said much the same, back when she was around. She never liked the Buscher clan, really.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

Your uncle kicked a stone out from underfoot, “She thought they were all pompous pricks. Thought they knew everything there was to know about gourds and squashes and the like, but they were all the sourest things you ever did chew on.”

You laughed, “That sounds like my mother alright! She knew what she was talking about.”

Your uncle shook his head, “Oh if you think they’re sour now then you should’ve been around for the older Buscher. That old tyrant grew gourds sour enough to pinch your lips clean off. Horrible things, really.”

“And here I thought Leonard was the worst farmer in the village,” you hummed.

“Leonard’s a right gem compared to his father,” your uncle said, “his father was a right good-for-nothing. You couldn’t talk to him for longer than a vigil before he’d go off about how we were bound to be under the rule of elves if we didn’t prepare for ‘the rise up’ or whatever he called it.”

“The elves?” you rolled your eyes, “I’ll admit, I might say he was right if I didn’t know better.”

“But you do,” your uncle pointed out, “we all know the elves won’t ever try to take over the continent. They’re the best warriors you ever did see, sure, but they’re not that bright. And anyways, they ain’t as evil as he made ‘em out to be, but you already know that yourself. Elves are all just a bunch of bastards with egos big enough to blot out Brak-Hah’s-Eye. And anyways,” your uncle smirked, “they still don’t know how to make any sort of good drink. They need us for a good party.”

You laughed and nodded along. If nothing else, you supposed humans had that going for them. You weren’t called ‘The Joyful Children’ for nothing.

You walked along beside the cart as it squeaked and jostled over the stones littered across the dirt road. It seemed to whine over each and every pebble it overcame as it was pushed closer and closer to where the bodies swung in the breeze. Just the thought of the place had chills crawling up your spine. How anyone was able to endure living in that forest of corpses was beyond you. But then again, most of The Axe’s life was a mystery to you. You’d never even seen the man’s face before.

The Axe was a man hidden in a shroud darker than the one he wore upon his face. He was a strange, curious thing made up of flesh, stolen bones and misplaced teeth. He was walking death through a field of corpse flowers. He was the peace made between a dying man and his maker. He was hatred and rage and bloodshed held within a porcelain vase. All of him was drenched in criminal blood, and yet his eyes were blue as a newborn’s.

This strange man had taken a place in your life unlike any other. No man stood with you when you kneaded the bread for the next wake, but he watched over your shoulder and asked about the herbs and spices you tossed into your mixes. He walked with you when you went to church, an invisible shadow by your side at all times. These past two god watches, when you went to church, you would look down at the stone tiles and wonder if The Axe sat below, a doomed man listening to the words of something floating ever beyond his grasp. Innocent eyes trained on the glowing light coming from beyond an iron grate. You wished you could sit beside him.

Your uncle trod along beside you, blithely ignorant to any of your personal quandaries. He bullishly pushed the cart forward, ignoring its groans of protest. His stone-grey eyes were trained ahead, never wandering from their final destination.

“Uncle,” you asked quietly.

“Yes dear?” your uncle replied with a curious lilt to his tone.

“Do you think that The Axe is a bad man?”

Your uncle hummed slowly. He adjusted his grip on the wooden handles of the cart as sweat bloomed up on his rosey forehead. He took a moment to stop and wipe his hairy forearm over his face, then shook himself clear and picked up the handles again.

As he began to push the cart again, he said, “I think he comes from a cursed line.”

“But is he cursed?” you asked.

Your uncle chuffed, “Oh he’s cursed alright. Cursed by a little girl.”

You screwed your brows tightly together, “Cursed by a little girl?”

Your uncle nodded solemnly.

“Cursed by a little girl,” he confirmed, “I heard it happened when he was sixteen, right after his father went out into the woods and offed himself. I can’t remember the details, but the basic idea of the story is that an execution went south and the man’s daughter cursed The Axe. What the curse is? I don’t know, and don’t you go and listen to anyone who says they do. Nobody does,” your uncle gave an affirmative nod, “but he’s cursed for sure. He sees the witch, the apothecary and Father Kim to treat whatever it is, but I’m betting that as long as that hood’s on his face, he’s a marked man.”

