#sketchy pad

[angelicalchaoticabyss]

Ponies, and ponies based on dragons

Sketchy pad belongs to @mumble-jumble-gallery

White snow belongs to @ittybittyadventures

[fineapplequeen]

Trick or beep!

:33

Last minute boop 'er treater

[jumpscaregoose]

hard to admit but my best tip for getting writing ideas is touching grass

[ximen]

One of the lesser tragedies of my life is that so far the only thing that can keep my pain condition under control is a combination of sickly sweet date tea and herbal TCM pills from a place that went out of business two years ago, possibly because the FDA found human placenta in one of their supplements.

[halfdeadwallfly]

sitting in the music building bathroom terrified to go back to sectionals listening to several other acappella groups rehearse at the same time through the walls

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Cherry Red.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Written in conjunction with this ask from @eevwrites.

Word Count: 1.9k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Implied Stalking, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Overstimulation, Biting/Marking, and Slight Dehumanization.

Really, your only mistake had been choosing the wrong savoir after Satoru had slipped something into your drink.

Satoru was obviously, visibly, undeniably a creep. That much was obvious from the second he approached you, neon pink cocktail in-hand and that degenerate grin plastered across his lips. He was sketchy, but he was also rich, and fun, and willing to dance with you hours after the rest of your friends had called it a night. Suguru wasn’t a creep – or, he didn’t look like one, at least. When your vision started to darken, when it became harder than it should’ve been to put one foot in front of the other, it was his chest you stumbled into, using what was left of your consciousness to beg an imposing, aloof stranger to get the bartender’s attention and help you. It was what anyone else would’ve done. It was what you would’ve done, if the roles had been reversed.

It wasn’t until you felt his arm wrap around your waist, until you heard him call so lovingly to Satoru, that you realized how badly you’d fucked up.

Still, stumbling halfway across the club and throwing yourself at a total stranger must've attracted some attention. As Suguru gathered you in his arms, the bartender rounded towards you, eyeing your limp form and Suguru's slight smile warily. “Someone had little too much to drink,” he explained, nonchalantly. “It’s fine. Her boyfriend and I are going to take her home and make sure she gets tuck her in.”

‘Your boyfriend’ being Satoru, apparently, judging by the way he clung to Suguru’s side as you were carried out of the club entirely and piled into the backseat of an inconspicuous black car. Suguru drove and Satoru hovered over you – gnawing hickeys and bruises into your throat until you were too far gone to care.

Whatever they’d dosed you with, it was strong. You were strung out for most of the ride, only vaguely aware of passing scenery, Satoru’s keening whines, and Suguru’s gentle reminders to ‘wait, ‘toru’. By the time you felt your body being lifted, you were beyond the point of deliberate movement – your mind hyperactive, eager to latch onto every little sensation and spiraling thought, but unable to do much more than remind you to breath as you were hauled through a shrine courtyard and into a small, dimly lit backroom; the priest’s personal barracks, if you had to guess. Satoru babbled while Suguru lowered you onto a large, plush bed, and despite your best efforts, you caught most of it. “—and that’s when I knew it had to be you.” Suguru spared you an apologetic smile, his nimble hands moving over your body as he carefully removed your dress, then your shoes, then your panties, stripping you bare with all the care and all the tenderness of an avid collector undressing his favorite doll. “I mean, it took a few months, but I wanted it to be romantic, y’know? Suguru doesn’t get it. He thought I’d be happy with just anyone.”

“It took me a while to come around the idea. I might’ve gotten a little jealous.” You could only wish he would’ve stayed that away. “Come here, I need to show you what you’re doing.”

Suguru dragged you into his lap, keeping your upper body propped against his chest while spreading your legs apart in front of him. Satoru took his position eagerly between then, his eyes fixed on your cunt. “This,” he started, using two thick fingers to spread the folds of your labia apart, “is what you’re gonna fall in love with. Make sure you’re always paying attention to her clit – aw, look, it’s already poking out.”

It was humiliatingly clinical – how he touched you while explaining your anatomy in-detail, using the pad of his thumb to show Satoru how to play with your clit, dipping two fingers into your entrance while extrapolating on the importance of proper preparation, gathering your arousal up to make sure Satoru knew what it would look like when he was doing a good job. “Remember to be gentle. She’s going to be a lot more delicate than me,” he said, while curling two fingers inside of you, filling the bedroom with a rhythmic, humiliatingly wet sound. Your couldn't seem to open your mouth, and yet, little whimpers of discomfort and mewls of pleasure escaped your parted lips without resistance, each new noise drawing Satoru that much closer. “You’ll just be using your mouth, for now. We can talk about hands once you’ve shown some restraint.”

And yet, Satoru’s hands still found their way to your thighs, kneading mindlessly while Suguru split you open on his fingers. You tried to shake your head, to squirm against him, to tell him to stop, but the closest you got to anything coherent was a pitchy, keening sound not totally dissimilar to the whines Satoru would let out every now and then as he ground half-consciously into the mattress. You tried not to feel anything, either, but Suguru’s hands were so big, and his chest was so warm against your back, and with Satoru all-but drooling over your pussy, it would’ve been impossible not to come undone the second his palm ground against your clit and he spread his fingers apart inside of you, nursing you through your orgasm while making sure you were on fully-display. “See how she’s clenching down? That means she’s trying to milk your cock – you’ll get what I mean, once your inside of her.”

If only for a moment, your panic overshadowed your paralysis. Thrashing to either side, you did your best to fight against Suguru’s ironclad hold and finally spit something out, even if your voice was still barely stronger than a whimper. “N-No, don’t, you can’t—”

It was Satoru who cut you off, this time, albeit without breaking his nonverbal streak. His mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise, teeth clashing against yours as he shoved his tongue down your throat in less of a kiss and more of a prolonged attempt to choke you to death. It hurt, and you tasted blood, and if you hadn’t known better, than you would’ve thought this was his first—

Oh, god.

As if this couldn’t have gotten any worse.

He didn’t stay focused on your mouth for long. His attention drifted downward – first to your throat, then your collarbone, then your chest, latching onto one of your nipples and sucking harshly. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you were, not until his teeth dug into the plush of your breast and you let out a fractured sob, tears blurring your vision. Suguru’s response was instantaneous. In a fraction of a second, his slick-stained fingers were tangled in Satoru’s hair, prying him off of you entirely. “Gentle,” he repeated, his tone strict, authoritative. “Before I decide you need to be muzzled.”

For what it was worth, Satoru seemed apologetic. After Suguru loosened his hold, he nuzzled into your chest, lapping over his past love bites with the flat of his tongue. “’m sorry, just got excited.” And then, smiling up at you, “You didn’t mind, right? I mean, she definitely doesn’t.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, not until his head dropped to your cunt and he buried his face between your thighs, his attention suddenly solely dedicated to your pussy.

There was no attempt made to use his hands. Despite Suguru’s instructions, he ate you out like a starving animal – his tongue fucking into your cunt as the bridge of his nose ground mindlessly against your clit. Suguru kept his hand in Satoru’s hair, petting gingerly over his scalp as he watched Satoru drool and lap at your cunt. “Use your entire tongue, and don't inhale. She’s not going to be impressed if you manage to drown yourself in pussy.” Suguru tugged lightly, and Satoru let out an unabashed moan, the reverberations going straight to your core. “Don't get distracted, either. Don’t you want to know what she tastes like cumming on your tongue?”

Another moan, another rough buck of Satoru’s hips into the now disheveled sheets. He was terrible, and messy, and loud, and it was humiliating how quickly you lost control of yourself – going stiff against Suguru as Satoru all-but tore your second climax out of you. Suguru grinned against your throat, almost purring with satisfaction. “Good boy. So dedicated, so sweet.” He let go of Satoru’s hair – cupping your face, instead. It was only as his thumb traced over your cheek that you realized you were crying in-earnest, now. “She’s tearing up, ‘toru. That means she wants you to keep going.”

A mix of your arousal and his saliva stained the inside of your thighs, dampening the sheets underneath you, but he didn’t pull away – too caught up in your taste or Suguru’s praise to stop. It might’ve been the overstimulation, or the drugs, or some impossible, nebulous factor you couldn’t so much as begin to guess as, but time seemed to blur together, reality buckling under its own weight as Satoru wrung another orgasm out of you, then another, then another, as Suguru continued to shower him with praise and affection and promises that you liked him, that you wanted this, that you were only crying and thrashing and trying to snap your thighs shut because you felt so good. At some point, you lost the will to keep your eyes open, and minutes later, the harsher edges of your consciousness began to soften. For once, you couldn't be mad at your own body's instinctual submission.

You knew you were going to black out, but you weren't scared. By the time your vision flickered out and everything went black, the only thing you could think to be was grateful that you’d be fortunate enough to miss the main event.

~

You woke up what felt like days later, still lying on the bed you’d blacked out in. Their paralytics had worn off, but trying to make a run for it was out of the question. Every part of your body ached – from your hickey-painted chest to your aching hips to your poor, abused pussy – and even if you’d been able to move, it wouldn’t have done you much good. Familiar bodies caged you in on either side, Suguru’s chest still pressing into your back while Satoru clung to your chest, his arms wrapped around your midriff and his nails embedded in your sides. As if you hadn't already been thoroughly marked.

Suguru stirred first, predictably. It wasn’t hard to tell who was in charge between the two of them. “Our little sleeping beauty,” he muttered into your hair, kissing the top of your head as he sat up and shook Satoru away. “We were starting to get worried – must’ve pushed you too hard last night. You almost missed the most important part.”

Something caught in your throat. “…almost?”

“Yes, princess, almost.” With a groan, Satoru sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Immediately, his gaze fell to you, and just as quickly, he was on top of you – pinning you to the mattress, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “You should be thankful that Satoru had the patience to wait. I wouldn’t have been so nice.”

You felt Satoru’s hands paw at your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he aligned his stiff, leaking cock with your entrance. He moved enthusiastically, but mechanically, like a trained dog. Like he was following instructions. Weakly, you tried to push at his chest, to get him away from you, but you gave up quickly.

You’d been wrong to be grateful. It would’ve been better to get this over with last night.

At least, then, you might’ve been out of it enough to miss the twisted, blissful, lovesick grin painted across Satoru’s lips as he buried himself inside of you.

[iamtired10]

open your window

pairing - best friend! pham hanni x basketball player! female reader

synopsis - sneaking into pham hanni’s house at 2 am through her window was practically a tradition by now. you’ve done it countless times before, but tonight feels... different.

genre - pure fluff

warnings - drunk asf, swearing, and a whole lot of cute.

word count - 1.9k

— requested!

it was 2 a.m.

the time when the world outside is quiet, still, and wrapped in the embrace of sleep.

but for pham hanni, her peaceful night was disrupted by the soft buzzing of her phone on the nightstand, pulling her out of her half-asleep daze.

she squinted at the screen, trying to make out the words through her sleepy haze.

owl leader

opeb ur damn wimdoe, yanni

fvckkksjxioskejfydiej

it's freezinh out herrre

the neighbor's betch is barkimg its lungs out

dont wanna get caught by the atttractibe ghost rn skdifiif

hawhiny

...

i have a lot of nasty things to say, but let's start with this: fuck you.

owl leader

han my sweet fluffy bestie-of-the-century pooookoe bear OPEM THR DAMN FOOR

i cant stand on this sketchy-ass ladder any longer

fckkkkk it's about to collapse wljjfirowkhsgd

hawhiny

🙄

hanni groaned, her warm, cozy blanket hugging her tightly, tempting her to stay in bed.

the thought of getting up at this ungodly hour to let you in was the last thing she wanted to do.

but she knew better.

if she didn’t get up now, you'd definitely do something worse, and her night would go from bad to worse.

dragging herself out of bed with an exaggerated sigh, she padded across the room, still half-asleep, and peeked out of the window. there you were, face pressed against the glass, knocking as if your life depended on it, mouthing exaggeratedly, “OPEN THE WINDOW!”

“romeo’s here, babe! your romeo has arrived!”

hanni raised an eyebrow at the sight of you, swaying unsteadily on a ladder you most likely stole from one of the neighbors. she unlocked the window, cracking it open just enough to speak, “can’t you, for once in your life, act like a normal person and use the damn door? you’re going to get yourself killed, and i’ll have to explain why my best friend fell off a ladder at 2 a.m. because she’s a complete idiot.”

“i’m just trying to be romantic, my sweet juliet!” you slurred dramatically, struggling to keep your balance on the ladder. “f-finally, you opened up! i was freezing out here... about to turn into an icicle!”

hanni rolled her eyes, knowing all too well what was going on. she could tell just by the way your words slurred together and how you couldn’t stand still for a second.

“are you drunk?” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she opened the window wider and reached out to you.

“nah, nah… i’m just a little tipsy. nothing major, i promise.” you grinned at her, clearly not fooling anyone.

hanni gave you a look of disbelief. “uh-huh, sure. and what exactly are you doing here, stumbling around my window at 2 in the morning?”

she extended her hand to you, helping you climb in through the window, though you were so unsteady on your feet that you almost dragged her down with you.

you stumbled inside, barely managing to stay upright as you grabbed onto her hand. “well, first of all, i missed my juliet!” you declared proudly. “and secondly… WE WON THE MATCH!! BABY, LET’S GOOOO!!”

you threw your arms up in the air triumphantly, nearly knocking over hanni’s lamp in the process.

hanni flinched, quickly steadying the lamp before it could crash to the ground. “could you not scream at the top of your lungs? you’re going to wake everyone up,” she whisper-yelled, glaring at you as she hit your head.

you pouted, rubbing the spot on your head where she’d lightly smacked you. “you didn’t have to hit me! that’s child abuse, pham hanni! i could report you for that.”

“child abuse? please. you’re acting like a 5-year-old,” hanni muttered under her breath.

“you don’t understand…” you slurred. “we won the basketball match! i had to celebrate! it’s basically my job to get tipsy after a win. besides, i needed to see my Juliet.”

“right, because there’s no other reason to climb a ladder in the middle of the night,” hanni deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked down at you.

