#Brand Power Rankings

[beingjellybeans]

Red Horse Beer a rising star in the inaugural Kantar BrandZ Top 30 Southeast Asian Brands report

The Kantar BrandZ Top 30 Southeast Asian Brands report has just been released, and there’s exciting news for the Philippines – San Miguel Brewery’s Red Horse has been ranked among the most powerful brands in the entire region! This prestigious ranking covers six Southeast Asian countries, including Vietnam, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Singapore. Whether you’re a beer…

[nilboxes]

The Philosophy of Dr Ratio (Existentialism) and Aventurine (Absurdism)

Philosophy is a highly broad and complicated topic, these are just my interpretations, and I tried my best to make it as clear and concise as possible and to string them back into how it relates to the characters/events of the games.

Dr Ratio, Nihilism, Abandonment by God, Burden of Freedom (Heidegger, Sartre) 

I imagine Ratio’s homeworld prizes knowledge/learning a lot, and naturally because of his intelligence, he was expected to join the ranks of the genius society. Except despite all his achievements even as a young man, Ratio has not earned the gaze. 

When he was not acknowledged even at the height of his supposed success in his erudition and instead was handed a letter from the IPC, it is safe to say Ratio then felt “abandoned” by his purpose (in and relating to Nous) and despite seeking them and their favor. This feeling of abandonment (Heidegger, Existential Abandonment) goes hand in hand with the sudden and unwanted freedom from purpose (Sartre).

Suddenly without purpose, one is shoved into a state of pure freedom. This state of super freedom could be very daunting as the individual who is burdened by this freedom *must* carve a path of their own, or face meaninglessness (Sartre). And as a person who is condemned to this freedom, they must choose for themselves, be responsible for themselves and even the act of not choosing is a choice.

“God is dead” for Ratio, whose purpose (the path of Erudition) has refused him. Not dead in a literal sense, but the relevance of the god and the path that god treads is no longer relevant to Ratio. 

Those old beliefs of scholarly pursuits above all ultimately no longer hold significance to Ratio. He is thus bereft of a predetermined, outlined purpose (Nous’ brand of scholarship) and has to define for himself now what his purpose/existence/meaning must be (again, burden of freedom as outlined by Sartre).

During this, he also realizes how this path does not serve others either and that the Genius’ Societies pursuits are inherently self-serving rather than providing betterment for humanity. Thus again “God is dead”— the established “morality” is not relevant to the reality of the world at present, the “God” is not serving the needs of the world at large (Nietzche).

This is undoubtedly a difficult process. To spend one’s life devoted to a particular framework of belief and to be snubbed by it. So then what happens next, and where does one go from here?

Dr Ratio, the Ubermench and the Will to Power (Nietzche) but Tempered by Universality (Kant)

To be without “God” (ie, higher purpose, predetermined meaning) is to be left with an inexplicably wide freedom that is more terrifying than comforting (Sarte). Without the anchor of acknowledgement and assurance that one’s path is “correct” one now must define for themselves what is the optimal path, and what they define on their own as the greatest good (one’s own morality as defined by Nietzche).

Finding enlightenment (realizing/acknowledging his own potential outside of the gaze of god and adopting the mindset of the ubermench), Ratio doubles down on his humanitarian beliefs that knowledge must serve the betterment of individuals (Kant). To be equipped to think for themselves and be responsible for themselves as they go through life’s challenges and seizes control of their own destinies rather than go along with them (as he did himself). Ultimately, they strive and become the best version of themselves (to become the ubermench).

Dr Ratio asserts “the will to power” (Nietzche) exists in every individual, recognizing potential and capability residing in every person. Hence he is an educator, he believes he can help people reach this potential. One does not need to be a “genius” in order to excel and in order to create good and meaning in the world. One simply has to be equipped with the knowledge and have that will to apply that knowledge and themselves (ie, not being ‘stupid’) for their betterment and then the betterment of all.

Dr Ratio and Universality, Humanity as an End (Kant) 

Dr Ratio believes first and foremost in helping others help themselves more than uncovering knowledge for its sake alone, therefore he believes that the knowledge uncovered must serve a purpose for good rather than be uncovered simply because, thereby adhering to the concept of Humanity as an ��End” or rather the goal, rather than knowledge being the end/goal. This key difference is what sets him apart from the geniuses in the Genius Society, who mostly view knowledge as the end all and be all of their pursuits, Ratio asks what and who it can be for.

This idea is what tempers all of Ratio’s beliefs. Undoubtedly the concept of an ubermench may veer towards seeing one’s self as the shepherd of the weak, being domineering and assertive, Ratio instead asserts that one should strive to better themselves than wait around to be saved or to be ruled by their betters—the geniuses, or others. He genuinely believes in the individual’s capability to think for themselves, to contribute good into the world and thus guide themselves into each individual’s ideal/their potential.

Aventurine and Absurdism (Camus)

Aventurine struggles for meaning in his life, marked by seemingly random and senseless wins because of his “luck” he surely struggles with finding any sort of rationale for his own continued survival—but there is none to be had. This is the core of the absurdism in Aventurine, the senselessness and the indifference of the universe to his feelings and his desires, to use his luck for the benefit of his loved ones, as opposed to the reality of it as his luck merely served himself, sometimes dubiously, to propel him to heights of success that has no meaning because those he strove for this purpose is gone. This is the core of the idea of the absurd, the purposelessness of his circumstances.

To further demonstrate the absurd Philosopher Albert Camus presents to “The Myth of Sisyphus” a man who is condemned by the gods to push a boulder up a hill, and when he almost reaches the top, the boulder returns to the bottom and Sisyphus must roll it all back up again. There is no purpose to this act other than it is done, like Aventurine’s endeavors in the IPC, there is no purpose to his victories, save that he has done it at all. There is no inherent meaning, and this is how he further contemplates the absurd.

To face the absurd/the meaninglessness, Aventurine first arrives at the answer of self-deletion. He does not succeed due to his luck however. And, when he arrives at the crossroads to be able to fulfill this wish or not, Aventurine evidently realizes that exiting from the world does not answer the questions presented by absurdism (as he doesn't choose this in the end) because it is merely a “give up” state, to end one’s meaningless life is not the answer to its emptiness at all. If there is no destination to be had in one’s journey, stopping the journey may be one of the solutions, but it doesn’t lend it an answer, it is not anything but an end.

Therefore as Sisyphus is condemned to push the boulder up and down again, a task that does not contribute anything to greater causes or anything but instead of despairing and/or creating one’s meaning, the story asks readers to imagine Sisyphus happy, to revel in the meaninglessness and eschew having to have meaning in order to be fulfilled altogether, effectively walking towards and embracing the meaninglessness.

The game never fully explores what conclusion Aventurine arrives at, yet at the end of 2.2 he decides to go on (with a little nudge here and there) even without getting the answers he seeks. He asks “Are we living just to die?” and perhaps through his journey arrives at a little conclusion that one lives to live, and to simply go on is enough and thus begins a bit of his philosophical indifference—that nothing ultimately matters and that is beginning to be just sufficient enough of an answer. 

Aventio as Philosophical Parallels

Ratio’s philosophy is all about discipline and creativity, shaping one’s own values and living a fulfilled life through them. There is a rigidity in this way of thinking that meaning must be made and pursued because it is out there. And he can take away meaning from it with as much as he wants, because he is actively shaping this meaning. It fits his character as someone who always stands apart and walks a lonely path. 

Aventurine’s extrapolated path in the absurd on the other hand ultimately frees him from any shackles to meaning that he so desperately wants and thus the concept of values will also be thrown away. A person who embraces this supreme indifference is also inextricably free from anything and thus exists in a state of chaos, living for the moment and living simply for living. Fitting for a man who sees himself in a gilded cage.

Each individual character represents an answer to difficult questions about existence itself, and there is no real right or wrong way to go about it. 

I doubt the intricacies of their situations with their aligned philosophies will be fully explored in the game itself so I like to think despite Ratio being a teacher, and thus would pull Aventurine into his brand of dealing with existential crisis, he also recognizes that students must come to a conclusion on their own and when he realizes which conclusion Aventurine has come to, would be approving, but also somehow reel him back in from exercising too much of the value-lessness of the absurd. (In 2.3 he is shown expressing some concern about Aventurine being on this path, to be so free and so uncaring as to begin to be not exactly a conscious being any longer) 

While in Aventurine’s case, he can also be the teacher in this regard and open a new path to Ratio where he can appreciate the vastness of the freedom he has, and imagine himself happy to be in this position, ultimately purposeless and futile as it is in the grander scheme of things, but meaningful to himself.

This has been very long, but I just wanted to outline and share a little about the many ways Aventurine and Dr Ratio are built and written to complement each other in the ways their characters were built up at least in a philosophical sense. I really may have missed a bunch of stuff, but I hope the gist is there!

These videos helped me a lot regarding Camus—

Why shouldn't we commit suicide? - 8bit Philosophy

How to live in a meaningless world - Unsolicited advice

[weepinwriter]

Road to Heaven is an 18+ Dystopian fic which takes inspiration from popular media like the “Shatter Me” series and “Hunger Games”. It may contain distressing content like major injury to the characters, character deaths, blood, gore, body horror, amnesia and optional sexual content. More specific warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.

You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth.

Within the grim confines of Tartarus, you have been branded as the most dangerous criminal, feared yet hated by both fellow inmates and prison authorities alike. It becomes clear to you that in order to survive and unravel the enigma of your past, escape from this formidable penitentiary is imperative. However, achieving freedom will not be an easy feat, as you must navigate treacherous encounters with some of the most malevolent criminals known to humanity. In your quest for freedom, you find yourself entangled in complex relationships with three significant individuals. Firstly, your cellmate, whose icy demeanor suggests a deep-seated disdain for your very existence. Secondly, your best friend within the prison walls, whose seemingly excessive friendliness may harbor ulterior motives. Lastly, there is the warden, whose overtly amicable nature masks a peculiar familiarity with your past. As you navigate the perilous labyrinth of Tartarus, your ultimate objective is twofold: to survive amidst the most notorious criminals and uncover the truth about your forgotten past. In a world where danger lurks at every corner, you must tread carefully, for the path to redemption and self-discovery is riddled with uncertainty and perilous choices.

Fully customize your MC. Choose your pronouns, sexuality, appearance and more. Take control of your interactions with the characters and experience the world of Elysium City through a personalized scope.

Romance one of the 7 RO’s, and if you are charming enough, fall in love with any two of them. The four possible poly routes available are: The Cellmate and The Friend, The Warden and The Master, The Protector and The Master, The Cellmate and The Rebel

Struggle against the evil that wants you dead and uncover secrets about yourself

Accept your identity as an Esper and rediscover your powers, or completely reject them

Master your ability of Conscious Manipulation and perhaps learn a few things about yourself unexpectedly

Choose to make allies within Tartarus or antagonize them. Your choices have consequences

Lead a dying rebellion against the Hightable or join them as an equal

There are a total 7 romance options, each with their own personality and a story along with dark secrets for you to uncover

Survive

1. The Cellmate [f/m] | Enemies to Lovers

Subject Name : Twenty

A palpable enigma surrounds the inexplicable disdain they harbor towards you, leaving you to ponder if your past misdeeds have sowed the seeds of their ire. Your questions remain unanswered, rarely do they grace you with a response, and when they do, it arrives veiled in hateful glares and a tapestry of venomous words. The origins of their animosity remain shrouded in silence, with fellow inmates mirroring their reticence. Only when they are complaining about the prison's wretched conditions and the Warden's despotic rule do they momentarily shed their icy facade, revealing hints of vulnerability and human emotion. When they do smile, albeit rarely, it is a fleeting moment of breathtaking beauty. If only you could find the courage to tell them that.

[ Number 1579 is an S rank Arcane Tendency Esper with the Cryokinesis ability. They are under Libra’s Jurisdiction, and thus only follow orders coming directly from them. ]

Other Tropes : Emotional Scars, Nobody thinks it’ll actually work, Hate Sex

2. The Warden? [m] | ???

Subject Name : Nikita

There is an uncanny familiarity surrounding him, leaving you torn between the unsettling grip of dread and the elusive allure of desire. He claims to know you personally. Apparently the two of you were close friends before The Incident. Yet, when you press for details, he skillfully redirects the conversation before your emotions can catch up. "The past is but a fleeting shadow," he says, "no need to talk about something that can't be changed. Besides, you wouldn't remember anything." Evidently your memories had been erased. The question of who hangs heavy in the air, but his response remains enigmatic, offering only a mirthless smile.

[ Nikita is the Warden of Tartarus, the Reformation Asylum in Sector 10, 8th District. He is under Scorpio's jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Slowburn, Betrayal, Puppy play

3. The Friend [f/m] | Friends to Lovers

Subject Name : Victor (m.) | Vanessa (f.)

A compassionate and devoted companion, V. shines as a beacon of light in the desolate depths of this grim abyss that became your world. From the moment you opened your eyes, they extended a helping hand, guiding you through the labyrinthine complexities of Tartarus and easing your transition into this unfamiliar realm. Unfazed by the venomous whispers that tarnish your reputation, they remain steadfastly by your side, unwavering in their loyalty. Their warm smiles and whimsical wordplay serve as a balm, mending your wounded spirit after every bitter clash with Twenty. How fortunate you are to be blessed with such an illuminating presence, brightening the shadows that consume your existence.

[ Number 1339 is an A rank Catalyst Tendency Esper with the Illusion Manipulation ability. They are under Scorpio’s Jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Partners in crime, First Love, Good people get good sex, Slight yandere

4. The Count/Countless [f/m] | Forbidden Romance (relationship history can be friends with benefits)

Subject Name : Emir (m.) | Evara(f.)

A remarkable visionary and an exceptional entrepreneur, E. stands as an unrivaled figure in the illustrious realm of Elysium City. Holding the distinction of being the youngest Grandmaster in history and amassing unparalleled wealth, they reign as the CEO of the renowned Quinn Industries. E. is adorned with numerous titles within the esteemed echelons of society, serving as an icon of inspiration and a beacon of hope, while simultaneously arousing envy in the hearts of many. An arrogant and proud individual, their ugliness is conveniently covered by their astonishing fortune, combined with innate brilliance, seems almost mystical, as if destined for greatness from their very birth. Within Elysium City's grand social tapestry, few possess the persuasive prowess to sway the decisions of the Hightable itself, yet E. stands tall even among this select few. As an eligible bachelor, their daily inundation of love letters and marriage proposals is a testament to their allure. And yet, amidst all this splendor, it is you who has found a place of interest in their extraordinary life.

[ E. is a part of The Senate and thus does not fall under any District's jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Belated love epiphany, Billionaire, Power play, Daddy/Mommy kink

5. The Master [f] | Forbidden Romance

Subject Name : Leo

In her calculated pursuit, you find yourself ensnared. Your allure captivates her discerning gaze, for you possess what she desires most. You are the coveted object of her desires. In this strategic game, you are but a pawn, a possession within her calculated grasp. Yet, curiously she maintains a measured distance. Her reason? She eloquently articulates, “Witnessing the growth of one's possession is a fascinating phenomenon.”

[ Leo is the Master of {DATA REDACTED}. They are the Ruler of the 5th District. ]

Other Tropes : Secret Identity, Second Chance, Blood play, Begging

6. The Protector [m] | Bodyguard Romance

Subject Name : Caesar

A battle-hardened soldier, Caesar bears the scars of a lifetime spent serving the FAE and the city. With an intimacy unparalleled, he has danced with mortality on numerous occasions, making death a companion rather than an adversary. Yet, behind that facade of strength, Caesar is a fractured soul, haunted by insecurities and a self-destructive nature. His journey, filled with shattered dreams and the weight of his daughter's aspirations, has brought him to the edge of despair. The immortality he once embraced now feels like a curse, a harbinger of misfortune that has become synonymous with his presence. In his eyes, he sees himself as not a protector but a bearer of ill fate. However, the stars, in an unexpected alignment, have granted him a final purpose: to protect you. Beneath the intimidating exterior lies a gentle giant, yet one plagued by a profound sense of self-loathing. He grapples with the belief that his very existence is a catalyst for tragedy, a vortex that draws calamity toward him and those he holds dear. Intrigued by this complex guardian, you see the duality within Caesar — an attentive and understanding individual burdened by the weight of his own perceived malevolence. As you navigate through the intricate layers of his psyche, perhaps you could help him ease his suffering, even by a little.

[ Caesar is a registered S rank Endura Tendency Esper with the Regeneration ability. He comes under Leo’s jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Beauty and the Beast, Single parent, Stop calling me daddy

7. The Rebel [f/m] | Enemies to Lovers

Subject Name : Gael (m.) | Gwendolyn (f.)

You betrayed them. Or perhaps it's the other way around? You do not remember. The trust you once held dear has been shattered, and now you must face the price for your misguided beliefs. Like a fool enchanted by deceit, you must bear the weight of your choices. Remember this lesson, for betrayal's toll is a heavy one to pay. Proceed with caution, lest you become ensnared in the web of your own treachery.

[ There is no known information on this individual. Extreme caution is recommended. ]

Other Tropes : Amnesia, Revenge, Redemption, Breathe play

Links

[ DEMO ]

[ PINTEREST ]

[ THE DISTRICTS ]

[ THE HIGHTABLE ]

All asks and reposts are welcome 😁!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“Brand safety” killed Jezebel

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library this Monday, November 13 at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

Progressives: if you want to lose to conservatives, all you need to do is reflexively praise and support everything conservatives turn into a culture-war issue, without considering whether they might be right. Because sometimes…they're right.

Remember early in the Trump presidency, when conservatives all woke up and discovered that America's spy agencies – excuse me, "the intelligence community" – were dirty-tricking psychos who run amok, lawlessly sabotaging democracy? Progressives have been shouting this ever since Hoover's FBI tried to blackmail MLK into killing himself:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FBI%E2%80%93King_suicide_letter

But millions of progressives forgot about COINTELPRO, CIA dirty tricks and CIA mass spying when this "intelligence community" temporarily set out to wrong-foot Trump. Remember James Comey votive candles?

https://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/2019/08/30/james-comey-fbi-memo-leaks-trump-inspector-general-report-column/2157705001/

Anthropologists have a name for this phenomenon, in which one side reverses its positions because their sworn enemies have done so. It's called schizmogenesis, and it goes like this: "If they hate it, we love it":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/18/schizmogenesis/

Schizmogenesis is an equal-opportunity delusion. Within living memory, white evangelicals supported abortion, because their sworn enemies – Catholics – opposed it. Some of those white Boomer women who voted Trump because abortion was literally the only issue they cared about held the opposite position on abortion not so long ago – and completely forgot about it:

https://text.npr.org/734303135

The main purpose of the culture war isn't immiserating marginalized people – that's its effect, but its purpose is to distract low-information turkeys (working people) so they'll vote for Christmas (the ongoing seizure of power by American oligarchs). For the funders of conservative movement politics, the cruelty isn't the point, it's merely the tactic. The point is power:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/09/turkeys-voting-for-christmas/#culture-wars

Which brings me to "woke capitalism." Conservative string-pullers have whipped up their base about the threat of companies embracing social causes. They (erroneously) claim that corporations have progressive values, and that big business is thumbing the scales for causes they despise. The purpose here isn't to sow distrust of capitalism per se. Rather, it's to stampede talk-radio-addled supporters into backing the oligarchy's agenda. Remember when culture war leaders told their base to support being gouged on credit-card junk fees "to own the libs?"

