#again this order is simply the order in which i thought of these

[livelaughlovesubs]

HII NINI can i ask for ‘forcing them to crawl on their hands and knees’ and ‘grinding their face into their own mess(with a foot pressed behind them if you may)’ with dazai pleasee i just know he’s pathetic enough to come untouched from that thank youu

Dom!reader x sub!dazai - reader is gn

Warning: pet play!!, teasing, dirty talk, use of pet names, begging, (pre)cum eating, masochistic dazai, stepping

That reminds me when I decided to write sum’ angst for the first time, it was about dazai with abandonment issues, and people just WOULDNT STOP ASKING ME TO WRITE MORE CUZ THEY LOVED PATHETIC DAZAI SM???

He was such a good little pet. At times annoying, but still overwhelmingly fun. To be more specific, he was perfect for you, just the right amount of pathetic, just bratty enough to not overdo it and simply adorable. That smug little smirk he wears when he disobeys you, like right now.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to enter the room. A few moments ago you gave him the order to come in after he finished washing up, which is why you were waiting for his arrival. Once he opened the door, he leaned against the frame and smiled at you, asking almost innocently, “you called?” He was wearing a bathrobe that revealed his chest ever so slightly. “Yes, come closer.” You waved your hand, making yourself comfortable now that he’s here.

“Why don’t you tell me why I’ve been summoned?” He stroked through his hair, some water droplets dripped down from the ends. You stared at him, not expecting him to misbehave already, “I thought you’d know better, puppy.” Dazai chuckled, as if he expected you to say that, and immediately answered, “oh what to do, i don’t know anything~” while he talked, he brought the back of his hand to his forehead, the other one holding his clothes together.

“Can’t you explain it to me again?” The brunette pondered, pouting after he finished his sentence. You caught him sneaking some glances over to you while giving a show. “Hah- have I been too lenient with you? To think you’ve forgotten how to act around me.” Of course you knew this was just another defiant game of his, it was something he did whenever he wanted to mess with you. Normally you’d brush it off, but this time, maybe you should play along.

“Then listen to my orders carefully, puppy.” You leaned back a little, raising your head high up, “firstly, strip.” For a split second, you saw his eyes change from calculated to excited, before he went back to being collected. “Will I be the only one stripping? Oh y/n~ that’s so perverted.” He turned his head to the side, to hide behind his raised shoulder for a bit. Look at him acting like some shy virgin, was he going to ask you to be gentle as well?

Soon after, the white fluffy robe fell down to the floor. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but he wasn’t embarrassed yet. “Are you going to stare all day?” The male asked with a light grin, taking a few steps forward before closing the door behind him. “I was being considerate towards you, or do you want to be touched so badly?” He slowly walked over to you, answering in a cheeky tone, “of course, you’ve been starving me of affection lately.”

Suddenly you raised your hand and said, “stop,” and so he did as you wanted, stopping in the middle of the room. You sighed deeply, almost as if disappointed, then sneered, “don’t walk, crawl to me.” A shudder ran down his spine, and he clenched his hand subconsciously. “Crawl? Why should I do that…” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, also signing, as if copying you. You didn’t let this irritate you and simply replied, “don’t you want to earn my praise for a change?”

His ears turned red when he heard that, but instead of retaliating any more, he dropped down to his knees and looked up at you, “please praise me plenty then, master ♡” What’s this? Look at him suddenly being all docile, crawling to you on all fourth and keeping eye contact the whole time. This man, unbelievable, he really had no shame.

As soon as he arrived, he positioned himself in front of you, still on his knees all nicely with his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “Have I been good?” He almost mewled, smiling so brightly with crimson cheeks. Your hand stroked through his hair, watching him nuzzle into your palm. He’s trying so hard, it’s making you almost feel bad.

“You did pretty well, but…” you slid back on the mattress, until you could place your foot on the back of his head. Afterward, you stepped down, forcing him to bow his head. “Look at that mess your little tail made.” An amused chuckled slipped from your lips, and you couldn’t stop grinning at his flustered expression. The blush was even spreading to his shoulders now, how adorable.

Dazai stared at the ground right below him, not like he had any other choices anyway. And it was evident what you meant. His poor hard-on has been leaking the whole time, without him noticing his own arousal. Most of his precum dripped all the way down his shaft and onto his thighs, though some also coated the floor beneath him. Before he could even ask for forgiveness, you pressed down harder, resulting in his face being mere inches away from the poodle of mess he himself made.

“I’m sure a good dog would know what to do?” You’ve been mumbled, noticing how he shuddered at your every word. “Y/n, I-” he couldn’t finish his sentence before you grind his face into the liquid, muttering almost to yourself, “so cute.” He whined at the harsh treatment, feeling his dick twitch in excitement. Without further delay, he stuck his tongue out and licked, making sure to make loud slurping sounds as well just to put on another show for you.

“Hnnnghh~ mhmm… uhm, mmghff…! ♡♥︎♡” More whimpers escaped his throat, and his eyes rolled to the back to his head. His body felt so hot, so electric. Hot tears steamed down his rosy cheeks. He could feel the pressure of your foot against his head, as well as his stomach curling and flutter. Simply hearing your low, slightly hitched breathing made his heart pound. After all, it meant you liked what he was doing, so he was doing a good job, right, right?

