#I couldn’t do monochrome

[dreamy-pill]

Yeah, I wanted to post this Steven Universe and The Owl House fanart earlier today…

But, you know, sometimes it’s just one of those days. I don’t feel bad, I just wished today didn’t happen, is all.

I pushed past that anyway and this is probably the one thing I drew today that didn’t make me feel anxious. I feel satisfied with the final product, actually. 😊😊😊

This is Steven and Luz in the demon realm. Luz just betrayed Steven: she’s turned on him to hunt down witches.

If you probably noticed, I do wish I added more texture to the background also. Like the one I did to the previous drawing.

[golden--doodler]

Louigan Week Day Three: Bicker/Unspoken

Happy Day Three of @louiganweek!! I decided for today, the concept would be that Louise and Logan had a fight (because when do they not), and Louise is currently giving him the silent treatment (hence the unspoken part of the prompt). And Logan is now having a dramatic musical moment, because he’s a Drama Queen. And it’s great.

[ID]: Digital fanart of Logan Bush from Bob’s Burgers. Logan is seen from the waist up and in a simple sketchy style with dark purple monochromatic coloring. He has one arm raised in the air dramatically, and he has an emotional look on his face, complete with watery eyes. He looks as if he’s bursting into song. He’s also standing in the Belcher’s kitchen.

[vaguely-lavender-er]

“Mads you’re projecting” literally what are you talking about 🤨

[brutal-out-here]

What if I made my phone’s theme based around the ttpd set

[comicaurora]

...What happens if I put a full twenty dollars into the urban fantasy vending machine?

it's been on the backburner for over a year, so nothing fresh, but for twenty dollars in the urban fantasy vending machine, here is a short vignette I haven't touched in a year and a half

The room was crisp and bright, all sharp edges and polished monochrome. The sun shone in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, refracting off the sparkling glass and steel spires that carved out the skyline and focusing with almost suspicious precision directly into my eyeballs. I slumped down further in my chair and squinted across at the empty desk. Everything was too damn bright.

“Can I get you anything, detective?”

The voice that rang out from behind me was innocent and musical. The woman it belonged to was not.

I scowled. “Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself.” I could hear the indulgent smile. “The coffee’s very good, you know. I don’t settle for anything less than the best.”

“I’m sure.”

“And with a nose like yours, I’m sure you already knew.”

Water boiled, and a rich, bitter scent coiled through the air. It was good. Probably that Blue Mountain stuff, or - no. It had to be Turkish. Of course she’d do Turkish.

I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled harshly. There was no way around it - I was exhausted. I’d hit the 48-hour sleep dep limit back on Saturday and had been burning through raw determination ever since. It was damn stupid of me, frankly. I probably couldn’t even handle arithmetic right now, let alone solve a mystery.

But it’d be real stupid of me to accept a drink from the most notorious poisoner in history, so I was just going to have to deal with it.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and the world blurred back into focus as a tall figure briefly eclipsed the dazzling display of sun-sparkled skyscrapers. A coffee cup settled on the desk with a soft clink. There was a rustle as she settled into the high-backed chair and leaned forward. The sun caught in her golden braided bun and played across the shoulders of her elegant black suit. Pale, slender hands clasped the coffee cup with practiced precision.

“So,” Medea said. “How can I help you today?”

Her eyes were honey-gold. Granddaughter of Helios, the myths had said, and the sun certainly seemed to be in the habit of favoring her. Her corporate empire dealt in energy. Geothermal, hydroelectric, solar, even nuclear - all those shiny, clean alternatives that were slowly outcompeting the old oil-burning models. Her power stations were already keeping the lights on for half of the eastern united states. It was a hell of a niche she’d carved out for herself, and like everything else she’d ever done, she was stunningly good at it. Then again, for a demigod princess and compulsive social climber, the world of corporate politics must’ve felt like a home away from home.

Her gaze was steady and level, like I wasn’t cutting into her busy workday. Like she had all the time in the world.

Well. She did, didn’t she?

I sighed. “There’s a new drug on the streets.”

“Is it Tuesday already?”

“This one’s different.” I rubbed my eyes. “Right now, they just think it’s a hallucinogen.”

“And?”

“It’s not. It shows what’s really there.”

The coffee cup froze halfway to her lips. “How much?”

“Can’t tell for sure. Sounds like they’re seeing fairies, sprites, goblins, standard hidden world stuff… but I’m pretty sure it cuts through glamour. Might even go deeper, start showing shifter’s true forms.” I leaned back. “The secret world won’t stay secret for long if the users and abusers start comparing notes. I was half-tempted to take some of the stuff myself just to find out how much they know, but I’m not exactly a neutral test subject.”

“Yes, between your physiology and your temperament, that would be very unwise.” The clink of her cup cut off my half-hearted retort. “Do you have any mortal friends who might be willing to take the plunge?”

I barked a bitter laugh. “All my mortal friends are wizards or cops.”

“Unfortunate. I see why you came to me.” She leaned back, lacing her fingers together. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Damn. Damn. Why was I surprised?

“That kind of potion isn’t really my style anyway,” she said. “Illusions and the breaking thereof are rather… outside my typical wheelhouse.”

“I know, I know.” I rubbed my eyes again. “I didn’t think you were making the stuff. I just hoped maybe you knew something. Nobody knows where it’s coming from.”

“The Goblin Market?”

“Obviously some people are dealing it through there, but I don’t have a supplier.”

“Tricky.” She leaned back. “What’s the delivery method?”

“That’s the weird part. It’s topical.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Unusual. No ingestion or injection?”

“No.” I dug into my jacket pocket and pulled out the scuffed stainless steel tin, then dropped it on her desk. “Kid up in Wicker Park saw me, dropped this and ran. Broad daylight. I wasn’t even changed.”

“You do cut an intimidating figure regardless.”

I scowled. “I don’t know what he saw.”

She nodded once, then gestured at the tin. “Do you mind?”

“Be my guest.” I sank deeper into the chair.

She delicately picked up the tin and traced a nail around the lid. “The container is mundane.”

“Yep.”

She turned it in her hands, the battered metal catching the light. Then she cracked the lid.

I braced myself and squeezed my eyes shut. The smell was overwhelming and utterly unidentifiable - syrupy, sickly, wormwood and petrichor and rot. The headache I’d been nursing intensified.

I heard her sniff. Lucky woman. She had to try to smell the stuff.

“Otherworldly ingredients.” There was a click and the smell dissipated. I risked cracking an eye open. She’d replaced the lid and was staring at the container pensively.

“What do you think?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe I should be asking you. If I want to identify the makeup of an unknown mixture, I need a full lab and the favor of Hekate. You just need your nose.”

I groaned. “All I know is it’s weird and I hate it.”

“Weird?”

“Weird! I can’t pin it down. It almost smells like something, but” - I waved my hands vaguely - “it’s all wrong.”

Medea stared for a moment, then set down the tin. “Detective, have you ever been to fairyland?”

“I assume you’re not being euphemistic,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“No. I’m referring to the realm of fairy. Built on the ruins of Tír na nÓg, ruled by the Fairy Queen, land of glamour and illusion, home of the people of the hills. You must be familiar.”

“Of course I am.”

“But you’ve never been there?”

“I don’t do otherworld travel if I can help it.” I sat up. “Why?”

Medea idly traced a finger over the tin. “The bones of the fairy realm are very real, but for the most part, the realm is a beautiful illusion starving for reality. Your senses are entranced by a perfect, glamorous experience, but your body and soul waste away. Surely you’re familiar with the harmful effects of fairy food?”

“On paper.” I glanced at the tin. “You think this is some kind of illusion?”

“Just the opposite.” She tapped the lid sharply. “Fairyland is nothing more than the eternal dream of the Fairy Queen, but Tír na nÓg is as real as you or I. A land of promise and plenty, lost to ruin when its link to this world withered away. Its denizens fading to shades, its fruits and flowers rotting and decaying where they grew.”

I frowned. “This… this isn’t your area. Why do you know so much about this?”

She sighed. “Really, detective. Did you really think, over three thousand years, I stayed entirely in the mediterranean?”

“No, of course not-“

“After my flight from Athens I broadened my horizons significantly. I have visited the realm of Fairy several times.” She wrinkled her nose. “Of course, after the Tír fell to ruin, the quality of ingredients I could acquire plummeted rather dramatically. Gossamer illusions make for poor potions.”

I tried to cut through the fog in my head. Things were coming together. “You… think this was made in fairyland?”

“I think it was, at minimum, made from fairyland.”

“The smell… is odd. Like a floral perfume gone wrong. Rot making everything sweeter.” I scowled. “Not an illusion. Illusions don’t smell that bad.”

“Good,” she said. “Then some industrious denizen appears to have scoured the far edges of Fairyland to acquire ingredients from the ruins of the Tír.”

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter 11

Prologue (beginning): here

Previous Chapter: here

Next Chapter: here

Note: THE TAGS BROKE AGAIN, I'M SO SORRY!

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @vash-yuu @twstsandturns @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @the-ace-reader @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog @sushiperson @starshiningsirius @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-monochrome-jester @owodi @girl-nahh-two @obeythehuman @berry-efoy @ivorette @the-broken-truth @losingmybrain @sxftiebee @queens-unheard-thoughts @medicine-san @strugglingsleeper @asdorlia @nightskylark @cashmerek @rocketstyx and @ryovel wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (I have removed the tags that weren’t working for me, apologies if yours was removed!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

NOTE 2: Sorry that it took over a month to write this, but I needed inspiration + my new job is kicking my butt. It’s pretty short and bad but I didn’t have a lot of inspiration.