“hey, hey… don’t forget, i’m banned from your house, remember?” you pouted, looking up at her with big, sad eyes.

hanni sighed. “yeah, banned because you broke my mom’s favorite vase trying to show off your basketball skills. she’s still pissed about that, you know.”

“i swear, i didn’t mean to! jasmine was—” you paused, blinking up at her. “wait, wait, it’s fine, right? she’s not still mad about that, is she?”

“trust me, she’s over it. you’re just making excuses because you like sneaking in through the window,” hanni said, rolling her eyes.

“maybe... but, seriously, i’m romeo! you’ve gotta have a romeo in your life, and i volunteered!”

“you do realize romeo was a fucking DUDE, right?”

“details, details,” you waved her off, attempting to steady yourself but immediately losing your balance and tripping over your own feet.

you landed face-first on the floor with a loud thud.

“ow! my pride…” you groaned dramatically, holding your head.

hanni sighed, rubbing her temples as if you were giving her the world’s biggest headache. “you’re such a disaster. you’re going to wake my mom, and then we’re both dead.”

“she won’t do anything to me,” you mumbled into the floor. “she thinks i’m cute. but jasmine? oh, she’s gonna stir up everything and make your life miserable.”

hanni couldn’t help but laugh a little. “my sister? yeah, she’d definitely throw us under the bus.”

you finally managed to sit up, blinking at her. “so… what’s the plan now? do i get cuddles or what?”

hanni was dead tired.

her body screamed for the comfort of her bed, to sleep off the entire exhausting day.

she’d already argued with you for ten straight minutes, mostly because all she really wanted to do was crash. but she couldn’t just leave you alone like this—you were flailing around like an octopus. drunk as hell, stumbling and knocking over everything, and honestly, you were about two seconds away from destroying more than just her mom’s vase.

“god, you’re such a pain in my ass,” hanni muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as she glanced at you as you dramatically throwing yourself backward onto her bed, draping an arm over your face

“why?” you shot back. “for coming through your window? you should be thanking me! you’ve got yourself a romeo climbing up here, risking life and limb to see you. who else would do that for you, huh? i missed you so much today. seriously, i came here to steal my juliet away! admit it—you love it when i do this.”

hanni stared at you like you had three heads. “again... romeo was a fuckin’ guy, you idiot.”

you giggled, rolling over and waving your arms dramatically. “well, i’m your female romeo. so come here and cuddle me! romeo demands cuddles.”

“why would i even do that?” hanni asked, still eyeing you with mild annoyance, even though the corners of her lips twitched, trying to suppress a laugh.

you blinked at her, pouting as you sat up. “c’mon, han han! you love me, right? so just cuddle me.”

she crossed her arms and sighed, but there was a softness in her eyes now. “alright, fine. but stay quiet, or my mom will—”

before she could even finish her sentence, you flung yourself onto her, wrapping her in a tight, almost suffocating hug. “there it is. my cuddly juliet,” you mumbled against her shoulder, eyes already half-shut as you melted into her.

hanni groaned. “you’re insane.”

you nodded sleepily, barely registering her words. “yeah, but i’m also insanely in love with you.”

the words spilled out of your mouth in a drunken slur, but the way you said it—so soft, so genuine—made hanni’s heart skip a beat.

for a moment, her eyes widened in shock, but she quickly brushed it off, chalking it up to the alcohol talking.

as the two of you lay there in silence, you nestled against her like a clingy cat, the peace only lasted a few minutes before your drunken brain sparked back to life.

“oh, right… forgot to ask you… the trillion-dollar question: how was your amazing date with anton lee today?”

hanni stiffened beside you, a noticeable tension creeping into her posture. “it was fine,” she mumbled, trying to sound indifferent, but there was an edge in her voice.

“fine?” You lifted your head, frowning. “no, no, no. that doesn’t sound fine. something went wrong, didn’t it? spill. i’ll break his legs if he did anything. seriously, just say the word.”

hanni exhaled, clearly not wanting to rehash the evening, but knowing you wouldn’t let it go.

“we went to see a movie, but honestly, it was kinda boring. and then we had dinner, but the entire time, he just kept talking about himself. like, dude’s obsessed with himself—he’s probably not straight, not bi, but fully autosexual. who the hell talks about themselves that much on a date? he was like, 'look at what i did,' 'i’m so amazing,' 'blah blah blah.' i was sitting there, trying not to lose my mind.”

you burst into uncontrollable laughter, snorting at the mental image of hanni suffering through the date while anton babbled on.

“oh my god, i would’ve paid to see that. but you should’ve let me take you out instead. we’d have gone somewhere fun, like a carnival or something.”

hanni rolled her eyes. “a carnival? you? please. you’d trip and fall off the first ride.”

“rude,” you said, pouting. “but i wouldn’t fall if i had you to hold my hand. i’ve got experience, remember? i’m your romeo after all.”

hanni chuckled softly, shaking her head. “yeah, yeah. anyway, what are you even going to do after graduation? you gonna work at a carnival?”

you paused, your playful demeanor dropping for a second. “i don’t know, han. sometimes i think about it, y’know? like, what comes next after university?”

the shift in your tone caught her off guard, and she glanced over at you, surprised. “yeah… i think about that too. it’s scary sometimes, isn’t it? the whole 'what comes next' thing.”

“yeah…” you sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “like, will we still be close? or will we drift apart like everyone else does after uni? my parents are all over me about my future, but i just wanna stick to basketball and… figure it out later.”

hanni’s heart tightened at your words. the thought of drifting apart from you felt like something she wasn’t ready to deal with.

“we won’t. i promise. we won’t drift apart.”

you hummed in response, your voice soft and tired. “good… ‘cause i don’t wanna lose you, han. you’re too precious. if you go away, whose window am i gonna climb?”

hanni chuckled, leaning her head against yours. “right…”

“by the way, your hair smells nice,” you mumbled, your sleepy voice slurring again as you nuzzled into her neck. “what shampoo do you use again?”

hanni rolled her eyes, her hand absentmindedly stroking your back. “you’ve asked me that a million times. don’t act like you don’t know.”

“rude…” you muttered, your voice trailing off as sleep overtook you. “anyway, i love your shampoo and… smdhidkdheuxu…”

you were out cold, leaving hanni shaking her head in disbelief.

“not this dork falling asleep after confessing her love to my shampoo,” she mumbled, glancing down at your peaceful face, your breathing steady as you slept against her.

her annoyance melted away as she watched you sleep, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

maybe you were right.

she really did love it when you climbed through her window just to see her.

maybe… just maybe, she loved it more than she’d ever admit to herself.

a/n - my brain hurts 🤕

[hanjisick]

chemical infatuation

genre. yandere au. patient!jisung x researcher!reader

desc. jisung takes part in a high-paying yet sketchy study with seemingly no risks, but the injection causes him to quickly grow obsessed with the daytime staff member assigned to his study.

warnings. needles. vomit. murder.

wc. 3.5k

“is it a bad time to tell you that i’m a little claustrophobic?” your patient, han jisung, nervously shifted in his seat, fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

“we have to keep you in this containment during our research.“

the containment room, with its dim lighting and cushioned walls, seemed to close in on him. the dimensions felt constricting, heightening the anxiety surging through his veins.

every inch of the space was under surveillance, every move to be meticulously scrutinized by the watchful eyes of researchers.

what a sketchy situation. but it was better than he had expected from a craigslist ad that he had chanced upon.

the snap of your rubber gloves pulled him away from his thoughts, “it isn’t too late to back out, we have a few more candidates willing to take your place.”

500 million won. that was enough for him to do anything.

“i’m fine. i’m ready.”

“alright then, pull your arm out of your sweater for me.”

“i have a tank top underneath.” the boy shuffled out of the sweater and placed it onto his lap.

“and as the paperwork says, you have no allergies, anaphylaxis, or any history of mental illness?”

“nope.”

he flinched as the cool alcohol pad met his bicep.

“the medication we are testing for you should not hurt you much as far as we are concerned,” you began prepping the needle and syringe, “the only side effects that we predict could be a minor headache for a couple of days. it is not dangerous.”

jisung closed his eyes as you squeezed his arm slightly, pushing the needle through his skin.

you gently placed the gauze onto his arm, “finished. how do you feel immediately?”

“normal. a little shaken up from nerves, but no problems. what do i do now?”

“you’ll be watched for a month. the only restrictions are that you aren’t allowed to leave this room or use any devices.”

the idea of isolation and confinement weighed a bit heavily on him, but he was determined to see it through.

you motion towards the mattress in the corner, “we will change your bedding twice throughout the month. let us know if you are uncomfortable with the temperature of the room, need extra bedding, or anything else.”

jisung nodded.

“let us know if you need to use the bathroom and we will temporarily disable the cameras for your privacy. but we will take urine samples if we deem it necessary.”

“and what about food?”

“you’ll be fed three meals per day, with two snacks.”

“thank you. that’s all i need to know,” he paused for a moment, “other than your name. what’s your name?”

“y/n l/n,” you gather your paperwork, “your personal belongings will be returned once we go through to make sure there is nothing that could alter our research.”

the door had closed and locked, leaving jisung alone in the room with just his thoughts to keep him company until his stuff was given back to him.

Beginning Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung feels nervous about receiving the injection. Administered at 16:38 with no noted side effects.

you watched the boy through the array of cameras placed strategically throughout the room as he lay on the mattress. his sweater was haphazardly discarded across the room, a seemingly small attempt to make himself more comfortable in the sterile, plain environment.

despite the initial nerves of a new medication, nothing had seemed to happen. at the fifteen-minute mark, you stepped away from the cameras for a moment— if there were to be a severe sudden reaction, it would have manifested by now, you reasoned.

throughout your shift, your attention continued to drift back to the screens displaying jisung’s every move. with each glance, you found him engaged in various activities—doodling, writing in a journal, or simply staring off into space, lost in thought.

nothing seemed to go wrong. perhaps this medication would be approved.

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate all of dinner and requested night snacks. He had slept well. No side effects were recorded.

you press the bright red button, lowering your mouth to the microphone.

“how is everything down there? any side effects?”

“y/n? is that you speaking?”

“yes,” you were surprised that the boy had remembered your name, “what are your symptoms?”

“you should come into the room to speak with me. i’m lonely here.”

“i have to record your symptoms. i can’t come down there unless i know that you’re stable.”

the microphone had only barely picked up his sigh. “i’m normal.”

“any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”

“nope. nothing. everything’s fine. just lonely.”

you sigh. he seemed normal. he was lying in bed, staring up at one of the cameras.

so it was fine, right?

you push open the door, greeted by the grinning patient on his mattress.

“you smell nice. what products do you use?”

what an odd conversation starter. “nothing special. just a lavender-scented body wash.”

he nods. “the overnight staff were fine, but i think that i prefer you. i can’t put my finger on it quite yet.”

was jisung naturally this blunt with his words? or was he flirting with you?

“what do you plan to do during your stay here?”

he leans back against the cushioned wall, “i compose songs for artists. i figured that it would be easy to get a lot of work done in here.”

“i see. is that your songwriting journal then?” you eye the small black book and pen next to him.

he takes the pen into his hand, “yup. it’s one of the few things that i brought here.”

“you’ll have to show me some of your work sometime throughout the month.”

“you can look at my work now,” he grins, clicking the pen, “my name is HAN. look me up.”

the name stays in your mind as you exit the room and lock the door. you find your way back to your seat at the cameras to supervise the man, pulling your lunch out of your back.

one hand holds a sandwich as the other browses through safari, looking at the songs that your patient had composed.

you hadn’t heard any of them, but perhaps it would be a good idea to look into the lyrics. it would give you things to talk about with him for the following month.

the rest of the shift was boring. you watched as he wrote in his notebook, ate his food, hummed to himself— nothing interesting.

the most intriguing thing that you experienced was the occasional ‘help!’ button being pressed, only for the man to announce that he needed to take a piss.

your misery was ended once your coworker entered the room, placing his keys and bag down on the table.

a sigh of relief left you, “thank god. it’s so boring.”

“thanks for the warning.”

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate all of dinner and requested no night snack. Awoke at 01:00 and 03:00. Specified no reason for waking. Special request for morning staff: Deliver lavender-scented body wash.

your eyes stared down at the note with slightly widened eyes.

perhaps he had good intentions, perhaps your defenses were just too high. after all, he might just like the scent of lavender like you did.

“good morning. any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”

“my arm is a little sore, and i’m a bit restless, but that is all.”

you record his answers— finally something to write down.

“i saw your request from last night. i’ll get a staff member to deliver your body wash. did you run out? i’m sure we gave you enough.”

“i still have some. i just wanted to try yours out.”

how strange.

“you’re coming down to see me today, right?”

“not today. i want to see if your symptoms worsen throughout the day. it’s best to be careful.”

you watch through the camera as he slumps back, visibly disappointed.

today, the boy had begun to act a little bit differently. every couple of minutes, he would stop his writing to look up at the camera.

you would hold eye contact with him for a few moments, even though he couldn’t see you before he would look back down again with a large grin that wasn’t on his face before.

soon, the bottle of body wash was delivered to his room.

“y/n! is that you?” he jumped out of bed as the lock clicked, only to be disappointed to see a man in a mask and gloves leave it right inside of the door.

he crept towards the bottle, snapping the lid off, holding it up to his nose, then inhaling deeply.

“it smells like you.”

you clenched your teeth, writing down the reactions.

walking over towards the center of the room, he peeled his t-shirt off his frame, then pulled down his sweatpants and boxers in one go.

you shrieked, slamming the buttons to disable the camera.

he was supposed to tell you when he needed privacy.

with shaky hands, you began to jot down his behaviors.

once ten minutes had passed, you turned the camera back on in hopes that he was decent again. this time, you had enabled the camera with caution, only to see that he was showering.

you disable it once again and decide that this would be a good time to have lunch.

the image of the naked man was etched into your mind as you tried to force the salad down your throat.

it was a good thirty minutes until you got the courage to turn the camera back on, sighing in relief as you saw him on his bed with sweatpants on once again.

jisung stared up at the ceiling with hooded eyes, chest rising and falling— you weren’t sure what was going through his mind.

you press the button. “everything alright in there?”

he perked up, “y/n, everything is just fine. i wish you were in here, though, instead of behind that stupid camera.”

you bite your lip uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond.

changing the subject would be best.

