#dove does events

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Chapter 3

Three are now dead, but the killer seems to be caught ... but this night is not over until the room is found.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Silver, Cater Diamond

Content; Unreliable narrators, murder mystery

Content Warning; Death, murder, blood, anxiety, kidnapping, overall dead dove content warnings

Word Count; 1.1 K

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Link to the Google Form to vote!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

The body count had risen to three; Dire Crowley, the Ramshackle Prefect (whose blood still stained the floor, the iron scent permeating the air), and now, Divus Crewel as well, the latest victim. One minute the professor was alive, shaking from anger that one of his students was killed on his watch and that he was the prime suspect of the killings. But now he was sprawled out on the ground, killed in an instant.

The remaining students — Vil, Rook, Azul, Jade, Silver, and Cater — were silent, processing what exactly had just happened. The lights had flickered only for a minute, and in that minute, the killer had struck. But the silence was broken by a deafening clap of thunder, lightning illuminating the windows, and bringing everyone back to the present, to their laughably horrible situation that they had found themselves in by sheer chance and bad luck and timing.

Silver sat down on the staircase, and put his head in between his legs, taking deep breaths. Despite his training, he did not consider that he would be witnessing death so soon. The small part of his brain that had a sliver of hope that his friend had survived their gruesome injury, but he was just lying to himself; no one could survive that.

Vil was pacing, hands clasped behind his back, and he was muttering to himself. He thought he could read people, what with being raised amongst the stars that hid behind too-sweet smiles that belied venomous words. What was there to gain from any of this?

Rook was cracking his knuckles, and then rubbing his eyes, trying to think of why this was happening. While he could appreciate the hunt, this was something entirely different. Yet, it also reminded him of several books; one being a murder mystery, and the other about the deadliest game, of hunting a fellow person.

Azul was shaking and biting his nails, his resolve long gone. Had he made himself the enemy of one of his peers? Was he going to be next? He was supposed to just be perfecting a potion recipe for the next test, yet he found himself way above his head.

Jade looked at Azul, taking in that his house warden and friend was shaking more than the leaves outside in the howling wind. He too was disturbed by the night's events, sick to his stomach even, but he couldn’t show weakness, especially if he wanted to see it through.

And Cater? He was paler than a ghost, a cold sweat glistening on his forehead, and he felt like his heart was going to leap out of his throat. His cheery smile had left long ago, and now panic was fully starting to take control. Why? Why? Whywhywhy? WHY?! Yet he stayed silent.

No one spoke, but they eyed each other with caution. Every time that they had went to the mirror and they voted through it, someone died. Was it the mirror? No… no, that didn’t make sense… None of this made any sense though. 

“No more votin-” Silver whispered.

Cater cracked his head around, green eyes judging every move the underclassman made. “And why’s that, Silver?” His voice was shaky, but Cater wasn’t trusting him or anyone for that matter. “Afraid that-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Vil barked, commanding everyone’s attention, eyes all on him. But he was used to eyes being on him, and he stayed cool, despite how this may damn him into being guilty in their eyes. He didn’t care at the moment though, all he cared about was no one else dying. “Look at what being suspicious of each other has brought us,” his eyes wandered to the dark clotted blood that had now gone cold. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, keeping the calm mask up. “I agree with Silver though; voting through the mirror only ends up with someone… dead.”

“Then how do we proceed, Roi du Poison?” Rook asked, falling to his house warden’s side. His eyes looked over everyone, picking up their behaviours, emotions, and any tells.

Azul’s head snapped up. “The potion-” he started muttering to himself, before clearing his throat and gaining his composure again. “A truth potion, but one that shows the truth about the situation, we can use that to find the killer.”

Cater looked at Silver, and offered him his hand; a peace offering. Silver took it, and brought himself up on wobbly knees. A truce.

Jade placed his hand on Azul’s shoulder, offering him a bit of comfort that not everyone was out to get him. “Was that what you were working on?”

Azul nodded, and he started making his way towards the alchemy lab, where hopefully they could put an end to the killer’s little charade once and for all.

…

…

Vil helped Azul make the potion, and both students kept a keen eye on the other, but they made it without incident. And to show the others that they hadn’t tampered with it at all, they took it first, with the others shortly following suit.

“What about the room?” Silver asked.

“We can figure that out once we find the killer,” Jade countered.

Everyone looked at each other, taking in any minute details, but everyone was calm; the potion apparently did wonders to calm the nerves… but that in itself was a dangerous effect, since now everyone’s guards were down, making them easy targets.

Vil took in a breath and released it. “Who killed Dire Crowley? Why did you then kill the Prefect, and then Professor Crewel?” 

But no one spoke up.

“It isn’t me,” Vil said confidently, hoping that his speaking up prompted the others to follow suit.

Cater was to his left, and he spoke next. “I didn’t do it.”

Then Silver, “Or me… I couldn’t do something like this…”

“I did not do it either,” Jade offered.

Azul’s eyes went wide, and he eyed the next person in line. “The killer isn’t me.”

All eyes fell on the last person left in their little circle; Rook. With all of them but him left, that only left him.

He let out a throaty, quiet, chuckle. “I suppose this game has run its course,” he tipped his hat to them, green eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. “As for why? Hmmm,” he hummed, and the hairs on everyone’s necks stood on end. There was something off about Rook, this wasn’t Rook. 

“You’ll find that out when you guess the room.”

What?

Everyone took a step closer to each other, away from Rook, and they whispered amongst each other, voting on what room Crowley’s murder took place in.

“Alchemy lab,” Cater spoke for the group, trying to keep his resolve as Rook seemed to stare into the very contents of his soul, like he was searching for something.

Rook stepped forward, still smiling. “Ah, désolé Monsieur Magicam,” the whites of his eyes started turning black, “but you would be wrong.” The lights flickered again, and in the seconds of darkness, Rook was gone, and so was Cater.

GOOGLE FORM (voting will end Wednesday, October 18th at 9pm EST)

SUSPECTS:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard) MURDERER - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach) MISSING

ROOMS:

- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2) - Teachers’ lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab (eliminated in Chapter 3) - Library - Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)

WEAPON: MAGIC (found in Chapter 2)

…

To be continued

[dove-da-birb]

Mutual Favouritism

Just curious if anyone would like to be tagged in my 100-follower event for my writing blog @da-birb-writes-sometimes. Mutuals will always get special treatment when it comes to events.

Just put in the comments if you would like to be tagged, I should be posting the event tomorrow (July 22).

[plantswithme]

sambucky instagram posts part 5/?

part 1 — part 2 — part 3 — part 4

[illputdownmyrootswhenimdead]

the internet is a stupid place because you can see someone get accused of "openly supporting child porn" just because they like. post their works on ao3

[redbuddi]

What we know about the missing Sub

For whatever reason this story has absolutely grabbed my attention, and so I will be compiling the information that I can confirm in a decent timeline of events, feel free to message me if y'all feel like something needs to be changed/revised

A company known as OceanGate offers dives to view the wreck of the Titanic, charging 250,000 USD per ride. This sub is not approved by any regulatory body, and is controlled with an xbox controller. The inside is a small tube one would have to sit down to fit inside.

It is not a regular sub, but a submersible, which does not have the power to lauch itself and return on it's own, but instead must be launched and retrieved by a mothership. Thus, constant communication is of the utmost importance.

4 AM, June 18th, an expedition begins. Confirmed passengers are a pilot, a "Content Expert," Businessman Hamish Harding (who posted the linked instragram post,) and two other passengers who are as yet unconfirmed.

Communications with the sub are lost 1 hour and 45 minutes into the dive.

The US and Canadian coast guard begin working together to try and find the sub. The vessel has an advertised 96 hours of oxygen.

The instagram post earlier is found by CNN, although they do not yet divulge who posted it. They reach out to OceanGate for comment and get none.

An additional vessel is dispatched to assist in the search.

The US Coast Guard holds a press conference where they discuss the difficulties in locating the vessel in the remote area it dove into.

Coast Guard surmises that there is 70 to 96 hours of oxygen remaining, although this was reported abt ten hours ago, so it's more like 60 to 86 now.

The coast guard also begins a twitter thread which they are continually updating. They have completed two flights over the area but have not found anything, they will dispatch another plane in the morning.

OceanGate claims to be taking "every step possible" to recover the missing vessel.

Twitter user Kenny Sharpe realizes that he had seen the vessel being towed out to it's expedition and posts photos that he took.

LITERALLY FOUND THIS AS I WAS GETTING SOURCES, Daily Mail claims that the other two passengers are businessman Shahzada Dawood and his son, but given DM's dubious journalistic integrity (to put it nicely,) I would take this claim with a grain of salt until other sources confirm it.

I will update this as more info becomes available, feel free to message me with sources if you know anything.

[solarpunkani]

You know what, while I'm doing hot takes. And this one may be obvious considering I'm actively contributing to hosting the Solarpunk Aesthetic Week event but like.

Dear everyone who's constantly deriding the aesthetic portions of the solarpunk movement/genre; do you just not understand that being able to visualize the future you want is immensely important to being able to work towards it? Being able to get other people on board with it?

When I first got interested in Solarpunk, it wasn't for the hot leftist takes about the top ways to dismantle the government for the people, or top tips on how to build your own solar panel apparatuses. What brought me in? Visions of a hopeful future. I learned and began to love the rest as I dove deeper into solarpunk circles, but there is no denying that my first intro to it--and likely many people's first intro to it--was via the art and aesthetic spheres. The term 'solarpunk' was literally coined to refer to the aesthetic movement, and we've been building up from there ever since.

'When are people going to realize the aesthetic parts don't matter and what really matters is praxis--' dude, the aesthetic parts do matter. Inspiring people does matter. Showing people visions of a hopeful future is immensely important, it's why so many people join this movement. We see glimpses of what a hopeful future could look like, through beautiful art or riveting stories, we're inspired by things like stained glass and organic designs and statues and fashion concepts--and then we think to ourselves 'how can we help make this future happen?' And we learn the praxis and we work towards the goals and we share it with others because that's just how we work.

Seeing isn't always believing, but sometimes in order to believe in something with your whole heart, it helps to be able to visualize what you want. For yourself and for others.

So yes. The aesthetic parts of solarpunk do matter. Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

[blindmagdalena]

The Drug In Me Is You

18+ 3.2k vampire!homelander x supe f!reader. dacryphilia, noncon, p-in-v, blood drinking, possessive homelander, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac, cunnilingus, fingering, kidnapping, reader is held captive, gaslighting, abuse. dead dove!

Ever since Homelander got his cold dead hands on you, you've been the answer to his every prayer. You exist solely for him, kept safe in his home, delicious to the point where he refuses any blood that isn't yours. He isn't conscious of the extent he's grown to rely on you until the day he comes home to find you gone.

written for Monsterlander Mania! thank you @staarboyyy for the incredible vamplander gif. 🖤

There are few things that Homelander despises more in this world than summer. While the heat doesn’t bother him even beneath the thick layers of his suit, the rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

The meet and greets are by far the worst; a crowded collection of sweaty bodies piling in against one another like directed cattle, stewing in their own filth just long enough to reek of their own humanity by the time they’re touching him with clammy hands.

He’s never more grateful for his suit–especially his gloves–than during these occasions.

On top of that, these sardine can buildings become an echoing cacophony of juicy, throbbing hearts, every single one of them pounding in eager anticipation. Indoor events are better for blocking out the sun, but worse for every other aspect when it comes to his senses.

By the end of the day, his skull is throbbing and his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He needs quiet. He needs home. He needs to eat.

