#aryll leomne x reader

[love-toxin]

thinking about that 'rubbing coke on my gums so when we kiss he thinks I'm god' meme but instead I'm biting my tongue so Aryll gets a little blood treat when we makout ❤️ my wonderful and caring doctor who wants to tear a hole in me and fuck it

Oh!!! That's a one-way ticket to Aryll proposal station hehe 💍

(cws: blood, spice)

Knowing Aryll loves blood is one thing, but knowing he loves it and giving it to him readily is something he's so pleasantly baffled by. Most normal people wouldn't even think of indulging their lover in such an unconventional way, but you do, and that's because you're perfect. If he didn't have half as much self-control as he does, he would lovingly rip you open just to watch every organ pulse with you--but that's a level of self-indulgent harm he won't bring to you, because the consequences would just be too dire.

But Aryll does have a problem with your skin; he's so obsessed with the way you're made up that sometimes, in the heat of the moment, he gets too excitable and can't tell what's a hole and what isn't. Sometimes he rabidly humps your thigh and is so drooly, eyes glazed over with lust, that he can't tell through your clothes that he's not lined up with a hole at all. He just ruts into you like he's intent on making one, and god, he really wants to.

He might try it one of these days--he has to take over as your clinician, after all. Ken can't be trusted with you, nobody can, nobody but him because he adores you and he wants to care for you in every way you need. He wants to "forget" to put on his gloves and do his inspections with his fingers, he wants to hear your shy giggles when he ducks his head under your gown and promises he'll check things out quick--only to kiss and tongue at your warm flesh and tease about how you kept everything pretty for him. You don't have to, but he thinks it's cute that you do. Cause your quiet, caring doctor is gonna fuck you bloody and sloppy anyways, even if he has to lock you in the room with him so the other staff won't walk in on him balls-deep in his favourite patient.

[love-toxin]

How likely is Aryll to kill their darling in for of blood/flesh lust?

Oh, he'll get close! Disturbingly close. But unless you're especially delicate, Aryll will probably have few problems keeping you alive. His level of self-control is surprising and he's had lots of practice--unless you do something especially heinous, he's not going to torture you beyond what you can handle. In fact, if you do betray him in the worst way, he'll do anything but kill you until the very end (And that's definitely not a Bad End you want, so best to ignore that part!).

It's more likely that he might bleed you out by accident than...."devour" too much of you, but even so, he has plenty of equipment to bring you back from the brink, even if he has to do a bit of frankensteining to get you there. He's an O negative blood type, so he's a universal donor baby! And how romantic would it be if he transfused his own blood into you? He might cum a little bit if that happens but it's okay! Aryll will get to know your limits quickly even if you're not a prior patient, and you should be fine. Well...not unscathed, but mostly fine!

[love-toxin]

going insane thinking about being arryl's darling being a medical assistant or nurse whose none the wiser about his dietary preferences until they accidentally catch him in the act at work in a way that's undeniable. just absolute shock and before they even have time to process the cannibalism their coworker is ON them. medical malpractice and getting kidnapped double whammy bc my work friend whose apparently obsessed with me needs me to keep quiet about the patient eating and medical malpractice

mmmnnnggghhh!!!

(cws: minor character death, blood, needles, scalpels, non-graphic cannibalism, slight lewd)

word count: 885

The way a pin could just drop and it'd be all you hear. The stare you're sharing with Aryll is so deep, so static, that you can practically feel the intensity of his pupils dilating, his hands poised over the patient that you'd just coded not ten minutes prior.

The older gentleman still has the sheet over his body, but the middle section has been cut, the bloodied scalpel gripped in the blond's soaked fingers. You can hardly believe what you're seeing, but it's an unshakable image: Aryll, one of the resident surgeons, is standing over a fresh corpse with a tool for healing in his grasp, and a cooler–the top slid over and leaning against it–sitting next to the bed where he's cut open your former patient. The senior was a victim of a car crash, the trauma to his spine too much for his heart to bear, and he died in cardiac arrest just minutes after leaving the ambulance and hitting your table. The DNR was mentioned mid-resuscitation and you left it, left him to die in peace and dignity as his breathing faded away with his slowing pulse.

You distinctly remembered Aryll, who had been standing by for aid, offering you comfort after your patient passed; you'd observed over the last few months that he was always better with patient deaths than you were, even the more traumatic ones. Maybe as a surgeon he'd simply built up a tolerance to it, you figured.

But…not at all like this. This was not something you ever envisioned you'd see, much less from someone you knew and respected in equal measure.

“Aryll..” Your voice echoes shakily, and the surgeon stands up, bringing his knee down from its place on the bed. His eyes are so wide, manic. There's a door behind you, cracked open as you froze in place at the sight. Your fingers manage to close around the handle, but Aryll slams it shut with one hand and smothers your lips with the other before you can even manage to scream.

