this is a nsfw/dead dove blog, please do not interact if below 18+ and if you do not like dark content.
i am born in 2000
i write mainly for &team, but i am open to writing for riize's anton/sungchan and nct wish's riku/sakuya. english is not my native language so there might be some mistakes/errors >_<
✘won't write - ageplay, scat, raceplay, emeto, necro, male reader, ddlg, idol member x idol reader, mommy kink, minors
✔︎will write - most dead dove elements except the ones i state i won't write, sfw, fluff, angst
❤︎personally like - stalking, coercion, gaslighting/manipulation, mindbreak, domestic violence, non con, gunplay/knifeplay, ed related
this list is non-exhaustive, might've missed out on somethings and will add/edit along the way, so feel free to ask me anything!! requests are always open, but i'm a little slow, give me some time to write♡
trigger warnings : dead dove do not eat, coercion, dubcon, oral sex, transactional intercourse, intercourse in public area/exhibitionism (?)
you knew nicholas from way back in university. same major, same class, but different friend groups. he's handsome, but he was always bothering and teasing you, whistling whenever you walked past him.
"nice skirt," he'd 'compliment', except it wasn't really a compliment, more like a catcall… you rolled your eyes and ignored him. you hope you'd never encounter guys like him after graduation.
but what rotten luck. here he is, three years later, working in the same company, the same office as you. to make matters even worst, his desk is right next to yours. ugh. he's still as infuriating and flirty as ever. he doesn't stop making inappropriate passing remarks to you, as childish as always. it seemed like he never matured mentally. he'd tell you how pretty you still look after all these years, and how 'cute' you are when you get annoyed. but all you do is shoot him a sharp glare. you don't want to give him the satisfaction.
it's a thursday night, 8pm. the office is mostly empty, even the ones that were working overtime had already left. you're drowning with work piled up, multiple reports and spreadsheets due tomorrow but you can't seem to get it right. you sigh loudly in frustration, rubbing your temples. your head and eyes hurts from staring at the computer screen for hours.
"still here?" nicholas appears by your desk, a teasing smirk on his face, his annoying voice interrupting your thoughts. you let out a 'tch', not in the mood to deal with him.
"deadline." you answer curtly, eyes still fixed onto your computer screen.
"i finished my part like last week," he mocks, rubbing salt in your wound. your right eye twitches, feeling your anger boiling, looking up at his smug face. "i could help you finish your report."
"yeah, like hell you will," you raise your eyebrow him. "what's the catch? buying you coffee for a week?" nicholas shakes his head, laughing.
"no, not that," he steps closer, stopping right to you. "you know what i mean… suck me off and i'll help you finish your report."
"are you crazy? fuck off, wang," your eyes narrow in anger and disgust at his obscene proposition. you have half a mind to email HR and report him for sexual harassment right there and then. maybe then he'll finally leave you alone.
"fine, fine.. suit yourself then." he shrugs. you stare at the computer screen, and you can feel another headache incoming. there's still so, so much work. you really should have started this task earlier, and you doubt that you could finish this by today. he starts to turn to walk away. if caught, you and nicholas could lose your jobs. but desperate times call for desperate measures. you wanted to go home, you really, really hated working overtime. you have a headache, your body hurts, you haven't had time for lunch and theres a pile of chores waiting for you at home.
"wait," you call out. he stops and turns back. "you're a pervert, but fine…" you quietly accuse him. he's smiling mischeviously from ear to ear. he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. he's taking pleasure in seeing your predicament. what a sadist...
"where?" you quickly question him, your eyes nervously looking around the office. "here's fine, i checked the locations of security cameras when i first joined so that i can slack off in peace. the security cameras don't monitor this area." he shrugs, sitting on his office chair. you roll your eyes. of course he out of all people knows the best way to slack off. he leaned back on his office chair. you sigh, getting up and approaching him.
you knelt inbetween his legs, the carpeted floor dulling the sound of your knees hitting the surface. he looks around the office once more to see if there's anyone around. the office cubicles are empty, computers screen black and the printers and copiers turned off. he gives you a nod to go ahead. you're really going to do this. your hands are slightly trembling. you can't tell if it was from the amount of caffeine you consumed today or from the fact you are about to do something so obscene and risque in the office.
your fingers held onto his zipper and unzipped his office slacks. his fingers run through your hair, encouraging you on. you look up, and he's still smirking at you. god, how you wish you could wipe off that infuriating smirk off of his face. you help to slide his boxers and slacks off, and he's already half hard, leaking precum at the tip. your hands wrap around him; warm, soft, but slightly hesitant. his hips jerks forward instinctively, chasing after the delicious, warm friction. you open your mouth to take him in slowly.
