#I don’t know if the schedule thing works

[unintentionalseductress]

How To Court A Dragon

Warnings: MDNI, sex, monster fucking, DVP, explicit genitalia descriptions, double pp, size kink, mentions of breeding Summary: You unintentionally became his mate. Of course, you have some questions. A/n: Hey ya'll! I used to be called nanamiscocksleeve! Here it is! Now...I hope this isn't something people will shy away from because it took me a lot of effort to write this, not to mention all the weird questions I asked Google about reptilian mating parts (there's a sentence I never thought I'd write!). Also, the things about the pp...I was imagining this scene from The Shape of Water 🤭🤭🤭. Enjoy my fellow monster lovers!

“Sylus?” You glance over at the large, intimidating dragon occupying about half the space on the large fur rug you’re both lying on. The dragon, idly fiddling with a gilded coin, glances at you with a bored look in his ruby eyes.

“Yes, kitten?” he asks in his usual growl as he flicks the coin away onto a pile of gold. 

“We’ve known each other for quite some time.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we have.”

“I was wondering…if I could ask some questions.”

“Questions?” Sylus looks at you with mild curiosity. “Hmm, let me consult my schedule... ah yes, I have a free moment between ‘hoarding treasure’ and ‘menacing villagers.’ Make it quick." He flashes you a sarcastic grin and you roll your eyes.

“Can you ever just speak normally? Wait that’s not my question!” You add hastily as Sylus’s eyes flash in amusement, clearly about to reply and further annoy you by not answering what you really had in mind. 

A deep, rumbling chuckle emanates from Sylus’s throat. “Go ahead, sweetie.”

You fiddle with the rug, wondering how to phrase your question. You had been living with, if it could be called that, a dragon for a reasonable amount of time now. Between the cave and Tarus City, there wasn’t a glimpse of another human for miles, and now, he was the closest thing to companionship that you had. 

Initially, you were worried he wasn’t interested in you beyond consuming you as a meal but as time progressed, the two of you had struck a balanced relationship. Now whenever you and Sylus ventured out into Tarus City, the inhabitants had begun to refer to you as the dragon’s mate. The thought had initially made you blush because ‘mate’ referred to something more carnal and intimate than whatever you two were. However, Sylus had made no effort to correct them, and now you had unwittingly accepted the title, and it had become part of your identity. 

There was a cavern within the long and winding cave filled with books from faraway lands and one day when you had nothing else to do, you’d come across a book entitled “The Courtship of Dragons”. It was obviously written from a human point of view but you’d read things that had left you with many questions; most of it seemed to be a work of fantasy like the author had made up some parts just to keep the reader’s attention. You’d turned these thoughts over and over in your head until you decided enough was enough and that you needed to get the answers straight from the dragon’s mouth. 

“I read something about…dragon mating. And I’m a little confused by it.” You venture out the topic hesitantly, looking at him for a reaction. Sylus’s face remains impassive as he regards you.  

“Dragon mating?” he chuckles as you avert your eyes back onto the rug, plucking at the fur as you do so. “Whatever did you read? Tell me. I’m quite curious to know.”

You clear your throat before continuing. “Well, the author said dragons have an innate sense about recognizing their mates and that they don’t…nest with other dragons. Is that true?”

Sylus rolls over onto his side contemplating. “Yes, that’s true. Dragons do mate for life. Once they find the one, they become their own unit. They make their own lair, and no other dragon is allowed to enter it. We get highly territorial if this is violated.” 

“I see.” You twiddle your thumbs together. “And…what if…your real mate is out there somewhere? Wouldn’t my presence be a downside?”

“My real mate?” Sylus asks in a vexing tone. “I’m not sure I follow.”

You look at him in disbelief before hedging on. “You know, your real mate. The dragon you’re supposed to be with.”

“You keep forgetting I’m only half dragon. Chances of my mate being completely dragon aren’t high.”

You click your tongue impatiently. “Fine, the other half-dragon or whatever. Isn’t she still out there? If she turns up in your life one day, then doesn’t that mean…” Your voice trails as you consider the implications. 

“Yes?” Sylus prompts you. 

“Well we’d have to shake hands and part ways right?” You rest your cheek on your palm, bearing your weight on your elbow as you turn to look at him. “I wouldn’t be allowed here anymore since you have a mate.”

“What makes you think my mate would be a dragon hybrid?”

The question exasperates you. “Aren’t you the one who said your mate wouldn’t be completely dragon?”

“I did. But you seem to be forgetting another possibility.”

“What? Is there a percentage of dragon she has to be for this to work?” 

Sylus lets out a booming laugh, the noise echoing richly off the walls of his cave. You look at him confoundedly, unable to fathom what made him laugh like this. 

“There’s no need to mock me.” You huff irritably as you watch his abdomen quiver from his mirth. “I’m just trying to familiarize myself with dragon etiquette.”

Sylus quiets down at your tone before he reaches out a clawed hand and flicks your forehead. “Can you really not think of another possibility?”

“No.” You curtly bite out the word. “And I don't appreciate being teased.”

The dragon shakes his head, a wide grin forming on his chiseled face. 

“You seem oblivious to the possibility that she could also be human.” The tone with which he says the words render you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t in fact, considered that as a possibility at all. How could a normal human become a mate to a dragon?

Almost as if Sylus had sensed your curiosity, he explains. “I didn’t make the rules, sweetie. Dragon hybrids are known to find human mates more often than not. Perhaps with the hope that their offspring have a chance to become completely human.” 

Fascinated with this bit of information, you turn it over in your head. “Aren’t you interested in finding her?”

“Finding her?” Sylus chuckles. “Why would I put in that effort when she’s been with me this whole time?” He raises an eyebrow at you as you process his words, then falter as the meaning finally washes over you. 

“Me?!” You sputter as Sylus watches amusedly, his tail swishing across the rug. “Just because the villagers of Tarus City think I’m your mate doesn’t make it true!”

“Indeed, it doesn’t,” Sylus agrees almost maddeningly. “What makes it true is the mark I left on your neck.” 

Your breath hitches and the moment seems to stand still, stuck in time like a black-and-white photograph. Instinctively, your fingers reach for the bite mark Sylus had left on the crook of your neck when he’d first met you. “What about it?” you ask defensively. 

Enjoying the flustered look on your face, the dragon calmly explains. “The mark would have faded by now if you weren’t fated for me. Mate marks last forever, no matter when they’re given.” He smirks, revealing his sharp teeth. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” You burst out, overwhelmed by this reveal. “ I’ve been sitting here day after day thinking at some point you’ll find your true mate and I’d have to think about how to fend for myself!”

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused about which of these is more distressing to you. The idea of moving out, or realizing you’re my mate?” Sylus asks the question with a lilt and you resist the urge to punch him, knowing you’d injure yourself against those scales.

“Both,” you say swiftly, then turn away from him. You’re taken aback as his tail suddenly wraps around your waist and pulls you against him. His chest is warm against your back and his breath tickles your neck as you squirm in his grasp. 

“Where do you think you’re going my little one?” Sylus purrs in your ears. Determined not to let him get a rise out of you, you sulk, ceasing all movements even as your heart pounds in your chest. His chin brushes against the top of your head like a territorial cat. “What? All bark and no bite?” A soft laugh emanates from him as he continues to hold your body against his and you realize…

“Are you snuggling me?” You resist the urge to look over your shoulder and Sylus presses a kiss to it in response.

“Yes. Snuggling between a dragon and their mate isn’t uncommon. Was that not in your readings?” He teases as he continues nuzzling into your warm skin which was steadily heating up under his attention. 

“But when did we become mates?” You rack your brains, trying to think amidst the fluffy fog now filling your brain as Sylus continues to show his affection. 

“It’s not something you become. It’s something you are. Do you ask the water why it flows, or why the sun is bright?” Sylus’s tail wraps further around you, the smooth scales feeling comfortably warm against your skin. “You just are. I knew it. The inhabitants of Tarus City knew it.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.” You quip sarcastically as his nose buries itself into your hair, smelling the sweet scent of the soap you’d used earlier in the day. 

“Would you have believed me?” His inhalations were sending tingles across your scalp and you tried not to melt into his embrace which was surprisingly warm and secure. 

“I-I suppose not,” you admit begrudgingly before your eyes flutter closed. Sylus continues his tender handling, and with a sigh, you finally give in, rolling to face him and letting him embrace you against his chest. He doesn’t say anything but cups the back of your head, claws gently scratching through your scalp and you drowsily let him caress the silky locks. 

Noticing your unwillingness starting to fade, Sylus murmurs, “Does the prospect of being my mate seem less daunting now?” 

His tail wraps around the backs of your thighs and you glance up at him, blushing when you see him gazing back at you intently. Those brilliant ruby eyes, akin to those in his treasury, had an intensity you couldn’t place. It was almost like they could pierce into your very soul and see all of you bare. The thought made you feel exposed and you blink, trying to gather your thoughts. The sharp, dagger-like tip of his tail now rested on your hip, and you hesitantly began to finger it, unsure what to say.

“Not less daunting,” you start, observing how his tail flicks gently in response to your touch, the sharp, hooked scales at the very end softening and flattening against your palm. “Not in the least. You are ancient, powerful, eternal. People fear you even as they look at you in awe. A dragon is timeless, and as a human, I’m like a fleeting ember, a mere second in your life. I might have a thirst for revenge on those who wronged me, but I am an ordinary human. I don’t understand why you believe I would be a suitable mate.” 

 You steal another look at him and see that his pupils are starting to dilate, the dark center of them consuming the red. Sylus lets out a noise of frustration, seemingly ready to give up trying to convince you, but to your surprise, he takes a deep breath of fortifying patience, then grasps your chin with his fingers, ensuring you can see his face. 

“I’m going to give you one, final, absolute, piece of proof. And if you still don’t believe it, then I will eat you so that I don’t have to listen to your maddening doubts anymore.” His tone implies he’s being humorous, but you cautiously watch him, fully aware that you have no defenses against those teeth and claws. You nod, his fingers dipping with the movement. 

“You and I share half of each other’s soul. A typical human vessel wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. Not unless you are fated.” He lets go of your face and brings your ear to his chest. His heartbeat was a steady thud-thud-thud, and yet…it felt like a call. Like something was there inviting you to come home, even though you didn’t know where it was, and suddenly, you feel your own heartbeat start to resonate with his, automatically following his rhythm, inexplicable, deep, primal. He waits and you realize what he’s been trying to say all along. There was no reasoning behind mates. You just knew.

You swallow, feeling like you’d been doused with a bucket of cold water, then place your hand over his heart, feeling a little thrill as he covers it with his. A shaky breath forces its way out of you as you lean your forehead against him, a sense of enlightenment washing over you. 

“Understand now?” Sylus asks almost imploringly and your heart clenches at the tone. 

“Yes.” You gather courage and look him in the eyes. “I do.” Then in a much softer tone, you add, “I’m sorry.”

At your apology, Sylus gathers you in his arms, his embrace almost suffocating as he holds you. Your hands wrap around his back, feeling the points in his skin where the wings sprouted from his body. It felt strangely intimate to touch something like this, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers along the ridges, fascinated by the texture. Sylus’s breath catches in his throat and he loosens his grip, easing you back onto the rug. 

With confidence, you raise a hand to cup his face, your chest swelling with joy as he turns into your touch, his lips grazing your palm. You’d never seen him so vulnerable and defenseless, the fact that he was baring a secretive part of himself to you humbling. You don’t stop him as he lays over you, nuzzling your neck and letting out a series of low growls that sound strangely affectionate. 

You giggle, and he pauses, looking at you with keen interest. “Something amusing you, my love?”

“You’re like a cat,” you tease, then pet the hair between his horns. Even as his expression changes to being miffed, his eyelids become half closed. 

“I am most certainly not a cat.” He sounds affronted but makes no move to stop your petting, and more low growls escape his throat. You can’t control your mirth and the giggles now bubble out of you uncontrollably. 

“Then how come you’re purring?” You stop petting his hair and cup his face with both hands, a wide smile forming on your face as Sylus opens his eyes, which are hazy and languid. 

"That... that isn't purring," The dragon hybrid says with a slight huff. "That was a growl, and you know it."

“Or is that just how dragons purr?” You playfully run your fingers behind his ears, massaging the lobes and then back into his scalp at the base of both horns. 

Sylus tries to keep up his facade of stubbornness, but the gentle massages make him shiver with pleasure. "No, that's a growl. Purring sounds like..." He attempts to imitate a cat's purring, but it came out more like a deep rumbling that vibrated throughout his chest.

You snicker, and then an uncontrollable fit of laughter seizes you, the kind that makes your shoulders and chest shake. Here was this mythical creature, feared and worshipped, yet somehow, trying to imitate a cat despite insisting he was not behaving like one. You brush away a tear from your eye, then look at Sylus who’s sulking, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of crimson. Was this the same dragon that you had worried about being a mate to?

"You-you're insufferable, you know that?" He grumbled, even as he nuzzled his face against your neck; he couldn’t seem to help himself. You reassuringly pat his back. 

“If this is how dragons treat their mate, then I’m no longer worried.” 

“Is that so?” Sylus retreats so that he can gaze down at you. You can see how his expression is softening, betraying the depth of his fondness for you. 

“Yeah. I’m starting to come around.”

“Good. I’m glad I was able to change your mind.” Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and causing your heart to flip-flop inside your chest. Your free hand idly strokes his back, still engrossed with the different textures of his skin where the wings began. 

“You seem to have a lot of thoughts about my wings,” Sylus observes as you fondle the leathery base.

“How big are they?” You ask curiously, then gasp as Sylus suddenly pins you under him, then with a rustling noise, his wings fully extend for your viewing pleasure. You look at them, enthralled by the contrasting marbled red and black membranes, little spikes lining the upper ridges. 

“About ten feet each,” Sylus says gruffly with a hint of pride. “Pure dragons are much bigger though.”

You reach out a finger, watching for signs of resistance and when he doesn’t show any, gently trace the membranes, observing how the sunlight illuminated through them like a backdrop. 

Sylus hums at your exploration, his wings twitching slightly before he lies flush against you, putting them in easier reach of your wandering fingers. He resumes that low growling as you do so, and as you watch him close his eyes, another question forms in your head.

“Sylus…are your wings sensitive when touched?”

He cracks his eyes open, and there’s a quality to them that wasn’t present before. A hint of…nervousness? 

“Yes.” He admits after a gap in a slightly breathless tone. “But only when you touch them.” 

His words only make you more captivated, and you continue to delicately stroke down the leathery expanses, the surfaces almost silky to your touch. As you do so, Sylus suddenly squeezes his eyes closed and lets out a rough moan, like he is doing his best to not lose his restraint. 

Your hands freeze as you feel his claws scrape against your clothes, digging into your soft skin as his wings swiftly drop from their extended positions, cocooning you in a swaddle of red and black.

Unsure what just happened, you gently try stroking his hair again. There had been no mention of dragons behaving like this in the books you’d read, and you were burning to ask him, but not if he wasn’t in the right state of mind.

“Sylus?” You call his name softly and hear him hum in response. “Are you ok?”

He lets out a few uneven breaths before resting his head on your chest just underneath your chin. “Yes…I’m fine. No need to worry.” 

“Is it all right if I ask something else?”

“Does it have to do with those ridiculous readings of yours again?” 

You’re about to protest but decide against it. He was behaving in a completely unprecedented manner and you weren’t about to kill the adorable mood. 

“Why are your wings wrapped around me like this?” Your hands rest on his flanks, feeling his tail swishing as it lightly hits your feet. 

It seems to take him a great deal of willpower to bring himself into a state where he can answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, mesmerizing, rumble, and you feel yourself tremble in response.

"When a dragon has a mate, it's not uncommon to wrap our wings around them. It's like a protective shield, a barrier that symbolizes possession. You might say it’s our way of claiming our beloved as ours." Sylus’s mouth ghosts your ear, and his next words cause gooseflesh to erupt on your skin. 

“Sometimes, the urge to mate becomes too strong and dragons don’t particularly enjoy being watched. The size of our wings is significant because they must be able to completely wrap around their mate as our primal instincts take over. Hides them from unwanted eyes. After all, there can be no treasure more precious to a dragon than our mate.”

A claw gently pushes away a stray lock of hair from your face and Sylus gazes longly at your face. Swallowing, you press on with your questions, despite feeling a steady rise of tingling heat beginning in your belly and slowly flooding into your chest and sex. 

“And when dragons mate…is it similar to other animals going into a rut?” 

Sylus chuckles, and his tail slides up your body, slithering between your breasts, the feel of each scale brushing against you sparking little flames of desire under your skin. His forehead rests against yours and his wings seem to tighten around you even more. 

“Rut would be the wrong word. A rut would imply something quick and with little intention other than impregnation. Dragons do not rut like most basic animals…we have a long and sensual ritual, lasting for a significant period, and the end goal is to ensure our mate’s satisfaction. Also, dragons do not have a set season like most animals. Rituals can occur anytime provided both mates are willing.”

Your mouth goes dry at the explanation, and you can see the edges of his scarlet irises beginning to darken even more, like bits of smoke mixing with magma. “A-A r-ritual?” Your tongue feels like it’s too big for your mouth and you stumble over the words. 

“Yes my little one,” Sylus purrs, and this time when his lips touch your ear, he follows it with a wet lick of his tongue, awakening a heady, primal, storm inside your gut. “The dragon breeding ritual. A crucial part of dragon courtship. During this time, the male will go into a rather intense state of need. Nothing matters beyond being close to and satisfying his mate. And the female must be prepared for a rather… passionate experience."

Your next words fall out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. 

“Are a dragon’s organs compatible with a human’s?” You cover your mouth as soon as you ask, face flushing with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to ask it so crudely, but too little too late. 

Sylus gives you an appraising look, his lips curling. “Well…simply put, yes. They’re compatible with human mating organs but they’re certainly not visually similar.” His reply astounds you and you blink, unprepared for his answer, rendered speechless. Questions buzz in your head as you mull over what you’ve been told.

“I’m guessing there’s more?” Sylus’s eyes glitter with mischief. 

“Ah…well….” You recall one last thing you had read and it was so outlandish that you weren’t sure how to put it into words. Sylus watches you patiently as you try to get your words together. “The book…the book said…that dragons are…that they have…” 

You swallow and bite the bullet. “That dragons have two.” 

Silence follows your words and Sylus’s eyes widen, before he composes himself.

“Heh. Were you purposely saving the interesting questions for last sweetie?” A cheeky grin quirks his lips and you turn your face to hide in his wings. 

“Now now. Don’t get all embarrassed with it out in the open.” Sylus grasps your chin and turns you to face him. “It looks like at least one thing in that book was right.”

Your eyes become as wide as dinner plates. “Really?”

“Yes. That bit of information is true. Male dragons do in fact have two mating organs.” 

The casual way Sylus says these words, like he’s giving a biology lecture contrasts your shell-shocked expression. Your mind could now only attempt to imagine what it looked like and it was going haywire at the discovery. 

Observing the stunned look on your face, Sylus gently nudges you. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ask questions that you’re not ready to hear the answers to, kitten.” 

Your eyes rove down over his body, taking in the wide view of his chest, leading down to narrower hips and legs that seemed to stretch for days. Then his tail, an appendage adding another 6 feet to his whole length. And somewhere in between all this, tucked away under his leather trousers were not one, but two, dragon penises. 

