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qingxin-dream · 9 months

Note

Scara relaxing on the couch with you<3 if u do NSFW having him cockwarm you so he can relax

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬”

summary | today was one of those days where nothing could go right. well, maybe, it’s been like that for awhile. and you know damn well that your loving husband was not about to watch you fall into despair. (art credits: unknown)

warnings | not proofread, reader has a mental breakdown, comfort, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, cockwarming, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, slightly possessive/dominant, marking, breeding kink, creampie

genre | modern au, comfort, smut

word count | 3k

pairing | husband! scaramouche x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sky had been overcast all day, only putting a damper on your mood. Work has somehow become extra stressful lately with more and more responsibilities piling up. You felt the crushing weight on your shoulders with each passing hour and you couldn’t wait for the clock to hit 5pm.

The last place you wanted to be was at work, away from home, and without your husband, Scaramouche. Even then, your relationship was getting to a point where it was nothing more than bitter roommates. He had missions to complete while you were obligated to work every day. Someone had to be the breadwinner, after all.

Sweet freedom washes over your exhausted body when it’s finally time to go home. You rush outside only to find that the clouds had turned a nasty gray color and wet droplets of rain dotted your suit jacket.

Great, you forgot an umbrella.

The rain was really picking up now, your clothes soaked and your hair flattening into drenched clumps. Running through the downpour, you had to make it another block to your car until you got stopped at an intersection—narrowly avoiding the wave of water a speeding car almost splashed onto you.

Once you practically leaped into your car for safety, the sense of stillness that suddenly permeated the air brought you back down to earth. You were more than overworked. You were burned out, with hot tears freely streaming down your face in a choked sob. Gripping the steering wheel, you slumped your forehead onto your knuckles, shoulders shaking as you cried out all the pressure you had bottled up inside. The rain beat against the windshield, drowning out your agony.

Once you managed to compose yourself with a few sad sniffles here and there, you turned the key in the ignition. Tonight you decided to forget about everything. No stress. No work. Not even a single load of laundry. You couldn’t muster the strength for anything other than some sort of self-care or self-indulgence.

When you walked through the door with an expression bordering on despair, Scaramouche knew you had a rough day. He frowned to himself. Frankly, the distance between you two was a sore spot for him as of late and he was expecting you to lock yourself in the bedroom.

At first, he had been stubborn about the tangible separation pushing you further and further away from him. Foolishly, Scaramouche had tried to drown himself in his busy work and missions, simply trying to ignore it. But after a while, he realized that this damned feeling of alienation and being constantly on edge like some old married couple was ridiculous.

That’s not who he married or the life he signed up for, and Scaramouche found himself determined to finally act like you both loved each other for once.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you from the couch. Looking down at his casual sweatpants and shirt, you wished you could’ve stripped down and lazed around on the couch this afternoon. Sleep was something you desperately needed. He offers a small olive branch with his softened tone of voice. “Why don’t you get changed and come sit with me? I missed you.”

You drew in a hesitant breath. Perhaps it was your way of attempting to decompress before answering your husband or you were unsure of his intentions. The couch was definitely calling to you, and the prospect of your lover’s comforting arms enveloping you was even more tempting. In a haste, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag, nodding with a bit of a pitiful pout on your lips as you went into the bedroom.

Scaramouche perked up slightly upon hearing your return, making room for you on the couch so that he could spoon you just right. As you sat down, his hand immediately went to your hip and he found himself gravitating toward the comforting crevice of your neck. Your skin was colder than he expected from the rain but he was more than willing to share his warmth with you, his fingers venturing up the contour of your waist under your baggy shirt.

“There’s goosebumps on your skin,” he noted with an obvious smile in his voice. “Why don’t you take this off and let me warm you up, hm?”

You gaze at him over your shoulder, catching the subtle seductive intonation of his offer. Despite his pads of his fingers gently caressing and massaging your hip in encouragement, you weren’t entirely sure if you had it in you for too much physical affection. Most of all, you just felt tired.

Yet, Scaramouche always got his way. Maybe it was how the words rolled off his tongue that sparked your imagination in the back of your mind, or that mischievous gleam of excitement in his violet eyes. He had no problem catering to your needs, helping you slowly lift that baggy shirt over your shoulders and tossing it aside. He quickly did the same.

Suddenly, he ensnared you in his arms, burying his nose in your neck and sighing. The feeling of your back pressed against his bare, muscular chest was like a balm soothing his soul. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, surprised by his enthusiasm, and pull a heavy blanket over you both.

“Better get rid of these too,” Scaramouche suggested softly into the shell of your ear, tugging at the elastic waistband of your shorts. He generously nuzzled your neck, peppering a few kisses across your sensitive skin to distract you as he easily slipped you out of your bottoms.

Your whimpers were buried in your throat. You purposely tried to stifle it, but the little shiver of your neck and body against his ministrations couldn’t hide your true feelings forever. The slow drag of his hand up your plush thighs, over the round of your hip, and dangerously close to your breasts was merely a confirmation of your suspicions.

“Scara… please,” you murmur, sounding more like a faint plea for peace and relaxation. “My feet hurt so much. I don’t think I can move anymore, let alone do—”

“Shhh, love, you really think I’m going to make you do anything?” he asks rhetorically, the timbre of his sweet words deepening to a level bordering on husky. His hand travels back down the curves of your body with silent reverence, hoping to ease your worries. “I don’t think you realize how hard you’ve been working until it breaks you.”

With a click of his tongue, your husband continues to let his hand journey over every inch of your lovely form. Your breasts, your stomach, your pelvis, hips, thighs… If he was being honest, Scaramouche would never have thought he’d discover someone as perfectly imperfect as you. To not remind you of how much he secretly worships your whole being would be a grave sin in his eyes.

“I feel like I never see you anymore. We never talk anymore,” he mumbles into your shoulder blade, taking his time to kiss and nibble as much of your upper back as he could. You involuntarily arched your back, the sensation of his mouth along your spine sending pulses of electric desire through you. His voice shifts into a possessive growl. “And I miss my wife.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you weep dryly, rolling your head back to relax on him fully. Your thoughts instantly short-circuited at the revelation of his thick bulge pressing into the plush of your ass, tactically held in place by his fingertips digging into your love handle. You were so ready to just melt into him completely, to give in and let him take care of you.

“Don’t ask for my forgiveness,” he quickly interjected to correct you. You could feel the smirk spreading on his face as he leans into you as much as possible. The back of his hand ghosts your inner thigh, nudging it to the side. “Show me how much you want my mercy.”

You were hanging on every syllable that left his lips in a hushed whisper. A featherlight touch grazed near your outer labia, enough to capture your attention like a moth to a flame. That was all it took for him to push your mind over the edge. It was pathetic, really, how you were desperately trying to mentally fill in the blanks and imagine the pleasure of his slender fingers massaging your needy clit.

Scaramouche knew exactly what he was doing. He loved getting a rise out of you. Admiring the subtle contortion of your features in pleasure may be his favorite pastime. Tickling the insides of your thighs and skirting skillfully around the one place you wanted him most, he scoffed in amusement every time you sighed softly in frustration.

“I thought you were going to be nice,” you groaned impatiently, beginning to lazily roll your hips in rhythm with the intermittent brush of his fingers just shy of your cunt.

“I am,” he snickered into your collarbone, his hot breath pouring down your chest and thrilling your skin. “You can’t lie to me. I know you like when I tease you until you’re begging for me to stuff you to the brim.”

Taking your lower lip between your teeth, you managed to defiantly buck your hips forward and finally feel the tantalizing glide of his index and middle fingers between your slick folds. The sweet victory ripped a lewd moan of your lover’s name from your pretty throat. To say you were utterly addicted to the sound of him parting the lips of your glistening pussy might be an understatement.

“Tsk, tsk, good things come to those who wait. Isn’t that what you humans say?” Scaramouche mocks you lightheartedly, though his fingers don’t leave your clit. Rather, he circles the sensitive nub at a tantalizingly slow pace to earn another cock-twitching moan from your angelic mouth. “I could touch you like this all night… unless you’d rather serve your punishment on my cock instead?”

You were too preoccupied with the intoxicating pleasure concentrated on your aching clit, eyelashes resting on your cheeks and jaw slightly agape. Scaramouche chuckled deeply into your ear with satisfaction, returning his lips to your neck but this time with a little more force. His teeth sunk into you, intent on leaving a good bruise.

It would be a clear reminder in the morning of who you belong to.

He sucked a little harder, causing you to yelp in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. His words were muffled against your skin with a gentle scolding. “I asked you a question.”

“C-cock, please,” you nearly choke, starting to grind sloppily onto his hand for some sense of relief. His other arm underneath you tightened, essentially pinning you to the heat radiating from his body from behind.

“Whose cock?” Scaramouche grumbled jealously at your vague plea. He needed to know that you didn’t just want anyone’s cock to fill up your drenched, gummy hole. The intensity of his violet irises demanded an answer, glued to your blissed out and desperate expression. His fingers were hastily stimulating your clit as he intently watched you parse love and lust on the brink of an orgasm.

“Y-your cock! Please! I need it so bad,” you cried out loudly, the threat of tears lingering behind your eyes. He abruptly slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans, and then shoved his hot, veiny cock pulsating with desire across your soaking wet entrance.

Scaramouche couldn’t stop the salacious groans under his breath, wanting you to hear all the ways you make him unravel. He was eager to drag the mushroomed, pink tip of his cock over your clit over and over, occasionally teasing your hole with the pressure of his length trying to nestle itself within you. But he never pushed it all in. Instead, he continued to gather your essence on his cock—the mere thought of cumming in your rosy folds like this and fucking it messily drove him wild.

“Don’t tell me… hnnnghh… that this is all you want, (Y/N),” he grunted with honeyed pleasure, grinding at a little faster rhythm. You were already nearing your climax again, whispering prayers and praises under your breath for Scaramouche to plunge into you and fuck you senseless.

His hand was still tightly covering your mouth, so you simply shake your head and moan breathily to ask for more.

“Mm, good girl,” he mumbles intimately, kissing your ear and nuzzling you affectionately again. “I know my baby is tired and needy, so I’ll let you be my little cocksleeve tonight, okay?”

You nod and hum against his hand enthusiastically.

He takes the opportunity to shower you with a few more kisses, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance once more. Your walls were already squeezing eagerly on the small inch of his tip inside you and he didn’t dare delay any longer. Scaramouche grabs you by the hip and buries the entirety of his thick cock in your slick tightness, his eyebrows crinkling at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him like a vice.

“F-fuck!” Scaramouche curses sharply, bottoming out completely in your aroused cunt. “So good. S-so fucking good, yeah…”

“A-ah, yes! Mm…” you sighed raggedly with ecstasy, pure pleasure and relief washing over you. His huge cock was stretching you perfectly, the lips of your pussy sucking him in at every possible chance. Despite your exhaustion, your husband had wound you up so much that you begged for tiniest semblance of a thrust into your sopping hole. “Oh my god, p-please, fuck me.”

Without warning, you decided to selfishly fuck yourself on his throbbing cock, but Scaramouche instantly snatched your throat. He held you tightly against his pecs and craned your neck with a forceful grip so that you were facing the ceiling, your oxygen partially cut off. The submissive position had your spongy walls dilating in excitement.

“No, no, wait,” he chastised you, his voice cracking slightly at the end as he struggled to adjust to your greedy cunt. “N-Need I remind you, love? Good things come to those who wait; and if you’re lucky, I’ll cum in you.”

He couldn’t believe your pussy was still quaking around his girth, releasing your neck as you nodded obediently. Once he pulled you into him tightly with his strong arms around your stomach, Scaramouche nudged your legs closed so that you could completely envelope his cock. It was incredibly hot every time he shifted to get more comfortable and your walls only swallowed him further. His breathing calmed slightly, wanting to relax with you for the rest of the night deep within your cunt.

