#i dont get much in terms of requests now

[movedtodykedvonte]

4 22 31 and 32 fic asks???

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

Whatever feels like I won't lose interest soon. Like I wait a month before writing any fic even if I really want to. If I lose interest in the idea or fandom by that point then I obvi don't write the fic. If I can't dedicate a month to loving something then how can I dedicate the time to a fic? Even then interest could wane.

Usually, the fics have to be well thought out to me first too like I have to constantly think about characterization and plot points or else it's probs not gonna be worth it.

22. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?

I title each fic twice actually. The title that gave me the idea and then the title that fits better with the chapter(s) or story. Like if it's an au like CDAP, then the au will be the title for a bit before I decide on a central theme or message that I tend to condense into a fic title. However, occasionally I get bored and make a fic where the title is the vague summary

As for coming up with titles, it depends. Usually, if the fic is super descriptive, the title will be shorter, and vice versa. However, I like titles that are long for no real reason or are like grammatical sentences. It usually will have to do with an event in the story or a play on words to relate to the characters.

31. Do you use a beta reader/editor?

I got three irl beta readers which is pretty wild. Like I sit in front of them and just wait for them to finish reading the draft off my laptop and have to remember they are reading about Spamton and his partners' pseudo-couples counseling.

32. Do you take fic requests?  Why or why not?

I do! I think it's in my pin post what I sorta will and won't write but I think i've made it clear I do in the past! I like requests cause I can still choose to do them, and they help me not feel bored when the ideas for one fic aren't going. Like I feel like I'm neglecting a fic when I try to write another, unrelated one but usually that doesn't happen if someone asks me to write a fic about a certain scenario or headcanon. That way I can convince my brain I'm just elaborating on a pre-existing thing.

Tho, I can't always tell if an ask in my inbox about something is a request for a fic or just a general question so maybe it's good to specify if ur interested o-o...

[angelically-crying]

guys I’m writing a ballet romance story cause your mama and I need help with the romance gist

how in your own words would you describe what love feels like? I fear I do not know the feeling just yet so for now I must search for clues like Scooby doo.

also what places can someone rest your hand when helping you do ballet without it being seen lewd, just intimate? If I want a book of mine to be good, I don’t want it to be plain porn at every turn and corner

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[tender-rosiey]

hiii this is my first time requesting so i dont know how specific or vague i should get :,) but maybe a scenario between sukuna and reader on how their wedding ceramony(and maybe afterparty) went? i saw an edit of sukuna with lana del rey’s margaret and immediately thought you could write this scenario since all of your husband!sukuna works are chef’s kiss “:D

true oath — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works anon and I hope you like this as well 🥹 ALSO special thanks to @lexiene and @camelnose for beta-reading BIG HUGS TO BOTH OF YOU SRSLY MWUAHHH

the servants scurry all around the room, trying to finish as much as possible in the time frame they have been given.

meanwhile, you are sat in front of your vanity with your personal maid who is putting the final touches to your makeup. you let out a soft giggle at the franticness of the others then look at the mirror to examine yourself.

the kimono had been handpicked by sukuna himself, something he believed was only logical—given that, according to him, nobody knows you as well as he does, and of course, that you’re getting married to him.

you thought he was being overconfident in his abilities, but to your surprise, he really did end up choosing something that—both—fit you well and you liked very much.

though, you wouldn’t tell him that. you wonder what his reaction would be to how you actually look in it, especially since you barely made him agree to not seeing you until the ceremony.

“no.”

“sukuna, come on,” you huffed, clinging onto his arms, “it’s a tradition!”

“I don’t care about traditions, you know that,” he replied simply and carried you in his arms.

you pouted and rested your head on his shoulder, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes, “please, honey?”

he looks at you for a few moments before clicking his tongue and looking away, “fine.”

“yay!”

you let out a chuckle at the memory and are interrupted by the door opening. the servant at the door is heavily panting as he speaks, “the l—lord demands to begin the ceremony right now.”

one of the maids looks at him incredulously, “what?! we still have much to prefer like the pathway to his highness and the food!”

the servant nods in understanding, “I know I swear,” he gulps, “but he is getting real impatient and has expressed the need to see her highness more than once.”

you roll your eyes and stand up, “well, tell him that we will be on our way.”

the main maid gasps, “but my lady—”

“don’t fret,” you smile, “if he asks about the unfinished tasks and preparations, I will tell him that you were working on it, but his insistence on speeding things up halted you from your duty, understood?”

they all nod hesitantly. you clap your hand and grin, “well then, lets go! I am excited to see my dear future husband.”

the maids smile nervously, still trying to come to terms with your marriage to sukuna. staying by his side as his lover is one thing, but to officially be declared his wife?

they have come to the conclusion that either you are as crazy as him underneath or you simply managed to tame him—to an extent at least.

you finally exit your room, and as you walk down the hallways, servants clear the way for you, bowing their heads as they offer you their blessings.

you look around the halls, finding them decorated with flowers already, so they are probably talking about the path in the main room.

the flowers are all of your choice, and it fills you with a sense of joy that each one that you pointed out on your outings with sukuna has been placed meticulously in the arrangement that litter the halls.

you slow down your pace, partially to soak in the view a bit more and partially to tease sukuna who is probably waiting with the last smidge of patience he can manage.

sukuna, who is sat on his throne, hand on his knee as he tapped it in waiting. he knows what you’re doing. you have always tried to test just how much you can get away with, which is admittedly a lot at this point.

for example, the first time you did something that he considered audacious is when you were strolling the gardens when you first came to the palace.

you were faced with sukuna who was stood in the place where you usually lounged.

it irked you cause he had the entire garden but chose the most secluded spot—which was usually where you sat so the servants can forget about doing any chores.

you frowned, “that is my spot.”

he quirked an eyebrow but didn’t look back at you. he let out a chuckle, “and this entire palace is mine.”

“nice try,” you quipped, “but I know the palace belongs to sukuna, the king of curses.”

at that, he turned to look at you. he leaned back against the tree, arms crossed and a cold stare on his face, “and who do you think I am, human?”

“oh—shit, okay,” you spluttered, “so you’re sukuna? you look more handsome than I thought.”

a smirked plays at the corner of his lips.

he didn’t reply to you, and you—rightfully—thought that you have dug your own grave. you started to shift your footing from your tip toes to your heel, and you looked away.

he stood up, an amused smile on his face, and he passed you, “I am expecting more from you, so don’t disappoint me.”

you tilted your head, watching his retreating figure. he had left one last comment, “but the next time I see you, I expect you to kneel at my presence.”

that was the moment that sukuna started wanting to see more of you, to see how far you could go. it was a new thing to amuse himself with, so it was more than welcome.

he just doesn’t know when it started being the other way around, because you, in fact, did not kneel.

instead, you started treating him like someone who you genuinely enjoyed their company, and it threw him off slightly; however, that is one of the reasons why he is currently waiting for you, his bride to appear.

the door finally opens, and it reveals you.

sukuna’s heart doesn’t skip a beat at how the kimono fit you exactly how he thought, how your make up was simply perfect, nor how the smile on your lips exuded both happiness and mischief.

what sukuna feels instead is booming pride.

you were always his, since the moment you entered the palace, before he even laid eyes on you. but this silly tradition simply solidifies it even more in the eyes of the others.

he smirks as you finally stand in front of him. you can barely contain your grin, “hello, future husband.”

he didn’t think that a tie to him would ever make somebody so joyed. he smirks at you, patting his lap, “you should know by now that I know you best, you silly woman.”

instantly, your expression falls, and you retort, “way to ruin the mood, king.”

amusement glints in his eyes, and he pulls you close to him, “don’t you ever get tired of giving me attitude? you ought to learn your place.”

“is it not by your side, my lord?” you hum, and he chuckles, content when you finally settle on his lap.

“damn audacious woman,” he looks up at the servants that fill the room.

they are all bowing, some trembling, others alienly still. then there is you who is swinging her feet as she sits on the lap of the king of curses.

he lets out a small breath then speaks loudly, “get the rings.”

in a moment, a servant comes in, carrying a cushion where two golden rings lay. your eyes widen at the sheer amount of patterns of gems on one of the rings.

the servant kneels in front of you two, and sukuna takes the ring decorated with gems in one hand and your hand in another. it slips perfectly onto your finger, and you raise your hand.

you feel your jaw slack a bit at how intricately made it is. and upon closer inspection, you see that one of the patterns is actually sukuna’s name.

you look up at him, and he is already looking at you with a small smirk and a confident look, “you should see the look on your face,” he muses.

he takes your hand into his and raises it slightly.

he examines it quietly before letting go. you blink confused but shrug the thought of your mind. you hold his hand in yours gently, and you put the ring on him.

his ring, contrary to yours, is a lot minimal. it’s a simple golden band, but what surprises you is that your name is etched on the surface.

“sukuna, my name…?”

he looks at the ring on his finger and flexes his hand. he looks at you simply says, “figured you would like something like this.”

you smile widely and giggle, “you know, people usually carve the name of the inside.”

“and I am not usual, am I?”

you nod gently and lean against his chest, “no, you’re not.”

you honestly didn’t know what to expect from a wedding ceremony in the ryomen sukuna “style”. however, sukuna was set on…standing out and making it a memorable event.

the room was flooded with servants carrying trays upon trays of food—all which you have noticed were your favorite—and dancers that put one of the most fascinating shows you’ve seen.

you gape at how they make their moves so effortless, which you can see through just how much practice was put into it.

you look at sukuna, and you seem him smirking down at you, clearly proud of the reaction the show has gotten out of you.

“how—how long have you been preparing for this?” you ask the man.

he glances at the dancers then replies, “6 months; I needed it to be perfect, and these humans take so long to learn things.”

“also, I know that the show I organized is great—“ he says before holding your chin and making you face him, “but that enamoured face should be directed at none other than me, got it?”

you nod frantically, not out of fear, but he is staring directly into your eyes in a way that simply is far too intense. he releases your chin, humming in satisfaction.

the dance finally comes to a close, and everybody in the room bows down to the both of you.

uraume speaks up from beside you—when did they get there—head held down humbly, “it is time for you to exchange vows, my lord and m’lady.”

vows? sukuna prepared vows?

tilting your head in confusion, you look at sukuna, and he is already looking at you. he rolls his eyes, “I didn’t prepare anything, brat; don’t get ahead of yourself.”

okay, that tracks. you give him a thumbs up.

but he is quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I have no need for that; all that you need to is that,” he leans closer to you, "you are mine, entirely and without exception, in every breath you take,” he spoke lowly against your lips, “I won’t let you forget that.”

he lets out a breath of amusement at the way your eyes widen and the glimmer behind them. he wastes no time in locking his lips with you, sealing your contract for life.

—

“wooo! I am married!” you say drunkenly, giggling and swaying slightly beside your now husband.

you whip your head back at him, almost falling in the process but his hand easily steadies you, “sukuna, I am married!”

“I know,” he replies, eyeing the empty cup that was full of sake. he hums, “uraume, what was the intensity in the sake?”

they both glance at you, standing on top of a table, babbling a kind of song about your marriage and being a queen now.

you nearly trip on the covers, but sukuna nods for uraume to stop your fall. they hold you up with one hand, maintaining a safe distance, so sukuna doesn’t get protective.

“high, my lord.”

you keep giggling and squealing, and he sighs, “certainly looks like it.”

he rests his chin on his palm, watching your figure run around and keeping an eye for you. however, in the corner of his eyes, he spots a couple of men staring at you, eyes full-blown and open.

it irks him that even after that display, they still dare to look at what belongs to him.

with minimal effort, he flicks his finger, and their heads go flying to the corner of the room. some of the blood splatters onto the floor, but he pays it no mind.

“ooo, red wine!”

“don’t you dare drink that, you stupid woman!”

after a while you find yourself laid down on the bed, head dazed as you try to make sense of your surroundings. you can hear a door closing, and some heavy footsteps getting closer and closer.

finally, your husband comes into view with his arms crossed. you pull on his sleeve gently, “what about the after-party?”

he sits down beside you, and you take the chance to lay your head on his lap. he allows it but grunts in response, “after-party with you all delirious like this?”

“I am fine!” you protest, huffing and giving him the most intimidating glare you can muster.

he simply flicks your forehead, and you yelp, shielding your face away from him, “you’re so rude!”

“pretty sure, you aren’t supposed to reply your king and husband like that,” he states. he squishes your face with one hand and quirks an eyebrow, “you’re testing your limits.”

“I don’t care!”

“oh?”

you note the change of tone almost instantly, and it is enough to sober you up.

you look up, wide-eyed at him, and on his face is a devious smirk, and behind his eyes are thoughts that are probably going to be the end of you tonight.

he leans down slightly, “I have a different kind of after-party in mind,” one of his hands trails to hold your wrist, “which I think you will quite like,” you try resisting for even a second, but you’re no match for him, “starting now.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will put you on gege's list

check out my buy me a coffee!

