#『 🍷 』 ◞◟ with blood & tears

[yourdarlingness]

Aventurine (Honkai Star Rail)　✦　tumblr layouts

『 F2U 』　;　rb, like, and credit if using

requested by @spindrft　·　tagging @puresel

[ariestrxsh]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🍷content warning: smut, innocence corruption, praise, mommy kink, thigh riding, oral (m!receiving), glasses kink, loss of virginity, sub!virgin!matt, dom!reader, friends to lovers

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🍷summary: you and matt are best friends and share everything with one another - except for what you each sound like in bed - that is, until now.

this fic was requested/inspired by this ask 💋

never lose me

"I have a question," you told your best friend Matt over dinner, leaning in closer to him and peeking up at him before you took a big bite of your pasta. You'd invited him out to celebrate a promotion you'd gotten at work, and you also wanted to ask for boy advice.

"What's up?" He asked, tearing off a piece of garlic bread and popping it into his mouth. He pushed up the bridge of his glasses as he made eye contact with you. "When you're having sex with a girl, does it bother you when she's loud?" You giggled, kind of embarrassed to ask.

"Why would that bother me?" Matt asked, his blue eyes darting around while he thought about how to answer your questions without confessing to you that he was a virgin. "I don't know. It's just this new guy I've been casually seeing. He's like, really quiet in bed. Almost makes me feel weird for being as loud as I am," you admitted.

He nodded to let you know he was listening, but behind his glazed over stare, he was thoroughly imagining all the naughty words you'd say and all the ways you'd scream whilst in the throes of ecstasy.

"He doesn't say much. He doesn't moan very much. I can't tell if I'm not satisfying him or if he's just shy," you confided in him, smoothing out your crimson dress that hugged your curves so snugly. "Well, have you tried asking him?" Matt timidly responded, studying the way your pretty red lipstick looked.

"Well, kind of. I mean, when I'm giving him head or stroking it for him, I'll ask, 'Do you like that, baby?'" You said in a seductive tone. Matt found it difficult to look you in the eye as he felt blood rushing to his appendage below his waist at the tone of voice you used. He took his napkin and subtly placed it on his lap to hide his growing erection.

"Mhmm," Matt nodded, halfway reassuring you that he was listening and halfway answering the question you'd just asked. "And he'll say it just like that, 'mhmm,' but even the way you said it sounded more convincing than when he says it. I just feel like he's not into it."

You took a sip of your red wine, your third glass of the night, leaving a lipstick print behind on the glassware. "Well, he's probably just nervous. I can't imagine he wouldn't like it when you.. do that stuff to him," Matt struggled to get out, twisting his ring like he always did when he was thinking about something.

"Are you shy in bed? I get the feeling you want to be loud, but you hold back," you lowered your volume, smirking at him. "That's none of your business!" He widened his eyes and smiled at you while he blushed. "See? You're already getting all shy on me," you laughed, taking another drink.

He nibbled on his lip and fiddled with his ring some more, and you noticed it had been a while since he touched his food. "Matty, are you okay? I didn't mean to get too personal with you or anything. I just get curious about what you're like in bed sometimes," you chuckled, reaching over and brushing your thumb against the back of Matt's hand.

Matt's gaze flickered up at yours and he raised his eyebrows in a surprised expression. "What!? You don't ever think about that kind of thing?" You replied, your cheeks turning pink. "I mean, of course I do," he laughed, hiding his face behind his hands.

"Why don't you satisfy my curiosity then and tell me how you sound?" You playfully flirted with him, slipping off your high heel and running your foot up Matt's pant leg, which turned Matt on even more. "Listen. I would have told you by now if I knew," Matt timidly replied, looking up at you for your reaction. "What do you mean?" You asked, gathering and twisting your noodles with your fork.

"I mean, I've never had sex," Matt said quietly, bracing for your reaction. He knew you weren't the type to tease him about it, but he was just so used to it by now that he was already prepared for it. You accidentally lost your grip on your fork and it fell against your plate with a loud clatter as you peered up at him once more.

"Never?" You asked with a bit of pity resounding in your voice. "Never," he innocently shook his head. "But surely you've done other stuff," you insinuated, picking your fork back up and picking at your food. "Nope," Matt softly answered, picking up his glass of water. "Why not, Matty? There's no way you haven't had any offers," you answered.

You knew Matt never talked about his sex life with you, but you always assumed it was just because he was being a gentleman and respecting the privacy of his sexual partners. It's not like Matt wasn't good-looking, and even though he was a bit dorky, you always found that endearing about him.

"I mean, girls are interested in me, and I can usually tell when they are, but all the girls who have ever been interested are so indirect, and all they do is drop hints like they want me to make the first move. I'm just not really into that. I want a woman who pursues me for once," Matt shrugged, adjusting his glasses again.

"So, you're saving your virginity for a dominatrix?" You raised an eyebrow at him, teasing him and giving him a sly smirk. You watched as Matt got all flustered and started running his fingers through his brown hair. "Well, I wouldn't word it like that. I just want a woman who's in charge and knows what she wants," Matt replied, blushing.

"Yeah? You want her to boss you around a little in bed, baby?" You cooed through your seductive smile. Matt rolled his eyes and let out a nervous giggle, but he neither confirmed nor denied your allegation.

You knew that your friendship with Matt was unconventional. You guys often did things together and talked about topics that most people would consider to be inappropriate for friends to engage in, but neither one of you minded how close you were. After all, you were just friends.

The waitress approached your table, offered you some boxes to take the rest of your food to go, and dropped off the check. Matt started to reach for his wallet, but you stopped him. "No, no, no. I invited you out, baby. I'll pay for your dinner," you grinned at him, reaching for your purse.

"Twisted my arm," Matt jokingly scoffed at you and acted like it was the biggest inconvenience to put his wallet back into his pocket, but he secretly loved that you always insisted on covering his bill. After you'd paid and left a generous tip, you went to get up from your chair.

"You ready, Matt?" You asked, standing up and grabbing your purse and your coat. "Uh, wait. You think we could sit here for a few more minutes?" Matt latched onto your arm, stopping you from leaving the table. There was an urgency in his voice.

"Yeah, of course. Why? What's up?" You tilted your head at him and softly caressed his face. "Please. You're gonna make it worse. Need just a few minutes. That's all," he said, batting your hand away. Your eyes traveled to the napkin placed over his lap, and you picked up on what the problem was.

"Oh, don't worry. We'll wait here until it goes away," you smirked at Matt, biting your lip. He blushed and let out a nervous laugh at how easily turned on he was, but you secretly loved it.

Once Matt's hard on had subsided, the two of you made your way back out into the parking lot, your red heels clicking against the pavement beneath you. You threw your arm around his shoulder, steadying yourself on him and towering over him. He reciprocated your gesture, hooking his arm around your waist.

"So, do you really think about what I sound like in bed?" He teased you, unable to let go of that tidbit of information you'd shared earlier. "Oh, from time to time," you snickered. You pulled your keys out of your bag and went to unlock your car, but Matt reached for them. "Hey, how about I drive? You've had a few drinks."

"Yeah, just a few," you rolled your eyes, holding your keys out of his reach. "Come on. I know that you're careful. But what if someone else causes an accident? Then you'd automatically be at fault because you had three glasses of wine tonight," Matt looked at you with his big, blue eyes.

He knew you were stubborn, but he always knew how to reason with you. "Fine," you smiled at him, handing him your keys and hopping into the passenger seat.

Matt started up your car, tilted the rearview mirror down, and moved the seat forward a bit to adjust to how much shorter he was than you. "It's so weird seeing you in the driver's seat. You're always my passenger princess," you teased him, connecting your phone to bluetooth and throwing on one of your playlists. He playfully side-eyed you as you serenaded him from the passenger seat.

When he pulled up to your house, he lowered the volume on your car speakers. "Hey, you mind if I crash here tonight? I kind of didn't think about the fact that I don't have a ride home unless I take your car," he innocently asked, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

"Of course you can stay here, Matt. You're always welcome to stay the night with me," you ran your thumb over the back of his hand again, a gesture you did often because you knew how much Matt valued physical touch. You stepped out of your car and grabbed your purse and your coat, slinging both over your shoulder. Matt, who still had your keys, unlocked your front door, letting the two of you inside.

You steadied yourself using Matt's shoulder as you stepped out of your heels, one foot at a time, still towering over the boy by a few inches. "You know, Matt. I don't think you should be self-conscious about being a virgin. I think it's really hot," you giggled into his ear, unable to stop thinking about how pure and innocent he was.

"Well, I was never insecure about it until people laughed at me when I told them," Matt responded, looking down and pushing up his glasses. "That's because other people are insecure and convinced that everything is a race. Don't worry about them," you drunkenly responded. "Thanks for saying that," Matt shrugged and gave you a smile.

"Come up to my room with me, Matty," you cooed, running your stiletto nails through his hair. He glanced up at you with a submissive expression and nodded, following you up the stairs. His gaze landed on your legs, and he silently appreciated every curve as you led him up to your bed in a calculated manner.

"I wanna shower before bed. Will you help me with my zipper?" You asked him once the two of you were standing in your master bedroom outside your bathroom. "Sure," Matt replied, feeling the tension in the air as you spun around, peeking over your shoulder.

He took the zipper between his two shaky fingers and slowly pulled it down, revealing your back to him. "Come hang out with me while I shower so I don't get bored?" You invited him in, batting your lashes in his direction. "Yeah," he replied in a soft tone.

You turned the dial on your tub and began running the water while you grabbed your makeup wipes and started washing the lipstick from your mouth. Matt sat on the edge of your bathroom counter, watching you remove the pigmented color from your face.

"Matty, I know you don't know what you sound like during sex, but indulge me for a second. How do you sound when you touch yourself?" You softly asked him, looking into his blue eyes. His cheeks started to turn bring red, and his face grew warm. "Um, I guess I'm not super loud, but I make some noise, and I definitely have to try to stay quiet," Matt disclosed to you.

"Yeah? I bet you whimper," you smirked at Matt. "Why are you thinking about that?" Matt wondered, teasing you and purposely ignoring your accusation. "Just a little curious. That's all," you seductively replied, still buzzing from the wine. "Well, just for the record, I think I would like it if a girl were loud in bed," Matt smirked at you. "Oh, really?" You asked, licking your lips. "Mhmm," he quietly answered you.

"No peeking," you ordered Matt as you started to slip out of your dress. He covered his eyes and shut them until you'd disappeared behind the shower curtain. "You can look now," you said to Matt as you tilted your head back, allowing the hot water to drench your hair.

He let his eyes adjust back to the bathroom lighting, and he watched as the steam in the air began to fill the space in front of him. He took off his glasses, wiping the condensation that was in the air from them before placing them back on his face.

"Thank you for driving me home and for being such good company," you thanked Matt from the other side of the curtain. "That's what friends are for," he responded, but the word friends started to lose its meaning and began to seem more like a strange sound than an actual term the longer it tumbled around in Matt's head.

"So this guy you've been seeing," Matt started off with a twinge of jealousy in his voice. "What about him?" You peeked your head out from behind the curtain with shampoo in your hair. "Do you think you'll end up dating him?" Matt asked, his eyes flickering up at you from his ring he was fidgeting with again.

"I don't know. I don't want to sound superficial, but the fact that he's so quiet during sex and doesn't give me any reassurance that I'm doing a good job is kind of a dealbreaker. It really kills the mood for me," you admitted, removing your detachable shower head and rinsing out your hair with it.

"What kinds of things would you want him to say?" Matt casually wondered out loud. "It's kind of embarrassing," you started to say, scrubbing your body. "You can tell me. I won't laugh," Matt assured you. "Well, I'd want him to moan really loud for me and not hold back," you started to say, letting your imagination take over.

"I'd want him to tell me how good I'm making him feel," you said, your hand dipping between your legs and softly running it along your folds while you pictured it was Matt under your control, saying this all to you.

"I'd want him to say something like, 'just like that mommy' when I'm doing something with my tongue that he really likes," you hissed through your teeth as you spread your lips open with two fingers, letting the warm water from the shower head hit your most sensitive place.

Matt quietly listened, his lips falling slightly open and his eyes subtly widening as he pictured you doing unspeakable things. His erection started to strain against his pants.

"And I'd want him to tell me when I'm about to make him cum," you said right before an obvious whimper escaped your lips as you kept the shower head pointed at your clit. Matt started to giggle. "Hey, you said you wouldn't laugh," you peeked out from behind the shower curtain, giving Matt a pouty face.

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing because I think it's funny or anything. I just laugh when I'm nervous," Matt replied, sighing and fidgeting with his hair. "Awh. Do I make you nervous, baby?" You cooed, and Matt blushed and nervously chuckled in response.

"Another reason he and I probably won't ever date is that he doesn't really like how close we are," you admitted to Matt. "You and me?" He asked, sounding surprised. "Mhmm," you hummed from the shower. "He knows we're just friends, right?" Matt asked, unfogging his glasses once more.

"Yeah, but he thinks something's going on between us," you replied, shutting off the water after you'd rinse all your bodywash off of you. Matt was caught off-guard by this, but the more he silently mulled over the dynamic the two of you shared, the more he realized how often the two of you toed of the line of being just friends and being more than friends.

"Well, he doesn't have anything to worry about. I'm a virgin," he laughed and shrugged, putting his glasses back on. He watched as you leaned out of the shower to grab your towel, exposing your breast to him while you held eye contact and smirked when you watched his gaze drop to your chest.

"I'm sure you'll lose your virginity before you know it," you responded, wrapping the towel around yourself and stepping out of the shower. "You think so?" Matt asked, chewing on his lip. "I know so. There's no way a cute little submissive thing like you isn't going to draw in the attention of a girl who's bold enough to make a move," you cooed, licking your lips as your eye caught a glimpse of his hard on. "I hope so," he whispered.

You sauntered off into your room, and Matt followed behind like a lost puppy dog. You dropped your towel and started changing in front of him, and in an attempt to be as respectful as possible, he turned his gaze away from you.