“lunch will be delivered soon.”

“good. i’m a bit hungry.”

you take your finger off of the button, sitting back in your seat, waiting for your shift to be over.

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate most of dinner and requested no night snack. Had difficulty falling and staying asleep. Awoke many times to journal. Refused conversation about his symptoms.

“y/n? you’re here, right? right?”

you had only just opened the door to the surveillance room, met with his muffled voice through the speakers.

“y/n? y/n? baby? my beautiful doll?”

the nickname caught you off guard, breath caught in your throat.

before answering, you grabbed the pen off the desk to jot down the behavior. this was not normal.

he stared directly into the camera. “i know you’re here. i journaled the minutes until he would leave and you would replace him.”

your legs shook as you took a seat.

why were you so nervous? it wasn’t like you were in danger. the door was locked. his body language did not seem hostile.

but his eyes told a different story. they were dark, crazed, restless.

“doll? can you hear me? can you hear me?”

your voice stuttered, “what are your symptoms?”

“i missed your voice, y/n.”

“any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”

“none,” jisung answered quickly, “so you can come down and see me, right?”

you lied through your teeth. “not today. we are still a bit worried about yesterday’s symptoms.”

“fuck!” his forehead hit against the wall.

you took your finger away from the button.

he balled his hand into a fist before hurling it towards the same wall.

jisung crumbles to the floor. “i can’t take it anymore.”

“are you alright? are you in pain? do you need help?” you grasp your pen with an unsteady hand, “tell me what’s going on. talk to me.”

“i need to see you again, i waited all night just for you to tell me no.”

“it’s for the safety of you and myself.”

his voice was barely above a raspy whisper, “i promise i won’t hurt you, i’d never hurt you. i couldn’t hurt you.”

“jisung,” you started sternly, “i’m unable to see you. please abide by the rules of the study.”

“can’t i quit?”

“you signed a form stating that unless there is a medical emergency, you aren’t to leave this room. i’m quite not sure that you’re in your right state of mind right now.”

“i would be fine if you’d let me see you again.”

it was pointless to argue with the man, so you let go of the button, jotting down the conversation.

jisung did not eat, speak, or move from his spot that day.

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate no dinner and requested no night snack. Did not sleep through the night. Refused conversation.

“doll, you’re back.” his raspy voice announced your presence just as you opened the door as if he was in the room with you.

on the camera, he was spread out in the middle of the floor like a starfish. his blonde hair covered his face, but you could still see the eye bags forming under his sunken eyes.

“i have a bit of a headache. i’m dizzy. my throat is dry,” he answered your questions for you, “will i get to see you today, doll?”

you were a bit afraid to answer, hesitating as you pressed the button, “i’m sorry. no.”

“but i will be able to see you after the study, right? after the study you’ll marry me, right?”

your heart dropped into your stomach at the words.

“i have a partner, jisung.”

“i know,” he smiled lightly, “it’s me. but soon i’ll be your husband, right?”

this was too much. you felt sick. you needed to alert the rest of the team and let someone else take over this case. hell, you might even quit your job.

“imagine you as han y/n. it sounds beautiful, doesn’t it?”

his crazed voice rang through your ears as you stood up from your seat.

“nobody else has ever made me feel this way, do you know that? all i want is you. and i’ve only seen you twice. isn’t that absurd? love is just so beautiful.”

his words caused you to still. you felt like a deer in headlights.

“do you think the shot is what made me crazy? because ever since we met eyes after you gave it to me, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. about your touch, even through the gloves. all of my songs have been about you. i even drew you.”

waves of nausea came crashing down on you.

“i can’t wait until i’m finally out of here. i can finally have you all to myself. i’ll kill that night staff for taking you away from me.”

jisung scoffed at the thought of him, “and he’s the one who gets the pleasure of passing by you every day? do you like him? i’ll gouge his eyes out and wear his skin if you like him more than me, hm?”

you raced towards the trash can in the corner of the room, stomach churning as your breakfast came right out of your mouth.

the smell was putrid, acidic, disgusting. but not as disgusting as the words of the sick man behind the camera.

“did you watch me shower, my love? i don’t mind if you did. your lavender body wash felt so good on my body, i imagined it was you in there with me, washing my body yourself—“

you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

“he’s crazy! he’s gone mad!” you point towards the surveillance room, tears streaming down your face as you try to explain the situation to the nearest person that you can find.

“calm down. go to the break room. i’ll alert the rest and we’ll handle it.”

“you’ll be okay,” a staff member reassures, handing you a much-needed drink from the vending machine, “he won’t be able to escape. we will detain him and try to get him any help that we can.”

“even aside from how creepy he was, i just feel terrible, you know? i gave him that shot.”

“it isn’t your fault. he knew what he was getting into. we tried our best to determine the effects. there was no way of knowing.”

although he was right, guilt and horror still ate you up as you rested your head in your hands.

“this is why our job is important, so that only one person gets hurt instead of an entire population of people.”

“what a shitty job.”

he laughed as he got up, “tell me about it. i’m gonna go see what i can do to help. let us know if you need anything.”

the door closes and you lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes.

all you could think about was the man and his words.

‘i can’t wait until i’m finally out of here. i can finally have you all to myself. i’ll kill that night staff for taking you away from me.’

would he be able to leave? would he be able to get over this love sickness? is it reversible? nobody knew anything about it. the only thing that could be done is watching him.

it only seemed to get worse over the days, and you didn’t want to know what he would be like at the end of the month.

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, psychosis

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate no dinner and requested no night snack. Did not sleep through the night. Refused conversation aside from asking for previous staff, Y/N L/N.

you no longer worked with jisung. instead, you had been assigned to a new case.

“it isn’t too late to back out, we have a few more candidates willing to take your place.”

“i’m not nervous. go ahead and inject me, doctor,” the patient joked, pulling her sleeve up.

“and as the paperwork says, your only allergy is mild reaction to shellfish, but no anaphylaxis or any history of mental illness?”

“all correct.”

you were wiping her bicep with alcohol when the door had opened, screams piercing your ears from outside of the soundproof room.

“y/n?”

blood dripped onto the floor from his heaving form, eyes bloodshot and locked right on your form. in his hand, he held a loaded handgun, the smell of gun powder seeping into the room.

the patient in front of you screeched, immediately making a run for it before her brains were splattered across the room.

your ears rung from the shot, standing stalk still as jisung approached you.

everything was moving too quickly. you couldn’t process a single thing. your head was spinning. you needed to survive.

“please, i’ll do anything, don’t hurt me.”

“i told you. i won’t hurt you, i’d never hurt you. i couldn’t hurt you.” a bloody hand ran through your hair, taking advantage of your frozen figure.

“i can’t believe i’m so close to you right now.” his nose buried into your neck and you could feel the cold metal of the gun pressing against your back.

“they’re all dead. and you’re back.”

he dropped the gun to the floor, fishing through his pocket.

before you could register what was happening, jisung had already lodged a needle into your arm.

“sleep tight, my doll, i’ll get us out of here.”

[jjkamochoso]

I Think I Like This Little Life

Nanami x gn!reader

Fluff

Nanami and reader have an adult conversation…

Warnings: a tiny bit suggestive in one part

“Kento.”

“Hm?”

“Are we boring?”

You and Nanami finally had a day off where neither of you were completely exhausted, nor were you called off in some sketchy part of the city to fight curses or held up in your offices, catching up on paperwork. When you woke up that quiet Saturday morning, you felt strangely relaxed. Nanami greeted you with his signature sleepy smile and a kiss on the forehead when he got out of bed. Since it was the weekend, you figured it was the best time to do all the fun things you’ve wanted to but never had the time for. However, you found yourself rain checking invitations for lunch with your cousin and clubbing with your friends. Of all the ideas that sounded the most pleasant to you today, those weren’t it. You slowly peeled yourself out of the bed sheets and draped a bathrobe over your pajamas to ease the chill. You padded your way to the kitchen where soft classical music filled the air and Nanami was simultaneously brewing tea and cooking eggs.

“Good morning, darling,” he called out, giving you another peck, this time on the cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

“With you next to me, my love? Always,” came your reply, earning you the chance to see a small blush on your boyfriend’s face before he turned back to the task at hand. You hummed along quietly to the song that was playing and appreciated the view you had of your domesticated partner. As he finally set a mug and plate down in front of you, everything piping hot, you smiled appreciatively and waited for him to seat himself before savoring the delicious breakfast. These types of quiet mornings were your absolute favorite. There was no need to fill the air with mindless chatter or anxious laughter. The company of each other was more than enough for both of you. The shy stolen glances between you at the dining table were routine in your relationship as you both found yourselves enamored with each other but still lost in the throes of young love. Your first meal eventually came to a close and as you stood to do the dishes, Nanami was quick to intervene.

“Don’t worry about those, y/n, I’ll do them. Please, sit down and enjoy your rest.”

You rose anyway. “No way! You cooked us a delicious meal, it’s only fair I clean it up.”

Nanami looked like he wanted to protest but gave up when he saw the determination on your face. “Fine. You wash, I’ll dry.”

As the last dish was put away and the sink rinsed clean, Nanami strolled over to you, grabbing you by the hips and staring deep into your eyes. “You know, I have a big day planned for us.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show. You had hope for a day filled with recharge and rejuvenation but you didn’t want to let your lover down. “Oh? And what’s included in that?”

He cocked his head, pretending to be deep in thought. “Well, first off we could…” He trailed off, distracted by your extremely kissable lips that were extremely close to his own. As he leaned in, painfully taking his time, his phone began to ring loudly.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, but you weren’t deterred. You ran your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, goosebumps immediately popping up on his skin, and closed the distance, slotting your lips against his. You both made a contented noise at the contact. The kiss was gentle but needy, passionate but tender. Nanami’s phone had stopped ringing for but just a moment before the tone began again. He groaned into the kiss but still didn’t stop, his hands now roaming freely over your body and now it was your turn to groan, albeit for a different reason. His phone stopped ringing and started again once more.

“Whoever it is better have a good reason for interrupting us,” grumbled Nanami, breaking from your touch to answer his cellphone. “Nanami Kento. Oh, it’s you. No, thank you. I have plans. Yes, plans. No, not with you. No. No. I’ll see you on Monday.” He hung up.

“Let me guess, that was Gojo?” you mused, a grin erupting on your face. You could tell it was the white haired man on the phone with your beloved because he was immediately annoyed. Nanami nodded his head, his arms enveloping you in a hug as he rested his chin on your head.

“He wanted to know if we wanted to go out with him tonight for dinner and then clubbing. I hope you don’t mind I turned him down.” The blonde was taken aback by your giggling. “What’s so funny?” he asked you, letting go of the hug but holding you by the shoulders.

“I turned down my cousin and friends for lunch and the club today as well.” Nanami breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good. I have no plans today, I want no plans today. This day is ours and we will do as we please.” You nodded in agreement and sealed that with another long winded kiss before you went to your bathroom to get ready.

Thankfully the day had gone by pretty slow. It was a beautiful spring day so you and Nanami enjoyed a nice stroll around your neighborhood, listening to the chirps of the birds and rustling of the squirrels. You pointed things out to each other like a gorgeous flower (that Nanami of course compared you to) and a garden gnome (you couldn’t help that it looked just like Nanami!). You even cloud gazed for a while, enjoying the smells of the freshly mowed grass you found yourself laying on. When it came time for lunch, you made sandwiches for the both of you and munched on them while you did word search puzzles and Nanami did Sudoku puzzles. Like before, not many words were shared during this time but the comfortable silence was everything you could wish for. The plates were cleared, the sponge rinsed out. Another meaningful kiss was shared. Now it was time for household chores. You dusted while Nanami vacuumed. Nanami put the clothes in the washer, you put them in the dryer, you both folded them when they were done. You cleaned the sink in the bathroom while Nanami cleaned the toilet and shower. When that was done, it was time for another break. You picked up the cross stitch project you had been working on while Nanami settled for reading his newspaper. You sat in the family room on the couch while he opted for the chair. The window was opened slightly which allowed for the faintest touch of fresh air to be brought in by the light breeze. It was getting late into the afternoon and the birds, though still singing their songs, were beginning to head into their nests for the night. As you got lost into your project, the rustling of the newspaper brought you back to earth and into a new thought.

“Kento.”

“Hm?”

“Are we boring?”

Nanami lowered his paper and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t usually answer a question with a question, so forgive me y/n, but what brought on that thought?”

You went back to your cross stitching, nervously weaving the needle back and forth. “Well, it’s Saturday. We were asked to go out and join our friends in doing crazy things and instead we acted like an old married couple.”

“Would you have liked to gone out?”

“No. Would you?”

“Absolutely not.” His response was lightning fast.

“And so,” you laughed, “that raises the question. Are we boring?”

Nanami neatly folded his newspaper and sat next to you, taking your project out of your fidgeting grasp and replaced it with his hands. “I would spend the rest of my days watching paint dry if I had the pleasure of you sitting next to me as I did it. If the only views I ever saw were of neighborhood animals and our kitchen stove, as long as you were by my side, I’d be the happiest man on the planet. If that makes me boring, so be it.” You could tell he meant every word of what he said. Maybe you were being too hard on yourself—being able to build a life with someone as loving and kind as Nanami isn’t a privilege everybody is able to have and so what if people don’t understand you like to live a slow life? The only thing that matters at the end of the day is that Kento Nanami is yours, and you, his. You lifted your entwined hands up to your lips and gave his knuckles little kisses to show your appreciation for his answer. Unfortunately for you, you would never know just how wildly fast Nanami’s heart beat in his chest at the action, but you could get a feeling for what was going on by the deep blush spreading on his cheeks and his slightly flustered body language. You were definitely going to cancel plans to stay in more often.

[cobraaah]

Pairing• [Nauseaxe_404 ♡ Reader]

A/N• This took way longer than I wanted. Hopefully, it's not too long for you guys. It's not the best since I haven't written anything, let alone smut in a long time. Also not proofread. . Way too long. Also I dunno how to do warnings so be prepared I guess.

