#i'm so deeply unwell. fuck. clutches my head. these two. these two...

[dataframe]

who up projecting all their horrors onto children who've had more fortune than youuu <3

[ID: A series of doodles featuring Miné Yoshitaka (Yakuza 3) and Shen Qingqiu (Scum Villain). In the first section, they inadvertently agree with irate expressions that "All orphans should kill themselves (they will never amount to anything)" while Sawamura Haruka and Luo Binghe haunt their backgrounds respectively. Then, eyeing each other suspiciously, Miné Yoshitaka pulls out a gun from his suit and Shen Qingqiu flips up his fan to hide his lower face. Notes indicate they've both been orphaned and take everything personally, with Shen Qingqiu having the added baggage of having been enslaved. The third has Shen Qingqiu draw Xiu Ya and Miné Yoshitaka draw his gun, though both have obstructed the other's attempts to use their chosen weapon; they yell "Kill yourself!" at each other. END ID.]

i've just realized miné and shen qingqiu would be the most insufferable duo alive. especially and most importantly to each other

[optimizche]

Bodyguard  (Park Chanyeol x Reader smut )

Author's note: Kindly leave your feedback! If you'd like me to expand this series with other EXO members or maybe a multi-chapter with PCY, lemme know! ❤

You're bored already.

Bored out of your mind.

This is yet another fundraiser gala, one of the countless such functions you have attended. It is all so predictable. Men dressed in custom made tuxedos, women dressed in elaborate ensembles from the latest fashion week collections.

You were bored of it all. The expensive watches, the even more expensive jewellery.

You walked in eight inch Louboutins that felt like razor blades affixed to your heels, dressed in a custom-made Versace gown. The black silk clung to your body like second skin, emphasizing every single curve and dip of your body. Your hair had been coiffed up into a chignon, done by a celebrity hairstylist whose name you had already forgotten.

A flute of champagne in hand, you walked through the crowds, wanting to escape.

Your world was perfect and polished and embellished and organized. Your whole life had been meticulously planned out for you, served to you on a silver platter. But you didn't want any of it.

You didn't want to inherit your father's multi-billion dollar empire. You didn't want to spend the rest of your life attending such tedious, cumbersome events, raising money for this disease or that social cause.

You wanted to write. You wanted to be free. You wanted the world to know of your thoughts. You wanted to express yourself. You wanted to escape. You wanted to run away. You wanted-

The touch of his hand upon your wrist jolted you back to reality. Just the slightest brush of his skin against yours felt like a bolt of lightning.

His voice was a whisper against your ear. "Are you feeling alright, Miss?"

Miss. It was all part of the charade, because your parents were nearby, your mother watching you closely even as she chatted with some Senator's wife.

You had drunk plenty tonight, your mind buzzing from the expensive booze you had downed listlessly. But it didn't slip past you that he was offering you an out. An escape.

With a quick squeeze of his hand you silently told him that you understood. He gently took the half-empty flute of champagne away from your hand as you made your way to your parents, a hint of a smile playing on his full lips.

"Mother," you adopted your best 'I'm not feeling well' voice as you approached your parents. "May I be excused? I'm feeling unwell."

Your mother looked at you with suspicion in her eyes, but didn't say anything when your father excused you from the party, allowing you to leave.

"Take her home, will you, Chanyeol?" your father addressed him, your bodyguard.

"Of course, sir," he replied, the picture of courtesy.

You placed a hand upon his arm, feeling the sinewy muscle beneath the fabric of his suit, letting him guide you away from the gala. To freedom.

"Thank you," you murmur quietly as you make your way to your limo, the November night air chilling your exposed skin as your heels click against the pavement.

"Don't thank me just yet," he says, his voice deep and velvety. Dripping with seduction.

The raw desire dancing in his dark eyes tells you exactly how this night is going to go...

In the car, the partition is drawn up, giving you the privacy you need while the driver takes you home.

It takes you every ounce of your restraint not to make a sound, even when you are in Chanyeol's arms: his lips at your neck, his hand between your legs, two fingers inside you. Knuckle deep.

You pressed your lips to his neck in order to stifle your moans, your manicured fingers clutching at his broad shoulders.

"You've gotta stay quiet for me, princess," he breathed against the shell of your ear. "Can you imagine the scandal if someone found out?"

You nod against him, biting down on your lip, hips grinding down into his hand, letting him touch you.