You shivered at the thought.

“I’m sad to hear it,” you said quietly.

“Well, that’s life when you’re a killer-for-hire,” your uncle chuffed, “you need to be prepared for those sorts of things. And,” he paused briefly to glance at you, “if you really wanted to get close to a man like that, you’d have to be ready for those sorts of curses being turned on you.”

You glanced away from the cart to look at more of the tangleweed fencing.

“I know,” you admitted, “but… I can’t help it.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” your uncle sighed, “I know I can’t stop you. If I were a nobleman, maybe I could marry you off to some prince from another land. As it is,” your uncle shrugged, “all I can do is warn you. I’d tell you to stop, but I’m not your father, am I?”

You grimaced, “No, but you’re a better father than mine.”

“You’re speaking of my brother-in-law, you know,” your uncle huffed, “but,” he adjusted his grip, “you’re right. My sister’s husband wasn’t exactly the best sort of man. I always thought he was a bit immature, but what he did when your mom died? I still can’t fathom it.”

You nodded and admitted, “I sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like if he stayed.”

“You’d be a farmer’s daughter,” your uncle said, “so if you prefer the fields to the ovens, maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed.”

“I like the ovens well enough,” you chuckled, “I’d rather Auntie in my ear than getting my legs cut off by a scythe.”

“You heard old Martin got it good last turning-time, did you?” your uncles winced.

“Old Hutch told me it was a nasty wound,” you nodded, “he had to send him to The Axe for further treatment.”

“At least with The Axe around he can mend some of the worst wounds we get,” your uncle mused before a scowl dawned his face, “mind you, he only knows to heal as many wounds as he gives out.”

The thought of The Axe’s words from your last visit rang through your ears.

“I don’t think he likes hurting anyone though,” you said.

Your uncle shrugged, “Doesn’t matter if he likes it or not, he’s a torturer and an executioner by trade. That’s enough for me to make up my mind.”

“But can he really be anything else?” you asked as you stepped around a particularly large stone.

Your uncle shook his head, “As I said, he comes from a cursed line. His blood is tainted by generation on generation of curse. I’d be surprised if he can even sow another line if he tried with you.”

“Don’t be so crass,” you huffed.

“What?” your uncle chuckled, “it’s not like he’s got much to give any son of his. An old axe and a sorry story? I don’t think I’d want to be born to that, if you ask me.

“And anyways, would you want to give birth to any son of his?” your uncle asked you.

You thought for a moment. The thought of being a mother was always there; it was expected of you since birth. You were raised to be a mother much like any other young girl in the village. You were given dolls to care for and stories to lull your newborn to bed before you’d reached your third cycle. Being a mother and a homesteader was just what being a woman in the village meant. That was life. You’d never really paid too much thought to it. If anything, you didn’t even know if you’d ever take a husband. Sure, one day it would happen, but you never put much thought into it. Already most girls your age were married off with a troop of children around their hips. You were a bit of an outlier by now. But, the thought of having a husband and child comforted you at the very least. One day, soon enough, it would happen.

But you hadn’t thought of having children with The Axe. By the spirit realms, you hardly even knew what his face looked like! For all you knew, he was the ugliest man you’d ever lay your eyes on in your life. He could have a rotting face, for all you knew. And yet… The thought of a child with him didn’t sound half bad. It was a thought you’d have to play around with more after you’d gotten to know him better.

“You’re thinking of it now, aren’t you?” your uncle groaned, “by Halax, I shouldn’t have even said his name. I shouldn’t be talking about him with you at all!”

You rolled your eyes at that, “Well, you want to warn me, don’t you?”

“I’ve warned you plenty!” your uncle scoffed, “I keep telling you he’s bad news but you won’t have any of it!”

“I’m having some of it,” you retorted, “just not all of it.”

“Well go on and have some more because I’ve got plenty to give!” your uncle shook his head, “I mean, look, I can’t change your mind. Go and talk to Father Kim if you’re really interested in that man. Father Kim seems to know him best, at least. And if a holy man thinks that it’s a good idea, who am I to judge?”