“Good boy.” You complimented him, holding your own head with your hands. “You’re doing so good, such a pretty boy.” He continued to lick across the dirtied spot, feeling a rush of heat coursing through his veins. The taste of his own fluids were maddening. It didn’t exactly have a taste, but just the thought of it and the act of doing it in front of you made it special. And exactly because he was so into it, you couldn’t stop the praise from spilling, “You are my good and obedient puppy, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm- mGhUuu~♡♡♥︎..!!!” Suddenly he moaned against the cold ground, and his toes curled. You were a little surprised which is why you moved your foot, wondering if he was actually chocking. Once he raised his head though, you understood what was up with him. Hah. This fucking pervert, cumming all over the floor over nothing.

His eyes were glazed over, hazy while his tongue hung out of his mouth. Tears and drool decorating that pretty face as he whispered meekly, “m’ sorry~♥︎♥︎♡” You stayed quiet for a moment, calming yourself down as little muffled laughs rang in his ears. After that, you teased, “maybe I shouldn’t have praised you so early on. Oh well, it just means you have to clean it again.”

[14dayswithyou]

Ren's favourite colour is purpleeee!~~ ✨🎆

I don’t think I did my secret phrase correctly so I thought I would send in an ask again.

What’s Ren’s toxic trait?

We already know he’s the classic possessive yandere, but what other things does he do that would seem unhinged?

⌞♥⌝ Ren is essentially just the "classic possessive yandere"... There isn't much more to him other than that ghsjghs

But if I had to pick a toxic trait that makes him feel more... unique(?), it'd probably be his doormat and people-pleaser attitude when it comes to Angel. I've seen a lot of yanderes with the "my way or the highway" mindset, but none that would really lean into the "dere" aspect of a yandere.

Ren is so delusively in love with Angel that he's willing to alter the entirety of his appearance and personality for them, treat Angel's words like it's gospel, and put their morals, opinions, and values above his own. If Angel asked him to kill River, Hannah, or even his own mother Ichika — purely because they didn't like them — he'd do so without remorse. He'll cut ties, backstab, manipulate, and extort the people he holds close (which... doesn't say much gjhsjg ^^;) if it means gaining an inch of Angel's approval.

Most yanderes would just kill their rivals to be with their obsession, but Ren is far too much of a pushover to upset Angel like that. He knows that simply killing Angel's friends would make them sad, so he'll only resort to murder if he has no other choice. But in saying that, Ren is the founding CEO of gaslighting and manipulation, and he isn't above trying to sabotage Angel's relationships in order for them to "naturally" cut them off instead. All it takes is a single, "B-But Angel... Your friend is being so mean to little ol' me... 👉👈" from Ren to get them to reconsider /hj

But, again, Ren is also your cliche stereotypical yandere; so stalking Angel, stealing their belongings, being obsessive and overbearing, and killing insignificant people are naturally a big part of his personality as well!

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of honey (Geta love story)

Summary: Lucius has to go to war, Geta waits for him. Lots of angst and fluff and smut.

Previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, Part 4, Part 5, part 6, part 7

"You have been distracted, Lucius."

It was early morning, and they were on their way to Aequilum to witness the remnants of devastation left by the Phytians, who had since moved north. Lucius and Marcus rode at the back of the column, while general Mantius led the army ahead.

Lucius frowned. "What do you mean?"

Marcus was silent for a long moment before speaking again. "Listen. You are like family to me, and because of that, I will be honest with you—you're making dangerous choices." He slowed his horse. Lucius raised an eyebrow. Marcus had not spoken to him in such a manner ever and it took him by surprise.

"You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw what happened back there." Marcus added.

"I’m not following, sir."

"Infatuation, Lucius."

"Are you referring to me and Geta?"

"I am."

Lucius shook his head in confusion. "I did what we agreed was best—keep him alive and present him as an olive branch to the empire."

"Precisely. But that’s not what you’re doing now, is it?"

Lucius grew increasingly frustrated. "I did what I had to do to keep him alive!"

"Yes! Keep him alive, not fall in love with him!" Marcus raised his voice, causing the soldiers ahead to glance back. He immediately lowered it. "Not only have you made yourself an easy target, but now you’ve ensured they have two."

"What are you talking about?" Lucius ordered his horse to a halt. "And who is 'they'?"

"Don’t play ignorant with me." Marcus ground out, his tone sharp. "Look at how they treated your mother and Acasius, knowing how they felt about each other. In the end, both were killed."

Lucius was taken aback by the coldness in Marcus's words, who was clearly not done with whatever he had on his heart.

"Affection is a liability. You simply cannot afford it."

Lucius didn’t know what to say. Pretending he didn’t care for Geta seemed foolish now. Everyone had seen them together. He knew Marcus was right—he had always known, deep down. But he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He had started to care for Geta to a point where there was no turning back.

"And don’t forget," Marcus added, "you yourself mentioned the power vacuum we’re facing now that the twins are off the throne. You’ve read the reports—at least some of them."

The distance between them and the column of soldiers was growing rapidly now they were both standing still. Marcus’s face grew harder, the lines between his brows deepening. "There are rumors of a growing group of supporters from Caracalla and Geta’s realm, people unhappy with the choices you’ve been making. You need to take this seriously, Lucius. You must."

To Lucius, the past weeks had been consumed by preparations for the battle against the Phytians, securing the trade routes—and, admittedly, worrying about Geta. Any additional threat had seemed distant, insignificant. The reports that mentioned such threats appeared to be little more than rebellious murmurs.

Now, Lucius feared Marcus might be right. His concern for Geta had clouded his judgment, causing him to overlook a growing danger.