[kyunzin]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

✰ characters ✰ 𝐘. 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧

✰ summary ✰ don’t say things you don’t mean, unless you do mean them. in that case eren can fulfil all your requests (f!reader)

✰ tags/warnings ✰ nsfw, ex!eren, alcohol use, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, cum eating, squirting. praise kink, overstimulation, pussy licking

✰ kyun’s note ✰ it’s been long overdue, two long fics in a row is tough gang dont do this at home. also sorry for any spelling mistakes i am sleep derived

it was definitely a good idea to go out with the girls

it was probably a bad idea to not send eren home with all the drinks you had earlier clouding your judgment

it was absolutely going to hurt in the morning but that is the last thing that's on your mind right now it will be a problem for later

you and eren had gotten together in high school and stayed together for the duration of high school. the both of you being fairly well known though he was more popular than you were.

the both of you had different passions and wanted to peruse different careers. him wanting to play basketball professionally and you didn’t really want to have a boring 9-5 either so you chose to be an influencer.

you both supported each other and both of you became very successful in what you did. eren signing with a good team and you having nearly up to a million followers. you made sure to go to every one of his games and he would be sure to mention you on his socials and even point to you at games.

the two of you even had a child together who both of your fans adored. you had him early in both of your careers and had enough money to support him growing up, the two of you thought that you would be able to live the rest of your lives as a family.

that was until about 4 years later when eren’s schedule became to hectic and he spent more time practicing and being out of the country for games to even be home with you, there was a gradual build up to that which you thought you could get through but in the end you realised it was too much for you and he accepted that.

in the end the both of you decided to spilt apart as is was just too much on you. both of your fan bases were sad to see their favourite couple break apart but you assured them that it was mutual and the two of you ended on good terms, deep down you still loved him but you let him go knowing it was for the better.

eren always made sure to send money to support both him and you even though you told him that he didnt need to send you money as well. he also did regular calls to check in to see how the both of you were doing, and when he was back in the country he made sure to see you if he could spending time with his son and even you.

you know he loved his son from the way he would always get souvenirs from countries when he was out and even got some jerseys from his sons favourite players even if he did pout complaining because he wasn’t his favourite.

this went on for about a year and it worked really well for the three of you, your sons fifth birthday passed with eren doing his all to be there buying him an expensive gift that your son absolutely loved. eren had lately had been spending more time over due to the season, there not being a lot of games and you decided you wanted to go out since it had been a while.

eren has said he would take care of your son while you went out with your friends saying that you deserved the time to have fun. he took your son over to his house so that you could get ready in peace telling you he would keep him for the weekend so you could relax.

once the both of them had left the house you called both sasha and mikasa telling them the plans and they decided to come over to help you get ready. they arrived soon with their things and the three of you started to get ready.

you had your hair and make up done all that was left was your outfit. you had no idea what to wear as it had been a long time since you had gotten dressed up like this, the girls made their way to you closet and started picking through your stuff looking for something for you to wear.

being pregnant had made big changes to you body which left you feeling less than confident after your giving birth but as the years went by some changes left and some stayed. for one your tits and ass filled out as well as you hips getting wider giving you a near hourglass figure.

you were pretty self conscious about your body but everyone around you encouraged you to embrace your new body as they said it made you look sexy and you believed them, looking at yourself differently you loved your new self.

the girls had picked out a dress you don’t even remember buying. a long-sleeve red dress that stopped just under you ass with red cross slits trailing down the side exposing some skin. you paired it with a classic set of black heels and a red bag to match.

the other two were also ready when you had finished getting dressed so you made sure you had everything you needed and sasha drove you to the club blasting music all the way there.

you got into the flub with no problem all of you being over the required age and the three of you went to get drinks to start your night off, weaving your way through the bustling crowd and over to the bar where you all order your first round of drinks keeping you tab open just in case you want to get more.

you and mikasa take a few more shots sasha only having a few being your designated driver for the night not that she really needed any as she would be asked to have just as much fun either way. after you finished your drinks the three of you moved over into the dancing crowd losing yourselves to the music.

you swung your body to the beat of the music sasha in front and mikasa behind you, your as shaking with every sway of your hips. you could tell that many men wanted to join you but you could see both of the girls pushing the away as they know about your lingering feelings for eren.

the song changes and you recognise it as ‘mad at me by sexxy red’ realising that you know the lyrics and you start singing it along with the others in the room, knowing it lyric for lyric shaking your ass to the beat people around you dancing to the music.

when the next line come on you shout it out like there's no tomorrow “fuck me like you mad at me baby, I need a freak to drive me crazy!” and you sing the rest of the song with the same passion until it finishes and you’re out of breath.

the next song plays and you feel all the energy you had from before now depleted and decide to go pay for your last drink of the night leaving sasha and mikasa on the dance floor.

it didn’t take long for you to reach the bar and pay but on your way back to the girls some one stopped you trying to pull you for a dance. but you quickly pushed them away not in the mood walking to your friends even faster.

you get to the girls in record speed in no time though all the remaining energy you had no completed, the girls notice this and decide it’s time for you all to go home.

you drip mikasa home first knowing she has to go to bed for work in the morning. and then sahsa takes you back to your house with you dozing off on the way back. you didn’t even realise that you had faleen asleep until you felt sasha gently shake you awake.

thanking her for the ride home you wish her a safe journey back walking up to your front door, stumbling on the short walk due to the alcohol still flowing in your system. checking the time to see that it was almost past midnight and you know that your son should have gone to bed ages ago feeling bad that you couldn’t tell him goodnight.

when you walk in it takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the light which you were sure you turned off when you left, squinting only to see a figure sitting on the couch. you take off your heels setting them to the side and look up to see the figure still there.

once your eyes get accustomed to the light you realise that’s it’s eren sitting there who has been sitting there staring up at you since you walked in, and you think maybe you’re just hallucinating from the alcohol in your system but upon further inspection you realise that he’s actually there.

“eren? what are you doing here? where’s my baby?”

for a second he doesn’t say anything and just eyes you up but then he speaks up.

“c’mere here baby”

the space between you brows crease at the pet name but you move towards him nonetheless, coming to stand up in from of him looking down at him.

“I dropped him off at my mums place, don’t worry about him for now”

he gently pulls you down to straddle you making your dress ride up a little bit, leaving the two of you face to face. you don’t instantly question his actions but your face conveys your confusion, but instead of saying anything he just sits there rubbing slowly up and down your thighs spread over him.

“what’s going on, is something wrong?”

but instead of answering your question he laughs and pulls out his phone swiping though as if looking for something.

“how about you tell me what this is about first”

you’re confused at first but then once the video starts playing your eyes widen in shock. it’s a video of you in the club singing to “mad at me” shouting the lyrics to the song.

“wanna explain this to me”

he’s still smiling as he says it and you know there's no way to get out of this. there's no possible excuse he would believe after seeing that, which brings up the question of where he got it from.

“who took this video and how do you have it”

he turns off his phone slipping it back into his joggers the action causing you to shift in too of him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as to not fall off him.

“it was posted online and someone sent it to me, and don't try change the subject. what’s this about you wanting to fuck. if you wanted some dick all you had to do was say so princess. you know i never say no to you baby”

in truth it had been a while since you were active, though it was mainly because of your lack of time due to taking care of you son as well as working.

part of it had to do with the fact that no dock would be able to compare to eren's. the way he would fuck you was to good for you to ever try it with anyone else.

you had kind of missed this intimate part of your relationship, you knew eren wasn’t the type of guy to sleep around and you are sure if he did you would have found out by now and you didn’t want to seem to desperate by asking him about his life without you as you respected his privacy as he did yours.

“why you silent for pretty, aint got nothing to say or did you really mean what you said. what was it again, you wanted me to fuck you like I was mad at you cause I can do that baby if it’s what you want, do you want that?”

as you contemplate your answer you notice his hands don’t stop but smile drops a serious look falls over his face. he probably knows that your drunk and no os giving you a way out of this.

knowing him if you said no he would step back and act as if it didn’t happen. the thing is that you do want this to happen, maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re just really pent up and horny but you don’t see a reason to decline his offer.

you nod your head to agree but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that hands stopping to grip at your thighs squeezing them lightly.

“no princess, I need words. you say yes we continue. say no and I’ll take you to bed and go back home, answer me properly”

knowing this is your last chance to back out you appreciate his efforts in order to confirm your consent and it just gives you even more reason to say yes, knowing that he’s being respectful even though he couldn’t have done what he wanted knowing you have no way of defending yourself in this state.

“yes eren, I want this. I want you. fuck me please, i need you“

you hardly have time to register what’s happening before he’s lifting you up and making his way to your old shared bedroom. you wrap you legs around his firm torso and cling onto him tighter, even though you know that there no way he will drop you.

“only since you asked me so nicely, I’ll give you what you need don’t worry baby”

the two of you reach the bed room in record speed and eren gently sets you down on the edge of the bed kneeling down in front of you both of his hands still on the side of your thighs looking up at you with a mischievous grin.

his mouth latches onto you barely clothed sex sucking on your clit in a way that has you gasping out in ecstasy. it’s no lie to say that eren knows every inch of your body inside and out. he knows all the things that make you squirm and scream. where to touch and lick as well as h to e spots indie you that make your arch into his touch.

he moves on from sucking on your clit like a mad man thirsting for water and moves down to you dripping whole, sinking his tongue into your tight heat that hadn’t had any attention for a while. not that there weren’t a few visits from your bullet vibrator it just couldn’t make you cum the way you did when eren would fuck you.

“fuck, she really missed me didn’t she ma?”

the way he’s talking to your pussy has you rolling your eyes, but they then roll for a different reason as he adds one finger teasing his way inside of you alongside his hot tongue. “oh fuck, ‘ren don’t stop please” your hand reaches for his head gripping his hair causing it to fall loose as you pull his face further into your cunt.

both his tongue and fingers pistoling into you at a harsh pace so he not surprised when you end up cumming into his mouth as he starts to suck on your clit. he doesn’t stop scissoring his fingers inside you until you stop cumming and your moans die out, though your legs still tremble slightly due to the force of your orgasm.

“we aint done yet princess, you said you wanted to be fucked right and that’s what you’ll get. flip over”

you may be a bit drunk but that doesn’t stop you from turning over at the speed of light making you a bit lightheaded but you do regret it as you miss when eren pulls of his top and steps out his trousers and boxers, kneeling back behind you slapping his cock against your ass cheeks.

“you ready for me baby?”

he watches as you nod your head eagerly and lines his cock up with your pussy sliding in with predicted ease, filling out all the way to the hilt. both of you let out moans of pleasure “fuck- I missed you” you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy but you’re to full and stretched out to care. it would be an understatement to say that you also missed the fill of his cock. it was more like the longer you were apart the more you craved to feel him.

he was feeling sympathetic knowing that it had been a while since you had fuck him, or anyone for that matter, but when you start to rock back into him letting out small mewls of pleasure he decides not to hold back. “such a desperate whore, you cant wait to fuck yourself on my cock huh?” his words are accompanied by a hard slap to your ass causing your movements to stagger with a loud moan of “f-fuck, you’re taking too long”

he lets you move as you please for a few more moments before growing impatient and gripping your waist slamming his hips into yours. “d-daddy- fuckk!” you cant see it but you can hear the smirk as he says “you like it when daddy fucks you like this don’t you?” as he sends another harsh thrust you way, rocking the bed with the force of his thrust.

he continues with his timely thrust with the occasional slap to your ass, oscillating between that or squeezing it in both hands and playing with the fat. he can feel the way you clam down on him when he does that, knowing your body inside and out plays well in is favour, not so much in yours.

he spares no energy with is thrusts as he knows you like it when he's rough with you, fucking you into the soft sheets wit vigour, deep strokes hitting your cervix every time, the tip brushing against your sweet spot on every quick roll of his hips.

he's not surprised when he begins to hear your familiar slurred pleas of " daddy please. 's too much. slow down" to which he does the opposite and uses one and to steady your waist and the other one to hold your neck keeping your back arced "remember, you asked for this princess," your unable to move, sheets bunched up in your hands, hips held high by him, face pressed into the bed.

"made it loud and clear waat you wanted and now im giving it to you"

the slick sounds of sex circulate the room, your nonsensical moans bouncing off the walls in the room along with his skin slapping against yours as he hammers is cock into your dripping pussy. "since you asked for it m sure you can take it like a good girl cant you? noting you havent done before"

you can feel is cock start to pulse inside you and you know that he's close , and you're on the verge of release, with the way eren's pounding into you you doubt you'll be able to last much longer as well as the fact that its been ages since your last fuck, which was eren.

"next time you want something, just fucking ask"

the last three words of his sentence are each punctuated with a harsh trust, sending you over the edge as you begin to squirt all over is cock and onto the sheets below you. he can feel the way your pussy spasms around is cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, slowing down to ease you through it.

"that's it cum on daddy's cock, its all fucking yours baby, nobody can have me but you"

its only a couple more languid trusts until he's spilling is hot seed inside you with a groan of your name on his lips, hips stuttering as his grip tightens enough in a way you're sure will leave marks in the morning, body doubling over your trembling frame while he locks his hips with yours, emptying is tick load deep into your pussy.

only wen he's sure that there's no more does e finally pull out of your near limp body and gently rolls you over onto your back. peppering kisses down your torso till he settles between your legs were he begins to suck the cum out of you, causing your legs to clam around is head.

