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moonrisecoeur · 1 month

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romance — leon kennedy

author’s note: i am sick this is actually a really cute fic. although i might be a lil mentally ill. this fic is for @ovaryacted so i hope u like it nic :3 feeling re6 leon vibes hehe !!

wc: 4.7k

content: detective leon x psycho reader, fem!reader (reader wears a dress and is referred to femininely), no d/s dynamics but reader is slightly more in control, lots of pet names (sweet girl, pretty girl, princess, my girl, sweetheart, sweetie, pretty wife), talks of marriage, unprotected sex, blood as lube. reader is like actually insane but leon loves her.

warning: this fic is dark content, containing moderate amounts of blood and gore depictions, along with discussions of murder, torture, bodies, weapons, etc. please read with caution and take care of yourself.

—

notes:

"i'd love to see you in a beautiful dress," he says softly.

“i would look pretty just for you.”

leon chuckles and squeezes your hand again, it's funny how he can go from fearing you to becoming utterly enamored with you in a matter of moments.

"i have no doubts about that, sweetheart," he replies, "now come here."

—

“what… have you done now, princess?” he stumbles, because when you said you look good in red, he clumsily thought you meant you were going to wear a red dress for him.

“the guy was asking for it, lee,” you tell him, taking a step closer to reach out to him, but he steps back, “are you… afraid of me?”

“kinda. i also just… i don’t want you to get blood on my work clothes,” his smile is always gentle towards you. there’s no reality where detective kennedy can get mad at you, though. he adores you too greatly.

your eyes drop from focusing on his soft, warm gaze, to trailing down his body. he really does make himself pretty for you. black blazer and black dress pants on top of a red wine button down, top two buttons left unbuttoned because obviously the s in leon s. kennedy stands for slut. or maybe selfless? sensitive? submissive? who knows?

either way, you have the eyes of a predator. he knows you know that, yet you make no attempt to ease his mind, to tell him, ‘oh, it’s alright baby. i would never hurt you’ because neither of you are sure if that’s true.

“blood on your clothes, huh..?” you murmur, almost distantly, like your mind was somewhere else.

“we, uh, have dinner reservations, baby. why don’t you get cleaned up and we can go? i don’t think… the restaurant would appreciate blood all over their chairs and tables,” he looks away, and then back to you. your eyes are hungry, but he tries to keep you focused, “baby, you got rid of the body, right?”

“well.. not necessarily… i wanted to dismember him myself,” you pout, like you were asking for something a lot less gruesome. like, ‘leon, could we please get ice cream after dinner?’ but instead you were asking something a little bit more on brand for you. he doesn’t even know why he’s surprised.

“just… okay, whatever. just c’mere and kiss me, sweetie,” he welcomes you into his arms again, refusing to even pay any mind to the viscous scarlet liquid that saturates his velvet suit, your hand staining his neck and you reach to rest it on the back of his neck. he stopped caring about the mess and wrapped his arms around your waist.

you kiss him feverishly, stained hands and tainted souls clashing together. leon was rotten before you met him, corrupted and dark. you feel a bit more comfortable with the fact that you have not ruined him. there was nothing good about him to ruin. he lies, fabricates and destroys evidence, forces confessions, truly a brutal guy.

and yet, for the pretty thing that clutches onto him, only feeling truly happy in his arms, he is comfort. he’s safety and goodness. he is everything that’s right in her world. your world.

you are awful. but so is leon. that is why he loves you so dearly. if people like you both are even capable of such emotions.

your dress is carmine and if leon didn’t know any better, he’d think you were a victim of a heinous crime, but he does know better. and he knows there is not a single scratch or bruise on you.

leon holds you close to him, hands wrapped around your waist, giving you his complete soul, enjoying the warmth of your embrace and the familiar feel of your lips pressed against his. he squeezes you tightly and runs his hands along your hips, his touch smooth and gentle.

leon is your complete opposite. your touch is forceful and aggressive, but leon is gentle. all your body knows is his softness. you are erratic and violent, but leon is composed.

as you continue kissing him, leon's breath becomes heavier and his heart beats faster. he pulls away for a moment, panting gently as an expression of pure joy and relief crosses his face. leon leans down again, this time capturing your chin between his fingers as he looks into your eyes, soaking in the sight of you.

“you… are beautiful,” his voice echoes, low and full of an adoration even leon can’t wrap his head around. scarlet covers your figure, and all he can see is utter beauty.

“you got anywhere to be, detective kennedy?” you smile as you address him professionally, but it’s only teasing. your hand is moving to help him shrug off his suit coat and he thinks he might be here a bit longer than he thought. you throw it onto the table.when your hand starts moving to help him take off his jacket, his eyebrow raises in interest, and his eyes follow the movement of your hand until it touches his shoulder and starts undoing the buttons.

"no, nowhere in particular," he says casually, watching his coat get thrown to the side. you’re careless. that is expensive velvet, and your red hands definitely just ruined it. it’s alright he muses, he’ll just replace it.

the coat, he clarifies to himself. he’ll replace the coat. not this memory with you.

"excellent," you tell him, crimson fingers tangling into his blonde hair, “i wasn’t going to let you leave anyway.”

"i figured as much," he chuckles playfully, enjoying the feeling of your fingers digging into his scalp, massaging the tension away. leon's body relaxes against yours, savoring the feel of you pressed against him. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer.

"i've been working way too hard today," he sighs, and he sees the soft pout that comes to your face. it’s gotta be the cutest thing he’d ever seen, "don’t look at me like that, baby. i just didn't get much of a chance to relax. it’s my job, princess.” leon squeezes you tightly against him, the warmth from his body radiating against yours.

“how does your brain work for that long?” you shake your head, “i feel like i would start losing it with how long of days you work. you shouldn’t have to work so hard, lee.”

"i swear, i was staring at the same case file for like, ten hours straight," he sighs. "i can't look at those numbers and words anymore."

"i bet," you mumble, noticing the way the blood is drying up in his hair and on both of your clothes and skin, "you look like you're the murderer now," you chuckle, "i think i'm going to have to lock you up."

leon lets out a laugh, looking down at himself and noticing the dried blood caking up in his hair and on his suit, "i bet i do," he chuckles, "i look like i've just come from a crime scene."

leon looks up at you, his eyes shining mischievously. "then i guess you'll have to arrest me," he teases, "do you have the handcuffs ready?"

you laugh, mostly because you know he’s making shitty jokes, but also because you might enjoy restraining him a little too much, “oh yeah, except the jail cell is my bedroom.”

"well, you're the officer who has to bring me in," he says with a smirk, "i don't think i'll be resisting arrest too much."

“oh, shut up, dork. just kiss me,” you groan to him, pulling him in by the hips. his white button up dress shirt being stained by your red hands feels indicative of what you’ve done to leon. it’s not like he’s perfectly pristine, he’s been a corrupt cop for years, but… you have only made him worse.

it's as if he's addicted to the touch and affection of your hands, his body becoming hot with desire. he enjoys the way you press against him, your red hands staining his shirt and staining his soul. your fingers dig into his hips forcefully as you pull him in close to you, your tainted hands staining his clothes as you do so. you've definitely made him even more corrupt than he was before you came into the picture, and he's loving every second of it.

you pull away to whisper to him, in his ear, wet blood covering his skin and his clothes, "i love you."

now, he’s known for a long time that you love him, even if that love is twisted and tainted. as blood drips down the both of you, he wraps his arms around you more tightly, burying his face in your neck as he whispers into your ear.

"i love you too, princess,” he whispers back, not caring about the dried blood coating you both, "also, wait, where is your victim? did anyone see you? please tell me you were careful, baby."

"i destroyed his body parts already, don't worry. no one saw me."

"thank god.. or should i say thank you?" leon replies with a cheeky grin. to him, you are god. you are a religion. you are a deity who visits him in his dreams and treats him like her beloved human pet. he looks at you for a moment, his eyes trailing over your body, the dried blood of your previous victims making you look even more beautiful to him. god, you are so fucking pretty to him.

"though, i do need your help destroying evidence.." your fingers draw sweet little hearts onto his back once you throw his dress shirt off entirely, but he's certain your bloody hearts left literal, physical drawings on his skin. you are so fucking deranged and he adores you.

