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atl4ntxc · 1 year

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“ 𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐭ú . ”

— how they confess.

RIDDLE ROSEHEART will make sure everything goes perfectly. this is his big day! he wants to impress you, he wants to see your awed face. he is willing to collar anybody that dares to go against his plan. nothing will ruin it, this is his moment. first, he would invite you to an unbirthday tea party, just you and him. then, he would spend the whole evening with you before gulping down his anxiety and confessing. “i’m in love with you, prefect.”

baking will always be TREY CLOVER’S speciality. he goes along the flow, waiting to get signals from you. how does he confess? he confessed by leaving a box of homemade truffles on your bed, a sticky note attached to it. “i like you, [name]. be mine? yes or no?” you couldn’t help but swoon, a delicate hue decorating your face. you took out your phone and ticked ‘yes’ on the paper, sending a picture of the truffles and note you received with the answer.

CATER DIAMOND confesses through text. although he feels like it’s one-sided, he couldn’t help but notice the mixed signals you give him. do you like him or not?! so one day, he texted you out of the blue “i like you! no— i love you!”. you just got out of the shower and was drying your hair before receiving a notification from cater. a soft smile appeared on your lips as you texted back at him, “i love you too. where do you want to meet up? <3 :)”

it’ll take a millenia to get ACE TRAPPOLA to admit his feelings for you. nah, he likes you, but not like that. right? he is so stubborn. literally everybody can see the way he flutters his eyelashes at you 🙄 though one fateful night, the both of you were stargazing— you rambling your thoughts away. “i like to travel” “i like you.” silence overlapped the atmosphere before you looked at him, confused. “you like me?” he realized he couldn’t sugarcoat it anymore. “you’re an idiot— of course i like you. you’re so smart yet so dumb AND dense!”

DEUCE SPADE is so conflicted. should he confess or should he not? what happens if he ruins your friendship? agh, it’s so frustrating! he just wants to hold your face and kiss every part of your features! why must you be so complicated? he asks his mother, now this is where it led him. deuce at your doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers while wearing a suit with his hair slicked back and a nervous smile. “deuce?” you stared at him then at the flowers. “[name], i like— no, i love you a lot! will you go out with me?” he trembles.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR is too lazy to set up a whole ass plan for this. yeah, he likes you, he admits— but he’s just gonna go with the flow, relaxing while letting fate do this for him. it’s obvious to everyone that this lion has the feels for you— i mean... he only uses you (and only you) as a pillow, cuddle buddy AND he lets you scratch his ears?? fuck yeah he likes u. if you haven’t taken the hint, you’re either really dense or really dumb. “leona, do you like me?” he snuggles into your shoulder and growls. “you just noticed?”

RUGGIE BUCCHI honestly doesn’t know what to do. i mean... he does like you, but he doesn’t know how to approach you. screw that, he’s 100% sure he’s in love with you. he isn’t an expert in the romance field, what do you expect? so, there’s only one way he confesses. asking you out on a date when he thought he was gonna die during leona’s overblot :D isn’t that so romantic? “hey prefect, if we survive this, wanna go out?” “ruggie what the fuck”

what the hell is that. JACK HOWL is the dense one here, not you. yes, his heart beats at an abnormal pace whenever you’re near, yes he misses you whenever you are not near him but nah, he thinks that it’s normal for friends to feel that way. this fr made epel hit his head and tell him that no, it is not friendship. that’s legit a crush!! now that’s when he realized he likes you. yeah once he realizes he just goes up to you and says “prefect, i like you”

AZUL ASHENGROTTO plans literally everything out. unlike riddle, his doesn’t go as plan. everything went wrong and he is about to lose his absolute shit. why must he be so unlucky? jade is putting his hand on floyd’s mouth so he doesn’t burst out laughing. just as he was about to ask you to meet him, the first years dragged you away to create another batch of chaos that are legit nightmare fuel. now at the end of the day, he’s sick of everything and with a fake smile, drags you away from these goons you call friends. “this took me all day. i will not let them steal you away this time. i like you, prefect.”

the moment JADE LEECH realizes his feelings for you, his eyes would never leave your form. it becomes a whole ass mission to find out whether you like him back or not, and it wasn’t difficult for him to decipher your feelings. oh dear, what’s this? you’re getting flustered over simple things that he does. this truly amuses him, and he enjoys every second of it. he holds your hand and gave a gentle kiss on top of it, a teasing grin on his face. “prefect, would you be mine?” JADE>>>>

FLOYD LEECH is a pain in the ass. once he realizes that he’s in love with you, he’s glued to your hip 24/7, it’s not even funny. he always say “i love you”. those words are always leaving his mouth. you might take it as a joke, but he is not joking at all. now, on a particular day, he wasn’t feeling it. so you know what he did? “floyd?” he kabedon’d you. “listen, shrimpy! i’m sick of you thinking that everything’s a joke! do you want me to squeeze you as hard as i can so that you know that i’m in love with you?”

KALIM AL-ASIM is trying his best, okay? jamil was the one who made him realize that he was in fact, in love with you. when found out, he was dying to tell you his feelings. so, the only solution to that is *drum roll* confessing his undying feelings for you! now how did he confess? inviting you on a carpet ride (pretty cliché, but i agree w/ the fandom) and showing you the true beauty of this world. that moment he realized, nothing could compare to your beauty. “i love you, prefect! i’m falling harder each day!”

love who? yeah, JAMIL VIPER is not confident enough to confess. he believes that you deserve someone better, someone like kalim, not a servant like him. although you like him a lot and he is aware, he couldn’t bring himself to confess. i strongly believe that jamil would try to make you hate him so that you wouldn’t get hurt by him. during his overblot, he banished everyone from scarabia except for you— who he kept by his side. that is when you found out what he actually felt for you. “don’t you dare leave me. i have fallen for you, and you will stay by my side forever— i’ll make sure of it.”

now, VIL SCHOENHEIT couldn’t believe that he would fall for a rotten potato like you! what spell did you cast on him, oh dear prefect? you’ve got him wrapped around your finger like a thread. he is definitely one of the romantic types, preferring to confess face to face. “potato, i can’t help but notice how wonderful you look today.” thanks for calling me a potato, vil. it’s highly unlikely for him to confess, so you’re gonna confess first. then, he would ask you to meet him at pomefiore, he told you to ‘dress nicely’. “finally arrived, prefect? i’ve made reservations, just you and me.”

ROOK HUNT is folding for you. he would appear during the most random times, confessing his undying love for you through poems. “oh, mon trésor—” “rook we are literally about to die” honestly, everyone questions your sanity. he follows you everywhere, sometimes it gets on your nerves. so one day, while sitting under a tree, an arrow was shot right beside you. “I love you, mon trésor. will you do the honours of being mine?” you could only stare at the paper in your hands. what’s your answer, prefect?

believe it or not, EPEL FELMIER would rather dive off a cliff than admit that he wrote love letters for you. love letters? haha what’s that? he’s so in love with you, i’m not joking. he definitely imagine scenarios of him protecting you (prove me wrong LOL). although he is very nervous to confess to you, he needs to man up for the love of his life! and when he gets in front of you to confess, he wastes no time to tell you what he feels... in great detail. this is honestly a great view, seeing epel all flustered and ready to be teased by you and his friends.

IDIA would be caught dead before confessing to you. nothing, absolutely nothing will make him confess to you. so, you will be the one to confess to this guy. he is too nervous for his own good, and would rather die than go through rejection by his long-time crush, aka you. although ortho knows that you like his brother back, idia can't help but feel his anxiety rise each time he feels like confessing. so he goes nope. i'm good 👍. so the big question is, will YOU confess?

it is clear to everyone that MALLEUS DRACONIA has fallen head over heels for you. just the mere mention of your name has got him smiling and feeling all giddy. the confession happened during a night walk with him, and as usual, he can't help but admire you. “child of man, i have something to say.” you turned to look at him and noticed how gentle he looked at you. "what is it, tsunotarou?" he gently cupped your cheek and confessed his undying love for you. his eyes would glimmer with delight once he finishes.

LILIA VANROUGE prefers traditional ways of confessing. he is an old man after all. he tends to scare you a lot just to show that he cares for you. he literally confessed like this: lilia was upside down when he spooked you. with a grin, he handed you a letter that smelled just like him. it makes you think, did he spray his perfume on this letter or something? the envelope itself was very pleasing to look at, a beautiful colour of beige and rose gold wax seal. open it, prefect! what was contained either made your heart flutter or not.

SILVER prefers simple ways to confess. of course, he asks lilia for help. while he had his head in your lap, you placed a flower crown on his head, making him stir awake. “did i wake you, silver? i’m sorry.” his lips curled into a gentle smile, pleasured to wake up by seeing your face. you could only look at his delicate features that were staring up at you. silver closed his eyes to continue his slumber, but before that, he whispered a delicate “i love you.”

SEBEK ZIGVOLT simply yells out what he feels for you. it was quite an odd scenario, him holding on to your shoulders while his face flushed a red hue. the tips of his ears turned pink as he stared at your face, eyebrows furrowed. “sebek??” he gulped his fears away and took a deep breath before confessing his feelings for you. “human! how dare you make me feel such things? you make my heart flutter at each mention of your name, so tell me— what have you done?”

©atl4ntxc 2023 — any type of plagiarization, copying, stealing, reposting or translating without my permission is forbidden.

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months

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Hiii, I have been thinking about Levi so much recently

The way I wanna take Levi down and make him a crying mess and shut him up and have him know that he isn’t aloud to touch the mc… and ofc using a strap on I wanna make that man cry below me and know that he isn’t in control anymore and all his pleasure is up to the mc and if he wants something he better start begging. Sorry I just…I love that man and I wanna see him on his knees begging whimpering and crying, knowing that no one else he’s been with would ever dare treat him like this. Anyways…. :) I wanna call him a pretty boy and a good boy and I wanna kiss his head and give him back hugs and treat him so gently. :) :) how are you Nini?