It’s dark by the time he lands on his balcony, the hour late. While he does prefer flying at night, he doesn’t like coming home so late. He tugs off his glove to use the thumbpad, which unlocks his automatic door. Stepping inside, he then hits a switch that triggers his blackout blinds to close behind him alongside the door.

“What a fucking day,” he grouses, making his way to the kitchen. “Twelve hours of this shit. I hate summer,” he says, tossing both of his gloves onto the kitchen counter. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a dark, thick green slurry in a tall lidded cup. It’s packed full of everything he both needs and likes, but perhaps most important is the iron content.

He goes through a fair amount of that.

“But I’m glad I’m home,” he says, carrying both beverages to his bedroom. “Because it looks like someone didn’t drink their shake.”

Homelander stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his empty bed. Standing perfectly still, he listens for the familiar cadence of your breath. The beat of your heart. Anything to tell him where the fuck you are. When he hears nothing, he drops the drinks unceremoniously to the floor and spins on his heel, instantly tearing through the penthouse.

He doesn’t smell blood or death, but the thought of you dead seizes him anyways, hurling him instantly into a panic. He scans through every wall and ceiling, but you’re not here. He calls your name, shouting it down each hall, but he’s met only with the reverberations of his own distraught voice.

At the front door, Homelander moves to input the code to open it, but halts abruptly. The panel is green. It hasn’t locked. Pulling it open, a thin piece of plastic falls away from the mechanism. It had been blocking the lock from securing.

Wednesday is grocery day, he recalls distantly. A staff member came to restock the fridge. They must have had the door propped open, and you…

Left. 

You left.

Homelander rips the door open, nearly yanking it off the hinges, and storms down the hall, fangs bared. You must have waited until it was late and the guard presence was scarce, otherwise someone would have reported you. You can’t have gone far.

When Vought realized that the continued development of Homelander’s powers came with a particular quirk that necessitated the consumption of human blood, they began the process of ensuring he always had a steady supply to keep him from eating his adoring fans. He never really cared about where the blood came from until he tasted yours.

Yours was special. It did something no one else’s ever had; it made him feel alive. He could taste the world in ways he never could before, and if he drank enough, he swore he could feel his heart start to beat. None of the scientists knew why. It didn’t matter to him. From that point on, he wasn’t interested in drinking from anyone other than you.

That was when he decided to keep you close at hand. Cut out the middleman.

You belong to him, and you have for months. He’s taken the utmost care of you, ensuring that you could have everything you need within the confines of his penthouse. The finest foods, every form of entertainment one could dream of, exquisite service at your fingertips and most compellingly of all, the love and adoration of the world’s greatest hero.  

So why the fuck would you leave?

Homelander rips through the tower. He’s furious, wounded and hungry. Those few security guards smart enough to get out of his way evade his rampage while a couple of unlucky ones wind up with their own personal craters in various walls.

He can smell the intoxicating allure of you trailing a path through the halls, but the combination of his hunger and his rage makes following it disorienting. He’s in no condition to hunt–he’s become sickeningly complacent in your time together, more reliant on you than he ever would have admitted freely. He’s grown to love the wait, letting himself feel his hunger so that you taste all the sweeter on his tongue.

Now the churn of it in his gut burns like fire.

Nevertheless, he is relentless, and within minutes he finds you in the garden just outside the tower, locked in by looming steel gates. You aren’t even properly dressed, garbed only in the thin loungewear he keeps you in, barefoot and combing your fingers through a tall hedge full of flowers just beginning to wither, their pink petals curled and browning.

You don’t even notice him until he’s upon you, snatching your wrist and whirling you around so sharply, the hedge behind you drops its wilting petals in a flurry. He must be a fearsome sight if your expression is anything to go by, your eyes wide and panicstricken.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses through his teeth, fangs fully protracted. You take a breath to speak, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He jostles you by your shoulders to cut you off, fingers biting into your arms.  “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Your pulse is racing. He can hear it, feel it in your wrist beneath his thumb. The sound of it is nearly enough to throw him to the ground, to shred the thin veneer of humanity he wears and give in to the bloodlust. His thumbnail tilts ever so slightly, biting a crescent mark into the supple flesh of your wrist. Never have you felt more tender in his hands. Never has he come so close to tearing you apart.

One slip, and you would be spilling red all over his tongue. 

“I just–” you begin, but he pulls you sharply up into his arms, seething so furiously that he can’t stand to hear you speak. He’s too far gone. Too fucking hungry.

“We’ll talk at home,” he grits out, and with a sonic boom that rips the remaining blossoms from the hedge in a flurry, he launches into the sky, purposefully flying too fast to allow for conversation. He holds you to his chest as tightly as he dares, landing back on his balcony with a thud. He uses the thumbpad and damn near tears the door off the hinges pulling it open. 

Homelander doesn’t have time to waste. You bounce a few times with the way he drops you onto the bed. Glancing up, he catches sight of himself in the myriad of mirrors. No wonder you looked at him the way you did. He looks crazed, lips parted around his fangs, his usual bright blue eyes shining pure crimson.  

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine after this.

You scramble up the bed, moving backwards on your hands, but he catches you by the ankle and yanks you back down it, climbing on top of you with a frustrated noise that fades off into a sigh. “Y’see what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and frayed. You yelp when he rips your shirt clean apart, exposing your top half completely.  Your skin is adorned beautifully with the history of your night.

You bruise easily for a supe. Your blood just loves to rush to the surface for him, vessels full and bursting under his grip. The memory of inflicting these marks is so intoxicating that even in his frenzy he can’t help but lean down and drag his tongue over one of the bruises that mottle the pretty skin of your chest. Under his tongue, you feel like ripe fruit yearning to be bitten into.

“Please, Homelander, stop,” you plead prettily. He can hear your tears in the tremble of your voice, practically taste the salt in the air.

Good, he thinks viciously. Cry. Regret. Never do this to me again.

“Played a dangerous game tonight, sweetheart,” he tells you, that pet name dripping with affection and venom in equal measure. He forces your legs apart and settles between them, tearing what little clothing remains on your body like paper and tossing it aside. He presses his palms down against your thighs, and the heat of you compared to the chill of his fingers nearly burns. He pushes your legs up and apart, soaking in the sweet smell of your cunt.

Sex and feeding have always gone hand in hand for Homelander. Vought tried for years to satiate him with plastic blood bags and artificial alternatives, but it never fed him the way a meal he could fuck does. Still, all of them paled in comparison to you. Your inner thighs are a mixture of both new and faded punctures that dot your body in matching pairs, scars that he hopes never fade. They mark you as his.

Neither of you will ever settle for another ever again. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, please–please let me explain,” you weep, trying to squirm out of his grasp. With a predatory growl he yanks you back into place, unwilling to listen.

The hunger is driving him to madness. He can feel your pulse like it’s his own, the sound of it thundering in his ears until it threatens to split his skull in half. His nails bite into your skin while he leans in, deaf to your begging as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the soft, succulent meat of your inner thigh.

Your blood spills into his mouth like rich ambrosia. He moans loudly, losing himself to the taste and the heat. Your blood is transcendent, going beyond nourishment. Your pulse reminds his heart to beat. The more he drinks, the more the warmth of you fills his frigid body, thawing out his sanity alongside it. Your heat courses steadily through him, the fervor of it vanishing that nauseating pound from his skull until the only throb he’s left with is the one between his legs.

He sucks in a wet breath when he breaks away from you, panting his delirious pleasure. There’s nothing in this world than the high that comes after being satiated from a frenzy. It’s like he’s floating, his tongue and throat tingling with your sweet nectar.

He isn’t the only one tingling. He can smell the heady musk of your arousal. Your fearful tears are no match for the effect his bite has on your body, how his saliva mingles with your blood and makes you ache for him.

Without his hunger deafening him to the world, he can focus again. He takes a moment to lap at where he’s bitten you, cleaning up the blood that dripped from the wounds. He trails his blood-warmed tongue inward, far from placated. 

He pins your thighs down flush to the bed and nestles into the sweet core of you, plunging his tongue eagerly into your cunt. Your body jolts, but he holds you steady, eagerly swirling his tongue, collecting the taste of you to drink down. He sucks hungrily at your clit, pulling off of it with wet little pops, kissing and licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him for all the right reasons.

Devouring you like this is working him back up into a different kind of frenzy. He slips one finger into you, then two, mouthing your clit while he fucks you with his fingers, coaxing more and more from you. Your walls feel so fucking soft and velvety around his fingers, and his need to feel you quivering around his cock is rapidly outpacing his hunger for the taste of your cunt. With one last deep plunge of his tongue, he lifts himself over you, reaching down to hurriedly unclasp his belt, staring down at you with lust glazed eyes.

You’re a mess. Your whole body is flushed with heat, and you’ve barely stopped moaning since he bit you. He’s heard the effects of his bite described like a fever, a delirious experience that robs you of your senses and leaves you desperate for more, for anything of him. Even so, you haven’t stopped crying. It makes you look sweet. Vulnerable. Fucking delicious.

“Mmm, you’re pretty when you cry, baby,” he says, running his tongue along his teeth, over the sharp juts of his fangs. He gets his cock free and adjusts himself between your legs, laying over you. “This your way of saying sorry? Because it’s working,” he tells you, bracing one hand on the bed next to you while he uses the other to hold the base of his cock, dragging the head of it up and down through the wet mess of your pretty pussy lips. “Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Be good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nuzzling at your throat.

Opening his mouth, Homelander bites into your neck at the same time he thrusts forward, letting out a muffled, ragged moan as he sinks into you on both fronts, shuddering with how fucking good it feels, tight and wet and hot as sin. Between that and the fresh rush of your blood down his throat, he ascends to a state of goddamn euphoria.

You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan. He drinks you up, savors the sound of you as much as he does the taste. He snaps his hips, wastes no time fucking you deep, holding you still with the lock of his jaw while he pounds you into the mattress.

“Oh, ffffuck,” he groans, lips bloodied. He laps at the blood on your neck, the sound of it as wet as his cock hammering your cunt with the relentlessness of a machine, utterly inhuman in the way he takes you. “So good to me, aren’t you? Feeding me, taking me. Mmm, fuck, m’close,” he says, nuzzling at your skin, enamored with the warmth of you.

With the ravenous insanity of his bloodlust fading, his thrusts become less brutal. He hikes your thigh over his hip and holds it there, sliding into a rhythm that’s something closer to making love. Your cunt quivers all around him, and by the noises you’re making he knows you’re electrified, out of your mind with the haze of pleasure that his bite induces. “M’gonna take care of you, too. You know that, don’t you? Yeah, y’do, and you won’t ever fucking leave me again. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he pants, mouthing at the shell of your ear.

It’s a lie. He knows what he would do. He would punish any world that dared take you from him. The thought alone would be enough to enrage him all over were he not so deeply soothed by your iron on his tongue and your soft body giving into him. If he had breath to give, it would be stolen by the way you seize up against him, orgasm taking hold of you like a possession, capturing your voice and rolling your eyes heavenward.

This is love. This undying hunger, this obsessive compulsion to keep you close. He craves you not just for the ambrosial taste of your blood, but for your soft lips against his and the timbre of your voice. He brought you into his life to satiate his bloodlust, but never could he have fathomed the greater emptiness that you would fill. Knowing you were here waiting for him has made him understand for the first time in his life what it means to come home.

He’ll ruin you before he loses you.

Homelander comes with a low, wrecked moan, kissing you fervently as he stops to empty himself into you as deeply as possible, forehead pressed to yours.

You’re panting, letting out pitchy little wisps of sound with every breath. He gently kisses them from your lips, hushing you. “S’alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, licking the salt of your tears from his lips. He cups the other side of your face and strokes it with his thumb. You’re shaking all over. He slips an arm around you to draw you close, to comfort you as you come down from your high. “Ssshhhh. Everything’s alright. M’right here, and I love you.”

