#i dont understand how tags work did i do it right
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Hello radfem tumblr!
I don’t know how to use tumblr, I just hate twitter a lot and I’m kind of a public figure and I need to breathe so I came here !!
I’m 21, an activist and a communist. I’ve been getting into radical feminism lately because I am sick and tired of men and «non-binary» males taking over socialist and historically feminist spaces and turning them into liberal, choice feminist movements, and excluding women in the process.
After reading more works by women I’ve come to realize that men in general care way more about being perceived as intelligent than actually saying or doing something intelligent, and it pissed me off.
I think men’s incapability (or decision not) to use empathy and put their ego aside makes them completely incompetent in any position they might have in an anti-capitalist movement. The level of unwillingness to cooperate with women, and complete ignorance of what consequences it provably causes makes me want to rip all my hair out!
Like the amount of times I’ve seen socialist men behave in wildly unstrategic ways, just to let a woman get all the shit for it is unbelievable. In addition to the fact that they take all the credit when women do all the hard and amazing work.
I am in a position where I cannot just leave and not deal with it, but I really want to be anonymous so I can’t give more context of what I’m doing hehe. At least I am able to make good female networks and work with amazing revolutionary women of all generations almost daily, it does make it so worth it <3
This was just a rant and not really an introduction but whatever it needed to be said and it’s the reason I’m here.
I wonder if any of you are organized irl and if so what kind of activities are you doing, and if not then what you would like to do?
#radblr#radical feminism#radical feminists do interact#radical feminists please touch#radical feminst#marxist feminism#i dont understand how tags work did i do it right
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I hate that I have reoccurring themes in everything I make. YES this guy has a complex over the fact that everyone prefers his sibling AGAIN. YES he was ostracized by his peers since he was in primary school and never knew why until years later. URGH
#i dont know why the siblings thing ends up coming up as often as it does (read: i know exactly why) but uuurggh#do you ever. have an inside joke with your sibling that your abusive dad prefers you over them and it's so established it's casual banter#but everyone you've ever tried to be sincere with (your mother; your peers) have consistantly preferred your sibling over you#even your own friends and kids who were closer to your age range than theirs#do you ever have a conversation with your best friend where they tell you that at first they didn't want to be friends with you#because you were ''too Weird''#do you ever get praised by a friend who says she envied you in middle school because you ''never cared about being different''#meanwhile you had no idea you were different and just couldn't fucking fix it#it took me that to understand that people avoided me because i was Weird. i thought the reason i had no friends was bc i was shy#that and the fact that i Didnt Know What Was Socially Acceptable Or Not and other kids were scared of me bc i was ''to blunt''#i have learned to value honesty over nearly everything else but that's only because i wish everyone else did the same.#literally everything i write has a main protagonist with low to no emotional empathy. like. ok#every character i write has that thing where they always felt like they were a monster for not feeling the right things. mh#i wonder how that might reflect on how my whole world came crashing down once i realised emotional empathy is A Real Thing#and not just a lie people made up for virtue signaling#''there's no way people /literally/ feel sad /for/ other people. they just know rationally that it's bad'' deep sigh.#anyway thats why i will never shut up about the fact that empathy is morally neutral and not a prerequisite for being a ''''good person''''#emotions are morally neutral. thats why we say all emotions are valid. thats why thought crimes aren't real#in short: you will pry human!au no empathy janus and autistic remus from my cold dead hands#i have. so many fucking thoughts.#janus is literally JUST like ME for REAL#except for the lying mostly because i !!! taught myself out of that#THE AMOUNT OF WORK I HAVE DONE ON MYSELF. I HAVE CLAWED MY WAY OUT OF THE TRENCHES OF MENTAL ILLNESS ON MY OWN AND I AM PROUD OF THAT#MAYBE it's because i can never open up to anyone ever BUT it's also because im SKILLED and SWAG and SELF-AWARE and THE BEST EVER. and MODEST#rant#the tag rambler strikes again . apologies
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a friend who'd wait :)
#im posting this very late because i was sort of weary of how it came out and ended up messing w it until it was like 4am oops.#and i have plans tmrw so... oh well! i did my best and ill put it out while i can!#and i tried to make the scene match barnard's colors lol#finn's ocs#finn's art#i know i said id do more sillay stuff with the simpler screentone only style but i had a couple more of these in me#and this is the first piece im making thats like an actual part of the story too rather than just setting stuff for fun#i wanna write something to go with it too but for now ill just sort of briefly explain the context in the tags here:#barnard has a pretty bad case of OCD and his compulsions have made it difficult to make friends in the past#he was never outright bullied or anything but people just didnt really have the patience to deal with it#he has compulsions that include stuff like walking through doors until it feels right and needing things to be perfectly aligned#which in group settings has lead to people having to wait for him to finish his rituals and join them#they might find it tolerable at first but eventually they grow impatient and hes just... not invited to stuff anymore#but juno is a newer member of the guild who ends up frequenting the same library. hes also kinda a little weird#and they dont become fast friends or anything but just sort of naturally spend time in the same place#though they never plan meetups they eventually fall into a routine. around the same time theyd just both be at the library#and read next to each other. and maybe talk a bit. and eventually they end up walking back to the guildhall together#since theyre going to the same place after all. and juno always waits for barnard outside the door#eventually barnard asks if this bothers him. juno kinda just tells him 'of course it does' without any malice or anything. just a statement#barnard is surprised and apologizes and juno says not to. but the next day juno doesnt show up at the usual time.#barnard assumes hes committed somekinda more by bringing it up. he ends up staying there late reading to get his mind off it & not ruminate#but when he leaves juno is in fact still waiting for him down the hall (see pic) having collected a bunch of books literally abt ocd#he fell asleep bc barnard stayed later than expected. and hes an eepy guy generally. and also one very bad at expressing himself#but now barnard gets that juno's 'of course it [bothers me]' had the implication of 'but its worth it' which no friend has previously done.#and from the interaction juno was also able to understand that this isn't something barnard just does for the hell of it so. he studies.#and checks a bunch of stuff out because he thinks it could help his friend too (theres ocd workbooks and such- i remember working w them)#and thats the point where they became more ''friends'' than ''pleasant library acquaintances''#from there on they also do get into juno's problems. whole other bag of worms. but this specific scene is more about bernard from his pov#sorry about when i said briefly explain. i lied </3#but compared to the whole sequence im picturing its brief so shhh
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now some people may not like to hear it but even the worst people who exist are still people & there is no human being who has More right than others to decide whether others deserve to live or die (does not mean i personally condemn murder in self defense or anything of the sort or killing fascists or whatever i'm just saying as a baseline This Is How it Is) & this is why the death penalty is not a good thing no matter how good & trustworthy the people in any government might be. people on average also deserve the chance to learn to do better. & no, someone who's been forcefed propaganda their entire life will not let go of that deeply entrenched mindset so easily, it's not particularly unrealistic & it absolutely sucks to deal with but in the context of tangibly working toward world peace it's also not an issue to try & help such people both in material ways & in helping them learn better rather than cut them down or abandon them to a grim fate. all this to say that's why i don't think garlemald is written badly, as unpleasant as the experience might be. walks off the stage
#ffposting#also if you hate garlemald's writing THIS much but like emet-selch i think theres a disconnect there i just dont understand.#like he made it that way. you do understand this is all because of him right. maybe you should be more upset about that.#garlemald is very uncomfortable & the real life parallels it draws make it a very very touchy Thing to deal with#but i do not think it is handled badly.#their supremacy is entirely gone by the time of edw the people there have known nothing but propaganda#the populares are known to be a minority. people like cid or jenomis aren't that common. this is why they get along#the propaganda is such that even occupied domans like asahi fell for it & feel absolutely nothing for their kin#thats what propaganda does. there is absolutely a degree of responsibility regarding what they do & i would never say otherwise#however the idea that we should let them die & not get a chance to rebuild after theyve lost everything (again) is like. huh.#when you want to work toward world peace in a meaningful way you cant just abandon anyone like that.#like thats a whole people. they suck! but it is not immutable & they deserve the opportunity to do better like any other#id much rather they face retribution for their actions in meaningful ways including working toward reparations#wrt all the peoples the empire occupied than to round them up to kill them or worse let them die to the telophoroi#OR to becoming blasphemies. that would make things so extremely worse.#i just dont understand how you can have sympathy for jullus when he was just like everyone else at first#but you want to leave the rest of them to die. & i dont get how you can like emet & want them to die.#like he fucking did this its a pretty notable very fucking bad thing that he did. no doubt varis has made it worse#but varis was in power for like 2 years at best.#that emet was playing a role & did not actually believe in or care about what he was doing does not erase that he did it#& i personally find it hypocritical to like him if you balk at the idea of garlemald restoration. clears throat#i believe in killing fascists but i also dont believe in punitive justice#& by the time of edw garlean civilians do not hold the systemic power they once mightve#which i think is also important. their entire country is in shambles.#if anything its the ideal opportunity for them all to start anew & learn better. shed their preconceptions as one might say#that said i still skip garlemald cutscenes bc i dont need cunts calling me a savage ✋-_-#do not take any of this for garlean apologia i fucking hate dealing with them on an individual level as a xaela player lmfao#but yeah. if you can feel pity for livia who is a military general WHO HAS ACTIVELY KILLED YOUR FRIENDS#but not for the civilians whove never been exposed to anything other than propaganda. idk man. 30 tags. fly free my post
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oh.
(i reached the tag limit but i do wanna emphasise that im not against feminism and im happy yn didn't just succumb to the trope but i truly wasn't paying attention to the preface and didn't expect such a plot twist and angst and ending so I'm really shaken up because i was expecting something cute and silly and now im in actual physical pain and i need a resolution to this (hopefully a sequel where jaem's a better man and actually loves her) to make me feel better.))