—-------------------------------------------------------

You were on your way to the birds’ enclosure when you heard your name being called. You turned around to see Crowley making his way towards you, one arm raised to flag you down. You hurried over to him.

“Yes, Mr. Crowley?”

As you drew closer, you could see the concern on his face. 

“I need you to come with me,” he said softly, leading the way to the aviary. You nodded and followed him, worry starting to consume you.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

Mr. Crowley led you around to a side of the aviary you hadn’t been to before- a side that faced neither the employee entrance nor the zoo visitors. It took only a few seconds to realize why he had led you there.

The metal enclosure had been dented outwards, as though a lot of force had been applied to it from the inside. The seams were starting to split apart, artificial light from inside the enclosure peeking through the cracks. It looked like an elephant had been body-slamming the aviary’s walls.

“Wha- what happened?” you asked, stunned.

“We’ve had some… incidents recently. All of the halflings have been acting up more than usual and, as you can see, there’s been some damage to the aviary’s metal dome.”

“But the birds are so well-behaved!” you protested in shock.

“That’s the thing,” Mr. Crowley said gravely, “It seems to happen after your visits. The halflings become… agitated when you aren’t around.”

You couldn’t believe that the gentle, friendly birds had caused this kind of damage to a metal enclosure. And because of you? It was almost unthinkable.

“I don’t understand,” you said in a near whisper, “Why would they do this?”

Mr. Crowley sighed wearily, “Halflings form strong bonds, that’s why we have so many bonded species at this zoo. They will especially latch on to anyone who shows them true kindness. You clearly mean a lot to them and your absence upsets them.”

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” you said, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings.

“I know, and I don’t blame you,” Mr. Crowley reassured you, “But we need to find a solution.”

“Do you have any ideas?” you asked.

Mr. Crowley went silent and avoided eye contact. A thrill of apprehension shot up your spine but you willed it away. Mr. Crowley would never put you in danger, right?

“For now, just continue as normal,” Mr. Crowley replied, “We’ll work on fixing the enclosure.”

You nodded and the zoo director dismissed you with a careless wave. You hurried to the enclosure’s employee entrance and were disturbed to hear, instead of the usual quiet, the sounds of squawks and hoots and other cries. 

You stepped inside and were surprised by the scene you were met with. The halflings were clearly distressed: pacing in their cages and looking around wildly, feathers fluffed up in agitation. Even calm-and-collected Vil looked ruffled.

“Guys? Are you alright?” you called out softly.

Ace was first to respond, “Where were you?” he demanded to know, voice tinged with panic, “You’re late! You’ve never been late before!”

“I’m sorry, Ace,” you said, trying to sound as soothing as possible, “I was talking to Mr. Crowley about some… problems with the enclosure.”

Ace’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Problems? What problems?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” you said, feeling a little nervous by the intensity of his gaze. Glancing around, you could see that every bird halfling had their eyes trained on you.

Trey flew from his birdhouse to his perch, landing gracefully on the wooden perch and fixing you with a stern glare and saying, “You can’t disappear.”

You nodded, trying to calm them all down, “I understand. It won’t happen again.”

Vil stepped forward, his beautiful feathers out of place and ruffled. His eyes were narrowed and he was frowning as though disappointed in you, “You always leave us.”

You were overwhelmed by all of their intense gazes and you felt a lump form in your throat. “I’m here as often as I can be.”

Epel looked up at you with watery eyes, “We worry when you leave. Not safe out there.”

You forced a gentle smile to your lips, “I’m perfectly safe. And I’m here now. Let’s all calm down everyone, okay?”

Slowly, the halflings relaxed. Rook stopped pacing, Vil smoothed his feathers, and Trey flew back into his bird house. Even though the tension had mostly disappeared, the underlying worry and hint of possessiveness remained.

You turned to Deuce, who hadn’t spoken yet, but instead looked at you wistfully. “Are you doing okay, Deuce?” you asked.

Deuce’s eyes softened, but the troubled frown remained on his face, “I’m fine,” his voice was strained, “I missed you.”

Your heart ached, “I missed you too,”

Ace piped up in an annoyed tone, “Why can’t you just stay here with us?”

You blinked in surprise, “I have a life outside the zoo. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here.”

It was Cater’s turn to speak, and the expression he gave you made your stomach twist unpleasantly, “You’re too good to stay with us halflings, mademoiselle? We do not have a life outside this zoo, but we deserve that, don’t we?”

“Wh-what? Of course not!” you spluttered.

“Then stay!” Epel whined, a tear sliding down his cheek.

“I- I can’t,” your voice came out in a whisper. You shook yourself and turned around, heading for the staff door,  “I’ll go get your meals…”

There was an eerie silence as you passed out their meals. Each of the halflings took their salads and set them aside, their appetites gone. The tension in the air was so thick you thought you might choke on it.

Finally, the time came for you to leave. As you turned towards the staff door, a hand grabbed the back of your shirt. You turned in surprise to find Riddle outside his enclosure, his pink feathers standing on end.

“Promise… you’ll come back.” Riddle choked out, fighting back tears.

You turned to him and gave him a gentle smile before pulling him into a hug. “Of course I’ll come back.”

“Promise!” he demanded.

“I promise.”

With the way they all looked at you, with victory and possessiveness, you halfway wondered if you had sold your soul with that promise.

[soubeomies]

꒰୨୧◞ ₊˚ 𝓣𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗈𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽

⤷ 𝓟𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ﹕ taesan x fem!reader

⤷ 𝓦𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ﹕ mentioned that reader uses makeup

⤷ 𝓖𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ﹕ fluff

⤷ 𝓦𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝓒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ﹕ 738

⤷ 𝓐𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝓝𝗈𝗍𝖾 ﹕ omg i wrote this to get rid of my writers block!!!!!! there’s a req rotting in my inbox plz be patient omg

⤷ 𝓢𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ﹕ taesan was always used to his dark and gloomy world. he never thought he’d experience anything different, until you came along.

for all his life, taesan has always adored things on the darker side. such as clothing, accessories and anything you can think of. he was also accompanied with an environment that similarly enjoys the same dark and gloomy aesthetic that he seemed oh-so-familiar with. he constantly avoided people that strained his eyes with all that color, he just never understood them.

well, until you appeared in his life. in his monochrome world, his eyes find yours. your sparkly eyes bedazzled in glittery eyeshadow, your face painted brightly with a big and joyful smile. he was described as dark, cold and reserved. on the other hand, you were always described as bubbly, bright and sweet.

it felt like two worlds crashing onto each other whenever the two of you interacted. whether it was you being friendly, or the both of you getting assigned to be together in order to do a group project.

as the friendly sweetheart you are, you were always trying to get conversations flowing with him. bombarding him with a million questions, only for him to coldly reply with one or two words.. maybe he’ll respond with a sentence on special occasions.

⟡ ݁₊ .

playfully chatting and occasionally nudging him whilst you giggle. usually, he’d shrug you off and find you annoying. but why did he feel warmth? your smile caused his stomach to do backflips.

why did he feel this way? you were the complete opposite of him.. how could he ever like you?

but then, maybe that’s why he likes you. opposites attract, am i right?

“heellooo? taesan?” you say as you snapped your fingers in front of his face, in hopes to get his attention. he snaps out of his trance as he stares at you, “huh? sorry.” he mumbled under his breath before continuing the group project with you.

⟡ ݁₊ .

walking around campus, looking for taesan with the purpose of asking him if he wanted to continue the group project. you find him talking to his friends. you wave at him and call out his name, “han taesan!!” you exclaim.

from a distance, his friends turned their heads to look at you. they couldn’t help but laugh a little, “ya, taesan. is that your girlfriend or something?” one of his friends snorted.

he paused for a little while, recollecting his thoughts before putting them into words. he was not gonna let that slide. “and so what if she is?” he asked bluntly, shooting them a sharp glare.

“.. nothing.” his friends replied in unison, not wanting to start anything with him. his eyes glanced towards your figure in the distance, jumping and waving at him.

he feels a smile tugging at his lips. in a failed attempt of masking the smile, he smiled and walked towards you.

you run over to him as you were about to speak, quickly getting interrupted as you glanced behind his shoulder. seeing the sight of his friends whispering and giggling. you can’t help but stare, are they talking about you?

he realizes you looking behind his shoulder, he whips his head back at his friends before their faces turn dead serious whilst they stopped laughing.

“don't mind them. they are irrelevant.” he scoffed as he looked at you with a hint of affection in his eyes. you reluctantly nod before continuing, “do you wanna continue the project at my house?”

⟡ ݁₊ .

the two of you find yourselves in your house for the millionth time this week, all due to the project that felt excruciatingly complicated. or maybe, the two of you were just distracted by each other's presence.

he can’t complain though, he loved being around you. listening to you talk about your day, hearing your sweet voice and giggles. he could do this forever.

“taesan..” you mumble under your breath, fiddling around with your fingers nervously. he notices your nervous demeanor.

“yeah? what’s up y/n?” he instinctively asks, “don’t you feel embarrassed by me always being around you?” you question.

it was true, you didn’t look like any of his friends. you acted differently, you dressed differently and you thought differently. everything about the two of you felt like polar opposites.

he smiles a little as your question, “why would i?” his voice laced with confusion as if the question was painfully obvious. “.. it’s like, i don’t fit in your world.” he smiles at you gently, “exactly.”

“you’re the only color i see in this monochrome world of mine.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ networks : @kstrucknet @k-nets

© soubeomies 2024 all rights reserved ♡ do not copy/repost my works.

[vaaaaaiolet]

You accidentally throw a monkey wrench into supermodel Leon's Calvin Klein photoshoot, but you can't sweet-talk your way out of this one. Kennedy's got your tongue and your panties in a bunch.

