#[ since when are ORIGINAL lines bad? I WANT the original shit ]

[spiderwarden]

while i'm on my bullshit, I want to extend a special 'fuck you' to whoever it was on the Larian team that made the companions nicer and propped one up over the others. Give me Bitch!Shadowheart back, I want Sassy!OG!Wyll, where is MEANER Lae'zel, put Astarion back in the pod I don't like his 'knife to the throat' introduction, Give Minthara's extra scenes and snipped dialogue back - remember she had TWO sex scenes. WHY are we treating the ORIGINAL script like its some sort of taboo thing that needs to be repulsed.

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[femmeroi]

kill yourself faggot

Our relationship is rough right now, but in a few episodes we will be married.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

The Meetup

《Part 2 for Next Caller

《Pairings:College!Eddie Munson x shyfem!reader

《Summary: After your call with Eddie, you can't get him off your mind. You promised yourself to let your fears go and finally speak with him in person. Some things don't go as originally planned because Eddie just so happens to walk into your coffee shop.

《Warnings:fluff,smut. 90s!Eddie, a little tiny bit of dry humping, oral ( female & male receiving) dirty talk, pet names (good girl, sweetheart) phone sex, masturbation (male). Sex toys (fleshlight)

Word count: 7.7k

A/n: Please reblog like and leave a comment to show support. Not proofread ignore any mistakes you come across.

Disclaimer: Please read part one linked at the top to understand the rest of the story.

Mini series masterlist

18+ minors dni

Almost a few days after the stunt, you pulled on the radio with Eddie it didn't take long before word got around on campus. It's all anyone could talk about they wanted to know who the mystery caller was, and Eddie seemed to be cornered more so than usual. As people surrounded him, he wished maybe one of them were you. Hiding amongst the crowd of people.

Anytime a woman called in, his assistant would jump out his skin. He knew he should have shut it down the moment it started, but he trusted Eddie. Now, anytime the phone rings, he instantly goes into a frenzied panic. Eddie just laughs at how over dramatic he was being. He knew if someone called in trying to pull the same stunt as you did, he'd turn them away. He's not gonna tell his assistant that, though. He likes how jumpy and absolutely horrified he gets when there is a female voice on the other end of the line.

You still listened in every show since that night. Almost every time someone called in, they would either want to do what you did or want to talk about you. One thing that pretty much kinda bothered you were some of the girls calling and pretending to be you. Sometimes, you felt like it was bait, and someone was just trying to get the real "Miss caller" to give away her true identity. Much like how tonight was going, if you were tired of it, you can only imagine how he must feel.

"Yeah hi its me calling you back." An unfamiliar female voice spoke.

"Nice try, you don't really sound anything like her, buh-bye." His voice etched with annoyance as he hung up on the fifth woman of the night.

"Anyone want to call in and talk about I' dunno sports?" He sounded absolutely over it.

"I'm fucking desperate over here."

He emitted a long sigh into the mic. "Can someone call in with an embarrassing or some shit?"

You begin to drown out the sound of him talking as he tries to move along the segment.

You felt bad you truly did for what was happening to him now. You don't regret choosing him to help you, but you wish the circumstances were a little different. You hope he didn't hate you for this. You don't think you could live with yourself if he did.

Eddie on the other hand couldn't get you off his mind. You infested it, and no matter how hard he tried to think of over things, you creeped your way back in. He dreamt of you, and every dream was the same. He could hear you speaking to him, but right when he got close enough to reveal who you were, he'd wake up.

He got absolutely chewed out by his boss that following day. His show was close to being taken off the air, but once they saw how much buzz it was getting, they decided against it. He was on thin ice, though, when it came to how raunchy his segment was allowed to get. The conversation made local news in your town, which created more concerns for you.

The thought of someone figuring out how to trace your call back to your home terrified you to no end. Could they even do something like that? You don't know and definitely don't want to find out. Eddie did make a promise to keep you anonymous, but that didn't mean everyone else who worked there did. You try to push the paranoia to the back of your mind and just put all of your focus on school and work. This whole situation should blow over shortly you hoped.

Even with all of the chaos at your campus right now, that still didn't persuade from wanting to go see him play Thursday. Which was perfect timing since your roommate was going out of town that same day. Leaving you to an empty home all to by yourself. Who knows, maybe you'd get lucky and take him home. It was wishful thinking on your part, but still, it could happen.

Little did you know you didn't need to wait that long to see him after all. As you just rang up a customer's coffee order, he was next in line. He was too preoccupied looking at all the coffee options on the menu to see he's the next one to in line. You cleared your throat to get his attention and he looked right at you.

Your heart felt like it was in your throat when his eyes met yours. He looked very good today, making it much harder for you to focus. He had his hair pulled back and wore a oversized black corduroy button-up shirt with black ripped jeans. He gave an apologetic smile for holding you up.

"Uhhh, sorry, I really don't know what this shit means." He laughs, pointing back to the menu above.

Your mouth goes dry, and you try to play it cool.

"Well, what kind of coffee do you usually like?" You asked, trying to forget about who's standing before you. He's just some guy you kept reminding yourself.

He pressed his lips in a thin line, "Well, i usually don't drink coffee. if I did, I guess I wouldn't want it to taste like ass."

"So whatever you suggest."

You giggle and smile, turning to look at the menu as well. "I'd suggest maybe a vanilla latte. It's pretty basic."

"I'll take whatever you tell me to." He holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm putting all my faith in you."

"Wait a minute, are you implying im basic?" His mouth agape throwing a ringed hand over his heart pretending to be offended.

He was toying with you hoping to get you to laugh but instead you panicked.

Swallowing hard." N-no...its just a pretty standard drink to order."

"Hey, it's cool. I'm messing around." He reassured.

"Oh..um okay well then."

You try to regain your composure as your face begins to tingle.

"Okay, and what size? Small, medium, or large? " You asked him, trying to hide the fact that you're rapidly about to lose your mind.

"Oh, I need a large."

You nodded, putting in his order and ringing him up. He stands there a moment too long, and it's making you a little nervous. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Your eyes grow wide, and you quickly turn to look away.

"Nope." You shook your head.

"You sure? You seem so familiar to me." He bends down on his elbows leaning on the counter. He's trying to examine your face to remember where he knows you from.

"We may have a had a class together at some point." You shrug.

"I mean yeah--but I don't know there is something else." He continued staring while you ran around behind the counter, putting away fresh croissant.

The longer it took for his latte to be finished, the more anxious you got. He wouldn't stop looking at you. You wanted to tell him it's rude to stare, but you don't. He kept trying to make small talk with you, which didn't help your nerves at all. You kept stumbling over your words or clearing your throat because it was getting dry.

You took a breath of fresh air when they finally called his order number. He took his coffee and waited around until you came back. "So, uhh, I don't know if this weird, but you wouldn't be apposed to going on a date with me?"

You blinked twice trying to figure out if you just heard him correctly.

"Come again?" You ask in disbelief.

"Oh, well, I was wondering if I could take you on a date?" He repeated as a small blush creeped along his cheeks.

"Yeah, sure. I mean, I'd love to." You tried to keep your cool, but on the inside, you were jumping for joy.

His smile grows ten times wider when he hears you accept his date. "Great, write down your address and phone number so we can keep in contact."

You nodded and ran to grab a pin and paper, giving him all of the information he needed. He also wrote down his number to give to you as well, just in case you needed to get in touch before your date.

"Cool, how's Friday sound?" He asks, taking the piece of paper you handed him. "Friday sounds great, actually."

"My names Eddie, by the way." He added motioning to himself.

He smiled again, taking a sip of coffee as he began heading for the door. He turns to look at you one last time before leaving. "I'll see you Friday, pretty girl."

"Thanks a latte." He joked, holding up his cup before finally exiting the coffee shop. His face scrunched up with embarrassment as he turned to leave. Why the fuck did I just say that? He thought to himself as he practically chugged down his drink, heading to his first lecture of the day.

You're standing still behind the counter, frozen in place. Did that really just happen? That fast? You started to think someone was pulling a prank on you. Maybe everyone did find out you were the caller and decided to mess with around. No, Eddie doesn't seem like the type of guy who would do something like that, you thought. You just couldn't get over how easy that was, a little too easy.

The week went by way too fast for you, and the closer it got to your date, the more anxious you became. You wanted to tell him so badly it was you who called. Would he even still like you after that? He seemed just as eager to meet you as you wanted to meet him. Doesn't really matter now. You'd tell him eventually anyway. Especially if this date goes well.

You didn't see or hear from him too much during the days leading up to Friday. You figured he was very busy since he still was doing his show on the radio and playing with his band. On top of attending classes, he seemed like he didn't have much free time. Which is why you didn't cancel on him like you were probably going to. After you thought about it for a while, you realized he definitely was making the time to take you out.

Eddie called you a few times to check in and see if you were still willing to go out with him. He'd make small talk to ask how you were and if your classes were going well. He'd crack a joke or two, making you laugh easing your mind of any self doubt you had before.

Now that it was officially Friday evening, you quickly left work early to go home and get ready. He said he'd be come by eight o'clock to pick you up, giving you a few hours to decide what to wear. You searched through each article of clothing hating every single piece. You know deep down he doesn't care about what clothes you're wearing. He asked you out while you were in your work attire. With your coffee stained apron and dumb hat.

Still, you wanted to look nice for him, and you don't get out much as it is. So you opted for just a simple black dress. Dowsing yourself in a sweet perfume and putting on a pair of heels. You pray you don't end up falling and busting your ass in front of him tonight. You were shaved, plucked, and smelt of vanilla and spice.

You were just putting the last touches to your makeup on when you heard a knock at your front door. You did a last mirror check, making sure everything looked well put together. You take a long, deep breath and exhale before you go to open up for him.

When you opened the door to greet him, he was standing there with one hand in his pocket. While the other is holding a bouquet of flowers. He wore a black pullover sweater with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, revealing his tattooed arms. His dark curly hair loose around his shoulders, and he smelled like mint and tobacco. His smile widened when he saw you for the first time since your last meeting. His dimples on full display, and you couldn't help but melt a little. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks. You don't look too bad, either." You smile, stepping out to stand closer to him. "Nah, I just wanted to impress you."

He blushes, and this is the second time you've seen him do that. He gave a boyish smile and handed you the bouquet of flowers he picked. "These are for you, sweetheart."

"Thank you." You reached out to accept the flowers. "They're beautiful."

There is a moment where you both don't say a word and just stand there gazing at one another.

Eddie cleared his throat. "Shall we?"

You nodded, closing the door behind you and making your way to his van. He walked next to you with a hand on the small of your back. He moved past you quickly to open the door and help you get into the passenger seat. Eddie made his way to the driver side and hopped in no longer after you.

The drive to the restaurant was fairly quiet except for the music playing on Eddie's radio. He humed along, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat. You both steal glances here and there when the other isn't looking. Your heart beating a mile a minute.

Eddie seemed calm and collected, but on the inside, he felt just the same. Usually, he was pretty confident around women, but there was something about you that made his heart skip a beat. He doesn't know what it is that pulled him in so quickly. He's not complaining one bit either.

You finally see the restaurant up a head and sigh in relief. He pulled up and parked in the front. He made you wait there while he jumped out of the driver side to jog over to help open up your door. You took his hand and carefully got out while trying not to flash anyone in the process. You wish the dress you finally decided on wasn't so short.

You make your way inside where a hostess greets you both and guides you to a table in the far back. You sit across from one another while she handed you a menu to look over. A waitress soon comes by to ask what drinks you'd like, and you both settle on a Dr pepper.

She returned not too much longer to take your orders and set down your drinks. You and him seemed to be in sync tonight since the both of you ordered a burger with onion rings on the side. Once she took your order, she left, leaving you alone together again.

"So I'm gonna ask a boring question and say what do you enjoy doing for fun?" He playfully asked, taking a sip of his soda.

"Uh, well, I haven't been having much fun lately with work and school taking up my time." You confessed feeling a little embarrassed you don't live an exciting life you imagined he did.

"You don't hang out with friends or go out?" His brows furrowed.

You play around with a piece of paper on the table, avoiding his gaze. "Uh, well, I don't have that many friends here."

"I mostly just keep to myself and stay home a lot." You continued on.

He frowns. "Boyfriends?"

You shake your head, trying not to even think about any of your exes at a time like this.

"You know what? I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask about boyfriends while in the middle of a date." He gave an apologetic smile.

"Hope he doesn't mind sharing you for the night, though." He winked, making you laugh.

He seems to enjoy making you laugh when he notices you're uncomfortable or getting shy.

The waitress finally arrived back with your food, and you didn't hesitate to start eating immediately. He watched you with amusement and started eating right behind you. The longer you both talked, the more relaxed you became.

You were already familiar with him and found a form of comfort when listening to his show. But being alone with him felt different. You never thought this moment would come. You almost wanted to cry, thinking it was just some elaborate dream that you'd soon wake up from. The date was going amazing so far, and you never wanted it to end.

"So, um, how's your show going?" You ask him, not wanting to seem like he was the only one asking the questions.

"It's good..well actually I'm in some trouble, but they'll live. More people are listening in now, so I think the money will shut them up." He openly admited, shoving an onion ring in his mouth.

You raise an eyebrow "in trouble for what?"

You already knew but wanted to hear him say. You kept wondering what he thought about that phone call. Even if it might hurt your feelings, you were dying to know. Your curiosity always got the best of you.

He shakes his head. "Maybe I'll talk about it on our second date."

You giggle, finishing off the last bit of your dinner. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"Well, I play DnD when I have extra free time, I play with my band at the bar by campus." He frowned a little at the mention of his band.

"Sadly, we probably won't be playing much together here very soon." He adds.

Changing the subject quickly, not wanting to bring the mood down. "Girlfriends?"

"No girlfriends."

He eyed you up and down, grinning wide poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek. You swear you could see a little twinkle in his eye.

He leans forward, getting awfully close. " You almost ready to go?"

"Um sure, yeah." You respond a little sadly, not wanting the night to end so soon. He waves for the waitress to bring over the bill. Once he was done paying, you both got back in his vans.

The van ride back to your place wasn't as awkward as before, but there was something electric in the air. There is too much tension between the two of you. It felt like the silence was lingering until one of you decided to make the first move.

He pulls up in front of your home and helps you step out of the passenger side. Both of you walking up to your front door, not speaking. This was your chance to invite him in. You thought to yourself. "I had fun tonight."

"Yeah, me too." He smiled, putting his hands back in pockets.

You look up at him and whisper. " Do you want to come in?"

He paused for a moment, hoping he heard you correctly before answering. "Yeah, I'd love to come in."

You unlock the front door and take his hand, pulling him inside and guiding him to your bedroom.

The moment he was finally in his lips, crashed onto yours in a heated kiss. The kiss was sloppy and passionate as your tongues fought for dominance. Your lipstick smears on his mouth. He breaks away to move down your jaw and nip at your neck right under your ear. He nibbled and sucked at your tender skin, causing your knees to buckle. You grabbed onto his biceps, holding on tightly to keep your balance.

He stops to look at you in your eyes. "You wanna get undressed for me?"

You swallowed hard and nodded.

"Words, pretty girl." His voice is low and husky.

"Yes." You panted.

Eddie reaches around to unzip the back of your dress, letting it pool around your feet. He squates down his face mere inches from your heat. He looks up at you through his long lashes. He kisses your tummy right above the waistband of your panties before reaching to grab your ankle. He brought it forward to unclasp your heel. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, steadying yourself. He tosses the shoe to the side before moving to the next one and doing the same.

He stands up, reaching around your back again, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall to the floor, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air of your bedroom. You watch him as he takes his shirt off, exposing his bare chest to you. You notice tattoos you've never seen before. One of a faded demon on his peck and a black widow right under his clavicle. "Be a good girl and lay back on the bed."

You hesitate for a moment as your mind is already feeling hazy. You turned to slowly make your way up the bed, laying back against your pillows. You watch as he took his boots off and unbuckeld his jeans, letting them hang low on his hips. He seductively crawls his way up until he is hovering above you.

You push on his chest. "Umm....I don't think it's a good idea if we have sex."

He sit back on his knees. "Want me to leave?"

"No, we can do other stuff. I'm just not ready to do that." You confessed.

"Hey, we don't have to do anything you don't want to." He reassured you, bringing a hand to gently cup your cheek.

You let out a shakey breath, feeling a little more comfortable . You were worried he would be mad at you, but he wasn't.

"If you don't like anything I'm doing, don't be afraid to tell me,okay?" He's being sincere, you can tell. He wanted you to feel safe with him.

You nodded again. "Okay, i will."

"Good." He smiled and leaned down to give you another kiss to your lips.

He brought his hips against yours grinding his hard cock against your core. You moan in his mouth when his cock applies pressure to your clit over your panties. He pushes against you harder, causing him to grunt. He moved to lay by your side, pressing his front right up against you. His fingers dance and play with the waistband of your panties. You can feel his prominent buldge pressing against your outer thigh. His calloused fingers slowly slips past the delicate lace. You can feel him brushing past your clit. He carefully glides his middle finger in between your wet fold, collecting your slick on his finger. Ignoring your aching bud in the process.

"Fuck you're so wet." He murmured against your mouth.

He pushes one finger inside your entrance, pumping it agonizingly slow. Your head falls back, giving him the perfect opportunity to attack your neck. He nips and sucks on the skin by your ear. Biting, licking, and sucking while his finger is knuckle deep in your pussy. He adds another stretching you open around his thick fingers. His thumb pressing firmly on your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out gasp.

"Think of my cock pretty girl." He whispered curving his fingers upward.

"Mmm!, s-so good." You whimper.

That's all you could respond with your mind completely gone. All you could do was focus on how he seemed determined to make you feel good. You feel him smile against your neck when where his lips were leaving feather like kisses all over. You clench around him as his fingers start working on that sweet spot on your walls.

"F-fuck." You let out a strangled moan bucking your hips.

He grinds his cock against your thigh. "Feel that?"

"Feel how hard I am for you?"

You look up at him with big doe eyes."y-yes I can feel you."

His picks up the pace, his fingers plunging in and out, making your head spin. Your pussy wet and loud taking his middle and ring finger. The tightness in your core building with each pump of fingers. Your moans getting more pornographic. His warm breath on your neck making you squirm.

"You're such a messy girl. My hand is getting soaked." He purrs in your ear.

He ruts harder against your thigh, violently rocking your bed.

"Can I taste you?" He rasped.

You let out groan. "Please"

You swallow hard as your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. You're already breathless. A small frown forms on your face when you feel his thick fingers leaving from inside of you.

"Ah ah, no pouting." He wiggled his index finger at you playfully.

No one has ever done this to you before. None of your exes cared about your pleasure they only wanted to get themselves off and then leave you to handle the rest. Eddie was the first man to help you cum and now he's going to be the first man to taste you. All of your ex boyfriends were selfish lovers. Which brought on so many insecurities you've been working hard to overcome. There was a part of you that didn't want him to keep going, but there was another part that was telling you to let go and enjoy it.

He gave you one last deep kiss on your lips before moving and kissing his way down right above your sex. He looked up at you again, and his pupils were blown out with lust. He never breaks eye contact as he slowly drags your panties down your legs. He sits up higher for a moment, admiring your naked body spread out before him. You went to close your legs, but he stopped you. "Let me see you."

Thats all you needed to hear before spreading them wider for him.

He cursed under his breath, closing his eyes, trying not to attack the moment you show yourself to him. "I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."

He dips down again, his face so close to your pussy now. He hums in approval when he sees how soaked you are for him. Your slick dripping down to the curve of your ass. He kisses the inside of your thighs, testing to see how much you can take before you're begging him for more. It doesn't take long before you're already impatient. He nips and sucks at the soft skin, making you buck up against his face. His nose nudging your throbbing clit.

"Patience, sweetheart." He laughed.

You buck up again, wanting desperately wanting his mouth.

Without warning, you feel his warm tongue licking a long strip between your wet folds. You sucked in a breath, never having felt something like this before. "OOh!,Eddie." You mewled

He pulls you down hard against his face, grunting against you. He sucks and laps at your folds, letting your slick cover his face. You grind against his mouth, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your legs go to squeeze around his head, but his strong hands hold them in place. He takes his tongue to flick across your clit making you wriggle. His mouth attaches to your sensitive bud, and he sucks on it softly. You went to push his head away as the sensation is too much. He removed his mouth, checking see to see if you're okay. "You okay?"

"Why'd you stop?" You whined.

He smiled before reattaching his plump lips to your clit slurping and flicking his tongue over it. He watches as you writhe above him. His eyes never left you as he almost seemed mesmerized by the sight before him. You've never felt this desired by anyone before. Your hips bucking as you grind on his face as he begins sucking harder on your aching clit.

You grip the blankets beneath you. "i-im getting close."

His removes a hand from one of your thighs and carefully pushes one finger inside your entrance. You grab and pull on his hair, making him grunt against you. He adds another finger, curving them upwards to stroke that sweet spot on your walls.

Removing his mouth for a moment "Yeah is my good girl gonna cum?" He asked quickly reattaching his lips to your sore clit. Your backing arching off the bed as you pull on his hair some more.

Your walls pulsating around him as his fingers pump in out of you fast. His mouth sucking on your clit harshly as his fingers plunge deep inside your pussy. The wet noises his mouth is making as his tastes you, mixed with the squelching of your pussy fill the room.

He's lapping away at you, getting lost in your taste, driving you absolutely wild.

"Mmphf! Don't stop." You begged him.

You feel that all too familiar tightness building again, and you clench around his fingers. Your legs are twitcing and trembling. You're breathing harder than before. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm washes over you fast, leaving your body to shake. Eddies mouth never letting go of your clit. While his skilled fingers work on your pussy helping you ride out your orgasm.

He removes his mouth and fingers from you tenderly, not wanting to hurt you in any kind of way. His face glistening with your slick and his lips look swollen. He moves to lay next to you on your bed. You're slowly coming down from your high. Your breathing evening out as you come to. You both lay there in silence for a few minutes.

"Can I taste you now?" Your voice sounding small as you asked.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

"Yeah, you can taste me." He whispers back.

