#dark kruger

[blueberrypancakesworld]

~ An escape or the last stand ~

warning for all chapters : Minors don't interact please this is really not for you. This is a dark fanfiction the whole thing is Dead Dove : Do not eat content. Mental Instability , blood & violence , kidnapping , sexual assault , rape , threesome , blood kink , obsession , injury , Predator/Prey , Angst , smut , Jealousy , dark themes , sexual fantasy , blood kink , knife play , just the normal hardcore Slasher things

Summary : The wedding ceremony in the church is done. But so quickly husbands can change. She now her wife. Your prey. your obsession, your property. To the wedding belongs the night. The night when the husband sleeps with his chosen one. But when one is cursed again. How will the actual beautiful night turn out. and will they treat her well or stick a knife in her heart?

next chapter, masterlist

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For a moment everything was quiet in the church and she thought that was it now. Either it was all just a sick dream of Freddy or maybe she was already dead. But when Eddie approached her and knelt down in front of her, the girl took a step back. ,,No, darling, it's just the ring," Eddie purred, pulling out a small box. Then he took her hand and almost all the presents fell down. Which is why she stood there, slightly tense, trying not to drop Micheal's knife and risk a bleeding foot.

With one swift movement the ring was on her finger and the cold metal filled in a sick way to her shame.

Eddie stood up and looked down at his bride with a smile. ,,You may now kiss your bride given in marriage before God," they heard the priest say.

She wanted to move away from here but when she felt Eddie's hand on her back and how he pulled her towards him she knew it was inevitable. ,,My beautiful wife" he whispered to her before he put his lips on hers.

To her surprise there was a mix of love and almost shyness in the kiss as he let go of her lips. I will never get out of here again she thought desperately and escaped Eddie's grip. He had let go of her and Y/N was pushed against the altar. Only then did she notice the alert eyes of the others and her fear tightened her throat.

They no longer looked at her as a human being, they saw her as their obsession. She was their new exquesite prey. She knew that meat that had to be hunted tasted better than store-bought. Suddenly the men rose and Eddie held out his hand to her. ,,Come my flower, it's time for the wedding night," he said cheerfully and gave her a smile.

But she didn't feel like rejoicing, she felt like screaming and crying. Panic gripped her body, but with the dress and all the gifts she would not get far, she had to admit to herself.

When Eddie became impatient and took her hand, he pulled her as gently as he could between his changes, first behind and then beside him. The silent killers Jason , Michael , Thomas and Vincent walked behind the couple and cut her off to the rear.

Billy and Stu as well as Bo and Brahms walked in front of them and the four of them kept looking back at her. She was clearly aware of the grinning and whispering and it made her uncomfortable.

Next to her and Eddie walked Freddy and Pennywise and she heard the rubbing of the blades and the popcorn smell of the clown. It was a strange mixture between dust, blood, musty and dirty hung the sweetly tantalizing smell she loved as a child. ,,Like a stupid animal," Pennywise muttered and the balloon on her wrist magically moved slightly left and right.

The way out of the church compartment was much too fast for her and she felt nervousness taking over her body with every step. It was horrible to run towards her fate without being able to do anything.

The only thing she prayed for was that they wouldn't all jump on her at the same time. Otherwise she would probably prefer the jump out of the window or her husband's knife sooner than she thought.

The move to the main building was barely visible but she knew from the small twitch on Eddie's hand that his anticipation was rising. ,,Almost there, sweetheart" she heard the dirty giggle of Bo who let his eyes wander down her form.

It wasn't until they turned into the hallway and she recognized the door to her room where she fainted that she tried to escape his grasp. ,,Please-please don't no," she begged Eddie who had a firm grip on her hand. He stopped abruptly and looked at her in confusion.

His eyes shone a strange mixture of incomprehension and confusion. ,,But darling, what is it? I promise it will be beautiful. Just think of the children, they will look as beautiful as you, my dear," he tried to cheer her up in his own way.

At the word children, she looked at Eddie, startled. I'm as good as dead, was all she could think of, and fear gripped her. She knew that if she didn't kill herself, it would come out later anyway, and then she would be of no use to the murderers. ,,I-ehm..." she stammered, but fell silent and hung her head slightly.

The light flickered in the hallway and the shadows of the eleven people looked monstrous. She was the Lamb, and the others were the big bad wolf, snarling and licking its teeth at the meat. All at once Eddie's hand stroked her cheek and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

But the look that was confused before was now fixating as if he didn't want to let her go. ,,Honey are you still a virgin?" he asked her and a smile that reminded her of obsession scared her.

Before she could even explain the situation, the dream demon interrupted her. ,,My little one is certainly not a virgin anymore, sorry to spoil your fun," came from Freddy who gave a dark chuckle and his face came out from under his hat.

Suddenly Eddie let go of her and took a step towards Freddy.His expression changed completely and he seemed to be completely out of it. Anger and aggression seemed to have completely taken over his mind.Without warning, he lunged and tried to hit the older man. Anger and aggression seemed to have completely taken over his mind.

Without warning, he lunged and tried to hit the older man. Freddy dodged with a grin and the blades came out of one of Eddie's knives. This is my only chance she thought with a jerk, dropping everything but the knife she was clutching and running past the distracted killers.

In fact, Michael and Jason seemed to be expecting her and tried to grab her. She ducked and her hands clutched the white dress which tore at her legs with a jerk.

She heard Eddie shouting something after her, but she just kept running.

She felt ironic about the whole situation. A few hours ago or more, she didn't know, she had already run away once and now she was running around again in a broken wedding dress.

It was cold and goosebumps formed on her skin it was uncomfortable she hated it. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her. But she knew she had to get to the elevator to reach the top floor to find the exit and get to her car.

A tour of each floor was like a tour of wherever you started, you would always come back to the elevator, or so she hoped. So she ran on, clutching the knife and still unsullied, no blood on the blade but that would soon change.

She heard footsteps behind her and she knew it was all just a matter of time until they had her. ,,Come back now, darling!" she heard the cry of Eddie, who had apparently left Freddy earlier than expected. She thought for a moment, but no matter how many times she went through the scenario, she never had a chance against any of the eleven. Especially against the clown she was as good as powerless. She would not get her fear under control here.

She turned the corner and she hoped that it would not take long until she came to the elevator. But when she heard a crack in the wall, she gulped.

It's Brahms, she thought, and walked away from the wall.It was true that she might not be able to do anything against the killers, but she had to at least try to escape, otherwise it would be the only thing she would ever have known.

As said before, Brahms came out of the wall with a leap and tried to grab her. However, since the girl was too far away, he reached into the void. ,,Come back to me, I'll be good too!" he assured her, but his tone became vicious and she sobbed.

Her lungs and legs were racing and the fabric of her dress was getting more and more ragged from the poor sewing. When she arrived at a room she knew that hiding and waiting was the best option. She closed the door and walked backwards into the room. But it was dark and she could not see her hand in front of her eyes.

She was only aware of her own heavy breathing and rapid heartbeat. The knife was still held convulsively. ,,My little one, come back to your husband," she heard it whisper before a tongue ran across her cheek. She recoiled from Freddy and ran toward the door, knocking over a stack of chairs to block the way. ,,You really think little Y/N is going to stop me, stupid girl?" he shouted after her, laughing which increased her heartbeat.

She ran on and prayed that she would finally reach the elevator.

She was hardly aware of the spider webs around her until she began to get tangled in them and they began to cover her arms and legs, and she cut them with her knife. ,,My...wife, there you are, come to Pennywise," the redhead quipped, and she ducked away under a claw. ,,Leave me alone you miserable clown!" she screamed at him and tried to hit him with the blade as she couldn't find any other way to get out of here. Only when she saw the clown's glowing eyes did she back away in fear. He began to drool as if he were feasting on her performance.

,,So juicy and delicious come here my Y/N" he demanded and made a leap towards her. Out of survival instinct, she raised the knife and held it protectively in front of her. She heard the tearing of cloth and bells followed by an amused giggle.

When she looked, the knife was up to the hilt in the clown's chest and a misty mass came out. ,,This has all become much more interesting. Run, my wife, entertain me. Come on, run!" he shouted at her and in one movement the spider threads disappeared. Pennywise took a step backwards and escaped the blade before disappearing into the darkness. ,,What's going on here?" she muttered and looked around. Everything the clown had brought had disappeared, but she was glad that he had let go of her.

She made a relieved noise when she saw the elevator a few meters ahead of her. She slammed the grate of the elevator shut and let herself fall against the wall before pressing the button for the top floor.

But startled, she opened her eyes when she heard a familiar voice. ,,Darling, come here now. Come back to me...now!" Eddie shouted at her, his hands shaking the elevator. ,,I-no, please go away," she stammered, pressing herself harder against the wall of the elevator. ,,I'm not done with you yet. You're not going to break up our marriage!" he called after her before the elevator went up.

Trembling but relieved to finally get upstairs, she breathed in and out. Everything will be fine, just don't lose your nerve, she reminded herself, knowing that if she did get out, therapy would be the best thing for eternity. But when the elevator stopped on the second floor, she frantically pressed the button to continue. ,,It didn't work like that, sweetheart.

You see, the old thing took a while, you know, for the patients. Now come here," came from Bo who was pushing his way into the elevator. She screamed and dodged Bo before catching his hand with the knife. ,,Oh we're gonna get you my bitch," he said before running after her.

She ran again, afraid it might be her last moment. Briefly she turned her head and saw that Bo had slowed down, but she didn't know why. ,,Vincent grab her," she heard and wondered. But when she turned the corner and two knives with a dragon handle bored into the wall in front of her head, she looked at the wax figure maker in panic. The black-haired man emerged from the darkness and Y/N ran on, feeling him coming closer with each step.

Only when she felt a pain on her arm did she cry out. Vincent had thrown one of his knives at her and it had left a bleeding gash on her arm. Only the clang of the knife could be heard as it fell to the ground. The warm blood ran down her arm and began to soak the dress.

Under other circumstances this would be astetic, but in her present case she had nothing but disgust and fear for it. She ran around one of the many corners before skidding over an overturned table and looking back, gasping. She breathed a sigh of relief when she couldn't see Vincent in the dim light.

Slower than necessary to avoid toppling over from exertion, she continued through the second floor. She knew that each floor was only a circuit, but it still seemed so long to the elevator.