Better hope you've got a fix up your sleeve.

f / m, slight nsfw, you just thirst over leon + you're REALLY awkward, fluff + romance, stupid one-liner attempts at humor + hunnigan mention!! I GIVE MYSELF THE ICK.

word count: 913 // read on ao3

a/n: @chesue00 made this GODLY ART. and i RAN INTO PEOPLE in PUBLIC looking at it because it got me so dizzy. i don't know what to DO WITH MYSELF 😭

find more drabbles in my collection: sketches for my sweetheart the drunk!

You’d passed all your English classes in college, but right now? It’d be a hell of a lot more useful to have taken a few in sign language.

“What’s wrong with her?” 

The camera crew’s never been able to perfect the art of the whisper. 

“Did she lose her voice or something?”

You fumble with the reflectors for the millionth time, bright material projecting your flushed face to high heaven on all three of the cameras’ viewfinders. 

There’s a really unfunny joke that starts like this: a photography intern walks into a bar.

Said bar happens to be supermodel Leon S. Kennedy’s back because you weren’t watching where you were going on the biggest day of your career, a Kennedy x Klein collab shoot starring the man you’d only been crushing on for, what, ever since you picked up your first fashion magazine? You’d left a sizeable smear of makeup on the pristine white of his T-shirt as a parting gift, and after that, you’d lost your ability to form words in shame. Mortifying, paralyzing shame.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

And as if in agreement, Leon’s agent bristles on the break couch behind you. 

He’s still in that stained shirt, by the way. Sipping thoughtfully from a bottle of water while his agent sounds off beside him, but the only thing on your mind is what you’d give to be on his drink’s business end. Condensation drips onto the coffee table when Leon sets it down, drop by tantalizing drop sliding down his fingers, ice melting in his palm that’s just big enough to grab a plush handful of your- 

His agent tears through your daydream, madder than a wet hen. ”There’s no time to order an exact replacement!”

“It’s just a shirt,” Leon chuckles, and you hear rolling thunder on the horizon. You’ve got it bad.

“It very clearly states in the Kennedy x Klein contract that we need a picture of you in a white T-shirt.”

“A tiny bit of lip gloss-” 

“An obvious stain!” the spectacled woman squawks. 

“Stain, whatever – just stop freaking that poor girl out, yeah?” 

Your ears perk up rabbit-style.

“Look at her, Ingrid,” Leon continues, and every cell of your body lights on fire because he has to be training his gunmetal eyes on right on you. “Poor thing hasn’t said a word since you started going off about that tiny mark. Turn around, sweetheart, just a moment.”

Who put your feet on a turntable? 

“See? Eyes bigger than the goddamn moon.”

And you just might faint, too. But you’ve got to fix this before you do. 

“Uhm, we…we could…” he nods when you stutter, patient as a saint, he’d talk you through it for sure, “take…the shirt…off?” 

A tilt of his handsome head. “Come again?”

You need to put your money where your mouth is. Even if the latter’s on strike right now. Pointing your chin back towards the set, you jerk your head for him to follow. Leon’s agent pinches the bridge of her nose, mumbling something about leaps of faith from chandeliers and not again, but the man in the stained shirt couldn’t seem to care less. His eyes gleam.

“Hands-on, then.” Leon cracks a grin, rising to his feet. “I’m all yours.” 

Leon is desire painted monochrome.

You nearly throw yourself over the table at the back of the shoot the minute Leon pops up on your monitor. The printer spits out picture after picture that couldn’t be safe for work in your wildest dreams, but here you are, getting paid to take softcore of Calvin Klein’s newest poster boy, and your jaw is about to make friends with the floor.  

You didn’t know eyes could talk before Leon Kennedy. 

In one shot, he’s gazing at you from the glossed page, bedroom blues sizing you up. He’s daring you. Drag your eyes down the page. Go on.

And oh, if the the journey doesn’t reveal the ridged muscles lining Leon’s stomach as he reaches to shuck the shirt off his shoulders. The stain is a forgotten memory replaced by a new one burned into your brain for the rest of eternity, and you’re not the talking about the cologne. You’re staring at the patterned Calvin Klein waistband of his boxers. Slung dangerously low over his hips, begging to be relieved of their duty, so close you could pull them off with your teeth. 

“Any closer and you’re gonna lick the page, doll.” 

And mess up his pretty face? You wouldn’t dream of it.

Leon laughs when you go ramrod straight. “Seriously. You did amazing with that shirt-pulling save,” he says. “I know it’s a little intimidating to work with Ingrid and my team, but you handled it like a champ.” 

He tugs the photo out from under your fingers, uncapping a nearby pen to scribble something onto its backside. His tongue pokes out when he writes. He’s the cutest Adonis you’ve ever seen when he hands it back. “I knew you could,” he adds.

And then all too soon, just as your own tongue regains feeling, Leon leaves amidst the flurry of post-production. Leaves is the polite way to put it; his agent practically hauls him out by the collar by the time you muster up the courage to wave goodbye. 

Really? After everything’s all done? 

Well, almost. You flip the photo to read his note.

Pretty eyes, pretty mouth too. Put that second one to use next time? :)

They do say practice makes perfect.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[ahhnini]

oh im obsessed w frat rafe tarot reader i need more

omg tysm!! <3 this was sent a while ago, but I appreciate the kind words still!! here’s more about tarot!reader!reader (still don’t know what to call her😔) this was also supposed to be just headcanons but I got carried away. hope you enjoy!! <3

the world - frat!rafe cameron x tarot card!reader! reader

warnings - cw slight verbal harassment from frat boys, suggestive at the end

texts between rafe and reader / the star

ೃ༄ her dorm room is definitely filled with her little trinkets! from crystals, calico critters, to pieces of lace, she’s got it! she’s definitely the type of person to just pull out anything from her bag if anyone needs it.

ೃ༄ don’t forget her collection of her favorite tarot decks on her bookshelf! they’re her favorite because she loves the art, but also because some have been gifted to her from her friends from home! (they miss her dearly)

ೃ༄ adding onto that, she prefers pulling her daily card from one of these decks versus digitally, as it tends to resonate more (she only looks digitally if she doesn’t want to get out of bed)

ೃ༄ her nails are always painted. she figured if she was going to be doing readings for people, she couldn’t let them look at her bare nails. however, no acrylics, she’s tried them before, but unfortunately it became difficult to pull cards out with them :(

ೃ༄ despite what people think, she’s very intelligent! she’s a business major at her school, and she’s (almost) the top of her class.

ೃ༄ her outfits alwaysss give, and she always wears her signature red platform loafers. just one class for her? she’s putting them on. running errands? strutting in them.

ೃ༄ her niche is baking, she hasn’t baked for anyone at school, except rafe! he said to start up a bake sale at their college, but she said that she only bakes for her friends. that made rafe feel fuzzy inside.

ೃ༄ however, during her third year of college, things got rough :( the school had only let freshmen and sophomores live in the dorms, and reader hadn’t been able to make any friends except rafe. rent was dangerously high around town, so she spent most of her nights in her own shop, curled up on one of her beanbags.

ೃ༄ when rafe saw you, sleeping an inch of the floor through one of the windows of the building, he immediately rushed to you, entering the security code for the door and waking you up. it startled you, of course, you had thought someone was breaking in.

ೃ༄ once rafe reassured you, he ran to the cafe across the street for some bagels and coffee, and sat you up on your beanbag. from there forward, you’d told him everything, and he listened. you’d always be there to give him advice, so he felt a little guilty about not knowing your current situation.

ೃ༄ little did you know this conversation would take a turn of events you’d never expect.

ೃ༄ he smiles brightly as you both stand in front of his frat house, a small “ta-da” coming from his mouth. the hand around your suitcase clutched tighter as you try and stop yourself from nervously chuckling. he grabs your free hand, dragging you up the steps of the manor. he knocks on the front door, and you look at the ground, the clacking of your loafers becoming echoed.

ೃ༄ you put up a small smile when the frat president opens the door, he nods and introduces himself as jay before welcoming you and rafe in.

ೃ༄ it had been cleaner than you’d expected, minus some empty water bottles strewn across the floor. you didn’t know why, but from all the rumors you’ve heard, you were expecting something a bit more…grotesque.

ೃ༄ you make your way up the grand stairs, rafe carrying your suitcase, mumbling about how you have more trinkets in there than clothes. he shows you his room, and it was the complete opposite of your previous dorm. it was minimalist, barely any decor, and filled with monochrome black and white. bleh. the only pop of color that he had were the crystals he’d bought from you, which shine on his windowsill. “how do you live like this?” you ask, dropping to your knees and opening up your suitcase. he shrugs, “just like it like this,” you dramatically shiver your shoulders and he scoffs.

ೃ༄ your nerves didn’t calm down at all when rafe showed you around the house, and it had to be the time when most of the boys got back from their classes. although jay stated that rafe’s friend was going to be staying, he failed to mention said friend was a lady. especially the one whos reputation was said to be very antisocial around campus.

ೃ༄ some ogled, it was a given, some already gave you their numbers, adding a note to “call them if you get stuck in the washing machine” (ew) (and you swore you could’ve seen them with their girlfriends around town). nevertheless, rafe shut them all down, wrapping a protective arm around you.

ೃ༄ once dinner came around, you were amazed at the en suite buffet the house offered, sitting across rafe with your hefty plate of food.

ೃ༄ once night rolled around, you quickly realized that you and rafe had to sleep in the same bed, as there were no spares. you’d been fine with it, and rafe said he was fine with it, but you doubted that claim when he kept moving around throughout the night.