"i can help you with anything," he murmurs, leaning his head down to plant kiss after kiss on your neck, “that’s what i’m here for, baby.”

every trace of your blood-stained heart has been embedded and melded into his skin, like a stain that can never be washed out with bleach. he loves his psycho princess.

"but i don't want to think about that right now," you lean your head on his shoulder, "i just wanna be here with you.."

leon nods, enjoying the feeling of your head pressed onto him, the warmth from your body radiating gently, "i know, i know, baby," he says softly, "no worrying right now, just you and i."

after a moment of peace and calm, you perk your head up suddenly, a contemplative look on his face, "do you think... will i ever go to prison?"

leon chuckles, shaking his head as he continues stroking your hair, "no, you won't," he replies confidently, "not as long as i'm around, and i'm not going anywhere. i'll always keep you safe and make sure you're never caught."

leon feels the weight of your worries melt away from you. he enjoys being the one to calm you, tame you in a way. you are a monster, but with him, you’re his sweet girl with her.. mildly disturbing hobbies.

"you’ll be okay," he says gently, "i mean, if anyone does find evidence pointing to you, i'll get rid of it before it can even be used. i'm not going to let anyone come between us.”

“yeah?”

“you’re stuck with me forever, princess. i’ll make sure you never spend even one night in a jail cell. only the most comfortable living arrangements for my baby.”

you chuckle, pressing sweet kisses to his neck, “you’re the one that’s stuck with me. who knows? maybe my thirst for blood will include you some day.”

leon laughs, his body trembling slightly at your sweet kisses against his neck, he doesn't even want to think about the possibility of you deciding to kill him one day, but he also knows that it's not an impossibility. he swallows the lump in his throat and decides it's better to just push that thought away for now.

the worst part is… he knows you’d enjoy it. you’d watch the light slowly leave his eyes with glee. makes him nauseous.

"maybe," he says with a teasing tone, but it’s impossible to miss how his voice shakes, "but i'm more valuable to you alive, sweetheart."

“i know, i know.” you giggle, hands digging into the waistband of his fancy velvet slacks, “i just like playing with you. you get so nervous.. it’s cute.”

leon grins in return, but a hint of a nervous chuckle escapes his lips when he feels you start unbuttoning his pants.

he feels his heart rate start to pick up, both from anticipation and a little bit of anxiety, “you like playing with me huh…” he says in a lower, somewhat panting voice, “don’t play with your food, baby. do what you gotta do.”

you smirk, pushing him down onto his office chair, the same one you bought him a couple months ago when he was complaining about his old one. you sit yourself down on his lap, hands resting around the back of his neck, caressing him so sweetly. god, if leon closed his eyes, he could pretend this was normal and you were normal and you were both just two young lovers that adored each other.

his hands grasp your waist and keep you close, as he's afraid you'll leave him. you can't leave him now. not after all he's done for you, to protect you, to save you from yourself. he's ruined himself for you, he's destroyed evidence and burned bodies and lied and lied and lied for you. you can't leave him now.

his psychopath. his monster. his sweet lover. him. you belong to him.

he doesn't understand why you're so gentle with him, but you are and he's grateful, so he doesn't push the subject. when your hands pull at the waistband of his boxers, his eyes become soft and glassy and he rests his head back against the chair. you may do what you please with him at this point.

leon lets out a contented sigh as he relaxes back into the chair, his head leaning against the backrest as he gazes up at you. you are… breathtaking. a beautiful dove covered in her victim’s crimson blood.

your touch is soft and delicate, much different from the usual roughness that you've had with your previous victims. yet he can't complain that you're choosing to be so gentle with him, letting him keep this illusion of you being a normal person, just for a moment.

"can i have you, lee? right here, right now?"

it's almost amusing how normal that question sounds to him. after all this time, after everything he's done for you, after all the murders he's covered up for you, the bodies he's burned and the evidence he's destroyed... it almost makes him chuckle to hear that sentence. it’s remarkable, honestly. you’re vicious and violent and cruel… and you’re asking for consent? how adorable.

"of course," he says softly, his tone slightly pleading and desperate, "please. take me, baby... i'm yours."

you smile sweetly, though the sweetness is undercut by the blood on your face. he would almost assume you're possessed by something demonic if he didn't already know you were evil to begin with, "you make me so happy, baby." you muse gently, "you keep me safe, protect me when i mess up... i'm gonna be your perfect little wife someday."

leon chuckles softly at your words, but there's a part of him that's a little bit terrified. in his mind, he knows that this isn't the beginning of some fairytale romance, and that your intentions aren't quite pure, but he chooses to ignore those thoughts. he's already fallen down such a dark path because of your influence, so what's stopping him from falling a little bit deeper and going all the way down into this fucking madness with you?

"i'll protect you from everything," he replies, his fingers gripping tightly around yours, "nothing will ever hurt you again, my sweet wife. i’ll keep you safe and happy, always.”

"we should get married in a big, beautiful chapel. i don't need a lot of people there, i just want to be there with you."

leon grins, "you'd be happy with just a small wedding?" he asks with a hint of surprise in his voice, "i thought you'd want something big and extravagant to show off to everyone."

“all i need is a pretty dress and you,” you whisper to him.

leon chuckles, brushing your hair out of your face with his hand, his fingers slightly trembling. a part of him can't help but wonder how this would all end: would it actually end happily? with you two walking down the aisle to an altar, exchanging vows? or would it end up with his body buried deep in the woods?

he forces himself to ignore those thoughts, for now he should stay focused on the moment. you look at him so sweetly, so earnestly, so he decides to trust your intentions with him for now.

"i'd love to see you in a beautiful dress," he says softly.

“i would look pretty just for you.”

leon chuckles and squeezes your hand again, it's funny how he can go from fearing you to becoming utterly enamored with you in a matter of moments.

"i have no doubts about that, sweetheart," he replies, "now come here."

you smile as you lean in to kiss him again, hands finally resuming their movements to get into his underwear.

leon lets out a soft groan, his muscles tensing as he feels your hands slip through the fabric of his underwear, pulling out his cock for you to play with, or so he assumes you’ll do. you play with it like it’s a toy, something you can just have fun messing with while he sleeps or before you fuck him. he uses the verbage of ‘you fucking him’ because this is in no way him fucking you… even if it’s his dick. at some point that dick attached to his pelvis became yours..

he wraps his arms tightly around your waist as you begin to caress him. he's just so vulnerable to you, he's yours in every aspect of the word, physically and emotionally. yours, yours, yours.

"i'll be gentle, i promise. i'm just gonna stroke your cock, nice and slow.." you murmur. your touch is warm but teasing, and when you notice the tension in his body, you can't help but giggle, "i can't go too quickly just yet.. can't make you feel too much too soon."

leon chuckles softly, a part of him enjoying this teasing routine. he knows that eventually you'll give him what he wants, so he doesn’t mind waiting. whatever his girl wants, she gets.

"i know" he says panting slightly, "just take your time, princess..."

it's just so hard not to adore him, so malleable and soft, you could mold him into anything you want.

leon's eyes are starting to get hazy, his breath hitching in his throat and his body trembling. your touch is so delicate yet so powerful, it's making his entire body quiver. he’s not even on the edge but he feels like he is. both of your hands jerk him off so slow and sensual, and he knows the only reason they’re moving so smoothing is because your hands still have wet blood on them… which means you’re practically using that guy’s blood as lube and… this is so fucked up. you are so fucked up. you are awful and he can’t wait to make you his wife.

leon’s not necessarily the most submissive man alive, but he does listen well and you always get what you want, so take that as you will. he's always been so easy to mold into whatever you want him to be. he's followed along like a loyal dog, doing everything you ask of him. he's done such despicable things in your name, knowing that at the end of the day, you'll love him enough to keep him by your side.

he feels your thumb massaging his tip and he suppresses a nervous whimper, eyes fluttering closed as he takes in the feeling of your touch. you’re too much of a tease, but leon is patient.

“promise that you’ll always stay with me, lee. promise that you’ll never leave,” you whisper. he doesn’t know why you expect such a deep answer from him when his brain is becoming more and more mushy by the second.

