#mirror mirror on the wall heh

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⸝⸝ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 ⸝⸝

a/n: i was thinking about this for a while and just HAD to write it!! Bill's a little freaky but ok. everyone kisses differently and i love how much that says about them :) maybe i'll do a part two tho idk if it'll be smth nsfw or no. also sorry if photos are random i just think it suits gravity falls aesthetic plus i was out of ideas (i want summer)

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚

Stan’s got a thing for forehead kisses, always has, always will. they’re effortless and easy. a quick press of his lips when he passes by, a habit more than anything. he’s a busy man, always moving, always going somewhere, but that doesn’t mean he won’t grab you, tilt your head up and press a warm kiss right to your forehead

it's a way of saying “i gotcha” without actually saying it. doesn’t matter if he’s in a rush, grumbling about tourists, wiping down the counter. he’ll keep you safe. he swears it.

big, warm hands cupping your face. his lips are warm, his stubble scratches against your skin but the moment you start to melt he’s gone.

he pulls back, smirks, winking at you

“gotta give the tourists their money’s worth, sweetheart.” you hear his voice through the walls of the Mystery Shack, always so confident as he launches into his usual con. “step right up, folks! come see the eighth wonder of the world!”

but, oh, don’t let that fool you. he’s a tease, and he knows it.

he’s got another favorite, too

your neck

he makes a game of it. a teasing peck when he leans in to tell you something. a slow, tender kiss at the curve of your throat when he’s feeling particularly smug, when he’s got you pinned between him and the kitchen counter, when he knows you’re hanging on to every little touch.

“heh. what’s that face for, baby? didn’t think id be so smooth, huh?”

he’s a biter, too, making you shiver. he needs to feel the way you react beneath his hands. he likes knowing he can fluster you. likes leaving you breathless, just for him.

and if he’s feeling real bold, his lips might stray lower, making a slow, lazy path along your collarbone. “what? somethin’ wrong? i think I’m right where i wanna be.”

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅

Ford kisses like a man who’s spent most of his life not kissing anyone, like someone who’s read about it, thought about it, imagined it, but never quite gotten the chance. but when he feels the warmth, the closeness, how intimate it is he can’t stop.

he kisses your hands first, always. fingertips, knuckles, the inside of your wrist where your pulse flutters

your shoulders come next. he’ll press his lips there absently while he’s working, when you’re standing beside him reading over his notes. sometimes, he forgets himself, murmuring a distracted “mm, love you” against your skin before his smart brain catches up with his mouth. and oh the way his ears burn when you point it out

also when he’s overwhelmed, when the world is too much, when his mind is too loud, he rests his forehead there, brushing his lips against the curve of your shoulder. he just wants to feel you close

but when he’s really feeling it, when he’s past overthinking and just wants you, it's your calves. he kneels. Ford takes his time, hands so big, shaking a little as he presses his thumb into muscle while tracing a slow path from your ankle up, up, up with his lips

“you never let me appreciate you properly.” he worships you. lets you feel it in every single careful, thorough kiss.

𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓

Bill isn’t bound by flesh, but he's bound by desire

he loves mirrors. loves floating there behind you, his golden triangle form looming over you, all-seeing eye staring right into your soul. oh he loves the way you shudder when you see yourself in the reflection, when you see him, wrapping around you

thousands of long, dark limbs curl around your waist, a hand-like thing at your jaw, tilting your head to the side, exposing your skin to him. Bill's mouth appears where his eye should be and oh, that tongue. . .

“nervous, sweet thing? don’t be. i’ll take real good care of ya.”

his tongue is long. obscenely so. it drags over your throat, a slow, hot stroke that sends a jolt straight through you. you hear him laugh delightfully against your skin, because he knows exactly what he’s doing

“aww who’s my favorite little human, huh? who’s my delicious little slab of meat?”

kiss after kiss, mark after mark, he makes you watch. makes you see the way he devours you.

and he doesn’t stop at your neck, oh no, no, no. he follows your spine. mouth pressing open. dragging his long tongue against the curve of your back, your chest, your stomach

“every inch of you is mine. dont you forget that.”

𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒄𝒈𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕

Fidds kisses every part of you that makes him smile.

“well, ain’t you the cutest lil’ thing!”

your cheeks. he just can’t help himself, he sees your face and boom! instant smooch. one cheek, then the other, peppering you with quick, excited little kisses

he giggles into kisses. always, always grinning. pecks to your cheek when he’s working, smooches to your temple when you bring him a snack, laughter between every single kiss because he can’t believe his luck.

“gotcha! hehehe, ya oughta see the look on yer face!”

your nose is next. he thinks it’s adorable. boop. peck. boop. peck

“who’s the cutest thing in the whole dang world? ohhhh, that’s right, it’s you!”

sometimes he’s so excited he forgets to aim and accidentally bumps his nose against yours, which only makes him laugh more

but the most special place, the sweetest is your eyelids.

he does it when you’re falling asleep, when you’re curling against him, feeling safe and warm. a press of lips to your closed eyes, so feather-light

“rest easy, darlin’. im right here.” and if he wakes up before you, if the morning sun is spilling golden across your skin, he does it again

because he loves you. because he just can’t help it

[masterwolftfs]

THE ATTIC CLEAR OUT: THE BEAR PELT

"Old unwanted bear pelt. Good condition. Contact for details." The ad had been sitting on his saved browser tabs for days before @thisdamnedwierdinternet finally caved and sent a message. He���d been planning a Viking cosplay for an upcoming convention—something rugged, primal, powerful - and the idea of draping himself in a real bear pelt instead of some cheap faux fur had his pulse quickening. The response came almost immediately: "Come by tonight and it’s yours." The address led him to a weathered cabin on the outskirts of town, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. An old man with a grizzled beard and knowing eyes handed him the pelt without a word. The moment his fingers brushed the thick, coarse fur, a shiver ran up his spine. It was warm, soft, and the golden-brown hide was heavy in his arms. "Wear it well," the owner had murmured, before shutting the door.

The whole drive home, he couldn't help but keep thinking about the pelt, finding himself so eager to try it on. It only made sense then, that upon getting back home, he immediately ran to his room, spreading the pelt over his bed and running his hands across it. The fur was dense, strands thick and soft yet slightly coarse, and irresistibly touchable. The sensation of the skin on his hands rubbing against it was incredible, and he could already picture and feel it draped on his shoulders, the ultimate finish to his Viking warrior look. As if mad with anticipation to wear it, he stripped down to his boxers, the cool temperature of his room cauisng goosebumps to ripple across his skin, before lifting the pelt and settling it over his shoulders. The weight was perfect, grounding even. It made him feel stronger, like some mantle of primal strength. He shifted, the pelt's warmth seeping into his skin, the sensation causing him to tingle and itch slightly. At first, the feeling was just a faint prickle between his shoulder blades, uncomfortable like static electricity. But it soon slowly spread, a creeping heat sinking into his muscles, an uncomfortable sensation not unlike pins and needles. He instinctively flexed, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. Had his shoulders... always been this broad? His reflection in the mirror against his wall caught his eye, making him freeze.

His frame was wider, or at least, the top half was. He looked bulky under the pelt, his chest clearly wider than before, looking almost comical compared to his still regularly sized lower half. His pecs were defined, a shelf jutting out above his gut. A gasp escaped him as the tingling wrapped around his sides into his core, causing his gut to solidify into a solid set of abs, defined and rock hard. "The fuck-" His voice was deeper, rougher. As he heard it, his head spun slightly, as if the sound of his own voice was doing something to his brain. Hadn't he always had a voice this deep? No, surely not, he'd remember it... right? But he did remember it, didn't he? His voice being deeper than everyone else's since high school, puberty hitting him early and causing that deep, gruff tone to be his main defining feature throughout his high school and college years. Well, that and his bulk of course.

The pelt almost pulsed against his skin, feeling like an extension of himself. It's furs seemed to wriggle into his pores, forcefully injecting him with testosterone, masculine energy, and... his hair was growing? A golden-brown carpet was spreading across his chest, looking almost seamless with the pelt against his bare flesh. It was thick, coarse, spreading in waves across his body, undulating outwards from where the pelt touched his skin. His arms darkened with the same dense pelt of fur, as they pulsed, and flexed, growing into two cannons of pure muscle. Heh, he thought. That's what you get for working out daily. Working out? He didn't go to the gym? Nah, he didn't. He lifted AXES and SWORDS and ARMOUR, like a REAL WARRIOR. The words echoed in his brain, in that same deep gruff voice he'd always had. Each one sent a shiver through him, the words cementing themself into reality, making sure they made themselves known to be fact.

His waist widened, his pelvis growing with raw power, his cock growing, pulsing, pleasure coursing through his body. It wracked his brain with even more waves of energy, thoughts, sensations, memories. His legs surged with power, becoming tree trunks of pure muscle. Perfect for carrying a true warriors weight, he thought. His feet surged, easily doubling in size to support the new pillars his legs has become. What was happening to him? He couldn't tell anymore. His jaw squared, stubble quickly growing out into an impressive manly beard (only REAL men have beards after all, he thought), and his face sharpening and growing more rugged and weathered. His hair itched, his hair thickening, worthy of a cheiftain like him. A cheiftain, he thought? But the title seemed right, as if his. He scowled, confused as contradicting memories and thoughts battled for control. Ultimately, the warrior would win, it was more worthy after all, especially with the pelt still injecting that addicting power straight into him, supercharging this new identity.

He gasped, his body thrumming with raw, endless power. He flexed, feeling his new strength, his stance instinctively shifting into something more dominant, predatory. His scent filled the air, earthy, musky, intoxicating. It smelt of home, of nights spent drinking horns of mead, hours of sparring with his men on the battlefield, of proving time and time again why he was the one in charge, the chief. His hand instinctively groped his cock, taking little stimulation to coax out a load, his cum splattering the mirror before him. It was a shame to waste his superior Viking seed on mere pleasure, but he deserved it after all, being the Chief was hard work. He flexed again, feeling the new personality completely devour the old, his new identity taking over forevermore. The pelt on his shoulders shifted, puppeting his movements, controlling him. It was him, and he was it. Forever.

[dee-writes-anime]

MORE DADZAWA😼 (please😭🙏). I'll literally take anything atp, I love ur writing sm. but can u do one where reader is super scared of thunder storms and she always goes to her dad for comfort during them, even if its something as small as sitting next to him or laying down with him. But like one day they get into an argument, and go their seperate ways and stuff, when it begins to rain. It quickly escalates, reader gets scared, and aizawa comforts them😼

Silent Poems

FEATURING Shouta Aizawa x Reader (PLATONIC)

SUMMARY it was one thing, one thing you asked for and he couldn't find the time to show.

CONTENT WARNINGS parental emotional neglect (unintentional), thunderstorm fear, argument, hurt/comfort, reader is trying their best, Shinso is my pookie (I had to sneak him in heh), I promise this is fluff...kinda

AUTHORS NOTE "MORE DADZAWA FLUFF" the crowd demands and I must deliver

You told him about the event a month in advance.

The flyer was still hanging on the fridge—folded once, taped crookedly, your name circled at the bottom in red ink. You made sure to do that part yourself. Just in case he forgot.

“Creative Arts Night,” it read in bold print. “Featuring student writing, music, and visual work.”

You were reading one of your poems. Just one. Two and a half minutes, tops. But you’d worked on it for weeks. Rewrote it three times. Practiced in front of the mirror, in your room, even in the bathroom when he wasn’t home. You’d never asked him to attend anything before. Not really. But this… this mattered.

So when the doors closed that evening, and the lights dimmed, you scanned the seats one last time.

He wasn’t there.

By the time you got home, it had started raining.

Your performance had gone fine—your voice didn’t crack, and people clapped politely. But none of it landed. Not when the one person you wanted in that room never walked in.

You stepped inside quietly, dropped your bag by the door, and peeled off your jacket. The apartment was warm. The living room light was on.

So was his voice.

“—no, not like that. You’re pushing too hard through the end of the phrase.”

You paused in the hallway.

Shinsou sat on the couch, shoulders hunched, brows furrowed in concentration. Aizawa stood a few feet away, arms folded, nodding slowly. They were in the middle of vocal modulation drills—something he’d been helping Shinsou with more and more lately.

Your stomach twisted.

“You made it home fast,” Aizawa said when he finally noticed you. His tone was calm. Normal. Like it was just another night.

“It’s over,” you said flatly.

“Oh.” He blinked. “I thought it started at eight.”

You stared at him.

“No. It started at six.”

He frowned, confused, like he was trying to rewind time in his head. “I must’ve mixed it up.”

“I reminded you this morning.”

He didn’t argue. Just sighed—tired, annoyed with himself.

You turned away. “Forget it.”

“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be done in a minute—”

“No, it’s fine.” You didn’t look at Shinsou on your way down the hall, but you saw the guilt on his face anyway.

It was a while before he came to your door.

By then, the storm had picked up, and the thunder had started.

You were on your bed, curled under your blanket, watching the walls light up in quick flashes. You hated this kind of storm—the rolling kind, where the thunder didn’t crack so much as crawl, slow and deep, like something alive.

You didn’t move when the door creaked open.

“Can I come in?” his voice asked—low, quiet, rough.

You didn’t answer.

He stepped inside anyway, sat down in the desk chair, hands clasped loosely between his knees.

“I screwed up,” he said simply.

You blinked at the wall.

“I didn’t forget on purpose. But that doesn’t change the fact that I did forget.”

Lightning flashed again. The thunder chased it.

You turned slowly. “It wasn’t just a poem.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. That was the first thing I ever shared in public. I was terrified. I asked you to come because I needed you there. Not because I wanted applause. Not because it was convenient. Because I wanted you to see me. And you weren’t there.”

His jaw tightened. But his voice stayed steady.

“I was with Shinsou,” he said. “I wasn’t tracking the time. And that’s on me.”

