#i could not stop thinking about this after drawing that

[prosypepper]

sensitive ft. toji fushiguro

to be as strong and high-spirited as you are, toji was definitely caught off-guard when he found you crying for the first time.

it didn’t happen on purpose, either. there was no sign as to why you’d be upset, you hadn’t told him anything all day that could even lead to you being so sad, sobbing hysterically into his pillow.

but that didn’t matter. all toji understood was that you were upset, sad, angry, something; and he needed to make it better. so there he stood, frozen in his tracks for a while, an unfamiliar pang in his chest at your cries—the sound alone almost upset him, for some reason.

you didn’t notice toji until he slid into bed behind you, easily scooping up your body in his arms and moving you around to rest on his chest, your arms still grasping the pillow. your cries got even harder for a second at the realization toji had you.

“hey, hey,” toji spoke, calmly, soft, “what’s wrong, babydoll?”

toji’s brows furrowed when you only sniffled and hyperventilated for a minute, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath—to no avail. if it wasn’t for you practically melting into his touch, he would’ve thought he was making the situation even worse.

“baby,” toji whispered, waiting for a moment before pressing your head into the middle of his chest, “breathe.” his palm ran over your head repeatedly, taking big, deep breaths of his own in hopes you’d follow after. he could feel your tears soaking through his shirt, making big, wet spots, but at that moment, he cared for nothing more than to make you feel better.

like magic, your breathing began to slow down, sniffles becoming less frequent, the clutch you had on the pillow softening. toji took a big sigh of relief at that. he held you like that for a solid fifteen minutes, gently rocking you back and forth with his body.

yet toji didn’t count the minutes, he just stayed. stayed until you stopped crying, until your breathing was back to normal, until there was no sign of woe in the room. he rested his chin atop your head for a little, stroking your arm with his fingertips.

“you okay?” toji asked, almost awkwardly, when obviously, you were not okay.

“mhm,” you hummed, eyes open and staring at the window next to your shared bed.

“hey,” toji repeated, drawing his head back, your sad, wet eyes attracted to his like magnets, “none of that. what’s wrong?” just the simple question caused tears to well up in your eyes again, but you blinked them away and sighed.

“don’t know,” you said, resting your head on his chest by yourself that time, “overwhelmed, i guess. and i watched a sad movie. everything jus’ got to me at once.”

toji frowned, knowing he had no idea that life was piling up on you—and he hadn’t done anything to help beforehand.

“‘m sorry, baby,” he apologized, pecking a kiss to the top of your head, “didn’t know you were so stressed.”

“it’s not your fault, toji,” you replied, nuzzling into his chest, “i just suck at communicating.”

“that makes two of us,” he paused, thinking deeply about what to say next, “you can tell me whatever. scream, cry, hit me, i don’t care.”

“toji, i’m not gonna hit you,” you giggled, a smile finally creeping on your face—the smile toji had been waiting for since he first saw you so upset.

and for once in his life, with you in his arms, toji thought he was doing something right.

[blueberry3241]

★彡 Nct dream reaction you just confessed to them

↷ Pairing : nct dream x reader ↷ Genre : Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life, Humor ↷ word count : 2,000 words

Disclaimer : This is an original work of fiction. All characters, settings, and story elements are my own creation. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. Please do not reproduce, distribute, or adapt this work without my explicit permission.

↝Mark

You had been holding onto your feelings for Mark for so long, and today, you finally decided to let them out. It wasn’t a grand confession, just the two of you sitting on a bench in the park, sipping iced coffee, when you blurted out, “Mark, I like you. Like, like like you.”

He choked on his drink, coughing as his eyes widened. “Wait… what?” He turned to face you fully, eyes scanning your face as if to confirm he wasn’t hearing things.

You sighed, your heart pounding. “I’ve liked you for a while now. I just— I thought you should know.”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Wow… okay. That’s… I mean— I wasn’t expecting this, at all.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground before meeting your eyes again.

There was a long pause before he grinned, that signature Mark Lee smile that made your heart race. “You’re serious? Like, really?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

A deep breath later, Mark exhaled a laugh. “That’s crazy… because I was literally just thinking about confessing to you.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “I thought I had more time to prepare something cooler than this, but… yeah. I like you too.” He reached out, hesitating before gently grabbing your hand. “Guess we’re really in this together now, huh?”

↝Renjun

Renjun was sketching at his desk when you decided to confess. His room smelled like paint and coffee, the soft hum of music playing in the background. You sat beside him, nervously picking at your sleeves.

“Renjun,” you started, voice quieter than usual.

“Hm?” He didn’t look up, too focused on the details of his drawing.

“I like you.”

His pencil stopped mid-stroke. Silence filled the room.

Slowly, he turned his head toward you, his face a mix of confusion and shock. “What?”

You swallowed. “I like you. A lot. I just… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

Renjun blinked at you, his lips parting slightly. He looked down at his sketchbook as if searching for answers in his own art. Then, with a small, nervous laugh, he finally met your gaze again.

“I— I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, rubbing his temple. His ears were red, and you could tell he was struggling to process everything. “You seriously like me?”

“Yes, Renjun,” you assured him, smiling a little at his flustered reaction. “I do.”

He covered his face with his hands, mumbling something under his breath before peeking at you through his fingers. “You’re gonna have to give me a minute. My heart wasn’t ready for this.”

You giggled, and after a deep breath, he put his hands down and gave you a small, shy smile. “You really just said that out of nowhere… But, um, yeah. I like you too. A lot.”

↝Jeno

You and Jeno had always been close, but you never knew how to bring up your feelings. It wasn’t until the two of you were playing video games at his dorm that you finally decided to confess.

During a break, you sighed, putting your controller down. “Jeno, I need to tell you something.”

He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

You took a deep breath. “I like you. More than a friend.”

For a moment, Jeno just stared at you, blinking as if processing your words. Then, to your surprise, he smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait—what?”

Jeno chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “I had a feeling, but I wanted to see when you’d finally say it.”

You groaned, throwing a pillow at him, which he easily caught. “And you didn’t think to say anything first?”

He shrugged, looking at you with soft eyes. “I was waiting for you.” Then, after a beat, he reached over, ruffling your hair before letting his fingers linger against your cheek. “For the record, I like you too.”

Your face heated up at the way he was looking at you, his expression gentle yet teasing.

“So… does this mean I finally get to take you on a date?” he asked, smirking again.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was soaring. “Yeah, Jeno. It does.”

↝Haechan

You and Haechan were alone at the practice room, waiting for the others. He was messing with his phone while you paced nervously before blurting out, “I like you, Haechan.”

He looked up instantly, his eyes wide with surprise. For the first time, he was speechless.

Then, slowly, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “Wait, say that again?”

You groaned. “I like you. Don’t make me say it twice.”

He leaned back, smirking. “Wow. I always knew I was irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes. “Forget it, I take it back.”

Haechan quickly sat up, grabbing your wrist before you could walk away. His usual playful look softened as he said, “Hey, hey. I’m just messing with you.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Then stop teasing.”

He chuckled before looking at you seriously. “I like you too, you know. Have for a while.”

You blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

He nodded, a genuine smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. I just didn’t think you’d ever say it first.” Then, tilting his head playfully, he added, “Does this mean I can call you mine now?”

Your face turned bright red as he laughed.

↝Jaemin

Jaemin and you were watching a movie at his place, sharing a blanket. The warm atmosphere gave you the courage to finally confess.

“Jaemin,” you whispered.

He hummed, turning his head slightly toward you. “Yeah?”

You took a deep breath. “I really like you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, simply staring at you. Then, a slow, bright smile took over his face. “You do?”

You nodded, feeling nervous.

Jaemin’s eyes softened as he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That makes me really happy. Because I like you too.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You do?”

He laughed, his dimples showing. “Of course, silly. How could I not?”

Without hesitation, he intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand gently. “So, how does dinner tomorrow sound? I want to do this right.”

You smiled, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “I’d love that.”

↝Chenle

You and Chenle were in the middle of one of your usual playful arguments when you suddenly blurted out, “I like you.”

He froze mid-sentence, blinking. “What?”

You sighed, a little embarrassed. “I like you, okay?”

For a moment, he just stared. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing.

You pouted. “Why are you laughing?!”

He shook his head, grinning. “Because I was just about to say the same thing.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Chenle smirked. “Great minds think alike, huh?” Then, grinning wider, he added, “So, since we like each other, does this mean I get to make fun of you even more now?”

You groaned, but your heart was fluttering.

↝Jisung

When you confessed to Jisung, his entire face turned bright red.

“You… you like me?” he stuttered, eyes wide.

You nodded, feeling shy yourself.

Jisung covered his face, mumbling, “Oh my God, what do I do?”

You giggled. “Maybe say something?”

He peeked at you before shyly smiling. “I, um… I like you too.”

Your heart soared as you laughed. “Really?”

He nodded, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah… but now I have to figure out how to ask you out.”

You grinned. “Take your time.”

He smiled, cheeks still red. “I will.”

[madaqueue]

SCULPTOR'S DILEMMA

to love him is to remember him, to immortalize him in this moment, in his perfection, in his lust

pairing: veritas ratio x f!reader

themes/content: smut. there is no plot to this at all it’s literally just riding him idk there's like a little bit of thigh riding + jerking him off (wk: 1.4k)

a/n: 'i don't want to fuck this guy' <- guy who wrote 1k words about explicitly fucking this guy

Stone and statues could never compare, you think, to the planes of Veritas’s chest; more grand than any marble, more magnificent than any granite. He should be immortalized in this moment, in the heavy rise and fall of his ribs, the smooth planes beneath your fingers.

It took so little to get him here, too. Nothing more than a firm embrace (one he could break out of if he wanted to; he never wants to) and hushed words of, “You’re so beautiful, Veritas.”

He grumbled, as he often does when met with praise he doesn’t know what to do with, when it gets stuck in the gears of his mind and they struggle a bit more with each turn. But it’s an easy enough fix, at least for you, at least after all this time.

So, your lips carved a path down his throat, your fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt to give you more canvas to paint with your teeth and nails. An artist known only by your love for him, the only thing you could create; in every form, it finds itself: Veritas.

“May I show you, my love?” It’s whispered into his chest, into the divot of his sternum, a groove wide enough to hold it. “May I show you how beautiful you are?”

A momentary pause, and you're sure he's staring down at you, even if you can't see the picturesque gaze. “As you wish.”

You pretended to ignore the tremble in his voice, the shake within his hands as they came to rest upon your shoulders.

That’s the drawback of this brittleness: it’s all the easier to break.

So yes, it takes very little to get him bare and desperate, although he’d never call it that, even with one of your hands wrapped around his cock, aching and heavy as your hips draw the same pattern across his thigh. Instead, he’d let his sighs and stifled sounds and all the things that go unsaid speak for him, let the raging pulse and burning skin chisel their own meaning.

“Don’t tease,” he says, low and raspy and gods, what that voice does to you, the way it’s sweeter than any honey, riper than any fruit. You’d let it drip down your chin and onto your chest, peel it with careful fingers that are all too quick to turn ravenous.

“I’m not teasing,” you smile back, pulp held tight between your molars. You squeeze his length within your hand. “I’m just taking my time. What is it you always say, my dear? ‘Patience breeds success’?”

He scoffs - or rather, he attempts to scoff. But with the pitched-up sound doing little to convey its intended displeasure, it only makes you giggle.

“Aw, what’s wrong my love?” You offer him a look of innocence, one he rewards with a scowl.

“Just, mm, get on with it already.”

“Okay, okay,” you placate, palms resting on his pecs, steadying, despite the blooming smile that leaks sun beams. “As you wish.”

Your hips strain as you adjust, no longer centering you upon his thigh; as you rise, the muscled skin glimmers under the low lights, proof of your arousal left behind. It was a pretty thing to grind on, nearly enough friction to get the job done, you suppose, but it was never truly your goal - not when his cock lies so beautifully against his stomach.

His own desire sparkles from the tip, pearls of precum dribbling down his length, a worthy reaction to having watched you ‘tease,’ as he so fondly called it. The hand that had been slowly, gently, ever-so graciously stroking his length comes to a stop, instead guiding his tip to your entrance.

“Is this what you desire, my dear?”

This part is always fun, to make him flustered, make him verbalize those ‘filthy desires,’ as he’s so prone to calling them. ‘Don’t be crass,’ he often says when you push it, make him beg a tad too explicitly, but he always manages to choke the words out nonetheless.

“Obviously.” The words likely should have a bite, if they came out as intended, but with the flush painted down his torso and up to his ears, it reads as rather endearing; you hum, and watch his cheeks redden further.