“i promise," he whispers back, still panting slightly from pleasure. “i'm never going to leave you. i'll stay by your side for as long as we're alive. i'll never stop protecting you, loving you"

“i will sink my claws into you and never let you leave,” you growl.

he leans his head back against the chair again, a smile creeping on his lips as he lets out a shuddering breath. "i'm all yours, princess, and i have no desire to be anyone else's."

just as he starts to get close to the edge, riding the fine line of pleasure, you pull your hands away from him. you feel bad for denying him, but you're only doing it so you both can finish together. leon lets out a soft shiver as you tug your hands away, your teasing just making him more and more desperate.

he lets out a tense, groaning sigh as you pull your hands away, a small whimper escaping his lips as you did so. he's so close, but you're not quite ready to let him cum yet.

leon tries his best not to show his disappointment, the build up has been intense and it's frustrating to feel himself denied, but he knows you love it. you love making him desperate, making him beg.

he concedes: this is what you like, so it’s what he likes.

but his disappointment is quickly brushed away as you get up off of him to take off your beautiful bloody dress, and your undergarments too. for all of the blood on your face, neck, chest, and arms, the rest of you is mostly untouched, and he finds the difference rather amusing. your stomach and thighs look so soft and innocent.

he gazes at you lustfully as you remove your clothes, his breath catching in his throat as he stares at your naked body. he can’t think, can’t breathe, his eyes going everywhere they’re not supposed to. he can only try so hard to be a gentleman.

"you.. are going to make me your wife," you say, voice carrying an air of certainty. you are not suggesting. you are telling him what's going to happen, and he will obviously obey, “you’ll buy me a pretty ring. nothing expensive, don’t waste your money on something stupid like a diamond. and you’ll take me on a beautiful honeymoon, and we’ll spend every moment of those days together just fucking like rabbits. understood?”

marriage was never something he considered until you called yourself his ‘pretty little wife’ to be honest, but with the way you're demanding it now... it's something he'd easily give in to, "okay" he finally manages to whisper back, "anything for my beautiful wife."

you smile gently, settling back onto his lap, pussy aching for the cock in front of you, so desperate to fill you up, “you ready, baby?” you ask.

leon nods, his eyes fluttering briefly at your words, “yeah, i'm ready," he mumbles, his breath already short and his heart beating so hard he's surprised that you can't hear it.

you slide him inside, giving yourself a moment to adjust. leon can't help but find the slight discomfort in your face cute.

you moan gently, resting your hands on his shoulders, "o-oh, ah..."

he can hear every soft sound and breath that escapes your lips as you begin to move, and he can't help but let out a soft groan as well. his hands grip tightly around you, tightening every time you moan or gasp.

leon holds onto you for dear life, he knows he's already so close to finishing, he could really blow any second, but the longer this goes, the longer this moment lasts, the more intense it gets. you’re going to kill him one of these days.

"l-lee.." you gasp, hips rocking back and forth, almost circular motions.

"oh god.. baby..." he lets out a tense moan as you ride him, movements gentle but somehow still so overwhelming. his fingertips dig into your shoulders as he tries to keep himself restrained, but he's at the very edge of his control.

every movement sends a jolt through his body, his muscles flexing and releasing with everything he's got to keep himself from finishing before you.

“leon…” you groan again, and he never really realizes the effect he has on you until your body is trembling as you ride his cock. your voice isn’t quite begging, but he almost hears it like that. it sounds like a love confession wrapped up in his name. he doesn’t see it until all of your defenses are down, but you love him so helplessly that it must be scary.

god, he wants to hold you in his arms forever and never let you go. protect his serial killer for the rest of her days.

he lets out another tense, breathy moan as you start to move even faster, you're pushing him to the limit. every sensation that he feels is so intense, he can hardly handle it, it takes every ounce of self-discipline in his body to keep himself from finishing early, but that’s what you get for edging him right before. you put him at a huge disadvantage.

“wait for me..” you whisper, “wanna cum with you..”

he nods his head, his eyes squeezed shut as a trembling breath escapes from his lips. he's trying his hardest to wait for you to finish, the urges and sensations within him are overwhelming and he feels as though he might explode at any moment.

and he does unfortunately, just a moment early, but it kick-starts your orgasm so for the most part, you’re both gasping and moaning and breathing fast and shaky and helpless together, hands grasping at any skin they can reach as you’re pulled ever closer to him. he sticks his head into the crook of your neck as your pretty pussy squeezes around him. he feels breathless and helpless, holding you like he’d die without you. he feels your heavy breath and your hands tightly gripping him, you must be completely gone, orgasm hitting you in waves that squeeze every drop of cum out of him.

you’re his, he realizes. completely, utterly his. you need him. you can’t go on without leon and there is nothing more pleasing than being your lifeline. your face makes that cute little pout, dried bloody fingers making his shoulders red, but this time it might just be his blood. your nails are digging into him, but he can’t blame you. you’re too lost in pleasure to realize what you’re doing.

once you both start to slow and calm down, breathing returning to a more normal pace, you lean down to rest your head on his chest.

after a moment, you ask him, “are you really gonna marry me?”

“mhm,” he hums, fingers brushing against your head, licking his thumb to try and rub off the dried blood on your forehead, “i'll get you a ring and get down on one knee and everything.”

“what will our wedding be like?”

“whatever you want, princess,” he closes his eyes, “i don't have a single care in the world about what flowers you pick or if you want to invite people or if you just want it to be us two and an officiant in the empty wedding chapel. i just want to call you my wife. my sweet, pretty wife. my girl. my only love.”

you giggle, nuzzling closer into his chest, “detective kennedy. my husband,” you grin cutely, “my leon. mine.”

burgundy drips from his fingertips as he brushes them against your cheek, “yours.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #sub!leon #moon.dc #moon.g #resident evil x reader #resident evil leon #resident evil imagines

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coulsart · 2 months

Text

About the Unknown

I have a theory. A game theory. And we're going to ignore the fact that delving into this would put me on the Unknown's shit list IMMEDIATELY. It’s fine.

Disclaimer: I do not know what’s canon, and they kept it intentionally vague. Everyone’s valid to have their head canons and this is just the explanation my brain conjured up.

"The Unknown was believed to be a mysterious evil so heinous that investigating it almost immediately invited death. At least that was how the story went. And there were many stories. One story was of a woman in Greenville who disappeared without a trace on stage in front of a room full of witnesses. Her friend disappeared weeks later while trying to investigate what happened. The police were stumped. They had no clues or leads, and that mystery created the perfect storm for amplifying and spreading an urban legend." An excerpt from the very beginning of the official lore page

I want to focus on a few key words here. It was believed to be heinously evil. There were stories about disappearances. Said mysterious stories spread and amplified the urban legend.

The Unknown gains power from people's beliefs and thoughts about it. Not too unlike Pennywise from 'IT'. But there's a catch.

People theorize that it might be an alien, a curse, a cult-created abomination, or just a really elusive serial killer... but it is all of those things. Because people believe that it is.

It doesn't have control over what it is. It's a horrible hodge-podge monstrosity of many things, seemingly mashed and twisted together violently. It likely started as something completely different, or nothing at all. Maybe a vague presence that only observed. But people could feel the presence. And while neither good nor evil, the peoples' minds conjured up visions, explanations of what it might be. Some imagined it to be a man lurking in the shadows. Watching and stalking them. And so the Unknown's body began to form. First as a man. Even still, with this new body, it was inherently off. Uncanny from the start. The Unknown was at its core so far removed from humanity that it still could not pass as one of us. So it would linger in the forest, only venturing to the threshold between town and woods.

Maybe an unfortunate camper happened upon it at night. This shadow in the dark, distinctly the shape of a man. But what does one think first, encountering a strange man in the dead of night? All alone and isolated in the deep woods?

"He's going to kill me with a knife, or an ax!"

And so it did. Because they believed it would.

It only snowballed from there, after the body was found, only a few paces away from their untouched tent. There was no evidence left. No DNA, no footprints to follow. Just a bloodied body, with a skull cloven almost completely in twain; by what was suspected to be an ax. So the theories began.

No one could explain the lack of evidence left behind. It was too perfect, too efficient. And what were the chances of a normal man doing such damage in only a single swing?

More murders followed. At first, people started disappearing, their bodies later being found in the woods, not far from the first victim. They grew increasingly more mangled, to the point that authorities began to question whether it was done by a man, or an animal.