You sat up, pulling your blanket tighter.

“You're always with him.”

He blinked. “I spend time with him because he doesn’t have anyone else.”

You laughed once, bitter. “Cool. So I guess having a dad just means I don’t get one who shows up.”

That one hit him.

He didn’t speak for a long moment. Then—

“You’re not wrong to be angry,” he said quietly. “I don’t always divide my time the way I should. I thought—maybe because you’re so independent—you didn’t need that from me as much anymore.”

Your voice shook. “I did. I still do.”

Another rumble of thunder.

“I hate this storm,” you muttered. “It’s too loud. I can’t think.”

He stood slowly and crossed the room. “You want me to stay?”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

He sat beside you on the bed, letting you lean into his side without saying anything else. Just wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled the blanket tighter around both of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter this time. “You deserved better.”

You didn’t say anything. But your fingers clutched his hoodie tighter.

“You’re not invisible to me,” he added. “Even if I’ve been acting like it.”

The thunder rolled again. But your chest didn’t tighten the way it had before.

“I wish you’d said that earlier,” you whispered.

“I know. I’ll say it more often.”

BONUS FLUFF

The storm had passed by morning.

The sky was pale gray and still heavy, but the thunder had gone. The rain now was gentle—almost shy—tapping softly against the apartment windows like it was apologizing for the damage it left behind.

You woke slowly, the kind of slow that came after crying. Your eyes were heavy, face puffy, but your breathing was calm. The blanket you had curled under had been adjusted at some point. Tucked around your shoulders. Warm.

The bed beside you was empty.

You found him in the kitchen.

Hair tied back. Hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. Mug in one hand, phone in the other. He glanced over when he heard your steps and gave a subtle nod.

“Morning.”

His voice was raspier than usual. Probably hadn’t slept much either.

You moved to the counter silently, your fingers dragging across the edge of it as you sat.

He placed a cup down in front of you. Not coffee. Tea. The kind he made you when you were younger. Honey and chamomile. Not too hot.

You stared at it.

“…You remembered?”

He gave a slow shrug. “You’re not the only one with a memory.”

You picked it up, hands warming against the ceramic.

“I didn’t mean everything I said last night,” you murmured. “Not everything.”

“I know.” He sat across from you, coffee in hand. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t have a right to say it.”

The quiet between you wasn’t heavy this time. It was calm. A space for breath.

“I shouldn’t have put so much on your shoulders,” he said after a pause. “You’ve been raising yourself more than I realized. I let myself believe that was okay just because you didn’t complain.”

You looked up.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted. “Balancing all of it. But you… you're the only person I can’t afford to forget.”

Your eyes stung again—but this time it didn’t hurt.

He reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled something out—folded paper, worn and creased. He laid it on the table between you.

Your flyer.

“I messed up yesterday. I won’t pretend I didn’t. But I’d still like to read your poem. If you’ll let me.”

You blinked. “You want to read it now?”

He nodded. “Only if you’re okay with that.”

You hesitated. Then slowly—nervously—you slid the crumpled page from your pocket. The original printout. Creased from where you’d held it backstage with trembling hands.

You handed it to him.

Aizawa took it carefully, unfolding it with the kind of quiet care most people wouldn’t think him capable of. His eyes scanned the page. He didn’t rush. Didn’t skim. Just sat with it.

When he finished, he didn’t offer platitudes or dramatic praise. He just said:

“It’s good. And it’s honest. That takes guts.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “I wrote it about… feeling like I had to be quiet so I wouldn’t be a burden.”

He met your gaze evenly.

“You never have to do that here.”

He didn’t reach for you, but he didn’t have to. The warmth was there. Solid and grounding.

You took a slow sip of your tea.

A small beat passed.

“…You’re making breakfast, right?” you said, trying not to smile.

He exhaled through his nose. “You think I’m cooking?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You woke me up with tea. Don’t ruin the streak.”

He shook his head, but you saw it—the corner of his mouth twitching. The quiet amusement. The way his eyes softened a little when they landed on you.

“I’ll make eggs,” he said. “But you’re doing the dishes.”

“Deal.”

[thetxtdevil]

okay for the 1k bash, how about some thoughts on txt's fav positions?

1000 Followers Bash - Positions

nsfw/mdni, fem.reader

Yeonjun - Doggy Style/Reverse Cowgirl

I think this is known throughout moablr that YJ is infatuated with ass. So any position that gives him the greatest overview of your plush cheeks, yuh. Grab it, lick it, slap it, love it. Ramming into you, jerking your whole body as he watches you back arch. Grabs your hair bending you in impossible ways. And please provide a mirror, because he also wants to see your fucked out face :)

Soobin - Cowgirl

Another well known fact of moablr is Soobin's obsession with boobs. Yes, in missionary he can thrust into you to the speed he wants your tits to bounce, but he likes when you're in control. Moaning out seeing you on top of him, bouncing yourself full. Studying every part of you, your exposed neck, bouncing breasts, flexed belly, the connection of your cunt on his dick. He's in love. So much so that he lifts his back off the latching his mouth onto your perk nipple, squeezing your other tit.

Beomgyu - Pronebone

Ever since I saw that one picture, you know, when he's on the bed, hips against the cushion, elbows holding him up, I thought of him in pronebone. He's such a cuddler and a sleepy boy that this position is perfect for that. beomgyu is a humper too Beomgyu pushes you down, you feel his hard-on pressing against your ass. His head in your neck, chest pressed closely to your back, you feel his hips rubbing against you. It doesn't take long to get your clothes off, dick sliding between your ass cheeks, slipping into your cunt.

Taehyun - Missionary/Wall

A traditional position for a traditional man. DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF MISSIONARY! Tyun loves this position just because it gives him the opportunity to manhandle you. That's why I included wall sex, bedroom/shower/kitchen wherever he can hold you up and fuck you good. THERE'S PROOF him wrestling the boys And you guys always playfully wrestle. He takes you down, your back rolling down on the comforter, you knew that Tae will spread your legs and then his hands will wrap around your wrists holding them in place. You could fight back, but why would you? Not when you see the dark glare in his eyes, chest heaving because he had you in your place.

Huening Kai - 69/Cuddle

The more and more Kai is growing into the man that he is, I think moablr and I are understanding that he likes eating pussy. Kai will eat you out all day and night, such a sweet angel forgets his own needs. So trying out 69 HE LOVES IT. Kai is obsessed with you, so he really really enjoys your mouth. win-win Cuddle fuck with Kai is a classic. Do I need to say more? You're spooning him, rubbing his tummy, and he's like you know what I'm horny. He turns and tells you that it's his turn you rub you heh. Whatever is on the TV screen is not interesting anymore. Not when Kai's big dick is filling you up, big hands tracing every curve of your body, and his sweet lips whispering the nastiest shit to you.

I can not BELIEVE that I've never discussed this before! Thank you @izzyy-stuff

Grateful for my 1000 Demons,

TxT's Devil

[cosmowgyral]

Book of Memories: Silvio and Azel

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated but do not repost. Hope you enjoy!

video credits: @.mapleibara ♡

⊱ Chapter 3

Azel: …Were you trying to help me?

The god exaggeratedly widened his eyes, earning a disrespectful click of the tongue.

Silvio: No. Don’t flatter yourself.

Silvio: Besides, how long were ya plannin' to leave your guest waitin'? I’m not done with you yet.

Silvio: Setting aside the King and your official duties, surely I outrank that old man’s pointless chatter.

Azel: You’re absolutely right. How careless of me...

Azel: I must show my sincerity to you, Prince Silvio.

After leaving the castle, the god headed to an oasis just outside the city.

Water sprang from the dry earth, clear and pure, reflecting the massive moon on its surface.

With practiced ease, the god laid out a mat near the water and poured wine into a goblet he had brought.

It was the same star-speckled drink he had offered that morning.

Silvio: I didn’t ask you to go this far...

Azel: It’s all for the tip.

Silvio: At least try to hide it.

Still exasperated, the guest lowered himself onto the mat and took a sip from the goblet handed to him.

Silvio: So this is your idea of sincerity? Wine at night?

Azel: Yes. Drinking under the desert moon… It’s a rare experience, something you’d never find in Benitoite.

Silvio: No doubt 'bout that. But I’m guessin' there’s another reason too, huh?

Azel: As expected of you, Prince Silvio.

Azel: Out here, we can talk about things we can’t within the castle walls.

Azel: And it seems you have a few things you’d like to say to me.

Silvio: Heh. So you do get it.

The god, bathed in moonlight, smiled and sat a little distance away, one knee raised.

Silvio: You're not drinking? Or is it that ya can’t drink?

Azel: Which do you think it is?

Silvio: ...You can’t afford to get drunk, right?

Silvio: In times of crisis, people cling to the gods. If the god ain't there, they can’t make a single decision. So ya can’t allow yourself to get drunk.

Azel: No, it’s simply because I don’t want to make a fool of myself.

Silvio: So I was wrong, huh?

Azel: Not entirely.

Silvio: Thought so.

Silvio: Been watchin' ya work all day.

Azel: Then I suppose I’ll have to charge you an observation fee.

Silvio: I’ll pay as much as ya want… But—are you okay?

Azel: .....

Azel: ...So you noticed after all.

There was a bitterness mixed into the god’s smile.

Silvio: If you’d collapsed, I was plannin' to jump in and help, just to put ya in my debt.

Azel: Unfortunately, I just have a slight aversion to blood.

Silvio: That was way beyond ‘slight.’

Silvio: You got any idea how pale ya looked after treating the King?

Azel: No, I didn’t check the mirror. Was it that bad?

Silvio: Yeah. Anyone could’ve seen it.

Silvio: ...And yet, everyone around ya pretended not to notice.

Silvio: Those faithful worshippers who claim to revere their god—the hell were they looking at?

He made no effort to hide his irritation as he roughly set the goblet down on the mat.

A bit of the wine splashed, dampening his fingertips. Azel took in the scene silently.

Azel: What they’re looking at… is me.

Silvio: No, they’re not.

Azel: They are watching.

The god raised his hand and pointed toward a patch of greenery.

There, in the midst of the desert, a rare wildflower was blooming.

Azel: Prince Silvio, that is a rose.

Silvio: Huh? What kinda nonsense ya talking about?

Azel: Exactly. You know what a real rose looks like. That’s why you can immediately tell that isn't one.

Azel: But there are no roses in the desert.

Azel: If someone who doesn’t know roses is told that’s a rose, then in that moment—that wildflower becomes a rose.

Silvio: ......

Azel: I am a god.

Azel: I am not human. I’m a god.

Silvio: So what, just because you’re not human, no one notices when you’re struggling?

Azel: That's right. They don’t accept that a god could be weak, or that I might be uncomfortable with the sight of blood.

Azel: It’s partially my fault for hiding it, but… isn’t the idea of a flawless god having a weakness a contradiction in itself?

The guest made no attempt to hide his displeasure. In the stillness of the desert, he clicked his tongue in frustration.

Silvio: ...I’ll be blunt. That’s seriously messed up.

Azel: To outsiders, the way our nation functions must look incredibly twisted.

Azel: If only everyone could live with the same strength of will as you, Prince Silvio...

The god’s eyes gazed into the distance, void of emotion.

It was the face of someone who had swallowed every injustice, every absurdity—everything.

Silvio: Hey... your brother was exiled from the country back then, wasn’t he?

Azel: Yes. He was banished by the High Priest for the sin of deceiving a god.

Azel: If you hadn’t secretly brought him back that day, Prince Silvio...

Azel: He likely would have never been able to return to his homeland again.

Silvio: No. That’s not it. You’re a god.

Silvio: If ya really wanted to, you could’ve found him and brought him back yourself, couldn’t you?

Silvio: But you didn’t.

Silvio: Wasn’t it because... you thought he’d live a happier life away from Tanzanite?"

The god’s mysterious eyes lowered, a shadow falling across them.

Azel: Who’s to say?

Silvio: ...That bastard wanted to come back no matter what it took.

Silvio: Do you know why?

[Chapter 2] [Masterlist] [Chapter 4]

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being in a secret relationship with the one and only Gojo Satoru.

Imagine sitting in a bar, colored light pointed everywhere as you silently stare at your surroundings. Casually taking a sip of your drink as you lean back on your seat, head bobbing up and down along the music. How boring.

"He's been staring at you ever since we came here." "Who?" You raise a brow but did not spare your friend a glance and proceeds to take another sip of your drink. It was sweet, alcoholic but sweet. "Gojo Satoru from business department, you know. That guy with white hair, blue eyes-" "And the one who always wears tinted glasses, right. Who wears that indoors and not to mention at midnight." You chuckle, setting your empty cup down before standing up. "Gotta go to the bathroom."

Imagine looking at the mirror, your own reflect staring at you as you turn your face to the side to take a good look at your features. Unlike the other day there your hood and glasses would hide away your face, it was one of those days where you feel like stepping out of your shell and have fun. Well, more like to pissed off your boyfriend that was surely waiting for you out of the door. Making sure you're presentable as you arrived, you take one last glance in the mirror before walking your way out in the bathroom.

"Hey there." There was your boyfriend in his fitted white shirt that was hugging his body so well his well toned body could be seen. "Why hello to you too, Gojo." You smile at him before walking past him, if only he didn't block you on your way back into your friend's table. "No baby, you ain't going anywhere." He said as he grab a hold of your wrist pulling you at the back as you just stare at him in amusement, looking around for a moment only to find his best friend, Suguru shaking his head at the scene of you two before looking away like it was none of his business.

"So?" You cross your arms, looking directly at his eyes underneath those tinded glasses he was wearing. Something you will never understand at the same time you do kind of appreciate it. Because you know as soon as he remove that, people would be all over him, going crazy at his baby blue eyes. "What please do I owe you?" "You told me you're going out for some fun, what are you doing here?" "Pfffff" "Why are you laughing?" "I think it's funny how much a lo- heh, how someone like you could meddle in my life like this."

