#and i'll probably put some references here and there but

[sansxfuckyou]

nowhere to hide out in the open

summary: the one good thing about these 'Genre Peace' meetings, it would be that Delta Dawn has an excuse to be next to Queen Essence

warnings: its just fluff

authors note: EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO @ohposhers FOR DRAGGING ME OUT OF RETIREMENT BY MAKING DELTESSENCE REAL INSTEAD OF LETTING IT ROT IN OUR DM'S FROM MARCH, LITERALLY DRAGGED THIS FIC OUT FROM THE BACK AND FINISHED IT UP IN 2 HOURS NOT EVEN. anyways hope ya'll enjoy and if ya do consider dropping a reblog or checkin' the Ao3 port

To be frank, Delta Dawn didn't necessarily enjoy the fact that the genre leaders had to meet up in Funk's spaceship of sorts; they called it Vibe City. The deck may have been solid beneath her hooves and the air perfectly metered in temperature, but it still felt wrong. Just something made her feel off about living up here, especially when they used to inhabit the deserts and oasis's below.

The only plus was the fact that she was allowed a seat next to Queen Essence, Funk's co-ruler. Pale blue fur and glistening silver tinsel littered across her form and like necklaces on her neck. A spattering of glitter on her face and golden adornments in her hair, voice a gentle timbre and comfy pace-

Delta Dawn definitely enjoyed her, and the fact that she was married with children.

"Now, Queen Poppy, are you sure we really need to unite geographically as well?" Trollzart asked, and the annoying sound of his voice snapped Delta out of it. He sounded like a 'woodwind,' as the Classical's called those instruments.

"Yeah, Popseed, I quite like Volcano Rock City. The Rocker's need some heat to keep us going," Barb tacked on, voice sharp as always with a blunt edge that Delta respected. Even if the gal tried to destroy all music, she had good work ethic.

Poppy gave a nervous laugh, "Well we could at least try making a place where the cross-genre's and genrefluid Trolls could exist in peace?"

"A utopia," King Quincy supplies.

"A Trollstopia, if you will," Queen Essence adds on.

"The only problem with that is the Techno's, they can't be out of water for prolonged periods of time," Branch said. He was already splaying out blueprints, "I'll work on a fix."

"I can help manufacture it," Trollex said and his voice also had an annoying sting too it out of water, oddly synthetic but natural to their speciation.

"Dawn," Queen Essence said, and it took Delta a moment to realize she was referring to her.

The sheriff of Country nodded, "Yes, miss Essence?" Country sensibilities sneaking into her speech again, she really hopes that isn't an offence in Funk.

Instead it makes Queen Essence smile, "Do you have any objections to this Trollstopia?" There's a softness to her tone, a calm that Delta doesn't know too well. Everyone's much gruffer in Country, more to the point and strict about it. Working together is loving each other and tussling in a rodeo is a love language.

Funk Trolls are so... Different, in a refreshing way of course. It's confusing too, Delta never took herself for a romantic, but the Queen is doing something to her. And it's just how she exists too, even when they aren't interacting she's just like this. Smooth and calm and with an amount of allure that Delta is sure must be practiced in advance.

"I got no objections to it, I think it's a great idea," Delta said before standing up and pushing aside the cushion she sat upon. At the slightest hint of Poppy going to speak up, she waved it off, "I'm fine, Queen Poppy, I just need to stretch my legs, get some water."

Her hooves clicked uncomfortably against the metal-adjacent platforms below her. She rubbed her temples as she walked, taking long, deep breaths to try and compose herself. How on earth do they expect her to keep it together when they put her beside Queen Essence? She shouldn't be getting this worked up over a married Troll.

"Dawn, you're probably gonna need some help finding the vending machines," Came a gentle voice from behind her and all she could do was freeze up.

"Naw, I'll be fine, Queen Essence," Delta said, turning to give her an affirming smile. It looked kind of forced.

"Please, just call me Essence," She said before leading Delta along and the sheriff followed without questioning her own actions despite her previous defiance.

Delta gives a huffing sort of sound, it earns her a perplexed look before she remembers that the Funk Trolls don't have that in their lexicon, "Then I have ta ask that you call me Delta."

Essence gives a long hum as she pads down the halls, her paws are near silent against the flooring. A stark contrast to the clip-clop of Delta's hooves, "I'll see what I can do for you."

The slight teasing lilt coupled with a small chuckle has Delta going mad. She trots up closer to the queen of Funk and follows her obediently down the halls. The swirled design of Funk architecture matches the consistent beat thrumming below them in the main corridors. It pulses with a faint glow, so subtle it's almost unnoticable unless you really look close- and Delta needs something to stare at that isn't her guide.

When they come to a stop Essence grabs her a bottle of water, gifted in return for a small melody in a genre Delta doesn't know well. It's interesting technology really, maybe Country is outdated after all. Then she remembers that Pop still lives in the woods and hasn't rebuilt after they had their empire swept out from under their feet by the Bergens. Her genre isn't too far behind, and Funk is highly advanced anyways.

"So, Delta, what's got you down?" Essence asked, dropping down to sit with folded legs on a cushion. Delta followed suit, a low table between them, and she didn't quite sit the same way Funk Trolls did but she made it happen.

"Nothin's got me down," Delta said, twisting the cap off the bottle, "Don't know what gave you that idea."

Essence's brows furrowed, but she didn't narrow her gaze much. She just sighed, "I can't be offended that you don't want to tell me, but I can be offended that you think I can't see what's right in front of me."

That shakes Delta down to her core, she didn't expect Essence to have such keen observations as well. She nearly chokes on her water which has a tang too it, a hint of citrus flavouring perhaps? She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, "I suppose I shouldn't treat ya like an idiot cause you're different than me."

"Some signs are universal," Essence said, "And your vibes aren't exactly feeling on point."

Delta gives a low laugh, "You have a point there, Queen Essence. You're mighty smart, mighty tenacious for waiting so long for your son to show up."

Essence smiles a smile that's so warm it contradicts the soothing frosted hue of her form. She tilts her head a bit as she smiles, a small laugh arising and she brings a paw to hide it. "I'm flattered, Dawn."

"Essence, you seem like the loving type," Delta begins, "Happily married and whatnot."

"So it's a romance problem you have."

She nods, "Yeah, that. What would you say is the best action for loving someone whose already set for life?"

That gives Essence pause, and she's more than clever enough to piece it together right then and there, but she still takes a moment. "In Funk we're usually pretty open, most relations are fluid and shifting states frequently."

"They are?" Delta asked a bit too fast.

"Of course they are, Delta. Are they not in other genres?" Essence asked, a genuine curiosity lacing her voice.

Delta shakes her head, "We're rather monogamous in Country."

"Tell me, Delta," Essence begins, a type of smile on her face that makes Delta shiver. Essence leans a little bit closer, "Is it me?"

"What gave it away, your majesty?" Delta asked.

"Country Trolls are very up front, it translates to the way you act," Essence explained before pressing a kiss to Delta's cheek. It left a silvery, snowy mark in its wake and Delta was too stunned to move. It made Essence giggle a bit.

"But, but you're royalty!" Delta managed to get out, "Doesn't royalty have ta keep a closed relationship?"

Essence shrugged and the tinsel shifted and coat the technicolor glow of Vibe City. "Quincy is understanding, I doubt he'd mind if we let you in for a bit."

"Well alright then." She's not in a cohesive enough mindset to get anything else out of her mouth. She's wearing this dumb grin on her face that's quick to fall.

Essence brings a paw to Delta's face, "What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothin' that needs to be worried about now," Delta brings her hand to rest on Essence's wrist, or ankle maybe? Delta isn't too sure of the proper terminology to use.

"You got your legs stretched out enough to head back, Dawn? They can't make much progress without Country," Essence asked.

"I'm ready," Delta said before standing up, she traced a digit across the lipstick mark on her cheek, "Say, won't this be incriminating evidence?"

"Quincy won't mind," Essence assured with a hum.

"The others?"

"They're in our home, we can evict them."

[dyesprout0ysphoria]

Name the silliest person you know, old sport

Uhhhhhhhh

Wellll uhhh

Hm

There's

a lot of people that fit that role

@/theokusgallery and @/tosteur-gluteal, for example

but also

@/basilmiko, @/smiles-tm, @/starya-knight, @/yfnkar, etc, etc

too many people who are silly

[dis--parity]

『🔧』 "... we got this manga in stock recently, I- I can't remember the exact title, but it's, like... it's about this girl who's a complete loser, cringe, fail girl, but- but all the hot men dote on her and she doesn't have any idea why."

"Kinda reminds me of someone I know!"

[186-3]

courting antisemitism

so i recently decided to take a look at the latest stonetoss comics (probably because i love suffering). and while i was expecting some content on the israel palestine conflict, what i did not expect was how... standard it seemed. well, most of it at least, but i'll get to that in a second.

for context, if you don't know what stonetoss is, it's a (poorly drawn) webcomic known for having radical alt-right views - meaning it's incredibly racist, homophobic, transphobic, islamophobic, antisemitic. all that fun stuff.

so while i was expecting to see bad stuff, one of the first things i saw on the topic of israel was this:

terrible art aside, this comic is making a point that i usually see in left wing circles: that israel is pinkwashing genocide.

curious if there was more like this, i kept looking, and the comic right before that one was this:

again, this makes points that i usually see in left wing circles. that american healthcare is crazy expensive, that canada tells poor people to commit suicide, and that israel is bombing hospitals.

why does stonetoss, this well known alt-right nutjob, now seem to be bringing up left-wing talking points?

curious, i kept going deeper:

well this is... odd. clearly, stonetoss is trying to say that israel is on another level of bad, even worse than russia, iran, and north korea. i can possibly see someone on the left making the argument that the russian invasion of ukraine isn't as bad as what israel is doing in gaza, or that at least north korea isn't invading any other countries, but... iran??? the country that has a police force designed to enforce religious law, and gets away with murdering women who do not properly cover their hair? the country that props up paramilitary groups in countries all over the middle east, including lebanon, yemen, and yes, palestine?? that's completely ridiculous

but, given how much more israel is in the news nowadays than any of these other countries, i could see why someone would buy this

and now, we're starting to get to the crux of what stonetoss is trying to do. when someone sees this, they might be inclined to agree with it. they might begin to think that israel is the worst country on the planet

and that might not seem so bad at first. but the more you hate israel, especially irrationally, the more you feel allowed to dehumanize those who support it. the more you might be willing to agree with this comic, which came out two days prior to the one above

this comic says that jews, as a whole have no desire to exist with other people. it is blatantly antisemitic

i'm sure you could imagine some young leftist who sees the comics above this one and thinks, "this guy makes some good points". and then, when they get to this one, they might realize that this is antisemitism

or, they may not.

and that would start them down the road to becoming an antisemite.

this is what stonetoss and other alt-right nutjobs are hoping to achieve. to take left wing fury at israel, and direct it at jews.

we saw it with those neo-nazis at the palestine rally, and we're seeing it again here.

and if you've found yourself agreeing with what stonetoss has said so far, i would like you to see the last comic stonetoss put out before october 7th:

this horrifically racist comic is in reference to an environmental activist who was murdered by a black man in early october. this blatantly racist garbage is the kind of stuff stonetoss usually puts out.

but as soon as october 7th happened? these were his next two comics:

stonetoss completely changed the comic's tone as soon as the current crisis started. why?

to get as many people as possible to get on board with hating jews.

and i know many of you might be thinking that "well, everyone knows that stonetoss is racist garbage. nobody is going to fall for this"

except, as we saw with the neo-nazis at the rally for palestine, it's not always that obvious who the antisemites are and who is just rallying for peace. they are often a lot better at disguising it than stonetoss is.

AND EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE AWARE OF THAT

EVERYONE, no matter HOW much experience you have, can fall victim to propoganda. EVERYONE needs to be aware of what people around them are saying, and able to pick out hateful rhetoric, because even the stuff that is just kind of toeing the line of what's hateful is still putting your foot in the door

be cautious, everyone. and stomp out hate where you see it.

[maniculum]

Medieval Scorpions Effortpost

So yesterday I reblogged this post featuring an 11th-century depiction of the Apocalypse Locusts from Revelations, noting the following incongruity as another medieval scorpion issue:

The artist, as you can see, has interpreted "tails like scorpions" as meaning "glue cheerful-looking snakes to their butts".

Anyway, it occurred to me that the medieval scorpion thing might not be as widely known as I think it is, and that Tumblr would probably enjoy knowing about it if it isn't known already. So, finding myself unable to focus on the research I'm supposed to be doing, I decided to write about this instead. I'll just go ahead and put a cut here.

As we can see in the image above, at least one artist out there thought a "scorpion" was a type of snake. Which makes it difficult to draw "tails like scorpions", because a snake's tail is not that distinctive or menacing (maybe rattlesnakes, but they don't have those outside the Americas). So they interpreted "tails like scorpions" as "the tail looks like a whole snake complete with head".

Let me tell you. This is not a problem unique to this illustration.

See, people throughout medieval Europe were aware of scorpions. As just alluded to, they are mentioned in the Bible, and if the people producing manuscripts in medieval Europe knew one thing, it was Stuff In Bible. They're also in the Zodiac, which medieval Europe had inherited through classical sources. However, let's take a look at this map:

That's Wikipedia's map of the native range of the Scorpiones order, i.e., all scorpion species. You may notice something -- the range just stops at a certain northern latitude. Pretty much all of northern Europe is scorpion-free. If you lived in the north half of Europe, odds were good you had never seen a scorpion in your life. But if you were literate or educated at all, or you knew they were a thing, because you'd almost certainly run across them being mentioned in texts from farther south. And those texts wouldn't bother to explain what a scorpion was, of course -- everyone knows scorpions, right? When was the last time you stopped to explain What Is Spiders?

So medieval writers and artists in northern Europe were kind of stuck. There was all this scorpion imagery and metaphor in the texts they liked to work from, but they didn't really know what a scorpion was. Writers could kind of work around it (there's a lot of "oh, it's a venomous creature, moving on"), but sometimes they felt the need to break it down better. For this, of course, they'd have to refer to a bestiary -- but due to Bestiary Telephone and the persistent need of bestiary authors to turn animals into allegories, one of the only visual details you got on scorpions was that they... had a beautiful face, which they used to distract people in order to sting them.

And look. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but I would say that a scorpion's face has significant aesthetic appeal only for a fairly small segment of the population. I'm sure you could get an entomologist to rhapsodize about it a bit, but your average person on the street will not be entranced by the face of a scorpion. So this did not help the medieval Europeans in figuring out how to depict scorpions. There was also some semantic confusion -- see, in some languages (such as Old and Middle English), "worm" could be a general term for very small animals of any kind. But it also could mean "serpent".* So there were some, like our artist at the top of the post, who were pretty sure a scorpion was a snake. This was probably helped along by the fact that "venomous" was one of the only things everyone knew about them, and hey, snakes are venomous. Also, Pliny the Elder had floated the idea that there were scorpions in Africa that could fly, and at least one author (13th-century monk Bartholomaeus Anglicus) therefore suggested that they had feathers. I don't see that last one coming up much, I just share it because it's funny to me.

*English eventually resolved this by borrowing the Latin vermin for very small animals, using the specialized spelling wyrm for big impressive mythical-type serpents, and sticking with the more specific snake for normal serpents.

Some authors, like the anonymous author of the Ancrene Wisse, therefore suggested that a scorpion was a snake with a woman's face and a stinging tail. (Everyone seemed to be on the same page with regards to the fact that the sting was in the tail, which is in fact probably the most recognizable aspect of scorpions, so good job there.) However, while authors could avoid this problem, visual artists could not. And if you were illustrating a bestiary or a calendar, including a scorpion was not optional. So they had to take a shot at what this thing looked like.

And so, after this way-too-long explanation, the thing you're probably here for: inaccurate medieval drawings of scorpions. (There are of course accurate medieval drawings of scorpions, from artists who lived in the southern part of Europe and/or visited places where scorpions lived; I'm just not showing you those.) And if you find yourself wondering, "how sure are you that that's meant to be a scorpion?" -- all of these are either from bestiaries or from calendars that include zodiac illustrations.

11th-century England, MS Arundel 60. (Be honest, without the rest of this post, if I had asked you to guess what animal this was supposed to be, would you have ever guessed “scorpion”?)

12th-century Germany, "Psalter of Henry the Lion". (Looks a bit undercooked. Kind of fetal.)

12th-century France, Peter Lombard's Sententiae. (Very colorful, itsy bitsy claws, what is happening with that tail?)

12th-century England, "The Shaftesbury Psalter". (So a scorpion is some sort of wyvern with a face like a duck, correct?)

13th-century France, Thomas de Cantimpré's Liber de natura rerum. (I’d give them credit for the silhouette not being that far off, but there’s a certain bestiary style where all the animals kind of look like that. Also note how few of these have claws.)

13th-century England, "The Bodley Bestiary". (Mischievous flying squirrel impales local man’s hand, local man fails to notice.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (A scorpion is definitely either a mouse or a fish. Either way it has six legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Wait, no, it’s a baby theropod, and it has two legs. (Yes, this is the same manuscript, that’s not an error, this artist did four scorpions and no two are the same.))

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Actually it’s a lizard with tiny ears and it has four legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Now that we’re at the big fancy illustration, I think I’ve got it — it’s like that last one, but two legs, longer ears, and a less goofy face. Also I’ve decided it’s not pink anymore, I think that was the main problem.)

13th-century England, MS Kk.4.25. (A scorpion is a flat crocodile with a bear’s head.)

13th-century England, "The Huth Psalter". (Wyvern but baby! Does not seem to be enjoying biting its own tail.)

13th-century England, MS Royal 1 D X. (This triangular-headed gentlecreature gets the award for “closest guess at correct limb configuration”. If two of those were claws, I might actually believe this artist had seen a scorpion before, or at least a picture of one.)

13th-century England, "The Westminster Psalter". (A scorpion is the offspring of a wyvern and a fawn.)

13th-century England, "The Rutland Psalter". (Too many legs! Pull back! Pull back!)

13th or 14th-century France, Bestiaire d'amour rimé. (This is very similar to the fawn-wyvern, but putting it in an actual Scene makes it even more obvious that you’re just guessing.)

14th-century Netherlands, Jacob van Maerlant's Der Naturen Bloeme. (More top-down six-legged guys that look too furry to be arthropods.)

14th-century Germany, MS Additional 22413. (That is clearly a turtle.)

14th-century France, Matfres Eymengau de Beziers's Breviari d'amor. (Who came up with that head shape and what was their deal?)

15th-century England, "Bestiary of Ann Walsh". (Screw it, a scorpion is a big lizard that glares at you for trying to make me draw things I don’t know about.)

I've spent way too much time on this now. End of post, thank you to anyone who got all the way down here.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓

Eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: not much of a plot here. You go to Eddie for some of that marriage iguana.

Warnings:smut, slight choking, some praising. Mention of drugs (weed), no use of y/n, Eddie refers to the reader as baby, good girl, and sweetheart.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: Not proofread. I don't know where this came from. I got bored and was desperate to write a little smut.

18+ minors dni

You were only supposed to be going to your neighbor for some weed. That's it. That's all you need. No sex this time around you repeated to yourself. You just needed a little bit to help get you through through the rest of the week.

Work had been hell for you. On top of just life being difficult in general. you needed something to help ease your nerves. Eddie hated random visits. Except when it came to you. His "favorite" he'd call you. No matter what you knew you could count on him for just about anything.

You knocked pretty hard on his front door. Three fast knocks followed and then nothing. He didn't come to the door. You waited and waited. Still no answer. When it was obvious Eddie wasn't going to answer the door your let yourself in. You knew he was home. His van was parked right there next to an old broken TV.

He didn't care if you just walked in. Matter, of fact, he even offered to give you a key once. You eased your way through the front door and made your way over to his bedroom. A room you've become very familiar with over these last few months. You saw him lounging back with a guitar over his lap. He was strumming away lazily on the cords.

Eddie heard you walking through the kitchen to the back slowly over to him. You don't know how he heard you over his playing.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer. What will it be today? Weed or my dick?". He half joked, putting his guitar down next to him.

His humor could be mistaken for arrogance by anyone who didn't know him.

You crossed your arms over your chest." Just the weed this time, smart ass."

"Fine, I'll only be a sweet ass." His remarked sarcastically. Eddie made a face and raised his hands up in surrender.

At this point, you don't know what your relationship is with him. You definitely didn't want it to end, though. You did enjoy the friendly back and forth banter. Even if you acted annoyed, you really weren't. The sex was great, too. That was something else you didn't want to end either.

Eddie grabbed the little baggy off his vanity. He knew what you liked and how many ounces you bought from him. He walked over to you, dangling the weed in front of your face.

"Ya sure?" He raised an eyebrow at you. He tossed the bag in your hands. You knew what he was getting at. You knew what he was hinting at.

"Ya sure?" You repeated in your mind.

"I'm sure." You hesitantly spoke. You and him stared at each other for a couple of minutes. Only to you, it felt like hours. You were lying, and he could tell.

Now you find yourself naked in his bed yet again. your legs were spread wide open. His body pressed on top of yours. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. You did this every time you went to him for something. You never just left with whatever you came by for.

Eddie had his hand around your throat. He stops teasing your clit and drags the head of cock to your opening. He slowly pushed himself in to your dripping cunt. Once he was completely inside of you. He stills for just a few moments so you can get used to the stretch. Eddie let out a long, deep moan, sighing with pleasure feeling your walls hugging around his cock. All it took was one wrong move and he would cum immediately.

"Ooh god!" Your voice croaked. His windows were wide open in his trailer. Anyone outside could probably hear you.

"Better be quiet baby don't want the neighbors to know what we're getting up to in here." Eddie warned. He didn't care who could hear. But he loved to mess with you.

You pout but nodded. "I'll try to be quiet." You didn't care who could hear you anymore.

"Mmm, you're such a good girl." Eddie purrs in your ear, causing you to whine. He pulls back and slams into you harder.

Your body jolts forward, and the grip he has on your throat tightens. You wrap your legs tight around his lower back, helping him go deeper inside you. You were moaning so loud calling out his name.

He licks the shell of your ear. "You feel so good, baby." His voice is low and husky, sending a shiver up your spine. "So fking wet and tight-"

"Eddie, please!" You begged.

He makes a mocking pout. "Please, what?" His eyebrows raised slightly.

