#this was. a lot. took way longer than I thought it would

[manmuncher777]

Guess who’s back after a 2 month long disappearance (I do that a lot, sorry)

BOSS!Nanami x Secretary!reader drabble

18+ smut xoxo

Boss!Nanami who isn’t sure how much longer he can keep his resolve with you. His perfect little secretary. All you did was make his life that much easier, and you did it all with a smile on your face. He was a professional, he was a grown man and he had to stop behaving like a hormonal teenager. But still, when you would walk up to him with that tight little skirt that hugged your ass in a way that made his breathing hitch - he wasn’t so sure of himself

“Here’s that report you needed sir, I also went a bit further ahead with my notes so you’re all caught up for your meeting” you hold the papers up to the burly man, who stands a head higher than you. cheeks all rosy as you gave him that grin. Crisp while blouse buttoned up just enough to be approximate, but not enough to stop Nanami catching a glance of the lace bra you were wearing from his view above you. His face flushed as he took the papers from you

“thank you y/n, you’re a life saver” he managed out after snapping himself out of his daze, what he really wanted to do was bend you over his desk and show you how greatful he was for alll your hard work, all those times you stayed on with him after work so he could finish quicker,all the extra work you do to make his life easier, the way you remember his lunch order and g and get it for him when he forgets.

Boss!Nanami who goes home thinking of you, the way your sweet perfume filled his nose as you passed, the bounce of your tits with every step you took - the way you looked In that goddamn skirt- but he was a professional; he was your boss. He would never act on his feeling for your - despite the way you giggled and blushed like a school girl the moment a bit of praise came from his mouth

“Brilliant work y/n” he would smile at you - your face heating up, cheeks blushing baby pink. It sounded so sensual coming from his, despite the neutral statement

Boss!Nanami who would undress after a long day and hop in the shower for some relief. that relief being jacking off to you in his head, how you would look splayed on your back over his desk as he ruined you, pulling endless orgasms out of your begging cunt. imagining how you would look in that skirt, bunched up at your thighs as you perched under his desk with his throbbing cock in your mouth, precum dribbling down your chin as you worked him. How it would feel to sink into that cunt of yours after a long tiresome day.

and as soon as that shower was over he would try and wash those thoughts of you away - it rarely worked - as he was a professional

Boss!Nanami who walks in to the christmas work party not really wanting to be there, he had one too many glasses of champagne trying to pass the time and the whole thing was starting to drag - who the hell throws an office party in the actual office?

Until he spotted you. Hair done beautifully, framing your features in a way that somehow made you look more beautiful. that dress you were wearing showing off your tits in a way Nanami had never seen - he did his best to not stare. and the way it hugged your curves had Nanami loosening his tie, trying to manage his breathing.

He wasn’t doing a bad job at maintaining his composure, that was until you made your way over to him, hips swaying, pink cheeks due to the alcohol you’d had already. Your plump glossed lips asking if he was okay, if he was having a nice time. He did his best to maintain the small talk, to keep control. But when that waft of perfume hit his nose - Nanami decided he was a bit fed up of staying professional all the time

Boss!Nanami who had go you to his office, making an excuse about wanting you to read a report. there was no report.

Boss!Nanami who’s lips were on yours the second the door closed behind him. The little whimpers driving him crazy as they left your perfect lips.

Boss!Nanami who really lost it when he heard you whine “Sir please”. He cleared his desk, sitting you on top of it as he stood between your luscious thighs, hands roaming all over your body, he just had to feel you, had to smell you, had to kiss you all over.

Carelessly marking your neck, sucking and biting wherever he could, he’d give you his suit jacket later so you could cover yourself

Boss!Nanami who was on his knees in front of you, eating and sucking at your cunt like a man starved. His tongue savouring the taste of your juices as he sloppily ate your cunt. His huge hands keeping your hips in place as they tried to grind against his face. He was loosing himself in the state of you, his dress shirt half unbuttoned, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. The hair he had previously slicked back now falling sexily into his face as his tongue worked you over and over. Your whines of his name giving him motivation to keep going, not stopping until your legs were shaking from how many times he made you cum

“You’re doing so well for me sweetheart” “always such a good girl for me, the best girl.” “more? darling i’ll give you whatever you need, just ask” “you see how crazy you make me? you’re just to good to me” “come one sweetheart let me repay all of your hard work”

Boss!Nanami who has you bouncing on his cock, sat in his office chair as he watched your delicious tits move in front of his face. he couldn’t wait any longer, dragging your hand away when you went to return the favour of him eating you out “nuh uh darling, my turn to be good to you”

The moment he sunk into your tight little hole, Nanami went feral. Thrust up into you at a brutal pace, his cock bullying your gummy walls until you were gushing all over him. You’re wetness stripping onto his thighs as he pistoned into you. Nanami had never felt this pent up before. Hearing you gasps and moans had him pussywhipped. His hands gripped yout hips with brushing force as he stared at you, watching every little expression of your face

Boss!Nanami who had you creaming on his cock within minutes before he pumped his cum deep inside you hips stuttering and legs faultering as he came with a groan, finishing deep inside you

Boss!Nanami who helped you clean yourself up, kissing your skin as you dressed yourself, helped you fix your hair and gave you his suit jacket In order to hide the marks he had left - he would rather you show them off to the whole office when you both returned to the party, you face pink and legs wobbly. His cum leaking from you. But after all - he had to remain professional

[red-doll-face]

Imagine reader playing with Arthur's hair while he grumbles and pretends he's not totally into it >>>>>>>>😭🙏 But when you actually stop he's like 😳😞

that sounds so cute, i would love to run my fingers through his hair!!! 💖💖💖🥹🥹🥹 i wanted to do something short but writing for arthur always seems to run away from me, idkkk whyyyy i can never do anything bite sized with this man i stg. 😔😳😭😭😭 idk i guess small just doesnt cut it when it comes to this man 😏 i sort of took this as a request so i hope im not doing too much LMAO beware: sweetie weenie boy arthur...veryyyy fluffffy

Arthur doesn't like his hair as long as you like it but he can put it aside for you.

(high honor) Arthur Morgan x fem. reader

You had always thought Arthur’s hair looked nice, just a little bit longer than he preferred. Ok, maybe a lot longer than he preferred it but you couldn't help but like the way the strands fell in his pretty blue eyes, watching his big hands and fingers push it back over his head. His little frustrated huff when it inevitably slips back to feathering over the sides of his face was all too cute. You liked the way the sun caught the more blond strands; turned them a bright gold. You know the big scary outlaw, Arthur Morgan would never use the word beautiful to describe himself but you could use that word for him every day of every week.

And he doesn't always intend to grow it as long as he does, he runs out of time to get anything done about it, much preferring to return to your little corner of camp to rest with you sooner than stop in town. He’d rather come back to you, to get to lay his eyes on you than to spend another moment away from the sweet kiss you give him when he rejoins you.

 Of course, he was as strong as a draft horse. Arthur could handle just about anything thrown at him. But Dutch had a way of running him ragged. When it wasn’t Dutch, it was the other camp members and when it wasn’t them, it was himself. The pressure to be everywhere, to do everything; it crushed his shoulders down. You did what you could to help. It's why you so thoroughly enjoyed these quiet moments, just you and him in the cool evenings. 

“...Look at all this. Honey, I need a goddamned haircut,” he’d say, standing in front of the little mirror where he shaved his scruff after it grew too bushy. You sit on his bed, pouting at him. He stands with his hands gripping the edge of the barrel, turning to the left and the right. The way his hair bounced around made you giggle. 

“But-” 

“Yeah, you like it, I remember,” He sighs.

“I do, Arthur. I just think you look very handsome with your hair like that,” You look at his hair and then your eyes wander to his strong forearms gripping the lip of the barrel. You had found Arthur to be eye-catching the day that you met him. And his personality only bolstered how much you liked him. He could play at gruff simpleton brute but he had more sense and wit than most of the other men combined. He was more soft than he wanted to admit too, but he showed those pieces of himself to you. His vulnerabilities he liked to keep to himself; now he shares with you. 

“Right. You keep on tellin’ your beautiful lies; I might just start believin’ you,” He chuckles at the word ‘handsome’. You make a face at his self deprecating attitude. How he makes jokes of himself to keep his insecurities from seeming like they're bigger than they are. But the corners of his mouth always tug downwards when he’s looking in the mirror, even when he only intended to look at his hair or at his beard. 

“Arthur, I’m not lying. Come here?” You’re more siren-like than you realize; your beckon makes him turn, huffing a little. As if he knows he’s in some degree of trouble. The little disappointed frown you have is something he can’t help but look away from. Arthur leans away from the barrel and steps closer to you. He reaches for his hat that sits on the table at his bedside but you stop him, a gentle hand over the top of his. 

Your hand tugs him closer and he allows you to guide him. You squeeze his palm, those hard working hands, rough from all that he does with them.

He lets himself relax, which he rarely does, he’s always doing something or on his way there. But you love to hold him in your arms. To make him stay still with you for awhile.