"In politics, especially in your position, there is no place for adolescent infatuations." Marcus concluded.

Lucius opened his mouth to defend himself, feeling like a child being scolded by his father. But Marcus raised a hand to silence him. "I know you’re not solely to blame. I should have intervened much sooner."

Lucius swallowed hard. His throat felt dry. "Who’s leading this group of the opposition?" He asked, feeling like he should already know the answer.

"We don’t know yet. Most likely someone from the previous Senate," Marcus said. "There doesn’t seem to be a clear motive, which makes it difficult to assess the threat."

Lucius nodded, deep in thought now. "When we return, I’ll ensure a thorough investigation is conducted."

Marcus didn’t respond, clearly still unconvinced. They rode in silence for the rest of the morning. Then Marcus spoke again.

"I have one last question."

Lucius looked up, pulled from his thoughts. "Yes?"

"You must promise to be honest with me."

Lucius nodded.

"To what extent do you trust Geta? How much do you share with him?"

Lucius paused. Physically and emotionally, he was starting to trust Geta with his life. Politically, however, he kept his distance. Perhaps it was the delicate nature of their positions and the way they obtained them, or his doubts about Geta’s political judgment.

"He can be trusted. But I don’t share political matters with him."

"And he doesn’t mind?"

"No."

That was a lie. Geta did mind—especially the lack of freedom in his current position. He hated being treated like a puppet.

"Don’t you think it’s a bit naive to assume that he does not care much, considering he was an emperor of Rome less than half a year ago?"

Lucius sighed, not liking the condescending tone of his advisor. "He does mind. But it’s not what you think. He cares more about his autonomy than power."

Marcus gave him a long, searching look, clearly unconvinced. Lucius, growing frustrated and tired, asked, "Can we drop this for now and focus on the battle ahead?"

Marcus gave a curt nod. "Alright."

They camped that night in Silvanus, a small town nestled beside a dense forest. Soldiers and townsfolk mingled, sharing stories of Phytian raids and the hardships they had endured.

Lucius’s mind remained distracted.

Over the next three weeks, Lucius and Mantius led their troops through a grueling series of campaigns, steadily driving the Phytian forces out of the region. Marcus stayed behind most of the time but joined the strategic meetings every night, helping plan their next moves.

At night, Lucius often lay awake, thinking about Marcus's words—and about home. He missed the comfort of his bed, the luxury of good food, but mostly, he missed Geta’s scent and wakeful pressence. He thought about the softness of Geta’s lips, using those thoughts to smooth away the horrors of battle he’d witnessed that day.

The victories came at a cost—supply lines were stretched thin, and the soldiers endured harsh conditions and relentless skirmishes. But Roman discipline and strategy ultimately prevailed. The Phytians were decisively defeated, their forces scattered. The trade routes were secured, though the cost of victory weighed heavily on the army. It was time to return home and rest.

----

When Lucius finally returned and entered the main hall he noted delighted Geta looked much better. His cheeks were rosy, his skin regained a healthy glow, and the gauntness had almost entirely vanished. He wore a spring-green tunic that dipped low, revealing the top of his midriff still wrapped in white cloth. His movements were more agile now, fluid—closer to the grace he once possessed.

As soon as he saw Lucius, he immediately dropped his breakfast and rushed to him, flinging his arms around his neck.

He pressed his lips to Lucius’s cheek, then dropped his face against his shoulder. "I missed you," he murmured into the fabric.

"I missed you too." Lucius replied, lips against his hair. He was aware of the people around them, not having forgotten the words of Marcus at the start of their journey. Any displays of affection should be limited from now on.

After a long moment he broke the embrace and held Geta by his shoulders.

"You look good," Lucius said, then grinned. "But you definitely need a haircut."

Geta grinned back. "I know." Then his expression faltered as he stared at the bruise on Lucius’s forehead, mostly hidden by his hair.

"You’re hurt," Geta said, concern evident in his voice.

Lucius reached up and gently touched the bruise. "It’s nothing."

Geta pushed his curls back to get a better look at it and shook his head. Then his eyes scanned the entirety of Lucius's body. "And the rest? All intact?"

Lucius smiled. "No broken bones, just some scratches and bruises."

Geta narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. Lucius couldn’t help but laugh. He wasn’t used to seeing Geta fret over him. Lucius's absence must have weighed heavily on his mind.

"I’ll see Ravi now. Join me before dinner for the preparations?" Lucius asked.

Geta nodded. "I had some new outfits made for the both of us."

"Made friends with the seamstress, I see?" Lucius said, though not surprised. Geta had always had a knack for surrounding himself with beauty.

"Of course. It’s the most valuable of friendships to make at court." Geta replied, smoothing a hand over the lush fabric of his gown.

After being stitched up by Ravi and cleaned in the bathhouse, Lucius made his way to his private quarters.

Geta was standing in front of the bed, a few gowns spread out on the linen. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and when he turned around, Lucius’s gaze immediately fixed on the scars. They were dark pink but didn’t look bad at all.

Lucius approached him. "They’re healing well," he said.

Geta nodded. "Pius says it’s quite remarkable how well my body is responding so far."

The words melted Lucius’s simmering worry, and he felt instantly lighter. "I’m glad to hear it," he said softly and reached out to trace the skin around the scars with his thumb. Geta’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Lucius’s eyes drifted to the gowns displayed on the bed. "So, do tell me, what did you have in mind for tonight?"