The knife was still in her hand with only a splash of Bo's blood on the blade. Better him bleeding than me she thought to herself and held the wound on her arm. Only now did she look down at her dress with distaste. After it was torn, it went down to her knee and some scraps of fabric were hanging down. What was once pure and innocent was now torn and stained.

She stopped and her eyes searched the darkness as she heard grunting, almost animalistic noises.

,,Thomas" she whispered and started to run, and only a few moments later the sparks of the chainsaw lit up the hallway. Despite the fact that the machine was heavy and she herself could not hold it up for long, Thomas seemed to have no problem chasing it through the halls. The sound of the chainsaw rang in her ears she hated it.

It was loud and she knew one hit with that thing would probably be enough to cut her in half or completely incapacitate her and then she would be done for. ,,Stop it Thomas please!" she begged as she felt the metal almost against her back. Suddenly the sound of the chains turning stopped and only the whirring of the engine could be heard. Y/N continued to run but looked back as if her words had stopped him.

But this was not the reason why she backed away and almost tripped over her own feet. ,,Jason" she whispered and the man with the machete looked down at her.

For a moment she thought he would leave her alone, just like Thomas. But when Jason went for his machete and lunged, she cried out. As best as she could, she rolled to the side before she pulled herself up and dodged the machete again. The machete got caught in the wall and Jason seemed to need a moment before he could come at her again. She took her chance and ran away again. ,,Come on, just a little longer," she reminded herself, making a delighted noise when she saw the elevator. She jumped in, pressed the button and was relieved to see that the system had caught up again. Just in time the elevator rose and the machete and the two knives flew towards the elevator but bounced off with a ringing sound and fell loudly to the floor.

She shakily took her hand away from her wound and saw that it was also now full of blood. She almost lost the knife and wiped her slippery fingers on the white fabric. Calmly just through the top floor and then out of here. You're back home and then everything will be fine she thought and a few moments later the door opened.

Slowly at first and then running, she ran through the upper floor. The air was cooler up here through the demolished windows but she didn't care. She breathed in the oxygen and was glad that she got some. ,,Hey beauty come here. Yeah, come join us, let's have some fun and watch a movie," purred the voices of Billy and Stu, the two older ones seeming to make fun of her insecurity.

Only when she cried out in fear when she saw the two with the Ghostface masks coming out of the darkness towards her did they run towards her.  ,,Please let me please!" she screamed at them and she screamed again when she was grazed by two blades. The knives of the two had hurt her even if only slightly on her shoulder, which was slightly open because of the dress. ,,I'm going to have so much fun my new Sidney" Billy said and Stu only made an annoyed noise. ,,She's ours, Billy ours!" snapped Stu, his jealousy clearly audible.

Fucked up but Interesting relationship, she thought, although there was no worse time to think of such a thing.

She looked back at the two of them and saw Billy stop his friend. They mumbled something and took off their masks. ,,The shadow will get you darling" Billy called after her and they both stopped before waiting in the darkness. The shadow. She thought about it, but her thoughts were too confused for her to sort them out.

But it didn't matter, she saw the exit and pulled the last reserves out of her. She sprinted out as fast as she could. She saw her car, which she had parked behind the barrier, untouched. But there was no greater joy than seeing the vehicle. She had a consumed grin on her lips as she stood in front of her car. She reached for the door's opener and faltered. It was locked.

She tried again, but when she realized she needed a key, she reached into the void. ,,The key, the damn key," she muttered and her fist collided with the glass. Hissing, she pulled back, but stopped when she saw someone standing behind her in the reflection of the glass. ,,Michael" came like a breath over her lips before the man cut her off with his hands.

The knife in her hand was held trembling in front of her and she looked up at Michael in fear. He was breathing loudly as if he was exhausted no rather excited but why she did not know and that made her afraid.

One last try she thought to herself and she took it in her stride to run all the way home. She gripped the knife tighter and stabbed at Michael's chest.

But with a speed she would not have expected, he grabbed her wrist and held it so tightly that she dropped the knife. The killer leaned down and came closer, but Y/N jerked away.

His hand ran over the wound on her arm and she hissed. He paused to watch her for a moment before his hand went to her hair. ,,Please let me go," she pleaded softly. His head turned slightly and behind the mask the two eyes watched her.

With a jerk he had grabbed her head and with two blows against the car she sank unconscious from the force into his arms.

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[blood--king]

—Dark! Dark! Dark! Dark!

The little boy ran up to the soldier, he was holding a cupcake and a drawing, but he soon handed them both to Dark and smiled.

—Dark! You're getting old! Happy birthday! What did you think of my drawing? I had to ask for help again... But it was all my idea!

model made by @null_somewhere

This day was not just any day, this was an important day, November 10th, a day Kauze heard from his father that was his elder brother's birthday. Even despite this occasion, Dark was still wearing his armor, the vampire was sitting on top of a defense tower, staring at the landscape portrayed beyond those walls, the man was quietly and slowly humming a song. The boy had to ask a guard to take him to his brother and when Dark turned to see him, he had two black lines on his face, going from his lower eyelids to his chin, it looked like a cool tattoo, but it wasn't.

The elder brother held the presents on his hands, and after breif seconds of silence, he put them aside. —Your drawing looks good. —said with null emotions and turned his gaze to the landscape.

—Kiddo, can you stay here with me? I need someone to talk to...

[dragons-wine]

I feel like that little lizard is gonna have a rough day.

Also johnny Depp's first role was to die horribly at the hands of Freddy Kruger.

[lemonhemlock]

this is kind of roundabout and random but i find it interesting how hannah's obsession with ulrich informs her entire life because, unbeknownst to her, her husband michael is also ulrich's son, which makes her son jonas also ulrich's grandson - arguably the person with whom she has the best and most tragic relationship with

but then again since time travel fucks up winden's family trees so much, it actually goes jonas -> the unknown -> tronte -> ulrich, so does that mean hannah's obsession with ulrich is actually a reflection of her relationship with jonas? where does one end and the other begin?

jonas'/ulrich's line is a time anomaly though so they shouldn't actually exist whereas hannah exists outside of the time loop so does this quantum event actually enable hannah to birth her own trauma that ends up consuming her entire life? i'm not sure where this is going but it's an interesting meditation on the concept of free will.

hannah is both a victim of the loop since her story is literally hijacked but also doesn't make the best choices either when confronted with this very-bad-not-good situation

but when freed from the confines of this exceptionally fucked up physics experiment she actually manages to have a reasonably content life with a husband and friends?

[dominogodbane1]

Kruger & Candy

[missnorn]

Here is another one I made myself. This is Jackie Earle Haley and Björk. This was created with the help of AI. It is based on a dream I had while watching and listening to both Jackie's and Björk's body of work. I will also show pictures that helped inspire the piece and plan to write an article related to it.

[mac-darf]

Evil Dead Rise Spoilers.

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The movie is very good. It's genuinely a fun watch. The gore is a bit torture-porn-esque but significantly less so than the 2013 movie. Humor is IMMENSELY downplayed in the film compared to the original trilogy and especially Ash Vs, but it has more jokes than the 2013 movie? At least as far as I remember. It's good. Please god let this fucking movie get a sequel. The worst thing about the 2013 movie was how it never got a continuation. That movie needed a sequel to properly plant itself into people's memory of Evil Dead as a series. I am sad that we've gotten two reboots of the Evil Dead series starting from scratch and neither try to be anything other than a horror film.

Evil Dead 2 is regarded as one of the greatest films of all time because of how it's a horror-comedy. Yet for some reason whenever a new filmmaker joins this series they just make a horror movie. There's more to this series than that.

However that being said, I do understand how much content I have with silly Evil Dead. Evil Dead 2, Army of Darkness and 3 seasons of Ash Vs, along with silly continuations like My Name is Bruce. So people want scary Evil Dead more than silly due to oversaturation I suppose.

ANYWAY. Now for my nerd rant.

Lore.

This movie clearly wants to be a loose continuation of the original trilogy and the 2013 movie. But uh. It kinda. Can't be? Evil Dead Rise says that there're three volumes of the Book of the Dead. This implies that the Book from this film is a separate book from the 2013 Book and the Necromancion from Ash vs and the original trilogy. But uh. This movie takes place in 2023. And uh. In Ash Vs there's a nuclear apocalypse that takes place in 2018. So I guess the movies are canon but Ash Vs isn't? And like holy shit. The demons in this movie are crazy.

The demons in the original could be defeated by bodily dismemberment or flame. In 2013 the rules are basically the same. Even for the big demon itself, the Abomination. A chainsaw could kill the top dog in that movie. In Ash Vs/the OT the demons would die from simple wounds and would dissolve from the Kandarian Dagger. The demons in EDR? They cannot be killed. It's explicitly stated they cannot be killed and the film treats that as true.

So if this is canon to the OT and/or the 2013 movie and if this gets a sequel, I expect the Dagger to appear. Something about how it's the only way to defeat the demons or whatever.

Although if Ash Vs really isn't canon then that makes me wonder how tf Bruce Campbell could return. If Sam Raimi directs another Evil Dead and Ash Vs isn't canon... What's Ash gonna be doing?

Oh right back to reviewing EDR. Every performance was great and the fact that the first gore thing to happen is a teen getting scalped rocked and that little kid who got mutilated was cool. Plus the ratking looking demon thing was baller.

Mia was a better main character tho. This one wasn't bad but uh. Jane Levi in another Evil Dead please.

Here's the best lines in the movie

"We're watching all the Freddy movies."

