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dragongirl642 · 1 month

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The eyes are the windows to the soul (part 4 - final)

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It's the final part!!!!

I know it's been a while but I've been working on lots of things at the moment.

Be warned, this is a long post, you may want to get some tea and a snack before you strap in for the ride.

Trigger Warnings: Body horror, gore, stalking, yandere (ish) behavior.

-----------------Start------------------

All goes still and, if not for the gash on their forehead leaking red and the blood drenching their clothes, Not-Cameron looks exactly as they did when they left you earlier today.

Except for their eyes. Glowing silver and devouring black, staring at you with an unreadable emotion.

You don't move. While your brain tries to process what your seeing, fear and a tinge of confusion keep you rooted to the spot.

Not-Cameron stares.

Heavy silence blankets the hallway.

Not-Cameron remains crouched beside the body of your now-dead ex-boyfriend. Pupils dilating and shrinking, dilating and shrinking. Hands digging streaks into the carpet.

They don't look like they're going to move any time soon, so you take the opportunity to focus on the shaking in your limbs and the pounding of your heart.

You take one deep breath, slowly in, slowly out. Followed by another. And then another.

You count to 10 in your head.

Your heart starts to become less noisy. Your hands slowly unclench. The shaking slows.

Waiting.

After what feels like an age, Not-Cameron suddenly shifts. A whine bubbles up from their throat.

"I just wanted...why? Was it too much to ask." Their voice suddenly drops and distorts, the sound vibrates right down your spine.

Not-Cameron twitches, one still slightly-clawed hand reaching forward as they crawl a step torwards you. "______" Your name comes out in a distorted growl. "I thought this would work."

Another step closer.

"So many failures. So many faces. Why!? Why was his the only face you wanted."

You can't help shuffling a little back down the hallway. Your body reacting with natural fear to the uncanny valley effect sweeping over you from how their blank expression contradicts the distorted distress in their voice.

"I just wanted to love you. Now it's ruined." They appear to be spiraling, their hands have definitely sprung claws again.

It is with herculean effort that you stop your shuffle backwards and instead lean forward, speaking in an even calm tone. "Not-Cameron."

They freeze.

"That's what i've been calling you in my head." You take a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to meet their predatory gaze with your own. "Since you first arrived, seven months ago. I knew you weren't Cameron."

A deep vibration begins to echo in the hallway, one you recognise as a growl. Not-Cameron's face begins to twist into a grimace.

"I didn't care."

The sound stops as their eyes widen, impossibly. You can visibly see all their muscles tense under their skin.

You slowly raise a hand, bracing against the wall to stand. Their gaze follows you up. "I..." You clear your throat, fighting the dull pain from the bruises you can feel. "I liked you more than Cameron."

You take one step forward. "I liked talking with you."

Another step. "I felt safer."

You're stood right in-front of them. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You lie!"

Your fight your body's urge to flinch when they suddenly stand. Their hands come up, the tips of their claws resting just besides your face.

"You. Are. Scared. Of. Me"

You keep your feet rooted to the spot. Focusing on the tears at the corner of their eyes to distract you from the fear bubbling behind your teeth.

A human trait, you think, to cry when overwhelmed rather than just for pain.

If the distortion in their voice is indicator enough to you that their emotional state is currently too much for them to handle.

A memory rises in your mind, unbidden. A memory of Not-Cameron comforting you when you were overwhelmed.

Not long after they arrived. Your mind was beginning to buckle under the stress and you would find yourself crying alone in the bathroom or stiffling a scream while in the middle of cooking. Eventually you found yourself crying along in your bedroom, bundled up beneath the covers, trying to muffle your sobs with a pillow. Not-Cameron found you like that, red-eyed and snotty-nosed.

They had silently sat with you, gently rubbing your back and talking about anything and everything until you calmed. They asked what you needed, ran you a bath, made you food. Reassurences and affirmations tumbled from their lips like water. They gave you space, asked before approaching you for anything, gave you anything you asked for.

Eventually, you started to feel like you wanted something certain to combat all the fear and uncertainty. So you asked for routine, for surety. And they provided. Slowly, you started to feel better. Started to feel less scared and uncertain. Started to feel safe.

Even slower than when you stood, you bring your hands up. "If I was scared." You wrap your hands around the back of their fingers. "Would I do this." You turn your head, gently manouevering their hands so you don't catch a claw to the eye and lean towards them, placing a gentle kiss to their palm.

You taste iron, internally cringing at the knowledge that his hands are still covered in the blood of Cameron. But the digust you feel at the wet sensation on your face cannot overshadow the relief you feel as their claws retract. You aren't dying today.

Tears are now freely flowing down Not-Cameron's face. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry." They choke out the words in between sobs, dropping to their knees and burying their face in your shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He hurt you. I'm sorry."

The distorted growl in their voice sends a jolt through you, but the broken choking sound that follows after dispells all your fear.

You bury your hands in their hair. "It's okay, sweetie. It's alright."

Not-Cameron lets out a broken whimpers at the pet-name. Turning their watery gaze up to yours. "I'm sorry. I lied to you."

They look completely normal now. If not for the blood and the mangled corpse lying not three feet away, you would have found this position suggestive.

Suddenly Not-Cameron pulls away.

"Oh no." Their hands hover over your shirt and sides, not quite touching. "I got blood on you. I'm sorry. I'll clean it. I'll clean it all."

Their distress tugs at your heart, and you drop to your knees. "Look, it's..." You sigh. Gently resting your hands on their shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on their collar bone. "I won't say it's okay. But I will say we can work this out...I think."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You physically jump at the sound of the smoke alarm.

"The cake," you whisper. A hysterical laugh bubbles up in your throat. "I forgot the cake."

Not-Cameron's bones audibly crack as they suddenly racket up to stand again. They gently push on your shoulders, directing you to turn. "I'll fix it."

Once you start walking towards the stairs, away from Cameron's corpse, a feeling of cold brushes over your shoulder. Suddenly, their image at the side suddenly seems to blur forward and you glance sideways to see no-one there.

The loud clatter of a pan on the worktop downstairs prompts you to quicken your pace. The smell of smoke and the grey haze in the air calls you to go faster.

The kitchen window is open. Not-Cameron is waving a tea-towel around to dispell the smoke. The charred remains of your cake sit in the pan on the side.

Another little laugh hiccups out of you. The domesticity of the sight jarrs against the shocking turn you just experienced upstairs.

You stagger forward. The cake is scrapped out into the food bin, and the pan deposited in the sink to soak. You take the opportunity to run your hands under the hot water. Scrubbing at the red staining your skin until the water runs thick with it.

Not-Cameron joins you, slowly siddling up to your side. Soap is dispensed and red foam swirls. After a few moments of harsh scrubbing your hands are looking cleaner than before, but you can't see it.

The red still fills your vision.

You keep scrubbing. Hands rubbing together again and again.

The warmth of Not-Cameron at your side is both a comfortable reminder of domestic normalcy and sets your teeth on edge.

The water runs clear but you still see red.

You grab the sponge. Drawing it over your skin like you want to scrub the flesh from bone. You think you hear something but all the sounds have gone muffled.

The image of Cameron's eyes staring at nothing in your mind, and yet somehow they glare at you accusingly in your memory. Scrub harder. Wash it away.

"_____ Stop!"

The sound of your name startles you and snaps your vision back into focus. Not-Cameron's face fills yours, concern evident in the turn of their lip and the frown pulling at their eyes. The sponge is ripped from your hands and something thick and viscous suddenly engulfs them. You go to look down but one of their hands suddenly catches your chin, stopping you from looking down.

"Look at me. Breathe." Their silver eyes hold your gaze captive. The squishy substance holding your hands hostage drags your arms up, pressing your palms to Not-Cameron's chest. Their heartbeat is steady...and strong, almost like it's beating right up against your palm.

Your mind zeros in on the steady thump-thump of their heart. Like the pitter-patter of rain, or the steady beat of footsteps on a cobbled road. The calming effect is powerful.

You take one shuddering breath after another.

"There you go, love. Breathe." Not-Cameron's voice surrounds you with its lilting, soothing undertones. A sound you had grown to like over the past seven months.

You feel the squishy substance coating your hands retract and change, until you feel the familiar weight of Not-Cameron's hand on the back of your palms.

"Come on. Come take a seat." Step by step. Beat by beat. They lead you through the doorway to the living room.

You're gently lowered to sit on the couch.

Your eyes zero in on the wet stain on the furthest cushion. Cameron's face starting to fade back into your consciousness.

There expression drops, glancing between you and the stain. A feral snarl rips through Not-Cameron as they fling the wet cushion away. Lowering themselves to kneel in the space left behind.

Their hands don't leave yours, thumb rubbing back and forth over the back of your left hand. The gentle pressure serves to keep you grounded; brings you back to the present.

"It's over. You're safe. Nothing else will happen to you, I promise."

The words combine with the pressure on your hand to form a powerful spell, banishing the images of blood and death to the back of your mind to be dealt with later in the quiet of night by your subconscious.

You only register the fact that you were shaking once it stops...and Not-Cameron releases your hand. Withdrawing just slightly, giving you space. They turn their body to sit in a more relaxed stance, staring blankly at the dark TV screen.