Moving to sit back between his legs, you reached to take off his pants off. He helped you by wiggling them down his legs and discarding them to the floor. You notice how painfully hard he is in his boxers, and you lick your lips. Hooking your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. His his cock spring free hitting his belly button. The head an angry red leaking precum down his shaft. He hisses when the cool air hits sensitive his tip. Your eyes widened at the size of him. You now know he was telling the truth. He was big, and you don't know how you're gonna be able to fit all of him in your mouth.

He grabs it, giving it a few light strokes eagerly waiting for your mouth. Precum still dripping alongside it, getting on his hand.

"Don't be shy." His voice low and deep just like how he spoke to you that night on the radio. "I hope you'll let me be inside you one day."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? He bites his lip, waiting for your response.

"Yes." Your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyebrows raise, and a cocky grin spreads across his face. "You felt so tight taking my fingers. I can only imagine how you must feel when I'm spreading you open."

"Just thinking about you taking my cock. The little noises you'd make as you're begging for more."

He presses his thumb on the leaking slit his mouth forming an O shape at the pressure. The veins along his shaft are prominent from the amount of blood rushing to his cock.

"Making you cry because it feels so good." He's breathing heavier while eyeing you in front of him. He wants to get you worked up until you can't take it anymore. Teasing was his favorite part before anything. He didnt even have to touch anyone before he had them begging to be fucked in some type of way.

He kept going on. The way he was speaking to you brought you right back to the night you called him. You squeeze your thighs tightly together, desperate for any small amount of friction.

"Gonna think about that tight pussy when I'm cuming down your throat." His voice deep and seductive. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Hes thinking about all the ways he'd fuck you. Imagining what your pretty tits would look like with his cum is dripping down them. Filling you up with his cum and watching it dripping out after removing his cock.

Watching him stroke his cock as he thinks about fucking you makes your pussy flutter. You wonder what he must feel like. The feeling of him stretching you open. You're getting tired of him taunting you. You needed to taste him now.

You smacked his hand away, replacing it with your own, giving it a few more light strokes. You move your thumb to press down on his tip. He grunts and bangs his head back against your headboard. You bend down to give the head of his cock a quick peck. You remove your hand and spit into it as you grasp his thick shaft, rubbing it up and down lazily. His mouth hangs open as relaxes and enjoys what you're doing.

Moving your mouth closer, you kitten licked at his tip, tasting his precum. His thrusts his hips as you continue teasing him like he did to you earlier. You take the opportunity to pull away and spit directly on his cock earning you low groan deep from his chest. You begin to suck on the head of cock. Using your spit mixed with his precum as a lubricant to continue stroking his hard length with your hand.

Gliding your mouth down his length until he's hitting the back of your throat, making you gag a little. You removed your hand, resting them on his thighs. You try relaxing your throat while taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. He wasn't even all the way in, and he's already has you gagging. Tears leaking from your eyes smudging your mascara.

"Oh! fuck!, c-careful, sweetheart." He coaxed you.

Drool spilling down your chin as you try to take more of him in your throat. You attempt to keep him back there and focus on breathing from your nose. Sucking lightly on him, you pull him all the way out and swirl your tongue around his tip. "Hmm! your mouth feels so fucking good."

Your tongue wet and warm teasing the head of his cock. Eddie does everything in his power to not push you back down on his length.

He breathed heavily. "Shit! I-I not gonna last if you keep doing that."

Removing his cock from your mouth, creating a loud pop in his absence.

"you like it when I tease your cock eddie?"You asked in a sultry voice.

You wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Look who's not so shy afterall." He taunted you

You don't know what has come over you suddenly, but having him here in your bed tonight gave you a boost of confidence you never knew you had.

Putting the head of his cock to your mouth sucking it firmly almost forcing him to answer. "Y-yeah I like...I like the way you're teasing me."

You slip his length back down as far he could go in your throat, swallowing around him.

Hearing him like that only spurred you on more. Sucking his cock a little harder than before. Your head bobbing up and down faster. Your other hand moves to cup his balls, and he jerks at the feeling. The sensation of you massaging his balls and your mouth working on his cock practically sends him into a coma of bliss. His abs flexing and his toes curl. His entire body glistened with sweat. "Shit i-im gonna fuck... I'm gonna cum."

"You're gonna make me cum." He panted above you.

With a few more pumps of your hand and mouth sucking harder on his length. You feel his cock twitch and he's shooting his cum deep down your throat. Some spilling out and leaked from the corners of your mouth. He moans out loud and holds your head down until he's finished. You tried to swallow as much of him as you could take. Your mouth not leaving until you're collecting every bit. " S-sweetheart, please."

You let him go with a long string of saliva connecting you to his cock, his cum dripping down your chin. You collect it on your fingertips, bringing it to your mouth, not wanting to waste a drop. Sucking your fingers clean enjoying the salty taste of his cum.

He goes limp as he comes down from his high. His eyes glossed over watching your every move as you lick his cum from your fingers.

You moved to lay back next to him as you wait to see if he will soon leave. His chest rose and fell calmly now, but his head was still foggy. You don't want him to go, but you understand if he does.

"Thank you for tonight" you turn to smile weakly at him.

"No problem." He snorted.

There is a long, drawn-out pause, and you decided it time to tell him your secret.

"Um, I have something to confess to you." You're nervous, and he can tell.

He sit up straight and looks over at you, concern etched on his face. "Yeah? "

"Well, umm, I was the one who called you that night.....on your show." You confessed, looking down, playing with your thumbs.

He blinked, taking in what you just said. Not really sure if he heard you right or if he's still a little dazed.

"Are-- are you serious? " He sounded a little harsh, but he didn't intend to. That night was all he could think about since it happened. You were all he could think about. He lost hours and hours of sleep coming up with different possible scenarios on how he would find you. Who you could possibly be.

"Yeah. Are you mad?" You look over at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

His face softens immediately when he notices. "Are you kidding?"

"I've been thinking about you ever since." He sprang up on his knees with excitement scooting closer to you.

You wipe at your eyes and laugh when he takes your hands into his. The fear that was building up moments ago slowly fading away."Really?"

"Oh, you're definitely not getting rid of me now." He exclaimed.

"So, do you maybe want to go out again?" You shyly asked.

"Fuck yeah I do!" He celebrated clapping his his hands together.

You laughed at his excitement. Making you feel so much better now that you got that off your chest. No one has ever made you feel like this before. You felt like you've known him forever even though you just met in person. "Can I call you... like all the time?"

"Yes, absolutely you can." You giggle.

"Hope you don't mind late night ramblings and bad puns," He advised.

"I love bad puns."

He laid back down next, throwing an arm around you. The both of you stayed like that for the rest of the night. Staying up for hours laughing and telling each other stories about your life. You wish you and him didn't have to ever leave this bed.

Another couple of days have passed, and you really haven't heard much again from him since your date. You were starting to think he was just saying all of that stuff because he thought it was something you wanted to hear. You tried not to think like that and just chalked it up to him being extremely busy because he was.

He did talk about you a little bit on his show but never mentioned you were also the mystery caller everyone has been gossiping about. You listened in biting at your nails when he talked about going on a date with a cutie from the coffee shop across from campus.

Eddie never once talked about hooking up with you, and you're grateful for that. He didn't use your date as a way to have another story for his show. He genuinely wanted to take you out and have a nice time. He didn't hook up for a new story to keep his segment interesting. Most of the girls he was with actually asked him to talk about it. Otherwise, he never would have done it to begin with.

You sat on your bed feet dangling over the side, contemplating if you should just bite the bullet and call first. You don't wanna seem desperate, but you also really want to see him again. He agreed to go on another date with you. Since you haven't heard much else from him, you don't want to come off pushy.

Maybe you should call first? Let him know you're equally as interested in him.

You snatch up the phone and the little piece of paper he gave with his number on it. Putting in the digits and waiting for the dial tone to start ringing. You felt like you were waiting forever, but it's only been a few seconds. You were almost ready to hang up and pretend this never happened until you heard him answer.

"H-hello?" He panted into the phone.

He sounded like he was currently in the middle of something. What that something is you don't know yet.

"Hi, it's me....just wanted to call and check in with you." You spoke softly in the other end.

"Y-yeah, uhh, I'm doing good." He stumbled over his words.

He sounded out of breath, and now you're really hoping you didn't interrupt him. Especially if he has company at his place. The thought of that makes you feel a little sick. You're not dating him and barely even know him. You shouldn't feel this way even if he did have someone over. "I can let you go. You seem a little busy."

"Wait, don't hang up!" He exclaimed.

He ponders for a moment on how he can keep you on the other line.

"Wanna help me...with... something? " he asked with a nervous laugh.

You swallow hard before answering. "What do you need?"

You hear him curse under his breath in your ear. Low grunts can be heard, and it doesn't take long before you can figure out what's going on.

"W--wanna talk to you while I fuck this toy." He breathed heavy.

You go to lay back on your bed playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. You know what he wants you to do. Since he helped you out, you might as well do the same for him. It's only fair, right? The last time you did this, hundreds of people were listening. This time, it's just the two of you. Making the situation more intimate, but it also helps take the edge off.

Eddie was currently balls deep in his fleshlight when you called. He just got out of the shower hair still wet and sticking to his body. All day long, he kept thinking about you. He's been painfully hard and wanted to see if he could come over to your place again but didn't want to be so forward. He didn't want you to think he was using you to get off. He really really liked you and hoped there could be something more between the two of you. So he was going to do what he normally would and take of it himself. That was until you called him, and it sparked a little idea in his brain.

He was leaning back against a wall with one hand on a chair next to him, trying to keep his balance upright. Lube was all over his toy, leaking out onto the soft curls between his legs and balls. He glided the toy up and down his length at a steady pace trying not to cum so soon already. His mind races with vivid thoughts of you.

"What do you think about when you do that?" Your voice coming out so small in his ear.

He smiles to himself. "Well I--was thinking about you."

"Like, what exactly?" You played innocent.

Eddie knows what game you're playing, and he has no problem going along with it. He pulls his cock almost all the way out of the toy only to slam it back down hard causing him to groan loud. His legs almost giving out from under him. He pulled out the chair next to him and plopped down.

Biting his lip to stifle another moan.

"Thinkin' about you squeezing around me." He breathed heavily in your ear. "Wishing this was your pussy instead of some..F-fucking toy."

Sinking his cock back inside making a loud schlick noise you can faintly hear in the phone. Pumping his cock while his other hand runs along his abdomen. He's trying to balance the phone between his shoulder and cheek praying he doesnt drop it. His face and chest flushed a crimson red. He lets out a loud moan when he thrusts upward. "Ooh! Shit!"

"Did I feel good?" You purred into the phone.

"God yes--- so fucking tight. the way you hugged my fingers when i was knuckle deep inside you."

You squeeze your thighs together involuntarily, and you can feel a wetness pool in between your legs. You bite down on your lip hard listening as he fucks himself while talking about you. You want to touch yourself so badly. Your nipples hardening under the sheer thin material of your tank top.

Pumping his cock faster in the toy, lube splashing all over his pelvis and wrist dripping down onto the of floor. He's making a total mess and he doesn't care. He thinks about how messy he could make you.

You interrupt him from his thoughts

"What do you wanna do to me?" You whisper.

"Fuuuck, I wanna do the nastiest things to you." His voice ragged.

Moving the toy up and down his cock as he spoke in the phone, trying to keep It balanced as best he could.

He lets out whimper, "Wanna fill you up with my cum and clean it out of you with my tongue."

"W-wanna..fuuuck...wanna cum all over those pretty tits." He's panting and grunting louder in your ear.

....."Yeah?" You cooed.

"Make you cum in all sorts of ways you never even imagined you could."

He legs kick up, and his stomach tightens. He was getting close but didn't want this to end, not yet.

You're still lying in bed, looking up at your ceiling. You never thought you'd have this burst of confidence yet again, but it's different with him. You don't feel ashamed of anything. The way he's coming undone just by talking to you only made you never want to stop. You felt empowered.

There is a throbbing ache between your legs that you desperately want to take care of. You try to ignore it and put all of your focus on him. You wiggle around clenching up. Doing anything to ease that ache.

"Tell me what you think about you when you touch yourself." He breathed.

"You think of me?"

"Yeah," you muttered quietly.

"So tell me." He commanded gently.

You stammered. "I um, I think about what you would feel like inside me."

"Oh yeah?" His voice getting low.

Goosebumps prickle all over your skin when he does that voice. You squirm in your bed just thinking about that night he used it when he helped you cum over the phone. It was domineering and seductive.

"Mmhm, you're so big." You whimper.

"I don't think I could fit all of you."

"Fuuuck." He groans

"You wanna feel my cock struggling to stretch you open? Is that it?"

You whined into the phone. "Yes, I need it so bad Eddie."

His cock steadily plunging in out of his toy in a brutal pace. He's getting closer to his release, and the phone drops with a loud thud in your ear. His other hand moving to cup his balls mimicking how you massaged them. His hips thrusting up and all you can hear is the squelching sound his cock is making in the toy.

"Oooh shit!" He groaned louder. With a few more strokes and he's spilling his cum inside the toy. Still pumping his length, milking himself of every drop. His cum spilling out and coating his balls. He lays there in the chair, head falling back before realizing he dropped the phone. His head all foggy, and his vision is blury.

He went to get up, but his legs gave out, and he fell back down.

"Shit"

"Fuck"

You heard him cursing from afar. You laughed to yourself, knowing he probably had fallen down.

"Hang on!" He called out

He leans over and reaches out far to snatch up the phone off the floor. His breathing is ragged when he goes to talk. "I've never came that hard in my life."

Smacking a hand on his belly he changes the subject.

"Okay, so what were you originally calling me about? " He asked still panting in the phone.

"Umm, well, I wanted to see if you were still up for going out again....Maybe?" You closed your eyes, waiting for his response.

"Yeah, actually, you know my band is playing Wednesday. Why don't you come see us." He said matter of factly. Like you didn't just help him jerk off on the other line.

You don't understand how one minute he can say some of the most dirtiest things to you and the next be totally nonchalant. All you want to do now is hang up and take care of the ache between your legs.

"I'd love to!" You accept his offer excitement etched in your tone.

He lets out a laugh. "Great, it's a date."

Before you both go to hang up, he stops you.

..."Oh, and thank you for helping me this time." His tone sultry.

Your eyebrows shot up, and you gulp. "No problem--it was fun."

"Goodnight, Eddie." You said sweetly.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

You both stay on the line, neither one wanting to be the first to hang up. Eventually, you had to hang up first since it seemed like he wasn't going to be the one to do it. You roll over on your side, trying to relax and ready yourself for sleep. Your mind racing with excitement that you're finally going to see him play.

Maybe after your date, Eddie can take you back to his place this time. The ache between your legs was not subsiding. You needed him, and after your date, you decided it was time to have him.

[moncharrow]

giving loser!ellie head for the first time

a/n: wrote this a while ago but since i havent put anything out in a bit, figured this would suffice. inspired by that one twt video...

content/warnings: 886 words, gn reader, cunnilingus (e receiving, r giving), ellie's first time, fingering

eating loser!ellie out is a religious experience

you blow lightly, the cold sting making ellie's legs shudder. it’s her first time having someone go down on her, and you think it’s a fucking shame. every other girl must be blind to not want this sensitive, soaked pussy that clenches around nothing.

then again, you’re glad nobody else has done this for her, because you have the privilege of being first. thank god for that, you think, because you don’t want anyone else to get this kind of perfect view.

closest to you is her clit, puffy and pink with arousal. your eyes gaze next to the trail of neatly-trimmed hair leading up to her navel. just earlier, you’d teased her, licking down that line as she squealed and put her head in her hands. you’d just laughed. “i’ve never been touched there-"

she’d never been touched anywhere. it’s why she was so ecstatic every time you laid a hand on her. originally, you’d thought ellie was just introverted. that she didn’t like anybody touching her.

and then you’d learned she didn’t dislike your touch- on the contrary, she fucking loved it. she loved it so much she had to shy away from it, otherwise her clit would throb and she'd feel the familiar wet spot grow in her panties and her mind would start to wander and think of that time you bent down in front of her in that tiny, slutty skirt and-

ellie shakes again, face flushing the prettiest scarlet you've ever seen. it brings out the ambers and forest greens of her eyes. you lick a stripe up her entrance and she brings both hands up to clutch her face.

"oh shit- oh fuck, oh my god. holy-" her reactions are so cute that you almost feel bad for laughing at her so much, but the embarrassment she gets from it all is just too delicious to stop.

you pinch her clit in between two fingers and her hips jump up into your face. you suck harder and she yelps- is it mean? maybe. but you can tell that even though she's sensitive and nearly overstimulated, she feels amazing.

as your tongue continues its assault on her, she begins to move away. you know it's purely reflex, but you're persistent. ellie, despite being so sensitive, hasn't cum yet and you desperately need her to. when she props herself on her elbows and begins to throw her body backwards to try to shy from your touch, your arms hook around her thighs, encasing her. she can't get away, and this position allows your hands to further spread her open.

"pleasepleaseplease babe, come on, be nice to me." she rambles. despite her pleas, she was just as desperate as you, eagerly wanting to come undone on your tongue. knowing this, you don't repent.

she's still on her elbows, eyes transfixed on the way your mouth fucks her, how you look just as pleased as she does, like she's the best meal you've had. it very well might be, you think. her noises turn incomprehensible. you can make out vague "please"s and "fuck"s, but other than that, she's fully gone. ellie's breath is heavy and shallow. you hope this is a sign that's she about to finish.

your feel her clit twitch on your tongue, and you realize that, yes, she's getting closer. you speed up and ellie starts to thrash around. you look up at her, making eye contact, and she moans, throwing herself back against the bed. "babe, please! fuck- oh shit-!"

ellie's movements become more violent and you let go of her for a moment. she whines, thinking you're stopping to punishing her for being so defiant. as you lean back and sit on your legs, she begins to stutter out an apology that's cut off when you grip her waist and pull her up towards your mouth.

your lips start their assault again. ellie's legs are over your shoulders and her hips are elevated above the bed, allowing you to get into just the right angle that makes her scream. she grinds herself against your face and lets out more indistinguishable noises that you can only assume is ellie begging you to stop, but the way she pushes herself further into you, grinding her clit on your tongue, is telling you something different.

she squeals and you laugh into her cunt, sending vibrations through her body. the way she clenches tightly around your face, clamps down, and all but screams your name tells you that she's about to cum.

"fuck, oh fuck, please- please! a little more i'm almost- i'm so close to- haaaaah!" she finishes with a loud groan that fizzles out into pants. you fuck her through it, tongue slowing down as her head lolls to the side. her eyes are crossed and her legs shake slightly as you pull off of her, putting her thighs on the bed.

you kiss her forehead and she smiles softly. "you did so good for me, els. how was that?"

she grins cheekily, heavily lidded eyes focusing on you now. she bites her lip when she sees the gleaming slick covering your lips.

"it was fucking amazing, is what is was. you think i can do that to you sometime?"

my masterlist

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Propaganda why Tony Stark is insufferable:

>Makes weapons

>Billionaire

>Made multiple AI Surveillance Robots

>Gaslight a child into fighting a super soldier in a foreign country for him

>His fans are annoying

Portrayed as a hero because? He chose to no longer mass produce war weapons and bombs after suffering the consequences. Huge hypocrite. Doesn't care about anyone but himself. Will backstab people if they believe in human rights when it's inconvenient to him. Seen as a hero while he's the personification of privileged people saying they're not privileged

There’s the usual “he’s a war criminal who only felt bad about it when he realized his weapons were killing white Americans as well as Arab people” reason, and also he’s just super annoying. You had to be there for the original Avengers shitty dialogue a la “we have a Hulk” that had Tumblr in a vicious chokehold. Also he was supposed to FINALLY go away after destroying all his suits in Iron Man 3 but he just… didn’t! Which is bullshit.

Tony is so annoying. When they first meet he straight up bullies Peter into fighting for his personal bullshit, insults and objectifies Aunt May in front of him, spits into his trashcan and is in general being pushy af. He blackmails Peter when he doesn’t wanna come to Germany with him AND HE DOESNT EVEN EXPLAIN WHY HE WANTS HIM TO COME. Uncomfortable vibes lol.

Tony being the one to tell peter “if Captain America wanted to hurt you he would’ve” when Peter was trying to state his case, yet HE’S also the one who put Peter in harms way when he didn’t even want to go with him???

Telling Peter that he should stick to being a “friendly neighborhood Spider-Man” (stealing his thing once again) when that’s what Peter _was_ doing before Tony took him out of his zone and filled his head with grander things to be apart of….bitch? Die. Ohh waaaait (jkjk) but yeah

Super long, sorry lol

Thinking about how in Homecoming when Peter accidentally caused that boat to get split in half because the Vulture’s gun exploded and Tony was acting like as if Peter was completely in the wrong for going there just because he did it without his permission. He was acting like as if Peter was out of line and “disobeyed him”, trying to act like his father. And then I remember how in CACW he’s the one who scouted Peter in the first place just because he saw he might be useful against a personal squabble between him and Captain America despite knowing that he was a kid and he’s just now acknowledging how dangerous it is because Peter “acted on his own”

Completely hijacking Peter’s superhero story and trying to control his every move (Training wheels protocol and baby monitor thing he put in the suit), acting like Peter should’ve known that Tony would send someone in despite the fact that he’d been ignoring him for 2 months since Civil War and not keeping him updated on anything!!

How the hell is peter supposed to know Tony is going to listen to him when he treats him like a kid instead of a superhero when it’s convenient for him? And when Tony loses his temper after Peter says he’s 15 not 14 like “the adult is talking” bitch he could literally flatten you without your suit!!!

I guess in a way he is acting like a father but like the absentee kind. He’s more like a sperm donor father trying to act like he has any rights over Peter’s life smh.

It’s not that reprimanding Peter for the situation is bad, but the way he makes it seem as if Peter is irredeemable as if Tony wasn't a literal weapons dealer lmfao. He could’ve said what was the truth about it without completely invalidating him saying shit like “no thanks to you” after Peter asked if everyone is okay when it’s literally thanks to Peter finding a lead on those guys in the first place that they were even noticed and it’s not like the FBI being there could’ve in no way caused a similar situation.