You try to recall your last encounter with a man, a knight, who had been keen on showing his abilities. It was fine, for lack of a better word, and you remembered how the man’s decently sized single organ shrunk once everything was over. Were Sylus’s similarly shrunken and stacked one above the other at this very moment?

At your lack of response, Sylus chuckles, then in an unexpected gesture of tenderness, strokes your hair. “I can tell this isn’t the end of it. Go on. Get it all out.”

Your mind seems to have lost its ability to think. Wetting your lips, you try to think of something reasonable to say but words have lost all meaning. After a few more minutes of silence, during which Sylus has wrapped you up again in his arms and tail, enjoying your closeness, do you finally venture forward with an inquiry.  

“Why two?”

Sylus makes an odd noise like he was choking down a laugh. He lets out a puff of air, chortling. “Ah, kitten. If only I knew. There are two theories, both of which don’t have much evidence to support them.” Sylus turns onto his side and you yip as you’re sandwiched between his wings, the upper one covering you like a blanket as Sylus moves into a more comfortable position, moving your body closer to his.

“The first theory is that because dragon pairings are rare, two organs help increase the chances of a successful pregnancy. The other…” he trails off and his smile becomes positively wicked before he continues. “The other suggests that having two serves no other purpose than to heighten the woman’s pleasure.”

An uncontrollable shiver runs down your spine and you feel your entire body become hot. Your voice is hushed as you ask, “And they…both…go into the same…?”

Catching on to what you were implying, Sylus chuckles at your reaction, your embarrassment only fueling his enjoyment. It was so tempting to tease you into a flustered mess.

"Ah, you're catching on, aren't you? Yes, both of them go... in the same place. And together, no less." He leans in, his mouth close to your ear again. "Can't you picture it, my dear? The sensation of both of them, inside you at the same time..."

You squeak at the graphic description and bury your face into his chest. “Ok, I’ve heard enough! Stop!” You try to calm your racing heart but Sylus’s low purr as he’d explained dragon anatomy was still ringing in your ears. There was a burning curiosity to ask him how it worked, how it fit but you were positive you would drop dead from the embarrassment. 

You twitch when Sylus puts his calloused hands on your back, soothingly stroking your skin. “It’s all right my jewel. I know it’s a lot of information to process. Take your time. I’m yours after all.” 

At his last few words, you lean away and glance at his face. “You’re mine?”

“Yes,” Sylus murmurs, the tenderness in his eyes becoming more evident. “As you are mine. I’m equally your mate as well.” There’s a tinge of possessiveness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before and it was making you feel weak; the thought of belonging to Sylus, of him belonging to you. There was an ancient concept of souls being bound at play and suddenly you find that you’re highly attuned to his mood; the atmosphere has changed, and part of you can feel the intense want that’s filling Sylus’s bloodstream, can sense the depth of his emotional bond as it echoes in his chest. Your body seems to synergize with his, each rush of blood, each dilation of the pupils, and every sigh that’s being shoved back all come into clarity. You reach out to touch his neck and the mating mark on yours seems to hum with life, drawing you closer to Sylus’s physical state. 

Sylus looks intoxicated as he drinks in the sight of you, soft and pliant in his arms despite having done nothing but talk to you about courtship. You were still shy, but he can sense there’s now a primal instinct that’s beginning to take over. His restraint was at a limit but he waits for you to make the first move, knowing he’d regret it if his first act of intimacy with you was for his own selfishness. His voice dropped even lower,  a rough, possessive growl.

“Be mine, my precious treasure. Be with me. Be Mine to claim, mine to protect, and mine to possess."

His words resonate deep within you and the overwhelming feelings you’d been holding back break like a dam. With trembling fingers, you stroke his cheek, dragging a fingertip across his lips, your breath catching as Sylus nibbles the digit. 

Gathering courage, you ask him softly, “Can I see?”

A thrum seems to vibrate through the air and Sylus nods. “You wish to see all of me? I’m yours.”

Sensing you were too timid at the moment, Sylus undoes his trousers, and they rustle as he slips them down his legs. Still in his embrace, covered with his wings, you wait, then trail your hands down his heated abdomen. His heart pounds in his chest as you do so, feeling the unfamiliar terrain of skin and scales before your hand finally reaches its destination. Sylus’s harsh breathing can be heard as he waits for you to touch him but when you do so, you’re slightly puzzled. 

Your fingers brush against smooth scales where a normal man’s genitals would be. You venture further, wondering. 

“Sylus? They are here right?” 

You hear a choked laugh, then he nuzzles the top of your head. 

“Yes, my love. Like I said, visually, I’m not like a man.” His voice is gruff as he tries to explain. His hands roam across your body, squeezing the soft flesh and purring at the feeling. 

“Then where…?”

“They're hidden beneath my scales, darling.” There’s a breathless quality as he speaks. “Just keep…petting me there.” 

Sylus closes his eyes for a moment, his body trembling as you continue to touch him. The sensation of your fingers tracing the scales on his skin was both soothing and arousing, making it difficult to hold back the possessive roar that threatened to escape his throat. Watching your reaction as you explored the area where his scales ended and something more intimate began was threatening to snap his will in two like a twig. 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen as you suddenly feel a bump starting to make itself evident. 

“There…” Sylus’s voice is gravelly. “Go ahead, my dear... Lift my scales gently. Just a little...”

You feel like little electric currents are running nonstop under your skin as you follow his orders. Your sex pulses between your closed legs, all the courtship explanations still fresh in your mind. You carefully start to lift the scales over the bump, curiosity piqued as they give way to a sort of shallow slit, then before you can go any deeper, you feel something hard and moist rise out of the patch. 

Whatever you had been imagining didn’t even come close to the real thing. You watch, transfixed, as Sylus’s twin cocks spring free, standing proudly in your palm. One was higher up on his body, and the other sat lower, and the lower one was slightly longer than the upper. Both of them were hot to the touch, beads of precum weeping from their slits. Colossal compared to a human, their surfaces were smooth but ridged in parts, in a way that resembled scales, yet softer. They were both coated in a sort of viscous, translucent, liquid, exuding from the cocks. 

Sylus groans as he feels the heat of your palm against his cocks. In a constricted voice he asks, “Well? What do you think?”

Fascinated, you gently grip the lower one, silently noting the size of it compared to your forearm, and wrap your fingers around it, barely managing to make them meet around the engorged column. A low growl leaves Sylus as you start to pump the smooth, velvety, column, observing how the shorter top one also responds, pulsing in time with its pair. A slick, wet noise fills the air as you stroke him and Sylus’s hips begin to rock against your movements. His mouth is open and he’s panting, sweat gathering on his brow as you experimentally continue to touch him. 

The scales that lined his cock were incredibly squishy and malleable, not at all having resemblance to the hard and sharp ridges on the rest of his body. As more of the lubricating fluid began to gather on his lengths, you wonder at the texture of those scales against the palm of your hand, and suddenly, start imagining how they would feel inside your cunt. Rubbing, stroking, providing extra stimulation as they nestled deep inside you. You bite your lip and steal a look at Sylus, heart jolting when you find him gazing right at you, and judging by his expression, he can feel the longing building deep inside your body. 

“I can smell it, kitten.” He inhales deeply, your scent filling his senses like an aphrodisiac. “Your arousal. It’s as potent as the daturas on the mountainside.” His cheek brushes against yours and you freeze as he kisses the corner of your lips. It was so unexpected and sweet and you turn towards him. 

“Bloom for me,” Sylus whispers before his lips lay over yours, capturing them in a deep and passionate kiss. Your breath catches in your throat and it’s like the kiss had opened a gate, all your raw desires coming loose. Like a ball of unwinding yarn, your arms draw around Sylus’s neck, pressing as possibly close as you can to him, your mouth opening sweetly to offer him your tongue.

The unbridled ardor of your reaction has Sylus groaning like a drowning man, his tongue slipping deeper into your wet cavern, sipping, sampling, and savoring the flavors that were unique to you. The rushing thrill of your surrender was a dizzying upward spiral as his hands roamed over your body, cupping your clothed breasts as his wings quivered from the tingling delight of being wrapped so snugly around your form. 

Sylus breaks the kiss and his long, dexterous, tongue licks a line down the side of your neck, sucking over the point where your pulse beat hotly, and into the crook of your shoulder. You gasp as his teeth sink into the flesh, a nip of pain flaring through you before Sylus soothes the sting with his tongue. 

“You taste as delicious as you smell my jewel,” he murmurs sensually, and continues his journey across your body, biting and sucking at your collarbone before resting between your breasts, nuzzling his face into the warmth. 

His tail has managed to slip between your legs and the jagged ridges have all smoothed into a streamlined piece of muscle, teasingly moving between your thighs, just high enough for the upper side to rub against your underwear, playing into the wetness that was already starting to gather. You moan at the stimulation, barely enough to even scratch the surface of your raging flames, and hook your leg over Sylus’s hip to give you more access. The thick tail presses into your slit, rhythmically dragging the fabric against your engorged clit as his hands busy themselves undoing the laces at the back of your dress. 

You shiver despite the rising heat as the dress falls apart at the back and Sylus drags the garment off over your head, his breath catching as he finally gets his first, unobscured look at you. His eyes rove appreciatively over your body, his blood humming in his veins as he watches your skin become ruddy, the light filtering over it through his wing casting a soft, shadowy glow. Your nipples were perked and hard, your skin smooth and creamy, with little curls of hair poking out from underneath the sides of your panties. 

You whimper as the very tip of his tail wedges into the apex of your folds, rubbing the soaked fabric directly onto your clit, sending skitters of electricity through your system. The air seems to become balmy as you breathe, harsh pants leaving you as want grows in your core, the overwhelming need to bite down and mark him back as he’d done for you becoming palpable with each passing second. 

Sylus raises a clawed finger and brings it to your mouth, which you obligingly suck, followed by a sharp bite that makes his eyes dilate and brings a grin to his lips. He slowly pulls the digit back, letting it slide between your lips and stroking the wetness onto a nipple, enjoying the way your breath becomes ragged and how your core clenches against his sinful ministrations. 

“Sylus…” you whimper, feeling tension curling in the pit of your stomach like a bow that’s been drawn too tight. His only response was a hum, his head dipping down leisurely to capture your other nipple, licking circles on it with the tip of his tongue, not unlike the motions his tail was currently drawing onto your puffy clit. His thumb and forefinger tweak your other hardened peak, pulling and pinching methodically as the moans of your pleasure fill the chamber. Now and then you feel the scrape of his monstrous teeth against the delicate skin of your nipple, just intense enough to bring a small lick of fear into you before you feel the reassuring slip of his tongue. 

Your sighs fill your head, body yielding to him, melting against the silken leathery embrace of his wings, eyes closing as the sweetening ache inside you builds. You stir as you feel his tail shift, and your panties are dragged down your legs, exposing your swollen sex. The unexpected feeling of his scales is suddenly made present as his tail lays flat between your folds, wetting itself with your slick and gliding smoothly against your aroused pussy. Your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched whine as the smoothened scales add extra stimuli to your bud, your hips moving with him and seeking out more friction. Sylus finally releases your nipple as he feels your desperate humps, and maneuvers you so that you’re straddling him, body balanced on his tail as it continues to pleasure you.

Your voice keens as your hands splay on his hard chest, the slippery appendage rocking against your clit, feeling the differences in the size of the scales while sliding closer to the base as the dagger-shaped tip tickles your chin. Your mouth instinctively moves to take it, sucking on it pacifyingly to ground yourself as your hips undulate over the rest of the sinew. You boldly glance at Sylus and his eyes are sanguineous, uninhibitedly gazing at the sight of you hot and bothered, seeking carnal satisfaction that he knows only his body can provide. 

The end of his tail withdraws from your mouth and teasingly draws back down to your breast, curling around a nipple and squeezing while he maintains the steady movement he knows you crave between your legs. With nothing to muffle your noises, your voice grows steadily louder, echoing off the high walls of the cave as Sylus guides you toward the abyss of gratification. 

“My body is yours little one,” Sylus says in a harsh whisper that has your senses on edge. You feel the flutter of his wings as they enfold you again, a little space of privacy where only you and he exist. 

“Use me for your pleasure.” His hand cups your cheek and his movements become frenzied, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you writhe over him, trying to find release. 

A soft haze seems to settle around you as your body orgasms. You feel the repetitive little spasms of your clit mirrored in your core as they become longer and more intense, flooding your body with sinful delight as you sob out your need. Your eyes are shut tight, the world becoming an incoherent mix of color and light where nothing is solid except for your mate as he pushes you through your heady climax. Even as your heartbeat turns erratic, you can sense the changes in him too as he scents the salty tang of your relief as your body relaxes. You gasp, steadying yourself as Sylus gently withdraws his tail, letting you collapse on his chest as you try to come back down to earth.

You feel his claws soothingly scratch your back and gratefully nuzzle into his chest before taking a steadying breath and peering over your shoulder at his neglected cocks. They were still standing, colossal and proud, with thick pearlescent beads forming on the tip. The slippery viscous fluid was now being exuded copiously, lubricating the entire length.

You crawl over to them, and Sylus lets out a gasp of surprise as your tongue darts out to taste one, running it over the weeping head. You taste salt on his skin and bob your head down a little lower, taking as much as you can, and Sylus fists the rug, his teeth biting his lower lip as he tries to control the raging urge to take you right there. 

Barely able to deepthroat him, you come back up, letting the moistened cock slip out of your lips before you gather both between your hands, squeezing the bases together before sucking both tips back into your mouth. Your jaw stretches wide to accommodate them, only taking him about halfway before coming back up for air. The lubricant covering them was tasteless but aided their path into your mouth and towards the back of your throat. Sylus thrusts into the inviting wetness as he tries not to choke you. You suck playfully, wet noises issuing from your mouth as you do so before Sylus suddenly jerks your head back, strings of spit connecting your lips to both heads.

“Not like this…” His voice is ragged. Swiftly, he flips you onto your back, drawing your ankles to rest on his shoulders as your thighs part for him. Your hole is quivering with anticipation as you feel one of the thick erections probe your entrance. 

“Breathe sweetie,” Sylus reminds you, his eyes growing steadily more animalistic as he pushes into you. You gasp at the feeling, then your eyes widen as Sylus gently splits you apart, your folds giving way to his massive proportions. You sniff, tears in your eyes at his size. There was pain along with the pleasure as your walls adjusted to him. 

Sylus’s wings gather you close to him, cradling you against his body as he strokes your face, whispering encouragement to you as he continues to sheathe himself into the hot moisture of your cunt. You squirm, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable, unsure what to do.

“Relax my little one. It’s ok.” Sylus kisses away your tears. “Remember we were made for each other. We’re meant to fit.” He halts, nearly fully inside, and your sniffs fade as you slowly adjust to him. Sylus thrusts softly, and you whimper, feeling so full impaled helplessly on his generous size. As he continues those deep strokes, your body seems to easen, the tension trickling away and giving rise to a whole new sensation. Your breath catches as you feel the thick mushroom head kiss your cervix with each stroke, the lower cock slapping against your buttocks with each move. The scales you had been touching earlier dragged smoothly along your inner walls with minimal resistance, flattening every time he pushed in, and erotically stimulating them as he withdrew. Every inch of your sex felt like it was being touched all at once and your eyes close dreamily as you lose yourself to the growing flutters of ecstasy. 

The next set of delighted moans are music to his ears and Sylus sensually rolls his hips each time, determined to wring out every tiny noise possible from you. Your face scrunches up in pleasure as he takes you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you keep thinking about how the second one would feel. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you, and soon you’re breathing his name, hands grasping his forearms as your bodies fuse together.  

Sylus sees your eyes glazing over with need, your mind switching to a state where all that mattered was the hedonistic rush of your bodies working together in harmony. He pauses, interrupting his rhythm as he angles his second cock at your entrance.

You moan as you feel it but when Sylus pushes, there’s no resistance, your cunt already sloppy from his previous thrusts. The action puts his upper cock in contact with your Gspot, and your cunt feels wonderfully pliant as you feel both of them working in tandem to bring you to another peak. The added thickness combined with the scales' stimulation on both surfaces brought you to a realm of delight you hadn’t thought was possible as he starts to fuck into you with purpose, certain that you are no longer in pain.

His teeth are gritted as Sylus ruts into you marveling at the tightness of your cunt, how every clench and spasm felt on his dicks, knowing he was responsible for each one. Your combined juices start to pool at the base of his cocks, leaving a sticky ring of arousal. The wet squelch of your cunt fills the air and Sylus sees your folds, still slick from the interaction with his tail and he’s determined to make you lose control another time. 

You whine in protest when you feel him halt again and Sylus hushes you as he withdraws his upper dick and lets it sit with a moist plop back between your folds. The runny juices slide down and coat your pussy and you can feel the soft ridged scales now nestled at your most sensitive spot and you realize what he intended to do a second before it happened. With a smooth brush, Sylus buries himself back in your cunt and you feel the tingling stimulation of the scaled ridges sliding through your folds and hitting your clit one after the other. You nearly shriek at the feeling, almost on the border of overstimulation as Sylus sets up a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours. 

Your face screws up and your eyes are squeezed closed as all your pleasure spots are stroked at the same time, your gspot and clit pulsing wetly. Sylus growls, his body pistoning in hot need as he chases his orgasm, seeking release. Your entire being feels like it’s slipping away, your cries of delight the only thing that can be heard. 

“Cum for me my love,” Sylus says brokenly, breathless and enraptured at the way you look, his legs shaking from the effort of controlling his climax before you had yours. Your body arches off the rug to feel the slick push of his cock and scales at a different angle and your toes curl as you finally let go and orgasm for the second time. It robs you of your thoughts, little brushes from the spikes continuing to push through every tremor you feel as the hot waves of gratification flood your system. 

Sylus’s hips stutter as he feels your walls fluttering around him, and lets out a feral roar as his climax hits him, his balls tightening up in urgent release and they spill their load. His abdomen clenches, his breathing rough as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You hold onto him as you feel each spasm of his cocks both inside and out, one filling your walls with thick jets of his seed, the other dripping his hot, sticky cum onto your clit, mixing with your fluids as it drips messily into your slit, marking you as his in the most primal way possible. 

It takes a while for him to recover, nestling against you, and you’re content to feel his weight on your body as you stroke his hair. After a period of silence Sylus hums and rolls you over so that you’re on top of him. The action dislodges his cock from your channel and you quickly clench your hole closed, determined to keep all of him inside you, even though your folds are dripping from his essence and leaking onto him. 

“Mine…” he purrs as he noses your neck and you smile at him, brushing his cheeks with your thumb. A deep sense of belonging and satisfaction courses through both of you as you lay together in the afterglow of your courtship. 

“Rest for now kitten.” Sylus’s eyes are heavy with sleep as he cradles you on his chest. Your body felt wonderfully achy from your lovemaking. 

“I hope the hatchlings look like you,” he murmurs tiredly, and you blink as your ability to process starts coming back to you. 

“Hatchlings?” 

“That’s what we call our young.” Sylus tenderly cups your cheek and kisses you. “I’ll be certain to fill you a few more times to ensure it happens.” 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @ravenclaw-jojo @cordidy @hesperisms @redactedbimbo @erebus-et-eigengrau @prisjean @cheesemachine44

[loramystii]

Sevika with bartender reader?

ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʙᴀʀᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

— ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴀʀ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏꜰᴛᴇɴ ɢɪᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴɴᴇᴄᴇꜱꜱᴀʀʏ ᴛɪᴘꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀɪɴᴋꜱ ᴏʀ ɪꜱ ɪᴛ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ?