(also omg somi was such a nice person only she knew the real him while all his other friends were nasty fake bitches. she actually cared and knew him even though she wasn't even there most of the time. also I need to know did jaem break up with his friends after the incident or is he still with them senior year? what made him switch his major? also did he ever even actually love her or did he think he did at the time? oh god the pain is getting worse this truly broke me shsjsjsjsj i need to cry I NEED A SEQUEL)
barbie girl.
if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.
or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.
pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, fluff, angst ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 24,618 words warnings :: body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, [spoiler] did something bad, people being literal scum, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: pretty boys (romi) ⋆ you can’t sit with us (sunmi) ⋆ i just wanna know (katherine li) ⋆ lie to girls (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ leftover feelings (regina song) ⋆ number one girl (rosé) + extended playlist here. author’s note :: she’s all that is one of my most favorite rom coms ever, but i’ve always been ///: at the whole makeover idea and decided to write my own version !! the idols mentioned in this fic are just characters, and how i portray them in this fic do not reflect how i actually view them or their irl personas. as always, much love to miss lana and miss moon for being my biggest cheerleaders ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.
i. hiya, barbie! hi, ken!
Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.
Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes in Seventeen magazine that you used to be obsessed with when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.
By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door of your shared accounting classroom during your fall semester, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. And he probably already spent even more time selecting the final photo to edit before you arrived to class and noticed him. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting.
Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.
“Y/N!”
You stand corrected.
Na Jaemin does know that you exist.
Keep reading
#i didnt read the tags and warnings properly and now im broken#this broke me#why does it hurt#i felt so called out the whole time#literally felt the whole life in rose coloured glasses in real time and then felt it as everything broke away oh god#im in physical pain i did not expect it to end in such painful angst#im so happy yn knew her worth and didnt put up with jaem's bs#but i wasnt expecting the angst i really needed him to open his eyes and realize what an asshole he was and then grovel and get together#my brain is not functioning#i was listening to music while reading and i literally had to stop and read in silence because of the disbelief im in#somebody sedate me#this is a masterpiece but please i need a sequel tell me it gets better tell me it stops hurting#tell me jaemin is a changed man that actually deserves and truly loves abd cherishes yn and yn is a badass who knows her worth#and they finally get together as successful adults in the real world#please stop i need this sequel it cant end like this#im actually crashing out in real time i wasnt expecting angst and i wasnt expecting it to end like that#this is not real life this is fantasy so i need them to get together#they love each other... right?#please im going crazy why has this actually broken me#i cried#how do i move on from this#what if i can never read another work of this creator's because im too scared i dont pay attention to the tags n summary n end up like this#oh jaemin#i cant look at barbie and ken the same again#this broke me truly#im so sad#send help#need cute soft fluffy HAPPY comfort nana after this#i cant stop tagging im going crazy you dont understand#NO BECAUSE I REALLY THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE CUTE SILLY FUN LIKE ITS CALLED BARBIE GIRL BUT IM SOBBING WTF THIS WAS EVIL
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Unsolved
Pairing: charles leclerc x podcaster!reader
summary: when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker
a/n: Hope everyone has a good 2025!
a/n2: I made up all of these murders and mysteries. My bad if they’re actually real
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourprivate, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, and 3,138,723 others
scuderiaferrari: Carlos and Charles took the stage today to answer fans’ questions!
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user1: god do they look good
↳user2: i knnnnnoooowwwww
↳user1: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now ngl
user3: loved the little baking lesson that Carlos had going on there at one point
↳user4: god can we get charles to take notes???
↳arthur_leclerc: it wouldn’t help
↳charles_leclerc: stop lying! I can cook
↳arthur_leclerc: you can’t
↳user4: we saw that pasta video…unless you’ve gotten vastly better no you can’t
user5: my big surprise takeaway was that charles also listens to unsolved? He seems like that would be too scary for him tbh
↳user6: listen that man has been in Ferrari for years now
↳user6: listen to the horrors? No no no. He lives with them. He is them
↳user7: alrighty there Mr. Philosophy. Chill
user8: ok but did you see his blush when they asked why he liked unsolved?
↳user9: YES! I think the mans likes the podcaster, not the podcast!
↳user8: can you blame him? They’re hot af
user10: ok but i feel like this is the start of a meet cute? liked by charles_leclerc, yourprivate
↳user10: did??? Did Charles just like my comment???
↳arthur_leclerc: 😆😆😆😆
unsolved
liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 724,293 others
unsolved: Let’s talk death and disappearances this month — three cases spread across 3 states and 3 decades that have never been solved that starts and ends in Boston! Lisa Miller, …more
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user11: chilling…
user12: ok but why do they match so well…did you just somehow connect these 3 murders?
user13: damn do the fbi need to hire you. liked by the fbi
↳user13: wait what???
maxverstappen1: good stuff 👍🏻
↳user14: what in the earth is this crossover???
↳user15: vroom vroom guys listen to murder mystery podcast??
↳charles_leclerc: NO. NO WE DONT
↳unsolved: shame 😞
↳charles_leclerc: no wait wait wait. I DO! They don’t.
↳pierregasly: 😂😂
↳user16: what in the world…
oscarpiastri: interesting, interesting…
↳charles_leclerc: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
↳oscarpiastri: that’s no way to speak to your son…
↳user17: what is going on in the House of Commons???
↳unsolved: that’s what we would like to know as well…
↳charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENIGN!!
Private Emails
scuderiaferrari
liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, unsolved, and 2,133,464 others
tagged: unsolved
scuderiaferrari: COTA here we come…with a mysterious guest!
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user18: OH MY GOD did they really invite the unsolved podcaster Charles has been not so secretly thirsting over???
↳user19: they did! I bet it’s gonna be a really interesting race…
charles_leclerc: we look forward to seeing you!
↳user20: how long did it take you to type that out and not completely freak??
↳arthur_leclerc: longer than you think possible!
this comment was deleted
↳carlossainz55: his face was redder then our cars
this comment was deleted
↳pierregasly: I was fielding panicked calls all day. You have no idea
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↳maxverstappen1: I just took his phone and did it for him 😂
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user21: my fingers are crossed. I am sat. Please please please give us a good episode of unsolved with Charles and Carlos. You don’t understand my NEED for this to happen
↳user21: god I’m just imaging something like their prison episode from 2 years ago? Like spooky and creepy to the extreme!
↳user22: sorry but can you explain? I’m new to unsolved and am working backwards!
↳user21: of course! So about 2/2.5 years ago the unsolved crew camped out in a decommissioned prison with a ghost hunter group (I forgot their name sorry!)
↳user21: while the hunters were, you know, searching for ghosts, the unsolved crew were doing an in-depth study on all the creepy and dangerous murders that happened in the prison!
↳user21: it was a really fun crossover episode!
↳user22: oh! That’s so cool! And austion has some pretty haunted places — maybe they’ll do it again here!
unsolved has posted 3 stories
[COTA here I come!] [beautiful!] [The setting for tonight!]
user23 replied I’m so excited!
scuderiaferrari replied glad to see you on the way!
↳unsolved thanks for setting this up!
↳unsolved I’m very excited!
user24 replied oh my god that’s such a pretty photo!
user25 replied go get your man
↳unsolved whaat??
↳user25 oh my god you don’t know??
↳unsolved ???
↳user25 oh this is gonna be funny af
scuderiaferrari replied …you’ll have both our drivers back in one piece right??
↳unsolved of course!
charles_leclerc replied that’s…that’s where we are staying??
↳unsolved yup!
Bluesky
Bluesky
unsolved
liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 1,231,122 others
tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrar, spiritsleuths
unsolved: only 1 driver was hurt in the making of this video and his name was…Jasper White! Thanks to scuderiaferrari for loaning us their drivers to make this amazing video that took a long look at some of the most haunting deaths in this local Austin landmark! And thanks to the Spirit Sleuths for helping us out last night!
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user26: spooky…
↳user27: it feels unreal that there were so many deaths in one place in such quick succession…
oscarpiastri: glad to see you made it though the night
↳charles_leclerc: of course I did! There was no problems whatsoever
↳unsolved: I’m pretty sure I have a couple of hours of video that show you screaming and clutching at me to prove that wrong…
↳charles_leclerc: you don’t ☺️☺️☺️
↳maxverstappen1: ohhh share?
↳unsolved: that’s no footage I guess
↳pierregasly: shame
↳charles_leclerc: thank you 😊
↳user19: hmmmmm user53??
↳user53: i see it. I see it
arthur_leclerc: ok but how many drivers were screaming???
↳unsolved: all of them!
↳charles_leclerc: no! Just 1 🥹🥹
↳unsolved: sorry just one!
↳carlossainz55: compañero?
↳charles_leclerc: just 1!!!
↳unsolved: sorry 🤗
↳user19: hmmmmm
↳user53: adding it to the folder now
user28: that was such a fun episode!
↳spiritsleuths: just wait for our cut of the night!
↳user28: I’m sitting. I’m sat. I’m ready.
sebastionvettel: never thought I’d see the day after that incident in 2019
↳landonorris: share!
↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean the inchident
↳maxverstappen1: another inchident??
↳carlossainz55: it was for a love interest
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↳charles_leclerc: this time it won’t be just an inchident
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourprivate, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,293,124 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
scuderiaferrari: And that’s our COTA winner Charles Leclerc!
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yourprivate: Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me
↳charles_leclerc: who are we to fight the alchemy?
user29: man he moves fast
↳charles_leclerc: very fast!