"Even the bad ones"

"THERE ARE NO BAD ONES"

[cruisingxdystopia]

©Leigh Phillips

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/thoughts-on-human-silos/

Thoughts on Human Silos

Are writers soon to be replaced by Artificial intelligence (AI)?  A reader sent me an article that raised the question. Its genesis came from a story about a man who wrote a children’s book using AI. Once released, reports of the publication raised hoopla in the writing community. I wasn’t surprised. I asked the same question in a 2019 blog.  Having contemplated for years, I’ve decided not to worry about AI. Language is too fluid for algorithms to keep up with its changes. Last year, alone, the English-speaking world added 379 new words. Machine learning expands as the human mind explores. It can, for example, create endless iterations of Star Trek, but it can never race ahead, taking us to worlds where no thought has gone before. Writer Meghan O’Gleblyn gives us an example of why this is the case. (“Dear Cloud Support,” Wired, February 2023, pg 19.)  Apps can instruct us on how to meditate, but its practice is beyond their ken. Apps lack consciousness and that makes them incapable of enlightenment. Similarly, we may flock to social media for human connection, but it is a pale shadow of the real stuff.  A tangle of algorithms that speak in emojis can never emulate the warmth of a hug.  Frankly, I wonder if having 10,000 friends on Facebook matters if no one on the list knows I hate asparagus. Social media sites remind me of post-its on Craigslist. They advertise personal needs. Silos of the self are how I think of them. The goal may be to commune with others but the result can become an internal monologue that serves to increase the appetite for the human touch–the way sugar excites our hunger for salt. Silos can be dangerous, for when we seat ourselves at the center of the universe, we invite mental illness.   Narcissism is one risk. Self-love skews reality and makes the afflicted more rather than less vulnerable. Many believe Donald Trump, our 45th President, exhibited the hallmarks of narcissism: feeling superior to others; requiring constant praise, and engaging in destructive behavior when deprived of it. Some shrug and call him crazy. But narcissism isn’t a mental illness. It’s part of the Dark Triad which includes Psychopathy and Machiavellianism, traits that are malevolent but not pathological. The  Dunning-Kruger effect holds that ignorance and a lack of education are the sources of these maledictions. Yet, new research suggests otherwise.  Overconfidence is the culprit. People who are convinced they are superior seek the company of others similarly affected. They form strong bonds that make them impervious to challenges from outsiders. Even so, that inner faith makes narcissists vulnerable to anyone who chooses to exploit their delusion. In sum, confidence makes them lazy.  It’s easier to embrace familiar ideas than to keep an open mind.    I do not fear artificial intelligence.  I fear human thoughts that go awry. Self-love drives a person inward though the intent is to find connection. The resulting irony is both perilous and tragic.   As a species, we are nothing without each other.  No app can teach us that.  We must learn the truth for ourselves.  

[rcksmith]

Sun and Water - Kaz Brekker

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: A LOT OF ANGUISH. Lots of mention of post-traumatic disorder. Curse words. Mention of death. Blood. Slave market. Mention of murder. VERY EMOTIONAL. VERY SWEET.

Word count: 4k

A/N: This one was very emotional for me. I cried writing with my playlist on full blast. I hope you love it as much as I do.

💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

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Ketterdam smelled of trickery, poison, desecration and danger. It was a dark place by birth that housed even darker people. Its soil was stained with blood and despair; of both Grisha and ordinary people. Their hiding places were for tormented souls who had long lost their humanity.

If you walked the wrong streets at night with an arrogant attitude, you would definitely not return alive. But if you turned south, and had a little money in your pocket, your feet would take you close to the huge, shiny, flashy casinos run by Pekka Rollins. You would pass clubs where the smell of beer mixed with cheating, and the laughter of drunks drowned out the screams of convicts across the boat harbor. The colors of these establishments ranged between red, orange and yellow, a vibrant explosion that, in such a funereal place, became infinitely more macabre.

If you were more adventurous, and had a little more money, you would pass by pleasure houses. With pink and purple facades, provocative titles and women perched in the windows, waving at any gentleman who smelled a fair amount of kruger, their chants insinuating and seductive. The silk pieces of these places waved like a Land in Sight flag for the lost and tormented men in that sea of stone that was called Ketterdam.

To less experienced - and novice - eyes, those places were just grotesque pieces that were part of a strange scenario. Just a bad city, without many mysteries or secrets. But Kaz Brekker, whose mother's name was Ketterdam, knew that these establishments were more profane than they first appear. Its sins were part of a long list of money laundering, human and arms trafficking, drug exports, a meeting point for commissioned murders and, deep in the corrupt heart of that city, the headquarters of the black market. He knew that Ketterdam was not just a land of trickery, poison, desecration and danger. It was the place where anyone could have absolutely everything for the right price.

And that's how he found you.

Kaz didn't like to remember that day. But it was engraved on his skin like a tattoo, like a hot iron. A damned, cursed reminder that despite his Herculean efforts to be the monster everyone whispered about, Kaz was still a man of flesh and warm blood. With a heart that writhed.

Something about that day in the past wasn't right. It was like a mysterious whisper in the breeze, an omen in the unknown eyes of the wanderers, a mistake in a painting that made his nerves itch. And Kaz Brekker always hated mysteries that he didn't know how to solve.

His cane banging against the thick, crooked stone floor in that even darker part of Ketterdam, the hem of his black coat swinging from side to side in the cold wind. He had 2,000 kruger in his pocket - the Crow Club's only money to pay employees, bribes, drinks and bills. He used and abused Ketterdam to offer everything at the right price, and now he was going to pay his debts to men who provided information, to locals who spiked the beer with water and sold it for a cheaper price, and to women who seduced targets and facilitated robberies. It was the only money he had.

He didn't have to look to the left, there was nothing for him there. He didn't have to wonder why people seemed to crowd closer to the curve of the last street. But, in a way that Brekker could never explain even in confidential whispers to his own soul, he turned that corner.

With his cane tapping on the ground, money in his pocket and responsibilities to fulfill, he approached, against all odds. Step by step, the air grew thicker, the invisible ropes tightened unjustifiably on the pulse of his neck, the ghostly sensation of the icy water approaching like the waves of the dark sea.

Those sensations were getting more confusing with each pump of blood. The physical consequences of his soul being shipwrecked at sea never came lightly, and this was a warning. A warning that Kaz Brekker should have turned around and walked away. While he still could.

The men around were euphoric. The women looked sadistic. And the racket of voices was too loud for him to be able to focus on a single line of conversation. The hands of men and women were raised and clutched money notes tightly, waving in the wind as if it were a flag, their sadistic, depravity-hungry eyes staring forward like predators in hunting season.

Perhaps in a parallel reality, Kaz would have followed every sign Ketterdam gave him to turn his back and leave. There's nothing for you here, Dirty Hands. Ketterdam needed demons and monsters to stay stand, it fed on trauma and anger to perpetuate the ‘everything for the right price’ market. People's chaos and hell were what maintained the local economy. Any possibility of redemption, peace and, worst of all, love, were severely condemned.

Go away, Bastard of the Barrel. Maybe Kaz would have exerted the steely control over his veins more tightly, maybe he would have listened to the city's singing and paid more attention to the sea that swelled its tide, and then there would have been a life in which he wouldn't have widened his eyes at the scene.. Go away.

The sea roared, the waves broke, the putrefying hands of the bodies drowned in the depths of the ocean grabbed his ankles with more ferocity, preventing, restricting, screaming that his place would forever be there with them in the dirt of the sea. But it was already too late. He looked at the reason for all the commotion. The sun fell on that girl's hair and it was as if the rays had also penetrated the deepest waters of that vast oceanic darkness, exorcising all the claws that retreated with infernal screams, letting go of his ankles as if they were burning.

It was like a ship's anchor being pulled up with extreme brutality, splashing water everywhere, pushing the dying pieces into the depths of hell, scaring birds in the air, and finally, finally, bringing his soul out into the warm air.

Kaz Brekker felt his entire body shake as if he had just died and been reincarnated, it was like an explosion in the darkest depths of his chest that made his blood warm again, his heart show that it was beating and his soul breathe.

The scene in front of him shouldn't have caused any commotion in his spirit. Ketterdam was not a good place, and it was home to even less good people. That open-air slave market was nothing new. It was repulsive, disgusting and disgusting, but not new. And it wasn't something Kaz got involved in. Everyone had problems with him, and he didn't play anyone's hero. Never.

Until now.

One of the girls was sitting on that improvised wooden stage, eyes extremely scared and that damn sun shining on her hair that shone like the heat of release that made him breathe for the first time. She was young, small as a rabbit, and her fur didn't belong on those rusty chains on her wrist. You.

That was all an lapse. A powerful lapse not only in his judgment, but in his long-tormented soul. He blinded himself for the first time since Pekka.

The deprivation of air, the burning of the claws sunk to the bottom of the cruel ocean, the ice that shook his bones and the smell of dead flesh swollen with rotten water had finally given him a respite.

A truce so portentous and so overwhelming that, for two blissful, desperate seconds, Kaz fucking Bekker felt fucking normal. He was breathing, for the love of the Saints. He felt the heat of the sun, his muscles were light, his heart was swollen and the corners of the world were as colorful as when he was 8 years old.

He felt Kaz Rietveld.

All because that girl was in his sight. As if her sight was a miracle to his torment. As if she were a curse to Ketterdam. No good feelings have a place here.

But it was already too late. That lapse made Kaz approach as if he no longer controlled his feet. It made his heart beat with blood that wasn't his. It made him take out the only money in his pocket and hold it up high as the biggest proposal. None of that insanity was coming from Brekker. But from Rietveld.

“Her.’’ he said in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own.

Yes, Kaz didn't like to remember that day. Because it was confirmation that the boy he had tried so hard to keep dead and drowned in the sea was as alive as tangil. And that beating heart was his. Fucking hell. That lapse cost a lot; all the money the Crow Club made in that month. Kaz Brekker had countless dangerous people to pay and he had no idea what would do. But what irritated and infuriated Kaz the most was that, when he looked into the eyes of that girl as fragile as a rabbit, he didn't regret it.

Not at all. Not a bit. Even when he had every reason in the world to regret it.

He didn't regret taking you out of those horrible rags you wore and buying you a dress. He didn't regret bringing you to his quarters even when still had no fucking idea what he would do to you now.

What use would such a small, fragile and beautiful girl would have? You looked like a little rabbit. He made a fucking mistake, because now this little rabbit was looking at him with those big eyes full of emotions: fear, innocence, curiosity. Brekker hated it. But his soul was smiling.

''Don't worry. I won’t touch you’’ Kaz said that day. His words dripped with venom, disgust, and self-loathing. He constantly thought that his condition was a sarcastic and cruel joke from the Saints that Inej prayed so much to; doomed to never stand a touch, to always be a broken and pathetic bastard to the point of mortal weakness. This always aroused anger, hatred, and a thirst for revenge against Pekka.

But looking into your big eyes…he felt as if something very valuable had been brutally ripped from him long before Kaz understood what he wanted.

Inej was wrong. The Saints were not merciful. They were as fucking sadistic as the demons of Ketterdam.

--------

The days passed, and Kaz still had no idea what to do with you. Or how to pay his debt to so many people or how to replenish Crow Club drinks. He hid you from the rest of the dregs because he didn't want to and didn't know how to explain the situation. What would he say? Kaz Brekker never did anything without a plan. Everyone knew that. And your presence refuted ALL the certainties and theories that Kaz always had a motive.