As you sink down, your gaze never leaves his - not even when his eyelashes flutter, not even when his chest stutters, not even when your back arches from how he fills you and your hips nearly pause with the overwhelming sensation of it all. Each agonizing centimeter as he goes further inside your pulsing core, a silent code only he could dare to understand, one ripe with hunger and a carnal need he'd dare to call primitive, if he was any less affected by it.

But finally, finally, you rest atop his pelvis, flush and full and somehow still aching.

The first roll of your hips is languid, measured, while you’re still cognizant enough to hold yourself together. It earns you a warbled groan from Veritas, whose fists have begun to dig into the sheets. Cute, you think, the way he’s trying to maintain his composure, even with the sweat beading down his temple and his cock twitching inside you.

His eyes, meanwhile, struggle to land on a single destination. They roam your face, your neck, your chest, flitting across the inviting space of your body as though he can’t quite make up his mind where to focus. Ah, indecision, the paralysis of a man who can’t stop thinking. But no matter - you can help (you’ll always be there to help).

With your hands placed behind you on his thighs, you lean back, an arch to your spine that lets your head fall. Up, your hips stir, and you whine as his cock is dragged from your warmth.

Through the bottom of your lashes, you catch it: those sunset-rich eyes set their heated gaze on where the two of you are joined, the growing expanse of his skin that glistens from where it had been inside you. His pupils dilate, an ever-expanding eclipse, as he silently watches you lower yourself onto him. This time, you let a moan warm the air until you feel him in your chest.

Oh, and he’s beautiful, lungs heaving and heavier than stone, watching you fuck yourself on him, watching you take him so perfectly again, and again, and again. You’re making a show of it, he knows you are, with the way you refuse to look away, but he can’t bring himself to object.

Veritas is, though, a proud man. Perhaps that’s why his teeth sink into his lower lip until it blooms the same red that’s now swallowed in his irises.

But that won’t do.

“Veritas,” you say, more of a breath, what with the air forced from your lungs with each self-imposed thrust. “My love, let me hear you.”

A flicker of attention to your face, and you almost wonder if he can truly understand you behind the glassy sheen to his eyes, the weak grip on the bedding. When he makes no move to free the flesh from his canines, you lean forward.

A thumb to his cheek. His jaw. His lower lip.

Ah. Finally, he lets the weight of your skin coax his mouth open. You wish there was a sculptor that could capture his beauty in this moment, the oblivious ecstasy of a chronically attentive man; to see him lose himself so entirely, to trust you in his heedless pleasure, is the most magnificent thing, you think.

“There you go, my darling,” you hum.

And perhaps it’s the words, the praise he desperately claims not to need, or perhaps it’s the way you sink down even deeper, slower, sweeter, but the moan he releases is thicker than gold. You hadn’t known he could make such an exquisite sound, nor make it for so long, but it must fully empty the air clamoring to his breath as it spills and spills from his throat.

That is the thing about Veritas, a man of constancy and contradictions (perhaps that is another one in and of itself, too): how could one be so solid, more stable than stone, and yet so alive? The sound he makes vibrates low between your ribs, down your spine, to where the two of you are connected, humming with vitality.

You clench around him, and he twitches inside you again. A living, breathing picture of beauty, one no statue could ever dream to capture.

[tenessee-walker]

ur writing is sooo good 😭❤️ pretty please could you write some hcs of arthur with a s/o who gets jealous easily…like sometimes it’s hard to watch your man lend a hand to every damsel in distress 🧍

I get pissed when people like TOUCH my man like WHAT THE FUCK stop grabbing his thighs u RAT stop TOUCHING MY MAN UP other than that lit if your friends, chill sure

nice!arthur who can’t help but be kind to any woman in trouble because, hell, he was raised better than to leave someone stranded.

nice!arthur who tips his hat at every lady he meets, helps them onto carriages, carries their bags, and offers a hand when they stumble. Not because he’s flirtin’—just ‘cause it’s the right thing to do.

nice!arthur whose very sweet girlfriend absolutely hates it.

nice!arthur who don’t even realize how jealous she gets ‘til one day, she’s stomping around camp, slamming pots down in the mess tent, mumbling under her breath about how he’s “so damn helpful” all the time.

nice!arthur who just blinks at her, confused as hell, while she huffs, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like a gunslinger ready to draw.

nice!arthur who only really gets it when he helps Mary-Beth fix her saddle and turns around to find his girl staring daggers at the poor woman, arms crossed so tight she might actually snap in half.

nice!arthur who, once he figures it out, finds it kinda adorable.

nice!arthur who has to hold back a smile when she clings to his arm for the rest of the day, shooting the stink eye at any woman who so much as breathes in his direction.

nice!arthur who finally sits her down, tucks a finger under her chin, and tilts her face up so she has to look at him when he says, “Sweetheart, you really think I’d wanna be with anyone but you?”

nice!arthur who watches her cheeks go red before she huffs, still trying to act mad.

nice!arthur who kisses her silly until she forgets why she was jealous in the first place.

nice!arthur who tries not to make her jealous anymore, but, well… old habits die hard.

nice!arthur who immediately backtracks when he hears her scoff behind him after he helps Abigail carry water buckets.

nice!arthur who pulls her into his lap, right there in the middle of camp, and mutters against her ear, “Ain’t a girl in the whole damn world who could turn my head, darlin’.”

nice!arthur who just grins when she melts, ‘cause deep down, he loves when she gets all jealous and pouty over him.

[illumity33]

Drawn-out Argument

tags: hospital au, kunikuzushi x gn!reader, they're both kids here, fluff AN: i've actually written a few drafts for this au a few months back but I suddenly gained motivation to rewrite and finish one of my few drafts. I'll probably start a masterlist for this series soon(still trying get used to posting on tumblr), so comment if you're interested to be tagged!

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The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and clean linen, the kind of sterile scent that clung to everything, making it impossible to forget where they were. The only sounds filling the space were the occasional beeping of medical monitors and the faint murmur of nurses outside, their voices softened by the thick walls. The days had started blurring together—marked by meal trays with tasteless food, checkups, and the sheer frustration of not being able to go anywhere.

But in the past week or so, something had shifted.

Kunikuzushi still thought hospitals sucked. He still hated sitting in this wheelchair, his legs wrapped in heavy casts, the weight of them making him feel trapped. But the other kid in the bed next to his? They made things a little less unbearable. Not that he’d ever admit that.

They weren’t exactly friends. At least, he wouldn’t call it that. But they talked. More than he expected to, anyway. Sometimes about serious things, sometimes about completely pointless nonsense—anything to fill the dragging hours.

Like right now.

“I’m just saying,” Kunikuzushi muttered, arms crossed, “if I had to choose between being a cat or a dog, I’d be a cat. No question.”

The kid in the bed across from him blinked. Then squinted. “…You? A cat?”

“Yeah.”

“No way. You’re, like…a little chihuahua.”

His eyes snapped toward them, immediately offended. “Excuse me?”

(Name) grinned, propping themselves up on their elbows. “You’re always mad, always making noise, and if you could run around right now, you’d probably be nipping at people’s ankles.”

“That’s not—” He scowled, looking down at his hands on instinct. “I’m not even shaking—”

“You are shaking.”

“That’s because I’m angry.”

(Name) just laughed. “See? Chihuahua energy.”

Kunikuzushi groaned loudly, tilting his head back against the pillow. “I regret ever talking to you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

They just smiled knowingly. “Then stop talking to me.”

“…No.”

They chuckled, and the conversation faded into a comfortable lull. Kunikuzushi tapped his fingers against the armrest of his wheelchair, eyes flickering toward the ceiling.

Then (name)’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Hey,” they said lazily, pointing toward the bedside table. More specifically, the small leather-bound book resting on it. “What do you even write in that?”

His eyes flicked toward his journal, then back at them, immediately narrowing. “It’s not a diary.”

“I never said it was.”

“You were thinking it.”

“…So it is a diary.”

Kunikuzushi shot them a glare. “It’s a journal.”

“Right. So can I draw in it?”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s mine.”

(Name) groaned dramatically, flopping back against their pillow. “C’mon, I’m bored. You won’t even let me read it—at least let me draw something in it.”

Kunikuzushi crossed his arms, giving them a skeptical look. The idea of letting someone touch his journal felt…strange. Like handing over a piece of his brain for inspection.

But after a long pause—and an equally long sigh—he reached for it.

“Fine,” he muttered, flipping to a blank page before shoving it toward them. “Don’t ruin it.”

(Name) grinned in triumph, taking the book and snatching a pen from the tray table beside them. They immediately got to work, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

Kunikuzushi watched from the corner of his eye, arms still crossed, as they carefully sketched out two figures. It didn’t take long to tell what they were drawing—one was a kid with an IV drip in their arm, grinning brightly. The other stood next to them, scowling with his arms crossed.

It wasn’t hard to guess who was who.

He huffed. “Really?”

“What?”

“Why do I look emotionally constipated?”

(Name) grinned. “Because you always are”

He scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he rested his cheek against his palm and watched as they added little details—his sharp eyebrows, his messy hair, the slight puff of his cheeks like he was pouting.

After a moment, (name) leaned back, tilting their head. “Hmm. I don’t like how I drew myself.”

Kunikuzushi raised an eyebrow. “Looks fine to me.”

“No, I look weird.” They grabbed an eraser and hovered it over their own face.

He glanced at the condensation on their drink sitting on the tray table, some of it dripping onto the page earlier, though neither of them had noticed.

The second they dragged the eraser over it, the ink smudged.

(Name) froze.

Kunikuzushi blinked.

“…Why do I look like I’m dissolving?” they finally asked.

Silence.

Then Kunikuzushi slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. “Pfft—”

“This is terrible,” they whined.

He snatched the journal back before they could do any more damage. “Too late. It’s staying.”

(Name) gasped, reaching out for it. “Wait, let me redo it—”

“Nope.” He shut the book with finality, tucking it back onto the table. “You ruined it. It’s permanent now.”

They groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re the worst.”

Kunikuzushi just smirked, arms behind his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

-

Kunikuzushi didn’t immediately look at the drawing again after reclaiming his journal. He had spent most of the afternoon keeping it out of (name)’s reach, just in case they got any ideas about trying to "fix" it.

But later, when they weren’t paying attention, he cracked it open.

His gaze flickered over the sketch—his own tiny, scowling face, the little details they had added like the messy strands of his hair and the way his arms were crossed, as if he were mid-complaint. (Name) was standing next to him, beaming with an IV drip attached to their arm. And then there was—

Kunikuzushi squinted.

Something wasn’t right.

He flipped the book around and jabbed a finger at the drawing. “Why am I standing?”

(Name) blinked, then tilted their head. “Huh?”

“In the drawing,” he said, pointing again. “You gave me casts, but I’m standing.”

There was a beat of silence as they stared at their own work.

Then they shrugged. “Wheelchairs are hard to draw.”

Kunikuzushi let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down his face. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You just skipped that part? My entire situation? Just—poof, nonexistent?” He flailed a hand dramatically toward his actual wheelchair. “That’s, like, the most important part!”

“I dunno, you look fine standing,” (name) said with an amused smile, resting their chin in their hand. “Maybe it’s foreshadowing. Y’know, for when you finally get out of that thing.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Well, you can't know if you don't try!”

Kunikuzushi groaned, shutting the book again with a thump and holding it to his chest as if protecting it from further artistic inaccuracies. “I can’t believe this. I trusted you.”

(Name) stifled a laugh. “You’ll live.”

He just lets out a scoff.

Still, despite all his complaints, he found himself flipping back to the drawing later, staring at their scribbled figures for much longer than he meant to.

He traced a finger over the smudged ink of (name)’s face, then over his own legs—completely intact in the drawing, as if nothing had ever happened.

And for some reason, he didn’t really hate the idea.

[macabr3-barbi3]

Hex: Smile Like You Mean It

helloooooo again everyone! A HUGE thank you to the beloved @darling-dovey for this request from the International Women's Day event- your support means the world to me, and I hope you enjoy this second part! ᶦᵗ ᵐᶦᵍʰᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᶦⁿˢᵖᶦʳᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ³ ˡᵒˡ

Tags: mentions of murder, blood and gore typical of the game; the tentacles are Involved™️this time; vaginal sex; Eldritch Alastor; monsterfucking basically LOL; belly bulge; overstimulation; hint of softness 👀

You can find part one of Hex here, and if you are also a fan of the idea of Hazbin x Dead By Daylight you can check out the Hooked on Hazbin masterlist from last Halloween!