"fuck-," he mutters, his head tilting back against the office chair. his fingers tangle in your hair, gripping it gently, trying to guide you to bob your head up and down his length. as his erection grows to full hardness, you realize that he's just too big; you try to slacken your jaw and relax your neck to take in as much as him as possible.
he bites his lips to stifle his moans, trying to be quiet. but his hips subconciously move on it's own, forcing his length deeper and deeper into your throat.
"yeah, like that-…" he moans softly, gripping the locks of your silky hair tighter, manhandling your head as he pleases. he's so big, the bulbous tip continously hitting the back of your throat. with every thrust, it drags against the palate. your tongue instinctively licks around his cock and you could feel every vein, and every drop of precum. your saliva makes each thrust even wetter and messier, thick droplets dripping down your chin and down your neck. the wet sounds are loud in the otherwise quiet office.
"close-," he warns, his hips rutting quicker and quicker against the roof of your mouth. it's so warm, and wet and the soft muscle of your tongue swirling makes it feel like heaven for him. he rocks his hips as deep as he possibly can, forcing himself down your throat with no regard for your comfort. your eyes water as you glare up at him, your palms angrily slapping his thighs. but he doesn't go slower. he doesn't stop. that defiant look in your eyes only spurs him on, as he continuously slams down your spasming, clenching throat. it's so tight, and he loves it so much. his eyes rolls to the back of his head.
without a warning, he ungraciously cums down your throat. he rode out his orgasm, thick ropes of cum filling your throat and mouth. the salty, musky taste making you grimace. ugh... you stand up quickly, snatching a piece of tissue from the tissue box on his desk. you spat out as much cum as you could and glared at him. your knees were shaking and stinging, feeling raw from the carpet burn and your jaw aches from the stretch of his cock. your scalp hurts from the way he roughly tugged at it. he takes a tissue and wipes himself off, giving you a sleazily and satisfied smirk. you can't stop glaring at him, your hair messy from all the pulling and your eyes watering from the stretch. god, how you wish you could slap that smirk off his face.
"10 out 10, not bad at giving head", he comments like as if this is a normal, everyday occurrence between colleagues. he's pulling his boxers and zipping his pants up. you scowled at his degrading remark. not bad? but your mouth is too sore to argue back, so you don't say anything. he walks over to your office chair and takes a seat, cracking his knuckles. he examines the work on your computer. there's still many things left to do.
"i'll handle it. you can go home now," he waves you off, starting to type on your computer keyboard. you don't thank him, still wiping the corners of your lips. the salty taste is heavy on your tongue and your throat is sore and tight.
"see you tomorrow." you hum at him, taking your bag and starting to walk away and go home.
it's 10.30pm, you're in your apartment, already showered and eating a late dinner. you made sure to brush your teeth twice and gargle mouthwash for longer. your phone dings. you just received a text message from nicholas.
"just finished. told you i'll make it before the deadline." you roll your eyes and ignore his text.
one of my more mild works... thinking of making this a multi chaptered office au series where each member gets a short smutty chapter, maybe around 1k words per chapter? y/n is gonna be like so ran through by the end.. i already have ideas for like 4-5 more :3 maybe manager fuma/k... intern taki/maki ... thoughts/reqs/ideas are open ♡ thanks for reading/liking/reblogging/commenting/sending asks!!
working on some requests but i'm kinda having writers block and distractedᐢ. ֑ .ᐢ feel free to send in requests or just thoughts/ideas/talk to me!! tq♡
you are sweet, kind, a shining star in yuma’s otherwise dull dark life. you debuted at 20 in a small jpop idol group, yuma was there before the stage lights and fanmeets. you just didnt know that. see, you went to highschool with yuma—you were both in different social circles so you never really knew each other. well, you didn’t know yuma. yuma definitely knew you.
but as highschool came and went, you moved to tokyo and yuma moved on with his life; studying music production.