That wrings a tight little sob out of you. He smiles, dazed on his own lingering ecstasy. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, wandering alone in the dark like that,” he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Just happy I found you before anything happened to you.”

What if someone else had found you like that? Confused and vulnerable. He would have found you eventually, but had anyone been unlucky enough to lay their hands on you before then, they wouldn’t have hands for much longer. He kisses you again, firmer, possessive. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Gingerly, he slips from the wet heat of your body and adjusts himself, getting you both situated under the covers. He spends a while soothing you, rubbing your back while you lay in his arms, kissing the top of your head every so often.

“You alright?” He asks eventually. You aren’t shaking anymore, but you haven’t said a word. It makes him a touch… anxious.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not very convincing, but he wants to believe it enough that he accepts the answer anyways.

“Good,” he purrs, slipping his hand over the back of your neck. His fingertips brush your menagerie of scars, each bite a reminder of how thoroughly you have allowed him to love you. “That’s my good girl. I love you,” he says with a smile, tipping your head back to kiss your lips.

He waits.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” you finally respond.

His smile broadens. He draws you closer to him, listening to the lively thrum of your body. You are the warmth in his own veins, the beat of his heart.  This, too, is love. Kissed lips, bitten limbs, hungering teeth and bodies intertwined. It’s sweeter than anything he has ever known. The need in him is a monstrous thing, he knows. He hadn’t known how monstrous it was until he thought–even for a moment–that he’d lost you.

It won’t happen again.

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 NAP TIME WITH NIKOLAI!

FEATURING: nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: nap time with nikolai is always eventful one way or another—you've gotten used to it. you think. (wordcount: 900ish; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 1) is anyone having issues editing drafts on mobile?? it's not letting me. 2) does anyone know how to fix the dividers not letting posts show up in the tags glitch D: i am suffering

“nikolai.”

“yes, my dove?”

“what are you doing?”

you sigh softly as you card your fingers through his soft hair, absently feeling the man trace patterns on your skin with the tip of a knife. you don’t know where he got it—he isn’t wearing his overcoat so it’s not like he could have grabbed it from where it was stashed in his pocket dimension. 

he’s not nearly tracing hard enough to break your skin—if anything, it feels like a faint tickle—but it had woken you up from where you were dozing off, so you’re a bit annoyed. 

“… nothing,” nikolai replies, voice hesitant and laced with such a suspicious tone that it has you cracking your eyes open to give him an equally suspicious look. 

nikolai looks deceptively innocent as he tilts his head up to look up at you, eyes wide and expression soft. the knife is nowhere to be seen, he must have stuffed it up his sleeve. your eyes narrow, nikolai pouts at the expression.

“nikolai, if you cut me with that knife, i’ll chop off your hair,” you threaten watching a horrified expression cross his face before letting your head fall back against the pillow, intent on trying to get a nap in before fyodor barges in and demands for the two of you to get back to work.

nikolai is silent for a moment, but too soon he says: “no you won’t,” and then cackles and adds, “you looooooove my hair.” 

you peek your eyes back open, a bit more irate now when you catch the wide grin on nikolai’s face, eyes dancing as he looks up at you. “do you know what i love more than your hair?” you ask as you brush your fingers through his long, white locks. when he waits for you to answer your own question, you tell him, “not having my sleep interrupted.”

you tug his hair hard, painfully, and you roll your eyes when nikolai only lets out a moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“you’re disgusting,” you say, albeit fondly, as you release his hair and go back to stroking it softly. “put the knife away and rest.”

you hear a clanging sound as nikolai carelessly tosses the knife off the bed and against the wall. instead of laying his head back on your chest like he usually does when you want to nap but he’s not tired, he scooches up the bed to rest his head on the pillow next to you. you smile when you feel him hook an arm around your waist, tugging you back toward him so your body is flush to his. 

“thought you weren’t tired,” you murmur softly, eyes sliding shut as you melt into him.  it’s not often that you get to lay up with nikolai like this, he’s rarely tired enough to actually nap with you—he usually just lays on you until you fall asleep and then disappears to find someone to harass. 

“hmmm, i changed my mind, little koshenya!” he says, although you can’t help but notice that he doesn’t sound all too tired, a playful lilt to his voice as he nuzzles his face in your hair. 

“oh yeah?” you ask, amused, yawning as your eyes begin to drift shut again. the weight of his arm draped around you is familiar and comforting and you can feel his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“mhmm!” nikolai agrees, still sounding a bit too energetic for you to actually believe he’s tired—you figure he has ulterior motives but you don’t know what they are, and that slightly terrifies you.

it doesn’t terrify you enough to rouse you, though, because you can hardly hold your eyes open as you bring your hand to where nikolai’s is resting on your waist, intertwining your fingers with his. 

he hums softly, his chest rumbling gently against your back—an old lullaby that you recall him mentioning as one of the few things he remembers from his mother during his childhood. his thumb rubs soft circles on your waist while he nudges his nose against your head, occasionally pressing kisses to your hair between the lullaby’s verses. 

and you bask, because nikolai is rarely as docile as he is in this moment and you want to savor it. a part of you wants to try to stay awake, but it’s hard with the warmth of his body spreading through you and the low, smooth hums of nikolai’s voice in your ear, chest reverberating against you. 

“sleep, my dove,” nikolai coos between his hums. “i have a surprise for you tomorrow.”

and that more than slightly terrifies you because surprises from nikolai rarely end well, but by the time the words finally process, he’s already back to humming and lulling you to sleep—purposely, you now realize sleepily. 

“better be a good one, kolya,” you sigh to yourself, not even sure if the words are intelligible, but if the way nikolai’s hums briefly are interrupted by a sharp, jarring giggle have anything to say about it, they are. 

“of course, it will be,” he promises cryptically. “now sleep, little koshenya.”

[nexysworld]

Summary: Leon Kennedy is your new neighbor, and seemingly a great guy; handsome, funny, sweet, mysterious. It doesn't take long until you're falling for him hard and fast. But things take a turn after the death of someone close to you. Strange events keep happening around you, leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion. Desperate for a sense of normalcy, you rely heavily on Leon. He plays his part well, always being there for you, always being your safe space. There's only one problem, unbeknownst to you, his obsession towards you is growing and as it does, so too does the measures he'll take to watch over you, and more importantly make you his.

Pairing: Yandere!Leon x Fem!Reader

Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn.

Read on AO3 || Ask Box Open || Masterlist

You had lived in this apartment since the day you moved out of your parent’s house. It was small, only a single bedroom located in a rougher part of the city. While the appliances hadn’t been updated since the 90’s and the place looked like a disaster, you did your best to make the beat down apartment your own. A few fresh coats of paint on the yellowed walls and some throw rugs to cover the stained and now flattened shag rug and boom — not too shabby. 

It was home. 

Living in such a rundown building meant that the turnover rate for neighbors was quite high, people always coming and going. None really caught your attention except for the few long-term tenants that seemed to have no intention of leaving. So of course when a new person moved in on the other side of Mrs. Wilson, the sweet elderly woman who shared the apartment next door, you paid no mind. 

In fact, it wasn’t until several weeks later that you had even seen who the new neighbor was. Returning from work, you watched Tina, the girl from 202 painfully trying to hit on – what you could only describe as – an absolute tank of a man. 

Sandy blonde hair was slicked back out of his face revealing a handsome mesh of chiseled and soft features. He had clearly been accosted on his way back from exercising, clad in black basketball shorts and a sweat-soaked gray t-shirt, sleeves straining against his massive biceps. His earbuds were tossed over his shoulder as he talked to the girl, music still playing quietly through them. Turning to the wall of shared mailboxes, you tried your best to not stare or eavesdrop, but damn was it hard. As you opened the small metal door, you couldn’t keep your eyes from darting back to him. 

‘I thought guys like him only existed in magazines.’ You thought to yourself, collecting the mail – even taking an extra moment to slowly sort through it where you were, buying more time to be nosy. It was obvious he was not into her at all. 

“Soooo Leon..” Tina said awkwardly, twirling her finger through her choppy red hair, the metal bracelets on her wrist clanging together with each movement, bubble gum gnashing between her pearly whites.  “You listen to music while you work out?” “Uhh…yeah, sometimes.” He said almost flatly, scratching a spot on his slightly cleft chin. 

“Oh that’s cool. What uh, what do you usually listen to?” She bit her red coated lip, and batted her lashes, it didn’t seem to garner any additional interest from the man.  

“Rock music, I guess.” Another flat response, his jaw clenching ever so slightly before he resumed his neutral look. 

“I like rock music. Uh…” You watched as she fumbled to try to come up with anything else to add, tapping her heeled boot against the floor. 

“Look, it was real nice talking to you, but I have to go.” He said flashing a small smile before popping his earbuds back in and running up the stairs, not giving the girl a chance to respond.

‘Ouch, that was awkward. But damn even his voice is attractive.’ Stopping yourself from giggling, you collected the few pieces of non junk mail and made your way back to your apartment. There was the smallest amount of guilt bouncing at the back of your mind, knowing you shouldn’t be ogling men like that while having a boyfriend. ‘It’s not like I did anything. I didn’t even speak to the guy.’ 

About a week after that, you had your first real run-in with Leon. Heading out to work you saw Mrs. Wilson’s door ajar — definitely unusual as she didn’t tend to get many visitors besides yourself. Concerned for her, you poked your head through the opening. The familiar smell of mint and warm bread hit your senses, but you didn’t hear a thing. 

Sliding inside you quietly poked around as you made your way to the back of the apartment, keeping an eye out in case anything nefarious was afoot. Much to your relief, the hall opened up into the living room at the back where you saw Mrs. Wilson. Next to her was another figure you hadn’t expected. 

Leon was standing with one arm above his head, unscrewing the blackened lightbulb from the socket before replacing it with the fresh one he had in his other hand. Workout attire replaced with a pair of worn blue jeans and a long sleeve black shirt. “Oh thank you.” Mrs. Wilson said with her signature wrinkly smile. “You’re so kind to do this for me. I hate having to bug the sweet girl next door all the time, but you know the lights in this place tend to blow every time there’s a storm and I can’t get up on the chairs like I used to.” “No worries ma’am.” He said with a far brighter smile than he’d worn during his interaction with Tina. His hair was no longer slicked back either, instead it framed his face, soft and fluffy, accentuating his cheekbones. You couldn’t help but notice the tiny gap his shirt left while his arm was raised, just the smallest peek of a dusty blonde happy trail and the faintest hint of hard muscle. “Looks like you have a visitor.” 

Leon turned his attention to you with a small nod before he flipped the switch on the wall to test the new light. It lit up, further illuminating the area with a soft yellow glow. “S-sorry.” You snapped out of it, raising your eyes to meet his. “I saw the door was open and I just wanted to make sure Grams was okay.”

“You’re always such a Darling.” The elderly woman said with a toothless grin aimed in your direction. There was a homeliness about the old woman that made you feel warm.  “Mr. Kennedy here is such a sweet boy. Have you met him yet? He moved in next door a while ago and offered to help me with a few things.” “I told you Mrs. Wilson, call me Leon.” He said as he tossed the broken lightbulb into the small pink trash can by the kitchen counter. “And I don’t believe we have met. Nice to meet you. The name’s Leon, well I guess you already knew that. Leon Kennedy.” He added his last name, reaching out a hand to you. 

“Nice to meet you too Leon. I’m glad to hear Grams has someone else to help take care of her. I live next door, in 306.” You couldn’t lie, your heart melted a little. ‘Handsome and kind? This guy must be a unicorn.’ You whisked the thought away again, the picture of your own boyfriend flashing behind your eyes again. 

