#laying face down on the floor weeping

[unknownarmageddon]

Legitimately I am so deep in this qsmp pit it’s. Yeah

[jenna-louise-jamie]

alex rider is always stuck between “i want nothing to do with any of this. leave me alone. i didn't choose this.” and “this is my fault. it's my responsibility. i have to fix this even if i do it alone.”

he's fascinating. he's suffering. he deserves a hug. he deserves a break. he's never gonna get one.

[sforzesco]

@good--merits-accumulated #isn't there a scene in guardian where zhao yunlan is leaning on his motorbike with the lollipop very cool looking#except he's like. in the foyer of his building? like how'd he get in there#feel like that's pompey

wheezing this is so so true

but oh my god wait also. zhao yunlan and pompey….literally the way that priest writes scenes with zhao yunlan in love, whenever plutarch writes of pompey in love….I need to think about all encompassing loves and romances and what it means to be a lover in stories with inescapable violence for a minimum of five to seven business days……

[soapssuds]

+18, smut, mdni, f!reader, etc.

pt 1

You weren’t used to the attention that John was giving you. Your past partners never caring or giving a damn. So to feel just how much careful attention he is giving your weeping pussy is making your core throb and ache. And when he started to pull his fingers out, it made you whine embarrassingly loud.

The sound made him chuckle as he got up and pulled you along.

“Where- where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

That was another thing that made you almost lose your footing. You were never important enough for a bed. The hard floor or the lumpy, uncomfortable couch was all your dates ever brought you to. In your mind, however, you wouldn’t have minded John’s couch as it was more comfortable than the others you had the displeasure of sitting on.

“Are you sure? What about the mess?”

You couldn’t hide the way your voice wobbled as he ushered you into his room, his foot kicking the door closed as his hands gently worked on your pants, helping you shrug them off along with your panties.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, amusement clear in his features. And when you felt your clothing start to pool at your feet, you found that you were only dressed in your shirt and bra. The cool air made your thighs clench together.

“If I’m going to fuck ya, sweet girl, then it’s going to be in my bed. But before that…,” his voice trailed off as he helped you out of your shirt and unclipped your bra, the articles of clothing joining your jeans and panties, “I said I was going to have you sit on my face next.”

Without getting undressed himself, he pulled you along towards his bed. His hand gently tugging you forward when he sat down on the edge of, you now wedged between his thighs as he rested his hands on your hips, his fingers tracing lazy circles as he kissed your stomach. The feeling of him peppering you with kisses made you squirm.

“Well?”

“H- huh?”

He chuckled at your cluelessness, but didn’t dare make fun of you for it, “though I said where I wanted you to sit, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He leaned back, pushed himself to where he was laying face down whilst pulling you with. Your chest pressed hard against his as he let one of his hands trail and gently squeeze at the fat of your ass.

A part of you always wanted to try, but with your past partners hating the idea of giving you oral while also giving you a clear display of disgust, you sort of dropped the idea entirely.

But John is offering, isn’t he?

He isn’t the type of man to do something he doesn’t want to after all.

“Only if… you really want to,” you manage to say.

“That’s what I am asking you. Do you want to?”

You found yourself gripping at the front of his shirt, the way his fingers worked you open was still imprinted in your cunt, you really want to feel his tongue too.

“Yes, please.”

The moment the words left your mouth, he had you sit up so you were straddling his waist. You tried not to whine out too much when your wet cunt pressed down against his hardening bulge, and he didn’t give you enough time to feel him as he already got a strong hold of your hips again and gently dragging you up.

“You’re so nervous.”

You didn’t know where to put your hands as your bare pussy hovered just over his mouth. None of your previous partners ever really looked to hard at your slick, but John made a point to just analyze all of you.

“I- I can’t help it, I never did something like this before.”

He chuckled softly, his breath gently hitting your cunt making you squirm in his hold, “then I best ruin you for everyone else, huh?”

Not giving you any time to give back a retort, he planted you down, his grip strong as he easily held you in place as his tongue licked a long stripe between your folds. The sudden contact made you squeal as started to lap at you, his tongue not missing a single inch even as he toys with your fluttering hole. The tip of his tongue gently prodding before delving in.

The heat and feeling of his tongue was way different, and even better as he let one of his hands let go of your waist to trail downwards.

Your moans and gasps filled up the quiet bedroom accompanied by the wet sounds your pussy made against his tongue and fingers.

And you think between each flick of his tongue and pump of his fingers that he was right.

He was ruining you for everyone else… that is, if you even want anyone else after this.

[screampied]

Hii vegas!! Lil request 🙏🙏 brat taming w jealous!Sukuna BUTTTT with Sukuna doing it in front of his servants(if u already did this u can ignore this request!!)

—Sukunas no.1 glazer

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, jealous kuna, heian era! sukuna, exhibitionism, cōckwarming, dirty talk, praise, mdni.

it’s become known that sukuna doesn’t like when other eyes are all on you.

the moment he spots his servants laying their filthy eyes on his beloved favorite human, he scoffs in vex. the audacity, he didn’t like people staring at what’s his. but of course out of all days, you decided to be a brat. “c’mere,” a simple word and you were at his usual beck and call. the demon pats a hand against his manspread lap, ushering for you to take your rightful seat. his seat was his throne whilst yours was right on his thigh. taking your sweet, precious time and dragging your feet against the slick marmoreal floor, he snarls. “woman, don’t waste my time. my lap, now.”

“you all, c’mere,” he snaps his fingers with a sly eyebrow raise.

sukuna’s got a vicious gaze at his low ranked servants, a good dozen of them nearly shivering at his command. they create haste, standing in front of his throne, awaiting for his next orders.

“and lastly, you,” and his voice pitches a deep low. you merely gulp, feeling one of his arms sling around your waist, another creating a teasing trail down your nape. bringing a chaste kiss toward the outer part of your earlobe, he whispers salaciously. “you love testin’ my patience, huh. i was watching you earlier. i don’t like you giving my pathetic servants your precious attention.”

“oops,” you hum, and he’s not so fond of your cheeky attitude. as your back lies against his bare, broad chest - you’re facing the eyes of the fearful lackeys. still, they’re looking at you, some desperately wishing they were in your shoes.

oh, to be lucky enough to take a throne on the sukuna ryomen’s notorious lap. anyone who tried without his word would have easily been caught dead. alas, you were the exception. “was jus’ sayin’ hi, ‘kuna.”

“tch. don’t make me laugh, princess,” he murmurs, and your breath hitches once he sprawls your legs open a bit. “saying ‘hi’ doesn’t take you fifteen minutes, but i’ll spare you,” and with the way his voice delivers, it was a snarky growl underneath. timbre and haughty, you felt the sudden twitch between your thighs almost immediately.

he wasn’t gonna spare you,

in fact— you figured he’d do something else like maybe bend you over his knee and spank you. but sukuna had another thing in mind.

a thing where you’d be taking his cock right in front of his servants. staring them dead in the eyes as you’re creaming down their righteous king’s shaft.

as you’re barreling his hefty length, you shudder the moment you feel his second cock brush up against your sopping folds. they were stacked upon each other but your pussy’s main focus was on the one directly in front, not behind.

“good girl, easy. don’t go down too quick or ya might break,” and your body twitches in rapture once his feverish breath dances against your skin. “heh, ‘s that what you want? to be broken?”

“y- yes,” you mewl out, making a failing attempt to rock your hips against his lap. his servants claw their nails into their thighs, the awkward tension wafting against the air like wind as they just stare. the fact that dozens of eyes were seeing you like this made you throb. convulsing pulses multiply and shoot through your folds before a big hand wraps around your throat. chortling in a raspy manner, sukuna spanks your ass for you to hurry. sinking down on his thickset dick makes your toes curl - he’s big. chewing on your lip, you moan. “kuna, ‘s fuckin’ big, fuuuuck.”

“what a nasty fuckin’ mouth,” he growls, and another one of his hands goes toward your drooling, weeping cunt. a palm swiftly swats against your entrance, allowing your legs to sprawl wider and you whimper. “mhm, brat. this is supposed to be a punishment but y’er just turned on, huh,” and as you’re all the way down on his cock, feeling the tiny pressuring prod and pierce through your tummy, you nod against his chest. “thought so,” he chuckles lowly, stern ruby eyes leering toward his servants. “look at her. none of you will be this wet for me, acknowledge that.”

as he’s speaking to them as if they’re below him, and in this case—they were,

while another one of his hands toy against your folds, your slit dribbles with slick and you’re happily coating his base with your juices. your legs were about to collapse and you moan whilst sukuna’s pitchy deep voice rumbles in the background. his voice,

it’s heavily intimidating. booming and loud, no one dared to defy him.

it’s so gruff and smothered with authoritative baritone that it rings and reverberates throughout the sacred walls of his domain. his scent, his rich cologne scent clogs through your nostrils as your legs struggle to maintain its stillness. “f- fuck, ‘kuna ‘m not gonna l- last,” you whine, chest deflating within each breath snatching out your lungs. with a hand gripping his thigh, yanking on the silk made fabric of his kimono—you whimper. “s- sukunaaa.”

“such a sensitive little thing,” he tsks, cockily shaking his head side to side before one of his arms wraps around your torso. the demon’s cock, fat and all, buries itself completely into you and you moan the moment you try to grind back on him. it’s pathetic, all that bratiness earlier and now, you were already creaming. it comes quick, so quick that you barely even have time to react. his peeling foreskin that’s attached near the crown of his dick tickles against your gummy walls, relishing in your goopy grip. “oh,” he murmurs, feeling your sweet slick drench him from the base down. the entire time, the king’s got the most haughty grin, feeling your human body slump against his soft tatted chest in its defeat. “that was early, princess. a bit too early.”

you whimper, still coming undone and the white noise ringing in your ears only intensifies. panting repeatedly, you squeeze against his thigh before the only words you could sputter out was, “s- sukuna, ‘kuna- more.”

“heh, always a greedy girl,” he grunts, feeling his cock twitch at your simple plea. the pesky servants were appalled, witnessing such lewd activity before them. sukuna ryomen and his favorite human. with a titter, one of his hands gives your cunt a good squeeze, snickering at how you easily gush all out on the center of his palm. “who’s pussy does this belong to though, tell me,” and his eyes dart toward the little audience, his former jealously subsiding a bit. “tell our friends too, let ‘em know, princess.”

his touch was so sharp—you gasp, feeling an extra limb of his grab against your neglected breasts, a thumb flicking against your perky nipples that poke out of your cottony blouse. “ngh, belongs to y- you, ‘kuna.”

with a single hand, he turns your head, glancing near his extra peripherals of the incoming drool that’s seeping from the corners of your mouth. once he cranes your head, he makes you stare straight at his servants. “uh huh, tell them. tell them who’s pussy ‘s my favorite.”

“m- mine,” you moan, his touch making you shudder in utmost pleasure. glossy eyes meet the dozens of people - secretly sucking their teeth and growing envious of you, of you getting off to this entire thing. a few of them shamelessly yearned to be in your place, but they knew with you in the picture, they never stood a chance. “my p- pussy’s your favorite, ‘kuna. ‘m yours.”

“good girl,” he praises, and you’re still on his lap with his twitching cock shoved deep into your clingy walls. with a hand again, he turns your head to the side to face him briefly - sneaking a wet kiss near your lips for a few seconds. you moan, feeling the edges of his fangs and his forked tongue collide and mash inside of your mouth.

all hands of his feel and wander and roam against your body at such a slow pace, you whimper before he gives his unworthy servants one final side eye.