He sits and the sweet kiss he gives you makes you light up. But you motion to have him lay over you while you play with his hair, even if you can tell he wants to keep giving you kisses. His head is in your lap while he uses your plush thighs as pillows. He’s a bit stiff, as if unwillingly and begrudgingly doing as you say. His brow still crinkles a bit, some of the lines on his face from pulling grimaces are creased. You lift the strands upwards to marvel at how long they are. 

“Too damn long,” 

“No, never,” you coo at him through his faux displeasure.

“Never? You’re kiddin’ me, sweetheart. Only you could want a man with hair down to his ass,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. You miss how he softens even more at your laugh, he liked that you found his jokes funny or at the very least, silly enough to warrant such a reaction.

“Ok, ok, you can get it cut, but maybe not so short on the sides? I like when it’s long here,” You look down at his eyes, petting the loose locks he usually wants to cut a bit shorter to keep hair off of his neck. 

“I’ll think on it; it’s still on my head, ain’t it?”

You giggle humming contentedly as you continue rubbing his hair in your fingers. He relaxes more even as he continues to murmur about how much he can’t wait to watch it all get chopped off at the barber in town. You shake your head, feeling him go soft from his usual intensity. 

Your nails lightly scratch against his scalp, your fingers pet his hair this way and that. Then you transition to what you know he likes, a repetitive soothing motion through the locks of his hair. The way the small furrow just over his nose bridge flattens out makes you smile. You can see his hands stop fussing, his lungs fill with a deep breath and puff it out slowly. He props one leg over his bed and the other hangs down to the floor. And he might grumble but those turn into simple rumbles of soft pleasure. You watch the tension leak from him, his usual stiffness weakening.

You’re pretty sure you can lull him to sleep like this, the rhythmic stroking over his hair and scalp like a lullaby. You comb his hair backwards, his thick hair is tangled in some places and you help work through it gently. When you feel you’ve perhaps messed with his hair enough, you remove your hands. One of his eyes slips open from where he had both closed in a sleepy gesture; revealing that gem toned hue. He looks grumpier than when you started, perhaps a little disgruntled. 

“What?” you ask, knowing he misses the sensation of your fingers fiddling around in his hair. “Thought you didn’t like me ruffling your feathers,” you tousle it a little. The teasing in your voice is prominent when you smile down at his small scowl, no real bite behind his bark. 

He seems to flush a little bit, you can appreciate the way his blushes crawl up his face, he can never hide how you make him feel. His artificial glare melts away. 

“It should be you, I guess- ya know, rufflin’ my feathers,” his sentimental tone brings him out of his element, showing his nerves around you. Not so steadfast now. You smile warmly and shyly as well, touched by his genuine feelings, the ones he told you just as bashfully that he harbored for you.

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE CAN DO NO WRONG 😍💓🫂😭😳🥰 thank you for reading !!

[elryuse]

Evergarden Familia 2

Yandere Gahyeon X Male Reader

Tags : Yandere Mafia Gahyeon, Dominant Gahyeon, Dark n Gritty, A Lot Of Torture, Submission, Obsession

Words : 8,1k

Another Commission For My Friend @starconstruction On Tumblr and Ko-fi. Hope you Liked it Buddy.

The months following Y/n’s escape from Evergarden were a haze of sleepless nights, constant vigilance, and fleeting moments of hope. The city was a labyrinth of shadows, but no corner was truly safe from Gahyeon’s reach.

She was relentless.

Each time Y/n moved to a new safe house, news of her growing influence would follow him. Her reputation as the Queen of Evergarden spread like wildfire, her power cemented with fear and ruthless efficiency.

He heard whispers of her searching for him, offering exorbitant rewards to anyone with information. The underworld trembled at the mere mention of her name, but Y/n held onto his freedom with every ounce of his being.

Four months after his escape, Y/n found himself in Busan, a city far removed from the chaos of Seoul. The salty sea air and bustling markets provided a fleeting sense of anonymity.

For weeks, he had managed to stay under the radar, taking on odd jobs to sustain himself. But his luck was running out. Supplies were low, and he was nursing an infected wound from a skirmish with one of Gahyeon’s bounty hunters.

As he sat in a dimly lit motel room, bandaging his arm, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. The walls seemed to close in around him, the weight of Gahyeon’s looming presence suffocating.

“Just a little longer,” he muttered to himself, though the words felt hollow.

That night, it happened.

The sound of boots echoed down the motel hallway, followed by hushed voices and the metallic click of a gun being cocked. Y/n’s heart pounded as he grabbed his knife, knowing he couldn’t fight his way out this time.

The door burst open, and there she stood. Gahyeon.

She was dressed in all black, her hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Her eyes burned with a mix of fury and longing as she stepped into the room.

“Y/n,” she said, her voice deceptively soft. “Did you really think you could run from me?”

Y/n gripped his knife tightly, his gaze locked on hers. “I had to try.”

Gahyeon tilted her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “And look where it got you. Bleeding, hiding… pathetic.”

Her words cut deeper than any blade, but Y/n refused to back down. “I’m not going back with you, Gahyeon.”

“Oh, you don’t have a choice,” she said, her tone sharp. “You belong to me, Y/n. You always have.”

The fight that ensued was brutal. Y/n lunged at her, but she was faster, stronger, and more prepared. She disarmed him effortlessly, pinning him against the wall with a knee to his chest.

“You’re weak,” she hissed, her face inches from his. “You can’t survive without me.”

Y/n struggled, but the infection and exhaustion had taken their toll. He could barely lift his arms, let alone fight back.

Gahyeon leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. “You thought you could escape, but deep down, you knew I’d find you.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine. She was right—he had always known this day would come.

---

The days that followed were a blur. Gahyeon took him back to Evergarden, her grip on him tighter than ever. She refused to let him out of her sight, assigning guards to watch him even in her absence.

Y/n’s protests fell on deaf ears.

“I don’t care what you want,” Gahyeon snapped during one of their many arguments. “You’re mine, Y/n. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.”

“You don’t own me,” Y/n shot back, his voice trembling with anger.

Gahyeon’s expression darkened, her eyes glinting with dangerous intent. “Oh, but I do. And the sooner you accept that, the better.”

Over time, the constant battles began to wear Y/n down. Gahyeon’s obsession was unrelenting, her love twisted and suffocating. Yet, there were moments—fleeting, rare moments—when he saw glimpses of vulnerability in her.

Late at night, when the world was quiet, Gahyeon would sit beside him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I only wanted to protect you,” she whispered once, her voice tinged with sadness.

Y/n didn’t respond, but a part of him couldn’t deny the sincerity in her words.

Still, the weight of her possession pressed down on him, grinding his sanity to dust.

Y/n sat by the large window of the Evergarden estate, watching the rain streak down the glass like tears. His reflection stared back at him, a hollow shell of the man he once was. Gahyeon’s mansion was a gilded cage, trapping him in a life that wasn’t his own.

She had won. She always won.

The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock. It marked the hours, minutes, and seconds of his confinement. Y/n leaned back, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the scar on his forearm—a souvenir from one of Gahyeon’s hunters.

“You’re thinking of running again.”

Her voice startled him. He turned to see Gahyeon standing in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway. She wore a loose, elegant dress, her hair cascading over her shoulders.

“I’m not,” Y/n replied, his voice flat.

Gahyeon stepped into the room, her presence overwhelming as always. “Liar.”

She closed the distance between them, her movements deliberate and predatory. Y/n stiffened as she sat beside him, her hand resting on his knee.

“Why do you keep fighting me?” she asked softly, though her tone carried an edge of danger.

“Because I’m not a possession,” Y/n said, his gaze meeting hers. “I’m a person, Gahyeon. Not something you can lock away and control.”

Gahyeon’s expression flickered, a brief crack in her armor. “You’re more than that to me.”

“Am I?” Y/n challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

The tension between them was palpable, stretching thin like a thread about to snap. Gahyeon’s grip on his knee tightened, her nails digging into his skin.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “I’ve lost too much, Y/n. I won’t lose you too.”

“You’re not losing me,” Y/n replied, his tone weary. “You’re suffocating me.”

Her eyes burned with an intensity that made his chest ache. “You’re the only thing that keeps me sane,” she whispered. “The only person I can trust.”

Y/n wanted to believe her, but the weight of her obsession made it impossible.

Over the following weeks, Gahyeon’s behavior grew more erratic. She would oscillate between moments of tenderness and terrifying possessiveness.

One night, Y/n found her sitting in the garden, staring blankly at the moonlit flowers. She looked small, almost fragile—a stark contrast to the ruthless queen she presented to the world.

“Gahyeon,” he said softly, approaching her cautiously.

She didn’t look at him. “Do you hate me, Y/n?”

The question caught him off guard. He hesitated before replying, “I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you keep trying to leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because…” Y/n struggled to find the right words. “Because I can’t live like this. I can’t be what you want me to be.”

Gahyeon turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want you to be anything but mine.”

Her vulnerability was disarming, but Y/n couldn’t ignore the darkness that lurked beneath it.

