#i've never written a strip scene before

[saltofmercury]

"a.m."

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Summary: Early morning scenes, small nightmare.

Author's note: HOLY CRAP it's been a while! I haven't written anything in almost a YEAR. I'm glad that I've finally got a lil kick of writing back in me :) This is something small I wrote back in May just to get the gears working again.

"a.m."

You can hear his breathing to your left. 

Morning is just peeking through– a soft gloom enveloping your room. You’re not sure what time he got in, or how he got in this time.

“Why do you even have a key?” you ask when he unlocks the balcony window.

“In case you’re not home to unlock it for me.” He smiles big and wide, stripping the weapons aside.

It’s become a running joke to you both on how he decides to enter your apartment.

Your eyes shoot open. There’s a mountain of pillows surrounding you, warm blankets on top of you. The room is dimly lit from streetlights. You're almost sure it hasn't been a full 8 hours and yet—- your body is telling you to wake up.

You turn towards him. You almost never get to see this side of him. His breathing, slow and rhythmic. He looks so much younger when he’s relaxed. He takes over most of the bed. Arms curled above him, he’s wrapped most of the top blanket around him.

The scar below his left eye is raised, his lips are puckered out. A soft moan escapes his lips, then his body twitches. You’re on high alert.

Nightmares aren’t new. The first couple of nights that he decided to stay over your apartment, you were woken up by whimpers and sudden movements. You would sometimes catch them before he woke up and carefully soothe him back to sleep– rubbing his cheek, placing kisses along his face. Whispering careful “i love you’s” and “you’re alright i’m here now”

By morning, it was like nothing happened at all.

For him, though he may never admit it, it was nice to experience vulnerability. The constant battle he has to get a full night's rest. A plague that encases him at night.

You move closer, placing your hand on his cheek, tracing the scar with your thumb. You place a kiss on his forehead between his brows, then over the scar on his cheek. 

“You’re alright, you’re okay” you murmur.

An exhale — 

his face contorts a bit, brows furrow, then an inhale through his nose.

A hand cups your elbow, rubbing side to side. He’s fighting sleep. His eyes try to peel open.

“What time is it?” His voice, low and groggy.

“It’s too early, almost 5 am” You kiss him, apologizing. 

He groans —not even an hour of sleep. 

“Were you having a nightmare?” 

“No, I got in around 4…” He adjusts himself, the bed springs, a yawn escapes. Deflecting the question.

Sleep carefully disintegrates from his eyes. He inhales, and his eyes blink open. He can make your face out in the darkness, the gloom behind you haloing.

His body, heavy with fatigue, he pushes it aside to get closer to you, wrapping himself around you.

Warmth, vanilla, home, love.

“I used the front door today…” he mentions. He's a little proud of himself.

You giggle, adjusting yourself under his chin. His hand pulls you closer, rubbing warmth to your back. His legs warm around you. 

“Wasn’t it so much easier?”

He scoffs, remembering how ridiculous it felt to walk in with his helmet. He had to disable the cameras in the entrance then double check for anyone in the hallway to not scare them off.

“Everyone was asleep… thankfully. I just couldn’t help but think someone would see me, then see me use a key to enter an apartment.”

You smile at how silly it sounds. The Red Hood having an apartment to come home to.

“It’s much better than entering through a balcony window.” you whisper.

He hums, “Entering through a balcony never gave me nightmares.”

Tracing circles on his back, you lull him back to sleep, waiting for his breathing to even out. You whisper more love into his ear, hoping it reaches his subconscious.

[daemour]

MDNI

➳Pairing: mafia boss! Wooyoung x f! nightclub owner! Reader

➳Genre: Mafia au, angst, hurt/comfort, some fluff, smut, E for explicit

➳Summary: The line between hate and love is thin. You're aware of this, and yet you can't help but love Wooyoung, no matter how badly he treats you.

➳Word Count: 15017

➳Warnings: Violence, toxic behaviour from a romantic partner, guns, death, murder, minor injuries, Wooyoung can be read as yandere-he's extremely possessive, manipulation, language, coersion, sexual innuendos [smut warnings under cut]

This was written for @sanjoongie's Year of the Villains: Year of the Snake collaboration! It was extremely fun to write for, despite all the emotion rollercoasters I went on (mostly of my own doing)

This is indeed a chonker of a fic, so I'd like to formally apologise >v< but please enjoy! It's got very dark themes, so please make sure to read the warnings amply!

A big thank you to @thelargefrye for helping me out with the plot!

➳Smut Warnings: Public touching (no intercourse), slight drunken sex (do not do this), some breast play, praise, degradation, dom/sub (Wooyoung dom, reader sub), unprotected (do not do this without prior discussion), oral (m), deepthroating, fingering (f), riding, !! UNDERNEGOTIATED GUN PLAY !! (do not do this)

➳Please Note: Some scenes will appear dubcon. In one, YN is tipsy, and in others, she has been in fear of Wooyoung prior. Please read at your own risk.

!! If I've missed any, please let me know !!

“C’mere, doll,” Wooyoung purrs. His lips pull into a wicked smile he has reserved for you, devoid of any softness. His eyes glint as he rakes his gaze up and down your body, every bit the kingpin of the drug scene in his city.

You step forward, your heels clicking with every step you take. You don’t remember how you ended up in this position, starting as a measly nightclub owner. But you hadn’t realised your club ran right in the strip he controls, and one day you were late with rent.

When he came personally, infamous drug lord Jung Wooyoung, something about you just caught his favour. And you can’t refuse his favour, not unless you wanted your club burnt to the ground.

As you move to take a seat next to him, Wooyoung tsks, raising a hand. “Not there,” he instructs, and you hesitate, your false confidence wavering.

“Where would you like me to sit?” you ask, although you know what his answer is going to be.

A smirk plays on his lips as he takes notice of your hesitation, clearly amused by the way you’re trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “On my lap, doll,” he commands, patting his thigh expectantly. His eyes gleam with a predatory intensity, making it clear this isn’t a request but an order from the man who holds your livelihood in his hands.

The air seems to thicken with tension as he waits for you to comply, the weight of his dominance palpable. It’s a subtle reminder of just how much power he wields, and how helpless you are against it.

You hesitate ever so slightly before moving towards him, your movements stiff. As you carefully settle yourself on the edge of his knees, you cross your ankles to try and keep some semblance of your composure.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes, displeased with the minimal contact between you two. Before you can do anything else, he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against his chest, his fingers digging into your body.

“Now, that’s better,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear as he presses a light kiss to your temple. His hand slides up your side, splaying across your waist possessively. “You look even prettier when you’re squirming under my touch.”

Your eyes flick nervously towards the other crime bosses lining the table. Although none of them are as influential as Wooyoung, you still never would’ve expected to see them so close. As Wooyoung’s hands continue to roam your body, you try not to flinch or squirm so much, not willing to hear lewd comments or see the leering from the others.

“Your rings are cold,” you mutter in Wooyoung’s ear as you lean away from his touch ever so slightly. It’s a bid to get him to focus his attention elsewhere, although you know it’ll be in vain.

At your quiet comment, Wooyoung chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “Oh, they’ll be warmed up soon enough,” he retorts, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your skirt to brush against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is deliberate, meant to break your fragile attempts at appearing demure. “If you’re truly feeling chilly, maybe we should find a way to heat things up, no?”

With that, he pulls your head towards him, capturing your lips in a brutal kiss that leaves you breathless with no doubt about his intentions. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming it as his own.

Fidgeting, you turn your head to whisper to him, “There are men here…” You turn your eyes down, avoiding meeting his gaze.

“Let them watch, doll,” he purrs, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment before shifting to the assembled men. “They all know who you belong to.” Despite his words, he does have business to attend to, and he reins in his affection, though his hands still wander your body possessively.

As the meeting progresses, as much as you try to pay attention, he leans in to murmur something in your ear, reminding both you and everyone else that you’re his plaything.

When a particularly heated discussion arises, Wooyoung’s grip on your thigh tenses, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin in a twisted comfort. It’s a silent message—stay close, stay quiet, and remember your place in this world.

You keep your eyes trained on the wall, although you can still feel the stares of everyone on your body. Wooyoung’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. The unspoken warning is clear; keep your eyes and hands to yourself, lest he shows exactly why he’s the kingpin.

As the meeting winds down, Wooyoung rises to his feet, pulling you up with him. He keeps a firm hold on your waist, guiding you through the crowded room, the men parting for him. Once outside, he releases you abruptly, stepping back to light a cigarette.

“You did well tonight, doll,” he remarks, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Remember, you’re mine to flaunt or hide, whenever I please.” With that, he turns to leave, expecting you to follow without question.

Before you can move to follow, a hand grabs your wrists and yanks you back. You come face to face with a face you’ve seen on papers Wooyoung leaves out rarely—an up and coming drug lord, one new enough to not realise exactly how damning it can be to cross Wooyoung. You quickly yank your arm out of his grip, holding back from striking the man in his neck.  “Now, hold on,” he grins like a cat waiting to swallow a bird. “Why don’t we share?”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrow to slits as he spins around, his expression deadly calm. “Sharing isn’t exactly my style,” he drawls, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. “Especially when it comes to what’s mine.”

His gaze flickers to the man holding you captive, a silent threat hanging in the air. After a tense moment, you’re released, the man stepping back with a sheepish grin.

“I was just joking, kingpin. No need to get testy,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Wooyoung watches him for another beat before nodding curtly. “See that you keep it that way,” he warns before turning back to you. “Let’s go, doll. We have business to attend to.”

As we start to leave again, the man mutters under his breath, apparently just wishing for death, “Why bring your plaything along if we can’t use it? Might as well ask us to lick your ass.”

Unfortunately for him, Wooyoung’s hearing is sharp.

His expression darkens further at his subordinate’s crude remark, his grip on your arm tightening almost painfully. “You want a piece of my action, huh?” he sneers, spinning to face the insolent man once more.

Before you can even react, Wooyoung’s fist connects with the lord’s jaw, sending him crashing to the ground. The sound of cracking bone echoes as he delivers a vicious kick to his ribs, pinning him beneath his boot.

“You forget your place, fool,” Wooyoung snaps, his face contorting with fury. “My ‘plaything’ is off-limits to every last one of you. Touch her again, and you’ll wish for death before you even have time to blink.”

With a final, brutal stop, Wooyoung lends down and presses the butt of his cigarette to the lord’s forehead, branding him with shame before flicking the ashes onto the floor and straightening up.

“Apologies for the interruption, doll. Let’s get out of here before someone else decides to try me,” he hums, his voice softening until it’s almost unrecognisable.

He leads you away from the scene, his pace quick and purposeful. The silence is heavy, the tension from before still simmering in the air. As you reach his car parked a block away, Wooyoung finally speaks, his voice low and measured. “That was a mistake, letting him get under my skin like that. But you saw how quickly I dealt with him, right? Don’t worry, no one touches you without my permission.” He glances at you sidelong, his eyes intense.

You nod shakily, legs trembling from the biting winter wind. “I know…I just wish you wouldn’t lose your temper like that,” you mutter. His bursts of anger always scare you, but Wooyoung’s still riled up and your timing was wrong.

His grip on your elbow tightens, his knuckles whitening as he pulls you closer. “You think I enjoy losing control?” he snarls, lips curling. “I do it to protect what’s mine, including you. It’s my responsibility as the kingpin. How do you think you’ve remained safe? If you can’t handle that, maybe you should find somewhere else to be.” There’s a challenge in his tone, daring you to defy him.

You stumble a little, heels slipping in the ice as you shake your head quickly. You can’t afford to lose his favour. “I meant nothing of it,” you squeak out, shivering at both his intense stare and the wind blowing through your bones. You regret forgoing a coat. “I’m just worried for you.”

Wooyoung heaves a sigh, his expression softening slightly at your words, some of the aggression draining from his stance. He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your chilled skin. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. Just focus on staying by my side, and let me handle the rest. You care too much about people, with disregard for yourself.” Oh, how false his words are.

He steps closer, enveloping you in his warmth as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, get in the car and warm up. We need to head home to get you out of the cold.” He guides you forward, his tone reassuring, but there’s an underlying edge that suggests he won’t tolerate any further dissent.

You try to keep yourself from tripping as you hurry forward to slide into the passenger seat. Your face is warm from his touch, but your heart is twisted at his sweet words. The back-and-forth of his actions always confused you, and today is no exception. A constant question in your mind is why he keeps you around.

As Wooyoung slips into the driver’s seat, he pauses for a moment, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

“Get comfortable, doll. We’ve got a long ride to the apartment,” he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the air.

Once you’re settled and the car is heated up, he pulls out of the parking spot, merging seamlessly into the late-night traffic. The silence between you stretches, punctuated only by the hum of the tires and the occasional blare of a horn.

Your hand twitches as you debate whether to indulge yourself and reach out to hold his hand resting on the console. It’s not wise to entangle yourself further into his web, but as much as you know you shouldn’t, you crave his touch as well.

Wooyoung notices your hesitation, his piercing gaze flickering to your hand before returning to the road. A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth as he senses your inner turmoil.

“After all these months, you still can’t decide whether to bite or run, hmm?” he muses, his tone laced with amusement and a hint of something else you can’t place. “It’s cute, really.”

Without looking away from the road, he lifts his free hand, extending his fingers invitingly. “Come on, doll. Go ahead.”

Tentatively, you reach out to interlock your fingers with his, enjoying the warmth his hand brings to you. As soon as your hands connect, Wooyoung’s thumb begins to rub gentle circles, applying gentle pressure. “There you are, doll. Just relax,” he coos, his voice dripping with honeyed persuasion.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, the sensation both soothing and electrifying. You can’t help but lean into his side, craving more of his comforting heat.

As the miles fly by, Wooyoung continues to play with your hand, his caresses gradually becoming bolder. His fingers dance across your palm, tracing intricate patterns that leave goosebumps in their wake.

Despite the intimacy of the gesture, there’s always a quiet reminder in the back of your mind that he’s a dangerous man, and that in his world, you belong to him. Both body and soul.

-

Weeks pass, and the nightclub is hosting a private party for Wooyoung’s closest associates. Instead of attending as an owner, you’re Wooyoung’s guest. It’s almost embarrassing to be seen as this by your employees, but there’s enough liquor in your stomach that it doesn’t bother you as much as it should.

Wooyoung stands beside you, his arm slung casually around your shoulders as he surveys the crowded room. The dim lighting casts a flattering glow on his features, making him look every inch the powerful kingpin he is.

You’re doing great, doll. The place looks amazing tonight,” he praises, his lips curling into a smile. “My boys are enjoying themselves.”

He nods towards a group of suited men, their clothing a stark contrast to the colourful lights and their wives’ pretty dresses. They’re clearly mafia men, and the way they watch the room with calculating gazes makes it clear they’re always on high alert.

Wooyoung leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “And don’t forget, you’re my doll tonight. So behave yourself and make sure everyone knows it.”

You nod happily, the alcohol in your system making you more responsive to his commands. Although you usually do end up bending to his will, there’s always pushback at first. Tonight, however, you’re content with being a good doll.

Wooyoung smiles fondly, chuckling low in his throat as he pulls you closer. “That’s more like it, sweetheart. I like seeing you happy and compliant,” he purrs, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm.

As the night wears on, Wooyoung keeps a possessive grip on you, ensuring everyone present knows you’re his. He introduces you to his associates as his “wife”, the endearment rolling off his tongue with a casual ease that makes your stomach flutter.

When a particularly bold associate approaches, thinking he can steal your attention, Wooyoung’s reaction is swift and decisive. He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him with an eyebrow raised and a sharp statement on his tongue. “Hands off. She’s mine.”

The man backs off, and Wooyoung turns his attention back to you, a smug grin playing on his lips. “See, doll? No need to worry, or fight for yourself. Just remember, I’m always going to protect you.”

He guides you towards the bar, ordering another round of drinks for you. As the bartender prepares the cocktails, Wooyoung’s hand finds its way to your hip, squeezing gently. “It’s a successful party,” he informs you, his tone businesslike despite the gleam in his eye. “But after this, we’ll celebrate in style…privately.”

His words leave no room for argument, not that you want to. He’s been in such a good mood since the last investment meeting with the other mafia families, and you’d like to try and take advantage of this rare occasion.