They hold out a cup to you, and you take it. You don't ask how they suddenly produce a full cup of your favourite drink from the empty space behind them; either they have more hands (or aproximate) than you know or they can levitate objects and you don't know which would be weirder and how much more weird you can handle right now.

"Thank you." You don't know if your whispered thanks are to thank them for helping you calm down, for the drink, or for stopping Cameron from suffocating you upstairs. A little bit of both you surmise.

The sound of a purr starts and then stops just as quick. Even though Not-Cameron has turned to the side, you can see their jaw shift as they clench their teeth. "I'm sorry. You need normal right now."

You almost jolt at how serious they sound.

"More normal than me."

You ponder those words.

The solid weight to them. The sadness. The regret. The bitter twinge of jealousy. The quiet easy-to-miss upward-lilt of a question.

Like coins, you count up your memories with them; the scary and unnerving are outweighed by the happy and comforting. But the most recent coin is tarnished and in need of polishing, before it can be added to the wallet and put away in your pocket.

"Upstairs. When you..." You trail off.

"Killed him." Not-Cameron finishes for you.

You take a sip to clear your throat before resting the cup on one thigh, wrapping your hands around the ceramic and focusing on the temperature to keep your grounded state. "Were you going to hurt me." The word "hurt" almost sticks in your throat.

Not-Cameron turns like they've been electrocuted. Their hands reach out for you but hover just short. "No. Never. Never hurt you." Their voice distorts again, a tinge of black creeping in around their eyes, but this time it doesn't fill you with a feeling of dread.

Their head bows forward, shoulders hunching inward. Shame overtaking their features. "I...I'm sorry. I thought if I scared you..." They blink rapidly. Hands shaking as they pull back. "I didn't want to..." It's their turn to take a steadying breath. "I don't want to lose you now."

"Okay. Listen to me." You put your drink on the coffee table and turn to Not-Cameron, shuffling closer until you knee almost touches theirs. You gently reach out for their shoulder, lightly brushing the flannel. "These past few months, have been like a dream. I've felt safe and happy and I finally know what it's like to love someone who loves me back just as much. But I have to know..."

Not-Cameron turns to face you again. The black has vanished from the whites of their eyes. Their posture is tense, like their set to run.

"...Why did you replace Cameron."

At your words they somehow tense up even more. Not-Cameron's gaze twists and for a split second you think they're gonna burst into tears again. But then suddenly their face relaxes, all expression dissapearing. "You didn't want anyone else."

"What do you mean?" You question.

"I tried. Before, I mean. I talked to you. Tried to get close." The skin of their face ripples and for a few seconds it's like a slideshow of multiple different faces appearing and dissapearing.

You even recognise some of them; a bus driver, a homeless man, a child who sat one table over at your local cafe who you spoke to for a while while they were waiting for their mother to come back from the shop next door, a guy who stood to give you their seat on the train.

They continue talking even as their face shifts. "So many faces. I learned so much. But every time I tried, I couldn't get closer. You didn't want any of them. You chose him." Their face settles back into the visage you've grown used to seeing over the past seven months. "So I used his face."

"What do you mean you tried?"

Their face changes again, until you're looking at the cute stranger you'd met in a bar three weeks before you started dating Cameron. They speak with a drawling twang, a voice you haven't heard in months. "Well, then beautiful. Could I buy you a drink."

Their face changes again, becoming the stranger who'd lent you an umbrella last year. Speaking in a higher smooth voice. "Take it. I'd feel bad if you caught a chill."

You'd forgotten about those encounters until right this moment. You remember the feeling of 'something's wrong' that had struck you during them.

Their face starts to change again and you snap. "Okay, stop!"

The shifting immediately settles back into Cameron's face.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You blindly reach out, searching. When you find their hand you feel them pull back slightly before accepting the hand hold. You focus on the warmth of their hand in yours and quickly pull up your memories of cuddling on the couch and movie nights with popcorn. Once the beating of your heart has settled to a steady rhythm again, you open your eyes, meeting Not-Cameron's blank gaze with your own. "So, you became Cameron."

They nod.

"But...what I don't understand is...how did you know everything he knew."

They pull their hand out of yours, sighing before they speak. "I needed to ea-needed to keep him alive until I knew everything." Their voice cracks slightly when they correct themself. Their hand comes up to lightly brush the edge of your neck. "But you were hurt because he got out. I was too complacent."

"So you were taking his memories."

Another nod.

"He...the body upstairs. Um...will you forget, or..."

"No. i'll remember...." a sincere expression suddenly floods over their face like a wave "...and I'll take care of it. I promise."

The air grows heavy as a silence falls over you.

You sense no hostility in them but you find the silence uncomfortable.

A promise has been obtained that the immediate problem of the dead body lying in your upstairs hallway is not going to be a problem bringing police to your door and leading to a lifetime in jail.

And yet, an uncertain future hangs over your head, and the urge to set something in stone burns in your chest.

"I want you to stay." / "I promise I...."

You speak at the same time.

Not-Cameron's mouth snaps shut mid-sentence at your words.

You wait to see if they'll finish their sentence, but they seem to have frozen again like they did upstairs.

So, you continue. "I mean. Everyone would be suspicious if Cameron stopped going to work and, the neighbours love you, and as I said before...I think I might have...maybe...I love you."

Their breath hitches at the word love, but you continue.

"And well...the real Cameron can't ever come back so, it would make sense for you to stay and I would appreciate it if you would keep pretending to be him and..." You trail off.

There's something heartbreaking about the crestfallen expression making it's way onto Not-Cameron's face. He twitches each time you say the name Cameron, even as he nods along in agreement.

You switch track. "What is your name?"

"What?" Not-Cameron jolts, expression wiped clean for a second and pupils dilating.

"i can't keep calling you Not-Cameron. I want to know your name." You speak slowly to ensure the emphasis is clear. Keeping their eyes locked with yours.

For a few seconds, their pupils grow and shrink rapidly, like a blinker light. After a moment, they settle again and expression returns to their face. Their expression is reminiscent of a soldier, stealing themselves to face the firing squad. "Alright, love." They shuffle in their seat before suddenly holding out their hand to you again.

You take it.

"My name...my real name...is Dieter." Their voice distorts midway, becoming deeper and husky, like tv static given voice. "It was given to me. To be my own."

You repeat it. Testing the feel and flavour of their name in your mouth. You decide you like it, and say it again.

A lovestruck grin begins to spread across Dieter's face. Their teeth are slightly sharper than normal and their pupils turn into literal hearts, which they quickly blink away.

You grab their cheeks, lightly pulling their face towards yours.

Dieter follows like a sunflower seeking light, willingly shifting forward to kneel on the couch. Arms braced either side of you to not fall forward and crush you beneath them.

"If we're gonna make this work. Don't hide that."

"Hide what?"

"The hearts, they're cute."

With a single blink, the hearts return. "Okay," they breath. "Need anything else."

You take a deep breath and let go of their face. Warmth burns the corners of your eyes and tears begin to spill.

Your body has finally begun to register the finality of it all. Relief and the backflow of your emotions are all spilling from your eyes.

A distressed expression flickers across Dieter's face as you shuffle yourself back, leaning into the cushions.

"I need a hug or I'm gonna cry. Please."

It's a lie. Well the part about needing a hug is true, but the tears were going to fall regardless of whether you recieve the physical comfort immediately or not.

Dieter complies without hesitation, regardless of the truth to your ultimatem. Immediately following you into the corner of the couch and wrapping their arms under you. They turn, lifting you and settling you on their lap with startling ease.

You cling to them like they'll dissapear any moment. Burying your face in the crook of their neck and fighting the urge to scream out your emotions.

One arm coils around your legs while the other wraps around your back. A large hand cradles the back of your head, gently massaging your skull in a soothing motion.

A familiar humming vibration starts and stops again.

"I like the...the purring...t...too." You barely choke out the words against their neck through your muted sobs.

The vibration starts up again. The purr could put any motorcyle engine to shame. The sound is damn near ethereal, like sitting in an echo chamber filled with singing bowls playing healing vibrations; a feeling like liquid gold seeps through your battered frame.

"I love you. I will make it right. I promise." Dieter's voice switches between the familiar tones of Cameron and the deeper pitch they've revealed to be their real voice, but both carry the same weight of adoration.

Exhaustion rears its head and your eyelids grow heavy.

"You can sleep, meine liebe. Everything will be fixed when you wake."

The sobs wracking your body begin to lose their edge as darkness creeps into the edge of your vision. Dieter shifts, their body somehow becoming softer. The pull of sleep becomes too powerful to fight.

You begin to drift, cradled in warmth and soothing vibration.

Your last thought before darkness envelops you fully surpises you. The spark of your subconscious is as brilliant as a star in the void of the dreaming abyss.

How wonderful it is to be loved.

----------------------- End------------------

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yuheartss · 5 months

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WHOS THAT GIRL?

IN WHICH — light finally makes a move on the girl he’s been stalking since high school

ʚɞ WC? 949 wordss

ʚɞ warnings! - stalking, hint of kidnapping, fem!reader, fluff-ish, unedited, lowercase intended!