The breaking point came one stormy night.

Y/n had been confined to his room after a heated argument. Gahyeon’s paranoia had reached new heights, and she had ordered guards to ensure he didn’t try to escape again.

But Y/n wasn’t deterred. He had spent years as a pawn in the 3 Crows, learning how to manipulate his environment to his advantage.

When the opportunity arose, he slipped out of the estate under the cover of darkness, his heart pounding with the exhilaration of freedom.

He didn’t get far.

Gahyeon found him hours later, drenched from the rain and cornered in an abandoned warehouse. Her guards had been sent away, leaving them alone in the echoing silence.

“You never learn,” she said, her voice cutting through the darkness like a blade.

Y/n squared his shoulders, refusing to cower. “I can’t keep living like this, Gahyeon.”

“And I can’t live without you,” she countered, her eyes flashing with fury. “Why can’t you see that?”

Their argument escalated, the storm outside mirroring the chaos between them.

“I’d rather die than be your prisoner,” Y/n shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.

Gahyeon’s hand shot out, grabbing his collar and pulling him close. “You don’t get to choose, Y/n,” she hissed. “You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”

The storm outside raged on, but the tempest in Gahyeon’s eyes burned hotter. The abandoned warehouse felt like it was closing in around Y/n, her presence suffocating and inescapable.

“You’d rather die?” she repeated, her voice low and venomous. “How dare you even think that?”

Her grip on his collar tightened, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her nails dug into his skin, and he could see the storm brewing within her—a volatile mix of fury, heartbreak, and unrelenting obsession.

“You don’t understand what you mean to me,” she whispered, her tone deceptively soft. “You’re not just some pawn in my game, Y/n. You’re my king.”

He scoffed, his defiance flickering despite the fear gnawing at him. “A king in chains is no king at all.”

Her lips twisted into a cruel smile, one that sent chills down his spine. “You think you’re in chains? No, my love. This world is the chain. I’ve freed you from it.”

Before Y/n could respond, Gahyeon pushed him against a rusted pillar, pinning him there with an iron grip. The storm outside howled through the broken windows, the wind whipping her hair around her face like a dark halo.

“You don’t get to leave me,” she hissed, her voice trembling with a terrifying mix of rage and desperation. “Not now. Not ever.”

Y/n struggled against her hold, but she was stronger than he remembered. Her obsession had fueled her, turning her into something more dangerous than he could have anticipated.

“You think you’re the only one suffering?” she continued, her voice rising. “Do you know what it’s like to build an empire, to rule a kingdom, and still feel empty because the one person you love keeps trying to run away?”

Her words cut deep, but Y/n refused to back down. “Love? This isn’t love, Gahyeon. This is madness.”

Her hand shot to his throat, her grip firm but not choking. Her lips curled into a sinister smile as she leaned in, her breath hot against his ear.

“Madness?” she whispered. “Maybe. But it’s the kind of madness that will burn this world to the ground if it means keeping you by my side".

Gahyeon released him suddenly, stepping back as if to give him space. But her movements were calculated.

“You want to see how far I’ll go for you?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. “Fine. Let me show you.”

Before Y/n could react, she pulled out her phone and made a call. Her tone was cold and commanding. “Bring them in.”

The warehouse doors creaked open, and two of her men entered, dragging a battered figure behind them. Y/n’s heart sank as he recognized the man—a contact he had made in Busan, someone who had helped him hide.

The man’s face was bloodied, his body trembling as Gahyeon’s men threw him to the ground.

“Gahyeon, don’t—” Y/n began, but she silenced him with a raised hand.

“You think you can run from me?” she said, her gaze fixed on the trembling man. “You think anyone can hide you from me?”

Without hesitation, she pulled a gun from her holster and aimed it at the man’s head.

“Stop!” Y/n shouted, stepping forward.

She turned to him, her eyes blazing. “Then stop fighting me, Y/n. Stop running. Admit that you’re mine.”

Y/n’s fists clenched, his mind racing. He hated her for what she had become, but he hated himself even more for the part of him that hesitated, that feared what she might do.

“I’ll never be yours,” he said, his voice steady but his heart pounding.

Gahyeon smiled—a cold, predatory smile. “Oh, you will be. One way or another.”

The man’s scream echoed through the warehouse as Gahyeon pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot reverberated in Y/n’s ears, but it wasn’t just the violence that shook him. It was the way she turned to him afterward, her expression serene, as if she had simply swatted a fly.

“Do you see now?” she asked, her voice soft and almost tender. “No one can protect you from me. No one can love you like I do.”

Y/n stared at her, a mixture of horror and disbelief washing over him. “You’re insane.”

Gahyeon stepped closer, her hand reaching out to cup his face. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the blood on her hands.

“Maybe I am,” she admitted, her smile bittersweet. “But you’ve made me this way, Y/n. You’re the reason I’m like this. And you’re the only one who can keep me sane.”

Y/n's nightmares had become his reality. Each passing day, Gahyeon tightened her grip, molding him into a weapon for her empire. His protests, his defiance-none of it mattered. She had decided that if he wouldn't love her willingly, she would make him indispensable to her reign.

The cold steel of a gun now felt like an extension of his hand. Every bullet fired, every life taken-it all added to the growing abyss in his soul.

"Do you see, Y/n?" Gahyeon murmured one night as they stood on the rooftop of Evergarden's fortress, overlooking the city she now ruled. "This is the world we're creating together. You and I-unstoppable."

Y/n said nothing, his jaw clenched as he stared at the distant city lights. Those lights were a reminder of everything he had lost.

"Your silence doesn't bother me anymore," Gahyeon continued, stepping closer. "Because I know you'll fight for me. You'll kill for me."

Her hand rested on his shoulder, her grip firm. "And soon, you'll understand that there's no life for you outside of this. Outside of me."

The missions began the next day.

It started with a rival syndicate encroaching on Evergarden territory. Gahyeon had no patience for negotiations. She wanted blood, and she wanted Y/n to be the one to spill it.

"I don't want to do this," Y/n said as they sat in the back of her armored car, her guards flanking them.

Gahyeon tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting. "You don't have a choice, my love."

She reached into her coat and pulled out a sleek, black knife, pressing it into his hand. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm telling you what you'll do. For me. For us."

Y/n stared at the blade, its weight heavier than anything he had ever held.

"Why me?" he whispered, his voice hollow.

"Because you're the only one I trust," Gahyeon said simply, her voice laced with conviction. "And because every time you fight for me, you prove that you belong to me."

The attack was swift and brutal.

Y/n moved through the rival syndicate's headquarters like a phantom, taking down guards with precision and efficiency. He hated how natural it felt, how years of being Sang-hyun's weapon had made him so adept at taking lives.

When the last body fell, he stood amidst the carnage, his hands slick with blood.

Gahyeon entered the room moments later, her heels clicking against the blood-stained floor. She surveyed the destruction with a satisfied smile, her gaze finally landing on Y/n.

"You did well," she said, her tone warm, almost affectionate.

Y/n dropped the knife, his chest heaving with the weight of what he had done. "I'm done. No more."

Gahyeon's smile faltered, but only for a moment. She stepped closer, cupping his face in her hands.

"Oh, Y/n," she murmured, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You don't get to decide when it's over. Only I do."

As the weeks passed, Gahyeon continued to use Y/n as her weapon, sending him on mission after mission. Each time, she would watch from the sidelines, her eyes filled with a twisted pride.

"You're perfect," she told him after one particularly bloody battle. "Everything I've ever wanted."

Y/n felt himself breaking under the weight of her words. He wanted to hate her, but her twisted affection left him conflicted.

One night, after a particularly harrowing mission, Y/n finally snapped.

"I'm not your toy!" he shouted, slamming his fist against the table in her office. "I'm not some puppet you can control!"

Gahyeon remained calm, leaning back in her chair. Her fingers steepled as she regarded him with a predatory smile.

"You're more than a puppet," she said. "You're my partner. My equal."

"Equal?" Y/n spat. "You don't treat me like one."

Her smile widened. "Because you haven't accepted your role yet. But you will. In time."

The breaking point came when Gahyeon ordered Y/n to eliminate a group of innocent civilians who had unknowingly crossed Evergarden.

"They're not a threat," Y/n argued, his voice trembling with anger.

"They're an example," Gahyeon countered coldly. "One the rest of the world needs to see."

Y/n refused, throwing the gun to the ground. "No. I won't do it."

For the first time, Gahyeon's composure cracked. Her eyes blazed with fury as she approached him, grabbing his face with both hands.

"You don't say no to me," she hissed. "Not now. Not ever."

Y/n met her gaze, his own eyes filled with defiance. "Then kill me, Gahyeon. Because I won't be your monster anymore."

The room fell silent, the tension between them palpable.

Gahyeon's grip loosened, and for a moment, Y/n thought she might actually let him go. But then her lips curved into a chilling smile.

"You'll do it," she said, her voice soft but unwavering. "Not because I'll force you, but because deep down, you know you're already mine."