You can’t be in the police department now without thinking of him. Sneaking through the hallways trying to avoid the killer of the hour, you always seem to freeze like a deer in headlights in the room where Alastor had laid you across the desk. It had gotten you a knife or an axe in the back more than once, but you couldn’t help the way the memories came rushing back; the static of Alastor’s voice in your ears, his clawed fingers digging into your hips, the pleasurable tension in your body as you rocked in his lap. 

It was something to cling to in the everlasting darkness that was your existence. The rest of the killers were more of the same as usual- running, hiding, repairing, dying on an endless loop like a hamster on a wheel. Between trials, in the blissful quiet of the clearing with the campfire before you, you could close your eyes and think of Alastor, look forward to the next time the Entity granted you a moment alone.

She hadn’t yet. You had seen him in trials since that day, but he didn’t treat you any differently; he still chased and slashed you and the others, sacrificing the men at every opportunity, letting the women just barely escape with their lives. You kept your promise and said nothing to the others about his tendency to spare, making sure to keep up the act of being terrified despite knowing that you would always be returned to the fire. You even told a little lie when Jane floated the idea of Alastor taking it easy on the women, finally observant as you had been. You denied it, told them that it wasn’t possible that he always let the women go, because he had sacrificed you before. Ever with a flair for the dramatic, you exaggerated a tale of a trial that you had been the last one out of, descriptive in your retelling of how Alastor’s blade had torn you apart, the pain blinding and deep before it had blissfully ended.

What had really happened was he had slashed at you and hit home, and you hadn’t mended yourself in time to stop from bleeding out after the rest of your team had been sacrificed. But they didn’t need to know that.

Thankfully, he was generous enough with non-lethal blows that the rest of the ladies agreed that he couldn’t possibly be showing them mercy, and the matter was dropped. Lying didn’t sit right with you, but it was unavoidable in order to keep up your end of the deal that you had made- a small price to pay for the promise of a bit of pleasure amongst the horrors. 

With the trials you had been having lately, you hoped that your next private encounter with Alastor would be soon. There was something strange in the air amongst the killers- one by one they were somehow getting stronger, faster. More lethal and terrifying than they had ever been before, sporting extra limbs, sharper weapons, larger forms. Like the Entity was giving them more power somehow, drawing from the fog, from the fear of the survivors to make everything that much worse. You had died in your last eight trials; on hook, speared by the entity when you couldn’t find the hatch in time, a particularly gruesome encounter with the Dredge that had haunted what little sleep you managed to find time for. You hadn’t heard anything from the others about Alastor getting any stronger, but you knew it was just a matter of time before the privilege was extended to him as well.

The world is too quiet when you arrive in the Red Forest, the crack of a tree branch behind you alerting you to Bill’s presence. He offers you a quick salute before he’s off, the quiet sounds of a generator following his departure. The temple looms before you, huge and ominous as the rain strikes it in a steady rhythm, and you allow yourself the briefest moment of rest before you turn and head in the opposite direction that you had seen Bill go.

You spot Jonah, his larger frame poorly concealed behind a log as he sneaks closer to the Killer Shack to work on the generator there, and stumble upon Jake cracking a chest open close to one of the exit gates. He gives you a little wave as you continue on, not quite sure what you’re looking for yet- some sign of a Hex totem maybe, or an item that would tell you who the killer for the trial was.

But there were no axes or knives in the lockers to indicate the Huntress or Trickster; no creepy little puppets sitting around to give the Pig away; no weird cases that begat flame turrets for the Xenomorph or strange holes in the ground for the Demogorgon. That didn’t take away the possibility of one of the stealthier killers like Ghost Face or the Shape, and you found yourself looking over your shoulder as you got closer and closer to the temple.

The sound of the rain fades as you come slowly down the steps, still nervous at the lack of any sign of the killer but thankful for the peace. You hear a generator pop in the distance, followed by an explosion as one of your teammates fumbles their own wires in response, and only then do you hear the faintest hint of jazz echoing from the catacombs below.

Alastor.

The music gets louder quickly, and you fight your initial instinct to hide as he appears at the top of the stairs, looking just as surprised to see you as you were seeing him. “Well! What a coincidence, seeing you here,” he says, that smile of his growing wider as he approaches. “Shouldn’t you be off doing a generator?”

“I am,” you defend, even though you had been doing no such thing. “I was- going for the one in the catacombs. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Hmm, I see. I suppose while I have you I may as well gather some intelligence. Tell me, what teammates have joined you in this lovely realm?”

You glance through the nearest archway, ensuring that no one would see you casually conversing with the Radio Demon. Casually betraying your friends. “Jonah,” you say anyway. “And… Jake and Bill.” And when his eyes light up you realize belatedly that you’re the only female in the group- you’d been so distracted by the quiet, the false peace of the realm that you hadn’t thought about it. Once the guys were gone you would be left alone with him, and the potential of a repeat performance of the last time you had been together like that makes your face flush. “I won’t tell you where they are,” you add, more for your own benefit than anything else; it makes it feel less like stabbing them yourself, knowing that he would come after them, sacrifice them to the Entity while you would get off scot free and possibly with an orgasm as well if the timing was right.

“How convenient- I confess I’ve been thinking it was high time that the Entity allowed us another moment together.” He steps closer to you, a clawed finger under your chin and tipping your face up to look at him- his gaze is heated, dragging his eyes down your trembling frame. “Perhaps we take advantage of the imminent solitude.”

You pull back, taking a couple of steps and looking frantically around for anyone that might be looking into the temple. He laughs in amusement, pulling you back in with an arm around your waist so that you fall into his chest. Another generator pops, this one a bit closer- probably the one Bill was working on by himself- and Alastor sighs heavily. “I assure you, no one will see us,” he murmurs, leaning down to breathe the words into your ear. “Your little friends are busy- my shadow has assured me. I suppose I should give our Master what she wants, so she doesn’t deny us what we want.”

He licks a stripe up the side of your throat, and it takes everything in you not to moan at the sensation- that alone was worth the horrible trials lately, the knowledge of letting your friends die so you could have more. A whimper still escapes you, once that makes him huff out a laugh when he finally pulls away and releases you. “Go on and do your generator,” he advises with a condescending pat on the head, “just in case someone evades me for a while. But I expect to find you waiting for me right there when I’ve sacrificed your team.” He points to the steps that lead up and out of the temple, and you nod in agreement before he simply melts into the shadows.

You take a deep breath before descending, hoping that none of the men came this way until you had calmed your racing heart and got your heated face under control. Your hands are shaky when you find the generator and start fiddling with the wires, managing to avoid making them blow up in your face. You hear one more generator go off moments before your own does, and you know that Alastor is giving your teammates a run for their money through the forest. You wonder if he’s been given the special treatment that so many of the others had, if his claws are sharper, his blade more deadly as he hunted them down. He was already so strong; any kind of addition to that and the survivors wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

Already, you think it’s strange that you haven’t hear the telltale sound of someone being sacrificed- Alastor had been gone for a while, and he typically made fast work of his sacrifices. He was calculated and efficient in a way that many of the killers were not, and you find yourself curious about what was taking him so long. Surely the guys wouldn’t have been able to run him for so long, not with his long limbed reach and ability to travel through shadow. You make your way slowly back upstairs a few minutes after finishing your generator, wondering what was taking so long that Alastor wouldn’t have sacrificed at least one of them.

Your question is at least partially answered when you arrive on the main level to find Alastor waiting for you- casually leaned against the gilded archway and covered in blood, inspecting his fingernails as they drip, drip, dripped crimson to the stone floor. He looks up when he hears your breath stutter, and his smile is dangerous when he aims it at you. “I don’t like to be kept waiting, you know,” he says conversationally. “Our time together is limited as it is- we wouldn’t want to waste it.”

He starts stripping his suit jacket off, and the baring of his forearms makes you lose your train of thought for a moment before you remember yourself. “I was- waiting for the sound,” you explain, watching him fold the jacket and set it carefully on the ground near him. “You know, when someone gets sacrificed. I didn’t hear it- I didn’t want to risk someone finding me while I was waiting for you and getting suspicious.”

Canned laughter emits from his chest, like something you would hear on an old TV show. “What little faith you have in me,” he laughs, and beckons you closer. He smells like blood as you approach, like rain and foliage and gunpowder as he guides you gently to your knees in the middle of the archway, cushioned slightly by his jacket. “I’ve been bringing a special offering into the trials with me- to show the Entity the brutality that I’m still capable of, even with allowing me to spare some. You would not have been alerted of their deaths but rest assured- we’re quite alone.”

He had entered with a Mori, then. A rare commodity among killers, the survivors were intimately familiar with the item that allowed them to be slaughtered without the need for sacrifice. You’d never seen Alastor’s Mori, but judging from people’s lack of willingness to talk about it, it couldn’t have been a quick and easy death for your teammates.

He drapes himself over your back, and your heart beats nearly in your throat as he runs his hands over your body, fingers settling over your throat and coaxing your head backwards to rest on his shoulder. His erection is heavy against your ass, hot even through the layers of clothing soaked in blood. His free hand slides up under your dress and shoves your panties down around your thighs before gathering the extra fabric in his fist- he releases your neck to work at his own belt, and the frantic energy of his movements makes heat pool low in your stomach, a soft whimper escaping you when you feel the bare flesh of his cock rest against you.

Alastor reaches forward, slipping his fingers delicately between your legs to find you wet and ready, starting right off with two fingers that stretch you wonderfully. “So responsive,” he says quietly, his voice echoing in the hollow chamber of the temple. “So eager for me. We’ll feed Her well today, won’t we?” You nod frantically from your position on his shoulder, and he thrusts his fingers harder inside you, striking the sweet spot inside you with unerring accuracy that makes your eyes roll. “Won’t we?” He repeats with an emphasis, and you’re barely aware of the words that come out in response- only that it must appease him, since he adds another finger and grins against your shoulder.

The motion of his hand as he fingers you provides delicious pressure against your clit, and you’re already teetering on the edge when he releases his hold on your dress to grip your hip, tilting you forward enough that he can withdraw his fingers and press the tip of his cock into you, a slow and steady drag that makes your voice warble when you cry out for him. He bends you over, both hands now holding you firmly to his body while he fucks you, the sound of slapping skin audible even over his harsh panting in your ear. He’s almost mindless with it, heavy, even thrusts that force unrestrained sounds from between your lips. Your first orgasm is a smooth, easy thing when he returns to your clit, flicking his talented fingers until you’re barreling headfirst into shuddering pleasure.

Alastor stops suddenly as you come down, one of his ears flicking against your cheeks as he tilts his head as though listening for something. You take a much needed gulp of air, swallowing hard to moisten your throat, dry from noises that had been being pulled from you. He doesn’t move- doesn’t breathe, his chest still against your back. “A- Alastor?” You venture quietly, and he still doesn’t move, hips stalled with his cock firmly inside you- you can hear the faint drip of your release hitting the stone floor and your face flushes in embarrassment. “Are you- is everything alright?”

Another beat of silence before he finally says, “yes, darling- everything is fine,” and drags slowly back from the heat of your cunt, bucking forward with force again. His rhythm resumes a little slower, the slide of hot skin making your arousal burn as he continues.

He moans behind you, loud and shocking in its volume, and before you can try to look over your shoulder at him he’s fucking you faster, clutching you to his body with an arm across your chest like some sort of lifeline- his other hand returns to its place loosely held around your throat. “Thank you, thank you,” he’s muttering into your skin, and you don’t get a chance to ask what, exactly, he’s thanking you for.

You almost think you’re imagining it at first; that his cock is reaching further because of the slight change in angle when he had wrapped his arms securely around your body. But then you feel the ache,  your cunt stretching to accommodate a larger size as he grows inside of you- thicker, longer, deeper than he had ever been before, and you choke on air when he shifts again and bucks his hips.

“Oh my God.” At the sound of your voice he growls, a low, dangerous sound that surrounds you, and drags his hips back to fuck into you again. “Oh my God-”

You’re impaled on his cock, your inner walls fluttering uselessly at the thought. He’s so fucking thick, the angle making everything that much more intense as he holds you to his chest and simply pounds up into you, and with hardly a touch to your clit from your own hand you’re coming again, the slide now frictionless with a second orgasm as Alastor continues to fuck you through it.

Your body is trembling and tense, blood pounding in your ears as he fills you so completely that you can hardly think. You catch a glimpse of a reflection in the gold of the archway, and what you see steals the air from your lungs.

Alastor was huge- not just his cock but his entire body having grown, the seams of his suit splitting in an effort to try and accommodate the transformation. His antlers were huge and jagged, black bolts of lighting that stretched wide enough to catch on the archway as his hips rock back and forth. He looks like an animal- no longer the dangerous gentleman that you had made your deal with, but something feral and unhinged, easily capable of tearing you apart with the vulnerable position you were in, speared and helpless on his relentless erection with a hand around your delicate throat. 

