#mr. stitch x reader

[whokilledsamara]

How about Mr. Stitch SFW / NSFW HCs?? :)

MR. STITCH N/SFW HCS

a list of n/sfw hcs for Mr. Stitch :D

warnings || smut, cunnilingus, rough sex, no aftercare, aggressive sexual activity, blood play, blood as lube, sadism, non-con aspects but not fully non-con

{an: sorry i haven't been active, im going thru a depressive episode rn, ily guys and i hope you are all well!}

SFW

its definitely hard to even call what you have with Mr. Stitch a relationship.

Mr. Stitch doesnt understand the needs humans have, nor the emotions they feel. he sees you more as a plaything.

there may be some feelings he has that he just cant seem to understand– but he shows them with little gifts he finds here and there, and even a jacket that looks all to similar to Mr. Humans.

if you sleep, you have to sleep where he can watch you. he refuses to have it any other way.

he often gets into fights with Mr. Crawling– most of the time having to be you who breaks up the argument.

he is a very touchy person. not in a perverse way yes it is but he is constantly touching you.

is absolutely aggressive. he manages to do it in a cute way, seemingly as a game or something. he doesn't act like a villain despite what he does.

even when he isn't near you, his gaze never seems to leave. he could be many rooms away from you and you can still feel his eyes on the back of your head.

he definitely likes scaring you. not in a mean way, he just likes seeing you jump.

a very playful man XD

NSFW

when you have sex, he seems more curious than anything.

he doesn't understand anything other than the fact that it feels really good– sometimes even leading to him overtaking you, not caring about your pleasure.

that however is rare, he wants his plaything happy. just teach him what to do and he will try his best. make sure to tell him not to actually consume you though.

his favorite position is up against a wall. he can easily lift you, but he likes positioning you so easily.

he isn't HUGE down there, definitely not longer than Mr. Crawling, but his length is very thick.

he much enjoys when you bleed as he pounds you. his pace is fast and rough– the blood making it easier for him to slide in.

is one to bite very often. expect to leave with many many bite marks and bruises on you.

takes pleasure in your pain. likes to watch you begging him to stop from the overstimulation leven as he doesn't.

most of the time, sex is random. he definitely doesn't warn you before he does it. as said, will just slam you against the wall.

has no idea what aftercare is, so unless you teach him– don't expect it.

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[green-tea-456]

Im too lazy to draw smth so have a meme

[frozrowan]