Y/n's world had become an unending spiral of blood and shadows. Every mission, every death-each step brought him closer to a point of no return. And through it all, Gahyeon watched him with a possessive intensity, her control over him tightening like a noose.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/n began to feel like a ghost haunting his own life. His soul, once so heavy with defiance, now felt hollow.

"You're quieter than usual," Gahyeon remarked one evening as they dined in her lavish penthouse.

Y/n didn't respond. He stared at the untouched food on his plate, his appetite long since stolen by the weight of his actions.

She reached across the table, her hand brushing his. "You're doing good work, Y/n. Evergarden is stronger than ever because of you."

He pulled his hand away, his voice cold. "At what cost?"

Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "Don't start this again."

"You've turned me into something I never wanted to be," he said, his voice rising. "I'm not your soldier, Gahyeon. I'm not your weapon."

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "You're mine," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. "Everything you are, everything you've done-it's all for us. For Evergarden."

Y/n pushed back his chair, standing to face her. "For you, you mean. This isn't about us. It's about your obsession with control."

Her eyes darkened, and for a moment, he thought she might strike him. But instead, she took a deep breath, regaining her composure.

"Do you know what happens to people who defy me, Y/n?" she asked, her tone dangerously calm.

"I don't care anymore," he said.

Her lips curled into a sinister smile. "You will."

The next day, Gahyeon summoned Y/n to a secluded warehouse-a familiar setting, one that made his stomach churn with dread.

When he arrived, he found a group of men tied to chairs in the center of the room. Each one bore the bruises and cuts of a brutal interrogation.

"These men tried to betray me," Gahyeon said, stepping out of the shadows. "They conspired with a rival syndicate to overthrow Evergarden."

Y/n's fists clenched. "What does this have to do with me?"

She handed him a gun, her eyes locked onto his. "You're going to make an example of them."

"No," he said immediately, his voice firm.

Gahyeon's expression hardened. "This isn't a request."

"I'm done killing for you," he said, throwing the gun to the ground.

Her gaze turned icy, and she stepped closer, her presence suffocating. "If you don't do this, Y/n, I'll make sure their families pay for their betrayal. Their wives, their children- I'll burn their entire lives to ash."

His heart sank. She had him trapped, as she always did.

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Yes, I do. Because this is how I keep control. And if you won't help me, I'll make you watch as I do it myself."

The first gunshot echoed through the warehouse, and Y/n felt a part of himself shatter.

He had done it. He had pulled the trigger. Not because he wanted to, but because Gahyeon had left him no other choice.

When it was over, the room was silent, save for the ringing in his ears.

Gahyeon approached him, her hands reaching out to cup his face. Her touch was gentle, almost tender-a cruel contrast to the carnage around them.

"You see?" she murmured. "You belong to me, Y/n. Body, soul, and everything in between."

He didn't respond, his eyes hollow as he stared past her.

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're perfect, my love. And one day, you'll thank me for this."

That night, as Y/n lay awake in the darkness of his room, he felt something inside him shift.

He couldn't keep living like this. He had to find a way out, even if it killed him.

But deep down, he knew that escaping Gahyeon wouldn't be easy.

She wouldn't let him go. Not without a fight.

The air in the Evergarden penthouse was tense as Gahyeon paced back and forth, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Y/n stood in the middle of the room, his arms crossed, defiance etched into every line of his face.

"I'm not doing it," Y/n said flatly, his voice firm.

Gahyeon stopped pacing and turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. "You don't get to decide that."

"I just did."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between them like a loaded gun.

For a moment, Gahyeon's expression softened, as if she were pleading with him to see reason. "Y/n, I don't want to fight you on this. This is for us for Evergarden."

"This isn't for us," Y/n shot back. "This is for you. For your obsession with control."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her patience wearing thin. "You don't understand what's at stake here."

"I understand perfectly," he said. "You want me to kill another rival, another threat to your empire. But I'm done being your weapon."

Gahyeon's jaw tightened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Do you think you have a choice? After everything I've done for you, after everything we've built together, you want to walk away?"

"It's not walking away," Y/n said, his voice rising. "It's reclaiming what little humanity I have left."

Her eyes darkened, and the softness in her expression vanished, replaced by something colder. "Humanity?" she said, her tone mocking. "You think you can have a normal life after everything you've done? After everything I've done for you?"

"I'd rather die than keep living like this," Y/n said, his voice trembling with emotion.

Gahyeon took a step closer, her presence overwhelming. "You don't mean that."

"I do," he said, meeting her gaze with defiance.

Her composure cracked, and for a brief moment, Y/n saw the vulnerability beneath her hardened exterior. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a steely resolve.

"If that's how you feel," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "then you've left me no choice."

The punishment came swiftly and without mercy.

Two of her most loyal enforcers dragged Y/n into a dimly lit basement, his struggles futile against their iron grip. They chained him to a chair in the center of the room, the cold metal biting into his wrists and ankles.

Gahyeon entered moments later, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. She dismissed the enforcers with a wave of her hand, leaving her alone with Y/n.

"I didn't want to do this," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "But you've forced my hand."

Y/n glared at her, his chest heaving with anger. "You think this will make me obey you?"

"I think it will remind you who you belong to," she said, her tone devoid of emotion.

She stepped closer, pulling a knife from her coat. The blade glinted under the dim light, and Y/n felt a chill run down his spine.

"You'll heal," she said, almost as if trying to reassure herself. "But you need to learn that defiance has consequences."

Y/n's breath hitched as she pressed the blade against his cheek, the cold metal sending shivers down his spine.

"Do you know why I'm doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you're a monster," Y/n spat.

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "No, Y/n. I'm doing this because I love you. Because I can't lose you."

She pulled the blade away and stepped back, her hand trembling slightly.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said, her voice breaking. "But if it means keeping you close, if it means keeping you safe, then I'll do whatever it takes."

The days that followed were a blur of pain and exhaustion. Gahyeon didn't allow Y/n to leave the penthouse, keeping him under constant watch. She personally tended to his wounds, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the darkness of her actions.

"You'll thank me for this one day," she said as she wrapped a bandage around his wrist.

Y/n didn't respond, his eyes hollow and distant.

Gahyeon's gaze softened, and she cupped his face in her hands. "I know you hate me right now, but that's okay. Hate is still a connection, Y/n. And as long as we're connected, I can work with that."

He turned his head away, refusing to meet her gaze.

She sighed, her thumb brushing against his cheek. "You'll see, my love. This is all for us. For the glory of Evergarden."

The basement was silent, save for the occasional drip of water echoing through the room. Y/n was strapped to the cold metal chair once again, his wrists and ankles bound so tightly the restraints dug into his skin. His shirt was torn and bloodied, his breaths shallow and labored.

Gahyeon stood before him, her silhouette illuminated by the dim, flickering light. She looked almost ethereal, an angel of death watching over her prey.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” she said softly, her voice calm yet laced with steel. “But you’ve left me no choice, Y/n. I told you, didn’t I? You belong to me.”

Y/n didn’t respond. His head hung low, sweat and blood dripping from his chin onto the floor.

“You’re strong,” she continued, circling him like a predator. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. That’s why I love you. But even the strongest need to be reminded of their place.”

She crouched down, lifting his chin with her fingers. His eyes, though dull and heavy with exhaustion, still held a spark of defiance.

“You’re still fighting me,” she whispered, almost admiringly. “But you can’t fight forever.”

The hours stretched into eternity. Gahyeon’s methods were meticulous, calculated to break him piece by piece. Sometimes it was physical—blades tracing shallow lines across his skin, ice-cold water poured over his head to shock his senses. Other times it was psychological—taunting him with his failures, whispering promises of freedom that would never come.

“Why do you resist me, Y/n?” she asked during one of the sessions, her tone almost tender. “Don’t you see? There’s no life for you outside of this. Outside of me.”

Y/n gritted his teeth, his voice hoarse. “I’d rather die than be yours.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, she looked as if she might strike him. But instead, she stepped back, composing herself.

“Die?” she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You think I’d let you escape me that easily? No, Y/n. You don’t get to leave me. Not ever.”

Eventually, his body began to betray him. The lack of sleep, the relentless pain—it all blurred together, breaking down his defenses. His mind grew foggy, his thoughts tangled and incoherent.

Gahyeon noticed the change immediately.

“You’re close now,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “So close to surrendering.”

Y/n’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out.

She leaned in, her breath warm against his skin. “It’s okay, my love. Let go. Stop fighting.”

The moment came unexpectedly. One final, whispered taunt from Gahyeon was all it took to shatter the last remnants of his resolve. His shoulders slumped, his head falling forward as a broken sob escaped his lips.

“There it is,” Gahyeon said softly, her voice filled with satisfaction. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

She cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. His eyes, once filled with fire, now stared back at her with emptiness.

“You’re mine now,” she said, her tone dripping with possessiveness.

She pressed her lips to his, the kiss soft but filled with a fierce intensity. When she pulled back, she began to shower him with kisses, her lips brushing against his forehead, his cheeks, his jawline.