“show’s over. get lost,” he snarls, and they all scatter like flies. the large darkened room’s finally empty, and it’s just you and your king.

sukuna hums in amusement at your state, the brat within you nowhere to be found before he whispers against your ear. the final words of the demon not only makes your cunt twitch but a shiver runs down your spine. “seems like my girl needs a bit more training. now now, since we have some privacy, we should try one of my favorites. full nelson,” and he purrs.

“i wanna see you take both of me, princess. be a good girl ‘n bend over for your king.”

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt3

Warnings: Mentioning of needles in a medical sense, Cursing, Mentioning of death

Pt1 Pt2 Hyungline  (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

The room was bright, and everyone of Jisung's senses were clouded slightly when he woke up.

"Where-"

He looked up to see Chan looking at him concerned.

"You passed out and hit your head. You've been out for a minute. You worried us."

Jisung's face scrunched as he looked at Chan. "I didn't mean to...why did I..." The events of right before his fainting spell came to him at once and Chan watched as his face slowly crumpled.

"N-No no! Jisung don't cry please! She's okay! She's okay!"

Jisung's heart rate monitor kept hiking up. "St-Stop ly-lying to me! Sh-She's gone!" He wailed- his heart rate reaching extreme levels that spurred the appearance of three nurses.

They tried to calm him down and Chan talked to a nurse about giving him something to calm him down.

A subtle sedative was injected into one of Jisung's flailing limbs and within a few minutes he was calmed down enough to be considered safe.

Chris sat by Jisung's bed as he fell in and out of sleep, the exhaustion of the past day hit him.

He looked at his phone as Minho was calling him. He looked at the boba eyes boy, who's eyes were closed in what he was assumed was sleep.

"Hello...hey...yeah we're still here, Jisung passed out...yeah...she's okay...I've been splitting my time between his room and her's...both of her femurs are fractured and she's cut up and bruised, and her arm is broken but she'll be okay...I'm trying to wait until he's calm enough to bring him over...he won't even listen to me he's that distraught..." Chris sounded tired. "I hate to them both hurting...I'm going to cancel to schedules...no one should have to work after this...maybe apply for hiatus of Jisung..." Chan stood up and looked at Jisung who was staring back at him with wide eyes. "Minho I'll call you back."

Han sat up and looked at his elder. "Y/N...Y/N? Where is she-" He swung his feet over the bed, not even flinching at the frozen floor as they connected with his bare feet.

Chris guided Jisung by the shoulder and brought him to room a few halls down, nodding politely at the ladies at the desk; silently praying they wouldn't point out that it was past the time for any types of visitors. He led him in front of your door, and knocked lightly. "She might be asleep...I have to run back to the dorms real quick to grab you a change of clothes and update the boys they're worried sick."

Jisung nodded and looked at the bags under Chris's eyes and saw how dark and droopy they were. He looked like a tired dad, and that only hurt Jisung more.

Chris gave him a hug and gave him a peck on the head. "I'll be back soon, Jisung." As he walked away Jisung immediately walked into the room. His heart dropped when he saw you laying there on the bed- legs elevate and your arms as well, your eyes closed.

He almost couldn't recognize your face at first, with the purplish bruise and large cut on your cheek.

He walked over quietly and sat down in the chair next yo your bed, just quietly weeping next to you.

Tears of joy, relief, praise, sadness, pain, and heartbreak.

God thank you. Thank you. Thanl you.

He continued to weep quietly, as he reached for your hand on your uninjured arm to hold it.

He felt calloused and scabbed skin when he put his hand in it and looked down through his tear.

His index finger traced the dark scabbed that decorated your palm, and he felt a hollow pain in his heart. Despite all the other injuries this one hurt him the most, knowing that he was the direct cause for this specific one.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked over to see the love of your life crying over you hand.

"JiJi?" Your voice was raspy, and he instead of saying anything he started placing kisses on your palm in a silent apology.

"It's okay, love. I'm okay."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Y/N...it's my fault."

You shook your head viciously and winced with the neck pain; mentally kicking yourself for moving at all.

"Its not your fault Jisung. You weren't the one drunk driving. Nor were to the one distracted behind the wheel. Things like this happen in life; you just have to be grateful to be the ones that get through it." You swallowed and started blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I worried you so much-" You croaked. "Channie said you fainted and hit your head? Are you okay?" Your voice was heartbreakingly warm, and Jisung couldn't fathom why you were so kind to him at a time like this. When you were hurting so much physically, mentally and emotionally; you were still concerned about him.

He kissed your palm again and let out a shaky breath. "Stay with me."

You give out a small chuckle, but it hurts your chest so you decide just to smile.

"Sungie...I can't even walk." You joked. "My femurs are pretty messed up right now." Jisung continued to gently hold your hand as if it was something priceless; something extremely fragile and breakable. He rested his forehead against is and murmured.

"Then when you can walk again, don't leave. Stay. Cling to me. Walk towards me instead of away."

You smile. "Walk towards you dressed in white?" You joked.

"Yes." He said with 1000% seriousness in his voice. "I thought I lost you. That was a pain that I couldn't even begin to comprehend. If I ever lose you again...I don't know how I would deal with it...if I could...especially if I knew you left by choice..."

You felt your heart thump at a faster rate and cursed it quietly since it would bring the inevitable visit of a concerned nurse.

"I'm sorry. I truly am." He said, his eyes looking at you. They softly traced all the injuries, all though none of them compared to what he was feeling in his heart, what you were feeling in yours.

"I love you." You said quietly, those three simple words filled with so much that it quelled the negative feelings that were churning in his heart.

And even though he knew it wouldn't be something he could ever truly forgive himself for - even if you did - he was selfish enough to push that aside if it meant that he could be with you.

If it meant you would stay with him.

He kissed your palm once more, before laying his head near yours. His nose gently nuzzling your face.

"I love you more."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

FELIX|

When Felix walked into your home, he wasn't expecting you to be there.

But what he defintely was not expecting at all was you struggling to put together a new gaming station for him, looking at a super complicated instruction sheet for a chair and while sitting next to a bag filled with other electronics.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

You turned as the rich and deep voice you loved so much reached your ears. It had been days since you had gotten to hear it.

"It-It was supposed to be a surprise." You said standing up, bracing yourself for him to yell at you, or scold you. "I'm sor-"

You almost had the wind knocked out of you as Felix threw himself into your arms, inhaling deeply.

You hugged him back, feeling just how much he needed it.

His breathing was shaking as you heard him apologize quietly.

He reached for your hands to see if they were red from cleaning so much.

"I'm sorry baby. But sorry doesn't fix it. So what can I do-"

"I love you." You said. "I understand you were angry...it's understandable. So I went to go fix it!"

You pulled away and Felix was in disbelief of how positive and sunshiny you were. He would consider you even more like sunshine than he was.

And with that he felt and overwhelming sense of love and appreciation to the one in front of him, as he watched you explain to him what you had been doing the past few days (odd freelance work for extra money) and how you had went to buy him replacements for all the things you had ruined by accident.

"I thought you'd like this one cause it was blue but I'm not sure..." You mumbled. "It wasn't as expensive as you last one so I'm sorry if it-"

You looked up to see Felix crying with a smile on his face as he bent down to look at you while you knelt on the ground organizing pieces.

"Lix, are you okay?"

He nodded, his freckles scrunching up as he smiled even more, reaching to cup you face with his cool hands.

"I'm more than okay, Y/N." He said. "More than okay."

You looked at him with wide eyes and he couldn't help but plant a bunch of kisses on your face as a musical giggle escaped the lips he soon captured in his own.

You looked up at him as he rolled over onto the ground next to you, grasping your hand in his.

"I bought replacements angel..." He said, a smile playing on his face. "So now that we have two... we can take my old PC from storage and I can teach you how to play...?"

You looked at him. "But isn't gaming time your you time? I thought thats why you were so upset, since I had ruined something that was giving you detox time..."

He shook his head. "I had gotten into an argument with Hyunjin..." He said rubbing his thumb across your hand. "And I didn't manage my anger well towards you. I'm sorry, again."

He turned to face you while resting on his elbow.

"You're too good you know?" He murmured quietly, moving a few strands of hair out of your face.

"Lixxie...you're entire fandom call you sunshine..." You say, feeling your face heat up.

"Well that's because they don't know you well enough. But once they do they'll realize that you're the true sunshine in the Stray Kids world. Since you're my world..." He said leaning over again, resting his elbows on either side of you as he connected his lips to yours again; both sets upturned into a smile.

"I could never be mad you love...how would it even be possible?" He asked as he continued to press his lips against your face in a cute, but chaste manner. "It is impossible."

You giggled as he blew raspberries on you and you got up and looked at the boy you loved so much, knowing that you meant just as much to him as he did to you.

And you knew that you could rest assured that you would be okay no matter what.

"Do you want to play games...or cuddle?" Felix asked, pulling you up, already reaching for the blanket you kept draped over your desk chair; knowing your answer would be exactly what he was hoping it would be.

"Cuddles." You said clinging to him. Intending to do that for the rest of the night.

And Felix intended to make sure you kept true to that promise.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

SEUNGMIN|

The crowd was static with a murmured excitement. The result of hundred of Stays conversing just before the group walked on stage.

You made your way to the front of the arena. After selling the ticket you had intended to use to get back at Seungmin; you had made quite a bit of money from the upsale and the desire of some crazed stan.

And you put that money towards flying across the world, to come to this concert, and surprise him.

Hopefully easing the growing rumors but mostly easing his heart.

You called the Kids manager, asking to get you in closer to the front, and was praying that Seungmin would be able to spot you. Or a fan would spot you and it would spark the little "Where's Waldo" game that would get back to him - or more importantly the camera men.

You just wanted Seungmin to be assured you weren't leaving him.

Rather you hoped after tonight it would be the complete opposite.

As security pushed their way through the crowd with you encircled in them people tried to peak through to see you.

When a few curious eyes met yours you waved, and those eyes widened in the ones who recognized you.

It was almost like they were relieved.

And just with that you could tell how much the fandom cared about the boy.

Almost as much as you cared about them while knowing all of them on a personal friend level. And an even more intimate level with Seungmin.

The crowd buzzed with energy up until the moments to boys ran out on stage. You were close enough to see just how tired Seungmin was; but he still put on a smile.

There was almost know build up as they immediately started performing, Seungmin on the complete opposite side of the stage. The crowd was extremely loud- so yelling out to the closet member to you - Hyunjin - wasn't going to do you any good, even if he could easily recognize the voice of one of his closest friends' significant others; he wouldn't be able to hear it over the sea of others voices and screams.

So you decided to head back towards the dressing room.

Seungmin returned to his dressing room after the show, his heart racing with excitement after the show. But he still had that underlying hurt.

Should I call her? I miss her so much I'm imagining her perfume...

He stopped and turned his nose upwards. Y/N?

He rushed into his dressing room and saw you standing up, folding one of his shirts.

He immediately ran into your arms, burying his head into your hair, a wet spot forming on the crown of your head.

"Baby...are you really here?" He whispered, the vibration of his voice tickling you slightly.

You nod and pull back; feeling a bit proud to straight out apologize so instead get to what you came here for.

He looked at you as you squared your shoulders and adjusted your dress so it covered you properly as you knelt down onto the ground.

