#an accessory that hides their true form

[stfu-im-thinking-abt-blorbo]

I know I haven't really posted about my GG AU anywhere except,, DeviantArt? but I am beginning to realize that my Guilty Gear self insert oc is just the concept of "What if Sol Badguy was an antagonist in another timeline?"

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS! ── PART THREE.

── content warnings: F!reader, quick mention of Mina, KDF, Ultraman, petnames and first and second parts here!

── word count: 592!

⭑.ᐟ We already know perfectly well that this man wears a necklace that carries his promise ring, right? So, when you wake up in his arms, you can never resist locking your eyes on the significant accessory and sometimes, playing, touching it like a young girl in love. — And, with his eyes half-open, pretending to be asleep, Kenji couldn't hide his smile because he found it so adorable and charming.

⤷ Not to mention the times you find him around the house, roaming the hallways or base, shirtless and highlighting that necklace with the jewelry. — Kenji can't resist teasing you and crossing his finger to your chin, lifting it.

"My eyes are here, my love." — Sato said, catching your engaging and almost fatal gazes on him, with a thin and mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips; you didn't know if you wanted to kiss him or punch him.

⭑.ᐟ Kisses on your forehead is a prime point for Kenji, that's more than a fact; it is something respectable, crucial and valuable. — The feeling of his lips on your temples is precious, it highlights a feeling of protection, security and comfort; something so true. — Like his passion for you.

⤷ When he wakes up, leaves for a press conference, before and after a match, when returning home after a battle or when in need of your affection, Kenji always places a long kiss on your forehead.

⭑.ᐟ Take you for night rides on his motorcycle? This is also crucial for Kenji and something extremely special for you. — After such an exceptional and successive match, guaranteeing remarkable points for the team, Sato couldn't help but celebrate with you; planning multiple locations for the celebration. — Restaurant, some stunning region to admire next to you, among others.

⤷ The main focus is that Kenji likes, or rather loves, making curves, which require more precision, and feeling your arms squeezing, holding with strength and firmness, also with fun, his waist and pressing yourself even more into his body; in addition to your screams mixed with laughter. — He's almost obsessed with doing this. — And Sato doesn't stop doing it on straight lanes, when there aren't many cars around him.

⭑.ᐟ In his locker in the changing room, there is a photo of you, which Kenji had taken, next to a photo of his mother and during every match, he never stops looking at them with dedication and affection, feeling confident for the game. — And, right when Kenji makes peace with his father, he puts up a photo of him too.

⭑.ᐟ Reading the newspapers, watching the news or commenting together on the Kaiju invasions, the conflicts that Ultraman saved and his matches is another routine in yours lives; and that you both consider and appreciate very much, no lies.

⤷ Complaining about certain actions of the KDF, and how this organization simply changed over time, seeing that Ken didn't cause much destruction or get distracted during battles or praise his batting became something, peculiarly, special. — Mina is also included in this.

"And the baseball star, Ken Sato, shined, without many surprises, once again on the field last night, my friends!" — Cried the radio host while broadcasting some of Kenji's moves from yesterday's match. — "Taking the GIANTS to the lead and..."

"I'm so proud." — Your radiant, bright voice warmed Kenji's ears, who smiled with satisfaction and recognition when he heard your words, and raised the mug to his mouth, enjoying the flavor of the coffee. — "My player." — Your lips rested on his cheek, leaving a momentary kiss; pushing the mug away and looking at you, keeping his smile, Sato pressed your lips against his, forming a pleasant and warm kiss.

[sttoru]

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑

⟣ sypnosis. suguru is busy with work and leaves you alone with mimiko and nanako for a bit. when he finally returns, he spends some quality time with the three of you.

⟣ note. just thinkin abt suguru who’s all soft 4 you and his two adopted kids (if i say he’s adopted them, he did shhhhh)

⟣ tags. geto suguru x female reader. pure fluff. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, honey,’, mimiko and nanako play w ur hair & call suguru ‘dad’ because … yes.

“nanako. . ! i’m telling you, that clip looks much better over here.”

“nu-uh, not true, mimiko. looks better over here !”

the sisters argue back and forth, leaving you awkwardly shifting in your seat as you did not know what to do or say in such a situation. your only intention by visiting suguru’s work environment was to see him, but it turned out that your lover was currently unavailable. thus why the two teenagers ended up escorting you to a nearby waiting room.

they promised to keep you entertained until their ‘master’ was done with his meeting. the said entertainment was actually just you being their test subject.

your hair was getting played with, put in multiple hairstyles which they undid if they didn’t like, hair clips randomly landing somewhere on your locks, four hands moving everywhere on your head—nanako and mimiko were having the time of their life playing the hairdresser part. but of course, they wouldn’t be siblings if they didn’t fight over the smallest of disagreements.

their little squabbles went on until a sweet voice cut through the bickering;

“how about we add this here?”

suguru appears out of thin air, leaving all three of you shocked. you felt something being put in your hair, his hands carefully wrapping the object between the strands whilst his eyes looked down at you like you were the only one present in this room.

“are you ladies alright? you seem to be in quite a shock.” the dark-haired man muses, thumb gently grazing against your cheek once he retreats his hand from your face.

the two sisters took a second or two to process suguru’s sudden appearance before the dark-blonde one jumped up to greet him—eyes glimmering as she seemed to instantly forget about you or your hair which she was busy with; “dad ! hi!”

your eyebrows raise in surprise as you hear nanako refer to suguru as her ‘dad’. she usually calls him ‘master geto’ when she’s with you. the same goes for her sister, although she was a bit more reserved;

“hi, we missed you.” mimiko smiled and waved at suguru, walking up to him after her twin did. both sisters look up at suguru expectantly—as if they were waiting for something to happen.

“aw, how sweet,” suguru hums, ruffling their hair, which was probably the ‘thing’ they were waiting on, “i missed my girls too.”

you weren’t forgotten either. suguru bent his head down to leave a soft kiss on your cheek and flashed you a loving smile; “i hope they treated you well while i was away, sweetheart.”

his manner of speaking left your heart beating in your throat, the familiar warmth spreading across your entire chest the moment his lips landed on your skin. any more and you’d be unable to hide your embarrassment.

“they did. they’re the sweetest.” you nod shyly and the sisters immediately turn their head towards suguru once more. this time they were in need of validation. most preferably in the form of verbal compliments or anything close to it.

suguru chuckles. he could recognise that body language from miles away.

“i can always count on you two.” he sighs in content and takes a seat across from you, eyes flickering from one sister to the other, “thank you for taking care of her.”

nanako and mimiko look at each other and giggle to themselves, whispering some things you can’t hear, but you can guess that they’re gushing about getting complimented by their ‘dad’. it was adorable—the dynamic between the two sisters and your lover.

“i don’t know where to look, honey. they sure did go overboard with the accessories.”

suguru comments on the current state of your hair, causing you to turn your attention towards him. he was staring back at you, a charming smile tugging at his lips whilst his hands were searching for yours.

you looked flustered at the sudden remark and laugh sheepishly in response, “yeah, well, they had fun so.. i kinda just let them do whatever.”

suguru hums whilst his eyes take your in beauty. you somehow look even prettier with all those hair clips on. the thing he added was the cherry on top;

“it sure is a pleasant sight.” he murmurs, voice tender and sultry—eyes sharp yet soft, “two flowers creating a harmonious look— how gorgeous.”

you tilt your head at his comment; yes, it made you weak in the knees again, but you tried to unveil the reason behind his use of words. two flowers?

that’s when you notice how his eyes flicker from your face to a specific place on your hair. you detach a hand from his, bringing it up to feel the object suguru put between the clips, only for your skin to come in contact with a soft surface—a thin layer which was nice to the touch.

“over here, sweetheart.”

the voice calling out to you had its desired effect; you turn your head towards it and are surprisingly greeted by your own reflection. suguru held up a small mirror in front of your face, allowing your eyes to finally see the addition to your hair;

a flower. a pretty one. you’d guess it’s some kind of orchid— suguru’s favorite since he’s mentioned before that they reminded him of you.

“thank you, love.” you press your lips together. your eyes were avoidant as expected. suguru knew you didn’t dare look him in the eyes whenever you’re flustered. a habit that makes his love for you grow stronger than ever.

“how cute,” your lover says whilst holding onto your chin, guiding your gaze back to his. his lips form a lovestruck smile once you lock eyes, “don’t ever hide that pretty face from me.”

you could feel it; his fingers that gently tug you towards him, your upper body leaning forward whilst his does the same, the longing growing in both your bodies, your hands searching for a place of stability on his shoulders, his face tilting a bit, lips parting ever so slightly—

“ehem,” a girl’s voice disturbs the romantic scene, making you almost jump out of your seat. it seems like the two of you entirely forgot about the sisters who were still in the room with you. they did want to leave you two alone and escape the space silently, however they also craved attention from suguru at the moment; “we still exist, dad.”

“oh, dear.” suguru chuckles, giving you a quick peck on the forehead instead of the lips like intended, leaving you a bit disappointed. his hand reaches out to gently pinch nanako’s cheek for her interruption; “i have my hands full, hm? come here you two.”

one arm wraps around your waist whilst the other is stretched out as an invitation for a group hug. the two teenagers waste no time and jump into suguru’s embrace, of course, including you in their comfy hug. mimiko’s arm was draped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to their shared warmth—small giggles and noises of content filling the room.

suguru sighs and finally relaxes his body after a stressful morning; the only three people he cares about most now in his arms like desired. he gives nanako and mimiko a kiss on top of their heads, whilst you get your long-waited kiss on your lips. he smiles against your mouth afterwards, pressing his forehead to yours;

“my girls.”

[merakiui]

thinking summer thoughts and the octotrio preferences with bikinis/swimwear,, i feel jade is more of the type of guy to enjoy a more teasingly covered up look,, for example a long skirt that has a slit on each side that is so flowy when wind hits it you need to readjust or else it might reveal something,, or perhaps a backless one-piece that reveals the curvature of your spine,, something just enough to gif him over for later, he doesn’t want the full meal yet

for floyd, i’m thinking jade calls his preference ‘teasingly slutty’ and floyd just throws out the teasing part altogether,, skimpy bikini enjoyer!!! dude wants you wearing the thinnest pieces like IAMGIA level bikini sets,, this is so self indulgent but i love buying from that clothing line, like the tops that are the tiniest triangles and thong bottoms, maybe 🤔 skimpy bottoms with frills he would enjoy

i didn’t have a big epiphany for azul but i was thinking azul might like those waist beads that are silver or blue just for the pearl motif or eye color symbolism,, imagine you going out shopping and holding each waist-bead chain up to his eyes, making sure to get the right color

anyways these are my silly thoughts!!!! 💕💕 kiss

!!!!!!! these are all such delicious thoughts omg... feasting on all of them like it's one big buffet. I so agree,, it's just like Jade to be patient enough for the entire meal. I also think he enjoys using his imagination to fill in the blanks, so he likes things that will feed his thoughts. A peek of your thigh or a sliver of shoulder and collarbone just barely hidden by your outfit/swimwear!!!! I also think he would enjoy elaborate lingerie because he appreciates the imagery and also the delicate nature in which he must slowly peel it from your person, lest he be too rough and tear gentle fabrics in his haste. I think he's a big fan of sundresses, but then maybe that's just because he gets to fantasize about all that's beneath the dress, with such easy access should he wish to sample you.

But I digress!!! Floyd absolutely loves all things skimpy and slutty. The IAMGIA bikini sets........ the way he'd adore you in frills,,, omg YES!!!!!! If he's really feeling it, maybe he can be patient enough to appreciate those long slit skirts and whatnot, but no one in Octavinelle holds a candle to Jade's level of patience. ^^;;; Floyd just likes showing skin and thinks human bodies are such a wonderful, beautiful thing. Why hide that with layers of clothes? Besides, the weather is so hot and humid. Less layers means more relaxation (and less things he has to pry off, but then he's the type of impatient to just slide your swim bottoms to the side and go from there,,,,) but also....... I think he has a soft spot for the types of swimsuits and summer clothes that make you look so cute and soft and !!!!! His cuteness aggression is off the charts as soon as he sees you hehe.

And Azul....... I think anything that has any sort of mer motif (pearls/waist beads as you noted, etc) is going to have him salivating because he likes the symbolism (also,, pretty, shiny things on his pretty darling = very yum in his tako brain hehe). The fact that you could enjoy his culture in the same way he enjoys yours means a lot to him. That, and for someone who is so self-conscious of his true form it warms his heart that you find octo-mers so fascinating and pretty. 🥺 can he marry you on the spot right now!!!!! I think Azul has a thing for sarong skirts. Also a fan of sundresses; he just doesn't realize it at first.

Matching pieces with his eyes... that's really cute AAAAAAA. Picking out jewelry and other accessories based on his eyes while he does the same, and he's just melting because you're such a sweetheart,, oh, he's so in love,,, I think Azul is the best person to go shopping with because he enjoys shopping (especially when he has a list of things he needs) and is good at helping you choose things if you're debating different aesthetics and prices and whatnot. Very logical. Jade is the type who will go and has fun seeing you shop, but he doesn't buy anything (he insists on holding your bags and everything else so that you can have free hands,,, he's so boyfriend). As for Floyd, I suppose it's entirely mood dependent. He does make for a fun shopping friend, but then he's also a big spender who likes luxury brands,, also, I feel like if you go shopping with Floyd there's a high chance he'll buy things that remind him of you and gift you them after the fact. He shops with Shrimpy in his mind all the time. <3

AAAAA OTL I rambled so much,,, but your thoughts are now wedged in my mind. It's just so perfect. Octavinelle + summer fashion/swimsuits is so *chef's kiss*!!!!!

[iznsfw]

The Devil's Telephone

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut

6969 words

Categories | model!Yujin x photojournalist!you, rough sex

Barely edited. Who cares, I did great.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" 

You're nervous, fidgeting  in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?" 

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly. 

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral. 

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?" 

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

-

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not," says Gaeul. "Say that one more time and your career's over. No going back."

The small smile that's an everyday accessory to her features is gone. That tells you that what she says is what there is to her statement. What you hear is what you get. There's no underlying tone to it; she's completely serious, and besides, when has Gaeul ever lied?

Wring the looped lace of your camera over your head and place it and the device that can make or break your career on her desk. "Nope," you say. "I'm not doing it."

"You will," Gaeul says. "Nobody else will do it."

"Can't you get Jiwon to show up there?" It's worth a try, right?

"Like I said, no chance. Rei's with her on vacation. And Yunjin is out of the question."

