#i miss when i could make more detailed art more often sigh

[ping-ski]

usually i dont draw Sun's individual rays for simplicity + its quick n' easy!! tho when i do draw him more detailed... hello sailor

sadly i can't put all my time into crazy lineart/rendering as often cause i have carpal tunnel in both wrists and chronic pain everywhere else!! 😎👍

[cowgurrrl]

Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy. 

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period. 

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business." 

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look. 

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room. 

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box. 

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod. 

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day." 

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class." 

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is." 

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?" 

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile. 

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say. 

"You said that already." 

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that." 

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers." 

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers." 

"Well, I find that hard to believe." 

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?" 

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh. 

"How long has it been doin' that?" 

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods. 

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it." 

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip. 

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you." 

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out. 

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy. 

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece. 

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment. 

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand. 

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated." 

"That was me in college." 

"Now, I don't believe that for a second." 

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher." 

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox. 

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong. 

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him. 

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run." 

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something." 

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip. 

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts. 

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event. 

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her. 

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself. 

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh. 

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too." 

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise." 

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl." 

"Well, thank you. I owe you." 

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector." 

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around." 

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake. 

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to. 

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line. 

Simply, "When can I start -E." 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[seuonji]

彡 miss miss miss you!

notes ๑ what they do when they miss you. (long distance! they’re on tour.)

genre ๑ fluff

warnings ๑ use of pet names otherwise, non.

word count ๑ 1k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated<3

what’s to miss when he’s calling you all the time? like if he’s not on stage or practicing or with the members, he’s probably on the phone with you!

seungcheol…ring

“ynnie,” he whispered.

“hiding out in a random room again i see?” he’d been going to any enclosed space he can do that the members wouldn’t see or hear him calling you.

“just wanted to talk to you! besides i told the members to take five.”

“yeah but i’m pretty sure you told the members to take five like what, five minutes ago?”

“why’re you being like that? should i end the call?” he pouted.

“tell me what you’ve been up to honey,” you laughed and sighed.

calling you is more of a way of recharging than a slacking off type of situation.

—

joshua…ring ring

“shua?” you called out confused.

“ynn!” he yawns.

it was nighttime but he had to hear your voice.

“what’s up?”

“tell me about your day love.”

he’d eventually fall asleep and he’d apologise about it the next morning but frankly you find it cute.

—

soonyoung, seokmin…ring ring ring

“ynnn.”

“this is the third time you’ve called me today.”

“i missed you!”

“is that so!”

would turn into a long conversation filled with the smallest details of things you did between the time you stopped calling him and now. it’s like filling in a new diary.

+

he sends you things throughout the day everytime he misses you. especially between breaks he’d send you a post or a picture which was like a way of notifying you he’s free so you two could have a conversation.

jeonghan, jun loves sending you pictures of his sceneries along with a caption of what was happening in the photo. in a way he makes you feel like he’s with him. later on when you’re with him and he talks about it, it doesn’t feel too foreign or you won’t get confused.

jun would also send you the most out of context photos like one time he sent you a picture of him picking his nose. it was very insightful at the very least.

—

minghao, vernon sends you posts from his feed. it’s usually posts that reminds you of him. cause range from an art piece from a museum to a picture of a crocodile, no in between.

—

seungkwan often send sends you memes— he actually did the “updating you everything every second” thing for. awhile but eventually got fed up with it and he just tells you all about it when he gets back home.

you both facetime alot and people can tell when you’re calling each other cause it’s so much banter.

+

he misses you every second but he’s really not the type to just spontaneously call you. he usually leaves calling you for the end of the day so in the meantime, he usually scrolls through your social media’s for awhile. but eventually, he sends a text when he realised he seriously misses conversing with you. he wonders what took so long for him to initiate a conversation.

mingyu only held back so long cause you teased him for being clingy like a dog. turns out it was try cause he kept thinking about booking a plane ticket but that would definitely have heads turning.

jihoon, you didn’t even know that man uses social media like that man uses instagram as a catalogue?? nut he likes to see if you’re free or what you’re up to through social media. when you seem free, he’s finally send a text.

calls with jihoon last super long, as long as there’s a topic you can go on for hours but the calls are especially long due to you two falling asleep amidst the call.

+

if he misses you, all the more he avoids texting or calling cause he doesn’t want the feeling to fester. when he feels, he feels hard. he doesn’t do well with distance

wonwoo found it weird. he always liked being by himself but since he met you, he always wants to be around you and that became him norm. but when tour came around, he thought it would be normal, he’s been through tours multiple times but he could feel something was missing as he was sleeping in a king sized bed alone.

he realised it wasn’t a good feeling so he tried to avoid texting you too much cause that would only add on to the fact he misses you.

but it all falters when you called him one night. and that moment felt like bliss. the heavy feelings he had over you disappeared and he got used to the distance. anyways, it was only temporary.

—

chan wasn’t clingy per se but he was used to having you around. he so when tour came around and he felt desolate with the fact you weren’t in his vicinity, he tried to push those feelings away.

he tries to distanced himself in an attempt to get yiud to not being there. he honestly disliked the dependence he had on you.

but it didn’t matter anymore after you called him. he missed your voice, your laugh. he wasn’t embarrassed to admit he misses you, it was just unfortunate he had to wait to see you.

[mokokone]

Hello!

Can you do a Kusuriuri x Kitsune! Fem! Reader. Where the reader loves to tease him and prank him.

Thank you <3 ❤️

Author's preface: Kitsunes are known for their mischievous nature and love of playing tricks on humans. These mythical creatures have the ability to shape-shift into different forms, often using their powers to deceive unsuspecting individuals. Despite their playful antics, kitsunes are also seen as wise and intelligent beings in Japanese folklore. Their cunning ways make them both feared and respected in traditional stories and legends.

Word Count: 1196

Trickster [Medicine Seller/Kusuriuri x FemKitsune!Resder]

Kusuriuri stood, pondering for a moment. His piercing cerulean gaze scanned the room, taking in every detail.

Something was amiss.

His Akumabarai (exorcism) sword was missing. He could have sworn he left it sitting on the coffee table.

Surely, the small blade couldn't have flown away. Every corner and crevice was scrutinized, but the sword was nowhere to be found. Kusuriuri's mind raced with questions—who could have taken it? And for what nefarious purpose?

"(Y/n)?" He suddenly called.

 After a moment, a young female poked her head through the shoji. Her hair was a beautiful color of (h/c), falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Her eyes, a vibrant shade of (e/c), sparkled with curiosity. However, the most unique thing about her appearance was that she had fox ears and a bushy fox tail.

Her fox ears twitched slightly as she looked at her master with a sense of curiosity.

"Yes, what is it, master?" You asked.

"Have you seen my sword?" Kusuriuri asked you as you stepped into the room, watching his eyes scan the space in search of the missing weapon.

"No... Why?" you inquired, feigning innocence as you tried to suppress a mischievous grin.

In truth, you knew exactly where it was. After all, you were the one who hid it, as well as a few other items of his.

Though you didn't really have a good reason for doing so, you were just bored and thought it'd be funny to see how long it would take him to notice.

As you watched him search, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for playing this prank on him.

"Hmm, I can’t find it.” He tossed the pillow he had been looking under back down on the sofa. "I'm also missing several of my ofuda as well as some incense from my medicine box." He adds.

“Really? How strange..." You say, hiding a smirk. "Well, I'm sure it'll turn up soon, master.” you tell him before turning on your geta to leave.

“Hopefully...” You hear him murmur, unaware that he had watched you leave.

“Where? Where is it?”

. . . . .

Later that evening, you heard your master sigh in frustration. There was no doubt he was starting to lose his patience.

You poke your head in the doorway again. “What is it now?” You wondered which item he was looking for now.

But, you knew.

Not long after you hid his sword, you also took and hidden his Shunga (Japanese erotic art) picture book.

“Now, I can't find my Shunga magazine,” he answered.

You couldn't help but grimace. “Why do you even look at such gross things?” you scoffed. "It's just a book filled with gross images of women having intercourse with gross men."

Kusuriuri snorts. “Ha, it's entertaining.”

'You ought to be glad I didn't burn it instead of hiding it, you pervert,' you inwardly thought to yourself before giving a smile.

“You've been misplacing a lot of your stuff lately, master," you teased. "I never thought you'd be so irresponsible with your things."

"I am not, my dear," he protested. "I am very responsible. I need my Akumabarai sword and ofuda to fight against malevolent mononoke. I would never be so careless as to lose such important items," He huffs.

"It’s like my stuff is just...disappearing. Almost as if someone has taken them." He adds.

You almost felt a shiver run down your spine when he catches your gaze and could only hope he didn't know. Nevertheless, you shook it off and opted to tease him some more.

"Aww, poor master," you fake-sympathize, a mischievous glint in your eye as you watch him sulk his shoulders. "Perhaps your things have had enough of you and just ran away," you snicker.

"Haha, very funny," he chides. "Look, if you're not going to help, then just go away."

You pout. "Rude!" You stuck your tongue out at him before leaving.

You failed to notice the angry red mark on Kusuriuri's head as blue eyes eyed you both skeptically and intently.

. . . . .

That night, you decided to keep the prank going. Once you made sure Kusuriuri was out of sight, you snuck into his room and opened his medicine box. This time you were going to take and hide one of his Kenshutsu (scales).

You hurried down the engawa to hide it in the garden under a rock. However, before you could, you yelped upon feeling a hand grab your tail.

“Where are you off to, (Y/n)?” Kusuriuri asked.

You sweated nervously, attempting to hide the kenshutsu inside your kimono before turning to face him.

“Um...n-nowhere, master,” You stammered.

Kusuriuri eyed you suspiciously. "Was that one of my kenshutsu?" He asked. "And were you about to hide it in the garden?"

“W-what? N-no way…” You lied, giving him an innocent look.

However, Kusuriuri saw through your lie. After all, he too knows how feels to be a sly fox.

"So, it was you all along," he said, his tone accusatory.

Welp, now you’re caught red-handed! You’re toast. It was nice while it lasted. You didn’t even try to plead your innocence; you just grinned warily at him with a nervous chuckle.

“You little minx,” He quickly pulled you forward, making you shriek as he then grabbed your sides.

“K-Kusuriuri, I mean, master, wait! No, please, I can explain!” You cry out.

Kusuriuri was merciless as he started tickling you, his fingers digging into your sides, making you squeal.

"This is what you get for hiding my stuff." He smiled menacingly.

You doubled over, trying desperately to get away from him. “Ahhhaaahaa, I'm sorry! P-please, have mercy! Hahahahaha~!”

“Tell me where you put everything and I'll let up," he demanded.

“Ack! I’m sorry!”

"Sorry doesn't tell me where you hid my things,” Kusuriuri said, now switching to tickling you under your arms.

With that, you completely lost it! It was painful as you squealed and tried to push him away. You're the one who got yourself into this mess, so you had no choice but to come clean.

“Fine! Your sword is in the kitchen cabinet, and your Shunga magazine is inside the hallow of the cherry blossom tree outside." You confessed, desperate for your torture to cease.

“And?” He prompted, tickling your tummy.

Your laughter was so loud and desperate now that tears were beginning to leak from your eyes. "A-and I promise not to take your stuff without permission. I-I..AHaha..was just bored.”

Kusuriuri's expression soften. He was pleased that you finally came clean as he finally stopped tickling you, much to your absolute relief. But he still opted to tease you.

“Good girl."

Jerk.

Your face was flushed from laughing in pain as you glared daggers at him.

"I'll forgive you this time, but no more pranks, ok?"

You stuck out your tongue at him. “You suck, master Kusuriuri.”

He merely shrugged his shoulders as he walked off to retrieve his stuff. “Not my fault. You deserved it,” he said, but then stopped and glanced back at you.

"Y'know, if you ever get bored again, feel free to come to me. I'm always up for some fun.♡" He smirks devilishly while winking at you.

It took you awhile, but you quickly caught on of what it is he's implying as your face flushed red.

[yxstxrdrxxm]

SYNOPSIS: Tattooing is a work of art. Though, he definitely saw that it can also be used as more than an art medium itself.

TW/s: yandere behavior, abstract/drabble writing, protective Xiao, he’s a dumbass but its okay, nsfw tws include targeted by the dark web, graphic depictions of violence, near abduction, stalking + sexual harassment. Please proceed with caution.

NOTE FROM HR: Happy Valentine’s Day! It would seem that today just isn't working out for you, is it, miss Ana? Well, never fear! I’m sure our lovely tattoo artist has something to help you with that… Right?

“You’re back.”

That was the first thing that Ana heard from her tattoo artist, Xiao, speak at 1 in the afternoon— a weird time, considering he wasn’t aware she had an appointment booked with him.

“Are you here for a tattoo?” he asked her, making her shake her head. Carrying the food she bought for him, he placed it on the counter, noting the small shift of expression on his face as he caught a whiff of something faintly sweet in the packaging.

“No, but I’m sure you’ve been working for hours on end,” she said, tapping on top of the package. “Here, eat up. I made sure to buy almond tofu for you.”

Now, for those who may be wondering, just how can the reclusive tattoo artist be with a date that’s the clear opposite of his personality?

It was a long story, which started from the very beginning when they matched up in the app.

Xiao isn’t the type to choose anyone on a whim. He has standards, and for him, many others failed to fit those standards. It was also obvious when he saw Ana’s, but instead of scrolling past and ignoring her, he took his time to look into what she wrote. He didn’t want to write her off just yet.

The next thing he knew, he swiped right with her and began to talk to her in the app.

Their conversation topics were all random at first: general get to know questions, their experiences, and even bits of what the two like. The two clicked on what they both liked listening to, which artists they enjoy the most, and even a few preferences for both to tune into. He did suggest a few that lean into crime podcasts, since he tends to listen to them often while he worked on tattooing his clients. Perhaps it was a strange preference, but she didn’t see it that way.

It wasn’t even long until they began to discuss matters in seeing each other in person, and the first time was because of a tattoo appointment she wanted on her arm.

“So, you want this tattoo placed… Here. Am I right?” “Mhm. Do you think you can do it? My friends had said that you were a good tattoo artist, so I wanted to be sure that it’s something you can do.”

The two were sitting at his office as Xiao was looking at the image, examining the tattoo design she wanted him to put on her. The design wasn’t all that complicated, but he knew he could add something to make it pop out easily, and especially with the detailing of her tattoo choice.

“... I can,” he answered, closing the folder as he faced her again. “However, you must pay upfront. I need to get the materials and equipment needed in our next appointment for this type of tattoo on Friday.”

He watched her nod as she handed him the payment, his hand drifting over to grab it and check how much she paid. It was enough for what she wanted, with an additional $20. Raising an eyebrow, he looked over at her and grabbed it, handing it back to his client.

“No need to give me extra,” he told her, sighing. “It’ll be a waste.”

“Oh? Well…”

He could already hear what she planned on telling him. He should take it anyway as she felt bad, or that it’s not right to not tip someone for their services, or—

“... I’ll take it back, then. Thank you again, Xiao. it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

—!

