hdavjje

[hdavjje]

part3 bllk twts :3

[hdavjje]

"Bllk tweets part4"

(deleted the earlier one, these are betta) :3

[hdavjje]

"a text from an ex?!" ⤵︎

🏷️ (ily yall sm)

@nanaswifeee @y-sabell-a @satoriberry

[hdavjje]

oliver aiku sends moaning audios. this man is too familiar with the game to not know exactly what play to make. grey sweatpants pics, moaning audios, aftermath photos. the whole nine. you send him something? he's sending back an audio clip so obviously jacking off to it, words drawn out as he pants out: "god do you... no you don't... you have no fuckin' idea what you do to me. oh fuck..."

[hdavjje]

it would never stop being funny to me that this almost 6’2 hunk of a guy who could crush you to death with one thumb was wearing blue crocs with cute rainbows, daisies, and bunny charms still fully intact 😭 it’s a fact that ppl in this field wear crocs on a daily basis though - they’re comfy and super convenient, esp in medical where you have to move around a lot.

also nathaniel’s pfp stated that he liked children so yeah. notice how none of the kids ever got frightened by his presence and just loved him to bits? i bet nathaniel even let them stuck more pop-up charms and hid his shoes whenever he visited their room for checkups 🥰🎀 peak family guy

[hdavjje]

“baby,” zoro manages, and when it doesn’t work, he gently tugs on your hair. 

you look up through your lashes, without unlatching, and nearly forget how to breathe. it’s jarring, almost, the warmth that pours into you at the quiet vulnerability in his gaze, tender and wanting and yours. 

you give his swollen nipple one more wet kiss, before raising your head to meet him with a small, coy smile. teasing, the way that makes your lover glow. “too much?” 

he’s too busy blushing to respond right away. you bring his hand down to your cheek, pressing the burn of his sweaty palm against your face. it makes you want to close your eyes, and you give in to the comfort with a faint sigh. 

zoro lets out a small grunt, turning his head to the side. it’s nothing new, your affection for him, but sometimes, you’re a little too good at making him feel embarrassed. what stays on you, though, is his good eye, molten silver and warm sea bleeding into you. 

he pretends to think about your question, for a bit. like the answer isn’t written all over his face. 

“no,” he denies, quietly. 

“... you’re tired, then.” 

“no.” 

“bored?” 

“never.” 

you blink your eyes open, and zoro’s frowning. it’s not that you don’t get him, he knows this. you just don’t want to act. 

“tell me,” you begin, “tell me what you want.” 

he swallows slowly, throat bobbing. he knows this game you’re playing, has played it before, countless times. but zoro doesn’t want to play. he wants you pinning him down by the neck and taking him apart, wants to sob and keen and thrash under your mercy, crying as you spill inside him again and again and again. 

“baby,” you murmur, your cheek smushed against his chest, and as tender as the word is, it’s a soft-spoken warning. zoro doesn’t think he can handle it if you go back to sucking his nipples. they’re soft and swelling, peppered with red and purple. too sensitive for his liking. “tell me where you want me.” 

this, he can do. 

he’s not the best at directions, zoro supposes. not that good with… locations, in general. his instincts take him where they want to go, and he follows blindly. some of the best decisions he’s made, some of the worst. 

but when he takes your hand, intertwining it with his, it’s steady and warm and full, and he’s never been more sure that this is the right thing. 

he places it on his stomach. “here,” he breathes. “i want you here.” 

[hdavjje]

I have a request for egg tarts jìngyí 1311! (Egg tarts💛)

He's intimidating and cold, so I can't help but imagine a male reader who crossdresses and likes to wear skirts, trying to give him hints or draw his eyes; sitting in a place within jingyí's field of vision as reader oh so casually lifts the side of his (already short) skirt a bit for him . . . . .... .

˖⁺. “ attention-whore ! ” : 

﹙ top mechanic naga boyfriend x bttm male reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 1311 jìngyí x male reader !! 🍒 : ﹙ mechanist ˖ naga  ˖ villain character ﹚

you keep trying to snatch the attention of a certain mechanist. while he's hard at work one day - you step into workshop with a short skirt and devious intentions. needless to say, he's tired of keepin his hands off of you 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ cross dressing reader ˖ fingering ˖ handjob  | wc : 1.5k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: finally some requests for jingyi 1311 thank you SO much for this and i hope that you enjoy it !

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

A grunt fills the workshop. Suddenly the cool counter that you are seated on pales in comparison to the pair of white eyes that find yours.

“欠扁.” ( infuriating )

Your brows perch. Head cocking to the side as a small, sweet smile slither to your lips. “Hmm? Everything ‘lright Jìngyí?” You lean your weight back onto your arms that support you from behind. Body cruxed in the perfect angle as your hand pretends as though it is merely fixing your short black skirt.

