Zuko who loves fucking who all the time(yes all the time)
stepping into darker themes if you dont like it please go to my other works
!tw: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat,somo,breeding,impreg,degrading,petnames,cnc??,etc
The first rays of dawn filter through the heavy silk curtains of your royal chambers in the Fire Nation palace, casting a warm, golden glow over the expansive bed where you and Zuko lie entwined. You're his wife, the Fire Lord's queen, and even in sleep, you look utterly ravishing—curled up on your side, your body draped in his oversized royal sleeping robes. The deep crimson fabric clings to your curves, the sash loosely tied, leaving just enough skin exposed to tease him. Zuko stirs first, as he always does, his long black hair splayed across the pillows like a dark halo. His golden eyes flutter open, and immediately, that familiar heat surges through him. He's rock hard already, his thick cock throbbing against the thin sheet that barely covers his hips. Every morning, without fail, he wakes up like this—aching for you, his dirty little secret being how much he loves taking you while you're still lost in dreams.
He shifts closer, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as he presses his body flush against yours from behind. One strong arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back into him so you can feel the rigid length of his erection grinding against your ass through the robes. You're still asleep, soft breaths escaping your lips, oblivious to the predator in your bed. Zuko's hand slides up, cupping one of your breasts over the silk, his thumb circling your nipple until it hardens into a peak. 'Fuck, my pretty slut,' he murmurs low, his voice rough with sleep and lust. 'Look at you, wearing my robes like a good little wife. Makes me want to ruin you before you even open your eyes.'
He doesn't wait for permission—somnophilia is his vice, and you're his willing victim in these stolen moments. His fingers deftly untie the sash of the robe, parting the fabric to expose your naked body beneath. No undergarments, just like he prefers. He groans softly as his hand roams lower, dipping between your thighs to find your pussy already warm and slightly damp from the night's dreams. 'Always so ready for me, aren't you? Even in your sleep, this greedy cunt knows who owns it.' He spreads your folds with two fingers, stroking your clit in slow, deliberate circles while his cock nudges insistently at your entrance. The tip leaks pre-cum, smearing against your skin as he positions himself.
Zuko thrusts in slowly at first, savoring the way your unconscious body yields to him. Your walls clench around his girth, tight and hot, pulling him deeper inch by inch until he's buried to the hilt. He bites back a moan, his long hair falling forward to brush your shoulder as he starts a lazy rhythm—pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, each stroke stretching you open. 'That's it, take your husband's cock like the filthy whore you are,' he whispers, his free hand tangling in your hair, gripping a fistful but not pulling yet. He keeps talking, his words a filthy litany meant to seep into your subconscious. 'I know you're dreaming of me filling you up, breeding this perfect pussy until you're swollen with my child. My queen, my cumdump—gonna knock you up again and again.'
Your body responds even in slumber, hips twitching back against him, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he picks up the pace. The wet sounds of his cock plunging into your slick heat fill the room, mingling with his ragged breaths. Zuko's other hand kneads your breast roughly, pinching the nipple hard enough to make you gasp in your sleep. He leans in, lips brushing your ear. 'Wake up, princess. Time to feel me fuck you properly.' But he doesn't stop—oh no, he drives deeper, his hips snapping forward with more force now, the bed creaking under the assault. Your eyes finally flutter open, hazy with confusion and building arousal, only to widen as pleasure crashes over you.
'Z-Zuko?' you murmur, voice thick with sleep, but he silences you with a sharp tug on your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. He bites down there, not gently, marking you as his while he pounds into you relentlessly. 'Shh, my dirty girl. Just lay there and let me use this tight hole. You've been teasing me all night in those robes—now pay for it.' His degrading words send a thrill through you, your pussy fluttering around his thick shaft as he talks you through every thrust. 'Feel that? That's my cock claiming what's mine. Gonna stretch you wide, make you beg for my seed. You want it, don't you? Want me to pump you full until it drips out, until your belly swells with our heir.'
He rolls you onto your stomach without pulling out, his weight pinning you down as he mounts you like an animal in heat. His long hair curtains around your face as he grabs another handful, pulling hard to arch your back. The new angle lets him hit deeper, his balls slapping against your clit with every brutal plunge. 'Fuck, you're soaking me, you needy slut. Listen to that—your pussy's weeping for my cum. Tell me how much you love waking up to your king's dick buried inside you.' You moan, pushing back against him, the somnolent haze giving way to full-blown ecstasy. Zuko's hand snakes under you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing furious circles, forcing you toward the edge. 'Come on, princess. Milk me dry. Show me what a good breeding bitch you are.'
