Pollen Count

lambs for the slaughter

(mdni)

leon kennedy x reader

warnings: cult leader!leon, fem!reader, dub-con, mentions of a forced marriage, fingering, virgin!reader

a/n: THIS TOOK ME DONKEY YEARS TO WRITE. i'm proud of it though so idrc. there will also be a second part to this bc i have more planned. title is from fly on the windscreen by depeche mode (that song is leon's song trust)

please enjoy!!!

“Pitiful lamb, she must be saved before she falls into the darkness.”

The words are like an echo in your head, like it's your conscience speaking to you, but you know damn well that such is not the case.

You're pretty confused as to where you are, but all you know is that you can't move and people are chanting the same words over and over.

Gloria las plagas.

“Take her to the tomb and dress her in the marital robes.”

You want to open your eyes, but all you can feel is cold hands groping your warm body, and you can't help but shudder because there are so many of them gripping onto you.

“I shall show her salvation.”

The last thing you feel is a cloak wrapped around your naked body before you drift back into your comatose state.

–

Your eyelids feel heavy, drooping over your eyes as you slip into the real world.

You're in your bed, wearing your plaid pyjamas and looking (as well as feeling) like a mess because that dream was far too realistic.

Usually you aren't supposed to remember dreams, and if you had dreamt about a memory, surely you would remember such an occasion of being accused of ‘falling into the darkness’.

But ‘marital robes'? Odd, strange- even better, peculiar. You'd definitely remember a thing such as this, marriage is a big deal. You're already hearing the voice of your mother rattling on about ‘finding the right one’ just at the thought.

‘Whatever, you shouldn't dwell on such things’ is what you helpfully motivate yourself with. Dreams never make sense anyway, why should they now?

–

You ended up getting in such a state about it that it was to the point where you didn't even process that you were late for work.

Your manager greets you with a raised eyebrow as well as a heavy sigh at your slightly dishevelled appearance when you unceremoniously burst into his office.

You don't even apologise for being late, you just continue panting and making strange hand signals to show that you'd had bad traffic or something.

You're not even sure yourself what you signed (wasn't evening signing, it was just pointing and breathless words) at your manager.

It almost makes you wonder how you haven't lost your job. Maybe the pile of documents dumped on your desk is probably a benefitting factor.

–

Your work doesn't contain much effort, save it for the pointless meetings you daydream in, typing away reports, signing paperwork. Menial tasks.

Gives you ample time to think about that dream.

Well, not really a dream (despite your earlier evaluation on it being such). In your eyes it felt like a flashback, but you recall nothing about being referred to as a lamb, let alone a pitiful one either.

It's like a daze has washed over you the more you let it fester in your mind, an incantation of sorts that's making you reminisce on the dream like a broken record.

The chanting, that overpowering voice, the feeling of hot and cold, the hands, marital robes and the salvation. God knows what all that means.

You should just let this slide much like this morning, should just pretend everything is normal and fine when it's not, because you're good at that sort of thing.

You can't shake the niggling feeling though.

Gloria las plagas. It's a distant chime in your head, and suddenly your fingers are darting across your keyboard with a loud clack clack clack.

Glory to the plagues. Cool, maybe you should've learnt Spanish in school or something, but you would've forgotten it anyway.

The plagues though? The fuck is that?

You hurriedly clack away more at your keyboard like you had a strong purpose.

The Plagues are a breed of parasitic superorganisms which originated from a remote valley in the Iberian Peninsula.

Very insightful. Means fuck all to you, so you do a little more digging because this is getting slightly more concerning that your brain has conjured this up and it's somehow real.

Once again, you're clacking away at your bulky keyboard with more vigour, resulting in you hitting the ‘Enter’ key so hard you wince (and a co-worker narrowing her eyes at you for the noise).

Parasitic organisms, an organism that lives on or in a host organism and gets its food from or at the expense of its host.

Fun. Almost like getting pregnant is all your mind helpfully supplies, but you roll your eyes to yourself because your mind clearly hasn't recovered from the events of last night.

Oh well, you hope your manager or some random stranger doesn't see your search history and gets weirded out by your impromptu research lesson on Spanish and Biology.

Then again, you hope you don't seem dumb for searching up what a parasite organism is. And the Spanish.

–

You're going mental, you know it.

You needed to touch up your lipgloss and nature also called (you needed to piss), so you headed to the toilets and did your business, then headed to the mirrors to wash your hands and gloss up your lips.