↳charles_leclerc: not letting this chance escape me!
↳user29: oh my god im so jealous right now
↳yourprivate: 🤭🤭🤭
carlossainz55: congrats mate!
↳charles_leclerc: you too!
↳charles_leclerc: for both reasons!!
↳carlossainz55: shush!
↳user30: oh??? user19, user53???
↳user19: …I’m on it
↳user53: I’ll start the coffee
↳user31: COFFEE??!?? ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER???????
↳user53:WHAT NO? AHAT? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
↳user19: I DONT KNOW AHAT YOURE TAKKING ABOU AHAHAHA
↳user32: user19 user53 act normal challenge — failed
pierregasly: thank god. Now stop texting me asking how to ask them out
↳charles_leclerc: stop. talking.
↳yourprivate: awww were you nervous?
↳pierregasly: if nervous includes texting me over 200 times in an hour with different pick up lines and selfies asking how his hair and outfit looked?
↳pierregasly: yes
↳charles_leclerc: im going to run you over 😄
↳scuderiaferrari: you can’t actually say that Charles!
↳charles_leclerc: for legal reasons this was (not) a joke
↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁
↳pierregasly: …I don’t like that emoji calmar
↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁
user33: the way he sprinted over to her…
↳user34: I have NEVER been so jealous as I am right now
↳yourprivate: ehehehehehe
↳user34: ok no need to rub it our faces
↳yourprivate: why wouldn’t I?
↳charles_leclerc: 🥰🥰🥰🥰
↳yourprivate: 😘😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️❤️
↳user34: right in front of my salad???
user35: wow that highway is calling my name tonight…
↳user36: sleepover!
#f1 smau#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 instagram au#formula 1 smau#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#formula 1 social media au#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one
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inextricably bound - viktor, jayce
summary; stuck in a plane above all else but at least you're together
genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, bad jokes?, a dash of angst?, czech viktor, jayvik are canon fuck whatever christian linke was saying, just two bros being soulmates in every timeline and they're each others everything (but not in a gay way am i right chat /j), god forbid two dudes be canonically gay in every timeline, sorry im pissed off, im coping with jayvik being gone, OOC jayvik??, i dont know how to write for jayce well, jayvikreader poly sloppy toppy (jk), it's like implied that reader just got pulled in and doesn't know the dramatic moment they had n the astral plane before finally making up., headcanon that the astral plane is almost like being in limbo for death or reincarnation
[reader's gender not specified or mentioned]
word count; 808
a/n; can you tell im mad that there are jayvik non believers? like hate them all you want, but you can't just say that they were just bros and im glad most of the fandom can understand that. am i absolutely greedy for viktor? yes, but im not taking him away from his literal soulmate/twin flame/whatever the fuck gay shit they got going. also i feel like this isnt my best work but anyways enjoy :)
empty.
that's what being in the astral plane feels like. but it's calm. most of your body is engulfed the stars that you once looked up to. now you were part of that. not as a star but as a being. your face is illuminated a white gold shimmer.
"love?" a voice echoes and before you know it, two familiar faces are close to yours.
"vik? jayce?" your voice echoes in the listless space. and it's only then do you register how.. normal they look again.
despite the stars that cover their body and shimmering light of the ethereal, they look like themselves. it was the viktor and jayce you knew. your hands move, your body floating as you hold viktor's face.
"it's you. viktor.." the mentioned male looks at you, guilt and love in his eyes. jayce's hand rests on the small of his back, a silent encouragement for the shorter man. "it's you.." your voice trembles. viktor can't look you in the eye until jayce's hand gently nudges him, and it's only then that he sees the absolute love pouring from your eyes. "i should be more concerned that we're stuck here, but fuck.. i missed seeing you."
you can't exactly cry in the astral plane. your tears end up sparkling and twinkling away and become part of the galaxy you've been pulled into.
"miláček.." you don't even realize how much you've missed his normal voice until now. even if it did have that ethereal echo, it was still him. your viktor. your forehead presses against his for just a moment.
"you... i have a lot to say, but let me be happy for just a moment." viktor tenses at your words, but he relaxes in your touch. you pull away to give jayce the love you missed giving him.
"jayce.. you did so well. more than well. i don't know everything of what you experienced, but you never gave up. didn't know i could be more thankful for you." jayce smiles brightly at your words as you hold his face between his hands in appreciation.
he looks at you with that look he used to give you and viktor when things we once normal. that silly lovesick grin on his face, but you know he can't express how thankful he is for you and him. "i missed you so much, too. you have no idea." he said softly.
"now, with that out of the way, what exactly happened?" the two men look at each other before slowly explaining how everything started and ended with them. and they definitely ended it, seeing as they were taken here by the crystal that jayce held so dear to him. "but why am i here then? i mean, it makes sense for you two to be here. you're basically soulmates."
"don't say that, miláček. we love you too. whether you're in this timeline or not." viktor said gently, floating to you and holding you in his arms. "we won't allow you to think so lowly like that. especially when jayce is around. and especially because that line of thinking does not seem to do well for us. my insecurities blinded me to want to fix everything to a dangerous degree.." he confesses.
"you’re ours whether you like it or not. and it's not like we can find a way to leave here." jayce smiled softly, his large arms wrapped around yours and viktor's shoulders. he hugs you two close, not missing a moment to hold you both in his arms.
"i guess it was really meant to be when i said you're both stuck with me forever." you joked, kissing them on the cheek. "but we're really stuck here?"
after your kisses, viktor starts giving his share of kisses. "it would seem so. not that i'm complaining." jayce joins in on the sweet kissing session, making sure to give as much as he could before you or viktor start telling him to stop. echoing laughter rings out in the empty void. the cold of the astral plane could never make you shiver when you were with the men who did nothing but give you warmth.
"maybe we'll just reincarnate. do you believe in reincarnation?" you asked between kisses. they pause for a moment, contemplating your words.
"eh.. well, i'm sure it wouldn't be crazy to believe in reincarnation." viktor said with the slight tilt of his head, his look silently conveying his uncertainty but uncaring of it.
"if we do get reincarnated, i'll make sure to find you two before anything else." jayce whispered, his face firm with determination and love.
"that's so sweet. and sappy." you laughed lightheartedly.
the two men can't help but join in with their own laughter and just for a moment, the stars twinkle a little brighter as if joining in on the joy.
#arcane viktor x reader#arcane viktor#arcane jayce#lol arcane#arcane x reader#league of legends jayce x reader#lol jayce x reader#jayce league of legends#jayce x reader#lol viktor x reader#lol viktor#league of legends viktor#viktor x reader#league of legends viktor x reader#viktor league of legends#viktor x reader x jayce#jayvik x reader#viktor arcane#league of legends x reader
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𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞
character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧
cw; picking up the phone while they’re fucking you (f!reader)
tags; slight voyerism/missionary position/ teasing (gojo), teasing/ doggy style/ degradation (geto), vouyerism/ degradation/ praise/ chokehold/ back shots (toji),sex tape/ voyerism/degradation/ objectification / missionary (sukuna), [yuuji makes an appearance at the end] (f!reader)
a/n; I haven’t posted in a while, if you requested it is in the making I promise, by the way if the spelling/grammar is bad it’s cause i’m writing this at 1 am my brain ain’t function properly rn
𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮
✰ would tease you, pick up the phone and tell the person that picked up that you’re busy while still fucking you.
“why don’t you answer it baby, it might be important?”
he smirks down at you as he watches you glare at him even though your moaning, letting out a weak “fuck you” at his childish antics.
“c’mon, all you have time do is see what they want it can be that hard”
his pace doesn’t let up and you watch in horror as he picks up the phone to answer with a devious smirk on his face. he knows you didn’t actually expect him to pick up the phone.
“this is gojo speaking, ah nanamin it’s you. sorry shes busy but I can help you”
your quick to slap your hand over you mouth and gojo feels the way you clench around him and he watches in amusement as you try to contain your noise though he’s sure the sound of his hips slapping against yours are making it through the speaker.
“yeah, I’ll be sure to pass on the message don’t worry”
once the call ends he throws the phone to the side and continues fucking you however the smirk never leaves his face. you’re sure to call nanami back and apologise for gojo’s behaviour.
𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮
✰ he would tease yout at first baiting you but he wouldn’t actually pick up.
“what would they think if they heard the pathetic sounds you’re making baby, you wanna find out?”
he watches as you shake your head and whine at his suggestion from below him but he feels the way your cunt tightens around him at the idea.
“you sure baby, then why did your pussy squeeze so tight when I mentioned it, clearly you want them to hear how much of a cock hungry slut you are don’t you”
it’s the first time something like this has happened so you’re not sure if he’s actually going to pick up or not, you’re oulse raising in anticipation.
“you think I don’t feel the way your sucking me in even tighter, someone would think that you actually enjoy the idea of someone hearing you, is that what you want?”
“no sug, please” you don’t know if your pleas will work as the way his hands grip onto your waist tighter say otherwise as well as the way he starts to reach for the phone ahead your pulse increasing. you believe he’s going to follow through with the suggestion until he picks yo the phone to decline the call and you sigh in relief.
“don’t worry princess, I’m the only one that gets to hear your slutty moans”
𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢
✰ would pick up straight away and make you speak to the person on the phone as he fucks you.
“tell them you’re busy, make it quick”
your not ready by the time he puts the phone up to your ear and you don’t even recognise the voice speaking to you not that you have half the brain right now as toji fucked the sense out of you but you have to comply with his wishes as you dont want to be punished even though you know hes only doing it to humiliate you.
