making my sub shotgun a joint to me over and over until they’re dazed and dizzy and drippy
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia
seen from China

seen from Italy

seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Russia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from Russia

seen from United States
making my sub shotgun a joint to me over and over until they’re dazed and dizzy and drippy
smoke.
@idtaeho itaewon, alleyway.
smoke curls around her temples. sinks into her pores.
it’s an off hour on a low traffic night and even the distant sound of cars on the main hill is muffled, a slow crawl. it’s the twilight hour inn between, when the buses aren’t running yet and the last train is long gone and you’re left relying on kakao taxis to get you home. kakao taxis that are, notoriously, hard to get ahold of around itaewon, given the reputation of the area.
it almost feels planned.
her lips feel bruised, her head spins, cheeks flushed. she’s taken his hoodie and pulled the hood up around her head, her ears, the rest of it hanging down long. it obscures everything about her that could be identifying, unless someone is going to take a look at her legs and make a play to recognize her from that.
she shouldn’t be here, and she shouldn’t be here with him.
but what better way to fuel that twist in her chest, that aching chasm of self-loathing, than to follow after him, slide into his car. the silence is tense, cut it with a knife. she takes his phone and fiddles with his playlist to kill the quiet. pulls a cigarette from the pack she’s found in his pocket and lights up, prompts the window half cracked down. it’s not often they spend time together in this suspended limbo state. liminal, tenuous, and she pulls a long drag of the cigarette, smoke filling her lungs acrid, still a poor match for the burn in her marrow.
she exhales out the window.
“you don’t mind me smoking in here, right?” she drawls, clearly not intent to give half a fuck if he does, perhaps goading him towards a more familiar anger, ill content in a quiet moment. she doesn’t want to think of him as a person, as dynamic and variable. she wants him angry or hungry and desires only the constant grasping and clawing at her skin, at her senses. “thanks for the ride.” she pushes the hood of his sweatshirt back down now, as the car zips over the mostly empty highway, rocketing back over the river towards gangnam. he looks almost soft, serpentine features rounded out in the honeyed street lights, soft golds that paint his skin in flashes between the inky dark of the river, of the waves, of the sky. “must be rough going tonight if you’re headed home with me,” she drawls, at her own expense, a knife that cuts two ways.
you’ve heard of tea and coffee service. what about bowl service? having your sub pack you a bowl whenever you like, then learning to anticípate when you need to smoke. bringing the bong to your side when you’re working on a stressful project or rolling you a joint while you’re working on dinner 😍😍
🏛️ * ﹕ㅤㅤ the bass from the floor below thrummed through the vip room, the muffled pulse of the dancefloor where halcyon's elites came to life in a night of debauchery and excess. but no matter how removed from the one-percenters' bacchanals, the three bodies in this room were just as alive, oleksandr and alistair sat next to each other on a black velvet sectional, with a man across their laps⸻ a treat shared for false mask society's successful destabilization of the city through gossamer's assassination of trailblazer. the man arched his spine in reaction to the pleasure, breath coming in wet, muffled burst with his throat stuffed by alistair's cock while olek worked his fingers deeper into that tight, little hole, curling with the kind of expertise that knew how exactly to make a body shudder and clench around him. but indulgence should never be mistaken for distraction, connecting his mind with alistair to prepare for their next moves. olek didn't even shift his gaze from the screens that displayed security camera feeds of the nightclub. « gossamer has done his job, and now it's your turn to do something for me. » he delivered telepathically at the same time as he crooked his fingers to press up into that sweet spot that made the man whimper and moan around the girth splitting his jaw. ❝ can't get enough of his cock, can you ? ❞ said in a low, teasing voice to make him feel like their attention was on him despite so far from the truth. and when the question was met with another pathetic cock-drunk whimper, olek struck the man's ass with a sharp smack with his free hand, then pumping his fingers a little faster. and he didn't even care that his own hard cock ached against his slacks, he'd have his way with this one later, just wanted to let his right-hand man to have his fix first. loyalty could be paid in many different ways and oleksandr spared no expense when it came to his men. « i have a shipment coming in next week that i'll need you to protect from the second it reaches the docks until it's safe & secured in our hideout. think you can handle it ? »
INT. smoke & mirrors, hive's private meeting room ⸻ night. @notjustsmoke
FDNY Engine 219 & Tower Ladder 105 {SPARE} Responding to a Table Fire at Room 214.