The people became afraid. Paranoid that this insane ax murderer would tire of the woods and enter their homes at night, while they were resting peacefully in bed. The fears were beginning to surpass that of just a serial killer. The Unknown was beginning to become more of a boogeyman figure to them. No human man could have committed such gruesome killings.

People began to disappear from their homes at night. Then the streets. Then the cafe and theater. Then... sometimes in broad daylight. Its territory only grew. Its abilities more and more vast and unpredictable. The theories only escalated... and throughout its rampage, the Unknown grew increasingly monstrous. Its humanoid body twisted and contorted to fit the peoples' beliefs. But nothing was erased - only added on. Which is why it existed in the horrific state that it did.

A body can only fit so much substance inside without tearing itself apart. Without becoming an deformed, unstable, and agonizing vessel to pilot and exist in.

Human beings did this to it. Human beings made what it was. They assumed the worst of it, and it became that.

So naturally, it became hateful and bitter. It loathes humans. They did this. It lives in constant agony and isolation because of them... only for the crime of observing and existing in their vicinity. That's why it killed the ones who dive deeper into its existence and theorize about what it is. They kept making it worse. Inflicting more pain upon it and twisting its body further and further.

It mirrors humans' own words to them. Snippets of conversation, pleas for help. It does not truly have its own voice. It only has what others have spoken about it, and around it.

But its feelings towards human beings are clear, based on its words. Especially in its memento mori. "The terror. The horror. Terribly frightening, isn't it." The way it parrots their words in this case almost seems vindictive and sarcastic. These are all things that human beings have said about it.

Thought outside of what it's been made into became increasingly difficult. Yet, somehow, the Unknown is vaguely aware of this fact: it could have been spared this horrific existence, had human beings chosen differently.

And for the Unknown, it only got worse when the Entity stole it away. It begged and pleaded for help - ironically, seeking it from that which it loathed most. A human being. It was torn from our world and plunged into the never ending loop that are Her trials. All for the sake of feeding Her appetite for suffering and torment. And it isn't only at the survivors' expense. It is at the expense of the Unknown as well. It suffers just as much as they... if not more. They at least have companions to rely on - with varying results, of course. It has nobody.

All hope for it healing is lost. The survivors have no reason not to think it a ruthless, horrific monster. And in turn, it has no reason not to hate and slaughter them.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#couls art #theory #dbd #dead by daylight #the unknown #the unknown dbd #body horror #horror #gore #death mention #death #tw #long post #TRAGIC MONSTER IS MY SAUCE OK #IM REALLY PROUD OF THIS #also the pics are glazed and nightshaded so i hope they dont look too weird #itd be kewl if the devs saw this

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gragrace · 2 months

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Not so Happy Valentines

Summary: Spencer and Y/N’s Valentine’s Day plans are interrupted to catch a serial killer.

Word Count: 870

AN: Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m sick and wrote this quickly, hope you enjoy 🩷 this is totally cringe but what is love if not cringe🩷

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

As the BAU rushed to respond to the urgent case, Y/N couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment. Valentine's Day had arrived, and the romantic plans she had envisioned with Spencer had been abruptly interrupted by the call of duty.

In the jet, Y/N stole a glance at Spencer, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I was really looking forward to spending Valentine's Day with just you," she confessed, her eyes reflecting a hint of longing.

Spencer reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "I know, Y/N. I was too. But duty calls, and we'll make it up to each other, I promise."

During the investigation, Garcia noticed Y/N’s subdued mood. Sensing her friend's disappointment, Garcia affectionately called her "toots," offering words of encouragement. "Don't worry, Yn. We'll catch this unsub, and you'll have your cozy make-up Valentine's Day evening."

As the case unfolded like a sinister Valentine's Day nightmare, Spencer Reid's analytical mind delved into the twisted history of the perpetrator. His brow furrowed as he connected the dots, realizing the disturbing pattern of a chillingly methodical serial killer who exclusively struck on Valentine's Day.

"The level of planning and symbolism involved is astounding," Spencer commented, his voice reflecting a mix of fascination and repulsion. "It's as if the unsub sees Valentine's Day as the ultimate canvas for their heinous acts."

Y/N, standing by his side, felt the weight of the symbolism seeping into the investigation. The unsettling connection between the victims and the romantic holiday struck a chord, and her determination to bring justice intensified.

As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Spencer's keen observations complemented Yn's relentless pursuit of the truth. "This unsub is calculating, methodical, and strangely fixated on Valentine's Day. It's not just about the act; it's about the message they want to convey through it," he mused, the wheels of his brilliant mind turning.

Y/N, fueled by a mix of determination and a desire for justice, played a crucial role in piecing together the final elements that led to the unsub's identification.

In the intensity of the investigation, the team's collective efforts brought them closer to understanding the intricate planning behind each Valentine's Day murder. The unsub's chilling obsession with the holiday became clearer, and Spencer couldn't help but marvel at the dark psychology driving their gruesome acts.

As the team closed in on the killer, Y/N’s determination reached its peak. Spencer, acknowledging her resilience, added, "We're on the right track, Y/N. The unsub won't escape justice, especially with your commitment to uncovering the truth."

When justice was finally served, the weight lifted from Y/N’s shoulders. The symbolism of the killer's reign of terror over Valentine's Day dissipated, leaving room for healing and closure. As she was on the way to her apartment with Spencer, the air was lighter, and the couple found solace in the fact that they had not only cracked the case but also reclaimed the essence of love that the killer had sought to extinguish.

Upon returning to their apartment, Y/N was pleasantly surprised to find a romantic setup awaiting them. A candlelit dinner adorned the table, a cold bottle of wine chilling, and her favorite show queued up on the television. Spencer smiled, knowing he had a lot to make up for.

As Spencer wrapped his arms around her, the soft glow of candlelight illuminated their shared space. The lingering scent of a carefully prepared dinner filled the room, creating an atmosphere that felt both romantic and intimate.

"Happy belated Valentine's Day, love," Spencer whispered, his eyes reflecting sincerity and love. Y/N’s heart fluttered as she looked into his warm gaze, appreciating the effort he had put into making this evening special despite the unexpected turn of events.

The dinner table, adorned with delicate flowers and elegant settings, invited them to share a moment of quiet celebration. Spencer pulled out a chair for Yn, his gestures both tender and thoughtful. As they sat down, he poured a glass of the chilled wine that awaited them, toasting to the resilience of their love.

With each bite of the carefully crafted meal, Y/N felt the warmth of Spencer's affection enveloping her. He had recreated the atmosphere they had missed on Valentine's Day, turning their home into a haven of love and understanding. Spencer, always known for his intellect, had managed to translate his intelligence into the language of romance, creating a night that felt truly special.

After dinner, they settled on the couch to watch Y/N’s favorite show. Spencer had taken note of every detail, from the cozy blankets to the choice of episodes. As they snuggled together, Y/N couldn't help but appreciate the thoughtfulness that had gone into every aspect of the evening.

In that shared moment, they realized that love was more than a single day on the calendar. It was the countless gestures, both big and small, that wove the fabric of their relationship. Spencer, ever the romantic, spoke softly, "Every day with you is worth celebrating, Y/N. I love you."

With those words, they sealed the evening with a sweet kiss, savoring the joy of being together, grateful for a love that transcended the confines of a single day on the calendar.

#mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #valentines day #happy valentine's day

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dollveis · 9 months

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wanting to have the most nasty, brutal, violent, ruthless, vile, horrid, heinous, barbaric, gruesome, diabolical, beastly, savage, vicious, inhumane, monstrous, unethical, ferocious, egregious, fiendish, hellish, uncivilized sex with her.

#=͟͟͞⚝ 𝐯𝐢 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 !#need her bad #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #the last of us #tlou2

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sagewritings · 5 months

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Silent Rebel - Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

pairing: young coriolanus snow x female reader

synopsis: despite being raised in the capitol among individuals driven by a thirst for power and violence, your desire to reform the system grew stronger with time. upon graduating, you swiftly initiated your plans for change. however, executing these plans becomes a challenge when you accidentally catch the vigilant gaze of coriolanus snow.

word count: 1.5k

warnings/tags: mentions of death and violence

a/n: hello everyone! it’s been a while since i’ve posted here on my blog because of college and as an apology, i’m posting 2 fics for yall! i just recently watched the ballad of songbirds and snakes and i haven’t stopped thinking about tom blyth since then. also i’m thinking of rewriting this fic into something longer and more detailed so lmk what you think :>

the other fanfic is about finnick odair so if you’d like to check that out (as well as my other works) you can check the pinned post in my blog :)

i hope you’ll like this one! happy reading!