“I-It feels too good, Scara,” you whined, cuddling into the pillow on the couch and clutching the warm blanket to your chest.

For the love of Celestia, your body was so exhausted from work but at the same time you wished you had the strength to fuck him like crazy. You made a mental note to wake him up tomorrow morning with the feeling of your folds lubricating his hardened cock, sinking completely onto his impressive length when his pretty indigo eyes sleepily opened for the first time. You’d make sure to hush him and keep his sleeping mask on snugly, fucking him to your heart’s content.

But for now, your husband returned to worshipping the expanse of your soft curves, coaxing you to relax despite the occasional twitch of his cock inside you. Scaramouche’s voice was smooth as silk when he whispered into the crook of your neck, “See? That wasn’t so bad now. Why don’t you turn on your show and I’ll keep this pretty pussy of yours company for as long as you need, hm?”

You both melted into each other’s embrace, connected in every way imaginable for the first time in a long time. The sensation of your lover’s cock nestling into your folds slowly nudged your sweet spot, drawing breathy moans out of you. He thrusted slowly but deeply, marveling at the lust clouding your eyes pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Though Scaramouche was enraptured by the heavenly sound of your pussy slurping his cock, the need burning in his core was beginning to overtake him. “Mm, turn around for me, babe.”

He was gentle and attentive to you as he helped you face him, holding you firmly against his chest and quickly ensuring his cock didn’t leave your cunt for too long. As he stuffed you full, his mouth captured yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers dug into your hair, keeping your lips planted on his as you lazily swirled your tongue on his own and moaned his name.

“Nnghh, can’t take it anymore,” Scaramouche growled hungrily into your mouth, lifting your leg slightly to support you so he could delve his cock deeper. His tone trailed off in a quiet beg, “Lemme breed you, (Y/N). Please…”

“Mhmm,” you agreed without hesitation, cupping your lover’s cheek and kissing him with growing reckless abandon.

He was unequivocally smitten by your ardent claim to his lips, groaning lewdly into the kiss as he began to fuck your desperately pulsating pussy. His grip on you tightened, focusing solely on ravaging your walls until you were on the verge of screaming his praise.

“Hah, that’s it. Goddamn it, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he takes your lower lip between his teeth roughly, plunging ruthlessly and chasing his impending orgasm. “You can take it, you can take it, yeah… you better fucking cum all over me or else, I swear…”

You reeled him in with a firm tug of his dark purple locks, nearly crying in pleasure onto his tongue intermingling with yours. Moaning and whimpering like a whore, you clutched onto your lover like your life depended on it. “O-Oh my god, Scara, shit, I’m cumming! I’m… mmph, f-fucking c-cumming…!”

Scaramouche pounded his cock into your sopping release, a guttural groan escaping him as he generously coated your spasming walls with loads of his hot seed. He kept himself buried in your cum-laden folds, your erotic juices mixing around the base of his cock while he kissed you softly.

“God… you have no idea how much I missed you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

#thank you for the request anon! :)#i could really use a night like this omg i got a little carried away hehe😩#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fatui #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut

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suiana · 1 year

Text

✎ yandere! artist headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― obsessiveness, slight nsfw, etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

‎

✎ yandere! artist who is the school's best artist, winning art competitions left and right as if they were nothing to him.

✎ yandere! artist who at first ignores you because you didn't stand out to him.

✎ yandere! artist who suddenly faces a massive art block and cannot find it in himself to draw anything until you carelessly intrude into the art room that the school gifted to him and asked him whether the drawings in the room all belonged to him. he was so shocked that all he could muster was a tiny yes.

✎ yandere! artist who becomes so inspired by you that his art block is no more and he comes up with yet another masterpiece.

✎ yandere! artist who thanks you unwillingly for motivating him while you just laugh and ask him what you even did.

✎ yandere! artist who is offended that you forgot you intruded into his personal art space and starts insulting you with the tiniest hint of a blush on his cheeks. he's just a lil bit of a tsundere, just a lil.

✎ yandere! artist who becomes infatuated with you after you stand up to him and insult him back. he can't believe that there was such a person that would dare to talk back to the school's pride and joy!

✎ yandere! artist who starts to unconsciously draw you every time he picks up his pencil, decorating his notes and homework with beautifully sketched doodles of you and only you, becoming flustered as he realises what he did.

✎ yandere! artist who swallows his pride and gifts you a watercolour painting for valentine's day with a heavy blush on his cheeks, heart rate picking up as his hands graze yours, anxiously awaiting your reaction.

✎ yandere! artist who has his heart shattered into pieces as you address him as just a cool art guy. well, to be fair he didn't really talk to you that much but still! why won't you think of him as much as he thinks of you?!

✎ yandere! artist who starts talking and interacting with you more in an attempt to get you to fall for him, constantly gifting you with doodles of you and him in hopes that you will be more endeared by him.

✎ yandere! artist who becomes more and more infatuated as the two of you grow closer, occasionally taking pictures of you when you sleep in class and storing it in a secret folder dedicated to you. he can't help it, you're just too cute!

✎ yandere! artist who starts to solely paint, draw and even sculpt you, entering these pieces into competitions and obviously winning first place in all of them. sometimes even going as far as drawing you under him in sexual positions, later to be used as material to relieve him. his talent for art is just simply unmatched!

✎ yandere! artist who answers the reporters instantly whenever they ask who or where his main source of inspiration comes from.

✎ yandere! artist who waits for you to confess to him, unable to accept no as an answer. he'll play the waiting game, just don't make him wait too long, he'll get impatient and might do something you won't like.

✎ "my muse, do you like this drawing I made for you?"

#yandere x reader #yandere #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere artist #yandere drabbles #yandere drabble #male yandere x reader #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons

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cringequeenwrites · 5 months

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hi <3 id like to request larry johnson smut. i have this idea of just like laying around being lazy with him, talking about his art, music, maybe even smoking a little. as he’s comfortably rambling with you, he keeps trailing off getting distracted by looking at you. he starts grabbing at your thighs (super obsessed with them) and listing off phrases of adoration about you. just overall super lovey, entranced by you, almost can’t help himself but just being all over you. just some guilty pleasure lazy lovey smut plss 😭😭

Sorry for taking so long I was in art block for a hot minute, long intro,fluff,love making smut >>

•oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO*•oO*•o

The Artist’s muse

Art credit: @deordah on instagram

You woke up begrudgingly to the buzz on your phone. The rectangular light emitted shadowed your bewildered, but sleepy features as you grasp your phone with your eyes still closed. Once you could lift the weight of your eyelids you could just see a text from your boyfriend.

‘Come to my room, I need your help.’

You muster a groan before slugging off the bed before putting on some more appropriate pjs to where before sliding on some fluffy slippers and exiting your apartment to trudge into his. Times like this you feel grateful that you live in the same complex as your lover.

The elevator shuddered and reeked of cigarettes and mildew finally stopped and you exited. Softly opening is shared apt door to not wake his mom up with the spare key she gave you a couple months back. In her words Larry made too much noise trying to sneak you in himself than you actually coming normally.

You lock the door behind you and shuffle to his bedroom. The deafening silence of your slippers and his music looming vibrations into the thin wall made you feel almost invisible like a ghost. The familiar smell of burning marijuana and incense filled your nose.

You open his door and slide in to close it behind you. He hadn’t notice your presence yet. You spotted his figure behind a canvas atop of his big easily that also blocked the door way. Most likely the cause of him not noticing you come in. His vinyl player playing a more low and somber tone in contrast of the typical metallic death metal.

You scooted to the side, he still doesn’t notice you. But now you see he’s hyper-focused and high painting something. You see the shapes and color of a figure but you can’t tell what it is yet. You see him put down his paint brush with his brows furrowed as he takes another hit from his blunt, reaching for his phone.

‘Hurry up’

‘I’m right next to you dumby.’

You waited for text to deliver, to ping his phone, and to fully read your one sentence before lifting his head up like a barn owl. You see him jump in his stool and almost fall back. “Jesus fuck, sals a bad influence on you, you know that?” You chuckle at his response and move closer, hugging his tall frame as an apology. “What did you need help with larva.” Larva was the nick name you gave him because you grimaced every time you used larr-bear. Larva being way cuter you argued. You boyfriend who had mixed feelings about being compared to a worm, got back to what he wanted to say.

“I need you to pose for me, I wanna paint ya.”

You paused and looked at him, looking in his features to decipher if he was messing with you or not. His eyes stared back at yours with honesty and the white of his eyes a more pink from weed.

He then wrapped his arms around you to pick you up. You wide eyed and flattered at first, now flustered and in the air. “How bout,no..actually hold on.” He muttered before he flopped you on the bed with heist as he rearranges the position of his easel. You were torn with emotion. Flattered that your boyfriend wanted to paint you, but tired because it’s almost two and half in the morning.

You steal the neglected blunt off his nightstand as he fumbled with his pants. Still lit and burning you inhale while just accepting what’s happing. Still half asleep as you stare off into space. “You’re so pretty you know that?” His voice dipping an octave with his brush against the canvas. “I’m tired.” You almost whispered, even talking normally felt like too much work right now. “I mean it, you’re so fucking beautiful.” You say nothing unintentionally,zoned out from sleep deprivation and the slow high as you inhaled the blunt with your lips touching the rolled up paper.

You’re unsure how much time has passed. Your mind brought back to Larry when you no longer hear the brush strokes and music from the player suddenly click off. You observe him turn of the lights, but still seeing his silhouette shuffle toward you. Climbing in the bed quietly, the light of your blunt being the only light emitting from the room.

He sits closer to you,not saying a word, but you can tell what he is doing. You give him the blunt, he cranes his head. you cup his cheek with your free hand and place the joint to his lips with your other hand. You two shared the dwindling blunt until it was just bits of burnt paper. Breathing smoke from his mouth into yours, feeling as if you’re sucking his soul.

“I love you.” He said. His head coming to rest on your shoulder as you put your hands around his neck. “I love you too, don’t ever wake me up this late again.” You hear his sudden chuckle, feeling his dopey smile on your skin. “I’m sorry, just miss you.” He continued. Pulling down your pj pants with your underwear. “You see me everyday.” You entertained him as you pulled his shirt off. “I know.” He huffed. Taking off your shirt he gave you years ago.

“I just want you here, I want your heart.. Your attention, I wanted to hear your voice. I don’t know how to put it. I even miss the smell of your clothes.”

He uttered through whispers. Shuffling his pants off to kick them away. Kissing the shell of your ear down to your neck. Hands on your waist as his legs intertwined with yours.

“I need you.”

He grabbed the lube from that laid on the covers from a couple nights before. Pouring a generous amount on his shaft. You lock his waist between you with your legs. He rubbed his cock between your folds,heat already emitting from the both of you. The squelching sound made by your mixture of slick and lube coating your lips as his tip plays with your sensitive clit. You let out a shuddered whimper from the teasing, earning a chuckle from the man above you. He then inserted the head in, pausing to give you time to adjust before sinking his length in. His thickness was something you never got used to, no matter how many times you two were together. He bottomed out with a huff. Pausing again to give you time to adjust. You ran your hands through his hair to signal him to go. He slowly thrusted but thoroughly pressed into your core when he made contact. Now spouting endless praise and encouragement to you. “You so fucking hot, fuck, your pussy is so good I could fuck you forever. Your noises are so fucking cute too. I love you so much baby you don’t even know.” He sped up to where you could hear the plaps and squelching of your skin together. Inching closer and closer before you were about to climax. “Larry I’m close-“ you could only warn too soon before you felt your legs spasm and shake as you gush around his cock. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he chased his high, thrust coming to a sloppy rhythm as he pumped his cum I side you, filling your pussy until it was spilling out as he pulled out.

“We can clean up tomorrow morning.” He exhaled, still lying on top of you as he drew the blanket covers over the two of you. “I love you.” You whispered with soft huffs. “Love you too.” He said, falling asleep with your arms around him.