"God fucking dammit." 

Looks like this day can actually get worse. First, you miss the taxi going to the studio, ending up being about an hour late to your meeting. And then the nervous intern almost spilled coffee all over your camera. Luckily, the scalding liquid only ended up mostly on your pressed shirt. It's like the day is toying with your feelings, trying to see how far you can get without breaking down.

Your eye twitches. The day might see your breaking point after all. 

"Gaeul," you say, "I'm a photojournalist, not a fucking Seattle professional."

"And so are a quarter of the people who go to the fashion week," she counters. Gaeul exhales through her nostrils, then leans forward on her desk, hands folded. "All you have to do is stand in for Chaewon and take the photos for each model. Don't worry about the caption."

"How'll I know what they're wearing?" 

"I can do that for you. I'm quite the fashion enthusiast, if I do say so myself."

You don't see the sense in it, like, at all. "Then why don't you go take the photos?"

"Because I don't want to, newbie," replies Gaeul simply. She swings her legs over the table and places her palms behind her neck. "You can sit here all day whining about I'm-a-photojourn-this and I-can't-do-it-that, but you're still going to go through." 

Gaeul's a rather straightforward girl, yet she can still make her blunt words sound frightening. You have to show that you can hold your own, too, and that you're not going to back up. Ever.

"And why do you think I'll give in so easily?" you challenge. 

She smiles. "Because An Yujin's going to be there, and unless you live under a fucking rock, you'd know she's the main attraction."

-

You aren't dumb. Of course you know her. It’s impossible not to know of her when the magazines all scream her name and the camera flashes crave her presence. It’s hard to navigate life without at least seeing a Yujin standee for one of the brands she sponsors or her face on soju labels. She’s become a household name that, even if you somehow wished it to be the other way, she's become an inescapable force in every Korean’s life. That’s just how it works. It’s been like that for as long as you remember.

She rose up in the industry at a young age. Being her age, you can remember the buzz she creates among your classmates, from head-over-heels, hopeless romantic boys and adoring girls (and a few girls who'd die to be able to touch her, too.) She's on their phone wallpapers, in another cutesie pose, and on the photocards in the back of clear cases. She's here, she's there, she's everything everywhere. 

You're familiar with her, but nothing about her except the usual: she's a model, she's an idol, she's a—

Ah, how should it go?

The girl beside you at the event, who's rather tall and if circumstances were different should be on the runway herself, tells you it goes like this: "She's an international free-use backstabbing slut."

Well, you didn't expect Kazuha to say that so easily (she told you her name earlier just so you had something to call her during the mandatory small talk),  but you know what she's talking about. However, you have no right to say Yujin's a slut when you're dressed… well, dressed like this. Your whole outfit is an embarrassing array of rainbow colors. Even your tie's pulled into passiveness by the colorful dress code. If this is what those high fashion enthusiasts call "fashion," you're glad you're not a part of them. You'll be glad to keep shopping at your local thrift store. 

Hence, "I wouldn't put it that way," you say.

Kazuha smirks. "How would you say it?" she asks. 

Why is she so interested in what you think about her? You suspect Kazuha's one of those girls who's rather jealous of the stick-figure models strutting the runway but would deny it with all her soul. Maybe that's it. She's jealous that she sits there in the audience while perfection after perfection makes themselves known to the public. 

"She's…" You snap a pic of another eighty-pound model walking down the runway. "Uh, promiscuous. That's all."

Kazuha grins. She purses her lips and writes down on her notepad, probably intending to use your statement as a headline pun. "Maybe we should switch jobs," she says. "You can be the devil's advocate journalist, and I can be the white knight photographer." 

Exhale loudly. For fuck's sake, you want to tell her, I'm only here to do the job I didn't want in the first place. Why has she chosen you to play with to fulfill her boredom? Whatever game she's set, you're not joining. 

"Look, what is it about Yujin that you hate?" you ask. 

"She fucked Jang Wonyoung, those MCs she used to partner up with, that actress from the period drama who was on Produce, too… everybody."

"Okay." You look at her pointedly. "Source?" 

Kazuha gestures a rude index to the runway. "Look at her. Look at her and tell me she isn't a slut. I dare you."

You look up from the lens of your camera for once, and as much as you'd like to come to Yujin’s defense, seeing as there’s no evidence to all those allegations and being a public figure with all the criticism must be the deepest ring of hell, you see what Kazuha means. 

You hate to say it, and you’d love to pass no judgment, but the prodding journalist is right. Yujin isn't skin and bones like the other models, nor does she wear light makeup. However, her confident gaze that not once settles on the floor immediately makes you think, wow, now that is a model. She only looks forward, stepping onto the smooth floor in heels that make her much taller than she already is. Her eyes are lined with this sharp, blaring dark that makes her brown contacts stand out and makes her look like a black cat. So much for Jiwon’s nickname.

But that isn’t all. It’s far from done, because it’s not Yujin’s arrogant smile that drips of sultriness that confirms Kazuha's allegations for you, nor is it her makeup. It’s what she’s wearing. Her chest nearly spills out of the oddly-cut neckline of her blouse, and it’s see-through, meaning that even if her busty figure is in some way contained by the clothing, you can still see everything. For example, her tummy lined with her abs and a small tattoo (barely noticeable, but enough to cause a few tabloids to freak out); her wide hips, and of course; the bare flesh of her breasts. The fabric tape does nothing to hide them when her brown nipples beg to be seen through the fabric. Each bounce coerced by her confident strut is out there for all to see, and so are the jiggles of her full thighs. 

Which part of everything do you have to immortalize in a photograph? You don’t know. You just keep taking pictures. There’s plenty enough to create a video of her walk without actually having to record one. 

Seeing your dropped jaw, Kazuha grins satisfactorily. “Told you,” she says.

You aren’t done looking, though. As the press and audience scream her name, (they all know her name—she’s bagged so many brand deals, shot more than enough magazine covers, and performed songs you couldn’t count on two hands just so that any type of audience can recognize her), Yujin steps up to the end of the catwalk. She smiles at all the attention, setting a hand on her waist before blowing several kisses to the audience. 

And, of course, she finishes off her umpteenth walk with another scandal:

Shredding her blouse into pieces. Yujin rips it clean from the seams, letting the lost dangle of fabric finally reveal the whole of her chest. Her skimpy shorts are the only thing remaining complete on herself. 

The viewers gasp, and you do, too. But you're hypocrites, the lot of you, for you remain interested in scanning every bit of her enviable body. Secretly, you all know that some part of you were looking there even before her blouse ripped.

You haven’t seen a model do that before, but then again, she’s not just a model. She’s plenty of things: a singer, an idol, an ambassador—

A slut. A full-on, shameless, lives-up-to-her-name slut.

-

“So.”

“So,” you say, resentfully. Your camera’s in your bag, and Gaeul is on the phone with you. You’re proceeding out of the vicinity like everybody else. It's eight p.m.; someone’s bound to be hungry at this hour, and that someone is you.

You can hear the giggle in her voice as she asks you, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” you say, flabbergasted. Zip up your satchel bag and walk through the rain. “Gaeul, the girl just ripped her shirt off in front of everyone! This isn’t what I signed up for!”

What should you get tonight? Minute Burger? Maybe McDonald’s or some sushi? You’d take anything—you’re pretty hungry after the long show. If this is how hunger hits after shows, you’re glad you don’t have to go through the whole fashion week. By Saturday, you’d be as dead as everyone was after the stunt Yujin pulled.

“I thought you knew about her, newbie,” replies Gaeul. She’s clearly poking fun at your reaction. What’s also clear is the obvious fact that she picked you out for this job just to see how you’d handle it. Would you go crazy? Treat Yujin as a Victorian man who’d just seen a lady’s ankles would? Oh, she’d love to find out.

“I didn’t know she was…"

"Yeah?"

"B-bold.”

“Oh, please be normal about it. You’re a photojournalist. You handled the dead guy who was stabbed alright, but a woman showing her tits is where you cross the line?”

“It’s not that,” you say tiredly. Your stomach is really growling now. “I guess… I think…”

"Hey."

Your phone drops to the wet cement road. Like a haunting phantom, Yujin appears out of nowhere. It's like she suddenly materialized from the fog of the storm.

You don't know where to look. Yujin's still dressed, (somewhat), in her ruined blouse. The thing is even more transparent as the rain beats down on it. Still, she looks perfect. She is perfect. You know that without having to be a fan of her. 

The light from a camera hidden in a beaten bush makes you flinch. If the crouched man in black taking photos of Yujin isn't there, you'd have accepted your fate to get struck by lightning. Yujin raises her eyebrows questioningly, and you're forced to compose yourself once more.

"Uh, hi," you stammer. Bend down to pick your sodden phone up. Darn it, it's dead. How will you contact Gaeul now?

"You're one of the photographers, right?" asks Yujin. Unlike you, she doesn't care that your phone has met its end, or mind that her boobs are out in the open. 

You mutter something of agreement, but you're still tinkering with your phone. The battery's probably broken, which's a pity when your late mother gifted it to you on the last birthday you had together.

"Damn, must be nice to snap photos of a half-naked chick, huh? You liked seeing me up there?" 

That makes you stop fiddling with your destroyed gadget. "I," you say, cornered into confession but still trying to gather a burst of energy to escape, "I'm not—"

"An Yujin," she says, as if the whole world doesn't scream her name. As if she were just another girl out there who's a little too friendly. She doesn't offer her hand; she grasps yours and shakes it firmly. 

You have no other choice but to be acquainted with her there and then. You tell her your name, albeit nervously, as you slip your phone into your pocket. What is she planning? Why is she out here with you? 

Yujin grins. "Nice to meet you. Want to come to a party at my house? Starts when we get there."

Now you understand what she's planning. What else would you expect from her?

First things first, though: where should you look? Her chest is a dangerous option. To look or not to look? That is the question—you choose the second option. Note the dim stars in the foggy sky. Look down at the road blotted with raindrops. Remark inwardly about the state of your shoes and how they're too expensive to be dragged through a weather like this.

Second, should you go? Gaeul would be looking for you. She'd want the pics immediately so she could put them in the magazine and on your company blog site. But you haven't had fun in years, and for a girl with the wealth and status of Yujin, it might be a new beginning.

Work, however, comes first.

"I'm sorry," you tell her. You really are. Yujin seems like a fun girl outside of her wildness. "I don't think I—"

"Great! Come on, I'll drive you!" 

That's how you end up in a limousine for the first time in your life and learn that An Yujin doesn't take no for an answer. 

The seats are dark and soft, and there's two long aisles of it for thirty pax max to occupy. However, despite the spaciousness, Yujin still chooses to sit snugly beside you. Should you feel flattered? Intimidated? You struggle to choose for this question.

You wonder where you're headed. The infamous Jang Hills where celebrities like singer Son Seungwan and model and humanitarian Jang Wonyoung, who owns the place, reside? The rain is too strong for you to be able to see where the vehicle's headed, but you suspect that's the destination. There's no other. 

"So," says Yujin. She's still sitting comfortably beside you. Her smile dimples her cheeks, and it just doesn't match the boldness of her ripped blouse. When she wears that smile, she looks like a girl who's too cheerful and innocent to be… the way she is. "Would I have to pay you to see my photos?"

"For god's sake, Miss An, put on some clothes before you scare the guy," chuckles the driver, shaking his head. He's a tall, dark man with the typical shades and a rosary on his rearview mirror. You wonder if he prays for Yujin sometimes. 

"But that's no fun," she says, the pout on her face growing wider when her driver tosses her a black fur coat (that still reminds you of her when you note how the chest part is gone) and sleeveless innerwear. Seems like he keeps clothes in his car for situations like these. "Clothes are so big and boring, you know. Totally outdated.

"Anyway, about the photos…?" 

"Oh, you don't have to pay," you tell her. But you know that money isn't a problem with Yujin—she can buy you and your whole life if she chose to. 

"Gimme then." She makes grabby hands, and your camera eventually ends up in them. Her eyes sparkle with narcissistic adoration. "Oh damn, I look hot. Delete this, though. Bad angle."

"I– okay." 

"My tits look amazing, don't you think? Come on, say my tits look fantastic."

"Ms. An," says the driver firmly, albeit his tone holds some of the amusement in it still. "Put on some clothes."

Yujin rolls her eyes, but she does. And you watch as she strips, painfully slow. She pulls the soaked blouse above her wet body, showing her bare, beautiful arms and pits. Even her soft midriff is perfect. And, try as you may (must),  you can't stop looking. Several snaps and pinches would be too weak to pull you back into reality, because there's the goddess that she is to look at. You figure out now why your former classmates were and still are obsessed with her. She may be a wild little thing, but she's got an amazing body, an amazing fashion sense. Everything about her, even her boldness, is enviable. Desirable. Unreachable.

The clothes mold to her beautiful shape. The damp, slightly messy hair only adds to her beauty. You can feel yourself getting warm. 

"We're here," says Yujin cheerfully, oblivious to the way your eyes are raking down her perfect body. "Here's your camera. Wouldn't want it to break like your phone. Pity."

Getting up to open the car door isn't part of a wealthy girl's everyday life. Yujin isn’t an exception—she has her driver to do that plus assist her out of the limo, and when he does, you're welcomed into a whole new world.

The rain has halted. Signs of its earlier presence, however, can be seen on the drops on the maze of bushes. There's statues of Eros, gray and mighty with his strong arms and arrows, perched on pedestals to the entrance of the mansion. Through the gate, you catch sight of a large pool, where heiresses and friends of Yujin laugh and swim. It's no land for lowlives. You are the exception, somehow. 

"This… this is your house?" 

"Yep!” She nods positively. “Daddy gave it to me after he died from a heart attack."

"My condolences," you say. As the guards open the gate to Yujin's mansion, you admire the place. It looks like a temple for cupids. Perhaps it’s Yujin they’re worshiping.  "Did he have heart conditions before that?"

"No." She shakes her head then waves happily to one of her friends at the pool. "He just saw me wearing a bra over my crop top, and he dropped dead."

You snort. Yujin looks at you weirdly. That's how you realize she isn't kidding. 

"You're serious?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but forgets it. It's a long story that doesn't need more sequels. 

-

Just the second drink of the night and you’ve met more celebrities than an average person would see personally in their whole life. As the dazzling disco ball shimmers rainbow colors all over the place, you catch sight of more than plenty of pretty and handsome faces. Over there is Jang Wonyoung, one of the models who walked earlier, and Miyawaki Sakura, a famous CEO of more beauty lines than you can count on ten fingers. Whether their beauties are handcrafted or God-given, they all have something in common: they’re all A-listers—they’re relevant, popular, used to this wild lifestyle. Camera flashes have trained them not to flinch at the gliding lights. This is an everyday routine in their book.