“So you give me your blessing?” you asked hopefully.

Your uncle sighed, “Not now.”

“But maybe soon?” you prodded.

“Maybe,” your uncle conceded, “but not anytime soon. I still don’t even know the man.”

“But haven’t you given him his rations for years?” you asked quizzically.

“I have,” your uncle explained, “but he isn’t much of a talker. He’s a bit spooky, actually. He’s so quiet I might think he was a louse.”

Your thoughts drifted to when you ate sweet buns together in the forest again.

“I think he just needs some encouragement to talk,” you offered.

“You’ve chatted to him plenty, have you?” your uncle grumbled.

You flushed, “I’ve spoken to him in passing.”

“In passing,” your uncle drawled.

“In passing!” you bristled up.

“Calm yourself, you prickly little poke bear,” your uncle laughed, “you’re acting like a schoolgirl here!”

“I am not!” you huffed.

“You keep telling yourself that,” your uncle smiled knowingly, “you’re only digging a deeper hole for here.”

“I-” you cut yourself off, “I don’t need to hear any of this. I’m better than this.”

“Are you now?” your uncle cackled, “look, your father isn’t here. Somebody has to act the part while he’s gone.”

“And that person has to be you?” you grumbled.

Your uncle gestured to the wide open fields around you, “Who else do you see?”

You bit your tongue harshly. He had you there.

Your uncle laughed as he carted the wagon along the trail, happily poking fun at your ‘schoolgirl crush’ and your youth as he made his way along the old road. You, for your part, flushed up to your poor mortified ears and stayed that way for the rest of the journey. Your uncle took endless delight as he moved the cart along. With a sigh, you accepted fate and walked behind your uncle.

Your uncle only calmed his laughter once you broke through the forest. The cart caught on tangled weeds as you travelled down the lonesome road to the old hanging stone. The trees were thick enough to cast a haunting shade over the two of you. In woods like these, a highwayman could be hidden behind any tree. Suddenly, you were terribly glad to have your teasing uncle by your side. Even if he was an older man, he still had a good bread knife tied to his belt. You had your own little dagger, but your uncle was a seasoned man with a quick draw. It wasn’t much, but anything was better than giving in to whatever the highwaymen demanded.

Your uncle huffed and puffed as he pushed the wagon along the overgrown road. You only knew to follow the path because the trees had been artificially cleared generations before you, leaving a winding trail that snaked erratically through the woods. Evidently, the wood cutters had only cut through the easiest trees, unable to move the monoliths that stood along the edges of the waxing and waning road. In some parts, the wagon only just barely squeezed through the gaps in the trees. You wondered how any of the large carriages were able to make their way through the trees when they already pressed down on you, crushing you like insects under their wild thumb.

Ferns and flowers peeked from behind the old woods to wave in the passing wind. You watched Brak-Hah’s-Eye blink in and out above between the tall pines as you walked along. As you drew further and further into the woods, you felt the chill of shadows creeping up along the back of your neck.

You were blinded when you broke into the bright opening of the Criahlin’s stone. The black slate shone, polished of blood and grime to prepare for the coming day. Around the edge of the circle, stalls had been set up to welcome in any visitor in need of a sweetlin or a swintlin. Someone had set up a stall to shine shoes, another gave out bags of grain for cart beetles. You couldn’t help but be amazed by how so many were able to come and capitalize on the death of a criminal.

Already, a group of townsfolk had gathered around a large loch tree on the far edge of the clearing. Beside it, a long ladder had been placed, leading up to a long twineweed rope. You followed the rope up, up and up to a thick and heavy tree bough. It looked as thick as a man, but it had been cut off after a couple of lengths to prevent the tree from covering up the entire clearing. You had to wonder how often someone had to go up and trim it back to keep it from taking up the whole space.

By the bottom of the tree, Judge Holten sat on one of the large roots that jutted up from the loamy earth. Beside him, Father Kim looked out over the crowd, lips pressed into a thin line. His dark eyes darted side to side as he took in the familiar faces of his congregation. You wondered what he thought of you all.

