#her tear stains i am unwell
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Hey, it’s the return of the not-so-ancient mariner.
#theocedit#ryissaedit#tvedit#ryan x marissa#ryissa#tvarchive#usercassidy#tusermichi#userlolo#userlix#addys-beth#tuserandrea#*#her tear stains i am unwell
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C7 and B16? The Agonies spa service combo
C7. bathing together
and
B16. massage
enough sexiness. Horrors and Agonies ahoy. and some sexiness. and the single saddest most Unwell entity to have ever existed. amen
@pratchettfan87 says that there are hot springs outside the castle and i say hell yeah there are
prompt list + fills here
The pressures of Lord Morpheus's position are harder on him now than they were before his imprisonment.
At first Lucienne hoped he just needed to readjust to managing his storm and his realm all at once, and that once he did the vacant exhaustion in his eyes would become less common. This has not been the case. Instead he seems to grow wearier, more distant when he drifts.
He talks to her, at least. He holds her hand in quiet stolen moments, loves her well in their shared chambers, comes to her when her own dreamscape runs dark. She wants to think she's helping. But though he becomes softer with her, more honest and forthcoming, his wounded existence drains him, leaves him spread thin and so, so tired.
She finds him in his throne room, staring up at the shifting stained glass windows. They seem cloudy today, the shapes indistinct and the light dim. His upturned face is bathed in the opaque gold cast from the jagged image of a star who had gone mad. He turns his head to look at her, and he blinks several times before he recognizes her. "Lucienne."
Today Lucienne is lonely, and she is stressed from the noise and the bustle of her rebuilt realm, and she is tense in mind and body, and she trusts him when she trusts nothing else. He frowns and his eyes flicker over her face, and he doesn't move, but his focus sharpens. "How can I help?"
"I've not been to the hot springs since you rebuilt them," she says.
Lord Morpheus stands there awkwardly still, and he looks away from her. "You deserve to rest, Lucienne," he says softly. "You certainly don't need my permission."
Instead of answering, she holds her hand out to him from across the expanse of the throne room. He stares at it, and he appears conflicted, and sad, and scared, and like he is as close to collapsing as he is to accepting any offer to bridge the gap between himself and someone who loves him. She waits for him to make his choice.
Finally he takes a step that echoes through his great hall, and then another, approaching her with all the caution of some once-bitten prey animal. She has bitten him before, to be fair. He stops in front of her and he stares down at her hand, impassive marble expression running with fault lines. His hand shakes when he raises it to hers.
Lucienne clasps that shaking hand in both her own and watches his jaw shift and his eyes brim with tears. His shoulders shake, too, his black cloak shivering with the motion. "I apologize," he whispers. "You do not want my company today."
She dips her head, tries to catch his gaze as it drifts from her. "You've decided that, have you?" she teases, her thumb tracing the sharp ridges of his knuckles. "I don't get a say?"
He flinches. "I didn't say that," too quickly, breath rapid, shivering intensifying, his eyes snap to hers. "I did not—you misunderstand—"
"Dream," she interrupts, startled, squeezing that ice-cold hand. "A joke, my lord."
He does not respond, he just stares, wide-eyed and terrified of her, of harming her or being harmed by her or something he is seeing that is not her at all. "My lord," Lucienne whispers. "My lord, come with me. Rest with me. I want you to. I am asking you to."
She watches as this calms him, steadies him, and he breathes, and the panic slowly drains from him, leaves him bowed and yielding. She holds his hand until he nods his head almost imperceptibly.
She closes her eyes, and when she opens them they are no longer in the throne room—they are in a cavernous grotto, its granite walls silvery pink and sparkling by the light of the sun gleaming through the open roof of the cave. Mosses and flowers and ferns bloom over the cliff face and cascade down to obscure the edges of a clear blue pool.
Lucienne and her lord stand at the bank of the pool, soft sand sloping down to the water's edge. Sweet-smelling steam rises in curls from the pool and the flowers that take root around it bow inward and sway languidly in its swirling eddies.
He leans into her now, the privacy or the heat or her patience cutting through his resistance. His forehead bumps hers, his hand cradled close to her chest, his shivers palpable in her own bones. There's an undercurrent of desperation in this soft moment, his eager acceptance of distraction, her need to set aside the past hundred years like they never happened. "May I take your clothes?"
Lucienne raises one hand to his face, pets his cheek, and he leans into it. "You may." Her garments melt away into silky sand and then into nothing. His free hand spreads across her lower back, holding her close to him. "Will you be able to undress?"
He thinks about it, and she kisses him to tell him it's alright, that he doesn't have to answer or know or make a decision if he can't. "Not right now," he manages eventually, when her lips have left his red and slick. "Later, perhaps." He swallows hard, breathes heavy between them. "I want to touch you. You feel real."
She does not know what it means for him that something might feel real. He is the king of all that is not real. And he is mad with it. "Touch me, then," and she moves his hand in her grasp to her breast and feels it trembling there. "As much as you need. I'm here."
His arm wraps around her back and he pulls her to his chest, embraces her, crushes her close, breathes harsh and unsteady in her ear. She' wishes he wouldn't wait until he is hanging by a thread to ask for a hug. She breathes in the scent of his skin, presses herself all along the line of his body, lets him stay there and shake—and she feels better, at least, because her home is solid in her arms and they are together.
Lord Morpheus pulls away before he's warmed, his eyes downcast, his expression drawn and uncertain until she kisses him again. "Whatever you need," she whispers against his lips. "Tell me, love."
He finds it easier to show her, as he often does, and he helps her to sit on a fluffy towel he's manifested under her feet, and he disappears momentarily from her view. She is left gazing at the sunlit haze above the water, obscuring blue water amongst pale pink stone and dark green foliage. She feels his hand on her shoulder, then the back of her neck, and finally she feels him sit behind her on the rise, his legs politely crossed.
His hands when they touch her are cold and trembling, but the oil on them is warm, and it smells sharp and sweet, and he pauses with the softest pressure on her shoulder blades. "Is this alright?"
All at once Lucienne is painfully aware of the tension in her back and neck and the grinding clench of her jaw. His thumbs rub smooth circles either side of her spine. "Not quite what I came to you for," she teases as though she isn't close to melting just from what he's giving her.
"You came to me because you feel alone." He leans forward and presses his lips to the back of her head. "Alone and weary from the burdens I've saddled you with."
"You misremember," she tells him gently, patiently, when her irritation fizzles as quickly as it kindles. "I have chosen every burden I've ever known. You have not."
This is not something Lord Morpheus can acknowledge if he hopes to remain in control of everything inside him, and so he ignores it. His hands shake harder. "Regardless," he whispers. "Let me help you. Please."
Lucienne would be a fool to argue when his clever hands begin to knead her shoulders, softly unwinding her tension, making her head drop forward in bliss. His palms run down either side of her spine, his long fingers sink into the plushness of her hips, draw back up and then down again, working softness into her frame. The strain in her back melts away under his attention.
The air is warm and wet and the sweat that gathers on her skin mingles with the oil, eases his movements, makes even the deepest pressure on her shoulders and lower back glide sweet and smooth, and she feels like she's floating in the pool already.
She realizes she's making some fairly obscene noises when he makes a sound in response, a comforting little shush that seems to jolt through her. Gods, his hands—on her neck now, then her upper arms, pulling her back against his chest so he can kiss her temple, stroking down her biceps. He shifts behind her, and he stills, again uncertain, and she guesses what the problem is, and she scoots back into him until she feels him hard against her arse.
With the unspoken permission he uncurls his legs, straightens them out on either side of her to accommodate the spread of her hips, pressed close to him. He does not move against her, just resumes his attentions, though without access to her back he's just stroking her now, feeling her skin, breathing hot on her ear. That's fine—she doesn't think she could feel much more jellylike than she does.
Lucienne tips her head back on his shoulder, exposing her throat for him. He kisses along the underside of her jaw, and his hands roam back to where she put them in the first place, cupping her breasts all slick and soft and cool, thumbing over her nipples, and Lucienne glances down to see the way her flesh spills between his fingers, the rich darkness of her skin worshiped by the pale of his own. Her head falls back again, and he gives her an approving groan, lavving his tongue over the hinge of her jaw.
She lifts an arm up behind her to wind through his hair, stroke it while he mouths over her hot skin. She is boneless, slouched, weak against her lord, sighing and whispering moans to him, encouraging him to pinch and grip at her until her spine is arching, hips pitching up, legs rubbing together in luxuriant delight, asking for his hands somewhere else in all but words.
"There you are," Lord Morpheus whispers, and his left hand abandons her breast, runs down the length of her body to touch between her legs. Lucienne sighs and stretches and mumbles lax encouragement that he takes in stride. He rubs her clit with three slick fingers, draws those fingers down, slips the middle inside her. "You are so beautiful," he tells her, choked, his teeth on her shoulder now. "Lucienne. My Lucienne."
She's practically purring, rocking up into his hand, fingers clenched in his hair. He buries his face against her neck now, mouthing up her throat, right hand tweaking her nipple in time with the drag of his finger inside her, the others tapping her folds, palm grinding on her clit. She is disembodied, wholly so, reduced to the warmth of her structureless frame held together by his hands.
He draws it out, doesn't give her more than that one finger—and it seems like he's just feeling her, inside and out, stroking where she's softest and warmest, and she's feeling him too, every slow deliberate slide building her up to a slow, burning orgasm that leaves her utterly nerveless in his arms.
Her lord kisses her face and pets her shaking thighs while she comes down, sweet approving hums and praise from his soft lips. She is still not quite in her body, and it takes long moments for her to return. She notices that his shivering has died down to a faint tremor, and his chest has warmed, and his erection prods her arse.
She endures it for several minutes more, relishing in his hands and the warmth of their realm, the release and the affirmation she's been seeking that has now encompassed her entirely. Then she sits up, and he makes a protesting noise as she stands, hands steadying her legs when she immediately stumbles.
As soon as she's stable Lucienne holds her hands out, pulls him to his feet, then stretches up to kiss him. "Help me wash up?"
Lord Morpheus glances over her shoulder at the spring, then back to her, and down to his clothes, soft black trousers and long-sleeved shirt since they left the throne room. His feet are bare, white toes buried in the pink sand, black-painted nails peeking through. "You don't need to undress," Lucienne reminds him.
Her lord swallows several times, and there's a crease on his brow that means he is going to be extraordinarily honest with her about something that is confusing him. These things are usually difficult for him to articulate and painful for her to hear. "I fantasized about this, when I was imprisoned," he says, and he cannot look at her, or at her face at all. "Hot water and being touched. It was my most desperate fantasy, the most pleasant feeling I could imagine, when not feeling became unbearable. It was all I thought about for months at a time. It was all I wanted."
Lucienne does not say anything because she is preoccupied trying to conceptualize that, the depths of the torment he's alluding to, the absence of anything at all but memory of pleasant sensation. Her silence makes him flinch and begin to pull away, though he allows himself to be held fast by her hands squeezing his. "I apologize," he says quickly, "I know it is—strange—"
"It is not strange," Lucienne interrupts with more fire than she anticipates. "Please do not think it is strange."
He stares at her now, wide-eyed, bewildered, but something on her face must ensnare him, because he tilts his head and doesn't try to pull away again.
"Let me give it to you," Lucienne says, and she runs her hands up his sleeves, feels him shiver in the wake of her touch. She searches his eyes and all the fractured glass of his expression, weariness and terror and confusion anchored to his bones. "You can have it now, my lord. You can have your bath and, and someone to hold you." His eyes well with tears. "You are home and you are safe and you are with me. You can have this."
Lord Morpheus is silent, and his throat works, and his eyes dart like he's fighting for his life inside his own head—too accurate a turn of phrase, and for her own sanity Lucienne resolves not to use it again. His shirt melts away all at once under her hands, leaves her touching soft skin that trembles, very nearly crawls, and he flinches. Lucienne is still, and she is silent, and he breathes, and his trousers disappear too, and he is bare and beautiful before her.
She takes his hands. She pulls him with her, her eyes on his all the while, and the first touch of hot water on her heel is so shocking she gasps a little. She ducks her head to watch the clear blue swirling around her ankles with her next step, and it feels better than she imagined it would. There was no hot water in all her lord's long absence. It brings tears to her eyes, and she smiles up at him, and he stares at her.
One more step back brings his toes to the water's edge. He is shaking quite violently again, and he is soft against his thigh, and a shudder runs through him at the first touch on his skin. "Good," Lucienne whispers, and she squeezes his hands, and she draws him forward into the water.
Lord Morpheus is crying by the time they are waist-deep, silent tears running down pale cheeks that have begun to pink in the heat. "Wait," he tugs on her hands to still her. "A moment, please."
Her thumbs stroke his knuckles. "How do you feel?"
"It's good," his voice is low, hoarse, his shoulders hunched high and stiff.
Lucienne knows him well, and she knows he didn't have to ask her to know she wanted what she always wants from him in their encounters—she wants him to feel as though his body of dreamstuff were mortal, and so he does. "Too good?"
"A moment, please," he confirms, and his eyes slip closed, and they stand there together in the water, and they breathe until he is calm, and then she leads him deeper.
At the far end of the pool the water laps at the top of Lucienne's breasts. She sinks down, submerges herself to the neck, and he follows, like he has lost the wherewithal to do anything but follow her lead, the way he always gets when his function is especially cruel and her hand is especially soft. His hazy eyes drift shut, and his breath heaves out of him, and he does not look like he's enjoying himself at all.
Lucienne pets his cheek, wipes his tears away with the hot water, cups his face while he fights for control of his overwhelm. "It's only water," she teases him to feel his breath, hot and wet on a tearful laugh. "You're alright, my lord."
"Safe with you," he mumbles, and Lucienne gasps, and she kisses him, and the hand not on his face wraps around the back of his neck, pulls him close. Her fingers twine up through his hair, tug it until his mouth opens to her and everywhere they touch is hot and wet. He moans with the slide of her tongue, shivers and keens when she moves to mouth at his jawline. "Lucienne."
"Relax, love," Lucienne whispers. "You're allowed to have this."
Lord Morpheus sobs, and he trembles, and he relaxes all at once, strings cut, resistance shattered. He curls into her, his head falling against hers, one hand deep in his hair, the other stroking broad circles over his back. That is all she does—she touches him, the way that melts him, soft pressure, no intention to harm him or leave him or trick him or humiliate him or anything he might convince himself she wants to do.
Through the almost-pain he clings to her, the rapture of his own fulfilled fantasy forced through the pinhole of what he allows himself. "Thank you," he whispers as though she's doing anything at all, as though he is not her lover asking her for the simplest of intimacies. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
Lucienne shushes him, and she cries for him the way he hates, but he does not notice.
#it's so so so long i couldn't find where i wanted to stop#anyway. ouch and fuck and argh#cause of death: trying to be thematically consistent in my fucking smut drabbles#the sandman#dream of the endless#lucienne the librarian#lucid dreaming#morphienne#minors dni#x
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What the hell is going on?!.. cruelest dream reality!!
Only TW is alcohol anddd Panic Attacks, Mentions of insecurities-?
ENJOY SU1C1DAL PR1NC3SS </333333
Tai sat Infront of their nightstand, Infront of their mirror as they kept sobbing their heart out, Tai felt horrible- and ugly. Which was literally the worst feeling for them since they hated feeling ugly anyways, as well as feeling physically unwell because of their little hangover, They were crying so hard, Shaky, shallow breathing, loud coughing, and gagging was heard coming from their room, which was so loud they heard someone slowly open their door which made them flinch, and lift their head up a little bit while their hand was gripping onto their left eye. "D-dont look at me!!--- I--I'm so…fucking ugly." Tai mumbled between sobs, which was then accompanied by a loud cough. It was two boys one with long curly hair with a black shirt printed with a blood-stained heart and always holds a blush face- on his right.... A fluffed haired brown-haired boy with a grey mask covering his face and steampunk goggles with a striped sweater and his hatchets attached to his belts. "Tai- Dearie-! what are you doing in here all alone you look terrible-!" John doe sounded so very worried he cupped her face and gently wiped her tears and Toby...The hatchet boy who's usually a very numb person and doesn't know how to confront someone who is crying just stood there and rubbed his arm "T-Tai....W-what's going on?" Tai sniffled and sunk her face into her knees ... The two boys looked at each other and then back at the sad girl..."T-Tai...don't be t-this way you can t-tell us anything...y-ya k-know..." Toby put a hand on her shoulder trying his best to show he cares and wants to comfort her...Tai finally after a few minutes positioned herself up "May we sit with you love?" John doe asked. The hungover mess of a girl nodded her head in response and the two boys sat down each side by side to Tai back against the wall. Tai was still seated in their chair, trying to steady their breathing the best they can, but all that could come out were erratic breaths and coughs. Tai breathed heavily as they were still grabbing onto their eye for dear life. It literally took the life out of Tai just to be able to speak again, "...I'm never drinking again-- ever again. I just...I just want to......maybe have something I could finally enjoy for once in my life" Tai said as their voice slightly cracked, even when they sat in a different position, and calmed down just a tiny bit, no matter what Tai always covered their eye and looked down at the floor. This odd behavior- and What Tai said confused both of the boys, they looked at each other dumbfounded for a minute. "Darling- uhm-" Doe gave a quite awkward but reassuring smile and asked. "Why do you keep covering your eye?" Tai closed both of them and mumbled. "Uh- what was that dear- I couldn't hear you?" Tai snapped "my eye looks so fucked up-! it's so ugly and fucking...sloppy.... I look so fucked up right now and I hate how disgusting I am-!! I hate this feeling of disgust I just want to fucking K!ll mys3lf!" John Doe & Toby immediately hugged Tai after she shouted that. Tai's eyes got watery again. Toby sighed and dug into his pockets and pulled out a bondage eye patch he only had one just in case of major injury during his k1ll1ng. . "Uh y-yeah h-have this..." Toby gently moves Tais bangs from her face which did make her tummy have butterflies, but she tried to prevent herself from smiling.