“You don’t need to fight anymore,” she whispered between kisses. “You don’t need to think. Just let me take care of you.”

Y/n didn’t resist. He couldn’t.

She pulled him into her arms, cradling him like a prized possession. “You’ll see, my love. This is how it’s meant to be. You and me, together forever.”

Gahyeon’s breath was hot against his ear as she leaned in, her voice a low, sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “You’ve been running from me for too long,” she said, her tone laced with amusement and something darker—something possessive. Her fingers trailed down his arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He tried to pull away, but her grip tightened like iron, her nails digging into his skin just enough to remind him who was in control.

“Let go of me,” he growled, his voice strained, though there was a tremor beneath the anger. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else entirely. Her lips curled into a smirk, those dark eyes gleaming with a hunger that made his stomach twist.

“Oh, darling,” she cooed, tilting her head as if he’d said something adorable. “I told you already. You don’t get to decide when this ends.” Her other hand cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He flinched at the touch, but she only smiled wider. “You’re mine now. Whether you like it or not.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word, her lips crashed against his. The kiss was anything but gentle—it was hungry, demanding, and utterly consuming. She claimed him with a ferocity that left no room for resistance, her tongue slipping into his mouth as though she wanted to devour him whole. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but the fight slowly drained out of him. Against his will, his body began to respond, heat pooling low in his gut as she pressed herself against him.

When she finally pulled back, he was breathless, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Her gaze locked onto his, those dark eyes filled with a predatory gleam. “There it is,” Gahyeon said softly, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

She cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. His eyes, once filled with defiance, now stared back at her with an emptiness that only fueled her obsession. “You’re mine now,” she declared, her tone thick with possessiveness. Her thumb brushed over his lower lip again, her touch lingering as though savoring the moment.

Her lips began to wander, peppering soft kisses across his forehead, his cheeks, his jawline. Each kiss was tender, almost reverent, yet there was an undeniable intensity behind them. “You don’t need to fight anymore,” she whispered between kisses, her voice honey-sweet and hypnotic. “You don’t need to think. Just let me take care of you.”

He didn’t resist. He couldn’t. Something about her touch, her voice, had shattered the last remnants of his resolve. His body felt heavy, his mind clouded, as though she had cast a spell over him. She pulled him into her arms, cradling him like a prized possession, her fingers gently carding through his hair. “You’ll see, my love,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. “This is how it’s meant to be. You and me, together forever.”

Her hands slid down his chest, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing every inch of him. When they reached the hem of his shirt, she tugged it upward, her movements unhurried but purposeful. He didn’t stop her, his mind still foggy, his body pliant under her touch. The fabric slipped off his shoulders, puddling at his feet, and she hummed appreciatively, her gaze raking over his exposed skin.

“Perfect,” she breathed, trailing her fingers down his torso. Her touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through him despite the conflict raging in his mind. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, then another just above his collarbone. Each kiss burned like a brand, marking him as hers.

His breath hitched as her lips moved lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her hands found his waistband, and she paused, looking up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, though they both knew the answer. Her fingers toyed with the button of his jeans, her smile widening when he remained silent.

“That’s what I thought,” she purred, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down with agonizing slowness. His jeans pooled at his feet, leaving him completely vulnerable before her. She stepped back, her gaze roaming over him with blatant admiration. “So beautiful,” she murmured, her voice almost reverent. “And all mine.”

She closed the distance between them again, her hands finding their way to his hips as she guided him backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, she pushed him down, following him as he fell onto the mattress. Her knee nudged his legs apart, and she settled between them, her weight pressing him into the sheets.

Her hands roamed over his body, her touch equal parts gentle and commanding. She leaned down, capturing his lips in another searing kiss, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. He moaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips, and she grinned against him, clearly pleased with his response.

“That’s it,” she whispered, breaking the kiss to trail her lips down his neck. “Just let go. Let me take care of you.” Her hands continued their exploration, mapping out every curve and plane of his body as if committing him to memory. When her fingers brushed against his growing arousal, he gasped, his hips jerking instinctively.

She chuckled, the sound low and husky, and wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly. “See?” she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. “You don’t have to fight it. You belong to me now.”

Her movements became more deliberate, her grip tightening ever so slightly, and he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. She took advantage of his exposed throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, her teeth grazing lightly just to hear him whimper.

“Gahyeon…” he managed to choke out, his voice ragged. It wasn’t a plea for her to stop—it was something far more dangerous. He hated how much he wanted this, how much he craved her touch despite everything.

“Shh,” she soothed, kissing him deeply again, her tongue sliding against his in a way that left him dizzy. “Don’t fight it, my love. Just feel.”

Gahyeon’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she felt him shudder beneath her touch. She could see it in his eyes—the surrender, the way his defenses crumbled like sand slipping through his fingers. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his breath hitching as she continued to stroke him, slow and teasing, drawing out every ounce of his resistance until there was nothing left but her.

“That’s it,” she murmured, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Just let go. You don’t need to hold back anymore.” Her fingers tightened around him, just enough to make him gasp, and she leaned down to capture his lips again, her kiss fierce and demanding. He moaned into her mouth, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to touch her but didn’t dare.

She pulled back slightly, her breath mingling with his as she whispered, “You can’t even move without me, can you? That’s how much you need me.” Her tongue flicked against his bottom lip, and she bit down gently, eliciting another groan from him. “Tell me,” she coaxed, her voice soft but insistent. “Tell me who you belong to.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he fought against the words, but Gahyeon wasn’t patient. Her hand moved faster, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip of him, and his resolve shattered. “Y-you,” he stammered, his voice hoarse. “I belong to you.”

Her smile widened, and she released him abruptly, leaving him trembling and desperate. “Good boy,” she purred, her hands sliding up his chest as she shifted above him. She positioned herself so that her thighs bracketed his hips, her warmth hovering just above him. “Now… let me show you what it means to be mine.”

With a slow, deliberate movement, she lowered herself onto him, their bodies joining in one fluid motion. His breath hitched, his head falling back against the pillows as she took him inch by inch, her own breath coming in shallow gasps. She reveled in the sensation, in the way he filled her completely, and when she finally settled against him, she let out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Do you feel it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “How perfectly we fit together? Like this was always meant to be.” She rocked her hips gently, testing the waters, and a shiver ran through her as pleasure sparked along her nerves. “You were made for me, my love. Only me.”

He clenched his teeth, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape him, but Gahyeon wouldn’t allow it. She began to move, her pace steady and unhurried at first, each roll of her hips designed to draw out every ounce of pleasure. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, his knuckles white as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, but it was no use. She was in complete command, her body moving with a rhythm that left him helpless.

“Look at me,” she commanded, her tone sharp but laced with a strange tenderness. Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she smiled down at him, her eyes burning with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through him. “I want you to watch as I take what’s mine.”

Her movements grew more forceful, her hips slamming against his with increasing urgency. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by his choked gasps and her soft moans. She was relentless, driving them both closer and closer to the edge, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held on tightly.

“Say it again,” she demanded, her voice breaking slightly as pleasure coiled tight within her. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” he gasped, his voice strained. “I belong to you, Gahyeon.”

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a wave of pure satisfaction washing over her. “Again,” she breathed, her hips never faltering in their rhythm.

“I belong to you,” he repeated, louder this time, his body arching beneath her as the pressure inside him built to unbearable levels. “Only you.”

She could feel it—the tension in his muscles, the way his breathing turned ragged—and she knew he was close. But she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. With a sharp twist of her hips, she slowed her pace, forcing him to endure the agonizing buildup for just a little longer.

“Not yet,” she cooed, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “I want to savor this.” She resumed her movements, slow and torturous, her fingers trailing down his chest as she watched him unravel beneath her. “You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “Completely at my mercy.”

He groaned, his hands grabbing at her waist as if to urge her on, but she shook her head. “No, my love. This is my pace. My rules.” She pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss, her tongue delving into his mouth as she ground down against him, the friction sending sparks shooting through both of them.

When she finally allowed herself to pick up speed again, it was with a wild abandon that left him reeling. Her hair fell in messy waves around her face as she rode him with everything she had, her cries mixing with his as they spiraled toward release together. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, she pushed them both over the edge, their voices rising in unison as pleasure consumed them entirely.

Gahyeon collapsed against his chest, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she clung to him. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her ear, a frantic rhythm that matched her own, and she smiled against his skin. “Mine,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Forever mine.”

Gahyeon lay there for a moment, savoring the warmth of his body beneath her, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. She traced lazy circles on his skin, her fingers lingering over the scars and imperfections that made him human, made him real. Her human. Her lips curved into a small, possessive smile as she pressed a kiss to his collarbone, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin.

“You’re so perfect,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry. “Every part of you… every breath, every heartbeat. All mine.”

Y/n stirred beneath her, his fingers twitching slightly as if trying to regain control of his body. But Gahyeon was quick to react, her hand sliding down to grip his wrist firmly, pinning it to the bed. “No, no,” she chided softly, her lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t get to move unless I say so. Remember? You belong to me.”