The pressure builds unbearably, his cock dragging against that spot inside you over and over, his dirty talk pushing you higher. 'Imagine it—my seed taking root, your tits heavy with milk, body all soft and round from carrying my child. That's what you were made for, isn't it? To be fucked full every morning, every night, until you're dripping with me.' He growls, pace faltering as his own release nears. With a final, savage pull on your hair, he slams in deep, grinding against your cervix. 'Take it all, my love—every drop for that fertile womb.' Hot spurts of cum flood you, creaming your pussy as he holds himself there, pulsing inside you. The sensation tips you over, your orgasm ripping through you in waves, walls clamping down to wring him out.
Zuko collapses over you, still twitching, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder now that the frenzy has passed. But even as he softens slightly inside you, he doesn't pull away—letting his cum stay plugged deep, just how he likes it for his breeding fantasies. 'Good girl,' he murmurs, voice tender now amid the degradation. 'My perfect wife. Ready for round two once you're awake enough?' He chuckles, nuzzling your neck, already stirring with that insatiable morning hunger.
please dont come for meee
also should i continue work like this or should i maintain what i was doing
I’ve really wanted to write stuff abt cod for a long time now. But I was afraid it wouldn’t be good until I got 973627282727 posts a day telling me to just do it. So here we go!
You hated Captain John Price since the first day you saw him. But why, you ask? Simple, he was everything you were missing as a kid. You had an emotionally unstable mother and an emotionally absent father. You thought the trauma and baggage only made you stronger. Cause you did the damn thing and survived it all. You moved on and became a better person and forgot all about that stuff. So, why is it all coming back now? The way he treats you and the others makes your skin tingle.
The way you can hear him and Simon at night through the thin walls after another one of Si’s bad nightmares. The way Price knows exactly how to calm the Scot down when the weigh of religious trauma catches Johnny’s ass on a random Tuesday. The way you can visibly see Kyle relax and come back to reality when he starts to remember his fall out the chopper by Price putting a simple hand on his chest and huffing out the words, “deep breaths son.”, to ease all his worries.
Except it’s hard to truly despise this man. During late nights when everything starts to feel impossible, he’ll know. He’ll know and mosy his way right on in your room and sit next to your horizontal form. You don’t even fake sleeping since you know he can tell. Warm, rough hand on your shoulder gently rubbing back and forth till you fall asleep. You hear the words, “sleep tight, kiddo” before snuggling into a comforting slumber for the first time in a long while.
Synopsis. Matz gains a new district and a new member. The same member who trails a bunny to the den and introduces the beginning of obsession for the leaders.
Warnings. Violence. Physical harm. Und3rag3 tattooing. Teenagers(that needs it's own tw). Gang symbols. cigarett3 b3rn. Harm. And emotional harm and arguing. Please read giom masterlist before continuing.
Tuesday.
Positively, you were furious. After a not so nice call from a local man you know —your neighbor to be exact— you were mumbling up a storm. Excusing yourself through the last hour of your job just so you could catch a certain someone in the act.
With your work uniform on and a scowl on your face. Hiking up a hill through a run-down alleyway full of creeps and illegal activities. You finally caught sight of the person you'd been there to catch.
"Get off of me!" You snatched the teenager up by his arm, pinching him through his hoodie. "Jihoon, if you don't walk your skinny ass legs down this hill, I'll drag you," you stomped your heel clad foot, whisper yelling at the young man.
Jihoon was always causing problems, so threatening him like this was most likely not going to get him to listen. His face shriveled up. "You're not my mom!" He hissed back, equally furious - most likely due to the fact you had just pulled him from his group of boyfriends. Right in the middle of selling a pair of off branded shoes- and as soon as they saw you - pretended nothing was going on.
Irritation, through a false guise of shock, littered their faces as you tore and prodded the younger man away from his group of mis fit friends.
"Lee Jihoon," you whisper yelled to him this time, turning his body towards you. You take on the anger in his eyes with a frustrated scowl to clash. "Go and tell your friends you'll see them later, We're going home."
His face was turning red from embarrassment. But he knew you wouldn't back down, especially how stubborn he knows you to be. He smacked your palm off his jacket, huffing out a breath of air and turning towards the group he's with.
Within a few more seconds, he was storming past you. Hunched and full of anger as he made his way out of the entrance of the alleyway.
"Do you understand what you're doing, jihoon? It's illegal!" His footsteps rang loud on the wood of the apartment, ignoring your words- hardly bothering to take off his shoes at the entrance.
Before you could get out another frantic sentence out, he was turning his entire body your way, a snarl to his lips that resembled a dog. "What does it matter!? You're never home anyway! The cops can't pin shit on me-"
"Watch your mouth!" You yelled back, eyes widening. "I'm never home cause I am working! Don't you get that? These nice things you have- the school you go to! I have to pay for all of it somehow!" You gestured to his bedroom, posters and nick nacks littered about. "If I don't work, you can't have these things," your eyebrows furrowed. It was always so frustrating talking to him- with the exact copy of his mother's attitude.
