Boyfriend To Death - Tumblr Posts
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA
okay but. literally-
original pic idk the artist :(
эх как же хочется няшненького худенького нецелованного лисомальчика к себе в подвал
please gtfo of btd fandom
why 😔😔😔 okay guys if you see this i dont condone the stuff in the game i mostly like the characters.. by stuff i mean the grape .. cause theyre fictional. fictional murderers exist guys!!! and idc that im a minor like.. its just an interest of mine because i enjoy the gameplay and characters designs... anyway tell that to my friend who obsesses over irl murderers! which is worse? you tell me!!
Stay With Me
masterlist
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 2027
Summary: Zoya takes care of a sick Nikolai, who happens to be down with the flu.
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The fierce winter winds howled outside, as Nikolai Lantsov lay in his bed, pale and feverish. The once vibrant and indomitable king now appeared frail, his skin flushed and clammy, his breath coming in labored gasps. The room was cold, despite the roaring fire in the hearth, the chill seeping through the stone walls and biting at Zoya's skin.
Zoya stood by his side, her expression a mask of composure that hid the turmoil within. She had seen him wounded before, seen him on the brink of death more times than she cared to count, but this was different. This was an enemy she couldn’t fight, an illness that didn’t respond to her powers or to any remedy they could find.
"Nik," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the wind. "You need to rest."
Nikolai’s eyes fluttered open, and he managed a weak smile. "Rest is for the dead, my dear," he replied, his voice hoarse. "And I am not quite there yet."
Zoya’s heart clenched at his words. "Don’t say that," she said sharply, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. "You’re going to get better."
He reached out a trembling hand, covering hers with a touch that was both comforting and heartbreaking. "Zoya," he said softly, "we both know that’s not true. The healers have done all they can, and even you…" He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
Zoya looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She had tried everything, pouring all her power into him, but nothing worked. The flu was relentless, a silent killer that showed no mercy.
"I can't lose you," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Nikolai squeezed her hand gently. "You are stronger than you know," he said. "And Ravka needs you. You’ve always been the strength behind the throne, Zoya. You can lead them without me."
"I don’t want to lead without you. You are the heart of Ravka."
He smiled then; a ghost of his usual grin. "Then you’ll have to be its heart and soul."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to be strong for him, for Ravka, for herself. "I don’t know how to do this without you," she admitted.
"You’ll find a way," he assured her. "You always do."
Hours passed, the night dragging on in a haze of fever and whispered conversations. Nikolai spoke of plans and contingencies, of allies and enemies, trying to prepare her for a future without him.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he knew it was necessary. He had to make sure she would be alright, even if he wasn’t there to see it.
"You know, when I’m gone, you should really redecorate this room. Maybe something less gloomy. Brighten it up a bit."
Zoya rolled her eyes, despite the ache in her chest. "Stop talking like that," she said, her voice hard. "You’re not going anywhere."
"Always the optimist," he chuckled weakly. "But seriously, Zoya. Promise me you’ll take care of things. Of yourself. Of Ravka."
"I promise," she said, her voice trembling. "But I’m not giving up on you. You’re too stubborn to die from something as mundane as the flu."
"I do like to make a grand exit," he admitted with a tired smile. "But just in case, you should know… I trust you. More than anyone. You’ll make a fantastic queen."
Zoya’s breath caught in her throat. "Don’t you dare," she whispered fiercely. "Don’t you dare leave me."
His eyes softened, and he reached up to touch her cheek. "I wish I didn’t have to," he said. "But you’ll be alright. You’re the strongest person I know."
She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes against the flood of emotions. "You’re not allowed to die, Nikolai Lantsov," she said, her voice breaking. "I forbid it."
He tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a fit of coughing that left him gasping for breath. "Is that an order, my Queen?" he managed to choke out between coughs.
"Yes," she replied, her voice trembling as she handed him a cloth to wipe his mouth. "An order from your queen."
His smile faded, replaced by a look of profound sadness. "I wish I could obey," he said softly. "But some things are beyond even a privateer’s control."
The night dragged on, and Nikolai grew weaker, his breathing more labored. Zoya stayed by his side, refusing to leave him even for a moment. She held his hand, whispered reassurances, and tried to keep the fear at bay.
Nikolai's coughs continued to grow frequent through the night, each one more violent than the last. The sound echoed through the room, a harsh reminder of the relentless grip of his illness. Zoya clung to his hand, trying to pour her strength into him, but she could feel him slipping away.
The room seemed to close in around them, the walls a silent witness to their anguish.
"Stay with me," she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. "Just a little longer."
Nikolai's eyes flickered open, and he managed a faint smile. "I'm trying," he coughed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's hard, Zoya. So hard."
She brushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead, her touch tender despite the turmoil inside her. "You have to keep fighting," she said, her voice fierce. "For me. For Ravka."
He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "I'm so tired," he admitted. "I don't know if I can."
Zoya's heart clenched at his words. She had never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so close to giving up. She had to be strong for him, had to keep him grounded in the world of the living.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to be strong for him, had to show him that she could carry on. "I can't lose you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Not now. Not ever."
