#he has a monster inside of him but maybe it never consumes him because hes used to the monster

[mossterunderthebed]

[alchemistc]

He'd had a dream about this, once. Sweat still cooling, sheets tangled at his feet, a view of Eddie Diaz's bedroom ceiling.

Sue him - Tommy's not the first guy who ever had a raunchy dream about a straight friend. For a few weeks there, both Diaz and Evan Buckley had featured heavily in his rotation. And then Evan had tried to murder his best friend and Tommy had kissed him about it and now...

Tommy shifts his weight. Slides his hand across the sheets - Evan's sheets, still familiar even if the location has changed. Christ, why had Eddie never scraped the popcorn off his ceiling? It's an easy job, really, even if it is painfully boring and time consuming, he could -

The hand that curls around his neck, just under his jaw, is light, careful, still possibly covered in Tommy's cum.

"I missed you," Evan says, and Tommy feels the panic bubbling under his skin, a miasma of humming thrumming reminders that this had been a bad idea from the start. That "randomly" running into his ex three shots deep at the bar had been one of his shittier plans, fueled by his own tipsy jealousy at seeing Evan's drinking partner grinning at him for a good hour while Tommy got progressively worse at pool.

He opens his mouth to let Evan down. He can't do this There's no world where this changes anything. For Christ's sake, he'd only done it because the possessive monster inside of him had heard Evan introduce him to Ravi Panikkar as 'my... Tommy' and the rest of his brain had left the fucking building.

"Everything is so screwed, Tommy. Eddie, and Maddie, and - I just. I want to work on this. I want - I know I didn't say it right before, but everything went to shit that day and if we could just..."

He's always done this. Fucked Tommy to the brink of brainlessness and then proceeded to talk a mile a minute like the sex they'd had was inspirational and energizing. Tommy'd been endeared by it from the start. He still is.

He fucking hates that.

"I can - we can go slow. You set the pace, Tommy, I promise."

"Buck," he starts, and everything in Evan shuts down all at once.

He's done a poor job of keeping that line drawn in his own head - all these months later and he still thinks too much about him, still thinks of him as Evan, and it's a shitty thing to do when they're both fully aware that it's something of a treat for both of them - that name that's been mostly Tommy's since the day Buck found himself at the academy with three Evan's and grinned his way through a nicknaming process.

Evan's hand unfurls from its spot, fingers slipping from where they'd been working at his earlobe. He's gone from soft and pliant glued to Tommy's side, to stiff as he rolls away, sheets travelling with him, and Tommy doesn't fight it when they shift free of him, leaving him bare as the day he was born.

At least he's got his trusty fucking walls. Those at least will keep Evan from glancing up and seeing him break his own heart in two twice over.

Evan rolls to a sit, heaves his legs over the bed. In the soft light Tommy can map out the constellation of moles on his curved back as he drops his head into his hands.

The silence is deafening.

"I, uh ... I think you should go?"

Tommy's certain he doesn't mean for it to sound like a question. He's also certain Evan Buckley has never once in his life been anything but a novice at hiding emotion in his face, body language, voice.

He's pretty sure they could do this a hundred times and Evan might just let him.

Tommy doesn't speak as he gathers his clothes. Doesn't speak as he steals furtive glances around the hem of his T-shirt, doesn't speak as he realizes he didn't even make time for cleanup so he's definitely driving home with the evidence of this night still fucking on him.

Evan's still cradling his head in his hands when Tommy shoves his foot into a boot, not bothering with laces because maybe he'll just fucking trip on the curb and fall into oncoming traffic. It might be the better option.

"I'm -."

"Don't," Evan says, just loud enough for Tommy to know he's barking around a phlegmy throat. "This is worse, just so you know. It was already bad, Tommy..."

Tommy expects there to be more, but there isn't anything. Evan's shoulders heave, and Tommy grabs his keys and phone off the side table, and he blinks and he's somehow out the door, eyes stinging and blood rushing in his ears and he honestly shouldn't be driving but he's not gonna leave his fucking truck here.

He's not entirely sure how he makes it home. He comes back to himself with scalding hot water washing away the evidence of his fuck-up, throat sore and jaw tight and his phone blowing up on the bathroom countertop.

He shouldn't feel the vindication he does that at least this time he milked enough emotion out of Evan to make him send fourteen - his phone buzzes again - fifteen texts in a row.

He feels it anyway, and just to dig the knife deeper into his own chest he shuts his phone off for the night the moment he's towelled himself dry.

Tomorrow. He'll figure it out tomorrow.

He's been telling himself that for five months - a year - his whole fucking life. Maybe one day he'll be telling the truth.

[twlgholts]

always kind of was, j.b.

chapter five, full moon

— jacob black x f. reader

a/n: i have’t been able to stop writing LOL im having too much fun. especially loved writing the pack n leah (leah apologist forever sorry not sorry)

prev. series masterlist! next.

You have always loved Jacob Black.

But Jacob Black has always loved you.

Since the moment he met you, he knew. You were it. The one. And his crush on you? It was never really a secret. Everyone knew.

Billy knew first–long before Jacob even figured it out himself. He saw it in the little things: the way Jake would bolt for the first aid kit whenever you got a papercut, how he gave you the last bite of his sandwich even when he was still starving, and how he made a fool of himself dancing and singing off-key just to hear your laugh.

Billy rooted for you both in his own quiet way. He was there through everything–the good and the heartbreak. He noticed the way Jake flopped onto his bed and kicked his feet in the air like a kid after seeing you, saw the corner of his mattress cluttered with balled-up tissues from the day you told him you were moving to the few months that passed after you were gone.

He was never afraid to share his feelings with his dad, but this–this part of him, the part that loved you–was different. It felt too raw, too big. Too real.

Jacob Black was brave. Braver than most. He adapted to his phasing and new lifestyle faster than anyone expected. He faced monsters–real ones–without hesitation.

But losing you? That was what scared him.

And when you left, when the two of you went from inseparable to one hundred fifty miles apart, it almost broke him. Any further and he was sure he would’ve snapped. It was like some part of him had been ripped out and he didn’t know how to get it back.

Then you came.

The moment you walked down the hallway and looked at him for the first time in over a year, he felt everything crash over him like a tidal wave. His arms ached to you again. But when your eyes met–just for that moment–every system in his body misfired. Then lit up. Then misfired again.

And then he imprinted.

On you.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that. He thought he was prepared, thought he understood what imprinting meant. He didn’t expect it to be you. He didn’t even think it could be you. But he didn’t want it to be anyone else because no one else was you.

You had always been his everything. Now, you were his everything and nothing at the same time.

He needed you in ways he didn’t understand. He needed to see you. Hear your laugh. Feel your presence. It was all-consuming. Steady. Terrifying.

So he didn’t tell you.

He acted normal–or tried to. Even when everything inside him felt like it was shifting again, he thought keeping the truth from you was the right thing to do–at least for now. That keeping you away from the supernatural part of his life was protecting you. But maybe it was just protecting himself.

Things in Forks had been quiet lately, which was the only reason he had so much time to spend with you. But tonight? Patrol had picked up again and it seemed it would for the next couple days. Now, he’s rushing through the trees, pounding the damp earth beneath him as he shifts back and heads towards Emily’s.

You’re still on his mind. Always.

The porch light is glowing softly when he reaches the house. He opens the door and steps inside, shaking the cold from his limbs.

“How was patrol?” Emily calls from the kitchen.

“Quiet. Easy,” Jacob replies, a little breathless. He snatches a muffin from the counter and drops into a chair, stretching out his legs. “Need help?” he asks with a grin, even though he already knows the answer.

Emily gives him a look. “Not from you. Trying to avoid setting this place on fire tonight.”

He laughs around a mouthful of muffin as the rest of the pack filters in–wet footprints, muffled voices, and the usual chaos.

Paul groans and throws himself on the couch. “Dude. If I have to hear your inner monologue about her one more time–”

“You could phase out, you know,” Jacob mutters.

“I did. For like, five minutes. You were still thinking about her. Constantly.” Paul throws an arm over his face. “I swear, it’s like background noise now. Vampire, trees, squirrels, Jacob, Jacob, Jacob, her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her socks.”

“They were mismatched,” Jacob mumbles.

Embry chuckles. “He’s got it bad, bad.”

Leah, who’s been leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, raises an eyebrow. “Honestly? He’s been more himself with her back than he’s been in months.”

That quiets the room for a beat.

“Dinner’s ready!” Emily called out, cutting through the low murmur of post-patrol silence.

Instantly, the kitchen erupted into chaos—the shuffle of chairs, the scraping of plates, the bickering and teasing as the pack surged toward the table. Except Jacob. He stayed quiet, eyes down, mechanically loading his plate but barely tasting anything.

After dinner, everyone filtered out in different directions—Paul and Jared arguing over something dumb, Embry stealing another muffin on his way out, Quil making a joke about Sam’s “dad voice” before disappearing into the trees. Jacob lingered, collecting plates and stacking them neatly. Emily gave him a small, grateful smile as she took them from his hands.

“Thanks, Jake. You’ve got good manners for a wolf,” she teased gently, patting his back. “Go get some air.”

He gave her a nod and slipped outside.

The porch was quiet, soaked in moonlight. Sam was already out there, leaning against the railing, arms folded across his chest, eyes cast up at the sky like he was waiting for something.

A full moon. Ironic.

He hesitated for a second before walking over. They weren’t close—not like he was with Embry or Quil. For a long time, Jacob resented Sam. Thought he was a cult leader. Thought he stole his friends. But then Jacob phased and he started to understand. Started to see Sam in a different light. Maybe not a friend, but something like a quiet leader who carried more weight than he let anyone see.

Jake stood beside him without a word. The air was crisp, the breeze soft. Cicadas buzzed in the dark, their song a low, steady hum.

Sam spoke without looking at him. “You know, when I first phased I thought I was losing my mind.”

Jacob didn’t say anything, but he listened.

“I was the only one then. No one to talk to about it. No one to warn me. I thought I was broken,” Sam continued, his voice low. “Eventually I got a handle on it. But then I imprinted. And that was harder.”

Jake’s brow furrowed, eyes flickering on him. “On Emily.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. On Emily.”

He let the silence stretch.

“I was still with Leah,” he said, voice heavier now. “And I loved her. I really did. But imprinting doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t care about timing. Or history. Or who gets hurt.”

Jacob looked away, jaw tight. He’d heard the story before—but hearing Sam admit it, here, in the quiet, made it more real somehow.

“I fought it. Every day. For a long time,” Sam said. “Because how do you look someone in the eye—someone you hurt—and tell them it wasn’t your choice? That your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore?”