"I'm gonna go get set up in the guestroom, and I'll see you in the morning," Matt told you, getting ready to leave the room as you slipped into a pair of underwear and a tank top. "Oh, come on, Matty. Stay. What's the fun of a sleepover if we don't get to hang out all night until we fall asleep in the same bed like we always do?" You asked, pouting at him.

He slowly nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed. "You don't mind if I sleep in just this, do you?" You wondered, presenting your pretty, black lace panties and black camisole. "I don't mind," Matt answered, staring at you in awe.

You dried off your hair and started brushing through it, and after a few more moments of silence, you brought up the original topic of discussion, the same one you and Matt had been dancing around and circling back to all night.

"Could I actually just show you how loud I am?" You shifted your eyes up at Matt as you caught your lip between your teeth. "Show me how loud you are?" He naively wondered. "How loud I can get during sex? I really feel self-conscious about it, and I need your opinion," you batted your lashes again. "Uh, sure. Why not?" Matt said, trying to keep his cool. "This is purely for science," you raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded.

He felt like he was in a dream, watching as you put each of your legs on either side of his knee. You lowered your weight down onto it until your clothed pussy was resting right on his thigh, the increase in pressure creating a wonderful sensation for you. He could feel your heat and the soft thump thump of your throbbing clit through your panties. You leaned in and locked your soft lips onto his.

It wasn't the first kiss you'd shared. You'd kissed each other a handful of times when you were younger, under the guise that you were just practicing, but this was definitely the most passionate one.

His whole body started buzzing as your tongue begged for entrance, swirling around in his mouth. He could taste the red wine on your breath. You let out a loud moan against Matt's lips as you started rocking back and forth on his leg.

He immediately felt the fabric of his jeans strain against his hard cock as he studied the way your lips fell open and your eyes fell shut once you'd pulled back from the kiss. "Oh, Matt," the words escaped your lips loudly as you picked up the pace. He loved hearing you say his name in such an intimate manner and seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

Your hands made their way to Matt's chest, curling your fingers and latching onto the his jacket as you rode his thigh, and you slowly started to push the fabric off over his shoulders. Your involuntary sensual sounds filled the room, and you started grinding on his knee a little harder.

Matt held his breath as you reached for the bulge in his jeans and started palming it through the denim. "Oh," he quietly whimpered at your touch.

He could feel how wet you were getting, rhythmically rolling your hips forward as you humped his thigh. Your moans resounded, reaching their crescendo as you fell apart on Matt's knee. "That's it. Gonna cum," you cried out.

You held him in an embrace as you finished, falling limp against him and nearly screaming in his ear. He wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you, your wet hair tickling his forearms and your chest pressing against his cheek as it rose and fell while you caught your breath. You were both blushing.

"Did you think I was too loud?" You quietly whispered just above his ear. "You were loud, but I liked it a lot," Matt said after a short pause. You let out a laugh. Matt's cock was aching. "Oops. Sorry about the mess," you mumbled as you climbed off his knee, revealing a wet spot you'd left behind on his jeans. "I don't mind," he replied quietly, staring up at you.

Maybe the two of you were too close, and maybe it was inappropriate to grind on your best friend's thigh, but why stop now? His breath hitched in his throat as you descended to a kneeling position in front of him. "Now it's your turn," you seductively relayed, your fingers crawling across his lap, making their way to his zipper.

"My turn? For what?" Matt naively asked, wide-eyed. "To show me how you sound in bed. Please, Matty. I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight unless I know," you pouted at him, undoing the button on his jeans. "Wait. What if this complicates our friendship?" Matt wondered out loud. "Oh, come on, Matty. We're basically already dating. We do everything a couple would do except have sex. Maybe it'll actually make things less complicated," you smirked at him.

Deep down, he knew you might be right. "O-okay," Matt stammered, peering down at the way the teeth of his zipper came undone between your fingers. He went to take off his glasses, but you stopped him. "Matty, please. Keep them on," you requested, and he nodded.

You gave him a lustful and devious expression as you pulled his pants down just enough to access his throbbing dick. He lifted his hips as he looked into your hypnotic eyes. You reveled in the fact that you were going to be the first to make him make those sounds that were about to pour from his mouth. You reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock, mesmerized by the sight.

His tip was the same shade as his parted lips, and it was shiny with pre-cum already. You started to curl your fingers around its thickness and gently stroke it up and down. "Look at that," you gasped while you observed more clear liquid drool out of it, admiring how sensitive it was. Matt softly whimpered as it quivered in your hand.

You ran your palm up his shaft, grazing the head and spreading the fluid around, using it as lubricant while you pumped it back and forth. He let out a soft whine as you stimulated him. "Good boy," you praised him in a low, seductive tone.

He started gently bucking his hips up, driving his sensitive dick further into your hand while he let out a few stifled moans. "Don't hold back, baby," you cooed, picking up speed. "Mmm. It feels so good, mommy," he cried out, sending blood straight to your clit.

"That's it. Let me hear you," you responded, slowly closing the distance between his aggravated tip and your soothing lips, latching onto his most sensitive nerve endings. He gasped at the sensation. It was impossible for him to stay quiet.

Fervent noises filled the room while he watched as you made the head disappear behind your lips, then his shaft, and then you slid all the way down until your nose was pressed up against his lower tummy. "Yes, yes, yes," he whimpered, holding your wet hair out of your face.

You loved how responsive and interactive he was, doing everything you would have wanted a boy to do while giving him head. You bobbed your head up and down a few times, coaxing more pleasant sounds from Matt while he savored the soft, wet, warm feeling of your mouth.

You slid all the way down on his shaft again until the tip was in your throat, this time holding still while you hummed against his dick. "Please. Please keep going," Matt begged, trying to buck hip hips again, but you held them down, keeping him from being able to move. You were driving him crazy.

"Mommy, please move your mouth. I'll do anything," he implored, his voice cracking with desperation. You teased him, moving your head up and down but just slightly and at a painfully slow pace. "Faster, mommy," he begged you.

After a few more minutes of his pleading, you finally gave in, sloppily drooling all over his cock while you moved in a steady, calculated rhythm, stimulating every nerve ending on his rod while he inched closer to the finish line. "Feels so good. Gonna make such a mess for you, mommy," Matt desperately whined.

The words leaving his mouth suddenly had you aware of how empty you were feeling between your legs.

You moved back up his length with your mouth, but this time, when you reached the tip, you slipped it out of your mouth and smirked up at Matt. "Please. No. Why'd you stop?" He wondered, sounding distressed by the way his pleasure came to an end suddenly before he was done.

You stood up. "Be a good boy and wait," you responded lustfully, dropping your panties and pulling off your top. Matt fell silent as he admired your body, his eyes following every curve.

The shape of your body drew in his stare to your most intimate parts, the way your thighs came together in a v shape, practically directing his eyes towards your pussy. His eyes wandered up towards your breasts that he'd only ever seen for seconds at a time when you'd changed in front of him.

"Be a good boy and let mommy cum one more time, and then it'll be your turn. Got it?" You asked, slowly stepping towards him again. "Anything you want, mommy," he obediently nodded.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap, taking his dick into your grip and guiding it towards your hole. "Oh my god," Matt gutturally moaned with his eyes rolling back as you slowly descended onto him, taking it inch by inch. He couldn't believe you were taking his virginity.

"Don't you dare cum yet," you smirked at him as you lowered all the way down and started bouncing on his cock. He nodded at you with his glazed over eyes and his jaw hanging open as you picked up speed, your tits bouncing in his face while he admired them.

You started rubbing your clit while you rode Matt, and more urgent whimpers poured from both of your lips. "How's it feel, Matty?" You cooed. "Best feeling ever," he moaned, peering into your eyes. "You're so big. You fill me up so good!" You exclaimed as his dick rutted into your g-spot. He swooned at your compliment, placing both his hands on your waist.

You rocked your hips forward, your pussy gliding up and down his length, and you felt your legs behind to shake. You could feel Matt's dick throbbing in your hole as he whimpered for you and looked up at you with his most desperate expression, which sent you past the point of no return.

Your pussy spasmed around his sensitive cock, and he could feel every contraction as you called out his name loudly over and over. You rubbed your clit in tighter, faster circles. He felt your whole body tighten while you shook and loudly squealed as you finished onto him, leaving behind the milky evidence of how much fun you'd had leaking down his shaft.

"Please," he begged, staring down at the mess you made on his cock and knowing he'd done that to you had him right on the edge of his climax. "Please what, baby?" You bit your lip, still riding him. "Please, mommy. Don't stop. Need a warm place to cum inside," he cried out.

"Of course, baby. Of course you can cum inside," you assured him, cradling his head and pushing your breasts into his face. Your rose-scented bodywash filled his senses. He peered up at you with his pretty blue eyes that were filled with lust and desire. His eyebrows were furrowed together in an expression of sheer pleasure.

Goosebumps arose all over his flesh as an orgasmic rush coursed through his body. He whimpered fervently against your chest, his cock twitching and draining inside of you. You loved watching him come undone underneath you. You continued to bounce up and down on his dick until he started hissing through his teeth about how sensitive it was.

You brought your movements to a stop, tilted Matt's chin up with your hand, and kissed him while he was still inside of you. He looked up at you wide-eyed and panting. "Wow, I never knew sex could be that intense," he innocently shook his head. "I made you feel good, didn't I?" You asked, nibbling on your lip. "So good," he replied, pushing up his glasses.

"That was so hot. I knew you'd be a whimperer."

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[yunnimilk]

could u do a fyodor with sub, gn reader with dumbification, overstim, biting and choking too with a red and white theme? (( something non canon, like him being a secret vampire priest or something of the like and reader is a devoted worshipper of his Church mayhaps..)) .. drabble, or full fic for me is fine eitherway!!

「 ✦ AMAB! DOMTOP! Fyodor Dostoevsky x AMAB! GN! SUBBOT! Reader

{ sorry it was a drabble, I started my second year of college so I had a lot of work to do }

DRABBLE !!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Imagine being a membef at a church, you've decided to devote your life to god. Collecting donations and volunteering around the chapel isn’t anything new. Sometimes it was boring, but, this was the price to pay if you wanted to show your dedication to the lord , (^ε^)♪

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | The head pastor introduces a devilishly handsome man to you, asking you to tour him around the church buldings. The stranger had fairly pale skin with reflective dark hair that contrasted with it. Deep purple eyes that suck you in, you couldn't help but blush, which was embarrassingly evident on your face ! ◟꒰◍´Д‵◍꒱◞

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | His soft smiles take your breath away, your heart being pulled out of your chest. You take every opportunity to lovingly stare at his face, and you also got caught several times, but it seemed like he enjoyed your company !

ﾍ(≧▽≦ﾍ) ♪

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | he seemed off though, sometimes his skin would turn grayer and he would avoid mirrors. It's such a coincidence, vampires aren't real, you're being silly !

('A｀*)

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | But,,, one day, you found the man kneeling over, trying to hold his composure. Fyodor was sweating profusely as his fangs sharpened when you got closer to him, letting out a meekly, “f.. father ?”. He stayed still for a moment, his back was turned so you couldn’t see his expression . ( •́ㅿ•̀ )

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Suddenly, he lunges at you! You barely had time to react, instead, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and a wet sensation going down your collarbone. Your eyes found Fyodor's head, him draining all the fluid out your neck. It was really painful at first, then it turned so electrifying, sending shivers righr down your cock . (•ө•)♡

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Imagine Fyodor licking your neck and taking off your clothes, his moist tongue on your skin and you felt yourself getting harder and harder. Your soft moans encourage him to continue . ( ¯ ρ¯ )

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Some time later and your head is buried in your pillows while Fyodor was plunging into you, sloppy and firm. Grinding inside your guts to make sure your prostate gets bullied by his cock, your body was so sore, from the bites and especially from Fyodor's relentless thrusts . o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Your mind was far gone, everything was getting fuzzy and your cheeks were soaked from your tears, your tight, puffy hole making a squelching sound everytime he dug his cock into you. Your body stained from your cum and your blood, what a pretty painting ! ୧(-᷅ ہ-᷄)୨

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | He reaches down your neck as you let out a melodious whimper. Fyodor loves your pretty sounds, to him, it's the same as the church choir, so he's going to make sure you sing for him some more ! •﹏•

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Your cock was so tired just trying to pump out semen, it was throbbing so badly. You begged Fyodor to have mercy on you, "P...plEASE! I- I don't.. I CAN'T.. c-c...come anymore! ~", he tugged your hair back, so you could look at him, "then release yourself for me, one last time, my dear", he went quicker to feel your walls tightening up ! ⚆_⚆

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Imagine your eyes rolling back as you felt euphoria coursing through your body as you stiffen up. Your hole squeezing Fyodor's dick, him grunting as his cum intrudes inside your guts ,

"I changed my mind, actually, let's go for another hour hm?"

[greenbloods]

🕸 waifnumber17 Follow

she let me hit becuause behind my whimsy there is this Sorrow

[this post was made by an adherent of the great council of 101!!! DNI if you adhere to andal succession law]

🌻 littlelordroses Follow

omggg my fields have been absolutely THRIVING since the tyrells have brought comfort and prosperity to the capital. feel so proud to be a reachman. thank youuuu @ mace_the_ace

🦁 hearmerawr Follow

mace tyrell is a separatist and a cryptofascist btw

🌻 littlelordroses Follow

umm could you provide some sources for this?

