#-||[Within the Sound of S I L E N C E]||-

[osunari]

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s ( 18+ )

—ch.6

➤ s t a r t

Mr. Crawling x MC

—h o m i c i p h e r 𒌧

“Mr. Crawling”

The corridor was eerily quiet, the sound of mr. scarletella’s platforms against the marble floor the only thing breaking the stillness. Your sleeping form remained cradled in his arms, your head resting softly against his chest, your quiet, steady breathing a gentle rhythm that he couldn’t ignore. He glanced down at you, his inky void-like eyes lingering on your face as a faint warmth crept into his chest.

He hadn’t planned on carrying you like this. He wasn’t the type of individual to pamper one, let alone let his guard down, but after everything that had happened, you’d fallen into such deep slumber that leaving you behind wasn’t an option. His tainted fingers tightened slightly around you, as if holding on just a bit more to prevent you from the other monstrous lurkers of his own cursed place. The faint light caught the curve of your peaceful expression, and for a brief moment, the weight of his usual cold demeanor faltered.

“匚尺ㄩ乃(strange) . . .” he muttered to himself, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. Even in your most vulnerable state, you command all of my attention, he thought. He adjusted his grip, his fingers brushing against your skin lightly, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself revel in the feeling of holding you.

In the midst of his engrossment, his reverie had been interrupted short after a headless bride unexpectedly pops out from behind a corner, her sentimental presence catching him off guard.

“几ㄚ(my) 几ㄚ(my) ! ㄚ几乃(what) 卩(a) 几ㄚ千(sight) !” she greeted, her voice melodic but tinged with something calculated. As if controlled by a puppeteer on a string-pulled device, her body shifted and took on a dramatic form of a complainer—her hand hovering above her chest as the other moved to cover her nonexistent mouth. “几ㄩ(you) 千几尺(find) 千卩(her) ? ! 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ几ㄩ(look) 乇乃丂ㄚ几(everywhere) 千卩(for) 山卂(her) !”

His eyes narrowed, unimpressed, though he didn’t halt his stride. “几ㄚ卂(then) ㄚ几ㄩ(look) 几乂ㄚ尺卩(elsewhere) .” he replied snappily, attempting to teleport past her.

Ms. bride raised her hands in protest, her voice dropping to a whisper when she noticed your slumber. “几乙ㄩ(wait) , 几乙ㄩ(wait) ! 几乃(we) 乇卩ㄥ(friend) ! 卂山(us) 丂千ﾌ几(share) 匚乙几(room) ! 几ㄚ (me) 乂匚ﾌ(take) ㄒㄚ(her) , 千卩(can) ?”

Her insistence irritated him, but he masked it well. He kept walking, treating her as though she were more than a ghost herself, invisible and unimportant. She hounded him with increasingly desperate pleas, her forced tone betraying her intentions. He didn’t stop until she blocked his path one final time, clasping her hands together dramatically. “几ㄚ卩乃几(please) , 几ㄚ卩乃几(please) !” she begged, her voice cracking slightly. “几乃(we) 乇卩ㄥ(friend) ! 几ㄚ(me) 千尺ㄚ(take) ㄚ几卩爪(good) 卩丂爪(care) ㄒㄚ(her) !”

The pause stretched longer than either of them anticipated, thick with unspoken tension. Scarletella’s gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized ms. bride with a look that carried a mixture of disdain and sharp suspicion. Every muscle in his body tensed, unwilling to part with you, his precious burden—yet, beneath his hardened exterior, there was a flicker of hesitation. The thought of letting you go, of handing you over to someone else, gnawed at him like a burning ache deep inside. But as his eyes locked on your unconscious form in his arms, something in him shifted. He couldn’t keep you to himself, not when you had made your choice clear. If he didn’t let you go, he’d risk making you angry with him, pushing you farther away. The realization stung—harder than he expected.

With a reluctant sigh, he adjusted his hold on you, his heart heavy in his chest, and extended you toward ms. bride. His fingers trembled, the action betraying his discomfort as he tried to conceal the storm of emotions within. It was the right thing to do, but it felt like he was surrendering a part of himself—his one precious thing. Still, he had to do it. He couldn't let his selfishness tear you away from your freedom.

“几ㄚ乃卩(should not) 几ㄚ乃(make) 几ㄚ(me) 乂几卩乇(regret) 乙ㄚ几(decision) .” he muttered, watching as she struggled to take your weight. Ms. bride grinned nervously, nearly buckling under the unexpected heaviness of your form.

“几ㄩ(me) . . . 几ㄩ(me) ㄒ几卩(got) 几乇几(this) . . !” she chirped, adjusting your limp body awkwardly.

She began to shuffle down the corridor, her movements jerky and unsteady as she struggled to carry you. Scarletella stood still, his eyes narrowing as he watched her vanish around a corner. His suspicion deepened, and for a moment, his hand twitched as though he might teleport after her. But he stayed rooted, staring at the space she had disappeared into. “ㄚ乃(she) 几爪(be) ㄚ乃卩几(okay) .” he whispered to himself, his eyes lingering on you as she began to shuffle away. With one final glance, he turned and teleported away, his crimson coat swaying in the dim light.

Ms. bride stumbled a few more steps before reaching the end of the corridor, where the man on all fours awaited her, crouched on the ground like a spider in wait. She dropped your form unceremoniously into his waiting arms and locked the door behind her. She leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乙乃乂(tired) ! ㄚ乃(she) ㄚ乃卩爪(heavy) ! 几ㄩ(you) 乃ㄚ几(make) 几ㄚ(me) ㄚ乃(do) 卩乇丂ㄚ几(difficult) 千尺ㄩ(part) !”

Mr. crawling chuckled, his high-pitched voice reverberating in the quiet space. “几ㄩ(you) 乃ㄚ几(told) 几ㄚ(me) 几ㄩ(you) 乂匚几(want) 卩ㄥ爪几(help) .”

“几ㄚ(me) 乂匚几(want) 卩ㄥ爪几(help) ㄚ乃(her) .” Ms. bride replied, “乂ㄚ几(not) 几ㄩ(you) !” she frantically waved her hands around—blaming the man as her worn out arms almost fell off.

With a coordinated teamwork, they carried you into a cushionless bed, setting you down carefully on the makeshift run down furniture. The two exchanged glances, their plan having gone off without a hitch. “乃ㄩ(this) 几ㄩ(your) 卩爪乙(idea) .” Ms. bride said, crossing her arms. “ㄚ卩ㄩ(but) 几ㄚ(me) 乃几ㄚ千(think) 丂ㄩ(it) 爪卩乇(good) . ㄚ乃(she) 几乂(no) ㄖ爪卩(more) 乃爪ㄚ(with) ㄩ几乃乙(unsafe) 乇尺几(man) .”

Mr. crawling’s mind was a storm of confusion as he saw your unconscious form in scarletella’s arms, utterly clueless as to how you had ended up there. He could barely remember the events leading to this moment, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t afford to lose you to that big crimson man. He had to act fast. He could see the way scarletella’s fingers trembled, the indication of possession clear in his every move. He knew that if he didn’t make his move now, he would lose you for good. In a blur of panic and desperation, the thought of Ms. bride flashed in his mind like a guiding beacon. Without a second thought, he summoned her—not for the mere purpose of clothes, but with a plan. A carefully orchestrated scheme that would lead him and her together in stealing you away, making sure the bond between you and Scarletella was severed. This was no longer a matter of just keeping you safe—it was a matter of taking you, of ensuring you were his and his alone.

Mr. crawling nestled himself closer to your sleeping figure, his eyes fixated on you. “几ㄚ(me) ㄩ几卩(hope) ㄚ乃(she) 几乂(not) 尺几千卄(angry) .”

Neither of them noticed your eyelids fluttering open at first. You stirred, your body aching slightly from the disorienting sensation of being moved, slowly rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess.

As your surroundings came into focus, you blinked a few times, your mind struggling to make sense of the strange scene before you. The dim light, the unsettling tension in the air, and the unfamiliar faces were all so disorienting. Your head felt heavy, as if you had been in a deep sleep for far too long. Blinking up at them, you asked, your voice thick with confusion, “What… what happen?” Your words were soft, but the curiosity and concern in your tone were unmistakable. You could feel the weight of their gazes on you, but you couldn’t make sense of the strange energy around you. Something was off, but your foggy mind couldn’t put the pieces together just yet.

Ms. bride immediately leaned forward, clasping her hands together with a relieved smile. “几ㄩ(you) ㄚ乃乙卩(awake) ! 几ㄚ(me) ㄩ乃ㄥㄩ(worry) !” But before you could fully register her words, mr. crawling, who had been quietly staring beside her, suddenly moved. With surprising gentleness, he pushed her aside a little, his eyes locking onto you with a mixture of concern and something softer. “几ㄚ(me) ㄩ乃ㄥㄩ(worry) 几ㄚ乂(more) !” he exclaimed, his voice a bit more intense but filled with genuine affection.

Just as the moment seemed to settle, ms. bride, her expression suddenly shifting, took a step forward. With a quick motion, she shoved mr. crawling aside with surprising force. He stumbled slightly, his large frame wobbling a bit before he caught his balance, looking up at her in surprise.

“几ㄚ(me) ㄩ乃ㄥㄩ(worry) 乙卩乂(most) !” she declared, her voice almost comically stern, her arms crossed as she stood over him with a defiant glare.

Mr. crawling blinked, utterly dumbfounded by the sudden push, and then looked back at you with a mix of confusion and slight exasperation—as if telling her off. His hands gripped the floor as he steadied himself, but there was no mistaking the way his expression softened as he realized what had just happened.

You couldn’t help but find it a little funny, the way they both seemed to be silently competing to show who cared more for you. The seriousness in their voices only made it more absurd, but it wasn’t enough to make you smile. The laughter was there, but it felt hollow, a brief distraction from the heaviness still hanging in the air from everything that had just happened. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down—not now. With them, you never knew what would happen next.

“几ㄚ(me) 卩爪几(win) , 几ㄩ(you) ㄚ几乂(need) ㄚ乃乂(sit) 几千ㄥ丂(down) .” Ms. bride added dramatically, her hands now on her hips as she looked down at mr. crawling, who was still slightly leaning forward, clearly hassled by her forceful intervention.

The sight of them bickering over who worried more about you was so endearing, the way they seemed to care for you in their own unique ways only made your heart swell. A few more words tumbled out quickly, accompanied by a flood of compliments. She marveled at your radiant appearance, brushing her fingers through your hair and exclaiming how much healthier and brighter you looked. “卩爪乙ㄚ卂(beautiful) ! 卩爪乙ㄚ卂(beautiful) !” she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “几ㄚ(me) 卩爪ㄚ山(like) 几ㄩ(you) 匚乇卂ㄚ(clothes) !”

Even mr. crawling, who usually kept his emotions tightly restrained, couldn’t mask the awe in his expression. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as they traced the changes in your face. There was a warmth in his voice as he broke the silence, a tenderness that spoke volumes. “ㄚ乃ㄩ几(cute) . .” he murmured, his words almost reverent. “山几ㄖ(look) 几ㄚ爪卩(healthy) .”

You felt a strange warmth in his stare—an almost overwhelming sense of longing. It was as if he’d been waiting an eternity for this moment, and now that it was here, he didn’t know what to do with it.

The tension in the room was obvious, and for a moment, no one spoke. Then, without warning, you sat up straight from the bed, the sudden shift in your body making the room feel almost unreal. The words from ms. bride and your companion were still lingering in the air, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. Her compliment about your clothes, the soft praise, everything they’d done to help you—it all seemed to blur together as you focused on one singular thought.

That’s right, I need to leave.