He hadn’t been thanking you, you realized. He was thanking the Entity- for releasing some of his power, giving him back strength that he had apparently been missing this whole time. This was the true Radio Demon, terrifying and larger than life and easily capable of killing you.

What the fuck was wrong with you, that made you clench down even harder on his length?

He snarls at the feeling, a particularly hard thrust following that has you choking on a moan. You hear a noise, like snakes slithering across the floor, and then there’s a smooth, tapered something pressing hard against your clit- his tentacles, you realize, making a return appearance to further reduce you to putty in his hands. More join the first, swirling and swiping, one even slipping past your drenched folds to wriggle into your cunt beside Alastor’s cock and rub furiously at the spongy spot of nerves deep inside you.

It felt impossible, but you could feel the crest of pleasure rising in you again. It felt deeper, more intense, the pit of your stomach clenching and releasing before every fucking muscle in your body seizes, your cunt trying to squeeze down as well as it could and a desperate scream escaping you and echoing through the chamber.

A rush of fluid squirts from where you’re connected, an embarrassing flood that drenches the floor below you, that you can hear squelching messily while Alastor and his tentacles continue to fuck you with single minded determination. He showed no signs of stopping, his pace still fast and hard and furious as he grunted in your ear, unfamiliar noises filling the air and strange symbols dancing before your eyes that you had no hope of deciphering.

“A- A- Alastor,” you finally manage to get out as you’re bounced in his lap, his tentacles still squirming against your over-sensitive clit and sending bolts of ecstasy through you so sharp they almost hurt. “Please, please, I can’t keep-”

"Y̵̷̛̤͍̅́̕ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈ ẅ̷̷̢̟͇͈̒i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟ḻ̸͈ͧ͑̓̓̀͡ḻ̸͈ͧ͑̓̓̀͡," he demands, his voice booming and contorted with static and screeching, the stuff of nightmares and other trials. He hasn’t spoken since his frantic muttering into your shoulder and now it seems that he can’t stop, his normal voice flickering in and out like a poorly tuned radio. “You’ll take it- t̴͕͖͓̀ă̶̸̝ͦ͊̿͋͞k̶̸͙̭̹͆͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ m̶̷͔ͪ̽͡ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊, feel me…” The hand around your throat releases and slides down your body, his hand huge and dangerous as his fingers dance across bare skin to press low on your abdomen. And you can feel it even before your head drops forward to see it, a hand darting out to support yourself on the arch so you can look down-

The bulge is visible, so full of Alastor that you can see the push and pull of his cock while he fucks into you, the pressure as he presses down from the outside almost unbearably pleasant. “I can’t, I can’t,” you sob, letting your head drop back against his shoulder again while he continues to keep steady force against the distension, the added pleasure sharp and aching. “Please, Alastor-” Your voice breaks on a whine, reaching back to fist your hand into his clothing as some sort of desperate anchor to keep you grounded as your words fail.

Alastor’s breath is hot against your neck, and you feel the terrifying prick of razor sharp teeth against your skin for a dizzying moment. “Y̵̷̛̤͍̅́̕ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈'ḻ̸͈ͧ͑̓̓̀͡ḻ̸͈ͧ͑̓̓̀͡ t̴͕͖͓̀ă̶̸̝ͦ͊̿͋͞k̶̸͙̭̹͆͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ẅ̷̷̢̟͇͈̒h̶̯̰̝̻̿̓͢ă̶̸̝ͦ͊̿͋͞t̴͕͖͓̀ I̶̴̗̗̦͍ͨͭ̉͢͟ g̴̶̛̮̣͙͠i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ y̯̤͑́́̓́ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈,” he growls, his voice still corrupted and dark. “You can take it- so strong, so perfect, but I will r̶̷̲͍̭͐̾̀͟û̶͙̽̿͆̈i̵͓͙̱͚̎͟n̷̶̯͉̊̽̐ͦ͘ y̯̤͑́́̓́ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚û̶͙̽̿͆̈.” His hand rubs, pressure firm and unyielding against your abdomen where his cock stretches you impossibly from the inside, his other arm holding you even tighter to him while his hips piston at breakneck speed, so sudden and hard that it makes your head spin. 

Agonizing ecstasy licks like lines of fire from your core and down your limbs, another orgasm rushing at you like a bull and you’re helpless to stop it, fingers scrabbling uselessly against his suit when it hits. The rest of the world fades away except your points of connection; Alastor’s harsh grunting in your ear, the rippling clench of your cunt around him, the pinpricks of pain where his claws dig into your tender flesh. You’re faintly aware of an eldritch roar that may or may not be some semblance of your name before you’re somehow even fuller, his release hot and messy inside as he continues to rock his hips, stuffed completely with his cock and tentacles and come. Everything within you pulses with light and pleasure, still just as sharp as it was sweet, and finally you go limp in his hold, eyes fluttering shut to enjoy your short moment of reprieve.

When they open again, you seem to have lost minutes- Alastor is hunched over you, returned to his normal size and breathing heavily against your shoulder. The insane pressure of his cock has eased, no longer inside you, and the palm he has pressed against your stomach no longer meets any resistance; instead, he’s rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

“You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, my dear,” Alastor murmurs suddenly, his lips teasing the shell of your ear. “She only picks those that she feels will serve her well, feed her well as we’ve done today. If she didn’t think you could persevere, you wouldn’t be here. I never,” he adds, low and hot in your ear, “want to hear you say ‘I can’t’ again.”

 “Think about that before you go all scary monster inside me next time,” you retort breathlessly, even as your stomach flips with arousal at his tone. “You should warn a person before you grow big enough to step on them.”

He huffs a breath against you, his nose trailing intimately down the column of your throat. “I do apologize. The change was… rather sudden. I did not expect her to release so much of my normal power at once, I fear it went to my head.”

Normal power. Meaning that this wasn’t a buff for him like the other killers were receiving- the Entity had been holding him back this entire time, and only now saw fit to allow him to regain his strength. The thought was as terrifying as it was electrifying, and you feel a pang of sympathy for your fellow survivors, the men that would meet their end beneath his hulking frame, the women that would be horrified at the sight of him without the knowledge that they were safe. 

You clear your throat, your mouth suddenly dry. “Give me a heads up next time,” you tell him, turning slightly to the side- you can see the curve of his smile in your peripherals, the curtain of his fringe over his face. “I might need to try to do a little preparing before I can take that again, so-”

“Watch yourself, darling,” he growls, his grip flexing menacingly where he still holds you to him. “Unless you would like a repeat already.” But he laughs and releases you with a chuckle when you stammer in response, allowing your dress to finally fall to your knees again as he rises and offers you a hand up from the ground. Your face flames when you catch a glimpse of the mess of fluids that cover the floor between and around the archway- something that has you feeling extremely lucky that the Entity resets the realms between trials, so the Plague would never know the kind of sacrilegious depravity that had occurred in her sacred temple.

Alastor has straightened his remaining clothing, glancing down at his suit jacket with a shrug. “I suppose I can remain dressed down for the time being,” he laments, and offers his arm up to you as a shadow darts across the floor, pooling at the demon’s feet before rising from the ground, almost solid, and tugging at the ankles of Alastor’s slacks. “It appears my little friend has found your exit. Shall we?”

He guides you up out of the temple, the rain that you had forgotten about blessedly cool against your skin as you trek through the forest. Every so often the shadow backtracks to pull at Alastor, even sometimes wrapping a strangely corporeal clawed hand around your leg if it thought you weren’t moving fast enough. Unlike last time, the realm wasn’t collapsing around you- you had a good couple of minutes to simply walk with Alastor on shaky legs, enjoying the sounds of nature without having to worry about a generator going off, needing to heal your teammates, racing to vault away from a killer. It was… nice. Peaceful, even, despite the occasional hissing of the seemingly sentient creature that snaked between branches and rocks below the pair of you.

You heard the hatch as you got closer, and you were almost reluctant to leave. Alastor seems to sense it, turning you to face him once the hatch was in view and plucking a stray twig from your hair as you look up at him. “Don’t make such a face,” he admonishes. “She’ll allow us another moment soon, I’m sure.” He bends low and you let your eyes close, breath held in anticipation- “Go on then,” he urges, and when you open your eyes Alastor has stepped away from you, his shadow beckoning you closer to the hatch. “Until we meet again, my dear.”

He turns on his heel before you’ve even moved, walking slowly back the way you had come and taking the jazzy background music you had had the whole time with him. As he faded from view you were left with just the quiet sounds of nature and the droning hum of the hatch, Alastor’s shadow watching you with a tilted head as you approach.

It props its head up on a shadowy arm and narrows its eyes while you sit at the edge of the opening, knowing that there’s no point in looking down- it was always just a void, dark and endless until it wasn’t and you found yourself back at the campfire. You can still feel your legs even if you can’t seem them as they dangle over the edge, and you sigh heavily and give the shadow a little wave as you brace yourself to push off, ready for the newest round of interrogation when you arrive late from your trial. You didn’t want to go, letting your eyes drift closed again, tilting your head back so you could feel the cooling rain on your face. Even without Alastor and what had happened, this was the most content you had felt in ages- sexually sated, not scared for your life or physically exhausted from endless running. This was the closest you had felt to home since you’d come to the Entity’s realm.

There’s a shift in the air, something that catches your attention before you can fully commit to dropping through the hole- Alastor’s shadow had crept closer while your eyes were closed, and a cool touch to your cheek had startled you out of your reverie. It wasn’t quite like skin, almost like silk as it caressed your jaw, turned you to face it. The same way you had expected Alastor to, it drew you in for a pantomime of a kiss; it was cold against the delicate skin of your lips, tangible in a way that a shadow shouldn’t be but very much there in Alastor’s absence. It was almost what you needed, what you had missed this time in the overwhelming experience in the temple. You reach up, forgetting where you are, what is pressed your mouth as you try to deepen the kiss, leaning in-

And promptly falling into the abyss as you slide through the shadow’s body, looking up just in time to see the shadow silently laughing before the hatch slammed closed above you.

[bullet-prooflove]

Incomprehensible: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @sweetdaytimedreams @cosmic-psychickitty @mrspeacem1nusone

It’s Roxie that notices Margo’s attraction to Dean first. Roxie that pulls you aside at Benji’s Christening because she thinks Dean’s too oblivious to realise when another woman’s hitting on him and she doesn’t want to embarrass him.

Now that you see it, you can’t unsee it. The way she leans in close, bumping against him lightly as he speaks, the rapt attention as she listens. Her fingers toy with her necklace, attempting to draw his attention to her decollete. It’s completely lost on Dean, who’s gaze stays firmly on her face the entire time.

“She wants to meet for dinner tomorrow night.” He tells you as the two of you sit at one of the tables near the buffet, sharing a slice of cake. “It’s the only time she has to discuss some of the things I should be looking out for with Sean. She thinks the fact he’s a new husband and a new father might be putting extra pressure on him, that he might be headed towards a relapse.”

“I really don’t think she’s giving Sean enough credit.” You tell him as you pick through the icing with your fork. “He’s thriving at being a father and when he was struggling with the baby a couple of weeks ago, he did come to you for help.”

You’re talking about the night that Benji wouldn’t stop crying because he had colic, where Sean was at his wit’s end and had called Dean because he needed a break. You’d come home to find him asleep on your couch because Dean had given him the keys to house so he could get some rest.

“I just don’t want to miss something.” Dean tells you, his gaze coming to rest on his son as he cradles Benji to his chest. “He seems fine but maybe she sees something I don’t…”

“Or she just wants to spend time with you.” You point out and his eyebrows furrow into a frown.

“That’s not it.” He tells you bluntly. “She’s a professional, she wouldn’t do that.”

You don’t take offense at his dismissal, you understand that Dean doesn’t see himself the same way that other people do. It’s incomprehensible to him that another woman may find him attractive, that she may use the resources at her disposal including his son to further her agenda.

“OK.” You say pushing the plate of cake back towards him so he can finish his favourite parts. “I clearly must be seeing something that isn’t there.”

You’re sitting on the couch the next evening, catching up on your reading when he comes home from his meeting flustered and distressed. He can barely look at you as he hurtles up the stairs and straight into the bathroom, where he turns on the shower almost immediately. You raise your eyes to the ceiling because you know what happened to put him in this state, you can envision it quite clearly.

Dean giving Margo a lift home at the end of the night because he’s a gentleman, her leaning over the console, kissing him, inviting him inside. You can imagine the pink blush across his cheeks as he vehemently denied her.

You sigh as you close your book, heading up the stairs after him because you know just how shitty he must feel right now.

“Are you going to come out?” You ask him after you rap your knuckles on the door with no response. “Or do I have to take the door off the hinges?”

