#you��re dead!
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For the glory of Bhaal 💀🎶
Bones bones, roses roses...
#dark art#illustration#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bhaal#dead god#dark urge#dark fantasy#skeleton#artists on tumblr#in his name#love marrow's daddy#feel free to use it as a wallpaper but the hi-res version you know where <3
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Danny Fenton, aka Phantom, has been given a new task!
In short, literally no one in the Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms wants their mostly peaceful afterlife to be rocked by a certain Gotham rogue named Joker. Which, when he dies, is almost sure to happen because of whatever the hell was in that vat he dropped in included ectoplasm. So, yay, he’s also a little ghostly too, meaning he *is* pretty hard to kill. Unfortunately, there’s also a certain vigilante that is quite keen to murder him in recent years.
So now Danny has to keep the mass murderer trauma clown alive for as long as he possibly can while attempting to keep the Joker from. Well. Being the Joker.
Oh, and naturally, Danny got this assignment AFTER Joker got out of Arkham. Again. And entirely blew up the asylum. Time to join the Goonion, he is NOT doing this without getting PAID, thank you.
#danny phantom#dpxdc#dp crossover#the idea is that Danny is now an. assistant? henchman? who will NOT let this man die but also can’t let him just put bombs everywhere#Danny’s search history is stuff like how do I give enrichment to a super villain so he doesn’t kill more people#it shockingly has results#there’s also possibly a ghostly court case bc some people who died DO want joker dead and are willing to re-kill him once he….#…. re-emerges as a ghost if that’s what it takes#danny is the MOST reluctant body guard#he’s using Psycho Babble! he’s using Jazz Fenton Language!#he hates it! he can strategize and such just fine but he’s really more of a…#… punch thing until it stops being a problem#sort of guy. percussive maintenance as his dad would say#he’s just there like#Hello Mr. Joker#have you considered NOT setting the orphanage on fire? there are better ways to get senpai to notice you#I heard flowers are nice. wait no do NOT call Poison Ivy-!#Danny is having a bad time. joker is having a time once he realizes Danny would rather not be here but is seemingly stuck#also joker maybe tried to kill him and it failed so he’s like#well. hm. that’s. not as new as it should be. have you met lord deathman?#the bats are trying to figure out this dynamic and failing miserably. they even call Harley and she’s like yeah no clue good luck tho
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.ngl Davrin came out of nowhere and just hehehehehehhehe 👉👈😳💕.
#davrin#dragon age#dav#dragon age veilguard#dav rook#Farid Thorne#rook#davrin x rook#rook x davrin#sketch#.i started as a lord of fortune but theres like one quest in rivain lmao sooo.#.changed to a warden who was convicted of piracy and then conscripted by my hof andrastopher.#.again i make a grey warden whomdoesnt care abt being a warden lmao.#.also switched from warrior to rogue bc idk bows yknow.#.he has like 9 kids and is a father to none.#.you can pry rivaini panpoly out of my cold dead hands.#.i got a lot of approval from Davrin re convo choices so okie dokie.#.considering he was third outa of the three men and then he just pulverised them both and stole my heart lmao love him.#.other news I’m still building a house irl.#.will anyone ever decode this alphabet I made up????? probably not :).#.i would just like to add that the rivaini panoply is LoF exclusive so they have indeed pried it from my cold dead hands :(.
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Home made Dead Boy Detective stickers!!
#Thinking abt re-making these on procreate#can you tell who's who 👀#dead boy detectives season 2#dead boy detectives agency#dead boy detectives#dead boy detectives fanart#starfruitsomething#my art#traditional art#stickers#my stickers#george rexstrew#jayden revri#edwin payne#charles rowland#ghosts#renewdeadboydetectives#payneland#painland#charles x edwin#edwin x charles#dbda#dbdshow
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after death ; life again.
what a lovely bouquet! what's the occasion?
#submas#maybe it says something about our world when we adorn our dead with flowers.#human lives and flowers. both so fragile. both beautiful in their own rights.#an eternal cycle; to return to the earth and re-emerge as something wonderful#all this is a long winded way to say i think there is a quiet beauty even in sorrow and grief. you just have to look for it.#hmm. anywayss#i know i said i was gonna draw more horror stuff. but i kept trying and none of it was coming out how i envisioned it.#bleugh. oh well. i suppose it's just as fun to draw flowers as it is to draw blood. :×#submas emmet#submas ingo#<- kinda. i mean that is his coat.#emmet#ingo#my art#🐌 slow pieces#tw implied death#<- also just in case
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You belong to me
Summary: reader is a female police officer that began to have a friendship with someone who got sent to help with a case. But things took a dark turn…
Warning: Manipulation. Kidnapping. Stalking. Gaslighting. Stockholm syndrome. Power dynamic. Power abuse. Emotional abuse and distress. Guilt-tripping. Isolation. Emotional blackmail. SMUT. Creampie. Handjob. Blowjob. Oral (m receiving). Reader is toxic. Leon is a victim. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.
Word Count: 4,193
A/N: since it’s October, I wanted to try something different. We’ve all seen the fics where Leon is the toxic one but what about the reader? This is my attempt at toxic reader.
“My honey I know, with the dawn that you will be gone. But tonight, you belong to me,” - Tonight You Belong To Me, Patience and Prudence
When you were young, you looked up to the heroes of the world. The police, the firefighters, etc. It all fascinated you and you found it in yourself to want to help others as well. It was all an innocent dream that started when you were just a little girl and now here you are, working as a police officer in the city’s infamous police department.
People come and go, new faces everyday. It’s filling out paperwork and writing reports about incidents you’ve been called to. Sure, you’ve had your share of the donut and early coffee rounds, but nothing beats cruising in the patrol car.
You’ve never been an obsessed type of person, you just took a really good liking to things. Video games, music, books–they were all just common interests. But something about your job was so exciting. It wasn’t just helping people, it was the necessity to feel the rush flow through your blood through car chases or when you venture into a building with your flashlight out searching for criminals. At the end of the day, it felt amazing capturing the bad guys and throwing them in a cell.
It was a normal day, nothing too out of the ordinary. You were called to a crime scene in a neighborhood in the middle of your night shift. You were the first of your squad to arrive and there you saw an unfamiliar man. He wasn’t a police officer but he seemed like the real deal.
“Ah, Officer L/N,” said the police commander as he motioned for you to come forward, “Let me introduce you to this guy. He’s done nothing but save the country countless times. Meet Agent Kennedy, he will be assisting us tonight.” Agent Kennedy was tall with blonde hair and blue eyes. Skin pale with a few freckles adorning his face.