- 🐼

Hey hey, my Levi loving anon. I’m pretty alright, finally recovered from my cold, but I’ll be a tad more busy the next few months to I’m worried about having to time to write. So I might take a few breaks in the near future

Anyway, hope this suits your taste :D

Dom!reader x sub!leviathan

Warning: pegging (or can be read as a dick), a little breath play, collar, very gentle honestly

“…and stop.” You said, an amused expression on your face. Basically grinning from ear to ear as you sat on the bed, staring at the dirty blond hair of the devil. Levi straddled your lap, his legs spread and on the sides of yours. His back was facing you, and his hands bound in front of him. The male also wore a collar, one of leather and in purple, with a leash attached to it. And you held the leash firmly in your dominant hand.

Right after hearing your words, he sat down still. Gritting his teeth with a hint of defiance, feeling the humiliation take over his body. Your eyes wandered lower, staring at his tense muscles. All the way from his shoulder blades, to his hips and waists, then his bottom. He could feel your stare, how your eyes were scanning him up and down, especially when your gaze lingered around his butt. It didn’t take a genius to guess why you were staring. Lube was dripping down from his entrance onto your lap, and, though it was more difficult to see because he was sitting down entirely, the sight of your dick buried deep inside him.

Levi glanced at your over his shoulder, he bore rebellious intent and frustration. Every time you’d tell him to stop right when he starts getting into it, and it was getting under his skin. With a threatening tone, he voiced his thoughts, “isn’t it boring for you, keep on annoying me like this.” He was still so bold after being forced in such a situation. This was fine with you, teasing him is half the fun after all.

“How could it be boring when I get to tease you like this? Your reactions are cute, you keep trying to threaten me. Shouldn’t it click by now that it doesn’t work?” The glare he gave you just got deadlier, and the blush covering his face also got redder. A bright crimson spreading all the way to his ears while sweat rolled down his forehead. “You are a handful.” Levi mumbled, quickly breaking eye contact out of nowhere.

“The same can be said about you.” You answered, then leaned forward against him, hugging him gently. “A pretty boy like you shouldn’t frown so much.” He heard you whisper, and a shiver ran down his spine. The sudden closeness of you made him feel hot, and how he craved the pleasure you held in your hands. There were other things among those he wished to do, like touching you, holding you in his arms, …kissing you…

“…can I move?” A hesitant voice could be heard admits the gasps, his body felt like he was on fire. Without thinking about it you replied, “no.” His eyebrows twitched at your statement, “what.. why.” You chuckled, and that irritated him, how were you having so much fun when he feels so desperate?

“Levi, that’s not how to ask for something.” Were you implying he has to beg? You? Him? No matter how you looked at him, he was like a defiant kid throwing tantrums left and right. His hips moved slightly, going up a little, then sitting down completely again. You yanked on the leash, causing him to arch his back violently. The collar squeezed around his neck, and he moaned, “..ah-Aahh..”

“I thought I told you not to move?” His shoulders were raised to his ears, and he slumped forwards. It was embarrassing, yet he felt arousal with every of your touch. Why was it like this? Your length inside him only added more fuel to the fire, he wanted to move so badly. His own dick twitched when he felt that chocking sensation, body shuddering from the aftermath.

He didn’t have anything to say to your question, choosing to stay silent. After another minute where he was forced to basically cockwarm you, he looked over his shoulder again. Levi tried to read your expression, hoping he didn’t need to do what he speculated. But reality seems to suggest exactly that. The devil swallowed, taking a deep breath before whispering something inaudible.

“What was that?” You asked, and he pulled a grimace. He pouted, thinking you were messing with him again, and whispered a single word, “please.” Now a smile was tattering your features, hands wrapped around his waist while his back was pressed against your body. “My answer is still no.” You uttered with a teasing tone, your fingertips caressing his back and spine, tracing a line from the top to the bottom.

The sensations overwhelmed him, causing him to yearn for more. Shudders and tingles coursed through his veins, and he frowned out of habit. “You… stop the teasing.. please, i-” he had to take a break, the shame was too much to bear, then he continued, “I want more… please?” You didn’t saw much of his face, but you could imagine what kind of expression he must have pulled. The need and vulnerability could be heard in his voice, a layer of sweat covered his skin.

Once again you hugged him, muttering against his back, “so you can beg if you want to.” He bit his bottom lip at your comment, his heart pounding loudly. Then you praised him, “good boy, you look beautiful when you are obedient.” The male stayed silent, face burning now. Was it pleasure or embarrassment? But he knew he felt good. Everything felt hot and bubbly, he asked you again with a shaking voice, “..can I move, please..?”

You let go of the leash for a moment, hugging him with both hands as you said, “yes.” Watching his muscles relax in your touch, and his breathing becoming more heretic with each passing second. Slowly, he started riding you again, and more sounds of pleasure spilled from his lips. But he stopped abruptly again when he heard you whisper a single sentence, kissing his neck gently as you said, “I love you, Levi.”

#whb #what in hell is bad #sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #sub leviathan #what in hell is bad levi #whb levi #leviathan whb #leviathan what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #sub what in hell is bad #sub whb #🐼 anon

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chococolte · 2 years

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☼ — giving them a collar

+ tugging on its leash

word count. 2.2k

characters included. zhongli, childe, al-haitham

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au shit, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. not proofread we die like rex lapis

zhongli

The moment you hand the collar over, there's only a small pause of silence before Zhongli is already clicking it around his neck.

He doesn't give away his thought process, nor how flustered he is beyond the soft blush decorating his cheeks; but the truth is quite obvious once you know the signs. His small, quick breaths, his downward glance, the slight skip in his step— if Zhongli was in his draconic form, his tail would be wagging behind him. His millenniums of waiting were worth it just for this brief moment of paradise.

Internally, Zhongli's entire body is on fire. His heart feels like it's about to burst, threatening to jump right out of his chest and into your waiting hands. It is only with the self control he's attained as the previous Geo Archon that he manages to reel himself back in— before he further shames himself and caves, dropping to his knees and asking you to clarify; to do even more to him.

Owners give their precious pets collars, no? Which means you're laying claim on him. You're calling him your pet. You're calling him yours. You're saying you own him.

The mere thought makes Zhongli dizzy with bliss. To be yours, he thinks, is the greatest wish of them all. How many can say they have the honor, to have your eyes find them appealing in such a way? None other than him.

Zhongli thinks it's only right. None besides him have devoted half of their lifetimes to worshiping you. Only he has. It makes absolute sense for you to favor him above the rest, find him the best suited for you. The others can cry and beg for your undivided attention, but Zhongli is the only one who deserves it. None of them love you like he does. None of them worship you like he does, until their knees ache and hunger calls. Only he does.

He wears it even when unnecessary. Zhongli happily walks publicly wearing your gift, even when he rests. To take it off would be sacrilege. His god has given him a gift, who is he to refuse? It's with pride that he shows it off. When he particularly misses your presence, he plays with it, reminding himself that it's you who gave it to him.

You have given this to him. He must cherish it.

When you attach a leash, Zhongli feels like passing out. He gulps audibly, a visible warmth enveloping his cheeks. With you so near, he can smell you— to be so close to you leaves Zhongli wanting.

With one final 'click', he's connected to you by the leash in your hand. His pulse quickens underneath his skin, sending a shot of adrenaline though his system. His mind is full of possible scenarios, of the things you could do to him. Will you demand him to kneel before you? Will you call him pretty names, or call him your pet? Zhongli stares at the leash with a frenzied look in his eyes, his entire body shivering with barely restrained rapture.

Zhongli lets out a small involuntary groan when you suddenly tug, jerking him towards you. He bites his tongue as soon as the sound is made, commanding himself to silence. Your laughter engulfs him, and without your order, he falls to his knees, unable to bear standing any longer.

Even just this much leaves him weak, unable to stand. Only able to bow before you. Had it been anyone else, Zhongli would've dared to feel embarrassed, ashamed of himself for acting so unbecoming. But it was you. You were his God. The one he'd give everything up for. If you wish for him to unveil himself, to throw away his dignity and pride— then he would do so without question. Zhongli wouldn't hesitate.

When you pull the leash again, harder this time, Zhongli whines. He doesn't bite his tongue, or try to keep his composure together. He falls into you completely, hoping to drown.

childe

Childe is drooling the moment he realizes what you're asking.

He's imagined being your dog before. Your little pet, who loves you and only you. Your loyal hound, who listens to you so well, obeys your every command— but bites at everyone else's fingers, denying anyone who tries to get close. He's close enough, isn't he? Feral, but tame for you alone.

Childe would happily roll over for you, dirty himself in mud like a fool if it meant getting a smile, even if it was one of pity. Anything to keep your attention on him for a little longer.

He thought that, perhaps, he merely had to prove himself to you. If he did, then surely you would reward him; keep him by your side, even if it meant degrading him. As you hold the collar and motion for him to dip his head forward, he's sure he must've done something right.

Childe's red face is only accented by the red collar. He smiles like a fool, frenzy swirling in his eyes. He barely resists the urge to bury himself in your warmth, staying still like you’ve ordered.

He wears the collar like you've given him the gift of life. He happily shows it off to everyone else, bragging about how he's your favorite. No one else. You've laid such clear ownership on him; no one else can compare to him now. Not even that old man, try as he might.