Ghost homies✌🏼

[hima-matta04]

~~~~Their thoughts on quickies~~~~

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, jealousy, public sex, forcefulness (but not r@pe), slight cock warming, spit as lube, choking, glory hole, slight oral, cum eating, praise, masturbation, (huge trigger warning on scarletella’s bc of manipulation and murder)

Characters included: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped (with body 😀), Mr. Stitch, Mr. Gap, Mr. Scarletella, and Mr. Machete.

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Mr. Crawling

He always likes to be very caring and sensual with you when the both of you ‘get down to business’. However, the day that he almost lost you to Mr. Stitch, he couldnt help but want to be as close as possible to you. 

He had his cock tucked deep within your walls, moaning softly as he streched you around him. The entire time he muttered and wispered sweet things in your ear like “love you” and “not losing you ever”. That night he wished to get you pregnant…

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Mr. Stitch

Oh he loves to have fun with you. Your body, that is. If hes in the mood for it he’ll take you right where you stand. Even if youre out in the open, he doesnt care. He’s nice enough to at least spit on his fingers to make you wet.

He’ll shove his entire length into you all at once. He doesnt even need time to adjust, and apparently he doesnt think you do either. He pounds you at whatever pace or speed he wants. As he chases his high, he’ll wrap a calloused hand around your throat, chuckling when you struggle to breath as he cum hard inside of you.

Mr. Stitch will then leave, not caring to even try to make you cum. Not even an ounce of aftercare from him other than a pat on the head. He’ll leave you there alone, dripping with his seed.

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Mr. Gap

He’s a huge tease. One day he’s pestering about giving him a peice of you, but when you ask what he wants he simply replies “your body”, without warning, he’ll pull you into the hole in the wall where he is. He wastes no time climbing on top of you, kissing down your neck as his hands hastily grap at your breasts and hips.

When he finds your panties they end up soaked on the ground as he passionately fucks you while rubbing your clit and praising your body and how good you feel. Other times, you find him grabbing onto your thighs and pulling you to the gaps. His crusty hands hold your thighs tightly in place as he fucks you from inside the wall while you have to force yourself to look normal as people walk by. Lets just say his little act of neediness didnt go unpunished later that day.

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Mr. Silvair

Mr silver only likes quickies when the two of you are completely alone. He sees it as a quick brain break from whatever hes focused on and sometimes he likes to sink himself into you after hours of studying. He especially likes it when you walk in his office unannounced and perch yourself on his desk in front of him. He’ll stop whatever he’s doing just to passionately fill you up with cock.

As he pumps inside of you he likes to caress your sides and your shoulders and tell you how much he needed this. Once you finally cum on his throbbing cock, he’ll speed up to his own pace to finish himself off before releasing in your mouth for you to swallow. Once he makes sure that you’re unhurt and satisfied, he’ll gently lay you on the closest bed and kiss your forehead before continuing his work. 

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Mr Chopped with body

I cant help but feel like when he first gets hus body, he gets hard from the slightest things. The look in your eyes when you smile at him? He’s excusing himself to relieve himself. The time your hand brushed against his? His tip was already leaking with pre cum. Of course this because extremely noticeable over maybe a week of his self pleasuring habits, so thats when you told him you’d be glad to help him.

Now, everytime you provoked him in any way, all he had to do was tug at your sleeve a little and give you puppy dog eyes, and you’d let him take you to any empty room and needily rut into you. His first time was just the cutest! He was a wimpering, moaning mess as you did as little as jerk him off. Now every time his the slightest but horny, he’s pulling you to the closest corner, not matter if theres people around, and he fucks you hard and fast… its a little painful but he never lasts long.

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Mr. Scarletella

The second he sees you speaking to anyone but him, you’re shoved into a space as small as a closet for all he cares. You can cry and beg him with “its too much”, but Mr. Scarletella isn’t going to stop until the only name you can remember is his. He usually liked to just think about you in various positions, completely broken on his cock. The murderous grin that stretched across his face when he finally had the opportunity and reason to break you confirmed it.

He’ll make you ride him first until your legs are limp and completely useless. Then, he’ll grasp you by the waist, stand up, and use you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy. All of this while he degrades and manipulates you. Depending on who you’re talking to, he might kill them right in front of you and force you to look at the dead body while he fucks you, licking the tear rolling down your cheek. Of course Mr. Scarletella will reel you back into his heart by showing you affectionate aftercare and many soft kisses.

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Mr. Machete

Normally thats the only way he fucks you. Fast, random, and with no foreplay in sight. He does it without warning too. Like suddenly picking you up, no matter who you’re talking to, and gently carrying you to an empty room where he practically rips your clothes off (if you dont protest) and smiles stupidly.

The thing about Mr. Machete is that if he fucks you, you need to be completely naked for him. And he loves it when you ride him! He gently traces the bump from his cock on your tummy while bucking his hips up into yours. Surprisingly, he doesnt fuck you as rough as he possibly can unless you tease, or provoke him in any way. He makes sure to take things at your pace, especially since hes not about to eat you out or finger you. Its the least he can do.

[aimeryaa]

“He don’t bite” YES HE DO

This audio is always forever funny for me and it fits them perfectly

[bloodblanks]

do homicipher characters experience arousal?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dark-raven-666]

For the homicipher men falling in love you made..may I ask if you will make a part 2 was really getting all giddy seeing your post but then mr.hood wasn't there 😭 man deserves some love too

Homicipher x reader (gn) headcanons.

How they love p 2

Warnings: Mr Hugeface is toxic

✧༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻✧

Mr. Hood

When he first met you he felt like needed to protect you, like you were a tiny creature that was so helpless and needed him.

He never expected you to come back and thank him each time.

"Thanking me? Why? "

It seems that no one there is kind or even grateful, he's never been thanked. It feels nice, warm.

Then you do it again, and again, and again.

He expected you to leave, use his help and never come back, but you did.

As the rest he never realizes what love is bit he feels protective of you.

Mr Crawling is too weak and Mr machete runs away. He's the only one capable of protecting you

Mr. Machete