Agent Kennedy nods and extends his hand to you for a handshake, “Nice to meet you, I hope we can work with no issues.” You nodded and took his hand in return for a firm handshake before letting go, “Pleasure to meet you as well.”
“So,” Agent Kennedy said as he looked over at your boss, “What’s the situation here?” The police commander then began to walk inside towards the house you had parked on the side to, “There’s been a suspicious call to the precinct,” he said as you and Agent Kennedy followed him inside, with Agent Kennedy letting you enter first.
“Lady down the street said that there was yelling and she called to make a noise complaint but then she said it all got quiet so she decided to check on the people who lived here,” he said as he walked the two of you to the living room. Upon reaching the living room, the floor’s carpet was drenched in blood and the walls had blood spatters around them. You grimaced at the sight but Agent Kennedy simply narrowed his eyes, his blue eyes jumping from blood spatter to blood spatter around the room, “Any clue about the victim?” Kennedy asked.
“Female. Early thirsties,” the police commander began to describe, “5 foot 5–the other neighbors said that she was a sweet lady but that her boyfriend wasn’t much of a gentleman. When we first came to check, the body was missing and there was no weapon on sight. It was as if someone had murdered her and took her body with them. We tried contacting the boyfriend but he’s been MIA for a while now.”
Your eyes wandered around the room, how could anyone do this? Sure, there is no certain proof that the woman’s boyfriend could’ve done it but it was a lead right?
“What about the boyfriend’s records?” You asked, “If his record states suspicious activity or other charges, then we’d know by then, right?”
“No,” Agent Kennedy replied right before your boss could, “This doesn’t seem like something a felon would do. Usually felons who are trying to save face try to avoid getting in trouble with the law. This is something completely unrelated to the victim’s relationship.”
“Then what could’ve caused this?” the police commander asked. Kennedy kneeled on the ground, his eyes inspecting the bloody carpet, “An amateur. This is probably just the work of someone trying to prove that they can kill.” Kennedy stood back up again and looked at your boss, “I’ll have a few of my men search the house, there’s been other cases like this that we have previously looked at and I think this is just another one of those.”
You furrowed your brows, “So you’ve dealt with this killer before?” you asked, to which he nodded, “Yes. But I can’t say anything. It’s a government case.”
It was a long night but thanks to Agent Kennedy, he made it run smoother than you had anticipated.
Agent Kennedy…
What a guy.
-
For the days that followed through, balancing minor incidents and the big case on your plate, you’ve met with Kennedy more than a few times. It was as if it was a coincidence. You saw him at a bar, in the police station, in the store–quite the few times. But you were polite in each encounter. You smiled, you waved, you even initiated conversations with him. And he was kind to you in return.
You were happy, life was great.
You’ve even stopped him several times when you saw him on the road.
“Hey, just a reminder to turn on your lights,” you’d say as you’d lean against his car door.
“Make sure your license plate gets renewed, you’re lucky I’m a nice officer,” you’d say with a friendly smile.
Or sometimes you would meet in your office for the case and talk.
“You know, you’re lucky I’ve been just giving you warnings on the road,” you said as you sat on your desk with him sitting across from you. He smirks and shakes his head, “It’s like you’re always there. Are you secretly following me?”
You laughed and it was your turn to shake your head in denial, “I’m too busy to follow you around. Plus, what’s the harm if I did? I’ve been helping you avoid a ticket, haven’t I?”
He nods and laughs, “Yeah, I guess you’ve kind of been like a friendly officer.”
“I’m for the people,” you said as you laughed with him, “I try to help as much as I can. I’m not a saint, but people can do good, right?”
“Yeah… they can,” he muttered and leaned back against the chair he was sitting in, “No but seriously, I’ve been seeing you around more often than lately. I’m not saying it’s weird, I appreciate you giving me tips and warnings but–I mean, is it even allowed?”
You laughed again, “It’s a small town, Leon,” you said, “I’m busy everywhere and plus, no one has to know. There are millions of things happening at once in this place. Me not giving you a speeding ticket is nothing worth mentioning.”
Everything seemed to be going well for you. You’ve grown closer to Leon ever since you started that case. Sure, you’ve seen him more frequently but it was pure coincidence, right?
-
Leon was sure something was going on. He’s been seeing you more frequently and you stopped him at random times. He’s grateful you haven’t given him a ticket but he can’t help the growing suspicion that you’ve done this so frequently. His worries only grew after that day in your office.
He was never a man to take things lightly. He’s always thought things through and was a smart and confident man. At some point he began to feel guilty because he could see just how hard you work around the station. You’ve taken shifts but you always kept a smile on your face, it made him feel shitty for thinking so poorly of you.
You were sweet and kind, always wanting to help people just like him.
But there was just something in his gut telling him to watch out.
“Y/n,” he said in surprise when he found you next to his car. You turned and smiled at him, “Hey, Leon. Haven’t seen you in a while, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He forced a smile and nodded, “Yeah, I-uh-I’m fine. Just been busy with the case. Jane Doe, you know?”
“Jane Doe,” you repeated quietly. There was a silence between you two, one that he didn’t know if it was suffocating or intimate. He’s never been good with the ladies after all.
“You know,” you said softly, “I’m here if you ever need to talk. I’m the only one who can really understand you. I’ve seen things no one should see. I’ve been through hell and back before and I know how it feels like to be stuck in this dark place,” you said as you pointed to your head.
His face fell and he stared at you in silence.
“Therapy doesn’t work. I know everyone says that but when has therapy ever worked for you? You have this distant gaze, Leon,” you whispered as you took steps forward towards him, “I’m the only one that can see the pain you feel everyday.”
He furrowed his brow, “Why are you saying this?” he whispered. You smiled, “Because I want to help. I’m your friend.”
-
The words were glued to his mind and now he felt more uneasy but something in your words spoke out to him. He’s never really had the chance to heal, not after Raccoon City. But he’d never say that your words were doing things to his mind. You showed kindness no one ever has, you spoke to him in a caring voice, and you were never his enemy.
He’s never seen someone so… friendly. At some point he found you too friendly but then he’d feel guilty for thinking that stuff about you.
He shouldn’t have been paranoid of you, your eyes and your smile were ones of an angel.
Leon doesn’t have a family and he’s never had a real friend before. Something in him felt warm and odd.
“I’m your only friend here, Leon,” you said as the two of you sat on a bench just right outside the front of the police station, “No one ever listens and if they do, they’re lying. When someone says they care, they don’t. They have to show you that they care like I have. I care about you, I really do. You don’t need those fake friends, you’ll be okay with me. Small circle beats a bigger
circle in terms of a social life, right?”
