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makeyoumine69 · 1 year ago

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Starfall (commission)

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Ever since he was a kid, Patrick always had everything he wanted. Always egoistical and entitled, he always took everything he had for granted. But what happens when one day his entire world falls apart when he receives a call?

— CONTAINS: Patrick Bateman's POV and no other warnings in order to avoid spoilers!😏

— WORDS: 2.3k

— A/N: Writing Patrick's POV was such a rollercoaster experience for me, so I want to thank a person who asked me to write this commission. Love you guys, I hope you like it!💗

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [COMMISSIONS] [AO3] [buy me a coffee]💓

The sudden knock on my office door made me frown in annoyance, as I was in the middle of listening to the new Phil Collins tape. Slowly, I removed my headphones and turned to look at Jean, her expression was something between sorrow and shock.

"What is it?" I ask, straightening my red tie.

"P-Patrick... I got a call from..."

Jesus, why do women always need to be so slow?

"A call from?" I repeated, crossing my arms in a mannerly way, without missing a chance to check my gold Rolex.

"From the hospital." She blurted out quickly before dropping her head.

I still didn't understand why she looked so sad, so I leaned back in my chair and let out a tired sigh.

"So you interrupted me because some asshole dialed the wrong number?" I pointed at my phone, enjoying the way she got embarrassed. "When I have a break, it means I don't exist to anyone, even you, Jean. How many times have I told you that?"

"It's about (y/n)," something heavy fell in my stomach. "They called to say that she got in a car accident, and they found your office number in her wallet."

Her words hit me harder than a truck, and I could swear I felt my blood freeze in my veins from the creeping fear. Fear of losing you. I stood up before even thinking about it, my hands shaking, but I tried my best to keep my cool.

"Patrick." Jean muttered as she watched me put on my coat.

"Where is she?"

"Can I come with you? I want to help."

"WHERE IS SHE?" I didn't even notice my voice getting loud, but when I saw Jean's frightened glance, a shaky breath escaped my lungs and I closed my eyes for a second. "Sorry."

"I... it's okay, I understand." She carefully handed me my scarf, which had accidentally fallen, and I hadn't even noticed. "I wrote down the address."

In addition to my scarf, she gave me a piece of paper with her note, I could barely control myself now that I realized what was happening was real.

"Thank you, Jean." I mumble, buttoning my coat and taking my briefcase. "For everything."

The taxi ride took only 20 minutes, but to me it felt like an eternity, and when I finally saw the outline of the hospital, I let out a nervous breath and got out of the car. I paid the taxi driver double what I had to, but I didn't care.

With every step I took, my heart was about to burst through my rib cage, it was beating so fast that it even hurt, and I felt so helpless and miserable under the weight of circumstances that I found it difficult to even open the main door.

Inside the hospital, time seemed to stop for me. I looked around, trying not to panic, and rushed to the reception desk, almost bumping into a nurse on the way.

The receptionist noticed my anxiety and overtook me, asking in a calm voice, "How can I help you, sir?"

"I... I'm looking for (y/n). I was informed that she's here." I said hesitantly, leaning on the reception desk.

"One moment, please." The middle-aged lady replied, fixed her glasses and picked up the phone to make a call.

To be fair, I tried not to listen to what she was saying, doing my best to distract myself from thinking about the worst, as if the worst hadn't already happened. Fuck, I'm such a mess.

"Sir?"

I shrugged at the receptionist's voice and cleared my dry throat. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"The patient you asked about. Her condition is stable now, but she's in a coma. And we can't say when she'll—"

"Can I see her?" I interrupted, my emotions finally taking over.

The lady sighed, but said nothing.

"Please," the grief and despair were eating me from the inside, and I was about to lose myself at any moment. "I need to see her and talk to the doctor!"

"I completely understand your feelings, sir," she held out her hand in a reassuring gesture. "I'll see what I can do. Please wait here."

In a few minutes I was walking down the long, dimly lit corridor, accompanied by several nurses. I had never been more scared in my life, I could feel my heartbeat pounding against my ears as my blood rushed through my veins as if I were about to jump off the top of the Empire State Building.

When one of the nurses stopped near the door to what I assumed was your medical room, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a few seconds. No, I was not prepared for what awaited me behind that door, but was it possible to be prepared at all?

Suffocating, I managed to open the door and walked in, all my insides tightened the moment I saw you lying on the hospital bed, your face looked so peaceful, even with the oxygen mask on, you were like a sleeping beauty.

At first I didn't know what to do, so I just stood by the door for a while, and only then did I dare to approach your small, motionless form. Cautiously, as if afraid to wake you up, I sat down next to your bed and I thought my eyes were already beginning to water.

"Hello, dear." I murmured sadly, slowly running my hand along the edge of the bed. "I... I'm here now, and everything's going to be okay. I promise you."

I felt stupid because I knew you couldn't hear me, but still, my urge to assure you that everything would be fine didn't seem strange to me. I brushed away a single tear that ran down my cheek, which you always loved to stroke, and looked at your face, wishing for a moment that I could remove this mask and press my lips to yours. I damned myself for not doing it more often when you were around. God, why did I always have to be so stubborn and arrogant?

"(Y/n), you've always been so kind to me, and you've never asked for anything in return… and I probably didn't appreciate it as much as I should have." I paused when my trembling hand found yours, and then I stared down at it. Every time I noticed how tiny your palm was compared to mine, it made something inside of me quiver.

Cursing myself, I sobbed pathetically and squeezed your hand. "And you never tried to change me or fix me, you accepted me as I am, but... but you never knew what terrible things I did! Jesus!" I was getting hysterical, but now I could no longer hide my emotions. Hateress cursed through my body, burning me like a glowing iron.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that I wasn't completely open with you! I just didn't want you to know all the shit I've done in my fucking life!" As I continued to confess, both my arms now wrapped around your fragile frame, I laid my head on your chest, feeling your steady breathing. "Please don't go... I can't do this alone."

The beeping of the medical equipment mixed with my own whimpering, and the whole word seemed to be reduced to this small medical room, where a psycho like me was drowning in the swamp of grief.

"Maybe I'm a sick guy, but I need you more than I ever imagined," I gritted my teeth in disgust. "God damn it! I'm so fucking selfish, even now I only think about myself... I'm so fucking—"

The sound of the door opening made me almost choke. Hesitantly, I fixed my disheveled hair and wiped away my tears before turning around to see a guy who was probably a doctor, and I expected nothing but the worst. When I noticed his relaxed expression, I frowned and almost pleaded:

"Tell me she's going to be okay."

The doctor paused and looked through the papers in his hands. "According to our tests, we expect her condition to get better in a few days."

A small drop of sweat fell from my forehead the moment I heard those words. With a sigh of relief, I quickly got up from the chair and stumbled over to the doctor.

"Thank you," I managed to say, trying to shake his hand, but my body did not seem to listen to me. "If you need anything, let me know. I'll do everything I can."

The doctor nodded. I sat next to you again and mumbled that you were going to be okay. The way I was talking reminded me of the times when you couldn't sleep, and I lulled you by telling you stories where we would run away and finally be alone together. In the end, that would happen, I wouldn't let anything take that away from us, and even if I had to go to hell, I would do it.

"I'll always be here, love," I murmured, kissing the top of your palm. "Please come back."

One of the reasons I was really proud of my apartment was the view, even if it didn't overlook the park, you loved it and that was all that mattered.

Trapped in my thoughts, I stood next to the wide window in my living room and watched the night city through the open blinds. I could still feel your sweet scent on my skin, I could still hear the lewd sounds of us making love just a moment ago. Smiling, I closed my eyes and returned to the pleasurable images in my head, even though you were only a few feet away, lying in my big bed, I already missed you, but I would never tell you that.

I didn't know how long I stayed like this, but when I noticed your half-naked figure in the doorway of my bedroom, I gasped because I couldn't resist how beautiful you were, especially when you looked at me like that, with your deer-like, devoted eyes.

"Can't sleep?" You asked me, yawning a little and hugging yourself.

I grinned again, hiding my hands in the pockets of my gray sweatpants. "I'm just trying to understand why do you find this view so special," I crooned in a seductive voice. "But since you're awake, maybe you'll explain it to me?"

You gave me a mischievous grin, and I didn't even have to beckon you over as you slowly approached me, wrapped your elegant arms around my torso, and I purred in response. I didn't really like hugs, but when it came to YOU, it was a different story.

"Well, usually at night you can see some shooting stars," you murmured, still pressed against my chest. "And every time it happens, I make a wish."

For God's sake! Your naivety and innocence always struck a chord in my heart, making me grin like an idiot, though I was glad you couldn't see me right now, as I held you close, stroking your back and breathing in your scent, which had become so tranquilizing to me.

"Oh! Look!" You suddenly exclaimed, moving closer to the window. "A falling star!"

"Where?"

"Right there!" You took my hand and pointed to the spot in the midnight sky.

I laughed, admiring how excited you were, sometimes I thought you would never grow up and that was something cute, I could even say I was really jealous because I never allowed myself to act like that.

"Patrick, we should make a wish!"

"Like what?"

"Just think of something that you want to come true," you continued to bubble, frowning a bit as you probably were thinking about the list of wishes you might have. "Think, Patrick!"

Your childish attitude made me sigh as I rolled my eyes. "All right, all right. I want this moment to last forever."

"Why did you say that out loud?" You suddenly grumbled and broke out of my embrace. "It won't work if you say your wish out loud, didn't you know that?"

"Honestly, I don't believe in such things," I moved closer to hug you again, but you pushed me away jokingly, your pretty lips pouted. "Oh, honey, c'mon! I can't take this seriously!"

"Then I'll leave you here alone to think about it." You stuck out your tongue teasingly and slowly moved away from me.

"Besides, I already have everything I want," I chuckled smugly, feeling a bit turned on by the way you swayed your hips. "You know what I mean."

"Maybe..." You purred, making your voice sound even more seductive, before disappearing into the darkness behind me.

Only with you did I realize that I had always lived for emotions, that I had done so many terrible things because I was a sucker for the adrenaline. And you were my strongest addiction, but not one that killed, but one that freed me from my fears, my demons, my sins.