The vintage clock hung against the floral wallpaper cuckoo’d and chimed, indicating the top of the hour. “Oh shit—“

“Language!” Mrs. Wilson chimed. “You know it’s unbecoming of a lady to—“

“I meant, shoot. Sorry Grams. I’m just running late for work.” You wrapped an arm around her in a quick side hug. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have to run.” Waving to Leon, you made a beeline for the door. 

“Well Ms. 306, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He shouted after you. 

“You too Mr. 302!” 

Ever since, Leon became a regular in your routine. Short conversations in the hallway that always left you with butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help the way your muscles in your face stretched into a permanent grin that you couldn’t stave off for the life in you. How a man managed to be so stoic and corny at the same time you’d never know. 

You ran errands for Mrs. Wilson together too, taking his Jeep out into the city. He would leave the top down and take the long way. Your hair would whip your face as you both sang along — poorly — to some dad rock mixtape Leon had. It seemed so fitting that he’d have an out of date tape player in his car, something so indescribably Leon. 

He really seemed like a great guy and you were enamored to say the least — though you tried desperately not to be. ‘It’s just a harmless crush.’ You told yourself. ‘He’s not into you anyway. Leon’s just a nice guy, worlds out of your league.’ 

~~~~~

Cool air bit at your cheeks and nose while you leaned against the brick wall of the building. Derek was abysmally late, you had the feeling he was upset at you for some reason but unable to fathom why. Hoping that it wasn’t the reason for his current absence, you checked your phone again.

Still nothing. A sigh escaped your lips as you readjusted your jacket.

“Everything alright?” The voice was immediately recognizable and your face lit up into a smile before you even looked over at him. 

“Hey Leon. Yeah everything’s fine, I’m just waiting on Derek.” You couldn’t be certain but you swore there was the slightest change in his expression, facial muscles contracting tightly before settling back into the lax warm look you were used to. “Oh. You know it’s not nice to keep a lady waiting.” Leaning against the wall next to you, he tilted his back to look up at the sky. He was wearing his brown bomber jacket that you found so attractive on him. A small part of you wondered how it would feel to wear it yourself, if it would smell like him. The other part of you was curious how a guy could afford such a nice brand name jacket, but lived in a place like this. 

“Yeah well… I think he’s mad at me actually.” You moved some dirt back and forth with your foot. “Why’s that?” A thick blonde brow was raised with interest as he tilted his head to look down at you. The dull light of the street lamp lit up half his face, casting hard shadows on the other, it accentuated each of his features in a way that made you never want to stop looking. 

“Wish I knew.” A dry laugh escaped your lips. As the wind picked up again, dust kicked up from the ground, blowing towards you along with some plant debris. You covered your face with the oversized jacket sleeve for a moment to protect your face. 

You heard Leon chuckle. “Looks like you picked up a straggler.” He brought his hand up to your head, just above your ear and gently removed a small weed stem that had made its home in your hair. 

“Thank you, I would’ve looked silly walking around like that.” 

He lingered close to you for a moment, flicking the stem away before he brought his hand back to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Mhm, can’t have that.” 

The moment felt intimate, and your heart beat out of time for a moment. You wanted to return the gesture, to say something, to do anything, but your brain was frazzled for a moment by the electric feel of his touch. 

“Ahem.” Your head snapped in the other direction to see your boyfriend standing there leaning against his car, not having heard him drive by or even exit the vehicle. 

“Have a good night Leon.” Quickly, you jerked away from his touch and ran over to your boyfriend, who had already started walking around to get back in the driver’s side of his car. Slipping into the passenger seat, you tried to lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek, but he turned his head enough to dodge it. Shrinking back, you buckled up and rested your head against the window, looking out as the city blurred past. ‘Guess he is mad at me.’

You attempted to fumble through some radio stations, but Derek made it clear he didn’t appreciate it, reaching over and turning it off entirely after the third one. The forty minute ride felt like hours as the rest passed by in total silence. 

His mood didn’t seem to improve at the movie theater either. Each little gesture of affection you attempted was immediately spurned. Every part of him radiated with negativity — and the thought of dinner afterwards made your stomach churn. A movie was a distraction and there was no requirement to talk, but sitting across from someone dead silent, that would be harder to deal with. The uncomfortableness of the situation caused your focus to drift again, only tuning in when a jumpscare appeared – unfortunately he left you to reel in your chair alone during those parts too. The movie ended, indicated by the overhead lights that suddenly appeared and the credits rolling on the screen.  Derek was halfway out the door before you even finished grabbing your bag. 

You had to run after him across the tacky carpeted floor of the theater and out intl the parking lot. “Why are you acting like this?” You pleaded, grabbing his hand before he could reach the car. 

“Acting like what?” He asked coldly. 

“Like this.” You gestured broadly towards him. “You’ve been cold to me the whole evening. Well actually more than just this evening.” 

“Really? I honestly didn’t think you’d notice.”  

“What does that even mean?” 

“You know exactly what it means!” He finally shouted. He brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep breath trying to calm himself. Of course the two of you had fought before, but he’d never acted like this. It didn’t help that you had no idea what he was even talking about. “You’ve been pulling away from me for weeks now. You’ve been distant, canceling plans to ‘run errands’. When we are together all you ever do is talk about that stupid neighbor of yours — and then tonight, I catch him nearly eye fucking you right out in the open. You certainly didn’t seem to be bothered by it.” 

“Derek….that’s not true. I — Leon’s just a friend, my neighbor I swear.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“What?”

“Are. You. Sleeping. With. Him?” He brought his eyes back up to meet yours, the look of hurt on his face made your stomach twist and heart ache. 

“No! What? No, I wouldn't do that to you.” You assured, stepping towards him. “Come on, please don’t be like this. I’m sorry if it seems that way, I don’t realize I’m talking about him so much. I’d never —“

“Save it.” He said, pushing you away from him again. “I don’t believe you. I don’t even know why I came out here tonight.” 

“Der—“

“I said save it!” He snapped. 

“This isn’t fair!” You shouted in return. “Why drag me out here on this whole date if you were this upset? You could’ve brought it up this whole time”

“I did. I told you over a week ago I was sick of hearing about him. I asked you to stop seeing so much of him, you told me no.”

“Leon’s a friend, I’m not going to ruin my friendship with him because you’re being psycho and jealous.”

“I’m a psycho because I don’t like that my own girlfriend spends all her time with some guy that looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad? How about the fact you don’t even seem to care that I’m hurt I thought I’d have been more important — you know what? Forget this. Forget it.” He turned to walk around to the driver’s side of the car. “I’m over this. You want him? Have him. I’m not chasing you. I thought you were my future wife, I thought we’d have the picket fence, kids, all of it. But now I get how you feel about everything.”

He slammed the car door shut, started the engine, and began backing out of the spot. You banged on the window to get his attention. “What are you doing? You’re seriously just going to leave me here?”

“Call your boyfriend to come get you.” He sneered through the window before blasting off and out of the parking lot.

You were stunned, unable to move as you watched the car disappear. ‘He can’t be serious right now? He’ll be back right?’ Pulling your phone out of your pocket you checked the time, 10pm. Wanting to hide your shame from the few people staring at you, and deciding he just needed a little while to cool down, you sat on the sidewalk in front of the theater, hidden by a bush that extended out. 

15 minutes passed. Nothing. 

Dialing the familiar number it rang a few times before going to voicemail. You tried again, this time it went straight to voicemail. 

10 more minutes passed and you tried to text him.

20 more minutes, still no response or call back. 

The wind was picking up again, making it chilly even under your jacket, which you’d brought down over your knees to try and keep in more warmth. This part of the city you weren’t familiar with, and weren’t sure it was worth the risk of trying to walk home. Given the situation, calling Leon was the last thing you wanted to do, especially since he was probably asleep by now — not that it was his job to really come save you anyway. 

Opening the Uber app on your phone, you put in the respective addresses. “$30? Not including a tip? Fuck.” You bit your lip in frustration. Technically you had enough, but it was the last of what was left in your account after bills.

Tapping your fingers along the cement, you shivered as a particular gust of wind leaked air into your jacket from the opening underneath. ‘Even if I did call Leon and he wasn’t mad I woke him up, that’s still a drive away. An Uber would be faster…but I do need groceries to sustain life.’

“This sucks.” You said out loud to yourself, burying your face into your knees, you had no clue what you were going to do and were running out of time to decide. By this time, the parking lot had emptied entirely, theater closing for the night. ‘Fuck it. I’ll just call and if he doesn’t answer I’ll order the stupid Uber.’ 

Opening his contact, the picture of him you’d taken at the park came up. Blonde hair pushed back and messy, one sea blue eye opened staring at your phone’s camera while the other was closed in a wink. You’d even convinced him to throw up a peace sign – it was so silly and so very Leon. Sighing, you began the call, letting the phone ring.

As it rang over and over again, you could swear you heard a familiar tune in the distance. It was very quiet, like someone was playing the radio several blocks over, but it tickled your ears all the same. You ended the call the moment it went to his voicemail, as you did you swore the song had ended too. ‘Weird, I must be hallucinating. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top, abandoned and crazy.’ You let out a dry laugh at the thought. 

Luckily after a moment, the phone buzzed in your hand, heart fluttering a little when you saw his name pop up on your screen. “Hey.” You said softly. 

“Hey there.” He replied, his voice sounding groggy. 

“Sorry to uhm….sorry if I woke you up.”

“S’not a problem. Everything ok?” 

“Well I uh….” 

“What’s wrong?” His voice sounding more alert now, you heard some shifting on the other end of the line. 

“Derek kind of ditched me at the theater. I’m a little stranded —“

“Need me to come get you?” 

“If you don’t mind. But if you’re asleep —“

“No, it's fine. I’d rather make sure you’re okay anyway. Where are you at?”

“The theater up by main, across from the big shopping center.”

“I’ll be there in 15, ok?”

“15, are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? This a test?” There was a small chortle from his end. “Well it’s just that the apartment is nearly 40 minutes away? I hope you’re not planning on driving like a maniac.” There was a long moment of silence on the other end, so long it began to make you feel anxious. “Hey Leon, you still there?” 

It was still another few seconds before his voice could be heard again. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that. I actually crashed at a friend's house after you left, so I’m nearby.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

The wait for him to show up felt like an eternity, you watched each and every minute tick by on your phone, both giddy and nervous with anticipation. When his Jeep came to a stop in front of you, you bolted up with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He replied with the same grin he always greeted you with. His hair was a little messy and he looked tired, making the guilt bubble up in your stomach more. “So….you gonna get in or?” 

“Oh yeah.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you ran around to the passenger seat before hopping in. He had the heater on, not that it was doing much with the open top, but you appreciated every time the warmth hit your legs. 

“So what exactly happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” He leaned back more comfortably in his seat, driving with one hand as the other rested on the door.

“We just got into a fight….” You fidgeted with your phone as you gave him a glance in return. “He seems to think I’ve been cheating on him…or at least that I like someone else. I tried to tell him it wasn’t true, but you know…

“So he abandoned you? Just like that?” He asked bewildered. 

“Yeah I guess he did…” 

“That’s pretty shitty of him. I mean what if something happened to you?”

“Yeah it was… I don’t know…” You trailed off, not wanting to talk about it further, just dredging up those bad feelings. Instead, you opted to change the subject entirely. “Hey you know what’s weird?”

“No, what?”

“That one Nickelback song you like so much…you play it almost every time we’re in the Jeep together.”

“Oh, Far Away? Sure, what about it?”

