#spooky scary pronouns

[thehmn]

I’m currently listening to Maren Uthaug’s book 11% about a world where most men have died. I should probably wait until I’ve finished the book but I’m so fascinated by the world building.

As of now it’s still unclear why the men died but when the story takes place there’s a mix of older women who fucking hates men and young women who have only met drugged up men at “breeding centers” and imagine “males” as violent boogeymen but otherwise don’t really care and just want to live in the new seemingly perfect society their grandmothers fought for. The only people who still fight for men’s rights are witches who believe masculine energies are as natural and Of Nature as feminine energies, but even they sound more like animal rights activists, standing outside breeding centers with signs every Friday. Their most provocative sign is a picture of a man with Human written on it.

Christianity has been completely transformed and is now run by priests (they don’t call themselves priestess) who can only hold ceremonies when they have their periods and snakes are their most sacred symbol because they gave knowledge to Eva and God is called The Mother.

Trans men exist but are referred to as Man Women and they all seem to be sex workers who have functional silicone penises, though I’m not far enough into the story to know if they have other jobs. They generally also still have breasts because working as a wet nurse is another source of income for them. Testosterone treatments is not an option because it would make them too masculine and dangerous to be allowed into society but they all have male names and everyone use male pronouns for them.

A really fascinating aspect of the world is how people want to get rid of the old “patriarchal architecture” of straight lines and boxes but refuse to tear it down with machines, instead insisting on letting Mother Nature reclaim it. Only Rat Girls are actively trying to destroy the old buildings by releasing hoards of rats into them and planting bamboo to break up the concrete. New buildings have round shapes and are build in ways that make them blend in with cultivated nature and inside they’re painting in beautiful colors with no hard edges. They sound a lot like colorful hobbit homes. Also, locks are considered uncivilized and of a time when violent men roamed the earth and made life unsafe so nothing, from front doors to bathrooms, have locks. For a while after most men died women would go for Night Walks to relish in the fact that they no longer had to be afraid, though they liked to visit the witches at night because it felt a little spooky, which the witches thought was good fun.

The story is naturally about a middle aged witch who is hiding a young boy illegally and gets milk from one of the trans men in the red district while also sleeping with a Christian priest who struggles with her sacred job because her periods are irregular.

I’ll come back with follow up thoughts once I’ve finished it. Unlike what you might think, Maren Uthau isn’t a scary man hater. I’ve listened to most of her other books and this isn’t a recurring trope so clearly she has something to say specifically with this story and it’s rated pretty highly by both male and female readers. I think I’m in for quite the ride.

[sin-sidejob]

Insidious Inside Job: Halloween pt. 2

Note: Inspired by skoshibuns fanart on instagram + I have songs linked with each segment for the specific portion that goes with the monster, the plot, or both + reminder, I may be an english major but this thing is barely proofread

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, AFAB + GN PRONOUNS, RAW SEX (wrap that rascal), monster-fucking, tentacle fucking, inhuman creatures, furry fucking? One brief scene of alluded almost sexual assault/assault (that gets stopped and interrupted) incredibly vague nothing actually happens, drug use/roofied/narcotics, I guess, werewolf (slight A/B/O dynamics), breeding kink, talks of missing body parts and death, cockwarming, somnophilia the undead, zombies, doctor play, doctor kink, doctor/fake patient, living dead, experimentation with cadavers and dead bodies, mention of illness/cancer, various Halloween-y phenomena + probably more

Content: smut, spooky scary spectral holiday smuttening, monster and inhuman creature fucking, usual debauchery you can expect from me, dicks and pussy, inhuman and monster genitalia, reader has AFAB nethers/genitalia and a cunt but I don’t describe about tits so folks are safe, I used gender neutral pronouns all throughout as well. Mentions of underwear and generalized clothing but no bras or gendered articles of clothing. Southernification of Robotus (you’ll see) + probably more

! ! ! This is part two, with Reagan + Brett + Andre + Robotus + Myc. Part one, located here, includes Gigi + JR + Glenn + a bonus character ! ! !

Reagan Ridley: MAD SCIENTIST

• songs: Evil Eye - Franz Ferdinand

- You were used to the chaotic cadence that came with knowing and loving the reclusive Dr. Ridley, enjoying the maniacal dynamic and aiding her in her experiments, helping her tidy up should a test go awry. You aided her in all her endeavors, even the unsightly ones, and that dedication and mutual trust blossomed into friendship and then eventually love and list. Simple creatures, you two were, and instincts were a gravitational pull as equally potent to magnets as to mankind.

- The latter half of the year, when the weather turns and the leaves change and shed their green covers to don the classic golden hues, is when she came alive even more. She found energy in the fall and winter weather, more likely to be within the confines of her laboratory and adding scrawled, scratch-like lines into her notebooks and texts, running about with her coat billowing behind her like a shadow tethered to her, fluttering beside her with the grace of a conspirator.

- There were times when she would not need your assistance and you would be free and left to your own devices, wandering about the extravagant library and traipsing through the halls, snooping where you shouldn't, and happily receiving your punishments. Life was good and continued to be so, almost mundane in an unnatural, phenomenal way. There was no dark side of the moon to you, only the light because the shadows were your home, and the person you called lover languished alongside you in Moonglow-shaded craters.

- But your favorite moments had to be when it was you she was examining, you who she was teasing and playing with, black patent leather gloves that were entirely unsafe and unethical in a lab environment used on your form, drawing out pinpricks of chills. Especially now as Reagan hums at the sight of your disheveled state, silent beside her idle noises and internalized dialogue as if she is annotating already-written notes within the confines of her brain of you as her hands draw out more data to analyze, almost pulling all your secrets pool forth from moaning lips via her ministrations.

- Reagan is seldom tender or ginger in her touch, not in a harshness but more in a neutral, guiding, directing manner. Like moving you about with the same grace as working with her equipment and tools, movements memorized and muscles well-accustomed to all that you are. She can be softer, in aftermath moments where your body and senses can not make heads or tails of where the two of you ended or began, fully enwrapped and enveloped in one another like coiled vines of ivy, cascading upwards and intertwining in great efforts. But now, her touch is not soft, but steady and purposeful.

- Cold gloves remove clothing and secure straps onto your body, across your limbs, and holding you tight against a weathered and soft wooden table, built with the intention to be used for medical seminars and demonstrations. You lay, naked and taut upon a staged table in the center of an empty auditorium for the use of educational experimentation presentations and viewing seminars for research and study. The arena on her property is empty, no event planned for today, just the two of you in the grand room and feeling infinitesimally small, yet powerful simultaneously.

- "Not too tight?" Dr. Reagan Ridley asks softly as she busies herself with hovering over the straps that secure your wrists and ankles to the examination table, gloved hands running along oiled leather seams. "Perfect." is your answer and her smile matches the word, pride in her eyes at her wonderful assistant, her previous lover. "There's my darling, now what are te rules?" she asks, unbuttoning her labcoat to expose her blouse and slacks beneath, slinky and clinging to her body in a way that makes your firsts clench just so, palms opening and closing with the yearning need to touch.

- "Nuclear is stop, gradient is slow down, and prism is keep going, or good." you answer, squirming a bit against the restrains for show and shuffling your ass against the soft wood, feeling the cool air caress your exposed, already leaking pussy. "Wonderful," the Doctor trails off, wandering away from the table and leaving you to lay spread and scan your eyes across the planetarium-painted ceiling above and marvel at the gold leaf details in the stars and constellations, drawing you back in when she returns and adjusts her gloves with a small thwack, "now, where should we begin?"

- You don't respond immediately, not knowing how or where to answer, unable to distinguish a clear mood in her dark eyes for what she wants and what she is planning to take from you. The hesitation makes Reagan decide on her own, a dark chuckle emerging from her lips and settling in the base of your spine, curling like a funnel stormcloud. "Alright then, guess it's up to Doctor's orders." She smooths softened leather against your inner thighs and parts your lips, blowing cool air in puffs against your exposed cunt and clicking her tongue in notes as her mind wanders in fascination.

- "I think I'll start here, test your sensitivity first hmm?" she asks aloud, mainly to herself, the table raised to her waist so she can easily maneuver around you and toy with you, like a doll. It feels all like a pleasurable version of The Princess Bride's pit of despair but mixed with a sex dungeon and none of the latex. "There, how does that feel?" it feels good, decent, not enough as the first portion of her pointer finger breaches your walls, the texture not adding much besides a cooler sensation. You answer the same, and she hums before moving on, shifting in a manner reminiscent of a cat's sly sway.

- "Space for improvement, good." she comments, a stray hair falling into her forehead from her tight ponytail, dark hair pulled back and away from her face and allowing you to fully watch her move and her shifting expressions. She thrusts the finger into you, slowly and watching as you clench around her, gaping and closing in a rhythmic pattern. "And this?"

- "its g-good too," you choke out, shifting your head from looking at her to nothing, eyes shut and you try not to squirm, letting her venture as she pleased, "but not good enough?" Reagan asks, and you nod in agreement, prompting her to curl her finger upwards, matching with her second finger, and smirking, brows arching as she watches you grow more and more disheveled.

- "ah," you moan out, lip tugged between your teeth as you bite down, fists clenching and unclenching once the pleasure begins to initially build, feeling it bubble forth in your belly like a tide pool on the beach, collecting and growing as more gets put into it. "Now that's a reaction, keep speaking beautiful." she directs, curling in upward strokes from within your walls

- You nod, mewling a bit as your voice breaks and pitches, feeling her slide in another digit, pointer finger to ring finger all slotted. Her gloves are thicker, making the stretch a bit wider than what you're accustomed to, and you break a tad, grinding your hips down and wriggling, aching to get something more, and that something ends up being Reagan's attention.

- "Oh this won't do, I think you need some more advanced methods." Reagan murmurs, enjoying the look on your face as she steps back and out of your line of vision, holding back laughter as you whine and make confused tones, wondering why she stopped when she had finally gotten to the good part. "Easy now, just a moment, you can be patient for me, can't you?"

- "Yes, Doctor." She whips her head around and drops the tool in her hand, and you're worried for a second she didn't like you saying that but she arrives moments later with a silicone dick and a small vibrator in hand, accompanied by a sly grin. "Doctor, hm? We're keeping that." she states as she sets the items in her hands down beside you on the flat table, now away from your sight before you could see any of the specific characteristics or facets.

- You squirm again, chills from the exposed air finally overriding the pleasure in your veins and cooling your body. Reagan tuts at that, smoothing her dry glove up your thigh in an attempt to warm you up, "phrase?" she asks, gentle and present as she looks at you. "Prism." she smiles and nods before her expression shifts, popping the cap off a bottle of lube and warming it between her hands as she looks you over, a small smile emerging once she spots your cunt, clenching around nothing from the show she put on of her rubbing her palms together with her exposed forearms rippling.

- "Ready for me?" she asks, adjusting her gloves and then sucking off the slick residue from her one hand, purposely staring you down as she does it with intent. "Always, Doctor." a shudder that she fails to try and hide rolls through her spine at that, not fully used to you ever calling her that, especially when you're bare and at her mercy.

- "good answer." Reagan responds, lubing up the silicone and sliding it through your folds slowly, watching as you tense and begin to grind. Her hand plants your hip down still, forcing it to stop as she fixes you a warning look while she props the dick near your cunt.

- Sliding it in, she sinks the silicone dick deep into you and watches as your cunt takes it in, noting aloud how the gloves prepped you better than what she does manually glove-free. Keening out, you force yourself still and feel her hand move to instead grip your hip instead of planting it still, guiding you along in a tempo that matches the ministrations of her other hand, fucking the fake dick into you over and over slowly, picking up the pace gradually.

- "That seems to be treating you better. You agree?" barely managing a nod, you respond with a grunting moan as she angles the silicone against a spot of nerves, making you jolt and gasp. "I'll take that as a yes." Reagan jokingly responds to herself, reaching the hand once on your hip to reach away and grab the vibrator, eager to get your pent-up self breaking and shattering like glass.

- You don't realize what's happening, too blissfully unaware due to how she continues flicking her wrist, rocking the dick into you at a pace that builds tension but doesn't get that knot of pleasure unraveling at all. When the vibrator comes to life and thrums in her hand, your head whips up in that instant Pavlovian response, knowing she's about to make you see God.

- "Holy fuck please use that thing on me." you blurt out immediately, drawing a laugh from her that's dark while she fixes you a warning look, a brow raised and you rush to find your words. "Please, Doctor." Reagan hums, pleased, and then reaches down to plant the vibrator on your clit, rolling it in circles and shapes that make your legs struggle against the stirrup-like straps, body wriggling and squirming as it tries to get comfortable to handle getting fucked this way.

- "Well would you look at that, pretty damn effective." She muses, upping the vibrator speed casually with one hand as the other splits you open on the silicone cock with ease. "Next time we're going to have to test this with having both of your holes filled, probably get you squirting in minutes."

- The idea alone that she planted like a seedling in your head blooms, making you even more turned on if possible. The way the dick nestled the spots inside that already got you seeing stars? Multiplying the effect. And now the vibrator rolling over your clit and thrumming incredibly sends you over the edge, barely able to warn her coherently before you cum with a squealing moan.

- "Fucking gorgeous," Reagan marvels, fucking you through it and lowering the setting on the vibrator, still keeping it there but rolling it in softer, smoother motions while she gently fucks the dick into you, working through an orgasm that she manages to draw out for roughly a minute or so. "So goddamn pretty like this."

- She keeps going for a while until your legs stop shaking, then she removes the toys from you and moves about, undoing the straps and stirrups holding you then grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping you up in it. You sit up and scoot over to the side of the table, legs hanging off as Reagan stands before you, smoothing your hair back and checking you over.

- She busies herself with rolling her fingers over the slightly indented marks where the straps were, double checking to make sure you were okay but she doesn't catch your adoring, sleepy look until you tap at her arm and then raise your hand to lift her chin, beaming dazedly at her. "Hi Reagan." you murmur, pressing kisses to her cheek and jaw lazily.

- "Hello yourself, feeling okay?" she asks, amusement in her tone as she looks you over, making sure you're fully covered in the blanket and warm, trying to prevent you from getting overly cold.

- You giggle and look up at her, grinning wide and honest, "I could not be any fucking better than I am right now, now gimme' a kiss." Reagan obliges, and everything fades as it always does around her, in the best and most comforting blur.

Brett Hand: FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER

• song: Body - Mother Mother or My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence + The Machine

- Brett wishes he could manage to carve a place for himself in your life and at your side with as much ease as he has with loving you, completely enthralled and enamored with everything you are, all that you’ve been, and all that you’ll be. He’s fascinated by you and the intricacies in your movements and routines, the way your brows furrow when confused or frustrated, the smile you don’t show unless you’re caught by surprise and unable to remember hiding it.

- He gathers these little facets of yourself like river rocks and stones, wearing them down in the revisits of his memory, rolling them flat and small but soft in the way he reveres them. If only you loved him like he loved you. If only you actually knew him, not just of him. You’ve met before, known of each other practically since his initial creation. Yet he’s not satisfied because he doesn’t know what it’s like to be with you, only knowing you at the arms reach that he has from you helping him and fixing him up.

- You’re an assistant to his father, his creator, an up-and-coming scientist fascinated with his methods in Reanimation and modern-age necromancy, hoping to study his techniques and model some of his talents with your own. His father, Dr. Quentin Hand, made all of his siblings as initial creations and had Brett last, the youngest and most rushed one of the collection. He was an accumulation of spare parts, the battered bits left in the barrel, a literal representation of what comes from patchwork scientific craft and lacking interest. That’s not to say you didn’t treat him kindly or matched his father's lack of enthusiasm.

- No, you treated him carefully, just like the rest of his siblings. You gave him extra attention and care, sewing back on fingers should they get snagged and fall off his hand, making a few jokes all the while you thread the needle and fish it in and out of his flesh about how his hand’s should be better taken care of, especially since it’s his last name.

- his heart was monitored and he prayed you hadn’t caught the speeding up of the pace, the rapid ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum of his pre-owned heart firing off in awe of you and your presence. If you did, you don’t mention it and you just continue hemming and stitching him back together, returning his ring finger back onto his left hand with care, humming all the while some song stuck in the back of your head.