Shaking slightly, I let out a loud gasp as I felt a searing pain cut me from the inside like a fan of knives. Then I turned back to the window and saw my own reflection. I blinked several times, feeling the tears weeping in my empty eyes.

"(Y/n)?" When I called your name and no one answered, I almost fell to my knees.

My wounded heart started to bleed, as once again I was alone. Sobbing, I pressed my head against the cold glass and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks. And there was nothing left for me to do but hold on to the warm memories of those days.

The days when you were here with me.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

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kxxkiecxre · 2 years ago

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╰┈➤ Friend - Zone | Kim Taehyung.

✎PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Fem! Reader

✎SUMMARY: he’s got money to spend, and you’re right there. Sitting all pretty for him.

✎WARNINGS: unprotected penetrative sex(wrap it before you tap it!), dom!tae, sub!reader, oral (f&M receiving), fWB,overstimulation, titty licking because he’s obsessed with her breasts, spoiled reader, unintentional sugar daddy tae.

Unedited as I was falling asleep while writing this lol

He’s so hot, and he knows it. That fucker knows exactly what he does to you, because there’s absolutely no reason for him to be sitting across you looking into your eyes with heavy lids, clearly sexually frustrated. You’re not sure why though, was it the skimpy little silky red dress? Or was it the black lace adorning the hems of it, laying perfectly against your chest? Perhaps it was your wavy dark hair? No, could it be your siren gaze? Or maybe it was the way your foot left your black louboutin, dragging itself up his leg and resting in between his thighs. Glancing down, he could see the diamond glazed fish nets, and fuck, did it drive him absolutely crazy.

You were evil for this. Licking your pretty peachy lips, caramel skin glistening under the low lighting of the fancy restaurant your friends decided on. But he wasn’t any better, sitting across you in his all black slacks. Black button up, sleeves rolled up to show off his gold Rolex perhaps? First few buttons undone, revealing his chest. He was dressed black head to toe aside from that damned stupid watch. Fuck.

Smirking as secretly at him as you can, you sucked onto the straw of your cocktail, enjoying the slight burn of the drink. He swallowed, licking his bottom lip as he pocked his cheek with his tongue. His hand, the one with the damned watch, disappeared under the table, fingers gently skimming your clothed skin. Earning an unexpected gasp of you.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook leaned over to you, concern prominent in his voice.

“Everything is perfect.”

Brows furrowing for a second, he shrugged, turning back to the rest of the group as taehyung continued to gaze at you confidently, challenging you in a sense as his long finger hooked into one of the holes of your fishnets, bare finger on your hot skin. What an incredibly hot asshole.

Blinking gently, you smirked brazenly.

“Kook? Would you mind taking me home, I’ve had a few drinks I really wouldn’t want to risk going out anywhere by myself.” You called out to Jungkook, eyes never daring to leave taehyungs darkened ones.

“Of course-“

“That’s okay kook, I’ll bring her home since I’m going anyway.”

Once again Jungkooks brows furrowed cutely, and you felt bad for the poor boy, “are you okay with that Y/N?”.

“Yes kookie, I’ll be fine.” You smiled at him sweetly. Getting up out of your seat as taehyungs hand laid on the small of your back, urging you to walk forward.

You couldn’t help it. Being a tease like this was only the result of his own actions. Him flirting with that overly beautiful waitress, and you getting jealous. It didn’t make sense, because to everyone else, the pair of you were just best friends. And though it didn’t actually give you any certain kind of dibs, he was fucking you on a down low. Every day, every night, every morning. It’s not like he was yours to claim, or like you actually had the right of be jealous, because he wasn’t anything more than that. Sex.

Sure he was your best friend, but you can’t claim your best friend as your own. Unless of course, you’re in a relationship on the low-low. Sure friends with benefits is a thing, but it’s no real relationship. Just sex. It’s not like you don’t think Tae was relationship worthy, because he was. If anything he’s one of those guys you hear women dream of, but you? You were nothing but a girl who loved living in the moment, you loved skimpy clothes and loud music. You loved cold alcoholic drinks on a private jet, and enjoyed the luxury life.

Could you afford the luxury life by yourself? No. Could your best friend? Yes.

It’s not like you were using him, you never intended for him to spend his money on you. That’s the last thing you wanted. But somehow, you went from fucking, to cuddling, to being with each other twenty four seven, which essentially meant Taehyung got attached, meaning everywhere tae went, you had to follow. Private restaurant boots, expensive little dresses, a whole rack of louboutins. Handbags ranging from Chanel to Moncler. Pearls of all colours and sizes, gold watches, Swarovski’s finest cut diamond necklaces. Anything you laid your eyes on, taehyung bought it.

Matter of fact, this little dress your wearing, he bought it. A Vera wang creation you set your eyes on right after he fucked you in the backseat of his car in a parking lot. How classy.

Taehyung only wanted what’s best for you, as someone who means the world to him. As someone who he sees marrying in the future. God he loved you so much. He wasn’t sure wether that was reciprocated, though it didn’t necessarily matter so long as you were by his side. Friends with benefits or not. He didn’t care. You could have all his money, all his cars, everything you wanted. You had access to all of his cars, each day you could drive any one of them. You had the key to his house, some of your stuff in his closet. Basically very domestic, just not labelled.

Money was never a big thing for taehyung, he’s had enough of it to last a lifetime. Which meant he only needed someone to spend it other than himself, and then you came along, and he immediately knew his worth became yours. Every two weeks on the dot, he’d hand you his card, and have his driver bring you to your nail appointments. Every couple months he’d ask you if you wanted to do something new with your hair, and as of recently he went as far as to ask if you genuinely loved the little wooden cabin in the forest you saw on the internet, the very next day bringing you a confirmation letter of buying it in your name.

So that brings you here, hollowing your cheeks as you let him use your mouth however he pleased. It wasn’t that you felt like you had to do it, no. You wanted him to do it, you needed him to do it. You genuinely believed you wouldn’t survive it if he didn’t touch your body in some way. You loved having him use your body, and you loved him in general. It was a win-win situation.

“Fuck baby,” he grunted, pulling himself out of your mouth, “on the bed love spread your legs for me.”

Like the obedient girl you are, you laid on the bed, left in nothing but your Swarovski diamond clustered fishnets, legs wide open for him as he crawled up the bed menacingly. Staring at your clothed pussy hungrily, like a starved man. He could see the little wet patch against the material of your red thong and it drove him wild.

Taehyung was a man of patience for many things, but not in this case. His patience always seemed to be on the whim when it came to getting a taste of you, which is what lead him to ripping the expensive yet extremely fragile material to shreds. Exposing a large enough hole around your pussy. His finger hooked into the material of the thong, pulling it to the side.

Almost like he was making out, he sucked into each lip of your pussy with a mouthful of sugar. So sweet and gentle, absolutely devouring your pussy whole. His tongue ran laps up, from the bottom to the top. Flicking little motions upwards onto your clit as you began to sign, his tongue alternating between sucking and flicking, building a pace of movement, a rhythm. It was insane how fast he could get you breathless, hands desperately clutching onto the sheets of his bed.

His finger slipped inside your seeping hole, god you could feel yourself dripping down your ass, surely making a mess of his sheets. With his mouth suckling on your clit, tongue flicking your nub and finger pushing in and out of you, you were moaning like your life depended on it.

“Tae fuck,” your sighs were so sweet, so high pitched and breathy god he loved it.

His finger hooked inside you, picking up his pace as your hips began moving against his mouth, begging for your sweet, divine release, “shit please just fuck me tae.”

“Impatient hm?” He chuckled, kissing his way from your pussy to your throat, sucking sweet little spots of bruise here and there.

“Make me cum baby” you held his face in your hands, staring deeply in his dark eyes.

“Ah don’t do this to me beautiful” his forehead rested against yours, hand tugging on his hard cock.

Both of your eyes focused on his dick, the way it rubbed up and down your wet pussy, foreheads still pressed against each other and your hand still resting around the back of his head. Slowly, he pushed the tip in. Looking at your reaction as he bottomed out, eyes shutting tightly as you gasped, fingers tangling in his long locks. He swore he’s never seen a more beautiful and majestic creature like you. No human, anything, could ever amount to the beauty you hold for him. You were his everything.

He took his time with you, thrusting slowly in and out, building you up as you cling onto him, one of your legs rested against his waist, deepening the angle of his thrusts. He started building it up, going faster, his thrusts somehow reaching deeper each time he dragged out and back inside. He could see himself inside you, kissing your cervix each time he came back inside. It was amazing. Just how well your bodies connected.

A few more thrusts of his quick and ruthless thrusts and you were arching into him, moaning his name like a chant, nails dragging around his back as you came. He chased his high right after you, thrusts becoming sloppy as he finally let go. Face nuzzled in your neck as you ran your fingers through his hair. It was peaceful, serene.

“Wanna go on a cruise with me?” He asked, kissing your neck softly.

“Sure why not” you giggled as he started pecking your face all over.

“As my girlfriend” he followed up, your eyes widening, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“As your girlfriend?”

“Yes”

“Tae, are you messing with me?”

“No baby, I want to do everything with you… as my girlfriend. Wife. Whatever. I just want you to be mine.”

Smiling to yourself, you hold his face in your hands, staring deeply in his eyes, “of course baby, but pull out of me now we need to shower. We reek of sex.”

He smirks at you, pulling out and drawing a hiss from both of you from the overstimulation,

“I love shower sex.”

AN: y’all better help me figure out how to end Drabbles because I’m always lost lol.

No recreation, translation or copying of any form of my works is permitted!!

MASTERLIST

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succubusonthedoorstep · 2 years ago

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ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀ!ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.1k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Levi's huge crush, suggestive content, explicit language, heavy flirting, love bites, grinding, he steals your shorts and panties, biting, infidelity, nipple pinching, headcanon format! (Read part two here!)

Neighbor!Levi who moves in a year after you. Spotting him with cardboard boxes while tending to the community garden, you gave a small wave and tried not to stare too hard at his biceps. He acknowledged you with a small nod.

Neighbor!Levi who stares at your butt while you’re bending down to inspect your tulips. The curve of your ass in those shorts had him running upstairs and back down so he wouldn’t miss you leaving.