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

That's schizmogenesis working against the conservative rank-and-file, tricking them into taking the side of a cartel of wildly profitable payment processors who are making billions by picking their pockets (credit card fees are up 40% since the covid lockdowns), because (checks notes), Target pays these profiteers a lot to process its payments, and Target sells Pride merch (no, really):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

It's easy to point and laugh at conservative dopes when they're tricked into shooting themselves in the balls to own the libs. This is not a hypothetical example:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/28/holographic-nano-layer-catalyser/#musketfuckers

But progressives do it, too, particularly when they embrace monopolies as a force for positive social change. Remember 2019, when people got excited about playing loud pop music at Nazi rallies in the hopes that the monopoly video platforms' copyright filters would make any video from that rally impossible to post?

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/07/23/clever-hack-that-will-end-badly-playing-copyrighted-music-during-nazis-rallies-so-they-cant-be-posted-to-youtube/

I warned then that if this tactic worked, it would be used by cops to prevent you from recording them when they're macing you or splitting your skull with a billyclub, and yup, within a couple years, cops were blaring Taylor Swift music in hopes of preventing the public from posting videos of their illegal conduct:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/07/moral-hazard-of-filternets/#dmas

Conservatives are (partially) right about woke capitalism. It is a threat to democracy. Concentrating the power to decide who gets to speak and what they get to say into the hands of five or six corporations, mostly run by mediocre billionaires, is bad for society. The moderation decisions of giant platforms are a form of (commercial) censorship, even these don't violate the First Amendment:

https://locusmag.com/2020/01/cory-doctorow-inaction-is-a-form-of-action/

(The progressive delusion that censorship only occurs when the First Amendment is violated is a wild own-goal, one that excuses, for example, the decision by school book-fair monopolist Scholastic to remove books about queers and Black and brown people from its offerings as a purely private matter without consequences for free speech):

https://www.themarysue.com/scholastic-response-to-authors-and-illustrators-on-diverse-books/

Conservatives are only partially right about woke capitalism, though. Here's what they're wrong about: corporations don't have values. Target isn't selling Pride tees because they support progressive causes, they're selling them because it seems like a good way to increase returns to their shareholders. Individuals – even top executives – at Target might endorse the cause, but the company will only durably support the cause if that endorsement is profitable, which means that when it stops being profitable, the company will stop supporting the cause:

https://www.cnn.com/2023/05/23/business/target-lgbtq-merchandise/index.html

The idea that corporations have values isn't merely stupid, it's very dangerous. The Hobby Lobby decision – which allows corporations to deny basic health-care expenses for women on the basis that a Bronze Age mystic wouldn't approve of an IUD – rests on the ideological foundation that corporate personhood includes corporate values:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burwell_v._Hobby_Lobby_Stores,_Inc.

Citizens United – the idea that corporations should be allowed to funnel unlimited funds to politicians who'll sell out the public good in favor of investor profits – also depends on a form of corporate personhood that includes values:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Citizens_United_v._FEC

There are undeniably instances in which corporate monopoly power benefits progressive causes, but these are side-effects of corporate power's main purpose, namely: taking money and power away from working people and giving it to rich people. That is what monopoly power is for.

Which brings me to ad-tech, "brand safety," and the demise of Jezebel, the 16 year old feminist website whose shuttering was just announced by its latest owner, G/O Media:

https://www.metafilter.com/201349/This-is-the-end-of-Jezebel-and-that-feels-really-really-bad

Jezebel's demise is the direct result of monopoly power. Jezebel writes about current affairs – sex, politics, abortion, and other important issues of great moment and significance. When we talk about journalism as a public good, necessary for a healthy civic life, this is what we mean. But unfortunately for Jezebel – and any other news outlet covering current events – there are vast, invisible forces that exist solely to starve this kind of coverage of advertising revenue.

Writing for the independent news site 404 Media, reporter Emanuel Maiberg and former Motherboard editor-in-chief Jason Koebler go deep on the "brand safety" industry, whose mission is to assist corporations in blocking their ads from showing up alongside real news:

https://www.404media.co/advertisers-dont-want-sites-like-jezebel-to-exist/

Maiberg and Koebler explain how industry associations like the World Federation of Marketers' Global Alliance for Responsible Media (GARM) promulgate "frameworks" to help advertisers automatically detect and exclude real news from consideration when their ads are placed:

https://www.peer39.com/blog/garm-standards

This boycott makes use of scammy "AI" technology like "sentiment and emotional analysis" to determine whether an article is suitable for monetization. These parameters are then fed to the ad-tech duopoly's ad auction system, so Google and Meta (who control the vast majority of online advertising) can ensure that real news is starved of cash.

But reality is not brand-safe, and high quality, reputable journalistic outlets are concerned with reality, which means that the "brand safe" outlets that attract the most revenue are garbage websites that haven't yet been blacklisted by the ad-safety cartel, leading to major brands' ads showing up alongside notorious internet gross-out images like "goatse":

https://www.404media.co/sqword-game-dev-sneaks-goatse-onto-a-dozen-sites-that-stole-his-game/

More than a fifth of "brand safe" ad placements end up on "made for advertising" sites, which 404 Media describe as "trash websites that plagiarize content, are literally spam, pay for fake traffic, or are autogenerated websites that serve no other purpose than capturing ad dollars":

https://www.ana.net/miccontent/show/id/rr-2023-06-ana-programmatic-transparency-first-look

Despite all this, many progressives have become cheerleaders for "brand safety," as a countervailing force to the drawdown of trust and safety at online platforms, which led to the re-platforming of Nazis, QAnon conspiratorialists, TERFs, and other overt elements of the reactionary movement's vanguard on Twitter and Facebook. Articles about ads for major brands showing up alongside Nazi content on Twitter are now a staple of progressive reporting, presented as evidence of Elon Musk's lack of business acumen. The message of these stories is "Musk is bad at business because he's allowing Nazis on his platform, which will send advertisers bolting for the exits to avoid brand-safety crises."

This isn't wrong. Musk is a bad businessman (he's a good scam artist, though). Twitter is hemorrhaging advertisers, notwithstanding the desperate (and easily debunked) stats-juking its "CEO," Linda Yaccarino, floats onstage at tech conferences:

https://www.techdirt.com/2023/10/11/math-problem-for-linda-yaccarino-if-90-of-the-top-advertisers-have-come-back-but-are-only-spending-10-of-what-they-used-to-how-screwed-are-you/

But progressives are out of their minds if they think the primary effect of the brand safety industry is punishing Elon Musk for secretly loving Nazis. The primary effect of brand safety is killing reality-based coverage of the news of the day, and since reality has a well-known anti-conservative bias, anything that works against the reality-based community is ultimately good for oligarchy:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reality-based_community

We can't afford to let schizmogenesis stampede us into loving things just because conservative culture warriors have been momentarily tricked into hating them as part of oligarchs' turkeys-voting-for-Christmas project. "Swivel-eyed loons hate it, so it must be good," is a worse-than-useless heuristic for navigating complex issues:

https://locusmag.com/2023/05/commentary-cory-doctorow-the-swivel-eyed-loons-have-a-point/

A much better rule of thumb is "If oligarchs love something, it's probably bad." Almost without exception, things that are good for oligarchs are bad for the rest of us. I mean, this whole shuttering of Jezebel starts with an oligarch imposing his will on millions of other people. Jezebel began life as a Gawker Media site, beloved of millions of readers, destroyed when FBI informant Peter Thiel secretly funded Hulk Hogan's lawsuit against the publisher in a successful bid to put them out of business to retaliate for their unfavorable coverage of Thiel:

https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2018/02/hogan-thiel-gawker-trial/554132/

This, in turn, put Jezebel under the ownership of G/O Media, who are unwilling to pay for a human salesforce that would – for example – sell advertising space on Jezebel to sex-toy companies or pro-abortion groups. G/O has been on a killing spree, shuttering beloved news outlets like Deadspin:

https://deadspin.com/this-is-how-things-work-now-at-g-o-media-1836908201

G/O's top exec, an oligarch named Jim Spanfeller who answers to the private equity looters at Great Hill Partners, is bent on ending reality-based coverage in favor of "letting robots shit out brand safe AI-assisted articles about generic topics":

https://www.msnbc.com/opinion/msnbc-opinion/ai-articles-disinformation-future-g-o-media-rcna95944

Three quarters of a century ago, Orwell coined a term to describe this kind of news: duckspeak,

It was not the man’s brain that was speaking it was his larynx. The stuff that was coming out of him consisted of words but it was not speech in true sense: it was a noise uttered in unconsciousness like the quacking of a duck.

When investors and analysts speak of "content" (rather than, say, "journalism"), this is what they mean – a warm slurry of platitudes, purged of any jagged-edged fragments to render it a perfectly suitable carrier for commercial messages targeted based on surveillance data about the "consumer" whose eyeballs are upon it.

This aversion to reality has been present among corporate decisionmakers since the earliest days, but the consolidation of power among large firms – ad-tech firms, online platforms, and "brands" themselves – makes corporate realityphobia much easier to turn into, well, reality, giving advertisers the fine-grained power to put Jezebel and every site like it out of business.

As Koebler and Maiberg's headliine so aptly puts it, "Advertisers Don’t Want Sites Like Jezebel to Exist."

The reason to deplore Nazis on Twitter is because they are Nazis, not because their content isn't brand-safe. The short-term wins progressives gain by legitimizing a corporate veto over what we see online are vastly overshadowed by the most important consequence of brand safety: the mass extinction of reality-based reporting. Reality isn't brand safe. If you're in the reality based community, brand safety should be your sworn enemy, even if they help you temporarily get a couple of Nazis kicked off Twitter.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/11/ad-jacency/#brand-safety

[leftoverghosts]

humble myself before you

obsessed crown prince!art x manipulative lady!reader or, what i wanted to write for my prince!art bot, but c.ai would ban me!

warnings: nsfw!! cunnilingus (i have a thing for men kneeling and reader pulling up her skirt right now and wanted to write it for art too)!! reader calls him a child, but it is meant as a derogatory term. curse words. not beta read.

happy new year!! we didn't make it not!! one!! day!! without smut!!

Art didn’t stalk you like a predator hunting its prey; no, he moved like a storm orbiting your sun, always close, always yearning.

And you noticed him—not as a threat, but as something to wield.

You spoke, and he listened with a devotion that bordered on madness. Your dismissive smiles and fleeting touches unraveled the malice within him, leaving only an unrelenting fervor he couldn’t name.

It consumed him, this need to matter to you.

He sought you out in every silence, in every passing glance. Every word you uttered became his law, every fleeting gesture a promise he ached to fulfill. Every dance, his last. He would break kingdoms, burn cities—fall to his knees, weeping—if only you’d give yourself to him.

“I love you. Tell me how to prove it.”

In the dim light of your chambers, you couldn't hide your annoyance as Art knelt before you. With a mother's tenderness, you ran your fingers through his thick hair.

As you leaned in to kiss his forehead, your expression softened. "Why should I give orders to a man with no real power?" Your voice was cool and biting, contradicting the gentle gesture. “What would my orders surmount to, your highness? You are but a mere child, wanting after your father’s throne. The King’s bastard will likely inherit the position.” Your face twisted up into a grimace thinking of what the kingdom would be like under Patrick’s rule.

Art's jaw flexed, his features contorting with the pain of your words. The kiss on his forehead felt like a branding, a mockery of care.

"A child?" He repeated, his voice strained. He looked up at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of defiance and need. "I am more than just a child. I am my father's rightful heir, not Patrick. Everyone acknowledges this."

A part of him wanted to jerk away from your touch, but he couldn’t. He craved it, even as it stung.

"Hmm," You stared down at him, but moved away after a moment. "Leave me now, I have important matters to attend to."

The refusal hit like a dagger to Art’s ego.

He had expected—no, hoped—for you to say something different. Something that would validate his belief that he was more than a pawn in your games.

Instead, you dismissed him like some low-ranking retainer. It made him want your approval even more.

He almost obeyed you, nearly stood up to leave. But then he remembered: he was the crown prince, and no woman would treat him with such disrespect.

"No." He remained on his knees, glaring up at you. "Not until you answer me."

You turned and looked at him, his defiance only adding to your amusement. "What trivial question are you begging for me to answer, your highness?"

Art flinched at the ridicule in your tone, a muscle twitching in his forehead.

"I am not begging," he all but snarled. "I am not some meek little supplicant. I am the future of this Kingdom. And I want—" He broke off, unsure what he wanted. Your attention? Your approval? Or something more, something he could not name.

Your lips twisted into a sardonic smile. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he struggled to hold onto his arrogance even as your rejection cut him deep.

"You want." You echoed his words scornfully. "Like a child who wants a toy. You do not know what you want, only that I do not offer it to you."

You glided fowards, your eyes never leaving his face. "Have you considered that I do not offer because you do not deserve it?"

He leaned towards you as you grew closer, like a flower towards the sun. Yet, the insult sliced through him, sharper than any weapon. No one had ever spoken to him like this. No one had ever dared. Coming from you, the words landed like blows, not because of their truth, but because of his own need for you.

"I deserve it," he forced out, his voice raw. "More than anyone."

With one hand you palmed his head again, and with the other, you lifted your nightgown until the most intimate spot between your legs was bare to him. Pulling him forward, he gave little resistance as you cruelly rubbed his face upon your center.

“Your bastard brother sent a little thief in the night to steal from me.” Your tone was warm as you watched him mouth at you, “and yet you could not even catch that small, little mouse. Now, you beg for orders as if you could complete them?”

He trembled beneath your touch, torn between shame and an aching need to please you. He had wanted you to notice him, to praise him. To give him your affection, your time. But instead, you dismissed him as unworthy, castigated him for his failure and then made him this offering. A humiliation that was a mockery of everything he had ever thought.

And he loved it.

He mouthed at you, as you commanded, his tongue tasting you. He was at your mercy, his pride in tatters around him. You were all he could taste, all he could smell. You engulfed his senses, and yet, you were still out of reach, untouchable to him.

"I can," he gasped, his words broken by his ministrations, "I can—I can do better. I swear. Whatever you want. I will do it if you just—"

He wanted to say it—to beg it. Please, my lady. Notice me. Praise me. Love me.

His self-control—the hard shell of arrogance he spent all his life cultivating—crumbled beneath you, reduced to nothing but dust. For the first time, he was vulnerable, open and raw. But in a way, he felt free. He was lost in you, drowning in feelings he didn’t know he had, didn’t know he could feel.

And he never wanted to leave this place. He wanted to worship you, serve you. He wanted to be the only one who could taste you like this.

“Stick out your tongue.” You commanded, your pupils were blown so wide that your eyes resembled a dark void.

Art looked up at you through wet lashes, his tongue coming out, slick and pink. It was a sight that would have seemed obscene on any other day, but now it was something else entirely.

And the taste of you, the sweetness and salt so close and yet so far, was like heaven.

He had been hungry for a lifetime.

He didn't know it until then. Until you. You had filled a part of him he never knew was empty. And yet he was still starving.

“You do not have the King’s ear. You do not hold any significance of power. Your reputation is in tatters. This is all you are good for.” You worked yourself against his mouth, moaning as he pointed and flattened out his tongue to please you. “You are nothing and no one until you sit upon that throne.”

Every word was a lash of a whip, stinging his pride, his ambition. And the worst part of it all? He didn't care.

He would have given up his entire legacy for this, for you. He'd forsake the King, the throne, his half-brother, if only you would look at him with something other than scorn in your eyes.

Art devoured your sex with a feverish desperation, his tongue lapping and probing as if his very life depended on it. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room as he slurped and suckled your folds, nose buried in your musk. His eyes rolled back in bliss, lost to the headiness of your essence.

He licked broad strokes from bottom to top, flicking over your sensitive pearl before delving deep inside, fucking you with his tongue. His lips sealed around you as he sucked hard, cheeks hollowing.

Glossy with your arousal, his chin and cheeks glistened in the low light. Saliva dripped down his neck as he feasted messily, uncaring of anything but your pleasure.

Moans vibrated against your core as Art rutted mindlessly against the air, his cock straining in his breeches. The friction provided no relief, only stoking the fire in his blood. His world narrowed to the heat of your cunt, the intoxicating flavor that coated his tongue.

His own need was secondary, an afterthought compared to the compulsion to bring you pleasure, to worship at the altar of your body until you were satisfied.

He looked debauched, wrecked— a prince brought low by desire and the need to please, to serve. He could live happily here, suffocated in your heat. There was no greater purpose, no higher calling, than to kneel at your feet and sup from your core like a man dying of thirst. In this moment, his title, his birthright, his very name meant nothing.

He was reduced to a simple creature of want, and all he wanted was you—for you to praise him, look at him, acknowledge him. Your moans were like music to his ears, his only purpose to draw more from you, to make you say his name.

Please, my lady. Say my name. Say it like you mean it. Like you have thought, even once, about me.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper into your heat. His worship was exquisite, every pass of his tongue sending shock waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

"Yes," you gasped, grinding yourself against his nose. "Use that royal tongue for something useful for once."

Art redoubled his efforts at your command, licking and sucking with a single-minded focus. He could feel how close you were, his only reward the little hitches in your breath and the trembling of your thighs around his head.

He wanted to be good for you, to make you come undone. To hear his name fall from your lips in ecstasy.

As if reading his mind, a low moan escaped you. "Yes, just like that Art."

His name on your tongue was electric, sending a jolt straight to his straining cock. He groaned against you, the vibrations making you gasp and arch into his mouth. Pride swelled in his chest at the reactions he could draw from you.

Your pleasure built higher and higher thanks to Art's relentless ministrations. The slide of his tongue, the obscene slurping sounds, the tickle of his hair between your fingers— every sensation was magnified, overwhelming in its intensity.

"Close..." you panted, words failing you as the crest approached.

He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue in a frenzied rhythm.

That was all it took.

With a sharp cry, you shattered, exploding against his eager mouth. Waves of rapture crashed over you, your body convulsing with the force of it. Art lapped at you greedily, extending your high.

As he knelt there, panting and strung tight with unspent lust, he continued to tease you through the aftereffects, gentling his touch but unwilling to pull away. He cleaned up every drop of your release like it was the finest nectar, savoring the taste of your pleasure.

Finally, you pushed him back, chest heaving as you caught your breath. Art remained kneeling before you, hair mussed, face glistening with your spend. He looked thoroughly fucked, blue eyes dark with need, lips swollen and slick.

In that moment, with the high of your climax still singing in your blood, you almost felt something for him. Almost. A flicker of fondness, perhaps, for this desperate, devoted thing.

But it was gone as quickly as it came, doused by the cold reality of who he was. The spare prince, the unwanted son. Too timid to rule, unworthy of your true regard.

You laughed, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. "You really think you are worthy of me? A lowly prince who cannot even control his own desires?"

Your words were cruel, but your fingers were gentle as they traced the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw. The contradiction made his head spin, made him ache in ways he couldn't describe.

"Please," he whispered, the word a prayer on his tongue. He had never begged for anything in his life, but he would beg for you. "I can be worthy. I can be what you want me to be."

"And what is that, exactly?" You asked, your voice like silk against his skin. "A loyal dog, panting at my heels? A puppet, dancing on my strings?"

He shuddered at the images your words conjured. Part of him recoiled at the idea of being reduced to something so base, so subservient. But another part, a deeper, darker part, thrilled at the thought of belonging to you so completely.

"Anything," he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to hurt. "I will be anything for you."

Your laughter was like the tinkling of bells, beautiful and contemptuous all at once. "Such pretty words from such a pretty mouth. But words are wind, your highness. And I have no use for empty promises."