“Well…as I was calling you, I swore I heard it. Was so weird, like a scene from a movie or something — maybe it was a sign that you’d come get me. Or I had a psychotic break and imagined the whole thing. Could be either one.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a chuckle. “I don’t know about the universe, but I am always here if you need me – even if you’ve lost your mind.” He tilted his head and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Thanks Lee…” The rest of the ride home went smoothly — things falling back into place like they always did. Blasting music obnoxiously loud for the hour, singing along. He even stopped to get you milkshakes on the way back, despite your insistence that you were fine. In his defense, the logic of ‘no one can be upset with a milkshake’ made a lot of sense. 

As the vehicle rolled in front of the building, he leaned over, swiping his thumb across the side of your mouth. “Had something there.” His tongue darted out, lapping the sticky white substance off of the digit.

“Oh.” The simple touch had that electric feeling sparking throughout your veins again. “Thank you….and thanks again for the ride.”

“No problem.” 

Not knowing what else to say, you nodded and scurried from the vehicle back inside the building. He didn’t follow immediately behind you, having to properly park, which left you relieved. 

The entire evening was a whirlwind of emotions and that last little interaction had your entire brain scrambling inside your skull. All you wanted was for the night to be over with, forgotten as you drifted to unconsciousness. 

You took a quick shower before changing into your pajamas and all but flopping into the comfortable fortress of your bed. 

Curling up into the soft bedding, you expected sleep to come over you quickly — but you were wrong. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could picture was that pink tongue darting out to lap up the milkshake from his thumb. His smile, his eyes on you. It made you shudder and clamp your legs together, heat rushing between them. You squirmed around tossing and turning, trying to get your mind to relax and to stave off the arousal that was hindering your sleep.

Nothing you did was working, finally deciding to just give in, sinking your hand down between your legs. ‘Just so I can sleep…’ 

Hand tracing gently along your slit through your panties, you spread your legs farther to give yourself more access. Closing your eyes you could vividly see his face between your legs, tongue out lapping at your panties the way he’d done to the ice cream. 

A soft moan escaped your lips as you applied more pressure, rubbing the slick soaked fabric against your aching bud of pleasure. “Mmm Leon…” The comforter was slowly becoming suffocating, too hot. You tossed it off of yourself to the other side of the mattress, letting yourself feel the cool air as it rushed against your skin – nipples sensitive to the temperature change. 

You brought your left hand up under the silken sleep shirt, circling one hard bud with a finger before pinching it lightly. The fingers of your right hand teasingly walked themselves up to the hem of the fabric, dipping inside the band to properly travel down. Air escaped your mouth once direct contact was made to your throbbing clit. “Leon…so good…” 

In your little vision the man had moved to hook your legs over his shoulders to gain a better angle - the real you bucking your hips up against your fingers, desperate to add to the vision. “So good to me Lee….always so good to me….fuck…” 

Your fingers slid up and down against yourself, left hand abandoning your breast to travel it’s way downward as well, two fingers slipping themselves within your soaking hole – desperately needing to clench around more than the nothingness you were left with. “So close….gonna…” The words caught in your throat as the pressure finally released itself, tingling warmth spreading from your core throughout your body. It was quick and rough, far from the best you’d ever had but it was exactly what you needed. 

The illusion finally cracked and you were left with sore arms, staring up at the ceiling – momentarily sated and relieved, again hoping sleep would take you quickly. 

A/N: If this looks familiar, it's a total rewrite/reboot of my yandere!leon series. This original series was inspired by @explorevenus' Something Permanent series. Other inspirations include @gigabyte-flare, @lipglossanon, and @girldungeon's works. Special shoutout to @elfven-blog and her superior pinterest skills for the aesthetic pics used in the banner.

Next Chapter

[fshigur0]

heartburn — suguru geto x fem!reader

synopsis: suguru geto has left, that happened many years ago. but when all of a sudden he texts you back, hinting to an urgent matter you have to discuss, you accept out of curiosity. but we all know the story of how curiosity killed the cat.

warnings: MDNI! basically smut with a bit of plot, angst in the beginning, mentions of death, suguru is sadistic, praise kink, begging kink, use of pet names (such as love, dove, sweetheart, princess, etc.), manipulation, unprotected sex, teasing, vaginal penetration, slapping, creampie, dirty talk, suguru is just cruel, angst at the end. it might have left space for a part two? who knows

a/n: this is a repost! hope u like it hehe <3<3

The sheer lightness of being was something extremely unfamiliar for a sorcerer. Your existence was inexorably intertwined with a fate that was, to say the least, cruel, and at the mere age of sixteen — in the very spring of one’s life, it all felt excessively tragic.

You couldn’t really retrace the rapidity of how it happened, but although death should have been a gradual concept to learn for a group of teenagers, it loomed over you; watching from afar like a predator does with its prey, and when you least expected it, it would engulf you like a cruel serpent, completely stealing your breath away.

As soon as the spring of your youth was abruptly shattered – reduced to ashes by an uncontrollable fire – you realized you had lost Suguru as well.

Perhaps out of denial or maybe as a form of protection, you had always told yourself that noticing the pain Suguru was going through had been impossible: after all, you were suffering too. In fact, everyone was suffering, but none of you shared the experience of pain with each other.

You suffered in silence in the darkness of your rooms, in the emptiness of a classroom, but you couldn’t show weakness for fear of weakening each other as a result. Yet, you realized – now almost ten years since the events that had mercilessly changed your life – that all that “care” would amount to nothing. You and Suguru had already lost from the start. When he had decided to leave your life completely, he himself had said that ’it was going to happen anyway, eventually’.

It was at that particular moment that you focused on the details of his face: purplish dark circles dominated the lower part of his eyes, which you had always admired before as they were brimming with love, now devoid of any emotion.

You loved him and, truly, you had loved him ever since you sat next to him in class. His stature and expression might have seemed intimidating to everyone, but having him beside you conveyed a sense of… safety; the first time he cracked a small, soft smile at you, your cheeks ignited and your heart drummed in your chest so hard you feared it might burst from your ribcage. Suguru was kind, and always addressed you in a low but delicate tone, as if he feared that raising it even a little would shatter you.

Sure, you had fallen in love, but Suguru had fallen harder. He loved the way your eyes would slowly trace the pages of your favourite book, their intense colour lit by a ray of nomadic sunshine. He loved the tenderness of your fingertips on his scalp and the way you could send shivers down his spine just by running your hand through his hair. He loved the way your voice syllabled his name, it was pure music to his ears. Suguru loved you, but you both knew it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, because the world he so yearned to create was much more valuable than you.

The stabs that his words had inflicted soon gave way to a disturbing sense of guilt: if you had realised this earlier, could you have changed the course of the story? Could you have prevented his transformation into a mass murderer? Could you have saved the Suguru Geto you knew? The questions plagued your mind, never to be answered.

And just as the first love of your youth walked out of your life, his silhouette growing smaller, that sense of guilt which tormented you morphed into disgust. Spring had come to an end, making way for a long winter.

〔From Suguru Geto〕 : there are some urgent matters we have to discuss. i’ll come to your place.

He’s sitting on your couch, manspreading. His arms crossed over his chest and his head slightly tilted back, eyes firmly glued on you; his gaze is unbearable, and that mocking grin on his face does not help your cause.

You want to punch him so badly, to scream and yell at him, to ask him why on earth he has decided walk back into your life after so long: but it was you who had allowed him to do it, who had opened the front door for him despite your hands shaking — your mind trying in vain to stop you, to warn you that what you were about to do was morally wrong.

Surely, you won’t be able to look the others in the face any more, not after you have welcomed a criminal into your home, a murderer whom everyone wants dead.

“So, cat’s got ya tongue?”

You take in the last drag of your cigarette, now consumed, savoring the remnants of nicotine tingling your brain. You want to snap back at him for asking such a dumb question, what are you supposed to say? Welcome him back like nothing happened? Throw a party?

“I have nothing to tell you, Suguru. Rather, it was you who texted me out of nowhere,” You acknowledge that you have raised your voice slightly, as if just hearing him speak irritates you to your core, “So speak.”

“Mhmh, you really haven’t changed much, have ya?” His smirk only grows bigger, like he is getting amused at that sight of you. “You still get heated up pretty quickly, I see.”

You scoff, an expression of sheer disbelief on your face. “Seriously, Suguru?” It hadn’t even been ten minutes and he was already taunting you; you hated him, hated that he was treating you like that after breaking your heart, hated that he was breaking it once more right after you had managed to glue the pieces back together. “Listen here, Geto,” and he raises an eyebrow, the smirk slowly vanishing, as if your use of his surname had wounded his pride, “What on earth do you want from me? You don’t show up for years and now you’re here, acting like nothing’s wrong and, and…”

“… And that hurts your feelings, love?”

A stab in the chest would have hurt less, you think. But right now all the suffering you’ve gone through erupts into an anger that blinds you. “You better not fuck with me or I’ll make you regret coming here.”

Silence suddenly drops in your living room, and for a moment the black-haired man remains stunned, blinking. Then, much to your surprise, he starts laughing: it’s that kind of laugh that pierces right through you and rumbles in your chest. However, you don’t understand why a part of you doesn’t mind.

You sit still, unable to utter a single word, an overwhelming feeling of shame washing over you.

You are currently sitting on two different sides of the room, however you now realise that you are actually extremely close. He shakes his head and leans forward slightly until one of his hands rests on your knee. The cool skin of his palm makes direct contact with yours. You quiver. Dammit, you think, did I really have to wear shorts today?

“Oh my, who thought you threatening me would be so cute?”

“Cut it out, Suguru, or else-”

“Or what, sweetheart? Will you snap my neck?” Suguru grabs your wrist, completely disregarding the strenght he does that with, and brings your hand to his neck, wrapping your palm around it. He applies some pressure, and it looks like he’s enjoying that.

“Or will you pierce my chest?” He then leads your hand to his chest, pushing it right over his heart, so hard that you feel his heartbeat vibrate on your skin. “Scream at me that I’m a jerk, that you have every reason to hate me — because you fucking do, Y/N.”

He pulls you in, so close the points of your noses are almost touching, and you feel his minty breath on your face. You should push him away, you really should, but you don’t want to.

“I really do.” You’re barely able to breathe out, lips chapped up.

You are essentially sitting on his lap, Suguru’s hand finding a way to the back of your thigh, squeezing your flesh. You let out a surprised squeal, and he knows he has you wrapped around his finger.

“I can see that” He responds, deep-brown eyes locked on you. “My sweet, sweet, little dove.”

Before you know it, Suguru closes the gap between the two of you, mouths clasping together. The kiss you share isn’t in any way chaste, and it doesn’t take long for you to start feeling breathless.

His hand caresses the abused spot he has just grasped, before cupping the curve of your ass, boldly ignoring the pink fabric of your shorts. The action makes your cunt throb, and you feel ashamed that not wearing a bra underneath your shirt had caused your hardened nipples to be so exposed.

“Suguru, please…” You beg, yet at this point you’re not sure what you’re begging for.

“Mhmh, I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart. Can you repeat that for me?”

You know this has to stop, you are perfectly aware of that and the situation on its own is seriously unbelievable. Have you lost your mind? You have to tell him before it’s too late, you have to…

Smack.

The impact of his palm on your butt is sudden, but it takes your breath away for a second. Your mouth slightly parts, yet there is no sound coming out of it. You’re taken aback.

“I think I asked you to repeat yourself, haven’t I?”

He sticks his tongue out, tracing a vertical line along your neck, viciously nibbling on your sensitive skin as his hand rubs circles on your aching butt. His teeth then reach your earlobe, sending inebriating vibrations throughout your core.