However, you’re used to being behind the camera, not in front of it. You’re overstimulated by the sea of laughing, moving bodies and the loud music. While Yujin happily screams and downs several shots, you stand idly beside her, dizzy and tired. 

“I don’t think I can handle more.”

“Past your bedtime?” asks Yujin, grinning. She waves at Wonyoung and points at you, mouthing something to her, to which the model winks in response. You wonder what kind of exchange the two models had that granted an unusually smug look on Wonyoung’s face. You’re certain it’s about you, but you don’t know what it’s about. You’re not even sure if you want to discover it.

“It’s not that,” you say embarrassedly. “I’m… I’m not a party person. I get lightheaded easily.”

“Wanna take a break? Go to my room?”

Now that’s a red flag. It doesn't even try to hide its true color; it waves proudly in front of you. You’re the bull who went straight for it. 

Yujin’s bedroom is the size of your living room, with a large bed to match. Curtained pillars stand on each end while posters hang off the walls. You suppose that the people on them are the ones Yujin looks up to: IU, known as Lee Jieun whenever she ventures out of singing and into acting; Marilyn Monroe (no explanation needed), and a few other nameless models and actresses. A lot are old posters of seventies’ pornographic films. Lights frame the mirror on the dresser table. 

“You’re a privileged girl, miss An,” you say. It’s the only way you can respectfully say that she’s kind of a spoiled brat. But maybe that’s your jealousy talking.

“I know, right?” replies Yujin, twirling around. “And please, call me Yujin. You can sit on the bed if you want to.”

Your mind toys with the idea of the posters on her wall debating if you’re the hundredth person to have come over or the thousandth. Nevertheless, you want to stay neutral; it’s none of your business anyway. So you take a seat on the edge of the softest mattress you’ve ever felt while Yujin does so, too. She kicks her boots off on the carpeted floor. 

“Hey,” says Yujin, “want to play a game before you doze off?”

Just how many red flags does this girl have? “Er, sure.” You shrug. Maybe it’s just a game, nothing more, like she said. 

“Since we barely know each other, let’s take turns asking each other questions. Dibs on the first question.

“I haven’t seen you in shows before. How did you end up there?”

A safe start. “One of my coworkers was sick,” you explain. “I had to fill in for her. My turn.”

“Hit me.”

“Did you take modeling classes?”

Yujin laughs as if it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “God, no,” she says. “Classes and workshops are scams. All I had to do was ask my daddy to ask for a spot for me.”

“Must be nice.”

“Right? Did you take classes for photography?”

“I took one of the scams, yeah,” you say, earning a giggle from Yujin. “I’m a journalist first. It’s all I know.”

Meaningful silence fills the air. You remain hooked on your sentence, realizing how true it is. Photojournalism is the only thing you’re good at. It’s sheltered you and brought you so many opportunities at the same time. You don’t know how to find other hobbies to make your forte when you’re stuck in its bubble, and its bubble only. Without your camera, you’re nothing. Without people like Yujin to take photos of, you’re nothing, too. 

You suppose you should break the heavy silence. But you’re unsure if your question should be asked; it might trigger a violent response from her, although she’s been nothing but laid-back with you. And you don’t particularly want a rich girl to ruin your career. You’ve gone so far that the only direction to look at is forward.

But you must learn to take risks.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" 

You're nervous, fidgeting  in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?" 

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly. 

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral. 

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?" 

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

You’re flustered. Did Yujin—this tall, alluring model that’s got her whole life ahead of her yet nothing to lose, this irritatingly attractive Yujin—really say that to you? Or was it something lost in the swarms of shouts and music from outside of the room? Maybe you’ve misheard. Maybe you’ll keep playing safe tonight. 

But those are just mere maybes with no connection at all to what’s about to happen.

“Can’t do it yourself, pretty boy? Let me help you.”

Yujin lifts your satchel bag from your shoulders. You find yourself raising your arms to help her. It’s like the what and tension in the air have infected you and made you into this heated, lustful character far from the real you, because if this were truly your own self, you’d say you had a career. You’d say this shouldn’t be happening. You’d leave the room instead of helping her unbuckle your belt. You’d do anything but this.

Perhaps she’s changed you.

Yujin slips a tongue along the path of her luscious lips at the sight of your bare thighs and cock. “Our friend here,” she says, “needs a little help from me, no?”

“Yujin…” you moan, and it’s humiliating, especially when barely anything sexual has happened yet. At least, anything sexually physical. 

Luckily for you, she curls her fist around your dick and gives justification to your breathy sounds. Maybe the rumors about how she likes to get around are true; Yujin knows how to work her way with a cock. Her warm fingers jerk your flesh at just the right timing, letting the hardness build up before doing that too with the pace. She’s looking at you with this wild desire in her eyes that grows bigger when your erection does, too. Oh, and that smile—if looks could kill, An Yujin would already be arrested for your murder.

“Now that’s not so bad, is it?” she remarks. She spits on your cock. Her wet saliva coats your length with just enough to let her smooth palm slide along itself pleasurably. “You like this? Just wait until you feel my pussy. Or maybe my lips would do first? The higher ones, I mean.” 

Yujin’s lips descend onto your shaft, welcoming it into an impossibly soft and wet heaven. Yujin’s little tongue flicks at your base gently, even daring to lick at a little part of your balls before working their way up. It deliciously slides upwards at your veins.

“Fuck, Yujin. Your mouth—fuck, it feels so good.”

“Mmm.” Yujin engages in an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss with your tip. “I know. I’d fuck me, too, if I could, but I have you to do that.”

“Right,” you say breathily, because she is. If she’s sucking your cock this well and her cheek’s painfully stimulating as your cockhead brushes it, how much better would her pussy be? You’re definitely fucking her, even if your experience in this is zero. Yes, that’s also right: you’re a virgin. Zero experience, no bitches.

But, if it means anything, it’s the other way around. It’s Yujin making you her bitch. She may be serving you with the lips and kisses of a good girl, but her eyes tell you that there’s more to it than you think. You’re hers, see, for this night, and that’s all you ever will be. You’re no photojournalist anymore—you’re Yujin’s one night stand, and that’s the only achievement people will ever remember to your name.

“These’re so fucking full,” murmurs Yujin as she admires your heavy balls. Sucking on them lightly before smiling up at you, she adds, “Make sure to blow all of it in my face, ‘kay? Promise me.”

“Think you can handle it, Yujin?” you ask, and it’s another embarrassing moment you’ll relive forever, for your cockiness will never get on the level she has. Your voice shakes too hard and your cock drips too much—it’s clear who owns who at this point.

“I’m a big girl.” Unfazed, she smiles. “I can handle myself.”

“Y-you sure?”

“Oh, don’t play hard to get it, baby,” Yujin coos. She pleases you with one hand and glides her fingers on your thigh with the other. It’s deadly. She’s deadly. “Let your guard down. It’s just me.”

“And you’ve said that to how many people?” you shoot back.

“More than you’re worth,” she quips. She winks at you. “Now cum for me.”

Ouch, but it doesn’t matter when her lips provide a great suction to cool the burn. It’s making your cock feel the heat instead, forming the tightness in your stomach more. Her hands massaging your thighs causes your sensitivity to reach an all-time high. Yujin’s covered your shaft in such an amountful that just one lick sends your toes curling. She licks, she sucks, she laps at your weak spots and delights in the upward push of your hips, but her hands keep your legs down. Can’t have her meal escaping. She wants all of your cum, and when Yujin wants (no, needs) something, she gets it. It’s how she’s navigated life, having everything her heart could ever want brought to her by whim. But if she has to work for your cum, then so be it. Either-which-way, she’s not giving up until she gets it.

She kisses your cock deeply, almost making your lips jealous. She sucks on each sensitive side and your dripping tip. What takes the cake, though, is how she downs the whole thing so suddenly, slipping itself inside her tight throat and letting you fuck it. Gasps can’t be contained by your pursed lips, and their cycle of repetition continues because of her. Because of Yujin, Yujin and her stupidly desirable mouth.

“Fuck,” you whine. When she hears that, she pulls away. Like rain, drops of semen make slick landings on her face. You keep expelling several shots of the thing she so desperately wants, and you realize that, even with your own pleasure being fulfilled, you’re still serving Yujin. You’re still giving her what she wants: your cum on her face. The fact that she’s playing with you remains stoic.

“Ah, this is the best.” Yujin licks her cumstained lips. “I could have swallowed it all like I did with these cherries here, but I can’t let it spoil the main course.”

“W-which is?” you inquire, still panting. Can you handle more? 

You find out through Yujin taking off her black vest. Then, she slips out of her jean skirt. It hugs her lower figure so nicely that it nearly makes you mourn their departure, but you find a better thing to gawk at, and it’s Yujin’s ass and thighs. She may have dressed earlier, but the panties were off. She cares not for modesty, even outside of the modeling industry.  It’s just not who she is. 

For that, you’re glad. If Yujin were modest, you wouldn’t have had the chance to see her fat ass and shaven pussy up close. You wouldn’t get to see her sway her hips side to side, letting you see from behind how her ass ripples and bounces, or let you peer at her dripping thighs. 

"You're weaker than all the others," Yujin notes. "I like it."

Should you be offended? Probably, but you aren't, because there's her approval. There's her saying that she likes how easily you break. There's her on the bed with her pussy spread by her fingers, revealing her tiny hole and needy clit.

There's a lot to look at is what you're saying, and a lot to take in consideration. For example—

"Ohhhh, fuck," moans Yujin. She rubs her core and gets a feel of how wet she is. "I'm so wet, see? I'm so, fuck, wet from blowing you."

Yujin leans against one of the pillars of her bed. What makes the sight of her masturbating hotter is that she's still covered in the face with cum that soon drips down her neck and onto her collarbone. She looks like she's been used incessantly, to the point where no amount of cock or finger can help her reach a good enough high. Although you're still sensitive, you begin to jack yourself off to her.

"Shit. Ohhh." Her head tosses backwards and she shuts her eyes. "This feels so good. Make me feel even better. Use your mouth."

It's all about what she wants, but you find out that you also want to put your mouth on her. Stop jerking off to kneel on the floor and place your hands on her thick thighs. You have no idea how to do this except from porn, but she moans loudly when you flick your tongue upwards, so you must be doing well.

Yujin's so wet that she dribbles on her expensive sheets. The feminine scent of her drives you crazy. Due to that, you pick up the pace of eating Yujin out. She's delicious. Better than any expensive meal you got going out. 

"Oh, fuck," mewls Yujin. She grinds her clit down on the flat of your tongue. "That's it. Eat me out like that."

Next, guide your tongue to her slit, catching the juices she has. Push it inside, make her thighs suddenly clamp around your head. Painful, but worth it, because as useful as her makeshift earmuffs are, you can still make out her heavy moans.

“G-good, god, so good. Don’t you stop, don’t you fucking stop.” 

“I won’t.”

The force of your mouth holds nothing back as it holds Yujin’s nub captive. She pulses in your mouth, and you can sense that she’s close because she’s screaming. She's squirming, she's writhing, she's—

“Stop.”

“But I, I thought you said—” You were having such a good time, too. Why did she have to ruin it?

Yujin giggles. “I wanted to cum on your cock,” she confesses. Sweat rolls down the sides of her face. “Let me?”

She’s subtly assertive like that, asking you first before making you do it anyway. She’s so used to getting her way, so used to letting people bend reality into the form she wants. And you’re becoming one of those people, as you lie down on the bed and let her mount you. You don’t suppose anyone would refuse either—her splayed lips rubbing your tip seems like a good thing to have in exchange for being under her ownership.

“Fuck,” you curse. Maybe this is better, in hindsight. Her hole grasps for you, but she teases it by only letting her clit glide along your cock. “Miss An, ah, Yujin, you’re so—”

“Pretty? Successful? Tight?” She sinks down on your dick with a smirk that differs from your weakened look of bliss. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

They’re all perfect adjectives to describe her, but you weigh in the most on the last. Her soaked slit swallows you without time to properly take it in. She just keeps bouncing on you, a millisecond going unspared, as if she’d die if your cock weren’t ramming in her all times of the day. By her desperate moans, you think you’re right. They’re heavy, hanging onto your mind for too long that it just makes you throb harder inside. 

You reach up to grab her tits. The bra-like innerwear she dons blocks you from experiencing the whole of it, and Yujin takes that into consideration, through which she pulls it up her arms and off herself. Her bust now moves up and down freely, looped in your mind like a constant reminder of how lucky you are to have Yujin fuck you. She may get around a lot, but whoever she fucks is like her: a hell of a catch.

 You lift yourself up to suck on their brown nipples. She moans ferally. Her pushing your head deeper into her tits is how you realize you’ve wanted to do this, to suck and play and slap her chest, ever since you saw them be set free on the runway. It’s funny how two mounds of flesh can hypnotize you just like that. You’re trying to defeat the impulse actions they convince you to do, as if they were spiritual entities on your shoulder each to twist your decisions. But both are devils—even from their source, it’s clear that An Yujin is no angel.

“Yes, so good!” she screams. Her eyes are shut as she rides you with an impulse and speed that surely can’t be human. The pleasure she unleashes onto your cock as her pussy clings and gropes it must be the embodiment of the deadly sin of lust itself. It was written before in holy books, preached as a warning in churches. There’s no explanation for how angrily she impales herself with your cock. “Your cock’s too fucking big, I’m going to cum all over it!”

You spank her ass, and the plentiful skin wiggles right back into your hand. Seeing her face twist up into this pained yet blissful reaction inspires you to continue. That and your cock entering and exiting her hole, plus your kisses following the path of her neck makes Yujin go crazy. 

“Fuck me!” She’s fully unhinged when she cums. Her short yet sharp, alliterate downward thrusts of her core leaves red on your thighs. She’s kissing you with this hunger that’s been fulfilled, in a way, but with which comes gluttony. She can’t have enough. She can’t have enough of your dick. It starts to scare you how she’s like the girls your pastor warned you about in Sunday school—she’s a gluttonous nymphomaniac greedy for things that aren’t good for her. Aren’t good for you.

Having sex with An Yujin makes you debate if you should go back to your religious roots and pray again. You’ve heard about the devil hiding behind human faces, and she completely fits the criteria: charming, deceiving, gorgeous beyond human comprehension. However, her divine body also can be something holy. It’s something that’s more than worth worshiping.

Which is which: evil or good? Angel or demon? A goddess who descended to earth or something far, far more dangerous? 