ೃ༄ eventually, he’d found a comfortable spot, spooning you, and you tried your best to not be bothered by his hardness pressing up against you as you drifted to sleep.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[hoe-for-daddywise]

Terrified of you killing me Art the Clown x reader

Tw: mentions of killing and blood

————

The night wrapped around you with a thick fog, suffocating and heavy as you ran towards the dark alley with heavy feet that seemed to take you nowhere. Your breathing staggered and time slowed, the line between reality and a nightmare blurring. Art loomed over you, the monochrome clown you knew so well, the man you loved, was holding a chainsaw and a crazed smile painted across his face. He’d caught up to his prey and you were rendered helpless as he lifted his weapon and began hacking at your arm. A piercing scream left your cracked lips in your dream just as it did in your laying form on your bed.

You bolted upright, your heart racing and sweat beading on your forehead. Art barged into your room holding the same chainsaw from your dream, raising it above his head ready to attack as the blade whizzed around breaking the silence in the room. His eyes were wide like a crazed animal and panic etched across his white painted face. You scream again, fear washing over you thinking that he’d finally decided to kill you, that he’d got fed up of you. Arts eyes widened, his mouth opened to an ‘o’ shape and he threw the chainsaw to the ground which landed with a loud clatter, still roaring with life, the blade vibrating with a menacing hum. He begin miming frantically, shaking his head and moving his hands in multiple gestures to show you he meant no harm. You watched the chainsaw in horror as it sliced through your bedroom door, splinters of wood flying. He pointed to the chainsaw, then to you and shook his head again, urgency on his face as he rushed to your side.

“Art, what the hell are you doing?” You shout over the growl of the chainsaw.

He grabbed your trembling hands and looked you straight in the eyes, offering a small smile.

“I-I thought you were going to kill me.” You cried.

He pointed at himself, shock on his face, and shook his head vigorously. Art pulled you into a tight hug as you grasped at his clown suit for dear life. Breathing in his scent.

“Did you think someone was attacking me?” You quiz, your body shaking.

He nodded his head .

“And you were going to kill them?”

He gave a small grin and held his hands out as if to say, ‘maybe’ then sat behind you, pulling you into his body as he rocked you. “I’m okay. Just another bad dream.” You smiled slightly, fully aware of how strange this situation was. You were in a relationship with a wanted serial killer clown who you were terrified would snap and kill you one day. But here he was, protecting you in his own strange way. “Thank you for coming to rescue me.”

He planted a faint kiss on your head.

“Although, it was you killing me in my dream.” You laughed.

You felt Art wince, he turned you to face him. He grabbed your phone and began typing something on the notes page. He showed you the sentence he wrote, ‘I will NEVER hurt you.’

You smile up at him, watching how he points to himself, draws a love heart in the air and then points at you.

“I love you too.” Relief washing over you as your lips connect for a moment. Art is your home and you couldn’t imagine life being any other way.

[sillylilreader]

a fateful hue (Shoto Todoroki x Reader) (Soulmate Au)

sorry I haven’t posted in a bit :/ haven’t felt well tbh

Summary: In a world of soulmates, where you experience color upon finding your soulmate, you discover yourself entangled with a certain dual toned employee after a rather amicable breakup.

Warnings: angst, fast paced, alcohol, breakup, not a happy ending,

It was a lousy morning, for a lousy day, for an even lousier night. You’d lost your job, your boyfriend, and even your wits all in one day. 

Your job had been threatening you with termination for months now, saying you’d taken too many days off, been late too many times. Today was the last straw, as you showed up at 7:31, instead of 7:30. It was silly, really, that this was the nail in the coffin for them. Surely, someone else had fucked up worse that day. But alas, you had received the boss’ rage in the end, as she kicked you out with your box of little decorations and doodads. 

As for your boyfriend, you knew it was over long ago. You’d known each other for ages, stayed together for the familiarity. But as soon as you shared your first kiss, your first touch, you knew it wasn’t gonna work. You both pulled away with the oh so familiar look of disappointment. As soon as he called you, voice filled with a suppressed excitement, you knew he’d found his soulmate. You let him go, with not so much as an ‘oh no’, and just like that he was packed up and gone when you returned home.

‘The least he could’ve done was clean up…’ you thought to yourself, a slight anger bubbling in your tummy, as you returned to a trashed apartment. 

The apartment wasn’t trashed per say, but there was a slew of trash left in his wake. Anything he didn’t need was left behind. The familiar emptiness of the home left you hollow, feeling little like a home and more like just a room.

You were never one to dwell on the little things, moving through life at a brisk pace. But as you neared your thirties, getting steadily closer by the day, you found yourself becoming more and more desperate to find your soulmate in life. Your now ex boyfriend and you had thought you were being revolutionary by settling for each other, but as made apparent by his absence, neither of you were that happy with the other.

Maybe you should have fought harder.. You wondered. But, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t have stayed for you. It’s not that you thought you weren’t worth it. But you knew if you were in his shoes, you would have done the same.

As the sun went down, you decided a good bit of alcohol would do you some good. Anything to warm the ache in your heart, as you found yourself drowning in your own sorrow. You put on your warmest coat, trekking outside into the monochrome glow of the lowering star. 

Shadows crossed your path and blended into the pavement, making eerie shapes as you walked on by. 

You soon found yourself in the nearby liquor store, scanning the bottles on the rack, looking for something familiar. You were so involved in your search, that you barely registered the dual toned head of hair behind you. 

“Miss..?” they mumbled out, in a voice soft and monotone, causing you to jump in place and nearly knock over the display stand.

You whipped around, almost bumping into the stranger. “Sorry?” you stuttered, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

The dual toned eyes met yours, two shades of gray, matching the white and gray hair. “Are you looking for something… specific?” It was then you noticed the familiar employee uniform.

You also couldn’t help but notice the beauty of the man. He wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous. His bone structure was perfect, and beneath his uniform, he was seemingly fit.

Your brain stumbled over the words, struggling for maybe a minute too long. 

“Um... not really…” you paused momentarily, desperate to continue a conversation with any living being. “…do you have anything for a, um, breakup..?” You tried to maintain composure, even tried for a laugh, but as the words left your mouth, you’d finally realized the weight of your situation. Your lips trembled and your eyes watered, the burden of your body becoming heavier.

The employee reached a hand out in your direction, as if to help you with the weight, but he seemed to think better of it, retracting his hand at the last moment. A frown graced his features, an expression you thought shouldn’t look so perfectly poised on anyone. 

“Um... we have some… stronger options, this way,” he gestured to your left, offering to lead you down the aisle. You sniffled, gratefully accepting the help, following him down the lane. 

Your footsteps fell, quietly in sync with each other. It was a short walk, very short, but as you wiped away your forming tears, you thought you caught him sneaking glances at you. 

If it wasn’t for your shitty circumstances, you’d be flattered by such a pretty guy checking you out. 

I mean, come on, he looked your age, he had a calming air to him, and he even seemed to be a gentleman.

 ‘No, he’s just doing his job…’ you thought, disappointed in yourself. Getting yourself interested in someone so soon after your break up? Bad luck, you don’t want to treat someone as a rebound. 

As you reached the section of stronger alcohol, a brand known for its near toxicity, you turned to thank the boy, but he had already wandered off to continue helping customers. 

You found yourself a bit disappointed at his absence.

Afterwards, you quickly picked out your poison of choice, and made your way to the checkout, surprised to find him waiting for you there.

You waved, softly as if you were scared to disturb him, as you placed your product on the counter. 

“Thank you. For showing me, I mean… I know it must be tiring to deal with unaware people all day..?” You ended your sentence, as if it was a question. Embarrassment crept up your back as you floundered to save your mistake.

He scanned the product, a slight beep filling your ears. It would annoy you, if it weren’t for the boy in front of you.

He simply quirked an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile on his face. “No worries… Happens all the time,” he muttered absentmindedly. 

Once he had bagged the item, he turned to you. “It’s on me..” he spoke carefully, as if he might surprise you again.

You read his nametag carefully as he spoke, barely registering his words.

“Oh! Really? Well, thank you… Todoroki.. It was nice meeting you..!” you smiled, as wide as you could given the circumstances. You were sure he could see the sadness in your eyes, but it didn’t matter to you.

“Yeah, you too…” he waved, carefully, as you left, his gaze following you out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before you found yourself wandering back to the liquor store. You were intoxicated, not blackout, but close. You weren’t sure why your feet led you this way, but you were sure you had to get there. 

It had been weeks since you’d last seen him, or even been to the liquor store, but after a night on the bar, your feet drug you ever closer to his place of employment. 

Was this creep behavior? Yeah. Were you following through anyway? Also yeah!

As you were met with the familiar buzz of the neon sign, illuminating the sky around you, you found yourself questioning your motives. What did you hope to get out of this? Another small greeting? Todoroki didn’t seem like the social type, and surely wouldn’t appreciate a random stalker.

Sober you would be stopped dead in your tracks by this realization. But drunk you? They saw this as an opportunity! Maybe he would think you’re special, showing interest in him.

As you took your next step forward, into the shop, a hand grabbed you from behind, covering your mouth, and pulling you into the back alley roughly.

You squirmed and kicked against the strong hand, to no avail. You tried to scream, but nothing escaped you. 

As you began to run out of air, and the lights dimmed around you, you heard a door swing open and a quick set of footsteps. A loud crack went off, and you were dropped to the hard ground. 

As you regained complete consciousness, you were met with dual toned eyes, watching you wearily. 

“Are you alright?” a worried voice reached your ears, as his gaze raked your figure, looking for any injuries.

You quickly collected yourself at the sound of his voice, Todoroki’s voice, no less.