Childe's always known he was your favorite. He had to be. Though you had that little stint with the Traveler for a while, you eventually came back around. He waited years after his fall to the abyss to feel you again, and so long to finally meet you. Even if you had times where others captured your attention, or moments where you were gone for longer than he'd like— long enough for him to start wondering if you'd left him, again— you still came back. And he'll always come back to you, whimpering like a wounded animal.

Even a single moment of not knowing that you are there to fall back upon is agony.

He grips the collar when anxious, or when he hasn't seen you in too long. He can almost reimagine the scene of you slowly snapping it around his neck, brushing against his hair. Though the sensation is purely in his mind, he still shivers every time he reminiscences.

Childe keeps it on regardless of the time and place. He sleeps with it despite how it digs into his skin. He bathes with it on. He walks into battles with it glistening on his neck without any shame. Only pride. It’s a gift from you, after all. People would kill to breathe near you— and he not only has done that, but you have touched him, and shown him your favor.

He brags to anyone who'll hear it. Even to those who don't want too. Childe grabs them aside and points animatedly to it with such vigor it's daunting. If they try to get a closer look, however, Childe immediately pushes them away. It's his gift. Not theirs. He won't allow anyone else to touch it.

They can look and mourn their chances of ever getting the same treatment— but they can't get their dirty hands near it. Otherwise, he'll tear their arms off. It's his. You gave it to him, not them. What would you think if he let someone else touch your gift?

Giving him a leash only exacerbates his ego. Childe is now firmly in the belief that you constantly want his presence. Otherwise, why would you have given him a leash? Don't you want to walk him around?

He'd follow you anywhere. Even if you were walking him straight to hell, he'd follow like the dog he is.

Tugging on it makes Childe whine like a puppy. He makes a weird, high-pitched sound that's both of pleasure and surprise. He smiles as if he's in heaven, high in Elysium; and with you, he is.

"You're not gonna just stop there, are you?" He looks up at you with dazed, half-lidded eyes. A dopey smile plays at his lips, red painting his cheeks. "Please… I've been good, haven't I?"

al-haitham

Al-Haitham stares at the collar with a pensive expression for longer than he should've.

It's not that he's questioning you, or that he dislikes the idea. It's quite the opposite. Al-Haitham's mind feels like it's bursting with thoughts of the two of you, burning his nerves and senses.

He feels guilty for thinking of you in such a way, but you must want him too, don't you? You're handing him a collar bedazzled with jewels, a latch for a leash attached. You want his mind to fester with ideas, of dirty imaginings— and who is he to deny you?

You must take his silence and contemplativeness as a sign of acceptance, as you motion for him to kneel. Al-Haitham does so without question, without even a conscious thought to aid his movements.

His heart beats against his ribcage furiously when your fingers brush against his neck. The cold leather of the collar licks at the warmth of his skin, and he suppresses a shiver. He can't lose any face— not in front of you.

Even if you already know all there is to know of him, he does not wish to embarrass himself further. You may know what dark, nasty things lie in his soul, but he does not know what you think of them.

Al-Haitham thanks you with a slight tremble to his voice. His eyebrows quiver as he struggles to keep the smile off. He doesn't want you to know how happy he is; how he wants to stare at your gift and note down all of its qualities, to the intricacies of the jewels embedded into the leather to the particular way they shine underneath the sun.

He tries not to let it get to his head. Al-Haitham notices that he's the only one with such a gift from you. The thought makes him dizzy— do you prefer him over the rest? Do you like him more than the others?

It only makes sense, he thinks. Why wouldn't you? The rest are undeserving of you, unworthy to bask in your presence. Al-Haitham does not dare to presume himself worthy of you as you sit above them all, but surely, he is better.

He only takes what you give him, like a good worshiper. He does not dare like the other trash to take more than you've deigned. He only does what you say, like a good acolyte— unlike some of the others who play around with your command, like your word is not sacred and holy. He only loves you, just as you want him too; just as you'd like all of your worshipers to be. Yet, so many hold others in their heart; surely, you noticed his superiorities, and chose him.

Al-Haitham, for the most part, keeps the collar on. He only takes it off when he goes to sleep. As soon as his mind is roused and awake, he's reaching for it again, clicking it around his neck in one swift motion.

He's protective of it, almost to a fault. He wears it in public with no shame, anytime anyone walks over to him, even if they only walked passed him, his first instinct is to grab it and make sure it stays there. It has valuable stones on its surface, which dazzle underneath the sun so beautifully— who wouldn't want to take it from him?

Other acolytes, though he hates calling them that, get the most of his derision. Any comment made on it is immediately met with a harsh response. Whether it be a compliment, or a simple glance at the rather obvious collar on his neck, Al-Haitham is snarling at them with disgust in his eyes.

When you call for him again, Al-Haitham listens immediately. His hands shake when he kneels in front of you, even more so when you ask him to lift his head.

Even after all this time, he still has trouble breathing in your presence. All he wants to do is bask in it; in your warmth, in your light, in your endless love. Yet, it feels as though someone is squeezing his windpipe whenever he's near you. Al-Haitham could only know that you're in the room next to his and still shake.

Seeing the leash by itself makes him want to whimper. He doesn't have it in himself to be ashamed, not when his mind is dazed and muddied by the thought of you tugging him around like he's some pet.

The sharp 'click' of the leash attaching to the collar does little to rouse Al-Haitham to the present. It only serves to further fog his thoughts.

When you tug, he can barely stop himself from whining. A loud whimper bursts from his throat when you do it again, and when you do it hard enough to drag him forward, he groans.

He looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, a rare blush dancing on his cheeks.

"A-Ah, please... don't stop." His voice cracks with need. "Please."

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #sagau #self aware zhongli #sagau zhongli #sagau childe #sagau al haitham #yandere zhongli #yandere childe #yandere al haitham #gender neutral reader

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forlix · 8 months

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𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・710 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・hyunjin x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・domestic fluff, established relationship, just self-indulgent brainrot about hyun's dimples tbh

𝟬𝟵:𝟬𝟮 — When your eyes open, you’re met with a ceiling doused in flaxen sunlight, the foliage outside your window casting oscillating shadows against your bedroom walls. As you blink your drowsiness away, you become aware also of the warm weight on your chest and the hill of tousled hair in your periphery.

You lift your head about an inch off the pillow to take in your current circumstance, and it takes every ounce of will power in you to stifle the sound of delight that bubbles to your lips.

Hyunjin does this thing in his sleep sometimes, where he’ll find a way to sandwich you between him and the mattress (he’s only using his upper half today; his toes are hanging off the edge of the bed), and then attach to you like a sloth to its favorite branch, his arms confined around your waist, his head nestled on top of your collar.

It doesn’t happen often, granted, but it might as well be your birthday whenever it does. He wakes up an embarrassed mess in the face of your glee, and you don’t let him live it down for days afterward. You even have a rotation of jokes for the occasion by now, your favorite being the one where you go, wow, you must really like me, huh? And he answers yes like he’s being held at gunpoint.

Happy birthday to me, you hum.

You gently sweep your fingers through your boyfriend’s unwieldy locks, still soft and scented from his shower last night. The movement causes Hyunjin’s eyelids to twitch, his throat to thrum with a low, weary grunt; and he shifts a little, burying his face in the crook of your neck, flexing his hands where they lay curled against your back.

And then he realizes.

“No,” he whispers, the sound hoarse and horrified.

“Morning, baby,” you coo. “How did you sleep?”

“No," he repeats, this time dragging out the vowel of the word. And he untangles an arm to drag the duvet over his head, burrowing into the cozy material.

Not about to let him escape, you follow suit, only to discover that he has assumed the fetal position beneath the covers. You finally emit the giggle that you’ve been holding back since you woke up.

Cotton falls against the surface of your cheek when you settle into your new position: sort of awkwardly tucked near Hyunjin’s side, your face so close to his that your noses brush together when you try to look at him. The morning light is mostly snuffed by the fabric over your heads, but there’s just enough visibility for you to drink in the rosy coloration of his skin and the rich carob brown of his tired eyes.

“Such a drama queen,” you murmur. Your hands cradle his cheeks and your lips press to the tip of his nose, to which he scrunches up his face in faux disdain. “As if I didn't already know that you're secretly some sort of tree-dweller.”

“You’re so annoying,” Hyunjin replies, absolutely zero conviction in his small, sleep-ridden voice, and you kiss his nose another time, then another. This coaxes a soft, helpless smile to his face, the kind that turns his eyes to little boomerangs and dots dimples on his cheeks like sesame seeds.

“And you—”

You move to kiss said dimples now, your lips moulding against the tender hollows that you so adore. In response, Hyunjin bursts into a peal of bashful laughter, which ironically causes them to disappear.

“—are everything.”

There's a flurry of movement, a flourish of cloth; and then you once again find yourself lying beneath him, except now he is wide awake, and surveying you with such immense affection that you feel like a bowl of gelatin.

He dips down and kisses you, as slowly and sweetly as the pace of the halcyon morning. Raven locks of hair skim your closed eyelids; slender fingers curve over your jaw; the soft sounds of your lips moving together buoy against the underside of the covers.

“Oh, by the way,” you break away to say with a playful lilt, and he preemptively groans because he knows what's coming, "you must really like me."

Hyunjin replaces his mouth upon yours before you can make another sound, his next words nearly unintelligible when they vibrate against you.

"You’re lucky I do."

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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ineylesian · 1 year

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FEVER DREAM.

MIGUEL O’HARA X FEM! READER

— AO3 | EVENT

— WORD COUNT | 1.2k

— WARNINGS | smut, mentions of wounds, fem anatomy used, penetration (f), cumming inside, overstimulation, biting (you see those fangs), blood kink (??), oral asphyxiation, light choking.