You nod agreeable, face flushed warm as you lean in to press your cheek against his. “Okay,” you hum, a slur to your words. “Want me to clear a room here or go back to th’ apartment?”

Wooyoung’s expression morphs into a quiet amusement at your state, a glint sparking in his eyes. “Leave the club to my people. We’ll head back to the penthouse,” he instructs, his voice low and husky.

As he steers you towards the exit, Wooyoung’s hand never leaves your lower back, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch. Once outside, he flags down a waiting limousine and helps you inside before sliding in beside you.

During the short ride, the tension between you builds, the air thick with unspoken desires. As soon as the car pulls up to the building, Wooyoung opens the door and assists you out, his strong arms wrapping around you to support your weight.

Inside the lavish penthouse, he hands you a glass of water, sobering you up a little more before leading you straight to the bedroom, closing the door behind you with a resolute click.

You smile dopily at him, the alcohol flushing itself out of your system but the high of a party still lingering in your bones. Wooyoung’s gaze rakes over your dishevelled appearance, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Looks like someone had a bit too much fun tonight,” he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

He starts to undress you slowly, his fingers deftly working to free yourself of the dress. As the fabric falls away, revealing your body, he lets out a low whistle of approval.

“You look delicious like this doll,” he murmurs, his hands skimming your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. “All pretty and pouting for me.”

With deliberate slowness, he peels off his own clothes exposing his chiseled physique to your eager gaze. Once naked, he pulls you into his arms, pressing his hardening length against your lower stomach as he claims your mouth in a searing kiss.

Happily, you let your mouth drop open for him to take from, whining quietly as your hands tug lightly at his long hair. He groans into the kiss, his tongue diving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. As he deepens the kiss, he walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed, before gently lowering you into the plush mattress.

Straddling your hips, he breaks the kiss just long enough to trail his lips along your jawline and down the column of your throat. “I’ve wanted you all night, baby,” he admits, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

His hands roam your body, mapping out every inch of you with a reverent touch. His cups your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, coaxing needy moans from your parted lips. His touch is gentle, and you crave it.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” Wooyoung demands, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me you’re mine, completely and utterly.”

“I’m yours, completely and utterly,” you parrot, before mirroring his title for you at the party. “Please, ‘husband’. I want you so bad, Wooyoung.”

A triumphant smirk plays on Wooyoung’s lips as he hears your plea. “Good girl,” he praises, his words tinged with dominance. “Now, be a good wife and spread those pretty legs for me.”

As soon as you do so, he settles between your thighs, the tip of his erection teasing your slick entrance. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, mingling with your own feverish arousal.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t remember your own name,” he promises, his voice a husky growl. With that, he thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. A guttural moan escapes him as he savours the wet heat enveloping his cock.

You moan in tandem, back arching as he stretches you out so well. “Ah– please,” you whine.

Wooyoung sets a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward with each powerful thrust, smacking against your cunt with wet sounds. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his deep groans.

Leaning down, he captures your mouth in another bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you with increasing intensity. One of his large hands grips your thigh, using it as leverage to drive himself even deeper.

When he breaks the kiss, he nips and sucks at your neck, marking you as his. “Look at me, baby,” he commands, eyes blazing with hunger. “Watch me while I claim this pussy and mark it as mine.

His gaze locks onto your face, the raw lust in his expression sending a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

You slowly raise your eyes to meet his as your hips stutter and your eyes well up with tears from the please. “Wooyoung– ah–” you moan his name repeatedly like a prayer on your lips.

The sight of tears glistening in your eyes only spurs Wooyoung on, his thrusts becoming more erratic and forceful. He leans down, his forehead resting against yours as he pants heavily.

“That’s right, baby. I’m your ‘husband’, your master,” he growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending release. “This cunt belongs to me, understand?”

To emphasise his point, he reaches down and rubs tight circles over your clit, the added stimulation pushing you closer to the edge. His movements become more targeted, hitting that spot inside you with each snap of his hips. “Come for me, doll. Let me feel this sweet pussy clench around me,” he demands, his thumb pressing insistently against your sensitive bud.

It doesn’t take much before you come easily with a shriek, creaming around his cock as you squeeze around him like a vice. It’s almost like you’re sucking him in deeper, and it triggers his own release. Wooyoung throws his head back with a guttural moan as he presses his hips against yours impossibly close. His cock pulses and throbs, shooting thick ropes of searing hot come into your cunt.

“Fuck– take it all, you perfect, pretty wife,” he snarls, grinding against you to prolong your pleasure. Wave after wave of pleasure crash over him, his body shuddering with the aftershocks.

As he finally relaxes, he leans on top of you, careful to not crush you with his weight. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses along your sweat-dampened skin between heavy pants. “Thank you, doll,” he murmurs, his voice still rough but a hint of gentleness in it.

You hum, turning in his arms to smile at him. The alcohol is almost out of your system now, and it’s been replaced with a warmth in your belly from his sweet treatment. Your hand moves to cup his cheek gently as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I wish you were like this all the time,” you hum, more to yourself than anything. Maybe it would’ve been easier to love him.

Wooyoung stiffens slightly at your words, a flicker of something—Guilt? Regret?—passing over his features before it’s quickly masked. He rolls off of you, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

“You know I can’t be soft all the time, doll,” he says, his tone carefully neutral. “The world I live in, it requires a certain ruthlessness. But this…” he gestures between the two of you “this is real. You’re the only one who gets to see this side of me.”

His words shock you, a sincere admission of the feelings he hides. He turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t ask for things you don’t fully understand, doll. My love may not be conventional, but it’s not false. I protect what’s mine, even if I have to do it in ways you don’t always like.”

You nod slowly, hurt flickering in your eyes, although it mixes with an understanding. “I know, Wooyoung. Just…grant it to me in private. Please.”

Wooyoung sighs deeply, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. After a moment of contemplation, he sits up and pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

“Alright, doll. I’ll try,” he agrees softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “But you have to promise me something in return. Promise me you’ll never leave me, no matter what happens. Out there in that cruel world, you’re my only light in the darkness.”

His arms tighten around you possessively, as if afraid you might disappear. “I know I’m not an easy man to be with, but you’re stuck with me now. We’re bound together, for better or worse,” he states like it’s what makes the world go round, tilting your chin up with a finger to get you to meet his intense gaze.

You smile at him, eyes shining with an unspoken emotion. Although there are times you question his feelings, moments like these remind you just how much he truly does love you, in his own way. Guilt gnaws at your gut, but it mixes with the warmth of your misplaced love, and you lean up to press a kiss against his lips. “I’ll stay,” you murmur. “I’ll stay.”

Wooyoung returns the kiss with a tenderness that belies his usual rough exterior, pouring all his pent-up emotions into the gentle caress of his lips against yours. When he finally pulls away, his dark eyes are filled with a rare vulnerability.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with genuine gratitude and affection. “I know I don’t say it nearly enough, and I show it even less, but…I love you, doll. More than anything in my fucked up world.”

He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, his touch gentle. “Get some rest now, baby. Tomorrow’s a new day, and I want you well rested.” WIth that, he settles back against the pillows, pulling you flush against his side.

You curl into him, throwing an arm around him as you press your face into his neck. “I love you too. My love,” you murmur, as much as it pains you to admit.

A contented rumble emanates from Wooyoung’s chest as he wraps his strong arms around you, holding you close and enjoying your warmth. “That’s right, my sweet doll,” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing purr. “Sleep now, and dream of a world where we love each other freely.”

Despite his tone’s roughness, there’s a tenderness in his words and actions, a loving protectiveness that you’ve craved for so long. You feel cherished, and as it overwhelms the sadness in your heart, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of his heart and the comforting weight of his arms around you.

As your breath evens out, Wooyoung remains awake, watching your face with a fierce devotion. His mind wanders to the enemies he must confront and the dangers that lurk in every shadow. But for now, in this quiet moment of peace, he allows himself to enjoy the feeling of having you by his side.

Gently, he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw. “I’d do anything to keep you,” he vows under his breath, a claim over your heart. “Anything at all, to make you mine.”

With that thought, he closes his eyes, his dreams filled with visions of a future where you’re safe, and forever his perfect doll. A world where his darkness is gone and your love is pure.

-

When morning arrives, you roll over only to be met with an empty bed and a note on the bedside table.

‘Good morning, doll.

I had to take care of some business today, but don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, treat yourself and have a bath. We’ll have a busy evening ahead of us.

Wooyoung’

There’s a faint scent of his cologne lingering on the paper, a tangible reminder of his presence even though he’s not here with you. You can’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and trepidation, wondering what pulled him away so suddenly. Nevertheless, you decide to follow his advice and indulge in a leisurely morning routine.

As much as your heart aches waking up alone, the bath relaxes you, and you fall fast asleep, sinking deeper into the water.

Hours pass unnoticed as you nap peacefully in the warm, fragrant bathwater. Each soft breath makes your body relax more and more as the sun starts to set.

Just as you begin to stir, a sudden commotion erupts downstairs, the cacophony of raised voices and scuffling feet jolting you awake. Startled, you sit up abruptly, sending water splashing over the edge of the tub. The cool air hits your damp skin, causing you to shiver involuntarily.

Concerned, you quickly dry off and slip into a robe, hurrying down the hall to investigate the source of the disturbance. As you reach the corner, a hulking figure emerges from the shadows, blocking your path.

The imposing man steps forward, revealing a bruised and bloody face, one that is vaguely familiar. He’s clearly been in a fight, and judging by the menacing glint in his eye, he’s far from finished.

“Well, well, well,” he sneers, his gaze raking over you with a lecherous hunger. “Looks like the boss’s little puppet is all grown up and ripe for the taking.”

His words spark panic in you, but before you can react, he lunges at you, grabbing a fistful of your robe and yanking you hard towards him. His hot breath fans your hair as he growls, “Seems Jung has been neglecting his duties. Time to show you what real men can do.”

You struggle against his iron grip, but he’s far stronger than you. You don’t want to go back, and you scream, “Wooyoung–” before stomping on the man’s foot and biting into his hand in a bid to get away.

When his grip loosens, you book it to the bedroom, diving for the loaded gun Wooyoung keeps in the bedside table.

Bloodied and enraged, the attacker gives chase, his heavy footsteps thundering down the hall as you frantically search for the gun. Just as your fingers close around the cold metal, he slams into the doorframe, leaning against it heavily.

“Foolish bitch,” he snarls, reaching out to grab at you once more but missing with his clumsy movement. “You think a little toy like that will save you? You belong back with us.”

His words confuse you, but you don’t falter, whirling around in a flash and aiming the gun at his head. “Stay back! I won’t hesitate to use this!”

The intruder scoffs, unfazed by the weapon. “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots. Go ahead, shoot me. It’ll just make the boss angrier. You’ve stalled for too long.”

Your finger twitches but you don’t shoot, not yet. Deep down, you realise what he’s talking about, and your arms shake, but your aim remains steady. “I’ll take Wooyoung’s wrath over returning,” you snap. “I’m his doll.”

The man’s smirk fathers for a split second at your declaration, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his battered features. He seems to weigh his options, calculating the risks and rewards.

“I’ll give you credit, sweetheart,” he says slowly. “You’ve got spirit. But that won’t save you from me, or the boss. And it certainly won’t save you from anyone who wants a piece of whatever Jung owns.”

He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his movements measured and menacing. “Now, either you hand over that gun and come with me willingly, or I’ll take it by force and make you regret ever double crossing me or the boss.”

As he advances, you find yourself backed against the wall, the gun still clutched in your white-knuckled hands. Your mind races, desperate for a solution, but the reality of your situation is grim.

Just as the man reaches out, you fire a bullet straight between his eyes. Blood splatters across the room as the intruder crumples to the ground, dead before he even hits the ground. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. And as the gunshot rings in your ears, the door crashes open to reveal Wooyoung, blood streaming down his face and his nose crooked, but alive.

For a long moment, Wooyoung stands frozen, his gaze locked on the lifeless body at your feet. Then, with a low growl, he stalks towards you, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness.

“What the fuck happened while I was gone?” he demands, his voice low and dangerous. “Who sent this bastard?”

Before you can respond, he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his intense stare. “And why the hell did you think you needed to defend yourself? You’re supposed to stay hidden and safe, not play hero with my fucking guns.” His grip tightens, a hint of fear staining the anger in his voice and gaze.

Your eyes dart between him and the body, the adrenaline wearing off and the weight of what you’ve done settling in your stomach. “I…I didn’t know where you were,” you try to explain, your voice sounding foreign even to yourself. “I killed a man. I killed him…I’m a murder.”

As you start to panic, your voice raises in pitch, hands shaking as you drop the gun. Your knees start to buckle. With a swift motion, Wooyoung catches you as you collapse, holding you upright against his broad chest. He strokes your hair soothingly, his touch gentle despite the turmoil raging in his eyes.

“It’s okay, baby,” he coos, his voice a stark contrast to the fury that had consumed him mere moments ago. “You didn’t murder anyone. This son of a bitch had it coming. You defended yourself and me.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he tries to calm your frantic heartbeat. “I should’ve been here to protect you, or brought you with me. Instead, I left you vulnerable, and this is what happens.”

His own breathing grows ragged, the weight of what happened finally crushing him. “We need to get out of here, clean up this mess. Can you stand for me, doll? I need you strong right now.”

You scramble up, leaning against the wall to steady yourself. You can’t keep your stare off the body, even as Wooyoung is hurriedly stuffing a handful of belongings in a duffle bag. He tosses fabric—a dress—in your face. “Put it on. You’re still in just a robe. We don’t have time for anything else,” he commands.

You quickly follow his instruction even as your mind whirs. As you slip into the dress, Wooyoung’s eyes roam over your stiff and stilted movements, a mix of concern and possessiveness flashing across his features. Satisfied that you’re covered, he nods curtly and zips up the duffle bag.

“Let’s go,” he orders, gripping your wrist firmly and leading you out of the room and then the penthouse. The sound of sirens wail in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.

He hustles you through the darkened streets, keeping to the shadows as they navigate the labyrinthine alleys of the city. The cool night air does little to calm your racing heart, and you can feel the tension from Wooyoung radiating through his taut muscles.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally slows, guiding you into a nondescript building. It appears abandoned from the outside, but as Wooyoung ushers you inside, it becomes clear that it serves as a secret hideout. The space is sparse but well-equipped, with surveillance monitors lining one wall and a cache of weapons mounted on another.

Wooyoung sets the duffle bag down and turns to face you, his expression grave. “This is our safe house,” he explains, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s where we go when shit hits the fan.”

He steps closer, cupping your face in his calloused hands. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realised were falling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “That will never happen again. I swear it on my life.”

Wooyoung’s words hang heavy in the air, a promise forged in the heat of adrenaline and desperation. He pulls you into a fierce embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck as if seeking solace in your warmth. For a long moment, he simply holds you, his breaths uneven and ragged against your skin. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes burn with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I need you to stay here, lock yourself in the back room until morning,” he instructs, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for disagreement. “I’ll deal with the aftermath of tonight, but you’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

He brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “Rest, doll. I’ll be back before you know it.”

As he turns to leave, you can’t help yourself and reach out to take his wrist, a pleading look in your eyes. “Please promise me,” you beg. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

At your desperate plea, Wooyoung’s resolve falters. He looks down at your hands wrapped around your wrist, then back up at your tear streaked face. A pained expression crosses his features before he forces himself to nod.

“I promise, doll,” he vows, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ll come back to you, no matter what. You’re mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” With those words, he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his love, fear, and determination into the passionate embrace. When he finally breaks away, he presses a final, tender kiss to your forehead.

“I mean it,” he whispers fiercely. “Wait for me, and I’ll return to you.”

As soon as he exits with one last glance towards you, you quickly follow his instruction, locking yourself in the back bedroom and shoving a dresser in front of the door for good measure. While you wait for his return, your mind wanders back to the moment you shot the man, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Hours pass in tense silence, the only sounds being the distant hum of the city and the occasional creak of the old building settling around you. You pace the cramped confines of the room, your thoughts jumbled mess of fear, guilt, and anticipation.

The memory of pulling the trigger replays in your mind like a macabre filmstrip, each detail etched into your brain with painful clarity. The feel of the gun’s weight in your hand, the click of the safety disengaging, the sudden bloom of crimson as the bullet tore through flesh and bone…

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shake off the haunting images. But they linger, refusing to be banished. Just as despair begins to creep in, you head the sounds of footsteps approaching, followed by the rattle of keys unlocking the door.

