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lovelyhan · 2 years

Text

— underlying pretense ⟢

pairing: wonwoo x reader

summary: being two of the most popular streamers across the board, your subscribers often speculate if your constant bickering with wonwoo has some underlying pretense. little did they know, the two of you have everything on display on a single, unsuspecting twitter account.

word count: 10.3k words

tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers but it's the thought that counts, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, smut

warnings: wonwoo n reader run a shared porn account bc they're filthy like that, alcohol consumption, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: thank you sm for giving the teaser some love! this was just supposed to be pwp filth but...it grew itself a plot :| it also has some valorant jargon here and there but i'll come clean and say i've never played a second of that game my entire life LMAO

this is part of the game over series!

smut tags: sex tapes, unprotected sex, degradation, daddy kink, hard dom wonwoo, choking, overstimulation, aftercare

additional notes for the chat names!

texts: 🐈‍⬛ (ww), 🐈 (reader) discord: W0nwoo (ww), Koyahngi (reader) twitch: everyone_woo (ww), Koyahngi (reader)

taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @seoksoop - @hanieb - @dreamhannies - @renjunphile - @thvhannie - @sysymei

Wonwoo doesn’t make it a habit to watch your streams for two reasons.

The first is because you’re one of his tightest competitors in the streamer market. Giving you even a single view means that he’s contributing to your rise in popularity, which is very much detrimental to both Wonwoo’s pride and his career.

Not that someone who only plays boring, open-world games can easily dethrone one of the most renowned competitive players on the platform, but he learned the hard way to never underestimate the charms of a cute girl who knows her way around both technology and the wallets of her subscribers.

The second reason is…somewhat related to the first.

They’re all hanging out in Seungcheol’s apartment when Vernon opens up a Twitch stream to watch. Wonwoo is in the middle of a petty but intense Fruit Ninja competition with Mingyu on their phones, so he doesn’t get to see which streamer he’s watching. Vernon is the type that likes to give newbies a chance, though, so at that moment, Wonwoo couldn’t really care less.

But when he hears a familiar, high-pitched voice dish out her opening tagline for every stream, even Mingyu notices the way Wonwoo's face scrunches up with distaste.

“Can’t believe you pulled a Koyahngi and Chill while Wonwoo’s in the same room,” Seungcheol laughs when he returns with some beer. “We all know he’s allergic to the sound of her voice.”

“Hey, I think it’s cute,” Vernon says. “Her outfit is, too. Look.”

Wonwoo, still stewing in his annoyance, doesn't move an inch, while Mingyu scoots closer—glancing over Vernon’s shoulder before letting out a wolf whistle.

“I really don’t see the benefit to playing Stardew Valley in maid-cat girl fusion cosplay, but at least she’s still in theme—oh, shit.”

Seungcheol looks at him once he settles himself on the sofa as well. “What’s wrong?”

“My phone died while I was in the middle of a game,” Mingyu whines. “Wonwoo-hyung, lemme borrow yours. We still haven’t decided who’s buying takeout tonight.”

While Wonwoo would’ve normally responded by scoffing at Mingyu to just borrow a charger from Seungcheol, he completely ignores him—stern eyes glued to his phone as he types away at rapid speed. The moment he hits send, Wonwoo hears a soft chime ring over Koyahngi’s lo-fi background music.

You pause for a moment from whatever introductory segment you have planned and tell your viewers you’re just going to answer a text. Wonwoo’s friends are none the wiser when he receives a reply the moment you put your phone back down and interact with the chat.

🐈‍⬛: What did I say about wearing that outfit?

🐈: hmm, can’t remember :P

Fucking brat.

“Hyung?” Mingyu calls out after emerging from Seungcheol’s room—presumably to hunt for a charger—when he spots Wonwoo already halfway to the door. “Where are you going?”

“Friend’s having set-up problems. He texted me asking if I could come over and take a look,” he reasons calmly as he slips his shoes back on. “I’ll head back here once I’m done.”

Seungcheol pouts at him. “You better! Mingyu over here told us you’ve been busy with some girl, that’s why you couldn't hang out with the boys anymore.”

Vernon glances behind him to shoot Wonwoo an incredulous stare. “Wonwoo-hyung? With a girl? You’re not just making stuff up, right?”

Mingyu immediately springs into action, blabbering something about how Wonwoo isn’t the heartless prude people thought he was, but Wonwoo really doesn’t give two shits about how his friends perceived his sex life. In fact, he was more interested in what’s playing on the screen of Vernon’s iPad—the view now unobstructed because the youngest has deigned to move away.

Again, the second reason why Wonwoo doesn’t watch your streams is related to the first.

You’re literally his tightest competitor, but when he sees you all dolled up in your stupid fucking catgirl outfits, he’s suddenly no different from the degenerates vying for your attention in the chat.

And there is nothing else that Wonwoo hates more than being thrown off his game like that.

Funnily enough, he’s reminded of the very thing that started this constant back-and-forth he’s been toeing around with you for a better part of the year when he slips into the driver’s seat of his car. Just before he can drop his phone into one of the cup holders on the middle console, a Twitter notification lights up on screen.

Wonwoo would’ve thought it was from the account dedicated to interacting with his viewers outside of streams. He’s got a decent number of followers there after all. Except the notifications for his official Twitter account have long been muted because of the massive online traction his tweets gain everyday.

No, this one’s from another account entirely.

He feels no shame, opening up the most recent video you put up. What he does feel is a sick sort of pride at the sheer amount of engagement that the video received overnight—those faceless Twitter accounts in the replies looking for other desperate fucks to recreate it with.

This is one of Wonwoo’s favorites. Part of the select few that he actually deigned to keep hidden in the gallery of his phone for…future use. He can barely contain his own heady arousal as he watches the same clip he took with his own camera the previous night.

Those desperate little noises you made. The way your body writhed while getting a good dicking down. And how you were so fucking eager to slide Wonwoo’s cock back inside your cunt after having him cum all over your tits.

Seeing you wearing the same goddamn fishnet bodysuit beneath your stupid maid costume on the stream not only made him pop a hard-on in the middle of boys’ night, but also called for drastic interventions, so to speak.

🐈‍⬛: Finish up that stream asap. I’ll be there in 20.

🐈: fuck you, i just started 5 minutes ago

🐈‍⬛: You know I don’t like it when you talk back, right?

🐈: fine

🐈‍⬛: What?

🐈: …yes, daddy

🐈‍⬛: That’s what I thought.

It all began during a relatively harmless Discord call between their circle friends.

Hanging out with other streamers isn’t such a foreign concept to Wonwoo. If you live in the same apartment as renowned social butterfly Kim Mingyu, you’re bound to get roped into his goings-on anyway, so Wonwoo relents every time—telling himself there’s no harm in meeting a bunch of new people, as long as they aren’t shitty teammates in-game.

Tonight, though, it’s Vernon who brings a new face to their server, and their Discord tag is something that Wonwoo recognizes almost immediately.

“Hey,” says one Koyahngi#0000, sounding a lot different than Wonwoo remembers. “It’s nice to meet you guys. Vernon said I could come hang out.”

The others in the voice call greet you with varying degrees of enthusiasm—from Jihoon’s mirrored but relaxed ‘hey’, to Soonyoung’s immediate invitation to team up with him on a new FPS game they’re trying out for the night.

As if having the same train of thought as Wonwoo, someone immediately pings him from the private server he shares with Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Vernon—one that Mingyu pathetically named as GAM3 BO1s. Wonwoo is quick to click on it more to eliminate the annoying red ping notification than anything else.

Min6yu: hey isn’t she the new streamer who always gets on wonu-hyung’s nerves

Min6yu: bc her voice is always so…squeaky

Min6yu: @W0nwoo

5coups: hasn’t it occurred to u that maybe that’s just part of the online persona

5coups: i think the reason why wonwoo is annoyed is bc she’s stealing his brand

5coups: you know, as the government-assigned twitch cat

V3rnon: you guys aren’t seriously talking about the person i invited in a server i’m also a part of, right…

5coups: gotta live with it, vern. you know gyu is the town gossip

W0nwoo: can we talk about this later?

W0nwoo: i can’t be the only one hearing soonyoung wailing in the call because we’re taking too long to form teams

The first few rounds progress exactly as Wonwoo envisioned them to be—with you being a constant dead weight to Soonyoung’s team, as Wonwoo’s comes out victorious each time. But it seems that the only person remotely miffed by your presence is Wonwoo, as everyone else in the call would resort to saying things like, that’s alright, you’ll get better with practice or come hang out with us more often so you can get used to it!

Wonwoo isn’t a fan of the latter, but if the tides of favor are pitted against him, twelve to one, he can’t just overrule the majority like that.

Of course, he doesn’t have a personal vendetta against newbies. That’s where everyone starts. Back in high school, Wonwoo used to be so bad at aiming his shots in FPS that Mingyu wouldn’t talk to him for an entire day because Wonwoo inadvertently embarrassed him in front of some girl he was trying to get with at the time.

But there’s just…something about you that ticks him off.

You aren’t even using that pick-me-girl voice you typically do on your streams whenever you’re in a voice call with them, but it’s like you’re playing badly on purpose just so his friends could coo and coddle you. Wonwoo seems to be the only one who can see straight through the farce, and he doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it.

Or maybe he shouldn’t have to deal with it. He can just suck it up whenever one of his friends invites you to play games or fuck around in a Discord call. It’s not like anyone’s holding Wonwoo at gunpoint to interact with you.

Except one day, Jeonghan thought it would be a wonderful idea to have a quote-unquote friendly Valorant competition on-stream.

Wonwoo isn’t as opposed to it at first. These little contests have always been a constant since they all started gaming years and years ago. Chan, Minghao, and Jun left the call a bit early for some prior commitments, which means the opposing team would be Jeonghan, Joshua, Woozi, Seokmin, and Seungkwan. Should be easy enough.

But just when Wonwoo thought he’d be playing with his usual Valorant team consisting of Seungcheol, Mingyu, Vernon, and Soonyoung, he’s presented with a bit of a surprise.

“What?” Wonwoo blurts out of instinct once the news that you’re going to be replacing Soonyoung for today’s stream reaches his ears. “What’s wrong with Soonyoung?”

Jeonghan tuts at him in the call. “Now, Wonwoo-ah. Weren’t you the one who suggested switching things up every now and again? You’re the only one who seems miffed at the idea of getting to play alongside our new friend over here.”

“Yeah, and there’s a new banner coming out tonight in this gacha game I’m playing,” Soonyoung quips. “I’ve been sponsored with a fuck ton of cash to use on summons, so I gotta do the rolls live. Actually, I’m gonna head out now. Good luck!”

The moment Soonyoung leaves the call, you’re all-too quick to jump into the spotlight.

“Don’t worry, Wonwoo, I’ll try not to drag you down too much,” you tell him, and Wonwoo startles at the sound of your voice speaking to him directly. “You might have to carry me a little, though~”

He doesn’t like the idea of letting you have the last word, but Wonwoo would rather not antagonize you right before a joint stream with his buddies. Even if you seem to thrive off pushing his buttons whether knowingly or unknowingly, he has enough tact to keep things civil, especially in the middle of a voice call.

At least, that’s the plan until all of you are several rounds into the first game.

“Do you have some sort of grudge against me?” Wonwoo mutters into his mic as his agent dies for the nth time on stream, while you—having played Sage since the beginning—stand over him without doing a single thing. “You haven’t tried to resurrect me even once.”

The jeering laughter of his other friends on the call inadvertently pisses him off, but the sound of you simpering is what makes his blood pressure rise into dangerous levels. “Oh? Sorry, I kind of forgot how Sage’s abilities work. My bad!”

“This is our twentieth round,” he reminds you, eye twitching with annoyance. “And you literally just resurrected Cheol, like, a minute ago.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to waste her ult on scrubs who can’t dodge headshots,” Mingyu snorts and Wonwoo has to keep himself from getting up from his chair just to give his best friend in the other room a knuckle sandwich. “I dunno if Wonwoo-hyung’s just terrible today or if Seungkwan actually got better at using sniper guns, but this is the most fun we’ve had in a while.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole,” Wonwoo grunts.

He can hear Seungkwan laugh as well. “It’s a compliment, but that somehow still feels like an insult—whoa! Shua-hyung, Vernon’s planting a spike in—”

Before Seungkwan can even finish the sentence, his agent is swiftly annihilated by yours from behind—making quick work of Joshua, who was hiding behind a cargo holder while you’re at it, too. Wonwoo can hear Jihoon belting out a string of very colorful language that Jeonghan might have to edit out once he cross-posts the stream on YouTube. But with all agents from their team having been eliminated, the twentieth round inevitably goes to Wonwoo’s team.

Normally, Wonwoo would’ve been glad to celebrate his team’s victory, even if he was hard-carried for an entire round because of some careless choices early on. But the fact that his best friends are all-too enthusiastic with that last play you made did his peace of mind no favors.

“See, we told you you’d get better with practice,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo would honestly like to digress.

You’ve never been bad at FPS. That’s just what you wanted everyone to think, so the moment you finally made groundbreaking plays, all attention would magnetize solely on you. Not that he’s been much of a glutton for the spotlight, though. Wonwoo simply despises people with hidden agendas, no matter how harmless, and the fact that he’s the only one who realizes this makes it even worse.

It doesn’t help that he has a hunch that whatever blatant dislike he has for you, is very much reciprocated on your end.

Your friends assumed the constant bickering you had with Wonwoo during these streams is nothing but good-natured banter at the end of the day.

However, Wonwoo knows much, much better that this is more than just to boost the viewer engagement because of how entertaining it is to watch the two of you argue about the smallest things. (Typical ‘everyone_woo and Koyahngi catfight’, as Soonyoung horrifically dubbed it.)