And then near the end of the movie when he’s getting crushed by the building rubble screaming and crying for someone to help him where the fuck is Tony?? That scene just proved that he never needed Tony’s suit in the first place to be Spider-Man since he had to use 100% his own strength to lift it off of him. I know he would’ve found the motivation even if Tony hadn’t been involved in the first place to give him the suit, take it away from him and have the words “if you’re nothing without the suit you shouldn’t have it“ echo in his head. Why did Tony even take the suit away? Like as if he expects Peter to stop being spoderman without it??? Holy fuck. This is why you don’t make it out of endgame /j /srs.

When Tony took this suit away from Peter he was like “God I sound like my dad“ shouldn’t that be a red flag to him? Wasn’t he literally just saying that he wished his dad was better than he was?? Lmfao

Propaganda why Victor Frankenstein is insufferable:

Victor Frankenstein is so pathetic not even tumblr could love him. The best parts of Frankenstein are the ones where your blessedly saved from being in his whiny, self deprecating, self centered pov. He’s so conceited that when his creation tells him directly “In revenge for killing the wife you were making for me I’m going to kill YOUR wife to see how YOU like it!”, Victor Frankenstein thinks that the creation is going to kill him and *only* him. (A decision And on top of it, he’s a shitty dad. Truly the worst.

this fucker has zero self awareness, which could maybe be fun to read about! except that 3/4 of the book consists of him constantly woe-is-me-ing about his own mistakes and how he shouldn't be responsible for any of his own actions.

He's not irredeemable, but his refusal to take accountability til it's too late is irritating

[concreteangel92]

Fine line Between love And Hate

Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

MASTERLIST

Warnings: mean dom!Noah, sub/dom relationship, spanking, spitting, slapping, degrading, oral (male receiving) PiV, bad language

This request is right up my street ahaha I love me a bit of mean Noah, especially when it leads to something better 😏 I hope you enjoy this, definitely turned out longer then I planned but I couldn’t stop writing haha

Also the new photo of him was perfect for this 🥵🥵

“You really are one arrogant cunt aren’t you!”

“What the fuck did you just call me?!”

You couldn’t help yourself, he just brought out a rage within you, ever since you started working for Bad Omens, Noah Sebastian Davis just got right under your skin.

“You deaf as well as stupid?!”

You were old friends with Bryan and jumped at the opportunity to come work along side him as the second videographer for the band. Everything seemed to be going great when you went out on the road, you took some incredible shots and edited together some amazing videos for the bands social media which was a huge hit with the fans. You got on with the rest of the crew and the band….all except one.

It seemed from the moment you met Noah, he took an instant dislike towards you, and he wasn’t shy about making it known. Noah would roll his eyes when you spoke, took digs at you whenever he could, make comments about how the bands videos ‘could be better’ or ‘they aren’t our style’.

It was exhausting constantly feeling like you were at war with Noah, no matter how nice you had tried to be, he still treated you like shit, so you started doing it back, which only fuelled him more.

Today this argument had started over something stupid, you couldn’t even remember at this point, you were both back stage, most of the crew had gone out for a late lunch as everything was now set up for the show later tonight so you were alone. Noah was following behind you as you stormed into the green room to grab your bag, you were so riled up that you just couldn’t hold back anymore, so you called him what he was, an arrogant cunt.

And you’ve never seen him look so mad.

“You better be really fucking careful taking that way to me”

You laughed in his face.

“Why? What the hell are you going to do to me? You can’t fault me on my work at all, I’ve been nothing but a great employee! I tried to be so nice to you, I even looked forward to meeting you originally but you are nothing but a fucking cocky asswipe that loves the sound of his own voice. I give up with you because nothing I do is going to please you!”

The next thing you knew, you felt Noah’s hands grab onto your face and pulled you into a hard kiss, his body pushing into yours and you could feel how hard he was against you.

“Will you shut the fuck up already! Ever since Bryan brought you here, you have been all I can fucking think about! You are driving me insane and it’s infuriating, and you aren’t scared of talking back to me and the one thing that I constantly think about is how I want nothing more than to put you in your fucking place!”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Noah’s hand grab hold of your hair and pulled you back in, it was hard and dominating and everything you could have hoped for.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me and get on your knees and show me how sorry you are for running that pretty mouth of yours”

Hearing him calling you a good girl had definitely flipped a switch in your brain, the sub within you fully coming to the surface.

You fell onto your knees and undone his trousers to help pull him out, your mouth watering at the sight. He was hard and heavy in your hand, you gave him a couple strokes before leaning forward and running your tongue along him causing him to groan from above you.

Noah’s hands gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail, you wrapped your lips around his tip and then sucked down on him hard, his hips jolting forward as you did.

“Fuck, just like that”

You started to bob your head up and down on him while using your tongue to swirl around and tease his head, one of your hands came up to grab him at the base to help simulate what you couldn’t fit inside your mouth and your other hand gently massage his balls.

Noah wasn’t shy in letting out his groans as you worked him up, you felt his hips start to move and his grip in your hair became tighter as he used your mouth, feeling your eyes water as he hit the back of your throat but forcing yourself to relax into his movements as you carried on sucking him off.

“Fuck…look at you…not so back chatty now are we?”

You moaned around him as he spoke down to you, tears ran down your cheeks and you felt your saliva dripping down your chin. You were so turned on from his reactions that you couldn’t help but reach down to try and relieve the ache in between your legs, something that Noah clearly didn’t like.

“Don’t you fucking dare”

Noah immediately pulled you off of him and back up into a standing position, still towering over you of course. You weren’t prepared for the light smack that Noah planted across your cheek.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

You shook your head, your body tingling in anticipation of what he was going to do.

*Light smack*

“I can’t hear you”

“No sir”

Noah smirked at the nickname and stroked the cheek he had just slapped.

“That’s better baby, now open your mouth”

You did without hesitation and moaned as Noah spat onto your tongue.

“Swallow it”

You did as commanded, your eyes never leaving his.

“That’s my good girl, I knew that mouth could be put to better use”

Noah then walked you back until you hit the sofa and he turned you around so you were bent over it. He pushed your leather skirt up over your hips, ripped your fishnet tights apart and moved your underwear to the side before you felt him lining himself up and teasing your folds.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this”

You jumped when Noah spanked your ass before gripping it hard.

“You have the most spankable ass baby, no wonder I’ve not been able to concentrate on anything”

You pushed yourself back onto him as he started to slip himself in. You shut your eyes as you felt him stretch you open, the slight burning sensation only adding to how good you felt.

“Noah…”

You felt his hand run down your spine as he let you adjust to his size, you felt yourself clenching around him.

“It’s like you were made for me…fuck…you feel incredible”

Noah spanked your ass again before he started to move, he set up a fast, relentless pace that had you practically screaming for him.

You gripped onto the sofa, your thighs shaking as Noah ruined you, you had no idea how it had got to this but you were so glad it had.

Noah continued his brutal pace, hitting something deep inside you, you felt so used by him but in the most sinful way, you wish you could see what he looked like as you bet he looked beautiful. You felt his hands on your hips, pulling you back into him hard.

“This pussy was made for me, who does it belong to?”

You cried out at his words, not being able to form a coherent sentence until you felt yet another smack on your backside.

“I asked you a question angel”

You arched your back as he carried on thrusting into you.

“Yours Noah, fuck….I’m all yours”

Noah groaned deep from within his chest as his hips faulted at your words. His hand wrapped itself in your hair and brought you back into his chest, the new angle making your head spin deliciously.

You felt Noah’s free hand work its way in between your legs and he started to rub fast circles onto your clit, causing your stomach to twist up beautifully tight.

“Cum for me, that’s it, be a good girl and cum for me”

Hearing his words mixed with his expert touch was all it took to send you over the edge, you cried out and arched back into him as your orgasm washed over you in hot waves, Noah holding onto you and working you through it until his hips stilled and he emptied himself into you.

You both tried to catch your breath as you leant into the sofa, moaning as he pulled out of you slowly and leaving you feeling empty and your legs like jelly.

Noah kissed your shoulder and moved your underwear and skirt back in place before fixing his own clothes and turning you around to face him.

You felt your cheeks burn under his intense gaze, he leant down and gave you a gentle kiss, a far cry from the dominant persona you’d just experienced.

“Have I ever mentioned that you drive me crazy?”

You giggled and kissed him again.

“I’m definitely getting that impression”

Noah smiled down at you.

“So….can I take you out for dinner?”

[verysium]

PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹

😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.

RIN

brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.

competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.

probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.

has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.

reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.

SAE

zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.

the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.

swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.

has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.

a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.

somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.

KAISER

alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.

has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.

insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.

lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.

"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.

does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.

NAGI

a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.

does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.

rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.

not loyal (need i say more.)

REO

second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.

acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.

"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.

NESS

touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.

probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.

delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.

ISAGI

a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.

solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)

has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.

says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.

BAROU

has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.

he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.

he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.

with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.

BACHIRA

this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.

one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.

has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.

SHIDOU

a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.

"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)

has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.

you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.

where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.

and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.

i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡

[we-were-beautiful]

Cassian is such a girl dad, and I will live and die on this hill

Like I understand we all agree that he and Eris are both girl dads but with Cass it is on a whole different level

This is the guy who originally wanted a son but ended up with a small army of girls who act just like their mother and he absolutely is 100% there for it.

Of the Bat boys Cass has the whole hair thing down, especially since he himself has long hair. Pony tails, braids buns he can do it all. To the point that Az and Rhys would go to him for help with their kiddos hair.

Cassian absolutely lords this over Rhys and Az.

He also has no spine when it comes to his girls. They want to play pretty princess tea party; he will end end up with kiddie jewelry, bows and a plastic tiara. He absolutely will play along sitting in a chair that is far to small for him and his wings asking the princesses for more tea.

Rhys and Az have also walked in on this and tease Cass with this whenever they can

Training his girls to be Valkyrie. He wants his babies to know how to defend themselves and a soon as they are big enough he starts teaching them self defense and he adjust the training as they get older.

He has brought his family to Illyria a few times. The camp loaded were none to pleased with this small army of sassy mini Valkyrie following him. He hates the whispers from those stuck in the old ways and has gotten into multiple fights about it too.

He is not prepared for when they get older and start dating. This male will absolutely panic the moment one of his girls says they have a date

When they are younger he likes to nap when the girls are napping, and their favorite place to nap is hidden from the world under their dads large wings. It’s not uncommon for mom to return to find all of them in their bed curled up with their dad.

They do however pick up a lot of Cass’ bad habits like swearing and his general devil may care attitude. It drives mom crazy.

Cass still has his annual snowball fight with the other bat boys, but he also has a snowball fight with his baby bats. Yes it is him against the mini Valkyrie, and he has “lost” every year but it is his favorite thing in the whole wide world

The Lord of Bloodshed is an absolute softie when it comes to his mate and girls, but he still has a reputation to uphold any one who says shit about his family will absolutely get wrecked.

Later down the line after one or two of his girls had gone through the Blood Rite (See absolutely crushing it), his mate has another babe, this time a little boy. And boy howdy Cass does not know what to do with a baby boy

“I know how to raise girls love, I don’t know what to do with a boy” all while refusing to let his brothers hold his son

[tainted-liquor]

'La Princesa De Mi Corazon⋆˙⟡♡

E42!Miles Morales x Daddy's Girl!BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles ! TWs: Cursing, realistic teenage dates (he didn't spend no 5k cmon now) W/C: 2.4k A/N: This can be read as an autistic reader if u squint rllly hard ! Another lovely request I got!! Enjoy luvs

For as long as you can remember, you've never actually been told the word "no" by your father. When your mother didn't wanna get something for you, you'd just ask your dad! Since you were the youngest and first daughter in your parent's long line of sons, with you having 4 older brothers, there were times when you didn't even have to ask, it was just yours before you could even think about it. Clothes, phones, shoes, makeup, perfume, all of it was yours. You were a daddy's money girl, with everything in the world right at your fingertips. So naturally, you tended to avoid serious relationships with boys due to your insanely high standards that had been curated since birth. Until you met him, Miles.

Miles was the complete opposite of you and your aesthetic. Where you were giddy and childish, he was serious and mature. You possessed everything under the sun in the shade of pink, where he barely had anything besides black and purples in his closet. Originally he didn't fuckin' like you, like, at all. He thought you were a 'spoiled air-headed dressed up money drowned bimbo' due to his experience in 'working' with rich people. They all seemed to act the same way and wanted the exact same thing, money or power.

But that view dropped immediately when he saw you interact with others. You weren't rude, you definitely weren't stupid, and you were the kindest most giving person he had ever seen before. People all in your circle constantly praised you for how sisterly you were, handing out gifts and words of wisdom like candy. Your only 'flaw' was your ignorance, living blind to the world around you due to being so heavily protected by your father. Sure, there was crime everywhere and New York was a walking murderhouse, but you didn't know that!

You were casually talking to one of your best friends Brenna when you bumped into someone, knocking you straight on your ass and causing him to stumble back a little. "I am so so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going!" you empathized as you picked yourself up and immediately offered to help the stranger. He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket as he spoke, his voice quiet and steady as he did. "Oh my bad, It's all good. Just be careful." You gave him a warm smile and a brief nod before setting off again, assuming that would be the last time you two spoke. And damn were you wrong.

The next time you'd see Miles, you were at the mall the following Saturday with a shit ton of bags in your hands. You practically skipped through the concourses of the mall, smiling and giggling with Brenna. You were in a brand new off-white dress and rounded the corner to see Miles waiting for a Cinnabon in line. As soon as you saw the blue and white logo of the bakery, and the smell of sweet sugar and baked goods kissed the tip of your nose, you stopped what you were doing and stood behind the familiar set of twin braids. "Hey, Miles!"

Miles looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening a fraction when he saw over 10 bags on each of your arms. "Yo…what's up with all your bags? You don't feel your circulation gettin' cut off?" he asked with a bewildered expression, "Damn, how much money you spent here?" he gawked. Truth is, you weren't sure. All your dad said was to have fun and he didn't necessarily…give you an amount to spend, he just handed you the card and told you the PIN. "I actually don't know. This has to be a minimum of 600 dollars, Daddy just kinda told me to have fun with it!" You shrugged like that was completely normal.

Miles stared for a minute, analyzing the 20 bags you had in total from various stores. he sighed with a small smirk, shaking his head in disbelief as you sort of merged with his spot in line. Neither of you realized, but you unknowingly recruited Miles in your shenanigans at the mall as soon as you both left the bakery with a series of sweets. You three set off to the nearby sneaker outlet, buying everyone a minimum of 4 pairs of sneakers to match every outfit they'd ever make. If Miles didn't know before, he knew now that you were the gift god when it came to generosity and Daddy's money.

His entire perspective of you changed that day, with you more actively talking his ear off and surprising him with random shit you got with your dad's credit card. He knew then and there that your standards were sky high and anyone who ever fell in love with you would be up for a bullfight ahead of them. He saw how your dad showered you with absolutely anything you asked for, with you even having a real-life princess crown from 2011 plated with morganite and rubies stationed in a plastic case on a high shelf in your room. But as he spent more time hanging out with you or spending time over at your house with your brothers, it hit him like a fucking truck. He knew whoever found themself head-over-heels for the pretty pink princess of her family would be in for a fucking hell of a time, he just never expected it to be HIM.

The day he realized he loved you was just like any other day, with you speeding up to him whenever you saw him. Your usual poofy dress skirt flows behind you like something out of a Disney animation. As soon as he knew to grab you so you didn't send the both of you falling to the ground, he felt a sudden warmth in his face. No, not you smushing your face against his as you gave him a spine-breaking hug, but a new kind of warmth that screamed danger. He suddenly became aware of your perfectly fitting style and the way each of the features on your face harmonized perfectly to create the perfection that is you.

Even though you came from completely different backgrounds, you never ONCE in your life dared say something about his situation. There were nights when he would just watch you as the prowler, skipping through his neighborhood like you didn't hear any of the gunshots, screams, explosions, or see anything wrong at all with where you currently were. It's not that you didn't notice, but you were completely aware that not everyone was as fortunate as you were, so you had no right to look at situations that weren't identical to yours any differently. And despite how "uppity" you looked on the surface, you truly thought of everyone as a new friend.

You, on the other hand, were crushing HARD. On some, you actively got quieter and sometimes just shut the fuck up entirely when Miles was nearby. You knew that you were probably making a mistake by genuinely loving someone so fully in this age of infidelity and communication issues, but you couldn't help it! He was just so pretty and listened to everything you had to say and he never once asked you for anything! Ever! You didn't know how Miles would behave in a relationship, but you damn sure weren't prepared for it.

When Miles asked you out on a date, you were a squealing mess. You threw on a pretty pink dress and quickly threw your goddess braids into a quick bun. When your dad watched as you eagerly checked your outfit in the mirror, he was a little taken aback when you told him that you were going on a date. He gave you a warm smile, telling you to be safe and if he tries anything that he'll blow his fuckin' top off. You laughed at him being so overprotective, calmly explaining to him that Miles wasn't like that at all.

You silently pondered where Miles was planning on taking you. You didn't want your first date to be all fancy, because that made them look like they were trying way too hard. But you also didn't wanna sit in some random diner, either…you didn't know what you wanted. All you did was hope that he paid attention to any of your conversations as you patiently waited on your velvety couch. You immediately perked up at the sound of the doorbell, flying to the door and waiting a couple of seconds before swinging it open.

"Mírate! La princesa de Nueva York! You love your dresses, huh?" He asked with a small smile, bracing himself as you dove straight into his arms. You giggled as you did a small little spin, showcasing the new silk dress. "I was debating on a different babydoll dress I have or this one. This one just felt more fitting!" you shrugged as you closed the front door behind the both of you. Miles had no idea what a babydoll dress was, but he made sure to let you know that you looked stunning in this seashell shade of pink. You follow closely behind Miles, loosely wrapping both of your arms around his left arm as you begin to break down the various types of dresses, and which one was your favorite.

"I didn't even know dresses had names…What's your favorite kind?" He asked with a small amused smile. Not only was this the first time someone had actively listened to you rant about your love of dresses, but he made an effort to even ask what your favorite one was? Lord, he was in for an earful. And he clung to every single word you said like it was the sweetest of melodies. When you finished your long-winded rant regarding pink flowy sundresses, he nodded with a bashful grin. "So a puff-sleeved peasant dress made of chiffon?"

You nodded eagerly as you realized he had been listening to you the entire time. "Yeah! I drew it in my sketchbook a little while back, I think I'll show you when we walk back." You chirped as you slowly began to approach what looked like the most gorgeous candy store of your life. It smelled like heaven and looked just like eye candy. You didn't even get the chance to point before Miles gently guided you through the frosted glass double doors. You beamed as you immediately set off (taking him with you) toward some of the pastries.

You filled up two mini bags with various types of candy, croissants, and two rock candies, one in purple and one in pink. "Miles, what's your favorite candy?" You asked as you scooped gummy sharks into your bag. "Uhh…those sour airhead stripes," he replied as he grabbed two near-frozen sodas from the wide commercial fridge. You got two packs of his favorite candy and slipped it into one of your candy bags, skipping over to him to pay for everything at the counter. You rummaged through your bag for your wallet, looking up to realize Miles already had planted his card in the reader.

"C'mon, this is like, so much stuff! Let me pay!" you insisted as you went to open your wallet. He gave you a firm glare, zipping your entire wallet closed and stuffing it back in your bag. "You good? I'm taking YOU on a date, not the other way around" he asked as you intertwined your hand with his, allowing him to lead you back out of the candy store. You played back his words in your mind, processing each syllable and just how much it meant to you. You giggled to yourself as Miles told you that you were gonna go rollerskating before he took you back home!

There was no actual problem, you loved the idea of going skating with Miles! The issue was…you couldn't skate. Miles laughed loudly as he watched you attempt to meet him on the rink, trying not to bust your ass on the soft and neon carpet. You froze in complete terror, holding both arms out and vaguely resembling a confused cat with its ears back. Miles glided over to you between a fit of giggles, holding out his hand for you to hold onto.

You firmly grasped his hand, holding on for dear life as he slowly guided you to the shiny hardwood floors of the rink. "Miles I'm gonna fucking cry," you state, wide-eyed and afraid as your legs seem to weaken as he gently pushes you forward. "Alright, hold on mama. I gotcha, just drag your legs forward," he instructs as he glides forward like clockwork. He takes both of your hands within his, laughing as you fight back the urge to scream as you look down at the ground. "And here I thought you loved skating!" he laughed.

"I do! I swear I do! But I can't…oh my god I'm gonna faint…" you sighed as you wrapped both arms firmly around his torso, squeezing him like your life depended on it. "Alright, c'mon. Te ayudaré." he shrugs as he propels the both of you forward as slow as he knows how to. It was amazing, and your face lit up when you realized how fun it was to 'rollerskate'. You hadn't realized when, but you naturally picked up the rhythm of Miles's legs, adapting his style of skating slowly but surely. And when you realized you weren't even holding on to him anymore, your face lit up brighter than any star in the world.

When you packed everything up and returned both of your skates, you were giggling like a child and buzzed off nothing but sugar. You wildly explained how much fun you had and how you felt like a flying fairy on the skating rink, thanking Miles over and over for being so fun. He dropped you off at your house, holding a brief conversation with your parents as you skipped upstairs to find your sketchbook. You eagerly showed him the plethora of dresses you had cooked up in your head, explaining every one of them.

"Damn, you really are a princess huh?" He chuckled as you flipped through the many beta designs of dresses comparable to that of Princess Diana's. "I'll just have to get you one of these next time then huh? Tú eres la Princesa de mi corazon." he chuckled as you waved goodbye. You didn't know what he was saying, but you couldn't help but beam at the affectionate energy radiating from his words. He gave a formal goodbye to your parents before disappearing as swiftly as he arrived.

"I like that kid. He's very proper." You heard your mother exclaim. "Will he be over more often?"

You nodded eagerly as you ran up to your room to scream more into your pillow.

[chokchokk]

𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 | park seonghwa x fem!reader x choi san

part one of gangster!mafia!series "𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞-𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞"

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Picking your own poison, if poison was given to you in form of bankrolls by venomous men with high demands.