Tanned hands grip along the undercarriage of the vehicle he worked tirelessly on. The muscles on his arm flexing as he fully pushes himself from beneath the slew of mechanics he had tirelessly been picking apart at for the better part of an hour.

It is a job he could have finished in less. If it weren’t for your pretty self that trotted into the workshop. Batting your lashes at him and asking with that oh so sweet voice if you could - keep him some company since you are sooo bored.

Those white eyes pair with narrowed brows that carry a few drops of sweat. He swipes it off with the back of his knuckles after snatching his cloth and cleaning off his hands. A task he completes with some water once he pushes himself to his feet and rounds over to his sink.

“You are a fucking distraction.”

The mechanist appears before you in a matter of seconds. Those large hands that had worked skillfully with tools and gears now firmly planted on your thighs. His towering height making use of your leaning figure by dipping down to loom his shadow over you.

Reapers should be cold. A reaper snake hybrid should be frozen. And yet his hands are warm from work. Callous. As they slowly trail along the soft skin of your thighs. Slither under your skirt and graze his fingers along flesh that makes you gasp.

Your gaze finds his in haste. Startled by his immediate response and how good his rough palms feel under your skirt. “J-Jìngyí -”

“Hmm?”

Slitted pupils swarm your vision as his head swoops closer. His face with a thin sheen of sweat invading your personal space as he makes himself comfortable between your legs. A rough grip yanking your thighs to hook over his hips. Flush into his black overalls and bend you further. Hike your skirt up more.

What does it matter anyway? Didn’t you -

“Didn’t you want to show off?”

His pelvis weighs down onto yours. You take your teeth between your lips and suck in a breath. Of course this is the reaction you were looking for. It’s the one you’ve spun in you dreams time and time again. To be grabbed, manhandled - pushed and pulled as though you are a pesky invention unable to work well for him.

Cold lips ghost your ear. His large hands splay around your thighs and the curves of your hips. Squeezing. Groping. Feeling the skin that has been distracting him since you pranced on into his workshop and sat upon his countertop. Fucking distracting him from his work.

“Always showing me what is under this skirt. Always playing coy.” Pressure cups around your crotch. The heel of his palm grinds along the underside of your clothed dick and rips a gasp from your lungs. To think that such a cold, dry man could be so. . . forward. “Wanted my attention. Did you not?”

His sneer presses close to your face. Jaw tight. A practical hiss through fangs as his messy hair casts a shadow over his sharp gaze. One that makes your tummy twist. As though the feel of his hand roughly palming along your crotch is not enough.

“Well you got it now.”

A small, cold laugh leaves his lips. One of his hands bury into the back of your hair after promptly shoving you lower. So that the small of your back kisses the counter. So that his free hand shoves your underwear down to your knees - not before spanking the waistband on your thigh for good measure. All so that he can wrap his grip around your pulsing cock and jerk you off beneath that pretty skirt that you love so much.

All the while you are forced to look at him. Even when your eyes flutter. Your chest rises and falls with quickened breaths. Heat spreading over your face as your hips give small, needy bucks into his hand. The rough skin of his palm grazes just right over your sensitive flesh. To add onto the overwhelming feeling - his lips are on your neck in a matter of seconds. Flaring your insides despite the cold, open-mouthed touches.

“J-Jìng - hh. . . yí hah -”

Your whimper meets a rough tug your hair. He scoops your precum up with his thumb and swirls it around your tip. Slowly stroking and massaging along the slit before quickly, mercilessly circling his digit around the head. All while you try to tilt your head back despite his grip. Try to buck your hips faster. Squirm in his strong hold as you quickly take all of his focus rather than that damned car.

The twists in your tummy are your only warnings. Your fingers shoot out to curl into his dark vest. Squeeze at his arms as your lips part in pleasure. Your body convulses. Tenses. And you squirt all over his hand that squeezes so skillfully along your base. Thumb nursing an under-vein that eases a sob from your lips and another spurt of cum.

“Well would you look at that?” Jìngyí’s deep chuckle caresses your hair. Followed by a slew of rough kisses along your jaw, to the underside of it. “Needy little thing. I’ve barely touched you and here you are. Squirting all over the place.”

He tuts and shakes his head slowly. Flips your skirt off to watch the slick trickling down your poor, pulsing dick. Collect your cum along two of his fingers and aim a wad of spit for good measure. So that they might press between your legs further and circle along your rim instead.

“Jì. . . ìngyí wait -” you hiccup. Head flicked back when his digits start easing in. Your hips roll up in tandem. Chasing after his knuckles that continuously withdraw. Skillfully. Teasingly. In a fluid motion that drives you wild with the way he strokes the pads of his fingers along your gummy walls. “W-Want y. . . w-want yr’cock - p-please. please I-I want your cock instead -”

Your pants hiccup into moans the more his fingers move. Inching the long lengths deeper - just as you craved. Your thighs tremble and clamp - if only to receive a harsh spank from his free hand. Before he grabs at your left thigh and shoves it down to the table. Holding you in place as his fingers begin fucking your poor hole sore.