#sally face #larry johnson fluff #larry johnson x reader smut #sally face larry x reader #larry johnson x reader #larry johnson sally face #sally face larry #larry x reader #larry johnson

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lizaluvsthis · 2 months

Text

Yes we have... SHORT FICS FOR THE ART'S CONTEXT!

(More yumyum foods)

First art after I vanished!

"Breathe deep..."

Three sunk himself deeper from the bed until...

He woke up to see that he was floating in deep abyss of the water. He wondered how he got here.

He was in a dream. He felt aware about what it felt like... the water flowing his hair upwards, three remained silent. With no urge on what to do or whatsoever...

The water blocking his hearing. No sounds played.

He closed his eyes, tried relaxing his mind and body. Breathing... exhaling... bubbled formed...

"Breathe deep and remember..."

Remember... remember... re... remember what exactly..?

What was he supposed to remember? What was his purpose for doing this so?

Loosening himself off the heavy things...

Taking a bit of a break from everything hard...

"You're okay..."

"You're gonna be okay..."

"You're always okay."

"I am not okay..."

He told himself he was fine, he'd always been fine. Why else wouldn't he be?

What is this gentle and caring emotion that has been giving him? When did he get too comfortable?

Letting all of his negative emotions surpass the blue calming water.

Allowing himself to drift from deep blue..

"If you can't handle your own emotions, just set it all free!"

Keep calm and carry on...

2nd art (repost because why not?

"Close my Eyes"

In reality I forgot to put context so pardon.

Washing Mashine Heart by mitski

Three felt like he wanted to pluck both of his own eyes... wanting to hold the tears... wanting to forget about the things he did...

Fear of everything that he'll lose one day...

Right after what happened...with the castle...

"We're friends!"

...

Its hard to lose him again...

He wondered how did he get too close from him? How he admired the touch of friendship he now has forming with him... he wondered why it even matter to him...

Hence, that he wished from a shooting star. To forget what he had all saw... with everything... so many things... that he didn't want to see again...

Pluck it out.

"Keep those eyes to yourself..."

Blue said. "How are you supposed to see what life gives when everything you've been seeing with your own eyes, meant so much to you...?"

He never spoke, still remained silent. Three closed both of his eyes in a warry night of cold and black.

Smg4 placed both hands in Three's eyes.

"Now open your eyes... what do you see...?"

SMG3 opened his eyes, pitch black is seen around his view. No gap of light from Four's bare hands were shown, just him, and the sight of nothingness...

"Black, I see pitch black..." Three responds, trying to ignore how both of Four's hands are carefully covering his eyes. But he could feel that his hand was cold, a little rough coming from his scars that recovered during the incident.

"Now try to imagine... in a world filled with life. How would you describe your own?"

...

At this point, the man in purple started to cry. He couldn't handle it. The burden pain that had been ripping his heart, felt like he wanted to tear his skin.

Tried holding his tears, holding it all, keeping everything together.

Bottling it all up...

It wasn't enough...

He wasn't... enough...

For someone... in particular...

He was weak, he made himself weak.

He held both of Four's wrist, the scars from his hands. Now same with his partner's.

He felt like he would melt in any second, not just because of what he'd realize behind what he had been shown.

It was all because of Four as well.

He felt like his insides were stabbing itself, not daring to say a word of another. But wanting to... yet he can't...

Everything felt worthless...

He tried to muster up a word... say something.... anything at all...

It was crushing him deep inside, he just couldn't do it...

Something getting stuck from his throat, strangling his neck even tho nothing physical .

But why couldn't he...?

"Empty... am I right?"

He wasn't wrong. His whole world was nothing, he was nothing, everything from his life used to be filled with chaos and hate. It was black. Well- used to be...

Now everything... at his current... now had filled him with life, the meaning, the shine that brightens up from the gaps beyond the trees whenever he goes out of his cafe.

Taking himself for a walk and happens to see nature.. so peacefully here... so calm... so...

Quiet..

He wonders how Four could even do it... how he could explain everything about it than just using words. How this felt so simple for him to do.

Now there was Four. From his point of view, he saw his ex rival casually hanging around with his close friend Mario while him...

Standing behind the tall trees, sharing a peek with his red eyes. To witness an eye catching wonder of smg4 laughing, a sweet and adoring laugh.

Made the full view of orange turning to blue, his color.

It was beautiful... it made him feel things that mostly have been felt whenever he saw him happy.

He wish that he had that too...

Why... not... me...?

#lizaluv #smg4 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #my art #two arts were both my vent arts.

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heich0e · 1 year

Text

splintered - drummer!osamu miya/f!reader (haikyuu!) tags: band!au, pining, angst, high school friends to ?, unspoken feelings, mentioned semi eita/reader and osamu/groupies, here is some lovely drummer!osamu art by @/tnkisu if u want to pine for him like i am! word count 1.6k

Osamu replaces his drumsticks, on average, about once a month.

It's less frequent now than it once was, thanks largely to the fact that he started buying better quality sticks since the band has been gigging regularly and he can afford it, coupled with the fact that he'd gotten old enough to outgrow that adolescent ignorance of his own strength or frenetic enthusiasm while he’s playing. Still, every time he breaks a stick, he hears his mother's voice in the back of his mind, furious that for the second time in as many weeks he was begging her for more pocket money so he could replace them.

(She would always buy him new ones, anyway.)

Osamu has broken three sticks this week.

He tries to pretend that he doesn't know why. Tries to pretend it's no big deal when yet another stick splinters in his hands on a particularly violent rap against his snare. Tries to pretend he doesn't see you in the bright red of the first aid kit each time he has to bandage up his bloody fingers—the first aid kit you'd bought him to keep in the studio space that the band rents in a block of office buildings, for when he injures himself by practicing too much.

But there's something more pressing he's pretending not to notice now. Something more real and tangible looming over him.

Literally.

Because you're standing next to his drum kit with your arms crossed and a scowl on your face, and he's beating away at the drum kit and acting like it's totally normal that he hasn't so much as acknowledged you since you came in unannounced.

Finally, like the three sets of sticks Osamu’s thrown away this week, you snap.

Your hand shoots out and Osamu panics, aborting whatever motion he was in the process of following through and flinching away from you.

“What the hell are you doing!” he exclaims angrily, drumbeat silenced, as your hand wraps around the stick in his right hand and you wrench it out of his grip. “I could’ve fuckin’ hurt ya!”

“Oh,” you say, chucking the drumstick across the cramped little studio, your expression twisted into something a little meaner to match his own, “how nice of you to finally notice me.”

“I’m practicin’,” Osamu grunts, pushing himself up from his seat behind his drum kit, “or I was before ya interrupted me.”

“I need to talk to you.”

Osamu pauses as he moves to cross the room towards where you tossed his stick, his broad back facing you.

“I’m busy.”

You make a strangled noise of frustration.

“Well then make time for me, Samu,” you snap. “You’ve been ignoring me for days!”

Osamu crouches down and starts searching for the wayward drumstick among some sound equipment stacked up in the corner, tucking the one you hadn’t pried from his hold into the back pocket of his jeans. He doesn’t reply to your demand. Doesn’t even acknowledge it.

“Why would you try and ban me from your gigs?” you ask—and he’s sure you mean to sound furious. Osamu’s known you so long that your intent is as clear to read as your words. But your tone breaks just before the anger can rip through it, a lilt of disappointment—of hurt—wavering in the question.

Osamu is sweaty from the hours he’s been banging away at his drum kit, but suddenly the perspiration on his skin feels cold. Still crouching down, he grabs the hem of his t-shirt in his hands and lifts it to wipe at his face.

“‘Cause.”

It’s not a justification in the slightest. It’s barely even a fucking word. But somehow it’s all that he can muster in reply.

“‘Cause?” you echo incredulously. “What kinda bullshit is that? I had to find out about this ‘ban’ from fucking Suna, of all people—Suna, Osamu!—because Tsumu refuses to get involved in our shit, and I’ve gotten radio silence from you all week. So, mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

Again, Osamu opts for silence in response, shifting a busted amp when he spots the tail end of the stick you’d sent flying peeking out from under it.

“Samu, would you please just talk to me?” you plead, all the strength bleeding from your tone.

He uses the tips of his fingers to fish the end of the drumstick out, and once he has it in his grip he twirls it around his fingers instinctively before clutching it in a white-knuckled fist. It’s painfully quiet in the soundproof studio, the foam sound insulation on the walls almost makes the stillness more stifling.

“What was up with you and that Semi guy last weekend?”

You're quiet.

“Are you serious, Osamu?—”

That same fight, all bitter resentment and defensive hostility, has made itself known again in your voice.

“—You banned me from your gigs because I hooked up with some guy?”

“So you two hooked up, huh?” Osamu’s tone is dry as he muses out the rhetorical question.

“God!” There’s shuffling behind him that he doesn’t turn to see, but it sounds like you’ve knocked something over. Maybe the first aid kit. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Osamu finally risks a guarded glance back over his shoulder towards you.

You’ve dropped your bag on the ground at your feet, your hands tangled in your hair in frustration.

“You know Eita. You’re friends.”

Osamu sniffs. “Don’t really know him. Just run in the same circle ’sall. He’s a city boy.”

“You’re being unfair,” you say to him, your eyes whet with fury. Your hands fall to your sides and clench into fists. “You hook up with little groupies at your shows all the time. I meet one guy and all the sudden-“

“It’s distractin’,” Osamu says, rising back up to his full height to face you head on. “I don’t wanna spend the entire gig worryin’ about what scumbag yer cozied up to.”

“I’m not your responsibility to worry about!”

Osamu feels something sharp and blisteringly sour pang in his stomach.

“I can’t just not worry about ya,” Osamu snaps, frustration sharpening his words into a blade that he never meant to turn on you, but that he fears he’s lost control of.

“I never asked you to do that,” you reply—lips, shoulders, hands all quivering. You’re trembling as you stand before him. Furious and bewildered. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m not babysittin’ ya,” he replies tersely, knowing that nothing he’s said is what he means. Nothing has gone according to the plan he didn’t even have to begin with. “And I know ya didn’t ask, but I can’t help it; I’ve been worryin’ about ya since we were teenagers. Practically kids. And most of the guys hangin’ around those gigs are slimy fucks. Dirtbags. Worse than that, even.”

Your upset is plain on your face, and all Osamu wants is to touch you. To fix the pain he’s caused. But his anger won’t allow it. His ego. He’s too proud and too deep in his own delusions to admit to the real reason why seeing you and Semi Eita cozied up near the bar while his band was playing on stage last weekend made him feel something close to feral—the thrum of vicious adrenaline in his veins had nothing to do with the performance he was in the middle of.

“You’re a liar.”

Osamu freezes. You’ve said the words so quietly and yet they still somehow shake him to his core.

He wants to say something, ask you what you mean, but the sight of tears pooling in the corner of your narrowed eyes stops him. Immobilizes him. Disarms him completely.

The drumstick in his fist slips to the floor, clattering at his feet.

“Hey-“ Osamu panics, taking a step towards you with his hand outstretched. You flinch away from his touch, and the movement pierces his chest.

You laugh, watery and mirthless, and fix Osamu in the coldest glare he thinks you’ve ever turned on him.

He knows he fucked up.

God, he fucked up.

Really bad this time.

You stoop down and grab your bag off the floor brusquely, yanking it up over your shoulder again. You whisk past him towards the door, tilting your body away from his so you don’t have to brush him as you pass, but he still feels your warmth fleetingly.

Osamu smells your perfume as you go. The same one you’ve been wearing since he met you in high school. The same one that clings to his jackets after you borrow them because no matter how many times he tells you, you never bring your own. The same one he’ll turn his head towards when he catches a whiff of it in public, but it never seems to smell quite as good on anyone else as it does on you.

His chest aches.

You stop at the door, your back to him—shoulders rigid like you have your hackles raised.

Your voice is flat when you speak, but you don’t turn to face him.