He scoffed, "Whatever" he walked away from you, closing his door with a harsh slam.
These little outbursts would burn and simmer, like the crust on a volcano.
You stepped outside- to have a moment to yourself. Calming down from such a heightened situation- it wasn't good for you to let it bubble. But with jihoon- raising him, it was hard.
The silence of the evening gave you some peace of mind. And despite the situation of your day. You were beginning to feel relaxed, listening to the crickets and the distant sound of cars- cats- and the occasional dog barking.
"Tough day?" Changbin beckoned your attention, his large arms crossed over the balcony, you glanced to your door, having realized he heard everything.
"Yes- well, tough to my standards anyway." You laughed lightly, sighing. Changbin tilted his head at you, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "If it helps.. I know a lot of guys who went through this rebellious phase." he gestured to your apartment door, seemingly talking about jihoon. "They usually outgrow it, yknow, teenagers always act out. I know, I sure did."
You chortle at that. Palming your head as you looked out over the city, finally, you turned to meet changbins eyes, his presence having grown closer, right next to you on the railing. Comfortably, you sat with him for a second longer. "You? Rebellious?" You grinned. The fun- gentle man next to you, the one you've known for at least four years. And still have yet to properly get to know each other.
He laughed, his face scrunching. "What? Do I not seem rebellious enough?" He nudged your shoulder with his elbow, pouting. You laughed again. "No, no, I just wasn't expecting that, considering you're a -" You stopped short, remembering what jihoon had said earlier, you cleared your throat in the silence. He finished for you, glancing out to the city as well. "A cop?"
He leaned back over the railing with a sigh, nodding his head. "I heard that too. He's a bit cocky, considering he lives next to one." Changbin murmured. You shook your head, embarrassed on behalf of the teenager under your care. "I'm sorry-" "don't be. I gave my mom a hard time, too. He'll learn." The man shrugged off your apology, another drag of his cigarette, before he dabbed it out, fiddling with the end.
"But I'm not his mom. He has a reason to give me a hard time." You sighed heavily, letting the words flow before you cut them off, biting your lip. Changbin noticed, he's a keen man, a detailed man, it was a part of his job. He shook his head, twisting his body towards you.
Before he could come up with a sentence, you smiled gently. "Thanks for calling me, I hate when he does that" you groaned, remembering how upsetting it was to witness the young man attempt to brute force his way into getting another schoolmate to buy the pair of shoes they laid out.
Whatever jihoon had been doing wasn't legal. And you knew- you know. So, of course, changbin would know too - he was a cop after all, a detective to be exact, it was his job to notice these things. "Maybe a little juvie would do him some good," you sighed, a poor attempt at a joke- yet changbin still laughed heartily.
"If you need someone to scare the piss outta him, let me know, I've got a few people in mind." Changbin pocketed the end of his cigarette, bumping your elbow with his just as he left.
Wednesday. Always full of woe.
The downpour of rain filtered out the chatter of the company hongjoong was kept in. Barked laughter and forced smiles as the people around him conversed. The only person to take any interest in it was on his right. Seonghwa could make up excuses for the lack of attention his partner was providing. But the grin on the peak of hongjoongs cupids bow was driving Hwa wild with curiosity.
"What has you so happy?" The taller of the two murmured under his breath, his companion heard it - and with a clear of his throat, peaked over his glasses to the dark-haired man. "I'll tell you later"
Seonghwa sighed, bringing his glass of champagne to his lips. "Later couldn't come sooner," he replied with a sigh.
Hongjoong was in a better mood than he had been any other time of the week, with the stress that comes with a business- especially as big as this one- he could finally catch a breath of fresh air.
With one long sigh, the car door finally snapped shut, with seonghwa sitting right beside him.
"Where to?" Jongho, the leaders trusted men (and occasional driver) asked as he glanced through the rear view mirror, his brown hair framing his eyes. Hongjoongs smile perked up, seonghwa had noticed. "You know where jongho" hongjoong waved his question off with a smile, shrugging into his large fur coat.
Seonghwas attention turned back to the blonde seated next to him. "So? Where to?" Seonghwa copied jongho, questioning the shorter- yet beaming man. Hongjoong shifted in his seat, his grin faltering when his tongue poked his cheek. "You'll see." hongjoong kept the secret, seonghwa could argue– but it was typical of the younger to be so secretive sometimes.
Once the sleek black car had rolled to a stop. The evening had set, and finally, the moon was beginning to cast its beams across the streets. Seonghwa took notice of the passing buildings. Unease, unsure of the surroundings- matz hadn't stepped this far out of their comfort zone in a while unless there was a meeting. So the rural area, compared to the city, was a stark contrast to his scenery setting.