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

The Capitol's grandeur stretched like an unending expanse under the perpetual sun, casting shadows that danced across its facade. Coriolanus Snow, now a phoenix risen from the ashes of exile, bore the scars of Doctor Gaul's mysterious experiments that had purged him, or so it seemed, of the rebellion's cunning influence. Yet, as he trained meticulously for the position of game maker, a new hunger for power gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

You, on the other hand, have come from one of the wealthiest Capitol families. Freshly graduated from the prestigious university, your eyes were pried open to the injustices perpetrated by the annual Hunger Games. To you, the ritual appeared not only senseless but also a gruesome spectacle, a parade of innocent children's demise for the Capitol's entertainment.

Motivated by an unquenchable desire for change, you secured employment under Coriolanus Snow, tasked with a covert and life-threatening mission: gather evidence of the heinous atrocities committed during the Games and expose them to the oblivious citizens of the Capitol and the oppressed districts.

Months passed, and you meticulously documented the games' ruthlessness. Coriolanus, a master tactician, did not have trouble sensing what you were trying to do.

One day, as you compiled the thick notes in your small office, the door groaned open. There stood Coriolanus Snow, an unreadable expression painted across his face.

"What are you doing?" he inquired, his voice rigid and steady.

You looked up, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. "Just routine work, sir. Managing the games."

Coriolanus's eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam piercing through them. "I know what you're up to, Y/n. Trying to expose the Games, reveal the injustices. I won't allow it."

Panic set in, but you skillfully maintained a calmed image. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

Leaning in, his voice now a menacing whisper, Coriolanus intoned, "I suggest you reconsider your actions. If you persist, your family will pay the price. I have ways of ensuring they suffer."

Fear seized your heart. The safety of your family became an immediate concern, and the thought of their potential harm under Coriolanus's influence was unbearable. Reluctantly, you nodded, silently acknowledging the looming threat.

Months passed and you continued your subversive work under the hawk-like gaze of Coriolanus Snow. The ledger of injustices stacked up, the ruthlessness of the games meticulously detailed in your notes. Yet, the weight of your silence became increasingly drowning.

As the Reaping ceremony for the 11th Hunger Games approached, a tidal wave of anger surged within you. The oblivious citizens of the Capitol reveled in the spectacle while innocent lives were put on the line. A few more cheers and praises, and you could no longer contain the seething rage within.

In the climax of the ceremony, as the tributes' names echoed through the theater, you erupted and aimed your anger at the nearest individuals. "This is senseless! You're all cheering for the deaths of children! Have you no humanity left?"

The Capitol citizens stared, a cocktail of shock and disdain painted on their faces. Coriolanus Snow, observing from a calculated distance, felt a spark of intrigue. The fire in your eyes ignited something within him—a curiosity that cut through the cold layers encasing his soul.

Post-ceremony, he summoned you to his office. The air was thick with tension as you entered, unsure of the impending reckoning.

"What was that outburst?" he demanded, his gaze penetrating your very core.

You took a deep breath, the ember of anger still smoldering beneath the surface. "I can't stand by and watch the Capitol revel in the deaths of innocent children. It's inhumane, and I won't be part of it any longer."

Coriolanus regarded you with a calculating gaze, his mind working overtime to decipher the emotions playing across your face. In that moment, the power dynamic between you shifted. You, once submissive under the weight of fear, now stood before him with a resolve that both intrigued and unsettled him.

Days stretched into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Coriolanus found himself studying you closely. The once compliant heiress had become a thorn in his side, yet there was an inexplicable allure in the fire that blazed within your eyes. The darkness within him, even for a fleeting moment, softened as he observed the sincerity in your actions.

One evening, as the Capitol vibrated with anticipation for the 12th Hunger Games, Coriolanus sought you out. The ensuing conversation was unlike any that had transpired before.

"You're different," he remarked, his tone almost conversational.

You met his gaze, a cocktail of defiance and exhaustion mirrored in your eyes. "Maybe I am. Maybe the Capitol needs to change."

Coriolanus chuckled, the sound laced with a bitter edge. "Change? In the Capitol? That's wishful thinking, Y/n.”

Yet, as the night wore on, an unexpected camaraderie developed between you and Coriolanus. The formidable walls he had built around himself seemed to crumble, if only for a fleeting moment. The bitterness that had defined him gave way to a vulnerability he hadn't allowed himself to embrace in years.

In the days leading up to the Hunger Games, you found yourself trapped in a delicate dance with Coriolanus Snow. The man who had once blackmailed you now grappled with his own internal demons, and you became an unwitting witness to a facet of him that few had glimpsed.

As the new set of tributes entered the arena, you couldn't shake the weight that settled in your heart. The Capitol's insatiable appetite for violence, the games transformed into a grotesque tradition—each element bore down upon you. The arena, symbolic of despair, stood as a stark reminder of the darkness entrenched within the very fabric of the Capitol.

In a rare moment of solitude, Coriolanus found you gazing out of a window. His presence, once a source of terror, now felt oddly reassuring.

"You're not the only one questioning the system," he confessed, his voice a low murmur.

You turned to him, surprise evident across your features. "What do you mean?"

Coriolanus sighed, weariness etched into the lines of his face. "The Hunger Games, the Capitol's insatiable hunger for power—it's all a game. A game that consumes everyone, even those who believe they're in control."

The vulnerability in his words resonated with you, a shared understanding of the stifling reality enveloping the Capitol.

As the Games unfolded, the brutality played out on screens across the Capitol. The once-deafening cheers now echoed hollowly. The tributes' struggles, their pain, became a haunting reminder of the cost of the Capitol's insatiable appetite for entertainment.

In a quiet moment between you and Coriolanus, as the tributes faced insurmountable challenges, he spoke, his voice softer than before. "Maybe you're right. Maybe there's no purpose in this. But what can we do? The Capitol thrives on its own cruelty."

The admission caught you off guard. Coriolanus Snow, the orchestrator of the Games, seemed to accept a truth he had long suppressed.

Days turned into nights, and the 12th Hunger Games concluded with the predictable exhibition of victory and defeat. The Capitol moved forward, its citizens eagerly anticipating the next spectacle. However, within the very heart of the Capitol, a subtle shift had transpired.

Coriolanus Snow, once engulfed by an uncontrolled hunger for power, found himself ensnared in a complex dance with you. The darkness that had defined him wavered, if only momentarily, in the face of a reality he could no longer avoid. As the Capitol plunged into preparations for the next set of Hunger Games, you and Coriolanus navigated a precarious balance.

In a clandestine moment, away from prying eyes, Coriolanus spoke, his voice bearing a trace of sincerity. "You've made me question things, Y/n. The Games, the Capitol—I can't escape the truth anymore."

You regarded him with a mix of astonishment and skepticism. "And what does that mean for you?"

Coriolanus sighed, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "I don't know. But I can't keep playing this game. There has to be a way to change things, even if it's just a little."

The admission lingered in the air, a fragile acknowledgment of a truth long concealed. The Capitol, with its gilded exterior, appeared less invincible in that fleeting moment.

As the days unfolded, Coriolanus Snow embarked on a path unforeseen, diverging from the relentless pursuit of power. The Hunger Games, once a symbol of his ascension, now stood as a haunting reminder of the darkness that permeated the Capitol.

The journey had merely commenced, and the road ahead remained shrouded in uncertainty. Within the intricate tapestry of power and rebellion, a spark of humanity flickered. The man who had once manipulated you had begun to question the very system he had upheld.

As you and Coriolanus confronted an uncertain future, the foundations of the Capitol quivered. The dance between power and resistance persisted, and within the very heart of the Capitol, a nuanced revolution commenced subtly.