Neighbor!Levi who introduces himself like a gentleman as you’re closing the garden gate and locking it. His hand is warm and he shakes it for longer than expected, but you’re too caught up in his conversation to notice.

“Do you take care of all this yourself?”

“No, Mrs. Chisholm helps when she can. She’s taking it easy these days, though.”

He frowned and released your hand, leaving it colder than before.

“If I can plant something here, I’ll help you care for them.”

Neighbor!Levi who knew he was gonna help you anyway. There was nothing that could stand between him and his fixation with his endearing neighbor. The smile you gave him confirmed his place in the garden and he gaped at your hips swaying as you walked back to your corner apartment. You went upstairs, passed several doors, and opened the one next to his.

Neighbor!Levi, whose heart drops to his stomach at the sight of you peeking back at him as your door shuts. He watches a pink light flicker on before stuffing his hands in his pockets and striding upstairs.

After talking for the next few days, Neighbor!Levi catches on to your tricks. He’s getting familiar with your collection of shorts and already has a favorite- the mini ones that you sleep in, first catching them in the morning when you’re stepping out onto your balcony.

Neighbor!Levi watches your breasts peek out from the tank top you have on as you lean over the railing to chat with him. The gray sweatpants he has on does little to hide the growing bulge between his legs and he didn’t bother to wear a shirt to greet the warm morning, but you weren’t complaining. The thin gold chain that he wore to bed drew your eyes to his collarbone and had you licking your lips at the thoughts it brought.

Neighbor!Levi finds himself inviting you over brunch, calling it a “favor for finding a place for me.” He doesn’t have to tidy much but a few dishes in the sink, but he finds himself adjusting the pillows on his bed anyway. He tried telling himself it was redundant, but it did little to settle the hopes he had.

Neighbor!Levi opens his door and finds you looking stunning, though you argued there was nothing special about the leggings and t-shirt combo you were sporting. He only rolled his eyes and allowed you in.

“You decorate well, Levi. A woman’s touch?”

If only you knew. The only woman Levi had the mind to touch felt far no matter how close she may be.

“Not a lot of women coming in and out of here,” he remarked. “I don’t have time for ‘em.”

“Oh? What do you do for work that makes you so busy?”

“I…” he pulled a flat pan out from a cabinet, setting it on the stove. “I have a small business with my friends.”

Neighbor!Levi’s little white lie was enough to convince you. The blooming orchids in a vase and glassware in his china cabinet showcased the successes of his career- the men you dated before couldn’t afford the Rolexes you spotted him in, let alone this apartment’s rent.

Neighbor!Levi let you take the reins, assisting wherever you needed him. Forgot an egg for your crepes? He was already there with another one. Needed to put on your apron? He dug one out of his pantry and looped it around your neck, walking around you to tie it.

Neighbor!Levi feels you lean back on his hard body, your ass pressing into his dick print. You’re impossible to resist anymore- he needs a taste. His mouth connects with your neck, tongue skillfully finding a sensitive spot. Your moans echoed off his walls, head tilting to give him more space to work.

Neighbor!Levi’s big hands trail into your shirt to cup your tits, giving them a few languorous squeezes that had your nipples hardening under the fabric. “Juuust like that,” he encouraged between kisses, the praise leading directly into your panties. “Push that ass back on me, you know what to do.”

Neighbor!Levi pulled down the cup of your bra to pinch your nipple and pull it slightly. The purple love bites blooming on your skin made his heart melt, and in his needy haze, Levi bit at your neck.

Neighbor!Levi feels you jump in surprise, spilling the crepe batter onto his apron and your house shoes.

“Shit…” he grumbled, pulling away to help you clean up. “I’m sorry- I got carried away… your shoes-“

“It’s fine, they were pretty old,” you chimed in, slipping the ruined apron from your body. “Could you go into my apartment and get my other ones? They should be in my room by the closet.”

Neighbor!Levi nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him quietly. What was he thinking? He was usually much more clear in his thoughts and actions, but you managed to wrap around his head like a cloud. He spends his short walk from his apartment and into yours brooding over what just happened. It felt amazing for him- the bulge in his pants could tell you that without words. He was positive you knew, a sentiment that lightened the weight in his heart.

Neighbor!Levi navigates your home easily as the layouts were nearly identical.

Neighbor!Levi finds your room and enters, his eyes landing directly on the pink velvet sleep shorts hanging out of your hamper. He reached for them and held them up, imagining your ass hanging out of them while you lay in bed. A matching pair of hot pink panties were inside of the shorts, and Levi felt his cock twitch.

Neighbor!Levi stuffs the fabric into the band of his sweats. Snatching the house shoes from the floor and nearly running out of the bedroom, he stopped abruptly in his tracks.

Neighbor!Levi could only stare at the framed pictures sitting on your dresser- pictures of you with a tall brunette from last Valentine’s day.

Like + Reblog! Tysm for reading! ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Part two is out on Valentine’s Day!

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roeroe-world · 6 months ago

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harlem world. (paid in full edition)

starring: laparriea as astrid, mekhi phifer as mitch

set in the mid to late 1980s.

warning(s): harsh language, use of marijuana, very detailed explicit smut, adult situations

Loud rap music blares loudly throughout the crowded block. Conversations and laughter being shared between individuals. It seems live, a block party but specifically for a certain group of people.

Everyone looked like money, incredibly flashy. Dressed in the finest furs, MCM coats, Rolexes, diamond and gold jewelry, Dapper Dan fashions. Sports cars, specifically Mercedes Benz’s were parked in the area— right in front of food joint, Willie’s Burger.

Pagers beeped at a constant rate in the atmosphere, alluring black and brown women flooding the social space as the men spit game— in the meanwhile exuding arrogance yet confidence ‘cause they know they got it like that.

If you were here, it was a significant reminder that you made it.

Almost every dude in the hoods of Harlem wished to be in the shoes of those who were able to make it to that level. The women, the clothes, the jewelry, the cars, the money, the love. Not many could achieve that level of success in the hood but if you did… you were that nigga.

“Nah, b. I was rockin’ Gucci before all of y’all niggas. Y’all just catchin’ the wave. Nah’ mean?”

The New York accents were severely heavy, ranging through the air. Often banging their fists into the palm of their hands or slapping their palms together, speaking with their hands as they get their points across. Stacks of money being tossed into the air.

The women were fly but in Mitch’s eyes, they had absolutely nothing on her.

Leaning on the hood of the cherry red BMW Ace gifted him— his pools of brown softly pierces at the side profile of the captivating young woman standing spaces afar from where he stood.

Her skin a perfect shade of brown, an ebony goddess. Eyes slanted, lashes curly and luscious. Cheekbones sitting high and mighty. Lips painted a bright shade of red, complimenting her skin tone.

Jet black tresses curled to perfection, pausing above her waist.

She was fly, a gray fur coat upon her frame. Bamboo heart shaped earrings amongst her ears, bouncing with every movement she made. A lollipop resting in her mouth.

The woman stood between another man’s legs, smiling in his face. Meanwhile, Mitch had a woman in his arms as she smiles in his face just as bright as hers— failing to attempt to keep his undivided attention on her. She follows his eyes, instantaneously growing upset the second she sets her eyes on the scene.

With an eye roll, she kisses her teeth before sending a rough shove to his shoulder and walking off with a switch in her hips.

Mitch’s eyebrows furrow in slight irritation at the woman’s sudden actions yet watches her hips for a moment then returns his gaze onto the beauty. Without wasting another second, he makes his way over.

Her short French tip manicure caresses the gold Jesus piece hanging around the man’s neck. Pearly whites being showcased as she converses with the male, beginning to caress his low beard and stare in his direction in pure infatuation yet lust.

She seems engulfed into his presence until Mitch made his presence very known.

“Astrid…” That familiar tone of voice, his dialect meets her eardrums causing her to nearly melt. Her head nearly snapping in his direction but she maintains her composure. “How’s it goin’, baby? You missed me?”

Their eyes connecting, a knowing smirk upon both of their canvases, “How’s it goin’, Mitch? I heard you were out.” Intentionally, she avoids his questions given they were being listened to and watched.

“Mitch. What’s happenin’ baby?” Dash quizzes, pulling the woman closer in his arms. His pools of brown searching upward and downward upon the man, wondering what he wanted. Already aggravated by his presence.

Astrid grasps the opportunity of analyzing Mitch’s frame, subtly admiring how fly he looked while her current companion tries to spark up a conversation.

Mitch glances the male up and down, letting out a slight comical laugh. “I’m livin’, b. I’m livin’…” His gaze averting onto the beauty. “This your mans now, huh?” His tone full of amusement and jealousy but he kept it cool, pointing in the male’s direction. Despite being bitter about the situation.

Her smile slightly drops, chuckling nervously. Before she could respond, Dash stands to his feet completely, gently forcing Astrid’s body behind his frame— no longer leaning on the side of his Benz. His hands folding in front of his frame. “Yeah, I’m her nigga now. What the fuck about it?” He steps to him fearlessly, their pools of brown piercing into one another’s intensely. There was no more playing nice.

The two men began to have a face off, staring in each other’s faces in silence. Pure hatred filling their brown orbs. They didn’t know each other quite well but they knew of each other around the way. Mitch couldn’t say he never liked him before but that’s all changed. He despises him now.

“Fuck out of my face, mothafucka.” Mitch sends him a mean mug, glancing over Dash’s shoulder. His attention falling upon a speechless Astrid. “Let me know when you ready to fuck with a real nigga again.” He marches away from the scene, pushing through the crowd and ignoring the stares.

Dash sends the air a kick of anger. “Kick fuckin’ rocks, you punk ass nigga. Get the fuck outta here. The fuck is he talkin’ about again? Fuck is he talkin’ bout, yo.”

Astrid waves him off, sending him an eye roll, “I’m ready to go. Take me home.” Her leather high heeled boots clicking against the pavement as she walks to the passenger side of his vehicle.

The male stood there, staring at the woman while clenching his jaw to maintain his composure. His fists tightening at his sides, lips completely sealed to refrain from saying something he would ultimately regret.