he was bored though, his friend harua had dragged him to a small concert—saying that underground idol concerts were fun! and it was fun, because when he looked up on that stage, there you stood. pink frilly dress, twin tails and a bright smile. god, you shined. brightened up his life in just a few minutes and he decided that from that day on—he would never let that brightness dim.
your group grew, not by an insane amount like akb48 or even =love. but enough that your company had started putting more effort into promoting you all. with promotion also came with fan service and with fan service came fan-meets.
yuma bought 60 albums with his credit card and won.
he dressed nice, put on his best cologne and had dyed his previously black hair blonde. maybe that would make you notice him among the others. maybe he would stand out and you would fall for him. just maybe.
you spoke to kindly, held his hand and praised his good looks. you signed his album with a cute little heart and a note telling him that you loved him—or something like that. it didn’t matter. it wrong move anyway because this only fueled yuma’s growing obsession with you.
cameras put into plushies you took home so that he could jerk off to you changing, watching your stories and posts closely so that he could hang around—hoping to bump into you, doxxing hate accounts, keeping folders upon folders of pictures of you. breaking into your solo dorm to steal your panties, jerking off on your pillows so you’d smell him when you slept and even reading your diary.
yuma decided that the spotlight was too much for you. your diary spoke about how you’d been struggling with anxiety and depression—how you’d resulted to self harm to weaken the desire to die.
that broke him. why would you want that? who made you feel this way? what made you feel this way?
he couldn’t take it. maybe the spotlight was too much for you. maybe you needed a break—or to leave entirely.
so he made a plan. slipping into your apartment at dawn whilst you did some grocery shopping. hiding in your closet with a camera propped up in your kitchen—directly facing your cup that you’d left on the counter. you always had this cup, always drank from it. what a good way to drug you.
when you eventually got home, thirsty and tired. you chugged the water so unaware that you’d just given yourself away to what you thought was a sweet fanboy.
as your unconscious body laid on the floor, chest still rising and falling. yuma worked around your passed out form. he’d learned how to copying your hand writing from the various notes you’d written for him during fansigns, he used that to his advantage as he wrote your suicide note. telling everyone you’d gone off to the country side to die peacefully.
you hadn’t. instead you sat in a room, terrified as the pretty face of your fan twisted in anger at your pleas to leave.
“you are fucking dead. shut up. my apartment is isolated. no one will hear you scream anyway. ” he said, rolling his eyes at your sobs and screams.
hiiiiii~!!!!! if you are taking requests, i was wondering (if you are comfortable) with writing something with yuma. . . he helps you cut yourself / sh, he talks you through every slit, when you get too light-headed he takes over, doing it for you. maybe even after he cleans you up and then fucks you while you’re a bit unconscious— just something a bit short~ ᥩ ܸ ݂•˕ᩙ• ܸ ݂ ა i've always dreamed about him doing this— >.< I love you so so so so much!!
thank u for the request!!! i really appreciate it and love u!! posted here ☆♪
i'm super open and gravitate towards heavy taboo/very dark dead dove requests. even controversial and super taboo ones (even more so poorly received than noncon/dubcon) like ed, sh, dv, etc etc... are all fair game! (can check out my pinned~) i think people will jinjja kill me but whatever (⊙_⊙)
a little bit of tmi, i started this acc back in april because i was going through a bad mental health decline and for weeks, my mind kept replaying and looping the same violent scenario over and over again i literally couldnt think of anything else. after writing it out, i feel much better and could break out of that loop. ((never posted it here its even more violent than anything i've posted)) ( • ᴖ • ｡) so idk i guess dead dove is like a emotional release for me. also because i exclusively write dead dove, i kinda avoid interacting with people in case i make them uncomfortable
trigger warning dead dove do not eat, self h@rm, enabling, blood, pain, mental health disorders, anhedonia, use of razors, sex after sh, you have been warned!!!!!
requested - yuma x fem reader
メンヘラ menhera
everything feels so distant, like muted background noise in your ears. nothing's fun anymore, nothing makes you feel anything. everything feels the same, blurred at the lines where you can no longer tell them apart. it ticks away like the hands on the clock. fear, anger, happiness, sadness, love, arousal, pain-…
you used to love it- the rough sex. where yuma's hands are caged around your throat, the sharp slaps across your face; bruises blooming to the point where you have to use foundation and wear turtlenecks to cover it up. it was once what you craved and needed just to feel something, anything. but, it's not enough, you don't feel like what you used to.