The Capitol, with its towering structures and glittering facade, stood as both a testament to opulence and a stark reminder of the shadows lurking beneath.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #young coriolanus snow #tbosas #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #president snow

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madamesinsalot · 11 months

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What if...

Moon completely accepts the insanity, the sadistic nature, and bloodthirstiness of the retched virus? He relishes in maniacally guarding their home while maiming every unwanted guest that enters the forbidden areas he and Sun’s claimed over time, that much is true. If that was the case though... how did he end up like this?

Ayooo! i finally FINALLY made part 2 of this snippet! I’m tempted to continue the story I’ve kept planning so far should you guys want it! :D please enjoy!

Here’s Sun’s Version, the beginning!

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When you first met Moon after forgetting your belongings one unnerving evening. You expected a lot of mishaps to arise like Chica’s munching escapades, or STAFF bots entering the weirdest areas of the plex. What you’ve never expected was the Lunar animatronic hunched over numerous wrecked robot parts, spasming heavily over the gruesome scene while clutching his wire-exposed spasming arm. From the cryptic warnings your uncle has reminded you of, the jester had every opportunity to throw you out for intruding the facility afterhours, especially when you were caught looking. Yet, instead of enacting the heinous deeds that were described to you... the glitching bot merely guided you out the front doors with only a calm wave, items returned, and that unreadable default smile.

You knew then and there that you had to know more about this msyterious character.

You remember the earful you had gotten from your Uncle the day after. It was brutal. Though you were a tad guilty and apologetic to the old man, your curiosity was far greater just from the reminder of that evening. In fact, it was the sole reason why you started visiting the daycare more frequently ever since. At first, the Moon-like automation was courteous, but wary. Sun moreso. Then that apprehension quickly melted away once they realized you’ve never bared any ill-will since speaking to them. Moon was especially forthcoming towards creating a bond at that point for some unexplained reason. And while you had theories, it didn’t bother you more than the worried glances your Uncle would give you at the mention of the attendant.

Goodness did he want to tell you everything. The unsolved murders both robotic and human, the faulty machinery they’d manipulate to spend more time with you, even the intentional spastic sparks that would shoot out of Moon all the time as a failsafe to talk to you. But the biggest and most troublesome aspect that your stoic Uncle would battle with was the lunar bot’s skilled evasions to getting caught and or decommissioned by the man himself.

Every piece of security footage, any type of recording depicting the attendant in anyway, or written notes your relative would make and stash away would usually end up getting destroyed; sometimes marked off as false information by the higher ups. All of that was Moon’s doing. Sun is the more dangerous, violent, and volatile of the caretaker AI while his counterpart prepared alibis and well-timed distractions, making the sunny jester open to whatever plan he’d receive in their coding to appear inviting and innocent to the public according to Moon’s plan. They made an efficiently menacing team, much to your Uncle’s chagrin.

It quickly became clear that things would be increasingly difficult since your arrival at the Pizza Plex. The wily night-themed animatronic had definitely caught on to your familial relation to the Janitor, taking any advantage to heighten your Uncle’s personal hell. This was especially true when you ended up being romantically pursued by the celestial duo themselves. Improvised dances, mutual petnames and long-lasting hugs were part of his own personal torture, and your own unaware bliss.

The moment... the absolute moment that your Uncle discovered he had truly lost you to the Daycare Attendant, was a seemingly normal night when he finished cleaning the last of the security rooms. He always made sure to find you before completely leaving the premises so as to carpool back to your respective homes, totally not to drag you away from the murder crazy jester. Not at all. Doing so also meant going to the daycare much to his exhaustion. It wasn’t a secret among the rest of the employees that you spend all of your free time there. That night though, things were different. The daycare was dark when the perimeter was brightly lit up. Wandering in, your Uncle fished out his flashlight, taking cautious step after cautious step through the cushioning and calling your name with absolute caution and vigilance. He would even flash his light in every direction when he came across the security desk, with every monitor and screen having been deactivated. An obvious omen. Ducking underneath the bridge led him the display forever seared into his mind. You were peacefully sleeping among pillows and a glowing star-clad lap. Surrounding you... or rather towering over you, was the ominous Moon animatronic. he jerkingly etched huge tears into the fabric of the foam padding. Whether it was due to the glitch, or the flashlight in your Uncle’s hand, the man wasn’t so sure. The sparks flying out of the bot flew out of different parts of the animatronic... it was probably the main reason you ultimately came to the daycare this late at night. Moon’s face though... was less than inviting when he glanced into those hostile eyes.

Seeing that made your Uncle reluctantly stay away within a nearby security room and watch over you through the security cameras for the rest of that night until you woke up hours later. The crazed machine was not helping matters when glaring at the every mounted camera in the Daycare’s vicinity. It wasn’t because he was scared of the lunar nightguard. Not really. No, the real reason he did it was because of the jester’s resolve... it was possessive. Dangerously so. If he hadn’t had years of dealing with their heinous acts to the point of gathering a psychological profile for each alter, he would’ve thought Moon was... protecting you. But that’s impossible! It can’t be true.

Can it?

Safe to say... That question was enough incentive to help your Uncle to stay awake that night... and every evening after that.

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AAAHHHHHHH! I missed you guys SO MUCH! Many things were happening in my hectic life that I had to go away for... yeesh, over a month??? Now that the stress has died down, I’m more than ready to get back into creating that sweet Sun and Moon content again. I’ll start with this and finishing up that Sun’s confession comic. I’ll see you guys until then! Love y’all!

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ioveartfilm · 17 days

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TRACES

The Nanami Kento you once knew exuded vitality, his eyes radiating with anticipation for each new dawn. His charming presence was characterized by his lustrous blonde locks, striking stature, and deep brown orbs. A paragon of confidence and strength, he was esteemed by all who knew him. He was the epitome of perfection, and you consider yourself incredibly fortunate to have him by your side. Enveloped in his protective embrace, while he shields you from the outside world. Or that’s what you thought. As you soon came to realize, this perfect illusion was designated to unravel before your very eyes.

The gruesome sight staining his hands halted any coherent thought of forming, his gaze ensnared by the visceral hue of crimson. No, it was an accident— he had no control whatsoever. He dashed to his restroom, scrubbing off the blood of him till his skin screamed in protest. Yet, upon meeting his reflection, a sinister metamorphosis overtook him. The man staring back at him bore an icy, remorseless expression.

“Should have let him perish, he deserved nothing less.”

With a quickened breath, Nanami shattered the mirror, the shards falling into the sink below. Terror holds him hostage, as realization sinks in. It was undeniable, an unknown malevolent entity rested inside him.

Gojo Satoru his confidant has spent his days looking out for his well-being, noticing every small detail of his new behavior. He noticed his quiet demeanor when he usually spoke his mind without hesitation. Nanami is grateful for his confidant’s friendship, but unable to place his burdens upon him. Deciding is the best if he just remains quiet. Days elapsed, and the malevolent presence within him seemed to abate. He presumed it a denouement, a mere transient episode of mental perturbation. However, when his associates extended an invitation for libations, the trajectory of events took a dire turn. Recollection of that fateful night eluded him, shrouded in a veil of amnesia despite the paltry consumption of spirits. What compounded the enigma was awakening to find himself supine upon the floor of his domicile. A knock resounded at his place, pulling him out of his thoughts. Trying to make his appearance presentable he proceeded to admit the unexpected visitor. The words spoken barely registered in his awareness before he found himself arrested.

“You're under arrest for the murder of Mr. Wright.” Nanami's mind reeled with disbelief as the weight of the accusation settled upon him like a heavy shroud. His thoughts raced, grappling with the implausibility of the situation. Murder—an act so abhorrent and antithetical to his very being—laid at his feet like a damning verdict. It was an accusation that struck at the core of his identity, shattering the illusion of certainty and plunging him into a maelstrom of doubt and confusion. He was not capable of such heinous deeds, his conscience untainted by the stain of bloodshed. The accusation was a cruel twist of fate, unable to grasp his reality. There has to be someone who can speak out for him, to clarify he wasn't a murderer. That is it, Satoru. As soon as news of his friend's arrest reached Satoru, he wasted no time in rushing to his side, determined to uncover the truth behind the accusations leveled against him.

“I am innocent of this accusation. I beseech you, have faith in my words. No one seems to believe me!”