She sends him a look, “Dash?” With the simple harsh summon of his name, he pulls up his jeans before furiously marching to the driver’s side of his Benz and forcing the door open.

Dash speeds off the sidewalk, Astrid sitting in the passenger side. “Yo, what the fuck—” Her head resting in the palm of her hand, a heavy stressful sigh passing her lips while the male began to start an explosive argument with her.

Mitch overhears the commotion, observing the drop top speed off with a head shake. He takes a pull of the lit blunt in his hand, choosing to sit in his vehicle instead.

————

Humming to herself, Astrid wipes the kitchen table. Her natural tresses swinging in the high ponytail upon her head with every step she takes. She began to wipe the counters. The television playing softly in the background from the living room of her two bedroom spacious apartment.

She’d spent most of the day cleaning, resetting her space. Rearranging picture frames, furniture, tossing out belongings that she no longer needs.

It was just one of those days.

These past couple of weeks has been pretty rough for the young woman. Work as well as her personal life kept her overstimulated. She was in need of a reset. And as the saying goes, ‘Cleanliness is next to Godliness.’

Three lovely knocks meets her door earning a sigh of pure annoyance from the woman. Honestly, she’s in no mood to deal with people at the moment.

Kissing her teeth at the sight in the peephole, she cracks the door open halfway, “You got some damn nerve showing up here, Mitch.” His smile drops the moment he catches the stern expression on her face. She doesn’t appear too ecstatic to see him.

“What, baby? I can’t come see you no more?”

Mitch remained persistent since that night of chaos and pettiness. Days at a time, he would send flowers and make efforts to talk to her but she would blow him off. Though, Astrid could tell he’s working to the best of his ability to be back in her good graces again.

“Why do you keep bothering me?” Her head tilts to the side in irritation yet amusement.

“Why you actin’ like that? That nigga Dash in here or somethin’?” He tries to get a good look inside and fails severely as she prepares to slam the door in his face. “First of all, Dash isn’t my father. Two, I never forgot how foul you did me. Don’t think ‘cause you been locked up that I bumped my head and caught amnesia.”

His facial expression softens. Unfortunately, she’s absolutely right. She wouldn’t have forgotten his mistakes and his wrongdoings. Astrid is far from stupid and he wouldn’t exactly expect her to be easy on him yet that doesn’t stop him from trying.

“Yo, Astrid?” He began. She sighs already knowing he’s gonna feed her the same bullshit she used to fall for. “I know I fucked up, aight? I’m just tryna… I’m righting my wrongs. When I was locked down all I thought about was you, how much I missed you—”

“You ain’t waste no time to go back to hustling. Did you?” The woman interrupts him, no longer in the mood to hear any more lovey dovey shit. His silence proves her right, encouraging her to utter, “Exactly.”

“We all gotta eat. I can’t take care of you with no bread, baby. You know that?”

“I ain’t knocking your hustle. Do you what you gotta do. Besides, I’m so sick of you niggas tellin’ me y’all can take care of me and buy me this— buy me that. I can already do all that myself.” She argues. Frustration fueling her veins.

Mitch isn’t the first nor the last hustler she’s dated. Most of them were arrogant and made money their entire personality, she dreaded men that way. More often, they couldn’t treat her right.

They treated her more like a trophy, a possession. But Mitch…

“I know that.” He laughs slightly, leaning against the doorframe. “I know you make your own money but so do I and I like spending it on you. That shit ain’t gon’ change.” His gaze deep and passionate as he admires her natural beauty.

Their pools of brown flowing into one another’s intensely, “I’ve been such a bitch to you and you still won’t leave me alone?”

“Nah. I’m used to way worse.”

Mitch was different than the others.

Minus the issues of their relationship. She couldn’t deny how much of a passionate lover Mitch was. What they had was natural, never a lick of anything superficial. He treated her like his woman, not a possession.

She sends an eye roll, unable to fight her laughter. “Whatever, boy. What you want? I’m in the middle of something right now.” She lies straight through her teeth. Her apartment is practically clean.

“To take you out to eat. That’s it. I’ll bring you back home. No funny business.”

Looking him up and down, her tongue sliding against the side of her mouth, “Fine.” She gives in. “No funny business.” The beauty sending him a slight stern look but he could recognize her walls were slowly crumbling apart.

“Aight.” He remains nonchalant, fighting his smile yet not taking his eyes off of her.

————

“Oh, wow.” Analyzing the inside of the restaurant, she fights her smile but eventually loses. “This is where we had our first date.” The restaurant was all too familiar to her. In fact, it began to bring back memories. Memories she and Mitch shared. It was apart of their history.

His lips forming into a charismatic smile, he replies, “Yeah. You remember?”

She doesn’t respond, allowing him to take her hand and lead her to their appointed table. “I was tryna impress you…” He tells her, his mind traveling back to that day. Suddenly, every detail began rushing through their minds.

They take a seat but instead of a regular table, the duo were seated at a booth unlike the last time. The second his arm sits upon her shoulder to pull her warm body closer to his, her gaze meets his hand before she sends him a look, “Don’t think everything is cool now ‘cause you did all of this. Remember you left me at my lowest, Mitch.” It seems as if he’s getting too comfortable.

A sigh escaping his throat, “I—”

“What can I get you two to drink?” The waiter unintentionally interrupts the male, glancing between the two unknowingly. “Just get us a bottle of Champagne.” He doesn’t even bother to look in the waiter’s direction, observing the young woman peering across the restaurant.

Her naturally long jet black tresses were pinned into an updo, exposing her captivating canvas. Even when she’s mad, she’s gorgeous.

The second the waiter saunters off, he summons her name, “Astrid?”

He didn’t understand her mood swings. Everything seemed cool in the car on the way here. Yet, she switched up on him that quick. It began to stress the male out. His patience was beginning to wane.

Her head turns to face him, glancing at his lips to his pools of brown, “Mitch?” She crosses her arms. “I lost our baby. The least you could’ve done was be there for me.”

The sudden mention of the miscarriage made him sit back, the subject made his entire demeanor change. His attention averting away from the woman seated on the side of his being.

“I wanted to be there for you but I got knocked. You know that.”

“Of course, I know. I also know that you don’t give a fuck about anybody but yourself. It’s you before anybody.”

“Yo, what?” His facial expression curls upward, head tilting backward in pure offense. “You know that ain’t true, Astrid. The miscarriage hurt me too. I tried to be the best support system I could be. Fuck, I got knocked. The fuck could I do from jail?” He manages to keep his voice down but others seated amongst the duo sensed the tension. “How long you gonna punish me, yo? I’m trying.”

Astrid doesn’t respond, keeping her lips sealed before uttering something she would regret. She couldn’t see past her anger nor her hurt to hear him out. She keeps her gaze ahead, fighting her tears.

“What I also know is that you ain’t pay me not one visit— you ain’t answer my phone calls nor did you write me back when I was in the joint. Let’s talk about that, huh?”

Scoffing, her head shaking side to side, “Take me home, Mitch.”

He watches her scoot out of the booth, angrily strutting past their table. At this point, they were earning stares. The waiter returns to the scene in confusion, the bottle of Champagne in hand.

“Send it back. We don’t need it.”

Despite not being able to have a drink nor a meal, he leaves a fat tip on the table and gets out of the booth. Disappointment and aggravation clouding over his frame.

————

The car ride was severely silent. The wind blowing against both of their canvases and Astrid’s hair as Mitch’s drop top was down. Slow jams filling the space between the two as they snuck occasional glances at one another. They hadn’t uttered a single word to each other since their small disagreement at the restaurant.

Pride was eating at the both of them, resulting in the two to keep their lips sealed. Though, they had so much to say. So much pent up.

Parking in front of the apartment building, Astrid immediately reaches for the door. “Don’t you dare touch that door.” His voice meets her eardrums and she sits back, letting out a deep sigh.

The male gets out of the vehicle first, waltzing to the other side to open the door for the woman. Her gaze averts upward in his direction, their eyes connecting as she hops out. He breaks it before shutting the door behind her being.

Connecting their hands, “You got any business to take care of tonight?” She quizzes, a glint in her eye.

“Maybe.” He replies smartly.

“Put it on hold.” His eyebrow raising at the woman’s demand. “I need you to take care of me right now.”

Her head buries into the crook of his neck, planting sensual kisses while traveling to his jawline— soon came his lips. Their lips connect into a soft union, growing fervent as time progresses.

Each breath one let out, the other sucked in. Pink wet muscles dancing with one another hungrily, ardent. Their heart beat racing as neither of the two struggled to keep up. They matched each other’s energy perfectly.

The young woman disconnects their lips, Mitch pursues for more— his low bedroom eyes piercing deeply downward into hers but she tilts her head backward. Patience is a virtue. Instead, maintains the tight grip on his hand and leads him inside of her apartment building.

The night is still young.

The second they step foot inside of her apartment, Mitch was on the woman like white on rice. He pins her hands above her head against the wall, tonguing her down as if his life depended upon it.

It began to grow hot, extremely hot. The humid temperature led to the pair ripping off their clothes, completely bare and sweaty.

He was in absolute control as he wasted no more time to enter her wanting, dripping crevice. “O-Oh shit!” His hips circling into hers deeply, passionately. His pools of brown pouring deep into hers, her legs tightening around his waist so she couldn’t fall out of his tight hold.

Astrid’s head falls against the wall, mouth hanging agape. Pleasure clouds her lust filled brain daze. Neither of two could think clearly, lost in the world of fire and desire.

She took whatever he offered like a good girl, screaming to the top of her lungs. Her once neat apartment began to get messy as their sexcapades grew wilder, their body parts knocking over whatever is in their way. They were like animals, ravishing their prey which happens to be one another.

All this time of being apart, not with one another when they’ve been longing to be in this position. Yet, they were, in multiple positions indeed.

The pent up anger and frustration increased their stamina. Hours they went on, experiencing orgasms at an exhausting rate, not for once becoming tired of one another. In fact, the couple was dedicated to showcase their talents. It became more of a competition, a challenge. So far, Mitch had the upper hand, fucking her so good that it brought her to tears.

“Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Her squeals high-pitched and deafening.