"harder," you'd beg him in the middle of sex, your voice hoarse, blankly staring at him. he raises his eyebrow warily, and puts in more strength in gripping your throat. white flashes behind your eyelids, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, temporarily cutting your airsupply and making you lose conciousness. but it's never enough.
this idea came to you one day; you remember high school, maybe the worst of it all. puberty was difficult for everyone, wasn't it? you were a young, impressionable teenager. you saw it online, and you wanted to try it. you'd clutch at the razorblades that you stole from your mother's vanity drawer. you remember as a child, looking at her through her vanity mirror as she powdered her face and drew on her makeup, watching her shave her already thinned eyebrows. you never understood your mother's aesthetic sense.
you can't remember exactly what happened back then anymore, only vague and distant memories. you'd hide in your bedroom after a terrible day at school, locking the door. the way you would clumsily run the razor against your wrist. you'd bite your lip until the metal pierced through the skin , screaming and crying in your bedroom. you remember your bloodied school uniform and the red stained tissues around your room. you didn't want to die, not really. you just wanted to feel something. foolish girl. you remember almost passing out one day. your mother entering your room that you've forgotten to lock, and stumbling upon you in the act. she went berserk, hysterical, screaming and crying at you. you can't remember what happened after that
it has been many, many years since high school. you've gotten older, grown past that (or so you thought). but that feeling never really left you. you only let it fester and gnaw inside of you, growing silently.
today, you came home in a daze, bursting through the front door feeling numb. like there's a empty void in your chest. you entered your bedroom that you shared with yuma and dug through your makeup drawer. your hands find a disposable plastic shaver.. that'll work. with a little bit of effort, you carefully pry the plastic components apart, taking out the thin, cold, glinting metal, a foreign yet familiar feeling.
you sat down on the edge of your bed. your fingers shake as your bring it to your wrists, the sharpened edge breaking the first layer of your skin. epidermis. that distant, sharp stinging feeling returns, the one you tried to repress and bury in the depths of your being. you haven't felt it in years. you hyperventilate, oxygen rushing into your lungs. the early burn of hot tears starting to sting the inner corners of your eyes. you shakily run the razorblade horizontally across your pale wrists.
it hurts.
"……what are you doing?" your head snaps to the bedroom door. yuma. you forgot that he was coming home from work. you didn't even register the front door opening. his expression is unreadable, standing at the doorway. you squeeze your eyes shut, not trying to defend yourself. you wait for him to shout at you to stop, to rip the blade out of your hands, to grab you by your shoulders and shake some sense into you. but it doesn't come.
he steps closer, slowly inching towards you till he sits right next to you on the bed. his hands outstretched, reaching for the razor blade in your trembling hand. you thought he'd pull it away.. throw it on the floor and scream at you. maybe slap you across the face like how he does sometimes during sex. but he didn't. he's pressed up against you, his thighs are touching yours. the razor is still gently grazing your wrist; blood is starting to slowly trickle down, the red droplet contrasting against your skin. his body heat is radiating warmth.
"…how many more?" he asks. the question hangs heavy in the air. …what?
his hands hover over your fingers that is still holding the razorblade. you didn't answer him, you couldn't. for the first time in a long time, you've overwhelmed with a rush of feelings, swallowing you whole. the emotions that you so desperately tried to seek. it bloomed painfully in your chest, rattling the bones of your ribcage.
"you're doing good.." he praises, as he gently leads your fingers across your wrists, pressing down into your skin. fresh, horizontal lines are drawn on your skin, like a sick, twisted painting. seeing the color red made your heartbeat quicken- it's a scientifically proven fact.
the rush of adrenaline made your entire body burn, blood rushing into your limbs. the metallic scent of blood fills your nostrils. you've never felt like this in a long time. so frantic, so.. alive.
"how does it feel?…." yuma continues to help you slowly drag the razorblade, scar, after scar. with each red line that blooms on your skin, your body became more hypersensitive and responsive. tears won't stop falling down your cheeks and down your neck. you feel so dizzy and light, as though you were floating in the air.