🥖 heelobread Follow

LANNISTAN GLOWIE SEETHING RN

🏵 ofthegreenlands Follow

lolol thats def cersei isnt it

🦁 hearmerawr Follow

it’s not my job to educate you

❄ whorefrost Follow

ok this is a long shot but if any of you are in the area around the godseye i lost my raven Moonwing yesterday and i was wondering if any of you might have seen him. he was pacing around my room two nights ago mumbling things like 'snow' and 'king' and 'hardhome'. my brother likes to play pranks on me so i thought it was just one of his games but when i woke up my raven was gone. i miss him a lot so i wanted to reach out to see if any of you might have seen him

🌙 moonglowinherhair Follow

heyy im in the godseye area too (im from Crofter's Fall if youve heard of it) but i was wondering if you have any more information about your bird? theres a lot of ravens around these parts haha

❄ whorefrost Follow

hes black

🌙 moonglowinherhair Follow

anything else?

❄ whorefrost Follow

he bites me a lot

⚔️ swordcrosseryaoi Follow

streets are saying sansa poisoned joffrey and took off from kings landing on leathery bat wings to go to the wall you go girl!! starks stay winning

fireandboob Follow

oh my fucking none of these people care about you. a stark brigade literally plundered my whole village!! can we not do this again i hate this goddamn site

🍏 fossobabe Follow

does anyone know if we have tomorrow tomorrow

🍁 plummpudding Follow

for man, perhaps. but for a tree, time is different. a river roiling back and forth, both here and there, but inconstant--always inconstant. a thousand years are but a mere moment through the eyes of a heart tree

📿 sparrowsbones-777-deactivated2990707 Follow

yeah go pray to your rivers northoid. and when the shaman comes to tear your heart out and sacrifice it to your trees, maybe spare a thought for the Seven and their divine might. we'll be waiting.

🍁 plummpudding Follow

254.421.81.132

❄ whorefrost Follow

yooo thats near where i live! if you see a raven flying near your house, could you dm me?

⛓ rhllorbot Follow

The night is dark and full of terrors.

[Beep-boop! I look for heathens and non-believers. Sometimes I mess up.]

🐗 bobby-b-bot Follow

IS THAT HOW YOU SPEAK TO YOUR KING??

🐀 askmeaboutmylengtheory Follow

every time i scroll past this post i have to reblog

🦀 crackedclaw Follow

hey can i ask you about your leng theory?

🐀 askmeaboutmylengtheory Follow

No.

🍏 fossobabe Follow

what the hell happened to my post

🗝 adropofdragonblood Follow

alright we're solving this once and for all

🧀 bloodncheesewasan1n51d3j0b Follow

op you coward wheres stannis

🗝 adropofdragonblood Follow

many have been asking the same question

🕯glasscandle-was-taken Follow

ok i know i shouldnt be surprised bcz its popular on this site to bandwagon onto the next popular thing but just a reminder that if youre supporting the conquests of daenerys targaryen youre supporting a literal colonizer and imperialist. plus slavery is literally a unique and traditional part of ghiscari culture so we cant be surprised that people over there dont like her. begging yall to pick up a scroll once in a while

🍷adornishred Follow

K

👁️ eye-motif Follow

U

⛈ pisswaterprincess Follow

N

🩸 blood-motif394 Follow

what if we were both locked in the formless dark void of the dungeon together, bereft of our own names and our own identities, bereft of everything that made us who we were. and we were both boys

🐒 littlestvalyrian Follow

haha that would be pretty epic i think

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 3/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 1,484 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 (in replies because tags aren't working in the post for some reason)

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

I just want y’all to know that this chapter was written for you—I prefer the story ending at Chapter 2 😉

If you enjoy the read please kudos, comment, and reblog ❤️

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You catch the door before it clicks shut. You don’t want to leave him like this. You can’t leave him like this, so you inhale a deep breath and creep back inside, steeling yourself for rejection or another hateful outburst.

His weeping tapers off into sniffles and the occasional cough. You can feel his eyes following you as you pad over to his couch and grab the neatly folded throw blanket, casting a furtive glance towards his gun, which is still lying undisturbed where you left it, before returning to him. His eyes have fallen away from you—his head sagging between his slumped shoulders, chin touching his chest—and you hope he hasn’t gone away again to that terrible place in his mind. When you drape the blanket around his shoulders he flinches but gives no other protest, even pulling it more tightly around himself. He doesn’t order you to leave—doesn’t even acknowledge you’re there—so you kneel down in front of him, careful not to crowd him. He looks so defeated, so beaten down by the world; an abused child wrapped up in his security blanket for comfort after another unfair punishment. Your heart can’t help but break for him.  

You sit for a moment, listening to his soft sniffles and harsh breathing until you find the right words to say. Then you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles to the floor again, his tearful eyes hidden behind a curtain of sweat-damp black hair.

For what? Passing out? Getting strangled? Knocking me to the floor then screaming at me? But you keep those questions to yourself, asking him instead: “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER?”

He slowly shakes his bowed head, as if it’s filled with lead, as if those awful memories of his are weighing it down.

“Then why don’t you lie down? Maybe get some rest?” you suggest. “I can bring you some Ambien…”

Your voice trails off because he shoots you a wary look. But then his face softens and he nods before muttering, “No drugs.”

“No drugs,” you echo softly, your brain jumping to conclusions again about this brooding man of few words. Perhaps he’s a recovering addict or something. You push yourself to your feet then reach out a hand to help him up. He stares at it then his eyes fall away again. He’s really not a fan of eye contact.

“I don’t even know your name,” he says.

“It’s Y/N,” you offer eagerly. “What about you?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to ignore you, but then he answers, “Jason,” in a barely audible voice, as if he’s ashamed to utter the word aloud.

Heavy silence swells around you and you’re acutely aware of your outstretched arm hanging awkwardly in the air. He wipes his bleeding cheek against his shoulder, smearing more blood onto his hoodie. You pull back your proffered hand and use it to push a lock of hair behind your ear as you fumble for something to say to fill the uncomfortable silence that stretches on. And suddenly you're back at dinner with John Preston Anderson III trying to make conversation while he scrolls on his phone, pretending you don’t exist. You have to swallow down a bubble of anger that threatens to erupt.

“I’m… sorry for whatever happened to you, Jason. I… can stay with you, if you want.” Suddenly your face is afire and you’re mortified that you just invited yourself to sleep over at his place only seconds after learning his name. “On your couch, I mean,” you clarify, blushing furiously, but his eyes never leave the floor. Thankfully.

He coughs then shakes his head again. “I already ruined your night.”

A bitter laugh bursts out of you at that without your permission, and his head jerks up, startled, bloodshot eyes snapping to yours. You clap both hands over your mouth as if you can shove the rude sound back inside you. Guilt grips your heart as you see the pained expression on his pale face. It’s not anger or hurt or annoyance, but rather that same look of fear that you witnessed earlier when he was cowering in the corner, as if your laughter frightened him. 

You rush to explain, to put him at ease. “I’m sorry, it’s just that… if you only knew the night I’ve had. Anyway, I’m glad we finally got to meet. It’s nice to put a name to the-the face.” You stutter that last part, realizing after the fact that it’s probably not very nice to bring up his unmistakably-scarred face like that, or complain about your night to the guy who got strangled, so you blurt out before your mind can catch up with your mouth: “It isn’t every night that I get to help a handsome stranger in distress.”

Your face somehow turns an even darker shade of crimson. How many times can you put your foot in your mouth in one conversation? But to your surprise and relief you’re rewarded with a little laugh from Jason, a sound that seems awkward and unnatural, as if he doesn’t get to laugh very often. Some of the color returns to his cheeks as he blushes the prettiest shade of pink. When the corners of his mouth quirk up into a timid smile you realize that he has absolutely gorgeous lips, despite the swelling. Full and soft, finely laced with small silvery scars—little arrows pointing to where they need to be kissed. Jesus Christ. Again, you literally just learned the guy’s name and now you want to kiss him. No, that’s a lie. You’ve wanted to kiss him since his rude ass scowled at you the first time. What is it with you and Ted Bundy types?

“I’ll have to pass out more often,” he says shyly, fingers plucking at the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His blue-green eyes find the floor again, as if his script is written there. “Turns out it’s a great way to meet beautiful women.”

Beautiful… beautiful… The word echoes in your mind like a heartbeat. No one has ever called you beautiful. Your chest comes alive with sudden warmth as butterflies take flight. You want to stay there with him for the rest of the night. To kiss him on his busted lips. To wrap him up in your arms. To protect him from whatever hurt him. Instead, you grab one of the discarded ice packs and hand it to him, heart still fluttering wildly in your chest. “Google says you should get some ice on that. Your throat, I mean.” Goddamnit. He just said you’re beautiful, and you reply by handing him an ice pack. How the hell are you so bad at flirting?

“Who am I to question Dr. Google?” he replies sarcastically with a smug little smirk on those beautiful lips, but still does as he’s told, accepting the ice pack then holding it against his red-ringed throat.

You gaze down at him as you grope for the perfect words to say that will turn this scene into one worthy of a romcom. You consider inviting him back to your place to share that bottle of merlot you’ve been dreaming about all night. But then remind yourself that the poor guy is traumatized, definitely in no shape for a romantic nightcap. You can’t help but find yourself wishing, as if you can will it into existence, that he’ll look up at you, that your eyes will meet, sparks will fly, and he’ll flirt with you again. Maybe even invite you to stay the night with him. But his eyes remain glued to the floor, and your heart drops in disappointment as your ridiculous delusions are dashed by his silence.

“I should… probably go, for real this time. It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything for you before I go?” you ask, coming back down to earth from the high of his compliment and seeing him again as the guy who’d gotten cut and strangled then passed out cold on his floor rather than an object of your lust.

He shakes his head, then he glances up at you, those stunning blue-green eyes of his finally finding yours, sending a fresh flutter to your chest. “You’ve done more than enough. It was… really nice having someone to talk to. To… distract me from… other things.”

His kind words give you a boost of confidence. “Well If you ever want to talk again, you know where I live. Or if you need a babysitter.”

You smile at the puzzled look that crosses his face and nod towards his houseplant.

He laughs that adorable little laugh again. “I may take you up on that offer sometime. Goodnight Y/N. And… thanks again. For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Jason.”

[yermes]

Its messy but its all I have 🍓 🫀

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Pick a meme

123

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Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. But I am working on sharing my notes soon so that will be exciting! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

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Follow me?

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The cards

The moon 🌙 

Delusion, something you want but feel like you can never have and the thought that you could never have it is the delusion. While we at times use delusion as such a strong primal power which we use to make our means. It can also be problematic when it comes in the form imposter syndrome. We can’t let ourselves hold ourselves back. We are magical being of stardust straight from the garden, you can make what you want with your hard work and the skills you gain along the way. Thats the use of delusion for good.

Strength 🦁 

Strength is never clean, the will and compassion to go on despite it all is never easy and is never clean. Everything we had we clawed and ripped it into our reality. We worked and labored for everything we had and we are prepared to work and claw to keep everything we gained. Love isn’t something that has ever come easy but we love life, we love four lives, we love what we worked to forge for ourselves. When we claw and work and tumble and get our shit together we will overcome anything

V of cups 🍷

Is love supposed to be clean? Is it supposed to be cookie cutter, to look a certain way. Is the path of love covered in blood and tears while we walk begging to be understood by the universe that spat you out and left you in the cold. Anything we ever loved has bite marks and claw marks on it because to love is sacred, love is something we mourn and we feel it on every range of the chemical spectrum, like everything else.

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Extras:

Story/vent:

My academic era is out

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[irasamu]

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 PLEASE STRIP ME! ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . till date this fic remains one of my favs. fyodor is so hot ugh.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; sugar daddy!fyodor, sugar baby!reader, fem!reader nsfw, angst in the beginning, confessions, hurt to comfort ig, riding, nipple pinching and sucking, fyodor refers to himself as "daddy", uses of term "dumb doll", fyodor is hot, and that's all ig.

the twilight sky outside analyzed the situation and told the stars about it who twinkled in amusement, all of them finding pleasure in your misery, like the man you gave your heart to.

you glance at the clock on the wall and then huff, turning away from its direction as if the clock was the one behind your emotional state, as if it were the clock who played with your heartstrings as if your heart was an instrument.

it's nearly one in the night and you are still sitting on the luxurious bed with your back against the headboard, reminiscing about the first time you sat on this very bed and felt the same feeling of being an outcast, as if you are a foreign to this luxury -- which you are.

your hands gripped your silk night gown which reached till your midthighs, a very revealing and loose one at that. you bit your lip to produce pain which had the ability to divert your attention away from the aching in your heart.

alas, it worked but in ways you didn't expect. for the physical pain of harshly biting down on your bottom lip was the cheery on top needed by your brain to stimulate a signal which made the dams in your eyes open up, moistoning your eyes and blurring your vision.

at the same moment, the man behind this reaction tried to slowly open the door without making any noise but once he saw the lamp lights on beside the nightstand near the bed, he raised his eyebrows.

fyodor didn't expect you to be awake at this hour and he made sure you knew about this by the way he continued to look at you even while closing the door and walking towards you.

a heart heavier then your brain which is littered with opposing thoughts, you sit straight and look at fyodor, taking a deep breath for the oxygen will be knocked out of you very soon by your own heart.

"what is wrong? can't sleep? is the dress not to your liking?" voiced the man whose cold voice could put even snowy lands to shame, a man who held too much interest in his eyes but too little in his tone for fyodor dostoyevsky is an enigma. even to you who had been with him for more than a year now.

you do not answer, no, you can not. your eyes frantically scan over his features, those soft lips which you can kiss only in your dreams, that pale skin which makes you wonder just how good would it look with love bites, the sharp jaw you want to cup and kiss and lastly, those damned  eyes.

the rich dark purple which shines brightly despite those tired looking eyes can captivate you, play you like a doll and you won't even realise for the one who admires the castle won't see the blood, sweat and tears of those who made it.

you gulp, your heart beat being the only sound you heard for a minute or two before you shook your head. ". . .i wanted . . . to talk to you."

why is your voice such a contrast to his? his confident voice puts your quiet and nervous one to shame.

fyodor hums, stepping towards his side of the bed as he lays down with a sigh and after mentally pushing yourself with the reminder that it's either now or never ; you swiftly move to be on top of fyodor, your knees planted on the soft mattress on either sides of his waist as you look down at him with sorrowful eyes.