ʚɞ a/n: I feel like I made him a little ooc but I hope not.. if I did please tell me! constructive criticism is welcome js don't b mean ⟢

In collage you were a bubbly person you had all the best fashions, best friends everything you could’ve ever wanted except one thing, a boyfriend, you told yourself that you didn’t need one you had to work on your fashion design major

You went to a small cafe to work on a dress sketch with your earbuds on you don’t notice a man coming up to you, he taps your shoulder and you look up at him “yes?” You ask “um can I sit here? All of the other tables are full” you look around and he was right it was full

“Yea sure” you said welcomingly the man smiles and sits with a cup of tea in hand “so what’s your name?” He says, hoping to start a conversation you look up from your sketchbook you give him another smile “y/n what about you?”

“Light” he says leaning back against his chair he looks at your sketch “are you in a fashion major or something? I can tell because of your unique style and your sketches” light finished, like he didn’t already know, you stare at him for a minute and laugh softly “your very observant Light,yea I’m in that major what about you?”

“I’m in criminal justice my father was a cop so I’m just following his footsteps” he said casually, looking into your eyes for any suspicions you might have “interesting…you don’t look like you’d be a cop more like a…scientist or something” you tilt you head as he chuckles

Your phone buzzed causing the both of you to look at the phone “hello?” You answered the keychain on your flip phone dangled as you leaned over to talk to your friend as you were doing this light took notice of your slicked back bun your curls covered in glitter hairspray, charms and hair clips near your ears

He knows you’ve been like this since high school you’ve Always been friendly you were popular and all but you never had any classes with light so of course you weren’t gonna remember him

Ryuk hoveres over Light his smile never falters what are you gonna do Light? Your not gonna stalk her are you? Ryuk teases looking over to you, still on call with who ever

“Very funny” Light says softly “i already know where she lives” Ryuk laughs as you turn back to Light “sorry about that something came up I gotta go it was nice meeting you Light” you say as you start to pack your things up

“Wait! Can- can I see you again?” He asks a little too desperately but that’s what girls like right? You blush a little and flip a page of your sketchbook and write your number down you rip the paper out and give it to him before speed walking out

He watches you go and looks at the note :

xxx-xxx-xxxx call me! ♡

He smiled at this and left the cafe as light walked out the street he couldn’t help but start thinking about if you r always like that or do you fake a face or the public he just couldn’t help but think about you about what makes you tic your fears everything

So two months later you guys have been hanging out and then light calls you, he asks if you want to take a walk in a park and of course you agree, you put on your best outfit ever cheetah print leg warmers here bows with similar patters over there

And of course you being the only person of color with bright colors on, it made you stand out quite a lot you got stares from girls and boys, men and women, dogs even! it made you slightly uncomfortable as you noticed this one man who kept following you ever since you got off the bus

You brushed that aside once you saw Light in the distance you called his name and he looked over to you with a smile you caught up to him and held his arm “sorry about this” you muttered as you leaned you head on his arm

Thinking that this’ll throw the man off and he’ll leave to which he did leave after a while of walking and that’s when you let go of Light “sorry some guy was following me and I wanted to shake him off” you explained as he nodded “yea I kinda figured that’s what you were doing it’s no problem” he replied deciding to be bold and take your hand

You bit your lip softly to stop the expression that your blushing to appear “soo where are we going?” You ask as you both go deeper into the park “you’ll see..” was all he said when you both got onto the center of the park he had shown you a lit up little area fairy lights, the water fountain reflecting those light’s making the water light up, flower bushes all around

“Oh wow..” you said softly placing your well-manicured hand over you mouth “like it?” He asked with a smirk watching your every move “yeah.. are you finna propose or something?” You questioned him eyeing him suspiciously

He chuckles “no no nothing like that, I was gonna ask if you wanted to be my girlfriend” you pause for a moment he was so casual about it you almost missed the question, you practically jumped on him screaming a yes he returned your hug smiling but what you couldn’t see was the dark look in his eyes

Next thing you know, your on tv you watch as the reporter says that you’ve been missing for three months she finally asks? who’s that girl?

#death note #light yagami #light yagami x reader #light yagami x you #poc reader #black!reader #tw stalking #tw mentions of kidnapping #kinda fluff #agejo gyaru #agejo!reader #gyaru reader #naowrites໑⃝

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upmala · 7 months

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iridescent headphone mod!

i own an inappropriately popular pair of headphones. today i saw two people on the metro wearing them, standing right next to each other with the classic metro 1000 yard stare, like unwitting clones, and i was instantly compelled to do something to mine.

unnecessarily detailed step-by-step below:

tools & materials: stupid clone-ass headphones, cutting mat, baking paper, scalpel, scissors, cd marker, some boring paper tape and some exciting iridescent mirror tape.

so the idea was to make a "sticker" out of the tape, laying it out in strips and cutting out a shape to then transfer to the headphone ear cup.

to make it easier to cut out the shape i wanted, i used waxy baking paper - the tape would kinda stick to it, but wouldn't fight back if i tried to remove it.

this tape is extremely thin. any speck of dirt or bubble or overlap between the strips of tape was very apparent, so i laid the strips out so that the edges touch, but don't overlap.

then i needed to mark how big i could make the sticker. the tape is not flexible at all, so i couldn't put it on any of the curves and soft edges of the headphones (otherwise they would have long been taped over entirely.) but the top of the ear cup was perfectly flat and circular, so i found the nearest item with the same-ish diameter and transferred the size that way. (i don't own a compass.)

after a bit of pinterest surfing that definitely didn't turn into a prolonged break involving tea and a mindlessly assembled sandwich, i sketched the moon's face from reference and cut out the shape with a scalpel. thankfully the vintage illustrations are not polished and perfect, so i can go a bit sketchy and loose (also the cd marker will wear off eventually, so i'm not too attached to the drawing)

since the "sticker" is actually just three separate strips of tape, i added paper tape "stitches" on top to hold them together once the baking paper comes off. it took a bit of finagling, but the baking paper came off smoothly and none of the tape bits were fighting me.

i cleaned the headphone surface before i started cutting the moon, but a tiny eraser shaving got on it anyway - i noticed it too late and had to scratch it off the sticky side of the tape with the scalpel. the same thing happened when i put the sun's face on, but there i saved it by drawing a beauty mark on that spot. so it'll never look perfect perfect. the marker will wear off anyway and the tape will probably come loose (those sharp edges are just asking for a dogearing) but whatever! i'll make something new and better then!

for now i'm very much enjoying my homemade celestial headphones :3

#my art #diy #iridescent #holographic #sun and moon fanart #vintage illustration #upcycling #crafts #crafting #arts and crafts #craftblr

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crystalsandbubbletea · 16 hours

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Being Demisexual and Demiromantic isn't enough, I need to invade Denmark with my fellow arospecs and acespecs

Scratch that, I need to invade ALL OF EUROPE with my fellow arospecs and acespecs

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thecuriousquest · 6 months

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You Look Handsome Today

Yandere Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

@palesweetscherryblossom Thank you for the inspiration!

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW-ish, non con mentions, abuse mentions, revenge fic, death, it’s really short (that’s what she said), slight degradation mentions, Levi is touchy

Master List

—————————————————————————

You knock on Levi’s office door, holding a tray with tea settled comfortably on the surface, balanced on one arm as you open the door upon the captain granting you entry. Waltzing in, you set the trey down on his desk and give him a patient smile.

“Here is your tea, Captain.”

“Mmm, come sit on my lap while you fix it for me, cadet.”

You blush yet try to remain neutral with his advances. “Yes, sir.”

You pour tea into a cup, adding the elements that he enjoys while resting on his thigh. He feels the shape of your hips, fingers digging into the sides of your trousers.

You hide your disdain for him with such a docile smile.

“Captain, that tickles, please,” you laugh.

“Well, who would’ve thought my brat could be such a giggly little thing?”

Giggly…little. You internally groan and grimace at his words.

As soon as you finish preparing the tea, you give it to him, not to quick but with no hesitation. Your hands are as steady as a rock, and you lean against your captain, shifting in his lap so that you can look him in the eyes.

Everything that has happened to you from the first moment you met him comes bubbling up to the surface. All of the nights he has left you miserable, naked, and cold to sleep on the floor after he violated you. All of the days he made an example out of you during training. All of the beatings and whippings for even the slightest mistakes. All of the times he made you put your “bratty mouth” to “good use”.

You smile upon his first and second sip.

“Captain, I must say, you do look very handsome right now.” You play with his curtain bangs with the tips of your fingers.

“Thank you, brat.”

And, it is true. He is so handsome on the outside, but you know all too well the sadistic monster which hides underneath. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing” as they say.

“Such a handsome man…such a pity, a shame really to go to waste on someone with such ugly insides.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you and sets his teacup down on his desk. “Excuse me, pet? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to.”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, Levi. I mean, it’s not like you’re going to be around for much longer anyway.”

“Cadet-“

You press a finger to his lips. “Levi, did you really think I enjoyed being…what was it you called me? A come whore? Did you think I liked being manhandled, abused, and raped every single night? I can still barely sit here on your knee from the pain in my ass. You always tell me how much I mean to you, how special I am for being able to take your rough treatment, how other girls would go insane from your insatiable desires. Well, I’ll tell you what, Captain, I am special because I’m truly just as sick as you are. Maybe even a little more vile.”

You wrap your arms around his neck.

Levi begins coughing. He puts a clenched fist up to his mouth. Withdrawing it afterwards, he sees the blood spattered across his knuckles. His eyes roam up to find yours, and he looks at you with disbelief, betrayal.