“Mmyeah..” your speech slurred, much to your embarrassment. Your brain was foggy, and you still hadn’t processed the attack. 

Your eyes quickly found the body of your assailant. He was a big dude, with dark hair and, apparently, darker motives. As you searched again for your savior, you caught Todoroki glaring down at him with the utmost look of hatred.

As if sensing your gaze, he perked up, meeting your eyes. “Let me help you up..?” he held a hand out in your direction. You gently waved his hand away, getting up yourself. You almost swore you caught a look of disappointment, faintly visible on his features.

It was then you realized just how beautiful he was, perfect bone structure and sharp eyes. His long lashes fanned across his cheeks so gracefully, you almost thought it was mascara, or falsies.

In your drunken staring stupor, you came to the conclusion that the moment had become awkward. Your cheeks flushed, as you tore your gaze away, hands coming to cover your darkened cheeks. 

His bicolored eyebrows knit together, as Todoroki watched you closely. “Can I walk you home?” he muttered, fidgeting with his phone. “At least let me take care of the 110 call..?”

You nodded faintly, grateful for the help.

As the two of you padded home together, you found yourself admiring him more, and more. You didn’t know much about him, but surely he was a kind soul if he helped you out. Anybody else would have turned the other way. And it was surely helping that he was so good looking.

You hiccuped, covering your mouth, flustered. Todoroki met your gaze, a confused look on his face as his eyes fell on your hand, hovering over your lips. Quickly, a dark hue dusted his cheeks and bled into his ears, as if he had an embarrassing thought. 

“Whatcha thinkin ‘bout..?” Your speech was slurred, bringing heat to your cheeks. “Anything interestin?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he mumbled, a surprising bit of humor laced into his tone. Was he laughing at you? 

You frowned, small enough that nobody would care, but big enough to notice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon enough you found yourself placed in front of your apartment, both of you lingering together.

“Come inside..?” you muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

His cheeks lit up, dusted with a heavy blush, eyebrows knitting together. “Sorry.. I.. I dont..-” 

Your eyes widened at the implication you made. “No! Not what I meant, ‘m sorry,” your words came out jumbled together, further embarrassing you. 

You sighed, dissatisfied at his lack of a proper answer, and slid down the door to your apartment, head in hands. You felt his careful stare on the top of your scalp, care and uncertainty filling his mind. 

“I guess.. I could come in for tea..?” Todoroki winced as he said it, ever so slightly, a ghost of an expression, really. What was he thinking? You were some stranger he barely knew. He was aware of some connection to you, but was it worth the risk? 

Apparently, it was.

As your face lit up, he knew he made the right choice. Your cheeks flushed, and your features displayed a look of excitement as you raised your head to meet his look. You nodded excitedly, rising from the ground, and clumsily unlocking your front door.

At your reaction, he flushed, a deep gray dusting the tips of his ears. Todoroki averted his gaze, eyeing the lights that adorned the apartment building, illuminating each doorway. 

As you lead him through your front door, he couldn’t help but notice the state of the place. The place was cluttered beyond belief, with little memories hidden everywhere, hard to let go of. His attention fell on a specific doodad, a small cat figure, each side a different color. The left half a pale tabby, the right a dark, patchy hue. 

He tenderly picked up the cat, inspecting it. Holding the dual toned feline, he caught your attention. 

“You like it..?” he nodded in response, a slight look of intrigue in his eyes. “You can have it,” you slurred, plopping down on a loveseat.

“I can’t accept this,” he shook his head. “It’s yours.”

You gingerly patted the space beside you, as you reassured him, he could keep the figure. Todoroki sighed, squeezing into the love seat with you, careful not to touch you. You felt a little hurt at the implications of his fear. You absentmindedly twiddled your fingers, humming to yourself. 

You two tried your best to make small talk, chatting amongst yourselves. You found his quiet nature endearing, but couldn’t help but want him to open up to you.

Wouldn’t that be special? It’s always nice getting someone to trust you. 

“So about the tea?” he gestured towards your kitchen, catching your attention. You instantly rose from your seat, so quickly in fact, you found yourself falling forward.

Todoroki reacted in the blink of an eye, extending an arm to catch you by the wrist. 

As soon as his skin came in contact with yours, your sight erupted into beautiful colors. Every hue of the rainbow made its way into your vision. Todorokie must have noticed it too, as his grip immediately loosened, causing you to drop to the floor.

As you rubbed your head, feeling the pain from the impact, you took in your surroundings. Todoroki stood over you with his hands to his chest, looking terrified. “I need to go…” he mumbled, under his breath. 

You instantly sobered up, hurt clear across your features, and not from the fall.”Huh..? But, surely you see it too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I need to leave,” And just like that, he sped for the door. “Goodbye..” he muttered, letting the door slam shut behind him.

You let your head fall back to the floor, ignoring the dull throbbing pain it brought. The real pain resided in your mind, your heart. Of course your soulmate would flake out on you.

You drowsily picked yourself up, the cold, hard floor trying to pull you in as your skin peeled off it. You made your way to the bedroom, haphazardly taking off your clothes and throwing them onto the carpet. The bed welcomed you in, dragging you into its warmth. You found yourself drifting off rather easily, thoughts and disappointment consuming you.

[cherrylired]

🕷 ˗ˏˋKINICH SPIDERMAN AUˎˊ˗ 🕷

———————————

This is just a little interest check, depending how everyone likes it I’ll continue or not.. Couldn’t get spider kinich out of my mind SO I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING DOWN RAAAHHH, kinda kinich‘s first day as spiderman, but from readers pov!! pls enjoy :P

Word count: 598

_______________

It was yet another normal day. You watch the buzzing streets as you walked to your rather boring accounting job. Never truly what was planned for your life but it pays. Days felt the same, monochrome as ever. Going to work at 8:30, coming home at 7pm, staying home and doing nothing with whats left of the day. It came to a point where you were yearning change, something drastic that would make everything polychrome.

You make your way into a quiet side street, where a bunch of small offices made their home. You get out your keys to the building, sighing. ‘Another week of this-‘, your thoughts were cut off by a loud bang behind you.

You jolt up, covering your ears and turning to the origin of the crash sound. Your eyes widen as you see a parked car, completely crushed, loose parts laying around it. Some missed you by just a few inches. Hands trembling, you freeze as a beast-like creature emerges from the car wreck. Heart beat quickens, everything in your body tells you to run, but nothing is moving.

The beast detects you, and immediately goes your way, grunting. “This is the way i die…”, you mumble to yourself, still unable to move a muscle.The creature quickens its pace, charging toward you. Squeezing your eyes shut and turning your head is the only thing you can do. Suddenly you feel an arm around you, pulling you away. The beasts growl faded, while the whistle of the wind grew louder. Eyes still shut, you decided to slowly open them.

You were flying? ‘Am I dead?’, you thought to yourself.

Looking to your right, a masked person is holding you. The mask has huge white eyes, contrasting their black suit. A spider symbol graces their chest while you notice the green web detailing all around. And all that was supporting you guys was.. a string? Before you could react, the person landed on a rooftop and slowly let you go. “Are you ok?”, a rather monotone, male sounding voice asked you. You are only able to nod in response, feeling like you’re in some kind of fever dream.

His big white eyes narrowed; looked like he was smiling? “Good to hear, i kinda have to go, you know.. uhm.. monster waiting for me..”, he moved awkwardly, as he took small steps away from you. He shot a web out of his wrist, ready to swing off.

“Wait! Who are you??”, you managed to finally say something.

“…”, you were met with a brief silence while he tilted his head, clearly in thoughts. “Uhm.. spiderman..”, he says, almost uncertain if he liked the name or not. He kept his web out, awkwardly holding his arm up. “Hey uhm.. my arm’s kind of starting to hurt, you’re fine right..? I have to catch that thing, you know..” he pointed at his arm, then down, where u saw the beast roaming around.

“Oh yeah.. yeah totally..!!” You nod waving him off. He smiles at you again, then swings off without another word.

“Spiderman?” You mumble as you watch him leave.

[elryuse]

Yandere mafia rose x male reader who likes to make her jealous

Mafia's Lover

Yandere Mafia Rosé X Male Reader

The world was a blur of red and pain. I remember the cold metal biting into my flesh, the acrid tang of blood filling my senses. A lifetime ago, it seemed. I was a ghost in my own body, a hollow shell drifting through a crimson haze. Then, he appeared. Y/n. An oasis in the desert, a beacon in the storm. His hands, gentle as a summer rain, tended to my wounds. His eyes, filled with a compassion I’d never known, held me together.

In that vulnerability, I found a strength I never knew existed. I clung to him, to the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breath. In those stolen moments, love bloomed in my heart, a defiant flower pushing through the concrete of my world. But my world was a harsh mistress. A world of shadows, where loyalty was a chain, and betrayal a death sentence. I couldn’t drag him into that darkness. I had to let him go, even as it tore me apart.

Months turned into an endless winter. The world was a monochrome canvas of gray, devoid of color, devoid of hope. But then, a flicker of life, a spark of defiance ignited within me. I needed to see him, to feel the warmth of his presence once more.

And there he was, my heart aching at the sight. Surrounded by a flock of giggling girls, he was a sun radiating warmth. A sun that should have been mine alone. Rage, a venomous serpent, coiled in my gut. How dare they? How dare they infiltrate my world, my Y/n?

I watched him through the binoculars, a silent voyeur to a scene that was both beautiful and agonizing. His laughter, once a melody reserved for me, was now shared with others. A bitter taste rose in my mouth, a cocktail of jealousy and longing.