Satoru swiftly offered his assurance, “I place my trust in your innocence, Nanami. Yet, this perplexing affair troubles me deeply. Do you retain any recollection whatsoever?”

Regrettably, Nanami shook his head, his tone tinged with a sense of defeat. “I'm afraid not. I recall nothing, not even my return home. However, you were present, were you not? There must be some piece of information within your grasp that can vindicate me.”

Nanami was taken aback when Satoru's worried expression transformed into one of stoic resolve. “You truly don't recall anything at all?” Satoru questioned.

His brows furrowed in confusion, not quite understanding what his friend was implying. “What do you mean? Are you suggesting I'm involved in this crime without even knowing it?”

Satoru emitted a subdued laugh, his azure gaze deepening, seeming to penetrate Nanami's innermost thoughts. “You believe I wouldn't notice it.” Nanami's heart plummeted at this discernment.

Undeterred, Satoru pressed on, “Ah, spare me that expression. You are well aware of my words.”

His towering figure loomed over the confinement of the iron bars, casting a formidable presence as he fixed his gaze upon Nanami, his countenance inscrutable. “You and I, my dear friend, share a semblance.” He intoned with a detached air. “I once believed I alone harbored such thoughts, but it appears I was mistaken. You, too, possess the same inclinations as I do.” Then in a moment of contemplation, he acknowledged a broader truth. “However, it is not solely confined to you and me. Every man is born evil, trapped in a web of arrogance, pride, lust, greed, and envy. Some of them are foolish enough to be caught in their acts while the other part navigate the treacherous waters of deceit with finesse.” With a note of sagacity, he addressed the man before him. “Ah, my esteemed confidant, I discern the evil that lurks within your being, a mirrored reflection of my own.”

The trust Nanami once held for his companion shattered in an instant, his fingers clenching the cold metal bars as he returned the man's penetrating stare. “What have you done?”

Satoru's demeanor remained unchanged, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he withdrew a delicate dagger from within his coat, its blade adorned with crimson stains, still glistening as if fresh. “Does recollection begin to dawn upon you?” he inquired with a sardonic smirk, as he deftly manipulated the glinting steel between his fingers. A veil of forgotten memories began to lift, revealing glimpses of a fateful evening. Nanami's mind stirred with recollection he recalls seeing his friend's back and dagger between his fingers as he stared down at a body on the floor of his place. They had been summoned for a drink after a long day of labor, only to find themselves later on within the confines of Nanami's place. His boss, in his perpetual demand for more labor, had incited frustration within Nanami, who wishes to work less to see you more often. He doesn't recall the exact moment the dagger lay on his hand or the moment the dagger pierced through his boss's chest. Though the shadow of murderous intent had long haunted his thoughts, he knew he waas incapable of doing such an act.

Satoru seized the dagger from his friend's grasp, a smirk dancing upon his lips. “Do not harbor shame.” He declared, his voice tinged with disdain. “He was a wretched individual.” With a swift turn, he knelt beside the writhing form of their fallen boss, who lay in a pool of crimson. Without a hint of remorse, Satoru plunged the dagger into the already open wound with ruthless precision. As the deed was done, Satoru rose to his feet, making his way towards his friend who has still a vacant stare.

“I shall take this dagger with me," Satoru declared, turning to depart from Nanami's residence, seemingly unbothered by the corpse lying nearby.

Back in the present, Nanami's eyes widened in disbelief as he looked at his friend, a tumult of emotions swirling within him. “Why?” He questioned, his voice tinged with a blend of incredulity and ire. “Why would you make me do such a monstrous act?”

“(Y/N)” Satoru responded unfazed. Satoru's response was met with a mixture of shock and betrayal from Nanami. “(Y/N)?” he echoed, the name resonating with disbelief. “My fiancée.” He muttered, as the realization hit him like a bolt from the blue. Now everything makes sense.

Satoru nodded, his expression unyielding. “Yes, (Y/N). I've desired her for so long, now with you out of the way. I can finally have her.” He admitted coolly his sins, his words dripping with a sense of calculated intent. It all falls into place now. He planned this entire scenario to get ride of him so that he could claim you for himself.

As Satoru was escorted out by the officers, a facade of concern painted his features, his smile devoid of warmth, placing a mask upon himself, hiding his true twisted intentions. “I will do everything in my power to prove your innocence, my friend. You have my word.” He declared, his voice dripping with false reassurance.

Nanami's voice echoed through the cell as he shouted after Satoru, his words laced with determination and anger. “I will not let you get away with this! I will find a way out of here, and I will follow you like a shadow, even if it's the last thing I do!”

When news of your beloved's arrest reached your ears, disbelief and anguish gripped your heart, and tears flowed freely down your cheeks like torrents. Seeking solace, you sought refuge in Satoru's comforting embrace, finding sanctuary in his reassuring presence. As you wept in his arms, Satoru whispered words of reassurance and comfort, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered spirit. “There is nothing to fear, my love.” He whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture of comfort. “I am by your side, and together we shall navigate this ordeal.”

As the years stretched on, the once-ardent correspondence between you and your beloved dwindled to naught, leaving Nanami's heart heavy with a sense of betrayal. Each unanswered letter served as a dagger to his soul, piercing through layers of love and devotion until all that turned into a cauldron of rage and resentment. Buried beneath the weight of his own anguish, Nanami's love for you withered and died, replaced by a consuming thirst for vengeance. Now as he stands as a free man Nanami's resolve burns with intensity. No longer the gentle soul who once professed undying love, he had transformed into a vessel of wrath, his heart consumed by the fires of vengeance. He vowed to exact his revenge upon the man who had torn him apart, sparing no mercy.

𝐅𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 ?

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muwapsturniolo · 2 months

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✯Malevolent PT. 3✯

Black!reader

pt1 pt2

summary: Turns out I'm living in a horror film Where I'm both the killer and the final girl. So who, who are you?

In the small town of Somerville Massachusetts, a bloodbath is brewing, and Y/N Lyoncourt is in the middle of it.

games played with cell phones, gruesome murders, and scary movies

how will she survive?

warning: swearing, stalking, knives, mentions of organs. death, murder, attempted murder. read at your own risk.

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"You sure your mom is ok with me staying over?" Y/n questions as she walks around the kitchen. She had gotten home from school an hour ago, enjoying her time alone in the big blue house.

"Yes! I told you like a million times already! She just doesn't want you home alone while your dad is gone." She sighed at the thought.

Her dad claimed he had a business trip for the whole weekend when in reality, he's lying. The anniversary of her mom's death is coming up and because Y/n looks so much like her, he can't stand to be around her.

"Tell her I said thanks."

"Hey, you ok?'' Buddy asks in concern.

Y/n rubs over her face in frustration, "Yeah...Yeah, I'm good. See you at 7?"

"Yup."

She hangs up the phone and drops it on the counter.

Y/n rushes down the stairs with her overnight bag in hand, dropping it by the door. Swinging open the hall closet, she pulls out her jacket.

As she closes the door, she gets a chill up her spine.

The whole house is quiet.

"When is it not," she mumbles to herself. She shakes her nerves and flops onto the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on to the TV.

As soon as it flickers on, she's met with the face of a young reporter.

"An entire town shocked by the murders of two tee-flick"

She changes the channel, "The state bureau of investigations has partnered with local authorities to help catch what most have called-flick"

She changes the channel once again, only to land on Denise Jones. "This is not the first time the small town of Somerville has experienced such heinous crimes. Only two years ago our late Annita Lyoncourt was raped and brutally murdered-" The screen flashes to a picture of Annitta with her husband Derrick and a young Y/n.

It used to be Y/n's favorite picture.

She quickly turns off the TV, staring at the black screen in front of her. Her phone buzzing catches her attention. She turns her head to check her phone but her eyes land on a picture sitting framed on the corner table

It's the same picture from the news.

She curls up on the couch, closing her eyes tightly in sadness.

The girl jumps up hearing her phone buzzing on the side table. She lazily grabs the phone, putting it to her ear.

"Hey! Got out kind of late, i'll see you in 20! I'm picking up the snacks!" Y/n pulls her phone away to check the time

7:15

She rubs her eyes before nodding, "It's past 7." She mumbles.