“make sure you speak properly otherwise they won’t be able to understand you baby”
it’s hard for you to speak as he has you held up by your throat so your words come out choppy in between your moans and theres no doubt that the person on the phone can tell whats going on. “ye -fuck! hello s-sorry about that. shit, can I um -oh fuck, can I c-call you back later?”
“taking to long princess, hurry up”
“fuck! m’ trying, please! no not you -fuck sorry. m’ b-busy right now so I’m gonna call you back- fuck!” toji doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence sending one particularly harsh thrust just before the call ends throwing it back to it’s place.
“such a good girl doing as i asked, but now they know what a dirty slut you are, taking calls while you’re being fucked”
𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧
✰ puts the phone next to your pussy so that the person can hear the obscene sounds then next to your mouth to hear your moans.
“keep making ‘em pretty noises for me”
you don’t even notice when he picks up the phone but you soon realise that he is holding your phone down to where his balls slap against your ass making the wettest sound and you know that he’s recording a video as he usual does when the two of you fuck, he says he saved it for when he can’t fuck you l.
“hear that it’s the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”
you don’t even have half a mind to question what he’s doing right now as even though he’s occupied with the phone he’s still fucking you brutally shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts eliciting loud and long moans from you.
“my pretty little whore can take my dick so well, she even makes the prettiest noises for me wanna hear?”
you’re not sure how long he records the sounds your pussy makes but the next thing you know is that the phone is placed next to your ear for it to hear the profanities leave your mouth one after the other a proud smirk on his face as you do “ryo please- oh fuck, feels s-so fuckin good”
“my cunt takes cock so well, pretty sure it’s all she’s good for. just to be used as my fleshlight”
you soon later come to learn that it was yuuji the video was for yuuji after hearing your moans he may or may have not fisted his cock all night in jealousy wishing it were him fucking you instead.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍
@tyunixia @riowmie
#✰𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒✰#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#geto x y/n#geto x you#geto x reader#getou suguru#getou x reader#geto suguru#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#toji zenin#toji x reader#toji smut#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#jjk x y/n#jjk smut#jjk#jujutsu geto#toji x you#jujutsu toji#ryomen sukuna
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Seeing Green
Gwayne had enough of you and declared he would not be accompanying you on your travels to the town ever again. How glad you were to know Harwin would in his stead.
bodyguard!Gwayne Hightower x Lannister!Reader x Harwin Strong | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, enemies to lovers, forced proximity ig, im just a girl!reader, angst?, jealousy, typos, etc.
A/N: this is a p2 to seeing red but you dont have to read it to understand whats happening. I have made a next part!
Tagging: @lancedoncrimsonwings @targs-on-zorses @barbieaemond @arabellasleopardcoat
"GWAYNE!" I stick my head out of the carriage window. I scoff as I watch the armored man walk off, "you can not be serious!"
"Serious?!" he snaps, turning back to me with a raised brow and a tense jaw. He rubs his lips as he storms back towards me. His glare is so grave that I actually lean back into my seat and clench my skirt.
Gwayne stomps his foot on one of the steps up the carriage. A line forms between his brows, "you have WORN me!"
I grow tense as flails his hand around.
"I have done nothing but exact your cumbersome and frivolous commands with patience!" He snaps, "and now that I've met my limit yet you have the gall to ask me if I am being serious!?!"
Gwayne's eyes are wide and clearer than the skies. His pointed stare is piercing and I cannot deflect it as he speaks to me of my unreasonableness. Admittedly, my requests were some meant to annoy him, but I did not expect him to act so acridly. I mean, surely he was accustomed to it by now. Was I truly becoming too much to bear for him?
His face is flushed with rage. I stare at him, unable to speak, for in truth I did not know how to meet his apparently genuine frustration.
"Oh," he scoffs, chuckles bubbling out his throat, "she does not speak, for there is nothing else true to say." He grips the carriage door, "what? Have you realized you do work me worse than your own employed servants? That you ask of me more than what I am required of?"
"But it is my right!" I pipe up, though my voice is still small, "you must accompany me wherever I so wander."
Gwayne's jaw feathers, "I am tasked to protect you from peril and to prevent you from doing the unwise," he steps back, "not to carry your clothes and hang them in your wardrobes!"
I stare at him, dread building in my stomach.
"What?!" he quips, "do you truly not see the brunt of my frustrations?"
"... I do not think it unreasonable to-" I gaps when he closes the door with unnecessary force before storming away.
In truth, the gesture was harsher than it needed to be and bothers me more than it should. There is a tightness to my chest as I slowly open the door and watch the man so readily forsake me. Against myself, my eyes begin to prick with tears.
"Gw-" I shut my mouth at the sound of my voice breaking. I chew my lower lip and take deep breaths to calm myself.
I did not mean to make him cross— not like that. I feel my throat tighten as I replay what just happened. Guilt eats at me more each second and soon salt cascades down my cheeks. I sit there until the coachman knocks and asks if we should away. I dismiss him and tell him I will stay here for a little while.
I don't. It feels like an hour passed of me trying not to cry, crying, and calming myself. I start when someone knocks on my carriage door.
"My Lady Lannister?" a deep voice speaks, making me wipe my face in a panic.
I try to stifle my sniffle and use my skirt to dry my tears.
"Tis Ser Harwin Strong. You cannot leave your carriage here."
I clear my throat, but my voice still betrays me with a crack, "ap-ologies. I will have it m-" but my coachman is not here. I sigh and stare at my lap. My lips wobble as helplessness creeps up on me.
A prolonged moment of silence ensues before the man outside speaks again, "my lady... are you well?"
I huff and concede to simply opening the door.
I wipe my philtrum on my sleeve and feel twice as dreadful as I see the dark haired and bearded man outside my carriage. He is a beauty. His blue eyes narrow in concern, "my lady."
I shake my head and gather my skirts.
He instinctively reaches out a hand to me and assists me as I exit my ride. Once I am stood before him, I realize just how tall and broad he is. His brows tighten as he releases my hand. I offer him a smile, "I beg your pardon for the inconvenience. I do not have anyone to move the carriage."
Ser Harwin shakes his head, "one of the stable boys can move it." He turns over his shoulder and hollers for someone to do just that. A boy approaches us, nodding politely before climbing up the driver's seat to do what was instructed of him.
My stomach rolls when the towering man looks back at me. His demeanor is starkly juxtaposed to his stature. He ghosts a hand on my shoulder and raises an arm. He leads me off to the side and speaks softly, "is there anything I can assist you with, my lady?"
I shake my head, "I am well."
He nods and clutches his hands once we find ourselves standing just by the entrance of the Keep, "forgive me, but as a guard of the City Watch, it is my duty to uphold justice. I cannot stand idle in the face of trickery."
My brows quirk at his words. I tilt my head, "do you call me a liar, ser?"
"Yes," he answers simply.
My lips part as his brazen admission.
"True, it is not uncommon for one to weep with joy, but I recognize the distress laid upon your brow," he shakes his head, "would it not be simpler for you to say you require nothing of me than to pretend you are well?"
His words make me choke. I feel my eyes begin to fog with tears.
Ser Harwin's face falls. He raises his hands, "forgive me. I only meant-"
"No," I mumble, "you are right. I injure myself! I speak before I think and create inconveniences for entertainment." I scratch my tears away before they can fall. I look up to the man, feeling dread bite at me. I resist my instinct to slip further into my emotions and try to speak as evenly as possible, "the truth is... I had a... disagreement with my ward... we always get into disagreements, but... this time it was visceral."
The man shifts on his leg, "might I ask what the disagreement was over?"
"He says I work him like a dog, that I ask much more than what he ought to do," I sniffle, "and... perhaps it is true," I evade his gaze by turning to the sky. My lips quiver, "but I did not realize my presence was so heavily insufferable." I look back at him, "I am easy on the eyes, am I not?"
The man chuckles softly, "your features are quite comely indeed, Lady Lannister."
I nod once, "that is the only correct response, ser."
A rich chuckle fills the space between us. He hums and raises a hand, "have you expressed your orders were mere reasons to keep his company?"
My expression drops at his words. I laugh but it goes dry when I realize he spoke no jest. "Ser, my ward is Gwayne Hightower. He loathes me just as I loathe him."
"And do you normally weep for your enemies?" he tilts his head.
"I weep because he regards me so cruelly!" I snap in defense, "it is most twisted for one as he to raise his voice and show aggression to one such as I!"
Ser Harwin sighs.
I wipe my philtrum, feeling my body tremble with a mix of emotions.
"What was this errand you needed to be chaperoned to?"
I gulp as I bring my hands to my hips. I debate the sincerity of his words and decide he does not have the face of a man who would use my words against me. I huff, "the tailor's. I was to have a new dress made for me for-"
His brows quirk at my abrupt halt.
I feel blood rush up my neck, but I decide to ignore it and speak with as much scorn as I could muster, "Gwayne's nameday celebration."
I observe him carefully, ready to pounce and pound him if he so wishes to berate me for the honest admission. In truth, I am taken aback by the curtness of his reply. He nods and offers me an arm, "if it pleases you, I can accompany you to the tailor myself. I have finished my patrol and have nothing better to do."
My eyes dart from the curls framing his face to his meaty arm. My lips part as I find the words to say, "would you... rather not rest for the day?"
"My honor would not allow me after beholding a lady in her distress."
I stare at his arm for a few seconds and cautiously take it.
A good while passed until Gwayne returned to the stables to find his irritating lady. When he sees the Lannister carriage parked, he sighs and marches over, preparing himself to meet the rage of the woman that was still sitting inside in protest.