He nodded, taking your words into consideration, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Lots of people lie nowadays. Can’t ever tell who’s going to stab me in the back.”
“Exactly,” you continued, “Why stress about someone’s loyalty when you have someone that already has proved it. Remember that time I didn’t give you a ticket for speeding or having alcohol in your vehicle? I’m a real friend, Leon. There’s no one else that understands you like I do.”
“Well, I do have some other friends,” he muttered, “they’ve been through the same things I’ve been.”
You scoffed and shook your head, “You’re going to listen to your friends who barely care, over me? I’m the one who has your best interests in mind, Leon.”
“I’m not saying that to make you any less of a friend but you’ve got to admit that you stop me too many times on the road,” he said. You rolled your eyes and looked at him, “You know you’re being paranoid, right? I’ve done nothing but help you, and you’re trying to say I’m some kind of creep. I’m the only one who’s been there for you. You should trust me more than anyone else. Nobody else cares as much as I do.”
He felt bad and guilty for making you think he thought you were a creep. He frowned and looked at you, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you look like a weirdo, I’m just… I haven’t had a real friend in a long time. Probably since high school and that was years ago.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you sighed softly, your expression turning soft and caring with a small smile tugging your lips, “I understand you were just being cautious and I can’t blame you for that. But don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I care about you and I want to help.”
-
Leon suddenly found himself in a dark room. He blinked his eyes open and saw that he was in a dimly lit room. He tried to move but his hands were tied. Leon was tied down to a chair, his hands behind the back of the chair tied together with rope, as well as his legs tied down on the legs of the chair. Panic surged through him. The room was cold and silent, eerily silent. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his breathing.
He tried to shift around but then his eyes landed on the walls of the room. He furrowed his brow, what the hell was going on? “What the..” he muttered under his breath and then he turned his attention towards the sounds of footsteps descending a pair of stairs. Now he understood he was in a basement.
“Hello,” calmly rang the voice of a woman. Chills ran down Leon’s spine as you stepped closer, making your figure known to him. Why were you here?
“Y/n, you’ve got to help me,” Leon as he tugged at his tied wrists, “I don’t know how I ended up here. Come on, help me–” he grunted as he struggled. But you remained stilled in front of him. Your eyes watching as your calm demeanor took over.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” you said casually. He looked up at him, confusion written on his face, “Can’t help me?” he repeated in disbelief, “Why not?”
“Because I’m the one who did this to you,” you replied. There was no remorse in your tone. YOu were casual and cool, something that made Leon’s skin crawl with goosebumps. He’d never have guessed that you would be the one to ever put him in this situation.
“You see, Leon,” you began as you walked around him, circling him around, “I’m the only you can rely on. You don’t need those other people. They don’t know you like I do. I was only trying to help.”
“Help?” He repeated incredulously, “You tied me to a chair! How is that helping?!”
“Don’t be like that,” you said as you walked back to stand in front of him, leaning down to his face, “You should be grateful, after everything I’ve done for you, shouldn’t you be thanking me? You’re making me feel bad Leon.”
He frowned, his heart aching at your words, “I am grateful for your friendship but I just–”
“Just what, Leon?” you interjected, “Come on, now, don’t be like that,” you continued as you brought a hand to his cheek, gently caressing his face, “You know I’m the only one who’s ever listened to you. I know how damaged you are and I’m the only one who’s accepted you as you are. Look at your so-called friends, they haven’t talked to you. They’re not like me, they don’t care about you like I do.”
He looked up at you with those saddened blue eyes, his head subconsciously leaning into your hand, “But you said you wouldn’t hurt me,” he whispered.
Your thumb swiped along his cheek in a soft caress, “I haven’t, have I?” you whispered back, “I would never hurt you, you know that. It hurts me that you’re doubting me.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered back immediately, “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I'm just… confused.”
“It’s okay to be confused but you have to trust me. I’ll never hurt you,” you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips feeling soft on his skin like a soothing balm. But this only made him more confused. He should be angry and attempting to escape but he couldn’t, he didn’t want to betray you like that after all you’ve done for him. He shouldn’t, right?
He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning into your hand as if he was seeking your comfort. You smiled at his behavior, “Look at you,” you murmured, “You’re so deprived of love, aren’t you?” you asked mockingly, to which he nodded. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, “I am…” he whispered, “No one’s treated me as kindly as you have. I… I don’t have anyone besides you.”
“You don’t have to, I’m the only one you need, Leon,” you whispered as you leaned your lips down his face, just right above his lips, “I promise I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me.”
“I promise,” he replied almost instantly, “I won’t leave you. Please…” he begged, craning his head up as if trying to meet your lips. He was desperate for a touch of affection and you were willing to give him that, he wasn’t about to let go of you in the end.
“Please what?” you whispered.
“Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.”
“Can you kiss me?”
“I can.”
You pressed your lips against his in a short kiss, causing him to whine and lean forward to keep kissing you, “Y/n, please,” he begged again. You smirked and leaned down to kiss him again, this time longer and more passionate. He closed his eyes and sighed into the kiss as your hands raked around his hair, tugging at his blonde strands. Your tongue grazed his bottom lip, to which he let you explore his mouth with.
He was so easy, all he needed was a little bit of love and he was down at your knees for you.
Your hand moved down his chest to his pants. Your palm ghosting over his crotch, you pressed your hand over it. He hissed and moaned, his body going tense before you began to rub him through the fabric of his jeans, “Y/n,” he whined again.
“You want me to touch your dick? Make you cum?” you murmured mockingly, he nodded his head and jerked his hips up into your hand, “Please,” he whispered.
You stood by his side, hand going inside his pants until you felt his boxers. He felt hard and long, almost making you wet. Your hand didn’t stop rubbing him through his boxers, his needy whines and moans echoing through the basement. Then, he attached his lips to your boob over your shirt, his teeth nibbling around the fabric of your shirt.
“Want to suck my tit like a baby?” you mused, he nodded and looked up at you through his lashes, “Yes,” he whispered. And how could you deny him anything when he’s been nothing but a good and obedient boy?
With your free hand, you lifted your shirt and took off your bra, watching as his pupils dilated and immediately latched his lips on your breast. His teeth pulled at your nipple before his tongue flatly dragged over your stiff peak. Your hand on his boxers moved over inside, feeling the skin of his dick on your hands. You pulled it out of his pants and circled your hand around his cock, rubbing up and down from the tip to the base. He moaned against your breasts, the vibrations sending a wave of arousal through you.
