#anyways bye

It starts in the softest way, Yunho letting you sleep in, then waking you with gentle kisses and warm hands under the duvet.

He’s been restless lately, something itching under the surface, and without a word you slip the familiar necklace around your throat. The circular ring and pearl drop charm is cool against your skin, but the meaning is laden with heat: yes.

The necklace is more than that, it’s a sign of something even deeper. Not just yes, but please. It’s not passive, even though the simple chain may seem so as it hangs around your neck, it’s a silent plea. 

He starts off attentively in that slow, deliberate way that always makes you ache — a boyfriend first, a dom second, but somehow always both at once.

“Water, baby.” He says it without looking, tapping the side of your bottle while he scrolls through the café menu on his phone. “Don’t make me ask again.”

You sip, legs pressed tightly together under the table, and your thighs clench when he mouths a simple “good girl” over the rim of his coffee cup.

He feeds you bites of cake with his fingers. Wipes your lips with his thumb and doesn’t pull it away when you flick your tongue over the pad of it, just to see how he’ll react.

“You’re pushing it,” he warns, but he just smiles and presses your knee under the table until you go still.

In the bookstore, you keep glancing at him, flushed and needy 

He keeps your water topped up. Presses a hand to your back every time you fidget.

You feel the first true throb of your bladder while you’re browsing the skin care aisle of the next store, but you keep quiet. 

Every time you shift your weight or bite your lip or make a little sound under your breath, you catch him watching you - eyes dark, hand curled possessively around yours.

And god, you want him. Want his hands and his mouth all over you. Want to be held and teased and ruined in that way only he knows how.

The ache in your lower belly has bloomed into something unbearable and hot. The pressure, the fullness - it’s not just about your body anymore.

You’re desperate, yes, but it’s desperation for him, for relief, to be good, all of it swirling in your gut.

When his lips brush your ear on the train ride home, it takes everything in you not to whimper. His words set your mind alight - “So full, aren’t you, sweetheart? You’ve been drinking everything I give you. Haven’t asked once. Such a good girl. Can’t wait to see how much you can hold.”

You’re wet. Embarrassingly wet. You press your legs together and nod, eyes fluttering. You want this. You want it all.

And when you’re home - 

You slip out of your shoes the second you’re through the door and make a quiet beeline toward the bathroom, heartbeat in your throat — but he’s already there, catching your wrist with a slow smile.

“Ah, ah,” Yunho says softly, tilting his head. “Where are you going, little one?”

“I, I just,” you start, but the words die on your tongue. You know the rules. You’re wearing the necklace. 

Yunho steps closer, eyes trailing down the curve of your neck to the necklace, brushing his knuckles over the pearl, giving it a soft tug, a little reminder of what it means as chain contracts briefly around your throat.

“You said you were mine today,” he says, a little firmer now. “Did you forget?”

Your cheeks burn. “No, Daddy.”

“No?” he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. “Then come here.”

In the bedroom everything shifts.

Gone is the bright daylight softness — now it’s all low light and warm hands and the sweet edge of tension slicing through your chest.

He draws the curtains and lays you down gently, tucking the blanket over your legs like he’s not about to ruin you.

“Rest time,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “You did so good for me today. Let me take care of you now.”

You nod, voice barely there. The pressure in your belly has tipped into dangerous territory — but you trust him. You always trust him.

He gives you choices, but they’re all the same, all just different paths in a choose your own adventure that lead you to the same destination. 

He knows it, and so do you. 

So when he asks if you want to watch a movie or if you want him to read to you, you shrug, tucking yourself into his chest. 

You pick movie. 

“Good choice,” he says, turning on something you’ve both seen before. It’s comforting, background noise at best. The focus here isn’t the screen. It’s you.

You last maybe fifteen minutes before you start fidgeting, just a restless shift of your hips as you try to get comfortable, to take the pressure off. 

He notices immediately, he always does. 

“Pretty girl,” He murmurs quietly, his hand sliding beneath the blanket to rest over your stomach, “you keep squirming,” 

“Sorry,” You breathe. 

He kisses your hair softly, “It’s alright, you just seem wound up today,” 

He says everything like he has no idea what the reason could be, as if he didn’t feed you bottle of bottle after water for the past few hours with the exact intention of putting you right here. 

“Y-Yunho,” You squeeze your eyes shut tight as you feel the insistent tug to use the restroom. 

He clears his throat gently. 

“Daddy,” You correct yourself, embarrassed heat in your cheeks, “I really, I need to go,” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and then his palm smooths a gentle path over your belly, “I know,” 

“Please,” You manage it. 

“You’ve been holding it all day,” He kisses your hair, “you’re doing so well,” 

You let out a tight breath, and his hand shifts, slow circles against your belly. His touch is light but unrelenting, and then he squeezes, just a little, to remind you of the pressure. 

You whimper, fingers curling into the sheets. 

“So full,” He praises, his voice warm, velvety soft, “I can feel how tight you are. Does it hurt?” 

“Yes,” You nod, your breath shaky, “hurts,” 

Yunho presses a kiss to your shoulder, nuzzling you here as he exhales, “Color?” 

“S-still green,” You assure him. 

Your body is screaming at you to get up, to relieve yourself and then come back to bed, but every press of his hand, every touch of his lips, the way he’s pleased with you. It keeps you right here. 

“Please,” You whimper, not sure what you’re begging for. 

A soft groan escapes him, his hand smoothing up and down once before but it travels up to cup your breast through your shirt, finding your nipples hard and straining against the fabric, “Oh,” he nods, “that’s my girl. So needy and obedient.” 

“Ah,” You twitch as his thumb flicks over the hardened bud. 

His hand trails down again, skimming over your stomach softly before pushing between your thighs, fingers searching, finding the soaked fabric of your underwear that reveals more about your own desires than you’ve ever said out loud. 

“Sweetheart,” He groans, cupping the heat of your cunt fully with his hand, palm pressed against your clit, “you’re so wet, so messy. You really do like this, don’t you?” 

He knows you do. You’ve done this enough times for him to know exactly what parts of this kink you like, what parts you love, and what parts make your body sing. 

But he loves to hear you say it. 

“Yes,” Your voice is thready, breathless, and your hips rock on their own to chase some kind of sensation, “god, yes,” 

“Eyes on the screen, babygirl,” Yunho shifts you in his arms so that you’re pressed flush against him, back to chest, one hand between your thighs while the other wraps around you and holds you in place. 

You gasp at the sensation, the pang in your gut as he shifts you. 

“Daddy’s going to let you come a little,” He promises, “just be good, baby,” 

“Yes,” You nod, going slack in his arms. 

His touch is precise, teasing and controlled, soft enough to torment you but just firm enough that you think you can get there. 

His fingers circle steady on your clit, just a steady rhythm of pleasure that he knows will take you to the edge. 

You can’t stop moaning, writhing in his arms and gripping down on his forearm, dizzy with it all - the ache in your belly, the pressure, the heat building under his hands. 

“Good girl,” He murmurs, trailing wet kisses along your neck, “so good, babygirl,” 

“Please,” You shiver, hips bucking into his fingers, “please,” 

“Let go, sweetheart,” He croons, “come on Daddy’s fingers, baby, I know you can do it,” 

Your nails dig into his arm, pleasure blooming hot and fast. 

“There you go,” He nods, “there’s my girl,” 

Your orgasm washes over you with a cry, your body shuddering and trembling in his hands. 

“Hold it,” He instructs, hands soft on your hips, “hold it, baby,” 

Your body wants to get rid of this pressure, the ache in your cunt unbearable, but you nod into the sheets, whimpers on your lips. 

You’re spent, and you think for a moment this will end with just another orgasm, this time a full release just like he wants, but it doesn’t. 

Yunho lifts the blanket away and reaches for your water, “Come on, babygirl, we’re not done.” 

“Daddy,” Your mind feels like it’s going soft, into that sunken delicious place you don’t always get to. 

Yunho passes you the glass and strips the bed around you, leaving you bare in the center of the special sheets he bought just for this. 

With quick fingers he peels your panties away. 

“Daddy, I can’t,” 

“You can,” He nods, tossing the damp garments aside, “and you will. Drink, babygirl.”

With shaking fingers you raise the glass, and he watches you with sharp eyes as you take a sip. Your stomach seizes, too full really to take more, but you drink anyways. 

“Good girl,” He nods, “Finish up, almost done,” 

Tears gather in your eyes, but you tip the glass back, taking faster gulps to try and get it over with. Water spills out from the sides, snaking down your chin, your chest, but you finish with a gasp. 

“Very good,” He discards the glass, and then reaches for your face, thumb brushing away the stray droplets, “you’re doing so well today, baby, I’m so proud of you.” 

You melt, mind sinking more. 

Yunho slides between your open legs and directs you to settle onto your back, before sliding a stiff pillow under your hips so that you're open and on display for him, your bloated belly round and distended in a pretty curve. 

He groans, two warm palms sliding down over the taut skin, “You’re so full baby,” he murmurs, almost reverently, “look at you,” 

You shiver. 

He presses his palms down with gentle pressure, and you gasp, back arching, as the fullness throbs under his touch. 

“Sweetheart,” He pushes your shirt up higher until it properly pools under your breasts, “color, please,” 

You blink at him, eyes watery, but you nod, “Green,” 

His eyes darken with heat, but you see the tug of a smile on his lips, and that’s all you need. He’s proud of you, he’s pleased with you, and you whimper. 

He settles between your legs like he owns the space, like he owns you. 

“Fuck, sweet girl,” He breathes, hands skating over your skin, so swollen, and so sensitive, and all of this for me,” 

You whine, nodding, staring up at him as his eyes rake over your body. 

With precise touch, he cups your belly again, pressing into the tight distended curve with one hand, pressure building as he pushes. 

“You held it in all day, didn’t you?” 

“Y-yes,” Your voice cracks with a whimper, painful pressure lighting up your abdomen, “yes, sir,” 

“Good girl,” He praises, “aren’t you?” 

“I’m trying,” You pant, his hands pushing a little more. 

“I know,” He soothes, pressure lifting as he moves his hands, “I know you are, baby.” 

“I want to be good for you,” You breathe. 

“Such a perfect, obedient little slut,” He smiles, fingertips dragging over your thighs. 

You moan at the word, your hips twitching up, slick wetness pooling under you as your pussy aches, pulses, the wet spot on the pillow growing as you shift and whine. 

“You love this,” He says, his voice full of awe, “don’t you? All desperate, full and fucked-out and needy,” 

“Yes, yes, Daddy,” Your cunt clenches around nothing. 

“You want to let go?” He murmurs softly. 

Your eyes flutter shut, “More than anything.” 

Yunho presses one palm flat against your slick cunt, the pressure here sudden and firm, while his other hand traces a slow possessive line over your stomach.

You jerk, moaning and gripping the sheet. 

“It’s going to be messy, baby,” He circles his hand, bringing a sudden flash of pleasure, “you know that, right?” 

“Yes,” You pant, “I don’t care, I just, I need,” 

“Not yet,” He stops you in your babbling tracks, “I want to feel you come again, I want your pretty pussy clenching around my fingers while you try to hold it in. Show me how good you can be, baby. Show me how special you are,” 

He doesn’t give you a second to respond, to even digest his words, all at once his fingers push inside you - slow, deep, curled just right, and your whole body jolts in response. 

“God, oh god,” Your eyes roll. 

“So tight,” He groans, “so full it’s making your pussy throb, isn’t it?” 

You moan, incoherent. 

“Tell me,” He instructs, thumb sliding over your clit, “say it.” 

“Y-yes,” You nod, eyes glassy with tears, “I’m so full, so wet, t-throbbing for you, it’s all for you,” 

“Messy girl,” He sighs, pleased, and then his fingers start to pulse. 

You gasp, arching in the bed, scrambling. 

Yunho isn’t wasting a second, his fingers are curled perfectly to hook against your g-spot, and that combined with the unbearable ache starts to melt. 

“I can’t,” You cry out, tears real this time, “I can’t, I’m go-gonna,” 

“You can,” His hand presses down over your belly, fingers never slowing, “you are doing so well,” 

“Daddy!” Your nails dig into your palms

“You’re going to give me that perfect fucking orgasm,” He pants, “and then you’ll beg me to let you go right here, to piss right here like the filthy girl you are. Aren’t you?” 

Pleasure rockets through your brain, “Oh, please, D-Daddy,” 

“Aren’t you?” He groans, “Say it,” 

You cry out, your orgasm coming fast, “I’m f-filthy,” you whine, “I’m s-so fucking filthy for you Daddy,” 

“Come,” The command comes fast, “come, baby, now, now.” 

You come hard, back arching, cunt clenching on his fingers as you body cracks open, pressure and pain and pleasure all mixing together in your body in ways you couldn’t explain if you tried. 

“Good girl, fuck,” He stammers as he looses a little of his own composure, but then his hands press down over your belly fast and firm, “let go, come on, sweetheart, let go,” 

You cry out, unable to stop yourself this time even if he wanted you to at the way he’s touching you. 

This release hits different, hitting hard on top of your still rolling orgasm, hot and fast, and your cheeks heat as you let go, warmth pooling under you as you sob. 

“Fuck,” Yunho breathes, eyes locked on your body, “that’s it baby, that’s my girl, let it go, let it all out,” 

You can’t stop, all you can do is shake through it. 

But Yunho doesn’t move away, doesn’t flinch. He holds you through it, his hands shifting from your belly to your hips, his body next to yours now, lips against your forehead. 

One of his hands slides lower to cup your sex, and the other presses once again on your belly, gentler this time, guiding every pulse and contraction as your body empties, the feeling wet and messy, but freeing. 

“So good,” He soothes, “so good, babygirl, there you go. Such a beautiful fucking mess for me,” 

“Can’t stop,” You sob once more, overwhelmed. 

“You don’t have to,” He soothes, all traces of meanness gone in his tone, “you’re safe right here, I’ve got you baby, let it out,” 

You sink into his touch, and when it’s done, you collapse into his side, limp and wrecked. 

Softly, Yunho kisses the crown of your head, and gathers you in his arms.

He’s proud of you, that he lets you know that first. His words are soft, tender on your temple as he soothes you. 

The bed is warm and messy under you, but he wipes you down with reverence and lifts you with ease, moving straight into the shower while you’re still coming down. 

He settles you onto the little seat in the shower that you use for moments exactly like this, and gets the warm water flowing. 

Kissing you soft - “You were so beautiful, every second,”

While the water warms he massages your arms, your hands, brings you out of your stupor slowly with gentle questions, grounding words. 

Finally, you surface, responding to his questions with longer and longer phrases, breathing into the warmth of the steam as he washes your hair. 

“Where’s your head now, love? Feeling alright?” He asks gently, quietly. 

And you tell him the truth. That you feel loved, safe, held by him, the only person who’s ever seen you truly at your most vulnerable and most open. The only man who’s ever made you feel safe enough to try. 

After the shower he wraps you in a fluffy robe, setting you onto a comfortable chair in the corner of your bedroom with a book, and methodically he cleans. 

He strips the bed, the top layer mattress protector, your clothes and his. 

He takes care of it all like he always does, finishing with fresh bedding, a lit candle, and a warm cup of tea for you to sink into. 

You let him dress you, hold you. 

So. Hi guys. Gulps. Here’s another comic strip esc drawing cause I loved doing the Radiohead one with Varian <3<3!! Idk how I feel about this one w/ Hugo cause it was very experimental and I was trying to capture his inner turmoil within the colors but ehhhh idk idk it’s like 3 am and I want to go to bed okay

especially after what he got you last year.

it was an engagement ring.

yes, he proposed to you on christmas day. which means you have to get him something greater this year. but what could be more meaningful than proposing?

you were trying to figure that out as well.

you tried to go shopping, trying to find something that could woo Mafioso as much as he did you last year.

when you came back home defeated, Mafioso was there to greet you.

"what's wrong, my love?" he asked, trying to comfort you as much as he could.

you were debating on telling him your plan, but your thoughts were interrupted.

"are you trying to get me a christmas gift?" he brought up, chuckling at how you hesitated telling him yes.

"well, just so you know, you can stop your search for the 'perfect christmas gift for me', i already have the best gift right here." he said as he pulled you closer by the waist.

((ALL OF THIS LORE EXPLAINED IS MY HEADCANON aka my truth lol YOU DONT HAVE TO VIEW THEM LIKE THIS! ESPECIALLY IN TERMS OF MY REWRITE! I will never force a perspective. For example, Ralph and Turbo know each other in my rewrite too, if you wanna imagine Demolition Derby instead of Hammertastic that’s cool too!))

Felix is NOT fixated on Turbo at all. Even barely remotely interested in him as a concept anymore. But back in the day they bonded over being neighbors and protagonists of their games (Turbo was kinda focused on how Felix ‘won medals’ and found that as mutual ground to stand on. Felix just thought Turbo needed to talk to someone and stepped in 😭)

This horribly started a relationship! Nothing out in the open, despite Turbo being vocal about all of his ‘wins’ (this basically means he didn’t see Felix as a prize to be won). As much as Turbo is painted in a bad light and was the openly toxic one, Felix isn’t blameless. Felix constantly dodged issues, half way viewing a “Just don’t let it bother you!” Mindset which clashed with Turbo’s “confront the system” mindset. Basically whenever Turbo had a problem it was swept under the rug, and nothing was discussed. Whenever Felix had an issue Turbo was either gung ho on confronting whoever caused it (more for his own self image rather than actually HELPING felix) or could half ass trying to convince Felix he is the best (of his game, at least) and would offer to take Felix on a drive to take his mind off of it (Felix never took this offer. Claimed driving ‘scared’ him. Cough no he just didn’t wanna do it cough)

This isn’t to say they didn’t get along or didn’t have a basis for a relationship. Felix cared, and Turbo isn’t heartless (at this point in time at least). The King Candy persona was not out of the blue, Turbo was always silly and ridiculous when he wanted to be (I just forget to draw it LOL) and Felix found all of his antics to be hilarious. I also think this is works well bc Felix never meets King Candy in WIR :] coulda made some connections…