I had to have him back. Not just for the love I felt, but for the control, the power it gave me. I was a queen in a kingdom of shadows, and he was my crown jewel.

The next day, I stood at his door, my heart a drumbeat of anticipation and fear. The moment he opened the door, my world shifted. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a raw pain that mirrored my own. It was intoxicating.

“I missed you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. But my hands, they spoke a different language. They wrapped around his, a possessive claim. His wince was music to my ears.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, my voice low, a purr of menace.

His eyes, wide with fear, were exactly what I wanted. He was trapped, a bird caught in my web.

“Those girls don’t deserve you,” I hissed, my voice laced with venom. “All you need is me. And only me.”

With a decisive pull, I dragged him inside, closing the door on the world. We were alone, two souls caught in a tempestuous dance of love, obsession, and control.

His fear was a sweet nectar, fueling my desire. He was mine now, completely and utterly. I would mold him, shape him into the perfect reflection of my desires. The world outside could wait. This was our moment, our world. A world of two.

I ran my fingers through his hair, the softness a stark contrast to the storm raging within me. His eyes held a mixture of fear and something else, something I couldn’t quite decipher. It intrigued me.

"Remember when I was weak, and you were my strength?" I asked, my voice soft, almost seductive. His eyes flickered, a silent acknowledgement. "I gave you everything, Y/n. My trust, my love, even a part of myself."

I paused, letting the words sink in. "And what did I get in return? Betrayal."

His lips parted to speak, but I silenced him with a gesture.

"Don't," I warned. "Your words are meaningless now."

I leaned in close, my breath warm against his skin. "Now, it's my turn to shape our destiny."

I could feel his fear, a delicious tremor running through him. It was intoxicating. I wanted to break him, to rebuild him in my image. And then, I would possess him completely. Body and soul.

I smiled, a predator's grin. The game had just begun.

A week had passed since I dragged him into this gilded cage I called home. In those seven days, I had transformed from the predator to the caretaker. I cooked, I cleaned, I tended to his every need. I had become the woman I had always pretended to be, the one I thought he wanted. And to my surprise, he seemed to be thawing.

The fear in his eyes had gradually been replaced by a hesitant trust. His body, once tense and rigid, now relaxed under my touch. It was a slow, insidious process, but I was patient. He was mine to keep, and I would ensure it.

I watched him sleep, his face serene in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. There was a vulnerability in his slumber that made my heart ache with a strange tenderness. This was the man who had saved me, the man who had ignited a fire within my soul. And now, he was mine.

Morning brought with it a new routine. I would wake him with soft kisses, the scent of coffee and toast filling the air. His sleepy smile was a reward I craved. We would spend the mornings together, lazy and intimate. I would read to him, my voice a soothing melody that seemed to calm his spirit.

In the afternoons, I would teach him about the world beyond his sheltered existence. He was fascinated by the stories of my life, the danger, the thrill. I painted a picture of a world that was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he listened with rapt attention.

As the days turned into a week, I began to see a change in him. The fear was fading, replaced by a quiet strength. He was learning to rely on me, to trust me. And in that trust, I found a love I never knew existed.

One evening, as we sat by the fireplace, I took his hand in mine. "You are safe here, Y/n," I whispered, my voice soft as velvet. "No one can hurt you."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion I couldn't fathom. "I know," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

I leaned in, our lips brushing together. It was a tentative kiss, filled with unspoken promises. When we pulled apart, I could feel the shift, a seismic change in the dynamics between us. He was no longer the terrified victim. He was becoming my equal.

My world, once a monochromatic canvas of black and white, was now painted with a thousand hues. There was still the darkness, the undercurrent of my past, but it was no longer the dominant force. Love, a foreign concept, was now a vibrant part of my life.

Time passed, and I managed to extricate myself from the underworld. The life of a mafia boss was not one I wanted anymore. I wanted a quiet life, a simple life, with Y/n by my side.

We opened a small cafe, a sanctuary away from the chaos of the world. It was a world away from the life I had once known. But in this new reality, I found a happiness I never thought possible.

Y/n thrived in his new role. He was a natural with people, his smile a beacon of warmth. And as always, he attracted attention. Young girls would flock to the cafe, their eyes sparkling with admiration. I watched him interact with them, the same warmth and kindness he had shown me.

A pang of jealousy would sometimes strike, a ghost of my past self. But then he would catch my eye, and with a playful wink, he would send the jealousy packing. I would smile, a mixture of love and amusement.

One evening, as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the cafe, I found myself watching him. He was laughing with a group of young customers, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I felt a surge of protectiveness, a remnant of my past life.

I walked over to him, my arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He turned, his smile widening. "Jealous, my love?" he teased.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Maybe a little," I admitted.

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "You're mine, remember?" he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

I turned in his arms, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. As we pulled apart, I looked into his eyes, seeing the love and adoration reflected there. I was home.

Days turned into weeks, months, and years. Our love deepened, a rich tapestry woven with threads of passion, trust, and companionship. The cafe became more than just a place of business; it was our sanctuary, a testament to our love story.

And as I watched the world change around us, one thing remained constant: my love for Y/n. He was my everything, my beginning and my end. And in the quiet moments, as we sat together in the warmth of our cafe, I knew I had found my happily ever after.

The end.

[lilacxquartz]

Don’t Make Me Feel Alive | Chapter 1

kenjaku x f!reader

plot: diagnosed at an early age with an illness that slowly deteriorated your body; you went from being a promising sorcerer to a retired husk of your once former self until he found you, offering you an opportunity to live instead—not that you had a choice to refuse.

chapter summary: you used to be so powerful before your illness claimed you and right on your deathbed, rather than finally meeting your end, you met your salvation instead. or did you?

themes: yandere, chronically ill reader, forced dynamic, non-con, dub-con, violence, caretaking, unrequited feelings, sorcerer reader, dead-dove, mixed pov, potential interpretations of dubious sorcery, spoilers

AO3 Link • Chapter Directory • Next Chapter >

1. Beginning

You were born with a disease; a terrible one too.

At first, you didn’t really notice it in your youth as the progression was initially subtle, the signs not really quite there just yet and for that duration, you were bustling with potential, a promising sorcerer with a powerful technique—a future so bright and aglow with promise.

However, all good things must come to an end and that’s exactly where you were headed.

Even if you were once sculpted with such strength and vibrancy—the illness drained away all the colour from your once saturated existence, replacing your present day life with a film of bleak monochrome, anchoring away at your body, soul and mind.

Not even your cursed technique known for its electrifying power was capable of reigniting the spark lost within you; your body relented against you, forcing you to succumb and deteriorate with not a single thing you could do.

It was a little humiliating in a way—like a bitter pill that you weren’t quite ready to swallow and yet here you were, forced to face reality whether you wanted to or not.

It felt strange being on your deathbed in your mid twenties, but it wasn’t all too bad.

The doctor who oversaw you did her best to offer comfort, assuring you that it likely wasn’t your time just yet, but she didn’t feel what you did, she didn’t understand your body the same way that you did. It was close, almost time for you to go, but strangely you didn’t quite mind. Whether it was your final week or your final day, you felt excited; you wanted to rest.

This was a sickness that made you feel weak after all, so tired and terribly sore.

So when you felt that strangely alluring pull invite you to a place you probably shouldn’t quite tempt going to just yet, you found yourself unable to resist the promise of a good sleep. Maybe even, with some luck, it could last forever and you would never have to live out your days in pain again.

To finally be devoid of suffering.

To drift off into oblivion, lost in an eternal void.

And yet, as you succumbed to the total darkness that otherwise awaited you, there was a strange sensation that manifested in the waking world—an interference of some kind? It felt as though unseen hands reached out to grab you, interrupting you from going under a final time and pulling you back to the surface, forcing you to live another day.

Your eyes reluctantly opened, feeling that something was off.

You were being monitored—watched by something, someone.

Your eyes focused on the person who stood before you, meeting with his chilling gaze from a stare so vacant and devoid of humanity, that he could have been the devil himself.

The stranger greeted you with cold indifference, bordering contempt as he continued to guide his gaze, the palms that he had initially planted firm against your chest now slowly moving away, having successfully done something that you couldn’t quite understand; your body still felt sore and yet, the pull of the void wasn’t so strong anymore.

Did he just give you life?

“It would be such a waste of a good technique if you were to die right now, you know,” the stranger spoke, his voice calm and deliberate, laced with a threat that he kept hidden well.

“What good is it if I can’t use it?” you croaked in response.

His lips curled into an amused smile as he heard your question, those soulless eyes finally ablaze with life, a flicker of something almost human.

“You can. Or, at least, I can make it so that you will be able to again.”

“Impossible,” you denied, knowing fully well that your body didn’t work the way you wanted it to, no matter how many times you have tried before.

“Don’t be so sure,” he persisted, his voice ringing almost melodic as he continued to fill your mind with ideas you couldn’t quite believe, “don’t you want to live your life again?”

You sighed into a nod, however not trusting the stranger just yet. There was something incredibly off-putting about him, seeming just a little too calculated and methodic, as if danger lurked behind his promising words.

“I mean, I want to, but…” you began.

“Sleep on it,” he told you, seeming to tease you as his widening grin revealed his teeth, “you were about to anyway, weren’t you?”

“Y-yeah, but-”

“Then do so,” he said, taking a step forward, “dream.”

The strange man’s words felt strangely hypnotic as you found yourself exhausted once again. A part of you wondered if this was some sort of hallucination already, perhaps one of those dreams that people could have as their bodies closed up shop, even if you did clock it as unfortunately real.