Whichever, you just busted a load inside exactly that. 

-

“So.”

“Hm?”

“Come on, tell me,” you say. Yujin’s teasing banter piques your curiosity to higher levels. “Did you really fuck all those people, or is it just,” shrug, as if you couldn’t care less when you do, “you know, hearsay?”

Yujin strokes your chest thoughtfully. The aftermath of the rough sex has left her almost invalid, but after a shower, she’s good to go. You followed suit after.

“The devil’s telephone,” she whispers.

“Huh?”

“Here. You know where to call me.”

[pianocat939]

High school...nerd!Mikey?

Last one of the mean girls group! Thank you for being patient while I drag my procrastinating self around.

Tw: stalking, mention of worship and murder, Mikey has a shrine

Nerd Mikey is nice to many people but doesn't express himself as flamboyantly as his elder brothers, (specifically Leo and Donnie). That being said, he manages to hide some secrets about himself much easier than his siblings.

His biggest secret is that he stalks MC, even during the times they're with his brothers. He makes sure he isn't seen by his brothers by manages to sneak past and observe MC to the fullest.

At his own home, in a small section of his closet, he keeps a mini shrine of MC, consisting of a photo album and a few stolen trinkets or accessories. Miniscule enough to be unnoticed by his family, but enough to satisfy his delusions.

He doesn't like the way Donnie treats them, but also dislikes the way Leo tries to suck up to them in any way possible. But he HATES the way Raph acts so innocently around them as if he hasn't committed murder in broad daylight. In his book, you should be completely bare from the start and not hide your true personality (now, he exempts actions from this philosophy).

He likes to draw or write about MC in the notebook he carries around. He's detailed with his creations. Whether it's the single beauty mark on the cheek or the blank blink you do when you're in deep thought; every single thing is inscribed into his notebook.

He doesn't murder or threaten any opponents like his siblings. He tends to let them take care of it. He would rather take advantage of his clean slate and draw MC closer to him, preferably away from them.

In a way, he's someone who works behind the scenes. Slowly but surely drawing in MC to forever ignite his delusions and worshipping.

Oh and he WILL make drawings of MC in different god/mythical forms because he's just like.

(Ah- this is really messy help. Well, to be fair I was typing with 9 fingers of 10)

- Celina

[sevikasangel]

ﾐ☁︎ ❝ 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞: 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚

— contains: f!reader, sfw and nsfw content, possessiveness, gaslighting, girlbossing, gatekeeping, light blood mentions, manipulation, kidnapping, light bondage, mistress, pet play, stockholm complex.

— a/n: my first post of my wife! i love carmilla so much ughhh. also, this is the first post of my new upcoming event to celebrate 1k of us!

₊˚✧ ₊˚੭ 𝐬𝐟𝐰 ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚੭

♡ carmilla's obsession would begin when she firstly laid her eyes on your terrified, shaky form. you were a helpless, small little human being surrounded by Bloodthirsty vampires who apparently hadn't had anything but pigs as meals for ages.

❀ "well, well...what do we have here? hmm, i see...a pathetic little nothing of a girl...brought to get her blood drained by us, vampires...just like humans are meant to."

♡ elegant, slender hands comes up to cradle your face and the vampiress leans in to sniff your neck. you whimper at the sound of her quiet, nonchalant chuckle.

❀ "this one's the finest human i've seen, doesn't look so disgusting to me. how can you still be beautiful...have little useless accessories, well presenting clothes, soft hair...when your species is being slaughtered in war? is it really that important to you to show off, little human?"

♡ there was a hint of possessiveness on her tone. the thought of your own race laying eyes on such a fine specimen made carmilla's skin itch. inferior animals shouldn't have the right to have you. a perfect pet.

❀ "so beautiful this little pet is, eh? this one's mine. find something else to feast on."

♡ carmilla decided to take you with herself. you didn't know if you should consider her your saviour, since her true intentions seemed to be slavering you. the first thing she did was stripping you from your clothes and into a white, short dress with nothing beneath. she claimed it'd be for easier access when she needed. then she collared you with a chain choker, a little hook that would be used when a leash needed to be attached.

❀ "do not hide yourself from me. your body is mine to see and touch as i please. you are my pet from now on. you do as i say, when i say. and do not forget...because i hate repeating myself."

♡ carmilla would constantly drink from your blood. it was never enough to kill you, though enough to make you dizzy and light headed. however, if she was punishing you for disobeying, she'd do it until you pass out, causing you to be terrified that she was actually going to murder you.

♡ you are her darling. she is completely obsessed with you. perfect, perfect little pet...she would not allow you outside on your own, or around anybody else if she wasn't present. during meetings, she'd have you perfectly seated on the floor besides her chair with your leash in her hand.

♡ if another vampire ever attempted to drink from you or cause you harm, she would gruesomely kill them. you are hers. she's the only one who is ever allowed to hurt you. attacking you is a direct offence at the queen.

♡ she'd constantly be stalking you through the shadows in the palace. you'd feel her eyes on your preventing you from misbehaving. she's obsessed with her pet in the sickest way possible.

♡ carmilla would always talk about the cruelty and dangers of the world, ruining any ideas and hopes of escaping you had. with a hand to your hair and the other holding your throat, she'd look into your eyes and talk about how safe you are, and how grateful you should be for the protection and care of your mistress.

❀ "little pet...you know the world would lacerate you into pieces, don't you? such a fragile thing you are. you are so lucky you have a kind mistress to yourself...see, you owe me your loyalty and undying, everlasting love. i keep you safe, i give you everything you need. i would haaate it if you made me hurt you. if you aren't mine, you aren't anybody else's."

‧₊˚✧ ₊˚੭ 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚੭

♡ carmilla is a top. she isn't ever going to be a bottom ever. she has this need to be in absolute control of you, in every way possible.

♡ definitely a hard, strict dom who will demand discipline and obedience from her submissive little human. she doesn't tolerate bratty behaviour at all.

♡ the only time you decided to be a brat, carmilla made you regret it profusely. she had you completely tied up in a tight hogtie position with all your holes filled, nipple clamps on your nipples as she flogged your back and ass.

❀ "little pet desires to act like a savage...you wanted to get on my nerves, didn't you? i will make you regret it. cry all you want, i don't care. your pathetic self needs to be put in its place. i am your mistress! you are a little human who owes me your soul. you are all mine to do as i please!"

♡ definitely has a blood kink. she loves drinking from your blood while her cold fingers toy with your clit and push into your dripping hole. you feel ashamed of yourself out of how much you enjoy this.

♡ carmilla likes tugging on your leash while she takes you from behind with her strap. her face always has the same small smirk and evil eyes.

❀ "aren't you embarassed, pet? you should be...can you hear how wet and sloppy your pussy is for your captor? this makes your mistress very pleased, my dirty little pet human."

♡ carmilla makes you straddle her foot, completely naked while she's at her office. she commands you to make yourself cum and not dare stop while she finished her paperwork, her free hand stroking your hair as she throws a praise here and there like you're an obedient pup.

♡ if she is feeling generous and you earn it, carmilla will let you eat her out. she will be sitting on the edge of the bed with you on your knees between her thighs. your hands are tied behind your back as she doesn't allow you to touch her. her grip on your hair is tight and she tugs on it, riding your face however she pleases. her moans are breathy and quiet. even like this, the queen doesn't lose her posture.

❀ "that's it, pet. please your mistress...hmmm...you're the best toy i've ever had...ugh...i will let you taste my cum as a reward...good pet...good pet..."

♡ carmilla always gives you aftercare following rough sessions. she'd prepare a hot bath for the both of you. the vampiress allows you to rest your head on her chest while you're both inside and she scrubs your body until it's relaxed and clean.

[yumeaoka-chan]

I Want It (all come true)

a/n: Idk man. I'm trying🥲🤚 I'm more active on Ao3 so yeah.

Relationship: Hobie Brown x Silk! Fem! R

Word Count: 5.3K

Summary: You let out a deep sigh, eyes rolling in mild annoyance as you looked over your shoulder. You glared at the building next to you, knowing he was there from the way your heart seemed to lurch into your throat. It didn't matter if you found him (extremely fucking etheral) a little cute. You needed time to process everything…alone.

Or, the Hobie x Silk! Reader fanfic nobody asked for. (Title based off of "I Was Made For Loving You" by KISS)

Tags: Cursing, implied sexual tension, reader is AFAB, reader is implied black but there's no physical description of her(besides clothing, tattoos, and accessories), maybe smut in near future??(not sure, very unlikely)

Chapter 1

Wonderful. Just perfect. It wasn't enough that your day at work had been utter shit, two of your four clients being an absolute pain to deal with. Not to mention that you were running on sheer fumes at the moment. No lunch, no breakfast, and no meds for the raging headache that was beginning to form. It still wasn't enough, the universe seeming to hold no pity for you.

Running through the dark streets of London, your heart hammering in your chest. Rain was heavy on your skin, jacket clinging to your body as you dashed and cold water splashing your calves with every step. You grit your teeth in mild annoyance at not being able to find a crowd to run into. Well, it's not like you didn't already know the streets would be scarce. The only ones out in this weather would be people who just got off work or those who were stupid and drunk. The thunderous sounds of footsteps behind you made your pulse quicken, your legs working harder to escape the group of men.

You zipped and darted between buildings, ducking and jumping over fences. It did little to deter your pursues. Curses tumbled from your lips when you ran smack into a brick wall, nose stinging from the impact. With a groan, you turned back to face the group of armed officers. They leered at you, batons and shields held up menacingly. A placating smile was what you gave in response.

“Enough”, one of them gumbled while pointing his baton at you. “We've got you surrounded.”

“Listen, guys, I already told you that I'm not one of the rebels! I just got off of work!”

Partially a lie, but they didn't need to know that. The man just sneered and gestured to your everything, suspicion lurking in his eyes.

“Look like one. Sure do dress like one. Plus, you ran. You wouldn't have ran if you had nothing to hide.” He had a point. Tattoos, piercings, and the clothes on your back don't really help your case.

“I'd have ran regardless”, you scoff before letting out a sigh of exasperation. “You're literally hounding me! Just… let me go… And nobody gets hurt…”

The officers laughed loudly, with disbelief on their faces. One came up to you then, quick on his feet and raising up his baton. With wide eyes, you move your head just as he swings it down. Your senses go haywire, the officers closing in on you and spelling danger. Eyes narrowed, you dodged a punch on your right before backing away from a slap on your left. With great strength, you pushed the one in front of you away, his body flying backwards a few feet. There was no time to mind the harsh cracking sound his head made when he fell onto the asphalt. Reflexes quick, you dodged a hit aimed for the back of your head and promptly kicked the one responsible in the chest. He let out a yelp as he slammed hard against the opposite wall.

One managed to grab a hold of your hair, giving it a harsh yank. Your head snapped to the side, a gasp of surprise at the sharp pain. Teeth bared and frown deepened, you whirled around to punch him. Your fist collided with his jaw and made him crumble to the ground, a hiss of pain leaving his lips. Eyes darting about, you looked for a way to escape. There really wasn't one and your hope for these people to leave you be was diminishing, the officers you hit getting back up with a vengeance. The feeling of cold metal smashing against your nose had you reeling, your eyes rolling when another smack was made across your face.

Warmth oozed down the side of your face, your ear throbbing and ringing harshly. You felt hands in your hair again and you angrily tried to pull away before, suddenly, the pain in your scalp was gone. A loud whoop sounded out in the alley before a flash of red jumped before your eyes.

“Oi, oi! Mind if I join the party?”

“Damn you, you Spider Punk…! Stay outta this!” One of the officers shrieked at the tall figure before you. A deep chuckle left your masked savior before he promptly kicked the man in the chest.

“It's Spider-Man. Get it right, mate.” Before you knew it, the officers were all down. Perhaps it was the fact you had just been wacked by metal batons or the heavy rain, but the fight ended much quicker than you had expected once your savior showed up. Chest heaving and head pounding, you wiped at the blood dripping down your nose. A groan as you realized your nose ring had been knocked right out, huffs of irritation leaving you. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the way colors swam behind your eyelids. Senses suddenly going haywire, you opened your eyes and turned around right as the webbed hero was about to tap your shoulder.

He tilts his head as he stares at you and you suddenly feel something tugging at your stomach. Like a string pulled taunt, like your heart was about to crawl its way up your throat. It wasn't unpleasant and yet it unnerved you. You stared at the masked man longer, observing how tall he was, how his lanky form towered over you. The rain on your skin felt warmer now, the red oozing down your ear barely registering. Your world honed down to nothing except the man in front of you, even your breathing seemed in tune with his.

A loud groan of pain from one of the decommissioned men pulls you out of the trance, your gaze falling down to your feet in embarrassment. That was…awkward… Clearing his throat, your savior spoke softly, his voice deep and warm. It sounded like the richest of coffees, the smoothest of chocolates. You mentally kicked yourself for hitting on someone you haven't said a word to yet.

“Not a good idea for a bird to be walking alone so late. What'd they hound you for…?”

You take a deep breath and shrug, somehow very aware of his presence. The smell of leather and cigarettes was faint from him, the rain unable to completely wash it away.

“Dunno… Just got off work from the tattoo shop and they started hounding me. Bastards…”, you mumble, wincing a bit as you gently poked at your nose. If it wasn't for your enhanced body, your nose would've been good and broken by now. It was times like this that you thanked that godforsaken spider for biting you. Spider-Man gave a small chuckle and shook his head, the sound making goosebumps raise on your skin as you practically ogled him.

“They always bully the ones that look cool. ‘S alright if I walk you to the hospital, birdy?”

His offer makes you blink in surprise before grimacing at the mention of a hospital. You shake your head and let out a sigh.

“No thanks. You can walk me to my place though.”

Spider-Man nods, placing his hands in his pockets and gesturing for you to lead. The walk back to your apartment is… nice, considering you just got out of a fight. The heavy downpour slows to a light drizzle as you trudge on, making it easier to see each other better. You silently observe the way the spikes on his mask glint under the streetlights, the way his many pins and belts jingle as he walks. The way his guitar, decorated with several well worn stickers, sways on his shoulder. There's a necklace around his neck, the dog tag drooping low on his chest. He walks like he has not a care in the world, a laid back stride that makes the trip home seem longer. Not that you're complaining. Every second near him feels right, like some piece of a puzzle you'd never known was missing but couldn't do without.

“Working at a tattoo shop, huh…? You an artist?” The sudden question makes you look up at his face, the eyes of his mask big and boring into you. You nod with a smile before lifting up the sleeve of your jacket. An image of a cracked skull with a small bouquet of flowers growing from out of one of the eye sockets was inked into the skin of your forearm.