“Awww what? What’s that baby?” His fingers massage up against your sweetspot. A cruel grin meets your arching and soft crying. “Want my cock? Oh poor thing.”

The deepness of his voice only adds a vibration to the croon right above you. His fingers pump faster. Putting your own and any toy you’ve tried to shame ten times and over. He steers you back into them. Fucking you knuckled-deep and spilling drool from your lips with his mere digits.

“Cute to think you deserve it. Precious even. Just be happy with my fingers, fucking whore.”

Cold lips find yours in a messy kiss. His elongated tongue making itself comfortable past your lips. Down your throat as his hand aided your head in forcing it back. Taking his rough, messy kisses as his fingers rapidly pistoned below. A third adding to the mix soon enough.

“Come around here - hah -” another kiss. Heated pants. “Wearing all those pretty skirts. Showing off. Begging for it.” He grips your jaw. Squeezes.

“Better luck next time, pretty boy.”

You aren’t sure how long his fingers worked your hole. He’d keep alternating between your tight rim and your weeping dick. Making you squirm on the table. Kissing away you desperate pleas and cries for him to just fuck you.

Instead all you get is orgasm after orgasm. Until you were laid bare and whining on whatever motion of his hand had you squirming. Whining.

And when his fingers finally withdraw from your tight heat - what does he do?

Wipe the strings of click off on your inner thigh. Fix your skirt, grip at your jaw and press a rough kiss to the corner of your lips —

“Now run along. I have work.”

He leaves you there. A mess. Drooling on his counter. Throbbing for his cock.

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[hdavjje]

“I could leave at any time.” He said.

“Then why are you still here.”

Words laced with anger he’d never thought he’d hear from you. It really made him question his feelings. Would he throw his pride away for you? Or would he stand his ground.

“I.. I stayed because I didn’t want to be alone.”

That sentence was hard to choke out, to admit. Especially for him. This back and forth relationship was starting to seem like it wasn’t worth it anymore, at least to you.

“I’d rather be alone, than do this love, hate, thing with you every day.”

With those final words you shut the door behind you. Letting him sit in your absence and harsh truth.

��——————————————————————

This is open ended for multiple character to have in mind<3

My inbox is open!

[hdavjje]

Haru is lowkey that one friend who judges your taste in men.

Definitely.

-

"Seriously...?"

Haru stood in the doorway, his hand on the doorknob embedded with the spare key he had retrieved to Daisuke's room from the latter's roommate, remembering the reference book he had lended to the ravenette.

It was supposed to be a quick trip, not expecting Daisuke to be in his dorm since the man had texted that he was out and about. Instead, the liar was there...with his other two friends.

"I can explain."

(m/n), his face hot with embarrassment, slowly raised his hand that was previously clambering to unbutton Sousuke's jeans. He was on his knees still clothed, his back arched with Daisuke shirtless behind him pulling on his shirt whose face had somehow turned paler.

Sousuke was nonchalant, his face staring dead at Haru who was avoiding to look at the obvious erection in the redhead's pants. The three somehow mad themselves fit on Daisuke's single bed. Sousuke sitting on the edge with (m/n)'s face close to his crotch, the (h/c) on his knees with his shirt tugged by the half-naked Daisuke behind him.

It was obvious a spitroast was about to ensue.

"Couldn't you pick like, better men? Last week was that French guy." Haru complained, walking over to retrieve the book that had fallen to the floor from the trio's previous scuffle.

"French guy? What French guy?" Sousuke snapped his eyes to the (h/c), his brows furrowing and his grip on (m/n)'s hair tightening. "You slept with someone?" Daisuke's fingers dug into (m/n)'s hips.

"French guy??? I didn't meet any French guy??"

(m/n) looked confused, mildly panicking as he felt hands gripping onto him. Haru only left, snickering to himself as he hears the panicked yells of the (h/c), defending himself from the blonde's accusation of him.

"I need more friends." Haru sighed, locking the door back, slipping the keys into one of the shoes on the rack as he ignored the screams of his close friend trapped with two madmen.

-

Purr. Ask me for more short drabbles. Would love to write them.

[hdavjje]

had a dream griffin mcelroy was giving tours at the aquarium as like a special guest kind of thing and every time he’d stop in front of an animal he’d be like “alright gang gather round. i have no idea what the FUCK this is” and then we’d move on

[hdavjje]

ever since you've returned to the 'real' world, mr crawling's insistson cuddling you to sleep each night. he snuggles into bed before you do, pushing back the covers and holding his arms open with an excited "here, here! sleep, together!". he's a little cold to the touch - not that you mind. he presses his face up against yours and giggles when you kiss the apples of his cheeks. you think he might try to crawl under your skin and live inside of you if he could. he's like a clingy kitten, limbs wrapped around you and his face nuzzling the crook of his neck.