You didn't think the power would suddenly cut just as you were to unscrew the cap of your gloss.

You're coated in darkness, uncomfortably aware now that you're alone in the bathroom as you let out a meek ‘hello?’ and all you're met with is a deafening silence ringing in your ears.

Maybe you're getting pranked on, there is a light switch in the bathroom, but then again, you never really speak to anyone at your work because they seem to gossip all the time, and you don't fancy losing your job over it.

Much to your surprise, the fluorescent lights suddenly flicker on.

Glancing at the mirror, your reflection is staring back at you, and quickly come to notice that your eyes are red.

You gasp and tense up at the sight. No longer do you have your natural eye colour coating your irises, but instead you have this crimson red seeping through.

Gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas.

Backing away from the mirror is the first thing you do, unintentionally dropping your gloss to the floor as you run your hands over your eyes in case you're just seeing shit.

Your eyes are still red, but blood drips down your face like tears.

Gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas.

It's the chanting, the same in your dream, but it's louder, closer, harsher, and it makes you put your hands over your ears and screw your eyes shut.

Gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria la-

A hand taps you on the shoulder, pulling you out of the sheer panic you were in to silence as you whip your head around to see who your saving fucking grace was.

It's a coworker, one you're sure you've never spoken to, but she's one of the less bitchy ones so you aren't too mad. She's got this look of concern in her face, forcing you to wonder if she's taken in your bloody eyes and if she decides to call an ambulance or something.

But she doesn't, she just gives you a smile and asks if you're okay, and all you can give is a shaky nod because you are definitely not fine.

When you do look back at the mirror, you look normal. But you don't feel it.

–

You're sitting criss crossed on your bed, reading a book. Not exactly a very interesting book, one that an old friend recommended, so it was likely that it wasn't destined to be anything special.

You feel tired, drained even. You did fuck all today, especially after the incident in the bathroom at work, you're still a little shaken. It had you unable to focus for the whole work day.

Even this shitty book can't keep you focused, maybe you need an early night.

You slap the book shut, without noting the page you were on, and toss it on your bedside table, uncaring of the painful clattering sound it shouts out to you as you rub your eyes and yawn.

After blinking a couple times, you glance at the clock with some disinterest.

20:43.

Yeah, definitely an early night. Maybe this is your chance to fix the appalling sleep schedule you've never been able to rid yourself of.

Wandering into the bathroom had never been such a sluggish experience, but you aren't skipping your nightly routine of washing your face and putting a little moisturiser on.

The cold water on your face seems to snap you out of something, forcing you sigh and grip onto the edge of the sink until your knuckles turn white, reluctance etched on your face

You don't want to look in the mirror, but you feel compelled too.

It's like a taunt in your eyes, urging you to look at your reflection because of your strict nightly regime, though you're more concerned about the fact that you gaze at your reflection and be met with bleeding out of your eyes again.

Plucking up the courage by taking a deep breath, you look up to the mirror. Never-fucking-mind about the bleeding eyes.

Black veins stem from your eyes and start trailing down your face, then to your neck, then arms and then hands.

Much like your previous experience, you don't panic. However, you don't back away from the mirror, but get closer instead.

Huh, not too bad. If these veins were just body paint you'd be rocking these for a Halloween party at fifteen or something. But you're not, and these veins are very fucking real.

The chanting hasn't started yet, and you almost feel thankful about it, though there's an ache that's becoming a throbbing pain in your head, and you can't shake it as the veins grow sharper on your skin.

Subconsciously, it seemed your hand had wandered near your face to have a feel of your face, only to be met with the feeling of slightly dry skin and no side effects from doing that action.

Until a gasp escapes you, and before you know it, you've collapsed.

A thud resounds in your ears, and you're fairly certain you've done some damage to the back of your head as you vaguely recall catching it on something.

Cold tiles penetrate your thin clothes as you lay on the floor, control of your body slowly fading in your head as your eyelids slip shut, the fatigue returning and suddenly being lucid was all too much.

The last thing you register is warm arms picking you up.

–

“You look lovely.”

You'll admit, you look rather fetching from what you can tell from the murky mirror. Black veins covet your skin with crimson eyes staring back at you, and all you do is smile.

Inwardly, you're freaking the fuck out. You (or Not You) look as pale as a vampire. Look as if You're dead. You're not though, you're very much alive.