Until one day, what he knew would happen happened; fate than those who do not pay powerful people. If he didn't have money, then he had to pay in blood. As it always would be in Ketterdam.

--------

The moon was paler than usual that autumn, sending icy golden rays across the dark city. The breeze smelled of sea air, smoke, sand and blood.

Kaz sat down in his writing chair, gasping as the thud made his broken ribs hurt. His teeth clenched tightly and dropped the broken cane to the floor, his blood on the silver raven combined with the dried blood around his face.

“Oh My God’’ the voice that Rietveld’s soul loved so much sounded, terrified and in panic.

You.

Kaz closed his eyes tightly, cursing under his breath that you had chosen to come in at that exact moment. It had been 2 weeks since you were here, with him, but your presence still made his hate the reactions and sensations he had.

Brekker couldn't have feelings. Ketterdam didn't accept that, it didn't tolerate that. And the proof of this was the bloody state he was in. Sentimentality is a weakness. He repeated to himself. But why then did his soul not regret anything when he saw you? Damn, he'd probably do it all over again.

“Get out of here’’ his voice was hoarser and lower than usual. And, when you did the opposite and took a step forward, Kaz looked at you warningly ‘’Now’’ Brekker could handle a beating, he'd had it his whole life. He could deal with broken ribs, with a bloody face, with a broken cane, with wounded pride. But he can't deal with the feeling that, when you looked at him, what hurt and tortured him more than anything else was the fact that he was robbed of your touch. He couldn't touch. And it never sparked anything but a fire of rage and revenge. Until now.

Kaz Brekker couldn't feel you. Not even if he fell to his knees on the floor and prayed to all the Saints. Not even if he sobbed asking for just one day of mercy. Just one day. Just a memory of how your skin felt beneath his hands. It had been more than a century since Brekker had touched another skin, warm skin. His was always cold, cadaverous, wet even when it was completely dry. And that was never a reason for despair. Until now.

He wanted to touch you more than he wanted to breathe. He wanted to slide his fingers across your cheek more than he wanted to slide his hands across money notes. But the sensation would send him back to the waters of Ketterdam. Back to the sickening feeling of rotten flesh and death surrounding him, making his chest tighten and his vision blacken as that traumatic memory would drag him back into.

The Saints were a fucking sadist. “Please…’’ your voice was broken and completely tearful. Please…

That single word - that single word alone had the power to bring his gaze up to you. Your pleading voice, your eyes filled with pain, not for your own, but for his, the way you whispered as if you was about to crumble.  You looked more scared than the day he took you from the slave market. Kaz fought down the tightening of his chest, his throat closing in. Please. Oh. He wanted to throw caution in the wind. Just once. Only for you. He wanted to put his gloves aside, just once. Just to hold your face. The desire to beg the Saints on one knee came back with more force. ''No" Kaz looked at you, staring into your eyes, as he saw you step closer. He watched the silk green dress flow, the fabric he bought for you, and for some reason it made him ache more. Damn dress.

He kept his eyes locked on that green silk for longer than expected. His body was completely bruised, but his thoughts were just feeling envious of that dress. That dress was on your skin. Feeling something he could never feel. Lucky dress.

Kaz heard your sobs get louder. "I beg you’’ You were about to fall apart “let me help…’’ He didn't know the extensions of his own injuries, but the look in your eyes said they were serious. Perhaps there was more blood than he expected.

Yes. his soul, Rietveld, screamed. Screaming so loud his bones shook. Yes. Touch me, make the cold go away again. Take me out of this ocean one more time. Help me. Touch me! Make the hands of the corpses leave my neck. Touch me. Saints, this is the most unbearable thing in the world. Kaz had no idea how long it had been since he had heard a person sob for him, but your voice broke something in him like nothing else. Kaz could get stabbed and beaten and shot, but this—this was the one thing he couldn't bear. "No'' Yes!

But you seemed in tune with his soul. As it has always been since he first saw you. You seemed to see beyond Brekker facade. Your footsteps reached him like desperate birds, your beautiful eyes growing wider every moment you saw the details of his injuries.

He didn't move from the chair, even when he should have, even when you fell to your knees between his feet, looking at him with so much fear and panic that he felt his heart skip a beat. Damn organ.

Yes. You looked beyond Brekker, You looked at Rietveld. And no one ever looked at Rietveld. “I promise to be quick. Just let me clean up the blood. Let me sterilize the knife cuts.’’ Your voice had so much pain that Kaz thought you were the one who suffered the beating. Which was impossible. Because Kaz Brekker would never let anyone touch you. but he can't touch you either. Yes, his fucking fate.

He wondered if you were so shaken because of guilt. Did you know that the 12 men he owed money got together to beat him? Did you know that he just hadn't paid because he used all the money to buy you? That's why you were so sentimental? Because the guilt. Out of pity. But it was impossible, Kaz never said anything about it. Maybe he was just looking for reasons to justify the magnitude of your concern with something other than feelings of the heart. “Please… I can't- I can't see you like this.” Your voice took him out of his thoughts, realizing that no matter how much he screamed inside, his expression remained as hard as a stone.

“I’m scared that something irreversible could happen.’’ you were honest, exposing your heart because you knew he wouldn’t expose his “Please, the thought of you dying makes me scared.’’ Yes, you were scared…like a cute rabbit. His body was hurting too much to know which stab wound was deeper, which were more superficial and which caused you so much panic.

Kaz swallowed around the lump in his throat, his heart beating wildly in his chest, but for a reason completely different from the wounds and bruising that plagued his body. Kaz wanted to put his guard up and push you away, but the sight of you kneeling before him, your eyes pleading for his consent as you raised your palm up to his battered and bloodied skin, that pleading tone - And that dress. The fucking dress he bought for you - was making him lose.

Kaz looked down at your face. His heart was burning. What am I doing? Your eyes, gazing up at him with tears rolling down your cheeks, you were breaking because of him, for him. And saints — he couldn't…Not when you looked that way. Not when every fiber of his being wanted you. Touch me. Make me come out of the sea. Make me breathe again Kaz closed his eyes, his breath sharp as he braced himself. A moment of hesitation before he finally speaks. "Quick."

It was another lapsus. The biggest mistake he could make. Ketterdam was again screaming in the background in the form of furious winds; that city did not allow pure emotions, redemptions and love.

You were so quick to get up and run to the bathroom, returning with a damp towel and a desperate but relieved look. Your knees dropped to the floor once again between his feet, and your breathing was faster than it had ever been before.

You were going to touch him

It was a mistake. An absurd error. A sin and a profanation of the worst kind.

The tide of the icy ocean within him changed course, beginning to churn its waters and threatening to drown Kaz Brekker once again. The sensation was as if his skin was swelling from the cold waves, like a corpse that had been discarded at sea for centuries. And that wouldn't be far from the truth. Kaz Rietveld was shipwrecked in that ocean along with Jordie. Along with all the other unfortunate people in that damned city.

So why did he also feel Rietveld now more than ever? when you were about to touch him.

Kaz's soul stirred, perhaps in desperation, perhaps begging for release. Maybe for both things. The emotions were so strong that he felt like vomiting the salty sea water stuck in his lungs. Then he focused on one point: the smooth skin of your neck.

You were so nervous and desperate that he could see your vein pulsing, a few errant droplets of sweat running from behind your ear to your slender neck, making their tempting way, mocking Kaz for not being able to follow the same path with his fingers.

Would he be able to fool his demons if he made that journey with his mouth? Could it be that his tongue also carried his traumas?

The wet towel went over one of his cuts, and Kaz swore so loudly that it scared you. His fingers locked for a second in the chair, but your fear of him changing his mind was greater than your fear of his reactions. You pressed the towel again, and again, and moved from one wound to the next. Your movements were in automatic mode to want to take advantage of his permission as much as possible, to help as much as possible in a time limit that you didn't know.

The invisible clock chimed like a premonition.

With one hand, you used your trembling fingers to move a piece of his cut shirt to the side. And your and his skins brushed

Holy Mother of Saints. Kaz grunted, letting his head fall back and pressing his fingers into the wood of the chair's arms even more. He closed his eyes tightly. The avalanche of emotions raised a tisunami in his sea and crashed over him with such brutality that Kaz felt he might die again. And revive.

Your fingers brushed against his skin once again, and this time his chest exploded on a different note; as if the heat of the sun was fighting to rescue him from the bottom of the sea. Making its way through the petrifying waters like a ray of heat. Like a chance. A hope. Or as an illusion.

Kaz Brekker never cried. He came out of that ocean swearing revenge, like a ghost, a monster, the murderer of Rietveld. Vowing to be a knight of the apocalypse. But he was none of those things. Kaz was a man of flesh and blood. With a heart that bled every day, with a soul neglected and so massacred that it bordered on unrecognizability: but not total annihilation.

Kaz Brekker never cried. But Kaz Rietveld did.

Being touched, after so many years without even human contact, made Brekker want to vomit, scream, cut his hands off, drown himself with Jordie, blow Pekker's brains out. But it made Rietveld want to cry, to cry out to the saints for salvation, to beg that he could have just one good thing in life. Please. his soul tore in prayers. Please…let me have this moment…for the love of God, have mercy on me just now. Somehow, he didn't vomit, and his skin on his became more like being caressed by the sun. He squeezed his eyes closed even more and imagined himself on the roof of the Crow Club, beneath the midday sun of the height of summer.

You were the sun. Just it.

Your hands pressed bandages into his deep cuts.

You were the sun. Just it.

Your breathing was heavy and your fingers pushed the rest of his bloody shirt away.

You were the sun. Just it.

Kaz repeated that like a mantra. A prayer. A choir. An exorcism. But his midday sun at the height of summer was beginning to be clouded, the sea on the horizon was beginning to swell, and Jordie's voice was beginning to rise from the dead in the air. The second he couldn't take it anymore, you pulled his hands away. Brekker breathed a sigh of relief. Rietveld screamed in despair.

‘’You’re going to be fine’’ your voice was as shaky as his emotions.

Kaz couldn't open his eyes yet. Not now. Not at this moment and… the absence of touch gave way to the feeling of extremely warm lips touching one of his bandages for a second.

This removed him from his disabilities. Stunned and perplexed, Kaz opened his eyes immediately and tilted his head towards you the same second his your moved away.