You pulled away from him then, and the loss of your touch was like a physical pain. He swayed forward, chasing your warmth, but you stepped back, leaving him bereft.

"If you want to prove yourself to me," you said, your eyes glinting in the candlelight, "then you will have to do more than kneel at my feet and beg for scraps."

He looked up at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "What do you want me to do?"

Your smile was a wicked thing, full of dark promise. "I want you to become king, I want you to bring me the crown."

For a moment, he couldn't breathe. The crown. His father's crown. The symbol of everything he had ever wanted, ever dreamed of. And you wanted him to steal it for you.

"I cannot," he said, his voice hoarse. "It is treason. If I am caught—"

"If you are caught," you interrupted, your tone sharp, "then you will prove yourself to be the worthless child I always knew you were."

The words burned, but not as much as the disappointment in your eyes. He would do anything to banish that look, to see pride and approval in its place.

"I will do it," he said, his jaw clenched with determination. "I'll become king and bring you the crown. And then you will see. You will see that I am worthy of you."

You smiled then, a real smile that lit up your face like the dawn. "We shall see, your highness.”

[iznsfw]

Manic Robotic Dream Girl

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 4 - Choi Yena

IZ*ONE's Choi Yena x Male Reader Smut

8,311 words

Neon lights dance like flames around you. There’s no need to touch them when you’re already burning. Burning with something that’s not a fever but a kind of pain that never goes away. 

Sweat pricks the sides of your face and you’re aware of the blots of perspiration running down your jawline. Nights at the Rogue are often hot, but then they surprise you with a sudden burst of windiness, so you never bother to take your coat off. Whatever and wherever, you’ll always be here yet you’ve not once been able to predict the temperature.

That’s what happened when WAKE12 took over. 

Apparently, they decide if people are under the weather by controlling it by them-fucking-selves. Kwon feeling shitty? Looks like rain then. Maybe she’s feeling happy? Alright, let the clouds find balance. Angry? Take a fucking hailstorm. What a privilege, one bigger than the lives of the rich men in the North. But everyone forgets about that fact after she sends out minimal alms—canned goods, a Bible, something. Then it’s back to President Kwon is the best! President Kwon can never fail us! President—

“Vodka.”

“Same as yesterday?” asks Yuri, smiling a little bit. 

“Same as yesterday.” For a hologram, Yuri can be quite the social butterfly. 

Online wallets are all the rage nowadays. The AI voice in your head offers you said option to pay, and you can hear your balance privately spoken. Somehow your brow prevents from creasing as you hear it. You lack funds but somehow have a few extra bucks to drink. 

Choose that. You want to save your Wizes for other things. Lock eyes with Yuri and your balance goes down. You’ve paid. 

Online and digital wallets modified with embedded signals and readers were in use before you were even born. Of course, there were already such payment options in the twenty-first century, but how WAKE12 changed everything, not just ordering options with telepathic payment, can easily be read in a sixth grade history textbook. 

In October of the year 2918, Kwon Eunbi rose in the ranks as a scientist and soldier for Kang Hyewon, former president, and ended up working her way into dictatorship. The textbooks and classrooms teach that she proposed a law to the court and got herself a position for her wit and intelligence. But early first accounts challenge that, saying that she caught the eye of Kang and had a sexual relationship with her. WAKE12 branded this as propaganda that sullies the name of not only the dictator but the one of the late president, who died mysteriously before Kwon rose to power.

Massive backstory for cashless payment, but you know there’s more to it than the government would like to let on. What happened to Kang? What made Kwon so evil the moment she sat in her presidential throne?

“Thank you, sir.” Holograms all have different voices; Yuri’s sounds like she’s singing. At least the bartender slash boss hired her instead of those with monotone, emotionless ones. It’s cheaper to have hologram workers than humans anyway. Less money, less emotional labor, less of feeling like a normal person.

A beggar curled up below the counter holds his hand out. Not an uncommon sight in the Auster, but it’s a pity to see. The world has advanced with its telepathic wallets and 3D holograms yet there will always be individuals who haven’t caught up with time. While the North Rogue leads worldly lifetimes, the Auster is a home for the rejects. The poorest of the poor. The somewhere-in-the-middles. It can never be truly a perfect world if advancement doesn’t include everyone.

Give him a Wize. Back then, that would have been worth a hundred or so dollars, a currency long gone. Not that you’d know of it; WAKE12 claimed leadership way before you were born so the cheap value of the coin studded with the bust of Kwon Eunbi is all you’re accustomed to. 

Take your drink and thank Yuri. 

The cobblestone is rough beneath your feet. You take your seat at your usual table. Float your fingers around your shotglass. Pour the contents down your chapped mouth almost all in one go. Anything to feel something. Anything to feel anything. 

You’re not an alcoholic by any means, though that’s certainly up for debate. But there’s a need for the liquid that rages more than the need for oxygen (the fucking shortage of it) or food (the fucking expense of it). How else could you be less numb? You’re welcome to every feeling at this stage, just not this empty neutrality that slumbers your senses.

Pain? Your throat seizes up when you drink and brings tears to your eyes, so there's that. 

Happiness? Hm, none. You’re barely smiling. You’ve no family, little friends, and no partner for the last few years. There’s nothing to be happy about.

Anger? The displays of people fined harshly for their crimes on the big as life advertising screens stir some defiance in you. WAKE12 doesn’t take kindly to hacktivists and young coders dabbling in creating their own AIs. You have your own anti-government opinions, but what’s a human mind against an artificial one? Plus, and probably a less serious reason (tell that to the thousands who flock to the hospitals because of asthma), the air is almost always polluted here in the Rogue. It’s dirtied by car smoke and factory remains. You’d think that robots taking over the labs would improve it. Perhaps they weren’t programmed that way. 

Loneliness?

You look around. See the glitching phantoms of new world technology make the drinks breezily. Watch the light-studded train filled with commuters from the Auster. Kwon Eunbi managed to build an underside track for additional trains to run and still the commuters—young students, old grandparents, not young but not old workers whose jobs belong to WAKE12—wear the same tired look you saw yesterday. All you could hear are buzzes and uncanny valley voices from holograms.

The second chair paired with your table is empty. You’re suddenly lucid to the fact that it’ll always be like this. These nights of drinking and walking in the Auster Rogue will be endless, and just the same, you’ll be endlessly alone.

Sometimes mortality could be so depressing.

So depressing that it makes it all so meaningless.

A man stumbles over to the outside bar, breaking your thoughtless reverie. His clothes are as black as the night you spend but you can see blood on the fabric. The skyscrapers provide enough light for you to see his red face from anxious internal and worrying external blood. The pleading look grips his expression like a malfunctioning robot’s limb. 

He’s looking back as if afraid of what might be there. The rain-soaked road is tread on roughly by his shaking knees as he crawls his way to the bar. “Please, help me!”

“Warning,” comes the voice in your head, and you know the other visitors hear it, too, “a criminal of the state is in your proximity. Proceed with caution.”

WAKE12 always keeps an eye on those who threaten them. They have goons everywhere. The kindly grandfather down the street could be a veteran waiting for the chance of a medal. They have ears everywhere as well. Undercover cops stay in both crowded and clear spaces to identify possible threats. When it all comes down to it, you’re not safe in your own head at all. The implants can detect when you dream up something terrible. That’s how millions lose their reputation. Their jobs. Their families.

Their lives.

He staggers to the counter, crashing glass that shards his palms, and lets out this wail you’d hear from an abused pup. “Please,” he croaks. “Don’t listen to them. I just need somewhere to hide. I did nothing wrong, nothing!”

The implanted voice in your brain says otherwise. Everyone was given one when the Cyber Age came. That’s what makes a tiny difference in seeing who’s human and who’s not: the tiny, diamond scar below their hairline from the operation. Close inspection can’t always be done, however. Nowadays, too many of these robots and holograms pass the Turing test. You can never truly trust someone.

“Offenses include: playing the role of an accomplice in theft of government data, distribution of terrorist propaganda—”

“Get the fuck out!” says the bartender, having burst out from the back. As a longtime visitor, you haven’t seen him this angry, but you know it stems from fear. No one wants to associate with a criminal. No one wants the association to lead to arrest and the arrest lead to god knows what. Hundreds of people go missing after they’re taken under custody. What Kwon does to them, you don’t know. “Leave or I’ll call the cops!”

Like you said, they lurk everywhere. You’re surprised they haven’t caught up to him.

The bloodied man shakes his head, like please, please, someone believe me. “No, I’m not a criminal! Listen to me, please, I don’t have enough time! They just wanna—cut down” 

Rapid footsteps. Sigh and put your glass down. There they are.

The man reaches for him, but the bartender shoves the whole table into his face. He falls back on the ground and cries out for help that never comes. Men and women wearing tight black uniforms and vests pull him up. Their lit helmets that opposingly disallow a view of their faces make them look emotionless. Like robots.

Huh.

While resting your head against the metal chair, you listen to the struggling shuffles of the police and criminal, and see the glitching robots walking down the road. No real emotion, no real living.

He scratches and screams and sobs, but that doesn’t matter to them. They pull him along the rocky cement and recite his nonexistent rights to him. There’s the right to remain silent (he’s screaming), the right to an attorney (nobody in the Auster can afford a good lawyer much less an honest one), and the right to live freely if found innocent of the crime (someone getting convicted happens more often than being released).

Besides, it can’t be called living when it’s in a place so completely devoid of any humanity.

“In more ways than one,” you say. Fuck it, you’ll drink to that.

-

Like always, you take more than you should. You believe by now you’ve built some kind of immunity. That’s what they all think, you remind yourself, before an inevitable death that buries them in the ground one bricked shot at a time. You swear you’re not dizzy at all or feeling the acid build to your throat, so the sight gathering just a little away from you is real. 

Stare at your glass. Space out if not for what you see: behind it, a shapely form of a woman in purple. The blue and violet lights make it difficult for you to distinguish it from her clothes so she actually looks naked. That shocks you more than the arrest. You’re sure she’s got a little modesty in her because why else is she making her way to a table?

Your table?

It’s like she teleported when she’s suddenly seated before you, filling the chair that’s been empty for the last more or so years. You don’t even get the chance to look up at the right time, but the moment you do, you think keeping your eyes on your glass would’ve been better for the sake of your heart.

YENA.

Her name appears in your mind and she hasn’t even introduced herself. But it’s right there, emblazoned in lights in all capitalized four letters: YENA. This girl is Yena. And this girl—this fucking guilty pleasure of a girl—is gorgeous.

The ends of her hair are tinged with blonde, and it’s hard not to give attention to that with how her locks are gathered into twin tails. She smoothes them before looking at you quite seriously, like she’s about to propose a challenge you’d lose.

Blue shining eyes. There’s something odd about the way they twinkle below her bangs—almost like something not human. 

Yena dances her fingers around her jawline, elbow resting on the table, and tilts her pretty face. Lets her fingers play with her lips that are made for things the Auster’s known for providing (she can’t be from here though; those crocheted coordinates look costly). That’s how you notice that fine feature. Naturally thick and casually jutted out in a distinctive pout, your eyes are glued to them. Can’t take your prolonged stare away if someone helped you. 

“Are you waiting for me to start talking?” Yena asks. She’s not angry, just amused—her voice is smooth and clear, with a tiny pitch that makes her all the more cute. 

You shake your head. “Was just trying to figure something out.” 

“And that is?”

“A lot of things,” you state. Things you’d keep a secret forever, lest you spill them out to a girl all for the payment of being beautiful. “But I’m not sure pretty girls like you would want to know.”

You try to keep your curious peering at her normal, but it’s difficult when she just attracts attention. She’s a glowing lightbulb in a flutter of moths. Yena doesn’t flicker weakly; she shines, and it’s honestly why everyone else is “subtly” looking at her, this gorgeous stranger who came in and somehow chose the alcoholic who came from places more rock bottom than the Auster.

She laughs. It’s sobering—you think you’ll get drunk on her rather than the cheap alcohol. “Is that what you think of me? Too beautiful to think too much?” 

Look her up and down. Yeah, you want to say, that’s about it. It’s not out of offense but rather the instinct in you that wants to tell her you don’t want to put her in a worried state. She’s too… ah, she doesn’t know what you’d do for a girl like her—someone too unreal to be human but too genuine to be the “living” dolls lonely men purchase. Someone who can keep a conversation going without fearing a low blow. Someone who’s out of your league in the Rogue’s mixed pool but chooses you anyway.

“I’m just saying you might not want to hear a stranger boring you with his hard problems.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving it off with a flick of a pointed wrist. “You know my name. I know yours. We’re not strangers anymore.”

How did you—how did she—

Her eyes twinkle again. They’re… violet? You could have bet they were blue. But then you see the suspiciously smooth and clear skin, with the perfect lines of her eyelids, which curve as if manufactured in. She’s definitely not human. 

“Besides,” adds Yena sweetly, “you’re really underestimating how good I can take certain hard things.”

Swallow. You opened the door, now you’re locked in. 

Yena catches the bob of your Adam’s apple and smirks. Traces her fingers over yours. She can’t be human for sure yet you feel the softness of her hand, the only thing giving you doubt being how chilled her touch is. It's humid here, so where did that come from? Goosebumps pop up in masses across your skin—note how nothing shows up on hers.

Maybe she’s just a confident woman.

“Come on, I dare you.” 

“Only if you go first.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says. A cutesy saluted hand positions itself before her temple. Her hands are tiny, could be dainty, while her cheeks lift to support an adorable smile. 

Your knees tremble. You don’t know where that came from either. Yena just knows what to say to get to a guy. Almost like she was made for it. There’s that question again, resurfacing in your altered brain: is she human or not?

You lean back. Cross your arms. Here you go, on your way to find out. “What’s your story?” 

Yena shrugs, her shoulders bare and smooth. And you’re thinking of how you’d like to see the rest of them, the rest of her body naked by pulling down the crocheted strap of the purple coordinates. How you’d like to touch those puffed up cheeks and not care if they’re real or not when you pull her close to kiss her. How those lips—

“Don’t have one.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs. Even the way she giggles is attractive.  “No, seriously,” she replies, licking her lips. “There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m the most normal girl there is.”

There is nothing normal about her. Everything she says is too prepared. The largeness of her eyes gives everything away. Her hair is combed too finely that you’re not unconvinced that it isn't human hair at all, though you can see them connect at the roots. It’s like someone drew a cute animated girl on a notepad one lonely night, sent the idea to a rich bastard, and brought her to life.

So no, you’re not buying it.

“So you’re saying you’re just a blank canvas.”

“If you put it like that, I guess.” Yena rolls her eyes. You’re a bit obsessed. “Guys want that, right? A blank piece of a girl they could shoot more than a shot at? Maybe paint her white?”

You’re thankful you didn’t continue drinking. Otherwise, your surprise would be visible and audible with the lodge of your throat as you wineboard yourself.

The side of her mouth raises. A soft dimple exceeding cuteness—it’s deeper, brighter, shinier. You imagine her as a college student, charming boys into submission just with a wink and a smile that can melt hearts and bring guilt to lust-addled minds. 

That’s what she’s doing: Yena is melting you because of how adorable she is, but then you take a look at her body, note the fine curves it boasts, and feel the need to go to a confessional pastor. You’re not supposed to repeats in your mind, but you’re you—if you aren’t supposed to do it, then of course you’ll do it anyway.

“Woah,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Woah.”

“Look.” She rests her forearm on the table and talks so casually one would think she weren’t just talking about getting cumshots. “I‘m not taking that back, so do with that what you will.”

Under the table, behind the scenes, her leg is curled around one of yours. Her ankle glides along your skin teasingly. Not a speck of hair on all of those flawless legs, but you’re shivering anyway from the contact. Hence, make a show of closing your coat around yourself. You can’t fool her when it’s not even chilly.

Recover, piecing together the brokenness of your confidence she tore apart.

“My story is, uh, weird.”

“Tell me.”

“This might be too personal but—” You lift your shoulders awkwardly. “I used to date a girl who looks exactly like you.”

Kim Chaewon—short auburn hair, soft cheeks, and a tiny figure. She’s a memory you didn’t think of returning to today, but then Yena came here, and now you’re back to your youth.

“She was a cop. Cutest officer I’ve ever seen, but a real bitch, for the lack of a better word. Then she left me.”

“You broke her heart, didn’t you?” 

Sputter. “No!” you immediately deny, shaking your head. “I—I didn’t hurt her, she was—”

A filthy lie. You became nonchalant, undeserving of a sweet woman who’d do anything for you, even give up her well-paying job. Again and again, Chaewon expressed her concerns: why were you talking to Minju? Where have you been? Why are you so mean? You disregarded them all the same. She deserved the ignorance; she was too fucking controlling, too fucking jealous.

Yena knows you’re lying. It’s like you’re a wound she can peel back to see all the ugliness, all the damage underneath. Her smile tells you everything.

“Oh, come on. I don’t care. Except for this.” Yena intertwines her fingers. Rests her chin on top of the formed platform. “Was she a good fuck?”

Your laugh is forced, trying to make a good deal out of this situation. A girl is flirting with you right after you saw someone disappear. Now you’re wondering if she’s a robot. Now, through some way, she knows you’re lying about your ex. Coincidences meet yet you refuse to connect them—parallel lines they shall stay, forever. 

“Yena, what exactly is up with you?” you ask. “You just met me. And come on now, why me?”

It’s begun to be hotter in this space. Loosen your coat. Perspiration isn’t because of the atmosphere, so you find out (and what a surprise). It’s because of the woman across you, a midnight sun. If the painful sun was actually a symbol of good in the Rogue, Yena would play its role perfectly. She’d scorch through you and you’ll enjoy every second. Yeah, you’d get all sorts of tans and burns and cancers if you bask in her without protection, but my god, are you willing to take the risk.

“I just don’t like seeing pretty boys have problems,” she replies easily. “If they want, (and I know they do), I’ll take them all away. Soon, all you'll think of is me. Like I’m the sun peeking in your room and you just can’t get enough sleep because of it.”

You tense up. Millions of questions, a void empty of answers. Once again, how was she so spot on? You’re not breathing quite well, and your clothes are tighter tonight. “Yena, look, I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Don’t be, not because you aren't, but because she said so.

She pouts. “You’re not gonna buy me a drink?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nope. Remember what I said? I’m a blank canvas. So do whatever you want with me. Buy me a drink. Or not. Tell me to fuck off. Or not. Force me on my knees.”

Yena kneels.

There’s no mantle on the table to cover up what she’s about to do. You gasp, then try to mask it as a poor cough, but you’re distracted by how she pulls your pants down effortlessly. The button sealing your coat is busted open and gone.

So is your dignity.

Yena’s tongue sticks out at the side of her mouth as she looks up at you with excitement and mischief in her eyes. 

“Or let me do the job. I’m a big girl after all.”

She seals her teeth around your zipper and tugs down. It’s embarrassing how hard you are for her. But Yena doesn’t care. Adoration is clear on her face as she stares at your shaft, the worshipful energy in her eyes so overwhelming that she has to do something about it.

“Yena—” What a way to go out: screaming a stranger’s name.

You knew those lips were up to no good the moment you saw them. She’s provided evidence, too. Her soft lips embrace your boner and suckle fervently while dragging themselves upwards. It’s a caress that tenses you up rather than comforts you. It works you up, tying you down with the little weight Yena has. You could kick her away right now and tell her to go away. File a case against her. 

You don’t.

The joined duo of careful teeth and wild tongue gets you whimpering. Shivering. Begging. How is she so good at this?