“Y/N, what did you do?”

“I’m surprised you know my real name with how often you call me ‘bitch’ and ‘pet’. There’s a plant not even half a mile from the base. It was a perfect opportunity if you think about it. Oh, poor sweet Captain Levi Ackerman died too soon. Boo hoo. I wonder who will cry at your funeral?”

You lean in so that you can whisper into his ear, “I can tell you it won’t be me.”

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zhongrin · 4 months

Text

𒆙 ღ

part 8/8 of ⎡∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺⎦, a zhongli 2023 birthday event

𖧷 tags ┈ selfship (zhongrin, small hint of zhongwrinth), 3rd person pov from zhongli's side, fluff, bittersweet (like almost all the other chapters are lol), slight soft yandere-ish, slight genshin's canon lore references

𖧷 a/n ┈ happy new year my dear patrons! starting off this year strong with some super indulgent selfship piece :> technically, it can be read as x fem!reader, but you'll find that it was not meant to be one. you'll find a lot of hidden selfship lores in this, and it's very very very self-indulgent and personal (which is why i don't have the usual x reader tags), so keep that in mind and be respectful, please 🙏🏻 you have been warned!

𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 ❬ masterlist ❭ 𐫱 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭

𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 was an intricacy he had been continuously studying over the course of more than six thousand years and counting now.

and still, with every year that passed, he realized there were many sides of love he had not discovered nor experienced himself. things like—

how the peals of someone’s laughter could be comparable to the most melodious bird’s singing, and in its contraposition, how the saddened frown from a beloved person when he forgot an important date due to the many anniversaries which had accumulated over the past few millennia, could cut deeper than the sharpest blades forged by the most proficient masters of the blacksmiths.

how, despite the many losses and reunions he had experienced, he would still have the same nightmare that had been regularly plaguing him from a few millennia back: the vision of her bloodied shell, the rage bubbling from the deepest of his heart. how the mountains tore and the seabed shifted, the anguish as cold as the lifeless body within his hold and as silent as her unmoving crimson-stained lips, the pain hundredfold as he buried her with his own hands in some desolate place ridden by war and placed a single yellow hibiscus as a meagre offering.

how the scent of the sea used to be relatively bearable despite the reflexive scrunch of his nose, and even so, he found himself increasingly becoming averse to them - especially when the scent paired with the minty frost of snezhnaya or the chalky, wintery air of dragonspine.

how, those old times ago, his closest friends had betted on the day he would use his proficiency and skills in the advanced adepti arts to do menial tasks out of love, and though at that time, morax had scoffed and laughed right in front of their face... look at him now, gladly using the ability to maintain adeptal realms to expand his beloved’s teashop or facilitate her travels between the nations of teyvat.

𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒… such an infinitely complex and neverending, yet beautiful affair.

“happy birthday, rex lapis.”

“happy birthday, morax.”

“happy birthday, zhongli.”

“happy birthday, xiànɡ ɡonɡ!”

love tasted like a sweet kiss with a touch of fragrant osmanthus and the bitterness of coffee. love took the form of a bashful and imperfect smile in full bloom against rosy cheeks. love was the way her silken hair felt against his calloused fingers as he tied his treasured golden hair clip around the midnight-colored strands, following her 'coincidental' oversight to bring her own. love was heard in fond wishes and silent gratitudes whispered into the seas of stars, amongst the soft rolls of waves caressing the shores of the harbor of their retirement home.

perhaps his darling won’t be by his side next year. perhaps she would, in a different form than what she was now. perhaps…. he would not survive this year.

but what did it matter?

for even as calamity befell aria, sonnet, and canon, the corpse of a moon still continued its sovereignty in a fixed orbit to encircle teyvat, unchanging — and so he believed the two lovers’ fates would intertwine once again; for she was destined to be his, for he oathed to be bound to her beyond a mortal expiry;

until their souls reunited in a place not even the heavenly principles could reach,

until no more engraved rings could fit in her fingers,

until teyvat's bedrock crumbled into dust.

“the day the rite of parting is recompensed, wife of mine… i promise our 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 will be sealed eternal.”

a contract sealed in souls, befitting of his goetic namesake. this might as well be the most selfish contract he has ever sealed with his blood — yet could one still call him a devil when his victim was most willing?

#genshin impact #zhongli #yandere #rin selfships #zhongrin #zhongwrinth #rin writes #∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺

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baka-bakeneko · 10 months

Text

Moonlight - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

"Veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo, kiss kiss"

tags: Slight NSFW, Rest and Relaxation, soft Miguel, self-care, taking care of Miguel because he refuses to, bath sharing, body touches, web-shooting, stress relief, indulgence, hint of food play, soft foreplay, oral (reader receive), humping

word count: 4.18 k

synopsis: You treat Miguel to a night of rest and relaxation.

a/n: Soft 'Guel, soft boy, lovey boy, so sweet, so aggressive, so sweet though. So soft. He can be soft and body me rn. I'll scratch his back, he'll break mine. also how the fudge is this only 4000-ish words, i feel like i've been writing all day.

You turn on the bath faucet, sitting on the tub's edge after a long day. Miguel's computer was pinging like crazy all day, leaving you and him to track down anomalies through multiverses.

Miguel sits on the couch, waiting on your 'okay' to join him. You told him it was a night of rest and relaxation; No Lyla, no multiverse and no gizmos.

You had taken his watch off of him, locked it in the bedroom then made him some tea, gave him a face mask and some headache medication.

You ordered his favorite takeout, turned on some smooth jazz and ran your fingers through his hair in the meantime.

"Miggy?" you question to the silence.

He hums, moreso noises, at his nickname. You stand up from the tub and lean out of the bathroom.

"You ready?" your tone lilts, peeking your head to see Miguel, his legs stretched out over the chaise portion of the couch already wrapped in a plush robe.

He sets hid head up, quirking a brow at you also wrapped up in a robe. "Am I ever."

You grin at him, holding a hand out for your boyfriend to take. "C'mon, there's room for two."

"Barely, nena," Miguel adds, grabbing your small hand in his. He puts his palm to yours, spreads his fingers out to meet yours before twining his fingers between. "But I'll squeeze in after you."

You giggle, looking at Miguel. He really let you take over his self-care. His beautiful russet tresses were pulled back with a terrycloth headband, the skin under his eyes adorned with gold patches.

"You are so incredibly hot right now," you tease, though it came from a genuine place. This man bodied anomalies, literally pulled his own weight everyday yet he could take a huge step back and take care of himself.

"Yeah?" he smirks, peeking a fang at you.

You nod, reaching for the tie of your robe. "Let's be good for now. But later."

Miguel's eyes rake down your exposed front, bouncing his gaze up and down to his fourth, fifth and sixth favorite parts of you.

"Later," he repeats, pulling his eyes from your trimmed-down pussy.

You grin. "First, bath."

Miguel gulps, not even hiding it, and follows you back into the bathroom. He reaches for the overhead light switch, allowing the candles you placed to illuminate the small space.

The soft yellow glow added to the serenity of the night, the scent of lavender bubbling through the warm water.

"Strip," you order softly, turning away from Miguel to shrug off your robe.

Miguel's eyes follow your robe down your back, admiring the subtle curve of your spine. He reaches to touch your shoulder but you look back at him.

"Stripping," he says, hurriedly reaching for his robe tie then tearing the shoulders down.

Your smile returns, the tip of your tongue prodding at your bottom lip. You point your chin the direction of the tub, the water still running as the tub was halfway filled.

"You first."

Miguel eyes you for a moment, your bottom lip folding in as he moves towards the tub. He timidly steps in, turns around and sits down in the porcelain.

You give way to your excitement, seeing Miguel lounged in the jacuzzi tub. You lean in, holding onto the edge of the tub as you dip your hand in the warm water.

Miguel matches your gaze then glances as your wet hand slides up his tight abdomen to his plush pec.

"Don't keep me waiting," he murmurs, grabbing your wrist and holding it to his chest. Miguel leans in to kiss your forearm. "Get in, coneja."

You slip your foot into the tub, dodging Miguel's long legs, then the other. You wade to the opposite end of the tub, avoiding the faucet as it sprayed water down your back.

Miguel sat up and grabbed your hip, pulling you over him like a blanket. He runs his hands down your sides, entranced in the slippery feeling of your skin.

He leans in and kisses your forehead, then your temples as his hands fondled at your ass. You felt Miguel's soft cock sandwiched between your stomachs, his tip tickling at your belly button.

You squeak at Miguel's hard squeeze, leaning up to press your soapy breasts to his chest. Puckering your lips, your eyes falling half-mast to watch his lips connect with yours.

"You having fun?" you ask, sliding your hands to his shoulders, then up to the back of his neck. Your fingers curl around the stray hairs at his nape and lean in to kiss his open throat.

"Oh yeah," Miguel sighs, dropping his head back to the edge of the tub. You shift further into his hold, straddling his waist before reaching back to shut off the water.

"Stress just melting away?" you ask, running a hand down Miguel's arm to touch at his wrist.

"Just about," Miguel says, hissing at your thumb pushing at his web pore.

"Pent up?"

Miguel grunts when you push your thumb softly at the skin around it. "Hey, hey, easy."