“Sh,” His urging ripples shivers through your body, fear surging down your fingers to scratch at him in defense. He takes them too well without flinching, like he's done this very thing before–like he's used to them fighting–swings you around, and shoves you back against the cupboards full of a variety of medical supplies. Your ears are ringing enough to know he's hit your head hard, but the pain hasn't quite set in by the time he tilts it back and holds the scalpel to your throat. “Shut up. Just shut your-” With your last moments of freedom, you flail your hand out and slap him across the face. It leaves a mark, but aside from sweeping his hair astray and putting a sinister glare in his eyes, his grip doesn't get any looser.

Only tighter.

“You think I won't kill you?” He whispers under his breath; the soft beeps and chatter emanate from beyond the corridor, sounds of an average hospital wing on any normal day. But they have no idea what's unfolding in one of the rooms where patients go to die. Finally, a muffled yelp escapes you and you stiffen as the tip of the scalpel digs painfully into your throat. The teeth of the trap are finally bearing down on you tight enough for you to realize it's too late to run. And you're just trying to ignore the fact that Aryll's hands are still so slippery from the blood trailing down them, dripping over some old, faded cuts on his wrists. He follows your gaze silently down to the scars, and takes on an unreadable expression.

His hips shift–you hadn't taken much notice to them in the struggle, as he'd pinned you to the wall entirely with his own body–but you notice now. The weight of his belt buckle pressing into you…the much tighter, heavier swell of something beneath it, grinding awkwardly into your leg. He mutters a soft “fuck” under his breath and tries to readjust, but there's no way he can ease off without giving you the slack you need to get away. He seems…frustrated.

“You always do this to me..” Aryll mumbles, his gaze flitting back to the bed and then returning to you. “Even without knowing it.” Your eyes silently beg him not to kill you, and somehow, even after what you just saw, you feel some sense that he won't–or at least, that he's reluctant to.

That sense of relief, however, is ill-fated; as is obvious by the subtle pinch that draws your attention downward, and the realization dawning on you of what’s about to happen when Aryll withdraws the needle back into his pocket, and you slump as he lets the scalpel clatter to the floor to catch you. He murmurs something in your ear even though you're already on the brink of consciousness, so you won't recall what reassurance he was trying to offer you. But you will remember the dull fear throbbing in your eardrums as Aryll holds up your limp body, and gently kisses your neck to smear the blood that swells at the little wound he left as a scar. And how delicious you must taste to him, after pining for so, so, so long.

[love-toxin]

Aryll is activating the blood lover (and doctor/hospital kink) in my brain. 'Nooo don't get turned on by the idea of opening me up <3' i say as i kick my feet in my hospital gown

HEHEHE!!!! >:)

(cws: gore, blood, medical kink, medical drugging, somno mention, etc etc)

Aryll's all professional and demure as he prepares for the surgery but on the inside he's losing his mind. He practically snapped at the nurse on duty when she tried to come help you get settled in, only to flash the most artificial smile and reassure her he has everything handled as he shuts the door in her face. He just wants time alone with you to get to know a little bit of the person that's going under his knife, because rarely has he ever met someone so...soft. Soft eyes, soft voice, soft skin--he bets your heart would be soft too, and your lungs, and everything that makes you you.

He's so hard under his scrubs it borders on painful as he brings you your gown, lets you undress, takes a risk and promises you that he's going to see everything anyways, so you don't have to change in the stalls out in the hallway if you don't want to. He won't stare only peek. He knows he's gonna get to see your blood soon so he just has to silently remind himself to wait, just wait, don't touch yet, don't scare them off, don't hurt them before it's time. There's good harm and bad harm, and he would so desperately like to introduce you to pain in the good way--where it's intimate, loving, careful, and best of all, survivable. Aryll has you lay on the gurney and lifts the papery skirt to mark the incision areas with a marker god this is almost his favourite part, and when it's time to apply the anesthesia he goes against the code, cause he's done this a thousand times or more, and he'd rather not have another witness in the room while he puts you under. He doesn't want to explain the hitch of his breath as he adjusts the knob and lifts the mask, nor the tremors in his voice as he explains the process briefly and instructs you to relax, and especially not the visible tent in his pants when he leans over you to hold the gas to your face and watch you drift off as he softly counts down. If he had more than only a minute or two to get you to the operating room, god only knows what he might do while you're so unconscious you won't feel a thing.

But today he'll play good doctor, and deftly snap on his rubber gloves as he joins his colleagues to open you up. If only he could do this in private, somewhere warm and comfortable, where you two could be alone...but alas, that dream will have to wait for now. Surely there will be more opportunities to get your blood on his fingers again, so long as he practices his patience.

[love-toxin]

Aryll's mom targeting his new beloved 😬

aryll:

But for real, Aryll's mother would never see the light of day again. He can ignore his own pain, he's used to that--he's really, really good at it, actually. He just wanted to move on, and forget all the ways she ripped his innocence and happiness from him, but there's no going easy on someone that wants to hurt his most treasured. You might not see him for a few days, but don't worry, he'll leave you food and water and a few sweets as an apology for leaving you by yourself for a while. But when he comes home, it's best not to question why he's soaked from head to toe in blood.