"Pleeeease," you beg him again over and over.

"Be a good girl and tell me what you want. You know I have no problem giving you what you need." Eddie smirked, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip.

You're trying to find your words. His drags his cock almost all the way out of your cunt leaving only his tip. Your head feels like it's spinning. Your face is getting hot, and your body is covered in sweat. He was breathing heavier and grunting louder.

"F-faster- I need you to fuck me faster." You continued to beg. Eddie was leaving wet kisses all down your chest with his hand still holding your throat. His other hand moved to squeeze your hip.

"That's my girl." He praises and drives his cock back inside your aching cunt. He lets go of your neck to caress your cheek.

You leaned into his hand as his pace quickened. The springs in his bed squeak with every thrust of his cock. Your eyes squeezed shut. Your moans sound almost desperate as he pumps cock inside you. Your walls clenching around him. Earning you low groan from his soft lips.

you can't speak or barely think. You're trying so hard to say anything at all. You couldn't even mutter a thank you. You can’t even remember why you went over to his place to begin with. Was it for weed? Did another pipe bust in your bathroom? You dont know, and you dont care.

"I," you paused, licking your lips, "i- shit..." You fumbled over your words. No one has ever made you feel like this before. Your walls were pulsating around him. He was hitting your g-spot just right with every hard thrust.

Eddie has you so cock drunk you can't form a cohesive thought. He formed a sly smirk on his face when he saw you struggle to speak. He noticed you were getting frustrated with yourself.

"Mmmfph! Ed-" your body was writhing underneath his. Your was hung open. Your eyes were all glassy. Your whiny moans were deafening almost.

The loud schlick sound his cock made when he plunged it in your tight cunt. Your walls pulsating around him. You could feel every inch of him.

Eddie shook his head again and laughed to himself. He kept hearing you stammering over your words. He felt a little bad. Just a little. But he loved watching you get this way. It was such an ego boost for him.

So he decided to speak for you. He already has an idea of what you were trying to say. Your nails were digging into his back. You knew you probably were drawing some blood from him. They were practically embedded into his skin.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." Eddie cooed, griping both of your hips now. "M'gonna take real good care of you."

[allur1ngs]

✮ succumb (to me) ✮

TW: small angst to fluff, smut (dom & top!bada, sub & bottom !reader, kinda rough & angry sex, strap usage–r!receiving, oral–r!receiving, reader sucks on bada’s strap bcs i say so, teasing, strap referred to as a cock, bada is the giver in this scenario, doesn’t rlly receive, sorry…) + aftercare, delulu bada, once again LOTS of protective!bada, cold!bada, frustrated!bada, jealous!bada, petty!bada, bada having SERIOUS beef w your bodyguard, lusher being an instigator, reader being oblivious once again but its okay because we love her, jealous!reader, hyo being stuck in the middle of it all… justice for her fr, ngl the descriptions in this one are more spicy so… beware ? allusions to homophobia if you squint, the picture to the farthest right is purely for aesthetics and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!! and a surprise character that you may know~

SUMMARY: jealousy is man’s most evil, and easiest sin to yield to. bada struggles to keep herself from falling into its clutches, and succumbing to her greatest temptation, you.

WC: 14.5k… i promised myself this one would be shorter but i’m weak

A/N: find more information about this au on my masterlist! once again, i’m sure there are MANY mistakes throughout this fic, so please ignore them as best as you can--i'll edit this asap. also this isn't the first kiss or first i love you, consider this fic as a "what if" like slightly canon divergent. i want to make a separate fic about the official first kiss and first i love you!!

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada, team bebe, or anyone else’s actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

Orange sunlight pours through the black-tinted windows in Bada’s office, casting a warm glow onto words that blur into blots of ink against white paper. Bada's tired eyes squint, attempting to make out the last sentence of the form in front of her. But no matter how hard she glares and huffs, the blots don’t unify into words.

“Ugh,” she groans, pushing away the form out of frustration. “I need a break.”

“You think so?” Lusher pops up behind the office door, having quietly opened it while Bada was focused on her paperwork.

“Yes, Lusher, I need a break,” Bada pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing out of her nose. “But I have a feeling I won’t be able to, now that you’re here.”

“Those are some harsh words for someone who brought you a gift,” Lusher says cheekily. She approaches Bada, opening her once-closed fist to reveal a pair of black-framed glasses. “Tada!”

Bada lets out a breath, muttering a thank you before grabbing her glasses and putting them on. Immediately, she feels the world come into focus, and the words on the form she pushed away are now crisp and uniform. “Much better.”

“What would you do without me?” Lusher jokes.

“I’d probably be much more productive.” Bada takes ahold of her gold-trimmed fountain pen and sets another stack of papers in front of her.

“What happened to taking a break?” Lusher pouts. “You’re going to go blind if you continue to push your eyes this much.”

“Well, thanks to you, I have my glasses, so I won’t go blind,” Bada says without looking up from the paper she’s signing.

“That’s not how it works,” Lusher huffs.

Bada stops writing, placing her fountain pen down and lifting her gaze up to stare at Lusher dead in the eyes. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.” Lusher plops down on the couch in the corner of the room. “We never get to talk like friends anymore.”

“I’m busy,” Bada says gruffly.

“You’re always busy,” Lusher complains. Bada doesn’t respond, instead, she picks up her pen again and starts reading the paper in front of her. “Fine,” Lusher folds her arms across her chest, “I’ll just talk aloud.”

Again, Bada ignores her subordinate, shuffling to the next paper and beginning to scan the words.

Lusher takes no offense, already used to her friend’s cold and serious behavior; in fact, it’s something she admires in her. And, she also knows that despite how her boss outwardly acts, Bada does care about her and listens to what she has to say.

“Minah and I took care of that job yesterday.” She comments, her eyes moving to the tinted window in Bada’s office. “It was very easy. U-Ram is getting sloppy.” Lusher waits to see if Bada will respond, but she doesn’t, so the second-in-command continues. “His branch of Seoul should be easy to take over. And if he doesn’t want to give it up, Tatter, Minah, and I can visit him.”

Silence fills the room, making Lusher pout again. She wants to get at least some sort of reaction out of Bada, but she remains steadfast in focusing on her work. Lusher thinks to herself, for a moment, wondering what else she could bring up to her boss that might spark up some form of conversation.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in her mind, making her eyes light up and her lips curve upward in a mischievous smile. There’s one thing she can use. One thing–or more like one person–that always breaks through Bada’s icy attitude.

“So, how have things between you and unnie been going?” Lusher asks innocently.

Bada’s writing pauses, “We’re doing fine.” She mumbles before continuing to scribble furiously.

Bingo, Lusher thinks, trying to hide how her smile grows. “That’s good, I’m glad. I was worried after the incident with Seong, your relationship would be on the rocks. But it seems like it brought you two closer together.”

Bada keeps her eyes fixed on the document below her, “Yes. Our friendship has become much stronger.”

“Friendship.” Lusher snorts.

“What’s so funny?” Bada cuts in, tone hard.

“You and unnie aren’t friends.”

“We are.” Bada insists. “I enjoy her company, and she enjoys my company. We’re friends.”

“Bada, you and unnie have done everything in a traditional relationship other than have sex.” Lusher deadpans.

Bada’s hand fumbles with her fountain pen out of shock, her eyes snapping up to meet Lusher’s figure casually lounging on the couch. “Lee Seoyoung,” She says firmly. “remember your place, and don’t speak about my fiancée in such a way.”

“I don’t mean it in an offensive way.” Lusher shrugs, not affected by Bada using her full name. “I’m just pointing out that you two aren’t friends. Or if you are, you’re incredibly touchy friends.”

Bada scoffs, removing her gaze from Lusher. “We’re just friends. End of story.”

“If you say so,” Lusher concedes, resting her head against the headrest of the couch. “But now that I think about it, I wonder how unnie keeps herself satisfied.”

Bada looks up once again, her expression showing clear confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Lusher smirks to herself, sitting up. “Well, unnie’s been with you for about two and a half months now, right? Don’t you think she’d begin to feel…” she trails off, trying to find a less brash way of expressing her thoughts. “lonely for companionship? For some… skinship?”

Bada’s eyes widen only a fraction, the wheels in her mind slowly turning. “I greet her in the morning with hugs and a peck on the cheek.”

“Boss, you have to realize that not all of us are as composed and able to be abstinent for long periods of time like you are.”

“What are you implying?” Bada says incredulously. “That she’s–” she cuts herself off, becoming physically sick at the thought of someone else touching you, caressing you, giving you pleasure, and seeing you in ways she hasn’t.

“I’m not implying anything.” Lusher holds her hands up in defense.

Bada glares at Lusher, countless thoughts running through her mind as her heart races in her chest. “And if she were to be… engaging in such activities, who do you think she’d find company in?”

Lusher looks up, thinking deeply and seriously about Bada’s question. “I would have to say… Hyo. They’ve become quite close.” She answers honestly. “But don’t take this too seriously, Boss. Unnie isn’t that type of woman.”

But it’s much too late. Internally, Bada’s already beginning to spiral, remembering every interaction between you and Hyo she’s witnessed. There’s no way you’re interested in her… right? She may follow you around every minute of every day, but that’s not enough to make you fall in love with her, right? It’s not enough to make you yearn for her touch while Bada remains shut in her office, reviewing documents and signing papers…

“Bada…” Lusher trails off, noticing how her friend’s eyes become cloudy in thought. “I’m serious, don’t read too much into it. I was just joking around.”

“I’m not reading into it,” Bada responds after a beat. “My fiancée is her own woman, and what she does in her free time is none of my business. As long as she’s safe and happy, I’m content.”

Lusher frowns deeply, shaking her head. “But—”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m fine.” Bada holds up a hand to stop Lusher from continuing. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish this pile of papers before nightfall.”

Lusher looks between Bada and her work, unsure if she’s convinced that her friend wasn’t overthinking her joking comment. Eventually, she decides not to disturb Bada anymore, taking her leave and remaining oblivious to the chain of events she would unwittingly cause.

Like an unrelenting plague, Lusher’s words echo in Bada’s mind for the rest of the day, night, and the next day that follows. She tries to stay on task and finish her paperwork, but no matter how hard she tries, her mind will play cruel tricks on her, showing her images of your sweaty body sliding against Hyo’s, a smirk painted across her face as she services you with unrivaled pleasure.

Bada bangs her fist against her desk, dragging her chair back violently as she groans, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. If she can’t focus on her work, she might as well see what you’re up to and maybe spend some time with you. Not because she wants to observe your interactions with Hyo—no, not at all. She misses you, is all. In a friendly way, of course.

Leaving her office looking tired and disgruntled, Bada bumps into Soweon in her search for you. She asks her youngest subordinate if she knows where you are, to which she says yes, pointing in the direction of the terrace where the infinity pool lies. Bada says a quick thank you before fast walking in your direction, a prickle of nervousness building in her stomach, something she isn’t used to.

Stepping onto the terrace, Bada’s right hand busies itself by loosening her tie, noticing how tight it suddenly felt when her eyes find a sight that makes the nervousness in her stomach wash away, and instead, be replaced by a burning heat.

Your lower half is submerged in water while your upper half is arched into the warm afternoon air, water droplets falling from your throat and dipping down between your breasts as you hoist yourself out of the pool. In front of you, Hyo is holding out a white towel with one hand and grabbing onto yours in the other, helping you out of the pool.

There’s nothing particularly abnormal or intimate about the interaction, but it’s your bathing suit that makes Bada’s breath hitch, and the simmering fire burning within her spread. It’s a black ensemble, elegant, and compliments your figure to implausible lengths, that Bada wonders if it was handmade to make you look as divine as possible.

But your beautiful visage is overridden by Lusher’s words once again ringing in her mind.

Bada’s legs move before she can even think, rushing her over to where Hyo’s holding out the towel for you. She grabs it from her without a second thought, standing directly in front of her and taking your hand in hers, so Hyo’s unable to see you fully emerge from the pool.

“Bada?” You say, your eyes lighting up at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I decided to take a break.” She lies through her teeth, briefly checking behind her to see Hyo giving her a slightly confused look before she steps back, allowing her boss to take care of you instead. “Here,” Bada mumbles, wrapping the warm towel around your figure with haste and pulling you into her side.

The action makes butterflies flutter in your belly, and a shy smile overtake your lips. “Thank you.” You say softly, taking the chance to discreetly snuggle into Bada’s warmth.

“You’re welcome.” Bada nods, glancing at Hyo from the corner of her eye every few seconds. “So, is this where you’ve been all day?”

“Mostly,” you admit. “I haven’t swum much recently, and the sun was warm today, so I thought I’d cool off a bit in the water.”

“I see.” Bada nods. “And your bathing suit…” she trails off.

“What? Do you like it?” You ask innocently, unraveling the towel to give her another look at the piece.

Bada's eyes widen as she quickly wraps you in the towel again, feeling her body warm at the sight of yours. "Yes, yes, it looks very good on you," she hurries out. "But isn't it a little... inappropriate for Hyo to see you like this?"

"What do you mean?" You give Bada a confused look. "She sees me like this all the time."

Bada struggles to keep her composure as her thoughts start to race, and her hands instinctively curl into fists. "She does?"

"Yeah, I go swimming pretty often," you say casually, starting to walk toward the terrace exit. Bada follows, keeping you tucked into her side, and sending glares Hyo's way. You glance at your fiancée, noticing the black frames on her nose. "You're wearing your glasses again." Reaching up, you gently touch the side of them.

"Oh, yes," she mumbles. "I forgot I had them on."

"Bada, you need to stop pushing yourself so much." You pout.

Your fiancée smiles lightly, "You know, Lusher said the same thing."

"Because we're right." You insist. "You're lucky you don't have to wear those glasses every day."

"I won't let it get that bad."

You give her an unconvinced look, crossing your arms. "I'm holding you to that, you know."

"Oh?" Bada smirks. "And what will you do if I slip up?"

"I'll start visiting you every other hour to bother you until you take a break." You say playfully.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Bada banters back.

"Hmm, I don't know, I think you'd enjoy it." You mimic a thoughtful expression, making Bada laugh.

"I'd more than enjoy it." She admits, disguising her sincerity with a joking tone.

Slowing your pace, you find the door to your bedroom right ahead, which surprises you. You must have been so enraptured in your conversation with Bada that you didn't realize your legs were taking you back to your bedroom out of instinct.

Parting from Bada reluctantly, you stare at her with glittering eyes as you shift on your feet. "Thank you for coming to see me. I like spending time with you, even if it's only for a little."

Bada swears you’re trying to kill her, because why are you so sweet and lovely? All her life, Bada's dealt with ruthless businessmen, deceitful allies, and those who used her for personal gain. But you... you get genuine satisfaction out of simply seeing her. And she can't deny that she feels the same way.

"You're welcome," Bada says softly, rubbing her hand up and down your arm out of instinct. She doesn't realize the effect her touch has on you, but she sees the way you smile down at the floor. "You can visit me anytime, by the way. I wasn't lying before when I said I would enjoy you coming to see me." She admits brazenly.

"Okay then, I will." A brief pause of silence envelops you two before you turn to look back at your bedroom door. "I'm going to go take a shower. I'll see you later?"

"Of course," Bada nods. She steps forward to open the door for you, watching you head in before closing it behind you with one last small goodbye. She stays still for a moment, staring at the spot where you’d just been, lost in thought. When she finally recollects herself, she pushes her glasses farther up her nose and turns on her feet, about to head in the direction of her office. But upon beginning her stride, she is met with Hyo’s figure standing a few feet away. 

“Have a good afternoon, Boss,” she says calmly.

Bada’s mood plummets in an instant, her expression souring at Hyo’s flippant demeanor. She gives a low hum in response before continuing down the hall toward her office. 

That instance was only the mildest out of three that led up to Bada’s eventual break.

Instance number two occurred while Bada was hard at work. She’d been on a call, about to seal the deal on an important partnership between her and one of the lead car manufacturers in Seoul.

“I’m sure there are ways we can both benefit from this endeavor.” Bada’s voice projects into her work phone.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re correct,” Nam-Su answers on the other line. “But I feel there are some logistical points that still need to be addressed.”

“By all means, ask me anything.” Bada walks around her office, making sure to remain attentive while Nam-Su speaks. If she manages to close this deal, her entire facility will have a steady supply of fortified and modified cars, perfect for jobs.

“Very well, my main issue stems from…” Nam-Su begins to rant, leaving Bada to simply hum in the background while considering his deal. Surprisingly, he had many valid and insightful questions–though she should have expected that from him. Nam-Su was always described as a cunning businessman–when he wasn’t telling jokes in the workplace. Still, Bada manages to reel Nam-Su in with her impeccable rhetoric, and persuasive offers. 

It seems like she’s just about to close the deal when a noise causes her to pause her pacing. She looks up from the floor, squinting with a confused expression to her right, where she thought she heard the noise come from. Her eyes find the window that oversees the large garden right outside her office, locking on the fountain immediately. Assuming that to be the origin of the noise, she turns away, tuning back into her conversation with Nam-Su, who’s now ranting about his breakfast for some reason.

“That’s quite interesting, Mr. Im, but going back to the deal, how often and at what speed are you normally able to create heavily modified cars?”

“Ah yes, usually it takes around–”

The noise cuts in again, making Bada’s head whip toward the window again, this time sure that she heard it. She steps closer to the window, once again squinting in hopes of finding the source. But this time, she does. And she almost wishes she didn’t.

Bada sees you first, twirling into view in a beautiful and elegant sundress, looking like a goddess among the flowers in the garden. You’re laughing boisterously–which Bada realizes was the noise she heard, the sound muffled because of the glass barrier–at something just out of her view. You move to sit on the edge of the fountain, kicking your feet up a bit and revealing the creamy skin of your leg. Bada’s lips curl into a soft smile out of instinct, the sight of you so happy and carefree so pure that she can’t focus on a word Nam-Su is saying.

But just like always, Bada’s never able to fully admire you in peace, because another figure emerges, a black blob disturbing the color and sanctity of the garden. It’s Hyo, of course, dressed in her usual black suit and dark sunglasses. However, one thing stands out to Bada.

Hyo’s smiling.

And not just a simple, small smile, no–she’s smiling widely, borderline laughing with you as she stands in front of you, saying something that makes you give her a cheeky look.

Then she sees it.

Atop Hyo’s head is a ring of baby’s breath flowers woven together to make a crown. And similarly, sitting on yours is a colorful combination of peonies.

Bada's left hand tightens into a fist as she stares at you both, laughing and giggling like schoolgirls with crushes on each other. What was going on between you two? Where did this sudden air of intimacy come from? Has it always been there? Had Bada just been too wrapped up in her work to realize you and Hyo were becoming suspiciously close?

Either way it doesn’t matter, because all Bada can think about is how badly she wants to be standing there in Hyo’s place, admiring you up close, and laughing alongside you without a care in the world. She so badly yearns to be the only one you allow to hear your melodious giggles or share intimate moments with. (So caught up in her own jealousy, Bada doesn’t even realize her thoughts are continuing to stray away from friendship, and farther into romance.)

Bada’s eyes narrow to slits, glaring at Hyo’s every micromovement and scrutinizing it. She briefly considers leaving the office to interrupt, but before she can, she notices you freeze in your spot. A second passes before your eyes meet Hyo’s and become wide. Tiny droplets of water begin to rain down from the sky in steady streams, dotting your dress and deepening its color. You stand up in a hurry, your smile remaining on your lips as you hold your hands above your head, trying to shield yourself from the rain.

Hyo looks up at the sky and says something Bada’s unable to hear, but she sees you motion towards entering the mansion again and feels a wave of relief flood through her body. The world must be on her side. Clearly, it despised the sight of you and Hyo together as well, if the heavy downpour was any indication.

And yet… Hyo takes a step to the side, grabbing something out of Bada’s view before she walks closer to you, revealing an umbrella. Your smile only widens, unheard words falling from your mouth as you sit down on the edge of the fountain again, this time with Hyo sitting next to you. Bada’s eyes switch to cold in an instant, and she bites her lip in frustration. But of course, it seems the universe wants to torture her more, because you start to shiver, the dewy rain on your dress most likely giving you a chill. Because of that you unconsciously lean heavier into Hyo’s side, until you give in and press yourself against her arm, shaking like a leaf.

The simple action makes Bada’s entire body light on fire, a deep-seated jealousy rearing its ugly head as her teeth dig further into her lips, the force so strong that if she didn’t stop, she’d end up breaking the skin of her lip.

In the garden, it seems Hyo has finally noticed your shivering, because she breaks away for a brief moment to tug off her suit jacket before draping it around your shoulders, and bringing you into her side again, nodding when you mutter something to her.

Bada’s hand tightens around her work phone with impossible force, a droplet of blood falling from her lip as she stares at you both through the tinted window of her office while you speak to each other, completely oblivious to Bada’s gaze, or her anger. 

“...Ms. Lee, are you alright?” Nam-Su’s voice breaks through the ringing in Bada’s ear, his tone a mesh between mild worry and genuine confusion at her prolonged silence.

“I’m great, Mr. Im,” she lies through her teeth, the glass screen of her phone cracking under the pressure of her hands.

The last instance, and the one that managed to finally break through Bada’s facade comes the night of Nam-Su’s ball. 

Having successfully sealed the partnership between them despite her distraction, the cheerful man sent Bada an invitation the day after, proposing to throw a celebratory ball. He not only invited her, but Bebe too, and made sure to include a plus one ticket–having heard the rumors of you through the grapevine.

Although Bada doesn’t normally enjoy social events, she realizes it’s an opportunity to spend more intimate time with you, and jumps at the chance. She asks you to go as her plus one, to which you immediately accept.

Now, on the night of the ball, Bada looks at herself in the floor-length mirror in her room. Her eyes run down her figure multiple times, looking closely for any imperfections; wrinkles in her dress shirt, the position of her tie, or a stain on her customized suit. She finds none, but does one last check before leaving her bedroom in search of you.

You–much like Bada had once been–are picking over your appearance nervously while endless thoughts pass through your mind. 

Tonight is a very important milestone in your relationship with Bada. Not only will you be making your public debut as her fiancée, as well as meeting multiple of her allied gangs, but this is also your first time attending a ball with incredibly high-profile socialites from all over South Korea. Disappointing their expectations of you or embarrassing yourself is not an option. Everything must be perfect for both your sake, and Bada’s. 

