Monster Under The Bed Boyfriend - Nybras (NSFW)

Monster Under The Bed Boyfriend - Nybras (NSFW)

This train takes too long, you feel. Tired after work you want only one thing - to come home, eat dinner, change into something comfy, jump between the sheets and let your boyfriend make you forget everything else. Your monster boyfriend, that lives in the shadows under your bed.

You have to smile when you remember meeting him. You moved into a new house and one of the rooms already had a bed in it. An old, massive antique, carved from walnut. You fell in love with it on the spot. After the move was finally over and you were done with decorating the house, it took a couple of weeks for you to notice you were not alone. At first, it was the little things, like noises coming from upstairs, or finding a door open after you were sure you closed it just a few minutes ago. Things were going missing and you kept finding them different places. At first you thought your memory was just that bed, that you kept forgetting where you put things, but the noises were a different story. Steps, the sound of closing doors, and sometimes breathing. You were never afraid of ghosts, and up until now, it didn’t seem to be hostile, so you continued to ignore everything that was happening. You also thought that ghosts didn’t care about humans and what they did, so you continued to walk around the house half naked, and sometimes when you wanted to let some steam off and masturbated in your bed, moaning loudly. But sometimes you could swear that when you reached your climax, you heard a growl from under the bed and felt it vibrate a little, but it could’ve been just the blood roaring in your ears, and your muscles spasming, so you brushed it off.

Until you saw him. 

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In a Sleepy Town [Headless Horseman x Reader][pt 6]

Summary: “The horseman who rides atop his alabaster steed, cloaked in crimson without a head.”

In the sleepy town of Moorwick, you are drawn into the legend of horseman when you learn it is associated with your father’s disappearance twenty years ago. When the local ghost story turns to be anything but that, and a bargain goes awry, you delve into Moorwick’s dark history with hopes of saving more than just yourself.

———

Chapter Six: You are determined to get answers from the horseman regarding the whereabouts of your father. It goes horribly awry. To make matters worse, new information comes your way about the peculiarities of Moorwick, making the search for the horseman’s head far more complex and there are some people determined to keep it that way.

———–

The rumpled picture of Colson and your father stayed with you from that day on, laid flat against your chest in the breast-pocket of your coat. Having a piece of him so close to you meant something that you couldn’t place into words, only knowing that it had a heftiness to it, a presence so near to your heart that you could never forget it was there. The horseman had scared you that night when he took it, sent the blood racing into your ears loudly and your mind festering with anger.

You could not recall another moment where you felt so compelled to hurting. Just as an itch beneath the skin was unbearable, you thought fire burned in your veins through your fingertips. That anger did not belong to you, it felt almost as though something else wished to guide your hand.

Doubtlessly, the horseman was unflappable and you would have gained nothing in return. Your wrist would shatter and he would remain pristine, strength boundless, and your death imminent any time he so chose it to be. It made you wonder if there was a lingering piece of him that wished to destroy you still, after these long months nurturing something with him.

Your thoughts spiraled wildly, deteriorated at the notion of what could be. When he helped you find your father; when you returned his head to him, would he draw his blade on you again? Could you even manage to return to an office job in the city after all of this?

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Party Crasher [Headless Horseman/Reader]

Summary: AU Special!: With the town of Moorwick in the thick of its preparations for the holiday parade and unmasking the fake headless horseman, you briefly forget your commitments tot he true horseman waiting for you in the forest. It’s inevitable that this parade will go on record as the most memorable yet.

a/n: please make sure to read footnotes on this for back story and more info! 

————–

There wasn’t a soul in the eccentric town of Moorwick who knew of your secret. It dwelled there in the darkness amid the thicket and ancient, gnarled trees where no one dared to venture and where no light from town reached. You disguised your furtive, knowing smiles behind a hand, a mug, another smile that barely breached your facade. 

You could only assume that those who knew you best chose not to ask, while others who kind-of knew you weren’t sure what to ask. Undoubtedly, the air about you had changed from a year ago where you barreled into town with the ferocity and ardor of a stranger, a person who would not be derailed from their mission.

Now you were more subdued, but only a little. Moorwick had taught you that not all things needed to be spoken, yet everything that didn’t matter would be discussed first. So you instead talked about Sherriff Decatur, his lackeys, and ridiculous taste in cheap coffee; you prattled on for hours with Nellie in her shop about Nigel’s lunacy and impetuous choice in daily price changes for orange juice and beef jerky.

Weekly dinners with Asta Lang and Winston, the adoring couple of over seventy years, always set your heart aflutter and brimmed it with warmth at their stories from youth. Had it not been for Asta’s letter prompting your subsequent visit to Moorwick, you would have never known your best-kept secret.