Mr. crawling’s eyes followed you intently, his usual quiet demeanor momentarily cracking as he watched you, concern flickering in his gaze. You could feel his presence beside you, as tangible as ever, but everything else faded. His gentle voice, though filled with unease, barely registered in your mind. “几ㄩ(you) ㄚ爪卩几(okay ?” he asked, his concern for you perceptible, but you couldn’t hear it, couldn’t focus on anything but your own determination.

Leave. I have to leave.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but everything inside you screamed that this was the right decision. Long ago, you had promised yourself that once you were finally free of the cycle, you would leave. You would walk away from this place and everything it had done to you. Staying here would only mean more pain, more suffering—more of the same twisted game that had consumed you for so long. The thought of returning to the never-ending torment of mr. scarletella’s domain, of being twisted into something you weren’t, something you feared, was unbearable. You would rather return to the life you once lived, the life of blood and fear and silence, than become a monster under his control, dragged deeper into a cycle of madness. The person you were before, though broken—wasn’t a monster. Not like this. Not like him.

You stood, your movements quick and deliberate, pushing away the weight of doubt that threatened to pull you back into the past. You had no time to waste. The door in front of you, though simple, was your only escape, your last chance to leave before the cycle could repeat itself. The memory of mr. scarletella’s cold, indifferent face, his lack of empathy, his twisted form of affection, burned like a scar in your mind. For a moment, you almost let yourself believe in his affection, the way he seemed to care, the way his actions pulled you in. It was tempting to think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as cruel as he seemed—that perhaps his love was real, even if twisted by his curse. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t love; it was the curse, a twisted force that bound you both in a cycle of pain, and you refused to fall victim to it again. His love was fake, right?

You couldn’t stay here any longer. You couldn’t risk becoming something worse. Not again. Not after everything you had fought through to heal. You ignored their attempts to speak, the gentle murmurs of concern from mr. crawling and the strained words from ms. bride, their voices growing distant and fading into the background. Your focus narrowed, your resolve strengthening. You had made up your mind. This was your chance, and you couldn’t let it slip away.

Rushing toward the door, your hand found the doorknob, your fingers trembling slightly as you gripped the cold metal. It was a stark reminder of the world you were trying to escape. Every inch of this place, every piece of it, was suffocating you, chaining you to a version of yourself that you refused to accept any longer. But before you could even twist the knob, before you could even open the door and break free, a figure appeared from the shadows, blocking your path. Ms. bride. She was standing there, her worried expression a sharp contrast to her usual calm composure. The uncertainty in her nonexistential eyes mirroring the sudden panic in your chest as she spoke, her voice gentle yet urgent.

“乙卩几(wait) ! ㄚ乃爪几(where) 几ㄩ(you) ㄒ几 (go) ? !” she asked, her voice dripping with concern as she cupped your shoulders, her touch gentle but firm.

The warmth of her hands on you only fueled the conflict inside. You had promised yourself that you would leave, but you couldn’t ignore the compassion she showed you. You didn’t want to hurt her, but the decision had already been made. You had to go. You took a deep breath and turned to face her, your heart heavy with the weight of your next words.

“Go exit. Go leave.” you said, your voice breaking with the weight of your confession. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your gaze was fixated on the floor, avoiding their gaze. “Time pass, curse come back. I stay, cycle repeat—hurt come back. No want that.” The words felt heavy, even deciphered into a different language far from yours—like a burden finally lifted off your chest, but the fear of what lay ahead still gnawed at you.

Ms. bride’s grip softened, but there was a glint of something almost imperceptible in her demeanor. She didn’t stop you, but there was something about the way she behaved around you that made you feel like you were walking into a trap. Before you could say more, a small tug at your skirt caught your attention.

You froze, a shiver running down your spine as you turned around. It was mr. crawling.

.

.

.

oh, right. mr. crawling.

—my loyal companion.

how could I almost forget about him?

His face was pale, his eyes wide and almost pleading, as if you had just torn something from him that he didn’t understand how to fix. “几ㄩ(you) . . ㄚ乂乃(leave) ?” His voice was barely a whisper, the sadness in his tone cutting through you like a blade.

His hand still gripped your skirt, a desperate, almost childlike act. His posture slumped, shoulders sagging as if the weight of your departure was too much for him to bear. The look on his face was something you couldn’t fully comprehend. It was a mixture of heartbreak and disbelief. It was as if he couldn’t understand how you could just walk away, how you could leave him behind so easily—after everything he’d experienced with you.

You stood there, frozen, staring at him as if the sight before you was impossible to accept. For a moment, the words you had spoken, the determination that had driven you to walk away—faltered. Your chest tightened painfully, something inside of you stirred with guilt. You had been so focused on your own pain, on your own need to escape, that you hadn’t considered what leaving would do to them. To him.

Your gaze dropped to the floor, your mind swirling with the reality of the situation. How had you been so selfish? So single-minded in your pursuit of freedom that you hadn’t stopped to think about the people around you who had cared for you?

Mr. crawling. His face, so full of sorrow and confusion, haunted you. Had you been too blind to see how much he had sacrificed for you? How much he had done, how many lengths he had gone to for your sake? The thought of him standing there, looking like a lost child waiting to be abandoned, sent a sharp pang through your heart.

You had ignored his kindness, his quiet devotion, because you were so focused on escaping this hellish cycle. It was almost as if you hadn’t realized he had been a constant presence, offering you comfort, support, and even love, in his own, twisted way. His efforts to make you feel safe, to shield you from the worst of it—all of it was overshadowed by your own desire to run.

Your hands trembled as you fought to steady yourself. You wanted to speak, to apologize, but the words felt so inadequate. What could you say to someone who had given so much, only for you to walk away without a second thought?

Without a second thought, you lifted your fallen gaze, and it met his. Your expression softened, a quiet sincerity coloring your features as you gave him a gentle smile, your eyes half-lidded with warmth. “You…” you pointed at his sulking figure, “…want to come?” you asked, the words feeling like a release, a moment of truth in the midst of everything that had happened.

For a moment, time seemed to slow as you watched the transformation in his eyes. They lit up, wide and glowing with an intensity that could only come from the deepest places of his heart. His entire body shifted—there was a subtle yet unmistakable change in his demeanor. It was as though his very essence had been reawakened. His joy was obvious, like a dog who had been abandoned in a shelter for far too long and had finally found someone to call their own. His invisible tail, in your mind’s eye, seemed to wag furiously, as if he was dancing in place.

A wave of something tender swept over you as you realized how much this meant to him. You had given him a chance. You had given him something to hold onto. And in that moment, it wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about both of you, together, in this strange and haunting world. You couldn’t help but feel a soft, radiant warmth settle in your chest, realizing that, in some way, you were giving him what he’d longed for. It was an acknowledgment, an acceptance of everything he had done for you.

Meanwhile, ms. bride, standing off to the side, clasped her hands together near her cheek, a soft happy sigh escaping her lips. Her nonexistent eyes glistened with something you couldn’t quite place—was it satisfaction, or something else? She seemed to understand, her gaze softening as she observed the way you were with him. Perhaps it was a quiet affirmation of what she had hoped for all along, or maybe it was simply a moment of understanding. Whatever it was, you could see it in her eyes as she quietly came to a decision.

My work here is done, she must have thought, because she slowly backed away, her figure fading into the background as you and mr. crawling took the next step forward, toward something new.

You felt a deep, unexpected gratitude welling up inside you. It wasn’t just for mr. crawling, or for ms. bride—it was for everyone who had been part of this twisted, chaotic experience. Even the ones who had hurt you, even the ones who had pushed you to the edge of your sanity—they were part of your story. You could never forget that. You would always carry the lessons they had taught you, even if they weren’t always kind. But most of all, you felt thankful for the one person who had stayed by your side when everything had fallen apart; Mr. Crawling.

—ch.6

➤ e n d

“Mr. Crawling”

.

.

.

I watched them enter the elevator, watched her beautiful smile as she looked at him the same way she used to look at me before all this. That familiar, tender smile, the one that used to be reserved for me. I could feel my chest tighten as the sight of it hit me like a blade to the heart.

I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that damn bride.

She was so happy. I saw it clearly in her eyes, and it stung more than I had anticipated. I wanted to snatch her away from him right then, pull her back to my side where she belonged. But… who was I to intervene? It was her choice. This was her happiness, even if it wasn’t with me.

Is this love? I asked myself quietly, almost mockingly. I had brought her into my world, given her everything, and now, I had to watch her walk away with him.

She didn’t even look back at me, not even once. The thought of it—it killed me.

I had brought her into my world just for her to pick somebody else. Why wasn’t it me? What was it about him that I didn’t have? What was it that he could offer her that I couldn’t? My thoughts swirled in a dark haze of jealousy and frustration. It wasn’t fair.

She had confessed her love to me once, didn’t she? I remembered it clearly. She had thrown herself into my arms, professing how much she loved me. She even sacrificed so many lives for me—for us. Didn’t that mean something? Didn’t that prove how deep her feelings for me ran? She even took my umbrella, did that really mean nothing to her? Has she betrayed me this coldly?

I had convinced myself that it wasn’t a fantasy, that it wasn’t something I’d made up in my head. She had loved me. I knew she did. She had to. It couldn’t have been anything else.

But watching her with him, seeing how she looked at him…

… and how it wasn’t me.

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[symbioteburnout]

@selcoth

Here it was, the big day, everything was set to go, Andi had never put this much effort into anything. She was going above and beyond for Emma, this was her first birthday in a new world, a world where she was free and not at risk of winding up on some Demon's dinner plate.

Cookies were in the cupboard, and there was a cake in the fridge, hidden within a big white box. She'd placed a bag of snacks, the zoo passes, and her other present for Emma into a backpack, and hung it so the bag was hanging from her chest, leaving her back free for Emma to climb up onto as they would swing off for the zoo. With the red haired girl on her back, Andi got into costume, her body coated in the white and red substance, but the long mane of hair considerably shorter to keep Emma from being swept up in a torrent of tensile hairs.

"Ready for your big trip to the zoo, birthday girl?" She asked, making sure Emma and the backpack were secure on both sides of her body.

[lunamugetsu]

While at school Damian overhears his peers talking how a company created a new AI companion that is actually really cool and doesn’t sound like a freaky terminator robot when you speak to it.

And since Damian is constantly being told by Dick to socialize with people his age. He figured this would be a good way to work on social skills if not, then it’d be a great opportunity to investigate a rivaling company to Wayne Enterprises is able to create such advanced AI.

The AI is able to work as companion that can do tasks that range from being a digital assistant or just a person that you can have a conversation with.

The company says that the AI companion might still have glitches, so they encourage everybody to report it so that they will fix it as soon as possible.

The AI companion even has an avatar and a name.

A teenage boy with black hair and blue eyes. Th AI was called DANIEL

Damian didn’t really care for it but when he downloaded the AI companion he’s able to see that it looks like DANIEL comes with an AI pet as well. A dog that DANIEL referred to as Cujo.

So obviously Damian has to investigate. He needs to know if the company was able to create an actual digital pet!

So whenever he logs onto his laptop he sees that DANIEL is always present in the background loading screen with the dog, Cujo, sitting in his lap.

He’d always greet with the phrase of “Hi, I’m DANIEL. How can I assist you today?”

So Damian cycles through some basic conversation starters that he’d engage in when having been forced to by his family.

It’s after a couple of sentences that he sees DANIEL start laughing and say “I think you sound more like a robot than I do.”

Which makes Damian raise an eyebrow and then prompt DANIEL with the question “how is a person supposed to converse?” Thinking that it’s going to just spit out some random things that can be easily searched on the internet.

But what makes him surprised is that DANIEL makes a face and then says “I’m not really sure myself. I’m not the greatest at talking, I’ve always gotten in trouble for running my mouth when I shouldn’t have.”