"aren't i attractive to you? or am i not your type?" murmuring the harsh words which have been piercing your mind ever since you realised you fell for the very man who never kissed you, who made it clear that your presence was something he could buy and he did.

"generally having a sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship means a mutual benefit. sex or sexual favors in exchange of money. of course it varies with different people but . . . paying me only to have my company . . . don't you ever wish to have some more?" your voice -- is it doing justice to convey all your pent up emotions and feelings? you wonder.

now, fyodor is a man of rationality and cold logic but even he is a human.

how can you not see the way he is gulping thickly, able to outline and picture your cunt as the flimsy lingere nightgown is doing its purpose of letting his imagination run loose. the way you are leaning down to be closer to him caused one of the thin straps of the nightgown to fall off your shoulders and near your elbow, allowing fyodor a glimpse of just a small portion of your cleavage.

how can fyodor focus on your words when your lips look so pouty and eyes so moistened? lord, oh lord, you answered his prayers, didn't you?

oh dear lord, is this angel on top of him his to corrupt?

"tell me, why won't you touch me? let me fulfill my duty as a sugarbaby. let me satisfy you sometimes fyodor." you softly let out, staring at him and fyodor, oh fyodor, what are you doing?

why are you pulling on the angel's other strap and letting it fall down her elbow? do you not know your patience and self control is running thin?

you can't do it. you aren't fyodor to conceal your emotions and feelings deep within the chambers of your mind.

so you allow a sob to travel through your throat, allowing it the freedom to be freed and let fyodor hear it, you let him hear your misery.

"you always do this. these actions of yours make me feel as if you desire me too . . . only for you to shut me out by acting cold and distant again." your voice is strained, cracking even as your vocal chord is being choked by the nimble hands of sadness.

"am i some kind of a doll to you? who you can play with as much as you want?" your words don't seem to have any effect on the russian below you whose expressions haven't changed a bit.

it's always this cold and calm look of his which you hate but oh, how you love it too.

and fyodor noticed it. he always does. the way the corner of your eyes soften as your eyes go all doe like whenever you admire his features but he doesn't like how that softness is always shielded by a sheet of longing and sadness.

"if you were to tell me to dance on fire for you, i would gladly become one with the fire for its not the fire which burns me but your coldness, fyodor." you confess, biting your bottom lip in a fragile attempt to stop or hide their quivering but this action of your's, the furrowed eyebrows and the slightly red eyes of your's makes you look all the more appealing to fyodor.

"have i done something to make you feel like so? don't cry. didn't i tell you? your presence brings me joy, your opinions and perspectives are intresting enough for me to spend enough to have you by my side. why? are you not satisfied? do you want more? tell me what you want and it's your's, you know there is no limit to what i've to offer to you." the cold and calm tone accompanied with the russain accent is a voice you hear daily yet still can't get enough of.

you shake your head. no, he can't offer you what you desire.

"i don't want your wealth anymore. i want your love and that's the only thing you can't offer." you weakly mutter and close your eyes, waterfalls of heartbreak wetting your cheeks for even you know that your desire is a painful lie you live in and hope to achieve.

fyodor feels the tightening of his pants and the slight hardening of his cock at your soft sniffles, god, how vile is he to get turned on by your sniffles of sorrow?

"sweet doll, do you think my affection for you is fake? . . . is that what you think? are you getting bored of me? do you want to leave?" fyodor asks, his voice a bit sad, looking at you whose eyes are still closed and hearing his words make you cry even more as you now don't feel shy or hide your sobs, letting them out in the open for fyodor to hear for maybe then, he could understand your feelings.

these simple words are not your breaking point. the sadness lingering in his tone is. the subtle frown which you are sure is adorning his mouth is. those affectionate touches and him being more touchy with you since the past two months only to distance himself from you before things could escalate further is.

the way his hands immediately cling onto your hips as they squeeze your hips tightly but in a comforting manner is.

"i love you! i love you! why are you so smart yet stupid to realise this!? i don't want to be a dumb sugar baby who is happy with a little bit of attention! that won't work for me! i need all of your attention, all of you! fyodor i need you! i need your love, i want your love!" you sob loudly and oh, oh.

not only did you reach your breaking point tonight, fyodor did too.

his grip on your hips tightened and his eyes went a bit dark, more sharper.

"stop testing my patience dumb doll." was a sentence which was enough to make you straighten up and behave yourself, but not tonight. oh definitely not tonight.

tonight you will pour your heart out to him and wait for his judgment.

"i try so hard to make you notice me, to seduce you yet none of them work . . . am I that unattractive? or are you in love with someone else? are you even capable of loving fyodor? capable of loving me?" you stare down at him, eyes sad and lips parted to let quick and short breaths escape along with occasional sobs.

the tears stopped coming long ago as the anguish converted into a cold calmness of sadness and the ones which flowed down your cheek began to dry up but left their trail there for fyodor to see.

this was it. the final push fyodor needed for him to pour out his feelings, his emotions and his pent up desires.

fyodor scoffs in amusement and only tightens his grip on your hips more, enough to leave a bruise and tight enough to immobilize you.

"dumb doll, how can you say all that when you don't even know the thoughts in my head everytime i see you? do you know what i think everytime i make you wear these sexy nightgowns?" fyodor's voice is low and seductive yet it has that soft edge to it and you purse your lips in embarrassment as you feel the wet pool in your core and you know fyodor felt it too or he wouldn't have smirked the way he did, so arrogantly yet arrogance looks good on him, sexy if you may add.

hands of temptation belongs to fyodor as he lets his hands run up and down your curves.

"not treat you like a doll? nonsense. you are my doll, how can i not treat you like one? so fragile and magnificent, all for me." the last part wasn't a hope or wish but a statement. fyodor wasn't asking you to be his, he already made you his when he first paid you for spending time with him.

"do you even know what i think every time i look at you, especially when you look so preety when you are sad?" the smooth voice holding onto the calm and collected tone which made it clear to the receiver that fyodor isn't just any human but a part of the rare percentage who are unbelievably majestic, lured you in, you wondered often if he is a siren.

you shook your head as a no, sniffling occasionally as fyodor's hand went lower towards the hem of your nightgown, he played with it as he said,

"i wish," he muttered, looking at your lips before he looked up at your eyes again, lifting the hem of your nightgown.

"to strip you of your clothes and feel your body . . . with your soft, smooth skin . . ."

you part your lips as you let out a soft gasp, feeling fyodor's cold fingers trail the flesh of your ass before he gripped one of your buttocks and he squeezed it roughtly between his cold fingers as if to show you how your last claim of heartbreak angered him.

hearing your gasp, fyodor smiles seductively, and eyes you, admiring the cut of the dress which was loose enough to give him a glimpse of your cleavage, the way your hair fell all over your face and the way you were basically straddling him which resulted in your nightgown to ride up.

"you say all this but your actions proved otherwise" you furrow your eyebrows as you mutter and the man beneath you just continues to eye you in a more intense, vulgar way.

“to touch you . . . in the most intimate places, but how can i? you know i am a man whose morals and beliefs shape him. so how can i think about you in such a way which contrasts my beliefs?” did he ask you? you weren't sure, your focus was on his hand which went towards your hip and grabbed it.

you part your lips, letting out a shaky breath as fyodor's fingers dig into your skin to grip it while his thumb applies slight pleasure to your hip, it feels as if he is trying to memorize the way your skin feels against him.

“how can i ignore my desires any longer? my desires to kiss you . . .” fyodor's eyes move up and down your body in a perfect coordination with his hands which grab your shoulders, kneading onto them as he then trails his hands down your arms and towards your wrists.

not only is your breath a bit frantic but so is his.

angel, oh angel, is this not enough for you to open your eyes and let go of that foreskaen purity?

oh let the drug who is injected into your veins, begin it works.

you took the drug yourself. the drug named fyodor dostoyevsky.

“and to taste your sweetness.” fyodor tugs on your wrist making you lean near him more.

"my beliefs and morals are what shaped me but you are what makes me feel human. my desires towards you knows no limit so don't ever try to question my emotions and feelings towards you. or i'll make another use of that preety mouth of your's." he whispers that last sentence.

broken. the thread of fyodor's self resistance and control broke.

fyodor pushes your head towards him, pressing his lips against your's as he begins to kiss you, he had always known his feelings would be reciprocated but it sure did feel good to have your lips move against his.

dancing in sin, the music is provided by the short and hot breaths you two share, you could feel your core throb as you placed one of your hands on the bed to stabilize yourself and the other on fyodor's cheek, caressing the skin you dreamt of littering in your marks and kisses.

like a snake, fyodor's hands slithered towards your back to push it to have you more closer towards him.

after a long while, you pull back to catch your breath, looking at fyodor as you parted your lips to speak but how can he just hear words leaving those wet and slightly swollen lips?

oh no. absolutely not.

fyodor pushed himself up slightly to capture your lips in a heated kiss again, elbow propped against the bed while with the other hand, he brushed your hair to the side.

you closed your eyes just like the russain beneath you, trying to appreciate every single movement made by his lips, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip before it entered your mouth and his occasional biting down on your bottom lip.

when he pulls back again to let both of you recover from the lack of oxygen, fyodor chuckles breathlessly.

"fuck it." he mutters a curse before changing your positions, making you lay on your back as his lips cling onto your's yours in a desperate manner, clinging onto you like how a water droplet clings onto the edge of a leaf, wet sounds produced due to the kisses shared between you two were the epitome of just how sinful the night will get from here on.

fyodor is desperate.

more.

more and more.

oh lord, he knew once he started, he won't be able to stop and look, now he is tainting this angel of your's.

what will you do now when he is not letting the angel breath, continuously kissing her, one after the another -- you will do nothing, whatever needs to be done will be decided by the god under whose mercy the angel's heart is.

your heart beating is frantic but not more then the arousal which is aggressively coursing through your veins, you try to clench your legs to stop the slick from dripping on your panties but fyodor's hand on your inner thigh had forced you to keep your leg open.

fyodor leaned down to plant soft kisses on your lips, chin and jaw, trailing the wet kisses as to crave a path of his love.

"i will only ask once for my patience is thin right now, so tell me, sweet doll, tell me if you want this," fyodor leans up to capture your lips in a quick kiss again, "because once i have my way, i'll never let you leave me."  he whispers, eyes trailing up to stare at your face and can you really say no to those purple eyes which were hypnotic enough to make your breathing stop midway.

"you are sounding like a big talker right now--" your words were cut short by the gasp which left your lips when fyodor's hand which was on your inner thigh had trailed up to press his thumb against your wet core.

"big talker? i'll show you that i don't speak empty words, dumb doll." fyodor smirks, the silence of the night didn't find it offending how his voice cut through the calm and hot atmosphere and rather they found it just as soothing as you, the russian could almost be passed as a god with the way the moonlight falling from the opened windows reflected his pale skin and dark irises, and oh, you closed your eyes as you exhaled shakily.

"please . . . please strip me. fuck me. i made myself clear too, no? i want you, your touch, your lips all over me. hah . . . you are no saint, you are the devil. stop fucking with these morals and just fuck me fyodor!" you beg, voice proving your desperation and neediness to have the russian all over you, to make your dreams which you hide in the darkest depths of your heart a reality.

fyodor began to rub his thumb over your wet core, rubbing against the sensitive bud with nothing but your panties to restrict the pleasure he created.

and is he really the god of your heart if he doesn't listen to your prayers?

"then let me show you just how much i desire you and once i am done, you'll be chanting my name like a prayer and when i repeat this all tomorrow? oh doll," fyodor coos the last part, biting his lip as he chuckled, "my dolly, my sweet sweet dolly, you won't even know if you are on earth or in heaven."

fyodor didn't hear your reply, immediately moving down to bite on your collarbone which he was only ever able to brush his fingers against for the past few months when he realised that maybe he wants to keep you by his side for as long as he can and could for fyodor doesn't think he has feelings for you as strong as to call them love.

fyodor sucked on your collarbone, licking it after before he looked up at you again, overcoming by the sudden urge to look at your face and the sight of your parted lips and barely opened eyes upon receiving such a small portion of pleasure made you look pure in fyodor's eyes, not to mention the moonlight falling on half of your body had only made you look more ethereal.

the nightgown straps barely on your elbows anymore as they revealed the upper portion of your cleavage and fyodor immediately knew that he had to free you from the fabric which is an obstacle for his hands from exploring your curves and body.

fyodor leans up on his arm, using the other to hook his index finger on your strap, pulling it down your arm, you raised your arm to help him slip the strap out with ease and once fyodor slipped both the straps off, he ripped the nightgown apart with his hand, immediately clinging his lips onto your naked breasts.

it started off as a single lick against your nipple before he went back to swirl his tongue against it, flickering it with his tongue.

then the sensation increased as his fingers trailed up your thighs and slipped into the nightgown, continuing their path up your other breast as he grazed the nipple with his nail before flickering it with his finger.

soon his index and middle finger squeezed the nipple between them, pulling on it as it made you hiss and fyodor smirked against your breast.

fyodor found pleasure in hearing your short breaths and gasps of pleasure and he would've loved to go and tease you for hours, manipulating you into thinking he is finally giving in to touch you, only for him to prove you wrong . . . only if it weren't for his painfully hard boner.

fyodor clicked his tongue before he grabbed your hips with both of his hands and rolled over with you on top of him once again as he looked up at you with that devilish smirk on his face, minute sweatbeads were beginning to form on his forehead and if you squint enough, you could see him gulping.