“Sure am. Did this myself just two weeks ago.” You won't admit how you preened yourself just a bit when Spider-Man gave out a low whistle, seemingly impressed. Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer in order to get a better look, his face just inches from your own. What on earth was wrong with you? Getting butterflies over a man you just met, like you're back in grade school?

“That's bloody impressive, birdy… Got any clients already lined up?”

“Why? Lookin to get some work done?” You ask softly, eyebrows raised in slight amusement. You couldn't help but notice how much closer you were to your apartment, disappointment coiling in your stomach. It was strange, but you liked his company even though this was your first time meeting him. Spider-Man gave a small chuckle before nodding.

“Maybe I am. Gonna be my artist, birdy?” The question makes you huff out a chuckle, the slight flirty undertone not going unnoticed by you.

“Wow… Is this how it always goes? Spider-Man likes flirting with the people he saves, yeah?”

Your teasing words make him stutter, the eyes of his mask widening in surprise. The sight makes you smile as you peer up at him. You watch as he awkwardly shuffles his feet, fingers absentmindedly strumming a string of webbing in his hands. When he'd gotten that out, you have no clue. It almost sounds like a beat, a rhythmic plucking of his fingers on the small string.

“Ain't really flirting, innit? Just a simple question… Unless you want it to be…?” He mumbles softly, low to where you almost didn't hear him. There's that tugging sensation again in your stomach as you look up at him. Your breathing stills as he tilts his head down at you, a small tingling sensation beginning to stir beneath your skin. It's buzzing, the sensation. It's urging you closer, making every nerve in your body sit on edge. From the very tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes. Even your teeth tingle.

The webslinger looks like he's affected too, shuffling closer to you slowly. You can feel the heat from his body being so close to your own, can even hear the beat of his heart. In the back of your mind, you wonder whether or not he can hear yours, hear how it weirdly enough sounds just like his. Fingers still pluck at his string of webbing as he stands before you. Then, he's lifting up a hand. Slowly, carefully, as if he's afraid he'll frighten you. The tip of his index finger just barely brushes against your cheek before goosebumps appear on your skin.

The tugging in your stomach is a violent pull this time, so forceful that you have to close your eyes just to reign yourself in. His hand holds your cheek like you're made of glass, so fragile and delicate are you. You've never felt a touch so soft, leaning in to his hand more even as the fabric of his suit itches your skin. You want to feel it bare, uncovered and free to press on your own. He's so close that you can hear his soft breathing, almost swearing you can feel his breath through his mask. If only he'd take off the mask completely…

A sudden succession of loud barks snaps you out of your stupor and you gasp, yanking yourself away from Spider-Man. You never even noticed that you had arrived at your apartment, too caught up in whatever weird attraction you had for the masked man in front of you. Shaking your head and arms, trying to will away the buzzing beneath your skin that kept screaming at you to practically jump his bones. You'd done something awkward again. The universe really wasn't on your side today, you thought. Spider-Man turned around and placed a hand over his mouth, a small chuckle of disbelief escaping him. The webslinger seemed just as confused about what transpired as you.

“U-Um… So… Sorry about that. That was weird. Yeah…” You mumbled, glaring down at the pavement to will away the frantic beating of your heart and the embarrassment that threatened to swallow you whole. You spared a glance behind you to your apartment when you heard more barking. Lady, your pit bull, happily stared back at you through the window. Her tongue lapped at her nose as she looked at you, tail wagging back and forth. You're not sure whether or not you're grateful for her convenient interruption.

“No, no, it's cool”, he said quickly as he turned back to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it was weird. But not all of that was on you. Ain't nothin’ to apologize for, birdy.” You give him a small smile before clearing your throat. He glances behind you at your apartment before gesturing to it with a nod of his head. “This your place, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks for helping me back there and walking me home. I wish I could give you something…”, Just as he was about to protest, you held up your hand. “Wait here! Uh, please.” Spider-Man sighs and holds his hands up in surrender before nodding his head. You grin before rushing into your apartment. Lady was quick to run by your side as you bypassed her to get into the kitchen.

Carefully, you took out the large pan of alfredo you had made last night out of the fridge and a couple cans of beer. You were quick to place a large portion in a to-go container and warm it in the microwave, not wanting to give him cold food. You thought it was the least you could do for practically trying to jump him after the poor guy saved you. Especially this late at night. Once it was done, you placed it in a plastic shopping bag, along with a fork and the beers. Snatching a bag of leftover dinner rolls and stuffing that too inside the plastic bag, you hurry back outside. Spider-Man stands there with his hands in his pockets, head down as he whistles a tune.

He looks up when he hears you approaching him, smiling widely before glancing down. You follow his line of sight to see that Lady had followed you outside. She barked and walked up to the webslinger, tail wagging happily. He chuckled and bent down to pet her after she sniffed him, his red suit a stark contrast to the tan and white fur. However, you're too caught up in the fact that you can now see his lips. His mask is pulled up just enough to show them off and what a nice pair they are. Full and plump, lip ring shining under the streetlights. You swallow hard as the persistent thought of how soft they possibly are flits around your head. You shake your head in an attempt to will the thought away.

“So you're the one who was makin’ all that noise, eh? Nice to meet you, girl.”

The pit bull barked before nuzzling her head against his leg. You chuckled at the sight before handing the bag to the masked man. Standing back up, he takes the bag from you with a grin. Heart beating fast, you can't help but think how perfect of a smile it is.

“Oh? What's this?” His question had you scrambling, trying to remember that you didn't come out here in hopes of yanking that mask off of him and kissing him senseless. Yeah, something was really wrong with you. With a sharp intake of breath, you frantically stutter over your words.

“Alfredo I made last night and some beers. I figured I should repay you somehow. Plus, I imagine swinging all day and night makes you hungry. Oh, wait, do you drink beer? Sorry, I should've asked. I-I can get you something else if you'd like-”

“I drink beer, birdy”, he interrupts your rambling. That same smile on his face as he chuckles softly. Again, that tugging sensation. “Thank you, really. Been a while since I've eaten a warm meal like this. I'll let you know how it tastes.”

A nod and a smile is all you give in response. With one more pat on Lady's head and a nod to you, he's off. Jumping and swinging through the air and off into the night, what remains of it. Once he's far gone, you let out a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding. The tugging sensation in your stomach has finally ceased, your body now under your control once more. You ignore the small nagging emptiness that appeared soon after his departure. Looking down at Lady, you let out a loud sigh and walk back into the apartment. Lady follows you, the pendant on her blue collar jingling.

“It's been so insane today, Lady. You just wouldn't believe it”, you groan to your dog loudly as you shuffle back into the kitchen. The pit bull whines softly as if she understood your situation. As much as you'd like nothing more than to flop down onto your bed and sleep like the dead, your next duty awaits. While, yes, you were bitten by a spider that gave you powers similar to Spider-Man, you didn't do much fighting. Not to say that you couldn't fend for yourself or fight when necessary. You just used your powers differently. To mend wounds, to steal medicine to aid the hurt in recovery. You also cooked and delivered meals to the less fortunate families in the poorer district.

While not as flashy or as loud about helping rebel against Osborn and his regime as Spider-Man, you did as much as you could behind the scenes. After portioning the large pan of pasta in several smaller pans and bagging them up in duffle bags, you gather the rest of your supplies. Gallons of water and medicine you stole two weeks ago. Slipping into the suit made from your own webbing and putting on your mask, you filled Lady's bowl with food before grabbing the supplies and leaving your apartment.

The cool night air whips your face as you swing through the city, twisting and turning through the air. There was something peaceful about this time of night, of knowing it was only you and the quiet of the city. As you zipped past buildings and rounded corners, your mind drifted off to thoughts of Spider-Man. Of how strange it was that your whole body reacted so voraciously to him. Not once had you ever crossed paths with that man, neither as regular civilian you or fellow Spider you. Well, until today it seems. It unnerved you a little, how much you had craved him at that moment. And it didn't seem like he was all that opposed to the idea either, seeming just as affected as you.

Shaking your head free of those thoughts, you gracefully jumped down and landed in an alleyway, your feet hardly making a sound. The sun was just barely peeking up over the horizon, sky turning a lighter blue. You fixed the bags on your shoulder and walked around the corner, smiling softly when you met eyes with a little boy. He grinned at you happily, excitement shining in his green eyes. The boy runs up to you and you bend down to greet him, arms wide open and letting out a small oof when his body collides into yours.

“Gromit! How's it been, little man?” You say with a giggle as you wipe the dirt from his chubby little cheek. He pouts up at you before sticking his tongue out.

“It's not Gromit! It's Benny!” The boy huffs, making you giggle. He always did hate the little nickname. You playfully ruffle his dark curls, raising an eyebrow as you pull out the lump of play doh out of his hair. At least, you're hoping it's play doh.

“Of course it is. But, I think Gromit suits you. Now, go be a good lad and tell the others I'm here.” You chuckled as he pushed your hand off of his head before running off to wake up the rest of the small community. This cutoff alleyway was home to many of those who lost everything once Osborn took over. To some of the children here, it was all they've ever known. You protected them with your life, hiding them away from the officers and any of Osborn’s regime that dared come close. Several more children came running up to you, ages varying from four on up. You spotted some of the adults walking up to you as well, weariness perched on their shoulders and decorating their faces.

“Morning you all! I've got enough for everybody, okay? No pushing!” You called out to the kids who tried forcing their way closer to you. Reaching in your bags, you handed out small snacks to the children, grinning as they excitedly took the treats and munched on them. As the kids left one by one, you handed the pans of food and bottles of water to the adults. A chorus of “Thank yous” and “bless your heart” were showered upon you as you dished out the supplies. One of the women, an elderly lady named Rosie, walked up to you then. Rosie was basically the unofficial leader of the small community, making sure everyone was properly taken care of and that the children were properly nurtured.

“Thank you for always helping us, dear”, she utters softly while placing a hand on your shoulder. You smile before it slowly falls, unable to not see how sadness shined in her eyes. Hesitant and uneasy, you look at her knowingly.

“It's Mama Kay… Isn't it…?” You grit, voice solemn and low. Rosie nods slowly, her lips twisting into a frown. Wordlessly, she leads you deeper into the alley. You follow behind quietly, a lump forming in your throat as you pass by the numerous melancholic faces of the people. Mama Kay was the elder, a woman who's temperament ran hot. The first time you met her was before you'd gotten your powers three years ago.

You were getting harassed by an officer, his advancements on you unpleasant and unwelcome. He'd followed you all the way into an alley, cornering you and demanding your full attention. Mama Kay had been the one to intervene, hitting him in the face with a sack of potatoes and kicking him right in the balls. She had quite a lot of energy for an old woman, grabbing your hand and running away as fast as possible from the scene. She was the one to teach you how to stick up for yourself, the one to introduce you to her community, the one to cook you a meal so delicious that you'll never get the taste of it off of your tongue for as long as you live. The only one to learn of you gaining powers and truly accepting you with them, telling you to use them for something greater. Mama Kay was a force to be reckoned with and never tolerated any disrespect. A woman who was respected unconditionally.

The woman before you now was frail, more bone than anything. She laid on a makeshift bed of cloth and cardboard, her breathing faint and barely perceptible. Her dark skin pale, almost gray and stretching over her boney features. The sight was enough to make you tear up. Rosie patted your shoulder before leaving you there, letting you be alone with her. With shaky fingers, you pulled down your mask. A rough, gravelly hum left Mama Kay's lips, withered lips curling up into a strained smile.

“There's my girl…”, she croons, trembling hand reaching over to rest on your own. Tears start to blur your vision a bit. “Sorry, love. Looks like cancer is winning this one. The fuckin’ wanker…” Mama Kay wheezes, smile turning into a scowl before she lets out a soft chuckle. You shake your head, a scoff escaping you.

“Can't believe you've got energy to cuss, Mama”, you grumble as you try to reign in your wobbling lip. The elder lets out a wheeze of a laugh before coughing. Her sputtering alarms you but she just shakes her head and squeezes your hand. You grip hers like a lifeline. When she settles back down, you can see the exhaustion in her. It makes her grip loose in yours, makes her eyes droop low and her breathing heavy. Biting at your lip, you frantically blink away the tears that threatened to surface. You could tell she didn’t have that much time left. A month at best. Mama Kay just sighs and weakly squeezes your hand.

“Can't get rid of my personality. Shit, I still got plenty of fight left in me. I ain't leavin’ you just yet, love. Promise you that.” She smiles and pushes at your arm. “Go on, now. You done seen me. Now go before the sun fully comes up. We ain't the only ones needing help, remember?”

A chuckle escapes you at those words. Of course she'd be more concerned with you helping more people right now. You stay there for a bit longer, despite her feeble protests. You talk to her, updating her on your life and your job. After kissing her forehead and handing Rosie some medication for the others, you leave. Your heart still aches for Mama Kay, knowing that she doesn't have long to live. But, you keep your eyes forward, knowing that she'd nag you to death for lamenting over her situation and not focusing on living life to the fullest.

“Oi! Think I just spotted me a fit birdy!”

The loud yell has a cheesy grin appearing on your face, your eyes rolling as you turn to face the Spider jogging up to you. You feel your heart jumping, leaping into your throat at his close proximity when he finally stands before you. That same tugging in your stomach that you've not quite gotten accustomed to yet. You raise an eyebrow up at him, tugging your jacket onto your shoulder.

“You do know that you don't have to keep walking me home every night, right?” You ask him, a teasing lit to your voice. Spider-Man shrugs and places his hands in his pockets, leaning in a little towards you. It makes your heart flutter just a bit.

“Sure. But then how would I get more of your cookin’, hm? Afraid ‘m a growin’ boy, birdy.” The amusement in his voice is clear, making you roll your eyes again. This was the fifth time he's walked you home from work, nevermind it being the eighth time he's ran up to you in general. For some strange reason, he kept coming back to you, almost like he was searching for you everytime. There was a faint notion that it had to do with whatever peculiar attraction you both had for each other, the connection you both felt undeniable. You both ignored it, though. Tried to will away the gnawing urge to touch and bury yourselves into one another.

There was no way you were going to be this consumed about someone whose face you'd never seen, you thought. Hell, he didn't even know your name yet. Perhaps you should tell him. Or, maybe, this might be the last time you meet with him so there would be no point. You let out a small chuckle at the ridiculous thought, already knowing that it was far from the last time you'd ever meet him. Walking with Spider-Man was easy now, comfortable and almost second nature. He listened as you prattled about dodgy clients that would try to run without paying. A particular story of you purposely messing up a non paying customer's tattoo by tattooing the word “dick” in bold text on their arm has the webslinger practically keeling over with laughter, loud guffaws and shaky gasps leaving him.