"me love you. you love me?" he asks.

you smooth back his hair and he gives you a lopsided, lovesick grin. "of course, i love you too."

[hdavjje]

haii ><,, i read your pampering fic w mr crawling and i js. UGH. IM SO IN LOVEEEE 😭😭 do u do nsfw drabbles/fics 🤔 i read in ur rules you DO allow nsfw so,, could i request something nsfw abt a first time with him ><??

First Time.

context: First time with your pookie wookie bookie puppy bear.

Homicipher. mr crawling x reader. | Anypov…(?). NSFW | tw: ectoplasm c*m

Nsfw isn’t my strong suit but I have fun challenging myself, I do hope you enjoy this!

first time? ..confusing. And complicated. And clumsy. But oh.. does it feel so good.

It’s definitely a lot of build up over a couple months, like first soft pecks, then making out, slow and clumsy touches.

You have to guide his hands yourself until he gets the hang of it, but I think he’s a pretty quick learner. He’s def good with his hands (I actually think he says that in the game at some point) and his tongue.. (😜)

I’d say your on your bed making out, straddling his lap, your tongues in a heated battle with each other while his hand roams your body and his other hand is gently cupping your face. You’re starting to subtly grind against him, and he makes a chirping noise.

You can feel his erection against your thigh, and when you pull back to look at him, he’s smiling widely at you. He grabs you by the shoulders and switches your positions, pushing you down against the mattress while he hovers over you. He’s whining and chirping, rutting against your leg and wrapping his big arms around you, burying his face in to your chest. He’s so whiny and desperate for you, clawing at your clothes to try and get them off.

I saw someone say he’d be on the smaller side, but yall see how fucking tall that man is?? I def think he’s atleast 6 or 7 inches ..skinny, veiny, with a slight curve.

He’s chirping and making all sorts of noises when he finally sinks in to your wet heat, rutting so sloppily and clumsily. You jolt from how cold it is compared to your hot gummy walls, making you shiver. He has no idea really what he’s doing, but it just feels so good he can’t stop, can’t help himself. How you clench around him, how good it feels, its driving him insane. Burying his face in to your neck and wrapping his arms around you so tightly.

You can tell he’s getting close because he’s getting more vocal and his thrusts are getting even more sloppier (somehow), and you’re clawing at his back, whimpering and mewling. Your walls clench around him, milking his purple-tipped cock, cumming with a sharp cry. His hips stutter as you ride out your high, and he slips out of you, shooting his load on your tummy, rubbing his grey ectoplasm cum all over your soft skin, giggling maniacally.

After you clean yourselves up, you snuggle up to him, pulling the covers up around you both as he pats your head and you drift off to sleep on his arms.

11/11/2024. 9:38 am. @i90o3

[hdavjje]

H-h-hey.. senpai… I was wondering if you could make more about Mr Crawling! (I LOVEDDD YOUR PREVIOUS FAN FIC ABT HIM) because he’s such a cutie tbh and I love him sm so I was wondering maybe if you could make something about how he would react to the reader spending more time with someone else (coworker preferably!)

Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do this..!

(Can I be 🦁 anon?)

the jealous type!

His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ omg my first anon >.< ofc u can be 🦁 anon!!!!

warnings. more fluff/comfort hehe, spoilers for end04

It’s late when you return home. If it was any other day, you’d be scheming around the streets with your crowbar- but life is different now. 

You have a commitment at home. Your new roommate… boyfriend? thing. It’s almost as routine as having a pet; coming home, giving him a pat on the head, giving him his completely normal legally obtained soup and ending the day snuggled up on the sofa with him at your feet. 

Sure, he’s the one who came with you all the way from that other world and didn’t have any friends here, but does that mean you can’t? It’s not like you could bring Mr. Crawling with you to work, or after work drinks with your coworkers. Normal people can still see him, after all. He’s just… a little hard for other people to notice- you picked up on that when your parents dropped by on an impromptu visit one evening.

When you kick your shoes off when you come in through the front door, you feel guilty. You can tell he’s a bit down- of course, Mr. Crawling still tackled greeted you with his overzealous, unnecessarily over the top hug. 

“You return!” he says, every time without fail. 

“I return,” you reply, petting his head, but something feels off. He doesn’t let go immediately, and his usual enthusiasm is muted.

Mr. Crawling pauses, his face stuffed into your neck. You quirk a brow, curiously eyeing him as he takes a big sniff of your skin and clothes. His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

Is he the jealous type? Wow, and since when was his sense of smell so good?

“You can smell my friend?” you blink at him, cringing as you feel a knot in your stomach. You try to explain, “Uhm… someone else… uhhhh… my friend.”

“Other friend?” Mr. Crawling frowns, sitting back on his feet, the space between you growing slightly colder.

You pull yourself up from the floor, careful to meet his uncertain gaze. “Other friend,” you confirm.

“Friend… same me?”