Imagine the way he flinch under your watch, his jaw tense as his hand curl into a fist. "What?" You laugh, one hand reaching out to touch and trace his jaw. "Are you mad, Satoru?" You chuckle before your hand travel on the back of his head and tugging him down harshly so he was on the same level as you. At the same time, his other hand lean on the wall for support, his glasses on the tip of his nose on the verge of fallling. This time, he was glaring at you like crazy. "Remember this is your arrangement not mine and just like how you don't want me to meddle with yours, I advice you not to meddle with mine to or who knows what could possibly happen." You push him away, about to walk of but he just won't move.

Imagine it's not like you wanted this to happened. He was the one who wanted to keep your relationship a secret, the one who said you cannot meddle with each out in public. And to be honest it's not that you didn't see where he was coming from, you were just this normal person, one among the crowd in the campus. Living differently from him who lived so well off along side his buddies. He was the heir into the Gojo industries. And you, you're just you, someone who have nothing to lose, nothing to offer.

"Move." You repeat when he doesn't move, trapping you between him and the wall. "Satoru move, others are starting to look." You whispered, gripping on his close before taking a deep breathe and relax. You tap him twice in the chest, refusing an eye contact as you gently push him away. Going in this bar was definitely a bad idea. You shouldn't have come out of pettiness. "Satoru, your fiancée is about to get over here, move." As soon as he said that, you felt him when stiff before immediately pulling away from you. "Well talk later." "You're coming home with her, we have nothing to talk about." "(First name)-" "Come to think about it. It's about time." "What do you-" "I'm done being your secret, goodbye Satoru." "... wait-" "Satoru!"

Imagine without thinking too much about it, you walk back in your booth like nothing happened and immediately drown yourself with more drinks. It's not like you don't understand where he was coming from. You knew that he loves you. You knew that damn well that he was hurting too. But while he got the whole world around his palm, you only have him. You only have him yet you cannot even call him mine. You're tired. You love him but you're tired.

Imagine if you knew that loving him would hurt like this. You would have turn the other way around the first time you saw him. Loving him was a losing game. "Hey, thats enough."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

[littlemissclandestine]

Soft!Adler Headcanons: (Girl)Dad! Edition Part 2

⭐ A continuation of this post

He'd try his best to be there for any award ceremonies at school, sneaking in at the back just in time to see his daughter on stage. As soon as she makes eye contact, he'll give her a thumbs up and a wink, mouthing 'I love you'

I wanna say he'd be that dad who stands up and claps loudly, telling everyone that that's his daughter on stage. He's so supportive bless.

Oh and photos where he stands behind her and has his hands on her shoulders and smiles for the camera. Yup, quite a few of those stashed away.

When she'd have a presentation to give on her biggest inspiration and/or hero in her life, it would be about her dad. It would end up in tears for her as he'd be away...or would he? Adler would come in, standing off to the side, watching her recite from a piece of paper saying how much she looks up to her father, how she misses him etc. It almost brings a tear to his own eyes. Everyone's heads would turn and his daughter would run up to him, Russell scooping her up and hugging her. Missed you my lil spaghetti

During downtime, his priority would always be his daughter. No ifs and no buts. Even if he hated the idea she proposed.

One of those was testing makeup. Russell would always straight up say no, asking her to call her mother for that but when he saw how upset it made her, he'd sigh and grumpily sit down in a chair by her dresser and let her do whatever she wanted. -> "Jesus, kid, watch it, you always this rough with your friends too?" He'd ask with a chuckle as she blends the foundation. He could sit there all day and listen to her explain how to use each product and proceed to yap about whatever crosses her mind

When she'd put on eyeliner and apply it to his waterline, he was genuinely scared -> "Don't poke my eyes out, the only thing I got going for me. God, can't believe I'm letting you do this, missy." He'd pinch her side and tickle her.

As soon as he's allowed to look in the mirror, he does a double take, wondering how the hell he looks like such a diva but he downplays it. -> "Good job, kid...good job indeed."

When she hurts herself, he can't help but kneel down and help her. He knows he should stop and that she needs to develop her independence but it's hard for him. -> "Got a boo boo, sweetheart? Let me see. Aww on the knee, huh? Come here, let's get you cleaned up and get a plaster on it, yeah? Shhhh you're okay."

Baking with his daughter? YES. They'd make a mess of the kitchen for sure, not really tidying up as they go. Every time his daughter would come to him with a new recipe, he's out the front door with her in an instant, ticking off their checklist of ingredients in the store and thinking of ways he could add their twist on it

Her drawings would be on display with personalised fridge magnets that spell her name etc

There's a wall or archway where he measures her height every year and marks it on with pencil. -> "Heh, you've had a hell of a growth spurt, sweetheart. Would you look at that."

If his daughter was a trouble maker, he'd be that parent that would refuse to see what was wrong. It was self defense as far as he's concerned. He doesn't really need to do much of the talking. He's genuinely surprised seeing her stand up for herself, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile as he watches her rant to the principal. Did he teach her that? To not play by the rules? Guess he's rubbing off on her. A little worrying but eh -> "Put that in your pipe and smoke it." High fives as soon as they get back into the car after the meeting with the principal is over is a given.

If there's something you should know about Russell Adler, it's that he loves being spontaneous. One day, he might take his daughter out fishing, teaching her the ropes, the next they're at a painting class together, his daughter being impressed by his hidden talent or cycling in the summer during the sunset, Russell asking her what her goals are in life and telling her how proud he is of her and that he wishes he could be around more. Bonding time is so important to him.

There are certainly times where he struggles. Apart from the emotional side of things and his job getting in the way i mean. Possibly control. Like we know he has strong leadership skills he's developed over his career. I'd like to think that seeps into his parenting a little too much. He tends to ramble and tell his daughter how to do something and talking her through it, hovering over her even though she knows already and has been doing said thing for years.

Maybe it's just a part of him wanting to feel useful and needed. Still wanting her to rely on him even in her 20s or 30s, partly in denial that she's not that young girl who'd sit on his lap anymore. It really hits him when he's walking her down the aisle.

And maybe he'd be over-critical of himself as a parent and her as a daughter, especially since he sees the cost of mistakes in the world of espionage and the military

The only people that have seen his daughter from work are Sims, Woods and Mason and maybe Park but it isn't a regular thing, wanting to keep her as far away from the CIA as possible. Park had a shock when she saw him like that for the first time. -> "Never thought i'd see the day, Adler. You, a family man? Rather ghastly I must say but you do look happy."

[isattt]

Part 1 - Warning: Suicide mention.

Tags: Haunted house, anypov (?), yandere level: low. Theme: romance, spooky? (Not that much) Words: 1500 (~7 minutes)

next >>

You stared at your phone, looking incredulously at the screen. The apartment was dirt cheap and thirty minutes from the university you attended. This really can’t be real... there had to be a catch, you knew that meant for sure there was something wrong with it, but as you eyed the price again, you just couldn’t bring yourself to let this opportunity pass, not after looking for so long.

When you first visited, the place appeared abandoned, with cobwebs and covered in a thin layer of dust. The landlord, a formal-looking man, reassured you that all appliances, despite the old appearance, were working perfectly.

“And well, if you need anything fixed, I will do it for you in a heartbeat, alright?” The man says, with a wide charming smile on his face, “Don’t be shy to come to me.” He says, patting away the dust from the top of the microwave.

You eyed the place, your eyes landing back to his. “If you don’t mind me asking... Why is it so cheap?” You ask, noticing the dust covered hoops with half made embroideries of delicate flowers, maybe someone old who passed away...? you think to yourself.

“Heh...” He says, with a humorlessly chuckle to himself, his smile quickly faltering “Well... a guy… he… you know...” He says with a slight tremble to his voice, rubbing his arm nervously “Sorry... It’s hard even thinking about it... I wish I could have done more...”

Your eyes widened slightly, quickly acknowledging what he was trying to say. You looked at him with a sympathetic gaze, taking his words in “Oh, I’m so sorry I… I didn’t realize.“  

“It’s alright, pal.” He says reassuringly, putting on a braver front. “I’m actually more worried about you now, you know? You alright with that?” He walks closer, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. “Things like these make folks uncomfortable. I myself wouldn’t be able to do it.“

You stare at him, before looking away “Well... it’s pretty disturbing, obviously...-”, you say with a sigh “-but I really need it so...”

“I get you, I do,” He nods. “Hopefully, I can make you feel at home. Call my number if you need something, anything, alright? I really am not kidding,” He furrowed his brows, looking at the piles of hoops with a pensive look “So-” He suddenly clasps his hands together putting on a weaker smile than before “-when you move in it will be all cleaned up, I got you”

You mirrored his small smile with one of your own. “Thanks, Will.”

It’s been one week since you have moved in and you have settled in nicely. William did a good job cleaning everything. When you came back, it was almost like you stepped into a completely different place. Even the air of the place was new and lighter, even if still slightly cold.

Ever since then, nothing unusual has happened. You spend your days the same as any other day, just now in a smaller home than before.

Well, almost nothing unusual. The house was always chilly, making weird noises from time to time, and you often had nightmares about a tall man just standing at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. But you would not let your paranoia drive you away from the best apartment you’ve found after almost a month of searching. Ghosts, demons, and such didn’t exist, after all. When the semester starts, it will be all worth it, you repeat to yourself, trying to find some solace in this situation.

Once you got home that evening after going out to buy your groceries, you noticed an odd recent addition to your wall, just by the entrance, a CO2 meter. Did William install it while you were gone? It was odd though, you never thought he would be the type of landlord to just enter your place uninvited. It was unlike him to invade your privacy.

You decide to take out your phone. Looking at the contacts, you send a quick message to him, trying to understand his intentions. Could it be something that was scheduled that I didn’t know about?  You thought to yourself as you typed your message, “Hey will, what’s up with the CO2 meter?” You hit send, putting your phone aside for a moment on the counter to unload your groceries.

“CO2 meter?” the screen lights up with his reply. You quickly pick your phone back up to reply, “The one you installed?” you furrow your brows, staring at his text with a confused look. Did he forget?  You keep staring at your screen, anxiously waiting for a reply... 

“I didn’t install a CO2 meter.”

“Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over??”

You suddenly feel the familiar cold from the apartment enveloping your body, making you shiver slightly. What could this even mean for you? Would someone really break inside your place only to put something like this and nothing else...? You for sure needed to take that thing down at least It might be a hidden camera or something.

“I don’t know, to be honest.” You reply to him.

“I looked at the cameras in the hallway for you, but I found nothing, pal.” He said, fixing his glasses on his nose with one hand.

William was sitting at your table, sipping on the cup of tea you had given him. He arrived not much later after your text, coming immediately to check on you. “It’s too damn bad I can’t be more helpful here. Even the cameras on the outside found nothing unusual.” He says, taking another sip of his tea.

You were leaning against the wall, staring at him while holding your own cup of tea, the warmth of the liquid providing you a sliver of comfort in this situation. “It’s okay... this is already better news than I expected,” you say as you shift your weight onto your other leg. “Maybe it was always there and, ugh, I don’t know, maybe I didn’t notice it before.” 

“Well... hah...” He brought the cup to his lips, hesitating before taking a drink of the hot liquid. “I noticed something though...” He continues, “It’s nothing horrible, I mean… It’s just... well, you can see for yourself” He lowered his cup to the table, bringing his phone out of his pocket.

You sit down in the chair by his side, dragging the chair closer to him. When your shoulders touch, William flinches slightly, but keeps the phone in place. You look between his eyes and the screen with a curious look.

The screen of his phone showed you the camera feed of your hallway. The timestamp showed it was around noon, a few hours before you found the CO2 meter on your wall. It was empty, no one coming or going. 

“Around here,” William said, forwarding the video. Nothing changed, still the same empty hallway. Before you could ask him what he had seen, the feed showed your door opening. No one came out, of course. You weren’t at home.

Then… the door closed by itself, the same way it had opened.

“What...” you muttered, staring at the screen with wide eyes. “But I locked the door...”

“I imagined you did.” He looks at you, an uncertain look on his face. “What do you think of setting cameras inside here? I could lend you one of mine.”

“Maybe...” you say, still shaken by what you had seen. You feel the chilly atmosphere of the house again, creeping up your spine. “I wasn’t so much worried about the meter anymore, but this is something else.”

He leans back against his chair, creating some distance between you two as he puts his phone away. “Look, I’m not trying to imply anything, but these sorts of things have been happening all the time. Folks come here, these things happen... they leave.”

He grabs the cup once again, running his finger over the rim of the cup. “I am not one to believe in ghosts, but…”

“If these things exist, at least the fella who is haunting you is the least dangerous ghost you could have, hm?” He says with a small smile, a wistful look on his face.

You raise an eyebrow at his statement, while he could be right, it’s hard to believe, given your circumstances “Well, he is still creeping me out, even if that’s the case...” You say harshly, suddenly feeling the cold air of the room leaving.

He nods understandingly “Mhm, I can understand,” he pauses, emptying his cup of now lukewarm tea and standing up to put the cup on the sink “I don’t know why, but it’s been a lot more active with you than with everyone else... when you sat close to me just now, I felt like someone was staring daggers at me! Hahaha!”

He finishes washing his own cup, walking to stand in front of you. “If you see him, tell him I miss his nerdy ass!” he says, grinning widely. “Let’s just install those cameras so you can sleep easy at night, alright?”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

just woke up and my dumbass read your tags as "Brothers Karamazov" and went "heh. Nice book" haha BUT. Makarov? I'm interested 👁️👁️

Nik had bypassed the security and snuck in through one of the bedroom windows. There was no one waiting for him in a van outside. No Watcher, no Bravo Six. This was something he had to do alone. Something he should have done many, many years ago.