When it tries to open, but thuds against the dresser instead, you can practically see Wooyoung’s exasperated but fond expression in his voice. “Really, doll?”

You quickly rush over to shove the drawers away, thankful for a distraction from your spiralling thoughts. Wooyoung pushes past the now-cleared barrier, his face a mask of exhaustion and relief. The blood is still on his face, but his nose is set back into place, a bruise blooming over the mottled skin. He cans the room, ensuring you’re unharmed before letting out a sigh and collapsing on the edge of the cot.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he chides, reaching out to tug you onto his lap. His strong arms envelop you, cradling you close as he buries his face in your hair. “I thought…God, I thought I’d lost you.”

He rocks you gently, his breaths evening out as the adrenaline fades. After a moment, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “We need to talk about what happened,” he says, his tone serious but not unkind. “But first, let’s get you cleaned up and sleep. You’ve been through enough for one night.”

You lean into his touch, body relaxing despite your racing heart and mind. “We’re safe?” you want to confirm.

Wooyoung nods solemnly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm like he did in his car not even a month ago. “Yes, we’re safe. The body’s been taken care of, and the police won’t find anything linking us to the scene.”

He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “There might be some repercussions within our organisation, but I’ve got everything under control. You don’t need to worry about that right now.” Leaning in, he places a soft kiss on your temple. “All that matters is that you’re here with me, alive and unharmed. That’s all that matters.”

At his reassurance, your lips wobble, and that’s the only warning he gets before you burst into tears, sobs wracking your body. You can’t even form coherent words as the events of the day hit��

Wooyoung’s arms tighten around you as you break down, holding you close while you cry. He doesn’t try to comfort you with empty words or false promises; instead, he lets you pour out your emotions, offering only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the solid warmth of his body.

After a while, your sobs gradually subside, leaving you gasping for air and clinging to him like a lifeline. Wooyoung strokes your hair soothingly, his own eyes red-rimmed from the stress of the night.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Let it out, baby. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

He waits patiently until your breathing evens out, then gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. Since you’ve calmed down more, Wooyoung helps you stand and leads you to the small bathroom tucked away in the corner of the room. He starts running warm water in the shower, gesturing for you to undress and step into the stream.

As you wash away the grime and blood of the night, he keeps watch, his eyes never leaving you. When you emerge, dripping and shivering, he wraps you in a towel and dries you off himself, his hands gentle yet possessive.

After you’ve dried off properly and changed into a set of clean clothes, he brings you to the tiny kitchen area, making a warm meal for you. As you eat, he sits beside you, occasionally feeding you bites from his own plate when you’re too exhausted to manage to eat more than a few spoonfuls.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, eyelids heavy as you fight to stay awake and chew mindlessly. “I fucked it up, didn’t I?”

Wooyoung sets his fork down, his expression melting into one of sadness as he reaches out to cup your cheek. “No, baby, you didn’t fuck it up. You did what needed to be done to protect yourself. I’m proud of you, doll.” He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pushing your bowl away. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. We both need rest after tonight.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his soft touch. “Okay,” you mumble, yawn escaping your mouth. “I’m sorry,” the apology leaves your mouth again without thinking, and Wooyoung chuckles with no amusement, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. Your safety always comes first, okay?” He stands, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. “Besides, you’re mine. Shouldn’t I be the one handling everything? Rest tonight, doll.”

Carrying you to the small bed, he lays you down gently and pulls the covers over your chilled form before climbing in beside you. His arms wrap around your waist, tugging you back against his warm chest. “I’ve got you, doll,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear and his heartbeat lulling you into a relaxed state. “Sleep now, and dream of better days.”

As your eyes shut and sleep claims you, Wooyoung remains vigilant, his eyes never fully closing as he watches over you. Despite the weariness etched on his face, his grip on you remains firm, a silent promise of protection.

Hours later, the first light of dawn creeps through the grimy windows, casting a pale glow over the room. Wooyoung’s hold on you loosens slightly as exhaustion finally overtakes him, and he drifts off into a fitful slumber, still cradling you close. The sounds of the waking city filter in, a distant reminder of the world beyond this cramped sanctuary. But for now, in the quiet moments before reality sets in, a fleeting peace is found.

-

A few hours later, you awaken, blinking away the sunlight shining into your eyes. Wooyoung stirs beside you, your minimal movements waking him up easily.

He sits up, stretching his arms above his head and yawning before turning to regard you with a serious expression. “We need to discuss what happened last night,” he begins, his voice calm yet authoritative. “You were targeted because of our closeness, which means our situation just got a little more complicated.”

There’s a long pause as Wooyoung studies your expression intently. “Doll. I need you to be truthful with me. Did you know that man…the one you had killed?” His gaze is piercing, searching for an answer in your face. In this moment, he looks every inch the powerful kingpin, but there’s a vulnerability lurking beneath the surface—a fear that you had betrayed him, turned your back on him.

Your hesitation gives him the answer he needs, and you flinch, waiting for his usual anger to snap, but there’s a long silence. When you crack your eyes open, Wooyoung’s gaze hasn’t left your face. He’s waiting for your explanation.

“He…he’s part of your rival’s gang. The one I was a part of.” Your voice grows more and more timid as you continue talking, but Wooyoung still does not make a noise. “I was selected to take the place of the old owner of the nightclub, and my job was to try and feed information. When you took favour to me, they thought it would be a good opportunity. But I changed my mind at that point. I didn’t want to betray you, and I swear I didn’t do anything against you for the last few years—not since I was allowed to attend meetings. I didn’t want to betray you because–” you cut yourself off.

A flicker of something you can’t place crosses Wooyoung’s features, replaced swiftly by his usual stoic mask, making you wonder if you were just seeing things. “Good,” he says simply, before leaning in and pinning you still with his gaze. “Because I’m not letting you go anymore, no matter what happens.”

He rises from the bed, extending a hand to help you up. “First things first, we need to get you some proper clothes and supplies. Can’t have my doll looking like that, now can we?”

The smirk on his face is playful, but there’s an underlying steel to his words. This is a man who always gets what he wants, and right now, he wants to see you looking the part he wants you to play—a symbol of his power and status, and the failed attempt to rattle his spot as kingpin.

“Come on, let’s get moving,” he urges, not letting you wonder about his unbothered attitude at your confession. You let him lead you towards the door with a firm grip on your hand, just happy he hasn’t killed you on the spot, and is returning to his confident self.

“Wooyoung…” you can’t help but to ask as he unlocks his car parked behind the old building “...I understand if you can’t trust me, so you don’t have to answer. But what was the business you were taking care of? It said in the note you left for me last night, and then when you came, you were hurt. What happened?”

Wooyoung slides into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a smooth hum. As he navigates through the early morning traffic, he glances at you sidelong, his expression unreadable. “I went to see my associates. And it got a little out of control. Nothing to worry about.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, a habit that betrays his agitation. “Last night was a warning, doll. Someone thinks they can challenge my authority and test loyalties. But they picked the wrong man.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw as he accelerates through a yellow light. “Rest assured, I’ll deal with them accordingly. But for now, let’s focus on getting you settled and comfortable. That’s my priority.”

There’s a subtle emphasis on the word ‘my’, a reminder that, despite the lie you had lived, Wooyoung will always put your needs first. At least, that’s how Wooyoung sees it.

As you arrive at a high-end boutique, Wooyoung parks the car and rounds the hood to open your door, offering his hand to assist you. Inside, he browses the racks with an expert eye, selecting pieces that showcase your body in the most flattering way possible.

“You look stunning, doll,” he murmurs, helping you into a sleek black dress that flows around your figure like second nature. The material drapes elegantly across your hips and thighs, the neckline plunging just enough to make his pulse quicken.

He steps back to admire his handiwork, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Perfect.”

You smile slowly at him, finally feeling more and more secure in your relationship with him, the murder you committed pushed to the back of your mind. “As you wish it, I shall be whatever you desire.”

Wooyoung’s eyes darken at your words, a thrill of possession coursing through him. He steps closer, his large frame enveloping you as he trails his fingers down the side of your neck, leaving a tingling path in his wake.

“Indeed,” he rumbles, his breath hot against your ear. “My beautiful, obedient doll. Always dressed to please me, ready to fulfill her duties.” His hand slips lower, grazing the swell of your hip before settling on your thigh. The contact is electric, sending sparks dancing along your nerve endings.

“But remember, doll, you’re mine, body and soul. Don’t you ever forget that,” he continues, his voice low and menacing. With that, he releases you, stepping back to survey his work once more. “Now, shall we continue on, my dear?”

Your face flushed, you nod. “Yes, Wooyoung.” In moments like these, it’s easy to pretend that the two of you are a normal married couple, and it’s somewhat comforting. “Where to next?”

Wooyoung leans down to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Come, there’s a surprise for you. One to mark you as mine, truly and irrevocably.” He leads you to a jewelers, the woman behind the counter handing him a beautiful glass case.

Inside, a delicate necklace adorned with an intricate diamond pattern sits atop the velvet cloth. As he opens it and fastens it around your neck, his fingers press into your skin. Your breath catches in your throat. “Thank you, Wooyoung,” you gasp, quiet awe in your voice. You twist and lean in to peck his lips gently.

His lips curve into a smug smile as he accepts your kiss and your thanks, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you flush against him. “Anytime, my doll,” he murmurs against your mouth, his own lips brushing yours with a hint of hunger.

For a moment, he lets himself indulge in the fantasy, imagining that his is indeed a relationship built on love and affection, rather than power plays and manipulation. But reality soon snaps him back to attention, and he steps away, clearing his throat. “Let’s finish up here and head back to the penthouse,” he suggests, his tone returning to its usual commanding cadence. “I have some business to attend to, and it requires you to be by my side.”

It’s an unspoken reminder that your safety depends on your compliance and proximity to him. He still hasn’t quite given you a reaction to all the truth you had revealed to him. You nod with no further comment, reaching out to grasp his hand quietly as he leads you through the district.

Wooyoung glances at your pensive face, his eyes roving over your features. “You look stunning, doll. Like the queen you are,” he compliments you quietly, the last soft moment he allows you. And with that, the spell is broken.

As you step out of the area, Wooyoung’s demeanour shifts, his gaze hardening as he scans the\ surroundings. His grip on your hand tightens, a silent warning.

“We need to move,” he growls, ushering you to the awaiting car. “I’ve received intel that someone may be tracking your movements. Can’t be too careful these days.”

Once inside the car, he checks his phone with a frown, clearly displeased by whatever message he’s reading. Without saying anything, he speeds off, carrying you both towards the towering skyscraper that serves as Wooyoung’s second lair. The tension in the air is palpable, a stark contrast to the earlier intimacy.

As the two of you walk into the opulent penthouse, Wooyoung’s presence commands every inch of space. The cityscape stretches out before you, a glittering canvas painted by the setting sun. “Welcome home, my doll,” he declares, gesturing grandly to the lavish interior. “Make yourself comfortable while I attend to some urgent matters.”

He strides purposefully towards his study, pausing to glance at you over his shoulder. “We’ll discuss your role in this mess later. For now, sit tight.”

With that, he disappears behind closed doors, leaving you alone amidst the splendor of his domain. The weight of his expectations settles upon you, a constant reminder of the delicate balance between your roles as lover and pawn in his game of power.

The couch is comfy, but it does nothing to soothe your nerves at Wooyoung’s words. As you lose yourself in swirling thoughts and the view outside of the penthouse, a gunshot rings out every so often, echoing through the halls even through closed doors. Each sharp bang makes you jump, although your expression remains neutral.

Under your facade, every shot reminds you of the night you wielded the gun and shot a man dead. As much as you’d never regret keeping yourself and Wooyoung safe, you can’t help but wonder what if you had never gone so far in the first place.

Hours pass, the sound of gunfire punctuating the otherwise tense silence. You try to occupy yourself, browsing through the expensive art books and designer magazines scattered across the coffee table, but your mind keeps drifting back towards the bloodstained memories you’ve worked so hard to bury.

Just as you’re starting to feel the strain, the study door swings open, and Wooyoung emerges, his suit immaculate despite the violence that likely transpired within. He approaches you with a calculated stride, his eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and something darker.

“Well, that took care of the problem. Our little rat won’t be squealing anymore.” He reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly gentle considering the brutal nature of his actions. “But enough about that.”

You can smell the iron of blood off him, but you hold your tongue, waiting for him to continue.

Wooyoung’s gaze lingers on your face, searching for any signs of distress or hesitation. When he finds none, a hint of relief flickers in his eyes before he turns to pour himself a glass of whiskey from the decanter on the sideboard.

He takes a seat beside you, his thigh pressing against yours and sending heat through your body. Your heart pounds in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, hands fisting the fabric of your dress, waiting for him to deliver your judgement on the way you had worked against him, even for just a short while.

Instead, you hear a low chuckle, fingers brushing against your chin as he tilts your head upwards. “Look at me, doll,” he commands. When you raise your eyes to meet his piercing gaze, he continues. “Back when you were talking about your past, you said you didn’t want to betray me, and you stopped short at the why. Finish what you were saying.”

There’s an unspoken understanding in his eyes—he knows what you were going to say, the depth of your affection for him. And yet, he wants to force you to articulate it, to acknowledge the bond that has grown stronger each day.

The room seems to shrink, the weight of his expectations pressing down on your shoulders. Confessing it could either solidify your place by his side, or only bring you more suffering, depending on what he chooses.

You bite your lip, tasting the sting of blood as you look back down at your hands quivering. “I…I love you,” you finally admit, your words quiet enough you swear Wooyoung will be able to hear your heart pounding. “I stupidly fell in love with you.”

For a long moment, the only sound is the steady thrum of the city outside and the ragged beat of your heart. Then, suddenly, Wooyoung reaches out and cups your cheek, his thumb stroking your trembling lip.

“I knew,” he murmurs, his voice so low you almost don’t catch it. “I’ve known all along where you came from, your mission, and…and the change in you. I’ve seen it in your eyes for a while now. The way you look at me? It’s no secret.”

His fingers trail down to press his thumb against the junction of your neck, showcasing his power against you, and yet it is still soft, gentle, and reverent. “I have to admit, it pleases me. Having you by my side, loving me…it’s a treasure I hadn’t anticipated.” But beneath the tender words, a thread of hardness remains, a reminder of the ruthless world he rules. “Yet, as much as I enjoy keeping you close, you’ve lied to me. You’ve used me for your own gain, and you must be punished for that, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you deem as proper, I accept it,” you comply, ready for a sharp hit, or even a gunshot as well. You fight to keep your eyes on him, unable to read his expression.

A heavy silence hangs in the air, the seconds ticking by like hours. Then, unexpectedly, Wooyoung pulls you into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“You’re mine, doll,” he declares, his voice a deep rumble against your ear. “Whatever happens to you, you belong to me. And I won’t let anyone, including who you were, threaten that.” His hands roam possessively over your body, a claim of ownership, a reminder of the twisted dynamic that binds you to him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m absolving you of your sins,” he adds, his hot breath ghosting against your skin. “You’ll still face the consequences. Just perhaps not the ones you’ve feared.” He holds you tightly, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as if trying to burn away the shadows of your past. His hand drifts down to the small of your back, pressing you closer.

“You understand, my love? I’m offering you a reprieve, but you must learn to trust me completely. To obey without question, and you will be spared. I’m offering you a chance, and that is not something I give lightly.” Wooyoung leans in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “In return, I’ll ensure your safety…and pleasure.” The implication sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

His grip tightens, as if to reinforce his claims, and yet also a silent allowance for your answer. Not that you need any time to deliberate. Your breath hitches as his lips brush against your ear, sending tingles down your spine. You nod, a silent agreement, your heart racing in your chest.

“Yes, Wooyoung,” you whisper, the name feeling like a prayer on your tongue. “I understand. I’ll follow your lead, as well as any and all decisions you make.”

You press yourself further into his embrace, craving the sense of security and belonging he offers. Even if it means surrendering parts of himself, you’re willing to do whatever it takes to stay by his side. “And…I trust you,” you add sincerely, the admission slipping out before you can stop it. The words hang in the air, a declaration of faith in the man who wields such power over you.

A satisfied smile plays on Wooyoung’s lips as he hears your whispered submission. He nuzzles your hair, inhaling your scent deeply.

