#homicipher fanfic

[bloodblanks]

do homicipher characters experience arousal?

i want to preface this by saying that i am not in any way, shape, or form criticizing other homicipher writers and/or their headcanons. i absolutely adore the work i’ve seen from everyone and am grateful to be able to read it! this is simply my personal thoughts on this topic so i hope it doesn’t come across like i’m trying to demean anyone else’s work.

additional note: i write reader insert so i will be referring to us as the reader rather than mc, but my post should work for both interpretations ^^

this is something i’ve been thinking about a lot since i’m working on some nsfw homicipher headcanons myself. from what i’ve read, a lot of homicipher work headcanon the characters as not really experiencing and/or knowing what arousal is, at least until they meet the reader (which is extremely endearing and flattering, i love the concept, and there’s nothing wrong with it!) but i personally came to the conclusion that homicipher characters do experience arousal, and have experienced it before meeting the reader. however, i believe their perception of arousal differs from ours.

to start, the reason i think they experience arousal to begin with, is because arousal isn’t just an emotional or mental response, but also a physiological function. similar to other physical needs (ie: food, sleep, water)—which i think they also require though that’s for another post—arousal doesn’t necessarily require conscious thought or emotional processes. arousal can be merely a response to touch or certain sensory inputs, something that happens regardless of how we think or feel.

while i think arousal is a natural function for them, i don’t believe they are likely to have had sex with other homicipher characters. the reason for that is also why i say they experience arousal differently—they don’t understand attraction. this is based on both my personal bias of wanting them to ourselves, but also the in game interactions with mr. hood and mr. silvair, where they fail to grasp the concept of ‘liking’ an individual.

since they don’t experience attraction (yet!), i imagine their perception of arousal would be a mechanical or instinctual one; just something their bodies respond to. much like thoughtlessly scratching an itch, they likely address it more as a physical need to take care of, rather than associating it with any deeper desires or having it directed/related to another person.

my silly little reader insert loving self does insist that they feel some sort of attraction towards us, though, which i believe will be a newfound feeling for them that can change how they experience arousal. with them able to feel attraction towards us, their once neutral and unassuming need can become something more intimate, romantic, or even obsessive depending on the character.

tl;dr homicipher characters have always experienced arousal but only as a bodily function, as they don’t understand attraction until meeting and developing interest in the reader, which changes their perception of arousal to something more complex and intimate.

thank you everyone for reading my silly little shower thoughts. i hope this was coherent enough and made sense! (>^ω^<)

feel free to leave any of your thoughts below if you have any comments on this! and feel free to argue with me if you think i’m yapping nonsense... (･･;)

[pochipop]

＃HOMICIPHER !! ♡ — DWELLING, ROTTING, SURVIVING (MR CRAWLING X READER).

#. synopsis! — speaking isn't the only way to understand, and he's oh so gentle .

#. characters! — mr crawling .

#. warnings! — canon-typical dark content + setting .

#. word count! — 1.7k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — hi, i posted, please stop bullying me in my inbox :(( - all jokes aside, thank you guys for all the nice messages and compliments! & happy pride to my lgbt followers! funnily enough, don't think i've ever "come out" on this blog, but if it's not obvious, i'm bisexual lol so there's that!

You found yourself pressed against a cold, damp wall in what you could only assume was a room close to the belly of this labyrinth-like building. Breaths came in shallow, frightened gasps as the lights overhead flickered ominously, like they were trying to warn you of impending danger. . . Danger that you felt sting your chest like needles poking through your skin. The oppressive silence surrounding you was broken only by your intakes of air and the soft, almost imperceptible sound of something —or someone— (or maybe a mixture of the two, in this God-forsaken place) nearby.

Squinting into the gloom, a familiar shape emerged from the dark hallway, slipping into the room with you and pausing in the doorway. You felt relief take hold of you.

Mr Crawling. . .

That, of course, likely wasn’t his real name, but you didn’t speak in the language of clicks, noises, and chirp-like sounds that he did, and he didn’t speak with your tongue either. It was for that reason in particular that you’d bludgeoned his head with a crowbar not long ago, to which he sulked in a corner, bleeding and whining, and you were left to feel terrible for hurting the first entity that had tried to go out of his way to show you true empathy in a way you understood.

Apologizing didn’t even begin to feel like enough. Probably because you were at least ninety percent sure he didn’t understand what you were saying anyway. Helping him with the wound perhaps made it slightly better. . . But also not really, because even now as he skims across the ground to where you are, there’s a sense of guilt that weighs heavy on your heart.

Pale, grey-skinned and moving like any non-human mammal of sorts, his face is mostly obscured by the long, stringy black hair that falls in vine-like, clumped strands all the way to the floor from his hunched position. There’s an unsettling, animalistic grace to the way he approaches, but you don’t flinch this time when he puts the flat of his cold palm against the crown of your head, as if trying to soothe your breathing. All of that initial fear has been replaced by a strange comfort of sorts, and you look up at him, thankful for his presence now more than ever.

He tilts his head, as if listening for something, and you watch him warily with the same crowbar clutched in your fist. A part of you felt bad carrying it around like that with his blood still smeared on it, but here, you knew it was foolish to venture around without a weapon of some sort. Not protecting yourself for the sake of his feelings was, unfortunately, not an option as far as you were concerned, but thankfully he didn’t seem to have any opinion on the matter.

“Mr Crawling,” you whisper softly, reaching out to take his hand into your own.

He seemed to really respond to physical touch, and if language was always going to get in the way, you figured it was best to bridge the gap in another manner. This was the next best thing you could think of.

His head raises, and you suppose he’s trying to meet your gaze, though you can’t see his eyes through the mess of his hair.

“I need to understand you,” you say.

Ironically, that’s a bit of a hopeless endeavor in this sort of environment. It’s not like you have all the time in the world to pick up a new, completely unrelated language to yours while fighting for your life. Still. . . Gesturing had been helpful previously, especially for directions. The hooded figure you ran into first was quick to point around, that severed hand that had guided you for a bit was just as poignant in that area, and the silver-haired entity with a blindfold over his eyes had also tried to communicate with you in that sense as well. So why couldn’t you do it vice-versa?

“Me,” you point to yourself, “you,” you point to him.

He stared blankly for a moment, then seemed to come to an understanding. His had retracted from your head to point at himself, then to you, a clicking noise coming from the back of his throat. You smile. It was a small victory amongst a series of devastating losses, but you were keen on taking it and running with it as far as you could stretch it.

“Okay,” you breathe, talking more to yourself than to him. “Let’s try this then. . .”

Feeling a surge of determination, you touch your stomach and then mime eating.

“Hungry. Eat.”

At this point, you were still too anxious to have an appetite, but you knew you’d need food eventually. You were hoping he’d be able to help you with that somehow. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen any evidence of there being food around here, —no containers, boxes, or wrappings, but he seemed to understand your gestures and mimicked you; sitting back on his knees to rub his stomach through his filthy t-shirt, then nibbling on an imaginary item.

He looks back to you, as if seeking approval. You smile, hoping he understands that to be a sign of good will, then nod your head to drive home the association. Beneath his swath of hair, he smiles too, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the curtain of black strands; dark and thoughtful.

“Good,” you murmur, feeling slightly relieved. 

If nothing else, this was progress. You spend a while longer trying to communicate basic needs and warnings: things like yes, no, stop, come, drinking, sleeping, and a thank you in the way of patting his head. You’re not sure he understood the depth of it by any means, but he did seem to enjoy it. . . Like a puppy. The thought made you smile genuinely and absentmindedly, if only for a moment. The clicks and chirps he makes are mostly lost on you, but the noises are comforting nonetheless. This rudimentary bridge of understanding soothes you just a little, and you find yourself feeling very thankful that he’s here in the first place.

He has your face cupped in his hands now, as if he’s inspecting you. . . Or perhaps admiring? That is, until you feel his body tense and all his little sounds abruptly come to a halt. A small growl reverberates from the back of his throat and his wide smile droops into a frown. Suddenly, he’s roughly dragging you along, tugging urgently on your arms, to which you comply and follow along with him, scooting across the floor until you reach a shadowed alcove. You hadn’t even noticed it before, but he seems to know his way around this place like the back of his cold, grey hand.

He covers your mouth for a moment, then shakes his head. You cover your mouth, take your hand away, then shake your head no, just to ensure to him that you’ve understood. He pats your head then crouches in front of you, using his own body as a makeshift shield for yours. His long, spindly arms cage you against the wall. Fear rises inside you once again, though not because of him and his actions. Rather, the faint, rhythmic thuds of footsteps have begun reverberating through the hall just outside, and you recognize the harrowing pattern they click in.

Mr Scarletella.

You encountered him once before and felt every hair on your body stand on end. The way he moved through the halls with a menacing flow that sounded almost eerily melodic, and the strange, unsettling red glow that seemed to exude off him that nearly drew you in like a moth to a flame. The steps echoed off the walls of the building and your heart began to hammer against your ribs. Mr Crawling moved closer as he came into view through the doorway that lacked any actual door to close, his long, black hair tickling your nose ever so softly. Dressed in scarlet and carrying his ever-present umbrella, you decide quite readily that you’ve seen enough, closing your eyes and focusing on the cool feel of Mr Crawling’s skin, on his musky scent (like mildew and a bit of rot, which isn’t necessarily pleasant, but it’s not like he can really help it down here.)

Though you’re no longer watching, the entity dripping in scarlet moves with an unsettling, almost predatory grace, glancing about the corridors as if he’s searching for something. Or someone.

Once again, Mr Crawling presses closer to you. Now, you’re able to feel the way his body trembles with fear, and you realize that he’s just as terrified as you are, though you can’t tell if that fear is for himself, for you, or for both of you at once. And it’s not like you can ask. Still, you open your eyes just long enough to look up at him, Mr Scarletella in your peripheral as you force a smile and touch the crown of Mr Crawling’s head, offering what little comfort you can. He still quivers, but seems to appreciate the gesture, though he doesn’t risk a happy chirp.

The danger passes as the man in scarlet disappears down the hallway, then turns the corner. You let out a silent sigh of relief and Mr Crawling relaxes after several moments of continued tension, finally going limp and releasing you from against the wall. He slumps onto his knees, which seems to be his most comfortable position, and he looks at you clearly through the darkness. In that moment, it feels like you’ve understood one another perfectly. 

“Thank you,” you whisper sincerely, though you know he can’t really understand you.

You’re just hoping the gratitude comes across somehow, but at the risk that it won’t, you touch your chest over top of where your heart’s still beating like a drum, then touch his chest in the same place. It dawns on you that you don’t feel a heartbeat at all, and you almost pull your hand away. . . But something stops you. Something that says even if you’re right and he’s something less (or more) than human, —it doesn’t matter as much as the kindness he’s shown you. So your hand lingers until you softly pull away.

He grabs your cheeks again and holds them delicately.