Practically bouncing out of his seat, hongjoong ushered seonghwa out of his own as soon as the fur covered man swung open his door. Of course- he was happy about something. And seonghwa was beginning to have a clue.
His eyebrow tilted up at the bubbly, shade wearing man- contrasting against seonghwa who was dressed in the best suit for the earlier occasion. He pocketed his hands, watching hongjoong with curious eyes.
In his right, hongjoong spun with the proudest grin on his face. Gesturing to the open area, a park, where seonghwa had recalled only ever passing by once- back when they were meeting with another acquaintance. Hongjoong beckoned the older man over, lacing his hands over a railing, with one other foot on the steps. He stood proudly over the peering hill, a grin still prominent on his face.
Ah. That's what it was. "You could have just told me," seonghwa mentioned with a sigh, running his hand over his hair and fixing any loose threads. Joong chuckled, "it wouldn't be special that way" he sighed, leaning on the railing- childishly, unable to sit still. Seonghwa laughed airily. "I suppose so, considering it's a wide district." Seonghwa murmured, taking his spot next to the blonde.
Hongjoong shifted his body towards the taller, still looking out over the railing at the quiet below. "It's ours now." Hongjoong whispered, almost unable to believe it himself- crime wasn't easy in this area, the cops were strict, which ended up with tight attitudes and unwilling participants.
But finally, hongjoong found a willing distributor, and he seemed permanent for the time being- until he could be replaced.
"I've got a few of them out here already, watching." Hongjoong gestures to four distinct areas, seonghwa perched his arms on the rail. Glittery lights catching every which way. He turned his attention back to the ecstatic man. "And who's watching them?" He hummed.
There was hardly any trust for the underlings, not to say they weren't loyal to the cause, just that they were easily swayed and amateurs, so of course, seonghwa had to ask.
"Mingi"
Seonghwa took in a hiss of breath, the most loyal of all- a little clumsy though. Hongjoong could sense seonghwas thought. "This one is his. He practically begged for it." Joong sniffled a laugh, recalling the plead of the other member. "He said he could take care of it."
There was a silence for a moment before seonghwa spoke up.
"Do you trust him?" He asked. Hongjoong tilted his head, sliding his glasses to lay on the top of his head. He turned his face towards seonghwa for the first time during their conversation, and nodded.
"I trust you, don't I?" Hongjoong answered.
Thursday.
The following day was just as bad as you thought. Things may seem easier the next morning. But jihoon had still ignored you, even as you prepared him a breakfast along with his fresh uniform. A scowl on his pouty- still childish face. It made you want to turn in and wave the white flag.
So, when you sit at the empty kitchen table, staring at the packaged food –that had been coldly left behind– and reminiscing on how you could hardly get the same treatment from your parents growing up, do you begin to feel the ache of missing your best friend.
You couldn't dwell on it. Not when you had work.
Jihoon is as difficult as his mother. Purgatory thoughts playing in your mind over and over. Although your best friend Lia wasn't shy from being mean - borderline - a bully, she was still loyal and caring, and she loved jihoon. She would have had the best lines to say and tell; to convince him to get his act straight. But she wasn't here. And as his godmother, you had the responsibility to play mommy.
You really wished she was here. She'd know how to take care of these things. You've always been the softer one in the duo.
It's past 12, and you have an early shift tomorrow. You sit at the kitchen table, dazed and daydreaming as you wait. When you think over what could be happening, bile rises in your stomach. Jihoon hasn't returned home, and his phone is apparently off. He has been gone for hours. More so than usual.
What can you even do?
The front door is quietly unlocked in the silence.
You spring from the kitchen chair, watching the door be pushed in, followed by a hooded figure who doesn't bother to flicker on any of the lights.
Your hands are spinning him around the next second, although jihoon is taller than you- the veracity of your movement tugs him to face you.
You pull the hood down next, glaring his bruised face in-between broken orbs and clenched teeth, looking at the fresh cuts along his lip and nose. "Where have you been?" You say, as calmly as you can muster. Jihoons shoulders fall. "Out," he mustered, shrugging his shoulder past you to pull off his jacket.
You pull him back by his upper arm before he can go any farther. He winces but makes no move to push you off. His head is tilted towards the floor, and his breathing is labored - tired from whatever activity he had just gotten up to.
"Jihoon, your mom wouldn't want this -" his hand snakes out of your grasp as if you burnt him. "What did you just say?" He scoffs, clicking his tongue. You don't falter. "Yo-" "No, no, you don't get to do that. You don't get to use that against me cause I don't even know what she was like." You go to cut him off. "You know that's not true-"
His foot meets the stool as he kicks it frustrated, a silent curse coming from his mouth.