“Don't worry, my little lamb,”

He's got your cold hand in between two warm ones, and you can't help but notice how pale you are.

Maybe you are dead, maybe you're in the in between, or maybe you're just cold. Whatever the fact is, you can't help but shiver slightly and move closer to his presence.

“I will show you the light.”

A blinding pain rushes through you, and your own shrieks ring in your ears.

“Do not resist my angel.” You are unsure of what you're resisting, but it hurts more than anything humanly possible.

“I will show you the light.”

–

You suck in a deep breath and sit up, like you've just got out of the water just before you've drowned.

Adrenaline flows through your blood, the drug making you hyper aware of everything around you.

You're on your bed, the bathroom light in the corner of your room reaches out to the shadowed gloom of your bedroom. And there's something on your head too, wrapped tightly too.

A bandage, seems as if you did hit your head pretty hard. You confirm that as you poke at different spots on the bandage and reward yourself with a painful wince.

“You haven't done any massive damage, just a concussion.”

That voice, a very familiar one is all you recognise as your head jolts up to the source of where it came from.

You're unsure of who he is, the hood of a purple robe obstructing your view of the man's face. He holds a staff, though he's too far in the shadows to get a proper good look at it.

“You…” He's the one in your dreams, you're sure of it. He can't be real, shouldn't be real at all, should be a figment of your imagination.

“You still resisted when I showed you the truth.” Truth? What is the truth? The only truth you know is that a strange man who's been making you go batshit in dream land is in your bedroom.

“I don't- I have no idea what you're on about.” That came out a little more sassy than necessary, but you're not really processing what the fuck is going on.

In response to your remark, the man steps out of the shadows and lets go of his staff for it to turn to dust.

In this light, you can see the faint glow of the light shine slightly on his face, painting the picture of his nose and lips. But then his hands reach up to his hood and pull it off his head.

You can't help but freeze up. The guy is hot as fuck, you can't deny. You feel like comically rubbing your eyes to check what you're seeing in front of you is real.

Of course the creepy guy has pretty privilege. Could be worse.

“I suppose I will have to form the ritual.” A ritual? Sounds fun, a great time even.

Slight snag though, you don't fancy being sacrificial meat for this guy, hot or not. Or maybe it'll be some weird mating ritual. You hope it's the latter.

“Your assumption is correct, for it is the latter we will be performing.” He can read minds as well, how amazing for you. You probably don't even have to talk anymore, but you quite fancy putting your words in on things.

“Why are we doing this ritual?” Just to emphasise the slight distress you feel, you get up off the bed, but it backfires when you stumble as a wave of dizziness crashes down on you.

Warm hands circle your waist, pulling your back toward a firm chest. Can't help but think you're in heaven because you've never been near someone so strong, muscular and hot.

Oh, and he's also hard. Can feel it against your ass and it nearly has you shuddering.

A breath coats your ear, it seems he's leant down to your ear and goes to mumble in your ear. “Because you resisted my gift,” He paused as one of his hands glided away from your waist to cup your mound. “And I wish to show you the light.”

Your mind is in overdrive, it certainly doesn't help that you've got a concussion, but he's got a hand in your very special parts. Whether he's hot or not, he should at least ask for permission. “Wait- wait I- stop-”

“Is something the matter?” You can tell he's grinning as he does this, and you can't help but gasp as he nibbles at your ear and rubs his hand over your mound, making you wetter than you've ever been before.

You look down and place a hand over his own to try and push him away, but it's only then that the black veins on your body have come back. “The veins-”

A hand clasps your mouth, and you can't help but moan and whine as he continues to stimulate your pussy. “Don't resist me, little lamb.”

Hope of resisting dwindles quickly after he commands this, as his hand moves away from your clothed clit to slip under your shirt and feel your tits. You can't help but suck in a breath as he pinches your nipple, then moves to the other to do the same.

“There- you see? It's not so bad, is it?” He's not wrong, you feel lightheaded and flooded in the feeling of pleasure, and all he's done is barely tease you.

His hand moves away from your mouth, no longer silencing you as it trails down to your pyjama bottoms and slips under it as well as your underwear, and all you can do is stare.

Tight circles are rubbed on your clit, and your legs are already weakening by the second from it. The only dignity you can save is by biting your bottom lip to suppress the light moans attempting to escape your lips. “Very sensitive, aren't we?”

It sounds like he's taunting you, almost driving you up the wall because this pleasure you're feeling is going to make you insatiable.