Xiao seemed to be caught off-guard at the turn it took, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second, but it left as quickly as it did. Regaining his composure, he nodded and simply stood up to lead her out of the shop.

“If you need anything from me, you know my number,” he told her, his amber eyes shifting away for a moment. “... And if you want to go on a date, call me.”

It was strange. He’s not used to romance, and Zhongli had all but taught him how. He wanted to say that he had the confidence like that old man has, but he’s still learning. And Gods, he’s unable to even comprehend how social interaction and cues work.

Still, he did hear her laugh and feel a gentle warmth on his shoulder.

It felt nice.

“Of course! For now, I need to go and meet my friends this afternoon. Goodbye, Xiao.”

As the warmth left his shoulder, he finally raised his head to watch the lady exit, his eyes drifting to her while he recalled the expression she wore in front of him.

Such a gentle smile, unwavering and confident. He had always admired those who could do it without a single moment of hesitation, and sometimes, he found himself loathing that he couldn’t do the same. To be able to smile and look onwards, like nothing was bothering them in the first place.

He sighed and raised a hand to sift through his hair. The bitter feeling rising in him was something he disliked, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame it on her.

It was their first meeting, and it was one that Xiao remembered well.

How ironic, considering the next ones were as eventful as the first, if not even more than anything he’s endured.

The second time this happened was when he was on one of the first few dates with Ana. The two were surprisingly able to her friends commenting on how she found someone and kept it a secret from them.

He didn't like to make their relationship known, and there was a good reason why— he hated to have them find out he has someone he tolerated better than others.

Even if it was just a simple drunkard. Or two.

Point is, it happened. While Xiao was dealing with her friends asking him about his occupation, he caught wind of Ana getting involved and being harassed by one of the older men that are obviously wasted. She was trying to tell them to stop bothering her, but it seems they weren't paying much attention and even touched her in areas that can warrant sexual harassment.

“C'mon, pretty girl, why don't—”

“Move. She's my fiance.”

The drunkard looked over at Xiao, his eyes narrowed as he noticed that he was one of the clients he tattooed years ago. He scowled at the sorry state he was in— the man had a job as a republican, but one too many scandals led him jobless.

Hmph. I'm glad I managed to tattoo him with that before then.

“Yours? Pfft, do you have anything that makes her yours, little boy?”

Xiao scoffed.

“That ring she's wearing. I gave that to her.”

Complete and utter lie, he knows Ana had it since the day they met. Though, the ring was placed on her ring finger…

“You're harassing my girl. If you don't move, I'll get security,” he warned, walking closer to Ana to gently hold her hand. “And you wouldn't like getting kicked out again, would you?”

The ex-republican scoffed but he slunk away, and the two watched as the others jeered and called out to the republican figure for what he's done.

How annoying.

“I didn't know you'd say that out of all things.”

Xiao's head whipped towards Ana. It was clear from the way she said it that it was meant to be seen as light-hearted, but from the tense moment they had, he was struggling to process it.

…

He scoffed and let her hand go.

“He won't back out otherwise.”

And he knew he wouldn't. No one would.

“How many people have you tattooed with that mark?”

“I don't know.”

“Oh, but you do. People tell me that the victims went to you to get tattooed and died after a few days!”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit.”

Xiao isn't fond of dealing with people. He didn't even bother hiding that fact, since he disliked meaningless drivel with some of them. What he hates is when they become overconfident with knowing what he didn't.

It was a big deal to them, but to the artist, he found it more of a joke. An impractical, unfunny joke. He'd rather listen to one of his co workers explain it and ruin it than this.

“A load of— listen to me, sir,” he spat, jabbing at his chest. It would've been intimidating if Xiao didn't think it was a bit childish, “I work with the agency. We're trying to figure out what the hell is happening, and if you don't say shit, I'll tell them you're that famed serial killer going on the loose!”

…

“Seriously?”

Xiao sighed.

Such is the way of being an idiot, he thinks. It's no wonder I don't bother tattooing people on a walk-in appointment.

“Wh— are you doubting my credibility?!”

“Not when you're harassing me.”

Watching him get annoyed, he saw the man out, watching as a certain someone came to the shop. Seeing the man storm off, he watched Ana raise her eyebrow at Xiao; a silent question, it seems.

What happened? He can read from her expression. Though, this made Xiao sigh and turn his head to the shop.

Come inside. That is what he was trying to say by his body language.

And she did.

It wasn't long until the two were talking about the incident: Ana had to hear Xiao explain briefly of the accusations he's given, what he replied due to the lack of evidence, and the childish fit that the reporter had to leave.

Still, that looming threat was never something he can let go of, nor he can't stop pondering about. Maybe it's just him, but there have been moments when that came to light.

… Or nearly, anyway.

“I see… Well, they're definitely too nosy for their own good.”

“Mhm,” he answered, cleaning up the pen he used for tattooing. “Anyway, are you here for your appointment?”

“Oh! Yes, I am. I want you to tattoo my arm.”

Retrieving the paper detailing her tattoo, she handed it to him. Examining what it looks, he simply raised an eyebrow.

Granted, the tattoo is simplistic— he can make do with outlining the bird like it was a constellation. It wasn't something he would suck at. However, the bird she chose was a phoenix.

Interesting metaphor. Though, he's simply curious on what drove her to choose such an interesting thing to be on her arm.

“... Hm. Alright. I can do it.”

Placing it down, he began to prepare the tools and lead her to take a seat on the chair. Pulling on the lever, he adjusted it so that she was facing up and he pulled up the arm that she wanted it on.

It wasn't long until the soft thrumming of the tattoo gun echoed as he worked on the tattoo, following each and every step of the stencil down to its smallest details. Sure, Ana and him conversed while he worked, but he remained silent to focus on doing the tattoo.

Silence was a comfortable thing for him, and sometimes, he can see it be a comfortable thing for her, too.

It did take hours until he was done with the tattoo, and although he had half of his mind to add that mark, he added something else that’s tied to him. Right by the wing had 保护 written on it, each line and curve made as accurately as one could with writing a different language.

It was different from the ones he’d do. And he made sure to keep it that way.

“There. It’s done.”

He observed how Ana’s eyes would trail over at the tattoo, moving as she examined it in great detail. He was one of the best tattoo artists she could ever find, but he knew she saw that print on the wing, too.

It was just a relief that she didn’t bother to ask.

“Since it’s your first time getting a tattoo, you can have this,” he added, grabbing a bag full of supplies with an addition he left there for her. “It’ll help when your skin gets irritated with the ink. Others had that happen to them.”

“Really? Well, I’ll use them if that happens.”

“Good.”

His amber eyes flickered from the tattoo gun and towards the bag, catching the gleam of turquoise peeking from inside.

It was convenient that he placed that thing in her bag.

Now, he had an even bigger reason to do what he had to do to those that dare to mess with what’s his.

“I didn’t know you’d come back to stalk her,” the tattoo artist commented coldly, his heels digging into the wound on the reporter’s side. “I’m surprised. Seems like you have the audacity to try again to ‘frame’ me yourself.”

He hardly cared for the amount of blood he spilt. For the tattoo artist, having to make someone be worried in his shop was more than enough to gun for the culprit.

“Tell me. Were you going to abduct her?”

The reporter had the audacity to laugh at his face, the pain sending his mind to overdrive. Scowling, he dug in deeper, feeling his patience wear thin. He hated to delay what could hurt his lo— friend, he had to correct himself. He didn’t want those people to get to her.

“W-What’s it to you? I thought—”

“I’m not involved, but that’s my friend, you garbage.”

With another dig at the wound and his gun loaded, he aimed it at his other leg. He was already sure that she would wind herself in danger because of what he’s done, so he needed to be swift if he wanted to reach Ana.

He can’t risk losing her. Not to those bastards.

“I’ll ask again. Were you going to abduct her, you vile being?”

Much to his displeasure, the reporter laughed again. Although, he can tell that he wasn’t in the right mind. The expression he wore simply reminded him of those bitter memories he had hid all those years ago in his time at Enkanomiya, and he loathed to see it on another person.

Heaven knows what drove him like this, but he had done something immoral. He needed to do this in return.

…

Yes. He needs to. She’ll die if he doesn’t.

“... Hmph. I suppose you’re no talk and bite.”

Click. BANG.

…

Xiao could vaguely hear the gunshot ring as blood began to pour out onto the pavement, but this time, he felt no guilt for his actions. He knew it was bad, but he could hardly care about what’s on his mind.

Turning around, he grabbed his phone and contacted Ana’s number. He needed to be able to speak to her. He needed to.

…

It rang once.

It rang twice.

It rang far more than that. It continued to ring and ring, amping up Xiao’s worry the longer she didn’t take the call.

And after God knows how long, he heard it click.

“Xiao?”

… She’s fine.

“... Did I wake you up?” he asked her on the phone, his voice lowering its usual volume— possibly due to his relief. “I thought you’d be awake.”

“Mm… Almost, but yeah,” he heard her yawn. “I was… Looking for that guy. Then I fell asleep for, uh… an hour or something.”

…

“Has anyone entered the house?”

“... No. I’m fine. I had it locked, like you told me to.”

Good.

“Say, you sound panicked—”

“I’m fine,” he told her, cutting her off. With a sigh, he looked at the body, then at the phone. “Anyway, I’ll… Leave you alone for the night. I have a few things I need to take care of.”

He’d have to ‘clean’ things up. He can’t let her see it.

No one can ever see the crime he's done.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2024

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 You get a little nervous before the mating ritual. It's a good thing that Mountain is there for you when you need him most.

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Ritual

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Mountain x GN!Reader

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 No spice, just a tiny bit of angst and then a sweet sappy happy ending. There is a brief mention of wanting to be sick. Ritual nerves kind of reflecting anxieties about marriage.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1110 words.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 I struggled with this one ghesties and I'm not all that happy with it, but not all our writing needs to be gold standard Shakespearean level works of art. I don't think I've used any gendered terms or anything for reader, but please let me know if I've missed any! Also I can't believe I have one fic left for Ghosttober, where has all the time gone?! It's moving too quickly hhhhhhhh.

Before Mountain, your time at the ministry had felt a little lacking. You had no complaints, of course, and you loved the life that you’d chosen for yourself, but it felt like there was something missing. It wasn’t until you were put on gardening duty with the earth ghoul in the early spring that you realised what it was that you needed to feel more whole.

He wasn’t introverted like Rain and Sunshine, but Mountain was more on the quiet side of the ghoul spectrum. However, where he was more subdued around the other siblings of sin, he was a little more talkative when it was just you and the other ghouls. Getting to see his personality shine in a smaller group of close friends was what had made you first fall for him, and then as time went on you found more and more reasons to love him. His unending passion for nature and taking care of every plant in Primo’s garden. The way he laughed at all the silly jokes and puns you made even if they weren’t funny in the slightest. How he listened to the little details and showered you with gifts that he thought you’d like. His soothing presence that put you at ease no matter what was happening in your world. He was the armour that kept you grounded and safe, and you were the blessing that allowed him to grow and thrive.

It was a surprise to nobody when you and the ghoul both approached Copia to discuss the mating ritual that all ghouls and their mates performed when they wished to commit themselves to one another for eternity. It wasn’t a ritual that took place often, many ghouls opting to forgo what they felt was an outdated tradition, but it felt like a natural progression for yours and Mountain’s relationship.

Now, on the night of said ritual, your nerves were starting to set in. It hadn’t escaped your mind that this could be considered the equivalent of a wedding and that singular thought was making you want to throw up. It was nothing as formal as a wedding ceremony, but that didn’t stop your anxiety from spiralling. What if your ghoul didn’t show up? What if he did show up but put an end to the ritual because he’d changed his mind and didn’t want to face an eternal life with you? What if it all went well but then you both regretted making such a commitment to one another?

“Petal? Are you in here?”

You cussed quietly and dabbed at your eyes, forcing a smile onto your face. “In here, my love!”

The door clicked open, and it was like your heart jumped into your throat at the sight of him. His top half was bare, save for the earth symbol painted onto his wrists, and his legs were clad in skin-tight black trousers that looked to be tailored specifically to him.

“Belial, you’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he choked out, moving towards you to take your hands in his. The moment his skin touched yours, you felt your worries begin to wash away. However, Mountain immediately noticed that something was amiss and gazed into your eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

You sighed. “Just cold feet. Nothing to be concerned about.”

The ghoul tutted and took hold of your chin so you couldn’t look away form him. “If you feel this is too soon, we don’t have to go through with it. I won’t love you any less if you’re not ready. Papa and the others would understand, and so would I.”

“No, no! God no, I don’t want to put this off any longer. I just…”

“You just?”

You pulled Mountain into a hug and breathed in his earthy, woodsy scent, closing your eyes as his arms wrapped around you.

“I’m scared. I know this isn’t a wedding but –”

“It feels like it is. I get it.” The earth ghoul pressed a kiss to the top of your head and caressed your upper back. “Would it comfort you to know that I’m scared too?”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “You are? You always seem so calm and chill.”

Mountain chuckled and brushed his lips against yours. “I never thought I’d find someone I wanted to do the ritual with. Relationships to me have never needed to be defined or marked in that way, so I never considered the possibility of finding someone I’d want to share that with. But then I met you and it feels right. It feels like the natural next step for us to take, and that excites me more than it scares me.”

You mulled over his words. You knew just from his voice alone that he was being sincere and that allowed the last of your concerns to trickle away from you. This was a step you would both be taking together, and it didn’t have to be a scary one.

“Let’s get this ritual started.”

***

The chapel was dark, lit only by the dim orange glow of the ceremonial candles set out in a circle surrounding you and Mountain. The ghouls sat in the front pews, watching proudly as Copia bound your wrists together with red silk, pressing your wrists together so that your matching earth symbols were touching. However, despite feeling their eyes on you, your beloved earth ghoul was the only one that held your attention. His earth brown eyes never left yours as your Papa recited the ancient words from an old tome.

“Now, as you give your earthly bodies to one another in the name of our Dark Lord Satan, know that your love is blessed as he blesses us. Your lives are protected as he protects us. Your souls are intertwined as he intertwines us together above him. Know that you will never walk alone, for you can always reach him. Remember always that love is all you need. In the name of our Dark Lord Satan, nema.”

“Nema,” you and your lover replied in unison, grinning uncontrollably at one another.

“Then by the dark powers invested in me,” Copia proclaimed, “you are eternally bound. You may consummate your bonding with a kiss.”

As the ghouls cheered and clapped while you and Mountain shared a tender kiss, you knew then that you’d made the right decision by going through with the ritual. In fact, it made you excited for what the future held for you both. As long as you both had each other, you were ready to face whatever the world threw at you.

[smuggonifico-lmao]

And back by unpopular demand!

Have fun :33

-----------------------------

One moment he was seeing the normal fluorescent lights of the hallways and the next he was under the neon lights of the lab, slamming the door shut behind him.

He slid down to the ground, a hand over his mouth to keep himself from sobbing. This was going too far, he had to compose himself. He had to be strong. He had to be.

If he wasn't strong for them then who would be?