“Just because Semi wasn’t too fucking afraid to make a move doesn’t mean you get to take it out on him. Or me.”

Your words ring in Osamu’s ears like a crash cymbal, his heart plummeting in his chest.

The door slams behind you on your way out.

#osamu x you #osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #tw angst

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gravitycavity · 4 months

Text

Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 2 - Lifeline

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

Cover art by @sunification

Pomni wrinkled her nose. Somehow, the air in her room smelled even staler than yesterday.

Balancing on a wobbly pile of letter blocks, she stretched to reach the sole remaining object atop her cleaned-out dresser. Surely, at least one of the books up there had to be actually readable. Right?

Snatching it, she hopped to the floor and slid her hand across the smooth, untextured cover. She prayed that the pages wouldn’t be blank, torn to shreds, or hollowed out and filled with eldritch sludge like the others. Swallowing, she turned the cover, and…

…wingdings. A complete novel written entirely in Wingdings.

Pomni’s eye twitched. She’d turned her entire bedroom upside-down in search of something to occupy her unraveling mind — but the living space was, in practice, just a padded cell with a touch of extra flair. The books were only for show. The assortment of toddler toys scattered on the floor seemed to have been placed there just to mock her. The tacky chandelier hurt to look at, and window-bare walls were a silent reminder: No way out.

The sole object that had a practical use was the standing mirror by her bed — and Pomni much preferred that it didn’t. Each day, the mirror confronted her with her obnoxious new body. She was a jester. A fool. An entertainer, devoid of wit or talent, whose inherent patheticness was considered a punchline in itself.

Pomni snarled at her reflection; her reflection snarled back. Was that what they thought of her? Pomni the jester: a sad, helpless idiot to be pointed and laughed at? Was that why it was so important for her to smile?

It didn’t matter how she really felt, who she really was, or what she really wanted. Like it or not, Pomni was the Amazing Digital Circus’ newest wacky character — she was expected to just forget her feelings and play her part, lest she rain on everyone else’s parade.

She gripped the novel tightly.

All out of tears, Pomni screamed, hurling the useless book at the mirror with all the force she could muster. The mirror shattered with a tremendous crack, scattering countless shards of polished glass all across the room.

…And for what? She still felt just as terrible.

“I want to go home…” Pomni crumpled breathlessly to the floor, gripping the sides of her head. “Let me out of here! Let me OUT!”

This couldn’t be forever. It just couldn’t. The exit. She had to find it. The exit. She had to escape. She knew it existed. It had to. Caine was lying. Everyone was. Everyone. There had to be an exit. She saw it. The void. She did. What was on the other side? What was Caine trying to hide from her? He knew something. They all knew something, and she wasn’t going to stop until she—

A horrible, biting pain stabbed the tips of Pomni’s fingers, breaking her out of her vicious thought loop. Her twitching gaze leapt to the source.

Black. Her fingers had turned completely black.

“What…?” Pomni whimpered, watching the darkness creep across her trembling palms. The pain was unbearable — but Pomni forgot all about it once a large eye sprouted in the center of her palm, its pupil twitching erratically against a flashing neon white.

“No…” Pomni recoiled. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. "No, no, no!”

She swore to herself that this couldn’t be happening, but even she didn’t believe it. Kaufmo had been just like her — driven to madness by the same kafkaesque horror she now found herself trapped in. Just like her, he had holed himself up in his room for days on end. Just like her, he’d searched tirelessly for a way out of the circus.

And the reward for his efforts? He now languished with the other forsaken souls in the cellar, condemned for all time without even his own mind for comfort.

And Pomni was next.

“Calm down! Please! Just…” Warm tears streamed down Pomni’s cheeks as the creeping black crested her shoulders. It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t. The abyss of insanity stretched infinitely below her, and Pomni’s mind grasped desperately for something — anything — to prove to herself that this new life was one worth living.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

Her breathing slowed.

The thought of the softhearted soul who had listened to Pomni’s cry for help — who had told her it was okay to feel, whose kind words had numbed the pain — speared through the dark clouds like golden rays of light.

Ragatha. Again and again, the woman’s soothing voice sounded within Pomni’s psyche, and little by little, the burden of eternity was lifted from her shoulders. The abstraction retreated back toward Pomni’s fingers, and the screaming pain it wrought muted into a quiet purr.

Deep breath in, deeper breath out.

In and out.

In, and…

The clock ticked softly. Pomni cracked open a single eye, one hand cradling her thumping chest. Her gaze shined brightly, sweeping across her arms, wrists, and hands.

She was safe.

Besides the few seconds it took to swipe the tears off of her face, Pomni didn’t waste any time. Though her wobbly legs could barely carry her, she fought to stand anyway, pointing her head toward the one thing in her room that she’d never bothered to look at until now.

The door.

🎪 🎪 🎪

Gangle let out a squeal of pure joy. “Today’s going to be a good day. I can feel it!”

“Gee,” Ragatha’s head tilted aside, “you’re awfully chipper today, Gangle.”

The mirthful smile on Gangle’s mask added a drop of life to the big top’s otherwise-sterile atmosphere. “Of course! I get so lonely when the day is over, you know? I’d much rather be here with you guys!”

Ragatha smiled. “I couldn’t possibly agree more.”

Neither Zooble nor Kinger bothered to weigh in on the conversation, but Ragatha figured that Kinger, at the very least, would share Gangle’s sentiments. The walking paradox often kept to himself, but he never went as far as to shut out the rest of the world. He could set up his pillow forts anywhere, after all, yet he always did so in close proximity to others.

If only a certain someone was the same.

Ragatha toyed with the fabric of her dress. No matter what she did, she just couldn’t get that new girl out of her head.

Other than yesterday’s disastrous filming session — which a kicking and screaming Pomni had been forced to attend — the poor thing had done nothing but languish in her room since her arrival. Clearly, she was in desperate need of a soft shoulder to cry on, but given how hard she was taking things, getting close enough to form any sort of friendship would be easier said than done.

But it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Yesterday, Ragatha had seen for herself that it was possible to break through. Pomni had hidden it quickly, but Ragatha swore she had seen her smiling. And what a lovely smile it was.

A three-second daydream ended with Ragatha’s gaze turning inward. What was she thinking? She was only setting herself up for disappointment. Unless Caine forced her out again, Pomni would probably never—

Ragatha perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned on a dime — but her face fell once she saw who was behind her.

“What’s the matter, Buttons?” Jax’s slick stride didn’t falter for even a second. “Was it something I said?”

Ugh. Two sentences in, and Ragatha was already exhausted. “I have one button on my face, Jax. One. That name doesn’t even make sense. Try harder.” She huffed, closing her posture, “Or — here’s an idea — you could try using my actual name for once.”

“Yeesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed…”

“No, Jax.” Zooble rolled their eyes, “You’re just an &$#hole.”

Gangle held in a giggle.

Jax scowled. He opened his mouth to fire back, but the sudden pomp and circumstance that filled the big top made his fur stand on end. Floating bugles sang with regal fanfare. Rainbow confetti rained from above. An invisible percussionist pounded on a timpani, building up to the final, dramatic climax:

With a precise flourish, Caine made his grand entrance. “Good morning, my cute little clique of carnies—”

“Ew. Nope. Start over.” Zooble crossed their arms. “We’re not your cute little anything, Caine.”

Just like that, the ringmaster disappeared, only to reappear a half-second later with the exact same routine. “Good morning, my sophisticated society of sagacious sausage-sizzlers!”

“The #@$& does that mean!?”

Disappear, reappear. “Good morning…” Caine hesitated, “…everyone!”

Zooble sighed. “How is this my life…?”

“Good to see you too, Zooble.” Caine lifted his tophat to let Bubble out — and the little gremlin immediately started running his mouth.

“Oh, oh! I just thought of something fun, Caine! Let’s go on an adventure today!” Bubble flew in tight circles around his master. “C’mon, let’s go! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s g—”

Caine popped Bubble with a well-placed poke. “What a novel idea!” He snapped his fingers, and an enormous, hand-painted backdrop of a spooky forest dropped in from who-knows-where. “Somewhere in the dark, dismal depths of the digital forest, an old mansion sleeps, undisturbed for eons…”

“Oh, this sounds fun!” Gangle clasped her ribbons together. “I love it when there’s lore!”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Oh, good. Gangle thinks it’s important, which means we can safely skip over it.”

Caine cleared his throat, despite not really having one to speak of. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to venture inside this spooktacular chateau and secure the precious heirloom hidden within — the brilliant bronze brooch of the manor’s malevolent matriarch, Margarethe MacGuffin!”

Somehow, Bubble was already back. “Vroom, vroom!” he chirped, “There she goes, driving the plot!”

“But don’t expect it to be a simple walk in the park, my valiant vegetables! You’ll need to keep your wits about you to navigate a lengthy labyrinth of tricky traps and perplexing puzzles — not to mention a scintillating suite of supernatural sentries!”

🎪

Pomni shook her head, ducking back behind one of the huge, garish stacking blocks scattered beneath the big top. A haunted house…? Ragatha or not, this particular adventure didn’t exactly sound like it would do wonders for her mental health. They weren’t all this stressful…were they?

She glanced back toward the way she came. Perhaps leaving her room was a lousy idea after all.

“No, no! What are you saying?” Pomni slapped her cheeks, “You can’t go back. If you keep isolating yourself, you’ll end up just like…”

Pomni looked over her shoulder. The damage done during Kaufmo’s rampage had already been repaired, but the barrel of monkeys she had been forced to cower behind that day was still in the exact same spot.

The memory sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“I’ll just, um…” Pomni sighed, plopping herself onto one of the circus’s childish set pieces. Fingers drumming idly upon the surface, her gaze wandered upward. “I’ll just wait here! Yeah! And meet everyone for dinner after the adventure is — Holy $#&% !”

Pomni slapped her hands over her mouth, jerking away from the trio of floating eyeballs lingering above her. Their cold, unflinching stares bore holes through her very soul. How long had those been there!?

Had Pomni held her breath waiting for the revolting specimens to blink, she would have asphyxiated by now. “C-C-Caine? Is that you…?”

🎪

“Zooble…” the ringmaster swirled his magician’s cane, “…you’re adventuring with Kinger today!”

Kinger emerged from his pillow fort. Smiling with his eyes, he looked at his partner-du-jour. Zooble shrugged.

“Gangle, your faithful companion will be…”

Gangle shivered. “Please don’t say Jax. Please don’t say Jax. Please don’t say—’

“…your best friend Jax, of course!”

“Like two peas in a pod!” Jax slapped Gangle twice on the back. Gangle’s mirthful mask shattered to pieces, and her subsequent whimper was as pitiful as usual.

Ragatha sighed, glancing sadly toward the dormitory hall. She should have known better than to get her hopes up. “I guess that means I’m the one stuck by myself this time…?”

“Of course not!” Caine replied, “Ragatha, your partner-in-crime for today’s heart-throbbing adventure is the one, the only…Pomni!”

Ragatha squinted. “But she isn’t even—”

Caine curled his finger inward, and a high-pitched yelp sounded in the distance. All turned to watch as a panicking Pomni was forced out of her hiding spot and dragged towards the rest of the group. Bubble, for his part, immediately got to work lapping up the blue-and-red skid marks left behind by her shoes.

Pomni's surprise trip stopped just as abruptly as it had started, and the inertia sent her careening toward the floor. Just before her face met the tile, however, a pair of soft hands caught her by the waist.

“Caine! What is wrong with you?” Ragatha scolded. She held Pomni against her chest like the world’s biggest, saddest teddy bear. “You could have hurt her!”

Jax pointed with a grin. “Careful, Dollface. She bites.”

“Oh, hush up.” Ragatha narrowed her eyes. Her gaze flicked down. Pomni stared back like a deer in headlights — and Ragatha could feel for herself how quickly the little jester’s heart was beating.