You sigh, wishing this language was more descriptive. It’s hard to explain something so complex when neither of you really understands it fully. You tap your fingers nervously against your leg, thinking. “I don’t understand…” you sigh, the weight of the misunderstanding settling on you. “They’re human.”

Mr. Crawling’s frown only grows deeper. He shakes his head, and scoots himself closer to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hair falling over the both of you as if trying to shield you from everything outside of your house. “Friend like this?” 

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a content sigh. “Not like this, Crawling.”

“You one. You me two. Not like three.” His grip tightens around you, pulling you as close as he possibly can, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Me like you. Worry… not like me. Gone long time… Smell someone else.”

You pull back slightly, feeling the pressure of his arms around you. He’s not just possessive, he’s scared. You stretch your arms out. “Like you. Big like. See? This much!” You hold your hands closer together, parallel to each other. “Friend ok. Little like. Understand?”

You chuckle lightly, but the soft pang in your chest makes you pause. “You get it now, Crawling?” you mumble. You reach up and scratch his head absently, a familiar gesture that seems to soothe both of you. “Uhm… when I leave, I go to work. You know work, right?” He nuzzles into your palm, and you just assume he does, for the time being. “Work friend! Not important. You important. You, uh… you understand me?”

“Me understand,” he murmurs into your palm, his cool lips tickling the skin. “Smell bad… Me only like you. You smell good."

"I know you like me, Crawling. I like you, too."

He lets out a satisfied hum, his body relaxing again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s truly getting it—or if he just likes the idea of being yours as much as you like the idea of him being yours. He pulls your head closer to his chest, and that’s when you decide you don’t really need to build rapport with your coworkers that much, not when you have a cute ghost waiting for you back at home.

[hdavjje]

do you write for mr scarletella? :) if so, may i request jealous scarlet who makes attempts to get closer to reader (court them) after seeing how close they are to mr crawling

persistence is key

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact. “What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. “You slow in head?”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ yeah idk, lowkey some enemies to (potential) lovers, i have no idea how to characterise mr scarletella, but i tried my best and then i kinda got a little too invested in trying to spin the fic the way i wanted and wrote a little more than usual... sorry if ur disappointed, i tried to keep the whole courting/jealous thing subtle but still kinda there >w<

warnings. canon typical violence >w<

You’re not sure when you met the man in red, but you know he’s stalking you now. And it’s getting seriously old. Unlike the ghosts and monsters you’ve had the pleasure of meeting, this one doesn’t know how to take a hint.

Your first unofficial encounter with him is something that sent shivers down your spine, tucked away under Mr. Crawling’s arm and clutching onto his kimono for dear life. The second encounter was much worse- separated from your other worldly protector and left running down an almost comically long and creepy hallway where he just magically appears in front of you. 

You don’t even think twice before you smash the crowbar into his form with all your strength, but it was futile the way he flickered? in front of your own eyes and left a weird moist residue on your weapon. You scowled, and rudely pointed a finger at him- “What the hell’s your problem, dude?”

In response, he leaned in close- so close that your nose nearly touched his. The tilt of his scarlet umbrella cast a dark shadow over you, and as he peered down, one black eye appeared from behind his hair, locking onto you with a soul-piercing stare. You felt stripped bare under that gaze, vulnerable and exposed, like he was seeing straight into your core, uncovering forgotten memories, pieces of yourself even you couldn’t remember. He smiled—a slow, unsettling curl of his lips that chilled you to your bones—and said something you didn’t understand. It sounded like a question, maybe, though you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care. You spat out a few choice words and swung again, hard.

At least for a while, he left you alone.

Has it been days, weeks, or even months since you’ve got here? It was difficult to keep track, and it was difficult to even care anymore. The place was, without a doubt, growing on you by the day. Even if it was filled with hostile creatures that wanted to eat you sometimes, and when your skin started to get discoloured and you had the inhuman itch that just could never be satisfied- it wasn’t that bad! Hell, you even made a few friends and claimed a comfortable bed in some random room you found.

However, just as you finally started settling into the place, you had your third encounter with Mr. Scarletella.

It started with a dream- from before you came to this world. That man in red… A test of courage, your friends called it- spending a night in those so-called ‘Ghost Apartments.’ Your friends hadn’t known it then, but you were quite familiar with the building for reasons, and set yourself up in a cosy corner and the night was supposed to sail smoothly.

A rumour had surfaced- a tale of a ruin that appears only on rainy days, where you’re warned never to give your name to the figure you’ll meet there. That figure, they said, would take your soul. At the end of a dim hallway, standing silently under a scarlet umbrella, he was waiting. The man in red, eyes hidden beneath his hair. He was watching you. Or was he? Somehow you could feel his stare even if you couldn’t see it. 