"Jagiya...?" He said instinctively kneeling down with you reaching for you, but instead you motioned for him to stay standing.

He looked at you with confusion, a bead of sweat dripping down his neck to his exposed collar bone, making you even more nervous than you were a second ago.

You pulled a small box out of the pocket in your dress and noticed Seungmin's puppy eyes widening as you held it out to him with a shaky hand.

"Marry me, MinMin?"

His jaw twitched and he just stared at you in shock and you fumbled to open up the box, a simple deep gray colored band laying in there.

"Um...I mean will you marry me? Please...?" You rubbed your forehead feeling your face get warm at Seungmin's extended silence.

"No." You felt your heart nearly crumple in embarrassment until he corrected himself.

"I mean yes- like no as is in you - like - yes I want to marry you but- just get up from the floor Jagiya..."

You stood up and you held the box in your hands, and they were still trembling, and he wrapped his large hands around yours.

"I meant no as a reaction to you proposing instead of me. I wanted propose to you. I mean...I'm the man in the relationship and-"

"I'm breaking societal norms, Minnie. If we both love each other why does it matter?" You ask bluntly, earning a laugh from Seungmin.

"And I'm proud of you for that, even if it'll earn me relentless teasing from the guys." He laughed out, a few tears falling from his face in happiness, as he rested his forehead onto yours.

"These past few weeks," Seungmin started, "Have made me realize that it's me who is clingy to you." He says, kissing your nose, lightly. "I felt that I lost myself when the prospect of losing you was in front of me."

You looked at him and knew this was his apology.

"I don't want to leave you. And I don't ever want you to leave me. That's why I got this for you." You said taking the ring out. Seungmin pulled back and stepped into character, placing a hand over his mouth in mock shock and daintily putting his hand out for you to slide the ring onto his finger.

He couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face as he watched your face be completely painted in a blinding happiness. He couldn't help but kiss the lips that were stretched so wide.

"Do I have permission to break the news to Stay via instagram post?" He hums. "They've been suspecting we broke up due to your concert absences..." He looked at you, his eyes wide and bright.

"Yes of course, as long as you tell the guys in person. I want to see their reaction. I'm sure both Stay and the guys will be amused that I proposed." You winked.

"Yeah," Seungmin chuckled as he looked at the ring with a deep admiration and love. "They will be...speaking of this though. You must have paid an unecessary fortune for flying here, buying the ticket, hotel stay...and you request off work during concert season so you aren't getting paid. Where did you get the money? If it was from your saving let me fill it up again." His top lip curled in as he waited for your answer.

"Uh...you could say I made a profit of sorts..." You mumbled, thinking about the slightly illegal act of scalping the ticket price.

Your fiancé tilted his head to the side, waiting for an explanation, but the deciding to forgo it with a chuckle and just kiss the woman he loved and missed so much. The one he'd spend the rest of his life clinging to.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JEONGIN|

You stood there the needle in your hand as Jeongin slowly walked towards you.

"Y/N? What are you...?"

You disposed the needle and adjusted your shorts to cover up your thigh.

"I was taking insulin." You said walking past him out of the bathroom, to go grab a paper towel since the towel in your bathroom was in the wash.

You felt the presence of your boyfriend behind you.

And you could instantly tell he felt bad, so you turned to him, his dark eyes wandering over you as his lips turned into his recognizable pout.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Innie..." You said standing there. "It wasn't right for me to ignore your calls. Or blow up your phone in the first pla-"

"Stop." His voice was firm and missing the playful undertone it almost always had. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me."

He swallowed. "I was embarrassed because of the guys and their teasing. And I called you childish when it was really me who was being childish for caring so much about people recognizing how much we love each other. How much you love me..." He's within arms length and you can feel his cool breath hit your face. "How much I love you. I'm sorry."

For the rest of the day you and Jeongin lounged around your house, him taking a nap on you lap at one point due to the pent-up exhaustion of the previous week.

You had shake him awake gently when you realized it was time for you to inject youself once more since you had finished eating a while ago but pushed off medicating yourself so Jeongin could get some rest.

He opened his eyes and whined as he shut them again, burrowing further into you.

"Baby, I have to get up and take my medicine."

He immediately shot up and the expectant yet worried look on his faced caused you to grin.

"Do you wanna help?" His head bobbed up and down as you got up, pulling the mischievous eyed boy with you towards the bathroom.

As you got everything, he observed with a bubbling anxiety.

"You won't like...die from this or anything right?" His voice was soft, lacking the confidence it usually carried.

"No, Jeongin, I won't die from my diabetes." You laugh. "Do you think I would let it take me before I get married and have kids, and grandkids and live." You say this purposefully to hint to Jeongin that it was him you imagined this with. Hoping it solidified his assurance in your forgiveness; since he had been asking all day if he was truly forgiven.

As if its his fault I have diabetes... You laughed to yourself.

You placed the glucometer in his hand and held out the container of strips.

"Just place that in there." You instruct softly, and he does so showing it to you to double check.

"Okay, so now we have to put the lancet in...here..." You say, your boyfriend focusing on placing it in correctly.

He takes your hand in his and when he presses the button to prick you he winces rather than you.

"Are you okay?!" He frets, looking at the extremely miniscule - too miniscule - drop of blood on your ring finger.

"Mm. Squeeze a little more out?"

He gently squuezed enough blood out of your hand and tested you blood sugar - then measuring out the appropriate amount of insulin and pulling your shorts up slightly to give you your injection with gentle hands after cleaning the area.

You watched him focus on the task at hand so seriously; his brows furrowed, and tongue sticking out of his lip slightly. He was so close you could smell his shampoos and count his eyelashes if you wanted to. You felt a strange longing for him even though he was right here. You missed him even if his body was right here next to, gently making sure he didn't leave any marks.

And you couldn't deny how much you loved him. So much that you had to express it.

"I love you forever, Innie..." Through his lashes he studied your expression. Feeling the love exude from you.

"I love you, forever and even longer." He said, his face breaking out into a smile. "My beautiful princess."

You laugh and that causes Innie to laugh as well.

"You're too sweet, love." You said placing a kiss under his eye.

"Does that mean I need to get you another dose of insulin?" He asked, looking up at you with a devilish grin.

This time you place the kiss on his lips his eyelashes fluttering shut as he sighed with contenment.

"I think I can manage."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@sleeping143 @artist2181 @abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jaythegay26 @gay-littlemushroomlover @armystay89 @sara6767776 @wildtokay

@kyrennetwork @stay-tiny-things

@piscesrising01 @0325tiny @hannamoon143

@chimchxmni @ka0ila @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

[bridenore]

HD Draco is a bit unhinged fic recs

Here are a few recs where Draco is a bit unhinged. Listed in alphabetical order.

(Fucking) Harry Fucking Potter by @bixgirl1 [6k]

It had to have been a dream, didn’t it? …Fuck.

Always the Last to Know by @nv-md [10k]

“I’m not napping,” Harry mumbled, his face still pressed to the floor. “I’m thinking.” “Salazar help us,” Draco muttered, walking around Harry’s prone body. Out of the corner of his eye, a bit blurrily, Harry watched as Draco lay beside him. “And what, pray tell, is so difficult to ponder that it requires a lie down?” Harry took a deep breath, very much considered lying, closed his eyes, and said, “Love.”

Bite Me, Hate Memes by pir8fancier [44k]

Draco Malfoy is incensed to realize that someone is trying to usurp his position as the premier Harry Potter hater.

Contretemps by @moonflower-rose​ [8k]

Draco Malfoy has been living like a model citizen. If only he could convince Potter.

Special Magic by lauren3210 [7k]

Harry was seriously considering the fact that his partner might be completely insane.

Storm in a Teacup by @faith2wood [7k]

For reasons he’d rather not think about, Draco is obsessed with Potter’s hair. This cannot end well.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by @faith2wood [21k]

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that’s ever so cross.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[adragonprinceswhore]

Romancer

Aemond Targaryen x Wife

Summary: During King Aegon II tumultuous coronation, Aemond’s wife becomes the first casualty of the Targaryen civil war. The young prince’s grief drives him to Flea Bottom, where he meets a mysterious Qartheen necromancer, who promises to bring his love back. But as with any sorcery, there is a price to pay; with each of Aemond’s touches, she slowly rots away.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, death, violence, sorcery, necromancy, angst, longing, smut

A/N: Happy Halloween! 🖤

Word count: 4200

‘Twas but a fleeting instance. 

A dragon, the Red Queen, and her traitorous rider burst through the floors of King Aegon II’s coronation. 

Chaos followed. Shrill voices begging for mercy, children weeping, sobbed ramblings closer to nonsense than prayers.  

Prince Aemond, whose seeing eye had been fixed on his wife before the tumultuous entrance of Rhaenys Targaryen, steps to the side to protect his sister from Meleys’ wrath. 

When their cowardice wins, and the dragon and her rider leaves, his seeing eye falls back to where he had last seen his beloved. 

Only now, he cannot find her. 

As members of the King’s guard swarm around the royal family to protect them, a futile gesture far overdue, Aemond pushes between them to rush down the steps of the elevated platform made for the Targaryens to bask in the admiring gazes of their people. 

She couldn't have left, she was here just moments ago. 

His eye is frantic as it searches the soot-covered ruins around him. His silvery hair whips to the side as he desperately jerks his head from one side to another. Then, he catches sight of her hair. 

She lies on the ground, pushed down by large stones crushing her body. 

Aemond hauls them off with a strength bestowed upon him by his despair. A sob leaves his throat as he pulls her into his arms, gently stroking her hair, burying his face there and inhaling the dust decorating it. 

He holds her until the heat of her body leaves her. Until she’s cold as ice in his grip. Stiff and strange. 

Only once does he glance down at her, and to his horror, she’s changed. It’s not her anymore. 

The soft cheeks he used to trace his fingers down are now hollow. Her skin is discoloured, and her eyes lifeless. Almost white, like the soul has left them and in its wake, a mist settles over the grave that once was a loving gaze. 

Prince Aemond sits like that, with her lifeless, rigid body in his arms, for too long. 

He cannot tell how many hours have passed, but he knows that he has lost a day when the sun appears, and disappears. It feels like an eternity trapped in the blink of an eye. 

No one dares approach him. They know that the fiery prince will show no mercy to whoever chooses to disturb his mourning. 

So he’s left alone in his devastation, until he cannot bear it any longer. 

His fingers are blue from the cold air enveloping him in an embrace so chilling, it rattles his bones. 

His love has also turned impossibly cold in his hold. Colder than the freezing, blue burn of a dragon’s flame. 

When he can no longer withstand the chill, he finally stands. His legs almost give in and every inch of his body hurts. Still, he persists, never letting his love fall to the ground as he keeps a secure hold around her. 

She is heavier than anything he’s ever carried before. He knows her, and this is not her. How many times had he not lifted her onto their bed? Pulled her in his lap? This sack of flesh weighs far more than she ever did, and yet he cannot let go. So he persits, and carries her to their chambers, sacrificing his own aching limbs in the process. 

When he thinks he might pass out from the effort, he reaches their marital bed, and lays her on top of it. 

Tenderly, he places her arms on her stomach, brushes her hair from her face, and closes her eyes. 

She’s merely sleeping, nothing more. Nothing permanent, nothing everlasting. 

Soon, she’ll open her eyes, look up at him, and give him a smile that melts his heart. Until then, he carefully places a quilt over her, and lies down next to her to find sleep, as husband and wife, just like so many nights before. 