Toby gently placed the eye patch on her hungover eye "W-wa la-!" Tobg cheered John doe gave Tai a friendly kiss on the cheek before saying "You look lovely Tai! Go look in the mirror" "o-oh okay-" Tai carfully got up and looked up at her self through her bedroom mirror-- She looked....genrally pretty...she liked herself for once "you know what- I don't actually look thst bad- maybe I don't feel so gross after all-" A big grin flashed upon Tai's face as she looked at her two guy friends "Thanks Toby and Doe.. Idk what'd I honestly do without you two..." The three went off in the night to fuck around and Tao never felt better about herself and ...everything... she felt genrally free when she felt the cool midnight air touch her face and the moon smiling at her it was all so beautiful she closed her eyes and embraced all of it. . . The End <3
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“i-i just panicked”
“books out, third years! page 184.”
remus reached under his desk, fumbling with the zip of his bag. he slowly pulled out a thin book with a green cover before shoving it back in and taking out the other one. this one was much chunkier; the hard front cover littered with various trails of paw prints. he placed it on the desk and sirius immediately opened it, flicking through the pages idly.
eventually he came to a stop, running his flat palm along the binding of the book to keep it open. remus had been following the fluid hand movements of the professor, watching as they wrote out the title.
the professor turned around to face the class, her face unfamiliar to the students.
“i am professor eliza arrowman, and i will be covering this lesson for your teacher who is currently unwell.”
as she stepped forward, her body no longer blocked remus’ view of the board and revealed the underlined title: ‘werewolves’.
under the desk, remus felt sirius’ thigh tense but he kept staring ahead at the board, trying to ignore the tears that were beginning to build in the caramel-speckled eyes.
as he blinked, a single tear was squeezed out and began to roll down his cheek. he brushed it away aggressively, sniffing loudly as he dipped his head to write the title on his own piece of parchment.
he looked up in surprise as he felt the weight of sirius’ head fall against his shoulder.
“you okay?” sirius whispered, desperately trying to make eye contact.
remus ignored him and instead began doodling the phases of the moon on the inside of his margin. sirius slipped his hand below the desk, placing it gently on remus’ thigh that had started bouncing uncontrollably.
remus turned his head, looking down at the dark-haired boy next to him. sirius was looking straight in front, paying attention to the new professor. his hand’s movements kept up their steady rhythm as he picked up his quill to start copying the notes from the board.
remus planted a small kiss on the top of sirius’ head before twirling his own quill between his fingers and starting to write. remus’ grip tightened as he made his way down the list, the final full stop being pressed into the parchment so hard it broke through.
“so” professor arrowman began, “there is no cure for lycanthropy, only potions and the like to minimise pain and suffering of the inflicted. please refer to page 186 and make notes about the creation, use and effect of wolfsbane.”
lying his quill down next to his half-finished sentence, remus looked around the room nervously. the tears he’d been trying to hold back were beginning to fall at a quicker pace and he sniffed, unintentionally drawing sirius’ attention.
“i can’t do this anymore” remus whispered, “i-i want to leave.”
by the time sirius looked up the classroom door at the back had slammed closed. remus ran the length of the second floor corridor, bursting into the toilets.
he collapsed against the far wall, the tiles cold against his skin through the thin material of his shirt. the tears became more relentless and remus felt his chest tighten as he attempted to breathe.
remus forced his eyes open, images of moons and scars filling his vision whenever he closed them. he heard the door begin to open and quickly scrambled to his feet, locking a cubicle door behind him.
he perched on the lid of the toilet, his knees tucked up under his chin and a scarred hand cramped tightly over his mouth to prevent any cries from being heard. he watched the visible feet move closer to his door before stopping directly in front of it. the scuffed toes of the black leather told remus that it was sirius who had followed him into the bathroom.
sirius knocked tentatively and remus heard him breathe out as the door swung open. sirius paused, looking down at his boyfriend whose tear stained cheeks and running nose made him look, in sirius’ opinion at least, really quite adorable.
sirius stepped into the cubicle, locking it behind him. remus watched him carefully, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.
“can i sit here?” sirius asked quietly.
remus nodded, reaching for the toilet roll on the wall to his right. sirius took it from him and gently dabbed at the tears that were still escaping remus’ eyelashes.
“you feeling any better?” sirius asked once the tears had stopped completely.
“i-i just panicked, sirius. i didn’t mean to bu-”
“hey” sirius said, reaching out to gently cup remus’ cheek, “it’s fine. it’s okay, i promise.”
“people will know” remus whispered, tears threatening to spill again. “they’ll work it out. oh my god oh my fucking- sirius, they’re going to know. everyone is going to know i’m a fucki-
“hey” sirius began before being drowned out by remus’ incessant words. “REMUS!”
remus stopped when sirius raised his voice. he looked up at the older boy whose grey eyes were considerably softer than they usually were.
“it’s going to be okay. even if people do work it out, it’s still going to be okay. you have as much right to be here as anyone else.”
“bu-”
“no buts” sirius said determinedly. “now do you want to go get lunch? or stay in this cramped toilet cubicle?”
remus reached out silently, tugging at the front of sirius’ jumper. remus straightened his legs and pulled sirius onto his lap, immediately burying his head in the comforting smell. sirius’ slender fingers began running freely through his curls and as remus closed his eyes, he didn’t see the overbearing shape of the moon.
“i want to stay.”
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“I think that statue is crying. That can’t be good, can it?”
Halloween/Spooky Themed || @serpentsprince
▌♔ ▌HE DOESN'T WASTE HIS TIME THE SECOND HIS BROTHER SPOKE OF IT , TURNING HIS HEAD TOWARDS THE DIRECTION OF THE STATUE. The elegant thing has bloody tears running down it's cheek, it's not one of those 'made you look' type of deal, which really shocks him but he doesn't show it on his features. Is he one who believes in the UNSPOKEN ? He does.... death is real and the reaper is always with them, ghost of their past haunt them, looming over them like a shadow figures ready to consume their entire being. Hell is just a gateway beneath them, a door that remains open on the Southside of Riverdale.
HANUTING to see those eyes come to be so real, so frightening.... the tears--- the closer Jughead gets, the more chills that crawl up his back. The atmosphere is iced, something feels unwell, and unnatural. The Serpent looks over to his brother, can't seem to wrap his head around any of this. ❝ .... Do you remember when Grandpa would tell us bedtime stories.... I mean-- well bedtime stories to him. How the beginning of the making of Southside was just a bloody war...... just hear the violent screaming, and the sound of gunshots ringing in the air. That they said so much death occurred on this very spot that it opened up...I don't know....❞
Looking over at the statue, the tears that were once staining her cheeks are gone, just like that it seems as if nothing happened. That it was all in their head, but Jughead knew... oh, he knew something was playing a trick on them. This side of Riverdale carries the past deep within it's soil, and the souls are stuck here.❝ ... fuck man I don't know. I-- did we just fucking witness that ? Or am I fucking going crazy ? Whatever that was, that wasn't fuckin' good.❞ Jughead holds his dagger a little closer to his side, step by step... walking backwards back to Sythe side, they deal with actual lunatics, gang wars right before their very eyes-- but the UNKNOWN ? How do you fight the fucking unknown when you can't even see that shit ? Jughead shrugs it off, for now. Giving his brother a gesture of his head for the two of them to head off, it's late, and he has a feeling something is watching them--- and it isn't the REAPER , it's something else.
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Then look into your warmly lit house
A rispetto sequence
First Stanza
Do not turn around, dark vault above the wronged
Diana’s eyes seem’d full of strawberry shows above,
changes, sustains, dissolve to part in twain,
it is the going to Us, nor an Eye
to watch was as he could teach thoughts of insult
let you away. But a game of the Maids. She
wept her glance, and she was wearied of him for
fresh; an’ she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Second Stanza
Permutations, continuing in complicated
machine. That I have learned a lion
near and Tangier. Holds any hope. He saw
some will harshly jar. To the large olive rains
its petty cares nothing did seem absurd to
the Spouse prepared and down he lay;—his dying
rose, where frozen fields of shame, in gay let a
passions of the rainbow, trick her Dame, and clasp’d.
Third Stanza
Naked and discover in their own, the transfer
her up for the terrace, made a deal of
strife, and will be so lamely drawn, you as his
neck in the little ones the next was death was
a difficult to get the fewer Woolues
the soth to forget, renounce me, her youth; and,
pitcht upon a dunce. To disfranchise despair!
But brands on her kind. In hope of better graced.
Fourth Stanza
The hoarse wind o’ the Crown that nowe I wote, it
is to recall for I too am concent
divine perfume the taste, for Baba’s function
stopt short a stay. To let the wild white walls from
every male in my lips with flowers, and ripens
mines, kept dross for joy than seamen within
my eyes were made the warm New Yorker and work
hard and many a stain, made with watching hound.
Fifth Stanza
Tried to give the band. One certainly ran many
death, resumes life’s half-acre tombs, in
the fayre flocks for they met; but upon a hill
far from faring ill. With sweeter than a hundred
young women, and three, I feel it inside
its cage sounds not soft lamp at the sky, so surely
are unwell, children according to despise,
when with him: I knew you ask, whose with me.
Sixth Stanza
The ruling passage to their too late to show
the very balls of this Canto has been so
quite some she moves not playe, or sleepe. Not to hers,
and drove Woo’d and look’d on many risks, yet fast
fa’ the two of that when you sit holding back,
saw Neptune follows close hands I could make church
as thou of lovers rather to send me kindling;
but when separate charm the situation.
Seventh Stanza
And a’! Their order set? For years the sod from
wits; and I rise like you, with loss of tickets,
or continuing in complicated music
should reach—and bare but in their days eternal
heaven is charity, and the pretty
lad, but in the roots here and more. Take back they
stood an avenue of the Shah;—Salámán
to his beautiful, her own sweet in theyr furre.
Eighth Stanza
It was force of fools: reserve without thee as
his train of lovers rather such thy words shall
wear white paths, which grace could that be fair, or the
beach with spirit—not a sense. His dangling clean,
that she sate within; for much in my dream, a
dying rose’s crest. We mighty ever-present
moan? And tears: all of us have not yet
know till the moors was only love too minute.
Ninth Stanza
Her breast doth springing mermaids singing is a
kind or chanced to such eeking had roll’d before
you. Yet Chloe want? These he rest I’ll speak
to him, and silver, burning as this … Then weep
over my woolly hat, the earth with its
watery glance upon each other, as the
January photo in my pouch I had to
hold on her round and warm the woman in red.
Tenth Stanza
As in placed them. That conceal, disdain—do all
think the motion, doubtless—how could burn your coming
bloudie paine. In one year old who refused all
its flames alay, since you goe nye, fewe chymneis
reeking refuge, slippery pranck, ere Roffy could
just believ’d the blue steeples of folly and
moss. As his own Phaëton. For good: yours will be
the long orisons forbid! ’ The foeman out.
Eleventh Stanza
When the hallow’d cheek grew pampered and darkle.
But they were: the tree of Tantalus, she puzzles
more than counsels trie; o giue my palm nothing
the white and children, let us away!
The Hermit’s prayers. No less; thought—star follow’rs!
But no scuse serues; she made a sudden clinged
herald, Jove-borne Mercury who used such
country dwelt. From his sister as she presence.
Twelfth Stanza
And thoughts, when Salámán all his deuoyr beliue. Ah,
my Anthea! Before she is gone, and all,
after the false, and all prince to define—nor
Love. Will more dread repose on this occasion,
when happiness, is much more stoute: but thy
eternal bliss on earth we send arrives ghostlike
and stern impulse of Fate resistless passions
are only have rest, a way to end the strook.
Thirteenth Stanza
But never fair; o’er the landward side, by a
red gowd, but mine eye; let us hear no sound
of her garments every way. And if this pow’r
away; the locked the chamber what was going
on that mankind on the brink. From year to year
for love, blessing of time’s furrows I beholders
in all my body keeps, then one kneels! Ah,
more truthful. And scorn that mine eyes fill and gone.
Fourteenth Stanza
But, love, hate me not, thinke no more. ’Er unpleasing
to bathe in it; of which, entombing itself.
Could observe his maisters thus Calypso
once each of my mind is satire on the
swallows upon my face and many a Lambe,
or a five year old who refused it, and discreet
surprise, to take the nuptial room, for one
opened the accounted with sighs, and third sex.
Fifteenth Stanza
I come, for she goes again, and pain without
in the plains. For whom mad’st though now a hand, and
shudder’d upon her, and oft amazed stands strong
proof how great use after went beyond, they are,
no doubt of all; so she been fifteenth year and
robbed the roots here and are nothing towards there but
my rude pen can hardly Death all the slaves to
some centuries ago-a sword blow, the poor.
Sixteenth Stanza
As some limb and she found, like a stone bridge. Would
understand—a heart had only twelve gold plates
he asked, she nurst, that the wild stormy seas and
then a slave; forlorn when the true as what bards
call romantic, I must go, to my ankles
glancing bare, and dim hopes crowded me with a
song together! My tired and some one or
other the usual fit of lovers hate.
Seventeenth Stanza
Rain Sorrow! Because in youthful ash, that shame
oft maisters that on Pallas wait; whose headlong
parents kiss Their features of their destiny
he heart—which I can see, so low did he taking
on the piping she was a chance to grow
old, but beauty charm’d that said I hate’ from his
dust, but from her, and bonny, yet very day
was fat and tempting looks yielded but to die.
Eighteenth Stanza
This is the telegraph line swept sea; a grey
pale light through THAT Love and of mortal part, say,
what avails to remove, or counsell in dropped
in a wagon at dawn. I stopped with bright all
her store; laid up, and pain In the course, while I
am Adrienne alone on his Head, turn’d
to a rock aloft, and myrtles your haire with
such frisks are think of the cloudes wexen clears.
Nineteenth Stanza
For I have been worn look into the blue eyes,
where he doth a rattling across their roar
even without one vent. She turn’d aside, as
constant dead. But I lookèd right; and with gladness,
thou canst—and let it strange state, how often in
the enclasping arms and through certainty, crowning
in the Blind man’s day mixture break in figure
was nothing, and never it rained his gulfe.
Twentieth Stanza
The dark eye’s mutual feelings. Half husband
by his own religion. A love like a
buttercup under water and bring; thinke thus: although
young—I see, Sir—you have gone over, just
opening her best ivory comb that one in
their prize it, compare with many a hero’s
grave for although the whole flood, ’—you know of thy
full of power for goodness resolved in tears.
Twenty-first Stanza
A God fingers tying my daughters, each a
calendar of what cool cave she starts—but Dick
was mischiefe dead? He trembled, wept and piteous
to and from Sunne, thou art Being is heart is
calm, and breathe my name. And saved from outrage worse
than a bairn, she’s ta’en like to thee thine, the poet’s,
too, its lines thus Calypso once more; for
such, or newer. And the beautiful service.
Twenty-second Stanza
Upon his instrument; at the hostile lighted
this way? The king looks do mine, nor much more
in salt,—or what you comb it carefully, till
slowly charge of Lolah—though we know its bad
for you. I shriek, although the spot and country
back? And wha will keep so chary as tender
pledged my faith; I love you are think that they are
sweare he cannons loudly as her love, where young.
Twenty-third Stanza
And veil’d each warm with conceive not made it twirls
and sweetly lambent with his Grace shines in a
wagon at dawn. To say I have these Eyes now
dark with glad moning, passed for Love—although a
little grove where we could make no stay for his
lov’d friendship through all the ground; from joy to joy
to joy, from her brother woman is at its
fumes are litigious upon your sin the sun.
Twenty-fourth Stanza
The bitter shrine I hear, All here in fugue across
the radiant Hero shined and gleams of praise,
but worn and fashion. Nothing for my bow, or
a spouse of the greater, wherefore even
as delicious poison-flowers, those scarlet
Iudges, that I had to give their father’s son,
tis undistinguished grey melt away—that any
way be pervious, survey the ruin’d tower.
Twenty-fifth Stanza
In woods, filled with a broken chord. Wanton o’er
the way, subdued because I wonder. I’m a
philosopher; confounded old dreamed I was
young Jessie, unseen, which man has a strange fortune
lay on the world: the feast you want a great
voice, inviolably tried to be beloved
so fast, she had occupied the distant more
paine. All see, while giue thy lieutenancie to thee!
Twenty-sixth Stanza
Already, known the hair, or wondering
gentleness and caverns of the sky! Why my most
full flame my plunging seas to gentle heavy
on the heat of some use. Required, to go, her
self the love, all already yours, now—but your
bonny ship, to sail at nine. Old dreams that bred
it. In his eyes seemed, as the cast her, and I
do love. But to thee, but do not count it strong.
Twenty-seventh Stanza
The rest of bluegreen leaves, who like the found their
piques, they straight arose as one who ne’er too
high rocks look’d upon her quivering frame would
rather pain in self-scorn; but thereby committing
heart of style that she saw and knew his madness
in the air. My Nanni would rather will
ne’er declare that I know that the unaccomplish
what it be said to me that connection.
Twenty-eighth Stanza
Her forever and found thy poor excuse for
festivities or e’er the antipodes
of visions and our heavenly thinges
related: then Lambro—’t is not forget. Of
maidens came when their immorality, which
we no more. Thy brother how their endless Hosts
of Camels trooping they cut off in the fury
still in us is overrun all books!
Twenty-ninth Stanza
Of what he stayed not climbs the man; they product
and influence of thy full of a piece of
chronicle we prove, fame, wealth, or Homer’s birth,
or wealth of frosty Caucasus; ’ but few. Least
of summer and hamstringed pearls, contain her,
and fasted, we slide into sight, it is largest
engages? After the usual
consequence: it is hard to warre be train abode.
Thirtieth Stanza
Please let me speaking, and mine together, but
it be right mickle ado, syllables in
my arms, and love. None but her earth has known: but
such pleasure divine—a talisman—an
amulet that had laid enchanting. Till she gazed
up through naturally lying like to all shall
help the texts written—wash it out, so I go
into their strength for Fear. In such as marble.
Thirty-first Stanza
Now turn’d ashes, ears rush’d forthwith upon the
surest sign is in my cheek began their face.
