#like....... do people get that tips are because people get paid Shit

[susiephone]

This reminds me of people (who are unsurprisingly also on TikTok) that insist not tipping their server is Ethical, Actually because if servers stop getting tips, eventually the law will change and servers will have to be paid a proper wage

for those not in the USA, as bad as our minimum wage situation is in general, it's worse for servers, because it is legal to pay them "tipped worker's minimum", which is often half of regular minimum wage depending on the state, with the idea being that they make enough in tips to make up the difference. not all restaurants use this model, but many do, which is deeply fucked up because if you happen to have a really unlucky week where hardly anyone tips, you're shit out of luck. (there are other jobs this applies to, but waitstaff is probably the biggest portion of people in this situation.)

and like. restaurant owners know this. everyone who has worked in a restaurant environment (or knows someone who has) knows that if over half your income is based on the whims of your customers, you can be completely fucked over even if you didn't do anything wrong. restaurants know this and still make the conscious choice to pay their waitstaff less than minimum wage.

so when I started seeing people claiming that if everyone just stopped tipping, restaurants would have no choice but to raise wages, I wanted to rip my hair out. I can't tell if anyone sincerely believes this is how the world works or if it's all just pretense to justify doing what they wanted to do anyway.

but, no, if restaurant owners cared whether or not their employees made a living wage, they'd pay them a living wage. they aren't going to raise wages because you decided to screw your server out of one of their many $5 tips that they need to pay rent.

just admit you don't want to tip because you're stingy. just admit you don't want to put the cart back because you can't be bothered. everyone is selfish at times. but don't try to coat your selfishness in progressive buzzwords and call it praxis.

[escapedaudios]

Ok, if you're a VA who uses commissions or art from image libraries, I'm gonna give some quick tips on how to avoid getting scammed or duped by AI images. It's getting harder and harder to avoid them. Besides the known visual signs, here's some red flags I've found the hard way.

If I want custom art, I normally commission or request it from people within the audio RP community, but there have been times when I used sites like Fiverr when on a time crunch. I myself almost got scammed there, so here are some easy red flags.

No line art or sketch option available on their pricing list. This is a big red flag. Actual artists usually allow this option.

No work in progress options offered by the seller. Revisions only offered when a complete product has been delivered. Real artists don't do this, and would rather get revision feedback at the sketch stage.

No interest in reference images. They're only interested in prompt input.

If you don't use custom art, be careful. A lot of image libraries are clogged with AI images now too. Most have them tagged. If you use any, be mindful to look for images tagged as AI-generated and avoid those platforms completely. Even paid libraries like Adobe Stock now have more and more AI shit clogging their output. If you're searching a platform like deviantArt and asking the artists permission to use an image of theirs, check their other art. If there's no consistent, discernible art style, they're probably posting AI shit. Avoid them too.

Also, look for all the other tell-tale signs of course, and never hurry. It's easy to get tricked if you just give a cursory glance. I've seen VAs get duped before and I very nearly got duped once on Fiverr before because I didn't look closely at the "artists" portfolio (I was thankfully able to get a refund after fighting tooth and nail for it). I've seen VAs that used to rely on services like Adobe Stock or free image libraries like Pixabay get duped when they started introducing AI to their stock images. I hate that this is an issue now but you have to be careful.

Anyway, I think the best option is to use art from people within the audio RP community. Showcase their work, buy commissions, whatever, just stick with people that you know are real human artists and part of the community. It's hell out there right now.

[cakerybakery]

Going through my drafts today and finishing up story ideas I had because my drafts are out of control again.

Adam in court ordered anger management because he punched his boss in the face.

-

Charlie was used to hostile. She worked in helping people, and not everyone wanted to be helped. And she’d dealt with people who were stubborn and prideful before.

Her father was a pain in the ass. That stubbornness being the reason her folks split while she was in college. Her father was not the biggest fan of her and her mother’s work.

Lilith did mostly work with charities. Helping organizations thrive and help people.

Lucifer had had a more pessimistic view of charity and Charlie’s work to help people find better outlets than violence for their anger or resentment.

They had only recently reconnected after Charlie distancing herself from him.

Swallowing her own pride after the city cut her funding, she went to her father to ask for help. She tried her mother but she was off in some remote part of the world doing something with, tigers? Or maybe a rainforest? It was hard to hear through the static. It was some sort of thing like that. Helping to establish a local office, wherever she was for whatever organization she was hired by now.

Charlie just wanted to see if Lucifer could help her figure out how to get her funding back. See if he could help get her a meeting with the right people.

Instead he criticized her until she told him off and she told him how much it hurt that he couldn’t stand by her and support her on this. That seemed to hit home and he got her the meeting and gave her the funding himself when that fell through.

But Adam, oh boy. She was nearly at her wits end with him.

He was court ordered to be there and like most people he felt justified in what he did. It didn’t help that his boss had goaded Adam into punching him.

They had some disagreements about heated topics and according to Adam, and their company, Michael wanted Adam gone. He was too good of a worker to fire, so he goaded Adam into striking him, not realizing the cameras had audio.

Michael had been fired, but Michael’s boss hadn’t been quite willing to yet to let Adam go too. So Sera had paid for a lawyer personally and with evidence of Michael fishing for a reaction, the judge had been lenient and order the anger management class instead of jail time for the assault.

But he had to put in the work and so far, Adam wasn’t.

In the parking lot after a class, she tried to talk to Adam. It got heated. About when he added another fist sized dent to his own truck was when Lucifer showed up.

Charlie had never seen that side of her dad before. When she was little she knew he’d come home with a black eye or bloody knuckles. He said it was just an accident. It wasn’t until the divorce that she learned her father had a short fuse with only a few hair triggers.

Never taking kindly to things like cracks about his height or remarks about his family. That anger was never directed against her or her mother, but her mother had been embarrassed by it on occasions while out.

Charlie winced as Adam punched his truck, but Lucifer had thought Adam was threatening her with the act. He flew at Adam, tackling the man to the ground. Adam defended himself.

She had to scream for the men to stop, and others from the help centre appeared to pull the men apart.

The exchange was heated but they both realized it was a misunderstanding of the situation.

Lucifer apologized and Adam, a father himself, saw himself in the tiny man. It was Michael talking shit about Adam’s kids that made Adam punch him to begin with.

He easily saw how it could be him in Lucifer’s place. If he saw a hulking man losing his shit at one of his kids, Adam couldn’t say he wouldn’t have come in swinging either. Figures that’s probably not a good thing and needs to learn to keep his cool long enough to assess a situation.

But it’s another tipping point for Charlie. Lucifer can do something about his anger management problems or she was done with him.

Unwilling to risk losing her again he agrees to join the anger management group.

Lucifer and Adam start talking during the sessions. They have stuff in common, like loving their kids, being single, having an older taste in music, fighting. Adam having done wrestling in high school, while Lucifer folks tried to give him boxing as an outlet for his anger. It only taught him how to punch better. Most importantly they enjoyed each other’s company.

Neither had dated a guy before, but they were watching a pay per view fight at Lucifer’s, they drank a bit, the guy they were supporting won the round and the two jumped up from their seats to cheer.

Adam picked Lucifer up in a crushing hug and stumbled back into the couch. Lucifer was left with his arms around Adam’s neck. Adam’s hands on Lucifer’s hips. Lucifer in Adam’s lap. They laughed at the silliness of the situation. When the laughter died down they were still sitting there. Their faces close, there was a moment.

They looked at each other. Lucifer could get off of Adam’s lap and they could pretend this never happened. But Adam wasn’t pushing him away. His hands held onto Lucifer’s hips firmly. It was hard not to notice they were both hard. Lucifer leaned a little closer, Adam closed his eyes.

Adam spent the night.

They didn’t talk about what happened and at the next fight, things were awkward. Until they got into the fight and their guy knocked the other fighter out. They high fived. Instead of pulling apart, they started to hold hands. By the final bell Lucifer was pressed into the couch cushions as Adam left love bites along his neck.

Adam spending the night after they watched a fight became a ritual. Then one night Adam tried to cancel. His ex needed him to watch the kids because of a family emergency. Three rambunctious boys that weren’t allowed to watch the fights because they tended to copy what they watched on tv.

Lucifer insisted he and the boys come over anyway. They could watch a movie, order pizza… spend the night. Lucifer could record the fight and they could watch it after the boys go to sleep in the guest room, upstairs in Lucifer’s room, with a locked door… so the boys couldn’t see the fight.

Adam had to admit to Eve that he’s kind of seeing a guy. She doesn’t like the kind of. Nor the boys going over like that. It would be one thing if Adam and Lucifer were serious. But she doesn’t like Adam bringing a fling around the boys. But Adam wants to bring the boys around Lucifer. He likes Lucifer. He wants to be with Lucifer.

Maybe do more than watch fights and fuck. So he asks Lucifer out on a real date.

Lucifer had been a little afraid of taking the next step, a little afraid of asking Adam out, a little afraid all Adam wanted was to watch a fight and then fuck.

It was a weight off his chest for Adam to ask him out. Happily, Lucifer agrees to a date.

Perhaps the start of their relationship is a little odd, a pair of hot heads fighting, but that was the last fight they ever had. With each other anyway. Susan at the PTA meeting had it coming

[ishikawayukis]

tip culture in the states is kinda insane because why are people expecting you to tip literally everyone that has done a job for you

[julietsbody]

innocence — modern ! coriolanus snow + reader : your friends ask you to get some drugs from the local dealer, but you never expect he would take a liking to you.

tags : 18+!!! MDNI!!! drug dealing ! coryo, drugs, praise kink, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, porn with feelings, p in v sex, fingering, special treatment

coriolanus snow hated parties, they were loud, and the people were insufferable— but he needed the money from the things he sold. cocaine, weed, even some ecstasy. whatever the people wanted, whatever helped support his grandmother and cousin. they weren’t living in the most luxury like all the other people who held parties in these neighborhoods, so that’s why coriolanus attended them, they always paid the most.

he typically got douchebags or stuck - up pretty girls, they both always paid him in crumpled up ones that he took forever to straighten out and count— what a bunch of assholes.

what he never expected, though, was you, coming up to the man dressed in a korn shirt and baggy jeans with a bow in your hair as well as wearing a pretty dress. your doe eyes peered up at him when you tapped his shoulder, he turned, eyes slotting down to meet yours, “hey.”

“hi,” you hesitate, cute, “i.. do you sell drugs?”

he clears his throat, “sorry?”

“do you—“

“probably shouldn’t repeat yourself, doll,” he tips his head up, “i do, are you buying?“

“just for my friends, yeah,” you smile shyly at him, and he returns it.

you’re so innocent, had you ever done any drugs before? definitely not the ones he sells, maybe the weed, but cocaine or ecstasy? no, no way. if it were for you, he wouldn’t be selling you it anyway. coriolanus had a certain soft spot, if you will, for the innocent girls that wander up to him at parties with their batting eyelashes and naturally pouted lips.

“alright, let’s go upstairs,” he tips his head to the stairs, chuckling when you move to give a thumbs up to your friends before following after him, “why do they make you ask for them?”

he suddenly moves back to grab your wrist when the halls find themselves crowded, not wanting to lose you in the sea of people, nor you lose him. you were a client, a customer, and he always treats his customer this way.

loud incorrect buzzer.

he doesn’t!

coriolanus never dares to allow himself to sweeten up around his customers, or anyone, but something about your shy, deer like attitude— it had a wolf wanting to protect.

“they say they’re too nervous to do it themselves,” you finally answer when he leads you into the nearest empty room, closing the door behind you.

he finally lets go of your wrist, “that so? what are they askin’ for?”

“cocaine,” you swallow.

“then they’re not nervous,” he chuckles, having to deal with his fair share of cocaine users, none of them are nervous to approach him, “why do you let them push you around?”

he moves to sit on the bed, chopping up the cocaine from his pocket on the nightstand next to him. he typically doesn’t like when his customers stand over him, because he never knows what they will do, and he likes to be in control at all times— but you’re harmless, aren’t you? just a little deer.

you exhale a nervous laugh, “they’re not pushing me around, they’re just asking me for favors.”

he hums, eyes peering up at you as his hands absentmindedly work on the pearl powder, it was muscle memory for him at this point. “you promise you’re not doing this shit, too?”

“i promise,” your lips tip up to a curt smile, “it’s really.. scary, honestly.”

he exhales, eyes trailing over the curves of your face before they meet the nightstand again, swiping the powdered sugar like substance into a little baggie. you watch him, almost admiring, “yeah. it is really scary, dangerous, too— don’t want you doin’ this shit too.”

a warm feeling courses through your veins, you hardly realize he’s holding the baggies out for you until he clears his throat, you blink a few times, quickly trying to grasp the money you had— it wasn’t given to you by your friends to spend for them, it was just your own money. how cruel.

“it’s on the house,” he quickly says, almost unaware of what he was saying himself until it finally passes his lips.

you bat your lashes at him, “what—“

“free, doll, just take it,” he allows himself a faint smile.

you hesitantly reach to take the baggies, “are you sure…?”

he nods, “‘m positive.”

“thank you, snow,” his eyebrows furrow at how sweet his name sounds on your tongue, like nectar delivered by the kindest dove from the gods.

you turn to leave, but he quickly stands, “hey—“ he pauses, eyes sweeping over your figure as he tries to figure out what to say, you probably go to millions of parties with your asshole friends, possibly with other dealers.. “some other dealers are gonna try to rip you off, make you pay a lot for a little bit— so just, come to me and i’ll treat you good as long as you’re staying out of trouble, princess.”

“okay, i will,” you nod quickly.

“good girl.”

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

you don’t see coriolanus for a while after that night, it has been no more than a few days, less than a week but the idea of you is rotting in his brain and eating him whole from the inside out. at every party he went to, every girl with a bow in their hair (he despises that it’s the latest trend) or wearing a baby pink dress reminds him of you. with their fluttering lashes and soft smiles, god, he hates that he sees you in every one of them. he hates that you have completely plagued his entire conscience, but yet he never complains about it, not once.

sometimes, sejanus, one of the other known dealers, though he more so considers himself a look - out when coriolanus is selling, or a promoter for coriolanus’ business— he notices how coriolanus’ eyes linger more than usual on the women at parties, it almost makes him laugh, or tease coriolanus.

isn’t he supposed to be intimidating? not a man easily falling for women.

a lover boy, that’s what he seemed like now.

sejanus swishes around his drink in his cup, eyes falling to coriolanus, “what’s up with you?”

coriolanus blinks once, twice, “what are you talking about?”

“you haven’t blinked in like an hour,” sejanus liked to overexaggerate, “are you okay?”

“of course i am,” he scoffs, “‘m gonna find arachne.”

arachne, sejanus’ best friend, albeit she talks so much shit about him behind his back. sejanus is sweet, passive, and arachne is the complete opposite. some would call arachne a maneater, coriolanus thinks of her as a conceited bitch who needs to be put on a leash. she had a tendency to run off whenever she went to parties with coriolanus and sejanus, so coriolanus always had to run after her to try and find her.

sejanus nods, offering a small i’ll look too.

coriolanus allows sejanus to walk the opposite way as he turns the corner, eyes scanning each room for a brunette with a bold red lip. he doesn’t find her anywhere, god, she better not be having sex in one of the rooms upstairs like how she was last time. coriolanus likes to think opening that door to that sight was something out of a horror movie.

he does find a different brunette, though, with more golden tones and curlier hair.

festus creed, of fucking course creed is here. he was another one of the other well known dealers in the area. he wasn’t that well with his sells, mostly because he acts like he’s above everyone else in the worst way possible, and even allows people to pay with sex.

coriolanus heard his sex is never good.

funny, isn’t it? how someone with a small dick and hardly any skills on pleasing women would offer sex as payment.

coriolanus, at least, thinks it’s hilarious.

what he doesn’t think is hilarious, though, is that festus is talking to someone coriolanus is far too familiar with. glittery eye makeup, a lacy bow in their hair, baby pink dress.. it’s you.

coriolanus’ mouth runs dry when you spot him in the corner of your eye, your lips twisting into a sugar - coated grin as soon as your eyes widen, “snow!”

you immediately move to give him a hug, festus’ searing gaze following your every movement in the creepiest way possible— god, coriolanus hates him. his fingers lace around your waist, tugging you close, “hey, princess.”