There has to be something he can do to make you see yourself out of their circle as soon as possible. Pretending you don’t exist just won’t work anymore because: 1.) Wonwoo is very, very easy to get a rise out of and; 2.) You always seem to go out of your way just to fuck with him every chance you get.

He needs to get rid of you, stat.

Don’t misunderstand, though. Jeon Wonwoo isn’t some sort of vengeful person who makes it his life’s goal to break you off from their circle entirely. It’s not like he’s actively looking for some dirt on you so he could finally make his idiot friends see the light about your real personality. He kind of just hopes that karma would do its thing without requiring Wonwoo to lift a single finger.

Eventually, that does sort of happen. Just not in the way he ever would’ve expected.

Wonwoo isn’t particularly fond of using Twitter. Aside from the fact that he doesn’t have much to say for his followers to see, the things that appear on his timeline can be a bit…questionable.

From threads justifying that everyone_woo and min6yu_k have been dating since middle school, here’s why to the blatant Twitter porn that his other, more degenerate streamer friends keep bringing onto his feed with their likes—Wonwoo is yet to have a pleasant experience with the stupid app. He mostly just uses it to post stream schedules ahead of time, and thank the occasional follower when they make nice cat-themed merch for Wonwoo to see.

Wonwoo doesn’t know what compelled him to scroll through the dumpster fire that is his Twitter timeline on this specific day, at this specific hour. When he has nothing better to do, he usually just channels the boredom into working out.

But today is more of a lazy day, and Wonwoo wants nothing more than to lounge on his gaming chair while waiting for something interesting to pop up. Why he’s expecting such a thing on Twitter is beyond him, but he’s already here anyways, right?

About five minutes through his infinite scrolling, it finally pops up.

It’s another porn video liked by this guy he collaborated with for a Twitch event once—a rather…promiscuous person named Johnny. Now that he thinks about it, Johnny seems to be the main source of all the NSFW content popping up in Wonwoo’s feed, and he considers soft blocking him for a due timeline cleanse altogether.

But when Wonwoo finally reads the caption attached to the video…

🔞 • @_asd624915 pov: you’re fucking k0y4hng1 from behind 🤤

He scoffs the moment he finishes reading it, attempting to just block both the person who posted the video and Johnny at the same time. But what catches Wonwoo’s eye is the red neon setting of the scandalous clip.

Wonwoo doesn’t have to watch your streams to be familiar with the trademark neon red lights you had set up inside your gaming room. The streamer portrait at the bottom corner of your screen always contrasted with the games you played, and it was sort of an eyesore sometimes.

As the degen who tweeted it described, the girl in the video is being railed from behind while her partner films the entire thing with his phone. Wonwoo couldn’t make out any other details because of the stark, neon red lighting, as well as the shitty 480p quality, so he figures that person just wants to project his sick fantasies about you on some amateur sex tape.

Thinking about why Johnny would even like this sort of thing gives Wonwoo a headache, so he just quits the application altogether—deciding to finally drag his ass back to the gym so he can just let it pass.

It’s none of his business anyway.

Except it happens again a few days later.

The gaming community isn’t completely full of people with questionable tastes. There are still streamers like Saerom that Wonwoo would actually consider a friend outside of his usual circle. She used to be more popular back when battle royale games were still a hit, but Saerom has since lied low in the gaming scene, and only goes live on Twitch at least once every three months.

So Wonwoo finds it a bit surprising to see her in the chat for tonight’s stream.

His newer viewers don’t seem to know her, but some of the veterans on his channel all greet Saerom happily—spamming the chat with the cutest emojis available on stream. He thanks them for their discretion, as he can’t quite scroll back to read her first message. The chat is moving a little too fast, and things are getting a little too heated in the Valorant Icebox map.

Wonwoo isn’t quite used to queueing solo anymore, so after carrying the rest of his team for thirteen rounds straight, he decides to cut the stream earlier than he usually would. He says goodbye to the viewers, not forgetting to give Saerom a quick special mention before ending the live.

However, just when he’s about to shut off his computer, he gets a Whisper notification.

SAEROM: hey, you’re friends with koyahngi, right?

everyone_woo: Uh. Sort of. Why?

SAEROM: oh um

SAEROM: i’m sorry if this seems a bit odd…but i’m just concerned about her.

Saerom’s response makes him arch an eyebrow.

Did something happen to you? And is it so bad that a semi-retired Twitch streamer is reaching out to him just to check in on you?

everyone_woo: Is something the matter?

everyone_woo: I haven’t really hung out with them in a while, so I wouldn’t know

SAEROM: oh, i see

SAEROM: it’s just that…there are some weirdos on reddit saying they discovered her sex tapes

SAEROM: i had something similar happen to me in the past even if it's complete bs, so i’m just looking out for her, yknow?

SAEROM: their reasoning is so stupid too! just because the girl in the video has red mood lights, doesn’t mean it’s koyahngi, right?

Huh. She must be talking about the same video that Johnny unknowingly put on Wonwoo’s timeline a few days ago. He hasn’t really been paying attention to social media platforms that aren’t Twitch and YouTube, so he wasn’t aware that those clips managed to gain some traction in the degen community after all.

everyone_woo: You know how fans and viewers can be sometimes.

everyone_woo: That’s the reason you laid back for a while, right?

SAEROM: well, yeah but just bc it’s a normal thing, doesn’t mean i have to just sit back and watch it happen again to other people

SAEROM: sigh sorry i’m rambling. all of this just doesn’t sit right w me, and you’re the only friend of hers that i’m still in touch with

SAEROM: you must think it’s weird for me to be fussing abt someone i’ve never spoken to before lol

Wonwoo feels quite the opposite, actually. It’s kind of relieving to know that there are still people like Saerom in this world—caring enough to be frustrated on your behalf even if the two of you have never interacted.

everyone_woo: Would it make you feel better if I talked to her about it?

SAEROM: omg? you’d really do that?!

SAEROM: seoyeon was completely wrong abt you, you're not a cold-hearted guy at all!

everyone_woo: …So is that a yes or?

SAEROM: ok first of all, i’m not sure if that’s necessary ‘cause idek if she knows me

SAEROM: you don’t have to Talk to her about it, but at least look after her for me?

everyone_woo: Ok. I’ll try.

SAEROM: thank you, you’re the best!

It’s only when he’s halfway through his evening shower that what Wonwoo just offered to do for Saerom finally dawns on him. The moment the realization hits, Wonwoo closes his eyes and let the steady spray from the showerhead prickle his face—breathing deeply through his mouth before...

“Fuck!”

Mingyu asks what the commotion was about when Wonwoo joins him at their two-seater dinner table. He probably heard him not-so gracefully lose it inside the bathroom, but Wonwoo is too pissed at himself to entertain Mingyu’s question, and thankfully, his roommate is sensible enough not to pry.

“Gyu, can I ask something?”

Wonwoo asks this in the middle of cleaning up after dinner. He’s in charge of doing the dishes, since Mingyu was charitable enough to cook dinner for both of them tonight. Mingyu glances at him from the couch, pausing the RPG he fed into the PS5. “Yeah?”

“If you have something important to tell a girl, where would you do it?”

Honestly, Wonwoo thought it would be alright to check up on you through a quick message on Discord. But the nature of your supposed…problem is a bit too sensitive to bring up in a casual conversation. He figures that talking to you in person would be more appropriate. Never mind the fact that every other instance Wonwoo has met you in real life consisted of him completely avoiding you.

The sound of the water running is the only thing that can be heard throughout their apartment as Mingyu processes Wonwoo’s question with an unreadable look. It’s the first time he’s seen his roommate look so serious about something, so Wonwoo decides to give him some time to answer while he scrubs off some particularly tough fond sticking to the frying pan.

In reality, Mingyu actually had a last-minute meltdown in his head the moment Wonwoo asked the question. His roommate and best friend for more than ten years never expressed feelings or interest in other people. So the fact that Wonwoo is coming up to him now, asking about where to confess his feelings is kind of a big deal.

(Okay, that’s definitely not what Wonwoo asked, but it might as well be, right?)

So to speak, Mingyu is trying to handle the situation as delicately as possible. He just knows the moment he lets even the tiniest laugh slip, Wonwoo would just scowl at him and drop the matter entirely. Which Mingyu does not want to happen, because surprise, surprise. He’s actually rooting for his normally stoic roommate!

“Hmm, I think the new samgyeopsal joint downtown serves some mad bulgogi,” Mingyu suggests because barbecue is always a safe choice. Unless the girl Wonwoo’s trying to get with is a vegetarian, but that’s out of the scope of Mingyu’s concern right now.

Wonwoo scrunches his brows together. “Samgyeopsal? Do I really have to eat with her?”

His roommate looks at him like that’s a pivotal piece of information that everyone is aware of. Everyone but Wonwoo, it seems.

“Duh! It’s to set the mood and stuff,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo is starting to wonder if they’re talking about the same thing. “Anyway, it’s better to invite her out for dinner. Nothing beats grilling meat and sharing a beer after a long day, am I right?”

Mingyu isn’t exactly wrong about that.

Every time they all went out for samgyeopsal and a few drinks, the atmosphere has always been oddly comfortable. He might not like you as a person all that much, but Wonwoo would want you to be comfortable before he asks about…the thing.

“Fine,” Wonwoo relents just as he’s finished putting the last plate on the drying rack. “Thanks for the input.”

When Wonwoo slowly pads back to his room, he wonders again if he should really exert this much effort for someone he doesn’t even get along with. Sure, he told Saerom that he’d check up on you, but…she insisted that he didn’t necessarily have to talk to you, right?

All of a sudden, Mingyu starts clapping all the way in the living room—effectively startling Wonwoo from his quiet contemplation.

“You can do it, hyung,” he says with an earnest smile. “I believe in you!”

Wonwoo simply shoots him a bizarre stare before slamming the door behind him, muttering about how strange Kim Mingyu could be sometimes.

W0nwoo: Hey. Are you free tomorrow evening?

Koyahngi: …did you send that to the wrong person or

W0nwoo: No?

Koyahngi: who are you and what did you to do wonwoo

Koyahngi: the Real wonwoo would rather throw an entire match than ask me if i’m free tomorrow evening

Koyahngi: you better start fessing up or i’ll tell mingyu

W0nwoo: Can you stop being weird about it? I just need to tell you something important.

Koyahngi: oh? professing your undying love for me already?

W0nwoo: Just answer the question.

Koyahngi: oooh you like ordering people around huh? but yeah i should be free after my stream.

Koyahngi: where are we going, lover boy?

W0nwoo: New samgyeopsal place downtown. Gyu said you already went with them once.

Koyahngi: okay, sounds like a date to me.

W0nwoo: Whatever. Just don’t be late.

Of course, you make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late.

Wonwoo is already in the middle of grilling the restaurant’s famed bulgogi when you slide yourself into the seat adjacent to his, grinning so sweetly at him, Wonwoo almost rolls his eyes.

You aren’t dressed the way you usually are in streams and conventions, having settled with a worn out sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. It’s a far cry from all those complex catgirl outfits that Wonwoo has no idea how you have the patience to put together every stream. The switch up throws him off a bit, but he doesn’t comment on it—content with grilling his meat in silence as you flag down a waiter to get your order in.

“So,” you start, lacing your fingers together, “what does the elusive everyone_woo want from little old me?”

He forgot that if you’re annoying in their damn voice calls, you’re ten times worse when you’re actually in front of him. Wonwoo breathes in the fumes from the grill, willing the succulent aroma of grilling meat to calm him down before he responds.

“You should eat first,” he insists, popping a piece of beef into his mouth. “You might lose your appetite if we talk about it right away.”

You snort. “You make it sound like you know a deep dark secret that can potentially ruin my life.”

…In a way, he does, yeah.

Wonwoo assumed that eating outside without the company of your mutual friends would make the entire ordeal awkward as hell. He’s used to bearing the brunt of uncomfortable silences, but it’s just like you’re built to never feel cumbersome in your life—easily carrying the conversation with someone you supposedly hate, and hates you right back.

You’re not someone who just talks and talks without discretion either. You know perfectly well when to fill the silence and when to let that silence set. Given that majority of his interactions with you involved his twelve other friends, that’s not something Wonwoo would’ve noticed about you right away.

Fine. Maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought.

“Oh, right. Do you remember Saerom? The famous battle royale player from a while back?” you suddenly ask, and Wonwoo nearly chokes on his beer. “She popped into my stream earlier. It was fucking crazy! I’ve looked up to her since I was still in college, and then I see her leaving little hearts in the chat.”

As Wonwoo attempts to compose himself, he feels slightly reassured by the thought of Saerom easing herself into your orbit. The fact that you consider her as some sort of idol might just be a bonus, too. He wonders if he still needs to carry out what he’s supposed to do tonight, but then again, he’s already here.

And he’d be lying if he isn’t the tiniest bit concerned about your PR once that Reddit fiasco starts spreading around.

That evening, he learns that you’re somewhat of a lightweight. Just two beers in, and your face is already red, and you’re laughing way too much in between sentences. Wonwoo has a sinking suspicion that he won’t be able to get his main agenda over with tonight.

He takes it upon himself to help you into the passenger seat of his car, trying to keep your grappling hands off him as you whine about how this is the only opportunity that you’ll get to be in close proximity to Wonwoo before you go back to hating each other again in the morning. Wonwoo can only sigh in complete defeat—wondering why he ever thought doing Saerom this tedious favor was worth it in the first place.

Thankfully, you’re coherent enough to tell him your address, and much to Wonwoo’s chagrin, you live on the other side of the district. It makes him ponder about why you accepted his invitation if the restaurant was completely out of the way, but then again you’ve always been a little eccentric.

“We’re here,” he says, nudging your knee once he pulls up in front of your apartment complex. “Can you climb up the stairs or am I going to have to be your human crutch again?”