"I don't know if anything you say is true, I don't even know if you're really someone she'd leave me with to take care of. It's all just bullshit anyway, right?" His snarky tone wavers, his throat pinching close the longer he stays on this subject.
"I'm going to bed" he brushes you off once more when you attempt to reach out.
And you have the same lump in your throat. You don't know what to say yourself. You don't know how to fix this. You don't know what you're doing.
Friday.
Halfway through your shift, do you get another dreadful call- voice-mail this time, since you can't answer your phone during school hours. On the other end is changbin- but this time, he's just dropping information off for you.
"Hey y/n, I'm sorry to be telling you this, but -" he takes a heavy sigh, "one of my colleagues told me about seeing a kid similar to jihoon.. coming from this new operation we're in the middle of. It's a big nightclub - full of colors - hell, you can see it from a mile away, so just ask around. It just got up and running, we - don't tell anyone I said this - but we're looking at charges if he happens to be caught in there. It's not safe for him. that's all. Call me when you get this- we can go together. Do not go on your own. I'll talk to you later."
The end of Friday is full of dread. The streets are full of characters for the night. Fools and drunks and corner girls and the occasional normal group of friends, no matter who it is- you ask.
"The club full of bright lights?"
A man finally repeats your question. He's not entirely sober, nor is he blackout either. He points over his shoulder, giving lazy directions. But as you go, you thank him. Changbin was right. You couldn't miss it from a mile now that you were in a neighboring alleyway- heaving from having run everywhere to find this place.
The front is guarded with men in jackets, smoking cigarettes, and scaring the stragglers who stare a little longer than they should.
You power through, attempting to blend in with a crowd of rowdy girls who are easily let in- You're stopped by the collar of your shirt, pulled out of it and faced to face with a scarred man, eyeing you up and down.
"Are you trying to sneak in? Hey, why didn't you just ask to be let in? What kind of shit are ya trying to pull?" His heavy palm smacks your cheek, pat pat, your skin reverbs from the tiny hits- its a slap to your pride in a way. You scowl at the stranger.
"Theres someone in there I need to get" you defend yourself, pushing the man off your collar. His snarky grin drops into a scowl, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his lip dangerously. "I'm not buying that princess." The man flicks the ash your way, glancing to the other man on the door.
Your appearance is a contrast to everyone else. Your in your best dress for parent-teacher day, having cut it short to find jihoon. You stick out like a sore thumb. Fuck. You're really not getting past this guy.
You had to do something.
"He's underage! He's a kid, a kid shouldnt be in there- If I can't go in and get him- I'm gonna call the cops!" You're making a scene now- you're panicking, you have no idea if jihoon is okay, no idea whether or not he's doing drugs or getting himself hurt.
You're scared for him. But the glance in both of the men's eyes is your top worry. Threats about the cops coming around seems to gather attention, onlookers glancing your way and beginning to crowd the front door. "Cops?" The first man laughs, snatching your arm up with an icy grip that has you hissing in pain. "Are you threatening us? Ma'am, that's not proper. We're running a business here." His tone is attempting to be lighthearted, but the danger behind his grip and smile is driving the breath out of your lungs.
You're dragged inside by the same guy, the lights, the music- everything screams danger with this situation, not only that but the faces- the troubled people around here is nothing safe. You catch glimpses of people snorting different color substances off each table, tiny shiny and distinct pills littered around. Smoke and the burning smell of cigarettes- and something else, something heavy and damp, funky smelling. Earthy. You body makes contact with the door to a room and you're pushed into it abruptly.
Your feet stumble forward towards the middle of the room, where you finally find your balance. Cards are placed on a wide and round glass table and this place smells the worse of the earthy smoke, it clings to every surface, making you cough. When you do, the man in the center of the red velvet couch in front of you peaks up over his glasses.
His hair is white- silver almost, long enough to tuck behind his ears. He gestures with a ringed finger to the man with you to speak.
"She's threatening to talk to the cops."
"She a regular?"
"No, never seen her around here before"
The silver haired man takes a heavy sigh,, he parts from the woman and men around him to meet you face to face. He's tall- intimidating. His height is no joke. He scans you up and down with dark eyes. Emotions you can't grasp on his features.
Whoever the people are, they aren't bothering to look your way, quiet and head down. Sheep's amongst a wolf. He's obviously in charge here. "Look- I don't know who you are but you have kids in here- this isn't a place they should be-"
The flicker of a lighter sounds through the quiet room. The sound of music muffled behind the door gaurded by the man and another. You watch the silver haired stranger take a drag of a cigarette after flipping his lighter closed, the red pulse of light igniting in front of you, it silences you quickly.