— ᴄᴡ; ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴍ, ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ & ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ, ᴀʟᴄ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ

You were counting up the money and tips from last night, getting ready to clock in for tonight. Most were regular tips, 20s-50 bills, especially if they were consantly flirting with you. Though, Sevika, your regular, oddly tipped you more than anybody else. You didn’t think much of it, just that she had money and was lonely. And anyways, it was good to be on Silco’s number two’s good side. You moved your hair away from your hair, sighing and placing your hands on your waist as you listened to some random customer’s order. As you turned around the grab the vodka, your thong was visible above your low rise jeans, a low whistle coming from them. Your eyes rolled but a faux smile graced your lips as you turned. Shaking their drink a while longer, you placed it on the counter. “Add it to my tab, sweetheart.” You tilted your head with a nod and a smile.

Customers came in and out, all of them boring you. Yet once the door opened and Sevika’s broad figure was in your line of sight, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face, your eyes lit up. You quickly adjusted your posture and fixed your low-cut shirt, unsure as to why you wanted to impress her so badly. She walked up to the counter, placing her gun down, intimidating others who were surrounding you on the counter. They grumbled yet walked way to the other side of the bar. “There’s my favorite doll,” She spoke throatily. Her eyes darted to your tits and stomach, then to your slightly disheveled hair from working. “Came a bit later than usual, Sev’” You stated, avoiding eye contact and fiddling with the bar supplies.

“I have stuff to do, still passed by to see you, eh?” You chuckled at her bragging, how she was oh so packed in her schedule yet made time in her busy day to eye you and leave you money. “Whiskey neat?” You asked, her usual order, a classy woman if you had to describe it. She nodded, settling down onto a barstool. As you spun to clutch a glass, her wandering eyes landed on the pairing of your jeans and panties, an uncalled for groan leaving her lips. You cocked a brow, only flipping your head to see why she did that. “Just— uh, just a bruise, you know.” You bought it, unaware of the way her thoughts traveled to the filthiest of things. She received her drink, lips placed on the rim to take a sip.

“So, missed me?” She teased, trying to fill the silence. Licking her bottom lip, watching your tits move with your body and hips turn to grab different items. “Not missed, was jus’ bored.” You clarified even though you yourself didn’t understand your desires and feelings towards her. She hummed in acknowledgment, perhaps amusement. “Good, it’s good I don’t bore you.”

Three more drinks later, Sevika was already inebriated. Her words were slurred and her movements were messy. It seemed everybody else in the bar was the same, intoxicated and scattered all over the place. Not many people were asking for drinks anymore, simply dancing, talking, making out, you name it. You were no longer behind the counter but leaned against it beside Sevika. Sevika’s filter was long gone, her heavily lidded eyes shamelessly eye fucking you. “Are you a slut for every customer, or just me?” A surprised gasp left your lips, eyes widening at the drunk words. A slight huff leaves your lips, crossing your arms over your tits. “Seriously? I’m not a slut.” Sevika rolls her eyes tauntingly, hands subconsciously wandering to your waist. Pressing you flush against her, Sevika spoke now, the music still making her hard to hear. “Your damn panties are out for everybody to see and visually ruin you.” One of your legs wrapped around her bottom leg, boot pressed against it. Her condescending tone making heat pool at the bottom of your tummy in need, and this time, you knew exactly what you needed.

A knowing smile came upon your lips, tracing your fingertips teasingly along her facial features. “Maybe I did it for you,” You commented, placing the idea of you dressing up at home in your little panties and bra thinking of what outfit would please her most. Which thong would get her attention. What top would make her wanna fuck your brains out. Which hairdo would make her tip you greatest. It had her eyes rolling to the back of her head, the alcohol making it harder to say grounded. “Though, I think you’re a bit of a coward.” You extended your botton lip, knowing such insults would set her off. She gripped on you tigher, growling besides your ear. “Why’s that?” Sevika questioned, slipping her knee between both of your thighs. There was ultimately no space left between you and Sevika’s bodies. “All you do is give me money and throw sneaky passes at me, why haven’t you just fucked me, Sevika?” She let out a hefty chuckle, licking her dry lips. “Stop testing me, little girl.” She says mockingly, just trying to intimidate you even though you’re not that far in age. “Think you’re the little girl, Sev’, can’t even reach for that zipper if your life depended on it.”

Your endless ridiculing made her grab your ass, squeezing it and lifting you onto the counter. Your back arched against her hands now, arms circling around her neck. Her hand rushed to undo your pant’s buttons, yelping slightly. “Sev’— are you seriously—“ She cuts you off wih a grumble, nipping at your neck. “You fuckin’ asked for it, now you’re complaining, make up your damn mind, doll.” Your hands came to her chest, trying to push her away but failing miserably. “Nobody’s watchin’” She reassured, hands running through your tense frame. She only got the confidence from the drinks in her system, her thumb coming to rub circes on your pulsing nub. Your cunt clenched around nothing, moaning her name into her ear. A few people’s heads turned, observing the slick from your pussy coating Sevika’s hand. A quick glare made them look away, yet you were still worried and turned on from being displayed. “Tell me how to move m’hand, doll.” She demanded, gathering all your wetness on her two digits and ramming them into you. Your legs circled her torso, head hidden in the crook of her neck.

She pumped them in and out of you, watching your every reaction and whimper. She was experienced, you knew that much, yet seeing it in action was different. “Cu-curl—“ Before you ended your request, she curled her fingers into your g-spot, your jaw going slack as she abused that spot. “Sev’, Sev’, too much—“ Her free hand grabbed your throat, ruining your pussy in plain sight. “Close, doll?” You nodded, tears dripping onto her neck from being embarrassed and babbling pleas. A white ring of cum coated Sevika’s fingers, cooing praises, and encouragement, and then sucking a hickey onto your pulse point. “Thought you weren’t a slut?” Her fingers left your sopping pussy with a nasty squelching noise, licking your cum off her knuckles. Your thighs squeeze shut, reaching to zip up your pants. “You’re a bitch.” You spat, legs shaky. “Promoted from coward, it seems?” She leaves 400 on your counter besides you. 150 from her drinks and the rest for.. well..

“I swear to god if you leave—“ you nearly chase after her as she waves her hand walking away. “I’ll be getting myself off in my car till you get off your shift, yeah? Don’ get your panties inna’ twist.”

ʀᴇqꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ 𐙚

[theshunbun]

hi! :) i love your art- i've been following you for a few months, ty for your service i love supportive msgs & hot girls <3 but i'm curious how you keep uploading so much? its not smth that everyone can do :0 are these drawings made in a session and uploaded ahead of time? or do you draw each one every day?

Thank you so much for following and for the kind words ;w; I really appreciate it after the crazy week I've hadd! 💖 but I'm glad you're enjoying the supportive messages and the art 💖 💖 💖

Hmmm, As for how I upload so much, I honestly don’t think about it too much I usually try and draw about three pieces a day, and I just keep that flow going without trying to be perfectionist on myself so I don’t really stress over it, I just let the ideas come and keep the momentum rolling.

I know some artists like to batch their work and schedule uploads, but for me, I guess I just go with the flow and do my best to create daily, have been doing this since 2012 when I was known as Emilys Diary. But fr I enjoy drawing, and I love sharing my work, so it never really feels like a chore ;u; Of course, some days are more productive than others, but I have a thing where even if I am at my worst, I do at least 1 Tato drawing then I can sulk and feel bad 💖

[goldenroutledge]

if tomorrow never comes

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

prompt: ❛ i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just have a lot on my plate. ❜. based on this request.

summary: in which you and carlos drift apart and the tension boils over on your anniversary.

a/n: i’m having so much fun writing these requests! thank you to everyone requesting :)

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“When do you think you can be here, Carlos?”

His voice is tight on the other end of the line, knowing that you won’t like the answer. “An hour. Ninety minutes tops.”

You want to scream out and repeat his answer back to him so loudly that he can hear from the balcony of your shared apartment. It’ll let all of Monaco know how ridiculous he sounds. The flight attendant’s presence at the other end of the cabin helps you keep your composure. “And you’re sure that’s it? One hour?”

“Yes cariño, I promise.”

“Don’t call me that when I’m annoyed with you.”

“Can’t help it.” Carlos smiles cheekily, you can hear it in his voice. You can’t help but roll your eyes, feeling that he’s not taking you seriously. Postponing time spent together, sometimes venturing into canceling dates altogether, was becoming too frequent for your liking. But patience had to be your strong suit dating Carlos. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You end the call abruptly, leaving him to a last minute business meeting while you’re sitting here, awaiting your boyfriend on the private jet he has abandoned. Then again it would only be considered abandoned had he shown up on time to begin with.

He’d returned home from training yesterday exhausted as ever, yet reassured you with the promise that you two would spend a few days on a quiet getaway for your anniversary. Just the two of you, alone together. A trip you’d been planning for weeks now, with the need to make it an anniversary you’d always remember. If getting away was what it took to get Carlos to relax again, to be with you free of any distractions from work, you’d do that.

Carlos regards his career with a dedicated spirit, diligently organizing his schedule to make sure nothing falls between the cracks. His training, his sponsorships, his future at Williams… As badly as he feels to leave you waiting, duty calls. A last minute Zoom meeting with a new sponsor held him back at the apartment for longer than he anticipated. While most people have already resigned themselves to the fact that they can’t have it all, Carlos Sainz is not most people. He’ll either have everything, or die trying. It’s one of the many traits you love about him. Your heart aches at the thought of it being what tears you apart.

“Champagne?” The flight attendant offers you the drink, one of two that was meant for your celebratory toast with Carlos to kick off your anniversary trip.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day.” The flight attendant gives you a sympathetic smile, watching you down the drink with no effort. If this keeps up, it’ll be a long weekend too.

–

Once Carlos finally joins you on the plane, his ask for forgiveness is difficult to deny. He brought you a bouquet of flowers so large they took up their own seat on the plane, and he hadn’t stopped showering you with love since he arrived. Something about making up for lost time, he’d mumbled into your ear when you questioned his overwhelming affection. The colors of the flowers tied in beautifully with your outfit; Carlos was sure to capture it with a few photographs.

His attention to detail was another thing that you loved about him, it drew you in everytime. When you’re together like this, free of the outside noise, you wish it could last forever. Always on the other end of the phone or outside the airplane window is something ready to whisk him away. Ideally, an anniversary spent with him would consist of a lazy morning making breakfast together, simply basking in each other’s company.

His company was hard to enjoy when you were barely experiencing it, now sitting alone at your anniversary dinner hours later. Your mood turned sour when Carlos excused himself to take a call, walking away from the table before you had a chance to express your distaste. The tension that had been simmering between you two was bound to bubble over once again as Carlos returned to your table with a guilty look, phone to his ear as he ended his call with his cousin/manager.

You didn’t bother to look up, taking your anger out on your meal instead, poking and prodding the food with your silverware. It was a delicious meal that did nothing to deserve a brutal assault by fork and knife, ruining its picturesque presentation.

“Mi amor, I’m sorry.”

“Did you know that the more you say those words, the more they lose their significance each time?”

He sighs, running a stressed hand through his dark hair. “You know the kind of pressure that I’m under right now, cariño. How much this year has worn on me in general. Please, I just need you to be a little more-”

“Understanding? Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” You cut him off harshly, and the look you give him across the table is worth flinching from.

“You have. And I feel terrible, but it won’t last forever.” He attempts to soothe your worries, reaching for your hand. You don’t accept or deny his touch, you’re just still. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“You’re right, Carlos. It won’t last forever. You’ll make sure of it.”

“What do you mean by that? You think we’re going to break up?”

“I’m saying that if you don’t make time to nurture our relationship, there won’t be a relationship left! I’ve been here, Carlos. For you, for us, while juggling my own life and career, so don’t tell me it’s impossible. There was a time when you balanced it all before, when you weren’t working yourself to the bone because you decided you have something more to prove to the world.”

“I’m trying to balance everything, but it’s not always going to be smooth sailing. You know it’s not easy.”

“I know it’s not. I don’t need it to be, but I miss the days when you felt like our relationship was worth making time for. When I wasn’t the last of your priorities.”

“Maybe I miss the days when you understood that I’m not always going to be available for you 24/7.” Carlos rants, feeling defensive at how this time, the gloves are off, you’re finally letting Carlos feel the weight of the burden you’ve been carrying– loving enough for the two of you. Your pounding heart reminds you that it’s impossible to carry on like this. Something has to give. “Do you realize how much time I’m spending away from training to be with you? Is that not making time for our relationship?”

Tears prick your eyes in frustration, the air suddenly feeling warmer than before. Your nervous system begs you to get out of there, to leave the conversation before either of you say something you’ll regret. If it hasn’t been said already. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t even need any of this! I just want you! I remember the days when that wasn’t too much to ask for.”

Your hand has long dropped his, and Carlos’ eyes widen in panic as he watches you move out of your chair. “Amor, stay. Please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Confliction moves through you like a strike of lightning, torn between staying to talk it through or taking a moment of space, after pouring out the feelings you’d spent so much time locking away. The last straw is when your waiter approaches your table, holding a small cake in his hands. On the top of it is a picture of you and Carlos together on your first anniversary, more content and in love than ever. A candle burns on the cake and wax melts down the sides, resembling the tears that wish to fall. Carlos’ eyes plead with guilt, begging you to stay and forget. Smile and pretend that right now, you’re still that happy couple printed on the cake.

Instead, you throw your napkin to your plate. “I need some air.”

–

Carlos watches you go, he doesn’t stop you. A timeout will do you both some good right now. He tries to tell himself that it’s not that bad. Couples fight. But he sits there, sullen, knowing that he’s fucked up this time. His heart burns as he stares at the picture of you two on the cake. It’s unbearable, and that little surprise he orchestrated now feels like a pointed joke at his expense. He blows out the candle and the light goes out. But closing his eyes won’t help his fear of the dark. Even he can’t run from this.

He finds you outside of the restaurant, sitting on a bench, staring down into the renewing waters of the fountain. It’s mesmerizing, the way you can drown in the sight and get lost in the calming sound. He slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just have a lot on my plate. But that’s no excuse to put our relationship on the backburner. I’m so, so sorry.” Carlos presses a chaste kiss to your temple, and feels comforted by how you subtly lean into his space. It’s a step. “I love you, and I’m going to listen to you. I want to make this better because there’s not a life for me without you in it. I need you, cariño. I want to be with you, always.”

“I’ve felt so disconnected from you lately and being here on our anniversary, reminded of all the happier times we’ve shared, I just… that scares me. I’m scared we won’t get back there if there’s any more distance between us.”

“I should’ve seen it sooner. The truth is, I am able to do what I do because you’re always there. You support me when things are up, when they’re down. When I lost my seat, when I got sick with appendicitis, when I won races… you’re there for it all. I took you for granted thinking that I could give everything I have to my career, when it’s you who deserves it.”

“You do give it everything, but I think you’ve lost sight of things a little bit. Usually you give me everything you have too, I mean the little cake with us on it… I love that you did that for me, Carlos. I’m only so upset because I love you too.”

Those words haven’t stopped echoing in his mind. He swears he’ll engrave them into his brain forever, as long as you’re happy. “Maybe I have been overcompensating a little bit, feeling pressure to make things perfect in my career. The year has been difficult, but I couldn’t have gotten through without you.”

You kiss his cheek, warming up to his affectionate words. He’s sincere, he truly means them. “You’re more than enough, Carlos. Just the way you are. Weathering the storm isn’t always easy but there’s nobody else I’d rather be with either.”

“Can we start over?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

“I have an idea. Should I throw my phone into the fountain, cariño? You’ll have my undivided attention for days.”

“Tempting, but no. Keep your phone dry, my love. Would you be opposed to going back to the villa? Enjoying the rest of the night in?”

Carlos wiggles his brows, as he recognizes that familiar glint in your eyes. One that shimmers with hope and longing. “We do have a pretty sweet cake being boxed up as we speak.”

“Maybe we can light the candle again? I promise I won’t leave the room this time.” Your hearts soar at the thought of blowing out your candle together, hands held as you make a new promise to each other. The past years together have been bliss and the rainbows have always shined through the cloudy skies. The next years together, you will wish for the same and even more.

“Anything for you, cariño. Happy Anniversary.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you with no choice but to cup his jaw and bring your lips to his. The cool breeze outside is no match for either of you– you’ve got your love to keep you warm.

“Happy Anniversary, Carlos.”

💌: thanks for reading! reblogs & comments are very much appreciated :)

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[saraaisfree]

Colors of Us (Kwon Ji-Yong)

pairing: Kwon Ji-Yong x reader

category: fluff, slight angst if you squint

word count: 922

(inspired by this gorgeous hairstyle from 2022)

The days since your boyfriend returned from the military had settled into a familiar rhythm. You’d wake up late, wrapped in each other’s warmth, make a lazy breakfast, and talk about your plans for the day. Then, after work, you’d return home, cuddle on the couch, and fall asleep together.

It was peaceful. It was simple.

It was nothing like the whirlwind life you used to share.

Back then, the “rockstar” era of G-Dragon was in full swing—the partying never seemed to end, the tour schedule was relentless, and the constant travel blurred the days together. You watched how it drained him, how the weight of being a global icon never seemed to leave his shoulders. You did everything you could to support him, but sometimes, even you weren’t sure if it was enough.

Then, after his military service, everything changed.

When Ji-Yong came back, he wasn’t G-Dragon anymore. He was Kwon Ji-Yong—the boy you had fallen in love with, stripped of the fame, the cameras, and the noise. At first, he barely left your shared apartment, retreating into himself for months. He was quiet, hesitant, afraid of stepping back into a world that had moved on without him.

But now, three years later, things were starting to look up. A new BIGBANG song, Still Life, was about to be released, and you could see the spark returning to his eyes. It wasn’t just about making music—it was about reclaiming a part of himself.

And that’s how you found yourself standing in your tiny bathroom, bowls of vibrant hair dye scattered across the counter, preparing to give your boyfriend a brand-new look.

Ji-Yong leaned against the sink, watching as you mixed the first batch. His platinum blonde hair, still damp from washing, hung loosely over his forehead. The sight made you nostalgic—he had always loved experimenting with colors, but this time, it felt different. This time, it was a fresh start.

“So, what color should we do first?” you asked, turning to him with a grin.

He smirked, tilting his head in thought. “Whichever one you want, love. I trust you understand my vision, so just go crazy.”

“Dangerous words, Kwon Ji-Yong,” you teased, dipping a brush into a striking shade of electric blue. “I might just give you rainbow hair.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

And with that, you got to work.

The bathroom quickly became a chaotic mess—splashes of dye on the counter, smudges of color on your arms, and the occasional curse when Ji-Yong playfully nudged you mid-stroke.

“Hold still!” you scolded, carefully sectioning his hair. “Do you want this to turn out patchy?”

“You’re just enjoying bossing me around,” he teased, though he obediently stayed still.

Twenty minutes later, the masterpiece was complete. His hair, once a blank canvas, was now a blend of vibrant hues—red, blue, green, and purple melting into each other like an abstract painting. Ji-Yong blinked at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through the strands.

“Sooo, what do you think?” you asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

A slow smile spread across his face. “It’s perfect. You know me too well.” He turned to press a quick kiss to your lips.

You gasped. “Noo, you got hair dye on my face! Now I’m going to be stained green.”