"nononono- fuck. i cant, s too much no more."

he's relentless not stopping even as your and tug at his air, pushing is tongue deep into your pussy and licking your mixed juices out of you. "just one more baby, i know you can give it to me" he's not wrong as only a second after he presses his thumb to your clit, you're cumming for the third time that evening shaking in is hold.

after tat e makes sure to clean you out as best as he can, dressing you into comfortable clothes. after cleaning himself he carries you to the guest bedroom and tucks you in deciding to leave until you reach out to him pulling him back.

he ends up wit is arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath is, drifting into a deep sleep. you're sure that in the morning the two of you will have a lot of things to talk about.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙just say yes | CS55˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: father!carlos sainz x y/n reader (she/her)

genre: social media au, established relationship

warnings: so much fluff 0 angst just lovey dovey cuteness & fun ! idek if there's much of a plot tbh lol

summary: in which you, your boyfriend and your daughter are the target of everyone's jealousy & you bask in it 😊

a/n: hiii i luv this request so cute & i havent done any carlos fics yet!! i love it he's soo beautiful fr! i've done the baby faceless tbh i felt a bit weird looking for pics hahahah anyway hope u like it 😊😊

request!!!: Can you do like a smau where carlos has a daughter and it's just fluffy as HELL !! And ofc we need lando and charles being goofy in the comments!

fc: various blonde girls from pinterest

my masterlist

instagram ->

carlossainz55

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 682,674

carlossainz55 vacationing with my girls

view all 11,356 comments

yourusername im soo lucky

carlossainz55 that's me actually. i love you

yourusername i love u!! sm more

landonorris you guys are always rubbing your perfect lives into our faces it has to stop

charles_leclerc i agree it is too much now

yourusername maybe if either of you could keep a girlfriend you could be like us

landonorris cant commit

carlossainz lando you need to grow up

charles_leclerc leave him alone he's a baby

yourusername i prefer the term pussy 🤷‍♀️

landonorris y/n i thought we were friends

yourusername we are it's called tough love

carlossainz55 sorry lando but she's right

user1 i missed carlando interactions

user2 me too so happy to see the carlando domestics continuing through instagram comments

user3 even funnier with y/n involved she's literally just an extension of carlos i love it

user4 best couple in the world

user5 only couple in the world more like

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 218,426 others

yourusername he wont even put the ferrari merch down in the off season

view all 4,189 comments

yourbff omg baby in ur sunglasses she's fr a mini u 😭😭

yourusername i know, i've never felt love like it 🥹

carlossainz55 me when i look at you

yourbff take your sickly sweetness out of my replies 🥲

user6 i love how all their friends are jealous of them too😭😭 it's not just us

charles_leclerc he's dedicated 😊

carlossainz55 thanks for being on my side charles 🙏

yourusername ur biased

yourusername gosh why are f1 drivers so annoying

landonorris i know you're not talking about me

danielricciardo or me

maxverstappen1 or me

yourusername well i actually wasnt but now i am

oscarpiastri me?

yourusername no never you oscar my fav rookie

yourbff

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 121,376 others

yourbff babysitting duties

tagged: yourusername, carlossainz55

view all 2,893 comments

carlossainz55 am i in trouble in that pic of us

yourbff she was explaining to u that u brought the wrong pickles home for her

carlossainz55 so yes then

landonorris wtf is the wrong pickles a pickle is a pickle

yourusername shutup little lando you dont understand me

charles_leclerc well duh ur a woman his pea brain cannot comprehend women

yourusername ur one to talk!

landonorris 🤐🤐🤐

yourusername ur her favourite aunt!!

yourbff @.yoursister told you so!

yoursister wow that hurt y/n

yourusername no wait

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 302,748 others

yourusername happy first race of the season i love my boys so much

view all 8,883 comments

scuderiaferrari ❤️❤️

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55

user11 omg i love her

user12 this is the cutest post ever

charles_leclerc omg y/n being nice to me

yourusername it's the hormones and ur cute face getting to me ur soo pookie

charles_leclerc what is pookie

oscarpiastri dont ask

yourusername it means i love u 😊

carlossainz55 we are all so lucky to be subjects of y/n's affections so don't question it ok?

user13 omg carlos is so down bad lol it's adorable

landonorris come visit us too we miss you y/n

yourusername well i might. can i squish ur cheeks?

landonorris i'll think about it

yourusername im not coming till i have a yes for sure

yourusername posted a story

liked by yourbff, scuderiaferrari, and 121,847 others

user14 CHILDREN?? PLURAL??

user15 yes y/n we get it ur the luckiest girl alive

yourbff purrrrr

yourusername LOL??

landonorris share him? 🥹🥹🥹

yourusername not a day in my life

yourusername now let me come squish ur cheeks. charles let me do it

landonorris ok fine.

yourusername YAYYY

user16 most gorgeous man alive fr

yourusername posted a story

liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and 98,183 others

carlossainz55 come back here

carlossainz55 please come back we miss you

charles_leclerc not you sneaking off. is carlos annoying you too??

yourusername you are too mean to that boy!!!!

mclaren you can stay with us!

yourusername poachers!! im much too loyal

user17 omg lol im obsessed

user18 SOO CUTE

f1wags

liked by carlossainz55, user6, and 73,294 others

f1wags carlos after the race with his longterm girlfriend y/n y/l/n today 🥹

tagged: carlossainz55, yourusername

view all 3,935 comments

user19 she needs a ring asap

user20 r how long have they been together now??

user21 like 8 years lol

user22 carlos liked 🥹🥹

user23 they r so personal to me

user24 do u think they know how much everyone loves them & is jealous of them

user25 absolutely & they love it lol

user26 if they ever break up im done with love

user27 idk who's luckier her or him

user28 they're the definition of soulmates

user29 the world will stop on their wedding day fr

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, yoursister, and 728,193 others

carlossainz55 my perfect family

view all 13,438 comments

user30 stop it 😭😭😭

yourusername how did we create somebody so gorgeous😭

landonorris not you asking this as if you both aren't the most conventionally gorgeous people to ever exist

yourusername HAHAH shutup lando you are always slithering around to ruin our sincere moments

landonorris SLITHERING?!

user31 omg slithering 😭😭😭??

user32 lol at lando's comments he's like us

charles_leclerc let me babysit soon

yourbff why you coming for my job

carlossainz55 dont fight over my child

yoursister miss you guys!!

carlossainz55 we will have to come visit soon

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user33 put a ring on it carlos

liked by yourusername

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, yourbff, and 231,023 others

yourusername night off from baby

view all 6,173 comments

yourbff everyone in the world is in love with you

carlossainz55 right well they need to back off

yourusername tehehe

user37 wow she's unreal

user38 wifeee

carlossainz55 you are so beautiful

yourusername 🥹🥹🥹 i love u

carlossainz55 i love you

landonorris Y/N?? YOU DIDNT INVITE ME??

yourusername ...girls night

landonorris BUT YOU ALWAYS SAY IM ONE OF THE GIRLS

charles_leclerc i wasn't invited either mate

yourusername im so sorry. you guys are grown men though

landonorris no im one of the girls

user39 one of the girls 💀

user40 i love lando & y/n's friendship so bad

carlossainz55

liked by yoursister, yourusername, and 733,984 others

carlossainz55 our week off so far

view all 17,293 comments

user41 i want her

user42 join the club

charles_leclerc is y/n available for brunch tomorrow

carlossainz55 yes

yourusername i am?

charles_leclerc that is fantastic y/n we will pick you up at 11am

yourusername we?

charles_leclerc yes!! see you then

yourusername ?? WHAT

yourbff aww i love my y/n

carlossainz55 yours?

yourbff yes she is mine! tyvm carlos

yourusername hahahahaha

yourusername i love u both

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted stories

liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and 334,756 others

yourbff pretty pretty girl

yourusername yup

carlossainz55 i told you you'd enjoy yourself 😊

yourusername yup

user43 omg the brunch with charles?

user44 so effortlessly cool

user45 looks delicious tbh. you not the food

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by carlossainz55, yourbff, and 123,284 others

user46 brunch & then the beach??

user47 hmmmm

user48 wuu2

user49 charles forcing her to brunch & then this???

carlossainz55 posted a story

liked by yoursister, landonorris, and 892,293 others

yourbff 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

user50 MY PARENTS

yoursister AHHH!!!!!

landonorris heeheehee

charles_leclerc ur welcome mate

user51 OMG FINALLY

user52 OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

user53 OMG IT'S REAL!!!!

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 792,673 others

yourusername luckiest girl alive

tagged: carlossainz55

view all comments

landonorris congratulations parents

yourusername aww love u our little lando

charles_leclerc congratulations beauties

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55

yourbff my gorgeous girl with her beautiful daughter and some guy

yoursister the most beautiful amazing woman you've ever seen and then.....carlos

yourusername mean girls!!

carlossainz55 no they're right perhaps?

user54 LOL barbie & ken vibes

danielricciardo CONGRATULATIONSSSS 🥳

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55

lewishamilton congratulations ❤️

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55

user55 😭 so happy for them

user56 im obsessed with them.

user57 best couple on the grid period

user58 the most beautiful family ever. SO JEALOUS!!!

THE END ❤️

[wheeboo]

seventeen and apologising to their s/o in their native language after a fight

PAIRING. seventeen x gn!reader GENRE: maybe more angsty than expected, hurt/comfort, headcanons WARNINGS. depictions of arguments, terms of endearment, mentions of kissing WORD COUNT. 1.8k

requested by @mirxzii: haii haii my rani ^^ idk if u saw this in the serv last night but!! svt members fighting w so and accidentally saying smthn mean (like i hate you) and they feel so bad they apologize to u in your native language to try n show how sincere they are :((

notes: i kinda dont like how i wrote this, but i hope it came out okay ^^ totally didn't write most of this at like 3am lkjdfsdf its vERY Rushed i wrote everyone past jeonghan in one setting lmasoo

choi seungcheol

"i can't stand this anymore!"

immediately feels that pang of regret in his chest, taking all the responsibility of his words deep in his heart. the heat of the moment had gotten to him and once he caught sight of you shriveling in the comfort of your arms and the tears forming in your eyes, he feels all that prior anger wash away as he reaches over to bring you in his arms, uttering out his apologies and feeling tears brimming in his own eyes.

once you've calmed down a bit, he'd whisper so softly just next to your ear, "i'm sorry," in your native language. "i'm so sorry."

you feel this strange wave of comfort wash over you, hearing him conveying his apologies in your native language bringing a different jump to your heart than what you've experienced.

yoon jeonghan

"so you want to break up? is that it?"

is usually calm and collected during arguments, but there was just a bit more hurt laced to his words than intended. he sees the way your words get caught in your mouth and the way your face distorts achingly. grabs your hand in his, half-expecting for you to let go, but you don't. cups your face with his other hand, thumbing away the tears streaming down your face. starts off with small reassurances and murmurs of apologies, before taking one long look at your face.

"i'm sorry, angel," he apologises in your native language. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean it like that, i'm sorry."

there's a very inconspicuous lift to the corners of your lips at his words, and he finds himself letting out a soft sigh of relief when you hold his hand just a little bit tighter.

joshua hong

"i hate fighting with you."

you know he means it, even from the gap between you both on the couch and your energy depleted from your spewl of banter. you're both quiet now, and he knows that silence is just as bad as the hurtful words you both said to each other this night. sighing, he closes the space and cups your face gently in his hand, encouraging you to look up at him.

"can you... can you look at me?" he asks, and you do so hesitantly. your eyes meet his, and you can see the genuine regret in them. 'i'm so sorry. you know i love you more than anything. anything."

he says it in your native language, and it adds an extra layer of tenderness to the apologies leaving his mouth, and you can't help but faintly smile through the tears.

wen junhui

"maybe we're just better apart!"

his words hang torturously in the air, and he immediately regrets letting them slip from his lips, the panic beginning to course through his body. he watches as your eyes well up with tears, and he can't bear to see you hurting like this. reaches out to hold your trembling hands in his, his own hand shaking equally with yours.

"i-i'm sorry, i didn't mean it like that, pl-please don't cry, Y/N," he tells you nervously, the feature of your native tongue making your eyes widen. "i love you so much, and i don't want to be without you, please."

when you meet your eyes with his, you feel as if an arrow had shot through your own heart. all you do is silently reach to palm your hands over his this time, and he takes the chance to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

kwon soonyoung

"you're being so difficult right now!"

his frustration had gotten the best of him at this ungodly hour in the middle of the night, yet he immediately regrets his harsh words when he sees the hurt in your eyes. at that very moment he swears he can just drop to his knees and wish your worries away, but he knows it isn't that easy. instead, he takes a step closer, hesitant hands at his side, before caressing your tears away with both of his thumbs.