“You alright, Sweetheart?” Ragatha set Pomni back down, making sure the younger woman was on stable footing before fully letting go.

Pomni squeaked, turning away with her face buried in her hands. “Uh-huh! R-Right as rain!”

Ragatha hid her bemused smirk fairly well. What a dork.

“Pomni?!” Kinger flinched. It was anyone’s guess as to where his mind had been during the entire previous exchange. “What in the world?! I…I thought you abstracted!”

Gangle shook her head. “That was Kaufmo.”

“…Oh. Right.”

Jax slipped his hands into his pockets. He slid toward Pomni, showing off his golden teeth like a hungry shark ready to feed. “Hey, what’s the big idea? After your little tantrum yesterday, we thought you wouldn’t care if we all got run over by a train. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I, uh…” Pomni shrank away. “N-No! Well, yes, but…but I didn’t mean—”

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, Jax?” Ragatha placed her hands on Pomni’s shoulders. “Ignore him, Pomni. It’s a new day — we’re glad you’re here.”

The look on Pomni’s face was hopelessly awkward, but Ragatha didn’t mind — it still looked better than the jester’s usual pout.

Zooble groaned. “Okay, we get it! The resident wet kitten dragged herself out of her room to show her face again. Whoop-dee-#$%&ing-do. Can we get this adventure over with already!?”

“That’s the spirit! Sort of!” Caine rested his arm on the hypotenuse of Zooble’s head, peering expectantly at the rest of the group. “Any last burning questions before the fantastic funtivities commence?”

“…Stop touching me.” Zooble growled.

“That’s not a question!”

Kinger shook his head. “Did you learn nothing from your time inside the Gloink Queen?” He stepped between them and Caine. “Repeat after me, Zooble. ‘What is stop touching me?’”

“So close, yet so far away!” Caine leapt high into the air. “Well then, if there’s nothing more to discuss…”

“Wait a minute!” Pomni’s hand shot into the air. “I never agreed to—”

Caine snapped his fingers, and the group disappeared in a flash.

---

@sunification was kind enough to illustrate a scene from this chapter! You can find it here. Don't forget to check out their other art, as well!

[First Chapter] [Next Chapter]

#pomni x ragatha #pomnitha #pomni #tdac pomni #pomniposting #tadc ragatha #the amazing digital circus ragatha #ragapom #digital yuri #jesterdoll #buttonblossom #ragatha x pomni #tadc fanfiction #lesbian #sapphic #tadc ship #tadc sunshine

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angellayercake · 5 months

Text

He is

Vampire Terzo x FReader | NSFW

Art by the wonderful @tasty-ribz

For @ghostchems on her birthday! To be a little bit soppy as much as I love ghost for being ghost it has also brought me some incredible friends. We bonded over loving terzo and love island and now you are my favourite person to scream about awful men with every day. I hope everyone is making you feel a special as Terzo would today because as far as we are concerned yours is the only important birthday happening this month 💜

Now a best selling author thanks to your experience at Crowley Manor you find yourself struggling to muster up inspiration for the sequel. Will returning to the place it all began help you? Or just confirm the none of it was real? A sequel to Cirice Warnings: blood, rough sex, hints of mind control, pinv sex, cunnilingus, lots of dust hehe

With a huff of frustration you scratch out the poor excuse for a sentence and drop your pen. There were more scribbles across the page then there were words and you needed a break or you might end up throwing your note pad across the room. Abandoning your desk you wander over to the window for a distraction from your writer's block. The evening was drawing in, street lights flickering on one by one as people hurried home from their day whether it be work or leisure it was still an unwelcome reminder of your lack of productivity. Turning from the view you scan across the room, your home office, hoping for something to spark your inspiration but your mind remains unhelpfully blank. You ponder just giving up for the day, shutting the door and giving yourself over to your evening but deadlines are approaching and there is still so much to do. With a reluctant determination, you turn to your inspiration board and will it to do its job.

When you had decided to write a follow up to your best selling debut novel, you had carefully gathered all the things you knew you would need to refer to to build the story. There were your photographs from Crowley Manor, newspaper clippings about the house and the area, quotes and key plot points from the original story, a couple of photos of bela lugosi, the closest you can find to how you remember him looking - although you have sketched what you recall of the facepaint he wore over the top with a marker - and in the centre, the note; the only thing you have that proves that it was real. Well, that and the two small scars on your neck. You rub your fingers over them absentmindedly as you try to remember anything more but even as the scars faded, so did your memories to the point where you are not entirely sure any of it was real. Reading over the words again.

A candle casting a faint glow

You and I see eye to eye

Can you hear the thunder?

How can you hear the thunder that's breaking?

Now there is nothing between us

From now our merge is eternal

Can't you see that you're lost?

Can't you see that you're lost without me?

-iii

You hum the tune to yourself, the melody you had only heard once and yet it plays through your dreams so frequently you have never been able to forget it, always accompanied by a dark shadow and the sense that you are being watched. Your experience at Crowley Manor - whether a true encounter with a dashing vampire or a figment of your imagination - had changed your life. You were a writer now; a successful published writer. Your vampire romance novel had been an instant best seller, ‘the mysterious vampire luring in unsuspecting victims until one stole his heart’ earned a loyal fanbase and quickly. In interview after interview you were asked if you had based him on someone real, probably assuming he was an older man you had a crush on, but you always answered no because how could you explain that he was a man you had most likely conjured up in a dream.

But that had all brought you to where you were now; attempting to write the much anticipated sequel. The heroine of your story had left the manor in a similar way to you but after having spent much longer with her vampire lover, and as much as you wanted to see them reunited you were struggling to find the narrative. Unlike you she had been offered forever with him and had chosen to return to her normal life, so without a justified reason, why would she return? Your thought process hits a brick wall once again as you rub your tired eyes. There is only one thing left to try before you may be forced to give up. The familiar pull in your gut that you had been resisting since the day you left was finally winning. You had to go back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gate is rusted and stiff, so you have to push hard to create enough space for you to slip through and even then you almost trip on the piles of rubbish littering the driveway. You step over the buckled historical society sign with a sigh - even they had given up on the place and for some time by the looks of things. Tall weeds were growing through the now sparse gravel, even more windows had been boarded up and there were layers of faded graffiti covering the front door. It is already ajar but you have to shove it open, pushing it past the built up leaves and dust trying to wedge it closed. Although the state of the outside had saddened you, it is the interior that makes your heart sink - it was never nice to see a beautiful old house fall into ruin.

The floorboards still gave their familiar creak under your soft footsteps, but that was about the only similarity. The sconces, once filled with dripping candles were now empty and shrouded in cobwebs, and dust motes thick enough to choke you floated in what little beams of light that made it through the windows. Without the soft piano luring you further into the house you took your time to properly look around, cautiously walking through room after room. What little furniture that hadn’t been stolen or vandalised was covered in dust sheets. The shelving sits almost empty in every room; you pass only a few odd books and trinkets still in place but almost unrecognisable underneath all the grime.

Towards the back of the house you come to what looks like a music room and a feeling of deja vu washes over you. The grand piano still dominates the room, but when you run your fingers across what little keys are left it only lets out reluctant, discordant notes as neglected and decaying as the rest of your surroundings. The fireplace is a yawning chasm on the back wall without the welcoming fire filling it, but you remember laying on the soft rug before it where he had given and taken unimaginable pleasure from you, well at least you thought. Because it was seeming more and more likely you had imagined it. You pull yourself from your thoughts and that is when the portrait catches your eye. How you never noticed it before you don’t understand, but it hangs perfectly above the mantel and crushes the last shreds of hope you were clinging onto.

It is him. His distinctive face paint, his perfectly styled hair and his intense mismatched eyes. At least now you know what really happened on your last visit to this place. Before you had fallen asleep you must have seen this portrait on your last visit, striking as he was and then your mind had concocted the whole fantasy. You are not sure exactly what you had been expecting returning to Crowley Manor, but you couldn’t avoid the cutting disappointment that was slicing through you. All that was here was an empty old house and a painting of a man. With one last longing look you take your leave as you fight the knot of feelings solidifying in your chest. There was nothing else for you here. You reach the foyer where the light of dusk shines around the edges of the open door, illuminating your exit from this house and your return to reality, when you hear it…

We're standing here by the abyss…

That voice. The words were different and even the tune was different, but that voice. There was nothing else it could be but him. The alluring sound drifts down from the upper floor to where you stand and you don’t even try to resist his siren call as your feet carry you towards the grand staircase.

And the world is in flames…

Your footprints disturb the thick layers of dust covering the once grand carpet that leads the way up, but you continue unconcerned by the trail you are leaving in your wake, your only thought finding your way to the source of that beautiful sound.

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out…

It gets clearer as you reach the upper level, but you still haven't quite found him yet. Along the landing are multiple doors that you consider as you walk, but once your eyes land on the ornate double doors at the furthest end you know inherently; that is your destination.

To the beast with many names…

The floorboards creak as you get closer and closer even as you attempt to keep your steps measured and even, but if that didn’t give you away then you are sure your laboured breathing and thundering heartbeat would.

He is. He's the shining and the light without whom I cannot see…

The singing stops when you reach the doors and with barely a brush of your fingertips,they swing open revealing only a dark room within. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, but even that doesn’t make you hesitate to enter. It is as abandoned as the rest of this cursed house. All the anticipation you had felt soured inside you and tears pricked at your eyes as you circled in the centre of the room taking in the dusty bed and empty fireplace. Your back is turned when a sudden bang startles you, the doors slamming shut. You cry out in fear, turning in an instant and rushing towards them. Pushing and pulling is futile and they will not budge. The knowledge that you are trapped fills you with a shiver as a chill falls over the room.

“My little lamb returns,” he growls in your ear, appearing as if from nowhere. His arms box you in against the door, his white gloves the only part of him you can see. You try to turn, to see him but his body presses close, cold and unyielding as stone behind you. You should do something, anything but fear and lust paralyse you as they tear through you in equal measure.

“You are real,” you barely whisper before his fangs sink into your neck, the sharp shock of pain stealing your consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes flutter open you find it hard to believe you are even in the same room. You are lying in the centre of a four poster bed, propped up against a mountain of airy pillows and as you shift the sheets feel unbelievably soft against your fingers. The heavy drapes are tied to the frame on one side giving you a clear view of the fireplace and the figure silhouetted against it. His back is to you, seemingly unaware that you are now awake so you take your time admiring him.

It is undoubtedly him. His hair is slicked back, familiar in both your memory and in his portrait you had not long discovered. This time he wears a white suit with gold trim that glimmers in the firelight and it is certainly one you have never seen before. He turns in your direction giving you a glimpse of his striking profile still covered in his unusual skull-like face paint. He clears his throat glancing at you and you realise he is also holding a book up to the fire light. Not just any book. That is your book. The one you had written about him. You sit bolt upright but a wave of dizziness stops you from acting any further.

“His touch feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It scares you how much you crave it; how much you want him to keep touching you and to never stop. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest, despite the overwhelming feeling of comfort that has fallen over you.” He smirks as he reads your words back to you with an arrogance that can only come from knowing it was written about him.

“How did you get that?” you hiss at him, the mortification you are experiencing seems to break some of the spell he has over you. He chuckles darkly in response, snapping the book shut and placing it on the nightstand so you can see the very suggestive illustration you had commissioned for the cover clearly.

“You have a way with words, agnellino.” He leans against the bedpost, running his eyes over you and watching how you react just to his presence. “Do you still crave my touch as much as you wrote?” His elongated teeth peek out of his mouth with how wide his smile is, clearly enjoying having this additional power over you. You almost miss not so long ago when you believed he had been a figment of your imagination.

“It’s called creative licence,” you snap back breathlessly, trying your damnedest to keep your composure but you make the mistake of meeting his mismatched eyes and you are pulled under all over again. It’s like he can worm his way into your very soul and convince you of anything he desires.