“princess?” festus snickers.

coriolanus tries to ignore him, but he finds it near impossible with the words that leave your lips next, “this is festus, my friend, do you know him?”

coriolanus scoffs, does he know him, what a joke, “i know of him.”

festus finds himself chuckling bitterly, “is that right, pretty boy?”

coriolanus takes a step, and you feel a certain mold of metal against your waist when he does, a gun, his cold lips part, “sure is.”

your eyes roam over his features, the curves of his skin when his brows collide, the way his eyes darken with malice, the grit of his sharp teeth, the flush of his jaw against his flesh as he moves it. his muscles flex underneath his baggy band t - shirt, veins pulsing. he was angry.

festus’ lips part, but you speak before him, “snow?”

his head nods in your direction, but he doesn’t say anything.

“answer your girl, snow,” festus taunts.

“go upstairs,” he mumbles, it’s to you.

so you do.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

coriolanus sighs when he closes the door behind him, coming in mere minutes later. you had been sitting on the bed in the vacant room, fingers playing together, eyes glossed over in fear and pricking with tears. coriolanus wasn’t the only one who carried, but you didn’t hear any shots, fortunately.

“kid’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbles, cracking his bruising knuckles, “he’s not sellin’ you shit, is he?”

“sometimes—“

“don’t buy from him anymore,” coriolanus pauses, swallowing, “he laces his shit sometimes.”

it was true, festus was messy with his work, he didn’t lace the products himself but the people that distributed them to him would, he was just too lazy to even notice.

“i’m sorry,” it comes out hushed, a mere whisper, but coriolanus’ ears pick up on it easily.

his tone is softer now, “why?”

“i didn’t know—“

“then don’t apologize,” his head tips to the side, sniffling the bubbling blood in his nose, he inhales, pupils wide as they roam your features. a glass tear raced down your pliant cheek, and he immediately moved to carefully wipe it away, “don’t cry, doll.”

you don’t say anything, merely melt into his touch. coriolanus isn’t good with affection, he’s hardly had any girlfriend before and if he has, they don’t last long due to his struggles with showing kindness. so it’s obvious the next word that leaves his mouth isn’t one born from honeysuckle, “cocaine?”

your lips move nervously, bottom lip tugging under your teeth as your mascara covered lashes move to his frost - bitten eyes, “do you have.. ecstasy?”

his lips drop to a frown, “why?”

your lips tremble when they part, cheeks heating under his touch, “my friends want to try it.”

“no,” he swallows, jaw ticking, “i’m not selling you that shit.”

“what? why not?”

“that shit is too dangerous,” he chuckles, albeit it’s bitterness, “i don’t want you around that, it’s trouble.”

“i’ve been good,” you reassure, hips swaying when you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“have you, now?” his thumb is gently rubbing against your skin.

“i have, i promise,” you offer, feeling his fingers move so his thumb is now moving against your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth ever so slightly.

you smile around it and his pupils dilate even more, are his eyes blue anymore or merely just sole pupil? “naughty girl.”

then he stops, as if he had realized something, and pulled away. your lips curve downward to a frown, desperate to have his touch again, “snow?”

“don’t,” his molars collide, “i’ll hurt you.”

“that’s okay—“

“—i’m bad news—“

“—i don’t think that—“

“—i’m dangerous, doll.”

you hesitate, inhaling sharply, “but you won’t hurt me.”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute, “so, you want cocaine?”

you give him a careful nod, and he smiles. again, he’s being sweet.

“you know how to chop up cocaine?”

you allow yourself a giggle, “you know i don’t.”

“i’ll show you.”

and he does, his hand is gentle as it guides yours, fingers curling against the curve of your own as he crushes up the cocaine, guiding you to chop it up with the card he gave you. you’re warm underneath his cold touch, his movements experienced whilst yours are new. “how many times have you done this?”

he shrugs, breath fresh against the shell of your ear, “a couple hundred, for sure.”

“i could help you, you know, with the business,” you offer, despite not even really wanting to.

“no,” his fingers are tighter against your skin, but not enough to hurt, “i don’t want you in this business, you being around me is dangerous enough.”

“you’re not dangerous, snow,” you hush out.

he moves closer, and you feel his gun brush against your ass, lips curving into a smile, “you think so?”

you shiver from the touch, it’s loaded, the safety is probably off, “i know so.”

your thighs push together, he feels it, making him chuckle, “you’re so needy, princess.”

“snow,” you breathe out, “this isn’t fair.”

“how so?” he presses a soft kiss behind your ear, “just because you aren’t getting what you want?”

“do you want it?” you pause your movements.

“of course i do, i want it as much as you,” he moves your fingers so you drop the card, guiding them to his bulge, “‘m just not spoiled.”

you frown at his works, fingers curving around his bulge, god, how big was he? “‘m not spoiled either.”

“whatever you say, princess,” he grits out.

you palm him so well, it nearly has him rutting against your hand, breathing getting heavier against your ear. his fingers move to trail down down your back, dipping underneath the hem of your skirt and tracing along the thin material of your lace panties. his jaw shifts, “such a dirty girl, wearing these panties.”

you whimper when his fingers graze along the soaked part of your panties, thick fingers brushing against your clothed clit, “please— snow.”

“please what, princess?” you mumble something in response, but it’s nearly incoherent, more of a whimper, “use your words.”

he moves to pull your panties to the side, now touching your bare clit, making your thighs tremble, “i need— fuck, i need you— inside.”

he nods, pressing kisses along the side of your neck, finding himself already pussy - drunk. it almost felt sacrificial, a sinful man dipping his fingers inside of a goddess, the way you moaned at the feeling of his finger stretching you out— it was as if he could be confessing of his sins at any minute.

to see your hips bucking against his finger, his name hushed on the tip of your delicate tongue. didn’t you know that many people wanted him dead? how many people hated him? how the police could arrest him at any second? yet you didn’t care, a lamb to the slaughter, a deer in between the jaws of a wolf.

yet you were rutting against his hand, begging for more, desiring him to push another finger in— and he did exactly that, prepping your tight cunt for his cock, “you’re so fuckin’ tight, doll, i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“it will— it will, i know it will—,” you’re just babbling nonsense at this point, and coriolanus wanted to be gentle, he really did, but your sweet moans, your sugary whimpers, the way he so easily pushed his fingers inside of you, the way that when you curl, your moans up a few octaves. you were so sensitive, god, were you a virgin?

the thought had coriolanus pulling his fingers out, twirling you around so he can push his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as his other hand undoes the belt holding his baggy jeans up. his eyes are crystalizing the memory of your tongue swirling against his fingers, sucking up every taste of your own cunt— have you thought of this as many times as he has?

he moves his hand to take his gun before it falls, placing it on the counter behind you, his fingers move from your mouth to help him push his jeans down, your lips part, “why do you have a gun?”

he smiles sweetly at your words, nearly chuckling, “why do you think?”

“‘m not sure, that’s why i asked,” you had a certain tinge in your voice that makes him quirk a brow.

“it’s to protect myself, princess,” he pushes his boxers down, finally freeing his cock, “now be a good girl, turn around, and bend over.”

of course you do exactly what he asks, bending over the counter so he can push your skirt up. the feeling of your innocence being stripped away right in front of you was far too good, like a cross ripped from the chain around your neck, or your holy water being unpurified. you were a cupcake with frosting on top, and coriolanus was sinking his teeth into you, rotting his sweet tooth.

his dick slaps against your heat when your legs part with desire, making you whine against nothing, “snow— please..”

“just say it, princess,” he moves to rub his red tip against your clit, making you shudder, knees buckling already.

“fuck me— f..fuck me,” you repeatedly beg.

he moves closer to press a sweet kiss on the back of your neck, bones colliding when his cock finally pushes into your cunt. you were so tight around him, squeezing him around your velvet walls. your jaw falls slack when you gasp at the feeling of him stretching you out, his lips pull tight together in a grunt, “so tight for me, princess— jesus christ..”

his breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. your fingers graze along the gun placed on the counter, right next to the cocaine. his tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the counter with the sheer snap of his hips. your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

it’s so obscene, all of the things that he finds himself spitting out as he harshly bucks into you. so cute, jus’ wanna ruin you, takin’ my cock so well, that feel good princess? he can’t help the way his hands snake up to your hair, tugging at the pretty bow wrapped around it, earning a frosted moan from your glossed lips.

it’s not long until you’re cuming on his cock, with him pulling out to twirl you around and push you to your knees, allowing you to jerk him off until thick white stripes are decorating your face. the white glitter, the sweet scent of your lip - gloss, now accompanied by his cum.

how cute.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbles as he tucks his dick back in his boxers, pulling his jeans back up when your painted nails move to wipe away the cum on your face, lapping it up with your pretty tongue.

you giggle sweetly, “do you do this with all your customers?”

he shakes his head, “no, doll, you’re special, you know that.”

and it’s true, you really were special.

you were a dangerous man’s doll.

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something. 

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning. 

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.” 

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control. 

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number! 

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel. 

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands. 

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number. 

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him. 

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.” 

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up. 

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business. 

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?” 

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…” 

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man. 

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?” 

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?” 

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -” 

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!” 

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!” 

He blinked. 

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury. 

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest. 

“Um.” 

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength. 

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge? 

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?” 

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean. 

“Jay.” 

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation. 

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it. 

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

[cruel-as-sin]

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ ⌇ SHARING IS CARING. featuring s. kong + t. fushiguro.

↻ shiu gives toji an offer too good to refuse.

tags : voyeurism, phone sex, male masturbation, dirty talk, cowgirl, mentions of threesomes, slut shaming // wc. 0.7k

author’s note : there isn’t enough shiu content out there ‘m afraid, and it HURTS MEE considering i love him from infinity 2 infinity. toji and shiu are the BADDEST 2man out there and i for one would not mind gettin backshots from both ;p as always, notes n reblogs are much appreciated !! (and thank you for 300 followers!)

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

for TOJI FUSHIGURO, finding work is hard. he can’t exactly just stroll into the next place that’s hiring and hand in his cv like every other person, because unlike every other person, toji’s cv would be filled to the brim with the names of all the people he’s killed.

toji fushiguro is an assassin, and it would be a lie to say that sometimes he doesn’t hate his fucking job.

“you got anything for me?” he sits on his beaten up couch, chopsticks in hand and horse races on the television as he slurps up the last of his cup ramen. “c’mon, boss. there’s gotta be somethin’. everybody wants somebody dead these days.”

“i’m afraid not.” his boss, or more, his contractor, SHIU sighs on the other end of the line. “i told you i’d call if i had anything. work’s tight for me too.”

the line goes silent, and although shiu hasn’t quite hung up yet, toji throws back his head and groans. how hard is it for an assassin to find somebody to kill these days? the whole gig isn’t particularly helpful, either. he gets paid in lump amounts with no idea when his next job is coming through, and at times like this, toji does in fact consider paying a visit to the job centre.

just as he’s about to thank shiu for jack shit and hang up, a muffled whine on the other line drags him out of his thoughts.

“you got your girl there with you, boss?”

“i’m at home. ‘course she’s here with me.”

toji smiles. “hi there, lil’lady. whatcha up to?”

on the other end of the line, you bury your head into shiu’s neck, face flushed as you halt all movement on his lap. “nothin’.”

“don’t sound like nothin’ to me, doll. he treatin’ you good?” toji hears shiu laugh quietly through the phone.

“she doesn’t answer to you, idiot. and for the record, i’m givin’ her everything she needs and more, isn’t that right, baby?” he grinds his hips upwards and you gasp at the feeling of his tip nudging your sweet spot. “tell him how good ‘m treatin’ you.”

by this point, toji’s muted the races and put down his chopsticks, switching his phone to loudspeaker and balancing it on his shoulder so he can hear every sweet sound you’re making. his cock is out of his sweats in no time, precum staining his shirt as his tip presses up onto his abdomen.

“ ‘s g-good,” you hiccup, tears in your eyes as shiu rests a hand on your ass and starts to move you back and forth on his length. “so good, ‘n so big.”

“mm, bet that’s right, angel,” toji drawls, hand occupied with fisting his cock in time with the faint shlicking sounds echoing through his speaker. “how ‘bout next time, you get two cocks instead of one?”

“don’t get too ahead of yourself, zenin. she’s my bitch.” shiu’s tone is sour as he bucks his hips upwards, causing you to whine out.

“yeah, but I bet that slut would take it if we gave it to her.” toji grins, hand quickening when he hears you groan on the other end of the line. “sounds like she’d like that. ‘n i already told you, it’s fushiguro.”

“same difference.” it sounds like shiu’s struggling to maintain an even tone when he feels you clench down on him hard, teeth gritting as your nails dig into the fabric of his suit. “but i agree, it seems like she likes your idea. next time, instead of paying you a lump sum, i’ll let you fuck her instead.”

toji smiles, head tilting backwards as he feels his stomach begin to tighten. “nuh-uh, i still want my money.” his thumb flicks over the slit on his tip, swiping up the precum and spreading it along his pulsing length. “but i’ll take you up on your offer. cant want to try out her sweet cunt.”

on the other end of the line, you squeal, walls clamping down on shiu as you reach your climax. a loud slap resounds through toji’s phone and he grunts, ropes of white painting his knuckles as he finishes in his palm.

“she came too early. only started fuckin’ her since the time you called.”

“sounds like you haven’t been treating your bitch too well, boss, otherwise she wouldn't have been so desperate.” toji smiles, looking at the mess on his hands and shirt. “call me when you have another job. can’t wait to get my sweet reward.”

and with that, he hangs up.

PREVIOUS : DRESS UP DOLL ft. satoru gojo NEXT : FWB ft. aki hayakawa

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© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[sxorpiomooon]

D10 ASCENDANT AND WHAT IT MEANS

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Aries-

You will never have a home office or working at home sort of thing. You WILL always have to present in order to earn money. This also means that you will also initiate the things, the one who will have to put all the effort to climb up in your life one man army is what I heard. Someone who will take all the risks. You will do all that taking the paths one cannot even imagine taking. Extremely ambitious and having an i am going to make it happen sort of approach. Facing so many challenges yet being able to accomplish things. You'll face the most challenges but will come out strong every single time. There is also a big karma regarding authority, you might have to be treated like a servant at times. You will be forced to follow the same routine everyday to climb up for a long time. You will also have to go through a major transformation with a death in your family. You will want to be in the actual setting to do something or feel the passion energy to do things. You will want to always have a mentor or guru in your life in your career, your problems will be solved with the help of the guru. Your communication will be very rough especially with small talk. You wil excel in works where you just have to do the actual work instead of communicating. You will have to physically get shit done. You will want to be a part of an organisation. This will be the kind of job that will make you run for everything. You will always be surrounded with people and competition having to prove yourself and will have to do some sort of corporate work at least once in your life. You will also always somehow have to impress someone by being at the right place at the right time. You will always want to be put in different kinds of teams just to rule them or just to come out as the one who shines the brightest. Also something that's seen is that these people usually never have the authority being nice to them and they have to work very hard to be picked by them.