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, but they locked onto hers almost instinctively. There was something in that gaze—something raw and vulnerable—that made her heart ache with a twisted kind of love. She cupped his face again, her thumb stroking his cheekbone as she leaned in closer, their breaths mingling.

“Do you understand?” she whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “You don’t need to think. You don’t need to fight. Just let me take care of you. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

He didn’t respond, not with words, but his body relaxed under her touch, his resistance fading like smoke in the wind. Gahyeon smiled, triumphant and tender all at once, and shifted her weight so she could straddle him properly. Her hands roamed his chest, her nails scratching lightly over his skin, leaving faint red lines in their wake. She reveled in the way he shivered beneath her, the way his breathing hitched when she found a particularly sensitive spot.

“You’re so responsive,” she purred, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. She nipped at the skin there, just hard enough to leave a mark, a reminder of who he belonged to. When she pulled back, she admired her handiwork, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk.

But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. She wanted more—more of him, more of this feeling, this connection. She wanted to lose herself in him completely, to drown in the heat of his body and the sound of his voice. So she did what came naturally: she took.

Her hands slid lower, tracing the line of his hips before gripping him firmly. He gasped, his back arching off the bed as she began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. She watched his face closely, drinking in every twitch and tremor, every flicker of pleasure that crossed his features.

“That’s it,” she coaxed, her voice soft yet commanding. “Let go. Let me make you feel good.”

He groaned, his head tipping back against the pillows as her hand moved faster, her grip tightening just enough to drive him wild. She could feel him hardening in her grasp, could feel the tension coiling in his body, and it only fueled her own desire. Her thighs clenched around him, her core throbbing with need, but she forced herself to focus on him. This was about control. About possession. About him.

When she sensed he was close—too close—she suddenly stopped, pulling her hand away and earning a desperate whimper from him. His hips bucked, seeking friction, seeking release, but she simply shook her head, her smile widening as she leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Not yet,” she teased, her breath warm against his skin. “I want to see how much you can take.”

She shifted again, positioning herself above him, and slowly lowered herself down, taking him inch by agonizing inch. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as she felt him fill her, stretching her in the most delicious way. Once she was fully seated, she paused, giving them both a moment to adjust, to savor the connection. Then, with a slow roll of her hips, she began to move.

Every thrust was deliberate, every movement calculated to draw out the pleasure for both of them. She kept her pace steady, unhurried, her hands braced on his chest as she rode him. Her hair fell in messy waves around her face, sticking to her skin with sweat, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the way he looked beneath her, the way his eyes glazed over with bliss, the way his hands clutched at the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.

“Look at me,” she commanded, her voice firm despite the breathlessness creeping into her tone. Reluctantly, his eyes met hers, and she smiled, her movements becoming more intense, more demanding. “Good boy. That’s it. Just like that. Don’t look away.”

He obeyed, his gaze locked onto hers as she pleasured him, as she claimed him completely. She could feel her own climax building, coiling tightly in her stomach, but she held on, determined to push him over the edge first. Her rhythm faltered, her hips stuttering as her control slipped, but she tightened her grip on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she pressed on.

“Come for me,” she urged, her voice breaking on the words. “Please. I want to feel you. I want to know you’re mine in every way.”

His breath caught, his body tensing beneath her, and then he was coming undone, his release spilling into her with a ragged groan. The sight of him—lost in ecstasy, utterly at her mercy—was enough to send her spiraling over the edge as well. She cried out, her walls clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.

For a moment, neither of them moved, both too lost in the aftershocks to do anything more than breathe. Then, slowly, Gahyeon collapsed against his chest, her cheek resting over his heart as she listened to its rapid beat. Her fingers trailed idly over his skin, tracing patterns only she could understand.

“Mine,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Always mine.”

- To Be Continued -

[wandixx]

"There is only so much you can for the dead" part 2

continuation to this, I should probably make an original title at some point

trigger warnings: graphic describtion of Danny's death

Moments of blissed, deadly stillness felt unfairly short. It was less than blink of an eye, less than a drop of darkness after he asked Team for the last time to leave and before he woke up, in exactly same state that he was when portal spat him out. He could barely perceive his limbs, and what he could, was consumed by agonising pain.

Fuck, he hated Death Days. Absolutely horrible experience.

His nerves were on fire, electricity dancing and burning across them. His veins and lungs and nostrils and ears and stomach and eyes and mouth and every little crevice of his body was filled with ectoplasm, like liquid fire and evaporated ice, drowning him at every attempted breath. He was crushed by an unimaginable weight, at the same time as his body exploded. He was just coherent enough to feel his bones breaking, cells bursting, his very molecules being rearranged and destroyed and rebuilt but not coherent enough to tell if his scream was anything louder than a whimper.

He was in the middle of the crowd that screamed louder than he could handle, as if every person who ever got to Ghost Zone used this exact moment to let out all of their anguish, hands dragging and pulling and squeezing and brushing at every inch of his skin. He was alone like no one was ever before, in silence that was deafening. He could be stomped to death any second without anyone turning his head, and so separate from everything that he could be only existing being.

He couldn’t help but wait for Death, merciless and brutal, whose twisted children invaded his bed time stories since he could understood words, whose corrupted children he was taught to hate. She was hideous and horrifying, but against everything, she was familiar and he wanted, needed, to see one intimate face in the situation that was so wrong, wrong, wrong. He waited for her to rip his last breath away so everything would stop.

If he had a scrap of himself that could feel worse, it’d cry when he felt her getting away from him, slipping between the fingers that were both tense and limp, impossible to control but possible to feel, broken and twitching. She was getting away but pain wasn’t lessening, maybe even getting worse, to the point where it was only thing that filled his brain.

And then it all stopped. No pain, not even any left over typical to how injuries worked, just a moment of weird pressure against his palm (just like the button), that soon stopped too.

He was in his human form, but in the hazmat he wore just before the accident. Something was wrong about it all. Something in his body made it feel like not his. Something in his chest was too light and too quiet and some intrusive thought made him want to claw on his rib cage until he ripped it open and realized what was missing.

Breathing seemed to easy, enough that he got lightheaded. It got a lot harder when he realized.

He couldn’t feel his core.

Before he managed to come to terms with that, there was a gentle pressure on his hand again.

And the pain returned.

*-*-*

Danny didn't wake up abruptly, with a choked scream and phantom burns. He also didn't wake up slowly, not in the nice, relaxed way at least, when the line between dream and reality is blurred beyond recognition. He woke up in pain, feeling like he wasn't even sleeping before, just… somewhere else while his body was destroying itself again for what felt like decades.

It took some effort to connect with his body after he woke up. To be able to move even a finger. Even longer, to open his eyes. Actual ages to sit up without urge to scream.

After seeing the absolute wreckage of the room, he kinda wished it took him longer. It looked like a warzone. Electrical burns on the walls and ceiling, random puddles of bubbling ectoplasm eating away anything they touched like an acid, and what little stuff there was before, was almost all broken beyond recognition, either by whatever force was doing its thing during his death day show or ecto. When he looked at it a bit more, it seemed to go in spiral around him.

It was kinda sad that the cookies went to waste like that. He was curious who brought them in though.

Thank fucking Ancients that Team listened to him and nobody was there when the whole mess was going down. They would probably join him on the other side of the veil otherwise.

He saw it all only because of his ghost enhanced in dark vision (thank Ancients he stayed in the ghost form) because apparently his Death Day shorted out both main electrical circuit and the emergency one. Thankfully, according to his ears, it only reached this and rooms next to him, instead of the whole Mountain.

Fuck. He really hoped Robin gave him some sort of back-up back-up room because otherwise he was dead. Or well, dead-er.

He rolled out of the bed, barely catching himself from smacking on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Though some would argue he didn’t catch himself if only his face didn’t fall to the floor like the sack of potatoes.

Only then he caught sight of big, ecto-green circle that embed itself into the wall right over the bed. It had familiar vibes. Really familiar…

He had to tell the Team about it yesterday.

*-*-*

M'gann was sitting on the needles, just like everyone else. Sure, Phantom asked them to forget about him and essentially ignore whatever was happening to him, but there was no way they'd actually be able to do it. Case in point, first time alarms about shorting out of the electrical circuit in the room. They run there so fast that they had door open to see what was wrong before the absolute onslaught of electricity and ectoplasm and something else turned off the alarms thirty seconds later. Truth be told, they couldn’t do much, not without risking becoming second ghostly member of the Team, they’ve been there and ready. Conner tried to come in anyway, with his invulnerability and such, but they had to drag him out when despite extensive dodging he got hit five times by the time he got two steps into the room. Also, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.

So they just spent last almost twenty hours alternating between different things to keep themselves occupied enough to not fall asleep and distract themselves from quilt but not enough to not be able to drop it at the moments notice if it was needed. First plan was to nap in shifts if it was necessary but it quickly became apparent that sleep was impossible with how worried everyone was and when M'gann proposed to just shut down their brains with her powers, everyone got really defensive. Well, no was no. So they just sat, at the moment in awkward silence because every topic that wasn't Phantom felt too inane and every topic that was Phantom felt too… just no. No name for why, just no.