“That’s my good doll,” he praises, his voice a low purr of approval. “You’re back in the game. Soon, you’ll be perfecting the role of my devoted wife.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and his wands begin to wander once more, tracing the contours of your body with a deliberate slowness.

“But first, let’s celebrate our new arrangement, shall we?” Without warning, he spins you to face him, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sends a flush creeping up your neck. “Get on your knees for me, doll. Show me the respect and obedience you’ve promised me,” he commands, his voice rough with desire.

Without hesitation, you quickly comply, falling to your knees in front of where he sits, looking up at Wooyoung with wide eyes and awaiting his next instruction. Wooyoung’s eyes follow the line of your body, a predatory glint in his eyes. He leans forward, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact.

“That’s a good doll,” he repeats, his voice dripping with approval. “Now, open wide. Show me how eager you are to please your husband.”

With that, he releases the button of his trousers, allowing them to sag slightly and reveal the impressive bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. You can practically taste the musky arousal, making your mouth water.

You can’t help but to shift forward until your face pressed against his clothed cock, mouthing at his underwear until he’s groaning at your ministrations. A low growl rips its way out of Wooyoung’s throat as he frees his thick cock from its confines. It slaps against his abdomen, obscene wet sounds making you hunger even more as you watch his precum bead out of the tip.

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, his hand wrapping around the base to guide himself into your waiting mouth. “Take it all, my doll. Every inch.”

As he pushes past your lips, you feel the heat of his flesh, the firmness of his cock stretching your mouth wide. The taste of him floods your mouth—salt and a little sweetness that makes your cunt clench and drip out more wetness to soak your underwear through.

Wooyoung begins to thrust slowly, savouring each vibration you send through his length as you moan and gag around his dick. Each stroke is deliberate, using your mouth for his pleasure and his pleasure only. And that in itself brings you into a heady mindset.

Your hands squeeze your thighs as you try to ignore the increasing wetness between your legs, focusing on sucking and licking as best as you can around his thick cock. His hips rock steadily, sliding in and out of your mouth with lewd sounds echoing through the penthouse. Groans and sighs spill out of his mouth, clearly enjoying your mouth working him to his orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his fingers tangling in your hair to guide your movements. “Take every bit of my cock. You look so perfect with it stuffed in your mouth, truly my perfect wife.”

The praise sends a thrill down your spine, even as you choke around his girth. It only serves to heighten your arousal, your cunt throbbing more and more as you swallow around him. You can feel his cock twitch, but before you can react, Wooyoung’s hands tangle in your hair. He holds your head down as he comes, shooting ropes of hot come down your throat with his head thrown back.

Eagerly, you swallow it all, licking the head of his length to coax every last drop out of him. Before you get very far, Wooyoung pulls himself free, his cock slick with saliva. “Stand up,” he orders, a smirk playing on his lips. You scramble to your feet, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, and you can see his eyes roam over your body, drinking in the sight of you.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re worked up,” Wooyoung hums, reaching up to cup your breasts with his large hands, thumbs ghosting over your nipples. “Look at you, so cute. All for me, aren’t they?” His tone is teasing as he pinches the flesh.

As he continues to toy with your tits, he snakes a hand down between your thighs, pressing against your underwear. “So wet too,” he notes approvingly, his fingers pushing the fabric aside to slide into your cunt easily. “You really are my eager wife, aren’t you?”

“Always, for you,” you gasp, hands reaching out to grasp his wrists. “Your wants are my wishes, please.” Your voice lilts into a whine, Wooyoung chuckling low in his throat at your desperate plea.

“That’s right, doll,” he agrees, his fingers pumping slowly in and out of you as his palm rubs circles on your sensitive clit. “You’ll give me everything I want, whenever I want it.”

The pressure applied to your clout becomes more insistent, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Come for me, babydoll,” he demands, although he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice anymore. “God, you’re squeezing me so good with that greedy cunt of yours.”

The mix of praise and degradation sends you over the edge of pleasure. Shivers wrack through your body as you grind against his hand. “Wooyoung–” you gasp, legs trembling as you squeeze your eyes shut, moans cutting through your breaths.

As you tremble and quake through your orgasm, Wooyoung’s grip on your hips tightens, holding you still as he works his hand in you to help you ride out each wave. “That’s it, let go for me,” he hums, his voice silky smooth. “Give it all to me, doll.”

You lean forward, tears dropping out of your closed eyes and onto his thighs, Wooyoung easing his fingers from your pussy, licking your release off of the digits. “You taste even sweeter when you’re mine,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming with possessiveness. He holds the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue pressing past your lips to claim every inch as his own.

Happily, you drop your mouth open to let him swallow every whimper and moan that tries to escape you as you chase his lips. Your core still aches but also craves more of him as your arms wrap around him.

Wooyoung breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with every breath as he gazes down at you with an intense passion. “I think it’s time we consummate this marriage,” he suggests, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth as his hand trails down to squeeze your ass.

Before you can even react, he hoists you up into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to his bedroom. “We have a lot to discuss, my dear wife,” he hums, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a contrastingly gentle kiss to your cheek. “And I plan to thoroughly discuss every inch of your body.”

He pushes open the door and stalks towards the bed, his strides long and purposeful. Deftly, he drops you onto the soft bed, crawling over until he looms over you with a confident smirk.

Your eyes don’t leave him as you reach up to stroke his cheek gently, pulling him into a soft kiss. “I love you,” you can’t help but to say again, your gentle words lightening the hunger coursing through your veins.

At your whispered declaration, Wooyoung’s expression shifts, a flicker of something almost tender passing through his dark eyes as he captures your lips again in a searing kiss. His hands roam your body, mapping every dip and swell as if memorising you.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is heavy with emotion. “I know, YN. And I love you too. It might be in ways you don’t understand, but I do.” There’s sadness in his voice, an acknowledgement that his love is complex, and toxic. He leans down to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, teeth scraping at your delicate skin as he tries to take both your minds off of the seriousness. “Come on, let’s get comfortable. I want to show you exactly just how I love you.”

His hands slide up your dress, his calloused palms gliding over the expanse of your stomach as he lifts the garment over your head. You shiver as the cool air hits your body, goosebumps littering you.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the side of your breast, sending a shiver through your veins. With a fluid motion, he flips your positions, drawing you close to sit in his lap. His hands settle on your hips, guiding you down to grind against his hardening cock.

“Ride me, doll,” he commands, his eyes burning with desire. “Show me how much you want my touch.”

Carefully, you reach down and grasp his hard length, letting the head push into you slowly. A broken moan leaves your mouth as you sink down more and more.

Wooyoung grunts, his hands gripping your hips as you envelop his thick length, your cunt gripping him like a velvet vice. “Fuck, yes,” he hisses, his hands digging into your flesh as he helps guide you down further, sheathing himself fully inside you.

For a long moment, he simply savours the sensation of being buried to the hilt in your warm folds. Then, with a sudden thrust, he rocks you against him, setting a brutal pace that has you bounding on his cock with a needy cry. “There we are, doll, take it all,” he groans, his lips pulling into a fierce grin. “You were made for me, wife. This cunt is just for me, right?”

You bite your lips, trying to quieten your moans as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you drop your head into the crook of his neck, pulling him even closer.

At your movements, Wooyoung chuckles, his hips snapping upwards in a relentless rhythm. “Such a good doll, taking all of me like this,” he hums, his voice low in his throat.

One hand slides up your back to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the slender column of your neck. He latches onto the tender skin, biting and sucking marks into your flesh as he pounds into you with increasing ferocity. “You’re mine, doll,” he growls against your throat, his words punctuated by the lewd sounds of his hips meeting your ass. “Every inch of you belongs to me, and I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

“I’m yours,” you repeat dumbly, eyes rolling back in your head. “Wooyoung, please…”

Wooyoung’s grip on your hair tightens as he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear. “Please what, baby? Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you,” he prompts, his voice a seductive purr. He slows his thrusts slightly, allowing you to feel every inch of his thick cock as he grinds against you. “Or maybe you just need to come undone on my dick, screaming my name?”

His free hand trails down to tease your sensitive clit, circling the bud with maddening slowness. The stimulation is nearly too much to bear, your core coiling tighter and tighter until you sink your teeth into his neck. “Please, Wooyoung,” you whimper, unable to string together a coherent sentence. “I need– I need–”

With a wicked smile and a nip to your ear, Wooyoung pinches your clit firmly, sending waves of pleasure through your nerves. “You need what, sweetheart?” he taunts, his fingers still mercilessly tormenting your aching cunt.

He picks up the pace once more, driving into you with ruthless abandon. The room fills with the symphony of your ragged breathing, his groans, and the obscene sounds of him working his cock deeper into you.

You throw your head back as you reach the cusp of pleasure again, body tensing as your cunt squeezes in a vice around him. “Fuck– Wooyoung–” you cry out before your core snaps and you come, creaming around his cock as you whine and whimper.

Wooyoung’s control slips at the feel of your pussy clamping down on him. With a feral moan, he buries himself to the hilt and holds you down on his cock, the length of it pulsating as he fills you with enough come that it bubbles out of your conjoined bodies.

“Fuck, take it all,” he hisses, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out his climax. His fingers dig into your hips and thighs, marking you with crescent shapes as he buries his face in your hair.

As the waves of pleasure ebb, he collapses back onto the bed, dragging you down with him to nestle against his chest. His heart thunders against your ear as he strokes your hair soothingly, a rare display of tenderness from the usually dominant man.

“That’s it, doll,” Wooyoung continues to pet your hair softly, his breathing gradually evening out and his heart slowing to a lull. “Just relax now. Let me hold you, my wife.”

Despite the lingering ache between your thighs, his cock softening inside of you, you find yourself relaxing in his embrace, his warm body surrounding you. After a while, he tilts your chin up to capture your lips in a slow, languid kiss, his tongue sweeping across the seam of your mouth to taste the remnants of your passion. When he finally breaks away, his gaze is almost affectionate.

“Come on, doll, let’s get cleaned up,” he says, although there’s no real conviction behind his words.

You press your lips against his again, enjoying the soft domesticity of this. “Let’s stay like this for just a little longer, please,” you ask, voice tinged with timidness as if scared he’ll leave again.

Wooyoung’s expression turns thoughtful at your request, a small furrow appearing between his brows. For a long moment, he simply looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your emotions. Then, with a subtle nod, he enfolds you more securely in his arms, holding you close as if to shield you from the world.

“Alright, doll,” he agrees quietly. “Just a little longer. We’ve got all night, after all.”

He presses another tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if savouring the simple intimacy of the gesture. In this moment, the ruthless kingpin seems to fade away, replaced by a man who craves connection, however fleeting or unconventional. Time seems to stand still as you both bask in the afterglow, the world outside your intimate bubble fading into insignificance. It’s a fleeting reprieve from the harsh realities of their lives, but one they cling to desperately, savouring the precious few moments of tranquility before the storm inevitably returns.

-

“Doll, come here.” You can hear Wooyoung’s voice from across the apartment, his tone low and commanding. It leaves no room for disagreement, so you quickly slip out of the bedroom where you were going over the financial reports of your club. 

Wooyoung stands in the living room, arms crossed and face guarded. “It’s time for your punishment. Come with me.” You nod quickly, body tensing. It’s been weeks since you admitted your feelings, and Wooyoung had made no move to punish you for the disloyalty. Now, it seems he has finally decided on a fitting end.

Without waiting for a response, Wooyoung turns and strides out of the apartment, expecting you to follow closely behind. He leads you to a nondescript car, different from his usual automobile, the interior far more luxurious than the exterior would suggest.

He opens the passenger door for you, his expression still unreadable. “Get in,” he orders curtly, not offering any further explanation. You quickly follow suit, and Wooyoung walks around the car to get into the driver’s seat, starting the engine and starting the trip.

The cityscape blurs in the windows, an uncomfortable silence settling uncomfortably over the car. After a few tense minutes, Wooyoung finally speaks, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. “Doll, whatever comes, I want you to know this isn’t a reflection of how I feel about you. This is a necessity for you to understand I can’t let anyone cross me.” He glances at you sideways.

It takes you a moment to realise he’s waiting for an answer, and you quickly nod. “Of course, Wooyoung, I understand.” Your voice sounds quiet and foreign even to yourself, but your words are true.

Wooyoung’s jaw clenches at your obedient response, a flicker of something akin to pride crossing his features. He reaches over to squeeze your thigh reassuringly, his touch firm yet gentle.

“You’re smart, doll. That’s why I chose you,” he hums, his voice taking on a tone of affection. “Now, just sit back and relax for now. We’ll be there soon.”

As promised, you arrive at your destination in a short while—a seedy, rundown warehouse on the outskirts of town. Wooyoung parks the car and exits, motioning for you to join him. He leads you through the dark halls to a room, akin to a dungeon. The heavy wooden door creaks shut behind you both, enveloping you in an atmosphere of dark anticipation.

Once inside, he produces a dark cloth, wrapping it around your wrists and binding them in front of you. You twitch, wanting to bat his hands away, but you hold back. When he finishes, he steps back, his piercing gaze raking over your form appraisingly. “I’ll strip you,” he orders, his voice devoid of emotion. “Then I want you on your knees when I return.”

Without waiting for a response, he quickly rips your dress off of you and exits the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts. The cool air feels thick with tension, each second ticking by agonisingly slow as you hastily comply with his demands.

After what feels like hours, but is probably only ten minutes, the door swings open once more, and you register Wooyoung’s breathing before you even see him as he stands in the threshold. It takes you another moment to realise he’s got a heavy bag slung over his shoulder.

Before you can even question what’s in it, Wooyoung throws it to the ground in front of me, and the bag lets out a muffled grunt. You recoil as you realise there’s a human being in there. “Wooyoung–” you start to talk, but Wooyoung shakes his head and you snap your mouth shut.

“I don’t think dolls can speak, can they?”

As soon as you nod shallowly, Wooyoung reaches out and undoes the bag, pulling the person out roughly. It takes you a moment to register, but when you see it’s your old boss, Wooyoung’s rival, you can’t keep the sharp gasp from exiting your mouth. He’s got a black eye and a busted nose, but he’s awake, shifting uncomfortably.

“Say hello, doll,” Wooyoung hums, his voice light but dangerous. “Park here wants to apologise, right?”

He kicks his rival in the ribs, a glint in his eye that can be seen even in the darkness. You can see the figure of Beomjun scramble to his knees, a strong contrast to the terrifying leader you once knew. “I’m sorry,” he repeats what is a clear script, his voice tense and teeth gritted, “for using what wasn’t mine. Wooyoung’s property is not to be touched.”

You can hardly keep your eyes off the grovelling figure, so you don’t notice when Wooyoung approaches you until he presses a cool metal object in your hand. A gun lays in your hand, and your hands shift to hold it properly automatically. “Shoot him,” Wooyoung’s voice rings clear, his mock whisper meant to be heard by Beomjun.

“Wait, please, you said you wouldn’t–” Beomjun’s words dissolve into whimpers and sobs. You never thought you’d see such a strong leader in the black market appear so…pathetic. “I won’t bother you anymore, I’ll leave YN alone, please– let me live– I’ll give you all my assets–”

Wooyoung clicks his tongue. “Either way, I’ll get all of your offers, Park. Your incentives are nothing but dust.” He leans forward to brush his lips against your ear. “Shoot him, doll. Show me that you put all your trust in me, now. He is nothing to you.”

His hand moves to your waist, and the other one lifts your arm that’s holding the gun until it’s aimed at him. Although you hesitate just a moment, Wooyoung’s words wind around your mind like a snake, and your finger twitches on the trigger.

You don’t even register the sound of the gunshot as Beomjun’s next plea is caught in his throat and he collapses against the concrete, eyes open wide and blood pooling around his body. You can hardly think as Wooyoung presses a chaste kiss to your cheekbone, taking the gun out of your hands and shoving it in his waistband before leading you to a small sink in the corner of the room, where he wets a paper towel to clean the specks of blood that landed on you.

As he wipes gently, he leans in close, lips pressing against your temple. “Remember, doll, my patience has limits. Don’t ever test them again.” With that warning, he brings you to a different room, where it’s decorated simply with a bed and nothing else. “Come, sit on my lap,” Wooyoung commands, his voice strangely gentle.