As if hearing your thoughts, a light rapping against your door alerts you of Bada’s presence. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” You answer hurriedly, gathering your bag and rushing to exit. You step out of your bedroom with a nervous smile, turning to face Bada once you’ve closed the door behind you. 

Upon making eye contact with her, you immediately notice that she’s not in her usual black suit. Instead, she’s wearing an overall–looking suit jacket, one that somehow makes her even more attractive. She’s also wearing a ring on the middle finger of her right hand, as well as another on the knuckle of her thumb, which makes you swoon. Bada Lee is the most attractive woman you’ve ever seen.

While you appraise Bada’s appearance, your fiancée takes the chance to appraise you, but is struck with a bolt of shock at your choice of clothing. A ravishing, floor-length black dress with boning along the top adorns your figure, and pushes up the tops of your smooth breasts, displaying them, while a large slit begins along the side of it. It allows Bada to see the garter that holds up your mesh nylons–she feels herself gulp every moment her eyes instinctively dip down to look at your breasts or thigh.

 The dress is paired with lace gloves, and the necklace Bada had given you.

Each element paired together decorates your body like beautiful embellishments, creating the vision of perfection in Bada’s eyes.

Her jaw drops out of surprise and astonishment, but once her mind catches up, various thoughts start to form. They start relatively innocent, “She’s so beautiful.” But then they start to stray, “Everyone at the ball will see her.” Until slowly, apprehension builds in her stomach. “I don’t want others to see her like this.”

“Bada?” Your voice brings your fiancée out of her spiraling thoughts. “Should we get going?”

“Oh, yes.” She clears her throat awkwardly, trying to fight the heat that she feels forming in her cheeks. “Sorry, I was–” She stutters. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You laugh bashfully to yourself. “Thank you. You look amazing as well.”

Bada simply smiles back at you, still recovering from your radiance as she holds out her arm. You take it without hesitating, falling in line with her as you both start walking away from your bedroom and toward the stairs to the first level of the mansion. Hyo follows after you as always, keeping her footsteps light while you and Bada engage in conversation.

“When did you buy this dress?”

“I ordered it a few days ago.” You respond. “I wanted to have a more appropriate dress for the occasion.”

“Well, nobody will be able to keep their eyes off of you,” Bada says confidently, beginning the descent down the stairs, holding onto you tight and making sure to help you balance on your heels.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Bada takes the last step down the stairs first, turning to hold onto your waist as she guides you off the stairs.

“Are we the last to leave?” You ask, noticing the lack of Bebe members.

“Lusher and the rest of the girls left earlier.” Bada nods. “I had them scope out the venue to ensure it’s safe for you.”

“But aren’t all the attendees allies?”

“Yes, so they say.” Bada moves toward the entrance of the mansion, pushing the doors open to reveal her sports car already parked in the cobble-stone driveway. “But after everything you’ve experienced recently, I don’t want to take any risks.”

Bada’s words take you back to the Seong incident, and how terrified you’d been, trapped in her hideout. Your lips curl downwards in a frown, your eyes falling to the floor in thought.

Bada notices the shift in your demeanor, and immediately pauses, turning to face you with a gentle and determined expression. “You don’t have to worry about that happening again. All of Bebe will be paying close attention to you the whole night, and I as well. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

You shake your head, “I’m not scared. I trust you.”

Trust. A bond Bada never thought she’d be able to make again since her mother died. And yet, with you, everything comes naturally and easily.

The car ride to Nam-Su’s is relatively long. You find yourself cycling through many conversations with Bada, ranging from what you did this week, to what she did. Eventually, the conversation strays back to the ball.

“So just how influential are the socialites attending?” You ask.

“Hmm, well in terms of power and connections,” Bada begins, “I outrank all of them.” 

“Really?” You awe. 

“Yes,” Bada nods. “But it’s still very important to make a good impression. They may not have as much influence on me, but making enemies out of them could be detrimental.”

“Right, of course.” You clasp your hands together tightly, hoping the pressure will alleviate some of the nerves building in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s on your mind?” Bada questions softly.

You glance at her and sigh, “I guess I’m just a little worried I’ll say or do something wrong. I’m not used to being around extremely important men and women.”

“You don’t need to be nervous.” Bada grabs your hands and parts them, weaving your fingers together. “You’ll do great.”

“I don’t know–”

“Hey,” She tugs gently on your woven hands, making you turn to face her. “just be yourself. If you do that, they’ll all love you.”

The car comes to a stop just as Bada’s words fade into the open air, driving your focus away from her briefly and to the window instead. Outside, there are already a few paparazzi gathered around the car, their cameras positioned upward, as they wait with baited breath for you to exit.

“Paparazzi.” You breathe.

“They don’t usually show up like this.” Bada frowns, taking her phone out and typing quickly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it handled.”

Right as she finishes her sentence, all of Bebe walks out of Nam-Su’s mansion onto the driveway. Lusher and Tatter take the lead pushing the paparazzi away from your car, while the rest of the girls focus on creating a walkway for you both to use.

“Hyo,” Bada says firmly.

“Yes, Boss,” your bodyguard answers quickly, fully parking the car and exiting it. She moves to stand next to your side of the car, but doesn’t open your door, because Bada has already left the car and circled around toward you, opening the door for you.

She holds her hand out for you to take as you slide your exposed thigh out of the car, holding onto her as you move to stand up. Immediately, flashes from the paparazzi’s cameras start to bombard you, but thankfully Bada quickly adjusts her position so she’s standing directly in front of you, blocking the lights from blinding you.

Bebe also jumps into action, hollering at the paparazzi who become overeager and start yelling at you to show your face, or for Bada to move out of the way.

“Hey, who do you think you’re talking to?” Lusher asks loudly, her face scrunched up in disgust.

“Have some respect!” Minah adds, stepping closer to a paparazzo and making him back away. 

Bada remains unbothered by the yelling behind her, already used to the demanding nature of having a public life. “Are you okay?”

You take in a deep breath as you stare at Bada, before putting on a confident expression. “Yes.”

“Remember, just be yourself.” She whispers, linking her fingers with yours again. You from your joint hands to Bada, your eyes going wide as you glance at the paparazzi a few feet away, worried they’d see the display of affection. “Don’t worry,” Bada assures you, “they already know. They can’t do anything about it.”

Reinvigorating yourself, you nod firmly, signaling to her that you’re finally ready. Bada nods back, stepping aside so that you’re now shoulder to shoulder as you begin your stride toward the entrance to Nam-Su’s mansion. The paparazzi start to go crazy, snapping photo after photo of you two, but through the noise and the chaos you hold your head high, wanting to make Bada proud.

Behind you both, Hyo and Bebe do crowd control, surprised at the amount of paparazzi that have begun to slowly trickle in, solely focused on snatching an exclusive photo of you to plaster on headlines tomorrow. “Influential Socialite Bada Lee has found her partner?”

You try to dispel all negative thoughts as you stop in front of the entrance, Bada reaching into her left pocket to retrieve her invitation, and handing it to the man standing by the door. He barely takes a look at it before giving you both a bright smile, and motioning for you both to enter.

You look at Bada from the corner of your eye with an amused expression, which she mirrors. “Famous, are we?”

“What could have given you that impression?” Bada says playfully, guiding you further into the main hall.

You have to admit, Nam-Su really had taken no prisoners when it came to decorating his home. A large chandelier dangles low in the center of the room, glittering diamonds falling from the prongs like teardrops, and casting a low, beige light across the room. Tables hug the sides of the walls, with flowers tumbling out of their boxes atop of them, and adjacent to trays of small, Michelin star foods. Everything is beautiful, including the guests.

“Look who it is!” An excited voice reaches your ears, making you turn in that direction out of instinct. A woman with blonde hair, a bright smile, and a mature look heads in your direction. She’s wearing a low cut dusty pink dress that compliments her curves excellently. 

“Ohh, Kirsten!” Bada says excitedly, switching to English to greet her friend. She meets her halfway and gives her a friendly hug, before pulling away. “I didn’t know you were back in Korea."

“I have some business to oversee here before we’re back to Australia and the States.” The woman, Kirsten replies. Her eyes drift away from Bada for a split second, finding yours instead. Her smile immediately widens, noticing how your arm is looped with Bada. “And who is this pretty lady? I love your dress, by the way.”

“Oh, yes,” Bada turns to look at you, showing a genuine enthusiasm at the thought of introducing you to her friend. “Kirsten, this is my fiancée,” she mutters your name while you step forward, a friendly smile adorning your lips as you shake hands with the older woman. 

“Hello,” you greet her in perfect English, watching as her smile doubles in size. “Thank you, I love your dress as well.”

Bada speaks up again, gesturing to her friend, “This is Kirsten, she handles foreign affairs and runs her own group in Australia. We’ve been business partners and friends for a while now.”

“Hold on,” Kirsten cuts in, mimicking an offended expression. “I’m still surprised by the fiancée comment. Why didn’t you tell me you got engaged, Bada?” She acts like a mother scolding her younger daughter, making your smile widen and a small laugh fall from your lips.

“I was trying to keep it under wraps.” Bada says sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“You can make up for it by inviting me and the girls to the wedding as honored guests.” Kirsten remarks proudly.

“Ah, of course.” Bada nods, smiling widely. “Where are Audrey and Latrice, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s just me this time.” Kirsten clarifies. “They’re both still in Australia, handling things there while I’m here.”

“How often do you come to visit Korea?” You cut in, interested to learn more about her.

“I only really come when I’m needed.” She answers. “No offense, I love it here, but I get homesick very easily.”

“Oh, I would too.” You agree.

“Australia is my favorite place to be.” Kirsten says while making a heart shape with her hand, mimicking a thoughtful expression. Her youthful attitude makes your nerves slowly edd away as you laugh along with her. “Also, can I just say, your English is amazing.”

“Thank you so much.” You place a hand on your chest, the compliment making you smile.

“Of course, of course.” Kirsten takes hold of your hands, swaying them in a playful manner. “Bada, I think you really struck gold here.” She winks in your direction while looking at Bada.

“Yes, I really did.” Your finacée answers earnestly. All the while you and Kirsten were speaking, she’d been watching you silently, admiring the way you interacted with one of her close friends so naturally. If anything, she felt this proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were meant to be a part of her life.

“Ah, Ms. Lee!” Nam-Su’s voice interjects into the conversation. He stands a few feet away, his wife on his arm as he waves you and Bada over.

“Well,” Kirsten starts, “I’ll let you two go. It was wonderful meeting you!” She steps forward to give you a hug, surprising you, but you immediately reciprocate, already feeling comfortable around her.

“Thank you, I enjoyed meeting you as well!” You respond. Kirsten breaks away from the hug, muttering a goodbye to Bada as well before leaving to speak to another guest. You watch her leave for a second, then turn to face Bada. “She’s very sweet.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Your finacée takes your hand again, guiding you in Nam-Su’s direction.

“When did you two meet?”

Bada hums lightly, thinking. “I believe she’d just turned twenty, and I was around my mid twenties.”

“She’s younger than you?” You stare at her with wide, and shocked irises.

“Yes, she’s closer to your age than mine.” Bada nods. “Are you surprised?”

You nod, “She has a very mature look.”

“She does. But don’t feel bad, a lot of people think Kirsten is older than she really is.” Bada slows her pace as you both near Nam-Su, and switches to a more professional demeanor.

“Ms. Lee,” Nam-Su greets Bada again. He then turns to you, “and…”

“This is my finacée,” Bada introduces you to her business partner.

“Ah, I believe I’ve met your parents.” Nam-Su nods. “I see they’ve done well, you are a beautiful young woman.”

“Thank you so much.” You say politely, slightly bowing your head out of respect.

You, Bada, Nam-Su, and occasionally his wife, all engage in a comfortable, and friendly conversation. From this, you learn Nam-Su is a surprisingly carefree man, cutting into the conversation with random anecdotes and jokes. You end up enjoying yourself more than you expected to, but somewhere down the line, the conversation strays to Nam-Su and Bada’s deal, leaving you and the man’s wife out of the loop.

You tap on Bada’s arm lightly, diverting her attention away from Nam-Su to you. “I think I’m going to get a drink from the refreshment table.”

“Oh, sure.” She nods, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You say to Nam-Su and his wife, gesturing toward the table across the room with champagne flutes and appetizers.

“Be my guest.” Nam-Su smiles.

You break away from the group, walking  toward the refreshments while letting out a deep breath. Although everything’s been going well so far, you still feel mildly stressed, constantly checking your posture and making sure to remember proper etiquette. Reaching the table, you grab a champagne flute, holding it up to your lips and taking a small sip. The bubbly alcohol runs down your throat with a mild burn, the taste sharp, but also sweet.

“You’re looking a little bit tense over there.” A voice comes from beside you, making you turn away quickly and cover your mouth in surprise. “Oh come on, do I look that old to you?” Hyo raises an eyebrow at you, crossing her arms across her chest.

“No, no.” You answer quickly, turning to face Hyo with wide eyes. But when you finally stand face-to-face with her, you’re surprised to make eye contact with hazel eyes, the black sunglasses she wears nowhere to be seen. “You’re not wearing your sunglasses…”

“Did you really think I’d wear them at this kind of event?” Hyo scoffs lightheartedly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without them before.” You mutter, completely ignoring her question. “Oh, and about before, I don’t think you’re old, you just startled me.”

“Well at least you’re being careful.” Hyo shrugs. “Really sparing no expense on formality, huh?”

“This,” you gesture at the ballroom. “Is important to Bada.”

Hyo hums lightly, “It is for you as well.”

“Not as much as her.” You say softly. “Most of the people here have known her much longer than I have. I need to make a good impression.”

Hyo frowns at your words, placing her hand on your back and patting it lightly. “You need to loosen up, kid. Have some fun.”

“I’m trying.” You sigh. “But it’s hard to when all I can think about is the fact that I have to turn away from everyone to drink.”

Hyo laughs at your words, which makes a subtle smile form on your lips. “Well you don’t have to for Bebe, the Boss, or me.”

“You guys are the only exception.” You admit. Silence falls between you two for a few minutes while you continue to take small sips of your champagne, and Hyo turns to face the crowd of partygoers, watching them closely.

“Hey,” your bodyguard suddenly speaks up.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t I take some pictures of you?” She makes a camera gesture with her hands, a playful look on her face.

“Pictures?” You glance around you with a hesitant expression. “Isn’t that inappropriate?”

“Come on, it’ll just be a few. You look cute, don’t you want to post them to social media?” Hyo insists. When you still give her a worried look, she sighs. “I’ll be fast, just give me your phone.”

You reluctantly hand her your phone, which she quickly taps into the camera app, taking a step back so she gets your entire dress and body in the frame.

“Okay,” she drags out the y in the word, “give me a sexy pose.”

You let out a deep breath before positioning yourself comfortably, and switching to a more alluring expression.

Hyo gives a hum of approval. “That’s good, maybe just turn to the side more.”

You do as she asks, the pose accentuating your nylon-covered thigh. 

“Perfect, stay right there.” She holds up a hand before tapping on your phone, and taking the picture. “Okay, another pose.”

You shift around a bit, now growing more confident as you stare into the camera intensely.

“Ohh, that one’s nice.” Hyo mumbles under her breath. “And, last one. Make this one cute.”

You immediately smile, changing your posture to be more youthful and relaxed. Hyo taps one last time on your phone before passing it back to you, muttering compliments. You glance at the photos, surprised by how good they came out. Your figure stands out amidst the partygoers behind you, the low light highlighting your features and giving you a subtle glow.

Truthfully, you look amazing.

“Wow.” You mutter.

“My picture taking skills are out of this world.” Hyo banters. You roll your eyes at her playfully, nudging her shoulder. “I’m kidding kid, you look good.” She looks over your shoulder at the pictures again, nodding. “You should post them.”

You contemplate it for a second before doing as she says. Opening Instagram, you make a new post with all three pictures, simply captioning them with a champagne emoji.

Time passes by relatively fast after that, women and men from across the room approaching you to make conversation and introduce themselves. You greet them all timidly but politely, Hyo moving to stand off to the side, silently remaining vigilant as you slowly begin to loosen up further, even making some friends with the women who compliment your dress.

However, across the room, Bada leans against the wall while holding a glass of champagne in her right hand, alone. After you left, Nam-Su only spoke to her a bit longer before breaking off to speak to other guests. It was then that Bada realized you’d been gone for a while, and turned to look for you, only to see Hyo standing next to you, taking pictures of you.

Like clockwork, that venomous and sickening feeling of jealousy bubbles at the surface, making Bada’s expression immediately sour, and her gaze lock onto you both. She waited for Hyo to stop taking pictures of you so she could approach you, but just as soon as she did, other women started to gather around you, their voices just barely reaching Bada’s ears across the room, but she was able to make out every compliment they hurtled your way. And while Hyo fell back into her role as a bodyguard, that didn’t stop other women–and eventually men, from circling you and talking your ear off.

You stand in the center of it, looking shy and a bit reserved, but it seems that only makes them swoon even more. Like a new blooming flower amidst a garden of plain roses, you stand out like a beautiful jewel.

It makes Bada sick to her stomach. She has to watch from afar as their eyes stray from your eyes, dipping down to your breasts or your thigh, their gaze caressing every feature of yours like predators.

She only lasts a few minutes like that before she pushes off the wall, about to interrupt and make it clear to the crowd around you that you’re already spoke for–that you’re hers, and they will never be able to lay their hands on you like they desire to–when a loud voice stops her.

“Bada!” The voice says excitedly.

Bada turns to face the source, mentally cursing herself for not moving faster when she sees who it is. “Raong.” She says with a light sigh.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see you before! How long have you been here?” Raong attaches herself to Bada without a care in the world, missing how the older woman tries to avoid the touch.

Raong is the daughter of Dong-Geun, one of Bada’s oldest business partners. A while back, when he caught word of Bada being rumored to take over her deceased father’s gang, he’d offered one of his sons up as a potential suitor, trying to make her family. But of course, Bada immediately denied. Though she didn’t explain why at the time, Dong-Geun later found out it was because she wasn’t looking for male suitors.

Since then, he’d begun shoving his daughter at Bada, practically begging her to marry Raong. Bada refused once again, this time because she wasn’t looking for a spouse at the time–or ever. At least, that’s what she believed back then.

Eventually, after years of bothering her, Dong-Geun gave up, realizing it was better to keep Bada as a business partner rather than distance her from him by pushing his daughter onto her day after day.

But it seemed Raong never got the memo. Because although she only spoke to Bada a few times at most, she somehow managed to develop a puppy crush on the (much) older woman. She never left Bada alone at events, becoming a nuisance like no other and making Bada hesitant to make public appearances.

“I arrived about an hour ago.” Bada replies in a monotone voice.

“Really? That’s so long ago.” Raong says, making her eyes go wide in an attempt to look cute. Something that fails miserably.

Bada says nothing in response, instead lifting her glass of champagne up to her lips, about to take a sip of it when Raong suddenly grabs it.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking so much!” She pouts. “It’s bad for your health.”

“It’s champagne.” Bada deadpans, already feeling the soul being sucked out of her.

Raong smiles cheekily, glancing between the alcohol and Bada. “You’re right.” She lifts the glass up to her lips, placing them directly onto the spot Bada had hers on, and takes a big gulp of the drink. She pulls away with a proud look, holding the glass up for Bada to take. “Here.”

“No thank you.” Bada immediately answers, her face stone cold. “I’d rather get a new one.”

For some reason, her comment makes Raong laugh loudly–incredibly loud–to the point that other guests turn their heads in her direction, their expressions showing a mix between shock and disapproval.

“Bada, there’s no need to act so shy.” Raong says, completely oblivious to the negative attention she’s garnered. “We may be in public, but everyone knows that we’re the most attractive couple here.”

“Couple?” Bada scoffs. “Where did you get that from?” Out of instinct, her eyes move from Raong’s figure to search for yours. And when she does, a revelation like no other dawns upon her.

You’re standing in the middle of a circle of men and women like before, but instead of speaking to them, your eyes are solely focused on Bada–no, focused on Raong, who clings to her like a needy girlfriend. Your expression shows nothing but absolute discomfort and anger, a look Bada’s never seen you wear before.

You’re jealous. She realizes, the thought echoing in her head over and over again and making a strange, satisfied feeling build in her gut. You must be feeling like she’d been for the past few days while watching you and Hyo interact–full of resentment and annoyance at the woman touching her.

Then, another thought comes to mind. Will she act upon her jealousy if I push her more?

Bada knows she shouldn’t be this petty. As the older woman in the relationship, and the one more emotionally mature, she should put a stop to Raong’s advances, walk up to you, and whisk you away, ridding both of your sour feelings so you can enjoy the night together free from inhibition.

But the more sinful part of Bada wants you to fully understand how she’s felt the past few days–the turmoil and envy that comes from seeing someone you care about fall into the arms of someone else.

Unfortunately for you, Bada will almost always succumb to sin.

“Come on Bada, I know you feel something for me.” Raong pushes herself against the older woman’s arm, trying to make her breasts pop, and look enticing.

Although Bada feels nothing at the action, she plays along. “You’re right, I do.” She says in a low voice looking down to stare directly into Raong’s eyes.

Bada’s behavior even surprises her, the younger girl gapes for a bit before quickly switching back to her piss-poor attempt at being seductive. “I’m so glad you’ve finally realized we’re meant for each other.” Her voice pitches upwards, trying to do an aegyo voice.

The result only causes a nails-on chalkboard effect, almost making Bada wince and break her facade. But before she can, she quickly glances at you. You’re still staring at her, your expression now much further into the territory of anger, before you shift your gaze somewhere else hastily, trying to make it seem like you hadn’t been glaring at her and Raong.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me this long.” Bada turns back to Raong, playing the act up by tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The action makes you gasp across the room, daggers physically puncturing your heart.

Bada hears the sound, and has to stop herself from smirking too widely. Yes, finally you understand how it feels.

Raong swoons at Bada’s display, turning away from her with blushing cheeks and giggling loudly.

“Hey, Boss!” Lusher suddenly appears on Bada’s other side, trying to look casual as she glances between Raong and her friend. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Bada says casually.

“I mean, why are you all over,” she lowers her voice to a whisper to say the next word, “the pest!”

“I’m not all over her, I’m simply being polite.” Bada mutters back, discreetly glancing at you yet again.