"Will you sleep-" he starts but stops when he opens the door to nothing. He raises a brow and closes the door. His attention falls on the passing servant, "you. Where is the lady of this carriage?"
The man looks at him then the carriage.
"Lady Lannister," Gwayne clarrifies.
He perks in recognition, "the lady Lannister and ser Strong headed to the tailor on horseback."
"On horseback," the knight scoffs in disbelief, "Lady Lannister?" his voice fades into a laugh. And he so enjoys himself laughing for a moment before sighing, "why, I applaud the good ser for his powers of persuasion."
Upon realizing that he no longer needed to be here, Gwayne grins and nods at him, "thank you my good man. Your news has made my day."
With that he walks off and heads to his quarters.
The next day, Gwayne has a spring to his step as he heads down the hall.
I am in the middle of having my hair fixed when I hear a knock on my door. I look at the reflection from the mirror before me, "come in."
I behold Gwayne and his grin as he struts towards my bed. He leaps into it, landing on his chest. He instructs one of my servants to get him a cup of wine. Each of these things would normally be cause to chew him up; all of these combined would make me unleash upon him the wrath due to his impertinence, and yet, I find myself uncaring of his blatant misbehavior. I merely instruct my servant to fetch the sapphire necklace that match my velvet dress and sit tight by my vanity.
Gwayne takes the wine that is served to him and sips before speaking out, "I hear Lord Harwin Strong was he who accompanied you to town yesterday."
I ignore him in lieu of twirling the baby hairs by my ears.
"And on horseback, no less," he takes another sip, "how ever did he get you to ride a horse by yourself?"
"I didn't," I turn to my servant who returns with my jewels, "we rode on the same horse."
Gwayne stills. He scrunches his face at the cup in his hand then looks at me, "what?"
I smile at myself on the mirror as the necklaces is clasped around my neck. I adjust the blue stone that sparkled between my collarbones and admire the look of it.
He sits up from the bed, careful not to spill his drink, "you rode the same horse?"
"Of course we rode the same horse," I roll my eyes, "he is not a fool who expects me to enjoy such sport."
The red haired man raises his brows. He waits for me to expound further, but finds I am distracted by my reflection. He scoffs, sipping again more before saying, "I pity the steed."
I grin at myself, pleased with my image.
"I pity the steed," he repeats, "that had to carry a knight, a brat, and her hundred dresses."
My eyes dart to him. He is already looking at me from the mirror. "He did not ride with me on the way back. He is not cruel like you."
"So he walked?" his forehead curls, "and on the way back, no less." He scoffs once more before drinking again, "well, the tailor is not that far."
I inspect my attire one last time before standing and heading to the bed. Gwayne lifts his eyes; the corner of his lips soon follow. He shifts on his spot and drinks deeply.
"You are dismissed, Hightower."
He licks his lips as his brows furrow, "what?"
I tilt my head and clasp my hands together, "you do so love making sport of me repeating myself."
Gwayne pulls his head back before standing. He lifts his nearly empty cup, "are you saying you— you have no plans for the day?" He purses his lips, "no errands you wish to force upon my being."
I clench my teeth but manage to pull a smile. Gwayne finds such endearment in the forced grins, not that he would ever admit so. I nod in agreement.
"So," he holds his cup with both hands, "I am free to do what I will for the day."
"Even more so to do it as far away from me as possible," I raise my hands before walking towards him to push him out of my room.
The man chuckles as he finishes what is left of his wine. He manages to hand the empty cup to one of the servants just before we both step out of the room. He licks his lips and tilts his head at me.
The smile that spreads on his face makes my stomach roll and I combat it with a glare, "do not wait on me. I will be promenading with a friend."
"Promenade?" he chuckles. The lines on his cheek remain as he raises his brow. He looks me once over, eyes lingering on the sapphire on my décolletage, "and pray tell, who in the Keep has merited the friendship of someone so high-nosed as you?"
"Ser Harwin Strong."
His grin falters.
I do not care to wonder why as I walk off and meet the man I named in the gardens as we had arranged.
Gwayne watches. He is left alone in the corridor. He chuckles to himself and heads off to the library to unwind. The closer he inched to his destination however, the more sour the taste in his mouth became. Before he even comes near the library, he finds himself marching off to look for gods knows what he'll find.
And it seems the gods do want him to find the source of his sourness. As he marched down one stairwell, he heard an unmistakable sound of laughter that made his ears perk. He heads to the hall and looks out the window.
There, he sees a man stood in front of a woman sat upon a bench, both of them giggling and both of them in blue. His eye twitches as the dark haired fool carelessly picks a flower from a bush and offers it to her.
Gwayne finds no relief when she does not take it, for instead it seems she instructed him to place the flower on the side of her hair.
"Ha," he scoffs, pulling away from the window, "promenade, says she? Ha!" Gwayne shakes his head as his feet take him back towards the library, "neither of them are walking. HA!"
Gwayne cannot help the way his hands clench and unclench as he storms off. He scoffs once again, "fucking Strong," the ire in his chest is molten, prickly, and painful as he adds, "fucking Lannister."
#gwayne#gwayne hightower fanfic#gwayne fanfic#gwayne fic#gwayne hightower fic#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfic#gwayne hightower fluff#house of the dragon fluff#hotd fic#gwayne hightower smut#hotd fanfic#gwayne fluff#gwayne smut#gwayne x reader#gwayne x you#gwayne hightower x reader#gwayne hightower#gwayne hightower x you#gwayne angst#gwayne hightower angst#harwin strong fanfic#harwin strong#harwin fanfic#harwin fluff#harwin strong fluff#harwin x reader#harwin angst#harwin strong angst#harwin strong x reader
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daisuke x fem reader where they’re both super awkward and swansea is tired of them being oblivious to the way they feel for eachother that he makes both of his interns work on a project together
omg i totally loved writing this even tho i hcent written in a while so it might look weird? im really sorry its been a long time… (and its pretty short sorry abt that) also swansea is probably a bit ooc (i think u say it like that? idk) cause i have really bad memory so sorry abt that too…
this is set before the crash
No matter how many times the two interns tried to communicate it would always end up being awkward since everyone but them knew about their obvious crush on each other.
Nobody cares enough to help them realise that, except their boss Swansea.
That shortly explains how the three of them are now repeating the bases of engineering.
“So is that clear?” The older man looked at the young adults as they nodded.
“Great, i don’t have to repeat myself for once. Now to see how much you’ve understood try to fix this.”
He said taking an old radio that sat behind him and handed them the needed tools. He then proceeded to leave but not before giving a smirk to his interns that blushed as a reaction.
Daisuke was the first to speak up. “I didn’t actually understand all of it.”
Y/n giggled at the boy and he soon joined too. “Don’t worry… I barely managed to take some notes. Swansea isn’t really the best teacher…”
“But we don’t really have much of a choice”
“Right, so here. You can read some of my notes and umm… i guess start working.” She said handing him her notebook. He started quietly reading all of it as the girl got slowly closer and closer to read with him.
After a while Daisuke stopped and thanked her, then realised how close she’s gotten to him. Y/n panicking apologised as she didn’t notice the close distance between them.
He quickly straightened himself. “No need to apologise! We’re supposed to work together so that eventually would’ve happened, not that i mind anyways…” He muttered the last part.
Y/n raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t question it. “We should get the work started now.” She said as he nodded happily.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It has been around two hours when the two finally ended their work and were now chatting.
“Sooo… would you be free after dinner tonight?” Daisuke asked nervously, Y/n blushed at the question then smiled. “I mean… there’s not much else to do so yes. Why do you ask?”
The boy grinned and answered. “Well, i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now. Would you like to play on my gameboy with me? We can take turns! And then we can eat all the sweets that i have and stay up all night!” He exclaimed out of breath.
Y/n was surprised to hear the boy so excited and soon replied. “Sure, we can do that. We’ll just have to make sure to be quiet or else we’ll wake the captain up.” Daisuke happily nodded as he watched the girl get up and wave at him.
When she left he let put a puff of air he didn’t know he was holding. “Holy moly. She’s like super cool!”
i took the gameboy idea from a daisuke fanfic on here but i dont remember the tag. sorry this is kinda short as i said i have to get used to weiting it’s been like 2 years since i last did it. maybe i’ll write about that sleepover soemtime!! (i swear this looked longer whem i wrote it on my diary)
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ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ
sum: The story from media pov for the GORGEOUS writingg, I had so much fun making these! let me know if you want part two ad Happy New Years Day!
pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader
warning: gossip and typos🫨
Media AU
Spotify - Apple Music
ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ - ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴜ
y/n_norris
Liked by landonorris and 729,405 others
y/n_norris Took you long enough, not trying to call you all blind but… I definitely am😛🫨
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y/n.fan not her laughing at us fools 😭
user92 did she just called us blind?😦
user892 I mean… she’s not wrong 🤷♂️
F1 That was quite a surprise 😅
norris.wow YOU DIDNT KNOW EITHER?
F1 Trust us, none of us did.
landonorris 😈
user1943 Lando woke up and chose violence today
user88 He surely did.