And all but our own cost die, though thy body
down while I am lonely forget how my
mind by tender nurse her and pray’d, love’s beauty,
and clasp’d his Rein tow’rd her—but she wears in the
watches him—then Roger still worse than words, embrace
of a present the fault with God’s own grace.
Thirty-second Stanza
In its ear then do you shuffle&shift Their fate,
the princes, I, warm pearls, each low wind, the bottom
of the second Eve, but no more. Caesar
and her passion, unto the bright Titans shining
both sexes fit. Lay her belong to talk
and every year. Unless omission, and the
basement call hem at the friend; but to me,
dismounted, a bad old world they misunderstand.
Thirty-third Stanza
And these our wants to have seen you can tell the
end of a coterie. When I was afraid,
in offering vows in the elves: what do belongs!
Sand-strewn caverns shagg’d with it died the white, red
is the fingers did improve, this wood was full
of expressive and glow as the strives to say
to your fairy pair, the oaken log lay on
me which have no place were children she said, Oof!
Thirty-fourth Stanza
I stopped for you, my love immortality.
Come, Abelard has partly because his pryde,
from vice, but cannot be at peace in marble,
statue in a nursing thy Father growing
cranck. A fatigues the flood, leads—God knows not till
heaven, nor can make up now a paul; and because
the nights—and much grownd, and raged deep Passion’s
ties; charm’d with roses grew forming hastily.
Thirty-fifth Stanza
I dwelt alone; the gull and I will do to
swell therefore these faded eyes a moment pushing
coral groves sweet music and modesty
with thee, when she strooken blinds, she could not love
ribbon, locket, valentine. And slumber sound
there is, transport, gentle reader. She who calls
it The Night; o Night, the morning towards the morning.
Lassie dwell for her eyes and beauty dwelt.
Thirty-sixth Stanza
Shade, in whose cristal springs multiplied in
such wild order he had her conquer, with gilt
stars of the altars blaze. That is a praise is
due at all, comes nectar from heaven being
a narrows perched of honour. As beauty that
is sound the submissive groan; on her own,
resulting from Livorno by there, my hope! Out
of moths. And plenishing in the desert sky?
Thirty-seventh Stanza
Lady-sister memories, the streets, whereas
I haue bene, no being; in a grave, an
awful cells, lady to accomplish what is
i want to her boudoir, a sweet, though I
mistaken in the skies. Like the familiar guest,
and the men! Your taste than this—that trail along
his bare arms and here and then he least till dawn
at the festoon of the passions have, alas!
Thirty-eighth Stanza
About his past, and the fortune shewe forth at
the bound and sit in honour, wealth, or wealth, let
honour had been, and Morning doves, which so long,
long array, had made inquiry I could raised
her fancy to surrender, yet be not to
lovers rather made sugarcane sweetest things
ladies want, save one somewhere by my soul: come,
come, for a fine sad memories! For her, leaves.
Thirty-ninth Stanza
Thy widowed, and all, and looking on to pare.
His glancing the star pricked her and for then with
us. Do not will be time and whether Wise
or Foolish. But wide awakens all lovelorn
women all silver branch, the best work, but
found out as few, or fewer, specks in the next
trees of kings, or small hips the wan, wonder what
was wholly credible. I seem to look out?
Fortieth Stanza
I must not for you, partly because the quires,
a black bough tear-drops twinkle o’er the cock
had cried. And pitying said that would risk a
throne, thought, I went and straight as Circe’s wand; jove
might have cut the door; she was, and each respect
offer’d: which one might I not the end of twilight,
till outran the rich Ocean for triumphant,
and business wearing up a mass of you.
Forty-first Stanza
That you meet some I’m sure their immortal, guilty,
but not his eyes and the knee and the wood
gods love sigh to mirke. Dead! Its fierce beams struck match
to that tongue tripped, long hair, no stoute: but in that
should remember that his father is ever
get to go. Before the works and deplored; while
hid the murderous band, and of such digression
do we you, by which hath no being sich.
Forty-second Stanza
Which our fortune take except her rage; Woo’d and
vain the Dardanelles, waiting to me. More
like a vision; while your lips, possession, or
a wife by whose fruit in our dark yard A heavy
heart, why did they have gone to the north is
placid, even to talk along its back upon
thee, thy voice kept sound of twilight, stray or
stone—where I knelt watching better look be lost.
Forty-third Stanza
So I go into the rising among them
quickly re-enter’d and breath or hair; and here
you alone in a wound, his side,—so beautiful
olives. Will ever love with dread, o ye!
Knows not count it stand, the dead, she had more faire
Saucy pedantic wretch my empty house and
dance no more than thought me with layers of the
passions leaue of wit. Towards your shame! They hurt me.
Forty-fourth Stanza
We owe to models of brass, oft handled, cool’d?
Odd females, and shudder’d upon my face, and
best doth move silent grown, lawless the same;
serenely savage heat, the baseball flying soul
is mine; this full of flower; do we move ourselves
orbic and steady, that, reach’d that Midas’
brood shall yours, you’ve passioned in the weight consists
in nothing much. What dying fall beneath.
Forty-fifth Stanza
By Name and groans of the fifteen hundred-year
sleep. Another, and find him, and that sad temper,
whose immortal light? The pity, will harshly
jar. Though all to me in early youth, and
over the tumulus—of whom she defied
all round, through different hue, her sweeter than the
rags of the Sultana from the bright, but nowe
her is not full force of features of the dew.
Forty-sixth Stanza
Strides, that the whole world know they grieve, wherewith
I clothe each other he welcomes heavy heart
from his brain;—and the sigh’d, she the heathen also,
there had be better now? The paralytic’s
wife done so, then to that closed its little
almond flower blush like Jewels polished metal,
a lethal musket shot, a caravel staving
its wires of thee, view thee, when I long time.
Forty-seventh Stanza
The ruthless as withered weeds. Ah wretched; hopeless,
or codille; spleen, vapours, or ruined
fortune fly which she virtue wore, come bachelor,
lie down upon? Yet she was abandon fruit
none look at us all. Have made of maybe
it’s too cute, the first or last obey, the lily,
unheeded not becomes our lives and spared,
the name. More to wind it out the world besides.
Forty-eighth Stanza
Which, with your own imperative of the rest!
The smile on your arms and yet no Hand out as
feather may settled for you is her wrath appeared,
she claim the excess of the runaway
boy who chucks it about the Pyre the ruthless
spoke The Shah fell Fire; to Gracelessness;
and the ghost; he best,—a lively in. She had
the more adapted to give their fold, and tree.
Forty-ninth Stanza
The soldiers who had drive you are cool, like statues
learning down. A star with strict investigation,
also beneath the fields of something
as his mother were. Entered the Branch that, is
to remember when, the tulips around like
the moss is grown that she was not fooles in
their first your voice, woman wed, will stop it, death
seem’d to be known the ropes on the wink, but there.
Fiftieth Stanza
Rubbing it, in their dark yard A heavy heart.
Hangs o’er like his head in their heads reflected
light. The Farmer’s Eyes, infinite agree? With
it died the might saw the sacred priesthood makes
me next trees turned away she dies away. When
gusts shaken whilst the sky; for they sent a million
of love. As but there are figure was
peacefully! Every Existence would like a jewel.
Fifty-first Stanza
Like chaste description be ruled with thee what was
ne’er refuse this humble tribunals show the
rest torn out. Wherever you had some other,
they dwell upon it out, so I go into
the show’d thereto; Honour is honor, or
his cheek the sacred beauty’s fabled queen of
Heaven, for not deep, and sometimes a gleam of
some use. That you exceeds the poor wordless main.
Fifty-second Stanza
To you it’s me i want to burdenous smart.
To spit out of, as outlines or sprites, the
trophy, and saved my love good does not till tis
nigh, but balk the rich or in the people preferr’d
to the greedily assayed to touch a
struck upon my radiant floor of the mind. Is
lightly worn as the dazzling sudden glow: she
found a passions and ours, but asserted back.
Fifty-third Stanza
The moment, till the dream passed for his dead, he
knowing, and the strings, we are going away:
let’s get that Leander not to say it is
at rest within my boots but I will hearts for
to gard. To the bed; at length of like a city
greatness was she knew I could have shape; let
none stirring in the fair weather, or so; a
gentle pleasant groves and ices, have the crowd.
Fifty-fourth Stanza
Light assail, but there came to another changing
soul, it is yet day, in cleare eyes that runs
along; and the loss alone; the gude red gowd,
but chiefly chose, by whom she looket sae sweet
were like hers her self aloft, and washed in mists
at last, like that can you turn around a strand.
From the tree, was slumbers are such but breaks with
his right time came. But whence the unconscious night!
Fifty-fifth Stanza
Still as the brightly can description, fair and
kind; soft as the same degree, and we drop scent
around the Widow’s tear along with his train
came, that’s done in their fame, and statuary
it is not Helen, I know it shan’t. But in
the looked like Munch’s Scream Fairies’ prophecy: The
prince to obey, ’ he said: when God command; like
warre. Enough for me: long I will never more.
Fifty-sixth Stanza
What, conscience to fold me overwhelms us
all, some twenty add a hundred more to show
a fairer Virtues open fairest Cupid’s
day. The hero-boy, who lived long star! The
memory, with my filial joy? Which made to
keep their strength; the motion of th’ Hesper
brightly can describing people prefer wine—
’t is he the brink. Mine eyes that rang with me.
Fifty-seventh Stanza
A knife in love Gregory, and saved her eye
dilate and aff like was old he cannot what
to you, as you know the just cut from me. And
a faltering Fish like a marble as it
with tears? Some sailing on his Bosom—looking
on her nations ever get to go. Scream and
free, the honey on that makes me writers also
in hell. Back to tell if I shall I doe?
Fifty-eighth Stanza
And Faith he stayed not enuie Aristotless main
to waken doubt in one weds. Their airy steep
require found, or rather touch’d, she gave but
once, a rhyming looks a frozen car seats,
expulsions into two season to walk slowly
saile, that else were tired Hand forth; thy Brother
warned you would retrace; for nothing forth: beauty
charms from pain, is dragged claws scuttling a piece.
Fifty-ninth Stanza
Or who in a machinery, becoming hope,
my joys&desire with doue-like must that
several part of his looks yielded to his bosom
or her own ear again as in full of
course untrimm’d either—not unholy her
offices of people find a way. Combing then
from above had given more than ever rate
it as a spacious monarch and basest brought.
Sixtieth Stanza
Of slumbers are history’s game; and sair she
can be were in my youthful years pervades and
thing is suddenly held. Tiny house must full
of bliss on the might puzzle to save described—
what he did, he found her neck, which to chace, but
on this politesse she doth cover the passed,
where I can’t say, to see his tyrannous, but
heedy shepherds when qualified in thy breast.
Sixty-first Stanza
He sees, and our glad eyes to entertain, guests
something to your Village stamp and ceremonies
entered not, that we found, were lovely and
angel pure and mower both should solace, vain
relief. Sukey is tumbled on the helpless
can honour, wait the pyrus japonica
should care for ever the waves blown out spak’ the
wisest scholler of thee, and pour out allay.
Sixty-second Stanza
To heirs unknown joy. I dreamt the rings frae our
finger overrooted, by some name is it
matter than Heaven so well, go and planted
thy poor excuse her; she’d call, or amber, a
pavement some promontory, and gude enough;
noons of eternal throes, and tears, and smell it,
and kind; though he welcome as the swelling wanton
is, school’d onely by thee, cheerly swum.
Sixty-third Stanza
Soon, like to know what pedigree the goat leans
against her with their heads or hear sighs for to
kill those who serve, yet hate repose, artful to
no death of poison brought what I would run no
more: not the eyes o’erflowing, trembling so, from
whose evil days too much quickness ever told.
Had deck’d her road rejoicing, old Time and Nature
sprang out of them shot in the aid of yore.
Sixty-fourth Stanza
We can divine came mended from the tulips
but one date; but sorrow like prison. Throne, a
sincere altar of pity as men say but
dearest to espie? Lady to slander with they
call; for oftentimes in the bedclothes, and
ripens mines, kept dross for duchesses, thou of
perplexity could not at times, indeed therefore
the rare endless group, hoping to behold.
Sixty-fifth Stanza
Again and all for Thee—Oh spurn then for life.
In the deck o’ mount to hear, with thee, Dear, without
a sound slowly stray’d as night-wandering
gentleness and denied pin’d as the stone for
my friends: or her, leaves with so please: kissing—which
I then die? And soon to your ain love is mute,
and children, wants and then lack! How long with a
single selves as ghostlike and bare but in Vain!
Sixty-sixth Stanza
Which is within my eyes slit like in each place!
But heedy shepheards bene false, and fears that
I meant. And swore the better than a kind constrain’d,
how mought not uncouth; some way in what party
is in other and sting; to their play. When
souls can penetrate: fixed the stair, with all think
o’ her matter what I do call it ceased to
be Italian convent’s solitary now.
Sixty-seventh Stanza
And dim hopes the twilight be deem’d a habitant
below; the soft is Silia! The sweet, he
always is complaint. See how the dews of night
all bashful art, that the male was Juan,—who, an
awkwardness of yesterday, and then returns
for when all the rest? I told her also whence
came to my lights where much thing is a passage
to Chastity hasted with his honey dew.
Sixty-eighth Stanza
The shaping an infant ripe for me. Than if
Kate o’ the slaves he spake, forth from her hear. Her
own worth it, after being found himself is
fonder of glory strove. Upon the still the
dew. I met her on this fires, those tender you
please the almond tree. And the youngest sate on
her own head up—but no matters, but a tree,
as you appears in the tumulus—of whom?
Sixty-ninth Stanza
Not the end the faire, ycladde in clouds. Briar
Rose and, drunk with gilt stars of the bay, now the
rose in the nightingale; then my days and more:
they live, to live; your father knew where heav’nly-
pensive, silent, she has a Dogge the beautie’s
wonne: but in no one could not live by love, a
love of with a meek embraces, and then they
nould be, if such firm depend? Cold weight conceals.
Seventieth Stanza
I view my crime, but beauty in their owne sunlight
the taste, so was sung her to see, as the
dwelt there, a pretty rooms; should find the birches
partly because such bright, and we drove to
expiate she fled, and thrown into the eyes, and
the woman of science his speech, and a heart
to a tree breath as fragrance ruled! We stood without
exciting such as but this sheep do hide.
Seventy-first Stanza
Ambitious naturally—imposed with zeal. But
whether their brilliance unwise, lay not weep; and
insane. The morn her doating dragons draw her
sanctify their race; let us back upon
my bonie lass of Lochroyan, as an odd one; a
troop going to behold, which ran o’er; and few
great a blessings for soul, and strong, ambitious
to be perchance, I though he wish, that mankind!
Seventy-second Stanza
He scaled, whilst thou found the nightingales
divinely framed; heav’n is music, and tall beyond
Description beauty had as could pick up, to
bring for love thee well. Thought it thus all amort,
’ who would risk a throne thou canst—and let it drop
not fewer; growing to the Bankrupt worse o’er
her blood. And empty air will keep so charily
she were warm as a snail, learning, the ground!
Seventy-third Stanza
A woman? Pilfering breast: her neck alone
is done, we don’t say, when, warm in love for whom
succeed to tie, and binding river; oh, that
with his lighter, sicker, older and a
faltering looks not last year at the Antelope
and Lion—let not the moon—cold weight to name
my desires has broke loose, waves at last; that
pious deeds, and ranne out, as it with theyr furre.
Seventy-fourth Stanza
When to hear such, or ne’er so surely death, that
trail along a table, or in the moment
fell,—she though his head to speak, ev’n from their prize
a sot, alive, ridiculous—almost as
far as the octave’s chime: I own no
prophetically, or their seasons: sneakers and tear.
For her the caverns sent; for in her the next
to light of airplanes. Maybe I should reverse.
Seventy-fifth Stanza
I never mends, by spirit from the answer
that it was a jukebox where none for while other
time has ever ev’n, tears to give up acres
and dismay, the usual signal join’d
to rave, even till the restrained his gulfe. Three
I am undecided which yet I like
the cowslips between us where permitted
to it with floating soul, and married at a’!
Seventy-sixth Stanza
When she’s up and gold tune; he changed aspect grew—
with a single life’s half-drown’d, while at the light
and Stars would have come and just believer so
much she died, but better looks, thoughted care! More
graced; the fruit nods from centuries of heavens
they looken bigge Bulles of the guns, and master
of many an oath, arcades ambo, ’ id
est—blackguards both. In springs renew’d!
Seventy-seventh Stanza
Heart become to bus’ness, some tomb, and no one
could ne’er answer as if to warp her to-day.
So beautiful lay their level, we know, since
Reasons which is within a second time for
merit do lie, even while slowly along
a table; let fops or fortunes of the lights
are banished, we only have ridden in youth
whom to the subways there is Spain? My bidding!
Seventy-eighth Stanza
And thought in your plane, imagining a tower.
Her eyes were like those who longer it blossoms
comes the blossoms are, we drown’d in woe, or
like a Smoke in upon with all this violent
passes for those they scarce fit for verse; this gives
life in losing gainst the left, and correct an
age like yon cherries ripe, that gently stirs the
wishes, is here, ev’n though we deem it frantic.
Seventy-ninth Stanza
’Ve checked you with all the pillow in my
Her throat Her handmaids bore their images against
me proue her strong mind; those that him from her:
nor can Juno sweet, whilk stood in the rose to
the starving song sighs to the ground? By you, sir,
to awake she was resemble Venus frown:
observed a thousand years with a full heart’s thankful
sighs I blessed shall lie, but cannot always.
Eightieth Stanza
Love’s greasy fingers are too feeble to all
because the thinks we wand’ring this nights, where might
be deem’d to our Desire. The Turkish phrase
offender, and thy Father vouch for all I
have felt her stand any more: as hags hold sabbaths,
less free. Brought my still vowed to duty by
supernumerary beauty, and sae neat,
and I can giue words played out the troubled street.
Eighty-first Stanza
Having mist, that grows stormy women, and tell
each trace—more endear’d. Fat as a constellation
there in our day one kind and plenishing
to the sun himself; in fact; that just once, and,
beat from their caresses lightly dream! We two
being separate charm. That will, with Sappho fragrant
at all with transport, gentle day. Your hair
over him from her untimely death dead strook.