Her mouth is perfectly wet. It’s not copiously soaked to have you cringing but the perfect balance of wet and ready, coating your rod again and again. She gives you too much and just right. It would be a cruel violation if you were asked to choose one and only one.

“Baby, what the fuck—” you stammer. 

Her throat’s an expert in taking you because one push of her lips to your base welcomes you in its tight hole. Your knees shake; Yena places her hands on it, not to stop their trembles but for leverage during the dip of her head. 

Close your eyes, look up, and stare at skies that provide no reprieving stars. Think of how she’s infinitely bett—

“Better than any pussy, huh?” Yena asks. The third time is no coincidence, so you’ve heard. “And it’s just my throat.”

At this stage, you don’t care if she’s a robot or not, because either way, that mouth is a fucking treasure.

You lift your hips and start slowly working yourself in Yena’s face. Her lips pucker and pout to allow you inside with pleasurable friction. Those eyes—there aren’t any planets in the sky because of the pollution but you think you can see their sparkle in them. 

The amazing part is that Yena doesn’t choke. She endlessly takes you in, receiving every inch like a blessed gift, but you don’t hear her wheeze. No sounds of complaints escape her. You have a feeling it’s not because of your cock sliding in and out of it. She only gags on occasion, and those already sound fake. It’s like she’s doing it just so you can get worked up hearing her moans.

While others might be impressed, you’re dumbfounded. She tightens and loosens and pushes and pulls just for your pleasure. 

“Yena, I– you’re doing so good,” you compliment her in gasped breaths.

Her cheeks hollow. The suction strengthens and it now feels like your soul’s being swallowed down her neck. She knows how to tease you with light pandering from her teeth, generous licking, and strengthened swallowing. Her mouth is warm but you are more so. She’s making you feel hot in all these layers, an additional one played by her perfect lips.

Perfect hair, too, you note.

Hungry impulses take over your body and now you’re pumping your core into the girl’s face with the help of her pigtails. Yena’s hair is thick and silky, and it’s another enjoyable factor: feeling how it slips between your fingers and how each pull directs her lips to press firmly to your crotch.

She doesn’t gag with that either. She must have had a lot of experience; she did say she can take hard things fine. That is, if she were human. If not, whoever built her had dirty ideas: the lack of gag reflex surely brings in the five star ratings.

Bright star-like eyes, cute ruinable face, mouth that can take the largest.

Yep, perfect.

“Good—fucking—girl.”

Your cock weeps white. Yena feels the first drop and immediately pulls away. She pumps your shaft with a strong, urgent fist. As she hinted, you blast all over her face. Your orgasm grips you and shakes you like never before, and of course, the little brat enjoys it. She’s nearly laughing.

“There,” says Yena after she drains you. Her duck-like lips are sticky with cum. “Canvas painted.”

What a pretty painting you’ve made. Here, shown to the public, is the manic pixie dream girl, semen on her chin to symbolize how each word she utters has you climaxing; hair disheveled to show your subtle but messy rule over her, because you own her although you weren’t there when her mechanical limbs were assembled and her face drawn; and a smile on her face to show that despite all this: she likes it.

You laugh, short blunt breaths wisping in the air. “There really is something wrong with you, Yena,” you say.

She’s a girl who’s extremely pretty, good at blowjobs, and likes public sex and oral. She can also read minds. Oh, and she might not be real. 

“You could say that again.” She wipes her mouth. “Though I do think I could use a little fixing from you.”

-

You take her home. Your mother would have been disappointed in you if she knew you violated the first law you were ever taught: don’t talk to strangers. Most of all, don’t ever let them in. But Yena is no stranger—like she said, she knows your name and for some reason, you know her own. You’re not strangers. And your mother isn’t around to command you not to kneel for a pretty girl.

This home of yours isn’t fancy, but if people from 2024 saw it, they’d be mesmerized. You’re not rich enough to afford the penthouses the North offers; this one is alright for you. The stories of the building aren’t aligned with each other, separating a few yards with floating floors that defy gravity. That’s right; WAKE12 somehow found a way to disobey the rules of physics. The ends are lit up with bright lights that blind you from miles away. Wide windows encircle the areas along with al frescos and convenient malls. Back then, this would have been classified as the house of the wealthy—you can’t say you agree with the sentiment when you’re not at all rich.

“Hi,” says Yena brightly at the front desk. She’s so smiley, always grinning like she’s just told a really clever joke. “Where’s the elevator?”

“I, uh…” 

The manager looks at her oddly. Your ears redden; she still hasn’t cleaned her face up. Evidence of your deed lies there on her nose and chin and cheeks, even in her perfect hair. 

“Well?”

The manager lifts the phone immediately. Before he could dial a number, Yena sighs loudly. 

“Look.” She silences the telephone with a slam of the device down on the keypad. The man’s hand cringes. “I’m about to fuck this guy’s brains out and I promise your little backup bosses can’t do anything about it.”

He stares at her. 

“I’m gonna use his dick until it’s limp as a balloon, then ride him in bed, then bend over on the kitchen table so he could breed me like a common whore.”

You lift an index finger to apologize, but put it back down. Did she just say you can breed her?

His jaw tenses. The teeth behind those unsmiling thin lips grit, not in annoyance but in fear. Yena’s bouncy and sweet, but apparently she’s excluding people who cockblock from her cute attitude.

“So,” finishes Yena, lowering her gaze, “where is the fucking elevator?”

The elevator has no pulley or doors. It sits at the side of the uneven floors and rises with nothing but a sizable pod. You’ve had to watch your weight to be able to enjoy the freedom from staircases. 

Yena steps on it with no worry. As you look at her, you realize how positively tiny she is. That’s why she isn’t doubtful about fitting in the claustrophobic space. Her violet clothes can slip off at any time at her pull of a waist and slim thighs. All the fullness goes to her cheeks, painted with fake tattooed stars and minimal doodles. 

She’s the kind of girl you could just pick up and do whatever to. You’re the kind of guy who really, really likes the idea.

Holding your hand is a thing of the past. Yena clutches your cock over your jeans as the elevator lifts the two of you up. 

The first thing she does the moment you enter your home is not kiss you, or slam you to the door, or whisper dirty nothings in the hollow of your ear. Yena looks around and says, simply, “Doable.”

You chuckle. You’re not offended. It’s a tidy, minimal apartment with glass that spans a viewing pleasure of the artificial forest and the hills. Glass lost its value but skyrocketed in purchases when Jo Yuri, first activist recorded in the history of WAKE12’s domination, was imprisoned. People compared her name to glass (yuri was 유리 and 유리 meant glass) and since then, it has been used everywhere. High demand, low price. Her symbol and namesake is used the way the public wants her to be used: cheap thing convenient only to the eye. They always said she was too pretty to talk too much.

“Here, doable is the best compliment,” you reply. You go to your bedroom to clean the place. If you want to fuck a rich girl, make sure the bedroom is at least up to her standards. “You have personal maids there in the North?”

Yena continues looking around. She’s mildly fascinated by everything, especially in the big window placed on the ceiling that lets stars peer down at you. For some reason, all the ejaculation on her face is gone. You don’t remember her bringing a washcloth.

“I’m not from the North, you know.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. I don’t come from anywhere.”

You come out, having cleared your bed from clothes and the floors of trash. You fed the trash to the connected chute that all apartments have, which leads down to the Southern Auster. The word may be Latin and is already defined as south, but there’s places poorer than the part you live in. You’re lucky to be here. The Southern Auster’s where it’s much more dangerous. The people there scavenge for food and money, and their cries go unheard in the night. It’s the biggest criminal capital of the Rogue.

You come out and Yena’s sitting on the kitchen table with a knife.

Stop in your tracks. 

See the blood running down her arm. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says dismissively. “It doesn’t hurt.”

You still don’t know what to say. The wound on her skin’s dissolved to a scar that looks more like a scratch on metal. Why would she do that? Why would that do that?

“In fact, I think it’s kind of cool.” Yena slides the blade on the strap of her top. It falls apart, right down to her braless chest. A pink, perky nipple is clear in the moonlight shining from above. “When people see me, they usually want to hurt me, so I might as well do it myself, right? They want to slap me, pull my hair, choke me. They say that and figure I’m totally flattered.”

You want to say that you couldn’t blame them. Yena’s got this innocent but naughty aura about her that you want to completely ruin. There’s her hair, all dolled up and her quirky makeup that brings attention that eventually switches down to the body she doesn’t bother hiding. 

But it looks like she’s doing the ruining. Aren’t those the best stories? Boy corrupts girl when it’s the other way around in reality? 

To use the word “reality” when you’re with Yena is laughable. She can read your mind like a Rogue Times newspaper. You get that things you thought were impossible have a chance of happening in these days, but you don’t remember wounds healing that fast. The knife slices right through the fabric, revealing swoon-worthy curves of her waist and hips, making her bleed only not for too long. Who would want a scar-ridden skinny girl anyway?

“Well,” you say after a dutiful swallow, “are you?”

Yena examines the knife. Her crimson blood dripping from its edge is a worthwhile watch while she considers this. 

She finally puts down the knife, much to your relief. “I don’t know. What about you, handsome? Do you want to hurt me or fuck me?”

“I… I’m not like them. I don’t wanna hit you or make you cry or anything. I want to fuck you, that’s completely different.”

First confession of the night that didn’t need saying when it’s clear. You let her blow you in public. You took her home. The intention is staring you in the face: you want to have sex with a girl you just met. 

Yena smiles. “You’d be surprised how blurred the lines are.”

Yena‘s hands fall on your shoulders and make you  fall to the kitchen chair and make your pants fall on the floor. Falling, falling, falling for her—it’s all you’re able to do provided that she’s stunning. She’s tiny with her thin arms and legs but her breasts are surprisingly supple. The cleavage her top subtly shows off hinted to that and you’re still shocked.

She’s a hot desert, and the only source you can drink of is her core. Her pussy is slick, making her thighs glue together only for them to part as she sits on your lap. 

The first grind has you both breathless. The second renders a duet of moans. She’s so wet that it’s excessive enough for her to drip down your cock and completely cover it with her. Yena’s pussy lips splay and clasp your shaft with slippery friction.

She curses. “You’re so hard. Big, t-too.” She aims your cockhead at her clit and sighs at the toe-curling pleasure. “You think you can fit in me?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

Yena smirks. She continues soaking you with her wetness. Her juices pour from your head to your balls. Then, without warning, she sheathes your rod inside her. 

You gasp. It’s so easy to slip yourself in and all too difficult to cope with how tight she is. Her walls, perfectly textured and sloppy, trap you and let you out, giving you false hope of escaping, only to imprison you again. It’s the best punishment you ever had. 

Her throat was already better than the other cunts you’ve spent yourself in, so what does that make her pussy?

The best. Her overflowing waterfall lets her ride you easily. It seems like there’s a million spots inside her you can target for she quivers and cries with each bounce. Her hair flows photogenically while her chest does the same erotic motion. 

“So fucking good, fuck,” Yena groans. Her round butt lands on your lap and you think you’d like it to stay there forever. Curl your hands around her cheeks. Draw a healthy moan from the throat you used.

Yena’s pussy curves and opens in every best way. She makes it so easy to mold her into the shape of your cock, to rearrange her insides. Was she made for dick? She’s so wet that you’d think she’s a nymphomaniac who won’t let you go, the same way her vagina won’t let you go as its grip curls around you and threatens to milk you to your wits’ end.

You wouldn’t mind that.

Her riding accelerates to an unbearable point the moment you start to spank her. She’s right about hurting and having sex being almost the same—you want to leave red handprints all over her jiggling ass. You want to pull her hair until she screams. You want to fuck this perfect cunt of hers right up to when she’s creaming all over you, flooding your sexes with her naturla nectar.

And the crazy thing is: she’ll actually let you.

“Fucking brat,” you say, hitting her butt again. She yelps coquettishly. “Are you really this thirsty for cock?”

“God, yes…” Her head throws back. Yena’s eyes shut and although her vision is blocked she sees stars. “Wanted to know how your dick would split me open. Fuck, keep doing that!”

Her core tightens with each blow you expel on her bouncing ass. Her hole’s already so enclosed so when she squeezes more, it’s close to having your cock tortured. You’re suffocating inside her.  You’re waterboarded again and again with her waterfall of wetness. 

You guide Yena’s motions with your hands on her behind. She’s so light that you’re practically using her as a doll, fucking her on your erection and letting yourself enjoy how her tits recoil. Her moans turn on a part of your brain that you don’t know, but it transmits to you these thoughts: fuck her senseless.

You raise her as high as you can, her weight nothing even to your long-untrained muscles, then slam her down. She sinks deeper into your lap and takes longer inches. Yena’s screams bounce off the soundproof walls that ensure only you can hear them. Those walls were fucking expensive, so of course you gotta let them have purpose. Slap Yena’s thighs down on yours and let her pussy envelop you right up to the point of bruises appearing on your skin.

How does she not sweat? Your hands wander all over her tight body and still you don’t find a drop of sweat. Her pigtails are still secured. You guess she was just made to be eternally pretty. 

She is pretty, under any circumstance—her smooth skin possesses zero blemishes and her winged eyes remain lamp-bright. She’s pretty, even when she lets out the pitchiest sounds, even when Yena’s lips rise into a devilish smile before sealing on your neck. She nibbles on your skin and rakes up your sensitivity. 

“Holy shit, Yena…”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She licks behind your ear and you nearly lose it. Maybe you already did. “Say my name. Because I’m all yours. This pussy is yours to use and abuse, so do it.”

Rub her tiny pulsing clit. Yena’s cries deafen you. If that’s not enough, she drowns you with her cum. There’s no raft to save you. You’re all alone. You’ll drown here and never see the light of day again.

Electricity runs through her body as the pleasure ramps up. Her fingers weaken on your shoulders. Her gasps are split off by larger, more surprised evolutions. Yena’s close.

“Fuck, no, I can’t!” Yena’s riding is furious and borderline abusive. The noises between your two crotches are louder than before. 

“You can,” you insist. You throb inside her while her pussy becomes smaller despite the many thrusts you perform. “Take it like a good girl, Yena.”

“Fuck me, use me, I’m just your cute little helpless girl, fuck me!”

She couldn’t be more correct. She’s just a useless doll, thin and adorable and tight—so why not use her like one?

You’re surprised your limbs have any power in them, but they impress as you lift Yena up. During your walk to the counter, you don’t stop thrusting in her. She’s wet and ready, just waiting and begging for it to happen. Her pretty face is smudged with tears. There’s sick satisfaction in you from seeing how the confident girl at the bar is now just a fuckhole to use. 

“Oh, oh, ah!” Cute little whines come out from those lips. Her mouth used its power to pick you up, make you cum, make you scared. In this second, all that is gone: she’ll only ever use it to wail in pleasure.

Knock her against the kitchen counter. Her thighs press to the curve. You spread them open and continue spending yourself to death in her. Her sides that slant to make the physique you love are perfect handles to thrust. 

You’re completely soaked, but she’s completely defiled. The dream girl is not just any dream but a wet dream. She’s the fantasy you never had but will constantly think of now. And you don’t care if WAKE12 knows you’re fucking her. They can read all the thoughts you have about Yena as much as they like, and you wouldn’t care.

Instead of giving a fuck, you twist her around, her smooth back in front of you, and fuck her harder while you’re at it. Admire the way your hips slap her ass and give her the spanking she deserves. One spank, that’s for being so tempting. Another for the price of her promiscuity. Three one-after-the-other’s because she’s too wild, too free for a girl with that face.

“God, please, harder!” Yena cries. “Make me your little cocksleeve cumslut!”

She does not take pain to heart, physically and mentally. In spite of your rapid pumps and the slap of your stomach to her bent and ready ass, no bruises or scratches appear on her skin. You say all these degrading words and rather than mope about it, she gets more turned on. She forces you to give all your might in railing her in this apartment where the open windows give you away rather than the sounds. And you’re nodding along, saying:

“Of course.”

Of course you’ll grab her tits and pinch their nipples as hard as you can. Yena’s skin might not be humanly warm but these boobs are real. They’re soft in your palms and plentiful. Is she a masochist? You tweak and slap and squeeze; in response, she’s… smiling?

Of course you’ll slip your touch all over her body. Appreciate every perfect curve, every fine fullness. After fondling her tits, you slide your hands over her smooth pits, then to her arms that struggle to remain stable. She’s sensitive all over; it’s evident in the way she babbles each time you caress her. 

Of course you’ll take her hair and pull as hard as you can. She won’t get mad. Nothing ever gets to the cool girl.

“Oh my god!” Yena shouts. 

Those pigtails are there for a reason. Thrusts become easier to do with her hair curled in between your digits. Her ass meets your crotch easily and you find yourself excavating her cavern, hitting her in all the good places. Yena hums and screeches and sobs. 

“Bad girl.” Her hair plays the role of your reins. They’re convenient in spreading Yena apart with your shaft, tearing at her tightness. “You’re nothing but a filthy cocksucking slut.”

“M-mhm, yes, just for you, just for this perfect dick, ahh! I’m cumming!” 

Yena’s core flexes and contracts. It holds you like it never wants you to go but you let go anyway. You can do nothing besides that especially if it’s her, someone who’s so cute but so seductive, so challenging but submissive. Each part of her—those blowjob lips, her blooming face, her cockiness—makes you wish this could never end.

The first sign of the end of this pornographic one-reeler is your semen raining inside her, setting a storm in her guts. You pant, legs weak, while Yena’s seem to go on forever although she’s smaller than you.

The second sign is the mess she made. Those aforementioned desirable legs are painted by obscenity. She squirted all over your floor and herself. Your cum coats her vulva plus spills down freely.

Yena looking back at you with a tired smile is the last one, along with her asking, through shattered breaths, “Better than your whore ex?”

Because that’s the thing about girls like Yena. They’ll do everything to please you. Perhaps she’s a good dresser, but really, this is your style, not hers. This type of fashion is what you like on women: modestly revealing. Girls like Yena will give you everything, make you discover yourself, and when all this happens, she’ll remain the thoughtless, forgiving girl. She won’t complain about things that will set you off and say coy, clever things, the kind men like to hear.

All just to be better.

She is.

“Yeah.”

Yena chuckles. For a moment, she looks like the sweetest girl in the world. The happiness overtakes her face and makes her smile reach her ears. 

It disappears as fast as it arrived.

“Wrong fucking answer.”

Alarm sounds of every kind—natural disaster, fire, robbery, whistles—blare in your head. You can’t hear anything except the thin screeches of emergency. But for what?

Yena loses her brightness. Everything that made her shine shuts down. She smiles, that same one full of mischief, before she breaks, too. Her eyes turn pitch black, the ones you see in crows, the sign of bad luck. She disassembles part by part before you. The light girl is suddenly so heavy that she forces you down. Suddenly, her torso above yours feels colder than before. 

What the fuck? 

Escape is your first instinct. You push the remains of the girl away. Your feet kick the broken parts as if you’d break, too. You brush past the fringe of her bangs. Below it, no diamond scar rests on her forehead.

Stare down at her. Yena truly is not real. Your manic robotic dream girl is dead. She was never alive. 

“You have been found guilty,” says the implant. You used to hear it when WAKE12 arrested people and now it talks to arrest you. The alarms are loud but you understand every fragment. 

The implant’s emotionless voice now sounds a lot like—

“Chaewon?” 

Bad luck comes just like the consequences of the law, personified by stilettos clicking on your floor, a shadow in the moonlight, and the face of the woman you swear you never wanted to see again.