- “there,” you nearly startle him, pulling him from his reverie with a pat to his knee as you sit up from your chair and clean up, putting your supplies away and disinfecting, “all fixed. Let me know if there’s any trouble with your seams again and I’ll patch you up — no sweat.” His eyes, one hazel and the other bright blue, peer up at you with nothing short of pure adoration. It’s always there, poor boy can’t do anything to hide it. He just loves you is all.

- "Thank you, I'm sorry you have to always fix me up all the time." Brett states, rubbing his arm subconsciously, truly meaning it and knowing it had to be at least a little redundant to mend him after every trip and fall or tumble down the steps. Poor thing had no balance, something you try to work on in your spare time between projects and lessons with Brett's father. You turn, taking your gloves off and disposing of them while looking his way, a sad frown on your face making his dissipate like smoke. "Why are you sorry for that? It's not something you can help, sweet boy, and besides --" you trail off while stepping near him and fixing his hair and looking down at his still-sitting form, "I'm happy to help you, its what I'm here for!"

- and with that, you depart, heading to another appointment to experiment under supervision, He dreads the days that come forward now, nearing when you would be leaving since your education under the apprenticeship of his father ends to a close. You'd be gone, with your own experiments and helpers, a life completely devoid of him. he likes to think you'd write him or call, maybe see his name scrawled in your looping cursive handwriting and hear your words drawn across a page and yearn to find your love within them.

- but even he, Brett, a lovesick optimist knows that would be too good to be true. Within the month, you'd pack and leave and the spanning acres of his family's estate would be empty of your presence. Your quarters would miss your belongings, the posters, and art on the walls, the little personal items and books littered about. It would be as if you were never there, but to Brett, he would always remember you being there. He may have been reanimated, but the days where you roamed the halls and came across his sight were the only days he felt truly alive.

- Little did he know that you had been planning your departure for years and hoped you would go about it, what exactly you would leave or sell, what you would pack, how you would pack, and who you would take with you. "Dr. Hand, I have a request," you start, making casual conversation while you've currently got your forearms embedded in a cadaver's inner organs, organizing things, "I was wondering if I could take one of the experiments with me when I leave early this week?"

- Doctor Quentin Hand is no meek creature, nor does his stature indicate such. he was almost frighteningly tall, but with age has developed a slight hunching slouch making him roughly 6'5 with the rugby player's stature. The man is thick and bulky, with a head full of auburn hair turning grey and the shade of sunned strands with his age. "Depends on which of the creations you'd call to you, and if they'd like to go. The eldest are off limits, but should one of the children agree, you are free to take them. But only one."

- he is currently invested in combining chemicals to inject within the bloodstream when reanimation is to take place later, and luckily so. He misses your entire face light up, beaming from ear to ear behind your surgical mask and eyes glowing with excitement. "I've already decided who I'd like to bring with me."

-"Oh?" he doesn't even turn, swirling an open beaker that smells of disinfectant and acid, "who?". Dr. Hand shows no concern and even that worries you, knowing there was little love shown to the creations, and none whatsoever to your favorite. "I was planning to take Brett, the youngest of them."

-He waves a gloved hand and nods, "Of course, pack his things if he hasn't already. Be sure to invest in a lot of sutures and sewing materials as well, you will definitely need it." if you didn't need this formal apprenticeship, you would've killed him with his own reanimating equipment. "Yes sir."

- later, when you have cleaned up, changed, and wrapped up the experiment which once again went as a success, you settle down in your room and continue backing up your personal belongings into extra bags and suitcases for the items you gathered in your time here. A record plays, crackling initially but still pouring out the cadence of the Lungs album from Florence + The Machine as you wander about, clearing your shelves and delicately folding posters and emptying the walls.

- just as you flip over the vinyl to the b side, a knock rattles against your door. When you open it, you didn't expect Brett's tear-stained face to be the first thing you see. Nor did you expect him to rush and hug you, drawing you into his form and holding you close while he buries his head in your shoulder. "Why do you have to leave?"

- You think it's cruel, but it was always going to be a surprise for you to take him with you. The feelings were obvious and only reciprocated a few months ago. Sadly, you couldn't act on them until you got out from under the eyes of Doctor Quentin for Brett's sake and safety. But now that's not a worry, and you leave after breakfast tomorrow morning with the patchwork babydoll of a man before you.

- The sight enough is heartbreaking, especially with the direct feel of his tremors shaking through him, and then through you with the closeness. It takes several attempts to ease his cries and pry him up from your shoulder, stepping back to close the door behind him then flicking the lock shut before you cup his cheek and lift his head upwards. "Brett, sweetheart, how could you think I'd leave without you?" you soothe, thumbs rolling over his cheek and swiping tears away. "I wanted to surprise you but I think you need to hear it now, I'm taking you with me. I was never going to leave without you in the first place."

- Brett blinks blearily, wiping the tears from his multicolored eyes to stare at you openly and dart his gaze between your own eyes. "You're serious?" he asks, still buried in disbelief, "why would you want to take me, you barely even like me." Brett's met with laughter, not caustic or harsh and at his expense like what he's used to, yours is lighthearted and kind, just like your eyes. "Sweetheart, I care for you a great deal beyond just liking you." you say, taking his hands in yours, the ones you've constantly tended to like the rest of him.

- "What does that mean?" Brett asks, squeezing your hands tight and finding it impossible to look anywhere in the room besides your face. "It means I love you, silly thing, and I refuse to let you stay here any longer when you deserve the world. Let me show it to you." His tears reappear again but its relief, the feeling that swarms his body and makes him feel shrouded in Moonglow. You care for him, you love him, that his years of pining after you and hoping, praying for a miracle were worth it. You loved him, your silly ragdoll.

- "Say it again." he says, his hands moving from yours to your waist, brushing the bare skin where your shirt has ridden up with ease, aching to feel more of your warm skin in his palms. "I love you Brett." you murmur, forehead pressed to his as you press your palms to his chest, fingertips tracing the material of his henley while humming in a pleased tone once his hands begin to wander.

- "One more time." he whispers as he leans forward to catch your lips with his, admiring how your eyes flutter shut when he does. You kiss, lips shifting back and forth as you murmur how you loved him into his open mouth like a secret, and he'd cherish and protect it as such. Brett pulls back, palms cupping your warm cheeks just as you had previously with tender grace and you spot his tears have ended.

- "I will never let you down," he promises, smile bright and crooked, perfectly him and equally as charming, "I swear, you'll never regret this, never." and you know its the truth, not because he says it but because you've known for ages that there was no one else you'd care for this much. As if he was made solely for you, perfectly patchworked together.

- In an act of bravery or stupidity, you grab his hand and step backward towards your still-made bed, peering up at him from lidded eyes. "I know that, but how about you show me just how much you love me right here, hm?" you tease, loving how his mouth fell agape and his arms fled to your waist again, eagerness steeped into his actions like tea. "Can I?" brett asks, always the soft, chivalrous, perfect man. "Absolutely." you respond, already ushering out of the shirt and baring your chest to his hungry, heterochromial eyes.

- he spares no time in crowding you against the bed, climbing atop your languid form and pressing doting kisses at your lips then making his way down to your neck, eagerly leaving hickeys and marks while he undoes your belt and shucks your pants down. He bares your underwear to him and leaves you to kick off your socks with your pants, making a pile on your rug you don't mind at all. "Can I taste you?" he practically pleads, lifting up to stare down at you, beating you to the question you were just about to ask him, making you laugh once more, still that lighthearted sweet sound. "Maybe later, and then ill be able to suck you off. Right now I just want you in me, Brett. That okay?"

- he's torn between crying, busting a load in his jeans, or both. Brett just nods, lip tugged between his teeth and moving with all the enthusiasm of a hyperactive puppy, kneeling on the floor to help you slide off your underwear and nearly drooling the second he spots your bare cunt. He's running on more basic, bare instincts but wants nothing more than to flood your cunt with his cum and keep it there, keep himself there as long as he can. Never wants to leave you, and he never wants the marks and signs of him on you to fade either.

- "are you-" "yes I'm sure Brett, now can you please take your clothes off so I can ride you?" he nearly trips over himself in the process of standing and yanking off his shirt, which he does in that hot lift it from the back of the neck and tug it forward trademark style that has a new layer of slick pool forth. His jeans are mid-rise but are slung low, boxers peaking out briefly before he abandons those too, revealing one appendage you never had to mend. You're a bit glad, you ended up with a surprise too tonight, who would've thought?

- Brett returns, not knowing where to sit or lay until you shove him back to sit against the pillows upright, allowing you to sit on his lap and lay your arms over his shoulders while hovering, teasing before you to be gifted this man's virginity just like you were given his heart and soul. "You sure, baby?" you murmur, knees outside of his own and pressed chest to chest, "I can wait however long you need to." Brett grins, playful and teasing in his own way, and nips at your lip. "I'm okay, m'good, cant wait t'see what it feels like to be buried in you, probably even warmer than you feel right now." He emphasizes with a large and running up your bare spine, sending you arching and your knees threatening to buckle. You sometimes forget how big he is, and with the hefty dick bobbing near his stomach, you're not sure how you could have ever forgotten.

- "Take me then, babydoll" and he does, large hands encompassing your hips as he guides you to sit on his dick, slowly letting it enter and let you get accustomed, "there you go, nice and - fucking tight" Brett murmurs, voice deeper and getting you more riled up than you know what to do with. You had seen him bare plenty of times, but never fully, and the experience was doing you wonders right now as you rested for a moment and let him breathe before you started bouncing on him and making him cum way earlier than you know he'd like. You'd enjoy it anyway.

- He whines after a few moments, his hips shifting and making you both groan, his head falling back into the pillows and his fair falling into disarray, strands of auburn and reddish brown falling into his forehead. "Please, just fuck me, have me I just need you." Brett whines into your neck again, no tears this time as his arms wrap tautly around your form, allowing you to feel divinely sculpted muscles hold you tight and made your walls clench, relishing in his squeaking moan. You'd break him. good thing you know how to put him back together. "Easy baby, I've got you." you murmur, smoothing back his hair before you lower to your haunches and lift your hips, slamming back down and sending him yelling your name while biting his teeth into your shoulder.

- Oh yes, you were absolutely going to break him.

- You fuck yourself on him, feeling his hands grip and drag across your body as you use him, rolling your hips in shapes, occasionally spelling his name out through your gyrations and smiling to yourself as you watch him fall further and further into a mess, hair mussed, mouth agape and eyes tight shut. The skin of his lip is nearly broken open from how much he's bitten and tugged on it, puffy and reddened on his flushed and freckled face. Brett rises and clings back onto you, suddenly shifting his hips and fucking up into you, letting you hear louder slaps of skin against skin while he manhandles you. "M'gonna' cum, gotta' cum can I please cum — I wanna cum so bad, please." he begs, planting kisses at your collarbone and pulse sporadically between broken moans and pants.

- You never expected the reaction nor your own, unable to fight the feeling emanating from your soaked and silken cunt as he fucks up into it, stretching you wide in a way you'll never be tired of. "You can cum, go on and fill me, Brett, wanna' feel you for days. Please Brett, make me feel good." your boy delivers, jackhammering into you and making you cry out, tugging at his hair while his hands plant themselves at your waist in order to maneuver you around, biting deep at your shoulder when he cums with a broken, shattered shout of your name.

- The way his hips stutter in that frantic pattern, battering your cunt that has you squirming and grinding, you cum rapidly and heavily, whiting out and feeling your surroundings blur to nothing as you repeat his name over and over, clawing down his back as he slows and finally stops, holding you impossibly close. You take longer than he does recover and return to the world, head lolled back and breathing heavy, allowing brett to lay the two of you down and upon the pillows, wrestling the comfort and sheets over your sweat-slicked body and his.

- He always wanted to be a part of your life, and now, years later, he can't stop smiling and hasn't stopped since. Your silly, smiling ragdoll of a husband.

Andre Lee: W E R E WO L F

• song: Howlin’ for You - The Black Keys

- Andre was superficially open, not talking of more intimate aspects of his life but being carelessly free with the rest, and the personal factoids and tidbits emerge in passing comments in conversation send your brain whirling.

- he’s never answered any of your questions as to why he avoids full moons or why he’s unreachable during some times of the month, closest you’ve gotten was Myc cracking a joke about menstruation but you know damn well from a fuck ton of personal experience that he’s absolutely packing heat.

- he’d been sick the past few days, not fully present in meetings and a bit light headed. It got shrugged off as side effects from any number of drugs but you knew better. The disregard and dismissals that came from him when you showed concern were what made that worry and concern grow, manifesting and sprawling into a thorny expanse of knots tugging at your conscious, fixated on helping him.

- so you stand before an older home, 1920’s brick masonry hidden behind modern day paint, sidled beside the other brownstones on the block and fish out your key on the chain he gifted you, a little cartoonish duck smiling brightly while flipping you off, and turn the series of locks in the door while balancing some takeout on the other side.

- after several moments, you make it inside and lock back up, setting your keys alongside Andre’s in the bowl near the door and spotting the matching fuck duck keychain and smiling before making your way through the house, easily navigating through the darkness and making it to the kitchen to drop off some takeout for the egg drop soup he always ordered when sick. “Andre?” You get no response, the house quiet and your brows furrow while your lips purse, that worry unfolding again, “sugar? Where are you?” You get no response and your words echo in the house

- you get no response but you hear a groan, muffled and heady, soft and barely heard. But it’s his, and you drop everything in your hands upon the counter and follow the sound, brain a slurry of what ifs and remembering his medical history should you need it. By the time you make it back further in the house and to his bedroom, the doors locked shut. Real shut. You knock harshly and call to him, voice a bit desperate “Andre honey, you okay?”

- “go away.” It’s him, but not, deeper and meaner that the Andre you’re used to. It’s not a deterrent. “Not if you’re not okay, let me in.” You try the doorknob again and he shouts out “it’s not safe for you right now, go away.” He says more but you don’t hear it through the door. “What do you mean it’s not safe, Andre let me in.” you cry back, banging the side of a fist against the door, beating it loudly trying to persuade him to let you in. Probably not the most convincing manner.

- “GO! You’re not supposed to be here, m’gonna hurt you.” confusion could not even begin to explain what was going through your head, throat taut with fear, “Andre, I could give a fuck, I’m not leaving you like this.” He’s pleading in a sad rage, like a storm with no lightning, all thunder, “I don’t want t’hurt you, please, please just go.” You refuse, and say the same before you break the lock on the door then try and come in, not getting through until you back up and ram a shoulder into it once, twice, finally busting it on the third impact.

- he had warned you for good reason, and the yellow eyes that meet your gaze from a huddled, shadowed corner solidify that. “Should’ve run.” comes murky from him, his mouth moving oddly and you realize with horror he’s not in his regular body. It’s a larger, hulking form of shaggy fur in muted brown and chestnut hues, dusted with black and grey into a slurry of fur. A fucking wolfman was not on your list. “Werewolf?”

- “Yeah.”

- “Considering our jobs — this isn’t all too horrifying.” He bares his teeth, canines glinting, “I take that back — somewhat.” Andre chuckles, darker but remains curled in on himself in the corner of the room, staying far away from you. “Why am I not supposed to be here sugar?” You ask softly, stepping hesitantly further into the room and eyeing him warily, unsure about the entirety of this situation and wishing Elliot fucking Mothman had better-prepped staff for other forms of cryptids.

- “‘cause I’ll fuck y’ and I won’t stop.” He growls out, nails digging into knees bare of clothing and covered in fur, “not safe f’you, I could hurt you.” He doesn’t meet your eyes this time, eyes turned away and trying to shrink as far as possible into the corner, wanting to keep you at bay before his senses and instincts took over and took you. Andre doesn’t see you, but he feels you in the room. The way you smell and he puffs of breath, the thud of your heart.

- so he immediately clocks the second your pulse races at his words and how your heart flutters, along with your cunt. Andres eyes snap back to you just in time to see a shy but sensual smile on your lips. “What if I want you to hurt me?” Is what he hears from your lips, and he forces himself to sit still, ignore the erection against his thigh and the urge to fuck you until your womb got stuffed to the brim and he got you knocked up. “You better mean that.”