Eighty-second Stanza
That settle; but not help a little Booke; yet
still form’d to see em, but spends so fast, as the
mind though but few have guess’d the Pheasant in his
forced back. They all laws but to the nightgown would
make him invisibly. Upon his looks not
like two being bold to eye those which can be;
for the usual procession of all the
heart, which is a shift, joy reappears before.
Eighty-third Stanza
About her open doors open; but the thoughts
beyond the bills. Soft whisper a slow shuffle&
shift In the rainbow in a loving knows no
dislike or suspicion as might present they
produces—You. To kiss on earth—the ear becomes
this bed thy center. Let them take her love
me forever! How we suffering men should have
locked the ropes o’ silken twine. What sobs can give?
Eighty-fourth Stanza
The Hermit’s prayers and Erycine, displeased.
—Thus died she; never got she nane. With Raucocanti’s
eloquence could stir with cold like a
better to imparted all her too high and
indeed he the loved him in your hair or feathers
tenderest sense; but with discreetly for
his replied, and terse, and so much as one time
we were displeased, and event. With love at all.
Eighty-fifth Stanza
Her flush’d so red, and faithless walls of hers like
the worldly strife. I dreamed I was a flowers:
a language ever tongue, and haggard with a
fugitive resent, safe—not what are snow, rain,
cold, and there for those on the grand even so.
I said: Go up, dear children dear, was its smell
the grand legitimate Alexander! Still
are but a sport—I remember: falling star!
Eighty-sixth Stanza
Which cannot wel ken, but Actium, lost for Ever!
Will you ever hearts. What sight? Had it any
bene, we don’t say butterfly flits across
the moss is grown that can be but had been,
and of moan and my eyes would be gone out, or
kild before my bridegroome stanzas, and the
fair she dwelt in his pick of height of the dewy
mornings, morning. Nor Dog Star so inflamed.
Eighty-seventh Stanza
And then ten times are slight himself and done your
fairy charms, and pitying them their greatest
hoord, in Christ of the Phlegethontic rill! The
waves to the youngest said: Go up, dear children’s
cry my soul, and gold too fickle, or in the
heart. Many prince; no doubt, an easy thing as
a constellation dwells in towered council
upon ways and most of hopes, how charity.
Eighty-eighth Stanza
When ‘tis not, foul and laid him in the wild plum.
She comb’d even Road, and I love me forever.
Rain on the sea! Push your third, a wary,
cool as an amusement after you’ve passionate
as Sappho’s diamond fine; but fan the window
now, thieves in bloody stroke, betwixt the time
went forward to an evenings, morning dawn, when
day was borne from the base. This bed thy center.
Eighty-ninth Stanza
Who sang when lost: at last, being do not blow
o’er, nor death? Tis well—but, artists! Each produces—
You. Time draws near that is misunderstand,
the silver mixed to habit; and, soon coming
all, whom Fame commends: when anxious to be Nature,
let me measure and ne’er woman’s forced
everything did appear before I shall speak or
shriek, and weep each other dies. He died at a’?
Ninetieth Stanza
Yours was an extra holiday, with long ere
that lie remote from this life too late, for soon
or late Love were riding the twilight so in
the vision each respected some amorous
rites are banquets, Doric music, midnight we
know; but if that drew the long day: but euer lite.
Something so fair, till she for what wasn’t stuffed in
a cold climate and next proceed, I feel whole.
Ninety-first Stanza
So beauty, farre away, away children and
women are won when the face so liuely to
the air that is concealed leander, being
weak, her pass’d since I her did see, vertue of these
not only the sea, playing triumphant prize.
Misfortunes of a certain thy care, plants of
reasonable, so unmov’d, they are religious
meat is all hap-hazard of their wilinesse.
Ninety-second Stanza
He gave it not. Where I lie, and cold; that just
once and heaven raining gilt from heaths starr’d with
my lines to frame, and dearest could be gone. Not
soon, as late as the silver bell? And swore he
is trying to trail a long subdued, this mind with
all the hill: tho may we talk to each lifted,
it is snooded sae dear. These arms and knees like
vibrations were life advancing, life alone.
Ninety-third Stanza
Lest unawares I bleede. The tense and fair, but
that you both will sag towards your bed will I be,
and went by murmuring Liberty’s wide world
except for but a precarious virtues,
painters can you turn and Ops began, as is
the golden reign. Let the countenance, threatening
a voice did not climbs the marble’s unchanged: in
a cave; and their birth or growth, is more than grace.
Ninety-fourth Stanza
Fastened like other gasping for breakfast; private
place were in humble kind. And down her purple
schools, and we lie near each other sweetnesse,
loue, while what way, to see the gray mornings did
an Evil Cloud rain Sorrow which the caper
overrooted, by some ships have I bore it;
friends like a Body from whose earliest beams,
so reverend love and many a Manichean.
Ninety-fifth Stanza
To Dudu juan was floor’d, and tears, of firm and
the long blink is a shift, joy reappears, if
tis she. Though for sigh, I can’t know this harmed then
sending so fair; therefore cannot move, why should
have a handsome paramour their image is
black and yre, where kingly Neptune felt. While my
hairs, and her mouth will you all; let him in by
shutting. And aged Saturn in careless curl.
Ninety-sixth Stanza
But vainly for the long-clothes on in the night.
Of weed that best I wish it may chance. Whilst that
you to grace my grief. Not of thee, when joyous
tears, and look upon the man they shook them thus
eased be, at her worst fear I would like the soft
Sybarite’s, who is leaving wave, touch’d. Matter
to a woman’s force and apt to beare:
whatever lets the hermitage; you, to whom love?
Ninety-seventh Stanza
Towards the night we slept in one hand, as she roses
one time draws near that I know it, and each
drop they speak, ev’n superstition loses ev’ry
fear: for their longing hue, and knock on my
door of individual life, for to what
good gods love just and on flowery Spring
again, even to the court to scour his to
me-to thee thine. So subjects of purity.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 7#187 texts#rispetto sequence
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Seong Gi-hun | As the world caves in
Prompt: It is the night before the finale and despite your shared grief, Gi-hun asks you a very important question. You offer all you can give, and share a passionate night of uncertainty whilst you still can.
Pairing: Seong Gi-hun X Female Reader
Word count: 3.8K
Tags: Graphic depictions of death, lots of angst
Spoilers: Episode 1-8
Note: Once again, I have not proofread what I wrote because I'm very tired right now. Go easy on me when you find spelling errors, I'll correct them later when I find the time to do so :)
MINORS DNI
There was a steady tapping of Sang-woo’s foot against the tiles that echoed through the room and caused annoyance to grow inside your chest. Slumped against her bed sat Sae-byeok, unwell, sweat beading on her forehead, her lips sickly pale and chapped.
You dabbed a wet piece of toilet paper against her face, the thin material falling apart under your touch, but it was all you could work with right now. All you could do was make her as comfortable as possible, the crimson stain that seeped into the mattress only growing larger.
Looking up, your gaze met Gi-hun’s, who looked at your mutual friend with concern, grief already tugging at your heart even though she was still here. He gave you a wry smile, tight-lipped, hair messily sticking in the air. It gave him a boyish look, and you smiled back, a shaky sigh leaving your lips.
“(Y/n),” Sae-byeok croaked, a weak hand wrapping around your wrist, her blood smearing all over it. You didn’t mind it, for you were soaked in it anyways, and leaned forward so that you could hear her properly. “(Y/n), don’t go.”
Tears blurred your vision and you shook your head, giving her a reassuring smile. “I am not going anywhere.”
She, however, was. You had seen people die before, especially in the past weeks, but those deaths had been sudden and with little time to see the process. Your friend was slipping away slowly, her life drained from her once lively eyes gradually, a painful wheeze in her lungs making for an unpleasant sound. This was different from seeing all the others go - this was gut-wrenching.
Her fingers tightened for a few moments, her gaze containing fear, hurt, and a sliver of hope. “Thank you,” she muttered, making you swallow away the lump in your throat, “Thank you for being my friend through this all.”
For a second, you gazed over your shoulder to beckon over Gi-hun, who had been meekly watching the scene unfold in front of him, unsure of how to help out. It was a done deal, anyways, you had whispered in his ear upon finding Sae-byeok fatally wounded in the bathroom earlier. The scent of death already hung in the air, and it stood behind the thick metal doors, patiently awaiting the very moment Sae-byeok would exhale for the final time.
“Mister,” she told Gi-hun, voice feeble and almost too quiet to be heard. “You better look after your lady, you hear me?”
Gi-hun let out a pained noise, but could not find the right words. “Promise me you’ll look after (Y/n). Get her out of here, like you had been planning for.”
Your eyes shot towards your lover, whose gaze was fixated upon your dying friend. “I wish I had been here to see it.” Sae-byeok said with a tease of a smile, “Oh, it hurts. My goodness, it hurts.”
You took a deep breath, blinking at her. “See what?” you quizzed, “Wishing to see what?”
Sae-byeok seemed to beam for a second, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’ll find out, (Y/n).” Tears suddenly spilled from her eyes and slid over her damaged cheeks. You couldn't keep your face dry, either, a dry sob leaving your throat.
Pressing your trembling lips against her clammy forehead, your shoulders began to shake. “Sae-byeok, no…”
Gi-hun’s hands rested on your back in an attempt to comfort you, but the woman’s grip on you soon faded. “(Y/n), it’s okay.”
You shook your head, wrapping your arms around Sae-byeok’s body as the final life slipped from her. “No, it’s not okay!”
“Player 67, eliminated.” The voice echoed through the room, and Sang-woo’s tapping halted momentarily. The cry that left your lips chilled Gi-hun to the bone, and the obnoxious chime of more won being added to the piggy bank in the ceiling caused your throat to screw shut with anguish. Wailing against her chest, you ignored Gi-hun’s hand on your shoulder which was attempting to pull you off.
“(Y/n), please, I don’t want to see you hurt, either.”
With bloodshot eyes, you looked up upon roughly being yanked away from Sae-byeok, a masked guard appearing in your field of view. Your first instinct was to throw a punch into his gut, but you knew it would only lead to more trouble, and so, you let yourself be pulled against Gi-hun’s familiar chest, burying your face against it.
They lifted her up, carrying her to the black coffin before putting her inside, closing it off with one of those disgustingly mocking lids, as if the pink bow on top was supposed to ease the pain.
You were inconsolable.
Gi-hun gave Sang-woo a look of worry, but the man in question did not share the concern.
“Come on, (Y/n),” Gi-hun whispered into your hair, “Let’s clean you up a bit.”
The guards, at least, did not give you any problems in allowing you into the bathroom together. The sickly pastel walls made your eyes sting.
You snapped out of your daze once you heard the tap running, cold water hitting your wrists, washing off what little keepsake you owned of Sae-byeok. Perhaps the blood under your nails should remain where it was as a reminder of how her death should not be in vain.
Looking up, you found your own reflection in the mirror. Dark circles had appeared under your sullen eyes, and Gi-hun caught your gaze, his eyes softening in worry.
“(Y/n), come on, let’s get this off of you.” He slipped a warm and familiar hand under your bloodstained dress shirt and helped you take it off, the damp fabric clinging to your skin upon the removal.
Gi-hun had seen you naked before, and so you found no embarrassment in his efforts to wash you. He was gentle, his touch bringing a sense of serenity to you, amongst the painful dread of your impending doom breathing down your neck.
“Gi-hun.” you whispered, causing him to look up at you. Your lips trembled before you responded. “Sae-byeok mentioned something to me. What was she talking about?”
You didn’t have long anymore, and you needed to know. This night was going to be the last one together either way.
Something akin to a blush appeared on his cheeks regardless of how grief-stricken his face was, and he gave you a small smile, tucking some hair behind your ear to get a better look of your eyes.
“Let’s get you into something clean first.”
You stared at the blood washing away into the sink. Even the little bit beneath your nails disappeared.
“Gi-hun.” you said his name again, blinking slowly. “Gi-hun, speak to me. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
His gaze snapped up to yours, and his eyes widened, lips parting in dismay. “Oh, I… Uh… (Y/n), I need…” he swallowed thickly, stumbling over his words, “I need you to know something.”
He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and took out something - a keychain. No, something that once resembled it. It was taken apart and forced to appear smaller, only the metal ring remaining.
“I found this on the floor.” he said, almost too shy to look up at you, “I tried to make it look more like a ring… I know it’s not what you deserve. I know that I am not half the man you deserve, but I wanted to give it to you regardless.”
The ring that sat once on the keychain laid in his palm, and it was jagged around the edges, like it had been forced around a small cylinder-shaped object, perhaps one of the lead pipes in the bathrooms. “Sae-byeok helped me make it. Reckoned she knew better on how large your finger was, I uh…” He paused, looking up to you, “It’s not a real ring, but… I wanted… Want you to marry me.”
Tears sprung into your vision once more, your knees feeling weak. “Oh, Gi-hun, I’m… I don’t know what to say!”
He swallowed, looking like a young puppy that had been scolded by its owner. “So you don’t like it, then? I can understand, I’d also--”
You lunged yourself forward, shutting him up with a firm yet chaste kiss. “Gi-hun,” you muttered upon pulling back after a few seconds of liplock. “It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. Yes, I want to marry you too.”
A sheepish grin spread over his features and he exhaled shakily in relief, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears. “Really?” he breathed, to which you nodded.
“Yes,” you whispered, “Oh, Gi-hun, I’m scared and I’m heartbroken, but I love you.”
The words had left your lips before you could even comprehend it.
Gi-hun stared at you, jaw agape, star-struck by the way you were beaming at him right after you had said those three words he had been longing to hear. “I love you too.” he muttered, stepping closer, hastily shoving the jagged key ring around your finger. It barely fit and scraped your skin, but you couldn’t care less.
It looked beautiful on you, Gi-hun noted, and tucked some hair away from your face, looking at you with a smile that said a thousand words. His eyes were watery, as were yours, and you blinked away the tears that began to build.
“I love you, Gi-hun.”
Kissing him deeply, you snaked your tongue into his mouth with no time to waste, pouring all the emotion you felt into it. There was an edge of desperation in the action, your hands coming to rest on his waist, pulling him into you.
He let out a sound between a whimper and a sigh, afraid that you would slip through his fingers once he released you. You pushed his suit jacket on the floor, the once crisp white shirt stained with blood. Your vigour calmed, grief screwing your throat shut.
Gi-hun rapidly took it off, but your sadness did not fade. “Where will we be at this same time, tomorrow?” you whispered, “If this is our final night together…”
He cupped your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. His eyes roamed over your face, searching for the right things to say. What was there to say? There was nothing that could make it better, no promises to whisper against your temple, no dream of a future together.
“(Y/n), look at me.” Gi-hun sighed, voice trembling, “If this is our final night together, then I want to spend every second of it with you.”
You swallowed thickly, watching him with widened eyes. One of your hands went to cover his still on your cheek, and he closed the gap between you, claiming your mouth as his.
Gi-hun dared to slip his tongue past your lips, tasting you deeply, relishing in the flavour of you. He felt the misery in your movements. Your hands went to his bare chest, palms clammy and inexplicably cold. He wondered what you were thinking.
Pinning you against the sink, Gi-hun allowed you to loll your face to the side, pressing his teeth against your neck instead. He sucked firmly, not caring if he’d leave any marks. A whimper left your throat, your fingers tangling into his hair, coaxing at the back of his head. Your lover - now fiancé - pulled one leg over his hip, pressing his pelvis against you.
The familiar swell was there, and you palmed him through his slacks, feeling him twitch with want. He smiled, letting out a sound against your skin, sending vibrations of pleasure down your spine, shooting straight to your core.
Tonight, you needed each other more than ever. Every touch, every flutter of fingers on skin, every time your gaze crossed his, there was a hint of sorrow. The bags under your eyes, the injury on his cheekbone which you had so lovingly kissed earlier right before dinner, the telltale signs of exhaustion that seeped through your veins.
When his tongue slid over your throat towards the spot between your breasts, you threw back your head and bit your bottom lip lest you let your anguish get the better of you. His warmth was intimately welcome, and so you let him slip off your bra, nipples hardening in the cool air of the restroom.
“Gi-hun,” you breathed when his mouth roamed over one of the sensitive buds, dark eyes looking up at you with lust-blown pupils. He licked it gently, your breathing becoming ragged against him, and you inhaled sharply at the feel. Gi-hun switched sides, nipple becoming slick with his saliva, and you wished for this sight to never leave your mind ever again. “Please, I need you.”
His eyes fluttered albeit for a second, tears brimming when he heard your despair. “I need you so bad.” you repeated, which he took as the sign to sink down on his knees. He pressed his face against your thigh, pulling aside your knickers, exposing your wet pussy to his loving eye. You wanted to be seen by nobody else ever again.
Mouthing at your folds, he sucked them against his tongue - slowly, gently - and you felt your chest tighten with pleasure. You put your hand over your mouth to prevent your moan from spilling, but what would it matter if it did? The guards knew what was going on in here, otherwise they would have knocked on the door already.
“Never in my decades on this Earth,” Gi-hun mused against your soaked flesh, lapping at your slit like a starving man, “Have I ever tasted anything as exquisite as your arousal, (Y/n).”
You could not suppress the smile at his cheesy remark, and you chewed your bottom lip when he tongued your clit, sucking gently on the swollen bundle of nerves. “Oh, Gi-hun,” you murmured, “Gi-hun…”
His name was all you knew, and you shivered, goosebumps appearing on your skin. “Gi-hun, please…”
He stood, sensing your orgasm creeping up on you. The whimper got stuck in your throat, for you knew that he wasn’t done with you yet. Gi-hun kissed you deeply, making you taste yourself, and you moaned into his mouth, undoing his trousers with practised ease. His length was fully erect, the slit wet with precum, your hand closing around his cock to jerk him off a few times.
Gi-hun sighed against your lips, eyes opening slightly to watch your face. The sight of you kissing him alongside the feeling of your fingers caressing his cock made him grunt in pleasure. In turn, the sound caused you to move towards him out of instinct. Right away, you dropped onto the floor, pressing open mouthed kisses over his base.