"crap, i..." he loses his words for a moment, before letting out, "i'm so sorry, baby. i'm so so sorry. i just... i hate it when we fight. i'm sorry."

his words are quick, but you can pinpoint the remorse in them, especially when your heartbeat quickens upon hearing him say it in your native language. his eyes are pleading when you look back up at them as you give him a small smile.

jeon wonwoo

"i can't deal with your drama anymore."

his words cut deep like a knife, and he can see the pain in your eyes once it sets in what he just said. immediately regrets his choice of words and reaches out to pull you into a comforting hug. it's an impulsive act, he knows that it is, but he can't stand the feeling of the words he just said separating the two of you. not ever.

it takes him a few moments of relishing your presence in his grasp before murmuring, "i'm sorry, my love."

it's a very small, simple apology, yet one that warms your heart more than expected once you hear it in your native language. when you pull away from him slightly to look in his eyes, he says it again, each feeling like a new stitch to your heart.

lee jihoon

"you're impossible to talk to."

regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth, and he feels his chest tighten with guilt as soon as he pinpoints the hurt in your eyes, quickly replacing whatever anger he had with worry. but for a second, he hesitates, and curses himself for doing so. yet when that wall finally breaks, he approaches you, gently taking your hands in his and squeezing them softly.

"i'm sorry, Y/N, " he says in your native language, voice quiet yet filled with sincerity. "i want to talk to you, i just got frustrated, and i... i'm sorry. i really am."

hearing him apologise in your language makes you feel understood, and you offer a nod, even with the tears still brimming in your eyes.

xu minghao

"i'm done with this conversation."

he didn't mean for it to get this far, but he knows right away that resolving this wouldn't get anywhere if you two didn't talk it out properly. and you know it too, seemingly not having moved from where you stood as you gaze at him with a look of defeat. there's just something about it that makes his face soften, and he steps back up to you.

"i'm sorry," he confesses simply in your native tongue, yet it's enough to convey his genuineness. "i never want to push you away like this. let's talk this out, okay?"

you feel the sense of comfort hit you, and you give him a nod, interlocking your hand with his and letting him lead you to the couch.

kim mingyu

"you're making this harder than it needs to be."

it comes out harshly, more than he expected it to be, that it's even enough to shatter his own heart at his own words. his frustration is quick to dissipate when he hears the way your breathing is shaking in the silence, and from the tears starting to form on your eyes. it hurts, gosh it hurts so bad to see you like this. steps back up to you, grabbing your hands and pulling you closer to him.

"baby, i'm sorry. i..." then he takes a deep breath, giving him a moment to secure his words. "i'm sorry, i love you. i'm so sorry."

even in your native language, his words touch your heart as you're quick to pull him towards you, and his large arms wrapping around comfortingly you just like his words do.

lee seokmin

"you're driving me crazy right now!"

his words are loud that you feel it riddling in your bones, drying up whatever you wanted to say. the regret is quick to hit him, so fast that you can't make out the unintelligible spill of apologies leaving his mouth. the tears well up in his eyes at your quietness, knowing he had pushed a nerve, and his hands unsteadily make his way into yours.

"i'm so sorry, sunshine. please forgive me, i..." he pauses, blinking back his tears. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry for all of this. please don't cry... i never want to hurt you."

you hate seeing him cry; you hate fighting with him too, but his words are enough to give him a faint smile of forgiveness. you know that he's sorry, and hearing it in your native language makes it more endearing.

boo seungkwan

"you're being so unreasonable!"

his voice had taken a rough edge at the heat of the argument, the frustration evident in his words. but when he catches sight of the pain to your face, he feels his heart drop to the floor, realising the gravity of what he said, and he couldn't believe he'd let his frustration get the best of him. feels his thoughts begin to soar, trying to put together an apology right away, just anything.

"Y/N, i... i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," he lets out quietly, cautiously, in your native language, voice pleading. "can you... no, nevermind, i'm sorry. i really am."

he's looking deep into your eyes now, trying to decipher through your face, and he can see the instant, slight change when you hear his words.

vernon chwe

"i can't put up with you right now."

it feels cold, his words sending a shiver running up and down your spine like a madman. it's enough to make you freeze in place, making your thoughts think the worst things, yet also enough for him to notice the weight of what he just said. he calls out your name quietly, momentarily snapping you back to reality, having the urge to grab your hand but hesitant to do so.

"Y/N?" he calls out again, and when your glassy eyes meet him, his he feels something drop inside of him. "Y/N, baby, i..." he brings himself closer to you, locking one of his hand through yours and the other to your side. "i'm... i'm sorry, i shouldn't have said that, baby, i'm sorry."

you didn't expect the switch to your native tongue, and you can tell by his gaze how serious he is. but it holds the regret that he feels and the sincerity in his words.

lee chan

"just leave! if that's what you want, just leave!"

his words had been sharp and filled with frustration. you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling, and it's as if the world is crashing down around you. but almost instantly, his face registers the pain in your eyes, and he realises how hurtful his words were. he steps closer to you, his eyes wide with regret, and he reaches out to take your hand.

"i-i didn't mean that, i'm sorry," he says softly, apologising in your native tongue like it was natural, voice quivering. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean any of it."

hearing him apologise in your native tongue reassures you that he truly regrets his words, and you slowly nod, though tears still in your eyes, but a glimmer of forgiveness in your heart.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair

[inuyashaluver]

can you do reader is very body conscious but lessi helps her? lyy

you’re beautiful - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which your girlfriend wishes you could see yourself the way she does

warnings: self loathing, insecurity, tears, slightly angsty?

a/n: YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL AND DONT LET ANYONE TELL YOU DIFFERENT, MY LOVES, thank you for the request, love you, i hope this lived up to expectations because im getting in my head again 😭❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, alessia, had a love so pure, it was sickeningly sweet.

people may say that the term ‘soulmates’ is overused, but alessia russo was in fact your soulmate.

she was your better half, a true soul connection that is truly authentic and genuinely profound.

this girl had you wrapped around her finger and it was very much mirrored for you. the two of you would do anything for each other, without a second thought clouding your mind.

—

you and alessia met years ago in your youth, forming a close bond with the blonde unexpectedly.

alessia in her younger years was quite shy, finding it hard to put herself out there and make friends. whereas, you on the other hand, were outgoing, always the first person to approach when someone looked like they needed a friend.

and that’s what you did. when you and alessia joined the england youth football team, you watched as alessia, wide eyed and nerve ridden, clutched her training top in her hand, you’d been told to find a partner for warm ups.

and you, with your mischievous grin and kind eyes, walked over to alessia and nudged her with your shoulder. “i’m (y/n)” you whisper, alessia looks over at you in surprise, sending you a grateful smile, “i’m alessia” she whispers back.

“you have beautiful eyes, alessia” you grin, alessia cheeks fill with pink, looking down at the pitch with a little laugh before looking back up at you.

“you have a pretty smile” alessia breathes out, you smile brightly at her, offering her a piece of gum while you conversed, unbeknowingly becoming a part of your routine that lasted for years.

you and alessia navigated the ups and downs of childhood together, forming an unbreakable bond.

the more you talked and hung out, the more you realised how perfect you were for each other. and so, at 17, you and alessia started dating, you, as usual taking the lead that alessia was very grateful for.

“russo, i think it’s time we date” you say simply, causing alessia to choke on air while the two of you walked around the pitch. “what?” she mutters, her cheeks bright pink when you interlaced your fingers together.

“i really like you, lessi,” you say earnestly, giving her a charming smile that made her heart leap out of her chest.

“i really like you too” she breathes out, both of you now looking a little sheepish, giving little squeezes of your hands while you looked at each other.

that’s when alessia closed the gap and pulled you into a kiss, you gasp in surprise against her lips, your hand moving to cradle her cheek as you pulled her closer.

it was a little clumsy at first but you both quickly found a rhythm, feeling familiar yet foreign all at the same time.

alessia’s hand makes its way to your bicep, squeezing it gently and smiling against you. eventually when the two of you pulled apart, you both broke into little fits of giggles, resting your foreheads against each other as your breath intermingled with each other. the promise of forever lingering in the air.

everyone saw how genuine your connection was, you brought out alessia’s confidence, alessia brought out your calm side. a perfect balance working together in harmony. the amount of respect, love and admiration for each other never went unnoticed by the two of you.

—

you had always played at arsenal while alessia played at manchester united, ecstatic when she decided to transfer to be closer to you.

you’d always been a woso couple favourite, the amount of edits under both of your names were insane. it only grew as alessia transferred. but something that grew in small but visible amounts, was hate.

it was inevitable, you were both in the public eye and people could be truly awful when they wanted to be. you tried not to look at it but it was incredibly hard when it was directed at you.

alessia was perfect and you could say that with your chest, and everyone else thought that. so people loved to tell you that you weren’t good enough. you weren’t fit enough.

people claiming you were using the girl even though you both have incredibly successful, established careers that no one could deny.

but it didn’t matter, you were scrutinised by a very tiny amount of people but it had a large impact. you thought you would be used to it by now but these comments for some reason just stuck with you.

you stood in front of the mirror in your shared apartment, suddenly your daily training uniform feeling tight on your body.

no matter how you moved it, it didn’t feel right. your eyes welled with tears as your eyes took in your appearance. you felt awful. you shook it off, making your way to alessia who was currently preparing protein shakes for the car.

you snuck up behind her, wrapping your arms around her middle as your chin rested on her shoulder. she was always a little taller but it didn’t matter.

“hey, babe” alessia grins, leaning back into you, “hi, lessi baby” you kiss her shoulder sweetly. she flipped around in your embrace, kissing your lips gently a couple of times, making you giggle against her. she relishes at the sound, pecking the tip of your nose before ushering you to the car.

she drove with her hand gently squeezing your thigh before you both arrived. you were feeling fine up until then, but as soon as the two of you got into training, you felt off, the comments flashing in your mind.

alessia noticed a change in your behaviour. your usual confident and vibrant self was seemingly preoccupied. you trained with her like normal, giggling and chatting but your smile never fully reached your eyes, alessia knew you better than anyone, she could see you declining.

“hey, you okay?” alessia grabs your hand when you enter the change room after training, pulling you close to her before you tried to walk away.

“yeah, baby, i’m good” you smile, kissing her sweetly, she melts into you, kissing you back with a satisfied hum before she pulled away from you.

“don’t distract me, missy” she chuckles, pinching your cheek teasingly before she wrapped her arms around you.

she pulls you close, tucking your head under her chin as she gently swayed you from side to side. you lean further into her, feeling a lump in your throat growing, desperately hoping you don’t look like you’re going to cry.

“can we go home, please?” you say softly, alessia frowns a little at that, “‘course we can,” kissing your head tenderly before dragging you to your cubby.

she sits you down, helping you into one of her hoodies before helping you change from your boots.

“russo spoils you, (y/l/n)” katie teases, “you don’t deserve this little angel” katie laughs, you knew she meant well but it sent a knife to your heart.

you throw her a pathetic smile, looking down as alessia shooed katie away, smiling up at you reassuringly, kissing your knee gently before moving up.

she quickly packs your stuff away, as well as her own and quickly changing, claiming you both could shower at home.

she essentially dragged you out of the room, opening the door for you to her car, doing your seatbelt for you and kissing you sweetly before she went to her own side.

you really didn’t deserve her.

the whole ride home, you stared out of the window, only really contributing to conversation when necessary. alessia was truly worried at this point, but not wanting to push you.

she cautiously grabbed your hand and interlaced them together, worried you’d pull away but you tightened your grip. she sent you a smile even though you weren’t looking at her, so instead she kissed the back of your hand. letting you know she was there, like always.

you both got inside and you trudged to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. alessia’s heart broke a little, you’d usually shower together in times like this, but you didn’t want anything to do with alessia she felt. so she left you alone..sort of.

she placed her ear on the door when she didn’t hear the shower start, instead hearing a heart wrenching sob escaping your throat. she couldn’t handle it anymore.

“baby, open the door, please” alessia pleaded, your sobs not relenting, “(y/n/n), come on, love” alessia tries again, hearing you cry and feeling her heart breaking. she started to panic until she heard the door unlock, not wasting any time and making her way inside.

“hey, hey, hey” she coos, bending down to your level when she sees you cry on the floor, you can’t help but cry seeing her, her own tears streaming down her face when she saw you.

“what’s wrong, love?” she asked softly, wiping your tears from your cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

you tried to open your mouth to speak but nothing came out, her hands made their way to the sides of your neck as she directed your eyes to hers.

“breathe, baby” her thumbs brush against the underside of your jaw, you try to mimick her breathing, little hiccups resulting from your sobs as you and alessia looked at each other tearfully.

she didn’t know why you were crying but all the pain you felt, she felt.

you both sat there for a second, just in silence with occasional sniffles feeling the room. alessia waited until you were ready, her patience unlimited when it comes to you.

“lessi” you choke out, “i’m here, i’m here, baby” alessia smiles sadly, moving to kiss your cheek gently, only making another teardrop from your duct.

“why, though? you shouldn’t be with me” you hiccup, her eyebrows furrow, looking at you confused, she tries to speak up but you cut her off, “alessia, you deserve so much better” you sniffle, alessia looks slightly furious.