The lock clicks and the door opens to reveal Dean standing there, a navy blue towel slung low over his hips as droplets of water run down his chest.

“You were right.” He says quietly as he leans in the doorway. “It wasn’t about Sean.”

“I suppose it’s good we know we’re not careening towards a relapse.” You remark and he purses his lips together grimly.

“There is that.” He says before he looks at you through lowered lashes. “I can’t believe how badly I misread that situation.”

“Dean my love.” You say softly, your fingertips gracing his grizzled cheek. “Your priority has and will always be Sean, you wanted to make sure you were supporting your son in the best possible because she told you there maybe a problem. You can’t fault yourself for that.”

“I’m an idiot.” He says frankly and you shake your head in response to his words.

“No sweetheart.” You say as your arms loop around his waist, drawing him close. The dampness of his skin soaks through your clothes as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. “Really you’re not.”

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[cece693]

I’d do anything for a part two of “A Crown Of Two Realms”… I have never been more intrigued in a fic and its absolutely killing me AAHHH!! If you have the time, or ideas, I’d be forever grateful. Your writing is absolutely spectacular!! It encapsulates emotion so well, drawing me in like a typhoon 😵‍💫 /GEN !!

Awwww, thank you! I didn't really plan to do a second part of this since I wanted readers to create their own ending (loveless marriage vs. following your heart), but what can I say? I hate a sad ending, even if you choose it. So, this part has you choosing loki, perhaps some spicy scene, supportive Thor and living your life.

A Crown Of Two Realms Pt. 2

pairing: loki laufeyson x małe reader pairing: reader is set on loki, spicy scene (basically revelation of feelings), I just loved Loki's face here, like he looks quite innocent and adorable, anyway, loki hates himself, you strive to show him he's worthy

In the days after your eavesdropping of Loki and Thor's argument, you tried to distance yourself from the younger prince, hoping that avoiding each other would curb the tempest in your heart. Instead, it only made the longing sharper, more irresistible. That was the cruel paradox of it all: the very man you swore you couldn’t see again was the one you couldn’t stop thinking about.

One late afternoon, you were alone in one of the palace’s many colonnades, gazing across Asgard’s gleaming city. A soft breeze teased the edges of your ceremonial robe. The endless swirl of court responsibilities had left you little time to think, and yet here you were, thoughts anchored to one person alone: Loki.

You sensed Thor’s approach before he spoke—a shifting in the air and the distant echo of his surefooted stride. When you turned, he was already there, bright blue eyes studying you with an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression. “Has Asgard bored you so thoroughly?” he asked with a hint of a smile, though concern etched his brow.

“I wouldn’t say bored—just overwhelmed.”

Thor leaned against the nearest pillar, crossing his arms. “I fear I may be part of that overwhelm.” He glanced toward the horizon. “Sometimes, I wish these marriage negotiations were less complicated. It weighs on me, too.”

You stared at him, heart twinging with guilt. “Thor, I—”

He silenced you with a gentle wave of his hand. “Let me speak first. I’ve been thinking much since your arrival, and I’m not so blind as most people assume.” There was a sad twist to his grin. “You’re handsome, powerful, and wise—anyone would be honored to marry you. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also taken by you.”

Surprise fluttered in your chest. Of all the things you expected Thor to say, that wasn’t it. “I’m flattered,” you replied quietly.

“But,” he continued, “I’ve seen the way your eyes wander during feasts—like you’re searching for something or someone.” Thor cleared his throat. "Our union guarantees peace between our families, but I'm not naive enough to believe my father’s match is the one your heart truly wants. And I will not be the one forcing you into a joyless union. That’s not how I want to rule, nor how I wish to live.”

For a moment, you could only stare. Of all the outcomes you’d dreaded, you never thought Thor would willingly step aside. “But what of Odin? The treaty?”

Thor squared his shoulders, determination burning in his gaze. “Leave Father to me. If the alliance stands by a marriage with Asgard’s royal bloodline, then it need not be me. I won’t pretend this is easy, but I’d rather see you and Loki happy than see us three torn apart by a forced bond.”

Emotion welled up in you—gratitude, relief, and lingering guilt. “Thor, I—I don’t know what to say.”

He gave a sad, yet sincere smile. “Say you’ll follow your heart. Go to Loki. He may be a stubborn fool at times, but I suspect you’re the one person who can convince him he’s worth loving.”

The weight that had settled over your shoulders since your arrival lifted, if only by a fraction. You clasped Thor’s forearm in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Thor nodded. “Now go. Quickly, before someone else demands your time.”

Without hesitation, you set off through the grand corridors, heart pounding with renewed purpose. At first, you checked the corridors and library where you’d often crossed paths with Loki in quieter moments. He wasn’t there. The banquet hall was alive with courtiers, but there was no trace of the dark-haired prince. Finally, you ventured to a secluded section of the palace gardens—a space often overlooked, where a trickling fountain stood surrounded by tall hedges.

You found him there, leaning against a carved marble ledge, staring into the water’s rippling reflection. The setting sun cast a gold halo around him, accentuating the angles of his face. Anxiety churned in your chest, but Thor’s words echoed in your mind.

You cleared your throat softly, stepping into view. Loki stiffened but didn’t turn around. “I wondered when you might show up,” he said, his voice cool, almost brittle.

Your chest tightened. “We should talk—”

“Oh, should we?” Loki let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Let me guess: you’ve finally come to tell me everything is over, haven’t you? Perhaps the glorious Thor awaits, and you’re here to deliver my official dismissal.”

“That’s not—” You tried to interject, but Loki pressed on, eyes flashing with a raw, self-deprecating fury.

“Because that’s your duty, isn’t it?” he sneered. “To fulfill the alliance, marry my perfect brother, keep the Nine Realms content. And me? I’m the sideshow, the one you dallied with—”

“I didn’t—”

He cut you off again, voice cracking with hurt. “It’s cruel, you know, tempting me like that. Letting me believe—for a moment—that someone powerful and stunning as you could want the lesser prince. I was a fool to think otherwise.”

Blood pounded in your ears. “Loki, just listen—” But he wouldn’t. He hurled his pent-up anguish at you in a torrent of bitter words, each one slicing deeper than the last.

“Tell me, was it sport for you? Some fleeting interest in the ‘trickster,’ so you could see how far I’d chase after a dream?” His laughter was hollow, eyes shimmering with tears he wouldn’t let fall. “I almost let myself believe you saw more in me than everyone else does. But now, you’re here to confirm I was just deluding myself. Well, hurry up, then! Deliver your grand speech of sympathy, or pity, or whatever nonsense you’ve conjured—”

��Enough!” Your patience snapped, voice rising in a rare shout that echoed across the courtyard. Loki blinked in shock; you’d never raised your voice before.

Chest heaving, you advanced on him in three swift steps, your normally composed demeanor shattered. You seized Loki by the lapels of his cloak, yanking him closer. “You don’t know a damn thing about what I’m here to say,” you growled. His eyes widened, the tirade in his throat dying unspoken. Before he could counter, you closed the distance and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

At first, Loki stiffened in disbelief, a trembling exhale escaping against your lips. Then, as if gravity itself shifted, he melted into you, slender fingers clinging to your embroidered robes. Everything about him—his taste, the warmth of his skin—flooded your senses, drowning out the world.

Your heart thundered in your ears, and you pressed closer, the height difference letting you tilt his face up to deepen the kiss. He made a small, desperate sound, arms snaking around your waist as though afraid you might vanish.

When you finally tore your mouth away, your breathing was ragged. Loki’s chest rose and fell with equal intensity, his eyes brimming with confusion, longing, and a fragile hope.

“Why—” he rasped, voice unsteady, “why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, you stubborn fool.” The words spilled out in an impassioned rush. You grasped his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I spoke to Thor. He knows everything. He told me to come find you.”

Loki blinked rapidly, tears threatening to spill. “Thor—Thor knows?”

You nodded, thumbs brushing his cheeks. “He knows I never wanted this alliance with him. Not in the way Odin planned. He knows my heart belongs to you.”

His breath caught in his throat, tears threatening to spill over. “Do you realize what you’re risking?”

You answered by leaning down to kiss him again, gentler this time—an unspoken vow. “I know precisely what I’m risking. And for you, I’d risk more.”

Loki managed the faintest of smiles, a trembling little expression that held more hope than you’d ever seen on his face. Slowly, he looped his arms around your waist, resting his head against your chest. He was noticeably smaller under your protective hold, and it dawned on you how easily you could cocoon him from the rest of the world.

“You’re unbelievably stubborn,” he muttered, attempting a wry tone but failing to mask his emotion.

A relieved laugh rumbled low in your throat. “I could say the same about you, trickster.”

[chosos-prettyprincess]

cant stop thinking about burnt out artist!choso who finds his muse and suddenly life makes sense

Artist!Choso who had been stuck in a terrible art block for the past couple of months. Anytime he tried to paint or draw anything, he wouldn’t know what to draw or would eventually get a headache from trying to figure it out. He had ended up spending multiple nights, practically ripping his hair out and wanting to smash his canvases from how he was struggling with his art block.

Artist!Choso who spent months not painting or drawing, getting too stressed out anytime he even looked at an empty canvas. It got so bad to the point he had to pack all of his art supplies away into his closet before he smashed a hole in his wall from the frustration bubbling up in his chest. He even considered deleting all of his social media because he was tired of seeing a bunch of painting videos on his feed, those videos and pictures only stressing him out even more.

Artist!Choso who was out getting coffee one day, trying to take his mind off of how bad his burnout and art block was when he saw you. The perfect little thing ever. You were cute, incredibly cute, shorter than him, enough so that it made it him feel so way. And when he heard your voice? God, he felt like he was melting.

So, despite being a reserved person who didn’t like being around strangers, but he wanted, no NEEDED, to talk to you. Sucking up his social anxiety, he forgot his coffee and made his way over to you. He swore his heart was going to explode out of his chest when he saw that you were already looking up at him, with those wide, innocent eyes of yours. He felt like his soul was getting cleansed just by being in your presence.

Artist!Choso who hesitantly slid into the seat across from you. He fiddled, nervously, with his hands underneath the table as you flashed him that sickly sweet smile of yours and introduced yourself. Your voice was so smooth and sweet like honey, he felt like he could listen to you talk for hours, even if he didn’t particularly care for what you were talking about.

Artist!Choso who practically blurts out, “Can I paint you?” without a second thought, somewhat cutting you off when you tried asking him what his name was. He watched the way your face flushed, your mouth opening and closing a few times as you tried to formulate a response to his question. When you finally nodded your head yes, he quickly pulled his phone out, handing it to you for you to put your number in his phone so he could contact you sometime about painting you.

Artist!Choso who went home after that interaction, and instantly pulled out all of his art supplies. His fingers were itching to paint and whenever he started, he felt as though he couldn’t stop. In the span of 3 days, he painted 7 different paintings. His room a complete mess, as well as his face and arms. He had used up about half of his paint at this point. His body practically itching to just draw something, anything even. He even painted a picture of you off the top of his mind, having to redo it multiple times because it just didn’t feel like you, it always felt off.

Artist!Choso who didn’t even realize that you had been texting him, telling him that you were free the next few days if he wanted you to come over so he could paint you. It wasn’t until you had tried to call him, that he finally got broken out of his creative itch and had answered you.

“Hello?” He answered, sounding as though he had just ran a marathon with how hard he was breathing into the mic, having to balance his phone awkwardly in his hands due to the paint covering half of his body.

“Sorry, for calling you, you just weren’t answering my texts..” Your sheepish voice came out over the phone, the sound of your voice like music to his ears, soothing and soft. He instantly felt guilt flood his body from how worried your voice sounded.

“No, no, no, don’t apologize. I’m sorry for not answering you, baby. I just got distracted with my paintings.” He hummed out in response, quickly shutting down any attempts at you trying to apologize to him for something that wasn’t even your fault.

He hasn’t even realized that he had called you baby until he was met with complete radio silence from you on the other side of the phone and it finally clicked what he had called you.

“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that, sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” He instantly apologized, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable around him, especially for him calling you baby despite barely knowing each other.

“It’s okay… I don’t mind all that much.” Your sheepish voice admitted, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. You were glad the two of you were calling each other and Choso couldn’t currently see your face right now. You didn’t want him to see just how flustered that nickname had gotten him. “Uhm… I’m free tomorrow if you want me to come over.”

Choso paused for a moment at that proposal. Had he missed something? Why did you want to come over tomorrow? Did you two plan a hangout and he had been so caught up with painting that he had forgotten?

You had apparently picked up on Choso’s hesitation and over thinking, and quickly added on, “So you can paint me? If you still want to of course!” Not wanting to be too over pushy about him painting you like he had asked when you first met three days ago.