You closed your eyes as you let the pull of the void take you under once more, feeling the strangely familiar touch of unseen hands tugging away at your body once again, pulling your soul back up to the surface, preventing you from fading away. It was again that you felt haunted by a looming danger, your eyes blurring to focus awake.

When you finally properly awoke, you took immediate note that you weren’t in the hospital anymore despite being hooked up to similar machinery.

Where exactly were you?

As you sat up to make sense of your surroundings, your eyes scrolled around the room in a surge of desperation—your gaze begging for a clue, only for your stomach to drop as your body froze. Right by the door, he stood there, that same man from before with his creepy, unsettling smile.

“I will be honest with you though, you might not like what you’ll have to do,” the strange man spoke, his words flowing as smoothly as they did before.

“Which is…?” you asked, sounding a little resigned. Of course there was a catch, there always was.

“You’re going to be helping me with something.”

You blinked, “And that’s bad?”

“Given your prior alignment, I’d say so,” he smiled as he took a step closer, his fingertips brushing against your cheek, “but worry not, you will live should you accept.”

“But what if I refuse?” you dared to ask, your voice barely a whisper as his touch seemed to dampen your ability to speak.

“Don’t be silly,” he replied with a softer tone, his black eyes boring into yours as he intensified his unrelenting gaze—his smile falling flat, “I wouldn’t let you.”

(Not even if you tried to do so again and again.)

[unconventional-lawnchair]

What's Your Name {Sneak Peak}

Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

An: I have been working on this slowly for months, you can kind of tell by the writing style this one is a bit more serious then the other fics I've done. (There is a very big possibility this will turn into Moonwater x Reader)

WC: 1933

CW: Sad boy Regulus, Fox! reader,

It was early morning, the air sharp with the chill of autumn. The first full moon of the school year always left you exhausted, your body aching from the 12 hour long transformation, your mind foggy as you trudged your way back through the thick forest. The gray sky above added to the heavy feeling in the air, casting everything in an almost monochrome haze.

“How’s he doing?” You asked James, who was half-carrying Remus through the dense underbrush. James just grunted in response, his face a mixture of concentration and concern. You sighed, taking the lead, your steps light as you led the way. Sirius was walking beside Remus, making sure the taller boy didn’t stumble.

“‘M fine,” Remus muttered, his voice rough and tired. He was trying to steady his steps, but you could see the strain in his posture, the way his face had paled despite the bruising and scaring of the night before. “I’ll be fine.”

You offered him a small smile, and Remus managed to return it, even as he winced. Even in the worst moments, he still had that kindness in his eyes that made him feel like home.

“Rem-”

“Are you serious?” Sirius’ voice cut through your words, and you glanced at him, confusion crossing your face. His eyes were narrowed, focused on something ahead, and you followed his gaze.

There, at the base of a large oak, sat Regulus Black, completely unaware of the group of students approaching. He was hunched over, a journal in his hands, lost in his own world as he scribbled something with quick, precise movements. What was he doing in the middle of the forbidden forest mid dawn?

Sirius huffed in annoyance, though you couldn’t quite tell if it was irritation at seeing his brother or at the sheer inconvenience of it all. “How the hell do we get around him without him noticing us?” he muttered, eyes darting to the side.

You scanned the scene, trying to find another route. The thick trees and brambles of the forest were no help, and then you glanced back at Remus, who was beginning to falter again. His face had gone a little green, and you could tell he was fighting the exhaustion.

"... I'll handle it.” You said softly, giving a small nod to your friends. Before anyone could protest, you shifted- your form shrinking and curling, your limbs transforming until you were on all fours, your senses now sharpened. The world was suddenly lower, closer to the earth. In an instant, you scampered off into the underbrush.

Regulus was muttering to himself as you got closer. You moved silently, your paws barely making a sound on the cold, damp earth. The transformation was still a strange sensation each time, but the rush of freedom as a small, nimble animal never failed to make you smile. You padded closer to Regulus, the rustle of leaves underfoot barely noticeable against the quiet murmur of his voice.

“…until the branches… loosen their crown..” He murmured, his words blending into the rustling of the trees and the sound of morning birds.

You slowed, creeping closer, careful not to let him notice you. Regulus was always so still in these moments- introspective, lost in his own thoughts. You watched him from behind the tree, noticing how his quill scratched the paper with such delicate precision. His face, usually a mask of sharp features, softened with concentration.

It was then that he paused, staring at the page with a frown. He sighed, a deep, almost frustrated breath, and lowered his head. His hand dropped, the quill resting in his lap. His pearly gray eyes lifted to stare at the endless rows of trees, and for the briefest moment, you caught a glimpse of vulnerability that almost made you hesitate.

You didn't give yourself time to think, as you slowly slunk forward and inched closer and closer to the book. Only then did you hear the bark of the tree crumble under shifting weight. Your eyes flickered up to meet Regulus’s. He was staring in silent shock to see not just any woodland creature, a silver fox, who most certainly was not from around the area, inching closer to him.

Your ears flicked around wildly and your nose wiggled about . He flinched as you lunged forward, biting down on his book and dashing off into the forest. You were luckily familiar with it all, the largest trees and haze of red and gold did their best to obstruct your vision.

Regulus blinked, his mind still trying to catch up with what had just happened. One moment, he was lost in his thoughts, the words of his journal pouring out in a rush of frustration, and the next, a random animal was stalking towards him. His journal, his something no one had ever touched but him, was now clutched in the fox's jaws, its pages fluttering in the wind as it vanished into the forest.

"What-" Regulus stood up sharply, his heart racing, his chest tight with a mix of irritation and shock. He glanced down at the empty spot where his journal had been, his fingers instinctively reaching for the pages that weren’t there. “You-"

Without thinking, he shoved his quill back into his bag and began to chase after the fox. He had no real plan, no clear reason why he was doing this, but the thought of losing his work- his years of thoughts- was unbearable. And then, of course, there was the strange part of him that couldn’t help but be intrigued by the oddity of it all. A fox. In the Forbidden Forest. And why did it feel like it was leading him somewhere?

His boots crunched through the fallen leaves, and his breath quickened as he pushed forward, his eyes scanning the path ahead. The fox was fast, so much faster than he had expected. It disappeared and reappeared in flashes of silver and black, weaving in and out of the trees, leading him to where he could only assume was deeper into the forest. The fog was starting to clear, and as the dense trees parted for a moment, Regulus saw it- you- pause in a small clearing up ahead.

The fox was sitting there, still as stone, its tail twitching. You had stopped running, your body poised in a way that suggested you were waiting for him. Regulus slowed his pace, a flicker of hesitation passing over him. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t sure what to do. What was this creature? Was it a simple animal? Or something more? Something he should be afraid of? He wished he paid more attention in divination.

He took a few careful steps forward, and the fox didn’t move. Instead, your eyes- bright and intelligent- locked with his. There was something in those eyes that made his throat tighten. A spark of recognition? Perhaps it was simply the oddness of the situation, but it felt like a silent challenge.

"You…" Regulus muttered under his breath, his gaze narrowing as he crouched down, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand. But he didn’t draw it. For some reason, he felt no threat, just that odd pull to understand. “What are you?”

The fox tilted its head, as if listening, as if it understood. It sat in the clearing, still clutching the book in its jaws, its fur gleaming like silver in the soft, pale light that filtered through the canopy above. Regulus took another step closer, his breath coming shallow now. He felt the strange weight of the moment. A realization creeping up on him.

“Are you my… guardian angel?” He asked hesitantly and that was when your eyes flashed open wide. Your body gave an odd trill, from your hips to your tail in bundled anxieties.

The question hung in the air between you, fragile as spider silk that clung to the long strands of grass that dwarfed your figure. Regulus’s voice, usually so hard-edged, was softened, almost vulnerable. It was strange, seeing him like this, so open and curious, a side of him you’d never knew existed. It was here you saw the red rims of his eyes and the bags that hung low under his sockets.

It wasn’t that you typically paid him any mind. The only time you'd speak of him was with Sirius, on nights he couldn't sleep with that terrible yearning he felt so deeply for his brother. Something he never admitted to anyone else, no matter how much you begged him to just tell the younger Black.

You wondered, looking into his big pale eyes, filled with sadness and innocent curiosity, if he was yearning too.

You tilted your head, trying to make sense of what he saw when he looked at you. A guardian angel? You almost wanted to laugh- guardian angel seemed far from the truth, considering how you felt after a night of chasing around a disaster of a werewolf, your own sense of self blurred at the edges. And yet, there was something tender about the notion, something that made you pause.

What was going on behind those eyes? That made him think he needed one?

Carefully, you set the journal down between your paws, nudging it forward just an inch, your eyes meeting his again, as if to say, ‘I am real. I am here.’

Regardless of your bleeding heart, you would be there.

Regulus hesitated, still kneeling in the clearing, his expression a mix of relief and suspicion. He looked from your face to the book lying just within reach, and then back up to you, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand. You held his gaze, silent, knowing the moment wouldn’t last, knowing he’d take the journal and the new boy you'd just met would never be back. Those soft eyes would return to their steely ice. But for now, you let the possibility linger in his mind. Perhaps you were more than just a fox. Perhaps, in this brief encounter, you could be whatever he needed you to be.

He finally reached for the journal, his fingers brushing against the damp forest floor. You felt a tug in your chest, a longing to reveal yourself, to let him know you had seen him. That someone had seen him. But the sun was rising, casting its hazy light over the clearing, and you knew your time was running short. With a final look, you took a step back, blending into the underbrush as you began to retreat, leaving him to wonder what had just happened.

Regulus watched you go, his expression lingering between wonder and confusion, and a hint of something softer, something guarded but longing. His fingers tightened around the journal as you disappeared into the shadows, silver fur melding with the forest’s dark blur.