If your touches had been the sun, that micro kiss had been the entire fire.

“My mother one day said that kissing the wound makes it heal faster.” Maybe you were holding on tooth and nail to all the things that guaranteed you that Kaz Brekker would survive that moment.

Maybe a kiss heals wounds faster... indeed. Kaz Brekker thought before a curve of a smile painted his lips.

[salaciousdoll]

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿ The Salacious Exploits ‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

You’re a girl who was brought into this world with riches. Many thought that you had it all but the act of abandonment done by your father says otherwise. Don’t get it misconstrued though, your father is still alive and in your life just doesn’t even glance your way even when you broke into the famous stadium near your house with your friends, leading to sending you away to boarding school. Boarding School was an experience. Getting through that obstacle only to end up at a nice 4 year University. Easy-peasy for you right? except two and a half years later you’re sent to Private College. You hated your mother for thinking what’s best for you but “The Kaizen of Maria” Private College was a risqué experience, way better than boarding school, am I right? Am I? See how you deal with being with the social classes you don’t usually be in. Hardships, flowing red and orange leaves hitting the ground in the opening season of fall, volleyball practices, majors, sexy instructors and classmates, and finally realization of issues.

Be apprised of the warnings before you read below: smut, heavy smut, plot build-up, angst, heavy angst at the end chapters and maybe beginning too, chubby reader in mind but everyone could read, age gap, reader is in her early 20s( 21-23), tw.taboo, teacher/student relationships, reader could be considered hyper feminine and Bimbo/ditzy, very different and wrong depictions of boarding school( just for the plot), trauma( heavy and light), power dynamic relationships, sex with no relations on one side( yours), large age gaps so please be aware, written with black reader in mind but again everyone could read, volleyball player!reader, fashion major!reader, chubby reader in mind but everyone could read, daddy issues are high here but this in no way to describe it in a sexual manner only( this also goes into depths of it), heavy drug use! But the reader is not doing it just watching + dark content!, threesomes, classroom fucking, under the desk, Pervert reader and some characters, size kink but not major, false!corruption kink, reader is very seductive without even doing anything, body fluids( squirting, creampies, cum on body), mention of the younger cast of each series( not everyone though), Fem!reader, the men and Hange are between the ages of (30-50, so exit out this series if you’re uncomfortable), some fluff here and there, a little self indulgent, small descriptions of body parts( cocks, pussy, hair, etc.), heavy body worship, oral( f & m receiving), mentions of alcohol/parties off campus, strict teachers( Nanami, Erwin, and Levi), toxic!relationships, unrequited love( male wise), modern!au, joint modern au, crossover au!

Characters: Erwin smith, Levi Ackerman, Onyankopon, Hange Zoe, Miche Zacharias, Gojo satoru, Geto suguru, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Shiu Kong, Hiromi Higuruma, Keith shadis, Kishibe, Eren Kruger, Principal Yaga, Zeke Yeager, Atsuya Kukasabe, Grisha Yeager, Kenny Ackerman, and Choso Kamo

Wc: tba ( tie it up at the end of the series)

ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟNote from Salaciousdoll: Thank you to Deja for the pictures/headers, I adore you so much for this because you did this for free and just for your own entertainment, I was so scared to ask you but we up!! 😭 read the warnings carefully everyone. As always, MDNI; 18+ only

Taglist

｡ﾟ•┈୨ CHAPTERS ୧┈• ｡ﾟ

i. The opening of Fall 9/19/23

ii. Friends? 10/1/23

iii. You can’t always get what you want 12/16/23

IV. I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure! 1/16/24

V. Be my Daddy(1/24/24)

VI. Ridin’

VII. I put you down because I want you

VIII. Slut Pop

IX. Strawberry Pound Cake

X. Thee Five Star Bitch

XI. Cherry Cola

Xll. Ten men on my line tryna fuck me, your daddy’s the biggest spender

XIII. He calls me lavender

XIV. Just wanna have fun’

BONUS CHAPTERS

XV. Holding hands with an bad old man

XVI. Allure

XVII. Wanna know how red taste?

XVIII. Blood Rush Slut

XIX . Candy Necklaces

XX. French Restaurant

｡ﾟ•┈୨ SALACIOUS PLAYLIST ୧┈• ｡ﾟ

1. Boarding school- Lana Del Rey 2. Party Girls- Victoria Monet

3. Love Language- Sza 4. Open Arms- Sza ft Travis Scott

5. Mermaid Hotel-Lana Del Rey 6. Girl that got away- Lana Del Rey

7. Go Go Dancer- Lana del Rey 8. Off to the Races- Lana del Rey

9. I’m that girl- Beyoncé 10. Rocket- Beyoncé 11. You can be the boss- Lana del Rey

12. French restaurant- Lana del Rey 13. Fucked my way up to the top- Lana del Rey

14. Attention- doja cat 15. Daddy issues- The Neighborhood

16. Older- Isabel larosa 17. Naughty Girl-Beyoncé 18. Valley of the doll- Marina

19. What was I made for- Billie elilish 20. Baby doll- Mariah Carey

21. The roof- Mariah Carey 22. Body Electric- Lana del Rey

23. All Up In Your Mind- Beyoncé

Tagging: @chosoist @honeybleed @emomanswhore @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @angelshub and if anyone else wants to be tagged in future chapter, fill out the taglist form.

｡ﾟ•┈© all right reserved to salaciousdoll, she does not give permission to steal, plagiarize, and translate.

[blood--king]

◢【Vɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ Pᴏʟɪᴛɪᴄs】

The Blood Kingdom was once known as the Blood Empire. Most of the former kings used to wield their power for selfish purposes delivering suffering and pain wherever they went. Although, all those years of war were the bases of the current kingdom in many ways such as culture, economy, religion, society. And here, we are going to talk about one of the pillars of this kingdom.

— Vlad Bloodborne, the third supreme king. For many people, a lunatic, but despite the fact, genius. He was aware of the dangers of a monarchy; he realized that a king would need a close support of power. He stablished a hierarchy composed of five people who would represent what he called “The Victory Conditions” of a war: Leadership, Blood, War, Death and Love. These five people would be the supreme king and his four dukes and the hierarchy itself is what we call The Victory Politics

You already know the current supreme king, so we are going to tell you more about the former one and the current dukes.

═══════════════•°✝°•═══════════════

◢Name: Vlad Bloodborne.

◢Occupation: Former Supreme King of the Blood Empire.

◢Function: The king has to manage every aspect of the kingdom and watch over its prosperity.

◢State: Died at the age of about 5500.

◢Sexuality: Bisexual

◢Fun fact: Unlike the other members of the family, who love classical music; Vlad here loves pop music, and if the singer is a girl much better, the more feminine the song the more he will love to sing it.

◢Footer comments:

Sander: I was talking with Drya about this guy and we came to a realization, the best word to describe him is “lunatic”, I am sure you’ve read it referring to him throughout the blog and it’s because that is the best word, no crazy or insane or mad, lunatic.

Drya: I have already made a little comment about him before but... I kinda don't recommend you to meet him...? (Hopefully he is dead, still available for questions though...) Like if you have boundaries and such, please don't, trust me. For your own safety put yourself in a bunker 7 feet under ground—— you know what? Forget it, it won't be enough, he will chase you and you'll be part of his daily entertainment. You won't escape that honestly... At least you are dead already :v

═══════════════•°✝°•═══════════════

◢Name: Dark Kruger.

◢Occupation: Duke of War.

◢Function: This duke’s duty is to be the general of the kingdom’s military forces, manage the tactics, troops, training, weapons, security, etc.

◢State: Alive (and single).

◢Sexuality: Gay (A-LOT).

◢Fun fact: Dark doesn’t like luxury, despite being one of the five most important people in the kingdom he still wears the same uniform and armor each soldier has to wear. He has a mansion but it looks almost empty.

◢Footer comments:

Sander: … I am so sorry I can’t stop looking at his butt *make me yours, daddy*

Drya: Tell me why you have to be gay TnT

═══════════════•°✝°•═══════════════

◢Name: Lilith (just that, she’s an orphan)

◢Occupation: Duchess of Love.

◢Function: Her function is a little ambiguous, she has to watch over the happiness and well-being of the citizens. She manages things like the entertainment, jewelry, she even has her own clothing company, The Bleeding Fang. But also, she is in charge of the Spies’ division.

◢State: Alive (also single).

◢Sexuality: It’s not simple. She thinks she’s asexual because she doesn’t feel attracted to anyone and she has never felt, also, her sexual experiences have been…terrifying. However, that doesn’t mean she is asexual, she hasn’t met the right person yet, and it could be either a man or a woman.

◢Fun fact: She loves to use lingerie in public, she loves to feel her skin exposed because she REALLY loves her body and she’s proud it.

◢Footer comments:

Sander: About the fun fact, Hell told her: “I’ll allow it as long as you do not show your nipples or something else” XD. She is like Hell older sister. Also, all the clothes she sells and wears are designed by herself.

Drya: Honestly if you find your way into the Blood Kingdom without protection, you better find her in your path. She is the most lovely person you will ever meet.

═══════════════•°✝°•═══════════════

◢Name: Killian Sulius.

◢Occupation: The Duke of Blood.

◢Function: His main function is to ensure the food in the kingdom, he’s on charge of all the restaurants, laboratories and the salves system. But also, he manages the paperwork of the kingdom.

◢State: Alive (single, do not date him though, trust me).

◢Sexuality: Bisexual.

◢Fun fact: He has a strange concept of relationship. He doesn’t like vampires, he loves to “date” other species because he likes being in charge, he would literally make the other person a slave.

◢Footer comments:

Sander: He is a mf. Nothing more to say your Honor.

Drya: As he said, don't date him, trust him.

═══════════════•°✝°•═══════════════

◢Name: Nost Darkweb.

◢Occupation: The Duke of Death.

◢Function: You know all those abandoned and haunted places? Those were stupid people go to “explore them” in the middle of the night? Well, Nost and his Hunting Division are probably there waiting for those stupid people to step in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think the Hunting Division’s name speaks for itself.

◢State: Alive…? Doesn’t look like it.

◢Sexuality: Straight.

◢Fun fact: He is the one that raised Hell on Vlad’s orders. He became a parental figure for our beloved king.