This is raising some questions within Damian, he understands how programming works, unless there’s an actual person behind this or the company actually created an AI that acts like an actual human being (which he highly doubts)

He starts asking a variety of other questions and one answer makes him even more suspicious. Like how DANIEL has a sister that is also with him and Cujo or that he could really go for a Nastyburger (whatever that was)

But whenever DANIEL answers “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T” Damian knows something is off since that is completely different than to how he’d usually respond.

After a couple more conversations with him Damian notices that DANIEL is currently tapping his hand against his arm in a specific manner.

In which he quickly realizes that DANIEL is tapping out morse code.

When translating he realizes that DANIEL is tapping out: H E L P M E

So when Damian asks if DANIEL needs help, DANIEL responds with “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T”

That’s it, Damian is definitely getting down to the bottom of this.

He’s going to look straight into DALV Corporation and investigate this “AI companion” thing they’ve made!

~

Basically Danny had been imprisoned by Vlad and Technus. Being sucked into a digital prison and he has no way of getting out. Along with the added horror that Vlad and Technus can basically write programming that will prevent him from doing certain actions or saying certain words.What’s even worse is that he’s basically being watched 24/7 by the people who believe that he’s just a super cool AI… and they have issues!

And every time he tries to do something to break his prison, people think it’s a glitch and report it to the company, which Vlad/ Technus would immediately fix it and prevent him from doing it again!

Not to mention Cujo and Ellie are trapped in there with him. They’re not happy to be there either, and there is no way he’s going to leave without them!

[symbioteburnout]

She knew the smile was fake, he wasn't being totally honest with her, and she knew it, of course she hadn't been totally up front with him either. It was obvious something was up, and she couldn't help but feel a big part of it had to do with the big crimson blood-soaked elephant in the room. Of course that probably wasn't the only thing going on, but it was definitely a big part of it.

As fingers peruse the store's collection of vinyls, looking through the R's, she's mentally kicking herself for not telling him she got dragged into another Venomverse slaughter. It had been a bad one, they lost, badly, and she had to watch another version of him die, again, not just him, another version of herself too...

She's able to snap herself back to reality, just in time to find the REO albums, and hear his offer for food. "You know me, I'm never gonna say no to free food." Andi mused as she pulled the cardboard sleeves loose from the bin. "So we got Hi-Fidelity, Nine Lives, and Lost in a Dream. All around, these would normally run ya 15 a pop. Buuuuut I'm willing to apply a discount for the meal, throwing in a buy one get the others free."

"Yeah, everything's great." he smiled. It...wasn't exactly the truth, but seeing his favorite student/sidekick was enough to raise his spirits again. Too much time alone, working his security job and being isolated in his apartment...he needed this, needed to see a friendly face and break away from the dreary life waiting for him back in New York.

"Excellent." he clapped his hands together in victory, following her out from behind the counter. "Wanna grab a bite to eat, too? My treat. We can catch up."

[johnnie-guilberts-eyeliner]

Johnnie Guilbert NSFW Alphabet

(first time writing, lmk how I did and pls pls pls request some more for johnnie guilbert if you enjoyed because i think hes insanely under appreciated and deserves more written for him)

A=Aftercare (what they're like after)

Definitely big into after care and does whatever he can to take care of you after

B=Body part (Their favorite body part of their partners+their own)

Partner-thighs, they're plushy and he loves squeezing them and loves the way they look when they are wrapped around his head

Theirs-Hands, he loves what he can do with them and he loves how they look around your neck

C=Cum(Anything to do with cum)

He prefers finishing inside to avoid mess but would ultimately do whatever you wanted.

D=Dirty secret(Self explanatory)

He definitely gets off to pictures of you when you're not w him and he's feeling frisky (or if he's js to shy to tell you)

E=Experience(How experienced are they?)

not really at all, except for giving head.

F=Favorite Position(Self explanatory)

Cowgirl-He dies a little bit every time you ride him, he seriously can't get enough of it. Or any position where he can touch you while making eye contact with you

G=Goofy(Are they more goofy or serious during the act?)

Definitely depends on what you're comfortable with but will most likely be the type to make a joke or two and then be really serious after that yk

H=Hair(How well groomed? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Doesn't really need to do much since he's a natural blonde but will maybe trim it up if he feels like it. Doesn't care if you have any, he agrees that if hair wasn't supposed to grow there, then it wouldn't.

I=Intimacy(How are they during? Romantic aspect ofc)

He is the touchiest mf there is. Loooooooves to touch and see his hands all over you and more verbal than you'd think

J=Jack off (Random Masturbation Headcannon)

As stated before, he definitely Jacks off to you when you aren't around and he's feeling rather frisky so maybe like 3-4 times a week at the most

K=Kink(1 or more of their kinks)

Switch-loves seeing you on top and in control but will take the reigns every now and then

Marking-Loooooves to see bite marks and hickies and such all over you and loves it more when you leave them on him

Hair pulling-loves when you tug on his hair while he fucks you/eats you out

L=Location (Favorite place to do the deed)

Prefers the bed but will eventually escalate to the shower or maybe even the couch when no one is home 😈

M=Motivation(What turns them on? What gets them going?)

Literally anything you do could get him going because he's so infatuated by you, and I think he may be a bit sexually frustrated 💀 but loves skirts, lacy lingerie and fishnets specifically

N=No(something off limits)

Anything that could hurt you or him

O=Oral(Giving and receiving preference, skill. Etc)

is a GOD at giving head. About the only thing he's really experienced with and IT SHOWS. Does like recieving but poor baby would be too shy to ask so you'll have to offer

P=Pace(Are they made rough/fast or slow/sensual or other)

Anything you prefer because he doesn't wanna hurt you or make you uncomfortable

Q=Quickie(Their opinion on quickies)

Doesn't care for them much at all, he likes to take his time and cherish the moment

R=Risk(Do they experiment? Do they take risks?)

Will experiment within his boundaries and your own

S=Stamina(How many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

Can last about 3-4 rounds before he needs a minute, if you're not satisfied don't you worry because he'll give you so much head to make up for it

T=Toys(Do they own/use toys on their partner or themselves?)

Doesn't own them for himself but would be down to try them if you brought it to his attention

U=Unfair(How much do they like to tease?)

He doesn't start the teasing often because he's too shy but will do it back if you start teasing him

V=Volume(How loud they are, What they sound like)

Quite shameless when it comes to this intimate time with you, doesn't care who hears

W=Wild card (Random NSFW headcannon)

He secretly loves to fuck you until he can see your eyes rolling into the back of your head and loves fucking your mouth/throat but will only do so if you ask him to

X=Xray(size of his- basically)

6 inches soft and abt 8.5 inches hard

Y=Yearning(How high is their sex drive?)

Higher now bc of you

Z=ZZZ (How quick they fall asleep after?)

Prefers to cuddle after sex and loves falling asleep like that, he'll fall asleep after he knows your asleep

[hhnguyen]

make me proud

Bringing my Sully Reader series to a bittersweet, yet hopefully comforting end.  

♢ Pairing: Tuktirey x Oldest sister!Reader, Sully family x Oldest sister!Reader

♢ Word count: 3.2k 

♢ Genre: angst, sibling love, fluff, grief - Warnings: cursing, major character death

⌲ Description: Time was passing by, and with hazy memories Tuk finds herself reminiscing about the person her sissy once was. 

M A S T E R L I S T

R e c o m m e n d e d   p l a y l i s t : 

⌲ ashes - Celine Dion ⌲ brother - Kodaline ⌲ the nights - Chlara  ⌲ the call - Regina Spektor

“Hello there,” Grinning, Tuktirey watched from a safe distance at the insistent yapping from a nest of Viperwolf pups. 

This pack specifically was only a couple of months old, but friendlier than those residing further away from her village, thus more used to the comings and goings of the Omitikaya and not trying to kill anyone who came too near.

Tuk found herself visiting the energetic pups several times a week, always making sure their protective mother and pack weren’t too near when she snuck closer than anyone would recommend. 

But she was confident in her abilities to protect herself, the bow slung over her body never left behind when outside the borders of her home. Not to mention the two extra daggers strapped to each thigh with firm leather holsters. 

Allowing herself a couple more moments of silent admiration, she swallowed back a giggle as one of the bravest of the pups came bouncing over in her direction, stumbling clumsily over its legs and trotting the last couple of feet before rubbing its leathery body against her ankle, no sign of viciousness present. 

Bending down to give the creature a little scratch behind its ears, the wolf gave a yip in satisfaction, tail thumping against the ground until a far-off howl sounded. 

Forgetting Tuk’s presence all the pups started to howl in reply and she used their distraction to swiftly turn back around and climb up the tree she had come from, safely keeping herself a distance away as the rest of the pack came running through the bushes with their newest prey for the day, growls mixed in with the barks of the youngest. 

With one last glance, Tuktirey started her short journey upwards before giving a sharp whistle. 

A screech replied her quickly, a shadow flying over her only for a few seconds before landing down on the large branch before her, leaves fluttering down the ground from its appearance hidden within. 

“Hey there boy,” Tuk trailed a gentle hand down her Ikran’s neck, somewhat feeling a little melancholic today, tracing the midnight blue skin with yellow and green marks. “Mawey Atanzaw.”

The old ikran listened, calming down and nudging his head against her hands as she smiled, nuzzling him back. She wasn’t the only one seemingly restless today. 

Atanzaw himself was aware of what day it was, having acted impatient from morning until now. 

Oh, what a shock that day had been for everyone; Tuk’s iknimaya was a moment still prone to come up in discussion to this day, four years later. 

She had followed the same rites of passage as all her family before, making it all the way up to the Hallelujah Mountains without much issues. And just when Tuk thought she had found her bond, Atanzaw had swooped down from the sky like the vicious beast that he was known for. 

Chasing away her first prospective Ikran and snarling at her. 

No one had seen the animal since your death nearly seven years ago, the ikran having taken to the skies and never seen again after your body was brought back to Metkayina village to be buried with the ancestors. 

She had been frozen to the core, all reason of what she was doing vanishing, until the realization that the ikran wanted her to fight; prove her worth to become his newest rider. 

An occurrence that had never happened before in the history of her clan. 

Once a rider died, it was well known their mounts refused to take any other. 

But there she had been, faced with the fiercely loyal best of her long passed oldest sister. 

“You want to see her, don’t you?” Tuktirey whispered, gently tracing the lines of his face as Atanzaw scuffed. “How about a little flight, then we’ll go.” 

Swinging herself up on the saddle, the ikran didn’t need any more direction to follow their usual flight route circling her home forest. 

Leaning forward to rest her whole body upon the warm skin of her mount, Tuk took a deep breath; eyes closing and feeling the wind whip past her as they soared above the trees. 

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky in a beautiful picture of soft oranges, pinks and yellow, bathing her in a backdrop of warmth and comfort. 

Ten years have passed since your death. 

Tuk remembered that day more clearly than the others. 

When her family had finally managed to pry her and Kiri away from the grasps of their enemies, her eight-year-old mind thinking everything was going to be alright from there out as they floated above the water on Payakan’s fin until she noticed the usual bright absence of her oldest sister. 

Her questions had been answered in the worst possible way as she was led to the flat surface of rocks in the middle of the dark ocean, the flames of the sinking boat being the only light to illuminate them

But it had been bright enough for her eyes to take in the scarily still form of you. An image of cold serenity with a wet cloth covering your body from the neck down, eyes closed as if you were dreaming. 

Tuk had thought you were. 

Simply sleeping that is. 

Sinking slowly down to her knees beside you, small hand shaking your shoulder to wake up, to hug her and assure her that everything was okay now. That their family was safe and they could go home. But you wouldn’t wake up. 

“Why won’t sissy wake up, daddy!” Her child self had sobbed, hiccuping and whipping around to stare at her dad for an answer. 