Blinking out the sleepiness swimming in your eyes, you manage to beam at him with a smile that makes your eyes crinkle.

“Your duty is not over~”

You did not just fucking quote Sage in your drunken stupor.

There are only two things that pisses off Wonwoo these days. The first is Mingyu’s penchant for leaving his dirty clothes in the bathroom after a shower. The second is every single thing about you, which is un-fucking-fortunate for him because he’s forced to play Good Samaritan while you repeatedly wail, “Even death cannot stop me,” and every single one of your favorite agent’s in-game voice lines for no one but him to hear.

Wonwoo distantly wonders, if those weirdos on Twitter and Reddit saw you now, would they still think about you the same way?

When he’s finally in front of your door, you fumble a bit for your keys—doing a pathetic little fist pump once the lock turns on the first try. Wonwoo sighs.

“Y’know…” You peel yourself away from his grasp before leaning against the doorframe, staring at him in the fluorescent light of the hallway. “Saerom-unnie already mentioned the rumors going around about me after my stream.”

At that moment, Wonwoo feels like an anvil has been dropped into his stomach. He narrows his eyes, wondering if this is some sort of conversational bear trap that he’s in danger of falling for. But the look in your eyes is a little too glazed over to be anything but honest.

“What did she say?” he asks instead.

You hum, chuckling to yourself as you fold your arms in front of your chest. “That you went out of your way to check on me on her behalf. So sweet of you, Wonwoo. Here I thought you were just some asshole who’s never dated a girl in his life. That definitely explains why you’re always so mean to me.”

Wonwoo’s gaze turns stony in a split second—the familiar dregs of irritation prickling the back of his neck. “I’m assuming you’re at least sober enough to walk back inside your place without my help? If that’s the case, I’ll be going—”

“They’re all true, you know.”

Your voice came out so softly, Wonwoo would have missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he is. He scrutinizes you for a moment, deciding whether or not you’re messing with him again, but the way you hold his gaze so confidently tells him it’s the latter.

“Of course, I didn’t tell that to Saerom-unnie,” you sigh, carding your fingers through your hair. “But yep. The girl in the video that a bunch of creeps are saying resembles me? That’s actually me.”

The clip in question replays in the forefront of Wonwoo’s mind like he didn’t spend days forgetting about it altogether. He shakes his head when he catches himself thinking about it a little too long.

“Okay.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Why are you telling me then?”

You shrug. “Beats me.”

“You’re being very strange tonight, you know?”

“Yeah. I know,” you chuckle, leaning your head back while exposing your neck in a way that’s a bit too sensual to be normal. “Maybe it’s because I know the truth’s safe in your hands. Kinda weird if you think about it, though—trusting the guy who hates your guts with a dirty little secret that could end your entire career.”

If the context was any more different, Wonwoo would’ve agreed. This is what he’s been waiting for, right? To get enough dirt on you so he can convince his friends to just kick you out of your little circle altogether.

But as insufferable as you might be, Wonwoo isn’t such a terrible person that he’ll throw you to the wolves without an ounce of remorse. He’s seen what scandals like this have done to the careers of old streamer friends he no longer has contact with. Even if you’re purposely living your life on the literal edge, he would never consider deliberately ruining it.

He tells himself that the only reason he feels that way is because he refuses to get his hands dirty from…whatever you’ve got going on for yourself. Not because of outright concern for you. Definitely not.

“If you don’t have anything else to say to me,” Wonwoo starts, trying not to think about the flush on your cheeks while you’re slumped against the doorframe, “I’m heading back home.”

He turns around with full intention of leaving without hearing your answer. However, you completely anticipated his next move, immediately snapping into motion to grab Wonwoo’s wrist before he could even take a single step away. He grunts with surprise when you tug him closer—enough that your chests are flush against each other.

“I just remembered the other reason why I decided to tell you,” you giggle, running a finger along the rim of his glasses. “My old dom quit on me, so I need to bring in someone new to make more content with.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen by the second as the implications of your words start to connect in his head. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “No need to act so prissy with me, Wonwoo. I make sex tapes on the side for the entire world to see. As of the moment, there’s no one to have sex with. You’re a semi-attractive guy that’s pressed up against me right now, and I’m pretty sure fucking around with you wouldn’t be too—”

“Stop. Holy shit. Stop talking,” Wonwoo rasps. He physically has to push you away so he can hear the sound of himself talking over the thundering of his heart.

You pout at him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t once thought about fucking me. I’m pretty sure your other friends have entertained the idea at least once.”

“Can you shut up for one fucking second?”

That seems to do the trick. In fact, Wonwoo doesn’t miss the dazed yet pleased look in your eyes the moment he says the words with a bit more authority that he meant to channel into his voice.

Oh, you are so fucking sick.

“Look,” he sighs in between, dragging a palm over his face out of perplexion. “This probably isn’t a conversation we should be having in the hallway of your apartment complex. If your neighbors overhear, what then?”

“Hmph. You think I’ll let myself live in a place with paper thin walls? The soundproofing here is great, mind you. The couple that lives a few units over might be having the wildest sex imaginable and we’re none the wiser!”

“That’s not the fucking point,” Wonwoo growls. “You’ve obviously had too many to drink tonight, and you’re spilling all your life’s secrets willy-nilly. Don’t proposition me like that again when you’re not sober enough to deal with the consequences after.”

You simper, hands gliding to the lapels of his jacket as you tug him back. He has to physically bite the inside of his cheek when those fingers glide across the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt, grazing across every ridge of his muscled chest.

“Oh? Those consequences you speak of sound a bit too tempting to ignore.”

Wonwoo looks at the pristine ceiling of the fourth floor hallway, as if praying for some sort of deliverance.

“Go home and get some sleep. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, testing the waters of…whatever the fuck this is, and Wonwoo finds relief in the fact that you actually do as he says, stepping away from him just like he ordered.

“Not even a good night kiss?” you ask—the teasing lilt in your voice yet to fade.

Mustering all the self-restraint left in his body, he turns on his heel and walks away without another word.

Wonwoo doesn’t hear from you for a few days after that.

He convinced himself that the conversation he had with you just outside your apartment was nothing but a fever dream. Though he only had one glass of beer, as he’s supposed to drive home, he can’t really underestimate the effects of alcohol.

But just when he thought his life had finally resumed his preferred cadence of normalcy, another unexpected visitor hops onto his latest stream—sending the chat into a complete frenzy.

Unlike the mixed reactions that Saerom’s arrival last week incurred, seeing the renowned Twitch streamer Koyahngi leaving cat emojis in Wonwoo’s stream chat is enough to drive his entire viewerbase up a wall.

Thankfully, he isn’t playing a game that requires 200% of his utmost concentration—having given the open-world gacha game that Soonyoung keeps begging them to play a chance—so Wonwoo gets to peer over at the messages flooding across one side of his screen. One in particular catches his attention: why are a bunch of hot girls dropping by wonwoo’s stream these days?

Wonwoo ultimately decides to brush them all off for now.

However, unlike Saerom who just observed his stream quietly after making her presence known, you constantly made comments about his overworld progress—saying that he’s building this character wrong, and that there’s an easier way to go around the obstacles; he just needs to use his head. Wonwoo forgot that this is a game that you also played frequently, and having to be on the receiving end of all your unsolicited advice made him want to end the stream altogether.

Except he can’t dish out his snarky rebuttals like he typically would on their friendly Discord calls because, wow, his viewers really were eating this shit up. Since the two of you typically argued on your friends’ streams and not his, Wonwoo hasn’t seen the gravity of these splintered interactions until now.

His eyes parse through the fast-paced comments flying into the chat, catching on a few questionable ones, like someone begging for the TikTok fans to make edits, the fanfic writers to create stories about the greatest enemies-to-lovers couple in Twitch history, and so on.

Wonwoo has been making his livelihood off the internet for years, but he still can’t get used to how strangely people behave sometimes.

He half-expects you to continue pestering him even after he finishes up with the stream, but his Discord notifs remain oddly silent, and Wonwoo decides to just hit the gym when Mingyu asks if he wants to come.

After he’s satisfied with today’s session, Wonwoo waits for Mingyu by the locker room, as his roommate is still getting their usual trainer to spot him while he does his bench presses. But when he fishes his phone out of his gym bag, he’s surprised to see a couple of messages from yours truly.

Koyahngi: sooo are you free tonight?

Koyahngi: i haven’t posted anything in a while, my followers must miss me

Wonwoo scowls at his phone once he reads the contents of your messages—earning himself a wary stare from this one person that passed him in the hall. Clearing his throat, he schools his expression into complete neutrality as he types in a response.

W0nwoo: Why do I have to get roped into this again? Can’t you just make your own content by yourself?

Koyahngi: they’re more into seeing the actual thing that just me playing with myself

Koyahngi: that, and i’m kind of really horny these days

W0nwoo: …So this is your idea of a booty call?

Koyahngi: pretty much, yeah.

“Wonwoo-hyung, you wanna get some chicken before we head home?” he hears Mingyu call out at the other end of the hall.

He has half the mind to tell him that stuffing his face with fried food right after working out is counterproductive as hell, but then again, it’s not like Wonwoo can reprimand him when he won’t even be there to begin with.

“I…actually have other plans.”

…

What the fuck is he doing here, honestly?

It’s not like Wonwoo doesn’t have any sort of sex drive or anything. In fact, the night after he dropped you off at your apartment, he might’ve had to…relieve himself during a quick shower before bed. Not that he’d ever admit to ever doing it. Letting off some steam every now and again is understandable though.

But this? Sitting at the foot of your bed as you got ready for him to fuck you silly?

This is a different breed of foolishness.

He seriously considers sneaking out of your apartment before you can emerge from the en-suite. Wonwoo can just shoot you a quick message, saying that this was all a mistake, and that he hopes you can find a more suitable partner to fuck around with. Because…he doesn’t just do these kinds of things with other people. He wouldn’t go as far as calling himself a romantic, but casual sex has never really interested him—insisting that there are other things in life to focus his energy on.

However, you come out of the bathroom before he can even hope to make up his mind, a cute robe patterned with pink kittens hiding your body from view. You muster up a kind smile as Wonwoo swallows thickly.

Yep. No backing out now.

“You look so tense for someone who just came from the gym,” you chuckle, making a beeline for your desk to grab your phone. “Aren’t work outs supposed to be a form of stress relief or something?”

“They are, but a certain someone is stressing me out again.”

“Hm. I wonder who?”

A few moments later, the mood lights hooked up to the ceiling start to glow, and you pad over to flip off the light switch. Almost immediately, the room is plunged into near-darkness, and Wonwoo feels himself take in a sharp breath when he sees how the red lighting paints your objectively cute robe in a more…lascivious light.

“So how do you wanna do this?” you ask before finally making your way towards the bed—planting a knee on either side of Wonwoo’s hips before hoisting yourself up to sit on his lap. He doesn’t dare to move an inch.

“Why are you asking me? Aren’t you going to direct how your own content plays out?” he questions gruffly, keeping his palms firmly at his sides despite the sudden compulsion to place them on your hips.

You chuckle as you make a show of biting your bottom lip—one finger trailing down the dri-fit shirt that Wonwoo changed into after showering at the gym. “I don’t think you understood what I was telling you the other night. You’re my dom, Wonwoo. You get to call the shots, not me.”

He closes his eyes with a withering sigh, wondering what sort of atrocities he’s committed in a past life to warrant having to end up in this situation.

“Don’t we have to get this on film? Can’t exactly hold a phone when you’re all over me like this.”

A soft giggle reverberates in your chest before you roll your hips, earning an exasperated groan from the man below you. This time, Wonwoo can’t contain the need to touch you, and his hands migrate to your thighs as he presses his hips further against yours—eyes never straying too far from your own.

“You don’t have to think about that just yet,” you murmur, trailing your lips along the cut of his jaw. “Let’s get a feel of each other first. I’ll let you know what I like, and you let me know what you like, yeah?”

It gives him so much vertigo, seeing you like this under the same red lights he’s always found disparaging to catch a glimpse of in your streams. Wonwoo is tethering dangerously across the tightrope of his self-control, but when you lace your fingers around his nape to press your foreheads together, Wonwoo realizes the effort is completely futile.

“What do you say, daddy?”

He doesn’t have a daddy kink. He knows he doesn’t. He’s always found it weird how others got off at the prospect of calling their sexual partners such a thing.

So why the hell is Wonwoo crushing your lips together like he’ll die if he doesn’t kiss you right this second? Why are his fingers gripping the swell of your ass as tightly as they are—grinding you down on his hardening length with a growl resonating deep in his chest? And why does he feel a rush of pride surge straight into his skull when you whimper against his mouth?

As he busies himself with devouring your lips, you shrug off the sleeves of your robe, making Wonwoo peel himself away for a second to get a glimpse of what you’ve been hiding underneath. When he’s rewarded with the spill of your bare breasts, he takes a sharp breath through gritted teeth—rolling his hips upward at the thought that you’ve chosen to forego underwear altogether.

“What’s your safeword?” he rasps, mouth hovering above your chest before he goes in for the kill, nipping and biting at your skin with the intention for it to hurt. A sick sense of satisfaction ripples in his chest when you moan out his name in response, and Wonwoo all but secures a strong arm around your waist to keep you from falling off.

“Red,” you mewl, all while you discard your robe altogether, rutting your bare cunt against his middle.

He sighs, reaching between your thighs to get a feel of just how ready you are for him. Wonwoo nearly bites down harshly when he finds you wet and wanting—your essence already trickling out of your needy hole and onto his sweats.

“Fuck,” he groans, lathering his free hand in your slick. “So fucking wet for me already. Did you touch yourself before I got here?”