Carefully, you follow his direction until you’re nested up against his chest. You can feel his boner through his slacks, curious as to where this is headed. Before you even have time to gasp, Wooyoung flips your skirt up and pushes aside your underwear before pressing his fingers into you.

He’s not gentle by any means, but the roughness only brings you pleasure as tears fill your eyes. You’re sure the wetness trickling down your cheeks only makes him hard, and you can feel it beneath you as well.

“Are you going to try to betray me again, wife?” Wooyoung asks, the pet name spoken without affection, although you know it’s hidden under the punishment you deserve.

You quickly shake your head, eyes wide. Killing someone still has you shaken up, but you’re in no mood to piss Wooyoung off ever again, and you want to enjoy the pleasure of his fingers. “No, Wooyoung, husband, I promise–”

Your quick response and lilt of a whine in your voice gives Wooyoung pause, his fingers slowing. “Good doll,” he croons, leaning in to give you a proper kiss, gentle and loving despite his rough treatment earlier. “You’re so pretty and perfect for me, let’s keep it that way.”

The gentle touch of his lips has you whining and twitching your hips, and you can feel the gun tucked away pressing against your thigh. The thought of it has you whining, and you must be easier to read than you think, your eyes flickering down to where it sits, because Wooyoung chuckles and reaches down to pull it out.

“Look at you, so dirty, wife,” Wooyoung preeens, pressing the barrel against your thigh and dragging it up until it’s hooked through the gifted necklace and pressing against your chin. “Begging for my cock, begging for my gun. Aren’t you a pretty picture for me? So pliable.”

You whine, nodding eagerly even as the gun knocks against your chin. “Please,” you gasp out, hips grinding against his hand even without his prompting.

Your begging only makes Wooyoung’s smile wider as he moves the gun until it’s pushing your bottom lip down, forcing your mouth open. “Did I tell you to speak, doll?” he grits out, hand stilling his movement. “Be a good doll and open your mouth for me.”

When your mouth drops open almost immediately, a delighted chuckle leaves Wooyoung’s throat at your eagerness. Without saying a word, he pushes the tip of the gun into your mouth, forcing you to taste the metallic tang of the barrel.

Your cunt leaks around Wooyoung’s fingers, your eyes glazing over as your mind drifts away and all you want to do is please. The gun doesn’t push too far past your teeth, not like Wooyoung’s cock would, and you lick and suck at it gently as you rock slowly against Wooyoung.

The amusement in Wooyoung’s eyes only increases as he reaches down to unfasten his pants, pulling his rock-hard cock out. “Come on, baby, ride me,” he commands, pushing your hips up until his cock aligns with your cunt. “Show me how much you want to be used.”

With the gun still in your mouth, you drop down, his length spearing into you until you whine around the metal. Saliva drips out of your mouth and down your throat, pooling in your collarbones and slicking up your breasts. Your eyes roll back as you start a slow pace, bouncing up and down as best as you can.

Wooyoung’s hang grabs your hip tight enough to leave bruises, pushing you down to take him even deeper. The whine you let out is cut short as he slams his hips up into you, fucking you with wild abandon.

You can hardly feel anything except searing pleasure as he thrusts into you, the gun now resting in your mouth too far gone to continue sucking on it. But then Wooyoung leans in closer, nose brushing against your ear. “The safety’s off.”

It’s a lie, a bald-faced lie. You saw him lock it before sliding it into its holster. You know that it won’t shoot, the trigger wouldn’t even budge. And yet, the idea of it makes you groan around the barrel, cunt spasming as you come around Wooyoung’s cock, squeezing it so tight your core aches.

Wooyoung gasps at the feeling, pulling the gun out of your mouth and tossing it to the side as he pulls you closer into a bruising kiss, teeth scraping at your lips. “Fuck–” he moans into your mouth “–you fucking slut. You love having a gun in your mouth and a cock up your pussy? Maybe next time I’ll shove it up your cunt while I fuck your ass, such a perfect dumb whore.”

The kisses he litters on your lips betray his harsh words, and he comes with a groan, cock twitching as his hands grope your tits roughly. You’re limp, leaning against you as he uses you for his own pleasure. He grinds into as you pant against his collarbone, drawing a few more weak drops of come out of his cock.

As you lay against his chest, Wooyoung chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “You know,” he hums, “a punishment isn’t supposed to be so pleasurable for you. But I’ll let it slide this time.”

There’s no way you can register his words properly, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he lays you down and lets you regain your mind and energy. Your eyes flutter shut as he strokes your hair softly, his gaze transfixed on you, a mix of possessiveness and adoration flickering in his eyes. “Rest now, and we’ll talk later,” Wooyoung hums more to himself than anything else. For now, he’ll enjoy the calm of this moment.

-

The ride home is silent, the only sound is the hum of the engine and your ragged breathing as you try to grasp what just happened. You don’t know what to say or do, hands grasped together as you try to wrap your head around the events of today. After shooting Beomjun’s lackey, it never occurred to you that it might have to happen again, much less that it would be Beomjun himself. But something in you burns at the power you held over the gang leader.

Upon returning to the penthouse, Wooyoung ushers you inside, his demeanour softening slightly as he removes his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He glances over at you, noticing your conflicting expressions, and he sighs through his nose.

“Doll, you okay? It was intense, but you needed to understand the world I live in, through its entirety.” He pads over to you, closing the distance, reaching out to pry your fingers apart and weave his own through yours. “It’s late…let’s get some rest. I want to hold you.”

He’s trying to divert the topic, and you grasp at it, following him like a sheep led to slaughter, letting him gently change you into pyjamas. He even brushes your teeth, treating you like you’re fragile and may break at any moment. When he slides into bed, he pulls you alongside, wrapping his arms around you.

As you settle into the warmth of his embrace, you let out a sigh and your body finally relaxes and sinks into the mattress. Despite the tumultuous relationship he provides you with, his presence still gives you a sense of safety and security.

“Wooyoung…I love you,” you breathe out, turning to press your face into his neck.

He stiffens slightly at your words, his hold on you tightening almost imperceptibly. For a long moment, he remains silent, processing your words. He’ll never be truly used to hearing you say it out loud, his line of work stunting his emotions. But, it still gives him warmth.

In low tones, he responds, “You’d better, doll. You’re mine, body and soul.” Despite his gruff words, there’s a hint of vulnerability, a glimpse of the man beneath the hardened kingpin. He strokes your hair soothingly, his other hand tracing gentle patterns on your hip. “Sleep now, doll. We’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

Despite the complexity of your relationship, you drift off easily, feeling a sense of belonging. For better or for worse, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. And one day, you’ll have him grovelling under you.

[anendtopursuit]

ok. so. viktor is my favourite character in arcane. i am also physically disabled and hate the Magical Miracle Eugenics Disability Cure trope with a fiery passion. naturally i have a lot of opinions about where his character is going, but for now, here's a relatively simple one:

internalised ableism has always been part of viktor's character. he describes himself as "a poor cripple from the undercity" (yes, quoting how other people speak about him, but still); he shies away from the spotlight even when jayce encourages him; as a child, he directly acknowledges his disability as the reason other children don't associate with him.

i watched a video essay recently ("how arcane writes men" by schnee) that identified viktor's tendency to just suck it up and push through his problems rather than dwelling on them as a stereotypically masculine trait, which he is written to both subvert and lean into. whilst i agree with that to some extent, i think for viktor specifically it's more of an insight into a very common mindset for disabled people to have; a lot of us do not want to be pitied, and understand that acknowledging our hardships will often unfortunately lead to being treated as attention seeking. he doesn't dwell on things because he can't, unless he wants to be looked down on more than he already is; he's already had to fight to even be acknowledged as more than somebody's assistant, or respected as a zaunite living and working in piltover. i can't imagine he's keen to show any further "weakness"; he only ever cries when he's alone. it makes sense that he'd want to save himself rather than relying on anybody else.

the dangerous thought process of "fixing" people with the hexcore begins with that desire to save himself. at first he's just trying to stop his illness from killing him, but then he progresses to carving runes into his leg, seemingly in the interest of fixing his limp - which works, albeit temporarily. he seems aware enough of the implications of what he's doing to be somewhat ashamed of it (or, at the very least, enough to hide it from jayce). i've seen a lot of (mostly able bodied) people interpret the scene of him running down the pier as victorious, but it always felt bittersweet and scary to me; the dark, painful fantasy of "fixing" the thing the world has always looked down on you for, and the unsettling knowledge that you were never supposed to exist that way. a man experiencing a moment of joy only when he has detached himself from a core aspect of his being; self hatred disguised as progress. he only seems to register the horror of what he's doing when it kills sky.

it's not a leap to say that, with the hexcore dulling his emotions and blurring the lines of his ethical code, he would turn this externally. self loathing so insidious that he mistakes it for kindness and mercy and points the blade of it at the people he swore he'd help. before merging with the hexcore, he was desperate to destroy it and rid himself of its influence, hindered only by his physical inability to do so; under its control, he's seemingly lost all those inhibitions, wiped clean of his understanding of its danger. no longer "clouded by emotion", no longer human enough to know better, no longer suspicious of the arcane.

what viktor becomes in season 2 is, i believe, a hellish mix of his own internalised ableism and the hexcore's desperation to spread and survive. his genuine desire to help people has been warped into stripping people of their individualism, forcing them into some predetermined ideal in the name of healing (very "the empty child" from doctor who). it's his own character flaws mixed with the inhuman apathy of the hexcore. the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and also dressed up so nicely that you don't even realise you're headed downwards.

this is not what viktor stood for, but rather a perversion of his own insecurities, with a fresh coat of hexcore paint to stop him (or his followers) from scrutinising it too closely. they took the guy who dedicated his life to bettering humanity, and warped him into something doomed to destroy it.

(or something like that. idk. i haven't slept.)

[leavemebetosleep]

do you have any good fluttercord fic recs?

OH BOY DO I. In no particular order (except of when I thought of them):

1: Non-Entity by Captain Wuzz: An AU in which, instead of being turned to stone, Discord was shot in the head with a magic arrow that takes away his sentience and magic for a 1,000 years. Fluttershy mistakes him for a wounded animal and brings him home. I loved it so much.

2: Chaotic Neutral by C-Puff: The magic is starting to fade from Equestria, and the Main 6 and Discord go on an adventure to find out why, and reverse it. A bit of AU, in the sense it was written before the show was done, so it diverts in some places because of that. Super sweet, and I love the character development here.

3: Time is Taller than Space is Wide by Dott. Can also be read on Ao3 if you prefer. Soulmate AU (?) fic with a Groundhog Day style twist. I rarely see fics play with the idea of what if Fluttershy and Discord's friendship had started when they first met, so this is fun.

4 & 5: Blank and it's sequel Reconnection by @geekcat. Can also be read on fanfic.net. AU in which, before Discord can choose friendship over ruling Equestria, Twilight remembers a "reformation" spell. He is stripped of his free will, and Fluttershy does her best to bring him back. If you don't like the idea of Twilight being a villain, you might not like this one, but I think her villain arc in this is done in a perfect way for her character. It's super heart wrenching in many places, but in a good way.

6: Our Fair Lady of the Chaos Lord, also by GeekCat Can also be read on fanfic.net. Fairy tale inspired AU in which Fluttershy is a princess who's father is pressuring her to marry noble knight Sir Big Mac. Wanting to be sure he's a good person, she makes a deal with the Chaos Lord, letting herself be "kidnapped" so she can test his character. You can guess who she falls for instead. Honestly I've enjoyed all of GeekCat's fics, so they're getting an extra mention. Check out the rest of their fluttercord fics if you like any of these.

7: The Draconequus with the Dragon Tattoo by A M Shark This is a major case of, strange premise, kick ass results. Basically an AU based off Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson, with Discord as Lisbeth, and Fluttershy as an amalgamation of Mikael and several other characters, but focusing more on the murder mystery aspect of that book, and less on the...everything else. If you're familiar with GwtDT, don't worry, there's no rape scenes. Again, it's more about the murder mystery part. If you're not familiar with GwtDT, then don't worry again, because you don't need to know the original to enjoy it. It's just Discord and Fluttershy playing detective and solving a murder together. It has two sequels, but I haven't read them yet, and it didn't feel right to rec something I haven't read.

8: The Corpse Bride by Bad Horse. Dark fic. No relation to the Burton movie. Fluttershy dies in a tragic accident, and Discord brings her back from the dead as his zombie wife. Her friends (sans Pinkie) are horrified. Has a fantastic twist ending. If you like some of the darker stuff, def worth a read.

Bonus: Comic rec: The Last Adventure by Eveeka. Taking place after the final defeat of Tirek, Cozy, and Chrysalis, Discord gets into a depressive funk after shouldering the hatred from Ponyville citizens for his latest actions, but also because his friends seem to never be available anymore. He starts to think maybe Equestria would be better off without him, as he can't seem to exist with out making everyone miserable, and decides to hide away in the Everfree forest. Fluttershy, worried when he doesn't show up for tea, asks her friends for help, only to discover there's a monster running lose there he and the rest of Equestria might be in danger from. This fic has two endings, so keep reading even when it seems like it's over. You've got one more ending left. This one nearly made me cry.

[orlesianhennin]

why do you hate the way the crows are written?

I generally have an issue with the fact that every faction seems to be on the Good side of the alignment chart and have had anything that could paint them in a negative or even nuanced light completely stripped down and smoothed away, but I think that the Crows are a particularly egregious example. Their general depiction and vibe is as plucky freedom fighters; the fact that they are assassins is kind of just played for laughs. The Crows are supposed to be an extremely corrupt organization that rules Antiva behind the scenes through fear and murder and treats its own members as disposable tools rather than people through a variety of forms of abuse and dehumanization. They literally keep a prison in which they torture people for fun. We don't see any of that in VG. They are depicted as an extended mafia family that we are supposed to root for... and the individual Crows have a degree of autonomy that was never suggested before.

Beyond that... the fact that the people of Antiva continue to trust in the threat of the Crows to protect them from invasion is laughable given how incompetent they are shown to be in Treviso. Realistically, the Crows shouldn't keep trying to fight the Antaam. When the fear of their legend fails to deter Antiva's enemies and the Antaam invade Antiva regardless, the Crows should hide or flee and await help from Antiva's allies. They should be concerned with their own survival and only try to regain their reputation when Antiva has returned to the status quo. Risking their assassins to form the entirety of the country's resistance efforts - without deals with the merchant lords and their personal armies, or even militias formed by the common people - is a surefire way to have their organization destroyed. Instead, they are shown to resist not only to get Antiva back to a profitable state for them, but also because they want to help the common people? They're altruistic and patriotic, when their own organization is in disarray and their leader has been killed? Idk... it just seems a bit odd to me.

With all of that being said, I don't hate the idea of the Crows being present as an option for a faction. I just wish that they were presented in a way that aligns with the previous information we had about them. I may change my opinion on subsequent playthroughs - maybe some of my criticisms are addressed in Codexes I haven't read carefully enough, as so many pieces of lore are - but what I've seen of the Crows made me extremely confused about what is going on in Treviso.

I can extend this criticism to all of the factions, honestly. I think they're all too Good. But I just think the Crows (and the Wardens tbh) are the worst when it comes to retconning or hand waving certain parts of their lore.

[miniimapp]

Robaire - Underneath the Tree

Gen ;; Fluff - Drabble/Short Story

Warnings ;; None

Proofread + Edited ;; Briefly run through grammarly because it's Christmas and I wanted to treat you all <3

Auth. Note ;; WELCOME TO DAY 2 OF THE CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN, ALSO KNOWN AS DAY 21 OF ADVENT !!

can you tell that this one had to be written real quick because i've been at work all day ?? either way, enjoy <3

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Wrapping gifts is an art form. There's a delicacy, a grace, to the way you fold the paper. A practised confidence that comes from years of refining your wrapping skills. And while you don't expect everyone to have the same level of skill you’ve managed to cultivate, you had liked to imagine that everyone had at least the basics down: fold, tape, no present peeking through.

Until you met Robaire, that is.

Despite his outstanding prowess in seemingly every other field, your partner has never quite managed to pin down the art of present wrapping, and it somehow leads you to the same absurd scene every year: Robaire knelt on the floor, wrapped up to his elbows in tape and trying desperately to fling it off, as he pulls at the paper, creasing it in some places and irreparably tearing it in others.

And that’s what you stumble upon today as you walk through the door, welcomed in by a cacophony of colourful curses that could make a sailor blush.