Now this guy can't handle weaklings or kind soft people, sorry not sorry.

If you can't keep up with him and fight why would he bother with you?

Now let's say you can fight. He's intrigued. Very intrigued.

It takes you very long time even land a hot on him but when you do.. His heart goes doki doki and he immediately respects you (loves you)

He will demand to fight again and each time you win he will be bashful instead of upset.

Wow you got a hit on THE Mr machete.

Mr. Silvair

You're a human in the ghost realm so you've already got his attention.

He wants to research you and push you to your limits.

He does ask for consent to work on you but if you get violet you're ending up like Mr chopped.

He has clear boundaries and needs you to understand that he is stronger than you. You're the subject, he's the researcher.

Now if you get through all of that he'll be kind enough to give you anesthesia when researching.

One day you wake up with an actual heart on your bedside table. That's his gratitude. Never mention it again or he'll never love you again.

From then on he considers you two lovers and will sometimes give you small smiles as he works and teach you stuff.

Mr. Hugeface.

Tiny human, so fun, so cute.

Literally incapable of love only obsession.

If you're kind enough to obey him and be his little doll. Be obedient in your room maybe he'll get you a few gifts, a book or two.

He's so childish and will throw a tantrum if his doll is not perfect. How dare you have messy hair!?

Will get you clothes and style your hair like you're a Barbie.

That's your life now eternally. You're a doll. And perfect dolls are always pretty and happy.

All throughout toxic.

Mr. Stitch

This man is perfect for maladaptive daydreamers.

You met him when he took you from Mr Crawling, well kidnapped you, but when you get in that bus, you travel in the abyss with him.

Ever since then, that became you two's favorite hobby. To get on the bus, share stories, cuddle a bit, he will Yap to no end and tell you of his adventures and how he plans to take you on many!

He shows love by making you little things, like old cloth you found? It's a dress now. He isn't called Mr stitch for no reason.

You were heitamt at first but then the world of daydreams and the abyss with no stress takes you like a dream.

You love him just as much.

He thinks you're a fun person who treats him well and laughs with him.

Most of your time is spent giggling at his jokes and he likes that.

No matter where or when he picks you up, when he does you're going to adventure.

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing the Homicipher Characters to Your Plushies - Pt. 2

The Homicipher Characters come to you in hopes for whatever insanity they plan to drag you into, you instead have a different plan! Showing them your plushies!

Notes: Gender Neutral Reader ! This part includes Mr. Hugeface, Mr. Stitch, Mr. Masque, and Mr. Wheelchair !

Part one here !

Mr. Hugeface

His little human is so cute!!! Look at these small little creatures that they adore!!!!

Honestly they remind him of you!! Because that's what he sees when he looks at you.

I think he already adores plushies to begin with, not that there's an extreme amount in his world but we do know that they're there! We have seen teddy bears!

So once he knows that you not only love them, you have an entire collection, he's so endeared!!

He wants to meet all of them and know their names.

He gives you head pats with his finger because you're just such an adorable little human!

He looks at you and your plushies with such love. Not sure he's ever been more content in his life than this moment.

Mr. Stitch

Such a cute human! He 1000% had other plans to take you on some of incredibly dangerous adventure, but you started talking about your plushies and how could he stop you?

It's fine, he can have his fun later. For now, he'll sit down and enjoy listening to you show off your tiny little creatures.

Feels a small sense of comradery with them? Like look, they all have stitches too!!!

He hopes because of that fact that when you look at them now you think of him.

Admittedly he will get bored eventually, so it might be something you have to do in small amounts if you have that many plushies.

But it's fine!!! As long as he doesn't have to sit still for too long he'll listen each time.

Doesn't really retain most of the information you tell him but it's fine, he's too busy squishing your face anyway for you to quiz him.

Mr. Masque

He's excited to get acquainted with all your plushies!!!

Will learn the names and everything just for you! And will acknowledge how important they are to you.

Can't hold himself back from giving you a bunch of kisses. He can't help but find you so adorable.

Will perform little magic tricks with them if you allow him.

Nothing insane, actually he more of less uses it for cute little things.

You're sad or hurt? One of your favorite plushies will suddenly appear on your lap.

You'll walk into a room and one of them will be holding out a bouquet of flowers or some other sort of gift for you.

His surprises with them can jumpscare you sometimes, but you always adore them nonetheless because they will be sweet gestures in some way.

Mr. Wheelchair

He doesn't really come off as the type to ever really care about any sort of plush toy. At least not at the point he is now.

But it does make you happy, so he will listen.

And I think by the time you finish talking, he's gonna see the appeal.

He doesn't understand how such an object can bring such comfort, but he'll acknowledge that fact for you.

He notices how you hold them when you're upset or suffering in some way.

Eventually he wants to try hold them as well when he's having a hard time.

Surprisingly, he finds a lot of comfort in them too afterward.

[kanroji-san]

*Homicipher men's faces and wrists full of kiss marks*

Ms Bride: What happened to all of you?

Homicipher men: Mc had a lipstick haul...

[unknownlemoneater]

Spoiler warning undercut ig

MC POV

[manmadejoyswithinmycomprehension]

would u write anything for homicipher’s mc (Adami) x gn reader…IM STARVING!!! I leave it up to ur imagination

HELL YEAHHHHHHHHH would you believe me if I said I did it already :3 a bit slow burn-ish, I cannot write without a fuck ton of context but enjoy mc saving u from Mr. Stitch bwhwwhhewhheqhhehwehwhehwheb I love her sm

You didn't know how you ended up there or when it happened. It just did. It took you a while to comprehend where exactly you had been transported. Hoping to meet someone else in this worn down place, you aimlessly wandered through the empty rooms and hallways. Coincidentally, you saw another man - tall, with a red jacket and furry hood. He rounded a corner and out of your sight, which prompted you to run after him without thinking of the consequences. As he passed by a door, it slammed open, and a pale hand dragged him in, the blood of the innocent man instantly splattering all over the floor and the surrounding surfaces. You cover your mouth and let out a small squeak before seeking shelter.

Thankfully, you found a pair of scissors lying around. That should come in handy! Shivering, cold, and distraught, you went slower this time, looking for human activity and someone worthy of your trust. A loud rumble echoed throughout the entire place, making tears well up in your eyes from the powerful scare. Was this your end? The hallway you were exploring split into two, and you ran back into an adjacent room. It seemed cleaner than the others, the wallpaper still mostly intact, a bed and a dusty table. On the bed sat a girl with short, white hair and blood stains in her raincoat. Oh, God. This is it. You're gonna die just like that man. You could just hope it was painless.