You woke up, heart pounding, muttering a string of curses. You groan, rubbing a hand down your face. The discoloration of your skin hadn’t gotten any worse, but it hadn’t gotten better, either. The longer you stayed here, the more the place left its mark. As long as you remained relatively human, and the only thing this place took from you was your memory, you weren’t too fussed. How could you possibly miss something from the other world when all you could remember was smashing a crowbar into someone’s head?

You swing your legs over the bed, feet touching the cold ground. The chill sent a jolt up your spine, and it was almost too tempting to get back under the cosy, warm sheets. You stretch your arms above your head, bones cracking and popping into place and mumble a hazy ‘Good morning’ to Mr. Crawling that should have been in the other bed. Silence wasn’t something you were used to around him- and you whip around so fast that you gave yourself whiplash.

Cursing, you grab your crowbar and stumble out of the room with a hand rubbing your tender neck. You didn’t need to look far- you could see Mr. Crawling at the end of the hallway.

And Mr. Scarletella. 

The man in red was bent over to be face to face with Mr. Crawling, all-too-familiar sinister smirk on his face. Mr. Crawling didn’t look so happy either, and they seemed to be having an argument. You stomp your feet as you make your way over to the two, hand tightening on your crowbar as you ready yourself to fight literal static if it meant leaving your best friend in here alone.

“You,” you scowl, pointing your weapon at him. “You problem?”

Mr. Crawling scurries to your side, a hand gripping onto your clothes. “Dangerous… should get away!” he urges, tugging. 

You shush him with a pat on his head with your free hand and continue to glare at that menace. 

“You like them?” is the only thing Mr. Scarletella asks with a tilt of his head, smile seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Glancing at Mr. Crawling, his face covered in worry- you feel the familiar itch of your skin. You take a breath, going through all the reasons why you can’t actually kill Mr. Scarletella, and loosen the grip on your crowbar. From what you can sense right now, he’s not actually that much of a threat. Just a nuisance that can’t seem to leave you alone. 

“Them friend,” you reply, deadpan. What type of question was that anyway? This guy was a freak. 

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact.

“What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. You turn back to Mr. Scarletella. “You slow in head?”

The smile on Mr. Scarletella’s face falters just for a moment, but it quickly returns, more chilling than before. He stands there, towering above you. Despite your snarky comment, he doesn’t look offended- no, it’s almost as if he’s intrigued by your resistance.

You tighten your hold on the crowbar. “You problem.” You frown. “Go away.”

Instead, his grin deepens, his head tilting at such an unnatural angle that you can feel your stomach churn. It’s as though he’s studying you, savouring every little bit of your discomfort. Surely, turning your head at that angle is gonna hurt… You audibly gulp.

“Problem later,” Mr. Scarletella says, and with an unsettling flicker, he’s gone. 

The next time you saw him after that was in less tense circumstances. It was unsettling after whatever that was with his coy little ‘Problem later’, you weren’t going to worry too much about it for the time being. You decided you’ll worry about it when the problem occurs, which probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas you had. 

The earth shakes, and you’re completely cut off from Mr. Crawling. Wandering down hallways, resting in random rooms- you never really felt alone. You turn a corner, dizziness growing by the minute, and pause.

“You again,” you sigh. You don’t even bother lifting your crowbar at him. “What do you want?”

He appears directly in front of you, causing you to stumble back a few steps at just how tall he is. He bends down to your eye level, umbrella covering both of you once again. “Give name?” he asks. 

“No. Go away.”

“Give name. Teach.”

“Go away!”

“Teach name.”

“Fine! My name’s… you pause. You didn’t actually have to give him your real name, did you? “...Silvair, or something.”

He gets closer to your face. You take another few steps back, but not before you get the smell of blood and dampness off of him. It takes all the willpower in your body to not scrunch your face up. 

“Wrong name.”

“So what? It’s a name.” You scoff. Mr. Scarletella is silent, eerily so, and you can feel his piercing gaze stare through you once more. You awkwardly avoid eye contact, and clear your throat. “I’m… gonna go now, okay?” You turn on your feet and only make it a few steps.

“You teach them name?”

Them? Mr. Crawling? That guy doesn’t even understand the concept of his own name! The scowl feels as if it’s permanently etched onto your face. You whip around, pointing another disapproving finger into his red raincoat. It feels fuzzy… and wet. It grosses you out, almost. More than Mr. Gap’s greasy hair.

“No,” you hiss. “I don’t even remember my own name.” He stares, silently.  “Me,” you point to yourself, “not know name.”

“...Not know name?” he echoes. What you said has him lost, you could see that. 

Just like that, he’s gone again. You don’t see him for a few more days, nor do you find Mr. Crawling. You spend your time aimlessly wandering, knowing eventually you’ll most likely find someone you know in a friendly manner, and not pondering if every ghost you come across is a friend or a foe. 

You awake promptly to a sound of a chainsaw revving. As if it was a morning routine, you stumble to your feet, grasping for your crowbar that should have, without a doubt, been next to you… only to grasp at air. Okay, now you are starting to feel a little panic.