[chocopudim]

can touch you?

mr. crawling x fem ! reader, she / her pronouns, blissful love life ending, smut (masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Lately, the monster had been found constantly getting absorbed by the TV, so the human decided to spend some alone time distressing herself. She closed the bedroom door quietly, making sure Mr. Crawling wasn't nearby. Then, walked to their bed, taking small steps not to indicate where she could be.

However, the wooden floor was somewhat old, the bed was a little rusty, and Mr. Crawling seemed to have a sixth sense, telling him about all her possible locations.

She removed her clothes and carefully laid down on their bed, closing her eyes as she took a few deep breaths, trying to focus and not think too much about the possibility of Mr. Crawling suddenly walking in. She had closed the door already, there was no way the monster would appear by her side, right?

The human relaxed her body and moved her hand to her chest, circling her skin with one of her fingertips. Her heart was beating fast, still afraid of getting caught by her ghostly roommate.

She moved the other hand between her thighs, gently massaging the area. A small moan escaped her lips. She didn't care though, surely that wouldn't be enough for Mr. Crawling to hear-

_ You hurt? You pain?

She quickly stopped whatever she was doing and directed her sight to the tall man sitting next to her, worry in his voice. The woman loved him dearly but hated how silent and willing he was to follow her everywhere, even when it wasn't needed.

_ M-Me... Huh... - The blood quickly ran to her cheeks as she searched for ways to explain herself. How could one even start to do that while looking at him? Wait, why was he even here and how much did he see?! Didn't she close the door?

_ You okay?

_ Me o-okay...

_ You need help?

_ H-Help?! - The human gasped, shocked.

_ Help. Me want help. - From Mr. Crawling's perspective, the human had probably injured herself while he wasn't looking and she was now moaning in agony. He also thought she looked somewhat cute while lying down like that, but he couldn't exactly understand why.

_ Oh! - She gasped again, finally realizing the monster thought she was hurt and wanted to help with that instead, - Me not need help. Me fine.

_ You fine? Why touch body?

Damn, Mr. Crawling wasn't subtle at all, was he? He must have felt she was trying to hide something. Now, how does one explain what they were doing to him, a monster that doesn't ever need to think about pleasuring himself?

_ T-Touch body make me... V-Very happy.

Happy? Was 'happy' really the right word for that?

_ Touch body make you very happy?

_ Y-Yes... - Deep down, she was praying Mr. Crawling would get the memo and walk away. That interaction couldn't get any more awkward.

_ Why? - Mr. Crawling asked curiously. He was trying to understand his human better and didn't notice how evasive his questions were coming across or how intimate that situation was.

_ Touch... Good. - She tried explaining in the best way she could, but it was hard since their vocabulary seemed to be so limited. The embarrassment also didn't help much. All she wanted to do was to disappear at that exact moment.

_ You like touch body?

_ M-Maybe...

_ You want me touch body?

_ W-What?! - The human exclaimed under her breath.

_ Me want make you very happy. Me want help. Me can touch you?

Was that really happening?

_ T-Touch me? You want touch me?

_ Yes. Can touch you?

Her heartbeats increased and she grew even more flustered. She could feel her heart echoing inside her head as the adrenaline rushed in. And so did Mr. Crawling.

The monster quietly stared at her, patiently waiting for an answer. He was used to touching his human, but not like that... The idea of it was quite alluring to him and he was tempted to explore those new emotions a little bit more.

_ Y-Yes. - The woman panicked after realizing her words. Did she really agree with that? It's not like she didn't want to. But just because they could, should they?

Mr. Crawling smiled, excited to make his human happy. Gently, he grasped one of her breasts, giving it a soft squeeze. His icy cold hands made the human shiver, but it was nice feeling it against her burning body.

_ Cute. - He said, seeming to enjoy how her chest felt, - You like my touch?

_ Y-Y-Yes!

_ Can teach me?

Perhaps, Mr. Crawling wanted to be guided...?

_ You play... - The woman said still feeling awkward about it, but not against it. She placed her hand on top of his and slowly guided him, showing him how to squeeze, pinch, tease... - W-Want consume?

_ Consume?

_ N-Not consume... Use mouth.

For a moment, Mr. Crawling stopped touching her and just analyzed her body language, trying to understand what his human could be trying to say. Then, he smiled as if he had finally figured it out. He placed his mouth, carefully on top of her chest. Then, he opened it, biting the flesh ever so softly. The human moaned again, feeling his tongue play with her nipple.

While Mr. Crawling was busy "consuming", she moved one of her hands between her tights for the second time, slowly massaging it. Mr. Crawling noticed her legs were moving a little bit more than before and looked down, removing his mouth from her chest.

_ Me consume legs?

_ Huh? - Before she could form a proper sentence, Mr. Crawling placed himself between her legs, fascinated by how interesting the human body could be. There were so many things he didn't know about... He touched her pussy with one of his fingers, making the woman shiver again due to how sudden it was.

_ Me touch? Me consume?

_ Y-You want touch? Want c-c-consume?

_ Yes. - He smiled, the same way he usually did, before inserting one of his long fingers inside of it. The woman gasped, biting her bottom lip to not moan too loudly, - You like touch? - He asked, slowly moving his finger in and out. He didn't know what he was doing but enjoyed observing her reactions. The monster just wanted to play with her and would continue entertaining her as long as she enjoyed it.

He liked how her face moved with every touch, the small sounds she made, the way her chest bounced, how soft and warm her skin was, the way her back slightly arched, and how she would move her hips... Mr. Crawling couldn't explain why, but he was fascinated by all of it.

_ Why wet? - Mr. Crawling asked again, circling her labia with his fingertips.

_ T-Touch good...

Then, a sudden question popped up in his head. What did his human taste like? Mr. Crawling asked himself as he removed his hand from her.

He planned to use his mouth from now on.

Noticing what he was about to do, she held his silk-black hair in her hands, slightly pulling it. Wanting to return the touch, Mr. Crawling squeezed her breast between his fingers.

The human felt a slight sense of anxiety while feeling his hot breath against her skin. Then, his mouth evolved it. The human shivered at how cold his lips felt in comparison to his tongue.

The monster slowly circled his tongue around her labia, before starting to move it up and down, enjoying how her back would arche differently.

It took him a few minutes, but he eventually found the clitoris. Realizing how much more sensitive she would get every time he touched that area, he started teasing it, licking it slowly at first.

The woman's hips eventually started moving faster and faster, and Mr. Crawling tried keeping up with her. The more she moaned, the deeper Mr. Crawling tried to go.

As her legs started shaking, she instinctively pulled his face against her pussy, letting out a loud moan. Mr. Crawling held her tights, squeezing them against his face. How could someone feel so warm and soft? He also really enjoyed the taste.

Mr. Crawling pulled away from her after noticing her lack of movement. Watching the way her body slowly grew relaxed as something else grew on him...

_ Me make you happy?

_ You make me happy... Me thankful. - She replied with a small smile plastered on her face, trying to catch her breath.

_ You like me touch body? Me good?

_ Yes. - The woman laughed lightly at his silly questions. - You good. You very good. Me like you. A lot.

_ Me glad. - Mr. Crawling smiled widely. One could tell he was feeling pretty happy and even proud about it, - You good. Me like you.

_ You fine...? - She asked slightly worried, wanting to make sure Mr. Crawling was okay with what had just happened between them, - You like touch body?

_ Yes. Me like body. You cute. - The monster answered sweetly, jumping on top of her for a hug, - You fine?

_ Me fine.

The two of them closed their eyes as they hugged, simply enjoying that small intimate moment... But suddenly, Mr. Crawling broke the silence, looking completely serious.

_ Not let others touch you. Me can touch you.

[nana-mania]

"GLITCHED DESIRE" he will always chase after you.

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : mr. scarletella

࿐*ೃ fandom : homicipher

࿐*ೃ extra : fem! reader, fluff

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ Flickering lights buzzed above you as you made your way through the dilapidated corridors of the building. You'd long since stopped hoping to find an easy way out—this was a mysterious building, and escape was rarely straightforward. Still, you refused to give up. Each door, each hallway, could hold a glimmer of hope. Or a trap.

Your steps echoed faintly, swallowed by the oppressive silence that surrounded you. You were focused on the cracked map in your hand, one you had drawn yourself, trying to decipher its faded markings when that familiar, unnerving sensation crept up your spine.

Someone was watching you. Someone was following you.

You turned quickly, scanning the barely lit hallway behind you. Nothing. No sign of movement, no shift in the shadows. But you felt it. You always felt it before he appeared.

With a sharp exhale, you turned back to your map, trying to focus on the task at hand. But when you did, he was there—Mr. Scarletella, mere inches from your face. His presence distorted reality, the air around him rippling like a corrupted video file. His eyes, void-like and unblinking, bore into yours, and the world felt like it had stopped.

You flinched instinctively, a shiver running down your spine. “Really? Again?” you muttered, more exasperated than afraid. You had gotten used to his tricks, his sudden appearances meant to jolt you into fear. By now, it was more annoying than terrifying.

Mr. Scarletella tilted his head, a slight smirk curling his lips. “What, you do?” he asked, his voice dripping with curiosity.

You didn’t even bother looking up as you replied casually, “Way out.” Your tone was deliberately flat, your attention divided between the map and the faint sound of a creaking door somewhere far off.

He didn’t seem deterred by your lack of interest. If anything, it only seemed to amuse him. “So focused,” he murmured, his voice almost a purr. “So serious. Why, escape?”

You ignored him, taking a step forward to investigate the faint sound. But as soon as you moved, he glitched again. One moment, he was behind you; the next, he was directly in front of you, blocking your path. His smirk widened, and his eyes sparkled with mischief—or something far darker.

“Excuse me,” you said, attempting to sidestep him.

He mirrored your movement effortlessly, leaning in just enough to invade your space. “Don't be cold.” His voice dropped to a near whisper.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted. “You’re wasting your time.”

“I, am?” His tone shifted, playful yet persistent. “You, waste time. Not me, darling.”

The sudden endearment made you falter for a split second, your focus breaking. Where did he learn that?

He noticed. Of course, he noticed. His grin grew sharper, and he leaned closer.

“Surprise?” he teased, his voice a velvet caress. “Don't run. Stay here, with me.”

You forced yourself to look away, your heart pounding—not from fear, but from something you couldn’t quite place. Annoyance? Frustration? No. It was something more dangerous. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, so you kept walking, determined to shake him off.

But, as always, he followed. Like a shadow, like a curse, he trailed behind you, his steps unnervingly quiet. His demeanor shifted as he walked, from predatory to almost... eager. Like a puppy following its owner.

“You,” he started again, “Me, can help. But, I don't. Why?”

“Because you’re bored.”

He chuckled, a low, melodic sound that made your skin prickle. “Wrong. Me, you, interested, (Y/n)."

You sighed, stopping at a locked door and fiddling with its rusted handle. “If I’m so interesting, why don’t you do something useful for once? Open this door.”

“Hmm...” He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “What, in return?”