“Yeah, right. When have you ever been polite to her?” Lusher catches her straying gaze, finding you on the other side of it. Immediately, it all clicks in her mind. “If this is about what I said a few days ago–”

“Shouldn’t you be keeping a lookout right now?” Bada cuts her off sharply.

“Boss…” Lusher says in a disapproving tone. Her friend doesn’t budge, instead turning her back toward her and speaking to Raong again. Sensing the conversation is over, Lusher walks away with a pit of guilt burning in her stomach, seeing you struggle to hide your emotions as Bada pretends to fawn over the younger woman beside her.

“What’s going on?” Kirsten stops at Lusher’s side, her eyebrows dipping downward as she observes Bada’s strange behavior.

“I think I might have caused this.” Lusher admits, hanging her head in shame.

If someone were to ask you how you were feeling at the moment, the best word to describe it would be "out-of-body."

You truly feel like you’re watching the events in front of you unfold as an omnipotent being. Your eyes are able to take in every movement of both Bada and the girl on her arm to the finest detail, which proves to be a cruel form of torture.

Why is this happening? You find yourself questioning over and over again in your mind. Why is Bada acting this way? Why is she allowing that woman to touch her? And why does it look like she enjoys it?

You swear you feel bile form in your throat with every touch they exchange, and although there’s nothing more that you want to do than to run away in shame, you physically can’t. You’re rooted to the floor like a statue, cursed to watch your fiancée flirt with another woman.

Perhaps this is your fault for being so naive. Did you really think that Bada would remain loyal to you when your engagement had been a business deal from the start? When she so firmly stated that she’d never fall in love with you? How could you have believe that she felt something for you when she touched you so gently, smiled at you, and made you laugh?

Had Bada been secretly having affairs with women from the start? Had she touched them like she did, you? Did she mutter to them how beautiful they looked? Did she undress them with her eyes?

…How could you be so stupid–so young and stupid.

But the worst is yet to come.

You watch in slow motion as the woman beside Bada shifts on her feet, putting all her weight onto her tippy toes as she reaches up to place a kiss on your fiancée’s lips. They’re just about to touch–

“Alright kid, let’s go.” Hyo steps in front of you, blocking your view of Bada and the woman. She grabs onto your arm in a hurry, taking off her jacket and placing it on top of your head to shield you from any straying gazes as she fast-walks you out of the Nam-Su’s mansion, barely managing to tell Lusher that she’s taking you home before you’re out of the door, the only evidence of your attendance the droplets of small tears dotting the floor.

The entire car ride is dead silent, Hyo’s lips sealed tight into lines, and not a single sound coming from you in the backseat that she has to check every few minutes on you to make sure you’re still there.

You are, but your head is down, her suit jacket blocking her view of you as you fight back waves of tears building in your eyes.

“Bada, I have to tell you the truth, I’ve always been in love with you…” The second those words left Raong’s lips, and she began leaning upward in an attempt to kiss her, Bada knew she went too far.

She immediately breaks away from Raong’s hold, the disgusted face she’d been trying to hold back for so long surfacing in an instant. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?” Raong still keeps her voice artificially high, trying to get closer to Bada again. “Are you too shy to do it in public? Should we go somewhere private–”

“I will be going nowhere with you.” Bada interrupts in a stern voice, straightening out her suit. “I’m engaged.”

Raong’s smile finally drops, a sour look crossing her face. “So you really did propose to another woman.” She glances from the floor to Bada again, mustering up another embarrassing “sexy” look. “But it’s fine, she doesn’t have to know.”

Bada scowls at the younger woman. “I mean this in the most polite way possible,” she watches as Raong starts to frown, “I would never choose you, or any other woman over my fiancée. She is the only woman I will ever touch, or kiss.”

Raong stands in front of Bada, frozen and humiliated beyond belief.

“I suggest you stop making advances toward me, if you know what’s good for you.” Bada finally says the words she’s been wanting to for years now, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders. She leaves Raong standing there without a second thought, heading in your direction before she stops, realizing you’re not there anymore.

Her eyebrows furrow, an immediate spike of worry hitting her heart as she searches for Lusher through the crowd of partygoers. 

When she finds her friend, she walks as quickly as possible towards her. “Where did she go?” Bada says, looking from one side of the room to the other in a frenetic manner.

Lusher glances at Kirsten who stands next to her, hesitating before answering. “Hyo took her home…”

Bada’s eyes narrow to slits in milliseconds. “Lusher, I’m taking your car.”

The Lee mansion feels eerily quiet when Bada enters, the lights reflecting off the white marble flooring, casting an ominous glow as she ascends the stairs.

Although she knows the mess she’s caused is purely her own fault, a part of her wants to deny it. She wants to call it retribution for all the mental torment she’s experienced over the past few days.

She wants to call it that, but she knows she can’t.

Standing in front of your door, Bada’s eyes find Hyo’s figure with ease. Your bodyguard is wearing her classic sunglasses again, but this time she doesn’t greet her superior. She doesn’t even acknowledge her presence, simply stands there, her lips in a firm line with her arms crossed against her chest.

Bada briefly considers speaking with Hyo, but eventually decides against it, knowing she should check on you first, before anything else. Her hand reaches up to knock on the wood of your door, the sound echoing through the hallway as she retracts her fist.

She waits there for about three minutes with no response before pushing the door open and entering your bedroom.

Most of the lights have been turned off, just one raining down a small amount of light and illuminating the room. Bada closes the door behind her, the guilt that had already been brewing in her stomach doubling when she notices you’re not in bed, but sitting in front of your vanity with your dress still on, staring at your reflection with an emotionless expression.

Bada mutters your name, stopping a few feet away from you. “I knocked on your door, did you hear me?”

You don’t respond, only continue to stare at your reflection, completely disregarding her presence.

Bada frowns at you, clearly disappointed by your silence. “You shouldn’t have left so suddenly. I was worried about you.” This time, she sees something shift in your eyes, but still, you remain quiet and stock still. Bada huffs, becoming increasingly frustrated as she gets closer to you, stopping right by your side. “Is that Hyo’s jacket?” She gestures to your bodyguard’s suit that’s strewn across your shoulders.

This time when you don’t answer her, Bada finally snaps, releasing the tension that’d been brewing in her for so long.

“Would you say something to me?” She says, the words coming out much harsher than she intended them to.

Your lips stay stuck together for a minute before they finally part. “What do you want me to say, Bada?” Your voice sounds an equal mix of tired, and uncharacteristically cold. “You made yourself perfectly clear at the ball.”

Your fiancée stares at you from through the reflection of the mirror, trying to lock eyes with you. “Why are you acting this way?”

“Why am I acting this way?” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You shouldn’t ask such obvious questions.”

“I’m asking because I don’t know.” She lies through her teeth. She does know, and despite that she continues to push you, wanting to hear you say the words, “I’m jealous.”

“You know, if you wanted to fool around with other women, the least you could do was take it somewhere private where I wouldn’t have to see.” You shoot back, tone bordering on venomous.

“I wasn’t fooling around with her.” Bada denies firmly. “And you’re one to talk.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally look away from the mirror, turning to face Bada with a furious expression.

“Hyo took you home.” Your fiancée lists. “You’re wearing her jacket. She took photos of you while we were at a public event. You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

“Oh please, spare me, Bada Lee,” you interrupt, your voice rising. “She’s my bodyguard! And I don’t touch her like you touched that woman. I haven’t kissed her–”

“I didn’t kiss Raong,” Bada interjects.

“I spend so much time with her because all you do is work all day!” You continue ranting. “I have never once disrespected you like you just did to me thirty minutes ago.”

“It’s not like that–” Bada tries to explain herself, but now that you’re speaking, you can’t stop.

“I know you said that you would never fall in love with me, but what the fuck?” You exclaim. “How could you just kiss her in front of all of those people when you introduced me as your fiancée?”

“I didn’t kiss her.” Bada reiterates, feeling her patience wear thin.

“Some of the guests know my parents!” You’re bordering on tears once again. “Can you imagine what they’ll think when they hear that my future wife kissed another woman in front of the most influential people in South Korea?”

“God damn it–” Bada steps forward, her frustration finally getting the better of her as she grabs you by the waist, pulling you flush against her body, forcing you to look into her eyes. "I never kissed Raong," she says again, her voice full of force. "I would never kiss her. I would never kiss a woman that isn't you."

Silence falls heavily across the room, your expression shifting from anger, to confusion, then to surprise.

“If you believe there is another woman out there that I would rather press my lips against, you’re crazy.” She whispers.

You stare into Bada’s eyes, completely taken aback by the sudden turn of events before your eyes slip downwards, to where her lips are.

Bada does the same, although she takes it a step further, bringing her thumb up to press onto your bottom lip, watching the plush skin accommodate for the pressure she applies.

“I want you,” she mutters inches away from your lips. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you.”

As if an invisible string had been snapped, both you and Bada surge forward, placing your lips against each other with unrestrained passion. Bada’s right hand grabs onto the side of your face, tilting your head backward as you two move in synch, completely lost in the taste of each other. She pulls you in even closer to the point that your chests knock against each other with every labored breath, the desire between you two so strong that you can’t help but moan.

Bada hears the sound and feels a pulse go straight to her cunt, the build-up to this simple kiss being so long that she can’t help but revel in it. She bites down on your lip and the second you part your lips to gasp, she slips her tongue into your mouth.

Your teeth clash in a heated dance, your tongues caressing each others as Bada turns you around so your back is toward the direction of your bed, walking you backward quickly so that you fall onto it, your body laid out on the cushion like a fallen angel. She follows you onto the bed, keeping herself above you with a single hand as she continues to kiss you deeply, a small string of saliva falling from your lips because of your sloppiness.

Bada’s other hand busies itself by grabbing onto your exposed thigh and hiking it against her hip, pushing her thigh between the gap of yours. Finally she pulls away, both of you panting loudly into the open air of the room. “Fuck.” Bada curses. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

Your arms wrap around her shoulders, wanting to kiss her again because of her confession.

“I bet you’ve wanted to too, huh?” She smirks, leaning down to just barely graze her lips against yours, not quite giving you what you want. “That’s why you got so jealous when you thought I kissed Raong, right?”

You huff at Bada’s words, hearing that woman’s name you frustrates you.

“Oh, are you mad?” She taunts you, laughing. “Yeah, you’re really mad aren’t you?” The hand that’d been stationed on your thigh moves under the fabric of your dress and inwards, towards your hot and sticky pussy. “You’re mad because you imagined me touching her like this, didn’t you?” Her fingers ghost against the material of your underwear, already finding a wet patch forming at the bottom of it.

Bada smirks widely. She’s got you right where she wants you.

“Did you imagine me touching her through her panties?” Bada’s fingers move up and down the wet patch, making it grow with every passing second.

You bite your lip, trying hard to suppress your moans at the feeling of your finacée’s long fingers touching you where you need her most.

“Did you imagine me playing with her pussy and making her moan like a whore?” Bada nudges her nose with yours, enjoying every second of your withering composure. “Huh? Are you going to say something?”

You shake your head, wanting to deny the fact that you indeed had imagined all those things in your blind fit of jealousy, which only made you spiral further.

“No?” Bada whispers in a higher-pitched voice, trying to mimic you.

You don’t respond.

“Say something.” She demands, her voice dropping and her eyes narrowing into a glare. It lacks any real hatred or heat but does burn with sexual desire. “Say something or I’ll leave you here wet and panting bitch in heat.”

You finally release your lip, completely believing that she’d leave you like this. “No, please,” you whimper quietly.

“Ah, she speaks.” Bada smiles, continuing to circle your clit with her fingers, now applying more pressure. “Now tell me, did you imagine any of those things I described to you?”

Again you grow quiet, embarrassment flooding your veins.

Bada’s smile drops in an instant. “What did I say?” She withdraws her hand from your clit, moving it back toward your thigh.

“Wait–” you cry out, looking completely in anguish. “I did! I did!”

Bada hums in approval, placing her fingers against your underwear again. “Which one?”

“I–” The words die on your tongue, the small pressure that Bada’s applying to you making your sensitive body go haywire.

“Which one?” She says again firmly.

“The–the last one!”

“Oh baby,” Bada pouts mockingly, “that’s not good enough. Tell me exactly which one.”

“I imagined you playing with her pussy.” You admit, feeling more shame in that moment than you ever had before.

“Good job, babe.” She praises you. “You finally got the words out. Should I give you a reward?”

“Yes, please,” you practically beg.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Bada looks at you through hooded eyes, smirking. She pulls away the material of your panties and inserts her finger, your hot, wet walls sucking her in compliantly.

"Bada!" You all but scream, your legs jerking in pleasure.

"You're so wet," Your finacée whispers, hearing the sheer amount of slickness your body produces. "Is this all for me?"

"All for you, Bada." You immediately reply, tears beginning to build in your eyes.

"Good." Pumping her finger agonizingly slow, Bada flips the fabric of your dress up so she can watch your pussy open and close, beating against her finger in a fast rhythm.

"Bada–" You whine, closing your eyes and trying to move against her long, firm finger. "Touch me more, please."

"Yeah? You want more?" Bada says, continuing her slow pace.

"Yes." You cry.

"But do you think you deserve it?" She asks, glancing between your wrecked pussy to your face, which is beautifully expressive.

“I don’t kn–” you hesitate, “yes, I do.”

“I don’t know.” Bada cocks her head to the side, staring at you deeply. “You spoke to me very rudely just moments before.” She makes a thoughtful expression before looking down at you again. “I think you should apologize.”

“I’m sorry–” you begin, but she cuts you off immediately.

“You should apologize for wearing this dress to the ball.” Bada insists. “For looking so fucking sexy and letting everyone eye fuck you while I had to stand there and watch.”

“I’m s–”

“Apologize for making me think you and Hyo were fooling around behind my back.”

At this point you’re so far gone and dizzy, you don’t even fully register what she’s saying, only that you’re desperate for her to touch you more.

“I’m sorry for everything, Bada.” You say through heaving breaths.

Your fiancée gives you a satisfied smile. “I accept your apology, baby.”

Wasting no more time, Bada dives in with an almost inhumane speed, placing her mouth against you, and letting her tongue part your pussy lips as she drives it straight into you. She's rewarded with another loud, pornographic moan as she begins to slurp your juices up, volatile sounds coming from her mouth, and your slick pussy.

Bada’s nose presses against your clit in a dreadfully delicious way, stimulating it and making your legs shake around her head.

“Bada!” You chant her name like a prayer, feeling insane amounts of pleasure you never thought you’d experience in your lifetime.

She mumbles something back, the words lost against the skin of your pussy as she moves her tongue in and out of you faster, adjusting her grip around your thighs so she presses even more of your weight onto her.

Bada pulls away with a heaving breath, her chest rising and falling at a concerning speed. But she doesn't stop, she never does, and before you know it she's diving back in, licking and sucking on your pearly-shaped clit, giving you dizzying pleasure.

She flicks her tongue a few more times, dragging her lips and pressing them firmly down until she's driving her tongue back into your pussy, and moving her tongue around your walls, sucking up all the wetness you produce.

And there's tons of it—some of it is dripping down Bada’s chin in a nasty combination with her spit, the murky substance stickily beading down until it drops onto her clavicle.

"Oh fuck," you moan, your head being thrown back with your mounting pleasure. Although it felt like she’d just started, you already feel an orgasm building in the depths of your stomach. "I think I'm gonna cum!"

Briefly popping off your pussy, Bada's raspy voice speaks up. "Do it. Drench me baby, fucking cream all over my face."

Your world goes white for a long moment, your fiancée’s chants egging you on, telling you to just let the pleasure consume you. So you let it happen, you let your pussy throb and release its slick all over Bada’s face.

Quiteness follows your orgasm, but the buzzing in your ears doesn't leave you alone, nor does your bride-to-be.

“Oh baby,” Bada’s head backs away from your body, the lower half of her face absolutely drenched in your cum. She licks her lips, savoring every droplet of your essence, “you taste like a fucking dream.”

“Bada.” You whine, her words making your pussy go hot again. “Don’t say things like that.”

“What? You don’t want me to tell you how pretty your pussy is?” She leans over your face again, wiping your cum off her face with her fingers and licking it after. “Don’t want me to tell you that I could die a happy woman between your legs?”

You wrap your legs around Bada’s waist, pulling her in closer so you can give her a kiss. She lets you, thankfully, and on her tongue you can taste yourself, which makes you moan.

When she pulls away she’s wearing a much more tender look, like your kiss had brought her back from a trance. “I’m not done with you yet.” She whispers, bringing her hands down to grope your tits through the fabric of your dress.

Although it’s late and you’re already tired, you still nod at her, slipping into a submissive state yet again.

Bada smiles at you before completely getting off of the bed, making you stare up at the ceiling in confusion. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see what she’s doing, and what you see is nothing short of heavenly.

Bada’s stripped herself of her tie, her customized suit jacket, and is now only in a white dress shirt–but not for long. She chucks off the wrinkled shirt, revealing the black sports bra she was wearing under, and… a pair of muscled arms and abs?

You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Naturally, as the leader of a mafia group, she’s required to stay relatively lean and strong, yet every divot and curve of her muscles makes you want to jump her bones even more.

Bada doesn’t even realize you’re staring, she’s much too busy taking off her pants, now only in her sports bra and her boxers, with something else in her hand. She looks up then, finding you practically gaping at her, making her smirk.

“Already have you star-struck and I haven’t even started yet.” She chuckles, taking the thing in her hand and placing it closer to the ground so she can step through it.

It’s then your eyes focus in on it, realizing that–oh.

A long, girthy black strap sits across Bada’s pelvis. Your eyes widen, your heart racing a the monstrous length and girth of her strap, as well as the texture and ridges on it. You weren't just going to be fucked, you were going to be absolutely destroyed.

“When did you–” your voice dies out, completely lost for words.

“I made a stop to my bedroom before coming here,” Bada answers easily. “Call it wishful thinking, but I felt I’d need it.” She grabs a bottle of lube from the pocket of her dress pants, about to apply some to her cock when she sees movement out of her peripheral and stops.

Absolutely mesmerized, you crawl over to Bada, the material of your dress slightly pulled up so she can trace the curve of your plump ass.

Reaching out an excited hand, you grasp the base of her cock, and open your lips wide before placing them on the mushroom head of her strap.

Immediately Bada drops the lube, her head dropping down in awe to watch you lick and suck on her cock, her jaw falling open. "Fuck." She grabs your head softly, helping you move up and down, her eyes rolling shut. For a second Bada feels like the strap attached to her really is her cock, and that she can feel your plump lips move against it, bringing her unbridled pleasure.

Your slobber drips all the way down her strap and wets her grey boxers, the material turning a damp shade darker. Bada pulls you down her cock gently, trying to avoid gagging you too harshly, but she can't deny the jolt in her cunt when she hears you struggle to take the inches, a slight choking sound murmuring against the black plastic.

"You like that, don’t you?" Bada finally gathers her bearings enough to speak again.

Your eyes glisten with tears as you nod, moving off of her cock to gasp out a breath. "Please, can't wait any longer."

"Okay, baby." Bada nods, giving into your wants easily and moving on top of you again. "I’m going to make you feel so good, honey." Taking her slick cock, she gently guides it to your pussy. "Open wide."

You immediately comply and spread your legs as wide as you can, watching with parted and panting breaths how your fiancée finally nudges the head of her cock into your pussy.

Slick and wide, her cock splits your pussy open only with its mushroom head inserted, making you let out a debauched and loud moan, the sound reverberating against the walls and filling every pore in the room.

"Shit." Bada curses, feeling herself come to a stop with how hard you're clenching down on her strap. "You've gotta relax, pretty. You're very tight."

Huffing, you attempt to relax your muscles, and slowly but surely, she’s able to nudge in another inch or two before you start clenching down hard again. Her thumb comes up to your clit and rubs it gently, making your eyes close and another moan slip from your lips.

"C'mon babe, take a nice deep breath in and relax." Bada guides you, rubbing your clit with slightly more force, and at a faster speed.

"Okay." You choke out, taking in a long and shaky breath.

She feels you loosen a bit, and again she takes the chance to slide her cock further inside you, and she's finally able to slip it all in. She breathes out a long, drawn-out curse when all she's able to see of the black plastic is the small sliver of the base.

"There you go." Bada pulls her hand up to your thighs, squishing their flesh in her grip and rubbing soothing circles into them.

Your pussy clenches at your finacée’s raspy praise, a strangled whine leaving your lips. "Bada—"

"Shhh," Bada moves forward, even able to push slightly more of the strap into you as she reaches over to give you a sweet kiss, shushing your loud cries. "I've got you. Promised I was gonna make you feel good, remember?"

"Mhmm." You hum, your eyes sparkling.

"I'm not going to let my wife down." Bada keeps to her promise and begins moving, her strap slowly pulling out of your wet pussy, then firmly coming back in and making your back arch.

"Holy shit." You awe, your mouth falling open. She hadn't even started yet. Bada then begins to pick up her pace slowly, pulling and pushing through your pussy's walls, the base of her strap slapping against your lower lips and making loud sounds fill the room.

"Damn it," Bada curses, her eyes drinking in the sight of you. Plump lips parted open, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, your dress falling so that your tits are spilling out and bouncing in kind with her harsh thrusts.

Leaning forward, Bada takes a nipple into her mouth, her unoccupied hand grabbing and caressing the other, her eyes falling closed at the feeling of your tit in her mouth. Fuck, if she knew she could have had you like this long ago, she wouldn’t have waited so long.

But in a weird way, the wait made it even more satisfying, made the sounds of your pornographic moans even more sweet to Bada’s ears. 

"Bada!" There's not a single thought in your mind anymore, the space being occupied by the woman who is thrusting into your pussy at a dizzying speed, and covering your tits in her spit. The woman who swore she would never fall in love with you. The woman who’d risked her life to save you from kidnappers. Your fiancée.

Bada's mouth leaves your nipple with an obscene pop, the flesh around it slightly bruised a darker color from her sucking. "Does that feel good baby?"

"It feels so good." You almost scream, your eyes now opening to see Bada’s frantic thrusts, and how sweat is starting to form on the arches of her brows. "You're so good."

Bada closes her eyes, your words going straight to her cunt. "It's about to get a whole lot better." She leans forward again, this time grabbing your legs and folding them up, then pushing them as far as they can into your chest, giving her uninhibited access to your pussy.