He finds slumber next to her, if only for a few hours. By the hour of the wolf, he’s once again awake, laying on his back, staring at the intricate carvings in the wooden canopy above him. In a moment of weakness, he reaches for her hand to hold, but when his touch is met by freezing cold fingers, he winches and quickly lets go, instead placing his hand on her stomach, covered by the quilt he’d placed over her. 

His mind is too restless to let him find slumber. One hundred ideas, possible scenarios, flash in his mind. Thoughts of how to fix this; how to undo this, won’t let him rest. 

The Seven say that death is final, but is that truly the case? Surely, in Old Valyria, where dragons roamed free and the practitioners of the dark arts ruled, warlocks would not be content with leaving death to the Gods? 

Another day passes by as Aemond is deeply submerged in his own contemplation. 

This cannot be the end of her; of their life together. His dear wife. His one true ally. The sweet mother of their future heirs. She is not gone. She cannot be.

By next daybreak, an idea from his latent mind floats into his consciousness, and causes the troubled prince to finally see clearly. 

Necromancy. The art of bringing back the dead. 

Fuelled by the fire of determination set ablaze within his chest, Aemond reluctantly leaves his lover's side, throws on a cloak, and orders a member of the King’s Guard to guard the door to his chambers with his life. 

Before he leaves, Aemond throws one last glance at his wife’s lifeless form, and kneels by their bed, pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek. ‘Tis cold and stiff, as he should have expected. Still, his heart breaks when his lips are not met by the warmth he so wishes would still flow within her.

“I will bring you a cure”, he promises next to her ear, and ventures out into the dark, bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Flea Bottom is as he remembers. 

Filthy and depraved. 

The mere smell of the streets corrodes the insides of his nostrils, air so thick with stench from pigsties and tanneries the prince buries his nose inside his hood and breathes through his mouth. 

Around each corner of the dilapidated buildings lurks another distraction; whores beckoning him into their lairs, conmen trying to trick him into buying false treasures. 

‘Tis not a place for the educated. Nor is it for the devoted. Flea Bottom is reserved for the lowest of men; the ones who revel in debauchery and make a living of their falsehood. 

With the help of a few silver stags, Aemond manages to navigate the dirt-filled cobblestones of King’s Landing’s foulest corner. By the hour of the eel, he’s directed towards a short, stocky man with small eyes obscured by thick, bushy eyebrows. 

At last, he has found what he’s looking for;

A foreign man familiar with the dark arts.

He smiles when the prince tells him of the task, cold yet amused, resembling a serpent, 

“There is always a price to pay, my prince. What are you willing to sacrifice?”

“Anything”

“What if the sacrifice is your own selfishness?”

Aemond does not need convincing. He has already made up his mind. Without her, warm and comforting and breathing in his arms, he is willing to offer the sorcerer anything. The strange man inspects him with beady eyes that shine in the fire dancing against the stoney walls,

“10 gold dragons. And I will restore your lady once more”

In the shadows of the night, Prince Aemond brings the warlock into his chambers. 

The mysterious man does not ask for much in order to perform his sorcery.

He orders a servant to bring him boiling water, sage, dirt from the courtyard, and a small vessel. 

The staff of the Red Keep work quickly, and when he has all he requires, he pulls out a short, thin dagger from the inside of his pocket, and hands it to his prince, 

“A drop of your blood, your grace”

Aemond complies, and slashes the tip of his ring finger with the small blade. The warlock catches his blood with the vessel and proceeds to the bed, cutting the skin of the prince’s wife as well, mixing her blood with his. He adds the soil of their land, smoke of burnt sage, and water to his concoction before working his fingers into her mouth to force it open, and pours the brew down her throat. 

Nothing happens. 

Quietly, he leaves her bed to wash his hands in the basin by the hearth. He does not seem displeased by the fact that his magic did not work, or frightened by the dragon prince observing him closely. 

Aemond inhales, ready to have the deceitful bastard executed, flames of anger dancing within his blood from the humiliating disappointment of trusting a common conman. 

But just as he’s about to unleash his fury, he hears it. 

A sigh, quiet as a whisper in the room, yet loud as thunder in the young prince’s ears, floats from their bed to where he stands. He whips his head so quickly to the side his neck hurts, and hurriedly walks towards where she lies, still with her eyes closed and in the same position he had left her in. 

He carefully brings his hand out, shaking like the leaves of a tree caught in a storm. His eyes cannot see her clearly, unshed tears becoming a veil of relief over his eye. His hand gently grabs hers, and despite her still cold skin, he feels it, the drum of her heart, dancing in her chest and sending waves of thuds through her body. He leans in closer, wanting to whisper a greeting against her soft skin, yet is disturbed by the presence behind him he had nearly forgotten,

“We have not yet discussed the price, your grace”

Aemond leans back and turns to face the sorcerer. He wears the same wicked smirk as before, as if the prince’s despair amuses him. 

Disgusting creature.

“You have your gold. You are dismissed”

“Oh, but that is not the price the Gods wish to see, my prince”, he says with a sickly sweet gleefulness that chills Aemond’s bones,

“Witchcraft angers the Gods. It mocks them. I told you your selfishness will be the price you pay, and They have agreed”

“What do you speak of? Spit it out”

His smirk widens, “Release her hand”

Aemond gently lets go of her, and watches as a bruise blossoms forth from underneath the delicate skin of her wrist. 

“With each touch, she moves closer to the Stranger once more. You may have her by your side, but you cannot indulge in her” 

Frozen in place, the prince does not answer. What will become of his life if he is not allowed to touch his beloved? Being beside her, yet so far away. 

The man forces Aemond out of his thoughts,

“Will you settle for that, my prince? Being tempted by her every day, until you draw your last breath?” 

“If that is the price the Gods wish to be paid” 

“Hm. And you are content with a life without heirs? Without a bedmate? Or will you look for that elsewhere? Have another bed your wife, claim the offspring as your own?” 

The question turns Aemond’s stomach. 

“Watch your tongue, warlock. Or I will take it” 

His icy voice does nothing but amuse the man further, whose lips draw even taunter as he feigns regret with a courteous nod,

“Forgive me, your grace. I did not mean offence. Surely, you must have considered all implications carefully to reach this conclusion”

In truth, he had not. But the thought of another touching what belongs to him, his most dear possession, is so repulsive to Aemond he swallows the bile pushing up his throat. 

No one else may ever touch her. 

By next morning light, she awakens.

Still in a delirious state, she asks her husband to come closer and embrace her, frightened by the visions she had seen in her resting state. 

The contentment Prince Aemond feels from once again speaking to her; seeing her draw breath, seeing colour reappear on her cheeks, is dulled the separation between them, and the realisation that this is how they will remain from now onwards. 

He tells her of it all; Rhaenys bursting through the boards, the necromancer and the price he paid to bring her back. 

A tear falls from her lashes when he tells her that they may never touch again, for she will once more decay if they do. 

With a forceful swallow, she pushes down her own sadness and nods, grateful that he loves her too much to live without her. 

And so, their new normality begins. 

They enjoy the same things they did before; taking their meals together, reading together, speaking of their duties together. 

He had told court that her life was saved thanks to a skilled maester visiting from Oldtown, aware of the dangers enlisting a man of the dark arts carries.  

Should the truth about her resurrection come to light, she might be sanctioned not only by the court, but by the Citadel as well, and thus forced back into the arms of the stranger. 

In their endurance, their days grow tense, each moment tainted by the unspoken heartbreak of separation. 

The most prominent change to their lives together is the longing squeezing the prince’s heart. 

Never before has he ached so much for something as he does for her touch. 

The pain inside his heart doubles when he catches her eyes observing him from across the table whenever they sit together. 

She looks so devastated by their separation, so overcome with yearning. 

He knows the feeling, ‘tis the same sorrow that reflects in his heart. And yet, there is nothing they can do. 

Aemond would rather spend an eternity with her, and never once more feel the warmth of her fingers on his flesh, than to watch her get pulled away by the stranger yet again. 

So he endures. 

An unforgiving storm whips the Red Keep with vexed, rainy lashes when he returns from Storm’s End. 

He is drenched, dripping from head to toe. His face looks haunted; as if he has met the eye of death himself. 

She sits by the hearth, embroidering a small, green dragon onto one of his tunics. Her needle clumsily pierces the tip of her finger as she sees her husband’s distressed state, 

“What is the matter, my love?” 

“Lucerys, he-, he’s dead” 

Aemond shakes from the cold of the rain soaking his clothes. With shaky fingers he peels off his leathers, until he is only in his underclothes, standing right before her by the fire to seek some warmth, 

“I did not mean to-, Vhagar-, she-”

The explanations die on his tongue. 

She meets his gaze, bewildered and pitiful, and nods in silent understanding, unsure of how to comfort him. Aemond sinks down to his knees, feeling the heat of the fire lick against his cold skin. ‘Tis little comfort; his bones still feel freezing. As does his heart, when he looks at her. So close, yet never close enough. 

Torture, that is what it is. A cruel jest from the Gods. 

“How can I ease your distress, my love?”, she asks, and he nearly whimpers at her sweet concern. If he cannot confess his suffering to her, then who? 

“I fear I am a selfish man, after all”, he says defeatedly, 

“Even now I miss you, when you sit before me. I crave your touch - to feel you near. To be inside you. I am not whole unless I am with you - part of you, my love”

The smile on her face is filled with sorrow, piteous eyes glimmering against the warm glow of the hearth. She shuffles in her seat, pulls her hand out, and opens it in an inviting gesture, 

“I can spare a few years in my elderly days if I may feel your touch for one more night, my love”

And who is he to deny his love? 

To dismiss her sweet pleas? 

He would never deny her anything. 

He moves forward, crawling towards where she sits like the depraved hound he is. When he reaches her, he pulls the skirts of her small clothes up to reveal the soft meat of her things, and lays his head there, only for a moment. 

A sigh escapes him, so content to feel her softness against his cheek once more. ‘Tis like finding salvation after a life in sin; an otherworldly experience. 

He nuzzles into her skin, and she brings one hand to the side of his face, gently tracing his cheekbone and threading the silk of his hair between her fingers. After a moment of still devotion, he pushes the fabric further up to kiss her cunny, the only drink his parched lips crave. 

A startled gasp echoes above him, and the hand she carefully stroked his hair with turns into a painful grip. He adores the sting against his scalp. Hurriedly, he steals a peak from her, wasting no time to finally feel whole again. 

Kissing his way up her panting body, he finally tastes the reward he had coveted so. Her lips are even sweeter than he remembered them; soft, warm and most comforting. 

He stands and pulls her up to do the same, leading her to their bed with quick, long strides. He removes her small clothes as if he despises them, tearing the fabric and grunting at the layers separating him from the light of his life. When she is finally bare before him, he strips himself and joins her on their bed, finding his home between her thighs. She is so slick he slides in as if he were the missing piece of her incomplete body, and they both cry out at the all-consuming bliss of finally being together, being one, once more. 

His arms snake underneath her back, pulling her so close to him each inch of her skin touches his. Their lips stay locked together, moans and pleasurable sighs bouncing between their mouths. 

He cannot tell if the wetness on her cheek is proof of her own relief, or his. 

Nevertheless, he kisses it away, closes his eyes, and disappears into the bliss of having her again. 

They stay intertwined through the night, and by first light, Aemond reluctantly lets go of his love. 