A sigh escaped him. How would he even be able to get them all through this? It had been almost [...] years and he was still so hung up on the deaths of his brothers. But who could blame him, of course he would be, they were his everything. 

“If you were here you’d have good advice, Donnie. Maybe tell me to stop being such a dum-dum about all of this…”

A wet chuckle forced itself out of him, opening the floodgates altogether. Before he knew it his vision was completely blocked, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. And in a moment's decision, he stood up and went further into the lab than he had in years, passing inventions that were halfway done. Everything was collecting dust; the unused blueprint paper on his table, the screws and nails, sorted alphabetically, as well as the tools that were hung up on the wall.

He stopped right in front of a beaten up door, hesitating slightly. After a couple of minutes his hand reached out towards the doorknob. It felt cold and rough underneath his fingers, small bits of dried oil tainting its side. Even the smell of it made him sick these days, although not for reasons others might think.

With a click he unlocked it, opening it to a familiar yet unfamiliar sight.

The room was untouched, which he shouldn't be surprised about if he was honest. The original occupant never returned to it. But his heart ached when he took a look around.

His fingers slid along the walls, softly gliding over the rough texture of paper over paper. Honestly, it made him cry all over again, more tears joining the already dried ones on his face. 

“I can't believe he still kept these… After all these years…”

The walls were plastered with an incredible amount of art and pictures. From small doodles that Mikey made when he was bored, over to drawings he had gifted Donnie for every birthday they’ve spent together, and lastly to the giant painting he had made of all of them.

It was gigantic, made with such a care for details, scars and marks and everything that made them… them. With himself in the middle, to his left Donnie and Leo and to his right April and his dad. And above them, there was Raph, looming over them with a goofy expression on his face, an arm slung around April. Now that he thought of it, they all had goofy expressions. He did want to make it as accurate as possible. A small smile broke from him at the memory.

He had gifted this painting to his brothers when they moved into the new lair, so many years ago. They were all so excited and couldn't decide where to put the painting. Of course Donnie wanted it in his own lab, but Leo had to immediately butt in and tell him that it would only break with how often his lab exploded. In the end, Raph had taken it upon himself to just get some tools and hang it in their living room, while the others were arguing.

Mikey pushed those memories aside.

The entire art piece was set in a protective case, untouched from oil stains and dust. He let his hand stay on the cold outside, lingering for a couple of seconds before closing his eyes and butting his forehead against it. 

He missed them.

He missed them so fucking much.

[ofhedgehogsandpumpkins]

A bunch of ramblings about personal stuff with regards to my own identity as 'human' or not follows. Wanted to get in on paper somewhere and was like "Hey, I have a blog," so. It's personal, but it's my (our) blog I get to post rambling personal posts if I wanna.

Today marks my (Quinn) second run-in w/ Something hitting the rat choir of yearning (good post) (technically like the umpteenth but in this case second) that made me go "Hm, am I a therian," stuff. We're no strangers to non-/alter-humans as a system, there's a wolf, a pair of dragons, and a couple other 'unclassified' folks, but y'know.

I've always kinda been the "token human"? In the past I've (semi-jokingly) used the phrase 'species nonconforming', I've just kinda bounced around from 'sona to 'sona pretty regularly (with a rough base in puppyesque vibes for a lot of reasons), but it's always been a role to play or mask to wear for fun. Y'know, typical furry stuff.

Then I read Taxxon's HRT fic (some of the others had read it before, but I ran into it myself later) like 2 months ago and that slapped the aforementioned rat choir into singing their familiar tune, and uh. I got stuck as a dog for like, a week.

So that was fun.

By which I mean terrifying, actually! For a lot of reasons! I'm really bad at introspection actually! But I tried to settle in as best as I could and when it passed I kinda breathed a sigh of relief and moved on. Went back to the, y'know, "have fun with it" vibe and kept going. Canid-specific 'sona's and roles were kinda poisoned a little by the experience, unfortunately, but it happens. Kobolds are where it's at anyway.

And then Last Night. A very good piece of art by ayviearttv here on Tumblr was passed to me (it's a series, go to their blog it's REALLY good). And uh. Oh Boy the Rat Choir. The night soured for unrelated reasons but a solid amount of it was "Why won't these tiny cheesebrains stop singing for like 5 minutes."

Like, they sing a lot is the thing. Not like, constantly, but a lot, in response to a lot of things that I won't detail. A few include like, specific depictions of androids, or organics becoming androids, etc., messy TF (ie; semi-realistic like in the case of Taxxon and Ayvie's pieces) both organic and mechanical, and so on. We/I have also been into dragons since, like, a super young age (raised on Dragonology, fantasized about being one, raised on Animorphs which also explains a lot, never read Pern but did read Eragon, etc.) so, y'know.

...I'm saying this like I'm trying to justify it. I guess I have to, to myself, a little. Not..."have to" but...feel the need to? I woke up this morning (like 12 hours ago) feeling like I had phantom limbs, they're still around when I'm not otherwise distracted (ADHD makes a lot of things go away when I'm distracted) and have been...odd to deal with. I've never been more aware of how dirty floors can be when it feels like a part of me is dragging on them, ha.

It doesn't feel scary. I mean, I'm anxious, a little. Moreso earlier. I'm anxious in the same way, the imposter way, the faking for attention way, so on, the ways that are usually externally motivated (or at least pretend to be). But unlike before I'm not...bone-deep terrified of it. It feels nice. Wings at my back, tail balancing me out, the strange feeling of horns and crest above, it's...I'unno. It's nice.

On the other hand, I miss being able to lay on my back without feeling weird, hah. Also I was basically sprinting out of the car whenever we stopped for errands.

My proprioception's (the sense of where your body is in space) always been kinda fluid and easy to fool, even for a human who developed a fluid proprioception to handle tool use (that's why tools and/or vehicles often feel like a part of your body when you use them and you (generally) know where in space they are even without looking). Like, as a kid I found a tarot book in our grandmother's workspace that had advice for developing proprioceptive wings through meditation (not joking) and that worked pretty well for me, among other things. It's just how I am. So we'll see, uh, how long this sticks around, I guess.

If...it doesn't...no harm. Mm...maybe a little harm. I'll be sad. I think I'd miss it now that I know how it feels. If it does, work's gonna be awkward, hah. They don't make chairs for that. It'll be fine, just funny.

I don't need advice or anything, to be clear, just musing. I like hearing about the experiences of other therians in specific/alterhumans in general. It's neat. Plurality was neat too, and then turns out I was we. Regardless, it's neat, so I guess I'm just putting this out there to have on paper, and if anyone reads it and it makes them think a little about themselves or encourages anyone or whatever, that's an added bonus.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello and happy new year! I was wondering, could you possibly do the ‘s/o drawing twst boy’ headcanon request again, but this time with Malleus, Idia, Azul, and Floyd? Thank you!

You can read the original “S/O asks to draw [TWST boy] headcanons” (ft. Vil, Rook, Lilia, Jade, and Leona) here!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Your request doesn’t surprise Malleus. He has been asked to be drawn on more than one occasion for various Briar Valley artists—usually for various celebrations, or to produce a new work of art to decorate the castle corridors. What’s one more, really?

He treats the entire affair as a very formal event, going so far as to dress as he would for a royal portrait painting for your reference. Imagine your shock when Malleus pulls up in flowing black robes—the color favored by the Draconias—and his hair swept back to reveal the glittering pattern of scales on his forehead, usually concealed from sight.

Malleus perches as you direct him to, almost statuesque with his regal beauty. His agreeableness and the ease with which he composes himself... it truly speaks of his experience doing this sort of thing many, many times over. Suddenly, that lonely look in his eyes as he gazes into the distance makes sense. How often must he have done this as a part of his duties? How often was he reminded of his crushing solitude? You purse your lips and, pencil in hand, you work to retell a tale as old as time.

Malleus falls silent when he sees your final product. He’s never seen anything quite like it. Though not an exact replication, it’s still very distinct and recognizable as Malleus Draconia—but it carries a soul and a passion in it that wasn’t present in similar works. Whatever was missing before, you had somehow caught it within your fingertips and infused it into your drawing.

“My, is this the sort of magic that you’ve kept hidden from me all this time?” His attempt at humor is dry, but it comes with a slight smile set on his lips. “Fufu. You should perform it more often, then. I rather enjoy these displays. They may lack the grandiosity of more powerful spells, but there is certainly something to be said of spells capable of grabbing one’s heart and mind.”

Your drawing is mounted in the Diasomnia common area for all to see. (Malleus thinks it makes a welcoming sight for his students and guests alike.) Of course, Sebek sheds tears of joy and shouts a speech about how the drawing “perfectly portrays the Young Master’s commanding presence”, however... many Diasomnia students often remark that “Malleus-sama looks a little happier somehow in that artwork.” They wonder if the artist had any influence on it—but they suppose that they will never know for certain.

Idia is super against your idea. He doesn’t like to be seen, and he wants to keep it that way. There’s a lot of back and forth (plus interjections from Ortho) in an attempt to get Idia to change his mind. He eventually does so (although begrudgingly), making you first swear on your save file that you’ll 1) make it quick and 2) you won’t spread your work of him around.

It’s awkward trying to get Idia to hold a pose for you; he’s constantly twitching and his eyes keep darting around nervously, as though a monster’s about to pop out of his closet or from under his bed any second now. (On multiple occasions, Idia also expresses concerns about checking on his gacha games to make sure his energy isn’t maxed out; it’d be a waste of resources if he didn’t consistently use it up before it caps!)

You end up compromising: while he sits and plays a handheld game, you can stare all you like to get the his details down. Idia tries his best to ignore your hovering presence as he plays his latest gacha obsession, Warped Looking Glass, but it only makes him more hyper aware of you. You swear that every time you glance at him, his face and his hair grow hotter and hotter—redder and redder, and sweatier and sweatier, too.

He releases a deep, relieved sigh when it is all over, hurriedly wiping his clammy hands off on his pants and flapping the opening of his hoodie to cool off. It’s not long before Idia’s cheeks flame again, though. He nearly topples over when he sees how you’ve drawn him. It’s so dreamy, he barely even recognizes it’s himself!

“E-Eeeeeeh?! Th-This isn’t me, is it? I-It can’t possibly be...! Th-There’s no way that a gross, introverted shut-in otaku like me could look like a total bishounen straight out of an otome game... It looks like I-I’ll start shooting sparkles from my eyes and it’ll start r-raining rose petals in the background or something! Seriously, you took too many creative liberties with this...!! N-Not that it doesn’t look nice, but... I-I just can’t see myself in this cool looking and confident pretty boy, n-nope!!”

Idia might not necessarily agree that this is how he actually looks irl, but he’d be a fool if he didn’t laminate your art for safekeeping! He’ll scan it and upload it to his computer on a super secure drive, too! Loot like this has gotta be protected from adventurers—and Idia’s the fierce boss they’ll have to defeat before they can pry your art from his cold, dead hands.

Azul is visibly hesitant when you ask if you can draw him. He’s still self-conscious about his image being depicted in any form (no thanks due to his childhood, which was wrought with peers who bullied his body), so it definitely takes some convincing before Azul’s comfortable with it.

He makes sure to set some ground rules in advance before you start drawing—including no sharing with others whatsoever! This stays a secret between the two of you, and for your eyes and his only. It’s an informal contract, sealed with a brief peck instead of a binding signature, but he can trust you with this much as his partner.

Knowing that he’ll be observed for the day, Azul comes dressed in his sharpest suit and tie. He lets you sit in his office while he goes about scrutinizing contracts and meeting clients. Azul carries himself in a very refined manner, his words and motions poised and practiced. Whether he’s concentrated on reading a paper or a customer, he’s always got a calm smile on. It sets you at ease as you draw your pencil across a blank page, hoping to recreate the delicate curve of his lips upon it.

He’s more than pleased with the results. It’s no secret that Azul puts great value in appearances and his personal image, so to see himself drawn in such a flattering light is a massive ego boost. You’ll earn a chuckle, a smirk, and perhaps even a bashful blush, if you look carefully enough.

“Such artistic ability. I’m honored to be the subject of one of your works. Or would it be more accurate to say that I was your muse?” Azul laughs softly to himself. “Well, no matter. Either way, this is an extravagant piece. True, it may lack monetary value, but it more than makes up for it in sentimental value. Fufu. I would be more than happy to call this my own. It’s worth its weight in sunken treasure.”

Azul purchases a special little frame for your finished piece. He keeps it on his desk, facing him, so that whenever he glances up from his work, he’s greeted by your artwork, and the familiar flourish of your signature in the corner of the page. It gives Azul the motivation he needs to power through particularly rough or long days!

You want to draw him? Go for it! Floyd doesn’t mind! In fact, he’s kinda curious to see how it’ll turn out! He doesn’t even care if it’s good or not, or how long or how little time you spend on making it—he just wants to see something fun~ “Go crazy! Go wild!” Floyd tells you encouragingly.

... Well, he says that, but he certainly doesn’t help in any way. Floyd’s so random and sporadic in his behavior that it’s hard to catch him holding still or in one place for long enough to even sketch him. Even when he’s relaxed, you’ll find that his facial expressions are constantly shifting—a lift of the lips, a glint in the eyes. That’s a part of his charm, you realize. Ever-changing, never quite the same from moment to moment. A challenge to capture on the canvas.

You spend countless evenings observing him, both at the Mostro Lounge and at various basketball games. Floyd, you notice, is most beautiful when he’s in motion, when he is free to act as he wills. He moves with a sort of deadly grace, feral and wild, so erratic and yet strangely captivating. What’s that thumping in your chest? Is it exhilaration from watching him? A spark of inspiration on the cusp of breaking free? You seize it, and let it guide your hand.

Floyd gets a impatient waiting for you to finish! He constantly asks you “Is it done yet?” while poking you or leaning his head against you. His eyes light up with such delight when you finally say yes, and he practically rips the sketchbook out of your hands, eager to witness the fruits of your labor. A warbling, raspy laugh tickles the shell of your ear as Floyd takes it in, reveling in the lines, the colors, the shape of himself.

“You finally finished me, huh? Took you long enough~” he jokes, purposefully holding the drawing out of your reach. You jump to retrieve it, and Floyd bops you on the nose with a finger. “Ahahahah! It looks cool, so maybe I’ll let’cha off the hook this time for making me wait all this time. Ne, ne, what else can you do? I wanna see you make all kinds of stuff!! You will, won’t you?”

Floyd sticks your creation up on his wall, right next to his shelf of snacks and other miscellaneous items! Because of its haphazard location, the art suffers a lot of injuries—tears and rips, chip dust, smudging, etc. Floyd’s really careless around it, but he’s not really distressed that it gets damaged. In his eyes, the more worn something is, the more well-loved it is! And besides, you can always just whip up a new one for him to replace it, riiiight?