“Peace and quiet,” you shot back.

He laughed again, a genuine sound that caught you off guard. It was rare to hear anything from him that wasn’t dripping with menace or mockery. “Funny,” he said. "Me, like you.”

Ignoring him, you moved to another door, only to find it locked as well. He leaned against the wall beside you, watching your every move with unnerving intensity. You could feel his gaze burning into you, even when you refused to meet it.

“You enjoy, right?” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost contemplative, “Our, little game. Me, chase you.”

You turned to glare at him, finally snapping. “Enjoy? You delusional. You’re the reason I’m stuck here in the first place!”

He shrugged, unbothered by your outburst. “Maybe. Me like you, a lot. Want you, stay here.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in an instant, his face mere inches from yours. His smile was gone, replaced by something darker. “Tell me,” he said, his voice a low murmur, “You can escape..will you, leave? Will you, miss me?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You wanted to snap at him, to push him away, to deny whatever game he was playing. But his eyes, those endless voids, held you captive.

“I—” The words caught in your throat, and you turned sharply, forcing yourself to walk away. Your footsteps echoed louder this time, as if trying to drown out the sound of your racing heart.

He didn’t follow immediately, but you could feel his presence lingering, his gaze heavy on your back. And then, just as you reached the end of the hallway, his voice called out to you, soft but insistent.

“Run, darling,” he said. “You come back. Always do.”

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. But his words stayed with you, echoing in your mind long after his presence had faded.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Treasures We Find Pt. 2

___________

With a sigh, you entered the shared bedroom to see Mr. Crawling lying on his stomach, manga opened, his feet kicking rhythmically. He was currently flipping through the pages that still exist before stopping at the page with the kiss. 

He really liked that book. 

He had stuffed it onto his kimono and how it never got lost, was a mystery for another time, but he always pulled it out at random times. 

Did he like the drawing perhaps or….? 

Once or twice you found him touching his lips with the pad of his fingers. For some reason you always made a U-turn when you saw him in that mode. 

You shook your head as you flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. With a giggle, Mr. Crawling stuck his head into your view. 

“Sup?” you murmured. 

Mr. Crawling eased down, placing his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. You placed your hand on his head, absently running your fingers through his hair.

You were barely floating between wakefulness and sleep when you felt a soft touch on your lips. 

When you finally peeled your eyes open, you saw Mr. Crawling, snatching his hand back. 

“What doing?” you asked sleepily.  

Mr. Crawling seemed to freeze. 

You came awake a little more then, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

Mr. Crawling ducked his head, his hair further hiding his face. It took you a moment but you were awake now.

Was this boy embarrassed? Was this him being embarrassed? So cute!!

You giggled as you sat up, placing a hand under his chin to tilt his head, “Hey, hey! What’s this?” 

Mr. Crawling pouted, “No laugh.” 

“Try do, me.” You snorted. 

Mr. Crawling pouted deeper before snatching his face away from your hand and sinking down on the bed, turning his back to you. 

You couldn’t help but to laugh once more before flopping down and throwing an arm over his middle, “So cute!” 

“Cute? Me now?” 

You nodded, “Uh-huh!” 

Mr. Crawling turned over on his side so that he could face you. Your giggles were fritzing out as your eyes fluttered close. Barely a beat later, you felt a touch on your cheek making your eyes open. His fingers ran over your cheek back and forth before slowly drifting downwards until the pad of his finger rested on your lips. You felt your lips tremble parting slightly. You heard Mr. Crawling suck in a breath at this. 

How’d did he even know?

Was this all instinctual? Or did that shoujo manga have more scenes he could make out? Or did he take that one scene and run with it? 

“Soft…” Mr. Crawling murmured before reaching up to touch his own, “Also soft.” Then his fingers were back on yours. 

You couldn’t help it, you grasped his wrist and pulled it away from your lips. Sitting up you asked, “Do you know what you are doing right now?” 

Mr. Crawling scrambled upwards, “Sorry! I hurt you! Sorry!!” 

You waved your hands, “Hurt no! I’m fine! It’s fine!” 

Mr. Crawling fairly vibrated with worry, “You angry.” 

“I….no angry.” You looked away from him. 

“Angry.” Mr. Crawling murmured. 

Your emotions were too complicated right now to begin to explain. Why did you like his fingers on your lips like that? He was leading into a kiss and you didn’t even know if he knew that! 

Mr. Crawling pressed against you, “Sorry…I sorry…” 

“Stop.” Your voice was more tired than angry.  

Mr. Crawling’s voice died out but he did not remove himself from being pressed against you. Instead his arms were hanging onto your shoulders for dear life and you could feel his gaze on you, even if you didn't see his eyes. (You still wondered if he had eyes but that's another thing for another time.) 

Why were the last traces of your humanity choosing now to exert itself? And why in this manner? 

You didn’t want to admit since seeing Mr. Crawling become obsessed with that book, you were slowly becoming obsessed with how Mr. Crawling was responding to such a book. 

In other words you had long since come to think about kissing Mr. Crawling. 

But you didn't know if anyone here understood such a concept. 

You almost wanted to tear your hair out but you didn't think that would translate well in Mr. Crawling’s eyes. Thankfully, his arms around your shoulders kept you from doing that anyway. 

You heaved a sigh. 

It wasn’t fair to let Mr. Crawling think you were hurt or that he hurt you or that you were even angry with him. You weren’t. But that meant you had to explain what you had been trying to avoid this entire time. 

You sighed once again. Then you felt before you heard Mr. Crawling whine. 

“Object…” You held out your hand and mimic flipping pages. Mr. Crawling recognized what you were asking for and gave you the torn up shoujo manga. 

Wordlessly you flipped through it. There wasn’t enough material for Mr. Crawling to do anything with except for that kissing panel. Things teased your memory that you could piece together from some of the other torn pages but what Mr. Crawling just did, was all him. 

All based on this one manga panel of kissing. 

With yet another sigh, you pointed to the picture, “You like?” 

Mr. Crawling shook his head vigorously. It was almost like a child who wanted to say anything that got him out of trouble. 

Your mouth quirked as you looked at him in amusement, “You sure? You look lot. You like?” 

Mr. Crawling was doing some variation of hand-wringing and did not know what to say. He didn’t want you to leave him so he opted for silence. 

You must have read something in his fidgeting because you softened your eyes as you reached up to cup his cheek. He consciously leaned his head into your hand, his fingers twitching to hold your wrist, to bury his face closer. 

But he didn’t dare. 

Not now. 

He didn’t understand what was going on with you, but he recognized a fine tightrope when he saw it. 

“Mr. Crawling. I not angry. Not angry. Okay?” 

“Okay….” 

“You understand. I not angry.” 

“Okay.” His voice seemed more convinced that time. 

“Good, now, you like?” You held up the book. 

Even though Mr. Crawling froze, he slowly nodded, “I…like….” 

“Know this?” 

Mr. Crawling lamented when you pulled your hand away from him to point at the picture of the kissing panel. 

“....Not know.”

“But you like?” 

“Like.” 

“Why?”

“....” 

“....” 

“....” 

“....” 

Did you break him? 

Even you weren’t sure what kind of response Mr. Crawling would come up with for this, given the limited vocabulary and knowledge of humanity.  But you know that he was taken with this picture even if he couldn’t understand it himself. 

Other worldly creature or not, he was a man after all. 

“.....Fun...looks….maybe….” 

You finally got a response and amusement flooded you. Perhaps you shouldn’t tease him so, but you couldn’t help it, “Oh-ho? What looks fun?” 

Mr. Crawling had long ducked his head, his long hair shielding his limited gaze, “.....soft….” 

“....Looks soft? What object looks soft?” 

Mr. Crawling looked like he wanted to be under the bed right about now but still he pushed on, determined to answer your questions best he could, “....Lips together soft….” 

“You like lips together?” 

“....ou….” 

You leaned forward, “....Sorry, what speak? Hear not.” 

“.....” 

“.....” 

You shut the book. Perhaps it was time to let this go. You were worried Mr. Crawling might disappear on you, so small he seemed to be buried into himself, “Worry not. It’s fine. Think not. Okay?” 

Mr. Crawling shook his head vigorously, “No! No!” His gaze shot up towards you and you swore he was doing the equivalent of blushing at the moment as he waved his arms. He kept repeating no as if he had more to say but unable to articulate it. 

You were getting concerned now. 

You let the book drop from your fingers as you reached out and grabbed his arms. Sliding your hands down them, you ended up interlocking your hands with his, “Calm down, Mr. Crawling. It’s fine. Sorry. I lot ask. You not need speak. I not speak.”

Mr. Crawling shook his head again, his hair flying even as his hands gripped yours a bit more, “I….I…..you…..” 

“.....Something speak, yes? Slow. It’s fine, yes?” 

“Lips together I like. You and me lips….soft maybe….” It came out in a rushed breath that faded towards the end. 

You blinked and blinked again. Was he? 

You went to absently pull your hands away and Mr. Crawling took it as a negative. Shaking his head he gave a whine, “Sorry…I sorry…Sorry….” 

Your eyes widened, “No, sorry not. It’s fine. We are fine.” You had to almost snatch one hand away. It had Mr. Crawling panicking if not for the fact that you started petting his head. Once he realized that you had removed your hand to do that, his breathing started to calm down. 

It's just that his words were too important to be misunderstood.

But you just sat and patted him for a while so that both of you could calm down. 

“Mr. Crawling….” 

“Mmm.” 

“We understand must, yes?” You stopped petting him to cup his chin, tilting his gaze to yours, “You like lips together, yes?” 

“.....Yes….” 

“You and me, lips together. Think good, yes?” 

“Yes, soft.” 

“Think lot, you and me lips together?” 

“Object show. I think.” 

You allowed your mouth to quirk, “Is that right?” You couldn’t help but to be curious so you used the pad of your thumb to reach up to gently touch his lips. Strangely despite not being human, his lips did feel soft to the touch. 

Mr. Crawling sucked in a breath. He couldn't understand why it felt so nice or why he wanted you to do it again. 

“Not like? Sorry.” You realized what you just did pulling your thumb back. 

“I LIKE!! DO! DO!” 

You blinked. 

Couldn't get more emphatically than that. 

So you replaced your thumb back on his lips running over them. You felt Mr. Crawling sigh at the sensation. 

He whined when you dropped your hand from his chin, “Lips together, Kiss. Understand?” 

“...is…” Mr. Crawling pushed out part of the unfamiliar word. 

“Kiss…lips together. Object show kiss.” 

“Ki-kiss!! Heheehehe!!” 

You chuckled, “Yes, very good. Kiss. You know?” 

“I not know. You teach.” 

Your eyes widened.

Wait, did he want you to teach him to kiss or teach him about the concept of kissing? You felt yourself heat up again. You pulled your other hand that was still entangled in his away to slap both of your hands over your face. 

Why were you so embarrassed? 

“Hurt!?! Angry!?!” 