You hesitate, and he slaps you again, this time it stings so much you bury your face into the crook of his neck. You bite the bottom of your lip, exhaling.

“P-Please, Suguru…” Stop it, let go of me, “Please, fuck me.”

He chuckles, and gently grabs you by the back of your neck, only to connect your mouths again. “You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs in a husky voice before sucking on your lower lip, releasing it with a light pop, “I missed you so fuckin’ much.”

As he pulls away, a thin thread of saliva separates you. Suguru’s hands grab the hems of your Kuromi shirt, uncovering your breasts, and he wastes no time as he starts sucking on the hardened buds.

“S-Suguru, mhhh…”

Your hands firmly grip his shoulders, head tilted back in pure bliss. You are drenched, and Suguru is quick to notice that: with a swift movement - which produces yet another squeal from you - he has you laying down, back against the soft cushions of the sofa.

You feel extremely defenseless as he positions himself above you, arms secured at the sides of your waist. You take a moment to admire how his long hair gracefully drops down, perfectly framing his face.

“I forgot how pretty you looked underneath me.”

He hums, and this has you clench your thighs together, yearning for some so much needed friction. Suguru then leans forward and places a soft kiss to your temple, and at the same time, his hands roughly grasp your legs to separate them exposing your drenched shorts.

“Would you look at that, already so wet for me, aren’t ya.”

You glance away for a mere second, your eyes scanning your surroundings just not to look at him. However, before you can tilt your head back in place, his mouth is on your clothed pussy: the warmth of his breath makes you throb in anticipation, as he taunts you, sucking on the fabric of your pyjamas.

Suguru adores the way you whimper, hips moving relentlessly as you attempt to grind against his mouth — needing more than what he is giving you. Yet, seeing you struggle for his attention makes his cock twitch. He pulls down your shorts, playing a little with your lace panties before leaving you completely naked.

“You’re so wet, princess, so fucking needy. You want my cock so bad?”

You let out a loud moan as he slides his fingers through your slick, coating them in your sweet juices. You don’t respond, and that seems to displease him, because he suddenly stops.

You’re about to protest when a stinging pain vibrates throughout your cunt, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your first instinct is to close your legs. But Suguru slaps you across your pussy again, a stern look on his face, eyes entirely darkened.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes!” You whimper, the pain fading away all too quickly.

“Yes, what, mh?”

“Yes, yes I want your cock- please…”

“What do you want, again?”

He was tormenting you, knowing to be the only one in control of the situation. But you were a mess already, and you really wanted him, no, you needed him.

You stretched out your arm, hand groping his bulge making Suguru inhale through gritted teeth.

“I-I want your cock to fill me up, Suguru.”

Normally, you would wish you could wipe off the grin that had formed on his face. Yet, as he starts rubbing his tip against your folds, you forget about all that. Your ankles are positioned on his shoulders and his hands grasp your waist tightly, probably leaving marks as a result. He then pushes you into him without any warning, leaving you breathless, and speechless once more.

“F-Fuck, Y/N, you feel so fucking amazing, princess.” He grunts, taking a moment to feel your plush walls embrace his cock perfectly. “Haven’t felt this perfect pussy in a while.”

“S-Sugu…-”

His thrusts are rough, hips relentless as he fucks deep into you, your walls clenching at his words. It feels so fucking good, and it doesn’t take long before you’re a babbling mess, moaning his name and earning even more mean thrusts from him.

It makes no sense, you should hate him. You should hate the man who abandoned you, who turned his back on you when…

Suguru squeezes your cheeks together, forcing you to look directly at him, eyes locked with his. “Don’t think, you always think too much, pretty,” He then bends your knees with both his arms, literally squeezing you against the couch and his body, angling his cock so deeply that your eyes roll back.

“Look at that, I’m fucking you dumb. You’re such a good girl letting me fuck you dumb like this, huh? I bet you touched yourself thinkin’ about- mmh, fuck!- about me all these years.”

You try your best to nod, incoherent words leaving your lips as your eyes start getting glossy. The lewd squelching sounds his cock makes as he goes in and out of your pussy combined with your sweet mewls are driving Suguru crazy.

He slows down watching the creamy ring formed around his cock, a mixture of his pre-cum and your delicious juices. Then he lifts his gaze to look at you: tongue slightly stuck out, saliva on your chin, tears of pleasure streaming down your face.

“Aren’t you precious? Mhh- fuck, baby, I think I’m close.”

Your walls clench once again as he begins stretching you out once more, steady thrusts slapping against your cunt. The stimulation the friction gives you, and his cock constantly hitting the spot you love most is enough to make you arch your back, shock waves of pure bliss and pleasure making you scream his name.

“Sugu- Suguru… mhhh'love this, love you so much-”

Suguru can’t take it anymore, the sight of you being subdued by him, your body melting into his own as his pace slows down, but the thrusts get harder. Only you can look so heavenly underneath him, and only he can manipulate you however he wants.

He finally reaches his high, throwing his head back as he fills you up with his warm seed, making you reach your second orgasm. His breath is hitched as he pulls out of you, his cum leaking out of your over-stimulated pussy. Your forehead is sweaty, and some strands of hair are attached to it, yet you don’t seem to care.

There are no other words exchanged between the two of you, and the silence yet again fills up the room. Your eyes are fixated on the ceiling, and although you can’t see him, you hear him standing up.

“You leaving?”

“Yeah,” he responds without a hint of hesitation in his voice, the tiniest inclination of sympathy, “I have to.”

“So you got what you wanted.” You try your best not to sound hurt, but you can’t hide the piercing pain in your chest. “Is this why you came here, just because you wanted someone to fuck? Was that the urgent matter to discuss?”

A low chuckle, that’s when you sit up on the couch. He’s looking directly at you, the glimpse of a smile you once loved depicted on his lips.

“Not just someone, Y/N.” He corrects you, but it doesn’t make it any better. No, in fact, it hurts even more.

“I didn’t mean it,” you utter, voice only a whisper as you ponder whether it’s worth it or not, to hurt him like he hurts you. “I didn’t mean it when I said that I love you.”

Checkmate, you think. Only, it is not pain that you see morphing on Suguru’s face once your gaze focuses on him again. In return, you receive nothing: his gaze seems to be devoid of all emotion, and that only magnifies the void formed in your chest.

“I can see that.” You look down, fully aware that you have just made a very dangerous mistake. You swallow the knot that has formed in your throat.

“But you see, Y/N, the big difference between you and me…” Suguru crouches down, lifting your chin with his index finger, lips a breath away from yours. “It’s that I don’t care.”

And with that he is gone, once again casting the enormous weight of his absence on your shoulders.

©fshigur0

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Prompt 7 with Malleus? And the reader as the ghost? 😳

Visions of the Past; Malleus Draconia

Content; Gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort, pining left unresolved

Content Warning; Reader death (not heavily described)

Word Count; 700+

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

Time heals all wounds. But Malleus knew that wasn’t true. Yes, time may heal physical wounds, although not always perfectly, but it no longer weeps or festers. Whereas emotional wounds, such as trauma, grief, and anger do not fade or heal in the same manner as a cut would.

Malleus was standing outside the entrance of Ramshackle, once his nightly walking grounds turned to the home of the first person that befriended him for him. The first person who didn’t know or care, even after finding out about his identity, that he was the Malleus Draconia. A magicless human who treated him as they did with others, but with a tad bit more ease, humour, and kindness since they were friends.

Were friends.

His heart knew though that you weren’t just friends. He had felt this emotion before to some extent with his passion for gargoyles, but they paled in comparison to you.

Your brightness. Your laugh. Your little mannerisms that most wouldn’t pay attention to, but he did. 

“Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re older,” you mused while on one of your nightly walks with Malleus. Malleus furrowed his brow and looked at you quizzically, “Why wouldn’t we be? I have no intention of not being in your life.” You had stopped moving forward and Malleus came to a stop beside you. “Well, I don’t know. You’re a prince, future king, and you might get swapped in royal business and duties…” You pursed your lips, an unpleasant taste in your mouth. “And isn’t that more important?”  “Do you not like spending time with me?” Malleus’ voice was more sharp, on edge. “NO!” You shouted, the word echoing a bit in the quiet night. “I like spending time with you. I love it!” Malleus looked at you with confusion, and if he were looking at anyone else the way he had been in the past minute, they would have been grovelling, asking for forgiveness. But not you.  “Then why did you bring it up in the first place? Should there not be time, I will simply make it,” he said quietly. A small smile and chuckle replaced the irritated look of moments prior, “I will even make it ‘royal business’ as you put it.” You cough-laughed at his statement, but you only laughed harder when you looked at him to see a baffled expression.  Malleus chuckled lightly, joining your amusement, even though he didn’t understand what was so funny that had you tearing up. You let out a long sigh, recollecting yourself. “Well, I’ll be there then, promise.”

And you had held that promise. Despite both of your hectic lives, you both met at least twice a month. If neither of you had the time? Well, Malleus would just show up outside your place, like old times, and you would both go about the property. Sometimes talking away, and other times in silence, just happy to be next to each other again.

Malleus knew he liked you, loved you even — the way he felt more like himself when he was around you, and a tinge of jealousy made that distinction clear — and he was planning on asking you if you felt the same.

But he didn’t have the chance.

He would never have the chance.

He knew that he wouldn’t have many years with you, but he had planned that it was old age that took you away from him.

Ramshackle had not changed, but Malleus could still smell the scent of soot, even after all of these years. The foyer stopped, and Malleus looked into the gloom of the burnt ruins.

“ … do you remember our promise?”

He had been coming here, once a fortnight, asking the same question and hoping for an answer. Every time all he ever received was the sound of rotting wood and the scampering of mice.

He took in a breath and was ready to leave, to go back to his duties, but he stopped.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He couldn’t see you, but you were here. And that was all that mattered to Malleus. That although you may not physically be here anymore, he had not lost you.

Time may heal all wounds, but Malleus didn’t want this wound to heal. He didn’t want to lose you, not again.

. . .

. . .

A/N; Hope you enjoyed what I came up with for this combination! And *hands you an emotional dragon fae that misses you*

~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @keii-starz @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @syrenkitsune @the-v-lociraptor @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[plantswithme]

sambucky instagram posts part 8/?

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7

[icycoldninja]

Dating Sephiroth headcannons

-Sephiroth is the kind of person to ignore you completely at times, and at other times, scoop you into his arms and just hold you there without saying anything.

-He can be very cold and doesn't always tell you he loves you, but he does. Inside, he's the most devoted man on earth and will do absolutely anything for you, before and after his mental breakdown.

-Though he'll never say it outright, he loves you with all his heart; you are the dearest person in the world to him, the only woman he loves more is Jenova. If you asked him to kill for you, he most certainly would. You two but especially you are his goddesses.

-Takes the time to visit you multiple times a day, every day, even if nothing interesting happens. To him, nothing is more important than spending time with his beloved.

-Nicknames (which are rarely used) for you are: Princess, baby, darling, little dove, my love, and fluffpuff.

-Concerning the origin of "fluffpuff", it all began when he purchased a huge, extrmely fluffy baby chocobo onesie for you. Once you put it on, you might as well have been a walking blanket. It was so adorable, his heart melted and the nickname "fluffpuff" was born.

-Loves to do beauty days with you, especially after a long day at work. He's a big strong soldier man, but at the same time, a cute soft boy. He needs some pampering in his life, give it to him.

-Cuddling you is one of his favorite ways to de-stress. He loves to curl himself up around you and just sit there in silence, enjoying your company and relaxing. He also likes lying on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist, while you play with his hair.