You last maybe a second before the first peel of laughter is ripped from you as Robaire flings one of his arms around, growing evermore frustrated as he tries to loosen the clingy tape. Fond amusement warms your chest as you watch him wrestle with a particularly difficult strip of tape; you’re beyond trying to figure out how he gets himself into these messes, and instead focus on getting him out.

Eventually, you’ll have to step in before he gets around to begging invisible forces to strike him down, and as you hear him begin code-switching into French curses you decide now is the time.

Pushing off from the doorway, you saunter into the room with laughter already bubbling up again in the back of your throat. “I think it might be time for an intervention, don’t you?”

Robaire turns to you, expression indignant. “Oh, do you think so?” he asks dryly, his voice drenched in sarcasm and eyes rolling, “And what exactly does this ‘intervention’ entail, mon amour?”

“How about teaching how to wrap presents properly?” you offer as you saunter closer

“Or maybe I could just stuff the presents in gift bags for the rest of forever, maybe get some tissue paper and make it look all pretty to hide the fact that I’m a failure,” Robaire grumbles, his tone petulant.

“Lose the attitude, babe,” you chastise softly, “And sit tight because I’m about to turn you into a wrapping extraordinaire.”

You kneel next to Robaire, setting out the wrapping paper and placing the paper on top of it. “Alright, you ready?” you ask, turning to face him.

The moment you receive a nod from Robaire, you gently take his hands in yours, fingers ghosting over his as you demonstrate the proper way to wrap the presents. “It’s all about the way you fold the paper; if you’ve got that down, you can wrap anything.”

“And the tape, by the way, is your friend here, not your enemy. You just gotta get on its good side,” you add, “Go slowly and carefully, that way you can fix any mistakes while they’re still manageable.”

As you continue wrapping together, Robaire’s frustration slowly melts away into curiosity and then awe as following your instructions quickly develops into understanding. You pull your hands away after a while, watching over him as he continues. Robaire’s still a bit clumsy, his finger fumbling over the folds and awkwardly placing the tape, but he’s trying and he’s succeeding. You can’t help but feel proud.

“See, you’re not a failure, you just needed a bit of instruction, and who doesn’t every now and then?” you say, voice filled with encouragement. “You’re getting the hang of it so quickly now.”

With a small but proud smile, Robaire nods. “Thanks.” He pauses slightly, dropping his head sheepishly, “I guess might have been making it more complicated than it needed to be.”

You playfully raise an eyebrow at him, “Oh, you think so?” 

Robaire rolls his eyes in return, “Yeah, yeah, okay, I’m dramatic, sue me.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” you defend, raising your hands in surrender. “But, we all have our weaknesses, right? It’s what makes us human, you know.” you continue, your tone altering to become more reassuring and sincere.

As you continue to wrap gifts together, the room begins to fill with laughter, gentle corrections, and the quiet rustle of wrapping paper. A shared affection that drowns out the previous frustration of the evening, setting you up for a peaceful and loving Christmas.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Unrivaled Beauty.

O’ Beautiful Queen, your loveliness is eternal and unchallenged.

Steal center stage, and the hearts of those who gaze upon you.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

War is as much of an art as it is a brazen display of brutality.

For Vil, every performance he gives is war. His weapons: skill, grace, beauty. All of it meant to charm the audience. No substitutions, it no stunt doubles.

Today is no different.

He kneels in the snow atop a corpse. Not a real dead man, but a dummy with an eerie amount of detail. It had been prepared by experts in the prop department, made to resemble his character's sworn enemy in the film.

Crimson blooms upon white robes marked with ancient runes. The collar and neckline are daring, plunging to reveal a generous amount of the bare skin of the chest to the elements. The hair, a tangled mess of glossy raven waves, sticking from the moisture to cold skin. The skin, pale blue with frost, the eyes cloudy orbs.

The mouth, stained red with the blood of countless innocents, no longer moves.

In this scene, the she-devil Snow White is dead, and he, heir to the Witch Queen, has slain her.

Without hesitation, he plunges his bare hand into the dummy’s chest, fishing out a model heart. It is covered in a mixture of corn syrup, food coloring, cocoa powder, and starch to simulate bodily fluids. The thickened liquid dribbles down his own pale hands, staining them.

Lifting his trophy into the air, a joyous, defiant sparkle in his eyes. A throaty cry erupts from him.

“With this, the Eternal Snow will be no more, and peace shall return to my realm!!”

Vil’s explosive laughter fills the mountain. The snow shakes, the land itself shudders in his presence.

He has won.

Finally, finally, finally.

A gruff man’s voice reaches him.

“CUT!!”

In an instant, the scene falls apart and reality sets in.

Cameramen tend to their equipment, prop managers and stylists exchange whispers. Special effects mages tamp down their snow spells. The illusion is stripped away, revealing a balmy day set against a backdrop of mountains.

Staff in scurry in, offering Vil towelettes and lotion to clean and moisturize his hands. He accepts them, then waves the staff off, one ferrying the fake heart.

“Bravo, Vil-kun, bravo!!” the director gushes. “I knew it was the right call to cast you as the hero for this film. There wasn’t a flaw in your acting, m’boy!!”

“Thank you, sir.” Vil bows to the older man, keeping his reply short and simple. “It is an honor to be a part of your masterfully written story."

It is the tale of a beautiful demon locked away in a glass coffin, freed from slumber and set upon the world to shroud it in never-ending winter… The tale of a selfless noble and her huntsmen that stands in opposition to her and her seven sniveling imp minions. A tale of two fates intertwining—the noble whose bloodline sealed the demon away, and the demon who vowed revenge on descendent of the Witch Queen.

Vil's eyes cannot stop themselves from sliding over to his co-star, who waits in the wings. His lifelong rival, Neige LeBlanche.

He is dressed similarly to the dummy that had been swapped in for his corpse. Red ruins his pristine white gown, and his hair is wild—but off-camera, Neige lacks the madness of the villain he plays. Neige smiles sweetly at the staff, giggles like an innocent schoolboy.

Vil fails to look away before Neige meets his eyes. He waves shyly, and, out of courtesy, Vil returns it.

“You've all been working very hard to bring my vision to life," the director happily booms. "Let's take a 30-minute break. Hydrate, grab some food, whatever. Actors, hair and makeup retouches before stepping back on set!"

There is a collective murmur of approval, feet shuffling for the refreshments table. A staff member offers Vil a spot in the donut line, but he politely declines.

"No thank you, I've prepared granola and a light fruit yogurt ahead of time. If you'll excuse me."

He peels away and heads for his trailer. Once Vil is shut away—a well-trained peacock stepping into his gilded cage—he produces his phone and reviews his jam-packed schedule: the film shoot, an interview with a popular variety show, modeling for a magazine cover, practicing for a stage play…

He, cast in the spotlight of hero in every single one.

You are the fairest of them all, Mira would robotically recite. All the social media websites and news outlets were talking nonstop about him, and he knows it.

It's the Age of Vil, his manager would joke. Isn't this great? You're demonstrating your range. This will definitely net you bigger and bigger opportunities in the future!

They’re finally recognizing you for your cuteness and goodness, his father would tell him. That’s my son! I knew everyone would come around eventually.

On any other day, he might have scoffed or dismissed their comments. Today, he simply smirks, silently pocketing his phone.

Vil passes a large vanity on his way to the mini-fridge. A glimpse of his reflection reveals the elaborate jewel-toned ensemble he is fitted for, the makeup that highlights the highest points of his face. Shining, commanding attention—just as any protagonist would.

He stands straighter, holds his chest higher. Proudly flaunting his feathers, his numerous accomplishments.

I've worked myself to the bone to reach this point. I've earned every little bit of this.

Retrieving his snacks, Vil makes to join the crew on their break. Even if Neige will be present as well, he grimaces.

A shadow invades his periphery.

Vil pauses at the doorway and looks back.

There, sitting on his vanity, was a bushel of roses the color of midnight. A black envelope embellished with gold accents is tucked among the petals.

His brows knit together. How odd--he is certain he hadn't seen that a second ago, nor had he heard anyone entering to drop it off while he was briefly at the fridge. How could he have missed such an obvious gift?

"Perhaps it's from the director or producer," he muses, plucking the envelope free and opening it.

Inside, there is, as suspected, a letter.

Same black paper, same gold embellishments.

To Schoenheit,

Please accept this humble offering from myself. It was a joy to watch you perform to your heart's content.

I was very moved by the experience. It is not often that I get to observe Man in all of its peaks and crests in such a short span of time.

I will continue to watch over you and support your dreams from the sidelines.

Sincerely,

M. D.

Initials in the place of a name? Vil turns the paper over, expecting more on the other side. It's unlike his fans to leave out their full identity. (Half of the time, they include a list of their social media handles and beg for a follow back.)

But alas, the back is blank and yields no answers.

He frowns, facing the words scrawled on the front of the square again. The cogs in his head turn, arriving at a single logical conclusion.

I only know of one possible M.D., but... Is he truly the type to send notes of this nature?

Vil toys with the idea in his head, just as he toys with the letter between his fingers. Ego rises and colors his lenses.

"Fufufu, it seems that even great mages such as he are not immune to my beauty and talent." Vil chuckles, exiting the trailer. His adoring fans await.

He's right about everything, and he doesn't realize how wrong he wants to be.

[pluralthey]

is there a good place to start if we want to learn about idletry? im very interested in the story and all the bits and pieces revealed so far but i dont know if youve like, stated the basics both about the characters-in-story and how you’re releasing the comic

hi there. unfortunately, idletry became a passion project very abruptly and many details were added very quickly without regard for how long the project would take. once i did realize how large the project was, i decided that i would not even kid myself on the idea of holding in spoilers for the next 5 years, and those two factors combined make the information available very chaotic and slapdash -- somewhat intentionally.

i don't even have the comics tagged separately for easier access among the idletry content -- although, i could go back and give them a separate tag.

i can summarize the story and say that it's about a funny little talking honey badger/tasmanian devil named jessie gaylord who has for the last 10 years of her life been on heavy psychiatric medication in an attempt to mitigate a pervasive delusion that the world is a fictional story. she also has a notorious aggressive streak. these medications work primarily by leaving her so tired that she sleeps most of the time.

the story begins when her medical team has run out of typical medications to try, and they must order an older, more aggressive type of drug which is not commonly used anymore, and has a lengthier process to manufacturing and approving the drug. during this time, she is not on any medication, and she becomes more urgently fixated on convincing people that the delusion is true.

she ends up attempting to contact the writer, who is referred to as God, and she receives a response. she immediately attempts to write the story herself, and she's granted the ability to do anything within the story so long as she can write it out. (the intricacies and limitations of this power have been elaborated upon in a bunch of fragmentary posts, so i won't try to condense it here)

at the end of the first act, she kills the first writer and becomes the new God of her world. the rest of the story is about what she does after acquiring omnipotence, and it heavily features a character named fate -- or shiloh, as jessie calls her -- with whom she enters an intimate relationship.

she has a happy loving family composed of a father named adam, a mother named evelyn, and an older sister named emily. there is a later minor subplot about a cult following who worships her after she becomes God, and this cult is initially organized by an ant called samanthuel -- or samwich, as jessie calls them. these are usually the other characters i mention and i am too lazy to link them right now

the comic itself is currently being written. the script stands at around 51,000 words at the time of writing this as i work on the second act. after it's written, i will let it simmer for a few months and then write a second draft to start to relieve the story of its bloat. depending on its length at that point, i will either need to write a third draft, or i will start drawing the comic.

chances are, during the second draft, i will start to thumbnail or sketch scenes which receive little to no editing, as i know they will likely remain relatively unchanged even through multiple drafts.

the sketch strips are to tide me and an eager audience over in the meantime, but they've sort of dried up as i focus all of my attention on finishing the first draft and taking care of a puppy that was kind of just forced onto me.

i've made a couple of full-length comics before and they have taken years. it is, unfortunately, just the nature of the process. for idletry, i plan to self-publish the comic. i've never published something in print before, so that is the most daunting part for me.

the plan at the moment is to crowdfund this, but, to be frank with you, i no longer pay rent, and i care very much about having this comic as a printed book. i have no issue with paying the cost of printing out of my own pocket by the time it's done and am even anticipating that outcome ahead of time, despite having a pretty reliable audience by now.

i'm on the fence about releasing a digital book version, as i very much want to retain digital color versions of the pages that are more vibrant, but due to the explicit adult content of the story, i don't want it to be free-access.

tl;dr: it's about a lesbian incel with anger issues who's given omnipotence.

i'm still working on the story because i want it to be good.

i'm planning on printing it as a physical comic book once it's done.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

sharing my blurb for SLUT ME OUT 3 here (although i recommend reading all of them, everyone across the spectrum of haters and champions brought their A-game for this, as is only right and proper), both because this was the most fun i had blurbing all year and because i need to share the greatness of SLUT ME OUT 3, the most fun two and a half minutes in music i've heard this year, with as many people as humanly possible; do yourself a favor and click play, but, like, maybe not in public (this song is disgusting and i am obsessed)

Nothing about such an aggressively single-minded ode to fucking as many bitches as physically possible should work, and yet I listen to “Slut Me Out 3” and am filled only with radiant joy. The song is is so hyperbolic, so extreme, so wildly filthy and yet weirdly unhorny that it’s impossible to take at face value as an expression of actual human behavior or desire; it reminds me less of other songs about fucking and more of that sketch where Vanessa Bayer can’t nail the tone on a cutely self-deprecating Instagram caption. Every single detail is miraculously deranged: the most genuinely disgusting scatological image I’ve encountered this year or possibly this decade, all the more jarring because it comes right on the heels of an incongruously sweet bit of mama’s boy pride; the concept of an endorsement with Plan B, as if the manufacturers of emergency contraception are a cereal brand signing a deal with the gold medalist of the Sex Olympics; the fact that she wants him to have her baby; “marinated pussy.” Take the proclamation “fuck her til my dick bleedin’”: for a half second it sounds normal, just a guy bragging about his stamina in the sack, and then your brain processes the actual line and you think, wait, what? Is that… good? Is it supposed to be hot? Is it even possible? Should he be seeking medical attention? Lines like that break reality, rendering the universe of the song cartoonish and bizarre. NLE comes across as some kind of pornographic comic book mutant, a superhero whose gift, burden, purpose, and promise is to fuck every woman alive. His dick is not just huge, it’s inconveniently large; his touch is so hot it can literally be fatal. When he excuses himself after finishing the job with two freak hoes to depart for an orgy at “pussy villa” (a pussy villa? the pussy villa? is Pussy Villa a proper noun?), his attitude is that of Batman, depositing the Scarecrow at the precinct before turning right back around to resume his unceasing rooftop watch. His hunger for justice (sex) is as insatiable as his determination is relentless; wherever there is pussy to be fucked, he’ll be there, Tom Joad as written by Philip Roth. The whole ridiculous scenario floats easily by on an ebullient beat, busy but never crowded, anchored by NLE’s motor-mouthed nonchalance. Carey Washington’s playfully chipper refrain functions similarly to the close-ups of women laughing in ecstasy during the stripping scenes in Magic Mike XXL, reassuring the audience that however it might look from the outside, everyone involved wants to be here and is having a grand old time. After the music cuts out, she says “Oh my God,” laughing and incredulous. You can almost see her rolling her eyes, giving him an affectionate shove, turning to us as the house lights come up, smiling and shaking her head as if to say, can you believe what we just did? [10]

[dungeonmeshi-confessions]

hehe I think its my ask youre excited about and now Im excited too. 💜

I like what you had to say so far, and I agree with you!!! Like I said, I understand completely that depending on a person's relationship with their disability, they may feel completely differently!!!

I think part of it for me is that. kabru is also disabled, his is just invisible- his ptsd. and this causes him to kind of do some self abandonment, hes not good at eating, he has insomnia, he struggles with several things mithrun does too.

I like to see mithrun pick up on this and do what he can to help with that. not bc he has to in order to deserve kabru, but bc he wants to see kabru well. like mithrun noticing that kabru will ask if he's eaten but barely feed himself and being 🤨 about it. or how kabru will help him get to sleep on time just to then stay up late with work. so mithrun intervenes and stubbornly forces kabru to take care of himself sometimes.