Ji-Yong laughed, completely unapologetic. “It suits you.”

You huffed, rubbing your cheek dramatically. But before you could complain further, he hesitated, glancing at the leftover dye on the counter.

“Actually, I was wondering… Since we have extra bleach and colors… would you like to match with me?”

You froze. The idea was tempting—but then reality set in.

“Ji, I have an office job,” you reminded him. “I don’t think my boss will be thrilled if I show up looking like a human highlighter.”

He pouted. “Just this once? For old times’ sake?”

Damn him. Damn those pleading eyes.

You sighed, shaking your head with a fond smile. “Fine. But if I get fired, you owe me a lifetime supply of ice cream.”

His grin was immediate. “Deal.”

And so, an hour later, your own hair had undergone a similar transformation. Bright streaks of pink, blue, and purple now wove through your strands, blending into a colorful masterpiece that mirrored Ji-Yong’s.

“Now we really look like a power couple,” he mused, admiring your reflection in the mirror.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “We’ve always been a power couple.”

The two of you spent the next few minutes styling each other’s hair—him carefully tousling yours, you playfully running your fingers through his. Every so often, he’d steal a quick kiss, claiming it was “part of the process.”

When you finally finished, you snapped a picture together—Ji-Yong pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as you smiled at the camera.

You posted it with the caption:

“Some things never change, huh?”

Tomorrow, you’d deal with your boss’s reaction. Tomorrow, you’d worry about professionalism and consequences.

But tonight, you were just happy to fall asleep in your boyfriend’s arms, tangled together in the warmth of familiarity, in a love that had endured years of chaos and change.

Because some things really never did change.

[myerssimp21]

Iceberg's Jewel pt. 1

This is just another idea rattling around in my head! While this is still yandere Batfam, the premise is slightly different—here, they haven’t quite met you yet. The focus starts with Oswald Cobblepot and the Iceberg Lounge, but trust me, the Batfamily won’t be far behind. Timeline-wise, this would technically come first, even though in my other yandere Batfam fics, Tim and Jason have already had their moments with you. So yes, there will be a plot hole later where they’ve somehow already hooked up with you—just roll with it. Consider it canon-ish, but mostly just me playing around with ideas. tl;dr: This is a prequel of sorts to my other yandere Batfam fics, but I’m mostly here to have fun with the concept. Hope you enjoy! 💙 word count: 3201

Oswald Cobblepot prided himself on running a tight ship. The Iceberg Lounge was a beacon of opulence in Gotham, catering to a clientele that wanted their danger with a side of champagne. When he put out that little “Help Wanted” sign as a joke—an amusing way to signal to the people he was looking for that he was ready to onboard—he hadn’t expected someone like you to waltz in.

You were nervous but bright-eyed, clutching a copy of your résumé (how quaint) in one hand, wearing a Gotham University sweater that screamed student loans and part-time hustle. The smile you gave him when he walked into the lounge floor was disarming—too genuine for this city. You asked to speak to someone about the janitorial position, and Os had to bite back a laugh.

“A janitor? Here? Sweetheart, you might be too good for this place,” he muttered under his breath, too quietly for you to hear, before waving a hand dismissively at one of his goons. “Send her to my office.”

His office wasn’t where interviews were usually held—far too personal, far too… revealing. But for some reason, he wanted to gauge you himself. Maybe it was your naivete; maybe it was the way your gaze lingered on the crystal chandeliers and plush carpets like you’d never seen luxury this close before. You were looking at him as a normal boss, not a criminal mastermind, and he realized he might like that.

By the time you’d been seated in the chair across from his polished mahogany desk for only 15 minutes, he was already hooked. He asked simple questions at first—your availability, your experience—but quickly veered into territory that let him know more about you. Your classes at Gotham U were interesting, but you worked too much to fully appreciate them. You loved your psychology major but struggled with scheduling, hoping that the pay here was more than the measly pay you scrounged from your other two jobs. He listened with great interest as you spoke of your genuine excitement to be working in a "classy place like this."

He didn’t have the heart to tell you this place wasn’t really classy—just good at pretending.

Cobblepot tilted his head, the curiosity in his expression sharpening as he tapped a finger against the arm of his chair. “You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, a sly grin forming. “So, what do you think of our little city?”

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously, shifting in your seat. “It’s… something, that’s for sure. Gotham’s kinda like… I don’t know, a scrappy mutt? It bites, like, a lot, but you can’t help but wanna pet it anyway. It’s scrappy and loveable.”

Oswald chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Lovable?” he repeated, shaking his head. “You’re a strange one. Most people run for the hills when it comes to Gotham.”

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “I’m already here, so I might as well figure it out, y’know? Plus, it’s not all bad. I mean, the people are tough, and the city’s got… personality. A weird, messed-up personality, but still.”

He found himself appreciating your honesty. It was a rare thing in his world—people who weren’t either trying to butter him up or wring him dry. And that smile… Hm. Something about it didn’t belong here.

Then, the door to his office slammed open. A goon stumbled in without so much as a knock, huffing like a dog chasing its own tail as he fumbled a thick stack of papers in his hands.

Oswald snapped to attention so fast it was animalistic. One second, he was relaxed, bemused by you—the next, his face contorted with fury, his lips curling back in a snarl that made the dim office feel suddenly suffocating.

“What?” Cobblepot snarled, his tone cutting like ice. The very air in the room seemed to turn electric, humming with the promise of violence.

The goon froze mid-step, eyes darting between you and his boss. He looked like he’d just walked into an execution chamber by mistake.

Oswald’s teeth clenched so tight a vein throbbed visibly in his temple. “You knock before coming into my office,” he seethed, voice dropping to something far more dangerous than the initial explosion. Cold. Calculating. A blade slipping between ribs. “You wait. You don’t—”

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you.

Frozen.

Wide-eyed.

And just like that, the change was immediate.

His snarl vanished. The storm passed in an instant, like flicking off a switch. The barely-contained rabid rage that had been twisting his face smoothed into something almost… embarrassed. Guiltily casual.

Cobblepot glanced back at you, then at the goon, then back at you. For a brief, telling second, he looked—not regretful, but calculating. Then he sighed through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off an unpleasant thought.

"Handle it later," he ordered, voice abruptly warm. Silk-soft. As if he hadn’t just been inches from taking a man’s head off. His hand flicked lazily toward the door, a dismissive gesture. “Can’t you see I’m with someone?”

The goon scuttled out of the room like a kicked dog, the papers in his hands rustling violently as he clutched them to his chest.

The moment the door shut, Oswald let out a measured breath, as if centering himself. Then, in a whiplash-inducing shift, he turned back to you with an awkward, almost sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that,” he said, voice dripping with artificial sweetness, as if his outburst had never happened. He waved a hand, dismissing it entirely, his gaze keenly watching your expression for any lasting tension. “Some of my employees just don’t have any manners.”

You offered a polite, thin smile, still shaken, but brushed it off with a shrug. You had already figured this place wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming, but the speed at which his fury had vanished was... unsettling.

Oswald noticed.

He noticed everything.

And for the first time in a long, long while… he wasn’t sure if he liked the way your smile still had a hint of nerves clinging to it.

The Batcave was unusually quiet, save for the faint tapping of Tim’s keyboard and the low hum of the monitors. Bruce sat at the console, watching the live feed from Oswald Cobblepot’s office. You were seated across from the Penguin, a mixture of nerves and polite excitement etched on your face. The Iceberg Lounge’s chandelier lights reflected in your wide eyes as you gestured animatedly, your Gotham University sweater and résumé betraying your earnestness in a city that thrived on deception.

“Can’t decide if she’s brave or just clueless,” Tim remarked, leaning back slightly as he toggled between camera feeds. “She walked into Cobblepot’s lair with a résumé. A résumé, Bruce.”

“She’s a student trying to make ends meet. That’s not bravery—it’s necessity.”

Damian’s voice crackled through the comms. “She really responded to a ‘help wanted’ ad? Tt. Typical. Of course that bloated bird would choose a naive one. She’ll probably end up scrubbing vomit out of his VIP lounge carpets.”

Tim tutted thoughtfully at Damian’s comment. “I mean…..he’s probably aiming higher than janitorial work for her. Did you hear the way he sweetened his voice?”

Damian scoffed but didn't reply. 

A new voice broke in over the comms—Dick, speaking from his position on patrol. “You think she knows what she’s getting into? Working there isn’t exactly safe.”

“She doesn’t,” Bruce answered simply, “But that doesn’t make her unique. Plenty of people stumble into Gotham’s underworld without realizing it. We can’t save everyone.”

Tim muttered, “Still doesn’t mean we should ignore it. If Penguin’s targeting her for something, we’ll want to know why.”

Damian chimed in again, his tone slightly mocking. “We already know why, Drake. He likes his toys naïve, optimistic, and disposable. She won’t last a week before she gets a reality check—or worse.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward the feed as Cobblepot stood, offering you a hand and gesturing toward the door. “They’re moving,” Bruce said. “Tim, keep the office feed rolling, and find another camera angle.” 

“We won’t have audio and depending on where he’s taking her, I’m not sure we’ll have visuals either.”

There was a moment of silence, the kind that spoke volumes in the Batcave.

Dick broke it. “She’s smart enough to know what Cobblepot is, right? I mean, who walks into the Iceberg Lounge thinking it’s just a nightclub?”

“People who don’t know Gotham,” Tim replied, scrolling through files, soaking in what he can on you. “..She’s a psych major at Gotham U, full-time. She’s been juggling two jobs already, so she’s probably just desperate for the paycheck.”

Damian’s tone turned sharper. “Desperation or not, she’s still a fool. You don’t wear a sweater with your university’s name on it when you waltz into the lion’s den.”

Tim smirked. “Guess she didn’t take Gotham’s prerequisite: Street Smarts 101.”

The screen now displayed the empty office, Cobblepot’s desk abandoned. You were out of their sight, and for the moment, out of their reach. But the Batfamily wasn’t about to let you disappear into the darkness of Gotham without a trace. Tim was scrambling to find a feed that would give them info as to where Cobblepot’s taking you, but at the very least, they have relevant info on you.

Dick’s voice again. “Did you hear her in that interview? ‘Lovable but scrappy.’” He smiled faintly at the words. “She actually likes Gotham. We should keep it that way.”

Tim again, confirming some details. “Transferred to Gotham U from out of state. No criminal record, no red flags.”

Damian’s voice cut in, sharp and dry. “Other than walking into the Iceberg Lounge with a résumé. That’s a red flag for stupidity.”

Dick countered, his tone softer now. “She doesn’t know any better. Give her a break.”

Jason laughed, his voice snarky over the comms line from his own patrol. “Oh, sure, Grayson. Let’s all gather around and shield her from the big bad city. What’s next, care packages?”

Dick sighed audibly, “Don’t you have a crime boss to scare right now?”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Already done. You should’ve seen the look on his face. Priceless.” Another faint noise came through, likely the reloading of a gun.

Bruce’s voice cut through before Dick could respond. “Enough. Focus, Jason.”

“Whatever you say, B,” Jason replied breezily, though the teasing lilt was still in his voice. “I’ll keep an eye out, too, just in case our scrappy little friend stirs up any trouble at the Iceberg.”

Damian snorted. “I’ll enjoy seeing Cobblepot’s face when she quits.”

Bruce didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on your face, captured mid-smile on the monitor. Quietly, he murmured, “She’ll need another job. A safe one. I’m sure Wayne Enterprises will have something available for her.”

“Keep me updated,” Batman ordered as he stood, his cape swishing as he headed toward the Batmobile. “If she gets in over her head, we’re pulling her out. No debates.”

Damian’s voice came back, quieter this time, reluctant. “She’s already in over her head.”

Little did they know, Oswald Cobblepot’s schemes for you were the furthest thing from exploitative labor. In his mind, the idea of you actually toiling away with a mop and bucket was quickly becoming unthinkable—borderline offensive, even.

The moment he saw the way your eyes sparkled with hope and determination, and saw the way you'd listed your good grades on your resume in a hopeful attempt at impressing him and proving your aptitudes, he’d decided he’d let you sleep on the job if you wanted to. Hell, he’d set up a whole suite in the back of the Lounge if it kept you close and content. You could waste time dusting the empty liquor shelves or filing nonexistent paperwork all day if it made you feel productive. What mattered to him wasn’t what you did—it was that you were here, where he could keep an eye on you.

But of course, Cobblepot wouldn't admit that to himself. Not yet, at least. No, this was just “good business,” he rationalized. You were a valuable asset—your charm and friendliness were enough to lighten up even the Iceberg’s darkest corners. You had a way of making the whole place feel... welcoming and warm, like you were untouched by Gotham’s grime and crime. Plus you wanted to be productive. He scoffed under his breath, amused. Of course one of the first fresh faces ready to work at the Lounge was also someone who he didn’t dream of involving in his actual operations. Just his luck.

So, if you decided you needed an afternoon nap in the dusty janitorial closet? He’d send a goon to bring you a pillow. If you scoured the cleaning supply catalog for hours without actually ordering anything? He’d find it endearing. As long as you were happy and oblivious to the underworld swirling just beneath the Lounge’s polished surface, you could do whatever you wanted.

Unbeknownst to them all, while they debated your safety, Oswald was sitting back in his office, already plotting ways to make your life easier. Sure, he’d keep up the charade of being your boss for now—keep you busy with harmless tasks so you didn’t get suspicious. But he wasn’t about to let you work too hard. Not his sweet, naive new hire.

You didn’t belong in Gotham’s shadows. And as far as Oswald Cobblepot was concerned, he’d make sure you never had to find out just how dark they could get. Or at least, he’d try. 

By the time Oswald walked you to the janitorial closet—a tiny, forgotten room in the back of the lounge—he was already plotting how to keep you close. The closet was practically empty, a detail that normally wouldn’t bother him, but the way your face fell at the sight made him want to slap whoever was supposed to manage the damn place.

"Um… is this where I’m supposed to… work?" you asked softly, your voice unsure as you peeked into the empty closet. Your eyes darted around, taking in the barren shelves and dusty floor, as though you’d missed some hidden stash of supplies. "It just… doesn’t look ready yet?"

"Ah… this won’t do," he said quickly, covering his irritation with a smooth smile. "Looks like someone’s dropped the ball here. Don’t you worry about this, darlin’. I’ll get one of my guys on it—someone reliable. You’ll have everything you need to get started." 

His tone was honeyed, and though he aimed for casual reassurance, his sharp eyes flickered to the shelves like he wanted to set the whole closet ablaze for offending you. For fuck’s sake.

“No, no, this won’t do at all,” Oswald said again, shaking his head and clucking his tongue like he was personally offended by the state of the janitorial closet. “You deserve better than this mess, darlin’. I’ll have it sorted by tomorrow, you have my word.”

You blinked at him, “If you want me on the job today, I can make something work,” you offered tentatively, gesturing toward the dusty shelves. “I’ve been in worse spots before.” You gave him a sheepish smile, trying to seem accommodating.

Cobblepot scoffed softly, waving a dismissive hand. “No, no, absolutely not. I won’t have my new employee starting off in such... subpar conditions. It’s a poor reflection on me, and I can’t have that, now can I?” He straightened his tie with an air of exaggerated importance before leaning on his cane. “Here’s what we’ll do instead. You take the night to get familiar with the Lounge—on the house, of course. Have some drinks, relax, mingle a bit. Consider it my way of welcoming you to the team.”

You blinked again, even more confused. “Oh, um, that’s really generous, but shouldn’t I, like… fill out some paperwork first? Or sign something?”

Oswald chuckled, a warm, low sound that almost made you feel silly for asking. “Paperwork? We’ll handle all that boring nonsense tomorrow. No need to rush into the dull parts of the job, eh?” He gestured toward the door, ushering you back into the main lounge. “For tonight, enjoy yourself. Swing by the bar, meet some of the staff, maybe say hello to the security team. It’s important to me that you feel comfortable at the Iceberg.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was some sort of test, but his expression was disarmingly sincere. “Well… if you’re sure…”

“Positive,” he interrupted, clapping a hand on your shoulder with surprising gentleness. “Now, off you go. The night’s young, and the Lounge is at your disposal.”

As you stepped out of the closet and back into the opulent main floor, you glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you with a smile that seemed too genuine for someone of his reputation. You didn’t know him, but you’d heard some things. 

Unbeknownst to you, Cobblepot wasn’t just offering you free alcohol or a night to relax—he was staking his claim. He wanted you to feel at home, to see the Lounge as a safe haven, a place you’d always want to return to. Sure, there’d be paperwork eventually, but for now, the only thing that mattered was keeping you here, comfortable and unaware of the darker dealings hidden beneath the glamour.

Tim leaned back in his chair, toggling between the camera feeds inside the Iceberg Lounge. He was alone in the Batcave now, the others out on patrol in the city. “Well, there she is,” he muttered, zeroing in on his view of you at the bar. You were perched on a sleek barstool, your Gotham University sweater a stark contrast to the high-end fashion of the Lounge’s usual clientele. “She’s… drinking. A lot.”

Jason, freshly back from patrol—or what little of it he actually bothered to finish—sauntered into the Batcave, pulling off his helmet and setting it down with a thud. “That’s her?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.

“Yeah,” Tim replied without looking away. “You decided to show up?” His eyes flickered to the time down at the bottom of his monitor. "Thirty minutes early? B's not gonna be thrilled."

Jason ignored the jab, stepping closer to get a better look. “Huh,” he muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp eyes drank you in. You were laughing at something the bartender said, your cheeks flushed. You gestured animatedly with your glass while saying something they couldn't hear. “She doesn’t look like much.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Jason. “That’s what you cut patrol short for? To see her in person?”

Jason shrugged, his gaze fixed on you. “I was curious. Heard you and Damian going back and forth about her. Figured I’d check it out for myself.” His lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Didn’t expect her to be… this.”

Tim tilted his head. “This what?”

Jason gestured vaguely at the screen. “This… normal. Sweater, messy hair, drinking like she’s celebrating her midterms being over. Doesn’t scream ‘Iceberg Lounge material,’ y’know?”

Tim chuckled, toggling to another camera feed for a better angle. “That’s kind of the point. She thought she was interviewing for a janitorial position, Jason. Janitorial.”

Jason blinked, then snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “She walked in there with a résumé—an actual paper résumé—and asked about cleaning floors or whatever. Cobblepot probably laughed his ass off before offering her a drink.”

“He’s footing the bill by the way,” Tim added, toggling to a feed that showed the Penguin subtly watching you from across the room as he conversed with some guests. “She hasn’t reached for her wallet once. He’s just… letting her.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Penguin’s expression. There was no malice there yet, no obvious scheme in motion. Instead, Cobblepot looked almost… satisfied, like he was pleased with what he was seeing. “The hell’s his angle?” Jason muttered, his top lip curling in disgust at the possibilities.

“No idea,” Tim replied. “But if I had to guess? He’s trying to butter her up. Make her think the Lounge is a safe place, keep her happy and oblivious while he decides what to do with her.”

Jason scoffed, leaning back against the console.”She won’t last a week.”

Tim smirked. “You’re awfully invested for someone who just met her. Maybe you should prep a care package.”

“I didn’t meet her,” Jason shot back, though his eyes flicked back to the screen almost involuntarily. “I’m just saying, someone needs to give her a reality check before she gets eaten alive.”

“Maybe,” Tim said, watching as you swayed slightly to the music, chatting with another patron who’d joined you at the bar. “But she doesn’t look like she’s in danger. Yet.”