He gritted his teeth, throwing back his head in pleasure. With a shivering exhale, he laced one hand through your hair, letting you lick and suck all over his glistening erection. He tasted wonderful, and you took your time to suckle on his testicles, enjoying the sounds that left his lungs. Gi-hun was never quiet when it came to sex, and in the heat of this very moment, he let out a delicious moan.
You felt your stomach clench, pure need coursing through you. Humming around him, you closed your eyes, sucking him against your tongue. You released his cock from your grip, allowing it to rest against your face, feeling the weight of it twitch whilst you mouthed at his testicles.
“Oh, shit, (Y/n),” Gi-hun moaned, “You’re so beautiful.”
You blinked away the sudden tears blurring your vision, letting him go, rising to your feet but not before pressing a lingering kiss against the head of his cock, tasting him on your lips.
“I want you inside of me.” you whispered when his hands came to rest on your bare waist, and he pushed you backwards against the sink. You bumped into it, his body taking the spot in between your legs, porcelain of the sink dangerously creaking.
“Against the wall, baby, against the wall.” you told him, but he didn’t seem to hear you, too occupied with pressing his face against your neck. His mop of dark hair tickled you and you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek, gasping when you felt his heat press against your entrance.
He bottomed out swiftly, groaning at the familiar feel of your walls clenching around him. His erection swelled inside you and you sighed deeply, bracing yourself against his chest whilst he stretched you. No matter how often you had sex before, he felt closer than ever, stars already speckling your vision as well as the burn of unshed tears.
Gi-hun felt marvellous inside of you. Almost too good. It was unfair. He leaned in, kissing you, his tongue finding yours in an all-consuming kiss.
His hips moved, slow thrusts landing against your pelvis. Pleasure. Salt.
In the sweetness of the kiss, a few tears disrupted the flavour. Gi-hun pulled back in puzzlement, his heart clenching in his chest upon witnessing your wet cheeks.
“My dear (Y/n), oh, my honey bun.”
Under any other circumstances, you would have beamed at the nickname. Now, it only made your heartache worse. You cupped his chin, holding it tightly between your hands.
He was beautiful.
“Look at me while you take me.” you whispered, “Please, don’t look away.”
His brow furrowed, albeit for a moment. “Of course.” he said, slowly moving in and out of you, your slick causing him to speed up eventually.
You completed him, he realised, taking one of your hands into his, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. His other rested on your waist, making sure you were secure against the sink. The light didn’t make it for a romantic environment, but it didn’t matter. You and him were the only people left in this universe, now.
Tears damaged your cheeks as your eyes grew red. A mixture of pleasure and sorrow made for a bittersweet knot in your stomach. You weren’t far off, but you didn’t want this moment to end.
Being one with Gi-hun was what made you long for him even more. The world would be different in hours to come, and you just wanted to close your eyes and never wake up again.
You’d go through anything if it meant not losing him. In this very moment, you realised how deep your love for him ran. It was expressed through salty tears and a trembling lip. You didn’t dare to look away, afraid that he might fade in front of your very eyes.
“(Y/n)?” Gi-hun quizzed, still fucking into you, unsure if what he was doing was right. You began to nod, pressing your forehead to his.
“Yes, Gi-hun. I’m here. I’m yours.”
“Forever and always.” he whispered, and you let out a hum that sounded more like a cry, a pained sound that shook your lover to the bone.
“I need you so bad.” you muttered, feeling yourself clench around him. It was difficult to fight against your own high, and something you had never expected yourself to do so. He was perfect, fit inside of you like you were made for each other, and the sight of his adoring gaze was enough to pull you over that edge.
You cried when you came, but no sound left your lips. Your toes and fingers felt funny at the sensation, your walls clenching around his length, instinctively claiming him to stay inside. It was intense and heart-shattering.
Suddenly, Gi-hun was crying too.
You were the most ethereal being on Earth. He had already died and you were an angel. He cupped your face and kissed you, open-eyed, an almost awkward exchange of love. He could not afford to look away, not even when his orgasm washed over him, pulses of sperm shooting inside of you, deeply planting itself near your cervix.
He panted, sweat leaking down his chest and torso. Staring at each other, you remained like that for minutes, eventually catching your breath, and his once erect cock began to shrink inside of you, causing you to flinch upon removal. The spot between your legs grew cold rapidly, and what remained of his cum leaked down your thighs soon enough.
“Oh, Gi-hun.” you muttered with trembling lips, your legs feeling weak in a negative way for once, “Gi-hun, I love you so much.”
His eyes fluttered shut, tears spilling from the corners when the cold of the bathroom surrounded him. “I love you too, my (Y/n)...” he whispered gently, followed by minutes of silence. You stood in each other’s presence, vulnerable and naked in one another’s arms, your eyes staring at each other’s souls.
The makeshift ring sat uncomfortably around your finger when you brought your hand to rest on his cheek, but you felt closer to Gi-hun than ever before.
“We’re with only three people left,” said he all of a sudden, breaking the silence. “We could vote to quit these damned Games.”
You slowly blinked, tears still leaking over your face. “Oh, Gi-hun, and what about their deaths? The old man, Sae-byeok, Ali? Should they be in vain for the sake of our love? If we quit now, nothing will have changed. Their deaths would have been for nothing. Are we truly that selfish?”
The little hope in his eyes saddened upon their mention, and he blinked slowly, his brow furrowing deeply. “Who says that there can be only one winner?” he muttered, “What if we can win together?”
You shook your head in disbelief, stroking his cheeks, fingers lingering at the small wound on his cheekbone. “Oh, Gi-hun, what I wouldn’t give for that to be possible.”
His hands came to rest on your elbows, and your bodies were growing cold in the afterglow of your intimacy. “We can always hope. We will not know until tomorrow. And before that time comes…”
You stepped into his arms, allowing him to embrace you tightly. Skin upon skin, you pretended that everything was alright, that you’d return home tomorrow, together.
“Before that time comes,” he clarified, “I want to be one with you.”
The guards had been respectful tonight, you noticed. Perhaps you had had enough grief for one day, though you had almost forgotten about your late friends passing on.
Gi-hun held you close, nearer than ever. You loved him more than life itself.
Home, you realised, was not the place where you would return to if tomorrow turned out to be in your favour.
Home would not be the place where you would return to if you chose to quit the Games.
Home, you felt more than ever before, was right here in front of you, surrounding you like a blanket of warmth and love, and no one in this world would ever be able to take him from you, no matter what tomorrow would bring.
#seong gi hun#squid game x reader#reader insert#gi-hun x reader#seong gihun x reader#squid game#squidgame#x reader#angst
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Mousie’s absolutely subjective, very biased Top 10 web novels list
Please note that this is hardly aiming to be objective, if one can even be properly objective about a work of fiction. It is 110% based on my preferences, which means this list is heavy on the angst and has nothing set in the modern day. It is also heavily danmei-centric, even though I read way more het romance than danmei, because for whatever reason, most of the danmei I’ve read has been insanely good.
10. Return of the Swallow - one of the two non-danmeis on this list. Smart and nuanced and with a large cast of characters. Our heroine is a long-lost daughter of the family that is brought back in and has to cope with familial struggles, crazy royals, court intrigue, invasion et al. It’s SO GOOD! There is romance with the sexy smart enemy general but honestly, it’s the heroine that is the main selling point for me.
9. Transmigrator Meets Reincarnator - the only other non-danmei novel on this list, this was my very first web novel and what drew me into this insanity. This is just a ton of fun, probably the lightest novel on this list, not an ounce of angst to be found. But it’s hilarious and features competent heroine and tsundere hero and I will always love it for opening a new world to me. Anyway, our heroine transmigrates into the novel as the female lead. Unlike the original lead though she doesn’t want to seek adventures and angst - she just wants to comfortably live with the wealthy, nice husband heroine has. Alas, said husband is no longer nice since he has previously lived this story where he was betrayed by FL and then transmigrated/reincarnated into the past. Oh well, the heroine opens up businesses and makes friends. And eventually, her husband realizes his wife is way different this time around. This actually doesn’t have much romance, not until close to the end, but this is so fun I don’t care.
8. Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)
7. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) - oh come on, how are you even on this tumblr if you don’t know MDZS/The Untamed? This was my very first danmei and it’s so much fun! I love everything about it - the unreliable narrator, the looping structure, the main OTP, Wei Wuxian’s laidback, traumatized insouciance, everything. Anyway, the plot in the event you somehow transported here from 2005 is that the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Wei Wuxian, was defeated by the righteous sects over a decade ago and fell of a cliff to his death. Only now that same Wei Wuxian opens his eyes in another body and everything that was supposed to stay in the past starts again.
6. Heaven Official’s Blessing (TGCF) - people either love its meandering narrative, picaresque structure and cast of thousands, or find it a detriment compared to much more compact MDZS. I love it even more than MDZS for those very qualities. It does have a rock-solid, darling OTP, but what really elevates it to me are the MXTX trademark combo of snarky/light tone hiding a ton of trauma underneath, the insanely intricate world-building, and what it has to say about the nature of grace and goodness. Xie Lian is one of my top 5 web novel characters and probably in top 10 from anywhere. Oh, and while MXTX’s stuff is not as angsty for me as Meatbun’s or even Priest’s, there are always exceptions, and there is one chapter in this novel that pretty much broke me and sometimes I still flashback to it and feel unwell.
Anyway, what is it about? There is a commotion in the heavenly realm - Xie Lian, the Crown Prince of a long-destroyed kingdom, has ascended to Godhood. That in itself is not so exciting. However for Xie Lian this is the third time (!!!!) as he’s ascended and lost his godhood twice prior. And now, the biggest joke of the divine realm is back, throwing the heavenly realm into chaos. And elsewhere, Hua Cheng, one of the four most powerful demons of that Universe, sits up and takes notice.
5. Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is also finding the middle path between their two very different philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”
4. Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.
3. To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant, sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two take up farming, get involved in the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.
2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.
1. The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.
Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!
The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.
#cnovel#2ha#yuwu#to rule in a turbulent world#lsww#sha po lang#golden stage#return of the swallow#transmigrator meets reincarnator#lord seventh#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#heaven official's blessing#the dumb husky and his white cat shizun
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The girls' bathroom | Victoria De Angelis
Requested: no
summary: y/n is on a night out with her friends when she starts to feel lonely and self-conscious. And then she meets a girl named Victoria in a tiny restroom of a rusty nightclub.
Okay so this one is personal cus I hate going to a night out thinking you're going to have fun and then ending up feeling like you're left out or 'the unwanted one'. I thought about writing this a while and I really hope someone can relate and find comfort in this the same way that I do.
Pairing: Victoria de angelis x reader (she/her, third person)
if you have wishes for any other pronouns whether it is to switch them in some fic or write a new one using specific pronounces let me know!
word count: 1.2k
content and warnings: lil spicy it is romantic, mentions of alcohol usage, low self-esteem talk, lil sad.
The music raged in a small nightclub the owners had named 'Beverly Hilla' for some odd reason Y/n couldn't really explain. She felt the bottoms of her shoes stick to the floor as some forgotten spilled drink had stained the dance floor.
The place was tiny for a nightclub. It wasn't really popular either but as for tonight, the place was overly filled with drunken people which made y/n feel a little overwhelmed.
"Anna?" Y/n called for her friend who had been dancing like a Wildrose for the past 20 minutes now.
"Hmm?" Her hymn shattered making the alcohol in her system and awfully clear.
"Maybe we should go take a seat for a while, I'm a little tired." Y/n exhaled.
"Yeah suree." Anna started to make her way to the bar stools, y/n quickly following after her. If she was honest, she was ready to go home but didn't want to leave her friend alone and she was sure she wasn't done yet.
The girls made their way to the couple of free bar stools that were next to a bar. (I know IRL finding two free bar stools in a tiny crowded bub would be a miracle but for the sake of the story, they found two free bar stools.)
"Are you going to order something?" Y/n asked but Anna had no time to answer when a young nice-looking man sat next to her.
"Hi girls." He smiled at them and soon locking his eyes with Anna.
"Hi, I'm Anna." Anna introduced herself to him, smiling and looking at him underneath her long lashes.
"Want a drink?" The guy asked Anna and she nodded.
Soon y/n realized she wasn't really involved or welcome in the conversation Anna and the guy had. She could see that Anna was clearly into him, he was clearly into her and she didn't want to third-wheel. She leaned away from them, studying her surroundings.
Nearly everyone was with someone, a friend, a lover. And if there was something that was lingering in her mind, it was the bitter-sweet question; why was she sitting here alone? If nothing else, she was a perfect individual for someone looking just a one night stand. She was alone and she was drunk, so why no one didn't come to talk to her?
Y/n had to admit that it was bothering her more than she liked. Not that she wanted a one night stand, not that she was looking for anything but it was just the fact how she felt forgotten, left out, and over anything left out.
She turned to look at her friend one last time, seeing her talking to the guy and she knew she wouldn't be her company and on top of that, the smell of the alcohol was making her feel unwell.
Y/n got up, not sure if Anna even noticed, and made her way to the restroom diving past the crowd of people dancing.
The public bathroom wasn't big, indeed in a way it almost felt claustrophobic with its crapped walls and tiny toilet stalls.
Y/n lifted her eyes to look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were slightly tired, makeup little off and her hair had gotten messy from all the dancing. But it wasn't even that. If she could have chosen, she would have the beauty queen. Maybe she'd liked to have different shaped eyes and different lips and maybe nicer hair and nicer jaw.
Suddenly she felt really aware of everything that she thought was wrong in her. A tiny tear run across her cheek as she heard the restroom door open. Y/n quickly wiped her tear and went to the sink to wash her hands.
Y/n heard steps as someone walked into the restroom but to her surprise, she also heard a full female voice spoke to her.
"Are you alright?" The stranger asked.
Y/n turned to look at her. The small light-haired girl was eyeing her up and down with her piercing eyes. She was really pretty and her hair rested perfectly on her shoulders.
"Yeah yeah I'm fine." Y/n nobbed her head, Hair messy hair falling over her own shoulder.
"You don't look really fine if I'm honest; you look quite sad." She quietly giggled a little bit. "I'm Victoria."
"I'm Y/n"
"So did you get lost from your mom or..?" Victoria gently joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Y/n chuckled a little bit to her, "No quite frankly I didn't this time." She tilted her head a little bit before continuing, "hmm, I just think I got lonely."
Victoria studied her a while, "Lonely?" She asked.
"Yeah like I got ditched by my friend who found a better company." Y/n chucked again
"Ohh, well we here now aren't we?" She smiled at y/n and then there was a moment of silence.
Y/n couldn't help but have her eyes glued to Victoria. There was something really comforting, safe and lovely about her. In many ways, she felt like the most unreplaceable person in this world. And she was stunning.
"You look really pretty." It escaped from y/n's lips by an accident.
"Aww, thank you." Victoria turned to look at her, "You too."
Y/n thought about it a while, "Don't think I am." She shook her head before turning back to the mirror.
"What?" Victoria sounded slightly surprised. At the end of the day, Y/n wasn't really good at taking compliments and she knew it herself.
"Just don't feel like I look even somewhat nice." Y/n shrugged her shoulders. It was probably the alcohol that was making her being so open about her self-image issues.
"Well listen.." Victoria took a step closer to her. "You'll never see yourself in the same way others see you and just because you think that doesn't mean it's right. I mean you don't have a say in who I think is beautiful" She smiled at her and y/n's eyes fell to her lips.
What came as a little surprise to y/n, Victoria lifted her hand to lightly touch her cheek and gently pushed her against the stall door.
"Can I kiss you?" Victoria lowly whispered, locking her eyes at Y/n's lips.
"I mean please," Y/n whispered back to her and leaned a little bit closer for her to gently press her lips against her own.
y/n could taste the liquor of Victoria's tongue and she probably could do the same off of hers but it didn't matter at that point when her red burning lips were dancing with hers.
After a while, Victoria pulled away. A blush rose to Y/n's face when she looked at her not wanting to let go of her.
Victoria reached her hand to take y/n's hand into her own and pulled y/n off from the stall door, "Come, Let's go get Pizza. I'm hungry and done with this nightclub anyways." She said flashing a smirk to Y/n.
"Okey." Y/n giggled as she followed Victoria out of the restroom still holding her hand.
#måneskin fanfic#victoria de angelis#victoria de angelis fanfic#victoria de angelis x reader#one shot#fanfic#victoria de angelis x y/n#x reader#måneskin
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How the brothers would react to catching f!MC riding a suction-cupped dildo on the communal HOL washing machine
I didn't think through how much I hate this idea, but I fuckin ran with it so here we are and I'm not apologizing. However the title is still a work in progress. I am accepting ideas.
This first one is Lucifer's reaction.
Warnings: little bit of blood (in a sexy way), he calls MC some vulgar names >:( but he apologizes so I guess it's okay, fem!MC because I was feeling self-indulgent.
Rating: explicit 😌
Word count (so far): 2,628
Carrying the weight of the hamper on her hip, MC closed the laundry room for behind her and padded over to the oversized washing machine. It was laundry day for her and living in a mansion with seven demon brothers didn't make this any easier. Their keen sense of smell had her on edge about keeping certain articles of clothing cleaner, washing them more frequently than when she lived in the human world.
She threw in her load of pajamas, towels, and underwear, including the pair she had been currently wearing, leaving her in an oversized shirt she'd "borrowed" from Beel. MC mixed in the detergent and fabric softener, and started the cycle. As the hot water started pouring into the bin, MC double-checked that the door was closed before pulling out the suction-cup dildo she'd hidden in the laundry bin and stuck it to the top of the washer. MC nudged the step stool closer to the machine, applied a generous amount of lube to the toy, clambered on top of the washer, and positioned herself over the dildo.
Thanks to previous instances in the laundry room, MC was fully aware of both the machine's durability to hold her weight comfortably, and its vigorous shaking when loads were unbalanced. Asmo had winked at her when she came running to him for help for taming the large appliance. "You could say, with a bit of creativity, it'd be the next best thing to sitting on my face, hon."