You're seeing stars, you're sure of it. Bada's cock is lodged so deep in you, you swear you feel her in your stomach, your eyes widening to the size of saucers. She pounds into you at an incomparable speed, wet, sloshy sounds squirting from your pussy, making a beautiful melody with your moans, and Bada’s low groans.

A ring of cream begins to form around the base of her strap, the milky white substance catching her attention and making her teeth grit painfully against each other. "Are you close?"

"Yes, yes! Don't—don't stop!" You cry out,  your bedroom ceiling moving in your vision with every thrust of her strap.

Bada's breath catches, feeling the stimulation of her strap rubbing and pushing against her cunt build up into an orgasm. "Fuck, me too." She dips down to give you a purely tongue kiss before pulling away, panting. "Cum. Fucking cum, honey. Cum all over me."

And you do. Your mind goes blank and you let out your loudest, most obscene moan and cum on Bada's cock.

She follows close behind, letting out a low and drawn-out groan, cumming in her boxers.

Your body becomes liquid against your sheets, the only sound in the now quiet room being your staggered breath, and your fiancée’s panting.

Kissing your ankle, Bada gently unfolds your legs, making sure to be careful as she lays them back against her bedsheets and slowly pulls some of her strap out of you. You wince a bit and let out a choked whine, which she quickly silences with a sweet kiss and mumbled praises.

"It's alright, honey. You're good, you're with me." Eventually, Bada's able to fully usher her cock out of your still-tight walls and take off her harness, throwing her strap into some random, unimportant corner of the room. "Great job. You were so good, my love."

"Bada." You croak without thought.

"Yeah, honey?" Bada coos, caressing your cheek with her rough thumb.

"I'm tired."

“I know, sweet girl.” She mumbles, placing her forehead against your own. “Catch your breath, okay? I’ll clean you up. You don’t have to do anything.” Staying there for only a few more seconds, Bada sits up and walks to your bathroom, grabbing a towel and running it under some water before returning to you. She gently parts your legs, shushing any hisses of pain that leave your lips as she cleans you up, and helps you out of your tight dress.

Once you’re rid of your clothing, she moves to sit next to you.

“How are you feeling now?” She asks, staring down at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Sore.” You admit.

“Already?” Bada looks down at your legs, frowning. “Here,” She places her large hand on your thigh, slowly kneading your flesh in soothing circles, making you let out small, blissful sighs. “Does this help?”

“Yes.” You nod, smiling at her before closing your eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” A comfortable silence settles into the air between you two before your finacée breaks it. “About before,” she suddenly begins, her voice low and remorseful. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

You stare at her quietly, then speak up. “Why did you do it?”

Bada looks down at your body and sighs. “I wanted you to understand how I felt.”

“What do you mean?”

She shifts her gaze to your eyes. “I’ve been jealous of you and Hyo for days now.”

“Hyo?” You say incredulously. “Wait, is this about her taking me home? Because she only did that to stop me from seeing you and that woman kiss.”

“It’s not just because of that.” Bada shakes her head. “You two have gotten very close recently, and I didn’t know how to feel about it.” She closes her eyes, reaching deep within her to find the right words. “I guess I felt envious because she can spend all her day with you, while I’m constrained to my limited free time to see you.”

Slowly, the wheels in your cogs start to turn, and suddenly everything makes sense. “Bada, Hyo is like an older sister to me.” You tell her. “I don’t see her in that way.”

Your fiancée opens her eyes, staring at you with a mildly surprised look. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You nod.

“Oh, I see.” Bada moves her hands to your other thigh, starting to massage it. “I don’t see Raong in any romantic light either, by the way. I’ve been trying to get her off my back for years.”

“Well, clearly she doesn’t understand.” You huff.

The action is so cute, Bada can’t help but laugh. “Believe me, she understands now.” When you give her a confused look, she elaborates. “When she tried to kiss me, I told her I had a fiancée.”

Bada’s words make you smile shyly, butterflies dancing in your tummy.

“And…” She trails off, a soft smile also finding her lips. “I told her that I’m in love with my fiancée, and I would never so much as think about devoting myself to anyone other than her.”

The l word that falls from Bada’s lips makes your eyes grow impossibly wide, and your lips part in astonishment. She watches it all, never shifting her expression away from being loving.

“Bada…” you trail off, tears in your eyes. “I love you too.”

Gazing into the other’s eyes, you meet halfway in a sweet kiss, one that seals your love, and commitment to each other. 

“You are my everything,” Bada mumbles against your lips. “I will always succumb to you.”

taglist:

@aericrys, @somerandomtinyperson, @bluebada, @dallaji, @luvjanexx, @hyejuwu, @diana-rose-25, @jjlovesbada, @cephox, @prilux, @youknow1234, @fae-the-wanderer, @mightymyo, @aein-tings

(if your name is crossed out i wasn't able to to tag you)

want to join the taglist? send me a message or comment saying you'd like to be on it, and i'll add you!

[nyxiswrites1200]

𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮'𝓼 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 💌

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Cheating (remember cheating isn't cool guys <3), Drinking, Size kink, P in V, Nipple Play

Mentions: Lingerie, Failing marriage

An: Hey babes <3 welcome to the Valentine's collection. I'll be posting a series of spicy and romantic fics this week. I intend to make this a tradition of doing different characters each year.

----

You couldn't believe this! It was Valentine's day and your husband hasn't acknowledged it. He kissed you this morning before he left for work and that was it.

There's no way he forgot because you said it just yesterday, even agreed on plans. But, here it is, almost 7pm and he was still at work according to his text. You couldn't help but sigh as you sat alone in the apartment.

You can't say you didn't see this coming, your relationship has been a little rough. Mostly due to his absence but that's besides the point.

You brush down your carefully picked outfit you'd put on. Feels like it's going to waste now. You get up and step outside of your apartment, maybe you would just go do something on your own. Just for the sake of getting fresh air is what you tell yourself.

Then a stroke of luck, your apartment neighbor walks back from checking his mail. Toji and you were friendly. He was a single man and nice enough, plus you appreciated his honesty sometimes. He also likes the way you make cookies and jello shots, neither your husband appreciated.

"That color looks good on you" Toji chimes in as he notices you, that cocky smirk on his lips. You can't help but smile a little "Well, thanks Toji. I'm glad someone can appreciate it." You scoff, yeah, maybe you were a little bitter.

"Oh? Is he not home yet?" He asks, in reference to your husband "Oh it's worse! He's not here and he's barely acknowledged me all day. Would it kill him to at least send flowers or something?" You pout as you brush a hand over your hair.

Toji scoffed "What a piece of work" he smirks as he looks at you "Why don't you come in for a drink? I'd hate to let such a pretty thing waste away all night on a man who can't appreciate it" he suggested, and you were more than happy to oblige.

Toji let you in, his apartment was cleaner than you thought. He fixed you both a shot while giving you something to chase it with.

You sigh as you down the shot and sip on your chaser to soothe the burn.

Toji downs his shot with ease as he looks over at you "Oh come on, princess. Don't be down...you get to spend the evening with me" he smirks and you can't help but chuckle at how cocky he is. Although, he has every right to be.

Toji is huge, he's tall with muscles for days. He has a dominating aura, he was overwhelming. You liked it, maybe a little more than you should for someone who's married.

You haven't bothered to check your phone. Toji had you laughing, drinking, and forgetting about the shitty day you were having. His hand on your thigh as he rubbed it with his thumb. The simple action had you feeling a pulse in your panties.

"You know, I don't know why you don't have a date tonight" you chuckle "Oh? You think I'm that charming?" He teases "If not charming, then at least a girl would come home to get some action" you add softly.

Toji can't help but let out a deep chuckle "That's fair, princess. But I can't see why your loser husband would miss out on you".

"Why? Would you do different?" You smile as you lean in a bit closer to him. It was probably the alcohol making you this confident.

Toji smirked as he moved his hand to wrap around your waist. "Of course I would, princess. I wouldn't miss the chance to spend time with you...to kiss those pretty lips of yours...to push those pretty lacy panties aside" he says in a low tone, one that has you pressing your thighs together.

"Yeah?..." You respond breathlessly.

"I'm not gonna touch you, princess. I don't want you to hate me" he chuckles "I could never" you lean in close. "Are you drunk?" He asks "No, I promise" you say sternly.

Toji carefully cups your cheek with his strong and large hands. "Please, Toji..." You beg softly, looking up at him.

Toji groans "You're gonna get me in so much trouble, princess".

Toji leans in and kisses you gently, you don't hesitate to kiss him back. He moves his hands to your waist, his big hands practically covering your hips. You tangle your hands into his hair as you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip. Toji doesn't hesitate to let your tongue inside, he tastes the alcohol on your tongue and it's addicting.

He picks you up and pulls you into his lap, trying not to break the kiss. He sets you down, right against his cock. You moan into his mouth as you feel his cock press against you through your clothes.

Toji pulls away from the kiss, saliva connecting your lips.

"You're so pretty..." he rasps as his hands slide up under your shirt. You arch into his chest at the feeling of his hands on your skin.

"Thank you, Toji" you speak softly as you feel his hands undo your bra. "Of course, princess." He tossed your bra to the side as his hands cup your breasts, fondling them, and teasing your nipples.

"Mm- Toji~" you moan as he fondles you. "You've got such nice tits, princess. Your nipples get hard so easy...or is that because it's just me?" He teased with a small chuckle.

"Yeah, it feels so good" you moan as you begin to grind your hips into his hard cock. Between the bit of alcohol and lustful haze, you weren't really sure your words made any sense. You just know you wanted Toji to keep touching you.

Toji didn't waste much time, the next moments almost felt like a blur to you. His hands are prying off your clothing as you do the same to him. He lets out unrestrained moans and groans as he stuffs you full of his cock.

"Tojiii~ So...fuckin big" you moan as you're scratching into his back. He grunts in response "You feel so good, princess. You're man is really missing out..." He chuckles breathlessly "I'm so glad that the pretty lingerie you bought didn't go to waste~" he rasps, not missing the lacy set you were wearing when he tugged off your clothes.

It doesn't take long before Toji has you toppling over the edge. His hands leaving marks on your hips as he let you cum all over his cock. Sinful moans and lewd noises filling the room.

As much as he wanted to fill you up, leave his cum dripping out of you when you left to go back to your husband, he settled for pulling out and cumming on your stomach. You whine, you almost sounded disappointed.

Toji chuckled as he leaned in and kissed you "What is it, princess?". You kiss him back but slowly pull away as you look up at him. "You could have finished inside...I'm on the pill" you say softly "Well, I didn't know you wanted to prove such a point to your shitty husband" he chuckled.

You flipped yourself over on the couch, your tits pressing into the sofa with your ass up and soaked pussy on display. "You wanna do it again?" You ask sweetly, looking back at Toji. Toji groaned as he felt his cock immediately get hard again. "You're such a dirty little princess, aren't you?" He smirked.

His hand came up and rubbed along your folds before lightly slapping your pussy. You let out a whiny moan in response.

Toji doesn't hesitate to stuff you full of him again. His cock always hits the deepest and most sensitive parts of you, the ones that have you pulsing around his cock within minutes.

He holds your hands behind your back, his figure easily towering over you. It only takes one of his hands to keep both of yours pinned behind you. You can't help but moan out for him into the apartment, absolutely sure someone must hear this.

"You're so pretty like this...bent over, taking my cock, drooling into the cushions. Nobody has ever fucked you this good, hm?" He teased as he lightly slapped your ass, earning him another needy moan.

"No no, nobody has ever fucked me so good~" you stutter out as you press your hips back into Toji when he slaps your ass.

"Awe, poor thing. Don't worry, you can always come over when you need it" he says lowly, his voice having you tightening around his cock.

"Toji- I'm close" you whine out as you grind back into him. Toji moves his hands so they're both firmly holding your hips. He starts thrusting more roughly into you, pounding against your poor cervix.

The action leaving you a moaning and whiny mess beneath him as you babbled his name into the cushions. Then you practically screamed as you came- no, squirted on his cock. Toji relished the sight of you as he thrust into you a few more times before pressing right against your sweet spot and cumming inside you.

After a few beats, Toji slowly pulls out of you. He flips you over, dragging you into his chest as both of you try to catch your breath.

"Do you wanna take a shower?" He asks softly as he reaches over and cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "The night is still kind of young, we could get some shitty takeout and have a few more drinks..." He rasps and you can't help but blush a little. "I'd like that..." You smile in return...

The following morning, you return to your apartment with little guilt or shame, considering the fact your husband didn't text you all night.

Maybe you should be looking into divorce papers, Toji seemed like he never wanted you to leave. Maybe he'd welcome you into moving in?

[ambrosiagourmet]

Rin Masterpost

Rin! Rinsha Fana! Beloved side character I think about far too much (or maybe not enough?)

I decided that it might be nice to put together an informational post about Rin, since she has some of my favorite background details of any character in Dungeon Meshi. This is partly as reference for myself, and partly for anyone else who might be interested in her but not know where to chase down the tidbits we we get of her, both in canon & extra materials. There’s also a little bit of theorizing and analysis sprinkled in for fun.

If anyone spots something I missed, please let me know and I will add it in!

Alright. Time for ultimate #rinposting

History and Timeline:

We don't have an official timeline for Rin (even in the expanded Adventurer's Bible, sadly), but we can put a lot of pieces together based on Kabru's timeline & their respective ages.

Rin is 2 years older than Kabru, and they met when he was 9. Assuming that he met her soon after she was taken to the elven capital, that means that the elves took her when she was 11.

Before that, she lived on the Northern Continent. Interestingly, when Mickbell asks about Shuro, Rin says she was born "here."

Since "here" doesn't mean the actual Island itself, it must mean simply "not the east." She is described in the Adventurer's Bible as having "no real knowledge of or attachment to the East," so maybe that's why she draws a "there" verses "here" line.

I'd also like to add a note here that the elves don't seem uh... they don't seem great about respecting the value of other cultures, especially those of short-life species. Milsiril seems to have discouraged Kabru from eating or remembering food from his hometown, at least, and that's even as an adoptive parent who cares (at least in some way) for her child. As I will touch on later, the "care" that Rin was under probably had even less respect for her history or ties to either Eastern or Northern culture.

That is all to say, considering that Rin spent many years with the elves, I'd take her having "[no] attachment to the East" as more of a comment on how she feels now, and less as a definite choice she made. She may genuinely have chosen that approach and opinion for herself, she may have been pushed towards it by the elves, and she may have had little choice at all in the matter - all are valid interpretations, though I personally lean towards the thought that it's unlikely the elves didn't have at least some hand in it.

Anyway, Rin does seem to know at least a bit about her heritage - she can presumably name and identify the specific island her parents are from, and she recognizes that "Shuro" isn't a name used there. She also knows that different places from the Eastern archipelago speak different languages, so she knows at least a little about the other islands as well.

Some additional extrapolations I'll make based on these facts: she never mentions, and probably isn't in contact with, any family from her island. This may be because her extended family died, because her parents didn't (or weren't able to) maintain contact, or because she lost contact when she was taken by the elves. Somewhat relatedly, she also prooobably doesn't speak the language, at least not fluently, though her being able to comment on the state of language in the archipelago makes me think that she at least learned a little as a kid.

Anyway, Rin's parents were refugees from the archipelago, though we don't know what specifically caused them to leave. There is this little tidbit of info we get (from the cover of chapter 48, of all places), though:

So yeah, that seems like it would be the backdrop of Rin's parents fleeing. As I said earlier, it's unclear if Rin might have any living family left back on her island. The listing she has for “family” in the Adventurer's Bible is just a dash, but so is Izutsumi's, for instance, and we know that she was taken from her family with no knowledge of who might still be out there. It's possible everyone else was killed, it's possible they were separated... it's possible that Rin's parents didn't even know.

As an additional note, and this is speculation on my part, but I think there is an argument to be made, with this tidbit from the cover as well as the Nakamoto clan's specialty in espionage and use of ninjas, that the politics of the archipelago are partially based on Sengoku era Japan. Not necessarily super relevant here, but I think it's interesting context for all... of the archipelago characters, honestly.

(Especially considering it seems like the Nakamoto clan is in a relatively comfortable position, and yet clearly are involved, or at least prepared to be involved in larger conflict. How stable is their position, really? How is Shuro's father viewed by the wider region and archipelago as a whole? What about his lord? NOT THE POINT THIS IS A POST ABOUT RIN. BUT IT'S VERY INTERESTING TO THINK ABOUT.)

Okay, back to Rin's parents.

Whatever caused them to leave, they made their way to the north, where they made their living with their magic for a time. There are no specifics about what kind of magic they used, but we know at least some examples of jobs that magic can get you, based on the flashback to Laios and Falin's childhood in chapter 26. Laios proposes that Fain could use her magic to be a priest, gravekeeper, or wandering exorcist. Though these are specific to Falin's affinity with spirits, they give some idea of the shape of the work that might be available. It's important, but it is also on the outskirts of society - not necessarily admired or appreciated by the average person.

And Rin’s parents were killed by vigilantes for that magic. It's not entirely news that superstitious villages in the area would sometimes kill magic users - we see a small drawing of people being burned at the stake in a panel towards the end of the manga:

Nonetheless, Rin is the only person in the main cast who has experienced this brutality firsthand. And she did experience it firsthand, having been found by the elves as the sole survivor within the burnt ruins of her home.

It is unknown exactly how she survived, or what happened to her parents before and during the fire. Rin lived, and they did not.

The elves came some time after the fire, intending to investigate reports of ancient magic. They (and we) don't know if Rin's parents actually did use ancient magic, or if the reports and murders were simply spurred by general fear and superstition. Rin was the only piece of "evidence" that remained, and so she was taken back to the west with the elves when they left.

We don't know much about her time on the Northern Central Continent (where the elves/Canaries are based), but it doesn't seem like she was adopted or taken in by anyone the way that Kabru was. According to the Adventurer's Bible, after being taken into custody, "under their care she was treated as a captive animal would be." I would guess that means very basic food and shelter, little to no education. Probably the most social contact she got was from Kabru, as well as maybe, occasionally, from elves treating her as a curiosity, such as in this bit in the Adventurer’s Bible:

Assuming she left with Kabru (which seems like it is the case, there's no info about them having separated during that time), she spent 9 years with the elves, and has been with Kabru on the Island in the 4 years since then.

She also stays in the Golden Country after the end of the story, apparently working as an alchemist.

Additional Details (& Speculation):

What does she remember of her family and home?

I'd like to take a moment here to explore a little of what Rin might remember of her parents and home.

For reference, we can look at Kabru. The canaries came to Utaya when Kabru was 6, and he arrived in the capital when he was 7. He remembers the events of the tragedy in his home, and has some memories of his mother and life in Utaya, including memories of local dishes.

Rin lost her parents and home at 11, so she presumably has much clearer memories of the events that lead to her being taken by the elves... or she might, assuming that they haven't been completely blocked by her trauma from the event.

Yeah, I am fairly damn sure that she's got some memory issues from trauma and PTSD. For one, this is the state she was found in:

As already mentioned, she was also treated like something of an animal by the elves. She probably didn't have a lot of contact with other people, which would further perpetuate that sense of isolation and dehumanization. What I'm getting at here is that Rin probably didn't have much to help pull her out of this place, or heal these wounds. She had Kabru, who was also a kid and even younger than her, and she had herself.

Obviously trauma leaves different scars on everyone, and everyone responds and copes in different ways. But I do think it is interesting that we never hear anything about Rin's parents or life before the elves, and there are no real details about it given in the Adventurer's Bible the way we have for Kabru. What's presented is more surface level facts: they were refugees, they made a living with magic, they were killed.

I'm inclined to believe that things are laid out this way because that's how Rin holds on to these things. She knows things about them, but possibly remembers them more as things she was told/knows to be true, rather than actual memories she can picture herself experiencing.

Rin's Magic

In an interesting counterpoint to her potentially spotty memory, I do actually think Rin may have learned magic from her parents (or started learning, and was self-taught from there). She never attended a magic academy, and actually has a bit of grudge against people who did - owing to the social protection afforded to "upper-class mages," which her parents did not have. She also almost certainly wouldn't have been taught by the elves, who not only treated her as an animal but also knew her parents may have been involved with ancient magic.

Falin began to show signs of magical talent at 8, and was sent to the Magic Academy at 10, and that was as someone who had absolutely no guidance about or exposure to magic in her home town. Raised by two mage parents, I think Rin absolutely could have been learning some things by the time she was 11.

In terms of continued learning, I'll add that Rin is able to identify Marcille's magic as being A) from an Academy student, and B) cast by an elf:

This makes me think that she continued to study magic on her own while held by the elves, and probably even more so after leaving with Kabru. They didn't form the party until two years after they left the elves, which would give Rin plenty of time to try and learn from other adventurers on the Island, or to study up on her own. She'd probably be able to pick up some dungeon-crawling basics (like the water walk spell), as well as become familiar with the skill level and expression of skill common in different people with different backgrounds (hence why she is able to comment on the "textbook" academy wards).

Much like Marcille, Rin also seems to rely on a 'one size fits all' Big Boom method of dealing with monsters: lightning. We see the best example of its power in the fight with Chimera Falin:

But we also see her cast it pretty recklessly in a few other places, including the end credits of the new anime ED, which I think provides a good example of the downsides to such an approach...

Yeah, it is very much a 'get out of the way or get zapped' spell.

Especially since Marcille's offensive magic is self-taught and works very similarly, this definitely reinforces the idea that Rin figured most of this stuff out herself.

Outfit and Character Design

Dear sweet Rin of the Red And Black... how I love her design.

First of all, her clothes are damaged. Despite the fact that Rin looks relatively well put together overall, her outfit is worn out. I have some theories on why this is that I'll get to in a bit, but for now I'll just touch on what this design communicates in general about it.

I think, just like with Kabru's horribly messy room, it creates a sense that there is something more complicated underneath the surface. Something that isn't being addressed or seen to, just as the dress hasn't been mended or replaced.

It also reflects her not caring a ton about her appearance. She's neat, but she's not concerned about being pretty, so she doesn't bother with fixing up her outfit after her dungeon crawls. This also fits with her perpetual scowl (which I will talk more about in a bit), and slightly disheveled hair.