Jacob swallowed. “Do you regret it?”

Sam finally looked at him. “No. I love Emily with everything I have, but the pain it caused? I’ll always carry that.”

Jacob was quiet for a beat. Then he muttered, “I don’t feel guilty.”

Sam tilted his head, waiting.

“I’m just… scared,” Jacob admitted, voice rough. “It’s not just a crush anymore. It’s like—she’s in my blood now. Every second I’m not with her feels wrong. Like my skin doesn’t fit. But I don’t want her to feel like she doesn’t have a choice. I want her to pick me. Not because of some supernatural magic, but because she wants to.”

“That’s the thing about imprinting,” Sam said, thoughtful. “It doesn’t erase your personality. It doesn’t make you perfect. It just binds you. Makes your soul certain, even when your head is a mess.”

Jacob let out a short breath. “My head’s more than a mess.”

Sam cracked a small smile. “Yeah. I know that feeling.”

Suddenly, the screen door creaked behind them.

“Okay, seriously?” Paul’s voice rang out. “Can you two stop brooding out here. Some of us are still getting hit with your feelings at full blast, and it’s starting to mess with my appetite.”

Jacob groaned. “You eavesdropping?”

“We’re psychically linked, not eavesdroppers, genius,” Paul shot back, walking out onto the porch. He looked at Jacob, crossing his arms. “She likes you. Seriously. It’s kind of gross how cute it is.”

Jacob looked down, shoulders tense. “You don’t know that.”

“Okay, Romeo. She texts you first. She looks at you like you’re the sun. And you think we can’t tell? You’ve been howling about her in your head for weeks. Every little thought you have about her since you phased. I swear it’s like being trapped in a Nicholas Sparks movie.”

Quil leaned out the door behind Paul, muffin in hand. “He’s right dude. She’s into you. She always has been.”

Embry’s voice drifted from inside. “We’ve been placing bets. I said you’d crack by next week. Paul’s got Thursday.”

Jacob buried his face in his hands, groaning. “You guys are the worst.”

Sam laughed quietly and clapped him on the shoulder. “They’re not wrong. I got Sunday.”

Jacob didn’t reply, but his heart beat a little louder in his chest.

He still wouldn’t tell you. Not yet. But he was thinking about you. And the thought of you thinking about him too? That scared him more than anything else because it meant hope.

And hope, for Jacob Black, was the most dangerous thing of all.

[revelboo]

Thanks to you I'm making a large purchase of blokees transformers figures, my addiction starts again 😂😂

Do it! They’re tiny, so it’s fine. I may have ordered Prowl, Sideswipe, and Bluestreak from a guy on EBay

Skin and Bones Pt 8

IDW Megatron x Reader

• Is that him? Rumbling softly to himself, he leans forward to study the little sketch you’re making with your fingers on a corner of his unsupervised data pad and, sure enough, it is a surprisingly good depiction of him you’re drawing. And much more flattering than the pointy-denta version of Skywarp beside it, crouched like a monster. “You’re good at that,” he says and you look up so suddenly he realizes you were fully engrossed in your project and hadn’t even noticed he was there. He guiltily reaches to run a servo over your hair, spark warming when you reach up to touch him in return. “You like to draw?”

• Palm on that huge servo still lingering against your hair, you smile up at him, because he sounds genuinely curious. Like he actually cares about the answer and it’s sweet, the big warlord so achingly gentle with you. It’s really hard to believe the Seekers always spoke of his temper in hushed tones, though maybe he just keeps that side of himself hidden from you. It’s hard to believe that when he slides the tip of his servo against your cheek, though. “I do.”

• Optics half shuttered as you cling to his servo and just smile up at him, he’s reluctant to break the contact between you two. Especially in moments like this where you look up at him with trust he’s not entirely sure he deserves. Would you still look at him like that if you knew the things he’s done? Some because he was backed into a corner, but some, most, out of anger. “I’ll find you paints then,” he murmurs and your smile widens in pleasure, twisting about his spark. Your happiness a warmth inside him, slowly banking the anger that’s always there, sometimes all consuming, but never when you’re near.

• Beaming up at him as he finally pulls away, there’s a whisper of disappointment at the loss of his touch that doesn’t quite make sense to you. That makes you want to reach after him instead of letting your hand fall. He’s easier to get along with than the Seekers has been, so much less demanding. Starscream had needed praise and reassuring, Thundercracker to be talked to, and Skywarp had needed someone to listen to his silly plans and plots and encourage him. You’d felt like an adult babysitting in dealing with them sometimes, but Megatron asks for nothing from you but companionship. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you’re here against your will, because you enjoy talking to him. The stories he’ll sometimes tell of his world before the war, that rumbling voice deep with a longing that seems like it’s not for a place exactly, but belonging. And you wonder if he’s ever felt like he belonged anywhere.

• Your expression just then, it’s almost sad and he hesitates. Wants to ask what just crossed your mind, but resists. Doesn’t want to pry. He’s volunteered little pieces of his past, to try and get something from you in return. Of the mines and the gladiator fights. Carefully worded accounts that leave out the pain, trauma, hatred, and spilled energon, because if you knew it all, you wouldn’t smile at him. You’d be terrified. But you give him nothing back, keeping your life before Starscream stole you a secret and he understands even if it bothers him. Knows you must miss your freedom and wonders sometimes who you left behind and if you mourn them. You cry sometimes he knows, silently shaking and trying to keep that too from him.

Previous

Next

[yourbloodysunrise]

So— I have to double check if your up for requests and indeed you we're!~

I love Ninjago but your crk master list needs to be fed— That's why I have decided! Can I have dark cacao cookie x Touchy yet oblivious reader who loves to hug or just give physical affection to people? Femreader to be specific!

Like, imagine, reader was just walking by until she saw dark cacao having a headache, crouching a bit, rubbing his forehead, clearly having a terrible mood. But what's this? Two warms arms wrapped around his waist giving him a hug before letting him go and walking away like she didn't just hugged the king, leaving him there, standing there, looking like this: 🧍‍♂️, confused yet grateful before a familiar scent of his favourite warm drink made its way to his nostrils. Looking down, on his work desk is a cup of warm cocoa.

It's either a one shot or headcanons, I do not care— as long you feed my already delusional daydreaming then I do not care.

I also completely understand if you delete this or not interested! I, of course, also understand if it would take you a while to finish!~

I would also love to be dubbed as 🍒 anon >∆<

🌤️ — I have to admit, I'm even glad, because compared to Ninjago, my other masterlists looks a little empty lol. enjoy!

°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°

❝ Warm hugs for someone's cold heart. ❞

— FANDOM: COOKIE RUN KINGDOM.

— PAIRING: DARK CACAO COOKIE x TOUCHY YET OBLIVIOUS!FEM READER.

— ROMANTIC

— ONESHOT

— TW: BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, OOC, READER IS SUBJECT OF DC KINGDOM.

°.✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩.°

The sound of your footsteps echoes in the corridors as you involuntarily hum to yourself.

Today seems to have been a quiet day, and you've finished your shift. Although there were no monsters in the vicinity of the kingdom, you are still tired of being on duty all day guarding the kingdom.

Was it difficult to serve as a warrior in Dark Cacao Kingdom? In general, no, but the weather conditions, and sometimes the training, tired you all the time. Eh, you didn't complain anyway, because you worked for the good of the king and the kingdom!

During your service, it seems that the king has managed to like you, or rather, he has become accustomed to your company. You're better off, because now you're spending more time with Caramel Arrow and Crunchy Chip Cookie!

Funny guys. You've managed to make friends with a lot of people here, well, more precisely, those who also hang around his majesty in the palace, hehe.

There are a hell of a lot of rooms and it's easy to get lost, but the royal chef does his job well. It seems like you've never eaten so delicious when you were just a cookie.

For example, there is nothing better than a cup of cocoa after a hard day's work! In fact, you rarely consume anything sweet like cocoa or milk chocolate. It's mostly bitter food..

Well, what can you say, you managed to make friends with the cook.

Actually, you were originally going to relax in the western part of the castle, there is usually no one there, but you were interrupted by a loud guttural groan.

You stopped, frozen in place, and turned your head towards the source of the sound. I think it's in one of the rooms..Was that king? Is he hurt? Was he attacked?!

With quiet but quick steps, you creep up to the doorway of the room from which the sounds came, and, sighing softly, preparing for a possible fight, look inside..

..However, to your surprise, you did not see either a fight or a possible opponent. You saw the king standing with his back to you, leaning on the table with one hand, while the other rested on his head, clutching his temples.

Oh, His Majesty must be unwell, and you've already started a panic here! Although, it's still annoying that he doesn't feel very well..

Hey, maybe you should cheer him up. Maybe it'll help! With these thoughts in mind, you carefully approached him.

Dark Cacao Cookies generally felt fine, except for a small headache. There have been a lot of problems lately, especially after the battle in Beast-Yeast..

He is interrupted from his thoughts by the feeling of a small hand clasping his body from behind and the feeling of something warm pressing against his back, which he felt even through his armor.

Dark Cacao Cookie turned his head back and just wanted to hit the troublemaker, thinking that they were doing it on purpose to annoy him, but stopped when he recognized you, and with a sigh, the tension in his body disappeared.

It was..almost pleasant. The sight of you hugging him from behind, pressing your face against his back, was strangely harmless, which generated an incomprehensible warmth in him.

As soon as he opened his mouth to ask what you wanted, you turned around and instantly left the room, humming something cheerful unfamiliar to him, with a smile, as if nothing had happened just now.

Dark Cacao Cookie wanted to stop you so that, perhaps, the feeling of warmth would not disappear, but he restrained himself. There's no need. You probably have things to do. Although he must admit that it was an extremely unexpected gesture on your part..

He had seen you before, with a seemingly eternally warm and friendly smile, hugging his other subjects, but feeling your hands on himself was a completely different feeling.

The king shook his head to collect his thoughts. Sometimes you can be so absent-minded...

But let this little gesture of yours be..discouraging, he still has work to do.

Dark Cacao Cookie had just turned around to return to the documents on the table when he noticed a mug of cocoa standing aside from the papers. Steam was still coming from the hot drink, and he himself looked untouched.

If only you knew what you was doing to him...

------------

As soon as the sun touches your face, you jump out of bed and get ready. What else can you do? Fasting does not wait, it's time to serve the motherland!

However, while you were running around the room putting on warm clothes outside, a small but in your case damn strange detail caught your attention.

On the small table next to the bed was a tray with several sweets and a mug of cocoa, and in the corner was an envelope addressed to you, and the realization of who wrote it to you stuns you.

Well..It seems the king took your hugs a little differently than planned.

..:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟﾞ｡.:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟ🌤

🌤️ — if I'd get a coin every time when I chose to write oneshot instead of hcs for Dark Cacao, I'll have only 2 coins, what isn't much, but it's weird that it happened twice.

🌤️ — well, hope you like it, have a good day ☕

[blackenedsnow]

thin as air

WARNING: Mentions of anorexia and body dysmorphia, violence, injury, unhealthy relationships, dark themes, rough handling, unhealthy attachment.

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Anorexic! Reader

NOTE: Hey, just sharing this because i know a lot of us are going through it too. It’s very scary. I’m in a rough spot myself so i wanted to write something that might feel like a weird kind of comfort, even if it’s dark and messy. Remember, it’s fiction; take care of yourself. Love you all, take what you need <3 (Also this is in first person.)

SUMMARY: Art’s affection is all-consuming, and you don’t quite understand why you’re the object of his twisted love. There is NOTHING sexual even if it may sound like it!!

Sometimes, I wonder if Art even knows what I am – this mess of bones, thin skin, hollow eyes. I see the way he looks at me, with that dead, unwavering gaze of his. The way his black-rimmed eyes flicker over my body, taking in every protruding rib, every visible vein. It’s like he’s fascinated by me, by this shell of a person I’ve become.

And honestly? I’m just as fascinated by him.

I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know why it happened. I don’t even know if Art knows why he’s here with me, this painted monster, this creature who has taken me as his own. He’s rough, always has been – he’s broken one of my bones before. My wrist, I think it was, his grip too tight in one of his fits of… whatever it is he feels. Love, rage, lust? I don’t know. I don’t think Art knows either. But he’s always there, his hands wandering over me like he can’t get enough, even as he’s hurting me.

It’s like he’s drawn to my fragility.

I guess that’s the irony. I’m so close to death already, bones so thin you could snap them with a careless touch, a body starved down to the barest scraps. Sometimes I think that’s what he’s here for – to watch me die slowly, to revel in the sight of me wasting away. I wonder if that’s the appeal, the reason he never leaves.

But then he’ll reach out, his hand cupping my cheek with a gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of. And I realize – no. That’s not it at all. He’s here because he loves me. Art loves me.

It doesn’t make sense. But it doesn’t have to. Not to him, not to me.

I think he likes the sharp edges of my bones, the way my body feels fragile beneath his hands. There’s something about the way he touches me, careful sometimes, rough others, like he’s afraid I’ll break if he’s not careful – but sometimes he forgets. Sometimes he’ll grip me too tight, his fingers pressing into my skin with enough force to leave bruises, marks that will linger for days.

Once, when he’d been particularly careless, I felt something crack beneath his fingers. The pain had been sharp, sudden, and I’d cried out, my voice weak, but he’d just stared, his head tilting to the side as if he were studying a work of art. And maybe, to him, I am. A fragile, breakable thing, something he can hold in his hands and twist, bend to his will.

But he’d stopped then, his hands falling away, his eyes wide with something like surprise. He hadn’t meant to hurt me.

The thing is, I love him too. Maybe that’s the sickest part of it all, the fact that I look at him, at this monster who kills without remorse, who breaks me without meaning to, and I feel something like warmth in my chest. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I feel this way, why I keep letting him touch me, hold me, break me.

Maybe it’s because he sees me. In his own strange way, Art sees me. He sees the parts of me that I try to hide, the emptiness that gnaws at me from the inside, the hunger that never seems to go away. He sees the hollowness in my eyes, the way I wither away piece by piece, and he doesn’t turn away. He doesn’t tell me to stop, doesn’t tell me I need to eat, to get better.

He just… stays.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. But in a way, it’s comforting. Because in his silence, in his wordless presence, I find a strange sense of belonging. I find a twisted kind of love, the kind that doesn’t judge, that doesn’t demand anything of me except to exist. To be here, with him, in whatever form I am.

And maybe that’s enough.

Sometimes, when he’s lying beside me, his hand resting on my hip, his touch feather-light as if he’s afraid to press down too hard, I’ll close my eyes and pretend that he’s human. That he’s just a man, lying beside me, his warmth seeping into my skin. But then I’ll feel his fingers tighten, his grip growing possessive, and I’m reminded of what he is – a killer, a creature who takes lives without a second thought.

But he doesn’t take mine.

No matter how close I get, no matter how many times I think this is it, that I’ll finally slip away, he’s always there. Sometimes I wonder if he’d let me die if I truly wanted to, if he’d just sit back and watch as I faded into nothing. But I think he’d fight for me. I think he’d drag me back, kicking and screaming, because he loves me.

I feel his hands on me again, his touch rough and insistent, and I can feel the bruises blooming beneath his fingers, but I don’t mind. I welcome the pain, the reminder that I’m still here, still alive. And in that moment, with his body pressed against mine, I don’t feel empty. I feel full, filled with something dark and consuming, something that threatens to swallow me whole.

And maybe that’s the real reason he’s here – not to watch me die, but to keep me alive.

The days blend together when he’s gone. Time’s got this funny way of stretching and folding over on itself in his absence, like the hours are conspiring to keep me waiting. I lose track of them – they bleed together in a mess of dark corners and quiet. Every so often, I glance over at the door, waiting for him to appear in that grimy frame, caked in blood and staring with that quiet, maddening intensity. But every time, there’s just silence. And the longer he’s gone, the more I start to wonder if maybe this is it.

If maybe, he’s not coming back.

I tell myself that’s probably a good thing. That maybe he’s off killing for good this time, slipping into someone else’s nightmare. And yet, there’s this ache that gnaws at me, dull and hollow, a feeling like missing something I never thought I’d have. Because even as he breaks me, even as he holds me with a grip that threatens to splinter bone, Art feels like the only real thing in my life. The only solid, terrifying constant.

So when the door finally creaks open, it feels like time itself stops – or maybe, like it finally begins to move again.

He steps inside, dragging a heavy, metallic scent of blood with him, his face painted in his usual grin but with something else lurking beneath. Something dark, simmering – anger. But it’s not at me; I know that look. And on his head, absurdly, he’s wearing a Santa hat, the red fluff soaked a deep maroon where it caught a spatter of blood.

I almost laugh. He looks unhinged and festive all at once, as if he’s ripped the hat off some poor soul in the middle of one of his routines. Art stands there, his eyes narrowing as they settle on me, like he’s deciding something. But even angry, even with whatever it is simmering beneath the surface, I know he wouldn’t hurt me. Not on purpose.

He prowls toward me, closing the distance in a way that has my heart stumbling over itself, and I’m caught between fear and comfort. I sit up, my mouth dry as I watch him approach, swallowing hard against the question that’s been burning in me since he left.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d come back.” My voice cracks, barely more than a whisper.

He stops, staring down at me, his mouth stretching wider into that unsettling smile. Art doesn’t talk, but his eyes – there’s something fierce and sharp in them, a promise I can feel. He tilts his head, raising one finger, wagging it back and forth like he’s scolding me for even thinking it. Like the very idea of him leaving for good is ridiculous.

And maybe it is. Maybe Art’s always going to come back, no matter how many people he kills or how far he roams.

I’m still staring at that absurd hat, unable to help myself. “…Did you kill Santa?”

He gives a low, soundless laugh, his shoulders shaking as he reaches up and tips the hat toward me, his face stretching wider in a mockery of something playful. It’s disturbing and almost sweet all at once, like a monster trying to be human. He’s close now, and I can feel the roughness of his gloved hand as he brushes it over my cheek, trailing down to the sharp line of my jaw. His touch is careful, just enough pressure to remind me he’s here – and that I’m his.

“What?” I say, my voice shaky but edged with a faint smile. “You bring me a Christmas hat instead of a present?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he lifts his hand, holding it up as if to say ‘wait.’ Then he reaches behind him, pulling something from the garbage bag he always carries around. It’s a small, battered box, dented and stained but unmistakably a gift.

I look at him, surprised, and he just grins wider, holding it out. My hands shake as I take it, heart pounding as I pry the lid open. Inside is… a ring. Old and tarnished, probably pried off a victim. But it’s beautiful.

He watches as I slide it on, something warm flickering in his eyes – if anything warm could ever live in those black pits. There’s no need for words. His gaze says it all, a silent declaration that I’m his and he’s mine, even if it makes no sense, even if it’s a nightmare stitched together by blood and broken bones.

The absurdity of it hits me, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in ages. “Guess this makes it official, huh?”

Art raises one hand in a mock toast, his grin impossibly wide, and for a second, the air between us feels almost… normal. Like we’re two people who understand each other in a way no one else could.

[loving-daisy]

You Had Me At Hello | Severus Snape x Reader

Young Severus Snape never knew what love was. That was until he met her, his Valentine.

YHMAH Masterlist • loving-daisy masterlist

—————————————

Chapter 6: Parchment, Ink, and Old Textbooks

Word count: 2,643

“Valentine!” A masculine voice called out. 

Turning around, Y/N instantly rolled her eyes at the sight of messy curls resting on top of the boy’s head.

“Black.” She muttered, crossing her arms as she raised a brow at him. 

“So...today is the start of February.”

Valentine gave a single nod. “Okay. And?” 

“What better way to spend Valentine’s day with Slytherin’s own Valentine? What do you say, Valentine? Be my Valentine?” 

The Slytherin snorted. “What makes you think I want to spend Valentine’s day with you?” 

The nerve of this boy. As if he didn’t mess with Severus together with bloody James Potter! 

The Gryffindor smirked. “Because I’m Sirius Black?” 

The girl couldn’t help but feign a laugh as she shakes her head in disbelief. “No way.” She answered. 

“My answer is no. Go find some other girl to bother because Valentine or not, whatever day it is in the year, I’d rather spend it with somebody else!” 

“Fine!” Sirius barked, instantly losing his composure. “Go spend a day with Snivellus then!” 

“His name is Severus!” Valentine bellowed, equally as angry as Black. “And believe me, I’d rather spend all of my days with him than you git!” She raged before finally walking away from the Gryffindor. 

A few steps away from where she stood with Sirius Black, as she turned to the corner of the hall, her rage was immediately washed away as the sight of her best friend came into view. 

Before the girl was able to open her mouth to greet the tall boy, Severus beat her to it. “Why were you talking with Black?” He demanded, his voice a mixture of annoyance and disappointment. 

Truthfully, Severus' mood was good today. He just aced his Divination exam even if the subject was nonsense and all pretend. Turns out, Severus was convincing when he had a monotone voice. Or maybe the professor just got intimidated by him. Nevertheless, he was glad he was out of the class. He wanted nothing more than to spend the end of the day with Y/N at the library, seeing as their friends didn’t want to study today. 

But not everything lasts, they say.

This includes the boy’s mood.

He just had to see Y/N Valentine laughing with Sirius Black at the halls. If it was somebody else, he would’ve confirmed that a green monster was consuming his insides. But it was Sirius Black, one of his bullies. Sirius Black who he really wasn’t fond of. 

The girl sent him a sheepish smile. “Hello to you too, Severus. How was your day?” Valentine greeted, slightly confused as to why the boy in front of her was in a foul mood. Probably sick of Divination. She thought. 

Severus continued to give her a blank stare, waiting for the girl to answer his question.

Y/N rolled her eyes, sighing as she slumped her shoulders “He asked me out.” She mumbled before grabbing the boy’s hand to pull him towards the hall to finally make their way to the library. 

If it wasn’t for the current topic they were having, Severus would have had his heart racing. In this case, it was, but not because his best friend was holding his hand. Rather, due to the anticipation on what the response of the girl was to Black’s advances. 

“What?!” He exclaimed. 

The girl rolled her eyes once again. Giving the boy a shrug but not letting the boy’s hand go. “Yup.” was all Y/N said. Not really satisfying the boy with her answer. 

“Well? What did you say?!” Severus demanded, losing his patience. 

Valentine finally released Severus’ hand, stopping in her tracks as she turned to face him.

“Why are you so surprised? Do you think I’m not pretty enough to be asked out by Sirius Black?” She suggested, feeling deflated at her own assumptions. 

Severus shook his head. “I’m not surprised!” He denied. 

”I’m just worried! You know how Black has been jumping from girl to girl just to end up breaking their hearts after he had his fun. You deserve better than him, Y/N. I’m just worried because what if-” 

“Severus.” Valentine called, trying to stop his rambling. 

“What if he plays with you like what he did with those girls and-”

“Okay, okay Severus! Please calm down!” She pleaded, grabbing the boy’s shoulders. 

For a moment, Severus paused, eyes getting soft as his black orbs met Y/N’s. “I’m not gonna allow you to be used and discarded like that-”

“I said no.” The girl cut him off, a small smile of amusement displayed on her face. 

Severus finally felt that he could breathe. It was as if the weight on his shoulders had been lifted, his mood turning a bit lighter. 

“Good.” He managed to utter out. 

Jealous boy

Severus heard, still staring into the girl’s eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows at her thought. 

I’m not jealous! I was worried! That’s different.

Valentine couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s gonna be awkward for us if I suddenly date your bully, don’t you think?” She mused, raising a suggestive brow, her hands still placed on the boy’s shoulders. 

Severus hummed. 

The boy finally felt fully at ease. Well, that is until the girl decided to say another word. 

“Besides, I have my eyes on someone else.” Valentine announced, hands finally dropping to her sides together with Severus’ heart falling into his stomach. 

“Who?” He asked. 

The girl gave him a sly smile. “That’s my secret to keep.” She said, earning a groan from the boy. 

“I thought I was your friend…” mumbled Severus.

“You are my friend! You’re my best friend!” Y/N exclaimed. 

“Then why don’t you tell me who?” Severus challenged, getting frustrated. ”Is it another one of James’ lot? Or is it James? Y/N-” 

“Relax! It’s not James or any of his friends. It’s someone else.” The girl assured him. 

“Then who?” 

“I told you, it’s a secret.” 

A frown was displayed on the boy’s face. “Do you not trust me with your secrets? It’s not like I have any other friends that I would tell it to.” 

“You’re such a drama queen!” The girl exclaimed. “But trust me on this one, okay? I promise you, he’s nice. You’ll like him.” 

That’s likely. Severus thought, rolling his eyes. 

_______________

Severus Snape had hoped that no other pathetic boy would attempt to ask Valentine to be their Valentine. 

For a moment, the boy just had a crazy idea of spending Valentine’s day with the girl instead. Platonically, of course. 

But alas, luck wasn’t on Severus Snape’s side today as Rosier, a housemate of theirs, cornered him. 

“Severus Snape, is it?” 

Severus nodded.

“You and Valentine are just friends, correct?” 

Severus nodded again. This time, slowly. 

“I mean, of course. As if you’d make a pair.” 

Severus rolled his eyes at the boy, unamused but slightly hurt at the jab. 

“But anyways, I have a favor to ask you.” 

Severus groaned internally. 

_______________

“I think I left something in Sluggy’s classroom. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Valentine.” Severus murmured, quickly turning his heels away from the path he and Y/N were taking. 

The girl stopped in her tracks, head whipping to call out the retrieving boy. “Tomorrow? No, I’ll come with you!” 

“Valentine.” A deep voice called.

Turning to face the source, there he was Rosier, standing in front of her with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. 

Valentine scrunched her nose at the sight.

She never liked flowers.

She was allergic. 

“Rosier.” She greeted, quickly covering her lower face with the palm of her hand. 

_______________

The day Severus dreaded the most came. It was inevitable.

Truthfully, if Valentine’s day weren’t a school day, he would have spent the whole day locked up in his room, probably reading a book or creating a new spell or brewing a potion. 

He would have done anything else instead to walk down the halls of Hogwarts. He would have done anything to avoid the sight of mushy couples shoving their faces against each other or the sight of girls fawning over some good-looking but stupid boy or maybe even the sight of boys eating the chocolate that they bought for the girl that they liked but got rejected. 

It’s not like he hated the day, he just didn’t like what he saw during the day. Severus really didn’t care whether or not he had someone to spend Valentine’s day with. The day was a social construct afterall. 

But to his dismay, it was a school day. On the bright side, it was the day where he had potions with Slughorn. Severus was really fond of his partner in that class.

When he arrived at their usual table, Severus was a bit confused as to why the girl who had the same name with today’s date wasn’t around yet. The girl had a free period prior to this class. She’d usually be here before Severus. 

Moving his eyes towards the front of the class to get an idea on what potion they were going to brew today, his eyes unintentionally landed on two familiar Gryffindors instead. 

Oh how the time flies.

Just a while back, the ginger would’ve looked like she wanted to slap the arrogance away from the boy but now she was looking at him as if the boy single handedly placed all the stars in the sky! 

Severus couldn’t help but feel bitter with his sudden realization. All this time, he was just a bridge to their love story.

How pathetic. 

It has been months ever since the girl discarded her friendship with Severus Snape but that didn’t mean the boy discarded his feelings for her. Severus thought he loved her - That’s also the reason why he dreaded today's brew for potions class. 

Amortentia, also known as the love potion that makes one have strong faux feelings for the person who they first see if consumed. But aside from that, it was the potion that somehow tells you what or who you’re attracted to.

Severus wanted to cover his nose once everyone started to brew their potions. 

The Slytherin’s train of thought got cut short when a voice came booming from his behind. 

“Where’s your Valentine, Mr. Snape?” asked Slytherin’s head of the house, Horace Slughorn, wearing a cheeky expression. 

Severus didn’t know what to feel after the question left the potions master’s mouth. He didn’t know if he was playing with him. Was sluggy making fun of him because he had no special someone to spend this day with or did he misheard and the professor was actually pertaining to Valentine? 

“I don’t-”

Before he was able to answer, his partner rushed into the classroom, taking her place beside him. 

“Severus’ Valentine is here! Y/N Valentine!” She announced, catching the attention of the potions master. “Sorry I’m late, Professor. The hallway has been crowded!” She explained.

“Ooh children and their little puppy love.” Slughorn gushed, a look of amusement displayed on his face. Severus had to internally roll his eyes. 

The professor looked at the both of them, sending them a sly smile. “Well, Happy Valentine’s Day, Ms. Valentine! You too, Mr. Snape.” He uttered, finally leaving the two alone. 

Valentine let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding, turning to face Severus who in turn, only raised a brow towards her way. 

“Where have you been?” He complained, annoyance all over his voice. 

The girl only grinned at him, uttering “Hello to you too, Severus.” Shaking her head before adding “Got caught up in the hall.” 

Severus didn’t need to ask any more details after catching a glimpse of the girl shoving a variety of sugar quills inside her pocket robes. Internally, he let out a scoff. She’s more fond of chocolate frogs. Dark chocolate flavored ones, to be exact. 

“We’re brewing Amortentia today.” He mumbled as he shook his head, earning a snort from the girl. 

“Typical of Sluggy. But nothing we can’t handle right? You are the best in potions afterall.” Valentine complimented, patting his shoulder. Severus only scowled. 

“Why the sour mood, Sev?” She mused. 

The boy shook his head once again, turning his attention to his book. “It seems like James and Lily are together now.” He mumbled, feeling even more sour after pointing it out. 

Valentine let out a small “Oh.”, feeling dejected after the indirect revelation that her friend still fancied the ginger. 

Pushing her emotions to the back, she forced out a smile, bumping her shoulders with the boy to cheer him up. “If it helps, the boy I have a crush on, likes somebody else too.” She chuckled, making Severus face her. 

“You still didn’t tell me who it was.” He agonized, feigning a frown but putting on a small smile afterwards. 

The girl grinned. “Any plans for tonight, Sev?” 

Severus nodded. “Yeah.”

Valentine raised a brow in wonder. “Really? What?” 

Wallow in self pity. “Read.” He murmured, earning a groan from the girl. “On a fine day like this?!” 

“It’s not like I have someone to spend Valentines with.” He explained, earning another groan from the girl. 

“Then what am I here for? You heard sluggy. I’m your Valentine.” She quipped, poking the boy’s side making him move away.

“Don’t you have a date with Rosier?” Severus challenged, eyes squinting. 

The girl felt frozen on the spot. “Wait, how did you know he asked me out?” 

Severus sneered. 

“You read my mind didn’t you?” Valentine accused.

The boy sighed, letting his guard down as his eyes pierced the girl’s soft ones. No. I helped him ask you out.

The girl let out a snort after she heard what's on the boy’s mind. “As if I’d go out with Rosier. He brought me flowers...It was like he was trying to kill me with my own allergies” She murmured, finally moving away from their table to grab the ingredients they needed. 

Potions class went on with boys and girls from different houses waiting in anticipation. Most of them were excited. Specifically, couples wanted to know if their partner smelled them to confirm if their love was true. Some males wanted to find out if the girl they were crushing on smelled their own fragrance. Some females just wanted to be there to know how to brew the potion, in case they needed it. 

As expected from the number 1 and number 2 best students in potions, they were the first to finish the brew. Slughorn wasn’t surprised at all, in fact he became even more impressed with the two, having brewed a difficult potion. So, because of their achievement, Valentine and Snape got exempted on the next assignment - to write an essay about what you smelled from the Amortentia. He urged the two to smell it either way. 

Making sure Valentine was using her occlumency skills, she placed her face in front of the cauldron, inhaling the potion’s smoke. 

Parchment, Ink, and old textbooks 

The boy raised a brow in anticipation. He was expecting for the girl to voice out the things that she smelled. 

Unfortunately for him, Valentine only sent him a small smile, shaking her head. 

Severus decided to drop the topic and respect the girl’s privacy. He did want to know who the girl fancied but she never told him. He just assumed that she’ll tell him eventually, once she’s ready. 

Placing his face in front of the cauldron, Severus really dreaded what would happen next. He really didn’t want to be reminded of the scent the ginger had when she was around. It would just remind him of what they used to be. 

But when he inhaled, Severus couldn’t believe what scent filled his nostrils.

Oh, was he glad to be exempted from that new assignment.

End of Chapter 6

[stargirlrchive]

TOLERATE IT

older!ghost x reader — i realized after i finished, i did not mention simon’s name once, but this was written w him in mind lmaooo

cw: angst, no comfort, break up? ish, friends w benefits and complicated feelings, simon self-sabotaging, im in such an angsty mood! edit: this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month and i don’t know if i like it

your nails dug into your palms as your eyes filled with tears. you were drowning, he was drowning you. you had known it for a long time now. this, whatever it was, wasn’t working. not anymore.

not when you had bled yourself dry, spread yourself too thin for him, just to receive nothing in return. worst of all is he had told you so from the very beginning. but some naive, stupid, part of you thought that would change. that he’d change for you.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

“what did you except?”

his voice was ice cold, indifferent and… bored. as if you pouring your heart out to him mere seconds ago meant nothing.

you realized then that you had been terribly wrong. mistaken the way he held you, and kissed you, as something more. “i just figured-”

his eyes blazed with frustration, “figured what, hm? that i’d eventually soften up? grow to love you?”

yes.

“i don’t know. would that be so difficult?”

“yes.”

your face twitched, unable to mask how deeply that hurt. your throat tightened with regret. regret of ever tangling yourself with him, regret with voicing your feelings.

“you knew what i wanted from this arrangement. you had agreed. we were on the same page.”

the regret and melancholy that had ebbed and festered in your heart turned to anger. blinding, burning rage.

“i had told you, made it so very clear that nothing long term would come from this. i can’t give you that.”

that rage was threatening to consume you.

your voice shook with anger, but the look on his face took the crack in your voice as one of sadness, weakness, “you won’t give me that. it’s not that you can’t.”

he said nothing, because you both knew it was true. “look, kid-”

“don’t-” your voice rasped, “don’t call me that.”

his fingers clenched in frustration, breathing through his nose as he tried to collect himself. he had never heard your voice grow that cold. not towards him and it made his bones ache.

“it’s nothing personal. i’m just not want you’re lookin’ for. not for something constant, and if things were different, if i was a different person then maybe. but im not.”

your eyes burned, a few stray tears falling but you were quick to wipe them away. yes, you had come to an agreement prior to this. but things had changed, the way he looked at you, and held you.

the whispered words in between your tangled limbs had proven that. he lingering touches and soft eyes.

he must’ve been one hell of a liar if he didn’t mean any of that.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

“i don’t believe you.”

you sniffed softly, looking at him and you were sure the devastation was clear in your eyes. “because if everything that passed between us, if you were able to fake that. you’re a monster.”

“you knew what this was when we started.”

you missed the way his fingers dug into the armrest of the couch. shaking your head as you stood up. “get out.”

he felt the chill of your words wash over him, and the part inside him that yearned for you, desperately begged him to speak up. to tell you that this was all some big misunderstanding.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

what he was doing was stupid. but it was for the best.

you deserved better, and he’d never be able to give that to you.

yes you would.

he forced the voice back, swallowing roughly before standing up. grabbing his things as he watched you try not to fall apart before him.

the words of ‘i’m sorry,’ heavy on his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

his footsteps heavy as he left your apartment. his heart aching the further he walked away and it comforted him a bit to know you’d never forgive him again.

there would be no hope, no one to hurt or disappoint and he could live with that. knowing that he let you go before you could begin to hate him.

[dunmeshistash]

Is it known what the limits on the demon's power are? Like sometimes I think it's only keeping its word/deal just to gain trust or even 'cuz it's funny. It lies about how much agency it has. Can it take away something wished for? If a wish is deeply held enough does it have no choice but to grant it? Can it only eat the desires of demon lords, or is everyone at risk? How was it imprisoned in dungeons (a carelessly granted wish?)?

Not that many "hard facts" about the demon are known, we get a few explanations about how it works until we get it from the source but he's not really the most reliable narrator nor does he go into much detail.

From the way he acts I do think he really can only act while granting wishes tho, or else he wouldn't have played along for so long before escaping nor needed to manipulate Laios into giving him his body. (chapter 90)

I think he works in a similar way to a genie that grants wishes but distorts them into awful things? But instead of twisting your wishes into a punishment he twists it into something that would benefit him, or maybe some of the distortion is just because he doesn't really understands humans. He needs someone that would wish for what he needs in the first place tho, like Laios was special because he *would* wish to give up his human form and Marcille was special because she *would* wish to break into the surface and have it all be under the demon's influence.

I don't think he can just take away a wish he has granted either. Even when the wish is the complete opposite of what he wants he still needs to grant it, like when a dungeon lord wished to destroy everything inside the dungeon. It was clearly something the demon didn't want but he had to grant it. (chapter 86)

Now if he can only grant the wishes of dungeon lords I believe is a limitation from when dungeons were created in the first place, perhaps so he would only grant the wishes of one person? And it seems like granting them wishes allows him to consume them? Or maybe it makes them tastier.

If he could do it to the other people inside the dungeon he would have just eaten everyone's desire to resist but once he escaped the dungeon his powers seemed to have no longer been restricted. (From the Demon Monster tidbits, chapter 87 and 90)

How they imprisoned him is never specified but he was always granting wishes so it might have been one, unclear if he could have denied the wish even if he noticed what it would mean.

[ancha-aus]

DoubleNoot AU Drabble - Bright Morning

Welcome back to another installment! this time we see the start of a new day with our lovely family who suddenly aqcuired a child and will have to figure out how to take care of him. Now wiht a slightly less confused Nightmare.

Last Time on DoubleNoot Adventures! Corrupt spend a while thinking about what the new situations is as Nightmare slept peacefulyl next to him. His mates joined Corrupt before he could spiral.

*----------------------------------------------*

Nightmare hums sleepily. He is slightly confused. The ground is never this soft and he doesn't feel that branch poke him in the ribs. He also can't feel his mother or brother near but... he isn't alone.

Being alone means danger as that is when the villagers come to hurt him. To hurt him and punish him for everything that goes wrong in their lives. Nightmare is still not sure how he could have caused some of them to get sick or even die. But the villagers always say it is his fault so maybe it is?

But he isn't alone.

It is warm and comfortable and he hears others breathing nearby as he snuggles into whatever he is laying against. It is warm and just feels familiar.

He would love to keep sleeping for longer but he needs to wake up. He has the tree to protect and if Dream is already out it is a matter of time before they come.

He yawns as he rubs his sockets. He takes his time to stretch along the soft thing circling him. Before trying to sit up.

Keyword. Try.

Because he just.. can't get his limps do push himself up. He can't figure out how to make everything work and move... huh?

He opens his sockets and pauses. That... that is a ceiling? He never sleeps inside though? why is there a ceiling?

Nightmare looks around and spots the dark tentacle around him. Sees where it is lit up such a pretty cyan where he is touching it.

and he remembers.

remembers all about well... yesterday aparently.

Nightmare turns his skull to the other side and spots Corrupt. sound asleep and his tentacles all around. One is circling himself but the other three are all connected to those skeletons that Nightmare met the day before.

Right... Corrupt loved them a lot. Nightmare had held the adoration they all shared between one another. It was so deep and all consuming that Nightmare couldn't help but stare and watch the skeletons. How could monsters feel such strong emotions the whole time and just feel okay?

Nightmare shoots Corrupt another look and tilts his skull. Nightmare isn't sure why he trusts the other so much. He just. He could feel the honesty. the care. How could Nightmare not believe that honesty?

It makes it even stranger that Dream dislikes Corrupt so much. Drema should have felt the same right? felt that corrupt was honest and meant everything? that corrupt loved deeply? that... that when corrupt spoke about hurting Nightmare he only felt grief, regret and sad?

why would Dream not see that? He always saw the best in those villagers.

...

Seems like Dream can excuse the actual people hurting and killing him but someone stepping in to continue his duty is a step too far...

Nightmare's soul hurts with that thought but before he can even consider what to do the tentacle wraps tighter around him and Corrupt mutters unhappily as he pulls him closer.

He is embraced by all that love and care all over again and Nightmare guiltily leans fully into the hold. Trying to soak everything up. Even if it isn't meant for him.

Them inviting him to stay had been a shock. and Now that Nightmare had time to really think about it since just ending up on their couch. He is so lucky they are willing to let him stay. Especially as people tend to hate him.

He had tried so ahrd to be friendly and be right and normal. But it is so hard. Becuase Corrupt would just read him and help him feel easy and then Nightmare starts to pay attention to how Corrupt feels and it just... is nice. So nice and safe.

The other skeletons are... weird but nice he thinks. They are so different than the people he is used to.

Nightmare hears a yawn and stays frozen. That is the one with black tears. He is sitting up and yawning? BUt Ngihtmare thought this was Corrupt's room and-

Oh. Of course. they are like. together together. Wait are they married? Nightmare knows the villagers did a marriage thing but did corrupt marriage these four? wait can that many people marry one another?

Ngihtmare wishes Dream was here. Dream knew these type of things but well... Dream doesn't like Corrupt of the other skeletons aparently-

"oh shit- I mean hi."

Nightmare blinsk and looks up to see the one wiht black tears staring at him. Seemingly frozen met stretch as he stares at him.

Nightmare leans further intot he tentacle "... hi... Killer?" right?

Maybe Killer blinks before smilign brightly and laying back down. He pulls a pillow over and lays on it with his skull and they can just see each other over the edge "that is me." he grins "How was your first night here tiny nightlight?"

Nightmare searches for the right words. He can't jsut say this is the best sleep he has had for a long time. That he feels warm and nice and comfortable. That is weird... He only just got here. Nightmare realises he has been quiet for way to long and mutters a quick answer "It was nice."

Killer grins and nods "Yeah I know. Moon's bed is so comfy and nice." he sighs happily.

Nightmare frowns "Why do you call him that?" Corrupt's name is corrupt right? wait "why do you keep calling me nightlight. I am nightmare." he waits for him to talk about how his name is wrong or a bad omen or-

Killer snorts "yeah i know. but that is why nicknames are for little moondrop." he grins "I give nicknames to everyone. same for big guy."

Nightmare blinks but shoots the giant with the cracked skull a look. Horror right?

Killer grins and nods.

Ngihtmare looks away embarrassed. How did he notice his glance? Was he that obvious- no wait. didn't Corrupt say that they were all very observant? oh no they will realise something is wrong with him even quicker! What does he do?!

The tentacle tightens around him again as Killer makes soft hushing noises "ssh shsh it is okay. i know it is still strange. Everything is new and scary and we are a lot." he smiles "But you are you like Moon is moon. it will be okay."

Nightmare turns a bit clsoer to the tendril. feeling safe with a cyan light shining from it. he traces a few of the swirls and feels a bit better. They are connected. their magic works together. so even if he is weird they will accept him right? because the love Corrupt so much, and nightmare is connected to Corrupt in some way.

Or would they end up hating him because they fear he took power from him?

Killer sighs "Corrupt's magic is always so fucking pretty. Oh shit don't tell the others I cursed near you."

Ngihtmare shoots him a look and looks at the cyan himself "It is very pretty..." he likes cyan. It is a nice colour. Not like his ugly purple. Everyone agreed his magic was pale and seemed darker. Not shining like his brother had had. Dream had the most beautiful magic and Nightmare always wished his own had been more like Dream's.

Killer nods "It is gorgeous. The blue is so pretty and it is always atreat when he see it." he grins at him "Do you also have cyan?"

Nightmare freezes and shakes his skull. He doens't. No use to lie.

Killer looks excited "oh which colour is it?"

Ngihtamre shrugs before he mutters "it isn't pretty like Corrupt's." there. That should do it right? No need to pay attention to it. Maybe this way he doens't ever have to show it and can jsut enjoy the bright shine he helps bring out in Corrupt's magic!

Killer jsut looks excited "Oh i am sure it is pretty. like all magic is pretty." he grins.

Ngihtmare shurgs as he just lays further against Corrupt. feeling safe there. He is safe there. Corrupt promised he would be safe.

Kilelr frowns at him and Nightmare immediantly looks away. Oh no. Did... did he make a mistake by dodging the question? did he mess up? did... did refusing make him angry?

"hi." Ngihtmare can't help but flinch before feeling bad about doing that. Killer is speaking softly as he looks at him "it is okay... I am sorry if i pushed... my mates often tell me I can get too excited and I am not the best at noticing boundaries." he grins and winks with his tongue sticking out "you can just tell me to shut up or leave you alone okay? I get it. No hard feelings."

Ngihtmare jsut stares at the other. partly shock and partly disbelieve. really? he won't get mad if nightmare says no? or tells him to leave? Nightmare finds that hard to believe.

Suddenly a hand appears and tugs Killer's blanket over his skull. Killer yelps as Dust sits up wiht a yawn and annoyed look "You woke me Killer." and he pushes him over. He glances at Nightmare before frowning at Killer "And give him some space. he is still new."

Killer pouts at Dust "I am great to new people."

Dust looks unamused "I was new once. I disagree."

Ngihtmare watches them interact. They are talking and killer pouts and dust looks annoyed but neither actually feel sad or mad. Just. familiarity. This is normal? they always do this?

Dust looks at Ngihtmare "How did you sleep?"

Ngihtmare shrugs and mutters "it was nice." this answer worked last time.

Dust yawns "That is good. We thought maybe sleeping somewhere new woudl make it hard for you to rest."

see? it is weird he would have been relaxed and felt safe. it is good he just said nice and-

"We hoped of course you would sleep well. But new places can awlays be a bit rough." Dust stretches and scoots to the side of the bed only to pause. he glances down and ngihtmare checks as well. it is a tentacle wrapped around him.

Dust hums "Seems like it is nap time." and he just lays back and clsoes his sockets again.

Nightmare blinks as Killer snorts and hugs the other "sounds like a plan." and he gets comfortable. Neither actually fall asleep as they just start to have quiet conversations.

Ngihtmare goes back to leaning against Corrupt as he listens. something about a game they played and one of the cheating. then about some trip and later about chores.

It is nice. It is just background noise.

Corrupt stirs and hums as he opens his sockets.

Ngithmare watches as Corrupt spots him. Corrupt freezes for a moment with clear confusion before it changes to understanding and then-

nightmare feels hismelf relax. the warm look of before is back.

Maybe things will be oaky. The skeletons are nice and Corrupt still wants him around.

And if he is even half as safe as Corrupt promised than he will be more than happy to stay as long as Corrupt lets him.

*----------------------------------------------*

Next part.

[belit0]

Hcs for adult obito falling in love with a jinchuriki he was childhood friends with? Like they were isolated so they bonded and reader helped him with rin so when they both grew up he developed a crush on her

Sweet child

Obito and (Y/N) were always outsiders. He was the boy who tried so hard but never measured up, always falling behind Kakashi’s brilliance. She was the girl burdened with something the village feared, treated as a walking weapon rather than a child. Their loneliness became a thread that wove them together—two misfits finding solace in each other.

(Y/N) was there through all of Obito’s fumbling attempts to win Rin’s heart. She listened to him gush, encouraged him when he felt hopeless, and even gave him terrible advice that, somehow, he always followed. "Just give her flowers, Obito!" "I tried! She thanked me like a teacher rewarding a student!" Through it all, she never let him feel like a failure.

When the years passed and they grew apart, (Y/N) remained a lingering warmth in Obito’s memories, a piece of childhood that wasn’t tainted by war. When they reunited as adults, however—when he saw her again, not as a girl, but as a woman—something shifted. She was still the same, yet different. Familiar, yet stunning. And suddenly, the emotions he used to have for Rin felt like echoes of something that had never been meant to last.

At first, Obito refuses to acknowledge it. He has lost too much, done too much. He does not deserve love—not after everything. But (Y/N) doesn’t look at him like a monster. She never has. She sees him—not Tobi, not the leader of the Akatsuki, not the man carrying a thousand sins. Just Obito. And that terrifies him.

He thinks he’s subtle, but he isn’t. His gaze softens when he watches her speak. His hands hover protectively when she’s near, always ready to catch her even when she doesn’t need saving. When she laughs, something inside him unclenches, as if, just for a moment, the weight of everything isn’t suffocating.

He doesn’t flirt like a normal person. He teases, like when they were kids. "You still talk too much, (Y/N)." "And you still sulk like a kicked puppy." He messes with her, steals things from her hands just to make her chase him, calls her by embarrassing childhood nicknames—but there’s warmth in every jab, in every playful nudge.

Obito is a man who has convinced himself that love is a weakness, that attachment leads to suffering. But she is the exception. The one thing he can’t turn away from, the one person who makes him want to be human again. He doesn’t know how to handle it, doesn’t know how to love in a way that isn’t all-consuming. And so, he struggles—because to love her means to risk losing her, and he doesn’t think he can survive that.

Maybe it happens when she brushes snow from his hair without thinking, her fingers lingering for a second too long. Maybe it’s when she stitches up a wound he barely noticed, muttering about how reckless he is while her hands tremble. Or maybe it’s the way she says his name—his real name—so gently, as if it isn’t tied to blood and ruin.

Obito doesn’t just say I love you. No, not him. It slips out in pieces, in small, quiet ways. "Stay close to me." "You’re the only one I can stand to be around." "I don’t want you getting hurt." And when she calls him out on it, he grumbles, flushes, and maybe—just maybe—mumbles something about how she’s always been an annoying part of his life, so he might as well keep her around forever.

[maybe-im-dark]

Embracing the beast

A short piece based on this post https://www.tumblr.com/maybe-im-dark/761522294450487296?source=share, where i share my theory that Logan is stronger in D&W because he has embraced his inner animal, after having witnessed the death of the X-Men

-------------------------------------------------------------

The attic of the abandoned house was dark, the smell of dust and decay filling the stale air. Logan crouched in the corner, his breaths ragged and uneven. It was the only place he could find where he could be alone, where he could escape the world that had taken everything from him. The X-Men were gone, wiped out by forces they had never seen coming, and in the aftermath, after killing everyone that came across his path, Logan had fled, running until his legs threatened to give out, until he could no longer feel the weight of what he had lost.

Now, he sat huddled in the shadows, his mind replaying the last moments—the screams, the blood, the faces of his friends twisted in pain. His own hands were stained red, blood from enemies and allies alike, and he could still feel the warmth of it, still smell the iron tang of death clinging to his skin. It was too much, too overwhelming. Everything he had tried to bury, everything he had tried to control, came crashing down on him all at once.

Logan gripped his head, claws partially unsheathed, and let out a choked, guttural growl. He was tired—tired of fighting, tired of trying to be something he wasn’t. There was a monster inside him, always had been, and he had spent his entire life trying to cage it, trying to be a man instead of the beast they had made him. But now, with nothing left to lose, what was the point? What was the point of pretending?

He slammed his fists against the wooden floor, his claws digging in, tearing gouges into the rotting wood. “Enough,” he muttered to himself, his voice raw and strained. “Enough.”

Logan’s body shook as he let go of the fear, the guilt, the pain. He closed his eyes and surrendered, allowing himself to fall into the darkness that had always lurked beneath the surface. The process was excruciating, every nerve in his body catching fire as he let the animal inside him come to life. He fell forward, muscles seizing, his back arching painfully as he dug his claws deeper into the floor.

“Let it go,” he whispered through gritted teeth, his voice barely more than a growl. “Let it all go.”

He bit down hard on his lower lip, tasting blood as it seeped into his mouth, mixing with the saliva that dripped from his fangs. His eyes rolled back, and for a moment, everything was chaos. The beast roared within him, surging forward, threatening to consume him whole. It was like a tidal wave crashing down, but instead of drowning, he rose with it. He didn’t resist. Instead, he surrendered, letting it wash over him, through him, around him.

And then, something changed. The animal didn’t take him over—it didn’t reduce him to a mindless killer, as he had always feared. It merged with him, filling every crack, every broken piece, every scar he carried, until he was no longer just Logan, or just the beast, but something more. Something whole.

His breathing slowed, and the world came into sharper focus. He could hear everything—the creak of the house settling, the faint rustle of leaves outside, the distant hum of life miles away. His heart thumped steadily in his chest, and he felt… calm.

For the first time in years, there was no inner conflict, no voice in the back of his mind whispering that he was nothing but a weapon. There was just him. Complete.

Logan lay still for a moment, the world around him fading into the background as he adjusted to this new sensation, this sense of being. He could feel the power coursing through his veins, the primal energy that had always been there but had never felt so… right. When he finally opened his eyes, they glowed a bright, piercing yellow for a heartbeat, then faded back to their usual dark hue.

Slowly, he rose to all fours, feeling the raw strength in his limbs, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. He tilted his head back and let out a deep, rumbling roar that shook the rafters, a sound that spoke of pain, of rage, of a lifetime spent running from what he was.

But he wasn’t running anymore.

Logan stood there for a moment, feeling the vibrations of his own roar echoing through his chest, before a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile of joy or happiness. It was a smile of acceptance, of defiance, of power.

He needed to move, needed to feel the wind against his face, the ground beneath his feet. He needed to hunt. The world could burn for all he cared, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be the one to set it ablaze.

“Time to have some fun,” he muttered, his voice rough and low. With that, he slipped out of the attic

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 48

(Chapter 47)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Epilogue

Leaves and twigs crack under your feet, leaving trails and patterns on the snowy forest floor.

It’s night. Darkness interrupted by red, little sparks flying through the air. The stinging smell of smoke creeps into your nose. Remnants of the moonlight, far away, quietly shine through the branches of the trees, painting creepy shadows on the white canvas you’re walking on. The further you walk, the more those shadows dance on an orange tint, that starts to coat the snow, coming from a source, that you’ve set up not far away. Carefully, listening to the sounds of the forest, you walk back to that source.

A flame, a campfire. Right here, in the middle of the woods.

Step by step, you’re approaching that fire, holding wood in your arms to keep it burning. The sound of munching echoes in your ear, the sound of feasting, devouring.

It’s been years, since he liberated you. Unintentionally freed you from a miserable life in a miserable village.

Not knowing, what you were destined to become.

A destiny that no one foresaw.

Not even the King of Curses.

Coming closer, you can see the silhouette of your King, sitting on the very same tree he did a year ago.

When he waited night for night, waited for you to go back with him.

You start humming his melody, as your feet carry you back to the fireplace. The fireplace that made you fall in love with this monster, before you put the new wood down onto the ground.

And then, quietly, you turn to him, watching how he’s gnawing some meat off a bone, occasionally humming in satisfaction.

It’s been months, since you completed the ritual.

Since you’ve been killed and reborn and marked with a sign on the skin that covers your heart.

Months of being his and him being yours.

In the shrine you can now call home.

You look at him and smile softly to yourself, finding it cute how invested he is not to waste any meat that’s on that bone, although you have plenty left.

Sitting down on the log to the left of your King, you feel the warmth of his body on your skin and hear his gentle munching in your ear.

And you feel your love for him, still, despite putting you through all this. You lost your heart to him and, no matter what he did, you don’t want it back.

Ever again.

Asshole.

It’s been days since the both of you came back to this place.

A place you cherish in your heart.

And maybe, you hope, Sukuna cherishes it, too.

The crackling of the fire becomes louder and his noises quiet, making you both just sit there in silence, next to each other. He flicks the bare bone into the flames, before you gently lean against his shoulder, let your head quietly bump against him to be closer, feeling his calm breath beneath your soul.

And both of you just watch the fire in front of you, like you did so many times a year ago, when neither of you could express what’s going on.

Heartache.

It’s been seconds, since he let you know how he feels about you.

Although he never says them out loud, those three words that you’ve told him over and over again and still do.

But he doesn’t has to. Because, you know.

This curse.

So overwhelming, so consuming. Tying your souls together so tightly.

And some words don’t need to be spoken to be true.

Sukuna grabs another piece of meat and holds it under your nose. You cooked it yourself, with fresh herbs that you found earlier in the nearby bushes. It smells delicious. You lean back and sit straight again, before you grab the meat and take a bite.

It’s hot, warming you from the inside. You keep blowing and carefully gnawing and nibbling, until you finally can rip off a bigger piece. Feeling his bottom pair of eyes watching you constantly, you peek over to him quickly.

“What?” you ask with your mouth full, making him smirk, as he musters your stuffed cheeks and big eyes.

“Nothing.”

You pause your chewing, pondering.

“Is it how I eat?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

And he doesn’t respond, just keeps focusing on the fire, a hint of his smirk still decorating the corners of his mouth. The flames flicker in his red eyes, the orange light dances on his face and wrinkles. You can’t help to take them in, over and over again, although you already know his features so well, as if they’ve been imprinted on your eyelids.

So beautiful.

You smile to yourself, before you focus back on your meal, until you throw the remaining bone into the fire. Satisfied, you sigh, until you swallow the last bite you took.

Suddenly, something cold gently falls upon on your forehead and you look up. Delicate flakes of fresh snow are illuminated against the dark canvas of the night, falling down right upon you and Sukuna.

You smile softly, before you turn your head to look at him. He’s looking up into the sky, too and you witness, just in time, how a small flake lands on the tip of his nose, melting in an instant. You huff lovingly, before you gently touch that very spot with your finger. More flakes follow, landing on his mask, his eyebrows and lashes, before he opens his mouth, trying to bite your finger that’s resting on his nose.

Clack.

His teeth close around nothing and you quickly retrieve your hand to poke him into his shoulder instead.

Hard.

It makes his lip twitch, before he leans down to you, close to your face, cocking his eyebrow.

“Harder.” he whispers with a smirk, with this… undertone.

And you blush, remembering it’s what you moaned into his ear last night.

When you felt cold and the fire was not enough to warm your moving bodies.

When your skins and limbs and lips were intertwined, like those of lovers are.

When you kissed each other and hold each other dearly, when your hearts started to miss each other and their embrace.

“Are you sure?” you mumble, trying to keep composure. His gentle eyes roam over your face, scan how your delicate skin rushes full of extra heat.

And then he nods, almost unnoticeable, almost hypnotised, as his gaze falls down to your lips.

The string on your heart pulls you in, let your breaths collide and mingle, until they merge, as you start kissing him on his soft lips while feeling small, freezing flakes fall upon your faces. He quietly sighs against your face and keeps squeezing on your beating heart, before you gently lick and suck on his tongue and bottom lip.

“Okay.” you breathe against his pretty mouth, your breath and heartbeat quickened. “Wait here.”

His pupils are blown, already drowning in your being, before you stand up and walk into the snow.

You feel his needy eyes bore into your back, the string on your heart pulling harshly.

To make you walk back to him, to devour your flesh once again. Like last night, like lovers do.

But first, you crouch down, shove some snow between your hands and form a ball. Then, with all your strength, you turn around and throw it at him. Sukuna leans back to dodge but-

Bam!

The snowball hits his shoulder with a wet impact, shattering in a million pieces.

And you gasp in victory, as you throw your arms up in the air.

“Ahhh hahahah!” you exclaim, before a wide grin spreads onto his lips and he flashes his teeth. A sadistic, aroused chuckle escapes his throat, as his eyes flicker right at you, as he slowly rises to his feet, cracking his neck and knuckles, before he growls in excitement.

“So, you wanna play?”

[ra1nyd4yzz]

November 16th, the fall of Wilbur soot

Warnings: smut,riding,talk of Wilbur being a terrorist, character death, Wilbur's kind of a dick at the start

taglist: @abbs-writes-nsfw @gaywizards70

Notes: I wrote this in one night because I had a massive urge to write and someone suggested I should write pogbur smut, so I did :) I hope its ok and not completely shitttt

Words:1558

You walked around pogtopia trying to find Wilbur, he's been more distant lately which has made you more needy and desperate. You peaked your head around a corner and found him staring off into space as he smoked a cigarette.

“Baby?” You looked at your gorgeous but tired boyfriend, he didn't respond, his thoughts consuming everything around him as he stared into the ravine with dead eyes.”babe?” you said louder and you took a step in front of him.

“Hmm..” Wilbur spoke in a bored, dull tone; it sounded like he didn't even care. “What do you want?” he kept staring into the ravine, taking drags of his cigarette,his expression barely changed, it was like he wasn't even trying anymore.

“Where have you been wil? Me and niki baked cookies!!” you seemed so happy compared to wilbur “so..” wilbur exhaled and took another drag of his cigarette, he didn't feel like talking and his lack of emotions showed it but you never give up when it comes to him!

“I don't want or care for those stupid cookies'' he started to walk away from you, flicking his cigarette butt onto the ground and stomping it, your heart shattered, and you held back tears, instantly your mind started to overthink “do you still love me?” you blurted out by accident, you had a sad look on your face.

Wilbur stopped and sighed, he hesitated for a second before turning on his heel to look at you “of course i do” there was no love in his tone, he showed a small bit of emotion for a millisecond before he was back to looking completely dead.

“Do you really? We haven't kissed in months nor have you touched me….we hardly even talk anymore all you care about is blowing up stupid marburg and defeating stupid schlatt..” you felt bad to say this but it was the truth and you were always a truth speaker.

“Yeah well i'm a little busy being a terrorist” wilbur rolled his eyes at you which hurt even more. “God you're so annoying and clingy” he sighed and rubbed his eye, he grumbled and then turned back to look into the ravine, his emotions completely switched and went back to cold and dead.

“I love you..” you gulped “i just want you to touch and love me again wil..” you teared up “am i that disgusting?” you weren't ready for his answer, you were already so emotional and you loved him so much and he just hasn't been showing you that he loves you too since the fall of l’manberg.

Wilbur groaned in annoyance “just go away.” he said his voice was dull, he was so cold and apathetic towards you. Did he really love you? Or was it out of pity at this point? You muttered something about Schlatt loving you more than Wilbur ever did.

Wilbur whipped around to face you, his emotion changing immediately. You could see his expression full of coldness and anger. “What did you just say?” his glare burned holes into your eyes and his tone became much more stern and harsh.

“I said maybe schlatt would show his love and love me more than you actually love me” your tone just got sadder and sadder, a tinge of anger was in there but it was mainly sadness,desperation and neediness.

Wilbur clenched his fists and started to walk towards you, the anger inside of him pouring out of every cell in is body “did you just say that monster would love you more then me” he got right into your face and glared into your soul, when he said the last part you could hear a hint of sadness you knew deep down no one could love you like wilbur loves you.

You gulped and stepped back, you could still feel his hot breath on your face and lips “yes.” you said with a little bit of hesitation “are you fucking serious right now!” he yelled, it echoed throughout the ravine.

Wilbur couldn't believe his own ears. His eyes were dead set on you, he really did look like he wanted to snap at you but he didn't, you were the love of his life. “I should be the only one that you love. Not Schlatt or anybody else for that matter” he was completely livid and this was not an emotion he showed often.

He raised a clenched fist and you flinched, you knew he wouldn't hit you and he did not “sorry..” you whimpered out, his anger started to fade away and he looked at you again with softer and calmer eyes, he was calm again and it was like the argument never even happened in the first place.

Wilbur put his hands on either side of your cheeks and looked into your eyes, he seemed so sweet and charming again, your eyes softened as you looked back into those gorgeous dark chocolate brown eyes of his”i love you so much, and so what if we dont touch each other? We are still very much a couple and I love you more than anybody else in this stupid world we live in..” 

He softly smiled at you and his thumbs rubbed circles into your cheeks gently, “I'm needy wil and doing it myself doesn't cut it anymore..” you leaned into his touch more, you haven't felt the familiar, comforting touch in so long.

“I need you wil..you ruined me and i need you…please..” you said desperately and needily, you gave him puppy dog eyes, he still looked at you with a smile and looked down at your lips he leaned close to you. “Okay, okay…just for you my love” he took one last longing look at you before he then leaned in and gave you a deep passionate kiss, with no love to spare”

You kissed back hungrily, your hands went to his hair and you leaned up on your tippy toes,his hands went from your cheeks to your waist, then to your ass and he grabbed at it, you pulled back and started panting heavily “B-bedroom..please..now.”

He took a second to look at you and then chuckled “you’re as needy as ever aren't you?” you nodded and he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the bedroom. You quickly walked with him, he walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed, his legs laying out and his back resting up on the pillows.

You quickly got onto the bed and straddled his lap. “I can see you've missed a few things eh..?” he winked at you and then started to kiss your neck and whisper sweet nothings to you as he did so, you started to roll your hips on his needily, the friction making you moan quietly.

You started to undo his belt and he kept kissing your neck “your fucking gorgeous sweetheart” he muttered as he trailed purple and red marks down your jaw and neck. You took off his pants and boxers and took off your pants and underwear and lowered yourself down onto his cock with no prep.

He let out a groan and threw his head back, you started riding him and moaning loudly, you moans and his groans echoed throughout pogtopia, not even 20 minutes ago you guys were arguing so everyone could hear and now you were fucking and everyone could hear the sound of skin slapping and your moans made it obvious.

His hands went to your waist and his nails digged into your sides, that made you moan louder “w-wilbur! P-please!” you were so close “please what princess?” he asked in a sweet tone “c-close..please..let me” you were moaning so loud “go ahead sweet girl” he stroked you hair as you let out a loud moan and came, you were getting tired but wanted to keep going, wilbur came and you laid your head on his chest.

His dick slowly came out of you as your pussy began to leak of his cum and yours mixed together, he stroked your hair and pulled the covers over you guys. “Such a good job baby…you did so well for me” he praised and you slowly fell asleep as he hummed to you.

______________________________________________________________

It was literally the morning after you and Wilbur fucked and what you didn't know was that was the last time you and Wilbur would fuck ever.

well you guys won the fight between Pogtopia vs Manburg, you went to turn to Wilbur to celebrate. But he disappeared, and then when it all blew up, you saw Wilbur and his father Philza in a room. Philza had shielded Wilbur from getting hurt in the explosion.

But now Wilbur was shoving a diamond sword in wilburs hands and he looked like he was begging Philza to do something, you were too far away to hear. Philza shoved the diamond sword through wilburs stomach and tears filled your eyes.

You just saw the man you loved, the man you made love too only hours ago….die and bleed out at the hands of his father, you couldn't believe it, you wanted to scream and cry and yell and run over to him, but you couldn't move, and even if you could it would have taken ages to get to him.

[diz-eaze]

I'm in my "would you still love me if I died and while you were grieving, an eldritch being stole my mortal form giving you an avenue deny reality and continue on as though I'd never left?" Phase again.

I need to know, would Scara stoop to the level of kidnapping other people to feed an eldritch blob so said blob had the energy to actually take my form so he can lay pipe, or is he 'above' monster-fucking, let alone sticking his dick in what he knows is a formless blob taking on your appearance and memories?

This is very important, and the answer has the potential to cause a nuclear (fictional) relationship fallout greater than that caused by the infamous "can of worms" question.

the death of you had him clawing at his chest until he bled because the pain was too great for him to bear. the tears spilled in your name, and the sobs he gave out were all meaningless because your heart had stopped beating. perhaps you were taken by a chronic illness, an accident, or became a victim of a killer's hands. either way, your physical body, your voice, and your touch no longer exist, for your flesh had long rotted away, exposing your skeleton to the world. you are gone. and there's no waking up from that.

but perhaps an illusion is enough to anchor him to reality, to keep him going as a functional human being.

this... creature isn't you, he knows well deep in his soul. but it looks like you, and perhaps through time, he can teach it how to act like you, too. if he can just close his eyes and will his brain to block out the memories of your death and funeral, then he can blissfully live out the rest of his life and pretend as if you never even left the mortal plane.

unfortunately, the creature's shapeshifting ability begins to wane off when it's hungry, and when it shifts back into this incomprehensible blob form that takes up an entire room's worth of space, scaramouche is left with no choice but to find food for it. in the beginning, he had assumed that what it needed were home-cooked meals; vegetables cut up, meat tenderly cooked, eggs perfectly fried, and all together nicely plated. he had opened the door, only enough for the plate of food to fit inside, before closing it quickly.

when it doesn't have your face and body, he finds it hard to look at it for long periods of time.

merely seconds after closing it, the sound of the ceramic plate collides against the closed door with an ear-curdling wail that follows soon after. he hears the creature stomp around, a childish action, before sighing and opening the door once more. he's not quite sure yet if it can understand him completely. all he remembers from his first encounter with it is when it was already inhabiting your body.

"what do you want?" the words are spit out through gritted teeth, a frown set firmly on his face.

it speaks, or at least he thinks it's trying to, but all that he hears is a mess of gurgles and babbles. his frown deepens before reluctantly taking a step forward.

"what was that?"

"...-uman..." this time, what he hears is nearly comprehensible, yet still quite tapered. this creature can't seem to grasp speech quite yet, it seems.

still, scaramouche asks for confirmation, "human?"

it nods to the best of its abilities, moving in an up-and-down motion.

this thing... eats humans? this would undoubtedly spell trouble for him, there are too many unknown factors at play here. how often would it need to consume a human? is one even enough per meal? how will he find someone without raising suspicion? what about the bones, will it consume those too?

and most of all... should he fail to find a sacrifice, would he be the meal himself?

it's too risky, yet as he peers into what stands infront of him, the only thought worth echoing in his mind is the prospect of bringing you back.

it's not you.

but it's enough for now.

(down the line, he deludes himself enough into believing that perhaps, this is actually, truly you. maybe this is you in death, and that you had left the afterlife to crawl back into the one place that you can call home.)

[black-flames-and-cherry-flowers]

The Burning Monster of Envy

Maybe, under the most gruesome torture, Sasuke would admit that what he is feeling now is jealousy. He has seen his entire family dead, slain by his brother. He has spent a third of his life drowning in vengeance and battling sorrow. He became a master at denying his desires in favor of what he needed to grow stronger. Yet, the inner acknowledgment of the jealousy furiously burning inside him leaves him paralyzed.

It’s not like he has never felt jealousy before, he did, when he was young and his father didn’t give him even a fraction of the attention he gave Itachi. Or when Itachi always seemed to prefer Shisui’s company. It’s the sheer magnitude of it that truly shocks him.

He accompanied her to this party because she insisted it would be beneficial for him. To most people, he is an enigma. The boy who left and became a traitor. The international threat who became a war hero. The criminal who embarked on a journey of redemption.

No one is quite sure what to truly think of him, his character unreadable, his temper volatile, his love unshakeable. A walking contradiction, loved and feared with the same passion. Sakura reasoned that while people may not know what to feel about him, they did about his companions. Let them see that, despite everything, he is always welcomed among them, either because Naruto, Kakashi, or she wants him there, or because the rest know that, for better or worse, he played a part in why they are still alive. 

If Sasuke is being honest with himself, he couldn’t care less about what most people in Konoha think. But he does care about Sakura. And if doing something like this brings her some peace, he’ll do it a million times if needed.

Supposedly, he’s talking to Kiba, Chouji, and Shikamaru. Which means that, from time to time, he makes a non-committal sound while Kiba and Chouji keep talking. Shikamaru fakes boredom as he analyzes everyone in the room, the skills they brag about and how their personalities fit missions across different countries. The duties of the Hokage’s advisor are something he can’t leave at the office.

This allows Sasuke to follow Sakura’s figure as she moves through the crowd, leading him to his current realization. She talks animatedly with Lee, who leans into her space. While he understands the pull Sakura Haruno has on everyone, it doesn’t stop him from wanting to cross the room just to create some space between them.

And by 'create some space,' Sasuke really means violently shoving him away from her. But he refrains from acting on his dark thoughts. Lee hasn’t done anything outrageous enough to warrant such a response from him. No, all he has done is look at her with such open admiration that it makes his blood boil.

It’s not that he doesn’t think Sakura deserves to be admired, she does, and more than anyone. But he is incapable of allowing the world to see it the way Lee does.

The more Sasuke watches her, the more he dwells on the situation, the more reasons he finds to feed the monster stirring in his chest.

The ease with which Ino holds her, kisses her cheek before leaving. The way Naruto makes her laugh until her face turns pink. How Kakashi ruffles her hair, despite having been told not to do it, yet she never moves to stop him. Finally, the proud glint that fills Tsunade’s gaze and laces her words. A painful reminder that words never come to his mouth the same way.

Sasuke can only clench his fist as envy burns in his chest. Maybe this is the price for every tear Sakura has shed because of him. Now, he is condemned to watch as jealousy consumes every inch of him

By the end of the night, he is exhausted, his head aching, a violent fire raging inside him, one he doesn’t know how to extinguish. But when Sakura returns to his side, her eyes sparkling as if Sasuke is always her best view, the monster within him exhales,basking in her undivided attention.

Maybe Sasuke can’t do the same things Lee, Ino, Naruto, Kakashi, or Tsunade do. But he vows to himself to protect that unique spark in her eyes, the one that exists only because of him.

It's a small thing, but the idea wasn't leaving my head. Comments are always welcomed.