— SUMMARY | you often find yourself waiting for miguel to come home.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | posted nothing on my to do list bc ATSV has taken ahold of all of my thoughts. miguel is actually so fine i just had to hop on it

— SPANISH TO ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS ARE BELOW EACH PARAGRAPH.

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

You knew the deal. Nine words spoken in a nonformal contract to you the first time Miguel clawed his way into your apartment, bloodied and bruised.

“I cant promise you I’ll come home, mi alma.”

And you knew the words after that, too.

“… but I can promise you that I will die trying, with you in my thoughts, always.”

That night, he sat you down. Made you swear that you would never get too attached. Being a superhero in New York was a lethal deal, and you had to be prepared for anything— everything. Miguel wouldn’t stand the thought of breaking your heart, at least without warning, so he forced you to seal it, everything you loved about him buried away in the depths of your mind.

Yet, human emotion was the victor concerning the inner workings of your heart. And, when he comes home, every little detail of that contract you made shatters.

Miguel treads the glass of your longing heart with fatigued steps, focused on nothing but the sweet capture of your embrace. You feel as if he is a gift sent from the heavens themselves, gazing upon shades of brown that reflect tawny in the light. The light stubble he grew scratches against your jaw as he draws thick sighs of relief, and you feel as if you’re in a fever dream, hands tiredly fumbling for your belt as you sing your praises of his return.

And still, nights like those are a rarity. The words he uttered to you years ago float through your head like a lost prayer, and you’re left lost in the shadow of his absence.

You often find yourself waiting for Miguel to come home. Through all four seasons, the same spot on the couch awaits you night after night, TV static spitting dull reflections of the world outside as you stare up at the ceiling. Some nights, you wonder if he’s finally met his maker and run short of luck.

You still wait. Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. Just as you’re about to lose hope, he returns, just the same as you remember. Suit roughed up, gashes and cuts adorning his skin. He’s nonchalant to the fact, sultry eyes staring you down— a look that you know is just for you. Your fingers find homage in the roots of your hair, brushing thick, unruly strands from his gaze. A little longer than you remember.

“Qué bueno verte, tesorito.” He mumbles, tracing his teeth against your neck as he picks at your skin. “Te extrañé.”

[“IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU, TREASURE. I’VE MISSED YOU.”]

You hum, eagerly latching around the collar of his suit as he pulls your shirt off. Heat trails along your thighs as his bare hands run along them, dipping his head to kiss you while his index finger loops around your panties. He tastes lightly of cedar and pine, and you smile against his lips as the familiarly of him settles deep within your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you, day and night.” His voice is just above a whisper, fingers dragging along the slick folds of your pussy. “Couldn’t wait to come home and…”

His sentence trails off into a hitch in his throat, blinking slow at the sight of you, practically drooling for him. His fingers swipe lazily at your bud, kicking the rest of his suit off before snaking over you. You’re panting lightly, face tinted in a dusted pink as he strokes his cock, teeth lightly tugging at his lips as he does so.

“Don’t tease me, Miguel.” You complain, softly pinching his arm. “I want you, now.”

He huffs in amusement, lips perking up in a smile.

“You haven’t changed a bit, cariño.”

[“HEART.”]

The shift of his hips is sudden, and you gasp at the sudden intrusion of his cock filling up your hole. A heavy breath escapes you as he struggles to push his way fully inside, hands planted firmly on your sides, head just inches from yours. Sensing your discomfort, Miguel peppers kisses over your lips, seemingly making the way he bullies his way into your walls more bearable.

“So pretty, mi alma.” His words are soft, flowing in both ears as he draws himself back. “Sé que puedes tomarlo, breathe.”

[“MY SOUL. YOU CAN HANDLE IT.”]

You do as he instructs. Tears prick at your eyes as he thrusts in and out of you, cock heavy with lust, dragging against your tight walls. With each slap of his balls against your pussy, you can see Miguel’s gentle nature slowly escape him. His breathing becomes rugged and hot, panting against your neck in rough takes. Tiny beads of sweat collect at the base of his forehead, and he grips the headboard above you to stay grounded.

“Mmh- feels so good Miguel.” You whine, hands clawing at his scalp. “Don’t stop.. please.”

Your words toy with his self control, twisting a knot deep in his abdomen that furrows his eyebrows tightly together. The growl that emerges from his throat is nearly animalistic, and you bite your lips as he lifts your neck up with his nose.

“Need to taste you, por favor.” His words are strained, mouth hanging open to flash the canines rooted into his gums. “I’ll be gentle, ah- I promise.”

[“PLEASE.”]

His pace is unrelenting, in sync with the fangs that sink into your flesh. Miguel moans against your skin, sending a deep vibration to your nerves that makes you squirm. Blood drips from the puncture when he releases himself from you, lifting a thumb to stifle the bleeding.

The taste of your own blood fills your mouth as he kisses you, and you feel a wave of heat flash over your body. Your stomach tightens, and you cry out against his mouth, faintly gasping as he presses down harder on your throat.

It’s all too much— yet not enough. Miguel groans your name, pace stuttering as spurts of cum paint your insides white. His hold on your skin lightens at the feeling of you gushing over his cock, thrusting sloppily against your spent pussy a few more times before pulling out.

He fully snaps back once his dick flops against your stomach, thick strands of hair messily coating his eyes. You pant in synchrony, chests heaving, blood slowly flowing from your cheeks. He looks so pretty like this— glassy eyes fighting to stay open, fangs prodding against his mouth, slightly ajar.

Such a sight reminds you of why you wait for him to come home, no matter how long it takes. After all, you knew what you signed up for, and his return only made you yearn for him further. Never could you imagine putting your life in anyone else’s hands.

You push at him lightly, gesturing to the open wounds on your neck. Miguel scrambles once he sees them, hurriedly returning to you with a large wrap of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Lo siento, cariño.” He mutters, gently sticking a few thick layers of bandaging against your skin. “I should’ve controlled myself, I’m-“

[“I’M SORRY, LOVE.”]

You cut him off by pressing your index finger to his lips, smiling as his mouth slowly falls shut.

“Don’t worry, Miguel. You’ll let me get you back, won’t you?”

#arqhms #arqhmsthirst #arqhmsspring2023 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fanfiction #across the spider verse x reader

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littlesliceofimmortality · 4 days

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JUNE OF DIALTOWN - DAY ONE: PRIDE

[ID: From left to right are Norm, Randy, Oliver, Gingi, and Karen: all from Dialtown. They are all walking down Downtown and wearing various items sporting different LGBTQ+ flags.

Norm has on a progress flag cape, and has a bear flag pattern on his bandana. He is seen visibly sweating in his astronaut suit and cowboy hat, fanning himself with butch flag-colored fan. Her expression is disgruntled.

Randy leans on his arm crutches for support as he walks forward; on his usual jacket are a bisexual pin, a genderqueer pin, and a trans pin. She appears tired but cheerful.

Oliver has his flannel unbuttoned with a tank top underneath, along with shorts. He has a Gilbert Baker rainbow sticker, an aromantic sticker, and objectum sticker on his phone receiver. There are five beads on his fez that make up the colors of the trans flag.

His right hand is in his pocket and his left hand holds a leash, which is attached to a harness on Gingi's back as it crawls on all fours. They both appear content, although Gingi has a more zoned-out expression. Gingi also has on a collar, with the colors of the polyamorous flag and a heart tag.

Karen has on a drawstring backpack, and is smiling as she gives a thumbs up. She has two bracelets on, one with the lesbian flag and the other with a repeating trans flag. Like Oliver, they also wear more summer-y clothing, with short sleeves and shorts.

/End ID.]

#all the flags are described in the ID under the cut ^__^#june of dialtown #henrys art #dialtown #phonegingi #sgt norm allen #oliver swift #randy jade #karen dunn

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jpnriikicore · 1 year

Text

title: bedroom door

word count: 660

paring: spider-man!ethan x tonystarks!daughter/son!reader

author’s note: for @volturi-girl-imagines who asked for a part two for busted !

spider-man climbs through your open window letting you hear the busy noises of the city that never sleeps. "you do know i have a front door, right?" you glanced up at him.

"yeah, but i figured this was more you know, um effective i guess." he stuttered out, as you chuckled turning the next page of your magazine.

he grabs the cigarettes after sex album off the dusty shelve letting 'apocalypse' ring through the bedroom.

all of a sudden he shoots a web that attaches to your waist pulling you closer to him. he raised his hand up to cup your face as he slipped his thumb into your mouth putting pressure on your tongue. you looked up at him with such innocence doe eyes. he slid his thumb out of your warm mouth and dipped his head down to press gentle kisses down your neck as his free hand reached under your dress. his touch was attentive and gentle, afraid you would break at any time as if you was made out of glass.

you push him away lightly with your hands on his chest. "what if my dad barges in again like last time?"

he shoots a web from his webshooter onto your door knob making sure that your father doesn’t interfere with you two again. "that works too."

he grips the back of your thighs as he walks to the nearest wall pushing your back against it. his lips come crashing down on yours. your hands struggle to tug down his spider-man suit once your hands reach to your desired place you tug in desperation. you slide the suit a little below his hips revealing the waist band of his stripped underwear. breaking the messy kiss he dips his head kissing down your neck down to your collarbones. you lean your head to let him have more access.

"your gonna be good for me, yeah?" he asked, breathless.

"yes, sir." you moaned out.

three loud bangs on your bedroom door was enough for the moment to be ruined. "why isn’t this door open?" your father yells out.

the famous spider boy stumbled over to your closet doors tripping over his spider-man suit as he attempted to tug it back up. you quickly tries to fix yourself as you shove him into the closet closing the door. attempting to be normal you hurriedly climb back onto the bed pretending to read a shang-chi comic book. a loud noise was heard when your father finally managed to get the door open.