In the stall nearest to you, you could see Nikto sitting and watching the crowd with an amused look in his eyes. By his side, bottles of eggs, vegetables and even meats were put on display with delicate care. He glanced over your way and waved at you and your uncle.

“Ah, friends!” he called out, “come take the stall beside me!”

Your uncle waved back and brought the cart as close as he could. When he stopped the cart by Nikto’s stall, the old northern man rose to his feet to help you and your uncle set up your display.

You worked quickly with the extra set of hands. A few times Nikto stopped to help your uncle set up his display in a more appealing way. You laughed at the sight, but thanked him nonetheless. Halax knew that your uncle needed the help.

“No no no,” Nikto grumbled as he took the spider buns from your uncle, “put these on the middle shelf. They’re cute and sweet, so people will see them better if you put them there. And put the smallest buns on top! Trust me on this, old man.”

Your uncle followed the other man’s words, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But who were you to argue with Nikto? All his displays were immaculate. Even the products themselves were made so perfectly that you couldn’t stop salivating at the sight of them.

“How do you know how to make everything look so nice?” you wondered as you followed his guidance.

“Secret tips from my mother back home,” Nikto’s eyes crinkled behind his wooden mask, “mother always knows best, you know?”

You faltered briefly before flashing a wide smile, “Well, I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Nikto shook his head, “Mothers never leave their children, Criah doesn’t work that way. We always have our families with us.”

You smiled softly, “You think so?”

Nikto laughed heartily, “I know so! Mother never left. She’s always here,” Nikto thumped his chest before he leaned in conspiratorially, “and that’s how I know your uncle can’t set up a stall to save his life!”

You groaned but couldn’t hold back a laugh. Nikto was an odd man, but at least he was always a fun person to share company with. You shook your head and turned back to your stall.

“Well, it looks like we’re about ready to start selling,” you said as you admired the hard work.

“Can you manage the till?” your uncle asked.

“Are you offering to do the calling?” you replied.

Your uncle nodded and pointed over to the other stalls, “It looks like we don’t have much competition today.”

You glanced over at Nikto.

“My goods are meant to be brought home,” he shrugged, “not eaten here. Yours are better for the show.”

Right, the show. That was certainly one way of putting it.

“I can handle the crowds,” you told your uncle.

“Right then,” your uncle nodded, “I’ll head out and get to hawking.”

You watched your uncle walk out in the crowd, puff up his chest and call out in a big, booming voice. On que, a few customers eagerly turned and looked around before finding your stall and rushing forth. You didn’t understand how anybody was able to eat during these events, but evidently you were the odd one out.

Before long the line had formed and you were up on your feet exchanging coins for sweet and savoury buns. To your delight, a few customers immediately left your line to go over to Nikto’s stall to pick up some jars of his pickled goods. Nikto was never quite as popular, but having the top-selling stall beside him evidently did something for his numbers. A part of you wondered if he’d thought about this when inviting you over, but another part couldn’t care less. You were shopkeepers just the same as he was; you had to do whatever it took to make a good living in a small town. 

As the townsfolk came and left your stall, you did your best to focus on them rather than on the absence of the most prominent figure at the event. Wherever you looked, The Axe was notably absent. Of course you already knew where he was. He was probably bringing the poor victim to the gallows at that very moment. You knew the ritual well enough by now.

The executioner would go to the prison and then pick out the culprit. Then, the culprit would be carted to the outskirts of the forest, at which point The Axe and his victim would be dropped off and The Axe’s assistant would drive the cart back to the Axe’s home. Then, the Axe and his assistant would both make their way to the hanging site. Of course, the assistant would arrive first, and then the Axe would come through the clearing. Then, once they’d both arrived, the event would begin. That’s how it always was, it was how it always would be. A part of you wondered if there was another way. The thought of letting a murderer go free seemed unthinkable, but did they have to die themselves? You didn’t know. Somebody with more time on their hands might have been able to think over the problem more thoroughly, but as it was you only felt opposed to the executions, but weren’t able to think of any other good solution.