"Listen." He starts with a hum, nodding his head as the smoke hits your face, he takes your hand in his, gently patting his large, calloused fingers over yours. You hesitate to let him have it, unsure of his motive. "I understand your concern, but we don't have kids here sweetheart, we don't allow that. Youth is important to our future, right? Isn't that what everyone thinks?" He glances around shortly, switching out the hand holding the cigarette to cage your palm in-between. You can feel the heat of it, see the ash starting to form at the top.
"That's not true." You whisper. His eyes squint. "You calling me a liar?" He murmurs, stepping closer.
"I'm calling bullshit" you hold your head high.
It's silent. Air so tense and thick, you can't tell if it's the smoke or the feeling lingering in your chest. But this man, he's not safe. None of this is. And you're really testing your luck here. "I need-" you start again. But the sudden burn of specks on the back of your hand makes you whimper in pain, attempting to draw back your limb from the man.
He holds it tightly in his, flicking ash onto the back of it, the sting makes you hiss, before he brings the cigarette back to his full lips, your fingers pale from the force.
He takes a drag, blowing it in your face once again.
"I don't like being called a liar." He pouts into his words, dusting the ash across your skin with his thumb, a warning at most. But it stings slightly when he flips your palm over to examine the lines.
"You come in here and threaten my place, I've only been nice to you this entire time." He holds his free hand over his heart. "What do you want exactly, sweetheart?" He squints down at you. The nickname makes your stomach lurch uncomfortably.
"I told the guy at the front. There's someone in here i need-" "and who is that someone?" You go quiet, squinting up your nose at him. He stares back for the next seconds. One.. two.. three-
There's the stinging burn to your palm, it aches and you screech in pain. Attempting to bring your hand back from the heat. A cigarette that is searing into the soft skin in the middle of your palm. You wail at it, a pain so uncomfortable you forgot it even felt real. The ash darkens when he puts it out. Smearing it across your palm. His eyes are unlike what you've seen, no remorse or mercy, just evil.
"I'm not going to ask again. Giving me attitude when I've been sweet-" "i-im not please-" you beg, anything to stop the pain and sting on your palm, to get the man before you to stop before he does something else, something worse. "Shh, quiet, I'm talking." he pats his palm over the open wound. You whimper once more, tears welling in your eyes. It hurts.
Before his lips fall open again. The door behind you swings open.
It's the other man from the front door. Followed by.. a few individuals, you can hardly see with the blur in your eyes.
"Raeun?" The second man to walk through questions. He's taller- his body adorned in what seems to be the closest thing to a suit. A pair of glasses and short- almost buzzcut black and blonde hair. Raeun- the man who grips your palm looses his grip, and you pull it as quickly as you can to your chest.
"Mingi" he huffs. "Come to join so soon?" He laughs, glancing to you. The man, from towards the entrance does the same. "Yeah, Came as soon as I got the go ahead" mingi replies plainly, walking further into the room. "Leave" he gestures to the people across the couch.
An array of limbs and people pass you, but- when you turn to leave, you're stopped by him. "You, stay." Mingi swings his finger out to call you over to him. Gesturing to the couch.
You really don't know what's going on. But mingi is gentle as he grabs your palm, glancing for approval- you don't respond.
"Seonghwa said no more burns, whats this then?" Mingi tilts the wound towards raeun. The same man scoffs. "She said she was gonna call the cops." "And you think this was gonna stop her?" Mingi groans, letting your hand go. You cradle it back to your chest, watching the tall man step up to raeun.
"Get your shit and go, you're out" mingi turns on his heel, stepping back out of the silver man's way to let him leave. Raeun scoffs loudly, "you can't kick me out of here, I made this place what it is-"
"Yeah and where did that lead you?" Mingi waves his hand out to the club. Raeuns face drops even further into anger. "Fuck- is this about her? We can just pay the bitch off-"
"Raeun" mingi hisses his name. The tension could be cut with a knife and you try everything to make yourself smaller in it. "Get. Out." Mingi points to the door.
Raeuns fit seems to cease, a smile creeping up his skinny features. "Oh, you got the position didn't you? The captain finally gave you something huh?" Raeun laughs loudly, holding his stomach that pokes out of a silky cheetah print shirt.
"Which means you're out." Mingi confirms. "Go." He says once more, it's a threat, the tone speaks for itself. Raeun doesn't bother once more, kicking the door open on his way out.
Your heart drops when the door slams shut behind him. Your labored breath calming to accommodate the quiet in the room. Mingi heaves a heavy sigh, taking a seat on the far side of the couch. His hand rakes through his messy hair, parting the spikes to docile them down. With a single hand in his hair and another reaching out for a glass- presumably full of whiskey, mingi finally glances your way.