[lale-txt]

🍋 "you owe me a kiss." w/ Thatch & gn!reader

a/n: requested by sweet @eustasssimp <3 ayooo it's been a while since i wrote our beloved bread boy and I MISSED IT. which is why it got longer than i expected, but i don't mind. he's always so much fun to write. also, it was very hard to find the nice manga art for him, the only other one was the cursed one where he was holding up the fruit... mf should have just eaten it sigh word count: 1.7k

“Commander, I have an unusual favor to ask…”

You lean in the doorframe to the ship’s kitchen, hands fidgeting nervous on the hemline of your apron. It was late at night and the last dinner plates were stacked away, the kitchen was clean again (after an incident where someone left the tomato sauce broiling unattended) and everything was prepared to feed the hungry crew breakfast first thing in the morning. Only you and your commander were left, who was humming from the other end of the room, just like he always did. Sometimes you were able to recognize the song, sometimes it was just something silly he made up. Tonight it was a familiar melody, something you remembered from when you were young, from another life; before Pops picked you up by the neck like a feral little kitten and claimed you as family.

Thatch looks up, throws the kitchen towel in his hand over his shoulder and cocks his head a little, giving you the smug smile that makes your heart always skip a beat. His pompadour went to bed early (which might be related to the tomato sauce incident earlier and him having to rinse his mane in the kitchen sink), that’s why he was wearing his long hair down in a half-bun tonight. It suited him, but you didn’t dare to tell him that. He had enough fun calling you pet names throughout the day that made you all flustered and almost drop everything you are holding in your hands (not related to the tomato sauce incident, but let’s just say you and the kitchen crew had eaten warm cookies from the floor more than once).

“How often must I tell you to call me by my name? We’re working together for almost a year now and you still call me commander.”, he teases you, giving you a small wink that makes your cheeks flush. There was something so intimate about his name out of your mouth that you only dared to whisper it into the dark, when you were alone in the safety of your own cabin. Your flustered self doesn’t go unnoticed by him (you quickly learned when you joined the crew that his warm eyes catch every little detail) and he comes closer, patting your head with his big hand and a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it though. I’m a patient man. So… what’s the favor?”

You muster up all your courage before you speak. What’s the worst that could happen? Him saying no? Actually, yes, that would be the worst thing. You haven’t thought about this possibility. Maybe you should… you couldn’t think clearly at all with his hand resting on top of your head, his eyes lingering on you in anticipation.

“We’re at least a week away from the next island and I need a haircut, preferably now. You’re the only one I trust with this job.”

Thatch raises an eyebrow, processing what you just said. You appreciate that he doesn’t burst out into laughter, only smirks and lets his finger run through your hair. You do your best not to shudder under his unexpected touch, but it’s definitely something you could get used to…

“I’m very flattered that you chose me out of everyone around here, darling. But have you considered asking Izou–”

“Scary as fuck. Have you seen him?”, you deadpan. Of course you had considered asking the sniper, when you had a death wish maybe. This man could kill with his eyes only and you were far too intimidated by him (you still liked him a lot, though). “Also Pops? Couldn’t hold any regular sized scissors even if he wanted to. And have you seen Marco and his funky pineapple hair? I trust him with my life, but not with my hair.”

Thatch laughs and puts one arm around your shoulder while he switches off the light in the kitchen with the other, leaving you both in total darkness for a second until your eyes adjust to the absence of light. You notice his broad silhouette, smell his cologne now that he was this close, feel his skin on yours. Can he hear your heart beating fast? If he does, he doesn’t let it show. You feel a little bit lost and are suddenly now very aware of your own arms. What should you do with them? Wrap one around Thatch’s waist? You blush from the thought alone. Take a step away from him? You don’t want that at all either…

Before you can get lost in your own thoughts even more, the cook starts moving, pulling you along with him, the familiar melody from earlier on his lips again.

“I’ll help you out, pumpkin’. Just don’t blame me when your haircut doesn’t turn out the way you imagined. You have everything you need for it in your cabin, right?”

You nod, suddenly coming to the realization that he will be alone with you in your cabin. How often have you dreamed about that? Oh boy. Who would have thought it needed a blunt occasion like a simple haircut to finally make it come true?

“I’ve seen you slice tons of vegetables over the past months. I know for a fact that you have a steady hand, commander. I trust you with this job.”, you chuckle, your heart skipping another beat when he laughs out loud and squeezes you a little tighter. Wow. You were so madly in love with him, it must be written all over your face.

You unlock the door to your cabin (the lock was only a safety measure because a certain fire fist snucks himself in every once in a while because he knows where you store the good cookies) and offer Thatch to step in first, not without noticing his sly little smile on his lips as he losend up the yellow scarf around his neck a little. Those hands. He looked so good. You pinch yourself to catch a clear thought and start rummaging around your desk drawer for a sharp scissor and a comb. It’s been a while since your hair has seen both of these things. Meanwhile Thatch looks around, taking it all in. What was he thinking? At least he was humming a happy song, that must be a good sign, right?

When you sit down in front of the sink on a wooden stool, Thatch takes his position behind you, combing your tangled hair with his fingers first before he moves on to the comb. He is very careful with it, taking his time, making sure you’re not hurting at all but actually enjoying it. You almost don’t dare to look in the mirror but do it anyway, a bit stunned about the fact that this was really happening and not just a dream. His striking features were highlighted by the radiant bathroom light, the dark and sharp beard a bright contrast to the rest of his face, especially his soft and warm eyes. They were so full of love it almost made you cry.

“So…”, he sang with a voice as soft as butter on warm bread. “What look did you have in mind?”

“Oh, just the tips.”, you say, immediately regretting your choice of words when you notice his big grin and your mistake. “I mean…”

He shakes his head, a few strands of his hair falling into his face that he doesn’t bother to tuck behind his ear. “I’ll be gentle, big promise, sugar.”

You have no doubts about that.

He takes his time to brush through your hair, cutting off little by little, always tilting your head a bit from one side to the other to make sure he’s cutting your hair evenly. You try not to blush under his touch when he lifts your chin with two fingers, his eyes lingering on you, but you fail miserably and can feel your cheeks burning up. Still, you’re enjoying every second of this.

Time seems to stand still but he finishes his job, looking very proud with his hands on his hips, admiring his masterpiece. Admiring you, maybe? You stand up to inspect your new hair closer in the mirror, smiling widely.

“I knew you were the right person to ask, commander.”, you praise him, brushing your hair behind your ears and back to the front again. It felt much lighter. Or was it your heart that was leaping in your chest? Either way, you’re over the moon. Thatch is standing behind you, looking overly proud. He takes your hand and gives you a little twirl, smiling brightly at you doing a little happy dance under his hand until you stop, facing him, beaming from ear to ear.

“What do I owe you for that? I could clean the kitchen the next two weeks or–” – “You owe me a kiss.”

Just when you thought he must be joking, he closes his eyes and leans down to you, presenting you his clean shaved cheek, pointing with a finger exactly where he wants you to place your lips. Was he for real? You knew he was a big flirt, but to imagine someone like him wanted a kiss from you…

Still, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted to fulfill his wish. For a very long time, actually.

You gather what is left of your courage and tiptoe a tiny bit closer, your arm brushing his. In a gentle motion you place one hand on his other cheek, his skin so soft underneath your fingertips, you could only imagine how it must feel on your lips. You close your eyes but can feel him smiling under your touch, feel his dimples when your lips land on his cheek, softly, as if he was made out of glass. He hums a little and doesn’t pull back. You place another kiss on the corner of his mouth, a gesture so gentle it makes your heart sing. Thatch takes the hand lingering on his cheek into his, his other wandering from your face to the back of your neck where it stays, fingertips drawing small circles on your skin as he tilts his head and leans in for another kiss; this time both of your lips are touching and your whole body feels electrified, as if you were dancing in a thunderstorm.

“I always knew you would taste sweeter than sugar.” – “That’s because a fine bread needs a nice sweet spread to be complete… Thatch.”

[insertdisc5]

Hi!! I wanted to ask, in celebration of Deltarune CH. 2, do you have any updated thoughts and head canons about the game?? Like, y'know, similar to a previous ask about Kris in your Deltarune tag? Thanks!

thoughts on kris part 2 i guess???? (part 1 from ch1 here lol)

spoilers for deltarune like woah. this wont be kris focused just random thoughts on everything. thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk

not that many thoughts for this chapter tbh! EDIT LOL: this was a lie i have a lot of thoughts

-just in general i feel like the player isn't the only one controlling kris... like yes the player forced kris to do what happened in the snowgrave route but AT THE SAME TIME idk it feels like there's someone else too. just because of the terrifying voice i suppose. and also the jerky movement kris does every time they get their soul out? unless there's another reason for it... maybe getting your soul out means you walk weird lol

-BUT ALSO i feel like kris is 100% in control when they create fountains. idk it just makes sense kris would create them. to create another world, a better world, A WORLD WHERE THEIR BROTHER IS HERE PERHAPS? i do wonder why they get their soul out then though. i'm all for it sweetie! do whatever! i support you!

-(i am and will be playing deltarune with only kris' best interests in mind. i will not hurt anyone unless kris wants me to. dont worry my little meow meow im on your side! talk to me! no? okay ill stay under the sink its fine)

-speaking of asriel. SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER (starts crying) V-VACATION COLLEGE WHEN

-kris misses their brother so much it's so sad. if you make kris steal 5$ from asriel they take it "reluctantly"? talking to asriel online so often even alphys knows?? the google search?? GOING INTO ASRIEL'S GOOGLE SEARCH ROOM WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED BECAUSE THEY'RE CONVINCED THEY ALREADY KNOW WHATS IN THERE? THAT ONE IS LESS OF A MISSING THING BUT IM LIKE OH MY GOD

-the city walk with susie at the end makes it clear to me that kris really values susie's friendship... kris even sits with her if you spend long enough near the lake like aaaaah ;_;

-and even in snowgrave you spend your last acts with the final boss calling for your friends like YES there's a way bigger creepy aspect to this (kris as more of a Leader who Commands and commands their subjects to come) but still :'0 (and then noelle answers oh my god noelle im so sorry for the trauma)

-berdly. listen. listen. listen. liste

-berdly sucks but [berdly hurts his arm in the battle against queen if you don't save him because he doesnt want to hurt you] [berdly realizing smg's wrong in snowgrave and immediately taking steps to save noelle] berdly is my little crumb nugget. i will protect him.

-noelle. noelle. girlboss!

-like ooooh listen. hearing about the genocide path for undertale. made me go "that is SO COOL. i HAVE to experience it myself this is great. hehehe killing time" and like no regrets. i was fully enjoying the experience knowing i was an awful person. SNOWGRAVE THOUGH. i will never try this myself its too fucked up. casually grooming your childhood friend to murder people <3 and also acting like a weird stalker towards her <3 stockholm syndrome speedrun i will get all the info i can about this but i will never do this myself

-people remarking the kris/player>noelle relationship is similar to the relationship between player>chara in genocide path is like yes. chefs kiss. don't worry we just are making you stronger and everything will be fine "you made me kill my friend? and for what?" this is fine sweetie don't worry about it!!!!!!

-like the amount of details added to snowgrave, like if you equip noelle's watch she notices later? and her battle animations change as time goes on, she gets an ice shield and stops sighing in relief after battle? oh my god? oh my god.

-(berdly is not awake.) JUST KILL ME RIGHT HERE I HAVEN'T STOPPED THINKING ABOUT BERDLY NOT BEING AWAKE!!!!!

-also why didnt he turn into dust. so many possible reasons. is magic a thing in the normal world and perhaps no magic means no dust (theres graves). maybe he isnt dead. maybe hes braindead. maybe he'll come back. either way that boy is now in the closet big enough to put someone in

-also dess' name probably being december AND THATS WHY NOELLE LOST THE SPELLING BEE?!?!??! FUCK ME UP!!!!! JUST FUCK ME UP!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!

-also so many good pixel art this chapter. too many? i didnt need pixel art of cardboard noelle falling on the statue. like thank you but please. please it hurts my game artist brain.

-the expressions in this chapter were also top notch. all the unsettling noelle expressions like (i fall over face first)

-i threw away the ball of junk (which i already tried in ch1) and this time the game was like "ARE YOU SURE BC THIS IS A BAD IDEA" and kris felt bitter :'( (it deletes all your items in the dark world)

-i uh fucked up and skipped the susie+noelle scene bc listen last time ralsei mentionned seeing what susie is doing we missed some PRIMO LORE. turns out it just makes you skip the scene and you dont get anything new. welp

-speaking of ralsei well you know. he exists. but im stuck on him going "i just wonder what being ralsei-like even is...?" ralsei my dude there's so much i could say about this. do you feel like you can't be ralsei-like because you feel like you have to be asriel-like

-but also that makes no sense bc susie hasnt even mentioned ralsei looks like asriel. and i cant imagine asriel being so meek. so WHAT GIVES

-ralsei as kris’ “i wish i was a monster just like my bro and family and i’d look like asriel but with red horns [THE HALLOWEEN COSTUME] and my name would be something cool like ralsei instead of a boring human name like kris and im sweet and cute because thats how i act with asriel because ASRIEL MADE ME” theory because that would be cute.

-ASRIEL GOING TO THE CHURCH TO CONFESS HIS "SINS" WHEN "SINS" AREN'T A THING IN THE ANGEL BELIEF LIKE I KNOW THIS INTERACTION WAS TREATED AS A JOKE BUT WHAT THE FUCK ASRIEL?

-kris definitely has a connection with the big red door in the city, judging by what the kids say they probably went there... i feel like this place's dark world will be the Final Dungeon you KNOW some shit happened there. also the sounds you hear when you go there is the phone dark world call's sound slowed down? AND AFTER SNOWGRAVE APPARENTLY YOU CANT HEAR IT ANYMORE? HUWAH?

-speaking of songs the songs were all so good, My Castle Town rules, the berdly snowgrave music is stuck in my head, flashback is uwah wuahah, Until Next Time is so good, AND ALSO A FRIEND NOTICED THE DARK WORLD CITY THEME IS JUST tHE SONG 74 (MOST NOTICEABLE WITH THE SNOWGRAVE VERSION)?????? WHAT DOES IT MEAN????? it might be just "hey its just reuse" BUT MR FOX YOU KNOW WE'RE GONNA READ INTO THIS IS NOELLE THE ONE SINGING IDK BRO!!!!!!!!!!