In which Park Seonghwa had a plan and Choi San has ideas.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : noir, smut, angst | korean mafia/geondal!au | ceo/jaebeol!au

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 18.2k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : entitled rich people, workplace harassment, alcoholism, softdom ceo!seonghwa (headman park), half-drunk satoori-using dom mafiaboss!san (mr. choi), both are called by their names at some point, sub-leaning bratty switch servant!femreader, use of (pet-)names (missy, baby, princess), groping, thigh-riding, light choking, light hair-pulling, non-penetrative sex, voyeur!seonghwa, sex in the elevator, counts as mirror sex right, biting kink, manhandling!san, edging, breeding, cum-eating (m), cunnilingus; reader hates the rich except for when they are sexy, implied but not severe age gap, writer does not have daddy kink but mafiaboss!san does, gunshots and death, use of korean proverbs

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : this with the next part will be the origin story for reader, specifically the series synopsis’ first half :) originally, this has been a request, so please read this, if you desire to have a bit more insight to what the series actually is + translations of certain terms (mostly character dynamics) in this chapter !!

tl;dr: since it's all based around korean mafia/gangster/etc, there will be korean culture scattered between the lines. it is all translated, hopefully in an understandable way!!! (please hmu if there are difficulties) i let out honorifics/romanisation, except for "chaebol" since it's an actual word :) that being said, reader's ethnicity is not specified and won't be relevant to the series in any way !! 

smut comes after the second border, and uh,,, i had to shorten that shit (pls dont ask me where) but uh. you’re getting 8k words of smut so buckle up LMAO !!! i hope you enjoy as much as i did writing it !!! thank you for likes, reblogs and feedback xoxo (also this is NOT beta-read so pls dont hesitate to tell me about... like.... errors, tags and shit)

[ now playing : money ▸ pink floyd | listen to the playlist ]

It's getting repetitive. They are drinking their ninth bottle of expensive whiskey, smoking their third or fourth disgustingly pricey cigar— what the fuck, is this seriously what the upper men of your nation are doing at some stupid chairman’s dinner party?

“Missy!”

“Me, sir?”

No wonder the economy's fucking shit.

“Yeah, you, missy, give that gent over there one of our divine Denmarks!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give him a kiss too, while you’re at it! What do you think? He’s still got it, no?”

Said ‘gent’, some old, scummy clown— winks at you, his gray eyelashes fluttering towards your direction.

“Yes, sir."

God, how bad you wish you had snuck your phone in to take a picture of these red, drunken, senseless faces, but you're a dutiful servant, abiding by the rules at all times, however difficult it may be. You’re holding in your puke professionally, not even doing something as to grit your teeth, just softly letting your jaw play along to your friendly smile.

“Does your willy even still work that way, old friend?", a cranky, yet humorous voice pitches in.

Agreeing to your supervisor’s offer to earn “big money” may have been a bad idea, but a good choice. Jongho said he’d seen you at your work, took special note of you— even though you weren’t sure where exactly he had observed you, since it’s only been a month of actually working as a servant in the lower tiers of the building— and wanted to give you a chance to swim with the big sharks. “I think you’re best suited for the job,” is what he said to make you giggle and think about your initial rejection of his proposition, “you have a talent for serving.”

Something you didn’t know you had, something you didn’t know someone would see in you ever in your life, “talent.” Sure, maybe you let yourself be persuaded a bit too fast, but it felt very touching that somebody saw you and saw potential, for whatever occasion it may be for. You don’t necessarily want to screw the rules of the hierarchical pyramid or what it was that kept you from being in the proximity of the chairman, but you really need the extra cash right now.

"What does a girl from the mountains look for in being a servant in the city?", had been the question you were asked by Lady Kim who gave you the leftovers of her restaurant at the end of the day, when you had just started with the training– poor, barely standing on your own feet. 

You remember how you explained to her that the buddhist monks who raised and send you here surrounded themselves with wells to remind everyone that water always returned, and you assumed it would work the same with wealth. You also remember how hard she tried to stay kind to you, showing you her sincerest sympathy by telling you that "the chaebol are no joke!" (at least not a joke, an innocent girl like you could laugh about, she later explained) and giving you an extra portion of her home-made dumplings to suit you up.

Her sharp, yet compassionate voice rings in your ears, as you reapply your red lipstick on the way to your target guest. Oh, Lady Kim, what a graceful woman– she put her all into her work for her restaurant to succeed, but had always made a place to share what she had for those who needed it. Such a lovable woman, she must have been well-liked by all around her.

You get it now, the way you had been so naive back then. Floating on the philosophical happy-go-lucky psyche of the city’s promise of prosperity, trying to live the Korean dream strangely enough as someone who was so sarcastically out of touch with it. If you had been in her position, you wouldn’t have been able to be as nice, no, would have warned yourself with a finger pointed upwards as if you were teaching a little kid about strangers, or how your monks said, ‘tigers in the woods’.

“After that cigar, his dick will turn to dust!”

Maybe things would have looked different, if you hadn’t taken that fund from the school’s superintendent, who slid you that card on your table with a smirk on his face. Oh dear, do you remember how excited you had been? You ran through the streets in your worn-out shoes with that plastic sheet in your hand, on your way to tell that the money on it was such a ridiculously high number that you could split— but Lady Kim had got to know it first, the ridiculousness of the rich, with the demolition of her restaurant-building.

“He’s got no cum in his nutsacks ‘no more anyway!”

No warning, no compensation, just everything crushed to pieces to make place for the big corporations; the fancy neon-signs she'd invested in, the ambition of her enthusiastic dreams, your only source of tender charity, shattered to a wreck. You have never seen her since, and can only laugh about how the fancy food of the chaebol—and you definitely know who they are now, those tasteless men gawking at you in the moment—doesn’t even look half as good as her low-cost black bean noodles you could more than afford now. 

The present day-you is less dreamy, but just as lost, forced to work off a debt you hadn’t been informed about when you lived off the favorable “fund”-money. No, Lady Kim, this is all a joke, you would tell her today. A really fucking bad one.

So, making room for another ha-ha in your life, you pulled your eyes up innocently, returning Jongho’s specious smiles. “Is it illegal to collect pocket-money from the rich?” It’s not like you had any doubts at that point, but 'they'll buy you out of prison if you’re good enough' was all you needed anyway to put your uniform on tightly at home.

"Can't even shoot his cum in missy to save his blood!"

Your more experienced co-workers are watching you work with a condescending frown, feeling both jealous you're getting all the men's attention, but also maliciously delighted you're being challenged as the new-coming servant who's obviously of erotic interest to these richlings. They want you to get a "taste of life" for you may be the most goody-goody fawning bitch they have ever seen; just a young birdbrain who has nothing to bring to the table except her body. Young thing won’t hold up, doesn't know who she's working with— though they are quite right about that part, you must admit, you frankly didn’t look up whose money you’re taking right now— she doesn’t know who the fuck she is.

"What? Did his son leave the company, too?"

It’s flattering to know that the other pretty servants look at you and only see some candy-coated muppet, but fairly, your ever-frozen smile on your face doesn’t give them much to work with. You’re simply an annoyance to their routine, and if you could, you would like to comfort them by saying none of the money you’re getting will stay in your hands– they’d be so happy to hear that you’re really worth nothing– but you must stay focused.

“Idiot, he’s only got a daughter!”

So yes, that being said, you’re glad nobody ever asks you about you. Everyone just assumes, judges from what they see, and if what they see is an opportunistic bimbo-girl chasing money, then so be it, right?

"You know, the one he married off to the governor?”

Right. Because you too have not a single second to think nor talk about your past. The present is scarce and the future is fragile, you know it the best. And you owe it to your old men to make the best out of their efforts, don't you? The air in this room may not be the one you inhaled in the mountains, but you still have to use it, breathe, be alive, despite how moldy and spoiled it simmers in your throat.

"Real mad! Anything to avoid that fee, huh, missy? Got no semen and no glory! You really want to give him that cigar?”

So, that taste of life? Fucking bitter, just like how that name 'missy' seeps and sweats on your tongue. You can’t loathe your co-workers for this reason, they're basically in the same wooden, shaky boat as you, but these asswipes here are floating on a fucking yacht. Of course they don't follow some type of code of human decency for you, they don't give two shits about the lowlifes, the poor. They watch them like a spectacle, and because they don't regard you as a human-being but rather a toy, they play with you on strings that are, on the other hand, binding together a big, fat bankroll.

Ka-Ching.

Eyes on the price, Y/N, eyes on the price. You may not own a lot, that's been more than established, but if there is something you have, it's dutifulness, commitment, and proficiency. It will remain difficult to keep inner peace and honor with a job of which "duty" it is to be a deferential, subservient doll, but at least you're alive and well, soon to leave this floor with more money to your name that these fuckers don't know anyway, right? Never let that smile drop, smart girl. You have a talent, just like your supervisor said. Just keep on serving.

“No children-makin' is better for the cheatin'— ha!”, the barren, that fruitless man who’s been made fun of whoops in to stand up for himself, and awaits his tobacco that's being driven to him by your cart.

You open up the wooden chest in which the cheroots, so unnecessarily gold-plated, sit and ridicule you with their rare existence. There are just thousands of dollars sitting in your hand right now, and as you fetch the thick roll with wary fingers, you think, fucking hell, this could feed so many people, and they're just smoking it away like it's nothing, assholes.

The other servants frown at you spitefully during the time you bow down. You're sensually placing the brown cylindrical object into his mouth, a match lighting held to his face to light it up. In addition to the experience, you hold one long stare with his washy eyes, because you assume it will ignite him.

And, oh, how excited he gets.

"Thank you, sir," you chuckle and flutter with your eyelashes, pursing up your lips like you’re an innocent little girl getting a piece of candy behind her parents’ back.

“Just mad! Missy's young enough to be your grandchild, fella!”

You’re aware of exactly what your dear co-workers are thinking, but being ordered to light their cigs and then ogled at is not "baby-treatment” or whatever they’re muttering under their breath, it's your subtle strategy to have that bankroll be slid between your thighs.

"Hey now, I still can get it on! Don't you think so too, missy?"

Dumb Y/N, only has money on her mind. Allows herself to be called "missy", like a dumb fucking slut. 

Hm, kind of has a ring to it, don't you think?

"Yes, sir."

Let them all think you're a dummy. Let them believe, believe each other's words in whatever they fucking want. You're almost too certain it's the secret reason Jongho offered you a place here anyway; "suited for the job", because he deems you dense enough to not understand any of the nonsense these twelve men are babbling, "big money", because he knows you will do anything for it. 

You’ll still take the talent, but if he really thinks the rest, then oh, sucks to be him.

Yes, you haven’t looked up the names of who the men here are for the same reasons they're not using yours, but the second you’re out of this whiny, weak testosterone-drowned room, you're going to write the most thorough blackmail, because you can not listen to their cheating, money-laundering, corrupted bullshit anymore. Getting involved with the handshakers is the last thing you should do if you want to live a silent, carefree life, and you know this too well, but they're not going to believe it was you anyway. They wouldn’t dream of their missy to do such a competent, smart thing. You even know what you're going to write under the letter so they have something to think about in their cells: 'birds listen to the words of day, mice to the words at night'— walls have ears, too.

Ah, the soft, sometimes very cryptic voice of your favorite old monk. Always there to teach you new things, remind you of how to live your life cheerfully. You still believe he would have rather kept you in the mountains and not drop you on a wild voyage into the unknown urban life, but your old man had his reincarnation coming. You should visit his grave again, it's been a while, hasn't it? Wouldn't he be so proud to see you? To see how much his little Y/N has grown and learnt, using his proverbs to restore justice? Well, for what you still can collect of your late mentor, he would probably make big eyes and use his whole body to keep your monetary gift away from him. "Teacher," you would ask, "don't you at least want to save?", and his answer would remain the same;

"Peace comes free."

You feel warm at the distant memory of the bald-headed man warming himself in his orange gown, teaching you about love, harmony and kindness, but that sweet veil of untainted innocence has long dropped from your eyes.

In front of you, you see tycoons continuing having a blast being their shitty selves, and as golden teeth blend your sight, they are entertaining each other by staring at your legs that are covered by your sheer black stockings, whispering their insight of how you'd look like under it, but the mini-skirt only leaves so much for imagination.

"Sweet missy!"

How could you not want to spit into their face? They have bought the war. They have bought the chaos. And why? Just because they can. It doesn't cost you anything to restore some peace, maybe that’s the thing your old man got right.

"Yes, sir?”

“Do you have any Cubans left, sweet missy?”

“A Cuban, coming right up, sir.”

“Hopefully someone’s gonna come after the party tonight!”

Are you humiliated? As someone who lived among the wisest, clearest heads, and was considered just as smart by them to be wished a ‘more fortunate life’ — No.

You couldn’t care less about their perversions. Especially now, when they seemingly don’t care enough to know your name you've introduced yourself with. You are here for one reason, and it's not to prove your worth to the world, it's to secure your place in it, get that parasitic debt off your shoulders.

And if anything, as long you are staying truthful to yourself, there’s nothing that could take away your spirit. That’s what you want to believe, at least. When you’re out of debt and continue with this job, you could spend every day downtown like the other servants, but for you, it's all going to the savings for the family you're going to feed with not one worry in life on the clear land in the mountains, not under a sky that's polluted by light even when the sun has set.

The clock has announced night long time ago. Outside the windows, there shines and roams a loud, restless city under a starless, foggy black blanket, inhabited by people like you who live day by day to make their living, like small flies forgathered in a hive of exhausting labor, buzzing their life away.

It’s what you think every time you peek down the glass room: Seoul has never looked so small. Across and around the ever-flowing Han-River, the metropole is the home of millions who are looking up with their heads far back their necks to the point right here, where you stand, at the center or peak of all the wealth gathered together, inside the highest building standing tall amidst of the tumult, on the 114th floor, towering over the world in a luxurious dining room decorated by exotic animals, marbled statues and most importantly the filthy glimmer of something they call ‘class’.

“Missy,” the chairman calls out for you, raising his hand, right after he’s made another infidelity joke and showed his luxurious wedding ring to the audience.

“Yes, sir?”, you call out, wearing your pristine servant-smile with your hands folded nicely in front of your stomach, voice not tainted by your disgust as to even one note, despite the other servants looking at you with hateful expressions. They wish you the worst; the worst treatment, the worst performance, anything to get you out of this place. 

Maybe they're driven by the same instincts and avarice that makes you hate the rich,  with them just thinking you're taking away their money, but it's free territory here with these predators; you just make for great prey.

It’s a challenge to all of the people involved and the contestants can only win. Will it be another pick-up line? You're going to pick on that with ease. Another joke about your age? That one is never going to get old. There, bring it on, you think, and feel proud of your confident spirit, ready to run with whatever they throw and stash it into your wallet.

“You see those youngsters back there? Get 'em some more ice."

“Yes, sir.”

“Chaps don't know how to drink the good stuff yet, what a waste! Next time, buy 'em the cheap soju from the mart! The ones for 5,000 Won, missy, you know those?”

“Yes, sir.” Your whole face flashes a smile, bowing to accept the task of refilling some ice, dragging your cart across the room, as male laughter rings in your ears. It's as if they don't realize they also drink cheap liquor, but you suppose that's forgettable when they are flushing the fanciest of meats down with it.

"Be careful, missy!"

Are you being too mild by saying you want to ram the green glass-bottles into their heads?

"They bite!”

Maybe choke them with their own money bills?

Yes, “Yes, sir.”

It's a fun exercise to fantasize about how to hurt them, so you thought you would be busy enough to ignore the chairman's warning, but as you are on your long way to the end of the even longer glass table to push your cart towards the men he is referring to, there's a growing feeling inside your guts that oh, the chairman may be ... 

Huh, right for the first time. The quizzical lump expands warmly as much as it is cold, with goosebumps running down your spine, your hands feeling hotter than ever over the metal cart. Your whole body is trying to signal you that something is off on the other side of the table, but you don’t know whether to ignore it or run.

The annoying, empty-minded, impertinent elders, who have been belly-laughing at the chairman's joke a second ago stop with their chatting and only exhale huffs, and prolong them nervously, that’s off. The servants gulping, loosening their crossed arms– that’s off, too. 

“So, uhh… Where was the, uh– food from?”

“Oh, lad, good topic, yes– the delicious food…”

It seems that everyone in the room is trying to fill in the silence with the fakest of laughter, so the chairman can move on from the topic, but you're well over your way there, uninformed to what you're going to be hit with once you halt.

Tycoons like them usually don't need back-checking. You know how to deal with ill-willed imbeciles that only use their estate as a weapon. Their bodies and brains have passed prime an eternity ago. Left behind are only their numbed minds that seek shelter in lust, ecstasy and aphrodisia because nothing else excites them anymore. They’re what you probably would have been if you hadn’t spent your teens brewing tea and listening to the leaves rustle, not experiencing all euphoria and more at a too early age– they’re washed out, just swimming in money they haven't worked a day for, are lazy, weary sloths.

However, opposed to the cloudiness in their class that's only getting more foggier through the many years of monopoly, these two men that are waiting in front of you, and you understand why your lungs are pinging now, they are potent.

Money is power, but twist it around and there is them, with that; a certain force that the rich ooze out by just acting and looking a certain way, and oh, Y/N, how they are, how they are looking at you right now, best believe you have to hold onto your strength like it's a small purse.

'Youngsters', he said— 'they bite', he said.

They have been rarely reacting to the chairman’s words, notwithstanding being the ones to be the most respectful in this meeting for their young age, just looking at each other with unamused eyes. Even the director who is older than the chairman lets out his best holler every time, but these two have not laughed once at his jokes, not the slightest chuckle has left their mouths to flatter or satisfy the chairman.

Interesting.

Both black-haired, the one you get to first has his mane gelled back, a cigarette hanging out his scarred mouth, as you approach his seat with your cart walking carefully practiced steps. His white shirt is opened up to where chains, most importantly a silver cross, hang from his collarbones to his chest that’s covered with scars and scratches you can’t quite identify how they got there. This man looks gigantic, muscular, dangerous. Shoulders terrifyingly broad popping out his black vest, he sits on his seat with widened legs, thighs flattened in his also black pants, fastened by a leather belt, and with his white sleeves pulled back to his elbows, his slightly tanned forearms only appear more huge after the rather average-looking wristwatch catches your eye, just when you stop with your cart in front of him.

“That old geezer just can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?”, he chuckles, the Gyeongsang-provincial dialect rolling so naturally off his tongue. Everyone else in the room has been faking their speech to cosplay a charm they didn’t possess, but even the slight lisp and lull from the drunkenness are not hiding how deeply masculine and sincere this man’s voice sounds. It’s a mixture of the sarcasm you've gotten used to by now, but also a brashness that the older men lack, and you’re a bit embarrassed to say it’s working you up a bit. "Empty carts rattle loudest, I say."

A wintry breeze goes through your breast and you feel your eyebrows flinch. You haven't heard that grandmotherly expression in so long, that it does feel somehow refreshing to reconcile with it, but maybe the whisk you sense shouldn’t feel as comforting given the way the man is looking up to you brazenly with a bit of atrocity in his appearance. He is far away from the serene sketch you drew to save the vision as you left the village, he is what you felt when you took your first train, asphyxiated by the big masses of people who you would never see again— an unhomely, yet intimate feeling of... adventure.

He glances through you smoking his cigarette with no hands attached, and it moves at the corner of his lip as he talks. Wait, cigarette? Missy, did you forget to bring him a cigar?

"Let's see when he runs out of words."

“It’s alright, sir,” you answer, suppressing a slight chuckle because yes, you too have been wishing the chairman would finally shut the fuck up, but haven't expected anyone to say it out loud that boldly. You watch the male in front of you take out the slim roll from his mouth with his thick fingers that are covered with silver rings that all look different and not matching each other, blowing out the smoke whilst maintaining eye contact with you. “If you require, I can bring you a cigar, sir," you say, but he waves his hand to brush off your offer.

“Ah, they give me bad breath.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please," the man progresses instantaneously, scratching over the vertical scar at his lip-corner with his thumb, his ciggy continues to burn, "Do be so kind and give brother his ice," then smiles, "he needs to preserve his cold head.”

“You are one to talk about keeping mouths shut,” the ‘brother’ answers, voice velvety and adequate despite dissing the man that’s sunken unmannerly into his seat, while he, on the other hand, is sitting up straight, his black suit buttoned up, tie set cleanly under his ironed pearl-white collars, elegantly decorated by a golden pin. A Greek "π" is chiseled into it, and you recognize it so well for you’ve seen it written all over the tall buildings you drove by on your way here. His hair is combed evenly to the sides and the more you look at him, he’s just— wow, flawless, prestigious, expensive. Everything about him is crystal clear; his rich voice, his unblemished skin, his eyes, oh god, you just noticed those eyes, how does such a shameful man have such pure eyes?

Orbs— and they're not innocent as much as you can't say they're not guilty— are looking at you with a defiance that is suffocating, as if you ought to do everything perfectly, not miss a single twitch of his eyebrows to understand whether he's enjoying or disapproving of the situation.

Well, is he enjoying you or disapproving of the way you're listening to his partner's order to refill his ice?

Huh. No fucking idea. He probably doesn't, but you must do it still— must still serve.

It feels irrationally sheep-headed, but hey, being a sheep is your job, is it not? Being in this herd is keeping you alive, and even in this situation, where you are following the orders of the blackest of sheep, no, wolves that can't be covered by any fluffy wool— you must mow your best.

"Ohh, brother, it's been a while since I heard you talk! Feels lonely droppin' all the good sayings by myself."

You’re serving Choi San and CEO of PARA-conglomerate, headman Park Seonghwa.

Sat right across the chairman, the percentage this couple holds of his company-share is more than most of the attending seniors combined, which makes them stand at the top of the guest-list. You couldn’t have missed their names, even if you’ve made the attempt to, and the other information you’re getting is just your co-workers whispering hurried words to each other, and it seems to you that you may be more in need of them than ever.

You already eavesdropped on them a little, and to be honest, you didn’t need any real confirmation that everyone in this room was unlawful and corrupt, but it is good to know you really don’t have to feel guilty stashing those bankrolls into your purse.

The man that is licking the tail of his scar at his lip, rolling his neck, clicking with his mouth and tapping his fingers onto the table, he is rumored to be the boss of the Choi-Clan, the infamous ‘Mad Dog of Namhae’, whose face had been unknown. The chairman has made a drunken joke about allegedly trying to sell him off to the government— “everybody act like you don’t know, okay?”— and nobody had taken him seriously, but once the supposed mafiaboss had entered the room, an hour later than everyone else, and sat down comfortably like nothing was strange about his heavy breath and slightly purple knuckles, nobody dared to say something else.