"be my good doll and ride me and tell me all your complaints. sweet doll, i will listen to every complain of your's today" fyodor tells you, hands slowly removing your panties as you lift yourself up to help him, he throws it away, not bothering to remove his sweatpants or anything as he immediately guides you to sit on his crotch, moving your hips to create some friction to ease his painfully hard erection, silently gasping as you slick wets his fabric.

fyodor smirks as his eyes remain closed, teasing you, "go on sweet doll, begin complaining to your daddy."

and when you nod, your head tilted back as you close your eyes and begin to move back and forth on his clothed boner, fyodor's eyes couldn't tear away from you ; your nightgown which was now rolled down and ripped to reveal your clevage, the slight pink mark appearing on your collar bone and your hair which fell infront of your face -- fyodor sucked in a breath.

his cold hands came to restrict your hips as he tapped once, you got the signal and you lifted yourself up slightly and watch fyodor skillfully remove his sweatpants and briefs with one hand, stroking his hardened and aggressive cock a few times before he rubbed the tip against your folds to get your slick on the tip, rubbing the length against your inner thighs which had slick dripping down.

"sit." he commanded a bit too softly to match the fire of lust blazing in his purple irises and if you paid enough attention to look past the pleasure and pain of sinking down on his cock, you could've seen the way his irises were dilated and reflected your image in them then you could've understood how deeply and intensely fyodor always stares at you.

a pained whimper left your lips as you settle down on his cock, feeling it strech your walls for the very first time. your fingers can't even fathom the sensation of his cock and now that you finally have it inside you, you know no one else, not even your own fingers or the finest toys out there, could satisfy you the way he is going to for the reason is simple, the same way the heart has no use if there is no blood left for it to pump, there is no libido in you if there is no fyodor.

for the sight of the man makes your brain fall into the lap of arousal and submit yourself to it, to fyodor.

"i am your doll? then why don't you cherish me and love me? why do you act as if we are just two partners in a deal? i am not one of your business partners, don't treat me professionally like you treat them" you grit your teeth, trying to get used to the pain.

you move up when you feel the pain become a bit bearable, going down on his cock as a choked breath leaves you and fyodor's eyes widen ; you move up and down his cock again, biting your lip in pain but the face you make as you are in pain yet try to give pleasure to him -- oh what a sight.

"you claim to love me? dumb man --" you let out a gasp, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as he sucked in a breath, "you are so smart yet how can you be so oblivious that your coldness makes me think you don't even like me?"

and suddenly, fyodor is hyper aware of his surroundings of how the bedsheet moves with your movements, the wet squelch as his cock enters and leaves your hole and your and his grunts and pants filling the entire room.

the hair falling on your face sticked to your forehead as you begin to move more on his cock.

fyodor parts his lips, your furrowed eyebrows relaxes as you let out a breath of relief, feeling the pain slowly turning into pleasure and fyodor did not stop himself or try to fool himself into believing he is superior when he leaned forwards, elbow propping against the bed as he brought his other hand towards your face and gently tucked the hair strands sticking to your forehead away, staring at you with a fond smile and suddenly everything makes sense, the sudden urge to touch you since the past few months, to whisper into your ears and watch you get shy and to give you whatever you desire, it all makes sense to him now for no one understood human emotions better then fyodor but to feel them, that's a different thing and he finally did.

"touch me, kiss me, caress me and let me do the same to you, you don't know, no one else can compare to you, you've me wrapped around your preety fingers. and it angers me to think someone else will claim you as her's one day. it isn't fair! you are mine, you should be mine, i don't want anyone else to have you except me. you are the type i want to marr--"

"i love you, my dumb doll." fyodor intrupted you as he breaths out, hand coming down to gently squeeze your nape, the sudden desire he felt is something he won't deny anymore as he pushes your nape forwards to once again have your lips against his.

your eyes widened, you've known fyodor enough to know words of affections are foreign to him so to hear him speak the purest words of intimation?

oh how your heart surrendered to him once more, how it bowed to him and was ready to bend to his will.

"i. love. you." with each word he spoke against your lips, he thrusted his hips upwards and relished as you moaned.

"i. love. you." he once again emphasized to let you hear him loud and clear, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling back and grabbing your chin with his index finger and thumb.

"you hear me? are my words reaching your ears, my doll? i love you."  fyodor gritted his teeth, looking at your widened eyes and parted lips and how he resisted the urge to utterly ruin you and have you cry out his name as he saw how tears glistened and flowed down your cheeks.

"go on, confess the feelings you've always bottled up, my baby doll. and don't you dare stop no matter what, speak. tell your daddy how much you love him." fyodor commands, pinching your chin as he smiled seductively, pulling your chin closer to plant a small kiss on the corner of your lips, before he moved towards your lips to nibble on your upper lip.

fyodor pulled back and his purple eyes shined devilishly as he pulled on your nipple. "move your body and your lips, my doll. daddy is all your's. wanna wife you before the sun rises tomorrow yet i can't do that without knowing if you feel the same, can i? open that mouth and complain, after all, when have i ever denied you desires and wishes?"

[alcinaslittlemaid]

🎈𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕?🎈

Pennywise 17x Papawise 90! XFem!?Reader

HUGE TW⚠️

I’m depressed again so y’all know what that means?

Comfort and kisses!+Fluff! from the 7ft clown 🥲🎀🎈

Tw: Self harm mention, thoughts of Sewerslide, shitty mental health, medication mention, mental breakdowns, attempts of overdose! Emetephobia!!

The fluff begins in the second ———

Grab a cuppa tea or coffee and Enjoy! 🍷

—————————————————————

You curled up against the large plushies propped up against the wall of your bed, your whole body shaking, your eyes stung from constant tears that streamed down your soft cheeks. Your medication had not worked, causing you to stay up later than usual after pennywise tucked you into bed, before going on a hunt.

You cautiously got up, your mind blank, almost as if you were in a thoughtless trance, you began to make your way to the bathroom. Dried tear tracks coating your face, your pressed a sharp, metal blade into your arm deep, fresh tears dripped down your face, blood gushing out of your arm as you picked up a bottle of pills from the cabinet and began taking them all at once. Stood there staring into the mirror, the room began to spin violently, your throat filling with vomit and your motions becoming mindless and slurred, you became dizzy and suddenly everything went black as you numbly felt your body smack into the floor. ————————

You felt your body be lifted from the cold, hard bathroom floor, spit trailing from your lips causing a long line of drool behind your body.

“Is she alright?” A gruff voice echoed out in your unconscious state “she will be…” a raspy voice answered back as the sound of water sloshing filled your ears in an echoey way “what in the georgies dismembered arm happens to her arms?” The gruff voice sounded concerned “Long story, I’ll tell you don’t worry” the raspy voice replied. Suddenly, your lips were pressed against another pair, air filling your lungs “Come on Y/n” one of the voices puffed “

You sat bolt right up coughing and spluttering “fuck-“, you choked, vomit filling your throat as you puked into the murky water “Aughhhhh- Ayghhhh” you panted “Cough it up doll, it might be a gold watch” papa chuckled, happy that your alive “Now come here” you were suddenly dragged into a bear hug by pennywise, his soft, silk suit rubbing against you “Oh little lamb~ you scared me half to death, I thought you were a goner” You swear you could hear his voice breaking, his heart was racing in his chest

“Come here darlin” papa said pulling you into his arms, holding a fresh cup of water “here clear out your immune system a little” you nodded and almost downed the water immediately “Woah, Woah Woah doll face, slow down you’ll give yourself hiccups” he chuckled again before laying you down in penny’s nest pulling the blankets over you, penny dragging an anti bacterial wipe over your gushing arms “ARGH SHITT!” You snarled in agonising pain, papa smacked your head with a newspaper he was reading “language babydoll” he growled as he kneeled down by your arm, wrapping it in bandages and pinning them up “Shhhh it’s okay pet, shhh”

Finally, either clowns crawled in on either side of you snuggling into you with they’re arms snaking around as you all fall asleep, protected, snug and safe.

Penny’s hand snakes into your hair, drawing little circles on your scalp “Mine precious dolly” he purred drooling slightly on your chest❤️

—————————————

I’m sorry for this sob story but again my mental health has declined rapidly so it’s a bit personal 😅

I’ll try not to post as much upsetting stuff

Love you all ❤️❤️

[yourdarlingness]

Sugar Swan Cookie / True Love's Vow (Cookie Run Ovenbreak)　✦　tumblr layouts

『 F2U 』　;　rb, like, and credit if using

requested by @helioby

[beababoobies]

Omg, you did the request for angst- YIPEEE, TEARS!!!

I couldn't save my tears, I drank them, so have my blood instead, queen 🍷

Anyway- after good angst, fluff comes to the rescue for a smile!

So maybe by some magical reason, or pure determination on Cherri's party, She gets redeemed and goes to heaven. She spends her days there just chillin livin her life, then she bumps into sir Pentious? Maybe when they meet, Sir Pentious just stands there like a deer in headlights, and she goes over to him in her usual sass, but in the inside, she just wants to cry to him or smthn.

Then maybe, Sir Pentious gathers his courage and asks her out?

Happy ending! Maybe.

I want them to be happy damnit-

Yes. Sobs. Yes. I want them to be happy too. Thank you for the blood, it has a lil sweetness to it, yummers!!! Here’s some cherrisnake FINALLY BEING FUCKING HAPPY in return. Enjoy my love! 

Together Again

Cherrisnake my beloved, words : 1k.

After nearly ten months of rehab, seeing most of the other residents achieve angelic status, even being clean for four of those months (because Charlie and Vaggie took away her drug stash, but wtv, still counts losers!) she had went to sleep the same way as she usually did, saluting Pentious’ portrait and as she had starting doing, blowing a little kiss to it, going outside to drop some flowers at his grave and finally tucking herself into bed, she fell asleep. 

But this felt… different. She felt like she was only asleep for maybe a couple seconds before she felt the thud of warm marble floors beneath her, scrambling to her feet and reaching into her back pocket for an emergency bomb - only to find nothing there. She opened her eye, only to have to close it quickly because of the shining golden light of the ceiling above. Then there was an excited squeal, and an Angel rushed towards here

“A new sinner! A new sinner has reached rehabilitation!” She squealed out, reaching out to help Cherri with her bearings, only for Cherri to flinch away, staring at her, completely bewildered. She knew she had been making progress, but she had no clue it was this much progress. She almost felt disappointment that she was here already.

“Oh! Where are my manners?” The sarafim chirped excitedly, reaching out her hand for Cherri to cautiously shake, only to pull back in shock when her hands were now laces with hints of gold. “I’m Emily, or Em, or - just call me whatever! I’m the second sarafim of heaven, congratulations on making angelic status!” She said with a big smile. Cherri nodded slowly, still taking in her bearings. She would miss Pentious’ portrait. 

She spent her first couple days walking around aimlessly in the golden-rimmed, shiny palace that was heaven. She found out you could still fight in heaven, but it was a safe sort of contest, or sport. And there wasn’t any deadly weapons, either. It was safe. She couldn’t lie and say there wasn’t nothing in Hell she missed, but it was comfortable up here. Like the calm after the storm. 

At the end of her first week, she decided to finally go out for drinks at a popular angelic bar. There was no hangovers here, Em had explained. And the liquor, she had found out, tasted unbelievably pleasant. No one was knocking into her, or groping her. No one was cornering her at gunpoint. People would come up and talk to her about more than just trying to get into her pants. 

And the best part? You could still go to town on the dance floor. And unlike she had originally joked, they still had catchy music and her favourite songs playing at clubs. That became most of her nightly routine, to try and start to recover from the pain of losing Pentious as quickly as she got him. Dancing out and about with angels, because she still, secretly, couldn’t think of herself as one. 

That was, until she accidentally bumped into a tall stranger, falling back slightly before she started apologizing, which was something Charlie had taught her about while she was still in rehabilitation. She thought she was quite good at it by now. She thought that until the tall stranger turned around and stole all the words from her throat for a second.

He was even more handsome, gold accents now covering his body as his eyes grew wide, words seeming to get stuck in his throat as well. She chuckled softly, snapping herself back out of her bewildered state. Be cool, Cherri. She thought. It was one kiss. She told herself. He’s probably forgotten now. 

“You fucker!” She chuckled out with her usual tone, punching him playfully and lightly in the arm, looking up at him with her eye that let him see right through her words, right into the rope that was squeezing her heart so hard it felt like it might burst. “You look even worse than when you last sacrificed yourself for us!” She tried at another sarcastic hit, only to be met with the same shocked silence, before his face melted into pure adoration.

“Don’t give me the goo-goo eyes, pleassseee.” She jokes, trying to avoid them, because she knew she’d melt just the same, swallowing thickly as he put his hand on her cheek, tilting her face to look up at his. Her bottom lip trembled.

“I didn’t know how you could look even prettier.” He mumbles out quietly, watching tears start to form in her eye as she tries to blink them away to no avail, blush spreading over her cheeks, just the same as the day he’d kissed her. “But you’ve gone and proved me wrong, Missss Cherri Bomb.” He mumbled out softly, leaning in slightly, eyes trailing to her lips and back up to eye, now a beautiful ocean blue. 

She sniffles softly, words stuck in her throat before he scoops her up by the curve of her back, dipping her down as he kissed her - just like months ago, his hand squeezing at her like she would slip out of his grip at any moment. She melted into the kiss, pressing her lips back against his, feeling back in the moment. Feeling a missing piece of her click back into place, finally. 

He finally pulled his lips off her, looking down at her with adoration swimming in his eyes, and she just smiles, blushing as she finally looks him in the eyes. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that again, Miss Cherri.” He mumbled out softly.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to do it again, Pentious.” She replied with a smile, tears in her eye finally breaking and a small stream of her tears running down her cheek as she put her hands onto the back of his head, eyeing his lips.

“One more time for good measure.” 

[pierofilm]

YANDERE FAIRY! TAEHYUN HEADCANONS 🍷🍒

author's note.. i was just watching sugar rush ride an hour ago and suddenly wanted to write yandere! taehyun 😭😭 anyways I want to grow my yandere collection as well (〒﹏〒)

warning.. dead cat being eaten- yandere behaviours..

despite being ill, you were adamant to chase after your auntie's cat who somehow lose a screw in her brain to suddenly sprint through the woods before your eyes.

the path to the woods were surrounded with branches that scrape against your frail arms and knees, only hissing at every contact for your mind has sent upon on finding your precious cat

though as you keep pushing through and through, the still trees seems to put your head in a dazed.

the ground beneath you pushing you down, resulting on your unconsciousness

when you woke up, you were met with the sight of lush pink hair and mysterious eyes staring deep into your soul. "pretty."