You soothe him with a peck at his chin, run your lips down his throat. "I am, I am I promise."

Your thumb lightly runs around the sensitive pore and you felt Miguel's breath catch in his throat. "It's okay, baby."

Miguel tries to focus on relaxing, his body already there but his mind is now trained on not shooting web. "Cariña..." he warns softly, his eyes rolling back before blinking hard to stare at the ceiling.

You feel his cock hardened between you; you wisp soft breaths over his skin. "Relax, it'll feel better if you release."

Miguel grits his teeth, snapping his head up to meet your eyes. "I can't."

You quirk your brows at him, shake your head then kiss at his chest. You slide your body against his, lean into him further. Miguel reluctantly rests his head back down on the tub ledge as the two of you are enveloped in the warm water.

"Yes, you can," you whisper encouragingly, "don't think too hard about it."

You tap over his web pore, earning a soft hiss escaping his lips. Miguel tips his chin down to rest his forehead against yours.

"You're so soft," Miguel huffs, his free hand running up and down your back, gently pinching at your thigh and ass.

"Mmhmm, you are too," you tempt, kissing at his top lip. Your thumb coaxingly presses at the sensitive skin above Miguel's pore and earn a long, sated moan from his lips.

You feel the tense web shoot out of his wrist, aiming at the bathroom counter and knocking over the trash can. At the same time, you feel his cock twitch.

You massage at the skin again, giving Miguel another kiss to his bottom lip. He shoots again, this time softer in the same direction but hitting door spring. It springs, making a funny twang.

You titter against his lips; Miguel offers a lust-fueled grin back.

Once more you massage over the skin, now soft and lax, and earn a final short web. Miguel groans at the final release, not realizing he was clenching his fist until it was over.

His shoulders finally give in and slip an inch further into the water. You slither up to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he drops his offending hand back into the water.

The epsom salts soothe at his open sore, stopping the pulsation as Miguel's mind drifts off. He thinks of falling asleep here, waiting out your nice-smelling candles until the water runs cold.

Miguel thinks of going straight to bed after this, cuddling up naked in the fresh sheets you put down. He thinks of making a nice, hot igloo with the hot blankets you pulled from the dryer.

His cock twitches in response; you curl your arms around Miguel's shoulders, thinking about falling asleep against him.

You had so many more things planned for the night. Trying on some new lingerie and boxers, clipping Miguel's claws while you watched his favorite movie.

Now though, you fantasize about being carried out of this hot water and laid to bed. You two had a long day.

"Baby," you groan against his neck, nuzzling your face into him.

"Mmm," Miguel offers, pulling both arms around your waist and feeling at your soft, smooth skin in the warm water.

You smell at his skin, already tainted with lavender and sea salt. He runs a hand up to cup at your shoulder, pushing it further for him to kiss there.

"Let's go to bed?" you pout, resting your cheek on his collarbone.

"Hey, what about the rest of the night?" Miguel tries, cradling you close to him.

He rests his chin to the top of your head, ignoring the supple feel of you rubbing against him. He reaches for the bar of soap on its perch and starts to lather it on your thigh.

"We got dessert melting on the counter," he adds, shutting his eyes as he shifts his cheek to the top of your head. "We have movies to watch."

Miguel slides the soap up to your hip, then further up your side before grabbing gently at your breast. You curl onto your back, pressed against Miguel's chest.

You move to straddle one of Miguel's thick thighs, draping your arms over his shoulders and the edge of the tub. He slides the soap between your breasts, watching it slip down to your stomach.

He touches you, caresses your curves in admiration. You hum in response, your eyes fluttering when his fingers teasingly slip over your pert nipples.

"We can eat it in bed," you mutter, the thought of whipped cream dribbling down Miguel's chin and across his tight stomach.

"On our clean sheets?" Miguel asks, baring his teeth to nibble your earlobe. "I had other thoughts to dirty them."

You arch lazily, Miguel's cock grazing your hip. "This is good enough, right?"

At that, you make Miguel laugh lowly. He nudges your temple, starts lapping water over your sudsy body. "Let's get clean then figure it out from there."

You tilt up to look at Miguel, pressing your lips to his jaw. "Thank you for being a good sport about this."

Miguel grits his teeth but flashes a quick grin at you. The aggression runs through his veins but he bites it back for your sake. And he appreciates the lengths you go to making him relax.

"Only for you," he gruffs, sliding his hands up and down your now clean skin, slippier than before. Miguel takes the moment to pull you further into him, licking at your wet shoulder.

He cups your breasts, squeezes them softly before curling his arms around you in a soft hug. You take the soap from the water, lathering it in your hands before sitting up from Miguel's hold.

You turn in the tub and start at Miguel's stomach, washing in the ridges of his abdomen then further up in a figure eight over his pectorals.

Miguel sits up and leans, holding your hand to his chest again. He kisses your lips, then down to your chin and further to your throat as you did him. His lips divert at your collarbone, kissing further to your breastbone then reversing back to kiss the skin under your collarbone.

You sigh at the dark ceiling, the romantic flicker of the candles entrancing you along with the hot feel of Miguel's lips to your skin. Miguel's hand circles your stomach, then your hip and to your thigh.

He rousingly cups your ass, his cock twitching once again. You bow away from him and move to get out.

"Stay here," you tell him, leaning him back by his shoulder as you drip onto the tile floor. "I'll fix dessert. You join me when you're ready."

Miguel snarls at your leaving, his brow furrowing in want as he watches your body drip dry.

"Hermosa," he drones, the want beginning to seep into his tone. "Por favor."

You lean in and kiss Miguel's forehead, pushing him carefully back to the tub. "Relax, honey. We have all night."

You bend to pick up your robe, pull it back on and tie it shut. With another look back at Miguel, you leave the bathroom and catch your breath.

The heat accumulated in the bathroom, in the bathtub, between you too, and you didn't notice until you walked to the bedroom. You pat your skin dry in your robe then go for the gift bag left on your dresser.

You'd bought these gifts for an earlier occasion, but Miguel was too busy with work at the time. Digging through your closet to hide his watch made you stumble upon them again.

Tenderly, you dig through the tissue paper filled bags and toss Miguel's new pair of silk boxers on the clean comforter. You retrieve your new number.

Scarlet, the same shade that ran through Miguel's spider-suit. But this was strappy, a teddy with extra ribbons around the waist and lace around the panty line.

You shrug out of your robe and pull on the lingerie, tying it loosely for easy removal, if at all. You stop to admire yourself in the mirror on the dresser, acknowledging the tight pull the panties did to your butt.

Almost as admirable as Miguel's.

You undo your self-care mask, peeling the eye patches off and throwing them into the trash before pulling your headband off of your head.

You poke at your lips, already kissed and full. Satisfied, you tiptoe back to the kitchen and pop the top of the ice cream cake.

Miguel could hear you shuffling through the kitchen, sitting up after rinsing his body off. "Babe?"

You hum in response, popping your whipped cream fingers into your mouth. "You ready to come out?"

Miguel cocks his jaw, shifting to stand in the tub. He steps out, reaches into the tub to undo the plug then grabs his robe from the floor. "Yeah, I'm coming."

"Go to the bedroom, I have something laid out for you," you call out, cutting into the soft serve cake and placing a slice in a bowl. "Put them on and then sit on the couch."

Miguel stops in the bathroom, hands magnetically placing on his waist. "Babe..." he tries.

"Ah, ah, ah. Don't with that voice. Go. Change," you order, swiping your thumb along the side of the knife and bringing the remnants of the cake to your lips to suck it off.

Miguel smacks his lips but opens the door, following your orders precisely. He glances over his shoulder to you in the kitchen, his eyes lighting at the glimpse of lace and ribbon tying around your body.

Miguel walks into the bedroom, stops at the foot of the bed to eye the blue silk boxers you laid out for him. He bites back a grimace, dropping his robe to the floor and grabbing the underwear, pulling them on.

He leans back egregiously to take another long look at you in the kitchen. Miguel picks up his feet as he makes his way towards you, only for you to look over at him.

While you weren't keen on telepathy like him, you knew Miguel wouldn't follow unless you eyed him down. You nod in the direction of the couch and Miguel sighs, going to sit down.

You grab the bowls of ice cream cake along with two spoons and make your way to Miguel.

"A little treat," you coo, holding a bowl out for Miguel.

Miguel thanks you, eyes only fixated on the red enveloping your body. "You look..."

You shake your head, sitting next to Miguel as you hand him a spoon. Your eyes flash down his body, acknowledging the short silk shorts on him.

"So do you," you reciprocate, cutting off a spoonful of cake to bring to Miguel's lips. You lick at your lips, watching Miguel's mouth curve around your spoon and pull the dessert off.

Miguel hums as the ice cream melts in his mouth, the warmth from the bath combatting with the cold on his tongue. He leans in to catch your lips, immediately lapping his creamy tongue against yours.

You moan, your eyes rolling at the lavish movement of his tongue in your mouth. He pulls away, brushing his thumb along your jaw.

"Thank you," Miguel softly speaks, "for tonight."

"Aww," you pout, leaning in to kiss the inside of Miguel's wrist. "Night's not over yet, baby."

He hides a roll of his eyes, his lips pulling into a tender smile. "I know."

You cut off another piece of ice cream and hold it out for Miguel to eat. "I could treat you every night, you know that too."