As you slipped back through the trees, the urge to turn and reveal yourself gnawed at you. To ask him what those pages meant to him. What a curious fox like yourself could possibly do for him. But there were secrets that had to be kept, and you had done that for Remus, not for Regulus. For your dear friend, not a stranger.

With that thought, the reminder to return to the castle to your pack, you left him behind, returning to your friends who waited hopefully at school by now. You guiltily hoped the quiet warmth of that moment would stay with him, as a small comfort, a quiet promise etched into a strange moment between fox and foe.

[occamstfs]

How To Be A Father

This was meant to be a shorter one but it seems to have gotten away from me, I hope you enjoy! I’ve got a special one coming later this week! Gonna do a little epistolary/diary multi TF to celebrate 500 Followers !! - Occam

Franklin’s older brother, Jack, was a soon-to-be dad, he is terribly nervous about raising a kid, as anyone should be. Franklin was looking for some way he could show his support. His eyes scan the shelves of the local bookstore, sure that there must be something of use in the advice section. He has only just graduated university and remains in a sea of uncertainty but at the very least he could buy his brother some pittance of a self-help book.

There wasn’t exactly a sea of options available, many of them were clearly religious, some were on raising children in other cultures, one particularly gaudy one was a guide on rearing the perfect American citizen. Franklin prepared to throw in the towel and order a book to be delivered, before at the end of the aisle he saw a simple clear cover, upon which was written, “How To Be A Father.” It didn’t even have the author’s name on the front. Franklin couldn’t help but let his interest be piqued as he goes to pick it up.

As he does so it’s almost as if the lights of the store dim as the monochrome cover continues to call out to him. Before checking the contents he checks the back looking for any hint of what lies between the pages and finds another completely featureless page. At this point Franklin’s eyes would usually roll as he returns this obnoxious marketing mishap to the shelf, but instead his brows furrow. He simply must know what is inside. He rushes to open to the first page as his mind can only obsessively demand the contents of the book. 

He opens to the middle of the guide, stumbling on a photo of what may as well be the platonic ideal of man. Franklin’s stomach lurches in discomfort, his heart pangs knowing he could never be such a man, as the image in front of him. His eyes trace the jawline defined even through a dense beard. He hungers to be even a hundredth as masculine as the imagine in front of him. Franklin glances at the next page hoping for some recipe to be just like him, rubbing his hairless jaw as he turns eyes blurring as he reads the sentence:

"A Real Father Is Strong."

He audibly grunts as he reads the sentence and holds that exemplar of man in his mind. He doesn’t dare desire to be a father, but strength. How could he not want that? He looks down the page hoping for work out tips but his eyes find no purchase as the words blur together. Nevertheless he stares at the smudges, willing them to give him answers, as the book begins to work its own will unto him.

Franklin has spent little time on his body. It has never been a priority for him, and yet now he wants strength? The book grows warm in his hands as his eyes roll back. He bites his lip as he feels the warmth begin to surge from the book into his arms. Veins begin to bulge in his hands as they continue up his arms. His hands grow calluses from day after day of lifting iron. His forearms burst forth growing to a size larger than his calves are currently. He feels his shirt soon grow tight around his biceps as muscle begins to bulge. Thick veins appear down the direct center of his arms as he is overcome with pleasure.

The strength does not stop flowing into him as his arms start to rip open his sleeves however. Just as soon as his massive biceps make room for themselves his chest begins to demand its own attention. Muscles that he didn’t even know he had cramp on his chest as pecs burst out of his chest shooting buttons down the aisle. Just after this he feels his back expand similarly giving him a wingspan he never dreamed he could achieve. His knees buckle as he feels the warmth force itself into his lower body. 

He slams to the floor loudly as his growing limbs fall out from under him. Sensing challenge from the forearms his calves rip holes into his pants as they reach a size and definition of a bodybuilder and his thighs swiftly follow suit creating a tear from his waist down to his feet, fully exposing Franklin’s lower body as he struggles to stay conscious. Not to be out done he feels his feet begin to press against to press against the boundaries of his shoes, the tongue bulging out as he starts to hear the fabric tear before he’s interrupted-

“Um, Excuse me sir? Do you need help up?,” asks a clerk at the bookstore, seeing Franklin on the floor.

Franklin’s face blazed red at being caught in such a compromising position as he shoots up to standing. “I! So sorry I don’t-“ he struggles to explain what he thinks happened having fully lost himself in his growth. As he looks down at himself however he sees that although his clothes are fitting tighter, there are no rips to be seen. His nipples make themselves well apparent through the polo, but his sleeves remain untorn, and his pants hug his waist and ass but are clearly in one piece. There is also a massive bulge in his pants though it is thankfully not growing at the moment.

Franklin starts to make small talk with the clerk who checked on them but before getting very far he is thrown off guard as the clerk replies, “I don’t know sir”. Why the kid keeps calling him sir? Kid? Franklin is sure they’re about the same age the kid can’t be less than  twenty three? Well wait? Franklin isn’t twenty three either, that had to have been? Franklin feels his mind start to heat up as a massive headache starts to build. He stares down at his feet as the clerk once more grows concerned.  

The problem does not stay for long however as he sees the book he was so obsessed with is on the floor. That can’t be right! As he goes to pick it up he finds it is on a new page! Excited to learn what new wisdom lies in store he is greeted once more with an all too eye catching man. It’s a mirror selfie which should have no place in what is presumably an advice book. His body is absolutely shredded as he smirks from the page, but even more eye-catching is his massive cock.

Franklin does his best to look away from this clear attempt at softcore porn lest he have yet another issue growing out of his clothing. Unfortunately the text opposite the image is even less help to this end, Franklin can’t help himself but read:

"A Real Father Is Horny."

If the power flowing into him from the book filled him with pleasure, it was truly nothing compared to the energy and desire burning through his veins now. The clerk's eyes widen as the sound of fabric stretching emanates from Franklin’s crotch before being immediately followed by the loud tear of a zipper bursting off. He quickly looks away before seeing whatever has apparently burst from Franklin's pants as he stares at the man in shock.

The embarrassment only heightens Franklin's ecstasy, his clothes caress his powerful body as he feels his balls pulse as he feels them shift into overdrive, begging Franklin for release as they fill his barely hanging on briefs. Briefly keeping his lust at bay he looks up to see the clerk still in front of him and chokes back a grunt of hunger. His body flexes to pounce before he hesitates, god, he looks like he could be my kid. But that would- That can’t be right. 

Before he can question any further he feels his balls grow even bluer as his cock begins to create rips in his underwear. Putting off his lust just long enough to avoid criminal charges he runs from the man who he could have sworn was his age, or his son’s age? His breath catches in his chest as he storms down the aisle. He feels his nipples scratch against his shirt as pre soaks through his increasingly torn briefs. He clenches his jaw to avoid moaning as he leaves a trail of sweat in his wake, barely making it inside the restroom and locking the door.

The cool air shocks his body as he holds his sweaty body against the door. Directly across from him is the mirror, seeing himself sets his hunger aflame higher than anybody can sustain. He sees his cock fully burst from his pants, sticking out straight from his crotch, the length he would’ve sworn his forearm was. Looking back to the mirror he flexes at himself and fully loses the ability to hold back. He moans as he cums without even touching his cock. His balls pulse as they continue producing five more loads to take the place of this one as he slides against the door, leaving a trail of sweat on the door as he moans and closes his eyes.

When he reopens them he finds himself in a thankfully different scene. There is no sign that he came all over the floor of a public restroom and he did not have a boner burst from his pants in front of that clerk. He’s been this horny his whole life, he knows how to handle himself. Fuck did he turn him on though. Franklin decides he needs to masturbate more, can’t be getting so horny for college hunks now that his son’s going to school. Fuck! He doesn’t have a son! Franklin knows something horrible is happening but before he can even start to make a connection he sees in front of him, precisely where he thought he came on the floor, his book. Lying open to a new page. He hasn’t the willpower to even feign resistance. He sees a powerful bear of a man. Franklin craves his power. He craves his virility. He needs to be more like him. He doesn’t even need to read the page opposite for it is already ingrained into him.

"A Real Father Is Mature."

He burps as his tight abs quickly begin to soften and slightly bloat into what can only be described as a dad bod. He rubs his still growing stomach as his pubes inch above his waistline and shadow the whole of his torso.  His body loses definition though he of course exercises to stay tight and strong as any real father should. He feels his hairline then as dark arm hair inches up towards his shoulders. He smirks as he reaches up to scratch at his ever-present stubble. Exposing his hairier pit to the fresh air, he laughs as his mind is filled with thousands of jokes, each worse than the last. You could say he’s Armed for every occasion he laughs as he flexes at himself in the mirror, each chuckle sounding deeper than the last.

Frank looks in the mirror ahead of him and feels and starts to chub up once more. He looks younger than he remembers being, although with each laugh at his own jokes his hair starts to grey and his forehead lines grow deeper. Each final change cementing him as a real father like the book suggests. He needs to go try these dad jokes out on an audience now. His son Jack would love to hear them.

Frank feels content looking at the book in front of him. This will be the perfect gift for his kid. This thing’ll make a dad out of anyone, lord knows it's worked wonders for him! Frank chuckles to himself, as his stubble grows out into a beard, thinking about whatever less-than-clever joke he’ll tell his son when he gives it to him as he heads out of the bookstore. He eyes the clerk that went to help him earlier as a hunger begins to build within Frank once more. The twink seems to be looking at a book on the shelf as if he’s never seen one before. He starts to reach out to its white cover as he thinks to himself, couldn’t hurt to see what’s inside.