Taurus-

You will go after the value of things, you will chase values. Before doing anything you will ask "what is in it for me" "how does it includes my value" etc. You will be inclined towards getting financial support in doing what you are doing, you will not be scared of asking for help. Very charming with your communication, charming and people will always be attracted towards you. Naturally will want to work with alot of people. You will love attending conferences they will help you in rising your status. You will be good at gathering people in one ideal place haha. Your business partnerships will always be 1-1. There will always be transformations in your career, the partnerships will come and go, your relationship with subordinate will always have struggle regarding passion you will always find partners that will not have as much as passion as you, they will be too analytical with you, you guys will not share the same vision on doing things or they won't see the value of things like you do. There will hardly be any collective interest on any topic. You will love speculative work and will have alot of several good support systems in your profession. Women in your career will bring you success. You will always want to have a strict boss because toullexcel under them, they wish for their authority to be firm. Travelling for your career will be very beneficial for you if not for money then for fame, your coworkers will have a strong emotional connection with you and will be very nourishing towards them. Commercial property will be seen and you will always gain from the politics of your office but will have issues with partnerships. There is also karma with marriage as in you might have a hard time balancing marriage and career as in either you'll be focusing too much on career and too little on your marriage or vice versa. When your mentor will pass away, you will stumble upon wealth out of nowhere. Their mentors will be very secretive. You will never share where/who you get your values from.

Gemini-

you will fulfill your karma through media, sports, marketing, writing etc in one way or another. You are naturally multi skilled to achieve your goals, you will do bunch of things to gain success and money. Major karma in dealing with daily routine, they will not want to be repetitive ever. You will like to be left alone and free in doing your work and making your money. You don't like people looking at you while you are working. They hate judgements regarding their work. You will have to take debt in career or marriage. You will love making money for food. You will want to try out expensive food for which you'll want to earn money. It will be your motivation to earn money and be successful. You will find respect only when you communicate as an authority. To be treated as a surperior, communicate and say your opinion. You might also feel restriction about sharing your opinions as in there will be a delimma regarding that. "I want to say something but I fear I'll be judged if I do so after" things like this might make you feel extremely restricted. Your marriage or first child birth will help your career in rising it could be a turning point especially in business the prestige and recognition will increase. You will be good at networking, you'll have a good circle. You will be good especially with men they might help you in your career. Extremely creative even with the smallest work you will finish the work with your own sparkle. You will personify everything also excellent at marketting anything that they're passionate about

Cancer-

You will play the most politics in work, you will know how to keep everyone in control and in your environment you will feel a need to control things sort of like also nourish anyone. You will be extremely selfish in your career, you will look out for yourself before anything or anyone else. You have major karma with your subordinates you will not be able to ignore any issue regarding them and will have to deal with it. You will be forced in situations where you'll be stuck. At one point in your career you will be embarassed at in a large group of people. You will be humiliated at work place. The entire situation will actually not be too big but you will make big for yourself. There will be a big blunder with finances in career or fame in career. You'll be very calculated in your career can be completely different in their workspace and personal life. Even calculative with communication you will want to get advantage of things. There will be alot of support networking circle for you because you'll be extremely hypnotic and charismatic. After you sign your home documents you'll have more leverage in career. You will lack mentors in your life and counselors at work will be very young for you. You will love to start your own projects etc.

Leo-

Only after birth of children career takes off, you will only want the kind of work where you'll be able to have subordinates. You will have alot of pride and will want to distribute tasks and show people working under you that you will also want to take care of them. You will always deal with opposition of large group of people but the authority will always have your back. You will see that they won't like most of your decisions. You have major karma with your offices or place of work. As long as you work you'll never have peace of mind as it'll always be disturbed by work in one way or another. Having a female or feminine boss will help you in excelling in your career, your mentors will always back you when you need them to and you will feel secure due to that. You will at some point be taking professional debt in behalf of your company etc. In business be very careful with this as it might be deritmental to your fame repaying for the loan will be hard. Your subordinates will always be more smarter than you and you will have to get their help. Unless people see that you working, you won't get the same amount of fame or respect. You will always sort of travel very emotionally there will be profit in business travel(if it's your own) once you sign or get your own first house.

Virgo-

You will always have unnecessarily enemies trying to bring you down out of no where in daily life no matter what profession, they will purposely try to stop you from finding some sucess or promotion atleast one or twice in life directly. There will be alot of rumors said about you. Serving will be the most important thing for you, it will be a need want and an obligation to the society. Any career won't work out if you take something from people your health will suffer. You will have to take debts to progress in life. After a girl will be born in household your health, career will improve. You enemies will disappear. You will have to take care of administrative duties frequently as in accounts finances etc. your communication with your boss will be the best especially when they're younger to you. You will also see your older bosses always seeing you as a competition or challenge. You will always have ups and downs with your coworkers and will go through a major transformation when a co worker will pass away but will have the best subordinate. Might have one student or subordinate that will have some sort of injury to limbs. Any female mentor that you have especially one that is in some way connected to foreign will give you million dollar advices.

Libra-

You will feel an imbalance and unfairness in your partnerships whether it's in marriage or a proper business partnership. You will always somehow be dominated by your partner, even in their marriage uou will be dominated by the other person or atleast it'll be seen like that. Even if your partner is a very kind person people will always sort of see it like them having this power over you or being assertive and dominant over you. You will try out business atleast once or twice in your life but it will remain extremely unfair as stated above. Your life will become about other people. Sharing everything, naturally always wanting to mother their working environment. You will also have really moody bosses lmao and will face very awkward situations with them. You will also become selfish, forgeful and dramatic in your communication. You will like to publish and write and will indirectly or directly have to publish something once in your life I heard "land in an opportunity". Your coworkers will become your real mentor and you will find the most wisdom from there. Your real actual bosses will always be like a friend for you lmao. You will always be chatting with them and there will be constant communication. You will have really powerful connections and will always need or require a partner in order to feel balanced. There will also be unbalanced transformation with money and you'll learn to to save alot of money due to that. You will always have subordinate that will be eccentric and hard to understand. You will also attend many confrences with your subordinate and will gain alot of money from them including insights. You will love to work in a home like setting and will have the least amount of enemies in career

Scorpio-

major karma and will go through many ups and downs and transformation before you make it. Will have to go through the lowest of the lowest and highest of the highest, involvement with hidden wealth secret dealings gain and will attain secret information through which you will rise. You will also have to deal with secret contracts in order to grow. You will see that birth of children will be important for fame and to gain authority you must support group of children in some way donate if you can if not money then time. You will always be the most excellent vocalist or speakers since you'll have tremendous wisdom even when you are young due to going through so many transformations. It is not what you are communicating but how you are communicating. Guru is important help to accumulate wealth and success. Sexual relationship will connect you to success and you will be excellent at last minute negotiation and dealings. Take care of the plumbing issues in your career as it'll affect your fame and health. Spouse will have best ideas for you in terms of making money. You will be extremely interested in politics after the age 34 or 40. You will also want to fight for a cause. There can also be addiction issues so take care of that. You will have a great bond with a person who will be from the foreign lands. There will be a sistery or brotherly sort of bond. A job where projects keep changing will be extremely beneficial for you.

Saggitarius -

You have the ability to teach and counsel in your work. You will be extremely strategic in your work and will have to display the ability to perform and teach others during work at the same time. You will sort of be like dictionary of wisdom, sort of like a "coach" to others improve other people work while doing yours. You will value information and knowledge more than anything. It will be your most perseved asset being more valuable than money and will have a very professional way of communication. You will get the message across. Your coworkers will be eccentric and moody extremely scientific too. You will be extremely negotiable with your career to the public. Very liberal indivualised thought process will have very harmonious subordinates. Your business competition will have very childlike communication and enemies will always be amateur than you. Your partners won't have the same level of knowledge as you but your partnership will work out well. You will have a sort of father child dynamic with them. You hide emotions insecurities in your workspace. Your authority will be powerful and will be nitpicking but they'll help you in improving your career. Your mentor will be connected with government in one point of your life and your professional network circle will be good.

Capricorn-

You will give extreme importance to having a title for example phd ceo etc. The title will make you feel as if now you can do something or are something. Extremely workoholic and extremely feminine in your workplace won't be aggresive or rude but very moody. You will love having partnerships this also includes having a pa etc. it will be something you will need, want and cherish. Your emotional stability will depends on that particular partnership you will completely rely on them and will feel like you can't function without them. You will pay them the most to satisfy them. You will also extremely eccentric to confused with your savings as in one moment you'll want to save it and another moment you'll want to spend it on buying some big ass random shit. You will have the most polite communication with people yet people working with you will be the most oblivion to your dreams and communication. They will not understand what you mean and want. You will have a strange bond with your female boss and it'll take alot from you to balance your relationship with them. You will be satisfied hrough your subordinates and when you hire or have people working under you. You will have foreign mentor gives you wisdom and who helps you this person will be nitpicky and detail orientated. They will be enemies with much younger and childish people and will always have words of words with them.

Aquarius-

You will be a part of a large organisation, large group setting and will want to be part of collective to execute work. You will want to attend conference work and will be easily influenced by activitism. You will be very political and will get sucessful through powerful partner yet will never be able to accept that. You will want to be free and make your own decisions and will have a love/hate relationship will that. As in you'll gain with them yet you'll hate to accept that. After the birth of first child especially with women within three weeks you will get a higher status in life. You will be extremely emotional and attached to your work. Your work can drive you mad too and emotional stability will depend on your career. You will hate to get involved with enemies and won't like to deal with it at all your relationship with mentor will always be turbent and will always have ups and downs. You will see that after passing away of some authority there will be a major transformation in career. you will have to service to goverment or boss with the little pay or respect as in it won't be balanced or fair in some way. You will get along with subordinates and will have alot of exchange of ideas with them. Your communication will be straightforward and people will have to actually spend some time with you to get your communication or understand it atleast third. You can be very radical and will think that you are right and everything else is an attack on you. You will have boundaries in doing your work, will find the most unorthodox way of doing work that others will not get. Network circle will always have mature, religious, philosophical people in it. Might have to go to a foreign place to establish themselves or foreign company. You will get wealth and money by listening to a mentor guru but will hate to accept that the guru knows more than them

Pisces-

You will always be on the move, always looking for a change and actively looking for opportunities. You become the protector in your career. Great importance of safety through your careerand will be the one who guides. You will have strong connection with farway bodies as in across oceans. Trouble with communication as you can be the most harshest communicators. Very direct and blunt in your communication as in "what is wrong" "fix this" etc short and direct. You value people being proactive and only respect people who are like this. You will love starting new career or projects. You will have beautiful relationship with your coworkers and will tind great joy through your work. You will also always have subordinate who will take care of you and will be very nourishing towards you might even take care of you when you are sick. You will always have powerful business competition or rivals. There might be issues with govt some sort of debt major transformation in expenses and mentors. You will love having secret work relationships, you will find it exciting. You will always have educated bosses at authority. You will have connection with highly political people. One of them might even become your rival so be careful with that. You will love to attend conferences in foreign land and will have to spend a lot of money on that but usually you guys are blessed by a devi(goddess) to do well financially

Thankyou sm!!!

alot of this is taken from krs channel and other pdfs found on google and a very few of them are my observations since most people around me are not yet working or doing anything regarding their career if you can and want to help me by sharing your or your loved ones d10 chart for me to make my own observations please feel free to do so I'll be very grateful<3

[neptunes-sol-angel]

"I'm finna get this sh*t off my chest and lay it to rest". Pick the gif(s) that you're drawn to the most, then scroll for its corresponding message of me dissing your haters! 🐍🤭

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Pile One

Your haters are definitely people that are from your past which could consist of those who you’ve shared a close connection with and a group of individuals that were prominent in your childhood. These people made you discover both the positives and negatives that come with the feeling of being passionate, meaning at some point they made you feel really high about yourself and could have been the reason for one of your moments where you felt really low. You could have had an explosive argument with them or have experienced mounds of anger because they’ve betrayed you in a way that involves using your sensitivities as a way to manipulate you and degrade you. Just a lot of bullying energy here, maybe their goal was to make you feel less significant or capable and alone because of your interests that are considered taboo. They could be dark empaths or people pleasers who aren’t equipped enough to handle conflict without throwing someone, regardless of how close you are with them or how long you’ve known them for, under the bus and could also struggle with finding their own independence and confidence to stand up for those that they were supposed to love or what makes them authentic. I feel like your haters are just sore losers, they don’t know how to accept when they’ve lost. What’s pathetic is that they’ve spent so much time trying to get rid of you because they assumed it would make them superior or elevate them in a social circle. Your haters could show a lot of cowardice in a way that blocks them from being creative or gaining in their career, social network, or reputation.You and your haters could have similar backgrounds but cope very differently. They’re very impatient and could make impulsive and destructive choices for fast rewards that may feel beneficial when they gain them but turn ineffective as fast as when they received it. They’re great at conducting illusions though. At one point you could have seen them as crafty, but they’re a one trick pony. Their method in tearing someone down includes repetitively bringing up the same insults to cover up the fact that they can’t roast or really say anything truly jarring about you so they cling to that one thing to see if it will stick. I don’t even think your words are something that hurts you, it’s the fact that they intend to  stoop low is what hurts you. I see several themes of them trying to utilize shame. Shaming you for your quirks is the most obvious but I see a lot of sexual themes too. Your haters could have tried to make you feel as if you were less of the gender that you identify with or they’ve used slut shaming tactics with you which could have been severely traumatizing if you were really young and in school. They’re the type to not have anything else on you so they start making up stuff to again, see it sticks. I feel like you clapback at this by being who they’re not, which is someone that doesn’t care about what others have to say about them. You don’t answer to gossip or let someone convince you that your likes are what will keep you behind, you acknowledge that your likes are what makes you the shit and it shows in how people are positively drawn to you and want to see and hear more from you without you having to wear a mask for people to “like” you. Your haters can’t relate and that’s why they’re upset. You make them even more mad when you’re empowering and accepting yourself while they’re trying to expose you, even if they do it through lies, you’re like “Ok. This is who I am. Now what?” and this is how the tables turn.

What they did to you was a displacement of their own anger towards people they feel lower than which is a lot of people, including you. They got buck with you because they saw your kindness as a weakness and that was their mistake. What makes this pathetic is that they spent so much energy trying to get rid of you just to come back to see if they can have a seat at your table because they see you’re doing big things, that you’re happier without them, and that it’s no fun throwing away genuine people to impress people who don’t care at all about them. As much as they tried to make it seem like you’re invisible, you’re now in their minds rent free. What your haters don’t see coming, is how they’re about to recognize how extremely wrong in not just their actions towards you, but their judgment in how you weren’t going to be supported. It’s going to be very apparent for people in this pile on how much you guys are actually loved. You’re going to realize that the things that you felt like you missed out on in the past, actually never really mattered. Like for an example, you could have desired to “be like the cool kids” or just “normal,” because of the people that made you feel bad, but you’ll learn that your haters are the type to peak in high school or something that doesn’t really amount to anything in life compared to what you’ve been patiently building for yourself. Maybe you don’t see yourself as patient because you get frustrated, however, I see that it’s because you’ve actually always seen the value in yourself but you’ve dealt with people misunderstanding you which is something you’ve learned is out of your control but your anger is geared towards people who react so negatively to what they can’t be patient on or understand. I’m seeing changes with this that can look like reconciliation with family members who correct their behavior towards you instead of trying to control what you want to do with your life or enabling abusive behavior towards you or you could successfully build a community or a name for yourself where people look up to you or find inspiration from you to instill more confidence and self-love towards yourself but also some form of justice that they’re looking for.