October 12 2020
landonorris
Liked by y/n_norris, charles_leclerc and 203,042 others
landonorris Everyone knows the oldest is the hottest. Sorry peanut🤗
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y/n_norris Mum was not happy seeing the caption
landonorris just saying facts
y/n_norris you know lying is wrong, Lando 😞
landonorris 🙄
October 12 2020
y/n_norris
Liked by F1 , landonorris and 579,901 others
y/n_norris 🥳
tagged landonorris & francisca.cgomes
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francisca.cgomes 💃 ❤️
y/n_norris 💗
user829 manifestation came quickly
user103 I DID IT. No need to thank me guys🤭
landonorris don’t steal my friends 😭
pierregasly Dont steal my girlfriend 🥲
francisca.cgomes Late
y/n_norris Late
December 1 2020
y/n_norris
Liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, landonorris and 689,0821 others
y/n_norris …so it goes like this, you ask I provide, I don’t think any of you are ready, or are you? 🖤
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charles_leclerc can’t wait to know!
liked by the creator
user91 PLEASE LET ME KNOW THAT I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE READING THIS. HUH?!? HUUUH?!!
user819 No one pinch me. Let me live here. 🤫
user10 IS THIS HAPPENING?!?!😧😧😧 AND Y/N LIKED🤯🤯
landonorris NO EXPLANATION…🫨
liked by creator
user301 I love this duo fr😭🫶
user182 Lando tell me whats going on I don’t understand🤥
user76 TF do you mean charles leclerc knows what is happening. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!
user23 they’re in love (manifesting)
user35 PLEASE. 😩😩
January 19 2021
y/n_norris
Liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, F1, scuderiaferrari, redbullracing and 1,017,921 others
y/n_norris I’ll stop playing with you guys, I love seeing how freaked out you are about my posts. Anyway, Reputation out June 16! With all of our love and dedication…🖤
tagged jackantanoff
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user39 not @charles_leclerc liking the second this comes out😭 please HAHA
jackantanoff it was more than a pleasure working with you two!🔥
liked by creator
y/n_norris hope we see you again😉
charles_leclerc 🔥🔥
user189 THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN JACK?! YOU MEAN Y/N AND CHARLES?!?!! I am screaming right now holy shit.
user810 HUH, HUH?!?! WHAT DID I MISS.
user298 Charles is a master at piano, I just know that´s what this means
liked by creator
user09 y/n just gave you a like, I’m a 100% sure you’re right.
user76 Any of you notices lando gave us spoilers? “no explanation…🫨
user5 HE IS A MASTERMIND (tell me you got it 😔)
charles_leclerc 🖤
liked by creator
scuderiaferrari Can’t wait to hear this!
redbullracing Same here 👈
mclaren she’s with us, remember?
mercedesamgf1 we will need much more speakers, we are listening to this 🔝
scuderiaferradi yk maroon is just another tone of red, right? (y/n please, we loveee you)
F1 Signing y/n to do a show at this point 😇
lewishamilton please do🙏
liked by creator
maxverstappen1 y/n, when are we doing a duet? P would love it.
y/n_norris anything for P!🫶
carlossainz55 I can sing like maria carey, just throwing that out there…
liked by creator
user819 I just love every single F1 interaction here.🥺
April 16 2021
jackantanoff
liked by charles_leclerc, y/n_norris, sabrinacarpenter and 298,920 others
jackantanoff it was a pleasure working (and thirdweeling) with you two, this 4 months have been absolutely crazy, and I hope this isn’t the end of our journey😤🖤🔥
tagged charles_leclerc & y/n_norris
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charles_leclerc amazing work pal, thank you for everything! 🔥
liked by creator
y/n_norris we love you jack, thank you for supporting and having with us this crazy adventure 🫶
jackantanoff you still have to pay my therapy, those lyrics MEAN something and I was mostly there for it. I can’t unsee what I have seen.
user10 NUH UH, JACK HARD LAUNCHING AND HAVING TRAUMA BECAUSE OF THESE TWO?! 💀💀 dying.
user93 Jack knows what to give to the people, we LOVE you Jack, thank you for these pictures 😊
liked by creator
user46 I'm confused, what did Charles do? Play the piano or f- and be the muse of y/n
y/n_norris BOTH. (All the background piano was recorded by Charlie, he did an amazing job!)
user87 This is so cute, UGH
June 20 2022
charles_leclerc
liked by jackantanoff, y/n_norris, vancityreynolds, blakelively, lewishamilton and 982,039 others
charles_leclerc thank you @jackantanoff, the soft launch is now ruined. Anyhow, look at this GORGEOUS woman I get to call mine❤️ Je t'aime, ma princesse, ma seule et unique.
tagged y/n_norris
y/n_norris ❤️❤️❤️
vancityreynolds y/n, he wrote you a whole ass paragraph and you just wrote this? Disappointed 😔
charles_leclerc DID YOU JUST COMMENT ON MY POST?!😨 y/n I’m freaking out.
y/n_norris sorry DAD🙄, just reminding you I wrote a whole album abt him. Charles is kindly asking when are we going out together? (I need to see @blakelivley)
blakelivley see you in a few days you lovebirds 😉
user991 HAHAHA charles freaking out abt Blake and Ryan commenting is so real🤓🤓
landonorris 🎶there is always a duo in a trio🎶 and, y/n EW THE SONGS?!
y/n_norris Grow up lando 😤
landonorris I don’t need to hear how good Charles is in bed, E. W. 🤢🤕
charles_leclerc sorry mate😅😅
user918 💀
-
PART TWO?!?!
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Taglist
@delicatepeanutsublime @leclercera16 @ironspdy @architect-2015 @buendiabebeta @zlut1r
#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc fanfic#f1#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles lecrelc#charles leclerc#formula 1#charles leclerc drabble#formula one#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc social media au#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x female reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc media au#media au#f1 x taylor swift#f1 fic#f1 x you#f1 2023#2024
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Saw your tags on that binder post and I thought I’d share that my first introduction to chest binding was actually through the lolita community! A lot of big name japanese brands are not exactly size inclusive and did NOT cater to anyone with more than an A cup, so I did see quite a lot of safe binding advice and methods on blogs and forums back in the day before more inclusive brands became available, ranging from sports bra to actual proper binders. I’m probably not the only example of the “binding to fit into an angelic pretty dress” to “binding to fit into an angelic pretty dress and gender reasons)” pipeline, but plenty of other lolitas I know are still cis women who just do it on occasion or for specific pieces that aren’t very forgiving on the tits! I doubt that a single niche fashion subculture is the reason for those binders being marketed towards cis women so heavily, but I thought this was a funny anecdote :)
Fascinating!
patricia taxxon shit really fucking hurts. i dont want to be effected by a random internet microcelebrity not liking transdudes, that happens often enough. but god her music and essays got me through really rough shit and it really hurts to see someone i looked up to for well written essays and work fall back on the bullshit arguments used to deny my lived experiences. it really really fucking hurts, especially with how it feels barely anyone will talk about or call it out. i thought trfs were something id have to look hard for, and seeing their rhetoric creep into the fucking music i listen to and tumblrs i follow really truly scares me
I'm sorry, anon. I love you a lot. <3
“You shouldn’t break up the trans community into groups!” The TRFs literally came up with a way to break up the community via TMA/TME. They are actively distancing themselves from the community by baking fearmongering into their ideology. God forbid we create a term about sticking together against a group within the community that’s inherently dividing?
lmao literally
Just had my first time getting sexually harassed by a woman as a percieved cis man and commiserating afterwards with a cis man about how we're all just supposed to be cool with being treated like that. It's a weird experience and somehow going through the same things mostly from women as a girl then nonbinary then a trans guy it feels the same but the flavors change. I know the discourse is literally nothing but it makes me feel like my feelings shouldn't matter because of the male privilege. And I even did my civic duty and took the brunt of it away from the other trans man who was getting it worse because of his percieved feminine traits which people also like to pretend doesn't happen. All of it is just stupid.
It's fine, she was a woman and you're a man so that was praxis sexual harassment.
honestly i think a better predictor of how much autonomy a child is able to have over their presentation is probably whether the child is disabled moreso than agab, like i not only wasn't allowed to have my hair too short, i also wasn't allowed to have it too long for a chunk of my childhood because it took me awhile to understand how to brush my hair (because i was afraid to because i am hypersensitive to touch and my mother would always brush my hair in a way that hurt so much i would cry), and my mother would bitch and moan about how difficult i was about it (because she was hurting me and did not listen when i told her this) and so i wasn't allowed to have longer hair until i could brush it myself. ultimately the biggest factor is always the attitude of the parents though
God, so much of my shit with my mother was over my hair, it still really gets to me.
TRF is like the whole voting for face eating panthers. But it’s like TERFs are the panthers and TRFs are a cheetah, like “I’m a kind of cat too so they won’t eat my face as long as I eat faces too right?” WRONG they see you as prey, they won’t spare you because they see a fellow cat, they’ll eat your face cuz you’re not a panther!