And yet here she is.

Chaewon looks so much like Yena. Yena looks so much like Chaewon. Their chins, their eyes, their bangs—who is who? Their faces mingle and mix in your vision. You think you’re going crazy.

She puts away a remote control and places her hands on her hips. Her black bodysuit is all you see as she approaches. Her smiling lips don’t utter a word. You hear her voice, all in your head.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything and everything you do shall be punished by WAKE12 accordingly. This is the price you pay for your crime.”

There’s a gun in front of you. It’s aimed at your chest, determined to crush what keeps it beating. Raise your hands, but not in surrender. You’ll die before you try to be Chaewon’s toy again.

“What crime? Being your ex-boyfriend?” you spit. This has got to be a joke. “Chaewon, I said, what crime?”

She can’t abuse her authority. She couldn’t have done all that just to get back at you. And for what? Being a bad boyfriend when you were younger and dumber?

You hear her speak. That striking smile looks more terrifying than beautiful. It dissolves into darkness to pronounce your wrongdoing. 

“For the crime of fucking existing,” she snarls.

You hate Chaewon. You swore you never did yet now you do wholeheartedly. You tried to love her and reciprocate her efforts. She’s a busy woman so she should have understood you had other commitments.

This is the last time you ever want to hear from her. 

A bullet you don’t see coming. It soars in the wind and finds its home sweet home in your skull.

She’s the last thing you ever heard.

[a-aexotic]

𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 1

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ! familial issues, underage drinking, tension (between literally every LOL), blair/serena hating each other, you/blair and you/serena being besties lol, a lotta winfrey lore

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ! ahhhh im super excited, as always please lmk your thoughts !!

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PRESENT DAY.

Hey, Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here, and I have the most surprising news ever. Y/N Winfrey spotted back in town after she disappeared for almost 6 months. But where has she been all this time? Sources tell me she's been living it up in the City of Love, Paris. Oh la la! But what brings our darling Y/N back to the Big Apple after all this time? Could it be a scandalous affair, a family feud, or perhaps a fashionable rendezvous with the elite of Parisian society?

Rumors are swirling as to the reason behind Y/N's sudden return. Some say she's back to reclaim her rightful place among Manhattan's elite, while others speculate that she's returned to stir up trouble in the already turbulent waters of Upper East Side.

But what of Y/N's infamous entourage? Will her loyal subjects, Nate, Isabell, Kati and Blair, welcome her back with open arms, or will there be whispers of betrayal and backstabbing among the ranks of Manhattan's elite?

Will she pick up right where she left off, ruling the social scene with her signature grace? Or has her time away changed her in ways we can't even imagine? So grab your designer handbags and your most scandalous gossip, Upper East Siders, because things are about to heat up in the city that never sleeps. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

As the sleek black limousine rolled to a stop in front of the towering building, the door swung open with a soft whoosh, revealing the figure of Y/N Winfrey stepping out into the cool Manhattan air.

With a flick of your hair, you cast a cool gaze towards your old home, a grand penthouse that stood as a testament to the wealth and power of the Winfrey family. The familiar sight of the elegant facade stirred a flurry of emotions within you, memories both bitter and sweet flooding your mind as you took in your old home.

You were too focused on the old home to hear your mother come up from behind you, putting a hand on her shoulder as she examined the home as well. She hadn't been there since the divorce, which was almost a decade ago.

"I know you're nervous, Y/N. But don't let any of them get to you, okay?" Her voice rang in your ears as you nodded slowly. You weren't sure who she was referring to; your father's new family or your old friends. Or maybe, all of the above.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I won't."

With a reassuring squeeze of your mother's hand, you gathered your resolve and stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited you within the walls of your old home.

Your new family met you with open arms and it felt strange to be back home, the same home you'd left; except, everything inside had changed. There were no more pictures of you anywhere, they were all replaced with wedding photos or pictures of your new stepsister, Charlene. It made your stomach twist in disgust, you couldn't believe your father had a brand-new, shiny family. The perfect family he'd prayed for, you were almost happy for him. Almost.

"So how was Paris, Y/N? Did you like it?" Josie's voice brought you back to real life. You turned your gaze up to meet hers, a tight smile on your lips. You were sat in the living room of the penthouse, alongside your mother and stepmother.

"It was... fun," you reply carefully, your tone neutral. You couldn't bring yourself to admit just how much you missed Paris, how it had felt more like home than this place ever did. Instead, you plastered on a facade of indifference, hoping to shield yourself. "It's too bad that we left."

Your mother let out a light laugh as she glanced back at you. "We'll be back as soon as we can. I just missed New York so much and I'm so happy to be back." What she didn't mention was that the only reason she was back was for her business, she wanted to open more shops in Manhattan.

"Yeah, it's nice to be back," you replied, forcing a smile. Despite your mother's attempt to lighten the mood, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

Josie, your stepmother, chimed in, her voice cheerful. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure you'll adjust to being back in no time. Especially with Eleanor's party tonight, you'll be attending that... right?"

"Yes, yes she will." Your mother answered for you. You knew that your mother wanted to reintroduce you back into Manhattan society but you didn't even have time to adjust back into New York time, you were jetlagged.

You didn't want to even think about why you even left in the first place. When you decided to leave, you promised that when you'd come back, you'd leave it in the past. You'd leave him in the past.

Nate. The mere thought of him sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the heartache you had endured before leaving for Paris. You had promised yourself that you would never allow him back into your life, that you would move on and leave the past where it belonged.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed as your mother and stepmother continued to discuss the details of the upcoming event, their voices fading into the background as your mind wandered back to memories you had long tried to forget.

──౨ৎ──

"And if they ask you about the business, what do you say?" Your mother quizzed you as she put on lipgloss, looking into the mirror of the hallway of the building that Blair's penthouse resided in.

You tore your gaze away from your own reflection to meet your mother's eyes, a sense of unease creeping into your stomach. "I'll say that things are going well," you replied, your tone carefully neutral. "That we're expanding and looking for new opportunities in Manhattan."

Your mother nodded in approval, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Good," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of pride. "Just remember to keep it vague. We're a family, and we need to show the world that we're strong, no matter what."

You forced a smile, though the weight of your mother's words hung heavy in the air. The facade of unity was fragile, and you knew that beneath the surface, tensions simmered, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Your mother finally finished her lip gloss, focusing now solely on you. "Remember, confidence is key. You're representing not just yourself, but our entire family."

"Got it." You answered, the words coming out as more of a reassurance to yourself than to her.

Her words echoed in your mind as you followed her towards Blair's penthouse, the anticipation of Eleanor's party looming ever closer. The elevator dinged and the door opened, revealing the glamorous penthouse of the Waldorf's. Your mother's hand found yours as she squeezed it, reassuring as you two walked back into Manhattan's elite society.

"Priscilla Winfrey! You made it!"

Your mother's head turned to meet Eleanor, a charming smile enveloping her lips as she walked toward her.

"Oh, and is that Y/N?" Eleanor gasped as she studied you, taking every little detail in. "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart. You're starting to look more and more like your mother every passing day."

"Thank you, Ms. Waldorf," you replied graciously, offering her a polite smile. Despite the compliment, you couldn't shake the sense of unease that gnawed at you.

Eleanor's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she turned her attention back to your mother, engaging her in conversation. Left momentarily alone, you scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces that surrounded you.

Your eyes landed on your old friend group, all seated on the couch. A sense of nostalgia hit you as you examined their faces, all the nights you'd spent partying with them playing in your head. Isabell, Kati and Chuck sat as they spoke, talking about God knows what.

You couldn't help but wonder where Blair was, it was her party and she wasn't with her friends. And of course, Nate.

Chuck's eyes finally met yours, a wide smirk on his lips as his eyes fell on your body before back to your eyes. But before you could go up to them, you heard an excited squeal behind you.

"Y/N!"

You recognize that voice anywhere; it was Blair. She enveloped you in a tight hug, her excitement palpable as she pulled back to study your face. "Oh my God, it's been too long." she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling but there was something you couldn't quite place. "You look amazing, as always."

You were nervous, it had been so long since you'd seen your old best friend. Your stomach twisted in guilt as you gave her a tight smile, her hands squeezing yours. "Thank you, Blair. You looked stunning but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."

Blair's smile faltered for just a moment before she regained her composure, a flash of something unreadable passing through her eyes. "Thank you, Y/N," she replied, her tone warm but tinged with an undercurrent of tension. "I'm just glad you're here. Like, really here."

You and Blair had been close since you were kids, your families being close since the beginning of time, basically. Your mothers were best friends in school and now, you are too. Before you left Paris, you told Blair and Serena and made sure to give them calls whenever you could. But soon, Serena stopped answering your calls and according to Blair, she just disappeared to a boarding school in Connecticut.

Blair still didn't know the real reason you fled to Paris and that gulit chipped at you everyday, even more now as you saw her lips curve into a rare genuine smile.

"I've missed you, Blair," you replied, your voice tinged with sincerity. "It's good to be back."

"It's good to have you back, Y/N." Blair gave your hand a squeeze before she spoke again. "Excuse me for two seconds, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Of course, Blair," you replied, offering her a reassuring smile as she excused herself.

You let out a sigh before turning your focus back to your mom, who was now in a conversation with a person you weren't sure you knew the name of. You knew you couldn't bother her right now, she was networking.

With a resigned sigh, you resigned yourself to the role of observer, content to blend into the background as your mother worked her magic in the world of Manhattan's elite. It wasn't the first time you had found yourself sidelined in favor of your mother's professional pursuits, and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

You couldn't blame her, though. After the divorce, her career had become more than just a family business—it had become her lifeline, it was the only thing she still had.

You remembered the days that followed your parents' separation, the way your mother had thrown herself into her work with a fervor bordering on obsession. It had been her way of coping, her way of escaping the pain and heartache that had threatened to consume her. You didn't blame her, her high school sweetheart had left her for a woman almost half her age, closer in age with her daughter than her.

You found the drinks table quickly, grabbing a glass of champagne and taking a sip of it. As you lifted the glass to your lips, the cool and crisp taste of the champagne washed over your tongue, distracting you from the emotions swirling within you. With a sigh of contentment, you leaned against the table, letting the hum of conversation and laughter wash over you.

As you scanned the room, your eyes fell on a familiar brunette. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized who it was; the person you'd been wanting to escape since you left for Paris. His bright blue eyes met yours and you felt a rush of conflicting emotions flood through you. It was Nate, your once-close friend, the one person who had been a constant presence in your life before everything changed.

His gaze held surprise as he caught sight of you across the room, and for a moment, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. You were frozen, unable to move as he approached you.

You couldn't escape him now.

Nate's lips curved into a smile as he took you in, with all your glory. "Y/N, you're back. It's, uh... good to see you."

"Yeah, you too." You responded, giving him a short answer.

Nate's smile faltered slightly at your response, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his features before he quickly masked it. "So, uh... how have you been?" he asked, his tone cautious as though treading on uncertain ground.

"I've been good. And you?"

"Me too. I'm happy you're back." He looked down at the glass of champagne as he let out a chuckle. "I'm glad you still have that taste of champagne, some things just never change."

You couldn't help but smile at Nate's attempt to lighten the mood, the tension between you easing ever so slightly. "Yeah, some things never change," you agreed, a hint of warmth creeping into your voice.

"Nate!" Blair's voice echoed as she came up to the two of you, grabbing his arm. "You don't mind if I steal him for a second, Y/N."

You and Nate exchanged looks before you tore your eyes from him and back to Blair, a forced smile playing on your lips. "Of course not, he's all yours." In more ways than one, you thought to yourself as the two walked away, leaving you alone once again.

Before you could relish in being alone again, your mother's voice rang behind you. "Y/N! Blair! Look who's back."

You turned to meet the blonde you'd once called your best friend. Serena. Her gaze held excitement as she found yours, you began walking toward and engulfing her in a big embrace.

You didn't know why she left for Connecticut but you knew she would tell you and Blair eventually. You, Serena and Blair had always been close and tight-knit, no matter the circumstances.

Serena pulled out of the hug and put her hands on your shoulders as she studied your face, a grin on her face. "You're glowing, Y/N."

"Says you. How did you get even more blonde since I've seen you?" You teased as she let out a laugh.

Serena's laughter echoed through the hallway, a sound that filled you with a sense of warmth and familiarity. Despite the time that had passed since you had last seen each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

"I've been spending way too much time in the sun," Serena admitted with a playful grin, her blue eyes sparkling. "But enough about me, tell me everything. How was Paris? Did you meet any cute French boys?"

You chuckled at Serena's teasing. "Paris was amazing," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you recalled your time. "And as for French boys, well, let's just say they definitely live up to the hype."

Serena laughed, nudging you playfully with her elbow. "I knew it!"

"Serena?"

You both turned to face Blair, a unreadable expression on her face before she quickly masked it with excitement. She pulled her into a tight hug but you could feel the tension, what the hell did you miss when you were Paris?

"So good to see you, how are you?" Blair pulled out of the hug as she looked in between you.

"Oh, look! The girls are back together, my heart is gonna burst." Eleanor gasped as she observed the scene in front of her, oblivious to the tension in the room. "Are you staying for dinner, I'll set a place next to Y/N and Blair!"

"Yeah, um, there's somewhere I have to go." Serena looked in between you, a guilty expression on her face.

"You're leaving?" Blair's voice sounded hurt as she looked back at Serena.

"Yeah... I don't feel well, I-I just wanted to come and say hi. I'll see you guys at school tomorrow." Serena responded as she slowly began to back up, before she turned away.

Blair's expression dropped immediately back to a bitter expression, looking back to you. "At least you're staying. Who needs Serena anyway?" She whispered the last part as she turned away and began walking away.

You began following behind her, "What did I miss?"

"What do you mean?"

You caught up to Blair and you two began walking toward the couch. "I mean... with you and S?"

"Serena." She corrected. "And nothing except all you know. She left without saying a word, to none of us." Blair sounded bitter but you knew deep down, she was just hurt.

"Well, maybe something happened."

"With what?" Chuck joined the conversation as Blair glared at him. You could feel Chuck's gaze on your dress as he smirked.

"Mind your business, Chuck." Blair spoke as she rolled her eyes.

You caught Chuck's gaze, his smirk igniting a spark of annoyance within you. "Chuck, it's not polite to stare," you retorted, your tone sharp as you shot him a pointed look. Some things never do change, you thought.

Chuck's smirk widened at your words, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Forgive me, I couldn't help but admire the view," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You did some growing up in Paris, I could tell." His eyes were focused on your dress as you scoffed.

"Paris does wonders for a person," you replied dryly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

──౨ৎ──

"I'm pregnant! Surprise, Y/N!" Josie shouted as your father pulled her in closer, your jaw slowly falling. She's... what? Your fork clattered against the plate, the sound echoing in the tense silence that followed Josie's announcement. Pregnant? The word echoed in your mind, disbelief and shock washing over you in waves.

Your head was pounding, you got home around 12:30 last night because the party lasted a little longer than expected. You were just trying to enjoy your breakfast before school, but then they drop this bombshell on you.

"Wh-what?" You finally managed to stammer out, your eyes wide with disbelief as you looked at Josie. "How does, uh, Charlene feel about it?"

Charlene was Josie's daughter from her previous relationship, she was about two years younger than you and... well, you couldn't stand her.

"You can ask her yourself!" Josie's gaze moved behind you and you turned to face Charlene. Speak of the devil.

Charlene's lips curved into a smile, though there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. "Super excited. I mean, I can't wait to be an older sister."

There was awkward silence before you got up from the dining table, clearing your throat. "Well... I have to get ready for school. This was really nice."

You got up and began walking up the stairs, ignoring their stares. You wanted to stay with your mom but she was staying at The Palace and your father insisted you stayed with them and his shiny new family.

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[vigilskeep]

do you actually have a ranking or like. rundown of each love interest's particular brand of insanity re: tranquil beloved...? or if that's too big an ask perhaps the highlights.. i am sitting so attentively reading all of the ones you've detailed thus far

in no particular order

zevran: cruel to the end to ask him to have his love’s blood on his hands again, but if he believed it was what they would have wanted, it would be the gentlest, tenderest, of assassinations

morrigan: what power does a templar possess that is beyond her ability to reverse? she will claw the answer from the far corners of the earth and the furthest reaches of the fade before she abandons what is hers

leliana: once, the chantry sunburst was a comfort, a sign of refuge in a world of darkness. now she can only see the one burned into their skin, the wondrous gifts the maker gave to them stolen in the maker’s name, the cruellest game he has played yet. could she keep her faith through such a test? would she even want to?

alistair: there is a hollow in his life that can’t be laughed around. a sick weight in the stomach, remembering flipping his runic token between his fingers in distraction through every chantry lecture where they promised this was necessary. he’s angry. he’s beginning to think he might be a very angry person, really. he’s beginning to think he’s got good reason

fenris: he wonders if, when the lyrium was touched to their forehead, it burned the way his does. he thinks better of asking. there was a time when magic felt like a curse on them both that he couldn’t break. he wants it back

anders: history always repeats itself. there are certain inevitabilities, foregone conclusions, lessons the circle teaches well. you escape, you get caught. you love something, they take it away. you destroy the last thread tethering a mage to humanity—you’re that brutal, that cruel, that stupid—and all you’ll have left is an abomination

merrill: she never understood tranquillity until it was this close; she could never really believe it was possible. it doesn’t matter. her love’s not quite here right now, even as she chatters away to them, but it doesn’t matter. you can fix anything, as long as you’re willing to pay the price

isabela: it’s her own fault, really. her own fault, for taking a chance on someone so targeted, so foolish, so—brave. her own fault for believing them, when they promised she wasn’t going to lose them. she should leave. there’s nothing left for her here. but it’s gotten so hard to run away

sebastian: this changes nothing. his love is as cold as the portraits that line the halls of the palace in starkhaven, as silent and empty as the chantry statues that offer no guidance for what will come. he still kisses their cheek, takes their hand, walks at their side. he is still a husband; he still has his vows, and one more to add to the rest—to find who blackened the maker’s name with this, and teach them what His judgement truly looks like

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 6

Warnings: Stress in the nest, angst

Fear engulfed Felix as he ran to his omega's side when Hyunjin let go of her. Her body fell limp in his alpha's arms. "Y/N." Felix's voice croaked as he held her frail little head. "Felix-ssi, take Y/N into my room and make sure she doesn't go into a sub-drop while me and Hyunjin deal with Jisung," Chan whispered, before leaving him with his omega. "Felix it is alright. I will take her. You go and clear this up." Minho offered as he slowly picked up the small omega knowing Felix was in no fit state to look after her. "Hyung?" Felix whined, trying to pull her back. "I've got this. I will look after her until you come." Minho stated as he nudged the blonde wolf before heading up the stairs into his alpha's room. "Those idiots. He's going to kill them." Minho gasped as he looked at the state of Chan's room. The king-sized bed had been pulled away from the wall into the middle of the room with the headboard ripped off, and small pieces of wood covered the floor. The wardrobe had completely changed sides of the room with half of his clothes falling out of it, even Chan's shoes looked as if they were ready to escape the madness of this room. Bundles of blankets and pillows had engulfed the once-neatened bed. Sweet scented candles flooded the room. It was pure chaos. He could tell the two betas were in distress but he didn't expect them to shake up their alphas room. 