A finger plunges into your hole, and you fail to hold in the whine you let out, and neither can he suppress a breathy groan. “You're tighter than a virgin.”

You freeze in his hold at that revelation he stated, and in the reply, the bastard chuckles at you. Fuck him for sounding so sexy.

“Knew you were a good choice,” You actually can't help but smile at that. There's always a first for everything, and this was one of those things. And also having a strange man's finger in your cunt.

Said finger suddenly curls inside you, then slowly creeps out, then back in. The gentle thrusting of his finger makes your hands clutch at his forearms, digging your nails into it as you moan.

You hear a faint hiss from it, but his finger only moves faster, then it's joined by another. You can only gasp at the stretch because it actually hurts a little, so you dig your nails into his arms a little more for him to get the message.

His palm rubs against your clit, and it provides you with stimulation you could never get from your own hands because they're not nearly as big as his.

“Got my hand soaked,” He pauses, now angling his fingers so when he thrusts into you, his palm smacks against your clit, and in response you wail at the feeling. “Pretty little lamb.”

His words seem like syrup in your head as you chase your high, his fingers a catalyst for reaching it as they hit that spongy spot in you each time. “Can't wait to make you my wife.”

All coherent thought leaves you as you attempt to shout out a rebuttal at the words, all you let out are pathetic sputters and panting.

“What did I say?” Don't resist, that's what he said. But you don't want to be his wife, don't want to be part of what the hell he's got going on. “Be a good girl and listen.”

The chanting starts again. It's faint at first, but it gets louder and tempo quickens as you get closer to your high.

Gloria las plagas.

The orgasm is intense, you're convulsing and squeaking out a moan as your eyes roll to the back of your head, soreness spreading through your lower area and you're barely able to stand.

Slumping against him, you feel fingers still prodding at your lower area still, before they move away and up to your lips and slip inside your mouth, not even realising the strange taste that coats your mouth is your release.

Your eyelids slowly slip shut without you even realising. The adrenaline you've felt this entire time has run dry from your peak, the pillars of consciousness collapsing, tumbling you into the realm of deep sleep.

When you stood there, shattered… after killing our beloved mother… and the brother you’d fought tooth and nail to protect denounced you… how did it make you feel?

Night sketch.

It’s ironic that one of the best way to rest from drawing too much, is drawing something just for pleasure, without thinking.

asking them if they have a crush on you while you’re already dating

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, uraume, shoko

ʚ cont: fem reader, fluff, crack

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Naughty Accident with Obey Me Characters awake their deepest desire PART - 1

You accidentally bumping your lips too hard on them & somehow they react weirdly at you.

Now, what will you do? Share me your MC reaction __φ(。。)

Art by Serbet Merah

sanemi

Hi idk if you’re taking requests🥺🥺 but I was thinking Megumi was a shy little girlfriend who when they have sex for the first time he can’t believe how submissive she is and all the dirty words that come out of her mouth🩷🩷

  * ✦　˚　. m o r e ★⋆. ࿐࿔

REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED : written in the past! 🍒 smut, reader's first time ! everybody 18+ 💕 valentine's

You're his sweet girl. His shy girl. His princess. His world.

You always float about the place like you're lighter than air, sweeter and fluffier than cotton candy. Your lips press wispy kisses to his skin that leave red blossoms covering his cheeks.

The tone in your voice is so innocent and pure.

You're an angel.

So why do you sound like this when he kisses you?

He kissed you suddenly, passionately, taking things further than you ever had before. Your hands laced behind his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer by his spiky black strands. And it felt wrong, like he was corrupting you, but he forced your mouth open with his tongue and heard you moan. It was a blissful sound. And soon enough, that became his addiction.

He strived to hear that sound again. His hands wandered over your body, straying under the hem of your dress and touching your thighs. His lips found your neck and you emmitted one more of those high pitched moans.

Again and again, you fueled him to keep going until you were naked.

He wasn't fully aware of how it happened.

But you were under him and he was amazed at how you were presenting your body to him; your legs spreading, inviting him in so willingly. He didn't even have to ask and you were doing everything he wanted.

He realised that his dreams were about to come true.

~

"Harder, Megumi, harder-"

But he got more than he bargained for.

Your moaning, your hands on his chest, your soft lips kissing him. They were enough.

But when he got inside you and you started talking to him like that...

It drove him mad.