"Be calm, Lani and Dylan didn't meet the lord until after ten." Buddy's poor taste of words causes Y/n to roll her eyes.

"Not worried about that." Y/n says as she sits up a bit.

"Good. Also, I want to watch Bullet Train! if you look closely you can see Aaron's dick!"

"Hurry the hell up before I cancel."

Buddy laughs before ending the call. Immediately the phone rings again and Y/n groans.

"Buddy I don't care about Bulle-Hello Y/n." The voice cuts her off, catching her off guard. She sits up a bit more and rubs her eyes again as if it would help her hear.

"Buddy?"

"No, who's Buddy?" the voice questions her. She frowns and speaks back, "Who's this?"

"You tell me." The girl sighs and mumbles something about having no idea.

"It's a scary night, you know, with all the murders going on? It's like a horror movie or something." She scoffs and stands up from the couch, walking into the kitchen.

"You gave yourself away Nate. You know, Buddy is on her way over. If you want I can stay on the phone with you until she gets here so you can flirt with her." She starts to fill a cup with water.

"Do you like scary movies Y/n?" Nate asks.

"Of course I do, you know that Nate. I like the voice you're doing, it's sexy." She jokes.

Nate ignores her and continues, "Are you alone in your house Y/n?"

"How original Nate. You disappoint me." She takes a sip of the cold water, it soothing her scratchy throat.

"Maybe it's because I'm not Nate."

She pauses and sets the glass of water down, "ok so who are you?"

"The real question is, where am I."

Y/n simply blinks, not really caring for this phone call in the slightest. "Ok, so where are you?"

"You're front porch." She walks to the front door, swinging it open. Just like she thought, no one was there. She steps out of her home, the crisp air biting at her skin. "Mmm and where are you?"

"Right here."

She looks around her yard, even looking out through the trees.

"Can you see me?" She questions suddenly. The voice hums in acknowledgment. "Yeah? Then what am I doing?" She throws up a peace sign, slightly sticking her tongue out of her mouth and to the side.

She's met with silence.

She chuckles and turns around to walk inside the home, "Nice try Nate. Talk to you la-If you hang up on me you'll die just like your whore of a mother!"

His harsh words cause her to tense up.

"Do you want to die, pretty girl? your mother sure didn't."

As the voice taunts her, she quickly becomes angry. Between Denise Jones and memories of her mother's passing, she's a firecracker.

"Fuck you!" She rushes into the house, slamming and locking the door when suddenly,

she's ambushed.

A black shadow barges out of the hallway closet, ramming into her. Her phone goes flying as she bangs against the ground. She quickly turns around and sees a masked figure looming over her. Her eyes widen as she sees the mask adorning their face.

Her fight or flight kicks in, fight winning.

She brings her leg back and sends it flying into their crotch. The figure topples down, coming right at her. Ignoring their pain, the figure wraps their gloved hand around her neck. She struggles to breathe, jerking her body around. The figure raises their arm, a sharp and glimmering knife coming into view.

Before the knife can come down, she screams for them to wait.

"Are you hot at least?"

The masked figure tilts their head to the side, clearly confused by her flirtatious words. They are about to kill her and she's asking if they are hot? The figure has no more time to dwell on the topic, due to Y/n punching him in the face. He tumbles off of her and she's quick to scramble to her feet, flying towards the door. Her shaky hands find the knob, attempting to swing it open.

It gets caught by the lock.

"Shit!" She looks behind her and sees the figure rising to their feet. She closes the door and tries to unlock it, but it gets caught by the second lock. Not wanting to risk her life because of a dumb door, she turns around to run up the stairs.

She turns just in time to see the masked figure raising their knife at her. She screams and ducks, crawling up the stairs. The masked figure grabs at her leg and she screams once again.

her body reacts before her mind, grabbing the vase at the landing of the stairs, and hurling it behind her. Her leg is freed as she hears a thud and the vase shattering.

"My dad is going to fucking kill me!" she whines out as she finishes running up the stairs. She reaches her bedroom, and quickly slams the door.

"Cover, I need cover!" She mutters in a frenzy. Her eyes scan her room before she lands on her closet door.

It always blocks her door.

She moves from against the door and swings her closet open, just in time as the masked figure rams into the door.

Just like all the other times, the closet door catches on to the knob of her room door and blocks the killer from coming in.

"Ha! You stupid fuck!" She screams, laughing hysterically. Her adrenaline is pumping and she feels like she's going crazy. She starts to look for her phone, hoping to call for help when she realizes it's somewhere downstairs. Her eyes land on her backpack where her MacBook lays.

She darts toward the fraying Jansport bag, hands shaking as the masked killer rams their shoulder into her door. "Come on come on come on! Load you stupid piece of shit!" she urges for the laptop to turn on.

When it does she types in her password, constantly eyeing the door in panic. She clicks on the Facetime icon, hoping one of her friends will answer before the killer gets to her.

She clicks on the first contact she sees when suddenly,

It's quiet.

She freezes and listens carefully for any sound.

Nothing.

She stands in her room, her eyes wide and her heart thumping profusely. As she walks towards her door, she hears creaking by her window. She snatches her old softball bat and gets into batting position.

She looks crazy, her eyes wide and looking deranged, her clothes disheveled as well as her hair.

Matt comes tumbling in, eyes wide as he sees the state of the girl. "Woah? What's going on? I heard screaming." She drops her arms in relief, her legs starting to give out. "Oh fuck, Matt thank god!" She rushes towards him and pulls him into a hug.

"H-he was here! He tried to kill me!" Reality sets in as she recalls the previous events. Matt hugs her tightly, murmuring softly in her ear.

"Shhh. it's ok, I'm here, no one is going to kill you, pretty girl."

She tenses.

Pretty girl.

"W-what did you say?" She slowly pulls away from him. "I said it's ok and no one is going to hurt you, pretty girl."

That name. That nickname.

The killer used it.

She slowly backs away from him, her hand gripping the bat tightly. Matt notices and furrows his brows, "Y/n what is- Stay the fuck back!" She yells as Matt walks closer to her. She raises the bat and Matt takes a step back. "Y/n stop! What the hell is-" The girl rushes out of the room, ignoring his shouts for her. She tumbles down the stairs, her ears ringing as she slams against the front door.

She succeeds in unlocking the door and swings it open, only to be met with a figure.

She screams and swings her bat, hitting the figure in the stomach.

"Oof!"

"Junior?" Her voice cracks as she recognizes the voice as Deputy Holland. He groans as he hunches over. Not even caring to ask if he's ok from the bat to the stomach, she collapses in his arms, sobbing softly.

Everything is a blur. One minute she's sobbing in Deputy Holland's arms, and the next she's sitting in the back of the ambulance, watching as Matt is dragged out of her home, screaming at the arresting officers.

"I didn't fucking do anything! Y/n! Where is Y/n?!"

They make eye contact as they drag him to the flashing cruiser, "Y/n please!" She looks away from him, her heart heavy as she hears his pleas.

"We got him sherrif. Matthew Sturniolo." Deputy Holland states proudly.

"Jimmy Sturniolo's kid? One of those triplet boys?"

"He's her best friend." Holland shrugs.

The sheriff approaches the vehicle Matt is in, "Sheriff please I didn't do it! Call my parents!"

The sheriff sighs and motions for the car to pull off. As the car pulls off the street, another appears.

Buddy and Nate hop out, rushing towards the ambulance. They begin to bombard the girl with questions, but she ignores them, asking her own.

"Nate, did you call me acting like the killer?" Nate stares at her in disbelief. "What? Y/n no!"

"Nate was with me. I showed up at Supermart and he was walking out. I offered to drive him home after I picked you up." Buddy explains.

She glares at Nate, not believing him fully.

"Y/n, I promise on my life that wasn't me. I wouldn't do anything like that." Nate pleads.

He knows he can be ditzy sometimes and can be an unintentional asshole, but he would never, do something like that to his friend.

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I feel like yall not really fucking with this series but imma still keep posting it lmao. im working on two other series and idk which one i want to post first, but ill keep yall updated.

DUE TO THE FACT THIS IS AN INTENSE BOOK THAT HAS A BUNCH OF GORE, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE OFF THE TAG LIST FOR THIS BOOK!!!

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita

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