You're a shaking aching mess, it doesn't take a genius to notice you're not for this lifestyle. You're dressed like a librarian in the midst of a nightclub for fuck's sake. Your palm is clutched tightly, as if you're attempting to squeeze the pain away. Your eyebrows are knitted and you're curled into yourself. Lost in thought.
"What are you doing here?" Mingi breaks the silence. You jump, turning your head his way.
"I'm looking for someone." You quietly answer. Mingi nods, lifting the whiskey to his lips. "Who?" He asks before he takes a gulp of the alcohol. "A boy, his- he goes by jihoon, he's five-eight- probably taller now- i - we haven't checked in a bit, he's got messy an-and curly black hair- it, well.. he hasn't let me trim it in a while and-" your rambles encourages a bubble in your throat, a sob beginning to form.
You could have gotten hurt worse, you still can, you could die here, you could be trafficked, mingi seems capable of it if he was able to test someone like raeun. And now the only thoughts in your mind are how you wish jihoon hadn't been mad, how you wish he could know you love him- in case you do happen to die, or end up missing. How the last thing you did with him was argue.
Your throat closes in when an image of the younger version of the boy shows up in your minds eye. The sob breaks out "he's just a kid, he's all i got- I'm all he's got, I don't want him here, please" you beg, for his sake, more than yours- mingi is so quiet, his aura is scary, he's not like anyone you've ever met before.
"Hey," he calls softly, your face twisting to see his. His eyes have caved, soft and understanding, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm going to go get your boy, and you're not coming back. You hear me?"
Mingi makes his statement clear just as he gets up to leave.
The breath lodged in your throat exits as you nod. The dull ache of your hand plays at the back of your mind - finally, you'll be able to see jihoon, and you'll both leave.
You'll leave. Together.
There's no windows in this room. There is no light besides the TV in the corner. It flickers with a show you don't know, a familiar actor beating down on multiple men. Your eyes are blurry - and you wonder if you happen to have a first aid kit at home, possibly - if you haven't used all of the content on jihoon from his many fights and bruises. It feels like an eternity while you wait, hoping for light in the darkness.
You hope jihoons okay.
Your hope is answered when the door once again swings open. Mingi is holding jihoon by the scruff of his neck, pushing him into the room, but he sidesteps out of the way to let someone else in.
The cast of the club lights create a halo around the man, the beads of the entrance jingle when he steps inside, like crystals, the light bounces off every inch of the glass beads, illuminating the man in the fur coat from behind.
His hair is a vibrant blue, His nose has a define point, his lips are naturally plump- He's pretty. Which is a surprise. And you thought Raeun was the boss. No.. it's this man. With his cream colored fur coat and his tight leather jeans, a buckle with a silver star to top it off and a sheer black and white top. His shoes are leather, reptilian in design. A pair of dark glasses slotted against his forehead when he pushed them up. Your eyes meet.
It's dangerous. He's dangerous. Everything screaming. This is the type of man you'd see on TV, draped in luxurious brands and with a snarky attitude to come with it, a past- and scars along his figure, fuck- this guy is no good. He's a snake in man's skin. A wolf in sheep's clothing. And you can tell.
"Mingi" his eyes never stray from yours, as if stalking prey, his voice is light and inviting. Mingi glances his way, then yours with a silent response to the man "captain." He pushes jihoon forward and drags the hilt of his shirt up. You stand- to protest, to tell them don't touch him.
But the ink along jihoons skin is a sign of surprise. Of fear to your racing heart.
"Your boy here," the captain pats the young boy on his shoulder, jihoon grimaces, head down turned. "Has our symbol, he has the mark of ateez, and that means he won't be leaving anytime soon."
The lines of an 'A' are sharp, a circle to encase it, it spans almost the entirety of jihoons left pec. It's fresh ink. your stomach churns and twists. You think you're going to be sick.
"Jihoon is one of ours now." He finishes, clicking his tongue.
"Jihoon?" You quietly call. For him to say it's a joke, a sick one- but his face remains the same. Furrowed and ashamed.
Tears well up in your eyes once again. You've failed - failed as a guardian and failed your best friend. You failed the little boy you were given, and you've failed his father and future.
"Please. Please- okay- he's a child- he's only fourteen!" You plead with the man, slipping to your knees, desperate as you are- you're willing to do anything to prevent jihoon from throwing away his future.
The captains' fingers hold a coin- something you haven't seen before then. The men peer back at you in the dark of the room. "I-" "the ink is already there." He nudges jihoons left side, the boy groans in pain, most definitely sore.
"There's no changing that," he nods towards you, flicking the younger boy's cheek. His eyes are demeaning when he stares down at your figure. This all seems like a joke to him. With one final glance to your shaking body, the vibrant haired man turns away towards the door.