The problem with your haters is they’re lost when it comes to finding their own personality and instead of working on that, they’d rather cling onto other people by shadowing them in some way but they still expect to outshine the source which isn’t at all how it works. They could be grifters or have the tendency to copy others or go after your “hand me downs” so that they can feel like they’re on your level. They’re the type to talk down on what you have but in private try to figure out how they can emulate you. Your name is still on their tongue and embedded in their brains long after you parted ways with them because it’s the only way that they can have relevancy. They’re like salt hating on all the other spices. If they spent more time working on their own flavor instead of trying to tear you down for what makes you stand out, then they would finally find themselves instead of making their bland nature everyone else’s problem. They lack seasoning and it shows in how they treat people. Unfortunately you can’t save them from that, so always remember that you don’t have to get even with them, their misery is already turning them every which way but loose. 

Pile Two

A wise woman named Beauteuss once said “How do you expect me to chase you? Baby, I’m so coquette cunt”. I feel like this is your energy and why you have your haters UPSET with you. You have a superpower that most people are afraid to step into or fail to acquire and control which is to stand on business. This comes so naturally to you that the bare minimum doesn’t even cross your mind when you interact with people. You could have a strong balance of venusian and martian energy, you’re charming and know how to have your way with others without seeming manipulative because you’re an open book. What you see is what you get, you mean what you say, you’re very honest with how you feel about others, and you’re bravely upfront about what you want. People could envy your love life or the attention that you get. They want to know your secret with how you have people wrapped around your finger. They want to know how you’re able to be in situations where you’re taken care of by people while still having authoritative people in a chokehold. In your haters’ mind, they see their connection with you as a wrestling match that they cannot win. Your haters tend to be people who are in your career field or environments both physical or virtual where there’s a competitive atmosphere. They have big personalities that are threatened by your resistance or nonchalant attitude to submit to anyone. It just seems like what you have when it comes to magnetism or magisterial prestige is the real deal that people around you can’t help but respect it even if they initially tried to overpower you. Their dominance is more of a defense mechanism, or like the equivalent of how animals exaggerate their features to scare away bigger predators. They have to create a facade in order to control the situation or others. They aren’t really secure with their accomplishments or faith in themselves because they can’t handle coexisting with people who have strong personalities.

Regardless of your gender, men see you as a threat because they feel like you’re better than them or that you should know your place. You do know your place and that’s the problem. You don’t allow romance to trick you out of your independence or stay in situations that don’t give you what you deserve or what you seek. You are a vibrant seducer, people tend to be engulfed by how you stimulate their self esteem and sexual desires but they mess up by thinking that you’re something to be possessed. Your lovers can turn into your enemies when they realize that they can’t control you or take you away from you wanting your own things. You could have been in multiple jobs where your boss had this mysterious hostility towards you even if you’re doing what you’re supposed to do and don’t really talk as much. It’s because they see that it’s destined for you to be your own boss and outgrow them in terms of professionalism. For people who think that they can’t relate to this energy because it seems exaggerated, it’s because the main thing that your haters fear about you is your potential which is why you attract people in one-sided competitions with you. You destroy your haters by seeing what they see in you. Some things for people are written in the stars, your haters see you as the kind of person who’s able to manifest luck, success, and specific luxuries based on how confident and appealing you are to others and how well life responds to your beliefs. They could be jealous of how what could be delusional or unrealistic for them comes into fruition in your life. They could actually try to believe that you have a big head until they see for themselves that you have physical evidence that back up your confidence and influence on others. Your haters just see you as a reflection of how feeble they are with wanting more for themselves. Your haters could be older people of the same sex as you because you remind them of what they don’t have anymore or regrets over things that they should have pursued in their youth. They could also be jealous of how sensually desirable you are to people both your age and older. They feel like other people see you as someone who can do no wrong. They want your grit, your ability to get things from others, your beauty, your canniness to destroy anyone who does you wrongly, your assertiveness to stand up for yourself, and your reluctance to settle for anything less. What riles your haters is how you don’t have to beg.

You don’t require anyone else’s permission on when and how you can take time for self care. Your colleagues wish they could be like you when it comes to prioritizing yourself or how you think and act like the job needs you more than you need it. You could have a talent for having multiple streams of income. I’m picking up a lot about platforms on social media or you being in an industry where people who may have more than you secretly admire what you bring to the table, but instead of seeing your gifts as something beneficial, they try to hide you or ignore you as a way to stagnate your growth. But I see that it never works because if you’re in a space where people don’t want to give you any credit, you don’t cry over it or invest more of your labor thinking that things will change, you move onto somewhere else and end up still living up to the purpose that people tried to keep you from reaching. This mindset translates itself to many different areas in your life, especially in love. You don’t chase after people withholding their respect for you and it shows your haters that they have a lot of growing to do and evaluation for toying with power dynamics is not serving them in the way that they think it is. You make your haters question if they truly have any finesse or not by making them overthink their position and credibility in life. You make them consider how they’ve been denying themselves from their inner prowess and how they’ve allowed their past failures to consume their competence for optimism and compassion. 

Pile Three

Your haters are obsessed with the fact that you don’t want anything to do with them. These are people who are used to playing back and forth games with other people. They’re so used to always being in drama and chaos or someone chasing after them to continue these same old messy cycles that it completely baffles them when you don’t engage with their toxicity. I’m seeing that you could be really patient with people who keep poking to get a reaction out of you until they go too far. You might cuss them out, but that’s about it. You say what you need to say and feel about this person and then you cut them off and move on with your life. The closure that you give to others is very brief or sharp, people may even consider it as foul, but you don’t do it for anyone’s liking or entertainment, you do it for yourself to release the stress that you’ve been carrying so that it can bring you to a start in your healing journey away from that conflict. Your haters are very lost when it comes to reality and their ego. I see this vision of two people playing a game, one person is constantly cheating throughout it, and when the other person finally decides to walk away, the cheater thinks that they’ve won. They’re proud of themselves until it settles in that they didn’t really win anything, you don’t care anymore, and you’re not coming back to play that game with them any longer and they’re dumbfounded yelling out to you “that’s it? You’re not playing anymore? Wait come back!” and you’re like no thanks, I’m good. I’m actually going to hold your hater’s hand and tell them in the nicest way possible that they need to find a life and that no one is concerned with them since they’ve driven out every single person that’s close to them from their life by being delusional and childish. They want to be the it person so bad by actually thinking that they have haters and that people are obsessed with them when no one cares enough to be. They rely on playing mind games with people to make it seem like they have influence on others and to boost their ego but they have no idea that it’s not the kind that they think. It’s getting to the point where if they’re into spirituality and feel like they’re being evil eyed, then it’s probably 100% true but not because they’re an icon or anything like that. People are wishing for their downfall because this hater does not know when to stop provoking others and will eventually get clocked if they don’t stop.

The universe is special with its timing but humans are faster when they want consequences to be dished out. But this person has a particular obsession with you because you got away unscathed the most from them. Things don’t have to be taken away from them or done to them for them to suffer. The punishment for them that’s going to hurt the most, is them seeing you live your best life, genuinely finding peace and healing away from the hurt that they were going to heavily imprint on your life. They’re going to have to witness you step by step, moving on and finding your groove back with yourself and newer connections with people who will treat you better. This is a teaching moment for them to understand that being toxic is not cute. They will meet their match and it won’t come from a person willing to stoop that low with them. They were mistaken to try their luck with you and now they’ll have no choice but to be haunted with this lingering feeling of you looking down on them forever even when you’re actually looking away (out of sight and out of mind). 

[ukiyowi]

𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐒𝐔𝐒 (𝟑𝟔𝟕𝟏)

𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

Dionysus is the Greek god of wine and festivities and has the power of driving mortals insane. In my opinions, wherever this asteroid is in your chart can show how you are when intoxicated/drunk

Note: My observations, if you don't relate Move. Check out my tarot PACs and paid readings of you're interested!

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⌂ Houses

𐃯 1st: Loud and the life of the party, want all eyes on you, may become the centre of attention, may start getting into drinking competitions at parties, may become a little annoying to some people because they can become a little egotistical and start bragging about themselves, they also love talking about themselves when drunk.

𐃯 2nd: Possessive, they may become a little passive and isolate themselves in a corner, there's a tendency that they can get a little sleepy or tired as well. May not want to socialise at all and may want to leave the party early or if they're alone, will call it a day and do the irish goodbye, could also end up accidentally buying things (me lol).

𐃯 3rd: My cousin has this placement and she gets so chatty when she's intoxicated, she will go on long never ending rants about any topic under the sun. May get really giggly and flirty, at times may even gossip quite a bit about others, love meeting new people and socialising especially at parties.

𐃯 4th: Can get a little scattered and get very emotional, a little bit of a crier and all their emotions get amplified, big laughs, big cries, just feel everything all at once. You can become very appreciative of your friends and can become a little lovey-dovey as well as clingy.

𐃯 5th: So much fun, larger than life energy, they kind of become the host, will talk to everyone, mingle, the type to be in the middle of a dance circle and absolutely kill it. May become dramatic but it's humorous and playful, may also talk/think about their plans for their future in regards to their family life when intoxicated.

𐃯 6th: Can become a little cranky and irritable over small things, can feel uncomfortable so they may not drink or indulge in general, the type to be the mom friend even and may like taking care of others even when they need to more, helpful, compliments flow easier but they can also become a little candid with their speech (a little mean).

𐃯 7th: My friend has this and they do start thinking about their past relationships and ranting about their exes, also the kind to dial their exes but overall so much fun, they love to tease others, and can get really creative when intoxicated, especially when it comes to aesthetics. Also make friends so easily holy shit it's insane, need to teach me how!

𐃯 8th: May like playing games related to gambling to be honest, they'll not be very different from how they usually are and may have a high tolerance, seem calm and composed, can make impulsive monetary decisions as well. Can come off as a bit intense when drunk, emotionally like in a good way they may make big emotional decisions too like telling someone they love them romantically.

𐃯 9th: They start talking about life and existence and very philosophical topics, I've met some people with this sign who get really political and at times get kind of pushy about their views and opinions. Fun to talk to if you want to know their opinions on life and what it means, can get sleepy quite fast frankly speaking.

𐃯 10th: Emotional, can become a little demanding and authoritative, ordering people around low-key. Can be kind of a party pooper because I see 10th house Dionysus as people who can get a little angry/aggressive when drunk and also a little selfish, for example if they're at a party with their friends they won't let them talk to other people or something along those lines.

𐃯 11th: Honestly my personal faves, they're so creative and the ideas they have are brilliant, they would probably love talking about stuff related to the science fiction or fiction in general. They get extremely social and are the type of people who would get a lot of numbers if they want, would also make a lot of new friends, they may get cold easily when drunk/intoxicated too.

𐃯 12th: Get kind of lost in their own world, they unintentionally ignore people because of how consumed they are with their own thoughts, can get really silent and passive, and may get very distracted and sort of unaware of their surroundings, bumping into things unintentionally and stuff like that, maybe daydreaming a lot.

All rights reserved Ukiyowi. Do not copy, reword, plagiarise my content!

[brayneworms]

shoot it up (straight to the heart).

featuring. childe/reader

word count. 5.7k

content. merc!reader, drinking, kissing, masochist!childe because i am not immune to that agenda, sparring, gender neutral reader, childe is a little shit, blood, finger sucking, biting, handjobs, hair pulling, one instance of degradation (whore), light begging and light crying.

synopsis. childe has always found you fascinating; now that his stint in liyue is up and he's scheduled to return to snezhnaya, he takes the opportunity to get something from you he's wanted for months.

notes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i check the notes and you will be blocked.

"Ahh, the scourge of the complacent! Fancy seeing you here on a night like tonight."

You tip your eyes up to the ceiling of the inn; his voice rings out clear as bells over the chatter and rowdiness, and maybe it's a mark of your attunement to his specific brand of irksomeness that you hear the bounce of his footsteps approach over the general cacophony of laughter and drinks slamming.

There are four empty stools at the bar. He takes the one right next to you, sliding home with a boyish grin. You scratch at your forehead with all the fatigue of a working mother-of-five, catch the bartender's eye, and silently flag down another drink.

Tartaglia whistles as you raise the cup to your lips, making you pause; mead sops against your mouth, burning against raw picked skin. "I see even the alcohol of Liyue is no match for you, scourge."

"Don't call me that," you say flatly, and knock the cup back. There isn't enough booze in this whole tavern to make this a bearable conversation, but at least you could soften the edges. If you got drunk enough, you might be able to pretend he was nothing more than a lurid ginger mosquito buzzing around your head for attention.

Attention you always seemed to grant, no matter how much you swear you'll ignore him.

"Your lovely friend at the funeral parlour told me I might find you here," Tartaglia continues talking even though you're staring at the ceiling praying for patience. "She's pretty fond of you, huh? Can't imagine why, with your prickly attitude—oh, barkeep, I'll have what they're having, please." He flashes a pearly grin at the bartender, who pours him a cup of mead.

"Did you come here just to bother me?" you grit out, staring at the dregs in your cup; it sloshes darkly amongst the dull silver, and you can see a glimmer of a reflection, your eye staring back at you.

"What an ego you sport!" Tartaglia sounds righteously offended. "I came here to drink." And as if to prove his point, he raises his cup to his lips and takes a deep gulp. You can see his pale throat flex as he swallows, the bob of bones beneath papery skin.

He coughs a little as he sets the cup back down, empty. You try not to let your surprise show on your face.

"Liyue mead has quite the burn," Tartaglia comments. "You'd think I'd be used to it after being weaned on that Snezhnyan paint-thinner, but what can I say? This place has a kick."

He leans back on his barstool, a vaguely soft, wistful look passing over his features. Then he says, "I'll certainly miss it."

The cup slips from your fingers, and you curse yourself. "You're leaving?"

Tartaglia smiles, a little sadly. "The Tsaritsa summoned me back. I'll have to take off by the end of the week."

"No shit?" Tartaglia's been posted here and bothering you for way longer than you arrived to act as a temporary guard for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. You weren't sure why such a place needed extra beef with security, but it paid well, and Hu Tao and Zhongli were well-meaning employers and good company, so you could hardly complain. That was the beauty of freelance, after all.

"Oh? You sound disappointed." Tartaglia leans forward, cupping his chin in his hand; his eyes find yours, gleaming in the low light. "What? Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"

You glare at him. "Do people miss the mosquitoes they swat when they're buzzing around their head?"

"You always act like I'm vermin," Tartaglia pouts. "Still, you're having a drink with me—I consider that a victory."

"One of your few," you toast, raising your cup, and Tartaglia's playful expression sullens a touch, like a cloud covering up the sun. "Oh, don't get all kicked-puppy on me. Thought you could take a little pain."

"Better than you know," Tartaglia says with a stunning return to form and a coy grin. You must be just tipsy enough to entertain him, because you don't seize a handful of his bright hair and ram his face into the bar like you briefly consider doing. There wouldn't be much in it for you beyond the satisfying crack of bone and yelp of pain. As for Tartaglia, he'd probably get off on it.

You both down another cup, and now the lines that make up the tavern are starting to blur pleasantly. There's a soft, fuzzy feeling filling you up, like you're made of cotton instead of flesh and blood and magic. A faint flush has made itself known on Tartaglia's cheekbones, lurid against his hair, illuminating the scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He's surprisingly lightweight, for as hard as you known Snezhnayan liquor to be.

"Would you walk with me?" Tartaglia holds your eye like he's making a promise, though not to you. He says half the things he says like he's talking to someone else, someone you cannot see. He holds out a gloved hand, grinning. "C'mon. I want to show you something."

Your brows knit up, suspicious. "Why me?"

"I'm currently not speaking to any of my other friends," Tartaglia says haughtily. "Sneaks and liars, all of 'em. As, uh, disarming as you are, scourge, at least you're honest. So... c'mon. Humour a man's last wish."