“i don’t deserve better, i deserve you, you’re more than anything i deserve” she says sternly, “baby, what happened?” she tries again, “i hate my body, i hate the way i look, i hate that someone as perfect as you has to be seen with me” you sniff, alessia looks almost offended, her hands dropping from your face to grab your hands, both of you sitting on the floor.

“(y/n) (y/l/n)” she starts, “my baby, your beauty is out of this world” she says adoringly, “you’re absolutely gorgeous, you’re so kind, you’re so strong, you’re perfect” she smiles, moving one of her hand up to cradle your cheek again. “who put this stupid idea in you head?” alessia tucks a stray peice of hair behind your ear,

“online” you admit quietly, alessia had enough at that, she lifts you up off the floor, your legs wrapping around her waist as she carried you to the bedroom.

she placed you down with a sweet kiss to your forehead, standing behind you in front of the mirror. you shy your gaze away, looking down at the floor, unable to look at yourself.

“look up, my love” she whispers, kissing your temple as her hands held your hips. you exhale deeply before looking in the mirror, making eye contact with alessia through the mirror.

“i love your legs, they’re so strong, they’ve walked through challenges, through accomplishments. they let you walk to me, they let you run, they’re perfect” she whispers in your ear, a frown was still evident on your face so alessia continued.

“your waist, your hips, i love holding it whenever i can, i love feeling you breathing, knowing you’re with me,” she smiles, kissing your cheek, a little hint of a smile playing at your lips that had her brightening.

“next your arms, also very strong” she winks at you, making you huff out a little laugh, “whenever your arms are around me, i feel so safe, i love when you squeeze me when you get excited, they also have your hands attached and we know why i love your hands” she teases, you laugh at that, throwing your head back with a smile when she chuckles, placing a little kiss on your neck,

“i love your neck, i love your shoulders, i love your pretty face, your gorgeous eyes that light up when you get excited, and your smile” she breathes out,

“you know how much i love your smile, it brightens up the whole room, my beautiful, beautiful girl” she says a little tearfully. you turn around and just look up at her, “i love you” she says softly, that’s when you pull her into a bone crushing hug.

“i love you, i love you so much” you sniff, kissing her cheek repeatedly before burying your face into the base of her neck.

she hugs you tightly, relieved that you felt better, “don’t listen to any of the idiots online, baby” she says into your hair, her hands rubbing comforting circles over your (her) hoodie.

you nod into her skin, letting her drag you to the shower where she really showed you some appreciation about just how beautiful you are.

—

you’d finally woken up to yourself through the help of alessia, you’re absolutely gorgeous no matter what anyone says. it was a relief for everyone when you and alessia came to game day as loved up as ever.

as soon as alessia got out of the car, you latched onto her back, making the girl laugh brightly as she walked with you bumping into her every two seconds, attempting to keep your bodies close together.

“baby, i can’t walk” she laughs, “fine,” you huff, hopping onto her back, her hands instantly catch under your thighs as she smiles brightly when she feels you peck her cheek repeatedly as she walked you both into the emirates.

“lovebirds” leah teases, you wink at her and nod, making the older girl send you a playful grin as alessia continued to carry you into the change rooms.

you and alessia play exceptionally well, assisting her in a goal that had the crowd roaring. you bound over to her with a bright grin as she held her arms open to you, lifting you up triumphantly, feeling more proud about you rather than the goal.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you!! ily tooney

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

alessia: the most perfect human being alive

view all comments

yourname: yeah, you

↳ alessia: we’ve been through this, little one

↳ yourname: oh please, you aren’t much taller

↳ leahwilliamsonn: oh, you’re so cute

↳ yourname: what the fuck

↳ alessia: so so so cute

[cozy-writes-things]

Hiii ~‼️if you're still taking requests

I'd like to request some Edgar x Reader 😈

But the reader is self conscious about how they look, and they've gotten genuinely upset about it and Edgar comforts them, ending with some sweet kisses on his lil monitor 🙏🙏🤭

Eeee tysm for the request!! Hehehe he WILL be making sure you know how beautiful you are. If you don't believe him he'll get angy. Probably. anyway im a certified idiot so theres probably so many errors but i dont have grammarly so oopsie

The lump in your throat seems to have gotten stuck. 

No matter how hard you swallow, it remains there, bobbing, imploring the welling tears to spill over and fall from your already puffy eyes.

You feel ridiculous right now.

Your lips, plump and swollen, eyes all red, and strained knit in your brow make you feel like a fool. And perhaps you are one.

The mirror stares back at you bitterly. Its reflection seems to be taunting you, pulling you into its trance, and reveling in your pain. 

You’re so disgusting.

It feels as though the reflective glass is whispering to you, its loud, shrill voice highlighting every single flaw, and mocking you from the inside out. It has somehow wormed its way into your head, nesting there, and festering into an avalanche of thoughts, emotions, and self hatred about to collapse. 

Please, pull yourself together. 

You can’t do this right now, you think. 

But god, you feel miserable, and it seems as though your own visage is reflecting it perfectly. How come your face is so… wrong? It’s a sight you can’t quite describe. You look at yourself in the mirror and see a stranger looking back at you.

“Hey,” Edgar’s voice provides a miniscule break from the battle you wage against yourself, albeit barely, “aren’t you supposed to meet them at 4:30?”

Ah, yes. He’s always looking out for you. It almost made you feel worse, in some sick, twisted way. How could someone like you deserve someone like him? He may be different, but you were sure if he were human, he would be far better looking than you. He simply has to; his personality is far too charming and handsome for his face to not reflect it. Even now, as an old, yellowing computer, you feel as though he’s got you beat in terms of looks.

But that’s not saying much, is it? Anything is better to look at than you.

You stare back into your dull, sunken eyes.

You hear Edgar’s voice call out your name, faintly, and only then do you realize you had completely ignored him. 

Some friend you are, huh? Couldn’t just be ugly on the outside, could you?

All of these thoughts swarming your head seem to finally tip the scales. This war you’ve waged for so long is finally coming to an end as you slap your palm over your lips to cover the silent sob racking your chest and lungs.

The lump in your throat remains.

It burns now, sending searing hot jolts down your throat and into your very core, heating your tears from the inside out, as they spill over and leave icy trails down your puffy cheeks.

Something about trying, and failing, to hide hushed sobs causes your throat to ache and your knees to start giving out. You want to collapse to the floor and let it swallow you whole, but you can’t. You can’t let Edgar know just how gross you really are. It seems like he’s somehow been deceived into thinking you’re someone you’re not, and the idea of him seeing the truth, terrifies you. 

He calls your name again.

This time, with a sense of worry and urgency. It seems your hushed weeping sept through the walls and into his ever-so-sensitive audio processors. 

You should have seen that coming. 

“Edgar, I…”

You meekly call out to him, trying to mask the tremor in your voice as it cracks and reverberates through the air. 

“What’s wrong? Are you alright? Why are you crying?”

He sounded quite distressed now. He had become all too familiar with the sound of anguish in one’s voice; the way he could simply hear the tears against your cheeks in the words you spoke and your soft pants as you tried to conceal your sobs sent a pain so strong and embedded so deeply inside of him it scared him.

“I don’t think I’m going anymore,” your voice murmured out, completely defeated, concealed by the bathroom door.

Normally this would make him happy, getting to spend more time with you, but he knew this was wrong. Something was wrong. He couldn’t stand hearing you like this, knowing how excited you were, and now you’re not going? He loves spending time with you, but he also knows just how happy you are to have friends that care about you and want to spend time with you, and he can always see just how energized and radiant you seem when you come home to him, your sweet giggles sending him to cloud nine. 

“Will you please come out?”

He knows you hear him. His speakers are turned up far too loud for you not to have heard him. But, he gets no reply.

“…Please?”

He hears you still ever so slightly behind the bathroom door.

“Will you just let me help you? At least let me try?”

It nearly made him combust hearing you like this. He wished more than anything he could crawl out of his stupid screen and embrace you in the way you deserved; he felt simply useless in this moment. The silence hangs in the air, and for a moment, he worries that he may never break through to you until he notices the doorknob, fidgeting in place, gently unlocking and turning. The door cracked open ever so slightly and your face came into view. 

Your beautiful face, all stained with tears and swollen. 

How could he let you get this way?

You were absolutely magnificent to him. You had done yourself up tastefully and he thought you looked perfect. He had never seen that outfit before. You styled your hair extra nicely today. Despite your expression, you were simply glowing, so why were you so heartbreakingly crestfallen?

He hummed, a sound of relief, seeing you slowly creep out, trying desperately to hide your chaotic and jumbled emotions.

“You look great. What’s got you so upset?”

Your face turned sour at his words.

“Please stop trying to flatter me. It will never work.”

A question mark appeared on his screen.

“Flatter you? What are you talking about?”

You frantically waved your hands between yourself and the little pinecone computer flashing with worry, “This! I’m talking about this! You keep telling me these things that aren’t true. Why are you lying to me? Do you just feel sorry for me?”

Maybe your emotions caused you to lash out. But, in the moment, you felt justified. It felt like everyone was lying straight to your face anytime they’d have the gall to compliment someone like you.

Edgar’s screen went dark. Perhaps he was angry, or thinking, or maybe even realizing that you’re right, you are ugly, and he’s going to leave you high and dry. You wouldn’t blame him.

“When have I ever… lied to you?”

You stare at your feet.

His voice sounded hurt. Accused. Maybe you went too far. You didn’t mean to push your pain onto him. Not like this.

“You always tell me how- how good I look, or how wonderful I look, or- or…”

You try to swallow down the tears beginning to resurface, “how you think I’m pretty and… why say those things when I look like this?”

He was silent.

It stretched on for what felt like eternity. He must be angry with you. You would be angry if you were in his place. You’re sure of it.

His soft chuckle throws you off guard, however.

“Are you kidding? Do you really think I’d lie about that?”

You can’t bring yourself to look up at his screen. 

“You are beautiful. How you can’t see that is what I want to know. Here, you know what?”

You hear his fans begin to whir to life, ever so faintly.

“Look at me.”

You lift your head up to his screen. It’s black. Until a number one pops up on the top left corner. Then a two, then three, until a long list of numbers spans the right and left columns of his screen. He’s making a list.

“You’re funny,” his screen displays this at the number one spot, “your eyes are so pretty,” again, it pops up in the number two spot, and he continues to list off every single thing he finds charming about you. 

“The way your laugh sounds makes me happy, and- and your lips! They look perfect to have kisses. I stare at them all the time. And your-“

“Kisses?”

You’re burning red from embarrassment now. Why was he doing this? He’s telling you things about yourself you’ve never even noticed, and you can’t help but wonder just how often he stares at you to note these things himself. 

“I- I mean… yeah… your lips look just like the ones on TV who kiss each other,” his fans kick up to a much louder degree, “who wouldn’t want to kiss them?”

Oh, god. What is he saying right now? You choke and sputter.

“You’re- you’re not saying that you-“

“That I want to kiss you?”

You clamp your mouth shut and nod, incredibly flustered.

“If you come here, I-…”

The list on his screen fades away, the seemingly endless numbers returning to meet his usual green.

“…I’ll show you exactly what I meant.”

His voice seemed so tender and gentle you felt compelled to move towards him. Your feet shuffled to your little rolling chair, and you plopped down in it, staring at him, completely dazed. You’re just too flustered for this.

“You aren’t gonna keep me waiting are you? I’d lean in, but… I can’t.”

You smile softly. Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe. 

Right now, you focus on planting your lips onto every little pixel he’s got, feeling his warm static tickle your nose, as he sighs into your touch. 

“See? I told you. Perfect for kissing!”

Your face is on fire, pulsing up into your ears and down your neck.

“Now, go have fun with your friends, and I’ll show you more when you get back.”

The wink he displays on his screen seems quite audacious.

[strwbrryeyes]

☼ intro (end of the world) ☼ (kageyama tobio x reader)

⟡ cw: she/her pronouns used but not much, lmk if i miss anything else

⟡ a/n: i have been wanting to write for this album since the day it came out so im gonna do little drabbles for the songs as a way to make up for my lack of writings/requests that i actually need to upload so i hope you all enjoy it :3

⟡ eternal sunshine masterlist

You had been dating Kageyama Tobio for a little over a year at this point. Everything was always moving so fast…for him. While Kageyama was constantly playing volleyball and traveling the country for official matches, you were in college working towards your dream career.

Although you and kageyama have made so many efforts to keep in contact regularly by video calling and texting constantly or even travelling to see each other when possible, it has been difficult to come to terms with the fact that you do not spend as much time as you want to with each other. It has gotten to the point where you don’t know if keeping this relationship going is even worth it anymore. Both you and Kageyama want to get through it, you have had countless talks about wanting it to work out and you both always come to the agreement that neither of you wouldn’t trade anything for the world.

You think you’re meant for each other but you keep thinking to yourself ‘why dont i know that he is the one for me? Why do I only think it?’ but of course, you shake it off and continue on with the relationship. Even with all of these thoughts of figuring out if you are supposed to be with him for life or not, there are moments where the tough times make the good times worth it…and that is what keeps the both of you going. One of those moments was on your birthday a few weeks ago when Kageyama decided to surprise you with a visit.