◢Footer comments:

Sander: This poor man has lived an awful life…I would love to tell you but it is more fun if you get to know him. I am trying to explore these different dukes in the several AUs of the blog. He is being explored in the verse called “Special” (hey there Nunnally :D)

Drya: He might be scary, undead-like, but trust me when I said that all he needs is a reminder of what's the meaning of love. Still, it will be though to convince him :^

Extra: Height comparison.

[sweetiecutie]

GOD KRUGER IS GREAT I'd fucking LOVE to see you write for him

A/n: I genuinely think that the only reason Krueger is not popular among CoD fandom is simply bc he’s canonically under 180 cm💀💀

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dark! Krueger I guess, obsession, nasty😜

Another a/n: also it’s extremely OOC, but what can you do abt that, huh? Let the girl be and share her delusional fantasies on her silly lil blog😩🙄

Okay, so starting off strong - Sebastian Krueger is an absolute, pathetic, needy simp for you. You so much as throw a fleeting gaze in his general direction? He’s there by your side, like an obedient dog that he is for you, happy to do whatever just to please you, to make your day a bit better and easier.

Yes, Sebastian is a terrifying killing machine and a literal war criminal, he doesn’t hesitate for a single second to blow enemy’s brains out or pitilessly cut them open with his knife, letting their guts spill onto the dirt under his feet. But with you? Krueger turns into a literal pookie-bear, all soft and lovey-dovey the very moment he so much as senses your presence (it’s a secret how he does it). And no, he is not ashamed nor scared to show his feral side to you; moreover, he’s pretty sure that this way he can fully let you see just how capable he is, that he can protect his little sweetheart no matter the circumstances, that he is a perfect match for such a frail and helpless thing as you (even though you are fully capable yourself)

Krueger is definitely bigger than you - if not in height, then definitely in weight and muscle volume; and fuck yes would he take advantage of this. He’d corner you somewhere relatively private, pressing you against the wall, his burly body not allowing you a smallest opportunity to slip from within his grasp. Mighty hips are pressed flush against yours, and so is his painfully hard dick. Krueger will hump your leg shamelessly, like a needy fucking dog; he’ll moan and groan and whimper against your reddened ear, telling you just how good it feels, how good you smell, how much you make him wanna cum.

And it’s not like you can do anything about it. You’ll ask Krueger to leave you alone - he’ll distance himself slightly (very slightly), allowing you some personal space, but then you’ll notice your stuff going missing - your tees, lip balms, panties ofc. And even if you confront Sebastian he’d just shrug it off, acting as if he doesn’t have a slightest clue what you are talking about.

You may even try to run but of boy, I don’t think that’ll end well. Being a skilled soldier that Krueger is, having excellent tracking skills, it’ll take a few weeks max for him to get to you, even if you flee to the other end of the world, to some small shithole of a town. And the moment Sebastian actually finds you? God knows what’ll happen, so better don’t push your luck.

So all you have to do is to just allow Krueger love onto you and be his kleine Mausi <3

[sailoryooons]

Incubus yoongi x reader

Go wild with smut maybe theres fluff and angst too! Love your writing so much

☾ Pairing: Incubus!Yoongi x archdevil!Reader

☾ Summary: 

Sunder (sun·​der) transitive verb : to break apart or in two : to separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space Sunder (sun·​der) intransitive verb : to become parted, disunited, or severed

☾ Word Count: 5,297

☾ Genre: Smut, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Fated Lovers

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Vague worldbuilding - this takes place in a Hell setting so.. Lots of talk of literal hell, implied violence and war, themes of classism/species racism, hint of political scheming, depiction of servants who are chained/collared, implications of sex work/incubi being bread specifically for sex work, honestly Yoongi and reader kinda give co-dependant vibes, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little bit of overstim, cum eating if you squitn, multiple orgasms, bleeding/scratching/biting, possessive themes… um I don’t know the smut scene is more PrOsEy than straight-up smut. 

☾ Published: Sunday, April 7 2024

☾ A/N: We are using Forgotten Realms (dnd) lore because I was randomly inspired to do so. You need zero knowledge of Forgotten Realms or dnd lore to read this - there is vague world building and references to a plot on the side that I imagine Yoongi and reader are a part of but that does not happen in this little one shot. I just did it for the tension and because I’m out of control. 100% change I got some dnd lore wrong - don’t care, I kinda made it my own in parts as needed!!! Thank you!!! 

☾ A/N 2: Dear anon, I don’t have a clue what this is, but it was inspired by a very specific scene in the movie Troy when Paris (Orlando Bloom) sneaks up to Helen’s (Diane Kruger) room while the Greeks and Trojans are downstairs partying and he’s like hehe let’s bang it out. That’s it. I really hope you like this because sometimes I fill requests and I'm like ..... that probably was not what they had in mind and yet here I am, delivering whatever ??? this is ??

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾Filled Requests ☾ Masterlist  Milestone Request Event ☾ Ask

Note: I don't use my tag list for requests!

A pair of dark eyes in the shadows around the party catches your attention as you listen to Archdevil Belial's drone about his victory in Phlegethos. The fiend’s words fall on deaf ears as your gaze narrows to a deadly point on the man lingering in the shadows across the room, keeping away from the revelry with a single chalice in his hand.

And he’s staring at you. 

You feel your muscles constrict as you flick your gaze away, your heart rate picking up speed as you try and focus on Belial again. It isn’t a story you care to hear about - he’s been droning about his defeat of the Kelemvor worshipers on the fiery planes of Phlegethos. Hardly a battle as much as a skirmish outside of the city gates that demanded his attention. 

Archdevil Belial is none the wiser that the creature he really desires to kill is lurking at the edge of the party, burning eyes on you as he cocks his head and glances toward the empty staircase that leads toward the living quarters. 

There’s a twitch of irritation in your stomach as Yoongi turns and vanishes into the shadows. He is good at being seen only when he wants to, which works in his favor when he enters the hall of his greatest enemies, all in one room because of war meetings against the very fiend who now slips upstairs to your bedroom. 

It was only a matter of time before Yoongi showed up - despite the level of stupidity it takes to show up in the hall of your sworn enemy. Yoongi likes to show off though. He likes to remind his enemies - and himself - that he is not so easily kept out of places that he wants to be. 

Especially if those places he’s being kept from have you inside of them. 

“Thank you for the conversation, Lord Belial,” you interrupt. The devil looks at you with his mouth open, eyes blazing as you interrupt him to dismiss yourself. You feel a small twist of satisfaction. “I must retire for the evening. I am returning home tomorrow before starting my campaign through the realms to ensure my father’s army are being… led properly.”

Belial’s face twitches in irritation. You’re above his station - though not too far - and decorum is everything in matters of spoken insult. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is important for our… figureheads to inspire. The Whip of Asmodeus paints a threatening picture, to be sure. It is hard to be of influence on the battlefield - we do appreciate your efforts off the field.” 

A laugh like cutting glass bubbles from your lips. “You honor me.” You feel the ice in your mouth when you dip your head politely, pretending to be unbothered by the implication that you’re nothing but an empty threat. “I will see you in a tenday, Lord Belial, when I come to inspire in Phlegethos.”

With a curt turn, you cut through the party toward the stone dias. Those in attendance part for you like water parting around a sharp boulder, hurrying to get out of your way. Figurehead or real threat doesn’t matter - you’re the daughter of their lord and by rights their lady. 

Your father sits on his throne of twisted bone and fire ahead of the party, crimson eyes drinking in all that happens from his seat of power. Yet he has missed something incredibly important that now lingers upstairs waiting for you. The thought makes your lips twitch in a smirk as you ascend the stairs to where Asmodeus sits, a giddy tingle in your belly. 

A beautiful incubus boy sits next to the throne on the floor, a gold collar around his neck with a glittering chain that leads to Asdmodeous’ hand. The incubus looks at your father with adoration, gold eyes burning. Mouth agape. Breath catching. 

You don’t know how much of it is performance. It’s always hard to tell with the lower level fiends what is real and what is an act. It’s part of the dangerous game they play, and thought you’re more accustomed to their kind - especially the one lurking in your room - you’re still unsure how to tell the difference with this one.

You catch the scent of honey and vanilla as you step nearer, though the incubus doesn’t look at you. You immediately feel the ebbing power of allure from the creature, battering your senses just being so close. Asmodeus seems unaffected by the battering power of lust radiating from the incubus, but you see the two guards behind him glance toward the creature on the floor. 

You grit your teeth and ignore the twist in your gut, trying not to be irritated. Only one man has power over you this way. It isn’t the incubus’ fault that he’s doing what he was trained to do, but the sudden pitch in your stomach and dizziness you feel around him unsettles you. 

“I am returning to my chambers, Father,” you murmur, bowing deeply. “I have grown wear of Belial’s peacocking.” 

Behind him are two massive Orthons, no less than eight feet in height and wide like a troll. Their horns are curling and battle-scarred, ugly tusks showing from thick, fat lips. The beasts are hellish weapons from wars passed, now assigned to the personal guard of your father. You note that they also did not notice the shadowy incubus slipping into their party and up the stairwell.

It almost makes you tsk. Even for a creature as skilled and powerful as Yoongi, slipping past an entire party full of the most powerful infernals in the realms is impressive. He is, of course, more than just an incubus now, but still. The sheer magnitude of doing it successfully is not lost on you - and makes you worried for his sanity. 

“Sleep well,” Admodeous voice rumbles, his voice like stones grinding together. “Tomorrow, you return to Malbolge and ready to set out on your campaign.” His fiery eyes turn to you and you feel the weight of the burning Nine Hells press against you. “They will feel the crack of the Whip of Asmodeous and know that we are mighty. 

“It will be done.”

“She is as pretty as My Lord is,” the incubus boy purrs from where he sits at the foot of the throne. You glance at him, realizing that his golden gaze has broken away from your father and turned to you. Your stomach twists in equal parts anger, guilt, and disgust as you feel the lick of his power. “The House of Asmodeus is as beautiful as they are powerful.”

Again, it’s hard to discern if the incubus is performing or if he means it. Asmodeus pulls the chain hard, yanking incubus toward him. You hear his neck pop, though it doesn’t break as the creature wimpers at the sudden show of violence. “Do not speak to her, worm. You are nothing. She is the Heir Apparent and Princess of the Nine Hells. You are fodder.” 