The figure croaked out something that you couldn't understand. It seemed to try two languages before finally deciding on just one. It pointed at you, repeating a word multiple times before the message was received by your disheveled mind: "You." She was saying "You." Then, she pointed to herself. "Me." Back then, you didn't know that "You" and "Me" would become so important later on.

You sat down on the floor, in front of her, looking up at the stained raincoat and the dirty crowbar that lay on the bed next to her hip.

"Me? You?" you said, moving your hands to check if you understood well. Her nod confirms your suspicions. Then, she points to different objects in the room and demonstrates how the language works. It felt like a breath of fresh air, having someone talk to you like an equal, in a place where you had been so violently proven that your life meant nothing. The bond had already started forming.

It only took a few hours for you to learn that primitive way of communication, and you started teaching her bits and pieces of your human language while she did the same for you. Using this, she introduced herself: Adami. Such a beautiful name... It had an exquisite ring, compared to the rough sounds of the ghostly people.

Soon, it became all about "You" and "Me." At first, you'd brush against her for comfort when a new entity approached. Then, slowly, she'd be the one to hold your hands when you were scared or when Mr. Gap appeared out of nowhere. "You, me, go together," "you, me, stay together" or "you, me, rest together."" It was sweet, having someone protect you in such a world. You didn't have the guts to question your relationship. Perhaps you were her comfort, maybe she saw in you what she once was. You were her anchor when she lost her temper, and she was your shield when a threat was nearby.

Nothing was clear to you. Friends did all of this, too, right? You were walking hand in hand, giggling at a joke Adami made when Mr. Stitch blocked your path.

"Me bored. Want fun?"

"No." she cuts him off furiously, shoving past him.

"Want fun! Want fun together them!"

The deranged ghost grips your arm, pulling you towards him as Adami holds onto your fingers.

"Them will not! You should leave!"

However silly this game of tug-o-war looked to an outsider, you were beyond frightened. Mr. Stitch was obviously not into the fun a normal person would resort to on a bad day. He was into the kind of fun that serial killers sought when sending body parts to the police. It was clear Adami couldn't help you - she'd hurt you in the process. Mr. Stitch ripped you from her arms, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of meat and ran off to God knows where. He hid you in the Cloth Monster's room, wrapping you in the long curtains that decorated it. Giggling, he gripped your throat and slithered the soft material around it, torturing you as he loosened and tightened it. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you gasped for air when the door slammed open.

Coughing when your lungs could finally expand again, your vision was still blurred when Mr. Stitch transformed into a jumbled up mass of meat right before you. A trembling hand ripped off the fabric and you felt the familiar presence of Adami engulfing you in a hug.

"Me scared..."

Your heart throbbed wildly as you returned the tender embrace, removing her hood to get a closer look at her features. No matter how much she transformed, her eyes were always full of warmth when she gazed at you.

"Love... You and me together... Me love you..." she whispers, her free hand tilting your face up. Adami gets closer, giving you the choice to accept or reject her. You instantly press your lips together, your bodies melting into each other as you let your feelings overflow, your only regret being that you hadn't seen it sooner.

It didn't take long for the other residents to pick up on what was going on between the two of you. Moreover, Adami didn't even look at the cold, metallic doors of the elevator with the same curiosity as she did when she first descended into the other world. To her, it now meant separation, as you two would return to your respective places on Earth. What good was the freedom of humanity, when there was nothing left of her without you? At first, you thought she might want to go back to her old life, yet she always held your hand tighter. "You, me... together here."

[rollinouttahere-writes-misc]

what this?

Mr. Stitch x Reader

2.2k words

Summary: You venture back to the room where things from your world fall during earthquakes in hopes of finding something useful, but instead you're forced to put up with Mr. Stitch expecting you to satiate his boredom.

Warnings: mentions of losing limbs and violence but overall very tame

The monster language is depicted bold and crossed out like this. I hope the three other Mr. Stitch fans enjoy this lol

All that could be heard as you made your way down the dimly lit hall was the sound of your raincoat swishing with your movements, and the quiet drag of cloth and skin over the concrete from Mr. Crawling trailing just behind you at a leisurely pace.

As it stood, you were at a loss for what you were supposed to do to get out of this world. You haven’t been able to find the elevator again, and at this point, you feel like you’re going to have to wait for another earthquake to happen and move the layout around in order to locate it again. But, until that happens, you’re going to have to stick to what you know, and what you do know is that there is a room with a bunch of miscellaneous things from your world in it. 

While you didn’t really know what exactly you were hoping to find, you figured that that room was your best shot at finding something potentially helpful to your current situation. Something like a useful tool, or maybe you’ll really hit the jackpot and find some packaged food from your world. Shockingly, despite how long you’ve been trapped here, you didn’t feel that hungry. Your desire for food felt more akin to a craving than the kind of hunger you know you should be feeling by now, but you figured getting some real food into you would make you feel at least a little bit better. If it could lessen your headache by even a little bit, that alone would be enough to make you happy.

You were so desperate that you were becoming tempted to try asking Mr. Gap to find some for you in exchange for another finger or something, but you really aren’t sure how you would communicate such a request to him. That, and you had a feeling he would probably bring you something he found in a trash can and hold onto the better stuff in order to extort you for more body parts. That seems like a very Mr. Gap thing to do.

Finally, the room you were looking for came into view, and you stopped at the doorway to survey it.

Mr. Crawling spoke up behind you. “you want here?” He inched forward until his frame was squeezed between you and the doorway.

You look down at him and nod, “me want here.”

“why here?”

The question gives you pause as you rack your foggy brain for the best way to word your intentions with your limited vocabulary. How do you tell him that you’re here to look for something, but that you also don’t know what that something is?

“why here?” The question was proposed again, but it wasn’t from Mr. Crawling this time.