- “oh,” you strip yourself of your shirt and other clothes swiftly, like a subtle strip tease but far smoother and graceful than anticipated, “I mean it. Show me how much you love me sugar, I can take it.” You walk over to the bed on the other side of the room, curling up against the pillows and grin, spreading your legs and exposing the entirety of yourself, eager to mark off this box on your sexlist checklist. “Fucking better.” Is what Andre responds with, rising slowly and missing the tall ceiling by merely a foot, taking his gangly form towards the bed and closing his eyes, sniffing visibly and having his body falter, your scent encompassing any logic he had left.

- “look at that,” he chitters, teeth making his grin a bit more daunting, “already spread for me. Cute. Now turn around.” Andre orders, lurking before the bed as you shift, resting on your folded forearms and raising your ass in the air. “Good,” he praises, a hand grazing your arched waist while he settles behind you, “couldn’t follow orders earlier, but that’s just because you were worried, hm? Going to be good f’me now. I know it.” Andre settles himself on his knees behind you, arms planted on either side of your torso and he leans atop you, breath fanning your ear as he teases you, makes the eager nerves alight as goosebumps trail across your bare, vulnerable form.

- “gonna’ let me fuck you? Let me bury my cock in your pretty cunt over and over until there’s nothing left in you but me?” He muses, erection tapping at your ass and feeling much heavier than what you’re used to. You hum, trusting him to take care of you and fuck you right. “Mhm, let you stuff me like a fuckin’ brood mare, now please, c’mon and fuck me Andre.” He swats your ass with his hand, watching the fat of it jiggle and your waist bend high, “don’t have to tell me twice.”

- You bite back a few comments the second he brushes his flared, sloped cockhead into the opening of your cunt, the tip alone bringing a stretch of pain. Burying your head in the pillows around your forearms, you mewl and whimper aloud tossing both your head and your ass back. Andre’s one hand is beside your torso to plant himself while the other is on your hip, guiding your hips back towards him so he can slowly enter and sink his cock into you. "Atta' babe" he croons, breath fanning across your back in a way that makes your spine tingle.

- He lets out a whine that huffs hot air across your spine, sinking in his cock as much as your cunt can fit, several inches still untended to between where the two of you meet. His balls brush your clit when he bottoms out, and he stills, Andre's restless lungs beating his chest into your back and you can feel him through and through. "Fuck, tight little cunt, gonna' fucking break it." Andre groans low and heady as he begins to rock back and forth, in a humping motion that sends his balls smacking into your clit with little pats, making you grateful a hand now plays underside and holds your belly while the other holds him up, your body on the precipice of collapse with the angle, the feeling, all of it.

- "fucking stuff me," you blurt, pathetically trying to rock your hips back into his and you cry out each time, bulbous cockhead nudging your cervix with each shift, feeling him in your guts, "breed me full, knock me up." These were words you had used previously during sex with him, the concept not being new, only to the situation at hand. With Andre being fueled by rampant urges and instincts, barely holding on, your words were like an on-switch that sends him immediately pressing you into the bed and snapping his hips roughly, snarling. into the skin of your neck like he's on a mission, and in a way, he is. Meant to mate.

- "ah, oh fuck, Andre." you keep crying out his name between crying out incoherencies, encompassed by the way he absolutely fucked the breath from your lungs, knocking everything out of you and then drawing it back in just as he slots in, and out of your drenched, dripping cunt, slick now sprawling from his dick and balls, your thighs, to the torn and tossed sheets beneath. There's a fleeting, barely conscious thought of now knowing why sex was called the beast with two backs, the words of Othello never even a full thought as you get plowed from behind.

- oh yeah, you were never going to leave him to deal with a full moon alone, not if this is what your good deeds and diligence get you - being bent over like a broodmare and fucked like it's a need to survive, to breathe. You are livin' good.

- "taking me so damn well, gonna' pump you full, fill you over and over until others no space inside that I haven't covered." he rambles, hurried and frenzied and deep in pitch, snapping his hips rapidly as the sound of skin slapping melts into a blur with the heavy pants and breaths, the snarls and moans and groans the two of you let out, animalistic and primal, fucking elite and top tier in your honest, raw-dogged opinion. "Gonna' give you a child, claim this fucking pussy, all of it, s'all mine."

- You groan out, burying your head in your forearms and feeling his weight atop you, the way he keeps bullying his giant dick into you and fucking you apart, working you like dough in the way he works you over. "Like that? Like me marking you up, being Andre's breeding bitch?" he snarls, sounding so potent in your ear where his head hovers, splayed across your back while his hips do the work.

-"Just feel that," he murmurs, hand pressing into the fat of your belly to press against where he thrusts into you, making you squeal into the pillows as he shows off, his demeanor so contrasting than how he usually is, even in a raging fuck, "gonna' fill you to the brim, baby, already stretching you wide. Belly full of me."

- "God, please — fuck," you're babbling, fucked out and quote literally drooling upon your forearms and the pillows holding your head up, as backing into his thrusts and mewling with the brush of his balls against your clit, everything wet and sloppy, "wanna' be bred, wanna' be yours — I wanna' be yours." Andre lets out snarling laughs, darker than abyssal skies, into your shoulder blades which he litters with nips and bites of sharp teeth, little pinpricks adding to the utter euphoria of getting absolutely pounded.

- "gonna cum, arent'ya?" he drawls, leaning to huff through his nose near your ear and you smell him, sex and musk and earthy amber, you wanna drown in it. "Go on, soak this cock so I can fuck you stupid." It takes a few thrusts later, but you do and you absolutely blackout, the world turning into a white canvas that slowly lifts as you feel Andre fucking into you, pace hurried and faltering as he babbles rapidly, stitching together curses and praise like an ornamental garland.

- Cum is absolutely pouring at that point, rivulets stuck in smears across your ass and thighs, drenching his balls and making them smack wetly against the mouth of your cunt. He's come already at least twice by the load of it and is working on a third orgasm that makes your ass ripple with the force behind his thrusts. "All mine, no one gets to see this, have this, my pretty mate." he's talking to just himself at this point, assuring insecurities while nearly fucking you through the mattress, hell it's a miracle the bedframe hasn't broken. Or the wall.

- You whimper and moan weakly, just taking it at this point because all you feel in your bones is the warmth of orgasmic bliss, full lethargy and no intent to move, feeling so sated and tender than you could simply pass away with a beaming, I just had sex grin that would out do anyone else's, besides Andre's. What plucks the strings of reality a bit is a moment his teeth latch onto your shoulder, marking rows of teeth into a bite marking you as his. He fucks you through it, coming with a shout of your name that is more of a gravelly howl than anything, cum literally flooding your cunt and dripping down everywhere, making a mess of everything.

- Andre's near whimpering, fucking into you weakly while his erection softens inside you, laying on top of your form before wrapping his arms around and having you both shift onto your sides, him spooning your considerably smaller form in his considerably sized state, completely enveloping you in his hold, warmth, and love, soothing your fucked-out and pumped-full state onto the precipice of slumber.

- "M'love you." he mutters into your neck, nuzzling against your pulse as his arms coil around your belly, ensuring you stay in his arms and snug around his dick, "love you too." is what you reply, sounding not like your own voice in the exhausted, airy lilt. It's the last thing you remember before being woken up in the morning to an apologetic and scruffy Andre, back to normal with a plate of breakfast in hand.

- "Andre, honey, we are definitely going to be doing that again."

Robotus Alpha-Beta: D E M O N

• songs: Devil’s Advocate - The Neighborhood or Have A Cigar - Pink Floyd

• fanart: by @olexxx right here

- you’re desperate, and tired of calling after things in the light and day that don’t answer. You now call out for and beg for something from the night, standing in the crossroads with a box of offerings in your hands and a plea so heavy on your tongue it weighs you down like an anchor to a boat, dividing the seas currents in cleaverlike strokes. Crying out into the night, screaming for an answer, yelling out that you’ve done the right things brought the right stuff, made the right calls, you’re frustrated and distressed in the middle of this night, clad in clothing that the wind whips around your form, slinky against your chest and thighs. You’re a vision of desperation in this witching hour, and who would he be to deny your broken-hearted, bargaining pleas?

- “mighty pathetic looking, aren’t you, pretty thing.” He strolls out from the tree line, hands in his pockets of the seersucker suit he wears, hiding his eyes in the shadows while he meanders his way over dirt path and dandelions, plants dying in the markers where his footprints lay. “Pray tell, what brings you to my spacious lay of the woods?” He drones, and you’re too consumed in your own ordeals to fully analyze his appearance and demeanor, ready to bargain and barter down to the bones should it go that far.

- “I just wanna’ deal. That’s all.” You start, laying the tin box down on the ground between the two of you where you stand in the clay dirt and ash of the crossroad, pitch black sans the one flickering, sad looking streetlamp. “What will you take for sparing someone’s life?” Is what comes from your lips next, and he’s almost surprised at the dedication you show in selflessness, musing to himself in the ongoing internal dialogue that you should get one of those flimsy gold stars.

- “Depends on a lot my dear,” the demon drawls, hands gesturing in a manner that reminds you of evangelical television preachers or cable game show hosts, “who am I curing and what ails your beloved patient?” He picks the dirt from his fingernails and you wish you pry out the nails from that tin box you got from a coffin, and force them one by one into his skull for his nonchalance, his disinterest in a deal that meant more than the world to you.

- “my friend, she’s sick. Cancer. I want her cured and for her to live a healthy life and die naturally of old age. What will you accept in exchange?” You’re direct, straight and to the point, shoulders squared and eyes flint and steel, fire flickering in the shards of your irises. Refusing to let him abuse a loophole, you’ve stressed every requirement and plan — ramming the nails in straight. “Straight to the point, I like that.” He drawls, crooked grin smarmy and slimy in the snake oil style, making you envision car dealerships and the price is right but shrouded in brimstone and fire. “The question isn’t what I’ll ask of you, but what you’re willing to offer, dear.”

- he claps his hands together, a MontBlanc pen appearing in his hand and a weathered paper, looking older than your entire bloodline in the way it looks like if the wind blew a fraction harsher, it’d disintegrate. “Alright pet, lay your offers on the table and I’ll see what I’ll accept — but remember,” the demon before you with sky blue eyes pauses, looking like a walking business advert with his suit and tie, shiny cufflinks and a glittering Patek Philippe watch, “no promises.”

- you bite back the myriad of things you’d like to say to this bastard in human flesh-trimmings, but you need your friend more than anything. She’s your world. You’d give your own up for her, and you plan to do exactly that. “My entire self —“ he raises his brows, lips splitting into an amused grin and attempts to interrupt, but you wave a hand and fix him a look, the don’t fuck with me while I’m talking stare, “for part of the week, for the rest of my natural, long and healthy life. You’ll get Tuesday through Thursday, and I will be free to do what I wish the remainder of the week, every week. Sans holidays which I get to myself.”

- he’s still smiling as if it’s within the job application but looks about as pained as if he’s suddenly contracted a bout of irritable bowel syndrome. “And you’re completely mine the entirety of those three days, the full 72 hours?” You nod, face as polished as stone, equally as cold and ungiving. Hes never encountered a wayward soul like yours. Intrigue mars his mind more that he’d care to admit, but it makes the results of bartering so much better. “We have a deal then.”

- he scrawls in loopy old fashioned cursive, slanted and sloped in a manner that reminds you of history class, and fills in the blanks of his document signing your life away to him. He flattens the paper, then signs it himself and hands it to you to sign as well. You spot the larger A and B initials, shortened to AB, but can’t make out the last name, only the large R and the mussed squiggles behind it. Doctorish scrawl, hasty and impatient.

- you sign your signature and life away, not regretting it the instant you get a series of texts from your friend, her energy and liveliness returning in an instant. You pocket your phone then get dragged forward by the elbows, calloused fingertips and softened palms cup your cheeks before drawing you into a fleeting kiss. He pulls away and before you can act, he vanishes in a cloud of ash and dust, the contract within your grip and an emptied tin box at your feet. A kiss to seal the deal.

- you don’t see him until the next week, spending your time with your loved ones and with your best friend, cherishing and relishing in how she’s safe and healthy again and she would always be. The chime of reality rings twelve times, the man appearing in a click of loafers against the tile floors outside your apartment and wraps of his knuckles against the front door, coming to collect you. You’re alone and have been, making sure to be in the comfort of solitude once your first day as a demon’s bitch begins. AB opens the door and strolls in, hands in the pockets of some pinstripe slacks and a chain dangling from near his hand to a slim pocket on his suit vest, thin white stripes against navy fabric making his already tall form elongate.

- the demon struts in with the casual air of devil-may-care, eyes like a cats in how they’re languid but attentive, drawing everything in and sitting until something interesting pulls his direct attention forth. “Quite a home you’ve got here, just you?” AB muses, sauntering with the air of a spoiled house cat. “Yes, just me, now can we get on with whatever you have entailed for my next 72 hours, the suspense Y’know, got me absolutely hooked.” You respond, end of your sentence dripping in sarcasm like a freshly immersed pen nib into an inkwell and equally as dark.

- “impatient too, aren’t you just a bag of tricks,” he muses, lulling and faux cadence in a demon's silver tongue taste, “all in due time. Best to wait and see you squirm.” AB stands before a bookcase, fingertips tapping along spines of books then dusting over a picture frame with your friend, weary Polaroids paling in comparison to this snapshot of her and you several years ago, faces lit in the warmth of lanterns in summer sunset. He holds it longer than he’d deem appropriate, and he doesn’t seem to care or know why.

- “are you always this articulate or does it come with the Armani suit?” You snap, knee bouncing as you sit on the couch, lips chapped from how frequently you’ve gnawed on them in your nervous state, wanting to lose your sanity but unfortunately finding yourself incredibly lucid and stable. Against all odds. “Naturally, pretty thing, some creatures possess decorum and manners — I see you speak from inexperience.” He teases, setting the frame down and wiping his hands on his slacks, adjusting the cufflinks that glitter with initials laid in obsidian and platinum.

- He continues speaking, giving you no opening once more to speak or further deride the demon before you, meandering about your home as if he was not just showing the place, but was trying to sell it as a realtor and making the process as painfully personal as possible. "Do you have a tendency to get squeamish or easily frightened?" "I doubt it, due to how there's a demon I'm casually conversing with, so I'm going to have to say no."

- He chuckles darkly, and you see a glimmer in those glacier eyes of something far colder, and you mark it down for later. "Clever, but such a costly trait. Mind your tongue." You sit and take it in stride, having been braced for an overgrown petulant toddler playing around in daddy's suits. "Since you're being so patient," he mocks, he rolls his sleeves to the forearms after shucking off his jacket and snapping it away in a move that makes you think of hammerspace, "we'll get started. You are to shadow me as I go about dealing. Mind your tongue, presence, and entire demeanor. You are here to help me, gain insight on a modern human mind and soul, not to aid anyone but me due to how I control something far greater than your own life."

- He doesn't hesitate to gut you in the way you've been hung out to dry, hollowed like a side of beef swinging from a hook in a walk-in freezer, dripping onto a frozen floor in tandem with your bravado slipping. AB glances over your expression and smiles, childish and juvenile in a charming, redeemable fratboy sort of way. "Alrighty, now let's get you started."

- and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you began the first day of deals. It flew by, as they all would, you watching from the sidelines or removed from sight to watch as a deal went down. You could clock the bastards who were overly cocky, thinking they could outsmart someone so much older than them it was like the universe looking upon Earth's moon. Planet to sand grains. Pathetic - no match.

- the souls would fade one by one and you would spend your hours prior to the deal observing them from the outskirts in strangers behaviors, deception now a part of your ensemble in equal to your rings or shirt. "Did you observe me before we struck my deal?" you had asked later on in the duration of your servitude, roughly a year into your partial work weeks under the eye and lens of the demon. He laughed, a chiding yet lilting sound that resembled when storm clouds rumbled when the sun still shone, "Oh absolutely I did, my dear, quite entertaining and almost heartwrenching the way you went about your plans. Absolutely precious."

- AB speaks over his cocktail, Pappy Van Winkle bourbon dark and syrupy in the basin of his Waterford crystal glass, sliding about the thick ice cube like molasses, "I will say you have been the most entertaining of my companions in a long time." The way he says it lingers and you assume it's longer than you could perceive, centuries being seconds to the being beside you. It is a fleeting moment of wistfulness before he clocks his newest wayward soul and stalks forward, running a hand through his hair and barely messing his strands up, the greying streaks in his auburn hair falling upon his forehead like a staged motion, queued up to go for a movie scene.