The incubus cowers, and ducks his head away from you, curling in on himself. The sensual allure to him lessens distinctly, the energy souring. You feel your fingers twitch as you think of Yoongi. It is not difficult to guess that Asmodeous’ newfound desire to humiliate and dissipate incubi and succubi are inspired by his hatred and inability to rid himself of Yoongi’s stain. 

Swallowing thickly, you bow once more, slipping backward off the dias and toward the stairs that lead upward. No one guards them - there are supposed to be no enemies at this party - and shadow falls over them, the torches flickering as though watching you ascend.

Music and voices follow you up the stairs, the soft click of your shoes against the carved stone louder in the growing silence as you navigate to your bedrooms. The staircase winds and the sounds drift further away from you until it’s only the crackling of occasional sconces and your steps.

Two heavy doors in the west wing of the Citadel belong to your bedroom. The crackling energy of the arcana buzzing along them acting as a lock makes your skin tingle. You mutter the password and feel the pop of magic as it vanishes, allowing you to push heavily against one of the doors to grind it open. 

The room is both yours and not. It was your room for most of your life growing up under the ruler of the Nine Hells, opulent and dark, full of old possessions and heavy, draping curtains to keep out the smoke and ruin, rich art painted by careful hands with red and purple splashed across canvas. 

Now, it feels like a room that belonged to someone else entirely. You’re no longer the vicious little thing that thought would sit on the throne in Nessus one day. You’re no longer the unthinking weapon that Asmodeous uses to maintain order and public punishment. 

A large bed stands on a lifted dais, covered in silks and piled high with pillows. They lay undisturbed as you close the door behind you and mutter the password again, feeling the static of magic seal them shut behind you. It would take a small army to batter through them, thankfully. 

Your eyes scour the room. Embers burn in a smoldering fireplace, offering little light in the dimness of the bedroom. A large sitting area stretches to the right with leather chairs and velvet chaises, tables covered in untouched books and scrolls. 

To the left is an open study, a heavy wooden desk in the middle of the room backed with bookshelf-covered walls and heavy chests locked with tombs inside. You see the cover of a journal flipped open, the only sign that Yoongi had been lingering in your study snooping. 

Your mouth twitches at the corner as you look away from it. Yoongi leaving something out of place is only ever on purpose, a confirmation to you that yes - his visit has double meaning. You might be the primary reason the incubus and favored chosen warrior of a death god has snuck into his enemy’s home, but you’re not the only reason. Of course he is looking for any extra information he can use against his enemies. 

It stings a little more than you’d like. 

Stepping further into the room, you swivel your gaze back and forth, looking for a sign of the slippery man himself. A master of shadows, Yoongi is only seen when he wants to be. Strange, for a fiend whose very nature is to be seen and devoured, to give and to receive, to lure and enjoy. Most of his life has been spent in spectacle, and now he spends it in the shadows. 

Warm breath brushes against the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. “I like this dress.” 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Yoongi’s callused fingers brush up your arm. It’s a ghost of touch but it makes your eyelids flutter shut, warmth thrumming in your stomach immediately. Unlike the incubus downstairs, you don’t feel a magnetic pull that is arcane here. You just feel the pull to Yoongi - a desire that is your own and fueled by nothing else. 

He has no reason to use his charm here. It makes you shiver as you lean backward into him, eager to feel the solidness of his chest and smell the sweet wine on his breath. 

“You always say that,” he purrs, the words low and scratchy. His other hand comes up to brush his fingers up and down your other arm, pulling you toward him full. You melt, fading into him faster than you should. “When will you learn that I will go wherever you are?” 

“Even if it means your own demise? You’re in the Citadel of Asmodeus.” 

“He’s killed me before.” Yoongi’s touch is more solid now, hands exploring your waist and curves, squeezing your flesh, pressing you against his waist. You rest the back of your head against his neck, inhaling cedarwood and sage. “I’m not so easily destroyed.” 

“Don’t.” 

You don’t want to recall the many times Yoongi has been wrenched away from you. Each time a little closer to permanence than the last. Time and time again, he has been ripped from your hands as your father attempts to destroy the fate linking you, to burn it until there is no tether there. 

“You’ve been good,” Yoongi notes. His hand goes to the silk strings on the side of your dress, pulling them undone. “He truly thinks you no longer think of me? That he has succeeded where he has failed a dozen times before?” 

“Yes.”

“His arrogance knows no bounds. He’ll think he’s a god, soon enough.”

You turn your head to the side, brushing your mouth against Yoongi’s. His lips are warm and taste of wine, urging your tongue to swipe across his bottom lip for a taste. “Is he not?” you ask against his mouth, fighting the need to shiver as one side of your dress falls open. “He rules the Nine Hells absolutely.” 

“Oh come off it,” He laughs. “You and I both know that isn’t true, otherwise he wouldn’t be in a civil war. Plus… I have recently acquired Avernus and Dis.” 

You straighten and turn around sharply to look at him, brows furrowing. For a moment, you forget what it is he’s said to shock you. You’re hypnotized by eyes dark enough that they reflect the stars when in the mortal world, a mouth that is soft and sensuous, a gentle, round nose that is opposed to the way he can turn it up at someone in a sneer. A faded scar over one eye - one of many that he's received over the years.

Yoongi is beautiful the way the moon is, distant and cold, but with a glow of softness that is often underestimated. 

You had made that mistake before. A long time ago, incubi and the lower creatures of the Nine Hells hadn’t been a blip on your radar. They were nothing to a princess of the Nine Hells, someone whose entire purpose for existing would be to one day step into ruling over all nine of the realms crushed in your father’s fist. 

Now, you know better. You’d been a silly, arrogant girl then, head filled with dreams of ruling over the dread cities and bringing the dukes and duchesses to heel. You’d never considered that perhaps your existence was more for appearances and leverage than anything else. 

A puppet. 

Belial, was, unfortunately, quite right about that. 

“What do you mean you have Avernus and Dis?”

“The skirmish in Phlegethos was a distraction. The dukes and duchess’ have been so frenzied about making sure they don’t have any disruptions in their rule that Belial scrambled to deal with his, turning his eye away from the others. Mammon… well you know Mammon. He is not a concern, for now. He cares little who holds Avernus and Dis.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I had help with Dis.”

That sours your stomach. “Bel.” 

“He has no love for Zariel. And he’s from Dis.”

“He’s a traitor. You’d do well not to trust him. Who knows when he’ll turn on you if promised something.”

“The Nine Hells are full of traitors.” Yoongi’s deft fingers undo the other side of your dress. “Including me. You think I would not sell out every single one of my fighters for you, hmm?” Yoongi presses a wet kiss to your jaw. You lean your head back to give him access to your throat. “You think I wouldn’t throw away being Kelemvor’s chosen and carrying his mantle for a chance to have you forever?” 

“You do have me.”

“Not in the way we are designed.” His voice is a growl as he bites at your throat, teeth scraping. You feel dizzy in his arms, but he holds you steadfast. “You were designed for me by the wheels of fate, and I for you. All of this - war, death, political scheming - it stands in our way and I would betray the god who gives me my many lives to cut to the chase in an instant.” 

The rage-laced words are an anger you’re familiar with. Two creatures born to exist for one another - more than fated mates. Your very existence tied to Yoongi’s is a matter of universal balance, two threads of fabric that must remain woven together, lest the realms collapse. 

Divine Scales. Two lives bound together that must remain in balance for the rest of the world to exist. You and Yoongi are not the only Divine Scales in the realms, but you’re perhaps one of the most difficult to balance in a world set on keeping you apart. 

You, the daughter of the Archduke of the Nine Hells. Yoongi, an incubus servant whose purpose was to lure, steal, and spy on behalf of Asmodeus. It was an unfit match that your father was set on destroying - his daughter an heir would not be tied to a lowly creature of lust and servitude. 

“Careful,” you murmur as Yoongi peels the fabric from your skin. The air is warm but you feel a shiver anyway, nipples pebbling at the temperature change. “Your god might not like to hear you say such things.”

“He is not my god,” Yoongi mutters. His eyes are hungry, burning with desire as he drinks you in, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips. “He is a convenience. I need power to take control of the Nine Hells, he gives me power. You are the only being I worship. The only goddess I recognize.” Yoongi sinks to his knees and your stomach flips. He looks up at you, lips parted and pupils blown, eyes so dark you could spill into them and never find your way. “Let me prove my devotion. Let me worship the only divinity I’ve ever known.”

Yoongi’s words are a spell on you, and not because he’s in an incubus, created and bred to be alluring and lead mortals to the Hells to give up their souls. Yoongi’s words have power because he is Yoongi, a being who he designed to be your other half. Another being you love so entirely that you intend to sacrifice the realm you call home, that you actively betray the people you’ve known since you were a child in order to be with him. 

These snatches with him are so few and far between. He fights a war against your father and his archdevils while you unravel them from the inside. Two knives carving away at the system which fights to keep you apart. 

You forget about all of the atrocities committed and to come. You push away the anxiety that Yoongi is thwarting his power by coming to the seat of his enemy’s power, just because he can and because he wants you. 

Instead, you focus on the way his mouth leaves wet kisses across your thighs. Yoongi’s fingers press into the back of your legs, holding you to him as his tongue lavs at a small scar on your hip, his teeth nipping the flesh.

Your world falls away as his tongue and mouth suck at your skin. Heat gathers between your legs, feeling the wet ache in your folds as Yoongi purposefully avoids going toward the apex of your thighs, instead showering your inner thighs, calves, and hips with soft kisses. 

Strong hands pry your legs apart. You let him slide your foot over, widening your stance easily. You cannot recall a single person you have ever been pliable for. You are the Whip of Asmodeous, a sharp weapon made to force subservience and delve out punishment. 

You are no whip in Yoongi’s hands. You are silk, sliding through his fingers as his mouth presses closer and closer to your heart. To everyone else, you are a weapon. To Yoongi, you’re just you. A mind to adore, a body to worship. 

Your knees threaten to buckle when the first, slow swipe of his tongue runs up your drenched folds. Yoongi chuckles, the sound throaty. Gently, he lifts a leg and pulls it over his shoulder, providing a counterweight as you stand but also giving him access to your aching cunt, pressing his face close as he licks you from hole to throbbing clit again. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, a hand shooting to his hair. Your fingers slide through soft, silk strands and twist, rooting him there. He groans in appreciation, focusing his tongue on slow, up-and-down licks, avoiding your clit as he works. “Fuck.” 