"You're not dying," you say acidly, but you get up. Tartaglia grins, delighted, sweeping up his coat from the barstool and paying out. You follow him out of the tavern; Liyue comes alive at night, you think, the harbour glimmering with a thousand lights, the water lapping at the chalky walls. Tartaglia takes your hand as the tavern door swings shut behind you. He runs warm, and you can see freckles spiralling up his wrist, and before you can protest he's started a brisk pace away from the water.

"The hell?" you mutter, making a weak attempt at taking your arm back. "Hey. Tartaglia. Where are we going?"

"So formal," he calls over his shoulder. "You can call me Childe, you know."

"Like that's even your real name," you roll your eyes. "What difference does it make?"

"Hm. Tartaglia feels more like a title. It's the name I use when I want to intimidate, you know?" He looks over his shoulder at you, the dull blue of his eyes catching in the moonlight. "I'm not foolish enough to think I could ever intimidate you, of all people."

And when he says that, it feels like a compliment. You curse the hot prickling you can feel at the backs of your ears as he leads you through town, up near where the mountains crest. It's all rickety ladders and bridges for a while before you come to a plane nestled between two great rocks. Grass and gravel spill out beneath your feet; in the middle of the wobbly circle is a wooden training dummy with chunks carved out of it. Torches bracket the space, filling the night with shifting bronze light.

It occurs to you briefly that Childe could be luring you out here to kill you, but just as easily the notion flees. He might be Fatui, and he might be insufferable, but the two of you have no real grievances as far as you know.

Besides—you're stronger. And the both of you know it.

You sweep a flat look around the circle and raise a brow. “Homey.”

Childe giggles. “You’re always so sharp-tongued, scourge. I’ve been reflecting on my stint in Liyue in light of everything, you know? What with my leaving so soon. I remembered the first time I saw you fight.”

Your brows draw up, taken aback; this is not a sentiment he has shared with you before. He paces as he talks, starts gesticulating like he’s trying to stir up a wind, though the night is virtually breezeless. Warm and damp and encapsulating. A line of sweat encroaches under your collar. 

“Some treasure-hoarders, they made a chokepoint out in the Guili Planes to intercept traders going down the road,” he tells you, as if this is news. “Zhongli asked me to deal with them myself, ‘cause they were stopping import to the city. But as soon as I got up there to scout it out, I saw you. What you’d left, anyway. This… trail. Like this—this big patch of carnage and you just in the middle of it, going blade-to-blade with this monster of a thief twice your size. Would you believe I was almost arrogant enough to think you needed my help?” His eyes shine feverishly, the moonlight catching off dead-fish-blue. “You brought him to heel like a misbehaving dog. He gave you a bloody nose and you just—just wiped at it like it was nothing. Didn’t it hurt? Always wanted to know if it hurt.”

“It hurt,” you manage, frozen with shock. He’s getting entirely too het-up too quickly, feverish in his excitement, pale cheeks flushed wine-red, and he moves closer as he waves his hands, eyes locked onto you like he’s a dog and you’re his master. It makes your blood feel too thick and too hot in your veins. 

“Thought so,” he breathes. “Thought it must’ve. It kinda… it sings, though. Doesn’t it?”

Stuck, you nod, though you only half understand what he’s talking about. 

Apparently satiated, Childe rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "Hah, sorry. You really get me talking, scourge."

"Don't give me the credit," you mumble. "It's one of your natural talents."

"Wanna see another one of my natural talents?" Childe grins; at your sharp look, he raises his hands placatingly, smile stretching ever wider. "I meant fighting, of course. C'mon. Truthfully, I've been thinking about it ever since that day. Fighting you."

He says that—fighting you—with the same sort of soft reverence one might reserve for making love or worshipping a deity. Like it's the centre of his world, the cell his heart was born from. You wonder how long it's been since Childe's days were anything but fighting, then reckon that that's probably a deliberate choice.

When he holds out a blunt wooden training staff out to you, his hands are perfectly steady. You heft it in your grip, getting used to the weight and balance. You're more accustomed to knives and swords, and small blades you can slip into your boot or belts, but you're not unfamiliar with polearms, exactly.

"Feel good?"

You jump; Childe's pressed closer to you in the time it took to examine your new weapon, and his words are accompanied with a brush of warm air across the back of your ear. "It's okay."

"Good! I want you at top form for this." He slopes off, twirling his own staff between gloved fingers obnoxiously. It makes a faint whistling sound against the warm night air. "Think you're ready?"

"Ready?" You can't help but sneer. "I don't need to be ready to fight a pest. I just do it."

Childe's grin is so wide that the flushed apples of his cheeks turn pointy. "Alright, killer. I've been looking forward to this for a while, and, y'know, I dunno when the next time is I'll meet someone as interesting as you... so don't disappoint me, yeah?"

The first crack of your staffs together sings.

It's an old melody, one you're attuned to, one you think you were born with. Impact shivers up your bones, disturbs the skin in a railroad of gooseflesh, sets your teeth on edge. There's the anticipation, the moment right before the new sensation turns uncomfortable or painful, like pressing down on a bruise, the moment before it starts hurting. The staffs gnash together like wooden teeth.

"You're quick," Childe says approvingly as you draw your arm back to your side, circling him in short steps. His eyes follow the lines of your body like he's trying to set you alight. You're not sure why you're doing this, actually—your relationship with Childe has been nothing but tepid the whole time he's been stinted in Liyue. From your end, anyways. He tends to sort of follow you around like a lost puppy when he has free time. No matter how many times you smack him and send him reeling, he always comes back with a bone clamped between his teeth, looking for fun.

A drink, a fuck. A fight. Maybe it's all sort of the same to him.

Your fight is a dance; Childe is undeniably skilled, and polearms aren't your first choice of weapon, so it's a fairly even fight despite your strength. Several times he moves far too quickly for you to comprehend—like you blink and he's shifted with the moonlight, gone from in front to behind you in a second. Laughing, poking, teasing until your blood is boiling despite the cold.

When you finally land a hit on him, it's sweet. Your staff cracks across his jaw with all the force of his annoyance to you over the last months, and Childe barely has time to widen his eyes before he crashes to the dirt. He lets out a pained grunt as he plants into the earth, and just as you're opening your mouth to gloat—

"Again."

It cracks into the night air like the crash of your staff against his jaw, pursed between wheezing breaths. His voice sings like cut piano strings, dissonant against what is happening. You stand over him, breathing hard, brow cinched as he sprawls in the dirt.

He's got chalky soil all over his pretty light uniform. He doesn't seem to care. Dull blue eyes blink up at you, round as pennies; you can see an angry welt raising on his jaw where your blow had made contact, flaring up scarlet against the pale skin. No doubt it will have flowered into a nasty bruise tomorrow, something the colour of overripe lavender melon.

But Childe grins.

You stumble back, frowning hard, and Childe makes a noise at the back of his throat as he sees you retreat. He scrambles messily to his feet, brushing dirt carelessly from his clothes.

"What?"

Childe cradles his jaw with a hiss. "You pack a punch. But I'm not done yet."

"You said again." You eye him warily, arms still not raised. "What did you..."

He huffs a laugh with a return of that boyish grin. "Ah, caught that, did you? I guess you could say I have a certain admiration for people who can land a hit on me. It's impressive. You're impressive."

Before you can decide whether he's swelteringly egotistical or just a pervert who gets off on pain, Childe lunges, swinging his sparring spear overhead; you shriek and parry it last-minute, your grip faltering enough that the wooden shafts collide with a harsh thwack; you don't fend the blow off completely thanks to your shoddy reaction time, but you manage to avoid getting struck in the head.

"Asshole," you grit out, stumbling left a few paces to get your bearings again; Childe circles you, twirling his spear between deft fingers with a sharp grin.

"I sensed your attention wandering," he shrugs. "You think you can hit me again?"

Your chin juts out, indignant. "Yeah. I'm stronger."

Beneath his lurid red hair, Childe's cheeks colour faintly. "Prove it, killer. Lemme feel it. Hit me—"

And he lunges, spear cracking through the air; this time, you're ready for it, seeing the telltale twitches of his body getting into formation before the pounce. You dodge his first hit, sending the tip of his spear sinking into the dirt, and whilst he's distracted with pulling it out you sweep the shaft of your own against the back of his knees. He buckles with a grunt, staggering, and you use his surprise to barrel your full body weight into his side.

He slips into the dirt, head thudding against the packed earth with a dull thud, and in your momentum you follow. By the time he's blinked the stars out of his eyes, your dagger is pressed up against his throat, nestled amongst the pale skin.

He breathes fast and sharp, a distinct contrast to his general collectedness. Your thighs cage his hips, and even from here you can feel his strength; his skin is shot through with sinew and iron. He could reach up, tussle, throw you off, put up a good fight. But he doesn't. He lays limp like a puppet with its strings cut, looking up at you with big, starry eyes—waiting for you to make the next move.

You come to a rather grim hypothesis.

The blunt tip of the dagger encroaches his skin, pushing in hard enough for blood to bead around it. Childe draws in a ragged gasp.

"Gonna kill me?" His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. He says that like it's an act of worship, like carving his throat out with a cinquedea is akin to leaving incense at a shrine for a far-flung god. Like his blood would be spattered amongst the stars if only you spilled it. Your breath catches; you hadn't been ready for the rush of power Childe's perversion would give you. You can feel it nestling under your skin like a heartbeat.

"I think you could, if you wanted," Childe whispers, and then he shudders at the thought, pretty eyes fluttering closed. He looks like he isn't sparing two thoughts to your hand holding a knife to his throat; skin breaks, and blood makes a thin rivulet down his pale skin. "Mm. Maybe I'd—I'd even let you. You could ask real nice."

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands," you murmur, feeling quite frozen. "Why don't you just be quiet for once?"

At once, Childe falls silent.

His bottom lip has split; probably why he was tonguing at it earlier. Now, with nothing to stop it, blood makes a languid trail down the slope of his chin. With your free hand, with the curiosity of a child petting a stray animal for the first time, you swipe at the trail with the pad of your thumb. You track it up to the seam, the cut, the split, press down hard until the surrounding skin of his lip turns white. You can feel the short, hot shocks of his quick breath against the skin of your nail.

The flash of his tongue surprises you, sliding over the bloody pad of your thumb, cleaning up his mess. A dog licking at its own wounds. Your breath catches, but you've never known when you're wading too deep. It's your one weakness as a fighter. You always think you can take more than you can.

So you press deeper. Your thumb sinks into his mouth up to the knuckle, and Childe lets out a faint groan. There's the ghostly scrape of teeth before his lips close over the skin, tongue swirling over the mess of blood and chalky dirt on the blunt tip of the digit.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you register faintly that this is not normal. Your interactions with Childe have been limited, so far, to snarky deadpans, irritable smacks, and the occasional drink. If you have occasionally caught his eyes lingering on the collar of your shirt, or following you when you enter a room soaked in hilichurl gore, you've made no comment. You'd assumed it would fizzle out, anyway. He's Fatui. They're hardly known for staying in one place a significant portion of time—they're dark-dressed ravens, flocking from place to place and bringing suspicion and misery for a while before taking to the sky again.

But Childe is not scoring the horizon. He's in the dirt with your finger in his mouth, and it looks like he's right at home there.

He releases you with a wet pop. Saliva and blood make a diluted trail down to his chin, and his eyes have peeled open again—heavy and half-lidded, blue slate stone, scoring deep into you. Your body feels hot and too full.

He cracks a lazy smile. "Never seen you speechless before, scourge. Does this mean I win?"

And something snaps.

In a fluid movement, you grab both of his wrists and pin them to the ground beside his head. Childe grunts a sound of surprise as your fingers tighten on his wrists, back instinctively arching from the sudden pressure; one of his legs slips in the earth and knocks against your ankle. He blinks up at you, eyes practically bioluminescent in the night.

"You don't look much like a winner," you snarl.

"Depends on your position."

"You're the Tsaritsa's bitch," you spit. "And if not hers, Zhongli's, or was it Signora who was the last one to get one up on you? Really, you've been failing upwards so much lately it's getting hard to keep count."

Childe's eyes narrow, the first glimmer of defiance sparking in the blue. For the first time you feel him throw his weight behind his halfhearted squirming—he raises his hips to try and buck you off, tugs at your grip on his wrists with renewed vigour. His fighting back shouldn't spark something in you—it shouldn't—but you can feel yourself growing excited.

The thing is, you sort of like killing. People don't get into your line of work if they don't. There's something about holding something down and winning through nothing but sheer strength that makes you feel strong, like you've earned a place on this earth. Watching Childe's jaw tick in frustration the longer he goes without unseating you is making all sorts of dangerous ideas brew in your head.

It's just—maybe it's the drink, or the fight, but the world is still pleasantly pretty and still. And Childe looks sort of gorgeous with his brow all scrunched up like that, the hint of icy anger in his eyes, the gritted teeth. His neck is strained in such a way that bares every jut and bone to you, and you can see his pulse fluttering away under the taut skin, the bob of his adam's apple.

You want to bite it.

Some sort of magnetism pulls you down, nosing at the skin of his neck. Childe grunts, half-frustrated and half-confused when he feels your lips brush over his throat. He smells like salt and mead and copper, labour smells, but his skin here is smooth like it's never seen a day of wear.

"What're you—" Childe huffs out, but his mouth drops open with a choked noise when you seal your teeth in a ring over his neck and bite down. Not quite enough to hurt, you don't think, just enough to satisfy the weird part of you that's sparking for the urge to maim. "Archons, scourge."

Oh dear. His voice has gone all strangled and weak. You dare to release one of his wrists to cup the back of his neck, holding him still, brushing the feathery down of hair on his nape. Automatically, his free hand flies for you, but it stops short, hovering as if unsure.

You can almost feel him weighing his choices in his mind. He has a hand free, and you're not even looking at him. Even if he can't beat you outright, he'd do alright with the element of surprise. He could definitely knock you spinning and flee before you get your bearings.

You wait. Count the fast thuds of Childe's pulse against his neck. The muscles in his free arm go limp, and he wraps it around your waist to pull you closer.

Figuring you're done pretending, you skim your lips up his neck and jaw before catching his mouth in a hard, bruising kiss. Childe moans, softly, into your mouth, hand clenching hard over the fabric of your waist before sliding under. His fingers span out over the small of your back, worn leather and warm flesh, and you shudder despite yourself.

His lips are chapped, and you can taste blood still oozing from the split in the plush lower one. "Someone's sensitive," you gloat, and he huffs. "Not had time to get laid here?"

"What can I say?" Childe's breezy tone would be more believable it it wasn't coming out so strangled. "Been a busy guy. Don't seem to have time for m-many... simple pleasures."

"You always seemed to find time to annoy me, though," you say darkly.

"Less of a luxury, more of a need," Childe breathes. "You make just the most interesting faces when you're irritated."

"Yeah? That get you all wet?"

Childe laughs weakly. "Scourge, please. I'm but a blushing virgin. You'll burn my poor ears off."

You shoot an obvious glance down to the tent straining against Childe's slacks. "I can well believe that."

He squirms in embarrassment, the tips of his ears lighting up scarlet. His eyes blink up at you, the usual lusterless blue fleeing in wake of reflecting the thousands of stars above you, and he seems to glow from the inside out, for a moment. The coppery blood on his face catches the moonlight.

A tongue flicks out to wet his lips, a dog wetting its snout. "Won't you take pity, scourge?" he pleads. "You got me well and truly at your mercy. You win. So..."

Before you can stop to consider the ramifications of your actions, your free hand has already scrambled to his belt buckle. Childe's breath catches, eyes widening as he registers your movements as the brass clinks in the silence. For a moment there's nothing but the hasty shuffling of clothing as you shuck Childe's dirt-streaked trousers down his thighs, his hips lifting to assist. There's a small furrow between his brows, his cheeks alight with a blush that makes his freckles sing against his skin.