Miguel's eyes close slow, taking the spoon offering and licking his lips after. The cream paints his lips with a soft shine, you lean in and kiss him again then chain another kiss to his jaw, then his earlobe.

His hand slips down your throat, to your shoulder where his thumb catches last on your lingerie strap.

"Mmm," his lips follow after your ear. "Don't I? I wish I could do the same for you."

You pull back with a soft gasp, almost offended by his statement. "Baby, you do. Everyday."

Miguel shuts you up with a third kiss, thumbing your strap down your shoulder. You smile against him, retracting and grabbing another spoonful of dessert.

"Finish your dessert," you urge.

"I'm trying," he growls, inches from your lips. "But you won't let me."

You giggle, pulling further from him. "That's for later. Relax. Enjoy."

Miguel relents, finally taking a spoon to his own dessert bowl. You pull your legs up onto the couch, crossing them before you as Miguel leans halfway against the back of the couch. One foot planted on the floor, the other tucked under him as he spoons dessert mildly.

"Good?" you ask, leaning forward to touch at Miguel's thick thigh.

Miguel nods, holding his spoon in his mouth for a moment before pulling it out. You smile, setting your bowl onto the ottoman and kneeling over to your boyfriend.

You affectionately peel the eye patches from Miguel's under eyes, running your ring fingers over the soft skin underneath.

Miguel tilts his head up to accommodate your kneeling stature, setting his bowl aside as you ran your fingers through his hair starting at his hairline, peeling the headband from his head.

He rests his hands on your waist, his fingers twitching at the fabrics adorning your body. You curl your arms around Miguel's head, giving him a slight hug.

You kiss his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead and around; Miguel groans at your levity, your gentility, as he curls his arms around your waist and thighs.

"I love you," you whisper against his lips, letting the smooth jazz steal away the shock of your words.

You stare down at Miguel, your eyes misting as you gaze at him; you admire his beauty, his strength and masculinity. His normally red-tinged eyes were dulled to white due to your lubricating eye drops.

"I love you," Miguel chokes out with a sigh. He stares up at you, a beauty in your own right. The soft lighting caught onto your features, ethereality kissed your skin and made you luminous.

You push your cheek to Miguel's and nuzzle him closely, holding back on squeezing him tightly into your chest. Miguel grabs the backs of your knees, straddling you over his lap then picking you up.

He adjusts you against his waist, carrying you to the bedroom. Miguel rests you on the edge of the bed, stretches over you and lines you in the center of the bed.

He pets up your thighs, gripping at the loose ribbon tied in the small of your back. He looks down then back up, waiting for the 'okay'.

You beam at him, peeling the straps from your shoulders. "Go ahead," you sultrily breathe. "Unwrap your present."

Miguel spares a dry chuckle at you; you scrunch your nose at him and eagerly wait as he undoes the ribbon. You shimmy out of the short-lived lingerie; Miguel crumbles up the fancy suit and tosses it over his shoulder to the floor.

You run a hand down his front, your fingers catching on the elastic band of his shorts. You peel them away from him, let them snap back to his waist then again until he gets the hint.

Miguel shifts upright, tearing his shorts down to his knees; he presses his hands up to either side of your body, nudging his new shorts down from his knees before flicking them from his ankles.

He presses against your body; now that you're both dry, the friction feels a new type of delicious. In the morning, you'll offer to lather the man in lotion. But for now, your focus is on him.

You arch up to kiss his shoulder, ducking your face to kiss between his pecs and breast bone. You wrap your arms around him, drifting your fingers along the curve of his back.

Miguel cages your head in his arms, leaning down to tease your lips with a kiss. This level of intimacy felt better than being inside you, feeling all of you so exposed and raw.

He breathes down at you, his eyes drifting down the length of your body; Miguel trails ginger kisses across your body, attempting to grace every inch of your skin with his acknowledgement.

He stops at your waist, circling your navel with his nose then licking at the skin between your mound and it.

A chill runs down your spine, angling your hips into the bed.

"Miggy," you whine lowly. "I'm wet, I'm yours."

He huffs, slightly amused by your words. "I know," he reassures you, kissing down to the top of your slit. "I know you are."

Miguel tempts his tongue out and envelops your clit in a kiss. You croon, one hand clutching the clean comforter and the other going for the back of your boyfriend's head.

You run your fingers through his luxurious hair, tangling around your digits as if it were trying to hold you back. You throw your head back against the edge of the pillow, seeing stars by his subtle pressure.

He pulls away, licks between your wet folds then around them. Your hips wiggle, which Miguel notices and holds them steady.

You want to tell him it's enough, if he continues you'll be undone. But it feels too good.

Miguel says nothing back, already rutting against comforter to stimulate his aching cock. He teases his tongue into you, slips it up to your clit again and suctions on it yearningly.

His other inside wrist, the one you hadn't eased, throbs against your skin. You notice the heat along your hip, matched with the heat of Miguel's mouth and moan out again.

Your noises spur Miguel further, driving his cock harder to the bed. He slips his tongue into you again, this time lapping in and out devotedly then pulling out when he feels your walls start to contract.

You whine at his abandon, following Miguel's lips back up to your clit a third time. Your knees tremble over his shoulders, finding yourself losing grip.

Miguel rides with your movements, rutting in tandem with the thought of being in you, over you, under you. Your breaths were pitchy, your moans saccharine in his ears.

His wrist pulses excitedly, on the precipice. Miguel teases you a final time, edging his tongue into you and pumping it languidly until you seize.

"Miguel," you gasp, orgasming on his tongue and following his beautiful name with whiny moans and acute whimpers.

Miguel growls against your quivering pussy, carefully lapping up your juices as he ruts hard. He stops, huffing against your thigh, baring his fang to your flesh as he cums, lifting his hips to shoot his cum over the comforter.

At the same time, his wrist expels a long, tense web across the room; the strong fiber grabs onto the bedside lap, driving the table into the wall until it fully expels from his buildup.

Miguel catches his breath just against your stomach, his hands rubbing along your thighs in appreciation. Your eyes flutter when your orgasm finally leaves you, running your hand back and forth through Miguel's hair.

The two of you soak up the beautiful silence, the breaths you two share in tandem; Miguel kisses your navel then sits up, crawling next to you.

He drapes his arm over your body, curls his fingers over your ear. Miguel attempts to say something, find the words to pad afterwards.

His eyes say enough, his chiseled face soft and loving as he stares down at you. You tilt your chin up, nudge your nose to his.

Miguel's eyes slowly close, brushing his nose back and forth against yours. You do the same, following his slow pull into his side until you both fall asleep.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #miguel x reader #astv miguel #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #marvel smut

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madhattervanessa · 10 months

Text

Valerian Root

This is a blurb I have been writing on for a while - it might spin off into a longer fic but I’m not sure I’ll ever upload it... if I’ll ever do it, you’ll find it on ao3

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Deathless x f!Witch!Reader

Summary: As you suffer from another wave of migraines, an unexpected guest returns to your home to take care of you... in more ways than one.

Warnings: Migraines, consensual-ish drugging (It’s for the reader’s health) and sudden appearing in readers living spaces, nipple play, biting, scratching, grinding/dry humping, rough-ish p in v sex

Words: 4646

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

“I seldomly see you return this often, little witch.”

Your eyes stray from the beautiful scenery and towards the edge of your dream, the fibrillation coming from the deep timbre catching your attention - because despite opium and valerian root making for potent sleep and pain aiding drugs, this was not one of the usual effects.

You find him wandering through the darkness at the edge of the clearing before he manages to come closer, through the soft grass and into the light.

His long coat swishes through the moss and ferns as he slowly approaches, like someone attempting to feed a stray cat. Centuries of experience make him know to be careful - your dreams had always been fragile bubbles of calm and you’d grown protective of them even as a child. Now, more than ever, he was reminded of your first few meetings.

He knows, even cats who have grown docile will bite if given reason.

You purse your lips and avert your eyes towards a pile of books off to the side. He lets his eyes trail over you, the long, lightweight gown that floats just shy off the ground as you sway back and forth on the padded swing you sprawled out on.

He stops just shy of the swing, his presence carefully pushing into your personal space, gently intruding, waiting for you to pounce, retreat… or stay.

His coat is shed as he takes another form, jumping up into the swing with you to rub a soft cheek against your bare leg, carefully nudging the thin fabric covering you.

You smile and set your eyes upon the large, black cat nuzzling into your skin. You reach out and carefully pet his chin, moving on to his cheek before it smashes against your skin again.

A low rumbling purr starts as you continue caressing the soft fur behind his jaw, your other hand reaching for a book to read.

You keep the illusion for a while but then the walls of it shudder again and a slither of pain runs down your spine as the connection to your body strengthens again, the dreaming barely holding on.

You groan as you wake, still trying to hold on to the comfort your dream had brought you but it’s too late: The sharp pain and thrumming behind your eyes has returned with viciousness. You forcefully try to relax the muscles in your face as you look over your sun filled apartment.

It’s of no use, though.

So you carefully detangle from your sheets and pad through your apartment towards the kitchen.

There’s already some darkness creeping over the smooth tiles there. You sigh as the first step brings a cooling sensation underneath the soles of your feet, a short lived comfort.

You click the electric kettle on and grab a fresh thermos before filling it with your hand mixed tea as well as some honey.