Carefully Minho dropped her on top of the mattress before getting a washcloth to wipe the blood from her new mated marks that were branded into her skin. Minho noticed as he ghosted his fingertips over Chan's mark that Hongjoongs mark underneath was slowly dissapearing along with the other twenty so marks across her body. He wondered how long it would take for her body to repair itself from the physical trauma that was across her skin. Minho shook his head and gingerly wiped the blood from her neck before going to Hyunjin's mark. Minho had to snicker at the mark on her ass because he knew there would be no way Hyunjin would ever mark her ass let alone in general at this current moment. Like himself, Hyunjin too had a difficult background but they were both very different. Minho was very grateful to Chan for finding him all those years ago. He would always owe it to him, for the rest of his life if he had to, hence why Minho would never challenge Chan. Hyunjin and Jisung were the most defiant wolves. Jisung more so than the rest since he was the first wolf Chan had chosen when he created Straykids. Jisung was presented as the second beta and second-ranked to Minho. Jisung's firstborn seniority complex made him act better than everyone else, particularly when his wolf felt out of control. It was similar to his alpha-beta complex, but Minho would never admit that to anyone. Of course, Chan knew about it and how he felt about not being alpha but Chan never held it against Minho or questioned his feelings, it wasn't worth it to Chan. It was also the same reason why Minho never questioned Chan's weird obsession with having a soul-mated omega. He didn't understand it but he would never question Chan's actions, only supporting them quietly. Still, Minho wondered how Chan was truly feeling about all this. About having their omega here. She was quite different, understandably, as she did come from a commune that bred omegas religiously, however, her attitude towards alphas was quite distrustful and hostile, that was something Minho was still trying to figure out.

Minho knew who Ateez were. They were a group of demonic werewolves who sold their soul to dark practitioners to become the most powerful and cultivated werewolf group. He knew they lived in Wraithwood and no one could enter unless Hongjoong allowed them. It was rumoured the place was surrounded by the spirited wolves that he killed, whether it was true or a messed up story he didn't know. What Minho did know was Y/N had lived there and survived their treatment, but how did they let her escape? Minho couldn't quite put his finger on it and it bothered him. Chan had stolen Hyunjin from Ateez. Did Hongjoong steal Y/N from Chan before he got to her?  Minho's thoughts were going round and round in circles as he thought about the time they encountered Hongoong, but how would he have known? Aish, I'm going to have to ask Jeongin for help.  "Chris!" Minho shot up as if he had been caught doing something illegal. "What in the seven hells has happened to my room," Chan growled as he looked at his broken nest. All his stuff was scattered everywhere and left in a disorganised manner. "I think Seungmin and Changbin were stress nesting." Minho sighed out. "They have their own nests!" Chan growled. His alpha inside of him was clawing at the surface, ready to break out and fix his nest. It was the worst thing to do to any wolf who had perfected their nest. It was like destroying someone's grandmother's urn and scattering her ashes across your bedroom. It was annoying for any wolf and it could sometimes make the wolf disorientated, especially if an outsider destroyed it. "I know hyung! I will speak to them, they were anxious." Minho tried to assure, but it seemed Chan wasn't calming down anytime soon as he dragged his armchair over to the bed like a sour puppy. "How is Jisung?" Minho asked. "I told Hyunjin to break his leg for preventing me from saving my omega. He will shift fifty times a day until I say stop." Chan growled, his eyes fixated on his omega's heartbeat. "Is Jisung aware of why-." "Of course, he isn't. Jisung is too cocky for his own good sometimes." Chan snapped before taking in a breath. "He needs to realise that pulling me away too quickly could have killed her. If she died Min a break of a leg would have been nothing. I couldn't lose her while I just got her." "I know Channie." Minho carefully walked over and rubbed his shoulders, "I think she is a lot stronger than we think. I think she is going to be a little bit of a firecracker when she feels comfortable. There is no doubt about hyung." "I agree, but at the moment I do worry about you, Hyunjin and Jeongin. Especially Jeongin, all of these emotions are confusing him and I'm worried all his training will be thrown out the window. He doesn't know whether to rut her or attack her." Chan said as he ran his hands through his brown hair.

"Can I speak honestly?" Chan waved his hand out to give his permission. "Do not worry about me. You know I get over things in my own way. At the moment I do not feel comfortable with her around, I have just got comfortable with having the eight of us and zero problems in a long time. I just want to clarify I do and my wolf does recognise her as our mate, I am not ready to trust her or adapt to this new environment, yet. My concern is, and I say this with good intentions, I don't think it is a good idea to let Jeongin near her for a while or at least not without another alpha present. Jeongin has only been presented over a year ago and he has just gotten the hang of new smells, new emotions, hell, he even had his first rut which nearly took us all out. Jeongin is extremely volatile at the moment and I know Hyunjin has been helping him with controlling his anger. The issue is that Jeongin has learned as a mechanism to rely on other emotions in the home to ground him which worked fine until Y/N arrived. Not only that Jeongin has never been around an omega. He was born from an alpha pack. Look, I don't want our maknae to get himself worked up and explode when he's been doing so well."

Chan listened attentively to Minho's words. It was a lot to think about. Chan knew Minho was right about Jeongin, it was too soon for him to be around Y/N but at the same time, he didn't want to push either of them out. They both would need him. "hey, don't worry too much. You know all of us will help out and Jeongin knows how eager you have been to find your mate. He will understand that making her comfortable is the biggest priority and even if you have to spend time with Jeongin, I am sure Lix and Bin would love to spend time with her. Bin more so than Lix because Jisung told him she bites." Chan snorted at Minho's words, he wouldn't be surprised if she did nip one of them. "I know Minho. Thank you for your words of wisdom. You always know what to say." Chan expressed. "Oh and Hyunjin. I don't know what to do about him. Hyunjin is Hyunjin. What I can suggest is to let him come around and try not to expect too much from him and Y/N. I doubt that is going to happen anytime soon, but he is not happy about it." Minho added. "I know Hyunjin is still difficult. He isn't fully comfortable since what happened with him. Hyunjin did promise he wasn't going to reject her but feels his choice has been taken from him." Chan sadly stated as he thought back to Hyunjins cold words 'I'm not going to reject her. It's not like I can anyway, but you forced me to do something I never wanted to do.' Admittedly, Chan did feel incredibly guilty about asking Hyunjin to mark her but he was in a state of sheer panic and there was no way Jeongin was ready to have that responsibility or pressure. Chan didn't even want to think about Jeongin marking their omega anytime soon.

The two wolves sat in silence with their thoughts watching their omega sleeping peacefully for a few moments when Chan announced he was going to check on Jeongin leaving Minho alone with her. It was only when Minho pulled the blankets over her that he truly noticed her. Minho noticed how peaceful she looked as she slept. Her dark brown hair came down to her shoulders, slightly sticking to her face as she slept. Her face was less blotchy and the colour had started to come back to her cheeks. Minho couldn't deny she was beautiful but there was a uniqueness to her and he wasn't sure if it was because of her wolf or temperament. You and Han Jisung are going to be a menace together, aren't you? Minho thought to himself as he thought about the two running wild around the house. He could feel it. What they faced may not even be the full extent of her defiance and there would be a lot more to unwrap as time progresses.

[shixcherie]

Who’s The Boss, Babe ? | Jeong Yunho,Choi San,Jung Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 27 : Power Play

↬ [ Synopsis ] : In the boardroom, you are the BOSS fighting to secure the best deals for your beloved idols. But behind closed doors, in the comfort of your bed when your three dashingly handsome and irresistibly sexy lovers San, Yunho, and Wooyoung shower you with all their love. Then, the tables turn. They become the BOSSES, and you’re their BABE.

☆Word Count : 3.7k ☆Genre : Smut, Idol Au ☆Pairing : Idol! YunWooSan x Brand Manager! F.Reader

☆☆☆ WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), formal company setting, heated arguments with authorities, praise, suggestive, power play kink, reader is at manager position in KQ, making out (in the meeting room), unprotected sex (be safe lil bunnies), foursome, edging, overstimulation, safe word, mild choking, fingering (fem recieving), dom/sub undertones, oral (both recieving), breast play, nipple play, pet names, slight degradation.

NOTE : Yes… I’m going to continue and complete Kinktober, even though we’re past the 31st. I really want to finish this challenge and not leave it incomplete, so I hope you all enjoy the story, ma chéries!

Your journey in marketing had begun with these San, wooyoung adn Yunho by your side and as your responsibility, before you climbed the ranks to become Ateez’s brand manager now representing the entire group.

If hiding secrets and carrying out sneaky acts was a game, you four were the masters, the top scorers on the scoreboard and the MVPs of the game.

Today was no different as you prepped yourself for an important meeting on which Ateez’s this comebacks sponsorship deals depended.

The meeting room was tense, filled with the rustling of papers and muted conversations as sponsors from various brands settled into their seats. As ATEEZ's brand manager, you had one goal today - secure the best deals possible for the group. Seated at the head of the table, you exuded calm authority, watching the faces of the sponsors gathered to discuss their partnerships with ATEEZ. Representing KQ Entertainment and the group, who observed quietly across the table, you were ready to protect their interests.

You exchanged a knowing glance with Hongjoong, ATEEZ’s leader, who gave you a reassuring nod, his expression silently conveying his trust in you to do your best for them. Seonghwa and Mingi, seated to his right, were calm, soft smiles on their faces, while Yeosang’s gaze drifted to the window, as if in his own world. Across from them, Jongho’s fingers turned the pages of the deal summaries in front of him, fully focused.

And then, finally, your eyes landed on the three little but somehow big at the same time devils — Yunho, Wooyoung, and San. All three wore confident smiles, but you could easily see the flickers of hidden desire beneath their innocent expressions. Yunho’s intense gaze lingered on you with a smirk, Wooyoung winked, offering a playful grin, and San gave a tiny thumbs-up, all gracefully hidden from the watchful eyes of the other meeting attendees.

As the clock struck 11:00 a.m., you took a steadying breath, ready to kick off the meeting. An executive from a high-profile tech company leaned forward, confidence in his posture and a slightly dismissive air in his tone. “We’re proposing a multi-platform campaign for six months, but naturally, the investment would need to be balanced with additional content requirements. We’d need access to their tour schedules, exclusive interviews, and regular social media engagement.”

You didn’t let his patronizing tone faze you. Instead, you replied with clear authority, “Your interest is noted, but ATEEZ’s social reach and engagement already deliver more value than most of your current brand ambassadors. If we’re extending access to exclusive content, the investment needs to reflect that value.” Your gaze was steady, voice unwavering. “The current proposal doesn’t align with the brand’s worth or the level of exposure you’re asking for.”

The executive raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to being pushed back on in negotiations. “With all due respect, we’ve worked with similar acts at the same price point,” he responded, his tone challenging.

Leaning forward slightly, you replied with a cool but assertive tone. “Then you’d know that ATEEZ isn’t a ‘similar act.’ They’re rising globally, setting records, and have a devoted fan base that’s growing by the day. The right deal here benefits both your brand and ours, and I won’t settle for anything less than a fair agreement.”

San, sitting across from you, concealed a small smile behind his hand, clearly entertained by your handling of the situation. Wooyoung exchanged a look with Yunho, admiration glinting in his eyes. They knew you were fighting for them, working to secure a partnership that valued them for who they truly were.

“Did she just say ‘won’t settle for anything less than a fair agreement’?” Wooyoung leaned over to Yunho with a smirk, feigning awe. “I think that’s the classiest way anyone’s ever told a sponsor to pay up or walk out.” He shot you a wink when your eyes briefly flicked his way, then leaned back as if he’d said nothing at all.

Yunho, seated next to him, chuckled under his breath, casting you an admiring glance as he whispered, “She’s really in her zone today. Almost scary how cool she is.” He nudged Wooyoung with a grin, shaking his head. “Guess we know why they call her ‘the ice queen of negotiations.’”

San joined in, his tone playful yet respectful. “It’s not just the sponsors who have high standards, you know,” he murmured, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Wooyoung and Yunho. “She’s setting the bar for all of us. Makes me want to up my game just listening to her.”

Pretending not to notice their comments, you kept your focus on the sponsor conversation, yet their support echoed in your mind. Each subtle remark strengthened your resolve, reinforcing that they trusted you completely to handle the situation with poise and confidence.

The executive across the table looked taken aback but didn’t press further. Another sponsor took the opportunity to chime in, softening the conversation. “We absolutely see the potential here and understand the importance of aligning on fair terms. Perhaps we can look at additional options for exposure ? A dedicated photo shoot or a feature at one of our flagship events?”

You nodded, acknowledging the shift in tone. “That’s a step in the right direction, but I’d need a clearer outline of the expected deliverables and a budget adjustment to match,” you replied, your voice firm yet with a touch of negotiation. “We’re open to expanding opportunities, but it needs to reflect ATEEZ’s current standing and future potential.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Wooyoung giving you an approving nod, his lips curving into that characteristic smirk, silently applauding your persistence. Yunho’s gaze lingered as well, respectful yet subtly challenging, as though he was testing just how far you’d go to secure the deal they all wanted.

Leaning over to his friends once again, Wooyoung added in a low, playful tone, “I’m convinced she could get the CEO himself to sign on without even breaking a sweat,” earning a laugh from San and Yunho.

But as the meeting wore on, you couldn’t shake the subtle intensity in the room. Each time you made a point, your eyes would meet one of the boys’, and there’d be a flicker of something unspoken, a quiet admiration mixed with a tension simmering just beneath the surface. You were their representative, yes, but there was an understanding between you that extended beyond the business formalities of the room.

As everyone left the meeting room, Wooyoung, San and Yunho stayed back as you have asked them to fill in them with a few of their solo shoots and works for the comeback.

With the last person leaving the meeting room, the door clicked shut, leaving only the four of you in the silence. The air was thick, charged with something unspoken. Holding onto your notebook, you felt their gazes—intense and unwavering, zeroed in on you. Wooyoung, San, and Yunho were watching you, and the usual professionalism had melted away, replaced by lust.

“Come here,” you breathed, motioning for them to gather closer. They moved in, but as you began to discuss the final points about the comeback, you felt their attention slipping from business to something more personal. Yunho, close enough to feel his heat, leaned in, his dark eyes admiring your face. “You were incredible back there,” he murmured, his voice low, a smirk curling at his lips as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

San stepped forward with a mischevious grin. “Yeah, you really put them in their place,” he murmured, leaning in until there was no space between you. “But now, it’s our turn, isn’t it ?”

Wooyoung’s soft laugh sent a thrill through you. He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. “The ice queen of negotiations,” he teased. “Let’s see how long the ice takes to melt.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your jawline in a slow, purposeful stroke, sending electricity down your spine.

San’s lips grazed your ear, his fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder. The touch alone made your legs weak, sending shivers down your spine as you held onto him for support.

Yunho’s fingers slid down your arm, intertwining with yours, his intense gaze holding yours as he tilted your chin up. His breath was hot on your skin, his lips brushing against yours before trailing slowly along your jaw, igniting a spark deep within you.

Wooyoung’s hands found your waist, pulling you to him, his mouth claiming yours in a slow, deep kiss that left you breathless. San’s hands were there too, holding you as his lips brushed your skin. “Guess we’re the bosses now, aren’t we babe ?” he murmured, his voice both challenge and a sweet declaration.

Surrounded by them, every touch, every look, every kiss pulled you deeper. The intensity was dizzying and consuming. Just as you were about to surrender, breaking every office relationships policy, the ring of your phone shattered the moment. You answered the call, barely processing the voice on the other end, your mind still clouded by the steamy kiss. Gathering your things, you glanced back, meeting their eyes still dark, intense and wanting.

You leaned close, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks, your voice soft with promise. “Come to my place tonight,” you whispered, your eyes flicking between them. “You’re mine tonight.” Then, with a final look, you turned and left, leaving the anticipation hanging in the air.

As promised, San, Wooyoung and Yunho were at your house in the evening as you all planned to relax in your living room watching a movie. You were perched up the coach with your head resting on Yunho’s shoulder who was on your right while San rested his head on your left shoulder. Wooyoung made himself comfortable on the floor while his head rested back on your thighs.

The horror movie was at its climax, you and Yunho’s gazes refused to leave the tv screen while you could hear San making scared noises while covering his eyes whenever a jumpscare happened but still his curiousity peeked and he would sneak small glances while Wooyoung fully hugged you leg, refusing to watch the movie anymore but also asking you if the scary scene was over or not. It was endearing and funny at the same time as the boys clung on to you.

“Scrady cats” Yunho muttered as you chuckled nuzzling deeper into Yunho neck as the movie for you wasn’t even that scary and at this point you were feeling more bored.

“Wanna do something more interesting babe ?” Yunho asked, his voice was low but loud enough to reach your ears, as you jolted up to meet his gaze. His playful puppy eyes and sweet smile heightened up your excitement as you call for Woo and San.

“Guys, still wanna watch the movie, or should we…” You barely finished the sentence before Wooyoung quickly turned off the TV, meeting your gaze with a glint of mischief. He shifted on the floor, fully facing you, and smirked, “The movie was boring anyway. I’d rather finish you than finish it.” His words drew chuckles from all of you as he gently rubbed your thighs, his warm touch sending a thrill through you. Meanwhile, San left delicate kisses on your shoulder, adding to the tingling sensation dancing across your skin.

Your tiny tank top and mini shorts provided them more than enough to touch, admire, and savor. Yunho slowly turned you toward him, his large hand holding the back of your head as he pulled you closer. His lips captured yours, while Wooyoung settled between your legs and San held your waist, bringing you even closer. Sandwiched between Yunho and San, you felt Wooyoung’s sneaky hands slide down to remove your shorts, his fingers working with surprising deftness.

“Remember, kitten, whenever it gets too much, use our safe word,” San murmured into your ear, his breath warm as you hummed in acknowledgment, all while sharing a deep kiss with Yunho. San’s mouth latched onto your shoulder, his lips caressing the butterfly tattoo on your back. His hands roamed up your sides, his gentle rubs slowly inching your tank top higher and higher.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung’s mouth left soft kisses on your thighs, his hands caressing your legs as he worked his way up, inching closer to where you ached for attention the most, already dripped wet with arousal.

Yunho deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth and sucking on your toongue, and you let out a soft moan that gradually turned louder as Wooyoung and San each focused on your most sensitive spots in unison.

Wooyoung’s mouth took you by surprise, his lips and tongue tasting you, indulging with eager slurps. “Mmm,” he murmured against you, seemingly satisfied with every lick he took of your wet core. San’s large hands found your breasts, and with your tank top discarded somewhere on the floor, he kneaded them with care, his fingers pinching and teasing your nipples until they perked, each touch sending pulses of pleasure through you.

Yunho bit your bottom lip, adding a sharp but delicious sting that made you gasp. Just then, Wooyoung slid one of his thick fingers inside you, the unexpected sensation causing you to gasp again. San’s movements on your breasts quickened, his skilled fingers squeezing and pinching, sending electric jolts down your spine.

Wooyoung added another finger, the stretch making you tense momentarily, but soon, it melted into something beautifully pleasurable as Yunho broke the kiss. He took in the sight of you, eyes half-closed, dazed with pleasure, and smiled as he rubbed your clit while Wooyoung continued to pump, his pace picking up, pushing you closer to release.

“Still holding up, kitten ?” San whispered in your ear. You nodded, and a loud moan escaped your lips as you felt yourself clench around Wooyoung’s fingers. The tension built rapidly, your body trembling on the edge of something big. With one last, perfectly timed pinch on your sensitive clit, you finally came undone, your release spilling over Wooyoung’s fingers as your body quivered. Wooyoung pulled his fingers out and, without missing a beat, slipped them into his mouth, tasting every bit of you like it was his favorite flavor.