Jason grunted, pushing off the console and grabbing his helmet. “Yeah, well, I’m keeping an eye on this one. If Penguin tries anything, I’m ending it.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re helping? Didn’t you just skip the last half of your patrol?”

Jason smirked as he turned toward the exit. “Hey, monitoring Gotham’s underworld is part of the job, isn’t it? I’m just doing my part.”

Tim shook his head with a laugh as Jason disappeared up the stairs. “Sure you are.”

Back on the screen, you were oblivious to the scrutiny, to the way the curiosities of Gotham's vigilantes were beginning to blossom into something more.

[little-jana]

"A Valentine’s Surprise"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing

Words: 2k

Summary: You never expected much for Valentine’s Day, but Aaron Hotchner had other plans.

Valentine’s Day was never really a big deal for you. It was nice in theory, but grand gestures and romantic clichés always felt a little out of reach—especially dating someone like Aaron Hotchner.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t romantic. Quite the opposite, actually. He had his own way of showing love—quiet, steady, unwavering. He’d press a kiss to your forehead when he thought you were asleep, leave a cup of coffee on the nightstand for you in the mornings, and pull you close at the end of a long day without a single word.

But Valentine’s Day? With his schedule, you didn’t expect much.

So when you woke up that morning, finding nothing out of the ordinary, you shrugged it off. It was a workday for him, after all. You gave him a sleepy kiss before he left, told him to be safe, and went about your own routine.

What you didn’t know was that Aaron had a plan.

---

The first surprise came around noon.

Your phone buzzed with a text, and when you glanced at the screen, you saw his name.

Aaron: Check your front door.

Curious, you made your way over, unlocking the door and peeking outside. A small white box sat on the welcome mat, a neatly tied red ribbon wrapped around it. You bent down to pick it up, heart fluttering as you carried it inside.

Inside the box was a single chocolate-covered strawberry and a handwritten note.

"Something sweet to get you through the day. More to come. – A"

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. It wasn’t flashy, but it was thoughtful—so incredibly him.

---

The second surprise came a few hours later.

You were in the middle of a work call when another text came through.

Aaron: Be ready by seven. Dress warm.

Your stomach flipped. He hadn’t mentioned any plans earlier. You quickly responded, asking for details, but all he sent back was:

Aaron: Just trust me.

And you did.

---

By the time seven rolled around, you were dressed in a cozy sweater and your favorite coat, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

When you heard a knock at the door, you opened it to find Aaron standing there, looking unfairly good in his dark coat and suit. His tie was loosened just slightly, a hint of the long day he’d had, but his eyes were warm as they met yours.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly.

You smiled against his lips. “So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

---

The drive was peaceful, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between you. He reached over at one point, lacing his fingers with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin absentmindedly.

When he finally pulled into a small park, you glanced at him, confused. “A park?”

He just smiled. “Come on.”

You stepped out, shivering slightly at the crisp evening air, but when you turned back to him, he was already opening the trunk. To your surprise, he pulled out a thick blanket and a thermos.

Your heart melted instantly. “You planned a picnic?”

He shrugged, as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “I figured we could use a quiet night.”

You let him lead you to a secluded spot where he spread the blanket on a bench overlooking a small frozen lake. He poured you a cup of hot chocolate from the thermos, handing it to you before sitting beside you, close enough that his warmth seeped into your side.

For a while, the two of you just sat there, sipping your drinks, watching the way the stars reflected on the ice. It was peaceful, intimate, perfect.

“I know I’m not always good at… things like this,” Aaron said after a moment, his voice soft. “I don’t say it enough, but I want you to know how much I appreciate you. How much I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you turned to look at him. His expression was open, vulnerable in a way he rarely let himself be.

“Aaron…”

“I don’t take for granted how patient you are with my job, with my hours,” he continued, shaking his head slightly. “You make everything feel lighter, even when things are heavy. I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

Your eyes stung, overwhelmed by the quiet sincerity in his words. “You don’t have to do grand gestures, you know,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his face. “Just being with you is enough for me.”

His hand covered yours, his gaze searching yours in the dim light. “Still, I wanted to do something special for you.”

You smiled. “You did.”

He exhaled, relieved, and leaned in to kiss you. It was slow, lingering, filled with all the things he didn’t always know how to say.

When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You smiled, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Aaron.”

And as you sat there, wrapped up in each other, you realized—this was the best Valentine’s Day you’d ever had.

[whereisten]

French Maid

Summary: You feel a bit jealous after Johnny shows off his body at Paris Fashion Week. Are you really prepared to be the girlfriend of an idol as hot as he is? You're unsure. Johnny, however, reassures you that you're all his, surprising you with an interesting gift once he gets back.

Pairing: Idol!Johnny x female reader

Genre: smut, some angst in the beginning, fluff, comedy?

Warning: jealousy, cursing, stalking mention, smut: Johnny is a pervert in this, not irl! role play, dry humping, handcuff usage, sense play, fingering, oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink, penetration (unprotected sex), size kink, overstimulation, edging, rough sex (spanking), camera usage.

Work Count: 5.7K

(A/N: HAPPY JOHNNY DAYYYYY WOOOOO!! our shining star was born on this day 30 years ago omgggg im cry. I started this right after his appearance at Fashion Week last year when he wore that open jacket thing for Acne, and decided to finish it for his birthday! It's mostly smut (surprise!) but he is very loving as well. I hope you enjoy it!! ❤️)

--------------

“And do you have to show your tiddies off every time?” You flail your arms about as you walk through your apartment.

Johnny just got home from his Paris fashion week trip. He stunned hundreds of thousands of people with his dashingly good looks that you’re all too familiar with. And while you are happy for him, you can’t help but feel jealous. You have to share your gorgeous man with the world every now and then and it stings.

Johnny simply laughs and places his bags down. “You know how it goes, my love, gotta give the people what they want.” He then hears a loud exhale from the kitchen.

“What about a nice decent suit? You know, the old Patrick Bateman look? And then you put that pen in your mouth like do you know how many germs were on that?” 

You close the fridge door and pour orange juice out for him to drink along with the breakfast you made for him.

He sighs and leans back slightly while sitting on the edge of his bed, the smell of bacon and pancakes fills his nose. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Well, yeah you can’t survive off of croissants and baguettes, so I prepared something for you before I head to work.”

His eyes open. Shit…work. He’s jet lagged out of his mind from this quick round trip, he forgot it’s a normal weekday for you. A work morning to be exact.

He gets up and heads to the table.

“Can you call off?” He runs a hand through his hair.

“No..unfortunately it’s my turn to show off my tiddies at work.” You sip your coffee and lean back in the dining chair so your cleavage pokes through your button down shirt.

Johnny raises a brow. “Ohh..so it’s like that, huh?”

You nod before smirking. “Yeah..”

He shrugs and bites into his pancake. “I won’t stop you, but I will ask if you’d like to help me take a shower before you go..” he rolls his neck and looks onto you with low eyes. “I’m just so jet lagged, you know?”

You scoff. “Get one of your googly-eyed superfans to do it, they’ve already seen most of your naked body.” You get up from the table and head to the bathroom to finish your makeup.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart!” Johnny chuckles. He seems to be pushing it too far with you lately, giving fans a glimpse into what you have the privilege to see at any time. He knows it makes you feel special, the truth is, you are. But just because fans see him like this every now and then doesn’t mean they can be his girlfriend. They’re not even close. You know this.

He knocks on the wall beside the bathroom door after finishing breakfast. 

“That was really good..thank you.”

“Eh.” You say while finishing your lipstick.

“You sure you don’t wanna spend some time with me today? I don’t have any schedules til tomorrow..I’m all yours.” He smiles and leans his head against the door as he takes in your beauty.

“No.”

He pouts. “Come on, sweetheart, you know I’m only yours, right?”

You put the lipstick down and turn to him. “Are you?”

He nods and steps closer, but you brush past him into the bedroom.

He sighs, taking his t-shirt off over his head as you put your shoes on.

“Check the suitcase before you leave.” He yells out over the sound of the shower running.

“Huh?!” You hesitate to grab your purse.

“You didn’t think I’d come back from the city of love empty handed, did you?”

You unzip his luggage and see a large white gift bag inside. A smile creeps across your face as all sorts of possibilities come into your mind. A new purse? A cute pair of shoes? A painting from the Louvre? Who knows!

But as your hands pull out what’s inside, your smile starts to fall slightly. The box is light, too light to have shoes or a purse inside. Not even a gown could fit in there.

The sparse and scanty pieces of clothing inside make your head tilt. “What the hell is this?” The shower is too loud for Johnny to hear you.

*clink*

Something drops out of the bundle.

Fluffy…handcuffs? 

“Oh.” Your eyes widen.

You start to arrange the pieces in a way you think makes sense and there it is. A slutty French maid outfit with a bustier and stockings to match. There are cat ears and a clip on tail that causes you to chuckle. But it’s strange because..it’s not in your size..it’s in his.

You can’t contain your laughter. You step back from the bag to clutch your stomach. Johnny had truly outdone himself this time.

A few minutes later he comes out of the bathroom with just his towel around his waist and his hair still wet. He doesn’t look around for you, figuring that you’re at work by now.

His head tilts when he sees the outfit laid out on the bed neatly. He laughs to himself. “And she still went to work..”

You clear your throat. “No I didn’t..I’m right here.”

Startled, he turns to see you standing in the bedroom doorway. You’re wearing your red lingerie set with the matching lace gown over it. And he silently goes crazy when he sees the red garter belts hugging your thighs tightly, making a mental note to remember to drag them off with his teeth later.

He swallows hard. “You called out..for me?”

You smile and nod. “Yeah..you’ve got some making up to do..work can wait.”

He blushes then rushes towards you with his arms out. “Babe..you look amazing.”

“As do you..” you look up at him over you now. You finally kiss him after holding back all this time, holding his warm face in your hands. He kisses you passionately, turning his head to swallow your tongue like waiting for what feels like centuries. You moan as your bottom lip meshes with his and your body becomes weak. He holds your ass tightly in his large hands.

As he pulls away for a short break, spit falls onto your chin. You push yourself up closer to him, wanting, no, needing more. Kissing was another talent the giant had, only you knew that. He lunges forward again, moaning against your lips before biting it suddenly. You whimper, your hands reach around his back and rest on his broad shoulders.

But you can’t forget what you really want. You pull back. 

His mouth falls open as he breathes heavily. “What’s wrong? Too hard? Too messy?” He's already doubting how good he makes you feel.

“No..no it was perfect, Johnny, you’re perfect..”

His eyes crinkle and he leans in again, but you back away.

“Put that on first..” you whisper while staring at his lips now red with your lipstick.

He nods. “Oh..you want me to do that..now?”

You look up with round, boba like eyes that you know he can’t resist. “Only if you aren’t too tired..”

He shakes his head. “I’m never too tired for you, baby.” 

He practically gallops towards the bed, but turns to you. “Can I get some privacy please? I’ll call for you when I’m ready.” He says with a sass you never imagined he could have.

You nod and close the door, then sit patiently in the living room. You’d never made love to man in a feminine cosplay before, but you were excited for some reason. A 6-foot something man is wearing a slutty costume just for you. Does it get any hotter than that?

A few minutes later you hear a knock. “Housekeeping!” Johnny calls out.

You laugh and walk in. The white and black dress hugs his waist perfectly over the bustier and his tail clings to his back side.

His toned thighs stick out from under the *very* short hem of the dress, barely being held together by his own lace garter belt. You never imagined he’d look amazing in stockings. But he’s Johnny, of course he’d look good.

He has a feather duster in hand. He pays close attention to the dust on your lamps and nightstand and you’re wondering if he’s taking the role play a little *too* seriously. 

Nonetheless, you play along too. “Excuse me…you missed a spot.”

Johnny nods and rushes to your side where you point to a spot on the dresser. He stares intently, moving the feathers over the spot. 

“Hmm lower..there’s another spot.”

He nods and bends down to see.

“I don’t see the spot, ma’am” he says innocently.

“Oh you’re really bad at this.” You chuckle then move to stand behind him.

You grab his waist and push onto his ass. “Lower..bend down.”

With one hand, you reach around his front side and under his skirt; just brushing over his tip.

“Oh!” He jumps at the feeling of your soft hand on him.

He stands up straight then turns around to you. “I got it.”

“Hmm I think it took you too long to get, why should I have to tell you how to do your job?”

Johnny smiles as you try to be intimidating. It’s cute, and he can’t stop his heart from racing. What’s your plan with him all dressed up like this? He’s not sure, but it feels good to not be the one in charge.

“I think it’s time you were reprimanded for your failures.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re..filling this out” you laugh out while looking at his double d’s pressed together in the black and shiny bustier.  

“Thank you, it’s a little uncomfortable , I can’t believe you guys do this every day.” He smiles widely, then lowers his face down towards yours. 

You step back. “No no..on the bed.”

He crawls onto the bed quickly, giving you a glimpse of his ass in the red thong that came with the costume. You turn your head and laugh, but quickly regain your seriousness.

You pluck a feather from the duster while humming to yourself. 

He lays down on his back, leaning on a few pillows as he watches you climb over him. 

“Safe word?” You ask him.

He nods. “Vanilla.”

You nod.

“Hmmm where should we start?” You say as his hands roam over your ass, pushing the hem of your night dress up slightly.

“I’ve been very bad..what will you do to me?” His honey brown eyes are wide and stare at you intensely, but they don’t hide the fact that he’s biting his rouge stained bottom lip and squeezing your ass. It’s like he’s begging to be punished.

You smirk back and grab the handcuffs.

“Well of course we’ll have to restrict your freedom first. Show me your hands.”

He lays his arms out towards you. You slap on one cuff, then lean over him so you can wrap the chain around a small section of the headboard. 

The second cuff locks around his wrist, keeping his arms above his head and attached to the headboard so you can get to work.

You sit back and smile at him. “There..much better.”

Just barely hidden behind the veil of your lace gown and lingerie is your gorgeous body above him, it’s his religion. He needs you like the Earth needs water.

“Damn..I wish I could touch you.”

“Only good boys get to do that.” You lean down and kiss him, hovering over his crotch, just high enough to not touch him yet.

“Hmm..” you lean forward and press your lips against his. As expected, he dives into you, exploring your tongue and lips like it’s the first time.

You widen your legs a bit more so your opening finally rests on his lace-covered dick. The thin fabric of your thong and his thong and skirt being the only things to separate your skin.

You move back and forth slowly while caressing his arms above his head.

He tugs against the cuffs, already begging for a little more friction between the two of you down there. He groans when he realizes he can’t get you to press down harder.

You pull away. “Tsk tsk so impatient, you said you’re all mine for the day right?”

“Yes, but give me a little more, please baby..I need you…ahhh..just..a little..lower.”

“You need me?” You pout, distracting him from the fact that you’re pulling his bustier down to reveal his nipples. You then dangle the feather above one and circle around it. 

“You’re so pretty with red lipstick, baby” you say to him.

“I think I should add some more..” you kiss and suck on his neck slowly while playing with the feather, coating his skin with hot, breathy whispers in between. “What do you need from me?”

He draws in a sharp breath, feeling the delicate feather dance around his sensitive nipples.

“I need you..need you so badly..”

His head falls back as he feels your soft lips place wet kisses along his body. 

“Be more specific..”

He pulls against his handcuffs and pants. “Your body..fuck me please..I need it.”

You grind down onto him harder, feeling his shaft hard as a rock against you.

He groans. “That feels good baby.”

“Does it?” You look up at his clenched jaw line. “Should I go lower?”

He nods. 

“But first…” you flick your tongue out on top of his nipple and around it, gaining a shaky breath. His head falls back. You lick and suck harder as you find his cock below you. You run your hand down his abs, applying just a bit of pressure then dip your hand into his thong, stroking him slowly, so slowly he groans and bites his bottom lip. The sensation of your warm mouth on his chest is different for him, but feels good.  

“Please..more, sweetheart..a little faster.” He bucks his hip up in an effort to push you to go faster. 

“I bet you wanna feel me around you..”

You can feel him twitch under you.

You lick your lips. “What if I don’t let you cum tonight?”

He frowns. “Baby..” he whines “but I’ll be a good boy for you..I-I’ll do anything for you, you know that.”

You caress his desperate face with your hand and look into his large eyes. “Sweetheart..you couldn’t even dust the nightstand properly.”

He licks his lips. “I'm sorry, baby, give me another chance. I’ll make it up to you..just take these things off.” He pulls forward again. His tone grows dark with that last statement. It’s as if he isn’t asking, but is demanding you take them off.

You’re really riling him up. You chuckle and lean forward.

You kiss his neck, but make sure not to bite his skin, his manager would kill both you and him if he showed up to work with a necklace of hickeys.

“You like it when I touch you, huh?” You whisper into his ear.

He nods quickly before moaning. 

“How about when I taste you?”

He nods again and watches as you lower your face to his hips. You flip his skirt up and kiss his tip.

“Fuck..” a breath leaves him once your round lips circle his tip and lick the pre-cum leaking from out of it. It’s more than you’ve given him so far, but it still isn’t enough.

His abs flex as he breathes heavily.

You draw a long stripe up his shaft. “How is it, baby, still good?”

“Yes..so good..just a little more..”

“You gonna beg for me again?” You tease him and lick once more.

He fidgets. “Yes, baby, please, I’ll do anything.” You hear the chains of the handcuff struggle against the headboard. “Just let me see you.”

With your head hidden under his skirt, he can’t see the satisfying way your mouth takes him in. He can’t see you choke as he enters your throat over and over. He truly did not think about the ramifications of wearing such an interesting costume for you, and it’s starting to annoy him.

“No can do, my love..” you swallow him now, bobbing up and down while using your two hands to cover what can’t fit.

He can hear you gag and see your back arch as your ass sticks up in the air for him to look at, and it almost makes him feel better about not seeing your head. But he still tries to get out of the handcuffs.

He fills your throat up, making you choke, but you struggle through it, moaning to send vibrations that you know will push him along.

He moans. “That’s it..yes..keep going..”

You move faster as he curses.

You can feel yourself growing hotter. You could just bounce on it to bring you both to your long awaited release, but that would be too easy. Today is different.

He groans louder and before he can finally release, you pull up from him and take his skirt off of your head.

He frowns. “Baby please..” he begs as he pants.

You shake your head while breathing heavily. “Do you think you deserve it?”

He nods “Come here, let me taste you too.” You’re not surprised he wants to do the 69 position on a random morning, but today is not that day.

You chuckle and lift his skirt over your head again.

He draws in a sharp breath. “Yes..”

You continue to bob your head up and down. He nearly loses it when you swallow him whole, but he focuses on breaking his handcuffs quietly, loudly groaning to cover up the clinking sound of plastic.

The sounds you make are lewd. Your mouth and jaw become messy, spit building up as you work on him. He’s so close, but just like before, you pull off of him.

“Ohh..oh my God..” he shuts his eyes tightly. “I don’t know how much more I can’t take, baby.” And you can tell he isn’t lying because of the way sweat coats his forehead. But you know you get the most out of him after denying him for a bit, so you truly have no regrets.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “That’s too bad..should we just stop now?”

“No! No.. baby, at least, let me taste you please..I know it’s dripping down your legs by now. Don’t you want me to help you with that?” He asks so innocently, and you fall for it. Your throat was sore and needed a break from taking in his monster dick after all.