M'gann was about to get up to make another batch of peanut butter and oatmeal snacks that took few minutes to make and could be dropped at any second, when Conner practically jumped in his seat, tilting his head to hear better. Robin perked up from whatever he was doing on his wrist computer at the same time.

"Phantom left the room!” they exclaimed at the same time, jumping out of their seats.

This head start didn’t matter by the time everyone ran or flew out to the corridor, racing against clock to the room where they left Phantom. It didn’t seems so before, but now M’gann just cursed their past selves for not waiting somewhere closer. There wasn’t really any place where they could stay instead, unless they set camp right outside his door, but it still. They should be there five minutes ago, like Wally, who obviously run off.

They heard Wally speaking before they’ve seen him.

“Hey, hey calm down. It’s fine, they’ll be there in a second, just chill. They’re right after me, whatever happened, we’ll help you in just a moment, you don’t have to run. You’re barely standing. Phantom, calm down”

M’gann barely made it around the corner and she thought she had seen Kaldur actually smacking into the wall. He brushed it off.

Phantom looked beyond rough. It seemed like Wally, who had ghost’s arm across his shoulders, was only thing holding him up. His feet were firmly on the ground, not in his usual way, when he looked just a breeze away from flying, but in this fully human way, which was unsettling. His face was gray instead of his usual almost tan, eyes wide and terrified.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, not looking at anyone in particular “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

“Phantom, it’s fine. It’s fine, we know about the room, it’s fine,” Robin said, trying to placate him. It didn’t quite work. Ghost was on the verge of hyperventilating, which was a bit weird to see on someone for who breathing was voluntary.

“It’s not about room”

“I’m sure it’s fine anyway”

“It’s anything but. I’m sorry-”

“Shut up and tell us what happened if you’re so sure we will be pissed”

“Artemis!”

“Portal”

“What about it?”

“Portal is what killed me.”

M’gann didn’t like how the whole situation looked before, but it suddenly became much worse.

“My Death Day made another one”

[utilitycaster]

thank you so much for your analysis on BH, Ive been thinking for ages that they seemed like the wrong fit for this particular campaign and it's nice to see that I'm not alone. It kinda baffled me that even knowing the crux of the campaign was going to be about the fate of the gods, Matt didn't like... just tell the cast that their characters opinion on divinity would be important?

I really feel like this plot needed more religious characters, even if they weren't outright clerics or paladins. The only one filling that role is Sam and while I love him and FCG his approach to religion seems kinda... cynical? shallow? Possibly just more focused on the goofs of it all. Which is a fine choice in a vacuum but god, what I wouldn't do for this party to have a Caduceus or even a Vax figure so it didn't feel like a bunch of agnostics were deciding the fate of religion.

So here's my opinion, and I've said this before: I agree that making characters who had a coherent, developed opinion on divinity before the campaign that was discussed as part of the character build is important...but I actually don't think it matters if there's no clerics or paladins or even religious characters. I also said this before: my ultimate problem, in the end, is not just the indecision but the fact that they're not even exploring indecision; they just are drifting through a narrative from which they feel disconnected. I as a person viewing the show think killing the gods is a dumb idea, but a campaign in which the characters confidently embraced an anti-god position and took actions in the service of that goal would be infinitely more enjoyable. I do not need characters to live out my personal values, because I do that in my real life, in the same way that I can enjoy characters who are vastly different than I in personality.

I think Keyleth is a fantastic example of both indecision as an actual conscious character trait (during Campaign 1) and a character who is not religious or even particularly respects the gods but who seems to have actually thought through the implications and made an assessment. Keyleth's analysis paralysis and fear of making a harmful decision or being hurt is the point of the character, and Marisha explores it directly during Campaign 1; it is ultimately what is holding Keyleth back from becoming the leader she needs to be, and working through it is the arc of her character. Avoidance or indecision is a fantastic character flaw to explore (Bellara in Veilguard is a recent example that's been on my mind) but it is a character flaw to be explored, and for the character to do something interesting with, and Bells Hells just...as I've said, drift. They keep going through open doors because they are there and never say "do I even want to go through this door? Why or why not?" and the entire purpose of a character in fiction, in my opinion, is to ask that question.

I actually pretty strongly disagree about FCG. I think they took a bit longer than I'd like to click but I actually found FCG's exploration of religion to be one of the deeper ones in the series. I think the party often disparaged it, and the fandom certainly did ("Fearne should make that stupid robot eat his own coin" will remain burned in my brain forever; I cannot take someone who said that as anything but a shriveled husk of a person unless they admit it was horribly mean-spirited and they regret it) but FCG is the rare member of Bells Hells who actually explored the concept of having autonomy and agency - that was his entire arc, actually - and to have this be told through embracing the god of chance and freedom, whom he learned about by chance, was a highlight of the campaign. I would strongly advise you reconsider seeing this as nothing but a bit; just because Sam tends to make a lot of dumb jokes doesn't mean he's not often telling a pretty profound story underneath, and this is a lesson it took me until this campaign to learn, to be honest. But I will say I don't think FCG being here now would fix things any more than Braius does, in part because the rest of the party looked down on faith but also didn't really condemn it. They just made vaguely unkind comments and continued doing fuck all. As my ask earlier today said, they didn't actually challenge each other; they just sort of passive-aggressively bitch. The point that many people made very early on, that Bells Hells has a veneer of cooperation and civility but lack the actual true bonds that only arise through working through conflict, remains true.

Getting back to it, I think the fact that NPCs who are not affiliated with the Prime deities nor Betrayer Gods and even struggle against them (Percy, Keyleth; the entire Kryn Dynasty; a massive number of entirely secular governments including the Clovis Concord, the remnants of the Cerberus Assembly, as far as I know the Marquesian governments, the Silken Squall) are unambiguously against Ludinus and the release of Predathos means that it's not the lack of clerics or paladins or everyday religious people. I don't care if agnostics decide the fate of the world, but DAMN those agnostics better have a fucking vision for what the world should be. I could talk at length about why I think killing the gods is a deranged and unrealistic solution to the problems the characters claim to think it will fix, but ultimately I don't even feel like the characters care about those problems. The titans are still going to be fucking dead, conquest and colonialism already exist within Exandria without the aid of any gods. Hell, Ashton's whole situation could be replicated precisely again in a world with no gods; and as the Ruidusborn were created by Predathos as keys to release it, I don't think there's a reason to have any more but I don't think that's really what Imogen was going for. It's the same kind of thing we call rapture culture among terminally online types: the idea that with one big act of violence you will usher in a new, better age. The idea that violent change is inherently for the better is infantile and utterly self-centered, as is the idea that putting off a choice until it becomes inevitable is anything other than selfish and stupid. I would rather the choice of the fate of the gods come from atheists who weren't infantile and self-centered and selfish and stupid than clerics and paladins who were. That's it.

[tkdb-hell]

luca 35

#35 - An awkward kiss given after a first date.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

The evening air was crisp as you walked alongside Luca, the quiet hum of Frostheim’s aurora shimmering in the sky above. The two of you had spent hours together, the date filled with warm laughter, shared stories, and the occasional teasing remark. Now, as the night drew to a close, an odd tension hung between you—something new, something that wasn’t there before.

You glanced at him, catching the way his purple eyes darted toward you, then quickly away. He looked nervous.

“Did you have fun tonight?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Lucas gave a quick nod, his signature friendly smile lighting up his features, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, a lot of fun. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in a long time.” He scratched the back of his neck, his other hand fidgeting with the silver ring in his ear. “You’re… really easy to talk to.”

Your heart fluttered a bit at his words, but before you could respond, he slowed his steps, coming to a stop in front of the Frostheim dormitory entrance. His usual confident demeanor faltered as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Uh, so…” He cleared his throat, a slight pink tint blooming on his tan cheeks. “Thanks for tonight. It really meant a lot.”

“Of course.” You smiled warmly. “We should do it again sometime.”

Lucas opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He looked torn between saying something and just letting it go. You tilted your head, curious about his hesitation.

“Is something wrong?”

“No—well, yes—I mean…” He let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck again. “I just… I had this idea in my head about how I wanted tonight to end, and now I feel like I’m overthinking it.”

You blinked, piecing together his words. He wanted to kiss you. The thought made your pulse quicken, but you stayed quiet, giving him space to figure it out.

Lucas took a deep breath, steeling himself. His hand lifted halfway toward you before he seemed to second-guess the movement, letting it drop awkwardly. “Okay, uh, I’m just gonna… go for it. Is that okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how nervous he was, the sound making his blush deepen. “It’s okay, Luca,” you said softly. “Go for it.”

He hesitated a moment longer before leaning in, eyes flicking nervously between yours and your lips. The moment felt both incredibly slow and too fast as his lips finally brushed against yours.