If you’d heard beforehand that you would be meeting a CEO and a mafiaboss today, you don’t know if you would have acted any differently. Thinking, here comes the chairman, his jesters, the mafia-guy, the chaebol; ah, all the motherfuckers aligned, let’s get to work, shall we? 

But this does challenge you a bit, indeed. If they just weren’t so young and intimidatingly good-looking, fuck, you could have treated them in the same cookie-cutter way you’d been at perfectly.

Maybe a bit of change-up won’t hurt, you were starting to get a bit too irritated anyway.

"Control yourself."

“You wanna see him dead too, brother,” the smoking male sneers— you’ll call him ‘Mr. Choi’ for now— pointing at his companion to accuse him of being a yawner, his cigarette stuck between his fingers.

Headman Park smirks with a short twitch of his lips that makes you think you just imagined it, but none of his extremities has moved since you came here: Every single action he takes seems so... calculated, thought through, measured, planned out. He is the only one to have brought a briefcase to the dinner, and looks a little bit out of place with his sober expressions which seem to you as if he was observing the whole room in its possible entirety, not leaving out a corner in his sight uncovered.

"Want," he parrots, face dropped to a neutral visage, highlighting the only word that seems to be bothering the CEO regarding his vis-à-vis' statement, eyes darting down  to Mr. Choi having his fingertips pointed towards him.

"Don't you become pushy with the words now, brother," the mafiaboss teases him, and tugs his sleeves up to his elbows again, eyeing you up and down while you're passing him with your cart. You discern his interest in the pockets of your skirt, or what is there underneath, instantly, but before you can think that the man may be just the same as the others, he cracks his knuckles. “Old geezer might die on his own at this point, look at how he's smoking his raisin-lungs away."

"Poetic."

So much for hearing government and company secrets, here are these two joking about the chairman’s death. You need the chairman a little bit longer if you want to earn money, but the idea of him dying soon isn’t too bothersome.

"You gotta get used to my Korean way of speaking, brother! Then we can communicate correctly!”

With your ears sharpened, but your face presenting unconcerned, you devote yourself to headman Park to refill his bucket, ice cubes jangling down the iron jar, whilst Mr. Choi stretches his arms behind his head, raising an eyebrow towards his elder who isn't hearing him out.

“Thank you,” headman Park says, very briefly and precisely. The tong you put in the bucket for him to use almost tips, and you don’t know whether he does it on purpose for he’s been frozen still all during the dinner, but with his reflexes, he prevents it from falling before you can, but if that wasn't surprising enough, he grazes your skin while returning.

Soft, uncalloused; not a single ounce of labor roughed up these hands, it seems. They tickled you featherly, and right now, you are looking for some type of confirmation in those black spheres of his to know that you're allowed to exhale and react to his touch, because you gasped slightly and have held your breath ever since.

Nothing. You are the first one to look— no, shy away from his stare, getting your hands in front of your abdomen again, your fingers searching for each other, fiddling around by themselves without your knowledge. 

Mr. Choi lets his wrist-watched hand fall between his lap, neck tilted slightly to the back, licking over his canine tooth with a grin, and it appears to you that he's either noticed his associate's small gesture or how headman Park is still staring at you. “You wanna do something, don’t you, brother?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Mr. Choi shakes his head to irritate headman Park and make him explain himself.

“This is not business.”

Headman Park glances down his whiskey, droplets of water have formed around the brim of the cold glass. It is untouched. 

"I see you aren’t enjoying the whiskey, would you like something else to drink, sir?", you ask, trying to finish your job and get away from here before you get ideas that don’t include money between your thighs.

"The Fillico, please," the male answers, not having glanced away from your eyes once to inspect your cart, where the black, long bottle, donning a crown and wings adorned with Swarovski-crystals, awaits you to be grabbed.

"A glass of cold Fillico Black King!", you exclaim, your surprise of the particularity that anyone would drink water at the chairman's dinner can’t be hidden, and then hum, "Coming right up, sir."

“You’re really something, brother,” Mr. Choi wheezes, taking the last pull of his cigarette, watching you fill up a new glass for his unrelated brother with the finest mineral that can be bought to-date, pricing around 6 Billion Won, or 4500 US Dollars per bottle. “Wouldn’t you say it’s difficult to not be smokin’ or drinkin’ in this business, Y/N?”

Sure, whatever ‘business’ a man like him is talking about. “Yes, sir." Wait, hold on, did Mr. Choi just say your name? 

“You don’t look too impressed,” the male grins, seeing how you’ve narrowed your eyes in confusion.

"Pardon me, I was just– how do you know my name, sir?”

Mr. Choi shrugs as if to say ‘I dunno’ and presses his cigarette out on the table. It sizzles out, like your head is also slowly deteriorating. He throws the bud into the CEO's ice-bucket— headman Park is not even minorly irritated by it— and then, with his ringed fingers, goes through his hair, setting it loose behind his head. He’s picking on you, and you surely feel picked out, that's all you can think. It's so unusual to be hearing your name, not because it hasn't been said during the dinner, but because—

"Y/N Y/L/N, a pretty name for a pretty servant like you, huh?"

Your heart somehow flutters. A stalwart man like him taking your name into his mouth is nothing you hear on the daily. Deep, manly. It's not flattering, no, it sounds wrong, feels so dangerous for a guy like him to be taking something so personal and turning it into his possession, like you're slowly going to lose yourself in the words he speaks in a lax manner. Your name is precious to you, and it just drops off his tongue like it's candy. Where on earth does a man like him get your full name from?

"Sir," you insist, dipping your fingertip under your fingernail, fidgeting.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya prefer that stupid name ‘missy’,” Mr. Choi chuckles and fetches headman Park’s full glass of whiskey, his dialect draping out his mouth.

“Or do you secretly enjoy it," he grins, and with his eyebrows raised, Mr. Choi drinks up his acquaintance's booze in one big gulp, letting the glass fall down on the table with a thump, breathing out, "missy?”

People drink whiskey neatly, you know that. The guests have been doing it all evening, but that's for two ounces. Headman Park had a glass full of the oak-colored sherry liquid with an uncommonly high alcohol percentage placed in front of him. A taunt from the chairman maybe, to subtly scorn them about their apparent boyhoodish inexperience, but Mr. Choi makes it look so adept: The strong alcohol flows down his throat smooth and speedy, even though he did misplace the rim by an inch.

There's whiskey dripping down his chin as he glances over to his side, smirking at his neighbor who's blinking frozen, as well as the other guests, who are seemingly just as irritated that the mafiaboss got you as flustered as you look like.

You’re left with your mouth slightly open, shotting down a glass of whiskey shouldn't have looked as barbarous as Mr. Choi made it appear. Like a striking attack, baring his claws, he growls out the herby aftertaste. "'Scuse me, 'got really thirsty there."

The mafiaboss goes over his lips with his tongue, watching your hand play with the seam of your skirt, where he knows a handkerchief is buried in your pocket.

“Aw, shit, I got wet,” he wails over-dramatically, looking down on himself and then again locking his eyes into yours.

“Wanna clean me up, baby?”

“Pardon?”

Much to your continued bafflement, Mr. Choi smiles, and as he sees you taking a second to confirm what he said, he continues talking to you like you’re a hooker.

“Don't like that one, Y/N?” Again, with the name! Where does he get the name?!

“Sir, how—“

“You have introduced yourself to us,” headman Park finally reveals in the high Seoul tongue, perchance by pity, and you inhale, a bit embarrassed that you didn’t come to think of it earlier. What is happening to you? Is it because you’re finally away from those sleazes, that you’re being so light-headed? Lack of training? Sexual attraction? God, that’s a rookie’s mistake, Y/N, think about them as targets, not objectives. The objective is to not end up in a bed with them, remember? That’s like, rule number one. Even though nobody told you about the Mafia while you were at training, that’s a valid argument.

Don't let your guard down, you’re in a room with the men of men, no maybe the men. The most influential men you could be meeting in Seoul right now, aside from how little is known about them.

Whether he's a real chaebol or not, PARA-CEO Park Seonghwa is definitely the nephew of good ol’ chairman over there, just leeching off his money even if today is the first time the man is visiting his distant uncle who is definitely a bit sour about the fact he took so long to connect with him. Money has its sources and sometimes, most of the time, it’s nepotism. There you go, the explanation of his wealth and why the male is so well-mannered sitting on his seat. He’s woven into the conglomerate-family, been made CEO to keep him that way and all in all, you could care less about him, if he just wasn’t the only person that was kind of nice to you. Just thinking about his eyes makes you a bit dizzy, but you can get that fixed by turning your eyes to the mafiaboss.

Mafia and chaebol don't usually associate, for reasons that are rather obvious. Mafia’s rule the underworld with the overworld’s laws, and the chaebol rule over what laws the overworld decides on, digging their hands into the government like it’s soot, planting and pulling crops wherever they can profit from it. Money.

It’s sickening every time you think about it. How many people in this room could pay for your whole life? No, how many can’t pay for your whole life and beyond? You can count them with one hand and they’re all wearing the same clothes as you. 

Money knows where it belongs; that’s a phrase you made up the day you were told about the crippling debt by the letter and the bank declining your card. It sounds similar to your monks' sayings of water's ever-flowing life, but if water returns, money drifts. It wanders across the citizens, but follows a direction it's always bound to end up. Just like today, with you getting bankrolls to graze the inner space of your legs, only to know it’s going to end up in the same fingers that gave it to you.

So, where do headman Park and Mr. Choi get a say in this? Do they get a say in this?

“I did introduce myself, how could I forget? I’m sorry, sir,” you admit and let out a laugh that is half intended to sound as nervous as it did, and half regrettably filled with authentic uneasiness.

Old chairman, what does he know? Have those teeth really ever sunk into flesh? You can’t play with your fate here, but by hook or crook they intrigue you so much. You haven’t expected guests that aren't ass-kissers of the chairman, and apparently your talent only goes so far. You have no idea what to do with them to satisfy them except letting out your real thoughts and you can’t do that, definitely not in front of the man.

But you feel so connected to them. The caution everyone has, it confuses you just as much you're amazed by it, and you want that, you want that kind of safety. Every guest here has money, but not every guest has their authority.

“It’s alright, everybody makes mistakes, baby,” Mr. Choi smirks and musters you again, rubbing the liquid away from the corner of his lip with his thumb and kissing the remaining alcohol away, savoring every droplet of whiskey, but also savoring you by keeping his thumb leaned into his opened mouth, eyes looking sultrily at you, you might as well just—

“Mistakes, San. Beware of them,” headman Park falls in and his companion finally sways his eyes away from you, hand backing down. “Talkative drunkard.“

“Brother,” Mr. Choi sighs and grabs the glass from his neighbor that's filled with ice cubes to murmur, “I’m not that drunk," swinging it around with concise flicks of his wrist to enunciate his words.

With the couple bantering, you think you can calm down. Maybe you were overreacting. Bootlicking some birdbrains is a way easier life than to follow these two.

"Hey, baby?”, but there's another call of the bird of prey.

“Yes, sir?”, you answer, fingers letting go of your skirt that has thrashed your skin by how you abused it. You don’t even know when you started to react to the name 'baby', but truth be told it’s better than ‘missy’ by miles. Being over here is better than being over there by miles, that is unchangeable.

“Could you get me clean? This is kinda sticky."

With two fingers, he grabs the collar of his shirt and flails it softly, ice clinking in his glass, as he shows you his indeed quite syrupy breast.

"Yes, sir."

You nod towards the crevice that is the space where his muscles meet, and before your eyes can get lost in the plump thews, you collect yourself so you can do what you were asked for; getting your hands on his body.

“Please.”

“Ahh, I liked you more when you were quiet, brother! I don’t wanna call you a party-pooper, but c'mon! It’s your plan, and I’m just— doin’ my part.”

Mr. Choi twists his upper body a bit so he’s still able to hold the empty glass behind your back, though it feels more caging in than it should, when you lean forwards to softly tap his skin with your handkerchief. His arm hovers next to your hip and his upper body is extended wide around you.

“What do you say, baby?”, the male asks, and you harrumph to take your mind elsewhere from how rock-hard the mafiaboss feels under your hand, how his cologne smells so rich and inviting, and how— “Wanna be bitten?”

“Pardon?”, you ask, not understanding the context of Mr. Choi’s question, but without fail grasping the intentions of it.

The male grins, and you’re unsure as to how he got his hand on the bottle of whiskey from your tray as quickly as he did, but it’s there, in the hand that’s across your hip, and from then on, everything you do seems risky. His bicep is curled around your thigh so he can fill himself another glass, and if you take a step back, your ass will be pushed against his arm, but if you step forward, you’ll land on top of him; a straining dilemma that only inflames your guts the more you think about it.

“San,” headman Park grumbles quietly, seeing you struggle to stand on your feet.

“Agh, come on, brother, 's all going well! Live a little for me, will ya? Watch me and follow,” Mr. Choi nags with a juvenile pout and takes a disgruntled sip from his drink, making your imaginations reality by pushing you with his forearm with no forewarning. You trip closer to him and his arms raise, as you have to find safety on his shoulders to not fall into his crotch.

“Oops, ‘scuse me, baby,” he grins, feline eyes glancing up to you, your bust in his view. The other men are grumbling, fussy, yammering— if they knew, they would have done that with you a long time ago!— and in your head, you don't know whether you should be doing this at the chairman's dinner and not somewhere in a stripclub or just, god, anywhere else.

“It’s okay, sir,” is what you answer, and the short silence would be the perfect opportunity to scuffle back to your original stance, but you saw his ever-growing, throbbing bulge in his black suit-pants and it is staring you down.

Everything about him is so big…

“Really, baby?”, Mr. Choi asks, eyebrows pushed together, lips formed into a pout, feigning an expression of worry.

“Yes, sir,” you say, the big question of 'what is the goal here?' unnerving you, but with the quick, harsh movement of his leg against the back of your knee, you're—

“Sir!”

Sat on his thigh, your butt is bouncing on the hard flesh, fingers dug into his shoulders deeper due to the shock, ribcage moving up and down as you’re breathing fast and anxiously. At this point, you’ve gathered the attention of many who are seemingly more excited about the situation than you are, silencing all around, while the chairman continues to crack drunk jokes on the other side.

Mr. Choi chuckles at your nervousness and puts his glass down. “Aww, look at you, baby,” he coos, his rough, calloused fingers trailing between the inner space of your thighs that’s pushed into his leg. “Need a little break?”

As you sit there— securing yourself on the table, feeling his hand sit between your legs, you become lighter with each passing second, tingles being sent down your abdomen. Could Mr. Choi please stop smirking like that? It’s going to make you lose your mind, lose every thought of what you were trying to achieve at this table tonight.

“The chairman doesn’t allow breaks, sir,” you murmur, trying to cling onto the last sense of service you have, “I have to stay here.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper for the CEO in front of you to become curious, but loud enough for the mafiaboss to scoff and massage his hand deeper into your flesh.

“Sir, I really—“, you try to protest, but Mr. Choi uses his other finger to signal you to come closer to his face. You do as you’re told, his warm breath hitting your ear after you lean backwards.

“Baby,” he cackles, and his lips touch your earlobe, the smell of the smoke fading out his mouth.

“I practically own that wimp,” and Mr. Choi lets out a chuckle before his voice lowers an octave, “Let me own you, too.”

His tongue grazes over your sensitive skin as if he was a snake trying to convince you of eating the strange fruit, and you shudder forwards in surprise, his growl still vibrating in your ears.

You should get yourself together— yeah, that sounds like a good idea, if it just wasn't for the fact that this is exactly how you've been presenting yourself the whole evening. You're cornered, and not only by him, but your actions and it's, oh, old man, it's something. It's something that broadens the playground that was set out in front of you, something that gives you more to play, no, more to be played with.

The other guests are gawking already, forgetting about their prejudices when it comes to the 'youngsters', just happy to be seeing their missy in action.

The mafiaboss sighs, breaking his whispering and speaking louder than before. “But if you cherish so much about that old geezer, he’ll be taken care of, no? Maybe even better than before, or am I wrong here, brother?”

He clicks with his mouth— is it a habit?— and looks at headman Park, who rolls his eyes, as if they’re sharing some secret you’re not a part of. But before you can fall into further confusion, your legs tighten around Mr. Choi’s wristwatch, as his thumb strokes the surface under your skirt one time, right across your cunt which has been heating up since the first time you saw the reflection of yourself in his silver cross. A pant leaves your mouth and you have to grind your ass over so you can somehow clench your legs together.

“You like that?”, Mr. Choi sneers, chuckling into your ear, as he continues to move his thick finger against your clit. "Of course you do. Let me hear more of those cute sounds, baby.”

You grab his bicep, heat crawling up your abdomen against his forearm, your crotch feeling more and more buzzed as the male works his fingertip into you. Nobody says anything, just murmuring insignificant sentences to keep up the chatty mood.

Headman Park in the meanwhile, crosses his arms, catching the attention of the mafiaboss.

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

Mr. Choi flashes an eye-smile and keeps groping your cunt, you melting more and more into his lap and under the heated gazes of the crowd. Your servant-colleagues don’t know what to do, or no, maybe they knew exactly that this would happen and think you deserve all of this shame, just in general not helping you escape the touch of the mafiaboss.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything,” headman Park says, looking indifferent, but his words don’t cross out the possibility that inside his pants, his cock isn’t growing too, how his arms are crossed, clenched around each other.

“Come on, baby,” Mr. Choi growls into your ear, “give that fucking bore a show, won’t you?”

You’re split open. He’s strong, oh gosh, so strong, taking not more than one push to grab you by your thigh and spread your legs, make you slip on his crotch, as he closes his knees together to support you from down under.

“San,” headman Park warns, but his mouth stays slightly open, tongue pressed against the surface of his upper teeth, suppressing a grin.

You flatten your back against Mr. Choi’s torso as an attempt to hide your face behind his neck, and breathe heavily against his freckled skin, the cold exterior of his pearly accessory grazes your chin.

“What?”, the male asks, taking his glass, his arm slithering under your armpit and his chin resting on your shoulder as he sips from it, not to forget the hand that is still pushed into the now moist fabric between your legs, moving in circular motion.

Headman Park doesn’t answer and folds his hands together, placing his elbows on the table, fingers touching his lower lip.

“Geez, brother, you should feel this cunt right now,” the mafiaboss wheezes, almost hiccuping from his excitement, “so fucking hot, you won’t believe.”

“Make her louder.”

Even Mr. Choi was surprised to hear that come out of the reserved CEO's mouth, and as he chuckles and takes the last sip from his whiskey, he puts down his glass once in for all to accept headman Park’s order.

With a slight lean forward, his free hand wraps around your neck and you gasp for air. Mr. Choi’s legs are spread so when you have to tuck in your pelvis, you can feel his bulge under your cunt. At this point, you don’t care for the piercing gazes anymore, and the chairman might as well give you a nice tip for the sight of you grinding your wet pussy into his biggest investor’s clothed cock. You’re such a master profiteer, Y/N, Jongho was right.

“Fuck, missy,” Mr. Choi grunts and he’s so frustrated he can’t take off more of your clothes, but it doesn’t prevent him from following the order when headman Park mutters, “grab her breasts.”

It is one shameless show.

You becoming needy and whiny on Choi San’s lap, the mafiaboss grinning, as CEO Park Seonghwa’s eyes are unmoving from your sullen, aroused expressions— it has persuaded the audience to want their own slice of fun, but even with hands wrapped around their no-use cocks, everybody in the room has their eyes sealed on the young servant whose only job was to refill some ice.

Mr. Choi can feel it; what a slut you are on top of him, how eagerly you’re grinding your cunt over his bulge, and how jealous the others are watching— and this includes all the blokes that are watching with cigars in their mouths, but also the servants that would have gladly taken your seat and not rub their hands over old, moist, wrinkly skin.

“Sir,” you whimper, as Mr. Choi knobs your breasts, his tough hands cupping each tit, just like headman Park commanded him.

Fuck, how he wishes to be able to see your face as well as well as headman Park does, but the sobby whines might as well do.

“So noisy on my cock,” Mr. Choi snarls, “you’re practically begging for attention, missy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you hiss and the mafiaboss inhales sharply, gasping, his cock jumping, very turned on by your sudden spunky tone. Bingo.

“Did you hear that, brother?”, he whales, tempting the headman to interact with him more as the main viewer of his performance, but the man to his friend is only raising an eyebrow. “Baby's got some zest in her. You like that, don’t you?”

Mr. Choi continues to coo headman Park into defeat, “You like ‘em feisty, brother. I know you, chief execution officer, sir. You wanna ram your cock into this little missy's pretty mouth, just admit it.”

Little missy's pretty mouth. "Say that again, shitbag," you hiss, but Mr. Choi grins and pries into your bust, working folds into your freshly-ironed shirt. "Listen, brother," he breathes, "It gets your cock fucking going, doesn't it?"

The mafiaboss chuckles and adds, so only you can hear it, "Definitely gets my cock going, baby."

Headman Park scans the room, and you can see how he shakes his head, and looks at Mr. Choi with a slight distaste. “You may leave soon.” 

“Really?”, Mr. Choi grins, beaming, grabbing your hips forcefully in the joy of it, and while the CEO’s words leave you misled, you sigh into the pressure of being pressed down deep into his muscled thigh, your cunt pulsating through his flesh.

“Change of plans.”

“Alright," he murmurs, just as offended as you are by his lack of reactions, but quickly catching up on his lust to hear, see, feel you more. "But not before I make this baby come."

“Punster,” headman Park jeers and it does occur to you that you’re hearing more of his soft voice than before, but when he looks at his wristwatch, you suppose you’re not doing well enough for him. Look at me, you rich-ass prude, you think and whine, being moved across Mr. Choi’s thigh by his own hands. Your clit feels hot, like it is seriously going to burn and fall off, but you, fuck, feel so good; the sounds just keep leaving your mouth, your high approaching very soon.

“How long were you thinking, brother?”, Mr. Choi asks and is nibbling at your neck, as he rams you over his thigh, fighting with the pace you're breathing wispy and digging your nails more and more into the glass-table until your fingertips turn white.

"Five.”

“Five? Make it ten.”

“You only last ten?”