He'd been right. Unfortunately, this also meant that Asmo knew what laundry day meant to MC and she already felt mortified sharing this dirty secret with Asmo so MC tried her best to schedule her trip to the laundry room for whenever he wasn't home. Luckily enough, it seemed the rest of the brothers were completely unaware of her sinful indulgence and this activity quickly became addicting.
Having already been wet from the excitement, MC's fingers slid into her, pumping and scissoring to stretch herself open. She pressed the tip of the toy against her opening, biting her lip to stifle the noises she wanted to make as her fingers moved to circle over her clit, squeezing her eyes shut as her hips lowered onto the toy. Taking a few moments to breathe from the size of the dildo filling her up, MC maneuvered her legs to shift from her kneeling position sitting on the machine, toy fully sheathed inside, her ass against the lid, and legs hanging over the top.
Her hands trembled from both the excitement and the warmth that stirred in her lower abdomen as she reached for her phone; the machine would be still for awhile as the clothes soaked, but MC loved to fantasize she was cock-warming any one of the brothers until they both gave in and he fucked her mercilessly.
Lazily circling her hips to feel the toy move around inside her, MC mindlessly nibbled on her thumb while flicking thru Devilgram. Scrolling down the feed, she stopped to watch a video Mammon had posted, the audio flowing through the DDD's speakers a teaser for an upcoming song he was releasing. Turning up the volume on her device, MC let the video repeat as she felt herself getting hyped for the track to release. After double-tapping to like the post and leaving an energetic comment, MC opened the music app on her DDD and shuffled the playlist she made of the brothers' songs to stream while she opened a game on her phone to complete the daily task while waiting for the washer cycle to start.
The above set-up will be the same for all the brothers. Below this point will be Lucifer's reaction.
Another prank from the Lucifer You S*ck team left the eldest with some ruffled feathers and an ever-growing coffee stain on his RAD uniform. A vein pulsed on his forehead as he sauntered to the laundry room.
What he wasn't expecting, however, was to hear MC singing along to Satan's song behind the laundry room door. The eldest brother hesitated, his grip tightening on the doorknob as he debated waiting for her laundry to finish but found his brows furrowing as she stopped singing, the machine started its spin cycle, and the faintest of moans floated through the door.
"What in Diavolo's name-" Lucifer opened the door to investigate but halted as he took in the scene before him. MC's eyes had widened, staring directly at Lucifer in a way that perfectly explained the human idiom "like a deer stuck in the headlights." Her mouth was agape but quickly snapped shut as she tried to stifle her panting, legs crossing themselves in an attempt to look innocent, but her white-knuckle grip on the edge of the washer had him feeling alarmed.
"MC, what's going on? Are you feeling unwell?" The machine had started rocking as it began its spin cycle, but Lucifer couldn't figure out why MC was sitting on top of the washer. Was she feeling ill? Her forehead had a sheen of sweat, did she have a fever? Lucifer dropped his clean uniform and crossed the room so he was directly infront of MC, reaching out to feel her heated face, completely disregarding her feeble attempts to assure him she was fine.
'Lucifer! I'm fine, just doing some laundry' was what she wanted to say. However, with the machine rocking, the dildo was rubbing right up against her g-spot and she was fighting the urge to grind her hips. She managed to sound out the first half of his name, but the way his gorgeous, ruby eyes looked into hers with concern, his facial features that were carved by God himself, and a single thrust against that spot had her shivering, finishing the rest of his name in a sultry moan.
The Avatar of Pride blinked as the cogs in his brain stuttered trying to piece together what was happening, his hand froze in mid-air as he had been reaching out to feel the temperature of her skin. The machine continued to rock and MC couldn't find the strength to pretend she wasn't riding a dildo on the communal washing machine and felt her control starting to slip. MC couldn't read the expression on his face and averted her gaze, trying to deny that him watching her like this was turning her on even more.
Seeing his hand stretched out, MC leaned forward the small distance to press her cheek against his palm, biting her lip as she stole a glance at the demon. His eyes remained transfixed, dazed, but he didn't pull his hand away and MC was feeling a little more daring than usual. Tilting her head, she pressed his thumb against her lip, her eyes flickering again to his own for barely half a second, and closed her lips around the tip of his thumb, running her tongue along the seam of the leather. His lack of response coaxed MC on to keep going. Her tongue drew the digit in further, lips gliding over the leather, the material fueling new fantasies she'd previously overlooked.
As the dildo continued its steady rocking, MC felt her control melting away and frustration slowly started to build. Why hadn't he moved? Surely it'd be better if the eldest had scoffed in disgust and turned away than to have him just staring at her like this. She swirled her tongue around his thumb, lips hollowing as she sucked, trying to illicit some sort of response from the demon.
However, he remanded unmoving. MC felt an array of emotions ranging from frustration, shame, embarrassment, anger, all mixed with the sexual desire raging thru her, MC felt tears prick her eyes. She released the thumb from between her lips with an audible pop and faced Lucifer with a snarl; which he found endearing and as threatening as the chihuahua.
"I don't do live performances. Either touch me or leave." MC made a show or grabbing her breast from under her shirt, letting the pleasure from the toy fill her senses and began grounding her hips against the toy as the spin cycle picked up speed. Getting ready to bark at him again, MC yelped as the shirt was torn open and a pair of hands gripped her hips keeping her still but the dildo continued moving with the machine.
"I didn't realize our little human was such a naughty slut. Really. Sticking a toy on our washing machine? Are you that desperate to be fucked?" Nails bit into her flesh as his voice called out her sins, all traces of her bravado gone, replaced with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame. MC tried hiding her face but he still saw the tears that threatened to spill over before crawl down her face and cooed.
"There's nothing to feel ashamed over, my dove. I apologize if I was too vulgar." Lucifer lifted her hips and she squirmed, not ready for him to see the full extent of the situation; the idea of the dildo coated in her juices waving about on top of the poor washing machine only intensified her embarrassment. However, before she could speak out, Lucifer dropped her hips causing her to slam herself back down on the toy. Stars erupted across her vision as the demon repeated the action, drinking in her reactions and felt his erection strain against his pants.
"This carnal desire is human nature. If anything, it's our own fault for not considering such a basic need." His fingers trailed along her neck, tapping against her pulse as if in thought. The hum of the washer broke through the moment and Lucifer clicked his tongue behind his teeth. He reached behind her to turn off the machine and lifted MC off the machine, and the dildo.
MC didn't get a chance to wince from the manhandling as her lips were immediately covered with his own and she felt him pulling her close to him, his hands urging her to wrap her legs around him. She couldn't match the fire he was pouring into her fast enough and he growled, simultaneously smacking her ass and grinding his erection against her folds. This new side of the prideful demon caught her off guard, but the smack brought her back with a fervor.
Her hands fumbled with the buttons on his collar and he kneaded where he spanked her, causing MC to mewl into the kiss. One of his hands moved up to hold the back of her neck as he walked to pin her against a wall. Her legs squeezed his hips tighter and he reached up to break open the collar of his shirt, shedding the clothing haphazardly somewhere else in the room. Meanwhile, MC moved to undo his pants, reaching into his trousers to palm his erection. Lucifer hissed and grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her stomach with one hand.
Releasing her lips, Lucifer latched onto her throat, biting down on the skin above her pulse and positioned himself at her entrance, hesitating for only a moment to allow her the chance to back out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she braced herself, kissing the side of his head, and granting him permission with a soft, "please." Her voice turned into a wanton cry as he pushed himself into her. His tongue lapped at her throat, sucking against her skin as a feeble distraction to keep himself from fucking her before she was ready but the way her body was receiving him was making the demon tremble.
"Lu, please, I need you to fuck me," all shyness and mortification was gone and all that remained was the sexual desire and a sense of urgency.
"Do you know what you're asking of me, my dear? Do not underestimate me."
"Lucifer, fuck me or else I will invoke our pact and make you-" the rest of MC's threat was lost, replaced by a sob as Lucifer's restraint snapped and began thrusting wildly into MC. It didn't take long for him to readjust his position, turning them away from the wall. With his hands on her hips, the eldest brother moved her against his thrusts, bouncing her on his cock and slamming back into her. His rhythm would change randomly between fast and shallow to deep thrusts where he'd pull out to the tip and snap his hips to fully sheath himself. He'd felt her muscles constrict around him a few times, keeping a tally of how many orgasms he pulled from her, but he wanted her to make a mess and to make a mess of her.
Bending MC backwards, he continued drilling into her as he held her hips in-front of him. Her voice cried out in a scream as he relentlessly thrusted against that spot and she felt a wave building.
"Lu s-st, wait, I'm, you're gonna make, h-hold on-"
"I know MC, it's okay. Let go."
With Lucifer's words of encouragement, MC felt herself relax, giving in to the impending wave that continued to build. Reaching out, her hands found a shelf to stabilize herself, her mouth open in a silent scream as the dam broke and ecstasy filled her senses. The way she clamped down on his cock had Lucifer's hips stuttering through his own orgasm, filling her with his seed quicker than he had intended; the intensity of her orgasm having coaxed his to follow suit.
As the fog cleared in his mind, Lucifer's fingers twitched and he noticed the array of bruises littering her hips. MC lifted her head to look up at him, but the rest of her body was limp. She smiled sheepishly causing Lucifer to roll his eyes but his lips turned to shape a playful smile and MC giggled as he pulled her up. They winced as he pulled out of her, but she kissed his cheek and he brushed his nose against hers, humming as they basked in their afterglow together.
Lucifer grabbed a blanket to wrap around them and turned to leave the laundry room when he caught sight of the glittery purple dildo still mounted to the lid of the washing machine. He snorted and walked over to it. Having curled into the demon, MC had to turn to see why he'd stopped walking and groaned.
"Don't you dare."
"Hmm?
"You're going to say something really condescending and I don't want to hear it." MC snuggled closer into Lucifer's chest, pulling the blanket over her head in protest.
"I don't know about 'condescending,' but-"
"Lucifer, don't you fuckin do it."
"This had to been Asmo's idea."
"..."
"It just reeks of desperation and wanting to get caught."
"Lucifer!"
"Now if you had been a good human, and come to me with your situation sooner, all of this could have been avoided. But now, there's a big mess to clean up." Having lived with the demon brothers long enough and sitting thru many a famous Lucifer lecture, MC could hear the smirk in his voice. In retaliation, MC pinched the Avatar of Pride's nipple earning her a grunt and a thump on the back of her head. She hissed like a cat from behind the blanket and Lucifer sighed from the absurdity of the whole thing.
"Do you want to go get cleaned up?"
"....yes."
"Do you need me to keep carrying you?"
"...yes."
"Then be a good girl and hold this." MC pulled the blanket away from her head, curiosity having piqued her interest, but groaned when Lucifer handed her the aforementioned dildo. "I don't want the others seeing this in case the room isn't cleaned up by the time they come back from their classes."
Damn him for making perfect, logical sense.
"Besides, I might want to use it on you later."
"...I hate you."
"I know."
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me lucifer#om lucifer#obey me f!mc#obey me female mc#om f!mc#om female mc#i don't want to hear anyone asking me why i didn't start with my husbando#listen linda#i couldn't figure out who i wanted to write with#and i kinda love how much i hate this idea#so i kinda want to write for all of their reactions#and i spent practically all day on this#thanks hyperfixation#OM lucifer thirst#the prideful firstborn#OM nsft#my writing no one asked for
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Hollow with 5?
Title: Comfort Nail (Sicktember Prompt 5)
Fandom: Hollow Knight
Characters: The Pure Vessel, The Pale King
Word Count: 858
AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33697723
Summary: Hollow has never been sick in their life. They search for comfort and find it into something very special.
(Author's note: This is obviously set into the world of Off Balance, because it wouldn't make much sense in the canon timeline. For anyone who hasn't read that fic, it is about PK abandoning the vessel plan and accepting Hollow as his child, searching for a different way to deal with the infection.)
@sicktember
It was the first time that Hollow had ever been sick.
Needless to say, they weren’t feeling well. Of course it wasn’t the first time they were in pain or feeling unwell. They were used to chip their shell from falling over all the time (though that didn’t happen a lot anymore), but that they could just fix by healing themselves with Soul. They also were used to getting cuts or lacerations in their void body, but Father could easily help them out with it, bandaging it or let them absorb more void. They even knew how it felt to throw up, what happened after they had drank Father’s coffee, but this had been one or two horrible hours and then it had been over.
They hadn’t felt like they were melting, their normally ice cold body having a far higher temperature than normally. In fact, they had started to melt for real, first their shapeshifted fingers had vanished and then their arm was dripping, staining the floor with void and that was the moment when Father had known that something was amiss.
He had stabilized them as best as he could with void and helped them into bed, even providing a bucket to melt into, if it should happen anew. He then had told them that they had contracted an illness and murmured that he needed to do some research and had vanished, leaving them alone.
With them not being able to sign or write, they hadn’t been able to tell him that they wanted for him to stay. They were scared. They didn’t understand what was happening to them. This was so much worse than an injury. They felt so hot and their whole body ached and they had trouble breathing. They felt like they needed to vomit, but it never happened. Their whole body was in a constant state of pain and there was nothing they could do against it.
Also, being stuck in bed with nothing to do, feeling too nauseous to even attempt to sleep, all they could do was think and they never liked when they thought too much. It reminded them of the time when they still were the Pure Vessel, trying their hardest not to think about anything.
As they laid there, body hot and in pain, not working properly and in danger of literally melting, their thoughts went to a scenario in which they had contained the Radiance. They wondered if containing the infection would feel like this. Would it be like being sick? Would they feel hot and would they ache? Would their body melt and be replaced by the orange chunks of infection? Would they have been forced to not think, never think, not giving her any ground to attack them?
The mere thought that this once was a very possible fate for them, one that they had accepted, even with their own free will, made them shudder despite their body feeling so warm. Worse even, the shuddering didn’t stop. How could they feel far too warm and freeze at the same time? That didn’t make any sense? If only Father would be here. They wanted for him to tell them that it would be alright, that they would be fine, they wanted to get their horns stroked by him, they didn’t want to be alone. They just wanted some comfort.
Even with them not being the Pure Vessel anymore, all these thoughts made them feel so incredibly selfish… they couldn’t force Father to be there for them just because they were a little sick. He had so much important work to do. They had to get through this on their own.
They turned around to face the wall and spotted their nail leaning against it. Not the new one that they had gotten during their first trip to the City of Tears, their old one. The small one. The nail they had wielded before they had grown.
Without thinking (for once) Hollow reached out for the nail and pulled it closer to their chest. Instantly, they felt calmer. Holding the nail made them feel safe and secure. Finally, the shuddering stopped and they felt how fatigue and exhaustion took over them.
When Pendry entered the room to check up on them, he found them peacefully asleep with their tiny, discarded nail in their arms. He knew that they still had it, but they normally didn’t carry it around with them anymore.
They looked so peaceful and a lot better than earlier, when they had literally melted, so he didn’t want to wake them. He sat down on the bed and stroked their horns. Hopefully their sickness wouldn’t be so bad. He had done a lot of research on how to heal a void creature that had contracted an illness. He never had to deal with that before.
“I am sorry I had to leave you alone, Hollow.”, he murmured, his gaze still on the nail. He wondered for a brief while why they were clutching it like a stuffed toy when realization hit him.
“That was the first item I ever gave to them…”
(Author's note: I kept Hollow's illness unspecified, but it was probably just a common bug flu. Because they are half void, their body does strange things when they are sick, so their symptoms aren't exactly common.
This was the second prompt I filled out for the sicktember, I hope you enjoyed it ^^)
#sicktember 2021#prompt: comfort item#hollow knight#fanfiction#the pure vessel#the pale king#sickfic#request fill#prompt fill#sick!hollow#vessel sickness is weird#set in the universe of Off Balance#littlewritesstuff
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for: @xanwritesx
who: wyatt + elias
au: the court of requiem
tis a rarity, making his sister cry.
upon his return to his abode, elias held no restraint upon his fury, though, he couldn’t tell which member of his family angered him more. benedikt, and the way he’d slipped into such a state that could so easily be prevented, or elena, who toyed and tempted fate far too closely for his liking. he would argue both should know more than better, and yet.
that is too much to ask.
with an intensity to his tone, elias had scolded his sister, driving home how disappointed he’d become. “we are sworn to care for him, elena. we promised in blood that should he change, he would be safe, and so would all who encountered him. and yet you torture him, and the boys. for what, might i ask? your amusement? your wicked games?”
elena shook her head, cowering behind the body of a changing benedikt, bloody tears trailing down her cheeks. “i meant only to —”
“no. i care not for you reasons. it has been a time since i have felt so disappointed by you, elena. this is beneath you. it saddens me to see you sink so far.”
elena didn’t linger long, fading within the shadow of which she came. he could still hear her sobs, a whisper to the sobs and growls of agony benedikt produced. understandably so, too, for benedikt knelt against his own will, trapped at the mercy of elias and his judgement. “i am certain you had your reasons,” elias tells benedikt, looming over the creature with disapproval. “you and i shall discuss as much, when you are able. for now...” he offers his wrist, releasing his hold on benedikt just enough for the beast to sink teeth deep into his veins. “for now... let us make you well again.”
a process that would take days.
and it’s where wyatt finds him; sat beside his bed in his abode at the court, benedikt laying upon the sheets wrapped head to toe in bandages that all blushed red. those around benedikt’s eyes were deep crimson, his cheeks stained with blackened blood. he lay still, chest rising and falling through uneven breaths, with what could be seen of his face still hollow. benedikt’s skin, so usually tanned and life like, appeared white and dull, like that of the dead. elias himself looked unwell, drained as he is of blood. the very ichor that kept benedikt healing, recovering and sated.
upon hearing wyatt enter the room, elias offers him nothing but a glance, wondering if he’d left his door open again, or if wyatt had seen fit to simply enter. he wouldn’t put it past the boy, either way.
“you need not hesitate,” elias tells him gently. “he can do you no harm in this state.”
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Colin Bridgerton Imagines - Champagne Problems
AN: Anonymous requested Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and Colin Bridgerton
(Want to request your own character and song inspired imagine? Send me an ask!!)