"sorry, the door has been getting stuck-" you tried to explain with a lame excuse.

"i know he’s in here." her father interrupted, opening the closet door to reveal ethan’s flustered face and dishevel hair.

"oh, okay." you said, sheepishly.

"bug," her father called you the nickname he has been calling you since you was a little kid.

"yeah?" you look up at your father.

"you can’t read a comic book with it upside down." her father said, as he toke ethan by the collar of his spider-man suit escorting him out of your bedroom. you muttered a oh as you noticed that the comic was indeed upside down.

"kid?" your father spoke up, sitting down in the chair he was previously sitting in.

"yeah." ethan replied, stopping in his tracks.

"you love them don’t you?" tony asked, looking up from the stack of papers in front of him.

"y-yeah, i do." ethan replied, feeling heat rushed to his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"don’t hurt them."

"i promise i won’t, sir."

"oh, and they like cheeseburgers buy them some." ethan made a mental note that he should buy cheeseburgers every time he stops by as he walked out of the starks house.

even though tony stark would never admit it out loud he believed that the teenage boy in the spider-man suit would protect his little kid.

#jack champion #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion scream #ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry fic #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x reader #scream imagine #scream iv #gn!reader

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pleasantlyinsincere · 5 months

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BRAVO September 1967 Shortly before his death Brian Epstein admitted to BRAVO-employee Thomas Beyl: The boys are everything to me

His face was white. His grey suit seemed to be too big. His shirt collar was opened widely, the black tie hanging crookedly of his neck. Brian Epstein had met death. He came from his father's funeral. That hot July day I met Brian Epstein for the last time. Six weeks later he was dead. As I was taking the list up to Brian's private office, I was desperately thinking about what to say to him. I knew Brian had been very attached to his father. I knew this loss must have rattled him deeply. There rarely had been a conversation with him, where he didn't mention his 'Daddy'. I didn't feel comfortable in my skin. Even though Brian had promised me once: "Whenever you come to London, come and see me. I'll always have time for you." It had always been like that. But now?

[...] Brian met me at the door. "Hello, Thomas! Do you want something to drink?" That afternoon I met a completely different Brian Epstein. I was startled when I saw him. He seemed broken and like he had aged years. He stood up from his office chair laboriously. He reached his hand out towards me. It was limp, his handshake without strength. "nice to see you, Thomas", he said. "Have you seen the boys? Have they come back relaxed from Greece?" He tried to act as natural and friendly as usual but he was a bad actor. Brian was quiet for a while, then he said: "I know why you came. Nice of you. But let's not talk about it. Please." On Brian's desk stood bottle of whiskey, next to it a glass. It was empty. Absent-mindedly he puffed on his cigarette and regularly his gaze would drift towards a big painting of his father on the wall. I felt out of place and was about to say goodbye when Brian said: "Stay for another moment. I want to tell you about a dream that finally seems to be about to come true. I'm planning a movie with the bullfighter El Cordobes, the dancer Nurejew and the boys. Cardobes and Nurejew have already accepted. I just have to convince the boys of my plan." The big dream was buried with Brian Epstein on 30 August 1967 on the jewish graveyard of Fazackerley, a suburb of Liverpool. Like so many great dreams of Brian Epstein, who had wanted to become an actor - and never became one; who wanted to write plays - and never wrote one; who bought a theater - and never staged one; who loved Mozart and Beethoven - and became manager of a beat group; who looked like a successful stock broker - and was at home on the stage of the pop world.

It was 26 June 1966. BRAVO-Beatles-Blitztournee. 7000 fans are screaming their throats hoarse inside Hamburg's Ernst-Merck-Halle. They are waiting for 'their' Beatles, who had come back to the place their careers had started after four years. It's just minutes before the 'returnees'' concert. A security guard addresses me: "Are you Thomas Beryl? You have to please come outside. There is a young guy in front of the main door, who has been trying to come in for half an hour even though he has no ticket. He claims he is the Beatles famous manager Brian Epstein. He thinks we're stupid." I rip the dressing room door open, calling to the Beatles: "Wait a moment. They aren't letting Brian in." The Beatles double over with laughter. "Once again", chuckles Ringo. John shouts after me: "Tell him he should get a belly befitting of his status, so that people recognize him as a manager!" The 'young guy' was indeed Brian Epstein. During the concert he said to me: "Look at the boys. I have never seen them this happy on stage. It has to be an amazing feeling to return to where you once have started small. That's when you really realize that you've made it. Frankly - I am a bit jealous because I wasn't with the Beatles during their first Hamburg stays." He watched his boys beaming faces - and beamed along with them.

No, Brian Epstein wasn't a typical manager. He preferred to wear suits in muted colors and subtle ties. His luxurious London apartment proved his exquisite taste. Brian loved antiques and chose with great care and knowledge. His appearance was quiet. For a manager he was modest and shy. Brian kept in the background so much, that sometimes the Beatles didn't even realize when he was missing. But still Eppy - as the boys called him - belonged to them as five fingers do on a hand. And Eppy was the thumb. Brian didn't like to hear such words. "No, no", he denied. "I am not the fifth Beatles but the Beatles' number one fan." Similarly he fended off the claim that the Beatles had him to thank for fairy tale career. "The boys would have made it without me", he told me. "At least I have just as much to thank them for as they do me. I'm known as a successful manager and have a big enterprise. But I was only able to do that because four electric boys became my friends."

The boys have a different opinion. John: "Without Brian we would have gotten out of our greasy leather jackets too late and the Queen would have never invited us to her palace. No one but Eppy was ready to help guys like us financially. Without him we would have been stuck in basement pubs. When he proposed to become our manager, we thought he had a screw loose. That's how little we believed in ourselves." George: "It was our luck that the Epstein family shop was so close to the Cavern, else Brian might not have found us. Then it would have been good night, Beatles!" Ringo: "I owe everything to him. Without Eppy I would never have become a Beatle. He was the one who acquired me." Paul: "Without Eppy the Beatles wouldn't exist anymore. There was a lot of truth to the rumors that we were breaking up. We had a few crises within the group. So heavily that we were about to go our separate ways. It was Eppy who repaired the cracks. He was our friend and we trusted him endlessly." The Beatles trustee is dead. His short, hot life ended 27 August 1967. John, Paul, George and Ringo didn't attend his funeral. They respected his biggest wish even after Brian Epstein was dead: He never wanted to be the center of their performance.

#the beatles #brian epstein #articles #translations

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buckyysdoll · 10 months

Text

— 𝟓𝟎𝐬! 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬; 𝐡𝐜𝐬 —

જ⁀➴ — • summary: just little romantic hcs <3; • a/n: i wanna write for my lovee, so i’m starting with this <33 • cw: none? elvis being sweet as sugar, is all ❤︎︎

MAIN MASTERLIST

• buries his face in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort in the scent of your skin

• toys with your hair and winds it round each of his fingers, just adores its sweet softness

• plays with your rings and fingers, and brings your hand to his mouth for a kiss

• sits with a hand on the inside of your thigh and rubs slow circles there with his thumb

• has a hand on the small of your back, or curved round your waist when you’re standing and talking; even more so in public, when surrounded by crowds — as you get used to being as he rises in fame

• hugs you from behind and kisses your neck until you just can’t think straight

• does that, and whispers sweet things in your ear that have you blushing as he just smirks against you, and now you’re decidedly not concentrating on your other conversation — can only feel him

• opens his arms/pats his lap for you to come and sit on it, and then holds you by the waist

• just needs your closeness, is so touchy and affectionate with you — just you, always you. cos after all you’re his girl, and he wants everyone else to know it — and how can’t they, when you’re just like one person? when you’re practically attached at the hip?

• you sit on the counter of his dressing room, and elvis frames his hands on either side of your thighs. he leans like that until he’s almost standing flush against your front, and you wrap your legs round his waist. you kiss and kiss and kiss

• even though he’s meant to be on stage in — goddamn, less than a minute? you bet your ass he can’t think past the feel of your lips on his own

• stands and rubs his hands down your arms to your elbows in soft, soothing strokes — it comforts you both, those sweet little touches, and it’s just like a grounding assurance

• presses soft kisses all over your face, just adoring how you react — letting out little laughs and trying to swat at him, though the last thing you’d ever want is for him to stop

• tucks your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your temple or forehead

• without him needing to ask, you straighten the collar or tie of his suit. he can’t take his eyes off you when you do this, something so goddamn simple yet intimate, too.

• you always sitting in the PRESLEY chair on his movie sets while he’s out doing takes; watching him work from your spot, having cute candid photos taken of your subtle claim as his girl <3

• and why not? it’s your last name, too. or at least it will be, if it isn’t quite yet <3

• wearing his suit jacket over your shirt while he wears the rest of the set, and being photographed backstage with you standing with your arms held around his waist from behind. he turns his head — with that smile — to look at you while he’s still talking with someone, and the photo that’s taken shows his attention isn’t on them anymore, it’s just wholly on you <3

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merchantarthurn · 1 year

Photo

nicholas, quit your job. join my christian ska band

this was conceived as a joke with friends about how midvalley in modern AU would be into ska and then ‘the gung-ho guns as a ska band though. wolfwood has a keytar called the punisher’ ‘and it’s still shaped like the punisher - it’s 4 keyboards’.

obviously there’s others to add - like midvalley’s baeblade gauntlet. and maybe another (metal? rock?) band that’s vash (lead guitar, vocals) and livio (drums) and?? knives (bass) so that wolfwood has somewhere to go when he snaps out of his haze and leaves lmao (maybe he supplants knives as a bass player + backup vocals just to amuse me personally)

(i’ll admit to not knowing anything about ska so i just defaulted to making all the men look “uncool in a way that’s kinda swag in its own right” and elendira that kind of “probably smells of ‘’’incense’’’” vibe. i also could not suss out the instrument refs so i accidentally gave the trumpet too many valves and gave up on the sax lol)

ID below the cut

There are four images - I’ve given each image it’s own ID.