Geta pointed. "Gold and white embroidery on ocean blue. It’ll match your eyes."

"And you?"

"The same."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. Geta looked up at him. "It will match with you. That’s enough."

Lucius knew this was the moment to protest, to suggest something practical and unremarkable. But when he looked into Geta’s eyes, the warmth pouring out, he could only nod. He licked his bottom lip. "It’s beautiful."

When they were both dressed—with the help of two servants—Geta sat down on the bed.

"Come here," he said.

Lucius frowned and slowly walked over to the bed.

"Come lie here, lay your head in my lap," Geta ordered gently.

Lucius removed his sandals and climbed onto the bed, then lowered his head onto Geta’s thighs. He sighed deeply. Suddenly, he felt impossibly tired. The ride home had been long, and the emotional weight of the past month—the battles, the mind-games, the stress—came crashing down, pulling him into the bed. He closed his eyes.

Geta’s fingers skimmed over his features, almost as if mapping them. He brushed the pad of his index finger lightly over the bridge of Lucius’s nose, then under his closed eyes, skimming his eyelashes. Finally, he reached Lucius’s mouth. Geta dragged his finger over the seam of his lips, which parted slightly on their own.

"Open wider," Geta demanded.

Lucius briefly complied, allowing Geta’s ring finger to slip inside, making contact with the wetness of his tongue.

Heat pooled in his stomach, but Lucius gently shook his head, his eyes fluttering open. "Not now," he said, his voice thick with desire. "We’re already late."

Geta frowned, clearly disappointed, but he nodded. "Okay, let’s go."

----

The celebrations were lavish, a reflection of the victory that had secured the region. The hall was a blend of gold and rich jewel tones, with candlelight flickering across the marble floors.

The food was plentiful, a feast of roasted meats, fresh fruits, honeyed cakes, and wine that flowed freely from golden goblets. Laughter and conversation filled the air as the nobles and soldiers mingled, exchanging stories and toasts.

Lucius and Geta, both wearing their matching gold and blue garments, stood out amongst the crowd. Geta’s gaze never strayed far from Lucius, his movements synchronized with his every step. It was as if they were tethered together, a quiet understanding passing between them.

"Let’s go outside," Lucius whispered when he noticed the sun beginning to set.

Geta looked up at him, searching his eyes. Lucius kept his gaze on the crowd.

"Wait five minutes, then meet me in the garden by the sculptures," Lucius said.

Geta nodded quickly.

Lucius made his way through the people, politely declining invitations to converse. He exited the hall and entered the garden, the cool June air tinged with the scent of cypress and myrtle. He breathed in deeply as he made his way toward the statues of Venus and Diana, where the last light of the day cast everything in soft hues of honey, yellow, and gold.

It didn’t take long for Geta to appear, slightly out of breath. Though his health was improving, he still wasn’t fully recovered. When he reached Lucius, Lucius immediately took his arm and pulled him into his embrace. He groaned softly, the sensation of having him close feeling more right than anything - anything. His hand slid from Geta’s back up into his hair, pulling his head back to expose the column of his throat. Geta’s eyes closed.

Lucius leaned in, his tongue following a path from his collarbone all the way up to Geta’s jaw, making him moan softly. Geta’s body turned heavier in his arms, weight dropping backward, and Lucius held him tighter. He found Geta’s open mouth and kissed him deeply, exploring with his tongue, swallowing his gasp. Geta pulled back, not to breathe, but to flick Lucius's upper lip with his tongue before sinking his teeth into Lucius’s lower lip. Lucius groaned, letting him continue, his hands slipping under Geta’s fabric, tracing his spine up to his shoulder blades. He arched into him, wanting him closer, skin to skin, the desire nearly overwhelming.

Just as Lucius was about to drop to his knees, voices from behind the cypresses broke his focus.

He straightened instinctively, pulling Geta against his chest, and stepped behind the statues into the dense greenery. They waited there, the air thick with the sound of their breaths. Geta’s heart pounded against Lucius’s chest, his cheek pressed into Lucius’s.

When the voices grew quieter, Lucius loosened his grip and looked at Geta, whose cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and hazy. He licked his lips.

"Let’s go inside before anyone notices we’re gone," Lucius said with a sigh.

---

Lucius let Geta enter the room first while he lingered in the halls, avoiding suspicion. But when he joined the crowd and walked over to their table, Geta was nowhere to be found. Lucius scanned the room, then decided it best to sit down. Minutes passed, then half an hour, but Geta didn’t show up.

Lucius grew concerned. He got up and checked the other tables before moving toward the halls on the east wing. But Geta was not there either.

As the party-goers began to leave, Lucius couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Ravi hadn’t seen him. Neither had Pius. Even Marcus didn’t know where he had gone.

"Just get some sleep, Lucius," Pius reassured him. "He’ll undoubtedly turn up in the morning."

But Lucius couldn’t sleep. He wandered back to the garden, unable to understand where Geta could have gone in the few minutes between their departure and his return to the room. The garden was dark and empty.

Frustrated, Lucius went to his private chambers and sat on the bed, going over every possible explanation in his mind. He sank into his pillows, exhaustion creeping over him, unaware that Geta was tiptoeing in moments later, careful not to wake him.