Warnings• Smut 18+, intentional injury, manipulation, slight blood?, axe usage ( not hurting reader), P in V, cunnilingus

Word count• 8k

Superstar

Desperate. Desperate for money of course! Recently you've been low on money, having bad impulsive buying habits on randome junk you didn't need. "A way to gain fast money!" Popped up on your laptop screen. Scrolling on suspicious and unsecured websites had its downsides. A grumbled sigh left you as you tried to click the ad off your screen. It didn't leave, it was like some sort of weird virus. . or something like that, you wernt the smartest tool in the shed when it came to computers. Your curiosity came over you, you did need some quick cash. Your morals went out the window, discarding the fact that you could get so many viruses, maybe even kidnapped! Your finger hovered hesitantly over the pad on your laptop. Deciding to get it over with quick, you click, closing your eyes for some reason, expecting a million more pop ups to show up, maybe a random guy breaking into your home to take you away. . but no. Your E-Mail opened up instead. Your eyes squint at the screen reading the new E-Mail that was sent to you. To you, it was all non important, besides a few key details, they read; "simple and does not require any particular skills or talents." , "50,000 dollars cash in total. Half will be sent to you in a few days, the other half will be at the job site." You paused for a second, re-reading the last part. Your eyes widen as your mouth gaped with a surprised grin. "Fifty K?!" You scanned the email over again, trying to convince yourself this isn't real, fortunately, it was. Deciding to actually read the email now the description talked about having to be a mediator, having to remove some tendents from a hotel of sorts. Seeing as they said it's simple and you don't need any special skills, this seemed as a easy way for you to earn some money. Red flags should've been popping up in your head but your lust and desperation for money took over. Quickly, you typed a E-Mail back accepting the offer, clicking send you sat back with a sigh. Now all you had to do was wait for half the money to be sent to you and-. "Wait a second.." You mumbled to yourself. With another quick re reading of the E-Mail they did say they were going to send half the money. . but how? "I never gave them my address or like. . anything?" With a sigh, you closed your laptop assuming that these ominous people from this sketchy ad had all your information already from your relentless visits to sketchy websites doing god knows what on them.

A few days have gone by since you've sent that e-mail accepting the suspicious job offer that you didn't even know was real to be honest. Currently looking up at the ceiling contemplating everything you've done at this point, we're you really that gullible? Thinking that someone would actually give you a-. . A loud crashing noise can be heard outside your room, heavy footsteps can be heard getting more faint until nothing. Frozen through the whole ordeal, you sit up after just laying there for who knows how long. Your eyes dart over to your door completely unsure about this whole thing, did someone really just break into your house? What if they were still inside?! A shiver runs through your body, goosebumps form on your arms at the thought. Getting up, you shuffle your way to your door cautiously incase the intruder was still there. With a creak of the door, your eyes dart everywhere not noticing anything out of place. Walking out of the hallway you notice a suitcase placed infront of your front door. "What the fuck.." Eyes squinting suspiciously at the case infront of you. Looking behind your shoulder before you crouch down and open the suitcase up.

Stacked upon stacks of hundred dollar bills are loaded in the case. Your mouth open slighty in disbelief at the sight, was this the twenty-five thousand?? Who ever your client is, they know where you live. Too overwhelmed by the amount of cash infront of you and the thought of some random from the internet knowing where you live, AND them actively breaking into your house, you shut the case. Staring surprised at it, you pick it up and walk back into your room carefully setting the briefcase next to your dresser. You get settled back into your bed opening your laptop having it rest on your lap. Just before opening up the web browser a pop up flashes on your screen, it has some address with the text underneath it reading "Arrive by 6 AM this monday, no backing out now." Oh. . oh. A small frown forms on your face at how threatening that last part was. Weighing the option of dipping with the twenty-five thousand dollars or suffer the consequences your client would serve to you if you didn't listen. . . you took the ladder. You take a screenshot of the address, saving it to your laptop for later. The pop up disappears a few moments later leaving you to the browser.

Scrolling on Dumblr, looking through random blogs, reading fanfics, the usual. Just as your finishing reading a blog the notification inbox pings. . . and pings repeatedly. "Jesus christ.." You mumbled under your breath. 'Swear to god, if this is the same guy-' Tapping on the inbox button you're welcomed by spammed comments by this guy named Nauseaxe_808. Now you would've been fine by this if it wasn't the same guy you've blocked hundreds of times for, number one being a creep, leaving obsessive comments. . and that's it. This guy just creeps you the hell out, everytime you block him he comes back with a new account with the same name but just different numbers added at the end, it started as Nauseaxe_404 to Nauseaxe_808.

At this point you've thought of just deleting your account since no one interacts with your blogs besides this weirdo. BUT thinking that if you did delete your account this sicko would win in his sick game. Of course at some point you started to feel bad for the guy, he seemed like a good person at some points when he wasn't leaving comments like, "I know where you live Superstar!", "Please notice me, I'm your BIGGEST fan!" Just super obsessive stuff. Did it make you feel wanted. . . yes. Should it? no. Are you delusional? maybe. Finger grazing over the mouse pad on the laptop, with a click on this guys profile and another click on the block button a sense of relief washes over you, but so does some regret creep up on you. All this guy wants is your attention and you keep on blocking him, maybe you should respond to him once. . . just once so you don't feel guilty about ignoring this guy, you'll just wait until the next time he makes a new account to respond with a simple 'Thanks.' and maybe he'll leave you alone, maybe just one response will make him stop. Is that a smart move to make against this online stalker? Not really, but common sense wasn't really that common to you anyways. You close the laptop with a sigh deciding today was eventful enough for you, too overwhelming in fact. Setting the laptop on the floor you get settled in your bed, deciding to get some sleep. Sleep quickly takes over, not realizing how exhausted you were. . .

Monday comes quicker than expected, unfortunately. Having to wake up way earlier than expected to go to this random ass location in the middle or the woods. Great! Sarcasticly you think to yourself as you follow the GPS on your phone, a small scowl appears on your face, rethinking your decisions. You dressed somewhat formal for this job, after all they are paying you fifty thousand dollars to be a mediator so you better belive it you're not gonna look homeless today. But having to wake up at five in the morning so you could make it on time didn't motive you that much to put that much effort in yourself. You did the basic for yourself and hoped that was good enough for this client of yours. The soft growl of your stomach interrupts your thoughts. You completely forgot to eat something before leaving due to being so nervous for this ominous, potentially dangerous job. Butterflies twisted your stomach like parasites as the destination neared closer, you felt like you were gonna throw up. You power through it though and turn on some music to calm your nerves and get your mind soothed. The sky still shone with the bright moon still out, the sun still sleeping. . . just like what you should be doing right now. You shake your head dismissing any negative thoughts about this job, you were gonna do fine. . right..? A soft groan leaves you as your mind keeps wondering and complaining about how stupid and unsafe this was for you to be doing.

Pushing away those thoughts, the cars headlights shine on a old looking hotel of sorts. Parking the car nearby you step out, the cold very early morning air hiting your skin almost like a warning, making the nerves on your body be on high alert once more. The gravel crunches under your shoes as you walk twords the hotel. Stepping on the wooden front steps, you're greeted with a briefcase and a walkie talkie placed near the front door. Bending down you open up the briefcase, marveling at how much money there's in it. . just like last time. Abruptly the walkie next to it chimes in, "Thank you for accepting this job offer! Now that you've accepted the full amount of cash, you can now begin the job." the walkie buzzes off as the guy stops talking. You're exciment was short lived as you realized you did have a job to do afterall, debts to pay, things to buy, and of course bills. You stand up with a stretch grabbing the radio and the briefcase. You put the case in the back of your car and walk back to the hotel, you feel unease, your body telling you this isn't a good idea, red flags should've be popping up in your head. But you're clouded with your need for money you trudge on and open up the front door, a loud creak resonates through the deathly quiet, empty lobby. As soon as you step inside the door quickly slams behind you leaving you in the dark for a quick second before the dim lights turn on. Two doors on either side of you and one big door in the middle presumably leading to the rest of the hotel. Each door has a different colour red, blue, yellow and finally purple.

The walkie talkie comes back to life, "Congratulations for making it this far, in all honestly youve made it farther than three quarters of our business partners from before. You seem reliable and more. . .entertaining. .," the voice goes quiet before buzzing back to life, "Anyways! Welcome to my hotel, just a small caution for your job today as a mediator, you'll be working with. .with monsters? Not really that important, anyways start with the red door!" The walkie quickly shuts off without anymore information about the 'monsters'. "W. . Wait?!" Your finger pressed the button on the side of the walkie, "What do you mean 'monsters'?" You question wide eyed into the walkie. . . you recive no response after a minute. You silently curse to yourself as you slowly approch the red labeled door that reads '001' in gold letters. You side eye the barricaded door and windows, realization finally sets in. You can't leave until you're finished with this job. With your attention back on the door you grip the handle and open it, quickly stepping inside.

The door slams behind you making you jump forward a bit, startled again by another door slamming behind you. You squint at the door suspiciously as you turn back around looking around. You step forward into the middle of the room, "Uhhmm. . . Hello?" You say hopefully loud enough for the resident to hear. Before you're able to take in the surroundings something hard hits the back of your head making your vision go black and fall unconscious, the last thing you're able to feel or even hear is "I've got you my. . Superstar," as you feel a pair of hands grab you a little too tight, keeping you from falling face first onto the floor.

A soft buzzing fills your mind as you slowly gain consciousness again. A soft groan escapes your throat as you sit up from the floor, your head hurts like hell. It appears you're in the same spot before you blacked out, it suprises you that youre still alive. As your vision gets unfuzzy there's a tall figure looming over you just. . . staring. "Uhm. . Hello..?" Your voice came out mumbled and quiet as you started back at the supposed monster infront of you, you can't make out what his face looks like due to his hood casting a dark shadow over his face and the red bandana covering the lower part of his face only making one of his eyes visible. In all honestly he doesn't really look like a monster besides his much taller height, but nothing else is distinguishable about him to classify him as a monster.

"I can't belive we can finally meet. . .-" Heavy breathing can be heard coming from him, almost could be distinguished as panting. "-Face to face..," His eyes squint, under that bandana he most likely has a sinister unsettling grin on his face. Just at the thought makes you cringe, internally of course, scared to make any negative reaction could have percussions. You finally register what he said after a moment, your mind trying to catch up with everything, adrenaline spiked a little out of fear, "Do I know. . you?" Your eyes squint suspiciously at the man infront of you, legs moving on their own, you stand up, leaning against the door behind you. The height difference didn't change at all, he was still much. . . much taller than you. Standing at roughly about two meters tall, your eyes widen in shock at the size difference between you both. 'What the hell was this guy?', 'Is he actually a monster?' , 'ARE MONSTERS EVEN REAL?'. Multiple thoughts swarmed your head like bees, are you going crazy? Shaking your head you averted your attention back to the guy infront of you. . He's still staring with his ecstatic squinted eyes, great.

"Of course you know me Superstar, I'm your biggest fan," You froze, goosebumps automatically formed on your skin as you heard that nickname. 'Superstar', could this really be the guy from Dumblr. . .? The air in the room seemed to get thick, making it hard for you to breath. Your hands get sweaty, a shudder runs through your spine. This 'thing' was your stalker. With heightened sense you realize that he's holding an axe. 'Holy fuck he's gonna kill me, I'm dead... im dead... im dead'. Those two words repeat in your head, frozen in fear. With your eyes fixated on the axe he begins to speak again. "Sorry for knocking you out, I thought you were one of those 'pests' who try to break into my room! It's become a habit for me to automatically attack anyone who enters. Good thing i realized it was 'you', my Superstar! Or else you woulve gotten. . . seriously injured." He cocks his head to the side, confused on your spaced out, deer caught in headlights facial expression, not realizing youre staring at the axe.

Responding in a meekly way, "I... It's okay.," Being super freaked out by the fact he could've killed you if he didn't recognized you sent a shock through you. A sudden laugh breaks you out of your trance as your eyes dart back to his face, you realize he's laughing. "PHAHAHAHA!" Being the awkward person you are, nervous and emotionally broken already, in fear he might attack you again, you awkwardly laugh along. "Hah... hahaha.." Your laughs come out more quietly than you wanted them, but he doesn't seem to care. But seriously, you have questions, you need to figure out how to cooperate with this monster and convince him to leave the hotel, afterall you do have a job to do.

Bringing up the courage to yourself to speak as he finally stops laughing, his squinted eyes turning back to their normal predatory gaze. "Are you by chance Nauseaxe_404...?" Raising an eyebrow already knowing the answer, but wanting confirm your suspicions. You see his eyes squint happily with admiration. "Yes! You don't know how long I've waited to finally talk to you, I've tried messaging you on Dumblr but you kept on blocking me.." His voice trailed off slightly, making you feel unease. Both his hands grip on the axe tightend as his breath became labored again. "You. . . You didn't block me on purpose. . hah . . Right?" His red eye glared at you with a subtle twitch, was he really that naive? Did he not realize he was a total creep when leaving those comments on your blogs? "Uh. . Of course not! It's probally some weird Dumblr glitch.." You don't sound sure at all, or even confident, but it was good enough for Nause. His grip on the axe loosened until only he eas holding onto it with one hand, and his shoulders slacked. He blinked and his eye went back to normal as he stood up semi straight again, still a bit hunched over.

"Heheh yeah. I guess it was, haha..," He paused, rubbing his neck. "Well then, what brings you here my Superstar?" He questioned, looking down at you with an unreadable expression, you weren't quite sure how to read him, he was unpredictable. "You need to like. . . leave?" You tried putting it in simple terms in hopes he won't lash out on you. You start feeling unnerved and decide to glance around, all this direct eye contact with him is making you more nervous. Taking in the view around you, you see presumably stapled or tacked printed out pages of writings of some blog? Not just a normal blog, fanfics. . . Holy crap. This guy has been printing off every single one of your posts and sticking them to his walls. He really IS your biggest fan. . . in more appropriate terms 'He really IS a stalker, creep, weirdo, a loser with no life!', gulping at the thought, thankfully your attention is directed back to Nause as he starts speaking again.