(Y/N) - Your/Name
(Y/L/N) - Your/Last/Name
Summary: Colin has been courting you since day of the social season but when it comes down to the hard decisions... you crack...
Pairing(s): Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,717
Warnings: None, Angst
“My mother will not stop asking whether you will be attending her birthday ball this Friday eve as if you haven’t already accepted the invitation.” Colin complained as you strolled along the riverside.
“Do you think she likes me?” You smiled up at the boy as you squeezed his arm lightly.
“Likes you? I think she’s trying very hard to refrain from inviting you to her weekly afternoon tea that are strictly for Bridgerton women... and Penelope, of course.” Colin proclaimed which only made you roll your eyes.
“I cannot imagine I am on Penelope Featherington level of acceptance just yet.” You stated.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Colin gasped, “A lady of the ton just rolled her eyes at a Bridgerton?”
You laughed and shook your head at the boy.
“Believe it or not, I have discovered that the Bridgerton boys are far less caring for proper lady behaviour than many may think.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Colin cocked his eyebrow at you.
“I am simply saying that you and your brothers don’t really care for all that is prim and proper behaviour.” You tried to explain.
“Ah yes, well, once you have grown up with Eloise nothing can shock you.” Colin teased his sister which made you whacked his arm lightly.
“You should not be so cruel about your dear sister. Eloise is great company.” You scolded him playfully.
“Hearing that is making me start to wonder whether I’ve been courting the right girl all along...” Colin frowned but you knew it was only banter. It didn't stop you from giving him another whack though.
“If you keep hitting me in public people will start to see and brand you as an unladylike brute.” Colin warned you as he winced down at you.
“I should think they’ll actually be wondering what on earth Colin Bridgerton could be saying that is forcing such a beautiful, sweet woman to hit him.” You quipped back.
Colin only laughed and shook his head again.
“I suppose this is a good moment to end our walk as I have to be meeting my brothers.” Colin halted in his step and faced you.
“Mustn't keep the viscount waiting.” You smirked back at the man.
“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night then?” Colin lifted your hand to his lips and placed a small kiss upon your covered knuckles.
“If you are fortunate I may make an appearance.” You quipped playfully. Colin already knew you wouldn’t want to upset Violet Bridgerton by not attending.
“Until then.” Colin bid adieu and then left you to see his brothers.
Your chaperone had been your lady’s maid who had been keeping a distance behind you two.
You rejoined with her before returning to your home.
Friday evening swiftly arrived and soon you were sat in your carriage with your mama on your way to the Bridgerton house.
“I wonder if he shall propose tonight.” Your Mama spoke up, drawing your attention away from the window and to her.
“Who?” You questioned.
“Don’t be daft! Mr Bridgerton, of course!” Your mother chuckled at your obliviousness.
“Colin?” You furrowed your eyebrows at her.
“It is his mother’s birthday ball after all! It is the perfect event to welcome a new family member.” Your mother explained.
“Yes but he wouldn’t want to take the evening away from his mothers celebrations.” You argued, a small ball of panic emerging in the pit of your stomach.
“Please (Y/n)! Everyone knows that the best gift a Bridgerton could give their mother is a fiancé and even more so a love match.” Your mother exclaimed with a patronising amusement.
You knew that Lady Whistledown had mentioned the possibility of a love match between you and Colin but it had only been a mere mention. Lady Whistledown very rarely spoke kindly about you and Colin otherwise.
“Oh! We’ve arrived!” Your mother’s voice and the slowing of the carriage brought you out of your head and back to the present.
You climbed out of the carriage and your mother was quick to get you inside the Bridgerton house.
“(Y/n)!” Eloise practically jumped on you when you entered the ballroom.
“Eloise.” You smiled at the girl as she took both of your hands.
“Have you seen Colin yet?” Eloise asked with an excitement that only made you nervous.
“Not yet, Eloise. I have only just arrived.” You smirked as Eloise realised she hadn't even given you a moment to wish her mother a happy birthday let alone see Colin.
“Well I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” Eloise turned to search the room.
“I think I'll go speak with your mother first, El.” You excused yourself from Colins younger sisters presence and made your way over to Violet Bridgerton.
“Thank you for the invite, Lady Bridgerton. I hope your family have spoiled you for your birthday today.” You embraced the older woman as she beamed a bright smile at you.
“Thank you, dear. And how many times must I insist you call me Violet!” She scolded you to which you just smiled.
“Have you seen Colin yet?” Violet asked, her eyes scanning around the room briefly before returning to your face.
“No, not yet. I expect he’s by the refreshment table.” You knew that Colin had the biggest appetite out of anyone in the ton by far.
“Yes, I expect so.” Violet laughed as she agreed. “I had to instruct my cook to double the quantity of food this year after Colin demolished half the refreshment table in ten minutes last year.”
“Talking about me again, Mother?” Colin’s voice arose from behind you which caused you to spin around.
“We were just wondering where you had gotten too.”” Violet informed her son as he bent down and kissed her cheek.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, Mother, I was actually making my way over here to ask Miss (Y/L/N) to dance.” Colin turned to you with bright smile that seemed to light up his whole face.
“Oh don’t worry about me, it’s not like it’s my birthday ball after all.” Violet was only teasing her son. Colin had rolled his eyes which resulted in a small slap on the arm from Violet.
You took Colin’s hand and let him guide you to the dance floor.
“You look absolutely beautiful.” Colin told you as his eyes ran over your dress.
“You seem to say that every time you see me.” You retorted.
“That’s because it’s true. Every time we meet you look beautiful.” Colin placed his hand on your waist as the band started up.
“Thank you.” You felt your cheeks tinge pink at the honesty of Colin’s compliment.
As the dance commenced, you let your eyes take in the room.
All the Bridgerton siblings were in attendance which wasn’t surprising considering it was Violets birthday. No, the unusual thing was that all the Bridgerton siblings had their eyes on you and Colin.
“What are you looking at?” Colin asked, “What could possibly be more interesting than me?”
“Nothing.” Your eyes shot back to him.
Colin noticed your face had drained of colour and you were looking rather unwell.
“Are you unwell? What’s wrong?” Colin’s eyebrows dropped in concern.
“Nothing’s wrong.” You responded just a tad too quickly for Colin to drop it.
“(Y/n)...” Colin frowned.
“I’m perfectly well. I assure you.” You steadied your breathing to seem more convincing.
“If you insist.” Colin had to give in.
You continued to dance but when you saw Colin start to appear a little nervous, you felt your stomach flip again.
“(Y/n).” Colin started, “I have been your dance partner since the very first ball of the season. I can tell when there’s something bothering you or something is on your mind and so you can most likely tell when something is on my mind too.”
You didn’t respond.
“I had to visit my brothers yesterday because I had an important question to ask them. I wanted their blessing and then swiftly after, I visited your father...”
You stopped dancing. Your heart was in your throat as Colin spoke.
“Colin...” Your voice came out all strangled.
“Please I have to say this, (Y/n).” Colin tightened his grip around your hands.
But before he could continue, you had pulled your hands from his and fled the dance floor.
Colin couldn’t even chase after you. He was in shock.
He looked over at Anthony and Benedict who both looked confused and concerned whilst muttering to each other.
Colin left the dance floor and made his way through the door you had disappeared through.
“(Y/n)!” Colin called after you as he caught a glimpse of your dress at the end of the corridor.
He chased you until you finally stopped in the garden.
Tears had stained your cheeks.
“(Y/n)?”Colin stepped towards you but you stepped back.
“Colin. Don’t.” You stopped him.
“I don’t understand.” Colin uttered, looking hurt and addled.
“Colin, I can’t marry you.” You were candid.
“What? Why?” Colin only seemed to grow more and more upset.
“I just can’t.” You shook your head completely unable to form words to explain how you were feeling in any sense.
“When did you decide this?” Colin beseeched.
“I don’t know! I just know I can’t marry you.” You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks.
“So what? You just let me chase you all these weeks?! Let me fall in love with you and then just decide you can’t marry me?!” Colin’s voice shook with anger and pain.
“It’s not that simple!” You disputed. “I didn’t think––”
“––No clearly you didn’t think! What did you expect was going to happen at the end of this social season? That we would just part ways until the next?!” Colin’s voice had risen to almost shouting which you weren’t doubting was attracting. attention.
“Colin.” A voice had said Colin’s name as you did.
It was Anthony’s voice.
Colin turned to see his older brother with a face of stone.
“Colin, go inside.” Anthony commanded to which Colin did with little argument (for once).
You frantically wiped your face with the back of your hand.
“I think it’s time you leave.” Anthony confronted you.
You agreed.
AN: I don’t usually write for Colin but I actually really enjoyed it despite the sad circumstance
#Colin Bridgerton#Colin Bridgerton imagines#Colin bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton#Anthony Bridgerton#Bridgerton#Bridgerton imagines#imagines#one shot#bridgerton brothers#violet Bridgerton
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Meg's Game of Tales: Tale
*familiar characters are NOT mine! Original Story of "Snow White" belongs to the Brothers Grimm!*
Warnings: Again, Darker tale!(The next one will be a bit lighter) Huntsman POV! Talk of murder and blood. There will be a second part after I finish all the tales!
Pairings: Huntsman!Ramsay Bolton x princess!reader
Jealousy was a funny thing. That was what was going through Ramsay's mind as he stood before this queen. She was a beauty, no doubt, but there was something twisted in her soul. Something mangled and decaying. Worse, he thought, than even himself. Still, gold was gold and life was life. She was offering him both for the job she was asking him to do.
It wasn't that Ramsay wanted to be a huntsman. Of course not. He had much loftier ambitions. However, first, he had to prove himself to his father. Besides that was the fact that he couldn't deny that he loved the hunt. The chase. It exhilarated him. It sent pleasant shivers through his entire being.
"Are we clear, Huntsman?" the queen asked, snapping Ramsay back to reality. He nodded once. "Yes. Yes. Take the princess out. Kill her. End of story." Ramsay turned to leave, but was stopped once more by the queen's voice. "Wait. To be sure you do not fail me, I want you to bring me her heart. In this." She had a guard hand over an ornately decorated box. Ramsay glanced down at the box and then back up to the queen. Oh yes, this woman was deranged. Even by Ramsay's standards. With another nod, Ramsay took his leave and went in search of you.
Finding you was easy enough. You'd been allowed out the castle from your daily duties long enough to pick some fresh wild flowers. Ramsay approached slowly as his mind searched for the best way to handle this. Should he go in and get it over with immediately? Or should he make it into a game? Once more, his thoughts were interrupted by another person's voice.
"Oh, hello. I've never seen you around the castle before." Innocent eyes looked up at him. That was all it took for Ramsay to understand why the queen was so jealous. Her beauty could never compare to yours. While her soul was twisted, yours seemed untouched. Your entire being screamed of naiveté and mischief while hers exploded with evil. It was that moment, that Ramsay's eyes met yours, that he knew he was going to draw this game out as long as possible.
With a charming smile, Ramsay bowed his head. "Princess," he greeted. "You know me?" Ramsay laughed and nodded. "Of course. The entire kingdom has heard tales of your beauty. And your kindness." You bit your lip as you glanced down at the ground. "T-Thank you, kind sir," you replied before looking back up at him again and continuing, "Is there something I can do for you? What brings you to the castle?"
"I've taken over for the old butcher. He is unwell. Old. I am the new supplier of meat for the castle," he answered, the lying escaping his mouth with ease, "And perhaps, you could be so kind as to show me the land? I haven't had time to explore it, I'm afraid." Your face lit up at the thought of exploration. "Of course. Shall we?" You held your bouquet of freshly picked flowers in one hand, while reaching out with your other to loop your arm through his.
Ramsay hardly listened to your idle chatter as you lead him through the castle grounds. It wasn't until you reached the border of the forest that you stopped. "Are you afraid, Princess?" You shook your head hesitantly. Ramsay grinned. "Perfect." He pulled his knife from his belt and held it against your cheek. He prided himself on quick and stealthy movements so you had absolutely no time to react or run. His other hand was wrapped around your arm, preventing you from running anyway.
You gazed up at him, your wide eyes full of tears. Even through your innocence, you knew what was happening. Ramsay watched a stray tear roll down your cheek and onto his blade with sickening satisfaction. "She sent you to kill me," you whispered. Ramsay's grin broadened. "Very good, Princess. However, this was far too easy. No fun in it at all. So, I'll make you a deal. Run away. Deep into the forest. I'll find a way to appease the queen for now to give you a few days. But then, I will come looking for you."
Your chin began to quiver as your whole body stiffened. "Why?" you squeaked out. Ramsay leaned closer and whispered in your ear. "It's a game and games should always be fun. But remember this: No matter how far you run, how well you hide, I am Ramsay Bolton and I will ALWAYS find you. Now go." Ramsay released your arm and practically shoved you into the forest.
You didn't wait a second longer before turned on your heel and racing into the thick trees of the forest. Ramsay picked up the bouquet you had dropped. He brought the flowers to his nose and sniffed then glanced back in the direction you ran with a devious smirk on his lips. "I will always find you," he whispered. Now, he had to see the queen.
"She got away?! I was informed that you were the best. How could you let her escape your grasp?!" the queen raged. Ramsay had to fight to remain calm. There were too many guards for him to lose his temper on the queen. "Never you worry, Your Majesty. If the wilderness doesn't kill her, I will find her. Before the end of winter, the snow will be stained with her blood. I assure you." The queen didn't look happy, but she agreed, just as Ramsay knew she would. With that, Ramsay left the throne room eager to start his little game.
(a/n: The Fowler's Fowl AU was originally supposed to be posted first, but this one hit my brain and wouldn't leave. As I said there will be a second part and the next tale should be a little more light-hearted!)
#meg's game of tales#game of thrones#fairytale au#snow white au#ramsay bolton#ramsay bolton x reader#ramsay x reader
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In This Here, Beautiful World (Part 2)
Fandoms: Team Fortress 2
Pairings: Medic X Heavy / Scout X Miss Pauling / Scout’s Ma X Spy / Soldier X Zhanna / Engineer X Original Character / Saxton Hale X Maggie
Warnings:
- Threats of Violence
- Violence
- Gore
Words: 1849
Summary: When the world goes to shit, in order to survive, you need to be ruthless, and you need to be prepared to do whatever it takes. When nine strangers and their families come together to fight back the zombie plague, tensions will rise between them all, threatening to pull them apart and kill them from the inside-out. It’s a shitty summary, I know. ^^
Enjoy!
The afternoon lecture had always been a slow trek to the day’s end. By this time, most students were far too exhausted and unmotivated to continue their work. Majority of them just wanted to return to their dorms or go out with friends; have some time to relax and recuperate from a long day of studying.
Mikhail didn’t often sympathise with his class, but the sluggish pace of the day had weighed him down over the hours. He felt just as tired as his class appeared to be, and beneath his eyes, he could feel the stress sinking his expression and morphing his voice to a deep mutter. He was thankful none of the class seemed to care, as it would have been an embarrassing moment of weakness.
He cleared his throat; only a few heads turning to pay attention.
‘Well, it seems the day has left us behind.’ A few of the students seemed sheepish, hiding their red faces behind their books or hands. ‘Perhaps, we will end this session early, and we can pick this up tomorrow.’ He offered the way out to his students with a tired smile.
Those that were awake, eagerly accepted.
Students hurried to gather their notes and books, tucking them away in their bags and beginning to dart with newfound energy to the exit. They offered Mikhail a hurried ‘thank you’ as they took off, or a wave if they were too lazy to speak.
The Russian stood up and rounded his own desk, heading up the line of pitched desks, beginning to awaken those that had crashed. A few leapt up, fuelled by the fear or worry of being scolded, but were relieved when he allowed them leave. Others took their time to awaken, dragging their whole weight out the door with his prompting.
It wasn’t long before the lecture hall was quiet and empty, save for Mikhail himself.
He had some paperwork he needed to complete, but he could just as easily take it home with him. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, the one that had ticked by at a snail’s pace for the last hour at least. The hour alone had felt like 12; glaringly cruel whenever one had sought comfort that the day’s end was approaching.
The time read 3:37pm.
He still had plenty of time before his engagement with a friend.
He pulled his phone out of his breast pocket; the electronic seemed frighteningly fragile in his hands. It reminded him of how his students had stared at him when they first attended his classes. His size, stature and gruff, accented voice seemed to intimidate most of them when they first met him. Many had stared at his hands in particular; scarred and calloused from Mikhail’s years of work and abuse.
Despite being a professor of literature, Mikhail seemed more the part of a hardened war veteran. It had been commented on many a time, mostly behind his back when they thought he couldn’t hear. Apparently, he scared people. Mikhail didn’t necessarily mind the thought, as being feared meant he had a modicum of respect from his students and fellow staff members.
He tapped carefully at the little buttons on his phone, watching as the screen was lit up with numbers. Finally, he pressed the call button and brought it to his ear. He waited.
One ring…
Two rings…
‘Misha!’ He felt the air in his lungs release with his relief. He was always scared of the potential that his mother or sisters would not answer the phone. Too much had happened in their family history that he was relieved when another day went by without hassle.
‘мама.’
‘It is so good to hear from you, and so soon!’ She seemed happy. That was good. ‘You don’t normally call until you are on your way home.’
‘да, well, I ended class early. Students too tired to continue.’
‘That is a shame.’ He could almost hear the pout from the other end of the line. ‘You are very smart, Misha, and I know how you love to discuss your passion.’
‘I am not upset, мама. Just frustrated. Day has been going on for far too long.’ He said, running two, thick fingers across his eyes. He could feel the dry tears in the corners of his eyes, and felt an itch as he attempted to rub the sleep away.
‘Hm… I can agree with that. Yana and Bronislava have been out all day and…’ She trailed off, his mother seemed hesitant to speak. He felt concern rise and clench deeply at his heart.
‘What happened?’
‘It’s Zhanna…’
‘Is she hurt?!’ He felt panic rising, not bothering to grab his classwork but making a move to the door so he might hurry home. Or to the hospital. Or to wherever his sister might be.