-Poor boy gets frequent night terrors and needs a lot of comforting kisses after waking up in a terrified, cold sweat. He does get a bit cold and bristly after such events, so do be gentle. Wrap him up in your arms, kiss his cheeks, forehead, lips, all over, just make him feel loved.

-Sephiroth's like a scared cat most of the time; you need to be gentle and coax him out of his shell. Then he'll start opening up to you and confide in you--some of his secrets can be very dark, but getting them off his chest is a huge help to his mental health.

-Speaking of mental health, as we know, he's not exactly in his right mind. He can be unstable and a little violent, though he would never hurt you. He'd throw things, he'd break things, he'd yell and scream, but he'd never actually hurt you--a sign of how much he loves you.

-If you can mange to calm him down during his tantrums, he'll love you all the more. You are the most precious thing to him; anything you do for him is viewed as a blessing. ❤️

[angel-of-the-moons]

Reversal

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sex, Sex toys, Top(?) Reader, Bottom(?) Miguel, Reader being Nasty, Size Kink, Height Difference, Overstimulation (almost), Edging(?), Canon event: Miguel likes it up the ass from time to time

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Blame thank @oharaludes for this (Also I lied I should be asleep but I stayed up to write this now instead of tomorrow because akhdlhslhflhohofnsondlndlnc I couldn't afford to lose the spark™)

(Any Spanish spoken is in italics and is largely translated by Google. Header does not indicate reader's race. I really need to get more creative at making these asdfghjkl)

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Miguel O'Hara was a man who had to be in control at all times. He had to oversee who went on what mission, who to let into the Society, who to hunt down, what universes to monitor, which anomalies threatened the safety of the multiverse...

He was not known for willingly relinquishing his control.

But, being in control all the time, bearing all that weight had limitations. Sometimes, it just became too much and you would need to let it go for a bit, get the weight off your back and relax.

But then... Miguel had you.

You were probably the only respite Miguel had in the multiverse. And you were right under his nose the entire time. He convinced himself to go back to his universe, to visit his brother. He missed him.

But... he went back...

Just to find you. You were spunky, playful, and annoyingly gorgeous. And you happened to be one of Gabriel's newest best friends.

Poor Gabriel had a heart attack when he swung by your apartment to drop off the computer he was fixing for you, just to walk in and see you and Miguel on the couch in a rather compromising position.

You told Miguel you swore that his brother's brain exploded when he almost fainted.

But hey! Your computer worked again!

Not too long after, you decided to make it official. Official as in "he told you everything" official.

Gabriel just made you two swear you'd lock your front door next time.

Right now however, the nostalgia of that day lost its novelty as exhaustion and frustration crept into his body as he dragged his feet into your apartment, unlocking the door with your security code and letting himself in.

There you were. Gorgeous as the day he first saw you

One of his shirts hung off your shoulder, and down past your thighs. He couldn't resist the smile that snaked its way onto his face when he smelled you.

"Ah, Miguel! How is your universe saving thingy going, amor?" You said, flinging your arms around him as he gripped you tight, burying his nose in your hair to inhale the soft scent of you.

Coffee, chocolate, and strawberries. That's what you always smelled like.

"Exhausting." He sighed loosing his grip on you just enough to look down at you. You were so goddamn short.

It was cute, honestly.

You frowned up at him, those gorgeous lips of yours quirking down. "Ven y siéntate?"

Miguel let you pull him by the hand to the couch, where you sat down first and patted your lap.

Miguel smiled again as he accepted your silent request, lying on your couch (though mostly curled up due to his sheer size alone) and laid his head in your lap.

Your fingers dove into the soft chocolate locks on his head, massaging his scalp with your nails and he made a soft groan of contentment at the sensation.

"Now, tell me about it?" You hummed.

"Later... right now I want to relax. Olvida todas esas cosas." He mumbled softly, closing his eyes, his thumb caressing your knee softly.

"Just want to relax." He repeated, turning his face into the plus of your thighs.

He could smell you. And he knew that you knew it.

And you were never one for subtlety.

But you were one for playing coy when it suited you.

"Aw... Miggy." You purr, combing through his hair softly. "You really do need to relax, honey."

"I can think of a way." He growled, turning his head again, so he can place a kiss to the top of your thigh, making you giggle.

"Nuh-uh. How about we switch things up today, hm?" You grin.

He looked up at you.

"¿Qué quieres decir?"

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He should have known.

Of course.

Of course you were waiting for the right moment to breach this subject.

And of course you knew he'd say yes, he almost always said yes to you.

It was... odd. Not unpleasant. But odd. Normally he tops in bed, pinning you down, biting marks into your skin, sucking hickeys here and there as he pounded you into the mattress until your eyes crossed and you were a babbling incoherent mess.

And of course, you also had everything planned out.

Because when you had a plan, you had all your bases covered.

Like right now.

Somehow, you talked him into letting you top him for the night. Taking control from him and just helping him enjoy it. And you assured him he would.

You anticipated the holes he'd tear into your bed with his talons, the curses he'd spit...

What you weren't expecting though, was the soft whimpers and deep groans coming from him. How absolutely pliant he became while you fucked him with the strap-on you had secured to your waist.

You would continue to apply more lube as you fucked him here and there, stopping to grip his hips for stability, the pillow under him helping keep him angled for you.

You half wanted to have him get on all fours so you could fuck him that way, but it would ruin the other part of your plan.

"So good for me." You purr, running your fingers up his abs, tracing the small scars he's picked up over the years.

You jerked your hips upwards, not hitting his prostate but enough to make his eyes roll and him snarl through hissed teeth.

When he cursed, he wanted it to come out harsher. He meant for it to sound more... authoritative.

But all that came out was a whiny, breathy gasp.

"¡Mierda!"

You giggled, and stilled your hips just a moment to grab the bottle of lube, squirting some onto your hand as you wrapped around his throbbing length.

Not that you ever needed to use lube when you jerked him off, the man leaked so much precum that he could just use it on its own.

But, you liked the lewd sounds it helped make when you drag your fist up and down his cock.

He was so big you could barely wrap your hand around him.

You dragged your hand up his shaft slowly, leisurely tracing each vein as you rolled your hips in a consistent pace, not quite giving him the relief he wanted, but edging him just enough that he slowly just became undone under you, like you had so many times under him.

"Awww, cariño..." You tut, jerking him slowly, twisting your hand as you went to the angry and weeping head of his cock, rubbing your thumb over the slit and applying a bit of pressure there.

"Tell me what you want, baby." You grin, giving another sharp thrust, sending a sharp bolt of pleasure up his spine that hit him so hard he audibly gasped and you could hear it as his talons shredded your bedsheets.

"¡Mierda!" He groaned, the noise deep and rumbling and oh so needy that the very sound sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your cunt.

"Use your words, honey." You hum, arching your hips again as his thighs flexed, the muscles taut as he let out a shaky exhale, one arm going to drape over his face.

You clicked your tongue and reached up, swatting his arm aside so you could see that gorgeous face of his.

"Let me see you, mi amor." You say to him, making one long stroke, followed by a few short, hard ones, making him cry out again.

"Again, use your words, baby. What d'you want?"

"Fucking--" He growled. "I want to cum! Mierda I want to--"

You frowned again and let his cock go, slowing your pace to an agonizing crawl.

"Miguel..." You scold.

"P-Por favor." He whined, tipping his head back so you could see his Adams apple bob as he swallowed.

"Thaaaaat's it. I have something for you..." You say, reaching for the small velvet bag that rolled to your knee thanks to the weight dipping the bed.

He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide and his irises glowing a gorgeous crimson as you pulled out a small vibrator.

You smirked with satisfaction when you saw his cock jump, a new bead of precum dripping down onto his abs, adding to the rivulets that flowed down his sides already.

You turned it on and it buzzed to life in your hand, surprisingly loud for such a tiny thing. But damn, did you get your money's worth. You turned it off again and pressed it at the base of his cock, where the shaft met his taut and heavy balls.

"All right, since you asked nicely, I'll allow it."

The moment you turned it back on he dropped his head back with a sound that you swore would shred any other man's vocal chords, especially when you started thrusting where you knew he so desperately wanted it.

You grinned and bit your lip, thrusting up and hard, guiding the toy up and down his bobbing length, not giving him any relief.

You could tell by how tense his abs were and how desperately his hands pawed at your bedsheets that he was close.

"Go on and cum for me, cariño." You purr seductively; you punctuated every word with a thrust.

"Just." Smack!

"Like." Smack!

"This." Smack!

You dragged the small vibrator up to the tip of his cock, and thrust hard one last time, as he practically bellowed out your name as he came, hot ropes shooting out of his dick and coating his abs, parts of his chest, and completely coating the head of the vibrator.

You giggle and switch it off, and pull the strap out of him slowly, amused at how badly he was twitching for you.

"My idea was a good one, huh?" You say smugly.

Without looking at you, he sticks up his index finger.

"This time." He said, his eyes still closed as he came down from his high, his belly painted white.

"Pff. Hey, hey Miguel. Miguel. Hey. Heyyy!" You giggle, looking down at him, tapping his thigh to get him to answer you.

When Miguel finally looked at you, he had a soft scowl on his face, which immediately melted away when he watched you wrap your lips around the head of that damned toy, and lick every bit of his cum off the tip, making direct eye contact the whole time, humming like you were simply sucking on a piece of candy.

"¡Mierda!"

You shrieked and giggled when he pinned you down, spreading your legs with his thighs as he bit down on your shoulder, growling.

"My turn now, chica."

[itoshi-s]

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒

anon requested: yandere!rin + baby trapping // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wc: 3k. cw: nsfw, dark content, noncon (forced breeding), dead dove don't eat, unprotected sex, slight obsessive behavior but. what's new ꒰ minors + ageless blogs dni ꒱

as the sunlight seeps through the curtains - mellow and warm despite having risen just barely an hour or two ago - rin notices how pretty you look.

he's observant. always has been, especially on the field, but his eyes seem to be the sharpest when it's you they are scrutinizing. as he sits at the couch and digs his spoon into his oatmeal, he does exactly that - watches you, closely and quietly, something you've grown used to already during the past two years you've been together. you don't pay his gaze no mind as you pad around the living room, taking your time, having nowhere to rush just yet.

(you only ever wake up this early to spend just a bit more time with him before he leaves for his morning practice, giving up two hours of precious sleep you could indulge in. you're selfless, and rin appreciates- loves it.)

licking the spoon clean and letting it rest against his lips for a moment, rin takes note on how bright and smooth the delicate skin under your eyes looks. there's no trace of the grey undertones left, even though you haven't picked up any new skincare routine. the soft planes of your tummy look just a little less swollen, too, and you sigh happily when the button of your jeans pops into place with no resistance at all. there's more of that content smile he knows and adores and less of the mood swings that had his own annoyance spiking all too often.

as you join him on the couch, he glances towards your morning cup of coffee. you must not be feeling so fatigued all the time anymore, too, 'cause it seems you just opted out of the extra espresso shot in your lattes.

"how are you feeling?" rin asks, putting the bowl down on the table and instead pulling your feet into his lap. he massages up your calves gently as you hum questioningly.

"hm, good. why?" you take a sip of the warm beverage, fingers wrapping around the glass.

you look a little confused, not entirely caught up on what made him ask. the noiret tilts his head, fingers drumming along your shin.

"well, it's three weeks since you got off the pill," he points out, turquoise gaze following the way your mouth parts in realization. "the side effects are gone, aren't they? you look like you're doing better."