"Please. I'll do anything." You beg.
His steps falter. The coin makes contact with the metal of his rings as he plays with it. It dings every so often, like a clock in the silence over and over.
Clink, clink, clink, clink- ...
"Don't make promises you can't keep." You can hear the perk to the man's voice, a smile through his tone. "I can keep it." You confirm without another beat, gulping back your tongue.
JJ out of everyone having suicidal tendencies kills me. Because oh my god all I can think about is that she finally has a personal insight (somewhat) on how Roz felt, but she is more passive suicidal than active, because she knows what losing someone to suicide does to those around them, so if she died in the field it’s different in her mind than if she went and actively did something.
TW!: Dr0wning, St@bbing, W3apons, Spooky Man, Long Text, Mentions of Abvse, Hallucinations, and Neglect
The Main Three
Killer (Chara)/Sans:
Role: Frontline Fighter, Manipulator, The Tormented
HP: 9/9
Killer/Chara's Attacks: RedKnife Summon (up to three at a time; cooldown is 60s), Knife Throw (must go get it; aim is 90% accurate), Knife Malay (most used), and Gasterblasters (aim is 80% accurate)
Sans' Attacks: RedBone Summon (mostly used for smacking the shit out of someone; cooldown is 10s), BoneBlock (mainly used to slow down opponents, rather than stop them, so he can get away; bones are fragile), Chara's Knife Throw (least used; aim is 20% accurate), and Gasterblasters (most used; cooldown is 10s/aim is 70% accurate because of disorientation)
Name Preference
Killer/Chara: They don't give a fuck about what anyone calls them; Killer, Chara, Motherfucker? It's whatever to them, as long as they can experience something new. See what I did there? Haha! Heh.. Yeah, I'll see myself out-
Sans: Please just call them Sans. They don't want to kill anyone. They didn't want this in the first place. They don't want to be just 'a Killer'. So Sans is preferable.
Extra
Favorite Color is Green 🍏
His two sides of his personality/soul are more defined. Neither of them are trusting of others and will betray the Star Sanses (post "redemption"). Killer/Chara is very loud, obnoxious, and greedy. Sans is more quiet, tired, and isolative. Killer/Chara likes to bully Dust by purposely creating messes and abusing the fact Dust physically can't stop him or say anything to Nightmare. They get punished for this but Killer/Chara, personally, doesn't care as long as they get to see Dust suffer while watching.
Dust/Phantom (Paps):
Role: Clean-up Crew, Negotiator, The Blamed
HP: 9999/9999
Dust's Attacks: Bone Summon (cooldown is 5s), BoneBlock (meant to stop opponents; HP: 10/10), and Gasterblasters (trigger happy)
Dust: Dust or Murder is ok. Preferably, do not call him Sans. He doesn't feel like Sans anymore/he doesn't feel like he deserves to be called that after what he did.
Phantom: Phantom, Paps, Phantom Paps. It depends on who it is that is referring to him. He is not really there, unless you believe in the power of manifestation, so Dust is the only one who actually has the opinion on this one.
Extra
Favorite Color is Blue 🔵
Dust talks to Phantom regularly, despite knowing that he is not real. He has a bad habit of playing into his hallucinations, making them worse. He very proudly introduces The Great Papyrus as his cool younger brother to literally anyone who 'hasn't heard' whether they asked or not. Dust doesn't usually wear his hood around people he trusts (to not snitch about his lazy eye), in the castle, and refuses to take it off in public (he's insecure). He physically feels obligated to clean up after others (mostly from years of abuse from Nightmare).
Horror
Role: Defensive Fighter, Interrogator, The Neglected
HP: 99/99
Horror's Attacks: Stomp (anyone within 20ft gain disorientation for 40s; lose 20% aim accuracy/friendly fire), AxeSwing (-3 HP), Finishing Blow (-6 HP; cooldown is 60s), and Shield (cover ally of choice for 20s; cooldown is 20s)
Extra
Favorite Color is Purple 🟣
Horror spends most of his time alone in Nightmare's castle. He doesn't get as much attention as the other two, whether it be positive or negative attention. He's a bit more aggressive than you might think and isn't very close to anyone but himself. Due to his severe lack of social interaction, he may behave erratically when with the other two before being calmed down. Horror's needs often get dubbed as unimportant by Nightmare; such as hunger and social interaction.
So, yeah! That's all the information that I have, that's relevant to the drawings! I hope you guys enjoy my No Dadmare AU (I refuse to do Dadmare)! There will be more dw and it will p include my boy, Root, as well!
Hope that's not too cringe for ya! And I'll catch y'all later! Bye!