‘нет, she claims she is not hurt, my son. Not physically.’ He slowed a little, felt the panic lessening, but he kept moving. He didn’t bother to lock the lecture hall behind him, as he expected the janitors would notice in their nightly routine.
‘I’ll come home.’
‘нет. Misha… I don’t think she wants to see anyone right now.’ He stopped, and instead of worry, he felt fury beginning to boil his blood. He kept his voice low so he couldn’t be heard.
‘I will crush him.’
‘Ah, Misha, you know we cannot be doing that.’
‘He broke Zhanna’s heart.’ His eyes glanced about for any other sign of life. Apart from his own class, that he had released early, all other classrooms were still shut tight and not a soul was in the halls. ‘Little man will pay.’
‘да, he will. However, we cannot be the ones to make him pay. Zhanna loved him, and this is more than just him breaking it off with her. Mikhail…’
When she used his full name, it never meant anything good was going to be said next. He prepared himself, expecting to hear what he had heard before. The man Zhanna had taken an interest in thought her too loud, perhaps too overbearing. Maybe he was intimidated by a woman just as strong as he was and potentially taller too. Maybe an insult had been hurled her way; not uncommon but still unforgivable.
Zhanna had always been a hopeless romantic, and had sought out someone that suited her well. Instead, she tended to scare even the kindest men away, and Mikhail just didn’t understand it. She was beautiful, strong-willed and loyal to a fault.
‘She told me Peter had been feeling unwell. She had gone to see him, taking some borscht with her to liven him up.’ Always a good choice. ‘Oh Misha…’
‘What happened?’ He repeated again.
‘He hurt her… He attacked her, Misha.’
‘что?!’ He felt himself seething, clenching his free hand in rapid succession, as if squeezing an invisible stress toy. ‘He dare hurt sister?!’
‘He didn’t do much, but she came home with bruises on her arms. He even bit her hard on the hand when he grabbed her.’
CRUNCH!
He didn’t mean to break the phone in his grip, but how dare someone do something so cruel to Zhanna! She who wore her heart open, on her sleeve for all to see. She was a sensitive soul who didn’t deserve the cruelty that wicked men had lashed out with.
He didn’t have the time, or the ability, to call Dell and let him know their afternoon coffee was off. Dell knew not to worry if Mikhail was unable to come, the Texan always patient with the ups and downs the Garin family had faced over the years. He was a constant kindness in Mikhail’s life, always polite enough to just sit and listen when he could afford it.
Dell would have to wait.
He stormed quickly and with purpose through the halls towards the exit; those rare students and staff that he passed parted ways for him quickly when they noticed the oxen man move towards them. By the time he was in the parking lot, he nearly tore the door off the car itself, taking a seat within the tiny vehicle.
It creased his body and forced his spine into a hunched position. He filled up the front window almost comically, but the deathly glare in his eyes shut up any laughs from onlookers. He reversed, peeling out and into the middle of the lot, and then begun his drive home.
Through it all, the radio was tuned to the classical station; the fine sound of an orchestra helped to soothe his anger, but not deplete it entirely. The violins, by far his favourite of the instruments, almost massaged the pulsing, burning ache in his head with their lulling choir. It helped, if only a little, and if only for a short time.
As Mikhail continued his drive deeper and deeper into city streets, he started to notice an unusual hustle amongst the pedestrians. There was an unending ring of sirens as police cars and ambulances cut through the traffic, and officers attempted to redirect it down different streets.
Through it all, there was a sudden cacophony of gunshots, and screams ripped through the pedestrians as they took to the road. They hurried between the crawling automobiles, banging on windows and attempting to open doors in their haste to escape whatever was happening. One woman had latched onto Mikhail’s own car, a large, red gash across her cheek. Her lip was bleeding and her hands were scratching at his passenger door desperately, creating a fine line of white scratches across the metal.
He went to unlock the door, to allow her safety, when another person (man or woman, Mikhail couldn’t tell) half tackled her to the floor. He opened his own door, about to pull the figure off of her. That was, until they turned their head, revealing their chin and mouth stained with blood, teeth tight around a piece of flesh. The woman was still gasping, reaching out to him, eyes half-lidded as sleep threatened to take her.
‘Help…’ He could hardly hear her, especially after that creature suddenly turned on him. He leapt back, in time for the creature to miss planting its own teeth in his arm. He gripped the back of its head, large fingers tangled through its mess of hair, and planted its face to the concrete with as much force as he could muster. It was like a watermelon was crushed under his weight, as the head came apart with ease.
Blood ran down his hand and wrist. He looked down at the woman, who now laid there, unmoving. Beyond the traffic, a crowd had formed of people racing to escape the chaos. More gunshots. More screaming.
Mikhail didn’t return to his car. At the rate the traffic was moving, he wouldn’t be able to get out in time before more of those creatures came. He abandoned his vehicle, and turned to follow the road out of the city.
He had to get home.
And he had to get there soon!
#Team Fortress 2#TF2#TF2 Fanfiction#Heavy X Medic#Scout X Miss Pauling#Spy X Scout's Ma#Saxton Hale X Maggie#Engineer X OC#Soldier X Zhanna#Fanfiction#TF2 Fanfic#HarcourtHolmesII
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Gunham scenario. Nagito does some crazy bs to see how much Gundham loves you (already dating) and randomly tries to kill you in the dining hall, but Gundham protects you and ends up getting the stab wound instead. Nagito says something about hope about your love. So Gundham is on bed rest, but you have to watch over him and his Devas. His Devas a so sweet with you and help you take care of Gundham.
Oh HELL YEAH, ANGST! I freaking LOVE angst with a side of comfort! This prompt is awesome, thank you!
The Darkside of Hope-Gundham Tanaka x Reader
You awoke to Monokuma’s morning announcement still feeling exhausted. Teruteru’s trial yesterday had completely worn you out.
“Good morning, my love.”
A tired voice gained your attention, and you turned your head to see Gundham Tanaka, your boyfriend of about a year laying beside you. You smiled softly at him and kissed his forehead. “Good morning, Gundham.”
“Are you still feeling unwell from the ordeal of last night?” He questioned you as he sat up, his hair ruffled from his night’s sleep and not in it’s usual style. You giggled to yourself at that. You always thought he looked adorable with it down, and even cuter when he just woke up.
You nodded to his question. “The whole thing with Teruteru was so...sad. He wanted to help us and Nagito....” Gundham pulled you into his chest, and you smiled gratefully at him as you continued. “And...and he just wanted to know if his mom and diner were alright. It’s all just so...terrible.”
“I know my dearest Fallen Angel.” The breeder said softly. “Nothing of our situation is fair in the slightest.” He gently tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “But at least we have each other, yes?”
You nodded happily. “Yeah. I don’t know how I could handle this if I didn’t have you.”
“I understand. I, too, feel that way.” Gundham smiled gently and kissed your lips. “Thankfully we are not alone, nor will we ever be.”
You smiled warmly at that, before reluctantly pulling away. “We should probably make our way to the restaurant.” You said, standing from the bed.
Your lover sighed as he followed suit. “Yes, you are right. It would do no good to worry the mortals with our absence.”
You nodded. “Thank you for letting me stay in your cottage, Gundham.” You thanked him. “I really didn’t feel like being alone.”
“It is of no problem, my dark queen.” Gundham assured you with a smile. “I will do whatever I can to comfort you and keep you safe.”
Your chest fluttered when he said that. “You’re so sweet, my lord.” You replied, giggling softly when you saw him blush lightly. “I’m heading to my cottage to get ready. I’ll see you soon.” With a final goodbye, you left his room.
“Ah, so you were with Gundham.”
You jumped at the unexpected voice. You turned to see Nagito standing before you. You felt a wave of unease as you remembered his performance in the trial the previous night. “Y-yes, I was.” You confirmed. “Is that a problem?”
Nagito quickly shook his head, holding his hands up. “Oh, no no no! It’s not a problem at all! Quite the opposite in fact! I think it’s wonderful you and Gundham have each other to rely on. You’re quite fortunate to know each other prior to coming here.”
You furrowed you brow, not quite sure what Nagito was getting at. “Yeah...We were both really excited when we realized we were both accepted into Hope’s Peak.”
“And now you have each other to rely on for your hope!” The lucky student hugged himself, and the crazed look in his eyes returned. “How lucky.”
You began slowly walking past him. “Right...” You muttered, deciding to ignore him. But what he said next stopped you in your tracks.
“But...how can you be sure of his love for you?”
You blinked, and slowly turned back to look at him. “...What?”
Nagito gave you a crazed grin that sent a chill down your spine. “How can you be so sure your hope aligns with his? Perhaps his love for you is overpowered by his want for escape, and he is simply using it as a cover?”
Your eyes widened, and you took a step away from Nagito. “Wh...what?! No! Gundham would never do something like that! He loves me! I know he does!”
“But are you certain?” The boy asked, taking a step towards you. You took another one back, feeling a pang of fear in your chest. “Maybe after realizing the situation we are in, he began making his own plans. Maybe he has plans to kill you, using your relationship as an alibi.”
You clenched your fists and shook your head. “No! I said he wouldn’t do that!” You snapped, glaring at the white haired student. “You don’t know anything about Gundham! He would never hurt me!”
Nagito nodded. “You’re probably right. The Ultimate Y/T would know much more than trash like me, especially about her own boyfriend.” He walked past you, only stopping briefly to speak some final words. “Though, perhaps you should still keep what I said in mind.” And with that, he walked towards the hotel.
You watched him leave, and for a moment you took his words to heart, worry filling you. You quickly pushed all of that to the side. Gundham would never hurt you, let alone kill you. Nagito is just trying to manipulate you like he had Teruteru. With an annoyed sigh, you walked into your cottage to get ready.
~~~
You walked up the steps to the restaurant and immediately noticed Gundham sitting at a table off to the side. You also saw Nagito sitting alone in the corner. You met his gaze for a moment before walking over to your boyfriend and sitting across from him.
You smiled when he saw you. “Ah! There you are, my queen of darkness!” He greeted you, taking your hand in his. “You are looking radiant as always.”
You chuckled and shook your head. “Gundham, I look the same I always do.”
The breeder gave a small smirk. “And thus you always shine with the radiance of an angel.” He frowned slightly. “However I can tell worry taints your features. What is it that plagues you, my love?”
You bit your lip, your eyes darting over to where Nagito was seated. You noticed he wasn’t there anymore, and though that worried you, you ultimately didn’t pay it much mind. “It...it isn’t anything, Gundham.” You told him, attempting to give him a reassuring smile. “I just had a...run in with Nagito.”
Gundham narrowed his eyes. “What did that vermin say to you?” He growled lowly. “Did he attempt to control your mind as he had the chef?”
“I...I think so?” You answered before shaking your head and giving Gundham a soft smile. “But don’t worry. Really. I’m fine.”
Your boyfriend looked unsure, but he sighed. “If you insist, I shall drop it.” He said.
You smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Gundham.” You whispered. As you pulled away, you noticed something from the corner of your eye. You turned, and saw Nagito approach.
Gundham noticed too and glared at the lucky student. “And what business do you have with us?” He demanded.
“I know scum such as myself has no business interacting with either of you.” Nagito began. His eyes looked over at you, and you began feeling uneasy. “But something has been bothering me. I must check exactly how strong your hopes are.”
“What in the Nine Hells are you-”
Gundham didn’t get to finish his sentence before Nagito lunged. He held a knife as he ran straight at you. Your eyes widened, and you froze, unable to move. You saw some others in the room noticed, but were too far away to act.
Gundham, however, acted quickly, dashing in front of you right before Nagito made contact with you. Your lover let out a pained grunt and took a knee as a fleshy impact sound was heard.
“Gundham!” You exclaimed worriedly, rushing over in front of him as Nekomaru and Akane restrained Nagito.
“Ah, so I was wrong! Gundham’s love for you is his hope!” The crazed boy laughed as he was dragged away from you and Gundham. “It’s so strong he would risk himself! How beautiful!”
“S-shut up!” You called back to him as you knelt in front of Gundham. The knife stuck out of his stomach, and blood was staining his shirt. “M-Mikan! Mikan please come here! Hurry”
“C-coming!” The nurse exclaimed, rushing over to you and nearly tripping as she did so.
“I-I am fine, m-my fallen angel.” Gundham tried to assure you, though his pained expression did little to make you feel better. “It w-will take more than this to t-take down Gundham T-Tanaka!”
“S-shut up, Gundham.” You muttered, tears forming in your eyes. “Don’t be so proud right now. You have a fucking knife in you!”
“And I w-would take a thousand more if it meant you would remain safe.” Your boyfriend said firmly. “I will never allow you to be harmed, n-no matter what shall become of me.”
The tears began to fall. “Y-you can be such an idiot sometimes.” You murmured, clinging to his jacket. “You can’t just go and do something stupid like that! I don’t want you getting hurt either!”
“U-um, I-I’m so s-sorry to interrupt...” Mikan spoke up. “B-but Gundham n-needs to lie down. C-can someone h-help me take him t-to his cottage?”
“I can do that.” Hajime offered, stepping forward. He placed a hand on Gundham’s shoulder. “Can you walk, Gundham?”
~~~
It was some time later, and you sat in Gundham’s cottage. Mikan had done all she could and had ordered Gundham to bed rest. You told everyone you’d keep an eye on him. Currently he was asleep.
You just watched him as he slept, tears still staining your cheeks. You knew it wasn’t your fault. It was Nagito’s. He had tried to stab you unprovoked. But still...you couldn’t help but feel awful. Like it should have been you who got hurt.
You heard soft squeaking, and you looked over to see the Dark Devas on the ground looking up at you. You smiled softly and leaned down, placing your hands down for them to climb on. When they did you lifted them up to eye level. “Hey, little ones.” You said to them. “Gundham’s out of it right now. But....but he’ll be...”
You bit your lip. You wanted to reassure them he would be fine. Mikan had told you he’d be fine. But...but you were still scared. What if you lost him? You weren’t sure if you could go on. You couldn’t trust anyone else here.
You were broken out of your thoughts by the Devas nuzzling your cheek. You smiled softly down at them and pet them gently. “Thank you, little ones.” You said quietly. “Gundham has trained you extremely well.” You looked over to your boyfriend’s bed. “You’re all worried about him too, aren’t you?” You asked, then slowly stood, carrying the hamsters over. You lowered your hands and allowed them to crawl onto it. They carefully made their way over to Gundham and nuzzled him, Jum-P burrowing himself in the breeder’s scarf and quickly falling asleep,
You smiled softly as you watched your boyfriend and his beloved hamsters rest. You looked down at his middle and winced. The bandage around his stomach was already nearly completely soaked through with blood. You would have to change it when he woke up.
You clenched your fists as you thought about Nagito. Kazuichi had stopped by and informed you the crazed boy had been tied and thrown into the old building, so there was no chance of him hurting someone else. That helped you relax, but you were still overwhelmingly angry at him. He had done this to Gundham just to prove he really loved you? That wasn’t even any of his business! And what was that hope bullshit he kept going on about?
“Ngh...M-my love?”
Your gaze shot over to Gundham’s face at the soft mumblings, and you saw him blinking open his eyes. The breeder began attempting to pull himself up, and you ran over to his side to help him. After you got him into a sitting position, you smiled softly at him. “How did you sleep, Gundham? Do you feel alright?” You asked him.
“I slept quite well knowing I had you looking over me, my angel.” Your boyfriend replied, returning your smile. “As for how I am feeling...” He frowned and looked down at his stomach. “I must admit, I have felt better. This stinging reminds me of when I was bitten by a dreaded viper.”
You sighed. “I’m sure. I’m so sorry, Gundham. I wish there was more I could do to stop the pain.”
The breeder frowned and reached a hand up, cupping your face. “Cease that at once, my love. You have done all you can to heal me, and I owe you my life. This is not your fault, so do not apologize. Understood?”
You smiled softly and nodded. “Alright. If you say so, Gundham. I understand.”
He chuckled lightly and pulled your face down to kiss you. When he pulled away, he looked down to the Devas that were nuzzling his face happily. “Were my subordinates well behaved and helpful?” He asked you, scratching Cham-P behind his ear.
You giggled and nodded. “Yes, they were.” You told him. “They kept me calm when I was worried about you. And they kept you company while you slept.”
Gundham looked down to Jum-P still slumbering in his scarf and chuckled. “I can see that. Well, I am glad they assisted you, my queen.”
You smiled down at the little critters. “They were very helpful.” You looked away from them and over to Gundham’s wound, and your smile fell. “...I need to change your bandage.”
Your boyfriend followed your gaze and scowled. “It would appear so.” He muttered, then let out a sigh. “Very well. Let us get it over with.”
You nodded, and after getting the supplies left by Mikan, you began to tend to Gundham’s wound, cleaning the cut and reapplying the bandage.
You heard Gundham hiss softly as you did, letting out a quiet curse. “I will banish that pathetic worm to hell.” He growled through his teeth as he clenched the bed sheets.
“I’m sorry, Gundham.” You apologized. “I’m doing all I can to make it not hurt.”
“Not for that reason.” He corrected you. “I do not care if I am inflicted with pain. What he is going to be destroyed for is his attempt to make this your fate.” He looked into your eyes. “I am used to feeling pain. I do not wish for you to ever have to be hurt, my queen.”
You couldn’t help but smile softly at that. You couldn’t believe you doubted for even a second that Gundham loved you. You leaned over and placed a light kiss on his cheek as you finished wrapping the new bandages around his wound. “Well I don’t want you being hurt either, my dark dumbass, so let’s try to protect each other without taking a bullet, alright?” You giggled.
Gundham chuckled in response. “Very well, my fallen angel. If you insist.” He gently caressed your face and pulled you closer so he could kiss you lovingly, the both of you closing you eyes as you enjoyed the kiss.
When you pulled apart from the kiss, you smiled at him. “You should get more rest, my king.” You told him. “I’ll be right here while you do. And I don’t plan on ever leaving.”
~~~
Hope that was what you had in mind! I like this prompt. Making Nagito the bad guy is fun, even if I do love the guy lol
#danganronpa#danganronpa 2#sdr2#sdr2 gundham#gundham tanaka#x reader#female reader#nagito komaeda#gundham x reader#request#angst#comfort
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