It had been too simple, which meant Makarov knew he was coming. Wanted him to come. But Nik had no choice. John had lost a man; his heir, his protegé. He would stop at nothing now, risking even his own life in pursuit of revenge.

Makarov didn't look up as Nik opened the door to the study. He didn't even flinch, the white of his arm sling stark against his black military fatigues. He must have broken it in his escape.

"You are getting sloppy in your old age," Makarov murmured. Nik clocked the sidearm on the table near his hand, and the AK propped up against the nearby wall.

"I know your traps."

"And yet you walk into it willingly. That can only mean you are here on behalf of your favourite whore."

Nik swallowed down the flare of rage that burned behind his eyes, fingers twitching at his sides. "Your obsession with him ends tonight."

"Obsession? Hardly. But it was always... entertaining, seeing how far a man like Price could be pushed before he broke." Makarov ran gloved fingers over the paperwork on the desk before him; maps, stolen intel. Impossible to tell. "And yet, he never did. You have to admire that. It's why he’s still alive... for now."

"You still see him as the biggest thorn in your side. Why? What makes him so special to you? You have killed so many... What is one more?"

Makarov looked to the side sharply, bringing Nik into his periphery for the first time. "It’s not about killing him. It’s about breaking him. Price is a symbol—of everything I despise. The British... the Americans... they think they can control the world with their petty morals and weak ideals." Makarov chuckled; a low, humourless sound in the back of his throat. "Price represents that. He stands against everything I want to achieve. And I won’t rest until I’ve shattered him, piece by piece."

Nik clenched his teeth, fingers flexing against his palms. "You are delusional. Price is no different than you or me. He does what he thinks is right. But in the end, he is just another soldier."

"No. Price has always been more than that. He’s a man who refuses to accept his fate. He clings to his honour like a fool, and that is what makes him dangerous." Makarov turned, leaning against the desk, his broken arm adjusting against his chest. "And that is why I will break him. Because when he falls, everyone will know the truth. That no one is beyond my reach."

Nik stared at the face he had not seen in person for so many years. Always passing each other at a distance, never crossing. It was like looking through a portal into a mirror universe; Makarov was what he could have been. "Price might be a symbol, but so are you. You just do not see it yet."

Makarov's face warped into a snarl. "I am no symbol. I am the storm that will sweep everything away. And when the dust settles, only my vision will remain. Price... and his ideals, will be nothing but ashes."

"We will see about that."

Makarov tilted his head back and sighed at the ceiling. He moved slowly, lifting the sheathed machete from the table and throwing it to the floor between them. Nik knew what he wanted. How he intended this to end, and the painful memories made his chest ache.

Makarov's nose twisted into a sneer when he saw the pain flash over Nik's face. Even after all this time, Makarov could still read him. He knew how much healing Nik had done in the decades since they had fought in the snow, two shirtless boys, one all skinny, pale limbs and the other grown enough into his manhood to always gain the upper hand. To always be the one to inflict just enough harm to stave off worse.

As they threw punches, executed throws and latched each other in chokeholds, numb fingers scrambling through the ice for the blade, their father had watched with watery eyes, rinsing away his grief with vodka.

Makarov, whose heart had hardened, not healed, showed his teeth in a sharp parody of a smile. "Just like old times, big brother."

[mist-see]

Pain.

Part 7

⚠️dead beat mother mentioned, interacting with the cullens.⚠️

WC: 3328

<<<6

>>>8

"Hey!"

"Yo." You greeted Embry with a soft smile as the both of you walked up to each other. You raised your truck keys and jingled them in front of you. "Ready?" You grinned while he replied with a smile and nod.

It had been about an hour since Jacob left out, an hour with your thoughts, homework, and the low voices of the box TV in the background saving you from going insane.

When you got the text that Embry was on his way from work you were quick to stand up and rush into your room to get ready. You settled on black tights and a white crop top. Something flexible, just in case.

You even brushed your teeth again while spraying some leave-in conditioner on your hair. This was you attempting to make yourself look... presentable? It's been so long since you had to do so.

The last time you did so was graduation and the first week of college.

Suddenly your phone rang, forcing you to pull your eyes away from the dark circles underneath them, to the flip phone on the countertop.

With a nervous breath, you picked it up without looking at the caller I'd, thinking it was Embry calling to say he was outside.

"Hey. You here?"

"Yeah... I am."

Your breath hitched, feeling like you just got the wind knocked from you. You hesitated to say anything, pulling your phone away from your ear to look down at the small text on top of the screen. You had to confirm.

Susan.

"I'm sorry-were you expecting someone else?..." you hear the timid voice through the phone.

What.

Gulping, you cleared your throat before putting your phone back to your ear. "Sus-Mom... you're... you're back in town?" You ignored the question completely as you stepped back, leaning onto the bathroom wall for some type of support. You didn't need this, you really didn't need this, not now. Maybe in another 3 years but not now.

The woman on the other line heard the slip-up, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't hurt her, how she'd been demoted to just Susan in your head. She hadn't been much of a mother to you, she can understand that.

"Awe baby... you sound so grown up." She also avoided the question. You couldn't do this. Pulling the phone from your face you placed your hand over your mouth, shock still running through your veins, you didn't need this.

You weren't gonna cry. No fuck that you couldn't cry for her. Don't waste a tear on her. Don't do it.

Clenching your jaw you took in a deep breath. "Yeah um... some shit happened." Like puberty... three times over.

You could hear paper shifting as she struggled to continue the conversation. This would always happen.

Susan is a..." recovering" alcoholic. She would come... then she would go as soon as we thought she was well. Three years had been her longest. Before that was a year when she went to rehab... this time she just...vanished.

"Your father wrote me. Um- I'm sorry I wasn't there when... you know." You physically pulled the phone away from your ear while mouthing a loud( although quiet) fuck! And looked at yourself in the mirror with a look of disbelief. What the fuck! You mouthed to yourself again.

You had nothing but pure trauma and anger for this lady. All your life she was in and out of it, barging in on the little red house to bother Sarah and your siblings to ask for money, not sparing you a glance unless she needed you for a sob story on the streets of Forks. The bad memories outweighed the good by a long shot.

So why the fuck is your father continuing to keep in touch with her? And how long?

"Of course, you would know about that... everyone seems to know everything except for me. Heh." You didn't bother looking at yourself in the mirror again. That reflection of your mother staring back at you is something you didn't need at that moment.

"Baby, I'm sorry."

"Don't call me that. Seriously." You replied drily.

"...I'm sorry..." chewing the inside of your cheek, you closed your eyes so tight you could see another color. Don't cry. Don't fucking cry. Bitch if you cry I'll jump off the cliff with cinderblocks on my ankles.

Don't accept her apology.

"Why are you calling me." It wasn't a question she had a choice to answer. She needed to answer.

"I'm at a motel just outside of Forks... the one that your dad used to drop you off at to visit me." Those were the rare good memories.

Looking down at your sneakers you pushed down on the old wooden tile that needed to be nailed down. "The one with the pool?..." "heh-um yeah. Well- it's a parking lot now... they seemed to upgrade a bit... they made the place bigger." She was happy you remembered those visits. But that also meant you remembered what usually happened at the end of them. When your dad and her would argue about custody and money.

"I'm going to be here for a while... I'm job searching you know? Trying to build my life again after getting fired from the hospital..."

You had almost forgotten she was a doctor. 10 years of hard studying to waste the license on cheap vodka.

Please don't tell me you want me to visit.

"You don't owe me anything __, but, I'd like to see you, to apologize face to face. Just don't give up on me okay?"

"Yeah, sure.."

"I love you... okay? Bye-bye."

I love you too.

"Bye."

You hung up.

It felt weird looking in the mirror just now. You hated you looked like her. I need to get it together, you sighed, rubbing your eyes to get the tiredness away. By no means were you...better. You still had dark circles from the late-night cries, and you swore you could see a forehead crease from the number of times you had pushed your brows together in frustration.

You were only 19. Why'd you feel 35 with two oopsie babies? Gently slapping your face, trying to hype yourself to have a good time. You slipped your flip phone into your jacket pocket just in time for a knock on the door.

"It's crazy how much you've grown in just a year... you're kinda funny." You said sarcastically, tanned hands running through the rocky sand, both you and Embry sitting crisscrossed on worn towels. The two of you have been there for barely 20 minutes, making small talk and learning about his job at the local grocery store.

"Kinda??" He scrunches his brows together with a stupid grin that you copied. "And... I can say the same about you. About you changing a lot, you're not funny at all." "Ha!"You laughed? And not a fake one, a genuine one

You knew you should've fought it, the need to get closer to him in a way that's not fully human. But you couldn't help but think this was a good thing, to... free yourself from Edward's shackles. To enjoy your last year as a teen. But in a way, you felt like you were using him.

"How are you uh- how are you doing?" Whew. That question damn near knocked the wind out of you. Should you be honest, lie, half n half? As you stared at the soft waves Embry stared at the side of your face with narrowed brows. This new bond was strange between the both of you.

He could... almost feel everything you felt. It was like when the boys shifted, everyone could feel their emotions, hear what each other was saying- see it also.

Except he couldn't hear or see what you were thinking, not now at least. But he sure as hell could feel it, it was faint, but it was there. Grief, you were mourning your relationship so that you could move on.

"Um- you don't have to answer that if you-"

"I'm... healing. As much as I can. As much as Ephraim Black will allow me to." You didn't mention your mother calling, or Jacob sneaking off, you just wanted peace, you wanted happiness for yourself. In a way, Embry felt sad that you thought this was a curse cast upon you from your ancestors. Like the universe picked you specifically to fuck with.

But he also felt guilty. Guilty that he took his chance to finally get to know you. The you that wasn't always around Edward, the you that wasn't always in your room locked away with headphones in. He missed his friend. He felt guilty because while you suffered, he found himself grateful for this opportunity to even be near you.

Ears peaking up you could hear the faint sound of a wolf howling, the hairs on your neck standing, and goosebumps traveling up your arms. Both you and Embry's heads snap over to the peaking mountains of forks. "Jacob?..."

—

It had been a day now. A day since you, your brother, Seth, and shockingly Leah left Sam's pack to protect a sick and very pregnant Bella swan. A day since you've been an alpha to your small pack.

You still haven't talked to the Cullens yet.

You were debating if you needed to, Jacob did most of the talking anyway when he had his relapses. Well, that was until Esme came out, offering towels, rags, and wrapped-up bologna sandwiches. Seth wasn't shy about offering the vampire a hug, taking his stuff, and jogging inside the plantation house. Jacob took his and Leah's stuff as he knew the wolf girl wouldn't bother with her.

You and Leah watched Seth go into the large dark oak doors, your heart sinking deeper as the heavy doors closed. "Y/n..." Esme's voice was soft, hesitant as she said your name. You didn't have anything to say to her, other than " thanks..." Before you could grab your belongings from her she gently wraps an arm around your shoulder- and pulls you against her chest.

Even now you couldn't hate Esme, as she held you in a cold, hard- yet gentle embrace, as she placed her head on your chest to listen to your stuttering heartbeat. You couldn't help but hold her back, you needed this. You needed her motherly love more than anything, and you hated to admit that.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered against your chest, her voice soft, filled with emotion she couldn't release through tears. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't her fault that her son was a prick. "Don't apologize..." your voice was hard, but underneath it was a crack as your arms tightened around her, inhaling the sickening sweet scent that made you a little nauseous but you couldn't help but find a little comfort in it. Your body was fighting itself, you wanted to pull away, to step several feet away... but this was Esme.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity even though it was only two minutes, she pulled away have gave you the kindest smile before handing you your stuff. "You can use Carlisle and Is bathroom."

You've never actually been inside the Cullens home. You didn't understand the underlying hatred your dad had towards the Cullens, always assuming it was because his youngest daughter was starting to date. That was until you asked him about it and he chalked it up to "family history."  You just said that that was stupid and the past was in the past. Yet you were still respectful and followed his wishes not to be in the Cullen's personal space... yet that didn't stop you from hanging out with them elsewhere.

So when you stood at the doorway of their home, dark eyes widened and mouth slightly parted in awe, you didn't expect their house to feel like a... home. It was so bright, and warm. Thankfully the rest of the Cullens family were probably upstairs, with Bella or out.

You took your time to look at the living room, ivory, dark wood, and whites decorating the home, it looked like it was barely used. It was almost freakishly clean. You could feel Esme's gaze on you as you peered over to the large window on the back wall, the glass reaching from corner to corner, exposing the lush greenery behind their home.

You hated to be a dick rider, but...This was kinda insane. You wouldn't know what to do with this kinda money. You didn't want to give them too much credit though, still hurt and feeling petty, you looked away from the view in the living room and turned your gaze over to the stairs. "I'll show you up to our room," Esme finally spoke up, even though she was physically young, her tone was so motherly and kind. While she led you up to the stairs, that's when your body started to naturally hesitate, as if your instincts were almost screaming at you to turn around, that this was danger.

Before you were even halfway up the stairs, you began hearing them, their voices almost in a hushed whisper, yet some spoke normally. Your senses were already on ten, the suffocating smell of vampires attacking your nose. And by the time you landed on the floor to the second floor, you didn't dare to look at them, yet you could feel them looking at you. Their stares were heavy, yet you kept your eyes on Esme's head as she led you down the hallway and towards a door. "The door near the window, sweetheart." She instructed as you twisted the knob and walked in.

You gave her a small thank you(even though you were uncomfortable, you still had manners), before shutting the door.

Their room was unnaturally clean as you gave it a quick scan. You didn't want to linger, you didn't want to get comfortable in these people's houses like you all were buddies. Quick shower, 10 minutes in and out... okay maybe 20 because their lotion was expensive and you had to try it.

You kicked off your sneakers fairly quickly, leaving them beside their bedroom door, and went across their room to the bathroom.