You watched the crowds slowly grow in number as they bumbled around your stall. The bread and buns were flying off the shelves at this point. Muffins were devoured before your very eyes. The throng of people was generating an electric buzz in the air, crackling with the winds through the trees. Judge Holten looked out over the crowd with a disdainful eye, Father Kim behind him with a more sympathetic expression. Even from here, you could see him shivering in the cool air. With how his hands had withered away, you figured they were probably more sensitive than ever.

Whispers rippled through the crowds. As with any gathering, you heard stories from all around the village. Some talked about the local drunk’s latest antics at the tavern. Another rumour was about what an old woman was doing with her pets in the shed out back. Someone mentioned that the butcher was getting a bit steep with his prices. Another said the nuns were getting frustrated with the lack of provisions provided to the church as of late. All these stories curled around the air with a whimsical twirl. The stories ranged from the banal to the completely bizarre in nature. The ones about the old woman and her pets stood out as a particularly egregious one.

You chuckled at the latest tidbit of gossip being thrown your way. You waved the man off with a big toothy grin and turned to help the next customer. To your surprise, it was none other than Salvatrice.

“Salv!” you beamed as you packed her usual order, “I didn’t think you were back yet!”

Salv played with an arrowhead between her fingers as she said, “Well, the raptor was pretty easy to track. It was too big to hide from me for long.”

“So, a successful hunt?” you asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Salv nodded, “a good hunt.”

“Great! So you’ll be selling it soon?” you queried.

“Once Tor breaks it down,” Salv frowned, “but he’s getting pricey these days.”

“So I heard,” you mentioned as you served a different customer.

“He’s asking for nearly a quarter of my wage now,” Salv grumbled, “I can’t keep up with that! Hunters don’t make that much, you know?”

“You’ve let me know a few times before,” you replied easily.

“Now he’s going around asking for a hundred stones. I can’t afford that! Nobody can!” Salv clenched her fist around the arrowhead.

“I’m sure the prices will go down,” you assured her, “Tor can’t keep charging those sorts of prices for long. The people in this village just can’t afford that.”

“Maybe, or maybe they’ll keep paying them because there’s nobody else,” Salv clenched her jaw tight.

“Well, I hope not,” you scrunched up your face, “I don’t want to think what people would do. The last cycle was bad enough as is.”

“I think it’s because of the last cycle that he’s charging these prices,” Salv shook her head, “he realised he can get away with it.”

“But those were desperate times,” you pointed out.

“And all the businesses took advantage of how vulnerable we all were,” Salv leveled a glare at you, “they learned from our weakness.”

You shook your head free of her thoughts, “No, I’m sure there’s a good reason. Tor isn’t a bad man. He’s not like that.”

“You say that,” Salv spat bitterly, “but I’m not so sure. I think he’s a blorgron.”

You glared at the dark haired hunter fiercely, “Don’t say that! We’re all just trying to recover after the flooding and droughts.”

“At the expense of the people!” Salv retorted.

You cringed and held up your hands meekly, “I don’t know. It’s not my place to say.”

Salv stared you down with coal-black eyes. Hot burning coals burned through your clothes to your very soul. Hatred, fury, injustice, it all flickered through her eyes before she settled on one final emotion: defeat.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she sighed, “you’re a vendor just like Tor. But,” she gave you a resigned half-smile, “you keep your prices affordable at least.”

“We try to,” you handed out another loaf of bread, “Uncle always wants to raise them up, but Auntie won’t let him.”

“She’s a damn good woman then,” Salv determined.

“She’s sometimes a good woman,” you grumbled, “she’s a slave driver if you ask me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you,” Salv gruntled.

“I suppose so,” you said. You turned to say more to her when the crowd broke out into a roar.

Salv smirked as she took a bite of the beetle meat bun, “Looks like the show’s started.” 

Salv slunk into the obscurity of the crowd as you peered over the edge of your stall. You couldn’t help but stare as The Axe came into view, easily a head and shoulders above everyone else at the clearing. His hood fluttered around his clavicle with the wind as he strode forth. He looked around the clearing with blank eyes before they fell upon you. Immediately, they lit up with bright recognition, and just as they did, the light went out and he was back to the blank mask of before. You were the only person in the entire crowd to notice how he stumbled slightly when he moved past you to the Criahlin’s stone.