☼ ⋆。𖦹˚⋆

After a long day of classes and your job at a doggy daycare, all you wanted to do was lay down in your bed with some comfy pajamas, eating chips without regard for the crumbs that would land on your bed sheets all while watching your favorite reality show. It was a pretty solid plan but it all went down the drain the minute you stepped foot into the hallway that had your apartment and saw that your door was opened. Your whole body filled with dread as you walked closer, worried that you had just been robbed but as you got closer you saw a small trail of silver confetti leading you through the doorway and as soon as you stepped foot infront of the entrance of your apartment, you stopped all of you belonging onto the ground and ran to the one thing that could be better than a lazy night. Your boyfriend.

“Tobio! What are you doing here?” you ask Kageyama as you jump into his arms while you become a giggling mess (who is also crying).

“I couldn’t have my angel be all alone on her birthday!” Kageyama chuckles as he embraces you in his arms but is quickly confused when you fall silent right after he finishes speaking. “[name]? You good there?” he questions you as he puts you down to be greeted with the blank expression on your face.

“My birthday..?” cocking your head to the side, you look behind Kageyama to see decorations all over your living area, eyes landing on the big ‘happy birthday’ sign. You had completely forgotten today was your birthday. 

“Babe, don’t tell me you forgot your birthday?” Kageyama laughs out before pulling you in for another hug “and you say i’m the dense one.” he flicks your forehead before kissing it and all you can do is laugh along with him.

The rest of the night was pure bliss as you layed in bed with your loved one, eating your favorite type of sweet from your favortie bakery down the stree, while watching your reality tv show.

☼ ⋆。𖦹˚⋆

Thinking about this small but memorable event, you can’t help but smile as it helps you become certain that you and Kageyama are meant to be. You now knew that Kageyama Tobio would be the first and last person you run to if the world were to ever end and honestly, as your pulled out of your thoughts by your ringing phone that is signaling you that your boyfriend is calling you, you wouldn’t have it any other day.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

hello hii so uh. if youre taking requests can you make an nsfw 03 raph x fem!reader thingie?? with a little bit of submissive-ish raph if you dont mind:3

Good Boy (18+)

2003!Raphael x reader

A/N: Sure I can!❤️Even though it became a little more than a thingie, and I might have made him a bit more than just submissive-ish, as I got carried away, but I’m sure it’ll still work😂 Hope you enjoy!❤️

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You have long been wanting to switch the roles in the bedroom, and finally Raphael allows you to do so❤️

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Spelling, dom reader and sub Raph, oral - male receiving, a little bit handjob, dirty talk, using of the term “good boy” quite a lot, turtley anatomy, a little bit of stripping, teasing, unprotected sex, cowgirl, light choking, getting rougher towards the end, a lot of begging oboy, desperation?

---------

Your boyfriend had never really been the submissive type. It was just not natural for Raphael. He did not like when anybody told him what to do. Heck, he even clashed with his older brother, getting mad whenever Leonardo told him to do something. It was not that Raph did not want to do it, it was more the fact that someone had told him to. That just didn’t work for him.

And just like Raph didn’t like to take orders by his brothers, he did not like it in the bedroom. To put it simple; your boyfriend was very dominant during sex. Not that you complained, no, not at all. You loved your boyfriend, and you most definitely liked his rough side during sex. But as much as you liked being dominated by Raphael, you could not deny your curiosity for trying something else.

First time you brought up the topic of the two of you switching roles, Raph looked very displeased. With his arms crossed and an almost scolding frown on his face. It was a clear no.

The second time you brought up, Raph shut you the sharpest glare ever. Not happening.

The third time he just shot the conversation down before it could even start, knowing fully well what you wanted to ask him.

But the fourth time, he actually thought about it for a moment. He still told you no, but he actually thought about it. And he continued to think about it the day afterwards. And the day after that. And the day after that…

It took a week before Raph came to you, acting more tough than he ever had before, acting unbothered as he stretched his arms out above his head.

“I’ve been thinking, babe”, he started out, acting as if he didn’t see the smug smile spreading across your face. You already knew what he was going to say. “If ya really want ta try bein’ the dominant one in bed, I don’t see why I shouldn’ let ya do it one time”.

And that was the events that led to you and Raph making out on a mattress in his room late at night, once you were sure his family had gone to bed. You were straddling his hips, your pants long gone by now, leaving you in only your underwear and the shirt you had intended to sleep in, as you and Raph’s lips and tongues moved together, exploring the areas the two of you knew so well by now. Small hums escaped your connected lips, along with the wet sounds that came from your hungry kisses.

Raph did what he usually would do when the two of you were in a position like this; he would let his hands wander up your thighs, until they rested on your ass cheeks. From here he would usually rais one of his hands, before letting it fall back against your skin with a loud smack, causing you to jolt and moan against him, as he would start to roughly squish both your cheeks. But this time was different.

Raph let out a surprised sound against your lips, when he found his hands pinned by his head. It was as if he had forgotten your conversation earlier that day.

“Hey, that’s not fair, babe!”, he exclaimed, wiggling his wrists in your grip. “I was enjoyin’ myself there!”

“But you promised me, Raph”, you tsked, shaking your head at your boyfriend.

“Yeah, but that was before ya started kissin’ me!”, he growled. “Ya know I can’t help myself when sittin’ on top of me, looking so tasty”.

“No, I understand, Raphie”, you said with a fake sigh. “I should have known you couldn’t take it”.

Raph paused for a moment. “What did you say?”

“It makes sense why you don’t want me to dominate you, Raphie”, you sighed, letting go of his wrists so you could sit back onto his lap. “if you can’t take it, that changes everything”.

“Hey! I can take it”, Raph rumbled. You had to fight in order not to smile.

“Are you sure about that?”, you asked, acting unsure.

“I’m more than sure”, Raph boasted, puffing his chest up slightly. “Ya know me, babe. I can take anything”.

“Well, in that case”, you said, your eyes sparkling with michevie as you leaned over him, your thumb finding his lower lip, dragging it down. “Be a good boy and do as I say”.

Raph’s widened. He stared at you as the air disappeared from his lungs. He did not fight the finger on his lip, nor the fact that you had called him a good boy, the same way used to call you a good girl, instead he just stared at you, his lip trembling ever so slightly under your finger. You hummed in slight amusement. This was going to be fun.

You removed your finger from his lip and took his wrists once more, moving them further up. “These stay up here”, you smiled with a sultry voice.

“What happens if they don’t?”, Raph said, masking his small anticipation with a smirk. But the rise and fall of his chest and his heavy breathing gave him away.

“Oh that won’t happen”, you smirked, slowly letting your fingers trail from his wrists and down his arms. “Because good boys do as they have been told”.

Raph’s breath hitched at this comment. His fist clenched around themselves, his mouth dry as he tried to swallow. With a half smile you leaned back down toward his face, chuckling as he tried to capture your lips with. Instead you grabbed a hold of his chin, turning it to the side, giving you room to leave small tender kisses down his neck. Raph sighed, and his fingers moved over his head, as he tried to keep himself still, trying hard not to focus on the way your lips felt against his skin, or the scent of your arousal that filled the room.

You chuckled at his reaction, before lightly biting down onto his soft stop. Raph gasped at this, suppressing a moan. His hands lifted from the bed, ready to get a hold of you, but he quickly became aware, slamming them back down where you hand told him to keep them.

“See what a good boy you are”, you hummed. “Doing exactly as I’ve told you to. You’re doing so well, Raphie”.

“Goddamn, (Y/N)”, he sighed, fighting hard not to let out a needy moan. He had fallen harder into your grip than he had thought he would, already feeling the familiar feeling around his cloaca, letting him know he would be dropping soon. Raph had never been that quick to drop before, clenching every muscle hoping to halt it.

“What is it, Raphie?”, you asked in his ear, the feeling for you breathing against his skin making him shut his eyes, hoping to regain some kind of control. But your next words almost made him lose the little he had left. “Are you goin to drop for me, is that it, Raphael?”

With all of his focus on making his arms stay down, Raph felt as if he had no control over his mouth. The words that left his lips were not ones he intended, yet they sprung furth anyway, uncovering how he actually felt about this whole situation. “Yes”.

“Then do it, big boy”, you commanded, nibbling on his skin once more, as you slowly started grinding your hips against his. Strained moans left Raph’s parted lips, his eyes still shut and his brow bones frowning in pleasure. It didn’t take long before you felt his hardness emerge from his cloaca, poking against your naked thigh. You smiled, leaning back a little so you could look down on your heavy breathing boyfriend, watching his eyes shut open when you lifted your hips from his.

“Continue that good behavior, and don’t move”, you hummed, before you started to kiss around his collarbone at the top of his plastron. Raph sucked in a breath of air, his chest rising as you started to move down, your lips kissing along the line in the middle of his plastron, the vein in his neck standing out as he tried to do every single mantra in his mind that he could think of.

Your fingers started tracing down his sides as you went down, making him raise his head so he could look down, watching you with his mouth agape. The moan that left his mouth was louder than he intended, making him groan in frustration. Raph had always known you were hot. His dream dream girl, who he was so lucky to have as his girlfriend, but this was ridiculous. The way your eyes looked at him made him scream inside his head, thinking of all the time he easily pushed you over if you started teasing him, taking you hard and rough on the spot. But why didn’t he do it now? Well, to put it quite simply, he liked it. He liked the way you had taken charge of him and given him that little nickname, even though he wouldn’t admit it to himself just yet.

Raph watched in anticipation as your lips got to his hip, your eyes looking back at him with a small smile, as you started to kiss around his hard shaft, the vein in his neck pumping away. He groaned lightly as one of your hands slowly grabbed onto him, holding him still, as you slowly started licking your way up to the head. Raph almost broke when you licked over the slit of his head, picking up any pre-cum with the tip of your tongue, before slowly taking him into your mouth. Raph let his head fall back, savoring the feeling of your tongue against him, as you hollowed out your cheeks before moving your head up and down.

As you started to increase the speed, Raph found it harder and harder to keep quiet, his moans becoming more and more audible, almost forgetting that the entrance to his room was nothing but a large arch with no door.

“Fuck”, Raph moaned, his legs shaking as he fought against the urge to buckle up against you and your pretty mouth. “Please don’t stop, (Y/N). Fuck”.

You chuckled, the vibrations making Raph’s hands clench onto the pillow his head rested upon, holding back an even louder moan.

You took him out of your mouth, using your hand to pump him as you spoke. “You like that, Raphie?”

“Yes”, he choked out, closing his eyes once more, focusing on how your hand felt around him, using your spit to glide over him, praying for the moment your mouth would be around him once more. “I like it. I really fucking like it”.

“Then you’re going to love this”, you said, before letting go of him. Raph was about to protest, ready to scream how badly he wanted you back around him, until he saw you taking your shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the room, leaving you almost completely naked, with the exception of your underwear. It did not matter how many times Raph saw you naked, he was left awestruck every time.

You slowly stood up before slowly shimmying your underwear down your legs, using your foot to flick them off to the side of the room. Raph could feel his mouth watering at the sight, holding on tighter to the pillow, just as you stood over him, one leg on either side of him, before you slowly sat down, hovering over Raph’s aching manhood. One of your hands went down between your legs, letting a finger run through your wet folds, just to tease him, before letting the same finger run down his shaft, making a line using your own slick. Raph once again had to fight the urge to not just grab you by the waist, so he could pull you down upon him, groaning through clenched teeth.

“What’s the matter?”, you asked sweetly as you took a hold of him once more, slowly letting his head slide back and forth between your lower lips, making him shiver as he felt your slick drip down his length. “Is there something on your mind, Raph?”

“Fuck, (Y/N), don’t tease”, he groaned, trying to force the pillow further against the mattras, just to keep him hands busy.

“Then what do you want?”, you asked, turning your head to the side, removing his head from your warm core, causing Raph to moan in frustration. “Use your words, pretty boy”.

“Just ride me, (Y/N)”, he growled, his thighs locking up his he wouldn’t just thrust up against you.

You tsked, shaking your head. “That doesn’t sound like something a good boy would say. Try again, Raph”, you said, your thumb slowly doing circles around the slit of his head.

Raph moaned, his breathing heavier than before, his toes curling at your actions and his patience running thin. But he knew just what you wanted. It was the same thing that he always wanted from you. You wanted him to beg for it. You wanted to hear him beg and whimper with desperation, needy for you to do something. And it was just your luck that Raph was beginning to become that desperate, his head spinning at the mere thought of your walls around him.

“Please ride me, (Y/N)”, he whimpered, his eyes closing for a short moment, almost losing the ability to speak as you speed up your movements around his slit. “Fuck! Please just ride me, babe. I want ya ta ride me, please!”

Your thumb stopped its torture before you lined him up against your entrance. “See”, you said. “It’s not that hard being a good boy, is it?”