- You tried not to watch more than you needed to when having to help him with his deals, but this time in the low light of a seedy corner alley bar, he glittered like the cufflinks he always wore. Dark obsidian and platinum, simple yet something so potent about it resembled him. If you hadn't sold your life away to the entity, he'd resemble a side character from American Psycho, far too charming to make it into the main role. It was harder to hate him than how he looked, the manner in which you dealt your days away gave you your friend back and a more stable life, albeit the hellish tasks.

- You didn't quite care for how much you cared for him, why you get enamored with him and all that he encompassed. It was disastrous and bordering a Stockholm syndrome, or at least that's what you told yourself when indulging in ice cream and childhood movies. What worsened your situation was an event that occurred in your off hours, out with friends and enjoying yourself in a night of freedom and levity. It went wrong, as you assumed it could, but had not expected the situation to unfold as it had nor the end result to your night.

- "I still don't understand, you crushing on your boss? Understandable, not doing shit about it, perplexes the fuck outta' me." Rory, a friend from high school mentions and brought a series of laughs from your booth at the club. "It's improper-" You're suddenly cut off. "Since when did you ever give a shit about proper?" another friend chimes in, and you sigh before downing the remnants of the drink before you. You get up, go to the bar to get a drink and avoid the terrible topic along with trying to escape the environment altogether. It's not your scene, too loud and overwhelming. It gets even worse after the initial sips of your drink when the world turns hazy and you don't know where you're going, nor whos leading you away.

- "Move them this way, out of the light - there, I told you no one was going to find us here." one of the two figures surrounding your hazy, barely conscious form voices, the other laughing along as they work at your shirt before a dark laugh comes from the opening of the alley, and a glint of polished silver meets the glare of a streetlamp. Its something out of a noir film but you're relieved when you hear his voice, trying to sit up and failing. His name falls from your lips, faint and sad sounding, and his glacier eyes melt away into a darkness never seen before even in the furthest of depths within the oceans.

- It takes no time for him to dispatch the two who had drugged you, the rage pouring off of him in waves you can almost see, even in your bleary state. It's as if someone coated your brain in a fog and dipped it in some liquid nitrogen. "Oh, pretty thing, what have they done to you." is what he says when he crouches near your form, bloodstained but almost holy, a savior without wings. You try and answer but he shushes you, lifting you into his arms securely with the strength beneath his tall, barrel-chested form. The two of you dissipate from the alley and leave behind blood trails no one will find, bodies gone as well to languish on hooks in rings of hellfire AB will personally see to.

- The next thing you recall after being saved up in his arms is waking in a bed far too luxurious to be your own, and enveloped in silky sheets and even silkier pajamas, deep navy blue wrapped around your form so comfortably you just snuggle back into the pillows before you fully wake to reality with a start, remembering what almost happened and sitting up, flying out of bed and wandering out to figure out where the fuck you were.

- "there you are, dear, feeling okay?" is what greats you, AB sitting at a couch reading from a book that once again looks more ancient than your entire bloodline, genuine concern feeding into his expression and making you blink, sleep still laden in your heavy eyelids begging you to go back to sleep. "You saved me." he shrugs off your comment, rising to meet your form in the doorway and taking you by the shoulders, trying to turn you around back into the bed you left. "Go on to bed, I'll bring you something-" he fixes you a look, "its an order, go rest. Your loved ones know you're safe and sound. Now, bed."

- You fall back asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, and the next time you wake there's a change of clothes on a chair near the bed, a plate of food on the nightstand, and a pitcher of water with clean glasses readily available. In no rush, you take your time eating and then getting ready before padding barefoot out into the home you find yourself in, spotting AB finally in a kitchen you'd drool over in an issue of Architectural Digest. "There you are, rested?" you nod, cupping your glass of water in your hands and seating yourself down at a barstool beside the kitchen island, glancing around at the sprawling chef's kitchen, "they've been taken care of." AB trails off, in a casual button-down and slacks, leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed over his chest, taking a second before he looks over at you with steely, ice eyes.

- "No harm will ever come to you." your brows furrow at that, wondering why he would care so much about a person he literally owns. You voice it out loud and he guffaws, looking at you incredulously as if the answer was always there, and in a way, it had been. "Dear, you're mine. Contract bound and now, by design. No one ever lays a hand on you let alone exists a second afterwards." The glass in your hand is set down and you lean back in your chair, staring at him and wondering if the entirety of the past months of partnership you were not the lone one pining. He validates it when he approaches and falters, warming once you breach the gap and take his hand into your smaller one.

- You finally break, grasping for him and hugging him close as his bulkier form bends to hold you, knees bent in order to acclimate to your seated position. He rubs your back as you shudder and shake, warm broad hands soothing you down and facing you until he kneels and looks up at you. "I promise you, you're safe." and you want to say you believe him, but you still don't feel it, just take his hand off your knee and imbed it into your heart so he can feel how it beats, how the fear creeps into your lungs like an infection. there's no need, for he cups your cheek and tilts your chin to meet his gaze. Then it's over.

- the waiting ends, and he kisses you, tender and delicate and something so utterly unlike him that it takes you aback, almost slack-jawed for a millisecond before you realize it's him kissing you and you relish in it, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him closer until he's caged you in, safe from harm. He groans, and you part your legs at the sound, letting him fully press against you in the chair and wrap around you. "My pretty thing." AB groans against your lips, and you whimper at the sound of it so broken on his tongue, so different than the calculated and meticulous tone he took.

- "Prove it" is what flies from your lips as you bite his, feeling him grin darkly against your mouth as he lifts you into his, different from the bridal carry form the other night with how he hefts a handful of your ass into his palms while your legs wrap around his waist while he carries you into the other room. "Gladly." is whispered once he deposits you into a lavish dark bed, his own, and strips himself of his shirt and bares a chest scattered in auburn hair matching in grey streaks like his head, making you wonder about what lies lower.

- He doesn't make you wait long, and he strips himself of his boxers and pants, planting himself above you and grinning at how you observe his body and movements, letting you gasp in surprise once he lets a shudder roll through and some red markings reveal themselves, cuffs and bands of red marks paired with inscriptions of languages so old they outdated writing itself. You trace a few as he undresses you, mouth over them lavishly and kiss them tenderly, trying to show and give all the love you can to make up for what he's missed.

- "Never going to let anyone touch you," he murmurs, breathless against your skin as if he's the one rendered weak before you, "only mine, m'all yours. Gonna' keep you safe and sound." AB's wrecked already and he's hardly touched you let alone himself, the evidence leaking and resting heavily upon your now bare thigh. You feel not just safe and content, but powerful and hungry, greedy for what lies within arms reach. You get granted a freedom in his presence finally, and you take every step in stride.

- "All mine," purrs your voice in his ear, tugging on auburn locks and feeling your body thrum like musical cords when he groans low and deep, reverberating from a barrel chest that covers your form, "going to make me feel good? Treat me right, make a mess of me? Show me just how much you actually care and that I'll always be yours? Go ahead, AB, give me your all."

- "All?" he growls darkly against the column of your throat, nearly snarling if it wasn't for the pleased smirk present with teeth with slight points, "oh dearest, ask for more, don't you know I'd give you everything?" he murmurs low stripping you fully bare and letting rough and calloused palms from another lifetime's work wander your body, mapping out your skin like a cartographer. At that moment the words were euphoric enough, but his hips grinding against yours until he slotted against your weeping cunt was the emphasis to your already wavering body, the final blow to your grip on reality. Oh, what a plunge it was.

- AB rocks against you, forehead knelt down against your collarbone in a piousness akin to prayer and nudges his swollen cock against your cunt, hips grinding once, twice, before he slides into you and fills you. It's a stretch that makes you cry out, nails embedded in his skin near his markings as you whimper and cry out his name. Your chest squirms and your hips remain stilled, his broad hands encompassing your hips as he does so. With his head against your shoulder, he gets to see himself disappear into your slick-soaked pussy, and the sight is too moving for his eyes to handle. Thumbs bruise your hipbones while he stills then asks you questions he repeats several times before you process them, already hazy and fucked out and he hadn't even actually fucked you yet.

- "May I move?" your body reacted before you could even form a response, legs shifting so you can take him in deeper and fuck up back onto him, nearly squealing out as you feel him absolutely stuff your cunt, walls clenching and sending the both of you into a hurried frenzy. "There's your answer." you bite, literally and figuratively as your teeth sink into his ear. His hips stutter and you smirk, so proud of yourself before locking your legs and rolling him beneath you, still seated on his cock but now residing on top, beaming down at him with your hands planted on his marked, hair-covered chest.

- You don't even warn him before you slam your hips down, relishing in how he jolts and buckles, eyes shutting then opening back up, so torn between the feel of you and how you look, an angel of his own making seated above him and using him like a throne, getting yourself off and being nothing short of resplendent. AB thrusts his hips up to meet your grinds and ministrations, one hand splayed across your ribcage while the other snakes down to rub at your clit, beaming with pride when he feels you shudder and falter.

- "You're so pretty." comes broken from the demon beneath you, reduced to merely a man with the way you use him, treat him, love him and fuck him all at once, centuries worth of longing packed away emerging forth into glacier eyes now as warm as spring skies, and the look he gives you sends you over the edge as a crushing blow. He catches you, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you as the orgasmic, earth-shattering waves take you under. He anchors you, falteringly weak thrusts getting him to where you are in seconds, cumming and stuffing you full with a cracking groan against your heated flesh.

- He holds you, sitting upright with his arms wound around your torso and holding tight, hands splayed across your back and side as your head nestles into the crook of his, nose at his pulse and smelling hints of rosemary and bergamot and ash, and you burrow closer, wanting to sink into him like bed, he's more comforting than down comforters and pillows anyhow. It takes a while before the witness behind your eyes fades, his humming being what plucks you forth from an orgasmic abyss and you smile against his skin, soaking up the silence and him breaking it.

- "About that contract-" you joke, and AB laughs breathlessly before turning to you with a devious smirk, hands wandering and eliciting a squeaking moan from your lips, "I think I'd be open to renogiation." he murmurs, breath fanning across your mouth before your lips meet his and he hums, licking into your mouth and staking claim to it just as he had you.

Magic Myc: Z O M B I E

• song: Under My Skin - Jukebox The Ghost

- You'd been there when Myc's dead body got carted in. There were more people making jokes, cruelly grateful for his absence compared to the small group that actually missed him, and mourned him. And you were one of the very few who loved him enough to grieve his loss in such a manner it would even overpower the longing of the moon should it ever lose the sun and stars.

- He wasn't everyone's taste, hell, he was barely your taste. But you still loved him anyway and trying to work, eat, and live without him got harder and harder since he got eradicated from your life as swiftly as one strikes down a cleaver against a cutting board, final, irreversible. Permanent.

- You had thankfully been granted leave, getting enough pitying looks to send you to the comforts of home only to realize that home made it worse. All his things were there, little knickknacks and gag gifts Myc had gathered over the years, polaroids taped to the walls with glimpses of misadventures. One that gutted you the most was a picture of you, Andre, and Myc, the two of you smiling wide while Myc lifted the two of you up for the picture, all flipping off the camera and laughing like hyenas.

- Andre had been a rock of support, the two of you leaning on each other to cope and work through the loss, not knowing how to handle the loss, Andre losing a best friend and you losing a lover. It crushed you, the chasm of grief and depression consuming you whole, entangling your ankles and dragging you down in the depths like being snared in a siren's trap.

- the point where you broke down wholly and entirely, letting out ugly cries with the snot and tear tracks, getting puffy with reddened eyes in the freedom of your home. A formerly shared home is now all yours. The brownstone mocked you, once an inviting and fun space now too bright and whimsical to be fitting for one mourning a lover. A friend. A soulmate.

- in the midst of your breakdown and rattling full-body tremors, you don't hear the back door locks slowly turn one by one, the keys only belonging to one person, long dead. You don't hear something entering your home and locking back up, in the perfectly redundant routine that belonged to an everyday pattern. You don't hear Myc return into your life because you're too busy crying about him leaving it.

- "I leave for five seconds and you've already gone batshit - damn and I thought I had problems" his voice startles you, making you nearly fall off of the couch when you whip your head around to stare at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief. "You're not real." is the first thing you utter, terrified to move in case the illusion your grief-wracked mind conjured would dissipate and vanish, leaving you alone in your loss and the empty house, pathetic and sad enough to best a wet kitten.

- "You'd think that, but here I am, alive and unwell." Myc responds, sarcasm prominent but still an underlying fond tone only belonging to him comes out. It's rougher, dirtier almost in a backroad gravel kind of way like his vocal cords got tossed through a concrete mixer. "Gonna' say hello or what?" he teases, gesturing with a tendril or two and extending them, wanting a hug from his favorite person. You practically leap over the back of the couch in an effort to reach him, launching yourself into his body and nestling your head on the underside of the mushroom cap, feeling fanning gills brush the top of your head in addition to the bulbous partial veil that glows and humms against your head.

- He still smells like earth and musk, pollen and petals. and weed, and you've never been more relieved to smell the absolutely pungent aroma of weed in your life, laughing while you cry into where his neck would be. "You think I would just ditch you? No way, stuck with me for the rest of your little life, shitheel." Myc mutters, bumping your nose tenderly with a blunt nudge of a tendril, making your nose scrunch and a smile appear on your puffy, crying face.

- "wait, how are you even here?" you ask, leaning your head back enough to look at him in the dim light of your home, shadows cast over his form and hiding the majority of it sans little segments and divots of bioluminescence and ornate patterns. "You died Myc, how in the fuck are you even alive?"

- he doesn't immediately answer, and you step back to pace with a hand running down your face, immediately ranting and getting wrapped up in the concept of Cognito Inc. doing another stupid and silly science project without considering ramifications and wondering just how this will blow up once more when it concerns the love of your life, Myc.

- when he's remained silent, not saying a word in the midst of your rant about Reagan and how she's got to stop playing god, you realize he hasn't said a word and turn to find him standing very still and looking down to his tentacles as if in deep thought. Worrying, consuming, deep thought.

- "I-," he starts, moving to turn in your direction, almost looking past you, or through you, making your anger fade as concern takes over, "I don't know."

- You haven't been this worried in a long, long time. "Honey, what do you mean you don't know?" Your concern multiplies, swarming nervous moths within the cage of a chest you have, fluttering in your ribcage and making your bones itch. "Myc, do you remember getting here?".

- the uncharacteristic silence speaks enough volumes to have filled a home library, making you send a few hurried texts to the gang group chat and ignoring the silly contact names in lieu of finding a solution to this as fast as possible and trying to keep Myc stable. You turn and flick a lamp on, unable to find reason in the darkness, and barely stop the scream that almost fled your throat.

- "I just wanted to see you, I don't know how I got here-" he pauses, unaware of the terror in your eyes and the tears welling along the seams of your lower lids, threatening to overflow with the sight of him, "I just wanted you."

- You wish you were crying for other reasons beyond the sight of him, maybe even some happy tears with how he came to you because he loves you, dragged his undead self all the way to your backdoor to you.

- You cry instead at the state of him, the chunks of flesh and tissue missing, the greenish ghastly hue to his surface, tears and gouges in places where his body's mass would fill. He is dead. undead technically, and in your shared home's living room sounding close to tears himself with how confused he sounds and you're just about to break down at how butchered he looks. He is yours, and he was supposed to be fine always. Why did this happen, and why to your Myc.

- He says your name, and it is so broken it doesn't suit him. Myc's a jovial, mocking asshole that makes you feel loved, even with pet names accompanied by curse words and expletives. You respond to a few more texts and enlist the help of Reagan and ask Andre and him to come immediately. You barely have the energy to continue standing, so you absolutely don't have the strength to deal with this alone.

- You gather him close, sitting the two of you down on the couch and just try and breathe, sit there with each other and pretend things will all be okay and wait in the meantime for Reagan and Andre to appear in order to get some ideas going on what to do or how to go about this entire situation, the others on standby and there for support should you need it. You've never been more thankful for the friends you have.

- "M'not going to leave you." Myc says, determination steady within his now weathered voice, as if it was skinned and tanned like an animal hide in the sun, "I don't wanna' go." Your hands grip him tighter as your fingertips trace over patterns and textures on his surface, humming a note against the light within his partial veil beneath the cap.