As you wait for the water to boil, you hear the pearl curtain in your hallway clatter softly, despite it being absolutely windless in your apartment.

You’ve reached for a knife without much thinking. Your heartbeat immediately feels more prominent than your nausea as you peek around the fridge, down towards the hallway.

No one there.

You’re about to sign off of it being all in your imagination. But checking other rooms would not hurt. It had never been a bad idea in any century.

The kettle clicks and you hear as the water starts boiling.

But as you take a step backwards, the hair on the back of your neck stands and goosebumps litter your arms as you feel a presence stepping closer.

“Put the knife down, little witch.”

You jump, despite the soft murmur, and the knife clatters to the ground.

Two hands quickly envelop your shoulders and pull you back, the knife’s edge only just missing your bare feet.

You turn your head. “Morpheus”, you murmur, returning the fond look he has leveled at you, his hands slowly smoothing down your arms as he takes you in. “I- I have not called upon you-”

“I made time, after sensing your distress.”

He lets you go and carefully picks up the knife from the ground. Meanwhile you are still standing, quite starstruck, trying to make sense of this.

The last time you had seen him had been just months ago, a brief meeting after a hundred or more years of his disappearance. Nothing but a quick reassurance that he was back and would return to you once the rebuilding of the dreaming was done. Paired with a short request to look after a particular member of the Constantine family.

He strolls past you and into the kitchen. As you turn to follow him, another wave of nausea crashes against you and you hold on to the doorframe before deciding to sit down at the desk on the other side of the hallway.

The clinking and clattering from the kitchen grates against your sensitive nerves and you hesitantly open an eye to watch as he fills a teacup with boiling water before sprinkling some of your tea mixture into it.

The clattering stops and you close your eyes again, trying to focus on the distinct silence and the way the air seems filled with his presence.

A soft touch to your knee makes you open your eyes again to find Morpheus kneeling in front of you, the cup of tea in one hand and a small, white pill in the other.

You roll your eyes, contrary to your smile, despite the pain it causes.

“You know I don’t like painkillers-”

“Amuse me.”

You glare at him, your smile falling as you look back towards his offerings. As you reach for the teacup, purposefully ignoring the pill, he levels another soft and openly amused look at you.

“I’ll have the tea. Thank you”, you murmur and he sighs before tilting his head in silent acceptance.

You tentatively sip at your tea, finding at the perfect temperature. He watches closely as he gets up and you take another gulp. The pill is placed on the desk, well in sight of your weary eyes.

“Have it your way, then.”

“I always do. You know Hecate makes sure of it.”

The reference to the Moirai makes him straighten up for a second before he smiles - no doubt catching your remark as what it is.

You had not just idled around, you had found out where he had been all this time, what exactly he had been up to.

As you sip your tea, he follows his own curiosity, doing what he hadn’t been able to do the last time; carefully cataloging your apartment, the changes, the new additions. One of them being a plush armchair, the blue hues of its padding close enough to his eyes to have reminded you of him, just like the dark wood had reminded you of his attire and hair.

The dull ache in your head goes on and you hardly listen to the sounds surrounding you, trying to focus on your heartbeat.

That is, until you hear the dull sounds of boots falling, one by one, harshly interrupting your meditation.

“What are you doing over there?”

You turn to find him carefully draping his coat over said armchair as a wave of drowsiness overcomes you, his boots already neatly stacked underneath.

His pants follow, leaving him in underwear and a shirt, just like you.

You look him up and down before meeting his eyes and your breath hitches, the urge to get up and join him increasing with every second of eye contact shared between the two of you. But then there’s another wave of drowsiness and the pounding pain in your skull dulls to a gentle knock.

“You put something in my tea-?”, you murmur, your tongue feeling sticky and heavy in your mouth.

You put the tea down and your head lolls to the side before a gentle hand caresses your cheek and your temple rests against the soft fabric of his shirt. The smell of moss and old books from your dream fills your nose, a clear testament to his visit in it just mere moments ago.

“I do have access to more elusive ingredients for potion mixing, aiodos.”

The endearment runs down your spine soothingly as you frown, even though the energy to do so is leaving you steadily.

“Though I admit your mix of opium and valerian root to be quite potent.”

You blink again and feel your old heart slow as if you were a bear about to enter hibernation, your lips tingling pleasantly as if you had sipped some spiced wine instead of tea.

You want to say what you think of his little betrayal, want to curse and spite him-

“Come now, let’s get you to bed.”

You find yourself in his arms, despite your pitiful whine, despite trying to push him away. Your head falls against his chest and suddenly you feel frail like glass.

He carries you through the short hallway with care, his lips at your temple as the fight in you returns for a second, the need to prove you can damn well take care of yourself but a shush and his lips pressed to your forehead makes the seed die before it can sprout.

You sigh and go limp in his arms, then, the numbness traveling from the toes of your feet and your fingertips, up your body with every breath you take.

“Rest now. There’s nothing you need to fear. I am watching over you.”

When you next wake, the moon is barely peeking through the curtains, bathing everything in a cool, glittering light.

The heaviness you feel in your bones makes you feel like you have slept for eons.

It takes you a moment to remember, to become aware of the warm nook of a shoulder you are pressed into, the arm wound around you, the soft breaths fanning over your head.

You glance up at him and find him resting. A rare sight, even in your living spaces, thoroughly secured by runes and protection circles.

You can’t help but smile as you turn and let the flat of your hand carefully roam over his chest. There is no shame in staving off the inevitable a little longer, not after all this time.

So you watch the moon slowly illuminate the altar off to the side of the room and wait, relishing in the calm. It is then that you notice the absence of your pain and exhaustion.

“I trust you are feeling better?” The low grumble underneath your ear almost makes you jump had there not been the steady climb of a second hand towards your thigh.

You sigh in response and rub your leg against his underneath the plush blankets. A low hum sounds in return and you know there’s a pleased smile on his face without turning. The hand on your thigh moves in calming back and forth motions like a pendulum.

You lose yourself in the gentle touch before your hand travels higher, up to his collarbones and you feel him tense for a moment as you trace the lines up to his neck, the links of his necklace. As your touch travels to his jaw, he relaxes again.

It’s quite telling, really, that he is still laying here, instead of leaving you, knocked out cold.

“I feel... exhausted. Thoroughly rested.” You take another deep breath and prop your head up as your fingertips dance over his chin and back down to his throat. There’s the slightest hint of stubble there, underneath your touch and you wonder if it’s to feed into your own desires or if it’s an unwanted symptom of him not resting before taking care of his kingdom.

“You worried me.”

You hum and keep appreciating his form, wetting your lips as your fingers trace the lines of his chest. Inside, the admission had made you freeze and almost catch your breath.

Your eyes flick to his but you find him looking anywhere else, your sleep mussed hair, your shoulder peeking out from underneath the blankets - anywhere so as to not meet your eyes. It is more telling than him looking back but you simply take it in stride.

“I do apologize if I distracted you from your duties, milord”, you murmur, a teasing smile on your face as he finally returns your gaze. He tugs you over himself by your thigh, fully covering himself in you. His fingertips tickle the back of your thigh and you bite your lip.

However, before either of you can start to banter, a distant flutter, followed by a quiet squawk distracts you.

You turn your head and catch a shadow moving outside, then another flutter and the distant sound of bird’s claws on the balcony just outside your living room and kitchen.

You level a glare at Dream from the corner of your eye before you shuffle out of his grip and out of bed.

A call of your name and another sigh follow your footsteps through to the other room. Still barefoot and only in a shirt and underwear. You fumble with your fingertips at the seam of it, only then realizing the black color, the soft fabric- it lifts your sour mood just slightly. The smell of petrichor and sandalwood envelops you, following you, just like Dream’s eyes do.

There.

You spot just the slightest hint of a beak through one of your windows before the small, black shadow flutters to the next.

You hasten your steps in turn and manage to pull the window open before they can hop any further.

They jump, visibly shocked as you face them with a grim smile.

“Hello there. May I help you with something?”

After a few inquisitive turns of their head, they clear their throat.

“I-I-” You take your time to muster the bird, thinking them to be the familiar of another witch but then there’s that smell, that energy surrounding the little spy.

“You’re quite handsome.” The nervous flutter of feathers makes you perk up and you look him up and down a bit more intently as you lean onto the window sill. “You’re Dream’s new raven, aren’t you?”

“Oh- uhm... yeah, I keep an eye out for him, he... he tends to... get into trouble.”

You smile sweetly at him and nod.

“He does. But he is safe here, you know. And I do appreciate my privacy.”

“I-I understand but he’s been-”

“Matthew.”

The raven nearly jumps off of the sill at the low growl from behind you.

Pretty name for a pretty bird.

You welcome the warmth pressing against you from behind as an arm winds around your waist. “I told you not to spy on me.”

“I know, Sir, but after yesterday-”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Morpheus reaching towards the window.

“Give Lucienne my regards, Matthew. And please do visit again, I feel like we have much to talk about”, you quickly manage, sensing the impending end of your conversation, and as soon as your last word leaves your lips, Dream slams the window shut right in front of Matthew’s beak.

“I’m sorry about him.”

You arch an eyebrow at that, the word sorry had seen few uses in Morpheus’ vocabulary over the centuries. His nose presses against your cheek, just shy of a kiss.