“You can be such a bully, brother,” Mr. Choi fleers, and you have no fucking idea what they’re talking about, since you are feeling your orgasm coming in less than a minute, stars appearing in front of your eyes. “Make it ten.”

The male takes note of how you're bucking in your pelvis and uses his canine teeth to make your neck flame on, his hand placed roughly around your throat, as you become more sensitive to every move. "Sir," you whisper, a knot forming in your stomach.

Your clit is begging you for mercy at this point, demanding you to get the clothes off your legs so your slick has some way to escape, but you're drenching Mr. Choi's suit-pants in your wetness with stuttered heaving, ready to moan loudly in any second now if you could just find that one fucking spot—

"Are you gonna cum, baby? Right in front of everyone?", he murmurs against your neck and you nod repeatedly, raving your clothed clit on his thick, pillowy muscle, desperately chasing your high. "Come on," he snickers, "Show them what kind of slut missy is, huh? Such a good fucking slut for us, aren't you?"

"Yesyesyes," you whine, not caring for anything than your release, and Mr. Choi is being so kind as to continue breathing heavily into your ear to make you melt into bliss, but nothing gets you on more than the gentle smile that headman Park is sending your way, head slightly tilted to the back— is he nodding? Is he finally approving? Oh, fuck, you think, and you're doing the best job darting your hips non-stop to continue feeling your cunt be stroked by Mr. Choi's flesh, pursuing the CEO's praising acknowledgment. "Good fucking slut on my lap," the mafiaboss cackles, "come for daddy."

"You fucking weirdo," you falter, not wanting to call him "I'm never gonna call you—

Mmmuh!" Mr. Choi grabs you by your hair and tugs it harshly, making your back arch and your head rotate to his side. In the open mouth, his tongue plunges into your throat, the taste of woody herbs and bitter alcohol are flooding your tastebuds. Smearing all of your lipstick, his mouth is pressed against yours like he's sealing yours shut. You convulse your lower body in surprise of the sudden act and holy shit, get that one spot over your clit that's also stroking your gaping entrance, your body releasing all of its heat into one blaring, roaring zap, with your eyes rolling back your head, your stirred voice screaming, "FUCK!"

There is a gasp heard through the dining hall and you're not sure whether it was the chairman, a servant, or headman Park in front of you, but as you are spasming on Mr. Choi's thigh and your back arches to his chest, you feel like the world is expanding on you, peeping, intrusive onlookers cramming out their money to thank you for the show they got, white trickling through the linen of their underwear. 

Coming down from your high, weakened and all the while more aroused by the mafiaboss whispering the words "good girl" into your ear, you try to open your eyelids to catch headman Park putting on some black leather-gloves he got from his briefcase, muttering something under his breath to the mafiaboss.

“Go."

What the fuck?

Mr. Choi hooks his arm under your legs while he re-applies his lips to yours, and lifts you up like the pretty princess you are to most of the gawkers that don't stop watching, when he stands up.

Everybody has their eyes on the kiss the mafiaboss and servant missy are sharing, but headman Park doesn’t even look at you, when his partner starts carrying you to the elevator that's waiting for you at the wall about in the middle of the dining table, and just retrieves his open briefcase from the floor. Has he had enough of you already?

“Where are we—“, you breathe, but Mr. Choi kisses you silent, tongue forcing its entry, preventing you from figuring out what's happening, after the mafiaboss puts you down in front of the door and pushes you against the frame roughly. Cheering and hooting encourages him to continue rubbing his thumb over your skin as the other ringed fingers are holding your thigh, and you're pressed against his leg, virtually fenced in by Mr. Choi while he pushes the button for the lift to come.

His eyes are squinting to the side while he works his lips against you, in a way confirming that all of the guests (except the CEO) are begrudgingly anticipating the next actions of the mafiaboss, not caring how the headman is slowly pushing his seat away from the table to get more leg-space, which you seem to be the only person noticing it.

The golden door opens with a bell dinging the elevator’s arrival, and Mr. Choi grabs you by your ass, leading the way inside it. You can't see it correctly with your eyes closed, can only feel his big arms push into your frame, but he even makes for a show-like exit, burlesquely saluting the audience with two fingers, clicking with his mouth. It must really be a habit, you think, and giggle into the kiss.

The men attempt to throw bankrolls into your space and some succeed, some don't, but while you're glad your plan worked out, you aren't too sure what you've just done with, or for the mafiaboss.

Your heated kiss continues and because you want to feel him, you unbutton his shirt that doesn’t need that much working, three buttons being pushed open by your jellylike hands. Before you can unclothe him though, Mr. Choi pushes his arm against the mirror next to your head, stopping you to take a look at his wristwatch. He strokes his hair to the back with the other hand, revealing some of his meaty abs, and once he’s reached the backside of his head, he slides his fingers down his neck and around his Adam's apple to scratch it, announcing, “Ten minutes on the clock. Shit, brother's dick must be fucking exploding in his pants right now."

“Sir?”, you ask, overwhelmed by the words that are not making sense in your head, but also distracted by his hand that’s around your tie.

“Given he really could've finished in five but,” he yanks you towards his face. “I wanted to have you a bit more for myself, missy.”

He smiles, very arrogantly like the patronizing fuck he is, like he knows how strong he is, what a dominating aura he possesses, but at this point, in between the mirrors and on this black, marbled floor, you are not at the chairman’s dinner anymore, aren’t a servant anymore– you aren’t bound to any authority, are you?

“If you fucking call me ‘missy’ again, I’ll bite your fucking dick off.”

Except for the moment that you’re talking to him, a mafiaboss, whose breast is marked by— and you can see it very clearly now for it fits perfectly into yours— hands that have shared the same, if not a similar experience with you.

“How’d you know I was into biting, baby?”

And holy fuck, his back looks even crazier.

“God, sir,” you breathe out in awe and a little bit of fear. You can count the lines of red scratches on his back and as you finally let his shirt fall from his shoulders, the reflection of his muscles, how they relax under your touch. You become starstruck. Everything about him is so scarring, but fuck, how it attracts you, the wildness, the savagery— there’s something so free about him.

"What, baby? You like what you're seeing? How naughty..."

Ten minutes aren’t a lot, but Mr. Choi makes his best attempt to hurry over the trivial parts of fucking you. He steps closer, your ass hitting the handrail, legs crossing together, and your buttons pop in one rip, as his two hands rupture your blouse open. He lets his shirt drop to the floor, all the while his lips clash against the nook of your neck, making you sigh under the luminous lights of the elevator and grab his neck. You’re getting hazy, horny; damn, it’s been so long you’ve had a good fuck. Satisfactory sex is another luxury you were postponing for later.

With his lips sewn on your shoulder, kissing and forcing his tongue against a spot he deems especially tasty, the half-naked male unzips your skirt to finally reveal the black pantyhose that looks soaked in your slick. After he chuckles at the sight of it, Mr. Choi licks over his lips and cups your jaw with his hand, drawing a trail of insatiable kisses across your skin.

“Still wanna bite my dick off?”, he asks with a sly smirk, breathy, having caught your aroused look locked on his silver chains, his jacked upper body inviting you to get your mouth in there until it’s molded around your teeth.

“Come on, baby,” the male provokes you, “You think I’m gonna fuck you just like this? Think I’m gonna ram myself inside your cute fucking cunt ‘cause I’m such a big scary fucking man?”

You inhale sharply. “N- no, I…”, you breathe out, letting your tongue run over your teeth.

“Aw, baby, am I making you shy?”, Mr. Choi hoots, “I didn’t think you were a shy one. You were pretty noisy on my thigh for your cunt, weren’t you? Getting all the sounds out for brother to hear them… You really served a show there, baby.”

Your mouth only lets out stammered gibberish– you have never learnt how to talk dirty, but Mr. Choi uses your opened lips to ram his tongue into it again anyway, and you're almost proud to say you've gotten used to it.

He breathes rashly through his nose, and he tastes less of bourbon but more of dulcet desire, mixed in with the red of your lipstick sitting on his lip. Your knee strokes his erection while he gets his hands behind your back to get your bra off, lips clashing and raving against each other. “Letting your body talk for you?”, Mr. Choi husks, panting at having his overstrained cock touched. He relieves you from the pressure around the bust and continues to ramble. "I knew I could have a lot of fun with you the second I laid my eyes on you.” You pant and reunite your lips with his. "Little missy, such a whore for the rich."

He’s overconfident he’s seeing right through you, it infuriates you. Mr. Choi massages his hands into your breasts, the cold rings grazing sharply into your warm flesh, and as your knee is still between his crotch, you huff. You can be a whore for the rich when you’re earning money, but right now, you’re doing things for your own pleasure.

“Are you going to have a lot of fun with me?”, you sing-song in a high-pitched female voice to the mafiaboss that’s immediately taken aback, and you know the word 'missy' is on top of his tongue again, when you interrupt him with a quick jab of your knee into his groin. "Shit-eating fat-cat."

Mr. Choi grunts, head tilting down. His feline eyes meet your foxy ones, and while you weren't preparing for a staredown, the mafiaboss smirks and bites his lip. 

He has a lot to say, you can see it. There’s something glimmering under the lust-drunken layer behind his eyes, and it’s deep, goes deeper, but for some reason, the mafiaboss, who just so despicably couldn’t hold his mouth, doesn’t let out the words that’s crossing his mind.

“Sir–” 

Wrong deduction.

Mr. Choi scowls in laughter, and you guess he meant to joke with you, but he means to play with you much more, when he, once again, lifts you up, by your waist this time, and balances you on the handrail.

Resting his forearm on your thighs to stabilize you, Mr. Choi digs in his pocket to fetch his cigarette box, looking at himself through the mirror and shaking some strands out of his face. "Shit-eating fat-cat," he repeats with a lisp, pulling out one of the slim rolls with the corner of his mouth, and he continues to chuckle, as he glances at you through his eyelashes, "you should've said that to the old geezer when you had the chance to, baby."

"The chairman?"

No answer. Mr. Choi lights his cigarette with a zippo, and keeps it lit in his mouth, as he, with no forewarning, tears open your pantyhose from your crotch with both of his hands, spreading your legs wide. You have to get your hands around his head to be able to keep yourself on the handrail.

“Why do you look so scared? Think I’m gonna fuck you?”, he lisps. “I’m just taking a good look, baby. What a pretty cunt you got there, baby.”

You gulp. Mr. Choi slides his index finger across your heated folds through the fabric and your cunt clenches together, wanting to be filled up. “Sir,” you sigh, and the mafiaboss pulls in smoke from his cig, raising an eyebrow.

“What, baby? ‘You need something?”, he asks, “You’re not a fucking servant anymore, or do you need to be ordered around, missy?”

You try to look angry, but Mr. Choi only pouts and presses his finger through your panties, soaking them in your slick that’s gathered at your entrance. “Desperate to please the money-man? So wet for him…”

“Fuck you,” you mewl, but Mr. Choi knows what he’s doing when he thumbs your clit and exhales smoke into your face, hiding his face for a short second which gives you confidence. “I need you… to fuck me.”

“What did you say, baby? I couldn’t hear.”

“Please, sir, just… fuck me, please…”

“Louder.”

“God! Just fuck me! Didn’t you say we have ten minutes? Make them fucking count!”

“There we go, baby. My slutty little missy. Oh, baby, you’re growing on me, brother’s gonna hate that.” 

You huff and Mr. Choi slides your panties off your legs, taking a short glimpse at his wristwatch. “Damn, ten’s really a short time.”

How many minutes have passed? Ten already? You know you said it, but you mentioned it only because it made sense, if you’re honest, you have no clue what the time is worth for. Aren't these the men who have time for gold?

The biting smell of tobacco enters your nose, making you cough out loud. Is smoking even allowed in the elevator? Wait, wait, wait, no, maybe you should worry about other things, for example what you're going to do when those ten minutes are over, when all of this is over. They clearly have some type of plan and thing they are carrying out right now, but you don’t know how much you’re invited in there. 

Mr. Choi finishes his quick break, inhaling one last puff and keeping his cig between his lips again, and his hands unbuckle his belt in silence, while you contemplate.

Clanking, ruttling, and steps begin to thump behind the door— have any of you two even pressed a button? The mafiaboss looks concentrated, fixed on your cunt, taking out his throbbing, panging cock out his underwear, stroking it a few times to god, fuck, finally get to touch it after having been dry-humped hot.

Squelching, huffing, and voices echo through the floor— is that the chairman you hear? You can only yelp, when Mr. Choi drags off your panties and slathering his thick fingers across your folds in one, then penetrating with another forceful movement.

"Fuck!", you hiss out, grabbing the handrail next to your hips, trying to balance yourself on it still. The mafiaboss snickers into your ear, and tours through your cunt, all the while it appears that all hell is breaking loose outside.

BANG!

"Sir, what—!"

"Shhh, baby," Mr. Choi hushes you, and takes out his cig with the fingers that are now glistening with your wetness, placing it on top of his lips vertically to the scar that is accompanying his smug smirk.

BANG!

"You got nothin' to worry 'bout, baby," he lulls, "we're just eatin' the pheasant and the egg here," and exhales smoke into your face out his mouth-hole, which distracts you from the third, fourth—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another proverb, pheasant and the egg— 'two birds with one stone'. Mr. Choi unfolds his hand as if he was counting the minutes, or the shots— wait, yes, shots! Fuck, those are gun-shots, right? You've never heard something so loud ever in your life, where does someone get guns from in South Korea? What even would they need guns for? Why would they use them? What the fuck is happening outside?!

"Oh, fuck!", you moan out, before fear and realization can crawl up your scalp and take away your lusting for the male, Mr. Choi has jerked his hip up, his cock gliding into you smoothly as if your cunt was made for him, the length and girth perfectly curling inside. Your back arches, at least as far as you can arch it, and he grins bemusedly at your jolted reaction.

BANG!

With every blast that follows, Mr. Choi is thrusting into you, first slowly, but then adding more speed and vigor as he goes, or as the blasting goes, making you shakily watch yourself be wrecked by the broad man through the reflection on the other side, your legs dangling with his rough movement.

You don't know how he's fucking you through your tightness, because with each ducking of his hips it feels like your inner walls are expanding more and ungodly more, as if he was piercing you in half.

Small puffs of smoke leave Mr. Choi's mouth each time he pants out raspy "oh baby"s and loud claps of him slapping your ass overtone the screaming, scrambling noises outside, as you two work your lower bodies against and into each other, growing more passionate, throbbing feverishly.

"Fuck, baby," Mr. Choi hisses, cigarette tilting in his mouth, as his face frowns together. "So fucking good for daddy, aren't you? So fucking tight and wet, such a good fucking girl—"

The screams outside are dying down, but the mafiaboss and you are getting louder, breathier, lustier; with your head falling backwards, hitting the mirror, the twisting feeling of fear and the ecstasy to be bouncing on Mr. Choi's big cock mix up like one hellish drink, boiling and churning inside of you.

Smashing both his hands on each of you ass-cheeks to dig his fingers into them and get more stability to ram into you so fast, and oh boy, it's so fucking fast, you're going to spiral— Mr. Choi sputters, "Are you gonna come? Are you going to come for daddy, baby? Greedy baby gonna take daddy's huge fucking load?"

The male is unraveling, his once low, stable voice turning into a whiny, hoarse, cracked mess just like you, practically urging, begging you to finally take the name ‘daddy’ into your mouth.

"Come on baby, say it for me, huh? Feels good to be my slut?", he disentangles, "Be a good slut for daddy, baby."

"I'm not gonna call you— that, fuckhead!", you moan, though your insides are curdling together to finally be released, the knot tightening with each drop of sweat that is forming on your boiling face.

"Really? Think you can afford to misbehave, baby?", Mr. Choi snickers and spits his cig on the floor, your ass being handled at an insane speed, his cock slipping in and out of you with rough ease. He takes it upon himself to dig his teeth into the nook of your neck, biting you heftily, your pulse knocking against your throat, as you feel his cock run in and out of your cunt. Your head goes light and dazed, but before you can gasp out your high from being fucked, bitten, sent to bliss, the male sinks you deep into his cock fully, it does not give you the last thrust you would need to—

"Fuckfuckfuck, I'm gonna cum," you whimper, needing to tremble, but unable to move because his hands are restricting you from any movement, and you continue to bring out a string of weak "pleasepleaseplease" that bounces back from the mafiaboss, who is raising an eyebrow, waiting for the magic word to be spoken out of your wet lips. Tears have formed at the corner of your eye and he thumbs it away, grinning coyly.

"Fuck you, I'mnotgonna fucking, ugh—!", you sob, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Aww, you wanna hate daddy so bad, don’t you?”

“Fuuuck you!” Whines leave your mouth, wanting to cum, wanting to move, wanting for Mr. Choi to continue fucking into you and not wipe away your tears.

“Just say you love me, baby,” he heaves and returns his hand to your hip.

Thrusting into you once with a clap against your groin, to make your cunt clench around him, and then twice with the last blood-curdling BANG! from outside, his cock is deep inside you. He feels you tighten, pulsate, craving to be released, but Mr. Choi will not move again to your liking until you finally let go of yourself, which riles you up with no hope.

"F— Fuuuck, okay!", you scream out, annoyed, angry, wanting to fucking cum; "Daddy!", you sob and Mr. Choi smirks, instantly getting to work to toast the adieu of your pride. Thumb on your clit, he circles around your sensitive bud to double the tension you feel through all of your body, while you gutter, "fuck me, daddy, please, make me cum, please, daddy, please—"

He laughs, no, howls— elated, animated, drunk, and then, with his strong, buff fucking arms, pounds you into his cock like a punching bag, your ass hitting his pelvis so many times until you have to use his gelled hair as a last resort to hold yourself up and not push yourself from the handrail with your head against the mirror, but he holds you, holds you steadily in his grip.

"Good god, good fucking missy, such a good fucking slut for me, cum all over my cock–   all over my fucking cock, baby," Mr. Choi grunts, and the string that was keeping you balanced snaps, your orgasm hitting you like that makes your insides tighten around the mafiaboss and his throbbing girth, your whole body being flushed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure which you drink up whole. His cockhead rubs against your sweetspot, you riding out the high while seeing nothing but bliss.

"Holy fuck," you breathe, and your fingers grip into the thick skin of his back, and with Mr. Choi's hips not stopping to hit your pelvis, there are additional, injuring, deep red marks on there with every thrust. You’re scratching him like a beast wanting to tear up its prey, but the beast is fucking into you like there’s no tomorrow. His cock does not stop grazing against your deepest spot, tears rolling down your heated cheek, and your mouth is unable to get out the words you want it to when you get the feeling that he's going to cum soon.

"O- out," you warn him, but the mafiaboss makes a disappointed face, “I– I really can’t afford a child, p-please pull out–!”

He draws his eyebrows in, scoffs and looks you deep in the eyes, his muscular body tucked in, murmuring, rambling out his whiskey-painted throat, “Is that really your only problem, baby? That you don’t have enough money?” His forehead leans against yours and your eyelids flutter open– you are being a mitt around his dick– and he pouts in pity, his iron cross hanging from his chest, as he talks to you.

Mr. Choi gets his hand flat on your lower belly and presses down on it, feeling himself bulge inside you. He moves his hips slowly, his cockhead dragging across your sweetspot, while he gutters, “you’d look so sexy as a mother, don’t you think, baby? With the tummy and all.”

“S- sir, please I–”

"Come on, do you think I don’t have enough money to pay for a fucking kid? God, how fucking annoying– I’m not that kind of man, baby,” Mr Choi growls, his voice vibrating against your cheek, as he charges his forehead deeper against yours, “I still got some honor.”

You shake your head, unsure whether there are pills for after in the pharmacies, or whether the mafiaboss will really be there to be with you as he promises, but Mr. Choi continues to beg in his low breathy, guttery voice. “Baby,” he rumbles, pressing even harder on your abdomen, your ass being pushed into the handrail that you’re sure it’s going to leave one red straight mark, and his cock is almost exploding from the edge, “Let me, no, let daddy cum into your tight cunt, baby, please.”

God, he wants you. He wants you so bad, doesn’t he?

"Y- you should see yourself," you chuckle, stroking over Mr. Choi's gelled hair, and his head tilts up a little bit as your fingers get tangled in his black locks, the white of his eyes making him look like a wild dog waiting for its treat. "F-fucking do it, you fucking slut."

"Fuck, baby," he laughs, out of breath, "You’re really a price."

Mr. Choi hammers his hips into you, until the stars in front of you all look like wishes falling from the sky. Both of you feel it, how his cock just feels so right, fits in like your cunt is a fucking glove which is full and getting even fuller.

"God, fuck," Mr. Choi grunts from the bottom of his throat, his hot cum lading into you, and it's like your lower body is melting with it, becoming heavier with every drop he's unloading inside.

"Take all of my fucking cum," he husks and your faces clash together for one finishing wild kiss. Mr. Choi sucks on your lower lip, as he fucks his ejaculation deeper and deeper into your hole with slow thrusts, until he bucks up his pelvis the last time and moans out a raspy, “perfect fucking missy with a perfect fucking cunt..."

Ding!

For a man that uses his mouth so sparingly, his tongue surely works wonders.

"Sir, are you—"

Headman Park has entered the elevator without a word, pulling off his leather gloves, and with Mr. Choi stepping away, he has all the place he requires to get on his knees and throw your leg over his shoulder, his wet and warm muscle delving into your throbbing cunt. You've been bereaved of the time to inspect what was behind or around him when the door closed, but maybe that's irrelevant anyways. What is relevant, is how impatient, but also how careful the CEO remains, and how he still tries his best to slowly sift his tongue into your folds, feeling every inch of your wetness. He’s been dying to do this.

"Fuck, sir!"

"Please," the CEO chuckles, hastily pulling the black leathery from his hands to put it back in his briefcase that he's been carrying, but he doesn't miss your cunt once, purling over your clit and glancing at you. "Call me Seonghwa, princess."

You could cum right here and there, just at the sight of this pretty man looking up to you, who has laid out his first name and put it into yours, scream it out loud until everyone hears what a princess you've been made of.

Princess. You knew his eyes were different, but you didn’t know they saw the world differently too. Oh, how you wish you could see more of his world.

"Aww, what? That's why you're still a foreigner in our country, brother! 'Can't be dropping our titles," Mr. Choi huffs and lights himself a second cigarette, filling the elevator with smoke and tobacco. How his breath really doesn't smell is questionable to you.