Please let me know what you think and if you have any requests! Love to hear your voices. <3

Taglist: @potato1d-blog1, @joan2914

[mybelovedfleur]

,,𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶" 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝐼

(Yandere!Silco x Amnesiac!Fem!Reader)

!TW! FantasyAU! Heavy Yandere Themes, Silco is ooc for sure, vomiting, sick!reader, violence, mention of death, violence, dark yandere, I will tag every chapter seperately! :)

Description: ,, A series of unfortunate events causes you to completely lose your memory. Now, you find yourself thrust into the role of the Duchess of Zaun, married to a man you don’t recognize. But was this ever truly your life? And why does the scent of blood cling to you, no matter where you go? "

Note: english is NOT my first language, I am very much open for critique and suggestions but pls be nice and respectful :c I DO NOT support any of these behaviors!

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

Silco leaned over you, concern in his eyes, as if the slightest sign of your pain hurt him just as much. He carefully adjusted the pillow so that you could comfortably rest your injured head on it.

"Do you feel worse? Should I get a doctor?" he whispered with tension in his voice, the trembling note betraying how much he cared about your health.

You haven't shown the slightest interest in leaving your bed all morning - a completely different behavior from your determination yesterday.

No wonder Silco noticed it right away. Seeing that you didn't even try to get up to eat breakfast, he became clearly worried. From that moment on, he constantly circled you like a tireless bee, trying to help you in every way possible. Instead of comforting you, his excessive concern began to irritate you - it was the first time he seemed so burdensome. You were overwhelmed by the dark memories of the nightmare that still weighed on your mind, and Silco didn't give you a moment's respite to simply delve into your own thoughts.

,,I feel like I always do, I just don't have the strength. It's nothing serious" you said, finally trying to calm him down. But Silco didn't look convinced. His gaze wandered over your body, as if stubbornly searching for something that could betray you

,,I have an important meeting today... " he whispered under his breath, clearly to himself, but you heard it clearly. You didn't have time to say anything, because his gaze fell roght back on your face.

,, It doesn't matter" he said in a confident tone, his voice firm" I'll stay with you"

If you had more strength, and the wound on the back of your head wasn't throbbing with irritating pain, you would have surely jumped up.

"No, please..." you said pleadingly, staring at him. "I don't want to be a burden again. You hardly leave my side anyway"

Silco froze for a moment, as if your words had hurt him more than he would like to admit. When he finally spoke, his tone was unexpectedly serious.

"Don't ever say that again" he said firmly.

You sighed, feeling the weight of guilt gripping your heart."I just don't want to stop you," you began quietly, struggling to gather your thoughts. 

"I want to prove to both of us that I can handle myself, even in times like these. If you go to this meeting... I'll be truly happy"

Silco stood up and began to pace nervously around the room, you could almost hear the grinding of his teeth. His hand involuntarily went to the scarred side of his face, which he rubbed as if trying to quell the growing frustration. You waited tensely, holding your breath, wondering if your words had angered him.

"The servants are well trained" he finally said, his voice full of reluctance, as if each word was difficult for him. "They know what to do. Don't hesitate to send for me if something happens, or if you simply need me."

His gaze finally met yours.

"I'll drop everything and come to you" he added with such intensity that you had no doubts about the sincerity of his words.

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─ 

It wasn't like you hadn't noticed the estate workers before – they were there, but rather like shadows moving in the background, silently carrying out your husband's orders. They were the ones who helped you with more intimate activities, such as changing or washing. Although it made things easier for you, you quickly noticed that Silco approached this matter with clear reluctance.

When you first asked for a new nightgown and the opportunity to wash up, he fulfilled your wish almost immediately. However, his reaction to this request exceeded your expectations - before you knew it, he was already filling the bathtub with water, sitting you on the stool next to it. When with unwavering determination he wanted to help you take off your clothes, you felt your face immediately turn red like a beetroot.

Embarrassed, you calmly asked him to let you do it yourself. His expression was hard to read - as if he was fighting with his thoughts. From that moment on, he waited for you outside the bathroom door, visibly anxious and even outraged whenever one of the servants helped you with something that he felt should have been his role.

 Now, you had a real chance to make contact with them, maybe even have a short conversation. Up until now, everything you knew about your life had come from Silco's mouth. His stories, while very romantic, were undoubtedly tinged with his feelings, perhaps even idealized – which was no surprise, considering the way he was devoted to his role as your loving husband.

The prospect of hearing something about yourself from an outsider, someone who wasn't emotionally attached to you, seemed almost exciting. It could be a chance to look at your life from a different perspective – and perhaps discover something new about yourself.

You were being looked after by three women: two middle-aged and one clearly younger. They were all dressed in impeccably ironed black uniforms that emphasized their professionalism. They moved around you with mechanical precision – their movements were so perfect and synchronized that they almost resembled some sort of machines. Silco wasn't exaggerating when he said that they were highly trained.

 Your ambitious plans to start a conversation didn't go so well at first. You were too nervous, and their distant attitude only increased your embarrassment.

It was only when the younger girl was left alone in the room to change the sheets on the bed that you felt it was the right moment to speak up. So you broke through, saying the first words

"What's your name?" you asked, trying to make your voice sound natural, although you yourself felt slightly embarrassed. The girl, noticeably surprised, stopped for a moment, as if wondering what she should do, whether to answer you at all.

 A moment of silence passed, which seemed to last forever, before finally, with a nervousness in her voice, she answered

"Erin, my lady"  she somehow radiated a warmth that immediately worked in your favor, and you felt your self-confidence begin to grow.

"Erin" you repeated. 