Next: the gloves. At first I thought they might be a sort of uncomfortable-with-touch thing, but after skimming through the manga and some bonus content, I have another theory. Rin takes the gloves off to eat, as well as a few other instances, such as when working on a spell with Holm and Marcille in chapter 36

This one is especially interesting because she has them on in the next chapter, during the fight with Falin. Since she also isn't wearing gloves during some of the Daydream Hour art of her outside of the dungeon, that leads me to believe that they are specifically for combat.

What does she need them for, though? Most other casters we see don't wear gloves. Well... just look at the other half of the page where she attacks Falin with lightning:

She is enveloped by this spell. I said it before was pretty reckless magic, but maybe its not just a problem for her teammates, but for her as well.

So here's my theory: maybe the gloves are rubber, or some other electricity-resistant material? They might help protect her from her own magic. I don't know why a caster would need gloves for combat otherwise.

I also think this might be why her dress is tattered at the bottom, by the way. Especially since the Daydream Hour genderswap design doesn't have a similar problem with his outfit, since the tunic isn't as long.

I will admit this is a bit of stretch/guess, but I think it's a fun one, and I wanted to share. I do think I'm right about the gloves being for dungeons/fighting specifically, at least. That seems pretty consistent throughout all of her appearances.

I also mentioned her scowl, so I'll touch on that briefly as well. The (fairly confirmed) explanation for Rin's expression is that she intentionally wears a frown to prevent her other expressions from showing through. I think it's important to emphasize that it's not just smiling that she is trying to suppress here - it's any strong emotion:

Anyway, because I can, here is the art of Rin smiling.

Rin and Kabru

I have talked a bit about Rin and Kabru's history, but I think it deserves its own section.

I think it's very interesting that Rin is pretty much the ONLY character in all of Dungeon Meshi that has explicit canonical romantic interesting in someone. It's literally part of the main summary sentence in her character profile.

This could be sort of reductive as a way to describe a female character (and in some ways it still is), but I think in part the simplicity and directness of it actually is part of what makes it so interesting. Especially when on the very next page we see the comic about her backstory. "This mage is in love with Kabru" -> one page of a horribly traumatic event and a child frozen in shock with no one to comfort her. What does that do?

Well, in my opinion, it shows how much Rin focuses on Kabru as something to keep her in the present. In contrast with the immense loss she has experienced, her love for Kabru is current and alive. He has presumably been her anchor for years, and I think that her love is part of that anchor.

Adding to this, in contrast with how explicit her feelings are, she never seems to actively pursue Kabru. She complains about his potential interest in other women, but she doesn't really flirt. She doesn't let herself smile around him any more than anyone else, and she doesn't hide her bitterness or anger from him to present a more appealing persona.

As much as she craves Kabru's attention, and has stayed by his side for years, I don't know that she really wants to possess him. He seems to know about her feelings, more or less, and she seems to know that he knows. Maybe she believes he doesn't reciprocate and is respecting that, maybe she's afraid of what she could lose if she tried to change things, or maybe the change itself frightens her. In any case, though she's not exactly happy with the way things are between them, she doesn't seem to be trying to change that status quo.

A specific thing I'd also like to talk about with their relationship, beyond Rin's love for him, is her fear for him. As the Adventurer's Bible puts it, "she worries that his knack for dealing with whatever life throws at him might lead him to get too full of himself and end up in serious trouble."

Rin is an interesting mix of restrained and explosive, herself. Her magic is destructive, her temper seems to run hot (she gets annoyed easily, at least), and her feelings for Kabru are apparent. At the same time, she doesn't let her emotions show on her face, she is the one who bluntly states that the group has hit the limit of their abilities, and she doesn't act on those obvious feelings for Kabru. It's interesting, then, that what she fears for Kabru is that he won't restrain himself.

And a small personal idea about that as well: I wonder if she somewhat blames her parents for getting killed. Again, this is very speculative, but I think it's interesting that her fear for Kabru is that he will get too full of himself. Take up too much space. It's never really stated what Rin thinks of her parents, but it can be easy in grief to search for control, and control often means blame. If they hadn't been so confident, so flashy, would they still be alive...?

I don't know if she's ever thought like that, and it could well be that her fears for Kabru come from a totally different place. But it's an interesting connective thread between her past and present - the idea of "getting in trouble" for taking up too much space and being too confident in one's own abilities.

Miscellaneous Tidbits:

On that note, I'd like to wrap up the main part of this post, and move on to a few extra things that I couldn't find another place for.

Rin plays with her hair when she's stressed

Using stressed as a pretty big umbrella here, because I think it's hard to perfectly pin down all the emotions at play, but it is a habit of hers. Best displayed in chapter 32, but it shows up in other places, too.

Her design contrasts with Marcille

This is a small thing, but I just love how much they are visual opposites.

Rin wears red and black and has dark hair, Marcille wears blue and white and has light hair. Marcille cares a great deal for her hair and puts it up in elaborate hairstyles, and Rin's is mostly loose and a bit messy. Marcille was even educated at the Magic Academy, which Rin dislikes. They both have little capelets. Also they both look very cute in each other's clothes.

Rin knows Flamela (and they meet again in canon)

Nothing much is done with this in canon, but I think it’s super interesting that Flamela's squad are the ones that find Rin as a child and take her away to the west, and then they end up stuck in the dungeon together for a bit.

Two days??? I'm so very curious what things were like between these three.

Aaaand I think that's all I have to say about Rin! For the time being at least. There's a lot more analysis that could be done about her and Kabru especially, but for this post I wanted to keep things at least somewhat anchored to canon facts, with only a layer or two of speculation on top.

If it isn't already obvious, I think Rin is a super interesting character with a ton of potential depth to explore. She mostly interacts with Kabru in canon, but has ties to a bunch of other characters: she and Marcille fill similar roles in their parties but have differing personalities and histories, she and Falin (and Laios) have been tremendously shaped by xenophobia and fear of magic common in the Northern Continent, her parents fled from conflict in the same region Shuro and his retainers are from, and she has history with Flamela and some of the second canary squad.

Her temper, her fear, her love... her repression and passion - they all inform her character, even in small ways, even with as little time as she spends on the page.

[cripplecharacters]

The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media

[large text: The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media]

If you followed this blog for more than like a week, you're probably familiar with “the mask trope” or at least with me complaining about it over and over in perpetuity. But why is it bad and why can't this dude shut up about it?

Let's start with who this trope applies to: characters with facial differences. There is some overlap with blind characters as well; think of the blindfold that is forced on a blind character for no reason. Here is a great explanation of it in this context by blindbeta. It's an excellent post in general, even if your character isn't blind or low vision you should read at least the last few paragraphs.

Here's a good ol’ tired link to what a facial difference is, but to put it simply:

If you have a character, who is a burn survivor or has scars, who wears a mask, this is exactly this trope.

The concept applies to other facial differences as well, but scars and burns are 99% of the representation and “representation” we get, so I'll be using these somewhat interchangeably here.

The mask can be exactly what you think, but it refers to any facial covering that doesn't have a medical purpose. So for example, a CPAP mask doesn't count for this trope, but a Magic Porcelain Mask absolutely does. Bandages do as well. If it covers the part of the face that is “different”, it can be a mask in the context used here.

Eye patches are on thin ice because while they do serve a medical purpose in real life, in 99.9% of media they are used for the same purpose as a mask. It's purely aesthetic.

With that out of the way, let's get into why this trope sucks and find its roots. Because every trope is just a symptom of something, really.

Roughly in order of the least to most important reasons...

Why It Sucks 

[large text: Why It Sucks]

It's overdone. As in — boring. You made your character visibly different, and now they're no longer that. What is the point? Just don't give them the damn scar if you're going to hide it. 

Zero connection with reality. No one does this. I don't even know how to elaborate on this. This doesn't represent anyone because no one does this.

Disability erasure. For the majority of characters with facial differences, their scars or burns somehow don't disable them physically, so the only thing left is the visible part… aaand the mask takes care of it too. Again, what's the point? If you want to make your disabled character abled, then just have them be abled. What is the point of "curing" them other than to make it completely pointless?

Making your readers with facial differences feel straight up bad. I'm gonna be honest! This hurts to see when it's all you get, over and over. Imagine there's this thing that everyone bullied you about, everyone still stares at, that is with you 24/7. Imagine you wanted to see something where people like you aren't treated like a freakshow. Somewhat unrealistic, but imagine that. That kind of world would only exist in fiction, right? So let's look into fiction- oh, none of the positive (or at least not "child-murderer evil") characters look like me. I mean they do, but they don't. They're forced to hide the one thing that connects us. I don't want to hide myself. I don't want to be told over and over that this is what people like me should do. That this is what other people expect so much that it's basically the default way a person with a facial difference can exist. I don't want this.

Perpetuating disfiguremisia. 

"Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk

[large text: "Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk]

It's quick when compared to my average facial difference discussion post, bear with me please.

Disfiguremisia; portmanteau of disfigure from “disfigurement” and -misia, Greek for hatred. 

Also known as discrimination of those mythical horrifically deformed people.

It shows up in fiction all the time; in-universe and in-narrative. Mask trope is one of the most common* representations of it, and it's also a trope that is gaining traction more and more, both in visual art and writing. This is a trope I particularly hate, because it's a blatant symptom of disfiguremisia. It's not hidden and it doesn't try to be. It's a painful remainder that I do not want nor need.

*most common is easily “evil disfigured villain”, just look at any horror media. But that's for another post, if ever.

When you put your character in a mask, it sends a clear message: in your story, facial differences aren't welcome. The world is hostile. Other characters are hostile. The author is, quite possibly, hostile. Maybe consciously, but almost always not, they just don't think that disfiguremisia means anything because it's the default setting. No one wants to see you because your face makes you gross and unsightly. If you have a burn; good luck, but we think you're too ugly to have a face. Have a scar? Too bad, now you don't. Get hidden.

Everything here is a decision that was made by the author. You are the one who makes the world. You are the person who decides if being disabled is acceptable or not there. The story doesn't have a mind of its own, you chose to make it disfiguremisic. 

It doesn't have to be.

Questions to Ask Yourself

[large text: Questions to Ask Yourself]

Since I started talking about facial differences on this blog, I have noticed a very specific trend in how facial differences are treated when compared to other disabilities. A lot of writers and artists are interested in worldbuilding where accessibility is considered, where disabled people are accepted, where neurodivergence is seen as an important part of the human experience, not something “other”. This is amazing, genuinely.

Yet, absolutely no one seems to be interested in a world that is anything but cruel to facial differences. There's no escapist fantasies for us.

You see this over and over, at some point it feels like the same story with different names attached.

The only way a character with a facial difference can exist is to hide it. Otherwise, they are shamed by society. Seen as something gross. I noticed that it really doesn't matter who the character is, facial difference is this great equalizer. Both ancient deities and talking forest cats get treated as the same brand of disgusting thing as long as they're scarred, as long as they had something explode in their face, as long as they've been cursed. They can be accomplished, they can be a badass, they can be the leader of the world, they can kill a dragon, but they cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to peacefully exist with a facial difference. They have to hide it in the literal sense, or be made to feel that they should. Constantly ashamed, embarrassed that they dare to have a face.

Question one to ask yourself: why is disfiguremisia a part of your story?

I'm part of a few minority groups. I'm an immigrant, I'm disabled, I'm queer. I get enough shit in real life for this so I like to take a break once in a while. I love stories where transphobia isn't a thing. Where xenophobia doesn't come up. But my whole life, I can't seem to find stories that don't spew out disfiguremisia in one way or the other at the first possible opportunity.

Why is disfiguremisia a default part of your worldbuilding? Why can't it be left out? Why in societies with scarred saviors and warriors is there such intense disgust for them? Why can't anyone even just question why this is the state of the world?

Why is disfiguremisia normal in your story?

Question two: do you know enough about disfiguremisia to write about it?

Ask yourself, really. Do you? Writers sometimes ask if or how to portray ableism when they themselves aren't disabled, but no one bothers to wonder if maybe they aren't knowledgeable enough to make half their story about their POV character experiencing disfiguremisia. How much do you know, and from where? Have you read Mikaela Moody or any other advocates’ work around disfiguremisia? Do you understand the way it intersects; with being a trans woman, with being Black? What is your education on this topic?

And for USAmericans... do you know what "Ugly Laws" are, and when they ended?

Question three: what does your story associate with facial difference — and why?

If I had to guess; “shame”, “embarrassment”, “violence”, "disgust", “intimidation”, “trauma”, “guilt”, “evil”, “curse”, “discomfort”, “fear”, or similar would show up. 

Why doesn't it associate it with positive concepts? Why not “hope” or “love” or “pride” or “community”? Why not “soft” or “delicate”? Dare I say, “beauty” or “innocence”? Why not “blessing”? “Acceptance”?

Why not “normal”?

Question four: why did you make the character the way they are? 

Have you considered that there are other things than “horrifically burned for some moral failing” or “most traumatic scenario put to paper”? Why is it always “a tough character with a history of violence” and never “a Disfigured princess”? Why not “a loving parent” or “a fashionable girl”, instead of “the most unkind person you ever met” and “total badass who doesn’t care about anything - other than how scary their facial difference is to these poor ableds”? Don’t endlessly associate us with brutality and suffering. We aren’t violent or manipulative or physically strong or brash or bloodthirsty by default. We can be soft, and frail and gentle and kind - and we can still be proud and unashamed.

Question five: why is your character just… fine with all this?

Can’t they make a community with other people with facial differences and do something about this? Demand the right to exist as disabled and not have to hide their literal face? Why are they cool with being dehumanized and treated with such hatred? Especially if they fall into the "not so soft and kind" category that I just talked about, it seems obvious to me that they would be incredibly and loudly pissed off about being discriminated against over and over... Why can't your character, who is a subject of disfiguremisia, realize that maybe it's disfiguremisia that's the problem, and try to fix it?

Question six: why is your character wearing a mask? 

Usually, there's no reason. Most of the time the author hasn't considered that there even should be one, the character just wears a mask because that's what people with facial differences do in their mind. Most writers aren't interested in this kind of research or even considering it as a thing they should do. The community is unimportant to them, it's not like we are real people who read books. They think they understand, because to them it's not complex, it's not nuanced. It's ugly = bad. Why would you need a reason?

For cases where the reason is stated, I promise, I have heard of every single one. To quote, "to spare others from looking at them". I have read, "content warning: he has burn scars under the mask, he absolutely hates taking it off!", emphasis not mine. Because "he hates the way his skin looks", because "they care for their appearance a lot" (facial differences make you ugly, remember?). My favorite: "only has scars and the mask when he's a villain, not as a hero", just to subtly drive the point home. This isn't the extreme end of the spectrum. Now, imagine being a reader with a facial difference. This is your representation, sitting next to Freddy Krueger and Voldemort.

How do you feel?

F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]

[large text: F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]]

As in, answers and “answers” to common arguments or concerns. 

“Actually they want to hide their facial difference” - your character doesn’t have free will. You want them to hide it. Again; why.

“They are hiding it to be more inconspicuous!” - I get that there are elves in their world, but there’s no universe where wearing a mask with eye cutouts on the street is less noticeable than having a scar. Facial differences aren’t open wounds sprinkling with blood, in case that's not clear.

“It’s for other people's comfort” - why are other characters disfiguremisic to this extent? Are they forcing all minorities to stay hidden and out of sight too? That’s a horrible society to exist in.

“They are wearing it for Actual Practical Reason” - cool! I hope that this means you have other characters with facial differences that don’t wear it for any reason.

"It's the character's artistic expression" - I sure hope that there are abled characters with the same kind of expression then.

“They’re ashamed of their face” - and they never have any character development that would make that go away? That's just bad writing. Why are they ashamed in the first place? Why is shame the default stance to have about your own face in your story? I get that you think we should be ashamed and do these ridiculous things, but in real life we just live with it. 

"Now that you say that it is kinda messed up but I'm too far into the story please help" - here you go.

“[some variation of My Character is evil so it's fine/a killer so it fits/just too disgusting to show their disability” - this is the one of the only cases where I’m fine with disability erasure, actually. Please don’t make them have a facial difference. This is the type of harm that real life activists spend years and decades undoing. Disfiguremisia from horror movies released in the 70s is still relevant. It still affects people today.

"But [in-universe explanation why disfiguremisia is cool and fine actually]" - this changes nothing.

Closing Remarks

[large text: Closing Remarks]

I hope that this post explains my thoughts on facial difference representation better. It's a complicated topic, I get it. I'm also aware that this post might come off as harsh (?) but disfiguremisia shouldn't be treated lightly, it shouldn't be a prop. It's real world discrimination with a big chunk of its origins coming out of popular media.

With the asks that have been sent regarding facial differences, I realized that I probably haven't explained what the actual problems are well enough. It's not about some technical definition, or about weird in-universe explanations. It's about categorizing us as some apparently fundamentally different entity that can't possibly be kind and happy, about disfiguremisia so ingrained into our culture that it's apparently impossible to make a world without it; discrimination so deep that it can't be excised, only worked around. But you can get rid of it. You can just not have it there in the first place. Disfiguremisia isn't a fundamental part of how the world works; getting rid of it won't cause it to collapse. Don't portray discrimination as an integral, unquestionable part of the world that has to stay no matter what; whether it's ableism, transphobia, or Islamophobia or anything else. A world without discrimination can exist. If you can't imagine a world without disfiguremisia in fiction... that's bad. Sad, mostly. To me, at least.

Remember, that your readers aren't going to look at Character with a Scar #14673 and think "now I'm going to research how real life people with facial differences live." They won't, there's no inclination for them to do so. If you don't give them a reason, they won't magically start thinking critically about facial differences and disfiguremisia. People like their biases and they like to think that they understand.

And, even if you're explaining it over and over ;-) (winky face) there will still be people who are going to be actively resistant to giving a shit. To try and get the ones who are capable of caring about us, you, as the author, need to first understand disfiguremisia, study Face Equality, think of me as a human being with human emotions who doesn't want to see people like me treated like garbage in every piece of media I look at. There's a place and time for that media, and if you don't actually understand disfiguremisia, you will only perpetuate it; not "subvert" it, not "comment" on it.

I hope this helps :-) (smile emoji. for good measure)

Mod Sasza

[ineffable-suffering]

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

This is Part 2 of 3 total metas. Here are:

Part 1, in case you want to read about my analysis of the Story of Job first

and Part 3, in case you're impatient and want to jump ahead.

Fair warning though, for the sake of understanding some of the references, you're probably better off reading this chaptered meta chronologically. However, every part should work just as well as a standalone! I'll do my very best to make it so.

Alright, off or on you go beyond the cutty cut!

I'll start this second part off with a very brief summary of the main take aways and points from Part 1, which go as such:

Memory, as opposed to a third party's narration, is not a factual, objective retelling of a story or event. It's mingled and mangled with emotions, imaginations and exaggerations, projecting both the feelings and impressions you had back then as well as those you might have now in the present time back on whatever it is you are remembering. (Which is why we need to put everything that Aziraphale is remembering into the context of what he might have felt in the past, as well as what he's feeling right now.)

While this doesn't mean his (or anyone's) memories are lies, it does mean they're a very subjective and sometimes factually distorted representation of what actually happened, which, in our case, gives us a lot of subtext and a lot of not-there furniture to figure out and look at.

So, let's continue with S2E3 and the Story of wee Morag. We start our flashback with a scene of Aziraphale writing his diary entry on the 10th of November, 1827. Immediately, it's firmly established that this is once again not an outside-point-of-view narration, but rather what Aziraphale remembers and wrote down.

One thing that immediately stuck out to me here, is how helpful and kind Crowley is to Elspeth, pretty much from the very beginning when they meet her in the graveyard. Not only does he take on a Scottish accent so she won't perceive him as English (as she does with Aziraphale), but he also helps her drag the barrel that has the fresh body in it and, in the end, even pulls it all by himself while Elspeth simply follows behind them. Here's a rather poor-quality picture, for reference:

Now, we know that despite not showing it very often, Crowley has always been very fond of the humans and never really put himself on a pedestal simply because he's an immortal being himself. He likes humans, just like Aziraphale does. But, just like this story will tell us, Crowley knows that on top of liking humans, you can't just put them into boxes of good and evil and expect them to always do what is supposedly the "right" or "divinely good" thing to do. (Which is what differentiates him from Aziraphale in the way he understands and treats them, as we're shown in this minisode).

Him immediately and unspokenly helping Elspeth with dragging the barrel therefore might also be a first sign of a tiny projection from present day Aziraphale, as opposed to what Crowley might have actually done (probably just walked beside her, like Aziraphale) because he has the knowledge that Crowley really was so very kind to her in the end, wasn't he? And that he's kind to humans in general. ("Not kind! Off my head on Laudanum!" Sure, babe.)

Most of this minisode, in my opinion, is actually there to establish how Aziraphale's view of morality and good vs. evil used to be quite flawed and elitist –– and how Crowley has always been there to gently nudge him towards questioning his black and white view of heavenly right and hellishly wrong. That's why I think there's not as many hints in this minisode about Aziraphale's memories not being an accurate portrayal of what happened, as there are in the Story of Job or the magic show in 1941. (And, fear not, the latter will definitely be the most hint-heavy one). Alas, there's still a few bits and bobs in the Story of wee Morag that stuck out to me, that make a brief yet good case of the whole unreliable narration thing.

First of all: The way Aziraphale describes all of it in his diary is so different from the way we see him actually remembering it. It's almost like he tried to write this entry (and possibly all of his diary) as a bit of a thrilling short story, with himself as the main character. Which makes sense, given the fact that he adores books and would certainly be keen on dabbling in the art of capital-w Writing himself. It's yet again hinting at the fact that sometimes people (and angels) try to polish and bedazzle stories (and memories) to make them seem more exciting and adventurous, often to distract from the not-so-fun parts of it.

Like when Aziraphale's diary narrates:

"It was with heavy heart we arrived at Elspeth's destination. I was determined to thwart her monstrous plan!"

... and yet we see Crowley and Elspeth casually walking down the alleyway, very obviously not heavy-hearted in the slightest, while Aziraphale nervously scurries on behind them, very obviously not determined to thwart. (Timestamp-wise, it's around 17:38 in S2E3, in case you want to see for yourself.)