Through trial and error, you knew that whatever wound you receive will heal, with time- but it doesn’t mean you were looking forward to being maimed to shreds with a chainsaw! 

“Hehe.”

You froze, heart racing, and slowly turn around. There that wretched little being was- the stupid little fucker in the goat costume. The ‘Hooded Child’, the thing was termed. In it’s stupid little fucking hands, it held you handy-dandy crowbar that’s been with you thick and thin. Your stomach churns. 

You gulp and face back towards the open doorway- a long black abyss, stretching on and on, with only the haunting bounce of that chainsaw, crawling along the walls. That chainsaw that was about to mince you in a matter of seconds. That chainsaw that was approaching you rapidly.

Frantically, you grab the nearest thing you could reach for. A metal chair. You wince. Probably not the best thing you could’ve grabbed, but it’ll have to do. It’s a matter of- well, technically life or life, but still! You could feel the sweat on your palms, the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your heart hammering through your ribcage. 

You lift the chair above your head as the monster comes into view- a tall, masked being in a strapless floor length black dress… wait, why was she dressed so sexy? Your surprise leads you to hesitate as she rushes at you with her machine. You let out a yelp as you whack the chair down in front of you, metal clanging echoing throughout the room.

Complete silence. Not even the sound of that chainsaw. Not even the sound of metal.  

“Huh?” You blink, once, twice, thrice at the sliced up body of that creature, blood splatter on your clothes. There was blood even on the ceiling, too… You drop the chair in utter confusion.  “What the hell?”

“Help you.”

“You again!” You spin on your feet, meeting the dull eyes of Mr. Scarletella. You’re about to huff and puff this guy into next week, but pause. You leave your accusing finger down by your side. This guy just saved you from that thing. You avert your eyes and scuff your feet against the ground with a cough into your fist. “Uhm… Thank you.”

Wow, this guy really has an intense stare… Way to make things unnecessarily intense and awkward. 

“Protect you,” he says. “You like me?”

“Take me out to dinner first, man!” you exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not like. You not bad. Not good. You okay.”

Mr. Scarletella dons an out of place frown that even makes you feel a little uneasy. “Them protect you. You like them.”

“Them friend,” you stress, finally meeting his gaze once more. You kind of regret it. This guy doesn’t blink. “You…” Weird? Off-putting? Freaky? “...unsafe.”

“Me safe. Protect you. Help you.” 

You sigh. “Unsafe to friend.”

He just stands there, holding that stupid umbrella, with that unblinking stare. You blink at him and squint your eyes. His facial expression doesn’t change. Completely unfazed. You can’t even tell if he’s confused, or upset, or whatever he could possibly be. Your breath hitches as his unsettlingly familiar smile returns.

He tilts his head. “Me good. Me show you.”

Then he’s gone again. You can finally breathe. Your heart is still pumping. You slide against the wall, landing on the ground and resting your head against your knees. You clutch at your raincoat with shaking fists. 

Mr. Scarletella - you knew he was meant to be dangerous, but he just saved you a whole lot of pain. Even if he was still a threat to Mr. Crawling, and hounds you for your name, asks you weird questions, could he honestly be as bad as you originally thought he was? You can’t deny that he did save you… but his presence is more dangerous than comforting. He’s both a threat and an aid, but never clear on which he’ll be at any given moment. One thing is for certain, however, and that was that he was persistent for your attention. Wait… 

Oh my good God, does he like you?

“Heh…”  Chuckling, you tuck your hair behind your ear. “I am pretty cute.”

You stand, and decide it’s better to think about while on the move back to Mr. Crawling. You reach for your crowbar, and curse. Of course. The Hooded Child took it with them when they disappeared when Mr. Stalkerella showed up. Well, you sigh as you drag the chair behind you as you exit the room, at least you have a temporary weapon, for now…

Making it back to Mr. Crawling didn’t take that much longer. He greets you, frown on his face and long arms wrapping around your waist. “Me worried! You gone long time!”  

“Long time,” you agree, bending down to his level. You ruffle his hair, a smile finally sliding onto your face. It quickly turns into a pout as you wave your empty hands. “Lost attack tool.” 

Mr. Crawling points to the spilled blood on your raincoat with a high pitched noise. You sheepishly giggle, and gesture to the chair behind you. He tilts his head, processing, before letting out his all familiar laugh. You sigh in content, glad to see a friendly face and let him pet you for a while. 

He stops petting you, and turns around. “Attack tool!” he smiles wide, your trusty weapon in his grey hands. “Them give me.”

“Them?” you repeat, taking the crowbar, twisting and turning it in your grasp. “Them who?”

“Them!” 

Curse this damn language. 

“Mr. Crawling,” you hold his face in your hands, “what look like?”

His smile falters, and if you could see his eyebrows, you’d imagine they would be furrowed. He takes a moment to think, and points to the blood on your raincoat, and attempts to imitate holding an…

Umbrella.