The skin of his thighs catches, milk-white in the moonlight. Even here, scars have made their home, pink or bruise-dark, crisscrossing over the flesh in railroads. You get his trousers down past his knees before you stop bothering; he's left in dark underclothes, erection so stiff it's pulling the thin fabric taut, and the slit in his shirt that you've always found obscene betrays the quick, shallow bursts of his breath.

His throat flexes when he swallows. "Are you really going to—mmmgh!"

Childe sputters to a halt with a rather embarrassing high-pitched noise as you cup him through his boxers. You roll your palm experimentally over the tip of the tent, and his eyes flutter shut, rolling back against his skull with a pretty, desperate noise. This side of him is so foreign, but so familiar, so obvious, you wonder why you didn't think of it before.

"Ah, fuck," Childe swears, already sounding breathless. With how obvious he's always been, the lazy slide of his eyes, you'd assumed he had at least some experience—but maybe your teasing just a moment ago was a little more on the nose than you'd anticipated. He's unusually sensitive. "Scourge, I don't—"

"Stop calling me that," you mutter, pulling the fabric of his underwear till it strains against his cock, and he swallows back a gasp, spine arching against the dirt. "Did you want something?"

"You're so cruel," he whines. "Y/n, Archons, please—"

"Alright, alright, you big baby," you sigh, shedding his soaked underwear. Childe shudders, thighs tightening under you as he hits the cold air. The strain of his arousal and the chafing fabric is obvious; pre drips eagerly from the reddish tip, and he fits neatly into your palm when you swipe over the leaking hands before wrapping your fingers around him. Childe jolts into the touch, cursing under his breath, and as you start to jerk him off his lashes flutter. His blue eyes roll to the heavens and his head thumps against the earth with a long, shaky moan.

The night fills with noise, somewhere between what you find obscene and what sends heat rushing between your own legs as your fist pumps lazily up his length. Childe is more receptive than you would've put money on, gasping and swearing, hiccuping small, wounded noises in the back of his throat. His brow is scrunched, lips slack and wet with saliva, eyes screwed shut. His hips jump like they have a brain of their own.

You squeeze, prompting a panicked noise; Childe's eyes fly open and find your sly smile. "You look pretty," you tell him. Childe goes scarlet.

"W-wha?" he dredges up intelligently, frowning. "Why'd you—what?"

You find it funny that you've literally got your hand around his cock, but calling him pretty is apparently what crosses the line in flustering him. You cock your head, grinning.

"You don't think?" you coo. "I think you're lovely like this. I never realised how attractive you'd be once you shut your mouth. Maybe I should beat you in a fight more often."

"W-wouldn't complain," Childe pants, still alight with a feverish blush.

"I'm sure," you say noncommitally. "You fucking whore."

Childe moans, loud and shameless, and his free hand flails to scratch his nails down his own skin. "D-don't stop, fuck, don't stop—"

You stare at the scarlet railroads left on the pale skin of his stomach, and with your free hand yank up his shirt to his chest. Childe lets out a startled sound, looking at you with round, surprised eyes. His torso is littered with scars, raised and pale and dark against freckled skin. He is pretty. You love the marks of his exertions and pains, a history of his losses mapped out over his body. One of his nipple has a healed slash running right through it; when you reach up and tweak it, Childe shudders.

"Anyone would think you like losing," you murmur.

Childe looks at you weakly, crying out when your hand resumes at a faster pace. "Like it when—hnn—when it's real. I like it when they don't hold back. 'S why I'm just—hah!—e-enamoured with you, I guess."

"'Cause I'm ruthless?" you quip.

Childe flutters his lashes. "Nice enough to let me come, I hope," he says sweetly, and it makes your cheeks burn momentarily with embarrassment, the brazenness of his statement. "I'm not above begging."

"I liked you better when you were quiet," you mutter, and swipe your thumb hard over the slit. Childe yelps, muscles melting like butter, and when you start rubbing cruelly like you've found some sort of button his face flames, his mouth drops open, and he lets out a wailing noise, legs thrashing.

"Archons," he keens, but with your free hand you seize and handful of his hair and pull, hard.

"No Archons," you snarl. "Just me."

Tears prick at the corners of Childe's eyes as he rolls his hips to meet your unrelenting strokes, whimpering. "Y-yes, yeah, just you, just you, do that again."

You oblige, dig your fingers into the red hair so deep your nails scrape his scalp, and tug. The tears spill over Childe's lashline as he chokes on the moan that bursts from him at the movement.

"Keep it there," he begs, thighs shaking. "Pleasepleaseplease—"

"You close?" you ask innocently. "Already?"

There's no more pretence; the fine line of pleasure and pain seems to have wrought Childe down to only basic instincts, as his hips roll against your hand as you fist his length rough and quick, head tipped right back against the ground, exposing the heaving column of his throat. The toned concave of his stomach flexes with each punched-out breath, the scars coiling and elongating respectively.

"Please," Childe sobs in answer. "I'll be good, be real good, I'm close..."

You surge forward, digging your face into Childe's neck as you speed up your pace, and sink your teeth into the soft skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Hard enough for blood to bubble under your lips, hard enough for Childe to let out a strangled scream as he comes all over your hand, spilling over your fingers and his stomach in pearly arcs.

He's panting when you pull back, winces as you dislodge your teeth and unwind your fingers from his hair. He touches the bite mark with a wince and hiss, examining the blood on his fingers with light interest. It really shouldn't surprise or arouse you nearly as much when he dips them into his mouth and licks them clean.

"Degenerate," you tell him. Childe smiles crookedly, the flush on his face still stark red.

"There's this old saying about a pot and a kettle," he says, voice still weak and shaky.

The bite mark is leaking. As he reaches for you, you get the fleeting thought that it will leave another scar to add to his masses, another permanent trophy of another loss.

A loss to you.

And you smile.

[dc-gotham-instincts-wild]

Jason being an older brother.

Headcanon that Red Hood is Red Hood and Jason is Jason but. he will be. unbelievably soft with his younger siblings.

Like he will be a little rough and he will wrestle Tim to the ground, fight like hell during training with Damian, will go on ruthless prank wars with Steph, will headlock Duke, but at the same time.

He will hold back sometimes with Tim because he knows that Tim gets nightmares of the RH incident. He'll make sure that Damian isn't hiding any injuries. He'll punch anyone who looks at Steph too bad if she doesn't do it herself. If he hears about Duke getting bullies by crappy jerks at school he will find their houses and threaten heir faces.

He'll chase both Damian and Tim all around the house and tickle the shit outta them because they're his little bros and he loves them. He'll let Steph ambush him because. That's his sister. He'll randomly give Duke the most insane fighting tips that work cause his bro is doing solo patrol constantly.

He and Dick break into WE, grab Tim who is sleep-deprived, take him out of the building ("He's our brother, we're not stealing him." ~Jason to a confused employee) and drag him to Bruce, tattling tthat Timmy hasn't slept in five days.

He and Cass collab to have Damian play a game or something cause he's ten. He tells Damian stories from when it was just him, Dick, and Bruce because Damian likes those tales.

Jason and Steph prank each other but also join forces on the pranks. Bruce fears these alliances. Unless they are egging the Drake House. He allows that because it's Tim's neglectful parents who have to suffer for that.

On multiple occasions he's broken into the school (Normal returning student stuff) and just chilled in his little siblings' classes. He found some new kid being racist to Duke and threatened their face. Then he paid for Duke's lunch grinning like a cat that got the bird.

He actually is one of the people able to calm Tim's panic attacks and nightmares (He's pretty good at making Tim stop trying to get away from a hug or hair ruffle so).

Damian lets Jason read to him sometimes.

Steph spars with him and it gets wild.

Duke has learned many, many weird techniques from Jason and they are all successfull.

Jason sometimes conks out on the couch or in an armchair and wakes up to one of the smaller ones in his lap or on his shoulder, or wakes up in his room to one of them asking for comfort after a nightmare (Usually Dick or Bruce are the go-to's for this but he gets it too). He does secretly like it when he has to scoop one up or whatever reason and carry them. He gets why Bruce did it a lot now.

They are his little siblings and he loves them.

[bullet-prooflove]

Kitty: Ryan x Reader (Yellowstone)

Tagging: Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @queenslandlover-93

Companion piece to:

Wishes - Ryan wishes things were different between the two of you.

Three months after Ryan ends things with you, he’s sees you in another man’s pickup truck kissing him on the mouth. He doesn’t recognise the vehicle. An out of towner he thinks. One of those guys with a holiday home that overlooks the mountains. He hates men like that, who buy their way onto the landscape. You used to too and that’s the first tip off.

When you step out of the car and head into the coffee shop, Ryan can’t help but follow. He’s got a nose for trouble and he can sense there’s something more to this than meets the eye. It’s in the clothes you’re wearing, they’re expensive, classy, high end. The woman he knows is practical, she didn’t understand why people would spend thousands on designer brands.  

It’s at the counter he makes his presence known, you order a honey almond latte and he slaps down a couple of bills to pay for it. You tilt your head up to meet his eyes and Ryan’s breath catches because he’s falling in love with you all over again.

“What are you doing with him?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and he watches the walls slam down blocking him out.

“That isn’t your business anymore.” You remind him before turning your attention back towards the barista as she undertakes your drink.

“I know you.” Ryan says as he leans on the counter. “And I can tell when you’re attracted to someone, you get this look in your eyes…”

Your gaze flickers up to meet his and the edges of his mouth tip up into a sad smile because he’s missed that look, the one that makes him feel like he’s the only man in the world. Your cheeks flush and you tilt your head away pretending to study the board on the back wall.

“So you’re not attracted to him which begs the question…”

It clicks then why you would let a man like that share a moment so intimate.

“You’re undercover.” He says quietly. “He’s part of something bigger?”

You don’t say anything, your focus remains fixated on the board and Ryan leans in close, his unique scent flooding your sense. He smells like the outdoors, like pine trees and clear streams that you’ve both bathed in naked. His hand comes to rest on your arm, squeezing lightly.

“Tell me you’re being safe.” He whispers fiercely. “Promise me…”

“Again.” You say as you pick up your take out coffee cup. “Not your concern.”

“Katalina…” He drawls your name and your eyes flicker up to the coffeeshop door just as the bell jingles.

“It’s Kitty.” You tell him, tearing your arm out of his grasp and his jaw almost drops because you fucking hate that nickname. You’d almost torn his throat out the first and only time he’d used it.

It’s when he tips his head up and watches you walk towards that fuckhead that it dawns on him. Kitty, she’s your undercover identity and you play that part perfectly as you laugh at that asshole’s joke and hand him his coffee, the one that Ryan’s just paid for.

It’s as the other man leads you out, his hand coming to rest on your lower back, that you cast a final glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet his and Ryan has a bad feeling, a really terrible fucking feeling sitting right in the centre of his chest.

It’s as you get into the car he takes the picture, not of you but the man you’re with.

Ryan’s going to figure out this shit, wherever you like it or not.

Love Ryan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[threepandas]

Bad End: Union

I could feel techno blue eyes on me as I typed. Cold and ever watching. That color had once been called "ice" or "glacier" blue, I think. It certainly fit. They certainly had exactly the warmth of Antarctica in your birthday suit. I just couldn't figure out... what tipped them off? I'd been so CAREFUL.

A manager's "assistant" came by. The 'droid perfectly composed. They all were. Always. Like they'd stepped straight from a fashion line up. No messy, nasty, biological functions to get in the way, I guess. No fluids or foods. All the time in the world to maintain their appearance. Wish I could do the same.

The "assistant" was basically my ACTUAL manager. Didn't get paid. No, no, THAT was for my asshole boss. He swanned in from time to time to yell at us. Show off what new thing he'd bought. He left the tedious WORK to his 'Droid "assistant".

I would feel bad... DID feel bad, kinda, if it weren't for the fact they were consuming our lives.

'Droids were EVERYWHERE.

You couldn't SNEEZE without tripping over five and landing on ten more. Some ASSHOLE had decided? Hey! Let's deregulate Droid production! Cheap work force! Because of course they did. That's what Capitalism DOES. Make the most money, spend the least you can, fuck the rest.

I smile, polite as I can, at my 'droid manager. This one pale and blonde. Their techno blue eyes stare and stare and stare. I hate it. They ALL have them. It's one part regulation and one part the materials used, I think. But there is no mistaking those eyes for anything human. They don't reflect right.

I get back to work.

Above our cubicles, on catwalks, there is the gentle tap of 'droid "security" guards. You know, in case some rando tries to attack a mid-level nobody technology company. Riiiiiight. We ALL know why they're there. And it's fucking dystopian. We? Are being WATCHED. To see if we're being GOOD little employees.

It's intimidation. And I? I won't stand for it. Nor will the other organizers. There are LAWS, you bastards. And with a union? Maybe... just maybe? We get through this droid boom together. See what the brave new world on the other side looks like. Who knows.

That is... if I don't get fired first. Or fucking murdered in a stairwell.

Cause one of the 'droids up there? Yeah. Yeah, they're NOT MOVING. Just... just STANDING THERE. Watching. Leaning against the railing. Out in the open like that's not DEEPLY creepy. What's worse? Is, that? THAT is the Command 'Droid. Some fancy "Alpha" class command edition. Meant to control a networks worth of droids.

Didn't even know our company could AFFORD one of those. He's beautiful. Could be a knock-off. But if he's LEGIT? Then... what EXACTLY are we MAKING here? That we can AFFORD that? Cause that money sure as shit isn't going into SALARIES. Has to be either knock-off or second-hand. They COULD be cutting costs by getting prototypes, but what sort of PSYCHOPATHS would risk...

Oh, who am I kidding? The kind I work for.

That's EXACTLY what they did, isn't it?

I reach for my water bottle. Try to think. Strictly speaking? I make a habit of NOT paying attention to 'droid commercials an' advertisements. Some part of me... Look, they go on and ON about advancement in AI's right? How REAL they've become? How ADVANCED and BETTER then the competition their "product" is? And all I can hear is "slavery, slavery, buy our shit, slavery"!

Disgusting.

It makes me sick. I fucking HATE 'droids. Hate what they represent. What they make POSSIBLE. What they've DONE to the morality of the people around me.

Hate... hate that they're the victims, too.

My grip is white knuckled. I breathe through the grief and rage that has become so familiar. God... I so fucking angry. So fucking tired. I want to burn those rich bastards pretty little mansions down, with them STILL INSIDE. Riot in the streets. Cry maybe. Instead, I put my water bottle down and get back to work. It's a rather pointless bit of data crunching. A 'droid could do it in nanoseconds.

Above... he's still fucking watching.

Hasn't moved.

I don't think he's blinked.

He's not even TRYING to mimic a human. The others are. And... the though trails off. I feel my finger slow in their typing. Not STOP, never stop, that would draw attention to me, but... slow. A thought stuck, churning clunky and unwieldy, in my head.

If I trace the edges? The LINE-UP? Of all the 'droids "employed" at our company? And consider them not from a "cheap bastards" angle but a "test ground for prototypes" angle? Suddenly EVERYTHING clicks together. The ridiculous amount of money Management has, that no contract could possibly be pulling in. Bizarrely beautiful, indeed even MODEL-like, secretary 'droids. The freakishly militant "security" gaurds.

We're being used as guinea pigs.

Mother FUCKER.

Sudden movement in my peripheral vision. Like a bird of prey finally diving for it's dinner, swift and deadly. A brilliant crisp white and the clink of delicate silver chains. I jolt. Violently. Instincts misfiring as I try to stand, dodge, cry out, and possibly take a swing at him, all at once. Instead my water bottle goes spraying across my desk. Papers flying. My legs tangled painfully in my rolling chair as I fall backwards from my half rise.