Once they got to the stage, the prisoner was finally revealed to you. A wiry man with a thin, pinched face. His eyes burned dark with a silent rage, furious and clawing inside him like a ravenous beast.

Judge Holten watched The Axe guide the man to the center of the stone, then down into a kneeling position. You winced sympathetically.

“Karl Hoffman,” Judge Holten pulled out his thick book of laws and perched it on his bulging stomach, “thirty-eight cycles, father of eight cycle Klara Hoffman and ten cycle Mathilde Hoffman. Husband of thirty–two cycle Martha Hoffman. Employed as a fishmonger, but was found out to have joined the Raptor’s Claws to steal a living as a highwayman.

“Karl Hoffman is accused of three charges of manslaughter, the assault and battery of two different women, battery of six different men, and accused of stealing over twenty thousand faces. For these charges he has been sentenced to death by choking,” Judge Holten smirked as he shut his book and tucked it under his corpulent arm and turned to face Karl, “you are a damned man, but I will be giving you one last chance at redemption. Do you take Halax as your lord above, in this life and beyond, forevermore?”

Karl turned his thin neck to glare down at Father Kim. You watched as Father Kim stood tall against the withering stare, unmoving in the face of evil. Karl pulled his head back, then spat directly into the priest’s face.

Karl turned back to look at Judge Holten’s reddening face and gave him a twisted grin with a mouth full of crooked teeth, “No sir, I don’t think I do.”

His whispering voice sent chills up your spine. The display itself was unthinkable. How anyone could revoke the name of Halax, especially in their dying moments, was beyond you. You stared, gobsmacked as Judge Holten awkwardly shifted his robes over his protruding belly and waddled side to side. Judge Holten glanced over to Father Kim, who had carefully used his coarse brown robe to wipe his face clean, marring the markings he’d painted onto his face that morning.

You glanced between the men as Judge Holten looked to Father Kim, he himself shaken by the flagrant display of utter disinterest in any form of honor or redemption for himself or his family. You trembled slightly as you waited for anything to happen.

Father Kim stepped forward and presented a bowl of black ink to Karl. The man tried to move out of the way, but The Axe clamped onto the back of his neck and kneeled into his legs. Father Kim gave the executioner a long, thankful look and then went on with his work. He gently placed his forefingers into the ink, then gently pressed them onto the man’s forehead. With a shudder of his shoulders, he painted a large eye on his forehead, then two slashes crossed over it. Father Kim rose back to his feet and steeped back with a mournful shake of his head. The Axe stepped back to hover by his side.

You watched as Judge Holten turned back to the crowd with a shaky breath. He looked up, his watery red-rimmed eyes glanced around before finally settling back on the crowd.

“Karl Hoffman has declared to the court that he does not wish to be reunited with Halax in the next realm. As such, he is declared lost, and Martha, Mathilde and Klara Hoffman are hereby stripped of their citizenship and declared lost as well,” even the horrible Judge Holten trembled like a leaf before he straightened up and turned to the hooded man by the back of the stage, “my Axe, if you’d please.”

The Axe stepped forward from the back of the stage to take the back of Karl Hoffman’s neck into his hand. He screamed bloody murder and thrashed against the giant man’s grip, kicking and spitting like a wild animal. The Axe tried desperately to give him one last chance of dignity by letting him walk up the ladder himself, but Karl immediately tried to dart into the woods. Within a couple of steps, The Axe had his hand back on the back of his neck and gripped it tight as he dragged the man back to the ladder. With one hand on the ladder and one on his victim’s neck, The Axe slowly crawled up the ladder while Karl dangled limply at his side. He tried to kick the ladder over but Father Kim was quick to stabilize the two. Karl screamed until his voice broke when The Axe rose to the top and finally looped a noose around Karl’s neck. With nothing left to do, The Axe slowly lowered Karl and left him to suffocate.