cis women will like me if I explain to them how I'm -taxonomically- a woman
it’s insane to me that ‘it’s bad to hate someone for an uncontrollable part of their identity no matter who they are’ is a controversial take now
we've regressed
when people say ‘um ackshually i can say i want all men to die and if you tell me “men see these things and go far right because they think it’s true” then you are blaming women for men’s bad behaviour’ i just immediately assume that this person is stupid as fuck like. if a teenage boy goes online to see what feminism is about and is bombarded with ‘kill all men’ ‘all men are rapists’ etc then OBVIOUSLY he’s not gonna want to be feminist. it is really not that fucking hard to understand. people don’t wanna be in spaces that are cruel to them for an aspect of their identity that they cannot control it’s not ‘blaming women for misogynistic men’ to say that. it’s just fucking true. people are so stupid it actually pains me
unfortunately radfem juice is addictive
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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
#cromernet#choi san x reader#choi san smut#choi san scenarios#choi san x you#choi san x y/n#park seonghwa x y/n#park seonghwa scenarios#park seonghwa x reader#park seonghwa smut#ateez scenario#ateez smut#ateez x reader#chokkiwa#chokko#drivebyme
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Oh wow i have a serious problem i just went over what i wrote to you and i probably should have stopped at the first two sentences but it gets me upset the abuse lando faces i dont even like the guy i perfer oscar, max, charles and carlos but even i know that sending death threats to someone is not okay, and it upsets me that people almost always take his words out of context like when did lando say he actually had a chance at winning the wdc this year? I've seen people bash on him for the latest race where max raced incredibly, but what they dont seem to understand is that the race's terrible race conditions could have actually seriously injured him, we all seem to forget that the guy is younger then max, less experienced, and has huge problems with self-worth that actively seem to affect the way he race's. the fact that max won in the rust bucket that barely seemed to work in favor of the guy is incredable, but bashing on another driver for seemingly not wanting to take a chance with the awfull race conditions (*please note that this is what it looked like to me on what lando was doing that race where he did make mistakes but the weather wasnt helping ether* also note that that franco, oliver and others commented ether on the weather being dangerous, their cars 'Presumably the cars not agreeing with the weather ether', or the fact they couldnt see for shit and out right stated that someone should have a talk with the fia *i couldnt watch the whole race but ive seen snippets of driver radio's and the like, so i cant say with 100% certainty that this is correct*)
So yeah i think that, if i as someone who doesnt like lando, its really concerning what some people say about the guy and as a side note none of the other drivers seem to notice the hate from what ive seen but this last part might just be me. What are your thoughts on the hate lando's been getting seeming to increase anytime he seems to actually want to enjoy racing with the other more popular (equally popular?) Drivers?
🍑anon
Hi anon,
That’s okay, I will respond to this ask rather than the previous one (but just for context for anyone else the previous ask was about fan fiction so wan’t anything mean). This ended up being a really lengthy answer because I have lots of thoughts!!!
I’ll put the answer under the cut and tag as anti Lando despite this really just being my opinion and I personally don’t think I am being particularly harsh here but maybe people will disagree.
Firstly hopefully to most people it goes without saying that sending death threats is not okay, that goes for any of the drivers (and various other individuals that I have seen targeted over the past few years). I also have never understood people specifically going to an individual’s social media page just to spout negativity or abuse at them, if you don’t like someone you don’t need to follow them.
However, I am surprised that people seem to be shocked that Lando is receiving hate online as this is absolutely nothing new and, if I am being honest, I have seen worse (not that this is a competition!).
I will speak from the perspective of being a Max supporter and say that the abuse he has received both online and at track has been appalling over the years. After Silverstone 2021 there were plenty of comments from people saying he ‘deserved’ such an awful crash or that they wished it had been worse. Even this year there were memes going around saying that maybe we needed a repeat of Silverstone 21 (a meme liked by Lando’s dad no less, not that I think we should be blaming children for their parent’s actions!). Not only that but there is rarely a week that goes by that I don’t see jokes online about how Jos is the only one that ‘can beat Max’ or people posting memes about Max being left at a gas station when he does badly. Max needed a bodyguard in Mexico last year because there were concerns over death threats, he’s been booed up on the podium, had people chanting cheat at him in the fan zone, every comment section on his social media includes comments telling him he is a cheat or that his achievements mean nothing. The British media are like vultures any time there is even a hint of controversy. I don’t know why everyone is suddenly up in arms about Lando receiving hate, perhaps its a case of only caring when it happens to ‘their’ driver.
It doesn’t just happen to Max either. I don’t follow Lewis on social media but I still know the type or racist abuse he has faced over the years. Other drivers also receive abuse - Lance for example has vile things said about him, Nicholas Latifi was sent death threats after 2021. I am sure most if not every driver has experienced some level of hate. Social media can be extremely toxic.
Do I think any of the drivers should have to deal with such toxicity? No, but Lando is nowhere near the only one to receive hate and I don’t think someone like Max who appears ‘strong’ should have to put up with things because people get the impression it doesn’t bother him.
Whether the other drivers notice, well probably they do but its not happening just to Lando. Did Lando realise how much toxicity was being thrown at Max after Austria or Mexico? Did he try and calm things with the media or did he double down and make things worse for Max?
As for taking Lando’s words out of context. That definitely happens from time to time, the same as with any driver. Media goes for clickbait headlines and run with them. The problem is that Lando has also said things that haven’t been taken out of context and that people still find distasteful. The comments about it not being talent and being luck did not come across well. I was tempted to give him the benefit on that one and assume he was referring to himself and saying it was not him being untalented but unlucky but then he doubled down by saying nobody deserved to win the race more than George - how can I take that any other way other than the fact he was saying Max didn’t ‘deserve’ to win the race.
As for Lando saying he thought he could win the WDC, if he didn’t think he could win it this year then to me that would be more of a concern. He has a championship winning car and has done for most the season, if he can’t win it now then when?! He should have been confident that he could win or at least put up a good fight. I would have had no problem with him openly saying he is going for the championship. Look at Charles who is not afraid to say that whilst it is still possible he is still fighting. I think part of the problem here lies with Mclaren because they should have been fully backing Lando and hyping him up but seemed to flip flop back and forth about whether they thought he was truly in the fight. It’s hardly going to give Lando confidence when his team don’t seem to be backing him as strongly as they could be.
As for Brazil, Lando didn’t have a great race. George got past him at the start. He made too many errors. Charles finished in front of him despite starting behind him. Max, Esteban and Pierre took a risk staying out on those worn inters, they gambled on the fact the race would be red flagged but also on their abilities and confidence to keep the car on track under those conditions. They all did extremely well and deserved their podium spots. The most important thing though is that all the drivers came away without serious injuries because over the course of that weekend there were numerous occasions where entertainment was put over safety. If a driver felt they had to pit for safety reasons then I am glad they took that step.
Lando is younger than Max but I don’t think we need to baby him in terms of his racing or in terms of giving him a free pass with what he says in the media. He is 24 years old, the same age Max was when Max won his first championship under very intense pressure.
I think you are correct about confidence or self worth affecting him. Whilst I wouldn't like to comment to much on his mentality, to me (and I don’t tend to watch too many of his interviews so I could be wrong) he seems to flop back and forth between being overly critical of himself and then also not taking accountability and saying someone else just had the fastest car or were lucky. I think it would be really good for him to be able to look as objectively as possible about where he has actually made mistakes and can improve but also being able to pick out the things he has done well and be proud of those things.
Overall I don’t think any drivers should have to put up with the amount of hate that they have to put up with but Lando is not the only one to receive hate and, dare I say it, I don’t even think it has been as vicious as some of the things I have seen over the years. Social media is toxic and people should be more mindful and realise these are real people - all of them!!
Also, once again lets be thankful that nobody was seriously hurt over the weekend and lets hope the Fia take steps to act more swiftly when safety cars and red flags are needed and that they put safety above other concerns.
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➶ the butcher
sfw | tags ; nb!yandere butcher x gn reader (only prn used for reader is ‘you’), yandere behavior/tendencies, stalking, butchery (duh), violent imagery/ideation + implied violence
i dont see explicitly nonbinary yanderes much at all so im here to change that bc us offgendered mfs can be are crazy too 😌 sorry if this kinda sucks bc i finished this up while half asleep
you always felt there was something… off. about the 24 hour deli you always passed by.
it seemed to always be empty, aside from the butcher who was constantly at work inside. chopping meat, severing flesh from bone, every action executed with nearly clinical precision. did they ever do anything else? how were they always so busy with so little customers?
you could never understand. but as much as you were put off by the strange little store, curiosity gnawed at you with equal strength.
because of that, the day you entered the shop for the first time late one night, you left all of your concerns at the door.
unbeknownst to you, the butcher had been watching you long before you ever entered their deli. they always felt your eyes on them when you passed by their store — your gaze just felt so different from others. electrical, almost. they always knew when you were nearby. you must've felt it too, right? the connection you had?
but poor rhodes, they could never just approach you! you never stopped by and you didn't even know their name. they never had an opening to meet you formally. it'd be such a shame to scare you off...
thus, they were content with watching you from a distance. they ensured you never noticed their dark eyes following you, only daring to observe you passing in their peripherals or looking in your direction after you had walked far enough away. how wonderful your appearance was... a lovely sight that always brightened up the monotony of their work days. it was so fun to see you go about your life, it satisfied them enough to not mind your lack of connection.
though, sometimes... they couldn't help but imagine the animals they were tearing apart were the folk they occasionally saw you talking to. to tear their skin off of them, cut them into filets and send them far, far away from you... they ideated about it more times than they'd admit. why did you have to interact with others in front of them?
the day you actually entered their shop was a day they'd never forget. they thought they were dreaming when you walked in, shivering from the cold of the night seeking warmth and food in their establishment for the first time. you'd started a new job, see, and your shift ended well after everything else had closed. you were forced to forgo dinner and you were starved. so rhodes' butchery was the only place nearby you could visit.
you were intimidated by them, admittedly. their hulking frame, blank expression, and rough voice combined with the blood and gore constantly clinging to their apron was enough to put anyone on edge. but they couldn't be that bad, right?
their rampant emotions were hidden behind the unwaveringly neutral expression they always held, and you were none the wiser to their thudding heart and the slight tremble in their hands as they took your order.
the exchange was simple enough — you ordered a sandwich and something warm to drink, they made it for you, and you'd sit in one of the few chairs scattering the deli's entrance to enjoy your food and try to wind down after your shift.
and just like that, a routine was established.
you got to know rhodes as you continued to visit their place of work. they weren't scary, just awkward! or so you told yourself. but they were so easy to talk to — albeit not the best conversationalist, they were a superb listener. they'd devote their full attention to you every time you spoke to them, not daring to breathe a word so they wouldn't interrupt your lovely voice. they'd learn everything they could about you during your conversations. how you were gradually getting used to your new job, how it was a good thing they were open so late, how you were grateful for their work... things that they'd replay in their mind over and over again when you left.
you never really thought much of it when rhodes began giving you food on the house, using various excuses from not wanting to have to reopen the register to having conveniently already made your favorite sandwich earlier that day for a canceled order. you were friends now! of course they'd want to do you favors.
you also never really thought of it when the coworker who you'd complained about to them a few times stopped coming to work, either. they made an enemy out of so many people at your job, maybe they got fired? it wasn't any of your business.
rhodes had no clue how they'd get closer to you just yet. but now that you were seeing them regularly, they didn't mind settling for making your life a bit easier.
in any way they could.
after all, no one was going to question a butcher for having bloodied clothes.