“Let’s head back to bed.”

You spot the point of a raven’s beak as you just outside the window as he presses you impossibly closer, his lips trailing over your cheek to your neck.

Another arm wraps around you and you watch his hand trail over your collarbone before a thumb briefly rubs against your nipple: cheeky, and yet not to be unexpected from your lover.

“Morpheus-”, you whisper, rendered breathless at the overflow of tender motions. You give into the distraction and avert your eyes from the window.

“Mhm?”

“I’m barely back on my feet.”

“So let’s return to your bed, lover”, he murmurs, already pulling you back, away from the window and out of your kitchen.

You chuckle and turn in his arms, meeting his eyes before you lean against his forehead with your own.

“You should not be so harsh on him, you know? Jessamy’s footsteps are big ones to fill.”

“He is too curious for his own good. He needs to learn.”

“Is that what this is, then? A lesson for your raven?”

“It does present itself as a welcome side effect. Though my visit was motivated by very selfish cravings.” The low murmur makes heat lick up your spine. A knuckle tilts your chin up to his and your lips are captured in a kiss, his nose nudging against yours as his lips delicately press against your own.

The kiss leaves you in something akin to a trance and you follow him through the apartment to your bed, his hands steadily wandering over your body as do yours.

You are tempted to push him against a wall instead but as if he were able to read your mind, then, he kisses you again and holds you tight against him, his hands sneaking underneath your shirt. It sends a thrill up his spine to hear you moan in response, to feel you fit into his hands once more.

He grunts as he walks backwards into your bed but you just chuckle and redirect him.

He sits back and you crawl into his lap, before pressing another kiss to the frown that had presented itself on his lips.

“You know this would be easier in my realm.”

“Mh- but I dislike the journey there too much and you know full well.”

He sits back against the headboard and you settle there together, your hands trailing over his chest as he grabs you by the nape of your neck to pull you into another kiss.

You hum and grab the hem of his shirt tightly as he opens your mouth with his own, your breaths mingling as you inhale each other’s presence.

His hands fit themselves into your waist, relishing in the bare skin underneath as he seems to swallow you whole. He could, potentially. Kidnap you and keep you, like Hades did with Persephone. But he knows better than to upset your matron goddesses.

“You know I struggle with the waking world just as much.”

“If you insist”, you whisper back, a faint smile on your lips before you peck his lips again. As you lean back to take your shirt off, however, he leans in to press more kisses to your jaw and down to your neck.

You sigh in content, melting in his grasp as you let your head fall back. However, when you shoot a quick glance towards your alarm clock, you find the space empty.

As teeth scrape over the thin skin covering your collarbone, you do another double take. But it’s gone.

“Dream-”, you mutter, still distracted, especially as he gentles the rasp of his teeth with his tongue. “Morpheus, where is my alarm clock?”

“Irrelevant.”

You frown and this time it’s you who grabs him by the chin to make him look at you. You lean back to look at him, even though you miss the proximity immediately.

“How long did you make me sleep for?” He purses his lips, the annoyance clear as day on his features. Oh, you could picture it perfectly well now, that glare towards the alarm while you were sound asleep on his chest. One time must have been more than enough, then, for him to make the poor thing disappear.

He sighs.

“Two days.” He trails off, his eyes caught on your lips for a moment before they flick back upwards. “I think.”

“You think?” You let go of his chin and shake your head at him. “Two days. I have a job, Morpheus.”

“That job is pointless. You’re a witch”, he grumbles, pressing another furious kiss to your neck. “Besides, you had fallen ill. No use in working when you can hardly stand.” He tugs you back to fully sit in his lap again, winding his arms around you as if you were a dream about to catch flight in the world. Your boiling anger simmers at the tender motion, if only for a moment.

“You’re not usually this disagreeable with me.”

The murmur is almost lost on you but the memory it procures definitely isn’t. Images of past meetings make your still weak head spin, make you bite your lip at the memory of hastily rucked up skirts and wanton moans that had left neighbors in many a century both flustered and angry.

You lean in to kiss him again, then, because that is usually all it takes, especially when he frustrates you: The memory of time you had spent together when you could.

“Next time you are in distress, call for me.” Teeth nip at your bottom lip, a silent reprimand and you let your fingertips trail over his neck, towards the nape where you can sneak into his hair.

“I have friends and other, less busy lovers for that, Dream. You don’t need to take care of me”, you mutter, tongue too quick and nudging against ancient disputes between the two of you.

The hands on your hips tighten at the mention of the others. While he tolerated your need for more than his sparse visits, he didn’t necessarily like it.

“I’m sorry, I-”

Instead of a wrathful reply, you receive a fierce kiss, one that makes your teeth click. You can taste a hint of blood from where teeth must have pierced your lip but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

His hands gently cup your face and he grunts as you cant your hips against his. He turns the two of you so you’re flat on your back. Your mouths never part, locked in a hot and messy tangle. A tongue nudges against yours and you lose your train of thought. The soft touches quickly escalate into something more desperate after that.

One of his hands grabs your ass to hold you steady as you squirm underneath him, the soft touches underneath your shirt turning into rough groping, his thumb steadily rubbing against your nipples.

You hold on to his shoulder, losing yourself in the kisses exchanged as you gasp for air. He lets you grind your pussy against his hard length, the damp fabric catching on your clit with every one of your combined movements.

It’s a stubborn game, the silence between the two of you. Every time one of you moves to kiss the other’s neck, their jaw, the other muffles their own sounds. When you bite down on his earlobe, a small gasp escapes him and you grin triumphantly as the thrust of his hips jolts you up the mattress with your own moan.

You let your lips trail over the shell of his ear. As you grind your pussy down against him, you moan into his ear and the groan he responds with makes you shudder. Out of the corner of your eye you see him furrowing his brows and both of his hands tug you down harder, his own hips searching for the friction.

Finally, he rips your underwear off of you - you scramble to get your shirt off but he is faster than you, pinning you down to line himself up with your pussy.

You’re abruptly shoved up the mattress and gasp as he presses into you with a rough shove.

“Morpheus”, you whisper and grab his chin to lead him into another kiss.

“What is it? Tell me.”

Your fingertips dig into the bone of his jaw. You would be drawing blood with any of your human lovers, you know that, but he is leaving imprints of his teeth in your skin and you can’t help yourself. You bare your teeth as he leans down to suck at your pulse.

“What do you want?”, he murmurs over the wet skin and you feel yourself growing wetter as you grind against him.

“You know exactly what I want, you just want me to say it. I shouldn’t give you the satisfaction”, you sigh and roll your hips against his a little harder, finding that perfect spot to rub your clit against, a perfect bit of friction that makes your cheeks heat up. “Undress me, Morpheus. I want to feel you. Please.”

He hums and slides his hands over your back, up, underneath the shirt. He pulls it off very carefully and your hands move on to his shirt before your own is even fully discarded. You’re less careful than he is and he seems to approve, visibly impatient as he shuffles you until your chest presses up against his before his lips find yours again.

He starts moving his hips again and you keen into his mouth at the friction. You pull at his shoulders, wanting more but unable to voice it.

You let your hand trail over his back, down until you can scratch your nails over his thigh. It makes him moan, his hips jutting forward until you can grasp it in one of your hands.

“Cunning”, he murmurs but he doesn’t resist your pull, doesn’t so much as blink an eye. Instead he pushes two of his slender fingers against your clit, the slick sound drowned out by your moan.

"Morpheus, more-"

"Be patient", he murmurs and you want to bite at him, your lips already searching for the skin of his neck.

You faintly hear your phone ring but Morpheus pushes his slick fingers between your lips.

You meet his eyes, fully entranced, your legs haphazardly nudged to the crooks of his elbows as he pushes closer, closer until you can feel him bottoming out.

You bite down on his fingers. It changes his sullen expression, his brows furrowing, his lips twitching as he presses his hard cock deeper until you keen and let go.

Spit slick fingers trail down over your bottom lip before he leans in to kiss you again. The spit smears against your arm before he intertwines his fingers with yours. Your moans are muffled by the kiss, a harsh and passionate thing, aided by tongue and teeth as he thrusts into you.

The headboard creaks with great offense as you grab a hold of the wood and dig your nails into it.

He drags his palm over your arm before it settles next to yours on the bedframe, his nose dipping down to press against your cheek. His thrusts are almost punishing. Every single one is making the breath in your throat catch.

You lean your cheek against your knee that is pushed up next to your head. He follows the movement, his lips smearing against the tendons in your neck.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes”, you gasp, mindless in the pursuit of your own pleasure.

He doesn’t let up until your orgasm burns through you and he has to muffle your sounds with another kiss before he follows with his own orgasm.

You pant heavily as he lifts his mouth from yours. You detangle carefully, your whole body aching. Meanwhile Morpheus is quick to get dressed again before he is off to your bathroom.

You awake to a warm feeling and crack one eyelid open to watch as Morpheus carefully cleans you with a wet, warm towel.

When he is finally done, he joins you in bed again, his hands dragging over your still naked body, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

“How do you feel?”

You snort and scooch closer until you can put a leg over his hip.

“Godlike”, you finally sigh. It earns you an amused chuckle and another murmur that you don’t catch over your increasing drowsiness.

#morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #dream x reader #matthew the raven

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