“Why did you come back?” He looms over you at the end of the bed as he waits for you to answer him. As subtly as you can, you try to sit yourself up to make yourself feel less vulnerable but your limbs are weak and uncooperative.

“I’m writing again,” you start. It is the truth - or at least part of the truth - but you can tell he doesn't believe you, fixing you with his intense stare, waiting for you to be more forthcoming. “Last time I was here it was very… inspiring.”

“I see, I see.” He starts to pace next to the bed, giving you a reprieve and a chance to breathe but you sense it is by no means the end of your interrogation. “Just ‘professional interest’ then?”

“Yes, that is all. I should go.” You try again to sit up and ease yourself off the bed but before your feet can touch the ground he kneels in front of you, blocking you from moving any further.

“Ah ah ah,” he scolds, wagging his finger at you like he was disciplining a wayward child. “You come into my home uninvited - again, I might add.” He leans close enough you can feel the cold radiating from him, his teeth bared threateningly. “I need the truth.” Fear makes you tense but somehow you know he would never really hurt you - at least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy. You start to think his irritation is more directed at your refusal to admit how much you want him rather than the fact you broke into his house. Again.

“You lured me up here! You could have just let me leave.” That thought boosts your confidence just enough to push back. Just a little. He didn't have to reveal himself to you everytime you were here, and yet he did.

“No I couldn't, little lamb,” he whispers, a softness falling over his face. “I could never resist a chance to taste you again.” His attention drops to your feet, helping you out of your shoes before he stands again before you. “Tell me why you are really here.” He had given you your chance to tell him of your own volition, but now you could feel his will influencing you and bringing forth the truth. He eases his jacket from his shoulders, leaving it on the floor where it falls. He makes quick work of his bow tie adding it to the pile of clothes at his feet.

His cuff links go next, freeing him to turn up his sleeves and then his collar sliding one button free at a time until it hangs open. His toned chest is covered in thick dark hair and it's all you can do not to reach out and bury your fingers in it. Even without his vampiric lure, you would struggle to resist him. He crawls over you, forcing you to scoot back onto the bed to make room for him and you find yourself unable to speak as you get lost in his eyes.

“Tell me…” He is intoxicating and you find you no longer have the willpower to resist him. You had forgotten how powerful he was, his presence alone narrowing your mind until all you can think of is him. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but somehow they still won't come.

“Why are you here agnellino, eh?” He holds himself over you, the only thing touching you are the open tails of his shirt, denying you any more until you obey him. “Did you miss me?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were real any more,” you admit reluctantly and his eyes alight at your delayed admission.

“Shall I remind you how real I am?” There is a voice in your mind somewhere telling you to say no, but with every other part of you screaming a resounding yes it is easy to tune out - though you still can’t quite bring yourself to say it. So you nod and he wastes no more time. His dexterous fingers make quick work of your trousers and your underwear, pulling them off you in one swift motion and then he is on you. His strong hand grasps your ankle, pulling you even closer so he can press his lips to your bare skin.

He starts at the sole of your foot, lavishing you with open mouthed kisses and grazes of his dangerous teeth. He seeks out parts of your body you had never even known were sensitive before, whether it was his plush mouth sucking at them or tracing them with his tongue. The curve of your calf, the dip behind your knee and the crease of your inner thigh. His cool breath raises goosebumps across your skin and he chases them with his mouth, only pausing to suck on the beads of blood that bloom where he allows his fangs to nick your skin. The contrasts make you needy for more of his touch, the warm and the cold, the pleasure and the pain. When he eventually reaches your core he ceases all his teasing and devours you, his groans of pleasure vibrating through you as he laps at your entrance and sucks on your clit.

“Every part of you tastes exquisite,” he moans again at your skin as he pulls at the hem of your shirt, allowing himself access to even more of your skin. Your bra is pulled roughly aside so he can latch onto your nipples one after the other. Losing himself in his lust, he pinches them roughly as his teeth make deliberate shallow slices in your cleavage. He suckles at them harshly, milking all the blood he can from such a surface cut.

Eventually he reaches your neck pressing a deceptively gentle kiss to your scar from your last encounter before seeking out the fresher puncture wounds from earlier in the evening. He probes them harshly with his tongue disturbing the newly formed clots enabling him to drink freely from you until he is positively drunk on you.

“You are so warm agnellino,” he moans, reluctantly pulling away from you only to tear off his loose shirt and rip off his trousers. He fits himself back on top of you, desperate to be as close as possible and ruts his aching length against your hip, his mouth latching back onto your neck. He rears back giving you the opportunity to see him for the hunger ridden monster he is, but it only makes you want him more. His face paint is smudged across his face, the once precise lines blurring and blending with what remains of your blood and your juices, and his eyes sparkle with something dangerous that you can't resist. With a snarl he forces your legs wide so he can see all of you, his fingers digging a bruising grip into your soft thighs.

“After tonight you will never again doubt my existence,” he growls as he fucks into you in one long, hard stroke. There is no waiting for you to grow accustomed to him filling you; he just takes you hard, pushing the air from your lungs every time he fills you. He is rough and demanding and you crave every part of this more animalistic side to him. Your blood loss and his body worship have pushed you outside your own body, the pleasure and the pain meeting and blending and pushing you into a euphoria you had never experienced before.

Even as his control was slipping even further away, his cock aimed perfectly, fucking into you in exactly the right place over and over while the drag of him inside your tight heat forced sobs and gasps from both of you. In the state he had you, you knew you would do anything and everything he wanted and if you hadn’t been so light headed, you might have realised that that was exactly what he wanted. He grunts as he pulls you closer, angling your hips just so that he can fuck into you even deeper, your moans of satisfaction harmonising as somehow your pleasure grows stronger than you ever thought possible.

“Has anyone fucked you like this since me, little lamb?” He is panting, hardly able to get his words out, somehow seeming more human even in the midst of his monstrous lust.

“No,” you whine. There is no use denying it, because who could possibly compare to him?

“Bene,” he snarls, a possessive sneer crossing his face. “No one will ever, ever fuck you like me.’ You sob in agreement as the burn in your core grows, bringing you so close. Babbled nonsense falls from your lips. You can only hope he understands how little you need to push you over the edge.

Thankfully something you said must have made sense, because in the next moment his thumb is stroking your clit in time with his ever more frantic thrusts and the wave of your climax begins to crash, sweeping you along in its powerful tide. Your vision greys at the edges and vaguely, somewhere amidst the buzz, you feel him reach his peak just behind you as his thrusts stutter before stilling as he fills you.

Inelegantly he pulls away, landing beside you on the bed. He pulls you to him stroking your hair and dotting your forehead with sweet kisses. Contentment surges through you as you rest against his chest, his lack of heartbeat barely registering.

“You are so very sleepy, little lamb,” he breathes into your hair, and you can only spare a thought to agree as you succumb to the overwhelming pull of sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold and stale morning air lures you from your sleep this time, a much less pleasant awakening than your last. Your whole body aches as you shift and try to take in your surroundings. You are alone. The dawn light spilling through the drapes allows you to see, and the bedroom appears dusty and abandoned, not the cosy boudoir you had experienced last night.

The dusty sheets cling to your clothes as you try to stand but every movement reveals a new bite mark or bruise until you are on your feet. The worst pain though, is the ache in your heart. This should have been expected and yet the fact that he isn't here hurts. Rather than satisfying you, this second encounter only made you yearn more for this terrible, mysterious man. Your only consolation was that now at least, you will have plenty more to write about.

You don't try to call out to him, already knowing how futile that would be, so you look once more around the room, trying hard to commit it all to memory when the night stand catches your attention. A single white rose sits atop a folded piece of paper. You pick them both up, carefully making sure to avoid the sharp thorns and unfold the paper to see that unmistakable handwriting.

We’re standing here by the abyss

And the world is in flames

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out

To the beast with many names

He is

He’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see

-iii

His words were cryptic as ever but you let it fill you with uncertain hope. Maybe you were the star-crossed lovers? Or maybe not. All you knew for now at least, was that you felt you were still at the very beginning of this story…

…and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you.

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

mvm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! best day of the week:)))) could i please get some rockstar!james maybe it’s r first time touring and he’s just so excited to show them everything and introduce them to everyone and take them to all the places but after like two days r is exhausted and he feels so bad so they have a day in together 🥹🥹

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

James is pacing, actually pacing with excitement, phone clutched in his hand as he walks past the end of your bed.

"-then after lunch we'll go to the art museum, it's just down a block from our restaurant. And afterwards at about 3PM, there's gonna be a karaoke event at this cafe I found, so I figured that would be fun, and-"

You nod along to each item on your itinerary, but you're exhausted. Spending time with James is fun no matter what you're doing, but right now, napping with him sounds best. You'll barely be able to muster up the energy to fill out this crazy checklist of his, but he's excited to share his time with you, and you'd feel awful not returning the enthusiasm. You let a yawn slip from your mouth, trying not to sigh too hard as you raise your hand to cover the expression.

"-when karaoke's done, we can head over to-" James glances up from the notes app of his phone where he's laid out your schedule, watching as you shut your mouth, eyes slightly teary from the yawn, "Uh- darling, are you tired?"

"A bit," You nod, voice scratchy with a plea for sleep, "Go ahead, Jamie."

He makes his decision in a split second, locking his phone and leaving it on the dresser as he heads for the bed.

"No, it's alright," He hums, pulling back the covers to slide beneath them, "Let's have a rest."

"There's no time," You lament, "Don't we have to be to the amusement park by 9 AM?"

"Our passes are refundable," James lies through his teeth, mourning the loss of his cash, "It's alright, darling, you need rest. I've been dragging you around quite a lot, haven't I?"

"No, James-" You start, but he shushes you with a single shake of his head.

"Rest, love." He urges, burrowing under the covers himself and relishing in the feeling of relaxation that he didn't know he needed, "We can order lunch in, and karaoke isn't important. I'm a bloody rockstar, for fuck's sake, I can sing whenever I want."

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artistidiot · 29 days

Text

Stone x Short sighted! Reader

(Been a while since I've done my deaf reader so I've decided to do short sighted reader)

Requested by: no one!

Tw: none just fluff!

Cw: light cussing

Your a short sighted scrap, kicked out of the house by your terrible rich parents because they thought that having a kid that was somewhat blind would be a disgrace to the family.

You've been sleeping in empty trash can ond or dumpsters because you for 1: cant see shit. So stealing isn't an option. And 2: you know damn well you weren't going to survive out her alone.

You were normally alone in empty alleys (or alley since you preferred to stay close. Again, you can't see much because if you went to far, you wouldn't remember where you were ig.)

NOW, STRAIGHT TO WHEN YOU'VE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO THE THREE HOBOS GROUP. Skipp was generally worried as to why you didn't have glasses. Idk your parents were just cheapskates to even get you a pair. Vinnie and Stone shrugged it off but with a little worry. I mean if you managed to live this long without glasses, then you didn't need them.

Even if you did have glasses, you'd just get a headache from those damn things. And when you did get those headaches. You'd huddled up into Stone cuz, he's comfy for being skinny and he also didn't care. Even though he prefers you not to huddle him.

But you know deep down he loves you with all his cold heart could muster. If he pushes you away from him when he isn't generally feeling it that day, he would give you a bottle of alcohol in hopes you forgive him. Look at him do the bare minimum 👺

Denies the fact that he likes you in a romantic aspect. Even though you and the others can see it clear as day.

He really is protective of you. Even if you can be a little shit sometimes. He scolds you when you do stupid shit but hey. He gives you food or more alcohol.

Helps you out with reading, if you even can. You normally stay in the alley petting some street cat to keep you busy.

What if you two end up dating each other? It would be mostly the same except some kisses and hugs. He keeps the pda at a minimum.

SORRY I HAVEN'T POSTED, WRITER AND ART BLOCK HAVE BEEN DRIVING ME NUTS

IM ALSO DOING REQUESTS FOR RAMSHACKLE! I NEED YOU HEADCANNONS BECAUSE MY ONE BRAINCELL AND ONLY DO SO MUCH AT A TIME

#x reader #head cannon #ramshakle show #fanfic #headcanon #ramchackle #ramshackle x reader #stone ramshackle #stone x reader

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azsazz · 7 months

Note

Dorian Havilliard and dark academia fit so well together *chefs kiss* who’s your favorite TOG man?

Oooh I love this. Hmmmm Fenrys is my man 💙

So I’ve never written dark academia nor rlly kno what the genre is but hopefully this turned out alright 💙

You dislike Dorian Havilliard very much.

It didn’t matter that he was son to the king or that his royal guard was also a lord himself or that he excelled in his classes or that he made the ugly, pristinely pressed uniform way too good.

It was that sly tongue of his that always got him out of trouble. The teachers loved him, ate up any excuse to get into his good graces. Everyone laughed at his jokes, floundered over his words. Girls fell to his feet at the charming way he spoke to them, flirtatious to the bone.

And he was smart too.

You were nothing like that. Intelligent, yes, but your lips didn’t curve around the words like Dorain’s did. They were his long-time lover, held close and cared for. An ages old love poem, like he’d been an esteemed writer in his past life, the way they flowed so easily for him.

Not for you, no. You could write beautiful sentences, transform letters into works of art, ones that brought tears to the eyes, but it was speaking eloquently that always tripped you up. Sure, you knew how to structure a sentence as good as Dorian, but you lacked the emotion, the power, to really make your words hit true.

So, you hated Dorian. Because surely no one was that good with words.

You saw the way he was sometimes, when people were laughing to each other at one of his jokes. Eyes gone dark, face stoic as he watched them all with a menacing stare. His fingers curled into fists, and he looked completely other. It was like he was something entirely other, instead of that overly charming boy everyone saw him as.

No one noticed except for you.

Chaol followed him around like a dog and the two of them ruled your school. There hadn’t been a single time during the semester you’d seen them apart. They were even in the same classes.

You started watching him more. You had classes with him, and you rivaled each other for top grade, glaring at the other after every assignment turned in, giving the other a cocky smirk at every question answered correctly. He’d noticed you.

Of course, everything Dorian saw was surface level. He didn’t know your background or the fact that you’d been kept here over the summer because your parents couldn’t afford for you to come home. He didn’t know that the lunch special wasn’t really anything special at all. You’d snuck in to watch the cook make it one evening, and decided you’d never eat it again. He didn’t know that late at night you’d sneak out of your rooms and into the library. There was a hidden door in there, tucked away and ominous. You hadn’t found the courage to step in there yet, but you found yourself entertaining the idea for the rest of the summer, as well as with trying to find any more secret passages.

You startle as he steps into your path, blocking the way to your next class.

“Where are you going?”

“To the library.” This was the night, you were going to go into the secret passage and find out what was going on.

The mention of the library made him stiffen. Pupils growing wider, black consuming sapphire. His spine lengthened, growing stiff, and it made him tower over you even further. His jaw set and his fists curled around his books, nearly tearing through the thick covers.

You look around him, frantically searching for Chaol. You don’t understand what’s going on, why he’s changing like this, so suddenly. You were utterly intrigued the first time you saw it, but up close like this, you’re horrified.

He’s no longer Dorian.

“No, you’re not.” His voice is cold, dark, and unlike his own. It makes you want to take a step back, but he follows.

“Yes, I am,” you answer, mustering up all of the courage you can.

“Then I’ll come with you,” it’s not a suggestion, but something in him snaps, breaks the hold on whatever’s made his eyes go black. He blinks once, gaze focusing on you before his stature melts into that of cocky Dorian once more.

“Please,” you narrow your eyes, tracking his every movement. Dorain leans against the wall, staring down at you with that infuriating smirk he always wears. When you move towards the library, he follows, seemingly having remembered your conversation.

So he wasn’t at a complete lack of control, then.

“You’re only coming to flirt with the librarian,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. You don’t want him coming with you, but if he does, you suppose that you can pretend to study until he grows bored and leaves.

Dorain’s grin is wolfish, but still completely unlike the…the beast, you just saw push through. “Why would I flirt with the librarian, when you’re right next to me?”

#dorian havilliard #azsazz #Dorian AU #azsazz AU #ask azsazz

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whatyadrawin · 4 months

Text

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ - Chapter 5-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,435 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Mild sexually suggestive language, mention of medical issue, swear words.

A/n: Wow I had the WORST writers block, I baked a cake and ruminated on the story for a bit until it came back, and I feel right on track again. Thank you to everyone who waited, I will still be busy with schoolwork but I now can continue the fic train! As always, reblogs, likes and comments are extremely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the chapter and art!

Tag List: @fan-goddess

Chapter 5

The morning came quickly with birds chirping and sunshine beaming into your bedroom, you wasted no time getting yourself ready for the day. When you went to the kitchen to make breakfast you noticed that you had no eggs in the fridge -ugh, I don’t want to make the 2hr drive to the next town for some eggs-, you lean back on the kitchen counter and think, you remember the Hewitts have chickens, -maybe they would let me have some eggs? I used all mine for the cake last night so I guess it’s a fair trade off-. This was a good excuse to try and see Tommy again, so you made up your mind to go visit.

Walking over to the Hewitt house was always a nice bit of exercise to get your legs moving, but the heat from the sun was strong today, and you foolishly didn’t think to wear a hat; your body is not accustomed to the Texan heat and you start to feel dizzy. You reach the edge of the Hewitt property and collapse from lightheadedness, your whole body starts overheating and makes you gasp for air as if you just ran a marathon. You look up at the house and see no one, so you try to call out but your energy levels are too low to make much noise and before you can keep your head lifted, you become so weak you can’t move or speak and instead just lay there, panting and helpless.

Tommy was tending to the cows in the barn, thinking of your smile last night after complimenting your dress, even if it was just a hand gesture. He really wanted to say more about how beautiful you looked but he couldn’t muster the words, he lived most of his life quietly ruminating to himself in his head. No one he had met as a child was kind to him because of the permanent scar on his face from a skin issue that wasn’t able to be fixed until it got too serious; Tommy never liked people looking at his face, the folks that lived in Fuller at that time were all very ignorant and cruel to people who were different than them. For once in his life, a pretty girl was kind to him and even interested in getting to know him better. He didn’t understand why you were nice to him, but he wasn’t one to question kindness, he would rather accept it and hope it lasts.

He heard footsteps crunching up the road near the driveway to his house, Tommy paused his work and looked out from the barn doors to see you shuffling up the road. He could tell something wasn’t right by the way your body was slouching and your feet dragging, he watched in shock as you fell to the ground. With a burst of speed, he launched himself into action, making his way down to where you fell. He could hear a quiet call for help come from you and just as your head lay down, he arrived to your body. He felt a knot in his stomach and kneeled to gently pick you up off the ground and bring you inside the house.

“MAWMA!” he yelled; his booming voice rang through the home.

Luda Mae came out from the back porch hurriedly “What’s goin’ on? Oh lord, is that *Y/N*?”

He raced over to the living room and gently lay you down on the couch, looking around helplessly. Luda Mae came and kneeled down next to you feeling your forehead,

“She’s too hot, get a towel and some ice water quick!” she shouts,

Tommy immediately obeys and runs to the kitchen grabbing the requested items, when he brought them back to where Luda Mae was, she quickly splashed water on your face and fanned your skin to cool you quicker. Tommy stood over you and had his hands up holding the back of his neck, he was so scared to lose the only friend he was able to make that it was making him sweat. With one more splash of cold water, you were able to get the energy to open your eyes to see a blurry Luda Mae and Tommy looming over you.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened” your voice was weak.

Luda Mae was smiling and happily shaking her hands upward in relief,

“Seems the heat got the best of you, gotta be careful in this weather hun”

You started to wake more, feeling a bit cold from all the water that was splashed on you,

“I really underestimated how strong the sun is out here, I just got so dizzy and weak” you explain,

“Well, yer lucky my boy was out there to collect you before blacking out” Luda Mae looks up at Tommy who was now relaxed with relief.

You feel embarrassed, “Oh god, I’m so sorry I scared you all. I think I need to go buy a hat and some UV protection”

You felt really badly for making them scared, you try to sit up but are still too weak to move and you slump back down. Luda Mae puts her hand on your arm and says,

“Don’t try to get up hun, you should rest here for a bit. Stay for lunch, I have some really moist chicken cookin’ up in the oven”

You feel so weak and tired from the heat so you agree to stay and rest, Luda Mae gets up,

“Don’t you move from there sweetheart; I’ll get you some cold water to drink.”

You respond “I really appreciate your kindness. I was actually on my way over here to ask about getting some eggs until I fainted”

“Ok hun, you just lay down there and try to rest some, you’ll be tired for a while. I’ll get you some eggs before you leave sweetheart.” Luda Mae walks toward the kitchen but turns and says “Tommy, you make sure to keep an eye on her now” she whisks off to the kitchen to get you the water.

Tommy goes and sits on a nearby chair that he barely fits in, he watches you with his chin resting on his hands. You look over at him, he is wearing a pair of really ragged jeans with work boots and only a dirt-stained white tank top. His skin was glistening with a layer of sweat and he stared back at you with his deep blue eyes, his hair was wet and tousled from rushing around, his mask still hid his face. He looked so good; you think about how easily he lifted your body and ran full speed with you in his arms.

“Thomas?” you speak softly, he lifts his head and sits up straight,

You continue “Thank you for saving me, I need to find a way to repay you.”

Tommy’s eyes widen and he shakes his head as he motions his hands downward to signify you needn’t worry about it. -he is so humble- you press on,

“You are such an amazing man, strong, kind, and humble. I just want you to know that I really appreciate having someone like you looking out for me, I haven’t felt safe like that in a long time… in your arms.”

You turn over to try and get comfortable, Tommy was taken aback by what you had said to him, you never fail to make him feel special. He shifted in his chair and rested his head on his raised hand watching you with a smile under his mask.

Luda Mae came back in and placed the water next to you, then she looked over at Tommy who was watching you in a haze of endearment.

She lets out a chuckle “You’re such a good boy, you make sure to get her whatever she asks for. Don’t mind your chores neither, I’ll get Charlie to finish ‘em.”

Luda Mae could tell he had feelings for you, and she would do anything in her power to get you two closer. In her eyes there was no one worthy enough for her boy, until you came, she saw how much empathy you had and how polite you were to everyone it was like you were a missing family member.

A few hours passed and you were woken up by a sweet voice calling your name, Luda Mae was leaning over you and gently placed her hand on your shoulder. You turned over to face her and she smiled saying,

“Lunch’ll be ready in five minutes hun, I just wanted you to be able to wake up slowly. Come on out to the porch when you’re good n’ ready, don’t you go n’ rush yourself now.”

Luda Mae walked off and you looked over to the chair and see Tommy still sitting there watching over you, as you start to sit up, he gets up and moves closer in case you struggle, you raise your hand and say,

“Don’t worry I’m ok, I feel way better actually, it’s as if I never got sick to begin with.”

He waits and watches you slowly place your feet on the floor, you begin to stand slowly but your knee muscles failed to clench and you fall, Tommy lunges forward and prevents you from hitting the floor by holding your waist, you look up at his face which was so close to yours and made you blush feeling butterflies tie a knot in your core; He gives you a concerned look but you are just frozen like a deer in headlights looking at his expressive eyes. He slowly raises you up to your feet as if you were a doll, he didn’t break eye contact and you felt light as air. He loosened his grip on your body and you snapped out of it,

“Sorry, I didn’t realize my muscles also needed to wake up” you let out an embarrassed giggle.

You were able to stand normally, and take a few steps successfully so you tell Tommy you are ok now and he takes his hands away from your waist but follows closely behind you as you make your way to the porch where Luda Mae had a table set and some spiced chicken laid out near a bunch of potatoes and some salad. Tommy pulls out your chair for you to sit in and makes his way over to the barn to relieve Charlie. Luda Mae comes out from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and smiles at you saying,

“How’re you feelin’ hun?”