“You like that shit?” Mitch’s voice deep and rough, roaring throughout the apartment. His gold chain dangling in her face.

They talked their shit, mouths uttering nothing but pure filth that they were in dire need of having their mouths washed out with soap. Astrid left him tongue tied with her tricks but it wouldn’t be long before he would outshine her which he did. Every single fucking time. The neighbors being the least of their concerns.

At times, Astrid would try to be as quiet as she could. But she couldn’t, especially when she was trying to prove that he isn’t getting the best of her when indeed he is. He left her screaming, creaming, crying for the most high.

“Fuckkkk…” She cries out into the atmosphere. French tip acrylics dragging along his sweaty chest, needy watery eyes peering upward in the male’s direction. Legs cracked open widely. Desperate for more as if her aching pussy isn’t being fed enough as is.

The couch shook violently. The harsh sounds of skin slapping surrounds the humid living room. Mitch’s grip upon her shaky thighs were tight so she wouldn’t escape, her nectar flowing through her cavern excessively curating loud squelching sounds. Both of their gazes occasionally glancing at where their bodies met, the pair feeling the intense passion.

“Fuck, I love you.” The woman babbles drunkenly though she isn’t under any kind of influence. “I love you, Mitch. Don’t ever leave me again.” Tears cascading along her mahogany cheeks.

His top row of pearly whites sinks into his plump bottom lip, groaning to himself, “Fuck.” He was giving her his absolute all, an ultimately mind blowing performance. He looked incredibly sexy on top of her, sweating and panting heavily.

Astrid pulls his thick, long phallus out of her and welcomes him between her warm first pair of lips instead. Her gaze low and seductive, crawling to him upon her knees without a single complaint. Mitch’s mouth fell agape yet again for the millionth time tonight, watching her head bob up and down with much passion. Her hand twisting around his veiny hardened member all in the same note.

“Ah, shit.” He moans lowly, eyes shutting in pure pleasure for a moment. His fingers tangling within her messy tresses that sweated out due to their activities.

“Fuck, I missed you…” She sucks him off like no tomorrow, kissing and licking it as if it would be her last. “I love you too. I ain’t going no fuckin’ where, baby.” He babbles mindlessly though he meant every word he said, rocking his hips into her face. His reaction only encourages her to go harder.

Tears rolling along her face with a mouth full, grasping the opportunity of tasting her sweet honey in the process. Clearly, she isn’t trying to be pretty nor cute. But in Mitch’s eyes, she looked incredibly sexy, slurping him into cloud nine.

Her cavern throbbing for him again but she’s focused on pleasuring him, not holding back whatsoever. “Hm, I missed you.” She hums softly, going back to work. In the meanwhile, admiring the creation of his curved dick. Her tight throat welcoming him without an issue, making love to him using her tongue. Her tongue could do wonders.

She’s far from afraid of it. Her first go round, she avoided it but now she went all the way. Complete full throttle. Not once did Astrid hold back, especially tonight.

Honestly, this isn’t her thing and she didn’t do it for every guy she’s been with sexually. But for Mitch, Astrid went there and not once does she feel disgusted nor ashamed about it. It came naturally.

Then she stops, in desperate need of the sensation of him inside of her again, sitting upon his lap and sinking onto his rock hard member yet again. “Yes…” She sighs to herself, eyes rolling to the back of her skull. Mitch observing her reaction as well as her breasts, sending a harsh smack to her backside.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.” She bounces on top of Mitch’s lap, fucking herself into oblivion. Lips falling agape as squeals and whines escapes her throat. Her hands resting on his chest.

The male sits up to bury his face into the crook of her neck, leaving love bites upon her smooth ebony skin. The throbbing, the pleasure, the pain intensifying with each passing second. Panting heavily, Mitch encourages her, “Come for me. Let that shit go.” He fucks up into her, tapping at her spot consistently, his climax quickly approaching yet again for the night.

“Mitch…” She whimpers, eyebrows furrowing together pleasurably.

A familiar sensation within the pent of her stomach approaches and she couldn’t contain it any longer. “There you go, baby.” It was as if her soul was being snatched out of her body the moment her orgasm comes crashing down upon the woman. Her legs shaking violently.

His gaze falling between their connected bodies, admiring how soaked and sloppy everything looks. She felt so good, too good.

“Oh, shit.” He groans aloud, reaching his climax as well. His tongue dragging across his lips as his arms tightens around her waist. Mitch ensures every drop of his seed meets her walls.

A moment of silence clouds the two before Astrid lets out a small laugh of disbelief, mind blown by what just occurred between the two. One thing for sure, she was far from disappointed.

————

The frying pan sizzles intensely as Astrid cracks an egg carefully to prevent any shells from falling inside. Rap music blasting from the stereo system due to Mitch turning it on before hopping in the shower.

The morning after their wild night fell and she was still on a slight high, smiling brightly whenever memories would flood her mind. It left her in a good enough mood to cook.

Whilst stirring the eggs, Mitch enters the kitchen. A towel loosely hanging from his waist. He grabs a piece of bacon from the plate off the table, taking a bite before sending a slap to her backside. Astrid slightly jumps, “Stoppp!” She drags out, blushing wildly. “You owe me for my hair appointment too.”

Previously, her tresses were all over the place. The strands were frizzy and slightly untamed. She didn’t want to deal with it so she put her hair in a ponytail which happens to be messy but it was decent for the moment.

His arms enveloping around her waist, head resting upon her shoulder. “I got you.” Lips meeting the side of her neck, planting small loving pecks along her mahogany skin.

A couple enthusiastic knocks pounds upon her door earning the couple’s attention. “Yo, Astrid, baby? It’s me. Open the door.” Dash’s booming voice is heard from the outside. A heavy sigh passing Astrid’s lips. Mitch couldn’t help but to chuckle to himself, chewing softly on the piece of bacon in his mouth.

“Don’t you start, Mitchell.” She points the spatula in the male’s direction, sitting it down amongst the counter. The male’s pools of brown trailing up and down the beauty’s petite frame as she began to walk past him.

Adjusting her silk robe, the woman unlocks and opens the door halfway to lay eyes on a grinning Dash. “What’s up? I hit you up earlier. You ain’t get my call.” He appears ecstatic to see her though Astrid couldn’t exactly say she felt the same.

Dash was a guy she liked at some point of time. She held an infatuation with his personality, also enjoyed the stacks of money he would give her just because. But Dash was just company. A man she dealt with whenever she was in the mood or bored.

Her manicured hand reaching to the side of her neck, scratching it awkwardly, “I…” She began, though she couldn’t finish her sentence.

Mitch smoothly saunters behind the woman, standing firmly and looking him dead in the eye. “She was busy.” He answers for her, making his presence very known, watching Dash’s entire demeanor change. He couldn’t lie, Mitch enjoyed seeing that dumbfounded expression upon his canvas.

“What the fuck goin’ on, Astrid? Why this wack ass nigga speakin’ to me right now?” Dash points to the male, laughing as if he’s a joke.

“She ain’t your concern no more. So whatever y’all had before is dead, my nigga. Don’t come around here no more.” The woman remains silent as Mitch speaks loud and clear. His Harlem accent strong and demanding, not a single speck of hesitation nor crack within his tone. He was quite adamant about his demands.

It wouldn’t take long for Dash to connect the dots, glancing between the two. “Yo…” Dash began in realization, lifting a fist to his mouth. “I see what this is. Aight, aight. Cool.” He maintains his composure, grinning knowingly. “I see how it is.” Though he’s highly upset, she could tell. An expression of defeat falling onto his canvas.

“So, baby, you fuckin’ with him now? Hm? That’s what we doin’? After everything I did for you, ma.” Dash lets out a calm laugh, his head nodding in quite disbelief. It was a taking a lot in him to not go off but he kept his cool. He remained nonchalant.

“Yeah, she fuckin’ with a real nigga again.” The arrogant smirk upon Mitch’s lips results in Dash’s chest to slightly heavy up and down. He so badly wanted to smack it off. “You was just somebody she was dealin’ with to kill time when I was gone. But I’m back and your time is up.”

It was no secret that Astrid and Mitch had history. Mitch didn’t play about her and that’s never changed. After he was arrested, men wasted no absolute time to make advances towards the woman— Dash being one of them. They were aware that it really wasn’t much that Mitch could do inside. Plus, Astrid is a grown woman.

But now that he’s free, he returned to reclaim what was once his and will always be.

Astrid glances between the two, holding her laughter. She wasn’t exactly expecting this interaction but she doesn’t stop it nor does she encourage it. Her silence triggers Dash.

“What he sayin’ true, Astrid?” His gaze averting onto the young woman behind his oversized clear glass frames, adjusting his black Kangol bucket hat before folding his hands in front of his frame. “I thought we had somethin’ special. You was playin’ me?”

Softly, she simply says, “Dash…” Ultimately feeling bad for him.

“You got the point? Cool. Go kick some fuckin’ rocks then, punk ass nigga.”

Mitch pulls the woman closer to his bare chest, rudely slamming the door in the male’s face and locking the door. Astrid sends him a look causing his eyebrows to furrow together, replying with, “What?” He returns to kitchen and she follows closely behind, giggling softly.

“You a fuckin’ mess.”

#black beauty #80s #paid in full #Mitch #black love #black women #black men #roeroeworld #laparriea #romance

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olaqueenbeeofastrology · 19 days ago

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legalkimchi · 1 year ago

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Sometimes I hate the world.

So I love wristwatches. It started when I found myself working at a mall jewelry story around the recession of 2006. Staring at them for hours, I started to appreciate them. I marvel at the engineering behind them and the artistry of watches. Many luxury watches are hand made by skilled watchmakers. They are superfluous. They don't control time in any way and your phone is more accurate but I love them.

Part of collecting watches is the large portion of the watch community that buys them to flex their wealth. It's an annoying truth of it. Folks like Kevin oleary love showing off their collection of millions of dollars of watches. There are lyrics in songs about Audemar piguet, patek Phillipe and of course, rolex. (Which, by the way, is a nice watch maker but by no means the best or most expensive. They just have really good marketing...)