"You think she hates us?" Emmett spoke up in the quiet room, his hands planted on his wife's waist, comforting her as she looked at the room where you disappeared.

No one spoke up, the siblings equally used that silence for the answer. Alice felt anxious, her eyes flickering up to her mate who tightly held her hand. Of course, Jasper knew the answer to all their questions, your emotions roaring with anger, disappointment, and disgust. But your sadness was what caught his attention, so much sadness covered with the thin blanket of anger.

Jasper was a private person, not exactly keen on sharing your private feelings with his nosy family. He had respect for you even though the two of you shared few words, and so he just settled on giving his wife a small smile, not a direct answer.

"It broke another rib." The almost quiet voice of Carlisle spoke through the den, Bella who was being held up by Edward, and the doctor gently moving from his office turned surgeon's office.

"Oh, Bella..." Esme whispered.

Edward's face twisted as though the words physically wounded him. His jaw clenched hard, marble-like, as he adjusted Bella in his arms, holding her like she might shatter into dust at any moment. Yet Bella still had a smile on her face, like she was trying to comfort them, her family.

Jasper shifted beside Alice, rubbing slow circles against her back as her eyes stayed fixed on Bella — or maybe past her, at the future she couldn't stop. No one could.

You were still in the bathroom, hands rubbing the dried sweat from your skin with some expensive shower gel. The water was hot, steam flowing from your skin.

You could hear everything through the thin walls — every breath, every choked-back word. You hated how sensitive your hearing had become, like a curse wrapped in instinct.

And you hated more how your heart panged for Bella, even after everything.

Even after the betrayal. The lies. The wedding. The child growing inside her that was killing her.

You hated her, and you didn't.

Your throat burned as you swallowed down the mess of emotions swirling in your chest.

You didn't have time for this. You had to stay strong.

You forced yourself upright and dragged your fingers through your short curls, catching on a snarl and yanking it loose with a wince. Get it together. You were still their alpha. You were still you.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Y/n? Sweetheart?" Esme's voice floated through, hesitant but kind. "If you need more time, it's okay."

You sucked in a shaky breath and shut off the water.

Esme stood there, hands folded gently in front of her. Her golden eyes — unnervingly soft — flicked over you, searching for signs of your storm. You avoided her gaze, brushing past her with your shoulders squared. You slid on your sneakers by their door and headed back toward the living room like you hadn't just been falling apart behind closed doors.

The moment you stepped into the space, all eyes cut to you.

Jacob, leaning against the far wall, tense and rigid like he wanted to explode.

Edward, seated near the fire, his gaze locking onto yours like you were the sun itself. He hadn't seen you since the wedding, and you were hoping for longer. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. You looked different. A strange difference and he could barely recognize you.

You ignored them both.

Your eyes landed on Bella. His wife, your old friend, seated next to him, heavy blankets around the frail body you had yet seen.

She looked back at you with a weak, fleeting smile — full of hope and naivety, as if that small expression could bridge the cavern between you. As if a smile could fix a heart broken beyond recognition.

It couldn't.

Your face remained hard, unreadable. You wouldn't give her that comfort. You refused to. Deep down you thrived on making them just as uncomfortable as you felt.

Carlisle cleared his throat, his expression grim. "We're losing time."

The words felt like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Jacob flinched. Seth, standing at his side, let out a small, broken sound in the back of his throat.

Your jaw tightened as you crossed your arms over your chest, muscles tense.

"What's the plan?" you asked, your voice even, though inside you were barely keeping steady.

Carlisle hesitated. Then, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he admitted the truth none of them wanted to face. "I don't know."

He didn't know.

Words you didn't want to hear from a 300-odd-year-old vampire.

Fuck.

A thick silence followed.

You could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on you as if they were waiting for you to declare what came next. You weren't a Cullen, you weren't Bella's friend anymore — hell, you weren't even supposed to be here- nor did you want to be here! But somehow, you were the only one still standing tall.

Jacob's voice broke the quiet, hoarse, and raw. "Then we figure it out," he said. His eyes met yours, pleading. "We fight for her."

You didn't answer right away.

Because the truth was, you didn't know who you were fighting for anymore.

Bella?

Yourself?

The future?

You swallowed the lump in your throat and finally, finally, nodded.

"They'll be coming for us... Sam and the pack..." you said, your eyes glossing over each golden iris that looked at you.

"We're going to need a plan."

_______

@smenny

@lady-ragnvindr

@itsmytimetoodream

@kyrah-williams

@iv3t

@esposadomd

@delvira-only-baby

@dietothemusic

@lola-bunny765

@hw-shorty

@twililty

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@twililty

[attempted--eloquence]

Hi hi!! I'm the person whos been leaving heinously long comments on ao3 lately- heh

I honestly just wanted to hear what first drew you to theo and liam as a ship. I always felt like they had such a push-pull dynamic in the show (almost noxious chemistry) but i feel like my view of them has evovled so much since while reading Handle With Care. Also, thiam aside, what drew you to Theo as a character on his own? My friend and I have always (lovingly lol) fought over him because she hates his guts and ive always felt this strange pull to him. Like is he a bad human being? Yes. Is he so much more than that though? Also yes. You're takes on him are always fascinating to me.

Sorry for such a big question! I'm always so wordy 🤭

Omg HI!!!!!!! 💗 Also there is no such thing as heinously long comments I would rejoice over a dissertation in my inbox I stg!!!

Okay, regarding Liam and Theo: you show me two characters who communicate like they hate each other but all their actions scream the opposite, I will be LOOKING👀 Make those two characters also have incredibly complex emotional backgrounds and an ugly history together and I am done for. I’m gonna get really ramble-y here so more under the cut!!

You’re so right, there is such a push-pull between them not only literally in their interactions but also in their personality traits!! Something complementary about them that I think borders on clashing. A sort of heart vs brain thing. Open book vs brick wall.

Theo seems to treat emotion as a tool at best and a weakness at worst (boy always had the waterworks ON TAP in s5 whenever he needed to manipulate someone lmao), so for him to be sooo mindful of Liam’s emotional state in s6—even if he’s provoking him, it’s for a reason—and also weirdly encouraging toward him is such a pleasant change of pace. Obsessed with the way their relationship started under the guise of responsibility and was held together by the threat of Theo being sent back, became a sort of begrudged alliance, became trust??? Kinship??? I’m like foaming at the mouth.

Theo is like at the center of Liam’s guilt over stuff that happened in s5: missing Hayden’s death + trying to kill Scott. I think there’s something to be said about Liam bringing Theo back not only giving Theo a chance to “redeem” himself (heavy on the air-quotes, I have convoluted thoughts about Theo and the idea of redemption, but I digress) but also that it could’ve facilitated Liam forgiving himself for s5. (Cough cough, “Scott will never forgive you,” Liam says to Theo in the middle of a scene that revolves around Liam’s anger and his inability to stop himself from hurting people when he’s having an outburst. In the locker room, as they’re STANDING IN FRONT OF A MIRROR. The idea that Liam is projecting his own guilt and concerns about Scott’s forgiveness onto Theo here is positively yummy.)

From “you’re going to help us or you’re going back [in the ground]” to Theo voluntarily showing up to save Liam’s ass and Liam saying “I will fight with you” just…nghhh I dunno to me it feels like now being able to look at the past and accept it, even if it’s ugly. Not being wounded by it anymore. For both of them.

Okay, so regarding what drew me to Theo…..he is just so…[dreamy sigh] fucked up. What can I say, he lured me in with his sociopathic swagger in s5 and won me over with his kicked dog demeanor in s6💘 also I think he’s a fucking freak (affectionate). I wish I could better articulate what made me obsessed with him but I’m past the point of no return with my fixation on him that I can’t remember my brain being normal anymore. There is simple B.T. and A.T. (Before Theo and After Theo).

Like…he shows up in s5 with this story about Scott helping him through an asthma attack tucked beneath his tongue and all these speeches at the ready for why he showed up to join Scott’s pack and I can’t help but wonder how long he planned for that. How long he practiced those lines and his delivery and the inflection and the facial expressions. He spent part of his childhood being raised by such inhuman unfeeling robotic beings and yet he can tap into this emotional expressiveness like no other; he smiles, he plays coy, he feigns concern, he gives hugs, he constantly offers help, he cries, and it’s all an act. But I feel like the most honest thing about him in s5 is whenever he has to interact with the Dread Doctors—it’s like he can’t stop being a scared kid. He’s all false bravado, a paper tiger.

And beyond trying to take Scott’s power to become an alpha (and sever the tie between him and the DDs by being a real werewolf), I feel like Theo was also kind of trying to assert his flawed existence in front of a creator that can’t see him as anything but a failed experiment. A sort of, I am like this because you made me like this. To think that The Surgeon came into the whole chimera/beast project kind of out of…love? (A desire to bring back your closest friend that drives you to the point of abandoning all humanity for a centuries-long scientific pursuit is a beautifully insane form of love to me lmfao). And there’s some kind of devotion between a scientist and its experiment, something like love in the act of surgery, and yet they regard Theo with such indifference because he’s not successful in the right way. The failure was the Dread Doctors’ but Theo wore it like his own. Dude’s fucked.

((Not to mention The Beast gets resurrected and fucking kills them. There it is!!! Theres the success! There’s the love! What they wanted was this creature that would kill them instead of acquiesce. They wanted a monster but they raised a kid.))

I also think part of what’s appealing about Theo from a writing perspective is that his backstory is vague enough that there’s room to creatively fill in some blanks, but also the parts of his life that we do know about—and the parts we can infer from everyone else’s interactions with the DDs—are pretty bleak. He’s also really easy to project onto for that reason. Fear of imperfection and/or failure? Check! Inferiority complex? Check! Childhood upended by trauma? Check! Alienated from your own body? Check! Feeling inherently different than everyone around you? Check! Isolated and unable to authentically connect with other people? Check and check.

This is totally a headcanon bc obviously we don’t know if the Dread Doctors kept Theo in BH the whole time, but lately I’ve been fixated on the idea of him potentially growing up in the tunnels — and, like, those run underground all over Beacon Hills, right? The idea of him having this life that runs parallel to Scott and Stiles, but beneath their feet the whole time, makes me crazy. Stiles said that he used to skateboard in the tunnels and I’m bashing my head against a wall at the thought of Theo watching him from afar. Of Theo watching from afar every time the pack members go in the tunnels over the course of the show pre-s5. Of him living adjacent to the pack but not a part of it. Dude wants to be part of something soooo bad he wants to be accepted as he is soooo bad (gonna lose it over him being in the tunnels with Mason and saying “maybe I want to be in the pack”).

Okay I’m so sorry I don’t even think I scratched the surface of my thoughts on Theo here yet I’m rambling past the point of meaning right now😭 so, in summary…I just think he’s neat.

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

Hi! can you do an nsfw ayato alphabet?

NSFW Alphabet – Ayato Sakamaki Edition

A = Aftercare

He pretends he doesn’t care, but he always pulls you close afterward, cocky smirk replaced with something softer.

"You okay, Chichinashi? Heh… you better be. Only I get to break you."

You might find him bringing you snacks later, claiming they’re “his” — but handing them over anyway.

B = Body Part

On you? Your thighs. He loves biting them, marking them, pushing them apart.

On himself? His tongue. Ayato lives for licking, tasting, teasing — down there, on your neck, anywhere you squirm.

C = Cum

He likes cumming inside you. Period. Seeing his cum dripping out of you? That’s peak possession.

"Tch, look at that. Proof you're mine. You better not waste a drop."

D = Dirty Secret

He’s fantasized about tying you up with his school tie and teasing you until you cry and beg. He may act goofy, but Ayato has a darker, possessive streak.

E = Experience

Moderately experienced — enough to be cocky, but still eager to learn what drives you wild. He wants to be your best. Ever. Always.

F = Favorite Position

Missionary with your legs on his shoulders — perfect angle for deep thrusts and biting your neck. He also loves cowgirl because he gets to watch your face while you ride him, but eventually flips you and takes over.

G = Goofy

Very! Especially before sex. He’ll tease you, chase you, fake pout until you give in. During? Less goofy, more growly — but still loves hearing you giggle before he wrecks you.

H = Hair

Keeps it trimmed out of laziness more than aesthetics. He doesn’t care much about yours either, as long as he’s allowed access where it counts.

I = Intimacy

Surprisingly high. He doesn’t say romantic things often, but he shows it in how he watches you, touches you like he’s starved.

"You're mine. No one else gets to see you like this, Chichinashi."

J = Jack-Off

If you’re gone too long? Absolutely. He'll mutter your name while stroking himself fast and messy. Bonus points if he uses something of yours — like a worn shirt or a voice message.

K = Kinks

Bloodplay & biting

Marking/possessiveness

Praise kink (giving and receiving!)

Overstimulation

Pet names during sex ("mine," "baby," "Chichinashi")

Breeding kink (he doesn’t always admit it, but he has one)

L = Location

Anywhere. The bed, the shower, the school library, the couch, against a wall… He doesn’t care. He likes the risk — and the thrill of getting caught with you moaning under him.

M = Motivation

You wearing his shirt, getting flustered, or looking at him like he hung the moon. If you bite him? It’s over. He’s got you pinned in seconds.

N = No

He won’t tolerate sharing you — ever. And he’s not into any humiliation that makes you cry for real. He might tease you, but he wants you to feel worshiped in the end.

O = Oral

Receiving? LOVES it. He’ll hold your hair, groan low, and praise you in broken gasps.

Giving? He’s chaotic. Sometimes rough and messy, sometimes slow and intense. He loves watching you twitch when he focuses on your clit.

P = Pace

Rough and fast. He’s competitive even in bed. He wants to hear the sound of skin slapping and your breathy gasps and pants. That said, if you’re overstimulated and crying? He’ll slow down to savor it.