His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her with a mixture of love and sadness. "You won't lose me," he said softly. "I'll always be with you. In your heart."
The minutes stretched into an eternity, the night closing in around them. Each cough wracked Nikolai's body, leaving him weaker, his breaths more labored. Zoya's heart ached with every labored inhale, every painful exhale.
"Do you remember," she said softly, trying to distract him from the pain, "the night we first met?
Nikolai's lips twitched in a faint smile. "I remember," he said, his voice barely audible. "You saw right through me."
"And you never gave up," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You fought for Ravka, for all of us."
His eyes opened, and for a moment, there was clarity in his gaze. "Promise me you'll keep fighting, even when I'm gone."
A sob caught in her throat, but she forced it down. She had to be strong for him, had to keep him grounded in the world of the living.
"I promise," she said, her voice breaking. "But you're not gone yet, Nikolai. Stay with me. Please."
"Zoya, I. .. I love you."
The words broke something inside her, and she felt tears spill down her cheeks. "I love you too." She leaned over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his burning forehead. "So much. Please, don't leave me."
He gripped her strong hands with his pale and trembling fingers and pressed her knuckles to his lips. "Be strong," he whispered, "for me."
And then, with a quiet exhale, Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka, grew still. His hand went limp in hers, and Zoya felt a profound emptiness settle in the room.
He was gone.
Gone.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She stared at his still form, unable to comprehend the reality of his death.
"No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, please. Come back. Please, Nikolai."
But there was no response, no sign of life. The man who had been her anchor, her strength, was gone, leaving her alone in a world that suddenly felt unbearably empty.
She clung to him, her tears falling onto his lifeless chest. "You promised," she sobbed. "You promised you wouldn't leave me."
She couldn't contain her grief any longer. She screamed.
She screamed, a guttural cry that echoed through the room and mingled with the howling wind outside. It was a raw, primal sound of loss and anguish, carried away by the winds that seemed to mourn with her.
Outside, the storm raged on.
Zoya's heart felt shattered, her entire being consumed by the void left in Nikolai's absence. She collapsed beside his bed, her sobs wracking her body.
Eventually, the healers came, their faces solemn as they gently took Nikolai's body away. Zoya stood frozen, her eyes fixed on Nikolai's still form, unable to fully grasp the finality of his absence.
She watched them go mechanically, her movements slow and deliberate, as though moving through thick fog. The world seemed to move around her, but Zoya felt suspended in a moment that refused to end.
It was Genya's gentle touch on her shoulder that finally broke through the haze. Zoya turned to her, tears streaming down her face.
"We need to go," Genya said softly, her voice breaking the silence that enveloped them.
Zoya nodded wordlessly, allowing Genya to guide her out of the room.
Each step felt heavy with the weight of the loss. As they walked away from Nikolai's bedside, Zoya couldn't shake the feeling that a part of her had been left behind with him.
Outside, the morning light filtered through the windows, casting a somber glow over the palace halls.
"Zoya, we need you. Ravka needs you."
Zoya took a deep breath, steeling herself against the pain. She had promised Nikolai she would be strong, that she would carry on. She couldn't let him down.
"I know," she said, her voice steady despite the tears still streaming down her face. "I'll be there."
Genya nodded silently. She knew this feeling.
"I remember when David..." Genya began softly, her voice carrying the weight of her own memories. "When he died, it felt like the world had stopped. Like I couldn't breathe without him."
Zoya looked at her, gratitude mingling with her grief. "How did you do it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you cope with it?"
Genya sighed, her eyes reflecting the pain of her past loss. "At first, I didn't cope. I just existed, moving through the days because I had to. But then I realized... David wouldn't want me to just exist. He would want me to live, to find purpose again."
Zoya listened intently, drawing strength from Genya's words. "And did you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Genya nodded, a small smile touching her lips despite the sadness in her eyes. "It took time, Zoya. Time and the support of friends like you. I found solace in helping others, in channeling my grief into something meaningful."
"You did everything you could," She murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from Zoya's tear-streaked face. "He knew that. Nikolai knew."
"But it wasn't enough," Zoya whispered, her voice filled with anguish.
Zoya swallowed hard. "I want to honor Nikolai's memory," she admitted, her voice wavering. "But right now, I don't know how."
Genya reached out, squeezing Zoya's hand gently. "You will," she said with quiet conviction. "In your own time, in your own way. And until then, I'll be here for you, just like you were there for me."
They stood together in the alcove, the two women bound by grief and resilience.
As the morning light grew brighter outside, casting long shadows on the palace walls, Zoya felt a flicker of determination ignite within her.