- "Nothing could take me from you, and I won't let anything take you from me either." is what you choose to comfort him with, knowing that humor was a strong suit and that comedy wasn't something to include just yet, reality to raw to disinfect with the sting of punchlines.

- Andre and Reagan soon arrive, disbelief covering their features the instant they enter the door and a litany of questions follow with Andre's tears as he and Myc hug, bubbly watery giggles erupting forth from both him and you at the relief. Reagan pokes and prods, then takes notes from what you could tell, and remains as confused as you are.

- after a while and many frustrating moments, the two leave back to their respective lives. Andre promises to come the next day and Reagan plans to run tests bright and early tomorrow. Nevertheless, the night is yours with him and the two of you alone. You try and make the best of it by familiarizing yourself with the way it felt to be enveloped with Myc, to feel those tendrils around your frame holding you close.

- and as with all things with Myc, it turned sexual suddenly and rapidly, making you appreciate his ease in removing you from a current situation with his attention, touch, and care. A gift tethered in mycelial networks and fungi.

- the two of you don't even make it to the bedroom, Myc being so eager to have you in any which way, he fucks you on the floor against the plush living room carpet, letting you know how thankful he is for your precious ass in his life (both literally and figuratively) as he fucks you to delirium.

- next thing you know, you have his voice in your ear while two tendrils splay your bare thighs open, tentacles notched in the crook of your knee and thigh as he pumps the tips of three appendages in and out of you, commenting and praising you for how slick you are and how welcoming your cunt is to him, like a homecoming once your greedy pussy sucks him in like even your spongy inner walls missed him.

- "god you're so fucking wet, all for me right? getting all gushy and messy for me only." his words hit just the right buttons, perched and murmured right beside your ear as he thrums, twisting the tips of his appendages within you and barely showing signs of him being affected. The two little tendrils that have collected droplets of slick tease and prod at your ass, occasionally breaching the tight ring of muscle and allowing Myc the pleasure of hearing that broken, higher pitched cry you moaned out with his name on your tongue, grinding into his ministrations and begging for more.

- "mhmm, all for you Mikey," you moan softly, brokenly, in a way so soft it competes against battered butterfly wings, "all yours, always yours, even m'pussy." He laughs, fucking you harder at that like a reward, groaning happily and letting the waves of pleasure spread rather than him holding back and halting his own enjoyment. Now he can fuck you.

- “damn fucking straight.” He curses, fucking you with earnest while he sits behind you, feeling flush and warm while he feels you tense and clench around him. Then follow suit once he breaches your ass, fucking into you shallowly and slowly there, easing himself in and loving the way your jaw falls slack and your hips seem to have a mind of their own. You prop your feet at an angle and use it to better fuck yourself on the makeshift cock and tendrils of Myc’s appendages, loving how you felt him in both holes and stuffed full, practically gushing around him and soaking the couch cushion beneath the two of you.

- good thing they’re washable.

-“all mine, always gonna’ be mine.” He mutters, movements stuttering as he nears orgasm but tries to hold out, “my baby gonna’ let me stuff them full? Until it leaks, hm?” You nod, voicing a yes against the skin of his closest to you and cry out once his tendrils brush at your cervix as you grind down and thrust back and forth against him.

- “please Myc, wanna’ cum, want your cum, want you to make me feel good.” You drawl in a plead, hands smoothing over him beneath you and sliding up and down his cock, reaching a hand to play with your clit until he smacks it away and replaces it with an appendage and shakily strokes and he gets closer to cumming. He shakes beneath you, Myc shuddering and stuttering once he voices his nearing euphoria.

- he cums, flooding your cunt and having it spill forth, pollock-like flecks of cum splattering your inner thighs and allowing you to slide better and take him in, cumming shortly after with a scream of his name and an orgasm that lasted nearly a solid minute, senses gone and world as white as fresh snowfall.

- there’s silence for a moment, your back resting against his front, tendrils not still inside you caressing and tending to your sweaty, tired body. “Hey, hon?” He draws you out of your reverie to turn to look at him, “pretty good for a dead man.”

- “fuck off, dear god.”

- Myc cackles and leans back into the couch cushions and pillows, and the joy that thrums in your heart soothes the ache of his death, loving him in any state, even when he’s being a little shit.

—Happy Halloween—

Tags: @cognitosclowns @radioactivebowtie @mollicutes @carnalcringe @bluebaronness @flyingspicerack

[prodsh00ky]

from the cradle to the grave

pairing: vampire!seonghwa x reader

warnings: use of words probably, crying, mentions of blood, death, war and violence, seonghwa creeps the reader out by breaking into their house, deja vu era seonghwa look combined with 2023 long haired hwa bc this should be a warning, some angsty stuff, fluff if u squint really really hard, past lives (sort of), reader is referred to using they/them pronouns but i might have left something that suggest they’re female/afab in the way; please let me know if there’s more

wc: ~4.6k words

notes: i tried to finish this in time for halloween (it was sitting in my drafts since 2021...) so this was supposed to be a spooky season fic. it didn’t work but here it is anyways! hope you guys like it. im a big vampire enthusiast and a bIG seonghwa enthusiast which makes me the biggest vamp!hwa agenda supporter so lets gooo

well, at least your gut feeling was probably right.

these last days have been… weird, to say the least. every time you’d go back to your apartment after college you felt like you were being observed, maybe even followed. it was like there was someone always behind you or around the place you were in a way that made you feel like you were never alone indeed, and you didn't like the shivers you got from it. to top it off, the whole thing was giving you even more bad nightmares than the usual; the most recent ones involved big mansions from the eighteenth century or something, a lot of fighting, blood and a pair of piercing eyes staring into your soul. the worst part was that you always forgot in the course of your day that you were having them, only remembering when waking up in a cold sweat from a new one. your friends told you it probably was due to the time of the year since spooky season just began, and you thought it might be it; a scary vibe was nothing less than expected from fall.

but the tall figure standing behind your favorite armchair that welcomed you home seconds ago after you locked your apartment’s door told you otherwise. you automatically move to grab your floor lamp to defend yourself.

“who are you and what are you doing here?” 

“so you’re feisty. i should keep track of that.”

his voice is deep but also smooth. he’s probably a head and a half taller than you and wears a white shirt with a v cut, black trousers paired with a black blazer and his neck is adorned with a sole silk ribbon. when he turns to you, you get to see that his long black hair would probably reach his silver pendant earrings if it wasn't tucked into a fancy hairstyle with a silver pin holding the front and that his eyes are sharp and piercing (and strangely similar with the ones in your recent nightmares, but this time they feel familiar and not frightening as usual), just as the rest of his facial features. he is probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. but you still have no idea of who he is or how he got inside your house, so you quietly get your phone and dial 911.

“i'm going to repeat it just once more. who are you, what are you and how the fuck have you gotten inside?” he seems too entertained eyeing you from head to toe for some seconds, but he quickly wakes from his apparent trance and answers you.

“right. i'm sorry for the rudeness... and for the invasion, for that matter, although this apartment was virtually 100% accessible for me. oh, and for the last few days too, but i'm afraid the observing was necessary. i’m park seonghwa, one of the royal eight, and deeply pleasured to know you.” he bows lightly and opens his mouth to continue and it shows you a glimpse of long sharp canine teeth. it makes you interrupt him.

“so you’re the one who’s following me? know what, it doesn’t matter actually, i’m calling the cops.” you turn to open the door and get outside, however the keys aren't in the door handle anymore. with the lamp still in your hold you try to open the knob forcefully, adrenaline beginning to fill you due to despair, but the jittery sound of the keys dangling makes you turn to the stranger once more. he holds the keys with his left hand, the right one leaning in the armchair.

“forgive me for my ways, but calling the police won’t be needed and after you listen to me you’ll see why. i’m not here to hurt you in any way, it’s actually… quite the opposite. i was following you because me and my brothers needed to reach you, and after i finally found you i wanted to know who we were looking for. if you’re willing to give me some of your time, i’ll be happy to explain everything i can for now. please?”

considering your options, either you jump out of the window into a 65 feet fall or listen to him. but you still want to be sure someone is keeping track of you, so you move to open the window hoping today the old couple and the friendly lady who lives in the building next to yours and are always inviting you to spend the holidays and have dinner with them are gaping inside your place as usual and turn on the localization device in your phone.

“you have ten minutes.”

“thank you for considering my offer.” he answers, seemingly more relieved, and starts talking. “i’m not sure how to address it correctly… there probably isn't a correct way to do it, so i’ll be plainspoken. i’m a vampire, such as my brothers, and we need your help because you hold powers that can save our empire from the mass attack it is suffering right now.”

you huff, because it’s the only thing you feel like doing.

“you really invaded my house to fool me into a halloween prank? who made you do it? oh, it must have been yeonjun and kai, right? i'm calling the bastards right now, this is way off limits.” you manage to grab your phone in your pocket again but, just like your keys, you see it appearing in the guy’s hands.

“it’s not a prank and your human friends have nothing to deal with it, swear with my long gone soul. i am indeed a vampire, as you can verify by my teeth. vampires exist, such as some other ‘magical creatures’, as your people like to call us. i’m park seonghwa, the second vampire emperor, or prince, whatever you’d prefer, and am here to plead for your help because my empire is perishing and the eight of us can’t do much without you.”

the serious way he’s speaking almost convinces you, but it still sounds so crazy and nonsensical you keep yourself skeptical. you can't avoid some classical questions, though.

“why aren’t you burning or shining in the sun, then? and i don't see you sweating due to the giant amount of garlic in my kitchen. there’s no proof to your allegations, fang boy.”

seonghwa finds it really hard to suppress a smile. you were much more fun (and cute) than he thought, and seeing you being so doubtful only added to the feeling he had.

“because not all the tales you humans like to tell about us are true. garlic does not affect vampires at all, i have no idea where this... thing came from. we only get paler in the sunlight, as you may perceive.” he moves closer to your window, and you can see his slightly tanned skin turning paler and paler until his veins start to become proeminent and dark blue in his skin. it’s almost as if he's like a living canvas full of paint.

“i don’t believe you.”

“do you expect me to prove my identity then? because the only way to do it is by feeding, and im afraid you’re the only human in the nearer 260 feet at least.'' he steps closer and while he’s talking you see his fangs getting longer. and sharper. he touches his pointer finger with his teeth and his skin rips easily as if a needle had been dragged along it. when you look into his eyes they’re rouge as… blood. fear creeps into you and you step back, moving your head no.

“y-you can go on! i will hear you, i p-promise. i'm not exactly doubting it anymore.” you say, voice weak with fear. you move to your couch slowly, eyes still fixated in his every move. “i-im going to sit because this doesn’t sound like a conversation i’ll be able to take in while standing. feel free to sit too.” he moves to sit in the same armchair he’s leaning, but you start to talk again before you forget and his eyes move up to you again. “oh, but i want my keys and phone. you’ll not be getting my help making it look like you want to keep me in captivity.”

he nods, putting your phone and keys in your center table. you grab them almost immediately murmuring “thanks” because well, look where you are. he nods again and waits until you stop moving to talk.

“i’m shall start from the beginning since you have no familiarity with the vampires situation, right?” you nod, asking yourself what a vampire situation would mean. “the… ‘magic’ realm, i’ll call it this way for now because it’s easier, is hidden from human eyes. we have our own rules that exist to ensure mainly two things: that we won’t reveal ourselves to you with ease and that we will have peace, or anything closest to it, within us. some centuries ago people lived in balance and each kind had their own inside rules and organization besides these two major ones, but a riot some of the folks started created chaos and eventually a war. it was a slaughter; many villages were destroyed and many creatures, killed. it’s one of the darkest chapters of our story.

“wait, what do you mean by ‘creatures’ and ‘folks’? you’re not saying…”

“witches, elves, mermaids and sirens, gnomes, fairies, fauns, they’re all real. at some level, at least. i say this due to the fact you humans love to fantasize about their characteristics way too much, as you could testify with me and the sun belief you had. the majority of things you assume you know about them or about ur are probably inaccurate.”

your frown, “and what is the truth about all of you, then? what is wrong in the things i’ve been taught?”

there’s hints of a smirk in his lips, but he tries his best to keep neutral. “curious, aren't’ we? i’d love to share it with you, but it’s best that you learn it by yourself.” your eyebrows raise and he gets the sign to keep talking. “we’ll get there, do not worry.”

he takes a deep breath, a shadow of something gray crossing his sharp features. “after the war finished, pretty much all that was left was chaos. in an effort to save the survivors, an assembly was arranged so we could fix new rules and try to establish things. it happens that the vampires were the race that had the fewest deaths and casualties during the war and managed to better organize ourselves for that to happen, so it was decided by majority that we would rule all races from then on.”

“holy crap-” you tap your mouth, using the best of your self control skills to not laugh in his face, “this sounds like a bad fantasy book or a fanfic i’d have read when i was twelve. how did you guys manage all the power? and you said majority, not unanimity. there was someone against it, i suppose.”

seonghwa allows himself to smile, happy to observe you notice things rather quickly. you try to suppress your own reaction; if he was already handsome poker faced, it felt like his smile alone could convince you about anything he was saying and more. “we accepted it, since it was what most wanted. some begged, even, at some point of the discussion. it was never easy, though. we have faults and committed many mistakes, some worse than others and some… unforgivable, if i’m being honest. but i assure we hardly did then out of personal selfishness, the weight of keeping things in place is always something that humbles us down. and yes, you assumed correctly, there were people against it.”

he pauses abruptly, looks at you and laughs quietly, which confuses you. the fact that his laughing warms you inside has nothing to do with it, you reassure yourself.

“what?”

“if you thought the previous facts i’ve told you sounded like a… fantasy book or so, you can’t wait for the next bit.” he tries to dwell his laughter down to answer you, but you can see he’s struggling. “guess who disagreed with us being in power?”

it takes you less than a millisecond to reply. “no shit it were the werewolves.”

he starts laughing again but freely, not trying to refrain himself, and this time you can’t control the shocked smile that creeps onto your face along with your eyes widening.

“jesus fuck, seonghwa-” you have to pause for a second to recompose yourself, because you started laughing too hard along with him without even realizing, “it was already hard to believe the whole vampire convo and all, now you’re saying that not only other species of magical creatures do exist but the rivalry between vampires and werewolves is real? how do you expect me not to think this is some sort of twilight remake?"

“oh, no, not that movie,” he says while trying to stop laughing, “i’ve never watched it but it has caused enough misunderstandings already about us.”

you eye him up and down, “have some respect, it’s a masterpiece! i’m sure you just have never watched it because you know you’ll get inferiority complex since you’ll never be edward cullen.”

“i’ll pretend i know what you’re talking about and agree.” you laugh but on your own this time, and he can’t avoid admiring the wrinkles in your face when you do it. “resuming, the werewolves were never exactly comfortable with the idea of us in power in the first place, but as i said it was what the majority wanted. it has been like this for over eight centuries, and everything was going peacefully until around the nineteenth century. the werewolves started a rebellion against our empire, and to do it joined forces with each and every wrongdoer in our realm. they managed to have each and every single creature that had committed horrendous crimes as their allies, which caught us by surprise. we’ve tried to talk to them in the beginning, but it didn't work; they started to kill vampires and pretty much everyone that agreed with our power. it has been like this since then, and we were succeeding in controlling the war until one century ago.”

“oh.” nice way to react, you think. but what would be a great reaction for a narnia x game of thrones crossover of sorts? “i’m… i’m sorry, i guess. i’m not sure how to properly react to all of this, and it’s harder to conceive it as true. and what does it all have to do with me? swear i’m trying not to be a jerk or so, but why are you telling me all of this? why did you come after me?”

seonghwa, once again, has to control a smile creeping in. “because you, y/n, might be the key to saving everything.”

your brain short circuits. “what?” you freeze, wanting to laugh in his face, but the serious and hopeful look he gives you indicates he’s telling the truth. then a detail, a tiny but important detail comes to your mind. “wait- how the fuck do you even know know my name? i haven’t said it to you until now, there’s pretty much no mail you could get that from and most of my friends call me by nicknames, how do you know it?”

despair flashes through his eyes, but it’s only for a second. “well, here's where things start getting… interesting. or complex. i know it might sound crazy but… there’s… you… you’re…”

its the first time he seems uncertain or insecure and maybe even afraid in his speech if you squint, but the next bit that comes out of his mouth makes everything really sound like a big joke.