#🥩 rhodes williams#lovesick | ocs#mine | fics#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x oc#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere x darling#nonbinary yandere#nb yandere#t4t yandere#yandere oc#trans yandere
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unexpected
an ellabs x black!streamer!reader
some times your viewers expect you're in a relationship, and one time you spell it out clearly for them.
wc : 1.860
contains : reader is feminine ! the picture is more lightskin but all shades can read <333 ltlvc reference
a/n : coming up with chat usernames is so hard what the fawk??? but yeah while i ignore trolls the ones under these tags were pissing me off so i wrote this for my fellow black girlies <333 i hope u enjoy :)
lets get one thing out of the way, you loved being a streamer. now that you had a good following of a few thousand regular watchers, you were more than financially stable, got to do something you enjoyed as a job, and even made a few new streaming friends.
but when it came to those friends, every content creator knew simple friendships could stir up drama. you had heard of many cases of friendships being strained or ruined because of this job. more specifically because of the fans.
which is why you took an oath to leave finer details like relationships out of your work. if you did tell a story about that time you and your friends nearly got kicked out of a local mall's journey's, you would keep descriptions of friends brief and blank, even resorting to calling people "friend number one, friend number two..."
luckily most of your fans were more than understanding that you wanted to keep some of your life private.
most of them.
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case one : the first p.o. box
it was another po box opening stream you decided to start early in the day, wanting to show and appreciate chat with the things they got for you.
lululemonsz : babe i hope its a new keyboard urs is on a iv drip !
wariolover96 : open it open the box OPEN IT
shelovedantee : damn is there a bomb in it hurry up
you laughed looking at all the people in chat begging you to open the current package in your hand.
"everybody chill out. look, im gonna open the first one now."
you quickly got a pair of scissors to cut off the packing tape on both ends, hurrying to pull the cardboard from its place.
the chat started speeding up when your mouth fell open in shock, slowly reaching in and pulling out the keyboard. it was sleek, mechanical, and your favorite color.
biiiigpoo : omg isnt that thing like $250?
lululemonsz : this as the first gift is CRAZY
ilovestardewmc1237 : one of your viewers is in love with you
you couldn't even respond, turning the keyboard over and back again to admire the details of it. out of the corner of your eye you spot a little yellow sticky note at the bottom, bringing it up to read it without letting the camera see. once you got to the end, your eyes widened and you quickly moved on to the next gifts.
but the light reflecting from your window and monitor was enough for chat to see a few letters on the note. after that, your fandom quickly began talking of a person named "A" who had not only the money to get you crazy expensive keyboards, but was also able to fluster you with a small note.
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case two : the search history.
every so often, your mods would host little events on your stream. these could include giveaways, shitty chat therapy, and little games for everyone to play. today it was a challenege : the more bits people donated, the crazier stuff you had to do for them. it was all pretty tame, and the end goal was one you didnt think you'd manage to hit.
never doubt the power of charisma and a pretty face, because after only three hours you manged to reach that two thousand dollar mark, and chat was raving at what you'd have to reveal next : your search history.
ariagatorr : damn this lowkey invasive 💀
devonchcgo22 : and we dont give a fuck
plantsnparsnip : right open that shit up
"i hate yall, do you know that? like genuinely." you groaned, slowly movied your mouse to open your chrome history.
there wasn't much for chat to bully you about thankfully, just some light teasing about how much you use pinterest and asking what it was you bought on etsy. and just when you thought you were done, someone had to open their big damn mouth.
pian0picass0 : wait a minute why did you open ellies stream THREE times ????
chat started moving faster as they read the comment, everyone asking you to open the stream and show them what was going on. sucking your teeth and denying them as you had shown them what they wanted!
after quickly wrapping up the stream and giving your thanks and goodbyes, a portion of viewers went on a manhunt for any ellie who was streaming at the moment.
once clicking on the stream, they found it was just a casual stream with ellie. she was obviously pretty, but was super laid-back in her jeans and converse as she strummed some songs on her guitar.
"oh hey, welcome to the stream i guess. any requests? i was gonna practice some radiohead because my friend asked for it."
pian0picass0 : hey ellie! do you know who (y/u) is by any chance?
"'sup casso. uhhhh no i dont think i do. did she send yall over here? maybe ill check her channel out."
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case three : the enhanced dm's
"everybody shut the fuck up and lets start this stupid thing."
this was it, one of your biggest streams of the year. and also the most fun. and most aggravating.
the gist was simple. you and 5 other streamers were thrown into a discord call and whoever lasted the longest through the sleep deprivation and challenges won a heap of cash.
what the hell was it with you getting screwed over by challenges?
it didn't seem that bad. the host, a close friend of yours, told you to share your screen so everyone could decide something to tweet from your twitter.
now, your friends in the call didn't notice what was on your screen when you shared it, and if they did they didn't say anything. but never doubt the perseverance of your crazy ass viewers, because one took the liberty to see exactly what you were saying in that split second they could see your dm's, because they swore they knew that profile picture...
abby : don't worry you'll do fine
abby : you're not gonna get embarrassed by any of the challenges
abby : i hope
y/n : seriously
abby : come onn you know i'm rooting for you <3
y/n : aww thanks bee
abby : yup. for the whole event i'm gonna be your personal cheerleader ^3^
y/n : oooo you gonna put on a uniform for me?
abby : don't push it.
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case four : the voice chat slip up
at this point, there was no point in acting like you didn't know the two streamers.
the first was abby. mostly posted fitness, health, and lifestyle videos on youtube, but would occasionally go live on twitch to talk with her fans or stream herself working out at the gym.
(you may or may not have admitted live that you found her by watching a few of her workout streams. whoops.)
and then there was ellie, a gaming streamer who was known for being chill and quiet when playing music but as loud as a plane engine when playing cs:go. don't even get her started on cod.
but luckily you'd manage to convince her to play some games with you on your latest stream! some stardew, maybe some overcooked. even if she kept burning all of the damn food.
leave it to ellie williams to always surprise you, though.
when you hear the du-dum of the discord join noise, your face lights up and your mouth opens to greet ellie before she beats you to it.
"ok, babe, which game we playin first?"
to make a long story shot, your chat went ballistic and you gave a stern talking to the red head after the stream ended.
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case five : the instagram post
most of the time you leave most of your notifications off to avoid your phone sounding like a constant alarm. but you're guessing your recent endeavor of babysitting your cute but horrifically grabby nephew screwed you over, because before you know it the sound of dozens on instagram notifications are waking you up and pushing your bonnet from where it slipped down your eyes before unlocking your phone.
at first it seems like a normal picture abby posted, standing in front of a mirror in her living room , flexing her arm and covered in a thin sheen of sweat after an apparent workout session. ever the show off.
but when you zoomed into a blip of color in the background, your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see it.
its you and ellie, you sitting in her lap while she showed you some stupid meme on her phone she said reminded her of you.
the post was only thirty minutes old but already had a few thousand comments, the previes of 'OMG?????' and "no fucking way" giving you a hint to what people were thinking.
you turned off your phone, tossed it back on the nightstand and went back to sleep.
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case six : the joint stream
y/nsstan69 : not an unscheduled stream ??? is it judgement day ???
onlycuntz : "ft surprise guest" girl we aren't stupid
you had to hide the smile from appearing on your face as you read through the comments of your chat. you knew some of them were probably smart enough to know what was going on. the three of you hadn't really been discrete in the days following abby's slip up post, and viewers jumped at the chance to point you out in the background of some of her workout videos. and to point out how you were staring at her.
assholes.
so, here you sat in the comfort of your cute gaming chair ready to tell chat the big news with your special guest.
"so, i bet some of you are wondering why im streaming off schedule, but i had something big in my personal life that i wanted to tell you guys! in a few minutes my gest should be here..."
your voice trailed off as you kept your eye on chat, seeing a bunch of comments that you werent expecting from this big announcement.
motionpickers : lmaooooo are they serious
lululemonsz : she's gonna be so pissed
you begin to turn around in your chair when two pairs of lips press a kiss to each of your cheeks.
"you guys are so unserious."
"and you are so bad at hiding things." ellie pulls up and extra chair and rolls it up to yours so her knees touch yours. she tugs your hand into hers to sit on her lap, ignoring when you pinch her with your nails.
"ignore her. we could tell what you were doing and figured we should all do it together," abby is on your other side, resting her hip on the arm of your chair. "so, go ahead. it's pretty obvious already."
"wow, thanks for the support you guys."
"anytime, hun."
uhuhstasia : i literally cant tell whos luckier
niatargaryen : IS ANYBODY ELSE FREAKNG OUT
ilovestardewmc1237 : is it appropiate to say i called this
#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson fluff#abby x reader x ellie#ellie x reader x abby#abby#ellie#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem reader#tlou#tlou 2#tlou x reader#fem reader#streamer reader
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