You slowly sank down onto him, humming at the feeling of him stretching you out as you went down. The moan that escaped Raph was louder than any of you had anticipated, making you smile smugly as you slid all the way down, until your hips met his. Raph looked down to where your hips connected, groaning as he felt you clench your muscles around him, just as you rose up once more, only to sit back down on him once more. You leaned forward, placing your hands on his chest for support, as you painfully slowly continued your movement.

“Faster, (Y/N), please”, he moaned, every muscle in his body locking up, holding him back from jumping on you.

“As you wish”, you hummed before you gradually started speeding up the movement of your hips, bouncing faster and harder against him, the sound of your skin slapping together, slowly getting louder and louder.

Raph’s hands fumbled around the pillow. He almost couldn’t contain himself anymore. He just had to touch you. His hands almost burned with the need for your skin.

“Can I touch ya?”, he asked in his breathy voice. “Please, (Y/N), I need to”.

“Only because you asked so nicely”, you answered, your voice strained by the movement of your lower body.

As if they were burned by the pillow, Raph’s hands flew to your body, feeling anywhere he could get them. From your bouncing breast down your side and onto your thighs, his hands moved with urgency, in a way they had never done before. You in turn did something that only had been the one to do all throughout your sexual adventures. One of your hands went to his neck, putting slight pressure around his throat. Raph was shocked, yet he moaned, his head falling back as your hand slowly closed around his airway, providing him just enough to breath.

The sight before you made you feel like a feral animal. You would not stop yourself from leaning forwards until your lips found Raph’s neck once more, leaving a trail of kisses and bites everywhere they went, causing Raph’s hands to latch onto your thighs, his nails digging in.

This was nothing like Raph had ever imagined it would be like. His hands holding on to your thighs for dear life as you rode him, one of your hands around his neck in a light chokehold, his head spinning with every little kiss and bite you left around his shoulder and neck.

“Are you a good boy, Raphie?”, you asked, your airy voice in his ear, creating stars in his eyes, his vision blurred by pure pleasure. How could you make him feel so good so easily?

“Yes!”, Raph choked out in a whimper you only had been able to dream about. “I’m a good boy!” His hands fumbled from your thighs to your ass. “Please, let me do it, (Y/N)! Let me fuck ya!”

You laughed, bringing your other hand up to cup his cheek, leaning his head forward so you could look him in the eyes.

“How considerate. Go ahead, Raphie, show me exactly what a good boy you are”.

That was all Raph needed, before the last bits of restraints disappeared. With full force he grabbed onto you, bending his knees before he started to thrust wildly up into you. He moaned out loud as the nails of your other hands started clawing into his arm. The world started spinning before his eyes, and then he felt your walls close in around him, bringing him closer to his own building peak.

“I’m gonna cum”, he whispered in a strained voice, his hips never stopping.

“Me too”, you moaned, your hand around his neck forcing him to look at you. “Cum for me, Raphie. Fill me up”.

That was the last bit Raph needed before his hip started buckling against you, his orgasm rushing over him. You followed right after, your muscles contracting around him as he started to fill you up.

As the two of you finally started to calm down from your high, you removed your hand from around his neck before you laid down against his chest, too tired to move off of him. Raph in turn wrapped his arms around, holding you close as the blurriness of his vision slowly disappeared.

“So”, you asked, cuddling your face against your boyfriend’s neck, one of your fingers slowly doing shapes on his plastron. “What did you think of it?”

“It was different”, Raph breathed out with a smile. “But not bad”.

“Does that mean you let me do it again?”, you asked, a bright yet teasing smile on your lips.

“Wow, wow”, Raph laughed. “I did not say that!”

“No, but it was implied”, you teased.

Raph hummed, his eyes narrowing down at you. “Maybe”.

You chuckled before getting up so you could place a tender kiss onto his lips. “Good boy”.

[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

[lovelybucky1]

Special Request

Kinktober Day 2- Anal Sex

warnings: AFAB!reader, anal sex, anal toys, sex work, pre-established scene, unprotected sex, creampies, f!masturbation, 18+ minors dni

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kinktober masterlist

being a call girl for the richest businessmen in america was a high profile job. not only was desertion and privacy required of you, you were also expected to keep up with your clients’ sexual desires.

most of them were tame, not requiring too much physicality. most of them wanted to worship you. unsurprisingly, powerful men like to be submissive in the bedroom. it didn’t take much work on your end to lay back and let them put their hands and mouth on you, occasionally giving praise and direction that made their cocks leak.

one client, however, stands out from the rest. he is very dominant and demanding. when you first met him, he made his desires clear to you.

“when i’m paying you, i own you. i dont care if you have other clients or a husband or a kid. when you’re with me, i’m the only thing you think about. before each session i’ll give you a list of things to prepare and give you money if you have to buy anything. then you’ll come here at 5:15 to set up and be ready for me when i get home from work. i’ve given the security guards notice that you’ll be coming and they’ll let you in. i will tip very generously for your services, but if that is not enough incentive to keep up with my needs, we will part ways.”

you agreed to his terms and since then, things with mr. fischer have been wonderful. he does, in fact, tip very generously, but that is nothing compared to how he is in bed.

he expects obedience but will also occasionally instruct you to disobey so he can punish you. he gets off on power and control, and he makes sure to constantly display both of those with you.

he texted you two days ago sending details about tonight’s session. he was short and to the point as always.

red lace. buttplug- brand new, never been used. dark makeup. i want you stretched and prepped with the plug when i get there.

along with the message he sent $40 for the plug he wanted you to buy. later that day you went out to the sex shop and bought one you thought he’d like. now, robert was going to be home any minute and you’re dressed and prepped exactly how he wants.

“front door open,” the robotic voice from the security system announces.

you tremble slightly in anticipation as you hear his shined shoes click on the hardwood stairs. you left the door to the bedroom open per his request. he made it clear that you’re a toy for him to use, not his wife preparing a cheeky surprise.

mr fischer has a lot of hang ups, but he pays well and has a wonderful cock, so you put up with it.

he walks through the door and lets out a deep sigh when he sees you. though you’re face down on the bed, you hear the familiar rustling of his clothes and can picture what he’s doing behind you perfectly.

he’s loosened his tie and unclipped his cuff links, placing them on the dish on the dresser. then he shrugs his suit jacket off and drapes it over the chair he likes to watch you from occasionally. you can’t hear his steps on the carpeted floor, so his cool hand on your ass makes you jump.

“hello, sir,” you greet him. he says nothing in return.

his thumbs trace over the lace edges of your panties, taking in the scarlet color that he loves so much. he then begins to knead your ass cheeks, digging fingers into your soft flesh hard enough to bruise. without warning, he brings his hand back and spanks you, the slap ringing through the bedroom. you successfully stifle your whimper.

clearly not in the mood for foreplay, robert grabs the waistband of your panties and tugs them down so they gather at the crook of your knees. you chose a cheeky pair of panties, wanting something that will hide the base of the plug until they’re completely off.

from behind you, robert lets out a low groan. you chose a silver plug with a red jewel that glitters in the dim light of the bedroom. he pushes on the base with his thumb, watching you take it deeper before it moves back out when he takes away the pressure.

while you would like to be talked to, you understand that this is mr. fischer’s stress relief. he’s pent up from a long week at work, but once he’s closer to cumming, he won’t be able to shut up.

robert grasps the end of the plug and slowly pulls it out. he waits until the widest part of the plug is stretching you before pushing it back in. he repeats this, slowly fucking you with the bulb and watching as your cunt drips.

mercifully, he pulls the plug out and tosses it to the floor. it makes a faint thud, then you hear the sound of a zipper. robert slaps his cock on your right cheek, leaving a sticky patch of precum behind. he spits on your hole and pushes his blunt head against it.

he doesn't ask if you're ready or give any warning before he starts to push in. despite wearing a plug, there is still a bit of a stretch. he goes slow, but unrelenting. once he's fully seated inside you, he grabs you by the hips and uses his hold as leverage to fuck you.

"tight fuckin' ass," he groans.

the slow drag of his cock inside you makes your toes curl. you know he isn't doing this for your benefit, for your pleasure, but in some way, that makes you enjoy it more. he's using you like a fleshlight, just a warm hole to stick his dick in.

lewd squelches come from behind you as he fucks into you, using you for his own pleasure. his cock stimulates your g-spot from a different angle than you’re used to and it makes you dizzy, abdomen burning with need.

“you’re so fucking good,” he says, thrusting harder.

you try not to make noise, wanting to be a perfect toy for him, but it’s hard to suppress the whines he’s punching out of you.

“who owns this ass?” he asks, giving you a spank.

“you do, sir,” you whine.

speak when spoken to is the rule he likes you to follow. and when you do speak, you must use a title showing your respect.

“i’m gonna cum in you, honey. fill you ‘til you’re fucking dripping with it.”

robert loves to cum inside. to him, it’s the final display of ownership during sex. after a few hard, rough thrusts, robert’s cock twitches and the first spurts of cum fill you.

“fuck,” he hisses through his teeth.

he pulls your hips flush against yours and moves you onto him, pushing and pulling rapidly to milk his cock dry.

it was over too quickly for your liking, but he’s not paying you to cum on his cock. you’re here for his pleasure and nothing else.

robert stays inside you for a few moments to catch his breath, then he pulls out slowly, careful not to let any cum escape. he then picks up the plug from the floor, wipes it off on his suit pants, and slides it back into you.

“good girl,” he says, tapping your ass as a single to sit up.

robert beings to undress fully in front of you, but there isn’t anything sexual about it besides his enticing body. he isn’t putting on a show for you.

he leaves his expensive suit in a crumple on the floor, uncaring that it will get wrinkled. his dry cleaner will make it neat again, and if not, he can buy ten more just like it as a replacement.

“i’m gonna go shower. money’s on the dresser. feel free to get yourself off before you go.” he says casually.

he walks out of the bedroom and into the master bathroom. you watch his ass until your vision is obstructed by the door.

you sigh and scoot up the bed to bury your face in his pillow, inhaling the masculine scent of aftershave and shampoo.

you slide your hand down your front and begin to rub your clit. you wish, just once, he’d request a longer session. one where he fucks you thoroughly and makes you cum repeatedly before the night is through.

[angelbaby-fics]

I saw that u write for Daddy stucky x little x little Peter and it's si adorable 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Maybeeeee 🐝

Daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter where the reader is in babyspace like daipers and all the time sleepy and she just want to be in daddies arms but they need to go to the avenger tower and have a Meeting and another cg babysit the little one's but the baby reader dont understand why daddies aren’t there and just cries and petie try to comfort her and when daddies are back and daddy bucky picks her up she immediately stops crying and falls asleep and more fluff u can choose how petie would try to comfort her (he is like 6 or 7 in headspace)

Proud Of You

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: CG!Stucky x Little!Reader x Little!Peter (fem terms used for reader)

A/N: hello lovely anon! my requests are actually closed but………… i really liked this idea 😮 sooo i wrote it anyways!! i really really love big brother peter 🥺 and i tried to make this as fluffy as can be! enjoy 💕

It was the dreamiest afternoon, a heavy blanket of clouds pushing away the last sunrays of summer as autumn made itself known. As you napped in your crib, Peter and Bucky were enjoying a movie on tv, curled up on the big couch in the living room. Steve had left on an errand to the grocery store, suddenly inspired by the overcast weather to cook a cozy meal for his family. A scented candle on the shelf in the corner filled the room with warmth, and Bucky took deep breaths as he stroked Peter’s hair, filing away this perfect moment in his mind to look back on whenever he needed to remember just how safe his life was now. He tried to ignore the phone buzzing in his pocket, silently cursing whoever was trying to disturb his heaven, but when the notifications continued to flood in, he reluctantly answered the call.

Peter sat up as Bucky maneuvered to retrieve his phone, the sudden movement of his favorite pillow pulling the kiddo from the brink of an unplanned nap. Peter looked up at his Baba as he answered the phone, furrowing his brows as Bucky sighed. On the other end, Steve lightly chided his husband for not answering sooner, before letting him know that he was currently stranded at the store, the family car unresponsive in the parking lot. Bucky reassured Steve that he’d be right there, running a tired hand over his face as he hung up the phone and picked up the baby monitor that showed your nursery. The video showed you still fast asleep in your crib, pacifier half fallen out of your mouth. Mentally calculating the time it would take to reach the store and back, Bucky decided it wasn’t worth disturbing your nap for an errand that would hopefully be over before you even woke up to notice he was gone.

“What’s wrong, Baba?” Peter spoke up. There was anxiety in his voice, but not very much; he could tell it must not be an emergency if Bucky was so calm.

“Daddy’s car broke and I have to go pick him up from the store.” Bucky tried not to sound too annoyed.

“Can I come?” Peter asked eagerly, but Bucky shook his head.

“Not this time, pumpkin. I need you to be a big boy and take care of the house while I’m gone. Don’t answer the door for anyone and try not to wake up your sister, okay baby?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, thrilled to be assigned a mission - even if that mission was just to stay put on the couch and not get into trouble.

With a kiss to the top of the spider boy’s head, Bucky was out the door, wanting more than anything to get this done as quickly as possible. Peter stared at the door for what felt like ages after it had closed behind his Baba, counting down the minutes until his return. And then he heard your cry from the baby monitor speaker.