“i’m afraid there’s no easy way to let you know this, so i’ll have to be straightforward. you’re a living amplifier to any type of supernatural being. this amplifying power is given to a human in earth as a blessing from whatever force that keeps the universe balanced from time to time, but there are always at least a few centuries that part the amplifiers’ births. the last amplifier was a friend, an ally of ours that helped - or rather lead us vampires to our victory and was the sole reason why i and pretty much all of the survivors are still alive. i know your name because it was one of the last words he said before passing after sacrificing so much to guarantee peace amongst supernatural folks. i’m here to ask or rather plead for your help, because although we have more resources and ways of fighting now we’re afraid that it might not be enough for the challenges we might face.”

you blink once. twice. then you sneer.

“you know, i was almost believing you. i’m ashamed to admit it, but it was almost getting to me. but after this i'm afraid i’ll have to call kai and yeonjun and tell them to stop fucking with me every halloween season because this is way off limits. you’re a great actor, though,”, you say, reaching for you phone, “i’m sure you’ll go the distance or so. your costume is very well made too, i have no idea who thought about the eye mechanism but is sure surpr-

he takes your hand with his extremely cold one before you reach your phone.

“please. me and my brothers don’t have much time to deal with your doubts properly, and i’m sorry about that, so i beg of you. it probably sounds way far from your human rationality, but have you never felt anything different? any other type or force or liveliness different from what others feel? have you never seen the way some people thrive when they’re by your side? how they go higher than they probably would if they weren’t close to you? how it’s so easy for your to really connect to the people you love and how pleased they seem to be to love you back? have you ever felt observed? have you never seen that there are beings trying to put their eyes on you all the time, specially in nightmares?”

you head starts to spin. yes. he actually had a point. your presence around people you liked seemed to bring them more joy and great opportunities for some unknown reason, and it has been this way since ever. your childhood nickname was “lucky” due to this; the games and toys were funnier and happier when you were around, even if one of your friends got hurt - it would be fine, after all, right? the foster home you grew up in started to receive more donations after you arrived, and your foster dads were able to house even more children. your presence became a must in problem solvings while you grew up, because, for some reason, the fact that you were there made it all calmer and somehow easier. your friends would get higher grades, nicer positions in the school teams, greater opportunities and happier memories if you were involved or cheering for them; you were a walking lucky charm all over your life. your parents, your foster siblings and the few real friends you have always said the love they feel towards you is different than any type of love they’ve ever experienced. kai and yeonjun even like to joke that you have some type of magic on your blood or something, because they feel that your friendship will undoubtedly last for the rest of your life, no room for doubt.

and the nightmares. they were way more intense and frequent when you were a child. creepy and lone places, destroyed cities, dark alleyways stained with blood, desolated ghost-like faces, cries of help you never knew whom they belonged to. but the worse ones were the ones that had eyes around aware of your every move no matter what you did. they were the ones that offered your nights of sleep no mercy and made you wake up crying hard and shaking up from despair for years. funnily enough, they always seem to happen again frequently each spooky season. 

“i-i suppose you’re right in some way, b-but-”

“have you had a time where you painted a lot? maybe when you were a kid?”

that’s what breaks you.

“h-how the fuck do you know this?”

his lips curve up, a sad smile reaching his eyes. “eden, the last amplifier, was a painter. probably one of the best ever seen in the whole world, if i have a say on that. an amplifier born will always have and nurture the last amplifier’s talents for at least some time, specially during their childhood. if you took on his talent, i bet your paintings were astonishing, even more for a child.”

your memories flash in front of your eyes: how many paintings have you made for your parents’ office? how many times did you spend your early sunday mornings painting in order to gift your siblings? how many of these were still with them, in their houses, becoming part of the scenery of their lives until nowadays? and why the fact you abruptly stopped doing them when you were nine or ten had never made sense until now?

“i’m- i’m sorry, but- this must be some type of misunderstanding or bad taste joke, that’s ithe only explanation, that's it-”

“as said before im deeply sorry that we don’t have more time to do this with ease but…”, he huffs, looking down and then to you again, “this is what will have you believing me. i’m really sorry.”

he stares into your eyes for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight seconds straight.

and then it all hits you.

flashes of some of the places you saw in your nightmares, but this time live, in person, because you were there; a giant castle with an art studio, your beloved art studio, where all your creativity flew through the canvases, where life seemed to make more sense. flashes of people you never met; unfamiliar smiles in their faces, but the lingering feeling there’s no physical building that could carry your conception of home more than they could; nights together singing by the moonlight, but also serious conversations and arguing and fighting but always making up because, in the end, they’re your family; war and horrible battles and you standing in all of them offering everything this force inside of you could because things had to end in peace; crying, seeing red and hearing their last words for you. darkness, solitude, happiness, yearning, melancholy, bliss, doubt, joy, frustration, hope, all types of feelings that weren’t and were yours at the same time.

you snap out of it with the feeling of seonghwa’s cold thumbs drying the tears you didn’t realize were streaming down your cheeks.

“i’m sorry this is so unfair to you,” he whispers, “i really wish this could happen naturally, without demanding so much of you and shattering the world you know with such violence, as it has always been with the others who got to know. im really sorry...”

for a while, you just allow him to hold your face and caress it, too overwhelmed by everything that’s flooding your brain. after what could be some seconds, minutes or even hours, you’re not sure at this point, you move away from his touch and he lets you go, something heavy in his eyes you are not able to decipher due to your state.

“you need time to digest it all, and you’ll have it. i’ll make sure that no nightmares or even visions plague your mind in the next days so you can rest. but i’ll have to come back in a week or two to ask you to come with me and help us if you’re willing to do it. i promise that i’ll answer any of your questions then and that more understanding of what you’re capable of will make it a bit easier. you can share all of this, but be sure to do it only with trusted ones and with as fewer people as possible.”

he gets up and turns to the door, but before heading in that direction seonghwa leaves a black business card in the table in front of you, just a single phone number written in red ink in it.

“if you need anything, do not hesitate to call this number and talk to me. i’ll do anything in my power to help you.”

he opens the door, turning to look at you for one last time. ”we’ll see each other again, y/n.”

seonghwa closes your apartment’s door and in a couple of minutes he’s walking in the street again. he takes his phone, dials a number he knows by heart and waits. the voice that answers him is curious, yet patient.

he huffs before replying, “as well as you would expect, hongjoong. they didn’t hit me with a broom or tried to shoo away with garlic, but also didn’t believe me until i forced them to see.”

“hey, are you fine? how did it go?”

“unfortunately. humans got way too used to believe we’re bedtime stories, specially in this century, so it wasn't something i didn't expect, but i-”

“so you did have to hypnotize them?”

“you’re not entirely comfortable with doing it too, i know. by the way, how did you feel? since it all probably got stronger, was it okay for you?”

seonghwa hesitates for a few seconds. “it was ecstatic, joong. i’m not sure i’m able to fully translate it into words. the more time I spent there and the more I understood about who they are now the more it became hard to let go. this is nothing like anything else that i ever felt, and it’s only the first time i saw them. i feel so goddamn lost but also as if i had finally found something very important inside me at the same time. i… have no idea of what to do.”

“no way. it was hard enough for them to believe the whole thing, it would be twice as hard if they knew- if i told them things probably would have been even harder. they’ll know when the right time comes.”

“maybe telling them, if you already didn’t?”

“sure, then. it’s your choice. are you already coming back?”

“yeah, i’ll call for the car in some minutes.”

“great. thanks, hwa. i know this was probably tough on you. come home safely.”

seonghwa replies with a hushed see you soon and hangs up. he knows his friend just wanted to be sure, but they knew each other well enough for hongjoong to presume nothing of the matter would have been said to you by seonghwa.

because how could he? right after stealing the truth you had been living until and shattering it into pieces? it sounded too cruel for him, he felt it in the moment he laid eyes on you today.

time would say when he’d tell you that besides your name, eden also said that the next amplifier would be his soulmate, and that this would allow to change things forever.

©prodsh00ky 2023. no crossposting or translations allowed.

[shamachan]

Hiiii! Could you possibly write some headcanons for Ren with an MC that's really into spooky things? (Step 1 - Step 2)

MC that's into spooky things × Renee Murray headcanons ꔛ

step 1.

if you meant me to write about both the 1 step and the 2 step - let me know! I'll write headcanons for the second step too.

amount of symbols: 2253± symbols.

enjoy!

— For starters, Ren didn’t care about it at all. Like, well, you into those creepy things, and so what?

— But when, due to the fact that he was your friend, he began to get involved in all sorts of "scary" things for children with you, he managed to privately regret it a little bit. Not because it's may be silly! But still...

— Do you want to summon some kind of spirit using a piece of paper and nettle?... Are you sure?... Nope, Ren is not afraid! Absolutely! He may move away a little, but he is not afraid!

— He won’t be afraid of any rustling in the room, or a draft - that’s for sure. He's just... A little tense, you know!

— When you most likely are not making much progress in this, Ren will relax only then. He'll say something like "I knew that!", but if it offends you, Ren will hesitantly apologize. After all you tried, right? That's the main thing!

— If you decide to watch scary movies with him, he won’t mind it. To some extent he is even interested.

— And then it depends on what you watch. If there is blood in this film, then after watching it Ren will say something like “ugh, that’s nasty!" and will tell you not to watch this with him again.

— If this movie is based more on spirits and evil, then he will be a little scared, but also quite excited about it. I guess he would even like it. However, after watching it, he will be a little nervous.

— if you suddenly sneak up behind him, or suddenly turn off the light in the room where he was, you will scare him. But Ren will pretend that this did not frighten him even one bit! And then he will be angry with you, although not really seriously.

— Oh, and well, if you want to go to some “scary” place, believe me, you may not be allowed. It's too dangerous! Who would have told you this if not adults? However, if it is not somewhere far in the forest or far from home, he will still go there with you. And maybe even further if you convince him, just shh...

— Despite the fact that Ren may look like he is displeased with your hobby, in fact he wants to support you in this. Though he is really scared sometimes!

— So where you go, he goes too. What is important to you is also important to him. If anything happens, Ren will even try to protect you. He's your friend, after all!

A/N: I hope it doesn't soo ooc coded swhwhhejeid (they suffer from some insecurities they're really sorry)

alright and that was really funny to write!!!

I was a child who often participated in things like this, and I felt so nostalgic while writing 😭😭😭

and also it's FUN to look for the last one header, I try to search for maybe something on the topic, and sometimes I just want to insert some meme here...

I MESSED UP WITH PRONOUNS I'M SOSOSOSO SORRY I'VE CORRECTED THIS BUT STILL.... if something wrong with the pronouns please let me know!!! I'll change them immediately !!!

[bigbabycry]

movie night - ethan landry

warnings: fluff, smut (gross), spooky movies?, Quinn lowkey cockblocking, mentions of alcohol.

pronouns: she/her

The group sat in the living room, trying to distract themselves from everything going on. Ethan sat beside y/n with his hand close to him. The girl beside him distracting him from the movie that was playing loudly, taking everyones focus... except ethan’s. he couldn’t help but stare in awe of the girls’ profile, everything about her seemingly perfect to him.

The group had been through many movies that night, the lot trying to stay awake and aware of their surroundings, not sure of what to expect to come. As a new horror movie played, lights out, you subconsciously shuffled closer to ethan’s side, unknowingly needing comfort from the intense scariness of the movies. Yes, you love them, but you have to admit, you’re not very good at handling scary situations. ironic, huh? ethan notices your closeness, and in his awkward ways, he managed to wrap an arm around you, wanting to give you some sort of reassurance. You look at him and give him an innocent smile, which he adored and returned a smile back. You would occasionally jump at a few scary parts, which ethan found cute, but made him feel hot and heavy. eventually, you find yourself on his lap, pulled in close to him to find extra comfort from the scares. The biggest scare of them all finally happened, and you pushed yourself back into Ethan’s chest, making him grunt as he felt your body pressed up against him so innocently intimate. of course, you know what you’re doing. When you first started your ascend towards the boy, all you really wanted was some security, but as you sat atop of him, you could suddenly feel everything. His semi-hard cock pressing onto your thigh, your back, or your ass. You enjoyed it. He hoped with everything he had that you haven’t noticed, and that it wasn’t obvious that he was turned on by your slight movements. Until you starting moving around in his lap, trying to get ‘comfortable’, which makes him grasp onto your hips to control you. Leaning into your ear, he lets out a heated sigh and whispers,

“Stop moving” he gruntles, afraid you would feel what you have done to him. 

you turn your face to him, feigning innocence as you knit your eyebrows together. “what’s wrong, are you uncomfortable? I can move.” You start your move to beside him, but he holds your hips tighter, reaching one hand to your thigh. These small interactions going unnoticed by the small group around them.

“You’re gonna make a fool out of me.” He manages to speak without whining into your ear as you turn to him again, your body ever so slightly grinding down on his hard.

Your eyes are dark as you watch him try to compose himself. His body heating up as his eyes drift to your chest, your breasts looking so full in the small tank top on your body. You quickly look around to the group, seeing Sam and Anika asleep on the floor together with a blanket wrapped around them. Mindy sat on a sofa all by herself, indulged in the movie. While Tara and Chad sat awkwardly together, watching the movie, Tara half asleep. You turn back to the boy who was breathing heavily behind you, smiling at him, and leaning your back against his chest again. Ethan tried to stop himself from thrusting his hips upwards for some sort of relief, but at last he couldn’t contain himself. Pushing his hips up, into your ass making you gasp loudly. Tara abruptly looks up at the sudden noise, Chad looking over her shoulder too. 

“Are you ok?” Tara asked, worried about her friend and the sudden noise she made.

You nod in embarrassment and lean forward with your hands rubbing your face, “I got scared.” You mumble, making Tara laugh at you and turn her attention back to the movie.

Chad of course saw the way his friends were sitting, and the flushed look on Ethan’s face as he watched to girl who sat on him. He shook his head, choosing to ignore you two.

You once again lean into Ethan and rock your hips, heat and wetness building inside. Before you can go any further, Ethan pulls a blanket on top of you two and reaches into your pants once you were hidden. You lean your head back as his other hand reaches to your mouth, muffling the sweet sounds that desperately wanted to come from your mouth. He rubs you through your underwear, making you push further into him which makes him thrust his hips again. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every small touch he makes, you want release from him. He descends his hand from your mouth to your breasts, massaging them with his large, warm hand. You continued to push your ass onto his hard-on, suddenly making Ethan feel like he could bust right there. He attaches his lips to your neck, sending shivers through your body, sucking lightly to please you. You still grind on him, his hand on your breast and clothed pussy. Before it all becomes too much, a knock at the door echoes through the hallway, causing Ethan to pull his hands and lips away from you. Everyone looks towards the door, mentally debating to open it. You look around the group, deciding that someone should at least look. So, you pull the blanket off of you and stand up, heading slowly towards the door. The scary movie playing in the background, adding tension to the situation. Ethan watches your scared figure ascend towards the door. You stand on your toes to look through the hole in the door, suddenly rolling your eyes when you see a familiar person standing on the other side. 

You step back from the door and swing it open, a very drunk Quinn stumbling into the apartment.

“Are you serious?” Chad groan, annoyed, slumping back in the sofa.

“don’t you have a key?” You ask the very intoxicated girl who stands smiling in front of you.

Quinn grabs your arms to keep her up, “Well, of course I do, but I lost it. Otherwise i wouldn’t be knocking, stupid.” You roll your eyes and bring the drunk girl into her bedroom, forcing her to lie on her bed. You look out and shoot Ethan an apologetic look, knowing how you left him, before closing the door to help Quinn. 

PART 2 

[seraphim-coinz]

heyy could I please request some cute fem ghost/haunted doll npts? Tysmm if so (о´∀`о)

— @https--jirai

Cute Fem Ghost/Haunted Doll SPNUT + G/L!

System Names: The Haunted Dollhouse. The Ghostly Dolls. The Eerie Toyshop. The Possessed Plushies. The Dolls With Trapped Souls. The Spooky Doll Collective.

Names: Dawn. Annabelle. Gladys. Carmilla. Carrie. Lillith. Poe. Raven. Spirit. Dollie. Madison. Molly. Luci. Wisp(era). Ruby. Eeria. Scarlet. Gwenivive. Moonie. Maria(nette). Haunt. Boo. Beau. Charlie. Charlott.