It was… clumsy. His lips barely touched yours before he pulled back too quickly, as though afraid he’d done something wrong. But even in its awkwardness, the kiss was sweet—genuine, like everything about Luca.

“Sorry, that wasn’t—” he began, but you didn’t let him finish. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him again, firmer this time, reassuring him.

When you pulled back, Lucas was wide-eyed, stunned into silence. Slowly, a grin spread across his face, one that reached his eyes this time, making them shine brighter than the aurora above.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly, “I definitely want to do this again sometime.”

You laughed, taking his hand in yours. “Then it’s a date.”

As the two of you stood beneath the shimmering lights of Frostheim, hand in hand, the awkwardness of that first kiss melted into something neither of you would ever forget—perfect, in its own way.

[gemisbored]

a whole swarm of Hornets!

I've been working on this bit-by-bit over the course of several days. hope everyone likes their Hornets!

@raddest-laddest @featherlouise @dooblebugss @a-sociopath-do-your-research @cheese-grater-terminator @malk-with-tea @dairyfreenugget @abugshapedeldritchbeing @conconpasta @xylo-art @ostebee @linnyaaaa @tenyardstowitchyard @ruthlesslistener @doodledrawsthings @rainechiime @ridleymb @foileadeux @thehappiestgolucky

[khesi]

Hiiii thereee! Okay so I know you're a big Furilumi fan, so I was wondering if you could help me collect all the info and events that imply it, and their general dynamic and stuff??? Anything about their relationship in all canon or semi-canon content. I'm working on the Traveler x Genshin chars list again, and I'm honestly undecided on how to interpret Furina's feelings for the traveler, so I thought you could help :>>>

Hellooo~ and gosh I'm flattered that you think so.

I will say that while I am a fan; I'm not as die-hard as others maybe. I'm very much a characters-before-the-ship kinda gal when it comes to Furilumi (also in general with other characters).

Like if you were to put a gun to my head and ask me what is my top Travelver X Character ship "canon wise", Furilumi wouldn't even be top five. (also I am adult enough to admit that I'm very much wanting to fuck Furina a Furina x Reader shipper more than anything)

But even with all that, I think they are cute together together and they have an interesting dynamic that can be explored.

I'm wasn't quite sure how you wanted the information or how much you wanted. I'm just gonna go through certain moments from quests Furina & Lumine have been in together so far. And just talk about them.

Also if I forget a scene or something please forgive me!

When Lumine first meets Furina at the very start of the Fontaine Archon quest, she isn't being herself.

As we all know, Furina was acting as the role of Hydro Archon. So calling it a proper meeting isn't accurate, since I tend to believe we don't meet the real Furina until much late. This isn't just in reference to her identify, but also her true personality.

Also it was just basically Furina going "We are rivals now!" and Lumine being like "....sure I guess?".

But I thought it important to high light it since it does establishes their early dynamic.

Furina knows about what The Travelver has done and sees her as an answer to her problems;

She has been chasing the one trial to end all trials; the one case that is so spectacular that is will save Fontaine from the impending floods. And what better opposition than the famous Outlander?

And she says at much at Lyney's trial:

Although there is perhaps a bit of fear at what the The Travelver could do, Furina is sure that their face off will soon happen. And that the odds will be in her favour (even though she kinda doesn't know what she is doing lol), with her being determined to save Fontaine.

It is always hard to truly know what the Travelver themselves is thinking. But I would guess Lumine also views Furina as a means to an end. It is the reason she is traveling Teyvat finding her brother.

This shows that while they both are different, they are very willing to do what they can to obtain their goal. Whether that means playing a role for 500 years, or travelling all over the whole continent, they will searching through any scarp of information to find the answers.

While Furina does lose and is, from Paimon's own words: "...like a deflated balloon now." I think Furina is more sad that it wasn't "The Trial" more than anything. Especially since she is "...unable to contain her joy at seeing you and Paimon enter.", when coming to protect her while meeting with the Arlecchino. Showing that she doesn't have any ill will towards Lumine.

Granted this could be because Furina is utterly terrified of The Knave as well trusting in Neuvillette very much. But still that rivalry is put on hold. But from this little tea party Lumine starts feeling distrusting of Furina, thinking she is hiding something. And from the events of Poisson, this just grows.

While Lumine is willing to go through the plan with others to trap Furina, this is very much a last resort;

Lumine doesn't want to be feuding with Furina; this rivalry that Furina has thrusted upon them is something she doesn't want. And while Lumine is reluctant to do this, she knows there is no choice. The Travelver doesn't think Furina is a bad person. But they need answers, and as such it seems that they are both destined to be on oppositions at court.

But Lumine still tries one last time to get through to Furina.

This part of the Fontaine Archon quest is one of my favourites; this is where Furina's thoughts and feeling finally start to poke out.

It happens because Furina's greatest fear is coming true, but still. Pretty good.

Lumine is very much on to the act that Furina plays. She knows that is she isn't godly or uncaring as she may give off. Lumine tries to show to Furina that it is okay to let go:

If Furina had been quicker and had told her the truth, Lumine very much would have stopped the plan. But from what we know, Furina would have never told. She was dedicated to the very end.

Skipping to after the Hydro Archons trial and the crisis being averted. We don't get anything until Furina's story quest.

Story quests are in general kinda a mixed bag. They are can be great in show casing the playable characters, well character. As well as expanding on the world as a whole. But sometimes they just focus on the second part a bit too hard and the character suffers from.

Now looking back at Furina's quest, it probably wasn't as bad as I thought originally. Well at least looking through just the lines by themselves is fine (Paimon is still...well I have thoughts on how they utilise Paimon's character when it comes to story. They use her as comic relief/to lighten it up when it is not needed...But that's a convo for another day).

There are at least some good bits to take from.

The first being that the reason Furina even helps the Troupe in the first place is because the Travelver drags them (literally and figuratively) into the plot. By the way of hand-holding no less.

After the ordeal that Furina has been through she is actually quite reluctant to be out and about. Furina strikes me as someone who is introverted, this very well could because she has had no real personal relationships.

On topic of personal relationships, Lumine is properly the only person who knows about what Furina truly felt during her 500 years of acting. This is cause of Furina unconsciously trama-dumped on Lumine, but still. Having someone who has seen the many sides to you, can be nice. Furina can be candid with Lumine, not needed to put on a performance. But I'm sure Furina also feels it is kinda awkward. Because 'Oh archons this person knows all about me', it crates an unexpected power imbalance, which can make for an interesting dynamic with the Travelver.

Another good moment is when they are back in Poisson;

If there is one ideal out of the seven that The Travelver embodies most, it is freedom. Freedom is very important to Lumine and I think it's very telling when she tells Furina that freedom is her reward. She is saying to her that it's It's over, and that she is free to begin a new chapter of her life.

So I think it's no coincidence after this quest Furina ends up being a director in "Roses and Muskets". She breaks out of her shell a bit and once again comes along on the Travelver's behest. Granted there aren't that many scenes/moments with them since this was very Chevreuse forward event. This is also similar in the Lantern Rite, but we did get a cute diagonal where Lumine says "I have keenly felt the passage of time since our last meeting." so that was cute.

Unfortunately since Furina has only been out for 7 months we'll have to wait for more. Hopeful in 4.6 (if it follows the same patterns) we will get her second story quest, and that it's a little bit better.

But there are voice-over and teapot stuff! (Had to get these from the wiki since I don't have Furina fully unlocked. yeah yeah know)

These are pretty self explanatory. Just Furina wanting to spend time with the Travelver and taking about the next chapter of her life having Lumine in it.

I thought this one has particularly cute. Furina would make macaroni for Lumine.

This one is a favourite

Lumine only needs her.

Now on to the teapot, there is a very cute scene where Furina talks about teaching Lumine to dance;

Another where Furina talks about them doing acting together and writing a script.

And that's all I can find! Like I said, I probably missed some stuff, but I think I'll call it quits here. I hope I was able to get the info you needed, but if not you can ask my specific questions if need be.

Also I'd love to the list when you are done!!!

[blujayonthewing]

SUPREMELY frustrating that we found something actually really cool and intriguing and plot relevant in tonight's session but I'm still so constantly preoccupied with whether the DM is going to 100% kill us with sheer poor game design that I barely have enough brainspace left over to even enjoy it

[borkwolf]

Hi! Could you maybe draw Dreamcatcher please and thank you?

Art by otiksimr and teethwitheyes101-blog

sparkly dragon :]

[lionbearfox]

good luck to everyone pulling and may all nahida and nilou wanters be nahida and nilou havers!

[hexcitrine]

randomly looked at this account to update my age and holy shit it's been a while since i posted here..........i have a small pile of art i have yet to post but hbhbshdbshbd too lazy

[thetangibleghost]

I gotta confess it is so much more fun talking to Sal as if he is a separate person like he wants and not a member of the system. He's super creative like. Its just fun.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[phagodyke]

went to the gym in the end it was so much fuuuunnnn woohooo :D

[tardis--dreams]

I wish i could get buproprion without a prescription this shit is way too good to give up ㅠㅠ