You noticed how the girl visibly relaxed, and a delicate, almost shy smile appeared on her face.

"Tell me, how long have you been working here?" she put down the pillow she was working on and finally turned her full attention to you.

"Only a month, Ma'am" she replied. As soon as you heard her words, you sighed with resignation.

"The entire staff has been here for a month" she added quickly. At these words, you looked up, and your eyes narrowed in a sign of dissatisfaction and suspicion.

"How so?"

The girl, now clearly regretting speaking, began nervously adjusting her uniform.

"The Duke replaced the entire staff after your accident," she explained quickly, as if these words were supposed to calm the situation, although they had the opposite effect.

You wanted to ask for details, for reasons, for what exactly had happened, but before you could say anything, the door flew open. One of the older women entered the room with a silver tray full of medicines.

The older woman gave the girl a reprimanding look that was telling enough for the young maid to immediately return to her work, lowering her gaze like a guilty child.

When the servants finished their duties, both women bowed low and asked if you needed anything else. You forced yourself to briefly deny it, even though your thoughts were screaming to stop them and force out more information. A moment later, the door closed behind them, leaving you alone in the room, again.

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─ 

By the end of the day, your strength had returned, at least enough to get out of bed and sit on the edge. You still felt a slight weakness in your legs, but the knowledge that at least you had managed to overcome your constant fatigue was comforting. On the nightstand stood a silver tray of medicines – the same tablets whose bitter taste made you nauseous, and whose effects locked you in a numbing fog. You looked at them with reluctance, the dark purple – almost black liquid standing in the cup almost made you nauseous by its very sight. A decision was made in your head – not now. You would use this moment, when your body finally did not betray you, and Silco did not hover nearby like a guard watching over a prisoner.

Without the constant feeling of sleepiness, you finally felt like your thoughts were your own—clear, clear, unencumbered by the fog of medication. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could look at your situation clearly. For days, weeks, maybe even longer, you felt like Silco had not only taken control of your life, but also of what you thought and felt. His words, his presence, even his care—all seemed to shape your reality.

But now, as that grip eased, the truth began to weigh on you, something here was wrong. The situation you found yourself in was far from normal, no matter how beautifully Silco tried to present it. There were too many of his versions of events in this story, his sweet promises, his comfortable half-truths. And the answers you were desperately searching for? There were none. There were only gaps, silence, and then his narrative again. You could see it clearly now—and it was that clarity of mind that made the weight of it all seem unbearable.

You knew that if you wanted to regain even a shred of sanity, you had to get out of this room—this claustrophobic prison where everything seemed to reek of control. You wanted to feel the fresh air, to touch the earth in the garden that had only existed for you as a view through closed, unyielding windows.

But you couldn't. Your body was betraying you, just as it had been betraying you all these days. You knew that if you tried, your legs would give out and you would eventually collapse to the floor—helpless, weak, unable to even get up. The arms that should have held you up would fail. Your imagination showed you the image of Silco entering the room, of you lying there—motionless, completely defenseless, yet more proof that you should have listened to his commands.

The thought squeezed you from the inside, and the frustration you had tried to suppress surged like a wave. You felt the stinging tears welling up in your eyes, the helplessness choking you in your throat. You yearned for freedom so much, but you were a prisoner of your own body.

As if all that wasn't enough, you still felt the weight of your nightmare from today, never leaving you. It lingered in the back of your mind like a persistent shadow, blurry but still clear enough to send shivers down your spine. There was something disturbingly familiar about the nightmare, something that wouldn't leave you alone.

Raised voices could be heard from behind the door leading to Silco's office. They were muffled, but their tone indicated that this was no ordinary conversation - it was an argument. You easily recognized one of the voices as Silco's. The other voice, however, was unfamiliar to you, although unlike your husband, he didn't care about the volume of his tone, probably not knowing that someone on the other side could hear them, the words were still too distorted for you to understand anything.

Your eyes automatically went to the tray of medicines, and then to the door leading to the office. Common sense told you to stay in bed, but something else - curiosity, anxiety, maybe even instinct - told you to act. Pushing aside all logical thoughts, you slowly shifted on the bed, trying to get closer to the source of the sound. However, despite your efforts, the voices were still indistinct, and frustration grew inside you.In a burst of courage—or perhaps mad stupidity—you decided to do something more. 

You grabbed the bed frame, bracing your shaking hands on it, and struggled to your feet. The wall was your only support as you took your first step toward the door.

When you reached your destination, your heart started beating faster, but this time not from the effort, but from relief. You made it – for the first time, you had crossed the entire room without anyone's help. But that feeling of pride only lasted a moment, because suddenly you heard the slam of the office door and quick footsteps, clearly heading your way. Your heart froze in your chest. You didn't have time to back up or think about what to do. 

The door opened abruptly, almost hitting you in the face. You were leaning against the door frame and the handle to keep your balance, but the sudden movement took away all of your support. The world around you blurred, and you felt yourself starting to fall. Before you could touch the floor, you felt strong hands grab you at the last moment. 

The grip was firm, almost too strong, you looked up and looked straight into Silco's eyes, which shone with something between surprise and irritation. His face was drawn, as if he was fighting to keep from exploding with anger, but you could clearly see the shadow of concern that was breaking through his mask of composure.

"What are you doing?" he hissed quietly, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and concern.