He kissed and licked all he could, his lips becoming swollen and your boob glistening with his saliva. God, he could suck your tit all day if you asked him. His moans became short and breathy the more you stroked him, his cock spasmed and twitched as he felt himself near his orgasm and without further notice, you suddenly dropped down to your knees and put his cock in your mouth. He gasped and threw his head back, his lips parting as he moaned every time you bobbed down on his dick. He bucked his hips further into your mouth while your hands massaged his balls, drawing an embarrassing moan from his throat.
Soon enough he came into your mouth, his sweet cum shooting ropes. But you didn’t swallow. Instead, you stood up, hands going to his jaw as you forced his mouth to open. You spat his cum into his mouth and forced him to close his lips.
“Swallow,” you commanded him. He nodded and swallowed the cum you gave him, he was left panting as he looked up at you.
“Good boy,” you purred and kissed his lips and he instantly kissed you back–tasting him on your lips.
“Let’s take these off you, hm?” you said as tugged at the rope around his wrists. He nodded and let you untie him. It’s not like he can escape anyway, where would he go? No one would believe that you, the kind officer, would ever kidnap anyone. And he’s desperate for love and attention, he can’t leave if he wanted because he wouldn’t have anyone to compensate for the lack of love he’s received. He became dependent on you.
As soon as you untied him, he grasped your waist and brought you between his legs, pressing his face on your stomach as he kissed the skin on your belly. You caressed his hair, allowing him to touch and worship you as he wanted.
“You want more?” you asked softly and he nodded against your stomach, “I do,” he whispered.
“Come on then,” you said as you took his hands and pulled him from the chair, “Let’s go to my room. My home is your home now.”
-
It was indeed his home now. He hadn’t noticed but you have, the way he started to leave his things in your house such as clothes and shoes. It was a small change but he slowly began to move in with you. It was such a power trip dynamic that you loved, having this power over him. He can’t ever leave you, where would he go?
Your obsession with him was successful. This was all you wanted from the start. You’ve had eyes for him ever since he got assigned to help you and your team on a murder case.
And now he’s on your bed, naked and thrusting into you from behind as you bent over with your ass in the air. His hands on your hips as he was on his knees behind you on the bed. Your hands held the bed’s headboard, feeling it slam against the wall everytime he plunged deep into you from behind. His cock leaving and entering with force, as if trying to prove his loyalty to you. He was like a dog, in a way. The tip of his cock grazed your cervix, causing your eyes to roll back and a moan to slip past your lips. He groaned and whimpered, feeling his cock get swallowed by your tightening walls.
“Y/n,” he whined as his hands moved to your waist, gripping your body tighter, forcing your body on his cock. Pushing and pulling you as his hips did the same, the sound of skin slapping echoing loudly around the room.
“Fuck–” he cursed under his breath, “You’re so tight. I’m gonna–”
“Don’t stop,” you moaned, moving your body on him to help him. He leaned down to bury his face on your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses on your skin as his chest pressed against your back. His hand released your waist to squeeze at your bouncing breasts, “Pretty,” he murmured into your ear as he squeezed your tits again.
His thrusts became sloppy as you neared your organism, he could feel the way your pussy began to throb and it was sending him on a frenzy. When your sweet nectar came around his cock, coating him wet and making sinful squelching sounds, he couldn’t hold himself back and he slammed his hips against your ass and came deep inside you. His dick throbbed as he shot his rope of white cum inside your pussy.
His cock softened but he didn’t move, both you were left panting and trying to catch your breath. Your bodies sweaty as the room smelled of sex. When he pulled out of you, you brought your hand down to your cunt to collect his cum and put it back inside, he groaned at the sight that he just watched and he couldn’t believe he just came inside you.
“Aren’t you going to clean me up?” you asked and he got snapped out of his thoughts. He quickly nodded and got off the bed, “Yes–hold on.”
He went into the bathroom and got a wet towel, then he came back into the room and cleaned you of his cum. After discarding the towel, he joined you on the bed and cuddled you.
“I love you,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest. You smiled and huddled into his chest, “I love you more.”
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon scott kennedy#resident evil#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#re4 leon#id leon kennedy#re2 leon#leon smut#re leon#resident evil leon#leon#leon kennedy smut#di leon#re4r leon#re2r leon#re6 leon#death island leon#dead dove do not eat#did i tag this right?
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Lover, Leader, Liar [Savior, Sinner] - (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)
2.4k words | pining, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, the arklay incident, flashbacks, s.t.a.r.s era | Fic Directory
when wesker makes a promise, he keeps it. even if it hurts.
The clock was quite literally ticking. Every second wasted was a second closer to the inevitable blast. But there was a… variable that he hadn’t considered. A scream, a stumble in the room above just barely loud enough to hear over the sharp bang of each discharged round. If it were anyone else…
But it isn’t, so he bolts. Shoves through body after body, practically leaping halfway up the stairs. His boots fall quick and heavy and the door separating him from you is no match. He rams into it and breaks it clean off the hinges, and there he finds a sickening scene.
That lumbering beast is upon you, trapping you in the corner of the room while you tremble and shake, clambering back until you’ve nowhere else to go. The slide of your gun is locked open. You’d spent your entire magazine on her, surely. Poor thing. Of course you wouldn’t know.
Your eyes flicker to him, blown wide with raw terror. You’d been afraid since the moment Alpha Team touched down in the woods, though you'd tried your best to hide it. The last time he saw you, Wesker had to rest a hand on your shoulder and reassure you that everything would be okay. No one else would die. You wouldn’t die. Not under his command. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Such is the promise he’s chosen to keep.
He draws his gun at lightning speed and unloads three rounds into Lisa Trevor’s back. She stumbles toward you but whirls around to face her assailant. Damn thing had been stalking him since he rose from the dead, so what was a little more time to tango? Lisa wails at him, lumbering forward, which gives you enough time to crawl under a desk and run to him. He’s almost resentful that you can’t quite match the pace of his sprint, but, so long as your hand is in his, you will not perish to that creature.
Your frantic breaths and the warmth of your touch are his purpose as he mows down beast after beast. Hunters, dogs, zombies… it makes no difference. The two of you must be out of here before time runs out. There’s no time for your blubbering about the blood splattered all over his body from the wound that no longer exists. There’s no time for your sputtering when he shoves another gun in your hands, nor any for your hesitation when Lisa reappears and blocks your exit.
He fights tooth and nail. When that chandelier comes down, impaling and trapping her, Wesker hoists you onto his back and takes off as fast as he can. It would not do to have you running after him. Even hand in hand, you wouldn’t be able to make it far enough with what little time remains. But now, with his new abilities, you’re no more than a mere feather. Not even the death grip you hold around his shoulders phases him.