But that community is plagued with the same issues of any community. Racism, classism, ableism, sexism, etc. There was one time I was watching a video discussing a smaller watch and the reviewer asked "who is this for? Women? Asians?" He was making a comment on smaller wrist size. As an Asian with an above average sized wrist, I was put off by this random comment. But facing that sort of racism is pretty benign, relatively.

I saw a discussion on what is luxury in the watch world. Lots of folks like to wax poetically about it. Be to be honest, most watches are luxury products. Unnecessary pieces of jewelry. To be fair, I think that's fine, but some folks feel the need to say otherwise to defend their spending habits.

But I commented a softball. I merely said, if you have the money to buy a $400,000 watch, you probably have a moral obligation to help people with your money and not buy such a purchase. While some watches get super expensive, when you get to that level you aren't paying for an artists work, or even the gold or platinum of the watch, you are paying money to show off you are paying money. You clearly have hundreds of millions, if not billions, and should probably help people with that money.

I try not to get bullish about socialism in a hobby watch forum. I try to play nice.

But then someone had to comment about they would rather buy a luxury timepiece than "squander it on people who will be hungry tomorrow."

And I wasn't even sure how to proceed. As there are rules in the watch forum that state to be "nice" and "civil" I simply stated that the statement showcased a severe disconnect with our two moral philosophies and out of respect for the forum runners, I would not comment further.

But others joined the discussion to call out, gently, this person's ridiculous viewpoint.

And he doubled down. Saying he felt it was more a "national government" issue and that he felt it was "offensive" to give to someone in need. Stating giving to the poor keeps them poor. And he wasn't going to "gamble on layabouts."

Thankfully there was a block function.

I always try to engage with folks first with compassion and second with the benefit of the doubt.

But there was no use arguing with this vile person. It would have lead to me being thrown out of the forum (which is generally a nice place) and him still being there. Because he wouldn't attack me, just poor people. It is a common rhetorical tactic to exclude those fighting the good fight.

Just an annoying way to start my day...

#watches #socialism

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magnoliacharmed · 7 months ago

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Hurtin' But It's Happy Hour

18+, Shawn Michaels x Sycho Sid one shot

[Also available on Archive on Our Own!]

[There's also a part 1 to this-- not necessary to read before this one but here it is: Awakening]

Tags: Drunk sex, mild painplay, rough sex, jealousy (kinda), spanking, biting, rough oral sex, choking, scratching, creampie, shawn is kind of a brat

Word count: 3709

Summary:

Sid loses control himself while out at the bar with Shawn.

Shawn was feeling especially cute tonight. He took some extra time to get ready before his date-- well, not really a date… his outing with Sid. Looking in the bathroom's mirror, he shook his head from side to side to fluff his recently touched up hair. A good majority of his afternoon was spent at the salon where middle-aged women who'd never heard his name (they assumed he was one of the Chippendale's boys and he wasn't going to tell them any different) oohed-and-awed over his soft, pretty locks. Sid wasn't in the mood for the love-fest and Shawn was sure no one was going to try to kick his ass, so Sid left him to his own devices. How one man could need that much adoration and attention, Sid would never understand. As long as he didn't have to be the only one who gave it to him he was happy.

A hard succession of knocks on the hotel room door made Shawn rush out of the bathroom. According to the steady green glow of the nightstand alarm clock, his big dope of a bodyguard was ten minutes early. Didn't he know by now that Shawn needed every second of primp time? Shawn hopped around the room while he put on his black cowboy boots, searching for his shiny new gold Rolex. He had a few different expensive watches, but this one was particularly special to him. The band of smooth metal wrapped snugly around his wrist and he knew he was ready to go-- wait! The final piece of his outfit sat carefully on top of the dresser. He put it on and bounded over to the door, opening it so quickly that the wind of it made strands of it fly into his face.

"You're early."

"Yeah."

"What if I wasn't ready yet?"

"Well, you are."

A crimson bloom spread across Shawn's cheeks. He hoped that wasn't the only thing Sid would say about his look.

Sid let his eyes roam down Shawn's body. "Man in black tonight, huh? You look nice. You don't wear that cowboy hat often enough."

"Thank you." Shawn's voice came out a lot softer than even he expected to. "You smell nice."

"Oh yeah? It's some kind of fancy cologne someone got for me."

Sid finally let a small smile color his features. It was hard for him to accept gifts, but Shawn just kept giving them to him. First was the cologne, then a nice bottle of champagne. That was really a gift for the both of them, Sid figured. Shawn watched the movement of Sid's big hand as he reached up to scratch at his chin. There it was, his matching Rolex shining pretty on his wrist.

"You're wearing it!"

"'Course I am." The watch was a little loud for Sid's taste, but the gesture was appreciated. Shawn was a fidgety mess when he watched Sid open it, hoping such a pricey gift didn't scare him away. When Sid let it slide down his wrist and clicked the solid clasp closed with no words, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"You ready for tonight? I wanna get fucked up."

One of Sid's blond eyebrows arched up in question. Shawn always wanted to get fucked up, what was any different about tonight?

"And you are gonna get fucked up with me."

"Eh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Hey, I'm not payin' you to think."

Sid chewed at his lower lip, a pang of anger hitting him in the chest like a flash of lightning. Just because he'd gotten used to Shawn calling him stupid didn't mean he liked it.

"Watch it," Sid grabbed a little bit of Shawn's hair and yanked it hard, causing a yelp to squawk out from his boss.

"Ow! Okay, I'm sorry, geez. So sensitive. You're too big to let little ol' me get in your head like that."

Sid rolled his eyes. Maybe he did need a drink or two to deal with Shawn tonight. Shawn took his hat off to rub at the tender part of his scalp that Sid almost ripped his hair out from and sighed. God, that felt good. As usual, that little act of foreplay alone had him at half-mast. The night was young though, so he placed his hat back on his head and walked out of the room.

"Close that door and let's go, we've gotta call the cab."

Shawn was halfway down the hallway heading to the elevator as Sid pulled the door to his room shut.

---

"Keep the whiskey coming, please and thank you!"

Shawn nodded his head along, only slightly off-beat, to the loud music playing in the bar. His eyes were shut as he mumbled along the lyrics to a Motley Crue song. Even this drunk he still knew every word. As the song came to a close (Finally, he thought), another two shots of brown liquor were placed before them. Sid watched his own blurred hand pick his glass up and felt whiskey pour down his throat like lava.

"Aw man, you drank before we could toast."

Shawn used all of his might to focus his eyes on his shot glass. It was a Herculean task. He blinked slowly at the glass, and when he opened his eyes it was empty.

"Whoa. I drank it already?" His accent strengthened significantly when he wasn't sober, Sid had noticed. The slurring probably didn't help either.

"Who's the stupid one now?"

Sid laughed loudly at his rib towards Shawn. Shawn watched as Sid's head reached up to look at the ceiling, his mouth wide open and joyous tears clumping his eyelashes together. His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath from laughing so hard. If there was one thing Shawn was good at, it was cracking him up. He didn't even have to try, he was just inherently funny.

"Still you!" Shawn burped as he laughed. It was nice to see Sid not scowling for once. He waved over at the bartender, who shut his eyes like a parent running out of patience with an unruly toddler, to order another set of shots.

"More, Shawn?"

"I said I wanted to--" Another burp. "Get fucked up. Can't tap out yet! Oh shit. Tap out." From the way Shawn began to giggle, he thought he was pretty clever for that one.

"Okay. I'll be back, I gotta take a piss. Don't get yourself into trouble while I'm gone."

Even though Sid sounded like he was joking as he pointed a finger Shawn's way, the hard look in his eyes told a different story. Shawn nodded seriously. When Sid drank this much, he was essentially useless for what Shawn hired him for. Instead of watching his back, Sid was the one getting himself into trouble. Usually they got kicked out of wherever they were at before things really came to a head. A few too many close calls had kept Shawn from making Sid his official drinking partner, though. He could keep to himself for a few minutes while Sid was in the bathroom, right?

A short amount of time passed, it could've been seconds or only a few minutes as far as Shawn knew, before a shadow darkened his left side. He swiveled his body around on the barstool, almost falling off of it in the process, to face the man standing before him. He was cute enough, Shawn thought. Long, brown hair barely brushed his shoulders. A broad chest strained through his tight t-shirt. Brownish-green eyes seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting. Shawn felt like he was in a dream as a Van Halen song started to blast through the speakers, putting him in a trance he would be embarrassed about later.

"Nice hat. You from Texas?"

Shawn nodded his head slowly. This stranger, whoever he was, had a mischievous look in his eyes. Most men that came up to him were either nervous wrecks or putting on a fake-it-'til-you-make-it level of confidence that turned Shawn off. Whoever this guy was though, he seemed very sure of himself. And he was just Shawn's type too. Shawn looked up at the man through his long eyelashes, batting his eyelids at him while he poked his bottom lip out.

The man's breath hitched in his chest. Shawn may have been way past tipsy, but he could still sniff out attraction from a mile away. His lowered inhibitions made him bolder than usual. He hooked a finger into the belt loop of the man's jeans, pulling him closer a few steps so he could feel his warmth. Something about the word 'trouble' echoed around in his head for one second, but he pushed it away. He was just having a little fun, no big deal.

"San Antonio, to be exact. Where are you from?"

Shawn lowered his voice down to a molasses sweet slowness that he knew would crack this guy's cool facade. Readjusting himself to sit up straighter on the stool, he also took the time to let his legs spread open. Just as he expected, the man's eyes took a glance down to his zipper…. Hook, line, and sinker.

"I'm from--"

Suddenly, the guy turned his attention away from Shawn's face to look up and over his head. Sid's expression was hard as his breath huffed out from his nostrils, not unlike a bull ready to charge at the red cape. Shawn scooted his body back around away from the man to face Sid's undoubtedly pissed off self. But he could explain!

"I can explain, Sid."

"Hush."

"It's just…"

"I said hush."

With the way Sid's eyes bored into his, drilling right past his skull and into his brain, Shawn decided that being quiet was probably a good idea.

"Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you still here?"

Sid's eyes moved back up to the guy, blinking hard and quick. To his credit, he wasn't cowering in fear. By this point most other men would be running scared. Most of the time Sid didn't even get to show how "psycho" he could be.