the fact rin has also noticed all the little signs you've grown aware of these past few days makes your heart flutter. it was obvious the recent form of contraception wasn't the best fit for you - well, you're pretty sure you could check off at least half of the listed side effects on the horrendously extensive leaflet. it'd be in fact impossible not to notice the sudden mood swings or lack of vigor, the excess water retention... instead, it's the way he spots the symptoms lessening that makes you giddy with endearment.

to be fair, it's only been a couple days since you picked up on it. (how does he do it so quickly? you're not sure.)

"oh- yup. it's a lot better now. i think it's finally wearing off for good." you set the mug down right next to rin's bowl, moving to straddle his lap instead. it must be muscle memory by this point, the way his hands move to rest on your hips before you even settle comfortably. "i kind of want to take a little break before i try anything else, though," you mumble and rin hums in acknowledgement.

you glance towards his face, lips quirking up when you're met with the all too familiar sparkle behind your boyfriend's gaze. you snicker, flicking his forehead.

"so-" you chuckle breathily when he leans in, nipping at your jaw in playful retaliation, "-we've gotta be careful."

it's a no-brainer to the both of you. of course you have to be extra cautious. you've established your views on parenthood back in the early stages of your relationship, the topic coming back around every few months - but nothing has changed since the first time you got around discussing it. you've got all the time in the world - three or four more seasons, maybe, or until you're finished doing your masters degree.

it's all clear, really. obvious.

"f'course, baby."

but you're too good, and it slowly drives rin up the wall where he cannot escape the dull ache in his chest anymore, yearning for more, all of it, all of you.

you're the greatest thing to happen to him - he never doubted that. it shows in the way you lean up on your tiptoes, pressing the sweetest kisses to his lips when he's about to step out the door; leaving little notes in his lunchboxes, always signed off with a little heart, something to bring a smile to his lips as he reaches for his after workout meal. you're sweet, always waiting up for him even when practice runs long - eyes drowsy and cheeks warm as you greet him at the door, arms wrapping around his waist. you're addicting when leaving half crescent moons along his silky skin, grabbing at his broad frame in euphoria as you hiccup his name like it's the only thing you know.

you're scaring him, too, you know?

a loop tightens around the throbbing muscle deep in his chest, threatening to snap and leave him scrambling to put the pieces back together when you first mention applying abroad for your postgraduate studies.

"i hope i get in." you say softly, voice a steady hum and you don't even look up from your laptop as you speak. maybe if you did, you'd notice the hurt written all over rin's face - a betrayal of sorts, that makes his pupils shrink and brows furrow in confusion.

he's being unfair. he knows - he's not stupid, never has been. you've packed your bags and left your former life behind as soon as he mentioned getting a better club offer. not even once did you make him feel bad about it. you never whined nor complained and perhaps, it's exactly what made rin's love for you grow so much stronger. you only ever saw it as a new opportunity, plenty new possibilities opening right before the both of you - you were happy for him, god, you were so proud.

why can't he bring himself to feel the same?

it seems unreasonable to him at first. you'll only have to leave every two weeks, just for the weekends, and since money's never the problem as long as he's around, you'll take the private jet, too, if that means you get home faster. it's not like you're leaving him, lonely in this ridiculously huge penthouse that feels all too overwhelming when he's the only one in it.

but up until this point, you've been gracing him with so much of your attention and time, each and every day, that the thought of anything else taking up a chunk of it makes his heart sink.

there's plenty of ways to stifle this irrational fear. (talking it out, for starters. but rin's not good at that, you know it, he knows it.) this, though, might be the one that'll work best.

should he feel bad? regretful, maybe, for what he's putting you through? probably, yeah, but it's not like the way your pussy creams around him and sucks him in deep allows any sort of sober thinking, anyway.

a guttural groan rips through rin's throat, forehead clammy as it presses against yours, lips gleaming with spit from where they're an inch shy from locking with your own. sinewy thighs tense with each ruthless thrusts that send you jerking upwards and grabbing onto his bicep desperately.

you sob his name so sweetly, whimpers bubbling from your parted lips, chanting quiet pleas for more. it's quickly muffled by rin's tongue as he drinks the honeyed sounds right up, lapping at your mouth. rin is always almost too much to handle - overbearing every sense, seeping into every cell, making every synapse spark with scorching hot pleasure. tonight, it almost seems like he's worse. his hips slam against yours, bones bruising one another when he presses deeper, changing the angle so that there's not an inch denied of your warmth. a milky white, creamy ring forms at the very base of rin's girth, a mess from your juices and previous orgasms, and creates the lewd shlick sound that cuts through the humid air with each firm thrust.

"ah- hah! rin, rin," you whine, lashes sticking together from unconscious tears, head lulling to the side as you gasp. "good- s' good, please- !"

the man only grunts in response, breath hitching deep in his chest and he struggles slightly to retrieve it between forceful strokes, "yeah? feels good, yeah, baby?" rin utters the praise right against your jaw, fingers digging into the and slipping to grab your cheeks instead, glistening with tears and spit.

sharply, he pulls back, merely a few inches but just enough to take a look at your face, contorted in ecstasy. he eyes you closely, breath mingling with your own from the close proximity, and there's nothing short of formidable simmering behind those pretty teal hues. jet black pupils swallow you whole, blown until the familiar teal only shines like a halo, crazed but pretty as ever.

"you gonna cum, hm? show me, c'mon, be good, fuck- be my good girl." and when he speaks, he's not asking, not coaxing you - demanding is the best way to put it, and it has you shuddering underneath his weight, draped over your frame like you've got nowhere to run from the white hot pleasure he's feeding you.

your jaw aches and eyes roll back, almost crossing over, as your tongue lolls out deliriously. rin's cheeks blister with arousal and for a second, his rhythm falters and mind blanks, hard cock twitching inside of you with need. he only forces a shaky breath, one hand hurriedly reaching for one of your ankles that digs into his lower back, the other soon following.

rin doesn't struggle one bit in hauling your legs up, the sheer strength of corded muscle flexing against your nails, bluntly digging into the flesh of his biceps still. for a second, it doesn't seem like you catch up on what's happened - not even when your knees knock against your chest and ass lifts off the soaked mattress just slightly - until you gasp for breath feverishly, fingers tightening on his arm. with another stroke forward, rin's cock reaches deep and fills you up to the hilt. it's too much, so much, he's so deep - you're sure you can feel him all the way up in your tummy, and the realization, as erotic and lewd as it is, tears a blubbery whine from your mouth and causes your eyes to widen.

he almost feels sorry for you as the incoherent, treacly mewls come tumbling out with each frenzied, shallow breath. his large hands grab behind your knees, fingers digging into the doughy flesh of your thighs and he uses the position as a leverage of sorts, only pressing your trembling frame further into the bed. you're pliable, soft and out of your mind, fucked dumb at the end of his weeping cock - and fuck, you're so pretty, this is not enough.

it's not enough until he has all of you, rin thinks, head heavy with the frenzy of thoughts that seem to send jolts of electricity right down to where your bodies meet. his balls tighten, pulling into his body and he groans, slipping one of his hands to rest at the small of your back instead, the other settling in it's righteous place around your jugular.

"o-oh-" you yelp, hands scrambling to grab at his wrist. "pl-please, rin, m'gonna cum, gonna cum-"

the flickering stars behind your eyes and sickly sweet pleas give it away. you're close, he can tell, from the warmth oozing around the base of his cock and irregular, sinful throbbing of your slick walls. he's breathless, dark green strands matted to his forehead with sweat as he searches for your eyes.

he wants to see you, wants to watch.

"go on," rin coaxes, voice a gravelly tune that has the ache in your tummy growing stronger. "cum for me, pretty, yeah? fuck- cum with me, hm?"

blood rushes into your ears when the hand digging into your back slips to the front, thumb finding your swollen clit with ease. euphoria seeps into every struggling breath as rin's grip tightens and finger starts sloppily rubbing circles on the hardened nub. and it's heavenly, has your brain turning to mush until he presses his lips to your cheek, uttering nonsense and grunting and you realize-

"rin- rin, out-" you drawl, hips bucking against his hand and toes curling at the side of his head, "p-pull out,"

through the thick haze of your mind, you make out the way rin's chest presses against yours, trapping you under more of his weight. panic settles in your chest when you feel his fingers flex around your neck, pushing your head further into the pillows and successfully knocking the breath right out your aching lungs. one of your hand scrambles to push at his chest to no avail.

"don't," he chokes out, pubic bone rutting against your mound, digging his thumb harder against your abused clit. "gonna take care of you, make you feel- good, ah, make you feel s' good, promise." he grits his teeth, urges every muscle to push harder, until your hips jolt underneath his and bed creaks all too loud at the sheer force of his thrusts.

you sound almost in pain, rin realizes. you always do when folded so pretty under his body, ankles shaking on top of his shoulders and head thrashing backwards. yet this time, as he hungrily takes in the look on your face, there's something else he recognizes in your eyes, glossed over with crystalline tears that soon slip down the reddened flesh of your cheeks.

(he doesn't like the thought of it being fear.)

"let me." he breathes, as if he's given you any choice, and ruts himself into you sloppily, thumb reaching up your jaw to stuff between your lips, parted in teary pleads. spit bubbles past the corner of your mouth and around the digit as he forces it further down.

your legs quiver, jerking against the sturdy muscle of rin's chest and to your horror, the cotton between your ears only grows thicker, a white noise that slowly overtakes every sense. your limbs feel heavy, limp underneath rin's weight, and there's no way you're fighting back the piercing heat that builds deep in your core.

"pl- pw'ease, r-in," you're crying. the realization hits him and only adds fuel to this twisted desire that crawls up his back and spurs him on to pound into you harder, split your writhing tight body open on his cock until you break and tremble and-

somewhere between the tight circles he draws on your clit, you tense up, back arching and thighs jostling against his front as you wail. he swallows all the broken moans that drip out your swollen mouth, licks at your tongue as his thumb forces your jaw open some more - feeds on the salty aftertaste your tears have left, and fuck, rin might just feel like crying, too, you know? how could he not, when you're giving him those starry eyes, dumbfounded and wide before they roll backwards in euphoria?

the coil in his gut finally snaps and he groans, guttural sounds bleeding into something more of a shattered whine as he pounds into you. it takes two, three more snaps of his hips before he bottoms out, quads crammed against the back of your thighs as finally, he's spilling himself inside of you. it's too much, has rin's body jostling at the electricity that sears down his abdomen with each thick, heavy spurt right against your cervix. he gasps and allows his mouth to fall open, teal eyes frantic as they search for your face through thick noir lashes. you cannot move, not an inch, not even as you push at the broad of his chest in frail attempts to make some space.

he doesn't even budge. if anything, that helpless little fit of yours only made his cock twitch to life again, mere seconds after he has barely caught his breath from possibly one of the hardest orgasms he's ever had. still, he collapses on top of you, earning himself a squeal from where you're folded underneath him, and gives one last groan before pressing his face in your neck, warm and pulsating with your erratic heartbeat.

rin gently eases his hands around your thighs, pulling them from underneath his body, and slowly, steadily moves them to wrap around his lithe waist instead. you whimper, the dull ache settling in, and yet it's nothing compared to the hole that starts to dig itself in your chest. bitter realization starts to make itself home right in the raw tear, gnawing at every thread of confusion that loops around your heart - tightening with each huff of breath rin exhales into your neck.

"rin-" you start, voice breaking midway and eyes blinking once, bleary with hesitation. you feel him move from his spot, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

the silence is deafening, ringing in your ears and settling heavy on your shoulders. when rin hushes you, pressing his lips to yours and tilting his hips forward again, you think that you actually like the eerie quiet better than his voice.

"don't." he mutters, hand reaching up to grab at the soft fat of your cheeks.

you don't have it in you to protest.

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.