You whimper at the deafening boom. He lowers you behind a thick tree and huddles close, pressing you against the trunk, taking cover against the shockwave that pulses through the forest.
“C-Captain…”
He finds you staring, tears rimming your eyes. Could be any number of reasons you were on the brink of crying. He’d wager it was, well… everything. From finding Bravo Team’s bodies to your first encounter with the living dead, to nearly having your skull shattered by Lisa’s devastating strength, all the way to outrunning enough explosives to leave a crater in place of the mansion. Your lower lip trembles.
The sight of you calls him back to the night before this whole debacle began. You’d brought him coffee and dinner from the beat up diner down the road. You mentioned how nervous you were to find out who the perpetrators were of the string of murders plaguing the area. It wasn’t uncommon for you to visit his office. In fact, your relationship had been inching further and further away from purely professional and more toward… well, whatever it was going to be. Part of him always wanted to cave to those feelings brewing in his chest, but he knew better. Or, at least, he thought he did. Truth be told, your odds of surviving the manor had been slim to none and he was going into the situation nearly certain no one would make it out. He’d been incredibly tempted to fire you just to keep you alive… Words could never describe the regret he felt when the day came that it was too late.
But, then again, you could be like this because you knew that he was in on it.
Cold, shaking hands land on his forearms. “Captain… your eyes…” You whisper shakily. Not what he was expecting. A nice right hook would’ve made more sense than the way you pat him down, searching for injuries. He all but fully flinches when your fingertips graze his exposed abdomen.
“That’s not necessary,” Wesker says, pushing your hands away.
He grazes your fingers with his. A big stack of paperwork filled out perfectly, just the way he’d asked. “Thank you,” he hums. Pink tinges your cheeks and a smile settles right in. You feel it too, then?
“W-Were you hurt?”
Softness drapes over his shoulders. He’s barely conscious, far too exhausted from his two-day stint without sleep to open his eyes. There’s a soft clicking noise and the high pitched, barely-there buzz of the computer monitor ceases. He knows it’s you. Only you would do this. Only you would take care of him this way…
“I was.” He says, turning, still hand in hand with you, to walk away. “Best not to waste any more time.” Every three-letter agency in the world would be finding its way to the scene in no time. Moreover, with the rest of Alpha-Team knowing of his involvement, said agencies would be beating down the door to his home within the day. There was little to gather, but he certainly needed to stop there before disappearing. “Come.”
It took many miles on foot before stumbling upon a residence with a perfectly procurable vehicle, and the drive back to Raccoon City had been tense. You were still on edge, obviously. It’s when he leads you to sit on the edge of his bed– he can’t let you out of his sight– as he gathers documents and necessities that you finally lean forward, hand over your eyes, and bite back your weak cries.
“D-Did you really… You knew?” You sputter. “You knew, and you just let us walk in there?”
Wesker holds your gaze as he strips his ruined vest, uniform button-up, and undershirt away. Can’t sport the S.T.A.R.S logo anymore. Not that he even wanted to. “Yes.” He says, tugging a black sweater over his head. He expected you to run. He’s unsure why you haven’t tried. At first he thought it was shock. Perhaps you had been too shaken to consider it an option, but you’d calmed significantly during the drive and now…?
“You don’t have to stay late.” He tells you, standing halfway in the doorway to his office. Everyone else went home hours ago.
“I know,” you say, looking up at him from your screen. “I want to.”
He catches sight of his eyes in the mirror mounted beside his closet door. Ocular mutations weren’t uncommon, but it would be one that he must hide from time to time. Suppose, though, that it was simply solved with a new pair of sunglasses.
Wesker snags the duffel bag he’d prepared before the mission.
“– why did you save me?” He’d been tuning out your sorrowful rantings, but there could be no ignoring the weak sob that preceded such a difficult question. Why indeed…
His doorbell rings, jarring him from his focused writings. He opens it to find you, tupperware container in hand, with your eyes practically sparkling.
“Hi– sorry! I was just coming back from the little birthday lunch we did for Jill and I–” You hold the container out for him. “I dunno, I just thought you’d maybe like some cake?”
He regards you with amusement for a moment. He’s only seen you in normal clothes a handful of times, usually if you were stopping into the precinct on your day off, but it never failed to tickle some small, cold part of his heart. In turn, he knows this is the first time you’ve seen him out of uniform. He’s dressed down, sporting a sweater and jeans, signature glasses left elsewhere. He quite likes the way you try to hide your wandering eyes.
Wesker takes the container and gives you a soft, grateful smile. Part of him feels that he should invite you in and offer you something– coffee, perhaps. Engage in the rules of reciprocity drilled into his head with every etiquette class required in his schooling years.
“Would you like to come in?” The smile on your face is all he needs. “You’ve brought quite a large piece. I might need some help with it.”
“You could’ve left me there!” You’ve got him by the shirt now, wet eyes boring into his. “You brought us there to die, so why didn’t you leave me!?”
He clamps a palm over your mouth, spins, and presses you to the wall.
The chime to the flower shop signals his arrival. He towers over the old woman tending the plants as he explains to her his need.
“The most elaborate bouquet you can make for a grief-stricken recipient,” he says. “Price is no object.”
The moment he picked up that phone and you explained your need for time off through poorly suppressed sobs, he was already sure of where he’d be headed on his lunch break. Your parents, you’d said. A head on collision with a drunk driver. It was believed they died on impact, but such a mercy didn’t quell your sobs. Frankly, nothing could except for time’s power to numb the pain.
Wesker has no family to mourn. No parents, no siblings. As an orphaned boy in boarding school, he’d done his crying when the others would leave to spend the holidays with their family. He can’t quite fathom the grief you feel at losing your only family, but this? He can do this.
“What would you like the card signature to say?” Asks the old woman as she scribbles her notes.
He contemplates for a moment, weighing his options. But he knows, deep down, the best and worst possible options are one and the same.
“With love,” he recites. “Albert Wesker.”
“You have two choices,” he tells you. Wesker shows extra care to ensure the hand covering your mouth does nothing more than silence you. You need not suffer any more pain. “The first: I leave you behind. You answer questions for every agency under the sun and hole up in your apartment while you wake, alone and afraid, every night when your dreams bring you back there. Just to spend every day adrift in a city that, I assure you, is doomed for worse than the mansion.”
Your eyes widen at his prophecy, but it’s the truth. Birkin would be continuing operations in the area and, frankly, bad things come in threes. Between the manor and the train, more was bound to happen. You could choose to stay, or…
“Or you can come with me, where you need not be alone.”