Karl kicked and gripped at the noose around his neck, lifting himself just barely to scream profanities at the gathered crowd. He spluttered and spat before he turned to his wife and cursed her and his children like nothing you’d ever heard before. Meanwhile, his wife watched him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Her rudy hair waved in the coming breeze as she watched her husband use his last moments not to declare his love to her, not to apologise for his actions, but to spew hatred the likes of which nobody there had ever seen. Even from here you could see her struggle to keep her wailing children at her side. Their littlest daughter stared up at her father with big black eyes, so much like her father’s but filled with sadness and love instead of hatred and fire. You could only imagine her asking her mother what it meant to be lost, what it meant now that their father was gone.

Karl Hoffman continued to kick and spit, but his grip grew weak and he slowly slumped into the noose. At that point, you turned away and focussed on packing up the rest of the bread. Some things were better left unseen.

Glossary

1. Halaxwake: The first day of the week/God-Watch

2. Poppernickens: A species of flower characterized by tiny five-petal flowers that grow in bunches along a tall stalk. Large round leaves shoot out along the bottoms of the stalks. The flower seeds can be ground to get a floral spice used in cooking. Leaves can be used as salves for burns.

3. Twineweed: A long vine once considered a pest plant, but is now used to weave fence posts together to create natural fences. The large white flowers are toxic to most animals, but the pollen has a pleasant smell that some people use as perfume.

4. Wink: An alcoholic beverage made from fermented fruits. Farmers often collect any fruit that spoils or grows poorly and use it to make wink for the end of the year. Each batch has its own individual taste. Usually, years with plenty of rain make the best wink.

5.  Vigil: A minute in their time, a bit over a minute in our time. Used as an expression for a short amount of time.

6. Elves: A warlike species known for being the best hunter/warriors on the continent. Their brutal culture is widely feared by others. Many believe that if elves were more intelligent, they would have organised to take over the continent and wipe out all other species. As it is, they are known for their brawn more than their brain, and thankfully they are too curious and entertained by other cultures to attempt genocide. They find all other species weak, but amusing enough to take as slaves for their own entertainment.

7.  Brak-Hah’s-Eye: The sun, the center of their solar system

8.  Corpse Flowers: A group of species of flowers that grow near decay. They are often seen as cursed flowers, and use of them is heavily prohibited by most laws. However, they are known to be excellent pain killers and excellent disinfectants. Have a notably bitter, sour taste. Look somewhat like snowbells or lady’s slippers.

9.  Turning-Time: Season

10.  Poke Bear: A tiny species of bear covered in spines. The animal will occasionally roll into a ball and charge downhill at its prey. Other times, it uses its long spined tail to defend against larger predators.

11.  Sweetlin: A round, sweet fruit, much like an apple but larger and more filling.

12.  Swintlin: A very sour fruit covered in a thick, black skin. Very citrusy and used in both sweet and savoury cooking and baking.

13.  Loch Tree: A type of coniferous tree that grows in the northern Mormonian forests. Grows to eighteen meters in height with long branches spiralling around to form a canopy below. The pine needles are hard, and often used as sewing needles to make clothes. The sap can be used for glue. The wood is notably difficult to work with because it is so hard, and it has a strong smell that lingers for years to come. Makes poor firewood because the sap forms large pockets in the wood, and when heated up explodes.

14.  Stone: Slang for a face. A face can be broken into one hundred fragments, which refers to cents. Every face is composed of one hundred fragments. Slang for a face is a stone, slang for a fragment is a pebble. Used as currency.

15.  Blorgron: A large, fat and unintelligent lizard with a broad head and a stumpy jaw. Equivalent to a pig, but a simple herd animal. Known for being simple minded and territorial over food. Often considered to be symbols of gluttony.

16.  Declared Lost: When an individual is legally declared lost, they lose their rights as a citizen in their nation. They are considered lost from the light of any god, and as such are considered lesser citizens. They cannot vote, cannot marry nor divorce, cannot receive medical treatment or any form of charity from the community. Many fall into complete poverty as others refuse to be associated in any way, lest they be dragged down with the lost ones. To be declared lost is the greatest social punishment a court can give out. Many will leave to go into exile because of the shame of being lost.

Part 2

Part Three

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

Full Fic on KoFi Here