“Right, shit, sorry. I’ve been kinda distracted. But.. yeah, you can come over… tomorrow, that works.” He mumbled out, stumbling over his words a few times as he looked around his apartment, just now realizing how giant of a mess there was. There was multiple paint splotches on the walls, the floors, everywhere. He had canvases just thrown around, open paint canisters and multiple dirty paint brushes laying around.

Artist!Choso who frantically starts cleaning up his place like a neat freak the second you hang up the call, needing to get to class. He instantly got to organizing things, keeping out only the essential things he would need for painting you tomorrow. Everything else, he just tossed in the hallway closet, needing somewhere to hide his messiness.

He even got on his hands and knees to try and scrub the floor of the paint stains (new flash: they did not come out). He even cleaned out from underneath his bed, not sure why he did, and threw his laundry on the wash, wanting his clothes to be clean and smell all nice tomorrow.

Artist!Choso who by the end of cleaning of his apartment, was a tired, sweaty mess, but hey, at least his apartment was squeaky clean. It almost looked as if he had just moved in. However, in the process of doing all of that, he had completely forgotten about his phone, again, leaving you on delivered when you texted him asking if he wanted to go out to lunch before hand so you could repay him for painting you. 

Artist!Choso whose heart practically jumped out of his heart at the idea when he finally looked at his messages, quickly agreeing and letting you know that he could come pick you up if you had class beforehand. He felt like a lovesick boy, desperate to do anything for you to make you comfortable and stick around. I mean, who could blame him, after he saw you, he was finally able to paint again.

[angeltreasure]

can you please pray for my friend? i'm overwhelmed with grief for her. she committed suicide when we were in the psych ward together. she was an atheist and i can't stop thinking about what that could mean for her salvation. she was a kind and gentle soul.

The Lord’s Prayer

Our Father, Who art in heaven,

Hallowed be Thy Name.

Thy Kingdom come.

Thy Will be done,

on earth as it is in Heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil. Amen.

-

Also, I highly recommend picking up a copy of this book. I’ve read it, and it’s given me great hope and comfort for all kinds of pains and loss I have experienced. Fr. Chris Alar shows us the great love and mercy of God.

“Addressing the hard issue of suicide simply and pastorally, Fr. Chris Alar, MIC, and Jason Lewis, MIC, draw from the teaching of the Church, the message of Divine Mercy, and their own experience of losing a loved one to offer readers two key forms of hope: hope for the salvation of those who've died by their own hand, and hope for the healing of those left behind. This book is a must-read for all those trying to make sense out of such a difficult subject. Remarkably, the spiritual principles of healing and redemption apply not only to a loss from suicide, but by any means of death.”

[probablysimpledreams]

Let Me Take Care of Ya, Yeah? (Hawks x reader: NSFW)

a/n: holy shit I meant to finish this like 2 months ago but then it just sat in my drafts until today loll BUT here's a lil hawks smut for yall<33 been thinking about how much of a #freak he secretly is and how he'd enjoy period sex (a lil too much lol) so here's a pic on it!

cw: period sex (and Hawks is v into it), afab reader, possessive Hawks

wc: 1747

Despite only dating for a few months, you have already crossed off many of Hawks' "firsts." First date, first kiss, first blow job, etc. And after he woke up to you loudly cursing a new one was added to the list: first period he was home for.

Due to his insanely busy work schedule, he had actually never been home when you've started your cycle before. So between that and the fact you are the first person he ever dated, Hawks had no clue what to do. He stayed frozen in bed, watching as you scramble to get up and examine the mess you had unknowingly made in your sleep.

"Shit I'm sorry Kei," you apologize. He stays quiet as he thinks about and processes the situation, making you frown. All you can think about is how disgusted he must be.

"What? No don't apologize baby," he confidently reassures you. A handful of his wings detach from his back smoothly before quickly attaching to you and pulling you into the bathroom. "You just do what you need to feel good, I'll handle the rest ya?" He calls out from the bedroom as he begins changing out the sheets. His feathers move around the bathroom, drawing you a warm bath and rubbing against your face affectionately before returning to Hawks.

Now that you were out of the room, Hawks let his confident demeanor fall as he scrambled to grab his phone. He began going down a Reddit rabbit hole to learn about periods and, most importantly, what he as your boyfriend should be doing when that time of the month comes. He wasted no time flying off to store so that when you got out of the bath you'd be greeted with your favorite take out order, chocolates, and a sweet note before heading out to work.

As he patrolled the quiet city streets, Hawks couldn't stop worrying about you. He wanted to do more for you, the need to take care of you stronger than usual. He decides to fall back down the Reddit rabbit hole, hoping to find more he can do for you. His eyes widen, smirk tugging at his lips as he begins reading the benefits of period sex. After a quick read, he sends you a sweet text before sliding his phone back into his pocket, thinking long and hard on what the night will bring

---------

The sun setting marked the end of his patrol shift and thankfully the Commission had no other tasks for him. Hawks basically teleported home, happily entering the apartment as he headed towards the bedroom. The exhaustion in his body began washing away the moment he laid eyes on you laying in bed, wearing one of his old t-shirts and pair of boxers as pajamas while you scroll on your phone. The scent of your body wash and lotion becomes stronger as he moves further into the room, causing his wings to twitch in anticipation. Your attention moves from your phone screen up to your boyfriend, smiling as he climbs onto the bed. Before a word could leave your mouth, his begins kissing you rough and eagerly.

"Missed me huh?" you teased, giggling as you try to catch your breath. You start start playing with his hair, thinking he needs some gentle affection before heading to bed. However as his lips began trailing down your neck, lightly nipping at the exposed flesh, you realized his true needs. "Mmm K-Keigo....but I'm on my period," you weakly protested, trying to push him away.

"Yeah I know," he responds quickly before returning to kissing your skin.

"And you still want to have sex? You don't just want a blow job or something?"

He laughed at your question, making your eyebrows furrow. One of his hands goes to cup the side of your face, thumb rubbing your cheek gently as his other hand moves to your waist, fingers teasing the elastic of your underwear. He smirks as your expression relaxes, body reacting to his touches. "Let me take care of ya, yeah?" he whispers in your ear before kissing your forehead. "Gonna make you feel so good baby," his hand slides in your underwear, fingers rubbing between your folds causing you to squirm. The way your body reacts plus the wetness of your arousal and blood coating his fingers makes him moan. After a few more teasing touches, Hawks pulls his hand out and examines his fingers. The shine and hint of red on his skin made his cock and feathers twitch.

"Stay here, Imma grab a towel for you to lay on. I have a feeling you're gonna be messy~" he teases as he gets off the bed, heading into the bathroom. He returns quickly, allowing his feathers to place the towel over the sheets as he holds you in his arms before placing you onto the towel. Once back in bed he wastes no time getting both of you fully undressed, roughly kissing your lips before moving to your chest.

"Mmm ffffuck K-Kei!!" you cry as he kisses around your collarbone and slides two fingers inside you.

"God you're so wet baby," he groans as he fingers you. The sound of him fingering you echoes throughout the apartment and it drives him crazy. He loves pleasing you, so every sound from your body and mouth has him chasing more and more. He feels you clench around his fingers, a loud moan leaving his lips as you suck him deeper into you. He takes it as his sign to go faster, thumb rubbing your clit before the fingers inside you curl upward. The intensity of the pleasure and heightened sensitivity from your hormones cause your orgasm to wash over you without much warning. Hawks praises you as he fingers you through your high, cooing sweetly in your ear. But you can't focus on anything other than the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body as you grip onto his shoulders, crying and shaking before your body sinks into the bed. You feel sweaty, your mind cloudy, and body still trembling as you lay out on the towel. Once you regain some form of composure your gaze moves to your boyfriend whose expression was once you had never seen on his face before. You watched as he stayed above you, his gaze sharp on his fingers coated in your cum and blood. His expression was animalistic, hungry even. Hawks was no stranger to blood on his hands, but this was different. This was a piece of you. A new way to mark you as his, a new way to provide you pleasure. He had never seen you cum so hard and fast before, it was driving him wild. He takes his stained fingers and begins tracing circles on your inner thighs, chuckling as you whine and as the blood sticks to your skin like it does his. He felt closer to you than ever before, and was not ready to let that high go away. His wings puffed out as he grabbed his dick, whining as he pumps it slowly. Your cum and blood left on his fingers began mixing with the precum leaking from his dick, and the sight made him shudder.

"Ready for more baby? Gotta make sure ya feel real good," his voice is dripping with lust and it makes you want to rub your thighs together. You had never expected to see him like this, but you sure weren't;t complaining. You were so use to men not caring about your pleasure or needs, but here was your gorgeous boyfriend almost cumming from the site of pleasuring you during the time of the month you loathed.

"P-please Kei," you whine, all those needy and horny feelings washing over your body again.

"Anything for you ______," he leans down to kiss you gently before sliding his dick inside you. You both moan into the kiss as you feel him stretch you out and he feels you squeeze around him. "Fuck this pussy is so good...too damn good," he babbles as he begins fucking you. He starts out gentle, worried he may hurt you if you're still feeling overstimulated from earlier. The knot in your stomach is already forming but you're too overwhelmed by pleasure to speak, so instead you tug harshly at Hawks' hair to communicate your needs. He picks up instantly on the message, moving from slow thrusts to rough, quick ones. You whine and cry out his name, back arching off the bed as tears fall from your eyes. Your hands don't leave his hair, tugging at the messy golden strands as he pulls you closer and closer to that sweet release.

"Y-you like that huh? Like how-fuck-good I fuck you huh baby?"

"Y-yes yes ahhhh," you somehow manage to choke out the words. Your praise only makes him needier, pulling himself fully out of you before slamming right back in. It only takes a couple more rough, deep thrusts until you're cumming around him again. He fucks you through it, once again praising you as you come undone around him. You cry and whine as it takes him a couple thrusts more until he cums hard and heavy inside you, pushing it as deep inside you as possible. You watch as his wings spread out behind him, shaking as he fills you up.

The room now is quiet aside from you both panting, and the scent of sex lingers like a thick fog. He pulls out of you before collapsing against your chest, a stupid cheesy grin painted across his sweaty face. You couldn't help but smile back at him, pushing strands of hair out of his face.

"Cramps feeling better?" he asks, gently rubbing your lower stomach.

"Mmhmm," you nod, melting into his sweet touches. "However now I'm sore for a whole different reason," you laugh. His cheek flush before he laughs with you. The two of you stay cuddled up in bed, not caring about the sweat or blood sticking on your skin. He peppers a few more gentle kisses, nuzzling into your neck as he lets out a few soft coos. The vibrations from the sound against your skin tickles, causing you to squirm and laugh.

"I love you Keigo," you sigh happily, rubbing his back and smiling at the way his wing flutter when your finger tips grace over them.

"I love you too ________," he hums, eyes beginning to fall close. "So damn much."

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Inertia; Two

Pairing; LADS Caleb x non-mc reader

Word count; 2,359

Themes/warnings; child abuse (because of Ever), angst w/o comfort, semi-detailed descriptions of torture (If you can imagine things as you read, try not to for this?), og mc/Lia-hua and Caleb will finally show up in the 4th drabble

Notes; This one gets a bit rough, I'll be honest. I'm never too confident in my writing, so I can't say if it's too excruciatingly detailed, but I think a warning is necessary for the content involved!

Summary; “The experiments…Who could do this to children? Why would adults inflict this type of pain on the children they were supposed to be protecting?”

Or

The experiments you were subjected to, in detail.

prev || next

—☆— Masterlist —☆—

The first few experiments weren’t that bad. Definitely not as horrible as what Unicorn was experiencing, that’s for sure. All you had to do was crush metallic objects for a few hours out of your day, use your Evol to levitate different metals, detect buried metals and discern what types they were. But after a few tests doing this, Team Lead L/n was growing anxious. Unicorn had already gone up to Phase-3, she was continuously showing growth and even when she wasn’t, she still had the ability to rebirth while you were showing no sense of progress.

She was desperate for results.

It was just another typical Thursday of experiments for you, crushing clocks and slinging copper plates up, down, left, right, and then…A part of the metal wall slides up, like a hidden door, and something steps out.

A metal endoskeleton.

A robot with intricate details and wires lining the neck and arms. A cylindrical object was attached to the ends of its arms and suddenly, its head jerked up. Crimson eyes meet your own and you nervously turn toward the large glass-paned windows on the other side of the room to look at the researchers behind the glass.

Your breath caught in your chest as you watched Researcher L/n’s finger go down to press a button. The robot’s arms lift in your direction and you finally realize what’s actually on the end of its arms.

Gun barrels.