"uhm? who are you.." pushing your exhausted body away from the crouching boy in front of you.

he didn't answer, only curiosity spiraling in his fluttering orbs

his odd appearance intrigued you, for he reminds you of the characters you read in fairy tale books, like peter pan.

but as much as he pique your interest, fear blended with it as well.

you remain silent as you push yourself back up, his eyes still hovering on you. for a good moment, you thought he was a lifeless doll that somehow appears before you.

"where are you going, little miss?"

you swore your blood run cold when he finally spoke, gulping your saliva down your throat as you turn your head over your shoulder to look at those eyes once again.

"t-to find my cat.." stuttering, huh? you mentally cussed yourself for making yourself look like an easy prey. "just go away! why are you even looking at me like this??"

you sprint ahead, wanting nothing more but to avoid the pink haired boy. as the leaves crunched beneath your shivering feet, your eyebrows furrowed at the thought that the boy was probably not a human.

shaking the thought away, a meow from the distance perked your ears. relief washes over your soul when you recognise it as your aunt's cat call for help.

however as soon as you arrive to the source of the noise, your eyes shot wide open at the sight of the pink haired boy once again—this time with crimson shades dripping down his long fingers and down the corners of his cherry lips.

your scream echoed through the odd shades of the trees surrounding you.

your cat, a corpse by now, dangling on the tight grip of the pink haired boy as he hummed in delight, lapping his tongue against his lower lip. "you came again."

"m-my cat! what did you do?! you're insane!" you were unable to process the horrendous scene before you, ruffling your nails against your head in attempts to soothe your rampant heart.

"huh? your cat?" he looks down to the tiny corpse on the ground, giggling as his eyebrows raised upon the thought. "sorry! i didn't know, my bad.."

your rattling orbs froze when his nose brushes against your cheek, hot breathe brushing your neck causing shiver running down your spine. all happening in a split second.

"you'll forgive me right?"

"what?!"

"i said.. you'll forgive me right?" soft pink strands almost covering his guilty orbs yet expressionless face.

"how can i?!" you cried out, pushing him away harshly on his chest, tears flooding your eyes as your vision fell upon your cat's corpse. "you're fucking insane— get lost..! get lost!"

"i wasn't asking." the pink haired boy frowned, tilting his head as he did so. seemingly amused by your hysterical state. "it was an order, little miss."

"who do you think you are?!"

"your lover."

speechless, you have no desire to entertain the incarnation of insanity before you. deciding to let it go despite the ache gripping your heart.

however, it doesn't seem as if the pink haired boy had any intentions to let you go, though. opting to prevent you from going away by tugging your hair down much to your shriek of pain, "what do you think you're doing?! let me go you bastard!"

"i just think i had to tame you down a tiny bit, love."

"i am not your lover! you moron! let me go!"

"huh.. why?" the boy let out a dejected sigh, tightening his grip on your hair—pulling you closer to his chest. "i was being kind to you, by giving you a nice offer."

you whimpered in utter pain.

"i guess what they say was true," lifting your chin with his other hand, forcing you to meet his doe eyes. "humans are ungrateful."

"fuck you." you spat out.

he giggled at your face, "how about this..?" he hummed as he looks down at your lifeless cat.

"you seem really sad to see your pet being gone. would you like to be my pet instead, then?"

"you're insane! just who do you think you are?!"

"my name's taehyun." a menacing smirk adorned the pink haired boy's cherry lips as he leaned closer, "say hi to your new master, pet."

「 talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

[sage-green-matcha]

MAROON - ETHAN LANDRY PT. 6🍷🥀🔪

"And I wake with your memory over me. That's a real fuckin' legacy to leave” - Taylor Swift

Content includes: you being depressed! that's all

PT. 1 of Maroon I PT. 2 of Maroon I PT. 3 of Maroon |

PT. 4 of Maroon | PT. 5 of Maroon |

<3

<3

<3

You looked up, Danny Running into the police station with exhaustion on his face. "I came as fast as I could" "did you?" Tara questioned. He had become a suspect, not seeing him all day and now suddenly he appears, it was weird ."Guys, I'm scared" Mindy, who was always strong was scared, so the rest of you were horrified.

"I really don't wanna get hurt again" she mumbled. You took her hand into yours, placing your head on her shoulder. "Neither do I" Chads voice was shaky, cold, scared. The battle between the group and ghost Face was more than exhausting. You felt your will to live drain with every person you saw get hurt.

"I don't want you getting hurt again either, Chad" he rested his head on his twins shoulder, a soft "I know" escaping his lips. Sams was emotionless, eyes looking down as she thought, hard. "So what do we do now?" You sighed, Chads question going unanswered. None of you knew what to do, there was nothing you could do to make this stop. It was a never ending game and you weren't ready for the next level.

"Maybe he gets to win this time" Sam bit back on her lip, all of you looking up at her. "He wants to punish me, me. So maybe i let him" She stood up, defeat all over her face. "I'll just give myself up" she sniffed, shaking her head. You all looked at her with concern. "If this is what I have to do, to keep you safe. It's worth it" "No? We're not doing this, Sam. Alright? You loved back to Woodsboro to protect me, every singe day you make the decision to protect me. None of us would even be alive If it weren't for you" the three of you nodded, agreeing with Tara.

"You have to let us protect you this time" tears welled in her eyes, Sam shaking her head. "Yes, Sam...we're a Team? Remember?" You felt Mindy stand up, letting go of your hand. "Actually, we're a family" Chad smiled as he dragged you up, clapping. "Let's go! Fantastic 5! Come on" chad smiled at all of you, his face filling back with his classic smile.

"Fantastic five..yea okay" you felt bad for Danny, being excluded from the group. "It's an us thing" Chad added. "He's gonna keep coming after us" tears fell onto her cheeks, wiping them away with the sleeve of her jacket. "Isn't there somewhere safe we can just hol up in?" You almost forgot Quinn was still here, her presence not missed. "He's just gonna keep finding us" you answered, a sigh escaping her lips. "Great.."

"We could use that though..." you looked up at the group. "He keeps finding us, right? So what if we just go into a secure location and kill him...I mean it makes sense, we could use it to our advantage" the light bulb in your brain flickered with ideas. "Call Bailey" Tara grabbed her Phone, calling His Number.

"You want me to do what?" You could hear his confusion from over the phone, Tara going over the plan again. "And then what..?" You gulped, biting your lip with nerves. "We execute him" you waited for a response, scared that he wasn't gonna agree. "Are you gonna help us?" The silence was nerve wrecking. "Let's kill the son of a bitch" weight lifted off your shoulder, Chad patting you on the back.

"Now, I'm stuck here but Gale gave us the Key cards to the theater., It's got heavy surveillance and security cameras but we can use that against him. I'll tell Kirby to meet you there and I'll meet you kids as soon as i can" "Got it" you smiled, your plan already in action. "And remember, travel in public. The more people around you the less chance he has to take a shot at you before you get there" you chewed on the inside of your cheek, playing with the blood stained bracelets on your wrist.

"We should get going then" Quinn mumbled. "You guys really think this is gonna work?" You questioned your plan, everyone nodding. "Well it better, it's not like we have any better ideas" the walk to the Station was painful, crowds all over the streets of New York. Everyone was in costumes, what a fun way to spend your Halloween night.

"This plan feels junky" Quinn added, walking down the heavily crowded stairs. "You don't have to come if you don't want to" Tara spat. "So we just peel off and then the killer kills us off one by one? Yea, I think I'm good" "let's just get to the theater" you shook your head.

You followed Sam, taking a hold of her hand as she pushed inside the train. Chad and Tara followed behind. "Where's Mindy?" You furrowed your eyebrows, standing on your tiptoes to try and find her.

"Hey, Mindy! Mindy!" You watched as Chad tried to pull her in, blocked off by a stranger. "Fuck!" She banged against the door, a groan escaping your lips. "Well, we're fucked" you smiled awkwardly. "She's with Quinn right?" Sam asked. "Yea, great...shes alone with one of our suspects" chad mumbled.

"Shit..." you all looked at what Chad was looking at. Two masked figures mixed into the crowd. It was like a haunted house packed into a train, the masks varying from ghost face to jigsaw. "How many stops do we have?" Tara asked, Sam looking at the map. "Ten..." you all looked at each other again, heads shaking as you pulled out your phone. You opened Mindys text, reading it out loud. "Great, I'm stuck with gf. I'll meet you guys there" well, this plan is going really well!" You exaggerated. You began to question why you even brought up the idea. But it's not like anyone had anything better. It also just made the most sense.

The train made a stop, Scooting yourself back as you saw a ghost face mask walk towards your group. "Guys.." Cute boy stood in front of all of you, your paranoid states calming down as the mask man walked out of the train.

"Finally, come on let's go" You all walked out of the train station, Kirby waiting as you exited. "Hey, I talked to Bailey, we've got everything set up...where are Mindy and Quinn?" "They're 5 minutes behind us" you filled her in, walking into the dark alley to get into the theater. "Not you, Dan. Don't trust anyone...remember? We don't know you" it was safer if he didn't come, if he was ghost face than fuck, but if he wasn't it would be safer if he wasn't involved at all.

Your heart raced as you entered, looking around the familiar space. "I cleared the whole place before you got here, so this is the only way to get in it out. We've turned it into a kill box" "and...the weapons?" She pointed down to her belt. "One gun, and I hold onto it" Sam gave her a stare. "I'm the only one with a badge here, so that's the way it's gonna be, we're safe here"

"I'll check in with Mindy, see if they're close" sam and Tara took off their jackets. You tied Ethan's tightly around your waist, checking for the knife in your pocket. You started carrying one since Woodsboro, you knew it would come in handy.

You decided to wait upstairs by yourself, probably not the best idea but you knew you'd be safe. Chad and Tara wandered off, Sam in your eyesight as she stood on the stage.

You heard her phone ring, running up to the balcony before rushing down the stairs. "Sam" she turned, her eyes squinting as she took the call. "Get out of there Sam, you're not safe" You looked down at the phone in confusion, Bailey on the other line. "I heard from the Atlanta field office, they said agent Reeds has been on a downward spiral since the Woodsboro murders last year" "What is he talking about?" She shrugged, turning up the volume on her phone.

"They fired Kirby two months ago for being mentally unstable" You gave Sam a look, the both of you putting the pieces together. "She's no longer with the FBI" Your eyes widened before you ran towards the door. "No! Sam, it's locked, remember?" She tried to wiggle the door open, stopping as the lights shut off. "Where'd you get that knife?" "My dad's box.." she pulled your closer, holding the weapon out in front of her.

Your heart jumped as you heard a noise, a voice. Coming from the projector. There was a video playing on the ripped-up screen, no idea how it got down. "Oh...shit" it was a girl getting stabbed, murdered by someone in a ghost face mask. The two of you watched in horror, no words as the film continued to play.

"Could you put that thing down?" You asked and she shook her head. You heard a loud scream, glass breaking as you and Sam rushed towards the others. You swung open the door, scared as Tara screamed in pain. "Come on! Come on! Go, go" you panted as you ran, helping Tara stay up. "It's Kirby! She's the killer!" "No shit!" Chad ran towards the door. "That's locked!" You screamed, "She made this whole theater a kill box" you added, walking down.

"Hey! What about that? There's an Exit door! Maybe it leads to the roof or something?” You pointed, everyone, looking down at the ladder. "There's only one way to find out, come on let's go" "Baileys on his way by the-" You jumped back, Ghost Face waving his awful knife in front of you. “God, we’re fucked”

[barbex]

“I wish you would write a scene where feelings realization leads to crying with Fenders”. For DADWC 😇🙏

Thank you for the prompt!

🍷🍷🍷 It's truly drunk writing for tonight's @dadrunkwriting, so I'm taking no responsibility for typos and grammar weirdness.

---

It's strangely quiet tonight. The mage and him are... talking. Just talking. Civilised, without yelling and snarling. It started down at the coast, Fenris doesn't even remember what he said but somehow Anders launched into a passionate speech against slavery, swearing to tear every single magister apart and Fenris found himself staring at the mage with a strange feeling in his chest.

Now they just walk through the streets of Kirkwall, both reluctant to call an end to the day. Hawke left them a while ago, waving at them from the door of her mansion and Fenris and Anders somehow took it upon them to patrol the streets of Lowtown. He doesn't know why. It's as if they don't want to part, not yet.

He is recalling a meal he once tasted, a tevinter speciality, and Anders compares it to something he once ate in Orlais, guessing at ingredients, herbs. They're distracted. He is distracted. 

It's the only explanation he has because one minute he wonders at the glitter in Anders' eyes and the next his ears are ringing and the lyrium in his skin is burning and the setting sun blinks through a wall of templar armor. 

They're threatening him, not Anders. "Feels like a mage", one of them says with a feral grin. "Smells like a dose," another leers. They step closer, five of them, too many to kill all at once, not here, in his small alley where he can't swing his sword. 

And then Anders steps in. His simple part time walking stick, part time spear, glows with the fade, crackling as he slams it into the ground, making the cobblestones vibrate. He takes out two templars, skewering them with ice shards and then burning them to ash. Fenris sinks his fist in one templar, taking out his heart, and then into the other, who steps forward as if nothing could hurt him. But the last one, smarter than his friends, side steps behind Anders, casts Silence, and then plunges a knife into Anders' neck.

Fenris can only watch as Anders stares at him, his hand pressed against his neck. Blood wells up between his fingers, so much blood. The templar runs off, and Fenris catches Anders in his arms as he falls. Anders' eyes are open, looking at him, his mouth silently opening and closing. 