We get another cinematographic/auditory hint at the fact that Aziraphale's memory is heavily influenced by what he's feeling that very moment, when Dr. Mister Dalrymple –– FRCSE, thank you very much –– shows him the tumor he removed from the seven year old boy. You can see the shock and horror on Aziraphale's face once he learns of this child's cruel fate. We then proceed to hear Mr. Dalrymple's voice grow sort of echo-y and far away as the sad music swells up and drowns out his voice almost completely. It's awfully similar to what it feels like when really horrible news are broken to you and you dissociate and drift into a state of shock. Here's the clip of it, so you may listen for yourself:

It's clear that this is a very subjective portrayal of what Aziraphale is going through during this part of the memory. He's deeply horrified and saddened about the little boy having passed away so early in life – and we hear and feel this shock with him. Through him, because this is his memory. Whatever it is he's feeling and thinking, we're feeling and thinking it too because we're seeing it through his lense.

Another (less sad) hint at a possible exaggeration is the abnormally deep hole Crowley makes the two graveyard watch keepers fall into. I'm pretty sure he's very much in charge of his miracles, making this random slip-up seem a little silly – which is why I'm also pretty sure the "Might have slightly overdone it on that hole" is a wee bit of a meta hint at this just being another one of Aziraphale's dramatic bedazzlements of this story. For the *flings feather boa around neck* drama!

You know what else might be exaggerated? Hm, I dunno, maybe Crowley growing into the size of a tree for no apparent reason. Sure, yes, he's pretty high on Laudanum which is making him a bit loopy. But apart from that, it does seem an awfully big cinematographic euphemism for him being the metaphorical (and, once again, for the drama of it) literal bigger person in this scenario. He's the one who ends up saving Elspeth and who manages to secure a safe life without poverty and grave robbing for her. While Aziraphale was so tangled up in his own moral journey and main character-ism, missing that wee Morag was seconds away from death already, Crowley is the one who actually ends up growing stepping up for the human in need and saving them for good (pun intended).

In a way, it might just be Aziraphale's view of/feelings for Crowley in this very moment. Watching the demon outgrow what, according to Aziraphale's heavenly logic, is supposed to be a foul fiend, bestowing evil upon humanity – and growing into someone who does the exact opposite and saves Elspeth instead. Another larger-than-life character development, in Aziraphale's eyes. Literally.

Let's switch back to the topic of the diary entry one last time, so I can make my final point of the this minisode's unreliable and a smidge over-dramatic narration of Dr. McFell. If you pay close attention, Aziraphale starts the entry we're all getting to experience with: "Last month, Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh." Which means it didn't actually happen on the 10th of November, but rather at some point in October, 1827. Once we see Crowley get hydro-pumped back to Hell after rescuing Elspeth, the minisode ends with, presumably, the last sentence of Aziraphale's diary entry: "And that was the last I would see of Crowley for quite some time."

Take my hand and let's look at where the furniture isn't: This very clearly means that Crowley couldn't have been gone for more than a month, at best. Read again: "It happened last month and that was the last I would see of him for quite some time." This, albeit indirectly, clearly implies that when Aziraphale had sat down to write the diary entry, he had already run into Crowley again. Otherwise his phrasing would have probably been more along the lines of "... and I haven't seen Crowley since" or "... and Crowley has yet to return from wherever it is Hell's currently keeping him".

What's the point I'm trying to make? Good question. I guess my main point of storyteller Aziraphale being a bit over-dramatic in his narration is simply backed up by this, since A Single Month would barely pass as "quite some time" for an immortal being like him. And yet that's how he puts it, in his little Confidential Journals of A.Z. Fell, Vol. 603.

And another point that has absolutely nothing to do with the topic of this meta (but I'm still gonna make it 'cause this is my memory post): The meeting at St. Jame's Park in 1862 that so many, post-S2, took to be their first run-in after the Story of wee Morag, actually wasn't that at all. They saw each other at least once only a month later, as Aziraphale's diary lets us know. Which explains why he wasn't very surprised or concerned when he met Crowley in London, 1862. If there really had been 35 years in between those two events, the first one ending with Crowley being sucked back Downstairs to receive more than three decades worth of hellish punishment, wouldn't Aziraphale have been at least a tiny bit worried or more interested than:

Just saying.

Alright, let's string this inflated hot air balloon of a post back together so we can outline some invisible furniture. This time with only two humble points:

Crowley through Aziraphale's lense Backed up by how we are introduced to Bildad the Shuhite in the Job minisode (suave, cheeky, smart, passionate in shoemaking and obstetrics), it's growing quite clear that Aziraphale's memories and impressions of Crowley are very fond and impressed ones. He sees him as someone who's not only witty, funny and cool, but also as someone who has figured out way sooner and faster than him that nothing's ever black and white. Not God's plans and not the human's choices either.

Aziraphale as a bit of an exaggerating adventure author With the direct parallel we get of inkslinger journalist!Aziraphale in the present day, it's quite apparent after this minisode that Aziraphale's memory is not only deeply influenced by his emotions, but that he also tends to have a bit of a dramatic touch to him. Although, you gotta give it to the guy: A month without seeing the love of your life, even if said life is eternal, can indeed seem like "quite some time".

Well, would you lookie here, we've reached the end of Part 2! What a journey it was. I hope you forgive me for the fact that I drifted off-course a few times. I just can't seem to reel in my silly little observations, even if they've got nothing to do with the point I'm trying to make. But hey, doesn't that just make me a little bit like Aziraphale's storytelling, in a way?

I'll let you be the judge of that.

See you in Part 3! And in case you haven't snuck a peak yet: here's Part 1 again.

Ta!

[skylarkspinner]

fiber art adventures in egypt

I recently got back from a trip to Egypt & finally got around to organizing some pictures to share. One of the things I was most excited about was seeing what I could find on fiber arts and textiles.

Dropping everything under a read more, 'cause this will be a long post haha

first visit: the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization (NMEC)

At the time of visiting, they had a special textiles exhibit. It covered Pharonic Egypt all the way up to modern times, although I only had time to check out the dynastic & a bit of the Coptic portion of the exhibit (which was what I was really hoping to see anyways)

Was super excited to see this diorama in person. I knew about it but had never seen good pictures of it. From the little I've seen of ancient Egyptian spinning, spinning with two spindles seems to be the norm rather than a master technique? It also shows up in tomb art, which the exhibit also shared:

They also used a different fiber preparation (splicing to create a rove of fiber, no traditional drafting to my understanding) so that probably made a difference? Regardless I really want to see if I can replicate the technique, especially because their spindles look so similar to modern spindles??

I took so many pictures of spindles, guys, and I fully intend to either have a few replicas made or to learn to make some myself. Also, although they were unlabeled... I'm pretty sure those are beaters for weaving? That was a bit of a trend with this trip, so much stuff was unlabeled :( I would've killed to at least get some date estimates for some of the stuff they had on display. I was nerding out in here though, and my family took a few pictures of how excited I was getting. A bit embarrassing, but eh haha

The exhibit also had a section on natural dyes used with a fun visual;

There was several diagrams specifically describing each dye source, but in the interest of not overloading on pictures I'll just list them out. For blues; woad, Yellows; turmeric, safflower, saffron, or yellow ochre; reds; madder, henna, pomegranate, and kermes. I originally thought kermes was another way to say cochineal, but it only seems to be distantly related.

next visit: Ramses Wissa Wassef Art Center

A small art center dedicated to hand-weaving wool and cotton tapestries. All of their work was museum quality & awe inspiring!!

Was even invited to their back rooms to watch a few of their weavers working; no I don't have room to put a room-sized loom anywhere but heck do I want one now

Our guide that took us through talked a bit about the natural dyes they use (all of their dyes are dyed in house with what they grow in their dye garden!!!) and got excited to hear I was also interested in natural dyes! He seemed a bit disappointed I'd never worked with indigo and. while indigo scares me, I'll take it as a sign that maybe I should try some time this year haha.

final visit; the Egyptian Museum

we really had to rush through this one which was a huge shame because it's packed full of artifacts. Also, the lighting in there is atrocious, so apologies for the not great pictures ahead.

They had a fascinating display of textile tools, more than what the NMEC had;

(Hand for size reference) I want all of these spindles! So badly! But a few of them look so much like a few of the spindles I own already?? A few of them had a spiraling notch, that's so cool? But also, what's going on with the one with two whorls? I have no idea. I'm fascinated.

Look at these whorls!! Although again, I'm a bit confused; the lack of labeling strikes again. Unsure why some of these "whorls" have two holes, or what the metal object with the wooden handle is. The display implies sewing needles, and some of them do look like it, but others.... really don't look like sewing needles. I'm absolutely enchanted by this little whorl though. I think it has birds on it?

More objects that I'm baffled by- the signage doesn't really indicate what some of this stuff is, if it's even known. Also confused by the object wrapped in white string in the right pic; it looks like a distaff but to the best of my knowledge the (ancient at least) Egyptians didn't use distaffs. It probably popped up in later times and was put in this display since it was still relevant, but I'm still not sure.

I have so many more pictures & thoughts but I'll save those for more specific future projects. I've been doing research outside this trip on ancient Egyptian spinning techniques and desperately want to go deeper into that, this trip just solidified how excited it makes me. If you made it all the way through this, many thanks for reading!

Bonus; look at this ancient linen 🥺

[queerfables]

A dash of nutmeg...

Look I feel a bit like I'm throwing soup at a dart board and calling it analysis, but I have some thoughts about Aziraphale's magic words in episode 4, and it's going to kill me if I don't share.

The thing is, these words have been nagging at me since I heard them. They sounded familiar, and I've been trying to figure out why. Today, it finally clicked.

Banana. Fish. Gorilla.

Those initial three words are all key words from Crowley and Aziraphale's drunken conversation about Armageddon. It's right at the start of things, when Crowley convinces Aziraphale to help him stop the world from ending.

We'll start with the fish, because they come up first.

"The point I'm trying to make," [Crowley] said, brightening, "is the dolphins. That's my point." "Kind of fish," said Aziraphale.

Their entire exchange here is hilarious and iconic but I'll try to keep this to the point. After some banter about the difference between fish and mammals, Crowley argues that dolphins don't deserve to be caught in the crossfire when the kraken rises and the seas boil. Which conveniently brings us to:

"Same with gorillas. Whoops, they say, sky gone all red, stars crashing to ground, what they putting in the bananas these days?"

Banana. Fish. Gorilla. It got me curious, so I searched for other places these words show up in the book. There's nothing I think is really significant: a couple of things are described as banana flavoured, fish show up in rains that herald the impending doomsday, gorillas aren't ever mentioned again. If I'm on the right track at all, I think this part is here to signpost a connection between this string of words from the show and the specific moments in the book.

If that's true, it must be pointing to something. What's left? Shoe lace and nutmeg.

Shoe lace.

The word "shoelace" isn't actually in Good Omens. Neither is "shoe lace" with a space in between. There's a couple of unremarkable descriptions involving shoes, and one miraculously conjured lace handkerchief, and then - and then. Right at the very end of the story, we have Adam, grounded by his parents, being described as "a scruffy Napoleon with his laces trailing, exiled to a rose-trellissed Elba". It's tenuous. I could dismiss that as nothing. Except Adam's laces show up again, and it's the very last passage of the book.

If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends. And if you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot . . . no, imagine a sneaker, laces trailing, kicking a pebble; imagine a stick, to poke at interesting things, and throw for a dog that may or may not decide to retrieve it; imagine a tuneless whistle, pounding some luckless popular song into insensibility; imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human . . . Slouching hopefully towards Tadfield . . . . . . forever.

I'm not ready to say much about what I think the significance of this passage might be. But an allusion to the book's ending does feel significant, doesn't it?

The one thing I will say, for people who may not know, is that this passage is riffing on a line from Orwell's 1984. The line it's playing on is a lot darker: "If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face – for ever." I think it's probably relevant that this is referencing a book about a totalitarian regime. I also think it's probably relevant that it's taking that reference and twisting it into something much sweeter, more optimistic and empowered.

I'm still thinking through all the connections and implications, though.

Nutmeg.

And that brings us to "nutmeg". I have to be honest, I wasn't hopeful. I didn't remember any references to it and if I were betting, I wouldn't have put money on it appearing in the book at all. But the word does show up, and it shows up exactly once. Crowley is reminiscing about a cocktail he had once, made out of fermented date-palms. It's part of a conversation with Aziraphale, where they discuss losing the Antichrist. And here's the really interesting part:

"You said it was him!" moaned Aziraphale, abstractedly picking the final lump of cream-cake from his lapel. He licked his fingers clean. "It was him," said Crowley. "I mean, I should know, shouldn't I?" "Then someone else must be interfering." "There isn't anyone else! There's just us, right? Good and Evil. One side or the other." He thumped the steering wheel. "You'll be amazed at the kind of things they can do to you, down there," he said. "I imagine they're very similar to the sort of things they can do to one up there," said Aziraphale. "Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly. "Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?" "Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-" "I meant afterwards." "Oh."

Book Aziraphale differs from his characterisation in the show in a few ways, and this is the big one. In the book, Aziraphale is much more cynical about his own side, and much more aware of heaven's flaws. Here, he's convincing Crowley that the threat heaven poses is just as serious as any threat from hell.

If I'm right about any of this, if these nonsense words mean anything at all, I think they are saying that heaven and hell are two sides of the same very nasty coin, and more to the point, that maybe Aziraphale is more aware of it than he seems.

I need to think about this more, still. I'm not sure if I really think this connection is something, and if it is, I'm still figuring out what sorts of conclusions we might draw from it. But if the script is trying to point us to these three sections of the book, maybe there's a deeper analysis to be had here.

I do think it's interesting that the last two words each only show up in one section of the book. It's not like I'm skipping around trying to decide which passage involving shoe laces is most relevant - it shows up twice, only in the last few pages of the book and only in relation to Adam (and in particular, humanising Adam. He's Napoleon in exile, but he's a kid with trailing laces. His future isn't a boot stamping on a human face, it's a sneaker with those same trailing laces - and a stick that his dog can choose whether or not to chase).

I could talk myself in circles on this point, so I guess I've got to open it up to the floor. Am I making something out of nothing with this? Or do you think there could be something here?

[feelbokkie]

i'll be here for you

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: sick fic, angst

pov: 2nd person

description: Seungmin can tell instantly from your voice that something is wrong, so he drops everything to take care of you.

pairing: bf!seungmin x gn!reader

warnings: hospitals, swearing, mentioning of food and eating, open ending, talking about weight, reference to death

word count: 3,054

a/n: allow me to be self indulgent and dramatic and over exaggerate for a moment.

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

Mong, mong. Mong, mong. 

You sluggishly pull your phone out of your pocket, sitting as you do so. You let out a long, shaky sigh before plastering on a smile and answering the phone. You’re not sure why. It’s not like he can see your face through the phone. But maybe smiling will trick the rest of your body into thinking everything is okay.

“My Seungminnie!” You cheer into the phone, your face winces in pain from the sudden movement.

“Hi Y/n,” You can picture the small smile that’s slowly creeping onto his face vividly. “Did you just get home?”

“No,” you lean your back against your headrest. “I got home earlier than I thought I would. I read the end time on my schedule wrong.”

You can hear the chaos in the background. Changbin’s voice booms over everyone as he yells about something to do with Minho and Hyunjin. You can make out Felix’s faint laughter too. “You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt practice. If I called you, you would have worried. How’s dance practice?”

“Hmm, Minho hyung has glared at Chan hyung twice, put Hyunjin in a headlock, and threatened all of us with various cooking styles about six times. He’s going to be sending me to you as soup.”

“Soupmin doesn’t sound too bad. Tell him to send side dishes,”

“Speaking of which, did you have a good lunch today?”

“I did,” You lie. “What about you? Did Minho let you eat or is he punishing you guys for not picking up the choreography?”

“We nailed 2 songs so he treated us. I had kimchi-jjigae!”

“You’re going to turn into kimchi-jjigae at this rate. You had it almost every day this week.”

“You just said you’d like Soupmin! ...Ugh, hyung, get off,” you hear a loud slap and some more laughter through the phone. The background laughter and chatter quickly becomes distant. “Sorry, Chan hyung lives in my bubble. What did you have for lunch?”

Click!

You assume that Seungmin had enough of whatever is going on in the practice room and left to talk to you somewhere peaceful. “Just some leftovers... I had some rice from dinner a couple of days ago so I make kimchi fried rice with some chicken.”

Seungmin is quiet on the other end for a second, “What did you really have?”

“I just told you,” You sit up, shifting your phone to your other hand and pressing it against your ear again.

“You’re hiding something. A couple of days ago you said you had pasta. What did you have for lunch today?”

“Kimchi—“ You double down.

Seungmin lets out a loud sigh, “This is a silly thing to lie about. You know that, right?”

“I’m not—“ You pause as the pain in your stomach reminds you that it's still there. “Fine, I just had some soda for lunch.”

“That’s all?”

“I told you, I wasn’t working as long as I thought—“

“You’re not eating properly and I can tell by your voice that you aren’t sleeping properly... Are you sick?”

“Probably,” You give up. When Seungmin has his mind set on something, it's difficult to argue with him.

“What do you mean ‘probably?’”

You bite your lower lip and run your free hand through your hair. “It’s nothing,”

“What’s going on?” It's subtle, the way his voice wavers with worry. If you weren't tuned into most of his habits, you would have missed it.

“Seungmin—“ You try to say calmly, wincing in pain as you lean back down against your headrest.

“Don’t try to lie or play it off. Something is wrong,” His voice raises an octave. You're not sure you can remember the last time he even slightly raised his voice at you. Even in a joking manner.

“…Fine." You squeeze your eyes shut, your current position only worsening your pain. "I just haven’t been feeling well lately.”

“What do you mean?”

You pause, contemplating how much you actually want to tell him right now. “My stomach gets upset. It’s fine though, probably just a bug.”

“And it’s causing you to not eat or sleep?”

“It only hurts after I eat. Well, it hurts in general now but if I eat it hurts a lot. Except for pho for some reason. But I can’t eat that all day every day,” You try to sound light and calm so that he doesn't worry more than he already is.

“You said 'now.' How long has it been hurting?”

“A while,” You mumble, playing with the hem of your shirt.

There's more movement in the background. You hear a faint scoff before you hear Seungmin huff as he presses the phone to his ear again.

“Have you gone to your doctor?”

“I called. They can’t see me until next month. But they said they’ll call me if a closer appointment comes.”

“Urgent care?” He suggests.

“They’ll just have me sit in the waiting room for hours and then spend 5 minutes with me before prescribing me antibiotics. Which is good and all but I know that's going to do fuck all if I can't even eat with the pills.”

“If it’s that bad, they’ll prescribe you something else.”

“Unlikely,”

You can practically hear the gears turning in Seungmin's head on the other end while he tries to come up with another solution for you. You're almost certain he's come up with all the same solutions that you have, none with promising enough results.

“What about the emergency room?" He tries again.

“For a stomach bug?” You chuckle, holding your stomach to attempt to control the apparent throbbing your stomach.

“A stomach bug wouldn't last that long. And you're not eating or sleeping. I don't know what else to do." His voice cracks. He's not trying to mask the panic in his voice for your sake anymore. He sounds as scared as you feel inside.

You squeeze your eyes shut again and rub your free hand over it. "Let's say I agree with you taking me to the emergency room. We'll still be there for hours--"

"I'm a pro idol. Plus my mom is a doctor,"

You've never known Seungmin to abuse his privilege as an idol, even at times when he should have. Especially when he should have. The fact that he's even insinuating that he'll use that part of his life if it'll help you is both heartwarming and intimidating.

"Don't involve your mom in this--Look, it's fine. I'm fine."

"It's not--" You hear Seungmin mumble a string of swear words that you're not sure you've heard him utter before.

"Seungmin? Hello?"

The background noise starts up again. This time, you hear Jisung scream singing loudly in the background as Hyunjin laughs. You hear some rustling in the background and finally a zipper. You pick up Chan's concerned voice, low and deep as chaos ensues in the background. You hear Seungmin tell him that he has to go, 'a family emergency' he explains. And then you hear Minho's soft voice as the noise in the background dies down. And then more rustling and zippers before the faint yet familiar jingling of keys.

"Seungmin!" You call out again, hoping he can hear you now that the room is quieter.

You hear a faint, 'one second' from Seungmin before he clears his throat, "I'll be there in about 20 minutes. Get your stuff ready."

Click

He hangs up before you can even try to argue with him that he doesn't need to leave practice to check on you. You let out a long shakey breath as you toss your phone on the bed and let yourself slump over from frustration.

***

"I can't believe you called your mom," You mutter under your breath.

Your arms rest firmly across your chest as you sit up on the examination bed in the emergency room. Seungmin sits at the foot of the bed, watching your every move. Like you would try to bolt if his eyes left you for even a second. You've thought about it.

"If you saw how pale you looked, you would have done the same thing. What did you want me to do?"

He looks so unlike himself. This is the first time you've seen him so disheveled, even after a dance practice. His usually neat hair points in all different directions from him running his hands through it. His windbreaker is zipped all the way up to hide his wrinkly, sweaty t-shirt. His face is darker than it normally is, showcasing whatever is running through his mind.

"Not call your mom!" You whisper. The emergency room beds don't offer you much privacy, only a curtain separating you from other beds. There's been a man screaming in pain in one of the makeshift rooms since you walked in. "I told you specifically not to,"

The sterile stench and bright lights from the room are starting to make your head spin. You feel bad taking up a bed when you know some people need to be examined more than you.

"I'm sorry but if you saw me in the state you're in, trust me, you would be calling anyone who could help. You lost a lot of weight too. I don't think I can even pinch your cheeks without it hurting you."

"You're overreacting," You scoff, rolling your eyes.

"You look like a sickly Victorian child,"

"Seung--"

Swoosh

Seungmin quietly gets up from his spot on the bed and stands next to you, resting his hand on your shoulder. Your doctor from earlier walks back in, nurse behind him this time. Her forced smile does nothing to distract from the dark bags under her eyes. You can tell how exhausted she is just by looking at her. She looks how your brain feels.

"I just finished talking with my attending. We both agree that you may have an ulcer. However, we cannot be sure without further testing. You have a few options but we recommend..."

You started to zone out, relieved that their first suspicion is an ulcer and not something more serious. An ulcer is treatable and the fatality rate is relatively low, based on what you read when you first started feeling sick.

"...admit you."

"Excuse me?" You tilt your head to the side, confused about what you just heard. You feel Seungmin's grip on your shoulder tightens, nails practically digging into your shoulder.