“How on earth did you manage that”, he asks while wheezing and trying to reign in his laughter.

“The bastard told me he wasn't paying for my ‘shitty job’ while he was in the chair. Then he goes and falls asleep. He was bloody askin’ for it.” You say, a proud smirk on your lips as you remember the man's screech of rage when he woke up. You had also drawn a picture of said word underneath it, furthering his rage. That was a good day, despite how it had started. Spider-Man lets out a few more chuckles before shaking his head.

“You're really somethin’, birdy”, he mutters softly, so low that you almost didn't catch it. Once you make it home, you warm him up some food and watch as he swings away, your heart no longer pounding in your chest like it always seemed to do when he was around. You go back inside and plop down on your couch with a groan, Lady clamoring up on the couch and laying her head on your lap. You give her a scratch behind her ears as you gaze up at the ceiling, thoughts once again drifting to the webslinger. He was always on your mind now, it seemed. No matter what you did, he always found a way to invade your thinking process.

The sudden ringing of the phone jerks you out of your thoughts and you reach over to grab it off of the coffee table. Pressing the phone to your ear, you clear your throat.

“Hello, Y/N speaking.”

“Oh, good! Knew you'd be up.” You roll your eyes at the voice that greets you. With a tired sigh, you prop your feet up on the coffee table.

“Ugh. What do you want, Reni?” You grumble, clearly not in the mood to talk. As much as you loved your best friend of six years, you weren't exactly in the right headspace to deal with anyone at the moment, your mind still drifting towards thoughts of the Spider that made your heart lurch into your throat.

“Don't be rude. Anyways, there's some new cool band playing at The Underworld on Saturday. I'm picking you up at seven. Wear something hot!” Her words have you stuttering to speak and before you can utter a word, she hangs up. You scowl and fling the phone back onto the hook. There was no getting out of this, knowing Reni. She'd hunt you down and tie you up if you so much as turned your nose up at the idea.

You rub at your eyes, trying to will away the throbbing headache beginning to form before looking down at the pit bull in your lap. She gazes back up at you, tilting her head a bit in curiosity. Pouting, you place your forehead against hers and cup her face.

“I don't wanna go out, Lady. I'm too tired. But, it might help get my mind off of him, right? What do you think…?”

Lady softly nudges her nose against yours and lets out a small yip, like she's encouraging you to go out and have fun. Her tail wags happily, smacking against your arm as she further climbs on top of you. Giggling, you move back and pet her gently.

“Perhaps you're right. I deserve a fun night out. And, truthfully, I am curious about this new band.” With a kiss on the top of her head, you stand up to fill Lady's bowl with kibble. A night out is just what you need. Especially of it helps you think of other things besides Spider-Man for once.

[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 2/7)

PART 2 BAYBEE WAHOOO!! Three more gijinka designs comin right up!

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there’s gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I’ll be linking here when done vvv

(Part One) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) This also contains a small amount of blood on one of the images!!

@saltydkart-reblogs

And that’s pretty much it, designs under the cut!

JOE:

The reason Joe dislikes most bird pokemon such as fletchling is because they're always stealing and pecking at the olives he... or well more specifically his company grows.

Speaking of which, they own a large plot of land which is used specifically to grow olive trees, which of course are used to make the olive oil he sells. What? Did you think that the olives come from Joe themselves? Of course not silly, welcome to capitalism.

That being said, Joe DOES know how to garden. When they first started their olive oil company they had to grow their own olive trees. Nowadays, in their spare time, they'll sometimes be found tending to the olive trees in their company's garden.

His crown is personally tailored for Joe and Joe ONLY. Crafted with the shiniest gold and the richest olives, all fit for a king! Somehow it never falls of his head. (Fun fact: the points are made to look like olive oil bottles)

Joe needs glasses but usually wears contacts when in public. Not that they look bad with glasses, it's just a personal choice.

Joe LOVES being involved in... well, anything! As long as it's not weird or sexual or illegal (that last one counts UNLESS it involves scamming others into buying his oil products), he is more than happy to invite himself into whatever is going on around him. What are you going to do? Stop him? Oh please!

HANNAH Ü:

At the start of her career, she would spend her days doing her own one-man (or.. well... woman) shows at subway stations, telling stories and entertaining other pokemon and people alike while they waited for the next train to arrive.

Her hat and cape are made entirely of salt! She is able to transform her cape and hat into different shapes and usually used this ability of hers to make stuff such as accessories, hats, and props that fit the role she's donning at the time.

Hannah LOVES collecting stickers and often wears them proudly on her body (in her poke form ofc ofc). However, she usually has to get someone else to stick them onto her bc of her lack of actual hands.

Some of her improv roles are inspired by the people she meets while others are inspired by pieces of media she's interested in at the moment.

Will ABSOLUTELY learn a new language if she needs to for a role. Duolingo speedrun world record

MYKYIE:

As stated previously, Mykyie used to be a circus performer before he quit to pursue his dreams. His most popular act involved him spinning plates on a stick while standing on a ball.

^^^ Because of this, he also has really, REALLY good balance.

Mykyie always keeps his Miku glowsticks on him, even when not attending any of her concerts.

"Anger Point" is basically an uncontrollable form of last resort whenever Mykyie is close to death but can still fight, it usually leads to him attacking whoever or whatever caused him great harm (In the instance of Lark, it was when he crit Mykyie and the ladder's health was extremely low.)

The Miku tattoo on Mykyie's arm was designed by Mykyie himself! However, it was drawn on him by an anonymous underground artist who went by many names to hide his true identity. The name that the artist went by at the time Mykyie got his tattoo was "Cl@ir33"

The cuffs and cape that he wears are... well, WERE, red. An unknown force seems to be slowly turning them into a shade of blue.

And that's all the HCs for now! Next Gijinka batch will consist of GrAce, Braidy, and Christene's

Also here's the posterless version of Joe's Gijinka bio before I go

[glassshrew]

I wrote this for @vapolis

Highly recommend you play their game demo, it's an awesome game and the main character can be such a feral trash goblin, I adore them!

I'm obsessed with their character Jax at the moment, and instead of working I've been daydreaming all day. I created this blog purely to post this because I'm too shy to post on my main! Writing is not my strong suit but t his was fun to do. Anyway here's some flirty sexy tension with Jax.

Written with a F!Merc in mind.

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

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You grin at him tiredly, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself as you stand in the club foyer. You’re 100% sure Jax has seen you in worse states but standing in front of his unimpressed stare in nothing but underwear, a cropped gaudy carebear t-shirt and a bloody jacket made you feel more exposed than you ever had. Or maybe it was the way his gaze lingered on your bare legs, or his own half dressed form, hair still damp from an impromptu shower. His appearance unusually sloppy for him. “Jaxxie! New uniform? A little risque. I like it.”  You waggle your eyebrows and for a long strained minute, Jax didn’t reply, a frown on his face like he can’t decide whether to just throw you out or not. “Blood and vomit is more your style.”  

“Gross. True but gross. Sounds like your night was as fun as mine,” You point towards the growing lump and bruise on your forehead. “But my new accessories are cooler than yours.”

He stays silent, and you're forced to confront the sight in front of you that you were trying to ignore. His arms crossed over a dark red shirt that was fully undone, exposing his chest. Your brain helpfully shutting down until it was just screaming incoherent body parts at you. Pecs, collarbones, nipples, tummy. You couldn’t stop your eyes from following the line of his body down to the trail of dark hair below his naval.“Carpet doesn’t match the drapes then.” Fuck sake. You could scream. You swear to god that your mouth was not connected to your brain in anyway shape or form.

His head tilts as he continues to stare at you, but he doesn’t shut you down or even button his shirt and little warning bells start to twinkle in your brain. That ever growing sexual tension between the two of you sparks to life and you suddenly wished you had gone to Delilah for help instead. You couldn’t stop staring at him, his hips moving as he shifted his weight and your perverted brain took over again. If you dropped to your knees right now would he throw you out?  Or would he grip your hair tight in his fist as he -

You jolted as Jax cleared his throat, eyebrow raised. Shit. 

 “Uh right, I know it’s late, or early, closing time? Opening?” You tried to focus on what you were saying. “but I need you.” 

Fucking Christ almighty your stupid fucking mouth.  “Need me?” The corner of Jax’s mouth twitched, he looked a mix between entertained and annoyed.

“Uh no, not th-, you and Orla,” You stumbled over your words, cursing yourself internally as Jax made a low noise in the back of his throat. “help! I need your help, nothing else not that – I -, Is she still here?” You force your mouth shut so fast you almost bit your tongue. Why was it so fucking hot all of a sudden. Were you sweating?

“Yeah she’s still here,” Jax was still staring at you, and he had still made no move to button his shirt. Asshole was enjoying seeing you flustered. “Turn around.”

Turn around bend over be good –

“Seriously? Where exactly do you think I’m hiding a weapon?” You didn’t sound as annoyed as you were hoping for, you sounded a little breathless as your thoughts continued to spiral.

“Rules are rules,” Jax grinned at you, he was obviously enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Turn around, jacket off.”

“Fine.” You are moving to follow before you can stop yourself. Shivering slightly as you shrugged the jacket off, leaving you in your panties and cropped shirt.

It’s silent. You’re just starting to think that this was some sort of prank when his fingers lightly brushed over your wrist making you jump. “Stay still.” 

His hands trail up your arms, not his usual pat down but a slow, gentle touch, caressing you almost. “Are you hurt?”

Your body stiffened. The quiet genuine concern in his voice throwing you completely off balance. His gentle touch making you feel warm, and something else you didn't know how to name. Did he genuinely actually care? A lump starts to form in your throat, and you once again bite the inside of your cheek, hard enough this time to taste the coppery tang of blood, desperate to kill those feelings before they can become a problem.

“Not badly,” you shrugged. You wanted to run but wanted to see where this was going so very much. “Used to it. You know I could just nip in and see her, there’s no need to-,”

“Stay still.”

You cleared your throat. “Yes Sir, sorry Sir.”

Jax froze. Your momentary glee at having flustered him in return is short lived as the hand on your shoulder slid up the back of your neck and through your hair, causing a little flutter of panic in your gut. This was new territory for you both, usually one of you would have backed off by now. You could feel his breath over your skin as he tugged your head to the side, the sensation making your stomach tighten and your thighs squeeze together. “Can't you just shut up for once?”

Your sarcastic reply is lost as your breath hitches when his lips brush gently over the skin just beneath your ear. Its hesitant, but when you make no move to pull away his grip tightens in your hair, pulling your head more firmly to the side.

“I’m not hid-,” You start, and he makes a low warning sound at your inability to shut up, his teeth grazing harder over your skin. “- not hiding anything up there.”

Jax pulls away abruptedly. Disappointment growing in your chest as you realised you’d reached that point again. The point where Jax realises who he’s flirting with,  what he’s flirting with, and shuts down.

“Better things you could do with that mouth than yap all the time.”

You feel like you’ve just been slammed into an alternate universe. Getting lost in the moment is one thing, but jesus Who are you and what have you done with Jax?

He continues his search before you can ask the question, before you can, as usual, ruin the moment. Both of his hands sweeping down your back, pushing into your spine and round to the front of your hips.

“Easy ther-,” You flinched back against him when his fingers pressed a little harder over your ribs. The pain turning into something that drew a whimper from your throat. Jax went still behind you, you could the warmth of his bare chest, and - fucking fuck me sideways-  your brain short circuiting as you realized you could feel him.

“This is cosy,” You let out a breath, voice strained. Does he remember it’s you? The intrusive thoughts slip in, nagging and chipping away at you. He knows its you right? The two of you stand there, his hands holding you flush against him while his cock presses against your ass. The silence lingering for all of a second before the pressure to talk gets too much.

“Bruised, not broken,” You had no idea what was going on, what to do, whether this was actually happening or if you had done more damage to that already fucked up brain of yours. “probably not broken.” 

He hummed in acknowledgment, warm breath over the shell of your ear causing your back to involuntarily arch and he cursed under his breath.

“You're clear,” He lets go, steps back from you and the loss off his body heat hurts. “You can go through.”

 “Right, great. Told you.” you turn to face him, arms crossed over your chest, disappointment and rejection making your heart sting. For the first time in a long time you feel vulnerable. You want your jacket back. You almost, for a second there, genuinely believed he wanted you. A stupid foolish childish thought. Why would he? When you didn’t have anything to offer, when you didn’t deserve it. You’d destroy him, infect him, pull him down into the dark to drown with you. He deserved better. “Catch you on the flipside.”

Flipside? You cringe. You can feel him frowning at you as you grab your jacket off the desk, and you’re tempted to sneak out the little pen knife you have hidden to show him as a ‘ha ha fuck you’ but you don’t. Your heart is not in it. The abrupt withdrawal of his attention has you feeling cold, exhausted all of a sudden. You avoid looking at him as you move towards the door, and he makes no move to stop you as you go through.

[mochaintherain]

Accismus

Summary: You're a treasure hoarder who's stolen the most precious thing in Inazuma: the crown prince, Scaramouche. (GN! Reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

CW: VIOLENCE!!!!! Mutual violence, but like. there's undertones. idk. Reader isn't a good person, Criminal Reader, Antagonist reader, unestablished relationship, a little toxic (given the circumstances), blood, Royalty AU, (Scaramouche whoops your ass.)

A/N: Formatted on Mobile ♡. Sorry I've been away! This was originally meant to be for a larger story but my ass Did NOT finish it so I'm just going to post this lolz...plus, with Fontaine, there is so much potential ( ☆∀☆) BUT FINALLY SCARA FIC! posted at. 3 in the morning :')

Silver to gold.

The raven insignia colored like the brilliant sun would finally, finally, be yours to claim—tangible, indisputable proof of your convictions, ambitions, and desires. If the gods gifted conduits to those they considered worthy, then this coin was more than divine acknowledgment.

This insignia was your Vision, bestowed by fellow mortals.

Because today, you have captured a trophy.

Prince Scaramouche glowered in the chair he was untenderly pinioned to, indigo eyes never once breaking from your figure. He hadn't spoken once since his fateful acquisition, instead redirecting what would usually be a flurry of insults into a piercing gaze, sharp enough to cut flesh.

His yukata—the layers of purple and red silks, once draping his form in nobility, status, royalty—laid disheveled across the ground. The only things remaining before his abduction were the dark juban slipping over his body, along with the necklace made of black and red string, harboring a single, golden feather. The man in front of you, now a mere ghost of what he used to be.