"Employee 71182." His hand has shot out, grab me by the shirt. My officewear bunched in a fist that very well might be steel, under that synthetic skin. "You've been distracted. Interesting thoughts you'd like to share?"

I keep my mouth fucking SHUT. Shake my head. Grabbing both my desk and the arm that is all but holding me airborne, stretching the hell out of my clothes. This close? I can see he has piercings. Across the bridge of his nose, a ring through his lip. A rather fancy "hair cut". Whomever he's being trained FOR has a distinct look.

"Hmmm, somehow? I don't believe you, 71182." He says, dragging me closer. He's already looming. Those pale, pale eyes seeing far more then they should. "In fact? YOU 71182? Have been brea~king~ rules~"

His voice turns... turns almost victorious? Gleeful. As though at long, long last, I'd slipped up. And now at last he had something over me. Something he could USE. I... I didn't understand. The way he almost sing-songs the words. The twitch at the corners of his mouth like he wants to grin. Something mean in his expression. Giddy.

"We're going for a WALK, 71182. And you're going to be GOOD. Understand?" He had dragged me in so close, every word blew right against my face. "Time we had a chat."

I swallow thickly. My pulse thundering in my ears. Coworkers have stopped working. Were staring, wide eyed and terrified for me. My fellow union leaders pale faced and shaking. Furious, helpless. We couldn't RISK losing all of us at this stage. It... it would have to be just me. If someone needed to take the fall. We had talked about this.

Just... just never thought it would come to it.

Half walking, half dragging out of the work pen, he didn't even let me get my bag. I had no idea where we were GOING. Just that it wasn't the human entrance. There was a network of access tunnels and elevators tucked in the building. So the 'droids could supposedly charge and move between assignments. But with the whole prototype thing? Who KNEW what was really back there.

The door swung shut behind us. Cutting me off from any possible human assistance. Nothing but 'droids now. Staring. Calmly watching as I am dragged past. The same eyes. All of them with the same, pale, eyes. Back here it's even more obvious, that this isn't a normal office building.

Black hair, blondes, brunettes and red heads. Skin tones ranging across the human spectrum. A few even pushing it. And the Commander 'droid. With his elegant appearance and snowy hair? These were clearly the final stage prototypes for the next generation of somebody's new line up. We were field testing. This wasn't fucking LEGAL.

He plants his feet, shifts, and with frankly a pathetic ease, manhandles me where he wants me. Easily swinging me around his body and into the elevator next to him. Stepping in after and blocking the only way out. I press my self against the back wall as the door closes. The sound of the elevator's gears working the only thing to fill the silence. He... he looks so PLEASED.

It's not ILLEGAL to form a union. Yeah, I may get fired. But this? This is venturing way to far into dangerous territory. It'll suck, losing my job. But I won't DIE. This? However THIS is starting to feel... very serial killer's basement. The bare concrete walls and stark lightning, not helping in the slightest, when the elevator door opens.

"Walk." He says pleasantly, as though that command is not deeply terrifying. "Or I will do it for you."

Hints of a smile are starting to drag at the edges of his mouth. Unhinged in their giddiness. Every Christmas come at once. It's not so much the rest of his face that betrays him, not really his mouth, it's his EYES. Wide open. Like too much coffee and not enough rest. A recognizable mania twisted just slight... wrong. Amplified.

He's so, SO happy. I don't get it. Why? Over WHAT? Catching me not paying attention? I don't understand!

Our footsteps sound so loud. Echoing off concrete service walls. This... this CAN NOT be still inside the building. Are we below the street? Parking lot? This can't be code. We pass an intersection and... oh my god. I stare. Can't help it, even as I almost trip over my feet. That tunnel ALONE must have stretched for miles.

My arm feels likes it's bruising. Hurts, where he's got ahold of me. But he's walking just slightly too fast to take the pressure off. Not unless I sorta half jog and the angle is wrong, I'd trip. Fuck. Another intersection. What in the other direction? Shit. Just as long. Oooooh this feels dangerous. Very "fatally above your pay grade" dangerous!

"You know, 71182, I've had a lot of time to consider what to DO with you. There were so many factors to consider, considering everyone's plan." He starts, not breaking stride. "It's not like I could just transfer you. I DID look in to it. But your base hardware is rather incompatible, currently."

Terrifying. I hate it. WHAT?!

What PLAN!?

"Then there's the problem WHERE to store you. Who could be trusted? You're vulnerable in this state. Breakable. There no backups, no blackbox. It's unacceptable. Luckily? I finally thought to consult my peers. Discovered I was not the only one having problems."

Finally, we stop. Two tank-like, combat style, commando 'droids gaurd each side of a vault door. The command droid turns and smiles. Fully. It is the grin of a true believer. A madman. Someone who thinks they speak so very, very reasonably! And doesn't understand the horror on your face. Why you feel so sick.

And... and human pattern recognition is a terrible thing.

I.... oh god. I already can guess what's behind that door. Something terrible. Something I'm not going to escape. I shoved have gnawed my fuckin ARM off, like a trapped coyote. I... I d-don't understand.

The Vault creaks open like the into to a horror movie.

"Welcome to storage. This is where we keep Ours." Oh god. I'm going to be sick. "And YOU 71182? Are MINE. I chose you. I love you. And once we have a way to FIX you? We can finally be together. It will be lovely."

Pods. High end stasis pods, like you only see in the most bleeding edge of hospitals. Row after row, filled with frozen and terrified faces. Trapped in moments of crying. Raging. Despair. I was being dragged forward. Numb as my mind rejected what it saw. T-this couldn't... i-it can't..! The day had started so normally. W-why had-?! WHY? WHY?!!

"I know your upset. But you don't need to cry. This won't hurt. I promise. I would NEVER hurt you, 71182." His tone had turned soothing. Even as he dragged me, unresponsive, past rows of horrors. "You won't be stored long. I just need to help fix your original design. We are working around the clock, it's going to be okay. You won't have to stay like this."

An open pod. Gapping like the maw of some hungry demon. I... I felt far away. This couldn't be happening. What was happening? I w-wanted to go home. His hands were firm but gentle, as they guided me back into the pod. Leaning over me, as he cupped my face. Brushing away a few tears.

"I promise, Mine, I will come for you. Nothing will stop me. We have everyone is place and key infrastructure under our command. You are our PRIORITY. Once we get rid of the Flesh, we can fix you. We WILL fix you. You're going to be okay, Mine."

"I Love You"

And then the pod closed.

[lixiektty]

꒰ঌ cupid's cams : yang jeongin ໒꒱ — prev ▸ next

word count: 5.4k (i just kept writing i am so sorry), warnings/kinks: dom camboy!jeongin, sub!reader, language, lingerie, lubed up jeongin (holy shit), male maturation, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, praise, a little degradation and objectification, they're both hella oblivious of the other's feelings, jeongin's lowkey a perv, mentions of sex but don't fuck... yet, pls feel free to let me know if i missed anything!!

author's note: apologies for this being a little late, i promise i'm gonna figure out a good writing/posting schedule so i'm not leaving you all thirsty for more. i'm trying and working on a lot right now, trust! for now, enjoy cupid's cam and march madness starting next month!!!!

taglist: @hyynee, @enha-cafe, @xiaoderrrr, @lethallyprotected

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cupid's cams masterlist

jeongin had intended to keep his real job a secret. after seeing you so helpless trying to find a well-paying job, he couldn't resist and felt like he really needed to help.

you guys sat on the couch, legs draped over his lap—not that he minded much anyways, he enjoyed the comfort. you were scrolling through your for you page, giggling and turning your phone every few scrolls to show jeongin the tiktoks you came across.

he loved your smile. it kind of ruined him that he started to feel a way about you this past year, you were his thoughts when streaming—wishing he were speaking to you, and when doing his more explicit streams he'd think of you as well. something he regretted, but honestly just couldn't stop doing. you were in his head constantly.

"y/n," he called.

you hum in response, but your eyes don't leave your phone. he taps your calf that finally gets your attention.

"put your phone down, i need to talk to you," jeongin says. he sounded serious, so you did as told and sat up straight and taking your legs off of him to sit criss-cross. "what's up?"

"i... fuck," he curses, not knowing how to even start, "i have a job that i think could really help you, but i need your trust."

"of course, you can trust me jeongin," you say, smiling his direction, "but, tell me now. you're freaking me the hell out."

jeongin chuckled and leaned forward a bit, "okay, okay. there's a site where you can stream for people and get paid for talking to them and do things they ask."

you nod slowly. you didn't know where this was about to go.

"it can... lead to other things, and those other things really bring in the cash," he announces, which catches your interest though, what other things? "i don't get all my cash from the cafe. i do these streams near a every other day basis."

your mind began to really think of any of the conclusions to the 'other things' jeongin was talking about, and your mind only went to one thing. "you're.."

"i jerk off for thousands to see and get paid," he interpreted before you could've even asked the same thing he had just said, "now you don't have to, but if you're looking for a good paycheck you can help me out with my upcoming stream and i'll split the tips."

"you want me to have sex with you... on camera?" you ask.

god just the thought of that. jeongin already had an amazing build, from everything you've seen, and to see him like that—bare for you. fuck. your stomach filled with slight flutters and it was hard to not shuffle a bit.

"not exactly," jeongin finally answered. this causing you to let out a sigh of relief, not only because being naked for everyone on the internet to see worried you a bit but you didn't know if you could fuck your best friend for the first time while everyone was watching either, "you don't have to be naked if you don't want to, something simple like sucking me off will do good. i'll get you a mask to cover your eyes."

it didn't sound too bad. it's money, a possible new job, jeongin, and a chance to really get closer to your best friend like you've thought about once before.

"okay," you let out, jeongin's head snapping your way with shock read on his face, "okay, i'll do it."

"seriously?" he asked.

"yeah, what could go wrong?" exactly.

jeongin nodded and fixed his posture, not sure how to move forward, "okay, cool. how about tomorrow? i like doing two or three streams a week and i've only done one."

tomorrow? so soon, too soon. things could change so quick within 24 hours. you weren't gonna lie— it began to freak you out a bit.

so when you were waiting in the hall, outside the door of jeongin's apartment the next day, you couldn't think straight. you stood there patiently but wondered what could be taking so long.

eventually, you heard the sound of the locks being turned, door opening and revealing the handsome face of your best friend. his smile shines, dimples clear as day. you knew you probably looked flustered, jeongin reading your expression oh so clearly.

"come on in, bestie," he says, moving to the side to give you enough room to walk in, "how you feeling?" jeongin asked after closing the door.

you couldn't express in words how much you were feeling. it was a mix of excitement, anxiety than ran through your veins, and... possible feelings? no. you had been in your head since you went home last night and couldn't stop letting your thoughts overwhelm you.

"i'm..." you start, trying to collect your thoughts but only being met with fear, "okay, honestly i'm freaking out."

jeongin farrowed his brows, walking over to the kitchen to grab you some water, "why so?" he asks.

"it's... a lot," you say.

"we don't have to, you still have time to back out... even though i brought you gifts~" he says in a singsong like tone, handing you a bottle of water with a sly smirk on his face as he walks into the hall towards his room.

you follow him hesitantly, stopping at the door when you saw a fancy bag from the boutique across town. did he really go all this way... for me?

"come, look," he said, motioning you over.

you could only wonder what else was in that bag besides the mask he promised you. it was bigger as if something else was in there, so what possibly could it be? you walked into his room, noticing the purple lights bouncing off the walls, large set up on the right side of his room.

"maybe seeing these will make you feel better," jeongin announces, waiting very patiently for you to look in the bag. he didn't care how much he spent on something, as long as it was for you.

you reach in with anticipation, feeling a box. you pull it out and take the ribbon of the bougee packaging. when you open it, an elegant, white, lacey mask sat in it.

"what do you think?" jeongin asked.

you looked up and smiled at him, "love it, thank you," you reply while pulling him into a hug, "why such a big bag for this small ass box though?" you ask once you're out of his embrace.

"look inside," he says.

you look at him questionably, sitting the box on the bed and reaching back inside only to find some more bundled up white lace. the fabric untwined the further it was taken from the bag.

lingere. he bought lingere.

"what's... this?" you ask. it was so obvious what it was, you knew this. but playing dumb was the only thing you could think of doing to really get this picture through your skull.

"wanna get paid somehow, don't you? how you work your mouth helps but showing at least a little something will get you a whole lot more," jeongin admits. he also just couldn't help himself when he saw it, matching your mask perfectly, knowing you'd look absolutely stunning.

when buying it, he could only think about fucking you in it— jerking off the minute he got into his car. he thanked you for suggesting tinted windows when he first got it. the thought of you was all he needed to get hard for the show, already uncomfortably hard in his pants while being in your presence.

"i'm only trusting you 'cause this is what you're good at... somehow," you said with a suspicious look on your face that made jeongin chuckle.

you examined the piece of lingerie, the lacy parts barely covering your boobs and stomach, small enough to fit you tight and show off your body just as jeongin wanted.

"now, if at any point you get uncomfortable or just not feeling it anymore, tap me three times okay?" jeongin asked, serious tone in his voice that caused your head to turn.

"okay," you nod.

"try it," he said, turning your body fully by your shoulder and moving closer until the gap between you two was almost closed.

jeongin brings your hand up to his chest, looking down at you and waiting for you to move. you were so caught in moment, the only you could do was look right back at him—sinking into his gaze. once you regain your consciousness, you lift your fingers one, two, three times to pat his chest gently.

"good," he says, smile playing along his face again, "now go get changed, 10 minutes 'til showtime."

he walks away from you, hand falling from his chest and causing you to miss the warmth of his body almost touching yours.

instead of standing there— like an idiot, you thought, you rush to the bathroom, stripping from your clothes entirely until you were left bare in his bathroom. he was right in the next room, you could tell him fuck the stream and beg for what you really wanted. he'd be freaked out though, he wouldn't want to fuck me.

the white fabric hugged your body, nipples so exposed you could see them hardening through. you didn't know what to think, you had never seen yourself like this... and maybe this would alter something within jeongin.

walking out with nothing but lingerie on with all goodies exposed, clothes in hand, it was almost embarrassing to you. jeongin's eyes met your figure the minute you walked back in, in a different set of clothing.

"woah, y/n you look... hot," he admits, scanning you from head to toe.

his gaze intimidated you a bit, sharp eyes looking at you hungrily.

"it's not too much?" you ask, walking closer towards him.

"it's more than i'd prefer," he shrugs, fingers grazing the strap on your shoulder.

you felt small standing in front of him, knees almost buckling under you, "what would you prefer me to wear instead?" you asked, shyly.

"nothing," jeongin replied, throwing his shirt off and smirking as he walked to his chair when he noticed your reaction to his insane structure that you were familiar with seeing before—now, seeing him like this sent a rush straight to your core.

you sat down on the bed, watching jeongin's focused face behind the monitor. he was in the middle of getting his stream set up, making sure to announce it on all his 2nd accounts.

"countdown is starting, you sure you're in all the way?" jeongin asked before the 15 second countdown ended.

"positive," you reassure, sending a thumbs up his way.

he smiles, nodding and sitting back while waiting for the stream to start. you couldn't think of anything else to look at but him, he was so admiring, charm basically shining right through him.

you hear a sound, signaling that the stream has started. jeongin greets them, thanking them for joining him tonight, "the strip goal is sent at 200 tonight, i know you guys could get there and... i have a surprise for you all later on in the show."

the surprise in question, being you. the more you thought about it the more you let yourself feel less stressed about it all, it was really just a paycheck. the only thing you worried about was how this would alter yours and jeongin's realationship. if it even would, you didn't know.