You remove a pillow from behind his head before kneeling over his face and lowering yourself carefully. You then push the fabric covering your opening to the side.

He moans loudly. “Yes, baby..just like that.” You start to ride him and throw your head back while he moans against you. His mouth kisses you just as well as it did before. Only this time, his tongue licks over that one spot. You know you’ll see stars soon. You close your eyes and gasp. 

You don’t notice that he’s broken the plastic handcuffs easily because he still has his hands around the headboard.

You aren’t putting all your weight on him and it bothers him that you aren’t relaxed although he’s begged you to be many times before when he’s asked you to ride his face. So, he takes matters into his own hands.

He pulls free and flips you over, holding both wrists tightly so you can’t push his head away.  

Your eyes widen. How and when did he break-free? You grunt. 

“Ohh you’re that impatient..what a bad boy.” You ruffle your hand through his hair.

He lifts his head up and looks onto with dangerous, low eyes. You’ve never seen him so..hungry. 

“Yes..I’ve been waiting since I departed that airport.” He practically growls. Oh, you’re in for it now. Your pathetic, pleading puppy eyed boy just left the building. He takes another deep dive, licking and kissing you like he’s been aching for the opportunity. 

You moan. 

He takes a break so he can lean back and chuckle at the shock in your eyes. He then hooks his fingers into the waistband of your thing and drags it down your legs.

“Been thinking of how deep I want to go, how tight I’m gonna hold you until you can’t think of anything but me.” He dangles the wet fabric in the air on one finger then holds it to his nose. “Ahh fuck…you smell amazing.”

Your legs try to close as you become more aroused by his pervy actions, but he holds you open with his knees prying you apart.

He takes in a deep breath to drink in your natural scent. “I haven’t done this in a while”

You bite your bottom lip.

“When you invited me over the first time, I stole that frilly pink and purple panty of yours…” he leans forward again and kisses your stomach while looking up at you. 

“It smelled delicious..” he kisses your thigh next. You tremble as his hands hold your waist.

He then speaks over your pussy. “The first night..I held it to my nose as I came into my hand.” his tongue draws a stripe along your slit. You gasp.

“Johnny..” you whimper.

“The second night..I did the same thing only this time..I watched you through the window..you were getting undressed after our date that night. I left you with just a kiss because you weren’t ready yet..but I made sure to leave your blinds open. You started putting lotion on your body..and I wished it were my hands..”

He uses his index and middle finger to open you up more then dives in again, licking more vigorously as his nails dig into your soft, warm skin to hold you still.

“That’s..wrong.” You grind onto his face while moaning out.

“And yet, you’re still here..I think you like having a pervert eat you out..” he kisses your thigh again.

“Johnny..l”

“You should know I still have it..and I take it with me for every trip.” He then moves his head faster, his tongue exploring every inch of you.

“Johnny..I’m close, fuck.” You move your hips in circular motions to get more friction against your sweet spot.

“Go ahead ..I’ve been waiting.”

Your back arches, it’s all becoming too much for you, but before you can push his head away. He grabs your hands.

And when you finally climax on his wonderful mouth, he continues to hold both wrists with one hand and attaches the handcuffs to them with the other.

You lay in the plush bed, panting as you come down from it all.

“Ahh what a beauty.” He kisses the inner part of your thighs and kneels in front of you. Your eyes open and reality sets in that you’re the one that’s bound now.

He watches you as you look at his tip peeking beneath the skirt, then laughs at you for being so lustful for it. He unclips his garter belt and slides his thong off before tossing it to the side where yours is.

He then lays down beside you, propping his head up with one hand.

His fingers trace down your abdomen gently as he opens your cover up and unhooks your bra from the front so he can see all of you. 

“Now..it’s time for room service right?” He bites into your thighs and listens to you moan.

He pulls your bra down and kisses your nipples. He then picks up a feather and delicately circles around your hard nipples now to return the favor. 

You draw in a sharp breath. “Johnny..” 

He watches the way you shiver and goosebumps raise. Your legs tighten while you fidget. You bite your bottom lip, unsure of how much teasing you can take. 

He drags the feather up and down your abdomen. You close your eyes tightly. 

“Nuh uh look at me.” He pinches a nipple to get your attention. “I’m giving you 5 star service, don’t look away.” He chuckles and runs his thumb over your bottom lip

“Next on my to do list..hmmm should I fuck you?” He drags the feather down your abdomen and to your hips, his eyes tracing over your curves. Over every inch that drives him wild.

You nod.

“Speak when I’m talking to you..” his eyes grow dark suddenly. This was the power Johnny had. He could easily turn the tables on you in seconds..even while wearing furry cat ears. He put this comical outfit on to trick you into thinking you’d be in control this time. But no..oh no, you were so wrong.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what?” His fingers replace the feather now. Tracing down your belly and to your apex. He cups your pussy then presses his middle and ring fingers in while sliding up and down.

You look down at his veiny arm, but his other arm sneaks around head, his hand holding your chin to turn your face back to him. 

“Look at me..I won’t ask you again.” he growls and it sends chills down your spine.

You bat your lashes and look into his eyes. you whimper as his fingertips dig in deeper. 

“Fuck me, Johnny” 

“Hard or soft?”

At this point, you’re mindlessly rutting against him, moving against his hand as you chase your climax greedily.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t—doesn’t matter, just fuck me..please..” you beg so beautifully it’s like music to his ears. And with that combined with how silky wet you are, he almost loses it, but instead he pulls his fingers out and massages your clit.

You throw your head back. “Fuck..I’m gonna..”

“Y/n..tell me what you want.. I have to make sure you’re satisfied with the service, don’t I?” His fingers move faster as he speaks over your open mouth.

You lose your breath, panting as you’re about to crash again. He already knows your answer, but he wants to hear you say it, wants to hear you beg for it. He slows his movements.

“Johnny please..I just���”

“You don’t get to cum until you answer the question.” He starts to speed up again, knowing you can’t possibly hold back.

“Hard!! I want it hard!” You finally scream out and with that your climax crashes over you. Johnny chuckles as he watches you make a mess while squirming in his arms.

He kneels over you again and grabs his phone from the nightstand beside the bed.

“I miss you so much when I’m away, I want to have something to keep me company.” He takes a picture of you while he rests in between your legs. 

He then flips you over, makes you arch your back but puts a pillow under you.

“Are you ready for me?” His hands caress your ass.

You hold yourself up on your elbows with your wrists bound in front of you. “Yes.” You whine.

He enters you swiftly. Slamming your ass against his hips.

You cry out and fall forward after the harsh attack. He didn’t give you a chance to adjust, but he stays in so he can feel all of you. You can already feel tears coming to your eyes after the initial pain of penetration.

He holds onto the headboard for stability then takes another picture of your body from this angle then tosses his phone. “Perfect.”

He grunts as he drives into you, staying for a moment before pulling out to do it again. You whimper, your body growing weak under him already. You start to feel yourself open more, but it’s still not enough.

“Johnny!! Ahh! You’re too big, it hurts..”He’s thick and long, all you can do is cry into sheets as he stretches you. Fortunately for him, he knows you’d really say the safe word if you were uncomfortable, so he keeps going. 

“Keep whining, it only makes me harder.” He growls.

“Please..I don’t think I can...” your chest heaving as you try to collect your nerves.

He spanks your ass, causing you to yelp and cry harder. “You wanted the biggest and best because you’re greedy..right?”

All you can do is whine.

“Making me do all this just because I missed a spot.” He then holds your waist to turn you on your back so he can see you drooling with glossy eyes. 

“And now you want me to stop? It’s too late, baby..I’m gonna make sure you’re too full to ask for more.” Your breasts, pushed together after resting in-between your bound arms, move beautifully with each rough thrust and your moans grow louder. 

You look even better with your hands tied together, so he notes how he likes this restricted look on you. Normally, you’d be swatting his hands away or digging your nails deep into his back. You’re completely at his mercy this time, you’re basically his pretty doll to fuck as he pleases, to touch as he pleases.

He cups a breast with his cold hand and rubs his palm over your nipple. His tongue licks his bottom lip as he squeezes you gently. You moan his name again. You feel pretty and adored under his gaze. You may get upset with him sometimes, but only he could make you feel this good.

He then lowers his hand down to your stomach. 

“Look at my girl, you take me so well, you kept this pussy warm for me, right?” He throws a leg over his shoulder and the new angle finishes you. He holds your ankle with one hand then presses his fingers into your cheeks with his other hand. 

“You should see yourself right now..crying and drooling..you’re making a mess..but it’s just how you like it, right?”

He snaps his hips even harder. The headboard knocks against the wall repeatedly and a small part of you starts to worry about the noise complaint you’ll receive later. You breathe heavily and whine louder. He groans louder in response. Yup, definitely gonna get that complaint.

He makes you feel more and more empty headed with each passing second. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Only mousy noises escape in between the sounds of him entering you deep. You feel dizzy, but in complete bliss.

He tilts his head and smirks. “You had so much to say earlier, cat got your tongue?” 

Yes, he’s a bit corny, but something about Johnny ruining you while wearing a skimpy costume and skirt makes this all hotter. His nipples are hard and stick out above his lowered bustier while his small waist is neatly cinched. His skirt covers where your two bodies meet but it doesn’t matter, you can still hear him pounding into you like he wants to build a new bed from IKEA later.

“Ahh Johnny..” you whimper once more, your voice going up several pitches while your breath is caught in your throat. His hand lets go of your cheeks and caresses your other breast.

“You crying for me? You’re so wet..Still too much for you?” His thumb plays with your nipple.

You shake your head.

He smiles sadistically. “That’s my girl.”

The hand on your ankle slides down to the inside of your knee, he leans down closer to your face, pressing your knee into the bed beside it. You had no idea you could be this flexible until you met him.

He kisses your ear then whispers. “I saw so many beautiful women but all I could think about was you. I need you baby, keep me in..fuck..” He bites your neck hard. 

Curse words flow out of his mouth as he gets ready to climax with you. His hand squeezes your waist, holding you down while you tremble with him still deep inside.

You practically yell his name as you ruin the sheets under you.

He quickly opens your handcuffs then lays down beside you, giving you long strokes instead of his short, harsh ones. “How is it baby, is it good?” He fondles your breasts while hugging you tightly from behind. He decides it’s time to switch to soft. 

He has enough energy to keep going hard, but in this moment, he wants to let you feel loved, because you are. He drapes your leg over his then massages your belly, inching closer and closer to your apex. He reaches your clit and draws deep circles slowly.

He kisses your neck and whispers. “Tell me I’m a good boy, baby..I make you feel good, don’t I?”

You can’t do anything but nod fervently. 

He starts to go faster. “Baby..please..say it for me.”

You moan, your hand reaches around behind you and to his hair. “Y-You’re a good boy..so good.”

His hips move faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with both your whimpers fills the air.

“It’s good like this, right? I love you, baby.”

Your eyes shut tightly. “I love you too..so much!” A sudden burst of pleasure overwhelms your body. You shake in his arms.

“I’ve got you..breathe with me..good girl..” he whispers and slows his pace while cumming with you. You breathe deeply then turn your head to kiss him. His arms wrap around your waist as you both climax finally, the combined essence gushing out of you like never before.

“That’s it..my pretty girl.” He pulls out before kissing your ear. “I missed you.”

You groan and pant. “I missed you too, baby.”

“How are you feeling?” He kisses your neck.

“I’m..let’s just say I don’t think I can go to work tomorrow either.”

He takes in the scent of your hair. “Ooo in that case, shall we have another go?”

Your eyes widen. He just destroyed you, you're not even sure if you can stand up straight for more than 5 seconds. “Slow down there..we gotta clean up first.”

“Okay!” He lowers himself to the apex of your legs, his hands slowly parting your thighs as he wets his lips.

“Johnny..baby, that’s not what I mean.” 

He drags your garter belt down with his teeth while looking up at you.

Your head falls back, but it’s too late, he’s already “cleaning up” and within minutes you’re gripping his hair and crying til you’re hoarse.

The End

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, I absolutely love your writing! PA series is my absolute favourite! Would you consider writing about Y/N who's struggled with anxiety her entire life? Maybe Jamie comforts her during a stresfull situation or she helps him deal with his own anxiety?

Steady Hands

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, angst, anxiety

A/N: Thank you for the request! Let's explore a different side of Y/N! Btw this is just an in-between chapter not relevant to the timeline!

The most challenging things for Y/N to do as Jamie Tartt's assistant were his ever-changing schedule, his tendency to forget important appointments, and his occasional moments of existential dread when he thought too hard about his legacy. Y/N was usually Jamie's rock, there to comfort him and care for him...

So it was rather unusual when Jamie had to comfort her.

But life had a funny way of flipping things on their head.

Y/N had always been good at keeping things together. She had to be. Anxiety wasn’t something she could just turn off, but she’d gotten good at managing it—breathing exercises, staying organized, making lists. Keeping herself busy helped.

And working for Jamie? That definitely kept her busy.

But today, no amount of planning or deep breathing could stop the weight pressing on her chest, the way her hands trembled at her sides.

It had started with a simple mistake. One email. A scheduling error. A time slot mix-up that meant Jamie had been double-booked for an interview and a sponsorship meeting.

She’d caught it too late. The PR team was annoyed. The sponsors were furious at her. And even though Jamie himself had just shrugged and said, “S’alright, babe. We’ll just move one of ‘em, yeah?” she couldn’t stop the overwhelming guilt flooding her.

She should have caught it earlier. She should have double-checked. She should have—

“Oi.”

A voice pulled her from her spiral, and suddenly Jamie was in front of her, brow furrowed in concern.

She must have zoned out, standing frozen in the hallway outside Rebecca’s office.

His voice was softer this time. “You alright, love?”

Y/N swallowed, forcing a nod. “Yeah. Just—long day.”

Jamie didn’t look convinced. His gaze flickered to her hands—still trembling slightly, even as she tried to hide them in her pockets.

And Jamie—who was normally all charm and banter, all teasing remarks and cheeky grins—just watched her for a moment, quiet and assessing.

Then, without a word, he reached out and took her hand.

Not in the usual Jamie way, either. Not the casual, half-distracted way he sometimes grabbed her wrist to pull her toward a meeting, or the playful handshake they always did after a good game.

This was different.

His fingers curled around hers, steady and warm, grounding her.

“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging her toward the empty boot room just off the hallway.

The door shut behind them, muffling the noise of the club.

Jamie didn’t let go.

“You’re freakin’ out, love,” he said simply. Not a question—just a fact.

Y/N let out a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

Jamie tilted his head, watching her. “Ain’t sugarcoatin’ it. Just sayin’—you’re freakin’ out. And you don’t need to.”

Her breath hitched slightly. “Jamie, I fucking messed up. That’s—”

“So?” Jamie cut in, voice easy. “People mess up all the time.”

She shook her head, looking away. “Not me. I can’t mess up.”

Jamie frowned. “Why not?”

“Because.” Her voice was too sharp, too fast. She took a shaky breath. “Because if I mess up, it means I’m not good enough. And if I’m not good enough, then—”

She stopped herself.

Jamie was still holding her hand, standing right in front of her. Still watching her, his expression unreadable.

Then, quietly he says:

“That’s bollocks, you know.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “All that shit you just said. Bollocks. You do get to mess up, Y/N. Doesn’t mean you ain’t good enough. Just means you’re human.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Jamie—”

“Look.” He squeezed her hand, firm and steady. “I forget shit all the time. I mess up interviews, I miss appointments—you’re literally paid to fix my fuck-ups. And you do. Every time.”

She let out a small, reluctant laugh.

Jamie grinned and softly caressed her smiling cheeks. “There she is. There's my girl.”

The weight in her chest eased just a little.

Jamie’s grin softened. “You’re fuckin’ brilliant, alright? One little mistake don’t change that.”

She exhaled, shoulders loosening. “You’re… actually kind of good at this.”

Jamie smirked. “Course I am. Y’think I don’t know what it’s like?”

She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

Jamie hesitated. Just for a second.

Then, with a small shrug.

“I get in my head sometimes too, yeah? Before big matches. When I’m knackered and feel like I ain’t doin’ enough. I start thinkin’—what if I fuck up? What if I lose? What if I ain’t good enough?”

Y/N stared at him. She’d never heard him say anything like that before.

Jamie scratched the back of his neck. “Dunno. Just—sometimes it helps when someone reminds me it’s all in my head.”

Y/N’s chest ached.

She squeezed his hand. “Jamie.”

He met her eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you this,” she said softly, “but you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Jamie blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. “Oh.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Well. You ain’t so bad yourself.”

Y/N huffed a laugh.

Jamie squeezed her hand one last time before letting go.

“Right,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “Now, d’you wanna get outta here? Go get some food or summat? Reckon you need a break.”

Y/N hesitated. “Jamie, I still have work to—”

“Oi. Shut up.” Jamie poked her cheek. “S’not a request. We’re goin’.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh my god, I hate you.”

Jamie grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Liar, you fucking love me.”

She might really fucking do...

[luvfae]

CENTRE STAGE

summary: you’re thanos favourite backup dancer, the catch? you don’t want him. well… you like to pretend you don’t.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: this is a long one, smut, oral (reader receiving), fingering, choking, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy), swearing

The bass reverberated through the stadium, shaking the floor beneath your feet. You moved with the beat, body fluid, perfectly in sync with the other dancers. It was muscle memory at this point—hours of grueling rehearsals had carved the choreography into your bones.

And then there was Thanos.

Center stage. Soaking up the spotlight like he was born in it.

You weren’t blind—you knew he was attractive. Tall, sharp jawline, dark eyes that glinted with mischief and something more dangerous underneath. His presence was undeniable, the kind of charisma that made people lose their minds over him.

But you weren’t one of those people.

Which was why, when he shot you a cocky smirk mid-performance, you rolled your eyes and looked away.

You missed the slight falter in his steps.

Backstage was chaos. Sweat, adrenaline, the quick shuffle of dancers moving between costume changes. You were peeling off your jacket when you felt someone step into your space.

“Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?”

You turned, already knowing who it was.

Thanos stood in front of you, arms crossed, a glistening sheen of sweat on his forehead. His shirt clung to him, damp with exertion, and he smelled like expensive cologne and stage lights.

You raised a brow. “Which position? Because if you mean backup dancing, I worked my ass off to be here.”

His smirk widened. “I meant being this close to me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, my mistake. Guess I should start trembling.”

His smile faltered for a second, just a flicker, before he leaned in slightly. “Most girls do.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Poor things.”

His eyes darkened, scanning your face like he was trying to figure you out. Like he was waiting for the moment you’d break and melt for him like everyone else did.

You didn’t.

“Not interested?” he mused, voice lower now, intrigued.

“Not even a little bit.”

A lie. But he didn’t need to know that.

He huffed a laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Alright. Cool. I like a challenge.”

You turned to leave, but before you could, he caught your wrist—lightly, not enough to force you, but enough to make you pause.

“You should probably know,” he said, voice softer now, a little more serious, “I always get what I want.”

You looked at him, at the smug confidence in his face, and smirked.

“Not this time, superstar.”

And then you pulled away.

He let you go, watching as you walked off, and for the first time in his life—

Thanos realized he was the one being left wanting.

—

He had you switched the next day.

You saw it on the rehearsal schedule. Your name, suddenly paired with his for the partner sections of the choreography.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. Unbelievable.

When you walked onto the stage, Thanos was already waiting.

“You’re a child,” you told him flatly.