[ID: Wolfwood drawn mostly in black and white - in his usual suit and unbuttoned dress shirt, with mullet-length hair, sunglasses, and a thicker patch of scruff on his chin. He holds a cross-shaped keytar with each branch having it’s own set of keys, with the words ‘Punisher’ and ‘Gung-Ho’ written at the ends. The centre has a skull-like decal shaped like the trigger of the actual Punisher. It’s held by a strap with black-and-white checkers. There are blue accents on the keytar and his shoes. END ID]

[ID: Elendira (Trigun Maximum) drawn mostly in black and white. She wears a black pillbox hat, a choker with a fake nail sticking “through” it and a studded belt. She also wears a black-and-white cropped wrap top with a baggy, hatched jacket overtop with the sleeves rolled. She’s playing a red bass guitar with a nail head at the top and a spike at the bottom. END ID]

[ID: Leonof The Puppetmaster drawn mostly in black and white. He wears a baggy black suit over a yellow shirt with a large collar and a bolo tie, a bowler hat with a wide brim and checkered band, and his usual round glasses. He holds a trumpet, also coloured in yellow. END ID]

[ID: Midvalley the Hornfreak wearing a white suit jacket, pink dress shirt, and baggy pink trousers. The drawing cuts off at the knees. He is passionately playing a saxophone, which is attached to his neck by a cord, so is leaning his torso back. END ID.]

#trigun #trigun maximum #nicholas d wolfwood #midvalley the hornfreak #elendira the crimsonnail #arthur art #captioned

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forpiratereasons · 7 months

Note

Do you think we've seen the last of the red silk? I want to say no, because unlikely things like the letter in the bottle and finding the leathers at the bottom of the sea are things that happened, but is this just wishful thinking

i think we have because the red silk was symbolic of something fairly specific - not just ed's heart, but in watching s2, i think i also see it now as the unattainability of love for ed. we're just not those kind of people.

the red silk is the dream of love. the hope of love. he has only a shred of it, only a hint of something that's not his. stolen. passed to him by his mother, but with a warning attached - not just that they aren't the kind of people for fine things, but that they aren't the kind of people for love. ed's dad was violent, abusive, and likely ed's mum felt trapped by that relationship. that's why ed has to kill him - to free her. the scene with the full moon, you wear fine things well, that's a dream. it's a magical moment, it's a fantasy type of moment, and it's gorgeous and beautiful and important to both ed and stede and i love it - but it's not reality for them. not yet.

ed lets go of the red silk to throw away his dream of ever being loved.

but then!

we have stede dressed in red. he first dresses in the red suit - and that's not quite where stede needs to be, is it? he loves it, and i love it for him, i want stede to be able to embrace his fancy clothes-horse side of him, his silk jackets and so on, but it puts distance between stede and the crew. it's gotta go. but there's middle ground here, and he does keep the red shirt, and that!! that red shirt, that works. it's fancy, it's got a frilly lace collar, and it's enough of an invitation for ed to comment, to catalyze a kiss.

it's real. not a shred of something but an entire thing, a shirt, a wearable thing, a useful thing. ed's heart has come back to him, but this time it's just stede. you don't need the metaphor. it's just stede. that's his heart.

#darcy answers #ofmd #our flag means death #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #i am honestly also mourning a lot of the symbol heavy things we had in s1 #but i realize why it's happening and how it serves the story

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kickingitwithkirk · 2 months

Text

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha Sam

Word Count: 1417

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter

Warnings: A/B/O, non/con elements, dub/con elements, enslavement, pandemic, non/con drug use, collaring/leashing, forced mating, forced breeding, branding, BDSM elements, show-level violence

*Additional warnings to be added

Square filled: @spnabobingo non traditional alpha traits @spnkinkevents free space @j3bingo jewelry/piercing

A/N: * UPDATED 3/24 first three pasts of series

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

PART IV

John read through the contract and had to admit that the Dealer was a stickler for details, continuing to the addendum that the original purchaser sold the O as-is to him for one dollar.

Ignoring the still-fuming Dealer, John signed all three copies before handing them and the payment to an on-site notary who stamped the copies before handing one back to John, one to the suit with their monetary compensation, then disappeared with the last to finish registering the sale.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Winchester,” the suit says as they untether the twin and lead her out of the room. John placed his copy in his canvas jacket pocket and said, “I need the O cleaned up and dressed.” One of the Alphas reached into the cage, attached a cheap dog chain to the D ring on her collar, and used it to drag the O across the floor, dropping it at John's feet as Helms smirked. “Sorry, we would normally comply with your request if it were our merchandise you purchased. You have a nice day, Winchester.”

They left John alone with his newly acquired property. He scooped up the unconscious O and was surprised at how light she felt, made his way through the open dock door of the building and spotted the Impala. When his sons climbed out, John issued orders.

“Dean, get your ass over here and take your property. Sam, front seat with me.”

“There’s a clinic two blocks on the left, sir,” Sam says, climbing back into the Impala, cracking a disposable ice pack, and handing it over the seat to Dean, who places it over the O’s swollen eye. John's thankful it’s a short drive cause the mouth-breathing sounds filling the car were disturbingly similar to that Shtriga he’d hunted.

Sam bolts out the door before John has the car in park, taking several deep breaths before opening the back door and helping Dean maneuver out with the unconscious O.

The quartet enters the clinic, and a bored-looking receptionist slides a clipboard over without looking up, telling them to fill out both sides. They cross to the waiting area where John and Dean sit, automatically leaving the chair between them unoccupied. Sam mentally sighs and pulls his hoodie lower to keep his painfully hard cock hidden, sits, and starts mouth breathing again, making John growl and scribble faster before marching back to the receptionist.

Dean shifts the unresponsive girl, and Sam says in a strained voice, “Dude, she’s flashing everyone!” Dean sees his darting eyes peer down, noting the old army blanket gaped open, exposing the O’s breasts. He can’t help himself. “Look at you, Sammy, blushing like a virgin on her wedding night. So adorable.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Boys,” John interrupted, “Let's go.” Dean closed the blanket, followed him down the hall to an exam room, and placed the O on the table. “Wait outside the door, Dean. You too, Sam.” A while later, smallish, fifty-something Beta with their nose in a file came towards them and finally noticed the two tall Alphas slouching by the doorway. Smelling his unsureness, Dean reassured them, “We don’t bite..usually.”

Clearing their throat, the Beta walked between them when Dean slapped his hand against the wall, creating a loud thwack that made them hurry into the room. “Not funny, man,” Sam chastised but couldn’t help grinning.

John insisted on remaining in the room during the examination, knew how these clinics worked, and wanted to be sure the O had no severe injuries or undisclosed maladies.

“I don’t see your DNA ID on the intake paperwork.”

“DNA? What are you talking about?”

“There have been many fraudulent ownership claims in this state,” the doctor said as he did the exam. “For new registrations, all Alphas in the purchaser's immediate pack must submit their DNA ID number and to STD testing. I assume you were in service?” John affirmed he was. “Good, and your offspring? No? Okay, what state did your Omega whelp them in?” John frowned. “My mate was an Alpha.”

“It’s almost unheard of for a female Alpha to have more than one pregnancy.” The doctor resumed the physical, noting a mild concussion, but her swollen eye was undamaged, and considering the extensive skin trauma, mainly on her back, she likely had bruised ribs, too. “As a precaution, I will administer fluids and a broad-spectrum antibiotic. I need your help with this part. Please move the O to the scale so I can see if its stats match the paperwork.”

The doctor and John, who’d guesstimated her height earlier, were shocked. Most O’s rarely hit five-four, and she was nearly six feet tall but was thirty pounds underweight. John laid the O back on the table, covered her with a warming blanket as the doctor hooked her to the IV, then collected the other samples from Winchesters except for the STD on Sam, who had to admit he was still a virgin. A tech arrived for the samples and handed the doctor some paperwork. “I see you purchased the O for your elder son, who’s not of age yet. Do you require any additional stipulations for registration?”

“I want Sam to have proprietary rights in the event of my untimely death.”

Dean peeks through the register office's doorway and sees a slightly chubby Beta in her late twenties sitting at the desk. She looks up, giving him an apprentice once-over, and chirpily inquires, “You with the O just brought in?" He responds snarkily. “You got a bunch of other O’s that just arrived?" Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “I'm sorry, that was uncalled for.”

She hummed sympathetically and clicked the mouse, searching for something on the computer. "It’s alright. Things like this can be stressful, so I’ll try to get you through quickly. Help yourself to the coffee. It’s hot." Pouring a cup, Dean sipped it and grimaced. "Okay, here we are. Name?"

"Uh, Dean." He sat down, positioning himself to see out into the hallway, and heard the Betas' long nails tacketing-tacketing over the keys. "And will you be changing the name?" "Huh? Why the hell would I want to do that?” The Beta flinches at his tone. "It's a routine question. Some people don’t like the name of the O they’ve purchased, so they shorten or change it entirely.” It took him a second to catch up. “Oh, sorry. I'm Dean, and ahh, I don’t know what her name is." The tacketa-tacketa resumes. “Hmm, the O only has numerical identification. You could pick something neutral or a favorite nickname. How about leaving it for now? If or when you decide to change it, you can do it through any state registration center."

"Uhh, okay, let’s do that."