Your secret was lost to the unforgiving movement of time, unaware of how the world around him had changed as centuries passed. And yet, the world knew of him and who he was. Moorwick had nurseries for children beginning to explore what existed beyond their front doorsteps; a man aboard an alabaster steed, cloaked in red without a head.

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Beautiful and Damned 7- Recover [Geralt of Rivia x Reader]

A.N: My loves, your wonderful feedback makes me so happy, thank you! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think of this chapter, kisses!

Reminder: This story will not follow the show’s plot, so even if you haven’t watched the series, you can still read it.

The previous chapters are on my masterlist!

Summary: Recovery comes with confessions.

Word Count: 3140

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death.

You drummed your fingernails on the table, biting inside your cheek. Your stomach was making flips as you tried to ignore the nervousness nagging at you and shuffled through your sketches to distract yourself. A specific sketch caught your eye but you turned it over as soon as it did.

So what if you had drawn Geralt, without him knowing?

It’s not like he would ever see it, nor did it mean anything.

You looked up when Cassie knocked on the door, then peeked her head in.

“Your highness, Sir Leander is here as you requested.”

“Send him in please.” You said as you put your gloves on, then straightened your back, your eyes narrowing as soon as Sir Leander stepped inside. He curtsied,

“Your highness.”

“Sir Leander.” You nodded at him, “Take a seat.”

He looked almost nervous for a moment, and you tilted your head, eyeing him up and down. He did look quite handsome, with striking green eyes and wavy hair framing his face, there was no wonder why Fin was quite taken by him.

“I’m glad to see you well,” he said, “I’ve heard you preferred the solitude of your chambers and were feeling unwell.”

“I feel much better, thank you,” you said, “Were you….at the hall when the incident occurred? I don’t remember if I saw you.”

“I was there, your highness.”

“Oh good,” you took a sip of your tea, “So you had the chance to see personally what this curse entails.”

“I did.”

“Great,” you smiled at him, and slowly pulled your gloves off your hands. He sat up straighter, swallowing thickly.

“Your highness, what-?”

“Do you know the punishment for harming the crown prince, Sir Leander?”

He eyed your gloves lying on the table, “No?”

“Exile,” you said, “Or death. Depends on the crime, really. People should really be more careful these days. I hear your family has a state at the skirts of the city, close to the countryside, is that correct?”

“We have been blessed with wealth, yes.”

“Very well.” You said, “Once the confinement is over, perhaps you would like to go there for a while…..a year or so. At least until the dust settles around here.”

He gritted his teeth, “Or what?”

You drummed your fingernails on the table, drawing his attention to your hands for a moment before you shrugged,

“Court is a very dangerous place these days,” you said, “Accidents happen, a lot.”

He blinked a couple of times, then leaned in, glaring daggers at you, “Are you threatening me, your highness?”

You smiled at him calmly, almost like a snake, then shook your head,

“Consider it as a suggestion,” you told him, and leaned in, “You’ve already seen what I would do to protect one of my brothers, Sir Leander. Would you like to see what I would do to protect the other one as well?”

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Warm Bodies

pairing: zombie!shigaraki x reader

contains: non/dub con, gore, the works

this is a zombie apocalypse au. ive never written for shiggy before but I was h word and watching the walking dead so. enjoy.

nsfw under the cut

He’d been following you for quite some time now.

He watched you survive day by day, laying waste to zombies with your machete, trying your hardest to keep surviving. You’d spotted his corpse trailing behind you once, and your biggest mistake was not ending his existence then and there. You didn’t know it, but the zombies were starting to change; they were starting to feel things again. And this particular zombie was hungry for something other than your flesh.

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Werewolf boyfriend Rolf (NSFW)

Requested by @nyx-daughterofchaos98 ❤️

***

Another attack, another robbery. This time it happened to the miller.

It was already a pattern. During the full moon, everyone in your village was going into hiding, bolting the doors and keeping some silver, if their household posessed any, at hand’s reach in case the pack chose their home as their next target.

They lived in an abandoned house in the forest, which they made into their den a couple of months ago. The pack consisted of a few members, led by Rolf, their alpha. You saw him a couple of times. Arrogant, hostile, walked around the village as if he owned the place. Well… he kinda did. His pack controlled everything and they took whatever they wanted from the people, and they didn’t do it in a gentle manner.

But after you saw the millers wife tending to the deep slash wounds on her husbands chest, from where one of the werewolves had pushed him away and his claws cut into his flesh, you felt anger boiling up in you.

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