Just like you, the CEO, or how you're allowed to call him now— Seonghwa, ignores his partner's words, laps over your clit with his tongue, gently easing into your cunt with his clean fingers, and your soft sighs are like a reward for him, for whatever he's done outside.

"Respect, brother, 's all about respect..."

You tighten your thighs around Seonghwa's neck. The charcoal-haired has closed his eyes, sighing into the taste of you, and you are flawlessly overlooking the loud mafiaboss, just completely concentrating on the commitment the CEO is eating you out with. His head fits magically between your legs, he works his fingers so flawlessly into you, this must be fate— and if it's not, you're going to make it your future in any which way possible. You're falling. No, flying; never coming down.

"Seonghwa," you whine, and your hand glides over the hooked male's forehead, his hair feeling smooth under your touch as he presses his tongue slowly— in circular motion— against your clit to keep you on the high, but not in a way that would make you trip over.

"Mmf," the mafiaboss in front of you huffs, clearly attracted, enticed by the way you've exhaled the other male’s first name, scratching his temple with the fingers that are holding his cigarette.

"Whether you wanna call me San or 'daddy', baby," the scarred male, no, San, the fucker grins, "I'm gonna be hearing both either way."

"Fuck—", you moan out, having to take a breath because of how Seonghwa has curled his fingers into you with his tongue ready to shovel anything into his mouth that comes out, "you, fuckhead!"

The CEO is giggling a bit, finding your tone very amusing— and he tries to tell you this by looking up and slanting his eyes a friendly way, no, a way that you've never even conjured up the fantasy to perceive him, the cold-faced Park Seonghwa who hasn't drunk a drop of alcohol tonight. What pureness in a man...

"I liked 'fat-cat' better,” San snickers and goes through his hair that definitely needs combing, turning around and looking at himself through the mirror, though his eyes squint towards Seonghwa's reflection on the other side, now again lost in your cunt, taking off his jacket and folding it in half behind his back.

"Brother, you're eating my cum, by the way," the mafiaboss jabs, puffing out smoke while he's decidedly getting hard again in his trousers. San really can't hide his emotions on his face, can he? His lips are pursed, eyebrows slightly pulled in— how obvious. The man is jealous and doesn't want to admit it, you're sure of it.

"Shut up," you hiss, having become a bit comfortable with teasing the frustrated, outwitted mafiaboss. Ten minutes were definitely too little for him, but you've already rid his thigh, let him cum inside, and Seonghwa is simply too good with his tongue right now.

"Fuuuck," you whisper, and feel every drowsy twirl of his finger inside you, but it's slow, so slow, Seonghwa is swerving around every sponginess inside you, savoring the contraction of your inner space, and how your muscles tighten, when he licks over your clit, he enjoys this; enjoys you.

And so it continues, Park Seonghwa exploring every detail of your cunt as if he's a sommelier tasting the rarest of fluids, appreciating every drop that lands on his tongue, his fingers making sure that they don't go to waste.

"Shit," San comments, "I should've eaten her out, too."

The CEO is not cocky about it, about the way you are grabbing into his hair and squirming, how he has to slightly lift you up so you don't fall from your position. And then, when Seonghwa thinks your taste has perfectly coated his palate, speeds up.

"Fuck, sir," and the title slips out of you, like a habit you can't change for good when you feel so small. The CEO between your legs doesn't mind it though, at least doesn't say anything on it and just lets his fingers hit your sweet spot until there is a distinctive "Seonghwa" leaving sighed out your lips.

"I'm going to—", you announce, but the male has been long aware of it, preparing himself more access by bending his upper body to angle himself across your cunt, giving his partner a better view on how you glisten in arousal.

San in front of you is standing frozen, with his cigarette slowly burning out in his mouth, and you recompense the lack of his cock in your cunt by moaning louder, so your voice can vibrate around his erection. He grins and gets a tongue to his canine tooth, naked upper body still glowing in sweat, muscles shining, cock twitching every time he hears you breathe, and breathe more intensely, "make me cum, Seonghwa, please!"

"I knew you would taste delicious," Seonghwa murmurs, silently, rather for himself, and this must be how he sounds when he's drunk, because he is so high on your taste, "but this is ambrosial, princess."

You curl up your pelvis, and Seonghwa holds you by your hips, as his tongue picks up in speed, drawing out every word he hasn't spoken tonight on your labia, stamping them into your clit, all the while his fingers row in more and every last drop.

"C- coming~", you purr, and your eyes close down, your hands deep in Seonghwa's scalp, exhaling the weight of your worries, that flushes down into the man who seems to have none in his life, and he breathes into your hot cunt through his nose, not letting go of it until he's made sure that your hips tremble around his head. "P- please, f- fuck, fuck, feels so good—"

Pumping the remaining come into you, Seonghwa licks up your cunt and kisses your clit until you go completely flaccid, your arms giving in, but Seonghwa catches you by your hand, kissing your thigh with his swollen pink lips.

With your body relaxed, your ass feels a bite sore, having been prodded into the iron rail for so long. You grab into Seonghwa's hand and try to push yourself up, but ultimately fail at getting yourself into a more comfortable position.

"San, hold her."

"Huh?", he asks, "'Need something more snuggly, baby? Or what did you call her again, brother?"

"Princess," the CEO answers immediately and you have to suppress a girly giggle, as Seonghwa turns his head around, lips still pressed against your thigh. He presumably sends San an admonitory look to hurry up, and gets up from his knees.

The mafiaboss shrugs, not offended by being ordered around. He puts out the cigarette against the mirror and cracks his neck by rolling his head around, his thick neck dousing into your sight as he does so. He's so intimidating, you think, but he's on his way to coast those monster-arms behind your back, hands down to each of your hamstrings to, "up you go," pick you up like real royalty. The giggle escapes your mouth but you don't feel the slightest embarrassed nor do you have a reason to be. You are sunken deep into San’s cushiony arms— his muscles make for a great seat, and hovering, air hitting your hot cunt, as your legs spread for the CEO in front of you when you fall into the elbows. You yelp, but the giggles just keep coming, making San in the mirror in front of you wink at you, cackling, "you like that, princess?"

Seonghwa smiles, satisfied by your enjoyment of this position and approaches you once more. "I have yet to kiss you, Y/N," he says with his sweet voice, and his gentle hands find your chin and waist, your eyes blossoming open for him to stare into.

Even San shuts up now, and you suppose he is too taking part in the beauty that is the embrace of you and Seonghwa; two sets of lips, crazing each other, meeting for one flowery affair, breathing out small vapors of life. You can taste yourself, which means that Seonghwa is fully consumed by your aroma.

God, you think again, your cunt tingling at how Seonghwa tugs at his tie, pulling it side to side as he kisses you— the golden 'π'-pin clanks shrill to the floor— everything about Seonghwa is so...

Clean?

You are inhaling the mellow smell of his satiny skin, and the CEO unbuttons his shirt with proficient, skilfull flicks of his fingers. He is so handsome, handsomely pretty, and even when it’s drenched in your fluids, his skin shines on its own, like Seonghwa has a light shining within. Once you can see his bare chest and get lost on the smooth surface, your eyes dive down, admiring his slim, yet very muscular physique.

Seonghwa gets his tie and drags off his shirt by tugging at one sleeve with his hand, the white fabric revealing the rest of body with one clean pull that matches one of the curtains.

"W-", and you have to jump back with your head to get the full spectacle that's presented in front of you, exhaling in awe— "Wow.."

"Not so blank, our brother, is he?", San chuckles from behind of you and lowers his head to press his chin against your temple, surveying the same sight.

Two colossal, monstrous dragons, red and black, are colliding, looped, entangled all around Seonghwa's right arm, fighting for dominance on his skin. The raven hydra has its jaw wide open where Seonghwa looks to his shoulder with a rather shy smile once he sees your reaction, baring its teeth towards his heart, while the crimson dragon ends at the CEO's wrist, sitting on top of his pulse.

"Would you believe me it was brother's idea, baby?"

"As if," Seonghwa murmurs, folding his shirt into a square.

San chuckles again, re-shuffling himself and pressing your back close to his stomach, granting the back of your head to rest at his collarbone. "I asked her if she would believe, brother."

You watch the delicate lines, the elegant strokes of tint meeting on his skin, but while your first impression made you believe they carried a certain viciousness with their svelte bodies, the second sight presents you a different image of two forces maneuvering into each other as a reminder that they both co-exist as supreme. It's not one another they're reviling against, it's the bearer of the both who is threatened by their fangs. Their existence is a warning reminder, but also a sign of pride.

"I believe it's... beautiful."

“Aw, you’re so sweet, baby.”

You haven't seen many tattoos in your life, none in the mountains, and even in the city the only observable tattoos were those of the sleazy guys in alleys that wait when you're done with your job to gape at your uniform. They got tigers and other animals roaring on their bodies to hide the fact they don't have the fighting skills to keep up, but for Seonghwa, a CEO, to have this amount of ink under his skin is a commitment and to imagine he’s hiding that under his ironed shirt and black jacket, no, that you are seeing it right now, it’s… You’re overwrought, steamed up, aflame.

"Wanna touch it, baby?", San asks, and you nod eagerly. Seonghwa chuckles, “Go for it.”

You let your fingertip ghost over the dragons' scales, tailing their curvature. Goosebumps form on Seonghwa's arm and his hand finds its way to your head, stroking your cheek, as you meet the red beast's eyes.

The mafiaboss whispers, almost sentimentally, "No blood or tears."

Another expression, which proves to you that the tattoo was undoubtedly his idea, but you see it, the romance that is spoken from the male's skin, regardless of the little insight you have on both of them. Loyalty, reverence, creed, a belief and a duty, and before you know it, you want Seonghwa to enwrap you with his arms and never let you go, which he does.

His slender hand cloaks the left side of your head, and he pulls himself into a kiss, while he unbuckles his belt with his other hand.

You don't know how much you understand of this situation, no, you don't know how much you want to understand of this situation.

You've been on your own. That's all you ever had after you left home: Your body and soul, the windstorms of the mountains pushing you from the back to keep going, and you've lived your best life living for yourself that way, in bliss, in ignorance— in peace, but what is peace in a place where you can't move by yourself? In a world that’s maimed by the rich, and sure, it may be that you’ve chosen your path, but you were never walking a road that was yours, always trailing behind something.

Nameless, that’s what you thought you would need to be.

Your monks wanted to be called their title like everyone else, it would have been disrespectful to ask Lady Kim for hers which you now regret, and not even as a secret did your old man tell you his name, but you— you, Y/N, you have a name and you want to scream it, live it as loud as you can, hear it echo back with a volume that feels stronger when it rings back.

You could have settled on being acknowledged by your supervisor to earn some good money, but this is what you’re here for, aren’t you? Why you trusted your gut to stick to the scary men? Why you walked to them with confident steps, even when a nervous knot was forming together inside you? Did you go as what, an act of defiance? One of independence? To prove yourself that you were still standing on your own feet?

"Speaking of, brother..."

Yes, with no shame.

"You really enjoyed yourself back there, didn’t you?”, San asks. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

Seonghwa is kissing you down your breast, observing closely how you breathlessly react to his tongue twirling around your nipple.

"You left me no other chance," the older male hums, coating your circular buds with his saliva, bringing out your heavenly sighs every chance he gets, stroking himself to the sounds of your pleasure.

"Well, I would have made sure you still fucked her, brother."

“Sure,” Seonghwa lisps and positions his cockhead at your entrance. 

You try to grab San's shoulder behind you, as the male pushes himself inside, and your torso rotates to the side with your eyebrows pulling together, your cunt being spread apart.  “F-fuck,” you exhale, and Seonghwa kisses the corner of your lip to soothe you. Your cunt squelches around his cock and your hips roll by themselves, wanting to take more of his length.

"Shit, look at her go," the mafiaboss woos, "Fuck yourself out, brother."

"Think you’ll miss this?", Seonghwa snickers and it must be the first question he has asked today. “Y- yeah, you will!”, you snap, feeling eager to be acknowledged for how good your cunt wraps around his throbbing heat. 

“Oh, princess,” the CEO laughs, and your stomach drops because of how pretty his laughter sounds, and he caresses your cheek, only making your confusion and desire to finally uncover what the two men have obviously been keeping from you grow bigger. You don’t want to say it abruptly, but you three are naked, in a confined space, skins pressed against each other, so you believe you’re worth some type of explanation– or are you not?

“C- can you tell me what’s going to happen?”, you whine, and Seonghwa moves his hips, grabbing you by your waist to get his whole length. “Are you, fuck, going to leave me?”

“I dunno, brother, you call it,” San mutters. “It was your plan.”

“D- don’t!”

“It’s barely my plan anymore,” Seonghwa breathes, bucking his pelvis in, his cockhead being sucked in by your sensitive cunt.

“Don’t leave me!”

“You needed a distraction, brother, I got you one.”

“No,” Seonghwa chuckles, but in his heat, he kisses you and glances up at San while his tongue brushes against your lip. “But I’ll admit she saved us some jail-time, San.”

They continue talking over your pleas, and though you would have loved to ask a second time how the night was going to end, your brain has started to give into the pleasure once San folds your legs together, holding you by your hamstrings, giving Seonghwa an easier angle to fuck you senseless. 

“F- fu-huuck,” you breathe out, and your eyes are disappearing behind your molten, droopy eyelids, with Seonghwa cumming for the second time on your abdomen and cleaning it up with his handkerchief, and you don’t even know when it was, that San crammed out his cock   again, but you can definitely feel the difference of his girth, when he re-enters your used cunt, your legs shakily landing on the floor. They feel wobbly, your thighs having gone loose, and the mafiaboss has to hold you by your arms behind your back to support you.

“Can’t take it anymore, baby?”, San whispers into your ear, and his voice is low, very low, you don’t know how much time has passed since you could make out any of his words, but it feels like you’re back here, in the elevator, and Seonghwa is putting on his belt again.

“I c- can!”, you manage to whine out, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to return to your small apartment, not wanting these two to be gone from your life. “I can!”, you repeat yourself, when San lets out a mockful cackle. “You’re not going to fucking leave me here, San!”

“Who said anything about leaving you here, baby?”, he asks you, and he does mean his confusion, but the sarcastic undertone makes you desperate grow desperate. San frowns. “What did I tell you, baby?”

“You aren’t telling me shit, San!”, you sob, and his cock running through you prevents you from finding a braver voice, his two hands find your wrists to bind them together in his grip. “Aren’t you such a smartie,” he growls into your ear, hot air hitting your dissolving ear.

“Brother,” San calls out, and the addressed man is busy opening up his briefcase, getting on his knee. “I’m still waiting on you, y’know.”

“If you had stuck to the plan, th–” Seonghwa murmurs, but the mafiaboss falls into his word. “Then we would have fuckin’ send the bitch to prison and someone else would have him killed him, but there! You know I didn’t come with the fucking patience for that, brother! Geezer was getting on my fucking nerves.”

Killed?

“And don’t you talk back now,” San warns, “It was you who killed all of ‘em, so you figure out how you’re going to carry that one out.”

Killed?

“You already know how I’m going to carry this out.” Seonghwa smirks. “But you’re stopping me, San.”

“Augh, brother, you’re too sober for your own sake!” San’s cock is too deep in your cunt and your body is too much in his control for you to stop moaning like a bitch, but in your head, you’re puzzling together tonight’s happenings.

Expensive whiskey. Ice cubes. Ten minutes, gunshots, black leather gloves– “killed.”

Oh, Y/N.

“What did you do with the chairman, Seonghwa?”, you moan out, feeling how the mafiaboss is ramming himself into you at a sloppy, greedy pace, prolonging how much he can be inside you before he comes again, and you don’t know whether his heavy breathing can cover up the silence that it takes for the CEO to react to your question.

Seonghwa is still kneeled on the floor, when he rotates his head, smiling, his eyebrows pushed up. “What do you think I did?” His second question of the day.

“I- I,” you stutter, but San shakes his head, and interrupts you with his voice still loose from the alcohol, “you really don’t know how to keep up a good mood, brother!”, grabbing you by your chin and yanking your head up. “Lemme make my baby cum first!”

You can’t see Seonghwa anymore. You can barely see anything anymore, you’re counting your fifth or sixth orgasm of the night, cunt growing hotter with each time San thrusts into it, and with your breath being cut off, you slowly feel your arms lose their responsibility, tingling up from where your wrists are crossed behind your back. His cockhead is flaying against your g-spot and your thighs tremble at how used you’re being, eyes falling in, throat feeling tied up.

“S- San,” you manage to cough out, back arching for your final cry of pleasure, and San grins, letting go of your wrists, which makes you immediately fall to the front, finding safety against the mirror with both of your hands. He smacks his hands against your ass and lunges into you until your whole breast is pushed against the cold wall. 

“Come on, baby, come for me,” San roars, and you wail, tired, exhausted, feeling the orgasm drown you like another wave in the ocean of bliss you’ve been swimming in, whining out, “coming, coming for you, San!”

The mafiaboss presses himself against your back, his silver cross being imprinted into your neck, as he unloads himself, his last drops of hot cum overflowing out of you. “Fucking slut… So fucking good…”

He kisses your jaw repeatedly and looks at how tiredly closed your eyes are in the mirror, cooing “aww, baby.” San strokes away a strand of hair and gets himself off your body, pulling out. “You look like you need some sleep, baby.”

You are trying to catch your breath, grabbing the handrail to hold yourself up, as it sounds like San is putting on his shirt again. They’re gonna fucking leave you here, aren’t they? Leave you here in the elevator with the– with the fucking bankrolls on the floor of the fucking men you fucking– Oh god… Keep breathing, Y/N. Keep on breathing.

“I mean all I’m saying… you know… lobsters and crabs are friends, pal.”

What the fuck is he on again…

“You’re making this hard on yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything, just sayin’ that she just grew on me, that’s all.”

Your legs tremble, as you try straightening them to stand up and see what the two are scheming again, but as you turn your body around, ass against the handrail again, you hear a very unfamiliar clicking in front of your forehead area which is not coming out of San’s mouth.

“You’ve grown soft. That’s what you did.”

“Ahhh, fuck you, brother.”

“Pathetic.”

You see a hole, and it also doesn’t take you long to see Seonghwa ready to pull the trigger, the mafiaboss leaning into the corner of the elevator, arms crossed, looking at you with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, pressing the button that leads to the lobby.

The night is over.

“A- are you going to– oh my g-god, are you going to kill me…?”

“Yes, princess.”

Your heart is going to burst, you could puke out so many words right now, but you don’t know what to do. You don’t want to die, not when you felt so fucking alive– you– fuck, you should feel sorry that your coworkers that they didn’t deserve to go the same way as the asswipes did, because you’ve long realised that the bangs were their skulls being crushed by the bullets, but at the same time you couldn’t care any fucking less about them right now. You just have to survive, that was the only thing that mattered since the very beginning. This is about your life. Your precious fucking life.

“Ah…”

Your body is too weak to hyperventilate, but your brain is working overtime. Do you run? Attack them? No…

Seonghwa hasn’t moved an inch away from your face, and you take it upon yourself to raise your hand and slowly push the cold, black gun to the side, so you can look him in his eyes, but he forces it back there.

“Please don’t kill me… I can do so much for you! I– I,” you stutter, trying to gather all the knowledge your monks have taught you. “I– I’ll do anything! You– you saw me, didn’t you? I have– I’ve been told I have a talent for serving! I– I can do anything, please, I beg you, just…”

You fall to your knees, and they burn on the glassy floor, your hands folded in front of your abdomen. 

“Just please, let me live…”

You’re not greedy. You’ve only taken what you were given, and tonight, you’ve been given so much. Too much? No, it couldn’t be…

“Brother.”

There are tears flowing down your eyes, and you feel so sorry for yourself. You miss your old monk, and hope that you may be reincarnated to a butterfly that he can admire, just so that he can look at you with his adoring eyes again. So someone can want the best for you once in your life–

“Brother?”

So anyone can finally love you for once in your life.

next part coming soon... series masterlist | main masterlist

[manheeiim]

controlling? - rafe cameron

summary: ex-pogue!reader x kook!rafe - arguing with rafe over your pogue friends || warnings: toxic relationship, manipulation, drugs, rafe harshly grabs y/n's hand || genre: established relationship, angst || word count: approximately 1130

Rafe slammed the car door as he left me alone in the car, storming inside. He was pissed, really pissed, at me. We'd gotten into a big argument over my friends, whom were pogues. He hated me hanging out with them when I knew he hated them. I thought it wasn't fair since I was a pogue myself, originally at least, and since they were my friends.

I got out of the car, shutting it behind me as I trudged my way towards the house. I walked inside, looking for Rafe. I knew how he could get when he was angry but I just wanted to talk to him, even though I knew it'd probably end up in another fight. That's just how it was with Rafe.

I made my way down the hall, hearing some noises, and I saw Rafe, bent down in front of the counter, where some cocaine was poured on it in a line.

"Alright, alright. Just one." I could hear him whisper to himself.

I hated when he did drugs. I really did. I had enough bad experiences in my life with drugs, my family members overdosing and all of that, I didn't need that happening to him. That was my biggest fear.

"Rafe.." I quietly said as I hesitantly walked in. I walked over to him, "Please don't." I said as I walked closer to him.

"Y/n," Rafe looked up at me, looking annoyed. "Don't." He said, sniffing some of the cocaine.

I looked over and grabbed the small bag that had the remaining cocaine in it. He groaned as he got up, walking over to me, "What are you doing? Give it back to me." Rafe said.

"No." I told him, holding it away from him.

"Give it back." He then said before grabbing my hand harshly and forcing the small bag out of my hand. Rafe let go of me and walked a few steps away, pacing a little as he looked at me. "You know why I'm so upset right now?" Rafe then asked. I stayed silent. "Huh?" He said, wanting me to acknowledge him.

"What is it, Rafe?" I asked, letting out a sigh.

"You don't know how to listen to me." Rafe said and I just stood there, not really knowing what to say. "I tell you to not hang out with those dirty pogues, but you do it anyways." He then tells me.

"Don't say that." I said, hating when he called them "dirty pogues" since I was a pogue once too, and technically, I still am.