"Who the fuck am I? Who are you? I was obviously busy." The man waved his hand absentmindedly in Shawn's direction.

"You're not busy any more. Keep it movin' before I make you move."

An unhinged edge was nipping at Sid's voice. Shawn hoped that for everyone's sake this guy would take the hint and get out of dodge. And yet… he hoped he would keep pressing his luck, too. Selfishly, and Shawn knew it was selfish because he began to get hard at the thought, he hoped the guy would pick a fight that would lead to Sid smacking him around. Sid was scary and mean when he was riled up like this, which turned Shawn on beyond belief. God, forgive him.

"Yeah? You and what army?"

There it is, Shawn thought. It didn't take much to provoke Sid.

The clatter of the barstool Shawn was sitting on falling to the floor made everyone turn to see what the commotion was. Sid had slapped the man so hard he lost his balance. Shawn jetted out from between to avoid any damage while Sid pushed the stool out of his way to continue on. Sid's left fist careened square into the nose of the man who got more than he bargained for. The way his cartilage crumpled and collapsed from Sid's hand made a few people gasp in awe. As the man collapsed onto the floor with blood beginning to pour out from his nostrils, Sid lunged forward to grab the collar of his shirt. A few stiff slams of his body and head into the hardwood floor rattled him into yelling for help. People began to crowd around the scene, a cacophony of loud voices over the music making Shawn remember that he couldn't just stand there and let himself get hot and bothered. There was a very real possibility that if they didn't leave as soon as possible, his bodyguard could end up in jail for the weekend. Vince let Shawn get away with a lot, more than he deserved, but he would have a hard time explaining this jam to him if it went any further.

"Sid, we need to leave. Now."

Shawn tried not to trip over himself as he placed a steadying hand on Sid's shoulder. When he turned away from the sentient glob of snot, blood, and tears that was once Shawn's former suitor, Shawn couldn't help but to widen his eyes. Sid's face was incredibly flushed, his blue eyes widely sitting in his face like two glass marbles. Sweat beaded at his hairline and poured down into his face. Despite it stinging his eyes, he kept them open to stare into and then past Shawn. Very quickly, his anger at this nobody popped like a balloon and was replaced by the urgent need to fuck Shawn until he passed out.

"Come on, enough!"

Shawn pulled at his shirt in an attempt to get him off of the guy. With one last right hook into the man's cheek, Sid raised himself slowly away. The commotion ceased itself when Sid began to look around at everyone, daring someone to step his way. When no one decided to try it, he grabbed Shawn by the arm and dragged him out of the bar with an unpaid tab and worried mutters.

---

The short cab ride back to the hotel was silent outside of Sid's heavy breathing. When they exited the taxi, Shawn tossed the money at the driver and ran behind Sid to catch up with him. Oh, he was pissed alright. Steaming mad still, for some reason. Shawn thought for a moment he was so upset he wouldn't come back to his room with him until Sid jabbed his floor number when they stepped in the elevator. He walked ahead of him to open his door, anticipating with jumped up nervousness what was going to happen next. As he turned away from the door to take off his boots and put his hat down, Sid threw him hard onto the bed. He barely had enough time to make sure his hat hadn't gotten dirty in the whole scuffle.

Sid dragged and pulled Shawn's limp, still pretty drunk, body around to pull off his jeans and shirt. Once he was naked below him, Sid took off his own clothes and tilted his head to the side. Shawn raised on to his elbows while he watched Sid think of what he was going to do to him. As he expected, Sid began to climb on top of him. What he didn't expect was Sid continuing to climb until his knees were on either side of Shawn's chest, his dick bobbing right in Shawn's face. Sid pulled Shawn up closer to it by his hair, pressing his lips against the tip. In response Shawn rested his hands on Sid's ass, spurring him on to enter his mouth.

Shawn's mouth was nice and warm. Immediately he took to drooling on Sid's length, sucking lazily at his cock like they had all the time in the world. They kind of did-- by Shawn standards this was an early night. A steady stream of precome dribbled down Shawn's throat while Sid pushed further into his mouth. He was starting to choke him now, speeding up his pace and tugging harder and harder on Shawn's hair with every thrust. Shawn moaned around his cock, the humming sensation making Sid close his eyes in ecstasy. He could come just like this, plunging his dick down Shawn's throat, feeling his tongue slide around the underside of it while he sucked. The angle of Sid on top of him restricted some access to his lower half and it made Shawn frustrated that he couldn't stroke himself while Sid fucked his mouth.

"Hope you can breathe."

Shawn made a little huffing noise that was barely audible over the wet sounds of his own throat. He could breathe a little, which was just enough. Sid's legs stuttered-- he was close. He pulled out of Shawn's mouth to let him catch his breath for a second. Although the warmth of his mouth felt like heaven, it would have been a waste of an orgasm if he came right there. Shawn turned over on to his stomach to give his elbows a break. Just as soon as his face came to rest in the sheets, Sid was raising him up by his hips and palming his ass. His thumb ghosted over the tattoo on his cheek.

The stinging sensation of Sid's hand smacking one cheek made Shawn shiver. He continued to slap the same spot over and over, with more force each time until it was bright red and raw feeling. Shawn thought he was going to go crazy if Sid waited any longer to fuck him.

"You want any lube?"

Shawn's hair flew around him as he shook his head no. Sid pushed himself inside with no hesitation and expected Shawn's arch to falter, but he stayed right up just like the pro he was. Sid drunkenly watched as his cock disappeared inside of Shawn, all the way up into the very base of himself. He felt so good just like this, not even moving. He could fall asleep right here inside of him as the room swirled…

Shawn pushed back against Sid, chasing after his own orgasm since Sid wasn't following through. Nails dug into his hips and scraped down his thighs, the thought of long red scratch marks making him groan. Sid barely moved as Shawn fucked himself on Sid's dick. This wasn't what he wanted but it felt good anyways. He could imagine it, Sid looking down on him with a stupid, empty-headed look on his face. Shawn reached down to stroke his swinging cock at the image when Sid grabbed his wrist and held it against his lower back, pushing his arch down. It was almost as if he'd read his mind, because suddenly Sid was fucking him hard, grabbing him for purchase and rutting inside of him like an animal. He even breathed and panted like one, some kind of renewed energy flowing through his veins.

Sid could see the fading scars of the last scratches he'd left across his back and decided to freshen them up. Shawn threw his head back when he felt Sid's nails drag roughly down his shoulder blades and to his lower back. Already they were turning red, a nice contrast against Shawn's even tan. Shawn's knees spread farther and farther apart with each thrust and soon enough he was flat against the bed. Somehow he'd managed to go deeper with the change of position making tears well up in Shawn's eyes. He could feel Sid's breath by his ear, hot and loud against the sound of his own heartbeat. Sid gently brushed Shawn's hair away from said ear, lips murmuring into it.

"Hurt enough for you, Shawn?"

Shawn babbled something incoherent back. Every time Sid's hips pistoned, Shawn's own cock rubbed against the sheets. He could feel the wet spot below him starting to build.

"Do you think that guy at the bar could fuck you like this?"

Squeezed out tears rolled down Shawn's cheeks as he yelled out. "No!"

"You liked seeing me whoop his ass, huh?"

"Yes, fuck."

"I liked doing it too. 'Cause I knew it'd turn you on."

Sid grazed his teeth along the shell of Shawn's ear. He felt his body tense up below him and pulled his head up hard by his hair. From the little bit that was revealed to him, Shawn's face was a blushing wet mess, not only from his tears alone but drool that had dribbled out too. Shawn gasped when Sid's teeth sunk into his ear, a noise that was so loud they both hoped no one would knock on their door to see what was going on. Sid pushed Shawn's face back into the sheets and held it there, muffling his moans and whimpers, fucking him fast and hard until he couldn't take it any more. Sid's come flooded into Shawn's ass in a rush and Shawn followed suit shortly after, his come spreading across his skin and into the sheets. He could've sworn his eyes crossed as his body slackened up after the force of such a strong orgasm.

The two removed themselves from each other. Shawn rolled off of the bed and slowly made his way to the bathroom. Compared to the sight he saw earlier, he was a wreck. All that work those ladies put into his hair was for nothing as it sat in a tangled mess on top of his head. Pushing some it back, she saw the mark Sid left on his ear and smiled. Then of course was his back, which he wasn't able to get a great look at but was sure was damaged. His ass was sore, the cheek and inside of it. The scratches on his thighs looked rough. It was all so perfect.

"I think this was the best sex I've ever had-- hey!"

Shawn re-entered the bedroom to see Sid fast asleep, snoring lightly while he laid on his back. He was barely gone for five minutes!

"Wake up, night's not over yet! I'm still kinda drunk, and I'm hungry." Shawn grabbed a pillow and began to hit Sid with it, causing him to open his eyes in a daze. When he finally looked alert, Shawn threw the pillow to the side and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What am I supposed to do about that?" Sid blinked. How did Shawn still have energy?

"I'm gonna order a pizza. You're gonna go downstairs and get it."

"I--"

"I know you're hungry too. Besides, I can barely walk, which is your fault I must remind you, so you have to be the one to go get it. Don't worry, I'll give you some cash before you head down."

"Okay, I guess."

Sid tried not to fall back asleep as he heard Shawn dial away on the bedside telephone.

#shawn michaels #sycho sid #wrestling #magnoliafanfic #wrestling smut #wwe fanfiction

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a-cix · 1 year ago

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Draft - 12.13.23

Taekook. rich tae, waiter jk vibe. 2.2k

“Shh, sh-sh.”

In a room with people of such wealth and class, it is nothing for a man to silence a woman like so, even more so when that woman works for him. Tsk-tsk, their shushes seem to say. It is not said with offense or disgrace. It is not a How dare you, but rather a gentle prod: Do you not wish to be silent?

No one wants to listen to you, darling.

Jungkook watches the man shush the woman, her suit-skirt folding around her narrow hips as she bends to whisper to him, clipboard pushing up under her breasts. His hand moves around the back of the couch and ghosts at her hip, not quite touching her, but threatening to.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says quietly. “I’ll take care of it. Just reschedule my meetings tonight. And you can leave after. I don’t need you anymore. It’s been a long day.”