Q = Quickie

Yes, yes, yes. He thrives on adrenaline. Locker rooms, behind the school, hallway closets — just moan his name and he's unbuckling his belt with a grin.

R = Risk

Very high. Ayato lives for danger. The more forbidden the situation, the harder he gets.

"They could hear you, y’know? What if someone sees you getting ruined by me? Tch… you like that?"

S = Stamina

Ridiculously high. He’ll go two or three rounds easily — more if he’s riled up, especially after feeding on you.

"Again? Hah, don't cry, you can take it. You're strong, remember?"

T = Toys

He prefers being the toy, but he’ll use vibrators, ropes, and mirrors if it makes you beg for him. Bonus if you ask him to use them while watching you squirm helplessly.

U = Unfair

So unfair. Ayato will tease you until you cry, then coo in your ear like it’s your fault.

"So needy, huh? Look at you... can’t even think straight. Say my name again."

V = Volume

Loud. Growls, moans, teasing whispers, dirty talk. He loves hearing your reactions too, so he’ll talk the whole time to get them out of you.

W = Wild Card

He’s turned on by the idea of biting you during orgasm. Syncing his release with your moan while his fangs are in your neck? Instant dopamine.

X = X-Ray

7.5 inches, thick, and curved slightly up. Just enough to stretch you out and make you feel it deep. He knows how to use it, and he’ll ask, "You feel that? Deep, huh?"

Y = Yearning

Very high. He’s touch-starved and loves having your full attention. Even when he’s cocky, he’s a boy who just wants to be wanted.

Z = Zzz

Lays on you like a weighted blanket and passes out, mumbling something like "Warm... stay right there, Chichinashi..."

[cautious-soup]

I Know You Are (And So Am I)

Part 1

4k word Mickey 17 Character Study bc I have no self-control

Tags: selfcest, mutual pining, mutual simping for Nasha, blowjobs, frottage, wearing your girlfriend's lipstick and sucking yourself off, chess, 18 is mean, 17 is distressed, both are idiots, 5+1 fic

17

I try not to think too much ya know? About what we've been doin and all.

Me and Nasha and Me.

Or him, rather.

We don't call each other anything consistently, mostly he calls me things like 'dipshit' and 'fuck face' and 'pathetic'.

Or puppy, but that's a pretty recent development.

It's funny, the puppy nickname caught on with Nasha too so, now she just calls me puppy a lotta the time, but I don't mind when she does it.

I guess—maybe, you know it could be worse? We could still be trying to kill each other, and he could still completely hate me instead of partially hating me, it's the little things. Little things are what keep us alive on this shitscape.

It's been 5 times—I dunno why I've been counting.

First time was when me and him and Nasha, we were all on her bed—and usually it's just me and Nasha, or him and Nasha, but hardly me, him and Nasha.

But even before all this, he was always lookin at me. Always, and especially when he was fuckin Nasha. Made me half sick to watch em' like that but...the other half of me...

God, I just feel like sucha traitor sometimes, I dunno to who, cause Nasha loves all of it.

Anyway, the first time, Nasha was under him, and her head was in my lap. We were facing each other, see? And he was fuckin Nasha, and I looked down at her, cause shes super pretty all the time but especially when shes like that. S'like she's melting or somethin, I dunno.

Then, he just made some kinda noise like in the back of his throat, and next thing I knew, his hands were in my hair, and we were kissin, like really kissin with tongue and teeth and...just...

Then, Nasha turned around and rode me hard enough to make the entire ship shake. And he, well, he just sat back and watched—while his lips were all red, smirkin like he knew somethin.

I hate that look, I really do. He's a real know it all, when in reality he knows as much as me...or as little, I dunno.

18

I used to think I didn't have room for anything else in my heart but Nasha. Well, it wasn't really me thinkin' that just...other me's.

But now? I got room for one more, just a little. But not cause I'm in love with him or anything, or even cause I like him, cause I don't—never have.

At first, just seein' his face twist up into that pathetic looking grimace whenever Nasha and I fucked was enough; it should've stayed that way.

But I'm a greedy bastard I guess.

My ire towards him horse-shoed back into somethin else. It was itchy, the kinda itch that was hard to reach, but I reached for it anyway.

The first time was fleetin, just a few seconds before he was pounced on by Nasha. She always looks gorgeous from behind, her back is perfect, it was always a nice view. But seein his face go all red and seein his eyes start to water from how much it was, that was even better.

Mostly his cryin pissed me off, God he was a crier, I still refuse to believe we're the same person. But sometimes there's just somethin about his face. It was the same face I saw reflected at me whenever I looked in the mirror, but different. Heh, he looked like a kicked puppy. I started callin him that after the first incident.

The second time, we were arguin like always, and he was furious—as furious as he could be anyway, because I'd gone a little too far with the oxy the night before and woke up late for a shift the mornin after. He was gettin all up and arms and blah blah blah, whining whining like the bitch he is. 

First I shoved him, then he shoved me, so I punched him, and shoved him again till he hit the wall.

Maybe it's cause we were both so high strung, or maybe I shouldn'ta gotten so close to him like I did, but he looked at me the same way he'd looked at me the first time.

So, I gave him what he so obviously wanted, cause he's too pathetic to ask. 

He stiffened like he had the first time, just for a second, before realizing that yes we were kissing and yes it was weird and yes we were thinkin the same thing, cause we were the same person.

Then, he grabbed the front of my shirt and flipped us so that I was the one against the wall. It was weird, I gasped, and then he kissed me again before I could take another breath, and kept goin until I was clawing at the front of his shirt.

And let it be known, I let him do that—just throwin him a bone is all, let him take his bitchy anger out on me.

It's weird kissin yourself. We both tasted the same, I ran my tongue over the same crooked molar I had in my own mouth, ran my hands through hair the same length, color and texture as mine, feelin the same stubble with the same hands.

You get real dizzy if you think about it for too long.

So I don't. We don't.

17

The third time was a little weird.

We don't got a lot to do for fun on the ship, but me and 18 especially. We can't be in two places at once, not really, or else people'll start suspectin us of bein multiples…which we are.

Only Timo knows of course, ya know he's really the only other guy we got around here. On the whole planet.

It's funny, Timo can call himself the one best unicyclists on the planet, cause hardly anyone else on our crew knows how.

Anyway, we gotta maximize everything on the ship, space, time, energy, everything— it's real stressful.

But sometimes, if you go way over quota on somethin, you get a board game or a puzzle or somethin to keep yourself occupied. I've never gotten one even though I've died over a dozen times, no, but Timo gets em a lot. He's got Scrabble, Uno, a Magic 8 Ball, chess.

And see, I've never played chess, so Timo offered to teach us how to play, me and 18 anyway. I originally didn't want to, but then 18 said, "Makes sense, I've probably got more brains than you anyway,"

And that's not true at all, so I decided to tag along.

"Do you know the basics?" Timo asked me. He was settin up the board on a small table in front of his bed, and 18 was across from me, twirlin' one of the black pieces in his hand.

"Uh, no, I don't," I said.

"I guess that means you don't either,"

"No, I don't," 18 said.

Timo looked between us. He did that a lot, I think we kinda freaked him out when we were in the same room together. Well that, and also 18 tried to kill him, but he also tried to kill me and I don't think he's that scary.

"Well," Timo said, "It's pretty simple uh," he held up a piece, it was small with a rounded top.

"So, this is a pawn, you get eight of em, they all go up in front." he said, waving his hand over where all the pieces were lined up.

"What's-"

18 and I paused, we were speaking at the same time again, and he always hated when that happened. He sneered at me didn't bother finishin the question, so I finished it for us, "What's um, what's that castle one called."

"Ah, I was just about to move on to that one," Timo said, "This one's my favorite, the rook. It moves like this, striaght lines, see?" He said, moving it up and down the board in straight lines.

After Timo explained the pieces, he pitted 18 and I against each other, and I got to go first since I had the white pieces. I picked the pawn and moved it up one space. 18 picked his horse guy, moved him to the front.

"Huh, you can do that?" I asked. Timo's voice came from behind me, "Yeah, you uh, gotta be creative with this game Mick,"

"S'not that creative," I muttered, sliding another pawn forward.

After a few more turns, I reached for the weird lookin piece and paused.

I couldn't remember what it was called, the pastor? I dunno, it didn't look like much of anythin, and I just had my hand hoverin over it for like a minute, and 18 was just lookin at me and I knew he was gonna give me shit for this later, for not knowin which pieces did what.

"You remember what that one does right or, heh, nevermind, I guess you don't," Timo said, getting off the bed and bending over behind me. "Here," he said, arm reaching around my body to the board. He moved the piece diagonally, so that's what it did.

I looked at the board for a little bit more, then looked back up.

18 had his chin propped in his hand, which was covering his mouth. I did that a lot too—we're the same person after all—but I only did it when I was pissed off about somethin, and 18 was always pissed off, so I didn't think too much of it.

We kept goin, then Timo's pager went off.

"Ahh shit—" Timo looked at us as he got out of his bed and shrugged on a jacket, "Yeah ok I gotta go but I'll be back—you guys keep playing if you want, I might be a bit," he said.

18 didn't look at Timo at all as he left the room, and as soon as the door closed the table was flipped, the pieces were scattered, and I was on my fuckin back.

"What the fuck!?" I yelled, shoving at 18's chest, but he just yanked me up by my shirt and looked at me with that crazed look in his eye, and I was shrinkin back before I knew it cause jeez, it was creepy seein my own face lookin at me like that.

"I swear, you go out of your way to piss me the fuck off,"

"I didn't do anything you dick—" I said, "What's your problem?"

"My problem," He said, grabbing my face with one hand and keepin the other fisted in my shirt, "Is you bein all buddy buddy with that asshole,"

"Wh-I-" I couldn't talk all that well cause my mouth was squished between 18's hand, and I guess my hands are pretty big.

Anyway, it didn't take me too long to figure out what was goin on, 18 and I are the same person after all, even though we act so different.

Which made it weirder, cause he had to know I didn't feel that way towards Timo, just Nasha, only Nasha.

And I guess…

He must've seen what I was thinkin', cause he cut it short. With his mouth. My mouth.

The back of my head hit Timo's bed, and 18 pinned me against it as best he could, he was sucha control freak.

It was funny, we were kissing and running our hands all over eachother like we were explorin but, we were each other. There couldn't have been anything to explore, right?

Pretty soon, I'm on my back again, and 18 is on toppa me, and we're both hard. Up till now it's just been kissing, but then he's nosin at my neck, and runnin a hand up my thigh. He presses his thumb to the inside, just like Nasha does, cause she knows it drives us crazy.

Nasha…

I squeezed my eyes shut, and he pulled away.

"Stop," he said.

I sat up "But,"

"It's not the same,"

"We're-"

"It's not," 18 said, leaning back in, "The same,"

It couldn't be, right?

"C'mon puppy," he said, "Don't you wanna treat yourself to somethin' different?" his hand climbed toward the hem of my pants. I was saggin against the bed, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't move.

But, he didn't need to ask if I wanted it, he already knew.

He kissed me again, and told me to pull my pants down, so I did, and he laughed when he saw how hard I was. He really had some nerve, I could see he was in the same condition—it was right in fronta me.

Then, it was really in fronta me when he pulled his own pants down—it's really somethin seein your own dick from so many different angles. We both just stared for a while, but I reached forward first.

"Nk," 18 grunted when I wrapped my hand around him. It wasn't like jerkin off, cause of the angle, but technically it was.

He was breathin hard, and leaned forward till our forheads touched. I started movin my hand then, and he sighed. I tried brin a hand up to his face, I dunno why, but he batted it away and urged me back more—the head of Timo's bed clattered against the wall. He rose up on his knees till his dick was in my face, grippin the foot of the bed, and jerkin himself off.

But I didn't want that, clearly, so I leaned foward and fitted my lips around the head. A lotta guys try suckin themselves off I heard, I never tried myself, at least until now.

I definitely get the appeal.

I tried doin it the way Nasha does, but she's way better at it than me, along with most other things. Still, I dunno why, but I wanted to bring 18 over the edge myself, with my own mouth. His mouth.

I looked up at him as I tried to take more and gosh, I thought I was just average sized, but I guess even agerage takes a lot to swallow down. 18 looked down at me, confused. S'funny, I always thought I'd look awkward from this angle, but I guess I looked pretty good, and tasted pretty good.

Then suddenly, I couldn't get enough. I don't remember when I closed my eyes but they were closed, and my hands were braced around 18's thighs, and I was bobbin my head. 18 was makin a lotta noise above me, even though he was trying not to, and that made me half-crazy—I dunno why.

"That's it puppy, fuck—that's it," he said, "Guess you're not useless after all huh? Shit, ugh,"

Nasha and I both know each other's tells—when we want more, less, when we're close. Nasha always brings arm up and across her eyes just before she finishes. She tells me I make a sound before I cum too, but I've never really paid attention to it until now.

18 gripped my head and held me there, and I let him, even though I started to choke a little.

"Haah ngh—ahh…haah…haah,"

Huh, so that's what I sounded like.

And I tasted awful, I pulled my mouth off coughing, my own jizz fallin outta my mouth in globs. I didn't wanna swallow any of it, I wasn't sure what my body's reaction would be to that. 18 collapsed, on his knees in fronta me, and rested his forhead on my shoulder. I was confused, until I felt his hand wrap around my dick.

I didn't even realize how hard I was until then, but I was a goner after just five strokes. 18 laughed, he was really outta breath, and pulled away to sit back.

"Jeez," he breathed.

"Yeah," I said, watching the jizz soak into the rug beneath us.

Timo would be pissed if he found out.

18

We don't got much by waya cosmetics here. Nasha hates it—and I hate it too by extension. On earth she says she had a bit of a problem with make-up, a shopping addiction, but she still loved it. All her friends would ask her to do their faces for em.