-asgore dreemurr fired from the force what happun!!!!! game theory is that asgore is related to dess' death/disappearance but eh who knows

-you start the chapter at lvl2 and get to lvl3 after the final boss, a friend mentioned this is probably because we destroyed a world and im :0

-to go back to kris it's still so interesting to figure out who they are based on how they act/people mention them. like kris shaking the ferris wheel car? yeah makes sense i can imagine a pranking kid do this. kris' dance? yeah thats a little silly but i can buy it. doing cool anime poses? well i dunno this doesnt line up PERFECTLY but sure. BUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN SNOWGRAVE... especially >proceed like that is such a weird thing that i can't imagine them doing, but i can't completely see the "player" doing either (compare with going to sans -which kris doesnt know- and going "SANS!" because of course the player would know sans), like THATS one of the reasons i feel like there's someone else in there. the weird robotic merciless actions. if im going super meta it feels like there'd be someone else like writing the choices into existence for us to pick you know? gaster probably? god i need to read more gaster theories i completely sidestepped the gaster shit bc i wasnt interested. anyway just spitballing

-(looks at big shot guy) please dont make him the next tumblr guy i beg you

-obligatory "queen was great" mention if only because this part made me laugh a little bit too hard

that was a lot. thank you for letting me talk

[chasingpj]

𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫

pairing: leo valdez x child of iris!reader

requested?: yes!

translation: full of color

warnings: uhh, mentions of mental health and ?? maybe some typos lmao

category: headcanons, fluff, best friends to lovers

pre-relationship

though, leo saw you around camp often, you caught interest in him before he caught interest in you

i mean, he literally couldn't miss you because your outfits were always bright, whether it was a combination of colors or monochromatic

you and your siblings actually look like a rainbow threw up on you guys, and it's honestly iconic

no one at camp can not notice the children of iris, especially when they're in a herd

one day, you were sitting alone at a picnic table near the lake, and you found yourself drawing him in your sketchbook

you sketched a portrait of him while he spoke to piper at a table nearby

you've always found the floppy curls and how his brightest smiles always look a little manic to be adorable

when you sketched his portrait in your notebook, you didn’t intend for him ever to see it

until a couple of weeks later in the arts and crafts center, leo passed by and caught sight of a new project you were working on

he stopped in his tracks to compliment your drawing

since you were nowhere near done with it, you couldn’t admire the piece as much as he was

but his enthusiasm was so endearing

he politely asked if he could see more, and you didn’t hesitate to slide over your sketchbook

he noticed a lot of your drawings were scenery and people at camp; especially your siblings

he stumbled across a detailed sketch of a woman and her child sitting in a bus

“wow… who’s this?”

“oh, I don’t know. It was just a little girl I saw on the train with her mother.”

“so you just drew her?”

you never realized how weird your habit of drawing random people was until he had asked

you giggled nervously, quick to explain yourself, “I tend to draw people or things that I find beautiful. I wanted to capture how calm and happy she was with her child ‘cause at the time, I was stressed and angry. Watching and drawing her made me calm.”

leo nodded, a faint smile on his lips before looking back down at the drawing. “that’s really cool,” he complimented, and you shifted in your seat, suddenly shy.

And then it hit you

you were so willing to show leo all your works that you had completely forgotten that his portrait was in that book

your pulse thumped loud in your ears, mind racing to figure out a way to take away your sketchbook before he could see it

you ended up spending so long thinking of what to do that he arrived on the page in no time

right before he could see the drawing in its entirety, you slammed the book closed and snatched it

leo’s startled expression turned into a mischievous smirk

“was that me?”

you froze in your place; a squeaky sound escaped your throat in your embarrassment

leo’s brown eyes sparkled as he leaned into you, your gaze fixed on his, “y/n, you think I’m beautiful?”

AHHHH!

^^ that was you in your head btw

leo laughed, amused at your attempt to deny it

“then why did you snatch it away?” he raises an eyebrow before reaching over quickly to grab the sketchbook back

you didn't pull it out of his reach fast enough, leo getting a grip on one side

the two of you pull it back and forth, leo laughing at you as you continued to deny what he saw

though you were incredibly embarrassed, you couldn't contain the laughter bubbling in your chest

gods, of course, this would happen to me, you thought

he got it out of your grip, and you sighed in defeat, watching him flip to the page of him and piper

he was quiet, studying the picture for a second before giving you that playful smirk

“you think I’m beautiful?” he asked again

you playfully rolled your eyes, “it was more piper than you.”

your tone was sarcastic, only fueling leo’s banter with you

“oh really?” he chuckled to himself, “but i’m the only one colored in.”

you were silent at his observation before scoffing, “whatever.”

leo only laughed as you take the book away from him

“don’t you have somewhere to be, fire boy?” you asked and nudged his shoulder

the glint in your eyes made him smile, and he shrugged, “i guess i do. i'll see you around."

you nodded, too shy to do anything else, and he walked off

after that, leo took it upon himself to talk to you every day

leo teased you about the drawing all the time, and he found the way you would play along to be funny

before you both fell in love, you were close friends

you had such an optimistic point of view about life, and it was pretty contagious

somehow when leo was in the dumps about something, you always knew what to say

you were just so easy to talk to, and because of this, your friendship just grew naturally

your first kiss was towards the end of summer

leo invited you to hang out with him in bunker nine at, specifically, 6 pm

you teasingly asked if it was a date, and you remember the way he tensed up a bit

with a mumble, he asked, "what if it is?"

from the tone in his voice, you knew he wasn’t joking

in fact, his tone was hesitant, a part of him was expecting you to reject him

then the heavy pit in his stomach turned light when you smiled and said, "then I'm down."

the grin leo gave you made your heart flutter like crazy

your first date consisted of eating snacks and watching a movie on one of those portable DVD players

You picked up on the tension between you and him, and noticed the opportunities for a kiss kept passing

it was until Leo walked you to your cabin that night did you have a moment of boldness and asked, "so are you going to kiss me or?"

leo's eyes widen in surprise before his face broke out in the familiar smirk he gives when he flirts with you

you rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into you

your first kiss was sweet and soft; a little awkward

his hands hovered over your sides for a second, not sure what to do with them until he decided to rest them on your waist

it was the perfect way to mark the beginning of your relationship

relationship

since you guys are both broke teenagers, you got creative with date nights

you came up with the idea of paint splattering with him

you guys got canvases, covered the walls and floors with plastic to make sure you didn't dirty them

then you filled water balloons with paint and just threw them

despite you guys singing and dancing around in the midst of it, the canvases came out so good

and to commemorate the beginning of your relationship, you hung them up side by side in bunker nine, and when you guys get a place together, you hang them up in the hallway of your apartment

leo is a huge gift giver; as i’ve said before in my “how he shows he loves you” headcanons

he’s made you a lot of things; canvases, jewelry, little trinkets with scrap metal

one of your favorite gifts from him is a suncatcher with rainbow quartz

you fell in love with it and when you move in together, you make sure to hang it up in the kitchen with the bunch of other suncatchers that he’s made you

i love the idea that you would attempt to bring more color in his wardrobe

a lot of his clothes are muted in color; you don’t mind it but you were interested to see what he’d look like in a colorful outfit like yours

To say the least, he was not that enthusiastic and maybe, you shouldn’t have put him in a monochromatic orange outfit but… you still thought he looked cute

leo thought he looked like a traffic cone though so it didn’t stick

it’s okay because you like him the way he is anyways

another thing is that you guys are super supportive of each other and leo loves just how you manage to lift his mood

once leo was having a bad mental health week

you guys were sitting under a tree, looking out at the water

his head laid on your shoulder and small sniffles came from the other

it hurt to see him like this and you wished you could do more to make him feel better

then you had the greatest idea to make a rainbow for him

so you did

leo was so stunned when he saw the rainbow form over the lake

he looked at you surprised and when you admitted to making the rainbow for him, the emotion on his face was indescribable

and then you laughed and held him when he started crying because he said it was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him

another time, you insisted that meditation would be good for him

he literally sat down for like 3 minutes with his eyes closed before he was itching to get up and do something

even when he was sitting down, he was still bouncing his legs and fidgeting

so that fell through too but you still helped him in other ways and he’s so grateful for your optimism and bubbly personality

leo always says that you bring color to everything; literally and figuratively

one of the things you bring color to is his life

and he’s constantly reminding you of this; that his world just feels brighter now that you’re around

and it’s literal too

since you painted the walls of bunker nine a bright orange

he asked you why orange, and you told him because orange encourages productivity, creativity, and most importantly, optimism

it may have also reminded you of the orange outfit you put him into

anyways, you told him that it hurt you to see him get down in the dumps, and you insisted there was no way he could be sad in a bright orange room

needless to say, you were kinda right

masterlists taglist: @nct127bee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @cartocns @slytherclaw-kitten @idk-bye-no @percysbluehairbrush @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @drayshadow @ashookykooky @anything-forourmoony @loverstyless @yelenabel0vaswife @ohmydamgods @jordannfields @amy-writes-blog @muted-mayham @dreamerball @earthtokace @thehighladyofday @lala-llama123 @tootsdoll @slytherindaughterofposeidon0 @black-rose-29 @somekidnamedkai @possiblylostchasecousin @hamdehlesmis @cami05sworld @does-anyone-hear-me @sol-the-salmon

if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

[realcube]

trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references 

kei tsukishima 

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you 

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima 

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you 

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF 

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one 

♡ jk jk 

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you 

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy 

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened 

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning. 

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--” 

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?” 

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact. 

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened?  why were they both acting like they were in drama class?  and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani 

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead 

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red 

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable 

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice 

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y’know - chasing you around the whole school 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage. 

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.” 

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?” 

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable 

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution 

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending? 

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you* 

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.” 

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer 

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny  obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch  🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague 

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time 

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly 

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment 

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?” 

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

Sinners. (Stalker!San x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Semi Non-Con, sadism, masochism, fear kink, hair play, head shaving, complete submission, humiliation, degradation, anal, camera play, piercing, denial, chastity, Psycho!San, twisted and dark fucked up shit. Read at your own risk. You've been warned. This isn't for everyone. It is purely fiction and doesn't reflect any individual's behavior nor does it encourage it.

It was early in the morning and she was about to go to college in an hour. But instead of running around having breakfast, getting ready and making sure she had her assignments ready, Y/n was standing in front of her mirror, eyes closed as she touched her pussy and touched an electric razor to her head, imagining what it'd feel like if it was on and an imaginary 'Master' was forcefully shearing her. Like a sheep. "Ahh... Master… please..." The girl let a whimper fall from her lips, having no idea that the curtains of her room were open and someone could watch her through the window.

"Fuck…" The man standing outside, behind the PCO booth on the sidewalk outside Y/n's apartment complex whispered to himself, feeling his jeans tighten. Taking a picture of the girl before switching it to video mode, planning to send her the photo later. It had been a while now. Maybe a bit more than a while. He was ready and sure now, unable to wait anymore.

San had to have Y/n now.

He had to claim her rightfully his. Or, he felt like he'd lose his mind now. Just watching the pretty girl wasn't enough anymore. He wanted to touch her, feel her, tell her, that he knew… He knew that she wasn't as innocent as she made herself look in front of the people that knew her. That she was actually a hormonal little dirty girl. And whilst nobody knew that nasty side of her, he did. The thought made the man feel powerful. In control. Like he had a claim over Y/n.

There was no way in hell that she wasn't made for him.

Y/n got done with masturbating and packed up before going to college, having no idea that she had a stalker. The girl spent her usual regular day at college, having no idea of the storm that was coming.

.

San knew Y/n were in class and that’s exactly when he wanted to send her the photo he took. A sick smirk made its way on his face and he took his phone out, sending it with the caption, 'having fun there?' He knew where she sat, a lone desk by one of the windows in this classroom, the spot he was standing in providing him a clear view of her face. Yes. The man had all the information he could gather about her memorized by heart.

Y/n was drifting off when she suddenly felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, peeking at the Professor sneakily, the girl took it out and unlocked it only to choke on her breath before starting to cough, making some heads turn which caused her to put the device in her hand away to prevent it getting seized. Her blood ran cold and skin paled.

What the fuck just happened?!

San patiently waited for the female to exit her college, her being earlier than the usual time today, however. The man grinned deviously as he texted her again once she passed by him in a hurry, his taller figure getting up to follow her.

'Will you give that show again? Would you like someone to shave your hair off? That’s what gets you off right?' It shamelessly read, making her tremble.

Y/n started to rush towards her house as she didn't live too far away from her college, not having to use any vehicle because it was barely a 10 minute walk as she nervously glanced around. She was quite twisted herself. And so, a dark part of her mind thought... things, making her start to shudder as tears welled up in self hatred. She hated the soft pounds in her southern region, overpowering the thump of her heart ringing in her ears as she reached the building and rushed in.

'What's the rush for, Princess? Are you so eager to touch yourself again? Tsk. Are you horny? Knowing someone is watching you?' San was absolutely sick in the head. Chuckling at his own text, he bit his lip and hit send.

Y/n was shaking as she read the message. Yes. In her fantasies this was… thrilling, exciting, pussy throbbing and she'd like to play like this with her top but… a legit stalker? She wasn't THAT fucked. Or so the girl belived, at least. Rushing to the curtains after locking the front door, the girl drew them while trying to catch someone's glance outside but no luck.

San had mastered the art of hiding as he watched her. It wasn't like this was new or anything.

Y/n felt hopeless. She couldn't even call the cops! What would the girl show them as evidence?! She didn't want to tell or show them this! Her filthiest desire.

The 21 year old was having a mental breakdown! All her savings were in this college. She could not run away, didn't have any friends because Y/n was a foreigner and the people of this country were rather hostile to any outsiders. Couldn't go back home because she had run away from there, which was a hell in itself, when she had received her acceptance letter.

'Aww come on now!' Her phone pinged again, and then again. 'You can’t keep the fun all to yourself!'

The realisation felt like a bucket of ice cold water everytime she was reminded of it. The person had seen her masturbating and that to the fucking… razor! They knew her fantasies and at that the darkest ones! She couldn't even text them back asking him who it was! The girl was simply too embarrassed to! What if it were someone she knew in her college or around the apartment complex!

It was a dark day and it started raining. Y/n felt tears streaming down her face as her heart beat never slowed down, more terror filling her as everything outside got dark and thunder struck.

Maybe she should call the cops... No one else would help a foreigner… She just knew it. Nobody liked college students especially that lived alone because they were 'reckless' and often lied to get a good laugh out of the elders with their friends. So no one really opened their door for a student they didn't know personally.

But what would she tell the cops?! They ask for evidence!

Meanwhile, San stood on the spot he had found. Even if it was literally the end of the world, he'd still be there. Always. She was his and he had to have her all to himself. There was no other way. The man wasn't exactly sure how he'd do it but he’ll find a way.

.

Y/n called the cops at last when she started suspecting someone's presence outside her apartment. Or window… she wasn't sure anymore. And the loud thunder outside didn't help her situation. Dialing the police the scared girl told them she was afraid someone was stalking her and needed an officer for security right now. i Telling them about the texts and deciding to leave the nasty parts out, she sighed in somewhat relief when they informed that they will send an officer on the way. The student grabbed a water from the fridge and sat on the couch, taking huge gulps while trying to calm down.

Finally.

It only took some minutes before there was a knock on the door. A nervous Y/n looked through the peep hole to only cry out in relief when she saw the uniform through it. "Oh! Thank God, officer! Thank you so much! You're here!" She  was overjoyed. "Thank you! I- I am so scared!" A weak sob left her. "Please come in!"

The officer looked around the house, nodding. "I need you to calm down, miss. Tell me everything. We are here with you." His tone was professional. His name plate read 'Park Seonghwa'.

"I- I have a stalker! I don't know how!" Y/n quickly locked the door after he stepped in. "Not many people like me because I am a foreigner! I don't know if it's someone from college troubling me o- on purpose or what... B- But they've been sending me some really p- personal stuff..." She looked up at him innocently, scared.