You watch his eyes dip up and down your body, finding your lips. He stares, watching the words form with a strained look on his face, as if he can't believe what he's hearing.

"More, more, Megumiii~~"

"Uh--"

But it's true. He sees your throat contract with each syllable and those sweet dirty words come from you.

"Fuck- keep that pretty mouth closed- 'f you want me to last-"

You clearly don't.

"'wanna- wanna feel your cum... I wanna feel it inside me- please?"

No, no, no not yet. He begs himself not to release but he nods, promising you that he will.

But he lasts much longer than he expects and only starts to feel his balls twitching when your mouth opens again.

You tell him you want him to fuck you like you're not a virgin.

"Oh- oh shit-" you watch his eyes roll back but he can't cum yet. His face contorts. He's thinking. Desperately reasoning with the animal inside him that wants to obey you without question.

But when he asks if you're sure and you beg for it, he gets you on your knees and fulfils your request like his life depends on it. He grunts and fucks you rough, reaching over your body to touch your clit. He guides you through your first time with his fingers, his lips, his whole body, till you're cumming and shaking together, panting and sighing with relief.

He can't believe his pretty girl asked him to do that. During her first time, no less.

He has a feeling that you're going to be quite a kinky girl, and he looks forward to taking your second and third time as well.

megumi | m.list

I Want Another Baby...oops

Dividers by benkeibear and firefly-graphics

(RE4RLeon Kennedy x Female! Reader with OC Daughter)

Note: Rosalie won't be seeing you and Leon naked. You'll be covered up lol. Also you're 25 while he's 27. Rosalie is 4. Also if you don't like the name you can always change it.

Warnings: Small smut, swearing, your poor innocent child, Leon trying to make up a story

Summary: You and Leon are trying for another baby but what happens when your daughter Rosalie catches you doing it? Oops...

"I want another baby, Leon." He was caught off guard because you suddenly said that while all of you were watching a movie. "Um, Reader...Rosalie is here with us." You smile, "Yes, I know, babe, but watching this movie with the couple having a big family. It makes me want just one or two more babies."

Leon licks his lower lip, "I mean, we can try." You smile, and he chuckles, then sees Rosalie getting tired but fights her sleepiness, just like he does. Like father, like daughter, the two are inseparable after she was born 4 years ago, and now, he wonders how she would feel if a baby is involved.

"Hey Rosalie? Can you come here?" You heard him ask and see that she does, "How would you feel if mommy is pregnant again?" She smiles happily, "I want a baby brother." He smiles, "Really? Not a baby sister?" She shakes her head no. "I'm your only girl, Daddy. No sisters." You giggle, "Well. We'll see what happens, okay?" She nods, "Okay, Mommy."

After the movie

Leon puts Rosalie in her bedroom, and you get ready for bed, "So, want to have a baby now?" You looked at him, stunned. "What?" He goes to you and rubs your stomach. "Rosalie is asleep, and now you've awakened my baby fever all over again. I would love to see you pregnant again, honey. We'll keep trying and trying until those tests say positive. I know. We were young the first time, but I love you, and being a dad is the greatest feeling ever."

You tear up and passionately kiss each other while holding onto one another. He gently lays you on the bed and hovers over you, slowly pulling away from the kiss and slowly taking both of yours and his PJs off. He takes your panties off and covers the both of you with the blanket, "You're so wet for me, baby girl. I can't wait to get you pregnant." He puts his cock in you, and you both moan. "Fuck Leon." He grunts in pleasure and thrusts into you.

"Mommy, Daddy?" You two froze and looked at sleepy Rosalie. "Hey, sweetheart. is something the matter?" Leon asks, and she shakes her head a no, "No, I heard you and Mommy. I thought something was wrong. I'm sorry for waking up." You saw Leon frown, "Oh, don't apologize, honey. We should be sorry. Mommy and I were playing Zombies. I was fighting her until she bit me."

Rosalie giggles, "Bad Mommy." You smile, "Sorry honey, Daddy is too yummy, but you should go back to bed." She smiles, "Can I have some milk and a small snack first? Please?" Leon smiles, "Of course, honey. Daddy will be there." She smiles and nods, then walks away.

You looked at him, giggling, "That was the cheesiest thing you ever said." He chuckles, "Sorry. I couldn't say that we were playing Bingo." He smirks, "When I get back, be prepared. I'm not done with you yet, my sexy Zombie."