"yu-… no more, 'm weak…" you whisper out, finally being able to verbalize. your body goes lax against his side, leaning into him. he nods, throwing the used, bloodied razorblade onto the bedroom floor and pushes you down against the pillows.
"you like this, huh? you're so turned on…" he pulls off your cotton shorts, noticing how wet you've become. sticky slick dripping when he pulls off your underwear. you nod, still hyperventilating and shaking. your hands lay limp at your sides, twitching.
your vision is blurry, the room spinning, and spinning around you. you couldn't even tell when he removed his pants and started preparing to push his length inside of you. he didn't even need to prepare you. you were so excited, so turned on. so warm, and pliant, and horny. the moment he penetrated you, it felt different, renewed. you felt like being reborn.
you're alive.
you let out a high pitched moan as he buried his cock all the way inside of you, your hands scrambling weakly against the crumpled, pure white bedsheets, staining it bright red.
he takes ahold of your bloody wrists and puts it around his neck, letting you anchor yourself against him. the dripping red blood accidentally smearing against the pale skin of his face and staining his bleach blonde hair. as you loosely wrap your wrists around his neck, the blood drips down his neck, staining it too.
"hold me," yuma says, resting his forehead against yours. he presses his lips against yours. you can finally taste him, a delicate sweetness mixed with a sharp, astringent metallic taste. the taste of blood. you nod weakly. he starts to move in, and out. in, and out. you can finally, finally feel it all now- the burning, painful heat coursing through your body like molten lava. the dull, delicious ache in your cervix from his cock slamming in and out, and scraping against your walls. every single cell in your body feels like it's finally alive and screaming…
the last thought that went through your mind before passing out was how beautiful yuma had looked, smeared in your blood.
yuma pulls out of you after finishing, catching his breathe. he notices that you're passed out cold, your chest heaving slowly. the blood smears on you… on the sheets… and on him. he doesn't know what to feel, his head suddenly feeling heavy and groggy, like a tonne of lead dropped onto him. he quickly reaches for the tissue box to stop the blood from your wrists. thankfully, it has lessened by now, and you didn't lose too much blood. you didn't cut too deep.
you're fast asleep. he gently cleans you up, disinfecting the wounds on your wrists and clumsily wrapping it with bandages to the best of his ability. the bedsheets are stained red, his face and neck are caked in your blood. it looks like a murder scene. but he'll deal with that later, he doesn't want to move you around and bother you from your sleep.
yuma lets out a sigh. he always noticed. your eyes empty, flat. like you're numb, and tired. for weeks, maybe months, it felt like you were going through the motions in life, not unhappy, but not happy either. nothing he did could change that. but today, for a split second, he saw it. a quick flash, just barely. your eyes alive. he wonders what he'll have to do the next time to see it again.
he presses a soft kiss to your bandaged wrists.
thank you @wanyangii for the request,,, it really resonates with me hhh. i felt cold and queasy when writing this that i had to change into long and thick pyjama pants. thanks for reading/liking/reblogging/commenting/sending asks
YAY thank you for the tag zanna! what sucks is that most of my biases have left their groups (in this year ALONE) 😭 that is NOT stopping me from adding them though!!
in order: vernon, dk (svt - ults), martin (cortis), keeho (p1h), hueningkai (txt), maki (&team), hongjoong, yunho (ateez), heeseung (ex-enha), ricky (ex-zb1, and2ble), mark lee (ex-nct, soloist)
tagging @yumangel @parkersroses @realmofclouds @reisdoll and any others who want to join!!
in order!! taki (&team), ni-ki (enhypen), sakuya (nct wish), mark & haechan (nct), k (&team), anton (riize), soobin (txt), fuma (&team), soul (p1harmony)
tags: @fumaid @ikigaijo @solairemelo @odetolune @okamitenshi @kvegawari @yumanohime @7yataki + anyone who wants to join !!
in order - yuma (&team), nicholas (&team), riku (nct wish), sungchan anton (riize), giselle (aespa), jay (enhypen), hyein (njz), liz (ive), keonho (cortis)
female idols included because i genuinely couldn't think of 9 different boy groups..... LOL
tags : @fumaid @n1conekoz @iluvujo @misuse-ohh @wanyangii @kvegawari @hwadulce no pressure~ anyone else that wants to join!!!