You throw your hands up in a panic at the sound of the first shot. The scent of gunpowder filled the room and you felt a searing pain in your left shoulder. A choked cry slips from your lips as you grab your arm in a blind panic. A warm, sticky liquid immediately coats your hand and you push the thought that it’s your blood aside. You refuse to think about the fact that you just got shot, along with the fact that you’re about to be shot at again.

You hear the click of another bullet being loaded into the chamber and you snap into action. With a flick of your hand, the copper sheet from earlier flies in front of you and a loud twang resounds throughout the room.

The bullet makes a deep dent in the copper and you’re unsure how many more times you can use the sheet for defense until it’s unusable.

You could definitely use your Evol to stop the bullets, you think, but you’ve never had to use your Evol on a moving object before. Especially one moving as fast as a bullet. Maybe you could crush the gun’s barrel to save yourself?

Clang

You can’t waste much more time thinking. After taking five more bullets, the sheet was full of dents. The bullet casings were almost fully penetrating the copper and showed no signs of stopping until you made any form of improvement.

With a deep breath, you toss the sheet to the side and lift your hands up. Try to stop the bullet first and, if that doesn’t work, go for the barrels.

Another shot rings out in the room.

A garbled cry bubbles up from your lips, teeth biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as your eyes wavered on the hole now in your left hand. Thankfully the bullets were relatively small, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but the pain was still blinding.

Crushing the gun barrel it is, then.

Your chest hiccupped as you held back your cries. Focusing your blurry, tearfilled gaze on the gun barrels. You lift your hands, left hand more shaky than your right, once more. Blood drips down your arm, puddling into the floor as you use all of your power on the gun barrels. Taking a deep breath, you firmly close your hands and watch as the metal of the barrels crumpled under the weight of your Evol.

Your left hand screams in pain as your fingers dug into the open wound on your palm, nails sinking into the flesh as your hands stayed closed. Unable to open them as you felt your legs give out from underneath you.

Even though you were badly injured and lost a substantial amount of blood, you counted this as a win. You felt like you really showed them researchers a thing or two. Maybe they’d give you a break from experimenting after this monumental discovery.

With those thoughts on your mind, your vision blurred and you felt your body flop to the floor as you passed out.

The next time you awoke, you were laid on your back on the floor mattress.

The pain was still there, albeit a bit toned down compared to earlier. You had a bandage on your shoulder, along with your hand, and there was a researcher standing by the door, clicking her pen. Lead Researcher L/n.

“Congrats 001. You’re not entirely useless.” She comments, giving your body a once-over. “It seems you subconsciously used your Evol to stop yourself from bleeding out. It’s a shame you didn’t die, but we’ve made some substantial leaps in our research. Now, we can use your Evol for different experiments with this knowledge.” She writes in her clipboard for a few moments, before continuing, “Be ready. You’re scheduled in for Saturday. I expect more progress.”

A day’s break…You’re only getting a day to recover from your injuries. And what does she mean when she said that you “stopped yourself from bleeding out”? How could a metal Evol affect blood?

“Your confusion is almost adorable…Almost.” Researcher L/n crosses her arms over her chest as she leans back against the door. “I’ll only explain this once, so listen up. The Chimera Team is under the assumption that your Evol can affect all metals, this includes the iron in blood and calcium in bones. There’s a surprising amount of naturally occurring metals in the human body, so we’re going to run a few tests on what you can do with your current power level and aim for steady improvements. It’s only uphill from here, 001.”

Then, she leaves the room. Leaving you alone, body still aching from your earlier experimentations as you struggle to sit up on your mattress. Your gaze landed on a thin book laid out on the short table in the center of the room along with a small pack next to it.

Your reward for almost dying was…A measly colouring book and some crayons.

Saturday came sooner than you’d like.

You had already completed your colouring book and resorted to drawing on the backs of each page, though for some pages you wrote down key information —not wanting to forget anything. You wrote down your name, your Evol, what tests you’ve been through so far.

It was almost like a diary, or maybe even a last will. You weren’t sure, you were feeling way too anxious about today’s experimentation. You had a sinking feeling in your chest. Today was definitely not a good day. You had a bad feeling.

Researcher L/n comes to collect you. The moment your door opens, you slam your colouring book shut – terrified that she’d take away the only thing keeping you grounded, but she doesn’t. In fact, it seems like she doesn’t care what you do as long as you’re cooperative.

So you reluctantly get up, but it wasn’t fast enough for her apparently, because she grabs you by your wrist and begins tugging you down the hallway toward those large steel doors.

Maybe one day you could grow strong enough to break them and escape…but you don’t have much time to entertain that thought as the doors slide open and you’re shoved into the room.

Today, there’s a black pleather chair in the center of the room with an armrest on the right side and straps all over the chair — bindings, for you.

The armrest had some kind of mechanism set up to it. One small enough to fit your hand into with five rings, one for each of your fingers. The rings were attached to wires and the wires were fed into another machine. Though, you don't have long to stare at the machine before Researcher L/n drags you over to the chair and quickly straps you into it, settling your right hand into the mechanism. The rings only go up to the bend of your fingers, unable to fit any further down as if it was made to specifically fit there.

As Researcher L/n left the room, you began to feel a bit lightheaded as you imagined what this device could be used for. Your right hand was trapped, wrist strapped down to the armrest as your fingers were caught in rings up to the middle of the joint. The wires running from the rings gave you a sense of foreboding in your gut and you recalled what Researcher L/n had told you two days ago.

That your Evol could possibly control the iron in blood and the calcium in bones.

They weren’t seriously…They wouldn’t torture a child like that, right?

But before you can ponder such useless thoughts any longer, one of the strings snaps backward suddenly and a loud crack resounds throughout the empty room. You flinch back at the noise, but think nothing of it.

That is until you feel an intense pain radiating from your index finger and a shrill scream slips from your lips. Your head jerks toward your hand in the trap and your breath stutters in your chest. Your index finger was swollen, blood was pooling underneath your hand and into the floor, your bone…you could see your bone jutting out from your unnaturally bent finger. You could feel heat rushing toward your head, unable to think straight and your gaze darts toward the large glass window in front of you.

You shoot a pleading look toward the researchers, but the only response you get is Researcher L/n tapping her wrist as if to signify that you had a time limit.

Would another one of your fingers be broken if you couldn’t figure out what to do in time?

Think, Y/n…Think.

They wanted you to…use the calcium in your bones to fuse them back together right? Or did they want you to control the iron in your blood to stop the bleeding?

…The test continued on for a while. You weren’t sure how long, at this point. It could’ve been minutes or even hours, but you weren’t sure. Your throat felt scratchy and raw from screaming so much, your right hand aches in pain, your pulse was going haywire. You had completed the task they gave you, eventually.

You couldn’t fix your index finger until three more bones were broken, but once you did, the others were quick to follow. And once you thought you were done, you finished what they wanted you to do, they broke your fingers again. Over and over until you fine tuned your Evol and had complete control over it. Complete control over the calcium in your bones, the iron in your blood.

But you couldn’t create iron out of nothing, so you still lost a substantial amount of blood and ended up passing out once more.

When you awoke, you had a blood filled IV hooked to your arm and all the wounds you sustained from two days ago were healed. As if the skin was also fused back together. Though, the scars remained.

You also learnt it was Sunday. You were out for a whole day and in just two more days, you’d be right back to testing.

Another gift was placed on your table. This time, it was a pair of wired headphones and a tiny device. You quickly realize that it was some kind of antique music player with music preloaded onto it.

So you spent the next two days writing, drawing, and listening to your music. Refusing to think about the next tests, about what they’d do to you next. You decided that disassociation was your best friend, that’s the only way you’d be able to survive here. If you’d even be able to survive.

On Tuesday, you walked on your own next to Researcher L/n into the testing room.

The room was back to looking rather normal and it gave you hope that maybe it would be a simpler day. There was a biological scanner next to the pleather chair. You were told it was an Evol appraisal machine, and you hoped your Level somehow went up.

But Evol levels weren’t supposed to go up. The level you got was what you were stuck with, so you weren’t sure why these people were so certain you’d be any different, and yet you placed your hand on the machine nonetheless.

Behind the glass, you watch as the scientists squint their eyes before they erupt into cheers.

It seems you somehow went from level B to A. You’re still not sure how it was possible, but you’re not given a moments rest. Instead, Researcher L/n’s voice comes over the intercom, “Don’t celebrate just yet, 001. Testing isn’t over for today. Stand up.”

The next tests were just as fucked up as the last. They ranged from cutting your limbs off and having you reattach them; They’d start off with your fingers first and work their way up to arms and legs. They’d make deep cuts on your arms, legs, wherever they could and your goal was to stop the bleeding; So they could still see the open wound, but with no blood pouring out. Then, next was closing the wounds with the natural metals inside your skin, like zinc and copper. They would eventually give you a break by going back to your usual crushing metals and levitating them, but using bigger objects the stronger you got.

Throughout all these tests, there was only one thing you were wondering. How could they do this to a nine year old? In fact, how could these adults do this to a child?

Someone they were supposed to be protecting, instead of breaking like this?

[sunnyie-eve]

61 | Daddies

Series: Unexpected

Paring: Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

"The next 24 hours me, Matt, and Chris are about to become fathers. Of..." Nick starts the video off looking over at Chris.

"Little eggs." Chris smiles.

"Little baby...eggs." Nick smiles as well.

"So delicate." Matt says putting his hand out smiling, "They can crack." He smiles more making the other two give him a look.

"Starting now for the next 24hrs me, Matt and Chris are going to have to be parents to these little egg babies." Nick tells the viewers and as he explains more Chris tosses his egg up like parents do with their kids.

"Dude, stop. Stop." Matt tells him.

"Wee! You know how parents are like. Wee!" Chris keeps going.

"Y'all lose the remote next to you." Dani laughs at them.

"This is different." Nick tells her before they decorate their eggs.

"Oh my god!" Chris sees Nick's egg, "That's the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"He's kinda ugly." Nick laughs, "I kinda want to kill him and try again."

"No, you can't. That's your kid." Chris tells him.

"I'd let it happen." Matt tells them so Dani says that's rude.

"If your kid was ugly would you kill it and try again?" Chris asks right before Nick smacks the egg out of Matt's hand crushing it.

Matt, Chris and Dani gasp at what he just did, "Fuck him! Let's try again." Nick gets up.

Chris quickly grabs Matt's egg, "No, Chris DON'T!" Matt shouts as Chris throws it across the kitchen.

"Christopher..." Dani sighs.

"That's just really mean. Like, that just pissed me off." Matt sighs too.

"Why did you throw Matt's egg?" Nick looks back at Chris.

"Cause I wasn't gonna like do another one." Matt explains.

"I won." Chris smiles.

Dani sees Nick's wheels turning, "DON'T!" Nick quickly runs over smashing Chris's egg making it go everywhere.

"Nick." Chris looks down at himself.

"I-I-I can't." Dani shakes her head at them.

"Look at the yoke on..."

"I didn't think it would explode like that." Nick laughs, "I just had to get revenge."

"Nick!"

"I'm not helping clean that." Dani lets the three know.

"Alright, so it looks like we're gonna try again." Matt tells viewers.

"Wait, look at my pants." Chris keeps laughing, "Get the camera. Matt, get the camera."

"I'm leaving the room." Dani goes to her room so she didn't have to help clean up.

After sometime Matt enters her room, "Wanna meet our son?" He holds the egg out to her.

"Our son?" She laughs at him taking the egg from him, "He's got a face only a mother could love." She jokes, "You still going through with your plan?"

"I'm going to win this challenge. I already picked out the fake eggs to decorate. I took the photos and I'm ready to win this." He takes a seat on her bed.

"At least we're good with secrets." She gives him a smile so he move over to give her a kiss.

"Which would be scary in some scenarios."

"Like I would ever cheat on The Matthew Sturniolo." She laughs.

For Matt's plan it actually went really well when he swapped out the other two eggs. Even Dani was shocked at how well it went. She didn't understand how Nick or Chris didn't notice that it wasn't their drawings on the eggs. Maybe it's just because she pays better attention to things but she could tell the difference. Each had a distinct hand writing even in drawings.

"Yeah, I just saw you break it." Chris tells Matt as he looks at it.

"Did you see that?" Matt shows Chris and the camera.

"Is he okay?" Dani asks from the backseat.

"He's like cracked a little. He's damaged." Matt explains a bit.

"Ooh, you need to be careful." Nick tells him.

"Don't hurt your little boy." Dani tells him.

"This is unfair cause I have to drive." Matt huffs.

"Give him to mama." Dani snaps fingers at him so Chris and Nick laugh.

"Mama's turn." Matt passes the egg to her.

