Chapter Text
Shang Qinghua feels ridiculous.
That wasn't unusual at all, he oft felt like he was some weird conglomeration of both his parents' worst attributes smashed together in a semi- appealing husk of a human.
He would rather be lounging on his 4000 dollar leather couch that he managed to pawn off his mark last year and clack at his keyboard on Weibo about the latest stupidities of the main lead in that popular drama he absolutely does not watch.
But he's currently working, and working hard.
He tips the glass in hand to his tightly pressed lips, wine staining to a red hue richer than the light sheen of gloss he put on. It's purposeful. He won't drink unless he absolutely has too.
He's aware of the man on the other side of the couch is watching him and his tucks his stocking covered legs up on the dark Italian leather sofa, his heels dragging marks in it before leaning into the man he came with. His current sugar daddy has a wife and three kids his age, and he paid for the outfit Shang Qinghua's wearing today, including the ridiculous diamond-encrusted bunny ears on his head. The shoes are worth the humiliation of the corset tight at his waist and the 400 dollar silk on his ass.
He likes to show that off at least, he works on it daily.
His newest man laughs and lets him come in close, his saggy skin turning red from the alcohol and the fact that Shang Qinghua’s soft supple skin is rubbing against his.
Yes, Shang Qinghua is a young good looking man in his early 20s that latches onto old rich and often pathetic men for money. It's a good job if you squint your eyes.
Sure, he has to take dick up the ass occasionally and also has had all sorts of weird kinky shit done to him but besides that! It's all good. He gets too eat well often and wear ridiculously priced clothing. It also gives him unlimited time to do what he loves best, watch bad shows and write the shitty thing he can think of.
Eventually, he wants to become an author. He has thousands of pages detailing an epic romance between a demon lord and his pathetic servant that he draws from his sad past but that will never see the light of day as long as he’s alive. Currently, he’s shitting his time away by posting the worst imaginable harem fiction that he could conceive, crackling with laughter as his audience gets more and more appalled at his shameless smut and worse plot holes.
It's not really where he thought he would be at 25 but at least he’s alive at this point. It’s a cathartic at this point, writing all those that hurt him as cannon fodder to be done away with even if he can't do anything to them in real life. It's pathetic and vindictive but makes him happy.
Shang Qinghua has always been small. In middle school, he was scrawny and his bones were delicate and very breakable. He was teased relentlessly for it, every sports day and physical education class was a hell to get through. After school, he would huddle up in a hoodie and sweats to hide bruises and read fantasy novels, where small insignificant little guys like him became heroes that were adored and respected. He drowned in games and movies and anything to not think about how shitty things actually were, to try and distract from the fact that he kept staring at guys more than girls and getting flushed and hard at thought of someone holding him down and fucking him.
By the time he hit college, he was pale and thin, all the fast food and unhealthy junk settled to his hips and ass. He managed four shirty paying jobs and did side hustle on the weekends. Life sucked balls 90% of the time.
Then his literature professor opened his eyes.
He commented very lightly that Shang Qinghua and interesting prose and solid storytelling. For a kid who had scrapped and yearned for any sort of validation since he was kicked out of his house, it was like a light at the end of the tunnel. Sure, that professor was a pervert that single-handedly ended his college career but still!
Writing became Shang Qinghua's salvation.
Which is why he was half-naked and flirting with a man double his age and then some.
At some point, he had lost all shame.
He thinks it was maybe when he kissed his dad's boss' son and then got a punch to the face for it.
Or maybe when he slept with his literature professor because he thought he was in love.
Or maybe he got the shame beat out of him all those years in school.
Regardless, he's glad it's all gone.
A hand slides up his thigh. Shang Qinghua suppresses a shiver.
The silk on his ass rides higher, the headband on his head skews left and he reaches up to fix it. His ringed fingers catch on his dangling earring and he hopes to god his makeup is as pristine as it was 3 hours ago because it took him three back to back episodes of QueerEye in Tokyo to finish it.
There are others dressed like bunnies, the theme for the night at this weird-ass party. He’s been consistently handing wine to his patron, keeping him dull and weak so he won't make Shang Qinghua do anything humiliating. It's happened before, forced to his knees and made to be indecent. Hazards of his line of work.
The man across the way is spreading his legs a bit, a clear sign of arousal. Shang Qinghua looks away, embarrassed for some reason. Then he looks back, up through curled false eyelashes that were a bitch to put on.
The man grins.
He's a bit younger than his current moneybags, so he might be an option soon. Even though he's already juggling two, so what's one more.
Another bunny pass by, all legs and heels and an innate elegance that Shang Qinghua envies. He doesn't have that flare or lure. His thing is… Well…. He's a bonafide bimbo. He stutters and trips and is easily confused and that's not him acting. Maybe he lays it on thick. Amazed at every little thing, and cooing at every turn of phrase… but it's his thing and he does it well. Whiny, spoiled and dumb.
The long-legged baby cut a fine view, making the man interested in him look away.
Men. They are all the same.
He crawls into his old man's lap, faking a pout at the injustice of being shown up by a younger bunny as he lays his chin over his shoulder and lets wrinkled pale hand grope his ass through the silk.
The man around him babble drunkeningly, pulling at the straps on his corset, and tugging at his updo.
Something like shame bubbles up but then he closes his eyes and thinks of his book that's in drafts on his kitchen counter at home and how he's going to wrap up the next chapter.
He's acting out dialogue in his head when his moneybags pushes him off his lap and stumbles upright.
Shang Qinghua doesn't pretend to pout this time, he really does. Careful with the merchandise it's literally his only asset. He turns around to see what the commotion is for, hoping it's not another irate wife that's going to slap at him and yell.
But when he looks up and keeps looking up, at the man that his current ATM is nervously shaking hands with, his breath freezes in his throat.
As icy blue eyes meet his, Shang Qinghua realizes he has just a bit more shame to give.
At 8, Mobei Jun figured out his life was just worth more than others. His name and blood were tied to an ancient fortune that was uncountable in size. The world bent to people like him, by the force of his power, influence, and money. Now, as vice-chairman of the largest supplier branch of their family's conglomerate, Mobei Jun could have anything he ever wanted.
Unfortunately for him, the only thing he's ever truly wanted had just been sprawled comfortably on an elderly asswipe's lap in a lingerie bunny suit after disappearing 10 years ago.
Art by the lovely Strottine (please follow them and watch their moshang animation omg)