You stare. And stare. And stare. You can’t even begin to process what Mr. Crawling just said to you, debating maybe you actually were growing crazy and it was finally time to bounce out of this place- andddd of course, you notice a red flicker at the end of the hallway. You tilt your head past Mr. Crawling.

That scarlet umbrella tilts slightly, and just for a split second, you catch a glimmer of that piercing dark eye staring straight at you, as if watching every nerve fire under your skin. You can see his smile from here, as if it was a smug ‘I told you so’ but it was actually a ‘Me show you.’ 

Well… Mr. Scarletella did show you. And now you were just left, to put it simply, utterly fucking confused. It just drilled the narrative down deeper of the possibility that he did like you. So… what do you do now? Do you apologise for trying to smash his head in with a crowbar? For being so rude? 

How do you even apologise for something you don’t even remotely feel sorry for in the first place? Mr. Scarletella was creepy! …At least, he was kind of sweet. Not really- his intentions were anything but kind. But still!

You bite the inside of your cheek. …Is it wrong to feel a little flattered? There’s barely any romance in this place anyway!

In your world, things are either friend or foe, monster or protector. But Mr. Scarletella? He exists in some in-between place. Dangerous yet helpful. It’s as if he’s deliberately defying every category you try to force him into. And now, the memory of his unsettling question repeats in your mind- “You like me?” - echoing in your thoughts with a kind of twisted innocence that gnaws at you, a bit more with each repetition.

Mr. Crawling gives a soft, anxious chirp, tugging you slightly, drawing you out of your thoughts. He’s still eyeing the red figure warily. He points. “Them… dangerous? Them good?” 

“Not know,” you mumble, defeated. “Good, maybe.” You stand to your feet, crowbar falling off of your lap and clanging onto the floor. “Me, them, talk. You stay.”

Mr. Crawling makes a noise of protest, hand reaching out to grasp at your clothes. You reassuringly ruffle his hair once more, and make your way to the end of the hallway. You don’t hear him follow behind you.

Face to face, you stand in front of the smiling Mr. Scarletella. He stares down at you, unblinking, unmoving. 

“Can’t give name,” you remind him.

He leans his face down, ever so close. “Me like you.” A pause. “Want you.” Another pause. “You like me. Give me many human. Give me many blood.” 

Well… In your defence, you didn’t know your corpse dumping ground was Mr. Scarletella’s domain. 

“Getting in over your own head…” you grumble, and lift up your hand. You pinch your fingers together. “Little like you. Okay? LITTLE.” You wonder if this guy’s smile could get any bigger, geez… “You want big like?” You point your index towards him. “Be normal. Be good. Understand?”

“Normal? “Good?” He seems to chew over the words like they’re a foreign delicacy, his head tilting at that unnatural angle again. “For… you?”

“You good,” you waggle your finger at him, “I teach name. Maybe. If I can remember it…”

There’s an unnatural, prolonged silence in the air. You’re beginning to feel the awkward tension once more, but your resolve refuses you to break the unblinking eye contact you keep with him. 

And finally, he speaks once more, agreeing to your proposition, “You teach good, you teach name.”

You hold back your groan- whatever this dance you two were playing, was going to take a long time to progress.

But at least something is better than nothing, right?

[hdavjje]

Mr crawling would occupy any space that had your warmth and or smell lingering on it while your away, he doesn’t like being anywhere that didn’t smelt or felt like you in the slightest. He really doesn’t and will try to keep that singular spot warm and savour your sent until you come back home from work or other prior engagements where he couldn’t come with you to.

You hated leaving him behind just as much as he hated being left at home, eagerly waiting your return as he makes a man sift nest out of your clothes to sleep in since he couldn’t find rest without you nearby to hold and comfort him.

I firmly believe that mr crawling would follow you closely no matter where you went in the apartment, he always wanted to keep you in his line of sight in fear that you’d disappear on him if he were to look away, and unfortunately this leads to you becoming a little surprised with how close he always seemed to be each and every time.

Poor mr Crawling feels terrible for frightening you, his lips tugged downwards in a frown as distressed noises escaped him, but you were quick to reassure him with cuddles and kisses that you’d get use to this habit of his sooner or later while he burrowed himself into your arms.

Loves it when you stay inside to cuddle him or just spend the day with him, showering him in soft affection and sweet whispers, while running your fingers through his hair or running up and down his back soothingly as you both inevitably drift off to sleep.

Crawling loves to rest on top of you and so do you becuase he acts like a weighted blanket, albeit a little cold, and how he’d burry his head against your chest and intertwining his hand with yours so he doesn’t loose you as he drifts off to sleep. He was cute and endearing without even having to try and to that touch couldn’t help but hold him just that little bit tighter against you. The urge to pinch his cheeks and aggressively call him every sweet pet name you could think of was strong, however you held back on that for another day.

[hdavjje]

My new addiction

[hdavjje]