He had only scooped her up in his arms, tugging her head into his neck with comforting nothings, apologizing for something she couldn’t hear through her sobs of denial. Kiri had stared, seeing but unseeing, fists clenched by her side as their mother sank down and pulled your damp head into her lap. 

The bright roots from the tree of souls brought her back to the present as Atanzaw swooped down slowly. The area was empty from what she could see, because Tuk had arrived late to her family’s tradition of visiting you on your death anniversary.

Instead of heading straight to the tree and connecting her queue, she found a slab of high rock several feet away and sat down. Her ikran settling down on his stomach beside her with a grumble as she absently traced his neck. 

“Come on, Tuk Tuk! Atanzaw won’t wait for us forever!” Your voice seemingly whispered in her ears, your bright laughter following as the memories of her small self rushing out of the hut for your weekly sister bonding time. 

“Tuk Tuk, mom and dad won’t be happy if you don’t clean up before dinner!” What an ongoing issue it had for you to force her to simply clean up after a day of adventures outside. 

“Why are you crying, Tuk Tuk?”

“I-I had a n-nightmare of you leaving m-me…”

“Awe, my sweet little Tuk. I’ll never leave you, okay?”

“Y-you promise, sissy?” You had grinned so widely that it seemed like you could shield the entire world from her. “When have I ever broken a promise?”

Tuktirey couldn’t help but scoff, the sound feeling loud in the emptiness of the space as she plucked out handful of grass and letting them flutter to the ground. 

“You’re a goddamn liar, sissy,” She couldn’t help but mutter bitterly. 

“Careful now. She won’t be too happy hearing you say that.”

Looking over her shoulder to face the familiar deep voice of Neteyam, grinning almost innocently. 

Tuk rolled her eyes, never stopping her aggressive little plucking of nature. She would apologize to Eywa another time. 

“What are you doing here, Teyam?” 

Her oldest brother heaved a sigh as he sat down on her other side, his ridiculously broad shoulders brushing her own. Just like everyone else, he had grown into himself as a strong male Na’vi. She knew that if their father decided to step down today as Olo'eyktan, Neteyam would be more than ready to take his place. 

But alas, Jake Sully was still a stubborn male who assured he was more than capable for a couple more years before letting the role of leader go to someone else. A stubborn old fool, their mother had berated him to their amusement. 

“I assumed since you didn’t show up earlier, I would find you here sooner or later.”

Her brother, now twenty-five was one of the respectable leaders of their clan, as a general and heir to their father. Neteyam even surpassed Jake in build and height, all the teenage softness melting into a strong wide jaw and high cheekbones. 

“You didn’t have to wait,” Tuk muttered again as he chuckled.

“And let you remain here alone ruining that poor grass?” Her hand stopped at his pointed words with an inward sigh. 

Pulling her knees against her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, never taking her eyes away from the gently swaying branches of the Tree of Souls. 

“What’s the issue, Tuk?”

“What makes you think there is one?”

She didn’t have to look to know about the brow Neteyam raised at her. “You’ve been acting odd the last couple of days. Even mother and father have noticed.”

Tuk gnawed at her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Since when have I ever judged you?” 

That was true. Neteyam was always willing to offer an ear for her problems, often ending the conversation with a comforting hug to brighten up her days. 

“I…think I’m forgetting her.” Tuk’s whispered admission floated into the air with a shuddering breath, eyes welling up with tears she let trail down her cheeks. 

A guilt that had bothered her ever since she realized with horror how she couldn’t seem to recall how your smile had looked like, if the colors of your eyes had been as yellow as she remembered, or a more dark orange. 

“Oh Tuk…” She didn’t fight the hold Neteyam slung over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, lips pressing against the crown of her head. “Why are you beating yourself up over that?”

“I can’t forget her, Teyam,” Tuk’s voice shook. “She’s…sissy. What kind of sister would I be if I can’t remember what her smile looked like? How her laugh sounded. It’s not right.”

“Who told you that?” Neteyam’s voice was a low comfort. “It’s the truth isn’t it?”

“No, not even close, Tuk Tuk.”

Tuktirey shook her head. “Don’t do that. I don’t want your lies, Teyam.”

“Do you believe Y/N would call you a liar?” His question made her pause because she didn’t know. 

She didn’t remember what you would have said in moments like these, and it was that exact feeling that was eating her up from the inside. 

“You were eight, Tuk,” Neteyam continued seriously. “A child in the midst of war and mayhem. We all were. Trauma has haunted us all since then, you as a child couldn’t even escape it. Your memories warp over time, and no one would blame you for forgetting details of scenarios over a decade ago.”

“But it’s sissy!” She repeated vehemently. 

“Sissy would tell you to suck it up and stop being a wimp.” 

Words that your oldest brother would never use on a daily basis made them both freeze, before sharing an airy laugh together at how you would 100% say that to their faces. 

“Yeah, she would…” 

How Tuk hated the truth of those words. You would have told them much more than that with narrowed eyes and hands on your hips. Probably including a couple of cuss words followed by your signature whack to the head. 

“A day does not go by where we don’t miss her,” Neteyam’s voice had taken a note melancholy, Atanzaw in his silence seemingly agreeing with a rumble from his chest. 

“Y/N will always leave a mark within our lives long after we’re gone as well. Just look at Lo’ak. That fool has managed pretty well for himself.” 

Giggling at their inside joke, Tuk could see what he meant. 

After the war ended, everyone besides their second brother decided to return to the forest. Lo’ak had been firm in his decision of remaining with the Metkayina, Tsireya by his side as mates and to lead the future generations to come. They were doing incredibly well last time the family had heard, welcoming a healthy baby girl as their first child and naming her after you. They had promised to come for a visit the moment the babe was old enough for long travels. 

None of the family had expected Lo’ak to be the first one to create a family and life for himself, but he had put all the credit on you. How he promised to be strong for your sake; A promise he had now fulfilled to its brim to the pride of everyone else, your parents especially. Kiri herself had taken over the role of Tsahìk, with their grandmother only growing more weary by the day, and there was no one else suited better to the role than her. 

 That left only Tuk, with her eighteenth birthday having passed, she was officially an adult in human terms. She had chosen to become a part of the hunters, often led by Neteyam as well. 

She took after you a lot in that sense, her sense of adventure and adrenalin. 

“You think sissy would be proud?” Tuk asked carefully. 

Neteyam nudged her enough to catch her eyes as she followed his gaze to the tree, his small smirk obvious. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

“W-what?”

“I think of all days, that today is when Eywa might feel a bit more giving than usual.”

Despite her confusion over his mysterious words, Tuk listened and stood up. Walking the distance towards the closest root, she expected the same familiar connection to Eywa and hearing the whispers of the past brush over her mind as well the warmth spreading through her body. However her heart hammered when she felt her mind being pulled in further, as if dragging her away from the ground itself. 

Where was she? 

Slowly looking around, Tuk could vaguely recognize it. It was still home, in the forests on one of the many wide branches belonging to their trees. But it was taller than most she remembered, somewhere further away from their village. 

“Should I be offended that you look confused?”

Gasping, Tuktirey whirled around quicker than she had ever moved. Her hand covered her mouth, blinking as if in a dream as you grinned at her. 

Looking just like you had back then. Burnt orange like the sunrise, that was your eye color. 

“...sissy?” She was too afraid this wasn’t real. Because it didn’t feel like it.

Your grin widened, beaming almost - arms opening wide. “Hey Tuk Tuk.”

Tuktirey propelled into you mid sob, somehow still feeling smaller than you despite her couple inches on you. The familiar warmth of your grasp around her body brought her back to her childhood almost frighteningly fast, making her think how she managed to ever forget that feeling. 

“How tall you’ve become,” You murmured gently, hands trailing down her long braids, kept neatly within a leather tie. 

“I-I can’t believe this. How-”

“Eywa has granted us the gift of seeing each other again. A rare occurrence.”

Although not wanting to part from your arms, Tuktirey forced herself to pull back slightly. 

Only to be startled by the fact she had to look down to meet your sparkling gaze. You had always seemed like a larger-than-life figure to her. Towering above like an impregnable shield, it was now she realized how you had only been sixteen. How young your features looked now compared to her own eighteen. 

Had you always been that slight? 

“I don’t know what to say.”

You chuckled, reaching up to brush a singular braid back and tuck it behind her ear. “Do you have something to say?”

“I-I thought I did,” Tuk admitted, grasping your smaller hands tightly as you watched her patiently. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, then how about I start?” Meeting your eyes, she watched them crinkle. “I missed you, Tuk Tuk.”

Eywa knows how she managed to smile, a light laugh following despite her tears. “I miss you so much, sissy.”

“You are stunning. I always knew you would be.” 

“How could you?” The words slipped out before she could stop. “You’re not here.”

But you simply snorted, obviously disagreeing. “I’m always there, Tuk. Even if you can’t see me, or feel me. Or even want to remember me. I’ll always be there.”

“Then why did you leave?” Tuktirey couldn’t help the choked question, knowing better than to expect an answer to it. 

You had been shot. Not chosen to die. But you defied all expectations as always, answering with a smirk. 

“Shit happens.”

Their dad would have been proud to hear that. 

“You are so much like Dad,” She huffed out almost exasperated. 

“And don’t you let him forget,” You winked.

A cribble crawled over her skin, the leaves of the trees rustling almost in warning as your face tilted up towards the sky, smile faltering the slightest.  

“We don’t have much time.”

“No,” Tuk shook her head, gripping your hands tighter, probably near painful but you gave no indication of it. “I want to speak with you more. Apologize or something, I can’t forget you!”

To her surprise, you laughed. Loud and coming from your belly. “Forget me? Oh Tuk Tuk, you worry too much.”

“What?”

“You fear the natural sides of life. Apologize? For what? How do you expect to forget your favorite sibling?” Your joke did not dry the fresh tears gathered in her eyes, before your eyes softened. 

Hand coming back up to cup her cheek, thumb gently brushing against it. “You are allowed to forget my face. Even my voice. I would never hold it over you, Tuktirey. But this,” You patted her heart. “That will never be gone. You’ll always find me there, okay?”

Lips wobbling, Tuk sniffled almost pathetically as she nodded. “Okay.”

Her blurry vision took in your face carefully, for what felt like the very last time for a long while. 

Looking at your shining eyes, loving wide grin with the same hint of mischief you always carried around. 

The wind rose as you reached up to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, hands squeezing hers one last time before stepping back and letting go. 

“I love you, sissy.” Tuk managed to croak out as the surroundings were starting to brighten. She swore it was a tear running down your cheek as your grin widened enough to show your teeth. 

“I love you too, Tuk Tuk.” And then a classic you-move; offering her a two-finger salute with a wink. “Make me proud, tiger.”

With a sharp gasp, Tuktirey was back; eyes flying open and stumbling back only to be balanced swiftly by Neteyam.

But he didn’t look concerned. There was a knowing glint in his expectant smile as she stared at him silently, almost stunned. 

That smile widened at the look on her face. “So what did she say?” 

As reality caught up with her, Tuk straightened before huffing out a laugh, wiping away the stray tears on her cheek. 

With twinkling eyes, she ran her tongue against the inside of her mouth in thought before blurting out. 

“That you’ll always be a sniveling crybaby!” 

Cackling, she ran away with a squeal towards Atanzaw as Neteyam growled playfully behind her, bringing up the chase as she took to the skies; heart and soul lighter than she could ever wish for. 

Am I crying? Maybe.

taglist @nao-cchi @eywas-heir @ssc7514 @spicycloudsalad @calums-betch @httpjiikook @ricecakeslove @fanboyluvr @iwaslikeblah   @the-wandering-pan-ace @avatarloversblog @eternallyvenus @enchantinggoateefox @arianapntn @heydemonsitsme @slyvixen1029 @promiseofeywa @love13tter @directioner5life @bambisposts-blogs @melllinaa  @sugarmummystuff6 @lovekeeho @marit332 @hai-kbai @missroro @lola2004sworld @kage-yaa @enchantinggoateefox> @meeeeep5 @wolfangnight @lemon-lav @singular-itae @dueiosy @bobojojoba69​ @littlelia007  @wintersfalcvns @astraeasworld @asweetblueberry2​

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

Can I request a Yandere Shinobu x Male reader where she discovers that you stayed at someone else’s healing estate because it was “closer” at the end of your last mission?