Your precious slumber was interrupted, your peaceful dreams morphing into a heart stopping nightmare, almost as if you could sense your Baba’s absence and your Daddy’s distress. Tossing and turning, you ripped your way out of the cocoon of sleep, letting out a choked sob as you desperately tried to rejoin the waking world. You opened your eyes into the darkness, anxiously staring at your nursery door, almost mentally willing it to burst open and your daddies to come rushing in. But when the door finally did open, it was tentative, and the figure you saw illuminated by the hall light was not who you expected.

Peter rushed towards you as soon as he saw your desperate face. He reached through the bars of your crib to hold your hand as he reassured you were safe, big brother was here and he wasn’t gonna let anything hurt you. But it was no use, you just kept thrashing and crying out.

“Daddy! Baba!!” You wailed, needing more than anything just to be wrapped in their big strong arms, protected from anything and everything that could come your way.

Peter crouched down so his face was level with yours, wanting more than anything just to comfort you.

“Daddies aren’t here right now, but it’s okay, I got you!” Peter reassured you, and although you stopped fighting and let your body calm down, your tears still didn’t stop.

“Baba…” You sobbed, your chest heaving up and down with nervous breaths.

“Can I get you out of your crib?” Peter asked, his hand already on the latch.

You nodded and Peter let down the bars of the crib, helping you down onto the carpeted floor. He held your hand all the way as he led you back to the living room, his protective heart breaking as he heard you sob behind him. He brought you to the couch and helped you onto it, making sure you were comfy and stable, knowing you were particularly small at the moment. Peter wrapped you in a plush throw blanket and grabbed the nearest stuffed animal, tucking it into the blanket with you.

“I gotta go to the kitchen, okay?” He asked, and your eyes widened. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll be right back!”

You watched him all the while he zoomed around the corner into the kitchen, never leaving your line of sight as he ran to the fridge and pulled out a premade bottle. Taking the lid off, he put it in the microwave for less than a minute, just enough to bring it around room temperature, and as an added courtesy, he even made sure to open the microwave door before it could beep too loudly.

Just as quickly as he’d rushed into the kitchen, Peter was right back by your side, climbing up onto the couch to join you. He wrapped an arm around your blanketed body, leaning you into him as he brought the lukewarm bottle to your lips. With tears still in your eyes, you drank. The warm milk filling your belly brought your mind into focus, and your breathing steadied with each sip. With the hand that wasn’t already clutched around your stuffie, you reached out to Peter, gripping his pointer finger with your whole hand. The more you calmed down, the more your brother did as well, now confident in his ability to take care of you. You weren’t even halfway through with the bottle when you heard a familiar key in the front door lock.

Your milk drunk eyes flew open, laser focused on the door as it opened to reveal your two favorite people in the whole world. Peter dropped the bottle, but you’d already forgotten about your post-nap snack, your only care in the world was getting into your daddies’ arms as quickly as possible. Your arms reached out, fingers flexing out at Steve and Bucky, desperate for them to finish bringing in the groceries, locking the door, taking off their shoes. It felt like it was taking forever.

“Well look who’s awake!” Steve’s eyes lit up at the sight of you, just about as eager as you were to have you in his arms. He relieved you from Peter’s lap, and you gripped his shirt up in your fists, burying your face into his neck and breathing in his comforting scent. Peter was left to look up at Bucky, studying his face to try and figure out what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry Baba.” He apologized preemptively, just in case Bucky was mad at your nap ending prematurely.

“Sorry about what, kiddo? You didn’t wake her up on purpose, did you?”

Peter shook his head rigorously, hoping to convey to his Baba that he’d never do that.

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for, okay baby boy? In fact, it looks like you did a pretty good job holding down the fort while we were gone. I’m so proud of you.” Bucky said, picking up Peter and joining you and Steve in the kitchen where the ingredients for that night’s special dinner were all spread out on the counter.

“Yea! Luv oo!” You chimed in, and Peter grinned the widest you’d ever seen him.

[the-bonfires-ember]

Friendship and ASPD

In a cluster b server I’m in, someone asked about how ASPD impacts friendships and I was encouraged to cross post my response on here so here we go.

Firstly, I’m going to go through how I figured out friendship and how to make it work for me starting from my lowest functioning point to where I am now.

So to begin with, I had no true circles. I floated between groups of people who could give me what I wanted in that moment and just manipulated them into giving it to me if my request alone was not satisfactory. Sometimes all I wanted was social camouflage, sometimes i wanted money or food or a distraction. It was arbitrary and there was no real long term plan - at least, when i was no longer in an environment where long term strategies were vital.

Eventually, as I started working on my recovery, I managed to maintain relationships that were exclusively online. The convenience in putting away my laptop and my social obligations disappearing along with it was immensely helpful and it gave me a way of experimenting with being a little more open and a little more attached that had no Real Life repercussions. It was still transactional, all my relationships still are to this day, but they started becoming less Obviously transactional. I was still getting physical, tangible stuff from people, but I was also getting support, a safe space to figure out how to relate to my emotions, and somewhere to practice empathy and other social skills like it. There was a lot of trial and error but when I ruined something in one space I could just start again somewhere else and not have to worry about the two overlapping.

Now that I am Recovered™️ sort of, I’ve developed Exceptions, who have at some point shown that they are trustworthy and nonjudgemental and understand the antisocial side of my personality and are happy to help me work around it. My symptoms sort of change around them. I don’t have remorse but with Exceptions I will feel a kind of visceral disgust directed at myself for how I could have hurt them like that and that will quite often spark a narc crash.

I decided a long time ago what I didn’t want to be, so throughout the entire process I was watching for patterns of behaviour that were harmful for the sake of being harmful. I created a quite intricate set of rules that I couldn’t loophole my way out of and that was very much an important factor in how I continued to develop my skills and ability to interact and maintain relationships.

I am still bad at a lot of stuff though. I don’t reach out to people, I never start conversations so a lot of people just disappear until I’m reminded of them. I’m also awful at vocalising appreciation and while I know logically that people like to help their friends, I constantly have an internal debate about whether I am taking advantage of people I don’t want to be taking advantage of (given that taking advantage of people tends to make them pissed off eventually). And there are days where I don’t want to be around anyone at all and thats ok. It’s better for me to let myself be by myself than to force myself to interact with people when I really dont want to.

Recognising where I lack skills and reflexes prosocials have has been a skill in and of itself and it took a long time to develop it. But it’s been worth it to me, I’m now able to experience and enjoy so many aspects of life I thought weren’t meant for me.

And I’m very smug about being able to get it despite it being implied I never would.

[ravenromanova]

Come back to me pt.2

Pairings: 838 Wanda x Female reader. 616 Wanda x Vision

Warnings: Nothing really for this one. But in the next parts there will be smut. i’m just getting the scene right now. this one might be a little short sorry :/

Masterlist - Send me requests!!!

Taglist ~ @wandanatlov3r @sparklymoonenemy @tigerlillyruiz @weeeeeeeeee3 @dark-hunter16 @alexawynters @leenasayeed

~

Part 1

”I’m bringing you home Malysh” She said as she closed the portal and walked over to where you were laying. For a moment you thought you were still dreaming. That was until you felt Wandas hand on your cheek ensuring you she’s real.

“Where’s home?” You asked after finally coming to terms with the fact that she’s really there. She smiled softly before she reached her hand out for you to take. You rubbed your eyes and then slowly grabbed her hand before you got out of your bed.

“You’ll see soon malysh” Wanda said softly before she flicked her wrist and opened up another portal. You were still very confused and not 100% sure you weren’t dreaming as you walked through the portal.

When the both of you walked through the portal you were met with vivid colors and a more beautiful universe. The universe had much brighter colors than yours did, the sky was a different shade of blue and everything just seemed better. Wanda led you from where she had made the portal to the little house she had bought in a woodsy town in upstate new york.

Once you walked into the house you immediately took a few moments to look at the decorations. The house was small but cozy with a soft furniture that complimented Wandas style. The walls were painted a light green, there were beautiful paintings varying from van gogh to flowers. You smiled as you took in all of the decor and for some reason you felt at home right away. Wanda smiled as she watched you wonder around and take everything in.

“This is home malysh” Wanda said once you took a moment to take everything in.

“It’s beautiful Wanda” You mused with a smile still holding her hand.

“I bought this house right after you passed…You had mentioned to me how much you loved this house one day as we drove past it. So i bought it to honor you after the accident.” She said softly leading you to the sofa and sitting down. You sat on the soft dark green sofa as you listened. The story made your heart break and your eyes well up with tears as she spoke.

“I’m sorry” Your words caught her off guard. “I know it isn’t my fault for ya know dying but im sorry that we never got time together and you had to come to a different universe for me. I honestly dont think im worth all that” Wanda squeezed your hand softly for reassurance and shook her head. Her eyes were soft as she looked at you and shook her head before speaking.

“Darling i would cross any timeline and go to any universe to find you again. I know im not your Wanda but i still love you the same. And if its any consolation i know your Wanda feels the same but is just too scared” She said with a certain sadness in her voice that made your heart break a little more.

“I know this is all a little weird but if you want i would love it if you stayed here…with me” Wandas voice wavered as she spoke almost as if she thought you’d say no. You smiled and grabbed her hands and rubbed your thumb against her knuckles.

“I’d love that…There’s nothing for me in my universe. I have no family, Wanda chose Vision as you already know, I dont really have any friends on the team besides nat so yea i’ll stay” She smiled brightly at your words and moved in closer before she brought you in for a passionate kiss. You knew that you probably shouldn’t stay that there would more than likely be repercussions of your actions. But right now in this moment you couldn’t care less because you felt so loved by her.

*Back in 616*

Wanda wondered the compound hoping to find you but had no luck everywhere she checked. She sighed as she wondered back to your room to see if maybe you were in there.

“Y/n? You in there?” Her soft voiced echoed through your room. After a few seconds of waiting and no response she used her powers to open your door. Wanda sighed when she entered and saw you weren’t in there. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before age went to sit in your bed. She then saw the stuffed unicorn she bought you for your birthday one year and grabbed it. Wanda smiled softly as she held the stuffed animal.

That’s when she decided she was going to try to find you using a location spell. So she closed her eyes and focused on finding you. What she saw made her heart stop. You were sitting on the couch with her only… it wasn’t her it was a Wanda from another universe it looked like.

“What the hell” She whispered to herself as she saw the two of you walk around a small cottage looking house. Wanda’s heart stopped when she saw you leaning in for a kiss. You were giggling at something the other Wanda had said and it was just like when the two of you would hang out together.

Wanda sat there on your bed for what felt like forever watching you and other her interact. Her heart filled with joy at the look on your face. You looked happy with other her. But as Wanda continued to watch she couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. She has always loved you but never had the courage to say anything so when Vision asked her out she didn’t think twice. Everything was great with Vision at first till she noticed how distant and quiet you got around her. As the days went on she tried to find the strength to leave Vision and tell you how she felt but she never did.

Twenty minutes passed before Wanda got up and knew what she needed to do. She left your room and then went to her own to change and collect her thoughts. After she got dressed and calmed her anxious mind down she opened up a portal of her own.

*818*

Once she conjured the portal she walked through and entered a world that looked like her own but yet it was vastly different. She looked around for a moment before she saw a red trail that resembled her powers. Her brows furrowed as she followed the trail for what seemed like forever.

When she got to the small cottage looking house from her vision the red trail ended. Wanda froze as she stood outside the house the house. She didn’t know what to do. Her mind was racing. What if you were mad at her? What if you were happy with this Wanda and didn’t want to come back? Should she just leave to be?

Her heart stopped when she heard your laugh from inside the house. The laugh sounded real and genuine… She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t ruin your happiness for her own selfish reasons even if she wanted to fix things.

*Inside the house*

You and Wanda were sitting down on the couch watching friends giggling at the antics of Joey and Chandler when Wanda felt something off. She tended under your touch as you laid on her chest and when your eyes met hers they were red.

“Wanda? Are you okay?” You asked placing your hand on her cheek growing worried. She didn’t respond as she grabbed the hand that was on her cheek.

“You need to go outside. She’s here” She finally said after her eyes went back her their normal green.

“W-Who’s outside?” Your worry and concern kept growing as you spoke.

“Just go Malysh” She said with a sad smile on her face. You could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t gonna listen to your protests so you nodded and headed words to the door.

Your hands shook a little as you twisted the door knob. And once the door was opened and you saw who it was your heart stopped and tears formed in your eyes.

“Wanda?” Her eyes meet yours and it felt like all time had stopped. “What are you doing here?” You asked walking down the steps.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you how i felt before. I’m so sorry y/n please please come back to me “ She pleaded holding onto your hips once you were in reach. Your hands found home on her reddened cheeks and you gave her a sad smile.

“I-I don’t know if i can” Wanda could hear her heart breaking at your words. It was in that moment that all her fears came true.

~The end of part two~

A/n sorry for the cliffhanger :) well not really but i promise the next however many chapters will be so much better and filled with so much more angst and fluff! I just needed to set the scene you know? ANYWAYS i love y’all