Before you can assess anything, another face abruptly lurches out from one side of the doorway, so close that you can feel their nose touch yours. You let out a less than dignifying shriek and stumble back, tripping over and then falling on top of Mr. Crawling. His arms give out from the surprise, leading to both of you hitting the floor with a dull thud.

The person that startled you starts cackling loudly, clearly quite pleased with himself. You would recognize that obnoxious, mischievous laughter anywhere. Your eye twitches in aggravation and you lunge forward with your crowbar, narrowly missing him.

“Dammit, Mr. Stitch! You scared the hell out of me!” You readjust your hood so you can properly glare at the troublemaker in front of you. He has a smug grin on his face as he looms over you, clearly unbothered by your outburst. You inhale deeply, then speak to him in a way he can actually understand, “you bad! stop!” 

Your attempt at lecturing him falls completely flat. Mr. Stitch chuckles and crouches down while speaking in a tone that was nothing short of condescending, “you sad? mad?” He reaches out and knocks your hood off before aggressively ruffling your hair. “pet, pet!” His voice became much more squeaky as he said that. It took a moment, but then you realized he was trying to mimic Mr. Crawling’s high pitched voice.

Ah. He was mocking him. You slap the offending hand away and are about to take another swing at him with your trusty crowbar when two arms wrap around your middle and drag you back. One hand drifts up and strokes your hair gently in a vague attempt at fixing the mussed hair. Mr. Crawling’s chin settles on your shoulder “you hurt? them pain you?” The arm still around your waist tightens slightly.

Mr. Crawling’s presence forces your boiling ire down into a simmer, and you sigh. “me not hurt.” You take a moment to mull over how to express that you’re annoyed more than anything. Annoying is definitely a word you need to learn how to say if you’re going to keep running into Mr. Stitch. Maybe Mr. Chopped would be able to teach it to you? Annoyance seems to be a prevalent emotion in his experience with being a disembodied head in a realm full of antagonistic spirits.

Whatever, you suppose that dictating your precise feelings isn’t particularly important right now. Mr. Stitch is a pain in your ass, but that’s about it. He hasn’t been directly hostile towards you, at least not yet, and seems to have more of a preference for playing pranks more than anything. Like when he tricked you into getting on some weird ghost bus with him yesterday and wouldn’t tell you how to get off it until you tried to beat him. A frustrating experience, but ultimately harmless.

You pry yourself out of Mr. Crawling’s grasp and get back on your feet, then level Mr. Stitch with a half-hearted glare, “why you here?”

Mr. Stitch also took the opportunity to stand. He shrugs and stuffs his hands into the pockets of the coat that he “found”, “bored.” He glances down at the junk he’s standing on and kicks a small box across the room. His eye darts back to you and his grin widens, “you want play?”

“me not want play,” you’re quick to shut him down. You do not want to go on another adventure with him. The ghost bus may not have been that bad, but you have your doubts that continued outings with Mr. Stitch will always be so benign. You shoulder past him and march into the room, and you can hear Mr. Crawling trailing close behind. Once you’re in the center of the room, you take a cursory look around, hoping that something useful will stick out to you.

Nothing does, because of course not. Why would anything here be so straightforward?

Might as well get to work. You crouch down and start pushing and lifting various objects to expose anything potentially hiding beneath. From your peripherals, you can see Mr. Stitch approaching again. He stops not far from where you are and watches you for a moment before speaking up again, “why you here? want item?”

Oh, right. You still haven’t explained what you were doing here, to neither him nor Mr. Crawling. You nod, “me want item.”

The confirmation of what your goal was made Mr. Crawling perk up, “what item you want?”

His question makes you internally cringe because you don’t know how to say ‘I have no idea and am hoping for a miracle here’ in monster speak or whatever their language was called. So instead, you just tell him, “me not know.”

Mr. Crawling looks puzzled by your answer and exchanges a glance with an equally confused Mr. Stitch, but ultimately follows your lead and starts rummaging through the piles of stuff in the room.

For a while, you’re left to dig through the junk in relative silence. Mr. Crawling would periodically hold up random items to see if that was what you wanted, though nothing found had piqued your interest yet. Mr. Stitch had grown bored of watching you and was now wandering around the room aimlessly, occasionally examining an object that caught his eye, presumably wanting to find something new to prank people with.

Mercifully, your luck turns and you find something under the rubble. Your eyes light up as you grab onto and pull out a small radio from what it was buried in. You brush off the handheld radio and look it over. 

A radio wasn’t necessarily useful. You highly doubt that there is a how-to-escape-a-ghost- dimension station, but you can’t deny that it would be nice to hear some music or words in your own language. Beggars can’t be choosers, and you aren’t about to complain about something that could at the very least provide a mood boost.

Hair tickles at your cheek as Mr. Crawling peers over your shoulder, “item you want?”

“maybe.” You give a noncommittal answer. Sure, this caught your attention, but you knew full well that this radio was going to do nothing to help you. Mr. Crawling appears to understand what you mean and resumes sifting through the room.

Balancing on the uneven, junk covered ground would have been inconvenient at the best of times. With how lightheaded you have been as of late, it feels like an accident waiting to happen. You hike up your dress with one hand to keep it from getting caught on any debris and make your way to the nearest doorway so you can sit down.

Once there, you set the radio in your lap and flip the switch on the side to turn it on. It crackles to life, which gives you a spark of hope. The only noise leaving the speaker was static, so you start twisting the dial to try and tune into a specific station. Absolutely nothing changes as you spin the knob. There’s not so much as a hint of music or someone’s voice, it’s nothing but empty static. You twist it back and forth frantically a few more times before giving up and turning it back off with a scowl. You suppose it was on you for getting excited. That TV you saw once before also only displayed static.

A figure plops down next to you, forcing you to scoot over so that he isn’t practically in your lap. You look to the side and see Mr. Stitch making himself comfortable next to you. His eye is locked onto the radio sitting in your lap. Then he smirks and snatches it up. He holds it away from you, dangling it out of reach, “you want this?”

“not want that,” you say with a huff as you lean against the wall.

Mr. Stitch deflates instantly at your response, “not want? disappointed.” Just like that, his interest in the object dies and he drops it on the ground. Much like a child, he appears to want things only when someone else is playing with it. Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at his petulant behavior. 

His foot nudges the radio gently, then he elbows your side while pointing at it, “what this?”

Is he quizzing you? You hadn’t taken him for the type to care about your comprehension of the local language. After racking your brain for the right words, you answer, “machine item.”