She would carry on for Nikolai, for Ravka, and for herself, knowing that though his physical presence was gone, his legacy would endure in the strength of those who loved him. With Genya beside her, offering silent support and understanding, Zoya took a deep breath, ready to face the challenges ahead with newfound resolve and purpose.
busy thinking abt ren giving mc a womb tattoo...
uhh dad strade x fem reader drabble or short fic? make it as gross as you want. hope you’re having a good day :)
PAPA
{ dad! strade x adult daughter! reader }
word count: 880
warnings/tags: INCEST, age gap (18+ reader), molestation, alcohol use, descriptions of blood, violence, oral mutilation, and decapitation, poorly translated german lol
You live blissfully unaware of the horrors lurking just beneath the surface of your father's life, drawn instead to his charm and rough affection. Even as an adult, you seek comfort in his embrace, climbing onto his lap where you feel the familiar outline of his knife sheath against your back. The weight of his large, calloused hand rests reassuringly on your hip, and in these moments, you feel only safety and love. Unbeknownst to you, the same hand that holds you close could, with chilling ease, end your life.
Consumed with lustful thoughts, your father gazes down at your body, imagining all the ways he could destroy it. His rough fingertips reach to trace the curve of your stomach through your shirt, his breath hot against your neck. He imagines pulling out every one of your teeth, tasting your blood as it drips down your chin, and licking away your salty tears as you cry out in agony. He wants to hear you scream and feel you struggle as he stifles your sounds with his cock, shoving it deep into your gummy, bloody mouth.
But above all else, he wants to take your head. He helped bring you into this world, after all, and he insisted on being the architect of your departure. In his darkest fantasies, he envisions the satisfying thud of your head as it strikes the basement floor, followed by the crimson tide of your blood, warmly spilling, seeping into the rough, porous concrete beneath.
Fuelled by alcohol, his hand squeezes your flesh roughly, causing you to wince as sharp waves of pain ripple through you.
"You are so beautiful, Mein Schatz," he murmurs, "Just like your mother…" His fingers press roughly into your flesh, causing you to wince as sharp waves of pain ripple through you. You try to wriggle away but his grip tightens, anchoring you in place.
"Oh, don't be like that," he breathes, his voice a soft, velvet purr that belied the sharpness in his eyes. "Don't you want to feel how much your old man loves you?". He asks, his hand sliding down between your legs. You try to protest, but your words are smothered by his free hand tightening over your mouth. He paws at your thinly-dressed crotch, seemingly deaf to your whines and enraptured by the warm sensation of your skin.
His fingers tremble slightly, the alcohol undermining the steadiness of his grip on your face. In his clouded mind, he thinks of a myriad of ways to end your life—each more lingering and excruciating than the last. Yet impatience whispers to him, suggesting he could end it all now, right here on this couch. The thought curls his lips into a sinister smile as he imagines the swift draw of his blade across your tender throat, releasing sanguineous rivulets that pour down your front and stain the fabric beneath.
He withdraws his hand, the touch lingering like a shadow as it slides from between your legs and back to your torso. "You know, I always thought about what it'd be like to have a daughter," he murmurs, his voice low and thick with a twisted mirth. "And I got one, didn't I?" His fingers crawl higher, skittering across your ribs before they hook around the edge of your bra. "You were such a pretty thing, so quiet and sweet. I'd just watch you for hours."
You shudder under his gaze, locked into his intense stare. His face shows pure love and adoration, yet hides something sinister beneath that bleeds through each touch. It’s as if he’s two people rolled into one and you can’t tell which is real.
He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear, his words a whisper laced with menace. "But you grew up, didn’t you? You became a woman, and oh, how things changed." His eyes, predatory and cold, scan your face as he pauses. "I told myself I wanted to keep you safe, to shield you from the horrors of the world," he continues, pressing his fingers deeper, pinning you with a force that shatters his protective guise. "But the one you need saving from is me."
Your eyes widen with fear and confusion as you squirm against the heat of his embrace and the confinement of his arms. He watches you silently, curiously, pondering your thoughts and feelings. Yet instead of releasing you, he draws even closer, his breath unsettlingly warm against your face. "Mein süßes Mädchen," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face with deliberate slowness. "I've always wondered how you'd look splayed out on my workbench... I'm just dying to know what's inside that pretty little head of yours..."
Your heart flutters as he speaks again, his voice low and hypnotic. You try to reply, but the words snag in your throat. His eyes gleam with eagerness as he observes your panicked struggle.
Then, with a contrived snicker, he shakes his head. "Oh, you should see your face!" he exclaims, his fingers darting out to tickle you. "You’re so easy to scare!" His laughter rings out again, hollow and disconcerting. You try to laugh along, but it comes out as a strangled gasp, hanging in the air as your father's chuckles continue to echo around you.
Ren's new design is just 🤌🤌
His name is Naja, he's a surgeon who Ren grew fond of and now they work together
Guys, does anyone know what kind of room this is? I don't remember her being mentioned in the gameplay, and I haven't heard Gato mention her in any way. Maybe it's part of the apartment next door, but it looks like the door opens into Lawrence's apartment. + if this is his room, why did he block the door with a table?
Finally, I did some fanart 😋 will I do more who knows
I like the fox cub Ren no less😏 Well, guys, the last day of the year, happy New year there, happiness, go cut salads, I love you. 🥰