"Why 'would' I want to leave?! I have no idea how I got here in the first place. . . but I still have no intentions on leaving." His voice trails off with the hint of festering agitation. Small huffing can be heard from him again, he grips his axe infront of him. You accidently worked him up again, seemed like that was somehow a touchy question, flip. Mentally cursing to yourself you connect the few braincells in your head that haven't fried yet and come up with a excellent plan on how to deal with this freak.

"H. . How about I write a uhm..-" You paused, are you really gonna make the proposition of writing a fanfic for him in exchange for his leave. Yeah. "-If I write you a 'fanfic'. . or something since you seem to enjoy them. . . a lot..," Mumbled as your eyes glance back to the walls full of printed out pictures of your blogs. "If I do that will you please leave this hotel?" Silently pleading, praying, hoping to the man in the sky that he'll accept this offer so you can hurry up and finish this job. His body begins to shake with. . you don't even know at the moment. His eye curves with excitement you presume. "Really? Just for me right? No one else?!" Before you're able to respond he continues, "Could you maybe write them here? Or at least one? I have a old typewriter just incase for this one specific moment I fantasized about fivehundredseventytwothousandeighhundrednintyhundrendedquadrillion times!" You should be surprised but at this point you just want to be done.

"Sure... Sure yeah.." You mumbled with squinted eyes, hoping he wasn't going to make you stay here forever writing endless stories for him. You follow him into a room that has a desk with a laptop and a wooden chair. . . That must be uncomfortable for him, sitting at this desk for how many hours a day, stalking your blog with the shitty hotel wifi, life must suck for this dude no wonder why he's like this. Shaking your head at that absurd intruding thought you eye the chair, is that really what you're gonna have to sit on? Walking over, you sit down. Nause grabs the type writer from a box in the corner of the room, he pushes the laptop to the side and replaces it with the typewriter. He looms behind you, waiting for you to start typing. "Anything. . specific you want me to write?" Quickly you begin to regret the decision of giving him the option to choose what you write. "What about one about me and. . ." You can quite literally feel his breath huffing down on you, his grip on the old chair makes a soft cracking noise at how tight he's holding onto it. "Y. . yeah! Of course!" You quickly say not wanting to hear what else he has to say..., also scared he's gonna hurt you on accident from how worked up he got. Your attention goes back on the type writer, fingers tap against the keys writing whatever comes to your mind.

"Can you make it long....? Like at the minimum one hundred pages maybe?" Your fingers freeze on the keys. "one. . ONE HUNDRED?!" Your eyes widen as you tilt your head up to look at him, his gaze is still unrelenting as ever. "Yes! Since I'm getting a 'real', authentic work of art from you personally. . . I need it to be long.. It needs to take me more than one sitting to read it! PAHAHAHAHA." Who the hell does the guy think he is. "Sure. ." You're cooked, you've only manged to write stories with at the maximum two thousand words, and now you have to achieve like what. . fifty thousand words? Hopefully- "Can you start writing? Sorry to press but you've been looking up at me for a minute now. .NOT that I don't mind. . . pahahahahahaha," Your head slowly tilts back down defeated, no way in hell you can write this much in one sitting, and having to do it sitting on this uncomfortable ass chair and someone watching every word you type. Deciding to lock in with that grindset mindset you begin typing, fingers grazing over the keys as you tap away. With Nause not injecting in every second you're able to actually write.

You've managed to successfully write a solid ten pages. You slump forward dejected. How the actual fuck are you going to finish this. Already ran out of ideas and your ass starting to hurt from the wooden chair. You shift with a soft groan, having completely forgotten about the monster looming right behind you. You jump forward, startled at the sudden voice behind you, tilting your head to see him. "How's it going Superstar? Is the chair treating you well enough PHAHAHAHA." The nerve on this guy. You give him a deadpanned stare before turning your head to face the type writer again. "It's great. Thank you very much..," Sarcasm laced your voice, a small laugh can be heard behind you then in a swift movement Nause picks you up and places you on his lap as he sits down on the chair that 'might' be a little too small for him. Your body tenses up in his grasp as his hands lay comfortably around your waist, keeping you in place. Small huffing can be heard behind you. "You can relax Superstar, I won't be hurting you...yet. phahahahahahahah. . . hah.."

How ominous! You slowly begin typing again, trying to calm your breathing or just yourself in general. But it seems like Nause isn't letting you get anywhere near finishing that damn story. He keeps on poking and prodding you with injections on what you should put in the story. "How about you make me a love interest? Make it where me and you.." His labored breathing starts up again, his grip on you tightening but he doesn't seem to care at your attempts for him to stop. "Y. . Yeah! Okay!" You quickly verbally agree to this idea instead of nodding to his other ones since this one seems to twist something inside him. Gross. His grip slowly loosens as you quickly begin writing again about him and you doing more intimate things like couples would do, but nothing too drastic.

Nause gets more comfortable as your fingers press against the keys, it seems like the noise lulls him to some extent. Was this part of one of his fantasies he's had with you? You start to feel kinda bad for the dude, he's way too obsessed with you. . a nobody. How could someone like this find you alluring? You cautiously lean back into him, oddly finding comfort in this situation. You hear his heavy breathing audibly hitch at the sudden adjustment. His arms snake around your waist completely, entraping you for good now. Not that you were complaining, it felt nice.. and comforting, in a more underlying sickening way. You shouldn't be comfortable around this guy, he's your stalker after all, in all reality did you even know anything about him besides his crippling obsession over you? No, no you didnt, you should be pushing him away but the fear, the fear of him hurting you made you stay in his lap. In the back of your mind you knew how wrong this was, how wrong it was for you to find a small twing of comfort with this sadistic monster. Maybe your desperation, the feeling of finally feeling wanted in your life, finding someone who actually wanted to be by you?

These thoughts made you feel revolted. You were actually feeling disgusted with yourself right now. A sickening feeling wrapped into your stomach, why were you trying to find some light in this situation? Was it to try and manipulate yourself into thinking that you're fine with all of. . this? You've never met anyone like this before. Never seen a person so obsessed. . devoted with you, you didn't want this, not at all. This guy is dangerous, he's unstable, and extremely unpredictable. You 'shouldnt' want this, but knowing that it's wrong only makes you crave it more. When you’re not used to attention, anything feels romantic. The way his arms are wrapped around your body as you try to focus on writing the story infront of you make you feel completed in a way. Nauses chipper voice broke you out of your thoughts, "Can you start to write the more heated stuff now? Just like in your old posts? Can you write about how you and I. ." He begins to list off in very detailed scenarios between you both. You sit there and listen to him talking non stop, you don't even think he took a break to breath. As he continues to rant about multiple of his fantasies that you should write about his grip on you gets tighter. . . and tighter to the point where it feels like he's going to break your ribs.

You yelp. Pathetically, you try to pry his hands off of you but it doesn't work. Realization sets in that he doesn't realize his death grip he has on you. You tilt your head to see him and his gaze is glossed over as he continues to ramble on about his weird fantasies. You look around the room and see that his axe is near the door, too far away to grab.You slowly lose hope, is this how you die, by the hands of your obessor? A cracking noise is what makes him stop. Your breathing chokes as you feel a sudden shot of pain near your chest. 'Did. . did he just break my rib..?' "S..SUPERSTAR? Superstar are you okay?" His voice is laced with faux worry, but you're too out of it to realize, your eyes are glued to where you felt the pain. Multiple thoughts rush through head about the pain, what were you even going to do? Nause picking you up is what breaks you out of the trance. "I think I broke your rib! PHAHAHA." Your eyebrows furrow at his laughing. He didn't seem to feel any remorse or guilt for hurting you. . . you should've known. You're a fool to have thought you felt secure next to him.

The sudden shift in surroundings jolts you out of the haze of pain and fear, as Nause carries you into a different room. The air feels heavier here, suffused with a sense of foreboding that sends shivers down your spine. The mattress beneath you feels cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth you once sought in his twisted embrace.As your gaze wanders around the room, you are met with a display of walls adorned with an array of photographs capturing moments of your life, each one a piece of your personal history frozen in time. Surrounding you are intimate details about your existence, laid bare for Nause to see, creating a tapestry of memories and revelations that paint a vivid portrait of your identity, your life. You can't help but feel like a trapped bird, ensnared in a web woven by a predator whose intentions grow darker with each passing moment.

Nause reappeared after a brief moment, holding a small, sleek black container in his hands. As he places it beside you, his tall figure looms over, casting a shadow that seems to engulf the room. "Superstar, may I have a look at where it hurts?" he asks, his one visible eye gazing at you with an innocent curiosity. Feeling a mix of apprehension, you nod hesitantly mumbling unsure "S. . Sure," propping yourself up with your elbows. Slowly, you lift your shirt, revealing the area where your ribs are already bruising. Nause opens the container, revealing its contents - soft gauze and a cold ice pack, promising relief from the pain that gnaws at you. He begins to slowly wrap the ice pack with gauze around the side where your rib was broken, the coldness makes your body shudder and goosebumps form on your skin. His movements are carefully slow, as if he's doing it on purpose. As you finally begin to come down from your shock of how much pain you were in, soft labored breathing can be heard next to you. You wonder how long he's been like that, was him bandaging you up really making him act up. . again?

With a nervous gaze, you watch as his hands slowly guide the gauze just under chest, his eyes were trained on your exposed flesh. You cringe slighty as you notice, is that what was really bothering him? Seeing half your torso exposed? "Did you know this was one of my scenarios I've thought of before?!" Nauses somehow chipper voice rings through the quiet room. Holy fuck, he broke your rib on purpose. This revolution makes your body shudder with disgust? Anger? You couldn't really tell at the moment. "Oh. . Oh really. ." You mumbled out under your breat, distaste laced your . Nause finishes up bandaging you up and sets the container on the floor next to the bed. You quickly pull your shirt down with the energy you have left. You lay back down on the dingy bed now just feeling how tired. . exhausted you were. A sigh leaves you as your hands rub against your face, leaving them there for a second before letting then fall to your sides.

Frustration boiled inside you. This job was suppost to be quick and easy, you wernt prepared for this, for 'any' of this. This was most likely some sort of trap from your client. He set you up for failure. "Superstar, you should really get some rest. You still need to finish writing my one hundred pages story!" Your tired eyes glanced over to him, his towering frame made you feel small, pathetic. "Yeah. . goodnight.." You managed to muster out, turning around so your back faced him. Pulling the blanket up to your face, nuzzling into it. Sleep quickly came over to you. Should it worry you that he's watching you sleep? Yeah, and should you be on guard? Probally, but you've lost hope. You never really had a chance in the first place, did you?

A soft groan left your throat as you woke up, the pain from your broken rib quickly reminding you where you were. Rolling over on your back with a yawn you almost choke on your breath as you see Nause still standing over the bed. . watching you. "Were you there. . . all night?" You question him with a raised brow, you were seriously concernedfor this guy. "Of course! I had to make sure my Superstar was safe!" Of course, what more did you expect from him. You hiss out in pain as you sit up. "Can I get like an advil or something?" Your hand holds the spot where the now semi cold ice pack sits, you don't bother telling him about the temperature of it, you don't want to risk him overwhelming himself again and hurting you. . again. He seems to pause for a second, letting out an unsure noise. "I don't really have anything like that here. .The only reason I got that ice pack and stuff for you was from one of my neighbors. ." Sheepishly he rubbed the back of his neck his eye twitched with agitation, you wondered about why he couldn't just go over next door and ask for some pain meds but you didn't wanna pester him about it, he didn't seem to have the best relationship with the other residents here.

"BUT! To take your mind off of the pain you can continue writing!" Oh right, you still had to write about fifty more pages for his psychotic fanfic about you both. With the typewriter on standby he carefully sets it in your lap, to your suprise it wasn't as heavy as you thought it would be. Leaning back on the adjusted pillows behind you, you began writing. Deciding to cheap your way out, you typed every word with doubled letters to make the pages fill out quicker. After awhile, you were able to make the pages filled out faster than normal, but you quickly ran out of ideas. "Do you 'really' need a hundred pages? Im running out of ideas. Can't these perfectly crafted fifty pages be go-," Nause quickly cuts you off. "NO! I NEED those one hundred pages. I need. . . hah. ." His voice trails off as his breathing starts to get harder. In a swift motion he yanks his axe out, his grip tight on the handle, his eyes clouded with god knows what as he glares at you.

"Y. . Yeah! Of courseee..." You quickly agree scared of the axe welding monster infront of you. His grip slowly falters as his breathing goes back to normal after a couple of moments. "PAHAHAHA. . HAH.. I know how to help you!" Your expression quickly dropped, what could he mean by that? He could do litteraly anything to 'help' you, what he thinks could be 'help' could be the complete opposite to you. Multiple ideas infected your head, multiple terrible ideas, you were terrified on what he was about to do. "Since you need inspiration how about I help get your little mind in gear again!" His hand pulled down his bandana showing his sinister grin that laced his face, his sharp teeth gleamed in the dimly lit bedroom. "PHAHAHA!" He began to hysterically laugh again as he crawled onto the bed with you, on top of you. "W. . wha . ." The words you want to get out in protest, to question what he's about to do, they get stuck in your throat from fear. All you can do is stare up at him petrified with wide eyes, mouth agap.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this. .!" His eye gleamed down at you happily, in his sick twisted mind this way his way of helping you. After a moment of him just looking at you and you not giving a response, his head tilted to the side in confusion. His expression turned to one of a kicked puppy, his once toothy grin frowned. "What's the matter? Why arnt you excited? Isn't this what you've wanted?" He questioned looking confused, and a little heart broken. "I've read all your stories and one of them sounds just like this! A tall, handsome, good looking monster with an axe gets with you. I already know that the story was about me, the description matches. So. . . isn't this what you want?" You freeze, did you actually write something like that? You don't remember at all, you begin to doubt his truthfulness and think he made that up on the spot just to try and manipulate you. But, another thought did cloud your mind. When in your whole life are you going to get another chance to fuck a monster? You start to see the appeal of him, his grey skin, sinister gaze, size difference, and the fact he could kill you? A whole package deal to be honest.