Jungkook listens. He watches the man, his gold watch flashing in the dim, warm light—a Rolex, Jungkook noticed earlier, from the moment he first laid eyes on this man, because he’s learned to spot signs of wealth. The man is put-together, in a tailored suit, another detail Jungkook can pick up on because he’s learned to spot it. This man is too tall for a generic suit to fit him so well. Besides, the dense fabric, the luxurious cufflinks, the clean seams, no suits made with such quality are available without tailoring. They are all custom-made.

“More champagne, sir?” Jungkook asks, replacing the woman as soon as she leaves. She must be a secretary of some sort, a personal assistant, a professional foot-massager or whatever else men like this typically keep these suited women with clipboards and hushed voices around for. Sometimes Jungkook feels that the women are simply there to make the men look important, as if they’re posturing to the other men in the room. Sometimes Jungkook thinks men like this fuck women just to titillate other men. Peak homoeroticism. Jungkook has slept with more than a few of the men who frequent this place, the ones who keep a few too many women around them, a few too many flashy things on their bodies. The ones who compensate. It always ends the same. He hopes it ends the same way with this man too.

The man turns to glance at Jungkook over his shoulder, one leg crossed over his other, ankle hooked over the knee, making himself look bigger as he expands into his lounge chair.

The man sees Jungkook’s face and smiles.

“What did you say?”

Jungkook smiles back. This man knows what Jungkook said. He just wants to hear it again. From this pretty mouth, this pretty face.

“Would you like some more champagne, sir?”

Jungkook says it carefully. He wants to make this man feel special. He wants him to know that this moment between them, this eye contact, this electricity, is not only real for both of them, but that to Jungkook it is everything.

You can save me, he wants to say with his eyes. Lowly little me.

It’s easier to fool people like this. Feigning ignorance and stupidity and poverty. Men like this, they like poor little boys, pathetic boys, boys who cry and whimper and ask why they get treated the way they do.

The man looks Jungkook up and down, just as Jungkook intended. But his eyes do not linger, not on Jungkook’s second-hand loafers, purposefully scraped up at the tips, or the crusty look of too much cheap gel in his hair. The man shakes his head and raises a hand.

“I’m okay, thank you.” He gives Jungkook a quick smile over his shoulder. Jungkook sees his tired eyes, strangely earnest, strangely heavy. “Long day tomorrow.”

Jungkook nods and backs off with a bow, balancing the tray of champagne flutes with the skill and dexterity of a thousand years.

He later sees the man heading out, his suit jacket folded neatly over his arm, his large hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stretches his neck in slow circles. Jungkook watches like a hawk, flaying the man open with his eyes, until the man looks at him, and suddenly he feels criminal. Caught. As if this man sees everything he has done, laid out before him like a glass box of artifacts. Title: Bad things I have done. Title: People like you I’ve fucked over. Title: The horrible, disgusting things I want you to do to me.

That night Jungkook thinks of the man, his kind smile and his deadly eyes. The way he balanced his single champagne flute in his tan, slender fingers. The way he spoke to Jungkook, offering him a piece of his life: Long day tomorrow. Why would he share such a thing? What did he have to gain from it?

Anything at all?

Jungkook mulls it over but comes up with nothing. Nothing but the cold darkness of his low ceiling and the extravagant loudness of the Seoul streets outside, the hum of electric vehicles he has yet to be able to afford, and the feeling of something chasing him. There are some things you can never get away from. Money, and no money.

Jungkook doesn’t see the man again until a big event comes about. It’s put on by one of the biggest law firms in Seoul, sponsored by the bar association. Because of this Jungkook sees many men he has dirtied his hands with in the past, and he passes by them, chin raised, as though they are nothing. Because they are. He has seen them naked, shrivelled, swollen cock flaccid on their bellies as they look Jungkook in the eye and tell him that he is the first person to ever understand them.

Of course he is. Jungkook is Jungkook. He is magnificent, empathetic, and sharp. So sharp. He cuts people open. He sees their insides.

After those moments of vulnerability, nights spent alone, nights of first-times and brand-new homoeroticism that Jungkook pretends to still be amazed by, he never sees these men again. They don’t come around. Sometimes he muses on how they go about it. They must come up with excuses. They must lie through their yellow smokers’ teeth. I’m busy tonight.

When the victories are magnificent, Jungkook likes to keep them on his bedside table for a few days, maybe even a week. He likes to wake up and see the gold glimmering in the afternoon light that streams into his apartment. He wakes late because he works late. He likes to say that he is young, that the night belongs to him, and to own something means to sacrifice another. The mornings are never his time, pale and grey. It doesn’t match his colour palette. He is a creature of the night. Darkness and orange candlelight, alcohol, red stoplights.

Jungkook likes the way his prizes smile at him. He rises at noon in his crummy apartment and fucks around till 4 pm or so, drinking tea, working out, eating expensive protein off the money of men he lets inside him. Salmon. Wagyu. Sometimes he eats canned tuna to stay humble, but it’s more like a joke he tells himself. Remember when I used to live like this? Not anymore. Now he is clever and his beauty and sexuality is his weapon. He likes to think he knows things people don’t, and that he is better at life than most because of his knowledge.

Knoweldge is money, so you’d think knowledge is everything, but it goes a bit deeper than that.

Clientele is SJ tn, Jimin’s text says, lighting up Jungkook’s phone screen as he walks from the train station down the familiar street that he’s made his own over the past three years. The vibrant lightbox signs and the headache advertisements used to sting, but he is no longer the boy he used to be. This is now his home. This route is where he prepares, plots things out, and becomes the character: Jung Kook. No last name, and not really a first name either. Just a name, whole and complete. An idea. A concept. International Playboy, he used to call himself jokingly, popping his collar in Jimin’s living room after a long night at work together, winding down into the early, buzzing mornings with a few too many shots of soju.

“Evening,” Jungkook says, poking his head into the staff lounge at the back of the building, flashing his signature smile. “Who’s the clientele tonight?”

He already knows, but he wants to know what everyone else knows, what they’re thinking.

“SJ,” Jimin says, standing with two of the girls near the water tub at the back, glowing blue in the artificial light the company pumps into the machine to make their water seem cleaner. As Jimin hands Jungkook the clipboard of tonight’s registered clients, they share a look. Jimin knows that Jungkook already knows, but it’s dog-eat-dog here. Jungkook flashes a smile to the two girls circling Jimin, the piranha-like smiles they give back, vaguely remembering their names and knowing they won’t last, not the way he and Jimin have. Here, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman or what your clientele is. What matters is your fluidiuty.

One of the women is too bright. Tries too hard. Jungkook has seen her on the floor, her sweaty smile at men who would never give her a second glance, the desperate shake of her voice. It doesn’t work like that. The other one is too timid. Jungkook has seen her so close to a victory, but she doesn’t bite. No teeth. Just gums. No man wants a gumjob. Men want a bitch with teeth who stays gentle only for him.

It’s only later in the evening, when Jungkook is so deep in his character—International Playboy, Jung Kook, two words, no last name, no first name—that he sees the man again. The man with the ghostly gentle fingers, the man whose strangely kind eyes make Jungkook feel watched.

“I’ll take that glass of champagne this time,” the man says, his lips smiling but his eyes hollow. Jungkook has had an eye on him all night, his mannerisms, his calculated movements, his smiles, his moments of boldness. Among businessmen like this, there are always such interesting hierarchies to take note of. The young man who makes the older men laugh. The older man who the young men crowd toward. Jungkook finds it disgusting. LIke watching cockroaches fuck. But this man is different. He is peaceful and removed from the grime of his circumstances. He does not laugh at crass jokes about women, but he does not cause a scene either, simply bowing his head and stepping away to seek another conversation, another glass of alcohol that he ends up leaving unfinished on a dressed table.

“You haven’t finished your last,” Jungkook says with a small smile, eyeing the last glass of bubbling fluid the man had left on the table ten minutes ago.

“Ah.” The man laughs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s not as nervous as he should be. It’s like he’s faking it. LIke he’s naturally confident, but wants to seem submissive and easy. Jungkook breathes in and out. Feels the conditioned air dry his throat. Maybe he’s overthinking things. Projecting. The man continues, “I, uh, I forgot about that.”

“Mm-hm.” Jungkook gives him a special smile, one of those smiles that say: this is only for you. But he grabs the man another glass of champagne because that’s his job. Toeing the line between professional and unprofessional. Give him 12 hours, maybe 6, and he could have this man naked, panting, swearing, professionalism be damned. Give Jungkook 24 hours and he could have this man fucked for a whole new reason. Maybe. Some people keep valuables easily accessible on their bedside table but some people lock them away, cheap fucks they are.

That’s all Jungkook thinks about: How easily could I steal from this person? How easily can I fuck you over? Sometimes, on the nights he drinks too much or thinks a little too deeply, it gets to him. His mannerisms, his shallowness. Sometimes, when his shift ends early, when he’s tuckered out and drained, he glances at Jimin and sees what they do in a different light. It’s disgusting. Usually he can sleep it off. You’ve gotta do what you gotta do. Lie, cheat, steal. Life is a game and money is the prize. There are no rules, not really.

As Jungkook brings a fresh glass of champagne to this man, his beautiful face, the relieved smile on his full lips, the way he brushes a strand of hair off his forehead as he accepts the glass flute in his fingertips, a delicate shake to his body, Jungkook feels guily for the first time. He thinks about how this will go. First, a statement—you are beautiful. Second, a lie—I’ve never felt this way about another man. Finally, an admission—You feel so good inside.

There’s always more after that, the part Jungkook does in the silence of the room after pretending to fall asleep, where he snatches what he saw in the room when the lights were still on. The things he noted down. He keeps it respectful. He erases from his mind the signs of misery, depression, or genuine existence, whether it be a month's worth of dirty clothes piled in a corner or a letter from a loved one pinned to the fridge. Jungkook never sees the person behind his crimes, and maybe that’s why he’s so good at what he does.

He is transparent. He is invisible and sees nothing.

19 notes · View notes