“Mmmm,” you purr, taking his bottom lip between your teeth. “Fucked myself with a little toy thinking it was you.”

You assumed your eagerness to finally lie with the guy you’ve been trying to get with for months might spur him further into action. But something unspeakable shifts in the air and for a moment, Wonwoo is so silent, you figure he didn’t hear what you just said. Just when you’re about to call out his name, however, Wonwoo quickly maneuvers you off his lap, shoving you back onto the mattress with little heed for your comfort.

At first, you thought he was about to manhandle you into oblivion, but when the searing warmth of his body departs from yours, you look up at him with an inquisitive scowl.

“Sounds to me like you don’t need my cock after all,” he says coolly, yet fails to mask the anger sparking in his dark eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’re obviously content with using a toy instead, right?”

“Wonwoo,” you groan, frustrated that he’s playing games now when you’re finally so goddamn close to what you’ve been hoping to happen for months. “Can you not go too deep into the domspace because I really, really need you to rail me like, right fucking now.”

“Shut up,” he scoffs before crossing his arms together. If it weren’t for the outline of his cock bulging through his sweats, you would’ve thought he was genuinely displeased with you. “Cocksluts like you don’t have the right to make demands.”

Fuck.

You only had a hunch back then, but Jeon Wonwoo might just be the dom of your dreams.

Instead of playing the brat like you always do, you let out a helpless whimper, sliding down to the floor before crawling to Wonwoo’s feet. He watches your movements with an impassive stare, looking so immovable even as you prop yourself up on your knees to nuzzle his clothed cock.

“Then what can I do for you, daddy?” you ask, fingers catching purchase on the strong flesh of his thighs. The heady scent of musk and detergent pervades your senses, and it takes every ounce of patience for you to keep yourself from pulling his sweatpants down and take him into your mouth. “You’re not just going to stare at me all night while you’re all pent up like this, right?”

Whatever semblance of playfulness you deigned to parade around Wonwoo is quickly snuffed out when he roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his ticked off gaze.

“I don’t think you understood your own words when you said I’m the one calling the shots here,” he growls, and you can feel another gush of slick seeping between your thighs. “You’re not allowed to talk until I say so. Keep those cheeky fucking comments to yourself or I’ll leave you high and dry. Got that?”

Oh my god, he’s fucking perfect.

When Wonwoo finally gets to fuck the frustration out of his system, he lies next to you on the sheets—waiting for you to swim out of that post-orgasmic high as he inspects the damage he’s done to your body.

It’s been a while since he’s gone out of his way to hook up with someone, so he isn’t surprised to see the plethora of love bites and bruises he ended up scattering across your skin. Wonwoo feels particularly pleased with himself when he sees the deep rise and fall of your chest—the bloom of hickeys you’ve amassed on your breasts still recognizable even under the deep red lights.

“I think I might be in love with you,” you sigh wistfully once you finally come to your senses. Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “I haven’t come that hard in months, Jesus.”

“Compliment me any more and it’ll get to my head,” he says before adding—much more sincerely than he usually sounds— “Are you okay?”

Turning around to face him, you pull him down for another kiss. Wonwoo grunts against your lips but snakes a hand around your waist anyways.

“I think you’re just about ready to film us now,” you whisper into the kiss, licking into his mouth in a way that’s stoking the ebbing flames of his arousal back to life. “Can I borrow your phone?”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at your request but moves to the nightstand where he unceremoniously discarded his phone before fucking you stupid. There are a couple of texts and other Discord notifications on screen that he completely ignores in favor of handing it to you unlocked.

You adjust your position on the mattress, easing your legs apart with the silent invitation for Wonwoo to come between them again. He can hardly believe that you’re still looking at him with the same bedroom eyes that you’ve been giving him since the night began. Just how much cock can you take, really?

“The mood lights shouldn’t be too dark, so don’t use flash,” you instruct him, handing Wonwoo his phone back with the Camera app already up and running. “Other than that, you’re free to do whatever you want to me, daddy.”

Wonwoo heaves yet another internal sigh as he positions himself between your legs, rubbing his half-hard cock along your ruined cunt. With a bated breath, he hits the Record button.

He hasn’t watched a lot of Twitter porn for a dozen reasons, but Wonwoo figures he shouldn’t get your face in the frame. Now that he’s finally in the shoes of whoever was fucking you from behind in the first clip he saw, he realizes it’s a little hard to keep filming this debauchery while subsequently trying not to lose his mind from how good your pussy feels. And he isn’t even inside you yet. Fuck.

The sensual way you move your body to meet his shallow thrusts makes him want to just chuck his phone back on the nightstand and ravish you all over again. But Wonwoo doesn’t do that. He simply continues with his ministrations, relishing in the cock-drunk look in your eyes once you reach out to pump his length in your smaller hand.

You don’t talk; neither does he. All that matters is the sensation of his cockhead sliding across your wet pussy lips while you jacked him off with a hazed out look in your eyes.

A possessive part of him takes great pride in knowing he’s the one making you feel like this; that he’s the reason behind that depraved expression you’re wearing. The moment you guide Wonwoo’s cock back into your tight channel, he uses his free hand to clamp his strong fingers around your throat—pressing down with just enough pressure to make you feel lightheaded.

The squelch of your cunt is sickeningly sweet, especially knowing that you still have his load inside you. Wonwoo is a bit too eager as he fucks his spend even deeper into your abused cunt, all while maintaining a steady grip on his phone as he captures all this on camera. He’s ruined you so badly that each time he slides himself to the hilt, he can see the creamy ring of your mixed juices at the base of his cock.

You’re driving him so fucking crazy, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

After a few experimental thrusts, Wonwoo picks up the pace—the grip he has on your throat tightening ever-so slightly. Just enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Fuck it.

He tosses his phone somewhere on the bed before moving to hook your legs over his shoulders. You shoot Wonwoo a bewildered look, a question already resting on your tongue, but the words are ground to dust when he pushes himself back into your sopping heat—deep enough that you can feel the fat head of his cock graze your cervix.

“Fuck, daddy!” you wail, completely helpless as Wonwoo pounds into you with unforgiving vigor. “So good… So fucking good.”

If you uttered those words the first time he fucked you earlier, he would’ve choked you out for going against his ‘don’t speak unless I say so’ rule. But Wonwoo is just so obsessed with the tight fit of your cunt fluttering around his cock that he can’t even find the headspace to be mad about your disobedience.

“You’re such a greedy fucking slut,” he growls, nipping the lobe of your ear. “Can’t get enough of this cock? You had to come onto me and let me ruin you twice in a single night?”

The only response you can come up with is a high-pitched keen of his name as Wonwoo feels your cunt pulsate around him, squeezing his cock so fucking tight as you lose yourself to your nth orgasm. He hisses as he pulls himself out of the velvet heat of your pussy, jerking himself a few times before he’s painting your tits with white ribbons of cum.

Wonwoo delights himself with the sight of his emission shining atop the marks he’s left on your body, and even entertains the thought that he won’t ever mind seeing such a sight again.

It takes about thirty minutes for you and Wonwoo to clean up—at his insistence, of course. After all, if he’s going to break you apart, it’s only fair for him to put you back together once all’s said and done.

For some reason though, you haven’t stopped looking at him weirdly as he runs a clean washcloth all over your spent body. Like the concept of aftercare is something completely foreign to you. But instead of bringing it up, you ask Wonwoo if you can borrow his phone again, and all he gives you is a small grunt of affirmation before padding over to the en-suite to get himself cleaned.

“You didn’t stop recording when you tossed it away?” He hears you laugh from the bedroom. “Oh my god…”

He didn’t…? Oh, well. He was too goddamn horny to notice anyway.

Wonwoo gets dressed while you continue tinkering with the video he took on his phone—airdropping it to yours so you could do a couple of changes. Turns out, there are a couple of instances where your face got caught in the frame, and you’re going to have to crop it and trim out the part where you’re audibly moaning each other’s names if you want to keep committing these acts of deviance on the side.

“Gotta say though, you’re a natural at getting my good angles,” you say, sounding completely pleased. “I wouldn’t mind having you over again~”

“Don’t push your luck.” He scoffs as he fastens the string of his sweats and puts his glasses back on.

But the two of you know he’ll be back either way.

When Wonwoo gets back to the apartment, he finds Mingyu lounging in front of the TV despite it being almost three in the morning. Something about marathoning a new drama that Wonwoo might’ve heard in passing. As exhausted as he is, he decides not to reprimand Mingyu altogether and marches straight to his room.

But just as he’s about to collapse straight into bed, his phone buzzes with another notification that makes him click his tongue in annoyance. It’s been going off non-stop since he left your place, but he didn’t pay it much mind since he assumed they were all Twitch and Discord notifs. Some of his friends did like pinging him unnecessarily even in the dead of night.

Although when Wonwoo realizes they’re Twitter notifications, he pauses.

He muted the notifs on his Twitter account ages ago.

Confused, he takes off his glasses and places them on the nightstand, eyes narrowed when he realizes a new account has been logged onto his phone. An account that just happened to tweet the same video he just took on his phone not two hours earlier.

🐈 • @ goodcat_badcat miss me? 💦

As fate might have it, a text notification hovers on top of his screen—with a contact name he doesn’t remember putting himself, but recognizes all the same.

🐈: hope you enjoyed the show, daddy <3

As he reads through the text, he wonders distantly when this will all come back to bite him in the ass.

But then again, Wonwoo really couldn’t care less.

part one - part two - part three - part four

end notes: hehe i really enjoyed writing this, so i hope you enjoyed reading as well! this is actually slated to have a second part sometime in the future, but for now, i think it'll do well as a standalone. i'll let wonwoo and reader fool around with their spicy sex life first before giving them ~feelings~ to worry about ^__^

this is part of the game over series!

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #wonwoo smut #wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #streamer au #lovelyhan #🐇 1k #🐇 500 #full length fic 📚

3K notes · View notes

sweetpascal · 2 months

Note

omg looove this idea!! hmm, perhaps prompt 7 from list 3? with our boy frankie?? 🥵 only if such a pairing tickles your fancy, of course!

main prompts post

#7 from prompt list no. 3

⤷ finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc)

oh absoLUTELY this tickles my fancy. call me a pescatarian cause i love me some Catfish (ew that was such a bad joke, i even made myself cringe. please ignore that dad joke.) 😭

pairing: frankie morales x fem!reader

— summary: when dancing on your husband accidentally makes him pop a boner, frankie takes it upon himself to drag the two of you away to relieve that stress.

— warnings: husband + wife trope. hatless frankie. frisky dancing. groping. heavy make out session. no foreplay. spit as lube. standing doggy. size kink. brief daddy kink. sprinkle of mirror sex too hehe.

— wc: 3.2k (i'm surprised i kept it below 5k tbh)

this boink part is inspired by this spicy twitter video ;)

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

The idea to host a New Year's party was Benny's. Often referred to as the group's golden retriever, he has an innate charm that draws people to him, enabling him to make friends effortlessly. As the youngest among his three friends and blessed with boyish, attractive features, it's no wonder he has numerous friends beyond Santiago, Frankie, and his older brother, Will. He's made acquaintances at the gym, dive bars, and even grocery stores. Benny has a knack for talking his way into and out of situations, often avoiding parking fines and more serious troubles. However, that's not the focus. When Benny organizes a gathering, he spares no expense on food, beverages, music, and decor. New Year's, after all, is a celebration of new beginnings.

There you and your husband, Frankie, were, at the black-and-white masquerade party. You donned a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure, featuring a deep back and slender straps, complemented by a delicate pearl necklace resting on your collarbones. Frankie was dressed in his finest black trousers, a snug black t-shirt tucked into them with a belt, and a black blazer. His outfit struck the perfect balance for Benny's theme, being neither too ostentatious nor too simple. Fortunately, masks were provided at the party, so that was one less thing to consider.

The music was loud, and the atmosphere was lively. You had lost track of the others some time ago, but Frankie remained by your side, steadfast as glue to paper. Aware that parties weren't really his scene, especially considering his age and dislike for crowded spaces, you found a quiet corner. Gently pulling on his hand, you guided him to stand against the wall. The bass pulsed through you, a constant presence. Your mask concealed your forehead, eyes, and nose, leaving only your lips and chin visible. Frankie's mask was a different hue but similar to yours. Despite the strobe lights, it was clear his gaze hadn't strayed from you, not since you left home.

"Are you doing okay?" you asked, loud enough for him to hear, your hands gently gripping his shoulders for balance. Frankie leaned into you, his large hands settling on your hips as he nodded in response to your question and gave a thumbs up. You returned the nod and placed a soft kiss on the bald spot along his jaw.

The sensation of alcohol settling in your body is unmistakable. The buzzing in your veins, the warmth spreading through your chest, and the tingling sensation all over become increasingly pronounced. As the music shifts to a rhythm that's easy to dance to, you find yourself easily moving to the beat. Frankie's hands were still on your hips as you turned in his hold with your back now pressed into his chest. Your eyes closed as you felt yourself getting lost in the music. His crotch was pressed into your backside, and so you leaned forward to put your hands on your knees, arched your back, and began to grind your ass against him to the beat of the music.

You obviously can't hear his reaction, but you can definitely feel it. His hardness is thick against your ass, and you feel it slotting between your cheeks each time you bump and grind against him. It got to a point where a small crowd gathered around you both to cheer you on, even going as far as to record you twerking on your husband. People hooted and hollered. With a beaming, embarrassed smile, you stood up straight and wrapped your arms around Frankie's neck, giggling into his neck as he gave your ass a hearty swat.

"You're fucking killing me," he groans in your ear, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. "Let's go."

With a startled yelp, Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you through the crowd. You focus on his tall figure and broad shoulders as he makes his way to an unknown destination, deliberately bumping into people blocking his path. Keeping up with his quick pace is a struggle. As he bounds up the stairs two at a time to reach the second floor, your heels come off in the haste.