Silco wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer, so that your faces were almost at the same level. You felt his hands grip your waist tightly, holding you in place as if to make sure you didn't disappear from his field of vision. His gaze was intense, piercing, but you avoided it, lowering your gaze and whispering barely audibly:

"I heard noises outside the door... I got scared" your voice was shaking. Silco narrowed his eyes, then looked away, glancing over your shoulder as if searching for something behind you. But that only lasted a moment. His gaze quickly returned to you - now full of irritation, and his expression changed as if someone had turned off the mask of composure he always wore.

"Why didn't you take your medicine?" he asked, anger growing in his voice.

 "Why are you trying so hard to disobey me?!" before you could say anything, his hands moved to your shoulders, gripping them tightly, his voice growing increasingly tense. Before you could protest, you felt him shake your body. Not hard, but enough to force you to look him in the eyes. His hands seemed to desperately hold you to him, as if they were trying to force you into obedience. 

"Look at me" he growled, his voice shaking, but it wasn't just anger anymore. There was something else in his eyes, behind the facade of anger - fear.

Your gaze remained fixed on your hands clasped on his torso, however, Silco clearly had no intention of waiting for your reaction. In a burst of frustration and desperation, his hand moved to the back of your head, grabbing a spot that had not yet healed. Before you could react, he forced you to lift your head and look him straight in the eye.

Pain exploded like fire, spreading throughout your body, and a sudden, suffering cry escaped your lips. Silco froze, as if he had only just realized what he had done. His hand immediately let go of your head, and the rest of your body recoiled in terror, it was enough for your tired legs to give out. You fell to the floor, with nothing to hold on to.

For several long seconds, Silco stood motionless, as if what had happened was unreal to him. His gaze, filled with anger a moment ago, now seemed as if something inside him had snapped.

As you lifted your gaze, trying to catch your breath and control the pain, something about the image before you seemed strangely familiar. Silco stood still, his silhouette silhouetted against the warm glow of the dying fire in the fireplace, but your eyes could no longer focus on the details. The tears that had welled up in your eyes began to blur reality, and you felt as if the room had suddenly become dark.

You blinked once, then twice, and the image before you changed. Instead of a room, you saw something that resembled a scene from a nightmare. Silco stood before you in the rain, his clothes soaked through, drops running down the material in a rhythmic, almost hypnotic pace.

The entire figure seemed to be taken from another world, yet terrifyingly real at the same time. The only thing that remained clear in this illusion was his injured eye. It glowed in the darkness like a cursed light.

You didn't know if it was a memory, a hallucination caused by the pain, or something more. But one thing was certain - at that moment the line between reality and nightmare began to blur, and you felt like you were drowning in this darkness, the epicenter of which was him.

You curled up on the floor, burying your face in your shaking hands. Tears flowed steadily, hot and stinging, as if burning paths into your skin. The pain, both physical and mental, seemed to take over every aspect of your existence.

"Drink," you heard suddenly, his voice hard, almost impervious to argument.

Before you could protest, you felt Silco lift you off the floor. His movements were surprisingly gentle, though you could feel his hands shaking.

Before you knew what was happening, a silver goblet touched your lips. The dark liquid, the sharp smell of which filled your nostrils, was thick, viscous, its bitter taste immediately hit your taste buds, almost causing a gag reflex, but Silco didn't stop

"Drink" he repeated, this time more insistently, and his free hand held your face, not letting you turn away

You felt the liquid pour into your mouth, and he forced you to swallow. His hand, although shaking, was unwavering, and his gaze was focused on only one thing, regardless of your protests.

When he finally moved the cup away from your lips, you felt the remnants of the liquid run down your chin, leaving a sticky trail on your skin. A few dark drops landed on your nightgown, staining the delicate material.

Your body began to betray you – weakened and tired, unable to fight any longer. Your head fell limply, and Silco gently supported it and placed it on his lap. His touch, although full of anger a moment ago, now seemed almost tender.

You felt a piece of his shirt wipe your face. It was a rough, yet surprisingly caring attempt to wipe away the tears, the traces of liquid, and the pain that seemed to be etched into your skin. His gestures were mechanical, as if he was trying to recreate something a loving husband should do.

Your eyelids began to close, heavy with fatigue and tears. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence surrounding you, although you didn't feel safe at all. It was more than resignation – it was capitulation to fate, to him.

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

Taglist: @missbeeentertainment

Notes: I'm sorry if there is a lot of mistakes, I was writing it on my phone which has a polish auto correction, and I do not know how to turn it off :( Thank you so so so much for all your love and support, every time I see a notification I feel so grateful for every one of you! Thank you so much and hopefully see you again! <3

[vmlnrzmp4]

seungcheol leaned against the polished car, a nonchalant look on his face you—the rebel princess—stormed out, your eyes teary, "take me far away from this royal chaos," you ordered. he nodded silently, opening the car door for you.

the car sped through the highways as seungcheol glanced at you. you exhald, a tear rolling down your cheek which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

without a word, he reached into the compartment, giving you a handkerchief, knowing damn well to not speak unless spoken to.

“i hate this, seungcheol,” you said, dabbing away the tear. seungcheol’s eyes remained on the road ahead as you vented it all out.

“i understand, princess,” he replied in a soothing tone.

“don’t call me that,” you sniffled.

a little silence followed before he spoke again. “so, where are we headed, princess?”

“dont call me that—oh my god," you exhale, frustrated.

“where are we headed, y/n?” he asked again, with no teasy tone.

“i don’t know, seungcheol. just drive.” you say, gazing out the window.