Apparently your answer was insufficient because his brow furrows and he shakes his head. He points at the radio again, then at you, “what this your language?”

You blink in surprise as you figure out what he meant. He wanted to know what you called it in your world. Now that you think about it, you’re pretty sure that he’s the first person to inquire about your language. At least, he’s the first person to ask that you could understand. Maybe someone asked previously and you just didn’t know it because you hadn’t gotten a good enough grasp on the language yet.

He nudges you again, looking increasingly exasperated, and successfully snaps you out of your thoughts. You pick the radio up, then say its name “Radio. Ra-di-o.”

For a moment, he tilts his head and stares hard at it, then tries to mimic the word, “Rrr-adi-o.” The mouth movements were blatantly alien to him. The language here was best described as wispy and heavily reliant on pitch. All of the words that you had learned thus far were single syllable and flowed off the tongue gently, so the harshly divided syllables all crammed into one word were very much throwing him off. 

The butchered attempt at the word makes you giggle, “You’re putting too much emphasis on the ‘R’. Say it like this: ra-di-o.” You aren’t sure why you tried to explain it to him given that he certainly wouldn’t comprehend it, but it is what it is.

“ra-DI-o,” he said it again, this time putting all of the emphasis on the second syllable. It was a bit overstated, but sounded correct enough, so you smile and nod. Mr. Stitch perked up, saying the word again and looking quite proud of himself, “Radio! sound wrong!”

You chuckle a little. The word does sound wrong when compared to the language here, he isn’t incorrect about that. Still, it was nice to be the one teaching for once.

Mr. Stitch bends down and grabs the nearest object and holds it up to you, “what this?”

It seems like you’re going to be here for a while. Oh well. Out of all the games he could want to play, a language learning one is about as innocuous as it gets.

[karasshit]

𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔 (part 1)

In Chapter 5 when you encounter Mr. Human if you play the game in English he will speak in Japanese, however if you play it in Japanese or Chinese it will change to English.

[sasumeourlu]

Conquest {1/3}

Scarletella x you

This story takes place after Adami Adashino leaves. Hope you all enjoy a bit, even though I translated it on Google and had a lot of conversion misunderstandings --------------------------* . 💧 .*------------------------ A day of walking in the sun and some outdoors, who knew you would regret it so much.

Maybe it was the pain in your back, or the sudden energy that forced you to leave the den you sweetly called home, but you found yourself determined to stretch your legs in this little town. Putting on some casual clothes, you soon took the elevator down and went to the central square, where had walked around a few times, and when you was satisfied, quickle turned towards the main street. Until returned to residence, the weather was clear, but when you set foot on the corner of the apartment complex, the weather closed in.

The rain completely soaked you, your t-shirt stuck to your torso as if it depended on it, not to mention your sneakers, which soon made you want to rip them off and throw them into the street, with that disconcerting feeling of damp feet.

Entering the elevator and pressing floor 4, yes, that floor that was said to bring bad luck and misfortune, but hey, it was the only one with places you could afford, and it wouldn't be tradition or superstition that would make you miss this opportunity, besides, nothing has happened to you so far, right?

A loud noise was heard, and the bright lights turned red, joining in a maddening dizziness that made you crouch on the ground and cover your ears.

What the fuck?! - It was the last thing you said before everything went black. --------------------------* . 💧 .*------------------------

Your eyes opened and nothing more than pure decline stood before you, rubble and a dim light stretched across the hallway. Instinctively, turning back, seeing that the means of exit was clearly out of power, the bad thing, or perhaps worse, was the one next to the metal doors.

A thin, emaciated man sat there. Her skin was sewn together with dots of different colors and a incredible pink hair, not to mention this blue eye that seemed to shine in the near darkness. In outrageous theatricality, he raised both arms upwards, and made an irritating and high-pitched “eheheh” sound, seeming to mock someone. Without warning, he threw himself at your feet, grabbing the legs with crushing force, shouting loudly something that clearly couldn't be understood.

-Play, fun! Different human!

Doubt invaded your mind, what to do?

-What? - you asked, confused.

-Don't understand? - he responded

Damn, of all things that could happen, not understanding what someone was saying was really frustrating. Your discomfiture increased when he stood up, and his height scared you. Mind you, yourself had never been very short, but this guy? It was twice your size. Extending his arms to wrap around you, your response was to bend down and slide out of reach of this happy animal, it would be stupid to allow it to grab you and see what happened. The sound of your wet shoes was deafening, in contrast to the dry footsteps of your pursuer right behind you. Luckily or unluckily, you managed to jump over a table and turn into an open window on the side, which with a thud, made you fall into a pipe that brought a bit of claustrophobia until you reached the end. Your heart was beating fast and the breathing was crying out for more air.

TUM!

Your nose hit the hard brick wall, leading you to a strange position with your face crushed into the construction and legs hanging from the pipe, leaving you hovering in the air. With difficulty, you slipped in a way that allowed for the least painful fall possible, and by divine glory, your feet were on the ground again.

--------------------------* . 💧 .*------------------------

Hello! I thought of a small 3-part draft, which was very musical in my language (Portuguese), but when translated on Google it was discouraging to say the least. Well, I hope I complete this and someone finds it at least funny, even if it's extremely short and without many details, since this was more of an experiment.

[unlovablelover]

hey chat is ur pal yoohoo here droppin the stitch x reader i wrote too bad the ending was halfassed and i think stitch is a bit ooc UGH i hate ooc anwyay enjoi and let me sleep btw happy christmas and merry new year im sory late btw mr gap sneak in!!! ehhehehe!!!!

Doll?

Mr. Stitch

(woaa?!)

"Me want play, you walk! Bad! Bad!"

...How did this happen?

You tried to recall the earlier events that caused the undead man to trail behind you, your brows furrowed in both focus and annoyance. The focus was for finding a way out from this rubble-filled room and as for the annoyance - well, you could only listen to so much me-want-plays before it got to you.

"Keep quiet for once..." Your tone was harsher by the end of your sentence, a hardened glare shot at the one you call Mr. Stitch, who only stared you down like there was nothing going on in that head of his. If he had an eyelid to blink with, you bet he would've responded with only a couple of blinks.