You shook your head, still buried in your hands, “No! No! …..Surprised!”

Yea, let's go with that. Close enough. 

You felt Mr. Crawling simmer down, “Why?” 

“Speak hard.” You raised your head. There was no hiding from this now, “Kiss together being you like. Only being you like. No other being.” 

“I like you.” 

“You like others, yes?” 

“Hm, yes. Friends like.” 

“Different like.” 

“.....” 

You lost him, “Kiss being like lots, lots, lots!!” You waved your hands vigorously, “Only being you like lots, lots, lots. Only being. Understand.” You flipped open the book, “Book show. Man…” You pointed to the male and then the female, “Woman. Beings like only lots, lots, lots. Kiss. Man, woman no kiss others.” 

“...Body soft….” 

Excuse me? 

You lowered the book. Where did Mr. Crawling mind go? You watch his head look at the picture before looking at you. He pointed to the woman then at you, “....body soft….” 

You slapped your face into your hands. 

“.....Surprised?” 

“Yes, right. Surprised....” You finally pulled your head from your hands. 

“I like you! Only you! Lots, lots, lots. You soft, I touch. Object show. Lips soft maybe. You and me like. You like me? We kiss, maybe?” He tilted his head cutely. 

“Want to kiss?” You asked lifting your head from your hands. 

Mr. Crawling gave a slow nod. 

You pointed at yourself, “Kiss me?” 

Nod. 

You pointed at yourself twice, “Only me?”

Nod. Nod. 

“No other being?” 

Shake, shake, shaaaaake!! “Only you. No other being. I like you lots lots lots! You and me together forever. Kiss, maybe.” 

Something flashed in your mind. White fabric, flowers, words forever and a kiss? It was gone quickly before you could examine it. You flopped back onto your back.

Mr. Crawling shuffled until his head was in view, “....Hurt? Surprised?”

You shook your head, “No hurt. Surprised, yes.” After a bit you rubbed your lips once, “My lips soft, maybe?” 

Mr. Crawling took it as an invitation that you intended and reached down to run the pad of his fingers over your lips, “Soft…soft….I like.” Then he touched his own lips. He kept alternating between the two. 

You laid still beneath him, even when he finally shifted slowly lining your faces together, “I kiss.” 

You could only nod. 

Slowly he lowered his face until his lips hovered over yours. You could feel his breath and shifted once. 

“Dislike?” Mr. Crawling pulled back. 

“No. I like.” You couldn’t help but squirm a bit though. 

You felt Mr. Crawling’s observations above you, even as your eyes continually shifted around. 

“Surprised?” He finally inquired. 

“....Hm, surprised.” 

“Good surprise?” 

“Hm, good surprise.” 

Then his hand came up and cupped your chin, stilling your movements. Your breath caught. He had to have an instinct because all of this was not in that manga! And if it was, it was long degraded so it was moot point. 

His thumb moved over your chin, “Like?”   

“Like.” 

Then he was lowering his head, his lips inches from his. Unconsciously, you pushed yourself upwards just the barest breath, making your lips tickle across each other. Mr. Crawling pulled back once, in surprise but didn’t let go of your chin.

He tilted his head before lowering it again, this time, barely touching your lips together. Your eyes fluttered, before closing. He held himself there before pulling back. You heard some kind of humming sound from him as if he was thinking before he lowered his lips back down, pressing together. Then he pulled back again. 

You opened your eyes to see him touching his own lips before touching yours, “Soft….”  

Then he leaned down, and you watched through hooded eyes as he tilted his head slightly before lowering his lips on yours. You angled your head for a better kiss. This must have done something because you felt a rumble sound from Mr. Crawling. Especially when you moved your lips slightly with his over yours. 

Surprised, Mr. Crawling pulled back, both hands coming up to his cheeks. 

Then….

“Heheehehe!!” 

He practically fell on top of you in his exuberance, hugging you, “I like!! I like lots!! You Me kiss! I like lots lots lots!” 

You were a bit winded at his full weight on top of you but you giggled, “I happy, you do. I like lots lots lots.” 

You might have ruined this boy in the days to come with the concept of a kiss. Mr. Crawling seemed to crave it quite a bit. Sometimes during downtime, you and Mr. Crawling would spend a lot of time kissing. You had gotten a bit bolder, teaching him a bit more of what felt good in the kissing realm. 

You taught him that you could kiss other places. Mr. Crawling liked forehead kisses, giving or receiving. He would give that adorable creepy giggle when you kissed his cheek. That was about as far as you were willing to go in teaching him other places to kiss at the moment. 

Seeing his chest peaking out, made your mind wander now that Mr. Crawling had opened the can of worms that was kissing. Maybe one day you’d work up to that. 

But for now, this was another treasure that you gained that you cherish. 

FIN.

[lilacxquartz]

breathless kisses;

the bride x gn!reader

plot: while sharing a quietly intimate moment with the bride, you show her how she can kiss you back, even if she physically couldn’t — themes: fluff, romance, gn!reader, first kiss, awkward dates — w.c: 700ish • ao3 • masterlist ♡

The ghost apartments were much quieter than usual tonight, with a distinct feeling of emptiness filling out the long and winding passageways. You walked side by side to The Bride whose hand was gently clasped in yours, with your fingers interlocked.

Tonight’s date was simple enough too, just a walk in that particular stairwell she liked. There weren’t all that many places to go otherwise, so you had to make do with what was given to you—not that you minded at all. The Bride was captivated, either way, feeling overjoyed that things were finally picking up for her.

You couldn’t deny it either—that there was something special about her.

Along the walk, the two of you came across a fresh red rose that seemed to be discarded along the side of the corridor; both the sight and placement almost seeming impossible. Still, you picked it up and offered it to her, watching as she plucked it from your fingers, gesturing that she was sniffing it despite her physical head not being there.

You were happy that she could make do, but a part of you couldn’t help but sympathise if even a little.

Her hands were very expressive and her body language betrayed no guessing, but you couldn’t help but wonder at times.

Especially as the evening wore on and you found yourself leaning forward, wanting nothing more than to show your appreciation with a kiss on her lips, and almost on autopilot, you were tempted by an impossible idea. Tiptoeing up and listening to your heart, you tried to dip your head towards where hers could have been, pausing at the sensation of nothing being there.

For you, the moment felt intimate for as long as it lasted, but then you noticed her rigid demeanour—at how she seemed frozen as if shocked, perhaps even offended by the attempt.

Immediately regretting it, you took a step back but then so did she. The Bride’s shoulders slumped down and all of a sudden, she seemed all the much more withdrawn. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, pinching and fussing over the fabric of the gloves. As a result, you panicked slightly at the sight and tried to reach out with a reassuring touch, but much to your dismay, she turned away from you.

Your mind scrambled and you knew that you had to act fast to make things right again. Without skipping a beat, you let slip of an urgent plea, “Wait!”

The Bride paused, however still seeming a little bit stiff as you approached her, but didn’t pull away that time. She watched with her demeanour still taut, as you pressed your fingertips against your lips before extending them towards her, patting the digits against her skin. You tried to convey a similar sort of gesture to a kiss, offering a compromise however you could.

“We can kiss like this?” you blurted out loud, not quite sure how else to explain it, gesturing it again. It was the sentiment that mattered, not how it was done.

It took her a moment, but then she slowly approached you on her own that time, branching out her fingers to press against your pillowed flesh, letting the touch linger for a moment. It was then a subtle change, but her body language gradually thawed to become more animated again, seeming almost delighted. She would tap your lips and then spread the sentiment elsewhere, tapping the pads of her fingers wherever else she could reach; along your forehead, cheeks, your nose and even over your hands.

From that moment on, she couldn’t stop ‘kissing’ you every single time you were nearby, with the application of such a caress growing all the more confident as time went on. Sometimes she’d give you a light ‘peck’, peppering your face with something light and casual, like a greeting—at other times—she would allow the touch to linger, leaving a lasting impression on your skin.

It might have been a spur of the moment for you to think of, but this compromise of yours was the best gift that she could have ever received because finally, she found someone who understood exactly what sort of love she wanted to give.

And she was especially lucky on that front because she also had someone who gave just as much as it back.

She had you.

[wodakoda]

“Mistake,” you repeat, just as you’d told Mr. Silvair earlier. “It was an mistake, an accident, he didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“Them Possible Kill You. Them See Blood, Them Hurt You. Them Unsafe,” Mr. Crawling shakes his head, his grip on your hand tightening. “Me Understand Mistake, Them Mistake Hurt You. Future Mistake Possible Kill You. Mistake Danger, Them Unsafe!” He explains, voice gradually shifting into something akin to a plead towards the end. //Chapter 3/4, 6k words... (Total 16k as of chapter 3!)

[kqzlqls]

hello tumblr fans how are you DOING🩶

while im thinking of the headlock au, i’m open for requests! i write:

• hamilton [musical] • formula one

• 21 chump street [justin] • maria clara at ibarra

• lucifer [show] • record of ragnarok

• 2 good 2 be true [show] • mashle

• call of duty

• homicipher

if you have any request/s that are not on this list, [such as the hamilton cast], you can comment it! thank youuu 🫶🏻🩶

[lavendrgremlin]

I ended up writing a smuty one shot. Albeit, it's quite violent.

Title: Between the gaps, you will find me. Ao3 link

Tags: Dubcon, oral, size difference, voyeurism, rough, blood and injury, explicit, and near death stuff.

Summary: There was a word that kept slipping from your understanding. After all, how could one explain what sexual desire was without teaching it to you?

A little self indulgent

[i90o3]

hi!! i was wondering if i could request a little scenario/fic with mr crawling and just… pampering him? cuddles? maybe set after the ending where you take him home :3 i can’t explain how but he gives me major cuteness aggression…

Pampering.

context: post blissful love ending. You take care of him <3

Homicipher. mr crawling x reader. | Anypov. Fluff.

He also gives me cuteness aggression, like sometimes I just wanna squeeze him until he pops. HES SO CUTE!!!!!!! even if I kind of slandered him in this post..

requests r open !! (read rules)

Few things you noticed about Mr. Crawling..he’s all bloody, dirty, and he SMELLS.

You couldn’t have him stinking up your house with his nasty odor, and you honestly smelt bad too since you haven’t showered..so, what’s better than a self care day? Take care and pamper your ..boyfriend? (I don’t think he understands labels..)

It was a little..complicated? first getting him out of his clothes. He was confused as to why you were taking off his clothes.. but I think after you running the bath and getting out of your own clothes he joins you.

He looovveesss the feeling of you washing his hair and massaging his scalp, literally in bliss. Your hands just feel so good! (pause-) Honestly even your hands scrubbing his body feels good—lathering him up with soap and giving him all the attention! Along with some head pats and kisses, of course. You even guide your hands and let him wash your hair and body, even if he’s a little clumsy.