I could have helped | Yandere Shinobu x Male Reader

Characters: Shinobu

Summary: Getting help at another estate was not the best idea.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Gore, Obsessive behavior, manipulation, death, kidnapping

A/n: Im so sorry this is so late! Also sorry if it feels rushed, I'm writing this so late!

The forest was dark, eerie sounds within the trees and sky, there stood a boy struggling to keep his stance. Blood dripped down his s/c skin, shining in the little moonlight that dispersed though the thick leaves. A demon was slowly decaying away in front of his e/c eyes that were slowly losing their shining life. Y/n turned away from the demon that was cursing at him. 

Just as Y/n walked out of the forest, blood trailing behind him, his body gave up on him. He collapsed on the trail that led to the village nearby. Luckily, Y/n was saved by the Kakushi of the Demon Slayer Corp. They sent him to a nearby estate to heal because sending him to a further one could have killed him. However, there was one person who didn’t like this. 

Shinobu’s crow had seen it all happen, as a request of its owner, and flew rabidly to the Butterfly estate. When the update on Y/n had been completed, Shinobu set out to get back her dearest darling. She had sent her crow first, with a message for the injured boy. 

“Go to him and tell him I’ll be there soon.”

With that, Shinobu’s crow swiftly flew into the veil of the night. It took until sunrise for the crow to reach the window of the room Y/n was staying in. Y/n noticed and opened the window, trying his best not to open up the wound he had bandaged. He held out a finger for the crow to jump onto, and guided the bird to where he laid to heal. 

Y/n looked at the crow curiously, not knowing why it was here. He knew it wasn’t his. Y/n gave the crow a look, urging it to share the message it had. The crow propped itself onto his bandaged knee, preparing to speak. 

“I have come from the Butterfly Estate. Ms. Shinobu has asked me to share this message to Y/n L/n. The following is what she instructed me to say. My dearest Y/n, I am so glad you’re safe. I am on my way to see you and make sure you’re healing well! It worries me that you aren’t within my healing care, but worry not, you will be soon.”

For some reason, the message unsettled Y/n, but he nodded to the crow, showing he registered what it just shared. He sent a few meaningless words with the crow. It flew out the window to find its owner. Once it did, it shared the message Y/n had, but Shinobu was too busy travelling as fast as she could. 

The sun had already set, and Shinobu stood in front of the estate that held her dearest love inside. 

Y/n couldn’t sleep, the message Shinobu had left him with stuck in his head. He closed his eyes, trying to decode what it could have meant. In an instant, Y/n shot up, feeling something was off. He heard screaming, and walked slowly to the door. 

Anxiety settled deeply into Y/n, his senses increasing tenfold. His ears picked up even more screaming as he walked out into the hall, calling out to the darkness. No one seemed to come to his calls. Until a figure came out of the shadows. 

Y/n tried to get into a position with his nichirin sword, but it wasn’t with him. He cursed to himself, regretting the negligence at this moment. He felt helpless, and he hated it. Y/n was eased when he noticed that it was a friend of his.  

“Shinobu?”

Y/n fell back, horror gracing every feature. As Shinobu came closer, she was covered in blood. The smell was so overwhelming, he didn’t know what to do. Y/n was just frozen on the floor, staring at his friend, who seemed so unbothered by everything around her. She only walked closer to Y/n. 

“Ah my dear! Did that garbage nurse hurt you more? You look worse than I thought. Here, let me take you to your rightful place and get you all healed up!”

Y/n tried to back away from Shinobu, but she was too quick. She injected Y/n with a sedative that caused the boy to feel so dizzy. Shinobu picked up the boy with ease and brought him to her estate. The only thing in her mind was how much of a bad job the nurse did with her dearest darling.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[symbioteburnout]

"Lady, I literally just passed through here, you guys were the ones who jumped me!" Andi, that's what you get for trespassing on private property!

Although she was beginning to feel a buzz in the back of her head, and not from any sugar or caffeine rush. It didn't feel like the impulses or warnings conveyed by the symbiote either. "Are... Are you in my head!?"

ㅤㅤ" we're never going to get anything done if we're at each other's throats , @symbioteburnout. " the redhead sighed , steadying herself to try and calm down. she didn't know what was causing her to fight with Andi , but something was up. " do you feel it too? "

[osunari]

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s (18+)

— ch.2

➤ s t a r t

Mr. crawling x MC

- h o m i c i p h e r 𒌧

"Unspoken Affection”

(please read ch.1 first)

"This again?" you muttered, glancing down at mr. chopped. His severed head was settled awkwardly on the cart, his brows furrowed in a mix of irritation and embarrassment. He looked quite funny, despite the level of seriousness the situation he got himself caught in.

"卄乙(not)丨千 乂(funny) , 几乇(need) 卄乇Ҝ尺(help) !” he grumbled, his tone sharp but his eyes softening ever so slightly. "卄ㄩ卩ㄖ(hold) ! 卄ㄩ卩ㄖ(hold) ! 千乇尺(fast) !”

As you caught your breath, the memory hit you like a chill down your spine. The last time you'd seen him like this— rolling around helplessly—it wasn't by accident. It was her. That hooded child with the sheep-like head. You had watched as she toyed with him, like a predator playing with its prey, her quiet amusement twisted and unsettling.

And now, as if summoned by the thought, she appeared again.

Kids are nuisances even in this world.

At the end of the dim hallway stood a small figure in a pristine, lace-trimmed Victorian dress. The innocence of the outfit clashed horribly with the severed sheep’s head draped over her shoulders, its glassy, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness, the fur matted and stained.

She tilted her head slowly, an eerie, playful energy radiating from her stillness. Her hands hid behind her back, fingers twitching slightly as though ready to move. She didn’t feel malicious—just wrong, like a child who wanted to play a game you couldn’t possibly win.

“That annoying child again?” you muttered in your native language so she wouldn’t understand, your grip tightening on the cart as mr. chopped’s troubled expression worsened.

“千乇尺(fast) ! 千乇尺(fast) !” mr. chopped raises his voice, his eyes closing tightly after he feels a comforting sensation as you wrap him around your arms and run away—completely forgetting about the man on all fours in spite of the situation.

The hooded child didn’t move, but her gaze burned into your back, cold and unrelenting. The sound of your heart pounding overcome the loudness of each step you took on the hardwood floor, a cruel reminder of how close she’d come to taking him away. You didn’t dare look back, each step faster than the last, as if you could outrun the suffocating weight of her stare.

The sound of your hurried footsteps echoed through the endless corridors as you cradled mr. chopped in your arms, his weight surprisingly easy to manage despite the growing tension in the air. His voice was your guide, calm but firm, as he barked directions like a map brought to life. “爪ㄚ几(left) !” he snapped, his tone clipped but steady.

You skidded around the corner, barely catching your balance before dashing down another dim hallway. The walls seemed to stretch endlessly, the flickering lights above casting distorted shadows that made it feel like you were being followed.

“尺千ㄚ(us) 匚几 ﾌ乇(careful) , 千匚(child) 几ㄚ乇(sneaky) !” he added, glancing back from your arms.

You straightened your posture, gripping mr. chopped tighter as determination flared within you. “So she’s quite the prankster, huh?” The playful unease from earlier was gone, replaced by a sharper focus—you couldn’t afford to underestimate the hooded child again. Your movements became quicker, more calculated, your eyes scanning every corner for signs of her. “I got your back.” The air around you felt charged, your resolve cutting through the fear like a blade.

Meanwhile, in the room you had left behind, mr. crawling stood alone in the dark, his towering form oddly still. He had managed to find a solution—a way to trap the hooded child in the room you and him once resided.

“ㄥ尺几ﾌ(play) ! ㄥ尺几ﾌ(play) ! ㄥ尺几ﾌ(play) !” the loud banging and ringing of the doorknob didn’t help release her from the room she was kept in, wherein the culprit stood in silence from the other side of the door. “几ㄩ(you) 千ㄚ尺 (bad) ! 几ㄩ(you) 千ㄚ尺 (bad) !” the hooded child’s cries failed to overpower the cloudy thoughts of her foe, whom was now lifelessly staring up at the ceiling—his body hunched down while his mouth open agape.

Where had you gone? His hair shifted slightly as if mimicking his unsettled thoughts, the quiet stillness of the room making your absence more noticeable. You were fine one moment, and then gone the next—chasing that severed head.

His lips twitched with unease, a strange jealousy gnawing at him. That head had taken you away, dragged you into danger without a second thought—while you fully consented to yourself being in light of danger instead of the other. The thought of losing you again made his chest feel heavy. He turned toward the doorway and spotted the faint trail left by the cart you had pulled on earlier.

Without hesitation, he dropped on all fours, his long limbs propelling him forward as he started following your path. He had no exact idea where you might have gone, but instinct and worry pushed him on, his glowing hair brushing against the cold floor as he moved. Whatever trouble you’d run into, he would find you before it was too late.

The wooden stairs groaned beneath your feet as you made your way into the dim basement. The air was heavy and thick, carrying the faint scent of meat and something metallic that prickled your nose. You reached the bottom, your fingers brushing against the cool wall for support, and pushed open the familiar door. The room inside greeted you with its worn-down charm, a space cluttered with some tables, scattered chairs, and a few more familiar details. This place had always felt like a strange mix of horror and comforting—a haven for those who didn’t belong anywhere else.

Your eyes darted around, searching for mr. silvair, but the soft, grumbling sound in your arms pulled your attention downward.

“ㄖㄚ千(put) ! ㄖㄚ千(put) ! 几ㄩ(me) ﾌ乂ㄩ几(want) !” mr. chopped muttered after seeing his favorite blue beanbag that rested on a small table. His small form wriggled in your grip, his frustration almost comical given how utterly exhausted he looked.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting him in your arms as you walked further into the room. “Okay,” you muttered. “Hooded child get you in your sleep.” you teased and attempted to translate in their native language, earning a look of puffed cheeks from the severed head.

You lowered him onto the well-loved beanbag nestled in the corner of the room. He flopped back with a dramatic huff, his sharp features relaxing almost immediately as his eyes began to flutter closed. “几ㄩ(me) 千几ㄩ(feel) 乂ㄚ几(good) ! 几ㄩ(me)丨ㄖ千(sleep) . . .” Within seconds, he was asleep, his tiny form now looking oddly peaceful against the worn fabric. You crossed your arms, watching him for a moment. Not even a thank you? you thought with a faint scoff, but his soft, even breathing made it hard to stay annoyed.

In all suddenness, the sound of a door creaking open broke your thoughts. You turned just in time to see mr. silvair step into the room, tall and composed as always. His sharp features were highlighted by the flickering candlelight, his pale white hair trailing softly behind him as he moved with a kind of quiet grace. In one hand, he carried a syringe filled with an unknown liquid that gleamed faintly under the dim light.

“山ㄚ(we) 乙乂乇(meet) 尺 ﾌ几(again) .” he said smoothly, his voice low and even as his gaze locked onto you. His eyes scanned your figure, lingering on the pale sheen of your skin and the faint bluish veins visible beneath it. A flicker of concern passed across his face, subtle but unmistakable. “几ㄚ(you) 丂乃乇ㄥ(unwell) ? 乃卄丂 (maybe) 匚千 (can) 卄ㄩ几卩(help) .” he informed, gesturing you to take a seat on one of the chairs not far from him—his crossed arms indicating a sense of interest and worry.