The dark haired man hummed and nodded. "Do you maybe know the number? Have you noticed any suspicious activity around you before? Is there someone who has a motive to do this?"

"N- No... I got the first text today... I- I am really scared... I've got no one here... W- What do I do?" She told him all of it, hoping that the culprit he caught as soon as possible so she could go back to her life where she was a nobody. No one knew her and she was just another face among many others..

"Alright. We’ll keep a close eye on you. Within this period, try not to hang out too much, yeah? It is best to come directly home after college. And call us on this number if you suspect anything." He wrote a number on a paper and handed it to the shaky girl.

"Oh... Alright officer... thank you..." She saved the number gladly. And since he was supposed to stay with her to ensure the girl's safety, they sat down and Y/n awkwardly turned the TV on. Oh she never had a guy in her apartment before.

.

After getting used to the feeling of safety, Y/n got up after a while, finally having calmed down as she felt hungry. Cooking some dinner for two people, she went and handed the officer one of the two plates. "You've been here since evening... Please eat." She politely smiled, softly blushing from the embarrassment. The girl was too soft, continuously thanking him like it wasn't his job.

"You're a true hero..." She giggled and sat on the other couch, totally not thinking about how handsome he was. Before a sigh left her as she was reminded of the situation. "Officer... What will happen to my stalker when you catch him...?" He knew her darkest secrets. "I am really afraid... They mentioned some... things... very private... things..." The girl finally confessed.

“Mind telling me those things, miss? It will help us with his punishment. The more detail, the better” he placed his plate down, grabbing his pen and notepad.

"O- Officer... I uh..." Y/n gulped. "I- I can't..." She felt ashamed

“Why not? We should know so we can sentence him longer in the court. This is not okay. And you’re a foreigner. So it may also come under bullying.” His tone was soft and assuring as he looked at her, concerned.

It took the student a bit of persuasion before she spoke, hanging her head low and fingers fidgeting in her lap. "I... I was being naughty with myself... A- And they took p- pictures from my window... A- And taunted me about my... p- preferences, s- sir..." She put her own plate on the table now.

The man only hummed, nodding in an understanding manner. “That’s such a disgusting thing for him to do…” Before the man continued. “You shouldn’t do those nasty things while your windows are open either, Miss… You never know who will be watching.”

Y/n was blushing hard as her cheeks felt extremely hot. "I am sorry, s- sir... I won't do it again..." She couldn’t help but reply obediently. Her sub side sometimes got the best of her.

Besides… The officer was so handsome... It wasn’t helping her situation here.

.

A few hours later when it was bedtime and Y/n went to sleep in her room after taking care of her assignments and on the work she missed at school today, the officer got comfy on the couch. He was going to be here until tomorrow morning. Unless something happened. The girl was so tired she fell asleep easily, feeling protected and warm despite the terrible weather outside.

It was really late at night when Y/n woke up to a phone call.. "Hello?" It was the police, informing her that the officer that had been sent to her house had a bad ‘accident’ on the way and whether she still needed an officer.

The girl’s eyebrows at first in confusion before it sunk in and her blood ran cold as the phone fell from her shaking hands. At the same time she felt someone next to her. On the fucking bed. Pure terror filled her and she slowly turned to look at the relaxed figure dressed in the uniform. A shaky cry left her as she started trembling, literally mortified.

“Tsk... The stupid cops ruined the fun.” His voice was nowhere near that gentle and warm comforting voice now. Instead a low and deep hiss filled with nothing but mock.

.

San's eyebrows were frowned when he saw the cop car pulling up. "Oh no... you did not, Princess." The male smirked and shook his head slowly as he noted that it was only one officer. Moving through the shadows, he pulled out his blade from the pocket of his pants, expertly swirling it around in his hand and toying with it like he usually did. "Now, let’s see why do you need the officer, babygirl" his voice was barley a whisper as he made his way over to the car.

San was always so slick with his movements, catching the non-existent sounds of his figure were barely audible to the human ear. Before the officer could even realise there was someone around, the male had banged his head against one of the entrance walls of the low rent cheap apartment building, dragging him into the darkness with him before stealing his clothes and then dumping his body in the river along his car.

It didn't even take him long. He was fast, accurate in his calculations and confident in his abilities. "Now, to my Princess' rescue" chuckling to himself as he climbed the stairs, pinning the nameplate reading 'Park Seonghwa' on his breast pocket before ringing the bell to her apartment.

.

"The real fun is only starting" San sang as he pinned her down on the bed, holding her wrists tight above her head. "You have no idea how many nights I've watched you touch that bitchy cunt of yours." His hard bulge rubbed against her thigh.

An astonished Y/n was trembling, warm piss suddenly starting to leak out of her in pure terror as her heart threatened to burst out of the skin of her chest. Oh no! Is that what she thought this was?! It took her brain a few moments to understand it as the realisation sunk in like a ton of bricks. "Y- You... You're... You..." She could only whisper, eyes widened to the shape of saucers as an evil grin made its way on his features.

As San felt the bed getting warm, he started laughing at the girl condescendingly. "Look at you! Pissing yourself like a baby! How pathetic and disgusting! Did you really think anyone would help you, tsk?" He loved how she was shaking, the glow of her skin caused by the little droplets of sweat, her heartbeat that he could literally feel and the terror in her eyes.

Y/n started crying, the piss not stopping as it pooled inside her thighs. "Y- You're... You're the... stalker…" She whispered, still in disbelief as to how he managed that. "H- How did... How did you..." Oh God. Oh no.

The storm outside was so loud that screaming for help would just be in vain. It was so late no one would even be up...

"Baby, just like you said… I’m the stalker… I know everything about you…" His tone was sensual as he started kissing up the soft skin of her neck, moaning from how soft and delicate it felt. "Fuck! Your skin is even softer than i- it looks…" San felt himself twitch.

The girl was trembling as she slowly put it all together, staring at the ceiling as a feeling of despair and hopelessness filled her. "Y- You were p- pretending a- all this time! You're not the officer!" Adrenaline filled her as she kneed his cock, swiftly turning on her stomach and crawling off the bed before rushing out of the room. Nobody could hear the commotion. It was too loud outside.

"FUCK! YOU BITCH!" San yelled before laughing loudly. He loved this. Finally something enjoyable in his once lone and bland life. Holding his crotch, the male after her to catch the girl before she got away, catching her easily. "Where do you think you’re going?!" A smack landed on her face as punishment for what she did.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! Y- YOU CREEPY BASTARD!" Oh she would be getting a lot of beating for this! "H- HOW DARE YOU STALK ME A- AND THEN ENTER MY HOUSE! ILL R- REPORT YOU!" As she reached out to my table to hit him with something, her hand so conveniently ended up grabbing the razor and swung it back, going to hit him with it on the head.

San laughed tauntingly and caught her arm before she could hit him and shook his head, sighing. "Now now, isn’t this the razor you were holding when you played with that tiny little cunt of yours?" The shiny object dangled in his hand.

"P- PLEASE!" She remembered the text he'd sent her. "PLEASE! I- I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT DON'T DO THIS! PLEASE! I BEG YOU!" Y/n had no idea what to say.

"Aww sweetie…" His words were soft. Almost. "Keep your begs for the time when I'll be pounding that dirty little pussy of yours." San held her hands above her head. "You like to be owned, huh? You like to serve your Master and show everyone how much of an obedient little whore you are?"

Y/n was crying harder now, afraid because she didn't know what was going to happen. "N- No! Please no! It's not true! P- Please just let me go! I- I don't want to!" Oh but she had a being kidnapped and raped fantasy. She loved the thought of someone dangerous, like San, terrifying her and fucking her, making her into his cockwhore. And he knew it. She wanted it all. The girl loved the fear and force. But all of it actually happening was something she'd never thought of. "Please! Let me go!" How could it? A whole fantasy becoming true?

"Oh please, my little slut! Let’s not fool ourselves here. I know you love the thrill of this, I know you LOVE getting used like a worthless little toy and I will give you what you want. You can try to resist me all you want but you’ll never get away from me. You're mine. I'll always catch you. You're mine and belong with me." Her eyes were on the razor as she kept thinking about the text he'd sent.

Y/n tried to reach out of his iron strong hold and snatch the razor from him. "Nu-uh…" San sang out as he held the object above him. "What if I shaved your head while I’m destroying that slutty pussy, huh? Would you like that you little whore?"

"No! NO! NO PLEASE!" Oh… But she felt wetness trickling down her leg. Oh no.

"My my!" The man chuckled darkly. "What’s this?" He swiped a finger up her bare thigh. "God, you’re such a pathetic whore, trying to fool yourself by saying no but I know you’re enjoying this. How stupid and dumb. Stupid slut!" His free hand smacked her face before grabbing her hands again.

"N- No! No! Please stop! This i- isn't what it looks like!" Before she somehow broke free again, this time biting his hand before she managed to reach the door, trying to unlock it but her hands were sweaty and cold, fingers literally frozen as she struggled to open the locks, cursing when they kept slipping against the metal.

San pushed Y/n up against the door with the most force he could come up with and pounced himself on her, letting his hard cock feel up her ass. "Don’t fight it anymore." And with that, he pulled her pj shorts down and turned her around before spreading her legs and pushed her up against the door, unclothing his cock and aligning his tip against her vagina before forcefully thrusting into her without warning before moaning loudly, throwing his head back. "God! Such a tight little nasty cunt!" San moaned and kissed along her neck, feeling like he'd go crazy from how delicate and nice her skin tasted.

The girl moaned loudly in pain, a warm stream of blood trickling down the man's monster cock. "O- Oh my God!" A sick part of her wondered if he would also shave her head and face... "I- IT BURNS!" A scream tumbled out of her lips.

"Oh… You were a virgin? Such a nasty little thing. Everyone thinks you’re an innocent little girl but in reality, you’re just a needy little bitch! Needy for cock! All the time!" He picked her up and carried the girl back to her room while still keeping his cock in her before plugging the razor in. "Come here!"

Oh yes. Oh no! Oh… She was having a battle with herself. Did she want this or did she not want this?! "PLEASE... S- SIR..."  Please yes or please no...? She didn't even know what was happening anymore. This was fucking crazy. Her stalker who had done God knows what to the cop and had entered her house after watching her for who knew how long. The stalker that had a private photo of her and she didn't even know how many other materials. And now was on top of her like this...

"Please what, babydoll?" San pulled her in and kissed the soft trembling lips roughly, loving how good she tasted and felt.

Y/n cried against his lips, the man's huge cock still in her wet and tight walls. "I- I am scared! P- People will laugh!" Was that the only thing she cared about?

"So you want me to, but scared people will laugh?" San smirked while pushing his hips back and forth, moaning with each thrust. "Let them laugh, that will turn you on even more because you love getting humiliated. I know you too well, baby.”

Y/n had faced such rejection and hostility her whole life from different people she had trusted with her safety from time to time… this was driving her crazy. Her messy emotions got the best of her at the end of it. Her breaths were heavy. "Y- You're right... You know me so well..." She started speaking his language. "Y- You want me? O- Or you'll leave me too?" This was wrong; sick.

“No. I am staying by your side and you’re staying by me. I’ve wanted you for so long... you have no idea.” He groaned at how good she felt, biting back the whimpers threatening to fall out of his lips from the pleasure. “You have no idea just how many nights I have jerked off thinking it was your tiny little pussy, hugging my cock as you moaned and begged me for more, slut.”

The girl blushed, feeling like she was dreaming. This felt perfect… at least to her troubled mind. "You're crazy... You're scary... You made me piss myself out of pure…” She whispered slowly, a small smile making its way on her lips. “...P- Please own me... P- Please shave me... my head and face... make me look like a dumb slut... s- sir... Your dumb slut..." Her shaky hand turned the razor on for him, pussy suddenly clenching around him as she finally acknowledged the pleasure it was receiving, a soft moan escaping her.

“Mmm... that’s my good slut” San hummed and praised, taking the now on machine and placing it against her hairline before running it down the top of her head, both of them moaning, Y/n from the feeling and San from the sight of the sight of now small bristles between her locks as his hips pushed in and out even faster.

The man now shaved off another strip from the spot besides the previously shaved one, humming as he remembered something and took the machine to her eyebrows first and pressed it against the skin, feeling himself hit her g-spot as her eyes rolled to the top of her head, mouth falling open as the male erased the hair above her eyes.

"Yes, s- sir! Please make me your good slut! I- I love you! I'll never leave you! Please never leave me, Master!" She started crying out of joy, kissing his hands as her unstable emotions made her feel absolute joy. He had accepted her as she truly was. In her darkest form. “Please write funny things o- on my skinhead when you’re done. I am a dumb whore!” To her, there wasn’t a man more great than him.

“Fuck yes… That you are.” San grunted as he started to shear the rest of her long locks like one would to a sheep. “You are my dumb little slut who will do nothing but serve her Master from now on!” His free hand landed a smack on her head which was showing up more and more, nothing but thin stubble covering the skin.

"Yes I will, Master! Please! Please treat me like trash!" Y/n clenched around him, near to cumming. “Trash that was born to take your cock! You're so good to me! I wish you'd snuck in my house this morning and raped me right there! I wish you'd have shaved my head and forced me to go to college like that! It would have been a pleasure to be humiliated like that and by you!” She was literally crying out of pleasure

“Oh..” The man chuckled while panting. “I will force you to go like this baby, don’t worry.” He promised as he snapped his hips even faster, feeling himself getting close from the sight and all her filthy confessions. “And I will wake you up by fucking you every morning, making you a mess and sending you off to college like that.” It was done, the only hair on the girl’s head slight messy stubble that he’d remove with a hand razor later to reveal the skin underneath.

"Yes, please! Please always only force me and rape me! Please keep me bald! Keep me at your feet! Please feed me your piss and cum! I want to be your hand and footrest! I want to be an object for you to fuck! A bitch for you to breed! Your little animal! I JUST WANT TO BE YOURS! I WANT TO BE THE DIRT UNDER YOUR FEET!" She was sobbing as she started cumming hard, her tiny body spasming in pleasure while holding one of San's hands because it was her first time cumming from sex.

Y/n wrapped her arms around him from the intensity of it and kissed him while he played with her tits, pinching her nipples painfully as he kissed the girl back and let her ride out her high before pulling out. “On your knees!” San kept pumped himself until he came all over the girl’s pretty face and mouth. “That’s my good little cumdumpster.”

She smiled and started to kiss his cock and hands in respect, then his balls. Y/n really had truly submitted. "You're perfect, Master! Where have you been all my life?!" A pout made its way on her lips as she whined, hugging his leg and kissing it, not daring to go further up out of fear.

San was satisfied with her behavior. “I’m here now baby… And I am never leaving.” He kissed the younger one and slapped her ass lightly after helping her get up. “Lets get cleaned, doll.”

"Master, I wanna drink your piss." She shamelessly told him, not standing up, taking his cum off her face with her hand and greedily sucking at it. "A- And I wanna kiss your feet!" She was way too eager for this.

The man chuckled at her request. “You want to drink my piss? Then open up, my whore.” San held his cock over her mouth before putting pressure on his bladder, whimpering before the hot stream hit her lips.