He grinned. “I’m resourceful.”

“You had me switched out just so you could put your hands on me?”

He shrugged. “Now you’re getting it.”

You crossed your arms. “You know, normal people just ask someone out when they’re interested.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Yeah, but normal people also get rejected.”

You scoffed. “Which is exactly what’s happening right now.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Yeah? Then why are you still standing here?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

Damn him.

Damn his stupid, arrogant, cocky ass.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes, the split second of uncertainty, and he fucking grinned.

“Relax,” he murmured, dragging a slow gaze down your body. “Let’s just dance.”

You exhaled through your nose, glaring. “Fine. But if you get handsy, I’m kneeing you in the balls.”

He laughed. “Noted.”

The music kicked in, bass heavy, vibrating through the soles of your shoes. You forced yourself to focus, rolling your shoulders, letting the beat settle into your body.

You had done this a million times before—picked up new choreography, adjusted to new formations, worked around whatever ridiculous creative decisions the higher-ups made. But this?

This was different.

Because now you had to dance around Thanos like he was some untouchable god, like he was the center of gravity and you were just one of his planets orbiting him.

And he knew it.

The smug bastard was eating it up.

“Alright,” the choreographer called. “Let’s take it from the top—Y/N, remember, you’re leading this section now. The energy needs to be different, more intense. It’s about power and temptation.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek.

Power and temptation.

Great.

You got into position, your back to Thanos as the music restarted. Your movements were sharp, precise, every beat landing exactly where it needed to. You could feel him behind you, his presence heavy, but you ignored it—until the routine called for you to step into him.

You turned, moving into position, only for him to place his hands on your waist a second too early.

Too early, and definitely not necessary.

Your breath hitched. You felt his fingers, warm through the thin material of your top, his touch firm—possessive.

“Timing,” you snapped, twisting out of his grip.

His lips curled. “Felt right to me.”

You exhaled sharply. “Try again. And keep your hands where they’re supposed to be.”

He didn’t.

The next section had you circling him, tracing the shape of his body with your own, never touching but close enough to tease. It was supposed to be a push and pull, a careful balance of restraint and tension.

Except Thanos had no restraint.

Every time you moved past him, he found some excuse to touch you—a palm sliding over the small of your back, fingertips grazing your hip, knuckles brushing against your stomach. None of it was in the choreography.

And it was pissing you off.

Not because you didn’t like it.

Because you did.

And that made it worse.

You gritted your teeth, pressing forward with the routine, trying to pretend you weren’t hyperaware of his every move, his every breath.

Then came the final part—the part where you were supposed to sink against him, his arm wrapping around you, bodies molding together as the music reached its climax.

He pulled you in.

Too close.

Closer than necessary.

You felt his breath against your ear, his chest solid against your back, his grip firm like he was daring you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Not immediately, anyway.

“Problem?” he murmured, voice low.

You swallowed, heat licking up your spine. “Yeah. You don’t know how to follow a damn routine.”

He chuckled, his breath warm. “Or maybe I just don’t like rules.”

You twisted in his arms, pushing against his chest, forcing space between you. “Try following them for once, superstar. Or find yourself another dance partner.”

His gaze flickered with something dark. Something hungry.

Then, slowly, he smirked.

“No,” he said. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Your stomach flipped.

You scowled, shoving him harder this time, ignoring the way your pulse hammered in your throat.

“Do your job,” you warned, stepping back. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Thanos just grinned.

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.” He tapped his chest, smirking. “Star of the show.” Then, with a slow, deliberate glance, he pointed at you. “Backup dancer.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, rolling your eyes as you stepped back into position. Fine. If he wanted your attention so damn badly, he was going to regret it.

You had a new mission now: Make this the worst dance of his life.

The music started up again, and you turned your smirk into something sultry, something playful. If he wanted you dancing around him like he was a god, you’d do it—but you’d do it on your terms.

Every movement became sharper, more exaggerated. You dragged your fingertips across his chest when you were only supposed to graze past him. Your hips swayed a little too deliberately, your gaze lingering just a second too long. You danced around him like a tease, like a challenge, like you knew exactly what he wanted and were dangling it just out of reach.

And Thanos noticed.

His smirk faltered. His jaw tightened.

He was good at playing it cool, but you could see the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers flexed every time your body got too close.

So you pushed it further.

At a part where you were supposed to circle around him, you let your breath fan over his neck, close enough that he could feel the heat of it. When he placed his hand on your waist—because of course he did, even though it wasn’t in the damn routine—you leaned into it just enough to make it seem deliberate before slipping away.

His grip tightened before he let go.

Good.

By the time the song ended, you were barely holding back a smirk. You could feel the tension radiating off him, could see the way he adjusted his stance like his pants were suddenly too tight.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” the choreographer clapped, beaming. “That was the energy we needed! Y/N, you nailed it—flirtatious, powerful, you owned that stage.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, feigning innocence. “Oh? Just following directions.”

Thanos shot you a look, half-amused, half-something darker. He licked his lips, stepping closer, voice low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna play it like that, huh?”

You tilted your head, blinking up at him with faux sweetness. “Play what?”

His fingers brushed against your hip—not part of the routine, again. His voice dropped even lower, a husky whisper against your ear.

“Careful, sweetheart. Keep this up, and I won’t just be touching you for show.”

Your stomach flipped, but you didn’t let him see it. You stepped back, letting your smirk break free as you walked away.

—

The bass thrummed beneath your feet as you stepped onto the stage, the roar of the crowd nearly deafening. Bright lights, pulsing music, energy crackling in the air—showtime.

You had spent the entire day learning new choreography, perfecting every movement, every step, every fucking touch. And now? Now it was time to perform.

And him?

Thanos was already watching you like a predator.

You felt his gaze before you even looked at him. The heat of it. The weight. And when you finally did look, you swore you could see the exact moment he realized he was fucked.

Because his jaw clenched. His eyes darkened. His tongue flicked out over his lips, slow and deliberate.

Yeah. He was done for.

You weren’t even doing anything yet—just walking into position in your tiny black shorts and your cropped tank that rode up every time you so much as took a breath.

His gaze dragged over your bare legs, over the slope of your waist, over the sliver of skin just above your waistband. Lingering.

And then he laughed—low, under his breath—but you caught it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, just for himself.

Your lips twitched. Got him.

The music kicked in, and suddenly, you were moving. The energy of the crowd fueled you, the beat guiding you. Every motion was sharper, smoother, more deliberate.

And Thanos?

He was distracted.

Distracted by the way your body twisted and rolled, by the way your hands skimmed over your own thighs, by the way you met his gaze with something daring in your eyes.

He was supposed to be the star of the show.

But right now? Right now, it was you.

By the time the first chorus hit, you had made your way over to him, dancing around him like you were made to, your hands ghosting over his shoulders, his chest—only to pull away at the last second, teasing, tempting.

And he hated it.

Hated it because he wanted more.

You could tell by the way he reacted. How he leaned in, how his hands twitched to touch you, how his breathing hitched when you got a little too close.

So, naturally, you pushed it.

When his hand landed on your waist you let him feel you for just a second before spinning away.

The smirk on his face faltered for a half-second. And then he recovered, shaking his head, chuckling under his breath like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Like you were the one who had the upper hand.

And when the song ended, when the stage went dark for the next set change, he wasted zero time grabbing your wrist and pulling you against him.

Your chest heaved, breath still uneven from the performance. “Am I throwing you off?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—just enough to make you feel it.

He leaned in, voice low, rough. “Not even close.”

His gaze dropped, flickering to your lips, down your throat, lingering at the band of your shorts

Your pulse jumped.

But you refused to let it show. Instead, you tilted your head, lashes fluttering as you murmured, “Didn’t think so.”

His jaw flexed. A slow inhale through his nose. A flick of his tongue over his teeth.

And then—the stage lights flashed back on, bathing everything in a blinding glow.

Your smirk deepened as you slipped just out of reach.

—

The moment the show ended, you vanished. You didn’t stick around to let him come find you. You were done with the game for now—just another part of the routine. You didn’t owe him anything, especially after how he’d been acting on stage.

You’d slipped back to your dressing room, changed quickly, and made your way to your hotel room, not once looking back. He wouldn’t find you so easily.

But that wasn’t the Thanos you knew.

An hour later, there was a knock on your hotel door. Soft at first, then louder, more insistent. Each thud felt like it was pounding through your skull. You held your breath, hoping he’d go away, but you knew he wouldn’t.

You hesitated, trying to keep calm as you made your way to the door. Slowly, you turned the handle, peeking through the crack just enough to see his tall figure standing there, staring you down with that dark, intense gaze that you knew was enough to melt any woman—except for you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice cold and flat.

He didn’t waste a second. The door was shoved open as he forced his way past you, his body towering over yours, blocking any chance of escape.

“You think you can just disappear like that?” he growled, his voice raw with frustration. “You think I won’t come after you?”

You crossed your arms, trying to remain unfazed. “I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to follow me.”

His eyes flashed, and for a brief moment, you saw the dangerous fire in them—something you’d only caught glimpses of before.

“You really think that?” he said, voice low and steady now, each word coming with a weight that was unmistakable. “You think I’m just gonna let you walk away, let you treat me like some damn game?”

“You’re the one making it a game,” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m just playing along. Didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.”

He took a step closer, and your back hit the wall, a tiny gasp escaping your lips. You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“You think this is just a game to me?” His hand shot out, gripping your wrist, his fingers tightening until it almost hurt. “What the fuck do you think you’ve been doing to me all this time?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours. “I’m not your fucking toy, Thanos,” you said, each word laced with challenge.

His lips curled into a half-smirk, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You might not be, but you’re sure as hell mine right now.”

“You’re a womanizer,” you hissed, pushing against his chest in a futile attempt to make him back off. “What makes you think I’d let you have me? Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean I’ll let you fuck me, you freak.”

He smirked, his hands brushing along your side with that infuriating confidence that made you want to rip his arrogance right off his face.

“Really?” he murmured, his lips curling into that taunting grin you were so damn familiar with. “Tell me to leave then.”

You stared up at him, your chest heaving, pulse quickening with the tension between you. He was close—too close—and you were burning under the weight of his stare, but you didn’t say a word. You couldn’t. You couldn’t fight it any longer.

Instead, your hands fisted his shirt, tugging him down to you. Your lips collided with his in a desperate, hungry kiss, more forceful than anything you’d ever let yourself give before.

You hated him for making you want him. You hated how his arrogance seemed to draw you in even more. But as much as you fought it, you couldn’t deny the heat flooding your body, the way he made you feel alive—even if it meant giving in to all the things you knew you shouldn’t want.

His response was immediate, his hands gripping you tightly, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue traced your lips before sliding in, taking control in that way he always did, and you couldn’t stop yourself from responding, from giving in.

When he pulled away, his breath ragged, his face was inches from yours, his lips swollen and glistening from the kiss. “Knew you wanted it,” he said, voice low and rough.

Your chest tightened. You should’ve said something. Should’ve pushed him away, but the truth was, you didn’t want to. Not now. Not with the way your body was burning from the inside out.

He moved his hands down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion. You were left standing in front of him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and for a moment, you hated how exposed you felt.

But then his hands were on your skin again, hot and possessive, trailing over your bare body, making you shiver as he kissed along your neck, his lips grazing your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you. And suddenly, all those reservations you’d had, all those walls you’d put up, seemed to disappear into the haze of lust and want.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire, and you didn’t have to say a word. He could see it in your eyes—the same hunger, the same need.

Before you knew it, he had you flat against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed into you, his lips back on yours with a fierce urgency. And you didn’t fight it. Not this time.

He broke away for a moment, his voice rough, but controlled. “Tell me you want this. Say it.”

Your hands ran up his chest, your nails scraping over his skin as you tugged him back down. “I want you,” you murmured, your voice laced with that desperate edge he’d been waiting for. “Kiss me.”

Thanos didn’t hesitate. The second the words left your mouth, his lips crashed into yours again, all teeth and heat and raw desperation. His hands roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, fingers digging into your thighs as he pressed his body flush against yours.

You felt everything—the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the unmistakable hardness between his legs as he ground against you, making you gasp into his mouth.

His hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides, gripping your thighs as he lifted you higher against the wall. You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his purple, sweat-dampened hair, tugging just enough to hear him groan.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath ragged, his fingers digging into your skin. "You drive me fucking insane, you know that?"

You smirked, pressing your forehead against his. "Yeah? And whose fault is that?"

His laugh was low, dark, full of something dangerous. His grip on you tightened, and in one swift motion, he carried you across the room, dropping you onto the hotel bed with a smirk of his own.

"Mine," he admitted, voice rough as he hovered over you, his gaze raking over your body like he was memorizing every inch. "Because I should've had you the moment you rolled your eyes at me."

Your heart pounded, heat pooling between your thighs as he pressed a knee between them, teasing, testing. "And now?" you challenged, breathless.

He tilted his head, watching you with that arrogant, knowing smirk. "Now?" His fingers traced the waistband of your shorts, slipping beneath the fabric just enough to make you squirm. "Now I don't plan on stopping."

You arched your back as his lips trailed down your throat, his hands exploring, claiming, making it clear that this wasn't just some meaningless hookup to him.

This was a warning.

A promise.

A fucking declaration.

And god help you, you wanted all of it.

“You still think I’m a womanizer?” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

You arched into him, biting back a whimper as his teeth scraped over your pulse point. “You’re still a cocky bastard.”

He chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “Maybe,” he admitted, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “But you like it.”

You did. And that pissed you off.

You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. “Shut up and fuck me.”

His eyes darkened.

“Gladly.”

Thanos kissed you like he was trying to consume you, like he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of your body. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise.

You gasped as he flipped you over, pressing you into the mattress with his body. “You act so fucking tough,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “But I see right through you.”

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he bit down on the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands slipping beneath your shorts, fingertips burning against your bare skin. He pulled your pants down your legs, his eyes dark as he took you in.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand down your spine before yanking your panties off in one swift motion. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first day I met you. Walking around in those fucking short. The bane of my existence, babe.”

Your breath hitched when he trailed his fingers between your legs, teasing, taking his time just to watch you squirm.

“Thanos—”

He forced your face to the side, silencing you with a kiss, swallowing your moans as he pushed his fingers inside you, moving slow, deliberate, dragging out every reaction he could get.

“Look at you,” he groaned, lips brushing against your jaw. “So fucking wet for me.”

You hated how easy this was for him—how he could unravel you with just a touch, just a look. You wanted to fight him, to push back, to pretend you were still in control.

But then he slid his fingers out, flipping you onto your back, replacing them with his tongue, and all coherent thought disappeared.

You arched off the bed, fingers tangling in his hair as he pinned your hips down, keeping you exactly where he wanted. His name left your lips in a broken moan, your body trembling beneath him as he devoured you like he was starving.

And he didn’t stop. Not even when you came, not even when you tried to push him away, too sensitive, too overwhelmed. He just held you there, dragging you through another wave of pleasure until you were a gasping, shaking mess beneath him.

Only then did he pull away, his lips slick, his eyes dark with hunger.

“You’re not done yet,” he said, voice rough as he unbuckled his belt, letting his jeans drop to the floor.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on top of you again, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing, making you whine in frustration.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he demanded, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

You swallowed hard, pride clashing with desperation. You wanted to make him beg. You wanted to be the one in control.

But then he pushed in just an inch, stretching you open, making your head fall back with a strangled moan.

“Fuck—Thanos, please.”

That was all it took.

He thrust into you in one smooth motion, making you cry out, your nails digging into his back. He was thick, stretching you in a way that left you gasping for air, but he didn’t give you time to adjust. He set a brutal pace from the start, fucking into you like he was trying to break you.

And maybe he was.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, biting down on your shoulder as he slammed into you over and over, pulling out just enough to make you desperate before driving back in. “So fucking tight, taking me so well.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, your walls clenching around him as pleasure coiled in your stomach. You didn’t care about control anymore. You didn’t care about anything except the way he felt inside you, stretching you, ruining you.

“Thanos—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he groaned, his grip tightening on your hips, his thrusts growing rougher. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

And you did. Hard. Your body clenched around him as you cried out his name, pleasure crashing over you in waves. But he wasn’t done. He fucked you through your orgasm, his pace relentless, chasing his own release.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Thanos had you on your knees, pressing your chest against the mattress with a firm hand on your back. His other hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned himself behind you.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he murmured, running his palm over the curve of your ass before delivering a sharp smack that made you gasp. “Made to be fucked.”

You shivered, anticipation making your whole body tense. He spread you open, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing, making you whimper.

“Thanos—I can’t,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. Your body was spent, trembling, overstimulated beyond reason. You had already come three times—three, and yet he still wasn’t satisfied.

“Yes, you can,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dark, coaxing, dripping with lust. His fingers stroked lazy circles over your clit, making you jolt, your body betraying you despite the desperate plea on your lips. “Just one more. For me.”

“I—”

He didn’t let you finish. With one rough thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide, forcing your body to take all of him. A strangled moan ripped from your throat as he bottomed out, his fingers tightening on your hips.

"You can take it," he whispered, kissing the side of your neck as he fucked you right past your limits. "I know you can."

You couldn’t muster up a single word, instead you sobbed in pleasure and pain. You were so overstimulated, but fuck, it felt so good.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, rolling his hips, making you feel every inch of him. “You like this, don’t you? Being bent over, fucked like you belong to me.”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But then he pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace that had you gripping the sheets, struggling to stay upright.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice low, dangerous.

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your walls fluttering around him. “I love it.”

“That’s my girl.”

He fucked you harder, his grip bruising, his thrusts deep and relentless. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with the ragged moans you couldn’t hold back.

One of his hands slid around to your front, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you trembling beneath him.

“You gonna come for me again?” he growled, his other hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you back against his chest as he fucked into you. “Wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

You couldn’t hold back. With a sharp cry, you came undone, your body tightening around him, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Thanos groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. He slammed into you one last time before spilling inside you, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your head spin.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled, your breaths heavy. Then he leaned in, pressing a rough kiss to your shoulder.

"I hope I didn’t ruin you," he murmured.

But he had. Completely.

—

The next morning, you woke up sore in the best way possible, tangled in expensive hotel sheets that smelled like him. The space next to you was empty, but the indent in the mattress was still warm.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. Fuck. What the hell did you just do?

The sound of the bathroom door opening made you jolt upright. Thanos emerged, towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water sliding down his chest. He caught your gaze and smirked.

“Morning, señorita,” he drawled.

You scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair as he walked over to the bed. “You’re grumpy in the morning. Cute.”

You glared at him. “You should leave.”

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Then he recovered, leaning down until his face was inches from yours. “You sure about that?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was, you weren’t sure at all.

Thanos watched you carefully, reading every flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You hated that about him—how easily he could see through you.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away. “Yeah,” you said, but your voice wasn’t as sharp as you wanted it to be. “I’m sure.”

A beat of silence. Then, he exhaled a quiet laugh. “Liar.”

Your jaw clenched. “Thanos—”

“You’re gonna pretend last night didn’t happen?” He tilted his head, voice low and taunting. “Or just pretend you didn’t love every fucking second of it?”

Heat crept up your neck, shame and frustration tangling together in a way that made you feel sick. You didn’t answer, just pulled the sheets tighter around yourself.

Thanos clicked his tongue, his fingers brushing your chin as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “I’ll go,” he murmured, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “For now.”

Your breath caught. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He smirked, leaning in just enough that his lips ghosted over yours. “You’ll see.”