She said she had a new look every day. 17 goes on and on about how he wishes he coulda seen it, but Nasha looks gorgeous enough already. Still…it must've been somethin.

She's only got the basics on the ship, lipstick, foundation and mascara. She uses em pretty sparingly, 'cept for when she needs to mark us on the occasions we all end up in bed together. Hasn't happened lately though, mostly cause 17's a bitch about what he and I have been doin lately.

Speakin of, that leads me to the fourth time.

Yeah, there was an event of some sort goin on for the security staff, the kind where Nasha got to dress up nice. I don't got a tux cause I didn't think to bring one, but Nasha's got two sets of real nice clothes, a dress and a pantsuit. I like the pantsuit best, 17 prefers the dress.

He was out on a shift so I was the one that got to help dress Nasha this time around. She kissed me goodbye and left, said she'd be gone for a couple of hours, left me alone waitin for 17 to get back so I could brag that I got to doll up Nasha without him. He got real whiney about things like that, greedy bastard.

Since I've been on this ship I've only ever used my room for sleepin and showerin, and even though Nasha's room's the same layout as mine, I prefer her's.

But so does 17, cause we're the same person after all.

I was expecting him when he came into Nasha's room, still half frozen from bein' outside so long. I used to wish he'd just die out there, but then I realized that wouldn't solve anything, they'd just print another.

There really is no escape from this shithole is there.

Anyway, 17 looked at me, then around the room.

"Where's Nasha?"

"At the security thing, she told us like a million times," I said.

"I mean yeah but it's not for another half hour,"

"She's chronically early, you know this,"

"Well um, I dunno I just thought-"

"Thought what?" I asked, sitting up on her bed, "That'd she'd wait up for you puppy? She's got better things to do than wait around for a sad sack like you," I laughed. 17's jaw ticked, and he looked off to the side all dejected like. Loser.

In that moment, I thought it was cute. Most people don't look in the mirror and find themselves cute, but this is different.

I know he and I act different, we basically have different personalities. Dorothy says it's cause it's pretty much impossible to make a perfect copy of a human brain. The memories are just one part, the rest ends up different each time. She also said I shoulda known cause personality alteration was listed as a risk in the paperwork, but whatever.

17 thinks I'm crazy and I let him believe it, it's funny. Nasha likes us both, but I bring out parts of her that none of the other me's have. When you give good enough, you get even better.

Sometimes I think about me and Nasha tag teamin 17, cornering him and havin our way with him till he disentigrates back into the trash goop he came from.

I'll fess up, that fantasy's been livin in the backa my head for a while—rears its head when neither of em are around and I gotta take care of myself.

And I know that, since I'm him, he's thinking somethin similar, and he knows that I know and so on.

"Whatever," 17 said, turnin around to the door to leave.

And see, I'm not a fan of bein dismissed, 'specially like that, so I was at the door and closing it before he could get past the threshold.

I already knew what he was about to ask.

"What do you want?"

I stared at him for a while, I knew he was gonna ask but I didn't know how to answer, I didn't know.

What did I want?

I decided to play the usual game, "You know,"

"No I don't, fuck's sake, we got different brains I don't—I don't know what you're thinkin most of the time…" he sighed, brushing past me.

I turned around and watched as he fell back on Nasha's bed.

"When's she gonna be back," he whined, such a fuckin whiny bitch.

"I dunno," I lied. I did, but I liked seein him all impatient n' anxious.

He grabbed the pillow at the fronta the bed and spooned it. I didn't say anything, cause he probably knew damn well I did it too when Nasha wasn't around, and like all the other me's did before

But that's cause we were alone before.

I walked toward the bed and kicked it, 17 didn't budge, so I kicked it again.

"I know you're gonna try takin the pillow next, don't try it, m'not in the mood,"

What a baby. I reached down and snatched the pillow from his grip anyway.

"Dick," he muttered, didn't move.

Tch.

I threw the pillow back on the bed, felt my jaw clench in irritation.

Every one of us has experienced moods where all we want is Nasha, nothin' else. I get it, but it's pathetic when it's him.

Then, my eyes caught the lipstick sitting on her bathroom sink. I glanced back at him, before walking inside and grabbing it.

I caught myself in the mirror, turned my face left, then right. I could see the depressed lump in the reflection, his back was turned.

Then, I had an idea.

I unscrewed the lip stick and turned it in my hands and realized I'd never really seen it up close, s'weird. I looked back up at the mirror and leaned forward, 17 was still mopin'. The lipstick had a kinda angle to it, and I guessed you were supposed to press it to your lips and spread it. Nasha always did it so quick, it was harder than it looked.

Still, I don't think I looked half bad after.

I sat on the bed, rocking it and making 17 curl in on himself more.

"Fuck off, dickhead," he murmured.

"Hm," I said, "So you wish Nasha were here huh?"

He didn't respond, so I grabbed his shoulder and turned him over.

"Ugh will you just—juhh…uh," He stuttered when he saw me, eyes goin wide.

Cute.

"You want Nasha so bad so just thinka me as a close second, yeah puppy?" I said, leanin forward to press my lips to the corner of his, makin' sure I left a nice red lip print there.

"Wh—" He blinked, then scrambled further up the bed, "What're you doin huh? Wearin Nasha's stuff like that—"

I shut him up with my mouth, ya know, s'annoying to me when he talks too much.

"Why don't you close your eyes," I rasped after pulling back, kissing his jaw and trailing down his neck. I pulled up his shirt, and yanked down the hem of his pants.

"O-oh, oh god," he said, head falling back on the pillow with a thump as I pulled his dick out.

It surprised me seein it so close, cause I was a lot bigger than I thought. At least, from the perspective of someone about to swallow the whole thing down.

I looked at it again, and decided I'd start slow, like he did. That's all this was really, I was returnin' the favor.

"Hng, fuck I, ugh," 17 wouldn't stop whimperin', all I was doin was jerkin him off. He was probably havin' another crisis, even though I thought we cleared it up last time that what we were doin wasn't the same.

Not that I'd ever tell him, but the blowjob he gave me had me at the edges of my sanity—what little of it was left in a place like this. I dunno what it was, maybe how he looked on his knees for me, or how much he seemed to like it, but I'd resolved to one up him, do better.

I looked up at him and smirked, he had streaks of lipstick all over his face, his neck. I liked how it looked, and could think of one place that shade of red would look even better.

After makin sure he and I were making eye contact, I leaned down and pressed my lips to the side of his shaft, the part where I knew we were both sensitive.

17 seemed out of breath, so I kept goin, lickin' up the length of him and back down, takin' one of his balls in my mouth. To be honest I had no idea what I was doin', but no matter what I did he was so responsive…I can't remember if I was like this when he went down on me or not—that whole memory is just white now.

After toyin' with him for a while, I decided to really get to work, but I barely had my lips around his head before he was grippin the sheets and shooting into my mouth. I held his thighs down and took it all, didn't want any to get on the bed.

"Haah—you, why…aah, hah…" he panted.

"Lame," I muttered, swallowing down the jizz and sitting back on my feet, "I expect somethin to be done about this, by the way," I said, pointin to the bulge in my pants, "Tit for tat."

17 was still laying back on the bed, gulpin down air, so I straddled him, "Hey, quit bein a bitch and take care of this, come on,"

He had his forearm across his eyes, but he peeked up at me. I was confused why he was blushin, till I remembered I still had the lipstick on, which made me blush too.

He sat up and pulled my dick out, then pressed it against his own—he was hard again already.

I flinched for some reason when he started strokin me, and I couldn't stop shudderin, so I let myself fall against him a bit. Then we were kissing again, all slow, and he was strokin' me even slower, but I wanted him to get on with it so I started buckin my hips against his.

"Mmm," he hummed against my mouth, bracing a hand on my pelvis and making me slow down. It was a unique kinda feeling, having your dick pressed against one that was identical to your own. Well, not quite, cause his had a lipstick stain on the side. I don't think it was meant to be, cause it felt too fucking good to make any real sense. I hated it. I hated it so I bit him.

"F-ow," he whined, "What was that for huh?" he sighed, still keeping the same, agonizing pace, "I'm tryna be accomodating here,"

He was lookin at me funny, his mouth was about as red as mine at this point, and his eyes were half closed.

I looked down between us again, wonderin when we'd both gotten so wet. God the sound of him strokin' us together was just…

"I'm…fuck, I think," I braced my hands on both of his shoulders, looking down at us and panting.

In a situation like that, it was only natural that we both came at the same time. Fuckin' 17 kept stroking and squeezing us together like a couple of toothpaste tubes until he was sure I was empty. Both of our dicks were drenched, and I had to peel myself away from 17 before I got hard again.

"Hm, I guess I feel a bit better," 17 said, stretching and standing from the bed, "I'm gonna shower first,"

Nasha got back a while later, and was surprised to see that we'd managed to coexist in the same space for so long.

"Good job both of you," She cooed, pinching us both on the cheek.

I didn't bother tellin her that I spent most of that time tryna scrub the lipstick off.

[sodiumpentothol]

Ok so here are some sneak peeks for the Wrong Side of the Bed AU. I'm skipping blurbs for chapter 3 since that will be releasing tomorrow but I'll try to add something from each chapter.

Spoilers for the Wrong Side of the Bed AU under the cut

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

He stood there dumbly for a moment, not quite processing what had happened, until...

“Holy shit, I did it.”

It was a whisper at first, overlapping and echoing.

“I did it!”

Sam pumped several free arms---the rest were busy holding his injuries---and did a little jump, which ended up causing him to stumble. He managed to catch himself, albeit clumsily, and pumped his arms again, a little more tiredly.

“I did it...!”

The hall seemed to shrink around him---when had it even gotten so spacious in the first place? Sam’s wondering was for naught, as sooner rather than later he found himself boxed in between claustrophobic walls once more.

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

The blood from yesterday was still splattered all across the floor, though it had dried up at this point. Sam crammed into the hallway and aimed himself left, where he could see a person-shaped shadow move about in the dim light.

“Hello...?” He brought his bat to his uppermost pair of arms---the ones he’d deemed to be his main ones---and scooched closer to the figure.

“They’re spreading...” The figure responded in a hushed voice, staggering towards him. “The teeth... they’re spreading...”

That was definitely not ominous in the slightest.

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

“Get your shit together.”

Sam averted his gaze from the mirror, looking down at his hands. Right, they’d been chewed horribly---he should probably get that fixed.

Sam grabbed some ointment from his medicine cabinet, barely using enough to cover his bleeding fingers. Dammit, the bottle was almost empty. Actually, scratch that; his cabinet as a whole was almost empty. He’d need to stock up on more medical supplies if he wanted to go out and get more food. Speaking of which, he hadn’t gotten anything when he’d gone out; he had gotten a bit sidetracked with Joel.

He should probably go talk to Joel.

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

“Well-- uh... we-- we worked together, in the convenience store. Heh. Heheh. I’m-- I’m Lyle... the Lyle you worked with, remember?”

“I think I do remember, yeah.” Sam did not, in fact, remember Lyle, but he’d feel kind of bad if he told the cloaked man that. “I guess I just didn’t recognize you with the... whole thing you have going on.”

“Heh, yeah. Haha, uh, I u-understand.” Lyle smiled nervously. “I-- I couldn’t really-- uh, recognize you either.” Lyle’s eyes widened as he frantically added, “Not that I didn’t remember you or anything! I-- I just didn’t know you were... like that.”

Okayyyyy... Sam could see actual smoke coming off of Lyle, so he should probably skedaddle before the cloaked man accidentally set the whole place on fire.

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Uh, I need to get going now. Still need to get some more food and all, yeah. Bye.” Sam very gracefully exited the conversation by leaping into Lyle’s bathroom.

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

He pushed the door open and crawled through. The vast labyrinth of Floor 1 spanned before him, daunting and intimidating yet oddly welcoming. Sam slipped into the halls and began to search for any unlocked doors. The more twists and turns that he made, however, the closer he could hear something get, and it eventually got to a point where he could see a massive shadow tailing him. Sam tried to hustle it, but the hallways almost seemed to constrict the farther he went, and the thing that was following him finally caught up.

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

Those are all the things for the completed chapters I've written so far, I tried to pick tidbits of the chapters that weren't very spoiler-y but also weren't anything uninteresting. Hope y'all liked these excerpts OOF

anyway uh ima go keep drawing yeah ok YEET

[herrysmhacorner]

Dressing up (Teen Kurayami x Oboro) !One-Shot!

Summary: Oboro's friend tells him his troubles about being obligated to wear a particular piece of clothing, so to cheer him up they exchange clothing

CW: Implied bullying

The two teens run into the dressing rooms, the taller one letting go of the other to slam shut the door behind them, cackling all the way.

“Are you insane?!” The one with white hair exclaimed, yet the words held no poison, as the kid was chuckling as well. “They are gonna kill you!”

“Eh! They can try! Those two deserved it!” Oboro winked, walking closer to Kubo to check the student. “But what about you? You ok?”

“Ah- Yeah- I'm ok” The shorter one held his braid crumpling it up with their hands to get some water out of it, walking over to one of the full-bodied mirrors to assess the damage. The whole uniform was soaked, the jacket being the one that took more of the water.

“Hmph! Of course you are, that's what you always say.” 

“It's just water Oboro” Kubo gently shakes their head, looking back at the boy while taking of the jacket. “Now, what you did!”

The hero chuckles, taking a playful bowl “Yes, yes, thank you, I'm great! In my opinion it wasn't enough though”

Kubo giggles, setting the wet uniform aside. “You're kidding?! The way your clouds just picked them up and- and- threw them on the fountain?”

“It's just water, Shō” The blue haired one grinned, earning another giggle from the other.

“Stop calling me that…” Yet both knew the shorter one didn't really mean it.

“You don't wanna tell me your name! I'm not calling my frwweend by surname!” 