"Frankie! Slow down, you big lug!" you shout, but it's no use. Whether he's ignoring you on purpose or the music drowns out your voice, he doesn't slow down.

The music had become distant and muffled. As Frankie reached the third floor, the Miller Residence felt almost like a mansion, enveloped in near silence. His large hand remained clamped around your wrist as he frantically opened every door he came across, yet none seemed suitable to enter. The question burning on your lips faded away when he swung open the fifth door, revealing a spotless bathroom. Casting a glance over your shoulder, he guided you inside with a hand at your waist.

"Frankie, what're we doing--"

You're immediately silenced when he yanks off his mask and takes yours off as well, followed by his plump lips frantically kissing your own. Moans are muffled as Frankie pushes you against the sink and starts tugging the straps of your dress down your shoulders until it pools at your feet. Confused and extremely aroused, you realize what exactly he wants and why he wants it. He lets out a husky moan and pulls away from your lips as though he was forced to. A thin string of saliva connecting your lips is wiped away with his thumb. As you glance down at his lips, you can see your lipstick smudged all over him.

"I'm going to fuck you right here, right now," he tells you, and his tone holds no room left for discussion. When Frankie is pleasure-drunk, all coherent thoughts leave his mind. When he's horny horny, the man will fuck you regardless of where you are or what you're doing. Even at his age, your husband's stamina is quite impressive.

He kisses you again as you struggle with his belt. His tongue, warm and so wet, invades your mouth and licks you all over. His teeth bite, nibble, and suck on your tongue and lips. Lewd smacking sounds fill the empty space of the bathroom. It's so wet and frantic and dirty. Spit slides down your chin and Frankie groans huskily as it smears on his own chin.

With fumbling hands, you successfully open his belt and pop open the button of his slacks, frantically sliding down the zipper and shoving your hand inside to stroke his hard cock through his boxers. Frankie moans deeply, hot air puffing across your kiss-swollen lips. Your thumb circles around the tip and you can feel a wet spot through the fabric. The throbbing in your core is nearly painful, so you squeeze your thighs together to try to provide some relief.

"You feel that? You feel what you did to me? Grinding that ass all over my dick and expecting me not to do something," he grits, his eyes black with lust and jaw clenching as your hand tightens around the base of his thickness, stroking up and down and twisting your wrist when you reach the tip.

You have no time to respond as he pulls your hand away from inside his slacks and spins you around with such force that you stumble and catch yourself on the bathroom counter. As you look in the mirror, you realize the extent of your disheveled appearance. Your lipstick is smeared all over your chin, your eyes are half-lidded and glazed over, saliva shining all over your lips. You're a hot mess, all thanks to your horndog of a husband.

One of Frankie's large hands settles into the middle of your back, right between the shoulder blades, and he pushes you down so that you're now bent over the counter. Your body slouches so your left shoulder and the side of your head rests along the wall. Frankie's other hand cups the back of your right thigh, and he grips the meat before lifting your leg up to prop your knee on the edge of the counter. With that same hand, he pulls down his undone slacks and boxers, allowing his cock to spring up. It bobs up and down for a second. Your eyes follow the movement, and you let out a needy little sound that you try to muffle by biting on your thumb. It's no lie that he's well endowed; a delicious eight inches, three fingers thick, veiny with a slight curve, and nicely cut. A dark dusting of hair lays across his pelvis and you crave to lick up the happy trail.

"You're gonna get it, baby, don't worry," Frankie breathes out. He strokes his cock for a few seconds, feeling the throbbing intensify when he glances down and sees your wetness shining in the dim lighting. Your cunt flutters so prettily at him, almost begging for him to stuff it full and make the emptiness go away.

You watch through the mirror as Frankie spits into his palm and uses that to coat his cock. You can see his arm moving up and down as he strokes from base to tip; the wet sounds cause your cheeks to warm. There are only just a few seconds before he slides himself home. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror and steps closer to your backside. He guides himself into your leaking pussy with one slow thrust, allowing you to feel each and every inch he has to offer. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull. The positioning of you bent over the counter with your knee hiked up to rest on the edge has him reaching a lot deeper than usual.

"Fuck," Frankie shakily whispers as he looks down between your bodies to watch as your pussy eagerly swallows him up. He positions his left hand at the back of your neck, gripping gently and keeping you pinned against the wall. His other hand grabs onto the crease of your hip, and then he starts to really fuck you.

The first couple of thrusts were slow and deep. The added tightness of no prep beforehand has heat pooling heavily in the pit of both of your stomachs. Desperately trying to hold in your moans, you bite down harder on your thumb. Your hair is no doubt mess from the motions of your body rocking in time with his hips. You look into the mirror and finally let out a wanton moan when you see Frankie completely transfixed on his cock going in and out of your messy pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit--the position with your leg hiked up causes your pussy lips to spread further apart, which then exposes your swollen clit completely.

"I-I... ohmygod," your words are slurred as you try to speak coherently. Frankie lets out a pleasure hum in your direction, his hips now moving a tad bit faster. Your ass cheeks jiggle from his pelvis smacking against them. The hand on your hip smacks down onto the meat, his thick fingers gripping and grabbing eagerly. "Jus' like that!!"

"Yeah?" he grunts and leans over your slouched body, his lips pressed into the shell of your ear and his hot breath spewing across. "Daddy's hitting it good, isn't he? You take this dick so good, baby. Tell me you love it." He hikes your leg higher until your knee is practically inside the sink bowl. "Tell me how much you love this fuckin' dick." It's like a dam break as he growls the last sentence in your ear and nips your earlobe, being mindful of your dangly pearl earrings.

"Yesyesyes, I-I love it s-so much!!" You whined breathlessly, trying your hardest to tell him clearly just how much your love his cock and how good he's fucking you. As he repositions his stance and widens his legs, he starts to fuck you so hard and so deep that you lose your train of thought. Matter of fact, all thoughts are non-existent, and your brain is just a puddle of mush.

Frankie's breathing stutters when your pussy flutters around his cock. He hunches over and bites down on your shoulder before turning his head to bury his nose right below your ear. His hand around the back of your neck presses you further down as he plows faster into your body. The wet sounds of your dripping cunt, literally leaking all over him, are the only sounds filling the bathroom, aside from his heavy breathing and your squeaks.

"You take it so good, baby," he grunts like an animal, teeth bared, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He stands up to his full height and yanks your hips a few inches away from the sink, only hiking your leg higher on the counter, your knee nearly pressed into your chest.

"Fuck!" You managed to choke out, no longer able to swallow down your moans as the pressure in your gut tightens more and more. Eyes crossing and toes curling, your free hand--the one not trapped between your head and the wall--reaches out to hold onto the sink faucet. Frankie's cock is hitting you so good, his tip repeatedly punching that one spot that makes you go fucking crazy. "Kee-p go-ing... aaahhh!!... fuuuuuuck!" Your moans have now turned into groaning wails as your husband fucks you faster, harder, deeper, no longer holding back his brute strength.

"I know, baby, I know," Frankie huffs out a laugh that blends into a drawn-out moan. Both hands are now gripping onto your shoulders to pull you back in time with his forceful thrusts. The sopping sounds of his balls slapping against your clit, splattering wetness all over your inner thighs and his, makes his head fall back and his eyes clench shut.

Then, the countdown starts.

From all the way down to the first floor, you can faintly hear the crowd of people yelling out the numbers 45, 44, 43, 42...

Your bleary eyes open and you let out a choked sob when Frankie looks back at you through the mirror. He grinds his cock slow and deep to make your eyes roll right back into your skull. With one hand, he fists a chunk of your hair and towers over your slouched body, resuming the brutal pace he previously set. He tips your head up and uses the hand gripping your hair to shake you back and forth.

"Look at me," he orders, finally using his other hand to reach down and slide beneath your stomach to rub his middle and ring fingers around your clit in tight circles. "You better cum when they get to 1."

Half-lidded eyes meet his own through the mirror. Frankie's neatly styled hair was now a curly mess and falling across his forehead. His kiss-swollen lips were parted and he looks like he's about to fall apart any second.

The crowd chants 33, 32, 31, 30...

"All right, baby, c'mon," he rasps in your ear, grinning in drunken pleasure when your eyebrows tilt upward and you start letting out stuttered gasps. The rhythmic flutter of your pussy starts increasing when he rubs your needy clit up and down rather than in a circular motion. "Almost there..."

25, 24, 23, 22...

Frankie stands up straight for the last time and finally plows in and out of your soaking cunt, completely ravishing you and taking what you have no other choice but to give him in your pleasure-drunk state. The coiling gets tighter, damn near unbearable. It starts in the pit of your stomach and travels in opposite directions, going all the way to your inner thighs and to the tips of your toes and traveling up to the hardened nubs of your nipples.

18, 17, 16, 15...

"Give it to me, honey," Frankie is starting to lose control, his pace sloppy and his cock throbbing relentlessly as his heavy balls start to tighten. "You can do it, baby. Oooohh shit!! C'mon now. Do it for--fuucckk--me."

The hand at the back of your neck travels down your sweaty spine and clamps down on your hip to fuck into you. He smacks your ass and grunts heavily at the jiggle. He smacks your ass again, forcing a breathy wail from your bitten lips. He looks into the mirror and sees the expression on your face that tells him you're right on the edge. Your face is prettily scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed and lips forming a perfect O. Your hand desperately clings onto his wrist at your hip as you get onto your tiptoes. Your thighs begin to shake on their own and your vision becomes blurry.

9, 8, 7, 6...

"Ohmygod... ohmygod... ri-ight there!! Frankieee!!" Tongue feeling so thick in your mouth, you bite down on your bottom lip and fall completely flat with your chest firmly pressed onto the counter. Your hand smacks onto the mirror, sweaty fingerprints smudging the clean glass. "Ahh!! Aaahhh!!"

3, 2, 1...

"FUUUUUCK!!" You and Frankie simultaneously shouted at the top of your lungs as you came at the same time. Your swollen, ribbed walls contracted around his cock, sucking his cum straight from the tip and having him shoot it so deep in your cervix. The power of your orgasm has you spasming uncontrollably, your hand sliding down the mirror and frantically grabbing onto the faucet again. Wetness leaks down your inner thighs, no doubt being a mixture of yours and Frankie's combined cum. You can still feel his cock throbbing as his cock weakly shoots out the last bit of his seed.

There are a few seconds of silence as the two of you try to catch your breath. Your hair is a disheveled mess and covers the side of your face as you rest your head on the counter, still trying to keep your tremors under control. Your body is sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. Frankie's still clothed body is hunched over your back, his warmth burning through his clothes and layering onto your exposed skin. It was comforting, his natural heat and the weight of his body.

He stays inside of you, allowing himself to get soft as he finds comfort in the wetness and warmth of your pussy. There are still small flutters from the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Frankie lets out a deep chuckle and kisses your bare shoulder gently, trailing his kisses up your neck and finally laying one on your earlobe.

"Happy New Year," he murmurs, gently brushing your hair aside. A weary smile graces your lips, and a soft giggle escapes you. Below, the party picks up again, ringing in the new year with jubilation.

With a slight turn of your head, you plant a sweet kiss on his lips, followed by a light peck on the tip of his nose. "Happy New Year, Francisco," you whisper. Your gazes lock for a moment before he leans in for another gentle, lingering kiss.

A knock at the door breaks you two apart before Benny's voice echos through the wood, "When you two are done fucking in the guest bathroom, come downstairs and have some cake."

#frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfic #frankie catfish morales x reader #ask ally #almostfoxgloveᯓ★#prompt list

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ceilidho · 1 year

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some cod headcanons just for fun

this is based on a convo i was having with a twitter friend because i'm planning on writing a soap/reader fic at some point.

I don’t think soap is dumb at all, but he’s also a man in the military. There’s no way he’s using the right version of “your” in a sentence

“Your so beautiful” a REGULAR sentence he would type out

As much as I wanna make them larger than life, these characters gotta be SOMEWHAT grounded; Soap just isn’t a reader, there’s no way

Soap is the kind of guy that would go “yeah the last book i read was in high school 🤣🤣🤣🤣”

Now Gaz I think is and I think he makes fun of soap for his spelling

Gaz has “I attend uni while in the military” written all over him and he lords it over his less academic colleagues

Except Price, who reads old adventure books; he also reads books written by old explorers

Also, my controversial thought: I think Ghost can read but he hates it. Bad childhood didn’t leave him academically inclined

Actually I could go either way on this. I just don’t think he’s the kind of guy to sit down with a book

Like he’s a lieutenant I think he has to be literate, but I don’t think he does for pleasure

He definitely fishes when he’s on leave, or like he fixes up old cars and half-finishes sudoku books

IMO, Ghost is very mechanically inclined; like if he went to school in a different world he might make a good engineer

I ALSO think ghost has a soft spot for abandoned things and he probably has like a half feral cat and he probably also goes to lots of yard sales when he’s on leave

Just buys random shit

NO use for half the shit he’s hoarding but he has it all in a storage space - or in a property if he owns one instead of a flat

#cod mw2 #cod headcanons #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #ceil writing

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ventique18 · 8 months

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Let me start with saying i love your blog really really much, this is something that has been rent free on my mind since Diasomia's arc started, is Malleus' father a dragon fae? I read the translations of chap 7 and i don't think i saw it mentioned, they just stayed vague on what kind of fairy he was, many fans started saying he was not a dragon, if that would be the case doesn't that mean Malleus is an half-blood!? The dragon bloodline isn't pure!?

Meleanor rejected many dragon suitors to marry the person she loved, whoever he was, why not say if Levan was a dragon or not, this is stressing me out. Especially since i saw the Crowley's theory.