Pronouns: Do/Dolls. Cu/Cutes. Plush/Plushes. Gho/Ghosts. Haun/Haunts. Spook/Spooks. Sou/Souls. Toy/Toys. Eer/Eeeries. Dea/Dearie. Lolita/Lolitas. La/Laces. Frill/Frills. Lo/Loves. Scary/Scaries. Slee/Sleeps. Spi/Spiders. Trick/Tricks. Dea/Deads.

Usernames: hauntedcutie. dollhousehaunter. trickylildoll. cutedollmovinaround. boo-i-see-you. frillydolldress. ghostofadoll. ghostlyheart. lolitaghost.

Titles: [prn] who Haunts You. The [term] Possessing This Dolly. [prn] Wearing a Dead Doll's Dress. The Ghostliest. The One Who Honors You With [prns]'s Haunting. Boo, it's [prn]!

Genders: Ghostcutedimic. Floastgender. Phasmaeic. Dollanatomic. Zombidollic. Dollseri. Shapeshifterdollic. Ghostdollic. Ghostotic. Poltergeistlexic. Vitalssense. Hauntedhousething.

Labels: Transsexual Doll. Assigned Doll At Birth. Ghost Omninoun. Ghostperspesque. Espeon Transfeminine. Ghost Intersex. Assigned Ghost At Birth.

[james-spooky]

INTRO POST

I realised I never made an intro post so here I go:

I’m James! Or James-Spooky 🙂‍↕️ I’m 18 and use he/him pronouns. I have the displeasure of unfortunately being british but the plus side is living in one big tma reference. I post mainly magnus verse content here and I’m very active (probably too active) on Pinterest where you might’ve seen me before! I love making silly posts and memes for tma/gp 🙏 My ao3 is james_spooky if u want to indulge in my Malevatouille madness - I’ve been posting on Pinterest for 2 years and have become more active on tumblr this year :)

‎‧₊˚✧ Interests/Fandoms✧˚₊‧

tma/gp (ofc)

X-MEN !!!!!!!

malevolent

DERELICT POD 🙏 (GO LISTEN PLS)

the silt verses

fiction podcasts (esp horror)

9-1-1 + other procedural dramas

iwtv

the newsreader

lost

life is strange

hunger games + red queen 🙂‍↕️🤝

maurice obsession has never left

LORD OF THE RINGS (heavy)

musicals + starkid + theatre/improv (theatre kid here can u tell…)

mitski/searows/aurora/adrianne lenker 🫶

if the media is gay i will consume it

i wanna get into pixel art so bad but unfortunately i have minimal artistic skills or patience but we move 😶 i play the guitar sometimes 🥁

‎‧₊˚✧ Writing✧˚₊‧

I’ve written four books 🙂‍↕️🙏 planned like a billion (countless pinterest boards on my acc) I have like 6 active wips 😭 (☠️) Also writing a podcast which is really fun! I’ve thought about making writing posts etc. but also that’s scary lol 🥴 I might soon though!

Speaking of podcasts, I’m the admin/one of the editors of the podcast directory fandom wiki, a fandom wiki to navigate fiction podcasts! If you wanna easily find new podcasts to listen to give it a visit 😎😉 (Also admin of the Derelict Podcast Wiki 🙂‍↕️🫶)

‎‧₊˚✧ Tumblr✧˚₊‧

Ngl it’s mainly shitposts abt tma/gp 😭 Might have to expand my horizons… No I will never stop making those welcome back memes every week for tmagp 🙂‍↕️ (it’s a curse) I’m def gonna post more of my graphic designs for tma/my wips!

aaaaand I think that’s it hello people in my phone 🫵

[glam-pir]

- introduction to writeblr -

p e r s o n a l i n f o

hi !! i'm em, i'm 18, almost 19, and i use she/they pronouns. writing's always been part of my life, i've just never actually believed i could do it. so, here i am, yada yada yada more cheesy shit. anyways, i'm in college so my activity levels are all over the place, i'm hoping having a blog to even myself out and make myself stay consistent will actually work. i love all things dark, gloomy, scary, and puzzle-ey, which goes without saying that my hobbies follow the same tragectory. i've been playing piano since i was four years old and i love writing music, solving puzzles, writing and reading (goes without saying frankly).

a b o u t m y w r i t i n g

let’s get into it, shall we? i really like a blether, and by that i mean i’m indecisive beyond words. my most common genres in the overarching sense is urban fantasy combined with cosmic horror, and high fantasy. i love worldbuilding don’t come for me i’m sensitive.

but in terms of smaller little motifs and themes, i love delving into folklore (slavic and north african, gotta stick to my roots), low fantasy and surrealism, political intrigue, dark romanticism, gothic horror, monster girls, lesbians, a good ole butch/femme dynamic, dead people, ghosts, generational stories, and of course, anything you could listen to depeche mode while reading.

w i p i n f o

jesus it’s uh, um, it’s a mess in here, please ignore the state of my mind rn, all titles are subject to change, for now i'll be titling them by vibe and vibe alone, these will probably be their tags for the forseeable future, also they're all gay

no guts, all gory

a story of suspicious internships, monsterous girls, the desire for knowledge, dead people, things man was not mean to see, and lunch dates with your coworkers. [ low fantasy / surrealism / cosmic horror ]

baba yaga's moving castle

a story of matriarchies, political intrigue, slavic folklore. [ high fantasy / multiple povs ]

gas station prophecies

a story of gas station prophets, things in the fog, shadows in the woods, spooky towns and liminal spaces, odd summer vacations, and some very important realizations. [ low fantasy / surrealism / gothic horror / coming of age ]

saints of nothing at all

a story of secret societies that are worse than they seem, culty schools, ✨cunty✨outfits, mean girls, meaner lesbians, himbos, ballroom dancing, and just a little bit of a roll in the uncanny valley. [ surrealism / hauntings / gothic horror / academia ]

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

NCT Spooky Season [Day 1]

The Hill House

TW: Ghosts Genre: Romance Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 1.3K Prompt: Even in death, they did not part.

[NCT Masterlist] | [NCT Spooky Season Masterlist] | [Tomorrow] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: Spooky season is officially here! And since I skipped 20 days of NCT for Christmas last year, what the hell, why not do spooky season instead? Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

“Haven’t you guys heard of the ghosts of the house on the hill?” Mary’s voice had a telltale tone. She turns on the flashlight beneath her face and her friends gasp in surprise, two of them holding hands and the other rolling her eyes.

“Don’t be so scared, it’s just a story our parents tell us so we don’t play there, it’s dangerous!” Stacey grumbles.

“Whoa, what story are you talking about?” Mary huffs. “The one I know is so different. I heard they’re a husband and wife!”

“Ghosts are still scary!” Jesse shakes in his spot.

“No, no! We have to see them! They only come out on the full moon! What better than now in October?” The girl grins. Jesse sinks into his seat and Helena covers her eyes.

“No way! Too scary!”

“Let’s go!”

“No!”

~

“My mom is going to kill me,” Jesse holds the flashlight for Mary, who is now trying to pick the lock with a stick she found. Somehow Mary had convinced them all to go to the house on the hill but, shockingly, it didn’t look all that haunted. It just looked like a house. The walls were painted a soft blue with white trimmings, and the dark wood rooftop seemed to be the only thing that would make the home scary. Even the windows all had light curtains on the inside of them.

“Are you sure this place is haunted?” Helena asks.

“Yes, shh!” Mary waves them off. Helena and Stacey stood behind them, waiting with baited breath and soon the lock clicked.

“Got it!” Mary grins.

“Hello?” A voice speaks above them and the four children start screaming. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s wrong? No need to be afraid!” You bent down to their level. “It’s a bit early to be trick or treating,” you chuckled.

“We’re here to see the ghosts!” Mary exclaims and your eyes widen slightly before your face relaxes into laughter.

“Ghosts, huh? I can’t say I’ve met any since my husband and I have moved in here,” you looked behind you. “Say… did you want to have an investigation?” You nudged your head inside and the kids excitedly nodded. You stood up and opened the door wider so they could run in.

“Ghosts! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Mary sings. The house, surprisingly, didn’t look haunted at all. Maybe straight out of the past, but definitely not as scary as the adults put it.

“They’re not going to appear if you’re loud like that,” Stacey shakes her head. She looks into the old mirror for a while, watching her friends run around the foyer through it, but shakes her head after a while.

“Maybe they like to hide,” Helena looks under the table, picking up an old newspaper to look between them.

“Hey, where would you look for ghosts?” Jesse turns behind him toward the door, but you weren’t there anymore. A chill rushes down his spine and he runs to catch up with his friends. “I don’t like it here, let’s go!” He tries to tug Mary’s sleeve.

“It’s fine, stop being a baby!” She groans. The four stop in front of an office room, seeing a man seated at the desk. He looks up from his book and adjusts his glasses.

“Now what do we have here?” Jaehyun leans forward on his elbows and the children stay frozen in place. “My partner taking in strays again?” He says with a soft smile.

“Oh, don’t be like that, they’re investigating the ghosts in our house,” you said behind them. The kids turned quickly, with Jesse jumping in his shoes and grabbing onto Stacey.

“Let me go,” she shrugs him off.

“Ghosts? That’s not good, I wouldn’t want them in my home,” Jaehyun shakes his head, now standing at the other side of the kids. “Take your time, then, let me know if you find any,” he says.

“Yeah!” Mary pumps her fist in the air.

“Why I don’t I make you food while you investigate? All that running around is bound to make you all hungry,” you offered.

“Yes, please!” The four smiled.

~

The four stuck together in the home, looking through every nook and cranny and investigating anything that looked suspicious but, still, no ghosts. Maybe a couple of old pictures of you and your husband and a few keepsakes of yours but nothing to indicate ghosts, that’s for sure. And the house still didn’t look haunted either! All the wood was polished and the furniture dusted off, there was no way ghosts could live here at all.

“Golly…” Mary sighed at the dinner table, sadly biting into her sandwich. “No ghosts.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” you walked in with your husband and sat at the front of the table. He presses a quick kiss to your hand and a chorus of “Awws” and “Ewws” resounded. “Where did you hear of these ghosts anyway?”

“Our parents,” Stacey shrugs. “But I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Really?” Jaehyun sounded surprised.

“Nope,” Stacey shakes her head. “But these scaredy cats do,” she looks at her friends.

“Aren’t you going to eat too?” Helena asks quietly. You and Jaehyun look at each other and shake your heads.

“Oh, don’t worry about us, hon, we just ate before you came in,” you nodded. Yours and Jaehyun’s hands were folded on top of each other while the kids conversed. “Say, Mary,” you waited for the girl to look at you.

“Yeah?” She says with the sandwich in her mouth.

“How’s your grandpa?” You ask her, head resting on one hand.

“Grandpa Mark? Oh, he’s good,” she nods.

“And Jesse, how about your grandpa?” Jaehyun asks.

“Grandpa John or Grandpa Leery?” He asks.

“John.”

“I think he’s good, I haven’t visited in a while,” Jesse kicks his legs.

“Oh, and I know your grandmother’s business is doing well, right Helena?” You asked her next and she responded with an exaggerated nod.

“And how about your grandmother, Stacey, is she well?” Jaehyun asks. Stacey narrowed her glance and took a suspicious bite of her sandwich.

“Yeah… she’s fine,” she answers, somehow being the only one to catch onto whatever game you were playing. Then the chimes of a grandfather clock resounded.

“Oh, that late already?” You looked out with window. “You all should go home now, your parents will be worried,” you ushered them to the front door. “Thank you so much for visiting us,” you smiled.

“Yeah! It was really fun! Too bad there’s no ghosts though,” Mary kicks aside a branch on the porch.

“Do come visit again,” Jaehyun says behind you. 

“Aren’t you guys weirded out?” Stacey speaks so that only her friends can hear.

“I think they’re just really nice,” Helena responds.

“What do you mean? We never told them our names!” Stacey nearly shouts. Then they heard the door slam shut. And, out of pure curiosity, Jesse turns around and feels his heart freeze, and his gasp is what caused the other three to turn around.

Behind them, the house was in shambles. The roof had caved in and the windows were shattered, the door was even boarded shut with the words ‘Do Not Enter’ spray painted on it.

But, through the only intact window, they could see you and your husband inside, a fireplace glowed next to you both, and a muted song played while you both seemed to float around the foyer. You both caught their glance and raised a finger to your lips before a gust of wind rustled the tree's leaves over the window, blocking it from view and once it had settled, there was only a dark room inside.

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville 

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[eclipian]

Subnautica Members

pt: subnautica members

reminder beings will almost definitely not turn out exactly as described, and these can be edited and changed as needed.

Name || Pronouns || Identity || Species || Role(s) || Look info

Rea , Reaper , Rae , Grim , Reese , Cora , Nyx , Lola || It/Its , ve/vir , vae/vaem , xi/xir , xae/xyr , ze/hir , 🌊 , 🪸 , ❌ , 🔴 || genderless & orientationless. ocean xenos, especially scary ocean ones || reaper leviathan || protector , avenger || deeper red coloring, scar across the left eyes, and a few scattered on body, missing tooth or two.

Alma , Enid , Raven , Spirit , Phantom , Tarot , Ghoul || It/Its , Spooky/Spookys , Boo/Boos , Haunt/Haunts , Spi/Spirit , Ne/Nym , Co/Cos , 👻 , 💀 , 🔪 || ghost/ocean/dark/scary xenos , aroace || Ghost Levitation || average ghost Levitation but leans slightly darker in blue & purple hues. has a few dents and scars across the body

Caspian , Cordelia , Mar , Naia , Hai , Kai , Aqua , Coral , Kaia || It/Its , They/Them , Ey/Em , Thei/Theim , Mask/Masks , Caw/Caws , Be/Bim , Bi/Bir , Bey/Bem , 🌊 , 🌟 , 💚 ,💡|| round/green xenos & queer || Gasopod || mostly average gasopod, colors lean a bit more green and blue.

Iris , Naya , Leona , Lilah , Ines , Adiva , Jenni || Sie/Sier , She/Her , Shx/Hxr , Ae/Aer , Ce/Cir , E/Em , Fy/Fyr , Ne/Nym , 🌊 , 🌸 || soft xenos. fem agender aroace || Sea Emporer Leviathan || caretaker/giver || albino, is almost completely white with pink, purple and blue hues.

[wyrm-with-a-why]

A shoutout to all my fellow closeted baddies that have deal with their moms transphobic comments about random strangers while you sit there with your spooky pronouns so scary amirite

[zpl1nt3r3d-b0n3-zhardz]

hello !!! in the headspace, i am a ghost girl that lurks in sewers :3c ... would you be comfortable finding me some pronouns based on something like that ? thank you very, very, VERY much !!!!

- @sewer-embodiment

BAH. Oh em GEE ofc!!!! Yewr request iz sooo veri kewl! We wuld luv to dew it!

(Bah omg ofc! your request is so very cool! We would love to do it!)

Ghost/ghosts

Gheist/gheist

Geist/geists

Grrl/grrls

Ghostgurl/ghostgurls

Haunt/haunts

Haunte/haunteds

Haunter/haunters

Boo/boos

Eek!/eek!s

Spooky/spookys

Fear/fears

Scary/scarys

Scared/scareds

Lurk/lurks

Sewers/sewers

Echo/echos

Para/paras

Gho/ghos

Ghe/ghes

Paranormal/paranormals

Water/waters

Pool/pools

Dindgy/dindgys

Gross/gross

Ick/icks

Icky/ickys

Bleh/blehs

Shriek/shrieks

Scream/screams

Ghostly/ghostlys

We r sorri! This waz all we gots!!! If yew need more yew can always request agains!!

(We are sorry! This was all we gots! If you need more you can always request agains!)

[starlitrabbit]

♡ cutesy halloween id pack ;

for 🌸 anon!

♡ names ; ghoul, ghoulia¹, casper, morticia, lilith, luci(fer), raven, nyx, dracula, draculaura¹, agatha, belladonna, calypso, drusilla, lamia, crowley, emmet, luna, lumia, yami, willow, specterette, pumpkin, spookebelle

¹that is the name of a monster high character lol

♡ pronouns ; trick / treat, trick / tricks, treat / treats, spook / spooks, cute / cutes, ghoul / ghouls, haunt / haunts, skull / skulls, spi / der, boo / boos, bat / bats, web / webs, night / nights, candy / corn

♡ titles ; the one who ( comes out / wakes up / appears only ) on halloween, [prn] who loves to ( trick or treat / trick / treat ), [prn] spooky-cuteness, [prn] who loves to dress up, the one who lives in a haunted ( house / mansion ), the ( one / ghost / insert other noun here ) who haunts on halloween nights, the carved pumpkin, the jack-o-lantern, the one who flies on a broom, [prn] who loves scaring people, the one who's scary appearance has a cuteness to it

♡ labels ; hallowhoarder, hallowgender, hallopassic, costumic, halloweenthing, spookyplushic, ghostcute, dressupfluid, hallowcandyic, pumspicic,  starryghostic, hauntedfelisia, spookycatgender, spookyvampgender, spiaircea, cutefear, haunteddollboy, hauntzel, hallowdecoraesic, lexehalloweenic

[ PT: cutesy halloween id pack. names, pronouns, titles, labels. END PT. ]

[short-black-diamond]

I’m broken, but pretty. Who wants me?

I had this idea in my head for a while...i wanted to try this out with Izuku and Shoji! Also, izuku and shoji are both crushing on you! 

and i still love izuku, i just post him as an idiot, but i will make more fluff of him and you...someday

warnings: Izuku x reader x shoji - i guess, izuku messes up, Shoji falls first, but you fall harder in a heartbeat and Izuku can’t help but watch as he misses his chance of asking you out and faces the consequences.

Did i use pronouns? I don’t think so. 

Gender? Nope

Have fun reading!

...

you glared at the boy in front of you with a murderous glint in your eyes. Everything he did, whether he opened his mouth, looked around, or even breathed - you couldn’t stand it. 

Not because you hated Izuku. No. You’d never hate that sweet boy. If anything, you’d rip your heart out just to get his attention. But right now, he was talking to Todoroki about the progress he’d made in english. 

You were better than Todoroki in english, why didn’t Izuku ask you? Also, come to think of it, you never really had any proper interaction with the cutie you’ve gotten that stupid crush on. 

How come...? 

It is already the end of the first semester! Throughout the sports festival, or the camp incident- hell, even the kamino incident, you two had never actually time to chat with each other. but, you also thought that the greenette would purposely avoid you. that thought made your little, fragile heart of glass break.

...

With your quirk, diamond, which allowed you to form your being into a living weapon like Yaoyorozu, with spikes adorning your limbs, your skin to harden like Kirishima’s, or your voice to echoed when you crystallised your throat and screamed like Present Mic. 

When you used your quirk, nothing could break you. Todoroki’s fire or ice only made you stronger, with the extra sand you carried around, you managed to ‘heal’ your broken or injured places and even won against him when you sparred against the boy. 

But, the drawback was that you looked...spooky. 

Shoji respected you for not covering up the consequence of your quirk overuse on your face. To put it easily, your face...it was broken. 

Yep.

Your right eye had a crack coming out from your iris and it went across your whole face like a spider’s den, but, you didn’t cover up. 

You liked that you looked like that, even when you might look scary. well, it was the drawback of your quirk. You were happy that it didn’t hit one of the nerves in your right eye, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to see. 

Also, Shoji was your best friend, along with Koda and Tokoyami.

...

“Um...hey?“, a voice called, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your wide eyes searched for the voice, and you only had to look to the left, where Izuku fiddled with his hands, not looking at you. 

Is-is he? is he talking to me-

“You know...since we didn’t really talk that much together...I would like to get to know you better...! I mean, only if you want to, of course.“

Huh, he really is talking to me. 

“And what should we do together?“

He didn’t look prepared. At all.

“Oh-um, well, I-I don’t know! W-we could uh-“

“Fight.“

“H-huh?“

“Let’s fight, Midoriya.“

“You mean like, training?“

“Mhm.“

“O-oh, um, yeah. Yes! Sure!“

...

You were training for a few minutes now. Where was he? The ground was wet with your sweat and you had to change your training area because of that. Now, you were hardening yourself. In your heart, there was a crack. 

That crack resembled the hurt Izuku had given you. He didn’t even show up. Such a freak. You got angry and groaned, your skin shining beautifully in your skin colour, but as if it’s made out of glass. 

“Ah, didn’t he come?“, a familiar deep voice called, and you didn’t need to know who it was. You shook your head. “Nope, and I’m such a dumbass for falling for it. You have any idea ho to push off some steam, Shoji?“

You now turned around and looked at his big frame. hot. He looked to the side. “Let’s get out of here. You’ve been here long enough.”

You nodded. You didn’t want to be here anymore either. Just as you left the gym, Izuku came storming into the place him and you agreed to spar on. He was here-but where were you?

One look at his watch told him that he messed up; He was half an hour too late.

He groaned, hitting his head. Of course you’d leave! He’s so stupid for talking to All Might earlier! 

He still couldn’t help but blush. Thinking that you’d even agreed to hang out with somebody like him...wow.

He still thought that he was undeserving considering the shit he’s been through. However, he was a little more confident, but not when it came to you. 

You, who was so, so beautiful despite your broken face which you got from fighting numerous villains, and it just added to your beauty. 

You, who was on top of the class, helping dumber students like Kirishima, Denki, Mina and Sero to lift the weight off of Bakugo’s shoulder with just a nod- to which Bakugo was very thankful for. 

You, who was very good in any language, english being your easiest subject. Maybe he should’ve asked you on a study date like Shoto advised the hopeless romantic to do, but Izuku was a freak. Too scared to confess, pussying out every time when he got closer to you than ten feet.

you, who only hung around the calmest students, like Kida, Tokoyami, Jirou, and...Shoji. 

Now, Izuku didn’t have anything against the gentle giant, but he was jealous od Mezo for being able to talk to you so effortlessly. Whenever your cute laugh blossomed in his hearing area, he whipped his head to you with a smile, only for it to fall the second he saw the reason you were happy. 

Shoji was perfect, he thought. 

Shoji understood you. 

Shoji was a respectful man. 

Shoji was polite. 

Shoji had a cool quirk.

Shoji was nice.

Shoji wasn’t shy. Shoji wasn’t scared of speaking his mind. Shoji was funny.

In other words, Shoji was everything Izuku wasn’t.

The freckled boy shook his head, tears already forming in his eyes. Now, he ran back, his heart wanting to find you. 

...

“N-no...“

“Yes.“

You were laughing your ass off as Shoji told you an embarassing story of him trying to dance gangnam style on ‘just dance’ and how he felt like one of the dancers, saying that he was really feeling it, and he even made a short dance of hopping around and crossing his hands, singing ‘Opa gangnam style!’ right next to you.

Even though you two were in public and people were staring, you and Shoji couldn’t care less. It was nice to have Shoji as a friend. ouch

It was sunset now, and Shoji and you were on your way back to the dorms. He had his hands in his pockets, his bag resting behind him with one of his many arms holding it. You had your bag in front of you and holding it like a stereotypical anime girl.  

Your eyes were closed as you laughed, and Shoji watched you with a covered, fond smile. Then, when your laughter slowly died down, he looked to the ground again, taking deep breaths. Then, he stopped walking, and you took three steps forward, then you stopped too when he didn’t go. 

“Shoji...?“

“...“, he only looked to the side, as if contemplating on telling you something.

you snickered again. “What is it, Shoji?”, you asked, smiling at the boy with fondness written all over your face. He took one last deep breath before taking a step towards you. “well, I- woah!”, he said, falling onto his left knee, but balancing himself again. 

“Um, you okay?“

“Y-yeah, guess I just fell for you. That’s all.”, he chuckled, resting his arms on his right knee, looking up at you with cheeky anticipation. And hope.

You, were speechless for a moment. Did he just...confess? 

“I-you-huh?“, you only made out before Shoji sighed, taking both your hands caustiously and slowly, as if he was ready to let you go when you wanted to. 

“I fell in love with you, you know? You’re amazing. You’re-“

he kissed one of your hands through his clothed lips, and you still felt goosebumps traling up your arm and how it spreaded all over your body.

“-beautiful-“

another kiss towards your knuckles, 

“-strong-“

much more kisses now, going slowly up your arm, and you let him. you wanted this...somehow. sure, the six-armed handsome young man you had could be a little blunt, but you didn’t know about Shoji’s straightforwardness. you felt your face heating up with every kiss he took.

“-brave, sweet, nice, and kind-“

now, he was kissing your cheek. you held your breath, waiting for him to kiss you on the lips. 

“can I...kiss you?“, he murmured softly against your lips, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. and he had a finger hooked around the mask covering his lower face, slowly pulling it down. 

He wasn’t going to...take it off, right?

“Please,“, you moaned breathlessly against Shoji, and he really took off the mask. He smiled shyly up at you. you cupped his face, tracing your thumbs against his long lips. 

I wanna kiss you..., you thought. 

Then you blinked. Wait. what am I doing? I have a crush on-Izuku...yeah, no. Fuck him.

I...I want to kiss Shoji. ,embarassed about that thought, you looked at Shoji’s closed eyes as he let you look and touch at the rest of his face. you were proud of yourself for being such a good person that even Shoji decided to show his face to you. 

It was even a surprise at how much more beautiful the boy in front of you looked. He looked...complete.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined...”, muttered softly, trailing his lips and jaw. His breath hitched in his throat and his blissed out face got red. “What...what did you imagine me looking like without my mask on?”, he asked, eyeing you suspiciously, but you were too in trance at how pretty the boy you held looked like.

“Dunno, I already forgot...”, you trailed off as you inched closer to his face, slowly closing your eyes. He did the same and soon, your lips met perfectly. Slowly, as to not ruin the moment, you parted before kissing him again, and again and again. 

...

Izuku ran back to the dorms. He didn’t think that you might have grabbed a bite, because you always only brought some water with you and lunch. 

He still cursed himself for staying too late chatting away with his mentor, but then something caught the corner of his eye as he was about to reach the doorknob. 

He finally saw you, but what were you doing with Shoji? Why are your faces so close? 

Are you two...kissing?

...

...

..

..

.

.

Oh. 

Tears were now streaming freely from his face and he had to clench his teeth as to not let any sound escape from his mouth. He turned away and opened the door, and dashed into his room. 

Meanwhile, you were kissing the man kneeling in front of you with such a gentle way you’d sworn to only use on Izuku. But, guess you had a change of plans. (cue to me winking stupidly) 

After a while, you parted with ragged breaths and taking in the other person. you spoke first. 

“You really fell in love with me?“, you asked with a smile.

“Yes.“, he replied in a heartbeat.

“Well, shall we-“

“Dorm.“

“But-“

“Dorm.“

“Okay, let’s go.“

And finally, Shoji stood up from his knee and led you inside, but not before pulling his mask in its original place. One of his hands was resting on your lower back and another hand formed into a mouth, telling you to follow him, which you did.

You two ended up cuddling. Have some dignity you pervert. 

...

After some months of dating, you and Shoji were ready to tell the class.

“Aww, you guys are so cute together!“, Mina cooed, looking at you, who was holding one of Shoji’s arms, with a teary smile on her face.

Izuku didn’t smile. He only looked at you with a hollow expression, heavy eyebags and pale skin engraved themselves into the poor boy’s body. 

He sighed, looking at his notebook again. There was a drawing of you smiling, despite your broken face. 

Izuku thought you looked absolutely perfect.

[aesthetixhoe]

spooky flirting (2) — E.L.

warnings: cursing, messy roommate 🙄

word count: ---

pronouns used: she/her, reader has nice legs?

part 1 here !

1:38 pm

ethan <3

We still on for tonight?

you

ofc! just let me know when you're close so I can unlock my door! :)

2:03

ethan <3

Hey, I kinda forgot to text when I was close

So I'm kinda here already.

You jump up from your spot on your bed, excitement bubbling in your chest at the message. You quickly move to the door to your apartment so you don't leave Ethan outside for long.

He's standing out in the hall, biting the inside of his cheek out of nervousness.

You open your door and start talking. “Hey, sorry I took so long, I was in my room.” You move to the side for him to come in. When he didn't move to come in, you gave him a confused look.

Oh my god, she looks so good. Her legs look so nice. Fuck, ok stop staring.

“Uh, Ethan? You ok?” you ask, softly reaching for his arm. His face burns as he realizes he's been invited in and hasn't moved an inch.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just... Zoned out I guess.” He tries to brush off the pounding of his heart.

He finally steps forward, into your apartment. You close the door behind him. He looks around and takes in your combined living room and kitchen.

“Sorry, it's a little bit of a mess. My roommate refuses to clean up after herself... Thank god she's not here.” You explain slightly embarrassed, trying to quickly pick up quickly. “You can sit on the couch. Do you want something to drink. I figured we could order a pizza or some type of take out?”

“Uh... yeah, that sounds good.” He says softly.

So after two hours, a large pizza, and a really cheesy Netflix romance movie, you let out a sigh.

“Well that movie was shit.” You snicker, standing up to throw away your trash, offering to take Ethan's up too.

“Thanks. I didn't think it was that bad actually... Like obviously the part where she switches places with her husband is weird, but it was cute seeing how they both cared in the tiny ways.” He smiles.

“Wow, you are such a girl! Now, let's get to the real reason why you're here.” You say darkly as you sit back down.

“Which is...” Ethan doesn't know why, but for some reason the tone in your voice has him scared that you thought he was only here for sex or something.

“Scary movies! Duh. It's the whole reason why you're over.”

“Right, yeah! Uh... What do you like?” He asks, playing with his fingers.

“Are you nervous?” You interrogate, avoiding his question. “You play with your fingers when you're nervous.”

He looks up slowly. “You noticed?” No one ever noticed him, really. Not in the shadow of his older brother, then Chad at Blackmore. How could you of all people notice him?

“Of course I did. You did it all last night.” You chuckle. When you see his face fall a small bit you immediately backtrack, “Which isn't a bad thing! I'm glad you do it, it's nice when people have nonverbals so I know when they're upset. It makes communication easier.” You continue after a short pause, “So... What movie are we watching?”

“Um...I like everything really, so it's up to you.” He is so nervous, it pains you a little bit, but you decide to just pick Stab for simplicity's sake. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah! I love Stab.” He looks genuinely excited, which makes you breath a little lighter.

The movie is fine, but it's hard for you to focus when you start noticing him glancing at you continuously. You smile to yourself but don't bring it up, you actually kind of like it.

When the film gets to the scene where Sydney is being chased by ghostface in the school bathrooms, it startles you. Without thinking your hand shoots for something to hold on to and it reaches his thigh.

Once you realize you pull your hand back as fast as it arrived, “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I just got scared and wanted to hold something I guess and your leg was just right there.” You sigh trying to get the heat to leave your face.

“I didn't mind.”

“What?” Your head snaps towards him. For him being nervous about even talking to you, he's being awfully calm about your hand gripping his thigh.

“Yeah, if you wanna hold onto me that's fine. I don't get scared easily but if you do, you can hold me if it'll help.” He smiles softly, shooting his shot, praying you wouldn't be freaked out by his proposition.

When he felt your hand land on top of his, his heart stilled. Your eyes caught each other's for a brief moment before going back to the tv. His hands are so warm and surprisingly soft, this time it's you who can't focus on the movie.

“You're staring.” He states simply. When you snap out of it, he has a smile on his face, and his cheeks are slightly rosy.

“I'm sorry...” You whisper, not breaking eye contact.

“I don't mind.” He says for the second time that night. “You're looking at my lips too.”

Fuck, you were.

“You noticed.” Instead of feeling nervous or shy, he leans in closer. His breath smells like mint, and you could count the freckles on his face.

“Is this ok?” He asks, making sure he didn't overstep. You nod thoughtlessly. “Can I kiss you?” Another nod. “Words, [y/n].”

Jesus

“Please.” Your breathing is already heavy when his lips finally reach yours. A pang of disappointment hits your heart when you feel him let go of your hand, but it's resolved when that hand cups your cheek.

He pulls back and laughs lightly. “I can't believe you just kissed me.” His face changes from one of content to one of embarrassment when you realize your word choice. “Oh, no! I didn't mean it in a bad way.” You reach for his hand, “I just mean, you're normally so shy. I like this brave you.” You chuckle.

The smile returns to his face before he sees the end credits for the movie. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Only if you promise to kiss me again.” You smile.