"No problem. Now, has the O been branded yet?" Dean's hand firmly gripped the edge of the desktop. "What the fuck? That's a regular thing you do here!” Dean's loudness makes the Beta frown; she leans over, opens a side drawer, rifles around, and pulls out a pamphlet, pushing it toward him. Dean frowned at the title: Your New Omega and You: An Alpha's Guide to Handling and Training.

"O branding is the traditional form of marking to deter theft and help with identification. North Dakota is one of a few states that mandate it but all others accept it. A sanctioned clinic, such as ours, uses a local anesthetic, so it’s quick and relatively painless. The unique symbol chosen for the individual owner will be on the lower back to not spoil their aesthetics.” More tacketa-tack-tacketa. ‘We do piercing for free. Are you interested in having the O’s nipples, clitoral hood, or labia done?” Dean shakes his head negatively. “For low-income families, public assistance will generally cover breast augmentation or genital modification since it doesn't interfere with fertility.”

“Now, state law requires that if testing confirms that the O's are a non-viable carrier, we spay them. I am obligated to inform you this procedure can lead to malaise, but it reduces the chances of other diseases as they age. Since you’re not a resident, if you choose not to, we can provide a doctor's exemption certificate.”

“What kind of fucked-up Deliverance-style place is this? I am not authorizing any fucking modifications of any kind, you hear me!” The courteous attitude disappears. "I don’t appreciate your tone, sir,” as she resumed tacketa-tack-tacks on the keyboard. Dean wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he hit something.

Part V

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys

#winchester's folly #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #dystopia #dean x reader x sam #dean x reader #sam x reader #spn au #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #supernatural #alpha dean winchester #alpha sam winchester

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beansprean · 1 year

Text

Queening the Pawn Act 2 Part 6

Act 1

Act 2: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of Nandor, tensed with shoulders up by his ears, grimacing slightly as he peeks one eye open. Offscreen, Guillermo sighs and grumbles "You're such a dick sometimes..." 1b. Reverse shot of Guillermo, body and head turned away from the viewer with one knee up on the couch and his opposite arm propped on the back. 1c. Close up of Nandor, now deeming it safe to open both eyes. He stares at Guillermo's back with apprehension and a complicated longing.

2a. Sepia toned panel showing Nadja and Laszlo in 1920s evening wear standing with arms around each other's waists. Nadja has her free hand on her hip and Laszlo's is in his pocket. They are looking down at Nandor with mixed pity and irritation. Nandor, wearing a fur coat and boots over a striped suit, is sitting on the ground with his legs stretched out and head slumped down, hair covering his face, staring at his open palms in his lap. Past Laszlo says, "This is what happens when you get attached to Familiar's, Nandor. Past Nadja says, "Humans are always temporary, you sweet stupid baby." Nandor talks over them from the present: "Laszlo and Nadja...say I get too attached." 2b. Close up on Guillermo, starting to turn in his seat to look back at Nandor, asking, "What does tha-" Nandor interrupts him from offscreen, snapping, "Turn your head, Guillermo!" 2c. Guillermo obliges, whipping his head back to face the wall with an irritated grumble. 2d. Close up of Nandor. Offscreen, Guillermo repeats, "What does that mean, Nandor?" Nandor stares at his lap, frustrated and embarrassed, replying, "Exactly what I have said!"

3. More sepia toned panels from the past, showing a string of former familiars. The first, an older white redheaded woman in a 1690s dress and hat, smiling politely at the viewer, saying "Oh, you're here. Has it really been so long?" The second, a white man with a neat goatee in a Victorian suit and tails, tipping his top hat down over his eyes with a fanged smile, saying "See ya, Mas- Nandor." The third, a plump young brown woman in a 1910s suitcoat, hat, and pearls, smiling beseechingly upward with newly minted fangs and saying "I promise I will write." The fourth is a young Benji in a loud 70s patterned shirt, polishing Nandor's white platform boogie boots with a faraway smile. He declares, "And when I'm a vampire, I'm finally gonna get out of Staten Island!" The fifth is a black woman wearing 90s overalls with long relaxed hair under a bandana, laughing uncomfortably and waving her hand dismissively at the viewer. She says, "Oh, haha, noooo. I mean, this place is great and all, but there's so much I want to do!" Nandor's voice from the present continues: "I get attached to these humans and I like them and... They never want to stick around!"

4a. A sepia toned Nandor from the past, reaching a hand out toward the viewer and saying, "I think you are deserving of a reward..." Nandor's voiceover from the present continues, the speech bubble eclipsing past Nandor's face: "So... I decided to just erase myself from their minds." 4b. Close up of Guillermo, face still turned toward the wall but clearly listening as Nandor continues, "I send them back to their lives before me and find a new familiar and decide to forget about them..." 4c. Reverse shot of Nandor, slumping forward in his chair, with a self depreciating grimace, eyes closed. He finishes his sentence: "...before I am to be getting so pathetic about it." 4d. Close up of Nandor in profile as he opens his eyes to stare at the floor, saying, "But...you..." He furrows his brow, trying to organize his thoughts. A flash of Guillermo from ten years ago flashes behind him, opening his collar and promising forever with a smile. 4e. Shot of Nandor from the front, hands folded together awkwardly in his lap. He looks up with large vulnerable eyes, still tense across his shoulders, as Guillermo finishes for him: "I was going to stay." 4f. Reverse shot of Guillermo on the couch, still turned away, his hand picking thoughtfully at the tassels on one of the many throw pillows. Offscreen, Nandor hesitantly responds, "...Yes." /end ID

#wwdits #queening the pawn #nandermo #mlm #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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yeeehwa · 1 year

Text

Turbulence (Part One)

pairing: ot8 x fem reader

genre: smut, fluff, angst

warnings: language

word count: 3k

summary: Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Little do you know the hold 8 men will have on you, and the turbulence you'll face.

a/n: this is my first attempt at an ot8 fic ever. I have a lot planned out and have had this idea in my head for a while. hoping people enjoy as much as I do <3

Turbulence has been put on permanent hiatus

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

6:00 AM your alarm clock glared at you. You stared back at it, wishing that you could either sleep, or that time could go faster. You were anxious about the news today would bring. You either got your dream job or your hopes would be crushed once again, as another rejection would inevitably do.

You yawned and wiped a hand over your face. You were tired, but you hadn’t slept at all the night before. Mind too busy to let you sleep and body too tense. Might as well get up you thought. You stretched, your back popping a few times as the tension slowly left your body. You sighed, stood up, and tried your hardest not to disturb your dog. It was too late though, as he had heard you shuffling around and woke up, a yawn coming from him as he looked at you with sleepy eyes.

“You don’t have to get up, you know.” You say to him, as if he knows what you’re saying.

He looked at you, daring you to lift yourself off your bed, knowing full well he would follow you. “I thought shibas were supposed to be independent,” you muttered to yourself as you stood up, him following your lead.

Groggily, you rubbed your eyes as you padded through your studio apartment, the shock of the cold tile floors and the cool air of you opening your refrigerator shocking you awake. You grabbed a yogurt and a water bottle, deciding to keep your breakfast today light. You grabbed a banana as well as you walked to your window.

The streets of New York City were already busy as commuters started their walk to work, or tried to get a run in before they started their work days. Kids and teenagers with backpacks on started to slowly sprinkle onto the streets as well. The loud honking of taxis faded to the background as your phone buzzed from your desk.

You eyed your phone wearily as it buzzed again. Your heartbeat quickened as anxiety started taking a hold of you again. It could be the rejection email you were expecting, or a shocking acceptance. You slowly walked over and read the notifications. It was just a spam of texts from your best friend Mina. You sighed in relief, as another small flurry of messages popped up.

Min Min: Our spot

Min Min: 1 hour

Min Min: Good news

Min Min: Bring Major <3

You smiled down at your phone as you hurriedly ate your food and chugged your water, your worries forgotten for a moment as you struggled into your sky blue leggings and matching top. You slapped on your bluetooth watch, shoved your phone in your bag and grabbed Majors leash from the rack by your door.

“Wanna go see Mina?” You asked him as he excitedly hurried towards you. He loved walks, and loved seeing Mina even more. He excitedly wiggled as you attached his leash to the collar and turned off the lights as you opened the door. Major excitedly tugged at his restraint as you struggled to lock your door behind you.

You didn’t even make it a few steps out the front of your apartment building when Major was able to escape from his collar. “No! Major! Come back!” you yelled after him as he ran down the bustling streets. His leash was clutched in your hand as you sprinted after him.

People you passed on the streets looked at you in annoyance as you ran down the street after him. Some stopped to coo at him, others, noticing you running after him and yelling with the leash in your grapes, tried to get his attention. They all failed, your dogs attention fully on whatever happened to catch his attention. One man, dressed in a three piece Prada suit tried to hook his arms around him when Major stopped for a second. The man missed, Major jumping out of the way fast enough, and the man fell into a puddle of dirty rain water.

“Sorry!” You yelled at him over your shoulder as you ran past. “Major!” You yelled at him again as he stopped at a group of eight men. They were all bundled up in winter gear with black face masks covering their lower faces. Major jumped up on his hind legs, begging for the Five Guys that one of them was carrying.

“I am so sorry!” You rushed to apologize. “Down Major!” You scolded as he kept jumping, jaws now snapping towards the food. His front paws got all the men dirty as he jumped, especially the tall one who wore a long white trench coat. You knelt down and tried to get him to sit still long enough to get the collar back on him. He kept squirming in your grasp and trying to go for the food.

The men all looked down at you. Even though their mouths were covered, their eyes showed how much they were smiling. Your dog and his antics being the pick-me-up they so desperately needed that day.

“It’s okay,” a heavily accented voice came from one of them. You didn’t look at him, more focused on getting your dogs collar back on.

“He’s very cute,” one of the men said, kneeling down next to you. “Can I pet him?”