Hi thank you so much for this question! I actually also wanted to address this, as I've seen some people (particularly on Twst EN Twitter and Reddit fandoms) who believe that the "Malleus is half Long because Levan is a Long" theory is canon. It's actually just one of the common theories which are:

He is a Long prince/noble.

He is simply a Raven fae. This is also why many believe that Levan is Crowley as both ravens and crows are collectively karasu in Japanese.

Let me put on a disclaimer that I'm leaning more on the theory that Levan might not necessarily be Crowley, but he is indeed a Bird Fae-- because his name does sound like Raven in the Japanese language, and the fact that Malleus' Platinum Jacket portrait has both Maleficent and her loyal raven Diablo in it. You are correct that there was never an explicit reveal on what he was though.

~ A short explanation on the first theory ~

So how did the first theory come to be? Because his official title in Briar Kingdom is 竜眼公 lit. Dragon Eye Lord. Some people have taken this literally and assumed that it means Levan is a dragon; more specifically, a Long. That's because the 竜 in his title is a kanji character and Twst happened to exactly distinguish in the Endless Halloween event an Asian Long 竜 (in kanji alphabet), and a western dragon ドラゴン (in katakana alphabet). Malleus specifies that he is a ドラゴン.

Now while theorizing that Levan is a Long is somewhat valid, it's less likely. Because a) it's common practice in Japanese to use kanji in formal titles and unusual to use katakana which is why ドラゴン was not used, which means b) Levan's "Dragon Eye Lord" title is just to indicate that he is Meleanor's eyes, as Lilia described him in the same chapter. This is also what Diablo's role is in the original movie.

~ Commenting on the theory that Levan is a Bird Fae ~

This is the most likely logical theory at this point, and you're correct that this means Malleus is half a dragon, half a bird. However, it's looking more and more like the fae are going with Mendel's Law of Inheritance with the Draconias' genes as extremely dominant that all other genes mixed in become recessive. Which means that while they're technically not pure-blooded dragons, the dragon genes will always appear in full view anyway so they might as well be pure. This is probably why Lilia mentions that the Draconias are "descended from dragons" rather than simply dragons. They may have varying fae species packed in their blood, but the dragon genes just completely cover them like a wallpaper lol.

Thanks so much for asking this! It was a fun write!

#twisted wonderland #ventique rambles #malleus draconia #papa draconia #meleanor draconia #ventique answers

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monodramatic-cannibal · 2 months

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Refs done for my UToc :DD He's called Nix-Ceto. His blaster's don't really have names, but oh well lol.

He's open for asks and such, I also don't mind ocs interacting as well. (also I don't mind others ocs being related to his lore either lol)

More info under the cut

Head canon voice: toe - グッドバイ / Goodbye

More info on his design:

His height is 5,9

His clothing is made of somewhat waterproof fabric, so when water is available he may use it to travel as he finds it quicker to move around due to his tail allowing him to swim quicker

Tends to have triangle symbolism on his clothes that he wears, he does this subconsciously.

25% of the time he will have the fish blaster’s out just swimming along the air beside him. For no reason other than he likes watching them move around.

The sword and its case is something he can summon/desummon as well. But tends to have it with him 50% of the time since it does have a shoulder strap to carry it.

When his eyes flare with magic it flashes/fades back and forth from yellow to blue.His ecto colour is also blue on the outside and yellow in the middle. (sort of like the fish blasters ecto)

Will randomly lose teeth, but due to having shark teeth/very similar mouth to sharks the tooth will quickly be replaced.

Despite the somewhat formal fashion sense he tends to look a bit scruffy, hates it if anyone tells him to tidy himself up.

The gaster blasters are inspired by how @.tinylittlefox1 (Twitter) draws gaster blasters

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His magic:

Is able to summon multiple gaster blasters like normal Sanses, as well as the bone attacks and blue attacks.

His gaster blasters can go against his orders though, often doing different attacks e.g. instead of shooting a beam at someone they may bite someone instead. They might also not attack if Nix-Ceto doesn’t truly want to fight someone, or if someone had befriended the blasters.

Ceto also has two extra summons, in the ‘fish’ blasters, these can’t shoot beams but can create barriers/shields, can be used for multiple things, such as blocking attacks, trapping people, creating bridges, etc. He has more control over the fish blasters, but tends to let them do their own thing, since they seem to know the best times of when to defend him.

His other summon is his sword. His sword having a water effect whenever he swings it, and seems to create water when swinging it too, the more he swings it/the longer he uses it in a fight the more water it produces. Which Ceto will use to help in fights such as flicking this water in peoples faces to hopefully blind them for a second.

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Nix-Ceto (can have the nickname of Nix or Ceto) is a Sans that came from an au where he didn’t feel like he belonged, having a very hazy memory, and no memories of childhood. It turning out he came from a different au, and basically took the place of the Sans in this new au. He still did care for the friends in this au, and still viewed the Papyrus as his brother. But finding out he didn’t really belong here it inspired him to try to find where he did come from.

After an encounter with Dream, Dream helped him discover the fact he has the ability to open portals to other aus. Which leads him to now take the nickname Nix-Ceto to differentiate himself from the other Sanses. Out of respect for Dream he also goes round dealing with the smaller problems that don’t have the attention of the multiverse guardians. He does this to try to relieve Dream of some stress not having more problems, and also because Ceto wants more allies on his side.

Over time his focus became less on trying to find his og au and more so just making memories and figuring out secrets and mysteries within the multiverse.

Nix-Ceto is described as a quiet cold individual by most people that meet him. But the few that actually take time to get to know him a little bit better discover he is an individual that cares a lot for others, that is willing to fight alongside others to help them achieve their hopes and dreams. Though the ones who get to know him also complain about the fact he never says goodbye when leaving.

Ceto never says goodbye since he thinks goodbyes are sad. What's the point in saying goodbye if they might meet again, and what's the point in saying goodbye if you're not to meet again. Ceto has a realistic view on life, verging into pessimistic way of viewing things. But he still holds onto what he views as good, and cherishes connections that he makes in the multiverse.

He doesn’t mind teaming up with others, and wouldn’t mind if others were to travel with him from time to time. Him often acting as a beacon of hope for others who want to see the multiverse and find their place. Ceto has seen plenty of travel partners come and go, and tends to remember each of them, and will even pass along their stories not letting the memories of their adventures go.

(if anyone wants to have any of their utau oc’s lore connected to Nix-Ceto’s story, e.g. as one of the people who traveled with him or is currently traveling with him, go for it lol. I don’t mind peoples ocs interacting with mine.)

(also this info on him might be subject to change, and I may add more to it over time lol)

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elumish · 1 day

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I talk about what writers should do a lot, so now I'm going to take a break and talk about some reforms that I think agents should make.

A caveat: I am not an agent! Unlike when I talk about writing, I am just talking about this as an author who happens to be in the midst of querying. If I have an followers who are agents who think I'm getting something wrong, please let me know!

That said, here I go:

Trad publishing is, fundamentally, about getting past a whole bunch of layers of gatekeepers, and agents are the first gatekeepers. With some very limited exceptions, you can't be trad published without having an agent. From what I can tell, being an agent is a bit of a thankless job--it's based on commission, so an agent only gets money if they are selling their clients' books. (Remember: the money flows towards the writer. If someone claiming to be an agent is telling you that you need to pay them to represent you, run.)

Because of this structure, agents have a massive amount of power over unagented authors, particularly because unagented authors simply do not have another option if they want to trad publish. It is my opinion that that power dynamic is part of the reason why querying actually sucks so unbelievably much for authors.

Now, part of why querying sucks is that it's a numbers game, which means that most of us will lose. Every writer is competing against a gazillion other writers, some of whom are better or writing things that are seen as more sellable or happen to be eariler or whatever. You are going to get a bunch of rejections, and that's not the fault of agents.

But here's the other problem:

There are, from what I can tell, no true industry standards and somewhat limited professional expectations for agents when it comes to how to deal with querying. Again, this is what it looks like from the outside--agents, if I'm getting this wrong, please let me know.

For example, many agencies and many agents will have different rules about what you can submit to them and how, and in many cases those rules are in somewhat arbitrary places, which means that querying authors have to hunt for them, and it's easy to run afoul of them even when you're trying. It's common for some agencies to say that you can't query two agents from the same agency at the same time, but some say that you can't query two agents from them ever--a rejection from one is a rejection from all.

But most agents' Twitter bios/MSWL pages/personal pages/etc. don't say that--which means that authors need to hunt through every individual agency's webpage and then cross-reference against every agent that they have ever queried previously, which can be arduous when many people are querying dozens or hundreds of agents. It also means needing to keep track of things like when agents switch agencies.

There are also no standard expectations for agents to actually respond to queries in any sort of time span, or at all, which complicates the above issue even more. But it also is just (imho) kind of unprofessional to ghost people who are seeking a professional relationship with you, when you have explicitly asked them to reach out to you seeking that professional relationship.

And to make that worse, many agents don't say whether or not they respond to all queries, meaning that authors are often left wondering if a 6-month or longer wait is a "no" or an "I haven't gotten to this yet but will definitely respond to you."

There are more issues that I could cite, but my overall point in this is that authors have no recourse here. There's not authors' union, no way to go on strike until agents change what they're doing.

And some agents are really awesome about this! But enough are not, and authors don't really know what they're going to get when they query someone.

So all of this is to say that, if you are an agent, here are some fairly easy changes I would love for you to make to your own behavior to make querying a little bit less of a nightmarish hellscape for authors (and thank you so much if you already do some or all of these):

Respond to every query that you receive

Tell people your general response times and be communicative if that changes. It's okay if it regularly takes you six months! Just tell us it regularly takes you six months, so we're not left wondering if we've been ghosted at four months

Outline all submission guidelines on Query Manager or where you accept queries, including things like a) rules about whether a rejection from one is a rejection from all, b) length expectations for things like synopses (I've seen a range), and c) any other expectations you have (e.g., you require trigger warnings). Don't make people hunt through 2-4 websites to find what you want

Stop asking or at least strongly rethink how you ask about Own Voices or why an author feels like they are qualified to write about a marginalized identity--I understand the impulse, but nobody should be expected to disclose medical or other personal information like that in a professional setting

Also, just to say (other than please don't reject my query because of this post), agents: authors really do appreciate the work you all do. I want someone to work with to get published, because I am very well aware that I am not the expert in this situation.

And again, please tell me if I got anything wrong or misrepresented anything.

#publishing #traditional publishing #querying

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novembermorgon · 5 months

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hihi not sure how fond myrielle and aerion are of each other (would love to know more about their dynamic if you are willing to share <3) but they remind me of the “who tf is burning down my kitchen” “making breakfast for my beautiful wife” twitter meme

anon ... i giggled .

as for marriage dynamics well .. i feel like by default any relationship with a guy everyone hates for good reason is going to be a bit strained . but somehow they're both kind of deranged enough to make it work (er.. well... somewhat...).

ive talked very briefly about it in my little myrielle post already but it kind of had to grow into anything beyond hating each other . right when myrielle gets to court she holds a lot of resentment toward him, mainly because he's the second son of a fourth son - not really heir to anything, and even when she's young she wants to aim higher than that with her betrothal. she spends a lot of time pining after the concept of another man that she deems 'better' (valarr, matarys, even daeron etc - the actual people matter less than the fact that they're further up in the succession than aerion) just because she's decided to herself that she deserves more. a little girl playing into the idea of being a wife and centering her whole worldview about that ala really twisted westerosi expectations and societal structures

it's kind of what you'd expect from two very willful very spoiled preteens; a lot of petty squabbles and little disagreements that have them bickering and squabbling and it's a bit of a mess . in time though it breezes over kind of because they both grow up and 'mature' in the sense that they aren't calling each other stupid and pushing each other over in the yard anymore LOL

by the time they're married ... well . it's .... . myrielle is fond of him and finds him handsome and dashing while they're in public and in private he at least treats her well a couple days a week which is enough . i think it's very shallow in the sense that ... i'm not sure if they ever truly know each other fully . myrielle projects her ambitions onto him and steadily heads down her path to making sure he becomes king (after the tourney at ashford meadow and the great spring sickness when things get a little crazy in how many targs are dying off) and aerion projects some idea of the wife he'd imagined himself to want onto her . in my mind he's kind of giving targ man too caught up in the idea of his ancestry and his family traditions given his whole deal with the dragon delusions etc so its lots of hey what if you pretend like you're (targ woman of his choosing) and ill be (her evil husband) and then we'll be a Proper Couple instead of a Fake Arrangement between me (perfect prince) and a lesser non-targ woman . you can see that there might be some issues here .

definitely not good . they hold resentment for each other mutually for a variety of reasons but theres also some deep seated dedication there especially from myrielle . she gets so deep into the thought of the both of them rising further than they're expected to that she in turn essentially drops everything for him and makes a lot of questionable choices and does a lot of questionable things to keep him happy and to assist him in whatever way she thinks he needs . i feel like she gets very caught up in the idea of really feeding into the idea aerion has of their marriage . tries to play into the thought of being more of a targaryen and tries to shift and change herself which never really works because she does treasure her own family and her identity but also because things just don't go the way she wants .

errr. ride or die i guess but it's weirrddddddd . which is funny to say because in practice they both cheat on each other and lie to each other and fight and bicker but they keep going back for more . why...? well.. maybe duty maybe genuine care maybe a third more evil option. me when i go out and cheat on my wife but its okay because i come back and bring her nice gifts and we do our historical targ roleplay which isn't weird at all guys i promise please guys listen its not weird its not w

rubs my chin. a lot of thoughts but i'm bad at putting them into words. i hope this is anything . probably not. one day you'll get something better from me .... .... <3

#txt #asks #oc #oc tag #aerion targaryen #aerion brightflame #myrielle tag #oc art