Y/n was obediently on her knees drinking all of it after cringing at the taste a little, moaning happily. It was her first time drinking anyone's piss. She was in heaven. She finally had an owner! The girl made sure not one drop went to waste. "Thank you so much, Master! It is amazing!" The younger one stopped drinking and let his piss wet her face before starting to kiss his feet, fully in her subspace.

“You’re such an obedient little girl.” San praised, not being able to hold back the smile as he watched her, never having imagined her willingly being like this for him in such a short time period. But then again, he wasn’t surprised. “Good girl.” He cooed patting her head.

Y/n desperately kissed his hand and grabbed it, starting to cry. "M- Master... everyone leaves me... P- Please don't leave me... I- I'll die!" She almost promised him, nothing short of a maniac. Maybe she was even more twisted than San, in a way

“I’ll never leave you, you’re mine and everyone will know that.” Cupping her cheeks, he passionately kissed her, already making plans in his head about how he will modify all of her features as his perfect little pet.

The girl giggled, sucking at his lips greedily. "Master! Your piss was on my face!" She tried to get it off. "Give it back! Ish mine!" Huffing, she lapped at his piss like a needy little bitch.

San chuckled from her antics and swiped his fingers on the pretty face before holding them up against her lips. “Open up…” He let her suck on the piss covering his fingers. “Fuck... you’re so perfect for me.”

Holding his arm like a child, Y/n started sucking on his fingers greedily, smiling. "Thank you, Master!" Before she made his fingers hit the back of her throat, making herself gag and loving it all. "Mashter Mashter! Whatsh your name?" The girl questioned while deep throating his fingers.

“It’s San, baby.” The man replied with a smile, watching her choke on his fingers, her warm drool trickling down his long fingers.

"Shan! Ish sho pretty! I am Y/n!" Letting go of his hand, she hugged him which was returned with a chuckle.

“I know, babygirl.”

"M- Mashter... I- I dunno why b- but... I- I shaw a video too a- and I want you to s- shove my shaved hair u- up my assh and i- in my mouth... a- and take picturesh... Hehe I am sho naughty!" His eyebrows raised as she hid in his chest, a smirk forming on his lips.

San patted her messily shaved head. “Yes. You are, baby. You’re fucking naughty but okay. Daddy is here to help his little girl with all her little disgusting whore fantasies.”

"Y- You wanna?" Before she chirped again. "Mashter I want to be owned like an object a-nd like an animal! I wanna be like a p- piggy! A- And I want you to b- beat me and whip me e- everywhere a- and I wanna be bruished! A- And I want to be raped all the time!" She was too fucking sick and twisted but now that she wasn’t afraid of being judged, she was letting all that was locked deep down out.

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll treat you like one, baby.” San said before chuckling to himself, still in disbelief of just how fucked up she really was.

"A- And I want you to fuck my bummie and not let me cum for monthsh! I wanna be forshed to wear chashtity! I want you to make me cry and beg but you don't give in and only torture me more!" She told him. "Pleashe alwaysh shlap me and my head!"

“Fuck... you’re so naughty baby… I love it.” San almost moaned from the sight before getting a chunk of her shaved hair and shoved it in her mouth before getting his phone and taking pics of her all stuffed and messily bald like that.

The twisted girl smiled in the pictures and eagerly nodded, turning her fat ass in front of him now. "Please put hair in assh too!" She struggled to speak, smiling and posing for all of the pictures.

San actually wanted to take a video of him shoving hair up her ass and so that was what he simply did, laughing. “Look at this disgusting little dumb cock whore! So slutty and needy! Loving to be humiliated and looked like a dumb fucktoy by her owner!” He spat on her.

"Yesh I am! Yesh I am!" Y/n spoke with difficulty, showing her stuffed face and head too, arching her back, imagining herself a beauty goddess of her own kind. "My lobely mashter shaved me! And ish gonna treat me like hish trash and look! I habe hair up my assh! And in my fashe! I've got no eyebrowsh!"

“My good little slave… All mine… So submissive” San praised, kicking her ass in the camera and chuckling at her squeak, watching her clench the hair up when her pucker winked. “You’re really loving this, aren’t you?” Lifting her face, he spat on her forehead.

"I ammmm~" she whined, face red before starting to try to rub her cunt against the floor.

“Look at her trying to desperately rub her slutty cunts on the floor…” He filmed it all. Fuck. He loved seeing Y/n all dirty and submissive for him.

Drool was dripping down her chin and boobs. "Yesh Mashter! O- Onwy fow yoooouuu~" a needy whimper left her.

“Mmm... yes, only for me” San spoke and slapped her hard which the girl loved, getting even more wet and kissing his hands. "I- I... cum pleashe..." She whimpered again, loving the control she was in.

“No... get up.” San warned sternly. “You’re not allowed to cum, you’re never allowed to cum.”

"B- But... M- Mashter..." The girl pouted and whined, having forgotten that she was the one that told him that she wanted him to never let her cum and torture her like that.

“Are you talking back to your Master?” Raising an eyebrow, he gripped her chin before slapping her, making sure it was all being recorded so he could fuck her to it later.

Her pussy tingled. “N- No! No Mashtew owwiieee…” The hair in her ass and mouth tickled humiliatingly.

"That’s what I thought" San husked and threw the phone on the bed before pushing her on the carpet again. "Tell me when you’re close."

"M- Mashtewwww" Y/n started crying like a little baby, shaking and dropping the hair from her mouth because it was getting hard to breathe.

"Did I say you could drop the hair?!" The man growled darkly before pushing the hair back in. "Breathe through your nose, dumb slut!"

The girl let out a cry, trembling and sobbing as she nodded. He was rough. It was making her cry. But she also loved it and felt wet. "Yesh!" She loved being at Master's mercy.

"Good girl." He said pushing her down on the carpet more. "Rub yourself nice and hard slut." Y/n started rubbing herself as he ordered, feeling the carpet burn against her pussy but she couldn't help but love it, biting her bottom lip through her stuffed mouth. Oh… She loved it so much. The girl wanted it to bleed almost… Reaching out to hold his hand, the girl spoke. "You're sho perfect... I wish I'd m- met you when I wash l- little..."

"I wish that too baby, fuck... I’d fuck you every night while your parents were peacefully sleeping in the next room…"

"Y- You'd fuck me when I wash a little baby?" This was fucking revolting and twisted. They were both utterly sick. Y/n kept moaning loudly and getting wetter, rubbing harder and harder. "Y- Your fat cock i- in my toothlessh mouth... AHHH... I wouldn't need miwk... You'd have fed me your Mashtew milk fwom youw cock..."

"Fuck yes!" He growled as he felt himself getting hard. "Yes baby… I'd feed you my cum every day. You'd have grown up getting your nutrients from it, eh?"

"Daddy... Daddy... You'd be my Daddy? But inshtead of miwk you'd feed me youw cum evewyday? Ish the besht miwk!" She was very close and her eyes fluttered shut when he started playing with her tits and pinched her nipples before pulling at them. "Then I'd say I grew up drinking Mashtew's cock miwk! Hehehe!" The girl was too far gone.

"God, yes! You’re such a filthy and sick whore!" San knew she were close so he pulled her up. "No cumming!" It made the girl whine loudly and she fell on her face.

"Mashtewwwwww!" Before she curled in his feet, calming down a little when he didn't give in and ripped her pussy away from the carpet. "M- Mashtew... p- pleashe may I wemove haiw now...?" It was getting stuck to her mouth.

"Yes. You may, my little cum rag." The male wanted to use her mouth and feed her his cum so he allowed.

Y/n dropped it and quickly cleaned her tongue and inside of the cheeks with her tiny hands. "Bleg... hehe~" she curled in his waist, rubbing her tiny head against his chest.

"Good girl~" he patted her head before pushing her back in position. "Now use that mouth good baby…" San pushed his cock down her narrow throat, loving how tight and warm she was, making her gag from the rush of it in an instant.

The girl gagged but enjoyed it, loving it all. She quickly started sucking his cock, grazing her teeth against it and swirling her tongue. Y/n had watched all that porn for a reason. Kissing his balls, she sucked on them, whimpering from how his private hair tickled her nose.

"Fuck! look at you! Sucking on master’s cock like a starved bitch!" He slapped her again, feeling his shape against the skin of her cheeks. "You love it, don’t you?!"

"Yesh! Yesh! Yesh!" She hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head up and down his shaft, sucking and whining as San rubbed the top of his foot against her pussy, smacking her bald head before pushing his cock all the way down her throat, tightly clasping the back of her head.

The man groaned loudly as he twitched in the soft walls of her throat, washing her throat with his hot semen before cleaning her up and finally shaving her head fully until there was nothing but glossy skin left before they went to bed.

"I have shchool tomorrow... Mashter do you go to shchool?" Y/n yawned as she snuggled into San's built chest, whimpering and smiling whenever the realisation of who he was hit her.

She loved being owned.

"No I don't. I will be right here when you come back, my pretty slut." San said while kissing her softly like he hadn't unleashed his sadistic likes on her.

"Why don't you go to school?" She suddenly pouted. "Then how will Mashter have a career?! You'll be poow! I dun wan poow Mashtew!" Y/n huffed brattily. She didn't really care about that, only wanting to see his response because she loved to piss off her top.

"You don’t really have a choice, sweetheart." The male gritted out. "You’re stuck with me forever. If I am living on the streets, you’re living with me."

She opened her mouth to brat but the bell rang. Rushing to the door, Y/n opened it to reveal a police officer. "Oh... hi..." The officer smiled a bit at her and asked the girl if she still needed an officer and why she had hung up when they called. "O- Oh no officer... I was just being paranoid... It wasn't anyone..." Y/n's cheeks blushed because she could see the officer was staring at her shiny bald head and eyebrows. Feeling herself getting wet as humiliation made her blush, Y/n found herself wondering what it'd feel like if he smacked her on her head. The girl's nipples got hard.

But oh... she couldn't cum!

"Okay then, be careful, Miss." He tipped her hat, nodding a little before walking off.

Y/n felt so wet. "Have a good night, officer!" A giggle left her as the man disappeared, starting to rub herself against the door up and down, running her hand against her head.

"Now, what was that?!" San deeply spoke, pushing the girl against the door, making her head hit against it embarrassingly. "Did you forget who alone can make you wet?!" The male yelled before slapping her. "You sick little exhibition loving whore! Not even you can do what you like to yourself! You're all mine! Only I can do whatever I please to your whore body!"

"Yes... You... You sir!" Y/n closed her eyes and held her hands above her head, lowering it for him to slap. "Please hit my head... Ugh... fuck me up... I want my head to be bruised... Ugh fuck! I am so wet... Please beat me!"

"What a disgusting little trash!" The man laughed, slapping her head this time. "You love people making fun of you, huh?"

"Yes I do! Yes I do!" She whined. "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make fun of me! Humiliate me! Hit me and bruise me! Make fun of me! Humiliate and degrade me! I want my whole college to laugh at me!" A loud cry left her.

"Let’s get you bruised up, then." San decided and started slapping the girl's tiny head and face until it was all red and sore. Y/n was crying by the time he was done, literally sobbing as she just fell on her knees and knocked out of exhaustion, her owner carrying her to the bed and then laying next to her knocked out form.

"Good night, my love." The male kissed her soft and red cheek before falling asleep too, holding her fragile body close to his, his slumber calm and satisfying today after so long.

.

Y/n stirred as she felt her pussy being invaded the next morning, making her stir as she felt lips upon her own and fingers pinching her nipples as her other boob was being groaped, her pussy expanding and sucking in a huge cock. San's huge cock. "M- Master~!" She whispered out when her eyes flew open and she was met with San's face. "W- What… s- so early?!"

"I promised you I'd wake you by fucking you every morning, didn't I, my slut?" He grinned and attacked her lips, eliciting an excited gigglish moan out of her as he started to fuck her fast and rough, pushing his balls in all the way.

“Y- Yes! Yes! F- Fuck!” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head from the realisation that he had been fucking her in her sleep before she woke up, feeling him twitch inside her. “M- Master! I- I… c- cum…” Y/n tried to speak, her back arching from the pleasure of him biting on her nipples before smacking her bald head softly.

“Little breeding whores don’t get to cum, baby. They just take cock and let Master use them like the cum rags that they are.” San’s cock slammed in and out of her pussy, his hand gripping her neck for support when she clenched around him. “Fuck! So tight!”

Tears welled up in her eyes as her face got red from how rough his thrusts were, how much her clit was burning for stimulation, how much her ovaries hurt to cum. “Look at this hairless little whore! Unable to even breathe without my permission let alone cum!” He spat in her mouth before turning her around and pushing up her ass, chuckling when she whined out.

“Sorry, slut. Little whores don’t get what they want around here and only please Master as they are supposed to.” Grabbing a sharpie, San started writing on her head whilst choking her with one hand, pounding her harder and harder up her ass. “Hurry up and please your Master well so we can go to an important place before you go to school.”

‘I am a bald little nasty slut. Please hit my head. I love it.’ Was written on the back of her head as the man laughed, deciding to not tell her what he’d done just yet, waiting for her to find out later when the people on campus would be warming that cueball up.

.

Y/n was whimpering as San waved at her and she shakily walked inside her college with a bald head, wearing nothing inside her skirt as she sneakily pushed the slipping ass plug back inside her cum filled ass. Lowering her bald head now that she was outside and people were staring at her new look, the girl gulped and felt herself squeezing her legs when some girl giggled at her.

Fuck… She couldn’t help but bite her lip, loving the humiliation as her cheeks felt hot.

Master had gotten her pussy, septum and nipples pierced before walking her to college. He was going to buy a special leash for that that was going to be passed through all her piercings to ensure she was in his control at all times.

Her train of thoughts was broken when a smack landed on her head by a guy passing by before he chuckled at her shocked expression. Before the girl could question him, she received a text by San. A picture message. Of what was written on the back of her head.

Widening her eyes, Y/n gasped and her hand automatically grazed against her head. No wonder the piercing lady had lightly smacked it before Master and she had laughed at the girl. “N- No… you didn’t…” She whispered in shock before one of her ‘friends’ smacked her head, making it jerk forwards.

“Cute look, Y/n.” Before she walked off to class, the people passing by gave her looks and talked about her.

Fuck… She squeezed her thighs in utter humiliation as the wind blew, making her desperately try to keep her skirt down as wetness trickled down her thigh. The girl wasn’t allowed to touch herself and not cumming was one of the rules now upon Master’s order and her foolish confession. She had a whole day to last before getting home and begging him to let her earn it.

Her ass stuffed, body owned, everyone silently chuckling at her humiliating look and getting smacks to the head like that wasn’t going to help.

“Oh, Master…” She whined to herself in despair. “What have you done?”

.

[demonicheadcanons]

Can I get the brothers reacting to finding MCs sketchbook and it’s filled with drawings of the demon who picked it up? All of them are masterpieces and some are angsty or sad, others happy, some just them doing mundane things. When confronted, MC just says “Of course I draw you all the time, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re my muse.” Thank you in advance, if it’s too complicated you can skip.