"No, I'm going to say whatever the fuck I want about them." Rafe harshly told me. "You go hang out with those people and look what happened, the cops got called to their little party, and I had to come get you." He scolded me as he continued to pace around.

"I'm sorry, Rafe." I said, letting out a small sigh.

"No, don't start with that shit, Y/n." Rafe said, walking closer to me. "I already have enough shit going on with the cops. My family has enough shit going on with the cops. I don't need you getting in trouble too. You got that?" He then asked. I stayed silent for a few moments, I understood where he was coming from. "You got that?" Rafe then asked again when I didn't answer him.

"Yeah." I said.

"Good." He sighed, going back to the table and kneeling down in front of it.

"I don't like you calling them "dirty pogues"." I blurted out and Rafe looked up at me.

"What?" He asked.

"I don't like you calling them "dirty pogues"." I repeated.

He let out a sigh as he got up again, coming over to me, standing directly in front of me as he looked down at me. "Yeah, well what else would they be?" Rafe asked.

"Good people. My friends." I said.

Rafe inhaled in frustration as he slowly blinked, "Yeah, and I hate that, you know that. They're always getting you in situations that you shouldn't be in." He told me.

"I know that they make bad choices sometimes, I do, but they're my friends, Rafe." I said. "Don't forget, that I knew them before I knew you. I was a pogue before I met you." I then told him.

Rafe closed his eyes for a second, taking a breath. I could tell he was really holding back. "You may have been." Rafe said. "But you're nothing like them. Especially not now." He sternly said, almost like he was trying to get me to believe that.

I don't say anything as I look away, he walks away, kneeling down by the counter again and sniffing some of the cocaine. I stay silent as I look down at my feet. I let out a shaky breath.

"You know what I don't like?" Rafe asked and I looked over at him, waiting for him to tell me. "I don't like you going around and doing whatever you want, completely disregarding me, your boyfriend, who's trying to do what's best for you." He told me.

"I'm sorry, Rafe. I know." I softly said, feeling bad. "I just.. why do you have to be so controlling?" I asked really quietly, hoping he didn't hear what I just said.

Rafe slammed his hands on the table, making me flinch as he stood up straight again. He walked over to me. "Controlling?" He repeated as he walked a few steps away, sniffing as he paced around the room. "Controlling?" He repeated, yelling this time, making me flinch. "I'm controlling for looking out for you?" He asked in a raised voice as he motioned towards himself. "All I do is make sure your safe, that you're healthy, that you're not being stupid and getting yourself into trouble, but all you do is defy me." Rafe scolded me as he walked over to me.

"I- I-" I didn't know what to say.

"Yeah, don't know what to say, huh?" Rafe stood in front of me. He looked at me for a few moments before sighing. "I do this because I love you. You know that, right?" Rafe asked and I nodded. "You know I'll take care of you. Alright?" He then asked and I just looked at him. "You don't need them. You have me." He said.

I looked at him for a few moments before I hugged him, wrapping my arms around his muscular torso and burying my face against his chest. His arms came around me as one wrapped around my torso and the other came up to my head, combing his fingers through my hair as he placed a kiss to my forehead.

I loved him, even if he wasn't good for me.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[dann-art]

I know that vampire chronicles aren't meant to be historical accurate. Like you read this and you know that all this events can happen in literally any time and space. Like really. The times doesn't really matter there, there are no nuances.

Listen, I'm not a historian, by any means. It's just like a hobby, but I have millions of them so I don't even learn that much.

Also I usually don't give a shit about accuracy in media, like whatever, until it's science do what you want, whatever suits your story

But sometimes it's time to say enough is enough.

So, we need to talk about Armands origin in Kievan Rus'. Okay, that's cool, we don't really explore it, but well whatever, at least we're not messing this up, right? Right?

While I was reading I ignored it. I was reading TVA in polish translation I thought like okay, names and nuances probably got lost in translation. It's a really bad translation tho.

But out of curiosity today I opened the book in English, because this was sticking in my head.

And it appears it wasn't translators fault.

So well, it's like kinda huge mistake. Like no one really checked it? But this book constantly claims that like Kievan Rus' was then in Russia. And suprise, suprise: that's simply not true. Well the term is kinda not right and can mean anything, like back it existed as state it was huge, but (judging on the mention of Kiev itself) that it was like somewhere in that area.

So I'll spare whole history, it's not relevant. We're stop around 1480's, when Armand was born (based on my calculations). And in that time the region was called Kiev Voivodeship (hope I got it right in english), and it was part of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, and stayed there until 1569, when it passed to the Crown of the Kingdom of Poland (when the Polish-lithuanian commonwealth was created, but both countries were in union since early XV century)

So in the book we have some lines like this

Armand, bestie, I don't know how to break it to you, you're not russian. You never were. You've never lived in Russia (or back then I would use rather the name Moscow, but again I'm not a historian). More of a Ukrainian if so, but also not the world I would use. Most accurate would be rusyn (I think, or ruthenian???? I'm not sure how it works in English, anyway not russian).

Then we have this, and well... Oh boy. Something went really wrong with geography here. First of all, you've never been to Russia (or better say Principality of Moscow, like it wasn't even called Russia, from what I know, but i might be wrong).

So okay, Moscow and Novgorod were in part of Moscow indeed but Cracow!?!?!?? (Known also as my absolutely favourite city in the world). Like Cracow like Never ever has been a part of Russia. Okay, I get confusion with Kiev if you really really don't care about basic research. But Cracow???

Here's the map. Unfortunately it like administrative of Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth in 1619, but well you'll see my point. That doesn't make any sense

Cracow always was polish. Like it's our second capital. And look how far from Russia it is. Even during the partitions it goes to Austria not Russia.

Last thing I want to point out is this one

Like, man, maybe you speak russian, I do not doubt, like during travel to Moscow you could learn I guess.

I'm not entirely sure, but I guess the language there is ruthenian not russian. Like ruthenian is old language which is base for slavic languages such as Belarusian or Ukrainian. And what is also important it was not the language used in the Principality of Moscow, so it's definitely not russian.

Okay, thanks for reading if anyone is still there. I won't bore you any longer. It just was sitting in my head and I had to throw it out because we'll, basic research I guess.

[respectthepetty]

What does this mean for Phee and Jin? Did Phee set out on a revenge plot but developed real feelings for Jin?

Anon, I've been obsessed with this show since the very first episode, and I have never been on the "Phi and Jin are end game" ship because I think that

Jin had to be the worst of them.

Recap:

I wrote that Phi was sus af in the very first episode, and one reason was because he didn't hear the noise that Jin heard.

This happens again when Jin and Phi are running from the masked killer, and Jin is the only one to see a bloody Mr. Keng.

Some people are defending Fluke's actions because he didn't actively do anything to harm Non, but he also knew about the broken camera and said nothing, so I think whatever Jin did was even worse. He couldn't just have known about the bad stuff happening to Non. He must have also intentionally turned a blind eye and LEFT Non, which is exactly what Phi subtly calls him out on in the first episode, and probably why Jin is leaving Thailand for good.

Because I also mentioned that these boys have known each other longer than we were told in the first episode. The boys said Tan and Phi came AFTER Non disappeared, but I think Jin knew Phi way back in the tutoring days, but hadn't realized Phi knew Non since Jin said Mr. Keng's name like Phi knew who that was (because Phi probably went to tutoring too and that's how he "met" Jin).

I think White is gonna be the final gay, and Tan is the second killer because one of them has to be Non's brother, no? But I think it's Tan because homie always got twenty million questions and White wasn't even supposed to be on this trip.

Either way, Jin has never been on my "gonna live to the end" even though Jin is the main character,

And he already wrote his end. All the boys are dying the way they forced Non to change the script, which is why Phi is following Non's script this time around. He is making sure these boys get what they asked for. Hell, even the driver was the first to die in the original film, and was the first to die in the present, and Fluke watched Non's fall into hell at the hands of Tee and Top, and now he is being tasked with watching his friends as they die.

Once again, I think Jin was the worst because he acted as Non's protector and he started having feelings for Non,

Yet Jin might have betrayed Non somehow since Phi dropped this line in the coffin.

And Phi seems to have strung Jin along for a bit, which makes me believe that Phi is giving Jin a taste of his own medicine.

Tan asked Phi if Phi and Jin were "better" and Phi said that Jin won't even look at his face, and I feel that is pivotal to this plot. Phi wants Jin to trust him . . . the same way Non trusted Jin?

In the original film, Jin and Non were running away from the masked killer, and Jin left Non behind. It was just a film, but maybe, perhaps, possibly, Jin really left Non behind somewhere.

Phi has been playing the long con with these boys, so this shit is hella personal. If Phi was with Non and wanted more with Non, yet was doing the devil's tango at one point with Jin, I truly feel that Phi is committed to having Jin care about him.

Just so he can be the one to betray him.

*applying clown makeup* Jin fucked up big time somehow, and Phi has been playing him the longest because he wants Jin to feel every bit of pain he caused Non.

What did you do, Jin? What. Did. You. Do?

[keiicom]

Yjh things the Webtoon 'forgot' to mention or to point out bc they hate novel yjh

Warning for vague webtoon spoilers ig?? No spoilery names are named and no unreleased scenarios are mentioned/specified btw but I thought I'd add this warning just in case :)

He waited three days on the bridge for kdj to resurface after he dropped him in the Ichytosaurs mouth. Just. Waited there.

He smiles when Kdj tries his food and says it's good (it's more like a tiny smug smile tbh)

He is a WORRIER. Man worries about everything, but sucks at expressing it through actions bc that's when he's most easily misunderstood. It is EXTREMELY easy to misunderstand his actions unless the other characters ask him what he's doing and why [after he explains, he turns out to be actually really thoughtful tbh]

When he tells 41st round shin yoosung to "quit her blabbering"...he wasn't that harsh in the novel. The line was changed (still don't know why) but originally he said something about not having enough time, and wasn't a complete asshole.

Also during that same arc/scene it was revealed that he woke her up because he genuinely didn't think she'd attack him/be mad at him iirc, so it wasn't him being stupid, just somewhat naive

When Iris called KDJ ugly he actually stepped forward and intimidated her by glaring so she'd stop talking :) because he sensed fighting spirit in her and he decided to react lmao

His eyebrow moves similarly to a caterpillar when he's about to make an important decision (note: kdj points this out in the novel because he's always staring at yjh I swear to god there's proof)

Yjh puts on a 'cool' face when he's been caught or called out after trying to be sneaky (he's SO BAD at being sneaky istg I love this man so much)

He sometimes uses his skills for stupid and petty shit *said lovingly with heart eyes*

He's more likely to give someone/an NPC a quick death than to make them suffer until they die

He always goes along with KDJ's plans, even though Kdj barely tells him ANYTHING about them ever 😭 He glares but still goes along with them I NEED Y'ALL TO UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS- /lh

He drags his sword on the ground when he's happy/satisfied with something, or generally in a good mood. Also Loves to clean his sword (I think the webtoon added a scene of him cleaning the sword like. once)

He loves his sister more than anything (we haven't seen a lot of scenes with yoo mia AND yjh in the webtoon yet but I have high expectations for those knowing how much he adores her in the novel)

Mans RUNS to help every time kdj is in danger, unless he genuinely thinks kdj 1) can handle the situation himself or 2) deserves the punishment

He has MONOLOGUES in his head even though he only ever says like two sentences thakrhsjfjb, and is very eloquent when given the chance to explain his thought process/reasoning

[which kdj rarely lets him do. bc he's hellbent on doing the talking and most other characters don't expect yjh to talk anyway]

The hand holding scene that was turned into a weird wrist holding scene? Yes originally they held hands (he wasn't as angry then either)

He's a serial texter and will spam message people

He loves dumplings

He gets jealous when other people monopolize Dokja's attention for too long (also canon, ex: Sangah, [redacted 1], sometimes han sooyoung, [redacted 2], [redacted 3] 💀 and WILL glare at Kdj or demand answers depending on how severe the transgression is)

He's tired. So, so tired.

HE CAN LAUGH

he doesn't let Han Sooyoung live out of pride/not wanting to lose to kdj (???? what even was that). he lets her live because he doesn't want kdj to think poorly of him / alternatively he doesn't want to lose him as an ally. Not everything is about pride with him 🫠

he looks embarrassed after hearing yoo mia tell him he looks "happy when you talk about [kdj]". the narration also gives her statement some credibility, because "she knows him well since she's his sister". but of course they made him look angry instead of embarrassed 🙄 bc god forbid he shows any other facial expression ever

He's nosy (again: said lovingly with heart eyes). You'll notice how even when he pretends not to care, he'll still stick around to see how things develop/gather info on 'important' stuff. If he's not interested, he'll just leave, bc he's the kind of guy to just do that. So if he doesn't leave, even if he's pretending not to care... you see where I'm going with this

He has a sense of humor, believe it or not (though most of the time he's hilarious without meaning to)

When [redacted] asked yoo joonghyuk what his deal was with kdj and why he wanted him in his group he said "kdj is necessary for this world. I need him." but webtoon decided to skip that line 🫠

I'd add more but the rest is spoilers fhajhrjeka so yeah I'll just wait to see what webtoon does first and I'll update this as they go

Yjh says "I guess your mother doesn't like me" instead of this "like mother like son" bullshit, because the second one implies dokja doesn't like him. which couldn't be farther from the truth

Yoo Joonghyuk actually looks distraught when he realizes he's the one that has to kill [REDACTED]. To the point [REDACTED] has to tell him to not make that face.

He holds him tenderly as [REDACTED] falls, and tries to hang onto him as he's dragged away.

[lesbianpepsi]

Hi can you write about taking care of Sam when she sick and just fluff

hello honey, of course i can write a lil sick fic, especially if it's for Sam

I adore you, can't you see you're meant for me?

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!reader

Request: Taking care of Sam whiles she's sick

Words: 1.863k

Warnings: sam having the cold? bad writing

—————————————————————

"I can't come over, I'm sick." Sam grumbled through the phone along with a few coughs.

You giggled at her words. "Boo, you whore." You replied thinking Sam was only trying to quote the iconic line from the iconic film, Mean Girls.

More harsh coughs were heard through the phone which slightly alarmed you since- no offence to your girlfriend- she wasn't the best at acting.

"What? Why are you calling me a whore?" Your eyes widened as you noticed Sam was in fact not quoting Mean Girls. "Wait, you're actually sick?"

"Why else would I say I'm sick?" The nasally sounding Carpenter sister questioned sounding confused.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry, Sam. I thought you were- you know what never mind. I'm coming over now." You said briskly as you put the call on speaker mode, rushing to put your converses on.

"You don't have to come over, it's fine." Sam said to which you shook your head at, as if she could see you. "I'll be over in ten." You told her as you finished tying your shoes, running over to grab your phone, wallet and keys before walking out of the door.

"You live thirty minutes away."

"I'll be there in ten."

—————————————————————

You somehow managed to arrive at Sam's and Tara's apartment in ten minutes and with a bag full of items.

Knocking on the door three times to announce your arrival you opened the door and walked in.

Tara was sat on the couch with the Babadook playing on the Tv, she turned her head to look at you, giving you a smile. You gave Tara a little wave with your free hand as you swiftly closed the door.

"Hey Y/n, Sam's in her room." She told you to which you smiled appreciatively at. "Hey Tara. How've you been?" You asked as you walked over to stand behind the couch, looking down at Tara.

She shrugged her shoulders weakly. "Alright, thanks for asking. I'm feeling much better than I was a few days ago."

"You were sick too?" You asked her. She nodded her head. "Unfortunately. Mindy had a bad cold and she gave it to me, and every time I get sick Sam also gets sick. So now she's rotting away in her bed."

You chucked at the thought of Mindy passing her cold to everyone in the group, thankfully you hadn't gotten it yet.

"Sibling connection." You teased before you glanced towards Sam's door. Tara giggled nodding her head, it was truly an annoying connection.

You began to walk over to Sam's room before you abruptly stopped and shoved your hand into the bag, pulling out a bottle of Cherry Coke and a small box of Nerds as you turned back to look at Tara.

"I almost forgot." You said making Tara turn to look back at you. Her eyes glanced at your hands and her eyes widened with excitement. You tossed over the drink and sweets that Tara horribly failed to catch.

"Thank you!" She yelled out in a sing song voice already opening the Nerds to get a handful. You laughed as you continued your original plan to walk towards Sam's door.

You gave it a gentle knock before walking inside. The room was utterly void of any light other than some of the light peeking through her curtains.

"Sammy, you alive?" You joked lightly as you walked over to the curtained window, pulling them apart only a bit to allow more light inside so you could actually see your girlfriend.

Sam grumbled as she shuffled around in her bed. "Barley." She said in a raspy nasally voice that made you sigh, she sounded really sick.

Kicking off your shoes you moved to sit by Sam on the bed. The sick girl turned away from you hiding her face in the pillows.

"I don't want you also getting sick." She mumbled as she let out a heavy breath. You pushed yourself closer to Sam as you placed the bag on your lap, searching through it for specific items.

"Well I'm here now and I'm not leaving until you're back to your non-sick self." Sam grudgingly rolled over with her face landing softly against your elbow.

You shuffled further down until Sam could lay her head on your shoulder. Turning your head to look at her you noticed she looked really ill.

Darker bags than usual were laying under her eyes, the end of her nose and the skin around her nose red from having to use a tissue so often, she was also boiling. Even through your hoodie you could feel the heat radiating off of Sam.

"Oh baby." You whispered with sympathy, Sam groaned next to you. "Don't pity me."

You rolled your eyes at her stubbornness. From the bag you pulled out a myriad of items: a packet of Ibuprofen, a box including sachets of cinnamon tea (Sam's favourite), a packet of tissues, a bottle of cold water and of course some soup.

"Have you taken any pills today?" You asked her to which Sam shook her head 'no'. You passed over the pack of Ibuprofen along with the bottle of water. "Take two now and then in a few hours if you've still got sore thighs you can have another two."

"How'd you even know my thighs hurt?" Sam asked pulling away from you to sit up on the bed, her back now against the headboard.

You copied her movement as you watched her take out two pills from the packet.

"Every time you're sick your thighs always hurt, I remember you telling me." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam's eyes gazed at you as she popped the pills in her mouth before taking a large sip of the water. She swallowed it after a few seconds and kept the bottle on the bedside table.

She coughed once as she nodded her head, giving you a smile. "Thank you." You smiled sweetly at her as you grabbed her hand, interlocking your fingers with a gentle squeeze.

"How about I go make you some soup and some cinnamon tea then we can watch anything you want." You suggested as you picked up the tomato soup can with your free hand, a bit basic but it was Sam's favourite.

She nodded her head slowly at your words, smiling weakly. "Yes please." She croaked out in a nasally voice.

You gave a curt nod before getting out of the bed, Sam let out a low groan as you dropped your interlocked hands.

"I'll be quick, you pick a show or movie while I make you your soup okay?" You said as you manoeuvred your hoodie off your body, dropping it in the floor.

"Fine." Sam exaggerated. You smiled at her once more before grabbing the box full of sachets and tin once again before leaving the room.

It didn't take long until you were back by Sam's side with a bowl of tomato soup, a small plate of toast and one cinnamon tea for Sam.

(While you were gone Sam had put on your hoodie which made your heart soar at the sight)

"You're the best." Sam thanked as she took the bowl from your hands, taking a small spoonful to which me moaned in satisfaction at the taste.

You beamed with pride as you moved closer to Sam's side until your shoulders and thighs were touching.

"Did you choose what you want to watch?" You asked her as you stole a toast off the plate on her lap. "Don't you dare get crumbs in my bed." Sam threatened as she turned to give you a serious look.

You sighed leaving the bed to stand up as you ate your toast. "What movie or show?" You repeated with a mouthful of toast.

"What's that tv show you keep watching when I'm at yours?" Sam questioned back as she took another spoonful of the soup.

"Brooklyn Nine Nine?"

"No I don't think so."

"Schitts Creek?" You guessed again.

Sam shook her head 'no.' "Derry Girls?" You asked in a more hopeful tone as you took one final bite of your toast.

"No, it's not a sitcom."

Dusting off the crumbs on your shirt you went to sit next to Sam again. "The End Of The Fucking World? Hannibal?" You tried again.

"Is the main character a Russian blonde woman?"

Your eyes widened as you finally figured out what show Sam was talking about. "Killing Eve?"

"Killing Eve, that's the name. Yeah Killing Eve." Sam confirmed as she took her own slice of toast dipping it into the soup. You grinned with satisfaction as you grabbed the TV remote, logging into Netflix to find Killing Eve.

"You know if you just said that in the beginning I would've guessed it a lot faster." Sam rolled her eyes as she took a bite of the toast.

As the opening scene to the first episode played Sam had enough of her food for now and placed them on top of the bed side table. Replacing the bowl and plate with her cup of tea.

You felt Sam move closer to you as she leaned her head on your shoulder, one hand holding the hot cup of tea and the other laying on your leg.

Wrapping an around her waist Sam relaxed even further into the touch. Sam was usually the one wrapping an arm around you, or usually being the big spoon, but when she's sick she settles for allowing you to be the bigger spoon.

"You're the best girlfriend ever." Sam said as she took another slow sip of her cinnamon tea, the smell wavered into your nose.

You chuckled at the compliment. "I know right." Sam rolled her eyes playfully as she took another careful sip of her tea.

"I take back my statement." She threatens with seriousness, you gasped dramatically as you placed a hand on your chest. "Oh how you wound me, my love." You say playing into the dramatics.

Sam laughed in a dry tone which still managed to make your heart skip a beat at the sound.

"Fine I'll take it back, just because I love you."

"I knew our love would conquer all."

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence till the end of the first episode of Killing Eve.

Sam had finished her tea and was fully cuddling into you at that point, making you pass her the bottle of water every now and again.

As you pressed play for the next episode Sam spoke up. "Thank you for coming over and taking care of me."

You smiled warmly as you kissed Sam's forehead, the skin cooled down a bit compared to how hot it was earlier.

"It's my duty as your girlfriend, Sam. You don't need to thank me." You reassured her as she let out a hum.

"Still, thank you." She said as you felt her press a featherlight kiss to your neck. You beamed with love at the contact, your smile somehow widening.

"I love you so much, Sammy."

Sam rolled her eyes at the nickname as a smile of her own played on her lips. "I love you so much more, Y/n."