You nodded to your men as they finished the last knots on his wrists, nodding to you, before departing the tent. He tugged at the restraints, grimacing.

"Wipe that damn smile off your lips," he sneered, red eyeliner melting in the crinkles of porcelain skin.

"Oh? So he finally speaks. Hello, your Highness—" you bowed lightly, though in no part due to deference—"how did you know? Was my excitement truly that obvious?"

"Tch. Not even that rag you call a mask can hide your ugly face."

"...wow." A soft laugh bubbled from your throat, and the corners of your lips twitched—up close, he couldn't escape scrutiny. The rumors were entirely true.

His infamous, hot-headed temperament juxtaposed his delicate features.

Even through anger, he was beautiful.

"Get away from me, worm," he jeered, narrowing his gaze.

"I suggest you mind your manners," you chastised, closing the distance between the two of you, much to his dismay, "you have no authority here, and your mother isn't here to protect you. So know your place, Prince." You spat the last syllable, honeyed in vitriol. The feather accessory almost crumbled in your grip as you jerked it forward, ripping a strangled gasp from the man.

"Here, you're as insignificant as the rest of us, got it? Your blood is just as red as mine when spilled."

With your thumb and forefinger, you pulled a little more, the strings protesting by digging themselves into the skin of his neck.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Scaramouche wheezed out, his head craning forward, coughs and laughs mixing into raspy drawls, "please. One blemish on me and your head will be on a pike."

"Hah." Your free hand trailed up the plush of his cheek, fingers resting on the crease of his eye.

"Get your filthy hands off—"

"If that were really the case, if you were so precious—" you smeared the pristine makeup onto his temple, and Scaramouche let out a guttural hiss, "—it wouldn't have been so easy to pluck you out Tenshukaku."

"You—!"

And the necklace snapped.

At that instant, his body tensed and his face contorted into a snarl, teeth ready to snap at your limbs. What little poise he managed to conjure for this ordeal dissipated in a matter of seconds.

How amusing.

"You have no idea what you've just done."

"Why so riled up? I'm sure your mother will get you a new one, you spoiled heir," you hummed, stepping away before his teeth could find your arms, "of course, unless the rumors are true?"

Infuriation overtook his indigo eyes, along with a flicker of hurt…or pain?

"Enough," he barked, "one more word and I'll rip your tongue out myself." The remark appeared almost funny, the way his shoulders shook like a petulant child.

If only you saw past the hilarity, and caught the screech of nail to cotton fiber.

"Tell me," you continued your taunt, waving the feather haphazardly in the air. At that moment, he was more hilichurlian than prince, "is it true you’re nothing more than a prince in name? How much of a brat are you, to be denied your birthright on the throne?"

"You'll regret that," Scaramouche seethed, "do you know who I am? Do you know who you're dealing with?" Every passing word accompanied another shake of his arms. "I'll have you beg for mercy."

"I think you're overestimating yourself," you said, rolling your eyes. "I don't think someone who fell victim to treasure hoarders, of all groups, has any—"

"You talk too much."

A small, misplaced half-smile spread across his countenance as the rope fell behind the chair with a soft thud.

The rope tethering him in place.

The rope with red-tinged ends, allowing him an opportunity to lunge.

You narrowly barreled out the way, too busy swallowing down shock.

“Give that back!” Scaramouche hissed, “that’s mine!”

You clenched the aureate pinion in your fist, ramming your elbow into his side.

“Tch!”

He staggered back, glaring you down. Moonlight peeked from the tent’s entrance, and illuminated his back in a way that made him seem almost holy.

But surely, no angel would be stupid enough to stay where their wings would be clipped. His aggression outweighed his rationality, you deduced, as instead of fleeing, weak sparks of electro spat from his bloodied fingertips.

“Huh. You sawed through your bindings using nothing but your bare hands and energy. That’s kind of impressive.”

“That’s mine,” he repeated, “that’s mine.”

“Is it now? I don’t see your name on it.”

Now on adjacent sides of the tent, the two of you locked into a waltz of frenzied attacks and defenses.

Despite not having a sword, the eventual successor of the Musou no Hitotachi fought as if he embodied the blade. Nimble fists like the wind, he slashed at your frame. He moved with deadly, facile, precision, adorning your skin in small, blooming bruises. Your only saving grace to avoid anything greater was your own adeptness to combat. Each swipe was blockaded by a feint on your end, each kick met with a parry, two adversaries encompassing the other in a cramped space, both sparring for purchase in a hopeless impasse. Static blanketed the air as the assault droned on.

This unnecessary long-winded fight could end the moment your men came to your aid. Is that why he guarded the entrance so fervently?

“You know, one scream from me and you’re done for,” you quipped.

“Hah. I’m not that weak.”

You bit your tongue to avoid spilling out the thought that, no, he wasn’t, and you respected his strength.

“There’s fifteen of us and one of you. Don’t be an idiot, now,” you said, laughing softly, taking a step forward, “we overpowered you once, and—oh, history has a habit of repeating itself.”

His brows furrowed, and he glared at you. “Do it then. I don’t care,” he sneered, a sardonic smile threatening to overtake his face, “I’m sure you’ll sound lovely.” The prince matched your footwork; he was hellbent on taking you down.

You knew that if he was afforded any advantage, you'd succumb.

So began the reprise.

Each hit on your forearms, each returned in equal fervor, each swerve you employed to avoid his kicks, your lungs heaved with short-lived air, the deadlock turning evermore in his favor.

As the dance raged on, your composure waned. Imbalance. Sloppiness. Exponentially labored breaths—in, out, in...in, in, in....

“Hehe. Surely you can do better than that, thief.”

This wasn't just a difference in ability. No, how could someone not grow weary after this long? Scaramouche maintained an imperious grin on his face, never once faltering. It was as if he was inhumane.

Maybe this was the effect of royal blood.

Another stumble meant another loss, another small victory awarded to your enemy...

"Why are you even here? Just give up," he spat, aiming a particularly strong punch to your ribs.

Was he getting faster, or were you slowing down?

You saw it coming. You watched how his painted nails—crimson, bloody—clenched together, how sadism bled into his smile, how it traversed through the air...

It was most certainly the latter.

Air knocked from your system, it was your turn to stagger.

"You're weaker than I thought. How pathetic," he said flatly, shaking his hand off, "how disappointing."

You couldn't breathe. Every attempt to reach for air ended in sharp pains and the dispelling of oxygen in your lungs. That damned rag. There was no point in trying to hide your identity at this point. Already too deep in, the crime too far gone…

You clawed the mask off your face, glaring at your opponent.

"You're the one that talks too much," you gasped out between shuddering breaths, your lips contorted into a twisted grimace.

Amidst your blurring vision and preoccupation with beating the man in front of you into submission, you weren't privy to the shift in his visage.

How his eyes widened, taking in every one of your features.

Disbelief casted onto his expression.

Awe.

That too, unfortunately, left him unguarded.

Scaramouche, for all his capabilities, likely lost the battle when your mask fell, and he caught a glimpse of your true face.

Your desperation drew an epiphany; you didn't want to kill him, but you had to fight back. But what if it killed him? What good was a sale if you had no product? Worthless. But what good was a ransom if no one could sell?

Fuck. It didn’t matter. You were a treasure hoarder. A thief. Bound to scrounge Teyvat for leftovers.

And this Prince, right in front of you?

His life was a prize, and you've always had a propensity for stealing.

That was your ambition. Your talent. Your worth.

You were not going to let that gold insignia slip from your grasp.

Not that easily.

Your fingers ghosted your sash. The miniscule glass buzzed with elemental energy.

“I’ll give you one chance, prince,” you murmured. “Stop this ceaseless fight or else.”

“No,” came his immediate response, eyes flickering from your face to your fist, “I’d be a fool to give up when I’m winning.”

“Then stop while you’re ahead,” you snapped sweetly.

With only another laugh escaping his lips, he suddenly burst forward once more. You squeezed your eyes shut, his form like a bullet in your path.

His skillful fighting captivated your senses, yet you had to resort to playing dirty.

As he drew closer, close enough to touch, he took you off your feet, and you grappled at his robes. The feather fell to the wayside, and the prince jerked his head to follow its descent.

Squeezing the pyro potion with your free hand, you could not keep down your thoughts this time.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

The bottle effortlessly smashed against the small of his hip, the unleashed fire focusing its fury on his defenseless muscles.

You winced, the crackle in the air running up your exposed skin in droves. Pyro and the Electro within him swirled and exploded in tandem.

Scaramouche gasped, breath hitching, shoving you away as he convulsed onto the dirt, sudden twitches of protesting muscles exacerbating his agony. His skin stained with sweat—waves of fire rolled over each pore—and shards embedded into his now bloodstained robes—all while folded on his knees--a pitiful display.

You rose on shaky legs, picking the gold ornament back into your palm. At the very least, you could sell this. His carcass would easily hide underneath the sands of Nazuchi beach.

…

…

…

No.

No, something was wrong.

“How…how are you still conscious?”

Although he was clearly affected, and you witnessed his body overloading, the way his head snapped in your direction, and managed an irate expression, devoid of obvious pain that was there mere seconds ago—fascination erupted inside your chest.

“That’s….that’s mine. Give it back!” The demand lacked the vitriol you expected. Instead, it was coated in a breathy plea. “Please! My...my heart...”

“I…” you were at a loss for words. “T-this?” You opened your hand, and his arm—like an instinct awakened within him—darted out to wrench it from your grasp. But, without the support, his body weight lost to gravity.

“Agh-!” He fell, wincing but his arm never went down. “Anything…anything, but that feather.”

Moonlight flooded in as you stared down at your handiwork. And your subordinates, who carried in the odor of sake, who finally noticed that you hadn’t joined in on their hasty celebrations, ran to pin Scaramouche, yanking his arms behind his back, with metal cuffs this time.

“Boss! Are you okay?”

You only hummed at their concern.

"I don't need attention. Our prize does."

Scaramouche, in his hazed state, did not register the moniker. His body forced into rigidness, exhaustion eating at his strength, he only groaned.

Ambling toward the crumpled man, you kneeled, ignoring how the dull ache of your ribs made itself known. Your men, perplexed, slowly backed away, giving you and him some space. He sighed softly as you pulled him into your lap, knees a pillow for his weary head. Taking his face in your hands, you inspected his pulse.

Nothing. Perhaps it was too weak, or too erratic, and yet he continued breathing; clearly alive. How? You wondered. Expected from someone who came from the Raiden herself. Brushing a stray hair sticking to his face, you smiled down at him. What a precious thing he was.

His pupils dilated at your touch, a shudder ravaging through his body. It ached.

"I'm glad you survived. It would have been a shame," you hummed, engulfing him in your gaze. “Out of everyone I’ve come across, you’re the most interesting.”

“You'll pay for this," he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched his teeth. His words hardly stung. They held no edge.

"Perhaps," you whispered, parting his fist to place the feather into his grasp. "But for now, I win. I dont need this anymore, since I have you."

"You-"

"Hey, has anyone ever told you?"

"H-huh?" Scaramouche coughed again, too weak to do anything but softly huff.

You began to carefully unwrap his juban away.

"What do you think you're—" the Prince gasped, but was silenced with a finger to his lips.

The robe now discarded, you examined the blood painting over his complexion, the glass a mosaic on his figure.

"My Lord, you really do look beautiful in red."

You carefully started removing the shards out of his figure. His blood stained your skin. But he didn't squirm.

Instead, he whispered a promise under his breath, only for his ears.

"When I get my hands on you, and I win..." Scaramouche muttered, clutching his feather in his palm.

"I'm sure you will too."

.

[apollomes-supremacy]

LO Dionysus design 🍇🎭

| Apollo | Persephone | Hermes | Ares | Artemis | Ganymede | Aphrodite | Eros | Zeus |

This will be a long post since Dionysus isn’t a character yet so I had to create him from 0.

The beginning of Dionysus’ introduction started on EP 93 (with Semele, Dionysus’ mother), but it has been more than 100 episodes and we got absolutely nothing from that plot, which is bad considering that other gods get involved in the og myth (Zeus, Hera and Hermes, mainly), but none of them (before and after the time skip) display any knowledge or memory of the event, especially Zeus, who is the one who accidentally kills Semele in the first place.

I already talked about it here, but im 100% sure that the child mentioned in episode 218 is Dionysus. He should be 10 yo right now and he’s the only character (vaguely) introduced who is around that age. Not to mention, Dionysus does have some connections with the Underworld. My main theory is that he will be adopted by HxP and will remain a child for the rest of the series (probably skipping the majority of Dionysus’ myths). And that’s honestly such a waste of potential. So I decided to give my take on him if he was in LO, like the redesigns I did with many other characters.

Design

My main inspo was 60′s and 70′s Hippie fashion, with a lot of patterns, accessories (crystals, evil eyes, beads, rings, etc), loose clothes and a more lazy/cozy look. He’s two shades of purple that split his face, which is meant to represent his duality as the god of parties and joy & god of wrathful madness. Hermes gave him nymph ears to use as a disguise when he was young, but he doesnt want to change them back because he grew up and feels comfortable with them. He has a very androgynous/feminine look, which leads to a lot of people thinking he’s an actual nymph.

In his true form (which can come out voluntarily, but usually happens when the god gets so mad that they are unable to control themselves) he can get really big. Leafs and grapes sprout everywhere, he gets another pair of arms made of plants’ stems and his eyes go full neon green.

Story

His story is very similar to the og myths, with just some small differences. He is born from Zeus’ thighs and goes to live with Demeter and Persephone as one of their nymphs to escape Hera’s wrath. There he starts to question a lot about himself, like his gender and his origins (he doesn’t know he is not an actual nymph), and when puberty hits, his body and his powers go crazy. Its also around that time when he meets and falls in love with Ampelos (and you know how that story ends).

When the wine he creates starts growing in popularity and Dionysus starts getting worshipped by some cities, Zeus decides that there’s no reason to hide him from Hera anymore, so he brings Dionysus to Olympus and reveals the truth, inviting him to become an Olympian. Dionysus says yes without thinking twice, so he moves in and starts to get prepared for his ceremony and his new life.

But there’s a problem. The Olympus lifestyle is way too different from Dionysus’. People are sophisticated, modern and even mean-spirited, while he is the complete opposite. It’s hard for him to fit in and he just wants to go home with the nymphs and satyrs, and he eventually does... illegally.