“won’t your parents—”

“no. don’t talk about them.”

“i might get fired if—”

“just drive,” you interrupted, refusing to let him finish his sentences.

“all right. a silent three-hour drive. noted,” seungcheol said, adjusting the rearview mirror. “but before that, we have to visit the gas station.” you simply hummed.

the car pulled into a dimly lit gas station, seungcheol parked, and you both stepped out into the chilly night air.

as he began refueling the car, you leaned against the side, deep in thought. “it’s strange, finding comfort in a place like this.”

seungcheol chuckled, his hands still busy with the pump. “no surprise. this is new for you.”

you glanced around at a flickering neon light, “i never imagined a gas station could be a refuge.”

he finished refueling and joined you, a playful glint in his eyes. “life is full of surprises. now, shall we continue our journey into the unknown?”

“...”

“princess?”

“seungcheol, my parents…they’ve already started arranging suitors for my marriage,” you admitted.

a subtle change crossed seungcheol’s expression, a disappointing emotion surfacing in his eyes when the topic of suitors arose. “oh,” he exhaled softly.

“seungcheol?”

“yes?”

“um…let’s go?”

he simply nodded. with an understanding silence hanging in the air, you both climbed back into the car. the engine hummed as seungcheol zoomed onto the highways.

“three hours of a silent drive. am i right, princess?”

you turned your head to look at him. “no, not silent.”

“do you wish to play some music?”

“no. i want to talk to you. and i want you to talk to me. like a friend. we’re hardly three years apart, seungcheol.”

“i’m afraid i can’t do that,” he said, changing the gear.

“why not?” you asked, frustration hinting your tone.

“because, y/n, i can’t simply be a friend when my heart whispers a different story.”

“...what do you mean?”

seungcheol simply took your hand in his, holding it so delicately, his lips brushing against your knuckles.

sensing the need for a moment, he steered the car toward a deserted place.

“why here, seungcheol?”

“because i need to do this,” he replied, undoing the seatbelt and leaning toward you, capturing your lips with his in a chaste kiss. “unexpected turns,” he murmured.

“what now, seungcheol?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, “i don't know where to go?" you query. and no, you didn't meant the question literally. there stood a deep meaning to it and seungcheol read it like an open book.

he intertwined his fingers with yours, placing a quick kiss on the back of your hand, “then we’ll figure it out together.”

[wulfrann]

10 Fandom, 10 Characters, 10 People

Thanks @moondal514 for the tag!

Rules: name 10 of your favourite characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people to do the same

This is an impossible task so I'm filling this up with how I'm feeling right now, impulsively, without thinking about it too hard. Ask me tomorrow it would be different. Also the order is arbitrary and means nothing.

1) Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist

THEE original gender envy. The boy. I thought I wanted to be with him when really I wanted to be him. and kiss Winry. Manga of all time. What else is there to say.

2) Ellana from the Ewilan & Marchombres Series by Pierre Bottero

She's the best Marchombre that ever was. She writes poetry. She's hot. She has claws. She is my childhood hero and role model. She is the best Bottero character ever. I am in love with her.

3) The Biologist from The Southern Reach by Jeff VanderMeer

I don't know her name and I don't care. If the first tome wasn't from her perspective I probably wouldn't have been so invested. I would never want to fix her because whatever's wrong with her is way more interesting. I wanna go look at tide pools with her even though she'd hate that because she'd much rather be alone.

4) Joy Wang from Everything Everywhere All At Once

Honestly choosing just one character from this movie is impossible, but Joy telling her mother that she's just tired is Top 10 moments of cinema that made me burst into tears. Also: she's gay. Also: she's depressed. Also: what a fucking icon. Also: her costumes.

5) Dean Winchester from Supernatural

Choosing between him and Castiel is fucking impossible but I had to follow my heart of hearts and if I had to choose I knew I had to make this choice. It is very cringe of me to shun THEE gay angel like this and I am very ashamed of myself but he would agree with me, so. I had to. Dean is simply too deeply unwell in such specific ways that I cannot resist the brain worms. Although, without destiel? He would be nothing to me.

6) Captain K.P. Hobb from Dimension 20: A Court of Fey and Flowers

Tragic furry goblin man. His pathetic devotion to a court and its values in spite of their being drastically at odds with his honorable and rigid nature has bewitched me.

7) Fi Carmichael from Planetes by Makoto Yukimura

Everytime I re-read the arc that's centered on her and her family I sob like a little kid. Also she almost died to prevent a terrorist attack just because she wanted to smoke a cigarette.

8) Cliopher Mdang from the Lays of the Hearth-Fire by Victoria Goddard

Kip my best friend Kip. He invited the Sun on Earth, God-emperor of the world, to take a vacation, and it changed the fucking world. Number one most epic secretary ever. He has 50-something cousins. I want to be invited to one meal with him so bad, I just wanna talk to him like for 5 minutes, I know he's the busiest man in the Empire and also he's not real but like. Pretty please.

9) Sam Gamgee from the Lord of the Rings

THEE holder of hope for the whole trilogy. He's in gay love with Frodo and he can't carry the ring but he can carry him. I wish to kiss his forehead.

10) Andrew Minyard from All for the Game by Nora Sakavic

It's really hard to pick one character from this insane series but I mean. I had to.

Tagging: @aoquesth @lackluster-violet @poetic-ivy @planavarium @polzkadotz @newbornmoon @svnroom @cupcakedyke @herobrineawakening @makebelieveanything