You smile at her and respond “I’m feeling way better now thanks to you and Thomas, I really appreciate the care and this amazing lunch too, I couldn’t ask for better neighbors.”

Luda Mae laughs and pours you a cup of lemonade,

“Oh hun, that’s so sweet of you to say. It’s nothing I’m sure you wouldn’t do for us if the situation was switched.”

You reply hurriedly “Of course I would help if you guys needed it, no question! I just want you to know I’m grateful to have people who care about me in my life.”

“Well, were grateful to have someone like you around who treats my boy right. We all really like you, Thomas especially; He was so worried about you that he didn’t move an inch the whole time you rested.” Luda Mae took a seat and placed some chicken on your plate.

Charlie comes over to the table to sit down, he shoots a glare at you and says, “Girly, you better not get weak to the sun again, I aint in the mood to do that lunkheads work while he sits and watches you with goo-goo eyes.” He smirks and gives you a wink then begins to eat his lunch. Luda Mae stares at him with an annoyed expression and follows up,

“Don’t get snippy with her, I made Thomas watch her in case she got sick or needed help. Besides, you needed a good bit of work what with how lazy you been lately.”

Charlie gasps “You old bat! Y’know how hard it is to work in this heat? I’m too old now, I don’t need to be trudgin’ about the farm when Tommy’s strong enough to do the work of ten men.”

He continues to eat his lunch and Luda Mae just rolls her eyes “You’re welcome for lunch” she said sarcastically, Charlie just nods and gives a thumbs up.

You look around for Tommy to come eat but he is still in the barn, you ask “Isn’t Thomas going to come eat? He must be pretty hungry.”

Charlie looks at you and responds “He can’t eat the way he wants to with you ‘round here.”

You give him a confused look, Luda Mae adds,

“Don’t worry hun, he’ll get a big lunch later after he walks you home when you’re ready to get going.” Luda Mae gets a big smile on her face and continues, “Would you like to stay for dinner sweetheart? I love having you around, it’s nice having another lady in the house.” She gives Charlie a dirty look.

“That’s extremely generous of you Luda Mae, but I need to get going. I still have more to repair in the house and I want to decide on a paint color to freshen up the place.” You look over to Charlie and ask “What do you mean he can’t eat the way he wants to? He ate dinner in front of me before.”

He looks back at you and says “Y’think he wears a mask for fun sweet thing?” you shake your head and he continues “He’s hidin’ some real ugly under there“-

“You shut your mouth Charlie, you make everything so impolite!” she looks over to you and explains “Thomas had a really bad skin condition when he was a youngin’, it got real bad and we couldn’t get help until it took its toll on his face, the poor baby. He has a bit of a… different face now”

Charlie laughs and adds “Oh for fucks sake Luda, the boy barely has skin left to hide his teeth, he looks like a damn monster without the mask. You baby him like he’s a newborn lamb, last time I checked he’s a fuckin’ mountain!” He looks over at you while crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk “I bet you don’t care much how he looks underneath, don’t ya girly? You probably like monsters”

You blush and look at your plate, he wasn’t wrong, Tommy could have a frightening face and you would still have a crush on him.

“Yeah, look at her, she’s blushin’ like a schoolgirl.” Charlie gets up and takes his empty plate over to the kitchen but passes by you and quietly speaks in your ear “Be careful sweety, he really is a monster.”

Luda Mae whacks him with her kitchen towel and he scurries away laughing. She turns to you and apologizes,

“I’m so sorry about him, he’s incapable of behavin’ himself.” She sits back down and says, “Thomas is very handsome, his face underneath is just fine, it’s just a tiny bit scarred that’s all.”

You could barely hear her, your head was swimming with thoughts of Tommy being violent or dangerous like a monster -what did he mean when he said Tommy really is a monster?- The thought of Tommy being like a barely tamed wild animal who could break at any moment was frightening while also being strangely arousing. He was so gentle with you, he didn’t seem like the type to actively go out of his way to hurt someone but then again, you have been wrong about men before.

You ate the rest of your lunch and got up from your chair, Luda Mae got up from hers and said,

“You headin’ on your way now?” you nod and she adds, “Well wait there and let me get those eggs in a cloth for Thomas to hold when he walks you back home.”

You quickly respond “Oh, there’s no need for him to walk me home I’ll be fine, there’s already some clouds over the sun so its way cooler.”

Luda Mae gives you a look of dismissal, “Hun, I’d feel very badly if you got hurt or sick on your way back and there was no one to help you. Never you mind it being trouble.”

She walked toward the kitchen and you head over to the barn where Tommy was finishing his work, he was lifting hay bales into a storage area effortlessly. His huge muscles flexed every time he lifted a bale, and you couldn’t help but just stand there and watch this massive powerhouse sweat and grunt as he worked.

Luda Mae came with a folded cloth that had well over a dozen eggs, in it and called over to Tommy,

“Thomas, you’re going to walk *Y/N* back home. Carry the eggs I gave her and make sure she doesn’t fall.”

Luda Mae smiled and gave you a hug goodbye, Tommy walked over and grabbed the eggs and waited for you to start walking. You thank Luda Mae and make your way down the driveway with Tommy by your side. While on the road, Tommy made sure you walked in his shadow so that the sun couldn’t beat down on you again, you look up at him and you see his eyes squish up meaning he’s smiling under his mask.

“Thanks for walking me home Tommy. You know, I actually really like walking with you, it feels peaceful and safe.”

Tommy was happy to hear you shared his enjoyment, he liked having someone to look out for and protect, it was a nice change from his sordid history of slaughtering people which was something he never liked to do despite being good at it. All he knew was that he didn’t want to ever lose you, his life felt like it had more meaning with you around, as if the dark clouds of his mind were lifted. You were unlike anyone he had ever met and he would do anything for you, he wished he could tell you that.

You both arrived at your door and you took the eggs from him and stood still for a second, Tommy leaned over a bit to look at your face, he wondered why you paused quietly. You placed the eggs gently on the ground and gave Tommy a hug, he was so big you couldn’t even get close to touching your hands together. Tommy was in shock, he didn’t expect you to do that, but he welcomed the hug and closed his massive arms around your back and held you. He was still a bit damp from working and sweating in the heat, but he didn’t smell bad, he smelled like earth, and a musk that was like a spell being put on you. Normally most guys would smell terrible from hard labor, but Tommy smelled intoxicatingly good to you. He let out a relaxed sigh and leaned into you more,

“You really did save my life today, thank you again for being there for me.” You wanted to tell him how strongly you felt about him, but thanking him would be enough for now.

You loosen your hug and he lets you out of his arms gently, you add,

“I better let you go, you still haven’t eaten your lunch yet and I bet you’re really hungry.”

You smile at him and get another once-over on his appearance before he turns to leave. You never felt this way about someone before, he was like an enigma that invaded your thoughts all day every day, but you didn’t mind that. You wanted so desperately to know more about him, and now that you have his scent in your mind, you wanted more of that too. You remember hearing his voice when you were weak in his arms today, he called out for his mom with such a deep intensity, he had a powerful voice and you hope that one day he would be able to speak with you and say your name.

The day moved quickly and you were so tired from the heat that you skipped dinner and repairs and went straight to bed. You wished you could sleep with Tommy in the room again, you would sleep so well feeling so safe with him, but all you could do now was rest and dream of him.

Next chapter-

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh

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vampiresforvergil · 11 months

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That's all I could muster up in those art block times (this song makes me cry and so do they)

#devil may cry #dmc fanart #dmc vergil #dmc5 vergil #dmc5 dante #dante sparda #vergil sparda #do not tag as ship #my art #artists on tumblr #vergil devil may cry #vergil dmc #vergil art #dante art

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metaknightsptsd · 5 months

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through severe and dreadful art block the colorless king is all i could muster

#kirby #kirby series #kirby fanart #king dedede #the among us drawing tut was a success #gif #no wonder meta fell for this guy

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duckiemimi · 8 months

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this was submitted as a submission! i kept their username hidden just in case they wanted their privacy! also, a heads up—i’ll be talking about death and ideation here.

what is a punishment for a monster?

this’ll be a little soft and embarrassing, but who am i if not soft and embarrassing? i think that’s a good thing. i hope you think so, too.

“punishment for a monster” is a very personal story to me. to this day, i’m not quite sure what prompted me to write it. i can’t really pinpoint a specific event in my life that inspired the structure and the story, but i do know that it felt like a long, overdue hug. it felt it was waiting for me, too.

you ask how i came up with the concept.

if i could pick out a more concrete moment of inspiration, it would be after watching Mike Flanagan’s “Haunting of Hill House”! i won’t spoil you too much,

***(skip this part if you’d rather watch it first!)***

but there’s a character in the show who goes around talking to his dead wife on an every day basis, like she’s there but not really there. at first, we’re led to believe that it’s a classic case of a haunting, like the title implies. by the end of the story, it becomes less clear, more murky. it seemed to me like he kept holding onto the memories of her, like he’d built a moving image of his late wife with every moment of her he could remember. so, yeah: she was there, but not really there. memories are building blocks, i think.

***(spoiler over; you’re good!)***

i’ve always had an interest in death and the afterlife, what it means for the people who keep going and what it means for the people who rest. it’s not particularly religious in nature; hell, i’d consider myself far from religious. i don’t know. i guess i wanted to know why some circles close and why circles don’t. why does the pen stop moving?

my cousin died earlier during the pandemic, and it was also during the time i was put on watch. actually, i think i wanted to go before she actually went. i’m older than her, but i guess that didn’t really mean anything in the end. i’ll always be older. and anyway, it’s selfish to want to go when someone’s already on their way, isn’t it?

in my culture, when people die, sometimes they come back as dreams. they’d come back one last time to say goodbye, and that’s when you know they’re happier. i never saw my cousin in my dreams. i guess i wouldn’t call us close. i hope she visited my sister, though. she wouldn’t tell me, but i don’t pry. it’s something between them only.

you ask about the title.

i’ll be honest, i didn’t really know what to title the story. pinterest is a treasure trove of ideas. all i knew was that it had to be a quote about “punishment.”

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms—and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

that’s the full quote from a book titled “The Wrath and the Dawn” by Renee Ahdieh. i’ve never read the book before. i’m sure it’s beautiful, and i know that even by this one line. maybe i’ll read it some day.

it’s a sweet irony, i think, to title a story about healing and second chances “punishment for a monster”, to title a story about forgiveness and metamorphosis something so punitive and cruel. but i guess it works in both geto and gojo’s cases. who is the monster here? who is being punished? but i think people can change. i think love transmutes.

you ask if i was as broken as you as you read it.

well, maybe. i tend to realize things in hindsight. at the time, i was only focused on geto and gojo, where to put my commas and spaces, what words to use to talk about loss. i only realized later on that i’ve typed up most of me into it, too. but isn’t that all art? isn’t art just a giant portrait of who we are at the time? i’m rewriting “honesty corner” and i considered rewriting “punishment for a monster”, but i think i want to keep that picture of me from then. if i ever muster up the courage to read it again, it’ll be like looking through a photo album.

i would write more of how i conceptualized geto and gojo in the story, but i think we’ve connected well enough for you to know what i meant. i read every single comment and so many of you have such personal tethers to the story. i won’t get in your way; you deserve to mourn the way you want, too. and anyway, grief is never-ending. it’s a lifetime thing and it isn’t always linear, and though you carry it for life, it doesn’t define you. love defines you.

(though you could say grief is an extension of love. how’s that poem go again? grief is love in a heavy coat?)

thank you so much for liking a story i wrote of my two favorite characters. i don’t think life is made up of straight lines. one day, when we’re both ready, let’s have some clementines at the table.

#punishment for a monster #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #submissions #clementines at the table

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