The light that illuminates their chambers is scarce in the early hours of the morning, yet he can see the discolouration travelling up the limbs of his wife; painting her legs and arms in odd, painful colours. 

Their indulgence had cost her greatly. 

Regret stabs his heart; potent and aching. 

What have I done? 

‘Tis as if the small dagger the warlock carried were lodged inside his chest, reminding him of the devious man he had become. 

A kinslayer. 

His bloodthirsty quest for selfish pursuits; justice, comfort, love, is naught but foolishness. 

And now those around him pay the price. 

Aemond makes sure to keep distance from her, and he suffers immensely from it. 

On the night he came back from Storm’s End, he had found peaceful slumber in the arms of his beloved. Each night since, he is tormented by nightmares; visions of his worst fears playing in his mind. 

Cold skin, blood, bruises.

He fears Rhaenyra’s wrath. The retribution he will have to atone for Lucerys’ life. 

Will he be the one to pay it this time? 

Or will the burden of his crimes once more fall on the shoulders of his loved ones? 

Aemond does not need to wait long for retaliation.  

Rhaenyra’s revenge go by the names of Blood and Cheese, a ratcatcher and a disgraced butcher. The pair snook into the chambers of his young nephew, heir to the Iron Throne Jaehaerys, and slew the boy in front of Aemond’s sweet sister, Helaena. 

His hands are no longer merely tainted by the crimson of Lucerys’ blood. His pursuit for vengeance cost him the life of his nephew, and his sister, so lost in grief she can no longer leave her chambers. He only visits her once, horrified by the ghost of a person the queen has become. 

‘Tis my fault.

And it echoes in the prince’s mind anywhere he goes. 

When he trains with Ser Criston. When he flies on Vhagar. When he breaks his fast with his wife.

‘Tis my fault. 

When his mother can’t meet his eye. When his brother sinks deeper into his cups. When his grandfather no longer confides in him.

‘Tis my fault. 

The only light remaining is his dear lady wife. 

She still regards him with love. 

Her eyes still sparkle as he enters their chambers after a long day. Her mouth still forms a smile whenever he greets her.

“Her sweetness is wicked”, Prince Aemond thinks, “So inviting, beckoning me in, yet I must remain at a distance”

They still sleep next to one another, separated by an arm’s length. A small distance that feels infinite as he longingly steals glances of her sleeping form. 

A siren calling to him, taunting him with her soft, warm flesh. 

He knows that a night with her in his arms would ease his distress; allow him to find slumber and wake up as a better man. 

I would be a better man, for her. 

And that is the last thing he thinks before he shuffles closer, gently pulls her into his arms, and buries his nose in her hair. 

If he were a better man, he would have stopped after one night. But by now, Aemond knows that he is not. 

He is a self-serving, weak craven. 

The first night of having her in his arms while she slept did not soothe the longing aching in his chest as he thought it would. It doubled it. And by next nightfall, he waited for her to drift to sleep before greedily pulling her into his arms once more. 

He sees the toll his nightly indulgence has on her body rapidly. The bruises that had decorated her limbs grow darker, like those of an apple decaying. They now travel from her hands and feet, up her arms and legs, and bloom out over her stomach, chest, and neck. 

Aemond finds himself looking at her less and less. 

‘Tis my fault. 

“Mayhaps we need to seek out the sorcerer again for council?”, she questions one day as she carefully observes the bruises colouring her body. She presses on one and winces, lips pulled down into a displeased frown. 

She is withering. Rotting away. 

“I will”, Aemond says, and the lie is so bitter on his tongue, he wonders if his foul ways have caused poison to grow from within him. 

He had stolen Lucerys’ life above Storm’s End. A quick affair, an instance that he regretted as soon as he saw Vhagar’s jaw close around the small dragon. He did not mean to do it; to take his life. He only meant to seek justice for his eye; for the pain his nephew had caused him. For disfiguring him. 

‘Tis what he has become known for; kinslaying. The merciless murder of the young boy who wronged him. If the court only knew of how vile he truly is.

With each night that passes, he steals another flicker of the flame keeping the light of his life alive. He sees her grow paler, the bruises now covering nearly every inch of her being, slowly working their way towards her heart, drumming weaker and weaker in her chest. 

And yet, he cannot stop. He needs solace; the only good thing in his life. Holding her near, feeling the heat of her melt the icy bolts of remorse and guilt shooting within him. 

Tonight, he knows it is their last time. She can hardly open her eyes anymore. Her lips are purple, skin a sick melody of various shades, and her heart beats slowly, as if it is fighting with each thud. 

Just like the nights before, he lies down next to her, pulls her into his arms, inhales her scent, and closes his eyes. 

“This time, she perishes by my hand”, he thinks, “She gave me everything, and yet I took more”

But what is love, if not to take? 

Take and take and take, until there is nothing left. 

No one savours love. 

No one would ever feel satisfied with only a taste. 

It is meant to be devoured. And that’s what Prince Aemond tells himself, as his love finally draws her last breath in his arms. 

“Forgive me”, his whisper begs, 

“I have devoured you. I have let my selfishness slaughter you. Now I await my own demise, one that will come to me soon”

His fingers gently dance over her cheek, 

“I welcome it. I welcome a chance to meet you once more”

He holds her closer, feeling the warmth of her body leave for the second time in their lives,

“Until then, sleep well, my love, and I will return to you soon”

A/N; I hope you enjoyed this little Halloween fic of mine! I tried to go with a bit more classic, haunting and tragic theme, and it was so fun to write.

If you enjoyed this, please check out my fic Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back. It has very similar vibes and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Kisses!

[syluss-slut]

•°•°•Safe Embrace°•°•

Summary: your uterus pulls a fuck you by starting your period early even if you just had one two weeks ago, but your 6'2 boyfie is here to cuddle the pain away.

Pairings: Sylus×Reader ⚡

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, mention of period pain.

A/n: yearning is at an all-time high rn. LIKEYOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I NEED THIS MAN SO BAD HNSGBFBSHDNBHSN

You walked towards sylus's room in heavy steps. You were even surprised your body could hold on for that long.

Your period took you by surprise, coming back again after not even two weeks. Beauty of womanhood, isn't it? You spoiled your favourite pajama pants because of that and on top of all this, it was a heavy flow. In the middle of a productive week. Could it get any worse?

You knocked on his bedroom door, sylus taking not even a second knock to open it for you. As soon as the door opened, you managed to take one step in and collapsed right after. (Un)surprisingly, you didn't hit the floor, but rather found yourself in sylus' safe embrace, as he caught you just in time.

As he brought you to the bed, you silently start weeping in his chest. Tears run down your face due to the pain you were in.

Alarmed, "what's wrong, kitten?" Sylus enquires, a soft look in his eyes, concern in his voice.

Somehow, it made you cry even more. Your period hormones were driving you crazy.

He sits down on the bed, with you in his arms and now on his lap. One of his hand is on your back, soothing you and the other holds up your chin.

"Talk to me. What is it, sweetie?" He asks, a gentle tone in his voice that you've rarely ever heard him use with anybody other than you.

"Menses" you replied, in a feeble voice through tears.

"You poor thing" sylus thinks to himself.

"Let me get you some painkillers" he says, laying you down. You grab the sleeve of his gray sweater just as he walked out of your reach, making him turn around.

"Stay with me. Please" you croaked.

Wordlessly, sylus slips under the sheets beside you, engulfing you in a hug, making you the smaller spoon.

His large hand is in your hair, massaging slowly, lulling you into sleep.

"Thank you" your voice comes out muffled as you snuggled further into his chest.

With the feeling of being in a safe embrace and under warm sheets, you finally dose off to sleep, the last thing you remember being sylus' lips as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead.

•°•°•°(⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)•°•°•°•

When your eyes open, you don't know how much time has passed, but the first thing you acknowledge is the sheets beside you being empty; however they were still warm.

Sylus must have gotten up not so long ago.

Almost as if summoned by your thoughts, you turn to the doorway upon hearing something, and see sylus holding a tray of food.

Your heart melts at his sweet gesture.

"Here. Eat it all and don't forget your meds" he says, placing the tray on your lap.

You decide this isn't enough, "I'm weak all over, feed them to me?" You request, looking at sylus' face to read his expression.

You hear him chuckle, followed by a nod. He picks up the spoon and does as you asked.

The outcome? A few drops of soup spilled on your lap and some of it around your mouth. You smiled at how much effort he was putting into this, which turned into a giggle, which escalated into full-on laughter.

You notice the corner of his lips turn up ever so slightly, and you don't let it slip.

Never in a hundred years did sylus ever see himself taking care of someone, let alone make them feel so safe as to be vulnerable around him. Truly, you changed his life, for the better.

You wiped your mouth clean and didnt forget the painkillers, obviously.

"Rest. I called you in sick for tomorrow" Fuck. You felt like crying again. How can this man perceive himself as 'evil' or whatever the society labels him as? He's just a sensitive soul forced to harden up.

"You know my heart never truly rests without you beside me" you confess, Patting the space beside you, lifting the comforter for him to slip into.

You lay down, and so does he. The soft moonlight in the now dim room fell on his flawless face, it somehow made him look even prettier.

Silver light on his silver hair. You couldn't possibly resist the urge to pet his fluffy hair and so you did.

"Hmm. Keep doing that" Sylus purrs.

You hug him closer, and he rests his chin on the top of your head. Both of you drifting off to sleep once again.

Who would've thought, the feared leader of onichynus, who could have no trouble putting a bullet through one's head, be so vulnerable in his woman's arm?

[sonarspace]

deception, nanami

content: mdni. angst. soft sex. breeding kink (? kinda) wc: 1.1k a/n: trying to get out of my writing slump but it’s bad! so here’s this…

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

nanami’s laying in your arms when he gets a call from ijichi telling him he needs to be at shibuya in an hour. and instantly you’re being filled with dread. ��don’t leave,” you tell him as soon as he hangs up the phone.

but he’s already buttoning up his shirt. you huff a frustrated breath and follow him to the bathroom where he fixes his blonde locks.

“don’t go, please” you try again your voice breaking. his eyes meet yours through the mirror. your lips wobble as a tear escapes the corner of your eye. he turns around his eyes creased in worry. “darling, what’s wrong?” his voice’s sweet and soft dripping honey with every word he speaks.

“i’m scared,” you voice your worries into his chest – wetting his blue shirt with your salty tears. he tilts your face to meet his eyes. you’re quietly sobbing now – eyes red and nose turning a shade darker.

“don’t leave me,” your melancholic voice tugs at his heart. he can’t leave them when they need him the most. “i have to, it’s urgent.” he just says in return. it was hurting him to see you like this. be away from you in this state.

“no, ken, please” you drag out the word. his lips match your downturned lips. he hated not doing what you asked of him but this was different. he had people relying on him – the higher ups, his colleagues, the students, the first years…

he drops his head to yours in defeat. his fingers brush away the tears streaking your cheeks. “take me with you,” you request. “you’re pregnant,” he retorts. “so what, i can protect us,” you argue back. your technique similar to gojo’s, allows you to create an invisible barrier. the only difference was, you could include other people.

“i’m not even sure what’s happening there but i don’t wanna risk your safety.” he says placing his hand on your bump. he feels a light kick against his hand and smiles. “it’ll make you use too much cursed energy, there are too many people there,” he adds. “ken,” you’re about to say but you feel another kick – harder this time. as if telling you to listen to him.

he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. a part of him hurts as he lies “i’ll come back”.