"Not understand. You want play?" His earlier question returns, and you let out a long groan. Right, that was how this happened - he asked to play with you, and you didn't give him a proper answer before walking away. You only had yourself to blame when he started following you, well, more like chasing you down until the ground shook and engulfed you both. Now, the both of you were surrounded by rubble and garbage with no way out.

"For fuuuuuck's sake, I don't want to play!" You crash out, hands gripping the ends of your hair.

"I don't want anything to do with you! You're annoying and frustrating and so much more! I just want to survive in this hellhole, and you're actively trying to get me in dang-" Just as you were about to turn to look at him, you felt something hit you in the face, which caused the anger inside you to bubble even more. Just what was the problem with all the residents here, throwing stuff in your face! You hold whatever the thing he threw at you was, clutching it tightly you were sure it would break.

"You motherfuc-" The sensation of holding something soft distracted you from your wrath temporarily, just enough for him to come close to you without having his head blasted off. You look down to see a doll, poorly mended with loose seams, damage and dirt all over it. The doll, despite its poor conditions, made you feel a pang of something - something you've long forgotten, something you've long abandoned.

His chuckles snap you out from your small moment of serenity, eyes meeting with his sole unblinking one. "You like?" He asks, taking the doll from your hands. You're immediately hit with a sense of dread as the memories came flooding back. The doll brought back so many memories, the memories of when you were human, more specifically the memories of when you were just a bullied kid, truly human.

< >

"Give it back! Please!" The timid voice turned hoarse after a long while of crying and begging, the tiny form it belonged to barely reaching the hung doll in the hand of a bully. No matter how much they jumped and how far they stood on their tip-toes, it was always out of reach.

The bullies, kids who were supposedly innocent, were wicked in ways adults couldn't, wouldn't notice. Pretending to be potential friends, that was how they stole the precious doll from the little one's hands.

"You can't have a prettier doll than me!" The leader speaks, waving the doll around in her grubby hands. Seeing the look of terror on their face, she only grins wider - handing the doll to her twin as they both hold it on each end.

Without another word, save for a few cackles, they hold the doll tightly and pulled until the sound of a rip rang in the air.

<>

The sound was a bit too realistic for a simple flashback, and surely when you snapped back into reality you were met with the sight of the doll having its arm torn forcefully. By who else, if not by Mr. Stitch? Immediately, your eyes widened in alarm as you snatch the doll (and its torn arm) away from him, clutching it tightly to your chest.

"No!" Your voice shook when you exclaimed, which he picked up on. Noticing the way he stared, which was the look he gave whenever he planned on doing something worse than his prior action, you fix your tone - albeit your wariness still came through. "Desire not break." The words come out mumbled as you brace yourself for whatever he had planned next, be it snatching the doll from you or something worse.

Instead, he remains unmoving where he was.

"Why desire not break doll?"

His question made you bite your lower lip as the gears in your head worked hard to find an answer. You couldn't tell him that you just didn't want it broken, knowing he's one to do the opposite of what you wanted simply because he likes seeing you so troubled. He takes another step closer, demanding an answer in a not-so-subtle manner as his hand reaches to hover near the doll, threatening to take it.

"-your look same!" The words leave without much thought, your eyes frantically meeting with his. His hand stops inching closer, head tilted in a confused manner.

"My look same?" He repeats, pointing to the doll and then himself. Well...the doll did look similar to him, the stitches made it seem like so. Not to mention the different colors of fabric poorly stitched up. Silence hangs over you both when he makes a face - an offended one, so it seems? You weren't sure, his face wasn't exactly the most expressive without eyebrows. Perhaps it was both confusion and offense.

"Yes," was all you could answer with at the moment, trying to figure out the proper words for what you wanted to convey next.

"Your look same. Break doll, break you...me not want."

With your eyes still in intense eye contact with his, the both of you simply stare at each other. You could see that he was processing the words you just spoke, trying to decipher what exactly you were trying to say. For a moment, you swore when you saw the wave of realization wash over his face, you could catch a glimpse of giddiness along with it, accompanied by the smile he always wore. You paid no mind - instead, averting your attention to the doll you secured.

Holding the doll in one hand, you take a better look at it. It...didn't look exactly the same as the one you had in your childhood, it looked worse even - but it reminded you that you were once human, and you wanted to keep it, in hopes that it'll keep any semblance of humanity you still had inside you. Nothing someone, something like Mr. Stitch could ever understand.

The other hand, held the torn arm of the doll. There was no way you could put it back where it was supposed to be without a needle and a thread. Even though you doubted there would be any lying around, you crouched and rummaged through the garbage on the floor anyway. Mr. Stitch watched you, before rummaging through the garbage himself, though he did it more aimlessly...

"...Here, here."

Ah, that familiar voice! You knew he'd call for you sooner or later - he always knew when to come whenever you were in need of something. You get closer to the gap the voice came from, conversing with the being living in the darkness before asking for the things you wanted. Surprisingly, he understood you quick and manifested the items right away. After setting them down (and muttering grumbles of disappointment when you refused to give him your fingers) he disappears, leaving you to yourself and the undead man who was crouching behind you, watching the whole ordeal without as much as a squeak.

"What thing do?" Startled, you jolt at the sound of his voice so near to you. You turn your head only to be face to face with Mr. Stitch, who stared you down eagerly with that uncanny smile of his.

Sighing, you scoot back a little before sitting down on the floor, items laid out in front of you. You point to the two newly acquired items, watching him as he settles down in front of you - for some reason, it reminded you of teaching a little kid.

"Tool, fix doll." You began to demonstrate the ways to use the needle and thread, slipping the thread into the needle hole after a minute of embarrassing failure and slowly reattaching the doll's arm with caution. The whole while, Mr. Stitch watches with keen interest, your words of the doll looking like him still repeating in his head.

The more he watches, the more he sees the similarities the doll shares with him. It isn't just the appearance, you know, he talks to the you inside his head. He wonders if the doll has spent the same amount of time as him, waiting for someone to play with it again. Hours, days, months, years? What did it feel the whole time? He knows the doll isn't capable of feeling bored or disappointed like him, but your words - maybe it's not just the looks. Maybe it's not the doll that's similar to him, maybe it's the opposite. He was the one similar to the doll.