"I. . I guess." Reluctantly you agree, if there's a chance you're going to die, you'll die happy. You wince under his gaze, his eyes squint happily once more as his toothy grin appears again. "Great! Even if you said no I was going to anyways!" He admits nonchalantly, what did you expect, of course he would. "Now let's get those creative gears in your head flowing with endless ideas!" His voiced changed into a slutry tone as his gaze clouded with undying lust. With his head lowered and his face just inches from yours, you can see a long, black tongue slithering out of his mouth. A soft gasp leaves your mouth at the sight, at the opportunity Nause connects his mouth with yours. His tongue snaked into your mouth, causing you to let out a choked gasp. He then left you with a sated moan as his tongue roamed around in your mouth. His hands creeped under your shirt, his rough fingers pawed at the exposed flesh of your sides, seemingly trying to ground himself.

As his knee forcefully inserted itself between your thighs rubbing against you, it felt divine. A choked whimper left your lips at the feeling, you don't even remember the last time someone was this intimate with you, it was making you feel light headed. . . No it wasn't because of that, it was the fact that Nause wasn't budging when you needed air, now. Your eyes shot open as your hands relentlessly pushed and pathetically punched against his chest, he was unmoving. With your vision starting to blur you resorted to your last idea, your hand moved down to his crotch and roughly squzzed. A low moan left his mouth as he pulled back from you panting heavily. "PHAHAHAHA. Superstar. . hah.," He stares down at your hand, licking his lips before reaching down and grabbing it. His large hand wrapped around your wrist pushing your hand harder onto him.

A low satisfied groan leaves him as he ruts against your hand. "N. .Nause..," You spoke barley above a whisper, your eyes were glued to the scene infront of you, his large clothed cock rubbing against your hand. Fuck, there's no way that was fitting inside you in anyway. "Superstar. ." His eyes never left your face. "I. . wait a second, how did it go again.." He mumbled more to himself as he took his hand off of yours and searched his pockets. After a moment he took a piece of carefully folded paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, his eyes scanned the page. "Nause. . . what is that." You could already assume it was one of your fictive stories. "It's one of my favorite pieces by you! I just forgot how it went. . bear with me for a moment Superstar. . .!" His voice trailed off twords the end as he concentrates on re freshing his memory up on supposedly what he wants to do. "Aha! Now get ready for a once in a life time experience. . . PAHAHAHAHA." He shoves the paper back into his pocket, his predatory gaze looks down at your lower abdomen. His fingers quickly did work of your pants tugging them off and discarding them on the floor.

His breathing begins to get labored again and if pupils could have heart eyes that's what he would have right now. "Finally. .!" He gets situated inbetween your thighs, now laying on his stomach, his head resting on the inner of your thigh and his callused fingers lazily tracing along the already damp clothed slit of your entrance. In a swift sudden motion he pulls his axe out from his back, holding onto the butt of the axe he slowly cuts off your underwear. Your body freezes as you stare down at him with wide, scared, yet desperate eyes. Maybe him using the axe turned you on, just a little bit. His axe hovered over the bare skin of your thighs, he seemed lost in a trance as he traced light lines above your skin.

"N. .Nause?!" Catiously you warned him with a slight waver in your tone, scared he was actually going to cut you. "PAHAHAHAHA. . . HAH.. Sorry." He haphazardly tosses the axe off the side of the bed, a thud resonates in the room from the heavy axe. "Now where were we!?" He stares at you briefly before redirecting it down to your exposed cunt. His fingers traced along your folds, letting his fingers get drenched in your slick. With his mouth hovering over your clit, he experimentally takes a long lick on it. You squirm at the feeling, thighs instinctively wanting to close, his free hand holds onto one of your thighs making sure you're spread open for him. His two fingers quickly pump in and out of you as his tongue circles and softly sucks on your clit. The obscene squeltch of your pussy sends a blush across your face, with his relentless bullying of his fingers in you, curling up into every time he pushed them in. Your hips jerked as you felt the familiar feeling of your high building up in your stomach.

Soft pants filled the room as you neared your peak, your hands gripped onto Nauses head pushing him more into you, the feeling of his tongue swirling around on you became too much. A soft moan left your mouth as you clenched around his fingers, coating them with your cum. The low groan that left Nause vibrated against you, causing your hips to jerk slighty due to the stimulation. "PAHAHA. Did I do good Superstar?" He asked teasingly while sucking hard on your clit. "Mmphh.." Is all you manage to reply from the overstimulation. Nause leans back after a moment, allowing you to catch your breath. "Now let's get to the real show! HAH. ." His unerving grin never leaving his face as he undoes the clasp of his grayish belt, quickly yanking his pants down discarding them on the floor.

You're now able to see his clothed member strained against the confines of his briefs, there's a wet spot near his tip from how much pre cum he's leaking. Your eyes widen at just how big he is again realizing that there's no way he's gonna be able to fit all of that in you. "Feeling nervous? PAHAHAHA. You look so cute when you're scared. . hehe..!" His hands grab at your shirt ripping it off of you, then unclasping your bra leaving you completely nude underneath him. His hands find there way to your chest and paw at your breast's, taking in the nip inbetween his fingers and tweening it. The noises filling in the room are your soft whines and whimpers and Nauses concerning hard breathing. "Nause. ." You mewl out impatiently. "Sorry! They're just so soft..HAH..heh.." He pinches them once more before pulling off his briefs. With him now exposed he grabbed the back of your thighs hastily, pushing them up to your chest.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this!" With his neurotic gaze set on yours he roughly pushes himself inside, pained whimpers filled the room as tears filled the corners of your eyes. The sudden intrusion with no warning did not prepare you at all. He's only able to stuff about half of himself inside you due to his size. You guess due to him being freakishly tall with a huge build he was bound to have a big cock. "So small.." He mutters with a groan into your neck. "All mine. ." He pulls out and slowly ruts back in clumsy, your gummy walls desperately try to adjust to his size. With each thrust, his movements get harsher, more needy, all consuming. With his face nuzzled into your neck, you feel something slick slither around your neck before a quick shot of pain envelopes on your shoulder.

Nause bites rather harshly, letting his teeth sink in just enough to draw blood. His tongue laps up the blood eagerly, you can feel his dick throb inside you as he gets closer to his release. His hand moves down and his rough thumb sloppily rubs circles on your clit, a choked moan leaves you at the overwhelming sensations. You thought he would be talking this whole time but he seems too caught up in the feeling to care. With his thrusts getting more sloppy and the pleasure building up in your stomach becoming too much, you clench around Nauses cock, closing your eyes at the feeling letting out a moan as you ride out your climax. Shortly after Nause rocks his hips into a few more times before shoving himself back in roughly. You shudder at the feeling of him filling you up, harsh breaths fill your ears as he's gripping onto you like you'll leave.

He stays on top of you, holding onto you as his cock slowly softens inside of you. He pulls out, laying beside you, his arms hugging you from behind, face comfortably nuzzled in your hair, taking in the scent. The feeling is comforting, as you hear his breathing soften behind you sleep begins to lull you. You sleep comfortably in Nauses arms, the dread of having to write those pages and the task of removing Nause from this room leaves your mind as sleep over takes you. The pain of your rib being forgotten, that was going to be a pain when you woke up.

[swappingforgood]

Missing it already Part 1

After another long day at the office, I had home and dropped my suitcase in its normal spot before being greeted by my personal cleaner, Larry. He is a great guy; don’t get me wrong. Large physique and has that jolly fat guy personality. He always does a great job, but sometimes he talks to me too much and even stares at me when he thinks I’m not looking at him. He isn’t my type at all. At my age, I prefer men who are similar in build and wealth class, and even the occasional twink, but honestly, nothing has sparked my desire. Work has been so draining, and I feel lost in life. I have a great position, and I make a ton of money, and not to mention I consider myself very attractive. Just look at me.

I have guys like Larry drooling over me. After dinner, I talk to Larry, and he begins to speak, which normally would bore me, but this time it was interesting. "So, Mr. Mauro, I couldn’t help but notice you've been kind of down lately?” The large man says as he sits across from me while wearing a bright multi-striped shirt showing off his fat belly. “Well, to be honest, Larry. I just feel like life hasn’t been fun anymore. I want a change. I want to do something new—experience something.” My words trail off as I look away from him as I make a somber face. Larry gets up and gives me a hug and pulls out a necklace and tells me to touch it. "Okay, boss, this is going to sound crazy, but this new necklace I bought will let you experience something new!” He said as he held one end of the strange locket and I held the other. Suddenly I feel like something in my body is being pulled out as I look at Larry, whose mouth is open wide just like mine. I feel a strange pull as my vision goes dark before opening my eyes again. However, this time I am looking at my reflection. No, this can’t be. There is no mirror in the kitchen. I reach out and touch my face but notice my arms are no longer wrapped in a suit but instead a multi-striped shirt. I look down as I see a fat belly and catch my reflection and realize, I’m Larry. I have no time to process as I see my former body stand up and do a quick spin before speaking. “Oh wow, boss, I’m inside your body and your in mine. The sketchy amulet worked!” I stood up and looked down at my body, touching my belly. “WOW, I'm really inside Larry. Larry, why would you do this?” I asked, still getting used to hearing Larry’s voice instead of mine. “Well… You wanted to experience something new, so I figured why not swap for a couple of days? Don’t worry, we will switch back in a week. That’s when the amulet will be recharged.” I was understandably nervous, but I realize this was my chance to unwind, so after setting a few ground rules, I leave my mansion to head to Larry’s apartment. His apartment is clean and simple-looking, and I walk past a mirror, and seeing my large frame turns me on. I figured since I have a week, why not indulge? I lower my pants to see my massive fat legs and underwear that is hiding my fat pad. I pull it down and moan from the sensation as I begin to stroke my new cock and moan out loud. “Look at me, I’m so fat. I’m in Larry’s body. I love it!” I was so in bliss and carried away that I came all over the mirror. 

[bobbertskeetz]

𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 (𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮) 𝙨.𝙧 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Summary: Months ago, she appeared almost seemingly out of thin air; and Spencer couldn't figure out how exactly he'd struck the jackpot of life. A life in which he truly believed himself destined to remain alone.

Themes/Warnings: friends to lovers, slight angst but mostly fluff, no warnings that i'm aware of but feel free to let me know any different!

𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧...

The soft hum of the radio floated out amongst the bullpen, eminating from a young Spencer Reid's desk. He was going to smash it to smithereens. The radio played the same station every day, and has done so for many years. However, recently the station had taken to playing the one song he never wanted to hear again. It was as if the DJ was trying to make him feel as though he was the smallest man alive.

Spencer hated that fucking song. Yet, he embraced it. Perhaps it was an indulgence of self-pity. Or, better yet, a form of punishment for allowing himself to end up caught in an endless cycle of loneliness. After all, Morgan said so himself, Reid could never get a date. His connection with Lyla hadn't had the chance to flourish, if it was even a true connection, and he was in fact, alone again...naturally.

He could've left long ago, seeing as though Hotch had been kind enough to grant the team an hour early off of the work day. But, why would he? No one was waiting for him. No one aside from his cold sofa and empty bed, the two physical embodiments of his heavy heart. Why go home and wallow in solitude, when he could wallow in the company of an empty bullpen, knowing that Hotch was above him in his office. At least, he thought, I'm not the only recluse in Quantico. Despite this conclusion, Spencer failed to find any solace in the knowledge that he is not alone in owning a troubled soul. Once the song ended after an obnoxiously peaceful tune, which entirely juxtaposed the soul crushing lyrics; Spencer reached for his satchel and sulked his way through the glass double doors. Heading home, alone again, naturally.

-

The clock struck ten, and the light from the TV screen was the only form of illumination Spencer's living room would receive. Doctor Who had been paused for quite a while as he had taken to calling Garcia requesting information on a fan theory online, which he so desperately wanted to debunk. After countless minutes of begging Penelope to read him out the theories she had found, Spencer finally gave up and agreed to her terms and conditions: "chai latte on my desk tomorrow morning, and your theories will be bestowed upon Doctor You!" He was convinced the universe was out to get him.

With a sigh, Spencer dropped his phone in defeat after hanging up the line. Just as he reached for the remote to resume his marathon, a light knocking echoed through the apartment. With a swift glance out the window, checking for unusual vehicles or sketchy characters loitering on the outskirts of his building, Spencer was only met with an empty street and the pounding rain. He rose from his seat and padded over to the peep hole. No one ever paid him visits, he always ventured to other people instead; there was no logical explanation as to why there was a knock on his door this late into the evening.

Carefully, Spencer ducked to examine the peep hole, and he finally released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Within seconds, the lock flicked and the panelled door swung open, welcoming a sight for sore eyes.

There you stood, soaked to the bone. Your hair darkened and damp from the torrential storm blowing outside, and your nose red and glistening from the chilly wind. Despite it all, Spencer couldn't help but notice your radiance after all this time apart. It wasn't as though you both didn't care to see each other, it's just, well... life gets carried away. Jobs have a funny way of tearing people apart, and in your case, your jobs tore you both apart for around six months. It is for this exact reason as to why Spencer immediately feels the need to question your sudden appearance on his door step, especially considering the typhoon blowing outside.

"I need a phone." Was your answer, and he didn't miss the gentle quiver of your lip and waver to your voice, unusually smaller than he remembered. With his signature tight-lipped, kind smile, Spencer lead you to the sofa, removing you of your drenched trench coat and handing over his phone. Before you managed to utter any apologies for the intrusion, Spencer had already left the room, preparing a mug of piping hot coffee to aid your chills.

Upon his return, Spencer felt the need to break the silence, "Consuming at least 400mg of caffeine up to as long as six hours prior to sleeping can significantly disrupt your nights sleep." You gratefully took the mug with a content sigh, slipping a small 'thank you' through your chapped lips, before meeting his gaze with an answer.

"And yet, I'm such a mess you're willing to disrupt my sleep schedule." For a second, he panicked, fearing he'd truly offended you.

"N-No! No, absolutely not yo- Oh. Joking, you're joking.. well in that case yes you look insane." The twinkle in your eye had given you away.

"Yes, joking. Despite this definitely being one of the top ten shittiest nights of my life Spence, trust I will never lose my humour."