You hugged him as if your life depended on it when he showed up at your door. The flowers had arrived earlier, delivered by the seller as instructed. The crickets sing their song as he holds you, right hand rubbing between your shoulders while you hide your face against his chest.
“Thank you, Captain.” You murmur into his shirt. You look destroyed. His heart lurches for you, practically desperate to burst from his chest and engulf you in whatever crevice within it craves you so badly.
“Albert is fine. We’re not at work.”
You invited him in. Showed him where you put the extravagant floral arrangement he’d sent. Eventually, minutes of conversation turned to hours, and hours turned to the sun tickling at his eyelids, rousing him from the upright position he’d slumbered in upon your couch. Your head rests on his blanket covered lap while you get your much needed sleep. All because you asked that he stay. You didn’t want to be alone.
“After everything we’ve been through, I won’t simply leave you alone.” Fresh tears brim in your eyes and he removes his palm, letting it trail down and rest against the side of your neck. “Come with me.” Wesker urges. “Let me keep you safe. Don’t go down with the others…”
The conflict in your eyes coupled with your lack of response devastates him more than you’d ever know. He turns, grabs his bag, and makes his way through the humid nighttime air to the car. He grips the wheel tight enough to crush indentations into it. He waits.
And waits.
And waits.
He should’ve known it was only a pipe dream. After what he’s done, there would be no going back to the old ways. No more cake and coffee in his kitchen, no more sheepish smiles as you hand in your work, no more… no more you.
“You’re afraid?” He asks, doing all he can to keep the remorse from seeping into his voice. He should’ve cut you loose last week like he planned. Now you’ll be walking into hell itself for the sake of data collection and it’s all his fault.
“I just…” You try, pursing your lips as you think of the words. “Bravo Team went missing out there. That’s not– S.T.A.R.S members just up and vanishing? I’m scared something really bad happened up there.”
He reaches across his desk, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No matter what happens, you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
He made his choice.
You made yours.
Wesker turns the key in the ignition and the engine sputters to life. He fiddles with the seat once more to make it less uncomfortable than it had been on the ride back from the mountains. In the rearview mirror, he can see the way his eyes glow. Cat-like pupils stare back and accuse him of failure. The tyrant, the restricted data, and–
The passenger door opens slowly. His breath catches in his throat. It’s like the whole world is moving in slow motion while you climb in and he can hardly believe his eyes. In fact, he rubs them just to make sure.
“If we’re doing this,” you say warily, “I need to pick up a few things from home…”
Wesker can’t control the smile that spreads across his face. Though he supposes now there’s no need. Not anymore.
Part two
#albert wesker#albert wesker x reader#albert wesker x you#wesker x reader#wesker x you#resident evil#dbd#dead by daylight#re wesker
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I just think the polite, well-behaved young man who secretly enjoys murdering people with his bare hands and gouging their eyes out and the blood-splattered god who delights in carnage and gleefully exploding people with his mind should, hand in unloveable hand, embrace their primal rage, become avatars of the slaughter together, and be deliriously happy for all of 2 seconds before one of them invariably kills the other. and it would be a real coin toss who dies first
#sorry for thinking romance isn't dead#arkayne#malevolent#arthur lester#kayne#the way kayne is 100% here for everything arthur is his whole deal and “that's what I love about you” in 40 I know he'd enable him#and arthur at their first meeting asking kayne for help not caring that hes a walking red flag surrounded by hundreds of headless corpses#looking guilty as hell like. he didn't care!! perhaps b/c kaynes so open and honest with it. all the other eldritch horrors#play mind games kayne is unapologetic he brags about his atrocities & tells arthur hes a malevolent entity before agreeing#to a deal with him in coda. hes always been honest with him. only time he lies outright is re: yellow and even then. its complicated
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i get such a sense of primal envy when looking at edwin’s clothes up close because god you can just tell his coat is real wool and made to last and not cheap flimsy mass produced garbage and auggagghhhh that was just STANDARD in his time. by no means am i saying i was #borninthewronggeneration because i like having vaccines and household appliances but. man. to have a personally-tailored coat like that that’d last for years and years……. and fabrics of fine thread-dense quality………. if only
#edwin would be so disgusted by shein products can you fucking imagine#i mean he’d be disgusted by most mass produced brand/off-brand clothing but fast fashion shit like that would be the Worst#thank god for the fact that I don’t think anyone in the group would wear that kinda shit. for wildly different reasons#crystal wouldn’t because why the fuck would she. she can afford the most expensive high quality shit on the market. and even if she goes#thrifting you can just tell if something looks/feels like cheap garbage she’d not even touch it#niko’s a fashion icon and constantly changing her outfits BUT she seems like the type who loves repurposing old clothing/re-arranging things#in her wardrobe and making different combinations rather than buying new clothes all the time and wasting perfectly good clothing#plus she wasn’t raised in America and likely did not get normalized to fast fashion#charles doesn’t because. well#you know.#ghost. and whatnot#even so I doubt his parents bought him clothes that often so he’d have to either save up the money to buy stuff he wants (probably thrifted)#or repurpose old clothes in various ways. his coat absolutely looks high quality and I bet he saved up like crazy for it#rambling#edwin#dead boy detectives#edwin payne
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As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in them turned to triumph. But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat; whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the heart. It was like a miracle; but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumble into dust and passed from our sight. I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there.
I don't know what's getting to me about this scene this time around, but I can't help imagining a cinematic beat in which Dracula, head cleaved from his shoulders, steel through his heart, looks to Jonathan. Fire-eyed, white-haired, triumphant against his personal nemesis and would-be keeper at last.
For just a moment, Dracula is whoever he was before he was an inhuman monster. A great man? A warlord? A hero or a horror in human flesh depending on the history. But a man again, whatever else. He looks at Jonathan.
Maybe he sees him.
Maybe he sees someone else. Some long ago youth who lived and died and was remade in profane immortality for the sake of supernatural strength, taught by ancient Powers beneath a distant mountain. A youth who would sell his soul to accomplish his goal.
As the sun sets red, Dracula sees that long-ago youth victorious but not yet damned--the man conquering the monster--and, for the first time in centuries, thinks he sees his reflection. The hunter, the warrior, the victor. How strange not to see him in armor. When did you change your sword? Ah, well.
You did it just the same. You did it...
(What was his name before all this? Memory is cracking, turning to powder in his mind. His name is...his name was...)
((No, no, old man. He is not you. You know. You know he is--he's--))
Voiceless, his lips move. Red a final time as his throat's foam bleeds up and out of the stained mouth.
Thank you, my friend.
There is time enough to smile before he crumbles away to sleep.