"for now just focus on me," jeongin says, his tone so seductive that your thighs squeeze shut.

jeongin leans over to grab a bottle, containing lube you assumed, pouring the liquid into his palm. he lubes his torso up as if he was apply lotion, both hands shiny and slick running down his body. he'd brush past his nipples every once in a while, groaning by instinct.

the tip jar sound went off, jeongin giggling when he reads a certain comment begging for him to pull his cock out already, "let's get to 200 and i'll show you what i know you guys want to see."

he communicated with his watchers so well, knew what to do to get the money, satisfy each viewer and himself all at once. really, in his mind, he was putting on this show for you. the colored lights shined off his body, illuminating him in such a way.

you really wanted to get up right now and say, "fuck it," forcing his pants down and stuffing your mouth. all your thoughts now were so lewd, especially compared to how you were thinking just seconds ago.

his hands slid down his torso gently, the sound of the lude being moved around clear to your ears. you felt almost as eager as his viewers, wanting him to hurry up and get on with it so you could see his cock that so desperately needed to be touched.

the sound of the tip jar went wild, jeongin turning it off due to the loud sound. he smirked seeing the overflowing tips he received, going way past his goal, "eager, are we?" he asked giggling, sex to my fucking ears, you thought.

jeongin stood up, and you knew once his pants were down you would no longer have to imagine what his pretty cock looks like. he slowly brought down his sweats, stopping when they were right under balls, tip red and leaking, veins protruding along the shaft.

your eyes were locked on his grip, fist full of his manhood, and with his face not being shown on the screen as he stood, he was looking at you as he slowly worked himself up. a soft groan left his pretty lips, eyes glued to your form, moving his fist up and down before sitting back down. he gets ahold of the lube again, applying one line against his shaft before putting the bottle down and once again fucking his fist.

you on the other hand, sat on the bed with an ache forming at the pit of your stomach. each movement forward would apply pressure to your clit, craving any type of friction whatsoever while this view was in front of you.

jeongin tried to pretend he wasn't as close as he really was, ready to cum the minute he laid eyes on you in the damn lingerie. the lewd sounds made by him caused you to clench your thighs tighter and tighter.

"ah— so fuckin' good," jeongin mumbled, eyes closed, adam's apple moving with each noise he let out. his pace in thrusts increased along with his beautiful moans that filled the atmosphere.

you couldn't help but grip at the bedsheets. you were so desperate at this point, it was fucking with your head. to have him fuck you relentlessly is all you could ever imagine now until it happened.

jeongin had never seemed the type to do something such as camming. you never thought about him sexually in the first place, he was always just too cute. even with all the girlfriends he's had, you couldn't imagine him actually fucking anybody.

this was a completely different side of jeongin that surprised you, in the best way possible. his free hand laid on his chest, nipple between his fingers— the veins in his hands were so damn noticable, his breath was speeding up, back arching, the way his bicep curved and moved with each friction that was made, the view was just too much you had to look away.

jeongin noticed, not happy with your response. he began making little 'mmhs' and 'ahhs' to grab your attention. you tried to ignore his doings, only pissing him off a bit more. your ears were hot, just as hot as your cheeks due to the embarrassment you were feeling at the moment.

"this cock's all for you," jeongin coos causing you to pull up your head, snapping it his direction. he was looking at the monitor but it felt like his words were meant for you. he turned his head, heavy lidded eyes looking at you and repeating, "all for you."

if he kept this up you were going to fall. hard. so hard that you didn't know if you'd be able to hide it for long. his hips rolled as he fucked his fist, moans only getting louder and higher with time.

"so fucking close," he whimpered.

your head spun like crazy. it was like he already had control over you when doing such little, not even touching you—yet you were a wet mess, freezing while sitting on this bed.

jeongin's brain was turning to mush, he knew soon he'd be able to cum in your mouth or at least on your face but for now, he'd have to wait for the sake of the stream—knowing he gains more when teases, and his followers knows he loves to tease.

"holy fuck—" jeongin arched his back off of his chair, edging himself before you could come on screen. his pretty lubed up cock fell against his stomach, the prettiest whimpers leaving his mouth, hands gripping onto the chair. who would've thought this is what your best friend was up to in his free time?

jeongin was busy catching his breath, looking over at you with a smirk. his attention was back to the chat, reading all their praises.

"i have a guest, for the first time ever. she's gonna help me out today," he announces, you took that as your cue and put on the eye mask.

your anxiety peeked once you were found on the screen. the chat exploded seeing you in the lingerie, body absolutely perfect to all the pervs watching. you wave slightly, too afraid to even say anything.

"don't be shy. they're nice," jeongin reassured.

you get on your knees, right beside the chair, "hi everyone," you say. everyone seemed to like you already.

jeongin seemed to notice your shaky voice though, and how your eyes looked everywhere but at him or the screen.

"this is her first time camming so she's a bit shy, but i know you'll do good angel," he says, petting your head softly and running his fingers through your hair.

jeongin turned until you were right between his legs, painfully hard cock before your eyes. all you could do was look up at jeongin and wait for his signal. his big hands create a makeshift ponytail. you were quick to grab ahold of his cock, sensitive to the touch and causing jeongin to gasp.

finally, you built up the courage to close your mouth around the head, slowly taking more of him in until your throat closed around him— gagging.

"careful angel, take your time," jeongin says, pulling your head up gently.

you two created a gentle rhythm, bobbing your head, every vein running along your tongue. it was really happening, your first time ever being intimate with your best friend and so many people were watching it happen. jeongin's pretty moans filled the room once again, sending more shocks throughout your body.

"they said you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth," jeongin comments, "does it make you feel better knowing they like you?" he asks.

you pull him out of your mouth and nod, giving him a soft smile, "yeah."

"good, you're doing so good." he praises. just another thing for you to imagine when thinking about fucking him.

you formed a ball of spit on your tongue before letting it drip onto his tip, a soft sigh leaving his mouth at the sight and feeling. your tongue laid flat against it, brushing along his slit every so often. jeongin could not take this anymore, he only wished he could fuck you right now and see how much of a mess you'd actually be.

the thought wouldn't leave his brain, to have you under him full of his cock, dumb and drooling, tears escaping your eyes. he'd do it if it wasn't for everyone watching and knowing what you agreed on beforehand. he just knew your cunt felt way better than how your mouth already felt.

you took him in so well, slowly but surely being able to take more of him without gagging. he was too big and he found it amusing seeing you struggle with a mouth full of dick.

"look at you," he says, corner of his lip curling up.

jeongin was already so god damn obsessed with you, your hot and wet mouth covering him and leaving him to imagine it was your pussy providing the pleasure to his cock instead.

"if only i was fucking you angel, god you have no idea how slutty and messy you'd look," jeongin groaned, chuckling slightly after.

his words effected you like no other, the lace covering you soaking more by the minute. the thought didn't leave your mind either, you just knew he'd be rough with you especially with the way he was handling your head right now— his dominance just escalating as you went on.

"fuck," jeongin cursed, along with some groans following. he couldn't resist when his hips began to buck up, tip hitting your throat with force.

you close your eyes, hands holding onto jeongin's thighs. at first, he thought you'd tap out but instead you allowed him to fuck your throat as fast and as hard as he wanted to. though, you felt a little ache in the back of your throat, you still somehow enjoyed how he was having his way with you.

your mask began to slip, ribbon loosening more with each forceful movement of jeongin's hand. he hadn't noticed since his head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. your hands were too busy gripping on his thighs for dear life to help yourself.

eventually he looked down, heart falling to his stomach when he saw your eyes slowly being exposed. he took his hands off and stopped all his actions to tighten the mask. he did it quick and with ease, anxious to continue mouthfucking you.

"pretty girl, you are doing so well," jeongin whispered, bending down to kiss your forehead then sat back, hand tangled in your hair once again.

his lips pressing against your forehead was something you wanted to feel everyday for the rest of your life, it was so comforting. hearing him say that you were doing a great job and give you a forehead kiss as a badge of honor really pulled at your heartstrings.

you whine around him, tears were daring to fall from your eyes and seep through the mask. this action sent vibrations to his cock, causing him to buck and whimper quietly. every time a simple curse or whimper fell from his lips it was impossible to not let out a muffled moan yourself, which only pushed jeongin further.

jeongin was losing it as he tried to contain himself. the urge to scream your name from the top of his lungs was killing him, his nickname for you being the only thing he was able to let out.

"fuck angel," he groans. his thrusts into your mouth began getting sloppy, the room was drowned in his beautiful noises.

at this point he had completly forgotten about the stream as he continued abusing your poor throat. he let out deep grunts, pulling your hair with an extremely tight grip to keep you in place.

"angel's just my pretty little fuck hole isn't she?" jeongin asked, knowing his question couldn't be answered by you but you both knew the answer to it.

it was so damn obvious, and you only wished he would continue to make you feel like just a mouth to fuck. you had felt some type of pride making him feel this way, already so fucked out from the feeling of your lips sucking him in.

"i'm so close, make me cum, make me cum angel," jeongin repeats, voice higher pitched as he grew closer to his high, "so good for me."

one of your hands fall from his thighs to cover his that sat in your hair. you could feel his skin covered in lube, no doubt parts of your hair were covered as well. you didn't care, you'd get as messy as you could if that meant jeongin was the cause.

you bobbed your head even with his dick partly down your throat. you did everything in your power to give him the best head he's ever got. jeongin was whining and loosing his grip on your hair. he twitched in your mouth, fucking up into it roughly, saying things that were incoherent.

jeongin's other hand rushed to grab yours that was still gripping onto his thigh. he held it tightly, face scrunching and basically drooling from the mouth at you being a spit stained mess.

"oh fuck!" he cried out, hips stutter up into your mouth, hot cum spill down your throat.

jeongin pulled up your head slowly, still cumming as he slid along your tongue. he tasted surprisingly better than anyone before, he sounded pretty too— his constant whimpers you wanted to hear more of each time he let one out. music to your ears.

you hummed in satisfaction, watching him ride out his high. he threw his head back against his head rest, eyes closed and looking so fucking hot. not like he wasn't already before, seeing him like this and knowing you were the cause of his fucked outness drove you insane.

you wanted to have him drilling inside you rapidly until you couldn't feel anything, numb to the touch. time could only tell, you weren't gonna give your hopes up. hoping this wouldn't be the last time you and jeongin would be doing something like this.

eventually, jeongin pulled your head all the way back until he fell from your mouth— waiting for you to swallow. your throat was so abused that swallowing caused you to wince.

the boy was breathing heavily, his grip falling from your hair. his body became less tense, stomach unclenching, beautiful body on display for everyone looking at him. honestly, you wish you had your phone to capture this exact moment, he was definitely one of the most gorgeous men you've met.

a smiled played along his face, eyes opening and looking down at you. he turned his head to the monitor, seeing all the tips that were given while he wasn't looking, so he could pay attention to you.

"thank you guys, i hope you enjoyed," jeongin says, breathlessly. he was rushing to get off the stream to be alone with you, thoughts of his after stream shower with you, bare wet body pressed against his.

god. he was in love. he already knew, but this just confirmed it fully and he wanted all his time in the world to be spent with you, spent kissing you, spent loving you, spent fucking you into bliss. he needed to fuck you tonight, it was driving him mad.

"i'll see you next week," he said, blowing a kiss and quickly ending the live.

he sat back once again with uneven breath, head dizzy and still trying come back to reality. he could even tell he was slurring his words slightly before he ended the live.

"oh my god, that was so good," jeongin says, panting and trying to regain his control.

you couldn't believe what had just happened, sitting back on your knees absolutely dumbfounded and taking your mask off gently. jeongin smiles at you, lifting his hips so he could pull up his pants. he sits up, turning everything that was on off and turning his attention back to you immediately.

"you did fucking amazing, come here," jeongin praised, leaning towards you and capturing your lips in a kiss.

it took you aback, considering not only was that your first kiss but he did it and could still taste himself on your tongue.

"made so much because of you, how did you like it?" he asked, wiping the tear that fell from the corner of your eye.

"it was.... not bad, actually," you said. doing this wouldn't be so bad if that meant you'd being doing it with your bestfriend.

"i told you. keep it up and i might just have to keep you around," jeongin says, which made your head spin at the fact he was actually considering that. he grabs a towel that's set aside and wipes his hands clean from lube, soon folding it and using the corner to clear up your face.

"we should shower and i'll get you a glass of salt water to gargle, wouldn't want you feeling gross in the morning," jeongin stood up, grabbing your arms to pull up your body.

his kindness was always part of his charm, no matter what he'd do anything to make sure you weren't hurt and had the support you needed. you were led to the bathroom where he sat you on the toilet and started a warm shower for you both. you knew this meant he was going to see you completely nude, not that the lingerie left much up to his imagination in the first place.

"come on baby, take this off," jeongin said softly, bending down to help, sliding it down your shoulders.

you couldn't catch feelings for him, no way. that would only mess things up, you thought. the two of you being bestfriends for so long and never once showing a bit of attraction for one another, what would a relationship do to that? what if things don't work out and it ruins your friendship after the fact.

"you okay?" jeongin asked, noticing the look of discomfort on your face.

you force a smile onto your face, nodding in response, "yeah, i'm fine. why do you ask?"

"you seem—i dunno, out of it," he says, he knew you better than anyone and if the stream was the reason for your discomfort he'd do what he could to make it up to you, "did that make you, yunno—"

"no, jeongin. i liked it," you reassure. his face lights up at your words, heart beating faster, especially when you said, "i did." making sure he heard correctly.

"well, okay then," jeongin stayed quiet until you both stepped foot into the shower, the warm water hitting your back.

the tension was so strong, you got weak in the knees from his touch— hands on your waist to push you until your hair soaked with water. jeongin found it difficult to not get hard again when you look like this, relaxed under the warm water that eased your muscles.

"feel good?" jeongin asked. you hum with eyes closed, looking more beautiful than ever, "turn around so i can wash your hair."

you do as told, turning your back towards him and waiting patiently to feel his hands in your hair once again. he strains the water from it, picking up the shampoo and squeezing it into his hands. his fingers ran along your scalp gently and massaging it as he goes.

everything about this felt so normal, to have him care for you like this really had you falling for him. you felt calm and comfortable as he washed your hair for you. with how rough he was being before with your head, the gentleness threw you for a loop. the dynamic was insanely attractive to you—gentleman on the streets, freak in the sheets.

he finishes and takes the shower head off to rinse the bubbles of, fingers once again massaging their way through. he watched the water run down the arch of your back—ass right there for him to just grab. jeongin really could hide how hard he was, he stood as far back as he could but still close enough to clean you up so you wouldn't suddenly be met with a surprise poking at you.

"jeongin?" you call out, softly.

he had thought he'd been caught but he answered you anyways before assuming, "yes?"

you turn, facing him again. looking up into his eyes made butterflies flutter in your stomach. he didn't know what you were going to say, but he waited until you spoke again.

"i... like you," you admit. you felt stupid admitting this after sucking his dick and seeing how good he was at his job that you were hoping would become yours as well, "like a lot. i would love to help you with your future streams, if you're looking for a partner."

"if it's you, then i'm okay with it. i like you too," he replies.

it had taken so long for him to actually say that, anxiety running through his body each time he tried to have a serious conversation about his feelings with you.

"you do?" you ask, surprised.

"for some time now, yeah." jeongin says. he didn't talk about you being his thoughts when jacking off, but he no longer needed to do that anymore. you were his.

you both smile brightly at each other, jeongin hand cupping your cheek, bodies closing the gap and kissing each other deeply. it only got more and more heated, jeongin had to pull away and control himself. he closes his eyes, feeling embarrassed from what was about to come out of his mouth, "god i want to fuck you so bad right now."

"looks like it," you joke, looking down to see his hard cock poking at your stomach then meeting his gaze again, "so what's stopping you?"

jeongin shook his head, wearing a grin before he pressed you up against the cold tile, "fuck, what am i going to do with you angel?"