I Love Your Works Sm! , Looking Forward To Read More But Also Don't Forget To Take Quality Rests For
I love your works sm! š«, looking forward to read more but also don't forget to take quality rests for yourself! š
More Posts from Aft3rhrs
Stepdad Joon is just chilling in my drafts instead of popping onto the dead dove masterlist for literally no reason... except the fact that everyone seems to want this storyline with someone else ā ļø
I forgot how filthy this was, goodbye
... ā ļø
this feeling
Summary | How could he go on? how could you do this to him? You can't leave him now, he'll make sure of it.
Warnings | explicit blood/gore, death, grief, cannibalism in the name of love and grief
Note | just a little something to get started writing again. granted this is pretty different from my other sweet home wips <3 thinking I'll start working on the Myeong request someone sent it next
sweet home wips + masterlist
This feeling? It was new, wasnāt it?
He had run back to your room the moment the monster disappeared. He had fallen to his knees so hard he thought heād broken every bone in them. How? His lip quivered, how could this happen when he was supposed to be the one protecting you?
You had made it this far, even without him stalking behind you, you had proven time and again that you wanted to live. That you deserved to live. Now what? You were dead now because he wasnāt able to keep you safe from just two monsters? Two stupid little monsters- pathetic little beasts that seemed so mundane. Too easy to deal with compared to everything else.Ā
Why was there so much blood? Hyunsu tried to stand, but couldnāt. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe he was just upset to do anything by crawling with shaking hands toward your body. āHey,ā He called out quietly, āyouāre still there, right? Say something.ā His hands slipped in blood, his pants soaked as he settled beside you. āYouāre still breathing,ā he says in a desperate matter of face tone. How could you be gone completely? You still had to say goodbye, tell him that he did his best and that it was okay. Youād be better off, that he had to go on for you and every other predictable line.
He kneeled there, stomach in knots. Sick to his stomach, your dull eyes unfocused and staring away from him. Carefully he caressed your face, turning you to him and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He closed your eyes, brushing his fingers over your face. He was glad at least, that your face wasnāt split and bleeding like the rest of you was. He could take in your features, though not as bright as before.
He wet his lips nervously, what should he do? He bent down, hesitant at first, but sipping low enough to press his lips to yours one last time. What a shame the two of you had only gotten to kiss once. It had been a small, shy peck a few nights ago. āThis isnāt fairā he muttered, whimpering as he thought about what to do next. He kissed you again, and again, more feverish each time. Just wake up one more time, let him love you how he shouldāve. Let him cast his weariness aside and grip your skin with love and no fear.
He exhaled, running his hands over his pants and looking around again. Something was happening inside him. A swirling, spiraling feeling was poking his mind. Why was he feeling this way? Why was the horror of your body dulling in his eyes? Why was drool pooling in his mouth; why was he leaning down to drag his tongue over the gash in your arm?Ā
He shook his head, laughing at himself for a moment. Seriously? Now? Why was that thing inside his head talking to him? Saying nothing but everything at the same time. No words, just a feeling. A desire.
This feeling; had it always been in him?
This feeling, twisting and festering inside his stomach like parasites.
His eyes traced down to your stomach. There was a large tear in your skin, blood was still running slowly from him. He wondered if it had been that one, or the one in your chest. He moves down, he canāt help it. He takes a bite. Just one.
Then another, and another, until he couldnāt stop himself,
Its tenderness, its shellfish. It's good, it's feeding the thing inside of him. It's feeding the hole in his chest. He was blinded by desire, his fingers twisted inside you. Pulling you apart with care. Heās blind, his eyes are black, heās lost but painfully aware. He felt disgusting, but what else was he supposed to do? You werenāt supposed to leave him. He was alone now, because of you. Nothing is going to let you get away. Not the blood, not the tearing of skin, or the labored breaths between crying and gnawing. He loved you so much, it was consuming him. The grief was devouring him, blinding him, pushing him to this. He wanted you, to be close now that you were gone. Why hadnāt be been able to before you were gone? Why couldnāt he of conquered his fears, why hadnāt this feeling come sooner?Ā
It's not enough. The taste just makes him hungrier. He needed more, his skin pressed to yours. His mouth was full, the lingering scent of you staining his being.
He looked at you one more time. How his teeth had shredded you so easily, the sensation of flesh sliding down his throat. The sight of blood sweeping away. Your blood; he had to lick up your blood. You had to say with him. This was love, this was how he would love you. Sitting there, kneeling in desperation. Worshiping the spot your body had fallen.
Blood poured from his lips, his skin stained as it dripped onto his clothes and the floor. His jaw was lax, chest heaving again as he tried to steady his breathing.Ā To love is to consume, but to consume is to devour and change. Did he want to change? Did he want you to change? Could anyone change any more?Ā It's gentle and tender, the way he licked the blood from your skin and covered you with his jacket.Ā
Breathlessly he lay there, looking over your body, to your face. āIām sorryā he whimpered, āIām sorry I hurt you more, I just couldnātā¦I neededā¦ā He couldnāt finish the thought.
He was hungry still. It's insatiable. Would it ever end?