#on the one hand YES THE FUCKER IS DEAD#on the other hand goddamn it Bram why'd you have to make his last moment on Earth so damn soft#it's making me ponder things#jonathan harker#dracula#re: dracula#dracula daily
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[ cw: assumed death / assumed sibling death / assumed child death / solitude ]
Thinking about Leo being trapped in the Prison Dimension and keeping himself warm through the power of his own ninpo - this ability is shown to us as a flame, after all, so imagine if, when he lets his mystic energy run through him, it warms him up, just a little.
In this desolate place, all cold and alone, he focuses on that flame and leans into its warmth.
He relies on it, and he realizes it that he’d relied on it too much when it goes out, and he’s once again cold.
(In another dimension, the Hamatos believe they lost one of their own.)
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rottmnt headcanons#rise leo#assumed death /#assumed sibling death /#assumed child death /#he’s NOT dead but they don’t know that#anyway I think about Leo’s ninpo being the flame for everyone else’s to circle around a Lot#tbh I like to think that the turtles always had some innate mystic energy about them#even before they were mutated#I think they were chosen for a reason#If you look past the lens of a cartoon then they (especially Leo) were all more aware than most turtles usually are#imagine Leo always even from birth having that innate energy within him - a warm hearth that just makes him approachable#look at his baby self’s face cmon#anyway speaking of Leo and Warmth did you know that RES eggs that hatch at higher temperatures are born female I thought that was interesti-#sorry couldn’t resist but!! just sayinggg#he’s the one who prepares for cold temps and who actively tries to bask in a spa#my boy loves to be Warm#(because he was born warm-)#these tags are so much less serious than the post sorry guys
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♔ 𝔉𝔦𝔳𝔢 ♔
• A Dozen Roses • Fairy Tale AU •
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dead dove, incest, father/daughter incest, possessiveness, kissing, groping, thigh riding
Dawn does not break. A summer storm overtakes the early morning sky and overshadows the sun with pounding rain that comes down in sheets as lightning forks in the distance. Your chamber maids dress you warmly for even inside a chill is persisting along the stone corridors.
Your father is nowhere to be found. Off with his fellow knights on a hunt, waylaid by the weather. That’s what the stable hand tells you as he points out the empty stall where your father’s steed usually rests. You frown out across the wide terrace as the maids usher you back inside.
The day passes slowly, your ladies trying to distract you with music and sewing. One even whispers to you about the most recent gossip floating amongst the gentry. That your father has already chosen you a suitor— someone he was to announce after his hunt.
“Is this so?” You murmur quietly, eyes seeking the window and yet only seeing the storm.
She nods, threading her needle, “Yes, Princess. But tis only a rumor, just another tale to spread for those with too little responsibility.”
You smile at her, “I suppose that’s true enough.”
The talk turns to other things, letting you fall back into your thoughts. The book containing your mother’s story lies tucked against your side. Your grand plan of speaking to the King this morn dissipates like mist in the light. The day drags along and after supper, you visit her portrait hoping to glean more insight into this ghost.
Refreshing her wilted lilies, as you have countless times before, makes your heart race with longing. Magic is all well and good but it seems to only have a place for you in the shadows of your heritage. Gifting her a single red rose, you place the thorny stem in the middle of the lilies and take your leave. Your ladies-in-waiting walk with you back to your chambers, bowing and bidding you a goodnight as you part from them at the door.
Once you’re completely alone, you light a candle and read over the words and secrets left behind in the diary until they swim across the page. You hear loud movement coming from beyond the door, leading you to creep across the cold floor to press an ear to the wood. The deep voice of your father can be heard but you are unable to parse what is being spoken.
When you’re sure the hall is empty once more, you climb back into bed, hand reaching for the book you set aside. Eyes gaze unseeing upon the leather cover. The King has known everything all of this time and yet kept his distance. It hurts you. Makes you seek him out now regardless of the late hour, book in hand as you enter his rooms uninvited.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He’s seated in front of the fire, dressed down for the night in a simple tunic and breeches. His hair and clothing are soaked from the storm still raging outside. You suddenly realize you’re in your nightgown and how improper it was to walk through the castle in such undress as well as to be standing in the King’s antechamber.
“Tell you what?” He tilts his head, eyes dark and heavy as they drag down your immodest shift—fists clenching where they lay against his thigh, “tell my precious little princess she holds magic in her blood?”
“Yes,” your voice turns pleading, “why hide from me what is my right?”
He shakes his head, “Twould do no good,” standing, he walks over to you, water dripping from his hair to the straight line of his nose, “would you have had me toss you off to that forest witch to be raised?”
Chills race down your back as he brushes stray hairs away from your face, “You are my daughter, my property... my responsibility.”
“You never cared before,” words burst from your lips like overripe fruit. “You paid me no mind until this summer, Father.”
“Because you look like her,” he growls, eyes flashing in the low light, “you could be her.”
He grasps your upper arm and walks you over in front of the looking glass; his free hand reaches up to cup your chin roughly, forcing you to gaze at the mirror image. You clench your eyes shut and he chuckles, a low mean sound, against your back.
“Look, my naive daughter,” his calloused hands pinch into the skin of your jaw and you meet his eyes in the reflection, “you have given me a most precious gift— a second chance with my dear beloved.”
A gasp spills from your lips as the King lets go of your arm to cup your mound through your thin nightgown.
“Have you been good while I’ve been away, Princess?” He murmurs against your ear, fingers rubbing slowly against the heat gathering at the apex of your thighs.
“Yes, Father,” your brows pinch together, body leaning into his touch.
“Good girl,” his thumb rubs across your bottom lip.
That hot shivery feeling you sometimes get overtakes you, eyes darting to the King’s mouth. A yearning cavern opens in your chest, a hollow echo of loneliness making your lips part. It’s the same feeling that you had when he took it upon himself to confirm your purity, his mouth hot and wet upon your cunt.
“You should check, Father,” the damning words whispered as if that would soften the indecent request.
He presses his thumb past your lips, pushing against your tongue as you suckle the digit.
“I should,” he rumbles, gaze hot on your mouth as he turns your head to the side, “just to be sure your chastity is in place.”
A chaste kiss is dropped to your mouth, fleeting like the brush of a butterfly's wings. Whining, you tilt your head further, bodily asking for more. He presses another kiss against your lips, so different from Lord Winters. Your father claims your mouth for his own. He makes you sigh and gasp against his lips as he tastes you deeply, tongue stroking alongside your own.
Your legs nearly give out and he wraps his broad arms around you, holding you to his firm chest as he kisses you heatedly. Head fuzzy, you sink against him, letting the King kiss you senseless. Pulling away, he shushes your whining before tugging you to the armchair in front of the fireplace.