“i love you kid,” he whispers as he places a kiss against your stomach. “i love you,” he tells you. holding your face firmly and placing a kiss against your lips — once, twice, and finally a third time. “i’m going to marry you when i get back,” he murmurs against your lips eliciting a teary laugh from your lips.

“promise,” you ask. “promise”. he vows.

but he doesn’t come back that night. or the night after. and you know it was normal for him to take a day or two for missions but the lack of texts and calls has you crying into his pillow. a text chimes from other side of the room. you get up and move quickly — shoko’s name on your screen. you feel like your heart going to jump out of your throat. this can’t be good.

shoko: i’m so sorry.

and you don’t need to read more cause your worst fear has come true. the phone slips out of your hand and hits the floor with a loud clack. you follow as your knees buckle and a weeping “no” erupts your throat.

you gasp for air through your cries. a set of arms pulls you into a hug. “i’m here, i’m here,” he whispers into your hair. “baby, i’m here.” he says again – louder this time. you calm down slightly pulling away from the embrace to see the face of the man you love so dearly.

“kento,” your voice cracks. a hand reaching up to touch his face. was he real? you feel his freshly trimmed hair prick your fingertips as your trace his face freely. his pink lips that kiss you and mark you like a canvas, his slender nose that nudges against yours playfully, & his brown eyes that never failed to take your breath away. “kento,” you say once again.

“yes, baby.” his eyes twinkle with love for you. “are you real,” you ask hazy from sleep. “i’m real,” he lets out a lighthearted chuckle. “you had another nightmare,” he cups your face and wipes away dried tears from your cheeks.

“i’m here. i’m okay. you’re okay. we’re okay.” he confirms. you sigh against his hand. his cold ring presses against your cheek and you’re reminded you’re married — have been married for a year.

you lay your head on his chest and he rubs your back comfortingly. “i was pregnant in my dream and you weren’t there”. he huffs in return. “and that’s why it’s just a dream. i’d never leave you. much less when you’re pregnant.” you smile into his chest.

“i want a baby,” you say. his body rumbles under yours with joyous laughter. “yeah?” he asks with a grin – his thumb under your chin pulling your face up to face him. “yeah,” you kiss him.

he kisses you back. his hand moves down to your neck – rubbing over your quickening pulse. you pull back and let his oversized button up fall off your shoulders. the slightly opened windows lets in a gentle breeze and hugs your body. the night sky is filled with moving pink clouds.

the sound of salty waves from outside, along with nanami’s gasping moan fills your ears as you lower yourself onto him. “ahhh,” your plushy walls are snug around his cock, making it hard for him to form a coherent thought.

before you can move too much, he flips you over. as much as he loved seeing you on top of him, he loved having you underneath him even more. loved seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he thrusts into you. the way your lips parted in moans and whines of his name.

“ken,” you whimper. he drops his head into your neck. kissing and biting at your soft skin. lolling out his tongue to soothe a bite. you wrap your arms around him. your nails dig into his back as he picks up the pace. the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter at the way his cock pushes against that sweet spot in you – turning your brain to mush and leaving your sentences incomplete.

your legs shake around his waist as you cum with a loud cry of his name. “you sure you want me to fill you up” he asks as you calm down from your orgasm. “filthy girl,” he teases when you nod with his fingers occupying your mouth. a muffled yes is all he needs to dump ropes and ropes of his seed deep into you. he pulls out his fingers from your mouth and replaces it with his tongue.

“we’re gonna make a baby,” he groans happily into your mouth.

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

a/n: comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[abbysbug]

werewolf!ellie x vamp!abby x fem!reader

CW; pussy eating, fingering, blood drinking, blood kink, pain kink, piercing flesh, mentions of fighting, collars, overstimulation, cum eating, subish!ellie, name calling (mutt), slight pet play ig??

A/N; the puppy is literally ellie as a werewolf

discord

-

The most difficult times of the month were full moons and blood lusts. Naturally, they had to fall on the same date this month.

“So fuckin’ irritating,” Ellie growled. She was kneeling next to the bed, her hands behind her back and her pink collar wrapped snuggly around her neck. Each time she moved slightly, the bell on the collar rang and made her face heat up in embarrassment.

“Does the mutt ever shut up?” Abby mumbled. She was sat behind you, holding your back to her chest and licking long stripes up your neck causing you to shiver.

She was getting desperate, and that made you want to force her to wait even longer. But denying her meant denying yourself, and you didn’t like the idea of that.

“Don’t call me that!” Ellie snapped.

Abby muffled a laugh against your neck. Her favourite game is riling Ellie up, especially before she transforms. Whenever Ellie and Abby’s events fall on the same date, once Ellie transforms and Abby lets her bloodlust fully take control of her, they fight. It’s a good way for Ellie to get her energy out and for Abby to control herself because apparently, werewolf blood tastes like ‘trash’.

Your thumb swipes against Abby’s lips and her mouth falls open. You trace her fangs, and she hisses softly. Her fangs are always sensitive.

“Are you going to be able to control yourself tonight?” You questioned.

Abby has been alive for centuries and have experienced more blood lusts than years you have lived. She’s learnt to control herself, but sometimes you get nervous.

“Of course,” She whispered, “But if I can’t Ellie is here.”

The bell on Ellie’s collar rung at the mention on her name.

You looked at Ellie. She looked so adorable. Her thighs were covered in slick and there was a puddle of slick on the floor between her thighs. Her sex drive and arousal levels were heightened when it was a full moon, and you fought the urge to tease her for it.

You patted the empty spot between your thighs, “Hop up,”

Ellie eagerly climbed onto the bed. She positioned herself to be laying between thighs and looked up at you with awaiting eyes. Her hair had gotten thicker and eyes larger.

Now, you looked at Abby. Her eyes were locked on your neck.

“Be gentle.” You told her.

She was not gentle. You cried out in pain as she dug her fangs into your neck and her grip around your body tightened. Ellie was quick to react, her lips wrapped around her clit and two fingers pushed into your weeping hole. The pain slightly outweighed the pleasure.

Finally, Abby’s venom entered your blood system. Vampire venom is used for many things, one of them being for sex. The venom causes immense pleasure and forces your brain into a haze.

Abby groaned against you and blood drippled down your neck. Her fingernails dug into your sides, and you whimpered.

“Oh fuck, Ellie.” You moaned and buried your fingers in her hair, tugging her closer.

Everything was overwhelming. You never last long when Abby is drinking from you and Ellie is between your thighs.

Abby pulled her fangs from your neck and licked over the bite. Her saliva heals you faster. You thought she was done drinking, but she dug her fangs back into you.

Ellie’s fingers relentlessly pumped into you, and she bit your clit softly. Her piercing green eyes didn’t leave yours. It was fucking incredible how she fucked you. Your slick was dripping down her wrist and onto the bed, and her face was covered.

Your orgasm unexpectedly hit you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched. Pathetic moans and whimpers left your throat. You tried to push Ellie’s head away from you as you were already overstimulated, but she tightened her grip around you.

Again, Abby pulled her fangs out and licks over the bite. Her grip on you loosened, then tightened again. She was fighting herself.

“Ellie,” She mumbled.

Whatever Ellie had said, it was muffled.

“Ellie,” Abby snapped.

That caused Ellie to pull away from you. Her face and arm were drenched in your slick. 

You wanted to whine and cry about your approaching orgasm being ruined, but you know they couldn’t control it.

Ellie pulled you into a kiss and you moaned into her mouth at the taste of yourself. You both panted as you pulled away.

Abby stood from the bed and that’s when you noticed how close she was to losing control. Her eyes were red, and her face was covered in your blood. Her tongue darted out and licked some of the blood on her lips. She was waiting for Ellie.

You took Ellie’s collar off and gave her a quick kiss. Ellie grinned and stood from the bed, offering her slick-covered fingers to Abby, who denied them. She shrugged and shoved them in her mouth, licking herself clean.

In a blood lust, Abby is always closed off. She was just trying to control herself from going wild on you, so you never took it to heart.

They both left the room, Ellie looking back at you sadly. She preferred to be with you when she transformed. It comforted her.

The venom was still buzzing in your system and your post-orgasm made your brain feel hazy. A yawn left your throat, and you buried yourself under the comforter. It was probably a biohazard to sleep in a blood and cum covered bed, but you didn’t want to move.

You closed your eyes and sighed. They’ll be back once you wake up.

-

a/n; if ive used bloodlust in the wrong way...ummm mb

@mystellenia

[sforzesco]

I was about to celebrate the fact that Alexandre Dumas has a 16th century-set novel called "Ascanio" (!!) but turns out it's about Benvenuto Cellini's apprentice named Ascanio, not the cardinal :/ sad news but sounds like a fun read

OHHHHH I KNOW ABOUT THIS ONE, I've never read the novel, but I HAVE dived into the opera!! Cellini is one of those Intriguing figures in history that I enjoy reading about, and when I saw that he had an Ascanio attached to him, I was immediately like. hello!!!!

related to this, there was actually a work created about thee Cardinal Ascanio Maria Sforza, but ough. it hurts my heart to read about it.

Ascanio Maria Sforza: la parabola politica di un cardinale-principe del Rinascimento, Marco Pellegrini

Reproduced in Medin-Frati, Lamenti storici, III (pgs 43-49)

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝑨𝒔𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑨𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 (𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑫𝑶𝑽𝑬) MDNI 18+

In a world where curses rule and jujutsu sorcery is near dead, you caught the eye of Sukuna Ryomen. Everyone thought you would tame the beast, but boy were they wrong...

Warnings: rough, brutal, gore, blood, murder, curse sukuna, true form sukuna. Minors, blank and ageless blogs will be blocked.

Read the original here

His fingers dripped with the blood of the man who used to be your boss. Crimson droplets found their way down his hands, to his forearms, in pretty dark rivulets caressing the muscles that were straining under his skin.

Even in the darkness of the lightless office, the terror on the man's face was visible.

The same man who’d been chastising you for days now could only drop to his knees and beg for dear life.

“Please–please–I’ll never say a word to her again. Please I’ll leave, I won’t come back. I’ll—”

Sukuna cut him off with a swift kick to the head. There was a sickening crunch where his calf met the skull and the man’s already sorry figure slumped over on the floor.

“You’re right about that. You won’t be saying a single word to her ever again. And you won’t be coming back. I’ll make sure of that right here.” Sukuna reached out and lifted the man by his throat, crushing his windpipe like it was made of eggshell.

Blood squirted out, hitting Sukuna in the face, and dripped onto the floor – everywhere but he didn't flinch.

The Curse finished off the man in front of him by plunging a hand into his abdomen and ripping out organs, flesh, muscle — anything that dared to come in the rampage path of his fingers.

He let go, dropping the carcass into a heap on the floor.

The whole time Sukuna worked, you stared at him. He took care of the problem that had sent you home irritable and crying for the past month, made your anxiety spike several notches, and left you questioning your self-worth. You were incredibly aroused by him. Here, in the little office your boss kept reprimanding you in, he had finally got what he deserved, all thanks to the man in front of you.

Your legs moved on their own and you found yourself walking upto the man. A silent rage stormed just below the still facade he kept up for your sake. “He dared to hurt what is mine…” Sukuna’s voice rumbled like the low call of thunder.

“Ryo…” you called out softly.

A bloody hand shot out and grabbed you by the hair, pulling you into his tight embrace. “He dared hurt what is mine!” Sukuna roared.