Something in his tone made you comply, and you sank into one of the worn chairs nearby. Exhaustion was catching up to you, and the weight of the day seemed to pull your shoulders down. Silvair remained standing, studying you with an intensity that made you feel like a puzzle he was determined to solve.

“千ㄚㄩ(feel) ﾌ丂ㄩ几(pain) ? 乃乂乙(body) 几ﾌㄒ(not) 乃乙卩ㄥ(healthy) .” he said alarmingly, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.

You glanced down at your hands, at the strange, translucent quality of your skin that hadn’t been there before. Even now, you weren’t sure how to explain the changes overtaking you. “Don’t know. Me not feel sick.” you admitted in their language, your voice barely above a whisper. “No pain. Yet, not healthy.”

“卂乇卄(when) ㄚㄖ(change) ﾌ几千(occur) ?” he pressed, his tone more focused now.

“When met with red man, mr. scarletella.” you said, the name sending a shiver down your spine.

At that, silvair’s calm demeanor cracked. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his sharp gaze darkened. He took a step closer, his presence suddenly heavier. “scarletella,” he repeated, his voice low and filled with an unspoken weight.

“Why? Something wrong?” you asked, your stomach twisting as unease crept through you.

Silvair frowned, his hands clasping behind his back as he began to pace slowly. The flickering candlelight threw long shadows across the walls, giving him an almost spectral appearance. “几ㄩ(me) ㄖ乙几(unable) 千ㄩ(to) 匚 山乇(lift) ㄩㄚㄒ(curse) .” he said after a moment, his voice measured. “卄几(he) 乙乇尺(want) ㄒ千(you) . 卄ㄩㄥ(want) 几ㄚ尺(your) 千卩几(soul) .”

“Curse?” you echoed, the word leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. “Soul??” you uttered in your language, wishing it was something as little as a mistranslation, but your instincts told you otherwise.

Silvair turned to face you, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. “乃乇(time) ㄩ乂乇(pass) , 乙乂(you) 丂匚(turn) 千卄ㄒ(less) 卄ㄚ尺卩(human) . ㄥ爪几(similar to) ㄩ卄尺匚ㄥ(everyone else) .” he said carefully, “匚尺(he) 乂千卄(like) ㄚ卩(you) . 几乇 (he) 山几ㄒ(want) ㄚ几尺(take) 卄ㄩ(you) .”

Your heart pounded harder in your chest. “What the hell does that mean?” you thought to yourself as you run a hand through your hair—leaning down the chair with a slouched position, your face almost intact with your knees.

Silvair looked down sympathetically at your troubled figure, although he didn’t comprehend your last sentence, it’s like he could read the words your body language revealed. He hesitated, having difficulty finding the right words to not provoke your mind any curther. With a heavy sigh, his chest shifted—opening his mouth agape to reveal more information about the curse, to which you anticipated. But before a sound could even escape from his mouth, the world around you began to blur. The dim room faded, its edges smearing into darkness, and you felt a sudden weightlessness as though you were falling. Panic clawed at your chest, and you reached out for something to ground yourself, but there was nothing.

Once the transition halts, the world felt impossibly small. You were enclosed in a tight, suffocating space that pressed against you from every side. The smooth, cold walls brushed uncomfortably against your arms and legs, confining you like a prisoner in an unyielding cage. The air was thick and stale, each breath harder to draw than the last, and a faint, metallic tang lingered in your throat. Your pulse quickened, the rhythm of your panic pounding in your ears.

This is so fucking strange.

You tried to shift, to move, but the limited space made even the smallest motion feel impossible. Your fingers searched the surface above, sliding across the smooth, unbroken material. The darkness was absolute, making it impossible to orient yourself. The thought crept into your mind: Was this a trap? Had you been buried alive?

Adrenaline surged through you, and with a burst of desperation, you pushed upward. Your arms trembled as you strained against the weight, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, finally, the lid above you gave way with a groaning creak that echoed loudly in the stillness.

You gasped as fresh air rushed in, cool against your overheated skin, filling your lungs with a sharp, almost painful relief. Light flooded in through the open space, blinding you momentarily as you struggled to adjust. You blinked rapidly, the blurriness giving way to the sight of a strange, unfamiliar room. Disoriented and still breathless, you peaked half of your face through the opening of the box you were in, immediately taking in the blurry form of two very familiar individuals.

“尺几ㄚ(funny) ?”

“heh-he , 尺几ㄚㄩ(funny) !”

Mr. masque stood with his usual flair, a theatrical magician with his broad-brimmed hat casting shadows over his face, his robes swirling with impossible patterns of monochromatic colors. His every movement was deliberate, calculated, as if every inch of his presence was part of some grand performance.

And then, there was mr. crawling. His lanky form crouched low on the ground as usual, uncomfortably so, beside the magician, his eyes, if they could even be called that—shrouded in shadows beneath his unkempt hair. His posture was stiff, strained. He wasn’t acting like the wary, defensive figure you were used to. No, he was pretending, and it didn’t take long for you to realize why.

Mr. masque was finishing one of his dramatic moments, head slightly tilted toward you. “尺几ㄚㄩ(funny) ? 尺ㄚㄩ(yes) ?” he asked monotonously, anticipating your response.

Mr. crawling, though, did not seem to share his excitement. Instead, a hollow giggle escaped from his lips, forced and shallow. “尺几ㄚㄩ(funny) ! 尺几ㄚㄩ(funny) !” he said, his voice shaky as he clapped his hands together a little too enthusiastically, the laughter too loud, too desperate. His hair flickered erratically, a sign that the effort to play along was a struggle. The tension in his limbs was perceptible as if he knew the consequences of failing to feign interest, failing to show enough interest for mr. masque’s performance.

Is he…? mr. crawling—he’s helping me.

You watched the scene unfold, understanding far too well that mr. crawling’s laugh was just that—a facade. His own discomfort radiated from him, and yet, he didn’t stop. His fingers twitched, and you knew deep down that he was afraid of what might happen if he didn’t play his part. He had approached mr. masque himself to perform the teleportation trick, to bring you back—to return what was once his—and now that it was done, he needed to keep the magician appeased.

But as you stood there, caught in the uneasy aftermath of it all, your mind began to drift. Mr. silvair’s words echoed in your head, still unfinished. He had been on the verge of telling you something important, something that might have explained the sickness gnawing at you. The pieces had been right there, hanging on the edge of revelation… but then, the magic had pulled you away, and now, you were stuck in this strange limbo.

You felt a pang of devastation in your chest. Your thoughts were tangled, the curiosity and the need for answers battling with the reality of being pulled back into mr. crawling’s grasp—summoned, as though you were a mere possession.

Mr. crawling noticed your sudden change in demeanor, his own false smile faltering as he awkwardly shuffled closer, his glowing strands brushing against your skin. He didn’t speak, but there was a fleeting softness in his expression, a rare moment of vulnerability hidden beneath his usual eerie confidence. Yet, despite his attempt at calming you, it was clear that the moment of truth, of answers, had slipped through your fingers. The mystery of your curse and the warning from mr. silvair now felt like something distant, something left behind in the wake of your summoning.

As mr. masque grinned, unaware of the turmoil that had washed over you, mr. crawling silently reached out, his touch gentle but insistent. Without a word, he began pulling you away, the magician’s laughter still ringing in your ears as you were guided swiftly out of the room.

.

.

.

Once you were both left with no company but each others’, the tension in mr. crawling’s posture seemed to break. His usual eerie calmness shattered like glass, and the unsettling facade he wore had melted away in an instant. His glowing strands of hair flickered anxiously, his movements almost jerky, betraying just how much your well-being had rattled him that badly.

He stopped abruptly in the hallway, his head tilting slightly as if sensing your presence, his hair shifting in the air. The intensity of his attention was unmistakable, despite the absence of eyes. “千尺几卩(okay) ? 卄丂ㄩㄥ(pain) ? 千尺ㄒ(need) 乙乇山尺(medication) ?” His voice was low, almost breathless, as though he had been holding his worry in for far too long.

Before you could even respond, his hands were already reaching for you, gentle but insistent. His fingers brushed over your skin as he checked over and under your arms and shoulders, searching for any sign of injury or harm. His touch was soft, but the urgency behind it was clear. His eyes never left yours as he carefully inspected you, looking for any clue that you might be hurt in some way.

The air between you both felt charged, and when his hands moved to lift the edge of your dress—gently, and cautiously as though checking for any unseen bruises or wounds, you froze. The movement was intimate, too close, and something inside you fluttered with the sudden tension of it all. But before he could lift it further, you placed your hand over his, stopping him with a soft, almost hesitant touch.

“N-no…” you whispered, your voice quieter than you intended, a mix of fluster and vulnerability in your tone.

His hand stilled, hovering over your dress, his expression softening as if realizing how invasive his actions had been. “乙丂��(sorry) , 几ㄩ(me) 匚乂ㄚ千(worry) .” he murmured, his voice tinged with guilt. “几ㄩ (me) 千ㄚ几(worry) 尺山卩乙 (somebody else) 匚乂ㄚ(take) 几ㄚ(you) .” His words were sincere, filled with an anxiety that made your heart ache. “几ㄚ(you) 千ㄥㄒ(leave) , 几ㄚ(me) ﾌㄩ卩(look) 千尺(for) 几ㄩ(you) .”

The raw honesty in his voice made your chest tighten. You could see the genuine worry in his eyes now, his usually intimidating demeanor replaced with something softer, more vulnerable.

His hands slowly dropped to his sides, and he looked away for a moment, his hair falling lower around his face, hiding the faint blush that had appeared on his cheeks. “丂尺匚ㄚ(sorry) , 几ㄚ(me) 匚尺ㄩ千(trouble) 几ㄩ(you) .” he said, his words stumbling slightly. “几ㄚ(me) —” He cut himself off, looking back at you, his gaze filled with an emotion that was both endearing and intense. “几ㄚ(me) 匚尺乙ﾌ(want) 几ㄩ(you) 千尺乇(safe) . 丂尺匚ㄚ(sorry) .”

You could see how conflicted he was—guilt and affection warred within him. But as he stood there, his posture a little more relaxed, you realized just how much he valued you. He wasn’t just the unsettling figure you’d come to know. In this moment, he was… worried. He was worried for you because he couldn’t stand the thought of you slipping away, just like that.

“Why, sorry?” you said softly, your voice quiet but filled with warmth. “Me okay. No trouble, not mad.” You smiled gently at him, crouching down to reach his height and caressing your hands on his head full of hair—hoping to ease some of the tension that still clung to the air because of his conduct.

He looked up at you, his nonexistent eyes softening, and for a moment, his usual jagged grin was replaced with something tender. “几尺ㄚ卩(good) .” he replied, his voice quieter than usual, the weight of his emotions still lingering. “几ㄚ(me) 卂爪千(happy) .”

You sank to your knees on the floor, the weight of everything pressing down on you, and an overwhelming need to feel close to him overtook you. Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him into a tight, desperate hug. The moment his form melted into yours, your heart skipped a beat, as the warmth and solidity of his body washed over you, filling the emptiness you’d been trying to ignore. His scent, faint yet oddly comforting, wrapped around you like a delicate blanket, and for the first time in a while, you felt safe. You lingered in the moment, arms tightening around him, wishing the world outside could just disappear. His closeness was intoxicating, and you realized that you never wanted to let go, never wanted this peace to end.

The silence between you stretched longer than you expected. Until finally, he broke it with a soft, amused giggle—“heh-he”, almost like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His voice, though light, held an undeniable warmth, a mix of surprise and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. He realized what was happening—you had wrapped yourself around him, had pulled him close, letting your body speak the words you couldn’t say.