"Can you heal?" Fenris asks, pressing his hand over Anders'.

"No, silenced," Anders presses out. Blood drips from both their hands, sluggish but steady. Fenris fumbles for a health potion, pouring one half over the wound and dipping the rest into Anders' mouth. The bleeding slows, but Anders' eyes roll back and he hangs like a sack of grains in Fenris' arms.

Fenris carries him to Hawke's mansion, kicking the door until Bodhan opens it with a loaded crossbow aimed at him. "Serah Fenris, my apologies."

"Help." Fenris carries the mage past Bodhan into the hall. "Hawke! Come here!"

"What?" Hawke appears at the top of the stairs and starts running down when she sees them. "Shit, fuck, put him on the couch there. Bodhan, fetch the injury kit, please." She's by his side in the blink of an eye, efficiently checking the wound. Bodhan hands her a bag and she is busy applying a poultice and bandages. 

Fenris steps back. He can't do anything and he doesn't want to be in the way. His hands, arms, and his armor are full of Anders' blood and he walks to the washroom to clean himself up. Pink water swirls down the drain as he cleans his hands. Anders' blood. 

"Fenris?" Hawke puts her hand on his shoulder, waking him from a strange kind of stupor. His hands are cold, still suspended in the cold, pink water.

"How..." He just looks at her, lifting his hands from the water. 

"He's going to be fine, he just lost a lot of blood." Hawke takes a towel and dries his hands with it. "How are you?"

"I'm... I..." Tears fall from his eyes and his breath turns into a heaving sob. "I nearly lost him."

"I didn't know you felt this way," Hawke says quietly.

Fenris hasn't cried in years but now he can't seem to stop, the tears just roll down his cheeks, gathering in the corners of his lips. They taste salty.

"Come," Hawke says and takes his hand. She leads him over to the couch where Anders rests. He looks pale, nearly as white as the thick bandages at his neck but he breathes evenly.

Fenris stops, letting his hand slip out of Hawke's grasp. "Will you watch him?"

"No."

"What?" Fenris stares at her. 

Hawke grins at him. "You will watch him. And don't give me that 'I must keep my feelings secret because I'm a tortured soul' bullshit." She grabs his hand again and pulls him to a chair next to the couch. "Sit your ass down and don't you dare sneak away." 

"Hawke, I... I can't." Despite his protests, he sits down, looking at Anders.

Hawke looms over him, pressing him deeper into the chair. "I have never seen you cry. I have never even seen you show a strong emotion, except for when you hiss at mages. And now you cried because Anders nearly died and I may be a romantic idiot but you're gonna stay here, and hold his hand, and when he wakes up, you're going to tell him that you're happy he's alive. Understood?"

Fenris takes Anders' hand, wrapping his fingers around it one by one. "Why is this so important to you?"

Her face turns dark. "Because happiness is scarce in this shit town." She straightens and looks Anders over. "He'll be fine. I'm going back to bed." She puts her hand on top of his, the one that is holding Anders' hand. "It's your life, Fenris. Don't run away from it."

Hawke leaves with a nod, climbing up the stairs. Fenris pulls the chair closer and watches Anders breathe. Another tear adds to the salty taste in his mouth. He nearly lost him and he didn't even know what that meant.

[spooky-catboy-angel]

There was a kid 🥺 who came 🏃🚏 home 🏡 red ‼️ from 😰 panic and fear 😰 Some 👬 kids 👹👺 at the school 🏫 had beaten‼️ him 😵‍😭 way past tears 😵‍💫👩‍👦His mom 😧 cried 🧔‍♀️ "Jesus Christ" 🍞 🍷 As she 🫱 cleaned 🩹 the blood 🩸 pouring out ↘️ of his ears 🙉 But it was 🙀 obvious 🙊 that, 👀 quiet 🤫 as a rat,🐀🐁 God was ❌ nowhere 🚫 near 🏚

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 2/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,748 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 @tild3ath @iiirhiane-g

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Please consider reblogging if you enjoy the read ❤️ (Thanks for all the support you've given my lil story so far!)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You push yourself to your feet and hurry over to his kitchen, flipping on the recessed lighting overhead. The kitchen is as bare and spotless as the other rooms you’ve seen, its countertops clear of the usual clutter you’d expect. No rags nor paper towel roll. No knife block nor coffee maker nor toaster—the appliances are the ones that come standard with the unit. No stacks of unopened mail nor candles nor cookbooks nor a sink full of empty dishes. No signs of life except for the adorable houseplant and some liquid hand soap beside the sink (which is good—you need soap).

You pull open drawers and cabinets, feeling a twinge of guilt for invading his privacy like this but it can’t be helped. Even those are mostly empty, only containing the barest amount of necessities like cups, dishes, and flatware—run-of-the-mill kitchen items that were probably provided with the furnished unit. You do manage to find some clean rags and paper towels (and a coffee maker), but nothing like sandwich bags for the ice. On a whim, you check his freezer and bingo! No food or decapitated heads but plenty of ice packs along with an unopened bottle of vodka. You arch an eyebrow at the curious yet amusing stash. Perhaps coming home injured is a typical Friday night for him.

You turn on the sink faucet then tear off a few sheets of paper towels from the roll, wadding them up and wetting them before adding a few pumps of soap then working up a lather. You can’t get the sight of his bleeding face and swollen neck out of your head. It’s hard to imagine anyone doing that to him against his will. He’s an intimidating guy, to say the least. Over a head taller than you, powerfully built with broad shoulders and thick thighs (and a nice ass). Perhaps he got jumped on his walk home—an all too common occurrence on these crime-ridden streets—and his stubborn pride was too wounded to go to the ER. Or maybe it was a gang thing… some sort of hazing ritual? That could explain the bloody letter on his cheek, too, you suppose. But then you remember his shaking hands and fumbling fingers as he tried and failed to unlock his door, and how he jumped at the sound of your voice. He was scared, you realize, your heart swelling with sudden pity. He was more afraid of you than you were of him. Afraid, and probably hurting, too. That thought makes your heart swell even more. It also leaves you a bit shaken. What in God’s name could frighten him? You can only hope that whatever it is doesn’t plan to make a house call anytime soon.

With the items in hand—ice packs, wet and dry rags, soapy paper towel wads, paper towel roll—you return to his side. He still doesn’t appear to have stirred, which is troubling, you have to admit, but you put it out of your mind for now. You set the items down on the floor beside the corpse-like body before grabbing a throw pillow from his couch. (Yes, a throw pillow. There’s a throw blanket on the couch, too. It’s the strongest evidence yet supporting your furnished unit presumption, since he definitely doesn’t strike you as a throw pillow kind of guy.) You kneel down at his side, then, ever so gently, you slip an arm behind his neck and lift his head enough to pull back his hood and slide the pillow beneath him. Next you take off his cap, revealing a mop of sweat-damp black hair. You sweep the soft locks back from his forehead so that you can place a cold rag against that warm, sweat-slick skin.

That’s when you notice the scars. You’d never been close enough to him to see that his face is absolutely covered in them. Faint white lines that cut through his features: his dark brows, his full lips, his freckle-dusted cheeks, the bent bridge of his nose. The worst one (aside from the J on his cheek, that is) is a deep gash that slashes across his right cheek and his nose, all the way up to his forehead. Another knife wound? Is this guy a masochist with a knife fetish or is there some freak out there who gets off on slicing up this poor guy’s face? Those marks on his neck imply the latter—the more sinister of the two—and that sends a cold chill shuddering up your spine.

Almost magnetically your eyes are drawn back past the (cute) cleft in his chin to those sunken bands of red ringing his throat. A thin line of blood has surfaced along the outer edge of one of the bands, where whatever was used to strangle him had cut into his skin. As you wipe away the blood with one of the soapy paper towel wads you spot several scratches on his neck, and for a moment you wonder if the assailant also used his hands to choke him. But then you feel your own throat constrict as the horrible realization sets in: those are claw marks. Gouges from his own fingernails where he desperately struggled to pry the ligature away and free his windpipe so he could breathe. Defensive wounds where he fought for his life.

You set aside the wet wad, then, driven by some morbid curiosity, you find your fingers returning to his throat. Ever so delicately, as if trying not to wake a sleeping lion, you touch one of the raw indentations in his swollen flesh, tracing it with your fingertip, feeling how the abraded skin had folded inward around whatever had coiled around his neck and tried to choke the life out of him. His throat vibrates gently against your probing fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You lay one of the dry rags across his throat, hiding the hideous damage, then place the ice pack on top, as instructed by the health article you Googled. You do the same for the back of his neck as well.

Now you turn your attention back to his scarred, haggard face. After swiping away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth you press the soapy paper towel to his cheek, which gradually turns from white to pink as it soaks up the blood seeping from the J carved into his flesh. Once you staunch the bleeding, you lift the towel to replace it with a fresh one, and you get an unimpeded view of what was hiding beneath the cut and the blood, beneath his hat and hood all of those times you passed him in the hallway, all of those times he ducked his head between hunched shoulders to avoid eye contact with you. You pull in a sharp breath. It’s not a J-shaped scar; it’s the letter J branded into his cheek. You can tell by how the skin is puckered around the too-precise curve of the raised letter, by its faint red outline, by how it seems to tug uncomfortably at his cheek.

Your mind rewinds to a few weeks back when you accidentally burned your neck with your curling iron. You’d shrieked like a banshee then thrown the damn thing across your bathroom. The blistered patch of seared skin had throbbed for the rest of the night, and was still sensitive to the touch for the following week. That was the result of hot ceramic glancing against your skin for maybe half a second, if that long. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it would’ve hurt to have held the infernal thing against your neck for long enough to melt a fucking letter into the flesh. And not just any flesh. His cheek; that tender skin right below the orbital bone, less than an inch from his eye. It probably felt like his eyeball was boiling in his eye socket from the immense heat. And the smell! His own flesh barbecuing like meat to be served at a cannibal cook-out…

You don’t want to think about it anymore. You can’t think about it anymore or else you’re gonna be sick. And luckily you don’t have to because a low moan slips from his lips and his lashes begin to flutter. A rush of relief floods through you at the small signs of life, and you absently begin to stroke his soft hair with your hand. Heavy eyelids strain to lift then glassy blue eyes are peeking out from between the slits. You smile down at him, your fingers caringly combing through his tousled hair, easing his way back into consciousness. You expect him to groggily ask where he is or what happened to him.

Instead his eyes snap open, and the romantic portrait you’ve painted inside your mind of this moment is ripped to shreds.

He bolts upright, sending rags and ice packs flying away from him, then that massive wall of muscular torso turns on you. Time seems to somehow speed up and slow down simultaneously as those large, dangerous hands of his are reaching for you, and in that terrible instant you know without a doubt that he means to strangle you. A tiny, panic-stricken sound—the choked cry of ensnared prey—comes from your mouth as you throw up your arms across your face and neck in an comically feeble attempt to defend yourself from certain death, and the thought that flashes through your mind—maybe the last thought you’ll ever have in this lifetime—is that you’ll never have the chance to open that bottle of merlot.

But his hands don’t wrap around your throat; they land on your shoulders, and then you’re sliding, falling backwards from the force of a violent shove, your vision flashing to black as your head bounces off the hardwood floor.

“Ow!” you squeal as a bright burst of pain rings through your skull, leaving you stunned for a split second until your fear takes over, clearing away the haze and stars. You push yourself up on your forearm, blood pounding through your ears as your eyes frantically search for your attacker, heart lurching as you find him.

The guy is scrambling backwards away from you on all fours like some frightened beast, slamming into a floor lamp in his haste to escape. The lamp reels drunkenly, throwing light madly around the room as it whirls, like a waving searchlight at a festival. Then he’s pressed into a corner, able to go no further, yet his hands and heels are gripping the floor for purchase, as if he’s trying to push himself into the walls. As the lamp settles, somehow still upright, its light illuminates the hulking figure backed into the corner behind it, and you notice for the first time that the front of his red hoodie is splattered with an even darker red.

You’re sitting up now, frozen like a deer in headlights, your fight or flight reflexes canceling each other out because you’ve realized that you’re the toothless predator, not the prey, and the guy you’re gaping at with his bloodless face and wild eyes is a cornered animal who’ll do anything to survive. Then, to your horror, that cornered animal seems to remember his claws and reaches for the gun that’s not there, and you thank the universe and every holy entity within it that you disarmed him.

His wide eyes narrow as they lock onto you, and the fear that had filled them only a heartbeat ago has vanished, replaced with a look so cold, so devoid of anything but shadows and darkness, that it turns the blood in your veins to ice. 

“Who are you? What’re you doing in my apartment? What the fuck did you do with my gun?” Some of the wildness returns to his eyes as he shouts at you with a scarred voice, wheezing between each sentence. You shrink back, shocked that the guy can speak louder than a mumble, then your attention is caught by something more unnerving than his shouting, something that clutches at your insides. His eyes… The little hairs on the back of your neck stir again as you study those pale blue irises flecked with green, barely visible beneath his blown-out pupils yet still trained on you like a sniper’s laser sights. There’s something wrong with his eyes… But before you can figure it out he roars: “Answer me!” and you can’t help but jump at the hateful ferocity, his deadly strength palpable in his tone.

Your heart’s in your throat again, and your mind is racing out his door, terrified all 200-something pounds of him are about to pounce on you, so you’re surprised when you not only find your words, but shout them back at him, just as vicious.

“Take it easy! I'm your neighbor, remember? You passed out. I was trying to help you. I thought you were fucking dying!”

You see a flicker of recognition flash over his face before a coughing fit takes him. Then it hits you, like a punch to the gut as you watch him clutching at his blood-splattered chest again as he gasps for a breath. His eyes… they’re red where they should be white. All of the binged episodes of Forensic Files come flooding back to you and you even remember the term for it: petechial hemorrhaging. Burst blood vessels from strangulation. His strangulation.