It felt incredible, the expert curl of his fingers within you, the tips of his digits just barely stroking that spot inside you, making you whimper. Making you wetter with every passing second.

He was teasing you just right, building up the pleasure and the anticipation. It was an unspoken promise...

I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name.

And you wanted it. More than anything.

You wanted to forget.

The moment you were ensconced in the privacy of your bedroom, Chanyeol was upon you.

Wild and untamed.

Between frenzied kisses, he ripped away your dress, revealing the lace thong you wore underneath it.

"Didn't wear a bra, huh?" he asked, reaching out to undo your hair from its updo, freeing your locks.

"This is how I like you," he spoke, his voice sending shivers down your spine, making your toes curl within those infernal heels you were wearing.

He seemed to read your mind. "Keep the heels on, darling," he said, smirking as he pulled down your panties, shoving them into his pocket. A souvenir.

Pushing you down on your bed, he raised your legs and hooked them over his broad shoulders. You noticed that he was still fully dressed and grinned. It was his favourite way of fucking you. Him fully clothed while you were completely naked.

You watched him unbuckle his pants with one hand, his other hand reaching into his pocket for a condom.

"No, baby," you moaned, mind already gone because of the alcohol. And your lust for him. "Fuck me raw. No condom."

He groaned upon hearing your request.

"I want to feel you," you cooed. "All of you."

And when he dove into you, you were lost. He glided in so easily, you were so wet and ready for him.

"Fuck, princess..."

He hadn't drunk a single drop of booze at the gala, but as he fucked into you in quick, precise thrusts, he was intoxicated. Groaning and grunting. Sweat beading on his brow.

"Such a tight little cunt," he spoke, biting down on his lip. "You take my cock so well."

You threw your head back against your bed, crying out in ecstasy. This is what made you feel alive. He made you feel alive.

He took your breath away. He set your heart racing. He made you mindless with pleasure. He set your soul on fire.

Your first orgasm came upon you quickly, and he clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

When you came to, he was still hard as a rock, throbbing within you, your walls fluttering around his girth.

Pulling out of you, he flipped you over onto your front.

Rough hands grasped at your hips and he pulled you up, ass in the air.

Using whatever energy you had left in you, you raised your head, turning back to look at him.

Chanyeol cupped your ass in his palms, parting your cheeks before leaning close. He spat, sending a trickle of his saliva down between your cheeks, a hand coming between your legs to massage it into your swollen folds.

"Mmmm..." you moaned. "Yes. Dirty me up like that..."

He chuckled.

After all these months of these secret trysts,  Chanyeol had learned your body. He knew exactly what you wanted, how you wanted it.

Lining his cock with your cunt, he rubbed the tip against your folds. "Daddy's little girl is such a slut for me, huh?"

You tossed your hair over your shoulder to look him in the eye. "You're my Daddy now..."

He sank back into you, his fingers digging into your hips and you welcomed him with a shuddering gasp of his name, eyes falling shut.

Chanyeol knew exactly how to unravel you, how to bring you apart. Piece by piece. By now, he knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew you like you were an extension of himself.

One strong arm came to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, your back flush against his clothed chest, your sweat and slick staining his suit.

"You're mine, princess," he groaned into your ear, his free hand hefting your hair into a makeshift ponytail around his wrist, tugging your head back.

He was fucking you like you belonged to him.

Like he owned you.

"Yes," you moaned, biting your bottom lip. "I'm yours. I'm yours. I'm all yours..."

You knew you weren't going to last long under the heat of his passion. And neither was he, considering how he was panting and cursing under his breath, his mouth brushing against the corner of yours, your cheek against his.

Reaching back, you curled your hand into his hair. "Come inside me, Chanyeollie. I want you to fill me up."

"Fuck, babygirl..."

"I'm yours, baby," you cooed. "All yours. Just come inside me. I want to feel you. I-"

You could never finished your sentence as your orgasm claimed you suddenly, your words dissolving into a loud moan.

The steady clenching of your cunt around his cock only spurred on his own release and granting you your wish, he came inside you. Long, hot spills of his seed filled you up. Just like you'd wanted it.

"Such a spoilt little girl," he groaned, grasping your chin and turning your face to his. "Always gets what she wants..."

You chuckled, feeling truly happy and content, as you kissed him deeply.

He always made you happy.