After getting out of the bath and drying yourselves off, (he has to stay in his towel because you gotta wash his NASTY ASS clothes), you sit him in front of your vanity and start applying all sorts of face masks and stuff to his face, letting it sit while you brush (detangle..) his hair. Both him and his clothes are all clean! and he just smells and looks so much better. Although you really weren’t sure what to do about his eyes (or lack of therefore..), but he didn’t seem to want to wear a blind fold like Mr. Silvair..so you just let his hair cover it.

(now he’s allowed in your bed because he’s not STANK)

And for the best part of self care day, is spending the rest of the night cuddling in bed, your arms wrapped around him as he lays on your chest, your hands patting his head and kissing his face until you fall asleep, watching over you and admiring your sleeping features. His fingers will occasionally brush against your cheek or your collarbone, featherlight, not enough to wake you up. And he’ll even take your wrist and make your hand pat him on the head while you’re busy sleeping. He’s a little lonely while you sleep, but give him plenty of cuddles in the morning and he’ll be okay!!

9:23 pm. 11/03/2024. @i90o3

[satori-runa]

—Pretty in color

Summary: You returned from work only to find your new boyfriend struggling with your make-up.

Tags: Established Relationship, Blissful Love Life Ending, fluff

Words: 1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It was evening when you got home. The sky was already dark, and you had rushed all the way from work down the streets back to your flat, knowing that Mr. Crawling was waiting for you. You always felt terribly guilty whenever he couldn't come along, and you promised yourself you’d make it up to him by cuddling him all night.

But when you stepped inside, it caught you by surprise that he wasn't behind the front door, waiting as he always did. The small hallway felt strangely empty without his presence, leaving you puzzled.

"Mr. Crawling?" you called out, and before long, you heard the familiar giggle from the living room, sounding almost... proud.

You hurried in, only to step on something small. Was this... your lipstick? You lifted your foot, picking up the tube and frowning, wondering if you had dropped it this morning. But as soon as you looked up and met Mr. Crawling's face, you realized the truth.

His face was smeared with various types of makeup—lipstick messily smudged across his lips and cheeks, eyeliner drawn in strange places where it clearly didn’t belong, and streaks of your foundation unevenly spread across his pale skin. He continued to giggle, almost preening, as if showing off his new look. It was hard not to laugh, and you beckoned him over. Had he tried to copy your makeup routine from this morning? He looked ridiculous, but his effort was adorable.

"You trying to look like me?" you asked, amused, gently stroking his colorful cheek as he leaned into your touch with a pleased hum. "Would you like me to put make up on your face properly?"

You hoped he understood, because if he really wanted to imitate you, then you might as well help him.

He tilted his head, as if considering your offer. The giggle quieted, replaced by a soft hum of curiosity. You took that as a yes. Smiling, you guided him to the couch, sitting down and patting the spot beside you. He crawled over, careful not to knock anything over, and settled at your feet, looking up at you with what you could only assume was anticipation.

You reached for your makeup bag, pulling out a few items. "Alright, let’s clean this up a bit first," you said gently, grabbing a makeup remover wipe. You softly dabbed at his cheeks, wiping away the smudged colors. He sat still, surprisingly patient, his tall form hunched close to you, almost like a child getting pampered by a parent.

"There we go," you murmured, smiling as his face was slowly revealed. It was an odd comfort to see him like this—so unguarded, so willing to trust you. You believed that he had no eyes, yet you felt as if he was looking at you, his head tilted slightly, his expression almost tender in its strange way. You knew how easily he could frighten people, with his twisted, lanky form and the way he moved, yet here he was, letting you paint his face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You leaned in closer, applying a light layer of foundation. "This will feel a little cold," you warned him, and he flinched ever so slightly before settling down again, his giggle returning, this time quieter, like he was enjoying the cool sensation on his skin. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, brushing your fingers against his jaw as you blended the makeup in.

"You really are beautiful, you know," you whispered without thinking, and he giggles once more for a moment before pressing his head against your hand, making a soft, contented noise like a purr. You had never seen him like this before, so vulnerable and sweet. It made your heart squeeze with affection.

Next, you picked up the lipstick. "This time, let me do it for you," you said, smiling. You carefully applied the color to his lips, smoothing it out with your thumb. He leaned forward as you did, pressing closer, almost nuzzling your hand. When you pulled back to look at your work, his lips curled into a smile—soft, genuine, as if he was pleased with how he looked.

"Me… like," he murmured, his voice hoarse and crackling like broken glass, but the words were clear enough. It was rare for him to speak in your language, and the sound of it made your eyes soften.

"You do?" you asked quietly, and he nodded, his tall form curling around you protectively, like he wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever. You reached up, cupping his cheek, and he nuzzled into your palm, his smile widening.

"I like you too," you said, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. "You don’t need makeup to be beautiful, Mr. Crawling. You already are." You glanced at him full of love. “Me like you. You cute. You pretty.”

He let out a breath, almost like a sigh of relief, and leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. You closed your eyes, resting there with him, feeling the cool press of his skin against yours, the way his form seemed to wrap around you like a shelter. He didn't speak, but there was no need to. His touch said it all—the way he held you so gently, like you were something precious, the way he stayed close, even though he could easily rise and tower above you.

"Rest together," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. He let out another quiet giggle, nodding, his agreement clear without words. He shifted, curling up beside you on the couch, resting his head against your lap.

You stroked his hair, watching as his body relaxed, his tall form folding in on itself until he seemed almost small, almost vulnerable. He nuzzled into your touch, letting out a contented hum, and you couldn’t help but smile.

"Goodnight, Mr. Crawling," you whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He let out a soft, happy sound, cuddling closer as he drifted off. You stayed like that, holding him close.

Maybe he couldn’t come with you during the day, but you knew he’d always be there, waiting for you to come home. And that was enough.

[bloodblanks]

one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter vii.

Your interactions with the entity holding you captive begin to escalate.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

My human.

From the very second he laid eyes on you, he knew you were his. While you were gifted to him by the woman in a raincoat, that fact alone had little influence on and could not even begin to encapsulate his desire for you.

He had a clear recollection of the moment he found you. You had been injured by the aforementioned woman, sanguine, exquisitely oozing out of the wound on your head. The sight of blood spilling down your delicate features was one he’d never forget, the image having been seared into his mind. You were so, so lovely. A hint of colour against the dull monochrome building; a singular rose blossoming in the dead of winter.

Pretty.

You were just as beautiful now as you had been upon your first meeting, if he could call it that. Though he had adored the way the fresh steaks of red glistened on your skin, he did not find you any less enchanting, even with the blood having dried and crumbled away.

You were truly a gift for him, and he’d cherish you as such.

Which is why he failed to understand your reaction, disagreeing and arguing with him about not having been given to him.

Despite his mild frustration at your incomprehensible response, he wouldn’t get angry with you. You were already afraid of him for some unknown reason, and he didn’t want to exacerbate that fear. Instead, he’d try his best to explain to you the situation. You had no reason to be frightful of him; he’d take good care of you.

Human not communicate. Me worry.

For a moment, you were unresponsive, leading him to worry that you would continue to protest. But then you slowly nodded your head at him.

Human understand. You understand me.

Me happy, he thought. Grateful.

He was unable to do anything but smile, grinning widely from cheek to cheek at your acceptance. You had accepted his desire to take care of you. You had accepted being his gift. You had accepted him.

“You want me.” His statement came out plain and simple, uttered more to himself than to you.

Eyes pretty.

You didn’t refuse him, however. You merely glanced at him with wide eyes, eyes that reflected away all the dreariness of this place with the utmost brilliance. He simply allowed himself a moment to gaze into them, admiring the way they glimmered.

You nodded once again, such a small, slow tilt of your head that he almost failed to catch it.

Human want me. You want me.

“You want me,” his smile widened. “You want me, you want me...”

He feverishly chanted those words, as if each repetition was a stronger confirmation of your feelings than the last.

His heart throbbed, an aching pulse that pulverized him from the inside. While the words existed in his language, he never understood them—not until now. What was once a foreign concept to him now became all too present and all too real.

He craved you with a primal need that swirled deep in his viscera, longing for you in ways he only just now began to comprehend.

And you wanted him too.

Want me.

Just that simple fact was enough for his chest to rumble with tremendous force, the world inside his heart shifting much like the larger expanse he resided in.

Want have human. Want touch.

You were here looking at him still with doe eyes, the sight only further amplifying his desire. As the urge to have you filled his mind, he reacted accordingly by reaching out to you. His fingers brushed against your hair with the intention of stroking it, but you instantly flinched away from him.

Head damaged, head hurt, he suddenly remembered.

He couldn’t run his fingers through your hair, but that did little to diminish his coveting for you. Instead, he settled for touching your face, his fingers tracing along your forehead, your cheeks, your jawline. When they trailed over your lips, he realized he preferred touching them over the rest of your face.

He brushed his fingers over your lips a few more times and each time he did, he yearned for you a bit more than the last.

Want mouth touch.

He wasn’t sure where that thought came from. It was unfamiliar, yet somehow, it felt natural. There was an aspect about the gesture of touching your mouth with his that made it seem different from doing so with his hands. He wasn’t sure why that was, but it was intriguing, this newfound concept.

Slowly, he moved his index finger between your lips, gently pushing them apart. Your lips were a bit damp there, something he found strangely inviting. He wanted to bring his mouth to yours, he wanted to feel your lips against his—and you wanted him, so you wanted this too.

“Want you,” he said, his voice softer than usual, yet filled with fervour.

Want you. He looked at you for a moment longer, before he followed his instincts, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

Pleasant.

Your mouth was astonishingly warm, all molten heat and liquid velvet against his own. So soft, so alluring, so inviting. It was a sensation that felt oddly familiar, stirring up something in his chest that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. He didn’t pay it much mind, instead enjoying the feeling of your mouths touching in a way that was all too intoxicating.

Me you together.

In that very moment, with his lips encapsulating yours, the two of you were connected. He liked that.

He liked the togetherness, wanted more of it as he tried moving his lips against yours, hoping you’d do the same. To his own surprise, he found himself disappointed at your lack of reaction. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he wanted more than just this. He craved you with an aching need, desperately longed for more of you. He wanted to feel you against him, he wanted you.

Still, you were inanimate, leading him to wonder why. He reasoned that you were likely new to this, much like he was. Perhaps you didn’t know what to do, or maybe humans had a different way of expressing desire. He wasn’t sure, but he knew he should be patient with you and give you time to get accustomed to this. He would be gentle with you. He would take good care of you and show you that you had no reason to fear him. He would treasure you as his gift. He would express how much he craves you.

He pulled away briefly so he could speak.

“Together,” he mumbled. “Me like.”

Your eyebrows scrunched slightly, your parted lips—now faintly glistening—pressing together into a frown. His own eyes widened in shock; was there something wrong?

“You hurt?” he tentatively asked, a myriad of concerns welling up in his chest. “You okay?”

Human upset. Not know why.