I like to see variance in how much help mithrun needs. I think as he improves, people may accidentally forget how reliant he is. He may end up having a rough time from it, causing him to need even more help again for a while. I think he will definitely hit rough patches in his recovery, where supports that worked before suddenly dont help him much, or he feels really discouraged and hopeless again. I really like fics where his recovery isnt linear and he has significant struggles or even fully falls back into his catatonic state.

and I like to see kabru care for him. I esp like it when its part of a routine together, like meals and sleep. I do also like mithrun being helped with care tasks, but its really about the tone its written in.

I dont really like when kabru is very officially in charge of mithruns care, more as a nurse than a friend, and then a bathing scene turns into porn. that makes me uncomfortable.

but if kabru is his very close friend or his lover, bathing him or bathing together feels like an act of intimacy and closeness instead.

but also, its this- I like mithrun's care to be someone elses job bc it means every ounce of care kabru gives to him is bc he wants to, bc he cares about him, and not bc he has an external commitment. I think kabru is very willing to give mithrun what he can, even as busy as he is. I just cant see it being his job on top of the 10 jobs in one trench coat being the kings advisor is.

I think if they are together and/or live together, kabru does much more than if they arent.

I think it is important that mithrun is loved and worthy of love even when he is at his worst and needs lots of help. he deserves to have people be patient and sweet with him. and Kabru is such an acts of service guy, he really is a great person to help mithrun with that. to me it really just comes down to how it is written and presented.

does it feel genuinely intimate and loving, or does it feel weird and fetishy? and also is mithrun having trouble in a way that makes sense for his disability, or is he being reduced to being generally disabled? Is this moment an empowering one of being worthy of love at your lowest, or is he being infantilized and stripped of autonomy?

so maybe its more accurate to say "I enjoy some of the caretaking elements commonly portayed with kabumisu, BUT-"

(I'll leave you alone about this topic now until you are able to properly post these asks lmao. remain strong. I will try to keep thinking up fun and positive asks for you for the future 💜)

replying to this ask instead of queueing it as it's a direct response to my post—

I actually completely agree with every point you made!! I don't read fanfic often and I've never read kbms before, but I do totally understand and agree with you here lol. I think I actually like the idea of Mithrun having multiple caretakers, and I'm not big on any of it feeling clinical because... they're friends and lovers and family!! Whoever I see taking care of him has some sort of close relation to him of some sort, so the idea of it being clinical does ick me (especially because the idea of having a caretaker I don't know very well and am not already close with makes me personally gery uncomfortable and unsafe). I think if I read a kbms fic, I'd want them to sort of care for each other in equal amounts (whether that care is primarily physical or primarily emotional).

Related, I really like the idea of Mithrun and Obrin (Mithrun's brother, if you didn't knkw his name) gaining a relationship where they can have equal respect for the first time, and maybe relate to each other for the first time. I think this would offer them both alot of closure.

[acaaciia]

your writing is actually incredibly like SO good my gawwwd i need Gekko smut. Like so bad

Strip Poker

____

relationship: Gekko x Reader || Mateo x Reader

listed tags: smut!, dom!reader, oral!, reader insert, gn reader

trigger warnnings: 18+, smut! Minors dni, head giving, spitting

synopsis: A game of poker takes a turn when you decide to raise the stakes.

Inspired by Baby Tate’s song - Slut Him Out

author note: First request! I'm very honored lol. But, I've never written smut! before that wasn't a gag for franticfanfic, so I hope this is okay.^^

“Royal flush!” You announced. 

You displayed your hand of cards to the man in front of you, smirking as you watched him toss his cards to the carpet. “Time to drop em’.” you said, signaling to the last thing that kept Gekko from sitting in his underwear.  

“Aww man.” He exclaimed, “How do you keep winning?” 

You collected the cards laying on the ground, watching as the green haired man slowly got up from the corner of your eyes. “Beginner's luck.” You teased, shuffling up the deck of cards in your hand. 

Gekko grumbled, but said nothing as he turned his back to you. You could hear the sound of his buckle coming undone and him unzipping his pants. You couldn’t help yourself from stealing glances as he slid his pant’s down his toned legs, revealing the fabric of his underwear

Gekko turned around slowly, his anxiety peeking as he turned to face you. His face was flushed as one of his hands attempted to cover the front of his crotch, hiding away his bulge.You waved around another set of cards to the man, with an ‘innocent’ smile gracing your features.   

“How about another round?” You proposed. 

The man who was now left in nothing but his underwear, furrowed his eyebrows at the cards in your hands. His dignity was already low due to the amount of games he had managed to lose. He wasn’t sure he could take another round, where he’d end up having to find a way back to his own hotel room in his birthday suit without getting caught. 

“Come on [name], I’m down to mis pinches chonies.” He pleaded, grabbing a pillow from the couch to give him some form of decency, “You’ve still got everything, even your socks.” He pointed out. 

You merely shrugged your shoulders at the man. It was true, you had yet to lose a single piece of clothing. To be fair you hadn’t been completely honest when you had told Gekko that you had never played a game of poker in your life. You had, but you enjoyed the idea of him teaching you. Even so, to win this type of game required luck and you hadn’t expected to win every single round. 

It wasn’t your fault that he had suggested the two of you play a couple of rounds of strip poker while hanging out in your suite. You would be lying if you said the idea had unnerved you, no, if anything the idea of it sparked a flame within you. You weren’t dumb, you’d seen the way Gekko looked after training, the way his sweat dripped down his body to the point that he would get fed up with the feeling of his tank sticking to his body like a second layer of skin. Forcing him to pull the piece of clothing over his head and reveal his toned body. You had seen the same scene so many times by now, you were pretty sure your mind could play it on loop, down to the playful grin he always managed to flash at you when he noticed you eying him like your next meal. 

But this was different, more intimate. You would’ve been a fool to pass up an opportunity like this. You wouldn’t allow a shot like this to slip out of your fingers, not if you could help it. 

You stood from your spot on the floor, tossing the cards to the side. Your hands were quick to fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you pulled it over your head, leaving the man flustered as you started to strip in front of him. 

 “What if we raise the stakes then?” 

________________

“Miereda” Gekko moaned out, his breath caught in his throat. 

His body tensed and pleasure flooded his system as you spit saliva over the top of his dick, your tongue swiped it around forming an even coat before you took the tip into your mouth. Your mouth worked on the tip, licking around each crevice before going down lower to take in more. 

As part of your agreement you made sure not to break eye contact as you forced his cock further down your throat. Your eyes were steady watching every little reaction that presented itself on his face. The way his eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to keep his head down and eyes open. The way he bit his lip in a futile attempt to hide away any noises. This was better than anything you had ever seen. 

You weren’t the only one who thought they had the best view. No, if Gekko could read your mind right now, he would argue with you about that immediately. Never in the entirety of the time that he had met you, did he ever think that he would be living out the dreams he only ever played in his head when it was just him and his hand alone. Your head between his thighs, man it was a sight to see. Your gaze was intense but jesus, the way your plump lips slid around the length of his dick? 

Fuck. 

He was already in his own world as his pupils tried to focus on those beautiful eyes of yours, lost in the pleasure you gave him. But when you lowered your mouth even further on his cock to the point where he could feel the inside of your mouth convulse and tighten in protest, as you gagged around him.  He swore he felt his body shoot out into orbit. 

He was a goner, his eyes instinctively shutting as he felt the pressure in his abdomen building up like a dam that’s been waiting to break down. You were quick to slap the side of his thigh, reminding Gekko of his agreement as he forced his eyes to open and meet your own. 

He would have to thank you for that later. No matter how hot his face felt with the embarrassment of being put on display for you while he came, nothing was better than watching the way his semen dribbled down the sides of your mouth

You took your time pulling your mouth off of his dick. Your gaze never wavered, despite the tears that stayed in the corner of your eyes, as you finally pulled away. You were quick to open your mouth, showing off the mixture of saliva and semen that pooled in your mouth like it was some kind of trophy. 

 He knew he couldn’t expect you to swallow it. Honestly, he fully expected you to go out to the bathroom and flush it away. He wasn’t dumb, he knew there was no way it was in any way appetizing for you. 

Though he can’t say that he had anticipated what was to come next.

You gripped his thighs as you pulled yourself up from your spot on the floor to stand between his legs. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders while your other hand grabbed his chin, tilting his head back. The smile you gave him was devious, he knew you were plotting something, but with how beautiful you looked in the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. You were just so alluring. 

Your thumb played with the bottom of his lip gently, that is until you forced it in his mouth to pull his jaw down. With his mouth open and on display for you, you spat into his mouth, returning all liquids that were in your mouth back to their original owner. 

His eyes widened as he felt the thick, salty, semen fill his mouth. Before he could protest your actions, you closed his mouth shut and wagged a finger in front of his face with disapproval. 

“Now, now, let’s not forget who lost the last game.” you teased, sitting yourself on his lap, “Plus I’d hate to just leave things here,” You hands lowered, circling the tip of his cock gently, sending a shiver down his spine.

Gekko rolled his eyes at your comment, he had previously considered that it would be a win no matter who won that game. But he would be a liar if he didn’t think that what you were putting him through wasn’t hot. He would swallow what little pride he had left along with his cum.. if it meant he could keep a good thing going. 

“Que maldita eres” he said, opening his mouth for your inspection.

[daily-rayless]

25 Years of Rosa

I've been doing this character appreciation series for a while now, and it's about time we got to a very special character – the first character from the first JRPG I ever played that I first really fangirled over – the first character that was my Number One Favorite Video Game Character – Rosa Farrell from Final Fantasy 4.

June 1999

We are going so far back that I have no idea what my first Rosa fan art was. It's not this – but I wanted to highlight it because I was incredibly proud of myself. Rosa, all sad and anguished because she's missing Cecil.

But let's talk some about her, the good and the -- maybe? -- bad.

October 1999

I first played FF4 in May 1999, on a rickety and unreliable Super Nintendo. The cartridge was prone to failure and wiped out my first save once I'd gotten the team underground. But by then, I was invested, too invested to give up and play Chrono Trigger or something. I had to find out what happened to Cecil and Rosa and everyone, so I slammed that cartridge right back in and started up a new game. Fortunately, that one lasted all the way through.

January 2000

As I said, it was my first JRPG, and I adored the medium, especially the story. Along with having a rickety SNES, I also had a house with a not-great internet connection, and this was long before you could easily look up Let's Plays and videos of your favorite scenes. Convinced in my young mind that the game might never properly work for me again and would never, I don't know, be republished, I immediately sat down and wrote a detailed, dramatized summary of the whole thing just so I wouldn't forget it.

April 2000

And my favorite element of the story was Rosa, the healer, the archer, the female lead. Maybe it's just that FF4 was my first game, but I like to think there's a special spark to Rosa that makes her stand out.

June 2000

I was bubbling over with enthusiasm and, along with writing out a detailed summary, I subjected my patient and obliging mother to endless dissertations on the characters and story. I specifically remember talking to her about Rosa, and her commenting that Rosa was a traditionally “feminine” character, even “passive” – a healer, a love interest, needing to be rescued not once, but twice.

November 2000

And I think that's worth exploring – as neutrally as possible. On one hand, in fiction we do have a very long history of imperiled, secondary, predominantly supportive heroines, and the fact that so many had to be written that way reflects something bad in the real world. On the other hand, I really do believe that most tropes are just tropes, and even if they've been overused, often badly used, that doesn't mean they can't be used.

August 2001

In a lot of ways, Rosa is a very safe character. Though she's a studied mage and master archer, that's not why she's in the story. Her main involvement is as a love interest, both to the hero Cecil and his rival/best friend Kain.

November 2001

Rosa's reason for joining the adventure comes down to her love for Cecil. She isn't seeking her own quest. She never states a goal that isn't Cecil's. In fairness, the game is very stripped down, and none of the characters voice very complex motives. You could just as easily say Cecil is Cid's reason for joining the adventure.

November 2002

But Rosa's story beats all come down to Cecil and Kain. Surely, on such an adventure, Rosa would grow and discover things about herself, but you never hear about it. What you hear about is her worrying about Cecil, worrying about the fate of the world, taking care of others, and of course getting kidnapped. All very safe, non-disruptive things for a female character.

June 2004

There are even moments where the game leans into a slight but still apparent sexism. At the siege of Fabul, despite Rydia and Rosa being practiced fighters and valuable mages, they're sent to tend to the injured while the men go off to fight.

June 2005

This is echoed at the end of the game when Cecil himself, who knows full well how powerful Rosa and Rydia are, still forbids them to join him in the ending level. There's some brief resistance, but then the girls, in all apparent obedience, quietly leave while the men remain to save the world.

September 2005

Part of it may be that Rosa comes from a very early video game, but if we look at sci-fi/fantasy itself as a genre, we had more boundary-pushing heroines long before the early 1990s, at least in the West. By then, we already had Princess Leia, Red Sonja, Alanna the Lioness, and others.

April 2006

Rosa is brave, talented, and loyal, but is she ultimately a regressive character?

October 2007

I don't know if I have a perfect answer to that. What I do know is that one of the things I've always loved most about Rosa is that she knows her own mind. Yeah, she'll support you. Yeah, she'll cast Protect and Haste on you, and then she'll Cure you when Bahamut takes your HP down to 1. But she does not do it meekly.

2008

One of her first scenes is her comforting Cecil as he deals with his thorny ethical angst. But she quickly stops murmuring kindly to him and tells him he can't just mope and complain about things. He has to take a stand. He has to own his actions – change himself, one of the themes of the game. She sees it long before he does, and she isn't exactly tender as she tells him.

July 2009

She joins the adventure for Cecil, but she doesn't join with him. He leaves without her (she doesn't beg to come with him, she has things to do) and when he goes missing, she sets off on her own in search of him, going faster and getting farther than he did before desert sickness stops her cold.

March 2010

And at the end of the game when this selfsame Cecil, this guy who grew up with her and is in a relationship with her and knows her so well, tells her to go home and be safe while he and the guys save the world, she does meekly turn around and leave. But she doesn't go far. She and Rydia stow aboard his spaceship and travel with him and the men to the moon. Whereupon she tells Cecil, with no ambiguity, that he cannot keep her from coming.

October 2011

Which is a good thing, because I have beaten FF4 many times, and let me tell you, you are not surviving the ending boss without Rosa Curing you, Protecting you, and probably Lifing you more than once.

February 2013

So have I exonerated Rosa? I've shown how assertive she really is. Have I proved she's not regressive?

October (?) 2018

Honestly, I'm not a big fan of the assertive woman = automatically good female character theory. A woman can be physically weak, even psychologically timid, and still be an incredibly interesting, complex, and strong character. And another can be bold and brave and badass and still remain uninteresting and shallow.

2020

But I think I've shown that, whatever Rosa is, she's not passive.

August 2021

Being a back-row archer isn't a problem, being a healer isn't a problem, being conventionally feminine isn't a problem. Even, at the end of the day, being a “safe” character isn't actually a problem. It comes down to how well the character's written – and, even more subjectively, how they connect with the audience.

May 2024

Rosa connected powerfully with me. Since then, other characters have come and eclipsed her number one spot in my heart. But I still love her a lot, and I don't want to see her dismissed.

[illfoandillfie]

Advent 2023: Day 2

This one was an original idea that I had a while ago. It follows on from the other clone-a-willy fics/blurbs I've written. One and Two.

Warnings: references to pornography/masturbation/anal/oral, piv sex, sex toys (dildos), sex tape. Not properly edited.

It didn’t surprise you that Ben watched porn. He was an adult with a relatively high sex drive, a man who’d had access to the internet during formative teen years, of course he watched porn. You watched porn sometimes too, so there was nothing shocking about Ben doing it. But what caught your attention was the sort of porn he’d been looking at. POV style – the camera showing nothing of the man but his cock, and nothing of the woman but her stretched ass or cunt, occasionally tits depending on position. Admittedly, you didn’t know whether those examples were indicative of his habits. You never intentionally went looking for what Ben had watched. All you knew came from a couple of moments when you’d opened his laptop to a still open browser or walked in on him by accident. Perhaps it was just coincidence that the handful of times you had seen something, it was the same style. Afterall, Ben had showed you porn a couple of times (and vice versa) as foreplay or inspiration for your own sex and none of that had been POV, so he must watch other things. But it did stick with you that he liked the POV stuff, and every so often you’d remember that fact and wonder how you could use it.  