He hums, the feeling buzzing through your pussy as he closes his mouth over it, sucking gently. His mouth is wet and warm, tongue soft as it circles your aching bundle of nerves. Your legs feel gummy as you waver, holding onto him to keep yourself standing as much as you are to keep him in place.

Yoongi’s hunger can rarely be sated. He devours you, mouth eager as he sucks and licks at you, lips smacking loudly as he does. You barely register the obscene noise, canting your hips up into his mouth as the pleasure begins to build slowly. 

A hand presses into your ass, pressing you harder against the flat of his tongue. Yoongi opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, looking up at you with fucked out eyes as he urges you to fuck his face at your pace, to use him like a god would use a conduit. 

Yoongi is your conduit, and you are his. You vowed centuries ago to be his whip, a weapon at his command. He vowed to be your shield, your knife in the dark. 

The powers of the Hells would keep you apart. Beyond the impropriety that someone so lowborn could be fated for one of the highest powers among the infernals, the two of you together are too much of a threat. Too much power tied to one another, a divine match that cannot be broken.

Still, they try. 

The two of you have died before. Keeping you dead isn’t easy, though. Neither can truly die while the other lives and no one has quite managed to kill you both simultaneously - a familial crutch that Asmodeus cannot seem to overcome. 

You’d die every day to have this moment with Yoongi, your breath caught in your lungs, sweat beading on the small of your back, head tilted back as your heart beats so loud it's all you can hear. You feel every part of your body coil before there is a moment of white noise as your orgasm crests over, your cunt squeezing, your hand pulling his hair. 

Yoongi drinks you in like he cannot get enough. Gluttonous, ravenous man, pressing into your heat as he sucks. Your hands tug at his hair, the stimulation going from warm and fluid to sharp and biting. He grows a little when you pull his face back by the strands of his hair, a picture of madness with the lower half of his face covered in your slick, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused. 

You pull and he stands, knocking you back as he does. You stumble the remaining footsteps to your bed, mouths connecting in a tangle of teeth, tongue, spit and cum. You taste yourself on him, sucking his tongue greedily into his mouth as your hands claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. 

He complies, letting you push the shirt off his shoulders as he climbs over you, pressing a knee between your legs as he traps your lips in a searing kiss again. Your lips feel bruised where you kiss, his mouth demanding. His hands claw at your hips, pulling you down into his knee, grinding your slick cunt against his leg.

You let out a breathy sound, both from the feeling of pleasure blooming between your legs once again and the warmth of his skin, your hands rubbing across his chest, seeking to chase the inferno within. Yoongi has always been warm, but something hotter burns in him now. Something divine, vicious, and powerful lurking beneath his skin, the unlikely power of a god of death lurking just beneath the surface. 

You know that Kelemvor, the God of Death and Lord of Judgement has chosen Yoongi as a conduit of power because Yoongi seeks the balance of the world - he is a part of the balance of the world. His very existence is paramount to a deity whose very nature is to maintain the scales. 

It doesn’t stop you from wanting to eat away at the divinity under Yoongi’s skin, to drive out the influence that isn’t yours, to assert your dominance over a god and remind him that Yoongi does not belong to Kelemvor, he is not an extension of death. He belongs to you and you alone. 

It is an irrational, violent bout of jealousy that overtakes you for a moment. Your nails rake down his chest a little too hard, leaving trails of blood beneath. You bit his bottom lip a little too hard, the taste of iron and salt spilling into your mouth with his tongue. 

Yoongi smirks against your scarlet mouth, pulling back to look down at you. He knows what it is you seek. Yoongi always knows. Your minds are not connected, but your souls are and there is little you can hide from him. “You cannot rip him out of me, no matter how much you want to.” 

“I will try.” 

“Good.” He leans down and bites hard on your collarbone, making you gasp. “I will tear Asmodeous’ influence from you in kind.” 

Your hands are less harsh as you undo the laces of his pants, pulling them down powerful thighs. Your viciousness cools in the shower of the whisper of his love against your ear and the scrap of his tongue against your skin. Every single part of you burns hotter than the deepest part of the Hells, driven there by him alone. 

You love him - such a simple word could convey it accurately, anyway.

It seems too small of a word, unable to fit the fountain of want, desire, trust, and yearning that spills out of you into such a small cup. You don’t know if love can truly hold everything you feel for him, if it conveys that there is nothing god, archdevil, or fate that would stop you from being here with Yoongi, getting to touch him, to taste him, to whisper into his mouth as he presses the head of his cock into your weeping entrance. 

“You’re mine,” you gasp, rolling your hips forward to meet the slow, powerful strokes of his cock. Yoongi cradles you to him, his hands gripping you tighter as he presses your bodies together, as though you could meld. “Mine mine mine.” 

“I’m yours,” he agrees, voice throaty and strained. “Who else could I belong to?” 

You have no answer. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you move to his rhythm. Yoongi’s skin is heated and sticky as he moves against you. You feel his heartbeat in exact time with yours, twin rhythms. Your arms wind around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the muscle of his back and shoulder flex as he fucks you slowly, each stroke pointed and driving you to the edge again. 

Yoongi’s mouth brushes yours. You breathe in his air, unable to put anything else into words, thoughts consumed with him. With how he tastes, with how he smells, with how he feels. Nestled in the deepest part of you, you feel home. It is such a rare feeling, only discovered here like this, connected. 

It makes your breath catch, barely audible above Yoongi’s low groaning and the loud smack of skin against skin. Your heels dig into the bed, head pressing into the mattress as you throw your head back, unable to do anything but take what Yoongi is giving you. 

His pace quickens, slamming into your cunt with enough force to break you. But you do not break - you could never break with him. You squirm in his hold, babbling and panting and trying to breathe as he drives you to the edge of madness - and then you peak. 

A wild sound escapes you as you seize into him, muscles clenching, cunt spasming. Yoongi’s thrusts turn vicious, fucking you through your orgasm as you clench down on him with a vice grip. His fingers grip the back of your neck, pulling you toward his chest as he leans backward, your legs sliding as he seats you in his lap, fucking up into you. 

“Imagine thinking they could take you away from me,” Yoongi hisses. His thrusts are sloppy and hard, spearing you and sending you hurtling right toward the edge again. You submit to him, head lolling to the side as he takes you. “Imagine thinking that you could defy a prewritten fate that you are mine, that you are anything less than what was made for me.” 

A sob slips through your lips. You cannot think of a response, only able to cling to him as though to say yes. 

“They cannot take you away from me,” he growls. “I will destroy this world again and again if they try. They cannot sunder what is here, they cannot rip you away from me any more than you can rip the stars from the sky.” 

Just as you begin to teeter on the edge, Yoongi slams his hips home, clenching as he comes. “You cannot be anything else but mine.”

It sends you hurling over the edge again, so powerful that you forget where you are for a moment. It is intoxicating, this bliss that unfurls like the flowers of a petal. Nothing exists here but calm water and the scent and taste of Yoongi. There is no war here. No fight to keep you apart. No demands, no expectations. It’s just you and him. Like it was always meant to be. 

Slowly, awareness creeps back toward you. It is a lumbering, lazy thing. You only feel somewhat aware that you’re in a bed and that you feel the heat of Yoongi next to you, the press of his mouth against your shoulder. The aftereffects of sleeping with an incubus are not lost on you, even as a powerful infernal. 

Everything feels melted, like it could fall through your fingers like grains of sand. Perhaps you could float away if you tried, but Yoongi grounds you. The feeling of his hand on your hip and his mouth on your skin is the most solid thing that exists in this world in between, keeping you tethered to something real. Something substantial. 

When you blink away the sticky high of the post-orgasm daze, Yoongi is watching you with soft, round eyes. The burning desire is still there, but at the forefront is adoration. Worship. Love. Anything stronger than words can describe. 

“Are you okay?” he kisses your jaw before drawing back to examine your face. You nod, head heavy. “Too much?”

“No. Not with you. Never with you.” 

His mouth twitches like he’s unsure. You nestle closer to him, closing your eyes as you’re cupped in the safety of his presence. “With Avernus and Dis at your command, you can take Phlegethos,” you murmur. “Mammon will give you Minauros if you can do that.” 

“Hmm.” 

Your eyes flutter open, watching as Yoongi closes his. You can tell by the twitch in his mouth that he is thinking. “I will deliver you Phlegethos.” He cracks an eye open and looks at you, seeing the hunger that burns there. “Belial needs a good whip to put him in place.” 

“The Whip of Asmodeous?” 

“No.” You grin. “The Whip of Kelemvor’s Chosen.” 

[konigsblog]

was scrolling through your blog and noticed a post where you said kruger would use your fears against you and now i have a funny idea

i'm deathly afraid of horseshoe crabs. fucking terrified. i hate them so much but the idea of him just tying me up and forcing me to look at google images of them is fucking sending me

i wish i didn't look that up 😞

but, kidnapper!krueger will 100% use your fears against you to get you listening, or to have you obedient and respectful.

he won't hesitate to sit you in his lap, gag you and bound your wrists together with rope. he forces you to keep your eyes open, otherwise he'll take it a step further and try buying something to get you listening

scared of spiders? he won't get rid of any house spiders, and might just go buy one to have it crawl all over you before crunching it with his boot.

scared of the dark? he'll lock you in the basement without a light, without anything. he might just go out of his way to sneak downstairs and jumpscare you until you're crying, apologising and telling him you'll be good !!

scared of horseshoe crabs? he'll go buy one and force you to be in the same room. maybe then you'll think twice about running off.

kidnapper!könig will scold krueger and hold you in his arms, letting you sob into chest while rubbing your back and glaring at krueger for being so, so cruel...

[ivrxquack]

Cod x reader reasons why you shouldn’t sleep with the cod boys

Ghost

Mumbles your name

war nightmares

Paranoia of someone taking you from him while he’s sleep so he has a death grip on your hand

Dainty princess konig

Stares at you for no reason which wakes you up at night

Pees every hour and he always makes a loud noise

Falls out of bed on accident since he’s so big

Kruger

Likes to eat the bed bugs as mid night snacks

Sleeps with his eyes open always facing you

Takes pictures of you while sleep

Horangi

Pees every hour and drags you with him cause he’s scared of the dark

Goes on his phone randomly

Whines in his sleep

Gaz

Sleep fights

Hogs the blanket

Always wants to be super close to you

Keegan

Makes out with you while you’re sleep

Wakes up at like 4 naturally

Watches you most of the night