“Pff! Ok! Whatever, you're such a dork…” They pull the edge of their skirt, twisting it to get some of the water out.

Oboro stepped closer, looking at his friend through the mirror. “You really like those skirts, huh?”

“Eh?” 

“You know, these long ones,” He smiles. “It's the only kind you wear!”

“Oh, yeah I guess…” Kubo looks at the mirror, fidgeting with the white braid. “... I actually don't like it…”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He tilts his head, watching the shorter one.

“I don't like it… I just can't really wear anything else…” Kubo shrugs, looking away from the boy, suddenly feeling embarrassed for some reason.

“Ehhhh??? Why? Like, you can only wear skirts?” Oboro tries catching Kubo's gaze, but the other just hides more.

“My mom doesn't like… She says I would look like a brat or something like that… So I just got skirts” They swipe their hair, clearing their face to better look at the reflection. “The long ones are better but… I still don't like…” 

The taller one nods, humming in thoughts.”Soo would you rather like, wear pants?”

“If I had any… Yeah…” Kubo says quietly, looking down at their clothes.

Silence falls between them. Oboro couldn't quite understand why that seemed to matter so much to his friend, but he guesses all the little things he didn't understand about Shō it's what made his friend so interesting. 

But he did know one thing, he was great at making his friends happy. A cheeky smile grows on Oboro's face, turning to look at Kubo. “I have an idea!”

He gently shakes his head with a small smile. “What is you idea—” When they face Oboro, the boy starts pulling his pants down and Kubo hastily face away, their face burning. “OBORO! What's with you and getting naked out of nowhere?!” 

“Oh! Sorry! Heh!” He smiles.

“What even are you—” Kubo feels something touch their arm, when they turn to look at it, Kubo sees Oboro in his trousers and his pants on his hands, handing them to the shorter one. “... What is this…?”

“Try it out!” His smile grows, handing the clothing to the shorter one.

Kubo holds, examining the uniform for a second. This is stupid… But also… “... Ok…”

They set the pants aside for a moment, holding the elastic of the long skirt before looking at Oboro shyly.

“....... Oh! Sorry! My bad-” He hastily walked over to a corner, squatting down and covering his face while facing the wall.

Kubo chuckled at that, pulling down the skirt to put on Oboro's uniform. 

After a moment, Kubo finishes fixing the clothes, patting the pants while looking in the mirror. They are too big for him, but aside from being kinda baggy, it looks alright. “Done…”

“Ya done?” Oboro slowly peeks at his friend, smiling as he sees them looking in the mirror. He gets up, walking over to Kubo to look at the reflection. “What did you think?”

The shorter one is just staring at the mirror. Gosh, why does Kubo feel like crying? “I like it…”

“Yeah?” Oboro whispers, resting his chin on Kubo's shoulder.

“Yeah” They nod, smiling brightly, looking away to dry the teary eyes.

“Hm…” The boy chuckles, humming in thought. “Keep it then!” He says before walking away.

“What? No, I couldn't—” Kubo says, turning to face Oboro.

“Nah it's fine!” He picks up the still drying skirt from the counter, putting it on. “I can take this one!” Oboro chuckles, twirling around so the skirt puffs up. “How do I look?”

Kubo chuckles. “You look great but- Really I-I can't—”

“Shō!” Oboro holds his friend’s shoulders, turning them back to look at the mirror. “You look really handsome…” He says gently, feeling a flutter when he sees Kubo's eyes light up. “Keep it…”

“... Ok…” Shō smiles, putting a hand on top of Oboro's. “Thank you…”

“No worries buddy… Here for ya…” He basically whispers. “... Come on now!” He holds the shorter one's hand, dragging him away.

“Ah! Boro! Wait!” Kubo snatches his jacket before being pulled away, the voices of the two teenagers fading away the farther they get.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

thinking about tattoo artist!draken giving me you a tattoo in between and under my your tits im so unwell i want him to suck on my titties so bad HNSKSGDJKHGK okaybye

Hi Mack! Thank you for entrusting me with this awesome ask! I hope you like it! Proofed as much as I could.

WC ::: 2230 (HEY! It was 8 pages and I got it down to 5. So, you're WELCOME!)

C/W ::: MDNI, TattooArtist!Draken x F.reader, unprotected P->V and some other funsies.

You sat in the booth waiting for the artist to come in and start working on you. You'd met him a few times before while going over the finalized print of your design but why hadn't you noticed how sexy he was? He was like some mythological creature.

He walked in backwards and slid the screen all the way to the edge so the small booth was completely shut off from the rest of the shop. "Ok, ready when you are." Draken said as he turned to start getting the ink ready.

"Oh! O-ok, yeah. So, like," you hesitated with your words not wanting to seem like you were too inexperienced. You have tattoos, just not on this part of your body.

"Take your shirt and bra off and lean back and enjoy the ride." He is so fucking cool, you thought.

"Right, enjoy ... enjoy the ride." You began lifting your shirt over your head, watching yourself in the full-length mirror the whole time. Kicking yourself for wearing such a shitty bra (but really what else were you going to do? Wear your best one only for it to get ruined with blood and ink? No. Absolutely not.)

You put your clothes on the extra stool in the corner and wrapped your arms over your chest waiting for his next instructions.

"It's ... heh ... you gonna enjoy the ride or do I have to tat you up while you're standing by the wall? Come on, I'm gentle, I promise.

"Yes! Right right right. Sorry. I'm just a little shy I guess."

I've tattooed much stranger things than tits, trust me. Now sit down."

You moved to sit on the tattoo chair and leaned back. The cool leather made you shiver. Draken placed a paper towel on your chest and told you to relax. He leaned over you to grab the ink and needles. He was so close you could smell him. He smelled like leather, cologne and cigarettes. It made you feel high, breathing him in like that.

He pressed the needle into your skin, making you wince in pain. He pulled away for a second to apply more ink and then went back to work.

After a while, he was about halfway done with the outline. "You doin' ok, y/n? Needa break or anything?" You had zoned out so much that he had to nudge your arm to get your full attention. "Hey! You good?" He laughed.

"Oh shit. Yeah, I guess I just kinda got into a trance. You're very ... rhythmic. It's oddly soothing." You blushed.

"Told you I was good." He beamed. "So you want me to keep going?"

You nodded and put your arms back to your sides where they'd been.

"For this next part, I need you to put your arms above your head. Can you hold them there for a while while I work on the underside of your chest?"

"How long are we talkin' here? 30 minutes? 45?" You couldn't read his face because you didn't know him well enough to. But the look he had was less than comforting.

"Ish? I don't know, honestly. But it's going to be a while. I have a lot of detail to do here. Look, don't ask. Ok? But I can - *aheh* - fuck. I can tie your arms up if this is going to be a problem?" He made a point to look away when he suggested that to you.

And good thing too because the expression that washed over your face would have embarrassed a porn director. You're so proud of yourself for not moaning at the offer.

"YES! Yes. My arms get tired easily. Tie me up, Draken." Your eyes fell to his crotch and the bulge that was presenting itself was nothing short of delicious. You don't know what came over you but you let them roam the length of his chest and met his gaze.

He walked over to a cabinet in the corner and grabbed a few ties. "Which one do you want?" he asked, holding up a few options. You pointed to a soft-looking black one and he tied your arms above the chair. "How's that? Not too tight?"

You shook your head. "No, it's good. Just tight enough." He walked back over to the counter to get the ink and needle ready again. And you know he adjusted his dick. You've seen enough men do that to know what that little dance looks like.

He pressed the needle back into your skin and started on the underside of your tits. He was close enough that you could hear his breath hitch every time he accidentally touched your nipple. And you were certain he was doing it on purpose.

You don't know if it was the drilling of the needle into one of the most sensitive expanses of your body, if it was Draken being so close to you that he could stick his tongue out and flick your nipple with the tip of it. His shallow, labored breathing. His big hands doing such delicate work. But you were getting so fucking wet. And you couldn't help but imagine him sticking his fingers into you. Fucking you with them.

"You're um, doing great. Almost done with this side, are you hot? Do you want some water or something? Want me to crack the window?" he said, breaking the silence.

You nodded, not sure how to respond. "No, I'm uh, I'm doing great, thanks."

He walked over to the window and opened it just a sliver. The air was still warm but it was better than before.

"Thank you." You sighed.

"You're welcome. It's fuckin' hotter than hell in here." He took off his jacket and tossed it over onto your clothes.

You couldn't help but stare at the way his arm muscles flexed as he moved. The tattoos on his right bicep were beautiful and you wanted to trace every inch of them with your tongue.

"SO!" He shouted, startling even himself, he pulled the gun away from you. "Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that so loud." His cheeks were burning. You wanted to reach out and smooth your fingers over his face. You wanted to sit on it. But that's just crazy, you thought. Draken continued, much quieter this time, "You got a boyfriend? Or ... or girlfriend. Sorry. I forget about that shit sometimes." He chuckled.

"Nope, no boyfriend. No girlfriend either." You said, looking down at his crotch again. You were so horny you could hardly stand it. "So, just me, my shitty bra, and my soon-to-be tatted tits."

He laughed and leaned over you to start on the other side. He was close enough that his breath was hot on your ear. You closed your eyes and let yourself just enjoy the feeling of his weight pressing against you. You were so close that you could have turned your head and kissed him.

But he beat you to it. He stopped what he was doing, sitting the gun down on the tray next to him and he trailed his fingers up over your belly. Lifting them up long enough to skip over your freshly inked skin and he put them down at your collarbone, skimming them to your chin and tilting your face toward him. You tried to put your arms around his neck but you forgot you were all tied up. Literally.

He smiled at the new light of this situation. "You're tied up." Draken's demeanor changed.

You looked into his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"You wanna be free or do you like it?" He said, tracing his fingers up and down your jawline.

"I like it." You blushed. "But I can't touch you. And that's kinda bumming me out." You laughed.

He leaned back, grabbed the scissors from the counter, and cut the ties, but he left them around your wrists. "You wanna touch me, y/n? You wanna play with my hair? My dick?"

You nodded and reached down to his pants. You cupped your hand around his bulge and squeezed it lightly. He moaned and you loved the sound of his voice. "I wanna do so much more than that, Draken. But … am I crazy for wanting this?" You laughed.

"Oh, you're definitely crazy, baby. An' that's just how I like it." He pushed you back against the chair and softly wrapped his lips around your pointed nipple and dragged his tongue over it.

You shifted in the seat and let out a small whimper. "Fuck that feels so good. I don't know if it's because you've been drilling on me all day or if I just really - I really want you, Draken." You pulled on his hair and he moaned again. He moved his hand up your leg and slipped it into your jeans, feeling how wet you were.

"Well, I guess I was right about something today, huh?" He laughed and unbuttoned your pants. He pulled them down just enough so he could get his fingers inside of you. "You wanna fuck me, y/n? Right here in my booth? You gonna let me fill you up - make you cum all over my cock."

You nodded, unable to form words.

He pulled his fingers out of you and unzipped his pants, pulling them down and sitting back on the edge of the table. He stroked himself a few times and looked back at you. "C'mon kitten, need this dick?"

You sat up and straddled him, holding your weight up enough so that he could slide himself into you. You let out a low moan as he filled you up, your pussy clenching around him. "Holy shit, you feel so fucking good," you moaned. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your breath all but stopped it's exchange with the space around you.

He started to move his hips and you rode him, rolling them and bouncing up and down on his cock. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, feeling him moan into your mouth. His hands were at your waist, guiding you up and down and you felt so fucking good.

"Fuck, y/n, arch your back, stick your tits up, wan' 'em in my mouth." He said, his voice muffled by your chest. You leaned back, he pushed your breasts together and he latched onto them. Massaging them, sucking and biting on your nipples. You felt like you were in a dream, your body humming with pleasure and pain from the abused inches of your skin.

You slowed your movements to feel him better. His cock was hot and dragging against your walls so perfectly that you almost didn't want to cum. You didn't want this to ever stop. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and he moaned, his body tensing up as he came inside of you.

"Fuck, y/n, cum for me, cum all over this dick, baby." He moaned as you ground your hips against his, rubbing your clit against his abdomen. You let yourself go, your body tightening and releasing with the orgasm that washed over you.

You breathed heavily and leaned forward to rest your head on his shoulder. "Wow, Draken. I ... that was..." you trailed off.

He laughed, "It was, huh?"

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah. It was. But I really like your work." 

Your work? You thought. Why did you say that.

"My 'work'? That's what you like? Heh, well, I'm glad?" He chuckled, shaking his head softly. "I'd say the same for you but, I think that'd be weird since I just fucked you and you're still sitting on my dick." He pushed your hair away from your face and kissed you gently on the forehead. "But, you know, I do like your ‘work’, too. It's beautiful. And you're beautiful. And I can't wait to see the finished product." He said, smiling.

You smiled back and leaned in to kiss him again, this time on the lips. "Me too. I'm excited to see it." You blushed and slowly lifted yourself off of him, wincing as he slipped out of you. "God. I hate this part." You pouted.

"Me too, but I think I can make it better. I wanna take you out, y/n. Let me take you out?" He asked, getting up to put his pants back on.

You nodded, smiling. "I'd love that." You grabbed your bra and shirt and held them against your chest as you watched him walk back to the sink and start washing his hands.

"Deal. We should wait a few days after your tattoo has healed up before we go out. Don't wanna get it infected or anything." He laughed, drying his hands on a paper towel.

You laughed too and nodded in agreement. "Sounds good. I guess that gives me time to plan what I'm gonna do next." 

“Do next?” he asked zipping his black jeans and fastening his belt.

“Tattoo ideas … orrr …?” He spun you around by your shoulders and tipped your face up with his fingers.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve got more ideas.” You turned your back to him and he helped you fasten your bra around the wrapping.

“Would you laugh if I said both?” 

“No. I wouldn’t laugh. I’d say ‘when’?”