The opportunity came around his next birthday. You’d bought him something he could tell his friends about, but you wanted something a bit sexy too, something just for him. After your conversation about training, Ben had bought a second kit in a different colour and you’d been working on anal training, so you'd originally thought that your first time with the real thing would make a suitable present. But you’d gotten a little too eager a few months previous and had already crossed that bridge. It wasn’t quite as special now that you’d done it half a dozen times. So you were at a bit of a loss what to do, until you remembered the porn.  

You did your research as you waited for a suitable day to record, watching some examples to see what the framing was generally like and what might be included. Truth be told, even after watching half a dozen videos you didn’t totally get the appeal of the POV style. You much preferred being able to see everyone involved fully, but then your tastes trended a little kinkier than Ben’s - bondage and spanking scenes to his fairly vanilla preferences. Either way, Ben seemed to enjoy the premise and so you did your best to imitate what you’d seen the first chance you got, when Ben was out for an entire Saturday with his mates.  

You tried not to rush too much, despite being excited for Ben’s reaction and a little nervous about being on camera. But you wanted to get it right, so you forced yourself to stay calm as you set your camera up, doing a handful of test shots to check your positioning before you were satisfied with the framing. It would have been easier had the clone dildo had a suction base, but you made it work. Riding it seemed like the most sensible option for the type of porn you were recreating, so you figured you edit the video so it’d start with you already working your fist up and down the toy, spreading lube along it’s length. Most of the videos you’d seen during your research had cut in min-penetration if not with the woman halfway to a slightly unbelievable orgasm anyway.  

Once you were ready to go you stripped off and took your place on the bed in the spot you’d worked out. The lube was close to hand, just out of frame, so you squeezed some out onto your palm and raised the toy, trying not to giggle at what you were sure must look like a very rapid erection coming into view. With a steadying breath you got started for real, holding the dildo with one hand as you began to jerk it off the way you knew Ben liked. Then, when you felt you’d wanked it long enough, you moved over it, lining it up and sinking down onto it with relative ease. It felt familiar in the oddly unfamiliar way you’d become familiar with – filling you just the way Ben did but recognisably not him. You had no trouble riding it though, practically forgetting the camera was on you as you lost yourself in the rhythm of it, moaning and telling Ben how good he felt and how much you loved his cock. And then you came, legs going Shakey as you tried to keep the stimulation going until you were through it. Watching back made you feel a little embarrassed and a little perverted and more than a little horny. You hastily edited it, trimming out the awkward beginning bit like you’d planned, then watched it through to make sure you’d stayed in frame. By the time Ben got home you were practically ready to tackle him so you could have the real thing.  

Ben’s birthday fell on a weekday when you had to work. So you decided to leave the present where he’d find it while you were out. You knew you’d be distracted all day wondering what he would think of it, but it was worth it to surprise him. You just hoped he’d send you some sort of text when he’d watched it. Thankfully he did, though it took a little longer for him to find it than you’d have liked. He’d spent most of the day on the couch playing video games, only finding the laptop you’d saved the file on after he’d found your note wishing him a happy birthday and telling him there was a surprise in the bedroom. He probably wouldn’t have worked out the surprise was on the computer without your helpful post it note telling him to press play.  

He called you within the first five seconds.   “Y/N, I bloody love you.”  You laughed, “Hello to you too honey. I take it you got the videos then.”  "There’s more than one?”  “Yeah,” you laughed, “Well, kind of. See, I wasn’t sure if you’d like um,” you paused, realising you were at work and probably shouldn’t say words like cunt or arse out loud, “front or back more. So I wanted to do one of each for you but the back one was a little harder to manage while keeping it in the same, like, style. So I did the front one like that and then did a second one from behind but it’s easier to tell it’s,” you dropped your voice to a whisper and hoped no one was listening, “not you fucking me.”  Ben barely seemed to hear your explanation, groaning as he located the second video, “what time are you getting home?”  “Uhh, not for another few hours I guess. How come?”  “Just wondering if I have enough time to get off to both of them and recover. I’ve never, and I mean this with the utmost respect and love, I’ve never wanted to pound you harder than I do right now.”  You fell into giggles again, nervously checking around you and hoping you weren’t blushing noticeably.  “I’m serious Y/N. You’re so fucking sexy and incredible and god, just looking at how well you ride me has me so fucking hard. I want to ruin you. I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk for a week and I haven’t even seen the anal one yet. The second you walk through that door I’ll be on you. In you.”  If you’d managed not to blush before you were sure you must be now, so tried to keep your voice as professional as possible, “Well I’m glad you like them. I look forward to this evening.”  Ben hummed, “I think it should be enough time. But I s’pose if I’m not quite good to go when you get here, then there’s two more of my cocks to get you started.”  You bit your lip to keep from whimpering or moaning and swallowed hard before you managed, “That sounds very reasonable.”  “If I wanted to be really mean I’d keep you on the line while I watch so you could hear me getting off to you.  You whined his name quietly, “Honey I’m at work.”  He laughed, “Sorry babe. You just really turn me on. I’ll show you how much tonight.”  “Okay,” you managed, “Happy birthday, love you.”  “Love you too. So much.” 

[swearyshera]

Advance apology for the long ask in a likely sea of 'em. A lot of people talk about wishing they could experience something they love again for the first time, this series was genuinely as close to that as I've ever felt. Just given the span of time my attention flucuated on and off but once the latter half of s4/s5 began my attention was absolutely nailed to your feed. Its up with Dragon Ball Z Abridged as parody series that become so dramatically effective they become a valid or definitive way to experience the series. Goddamned sensational.

Your portrayals of the characters soar. They provide a hilarious, cruder take on each that still cuts right to the soul of who these people are and lays it bare, which I think is the mission of any good-natured parody. Adora, Catra, Glimmer, Scorpia, Bow, Prime etc. There is not one that does not shine. It tackled a ton of issues and misgivings I had about canon, and even elevated or clarified many scenes and arcs through addressing them a more direct fashion. You took full advantage of not having to dress up and dance around the dark subjects canon was sort of doomed to handle inadequately given its age bracket and thematic priorities. Many scenes were jawdropping. Ive raved about it before, but your scene with Glimmer actually talking about her mom with Catra still leaves me gobsmacked every time I reread it. Your big moments towards the finale btwn Adora and Catra are obviously sublime and tie their wonderful arc off fantastically, but in my heart of hearts that cell talk will be the crown jewel of this project. Loved seeing the LGBT message take center stage in way canon had to hold back. To paraphrase Tolkien, I'm can't count myself among those gifted people, and youve def got a target audience in mind, but if youve ever worried if your stories resonate on a quote unquote "more universal" level, I promise you can put those worries to bed. Since becoming an adult ive intentionally sought out more and more queer-inclusive/created stories and I havent regretted it a bit, and the rising tide of fascist sexist/homo/transphobic bile in politics gets more and more frightening. But I've also seen how strong and resilient LGBT people are in the face of it, empowering themselves in no small part thru stories like yours. Please don't ever give up on your art. The world needs artists like you. Sorry if I come off pretentious or condescending, I feel like that when I try to get everything I think out at once. I'll be among the first to come running if you ever start another project like this or make something on an even grander scale. Thank you a thousand times for this. Also writing a wholeass sitcom pilot based on an offhand quasi-joke I made is the most weirdly touching thing I think anyones ever done "for me" (at least nominally cuz of me), especially a stranger. So thank you for that too.

Aw, you'll make me cry, you know! I think you've understood everything I wanted to do with this strip (or at least, when I started thinking beyond just 'characters saying fuck'), and... yeah, it's been an incredible journey, both for the blog and for me personally.

I've always tried to keep the parody good-natured. You can often tell, particularly in parody, when the creator dislikes one particular character (I mean, Horde Prime was probably the exception here), but I love all of them, so it really comes from a place of love. It's quite odd because I never set out to "fix" the show, and I wouldn't want to, but some things I've done seem to have had such an impact that a lot of people think I have done just that.

The Glimmer/Catra conversation is absolutely one of my favourite things I've written from this. It's such a pivotal moment in both their stories and character development, and I am truly humbled that multiple people have called it 'better than canon'. Like... I'm just some person trying to be funny and occasionally serious, and people are saying something I wrote is better than what a team of experienced professional writers did? Give over, no... But it's still a moment I can be proud of.

I won't be stopping writing things. This whole blog has given me a new lease of life and something to aim towards. I've got an excellent pilot script pretty much finished, and I do want to bring Hellspawn up to that standard too (thank you for suggesting someone make a Sweary Frosta sitcom - I'm someone!). That may well involve a complete re-write, but I'll be sure to share it.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your kind words along the way. It really keeps me going :)

[heartfeltletters-written]

onyx storm, chapters 8-14

Why is Aetos here ?? Is there no one else on the Continent available ?? Seems just so convenient that he's at Basgiath again .. 0/10

Also why undo the decision of Lilith of having him removed only two weeks after her death. She stripped him off of the control of Basgiath for a reason and if she died being very respected it makes little sense to me that the first thing they do is go back on her word but I digress.

Sending cadets to Samara is a wild choice given that a few chapters later Devera says that they can't afford to lose cadets anymore so there wont be more death in challenges. Is he really the person u wanna have running a school ??

Violet's nightmare ?? except she'd never dream of saying that to Cat so ... idk I'm going with the theory of sitq but changing it a bit. She sees possible futures like alternative universes yk, like in marvel with the infinity stones.

Which again makes no sense but we ignore

Rhiannon sleeping with a silk bonnet!! a black girly fr !!

these bitches flying to battle with no plan at all ... what the hell, sure.

making the dragons faint was .... a choice I'm hoping this is not foreshadowing.

Making garrick have a wind signet or wtv and then have them go through a tornado and garrick making nothing about it is a choice

Also marked ones having a second signet is very stupid I cant believe that's canon. lazy lazy lazy writing. if u need more signets make up new characters.

this girlboss of a venin !! slaaaaaay queen

she's also xaden's mother

but tbh I stan her bc she was like "I didn't even try to kill u and u go and kill my wyverns unprovoked" and I have to respect her.

since when do violet and xaden flirt like that this is an alternative universe

also the random drops of lore ?? what are all these herbs that we should know about ?? what are these gods that no one has ever talked about and MIND YOU we know about the gods bc there was like an excerpt of a book at the beginning of a chapter in FW (I think) so it makes even less sense.

“Here. A table in the gathering hall. Against the wall in fucking commons. I don’t care where or who sees as long as I can have him right now.”

me and helena were right and that's all I'll say about this scene. exhibionists truthers were vindicated !!

on another note that note that xaden wrote was not him lmao he does not speak like that.

so many feelings about jack !!! i take back what I said he's the only rational one in here bc he flat out told violet that venin aren't inherently evil, Navarre just refuses to see them for what they are. but i still don't like him.

Them giving hints about marriage good lord. Rebecca could work on subtlety

Why and how and when does Rhiannon know sign language.

TEACHER RIORSON YEAHHHH

Laws cant just end a relationship like that lmao. If it was legal before its legal now I genuinely don't care.

Also you were sleeping with your wingleader in your first year I think the time to respect the Codex went away a long time ago.

Not Grady being incompetent with no idea of what he’s doing my god they’re all doomed.

Isn’t following students against the Codex or something ?? if it isn't it should be. Why are u a 50yo man following a 21yo student. AND Harassing your youngest co-worker.

i can't believe I'm only on chapter 14. I feel like I've suffered enough.

u wouldn't believe the amount of times ive written "girl whatever" on my notes

[averagekindergartenfan]

• Partner

English class, 2nd period

‼️TW: HARASSMENT

(this is also very long so uhm, YOUTUBE SHORTS WATCHERS BEWARE)

Jacob was sitting in English class listening to the teacher talk about Romeo & Juliet, he thought it was pretty interesting but he probably wouldn't read it in his freetime. The teacher then stopped looking at the whiteboard and faced the students as she walked over to her desk

Ms. Lillie: "For today, you'll be partnered up with somebody to analyse the hidden meanings in each scene. I already have your partners written out on little paper strips, so you'll know who to get to :D"

"Alright, I guess I could help someone here, I do know some English linguistics anyway" He thought to himself. The teacher handed him a paper strip, so he read it and.....

"Jacob & Nathan!" ..Holy shit.

J: "...Oh! Uhm.. I kind of.. I don't know" He wanted to say something to the teacher but she was already at the other students' desks. He looked at Nathan and saw his face lit up just by a little bit... Jacob didn't really like this

*Time skip*

N: "So? You and me partners again after a while?"

J: "Please don't talk about it, I'm not really comfortable talking about our history"

N: "Come onnnn, brings back some memories doesn't it?"

J: "Yeah but I REALLY don't feel comfortable talking about that right now, we have a project to do"

N: "And we've got some life catching-up to do. So, how has is it been since you..well, left me."

J: "*writing in his notebook* I'm just fine, also could you like please focus on the project right now?"

N: "The project's due like next week, it's not like she's the type to change the date on us so suddenly. Speaking of date... You got one?"

J: "No but I'm fine without one"

N: "...You look fit to be my date, again."

J: "*sigh* Look, I don't want to talk about you and I right now, I'm just going through some stuff."

N: "Maybe I could help you out ;)"

J: "HELL THE FUCK NO Uhm, I'd rather you not"

N: "..Alright fine whatever, be a prick, not like I care. Let's do this dumb project"

*Minutes pass by and the bell rings.*

Everybody left the class and Jacob went to meet Linda, as per usual everytime class ends. All of the sudden, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He looked back to see who it was and, it was Nathan, his now again "partner"

N: "Ay, I wanted to talk to you about something"

J: "Uhm, sorry I was about to go meet my friend, maybe we could talk later"

N: "Bullshit, we're talking now"

J: "I-... Sorry?"

N: "I gotta talk to you now"

J: "I guess? I'll just text them that I'm busy with something"

N: "Yeah just do that real quick"

*Sound of Jacob typing on his phone. "Hey so like I have to talk to somebody right now, you don't mind if I'm gone for a bit right?" He sent to Linda. She replied back by saying "Yeah sure, I got Kayla anyways so I still got company", alright cool*

J: "So like, what did you want to talk to me about?"

N: "It's about us, like why are you so avoidant now? Everytime I tried to send you a dm you didn't respond, plus you got a new girl or something"

J: "Okay uh, I just don't really feel comfortable with you now. Like in the past you just pushed me around and just made me do the things you wanted to do, and like I didn't really want to experience that again so that's why I've been avoidant. Also she's not my girl, she's a friend for now"

N: "Yeah, for NOW. Next you'll just be with her moving on as if you and me never hung out at your place like everyday"

J: "Please don't mention that, it used to be fun but then it just got out of hand"

He was sweating bullets trying not to panic in public. Why would he talk about this NOW?! OF ALL TIMES?! Jacob frankly felt like he was walking on eggshells while talking to Nathan

N: "Come on it wasn't that bad, or are you still thinking of that one time when I got you to-"

J: "ALRIGHT! We should stop talking now, I really need to go my friend's waiting for me"

N: "NOT YET ASSHOLE!"

Nathan quickly grabbed Jacob's sleeve, just before he could even form a step. Jacob flinched as soon as he did that

J: "WHAT DO YOU STILL WANT TO TALK ABOUT?! We could do this another time!"

N: "US! still! *deep breath* Look, I still want to be connected with you, and I don't want you to just kick me out of your life. I still think about hanging out with you and..maybe doing a lot of other stuff but that doesn't matter. All I'm saying it, I want you back."

J: "...Well I- *sigh* I'm sorry, but for my sake I just don't want you back in my life at all. You genuinely hurt me a lot, and I just want to move on because being with you was a terrible period in my life. Again, I'm sorry, I hope you'll be able to accept this."

N: "...Fuck you."

Jacob watched as he turned back and stormed down the hallway. He was still frozen from fear and felt his heart stop. Why hasn't Nathan gotten over him by now?? Pretty sure he has a girlfriend now, he should be happy right? All Jacob could do was just shut his mind and walk it off, he did need to meet up with his friend anyway, not sure if she's still there. He went to his locker and looked to his right and saw usual Linda

L: "So, what did you and the 'somebody' talk about?

J: ".. Personal stuff."

L: "..Like what? Hope you don't mind me asking"

J: "I'd rather not talk about it"

L: "Oh, that's fine"

He tried to hold back tears and tried to relax his throat. Talking to him brought back awful memories, especially when THAT happened...

...Why is he my partner?