“Oh yes of course!” You secured his collar around his neck and fed him a little room with the leash, but making sure he didn’t have enough to jump anymore.

“What’s his name?” Another one of them asked. They all slowly kneeled down and held their hands out to Major, letting him take his time to sniff them and get comfortable enough to let them pet him.

People muttered as you all blocked the sidewalk, causing them to squeeze between your group and the windows of the shops or walk onto the street. The man who fell into a puddle earlier made his way past you, a nasty look on his face. “Keep that damn dog under control.” He said to you as he walked past.

Your anger flared. “My dog is perfectly well behaved you fuckwit!” You stood up and acted like you were about to jump the guy, when he quickened his pace and walked away.

Ateez shared looks with each other as they watched your little interaction. They were amused more than anything, especially Hongjoong. No one but the people closest to them knew, but he had a mouth like a pirate.

You turned back around, momentarily forgetting you had an audience. “Fucking jerkoff” you said to yourself. You blushed as you met eyes with them, momentarily forgetting that you had an audience. “I’m so sorry. I-”

“Don’t worry about it.” You were cut off by the man in the trench coat. “You should hear how Joong talks.” He teased and knocked his shoulder playfully into the smaller man next to him. He was met with a sharp look.

“Right. What were you saying? Before that man so rudely interrupted?”

“His name?” said the man who wore a black crocheted hat that gave you the impression of a boba ball.

“Major.” When hearing his name, he walked over to you and pressed his body into your legs.

“He’s very cute,” Boba ball, as you so affectionately nicknamed him, said.

“Thank you. Don’t tell him that though. It’ll go straight to his head.” You giggled and leaned down to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“What kind of dog is he?” Cat-like eyes peered up at you under the bill of a Yankees hat.

“Oh he is a Shiba Inu. Bread as a hunter, but the only thing he’s good at hunting for is food. As you can tell. He attempted to steal your burgers!” You laughed as Major perked up at the word food.

Some of the men chuckled, noticing his reaction to the word. “How old?” The man with the bright red hair asked.

“He’s 4,” you smiled. Major was sitting there, letting each man slowly pet his thick coat and giving him great scratches. You could tell he was enjoying all the attention. “Where are you guys from? Your accents are different.” The smile on your face widened when they started looking at each other in confusion.

“South Korea,” said the black haired one with a beanie on. The others looked at him sharply, then back at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Oh! That’s amazing! I might be moving there for a new job in a few weeks!” Your excitement showed as your smile widened even more. “I’m really excited. I hope I get it!” You blushed, remembering that they were strangers and didn’t care about your life. “My Korean isn’t the best though. Even though I studied it in college. Just haven’t been able to use it much so I lost a lot of it.” You rambled on.

Your watch picked that moment to buzz on your wrist. You glanced at it, reading the notification that popped up, and back at Major. “I’m sorry. We need to get going. It was nice to meet you guys!” You stood, and directed Major in front of you. “Come on boy. We’re supposed to see Mina!” You waved and said goodbye once again, they all thanked you, and you had to tug on Majors leash a few times to get him moving. You put your earbuds in your ears, pressed a few buttons on your watch, and started your run.

A screech pierced through your earbuds as you approached A Shot of Espresso Cafe. It was Mina and yours spot since you met in elementary school. A woman with long brown hair in a pantsuit, hat and fluffy jacket stood outside, waving at you like a madman. “Y/N!” She called out to you.

You smiled as you slowed down, Major whining and still pulling you forward, curly tail wagging in excitement. “Mina! I didn’t realize you were in town!” A huge grin spread on your face as you hugged your best friend close.

Major, still whining, jumped onto Mina, happily nipping and licking at her hands. She giggled and bent down to give him some love too. “You remember that job I got in Korea? I’m in town for that. I had some free time and thought I’d come and say hi, and deliver some good news.” She giggled as Major licked her nose. “Major, don’t worry. I could never forget about you!” She fished in her purse and pulled out a dog treat, which he happily devoured.

“That’s so great! I wish I had known!” You smiled as you both took a seat on the cold metal chairs that the cafe offered as outdoor seating. You sighed in relief as the feel of a space heater hit your cold face.

“So tell me about your job!I know a lot of it has to be all hush hush and stuff, but what can you tell me?” Your eyes sparkled as you asked, excited to have the potential to be moving close to your best friend again.

“Well. As you know, I was interning as a manager for a kpop group at KQ Entertainment. I got a promotion! So now I’m like a co-manager. I was the one who took the group to America for their tour, which is why I’m home for a few days.” Her voice got lower as a cafe worker came over to take your orders and pet Major, who was just laying in a lump by your feet.

“Oh my God! Congratulations on your promotion! I’m so proud of you Mina! You really deserve it.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You genuinely were so happy for your friend, but also a little disappointed that your chosen career hasn’t taken off yet.

“That’s not even my good news!” She was basically vibrating in her seat in excitement. “You know that application you put in as a stylist for KQ? Well, I put in a good word for you.” She paused for dramatic effect. “You got the job! They want you to start ASAP!” Her smile grew as you looked at her in shock.

“I. . .I got the job?” You were almost speechless. You didn’t have that impressive of a resume, and you assumed you’d get rejected. “Are you serious?”

She vigorously nodded as she grabbed her purse by her feet. Out came a file, with your name on it. “This is all the paperwork you need. Information about the groups and soloists you’ll be working with. Also a NDA. That’s the most important thing.” She gently put it in your hands as you stared at her wide eyed.

“You’re not pranking me, right?” You hesitantly took the file and slowly opened it. The front page showed “KQ Entertainment Employee Contract” with their logo on it. You gasped. Your dreams were finally coming true.

“I can’t bel-” the look on Minas face as you looked up, made you stop. “Is everything alright?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at her phone screen. She sighed. “As much as I wanted to celebrate with you, I have to go. These stupid men got themselves some groupies.” She grimaced, and slapped a $20 bill on the table. “I’m sorry Y/N. I’ll call you!” She grabbed her purse and hurriedly walked down the street, phone to her ear and speaking in rapid Korean. You heard something about a van and something called an Atiny?

You sighed, not letting yourself get sad over Mina having to leave. Instead, you focused on the little file in your hand. You hugged it to your chest and felt a smile slowly cross your face.

“Major?” He perked up at the sound of his name. “Are you ready to go to Korea?” He laid his head back down, disinterested that you weren’t giving him food. You rolled your eyes at him. “Good. Cause you don’t have a choice.”

***

“This better be good Kim Hongjoong!” Mina scolded as the members of Ateez slowly fought the crowd of Atinys that had followed them to the Starbucks. They all sheepishly made their way into the van, giving Mina a slight bow as they entered.

“Sorry Noona,” Hongjoong addressed her. He had the sense to look guilty at interrupting her plans. “We thought we were concealed enough.”

“WOOYOUNG DIDN’T HIDE THE RED HAIR, YET YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE HIDDEN ENOUGH?!” Mina sighed in exasperation and slight anger. She punched the bridge of her nose and counted to ten before speaking again. “I haven’t been home in a year. I haven’t seen my best friend in over a year. And the one opportunity I had to see her, I had five minutes before you idiots got spotted.” She sighed again. “You’re lucky I love you all or else I’d be really mad.”

The smug smirk on Wooyoung's face made her want to slap it off of him. “Let’s just. Go back to the hotel. Okay?” She waved her hand towards the driver and turned her back to the group.

After a few minutes of silence, Seonghwa spoke. “We’re really sorry noona. We-“

“It’s fine.” She waved away his apology. “She’s moving to Korea soon anyway. Probably with me for a while.”

The boys eyes widened as they processed the information. An echo of them all asking “she is?” Went around the van.

“Yes. She’s the new stylist. She’ll be working with KQ Fellaz 2 for a while. Until the superiors get a sense of what she can do.” The van pulled into the parking garage of the hotel, and Mina got out first. She opened the sliding door of the van for the members and ushered them inside.

“What does that mean about our movie nights?” San pouted as he pushed his cap down more, covering his eyes the best he could.

Yeosang rolled his eyes at the younger member and laughed. “We haven’t done those in so long. Why does it matter?”

“You know,” Mina shuffled all of them into the tiny elevator. She pressed the button to the 18th floor. “She was the one who suggested that I start those so I could bond with you guys more.”

More wide eyes and silence followed. “She’s smart.” Jongho impatiently tapped his foot as the elevator stopped.

“Yeah well. She’s the one who pushed me to go for this job in the first place. Look what happened. Now I have you losers in my life.”

Wooyoung and San pouted at the affectionate nickname. “We’re not losers!” They whined.

Jongho shouldered them out of the way and started making his way down the hall to his room. Yunho and Mingi on his heels. The rest followed, slowly piling out of the elevator.

Mina chuckled, her eyes shining with affection for the eight men who she’s started to see as her brothers. “It’s said out of love. She’ll be joining us when we start them up again. If all goes according to my plan, she’ll be styling you in less than a month.” Mina smirked. She dug her key out of her purse and smiled back at the boys, who looked at her like fish out of water.

“Good night boys. Seonghwa, don’t forget to go live tonight. Atiny needs content after all. Food will be delivered in an hour.” She paused when she was halfway through the doorway. “And don’t do anything stupid again.” This was directed at Hongjoong.

He ducked his head. “We won’t.” He pouted, flinching a little as Minas door slammed behind her.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes and San stuck his tongue out at the now closed door. Their phones all chimed as a message was sent in their group chat.

Mina Noona: I saw that WooSan. Don’t make me call you in my room like Hongjoong does.

Jongho’s laugher could be heard down the hall from his room as the rest of the group made their way to their respective rooms, grumbles of discontent coming from WooSan, and laugher from the rest of the members.

461 notes · View notes