...Well, at least there was one thing differing the both of them now. Since you picked up the doll, that means it now has someone to play with - but what about him?

He doesn't know what the twisting, hurting feeling inside him is, but it oddly makes him want to snatch the doll away from you. To replace the doll with himself - he can play nice just like the doll too, you know! Maybe he also needs some caring, just like what you were currently doing to it! If you would just, give him a chance!!! You'll like him just like how you like the doll!

His inner turmoil goes unnoticed by you, too focused on fixing the doll up. When you were done, you raised your hardwork up in the air to take a better look, a smile on your face as if you had fun with it - without doing anything? That was it for him, how could a mere doll make you have fun without doing anything?! When he tried so hard and failed?!

"Not like doll!" He lets the truth slip out, trying to take the doll from your hands. Thankfully, you managed to dodge right before he could attack, immediately securing the doll in your embrace. The sudden change in behavior puzzled you so much you could only stare at him. However, knowing you couldn't dodge his hand forever, you collect yourself and asked why.

"Why not like?"

Only when you asked did he realize that he - had no answer for you, at all. It wasn't that he disliked the doll itself, he could care less about it. It's just, ah, he knows now. His demeanor shifts into something much more...tamer, his eye never leaving yours. From where you sat, he looked like a guilty dog, with the dog being an aggressive one. Yes, despite looking guilty he still exuded aggression - which means he still wasn't satisfied with something.

"...You like doll." He mumbles out as an answer, only then averting his gaze to the floor. Silence falls as you remain confused, unsure what he meant. What's the problem with you liking the doll? Your brows furrowed, and he notices that, trying to make himself smaller as he quietly asks;

"...Why like doll?"

You had to take a few minutes to figure out an answer for his question. You like the doll? Even you weren't sure, you only fixed it up for old memory's sake. Why did he think you liked it? You wanted to ask, but too many questions with too little answers would be unfulfilling. Looking at the doll in your embrace, it..it reminded you of something, no, someone. Someone, no matter how annoying and loud he could be, always managed to be around during your loneliest hours, entertaining you with all the oddities he finds and does. Someone...you like, even if you do get tired of the way he is sometimes.

The doll reminded you of him, and you like it because you (begrudgingly) like him. You can't exactly tell him all that, you doubt he'd have the attention span for your whole explanation. Having an answer to his question, your smiling lips part to speak - repeating the answer from before, only changing the second part of it.

"Your look same." He perks up from where he slumped, meeting your gaze. There was a change in the way you looked at him and it made him stiffen up at the implications it could mean. You were looking at him the same way you looked at the doll, your gaze soft and caring... is that what's causing this sudden rush he's feeling? Why does it feel like he knows exactly what you're going to say next? He can't help but smile as he awaits the answer he already knows, practically vibrating where he crouched.

"Me like you...me like doll."

...And there he goes exploding into giddiness, jumping up and skipping around the room to regulate the unusual emotions within him at having his doubts cleared away. You like him! That's all that matters. You sigh, knowing the both (three, including the doll) of you were still stuck together with no way out, which means you'll have to tolerate his weirdness for a long, long time.

[bloodblanks]

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

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

note: reader is not player (mc).

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

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

My human.

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

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

Pretty.

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

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

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

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

Human not communicate. Me worry.

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

Human understand. You understand me.

Me happy, he thought. Grateful.

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

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

Eyes pretty.

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

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

Human want me. You want me.

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

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

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

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

And you wanted him too.

Want me.

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

Want have human. Want touch.

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

Head damaged, head hurt, he suddenly remembered.

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

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

Want mouth touch.

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

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

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

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

Pleasant.

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

Me you together.

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

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

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

He pulled away briefly so he could speak.

“Together,” he mumbled. “Me like.”

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

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

Human upset. Not know why.

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

“Hurt,” you reluctantly stated.

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

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

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

Human happy. Me like.

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

Heart change? Not know.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ▮▮▮▮?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct,” you nodded. “Me rest.”

—

Human need rest. Human weak. Cute.

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

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

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

Human rest. Me take care.

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

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

Human happy. Me like. A lot like.

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

Not understand, he thought.

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

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

Pleasant.

“Goodnight,” you repeated back to him.

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

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

“You have name?” you unexpectedly inquired.

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

next chapter ->

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