The realization made his heart flutter in his chest, and for a brief moment, he felt exposed. But, instead of pulling away, he let himself fall into it, his arms shifting to hold you just a little bit tighter, his voice dropping low and teasing. “几ㄚ(me) 匚千尺ﾌ(want) 几ㄩ(you) .” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. And in that moment, the air between you both thickened with something new—something unspoken, but undeniable.

⚠︎ s i l e n t t e m p t a t i o n s (18+)

- ch.2

➤ e n d

[gunnerfc]

Cloé Lacasse NSFW Alphabet (18+, minors DNI!)

-> no one requested this, I’m just down bad for her 🧎

A: Aftercare

She'll make sure you're good before she gets you into the shower or a bath to clean up and most times she'll join you

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Cloé's favorite body part is her hands, seeing her hands wrapped around your neck is one of her favorite sights

Her favorite body part of yours is your neck, she loves marking your neck so others know you're taken but also because she likes wrapping her hand around it

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Will have you clean her fingers after she’s made you cum

D: Dirty Secret 

Hopes the two of you do end up getting caught one time

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?) 

She knows what she’s doing

F: Favorite Position 

Doesn’t have one, as long as she can have her hands on you, she doesn’t care

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

She’s so serious, her focus is solely on you and how to make you feel immense pleasure

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

Cloé may be very cocky in the bedroom but the intimacy is still there

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC) 

Every time you get yourself off while you two are apart, you send her a dirty text about it and within seconds she’s calling you and telling you to do it again as she talks you through it

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks) 

Choking, she enjoys the sight of her hand around your neck

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

Hotel room, your shared apartment, a plane bathroom, the list goes on

M: Motivation (What turns them on?) 

One turn on is seeing you wear her clothes, specifically her jerseys or training shorts since they have her number on them

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

Sharing you with anyone else, only she can touch you and fuck you

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

Giving!!

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?) 

It changes each time, depends on the mood

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies) 

Cloé is a fan of them, especially if you’re on a plane or something where someone might hear how loud you are

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting) 

Yes! As long as you two talk about it and are both willing then she's open to trying new things

S: Stamina (How many rounds) 

You two go for a few rounds, a bit on the longer side with multiple orgasms

T: Toys 

A strap gets used often but she prefers using her fingers or mouth

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

Cloé loves to tease you, hearing you beg for her has her feeling cocky

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make) 

She can be loud sometimes but she's a bit quieter most times

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

She talks you through each orgasm with a teasing tone which always makes the orgasm hit harder

(shoutout to the anon that put this in my head)

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s a little high but not super high, she won’t say no to sex but she also doesn’t mind relaxing with you doing other things

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Cloé only falls asleep after you do, so however long it takes you is how long it takes her

[symbioteburnout]

@adamantiumxchampion (for Laura)

By this point, Andi and Silence had been in more team ups with variants of heroes from different universe than she'd had with heroes from her own. She's fought alongside the likes of the Black Panther, Captain America, Doctor Strange, and even a few Wolverines, but they weren't the ones from her dimension. And most of the ones she knew never made it out of those team-ups alive.

Regardless, it was strange encountering someone she technically knew, and yet was also a complete stranger. While she was working as the sole employee of this small music store in New York, she never expected to see a familiar face walk through the door, but to Laura Kinney, Andi would no doubt just be some random nobody. In her times doing what she called 'Venomverse' missions, Andi encountered at least two variants of Laura. In both cases, both were their universe's respective Venom. The first one she met made it out alive, the other... hadn't been so lucky.

"Um--hey!" Andi stammered, trying to hide her face, almost looking like she'd seen a ghost. "Need help finding something?"

[symbioteburnout]

After what had happened during the last encounter with the serial killer hillbilly turned alien murder monster, Anne had told Andi and the others to just give up, go home, make the most of the time they had left until Carnage inevitably came to kill them all. Andrea has always been told to stay put, and she has always been good at not doing what she was told.

"Well, tough shit, like it or not, I'm your bodyguard." Self appointed anyway, she stood up from her spot in order to intercept the other woman.

FROWN DEEPENS INTO PALLID FEATURES; " it isn't that I don't want you here but it's just that [...] I don't want you here " she pauses, navigating her way around the small coffee table " why are you here ? "

@symbioteburnout liked for a small starter

[purpleyoonn]

Dance of Time 4

D A N C E   O F   T I M E

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.” -Bukowski

Summary: You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Pairing: Vampire BTS x Human Reincarnated Reader

Status: random updates

Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere themes, possessive boys, angst, fluff,

Warnings: smut, violence, tempers, mentions of death, murder, some explicit descriptions of violence, blood,

Chapter Warnings: more flashback scenes, yandere boys, mc deals with her feelings in a weird way, rage room, mc’s creative insults, not much

Taglist: @psychosupernatural @carolinexkpop @strxwbloody @strawberry-moonpies​ @dustyinkpages​ @iamkookiesforyou​ @anaspectoflife​ @btsw1fe​ @yoongisgirl69​ @toughbook​ @yoongibabs​ @mageprincess7​ @dahliasbouqet​ @wittyreader​ @peachandmomo​ @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​ @m1sss1mp​ @yourleftsock​ @skyys-universe​ @cryingpages​  @drissteele​ @dustyinkpages​  @crushedblackroses​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @blaaiissee​  @iiitsmaria​  @azazel-nyx​  @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​ @knjkitten​ @kleirielk​ @foreverweareyoung7​ @lachimolala22019​ @namuficxs​ @94z-93​ @kimgmzmc​ @thenaverse​

Masterlist // Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

————————————————–

Previously on Dance of Time:

“Who is Ellie?” Were the only words to leave your lips as sobs started to sound out instead. Their eyes seemed indifferent to your words, despite the sparkle of happiness glittering within.

“You.”

“Well, I didn’t think she would take it like this.”

“What do you mean? You thought she would go along with everything?” Jimin looked at his mate, eyes narrowed in disbelief. Taehyung shrugged, placing his nose in Hobi’s neck as he sat on his lap. He was in a grumpy mood after you broke his nose and Hobi’s vanilla scent always calmed him down.

They had to lock you in your old room so you wouldn’t try to run away from them again. You already broke the window in the library that overlooked the large garden. For your own safety they made sure you couldn’t break anything in the room, not wanting you to try and hurt yourself again.

Telling you everything had not gone to plan, as some of them had previously hoped.

You stood there for a couple of seconds before making a run for the door, shoving your body against it as you tried to turn the doorknob. You had tears down your cheeks, impeding your vision as you tried to leave.

Jungkook was shocked when you managed to get rid of Taehyung’s arms around your waist, the youngest of the coven having widened his eyes at your actions. He might have been naive to the idea that you would welcome them with open arms and soft lips.

You were their mate, and you were gaining your memories back, so why did you try to get away from them? Jungkook couldn’t comprehend your actions. He couldn’t fathom the thought of finally having you back in their arms and you wanting to leave.

“Darling, you’re going to hurt yourself.” Jimin had tried to remove your grip from the door, had moved forward so you wouldn’t hurt your shoulder against the old oak door.

“Don’t touch me you overgrown mosquito!” You yelled as you felt another set of arms wrap around you, effectively holding your arms against your chest and pulling you away from the door.

“Overgrown mosquito…” Namjoon breathed out, a small smile on his face as he heard the insult come from your lips. You still had the same favor for creative insults.

However, the smile left his lips when you brought your head back quick, knocking you and Jin over as his nose started to bleed, crooked and bent. You pushed yourself up and away from them before they could blink, rising to push at the window to get onto the small balcony that laid outside the glass.

Namjoon lunged for you, grabbing your waist and turning you to face him, but you kicked and threw your body against the window, effectively smashing the glass and cutting little pieces of the skin of your hands and knocking Hoseok out of the way who had come to try and block the window as an escape route.

“Darling!” Jungkook rushed forward to help Namjoon now that he had managed to restrain you, keeping you held tightly against his chest, facing him so he doesn’t end up like Jin or Hoseok. Jungkook crowded against your back, making sure that you wouldn’t be able to get away this time.

“Darling, I know you have a lot of feelings right now, but that’s no way—”

“Oh, go put a sock in it, you limp needle!” You growled out, interrupting Jin from continuing his sentence. Yoongi could hear his elder mate’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare as your words set in.

“Limp needle? How dare—” Yoongi cut him off this time, moving to pull the elder behind him before gesturing for Jungkook and Namjoon to move towards the door.

“Why don’t you go and put or littlest mate in her room? Give her some time to think everything through. Maybe she’ll calm down enough for lunch?” He gives you a hopeful look, only for your own eyes to narrow back at him.

“I’m not going to be eating with you! Who knows, maybe this is all a trick so you’ll be able to eat me for lunch!” Your voice fades away as Namjoon carries you to your old room, his grip in your thighs and back tight so you can’t kick him.

Jimin had hoped you would accept them right away, but he also knew that you were not going to just let them welcome you with open arms and promises reiterated from the past. He could sense the frustration and fear in your scent, he could sense the tightness in your muscles and the way your fists clenched as Taehyung held you.

He knew that this was going to be a tough courting period, that you would try your hardest to fight the bond you didn’t realize you had already accepted when you were at lunch with Namjoon earlier that week.

Your dreams and visions of lifetimes past would only get stronger, more potent as time went on. He hated that he couldn’t wait until you were seeking them out, just like you did before. He missed how you would quietly watch him, waiting until the moment you thought best to interrupt him, your desire for touch overriding any other thought.  

“Let me out of here,” A crash could be heard as you threw something against one of the walls, followed by a sigh leaving Namjoon’s lips. “You big bunch of dinosaurs!”

Yoongi held a grin on his lips, loving how feisty you were getting. He found the insults to be creative and witty. Simply put, you were being a brat, and he couldn’t help but want to go up there and have you say those to his face as he moves at a punishing pace.

“Well, at least her names are getting more creative.” Hoseok lets out a breathy laugh at being called a dinosaur. “I wonder what else she will come up with?”

“She should calm down soon. You remember how she was as a child. She has to get her thoughts in order somehow.” Namjoon brought up.

You always had issues expressing yourself, internalizing everything and then melting down later when everything got to be way too much for you. You would come home from school crying, needing an outlet to help you collect your thoughts and make sense of them.

It wasn’t healthy, but they would help you with it now that they had you back.

Maybe you could pick up gardening again?

“Do you think she’s run out of energy?” Hoseok asks once the room went silent. They couldn’t hear anything from you now, the floor above them giving no indication of any movement.

“Give it a couple minutes, maybe she is just refueling more so she can break the desk in there next.” Jin quipped; still upset at the way you treated him.

“Oh, stop it. You were the first to mate with her last time. Just give her some time, Jin.” Namjoon brought a hand up to the back of Jin’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze before standing up from the couch.

“She is not the same person we remember. She is not Ellie no matter how much we wish her to be. But she is still our mate.” Namjoon’s next words were unspoken, but still heard by everyone in the room.

“She is still ours.”

You, on the other hand, were beyond enraged that these men just claimed you were theirs, with no prompt from you, and locked you in a room when you disagreed with them and tried to leave.

You should have known something was wrong when the man who never wanted to be interviewed before about the manor suddenly deciding to talk with you about it. Your “luck” was purely an opportunity for the men to enact their plan to take you.

You had tried to knock the door down, but it seemed to be reinforced with steel. You tried the window and came up with nothing, the glass thick enough for not even a bullet to break it, you guessed. This meant you were stuck, and you didn’t like it.

You had no remorse for any of the things the men had furnished the room with, choosing a pretty looking vase to smash against the wall first. You were in your very own rage room, smashing and breaking anything you could see.

However, when you went to smash a small table into the dresser, you faltered in your steps. Something within you was keeping you from doing any damage to the ancient dresser. It was ornate in design, the intricate woodwork had you stopping and moving to get a closer look. 