Personality & relationships

Dionysus is very outgoing and funny. He’s kind to everyone around him (not discriminating against nymphs, satyrs or mortals), but he can get very emotional very fast. He gets easily annoyed, which will prob just result in some unwanted vines around the house and a grumpy look, but the moment he gets mad is when everything falls apart (wrath form). Anger issues + no control over powers = no good.

He sees Demeter as a mother and Persephone and the nymphs as older sisters, while Silenus and the other satyrs served as fathers. His favorite brother is Hermes who kept an eye on him during his entire childhood and still cares deeply for him. He also has an interesting relationship with Apollo, he is very scared and intimidated by him (I understand why lol) but wants to start a friendship. Except for the fact that Apollo already has a soft spot for him, Dionysus is just oblivious to it. Ares is also scary and kinda mean, but he likes Dionysus and cares for him. He’s very indifferent towards Zeus, Hera hates him (he hates her too) and everyone else is pretty neutral, considering he doesnt know a lot of people outside of the nymphs and satyrs.

Powers

Dionysus is a fertility god (which in this universe doesnt mean that much), this means he has powers over vegetation (like Demeter) and mortals’ desires (like Aphrodite). Being the god of madness also means that he can make people so mad to the point of committing atrocities and completely losing their minds. In his true form, simply looking at him can lower your sanity. He also has the powers all the other gods have, like changing forms, cursing and blessing people, being summoned by mortals, etc. 

That’s all I have the energy to write rn. I tried to replicate the LO art style, and honestly I really liked the result! Hope you guys liked it too <3

(Also, Dionysus would be around his 20′s when the story takes place. He is Pansexual and is still confused about his gender but he’s fine with any pronouns).

[theyareweird]

Corpse Party: Yuuya Kizami —Aesthetic

Yuuya Kizami's Character & Personality

Yuuya is the seventeen-year-old son of Seiji and Shiori. He's the younger brother of Kouki (brother) and Haruna (sister). Yuuya is a student of Byakudan Senior High School's classroom 2-4. He likes mirrors and silver accessories. Yuuya's hobby is observing humans. He dreams of raising an amoral society and relieving people's pains. At first, Yuuya is supposedly a protective and strong ally. He's sophisticated and classy with his Japanese pronouns, language, and manners. However, Yuuya occasionally comes across as somewhat blunt and apathetic. Underneath this façade, he's a sociopath. Yuuya has no comprehension of morality, affection, social interaction, or value of life. Violent from childhood, his acts ranged from trying to beat a student to death to mutilating animals. Yuuya has a cynical perception of truth. He firmly believes everyone is hiding behind a mask and lying to him, preventing him from seeing their 'true' personality. Eventually, Yuuya became convinced death would reveal a person's true self. As a result, he lusted to kill those around him. Due to his lack of understanding of others and the world, Yuuya created a false front as a teen. He acts as a loner who prefers to sit on the sidelines and observe while he studies others and their interactions, ironically committing the same type of deception he loathed. Yuuya is extremely egocentric. If people wish to be involved with him, he expects them to put him at the center of things and 'care' about him the way his family 'didn't'. Thus, Yuuya is arrogant. He doesn't hide this trait and even flaunts it in some cases. Having been repeatedly told he'll grow up alone due to his sadistic ways, Yuuya thinks if he's second to none, being alone won't matter.

At Heavenly Host, he attempts to work with his "friends" to escape. However, after a series of deaths and mental breakdowns of several classmates, he concludes it didn't matter how a person dies since they're going to anyway. This justified Yuuya's need to murder those around him. Ecstatic, he put his philosophy into practice, hoping to reveal the inner selfishness in his classmates to finally understand them and himself. However, in Book of Shadows episode 6, bits of pity, remorse and guilt come from interacting with Yuka. Yuuya hoped helping her would give him some means to atone for the terrible things he has done. This indicates he holds some basic understanding of morals and knew what he was doing was wrong to a degree. Yuuya always dreamed of having a younger sibling. Forming somewhat of a complex around this, he's fond towards the thought of having a little sister. Yuuya harbors deep hatred for his family. Specifically, his older siblings, whom he feels are always "lying" by telling him they want what was best for him. Yuuya convinced himself his entire family hates him and his older siblings are always taking attention away from him. His intense and unresolved frustration with being the youngest child, always picked on and told what to do, played a major factor in shaping his philosophy. Yuuya theorized had he had a younger sibling, he may have been able to understand how his siblings truly felt when they said they loved him.

[kirby-souljourney-au]

VOID.!,!

Updated ref sheet for this thing! Sick!! Since they only have one outfit (two if you count wearing nothing at all), their scar map gets to be in the full ref instead of a separate image.

They’re a super story-important character, so I figured I’d start their ref sheet next. Now it’s finished, and I cain get to work on the next one!

All their info & hex codes under the cut, as usual!

(Remember, ArtShield desaturated images it shields — if you’re going to draw them, reference the written hex codes instead of colour-picking! Also, I happened to forget to add a colour to the in-image palette)

Full name: Just goes by ‘Void’

Aliases: ‘V’, Mx. Termina (they hate that one, but Hyness won’t call them anything else)

Species: Draconic Demigod

Planet of Origination: Concept Universe

Age: 734,291,182,089

Height: 7’0”

Gender: Biologically female; identifies as genderless

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs

Sexuality: Aromantic, acespike, pansexual (ish?)

S/O: None

Family: Void Termina (technically), directly related to all Ykka

A creation of Lord Yk, created for unknown reasons; they long abandoned their original purpose after their corruption.

Does not technically have any biological children, but they consider most of their creations to be family. Created the Astral species after the deaths of the Godsisters.

Does’t do much in a work sense, or any sense at all; for the most part, they just laze around in their Shrine or a retreat they found across Whispy Woods’ forest.

Came to Popstar after being purified by Kirby one year ago (or during the events of Star Allies). Has lived there ever since, and does not plan on leaving.

Generally kind, but very blunt and honest, and occasionally experiences strong mood swings causing them to be unusually rude, offensive, or sometimes even violent. They try to be decent, but because of their unfortunate past and connections to Void Termina as well as their current state of corruption, it’s a bit difficult for them to be so.

Spent most of their life aimlessly wandering the Universe before being purified and (in their own words) rescued by Kirby. Since then, they’ve lived in Dreamland, spending almost every day either relaxing or asleep. They’re not exactly a social character, and usually stay out of civilisation, either hiding away in their house (which is actually an old shrine they repurposed and redecorated) or alone on the opposite side of Whispy Woods’ forest, where they found what they describe as a miniature paradise. They occasionally invite Kirby to visit said paradise.

They rarely ever engage in any form of battle, but on the rare occasion they do, they always rely on their literal God-tier Soul Magic. Because of their abilities, they’re believed to be a part of, the twin of, child of, or otherwise related to Ylenik, the Ykka of Soul. It is unknown whether these assumptions are even remotely true, but the possibility is always there.

Hex codes

Body:

#000000 — Nose

#101010 — Edge ‘shadows’

#AE7A7A — Scars

#EE2828 — Eyes (pupils using same colour, layer blend mode Add)

#FFFFFF — Stripes base (using Water brush, noise Clouds - Scale 58% - Octaves max% - Turbulence 70%)

#F4EBEB — Skin / Inner ears

#DFBB9F — Horns

#190631 — Tail base / Neck feathers

#CCA579 — Tail fade 1

#EFE0D0 — Tail fade 2

#270E6C — Tail heart things (idk what to call them)

#FDB280 — Tail spike things (again, idk what to call them)

Clothes:

#232121 — Robe base / Skirt base (ignore the fact that this isn’t on the image palette, I forgot to add it)

#5D0D0D — Skirt inside

#C20000 — Robe heart things

#E11919 — Robe accents / Skirt accents

Accessories:

#E80101 — Earrings 2

#F7BE9F — Earrings 1

#FDB280 — Robe chain things / Horn ring

#F9E9DC — Necklace charm (???)

#F6F2F0 — Necklace teeth charms

Wings:

#101010 — Covert feathers 1 (front/back)

#190631 — Covert feathers 2 (front)

#CCA579 — Covert feathers 3 (front)

#EFE0D0 — Flight feathers (front)

#201C1C — Covert feathers 2 (back)

#332727 — Flight feathers (back)

[extraskully5]

Since Hisui has the only naturally occurring Alpha pokemon and such I'm pretty sure do you even have to deal with poachers who come for the goal of catching the alpha specimens to sell in other regions since foreign poachers wouldn't have that same fear of pokemon?

In my universe, alphas exist in every region, they're just more common in Hisui because it's not modernized and there aren't many humans there. When foreign poachers do make their way to hisui, it's often for the unique hisuian forms.

Hisuian forms, in my universe, exist alongside their "classic" forms. But hisuian forms are much, much older versions of the species that have been around since more ancient times. They are all very close to extinction, especially the hisuian form starters. Their alternate forms essentially evolved to lose traits that made the sought after by poachers.

(Prepare for a yap fest-)

:readmore:

For example, Goodra lost its shell since they were often hunted for the metal in their shells. Sliggoo as well

Samurott's shells and armor was harvested to make weapons, being much harder than it's modern counterpart. While this problem still exists, it isn't as prevalent as people started to lose interest without the unique dark colors it had before. Samurott are also better able to blend into the sand of beaches where they roam and hide.

Decidueye was hunted for its beautiful and bright red feathers that stood out from many other grass types. By becoming more natural greens and wings that can fully cover their white feathers, Decidueye became much harder to spot and less appealing.

Arcanine's fur became much less smooth and much harder to maintain, making them less popular for fur coats. Though it still faces issues of its fur being used to stuff winter coats, blankets, and similar objects. The same applies to growlithe mostly

Electrode and Voltorb weren't particularly poached but rather evolved to loose the grass typing to better survive in more modern areas they'd migrated to. They are the most common of the hisuian forms.

Qwilfish and overqwil often had their spines harvested for weapons. Qwilfish became much harder to spot as its colors changed and its spines were less useful as they got shorter. Overqwil wasn't quite able to make it that far. They are now critically endangered.

Sneasel was hunted for its fur and feathers, popular accessories for royalty. Sneasler was harvested for its claws and is now extinct in the wild. A few trainers in other regions have put together programs to try and revive the wild populations with individuals they'd caught.

Lilligant was never really poached either but was rather much too easy for faster predators to spot and catch. It's flowers were sought after but those would often be shed and people didn't find it worth the time and effort to kill the pokemon for it. It just evolved to have better camouflage to hide from predators.

Typhlosion had a similar issue to sneasel.

Zorua and Zoroark were rare enough to begin with but are now almost entirely extinct in the wild. Their fur is said to be extremely soft and silky. Whether this is true or not isn't quite clear to modern societies. They evolved better illusionary skills and became almost exclusively nocturnal.

Braviary was popular for its feathers but was very rarely caught. They are still very common but extremely difficult to find or catch if one doesn't know where to look (which most dont). The modern braviary evolved from hisuian individuals migrating and choosing to stay in warmer areas of other regions.

Avalugg is just a result of migration, searching for colder places. Hisui had warmed significantly from what they had originally adapted to, the waters especially. Many started to lose the rock typing as they became more accustomed to treading water

[nekodere07]

Grian, the only Bad Boy left Limited Life AU

Heavily inspired from this amazing animatic!

Can also be read on AO3 if you prefer it there :]

When Timmy was out of the death game first, Grian initially thought he’s gonna be fine. That he could manage the sad news since he knows that his friend had always died first in every game, whether Grian was directly responsible or not. It was fine because he still had Joel with him. He could manage it.

Until he heard Joel’s distressed words being cut off midway and a thunderclap accompanying it whilst Grian was too distracted in trying to craft another TNT minecart. Suddenly, the clock tower becomes extremely entertaining as he can only stare and gape at it. The lump is beginning to form in his throat as the memories flood his mind through wild flashing images, reminiscing all his short but joyful time with the boys together.

That time when Joel and Timmy recruited Grian to be the third Bad Boy.

That time when they were making terrible bad boy puns after the mansion was burnt down.

That time when they grind for materials and built the Bad Boys Bread Bridge for hours, only for Joel to push the TNT minecart at the edge in the end.

Killing people left and right (including themselves) by launching TNT minecarts on Skynet 2.0.

Being dubbed as the Family’s cousins and received a carpet that said “good guys at heart”.

Sneaking at the TIES’ base but failing miserably as they couldn’t stop themselves from giggling and almost forgetting their reason of going there in the first place.

Laughing themselves off and created a podcast to past the time as they climbed the ladder all the up to the second bread bridge.

Just pressing random buttons on the floor when he shouldn’t have and accidentally killed Timmy.

Bored himself to death and played Pokemon as he waited for Joel and Timmy to finish their killing spree, only to fail horribly and got themselves killed instead after all the elaborate planning.

Grian and Joel accidentally killing themselves when they fell off the ladder together coincidentally.

Seeing Timmy falling off the edge in slow motion as he could only stand there uselessly.

And then there were two.

Joel’s last words rang in his ears whilst the thunder rumbled, sounding similar to a laugh like it’s mocking him for being unable to protect his friends this time.

And then there was one.

…

Grian clenches his teeth as hard as he can, enough that they might shatter into shards as he scowls at the ticking clock tower.

It’s happened again. This is already the fourth one, yet he couldn’t do anything as everyone around him always die either directly or indirectly by his own hands.

When will this excruciating cycle ever end?

“We look like Men in Black, Joel!”

“Okay, well whatever. We're also in mourning. It's not my fault Men in Black wear suits! You also wear suits at a funeral, Grian.”

“Who wears sunglasses to a funeral?”

“People who don't wanna see- You know, they're crying, their tears are rolling.”

“Bad boys do!”

“Wear them so they don't see you cry.”

“Yeah, but yours are above your head and yours are on your nose. I'm the only one who's hiding my eyes.”

“You're the only one that cries.”

“True.”

Grian’s vision blurs as he reaches for his forehead, lowering his sunglasses to his eyes as the tears start to flow. Apparently, he needs the accessory as well.

From the distance, he can faintly hear footsteps heading his way. As the people stop behind him, he turns around to see Pearl and BigB looking at him silently, brows furrowing in concern.

“Hey, guys! I’m a Nosey Neghbour now.” Grian greets with a lively tone as he strains a smile so wide his cheeks hurt. “Come on, neighbours. Let’s, erm… let’s go back to our base.” He sprints away from what used to be bread bridge as fast as possible, hoping to keep it out of sight from his new allies as he hastily wipes the tears away with his sleeve.

He doesn’t have time for moping around when their lives are on the line. He still has a lot of work to do.

And then there were none.