A knowing glance passed between Wooyoung and Yunho, and they swapped positions with ease. Wooyoung moved to the couch while Yunho settled between your legs, his mouth eager to taste every last drop of you. His hungry lips latched onto you, licking and sucking, not letting a single trace escape. As you moaned, your voice filled the room, each sound encouraging them on. Wooyoung brought his fingers to San’s mouth, and San took them in, savoring your taste with a low hum that turned you on even more.

Your mind drifted back to the first time with all three of them. It had been overwhelming, so intense that you’d had to use the safe word, the overstimulation and all three of them at the same time was too much for your body to handle. Since then, it had happened twice more before your body finally adjusted to them. Their frequent visits had helped you get used to both the stretch and the intensity, the pain gradually shifting into pure pleasure each time. And now, it was all too easy to surrender completely to the sensations they gave you.

You were pulled out of your deep thoughts as San’s lifted you, holding you securely in his arms as he stood. Yunho was already settled comfortably on the couch, leaning back as his eyes turned dark filled with lust. Once Yunho was ready, San lowered you onto him, positioning you so that your back pressed against Yunho’s chest, bringing a rush of warmth from his steady breathing behind you. Wooyoung, meanwhile, stood near your head, his eyes shining with excitement. You tried to piece together their intentions, your pulse quickening as you wondered what new position they had in store for you this time.

The boys were full of surprises, each encounter introducing another thrilling variation. You remembered your first foursome with them, bodies pressed together under the steamy flow of the shower, where you first caught a glimpse of just how intense their fantasies could be. Now, each time you were with them, you were left guessing, an excitement that never tappered off.

As you settled, Yunho’s large hands wrapped around your throat from behind, his grip firm yet gentle, just enough to make you feel his presence without restricting your breath heightening the intensity of the dellicious moment. San’s hands found your waist, holding you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin as they grounded you. The three of them exchanged nods before finally meeting your gaze, a silent question in their eyes asking for your permission.

“Are you ready for us, babygirl?” Wooyoung’s voice was low and eager, each word laced with anticipation that sent a thrilling shiver down your spine. His gaze roamed over you, making your heart pound as you gave a playful nod. Without another word, San positioned himself at your wet core, pressing into you slowly, stretching you as he filled you completely. Yunho, right behind you, followed with his own hard length, pushing inside, making you gasp at the fullness of both of them, leaving your mind spinning.

San’s hands tightened on your waist, grounding you as he met your gaze, a spark passing between you before he started moving, each stroke deliberate and intense, reaching depths that made you shudder. Behind you, Yunho’s hands held you steady, mirroring San’s movements to create a steady, intoxicating rhythm that had you breathless with every second.

As San thrust forward, Yunho matched his pace, their synchronized rhythm sending waves of pleasure through you, filling you from both sides. Each movement was perfectly timed, their bodies working in unison, creating an overwhelming sensation that left you lost in the moment.

Wooyoung, standing near your head, leaned down and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You look incredible like this,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. He guided himself to your lips, filling your mouth slowly, letting you adjust to his taste and warmth as he moved in sync with San and Yunho’s rhythm.

Their thrusts were perfectly in sync, and your body responded helplessly, completely lost to the rhythm they’d created. San’s grip tightened on your waist, his pace quickening as he drove into you harder, leaving you gasping. Behind you, Yunho’s hands shifted to your hips, pulling you back to meet his deep, powerful thrusts, amplifying every sensation.

Wooyoung’s hand cradled your jaw, his thumb tracing over your cheek as he encouraged you to take him deeper. His satisfied groans reverberated through you, his hips matching the rhythm San and Yunho had set, heightening the intensity surrounding you from every side.

San’s hand slid down to your sensitive spot, his thumb moving in firm circles that sent shocks of pleasure through you. Your body reacted instantly, arching as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Yunho slowed for a brief moment, letting you catch your breath before resuming, each thrust more intense, pushing you closer to release.

“Just like that, keep going,” Wooyoung whispered, his hand shifting to the back of your head. His voice was soothing, a contrast to their increasingly urgent rhythm. His hips moved steadily, his heavy breaths syncing with the sounds escaping you. Together, the three of them created a rhythm that left you gasping, with no choice but to surrender.

With each thrust, the tension in your core grew tighter, the pleasure coiling to an almost unbearable peak. Finally, as San’s thumb pressed harder and Yunho’s grip tightened, the release overtook you. Heat rushed through you in waves, leaving you breathless and shaking as you came undone.

San groaned deeply, his pace slowing briefly as he felt you tighten around him. With a final shared glance, the three of them pulled out together, each one spilling over your stomach, warmth pooling across your skin as they let out satisfied, heavy breaths.

They steadied you in the aftermath, soft touches grounding you as they ran their hands along your skin. Wooyoung leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his smile gentle and content. You lay there, basking in the warmth of their presence, a shared moment of closeness and quiet satisfaction.

As the aftershocks pulsed through you, their touches softened, turning from intense to gentle, grounding you in the moment. Heavy breaths filled the room as their hands traced light patterns along your skin, enveloping you in warmth and closeness.

San brushed a hand through your hair, murmuring, “You did so well… perfect for us.” He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his touch warm and steady. Yunho’s hands squeezed your hips gently as he whispered, “You’re incredible, so beautiful.” His lips brushed your neck in soft kisses, his voice soothing and tender.

Wooyoung cradled your face, his gaze warm. “Amazing, babygirl,” he praised, while cleaning you off as you still recovered from the intense high.

Their words and touches surrounded you, filling the afterglow with soft praise and affection, a moment of perfect connection between you all.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[taro-bae]

TWST Rant (!Spoilers!)

I was wondering about the cast of twisted wonderland in regards to their wealth and status. The majority of the twst boys are well off and of high status, but the whole wealth system of twst varies. I was trying to place the cast in order of who might actually be the wealthiest, so this is a little analysis rant!

Wealth and status obviously vary, Royal wealth would obviously be considered more valuable, so I would say Malleus and Leona would be presumably the richest since they are direct decendants of royal families. Malleus considerably ranking 1st, in my opinion, since he is to inherit the throne as first prince, while Leona is the second prince and holds just slightly less power in terms of a hypothetical hierarchy.

We all know from book 6 that Idia (and ortho) is from the Shroud family and will inherit the household and STYX. His grandmother was the original director of STYX that was later passed down to Idia's father. The organisation is highly influential and it is speculated for the Shroud family to be as rich if not more than the Asim family.

After Idia, I would put Kalim. We aren't exactly sure who is actually wealthier between the two but I would say the Shroud family directing STYX would be more influential on a larger scale. Kalim is born to a merchant family, I feel like some of the fandom collectively considers him a prince, but that is simply not true. Kalim is from a very wealthy family of merchants with some royal relatives, but he himself, if not royal in any ways. Kalim himself states "the Asims aren’t royalty, and I’m not a prince. I’ve got some relatives in the royal family, though.” The Asims are clearly very well off with many connections (even how kalim was accepted in NRC through his place being payed for presumably, most likely for connection since the family are merchants).

The following is more tricky for me to place. Vil is a different kind of rich, scaling more of fame and popularity. He's a world-known model with a famous actor father. He is from a privileged status in the show bizz and made a name for himself. We know that he's well travelled and known, from a young age his father always took him all over the world to establish connections and so on. However, I also see Rook being not that far off him in terms of wealth. Rook doesn't exactly have the same level of fame as the other characters, but the Hunt family has Villas in EVERY country within TWST. In Book 6, Rook suggested to MC and Epel to use warp pads or transporters from one of the villas to a closer destination. The transporter situation, according to Epel, is a big deal that requires permission to even have, let alone in every country. So Rook is of very high wealth and has direct ties to the government but is less talked about in that regard compared to other characters. So I don't know if he would be higher than Vil? It's possible.

Riddle is from a noble family with parents who are doctors. I would say they are rich. It is speculated by some that Riddle could somehow be tied to the Queen of Hearts, but it's not specified that he's royalty anywhere. Azul, in my opinion, would follow after. His family does make money, his mother owning a restaurant and stepfather being a lawyer. Azul himself runs Montre Lounge on campus as well as his shady deals. Azul is more bussiness wealthy out of the boys. I would asign Floyd and Jade alongside him. Even running of the fact that Floyd legit has top branded shoes in his vignette. I speculate that Floyd and Jade might actually be wealthier than that (I love the Mafia headcanons), and Jade is able to get expensive gifts and stuff. I wouldn't go as far to say that the Leech family is totally loaded, but they are definelty powerful within the Coral Sea.

The rest of the list is hard to place and up for debate.

Lilia has the advantage of being the oldest of the cast living for over 700 years and being a general to the royals. He has direct ties to Malleus, but I can't exactly place where he would be. In terms of hierarchy, he's a bat type of fae, which we're considered lower class in the fae community at the time, so he would have been seen as less by other members of his society. But he most likely has connections and ties. Dare I say if he wanted to sell his artifacts, he'll definelty be hella rich, lmao.

Clover family, I think they are a typical working class family. They have their own bakery bussiness but work constantly according to Trey, so that must mean they have income but one that you have to keep working for. Trey talks about that when they were busy, he would cook or get his younger brother tickets to spelldrive on allowance money and that parents would stock up on ingredients. Based on that, I would say Trey is off on a more "enough" to live a sustained lifestyle type of money. Like a more casual type of family with a few children (again, children need more money to be sustained)

Next, I would place all the connected working characters like Sebek, Silver, and Jamil. This seems considerably low, but hear me out. They are not exactly poor characters. They are very directly connected to noble people, though. Sebek has a military connected family right under Draconias' command as well puts both silver and him fairly high up. They are not independently wealthy but can experience more luxury lifestyles because of who they serve. Their status consists of being guards of a royal persona. Therefore, they hold a portion of recognition. Jamils case is complicated. The Viper family is born into servitude and are highly dependent on them in that manner. In a way, they could be counted as "working class," but I beg to differ in a way. Working for the Asim does benefit living standards and experiences, for example, even with being able to access better quality foods, living style, etc. It obviously comes with the downside like jamil risking his life for kalims safety (e.g., being a posion tester and constantly doing labour). In a way, despite not having personal property like Kalim, Jamil is still exposed to more luxurious items, products, etc. And it's hard to judge where he is on the richest ranking because he's directly bound to Kalim, almost like a hypothetical "contract" he's born into. More of being born into a rich environment but not being wealthy himself.

Lastly, poor baby Ruggie. Ruggie, being born in poverty, in the slums is the only character in NRC who is specified to be poor. Being born in poverty with his parents both dying early on, he was surrounded by other slum children who he considers siblings and often had to fight for food.He survived through hustling different jobs later on to work his way up. We know he hustles at Montre Lounge and for Leona to make any money and does try to make a bargain for any opportunity. Out of the entire cast, Ruggie is canonically poor.

Epel,Jack, Ace, Cater, and Deuce are ones who are a bit more confusing because they have less information on them. I've been thinking about Jack. His status is not exactly clear, and I can't find any evidence to pinpoint his social standing much. I would place him above Ace. In my analysis, I considered that Jack met vil when they were children, and i think Jack could even be higher on the list. i just can't find anything to clarify that. I would assume vil would have lived in a fairly well-off environment since he was a kid, so the neighbourhood must have been at least middle class or something. Just running off that, I would say Jack might be more middle class to average. He does have multiple siblings that need money to sustain. Ace states before to azul in a luxe couture vingette that he can't "afford the high-brand clothes." So I would say he's off a more average family type of income. With in this rank, I would also place Epel. He did mislead his dormates into believing that he's a noble and Vil suggesting epel to not use his dialect to not give away his actual position. His family aren't mages, which maybe within twisted wonderland would be lower class. But they are farmers from Harveston. Harveston isn't well known but does produce apples that does provide them with some form of trade and income for sure. Cater talks of not having enough money sometimes, but he's a very dual type of character that tends to mask things a lot. I think he's maybe just above average, actually. He claims to occasionally not have money. Someone let me know his father is a banker, but it's unclear how much the Diamond family actually owns or makes, but I think he hides his true position. We know Deuce has a mother who works with the White Rabbit logo trade chain. There's no indication to pinpoint where the Spade family is at, so I would also say around average. We know Deuces father walked out on them so Dylla is the working mother, I'm assuming the family is also a type to have enough money to live but no extra to spend (on stuff like luxury items). Deuce definitely got his wallet up after fixing Malleus's tamagochi and getting some pricey gems from him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

If you know any information on some characters, feel free to share!

[stonewall-if]

Stonewall Military Academy: the most brutal, merciless, and unforgiving boarding school in the country. Most recruits either desert or die by the end of their first year. It is where the fiercest and deadliest killers are trained and molded to be the military's steel fist. And it is not for the faint of heart.

Your late mother was once the most respected Commander in the military...until she turned against her country and was killed. Her betrayal killed important figures, left thousands dead, and almost made your people lose a war against a monstrous opposition that threatens the livelihood of your people every day.

Your family has gone into hiding since then, exiled and branded as traitors. But when you're forced to defend your sibling, you're given two options: death or become Stonewall's newest recruit, which is a death sentence in and of itself.

You choose Stonewall.

Your mother's betrayal has tainted your family, has made anyone with your last name hated and has exiled them in circles your family once commanded. You will be bullied, ostracized, even almost killed by your fellow recruits who believe you lower than dirt.

But that won't stop you. You won't be part of the 99% of recruits who die or desert. You will get out of here. You will learn about your mother. And you will live to see graduation.

Will you?

Stonewall is an 18+ dark interactive fiction with minimal fantasy elements that follows MC to a ruthless military academy. Things such as explicit violence, death, bullying, and dark themes are prevalent.

Choose your gender identity and shape your recruit's personality.

Were you a bloodthirsty fighter--everything your parents wanted you be--or what people can consider a 'weakling'?

Fight violence with violence or confront your fellow student's violence with your words, or do nothing at all.

Rebel or become a loyal soldier. Fight for the High Commander's respect or be a thorn at their side.

Romance, befriend or become an enemy to a cast of characters.

Try to survive in the deadliest school in the country.

The High Commander: the leader of Stonewall. She is ruthless, bloodthirsty, and the source of nightmares for many. She doesn't expect you to make it here. Best to prove her wrong.

Your sibling: who is the closest person to you. Your actions saved them from a life of misery and you will continue to do everything in your power to protect them.

Roman [m] or Raven [f][RO]: your new mentor and trainer. R has long graduated as a student and is a full-fledged warrior working at Stonewall. They are cold, brutally honest, detached and unforgiving. They will push you to your limits, and they don't care how you feel about it. Really, they expected you to desert the moment you stepped foot into this place.

At least they're not unnecessarily cruel...which is the most you can hope for here.

Ivan [m] or Iris [f] [RO]: coming from the most powerful military family, I's bloodline has made them the most sought-after student in the school. Your mother also killed their father, so it is no surprise they hate your guts. They are at the top of the rankings, which means they are a bully, but a dangerous one. And they will not make your time here easy.

Marshall [m] or Maureen [f] [RO]: the bumbling, happy-go-lucky recruit that came in the same day as you. No one knows how the shy and easily scared M got into Stonewall...must be because they're from a line of powerful commanders. Still, they are nothing like their family, and you feel bad knowing the students are going to eat them alive. Stonewall will likely kill them before this year ends. Not your problem, right?

Enzo [m] or Eris [f][RO]: the child of the High Commander. No one wants to cross them, so no one talks to them. They are isolated like you but in a different way: they are fawned over while simultaneously being avoided. It seems like you may just be E's only ally in here (or not).

+more!

[quirkwizard]

I've been getting a lot of asks about the various futures of the characters in this setting, specifically Class 1-A. So I thought it'd be fun to mix them all up together and toss in some headcanons about the various students in the future. And yes, I will change some of the hero names and titles to what I believe are better versions. Because I like to think that someone from the Management Course got to these kids before they went public.

The Fresh-Picked Hero, Vineyard: Rank: 100s to 150s Specialization: Defense Popular Product: Sticky purple orb toys that you can throw around.

Mineta eventually grew to a more decent of a hero. He learned to properly apply himself rather than coasting on what little talent he had and worked to put on a brave face when fighting villains. He was hoping his growth would improve his image with the ladies. It did not.

The Super Sweet Hero, Sugar Ray: Rank: 100s to 150s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: A line of sweets designed and endorsed by Sato himself.

In spite of his brutish power and appearance, Sato found himself loved among old folks and housewives that loved the recipes he came up with. He'd always spare his treats with anyone he helped in his hero work, always brightening the spirits of anyone he came across.

The Taping Hero, Cellophane: Rank: 100s to 150s Specialization: Recon Popular Product: A brand of tape supposedly based on Sero's own tape.

While never the most popular or successful hero, Sero was always the most approachable one of the class, remaining down to Earth in spite of his past and lifestyle. This ended up making him more of the "working man's hero", finding fans in blue-collar workers. His power may have played a part in this.

The Fighting Hero, Martial: Rank: 100s to 150s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: A line of fur coats inspired by his tail and costume.

Ojiro was never going to be a popular hero, yet found a hardcore audience in niche communities. He would go on to found several dojos that would help young heroes learn how to apply themselves as marital artists, with or without their Quirks, and would accept many of them as his sidekicks.

The Unseen Heroine, Ultraviolet: Rank: 100s to 150s Specialization: Recon Popular Product: A shoe line inspired by the ones from her costume.

In spite of the massive controversy when she appeared on the hero scene because of her power, Hagkaure has taken to stealth-focused hero work well. Still, she tries to gain as much attention as possible as not to be left in the background. Surprisingly, this does not interfere with her work since no one ever sees it coming.

The Petting Hero, Anima Rank: 100s to 150s Specialization: Rescue Popular Product: A playset featuring various animals Koda works with, including little information cards on them.

While Koda had a role in the Heteromorphic moment, he found himself far more preoccupied with animal protection and conversation, working to endorse several zoos and sanctuaries. The once shy boy found his voice in sharing his love of animals. He remains popular with young children.

The Tentacle Hero, Sixth Sense: Rank: 50s to 60s Specialization: Recon Popular Product: A mask and headpiece set resembling Shoji's costume.

True to his word, Shoji helped foster and repair the relations with the Heteromorphs. He worked tirelessly as the public face of the movement and as the hero who would help deal with cases of Heteromorph related crimes. In time, Shoji started to feel like he didn't needed to hide his scars.

The Illustrious Hero, Rayonnant: Rank: 100s to 150s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: A clothing line heavily inspired by his own fabulous wardrobe and costume.

In spite of his flashy looks and grandiose persona, Aoyama was always one of the more empathic heroes. He would always help encourage "lost causes", becoming an icon and true hero for those that felt alone and afraid. He wanted to make sure they all grew to shine as bright as he did.

The Astonishing Hero, Paradigm: Rank: 100s to 150s Specialization: Recon Popular Product: A toy version of his masks that distorts your voice.

Preferring to stay away from the limelight, both for himself and his Quirk, Shinso made a valuable underground hero for the world at large. He's been immensely helpful in deescalating dangerous situations and assisting police in doing wet work to gather evidence. In spite of that, he never once felt like a villain.

The Stun Gun Hero, Chargebolt: Rank: 70s to 80s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: A toy version of his disk launcher and glasses

While not as lazy as he was in his youth, Denki still takes a laid back attitude to hero work and tends to treat it more like celebrity work. Less out of any selfish desire and more that he's surprisingly good at that part of it, especially with teenagers. Still does little electrical shows and short circuits himself sometimes at the request of fans.