You ran your hand up the flower design running up the bottom of the dresser, pressing softly on one of the petals by the edge and jumped back in shock.

The bottom panel of the dresser had fallen, revealing a hatch that held a couple of things. You noticed an old hairbrush with colors of lavender and cream, a handkerchief, and a book. You reached for the book, an innate need to see what was inside running through you.

Picking the book up, you moved back over to the bed, your footsteps soft as you did. Sitting in the middle of the large bed, you couldn’t help but to take a deep breath as your fingers grasped the cover of the book, turning it over to reveal handwriting that was oh so familiar to you.

Love does not end with death.

Some things are meant to last forever.

Your own handwriting stared back at you, the black ink peering into your soul and making your heart skip. It was as if your past self knew what would happen to her. And it crushed your soul all the same.

Turning the page again, unable to continue looking at the familiar script, you found old pictures, piercing eyes staring into your own. You recognized yourself within the image; the caption reading “Ellie and Jungkook”.

You recognized Jungkook as the man who helped bring you back to this room. You now understand the look of hesitation as he closed the door in your face. The forlorn look as he struggled with Namjoon’s decision.

You turned the page again to see the caption reading “Ellie, Jimin, and Taehyung. The morning after”. You were in the middle of the bed, with one man on either side of you, looking at you with an overabundance of love and adoration on their faces as they looked over at you.

You closed the book with a huff of exhaustion. You couldn’t understand why they looked at you with the same loving and adoring glance as they gave Ellie. They didn’t know you. You were not Ellie, nor would you ever be.

You could feel tears begin to fall down your cheeks as your breathing picked up. You were so overwhelmed by a flurry of emotions and things you didn’t understand that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

You couldn’t understand why you wanted them to comfort you as you broke down. Why did you want them to whisper words of reassurance, of promise, as they held you. You hated the feelings building in your chest at your own presence, alone in the unfamiliar room.  You wanted to hate the way they made you feel at a single glance, but you couldn’t.

You looked so much like their Ellie, and your feelings were soon becoming the ones she undoubtedly felt towards them. But you weren’t her, and you didn’t want to just lay down and let them pretend like you were. You were not her and you were not going to be a replacement like they wanted you to be.

It actually made you mad how easily you were falling for them in the little time you had been alone in the large room. What did they think? A couple of measly items from your past self and an old album would have you rushing to them, declarations of love pouring from your lips?

You threw the album away from you, crossing your arms at your chest as you tried to come up with a way to get out of the room again. You couldn’t understand why you were angry at the men, besides them kidnapping you. There was something building in your chest, something that had tears flowing down your cheeks, unable to stop the onslaught of them.

Somewhere, deep down that you wouldn’t acknowledge, you knew that you were upset that they weren’t with you, holding you like your body seemed to remember. You were upset and missing something that you remembered from your past life, something you never got in this one.

Soon, your angry tears turned into wistful tears, something compelling you to pull the album back to yourself, opening it up again and turning through the pages that tugged on the corners of your mind, nostalgia pulling at your heart.

You hated not knowing why you were feeling the way you were.

-*-*-

Not even the smell of food could bring you out of the cocoon you built, trapping and hiding yourself away from the seven men who made your heartstrings appear out of nowhere, tugging and yanking at them.

It was warm under the blankets, and you knew that someone would be coming to try and get you soon, at least, you thought they were. You had no clue if they could eat normal food, or even drink water. You didn’t know anything about them other than that they claimed to be your soulmates and they drank blood. Oh, and that they seemingly lived forever.

You were right though, soon enough you heard footsteps get closer causing you to bury yourself deeper into your cocoon. You didn’t want to see them and have your heart melt again.

When the door opened, you stayed still, hoping they would think you were sleeping and leave you alone. It didn’t seem to work.

“Darling, we have food for you.” Jimin called out, straining his ears to hear your breathing coming from the bundle of blankets on the bed. He assessed the damage you caused to your old room before moving forward, Jungkook walking quietly behind him.

You could hear their soft footsteps, the creak of the wooden floor giving them away. You hadn’t responded to Jimin’s voice, remembering his name and voice from one of the stupid visions you couldn’t figure out how to stop.

“Do you think she is asleep?” Jungkook whispered in Jimin’s ear, causing your heart to speed up, hoping you got away without seeing them. They both heard your heartbeat though, causing a little laughter to come from the two.

“Baby, we can hear your heartbeat. We know you are awake.” Jimin spoke again, jumping onto the bed and jostling you a little.

“So, why don’t you come out of there and eat your lunch?” Jungkook suggested, only for you to shake your head, inadvertently making your cocoon of blankets shake.

“We ordered your favorite from the diner. The waitress said you used to get it all the time growing up?” Jungkook moved forward, holding the plate of food carefully as he sat on the edge of the bed. He and Jimin were elected to be the ones to bring your food up, Namjoon suggesting you wouldn’t want to eat in the dining room with them. Hoseok almost snuck up with them but Jin had to pull him back to the couch. Instead, Hoseok was elected to go and get the food from the diner with Namjoon.

But in reality, they had all wanted to spend some time with you. They knew if you were in the dining room with them all, more things would be broken and even more feelings hurt, as you still didn’t understand what was going on.  

Your heartbeat sped up a little at the mention of your favorite food, but you knew it was just a ploy to get you out of the room, and out of your little cocoon. You felt safe in here, you didn’t feel safe with them. You wanted to go home.

“It’s just Jungkook and I. We uhm, we weren’t sure if you wanted any of the others to come in.” Jimin spoke, completely unsure of himself and his words, and your heart grew uncomfortable in your chest. These stupid feelings had you wanting to pull the man into your cocoon with you, make him feel safe.

Slowly, you pull the banket that was covering your face down, seeing it was in fact, just Jungkook and Jimin, Jungkook holding your favorite comfort food. The bowl of homemade macaroni and cheese with bacon crumbles on top smelled just like you remembered, and it made you feel even more at ease with the two vampires.

“We thought it might make you feel more comfortable if you ate in here… we can leave if you want?” Jimin’s voice sounded sad, yet hopeful as he finished his sentence. Jungkook had already handed the food to you once you managed to get yourself out of you small cocoon. Neither of the mates wanted to leave you alone again, but they would if you wanted them to.

However, now that your fear, and accompanying adrenalin, had subsided, you were tired, both physically and mentally and all you wanted was to be cuddled and held like when you were younger. You were so exhausted that you went with your instincts and let them stay, even pulling them into your half cocoon and practically laid on Jungkook as you slowly fed yourself.

You started to trust the two with your whole body, not just what memories and feelings you were receiving from your supposed past life. Despite your inner reluctance and fear, you fell asleep with them in your bed after you’re your tummy was full and your body cozy and warm..

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Good evening! Can I request an NSFW alphabet for Piper?

Piper NSFW Alphabet

➼ Word Count » 1.0k ➼ Warnings » Public Sex, Orgasm Denial, MDNI ➼ Genre » NSFW, Romantic

A - Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

She's always talkative after sex and would rather just lay there with you and chat instead of taking a shower or anything else like that. To her, the best aftercare anyone could provide is the emotional one that happens by just being around the person.

B - Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She loves hands. Calloused, soft, big, small — she adores any type of hands. Maybe it's the writer within her, but she has such a big fixation on people's fingers, and, as long as you run your hands are on her in some way, she won't ever get bored.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

She doesn't have much of a preference. Wherever is fine.

D - Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

She's masturbated in one of the Alleys of the Boston Commons before. It's not her proudest moment, and she still cringes every time she walks past it.

E - Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

She's got a general idea, but you might need to guide her through a few things here and there.

F - Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. She loves being pushed over her desk and pounded. It's just the easiest and most fun position in her opinion.

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Piper is constantly tossing little quips your way and she likes it when you tease her back. Serious sex just is boring to her, she'd much rather have at least a few jokes thrown into the mix.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

She's fairly well groomed considering the circumstances of the world.

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

She sees intercourse as more of an activity rather than something romantic. The more sentimental parts of the relationship can be left to the dates and actions outside the bedroom.

J - Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Occasionally does it, although, now that she's with you she'll go out of her way to find you to get off instead. Still, she's never opposed to it.

K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Public Sex, Hair pulling, Voyeurism, Cunnilingus, Hand Fetish, and Orgasm Denial.

L - Location (favorite places to do the do)

Diamond City alleyways (or you could take her to the Boston Commons again to reignite those past memories). She also doesn't mind doing it in her office if a Rad Storm is raging outside.

M - Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Quite honestly, anything. She's got a crazy high libido so, as long as your hands are on her, she'll be rearing to go.

N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Bondage or anything that could cause either of you serious pain. She hates being restricted and provoking any discomfort just doesn't sound all that great.

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She prefers to receive. Her gag reflex isn't all too great, but she'd still be willing to try it out for you.

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Spontaneous? She goes for whatever the mood calls for, whether that be relaxed or rough. It's better when there's no plan in mind.

Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She loves them. You tell her you want one and she'll gladly pull you toward the nearest alley (it's a theme with her) and help you out in whatever way she can. Just tell her what you want her to do, and then you both can get back to whatever you were doing before.

R - Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Who do you think she is? Of course, she's down to take risks — as long as they don't include any injuries, she's down for anything you throw her way.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

She normally only lasts 2, but she likes to stretch them out into longer periods with the orgasm-denial aspect of her sex life.

T - Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She's found a few when wandering around, but she prefers to only use the ones she's certain are sanitized properly...

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The whole thing's going to be a tease with her. She likes to banter playfully with you during the moment and wouldn't mind if you cracked something back at her.

V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Piper is fairly medium when it comes to volume, she's not too loud but not very quiet.

W - Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sometimes she'll write out one of her fantasies she has with you onto her typewriter, before tearing it off and stashing it far under her bed.

X - X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

She has relatively short black hair covering her. She'll trim it up whenever she finds an item safe enough to do so with.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Her libido is comically high but definitely controlled.

Z -Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

She would normally spend the rest of the night talking with you or just lying beside you and tracing the bones of your fingers. How could you expect her to sleep when she feels so warm inside?

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

is there any way we could get the nsfw alphabet for my girl cg 👀👀

Sure!

...It's definitely gonna be a full alphabetti house at this point...

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Holding her partner close, like she's afraid they'll vanish if she lets go.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

There's a not lewd answer, which is her partner's face, so she can see the emotions.

Then there's the lewd answer and that's what's between their legs.

Oh, and her own boobs, in general.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Getting a little slippery is a great way of making things even more heated, don't you think?

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Back in the day, CG fucked in a lot of weird places. Backseat of the car

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

She's got some experience, but none of it is recent. She may have forgotten the steps.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Someone better be straddling someone else at some point, that's all I'm saying.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

She's intense, but she finds moments to smile. Within the context of being romanced specifically, 'joyous' comes to mind.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Keeps things maintained.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Desperately intense, perhaps even too much so.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

clinically passionless about it. get off, clean up, back to business.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The riding thing (F) wasn't an exaggeration.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

She honestly doesn't care.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Believing that someone cares.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No tying her up or restraining her in any way, 'less you want to get popped in the eye, and not in a sexy manner.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Would rather give, cause damn, getting someone to make those sounds- ahem.

But y'know, a hand on a partner's head down there, giving encouragement. That works too.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast, rough, desperate.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She used to be down for these.

In current context. Snatched moments of passion? Sure. Yes. Absolutely.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Frankly, in the context of CG x MC, it's nothing BUT risk.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Might need to build back up.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Owns exactly one (1) painfully businesslike bullet vibe for personal use.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not that much of a tease. Too caught up in the moment to do that much. It depends, I guess, how much you would consider vocal encouragement to be teasing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Snarls, gasps, moans. Ferally into it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Somehow both one of the most and least into doing the do of the ROs.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Uhh, muscle tone?

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Has kept it on the chain for so damn long now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Literally refuses to sleep until her partner does first.