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pseudophan · 3 months

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i know i’ve sent you two asks about the phandom racism and i’m certain others have also sent you asks, will you ever address it?

i’ve been thinking about this a lot recently with everything that’s been going on in the phandom, particularly on twitter although racism is by no means a twitter exclusive phenomenon and acting like everyone on tumblr is perfect would be disingenuous. i agree i can and should be doing more, and many years ago when i was less perpetually afraid of saying something wrong i was a lot better at it, but these days i find myself avoiding anything and everything that’s at all uncomfortable because i know i SEVERELY lack the emotional maturity to deal with it if i fuck it up. none of this should be about me but i’m painfully aware that the second i feel attacked in any way, usually doesn’t mean anyone is actually attacking me, i get obnoxiously petulant and suddenly it’s ‘well SORRY that i’m not PERFECT i guess i’ll DIE’. which is fucking stupid and embarrassing and not remotely productive. and then five minutes later i come to my senses and panic cause why did i say that? i know no one is actually attacking me, there is no reason to act like this. but in the moment i don’t have that reflection, and in desperately trying to avoid getting in trouble by saying the wrong thing i think i’ve gone too far the other way by not saying anything at all and now seem like i just don’t give a fuck. how i do or don’t come across is obviously not the issue at hand here, but i know i’ve got somewhat of a platform and it’s a shame i’m not using it the way it could be used, and i really do want to improve that.

the phandom often prides itself on being an inclusive and diverse space, and while that is true on the surface we don’t get to embrace that if we can’t even make sure everyone feels safe here

(please don't take this as my attempt to address the racism, this is all just me really poorly explaining why i haven't, if that makes sense)

#i will also say i doubt people need MY input per say #like the white norwegian isn't gonna provide any groundbreaking observations about racism #do correct me if i'm wrong i just don't think my voice is the one that needs to be heard #but i can at the very least share what other more eloquent people than me are saying #at the same time though as it shouldn't be poc's responsibility to lead the entire conversation like i don't know what's right here #am i making any sense at all i so desperately don't want to be misunderstood #answered

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joyce-stick · 7 months

Text

An Essay About Slash Review of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, A Video Game Which is Very Good

(and also: has prompted many quite wrong rather bad takes)

An essay by Audrey of the joystick system

The very bad discourse and drama around The Coffin of Andy and Leyley has served to obscure the simple fact that it is quite a very good video game and this video essay is here to tell you about that.

Video version:

youtube

Previous video essay: Lost Judgment's Lost Plot

If you enjoy this essay, please consider following us here or on any other platforms, and/or donating to support future works via our Patreon or Ko-fi.

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Transcript:

Hi everyone. So. The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is really, really fucking good.

If you’ve heard of this game, you’ve probably heard of it in the context of memes, screenshots divorced from context, and/or capricious moral outrage. If you’ve not heard of this game, well, you’re hearing of it now! And good thing, too, because much of the coverage and discussion around this game that already exists has… been, let’s just say, not particularly earnest. I hope to remedy that at least somewhat with this video.

If you’ve heard about this game because of discourse, and come here expecting drama and hot takes, then, this may not be your video. Or your YouTube channel, even. Or maybe it is, if you’d like the delicious comments section. If you’re that sort of clicker, though— welcome! I’m Audrey of the joystick system, and this is the place where I (and my headmates) talk honestly about things we care about, and I hope you’ll hear me out a little and maybe consider staying and improving our viewer retention. Thanks, if you do.

So, to writ: My purpose today is to gush. I will be gushing here. For most of it. And as for what I will be gushing about, some of it will be gushing BLOOD, GUTS, AND DELICIOUS DEATH. I am entirely serious. The subject of today’s presentation contains mature content, including copious foul language and themes slash depictions of death, cannibalism, cultism, demon summoning rituals, parricide, dystopian social decay, and heterosexuality. Oh, and also a little bit of incest as a treat, I guess, but the incest is heterosexual, and that’s worse.

[long pause]

Excellent. You’re still here. So. This morbidly beautiful video game may not be for everyone, but that’s good, because it is instead for exactly me! A short plot synopsis of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley might go as follows:

if you're not watching the video listen to this for extra effect

Siblings Andrew and Ashley Graves are forcibly quarantined inside their apartment by the local authorities, with no food and even less hope for rescue. Their parents have abandoned them. Absolutely no one is coming to save them. In order to survive and escape this awful situation, they butcher and consume the fresh flesh of some guy who got himself soul vored by a demon that he summoned without a plan.

This conspicuously carnivorous crime, and their effort to cover their tracks, puts them in a fair bit of a deeper shithole than they are already in. So naturally they keep digging themselves deeper by committing even more crimes, AND in the process, also dig themselves deeper into their toxic codependent sibling relationship, which is going just great, thank you. Sure, Andrew almost killed his sister, but he didn’t, and that’s what matters! And she still loves him, so it’s all good!

This is of course a joke.

First thing I absolutely love about this game is the writing. It’s witty, intelligent, uncompromising, and just generally delicious. It holds nothing back in depicting the toxicity of the two leads and their relationship, resulting in two compelling characters whose flaws and few virtues perfectly complement slash exacerbate one another, resulting in a beautiful train wreck of a relationship dynamic that proves equal parts disturbing, mesmerizing, and hilarious.

The charming darkly comedic bite of the writing style also lends a lot of great character to the setting. This sardonically presented dystopian world is both richly detailed and fleetingly elaborated on, a commendable balance to have achieved, in my opinion. The first chapter of this game is hilarious not just because of the banter between Ashley and Andrew (which is terrific), but because it presents such a sharp satire of current year bullshit.

As just an example, I give you, one of my favorite jokes in the game:

I probably don’t need to explain the thing this is making fun of to you, but I will anyway.

The situation presented in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley’s first episode is very easily readable as an allegory for how disasters that are a direct result of ongoing 2020s late capitalist decay continuously fuck people over. In particular, this scenario feels like a direct commentary on both the COVID-19 pandemic as well as the Flint, Michigan water crisis. The former obviously has affected way more people but what both have in common is that they are crises created and exacerbated by malfeasance and/or negligence committed in the name of for-profit interests, and that the “response,” to them, such as there was one, has amounted to dehumanizing and marginalizing the victims while minimizing the issue, forcing the victims out of society’s wider view, and being reticent to punish the individuals responsible.

Just as the authorities responded to the water crisis and the worst excesses of the pandemic in real life, the authorities in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley impose half-measures designed to further restrict the freedom of the dirty undesirables who bear the worst damages, while merely shielding the upper echelons of society from the disaster rather than actually addressing or attempting to solve the issue. Most of you who lived through 2020 in the United States probably have experienced the frustration of being on the receiving end of this kind of policy.

During the pandemic, the quarantine was supposed to protect us, but for a lot of people it ended up doing quite the opposite. A lot of folks didn’t have any savings, and couldn’t get any since the employment market wasn’t exactly on fire, and our representatives had to be bothered way too much just to put out a pithy economic stimulus just to save face. Not to say that this all has stopped, exactly, as all that’s changed now is that we’re just, living with this situation, but.

It wasn’t literally a cop outside everyone’s door preventing them from going outside to not die, but for a lot of people, it might as well have been that! Never mind those who, y’know, had no inside to retreat to. Or were imprisoned during the pandemic and left even more unprotected! Or thrown out by their landlords! And so on. And, y’know, the big chain grocery stores keep throwing out all the perfectly good unsold food, so they’re already sending this message in all but, well… these exact words.

So, that’s why I think this joke lands. It’s exaggerated, but familiarly rooted, and that’s just good satire! It’s a joke which feels lifted right out of Invader Zim, which, I would put The Coffin of Andy and Leyley right about on the level of as far as both the tone it’s going for and the quality of its execution. Which of course, brings us to the extremes that these circumstances push its characters, and its plot, to.

Okay, so, also like Invader Zim, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is hardly a polemic, nor is it a morality tale. Sure, there’s social commentary in it, but that’s just a nice side thing. It’s not a story about the otherwise innocent victims of an unjust society who are pushed to do terrible things by circumstances outside their control— it is, rather a story of terrible people, who, both because of their character failings, and the desperate situations they find themselves in, find themselves doing even worse things.

Andrew and Ashley commit the cannibalism the first time in large part because they kind of have to do it. No food! Cop outside their door actively deterring them from getting food! Out of options! So they do it. They could probably be excused, if only they were given a fair trial. Which they realize they’re not going to get. So yeah. It’s understandable that they do it. And that they kill this one cop, who very much has it coming.

But they do not have to keep doing it! And gosh grief, do they keep fucking doing it— so many its. They really do not stop digging that hole that they are in. Even the first time that they do the cannibalism, when they kind of really have to do the cannibalism, Ashley is just a little bit more excited about doing the cannibalism than she probably should be.

I love this kind of delicious edgy dark humor. I love stories that go for it, imagine the worst possible people they can, and also try to make that funny. I love this about Invader Zim, that it presents a character who is unquestionably a monster, but also has relatable human desires like wanting to fit in and being concerned about looking weird or abnormal, but has those feelings for very different reasons and acts on them by committing some very despicable crimes. It really gets at a deep-seated darkness that I and a lot of other fucked up traumatized queer people who were little kids when this show aired have, the catharsis of visualizing some of our worst intrusive thoughts while evoking the emotions that pushed us to imagine this kind of fucked up shit.

I’ve loved this kind of thing since we saw Heathers when we were 14. Heathers is an absolutely incredible film that you should check out, by the way, and about which we failed to properly or interestingly articulate our thoughts a few years back. Its lead protagonists, Jason “J.D.” Dean and Veronica Sawyer, are similarly relatable characters who have familiar feeling flaws and emotionally resonant trauma hangups, and also function as very toxic enablers of each other’s worst traits, leading them to work through those feelings by, y’know, murdering their classmates!

Heathers made us realize just how exactly mentally ill of a 14 year old we really were when we were 14, and I love it for that. So. So fucking much.

That was ten years and change ago.

We are still a mentally ill 24 year old.

And Andrew and Ashley Graves, if I had to sum them up, are basically J.D. and Veronica, if they were in their twenties, siblings, and also way, way, way worse.

And I love them.

So, obviously. Ashley and Andrew are hilarious. At least, I find them to be such. They’re terrible, and awful, and amazing, and Ashley is such a girlboss. She is one of the most God Forbid Women Do Anything characters ever.

Anyway! I’ve talked about the cannibalism, and the dystopia, and the characters, and why all of that’s good. I’ve also forgotten to talk about the part where they evade an assassin, and, also a host of other things.

I love that this game has so many fun little optional interactions with NPCs, objects, and items, that you can totally miss. I love how the narration hints at the solutions to puzzles by snarkily referring to things you can interact with as what their purpose is to the characters rather than what they are, this quip about the mop that you clean up a murder scene with, the interactions that Andrew has with these cultists who suck at demon summoning, the excellent in-game art and the brilliant visual duality of Andrew and Ashley’s character designs, this line where Andrew is upset that life is so hard for them as fugitives from the law because they can only find this one shitty motel that takes cash and doesn’t ask them for their ID, and also the music, which is royalty free music made by people unassociated with the developer but is nonetheless perfectly suited for the game.

So much about this game is stuff I find so completely brilliant, and I have so little to criticize, that I think we’d probably be here all day if I kept going. So.

Let’s spend a thousand ish more words talking about the parents.

When The Coffin of Andy and Leyley begins, the protagonists’ parents are absent. You can optionally find two early references to them early on— one, if you interact with the bed in their bedroom, and encounter the shocking revelation that “Your parents have FUCKED on this bed.”

The second, is if you interact with the phone, the game dutifully informs you that,

You’re probably less than five minutes into the game at this point, barely begun solving the first puzzle, which prompted you to “find nutrients to not die.” And of course, this says about all you need to know. These children have been abandoned. But if it needed to be any clearer, the game later delivers unto you a flashback to prior in the story, when Ashley desperately calls Mrs. Graves for help after they leave and go move to a hotel, and later a new house, to which the kids are of course not invited. And this specific scene, specific line, here, fucking hit me:

“And I don’t want to hear these lies about starving anymore.”

Emphasis mine.

Even as Ashley and Andrew escalate the severity of their crimes which gradually come to have less and less to do with their need to survive as the story goes on, I find it very hard to not be on their side at least a little bit, and this is easily the biggest reason why.

I have had this phone call.

Not this exact specific phone call, of course. Obviously, I’ve never been locked up in an apartment with an armed patrol outside my door whose job it was to gaslight me while ensuring that I starved to death. Obviously, my mom has never said those exact words.

But gosh grief and fuck me if it’s never felt like she has. She may as well have fucking told me that, with all the things she told me I was lying about. And who fucking knows, maybe she did say those exact words to us, and we repressed them. I don’t know. I am very not done working through all the bullshit that she gaslit us over.

*sighs, preparing to vent*

I have called our mother and had to beg her to pay for food. I have called her and had to beg to pay for our rent, while our parents were supposed to be supporting us studying abroad. I have called her and begged her to forgive me for daring to use just a few of the thirty dollars our parents used to send us to live with every month back then, to buy a drink or a movie ticket or something. I have had to concede to our parents financially holding us hostage, had to go the last week of the month on a shoestring diet while waiting for them to graciously deposit another thirty dollars into our bank account... so that we could continue eating. I used to relish February, the shortest month, for being the one part of the year in which I had to stretch out that thirty dollars the least. And once, I pleaded with our mother to pay for us to move to another apartment when the landlord suddenly kicked us out of the current one, abruptly and obligatorily switching gears from arguing with her to kissing her ass through our gritted teeth, under threat of our parents cutting off their financial support of us completely, abandoning us in a foreign country where we had no money, no job, and barely spoke the language.