He breathed a small chuckle and nodded in agreement, silently glad you'd continue your good natured spirit, even after enduring the embarrassment of being stood up only hours earlier. You rang for a cab using Spencer's phone, and then proceeded to enlighten him of your evening from Hell. This guy had left you waiting for an hour and a half while ignoring your calls, your phone then deciding to die and the Heavens burst open, which completely soaked you through.

However, regardless of how you turned up on his door step, Spencer couldn't find it in him to feel regretful for you. Was it selfish? Of course, but, these events brought you to him. And little did you both know, in many years to come, you would be eternally grateful to the sleezy prick who left you in downtown Virginia after all.

-

As a man of science, a man of reason, even Spencer was struggling to rationalise the sudden shift in the universe. It was as if the two of you were slowly gravitating closer and closer over the following months.

You were every where. Every. Where.

After that fateful night, Spencer felt as though his feelings for you had completely changed. You were no longer only his friend he occasionally met once every blue moon. You were now, his friend who made him blush with every small wave from across the street. His friend who managed to unknowingly catch his eye. His friend who had recently found more and more excuses to pay his apartment a visit, and more and more reasons to remain in contact when he had to travel for cases.

You were here to stay. And in no world would Spencer ever be upset about that fact. So much so, he was adament to keep you in his world indefinitely.

After hours of watching old movies in his apartment, Spencer paused the TV and shifted closer to you on the sofa. In a tired haze, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, and smiled a gentle smile. One which he gladly returned.

Swallowing the lump building in the back of his throat, and supressing all self-doubt, Spencer parted his lips. "I have something for you." "For me?" You straightened your posture and faced him fully, intrigued by this information. The subtle fear and anxiety which washed over his face did not go unnoticed by you, and your interest was piqued once and for all. Why was he so skiddish?

Spencer reached behind him, retrieving a small purple bag from the side table, and held it out to you. Gleefully, you accepted the little token, proposing your theories as to what it may be; to which Spencer replied, "Open it and you'll see!" And you did.

The bag revealed a dainty gold ring, with a heart enclosed in two hands, adorned with a small crown on top. A pinky ring. It took your breath away on sight.

"A Claddagh. The tradition originated in the 17th century in a village near Galway- it- it itself is named Claddagh. The ring symbolises that love and friendship s-should reign supreme, however, the tradition rapidly evolved into giving the ring as a gift to someone you wished to court-"

"Spencer?"

Automatically, his nerves produced an immediate response; "Yeah?!"

You didn't want to cut him off as you loved to hear out his info-dumps. However, you could tell he was spiralling, with each word he spoke the fear grew deeper in the form of creased eyebrows. And if he didn't get to the point soon, the point you hoped he was beating around the bush to, you thought you would explode.

Your words expressed themselves in a small whisper, "Are you asking me out?"

His heart sunk, yet he couldn't lie to you. Despite working as one of Quantico's most prolific profilers, Spencer managed to mistake your awe laced voice for pity. He was to be alone again, he knew it. You were too good to be true.

Somehow, his voice was even smaller than how he felt in that moment, "Yes..."

Of all the reactions Spencer anticipated, he never once guessed you would jump into him on his sofa, entangling your bodies together in a tight hug, and a loving one at that. With your face buried in the crook of his neck, he heard your muffled excitement rise with each breath, "What hand do I wear it on?!"

-

Shock radiated from Spencer's core.

For years, he had grown accustomed to returning to a cold, empty and often messy apartment after cases. Nothing could prepare him for the sight he'd see once he walked through the door.

The dishes he'd left by the sink four days ago were neatly stacked in the cupboard. The lamp he'd accidentally left on in his room was switched off at the plug. The place was like a showroom, if a showroom had endless amounts of encyclopedia's stacked neatly by the TV, and a pretty girl curled up in his armchair.

There you lay in his navy sweater with nothing else asides from your black underwear. Your bare legs were folded into your chest, with your hand supporting your heavy head. He grinned once he noticed the golden glint of the band wrapped around your pinky.

Quietly, so as not to startle you from your dozing state, Spencer ventured across the room, softly setting his satchel by the sofa. When in front of you, he dropped to your level, bringing his hand up to push a strand of hair away from your eyes, and planted a gentle kiss to your nose. His grin only widened when your eyes peeled open, and a little groan escaped your lips.

"Your nose is cold y'know."

Another groan met his ears, followed by a soft pinch to his cheek. Your own way of greeting him after four long days apart, too tired to speak yet.

Spencer peppered your face in feather-like pecks, before bundling you up in his arms, escorting you to his bed - desperate to warm you up. Once he'd laid you out underneath the covers, Spencer quickly readied himself to join you before you drifted off again.

Sliding under the covers, he got comfy in your embrace, feeling like a schoolboy with you attached to his hip. His mind began to wander, and he could not for the life of him understand how he had gotten so lucky. Spencer had accepted his unfortunate destiny of solitude, finally coming to terms with the overwhelming loneliness felt in his day to day life - and there you were. Like an angel. His angel. And despite his aversion to fate, he forever thanked whatever higher power brought you to him when they did.

With a final kiss to your hairline, he wished you a goodnight, angel and turned out the light.

-

As usual, the radio hummed a quiet tune throughout the almost empty bullpen. Two more files and he could go home. Two more he told himself.

"Night, Lover boy. Happy anniversary."

Waving goodbye to Morgan, Spencer hurried to finish the remaining paperwork, desperate to get home to you. He had it all planned, a bunch of flowers sat next to him on the desk, ready to be delievered to you with a card, asking you to officially move in.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed the familiar tune of his arch nemesis. In all honesty, he didn't even recognise it at first, it had been so long since the station had last played it.

𝙄𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙, 𝙄 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙢 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙙… 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮.

For once, his blood didn't boil. His stomach didn't sink. There was calm. Gilbert O'Sullivan, he couldn't faze him now. Because, Spencer finally didn't have a single aspect of his life to relate to that soul crushing song. In fact, he never had to worry about it ever again.

He rose from his chair, grabbing the bouqet, ready to start his journey home. But first:

𝙄𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖- He turned it off.

Immediately, almost as if you sensed this monumental moment, his phone rang. With a shit-eating grin, he quickly answered with a joy he could never fully express in words, despite having every synonym for happiness memorised.

"Hiya angel, yes... yes, darling I'm on my way... I love you too."

[in1-nutshell]

Hi I was wondering if I could request transformers prime Optimus with a daughter who’s a monster truck and she’s just the complete opposite of him, like she’s energetic and outgoing but she’ll get serious in situations if she needs to. But the kids LOVE her especially miko and she just likes having out with the kids

First request of the year! This is an interesting Buddy concept that I'm looking forward to seeing more in the future. If this is not what you wanted please let me know.

Hope you enjoy!

Optimus Prime with a daughter who's extroverted and alt mode is a monster truck

SFW, Platonic, familial, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Buddy isn’t exactly related to Optimus.

Or Orion Pax as a matter of fact.

Alpha Trion once called it ‘history repeating itself’.

Orion had found Buddy as a sparkling in one of the dirtier allies.

He felt sorry for the poor thing and decided to at least help them with some fueling.

“Hello there little one.”—Orion Pax

“He—Hello?”--Buddy

“I know a place where we can get fuel. Do you want to join me?”--Orion

“What do you want?”--Buddy

“Nothing. You looked like you needed fuel. Care to join me?”--Orion

“…okay, Mr…”--Buddy

“Just Orion, Orion Pax. And what may be your designation?”--Orion

“…Buddy.”--Buddy

It was just supposed to be a bit of fueling, nothing more. The next thing he knew he was tucking the little one in his habsuite.

It certainly was a story to tell Alpha Trion the next day. Alpha Trion was just happy that Buddy and Orion had found each other. The older mech in the beginning thought Buddy was as introverted as Pax was. It turned out that wasn’t the case at all.

Buddy in fact, was a near opposite of his pupil yet held onto some of his quirks. Buddy would express more of her feelings and thoughts on subjects without fear of being talked down. Sometimes a little too fearless.

“Orion, I don’t like that mech.”--Buddy

“Buddy—”--Orion

“He looks sketchy.”--Buddy

“Buddy they are right next to you.”--Orion

“And?”--Buddy

She was an extremely passionate individual who also had a soft spot for reading up on data pads in the long halls of Iacon. Something both her and her father ended up enjoying doing together.

“Orion? Buddy? Where are you?”—Ratchet

Orion popping from behind.

“Hello there Ratchet.”--Orion

“Gah! Pax! What are you—what where’s Buddy?”—Ratchet

Buddy from the top shelf.

“Hi Uncle Ratchet!”--Buddy

“GAH! Buddy get down from there!”--Ratchet

Ratchet loved Buddy as his new niece, but by Primus could she sit still for more than a couple of seconds! Buddy loved talking Ratchet’s audials off on days she would be under his supervision while Pax was out.

He said he hated it.

That was a lie.

“Hey Ratchet, did you know there was an amusement park a couple kilometres from the district?”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Ratchet

“Can we go?”--Buddy

“If we had enough to get into a place like that, we would have the last years medical equipment and not the ones from four years ago.”--Ratchet

“Oh…”--Buddy

“…But one day we will go there.”--Ratchet

“You think so?”--Buddy

“Sometimes you just have to hope Kid. Now pass me my wrench.”--Ratchet

“On it, Dr. of Doom.”--Buddy

“Don’t call me that!”--Ratchet

“Sure thing Doc-bot.”--Buddy

“…”--Ratchet

He quite enjoyed the company during these hard times.

Soon enough Buddy began assisting Ratchet as his unofficial official nurse/ assistant in his makeshift clinics.

Megatronus met Buddy by accident.

Orion was going to meet up Megatronus after he dropped Buddy off in the archives in Iacon with Alpha Trion. The problem was that Alpha Trion had to leave for an important meeting leaving Buddy alone to their own devices.

So naturally she wanted to follow where Pax was going. But she knew that she wasn’t supposed to be following… but then again, she needed to be around trust adults, so she was really just following the rules!

Buddy was having a hard time trying to find an opening to get into the arena, so she decided to take a different route. She ‘borrowed’ a med kit and snuck into the area where the gladiators were held.

Her plan was to sneak in pretending she was a new medic to fix the gladiators then sneak back into crowds and find her father.

She passed by so many wounded and mean looking mechs.

One, however, caught her optics.

A hulking mountain of gunmetal was the correct way to describe the mech in front of her. The mech was slumped against the wall with several energon leaks coming from his frame.

At the rate it was pouring, at the rate anyone would come and help…

Buddy knelt before the mech and began melding the ripped mesh. The mech stirred under Buddy’s touch as she began to talk softly to the mech trying to get him to stay conscious.

“You took quite a beating, didn’t you?”--Buddy

“…”

“I bet the other guy is in worse shape than you are!”--Buddy

“…”

“Hey, hey, Big Guy optics on me. We don’t need you going into stasis lock now do we?”--Buddy

“…”

“Not much of a talker, are you? That’s okay, my father isn’t either. If you want, I can talk for the both of us, is that okay?”--Buddy

“…Megatronus…”

“What?”--Buddy

“My designation… is Megatronus.”--Megatronus

“Oh! That’s a nice designation! I’m Buddy!”--Buddy

The mech was quiet for the most part but he would engage in some pleasant exchanges. As soon as she was done with the patch work, she thought about her father.

The older mech offered to help her find him after the arena was closed.

Buddy agreed and stayed in the back patching up more mechs in the arena. By the time night had rolled in Buddy had befriended more than half of the fighters in the area.

“Buddy!”--Orion

“Orion!”--Buddy

“Orion?”--Megatronus

“Megatronus!”--Orion

“Orion this is my friend Megatronus!”--Buddy

“I know.”--Orion

“Huh?”--Buddy

“We know each other.”--Megatronus

“Oh! That makes things easier then!”--Buddy

“Buddy why are you here in the fighter quarters?”--Orion

“Well that’s a long story for another time…”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Orion

“Another time!”--Buddy

After that meeting Buddy would sometimes sneak into the arena with her med kits and work on the injuries of her gladiator family.

They all loved having Buddy over.

Buddy was a reminder of the innocence and kindness that Cybertron still had.

They would all exchange stories of their glorious fights and help her hide in case inspectors came in.

“The inspectors coming!”--Soundwave

“Quick Buddy!”--Megatronus

“On it!”--Buddy

Buddy latching onto Soundwave’s back.

“Hmmm… Looks like you got yourself an upgrade, hope to see you in the arena with it soon.”--Inspector

“…”

“He is gone now.”--Soundwave

“Wow! I can believe that worked!”--Buddy

Everything was good.

Until it wasn’t.

Until the day Megatronus began focusing more on his speeches than to help her hide from the guards.

Until the day Soundwave stopped talking.

Until the day Orion Pax and Megatronus stood in front of the Senate.

Until the day that Megatronus went by Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons.

Until the day Megatron no longer wanted to see her.

Until the day her Orion Pax was taken away from her and replaced with Optimus Prime.

As much as she wanted to resent both of them for changing so quickly, but in the end her love for Orion—Optimus was greater than the love of whatever was left of her beloved Uncles.

Prime didn’t want Buddy fighting in the war.

But after a series of well-built discussions, Buddy managed to get a position as a scout.

That was where she met her unofficial official younger brother Bumblebee.

“Hi! I’m Bumblebee!”--Bumblebee

“…”--Buddy

“Umm…”--Bumblebee

“You’re my brother now.”--Buddy

“Wait what?”--Bumblebee

“No take backs. Now come on we’ve got some routes to scout.”--Buddy

“…I’m so confused…”--Bumblebee

“Welcome to the club.”--Buddy

She always held an audial open for any news on Megatron and Soundwave. As much as she told everyone she didn’t care for them, there was still part of her that still loved them both.

Timeskip to the arrival of Earth and meeting the kids.

The kids absolutely love Buddy.

Miko has unofficial officially adopted Buddy as her sister.

“Hello there!”--Buddy

“You’re a Monster Truck!?”--Miko

“Umm… yes?”--Buddy

“And you like rock music!?”--Miko

“I do! It has such nice—”--Budyd

“Your my new sister now.”--Miko

“Wait what?”--Buddy

“No take backs. Come on I have a complete record of my own music for you to hear.”--Miko

“I’m so confused…”--Buddy

“Beep bep (Welcome to the club.)”—Bumblebee

Buddy and Miko sneaked off to Dune bash together in her Monster Truck mode. They love singing along to heavy metal and rock music together.

Bulkhead isn’t jealous.

Raf likes the height he gains when Buddy drives him around.

Raf’s favorite place to be with Buddy is perched on her shoulder while they both watch what Ratchet is doing.

“What is he doing?”--Raf

“Don’t know…”--Buddy

“Will you two please quiet down! You can watch but please!”--Ratchet

“Got it Doc-bot!”--Buddy

“Don’t call me that!”--Ratchet

Jack was the last one to get used to Buddy’s loud antics.

Early on labeling her as Robot Miko.

But it took one dangerous encounter with Archnid to have him rethink about Buddy.

Buddy covered in energon with Jack in one servo

“What happened!?”--Arcee

“No one died.”--Buddy

“What kind of answer is that?!”--Arcee

The two often were found in a corner in the base telling stories and talking about the latest news around the base or ‘school’.

Buddy has told the kids’ parents and guardians multiple times that she would die for them.

While the sentiment is appreciated no one likes the phrasing. Especially as Buddy takes so much after her father.

“Megatron! This stops now! One shall stand and one shall fall, and I’m not backing down.”--Buddy

Proud and concern truck noises

[empyreansentinel]

ily miss nisha kadam. design info under the read more

sheriff persona has sketchy lines + a shaded face. teeth or eyes visible but not at the same time. boyfriend mandated hyperion yellow. (a little silly.) padded shoulders and heeled boots to make her look bigger. she has several misc scars just as a byproduct of living on pandora but the notable ones are: dog bite on her neck from childhood eridium burn on her left leg from zarpedon's staff. stab wound across her abdomen from athena post-TPS. shot in the side by roland during the attack on new haven

[caileeflavoured]

i can do you for free

miles miller x fem! reader

© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!

synopsis: When Miles can’t help himself but spy on you and your client, he wonders if he can afford a night with you, too.

a/n: another fic from ages ago that i can't find on my blog anymore so whatever, idk wtf happened in this one but i know it for sure is 18+, therefore, read at your own risk!

wc: 2.1k

MAIN MASTERLIST

You entered the hotel’s lobby behind the man who’d booked a night with you. He was very generous, offering to pay double the price when you hesitated at first. 

You’d always preferred a quick job in your client’s car over an entire night in a hotel. An admittedly sketchy hotel, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. But you couldn’t refuse an offer like that, so you eventually accepted the 280 dollars.

The man wasn’t exactly someone you were looking forward to fucking with his gray hair combed back in greasy streaks and an ill-fitting suit, contrasting your comparatively youthful appearance.

The counter was abandoned, and not a single clerk in sight. You wondered if this place was even open, considering your client’s car was the only one in the parking lot, too. “Not the busiest place around Tahoe, huh?” You mentioned to your client as you stopped at the counter, looking to the open key cupboard on your right. “But I guess you prefer discretion anyways.” Your eyes fell down to the wedding band on your client’s left ring finger as he slammed his hand down on the bell a few times. Not the first married man to make use of your services. If anything, it seemed to you that most of your clients actually had someone waiting for them at home while they drove you around Lake Tahoe. 

But that was none of your business.

The door to the backroom opened and out came an innocent-looking young man, apologizing profusely as he fixed his outfit.

“G-Good evening, Ma’am. Sir,” the guy said. 

Your eyes scanned the letters on his name tag. Miles. 

Cute, you thought. Suits him, but quickly shifted your attention back to your client.

“Evening,” you and your client said, and watched the clerk as he walked to the foyer from behind the counter with small, nervous steps, clearing his throat as he stood in front of you and your client. 

With reluctant gestures, he gave an introduction to the hotel. “The El Royale is a bi-state establishment. You have the option to stay in either the great state of California or the great state of Nevada,” he explained with a shy smile on his lips, then crossed his hands behind his back.

“Warmth and sunshine to the west or hope and opportunity to the east. Which would you prefer?”

“How much for a night?” Your client asked immediately, ignoring Miles’s question.

“Eight dollars in Nevada,” Miles explained. “Rooms in California cost one dollar more.”

“Do you have a map?”

“Uh, yes, absolutely,” the young man said, walking back to the reception with quick steps before he ripped a sheet of paper off a pad and placed it in front of you.

“We’ll take this one,” your client decided and pointed to a room.

“Alright,” Miles said, handing him the key to Room 2. “Just one night?”

Your client nodded.

“That’ll be eight dollars… And please sign the ledger,” he told your client, his eyes momentarily flicking to you.

The man to your left did as he was told, and you read the name he wrote down on the blank page. 

Bryan Cleveland.

“Her too?” Bryan asked the clerk who respectfully nodded his head.

You did as you were told, handing Miles the pen with a charming smile on your lips. And for a moment, it almost seemed to you as if his entire face lit up as he sheepishly smiled but looked down to avoid your gaze.

After a short moment of awkward silence, he wished you a great stay at the El Royale and watched you disappear out of the lobby.

•

Miles was absolutely mesmerized by you, completely lost in the spell of your appearance, and the way you carried yourself so effortlessly and beautifully. He wondered what a young girl like you was doing here with such a seemingly uncivil, old man.

As soon as you left the big foyer, Miles was fighting his own mind, trying to resist the urge to go check and see for himself what you and that man were doing in Room 2. He didn’t want to be a pervert and give in to his lecherous side, but he wondered if you and that man were…

No, he couldn’t do it. 

But still, after half an hour of fighting his own deepest desires, his feet dragged his body along the dark hallway all the way to the back of the Nevada rooms. Miles passed the empty honeymoon suite first, and stopped for a few seconds, thinking this was his last chance of avoiding yet another sin. 

He thought about all the bad things he’s done in the past. The 123 people he’s killed, the people he’s recorded whenever his manager told him to. God would resent him once and for all, the chance of redemption would minimize drastically if he really did it.

But his curiosity and the enchantment you’d put on him still got the better of him. 

“Forgive me father,” he whispered to the heavens above, making that last step forward and turning to face the two-way-mirror.

Miles choked on his own spit the moment he finally saw what exactly you and and that Bryan Cleveland were doing at the El Royale. Time seemed to stand still as he watched you on top of the old man, your naked curves moving with such elegance and grace as you sat on that man’s middle.

Your hips shifted back and forth as you guided his hands to your body, letting him knead your breasts and play with your nipples. Miles couldn’t ignore the sense of pleasure the scene in front of his eyes involuntarily sent down to his cock.

He was aching for what that man had. He felt envy even, thinking you’d deserve so much better than that. But then his gaze shifted to the table on the other side of the room. 

And the stack of dollar bills on its surface. Oh. 

Miles wondered how much money that was, and then caught himself counting the few crumpled-up bills he’s had scattered around in the maintenance closet. It had to be forty at most — no way that was enough for someone like you.

So maybe the show in front of him had to be enough after all.

He pressed on the button to his right, and your moans immediately filled the silence of the dark hallway. Miles panted, his hand automatically moving to his crotch.

He felt his erection strain his pants. His brain shut off as he unbuttoned them and shoved the material down just enough to free his already throbbing cock. He didn’t want to do it, but he lost all self-control.

Miles fisted his cock, his eyes glued to your frame, jumping obscenely on that man’s hips, his ears picking up only those slutty, lewd noises coming from your mouth. To him, it felt like he was watching his very own live porn, an exclusive show just for him, with a girl so unreal he wouldn’t believe this was actually happening if it wasn’t for the undeniably authentic sense of pleasure coursing through his veins.

His hand moved faster along his length, and the feeling got more intense with each second passing. He leaned forward, needing to steady himself on the small edge of the mirror as he imagined his hand to be your deliciously sweet cunt. 

“You like that?” Your voice echoed through the speaker as you picked up your pace on that man’s dick.

“Oh, fuck! Yeah, yeah just like that!” Miles panted.

He was grateful his own voice did not echo back into your room as he got lost in the dreamlike pleasure you gave him, his own pathetic moans reverberating in that dark hallway.

He watched you turn around on that man’s lap, and your new position gave him an even better view of your gorgeous chest. He kept his steady rhythm, as much in sync with yours as possible, as he watched you bend over slightly, and the way your tits bounced even harder with each snap of your hips.

“Uh-uh. Don’t come yet,” you said, and Miles tried his hardest to obey you — it felt like you were actually talking to him — but when he watched you move your hand to your clit, and heard your moans get even louder, he couldn’t help but let that intense release wash over him.

“I’m s-sorry!” His eyes shut tightly, and he groaned as he came hard, his cum painting the lower edge of the mirror as it dribbled down the dark walls. 

He stayed like that for a moment, relishing in the afterglow of his torturously powerful orgasm until his brain seemed to finally be switched on again, and he felt a sense of disgust and disgrace.

“Oh, oh God. Oh-,” Miles stammered, quickly turning off the speaker, not daring to look at you again even though he wanted to so badly. “Oh, Lord, forgive me.”

He hastily pulled his pants back up and trotted back to the maintenance closet, promising himself and the Lord that he would never ever sin again.

•

Several hours into the night, Miles wandered around the empty foyer, looking for any kind of work to keep him occupied. Or rather his mind, which still seemed to go back to those images of you, and your heavenly body.

He had wanted to clean up his mess in the hallway, but he was afraid you’d still be making that old man happy, and didn’t wanna risk yet another moment of losing control over his own primal lust. 

So he thought it’d be best to occupy himself in the lobby and clean a little behind the bar. 

The jukebox quietly played Frank Sinatra’s Strangers In The Night in the background as Miles wiped all the surfaces of the counter and the drink display behind it. He was so lost in thought he didn’t even hear the front door open, and then fall closed again. 

He also didn’t hear your footsteps approach until you sat down on one of the barstools. You cleared your throat, finally having caught Miles’s attention when he turned around, pausing his cleaning activities as he held a wine glass in one hand and his cloth in the other.

His mouth hung slightly open as he blinked rapidly. It seemed like a nervous habit of his, you’d already noticed it when you checked in earlier that night. 

You found it cute, his entire flustered state and all. 

“Oh, my apologies,” he stammered. “Ha-have you been waiting for a while?”

“No, don’t worry, Miles,” you said with a smile. “Can I get a drink?”

He nodded nervously. “A-absolutely. What would you like?”

“You choose.”

The music changed to The Shirelles’s Will You Love Me Tomorrow as Miles poured you a drink. You took the glass from him and thanked him. 

“How much for this?” “O-on the house,” he said with a shy smile and nervous nod of his head.

“Well then, let me know if I can return the favor sometime,” you sent a smile back as you took a sip of his drink, and Miles found it utterly enticing. 

His mind went back to what he saw as he looked at you enjoying your drink in front of him. He was struggling and couldn’t help himself as he thought about your naked body now covered by that pretty dress of yours.

He was struggling even more as he felt that burning desire simmer underneath his skin again, silently praying to the Lord to give him strength to resist the urge this time. He had sinned enough in his life. 

“What’s on that little clerk mind of yours, huh?” You suddenly interrupted his internal war, and his cheeks glowed red like a Christmas ball.

He stuttered a string of incoherent words, avoiding eye contact as he tried to keep himself busy wiping the counter surface.

“You know what I am, don’t you?” You asked when he wouldn’t answer your first question. “And you know who that man is, right?”

“Please, I would never assume such things, Ma’am.” “I wouldn’t take it personally, Miles,” you reassured him. “Don’t worry.” He chuckled awkwardly, trying to look at you but he just couldn’t. He feared he’d lose the last ounce of self-control if he did.

“And I still owe you one, don’t I?”

All of this felt like an insane dream to Miles, and he kept asking himself if it was the drugs. Yet he couldn’t remember that he actually shot up tonight.

He had already made up his mind before he said anything, he just didn’t realize it at first.

“I- I’m afraid I don’t have enough- umm-“

“Money? Sweetheart, I just said I still owe you. I can do you for free. Right here, right now. Just say yes.”

“Y-yes.”

[freyito]

while it's a very popular headcanon that boothill can't feel anything from the neck down, i think there's some validity to him still being able to feel, albeit, not exactly on a human level.

while on the outside what we see is metal, considering the fact that in his lightcone his guts are literally getting rearranged... there needs to be a barrier between the metal and wires or else they will get damaged more quickly and he will short-circuit more.

so.... he mostly likely has synthetic skin between the metal plating and his wires (also to keep his blood in, since his lc also confirms that he does. have blue blood ((or it could be metaphorical, who knows?)). now, there are definitely parts of him where he can't feel, like the barrel in his arm. i assume that the entire arm was cut off from the entire "nervous system".

which, on that note, considering his entire body was unsalvageable, they needs to create some sort of stand in for a nervous system so he can actually control his body. if he didn't, then he'd most likely be toyed with by the IPC, against his will (which is quite sad to think about.)

the nervous system paired with the synthetic skin i think would actually provide... some sort of sensation. I can't go into the details of it cause I am not THAT smart... but let's just saw it could be some sort of nerve mimicking device patched along with that nervous system.

Because he is so heavily plated (as in we literally dont see any synthetic skin or anything of the sort), the touch he feels is very very muted. It's be more like... he can feel the vibrations. So faint touch doesn't register, and it's something people would have to be more firm with. So... touch may not be that meaningful to him (aside from the face and the little bits of skin we see), but I believe he can still feel it, albeit, very muted and dull. It's kind of like when you wear knee braces or something of the sort with the plastic on it and the padding, and you tap it. Just, metal is a lot denser so it'd feel a lot more fainter.

I think he'd also have some phantom pains and touches, kind of like when you're in vr for too long and like your friend pokes at you or something, you know? Or what those with prosthetic limbs feel (which is a lot more accurate to this).

also for those who write him with a PEANITS.... he'd probably have that made out of entirely synthetic skin. And most likely would've had to do his own bottom surgery or get it done at some sketchy ass place, considering the IPC adjusted his synthesia beacon AND made him as a war machine, essentially. BUT good news.... that'd be the most sensitive part of him for sure.