Sukuna groped you from below, lifting you up to his face with ease. His fingers dug into the soft fat of your ass and he squeezed it territorially.

The fluorescent light of the street lamp outside lit a side of his face. Sukuna in his true form towered over you – a hulking figure that was as large as he was strong.

But the gentleness with which he kissed you was nothing like his visage. His free hands tangled in your hair, smearing blood all over you, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered right now but him.

Sukuna ripped your dress in half from the front, laying you bare in front of him. His mouth attacked the skin of your chest, sucking and nipping at your tits.

“You're – kiss – fucking – kiss – MINE!” His hands grabbed your breasts and he sucked and licked at your nipples. Below, the mouth on his stomach seemed to have woken, and his large tongue was pushing your panties aside and prodding at your weeping cunt.

The torn fabric fluttered about you when Sukuna lifted you onto your ex-boss’ desk. He cleared it with a sweep of his arms, the monitor and papers crashing into the floor in a messy heap.

Sukuna spat on your clit, and with two fingers rubbed against it hard. His two cocks were already at attention, and all he had to do was to part his robe to sink himself into you.

The pull was unbelievable. Your rim burnt struggling to take him. But Sukuna was merciless. He lowered his head with an animalistic growl and bit at your shoulder. You screamed in pain coupled with a confused pleasure. Something warm and thick trickled down your back, and you realised that Sukuna had broken skin. His tongue lapped at the blood dripping from you.

Sukuna’s second cock brushed against your clit with each thrust and you felt your pussy dripping with need.

No words were exchanged. Just a cry from you and Sukuna’s mouth found yours. He captured your lips in a heated kiss – all tongue and teeth.

His hands kneaded at your breasts, where a tongue encircled your nipple, working in tandem with his fingers to tease and tweak the soft fat.

“Ryo…” you tried again.

“Shh, let me take care of you.” He groaned into your mouth. “Such a good little pet. All for me. Gonna fill you up with my seed. Make you carry my heir.”

“Ryo please…” you begged. What for, you didn't know, but it pleased him.

He smiled and lifted you. Using your body like a toy, he slammed you onto his cock over and over. Your tits swung in his face and the sight made him feel his release was near. He slammed you back on the table and climbed on top on all fours, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he thrust into you with renewed vigour.

You heard a creak under you, and Sukuna lifted you into his arms, thrusting deep inside where his cock jerked, spilling his come in you. In between your two bodies, his second cock also squirted out a sticky white come that coated your tummies.

Despite being covered in his release and blood, and your clothes tattered, Sukuma lifted you in his arms and held you close.

“No man will ever hurt you again, my queen.”

He walked out, stepping on the remains of your ex-boss. The room was in shambles – table broken, papers scattered.

But you didn't need to bother. Your shitty boss wouldn't be telling you off for it after all...

AN: HI. THIS WAS SELF INDULGENT. BYE.

Big thanks to @ominouslywritinginmyhead for proofing and beta

[nyctoaerah]

⋆♱⋆DOLL SMITTEN

SYPNOSIS:: In which, Suguru Geto can’t bear to let you go and was unable to accept your death, so he made a doll version of you instead.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Dark themes, Disturbing things, Unhealthy Obsession, Gore, Suguru is a total creep. Suggestive Themes. Angst.

PAIRINGS: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

━━━━𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃

━━━━𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐎𝐍 assaulting suguru’s mind.

The memories of your body, laying before him like a macabre painting—your skin an eerie shade of pallid, with rivers of crimson flowing freely, pooling and congealing in the crevices of the floor, your left arm was severed and lying at an unnatural angle, the bones protruding like twisted branches.

“Suguru”

“Suguru.”

“Suguru!”

Suguru was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard satoru’s voice calling him.

“You’ve been spacing out again...” Satoru sighed, watching as the black haired male clutched the doll that you had given him tightly to his heaving chest.

“M’ alright... don’t worry ‘bout me...” Suguru muttered, staring at the doll.

He missed you so much.

So, so much.

He misses you so much to the point that he even started wearing the cringeworthy clothes that you had gifted him during your anniversary — a shirt that has your face on it.

It was so embarrassing but..

No matter the humiliation, he couldn’t bring himself to remove it.

The fabric was already damp with his tears, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

It just hurt so goddamn much. 

He didn’t even flinch as satoru gently placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. Satoru too looked down though , his face drawn in shared sorrow.

“Seriously... I’m worried about you, man.”

“You look like you’re about to have another breakdown...” Satoru mumbled hesitantly, fumbling for the right words.

“She wouldn’t want to see you broken...” Satoru said softly.

“She would’ve wanted you to live on.” Satoru added, hating the weak consolation but unable to think of anything better.

“and move on.”

 Suguru just scoffed bitterly, before forcing a smile.

“No.. She wouldn’t want that...” he said through clenched teeth, tracing the outline of the small doll, his finger lingering on the embroidered smile that you sewn so long ago.

“What do you mean?” Satoru asked gently, already dreading the answer. 

“I mean...” suguru trailed off shakily, shoulders sinking further as he smiled a smile that didn’t reach his  eyes.

 “She wouldn’t want me to move on...”

Suguru stared at Satoru intently.

“Satoru.”

Those bottomless onyx eyes bored into his own, searching, probing.

“Tell me something,” Suguru muttered, so low Satoru had to strain to hear it.

“Where did they take her body?”

The question caught Satoru off guard. His mind raced as he tried to understand Suguru’s motives. Was he paranoid they’d desecrate your urcorpse? Or was there something more sinister at play? He hesitated to answer.

“They took her to Shoko,” he said stiffly and hwsitantly.

“With Shoko, huh?” Suguru finally replied, his tone as sharp and bitter as a winter wind.

They sat in loaded silence, the air thick with tension.

Satoru searched Suguru’s face for any clue to his churning thoughts, but found only an impenetrable void. 

After what felt like an eternity, Suguru spoke again, his soft whisper slicing through the tension like a blade.

“Satoru..”

His silky black hair had grown shaggy and untamed during his days of isolation, falling over his pale face like a veil as his head sagged downwards.

Through the parted strands, Satoru could see the gaunt hollows of Suguru’s cheeks and the dark circles under his reddened eyes — evidence of sleepless nights spent weeping and longing for the woman he had lost. 

“Do something for me,” Suguru’s quiet voice cracked as he spoke, barely above a hoarse whisper.

With apprehension clawing at his insides, Satoru nodded slowly. “Yes...?”

Satoru braced himself, unsure of what request could suguru probably ask.

“Can you... Help me.. sew a lifelike doll in her image.. One with her face, her hair, her body...” Suguru continued, his hands trembling as they tightened around the doll.

“And get her body too... get to hug it before shoko.. do her thing.”

“I just want to hold her corpse, to feel like she’s still here with me.” 

“...Suguru, what the fuck?”

Suguru’s dark eyes burned into Satoru’s soul as he contemplated the request to retrieve your corpse. Satoru’s chest rose and fell rapidly with each panicked breath.

“Get her body? Turn her into a doll?” satoru rasped, disbelief thick in his tone.  

Satoru saw the desperation swimming in Suguru’s gaze and felt ashamed for entertaining such a twisted idea, even for a moment.

He swallowed hard.

He couldn’t just let that happen..

“Please, Satoru...”

Satoru winced upon hearing the small crack in suguru’s voice.

He really just can’t let that happen!!

But... He also wants suguru to be happy.

He drew a steadying breath, loathing the decision he felt compelled to make yet powerless to refuse his friend in such a state of despairing need. Slowly, hesitantly, he spoke.

“You do know that...she wasn’t killed with cursed energy, right?”

“[Name] can become a cursed spirit if we don’t get rid of her body. You know that she died with hatred.. for them.. right?”

The words struck Suguru like knives in his heart. Blood pounded in his ears, vision swimming, as realization dawned with dreadful, delicious clarity

It’s true.. you could become a cursed spirit... And.. and that’s a good thing.

That’s a good thing, right?

He doesn’t even need to worry because he has cursed spirit manipulation... And could tame you if that ever happens...

And then the two of you would live together again... You can be in his arms again.

“I’m sure...”

━━━━𝐖𝐄’𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

Nanako and Mimiko sat like statues, feeling awkward.

The moment that they saw the human flesh on the doll, they ended up zipping it back up and scramming away from suguru’s room — they made sure to lock it first, ofcourse, as they don’t want suguru to find out about their snooping around.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

Suguru questioned softly as he lifted his teacup to his lips and took a slow, measured sip, savoring the bitter warmth as it flowed down his throat. He then set the porcelain down back to its saucer with a faint clink and leaned back with a casual grace that bordered on obnoxious, his knees spread wide, elbows resting on his thighs, and head supported by his intertwined fingers.

“You two look like you’ve seen a ghost, is somethin’ wrong?”

Suguru noted, his tone gentle but probing. Propping his elbows upon his thighs, he cradled his face in long-fingered hands and tilted his head inquisitively.

Nanako shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, fingers twisting together anxiously in her lap, looking at Mimiko but the brown haired girl couldn’t bring herself to meet suguru’s gaze either — instead, she was staring fixedly at the pattern on the carpet.

“Master Geto... Uh.. well..” Nanako trailed off awkwardly before she decided that it’s better to keep silent than tell Suguru about the snooping that they’ve done.

“Well?”

Nanako grasped for her phone as a means to avoid further questions. She scrolled methodically through meaningless updates and messages, clinging to the false sense of occupation as an uncomfortable hush fell over the room. 

“Well? spill it. What’s got you both so spooked?” Suguru prodded, leaning in slightly.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really...” she said, attempting to sound nonchalant as she busied herself with her phone, avoiding his piercing gaze.

Suguru, sensing her unease, narrowed his eyes.

“Come now, don’t clam up on me now. I can tell something’s off,” he prodded gently, concern softening his features.

“It’s nothing, really. Just boy problems,” Nanako said, her words rushing out almost faster than she could catch them.

Suguru raised an eyebrow at her response before settling back in his chair, his mind already conjuring up overprotective scenarios.

By boy problem...

Did they mean—

“Don’t tell me that you two are sleeping around with some boys?” 

“NO!” Nanako replied and suguru sighed in relief.

“Just... Girl things..” Nanako muttered, as she looked away.

“Oh. I see…” he murmured, though the thought of his girls having boyfriends made him uncomfortable. Despite his protective instincts, he knew he couldn’t stand in the way of their happiness. It’s not like he can deprave them of that, he wants them to be happy after all.

Turning to Mimiko, Suguru inquired,

“And Mimiko?”

The brown-haired girl shifted nervously, her fingers anxiously twirling her doll's hair as she avoided his gaze.

“How was the meeting?” Mimiko asked, trying to change the topic.

“Good. How are you?” Suguru replied with a warm smile, trying to coax her out of her shell. Mimiko bit her tongue, not knowing what to say.

“Good too,” she finally managed to murmur.

Sensing their discomfort, Suguru could tell something was amiss.

“Why the long faces, girls? Don’t tell me you’re hiding something from me now now, hm?”

Nanako and Mimiko exchanged guilty glances, both trying to find the right words to explain their unease.

“It’s just that...we realized we missed you while you were out. That’s why...why we seem a bit...down,” Nanako stammered lamely, not knowing what to say.

“Y-yeah, what she said,” Mimiko chimed in, finishing her sister’s sentence with a sheepish grin.

“I doubt it,” Suguru chuckled, taking a slow sip of his tea as he observed the two girls sitting across from him.