"Like I said, we do have a few other concerns so we believe it's best to admit you while we run a few more tests to be certain." The doctor repeats.

"But you just said that it's most likely an ulcer." You uncross your arms, your hand instinctively reacting for Seungmin. He grabs your hand with his free hand, refusing to let go of your shoulder.

"Yes, but some of the symptoms you're experiencing also align with other ailments so we would like to admit you for a couple of days while we do thorough tests," she explains, flipping through the papers on her clipboard.

You turn to Seungmin, whose face is clamped shut and eyes are fixed on the doctor. He's been doing well, keeping his composure for your sake, but now he looks as pale as you probably do. You try to focus your breathing so that maybe, just maybe, your heart will stop threatening to pound out of your chest. If it does, however, you're in the perfect place.

Seungmin's hand slides down from your shoulder to your back, rubbing soothing circles as he continues to talk to the doctor. You can't hear what he and the doctor are talking about, your ears are acutely aware of the swooshing of the blood from your heart.

You wanted it to be nothing. It's one of the main reasons why you put it off so long, playing it off as common stomach issues so you wouldn't have to go to the doctors and have them find something wrong with you. But it's inevitable now. There is something.

"It'll be okay," Seungmin whispers. Normally, you can read him like a book, but right now, you can't tell if he's reassuring you or himself.

~~~

You stare at the words on your phone, absorbing none of them as music plays loudly from Seungmin's headphones. You can't even register what song is playing right now, your mind too full with thousands of thoughts plaguing every quiet second you have.

Seungmin left you his headphones and phone charger before he left to get you some things from home. He stayed a while, being a quiet yet comforting presence while you got admitted. He sat, holding your hand as a nurse drew your blood, humming softly to distract you for a little bit.

He didn't want to leave. Not at first, but the two of you quickly realized that you couldn't ask anyone to get what you needed from your apartment. Seungmin has the only remaining key and you argued that it would be too much to ask one of the boys to come to the hospital to pick it up, get what you need from your room, and then come back to the hospital. So Seungmin went himself.

You were put into a private room, which you know is probably Seungmin's doing, but right now, you would prefer to be in a shared room. Just for the comfort of knowing that you're not the only person in the room.

Hot tears roll down your face, as your mind plays all the worse possible scenarios like a movie. You can't skip it, each scene is worse than the first, stressing you out more. You rest your head on the TV tray, trying to get your body to stop shaking and the images from popping into your head.

"Y/n?" You feel the cool air rushing to your ears and Seungmin's panicked voice, "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

He sets down the bags in the chair next to your bed and tries to get you to lift your head so he can see your face.

"N-no. I mean, yeah it hurts, but that's not why I'm crying." You whimper, lifting your head and looking at Seungmin through tears.

You can't see it, how red and swollen Seungmin's eyes are. Even if you did, you know he'd tell you a little white lie about allergies. You hate how this is affecting him. It's one of the reasons why you didn't tell him in the first place. Because you knew he wouldn't be able to do anything to help, no matter how much he wanted to. You don't even want to think how badly he'll suffer if it's something serious.

"It's okay to be scared," Seungmin whispers. The remainder of the sentence lingers in the air between the two of you. Unspoken but understood.

It's okay to be scared. I am too.

"What if it's something serious? And I waited too long and,"

Another unfinished sentence that doesn't need to be completed for the two of you to understand, this one heavier than the last. Its weight quickly soaking up all the oxygen and light in the room, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it's whatever has been slowly killing you from the inside finally putting you out of your misery.

"Maybe it's a parasite," Seungmin suggests, his normally steady voice breaking. You finally look up to face your boyfriend. You're bet with the top of his head as he's turned away from you, looking at the ceiling. His hair is neater than it was before, still slightly wet. He's now wearing a light grey hoodie with matching sweatpants.

"That's disgusting," You sniffle, a smile smile appearing on your face.

Seungmin, still not looking at you, lets out a loud and long sigh. "But you're smiling, right?"

"Because you're an idiot,"

"A smile is a smile. I'll take it."

Seungmin tilts his head down and rubs his sleeve-covered hands over his face before turning his attention to you. His eyes are glassy and red. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at the sight of him.

"It'll be okay," You whisper, taking Seungmin's hand in yours. It's more for your comfort than his.

"Whatever it is, I'll be here. Okay?" Seungmin says loudly, squeezing your hand tightly. "So lay your burdens on me,"

"I can't ask you to do that. You're getting ready for a comeback--"

"You think I would be able to focus on that if you're...if something is wrong with you?"

"I've seen you seen you separate Kim Seungmin the idol from Kim Seungmin my boyfriend."

"Yeah, when we're having a fight or something. But not for things like this. I already talked to Chan hyung. I didn't tell him everything, but he understands that you need me right now."

"Seungmin..." Your voice falters, any argument you could think of dies in your throat.

But he's right, you do need him. You've been shouldering the burden of your pain alone for too long, you're not sure how much longer you can last. He was gone for one hour and you completely fell apart. And that was just at the thought that it might be something serious.

"I have to call my parents," You breathe, calming down a little bit.

"I can help you with that," Seungmin replies softly.

"And I need to let my boss know I can't come in."

"I'll help with that too,"

"...But right now, I kinda just want to lay down with you,"

"I can do that too," Seungmin gently climbs into the hospital bed next to you, carefully watching the IV in your hand.

Once he's settled, he pulls your head down onto his chest. You freeze for a moment. It's not usual for Seungmin to initiate physical contact like this. Especially when a nurse can walk in at any moment. But the slight tremble of his body and the pounding in his chest let you know that he probably needs this more than you, so you relax into his touch.

"I love you, Y/n," He mumbles out, just like he did the first time he said it.

"I love you too, Seungmin," You breathe into his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

"I'm here," He says loudly this time. "It'll be okay,"

"I know,"

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[xfancyuu]

~ now i draw a luxury nxde. [aemond targaryen] 18+ SMUT

because it's the beginning of spring i wanted to post for that so in universe it is also warm and flowers are blooming! reader is afab with she/her pronouns & my requests are open! this could be read as though it's in the same universe as my other bolton!reader works, though she's married to aemond and is referred to as lady targaryen. there are no appearance indicators in this fic, this is kinda canon divergence. also i didn't bold the dialogue for this one and i actually think i'm gonna go and reformat my other fics to match! this fic is also known as frolicking and fucking so yeah that's what you're in for. smut will be indicated with a different coloured line break if you do not wish to read it. [1,757 words]

this fic contains: wall sex, public sex, dressed sex, choking, spitting, voyeurism, name-calling, corruption kink, attempted dirty talk? y'all are just newly married and experimenting tbh, y'all degrade each other, slight orgasm denial, cumming inside. if i missed any please lmk!

You had never imagined life as a married woman to be so blissful. You had heard from the ladies in court that they simply did their marital duty and did not enjoy spending time with their husbands. They had told you that the bliss would wear off within the year once you had children, and they would steal your beauty.

You had all but rolled your eyes at their commentary. They were rude and bitter, seeking your own mood to be as equally unhappy as their own. They nitpicked at everything you did, from reading too much to what you ate and how you conducted yourself. Loneliness truly was more appealing than spending ceaseless amounts of time with women who were your mother's age and almost as bitter. Being surrounded with unmarried women was improper, they had told you — not that you paid them mind, as your ladies in waiting were all unmarried and far better company.

You found yourself in the gardens with your ladies-in-waiting more often than not, the weather was pleasant, and you'd much rather be outside than wallow inside without much joy. Flowers had brought you much more joy than you had anticipated, they livened your mood from the dreaded time spent with the married ladies in court. They wouldn't be seen outside without reason, whereas you did not care much for the opinions and thoughts of others in court, despite being a Princess.

The book within your lap had become much more interesting than whatever your ladies were gossiping about, you hadn't cared much for the people they were talking about, but the adventure of Lady Sunderland and her times in the Reach were too addictive to put down. Your ladies' had tried to gain your attention one too many times, but you were too engrossed in the book to care for the outside world.

The book was abruptly taken from your hands, making you both lose the page you were ready and had caused your brain to be hazy. You were both mad and irritated by the actions of someone clearly trying to ruin your day. "Do you mind?" You had asked, not expecting to see your husband as you looked up.

"Is it a crime for me to want to spend time with my wife?" Aemond had asked you, extending his hand as if expecting you to take it despite disturbing your peace.

"It's a crime when you snatch my book off of me and expect me to be happy about it." You retorted, deciding it was probably better to go along with him, and took his help to get off the grass. "Lucky for you, I like you enough not to lock you up."

"Oh how merciful." Aemond responded, not removing your hand from his grasp, "the flowers are blooming, you should be looking at the world instead of living in your books."

"I'll have you know I can do both equally," You retorted, leading Aemond away from the prying eyes and sharp ears of your ladies, "Now you're here you might as well keep me company if you won't let me read, perhaps a walk around the garden would do us both some good."

"I have a better idea than touring the gardens," Aemond had pulled you into a secluded pathway leading away from the hustle and bustle of everybody else.

"Your ideas always end up with us in trouble." You weren't entirely wrong, the disapproving look of Queen Alicent would be forever engrained in your brain.

"They may be troublesome, but you always have fun." You couldn't disagree, instead you simply followed Aemond to whichever location he wanted to show you.

Aemond had abruptly left you in the morning, leaving you needy and begging for him to finish the job he'd started yet he had left you without a thought for your own well-being. You could somewhat blame your crankiness and willingness to do such a deviant act in public with the possibility of anybody seeing and reporting such acts to the Queen.

The thought that you shouldn't be doing this had crossed your mind — the words would not leave your mouth though, you had wanted to do this, neediness had seeped in, with your skirts and underclothes raised above your waist, your modesty was damned and so were you.

The carnal need and desire you felt within yourself had put all your thoughts out the window, if you were in your usual mind frame you would have told Aemond no, that it was improper but words would not form in your throat. Instead, you kissed him back with almost as much longing.

The insatiability you had felt was consuming you, yet it felt more so annoying, Aemond hadn't truly done anything to you to make you feel this way, little touches and long stares did not warrant you feeling so flustered by the man so much you'd let him take you any which way he wanted.

You were expecting the current position you were in — being in public had never been a boundary you crossed with each other, yet he had so little patience when it had come to you, not even checking if the garden was secluded enough not to have prying eyes follow you, "Who knew my lady wife could be such a whore?" Aemond had whispered in your ear, though you could not form words of your own, "Wanting me to take her right now with not a care in the world who witnesses it."

"I think you can only get your cock up with the thought of an audience, you leave me so frustrated when we're alone in our chamber."

"You may come to regret that, wife." Aemond had always had to get the last word, "Your tongue may be sharp, but I will fuck you until you can't form another sentence." He'd begun unlacing his trousers, and you truly knew you were in for it — whatever it entailed, you weren't sure.

"You keep saying what you're going to do, but you haven't even stuck it in yet, tell me husband, are you struggling? Do you need me to help you stick it in? Can you not find the hole?" You couldn't finish your light-hearted taunting Aemond had entered you with little care, it was sloppy and lustful as though he felt as much need as you did.

You couldn't stay quiet, not with how intoxicating Aemond had felt inside, thrusting himself as far as he could inside of you, the slow pace was comfortable but irritating, you wanted it fast and hard, you wanted Aemond to show you the side of himself he hid away, the side which would make you blush if you so much as thought about it.

You were so used to being in control, Aemond had ensured you always felt comfortable and could stop at any moment but seeing him so dominant had made you tingle, then gasp as you felt a hand around your throat. "You've got to be quiet, you don't want the world to hear you, do you? Don't want the world to hear what a whore you become for cock."

The sight of your ladies seeing you in such a position had the opposite effect than what you thought it would, the idea of corrupting them as much as you had been corrupted had you clenching around Aemond's cock.

"Not so fast, princess," Aemond spoke, his pace slowing and causing the momentum and build-up to your own orgasm to be depleted. "Good girls get to cum, you've not been a good girl, have you?"

You couldn't respond, the hand wrapped around your throat had become tighter, "Going to cum inside you, princess, have you got a problem with that?" You had tried to shake your head, but with the grip Aemond had on your throat, your head hadn't moved an inch.

Aemond had increased his speed, and you knew he was close to his own peak despite ruining your own, the pettiness within you had decided if you didn't get your release neither was Aemond. As if sensing your plans, Aemond thrust into you harder, keeping you in place as though you were a doll he could do what he pleased. "You're going to take my seed, and you're going to thank me for it."

Your orgasm was too sudden for you to realise what was happening, from the words Aemond spoke to the way he was fucking you, it was far too much to process and your body reacted entirely by itself. You knew disobeying Aemond would have consequences but in the depth of your own pleasure and Aemond continuing to fuck you, you didn't care. You'd take any punishment to feel a moment of the pleasure you were currently feeling.

"Naughty girl." Aemond whispered in your ear as you came down from your high, "I thought you'd finally be a good girl, though I suppose I set my standards too high for you. Open your mouth."

You did as he commanded, not wanting to make him more upset with you. However, you weren't prepared for him to spit in your mouth — or to like it as much as you did. "You belong to me and you do as I say."

It hadn't taken long for Aemond to spill his seed within you, his grip on your throat loosening and his teeth biting into your skin. It wasn't often you had allowed him to cum inside you — the prospect of what would follow being in the forefront of your mind. "I'm yours." You reassured Aemond as he came down from his climax.

"Are you okay there?" You had asked, not used to such an intense reaction from Aemond, "I really enjoyed myself." You reassured him, you were so close and the euphoria of the situation had you cradling Aemond within your arms.

"It was just a bit... much, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, pulling out of you. At that moment, you knew you'd need to bathe. The feeling of his seed coming out of you had you almost recoiling.

"Trust me, you'd know if you were hurting me." You didn't want to approach the subject of being witnessed in such an act. "Your mother may be expecting more grandchildren soon."

"Moontea exists, my dear." You hadn't been married a year yet, it wasn't entirely suspicious that you had not shown signs of being pregnant. "And for what it's worth, I enjoy our time just being the two of us."

as always, thank you for reading this! i really appreciate it. i really enjoy writing for aemond so if y'all have any requests send them my way. my next hotd fic will be for helaena so if that interests you just message me! crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism!

[toxicanonymity]

Jailbird.

1.5k / Cellmate’s nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader

thank you @iamasaddie for the mood board!!!

PART 2 HERE: Collect calls

Summary: Your cellmate introduces you to her hot nephew and he comes to visitation hours. A/N: Part 1 of 3. This one is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes and @raccoonhandedhottie's nerve to put the idea of doing one in my head. My masterlist WARNINGS: References to sex work, ACAB. Horny phone/visitation talk, mild/non-explicit over-pants masturbation. Mickey Avalon Easter egg.

Without Mabel, you're not sure how you would've survived your first six months in lock-up. You were cuffed for solicitation when a dirty cop wouldn't pay what he owed.  He says he took it easy on you -- you also clawed him and spit in his face.  As soon as you told your new cellmate what really happened, she took a liking to you. She said you should've bitten him in the pecker.   Mabel had been there, done that. She even knew of the cop who put you away.  It wasn't Mabel's first time behind bars. She had the ink and reputation to prove it. Her knuckles said "TAKE NONE" and that was accurate.  By now, nobody gave her any shit. Soon enough, no one gave you any either. 

Mabel had a few photographs on her wall, mostly of her and a younger man. Not a particularly young man, but certainly younger than Mabel. He was probably in his early forties in the pictures, which were five years prior, before she violated her parole. She was giving you a poke and stick tat of a four leaf clover on your hand one day when you asked about the pictures. 

"I was wonderin' when ya were gonna ask about my lil Jojo. I've seen ya lookin' at him, ya little horndog..." 

She let you stammer around in response. "No, I, I'm just, making conversation, wanna get to know you better." 

"It's okay, baby. He's my nephew. All I got left. He's a neat kid."

"He looks happy to be with you–ouch!"

"Don't be a pussy. Oh, he's a real sweet boy. Bet he'd like you, too."

"What makes you say that?"

She looked up from your hand "cause ya got a cunt and you're not bad lookin'," she laughed. "Hey,” she raised her eyebrows. “You ever wanna borrow one of those pics, you let me know, I'll give ya some privacy."

"No thanks."

"Oh, come on. You can fold it so ya don't have to see my pretty face." 

You laughed. 

"Bet he'd dick ya down real good, too."

"What?" You asked, quietly disturbed. 

"He lives with me. Walls are thin." 

"Ah. That must be awkward."

"Not really! We're all human. I could even tell ya the kinda shit he says if ya want. He can get real filthy.  Or shit, I could just give ya his number."

"That's ok."

"Baby, he'd love to hear from ya. Trust me. I've told him all about ya." She put down the needle and picked up a tissue to dab your skin. 

"You have??"

"Oh yeah. Here, I'm gonna write it down." 

She took one of the photos off the wall and wrote his number on the back. Then she folded it in half and winked at you as she handed it to you. 

—----------------

It only took a week of her nagging for you to call “Jojo.” 

Your breath hitched when you heard his smooth, deep voice. The first thing he said was, “Ah, call me Joel,” and you could hear the smile on his face. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Well your aunt’s told me a lot about you, Joel.” 

“Yeah, I can only imagine what,” he faux grumbled. “Real character, ain’t she?”

“I love Mabel,” you blurted out. 

You found yourself opening up about how in some ways, she was more of a mother figure than you ever had.  Joel was easy to talk to. It just came pouring out. You told him about Mabel’s antics and the mischief the two of you got up to. Things you’d steal from the cafeteria. The way Mabel kept the ladies in line who tried to dom you. Next thing you knew, your time was up.  You apologized profusely for talking Joel’s ear off about yourself. 

“Nahhhh, it was nice,” Joel said. “Hell of a lot more interesting than my life.”

“Well it was good talking to you,” you told him. 

He said, “Hey, call me back any time.”

There was nothing sexy at all about that first conversation, but his voice did something to you.  You squeezed your thighs together when you got back to your cell and looked at the photo. Mabel kept giving you a knowing look. 

—------

You started calling Joel regularly.  Mabel told you he liked you a lot, but you weren’t sure if you should believe her. She seemed overly eager to set him up. The conversations were brief and casual. When you didn’t call him one week, the next time you spoke, he told you he missed the sound of your voice. 

Something came over you and you broke the tension. “My voice?” you asked. “Joel, your voice. . . you dunno what it does to me,” you blurted out. Zero to sixty, just like that. 

“Well damn,” Joel said. “Shoulda said somethin’. Coulda given ya better than stories about Mabel.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like whatever ya want, jailbird.” Your heart fluttered “Whatever gets ya hot and bothered.” 

“Honey, you could read me the phone book,” you told him. 

He chuckled. “Haven’t seen one of those in a few years.”  His voice was sexy to begin with but the sharp edge of the phone connection made it even hotter. 

After a moment of tense silence, he said, “Hey, uh, you notice any of your pictures missin’?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Mabel mailed me one. Didn’t tell me you were a fuckin’ smokeshow.”

You laughed bashfully. 

“Well she did. But I had to see it for myself, and shit”

“Well, thanks. You’re not bad looking yourself.” 

Your time was almost up. 

“Hey I’m comin’ to see Mabel later this week. Y’all got the same visitor’s night or what? Cause I’d love to see you, too, if it’s allowed.” 

“Nah, mine’s the next night.” 

“S’alright, i’ll come back for ya, sugar.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“I’ve gotta go.”

“I know. Be good, jailbird.” 

—--------

It was visitation day and you were getting nervous. Mabel thought it was adorable. She helped you get ready. Did your hair nice. “He’s already smitten with ya, baby,” she said. 

You were escorted into the visitation room and sat at one of the booths, separated by glass, with a phone on each side. 

When Joel came in, you didn’t recognize him at first.  In just those five years, his beard had turned half-silver.  He was striking in person.  He was wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans. Tight jeans. You couldn’t help but size up the bulge in them. 

When you looked up at his face, he was raising his eyebrows at you like he caught you looking.  He sat down and put his elbows on the table. You picked up the phone, a little nervous, but more excited than anything.  He checked you out and smiled at you coyly before picking up the phone. 

“Like what ya see?” he said softly into the phone. 

You replied with a low whistle, then asked, “You always dress like a piece of meat?” He had a few hand tattoos of his own. Faded, blurred together. A spade between his thumb and forefinger. A spiderweb curving around one of his biceps. He’d probably done his own time. 

“When the hell are ya gettin’ outta here?”

“Up for parole next month,” you said. 

“No shit!” He looked genuinely excited. 

“Mabel didn’t tell you?”

“Thought she was yankin’ my chain.” He stretched his free hand behind his head and you watched his bicep.  “You been good? Think you’ll get out?” 

“Haven’t been bad.” 

“Good.” He lowered his voice. “‘Cause sugar, I’m gonna need to see what’s under that garb.”

You smiled with faux shyness, and he continued, “God damn,” looking at you like a juicy leg of lamb. 

You stared at each other, checking each other out for a moment. You watched his pupils dilate as your chest rose and fell with desire. 

You made small talk for a minute or two, all the while fucking each other with your eyes. But, things took a turn again.

“What do you miss the most?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. “Bet ya don’t miss the clients.” 

You shook your head. 

He lowered his voice further. “When’s the last time ya had a nice hard cock ya really wanted?”

Your eyes widened. “Shit, I dunno.” 

“Ohhh you’re in for it.” You looked around, paranoid, in disbelief that you could get away with a conversation like this. “Ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” He reached his hand into his lap. “Fuck. ‘specially for you.” You could see his arm moving very slowly but there was no mistaking what he was doing.  His eyes devoured you.

“Joel,” you sighed. “Fuck, I believe it.” 

And just like that, a guard approached him from behind. “Time’s up,” the guard said and glared at you.  You rolled your eyes as a guard approached you, too.

Joel said “Later, jailbird” and hung up the phone.  When he stood up, his massive erection was visible and made your heart skip a beat.  You glanced up to his face and he was wetting his lips. He winked at you with pink cheeks and your eyes immediately fell back to his crotch as he adjusted himself and the guard hurried him away. 

FUCK. You were gushing. Mabel’s Jojo. Joel. What a man.

---------

Part 2

Ty for reading. strip club manager!Joel will be an alternate timeline of this Joel set in the past while Mabel was on parole. DIFFERENT READER. preview

this trope actually gave me so many more elaborate ideas lmao.

------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret