#even though it's mostly just observation lmao

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[distractionactivated]

I have a dress that I call the Short Dress Of Mildly Stressful Street Encounters. I think it makes it very clear that not only am I not winning the conventional gender game, I'm deliberately playing a different one, and. it doesn't seem to matter how short the time I am out and about someone will react to that.

However, having someone yell 'looking fabulous' from a car going, crucially, the other way is one of the more benign manifestations of this power.

[lilacstro]

Astro observations pt 1

Hey y'all this is my very first post :) Please take it with a grain of salt. These are just my interpretations and observations and a placement could mean million different things on how its being viewed and understood and nothing is sure on how it manifests for you in your chart.

Jupiter in 8th house can mean many things, one of them being your spouse would bring transformative experiences into your life.

2. Scorpio mercuries may have a tendency to over analyze what is being said or always wanting to read between the lines

3. I have seen Pluto in 5th house of all the people who's mothers were dominated. Though this can mean the other way around too, and could be that the mother was dominating.

4. I think other than most people saying Pluto 1st housers go a massive change in appearance, I think it could actually mean that their personality and persona goes a massive change at some point in their life, or its constantly being evolved through learning experiences

5. Venus in 1st house people, are extremely beautiful.

6. Check Asteroid fama (408) and industria(389) if any of these positively aspect your venus, you could get fame for your beauty or work within the beauty industry.

7. Most women with major scorpio/capricorn placements appear intimidating even though it might not be so...but they indeed hold themselves to high regards mostly

8. Having an earth rising in your SR can indicate having a calmer and a predictable year. Nothing chaotic or major. I had Taurus Rising in my SR and I had lost a lot of toxic/chaotic people in my life and things were stable and peaceful throughout. I was on a gap year so I did not make friends either hahaha

9. Having sun/moon in 10th house synastry or 10th house stellium could mean you both together are quite talked about or people are aware towards your feelings towards one another visibly. Sometimes it could also mean, you two's business isnt as private as you think lmao and people are aware on whats happening.

10. Having moon in 10th house in SR can indicate your emotions being extremely visible to everyone, even if you tend to hide them.

11. Libra mars people, might not come off as too masculine but rather a little more in tune with their feminine side (thats cool imo)

12. I think Moon in Gemini people often tend to say "I never said that" when they absolutely said that or "What do you mean" even when its clear what is being talked about lmao.

13. Leo women are usually very outgoing, charismatic and fun imo. Leo anywhere in the big 3 can mean that this side exists to the native though it might be overshadowed by other aspects in the chart. The types to dance at the empty dance floor and then suddenly everyone wants to dance lol

14. I was watching Nat Geo a long time ago and saw how lioness protect their children from the Lions and often go hunting. I think all mothers are protective of their children but for Leo women, its on another level lol. Also, they might like taking pride in their children and providing for their children. Not as in boasting, but just genuinely taking pride.

15. Cancer men and the love for their mothers. NEVER met a single cancer guy who did not have a lot of love for their mother.

16. Sag placements usually Sun and risings usually have a very comforting presence. Even it maybe like you met them for the first time, they can make you feel grounded and comfortable. Very non judgmental too.

17.If you have Saturn in 6th house, please try having a routine even if you might dread it lol

18. Capricorn moon men usually have very traditional or maybe orthodox beliefs about how women should be. I have seen that a lot.

20. Taurus Mars may like slow recreational activities like cooking.

21. Wanna know how you would react during a break up? See your moon+8th house sign. Example, a Leo moon with 8th house in cancer would be extremely emotional and everybody would know.

22. Girls with Libra Sun, Rising or MC may really like makeup and have good fashion sense.

23. Having your moon sign same like your mothers sun sign may indicate some kind of special connection between two of you. It could be that you understand her much better or could be that you don't get along at all too? idk there is something much special about it.

24. Sun in 10th house could mean your dad had a status in society. Could also mean, your birth could bring him luck in his career.

25. Jupiter in second house people usually come from wealth or hold potential to create generational wealth.

support me on ko-fi :)

That's it :) I hope it resonated with you all :)

[uyuforu]

Astro Observations: Solar Return Chart IV

Hi!! Here is another Solar Return Chart Observations post lol. Since I am officially on the new one, I thought of doing another post to conclude and coming back on the last one, meaning the one of last year. Coming back and looking back over what happened :) Let's go! I hope you will enjoy this post ^^ This post has mature and triggering contents, so be aware and careful when reading it!

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart I

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart II

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Chart III

PRIVATE BOOKING OPEN

email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᡣ𐭩 rules ᡣ𐭩 private readings reviews

astrology menu ᡣ𐭩 tarot menu ᡣ𐭩 special astrology & tarot readings

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ I was Leo Rising last year, and I was very popular around me, people were also checking me in the streets. It wasn't even sexual or anything, people were just noticing me super easily, and I was the center of attention wherever I was going.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun 12H indeed meant that loneliness was def going to be there. I was very lonely most of the times, and it's not even physically, it was def mentally. I wasn't seeing my friends often, and I was just feeling very alone in a corner. I felt like no one really understood me and as if I was just left alone. One of my friend passed away suddenly also this year, so I really felt alone for sure. Also the years I was more into Astrology and Tarot! Just a full year of learning more on the spiritual and esoteric side!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Venus 1H, I had a glow up, though it happened quite over night. I don't have much explanations on how it happened. Suddenly I was veryyyy pretty, I bought better make up products, and the way it was showing on my face was just insanely good?? IDK!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mercury 1H, I was more confident when it came to talking to other people. I used to be very shy, and used to not be confident enough to talk to others, but this year I felt more confident to do it. Anxiety when calling, ordering disappeared. And I was less scared to talk back to people.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 1H Ruler in 12H, I was most of the times by myself, mostly doing things on my own, and I felt very alone.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mars 2H, I was much into shopping some times, and I was more anxious and stressed about making money. I had a lot of motivation about it.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 2H Ruler in 1H, I was more spending money on myself.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 3H Ruler in 1H, I was talking more about myself to others, than before. And I was also writing more about myself, for example on the blog I post a lot about my experiences to support my theories.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Scorpio 4H, time at home was stressing and slightly toxic. I had this need to runaway or even live somewhere else. I wanted to escape. My idea of home changed.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 4H Ruler in 6H, staying at home was my routine, I was working from home too.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Vertex 5H, some destined events happened in my love life.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 5H Ruler in 9H, I traveled to NYC last year, and it was for holidays. I traveled to meet someone I loved (who didn't come in the end lmao). I also met another guy who had a crush on me there.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Pluto 6H, I took some weight lol, not so much. Since I moved less because of my job, I kept seating down and took some weight.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 6H Ruler in 7H, I was healing my relationships trauma last year, I went to therapy and understood a lot of traumas I had. I also made a lot of friends at work.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Aquarius DC, a lot of things changed in my relationships, I realized tons tons tons of things!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 7H Ruler in 10H, I was in a serious relationship last year, but 7H was ruled by Uranus, and it didn't end well.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Saturn 7H, didn't see my FS all year, didn't talk to him. And when I asked to meet him, he refused. Def a year I couldn't reach out or talk to him! I also couldn't be in a relationship, or anytime a guy had an interest in my, it's like the Universe worked through to not make it work out. I also broke up with my ex bf that year.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Saturn conjunct Groom, same!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Groom 7H, I realized my FS was my FS last year. I also realized I was in love with him.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Neptune 8H, I had a lot of vivid dreams last year, I dreamed of my mother in law too, and of my FS as well, both of them talking through dreams to me. I also didn't had s3x all year, refused any s3xual advanced. Though, I had a lot of s3xual dreams.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 8H Ruler in 8H, transformation was a keyword last year, I was also more open on the spiritual side, and I had a lot of grow that happened.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Moon 9H, I was constantly learning new things, and more on the spiritual side, and also esoteric. I discovered so many new things, and I needed that. I wanted more and more!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Chiron 9H, i traveled and felt like the travel I did was a waste of time and money lol ;-;

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 9H Ruler in 2H, I traveled to NYC and it was painful for my bank account.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Jupiter 9H, similar to Moon 9H.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Moon conjunct Chiron, my feelings were hurt often this year. I was crying A LOT in general. Perhaps the year I cried the most.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Jupiter conjunct Uranus, a lot of benefic transformation, despite it wasn't that easy sometimes or just very sudden.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Taurus MC, a year of trying to find a harmonious balance at work, and trying to find my way. Was focused on the money I made, and also trying to find a routine through work.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Uranus 10H, I changed jobs twice last year! I was fired, I just changed. And by the end of the second job, I decided to work at my own name. And so, I now work online, as an Astrologer! Uranus also rule here over uncommon jobs.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 10H Ruler in 1H, was more popular, and people noticed me in the crowd more easily. I also decided to work for myself, and started my own company.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 11H Ruler in 1H, I was positing lot more selfies and pictures of me than before online. I also had a lot of internet friends.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Union Cancer 11H, I met one of my best friend last year, she is a Cancer Sun and we met online!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Juno 12H, i was dreaming a lot of my FS this year, also didn't meet or talked to him all year.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ 12H Ruler in 9H, I traveled this year, and overseas!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun conjunct Venus, I was and felt more pretty, a glow up that happened!

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Mercury conjunct Mars, I was more aggressive sometimes when I was speaking, I was often aggressive when trying to stand up for myself, or just explaining myself, I think it was me finding the right adjustment between never standing up for myself before, and doing it now, but not knowing how.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Groom conjunct Neptune, dreamed a lot of my FS.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Sun opposite DC, didn't see or talked to my FS for the whole SRC, I also didn't want to be in a relationship.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ Venus conjunct Rising, very same as Venus 1H or Sun conjunct Venus.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[cazshmere]

Synastry Observations Pt.2

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🍊⭐️

🍊 Mars in the 12th house synastry has got to be one of the worst things 😭. It’s confusing and exhausting. The Mars person seems to harbour some sort of irrational animosity towards the house person in a very passive-aggressive way. The house person can sense this too, but they are unsure if they’re making it up or not. Also, it’s such a blockage; you could be really close to each other and know of each other, but the conversation WOULD TAKE AGES to start because neither the house person nor the Mars person wants to initiate conversation. It’s like there’s an invisible barrier between you guys 🥲

🍊 Venus in the 8th house/ in Scorpio’s first romantic relationship or situation always ends up hurting them. I’ve seen this countless times where their first experience with romance either ends in heartbreak, unrequited love, or just a missed opportunity. This heartbreak helps these individuals immensely transform, and they might prefer to isolate themselves from anything romance-related for a long period of time. Honestly I think this is a canon event for every Scorpio/8th house Venus that I’ve met, including me lmao and especially if there are Venus-Saturn hard aspects, dear lord, sending love to all my scorp/8th house placements fr🫶🏻🥲❤️‍🩹

🍊 Something I’ve observed with Libra placements, especially the moon, is that when they’re in a relationship, it becomes the focal point of their life. They might go as far as changing career paths to be closer to their partner, altering their style to match their partner’s preferences, or adjusting their personality to be more appealing to their partner (yes I’m sure most of us do this to some extent but it’s a bit excessive for these peeps😭). Their relationship becomes such a central part of their identity that if anything goes wrong, it can feel devastating for them. For instance, I have a friend who is a Libra moon, and she always refers to her partner as “my boyfriend” instead of his name, even though we all know him personally, like gurl come on he’s got a name haha😭

🍊 Moon in the 12th house synastry can equate to the house person opening up to the moon person or just feeling extremely vulnerable around them. They’d share things with the moon person that they dare not share with anyone else. This synastry could also mean staying up late in the night and throwing your sleep away just to talk to each other 🧿

🍊 12th house synastry could also have undertones of enemies-to-lovers (the lovers part only if you ever get together, that is) because there’s this energy where you don’t know why the other person acts hostile/passive-aggressive towards you, ignores you, or sends you mixed signals that makes you dislike them but at the same time, you can’t stop fantasizing/dreaming about them in all these romantic scenarios or them showing up in your dreams outta nowhere like??😭

🍊 7th/8th and even 10th (to some extent) house synastry could indicate that one of the two, either the house person or the planet person (mostly the house person), copies the other, be it mannerisms, clothes, slang, or even certain traits of the other’s personality 💀. It’s because they notice how much attention or admiration the planet person garners, so to obtain that same kind of attention and recognition the house person might try to emulate the planet person 🫤

🍊 7th house Mars synastry can be very annoying and tiresome (especially for the house person). The Mars person could be a bit too much for the house person. The Mars person could get very petty and passive-aggressive towards the house person for no reason (this could go vice versa too). Yes there is sexual attraction and y’all could motivate/support each other through stuff but at the same time it’s draining asf, a big no no for me when it comes to synastry 🥲

🍊 Moon square Saturn synastry can cause delays when it comes to emotional attachment between two people, but once these two finally connect, it’s ride or die typa relationship fr 🥺🫂

🍊 Moon/Mercury in the 1st/5th/9th house synastry is very exciting and fun-loving, with lots of playful teasing and bantering with each other 😋🥰

🍊Moon /Mercury in the 2nd/4th/8th/10th/12th house synastry makes both parties very sensitive to each other’s words because these houses reflect our self esteem/self worth, the deepest parts of ourselves, our core, our reputation etc. A little bit of critique can also be taken personally by either party. Even harmless jokes could be taken in the wrong way and arguments could occur (especially if there isn’t 3rd/5th/9th/11th house synastry or any easy aspects in the synastry chart)

🍊 When someone's planets fall in your 8th house, they intuitively sense your true and deep needs related to that planet. For example, if someone's Venus is in your 8th house, they will know how to love you in a way that makes you feel unconditionally loved and appreciated. If their Mercury is in your 8th house, they will understand how to communicate with you on a profound level, meeting your need for deep and meaningful conversation. If their Mars is in your 8th house, they will instinctively know how to meet your sexual needs and desires and please you in bed🖤❤️‍🔥

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

banner credits : @anitalenia <3

[sagigirlie]

Astro observations pt.6

Venus-Jupiter Can be pretty Lucky, attracts wealth, positive and socially magnetic, usually well liked, charismatic. can be promiscuous as they like to try and experience and love to be loved, good sense of humor, adventures, loves food and the good things in life. can be addicted/obsess or overdo things that make them feel good like food, sex, shopping, partying and drinking/ doing drugs.

Venus-Neptune- very dreamy . Likely to have a crush on tv/movie characters. Very giving in love. Be Careful not to be taken advantage of bc of that.

Virgo placements- super professionals. Great workers. Good work ethic. workaholics. Somehow always gives fox-like look or the ones to look like an animal the most for some reason haha

It’s true, cancer placements (especially sun moon & ascendant) in girls gives round big boobs lol. I noticed cancer sun/moon/rising females also tend to have skinnier (& sometimes longer) legs & wider stomach with big boobs and roundish face or fuller cheeks. *(note: I’ve noticed if cancer females don’t have beautiful round boobs they’ll have very small boobs. No in-between- no shade here though haha)

Cancer placements in men are usually tender, cute & sweet and have a vulnerability about them that provokes the mom instincts in female lmao. Might want u to mommy them. But don’t get them mad cause they might not be as innocent as they may look. Likes more feminine girls in looks & behavior. Also they’ll usually be good at handling ur emotions and make u feel accepted & understood. Might like more emotionally complexed partners. Can be attracted to deepness & vulnerability as well.

Aquarius sun man and capricorn sun females will likely attract each other but not workout in the long haul. Marriage will be harder to manage for these two for some reason from what I’ve seen. I think it’s cause Aquarius are more flighty and living in their own world and fantasies, they might even be delusional at times as their more idealistic and are not the most manly as the Capricorn female looks for a more hard working grounded stable and realistic man for most.

Virgo females can be serous bullies & mean girls when they want. There. I said it. (Although they might look innocent).

Leo-cancer influence in a chart can make you want lots of attention and especially emotional attention & they are the more likely to use manipulation and deceit to get what they want. Leo-libra are more likely to want physical attention (also about their looks). they’ll do it mostly by trying to look fire lol.

Aries moon females are psychotic u can’t tell me otherwise lol. Talked about it before but they can be very very selfish, jealous and paranoid and/or self absorbed. Seen it time after time. Can have a very bad tamper and be rude and impulsive when upset or when something doesn’t go the way they want. Can be bossy & demanding. Can literally black out when mad. They can’t control it.

Pisces females might have a thing with girls tryna steal their man ? Not sure but seen it a few times. Or they’ll try to steal your man. Especially Pisces & Aries influence in a chart together. They can be attracted to unavailable or taken man. Seen it happen a lot. Careful cause some of them won’t stop at a red light. They can go after your man still. Maybe it’s hot to them ? Or makes them feel better about themselves especially with the competitive Aries influence and the unavailability that Pisces can be attracted to.

Aquarius mars can really be attracted (sexually or not) to individualism and uniqueness in people. More than looks that’s what will drive them to u. Just watched drake say that and he’s an Aqua mars (like me). The more real and different u are the better (but not too crazy lol). You need to pop outta the crowd for them to notice u more. They can like cool calm & collected people that have a cynical/clever or different sense of humor. The ones that won’t necessarily try to shine (unlike Leo’s- the opposite of aqua). Maybe even the more loner type vibes. Sexy mysterious guy/girl in the corner that sticks out without trying. They themselves can be that person too haha. love funny & intelligent people that can hold a conversation.

I feel like Aquarius & scorpio in a chart can give vampire vibes to a person (maybe looks or energy). Also they might like all that vampire shit like twilight or vampire diaries haha (me lmao). (Also Ian somerholder has that combo)

Capricorn venus can be very insecure. They need to learn to love and accept themselves truly. Stop self-sabotaging urself and/or ur relationships.

[anna-the-undertaker]

The Boys reaction to a Blue Collar Worker MC who was summoned to the Devildom in nothing but a towel...

I finally did this after so long.... Idk whats happening but I've been on a writing kick recently so we will see how you all like my writing I guess lmao also we are ignoring how mammon wasn't in the room when MC arrives in game cause I'm lazy.

Tags: @lurkingblue @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

part 1

Lucifer

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight before him. A human, fresh out of a bath and barely coherent, standing in the heart of the Devildom, had the audacity to speak in such a manner. The request for clothes, food, and rest was delivered with a bluntness that bordered on insolence. Normally, he wouldn't tolerate such disrespect, especially not in Diavolo's presence. Lucifer prided himself on order and discipline, and this human's arrival was anything but. He could feel his patience thinning, a not so rare occurrence that he worked hard to suppress. This was the human chosen by Diavolo? His expression remained impassive, but the air around him grew colder as he spoke. "You are in no position to make demands, human. Consider yourself fortunate that Lord Diavolo is more generous than I."

How he looks back on it now: Lucifer, sitting with a glass of Demonus in hand, would let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I still can't believe that was our first impression of them. Summoned to the Devildom in a towel, dripping water all over the floor like they owned the place. And then—then—they have the audacity to demand food, clothes, and a bed as if they were checking into a five-star hotel. I knew from that moment that MC would be nothing but trouble... and I wasn’t wrong.”

Mammon

Mammon, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement, couldn’t help but let out a bark of a laugh. This human was something else. Appearing in the middle of the Devildom, demanding food and a place to sleep like they owned the place? Mammon could almost admire that kind of guts, if it wasn't so ridiculous. But he was also intrigued. They were obviously tired and out of their depth, but there was a spark of defiance in them that piqued his curiosity. "Hey, hey, maybe we should cut ‘em some slack, yeah? Look at ‘em, they’re about ready to keel over. Not exactly how I pictured meetin’ a human though…"

How he looks back on it now: Mammon would be laughing, practically doubled over. “Ya shoulda seen Lucifer’s face! He was so mad, but he didn’t know what to do! And then there’s MC, barely awake, tellin’ us off like we were the ones who interrupted their shower! They’re a riot, I tell ya. I knew right then and there—this human was gonna be somethin’ special.”

Leviathan

Leviathan blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was seeing. This was supposed to be the human exchange student? This tired, wet mess of a person who was talking like they had just walked into a convenience store? Levi was torn between feeling embarrassed for them and being mildly impressed by their nerve. But mostly, he just felt awkward. He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding direct eye contact, his facing burning with a fierce blush as he searched for something to hide behind. "This is so… weird. Like, who even does that? Walking into a place like this… in a towel? It’s like something out of a bad anime."

How he looks back on it now: Levi would be blushing, trying to hide behind his manga. “I mean, it was like something out of an anime, right? The clueless protagonist just casually demanding things from these powerful beings… it’s straight out of a ‘reverse isekai’ plot! But honestly, I was too busy being embarrassed for them to laugh at the time. Now, though? It’s kind of hilarious. They just… stood there, barely dressed, like it was no big deal!”

Satan

Satan observed the human with a critical eye. The situation was strange, even by Devildom standards, but it also presented an interesting puzzle. Who was this human to speak so boldly? They were clearly exhausted, pushed to their limits, but there was something almost… primal about their directness. It was as if survival instincts had taken over. "Interesting. They’re either incredibly brave or too exhausted to care about decorum. I wonder how long they’ll last here if this is how they start."

How he looks back on it now: Satan would smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I admit, I didn’t expect a mere human to have the nerve to make demands right after being summoned. It was… refreshing, to say the least. I could see the frustration in Lucifer’s eyes, and I knew I was going to enjoy having MC around. They didn’t bow down in fear—they just wanted a nap. Brilliant.”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus couldn’t help but giggle, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. This human was definitely not what he had expected. They were dripping water everywhere, their hair clinging to their skin, and yet, instead of being mortified, they were making demands. It was almost endearing in its own way, like a lost kitten mewling for attention. "Oh my, aren’t you just precious? But darling, if you’re going to make demands like that, at least do it with a bit more flair. Still, I think we can find you something more… suitable to wear or you could just lose the towel all together."

How he looks back on it now: Asmo would be giggling, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. “Oh, it was such a scandal! A human, in a towel, dripping wet in front of everyone! And yet, they had this… effortless confidence. It was kind of hot, honestly. And their skin looked amazing—I was so jealous! I just knew I had to befriend them. Anyone who can pull off an entrance like that is someone I need to know!”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s concern was immediate but simple. The human was obviously tired and hungry, and those were things he could easily understand. He frowned slightly, glancing around the room as if expecting someone to step in and help. "They should eat something. And rest. They said they’re about to pass out. We can figure everything else out after."

How he looks back on it now: Beel would nod thoughtfully, his focus split between the memory and whatever snack he’s holding. “I just remember being really confused… and hungry. They said something about food, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I could go for a snack too.’ But they didn’t even seem scared, just tired and hungry. I get that. We connected on a deep level that day.”

Diavolo

Diavolo, on the other hand, was more fascinated than anything else and couldn't help the booming laugh that escaped him. The human’s arrival, so raw and unfiltered, was not what he had planned, but it was a glimpse into their true character. He appreciated the honesty in their exhaustion and the way they set boundaries despite being in an unfamiliar and likely frightening situation. "Welcome to the Devildom," he said warmly, his voice cutting through the tension. "We will, of course, ensure you are taken care of. Rest first, and we’ll discuss everything else when you’re ready."

How he looks back on it now: Diavolo would laugh heartily, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, that was classic! I thought we were about to welcome our human exchange student with a grand, royal introduction. You know, something to set the tone! And then… poof! In they come, in nothing but a towel, demanding food and a nap! I couldn’t help but admire their spirit—who else would have the audacity to make demands of a demon lord? Honestly, I knew right then that they were going to make things very interesting around here.”

Barbatos

Barbatos watched with his usual calm demeanor, though his mind was already calculating what would be needed to accommodate this unexpectedly demanding guest. He was intrigued by their bluntness, a trait not often seen in someone so new to the Devildom. "It seems we have our work cut out for us. I’ll prepare something for them to wear and eat. This situation, unusual as it is, can be addressed once they’ve had the rest they need."

How he looks back on it now: Barbatos would smile subtly, a hint of amusement in his usually composed demeanor. “It was certainly… unexpected. I remember thinking, ‘Ah, this is going to be a challenge.’ I had prepared everything for a formal welcome, and suddenly I was considering where I could find suitable clothing on such short notice. But what really stood out was their confidence. They weren’t intimidated at all—just tired. It was almost endearing, in a way. Though I must admit, I’ve never had to prepare a royal feast for someone who was dripping on the floor before.”

The other characters after hearing of MC's dramatic arrival later -

Belphegor

Belphegor, still hidden away, was not present to witness the scene firsthand, but the way the human handled their introduction would later reach his ears. He would find it amusing, this tired human, dragged into a world they couldn’t possibly understand and still demanding rest. It would have made him laugh, perhaps even endeared them to him in a strange way, though he’d never admit it. “I think it's hilarious. They were so focused on getting some sleep, just like me. Honestly, I'm impressed. I don’t even care that they're human. Anyone who prioritizes a nap over everything else has their priorities straight in my book.”

Simeon

Simeon would laugh softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, MC. Only you could be summoned into a realm of demons in nothing but a towel and somehow manage to make demands! I can just imagine the look on Lucifer’s face. It’s impressive—you're like a stubborn ray of sunshine cutting through the darkest clouds. I’d love to have seen it!”

Luke

Luke would be flabbergasted, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and indignation. “They were summoned like that? That’s so unfair! I bet they were freezing! Who does that? Demons, apparently! But you know what? Good for them for telling those demons off! That’s what they deserve for being so unprepared. If I were there, I would’ve given them a piece of my mind too!”

Solomon

Solomon would be grinning, clearly amused by the whole scenario. “That’s classic MC—turning a moment of complete chaos into one where they’re the one calling the shots. I can just picture them standing there, dripping water all over the floor, and casually telling the future King of the Devildom that they need a nap. Honestly, it’s moments like this that make me glad I chose them as my apprentice. They’ve got the kind of audacity that most people can only dream of!”

Rapheal

Raphael, known for his serious demeanor, would hear about MC’s first arrival to the Devildom and probably raise an eyebrow, trying to picture the scene. "So, they appeared in a towel and demanded food and rest? Bold. Very bold." After a pause, he’d add with a rare smirk, "They might survive down here better than I thought."

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles, with his aristocratic air, would be caught between disbelief and amusement. “They really told Lucifer and Diavolo off in a towel? If only I could’ve seen that! The looks on their faces must’ve been priceless. Perhaps I’ll write a column about the ‘indecent’ summons of the human exchange student!” He’d chuckle at his own joke, imagining the uproar it would cause.

Thirteen

Thirteen, with her mischievous streak, would find the whole thing hilarious. “They really popped in like that? A towel, dripping water, and told everyone to get their act together? That’s brilliant! I would’ve loved to see everyone’s reaction. I bet Lucifer’s face turned fifty shades of red. I like this human already—got some real spunk!” She’d laugh, already planning some pranks inspired by the story.

[zivazivc]

What kind of nu metal music fits Les's band?

First of all I gotta clarify that I sent this ask myself because I accidentally lost the original through constant editing and drafting. I realize I could just make a regular text post but I'm quirky like that, and a question is a nice little attention grabber for those who are interested.

Anyway...

It's hard to point at one song and say this is their sound, because A: I'm picky, B: the band's style changes over time, and C: I don't know what I'm doing lmao

This answer is very long uhh I don't seem to be able to form short responses, mi scusi 😅

Back at home the brothers' music and then also the first year on the road with Flea the band sounds like the albums Music and especially Grassroots by 311. (Grassroots is such a banger of an album, I listen to it all the time, really recommend.)

Hed's the main influence on the band's sound because he's the main vocalist, songwriter and overall the most invested in the band succeeding (Les's main concern is making ends meet, and Flea is just enjoying the ride lol). At the start Hed and Les have had basically no contact with Rock Trolls so even though they're both more metal/punk than regular rock, their "rock side" is softer at this point. Hed also grew up with hip hop because of his peers so there's a lot of rapping in his lyrics. And he also incorporates reggae into his style a lot because of his favorite uncle, Kymani (one of the guys who live with Ish) who is a Reggae Troll. Hed is pretty much a sponge when it comes to music, much like Floyd. The closest I can come to describing his genre is a fusion of Rap Metal and Reggae Rock which are both already fusion genres jskksdjsk

(The band 311 has two singers and oddly they both sound like Hed and Les to me. SA Martinez (the higher of the two voices) sounds 100%, exactly like how I've imagined Hed's voice in my head. For Les I have a different voice claim because Les's personal style of music is much different from the band, but Nick Hexum (the lead vocalist here) is still in the second place when it comes to voice alone. Imagine my enthusiastic surprise finding voices for both brothers in the same band 😄)

examples from the two albums:

...

While driving around and performing small gigs they come in contact with the alternative and nu metal scene and meet a lot of Rock Trolls (mostly various Metal Trolls) and other mixed trolls, and in the following couple of years their sound gradually becomes heavier (Hed rediscovers screamo lol) and they go from rock to metal.

A year into their "touring" is also around the time Hed meets and starts dating Liv and gets her to join the band. Liv's genre has the heaviest sound of all of them (Industrial/EBM), which influences Hed and the band too. And with Liv on the drums, Hed takes over DJ-ing and is also able to put more focus on the vocals, which also makes Les step down and only sing backing vocals with the rest of the band if needed.

The band in this era sounds like the album Revolution by Insolence and to some degree Introduction to Mayhem by Primer 55.

examples from the albums:

...

Two years into the bands existence is when Floyd runs into them. At first he's more just standing there, observing their practices and performances warily, because he's had bad experiences with Rock Trolls in his one year alone and metal music still kinda freaks him out at this point. But he soon starts joining in in melodic parts and then it progresses into him singing longer and longer segments because he has the strongest vocals of everyone. And once he saves enough of his earnings for a guitar he starts playing the rhythm guitar too. (The guitar he took with him when he left the Troll Tree got stolen before he met the band.)

I guess I should clarify: Flea is the lead guitarist, Les is the bassist, and Liv and Hed switch on the drums and DJ-ing depending on the track. At one point they also get a keyboard.

It's also not that long before Hed and Floyd start actively writing songs together, sharing each others notes, and they start to split the singing parts more evenly. Hed even teaches Floyd screamo techniques, because he thinks Floyd has a great voice for them (He is correct, Floyd has a mean scream 😁).

During this time the band still pretty much sounds like Revolution by Insolence but with more melodic singing parts from Floyd (and screaming/shouting lmao). I think Verge of Umbra is another good band to compare, it sounds more clean and Floydy but still Hedy. (Man, I should write scientific research papers skjdkjf)

↑↑↑ song with the lyrics from the drawing at the top

From here on out I'm a bit unsure how the band's sound develops, but I'm pretty sure Floyd would unintentionally infect them with a mild case of radio friendliness (Pop trolls can't help their in your face nature lmao 😞). So for now I'm stopping here...

This took me days of searching and writing so I would appreciate to hear any thoughts you have if you've come this far and given some of the songs a listen. :)

[chokchokk]

𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 | park seonghwa x fem!reader x choi san

part one of gangster!mafia!series "𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞-𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞"

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Picking your own poison, if poison was given to you in form of bankrolls by venomous men with high demands.

In which Park Seonghwa had a plan and Choi San has ideas.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : noir, smut, angst | korean mafia/geondal!au | ceo/jaebeol!au

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 18.2k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : entitled rich people, workplace harassment, alcoholism, softdom ceo!seonghwa (headman park), half-drunk satoori-using dom mafiaboss!san (mr. choi), both are called by their names at some point, sub-leaning bratty switch servant!femreader, use of (pet-)names (missy, baby, princess), groping, thigh-riding, light choking, light hair-pulling, non-penetrative sex, voyeur!seonghwa, sex in the elevator, counts as mirror sex right, biting kink, manhandling!san, edging, breeding, cum-eating (m), cunnilingus; reader hates the rich except for when they are sexy, implied but not severe age gap, writer does not have daddy kink but mafiaboss!san does, gunshots and death, use of korean proverbs

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : this with the next part will be the origin story for reader, specifically the series synopsis’ first half :) originally, this has been a request, so please read this, if you desire to have a bit more insight to what the series actually is + translations of certain terms (mostly character dynamics) in this chapter !!

tl;dr: since it's all based around korean mafia/gangster/etc, there will be korean culture scattered between the lines. it is all translated, hopefully in an understandable way!!! (please hmu if there are difficulties) i let out honorifics/romanisation, except for "chaebol" since it's an actual word :) that being said, reader's ethnicity is not specified and won't be relevant to the series in any way !! 

smut comes after the second border, and uh,,, i had to shorten that shit (pls dont ask me where) but uh. you’re getting 8k words of smut so buckle up LMAO !!! i hope you enjoy as much as i did writing it !!! thank you for likes, reblogs and feedback xoxo (also this is NOT beta-read so pls dont hesitate to tell me about... like.... errors, tags and shit)

[ now playing : money ▸ pink floyd | listen to the playlist ]

It's getting repetitive. They are drinking their ninth bottle of expensive whiskey, smoking their third or fourth disgustingly pricey cigar— what the fuck, is this seriously what the upper men of your nation are doing at some stupid chairman’s dinner party?

“Missy!”

“Me, sir?”

No wonder the economy's fucking shit.

“Yeah, you, missy, give that gent over there one of our divine Denmarks!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give him a kiss too, while you’re at it! What do you think? He’s still got it, no?”

Said ‘gent’, some old, scummy clown— winks at you, his gray eyelashes fluttering towards your direction.

“Yes, sir."

God, how bad you wish you had snuck your phone in to take a picture of these red, drunken, senseless faces, but you're a dutiful servant, abiding by the rules at all times, however difficult it may be. You’re holding in your puke professionally, not even doing something as to grit your teeth, just softly letting your jaw play along to your friendly smile.

“Does your willy even still work that way, old friend?", a cranky, yet humorous voice pitches in.

Agreeing to your supervisor’s offer to earn “big money” may have been a bad idea, but a good choice. Jongho said he’d seen you at your work, took special note of you— even though you weren’t sure where exactly he had observed you, since it’s only been a month of actually working as a servant in the lower tiers of the building— and wanted to give you a chance to swim with the big sharks. “I think you’re best suited for the job,” is what he said to make you giggle and think about your initial rejection of his proposition, “you have a talent for serving.”

Something you didn’t know you had, something you didn’t know someone would see in you ever in your life, “talent.” Sure, maybe you let yourself be persuaded a bit too fast, but it felt very touching that somebody saw you and saw potential, for whatever occasion it may be for. You don’t necessarily want to screw the rules of the hierarchical pyramid or what it was that kept you from being in the proximity of the chairman, but you really need the extra cash right now.

"What does a girl from the mountains look for in being a servant in the city?", had been the question you were asked by Lady Kim who gave you the leftovers of her restaurant at the end of the day, when you had just started with the training– poor, barely standing on your own feet. 

You remember how you explained to her that the buddhist monks who raised and send you here surrounded themselves with wells to remind everyone that water always returned, and you assumed it would work the same with wealth. You also remember how hard she tried to stay kind to you, showing you her sincerest sympathy by telling you that "the chaebol are no joke!" (at least not a joke, an innocent girl like you could laugh about, she later explained) and giving you an extra portion of her home-made dumplings to suit you up.

Her sharp, yet compassionate voice rings in your ears, as you reapply your red lipstick on the way to your target guest. Oh, Lady Kim, what a graceful woman– she put her all into her work for her restaurant to succeed, but had always made a place to share what she had for those who needed it. Such a lovable woman, she must have been well-liked by all around her.

You get it now, the way you had been so naive back then. Floating on the philosophical happy-go-lucky psyche of the city’s promise of prosperity, trying to live the Korean dream strangely enough as someone who was so sarcastically out of touch with it. If you had been in her position, you wouldn’t have been able to be as nice, no, would have warned yourself with a finger pointed upwards as if you were teaching a little kid about strangers, or how your monks said, ‘tigers in the woods’.

“After that cigar, his dick will turn to dust!”

Maybe things would have looked different, if you hadn’t taken that fund from the school’s superintendent, who slid you that card on your table with a smirk on his face. Oh dear, do you remember how excited you had been? You ran through the streets in your worn-out shoes with that plastic sheet in your hand, on your way to tell that the money on it was such a ridiculously high number that you could split— but Lady Kim had got to know it first, the ridiculousness of the rich, with the demolition of her restaurant-building.

“He’s got no cum in his nutsacks ‘no more anyway!”

No warning, no compensation, just everything crushed to pieces to make place for the big corporations; the fancy neon-signs she'd invested in, the ambition of her enthusiastic dreams, your only source of tender charity, shattered to a wreck. You have never seen her since, and can only laugh about how the fancy food of the chaebol—and you definitely know who they are now, those tasteless men gawking at you in the moment—doesn’t even look half as good as her low-cost black bean noodles you could more than afford now. 

The present day-you is less dreamy, but just as lost, forced to work off a debt you hadn’t been informed about when you lived off the favorable “fund”-money. No, Lady Kim, this is all a joke, you would tell her today. A really fucking bad one.

So, making room for another ha-ha in your life, you pulled your eyes up innocently, returning Jongho’s specious smiles. “Is it illegal to collect pocket-money from the rich?” It’s not like you had any doubts at that point, but 'they'll buy you out of prison if you’re good enough' was all you needed anyway to put your uniform on tightly at home.

"Can't even shoot his cum in missy to save his blood!"

Your more experienced co-workers are watching you work with a condescending frown, feeling both jealous you're getting all the men's attention, but also maliciously delighted you're being challenged as the new-coming servant who's obviously of erotic interest to these richlings. They want you to get a "taste of life" for you may be the most goody-goody fawning bitch they have ever seen; just a young birdbrain who has nothing to bring to the table except her body. Young thing won’t hold up, doesn't know who she's working with— though they are quite right about that part, you must admit, you frankly didn’t look up whose money you’re taking right now— she doesn’t know who the fuck she is.

"What? Did his son leave the company, too?"

It’s flattering to know that the other pretty servants look at you and only see some candy-coated muppet, but fairly, your ever-frozen smile on your face doesn’t give them much to work with. You’re simply an annoyance to their routine, and if you could, you would like to comfort them by saying none of the money you’re getting will stay in your hands– they’d be so happy to hear that you’re really worth nothing– but you must stay focused.

“Idiot, he’s only got a daughter!”

So yes, that being said, you’re glad nobody ever asks you about you. Everyone just assumes, judges from what they see, and if what they see is an opportunistic bimbo-girl chasing money, then so be it, right?

"You know, the one he married off to the governor?”

Right. Because you too have not a single second to think nor talk about your past. The present is scarce and the future is fragile, you know it the best. And you owe it to your old men to make the best out of their efforts, don't you? The air in this room may not be the one you inhaled in the mountains, but you still have to use it, breathe, be alive, despite how moldy and spoiled it simmers in your throat.

"Real mad! Anything to avoid that fee, huh, missy? Got no semen and no glory! You really want to give him that cigar?”

So, that taste of life? Fucking bitter, just like how that name 'missy' seeps and sweats on your tongue. You can’t loathe your co-workers for this reason, they're basically in the same wooden, shaky boat as you, but these asswipes here are floating on a fucking yacht. Of course they don't follow some type of code of human decency for you, they don't give two shits about the lowlifes, the poor. They watch them like a spectacle, and because they don't regard you as a human-being but rather a toy, they play with you on strings that are, on the other hand, binding together a big, fat bankroll.

Ka-Ching.

Eyes on the price, Y/N, eyes on the price. You may not own a lot, that's been more than established, but if there is something you have, it's dutifulness, commitment, and proficiency. It will remain difficult to keep inner peace and honor with a job of which "duty" it is to be a deferential, subservient doll, but at least you're alive and well, soon to leave this floor with more money to your name that these fuckers don't know anyway, right? Never let that smile drop, smart girl. You have a talent, just like your supervisor said. Just keep on serving.

“No children-makin' is better for the cheatin'— ha!”, the barren, that fruitless man who’s been made fun of whoops in to stand up for himself, and awaits his tobacco that's being driven to him by your cart.

You open up the wooden chest in which the cheroots, so unnecessarily gold-plated, sit and ridicule you with their rare existence. There are just thousands of dollars sitting in your hand right now, and as you fetch the thick roll with wary fingers, you think, fucking hell, this could feed so many people, and they're just smoking it away like it's nothing, assholes.

The other servants frown at you spitefully during the time you bow down. You're sensually placing the brown cylindrical object into his mouth, a match lighting held to his face to light it up. In addition to the experience, you hold one long stare with his washy eyes, because you assume it will ignite him.

And, oh, how excited he gets.

"Thank you, sir," you chuckle and flutter with your eyelashes, pursing up your lips like you’re an innocent little girl getting a piece of candy behind her parents’ back.

“Just mad! Missy's young enough to be your grandchild, fella!”

You’re aware of exactly what your dear co-workers are thinking, but being ordered to light their cigs and then ogled at is not "baby-treatment” or whatever they’re muttering under their breath, it's your subtle strategy to have that bankroll be slid between your thighs.

"Hey now, I still can get it on! Don't you think so too, missy?"

Dumb Y/N, only has money on her mind. Allows herself to be called "missy", like a dumb fucking slut. 

Hm, kind of has a ring to it, don't you think?

"Yes, sir."

Let them all think you're a dummy. Let them believe, believe each other's words in whatever they fucking want. You're almost too certain it's the secret reason Jongho offered you a place here anyway; "suited for the job", because he deems you dense enough to not understand any of the nonsense these twelve men are babbling, "big money", because he knows you will do anything for it. 

You’ll still take the talent, but if he really thinks the rest, then oh, sucks to be him.

Yes, you haven’t looked up the names of who the men here are for the same reasons they're not using yours, but the second you’re out of this whiny, weak testosterone-drowned room, you're going to write the most thorough blackmail, because you can not listen to their cheating, money-laundering, corrupted bullshit anymore. Getting involved with the handshakers is the last thing you should do if you want to live a silent, carefree life, and you know this too well, but they're not going to believe it was you anyway. They wouldn’t dream of their missy to do such a competent, smart thing. You even know what you're going to write under the letter so they have something to think about in their cells: 'birds listen to the words of day, mice to the words at night'— walls have ears, too.

Ah, the soft, sometimes very cryptic voice of your favorite old monk. Always there to teach you new things, remind you of how to live your life cheerfully. You still believe he would have rather kept you in the mountains and not drop you on a wild voyage into the unknown urban life, but your old man had his reincarnation coming. You should visit his grave again, it's been a while, hasn't it? Wouldn't he be so proud to see you? To see how much his little Y/N has grown and learnt, using his proverbs to restore justice? Well, for what you still can collect of your late mentor, he would probably make big eyes and use his whole body to keep your monetary gift away from him. "Teacher," you would ask, "don't you at least want to save?", and his answer would remain the same;

"Peace comes free."

You feel warm at the distant memory of the bald-headed man warming himself in his orange gown, teaching you about love, harmony and kindness, but that sweet veil of untainted innocence has long dropped from your eyes.

In front of you, you see tycoons continuing having a blast being their shitty selves, and as golden teeth blend your sight, they are entertaining each other by staring at your legs that are covered by your sheer black stockings, whispering their insight of how you'd look like under it, but the mini-skirt only leaves so much for imagination.

"Sweet missy!"

How could you not want to spit into their face? They have bought the war. They have bought the chaos. And why? Just because they can. It doesn't cost you anything to restore some peace, maybe that’s the thing your old man got right.

"Yes, sir?”

“Do you have any Cubans left, sweet missy?”

“A Cuban, coming right up, sir.”

“Hopefully someone’s gonna come after the party tonight!”

Are you humiliated? As someone who lived among the wisest, clearest heads, and was considered just as smart by them to be wished a ‘more fortunate life’ — No.

You couldn’t care less about their perversions. Especially now, when they seemingly don’t care enough to know your name you've introduced yourself with. You are here for one reason, and it's not to prove your worth to the world, it's to secure your place in it, get that parasitic debt off your shoulders.

And if anything, as long you are staying truthful to yourself, there’s nothing that could take away your spirit. That’s what you want to believe, at least. When you’re out of debt and continue with this job, you could spend every day downtown like the other servants, but for you, it's all going to the savings for the family you're going to feed with not one worry in life on the clear land in the mountains, not under a sky that's polluted by light even when the sun has set.

The clock has announced night long time ago. Outside the windows, there shines and roams a loud, restless city under a starless, foggy black blanket, inhabited by people like you who live day by day to make their living, like small flies forgathered in a hive of exhausting labor, buzzing their life away.

It’s what you think every time you peek down the glass room: Seoul has never looked so small. Across and around the ever-flowing Han-River, the metropole is the home of millions who are looking up with their heads far back their necks to the point right here, where you stand, at the center or peak of all the wealth gathered together, inside the highest building standing tall amidst of the tumult, on the 114th floor, towering over the world in a luxurious dining room decorated by exotic animals, marbled statues and most importantly the filthy glimmer of something they call ‘class’.

“Missy,” the chairman calls out for you, raising his hand, right after he’s made another infidelity joke and showed his luxurious wedding ring to the audience.

“Yes, sir?”, you call out, wearing your pristine servant-smile with your hands folded nicely in front of your stomach, voice not tainted by your disgust as to even one note, despite the other servants looking at you with hateful expressions. They wish you the worst; the worst treatment, the worst performance, anything to get you out of this place. 

Maybe they're driven by the same instincts and avarice that makes you hate the rich,  with them just thinking you're taking away their money, but it's free territory here with these predators; you just make for great prey.

It’s a challenge to all of the people involved and the contestants can only win. Will it be another pick-up line? You're going to pick on that with ease. Another joke about your age? That one is never going to get old. There, bring it on, you think, and feel proud of your confident spirit, ready to run with whatever they throw and stash it into your wallet.

“You see those youngsters back there? Get 'em some more ice."

“Yes, sir.”

“Chaps don't know how to drink the good stuff yet, what a waste! Next time, buy 'em the cheap soju from the mart! The ones for 5,000 Won, missy, you know those?”

“Yes, sir.” Your whole face flashes a smile, bowing to accept the task of refilling some ice, dragging your cart across the room, as male laughter rings in your ears. It's as if they don't realize they also drink cheap liquor, but you suppose that's forgettable when they are flushing the fanciest of meats down with it.

"Be careful, missy!"

Are you being too mild by saying you want to ram the green glass-bottles into their heads?

"They bite!”

Maybe choke them with their own money bills?

Yes, “Yes, sir.”

It's a fun exercise to fantasize about how to hurt them, so you thought you would be busy enough to ignore the chairman's warning, but as you are on your long way to the end of the even longer glass table to push your cart towards the men he is referring to, there's a growing feeling inside your guts that oh, the chairman may be ... 

Huh, right for the first time. The quizzical lump expands warmly as much as it is cold, with goosebumps running down your spine, your hands feeling hotter than ever over the metal cart. Your whole body is trying to signal you that something is off on the other side of the table, but you don’t know whether to ignore it or run.

The annoying, empty-minded, impertinent elders, who have been belly-laughing at the chairman's joke a second ago stop with their chatting and only exhale huffs, and prolong them nervously, that’s off. The servants gulping, loosening their crossed arms– that’s off, too. 

“So, uhh… Where was the, uh– food from?”

“Oh, lad, good topic, yes– the delicious food…”

It seems that everyone in the room is trying to fill in the silence with the fakest of laughter, so the chairman can move on from the topic, but you're well over your way there, uninformed to what you're going to be hit with once you halt.

Tycoons like them usually don't need back-checking. You know how to deal with ill-willed imbeciles that only use their estate as a weapon. Their bodies and brains have passed prime an eternity ago. Left behind are only their numbed minds that seek shelter in lust, ecstasy and aphrodisia because nothing else excites them anymore. They’re what you probably would have been if you hadn’t spent your teens brewing tea and listening to the leaves rustle, not experiencing all euphoria and more at a too early age– they’re washed out, just swimming in money they haven't worked a day for, are lazy, weary sloths.

However, opposed to the cloudiness in their class that's only getting more foggier through the many years of monopoly, these two men that are waiting in front of you, and you understand why your lungs are pinging now, they are potent.

Money is power, but twist it around and there is them, with that; a certain force that the rich ooze out by just acting and looking a certain way, and oh, Y/N, how they are, how they are looking at you right now, best believe you have to hold onto your strength like it's a small purse.

'Youngsters', he said— 'they bite', he said.

They have been rarely reacting to the chairman’s words, notwithstanding being the ones to be the most respectful in this meeting for their young age, just looking at each other with unamused eyes. Even the director who is older than the chairman lets out his best holler every time, but these two have not laughed once at his jokes, not the slightest chuckle has left their mouths to flatter or satisfy the chairman.

Interesting.

Both black-haired, the one you get to first has his mane gelled back, a cigarette hanging out his scarred mouth, as you approach his seat with your cart walking carefully practiced steps. His white shirt is opened up to where chains, most importantly a silver cross, hang from his collarbones to his chest that’s covered with scars and scratches you can’t quite identify how they got there. This man looks gigantic, muscular, dangerous. Shoulders terrifyingly broad popping out his black vest, he sits on his seat with widened legs, thighs flattened in his also black pants, fastened by a leather belt, and with his white sleeves pulled back to his elbows, his slightly tanned forearms only appear more huge after the rather average-looking wristwatch catches your eye, just when you stop with your cart in front of him.

“That old geezer just can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?”, he chuckles, the Gyeongsang-provincial dialect rolling so naturally off his tongue. Everyone else in the room has been faking their speech to cosplay a charm they didn’t possess, but even the slight lisp and lull from the drunkenness are not hiding how deeply masculine and sincere this man’s voice sounds. It’s a mixture of the sarcasm you've gotten used to by now, but also a brashness that the older men lack, and you’re a bit embarrassed to say it’s working you up a bit. "Empty carts rattle loudest, I say."

A wintry breeze goes through your breast and you feel your eyebrows flinch. You haven't heard that grandmotherly expression in so long, that it does feel somehow refreshing to reconcile with it, but maybe the whisk you sense shouldn’t feel as comforting given the way the man is looking up to you brazenly with a bit of atrocity in his appearance. He is far away from the serene sketch you drew to save the vision as you left the village, he is what you felt when you took your first train, asphyxiated by the big masses of people who you would never see again— an unhomely, yet intimate feeling of... adventure.

He glances through you smoking his cigarette with no hands attached, and it moves at the corner of his lip as he talks. Wait, cigarette? Missy, did you forget to bring him a cigar?

"Let's see when he runs out of words."

“It’s alright, sir,” you answer, suppressing a slight chuckle because yes, you too have been wishing the chairman would finally shut the fuck up, but haven't expected anyone to say it out loud that boldly. You watch the male in front of you take out the slim roll from his mouth with his thick fingers that are covered with silver rings that all look different and not matching each other, blowing out the smoke whilst maintaining eye contact with you. “If you require, I can bring you a cigar, sir," you say, but he waves his hand to brush off your offer.

“Ah, they give me bad breath.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please," the man progresses instantaneously, scratching over the vertical scar at his lip-corner with his thumb, his ciggy continues to burn, "Do be so kind and give brother his ice," then smiles, "he needs to preserve his cold head.”

“You are one to talk about keeping mouths shut,” the ‘brother’ answers, voice velvety and adequate despite dissing the man that’s sunken unmannerly into his seat, while he, on the other hand, is sitting up straight, his black suit buttoned up, tie set cleanly under his ironed pearl-white collars, elegantly decorated by a golden pin. A Greek "π" is chiseled into it, and you recognize it so well for you’ve seen it written all over the tall buildings you drove by on your way here. His hair is combed evenly to the sides and the more you look at him, he’s just— wow, flawless, prestigious, expensive. Everything about him is crystal clear; his rich voice, his unblemished skin, his eyes, oh god, you just noticed those eyes, how does such a shameful man have such pure eyes?

Orbs— and they're not innocent as much as you can't say they're not guilty— are looking at you with a defiance that is suffocating, as if you ought to do everything perfectly, not miss a single twitch of his eyebrows to understand whether he's enjoying or disapproving of the situation.

Well, is he enjoying you or disapproving of the way you're listening to his partner's order to refill his ice?

Huh. No fucking idea. He probably doesn't, but you must do it still— must still serve.

It feels irrationally sheep-headed, but hey, being a sheep is your job, is it not? Being in this herd is keeping you alive, and even in this situation, where you are following the orders of the blackest of sheep, no, wolves that can't be covered by any fluffy wool— you must mow your best.

"Ohh, brother, it's been a while since I heard you talk! Feels lonely droppin' all the good sayings by myself."

You’re serving Choi San and CEO of PARA-conglomerate, headman Park Seonghwa.

Sat right across the chairman, the percentage this couple holds of his company-share is more than most of the attending seniors combined, which makes them stand at the top of the guest-list. You couldn’t have missed their names, even if you’ve made the attempt to, and the other information you’re getting is just your co-workers whispering hurried words to each other, and it seems to you that you may be more in need of them than ever.

You already eavesdropped on them a little, and to be honest, you didn’t need any real confirmation that everyone in this room was unlawful and corrupt, but it is good to know you really don’t have to feel guilty stashing those bankrolls into your purse.

The man that is licking the tail of his scar at his lip, rolling his neck, clicking with his mouth and tapping his fingers onto the table, he is rumored to be the boss of the Choi-Clan, the infamous ‘Mad Dog of Namhae’, whose face had been unknown. The chairman has made a drunken joke about allegedly trying to sell him off to the government— “everybody act like you don’t know, okay?”— and nobody had taken him seriously, but once the supposed mafiaboss had entered the room, an hour later than everyone else, and sat down comfortably like nothing was strange about his heavy breath and slightly purple knuckles, nobody dared to say something else.

If you’d heard beforehand that you would be meeting a CEO and a mafiaboss today, you don’t know if you would have acted any differently. Thinking, here comes the chairman, his jesters, the mafia-guy, the chaebol; ah, all the motherfuckers aligned, let’s get to work, shall we? 

But this does challenge you a bit, indeed. If they just weren’t so young and intimidatingly good-looking, fuck, you could have treated them in the same cookie-cutter way you’d been at perfectly.

Maybe a bit of change-up won’t hurt, you were starting to get a bit too irritated anyway.

"Control yourself."

“You wanna see him dead too, brother,” the smoking male sneers— you’ll call him ‘Mr. Choi’ for now— pointing at his companion to accuse him of being a yawner, his cigarette stuck between his fingers.

Headman Park smirks with a short twitch of his lips that makes you think you just imagined it, but none of his extremities has moved since you came here: Every single action he takes seems so... calculated, thought through, measured, planned out. He is the only one to have brought a briefcase to the dinner, and looks a little bit out of place with his sober expressions which seem to you as if he was observing the whole room in its possible entirety, not leaving out a corner in his sight uncovered.

"Want," he parrots, face dropped to a neutral visage, highlighting the only word that seems to be bothering the CEO regarding his vis-à-vis' statement, eyes darting down  to Mr. Choi having his fingertips pointed towards him.

"Don't you become pushy with the words now, brother," the mafiaboss teases him, and tugs his sleeves up to his elbows again, eyeing you up and down while you're passing him with your cart. You discern his interest in the pockets of your skirt, or what is there underneath, instantly, but before you can think that the man may be just the same as the others, he cracks his knuckles. “Old geezer might die on his own at this point, look at how he's smoking his raisin-lungs away."

"Poetic."

So much for hearing government and company secrets, here are these two joking about the chairman’s death. You need the chairman a little bit longer if you want to earn money, but the idea of him dying soon isn’t too bothersome.

"You gotta get used to my Korean way of speaking, brother! Then we can communicate correctly!”

With your ears sharpened, but your face presenting unconcerned, you devote yourself to headman Park to refill his bucket, ice cubes jangling down the iron jar, whilst Mr. Choi stretches his arms behind his head, raising an eyebrow towards his elder who isn't hearing him out.

“Thank you,” headman Park says, very briefly and precisely. The tong you put in the bucket for him to use almost tips, and you don’t know whether he does it on purpose for he’s been frozen still all during the dinner, but with his reflexes, he prevents it from falling before you can, but if that wasn't surprising enough, he grazes your skin while returning.

Soft, uncalloused; not a single ounce of labor roughed up these hands, it seems. They tickled you featherly, and right now, you are looking for some type of confirmation in those black spheres of his to know that you're allowed to exhale and react to his touch, because you gasped slightly and have held your breath ever since.

Nothing. You are the first one to look— no, shy away from his stare, getting your hands in front of your abdomen again, your fingers searching for each other, fiddling around by themselves without your knowledge. 

Mr. Choi lets his wrist-watched hand fall between his lap, neck tilted slightly to the back, licking over his canine tooth with a grin, and it appears to you that he's either noticed his associate's small gesture or how headman Park is still staring at you. “You wanna do something, don’t you, brother?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Mr. Choi shakes his head to irritate headman Park and make him explain himself.

“This is not business.”

Headman Park glances down his whiskey, droplets of water have formed around the brim of the cold glass. It is untouched. 

"I see you aren’t enjoying the whiskey, would you like something else to drink, sir?", you ask, trying to finish your job and get away from here before you get ideas that don’t include money between your thighs.

"The Fillico, please," the male answers, not having glanced away from your eyes once to inspect your cart, where the black, long bottle, donning a crown and wings adorned with Swarovski-crystals, awaits you to be grabbed.

"A glass of cold Fillico Black King!", you exclaim, your surprise of the particularity that anyone would drink water at the chairman's dinner can’t be hidden, and then hum, "Coming right up, sir."

“You’re really something, brother,” Mr. Choi wheezes, taking the last pull of his cigarette, watching you fill up a new glass for his unrelated brother with the finest mineral that can be bought to-date, pricing around 6 Billion Won, or 4500 US Dollars per bottle. “Wouldn’t you say it’s difficult to not be smokin’ or drinkin’ in this business, Y/N?”

Sure, whatever ‘business’ a man like him is talking about. “Yes, sir." Wait, hold on, did Mr. Choi just say your name? 

“You don’t look too impressed,” the male grins, seeing how you’ve narrowed your eyes in confusion.

"Pardon me, I was just– how do you know my name, sir?”

Mr. Choi shrugs as if to say ‘I dunno’ and presses his cigarette out on the table. It sizzles out, like your head is also slowly deteriorating. He throws the bud into the CEO's ice-bucket— headman Park is not even minorly irritated by it— and then, with his ringed fingers, goes through his hair, setting it loose behind his head. He’s picking on you, and you surely feel picked out, that's all you can think. It's so unusual to be hearing your name, not because it hasn't been said during the dinner, but because—

"Y/N Y/L/N, a pretty name for a pretty servant like you, huh?"

Your heart somehow flutters. A stalwart man like him taking your name into his mouth is nothing you hear on the daily. Deep, manly. It's not flattering, no, it sounds wrong, feels so dangerous for a guy like him to be taking something so personal and turning it into his possession, like you're slowly going to lose yourself in the words he speaks in a lax manner. Your name is precious to you, and it just drops off his tongue like it's candy. Where on earth does a man like him get your full name from?

"Sir," you insist, dipping your fingertip under your fingernail, fidgeting.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya prefer that stupid name ‘missy’,” Mr. Choi chuckles and fetches headman Park’s full glass of whiskey, his dialect draping out his mouth.

“Or do you secretly enjoy it," he grins, and with his eyebrows raised, Mr. Choi drinks up his acquaintance's booze in one big gulp, letting the glass fall down on the table with a thump, breathing out, "missy?”

People drink whiskey neatly, you know that. The guests have been doing it all evening, but that's for two ounces. Headman Park had a glass full of the oak-colored sherry liquid with an uncommonly high alcohol percentage placed in front of him. A taunt from the chairman maybe, to subtly scorn them about their apparent boyhoodish inexperience, but Mr. Choi makes it look so adept: The strong alcohol flows down his throat smooth and speedy, even though he did misplace the rim by an inch.

There's whiskey dripping down his chin as he glances over to his side, smirking at his neighbor who's blinking frozen, as well as the other guests, who are seemingly just as irritated that the mafiaboss got you as flustered as you look like.

You’re left with your mouth slightly open, shotting down a glass of whiskey shouldn't have looked as barbarous as Mr. Choi made it appear. Like a striking attack, baring his claws, he growls out the herby aftertaste. "'Scuse me, 'got really thirsty there."

The mafiaboss goes over his lips with his tongue, watching your hand play with the seam of your skirt, where he knows a handkerchief is buried in your pocket.

“Aw, shit, I got wet,” he wails over-dramatically, looking down on himself and then again locking his eyes into yours.

“Wanna clean me up, baby?”

“Pardon?”

Much to your continued bafflement, Mr. Choi smiles, and as he sees you taking a second to confirm what he said, he continues talking to you like you’re a hooker.

“Don't like that one, Y/N?” Again, with the name! Where does he get the name?!

“Sir, how—“

“You have introduced yourself to us,” headman Park finally reveals in the high Seoul tongue, perchance by pity, and you inhale, a bit embarrassed that you didn’t come to think of it earlier. What is happening to you? Is it because you’re finally away from those sleazes, that you’re being so light-headed? Lack of training? Sexual attraction? God, that’s a rookie’s mistake, Y/N, think about them as targets, not objectives. The objective is to not end up in a bed with them, remember? That’s like, rule number one. Even though nobody told you about the Mafia while you were at training, that’s a valid argument.

Don't let your guard down, you’re in a room with the men of men, no maybe the men. The most influential men you could be meeting in Seoul right now, aside from how little is known about them.

Whether he's a real chaebol or not, PARA-CEO Park Seonghwa is definitely the nephew of good ol’ chairman over there, just leeching off his money even if today is the first time the man is visiting his distant uncle who is definitely a bit sour about the fact he took so long to connect with him. Money has its sources and sometimes, most of the time, it’s nepotism. There you go, the explanation of his wealth and why the male is so well-mannered sitting on his seat. He’s woven into the conglomerate-family, been made CEO to keep him that way and all in all, you could care less about him, if he just wasn’t the only person that was kind of nice to you. Just thinking about his eyes makes you a bit dizzy, but you can get that fixed by turning your eyes to the mafiaboss.

Mafia and chaebol don't usually associate, for reasons that are rather obvious. Mafia’s rule the underworld with the overworld’s laws, and the chaebol rule over what laws the overworld decides on, digging their hands into the government like it’s soot, planting and pulling crops wherever they can profit from it. Money.

It’s sickening every time you think about it. How many people in this room could pay for your whole life? No, how many can’t pay for your whole life and beyond? You can count them with one hand and they’re all wearing the same clothes as you. 

Money knows where it belongs; that’s a phrase you made up the day you were told about the crippling debt by the letter and the bank declining your card. It sounds similar to your monks' sayings of water's ever-flowing life, but if water returns, money drifts. It wanders across the citizens, but follows a direction it's always bound to end up. Just like today, with you getting bankrolls to graze the inner space of your legs, only to know it’s going to end up in the same fingers that gave it to you.

So, where do headman Park and Mr. Choi get a say in this? Do they get a say in this?

“I did introduce myself, how could I forget? I’m sorry, sir,” you admit and let out a laugh that is half intended to sound as nervous as it did, and half regrettably filled with authentic uneasiness.

Old chairman, what does he know? Have those teeth really ever sunk into flesh? You can’t play with your fate here, but by hook or crook they intrigue you so much. You haven’t expected guests that aren't ass-kissers of the chairman, and apparently your talent only goes so far. You have no idea what to do with them to satisfy them except letting out your real thoughts and you can’t do that, definitely not in front of the man.

But you feel so connected to them. The caution everyone has, it confuses you just as much you're amazed by it, and you want that, you want that kind of safety. Every guest here has money, but not every guest has their authority.

“It’s alright, everybody makes mistakes, baby,” Mr. Choi smirks and musters you again, rubbing the liquid away from the corner of his lip with his thumb and kissing the remaining alcohol away, savoring every droplet of whiskey, but also savoring you by keeping his thumb leaned into his opened mouth, eyes looking sultrily at you, you might as well just—

“Mistakes, San. Beware of them,” headman Park falls in and his companion finally sways his eyes away from you, hand backing down. “Talkative drunkard.“

“Brother,” Mr. Choi sighs and grabs the glass from his neighbor that's filled with ice cubes to murmur, “I’m not that drunk," swinging it around with concise flicks of his wrist to enunciate his words.

With the couple bantering, you think you can calm down. Maybe you were overreacting. Bootlicking some birdbrains is a way easier life than to follow these two.

"Hey, baby?”, but there's another call of the bird of prey.

“Yes, sir?”, you answer, fingers letting go of your skirt that has thrashed your skin by how you abused it. You don’t even know when you started to react to the name 'baby', but truth be told it’s better than ‘missy’ by miles. Being over here is better than being over there by miles, that is unchangeable.

“Could you get me clean? This is kinda sticky."

With two fingers, he grabs the collar of his shirt and flails it softly, ice clinking in his glass, as he shows you his indeed quite syrupy breast.

"Yes, sir."

You nod towards the crevice that is the space where his muscles meet, and before your eyes can get lost in the plump thews, you collect yourself so you can do what you were asked for; getting your hands on his body.

“Please.”

“Ahh, I liked you more when you were quiet, brother! I don’t wanna call you a party-pooper, but c'mon! It’s your plan, and I’m just— doin’ my part.”

Mr. Choi twists his upper body a bit so he’s still able to hold the empty glass behind your back, though it feels more caging in than it should, when you lean forwards to softly tap his skin with your handkerchief. His arm hovers next to your hip and his upper body is extended wide around you.

“What do you say, baby?”, the male asks, and you harrumph to take your mind elsewhere from how rock-hard the mafiaboss feels under your hand, how his cologne smells so rich and inviting, and how— “Wanna be bitten?”

“Pardon?”, you ask, not understanding the context of Mr. Choi’s question, but without fail grasping the intentions of it.

The male grins, and you’re unsure as to how he got his hand on the bottle of whiskey from your tray as quickly as he did, but it’s there, in the hand that’s across your hip, and from then on, everything you do seems risky. His bicep is curled around your thigh so he can fill himself another glass, and if you take a step back, your ass will be pushed against his arm, but if you step forward, you’ll land on top of him; a straining dilemma that only inflames your guts the more you think about it.

“San,” headman Park grumbles quietly, seeing you struggle to stand on your feet.

“Agh, come on, brother, 's all going well! Live a little for me, will ya? Watch me and follow,” Mr. Choi nags with a juvenile pout and takes a disgruntled sip from his drink, making your imaginations reality by pushing you with his forearm with no forewarning. You trip closer to him and his arms raise, as you have to find safety on his shoulders to not fall into his crotch.

“Oops, ‘scuse me, baby,” he grins, feline eyes glancing up to you, your bust in his view. The other men are grumbling, fussy, yammering— if they knew, they would have done that with you a long time ago!— and in your head, you don't know whether you should be doing this at the chairman's dinner and not somewhere in a stripclub or just, god, anywhere else.

“It’s okay, sir,” is what you answer, and the short silence would be the perfect opportunity to scuffle back to your original stance, but you saw his ever-growing, throbbing bulge in his black suit-pants and it is staring you down.

Everything about him is so big…

“Really, baby?”, Mr. Choi asks, eyebrows pushed together, lips formed into a pout, feigning an expression of worry.

“Yes, sir,” you say, the big question of 'what is the goal here?' unnerving you, but with the quick, harsh movement of his leg against the back of your knee, you're—

“Sir!”

Sat on his thigh, your butt is bouncing on the hard flesh, fingers dug into his shoulders deeper due to the shock, ribcage moving up and down as you’re breathing fast and anxiously. At this point, you’ve gathered the attention of many who are seemingly more excited about the situation than you are, silencing all around, while the chairman continues to crack drunk jokes on the other side.

Mr. Choi chuckles at your nervousness and puts his glass down. “Aww, look at you, baby,” he coos, his rough, calloused fingers trailing between the inner space of your thighs that’s pushed into his leg. “Need a little break?”

As you sit there— securing yourself on the table, feeling his hand sit between your legs, you become lighter with each passing second, tingles being sent down your abdomen. Could Mr. Choi please stop smirking like that? It’s going to make you lose your mind, lose every thought of what you were trying to achieve at this table tonight.

“The chairman doesn’t allow breaks, sir,” you murmur, trying to cling onto the last sense of service you have, “I have to stay here.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper for the CEO in front of you to become curious, but loud enough for the mafiaboss to scoff and massage his hand deeper into your flesh.

“Sir, I really—“, you try to protest, but Mr. Choi uses his other finger to signal you to come closer to his face. You do as you’re told, his warm breath hitting your ear after you lean backwards.

“Baby,” he cackles, and his lips touch your earlobe, the smell of the smoke fading out his mouth.

“I practically own that wimp,” and Mr. Choi lets out a chuckle before his voice lowers an octave, “Let me own you, too.”

His tongue grazes over your sensitive skin as if he was a snake trying to convince you of eating the strange fruit, and you shudder forwards in surprise, his growl still vibrating in your ears.

You should get yourself together— yeah, that sounds like a good idea, if it just wasn't for the fact that this is exactly how you've been presenting yourself the whole evening. You're cornered, and not only by him, but your actions and it's, oh, old man, it's something. It's something that broadens the playground that was set out in front of you, something that gives you more to play, no, more to be played with.

The other guests are gawking already, forgetting about their prejudices when it comes to the 'youngsters', just happy to be seeing their missy in action.

The mafiaboss sighs, breaking his whispering and speaking louder than before. “But if you cherish so much about that old geezer, he’ll be taken care of, no? Maybe even better than before, or am I wrong here, brother?”

He clicks with his mouth— is it a habit?— and looks at headman Park, who rolls his eyes, as if they’re sharing some secret you’re not a part of. But before you can fall into further confusion, your legs tighten around Mr. Choi’s wristwatch, as his thumb strokes the surface under your skirt one time, right across your cunt which has been heating up since the first time you saw the reflection of yourself in his silver cross. A pant leaves your mouth and you have to grind your ass over so you can somehow clench your legs together.

“You like that?”, Mr. Choi sneers, chuckling into your ear, as he continues to move his thick finger against your clit. "Of course you do. Let me hear more of those cute sounds, baby.”

You grab his bicep, heat crawling up your abdomen against his forearm, your crotch feeling more and more buzzed as the male works his fingertip into you. Nobody says anything, just murmuring insignificant sentences to keep up the chatty mood.

Headman Park in the meanwhile, crosses his arms, catching the attention of the mafiaboss.

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

Mr. Choi flashes an eye-smile and keeps groping your cunt, you melting more and more into his lap and under the heated gazes of the crowd. Your servant-colleagues don’t know what to do, or no, maybe they knew exactly that this would happen and think you deserve all of this shame, just in general not helping you escape the touch of the mafiaboss.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything,” headman Park says, looking indifferent, but his words don’t cross out the possibility that inside his pants, his cock isn’t growing too, how his arms are crossed, clenched around each other.

“Come on, baby,” Mr. Choi growls into your ear, “give that fucking bore a show, won’t you?”

You’re split open. He’s strong, oh gosh, so strong, taking not more than one push to grab you by your thigh and spread your legs, make you slip on his crotch, as he closes his knees together to support you from down under.

“San,” headman Park warns, but his mouth stays slightly open, tongue pressed against the surface of his upper teeth, suppressing a grin.

You flatten your back against Mr. Choi’s torso as an attempt to hide your face behind his neck, and breathe heavily against his freckled skin, the cold exterior of his pearly accessory grazes your chin.

“What?”, the male asks, taking his glass, his arm slithering under your armpit and his chin resting on your shoulder as he sips from it, not to forget the hand that is still pushed into the now moist fabric between your legs, moving in circular motion.

Headman Park doesn’t answer and folds his hands together, placing his elbows on the table, fingers touching his lower lip.

“Geez, brother, you should feel this cunt right now,” the mafiaboss wheezes, almost hiccuping from his excitement, “so fucking hot, you won’t believe.”

“Make her louder.”

Even Mr. Choi was surprised to hear that come out of the reserved CEO's mouth, and as he chuckles and takes the last sip from his whiskey, he puts down his glass once in for all to accept headman Park’s order.

With a slight lean forward, his free hand wraps around your neck and you gasp for air. Mr. Choi’s legs are spread so when you have to tuck in your pelvis, you can feel his bulge under your cunt. At this point, you don’t care for the piercing gazes anymore, and the chairman might as well give you a nice tip for the sight of you grinding your wet pussy into his biggest investor’s clothed cock. You’re such a master profiteer, Y/N, Jongho was right.

“Fuck, missy,” Mr. Choi grunts and he’s so frustrated he can’t take off more of your clothes, but it doesn’t prevent him from following the order when headman Park mutters, “grab her breasts.”

It is one shameless show.

You becoming needy and whiny on Choi San’s lap, the mafiaboss grinning, as CEO Park Seonghwa’s eyes are unmoving from your sullen, aroused expressions— it has persuaded the audience to want their own slice of fun, but even with hands wrapped around their no-use cocks, everybody in the room has their eyes sealed on the young servant whose only job was to refill some ice.

Mr. Choi can feel it; what a slut you are on top of him, how eagerly you’re grinding your cunt over his bulge, and how jealous the others are watching— and this includes all the blokes that are watching with cigars in their mouths, but also the servants that would have gladly taken your seat and not rub their hands over old, moist, wrinkly skin.

“Sir,” you whimper, as Mr. Choi knobs your breasts, his tough hands cupping each tit, just like headman Park commanded him.

Fuck, how he wishes to be able to see your face as well as well as headman Park does, but the sobby whines might as well do.

“So noisy on my cock,” Mr. Choi snarls, “you’re practically begging for attention, missy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you hiss and the mafiaboss inhales sharply, gasping, his cock jumping, very turned on by your sudden spunky tone. Bingo.

“Did you hear that, brother?”, he whales, tempting the headman to interact with him more as the main viewer of his performance, but the man to his friend is only raising an eyebrow. “Baby's got some zest in her. You like that, don’t you?”

Mr. Choi continues to coo headman Park into defeat, “You like ‘em feisty, brother. I know you, chief execution officer, sir. You wanna ram your cock into this little missy's pretty mouth, just admit it.”

Little missy's pretty mouth. "Say that again, shitbag," you hiss, but Mr. Choi grins and pries into your bust, working folds into your freshly-ironed shirt. "Listen, brother," he breathes, "It gets your cock fucking going, doesn't it?"

The mafiaboss chuckles and adds, so only you can hear it, "Definitely gets my cock going, baby."

Headman Park scans the room, and you can see how he shakes his head, and looks at Mr. Choi with a slight distaste. “You may leave soon.” 

“Really?”, Mr. Choi grins, beaming, grabbing your hips forcefully in the joy of it, and while the CEO’s words leave you misled, you sigh into the pressure of being pressed down deep into his muscled thigh, your cunt pulsating through his flesh.

“Change of plans.”

“Alright," he murmurs, just as offended as you are by his lack of reactions, but quickly catching up on his lust to hear, see, feel you more. "But not before I make this baby come."

“Punster,” headman Park jeers and it does occur to you that you’re hearing more of his soft voice than before, but when he looks at his wristwatch, you suppose you’re not doing well enough for him. Look at me, you rich-ass prude, you think and whine, being moved across Mr. Choi’s thigh by his own hands. Your clit feels hot, like it is seriously going to burn and fall off, but you, fuck, feel so good; the sounds just keep leaving your mouth, your high approaching very soon.

“How long were you thinking, brother?”, Mr. Choi asks and is nibbling at your neck, as he rams you over his thigh, fighting with the pace you're breathing wispy and digging your nails more and more into the glass-table until your fingertips turn white.

"Five.”

“Five? Make it ten.”

“You only last ten?”

“You can be such a bully, brother,” Mr. Choi fleers, and you have no fucking idea what they’re talking about, since you are feeling your orgasm coming in less than a minute, stars appearing in front of your eyes. “Make it ten.”

The male takes note of how you're bucking in your pelvis and uses his canine teeth to make your neck flame on, his hand placed roughly around your throat, as you become more sensitive to every move. "Sir," you whisper, a knot forming in your stomach.

Your clit is begging you for mercy at this point, demanding you to get the clothes off your legs so your slick has some way to escape, but you're drenching Mr. Choi's suit-pants in your wetness with stuttered heaving, ready to moan loudly in any second now if you could just find that one fucking spot—

"Are you gonna cum, baby? Right in front of everyone?", he murmurs against your neck and you nod repeatedly, raving your clothed clit on his thick, pillowy muscle, desperately chasing your high. "Come on," he snickers, "Show them what kind of slut missy is, huh? Such a good fucking slut for us, aren't you?"

"Yesyesyes," you whine, not caring for anything than your release, and Mr. Choi is being so kind as to continue breathing heavily into your ear to make you melt into bliss, but nothing gets you on more than the gentle smile that headman Park is sending your way, head slightly tilted to the back— is he nodding? Is he finally approving? Oh, fuck, you think, and you're doing the best job darting your hips non-stop to continue feeling your cunt be stroked by Mr. Choi's flesh, pursuing the CEO's praising acknowledgment. "Good fucking slut on my lap," the mafiaboss cackles, "come for daddy."

"You fucking weirdo," you falter, not wanting to call him "I'm never gonna call you—

Mmmuh!" Mr. Choi grabs you by your hair and tugs it harshly, making your back arch and your head rotate to his side. In the open mouth, his tongue plunges into your throat, the taste of woody herbs and bitter alcohol are flooding your tastebuds. Smearing all of your lipstick, his mouth is pressed against yours like he's sealing yours shut. You convulse your lower body in surprise of the sudden act and holy shit, get that one spot over your clit that's also stroking your gaping entrance, your body releasing all of its heat into one blaring, roaring zap, with your eyes rolling back your head, your stirred voice screaming, "FUCK!"

There is a gasp heard through the dining hall and you're not sure whether it was the chairman, a servant, or headman Park in front of you, but as you are spasming on Mr. Choi's thigh and your back arches to his chest, you feel like the world is expanding on you, peeping, intrusive onlookers cramming out their money to thank you for the show they got, white trickling through the linen of their underwear. 

Coming down from your high, weakened and all the while more aroused by the mafiaboss whispering the words "good girl" into your ear, you try to open your eyelids to catch headman Park putting on some black leather-gloves he got from his briefcase, muttering something under his breath to the mafiaboss.

“Go."

What the fuck?

Mr. Choi hooks his arm under your legs while he re-applies his lips to yours, and lifts you up like the pretty princess you are to most of the gawkers that don't stop watching, when he stands up.

Everybody has their eyes on the kiss the mafiaboss and servant missy are sharing, but headman Park doesn’t even look at you, when his partner starts carrying you to the elevator that's waiting for you at the wall about in the middle of the dining table, and just retrieves his open briefcase from the floor. Has he had enough of you already?

“Where are we—“, you breathe, but Mr. Choi kisses you silent, tongue forcing its entry, preventing you from figuring out what's happening, after the mafiaboss puts you down in front of the door and pushes you against the frame roughly. Cheering and hooting encourages him to continue rubbing his thumb over your skin as the other ringed fingers are holding your thigh, and you're pressed against his leg, virtually fenced in by Mr. Choi while he pushes the button for the lift to come.

His eyes are squinting to the side while he works his lips against you, in a way confirming that all of the guests (except the CEO) are begrudgingly anticipating the next actions of the mafiaboss, not caring how the headman is slowly pushing his seat away from the table to get more leg-space, which you seem to be the only person noticing it.

The golden door opens with a bell dinging the elevator’s arrival, and Mr. Choi grabs you by your ass, leading the way inside it. You can't see it correctly with your eyes closed, can only feel his big arms push into your frame, but he even makes for a show-like exit, burlesquely saluting the audience with two fingers, clicking with his mouth. It must really be a habit, you think, and giggle into the kiss.

The men attempt to throw bankrolls into your space and some succeed, some don't, but while you're glad your plan worked out, you aren't too sure what you've just done with, or for the mafiaboss.

Your heated kiss continues and because you want to feel him, you unbutton his shirt that doesn’t need that much working, three buttons being pushed open by your jellylike hands. Before you can unclothe him though, Mr. Choi pushes his arm against the mirror next to your head, stopping you to take a look at his wristwatch. He strokes his hair to the back with the other hand, revealing some of his meaty abs, and once he’s reached the backside of his head, he slides his fingers down his neck and around his Adam's apple to scratch it, announcing, “Ten minutes on the clock. Shit, brother's dick must be fucking exploding in his pants right now."

“Sir?”, you ask, overwhelmed by the words that are not making sense in your head, but also distracted by his hand that’s around your tie.

“Given he really could've finished in five but,” he yanks you towards his face. “I wanted to have you a bit more for myself, missy.”

He smiles, very arrogantly like the patronizing fuck he is, like he knows how strong he is, what a dominating aura he possesses, but at this point, in between the mirrors and on this black, marbled floor, you are not at the chairman’s dinner anymore, aren’t a servant anymore– you aren’t bound to any authority, are you?

“If you fucking call me ‘missy’ again, I’ll bite your fucking dick off.”

Except for the moment that you’re talking to him, a mafiaboss, whose breast is marked by— and you can see it very clearly now for it fits perfectly into yours— hands that have shared the same, if not a similar experience with you.

“How’d you know I was into biting, baby?”

And holy fuck, his back looks even crazier.

“God, sir,” you breathe out in awe and a little bit of fear. You can count the lines of red scratches on his back and as you finally let his shirt fall from his shoulders, the reflection of his muscles, how they relax under your touch. You become starstruck. Everything about him is so scarring, but fuck, how it attracts you, the wildness, the savagery— there’s something so free about him.

"What, baby? You like what you're seeing? How naughty..."

Ten minutes aren’t a lot, but Mr. Choi makes his best attempt to hurry over the trivial parts of fucking you. He steps closer, your ass hitting the handrail, legs crossing together, and your buttons pop in one rip, as his two hands rupture your blouse open. He lets his shirt drop to the floor, all the while his lips clash against the nook of your neck, making you sigh under the luminous lights of the elevator and grab his neck. You’re getting hazy, horny; damn, it’s been so long you’ve had a good fuck. Satisfactory sex is another luxury you were postponing for later.

With his lips sewn on your shoulder, kissing and forcing his tongue against a spot he deems especially tasty, the half-naked male unzips your skirt to finally reveal the black pantyhose that looks soaked in your slick. After he chuckles at the sight of it, Mr. Choi licks over his lips and cups your jaw with his hand, drawing a trail of insatiable kisses across your skin.

“Still wanna bite my dick off?”, he asks with a sly smirk, breathy, having caught your aroused look locked on his silver chains, his jacked upper body inviting you to get your mouth in there until it’s molded around your teeth.

“Come on, baby,” the male provokes you, “You think I’m gonna fuck you just like this? Think I’m gonna ram myself inside your cute fucking cunt ‘cause I’m such a big scary fucking man?”

You inhale sharply. “N- no, I…”, you breathe out, letting your tongue run over your teeth.

“Aw, baby, am I making you shy?”, Mr. Choi hoots, “I didn’t think you were a shy one. You were pretty noisy on my thigh for your cunt, weren’t you? Getting all the sounds out for brother to hear them… You really served a show there, baby.”

Your mouth only lets out stammered gibberish– you have never learnt how to talk dirty, but Mr. Choi uses your opened lips to ram his tongue into it again anyway, and you're almost proud to say you've gotten used to it.

He breathes rashly through his nose, and he tastes less of bourbon but more of dulcet desire, mixed in with the red of your lipstick sitting on his lip. Your knee strokes his erection while he gets his hands behind your back to get your bra off, lips clashing and raving against each other. “Letting your body talk for you?”, Mr. Choi husks, panting at having his overstrained cock touched. He relieves you from the pressure around the bust and continues to ramble. "I knew I could have a lot of fun with you the second I laid my eyes on you.” You pant and reunite your lips with his. "Little missy, such a whore for the rich."

He’s overconfident he’s seeing right through you, it infuriates you. Mr. Choi massages his hands into your breasts, the cold rings grazing sharply into your warm flesh, and as your knee is still between his crotch, you huff. You can be a whore for the rich when you’re earning money, but right now, you’re doing things for your own pleasure.

“Are you going to have a lot of fun with me?”, you sing-song in a high-pitched female voice to the mafiaboss that’s immediately taken aback, and you know the word 'missy' is on top of his tongue again, when you interrupt him with a quick jab of your knee into his groin. "Shit-eating fat-cat."

Mr. Choi grunts, head tilting down. His feline eyes meet your foxy ones, and while you weren't preparing for a staredown, the mafiaboss smirks and bites his lip. 

He has a lot to say, you can see it. There’s something glimmering under the lust-drunken layer behind his eyes, and it’s deep, goes deeper, but for some reason, the mafiaboss, who just so despicably couldn’t hold his mouth, doesn’t let out the words that’s crossing his mind.

“Sir–” 

Wrong deduction.

Mr. Choi scowls in laughter, and you guess he meant to joke with you, but he means to play with you much more, when he, once again, lifts you up, by your waist this time, and balances you on the handrail.

Resting his forearm on your thighs to stabilize you, Mr. Choi digs in his pocket to fetch his cigarette box, looking at himself through the mirror and shaking some strands out of his face. "Shit-eating fat-cat," he repeats with a lisp, pulling out one of the slim rolls with the corner of his mouth, and he continues to chuckle, as he glances at you through his eyelashes, "you should've said that to the old geezer when you had the chance to, baby."

"The chairman?"

No answer. Mr. Choi lights his cigarette with a zippo, and keeps it lit in his mouth, as he, with no forewarning, tears open your pantyhose from your crotch with both of his hands, spreading your legs wide. You have to get your hands around his head to be able to keep yourself on the handrail.

“Why do you look so scared? Think I’m gonna fuck you?”, he lisps. “I’m just taking a good look, baby. What a pretty cunt you got there, baby.”

You gulp. Mr. Choi slides his index finger across your heated folds through the fabric and your cunt clenches together, wanting to be filled up. “Sir,” you sigh, and the mafiaboss pulls in smoke from his cig, raising an eyebrow.

“What, baby? ‘You need something?”, he asks, “You’re not a fucking servant anymore, or do you need to be ordered around, missy?”

You try to look angry, but Mr. Choi only pouts and presses his finger through your panties, soaking them in your slick that’s gathered at your entrance. “Desperate to please the money-man? So wet for him…”

“Fuck you,” you mewl, but Mr. Choi knows what he’s doing when he thumbs your clit and exhales smoke into your face, hiding his face for a short second which gives you confidence. “I need you… to fuck me.”

“What did you say, baby? I couldn’t hear.”

“Please, sir, just… fuck me, please…”

“Louder.”

“God! Just fuck me! Didn’t you say we have ten minutes? Make them fucking count!”

“There we go, baby. My slutty little missy. Oh, baby, you’re growing on me, brother’s gonna hate that.” 

You huff and Mr. Choi slides your panties off your legs, taking a short glimpse at his wristwatch. “Damn, ten’s really a short time.”

How many minutes have passed? Ten already? You know you said it, but you mentioned it only because it made sense, if you’re honest, you have no clue what the time is worth for. Aren't these the men who have time for gold?

The biting smell of tobacco enters your nose, making you cough out loud. Is smoking even allowed in the elevator? Wait, wait, wait, no, maybe you should worry about other things, for example what you're going to do when those ten minutes are over, when all of this is over. They clearly have some type of plan and thing they are carrying out right now, but you don’t know how much you’re invited in there. 

Mr. Choi finishes his quick break, inhaling one last puff and keeping his cig between his lips again, and his hands unbuckle his belt in silence, while you contemplate.

Clanking, ruttling, and steps begin to thump behind the door— have any of you two even pressed a button? The mafiaboss looks concentrated, fixed on your cunt, taking out his throbbing, panging cock out his underwear, stroking it a few times to god, fuck, finally get to touch it after having been dry-humped hot.

Squelching, huffing, and voices echo through the floor— is that the chairman you hear? You can only yelp, when Mr. Choi drags off your panties and slathering his thick fingers across your folds in one, then penetrating with another forceful movement.

"Fuck!", you hiss out, grabbing the handrail next to your hips, trying to balance yourself on it still. The mafiaboss snickers into your ear, and tours through your cunt, all the while it appears that all hell is breaking loose outside.

BANG!

"Sir, what—!"

"Shhh, baby," Mr. Choi hushes you, and takes out his cig with the fingers that are now glistening with your wetness, placing it on top of his lips vertically to the scar that is accompanying his smug smirk.

BANG!

"You got nothin' to worry 'bout, baby," he lulls, "we're just eatin' the pheasant and the egg here," and exhales smoke into your face out his mouth-hole, which distracts you from the third, fourth—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another proverb, pheasant and the egg— 'two birds with one stone'. Mr. Choi unfolds his hand as if he was counting the minutes, or the shots— wait, yes, shots! Fuck, those are gun-shots, right? You've never heard something so loud ever in your life, where does someone get guns from in South Korea? What even would they need guns for? Why would they use them? What the fuck is happening outside?!

"Oh, fuck!", you moan out, before fear and realization can crawl up your scalp and take away your lusting for the male, Mr. Choi has jerked his hip up, his cock gliding into you smoothly as if your cunt was made for him, the length and girth perfectly curling inside. Your back arches, at least as far as you can arch it, and he grins bemusedly at your jolted reaction.

BANG!

With every blast that follows, Mr. Choi is thrusting into you, first slowly, but then adding more speed and vigor as he goes, or as the blasting goes, making you shakily watch yourself be wrecked by the broad man through the reflection on the other side, your legs dangling with his rough movement.

You don't know how he's fucking you through your tightness, because with each ducking of his hips it feels like your inner walls are expanding more and ungodly more, as if he was piercing you in half.

Small puffs of smoke leave Mr. Choi's mouth each time he pants out raspy "oh baby"s and loud claps of him slapping your ass overtone the screaming, scrambling noises outside, as you two work your lower bodies against and into each other, growing more passionate, throbbing feverishly.

"Fuck, baby," Mr. Choi hisses, cigarette tilting in his mouth, as his face frowns together. "So fucking good for daddy, aren't you? So fucking tight and wet, such a good fucking girl—"

The screams outside are dying down, but the mafiaboss and you are getting louder, breathier, lustier; with your head falling backwards, hitting the mirror, the twisting feeling of fear and the ecstasy to be bouncing on Mr. Choi's big cock mix up like one hellish drink, boiling and churning inside of you.

Smashing both his hands on each of you ass-cheeks to dig his fingers into them and get more stability to ram into you so fast, and oh boy, it's so fucking fast, you're going to spiral— Mr. Choi sputters, "Are you gonna come? Are you going to come for daddy, baby? Greedy baby gonna take daddy's huge fucking load?"

The male is unraveling, his once low, stable voice turning into a whiny, hoarse, cracked mess just like you, practically urging, begging you to finally take the name ‘daddy’ into your mouth.

"Come on baby, say it for me, huh? Feels good to be my slut?", he disentangles, "Be a good slut for daddy, baby."

"I'm not gonna call you— that, fuckhead!", you moan, though your insides are curdling together to finally be released, the knot tightening with each drop of sweat that is forming on your boiling face.

"Really? Think you can afford to misbehave, baby?", Mr. Choi snickers and spits his cig on the floor, your ass being handled at an insane speed, his cock slipping in and out of you with rough ease. He takes it upon himself to dig his teeth into the nook of your neck, biting you heftily, your pulse knocking against your throat, as you feel his cock run in and out of your cunt. Your head goes light and dazed, but before you can gasp out your high from being fucked, bitten, sent to bliss, the male sinks you deep into his cock fully, it does not give you the last thrust you would need to—

"Fuckfuckfuck, I'm gonna cum," you whimper, needing to tremble, but unable to move because his hands are restricting you from any movement, and you continue to bring out a string of weak "pleasepleaseplease" that bounces back from the mafiaboss, who is raising an eyebrow, waiting for the magic word to be spoken out of your wet lips. Tears have formed at the corner of your eye and he thumbs it away, grinning coyly.

"Fuck you, I'mnotgonna fucking, ugh—!", you sob, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Aww, you wanna hate daddy so bad, don’t you?”

“Fuuuck you!” Whines leave your mouth, wanting to cum, wanting to move, wanting for Mr. Choi to continue fucking into you and not wipe away your tears.

“Just say you love me, baby,” he heaves and returns his hand to your hip.

Thrusting into you once with a clap against your groin, to make your cunt clench around him, and then twice with the last blood-curdling BANG! from outside, his cock is deep inside you. He feels you tighten, pulsate, craving to be released, but Mr. Choi will not move again to your liking until you finally let go of yourself, which riles you up with no hope.

"F— Fuuuck, okay!", you scream out, annoyed, angry, wanting to fucking cum; "Daddy!", you sob and Mr. Choi smirks, instantly getting to work to toast the adieu of your pride. Thumb on your clit, he circles around your sensitive bud to double the tension you feel through all of your body, while you gutter, "fuck me, daddy, please, make me cum, please, daddy, please—"

He laughs, no, howls— elated, animated, drunk, and then, with his strong, buff fucking arms, pounds you into his cock like a punching bag, your ass hitting his pelvis so many times until you have to use his gelled hair as a last resort to hold yourself up and not push yourself from the handrail with your head against the mirror, but he holds you, holds you steadily in his grip.

"Good god, good fucking missy, such a good fucking slut for me, cum all over my cock–   all over my fucking cock, baby," Mr. Choi grunts, and the string that was keeping you balanced snaps, your orgasm hitting you like that makes your insides tighten around the mafiaboss and his throbbing girth, your whole body being flushed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure which you drink up whole. His cockhead rubs against your sweetspot, you riding out the high while seeing nothing but bliss.

"Holy fuck," you breathe, and your fingers grip into the thick skin of his back, and with Mr. Choi's hips not stopping to hit your pelvis, there are additional, injuring, deep red marks on there with every thrust. You’re scratching him like a beast wanting to tear up its prey, but the beast is fucking into you like there’s no tomorrow. His cock does not stop grazing against your deepest spot, tears rolling down your heated cheek, and your mouth is unable to get out the words you want it to when you get the feeling that he's going to cum soon.

"O- out," you warn him, but the mafiaboss makes a disappointed face, “I– I really can’t afford a child, p-please pull out–!”

He draws his eyebrows in, scoffs and looks you deep in the eyes, his muscular body tucked in, murmuring, rambling out his whiskey-painted throat, “Is that really your only problem, baby? That you don’t have enough money?” His forehead leans against yours and your eyelids flutter open– you are being a mitt around his dick– and he pouts in pity, his iron cross hanging from his chest, as he talks to you.

Mr. Choi gets his hand flat on your lower belly and presses down on it, feeling himself bulge inside you. He moves his hips slowly, his cockhead dragging across your sweetspot, while he gutters, “you’d look so sexy as a mother, don’t you think, baby? With the tummy and all.”

“S- sir, please I–”

"Come on, do you think I don’t have enough money to pay for a fucking kid? God, how fucking annoying– I’m not that kind of man, baby,” Mr Choi growls, his voice vibrating against your cheek, as he charges his forehead deeper against yours, “I still got some honor.”

You shake your head, unsure whether there are pills for after in the pharmacies, or whether the mafiaboss will really be there to be with you as he promises, but Mr. Choi continues to beg in his low breathy, guttery voice. “Baby,” he rumbles, pressing even harder on your abdomen, your ass being pushed into the handrail that you’re sure it’s going to leave one red straight mark, and his cock is almost exploding from the edge, “Let me, no, let daddy cum into your tight cunt, baby, please.”

God, he wants you. He wants you so bad, doesn’t he?

"Y- you should see yourself," you chuckle, stroking over Mr. Choi's gelled hair, and his head tilts up a little bit as your fingers get tangled in his black locks, the white of his eyes making him look like a wild dog waiting for its treat. "F-fucking do it, you fucking slut."

"Fuck, baby," he laughs, out of breath, "You’re really a price."

Mr. Choi hammers his hips into you, until the stars in front of you all look like wishes falling from the sky. Both of you feel it, how his cock just feels so right, fits in like your cunt is a fucking glove which is full and getting even fuller.

"God, fuck," Mr. Choi grunts from the bottom of his throat, his hot cum lading into you, and it's like your lower body is melting with it, becoming heavier with every drop he's unloading inside.

"Take all of my fucking cum," he husks and your faces clash together for one finishing wild kiss. Mr. Choi sucks on your lower lip, as he fucks his ejaculation deeper and deeper into your hole with slow thrusts, until he bucks up his pelvis the last time and moans out a raspy, “perfect fucking missy with a perfect fucking cunt..."

Ding!

For a man that uses his mouth so sparingly, his tongue surely works wonders.

"Sir, are you—"

Headman Park has entered the elevator without a word, pulling off his leather gloves, and with Mr. Choi stepping away, he has all the place he requires to get on his knees and throw your leg over his shoulder, his wet and warm muscle delving into your throbbing cunt. You've been bereaved of the time to inspect what was behind or around him when the door closed, but maybe that's irrelevant anyways. What is relevant, is how impatient, but also how careful the CEO remains, and how he still tries his best to slowly sift his tongue into your folds, feeling every inch of your wetness. He’s been dying to do this.

"Fuck, sir!"

"Please," the CEO chuckles, hastily pulling the black leathery from his hands to put it back in his briefcase that he's been carrying, but he doesn't miss your cunt once, purling over your clit and glancing at you. "Call me Seonghwa, princess."

You could cum right here and there, just at the sight of this pretty man looking up to you, who has laid out his first name and put it into yours, scream it out loud until everyone hears what a princess you've been made of.

Princess. You knew his eyes were different, but you didn’t know they saw the world differently too. Oh, how you wish you could see more of his world.

"Aww, what? That's why you're still a foreigner in our country, brother! 'Can't be dropping our titles," Mr. Choi huffs and lights himself a second cigarette, filling the elevator with smoke and tobacco. How his breath really doesn't smell is questionable to you.

Just like you, the CEO, or how you're allowed to call him now— Seonghwa, ignores his partner's words, laps over your clit with his tongue, gently easing into your cunt with his clean fingers, and your soft sighs are like a reward for him, for whatever he's done outside.

"Respect, brother, 's all about respect..."

You tighten your thighs around Seonghwa's neck. The charcoal-haired has closed his eyes, sighing into the taste of you, and you are flawlessly overlooking the loud mafiaboss, just completely concentrating on the commitment the CEO is eating you out with. His head fits magically between your legs, he works his fingers so flawlessly into you, this must be fate— and if it's not, you're going to make it your future in any which way possible. You're falling. No, flying; never coming down.

"Seonghwa," you whine, and your hand glides over the hooked male's forehead, his hair feeling smooth under your touch as he presses his tongue slowly— in circular motion— against your clit to keep you on the high, but not in a way that would make you trip over.

"Mmf," the mafiaboss in front of you huffs, clearly attracted, enticed by the way you've exhaled the other male’s first name, scratching his temple with the fingers that are holding his cigarette.

"Whether you wanna call me San or 'daddy', baby," the scarred male, no, San, the fucker grins, "I'm gonna be hearing both either way."

"Fuck—", you moan out, having to take a breath because of how Seonghwa has curled his fingers into you with his tongue ready to shovel anything into his mouth that comes out, "you, fuckhead!"

The CEO is giggling a bit, finding your tone very amusing— and he tries to tell you this by looking up and slanting his eyes a friendly way, no, a way that you've never even conjured up the fantasy to perceive him, the cold-faced Park Seonghwa who hasn't drunk a drop of alcohol tonight. What pureness in a man...

"I liked 'fat-cat' better,” San snickers and goes through his hair that definitely needs combing, turning around and looking at himself through the mirror, though his eyes squint towards Seonghwa's reflection on the other side, now again lost in your cunt, taking off his jacket and folding it in half behind his back.

"Brother, you're eating my cum, by the way," the mafiaboss jabs, puffing out smoke while he's decidedly getting hard again in his trousers. San really can't hide his emotions on his face, can he? His lips are pursed, eyebrows slightly pulled in— how obvious. The man is jealous and doesn't want to admit it, you're sure of it.

"Shut up," you hiss, having become a bit comfortable with teasing the frustrated, outwitted mafiaboss. Ten minutes were definitely too little for him, but you've already rid his thigh, let him cum inside, and Seonghwa is simply too good with his tongue right now.

"Fuuuck," you whisper, and feel every drowsy twirl of his finger inside you, but it's slow, so slow, Seonghwa is swerving around every sponginess inside you, savoring the contraction of your inner space, and how your muscles tighten, when he licks over your clit, he enjoys this; enjoys you.

And so it continues, Park Seonghwa exploring every detail of your cunt as if he's a sommelier tasting the rarest of fluids, appreciating every drop that lands on his tongue, his fingers making sure that they don't go to waste.

"Shit," San comments, "I should've eaten her out, too."

The CEO is not cocky about it, about the way you are grabbing into his hair and squirming, how he has to slightly lift you up so you don't fall from your position. And then, when Seonghwa thinks your taste has perfectly coated his palate, speeds up.

"Fuck, sir," and the title slips out of you, like a habit you can't change for good when you feel so small. The CEO between your legs doesn't mind it though, at least doesn't say anything on it and just lets his fingers hit your sweet spot until there is a distinctive "Seonghwa" leaving sighed out your lips.

"I'm going to—", you announce, but the male has been long aware of it, preparing himself more access by bending his upper body to angle himself across your cunt, giving his partner a better view on how you glisten in arousal.

San in front of you is standing frozen, with his cigarette slowly burning out in his mouth, and you recompense the lack of his cock in your cunt by moaning louder, so your voice can vibrate around his erection. He grins and gets a tongue to his canine tooth, naked upper body still glowing in sweat, muscles shining, cock twitching every time he hears you breathe, and breathe more intensely, "make me cum, Seonghwa, please!"

"I knew you would taste delicious," Seonghwa murmurs, silently, rather for himself, and this must be how he sounds when he's drunk, because he is so high on your taste, "but this is ambrosial, princess."

You curl up your pelvis, and Seonghwa holds you by your hips, as his tongue picks up in speed, drawing out every word he hasn't spoken tonight on your labia, stamping them into your clit, all the while his fingers row in more and every last drop.

"C- coming~", you purr, and your eyes close down, your hands deep in Seonghwa's scalp, exhaling the weight of your worries, that flushes down into the man who seems to have none in his life, and he breathes into your hot cunt through his nose, not letting go of it until he's made sure that your hips tremble around his head. "P- please, f- fuck, fuck, feels so good—"

Pumping the remaining come into you, Seonghwa licks up your cunt and kisses your clit until you go completely flaccid, your arms giving in, but Seonghwa catches you by your hand, kissing your thigh with his swollen pink lips.

With your body relaxed, your ass feels a bite sore, having been prodded into the iron rail for so long. You grab into Seonghwa's hand and try to push yourself up, but ultimately fail at getting yourself into a more comfortable position.

"San, hold her."

"Huh?", he asks, "'Need something more snuggly, baby? Or what did you call her again, brother?"

"Princess," the CEO answers immediately and you have to suppress a girly giggle, as Seonghwa turns his head around, lips still pressed against your thigh. He presumably sends San an admonitory look to hurry up, and gets up from his knees.

The mafiaboss shrugs, not offended by being ordered around. He puts out the cigarette against the mirror and cracks his neck by rolling his head around, his thick neck dousing into your sight as he does so. He's so intimidating, you think, but he's on his way to coast those monster-arms behind your back, hands down to each of your hamstrings to, "up you go," pick you up like real royalty. The giggle escapes your mouth but you don't feel the slightest embarrassed nor do you have a reason to be. You are sunken deep into San’s cushiony arms— his muscles make for a great seat, and hovering, air hitting your hot cunt, as your legs spread for the CEO in front of you when you fall into the elbows. You yelp, but the giggles just keep coming, making San in the mirror in front of you wink at you, cackling, "you like that, princess?"

Seonghwa smiles, satisfied by your enjoyment of this position and approaches you once more. "I have yet to kiss you, Y/N," he says with his sweet voice, and his gentle hands find your chin and waist, your eyes blossoming open for him to stare into.

Even San shuts up now, and you suppose he is too taking part in the beauty that is the embrace of you and Seonghwa; two sets of lips, crazing each other, meeting for one flowery affair, breathing out small vapors of life. You can taste yourself, which means that Seonghwa is fully consumed by your aroma.

God, you think again, your cunt tingling at how Seonghwa tugs at his tie, pulling it side to side as he kisses you— the golden 'π'-pin clanks shrill to the floor— everything about Seonghwa is so...

Clean?

You are inhaling the mellow smell of his satiny skin, and the CEO unbuttons his shirt with proficient, skilfull flicks of his fingers. He is so handsome, handsomely pretty, and even when it’s drenched in your fluids, his skin shines on its own, like Seonghwa has a light shining within. Once you can see his bare chest and get lost on the smooth surface, your eyes dive down, admiring his slim, yet very muscular physique.

Seonghwa gets his tie and drags off his shirt by tugging at one sleeve with his hand, the white fabric revealing the rest of body with one clean pull that matches one of the curtains.

"W-", and you have to jump back with your head to get the full spectacle that's presented in front of you, exhaling in awe— "Wow.."

"Not so blank, our brother, is he?", San chuckles from behind of you and lowers his head to press his chin against your temple, surveying the same sight.

Two colossal, monstrous dragons, red and black, are colliding, looped, entangled all around Seonghwa's right arm, fighting for dominance on his skin. The raven hydra has its jaw wide open where Seonghwa looks to his shoulder with a rather shy smile once he sees your reaction, baring its teeth towards his heart, while the crimson dragon ends at the CEO's wrist, sitting on top of his pulse.

"Would you believe me it was brother's idea, baby?"

"As if," Seonghwa murmurs, folding his shirt into a square.

San chuckles again, re-shuffling himself and pressing your back close to his stomach, granting the back of your head to rest at his collarbone. "I asked her if she would believe, brother."

You watch the delicate lines, the elegant strokes of tint meeting on his skin, but while your first impression made you believe they carried a certain viciousness with their svelte bodies, the second sight presents you a different image of two forces maneuvering into each other as a reminder that they both co-exist as supreme. It's not one another they're reviling against, it's the bearer of the both who is threatened by their fangs. Their existence is a warning reminder, but also a sign of pride.

"I believe it's... beautiful."

“Aw, you’re so sweet, baby.”

You haven't seen many tattoos in your life, none in the mountains, and even in the city the only observable tattoos were those of the sleazy guys in alleys that wait when you're done with your job to gape at your uniform. They got tigers and other animals roaring on their bodies to hide the fact they don't have the fighting skills to keep up, but for Seonghwa, a CEO, to have this amount of ink under his skin is a commitment and to imagine he’s hiding that under his ironed shirt and black jacket, no, that you are seeing it right now, it’s… You’re overwrought, steamed up, aflame.

"Wanna touch it, baby?", San asks, and you nod eagerly. Seonghwa chuckles, “Go for it.”

You let your fingertip ghost over the dragons' scales, tailing their curvature. Goosebumps form on Seonghwa's arm and his hand finds its way to your head, stroking your cheek, as you meet the red beast's eyes.

The mafiaboss whispers, almost sentimentally, "No blood or tears."

Another expression, which proves to you that the tattoo was undoubtedly his idea, but you see it, the romance that is spoken from the male's skin, regardless of the little insight you have on both of them. Loyalty, reverence, creed, a belief and a duty, and before you know it, you want Seonghwa to enwrap you with his arms and never let you go, which he does.

His slender hand cloaks the left side of your head, and he pulls himself into a kiss, while he unbuckles his belt with his other hand.

You don't know how much you understand of this situation, no, you don't know how much you want to understand of this situation.

You've been on your own. That's all you ever had after you left home: Your body and soul, the windstorms of the mountains pushing you from the back to keep going, and you've lived your best life living for yourself that way, in bliss, in ignorance— in peace, but what is peace in a place where you can't move by yourself? In a world that’s maimed by the rich, and sure, it may be that you’ve chosen your path, but you were never walking a road that was yours, always trailing behind something.

Nameless, that’s what you thought you would need to be.

Your monks wanted to be called their title like everyone else, it would have been disrespectful to ask Lady Kim for hers which you now regret, and not even as a secret did your old man tell you his name, but you— you, Y/N, you have a name and you want to scream it, live it as loud as you can, hear it echo back with a volume that feels stronger when it rings back.

You could have settled on being acknowledged by your supervisor to earn some good money, but this is what you’re here for, aren’t you? Why you trusted your gut to stick to the scary men? Why you walked to them with confident steps, even when a nervous knot was forming together inside you? Did you go as what, an act of defiance? One of independence? To prove yourself that you were still standing on your own feet?

"Speaking of, brother..."

Yes, with no shame.

"You really enjoyed yourself back there, didn’t you?”, San asks. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

Seonghwa is kissing you down your breast, observing closely how you breathlessly react to his tongue twirling around your nipple.

"You left me no other chance," the older male hums, coating your circular buds with his saliva, bringing out your heavenly sighs every chance he gets, stroking himself to the sounds of your pleasure.

"Well, I would have made sure you still fucked her, brother."

“Sure,” Seonghwa lisps and positions his cockhead at your entrance. 

You try to grab San's shoulder behind you, as the male pushes himself inside, and your torso rotates to the side with your eyebrows pulling together, your cunt being spread apart.  “F-fuck,” you exhale, and Seonghwa kisses the corner of your lip to soothe you. Your cunt squelches around his cock and your hips roll by themselves, wanting to take more of his length.

"Shit, look at her go," the mafiaboss woos, "Fuck yourself out, brother."

"Think you’ll miss this?", Seonghwa snickers and it must be the first question he has asked today. “Y- yeah, you will!”, you snap, feeling eager to be acknowledged for how good your cunt wraps around his throbbing heat. 

“Oh, princess,” the CEO laughs, and your stomach drops because of how pretty his laughter sounds, and he caresses your cheek, only making your confusion and desire to finally uncover what the two men have obviously been keeping from you grow bigger. You don’t want to say it abruptly, but you three are naked, in a confined space, skins pressed against each other, so you believe you’re worth some type of explanation– or are you not?

“C- can you tell me what’s going to happen?”, you whine, and Seonghwa moves his hips, grabbing you by your waist to get his whole length. “Are you, fuck, going to leave me?”

“I dunno, brother, you call it,” San mutters. “It was your plan.”

“D- don’t!”

“It’s barely my plan anymore,” Seonghwa breathes, bucking his pelvis in, his cockhead being sucked in by your sensitive cunt.

“Don’t leave me!”

“You needed a distraction, brother, I got you one.”

“No,” Seonghwa chuckles, but in his heat, he kisses you and glances up at San while his tongue brushes against your lip. “But I’ll admit she saved us some jail-time, San.”

They continue talking over your pleas, and though you would have loved to ask a second time how the night was going to end, your brain has started to give into the pleasure once San folds your legs together, holding you by your hamstrings, giving Seonghwa an easier angle to fuck you senseless. 

“F- fu-huuck,” you breathe out, and your eyes are disappearing behind your molten, droopy eyelids, with Seonghwa cumming for the second time on your abdomen and cleaning it up with his handkerchief, and you don’t even know when it was, that San crammed out his cock   again, but you can definitely feel the difference of his girth, when he re-enters your used cunt, your legs shakily landing on the floor. They feel wobbly, your thighs having gone loose, and the mafiaboss has to hold you by your arms behind your back to support you.

“Can’t take it anymore, baby?”, San whispers into your ear, and his voice is low, very low, you don’t know how much time has passed since you could make out any of his words, but it feels like you’re back here, in the elevator, and Seonghwa is putting on his belt again.

“I c- can!”, you manage to whine out, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to return to your small apartment, not wanting these two to be gone from your life. “I can!”, you repeat yourself, when San lets out a mockful cackle. “You’re not going to fucking leave me here, San!”

“Who said anything about leaving you here, baby?”, he asks you, and he does mean his confusion, but the sarcastic undertone makes you desperate grow desperate. San frowns. “What did I tell you, baby?”

“You aren’t telling me shit, San!”, you sob, and his cock running through you prevents you from finding a braver voice, his two hands find your wrists to bind them together in his grip. “Aren’t you such a smartie,” he growls into your ear, hot air hitting your dissolving ear.

“Brother,” San calls out, and the addressed man is busy opening up his briefcase, getting on his knee. “I’m still waiting on you, y’know.”

“If you had stuck to the plan, th–” Seonghwa murmurs, but the mafiaboss falls into his word. “Then we would have fuckin’ send the bitch to prison and someone else would have him killed him, but there! You know I didn’t come with the fucking patience for that, brother! Geezer was getting on my fucking nerves.”

Killed?

“And don’t you talk back now,” San warns, “It was you who killed all of ‘em, so you figure out how you’re going to carry that one out.”

Killed?

“You already know how I’m going to carry this out.” Seonghwa smirks. “But you’re stopping me, San.”

“Augh, brother, you’re too sober for your own sake!” San’s cock is too deep in your cunt and your body is too much in his control for you to stop moaning like a bitch, but in your head, you’re puzzling together tonight’s happenings.

Expensive whiskey. Ice cubes. Ten minutes, gunshots, black leather gloves– “killed.”

Oh, Y/N.

“What did you do with the chairman, Seonghwa?”, you moan out, feeling how the mafiaboss is ramming himself into you at a sloppy, greedy pace, prolonging how much he can be inside you before he comes again, and you don’t know whether his heavy breathing can cover up the silence that it takes for the CEO to react to your question.

Seonghwa is still kneeled on the floor, when he rotates his head, smiling, his eyebrows pushed up. “What do you think I did?” His second question of the day.

“I- I,” you stutter, but San shakes his head, and interrupts you with his voice still loose from the alcohol, “you really don’t know how to keep up a good mood, brother!”, grabbing you by your chin and yanking your head up. “Lemme make my baby cum first!”

You can’t see Seonghwa anymore. You can barely see anything anymore, you’re counting your fifth or sixth orgasm of the night, cunt growing hotter with each time San thrusts into it, and with your breath being cut off, you slowly feel your arms lose their responsibility, tingling up from where your wrists are crossed behind your back. His cockhead is flaying against your g-spot and your thighs tremble at how used you’re being, eyes falling in, throat feeling tied up.

“S- San,” you manage to cough out, back arching for your final cry of pleasure, and San grins, letting go of your wrists, which makes you immediately fall to the front, finding safety against the mirror with both of your hands. He smacks his hands against your ass and lunges into you until your whole breast is pushed against the cold wall. 

“Come on, baby, come for me,” San roars, and you wail, tired, exhausted, feeling the orgasm drown you like another wave in the ocean of bliss you’ve been swimming in, whining out, “coming, coming for you, San!”

The mafiaboss presses himself against your back, his silver cross being imprinted into your neck, as he unloads himself, his last drops of hot cum overflowing out of you. “Fucking slut… So fucking good…”

He kisses your jaw repeatedly and looks at how tiredly closed your eyes are in the mirror, cooing “aww, baby.” San strokes away a strand of hair and gets himself off your body, pulling out. “You look like you need some sleep, baby.”

You are trying to catch your breath, grabbing the handrail to hold yourself up, as it sounds like San is putting on his shirt again. They’re gonna fucking leave you here, aren’t they? Leave you here in the elevator with the– with the fucking bankrolls on the floor of the fucking men you fucking– Oh god… Keep breathing, Y/N. Keep on breathing.

“I mean all I’m saying… you know… lobsters and crabs are friends, pal.”

What the fuck is he on again…

“You’re making this hard on yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything, just sayin’ that she just grew on me, that’s all.”

Your legs tremble, as you try straightening them to stand up and see what the two are scheming again, but as you turn your body around, ass against the handrail again, you hear a very unfamiliar clicking in front of your forehead area which is not coming out of San’s mouth.

“You’ve grown soft. That’s what you did.”

“Ahhh, fuck you, brother.”

“Pathetic.”

You see a hole, and it also doesn’t take you long to see Seonghwa ready to pull the trigger, the mafiaboss leaning into the corner of the elevator, arms crossed, looking at you with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, pressing the button that leads to the lobby.

The night is over.

“A- are you going to– oh my g-god, are you going to kill me…?”

“Yes, princess.”

Your heart is going to burst, you could puke out so many words right now, but you don’t know what to do. You don’t want to die, not when you felt so fucking alive– you– fuck, you should feel sorry that your coworkers that they didn’t deserve to go the same way as the asswipes did, because you’ve long realised that the bangs were their skulls being crushed by the bullets, but at the same time you couldn’t care any fucking less about them right now. You just have to survive, that was the only thing that mattered since the very beginning. This is about your life. Your precious fucking life.

“Ah…”

Your body is too weak to hyperventilate, but your brain is working overtime. Do you run? Attack them? No…

Seonghwa hasn’t moved an inch away from your face, and you take it upon yourself to raise your hand and slowly push the cold, black gun to the side, so you can look him in his eyes, but he forces it back there.

“Please don’t kill me… I can do so much for you! I– I,” you stutter, trying to gather all the knowledge your monks have taught you. “I– I’ll do anything! You– you saw me, didn’t you? I have– I’ve been told I have a talent for serving! I– I can do anything, please, I beg you, just…”

You fall to your knees, and they burn on the glassy floor, your hands folded in front of your abdomen. 

“Just please, let me live…”

You’re not greedy. You’ve only taken what you were given, and tonight, you’ve been given so much. Too much? No, it couldn’t be…

“Brother.”

There are tears flowing down your eyes, and you feel so sorry for yourself. You miss your old monk, and hope that you may be reincarnated to a butterfly that he can admire, just so that he can look at you with his adoring eyes again. So someone can want the best for you once in your life–

“Brother?”

So anyone can finally love you for once in your life.

next part coming soon... series masterlist | main masterlist

[jhuzen]

i’m not sure if you’re taking requests right now so feel free to ignore/delete this if not ! i wanted to request a piece on a jealous al haitham where reader starts fawning over how pretty kaveh is when they meet for the first time! this is mostly cuz that was my own reaction after seeing kaveh HAHA m!reader too please! thank you :]

reticent jealousy [m.reader]

i have emerged from my tomb of university things. and i sincerely thank you anon for giving me such a fun request! this is so fun to write considering that i’ve been ignoring haitham in anticipation for kaveh’s ass LMAO. it’s also a little longer than what i intended since i wanted to oil my gears in writing again, i hope you don’t mind hehe.

𖦹 alhaitham being jealous of mister nuisance roommate, reader forgets the concept of personal space

Ever the charming man you are, you never failed to entice the people you’ve surrounded yourself with. With your charismatic wit and sincerity, coupled with that good looks you’ve somehow acquired from your beloved parents, it was not rocket science to figure out why people were drawn to you like moths to an attractive flame. You constantly piqued the interests of each and every person in the vicinity. It was natural to be attracted to you, you were beyond mesmerizing.

So much that you even managed to capture Alhaitham’s interest. Meeting him at the Akademiya was nothing short of interesting. Your family sent you to study in Haravatat — coincidentally being under the same Darshan as the now infamous scribe. Though it was not your interest, you complied out of respect to your parents, staying in between being average and excelling with barely a half of your efforts.

Alhaitham, at first, thought you were an idiot — only to realize how much bigger of an idiot you are when he came to see just how well off you truly are in your studies with you coming in clean that your far better grades than most students was just a product of your thirty percent effort.

Despite your open expression of fondness to certain things (which, admittedly, had given you a disposition of an exuberant airhead), Alhaitham respected you as a colleague and had even given you some of his approval when you would open up to him about your true passion.

Much like how people appreciated the handsome masterpiece that is you, you yourself beheld the beauty of the world. You loved anything that was pleasing in the eyes, and your hands worked to capture them in your paintings. If one took a good look at your works, one could see the inherent romanticism that you displayed. Everything and everyone was beautiful in your eyes, and among the cold and tired and researchers under your Darshan, you were the shining beacon of sincerity.

Really, it wasn’t so hard to fall for you. And Alhaitham went in ahead and tripped, and fell right into your strong arms.

Though his pride served as a hindrance in professing his affections that were left cooped up inside him for the entirety of your years spent as scholars in Akademiya, your observant eyes and empathic attitude finally gave mercy and aided his pining for you and did the asking for him instead.

Thus the beginning of the sneaked through kisses on your visitations in the scribe’s office, the nights he has spent with you in your home to avoid a certain roommate of his, the dates that were spent by the edge of cliffs, with his head on your lap as he read while you painted the romantic hues of the sunsets in Sumeru — all of which you cherished and Alhaitham even more.

You have always proudly proclaimed that Alhaitham was your greatest muse, and it was rarely a stretch considering that there was an office in your quaint little home that was filled with to the brim of masterpieces you created with your beloved as your sole subject. The sketches that were hastily pinned on a foam board, the paintings of him that gave the man a far more lively depiction of himself than the real one, and the pièce de résistance of your living portfolio was the your lover’s torso, sculpted to perfection.

(You swore you’d put his head in it, but he grew to realize that it would take awhile on the times he’d catch you locked up in your room, in a daze while tracing your fingers on the grooves of his sculpted abs.)

And while Alhaitham valued subjective opinions so little, when it comes to you, your words are his scriptures, his guides that he could never let go of. He waited with bated breath every time he silently sought your approval on how he looks, on how he presents himself as it was an investment to your love — the man that appreciates beauty out of everyone else — he sees it as a way to reciprocate your care. He puts in great effort for you just to return the sincerity that you bring him.

Either way, there was absolutely nothing that could break you apart. And whether people were in the know of your status in your relations with each other, everyone in Sumeru City was aware that wherever you are, the now Acting Grand Sage is always close by and the same applies vice versa.

And today just happened to be one of the times that you were free from your commissions that you’ve received from overseas and Alhaitham was surprisingly free despite his much busier schedule as the Acting Grand Sage.

There was an undeniable bliss in the atmosphere as you strolled around with your beloved and in the silence that you and Alhaitham held, there was comfort and respite. No words were truly needed the moment his hand slipped into yours, barely concealed by his coat that asymmetrically hung onto his form from the public eye.

“Ah!” you suddenly blurted, breaking the silence between you and your lover and catching Alhaitham’s attention, “Look at those fine ceramics! Judging from the design, they’re imported from Liyue, hang on, dearest.”

Alhaitham’s lips turned down into a subtle frown when your hand left his grasp, unable to feel the familiar light callouses that you’ve obtained from working your hands to the bone in your line of work. He looked up from his book to see you gravitating towards a certain stall, eyes narrowing at the way the girl behind the goods seemed far more entranced to your visage than keeping watch of her wares.

He gets it though, he understands more than anyone else. He was meant to be the untouchable Alhaitham — the man that cannot be swayed by just a pretty face. But you yourself broke past his walls without even knowing it, he was already convinced he has to be with the pretty boy of Haravatat. You were the unstoppable force to his immovable object and the only solution when you met ended up with his lips on yours and him underneath you, completely under your mercy.

Still, it doesn’t shake off the fact that you are objectively a handsome man, someone inherently charming with the sharp wits to boot. Alhaitham was sure that even if you can’t provide, someone will be infatuated enough to provide for you (however this in itself is not him admitting that he is near that stage… definitely not). People will throw themselves at your feet, and women and men have approached you with a hidden motive countless times during your dates with him.

Though it was consoling to see you reject them with grace (though he preferred a brutal slap to the face), there was a thought that kept intruding within him when he saw the reality upon dating one of the most sought out men in Sumeru.

You were a man that appreciated and sought beauty. And in truth, he wasn’t just your muse although he was your frequent one. There was always something unsettling the moment your eyes lay on a person who you find appealing, and his scowl couldn’t help but be evident when even without having to be naturally seductive, the way your flustering touches reach other people to convince them to be your muse.

Alhaitham had a green-eyed monster that he unknowingly nursed — its jealous head rearing out on certain moments, breathing down on his neck whenever you left him, your beloved muse.

And it seems as though the fates have woven a test for him. A test that certainly does not appeal to his fancy.

“Oi! Alhaitham, you jerk! Did you steal my keys again?! You locked me out of our— ahem, my apartment again!”

The Acting Grand Sage’s eyes immediately narrowed when he heard that familiar voice. One that he often used as an excuse to come and stay the night with you (really, he never needed an excuse, but his ego refused to absolutely be fragile even to you at moments). He pondered his options, and the choice him just turning away was the most inviting one, yet he knew that would only prompt his roommate to whine louder and attract more attention.

He turned towards Kaveh, his blank expression masking the little exasperation that’s bubbling up inside him, “I’ve never seen your keys.” It was a lie, as it sat snugly in his pockets for a good day now. “Why do you always come to accuse me of such things?”

Kaveh was quick to scoff at Alhaitham’s question, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms before prattling on, “Oh don’t give me that hooey! I know it’s you! Instead of coming home from my projects and just relaxing, I have to go see if Cyno’s still awake to crash into his place!”

“Maybe if you pay your rent, you can stop losing your keys more,” a silent dig had Kaveh faltering with a huff.

“So it is you!” The blonde only shifted his footing before leaning in to jab his finger into Alhaitham’s chest, “And maybe I’ll pay my rent if you start losing those hideous decorations. I’ve only liked one thing and it was that painting that you suddenly brought home.”

“What I do with my money is none of your business,” Alhaitham cooly brushed Kaveh’s accusations off — of course it was deliberate every time he purchased a vase or a rug that had a clashing color palette, or anything remotely sacrilegious in an artist’s (more so yours) eye. But he wouldn’t deny that one painting. It was something he brought home from you, something you even encouraged for him to take as a gift from you on a random day.

Kaveh pinched the bridge of his nose as he heaved a begrudged sigh, “Whatever. Just lend me my keys and—”

“Oh! Aren’t you just the most darling man I’ve ever seen!”

Alhaitham’s heart stopped and instantly dropped down to his stomach when that angelic voice of yours suddenly rang in his ears.

Apart from his crudely decorated purchases, one reason why he never once wanted you to visit him in his apartment often is mostly for the fear of you having to meet his roommate. All for numerous reasons — something that Alhaitham foresaw that he wouldn’t be in favor of in the slightest bit. You know he has a roommate, and knew that Kaveh was the reason why Alhaitham looks relatively exasperated on certain days. For so long, you’ve wanted to meet this man, and yet Alhaitham blatantly refuses because he’s afraid that Kaveh’s ineptness would rub off on you or that you might start taking clients out of the goodness of your heart and not as a proper job.

“What?”

“What.”

Kaveh scoffed, “Oh, just great. Here’s another one of your admirers. Give me the damn key and I’ll leave before I start hurling my precious lunch in the middle of the street.”

And yet both men stiffened up when you passed by Alhaitham, your gaze can be completely mistaken for something lovestruck as you gravitated towards Kaveh. The blonde froze as your pretty face got closer to his, your eyes scrutinizing his features, and even then, the poor architect could only avert his eyes from yours, flustered, before meeting Alhaitham’s darkening gaze, only furthering his confusion.

You finally leaned back, “Ah— Apologies for invading your personal space—! I just! I just find you absolutely breathtaking!” Your sincerity was quick to reach Kaveh, and his face erupted into a blooming shade of bright red. “Oh! What a cute boy you are! And your proportions are undoubtedly stunning!”

“W-Wha—?”

Alhaitham watched in silent mortification when one of your gentle hands trailed towards Kaveh’s arm, sliding down to grasp his hand and bringing his arm up, “Give me a little spin, won’t you please?” You asked with a smile of plea.

Utterly confused and still dumbfounded and embarrassed, Kaveh couldn’t find himself to refuse your polite request (he’d love to call it coercion, but you were so nice) and spun around, his hand still within your warm grasp. He could feel his heart stutter when he heard your pleased hum of approval.

“A good eye for fashion too!” Your hand finally left his and stepped back, “Oh! You are perfect!”

Alhaitham’s eyes narrowed. His arms quickly crossed to his chest — a defense mechanism as the familiar dread slowly sunk in him, spreading to every single crevice of his body. His muscles tensed with every sing of praise that left your lips, with every touch you left on Kaveh’s form, and the way his nuisance of a roommate certainly relished in the sudden attention you’re giving him.

Worst part of it all is that Kaveh wasn’t even remotely aware that you were dating Alhaitham in the first place; that this admiration of yours was just you fawning over your new chosen muse. But he doesn’t know that — so your fondness can be quickly mistaken for blatant lovestruck adoration.

“‘Haitham! Doesn’t he look amazing?” You finally turned to your lover, whose eyes grew soft quick the moment your attention was on his.

Kaveh wrinkled his nose, “…Huh? ‘Haitham’? You know this man?” He asked, his embarrassed look finally reverting into that familiar expression of annoyance as he looked at Alhaitham.

“Of course! You know him as well?” You tilted your head a little to the side with a small smile.

The blonde was strained as he nodded, “He’s… an acquaintance.”

“My roommate,” Alhaitham finally clarified with a displeased grunt. It’s one way to rip the anticipation off, and in an instant, your eyes were elated as you turned to his roommate’s direction.

“So you’re the illustrious ‘nuisance roommate’ Kaveh…” you chuckled a little as you lent your hand to the architect, “It’s nice to finally meet ‘Haitham’s roommate.”

Kaveh took your hand and shook it cautiously, eyes narrowing a little. If you’re in the company of Alhaitham, surely you have some form unbearable personality as well… especially with that disarming sincerity that you exuded, “And you’re the…?”

“The boyfriend,” you stated, clear as a day with a small smile on your face and Kaveh’s grip tightened on your hand.

“The what?!”

“It’s not so shocking,” Alhaitham finally interrupted your conversation with his roommate, his arms uncrossing as he took a step closer to you. “And no, I didn’t pay him.” He already interjected before Kaveh could accuse you the same way he did to the traveler and their floating companion on their first meet.

“I certainly would’ve given a receipt if he did.”

Kaveh’s hand fell from your grip as his life crumbled before his eyes. His roommate that he classifies as the most unbearable person in the whole universe… is suddenly taken? By you? A handsome guy that he has never met in his whole life for some reason? He has to take a reality check, and his vision blurred. No way his loser of a roommate is getting laid before him.

Absolute sacrilege.

Meanwhile, Alhaitham had half a mind to take you and just leave Kaveh while he processed the sudden drop of information. But there was a sick sense of satisfaction that coursed through the Acting Grand Sage’s veins when Kaveh had an existential crisis just because he was absolutely clueless to all the hints that pointed to him having a lover. It was entertaining, to say the least, and once again, Alhaitham had the upper hand.

However that satisfaction soon melted into raw jealousy when your hands clasped Kaveh’s bringing them up as you finally worked your charms.

“So then, Mister nuisance roommate, I hope you don’t mind if I ask a moment of your time.”

Kaveh blinked out of his stupor, suddenly becoming flustered when your hands enveloped his, “N-No— I don’t mind… what do you need?”

And like a man about to profess his love to someone, your eyes glimmered as you popped the question;

“Will you be my muse for this month’s project?”

Alhaitham’s hands itched to grab a hold of you and tear you away from his roommate as his eyes glowered and dug into Kaveh’s form with absolute malice and jealousy. Why did you even have to find his mess of a roommate remotely attractive? What even is so ‘beautiful’ about Kaveh that you just had to touch him? Do you even have to be that close to ask him to be your muse? And why do you keep showering him with praises?

Poor Kaveh had little chance to refuse you as you looked at him so expectantly. Letting out a reluctant yes, you absolutely glowed before showering him some more praises, and ecstatically telling him that you will be over Alhaitham’s apartment to discuss further details with him.

And while Alhaitham simmered in his jealousy, he failed to notice Kaveh finally leaving and you coming back to him.

It’s like his vision cleared when he finally felt your arm snake around his waist, pulling him closer to be your side, “Your roommate is rather adorable, dear,” you said, sneaking a kiss to his temple.

Alhaitham scoffed, “I’d rather you not say that while expressing any form of affection to me.” His tone was cold, but even you can feel how utterly upset your dearest love is.

You only laughed before pinching the lean fat on his waist, prompting the stoic man to jolt, “I find your jealousy far more adorable, however.”

“So you were being deliberate earlier?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I just do it so none of the muses I ask can refuse, though my compliments are of utmost sincerity,” you said before flashing Alhaitham that cheeky grin that he found himself admiring for the nth time now. “It’s a good psychological tactic, y’know?”

“At the expense of your lover’s feelings. How crude,” Alhaitham huffed. “You’re going to have to make up for the poor treatment you’ve given to me.”

The sultry grin on your face was enough for Alhaitham to know that he won’t be coming home tonight.

Ah. Kaveh’s keys are still in his pocket.

Oh well.

[hymn-to-mercury]

✨🪐Astro Notes and Observations #2🪐✨

These observations are all based off my own personal experience and are mostly generic - don't take it to heart if you disagree <3

✨Since I realised how much Mars influence translates into a persons physical appearance, I’ve been looking for evidence of this in other signs and planets, and I’ve namely found it in people with a lot of Moon influence in their chart! I’ve noticed they tend to have big, round features - especially in the face, think big, round eyes. Elsewhere it could mean a round body shape or big belly, even a decent bunda or pair of boobs tbh 😂 but that’s not a total given. There’s just something about them that’s quite… smoooooooooth, and soft looking.

(Zawe Ashton, Princess Diana, and Lana Del Rey are all Cancers!)

✨I find Taurus placements NOTORIOUS for giving unsolicited advice - what sucks most though is that 99% of the time it’s usually quite helpful so it’s hard to complain 😭

✨I know Aquarius’ are often seen as the activists of the zodiac, but in my experience a lot of them aren’t really all about that life. They might be quite forward thinkers, but they don’t usually care to argue - they’re not going to try and convince you about their opinion if they don’t think you’ll actually listen. They are probably willing to have a civil conversation, they’re GREAT conversationalists, but as soon as there’s any heat? They’re out. 

✨If you struggle to identify with your birth chart, try calculate it in Whole Signs according to traditional rulership, as opposed to Placidus with modern rulership! I switched recently, and it’s been a total game changer for me. I resonate with my house placements so much more now. 

✨Cancer Moon and Mars get the biggest ick from rudeness; the quickest way to get on these guys bad side is by being ill mannered. They are ALLL about good manners.

✨Scorpio and Leo in a chart together makes for the least mysterious scorpios ever LMAO just all the angst and non of the mystery - plus they reallyyyyy like to bask in their own misery, and trust, you will hear about it. 

✨Taurus stellium are always putting other people’s needs before their own, truly the mother of the friend group. 

✨Cancer and 4th house placements as the homebody nurturing mother archetype is suchhhh a lazy and reductive take - just because someones got cancer placements doesn’t automatically mean they want to be a parent and launch babies out their vagine till it doesn’t work anymore. Why does no one ever point out the way that Cancers absolutely do NOT play about their parents or their siblings? Or how much Cancers take pride in their home/living space? How inseparable they are with their pets? Or that they’re just as much foodies as Taurus! Especially with sweets, anything from Haribos to pastries. Cancers are more than just breeders.

[uchihaharlot]

I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)

But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.

(I'm an artist, so😎)

Nonny 🥹🥹

That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).

I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹

N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).

Madara:

It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.

And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.

Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.

Obito:

Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.

‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.

Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.

Shisui:

Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.

And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.

But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.

Itachi:

Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.

Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.

[lincolndjarin]

ride cowgirl! ★ (agent whiskey x reader)

(18+ mdni) pairings : agent whiskey x afab!reader summary : you like to make bets with your coworker for simple things, what happens when he decides he wants to raise the stakes? warnings & tags : no use of y/n, smut, sort of dubcon there's reluctance but everything is consensual, porn with plot, this ended up actually being mostly plot lmao, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, light bondage, use of restraints, fully clothed sex, pet names, size kink, praise, whiskey big dick truther word count : 2.3k a/n : first new fic post on the new blog!!! I had so much fun with this thank you so much to the person who requested it !! one of my google forms anon requests was for anything whiskey!! (I put the request at the end) this was the direction I went in >:) this was meant to be a drabble but I got carried away immediately. enjoy!! (this was edited super fast bc i'm tired after work lmao, so apologies for any mistakes)

It was a stupid deal. 

And you never should have made it. 

Of course it’s a little late for that now, when he’s already tying your hands behind your back with his ridiculous flask belt. 

“This wasn’t a part of the original agreement.” You grumble as he pulls the leather tight. That smug smile on his face. 

“You said, anyway I wanted it. This is how I want it.” He leans back against the headboard to admire his work. His eyes focused on the way your chest pushes out now with your arms forced behind you until you cough to get his attention. He takes his time before letting his eyes crawl back up to your face, still grinning ear to ear. 

“Can we just get this over with?” You groan. 

“Oh come on, gorgeous.” He’s loosening his tie, his smile never falters. “I already told you we don’t have to do this. I’ve offered you several outs and you keep turning them down. Besides,” He flashes his teeth at you in a toothy grin. “it’s no fun for me if you don’t want it.” 

That’s exactly what he’d said when you’d made this deal a week ago. 

“I think I want your hat.” You said rather confidently. The two of you had a long standing rivalry. You were placing bets nearly every week at this point. The winner was whoever had the most successful missions. It had started off simple. The loser has to take the other out to dinner, or pay for drinks after a night out. 

After a few months of that you’d gone out with Whiskey more times then you’d gone on any dates. 

Then you decided to raise the stakes. 

The other person's paycheck that week, a piece of tech the other had, at one point your mothers phone number was on the line. (Thankfully that week you had won.)

This week you were feeling lucky. So you pointed at his cowboy hat, he was never seen without. 

“If I win I want your hat.” You cock your head to the side, smirking. 

“You have a hat already.” He was typing up a mission report, you had come in as you always did on Monday mornings. 

“Nice observation agent, how’d you figure that out?” You took a pen from the mug on his desk, rapidly clicking it in an attempt to get under his skin. “That doesn’t change my mind, I don’t want my hat. I want yours.”

He sighs in irritation, taking the pen from you and moving the mug to the other side of his computer. 

“And if you win you can have mine.” You flick the rin of his hat as you say it and he finally turns to glare at you. 

“I don’t want your hat, I already have a hat.” 

“Someone’s in a bad mood today.” You whisper theatrically as he turns back to his work. 

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through darlin’ so let’s hurry this up.” 

“I already told you. I want your hat, if you don’t want mine then pick something else.” 

He turns in his desk chair completely to face you now. Annoyance visible on his face. 

“If I win, then you wear my hat.” As he speaks he cracks the first smile you’ve seen on him all morning. 

“You aren’t making any sense, are you still waking up? Do you want me to go get you some coffee?” You laugh but he leans forward. Even though you were up on the desk and he was in his chair he was still nearly face to face with you. 

“Darlin’ you can be so cute sometimes.” You have no idea what he means but his voice has a condescending tone that makes you scowl. 

“Stop being coy and just clarify.” His first signs of a smile turn into a full blown grin. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” He whispers, you’re about to slap him for making such a crass joke but he looks completely serious. 

“That’s not funny. What do you really want?” You pray he doesn’t see the goosebumps on your arms at his words, you spend so much time with him yet he’s never made a pass at you. You’ve watched him hit on countless women these last few months but he’s never turned his attention towards you quite like this. 

“I told you. You win, you get my hat. I win, you wear it.” He has to be messing with you. You want to believe that he’s just trying to push your buttons but you know purely based on the way he looks at you that he couldn’t be more serious. 

It’s an insane offer. But it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Who wouldn’t be curious about what he must whisper to get women to come home with him, what he must promise them. 

Stop. You can’t seriously be considering this. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously I’m not doing that.” You get up to leave. Embarrassed by the entire situation. 

“You win, you get my hat and the Bronco. I win, you wear the hat.” You’re already walking out when he says it and you stumble a bit before turning back to stare at him slack jawed. 

“You’d give me your car?” The disbelief in your tone is palpable. 

“If you won.”

And you just couldn’t say no. It was too good of an offer. 

So you set up ground rules. 

You wanted your clothes to stay on, at least as much as possible for the situation. Which he agreed to, so long as the two of you did it “how ever he wanted.” You didn’t realize until much later what that entailed. And of course there was the fact that he wanted you to enjoy it. An odd request all things considered, but he said it was important to him that you had a good time. 

“It's no fun for me if you don’t want it.” 

He had insisted that if you weren’t into it that he would stop, especially if he thought you were faking it. 

Once everything was decided the two of you shook hands. 

And then, by some cruel trick of fate, you had fumbled not one, not two, not even three, but all of your missions that week. A feat that has never happened to you in the entire history of your employment with Statesman. 

So that’s how you ended up like this. 

Fully clothed other than your discarded panties, straddling your most annoying coworker, who’s sitting underneath you, dressed the same as always except his pants are unzipped, with his belt around your wrists. 

“Just let me know when you’re ready darlin’, take your time. I can wait all night, I've got nothing else planned.” 

You could tell him no. You should. You just don't want to.

The second you did he would take the belt off your wrists, hand you your panties (the ones you pretended you didn’t see him shove in his pocket when you threw them on the bed,) and send you on your way. And he’d do it all with a smile. 

Of course you can’t let that happen, that would just mean that he’s won, again. 

He wouldn’t even tell anyone, not that anyone knew about the deal to begin with. But he’d never tease you for bailing, he’d just make you live with the knowledge that you bit off more than you could chew. 

And worst of all, if you had won, you know for a fact that he would have handed over the keys to his car with zero hesitation. 

So you roll your eyes and nod. 

He clicks his tongue, leaning forward, his hands rub your thighs, pushing your skirt up further. 

“Tell me you want it sweetheart.” He taunts, making you sigh loudly. 

It’s not that you don’t want it. God knows you want it. You crave it. But you can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I want it.” You say, almost comically emotionless which has him frowning, sitting up straighter. 

“Let’s just call it. You clearly don’t, and I’m not interested in an unenthusiastic partner.” He begins to lift you off of his hips but you push against him, properly sitting yourself in his lap. 

“Give me a second, Jesus. I’m not even warmed up, just- I need a minute. We’re doing this.” There’s a determination in your voice that stops his efforts.

There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. 

“Do you want me to… warm you up?” It’s the first time he’s dropped the cocky facade since you started this ordeal. 

“No. I think I’m okay. Let’s do this.” You nod a few times, almost like you’re hyping yourself up. The two of you hadn’t factored in a lot of the logistical details of this deal, more specifically foreplay. 

As he pulls himself out of his jeans you’re starting to wish that you had. He isn’t even completely hard yet and you aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to take all of it. 

He unceremoniously spits into his hand before gripping himself at the base, steadily stroking himself. 

It’s like he’s a porn star and you’ve got front row seats to a private show. 

You’re close enough that when he leans forward, softly grunting, his face brushes against yours. His cock becoming fully erect in his hand, you hope he doesn’t hear you gulp. 

As he jerks himself off, his free hand reaches up, removing his hat before placing it onto your head. It’s a little too big for you so it tilts to one side. He gives you a lopsided grin before picking up his pace. You watch with wide eyes. 

He’s too big. 

In every way possible. 

He’s too long, he’s too thick, he’s simply too much. 

And you can’t tell him that. He’s smug enough as is, if you say “actually nevermind. you’re dick’s too big I couldn’t possibly fuck you.” he’ll be even more insufferable than he already is. But much to your chagrin he already knows what you’re thinking. 

“You still sure you don’t want me to warm you up?” His nerves are clearly gone as he chuckles before hissing through his teeth. His thumb brushes over his pink, weeping tip. 

“I’m fine. Ready when you are.” Not true. 

“Maybe I could free your wrists. You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to do it.” He’s reaching behind you and you once again halt his efforts. 

“No. We’re doing this your way.” 

You’re certainly overestimating your abilities, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

You scoot forward in his lap until his cock is resting between your thighs. You sit up on your knees and he lines himself up at your entrance. 

“Last chance to back out, sugar.” With that final taunt from him you sink down onto him without warning. Barely taking more than an inch before you drop your chin to your chest so he can’t see your face as he simultaneously leans back to rest against the headboard once more. 

It feels like he’s splitting you in half. 

His hands return to your thighs. His palms splayed against you as his thumbs rub comforting circles against your flesh. 

The sting is all you can think of but buried beneath it all is a heat that threatens to consume you. 

You lift your head to look at him. He’s lost a bit of his bravado as he runs his fingers through his hair. You don’t give him (or yourself to be fair) a chance to adjust. You have a desperate need to watch him unravel despite the ache between your legs. 

You take a deep breath before you take nearly half of him in one rock of your hips. 

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the heat in your stomach is bubbling over as you let out a moan you’ve never heard from yourself before. His grip on your thighs is tight enough now that you’re certain you’ll have to wear a longer skirt tomorrow. 

“Christ darlin’.” He stutters out, his eyes are squeezed shut and you couldn’t be more proud. 

“Is this enthusiastic enough for you?” You manage to grunt out between your small gasps. 

He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

You have to wait longer this time before moving again, you wait until the pain eases itself away and is replaced with that heat you’ve been pursuing. Only then do you try taking more of him, you don’t manage all of it but you take most of him after a bit of effort. The entire time his eyes are trained on you, a look of admiration on his face. 

“You are something else, gorgeous.” He whispers.

His low drawl shoots straight to your core and god you’re sure he knows it. He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

You haven’t even started properly riding him and you’re close. 

The way he fills you has you seeing stars. You would love to try and banter with him right now, tease him, but you’re too far gone. Too focused on the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he lets out a soft whine before squeezing your hips.

“Let me touch you, please.” He mutters breathlessly.

You aren’t one to deny good southern manners. 

You give him a nod and he wastes no time as he rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers frantically, like he’s trying to make you cum as fast as possible. You’re confused as to why for only a moment because your climax approaches so rapidly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. Your hips stutter as you sit, finally fully impaled on his length, in an instant your vision is a searing hot white. His hat tilts forward on your head, briefly covering your eyes. You’re left breathless in his lap, when you come down from your high he’s grinning at you.

“I win again darlin’.” 

You groan as you recall the conversation you’d had right before he had tied your hands behind your back. 

“If I finish first you can have my hat, if you do, then I get to finish inside you.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“If I finish first you can have the Bronco.”

“...Fine.”

a/n : requester ily, thank youuu

[teddybeartoji]

me and toji me and toji me and tojiiiiiiii...

we started out as neighbors but it took us like three months to even propely meet lmao,, it takes me a while to get used to new places so when i first moved in i just stayed at home like a lot. a lot a lot. i literally only left to go to the grocery store and then to the park down the street and that's it. and toji is a big homebody too, so he didn't go out all that much either, just work and then the bar with a friend every once in a while. we just didn't happen to move at the same time, despite living right next to each other.

after about a month, i found myself a third place and slowly but surely grew more and more comfortable there – the cinema (nobody is surprised). i always liked to go during the day, as early as i could, just to make sure that there wouldn't be too many people. always in the last row, always in the middle seat. this is the mickey way. anyway, after creating a bit of a routine for myself, i felt more free to observe my surrounding some more too. felt more comfortable to start people watching. and that's when i saw him. mostly dressed in darker clothes, hoodies and big jackets. sometimes with a cap on, sometimes without it. it's not like he was always always there at the same time as me but when he was, he always sat in the last row but instead of fighting for the middle seat, he always sat at the very end of the row. obviously i thought he looked very handsome – we had made eye-contact a few times while buying popcorn by accident and let me tell you, that was enough to have my heart racing ok i am very weak. but i'm not bold enough to strike up a conversation like that so stolen glances and shared movie experiences were all we had. we btw have a very similar taste in films so we did end up seeing each other a lot there lmao

aaaanyway i just had a silly little cinema crush but never did anything abt it bc i'm a pussy ok😔😔 (he's literally the same). okay but so, one day i was coming home from whereever, just stepped into the elevator when a hand stopped the doors and HE appeared. i was very confused. he.. looked confused too lmao,, but now........ loookkkk.... no matter how handsome he is..... he's still a stranger, and a man too at that. a man who seems to be where i am multiple times a week and is now suddenly where i live. yes, i freaked the fuck out okay. don't judge me. he didn't press a floor button either yk so i really did start to spiral over the fact that maybe he's stalking me or smth..... and he saw that. he saw me tense up and he isn't stupid – he knows he's a tough big guy and it did seem like he could've been stalking me. so he immediately backed away a bit, trying to make himself smaller bc he obviously didn't want to make me any more uncomfortable. and then he just blurted out with his raspy voice that he lives here. it definitely cracked the tension a bit. he cleared his throat and slowly pointed at the floor buttons, saying that he lives on the same floor (btw i need everybody to know that he has a bit of an accent in my head it's very very important to me he speaks english very well but his accent still shines through and i love it very very much<33333). he even showed me his keys lmao and i did feel way more safe after that buuut we still didn't really introduce each other or anything. i guess the air still felt just a bit weird.. the doors opened and we both walked to out apartments in silence (it wasn't actually awkward or anything though it was just . silence) and then looked at each other with silly faces when we realized we literally live Right next to each other lmao that was funny. i just said that i moved in like two months ago and that was it. we went our seperate ways.

for a day.

bc you have no idea.. how awful i felt abt that elevator thing. oooooooh my god. IT'S NOT HIS FAULT HE'S SO BIG SO IT'S SO MEAN FOR ME TO ASSUME THAT HE'S SOME AXE MURDERED YK well it isn't but i still felt really really bad esp since he tried to immediately make me feel more comfortable and tried to reassure me that he was not, in fact, stalking me lmao but yeah idk it just weighed really heavily on me i couldn't help but keep thinking abt it soooo i ended up baking a batch of brownies the very next day. and i went to his door (still in my hello kitty pyjama pants mind you)(i forgot to change them) aaand then started rambling and STUTTERING BTWW while apologizing and he just stood there like ???? like he didn't even understand why i was apologizing in the first place lmao he felt it was a very understandable for me to have that fear and to think the way i was thinking (he actually felt a bit bad abt the whole thing inside too he just didn't really know how to express it). aaaanyway so he was just there staring at me with like a veeery faint smile bc at a point it got a bit ridiculous bc i really did start just rambling abt the whole thing lmao it was uhhh just a bit embarrassing (the fact that he's hot didn't help either thank you very much). he thought it was cute how i was there trying to apologize for smth that he should've been apologizing for himself lmao he tried to say no to the brownies at first and i shoved them at him so hard they all almost fell.. aaand i think that's exactly where he decided that hm. mickey . yes weird little creature i am intrigued i want to know more yk?

btw we still didn't exchange numbers or anything at that point, that happened later after i came knocking at his door at twelve am bc there was a big spider in my room but i'll talk abt that some other time:33333333 thank you for reading abt the miji lore i love you . and i love him. sooooso much he means the world to me<3333333333333333

[preemshots]

oc smash or pass

tagged by @theloverstemperance tagging ANYONE who wants to do this but hasn't yet. please tag me as the person who tagged you so i can read about your OC :D rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

BASICS

Full Name: NV ("nut v". i never picked a real full name, but it's also not valerie or vincent lmao) Nickname: V Age: 27 in 2077 Height: 5'10" Eyes: Black Kiroshi "The Oracle" with red emissive pupil UI Gender: nonbinary Pronouns: they/she; masc>femme nouns Sexuality: yeah. (bi/pan/queer/poly all of the above)

PROS

obvious: NV is outwardly reserved and focused most of the time; brow furrowed, slight resting grump face. but they're also terrible at hiding what they're feeling and it's easy to break this focus. if they like you, they'll react strongly to you--usually with snark, bold suggestions, or by getting flustered.

dependable sucker: prefers to serve others before self, and once making a choice follows through with it (even if they know they'll regret it or have been deceived).

observant: pays attention to every detail of everything they can, will randomly give you the most thoughtful gift or something you mentioned needing/wanting but forgot about.

enduring: can tolerate a lot--physically, mentally, emotionally, even without certainty of reward at the end.

switch: their dynamic depends on the person, but generally are top-leaning. they are just as eager to struggle for dominance as they are to be put in their place.

work hard, play hard mentality: they overwork to justify seeking pleasure and good times, believing strongly in indulgent treats and blowing off steam--and most importantly, treating others.

1TB SDD memory: their sense of humanity is extremely dependent upon their connections with others above all else, whether close/personal, casual/transactional, or human/AI. they will not forget you.

cybernetically enhanced: stronger than average, but they're made of mostly doll parts, so you know. pleasure enhancements are included >:3

CONS

thrill seeker: they constantly want to test the limits of their cybernetic body in ridiculous ways--whether with new, dangerous drugs, by jumping off buildings in corpo plaza, or watching hacked BDs. their cybernetics aren't even particularly strong; they deliberately choose cheap/basic models and are more than willing to blow money on repairs/replacement parts.

rat: refuses to buy food unless it's for others. they'll openly steal food off tables as they pass by random people dining on the street to get the very limited caloric intake they need. if that fails, they'll even eat something off the ground if it doesn't look too gross.

deeply unwell: it's not just the creepy look of the kiroshis; years of cybernetic replacements have eroded NV's sense of humanity. while there's no risk of a full blown cyberpsychotic breakdown, a sort of gnawing omnipresent craving for violence lives inside them, something they consistently indulge in on a small scale via work when the opportunity presents itself. though it's not enough to motivate their decisions, they do enjoy the excuse.

the fool: their sense of identity is largely defined by choice and the guilt that follows. nudging them into misguided choices is not particularly difficult.

indifferent reaper: they are acutely aware of the nature of merc work, how often they're required to pass judgement on behalf of others whom they may not agree with, as well as how often they are given the unique opportunity to pass life-or-death judgement themselves. but even when executing something they feel is right, they don't really believe in greater moral justice, only luck and bad luck.

feral: the relic and johnny's influence prevent further decay of their humanity but also exacerbate a tendency to overindulge in all their vices. they WILL get themselves into trouble.

narrow viewpoint: particularly focused on individual survival, they don't often examine the larger picture (of corps, society, long-term manipulation, etc.)

EXTRAS

former nomad who loves cars and driving around. they are either the best driver (on the clock) or the scariest (off the clock the thrill seeking mentality kicks in, no thoughts head empty, my insurance will cover this, etc.)

utility netrunner: very skilled but only uses it for doing spooky shit, never direct attacks.

throwing knife user. likes to pounce on their prey and abuse finishers.

also a failed arasaka corpo who loves bullying other corpos but is absolutely embarassed about being a failed corpo. it is not hard to see why they were bad at it.

smoker.

eager to follow a leader but generally suspicious of organized groups that recruit. indiscriminately hazes every ganger in night city, will beat their asses for fun and then sell their guns back to them

more propaganda under the cut (warning for slight spice 🌶)

[trippinsorrows]

can we please get that RoSo cooking short?🥰♥️

authors note: welp. this ended up much longer, as i tried to fill in the gaps. lmao

words: 1.2k // warnings: none

-------

Roman’s life has always consisted of long days, restless nights, and a never ending to-do list. Wash, rinse and repeat sort of vibe. He’s gotten used to it though. Used to this normalcy that’s perhaps objectively unhealthy but just the usual for him.

Outside of a few outliers. Today being one of them. He’s home earlier than typical. Much earlier. So much so that the sun is still out and the stars don’t blanket the night sky just yet.

So much so that walking into the house he finds his newly appointed wife maneuvering around the kitchen, humming to herself, clearly trying to multitask. She looks like she’s rushing, and it’s almost confirmed as such when she glances over at the digital clock on the microwave and bites down on her bottom lip.

Roman briefly considers going upstairs, not even bothering to interrupt her. She’s jumpy and sure to be scared by his presence. But, he also considers the fact that she’s clearly anxious about finishing dinner, most likely because she wants it done by the time he usually arrives home.

Of course, that’s a moot point, as he’s already present.

It’s why he settles on just biting the bullet and making his presence known. He walks toward the kitchen, steps away from the large granite island when she turns around and jumps back, yelping, while dropping the, thankfully, empty pot on the ground.

Roman sighs to himself. This girl is so damn jumpy. 

Solana is immediately apologizing, rushing to pick the pot up, observing the floor to make sure it didn’t scuff. Standing back up, she says it again, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Solana, it was an accident.” It feels a bit strange coming out of his mouth, but Roman almost feels a sense of duty to reassure her of no harm, no foul.

His assurance doesn’t wipe that nervous look off her face. “It’s—the food—it’s not ready,” there’s a tremble to her voice, a thick layer of fear accompanying the stumbling continuation. “I’m sorry—I didn’t know you’d be home this—I’ll hurry up.”

“Solana.” He says it again, stretching the vowels. “It’s fine.” Instead of the typical irritation coating his voice, there’s an almost…..gentleness? Mostly because it’s hard for Roman to ignore the fact that this girl is literally trembling before him. The combination of dropping the pot and dinner not being ready clearly causing her great distress. 

Fear, almost.

Fear of his reaction. 

She’s scared.

It’s gotta be why he finds himself asking, “do you need help?”

She looks genuinely surprised by this before shaking her head. “N–no, that’s okay. I—” The pot whistling on the stove calls her attention, forcing her to place the dropped pot back in the sink. Scrambling over to the almost overflowing pot, he waits for her to handle that and turn back to him.

“What do you need me to do?”

Her frown deepens. Confusion painting her pretty face. Even with the scar, she’s easily one of the most beautiful women he’s ever laid eyes on. “Why—why would you help me?” She shakes her head. “I—should do this on my ow—”

“Because you need help.” Plain and simple. There’s nothing more to it. He’s also easily annoyed with all the scurrying around like her head’s been chopped off. It’s annoying for him to watch. Roman rounds the island, noticing how she subtly steps back. He stops, sighing.

Just what the hell did they do to you?

“What do you need?” Again, he’s repeating himself, the irritation rising. Something he tries, for whatever reason, to hide from her. 

She looks around, almost confused, before gesturing to the other counter that has a chopping board and sizable bowl of green produce. “Can—can you help me chop the peppers?”

He follows the direction to where she’s pointing, shrugging, “sure.” Roman moves over to the designated spot, stopping when she calls for him to wait. He watches how she adds seasoning to whatever’s boiling in the pot before moving back by him, obviously trying to keep some distance. 

“Ummm….” She nervously reaches across from him to take the bowl. “You can…..if you could…..”

“Solana.” This girl and all her damn stammering. Jesus. “Just tell me what you need.” It’s truly that simple, or maybe it isn’t, because she’s still looking at him like she’s confused as to why he’s helping her and not yelling at her for dinner still not being ready.

Or worse.

She takes a breath and nods, as if trying to reassure herself. Reaching for one of the items, she pulls it out and starts peeling the charred skin. “I just….need you to peel and remove the stem and seeds from the peppers. I can chop.” She then adds with a shrug, “I can probably do it faster.” 

At the same moment Roman chuckles and smiles, she slaps her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“You’re not wrong. I don’t cook.” At all. Before her, he had meals delivered to him weekly. Sometimes daily. Pre-prepared by a chef that was decent, good even, but nothing compared to the woman next to him. 

“At all?” She asks, Roman starting the task assigned.

“Not my thing.” He hands her the first pepper, briefly amazed by how easily and quickly she dices it up. “Damn.”

She looks down, her hair covering her face, no doubt hiding a small smile he wouldn’t mind seeing. She’s even prettier when she smiles. “I—I cook a lot.”

“Your mom taught you, right?” She nods, the two falling into an easy flow. He peels. She chops. 

“It was our thing….” Roman recognizes the slight shift in her voice. Sadness. He understands more than she could ever know. 

Clearing his throat, he offers her a distraction, asking, “what is this you’re making anyway?”

“Frijoles y Chorizo.”

“What?”

Her lips turn up into a deep smile. Amused. “Frijoles y Chorizo.” She says it slower this time, which he tries to repeat, for some reason still not landing it. Strange for him considering him being a polyglot and typically good with picking up different languages. She giggles. “Close enough.” She clears her throat, asking, “umm—how—how was your day?”

Roman’s taken back by that. He can’t recall the last time he was asked such a thing. Or asked in such a genuine manner. “Busy.”

It’s probably the wrong thing to say because she turns to him, that worried expression returning, “I’m sorry, you’re—”

“Solana, if I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have offered.” And that’s the truth. He’s never been one to do anything he didn’t want to do. Including this. She seems slightly relieved, which makes him also feel it, too. “How was your day?” Another thing that rolls out without much thought. 

Solana is also partially taken back, that smile returning. “G–good. I–I got to read to the kids today.” His perplexed expression leads to her following up with clarification. “I–I do a reading club with kids once a week.”

He can see that. Make sense for her. “How long have you done it?”

“Years,” she answers with a soft sigh. Still smiling with a sense of pride. “They’re really great.”

He’s less focused on the task at hand and more at the almost serene look on her face. “You like kids?”

It might be the quickest she’s ever answered one of his questions. “I love kids.” An answer that also makes sense but….something else as well. Something he doesn’t really understand. “Do y—”

She’s cut off by the pot whistling again, effectively ending a conversation he’s not sure he’d want to have right now.

Because he’s certain she wouldn’t have liked his answer.