Their uneasy glances and sudden topic changes couldn’t go unnoticed after all, and suguru knew whenever they were lying.

It was as if they were tiptoeing around some hidden truth, and Suguru found their behavior quite amusing, and suspicious.

Just as he was about to press further, Nanako’s voice broke the silence.

She locked eyes with Suguru, her demeanor shifting between nervousness and curiosity.

“Master Geto... Be honest,” Nanako started cautiously.

Suguru raised an eyebrow in response.

“Yes?” he prompted, his curiosity piqued by Nanako’s hesitant tone.

Nanako hesitated, trying to find the right balance between subtle inquiry and blatant prying. Finally, she decided on a more indirect approach, leaning in slightly as she carefully framed her question.

“Did you... uhh... used to have a girlfriend?” Nanako finally blurted out, her eyes searching Suguru’s face for any reaction.

Suguru’s smile didn't falter as he responded, his tone light yet firm.

“Why are you bringing this up again? I’ve told you before — no girlfriend now, no girlfriend before.”

Nanako couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling. If Suguru was telling the truth, then who was that girl in all those photos? And what was the deal with the eerily realistic life-sized doll she had seen in his room... Not to mention, the human flesh in them??

It’s not like they cared about the human flesh anyways, because suguru has done more fucked up things than that — he literally committed mass genocide and other heinous crimes!! This shouldn’t be so surprising.

But still...

It felt so strange...

“Flings?” Mimiko asked.

Suguru simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“None either,”

Suguru replied, his lips curling into a half-smile. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes betrayed a hint of confusion.

The two girls seemed interested in prying into his nonexistent love life, which, in his case, was quite literal... non-existent, since his everything, his betrothed, his soul, was already non-existent indeed. He had come to terms with it, of course, but he still doesn’t wanna let go.

“Girl friends? As in girl friends, I mean. A female friend,” Nanako clarified.

“Like a really close female friend,” Mimiko added.

“That’d be Ieiri,” Suguru replied, a fond smile playing on his lips as he mentioned her name. 

Mimiko and Nanako exchanged puzzled looks, seemingly trying to connect the dots. Was Ieiri the mysterious girl they had seen on the pictures then?

“Do you really wanna know?” Suguru’s voice was tinged with a mix of amusement and curiosity as he leaned back in his chair, intertwining his fingers and tilting his head to the side. His deep obsidian eyes gazing off into the distance.

“I used to have a fiancée,” Suguru dropped the bombshell casually, and Mimiko and Nanako’s eyes bulged in disbelief. Fiancée? This was news to them. Was she the mysterious woman in the photos, the one who seemed to inspire the lifelike doll of Suguru?

“A monkey killed her, if you can believe it,” Suguru stated with a hint of disgust.

“We were childhood sweethearts.” He sighed, a mixture of sorrow and bitterness evident in his expression.

“But she’s gone now,” Suguru continued, a hint of melancholy in his voice as he clenched his jaw ever so slightly.

Nanako and Mimiko were struck silent. So she was actually dead...?

Their frowns deepened as a twinge of guilt began to seep in.

Had the life-sized doll been Suguru’s way of coping all along? And to think they had once been repulsed by it... It was making them feel guilty.

The realization weighed heavily on them. They had no idea that Suguru had a fiancée, and now they felt genuinely remorseful. 

“She would’ve adored you both... especially since she was such a girl’s girl.”

“You know, I’d do just about anything for her,” Suguru said with a lovesick sigh, sinking down into the couch and gazing off into the distance with dreamy eyes.

“I would walk across hot coals barefoot if she asked... I’d kill for her..”

“I love everything about her... First of all, i love her eyes, second, her smile, third, her hair, fourth, her face, fifth, her personality, sixth, her confidence, seventh her wit, eight, her intelligence...

Suguru sighed blissfully as he began to ramble on.

Nanako and Mimiko exchanged a horrified glance as Suguru enthusiastically rambled on about all the strange quirks he adored in his late fiancée.

It was utterly bizarre to witness how utterly and completely captivated he seemed by a woman who was no longer among the living.

His enthusiasm for his deceased fiancée was bordering on the absurd — it was as if he was carrying on a love affair with a ghost...

“—Ninety-fourth, her kindness,” Suguru counted off on his fingers dreamily.

“Ninety-fifth, her passion for—” He paused, just now seeming to notice that mimiko and nanako was gawking at him.

“...Why are you looking at me like that...?”

“A man’s allowed to worship his queen.” He cleared his throat.

He was just getting warmed up, ready to pour his heart out about his undying love for [Name], when mimiko interrupted his soliloquy.

“Master Geto... how... how did she die?” mimiko asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Nanako shot her a disapproving look, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Suguru’s face suddenly fell.

“Don’t you think that’s an invasive question—” Nanako began, her words trailing off as she glanced nervously at Suguru, fearing his reaction.

Suguru was stagnant, scarily stagnant before he finally spoke after some moments 

“it’s fine...”

Suguru’s fingers twisted in his long, ebony hair as he stared into the distance, his expression distant and troubled. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he considered how to answer.

“Let’s just say it was brutal,”

“Through Evisceration and Mutilation.”

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐏𝐀𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍: Faster Updates and longer chapters here!

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: 𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠♡ 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞<𝟑

𝐀/𝐍: this one is unedited and not proof read and is a mix of the other chapters on doll smitten on wp:)

Also, this is out of topic but i’d really appreciate it if you all read this and this, and spread awareness of what's currently happening on my country:) because we're currently in danger and in near in declaring war against china.

[konigsblog]

has no one thought about Konig x Reader x Kurguer? i mean imagine getting kidnapped by TWO austrian hotties with masks?! like please put me in your basement and play with me silly!!!

anon, i have a lot of posts about könig & krueger being kidnappers that i think you'd love... (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

and god, thinking about the punishments kidnapper-krueger forces könig to do. :(

cw: punishments, non-con, yandere, kidnapping. female anatomy, afab!gn!reader.

dead dove: do not eat. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

kidnapper-krueger will force and convince könig to become inhumane and brutal with you. he'll convince könig that he's too gentle, that you're misbehaving because you think you can get away with it, scot-free. he wants to put something in that dumb, little head of yours, make you squeal and wail for forgiveness.

your wrists are held together forcefully and tied with rope in the basement, feeling uneasy and tense from all the bad and horrifying memories down in the chamber; the cold, metal bars you'd grip everyday in the hopes you'd be freed by some miracle, and the blood stains on the concrete, dirty floor, reminding you of your worst days.

könig sinks his dick further down your slicken mouth, watching you cry, sob and weep, choking on his painfully large cock. könig rolls his hips against your face, pushing deeper while you whine and squirm pathetically on your knees, eyes glistening with your tears. all while krueger forces your head further during back shots, your asshole stuffed with a plug, holding his thick load as he uses your sweet, sweet pussy... the clenching and pulsating and the way you squeal, könig's guilt and shame evident on his stupid face. :(

“don’t cry, my little lamb...-it’ll be over soon enough.” he cooes, coddling you for being so scared and teary-eyed, petrified of könig - the man you'd cling to. each thrust leaves you body aching and quivering, feeling frail and weak as they harm and inflict torture apon poor you, choking on his dick, with könig pinching your nose and restricting your breathing, helpless and shaken up.

krueger's lengthy, veiny dick rubs against your cervix as he releases and shoots his last load into you, slapping your face as you drool könig's cum, your pussy leaking and your asshole achingly full... hearing your breathing struggles, chest rising and falling before you're given access and allowed to catch your breath.

könig sneaks down into the basement to visit and coddle you, laying beside you on the cold ground while you scowl at him and scramble away, crying and hyperventilating as he holds you, hearing him apologise through tender kisses to your bruised skin.

könig can't understand why he ever listened to that bastard... now, he has to care and clean your wounds, wincing at the sight of the bruises he caused. ;(

[sturnslcver]

enemy! chris where he absolutely breaks down reader to where she has no motivation to do anything anymore and he notices n begins to feel bad

ੈ✩‧₊˚ expiated favours ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

— chris sturniolo x fem reader —

— warnings, fluff, blurb, crying

you shot chris a fond smile, proud of the meal you’d just prepared for him. you gently set it on the edge of his desk. he didn’t bother looking away from the screen occupying him as you cracked open a can of pepsi. “here” you muttered quietly, scooting it toward him. you lingered beside him for a split second hoping he might acknowledge or thank you. he didn’t. you gently shut the door on your way out to the living room.

almost immediately after you’d plopped down on the couch, chris had emerged from his room. “you didn’t put enough ice” he grumbled. “sorry” you shrugged. he slammed his glass against the counter. “so are you gonna get the ice?” you glanced at him and exhaled a long breath before lifting yourself back to your feet to fulfill his request. he took a long sip, smacking his lips together. “better” he replied, heading back towards his room. he paused before continuing. “oh, start my clothes in the washer too. i forgot.” you scooped up the laundry basket and followed behind him to his room, dragging all the clothes from the floor and tossing them up into the basket.

your feet shuffled across the hallway back to the laundry closet. you were separating the color’s and whites when nick surfaced from his room. you delicately grasped his arm, gazing up at him. “can you finish this for me? i need to lay down.” nick obliged, of course seeing the black circles under your eye. you clawed at your hair, eager to finally get into some comfy clothes and hopefully get some sleep.

you were settled on your side, in bed facing the wall. just as you were nodding off, your door loudly unlatched. “did you finish my clothes?” you didn’t retort, your back still facing him. “you used a different detergent this time. i don’t like it.” he held up his shirt, inhaling the latest scent. “are you even listening?” he questioned. you reached for the nearest pillow, placing it directly onto your head. “i asked nick to finish the load.” he squinted his eyes as if it might help the noise coming from the pillow sound any less muffled.

you shot up and turned to face chris. “you know i don’t have to do these things for you. i just do it because i want too. i like doing things for you and you don’t show any appreciation or gratitude towards anything i do for you.” you voice gradually softened as you felt a lump forming in your throat. you hid your face in your hands and began to weep. “i’m tired, chris. i’m trying my best and it’s never enough.” you felt the bed sink in a little, peeking through your fingers. chris had his knee eased into the edge of the bed right beside you. he brought his hands up, drawing yours away from your face. he placed his hands lightly against your cheeks and used his thumbs to gingerly rub away your tears. he surveyed your glassy eyes for a moment, placing one of his hands on the back of your head and pulling you against his chest faintly. he clutched you into a warm embrace.

hesitating momentarily, you brought your arms around his back, rubbing up and down repeatedly, reciprocating his affection. your fingers trickled along chris’ spine. his chin lazed on top of your head. “don’t cry. i’m sorry. i do appreciate you and everything you do for me and it’s my fault for not making it more known to you.”he placed both of his hands to the side of your head and planted a soft kiss to your forehead. “how about you let me finally appreciate you, hm? ” “how?” you chuckled eagerly.

chris raised your legs back onto the bed and signaled you to rest your back up against the headboard. he climbed up onto the bed and slid toward the bottom, placing your feet in his lap. he reverently placed a warm kiss to your ankle and began to massage your foot. “feels nice” you beam up at him. he hummed contently. the both of you exchanged a playful glance and laughed. “just tell me when to stop” chris cooed.

— a/n: i wasn’t sure how to go about the whole enemy thing because i couldn’t come up with a creative enemy backstory or a decent reason as to why they would be “enemies” also this is pretty short but i hope u still enjoy!! pls keep submitting things guys :)