The Hearing Heroine, Treblemaker: Rank: 20s to 30s Specialization: Rescue Popular Product: Various musical equipment themed after her, especially headphones and musical toys.

After her injury, Jiro focused less on hero work as a whole. While she still went out and landed her ear when she was needed, she instead used it as a platform to prop up her music to a resounding success. She'd often use her music and concerts to help raise money and attention to disaster areas she had worked in. Eri has been and always will be her biggest fan.

The Alien Heroine, Pinky: Rank: 10s to 20s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: Various health and beauty products, especially skin care ones.

It's been said by her fans that Mina was built to be a hero. And they'd be right. Between her flashy power and friendly personality, she quickly gained a following and shot up the ranks. She remains a fan favorite among the crowds, earning the fan name of Alien Queen. Tends to gossip a lot about her fellow heroes and causes undue drama.

The Sturdy Hero, Red Riot: Rank: 20s to 30s Specialization: Defense Popular Product: As much as Kirishima wants it to be his workout equipment and videos, it's his hair care products.

Kirishima became a noble and courageous hero, always being the first to run into whatever danger was in his way. In spite of his simple ability, his overall brand helped him garner the attention he deserved. He became an icon for young men around the state, inspiring them to be brave, to improve, and to protect the ones they love.

The Everything Hero, Refine: Rank: 5s-15s Specialization: Support Popular Product: A junior chemistry set that actually taught quite a bit about chemistry.

While never at the front of any one operation, Momo's plays a pivotal role in organizing and planning many operations, both big and small, and is considered the resident "mastermind" among the heroes. When she isn't doing that, she is assisting Uraraka, helping to provide the resources for needed to help those who can't afford the needed support equipment.

The Jet-Black Hero, Tsukuyomi: Rank: 10s to 20s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: Various plushies designed after Dark Shadow

In the shadows of the night, this dark hero would strike out giving all villains a true terror for the dark beast inside him. Yes, Tokoyami is still a massive dork. His own phrase of "Revelry in the Dark" became his catchphrase in the public eye, especially among his massive chunibyo fan base, much to his embarrassment. He thinks he could have come up with something cooler.

Rainy Season Hero: Froppy Rank: 100s-150s Specialization: Rescue Popular Product: A collection of Froppy themed water accessories, like goggles and water guns.

Tsuyu still patrols the coastline with her sidekicks, the Tadpoles, searching for anyone in need. While her niche work keeps her from the limelight, she is still extremely popular with small children. This is helpful whenever she helps Uraraka with her Quirk Counseling endeavors, helping to educate younger children on the matter.

The Turbo Hero, Ingenium Rank: 10s to 20s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: An Ingenium themed car for the action figure to drive around, much to Iida's confusion.

As Tenya grew older, he began to mellow out more, becoming more like the man Tensei was than the man Tenya thought he was. Still, he holds himself and his sidekicks to the high standards of the Ingeium family name. Hopes to instill those values in the younger generation and works extensively with Uraraka with her efforts in Quirk Counseling.

The Lighthearted Heroine, Uraravity Rank: 20s to 30s Specialization: Rescue Popular Product: A series of space themed toys based around a space mission storyline her brand did.

Uraraka went on to participate in and champion the act of Quirk Counseling. She helped to push for the implementation and personalization of the process across many schools. She wanted to make sure that no one would feel hatred for the Quirk and would regularly go around to help teach kids to understand and accept their Quirks.

Great Explosion Murder God, Dynamight: Rank: 5s-15s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: Toys inspired by his bracers that light up and shoot out plastic darts.

Ever the firecracker, Bakugou remains a solo hero through and through. He fails at having any real media presence and is well known for his tumultuous relationship with the press. Still, he remains one of the most impressive heroes in terms of incidents solved and time spent patrolling. Tends to take in "troubled kids" and whip them into shape as his sidekicks.

The Thermal Hero, Shoto Rank: 5s-15s Specialization: Combat Popular Product: A limited edition model based off of his first costume.

Shoto became the pro hero he was always meant to be, moving on from the shadow of his family. However, in spite of his time and dedication, his public image keeps him from the higher rankings. He still cannot talk to people to save his life, and the awkward interviews are legendary in the hero fan community. Still manages to rank high among the "Hottest Heroes" listing.

The Greatest Hero, Deku: Rank: ??? Specialization: Combat Popular Product: A short-lived action figure from his time as a hero. It is considered a high-value item that any fan would kill for.

Deku's time away has led to endless speculation on what happened to him and why he left. However, with his big splash back on the hero scene, he's made huge waves in the hero world and is fully expected to shoot up the ranks. Many fans watch on in excitement to see what will come next of the young hero. Though for him, he's still eager to help teach his adoring students.

[spotlightlowlife]

status is superficial

Ozzie and Bee "enjoy slumming it with the low class plebs" according to Mammon what was there defence? 'Wanna fight' and 'ew you, nobody wants you'.

Where exactly is the lie?

They didn't even dispute the claim because it's true and that's not a testiment to how humble they are when their mixing with the poor places them at the top, since amungst their peers they are powerless and obligated to conform even though there seems no leadership.

It's sort of more decent that dispite being upfront about not caring, exploitation and making an example of those who step out of line, Mammon sat happily by a pair of void of personality robots and would try to pursue an equal and Satan has a literal angel on his shoulder.

Bee and Ozzie however, like their relationships with their partners, their relationship with the public is a transactional power imbalance where everybody has themed superficial perceived fun, these practical gods hang out and show off and nobody is really comfortable.

They are no different to Stolas, where's the proof otherwise?

Things aren't looking good for him either. The same episode had Stolas loose his status and the public instantly turn on him

and not just the general public who watched the trial, a janitor who was working at the time jumped at the chance to give Stolas a piece of his mind

not to forget that we saw many random imps willing to take out Stolas right at the start when we hardly knew him

and his regular hunter Striker has issue with the power structure in general

Stolas fetished Blitzø, pilot and main series, season 2 was intent to make him more sympathetic but showed us that he cornered Blitzø when he could do with feeling better about himself. He has property that Blitzø's business hinged on and Blitzø so Blitzø agreed to their transactionship. What exactly Stolas was famous or infamous for is unknown however the mighty has fallen.

Yet Bee holds high position, she is a leader of a ring of hell. She is hellhound like and throws parties for the helhounds, she dates a hellhound who gets to unwind at parties with his 'own kind', who he invites, after a days labour for yet another higher rank of demon.

If Bee were to loose her status like Stolas, would hellhounds being bottom of the pack, the low paid jobs and the orphanage/prison/dogpound suddenly be an issue?

We saw someone who resorted to threats and intimidation quickly, can we really say that this person is genuinely liked?

How about Ozzie who may be just as responsible for Fizz's branding as Mammon? The timeline continues to make no sense, when did Fizz first enter the pagents, before or after the accident? He seems a teen when they were announced yet has been winning for the last 10 years yet is way into his 30s? It's clear that Ozzie supplies the physically disabled imp with robotic limbs, seems nice but then remember they're a couple, when did their pairing happen and how? What was agreed upon before they met where the sexbots, Fizzbots are manufactured by Ozzie who makes a range of adult toys.

Fizz served two masters who are equals but Ozzie doesn't like Mammon, Fizz makes a big scene as he leaves behind a sociopath boss to go full time with his other boss, lover who he lives with and shares a bed with, acts as a PA to, works with and has the same interests as. Fizz is seen as cute by Ozzie, the lust guy, which is nice but this cuteness is shown by him being babied and carried around like "a purse dog" while others like him must know their place.

A lot of business hinges on Ozzie and what he distributes, who is he without if stripped of all of this?

Though it's probably never going to be the case, there's every reason to believe that these characters aren't liked at all but are intimidating, manipulative grifters who have capitalized on 'dating down' and it just so happens that their partners directly boost there supply.

[redrose10]

Here is chapter 1! I hope you like it. Chapter 2 will come out in a few days. Comments are appreciated!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 1,693

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

The weather outside did not match the feeling in the conference room. Outside the window you saw the bright sunny sky, not a cloud in sight. You longed for the warmth to touch your skin. Inside this room you felt cold. The walls were a dark cherry mahogany. A marble sculpture of a horse sat in the corner. You’re sure it cost more than a years worth salary for you. You chewed on your lip, a nervous habit you developed at some point. Everyone was patiently waiting for the same person to arrive so you could finally get this over with. Never would you have imagined you’d be in a position like this. Being married off to a man you’d never met. You knew of him of course. Who didn’t? Min Yoongi was the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in the world. He was the sole heir to a large fortune being that the Min family was one of the most powerful and wealthiest families in all of Asia. He was dangerously handsome with an arrogant attitude. A womanizer who was constantly in the media and not in a positive way. Just a few months ago we was caught on camera being tossed out of a club for punching the bartender. The video showed him staggering around so drunk he could barely stand straight. He shouted some choice words before shoving three random women into the back of his Rolls Royce and having the driver speed off. Of course the poor bartender didn’t even file any charges knowing he’d never win against the Min family power and money.

Shareholders started worrying about Yoongi’s ability to lead the company, some even demanding he step down. People were uncertain if they should invest in a company run by a sloppy drunk with clear emotional baggage. Stocks in Min Enterprises began to plummet which meant the Min family money started to dwindle and only then did they decide it was time to step in. Which is how you ended up here, sitting across from Yoongi’s parents and some of the other higher ranking officials at Min Enterprises. They had come to the conclusion that it was time for Yoongi to settle down. He needed to find a nice wholesome woman who could help him clean up his image, turn his life around, maybe have a future heir and turn himself into a well respected family man. The problem with that was that Yoongi had never lasted more than a couple weeks with any woman since he was about 19. Often going for quick hookups with women he met at clubs or random models he got ahold of that just wanted to use his name to further their career. In his mind it was easier. No strings attached. No chance of falling in love. No heartbreak. Just sex and send them on their way.

You were a simple girl. You didn’t come from money or power. You loved flowers, blue hydrangeas were your favorite. You often enjoyed a mug of warm milk before bed or maybe some chamomile tea if you were feeling adventurous. Most of your clothes were thrifted and definitely not name brands. You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend and less than four flings. You were the exact opposite of Yoongi and the women you often saw him photographed with.

Which is exactly why the Min family thought you were the perfect match to save their wayward son and bring a good reputation back to the Min name. You had no one else to thank but your old college roommate and best friend Jimin. After graduation he moved away but you kept in touch with each other. One day you get a voicemail from your friend asking you to come visit him in Korea. After calling him back and him assuring you the trip was all expenses paid by himself you agreed. Little did you know of the secret motive. Jimin had moved to Seoul after graduation, quickly getting a job at Min Enterprises. He started as just an assistant to Yoongi’s assistant. Over time Jimin was able to work his way up and was now a member of the board of directors and one of Yoongi’s best friends. When Jimin heard of the Min family plan he immediately thought of you and threw your name into the contenders ring as a potential suitor for Yoongi. You had recently complained about wanting to get out of your small town and Jimin recalled several instances where you mentioned your ever failing love life and non existent bank account so what better way to get around that than to marry a handsome young billionaire.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Looking up you were greeted by the handsome face of Kim Seokjin, one of the Min family lawyers. “Can we be expecting Yoongi any time today?”, he asked probably more sarcastically than he had planned. As the elder Mr. Min started reaching for his phone the large double doors swung open and swiftly slammed shut as the man you were all waiting for stomped over and took his seat next to you, clearly agitated at having to be there.

You knew that Yoongi was handsome, most of the world knew that, but seeing him in person was different than any photos you’d ever seen. Soft perfect skin, piercing cat like eyes, silky jet black hair that he had started to let grow out. He was wearing a fitted dark green suit that probably cost more than every piece of clothing you owned. His cologne intoxicating, a mix of cinnamon and vanilla. He smelled like comfort and warmth.

When he realized you were staring at him he looked over at you turning to a face of disgust before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the lawyer, “Jin, can we get this over with? I have more important events to attend to.” You watched the lawyer lay out several sheets of paper in front of the two of you. “Right so these are the basics of the contract. It’s pretty standard. The Min family will release an official statement announcing the marriage of their only son Yoongi and Miss Y/N. The wedding will take place shortly after.” You watched as Jin turned to you placing an additional paper down in front of you and pointing to the stipulations as he read them off, “Y/N you will take the Min last name. You will move into Yoongi’s penthouse. You will agree to attend all social and/or professional functions with Yoongi and occasionally you will have to go alone as the Min representative. You will be given a credit card to make any and all purchases for any thing you need or want. And lastly you will uphold a satisfactory image as to not taint the Min image. Also please be aware that a divorce is not an option and the contract will only become nullified in the event that either Yoongi or Y/N were to pass away leaving the other as a widow.” You nodded in understanding while staring down at the list of demands in front of you. Things could be worse you thought but this still wasn’t ideal, especially not having the option for a divorce.

Jin turned his attention over to Yoongi placing a similar paper down in front of him and going over his stipulations which were much simpler than yours, basically don’t get caught with other women and don’t get drunk in public. You scoffed knowing that he would struggle to uphold his end of the contract. You were blindsided though when Jin read off the final stipulation, “After the wedding Yoongi will make an initial donation in his and Y/N’s name in the amount of $5 million US dollars to ‘Little Rays of Sunshine Orphanage’ in Y/N’s hometown. Then he will make an additional $1 million donation every year thereafter for the duration of the marriage.” Your lips turned up into a small smile. You had jokingly told Jimin that you’d agree to this whole ordeal if Yoongi donated a large amount of money to the orphanage that you grew up in. You didn’t think he’d actually get it done but you were a little relieved knowing that at least going through with this was going to benefit many children in need. You made a mental note to thank Jimin later. Deep in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed how Yoongi had looked over at you with furrowed brows questioning that request.

Jin placed a pen down in front of you before clapping his hands together, “Alright now that that’s out of the way the two of you just need to sign and date here and here and we can all go on with our day.” Trying your best to hide your shaking hand you gently grasped the ivory pen taking a deep breath before signing away your life to this man you met less than 15 minutes ago. Handing the pen over to Yoongi he glared at you before releasing a loud sigh and roughly taking the pen from your grasp signing away his name. Once it was done Mrs. Min began to speak but was cutoff by Yoongi loudly pushing his chair back and slamming the pen down on the glass table, “I have places to be.” And with that he stormed out of the room loudly slamming the door behind him. Mr. And Mrs. Min along with the rest of the elders followed not long after giving you a nod goodbye. You looked up to Jin who gave you an apologetic smile. He patted your hand as he continued to pack up his belongings, “He’ll come around Y/N. Just give it some time. He puts on a tough act but underneath that harsh exterior is really a sweet kid who got lost along the way.” Going into this you thought maybe this could actually work out and the two of you could at the very least pretend to love each other. Now, after meeting for the first time, you’re not so sure.

[merakiui]

Would you make a list ranking which unique magics and they potentials are hottest to you 👀

👀 OMG YES???? Thank you for this opportunity, anon!!! I have so many thoughts about the unique magics!!

Here is my grand list:

1. Off With Your Head - this one is very self-explanatory. The control, the collar, the way it makes you unable to use your magic, Riddle’s sheer mastery over it and how he uses it so often in the game……. orz immensely hot to me.

2. Snake Whisper - the hypnosis and helplessness of the target paired with Jamil’s very obvious lust for power and control. The way we makes you call him master as well……. so yummy!!!

3. Dark Fire - no one understands Rollo’s charm more than I do. What do you mean his UM is fueled by the fear and distress of others, thus making it stronger?!?!?! OTL that has so much potential. I love it so much.

4. Shock the Heart - I would’ve placed this one lower only because it has so much appeal and yet it can only be used once on a person, but perhaps you can argue that makes it even hotter. Regardless, I love everything about Jade’s UM. The magical chant, the way you must look into his eye, the beautiful imagery the manga blessed us with… 😵‍💫 being forced to tell the truth no matter what…….

5. Laugh With Me - another one that’s so great for control. Ruggie’s UM would be so great for (forced) mutual masturbation. But also,,, it has the potential to be used in such horrifying ways. >:)

6. Split Card - clones. Gangbang. Need I say anymore?

7. Doodle Suit - I like the mind games that can come from this. Not knowing what’s your reality and what’s fantasy whenever Trey uses his UM is so hot. T^T I NEED HIM.

8. Fae of Maleficence - I think it’s more so the overwhelming power and horrifying range of this UM that makes it so attractive. Malleus is terrifyingly strong and this UM always reminds me of that, amongst other moments in the plot. In Idia’s words, truly a final boss.

9. Life is Fun - Fellow’s UM………. WOW. Maybe it deserves to be higher on the list, but because I’ve yet to officially experience Fellow in the game I will place it within this humble top ten. :D even so, it has too much potential and I love it.

10. It’s a Deal - hear me out……. this is such an overpowered UM and it’s all Azul’s to use (and abuse) as he pleases. Having such a dangerous UM where, if not for the contract, he would be more susceptible to overblot. AAAAAAA HE’S SO FINE. The UM chant is amazing, tako’s greed, the amount of powers he can build up because there seems to be no limit to the amount of contracts he makes!!! So hot to me. <3

11. Fairest One of All - Vil’s UM…… the ability to place a curse on anything that can’t be lifted until the conditions are met. AAAAAA SO MUCH POTENTIAL. OTL

12. I See You - this one is frightening but very on brand for Rook Hunt. ^^;;;; it makes stalking darling so much easier, but something tells me Rook wouldn’t use his UM because it defeats the thrill of hunting darling himself.

13. Meet in a Dream - this one is more whimsical than it is hot, but it still has plenty of potential because dreams can be anything and everything. There’s never any logic to them. Also,,, I love the idea of darling constantly seeing a silver-haired prince in their dreams. The dream sex surely goes crazy. :)

14. King’s Roar - it’s so powerful omg,,, more so that than it is hot. The only circumstance I can think of in which it’s hot is if Leona’s using it to turn all of your clothes to sand, but why would he need magic for that when he can easily take them off himself. ;D

15. Sleep Kiss - Epel’s UM is so dainty and Victorian to me. The glass coffin…… that’s so pretty. orz the way it also puts you to sleep,,, somno with Epel?!?!?!

16. Bind the Heart - I’m sorry the ranking is so low, Floyb. >_< it’s another UM that’s very good in a fight. I like it a lot, especially the way he says it hehe.

17. Far Cry Cradle - this one is very interesting!! I absolutely see the vision with it. Just not a lot of horny vision, unless it’s a scenario where he casts it on your sex toy or something just to play that memory back. >:3c

18. Unleash Beast - this one is so cute to me. Jack turning into a wolf is adorable. OTL thinking about how mesmerized the kids must be if and when he uses his UM back home. How exciting it is to climb up on his back and be carried around everywhere. :D I just think it’s very sweet.

19. Bet the Limit - this is great for fighting, but for things other than that,,,, but I do love how strong it is. Deuce’s UM is so cool. >w<

20. Oasis Maker - I AM SO SORRY, KALIM….. T^T I love his UM. I think it’s so fun!! Alas, it isn’t very hot in that sense to me. However, there are so many other aspects to Kalim that make him so wonderful hehe.

21. Gate to Underworld - it was incredibly attractive in book six. That sort of power,,,, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Idia and Ortho were successful in resetting the world. Outside of book six, the UM loses a few aura points. STYX Idia will forever be famous to me.

22. Living Bolt - apologies in advance to Sebek. His UM is so cool!!!! Just,,, not the hottest of UMs. WAAAA I’M SORRY, SEBEK!!!! OTL