Once he is seated, he pulls you into his lap, indecently straddling one of his legs as your gown shifts leaving your bare cunt to rest on his trouser clad thigh. He pets your sides, a strange little smile hovering over his lips.
“I never thought I would have this again,” he murmurs, “come, kiss me again, my sweet daughter.”
You’re much too eager and uncouth, but he takes it in stride; slowing you down, guiding your lips and tongue until you’re moving in sync with him. It’s addicting, like eating sun warm strawberries from the garden. Forbidden but so so sweet. The juice sticky and syrup thick, filling your mouth with decadence.
His sword calloused hands grip your hips, guiding you into a rocking motion that makes you bleat and moan against his lips. A rare warm chuckle from him makes your mind buzz. You follow his motions until he’s able to squeeze and pet your hips as you rock against his thigh. The sharp bolts of pleasure make you leak until his trousers are soaked, sticking to the soft lips of your cunt.
“Want me to teach you?” He whispers hotly in your ear, “teach you all the ways to feel good, my precious princess.”
“Please, Father,” you mewl quietly, kissing him needily.
“I’ll show you,” he promises, voice dark as his eyes, hands grasping your gown to delve underneath, fingers skimming across your bare hips, “teach you like I did her—such gorgeous witches I’ve owned.”
Thoughts too hazy to pay attention, you sigh and gasp when his hands drift under your nightgown to grasp your breasts, squeezing the soft fat with a groan. The King’s mouth drifts along your neck, lips soft as he kisses the sensitive skin. Chills race down your body, your mind a haze of wanton need. He kisses your breasts through the nightgown as he pinches your nipples.
Whimpering at him, you tangle your fingers in his still damp hair. Your body is hurtling to that peak that whites out your thoughts, pleasure curling up like a sated cat in your stomach. The rough fabric of his trousers rub against your soft, wet heat as you rut back and forth on his thigh, making you moan softly.
“My sweet witch,” he pulls away to gaze up at you in satisfaction, “my beloved made whole again.”
Bringing your face closer, he kisses you far sweeter than before. This surprising show of tender affection brings you to your climax. Your voice stutters out, a broken cry lost in his wet kisses. The fire in the hearth roars to life like dragon’s breath as glasses on the mantle shatter only to land as glittering diamonds on the floor.
Your father chuckles warmly and it sends a frisson of heat pulsing at the apex of your thighs.
“Such a gift, my precious princess,” he brushes his thumb across your swollen bottom lip.
The expulsion of magic makes you tired. The King keeps you on his thigh, the rough material of his breeches bringing you to climax again and again as he kisses the moans from your mouth. Never pushing it further, he makes a promise to show you everything with each time you clench on nothing and cum on his lap.
It’s cock crow when you finally pull away from your father’s embrace. Lips and cunt swollen from his rough touch and yet your body and heart ache for more.
“I shall escort you to your room,” he helps you stand on trembling legs, wrapping one of his heavy riding cloaks around your body—his smoky scent surrounding you. “I’ll make sure you have the morning to yourself for resting.”
You hum, exhausted in more ways than one, and easily follow the King back to your room. As he tucks you into bed, you pout and grasp his shirt, seeking another kiss before you fall into slumber.
“Sleep well, beloved,” he murmurs, kissing your temple before pulling away.
Although you wouldn’t realize until too late, it’s the end of your old life.
#dead dove#king!leon s kennedy x princess!reader#king!leon#king!leon s kennedy#fem!reader#princess!reader#dark content#dont like dont read#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#fairy tale au#re au
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experimentation is forever and ever and emmet is guinea pig
#still working with colors. I need to eat a ball of light#MAGMA SAVE ME. SAVE ME PERSONAL MAGMA CANVAS#I find magma a lot less stressful to try stuff on tbh. it's probbaly because of how their brushes feel#I TECHNICALLY can somewhat emulate it in my main drawing program. but magma just has such a nice feel#anyways. shrug. I like emmet a loADUGHSADO TAGS CANCELLED I HGAVE THE HICCUPS. GOD HATES ME#GOD WANTS ME DEAD. THIS IS TRHE WORST. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT HTE FUCK MAN. STOP HICCUPING. STOPPPP#AOOAUAUUUAGUUAUHHUHUHAUUGUAHHUAUHHHGHHUHUGUUHAG#glances around. are you okay now. did you stop hiccuping.#OKAY I THINK WE"RE GOOD. thank god#spenxer lou art#submas#pokemon submas#submas emmet#subway boss emmet#subway master emmet#subway bosses#btw the main stuff I've been working now is color gradients and saturation in shading / the affect colored outlines have. shrug#basically I stared at bluebellowls art too long and got mad enough to give myself a stomach ache <- can't make this shit up#uhmm. rubs brain. ???? I don't know what else to say. I've been improving sooooooo much but my hunger is insatiable. me want more
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Sad boy hours :(
There's a whole headcannon/motif thing with Dracula I have going on in my head that'll never manifest in anything outside of this piece so I'm gonna yap about it here. I imagine Arthur always had flowers on or around him when Lucy was alive, be it pinned to his lapel, tucked in his hat band, or just stuffed in his pockets. When Lucy dies, he doesn't wear the flowers any more. He also probably grows some facial hair but I haven't figured out what that'll look like yet.
I remember reading somewhere that when Victorian men were in mourning, they'd wear a black band on their left arm. The thickness of the band depended on their relation to the deceased-- I don't remember the specifics, but I do remember that husbands wore the thickest band. I imagine Arthur wears a husband band, despite not actually marrying Lucy. Jack, Quincey, and Van Helsing would probably wear smaller bands, but they'd probably be larger than what was customary. I'm not sure how close Jonathan was with Lucy, but he's definitely at least wear a two-inch band out of solidarity for Mina regardless.
#dracula#dracula daily#re: dracula#arthur holmwood#lucy westenra#yes I did trace that coffin. what do you take me for? a good artist?#also there's a bit of symbolism about how the flowers in the urn are dead but the flower on the coffin is still alive or something idk#dracula fanart#sorry for turning this into a mini-lesson i'm a little bit mentally ill over victorian mourning customs
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darlin is a bigger person then me cause David would be dead after that confrontation audio, or i’d fake my suicide
#i re-listened to those audios#if you can’t tell#no cause like#he’d think i’m dead#or die#darlin not skipping town is amazing to me#redacted asmr#redacted audio#redacted#redactedverse#redacted darlin
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WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THEIR CANON INTERACTION WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT HOW STUPID THEY ARE
#i need you all to read this comic#re animator#evil dead#herbert west#ash williams#army of darkness vs re animator
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