And one day, after I stopped dancing to their tune, they just stopped listening, stopped even pretending to want to help. After nineteen years of escalating emotional and physical abuse and neglect, they abandoned us. And one day, after I spent months working 10 hour days every week Ubering food around for tips, sending my resume, filling applications, making calls, stopping into places to ask for work, all to no avail, for months, and desperately plugging the Patreon page of this very YouTube channel praying that some generous soul with money to burn would solve all our problems. All of this still wasn’t enough, and wasn’t going anywhere, and I’d run out of money and was short on rent on the one sublet room we could get that cost exactly three hundred dollars…

And I called her, and I asked her for help. I really didn’t want to. I wanted to hear nothing of her again. And she said to stop lying. To stop bullshitting her that I couldn’t get enough money, or find a job.

Not too long after, I swore off all contact with her, and eventually also with our father. And every time I have spoken to either of them since, I have made no secret of how I feel. Because if I get nothing out of kissing their ass, why fucking pretend.

My family is not poor. They own their house. They own, and leased out, a second house. Their house is full of fancy IKEA furniture and various other niceties, they’ve renovated the place at least twice, they live in a nice, safe neighborhood, they have an attic and a basement, they at one point paid for multiple plane tickets for us per year while still refusing to let us eat on any more than thirty five dollars, an extra five dollars we also had to beg them for. Our dad has a lucrative tech job. All of this, and they insisted, while refusing to answer questions about their finances in any detail, that they couldn’t afford to help us go to where we wanted to go for college, that they had no place for us in their house, that they couldn’t afford three hundred dollars of rent to help us have a roof over our head for one more month.

So when I read this delightful jaunt of a chapter of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, where Andrew and Ashley break into their parents’ new huge house to steal all their shit, and Ashley says “This is some rich people stuff!” about their fireplace,

And when their mom says, “there’s no room to keep housing you here indefinitely,” and the internal monologue says, “even though it’s way bigger than the old house.” It’s both an entertaining mockery of the attitude of the typical American family, how first you’re your parents’ property for eighteen years and then you’re turned out on your own to face the world without their support, and how the fuck are you supposed to live like that, to figure out how to live your life in the face of that, to meaningfully be a fulfilled person in that situation, especially in a time, when, no, mom, I can’t pay a college tuition on a waitress salary like you did back in the fucking nineties, you c--t,

Even though they have an extra bed in their basement and a perfectly good couch and plenty of space for another bed besides, and a vegetable garden, and a kitchen, and all these other middle-class petty bougie niceties, the Graves mom says, “sorry, we can’t keep helping you,” and. And. I read all this, and I think,

“I understand why Ashley wants to fucking flay these people. I understand why she wants to K1!L them.”

I cannot tell you how much catharsis the ending of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley episode 2 gave me. I cannot convey the weight of my gratitude that someone out there validated my anger and my specific fucked up power fantasy with their art. I didn’t even ask them to. I probably would’ve eventually done it on my own. But I’m so glad that someone did it for me.

If I ever hypothetically meet Nemlei, somehow, and have some cash, I will happily buy them a drink. Hopefully, by paying this excellent game’s ten dollar cover price, I already have!

I know you’re not watching this, but on the off chance this reaches your ears, I just wanna say thanks. For giving me a safe, legal, regret-free, socially acceptable, non-violent outlet for the rage I feel towards my parents.

Well.

Mostly socially acceptable.

Meow.

This game is not finished, as you may have noticed if you’ve gone to check it out on Steam. It ends on an ambiguous and open note, but in my opinion, a perfectly satisfying one. Nemlei could disappear absolutely, never release the proper ending of this game, and never make another game again, and I would not be mad. I've already got more than my money’s worth and then some. So. Yeah. I’m happy. Count me as happy!

I kinda wanna start talking a bit more about the branches of the second episode. I wanna say how it’s a brilliant idea to have two separate story arcs for the two variations of this episode’s ending, and how I hope that that’s executed on as beautifully as the rest of the game already is. I wanna talk about the ways in which Andrew and Ashley’s mom is ambiguously humanized despite being so obviously terrible. I wanna talk about the dialogue Andrew does when his parents offer him a chance to make amends, and he has doubts, if you choose to let him have them, and how I would probably also have doubts in his position, and not be able to follow through without my lovely evil cannibal sister pushing me towards… the thing. I wanna talk about this line, where Ashley talks about why she likes eating people, and how it’s so equal parts poetic and macabre and edgy bullshit and that that’s such a beautifully balanced cocktail of emotion to nail and Nemlei totally fucking nails it

I WANT TO GUSH FOREVER. ABOUT THIS GAME. AND I WANT NO ONE TO STOP ME.

Alas, I will stop myself.

And move on to the elephant in the room!

THE FUCKING.

Mom: “But that-.... That doesn’t make any sense.” Mom: “Why would you not-......” Mom: “Ah, I get it.” Andrew: “..........??” Mom: “You fuck her.” Andrew: “Wha— HUUUUH?!?!!?” Mom: “Oh that is disgusting! Andrew, she’s your sister for god’s sake!” Andrew: “I haven’t done anything!? What the hell, mom!?” Mom: “Then what does she give you that makes it worth all this?” Andrew: “W-well that’s none of your business, is it??” Mom: “I knew something was off… How did I fuck up so bad? I’m the worst mother ever..!” Andrew: “No! I mean yes you are, but I have never—!” Ashley: “I’m baaaa-ack!!!” Andrew: “Now of all times!?” Ashley: “I got the money! Did you miss me, handsome?? Did you? Did you??” Mom: “...........................” Andrew: “(I WANT TO DIE!!!!!!)”

Okay. So. I said I didn’t want to talk about this. But I’m talking about this game. I can’t not talk about it.

Yep, it’s hot takes and drama time!

So, not too long ago, Nemlei deleted their Twitter, their Itch.io, their everything, their entire online presence. The Steam page for The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, which used to list Nemlei as the developer and publisher, now lists “Kit9 Studio.” It is the only game to their name on the platform. A community forum post from said entity known as Kit9 announces that “the developer” (no name given) “has decided to permanently and completely terminate their activities online from here on.”

I don’t know exactly what happened, or why they did this. There’s a lot of people around who sure think they know. But in brief, as neutrally as possible: Nemlei, or someone close to them, was doxxed, or at least sought out as a doxxing target, by one or multiple users of an online forum. Their supposed crime? Making a video game “for degenerates.”

I don’t know who did the doxxing. I don’t know what their motive was, and for my own sanity, I am not going to look. I am choosing not to care. The most important and most obvious fact at hand here is that Nemlei’s creation has been met with controversy amongst social media users, and about one or two hack video game outrage journalists, who seem to have nothing better to do or say. And it seems clear that the doxxing wouldn’t have happened had they not been met with this negative attention. And all because of this.

Not the cannibalism, not the parricide, not the demon sacrifices. No, um, the one implied sex scene.

And it doesn’t even actually happen! It’s just a premonition of a possible future event that Ashley and Andrew supernaturally receive. It’s not particularly graphic, it doesn’t yet go anywhere, and it’s a short scene on an optional route that the game actively forewarns you about. You have to be trying to see it on purpose.

Well, that’s all true. It is indeed a minor and avoidable scene, and the discourse about it has absolutely poisoned the well when it comes to the conversation about the game. But also, “uhh, it’s optional and not a big thing,” is inadequate as a defense. This is still content in the game that Nemlei actively chose to put in the game, and even discounting this, the themes of incest are all over the game. Ashley speaks flirtatiously to Andrew at basically every turn. Even if you avoid this specific scene, the incest themes are not something you’re going to just not notice, if you’re paying attention to the text.

All that being said, it’s not like this content comes as a surprise. The Coffin of Andy and Leyley’s Steam store page accurately represents the product! A brother and sister. Codependency and cannibalism. It’s not as if you don’t know what you’re paying for and choosing to play. You came here for this! Most of the people playing this are here for this! You have to figure that if they are fine with killing and eating people, they’re probably fine with fucking each other, or, eventually possibly eventually going to be, at least.

So you’d think, except that many people seem to unironically believe that the cannibalism is more moral than the incest.

Oh, god, I’m doing this right now, aren’t I.

So, I get it. While I’m pretty skeptical of the notion that cannibalism is not as bad as incest, I do realize that incest is, at the very least, the more taboo of these things, and that a lot of people are more uncomfortable with it than they are with the cannibalism and the murder. To quote the one positive and in-depth review available in any media outlet at the time of this writing, from Destructoid:

“This aspect is undoubtedly the most controversial element about The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, and I understand why. While cannibalism is a taboo subject, it’s present in mainstream games like Fallout as an option for players. Having incestuous themes crosses over into Drakengard territory, and even then, no option allows Caim to reciprocate Furiae’s feelings for him.”

"The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is horrifying and I can’t get enough of it" Andrea Gonzalez, Destructoid, November 12 2023

So, yeah, I. y’know. Get it. I know why. However.

I can point to a lot of things that Andrew and Ashley do wrong in this game. They are, as per the game’s premise, very not okay, not as individuals, and not together. Andrew is way too attached to Ashley, and Ashley is generally an awful person who is way too attached herself, and also, all too quick on the draw to take advantage of Andrew’s attachment to her to make him do what she wants. This is not a healthy relationship. And we’re here for it! It’s compelling!

But, I think it’s worth asking why it’s such a toxic dynamic. Is it because they’re siblings? Well, not really. It’s a dynamic that’s specifically possible with them being siblings, but it’s not because of their sibling connection.

The actual reason why Andrew and Ashley’s relationship turns abusive isn’t because their relationship is abusive by necessity or nature, but because Ashley abuses their relationship. And she is doing this for basically the whole game. Like, it is abusive the whole time. It doesn’t become abusive when their relationship takes its romantic turn. Does it become more abusive? I mean. Maybe. Maybe the romance exacerbates the abuse. I dunno, we’ll have to wait and see what the next episode says.

So, then, why is the notion of them possibly in the future having sex the elephant in the room here, when before that, they do so many objectively worse things that cause much more harm both to themselves and others? Is that really so much more of a bigger deal than the murder and the people eating?

Or. To phrase it Ashley’s way. You played a game about mutilating and eating your parents’ corpses, and getting laid is what you’re freaking out about?

Is the incest really that much more extreme, or are you just more disgusted with it?

And even if you are more disgusted with it. Even if we grant that it is, actually, somehow, more harmful for siblings to have sex with each other, than to do murder and cannibalism. Is this the hill you’re dying on? What you’ve decided is of such utmost importance and injustice that you decide to go harass some random indie dev who just wants to make a silly video game about a couple of siblings eating people?

Does it truly make sense to let your kneejerk moral disgust guide you to the conclusion that the creator of this game deserves to be persecuted for merely writing about and drawing a thing you don’t like?

Well, to answer that, we have to get into the question of whether or not “immoral fiction” is harmful, or “normalizing” things that are wrong. Does fictionally depicting an immoral action actually cause harm?

I could dance around in circles for a little while about the edge cases, and certain writers who are publishing bad or hateful material in bad faith, or fascist propaganda, which is of course always bad, or whatever other example I could use to qualify my point or list out an exception to appease the people who disagree with me, but, I’ll just cut right to the chase, and tell you the answer

No!

The answer is NO!

The thing about taboos is that they don’t make us more safe. They don’t protect us from bad things. All they do is protect people’s comfort by silencing people they don’t want to understand, and enable bad actors by keeping their victims in the dark, and denying them the ability to talk about it.

The only thing we end up doing by censoring stories about these uncomfortable topics, and making it socially unacceptable to talk about them, is make it harder to know. We deny ourselves knowledge. We deny ourselves a conversation about these subjects, we deny ourselves the ability to meaningfully understand them. We deny ourselves power, what little we have, as readers, to understand, and to critique, to reason.

There’s a tumblr post I really like. Well, a number of them, I really like, on this topic, but I’m picking this one, because it’s got a quote I really like. It talks about Lolita. That Lolita. And, now, I’ve never read Lolita, at least not yet. Lolita is a novel about child sexual abuse, told from the perspective of an abuser. It’s an uncomfortable book with an uncomfortable topic, and it’s not wrong to be uncomfortable with it. The author of this post acknowledges that.

But they talk about it. They talk about how it shines a light on its subject matter. The why and the how of abusers and their actions. The ways in which their victims suffer. How it shows all of this in a way that it only could from the perspective it takes. And, I’m just going to quote them. I can’t do anything else. They said it better than I could, right now.

“Embrace disgusting fiction and then fucking talk about why it’s nasty. Now YOU have the power over reality.” - tumblr user legsdemandias

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley has been ridiculed, joked about, hot taked on, made a target, drama-ed over, and so on, but it’s hardly been criticized. No one I’ve seen admitting to not liking it talks critically about why it’s disgusting to them, or tries to understand why it exists, or what it’s for. And this is most people’s reaction to most media that deals seriously with anything taboo. “I don’t get it. I don’t like it. It shouldn’t exist. Get it away from me.”

I’m annoyed that the medium, the art form, of video games, is valued so little by so many that this is the wide reaction when something like this gets popular. That the mainstream games journalism media ridicules it, and the creator gets threatened by an internet mob, and it falls on the weirdos and the freaks and the no-name YouTube uwu girls, to give it the serious consideration and recognition it deserves.

To summarize, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is, in my opinion, a very good video game, and on its behalf, I am mad at video games.

Now, go on. You made it through this video. I told you the plot! You can probably stomach the plot! So go, go. Shoo. Go buy Nemlei a drink. If you want to.

Or, buy us, the joystick system, a drink! You can do that at patreon dot com slash joycestick, or, ko-fi dot com slash joycestick. You can buy us drinks in both of those places.

I’ve been Audrey. Thank you for listening.

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