Your frown seemed to deepen, your eyes glazing over with moisture that confused him greatly. He waited patiently for you to respond. After a long moment of silence, you finally uttered a singular word.

“Hurt,” you reluctantly stated.

“Why?” His response was instant. He had been so careful with you. He was aware you were fragile, and he treated you like such. It was hard to imagine he had hurt you in some way.

“Hungry,” you answered. He briefly wondered if there was more to it than just hunger, but he realized then that you had told him about needing food quite some time ago. It made sense. It made sense, but he found himself wishing that wasn’t the case. He wanted to continue what he was doing with you; he wanted to keep enjoying the feeling of togetherness that he experienced with you. But he said he’d take care of you, and that meant ensuring you didn’t go hungry.

He nodded his head, pulling back from you and reaching over to give you the box that you claimed was consumable. You gingerly took it from him, pausing for a moment before a small smile formed on your face.

Human happy. Me like.

“Thank you,” you said. For a second, he was awestruck—the way your lips curved upwards made his heart throb tenderly in his chest. He instinctively put a hand on his own chest, though nothing about it felt different.

Heart change? Not know.

“Welcome,” he muttered, his voice almost breathy.

—

As you chewed on the granola, you found a variety of thoughts coming to mind. At the forefront, you found yourself thinking the granola was extremely delicious. You had not had granola this tasty before. That’s what hunger does to people, you supposed.

In the back of your mind, you found yourself wondering just where exactly your current circumstances would place as far as the misfortune side of the misfortune-complaining matrix went. You had thought being kidnapped and held captive by a ghostly entity was a seven. Being kidnapped, held captive, and kissed by said monster, however—that should probably rank higher, right?

The concerning part was your uncertainty about that point. It should rank higher. In anyone’s sane mind, it would be worse. But somewhere in the very back of your mind, hiding in the shadowy, dark recesses, was the realization that you didn’t find it repulsive.

It was most definitely strange; there was no doubt about that. No matter how you looked at or thought about it, kissing an inhuman creature was an abnormal thing. The very experience was bizarre, from the coldness of his lips, to the stiffness of his movements, and to, well, the fact that he wasn’t human.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate it. If you were being fully honest with yourself, the kiss was... fine. Not how you would imagine a kiss to happen, but nonetheless not displeasing.

Perhaps you had gone insane in the short time span of being here—you weren’t sure. You most definitely felt like you were losing your mind as you ruminated over the kiss.

You had only gone along with it because you didn’t want to upset him, and yet, you couldn’t help but feel extremely flustered about it.

It’s just a kiss, you told yourself. He probably doesn’t even understand how it works.

Your thoughts did little to convince yourself that you were not becoming mad. The ever watchful gaze of the red umbrella man was still on you, increasing the discomfort and awkwardness that you felt. You found yourself shying away, eyes fixated on your lap, on the granola bar that you had stopped chewing, on everything besides him.

“You okay?” He suddenly interrupted your thoughts to ask a question.

“C-Correct,” you stammered, slightly caught off guard. You didn’t know how exactly to say you were okay, so you settled for the closest word you knew. The language barrier still proved to be endlessly frustrating, even with the help you received from Mr. Silvair.

The red umbrella man touched his hand to your cheek, the unexpected movement causing a startled jump.

“Face hurt?” he questioned. You thought his question over before responding.

“Face hurt,” you agreed, lying through your teeth much like you did earlier. You hoped he wouldn’t notice; the sparseness of the language should be enough to cover for any unusualness on your part.

“You ▮▮▮▮?”

You knew Mr. Silvair used that word when speaking to the red umbrella man, but you didn’t quite know what it meant.

“Not understand,” you replied. You weren’t as hungry anymore, but you chewed on your granola bar anyway, hoping it would save you from further conversation.

He didn’t talk after that. You finished your granola bar in silence, its wrapper soon joining the other packaging that you had discarded into the box, using it as a temporary trash can.

A wave of exhaustion washed over your body all at once, the adrenaline from the day’s events finally all wearing off. You could feel a mild ache in your head still, causing you to frown.

You glanced at the red umbrella man, who had been soundlessly observing you—very much unsettling behaviour—and back at the bed, where a small pillow was. It didn’t appear that he planned on letting you go anytime soon. You decided that you might as well rest now. Maybe once you recover some energy, you would be able to find a way out, though having to go through those terrifying rooms again was not something you looked forward to.

You let out another vexed exhale before sliding your shoes off and crawling into bed.

“You ▮▮▮▮?” The red umbrella man—which you were getting tired of mentally using—asked again. The word must mean ‘rest.’

“Correct,” you nodded. “Me rest.”

—

Human need rest. Human weak. Cute.

He didn’t understand the exact sleeping needs of a human yet, but considering how you woke up not long ago, you needed to sleep much more than he did.

His needs for rest were mostly limited to his mind. His body rarely needed any fuel; besides the occasional meal and fluid, he required little else. However, silencing his mind was a different matter.

It wasn’t a thing he needed often, but it was more constant than his need for consumption and physical rest. Every here and there, he slept in order to give his mind a break. Continuous thinking proved to be bothersome after a lengthy enough period, and so he would refresh himself by shutting down temporarily.

Human rest. Me take care.

As you made yourself comfortable in bed and lied down, you reached to pull the covers over yourself. The covers were just slightly too far away, which he noticed when you were about to sit up again.

Quickly, he reached for the covers himself, gently tugging it over your body. Your eyes opened in surprise, but as he rested the fabric on your shoulders, you seemed to relax.

Human happy. Me like. A lot like.

You raised your head slightly to look at him before smiling, seemingly content. The organ in his chest fluttered once again, an unsettling sensation. He looked down to examine his torso—nothing was wrong.

Not understand, he thought.

It didn’t matter too much, however. Your mouth was curved upwards in the most delightful way, and he felt the urge to touch it with his own, but refrained. He would take care of you and allow you to sleep first.

“Goodnight,” he couldn’t help returning your smile. Yours faltered for a slight second before you let out a nervous laugh.

Pleasant.

“Goodnight,” you repeated back to him.

You snuggled into the pillow, seemingly comfortable in the bed. He felt proud of having taken good care of you, like he decided he would.

Your eyelids fluttered briefly, but just when he thought you’d fallen asleep, you abruptly opened them.

“You have name?” you unexpectedly inquired.

He opened his mouth, about to tell you that he didn’t, when a sharp, buzzing static pierced through his skull. 

next chapter ->

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thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[syoounn]

How does it feel writing a fluff fanfic for a character knowing damn well they wouldn’t even look at anyone, let alone care

[j-helen]

NAME: Your first sex

warnings: fem читательница, первый раз, посасывание груди, неопытность, монстр, плохое знание языка, "NSFW"

Все закончилось хорошо. Ты была дома. Ты смогла вернуться. Смогла сохранить жизнь, и не было ничего важнее этого. Но кое-что изменилось, верно? Ты забрала из потустороннего изменения того, кого в мире живых быть не должно. Мистер Ползующий сидел рядом, цепляясь за твои ноги. - Никаких монстров? – смогла разобрать ты тихий говор. Сложно понять, сколько времени ты там провела, но язык немного сумела выучить. Ваша коммуникация с призраком больше не состояла из простых жестов.

- Нет, никакой опасности, - отвечаешь ты, поглаживая парня по волосам. Тот, наконец, оторвавшись от тебя, проползает вперед, начиная исследовать коридор квартиры. Его движения неторопливы, словно огромный монстр может испугаться чего-либо. А он может в этом огромном и непонятном ему мире. В твоей груди что-то сжалось, и ты ощутила прилив тепла. Ползунчик заботился о тебе, и теперь твоя очередь позаботиться о нем.

Призрак уже быстро прополз две комнаты, возвращаясь к тебе. Его фигура в темном коридоре все еще выглядела жутко, но бояться было нечего – привычный  хихикающий звук разрезает тишину. Привычный?

- Весело. Мне нравится. Красиво, – монстр активно выражал свои эмоции, широко улыбаясь, видимо, находя твое место жительство очень милым. Ты не сдерживаешь улыбки в ответ, присаживаясь на корточки перед ним.

- Да, ты можешь оставаться, сколько захочешь, - пытаешься объяснить ты, поглаживая Мистера Ползующего по голове, на что тот только льнет  к прикосновению. Подставляется под твою ладонь.

Какими были ваши отношения? Да ты и сама не знала. Но они определенно развивались стараниями обоих. Медленно, старательно границы между вами стирались. Ты учила призрака своему языку, обстановке и другим навыкам. И хоть, квартиру ему покидать не разрешалось, а без тебя он очень скучал, Ползунчик научился радовать тебя деталями или другими знаками внимания  – то полы чис��ые, то в квартире пыль протерта или на столе лежит маленькое оригами. Это было приятно – получать такие подарки.

Первый поцелуй вышел слегка неловким, но таким чувственным, что подкашивались ноги.

Тебе пришлось ухватиться за его плечи, сжать ткань одежды, отвечая на мягкие и неуверенные движения губами. Это получилось неожиданно, призрак сам стал инициатором. Он только учился, но получалось все так невинно и искренне, что ты с головой погрузилась в момент. И такая практика стала ежедневной. Мужчине нравились твои губы, нравились поцелуи с тобой и тепло твоего тела. Ты вся была мягкой  и теплой. Это будоражило. Будоражило то, чего, казалось, не может испытывать призрак. И ваши отношения стали только крепче, хоть ты порой и сомневалась в правильности происходящего. В один из дней ты просто потеряла счет времени в делах, утопая после работы в море других обязательств. Когда через сутки ты вернулась домой, чтобы насладиться заслуженным выходным, то даже не ожидала, что в коридоре тебя встретит огромная фигура. Ты только успела снять кроссовки, как чуть ли не вскрикиваешь, выронив сумку: в коридоре стоял Мистер Ползующий, оперевшись руками о стену. Он выглядел хмурым. И ты даже не успеваешь что-либо произнести, как монстр стремительно оказывается около тебя, начиная проверять все ли в порядке. Не пострадала ли ты, не причинил ли тебе кто-то боль. Он волновался.  –  Я думать, ты меня бросить, –  тихо произносит призрак, обнимая тебя. Ты впервые видела его на ногах – он выглядел просто огромным по сравнению с тобой. Ты казалась маленькой и хрупкой в сравнении с его габаритами. И стыд в секунду захлестнул с головой, стоило услышать расстроенный тихий голос, а осознанию того, что ты даже не предупредила как-то своего «сожителя», что задержишься, ударило в голову. – Прости, что не предупредила. Я забыла, это не специально, – как можно осторожнее говоришь, обнимая мужчину, - это было безответственно с моей стороны. – Ты отводишь взгляд, чувствуя, что краснеешь.

С минуту Ползунчик молчит, прежде чем хихикнуть в тишине.

– Я волноваться за тебя. Все хорошо? – он наклоняется ближе, соприкасаясь носом с твоей щекой. Вдыхает запах.

– Да, просто было много работы, – ты с облегчением выдыхаешь. Позволяешь себе улыбнуться. Твои ладони скользят выше, обвивая его шею. Стоять вот так с ним было удивительно приятно, особенно из-за разницы в росте.

– Я рад. Ты больше не делать так?  - монстр хмурится на секунду, осторожно сжимая твою талию. Пряди длинных черных волос ниспадают на твое лицо, немного щекоча.

  – Не буду. Впредь буду предупреждать, – ты согласно киваешь, после чего призрак почти голодно прижимается своими губами к твоим. Он удивительно пристрастился к подобному проявлению чувств, а еще соскучился по твоему теплу. Податливо сминает твои губы, прикусывая за нижнюю, от чего ты непроизвольно стонешь. Мистер Ползующий разрывает поцелуй и тащит в спальню, все еще оставаясь на ногах. Его шаги достаточно уверенные, несмотря на боль, которую ему доставляет ходьба.

Тебя толкают на кровать, после чего мужчина оказывается сверху, накрывая всем своим телом. Кровать издает жалобный скрип под вашим весом. Прильнув губами к твоей шее, он принялся стягивать верхнюю часть одежды, проскальзывая холодными руками под ткань. Ты вздрагиваешь, не успевая реагировать на происходящее, как прохладный воздух касается оголенной кожи. Лонгслив оказывается скомканным на полу, а то, как ты сглатываешь, казалось, можно было услышать за соседней стеной.

–  Стой. Откуда ты…–  но не успеваешь закончить фразу, как требовательный поцелуй тебя прерывает. И откуда призрак узнал о подобном, если ты его не учила? Сейчас кажется совсем не важным, ведь приходится откинуть все эти мысли назад, отдаваясь приятной неге.

Ты теряешься в сильных руках и нежных, одновременно требовательных прикосновениях. Совершенно не уследив за моментом, как джинсовая ткань проскользила по ногам вниз, позволяешь мужчине устроиться между бедер. Ползунчик ни на секунду не отрывался от тебя, словно его целью было покрыть прохладными поцелуями каждый дюйм. Крепкие руки очерчивают каждый изгиб, пытаясь найти самые чувствительные и уязвимые участки. Кончиками пальцев еле ощутимо проводит по животу, щекочет, после по-собственнически сжимая мягкую кожу на бедрах. Сдавливает сильными пальцами, оставляя красные  отпечатки.

И, может, у призрака не было глаз, но он мог видеть по-своему, ориентироваться в пространстве и слышать, как и подобает существу из иного мира.

– Ты красивая, - у него выходит сказать даже без акцента, что ты даже не веришь первые пару секунд. Топишь себя в нежности к этому мужчине, что изменил свою жизнь ради тебя и пленил твое сердце. Без промедления обхватываешь лицо, притягивая к себе для глубокого и мокрого поцелуя. Длинный язык скользит тебе в рот, и ты несдержанно стонешь. Мистер Ползующий даже немного нетерпеливо стягивает лямки бюстгальтера, мягко обхватывая упругую грудь. Кажется, тебе нравится, кажется, ты чувствительна. Здесь. До недавнего времени, мужчина был уверен, что не помнит и не нуждается в подобных вещах. Не нуждается в близости, но, похоже, ошибся. В этом месте? Нет. Здесь.  Губы монстра растягиваются в улыбке, стоит ему уловить твою дрожь, когда он потирает один из твоих сосков. Повторив манипуляцию со вторым и убедившись в правильности своих действий, Ползунчик прильнул к бархатной коже, покусывая и посасывая чувствительные ореолы. Он не хотел сделать тебе больно, поэтому так осторожно ласкал грудь языком и большими пальцами, заставляя тебя прикусить ладонь, чтобы сдержать стоны. Иногда поднимал голову,  проверяя по твоей реакции, все ли тебе нравится.

Ты даже не ожидала, что призрак способен подойти к вопросу столько основательно, уделяя тебе все внимание. Очевидно, для него твое удовольствие стояло на первом месте. Он даже не прикоснулся к себе и ничем не выдал свой дискомфорт, полностью поглощенный прелюдиями и тобой. Отводил ласкам столько времени, чтобы ты почувствовала себя достаточно разогретой и подготовленной для следующего этапа.

–  Хэй, ты можешь…- твой голос хрипит от возбуждения, казалось, его можно было даже почувствовать в воздухе. Ты поглаживаешь мужчину по плечам и распахиваешь халат, оголяя подтянутый торс. Гулко сглатываешь, проводя по мышцам ладонью. Чувствуешь под подушечками пальцев, как все мышцы Мистера Ползующего напрягаются. Монстр выдыхает, но не перехватывает твои руки, позволяя изучить. Его длинные темные волосы оказываются в полном беспорядке, ложась на оголенные плечи, когда ты стягиваешь ткань с плеч. Он сам слегка ослабляет пояс, видимо, не планируя полноценно избавиться от одежды.

–  Я могу, – улыбка и привычный смех, заставляют усмехнуться и тебя саму. Тонкие пальцы аккуратно очерчивают край нижнего белья и тянут его вниз. Ты не пытаешься свести ноги, наоборот, даешь насладиться видом, пока Ползунчик ощупывает тебя.

Тонкие пальцы подцепляют смазку и размазывают между собой. Призрак изучающее облизывает свои пальцы, пробуя тебя на вкус, и боже, ему нравится. Мужчина вновь опускает руку, поглаживая твои складочки и клитор, пока ты наблюдаешь, затаив дыхание. Он без стеснения проталкивает сначала один палец, а затем и второй, выбивая из тебя стоны. Медленно двигает и ощупывает все изнутри, чтобы подготовить. Это вызывало некое извращенное удовольствие, несмотря на всю любовь к тебе, наблюдать, как ты извиваешься и хнычешь, пытаясь получить больше. Ты так течешь, что прозрачная жидкость размазывается по внутренней стороне твоих бедер.

Когда монстр оказывается  удовлетворен скольжением и твоим непрерываемыми мольбами: «Пожалуйста-пожалуйста. Я больше не могу!». А в уголках твоих глаз скапливаются слезы, ведь ты просто не способна унять дрожь во всем теле – он с негромких хлюпом вытаскивает пальцы, заставляя тебя разочарованно простонать. Твоя дырочка неконтролируемо сжимается вокруг пустоты, и ты невероятно нуждаешься в том, чтобы тебя наполнили до отказа.

Твои дрожащие руки тянутся к его паху, вытаскивая из-под ткани пульсирующий член. Он длинный и слегка темноват, с капелькой предэякулянта на головке. Проводишь рукой вверх-вниз, сжимая и дразня прикосновениями, что заставляет Ползунчика опереться одной рукой назад о кровать и бедрами непроизвольно качнуться тебе навстречу. Он готов позволять тебе делать тебе все, что угодно, но не когда ты вся раскрытая, лежишь под ним, чтобы он тебя трахнул.

Черноволосый мягко отстраняет твою руку с немым вопросом: «Можно?», и во всем его теле читается этот вопрос. Словно ты можешь не разрешить, откажешь ему, и он действительно прекратит. Он никогда не сделает ничего против твоей воли. Не сделает больно.

–  Можно, - ты киваешь, на что сразу получаешь счастливую улыбку. Да, и как ты раньше могла подумать о том, чтобы не взять э��о существо с собой?

–  Весело! – призрак притягивает тебя ближе за бедра и целует, позволяя обвить его торс ногами для удобства. Слегка торопится, пытаясь приставить головку члена к входу, и тебе приходится ему помочь, чтобы не расстраивать. Он облегченно выдыхает, когда ты раскрываешься для него, обволакивая горячим и мокрым пространством. Такие забытые и далекие ощущения сейчас вспыхивают в ином свете. Все кажется иначе с любимым человеком.

Мужчина медленно толкается, заполняя тебя миллиметр за миллиметром, что срывает с твоих губ соблазнительное и томное «ох». Этот звук только заставляет Мистера Ползующего самого захныкать и уткнуться тебе в изгиб шеи, пока ты поглаживаешь его по волосам. Внутри тебя так тесно, что призрак не уверен, что его хватит даже на пару толчков. Он входит по основание, наконец, полноценно растягивая тебя вокруг своего члена, и, черт, это ощущается просто великолепно. Ты подходила идеально. Медленно и нежно, постепенно наращивая темп.

Монстр сжимает твою талию, а затем и бедра и толкается. Глубоко настолько, что задевает  матку, и ты несдержанно стонешь: развратно и желанно. Ползунчик совсем теряет от тебя голову, начиная втрахивать в матрас глубокими толчками. И он ни на секунду не прекращал заботиться о тебе: вот его пальцы, переплетаются с твоими, пока он тяжело дышит, двигая тазом, а вот уже расцеловывает твое лицо, хаотично промахиваясь из-за толчков.

Проходит несколько часов, за которые ты успеваешь пару раз кончить, а сейчас устало и умиротворенно нежишься в объятиях призрака. Заслуженно, прижимаешь его голову к груди, пока он сам несвязанно что-то говорит и выводит узоры на твоей обнаженной кожи. Ты вся прекрасна в его отметинах и небольших следах. Другие должны знать, кому ты принадлежишь, ведь он убьет любого, кто посмеет прикоснуться или попытаться отобрать тебя у него.

–  Ты нравишься мне, – не скрывая обожания, говорит Мистер Ползующий, крепче обвивая руки вокруг тебя. Теснее прижимает к себе.

–  Правильно говорить: Я тебя люблю, - поправляешь ты мужчину, перебирая пряди волос. И, кажется, впервые за долгое время испытываешь счастье.

–  Я люблю тебя, - повторяет за тобой монстр, словно пробуя эти слова на вкус. И снова его фирменная улыбка.

–  Я тебя тоже, - отвечаешь с придыханием, нежно целуя Ползунчика. Он почти задерживает дыхание, прежде чем ответить, а в следующую секунду хихикнуть.

–  Весело! Весело! – Мистер Ползующий смеется, прижимаясь к тебе лбом, и ты готова провести так вечность.

Арт принадлежит художнице:

[nana-mania]

"PAIN FORGET?" he helps you forget your pain..

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : mr. chopped

࿐*ೃ fandom : homicipher

࿐*ೃ extra : fem! reader, fluff to nsfw

࿐*ೃ trigger warning : nsfw content ahead!

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ THE weight on your stomach woke you, along with the faint sensation of something wet trickling through your shirt. Groggy from days of fever, you blinked away your sleepiness. Your throat ached, and your limbs felt like lead, but none of that mattered when you opened your eyes and found yourself face-to-face with a familiar sight.

Mr. Chopped was set on your tummy, his round head tilted forward, and—oh. He was crying. Actual tears streamed down his cheeks, his hair slightly dishevelled, as though he'd been too distraught to fix it before coming here.

“Ah-” he wailed dramatically, his voice high-pitched as if relieved. “You wake—” His lips trembled, and he broke into loud, theatrical sobs. “Miss you!”

“Mr. Chopped?” Your voice came out hoarse. You reached up to rub your eyes, as though that might make the absurd sight before you make more sense. But no—he was still there, his tiny form as vibrant and unsettling as ever. “How...you come up?”

Instead of answering, he scooted closer—well, as much as a head sitting on your stomach could scoot—and nudged his face against your hand. His skin was cool to the touch, smooth but eerily lifelike, and the sensation made you shiver. “You left me!” he accused, voice muffled by another sniffle. “Gone long. Me worried..”

“I—I was sick,” you croaked, still processing the situation. Your hand instinctively moved to cradle his face, lifting him from your stomach. “I’m sorry. Never want worry you.”

His eyes gleamed with tears as he stared up at you. “I cried, a lot. Many nights. Miss you so much.” He sniffled again, dramatic as ever, and buried his face in your chest.

You hesitated for a moment before hugging him close. The weight of his head in your arms was bizarre—heavy, yet not quite solid. His hair tickled your chin as you murmured, “I’m here now. I’m fine.”

“Don't leave again. Me sad.” he demanded, pulling back just enough to glare at you.

“I promise,” you said softly, stroking his hair to soothe him. “Me won't leave you. But.. how you come here?”

He sniffed, then brightened. “White hair help.” He grinned proudly, the motion somehow unsettling without a neck to support it. “He kind. Ask me, take care of you.”

“Mr. Silvair?” You smiled. You forgot how oddly close these two were.

“No more white hair. Me, only me here!” Mr. Chopped interrupted, puffing up his cheeks since you were smiling while thinking of Mr. Silvair.

You bit back a laugh at his sudden shift in mood. “Why? Jealous?”

“Yes. I want comfort from you.”

Smiling despite yourself, you brushed your thumb against his cheek. His skin felt startlingly real. “Alright, Mr. Chopped. How make you happy?”

His eyes widened, glinting with childlike delight. “Oh, oh!” He leaned in, practically pressing his face to yours. “Head pets, kisses, carry me— anything!”

You laughed. “Demanding as always.” Though, you couldn’t help but oblige, pulling him close once more. His hair was soft beneath your fingers, a startling contrast to the macabre reality of his existence. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, murmuring, “Sorry for worry you.”

For a moment, he melted against you, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. But then he wriggled again, his lips pulling into a pout. “Not enough. More, more.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What more?”

He huffed, his cheeks puffing out. "Kiss - Here.” He tilted his head—literally—toward you, puckering up his lips.

You hesitated, unsure whether to laugh or sigh. But the earnestness in his gaze—however absurd—made your decision for you. With a soft chuckle, you leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. They were unexpectedly warm, softer than you expected, and the sensation left you both amused and slightly flustered.

When you pulled back, his entire face was flushed, his eyes wide with giddy delight. “Perfect! Me, so happy!” he squealed.

“I'm glad,” you said, watching him affectionately.

You set Mr. Chopped down back to your lap, grinning from ear to ear. “You feel better?" The question caught you off guard, his inquisitive gaze locking onto yours.

You nodded, but a wry smile tugged at your lips. “Still tired, though.” 

He stayed quiet for a moment, his expression shifting as if deep in thought. Then, out of nowhere, a mischievous smirk curled onto his lips—a grin that sent a jolt of both intrigue and caution through you. 

“Me, can help. Pain forget.” he declared, his tone playful yet laced with an odd seriousness that made you raise an eyebrow. 

“Forget...?” you echoed, blinking at him. “What do you mean?” 

His smirk widened, and he shifted in your lap, his round frame wobbling slightly as he leaned closer. “Trust me.” His voice was sing-song, a hint of giddiness creeping into it. “Spread legs.” 

The request made you freeze, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What?” 

“You heard!” he chirped, tilting his head with an almost innocent air, though his grin betrayed him. “Spread legs. Trust.” 

Caught between embarrassment and curiosity, you could guess what he was planning but kept quiet. Finally, with a shy nod, you shifted on the bed, moving your legs slightly apart. 

“There,” you said. “But...what are you—” 

He had positioned himself between your legs so his face was directly in front of you; your heat especially. His grin widened. 

“You trust me,” he said, his tone oddly sweet. “Good. Now...relax.” 

Your pulse quickened as you watched him. Mr. Chopped ripped apart your panties with his teeth, eating the fabric in process. You gasped when the cold air brushed against your sensitive folds.

"Ah- hah-" you covered your mouth in embarrassment as you felt a tongue caressing your clit. Tilting your head up, you stared at the ceiling, face heating up. 

Mr. Chopped was too curious and adventurous for his own good. The first time he discovered he could pleasure you despite lacking a body, he took every chance he could to fulfill his sinful desire.

"Mhm," the noise escaped your mouth, fingers tangling in his locks. He chuckled, enjoying the noise you made because of him. He nibbled on your clit, making you bit back a moan.

"Taste good," Mr. Chopped murmured in fascination. "You taste good. Want taste you everyday."

"Everyday is a bit-- Oh, God." You were unable to finish your sentence as his tongue already entered your wet folds, your slick walls clenching around him. He hummed when you bucked up your hips, desperate for more from him.

"Please, I can't." You begged, tears rolling down your face. "More, more."

The wet sounds of him eating you out echoed in the room, so loud that it turned you on, making it harder for you to control yourself. You could feel the climax nearing close. Gripping his hair, you moaned loudly before experiencing your release, fluid oozing out of you.

Mr. Chopped hummed in delightfulness, drinking your fluid to his heart's content (as if he had one). He pulled out his tongue, giving your clit one quick kiss before he tilted his head up, staring at you with his cute eyes.

"Pain forget?" He asked excitedly, like a puppy expecting a praise or reward. You managed a smile after you calmed down, cupping the back of his head and nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

"I'm glad!" His smile brightened, imaginary flowers floating around his head. You chuckled, ruffling his hair that was surprisingly soft and silky, despite the condition you both lived in.

"You love me?"

"Always, love you."

"Yay!"

Picking up Mr. Chopped, he nuzzled his face in your chest, blissfulness evident in the purr escaping his lips

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Under His Umbrella Pt.2

Mr. Scarletella found other humans that gave the most delightful screams. Running and tripping all over themselves to get away from him. 

Wasn’t this the normal reaction after all? 

So why was he thinking about that human who did not scream? 

Why did you not scream? 

And why did all this time pass and you still floated through his mind? 

Curiosity and boredom was why the next rainy day he found himself back at that open field with a few houses. This time when he teleported to the house, he saw a human dragging another human by what little hair she had.

The one being dragged was familiar to him. He watched you struggle as the other human attached you to the house once again, yelling and screaming at you.  Mr. Scarletella heard that human striking you from where he was standing. 

Only when that other human had migrated into the house, did he glitch in and out. 

“Hello!” he said, leaning down at you. 

You jumped when you heard his voice. At first you scrambled away but only when you turned and saw that umbrella creature did you relax, “It’s you?” 

Ah, so you weren’t going to scream this time either?  

Mr. Scarletella saw you relaxed once you saw it was him. You recognized him then. 

“Hello.”  Mr. Scarletella repeated. 

You cocked a head at him. 

“Hello.”

Tentatively you opened your mouth and tried to repeat what he said, “H-h-he-lo.” 

 Mr. Scarletella’s grin widened a touch, “Hello.”

You couldn’t help the snicker, “Hello?”  

 Mr. Scarletella grin widened, “Hello. You scared?” 

You frowned. You got the greeting but not much else. 

 Mr. Scarletella pointed to himself, “Me.” Then he pointed at you, “You.” 

After a few rounds, you caught on and repeated pointing first to yourself then to him, “Me. You.” 

 Mr. Scarletella nodded, “Good.” 

You let out a violent shiver followed by a cough.  Mr. Scarletella frowned. Why did you seem worse than the last time he saw you? Absently he placed his umbrella over your head, blocking out the heavier drops of rain. 

You slowly became aware of the fact that rain wasn’t being dumped upon you. Gazing upward, you saw the umbrella over you. Your eyes trailed back over to Mr. Scarletella who was watching you. 

You gazed up at him, “Thank you.” 

 Mr. Scarletella cocked his head. You repeat yourself. He thought he might have had an inkling so he said, “Grateful. You grateful?” 

You thought about it a second before slowly nodding. You were guessing maybe he was repeating your word in his language. 

“Grateful.”  Mr. Scarletella pointed to you, “You grateful?” 

You pointed at yourself, “Me grateful.” 

 Mr. Scarletella grin pulled once again, “Good.” 

—

You were slowly beginning to be convinced that Mr. Scarletella wasn’t a figment of your imagination. Perhaps he really was some entity from some far off place, from the other side. You had no clue why he kept visiting you but you were grateful. He usually appeared on rainy days but sometimes in the dead of a still night he would appear as well. 

But you were never afraid. 

Why would you be? 

He was a boon in these troubled times. 

You learned more of his language, whispering words back to him under the cover of night. Sometimes you had a hard time translating what you wanted to say and would giggle. He would giggle back to you. Like a couple of school kids, you’d shush him, your eyes darting around. You didn’t want to wake up the house. That would only lead to more pain for you. 

Mr. Scarletella followed your wandering gaze as it darted all over until his eye dropped to your hand hovering over his mouth. He didn’t remember the last time someone willing got this close to him. He could work out that you were just trying to quiet him. He had gotten a bit rowdier than normal in his excitement. He could feel the heat of your hand inches from him. He barely paid attention when you looked back at him, such was his focus. 

Only when you pulled your hand back, did his dart out and grip yours. 

Your breath caught. You hadn’t expected that reaction. His hand was a bit chilled, yet held a warmth like fuzz running over your hand. It was a sensation you had never felt before. 

His thumb ran over your knuckles in a curiously intimate gesture. It had been ages since someone touched you without the intention to hurt. The red creature lifted your hand, “Hand.” 

You were half distracted so it took you a moment making him repeat himself, “Ah, h-hand?” 

“Hm. Hand. Hand touch.” 

Now he was saying something else. You weren’t sure what. Your confusion showed.  Mr. Scarletella pulled his hand away quickly but you had no time to mourn the loss as he poked your hand with his, “Hand touch.” He pulled away before gripping your hand once more, “Hand touch. You understand?” 

“.....touch? Hand touch?” You repeated, as you released his hand before clasping his. 

You could see Mr. Scarletella’s lone inky eye almost lit up as his mouth pulled wider into a grin, “Good! Hand touch. Hand touch, good?” 

“Hm. Hand touch, good.”

“You like?” 

Another word you did not know. You tried to mimic his word, “...ik-a…” 

 Mr. Scarletella frowned, “Like.”  

“What mean? You teach.”  

 Mr. Scarletella went still like static. How exactly was he supposed to teach such a word to you? He had no idea. Finally he shook his head, “No. It’s okay. Hand touch, good?” 

Ah, neither of you had released the other’s hand. 

You gave a shy smile, “Hand touch, good.” 

Part 3