AN: This cute prompt has been sitting in my inbox for far too long. Thanks for sending this in Nonny <3 I love this idea. I tried to keep each scenario short so I could get this done quickly, as you’ve waited long enough for it. Tried is the key word here ;u;

You’re maybe already dating the boys in these? Or very close? They’re not explicitly romantic but have some affection. I also didn’t make the MC say these exact words, or even anything at all in some of these prompts, but the general feeling is still there. I hope that’s alright!

Lucifer

You left the book behind when studying together, rushing off to meet up with Mammon after you realised you were late and would hear hell for it. He notices it sometime later, too busy relishing on even the short period of time he’d gotten to spend alone with you in relative peace.

He picks it up and, curious, with no worries that you might not really want him to look through it, he flips it open to the first page. He realises what it is right away, and continues to flip through the pages until he gets to a drawing of him. Its such a perfect represention of the moment that he can recall exactly when you must’ve drawn this.

You’d come into his room to have a break from all the noise in the rest of the house, and you had laid on your stomach on his bed and worked away at something as he went through paperwork at his desk. He’d wanted to ask you, at the time, what had you so focused, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin the sight.

He continues to flip through the pages, and frowns slightly for every drawing he sees of one of his brothers, but his lips twitch up every time there’s even a simple doodle of him. He counts, unconsciously, and realises you’ve drawn him more than anyone else. Pride swells in his chest, so very familiar and not at the same time.

He hears the tapping at his door and calls out, immediately, for you to come in. He knows that knock, after all, and you’re one of the few members of the house that he wouldn’t hear coming down the corridor. He leans against the front of his desk, holding your book open in front of him, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d looked through it.

The particular sketch he’s looking at is one where you must’ve been close - you’ve detailed in every long, delicate eyelash, his hair falling in front of his face and his lips slightly parted, only the faintest frown on his face as he focuses hard on his work. He smiles as he tips the book forward, watching as your eyes are drawn to it. To his surprise, you only smile, relieved, raising a hand to your chest.

“Thank goodness, I did leave it here after all.”

You walk over and hop up onto his desk, leaning towards him as you try to see which sketch he’s looking at. He slouches a little more to make you comfortable and shows the sketch.

“You’ve drawn me a lot,” he comments.

“Of course. You’re beautiful, how could I resist?”

He presses a kiss to your temple and rests his head against yours, smiling. He doesn’t often like people commenting on his appearance - he was confident enough about it, knew how he looked, but he didn’t need to hear about it all the time. Still, from you, it didn’t hurt. Especially not if you felt inspired enough by it to draw him.

.

[[Other brothers are under the read more]]

Mammon

Mammon had burst into your room and you weren’t there. Frustrated by your absence and unsure of when to expect you back, he decides to pick through your stuff. He wasn’t going to steal any of it - he’d been called out by Beel about that, before, and whilst he’d denied it at the time he knew it was true. He’d much rather steal something for you than from you.

The book is open on your desk to a page full of mindless doodles. It piques his curiosity, and he grabs it and sits down, kicking his feet up on top of your desk. It wasn’t like you were there to tell him not to, and you’d left without telling him where you were going so he was going to do whatever he wanted until you got back.

He flicks back to the start of the book, and honestly his first thoughts are about how you could easily sell these drawings for a lot of Grimm. Sketches of the Devildom, of flowers and creatures you couldn’t find in the human realm, of how the Devildom looked all lit up with the moon overhead, from the highest balcony in the RAD building. He’s in awe, mouth a faint ‘o’ shape as he continues to turn page by page.

The first drawing of him makes him freeze up. He was a model, Mammon knew he must be handsome. But he’d never felt it like he did now. In the drawing, he’s sitting on the floor, cushion in his lap as he plays some game on a controller. His expression is somewhere between frustrated and delighted, his hair fluffy and messy because he’d been running his hands through it.

He remembers - you’d been having trouble adapting to the Devildom so he stole- borrowed a console from Levi, but you were too tired to play. He played anyway, hoping that at least watching him would distract you enough, and to convince himself that he was in part doing it for him too and not to entertain some random human.

You walk in and he slams the book shut, but its too late - you’ve seen him holding it. You don’t seem mad about that, though, and instead glare at how he has his feet up on your desk. He adjusts quickly, fumbling as he tries to put on his confident act, walking over to you as he waves the sketchbook in the air.

“What’s this, then? You’ve been drawing me without asking me first?” he asks, teasing lilt falling flat in his voice. His face feels far too warm, as it often does when he’s around you.

“I couldn’t help it. You’re so pretty I just had to.” You shrug, nonchalant. You swipe the book from his hand and sit on your bed, tapping the space beside you. “How far in did you get?”

Mammon pouts as he goes to sit beside you. “Not far.” As he sits beside you, he grabs your sides and pulls you to lay down, holding the sketchbook open up in the air. He’s desperate for some attention right now, but he wanted to keep looking at your art. “Let’s look through the rest together.”

.

Leviathan

Levi was flustered. You’d been spending time in his room, and he loved your presence but it took him so long to get used to it each time that you stopped in to hang out with him. You’d brought the book you always had with you, and were working away on something, laying on your stomach on the floor with a Ruri-chan plushie in one arm.

He fumbles with his controller and sighs as he misses yet another jump in the game he was trying hard to distract himself with. Every time he glances over, he wants to ask what you’re doing, why you’re here with him when you could easily do your work elsewhere or with any of his brothers, if you were really happy to just sit in his presence like this. His voice dies in his throat and his face flushes when he catches sight of you, so he never does get to ask.

He’d messed up one too many times and was starting to get frustrated when he glanced over and realised you were looking at him, too. Heat floods into his face, and his frustrations die before he can even mumble out his signature ‘this is so unfair’. You smile, going back to your work before dropping your pencil. You wiggle around until you’re sitting, cross-legged, and hold out your sketchbook.

It was a drawing. You’d been drawing, and you’d been drawing him. Levi leans closer hesitantly, wanting to get a better look at it, trying not to think about how giddy and anxious your proud smile made him feel. He works up the courage to take the book out of your hands and looks over the drawing. It takes a long time before he can say anything, too busy focusing on all the little details - how his face is scrunched up from frustration and concentration, how his headphone cord is coiled around his fingers from when he’d been playing with it and hadn’t untangled it fully, how his head was tilted to stop his hair from fully falling in front of his eyes.

“You... its really good, but, I don’t... I’m not this handsome,” he mumbles, face bright red, and he flinches when you laugh.

“You are. More-so, actually, but its hard to capture from this distance.”

Levi can’t respond, just swallows. You sigh, something fond in it, and walk on your knees until you can fall against his side, cuddling up to the Ruri-chan plushie.

“Look through the other drawings. I only draw what I find beautiful. That’s why I drew you.”

His smile is faint, but its enough. He’s hearing your words, even if they’re hard to process for him. He relaxes and flips back to the front page, ready to look at the rest of your work with you.

.

Satan

Books were commonplace in his room. They were part of the furniture - quite literally, as they were piled up everywhere, even on top of his bed, although he’d made an effort to stop putting them there so long as you were spending time with him, so that you had somewhere comfortable to sit or lay whilst you were reading.

And yet, he always noticed when one was out of place, or when a new book had joined his collection without his knowing. Sometimes this happened because his brothers had found something interesting but weren’t willing to say aloud that it had reminded them of him, or that they bought it because he might enjoy it, so they’d simply popped into his room and added it to a stack. It was normal at this point.

That’s why he didn’t question it when there was a new book left on his bed, and when he didn’t hesitate to lay down and open it up, curious as to what story one of his brothers had left for him this time. Instead, he’s met with drawings. Amazing drawings of the Devildom, of his brothers... and of him.

There are notes, as well, few and far between, that allow him to place this as being your book. He knew that scrawl. He felt guilty to look through your sketchbook without your permission, but now that he’d already opened it, he was too curious to leave it be. He’d be honest about it later and deal with the consequences then, or joke about how you’d been drawing him without his permission so you were equal now.

The drawings were beautiful, more detailed that he’d seen for casual doodles left in a book without being shown to the subjects in them. He takes his time to look over each page carefully, each drawing filling his heart with something foreign, sweet and sticky like berry pie. He spends extra time focusing on each drawing of himself, wonders how and why you’d made him look so soft. It was hard for him to get portraits done as his presence could invoke anger in others and leave harsh and angry lines and brush strokes on the canvas, but clearly he didn’t have that same influence on you - instead, each drawing of him was more delicate than any of the others, like you’d put more effort in.

Satan returns it to you later, a smile on his face. He does apologise immediately, for looking at the drawings without your permission.

“Its alright. I’m just glad you found it for me.” You’re completely cheery, not bothered at all, and Satan sighs in relief.

“You’ve drawn me quite a lot,” he notes.

“Well obviously. I spend the most time with you,” you say, smiling when you catch the faint pout he covers up. That wasn’t what he had expected or wanted you to say, clearly. Nor was it all you had to say on the matter. “Also, you’re very beautiful. I wanted to try and capture that and keep a little for myself.”

He smiles now, content, and pats you on the head. “If you want me around, you only have to ask.”

.

Asmodeus

You’d been working away at something as he picked out an outfit and fixed his hair, and he’d been dying to ask but he just needed to adjust a few more strands first - you were going out to Majolish together and he wanted to look perfect. He always did, of course, but when the two of you were going out together he put in even more effort than usual.

When he finally finishes, he jumps up out of his chair and rushes over to you.

“How do I look?” he asks, beaming, full of confidence as always.

“Fabulous,” you say, reaching out to readjust a few strands of hair that had fallen out of place from his quick movements. He sits down on his bed beside you and pulls you up until you’re sitting beside him, hugging you around your waist.

“What were you doing whilst you were waiting? You looked so focused, it was adorable~” Asmo chirps, looking pointedly at the sketchbook. His eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Wait, is that me?”

You nod, lifting your sketchbook up so that the two of you could see it properly. You’d been drawing him, just little sketches as he flitted about the room doing this and that to get ready. You couldn’t have spent long on each one, and yet they captured him perfectly. He looked elegant in each, determined and beautiful.

You flicked back to the previous page before he could comment, and Asmo’s breath caught in his throat. This drawing was him, it was so brilliant an example of everything that he was. He was looking at you and smiling, and you’d captured the love and admiration in his eyes so perfectly he wondered if this was somehow a photograph.

Asmo tears up and hugs you tighter, burying his face against your neck. You can feel him smile wide against your skin. He stays like that for only a moment before his excitement bubbles up to the surface and he litters your cheek, nose, and forehead with feather-light kisses. He’d do anything for the one who saw him as he was.

.

Beelzebub

Beel had a pretty normal schedule for each day - he’d exercise, go to school, spend time with you and Belphie or his other brothers if they were around and alright with it, and of course, he’d eat quite a lot. You had a good idea of where he’d be throughout the day, and when you had the time for it, you’d accompany him so he wasn’t alone. Whether that meant sitting on the counter as he dug through the fridge, or laying on the sofa with your head in his lap and your feet in Belphie’s, you just liked to spend time with him.

And, a lot of the time, he noticed you had this little book with you. He’d caught you glancing at him many times, but didn’t think anything of it. He glanced at you a lot, too, so maybe it was only to be expected. He’d gotten used to the butterflies in his stomach when you two randomly linked eyes and you grinned, twirling your pencil around in your hand.

A lot of your time was spent together in relative silence, as well, and he was accustomed to hearing your pencil scratch against the paper. But he never asked what you were doing, because if you wanted to tell him you would. He trusted you to do that. And his trust paid off, when you were both watching a show together.

He notices early on that you're paying more attention to him than the screen, and when the episode finishes you tap him gently on the shoulder before stretching out your wrists. He looks to you, tilting his head in curiosity until you hold the book open in front of him.

It was a drawing of him, focused on the screen, odd lighting casting shadows against his form. He had something in his hand, some sort of food, but you’d put more attention into actually drawing him. So much attention that he was sure no matter how long he looked, there would always be something more to notice.

“Its me?” he asks, unsure lilt in his voice. He looks bashful, like he’s done something wrong. “Why?”

You stretch out your arms again, thinking, and finally answer, “Because you looked beautiful, and I wanted to draw you?”

It was neither easy nor hard to make Beel blush, and most of the time it just seemed to happen. You hadn’t caught onto the pattern yet, hadn’t been able to perfect it so that you could make it happen whenever you wanted. But you smile in silent victory now as his ears and cheeks flush a reddish pink, pairing nicely with his wide eyes.

His surprise gives way to a smile, and he leans over to wrap his arms around you, holding you close. All he can manage is a thank you, but with that you know how much he appreciates it, how much he appreciates you.

.

Belphegor

Belphie would often drag you off to the attic, and whilst he enjoyed the times where you would curl up in his arms and nap with him until you absolutely had to get up, he knew he couldn’t expect that of you constantly. You were still human, and you could only sleep so much before you had to get up to stretch or eat or just do something else to occupy your mind.

You’d built up a habit together, now, where if you wanted to get up you’d tap his arm twice and he’d reluctantly let you go. He’d stay awake if you left the room, just enough so that he’d be able to tell when you returned. If you didn’t, he’d have to go seek you out again by himself to drag you back with him and absolutely not just to make sure you were okay. If you did return, he’d go back to sleep and let you do what you wanted, opening his arms up if you tapped on them again to crawl back into his grip. It was peaceful, and though he never said it aloud, he loved it.

Often times, when he did wake up, you’d be sitting nearby in a little bundle of pillows and blankets that you’d made with a book and pencil in hand. You were quick to notice when he woke up, so Belphie could never just watch you to figure out what you were doing, which frustrated him to no end but at the same time it was nice to be known. Still, he was determined to figure it out.

His determination is unnecessary, because one day he wakes up and you’re looking straight at him, smiling contentedly. He woke up too fast, then, heart pounding as he tried to remember that expression. Did you admire him so much to look at him like that, even when he was just sleeping?

“You’re awake,” you say, voice light and cheery.

“And you were watching me sleep, as always,” Belphie scoffs, pulling the blanket up over his face to cover up his blush. “What’s new?”

You pout and stick out your tongue at him, and he lowers the blanket enough to return the gesture. It was hard to remember just how old he was when he acted like that.

“With good reason,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow, and you smile and hold out your sketchbook. He takes it immediately, trying to act nonchalant as he opens it up and flicks through the pages. You barely catch how his eyes widen, how his breath catches and he slows down, taking in each drawing carefully.

“There are... a lot of drawings, of me sleeping,” Belphie says, swallowing, raising the book enough to try to cover his smile. Too late, you think. You’d caught him.

“You look cute like that. Plus, its the only time you sit still enough for me to draw you.”

“Or you’re just that obsessed with me. Weirdo.” He closes the book and hands it back to you, sitting up to stretch. He keeps his eyes on you, notices when you frown the tiniest bit. Was his teasing too much?

He sighs and slides out of bed, sitting in your pile beside you. He leans against you, like a cat looking for attention without wanting to admit it, and takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers.

“Thanks, MC.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

---------------------------------------

rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.