"Cause me, Matt and Chris are amazing parents. We're gonna go bring our kids outside for some adventure time." Nick tells viewers.

"It crazy we're only going outside-," Chris starts.

"To bring our kids out." Nick tells him.

"To bring eggs." Chris says.

"They're no..."

"To bring eggs out." Chris keeps it real.

"They're not eggs. They're not eggs." Nick repeats.

After eating and parking the car to go on their walk, Nick offers to hold Matt's egg as he vlogs their walk to the beach, "Maybe I should roll the egg all the way down the street." Nick jokes.

"If you roll my egg, I will kill you." Matt tells him, "Give him to his mama if you have any thoughts."

"Why does your egg have a mama but mine and Chris's don't?" Nick asks in a very sassy tone.

"Dani abandoned me to raise my egg alone." Chris jokes.

"What?" Dani laughs confused.

"She's a bad mama." He tells his egg making the rest laugh at him.

"No, I'm a good mama to my only child. I don't know who your baby mama is because it ain't me honey." Dani tells him, taking Matt's egg from Nick, "Don't listen to your uncle Chris, baby." She holds the egg closer to her.

"Wanna babysit for me tomorrow at least? Be a good aunt then." Chris still plays along.

"Twenty bucks an hour." She lets him know and his jaw drops.

"I'll watch my own child then."

As soon as they make it to the beach Nick messes around, "Doesn't it look like I'm a mermaid and I'm just gonna run into the ocean. And be with my mermaid friends." Nick says once they get to the beach.

"If you do your egg would be in danger." Chris tells him.

"Shut the fuck up!" Nick shouts at him.

Chris ends up with the brilliant idea to toss his egg into the sand since he didn't believe it would crack. Luckily it didn't break for him or Nick's when he puts his in a swing and it falls. But Matt's did get super bruised telling Nick to do long as he threw his egg far.

"I'm gonna break your eggs and eat them for breakfast." Matt tells the two as they start to leave and Dani tries to hold her smile in, "I'm kidding."

On the car ride back home, Nick was holding Matt's egg and at the same time he gets scared by a possum outside, "Oh my god. I just put my thumb in Matt's egg because the possum scared me."

"NICK SERIOUSLY?" Dani shouts at him.

"Like...almost."

"I can't believe you." She shakes her head at him and sees the egg.

"Oh my god." Matt looks back at his egg.

Before bed the guys explain how they're gonna wake up at 4:30am to rock their eggs back to sleep for 10 minutes before going back to bed. Both Chris and Matt agree it's a bit too long so they change it to three minutes instead.

"I doubt your mom and dad were up for only three minutes to take care of you three when you were babies at four in the morning." Dani tells the three.

"Well these are eggs, Dani. Not real breathing babies." Chris tells her before going to his room to go to bed.

"You getting up with me, right?" Matt looks at Dani.

"You're so funny, babe." She smiles patting his back before going to his room to spend the night with him but there was no way she was getting up with him.

When his alarm went off to get up, he told her she sucked as he got out of bed, "If this was real life and we had child we would take turns and help each other out but this is an egg and your channel." She mumbles rolling over.

~

"Now it is time to go eat food for the second time today. We ordered the first time so we stayed home with the eggs." Matt explains to the viewers the next day.

"We're gonna bring the eggs to dinner because they're starving little kids." Nick adds before singing Blow by Kesha.

"He's only singing that because I was just listening to that." Dani laughs from the kitchen.

"You coming with to eat?" Matt asks her as he turns the camera off.

"Nah, I'm not that hungry. So you guys feed your kids well." She laughs at them.

Once they got back home from eating out, the boys put the eggs to the drop test. Of course Nick's and Chris's were perfectly fine during the test but Matt's broke since it was already damaged.

"Well, I'll say me and Chris won that challenge." Nick tells viewers.

"Hold on, hold on." Matt speaks up cleaning his egg hands, "Was that it?"

"Yeah, your egg is dead." Nick tells him like he was stupid, "Your egg is-,"

"Clear off the table." Matt tells them.

"Why?" Nick was confused.

"Trust." Dani tells them with a smile.

Once everything was cleared up and Matt had his laptop with him as they all sat at the table, "Alright everyone. It's been real. It's been fun." Matt starts.

"It's been real fun." Chris agrees.

"Real fun." Matt turns his head to look at Nick, "What are you doing?"

"I can see it in your eyes." Nick smiles nervously, "He was looking to attack."

"So my egg broke so technically I lost." Matt speaks up again making Nick say his did break.

"Yeah, okay, I just have one question before we wrap up this video. If we... Were to all crack our eggs. Technically." Matt wants to get a understanding.

"You're scaring me." Nick smiles.

"No, listen, listen." Matt laughs, "Is it technically whose cracked first?"

"Yea." Chris tells him.

"I don't know." Nick says.

"Please." Matt opens up his laptop and Dani starts to giggle at the other two who were confused, "I'm gonna need you guys both to focus up on this four minute video." He tells them.

"What?!" Nick shouts.

"What is going on?" Chris laughs.

"Shh." Matt tells them pressing play and getting up from his seat.

"Hello Nick. Hello Chris. And hello everyone watching this video."

"You look like... Like, a, like a... A villain." Nick pauses the video laughing so Matt tells him to play the video.

"I knew I was not gonna play fair. I was going to win this challenge and I was going to be the best dad of my egg."

Nick quickly looks at his egg, "I was checking to see if my egg was a phony." He tells Matt and Dani smiles with her eyes.

"Be the bad dads that they are."

Nick and Chris were flabbergasted as Matt started to explain his plan in the video, "Shh, Shh, Shh, shut up." Matt tells the two.

"I'm so freaked out." Chris freaks out laughing as Matt tells him to be quiet.

Nick was in such disbelief he takes his hat and his glasses off, "Go back."

"Wait. Wait a second. Wait a second. I am like... I am bamboozled." Chris wanted to get his feelings out.

"This is the most rouge thing I've ever seen in my life." Nick adds.

"This is like... The most effort he's ever put into anything." Chris adds as well before Matt plays the video more.

"Lucky me, I did not do this on purpose. But Chris got caught by a pretty easy distraction. Of his wallet being in the washing machine. I knew Chris would be way too focused on his wallet. And not on his egg. Being on his phone struck the perfect opportunity."

Chris starts to scream as the video shows Matt taking Chris's egg and putting out the fake one.

"Chris's egg was very easy to draw. I just had to make sure the lines did not pass the red like of his head. And make sure his eyes-."

Chris jaw was on the floor before pausing the video jumping up, "There's no way!"

"COME ON!" Matt shouts slamming his fists down on the table, "WATCH IT!"

As Matt starts to talk about Nick being a good egg dad, Chris was looking at his egg. Matt goes to explain how Nick would keep smudging his egg and then shows himself smudging the fake egg to make it look the same. Both Nick and Chris were still in shock as Matt shows him stealing Nick's egg now.

"There were two more things I had to do. One of them was gruesome. It was evil. But, your eggs were my breakfast."

Both Chris and Nick couldn't believe their eyes and ears as Matt tells them they both lost in the video, "That is like... I feel like I don't know who you are." Nick laughs as Matt gives Dani his laptop.

"I was about to say, I don't think I can ever trust Matt the same." Chris laughs tell Nick.

"That was insane." Nick tells Matt as he takes back his seat with them.

"Here's the thing. I- Don't even care that he liked swapped out the eggs. It's the fact he goes... And what did I do? I ate their eggs for breakfast." Chris tells Nick.

"No. that is the most mind blowing thing." Nick was still taken back by the whole thing.

"The other day, I go, Matt are you hungry?" Chris brings it up, "He goes, no I had two eggs for breakfast."

"Little did we know." Nick makes Dani giggle.

"I'm in pure disbelief." Chris, just like Nick couldn't believe it.

"The fact Dani knew all this too." Nick brings her up now.

"I caught her smile at certain things." Chris points over to her, "I didn't think much of it."

"Our boy had to win." Dani speaks up making Matt smile over at her.

"I can't..." Chris gets up walking away.

Once again for bed, Dani was staying in Matt's room for the night. As she laid in bed on her phone, Matt was on his computer thinking to himself. "Did you mean that? Last night?" He turns around to face her.

"Huh?" She looks at him confused.

"When I said you suck for staying in bed. That if we had a kid we would take turns and help each other out?" He repeats her and sees the confused look on her face still, "You can see us lasting that long? To where we have kids together?" He doesn't let his smile slip from his lips.

Dani just looks at him not knowing what to say. Did she see them lasting that long? Yes, but she didn't know how to answer that without scaring him. She didn't see it happening anytime soon but how tell someone you want a life with them. Especially if they haven't even been together for a year.

"I mean..." She sits up, "It's the right thing to do." She tries to doge the question.

"You didn't answer me." He chuckles, "I'll be honest." He gets up to go sit in front of her, "I hope that's something we can do when the time is right."

Dani can't help but smile, "You don't get scared or nervous thinking that far so early?"

"No with you."

[v3n1ce-bxtch]

🔪008 masterlist

CW: fear, stalking

It was one of those quiet days that seemed to drag on forever. You found yourself on your balcony, working on a new piece of art. The paintbrush moved smoothly across the canvas, your mind lost in the rhythmic strokes as you tried to focus on something—anything other than him.

The sun had set hours ago, but the city lights below offered some kind of comfort as you painted. Still, your thoughts weren’t on the piece in front of you; they were on the strange sensation that had been creeping over you lately—an overwhelming feeling of being watched.

You tried to push it aside, but it kept nagging at you. So, you did what any normal person would do: you signed up for a Pilates class. The physical activity, the sweat, the exhaustion—it was a brief escape. You let your muscles burn, hoping they would distract you from the anxiety building up inside.

After the class, you went grocery shopping, filling your cart with the basics—nothing fancy, nothing that might draw attention. Your routine was supposed to bring normalcy, but it never lasted. No matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the thought of Rafe. It wasn’t just the constant fear; it was the strange mix of comfort and dread you felt knowing he was always so close.

Finally, you returned home. The apartment felt colder than it had been before. You put everything away, changed into something more comfortable, and curled up on the couch, trying to lose yourself in an old episode of Desperate Housewives. But the tears started, slow at first, then building into full sobs. You let it all out—everything that had been building up inside you. The fear, the confusion, the anger—it all came crashing down as the show played in the background, its ridiculous drama a stark contrast to your reality.

Rafe had heard you. He was next door, he always was, lurking in the shadows. The apartment next to yours had become his new home. His presence was suffocating, like the walls themselves were closing in on you. You knew he was listening to your tears, and a sick part of you almost wished he wasn’t.

That night, there was another note. You found it outside your door, the envelope so carefully placed. Your heart sank as you opened it and read his elegant, calculated handwriting.

“Meeting me would only scare you away. I think you’re too beautiful to be in the state you’re in. But I’ll wait for you, sweet girl. You deserve peace, and I’ll give it to you. I have no intention of violating or hurting you. You are mine, but I’ll never hurt you. If you need me, just write back and leave the note in front of your door. I’ll be watching for it.”

Your hands shook as you read the words, each sentence digging deeper into the pit of despair growing inside you. He had no intention of hurting you, he claimed, but the very fact that he was even saying that made it worse. How could he not see how twisted all of this was?

Still, you knew what he expected. He wanted you to respond. And despite every part of you wanting to tear the note up, to throw it away and forget about him for just a moment, you did the only thing you could think to do. You wrote back.

Your handwriting was messy, a clear reflection of the storm inside your head.

“You’re creepy. You need to get a grip on yourself, Rafe. What the hell do you even want from me? Why me? Why did you pick me? Some girls might get off on this, but I don’t. I’m not some helpless girl to be controlled. I’m not your toy. I don’t know what you see in me, but I’m telling you right now to stop this. I’m not afraid of you, but I am scared of what this is becoming. And frankly, I don’t want to know you anymore. Go fuck yourself.”

You folded the note, walked to your door, and left it in front of the threshold. You had done it. You had fought back, said what needed to be said. But in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over. Rafe wouldn’t let it be.

You turned and walked back into your apartment, the silence heavy around you. For a moment, you felt like you had taken control, but you knew better than to believe that. You’d written your response, but Rafe always had the last word. He always did.

And so, you waited.

Taglist: @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses @rafesbabygirlx @memoirofasparklemuff1n @sarahsangelicdoll @susanhill @slut4you @moneybaby07 @iluvblue-blog1

[meamiki]

what to do when you forget your umbrella!

i will not elaborate.

((these drawings are a GSNK rain scene reference ADSAFFASD))

bonus isolated (isalated?) running isa as a treat for his birthday:

[umblrspectrum]

happy solvermas