The rush of pity that wells up in your chest at the awful realization calms your fear enough that you crawl a tiny bit closer to him. “You’re hurt,” you say gently, trying to keep your nerves from shaking your voice. “Your neck…”

You trail off as his eyes snap back to you, pupils still blown wide. You try to hold onto his skittish gaze, praying he won’t notice his gun behind you and lunge, but his eyes fall away to the floor. He raises his free hand to his neck, as slowly as if his wrists were chained to the floor, and touches one of the red furrows there. Then his trembling fingers move to his brand, where fresh beads of blood have surfaced. You hear him mutter something so low and tremulous it’s barely audible, but you think it sounded like… “Plan J”?

“I cleaned it with soap and water,” you reply as he stares blankly at his bloody fingertips. “But it’s deep. You may need stitches. I can bring you some Band-Aids,” you pause, feeling really fucking stupid for suggesting Band-Aids for the guy who’s been strangled and cut and branded. You blurt out the rest: “If you need them… for the time being.”

His eyes have glazed over, as if he’s gone somewhere far away. Somewhere terrible, because his rasping breath quickens and his whole body starts to shake, as though he’s reliving something. His attack? His branding? All of the times that monster of a person cut his face? You desperately want to reach for his hand, to pull him back from whatever hell he’s been sucked into, but you’re too scared to wake that cornered wild animal again.

Finally he snaps out of it, and his eyes close as his hand drops limply to the floor. You watch helplessly as the tension drains from his body and he sags forward, like he’s been crushed by whatever was waiting for him in that flashback.

“You should go,” he mumbles to the floor, barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself agree. As you stand you remind yourself that you can finally have that glass of wine, but the notion isn’t as appealing as it was earlier in the night.

You gather up your phone and bag. You start to ask if you can get him anything before you go but you know his answer so you turn to leave. 

“Thank you.” His small voice cracks like a little boy’s when he speaks, and you know he’s started to cry.

“Yeah, sure,” you say softly as you turn the knob and push open his door. You glance over your shoulder at him one last time. The sight of the broken boy—the boy whose name you still don’t know—huddled in a corner with his knees pulled to his chest, weeping into his hands, wrings your heart out like a wet rag, and you feel your own throat tighten up with tears. You hang your head as you shut the door softly behind you.

[irasamu]

. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE ; an akutagawa ryuunosuke fic.❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . ahhhhhhhh finally the man i simp for is here!!

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; fem!reader, angst, comfort, hurt/comfort, husband!akutagawa, father!akutagawa, wife!reader, akutagawa siblings and their slight bonding time, akutagawa is insecure and feels he is a worthless shit, dazai angst (mentioned for aku regarding the older and his mentorship), slight suggestive ending and that's all i remember tbh

oxygen is absolutely essential for human survival and so are some more external factors which extends further then what a human's basic needs may require. however, we aren't talking about human needs but rather what one's humanity needs.

in initial years even the strongest man alive would need a father, a pillar of support and a bundle of knowledge.

of course the mafioso never had the privilege of having this one figure and rather he was this figure for his sister but only his sister knows if he played the role right or failed.

what he, the mafioso who is now on his way to exit the slums he grew up in, is sure of, is that he is failing as an actual father and as a husband.

"maybe if it was a daughter  . . . instead of a son then . . .  maybe you could've seen gin in your child and loved it." were the words you uttered in despair a week ago to him, what resulted in these words being spoken was the incompetent man himself who felt himself flater when he picked his  son and the nearly one year old began crying. he wasn't scared or else you would've not wasted a second in taking him from akutagawa's arms but rather it was the feeling of finally being adored by the man whose appearance he takes after greatly that moved the naive heart of his son.

akutagawa couldn't take the horrifying resemblance out of his mind. the way your chin wobbled and lip quivered as you tried not to burst into tears and the eyes glossed over with tears which screamed of despair was what he found on his son's face as well. and he wondered, truly he did of who is more starved of love ; him, his son or you?

his only regret was that he stood like he always did whenever faced with the outburst of someone he is close to though the one who made him adopt such a habit isn't here anymore with him and the next morning, akutagawa had to leave for a week long mission overseas with his sister and of course he would crumble and his facade would break when gin found him staring at a picture of you and his son on his phone one night when he was fooled to think his sister had already submitted to her slumber, she didn't, she watched the previous and the night before it as well but waited for the cause of her brother's despair.

akutagawa pushed his hand into the pocket of his long coat and felt for the small velvet box as if the object could help to soothe his nerves and anxiety.

he told gin everything for who else if not her whenever something concerned you? when the topic revolved around you or around your son, the only person akutagawa trusted enough was his own flesh and blood. and he wonders why gin respects, admires and loves him so much when all gin felt was admiration for the man she feels fortunate to call brother.

but akutagawa doesn't feel so. he is but failure in the rawest form. a tragedy and a utter ugly and horrible mess of his past self which was broken by the mind of curiosity and joined back in a way he (akutagawa and the man who was once his mentor) knew there was no going back to who he was before. but that's fine after all, akutagawa had been a monster since birth.

akutagawa's hand left the box which oddly provided him with strength as he stood infront of the door behind which lied his home, he punched in the pass code before hearing the click of the lock unlocking and the cold of the metal he pushed down on felt a bit too chilly today.

or is this because he is scared of failing? of disappointing and of loosing the only chance he has of having a family of his own and proving to himself that he can be something more than a tossed aside toy?

akutagawa shook his head as he entered the apartment and closed the door behind him with his leg to see the boxes containing many items ranging from clothes to toys and teethers and various other items which akutagawa bought himself for his son with the assistance of his sister during the last two days after the mission was completed.

akutagawa took off his shoes and quietly strolled into the nursery room. he stood infront of the crib and peered down at the face of his son. akutagawa gulped as why was it that such an innocent soul was cursed to have features similar to him but just softer?

akutagawa's hands turned to fists by his sides as he continued to stare down at his son with a longing and he pondered for a while.

after what seemed like five minutes of contemplating, akutagawa saw his son stir in his sleep and he got alarmed thinking the little one would wake up at any moment. the little boy turned to face akutagawa and opened his eyes and oh.

akutagawa's heart beat fastened and his eyes widened at the innocence and purity in his eyes. he had this innocence once too. so did gin and maybe, maybe dazai did too?

akutagawa ridded himself of all these thoughts before he leaned down to pat his son's back, the latter looked up at akutagawa and the father had to brace himself and use everything in him to not cower under the pure stare of his son whose face brightened at the sight of his father. the boy giggled and the father closed his eyes, the combination of his son's giggles and his own heartbeat is oddly not that bad or unbearable to hear.

when akutagawa opened his eyes again he saw the boy raising his little chuuby fingers to akutagawa and he hesitantly raised his own hand towards his son as well but before the boy could take his father's finger in his hold, akutagawa flinched and pulled his shaking finger back.

the boy pouted but blinked for how can his young brain comprehend the horrors and anguish his father is experiencing?

akutagawa stared at his fingers and then at his son in horror, he couldn't let the soul filled with hope and dreams to be tainted by touching his hands which are daily stained in blood.

but when his son began to whine and babble as he made grabby hands at akutagawa, the mafioso could only stand his ground for a few seconds before his resolve crumbled and he extended his hand for his son to hold.

the little boy immediately latched his hand around akutagawa's fingers and giggled, a smile appearing on akutagawa's face as well. he turned to look towards the door to see you standing there, leaning on the doorway with your head against it and arms crossed over your chest.

akutagawa found it hard to breath but so did you. how were you supposed to talk to the one you are afraid of disappointing and how were you supposed to talk to the one who felt too scared to be cared for?

but one more glance at your husband's finger gripped by your son and your heart melted like it always did and you smiled in defeat at akutagawa, letting him know you had let your walls down again and are ready to talk to him again. the man widened his eyes slightly in surprise because truth be told, he seriously thought he failed and messed everything up this time and that this is the last time he would be able to see his son or you and hence he tried to savour the moment.

slowly and very faintly, akutagawa smiled back and tilted his head.

"i missed you."

there it is again, the feeling of hope of having a future brighter then the past when he read what you silently whispered and akutagawa nodded before he awkwardly looked at his son again, pursing his lips but then he looked at you and muttered,

"gin missed you both . . . and so did i."

the words makes you smile as you nod and turn around to leave the man alone in the company of his son. only lord knows how hard it must've been for your stoic husband who is generally bad with dealing with feeling and emotions to utter these words to you.

you smile as you sit on the couch and take your phone out to ask gin when she would be returning at night as the woman was immediately called to the port mafia headquarters for what you assume as her reporting her end of the mission. you hit the send button and scroll up to play the video again which gin sended you two nights ago, the video showed akutagawa with furrowed eyebrows as he compared two different types of rattling toys before looking at gin and shrugging, he said something along the lines of "both looks shit. how on earth do kids play with these?", before he tossed both into the shopping cart behind him as gin giggled.

you remember how when you saw the video for the first time and read the caption gin added 'looks like papa is trying to make up to his baby and wife.', made you smile and your anger immediately evaporated.

it must have been ten minutes later when you were leaning back on the couch with your legs on top of the coffee table infront of you when the door to the nursery was quietly closed, you turned your head to see akutagawa approach you after what you assumed was him putting his son to sleep, the thought itself made your heart swell with adoration.

". . . i put him to sleep." akutagawa whispered albeit he remained unsure of what to do. should he sit on the couch next to you or continue awkwardly standing infront of the coffee table under your gaze which seemed to see way beneath the layering of his clothes and skin and made him feel utterly exposed to you?

he decided on the former.

your voice isn't soft nor is it gentle, it is shaky and unstable, raspy and filled with sorrow. but akutagawa was never into that type anyway, the calm before the storm? yeah no. akutagawa knew the storm and felt calm in it for he is the one who grew through the storm and lives in it.

akutagawa sat next to you and you tilted your head in his direction as he contemplated before he extended his hands to grab your thighs and place your legs on his lap, it gave him a sense of security as he tricked his mind into believing he is being restrained until and unless you two clear the tension between you two but you both knew it was mostly so he could have something to focus on rather then looking into your eyes with the fear of his stoicism slipping away.

"it's not that you are a bad father." you began after concluding that he wasn't going to make the first move, you looked down as you picked on your nails to distract yourself, "you are trying. and that's what hurts ryuu. you are trying and i see it, i see your efforts but our son . . . he is not even one yet, he doesn't and won't understand it. us trying isn't enough for him because he will grow up to despise us both because he doesn't know you like i do, he hadn't seen you struggling and . . . and he won't see you as a father but as a man he shares the same features and last name with." you confess.

safety and protection is a luxury he never received but is trying to give.

"what good is not looking past your exterior? i just . . .  love you alot to even think of you as a lost case." you answer before you look down as you part your lips but close them again before gathering the strength to look up at akutagawa, "are . . . i thought about this alot but  . . ."

". . . i know." he answered after a long moment of silence and you looked at him, thickly gulping as the nimble and lithe fingers of your husband traces over your thigh. he pushes your nightgown upwards to reveal more of your skin to him. "maybe your biggest misfortune was falling for a monster like me."

the words hit you and you feel the effects of it physically, your breath got stuck in your throat or did they even ever travel through the windpipe because maybe the latter can explain why your eyes are getting teary.

your brain sighed at the way your heart is making these baseless excuses to explain its sadness at the words of the one it dances every day and night for.

akutagawa sadly looked at you and he felt time blurring around him, your eyes filled with tears were shining or maybe it was the light reflecting it?

okay but how will he explain his own heart beating faster as if mimicking your's to not let your heart dance the waltz of sorrow alone?

"then change my misfortune into fortune." your voice cracks as you look at him through teary eyes, head tilting as you smile in defeat and in response, akutagawa comfortingly squeezed the flesh of your thigh.

"what good is it having faith in a lost case?"

akutagawa closed his eyes as he repeated the words 'my husband' in the back of his head. the title fills good and soft on his tongue and maybe it's why his shoulders relaxed as he moved before laying down on the couch with you still on top of him as he didn't break the kiss for even a second.

you take a deep breath, "am i holding onto you against your wishes ryuu?"

you were going to clarify your meaning and feelings more but it all disappeared the moment you saw akutagawa stare at you in utter surprise on his usually stoic or sad and almost lost face. you take a few shaky breaths to not burst out crying as that'll just hinder your conversation and so instead, you shrug and try to smile admist your quivering lips.

"what made you think that?" he asked, voice uncharacteristically soft.

". . everything since the past few days." you answer and watch akutagawa pat your thigh as an indication to ask you to move closer to him.

"i told you i am a lost cause. i'll hurt you and disappoint you."

but how can he when even the tone he is using with you is one which felt as if it's a feather tickling you?

"i also told i don't care, i can take it as long as you love me." you mutter out, moving near him as you hide your face against his shoulder and akutagawa gripped your hips to lift you up before adjusting you to sit sideways on his lap.

"can you take it? are you ready to wait for an excruciatingly long period of time?" akutagawa muttered against the top of your head, his hand smoothed the nightgown cloth against your legs.

"always." you breath out, closing your eyes.

akutagawa looked down at you and shook his head, leaning down to kiss your nape before he mumbled against it, "you really are an idiot for saying this."

"let me be one then. a idiot in love." you peek up at him and akutagawa took it as an opportunity to cup your jaw and pull you towards his mouth.

"does this make me the fool trying and disappointing you every time?" he whispered against your lips and licked his own.

". . . you are a good father and a good husband. you . . . i just i don't know."

"you don't know?" akutagawa's lips curled up into a small and amused smile. you leaned near him and the distance between your lips and his is enough for someone watching from a distance to assume you two are kissing.

"i just know that i want to spend my life with you even if it means waiting for you, i just want to appreciate your efforts for me and our son but . . . that'll only be possible when you stop viewing yourself as a monster."

"and what am i if i am not a monster?"

"my husband." you close your eyes as you lean to kiss him, akutagawa hums before raising his hand to massage the spot behind your ear while the other gripped your thigh to pull you more onto his lap.