Then, before you could say another word, he was gone.

You sat there, staring at the door long after it clicked shut, your pulse hammering in your throat.

Fuck.

You had a terrible, sinking feeling that this wasn’t over. Not even close.

[hoetachi]

HAPPINESS OVER EVERYTHING (H.O.E) — J. TODD

suggestive themes

I hope she don't think, that I think that she's some kind of hoe

A SOFT KNOCK graced the dark oak and he already knew whom it would be. without words being exchanged, he heard the chambers turned followed by a slight creak. there you were… in your newest ‘outfit’. off the record, this was your skimpiest outfit by far (which he loved a little too much by the slight tent in his slacks) and just knew you were getting tipped well for it.

jason relaxed a bit in the chair, umbrella twisting lazily between his fingers whilst keeping his shielded eyes on your figure. a mischievous smirk graced your glossed lips as you pressed your back to his door, which he picked up on the chambers turning again. you locked it.

time for your scheduled ‘cat & mouse’ game.

you pressed yourself free off the oak and switched your hips towards his desk. “5th time this week, doll” he pointed out as you inched closer. you now was right before him leaning over, pushing your breast together slightly whilst your perfume invaded his senses. sweet as ever, a scent he’ll never get a enough of.

“they say you pickin’ favorites mista hood” you finally spoke, your hair falling over your shoulders while you stared at him doed eyes. he always liked how you said ‘mista hood’ with your slightly hidden brooklyn accent. you don’t know it, but you’re the only one who’s allowed to refer to him as that. for everyone else it’s either ‘boss’ or ‘sir’

he exhaled, “i don’t do the favoritism bullshit.”

“then what do you do?” you asked, circling his desk. ghosting your hand over the nape of his neck, if he didn’t achieved the self control he currently had, he would’ve shuddered from the ghost of your touch without hesitation. he sees why bruce stayed up on those rooftops now, the mere thought about going against your own code for desire was a thrilling experience

“i treat people how they deserve to be treated” he stated curtly. he was never the one to sugarcoat the truth, that’s what most of the staff secretly disliked about him.

if he wanted to say ‘fuck off and rot in ditch’ he had nothing holding back, absolutely no remorse. he knew everything about everyone who worked under him and knew majority of them weren’t kind people in their day to day, so why would he treat them how he would like to be treated if they were mere scum?

“so if they wanna act like gossiping schoolgirls, i wouldn’t take their comments seriously”

“is this why you’re lingering in my office instead of… displaying your talents?”

you finally made it back before and leaned again on his desk. you pretended to think about for second. how cute you are “maybe… maybe not” another cheshire smirk graced your lips

“so.. how do i deserve to be treated, mista hood?”

“i’m letting you avoid working right now for one. two between you and i, i pay you more than your coworkers out there, even though you’re here less” he chuckled at your face at the little jab towards your absence around the lounge

“you know why though” you rolled your eyes at the jab. he loved to push your buttons, your reactions were just the cutest thing to him plus he knew you couldn’t really stay mad at him.

“how’d your exam go?”

“i feel that i definitely scored the lowest on it. im way too over my head with this veterinarian thing”

he used the hook of the umbrella he’s been twirling with to pull the strap of your bikini top and snapped it back, causing a yelp from you. you dropped your head and pouted as you rubbed the suddenly aching spot between your breast, however the same hook tilted your head up.

you were meant with crimson lens and from the looks of it, he wasn’t too happy with your comment. “don’t say that. do i look like i hire idiots?” he questioned coldly, you parted your lips to answer but realized it was a rhetorical question and thought best to not say anything. “you passed that entrance exam with flying colors, which is amazing considering there’s an 9% acceptance rate so don’t dare discredit that mind of yours”

“are you intelligent!?” he raised his voice, causing you to straighten your back with a flinch before nodding your head rapidly, “say it y/n!” he raised his voice again, “i’m intelligent” you said rapidly, making you stand up straight with your gaze falling to your feet. he mentally scolded himself for his outburst. he knew better to always watch his tone with you knowing you already get enough shit while on the clock from the others. “im sorry for yelling,” he apologized

“it’s okay, mista hood” you reassured, giving him a sheepish smile. “i just don’t ever want to catch you beating up yourself. you’re a good woman” he complimented with a much softer tone

“hmph, some woman i am” you huffed, twirling the end of your hair between your fingers unamused

his brows knitted at your comment, “what did i just say, y/n?” he scolded

“i know i know im sorry, but cmon mista hood. look where i work at?”

“it’s a fixer upper… i see potential still” the last part more for himself than the actual lounge. he’ll give credit to cobblepot, he took good care for the place but it was better under jason’s ownership.

“no man wants a woman who flirts their way into their pockets” you whispered whilst looking out the tinted window towards the vip section. the urge to cup that pretty face of yours and have those hypnotized eyes on him and him only came in droves. the fight with temptation around you could make him weak than any fight with the toughest rogues in gotham.

“speed dating ain’t workin’ out for you?”

“after the compliments and pleasantries, they don’t quite stick around once the question of what i do shows face” you joked half heartedly. no matter how much of a front you put on, he knew you wanted someone to take care of you and not just try to take you home for night

“doesn’t sound like men to me”

“then what does it sound like?”

“boys trying to play big man. someone’s way of paying the bills shouldn’t define them, so don’t let them define you. this is temporary, y/n just like those boys”

“you definitely know how to flatter a lady mista hood” you smiled softly, walking around his desk and he scooted back some to make some space for you to hop up on his desk to sit

he shrugged, feeling a bit more relaxed with you closer to him. “i’m just telling the truth”

“or maybe the truth is, you’re a really good ladies man..” there was a sudden glint in your eyes and he knew it was finally time to test how strong-willed he was against his own desire

“y/n…” he warned once you brushed your leg against his

“am i toeing the line?” your voice dripping in playfulness and your eyes shadowed with seduction, he was more than thankful for the tints on goggles how he had to close them to control his urges. how did the old bat do it with the cat for so long is all he could think about. you two barely even touched and he already so bothered

disregarding his caution, you continued your pursuit of him. “i would expect you of all people to love a bit of risk every once in a while”

“don’t start something you can’t finish” that was his second warning for you

“you see, mista hood, that’s the problem”

“you won’t let me finish. got me thinkin’ you may be into edging” you moaned, pulling in your bottom lip. he almost put together how sweet the actual melody of your moans would sound and that alone practically put him closer to the edge

“i don’t mix business with pleasure”

“it didn’t seem like a problem with liz and all the other girls” he watched again as you tried to your best not to roll your eyes at the name. liz wasn’t nothing to him nor others, if he had a rough night, he knew they’ll do anything to get even a smudge of the attention that he gives you

“they throw themselves”

a pout formed on your face and god, he could’ve been putty right in your hands. “am i not throwing myself hard enough?” you batted your lashes towards him.

“you’re better than that, doll”

you giggled as you placed a hand over your chest dramatically being flattered, “you think too highly of me, mista hood”

“i do, but who can blame me of thinking of you”

“and that’s your other problem too” he watched as you smirked. pushing yourself off of the desk, you moved the umbrella aside and decided to find a more comfortable spot to sit. you slowly sat yourself on his lap, making sure he had the perfect view of your arched back before looking over your shoulder with an innocent expression. “is this spot taken by chance?” throwing your legs over his knee, really settling against his tailored suit. you were going to be his second death for sure

he exhausted exaggeratedly, you’re the only woman he has set of rules for himself.

he can’t touch you. you can comb your fingers through his hair, acrylics scratching his scalp comfortingly and he has to fight the urge to nozzle into your touch.

he can’t taste you. he’s tempted every time you leave a glossy kiss on the corner of his mouth because knowing your love for toeing the line, he’s just curious how’d you react if one day he just captured those plump lips and explored that sweet mouth of yours and pull a moan from the depths of your core

you’re completely right

you’re his biggest problem

part 2?

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Danny, Security Chief

Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These kids are making me feel so old, Danny though, running a hand through his hair before setting his ball cap in place and walking out the door of his room. The talk he’d had with Liz Collins the cycle before was still reeling through his brain on a loop. Once again, he questioned the merits of keeping GAIL Command in the dark, but once again followed the logic of Admiral Townes and Captain Skitch. At this point, they didn’t really have conclusive proof of sabotage, and if they started raising any alarms, any evidence would point back to the Terrans. The codes used to send encrypted messages were the science team lead’s, a human’s, and the more vocal opponents to the Earthling’s membership would use that against them.

For now, however, Danny decided to turn his attention to the other possible threat to human/GAIL coexistence in the galaxy. The Noah was scheduled to have a rendezvous with a Sed trainee ship later in the cycle. Apparently the GAIL council had decided that a group training session would be just the thing to drive home the idea of interspecies cooperation. However, the captain of the Sed vessel they were set to sortie with was a man named General Drinner, a high ranked figure in the Sed power structure. He’d been fairly curt in transmission between ships, and claimed he would be personally overseeing the exercise. When Danny asked who he was, Skitch hadn’t been able to provide much information. The Sed government had totally wrapped the man in red tape so any information about his military record or personal life was behind a security clearance wall that nobody onboard the Noah had access to.

Before he entered the lift, Danny Ducane paused and walked back to his quarters and strapped on his ‘work belt’, complete with pistol, stun batton, and combat knife. He chambered a round in the pistol before holstering it again. Danny had a feeling in his gut telling him it was gonna be that kind of day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” Coola grumbled, arms crossed in her seat around the security command console.

“Because unfortunately bureaucracy is universal,” Danny said as he cycled through screens on the terminal, “and we have our orders. Now, the plan here is to head down to this planet here,” Danny pointed to it on the screen, “and meet up with Drinner and his crew for the joint training. Supposedly we’re going to be running standard drills, some close quarters work, and there will be a combat demonstration at the end. Any questions?”

“Yes,” Ritz chimed in, tail flicking around the floor in annoyance, “why is a Sed general taking part in this? This is a simple training procedure, correct?”

“I don’t know,” Homet said as he strapped upper armor to his thermal suit, “but I’ve seen Drinner before. He spear headed a GAIL mission to apprehend some pirates a couple rotations ago. None of the pirates made it to a cell, and two of his team died, neither of which were Sed.”

“You’re sure of that?” Hayte asked, sitting forward, concern starting to show on his face.

“Hundred percent,” the Doun said. “I was on the ship set to take the raiders to stand trial. All we did was transport the remains. After that, Drinner was removed from GAIL mixed forces and the Sed brought him back into the fold on their home world. I heard he got a promotion for the operation, it’s how he made general.”

“That just great,” Danny mumbled, “one big party like this.”

“Sir, what are we going to do?” Coola asked. Danny looked around at them, his team. He could feel the unease and anxiety coming off them, a sense of uncertainty surrounding them.

“We do what we always do,” Danny answered, “our jobs. We don’t start anything with them under any circumstances. Most likely the Sed government is just inspecting us on the down low, so as long as we show them we’re competent there shouldn’t be any problems.”

“Just saying it Chief,” Ritz hissed behind sharp teeth, “they’re going to see that the only Sed crewman in any position of power here got replaced. They aren’t going to like that.”

“No, probably not,” Danny signed, “thanks for that Ritz, I wasn’t already sweating about that at all.”

“You are very clearly perspiring sir,” Coola added.

“Sarcasm, guys. Remember our talk?”

“Right, sorry.”

“Anyway,” Homet popped the last plate into place with a solid metallic click, “I think what the chief is saying is just be prepared for them to try and antagonize you, but don’t react to it. Right?” He looked to Danny for confirmation.

“Right,” Danny took a deep breath. “Go get suited up, we’ll be dropping out of WARP in a few hours. Dismissed.”

The Quintin siblings Ritz and Coola left, alongside Hayte who gave one last look back into the security office before heading out. Then it was just Danny and Homet left in the room, with the holographic face of General Drinner oscillating above the console.

“So what’s the word boss?” Homet finally broke the silence. “You got your work belt on and your… hat, that’s the word, your hat is on backwards. Humans mean business like that, right?”

Danny chuckled.

“I think that’s mostly a me kind of thing man,” he said as he dragged a hand across his face and screwed his eyes shut. “I got a bad feeling about this. After all this shit with Grite, and now this Drinner guy is showing up… I don’t know if I’m being intolerant or what, but every bit of training I’ve ever had is saying somebody is making a play here, I just can’t see all the players.”

“Trust me, you’re not being anything but prepared,” Homet tapped a couple claws against his thermal suit and the added plating. “The Sed have a reputation in the GAIL for the collateral damage of other species. Couple unexplained accidents and botched missions, but never enough evidence to directly link them to any crimes or negligence. So as far as I’m concerned, do what you gotta do.”

Homet clapped his big paw on Danny’s shoulder.

“Who knows,” he continued, “maybe you humans will be the ones to finally teach them some manners.”

Danny’s terminal trilled, then his comm-link did the same.

Must be synced, he thought.

With a push of a button, Danny brought the message up on the holoviewer. It was a message from engineering.

We have something for you

-PADRINO UNIT H663K67Q6

“What do the Padrino want with you chief?” Homet asked.

Danny stared at the message a beat longer.

“Side project. Make sure everyone is ready for the drop, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Unit H66-, uh, 3-,”

“You may refer to me as Sixer, Chief Ducane,” the unit said in its machine synthesized voice. “It is what the Human Thomas calls me for efficiency.”

“Sixer,” Danny started again, “what did you find?”

“Per your request, myself and the other Padrino have been collating the data from the ship’s AI CORE in an effort to find any clues to your… problem, as you call it. Using the assumed times that you claim Human Elizabeth’s access codes could have been used, we have begun searching through all long range messages during those time frames.”

“And?”

“We have found numerous encrypted messages going out, but no data could be acquired. It seems someone has uploaded a program to scrub the system after each message is sent, but it appears they did not implement this function until after this broadcast:

The mis[]io[] is s[]ill g[]in[] ah[]ad as pla[]ne[]. Th[]re w[]s a min[]r set ba[]k, but no one []board t[]e NO[]H sus[]ect[] a[]yth[]ng. We wil[] be []ictorious as we h[]ve alw[]ys be[]n. Pro[]ee[] with t[]e s[]cond pha[]e as sc[]edule[]

“Why is it all piecemeal like that?” Danny asked.

“I found traces of a scrubber program in the core systems, a less advanced version of what is erasing the more recent messages. It seems this message was sent early into the mission, appropriately forty hours after launch.”

“Seriously? This has been going on for that long?” Danny was dumbfounded. Forty hours. The numbers made his head spin. It was almost inconceivable. They’d been over confident, and now it turned out they’d been tricked from the jump.

“Is it possible to get surveillance data from the long range communications consoles? See who all was in there during that time frame? Maybe start narrowing down our suspects?” Danny asked. He clenched and unclenched his right fist a few times. Maybe now he’d finally start making some headway into solving this instead of staring at puzzle pieces for hours on end.

“It is possible, with your approval and from your terminal in the security lounge. With your permission, I could start reviewing footage on your word,” Sixer stated. Danny eyeballed the android before nodding.

“When I get back from this training, we’ll do it together. Leaving you alone in there is a major security risk you understand. It’d cost me my job.”

“Of course,” Sixer said. “Permission to inform Human Thomas of these events? I believe he’d be of assistance in this endeavor.”

No no no, not the kid, please, the corner of Danny’s mouth twitched a little. I can’t deal with the fucking kids anymore.

“Why?” He asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“I have been informed that it is protocol for friends to inform each other of important information regarding their interests. As Human Thomas is greatly invested in the wellbeing of the ship, it seemed prudent to inform him,” Sixer explained. “Though I do agree that yes, it does involve a security concern, which is why I’m requesting permission from you first.”

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sure. Fuck it. Why not?” He said exasperated. “Turn this whole operation into a game at day care, I’ll go Vend some juice boxes or something.”

“I’m sure Human Thomas will appreciate the refreshment, sir.”

“Oh my god,” Danny cried, “okay, keep doing whatever this is, get Thomas if you want, keep me informed about anything you find, got it? I gotta go deal with the other problem that’ll give me stroke today.”

“Orders confirmed, sir,” Sixer gave a kind of salute to which Danny assumed was also somehow not sarcasm and walked away, taking deep, calming breathes, and wishing the Vending Machines could make something stronger than a juice box.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“All ready for the big drop Chief,” Homet called when Danny made the hangar bay. “You take care of that other thing?”

“We’re gonna have to wait and see about that I think,” Danny replied, making a face that said it better or I’m gonna lose it. “How’s tricks in here?”

“Everything protocol says is on the shuttle,” Homet gestured, “and a few extras, just in case. Just waiting for you now.”

“And the team?”

“Nervous,” Homet admitted, “but you gave them the brass they need chief. I think they got this.”

“Careful Homet, you’re starting to sound like a real Terran there,” Danny joked. Homet laughed, a deep, hearty sound, making his thermal suit’s armor clank and clatter against itself.

“Skitch and Commander Koatil are already down there, they sent the go ahead just a minute ago,” the Doun man continued. “We better get moving Chief.”

“All aboard then,” Danny clapped his hands together and stepped through the hatch.

“Once more into the breach.”

[goneahead]

here is a (long) bit from one of the three WIPs currently in the hopper. yup, its Hallmark Christmas House Tour AU. um, sorry?

Steve had dragged himself out of bed three times. Twice to let the dogs out, once to feed them. Each time, he’d promised himself he would throw some clothes on, and go work out. Only to find himself crawling back into bed instead.

A cold nose snuffling his ear woke him for the fourth time. He cracked open one eye. “I'm up, OK? I’m up.”

Houston gave a happy woof, while Austin danced around in excited circles.

Steve sat up with a groan, rubbing his shoulder. Fuck. He hated jetlag. Of course 8IA didn’t care—they had scheduled photoshoots in three different countries in the past month. At least he had a few weeks off—and then he had to do some stupid ESPN sport thing in Honolulu.

He got up, dragged on a pair of sweatpants, stumbled to the patio door. Let the boys out, glanced at his watch. Almost eleven o’clock. He padded into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and then opened the fridge, because he was starving.

He’d bought groceries last night, but assembling any of it into something edible seemed like a lot of effort. He was still staring at the contents of his fridge, when the sound of scratching at the patio door brought him back to reality.

He went over, let the dogs in—and swore when the doorbell rang. Why was anyone disturbing him on a Saturday—oh shit. The damn interior designer.

And he was in his oldest sweatpants. And nothing else.

Damnit.

For one fleeting second, Steve considered putting on real clothes. Instead he ordered the dogs to stop barking, and padded to the door. He opened it, expecting—well, an interior designer. Instead, there was a short guy, in a dress shirt and slacks, standing on his porch.

Muscular, broad shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes. Exactly the kind of guy Steve would date—if he was allowed to date.

“Hi. I’m Danny Williams.” Those blue eyes flicked down to the holes in Steve’s sweatpants, back up. “My sister Stella called you yesterday?”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve was really regretting not getting dressed now. He waved the dogs back. “Come in. And don’t mind the dogs. They’re friendly.”

Danny gave him an overly polite smile, stepped inside.

“Would you, uh, like coffee?” He turned around—and realized he’d just dropped his luggage in the hall last night.

“Sure.” Danny followed him, stepping around the luggage. His tone was now hovering somewhere between ‘I’m being professional’ and ‘I’m dealing with a crazy person’. “I’d love a cup.”

So much for making a good first impression.

Steve mentally kicked himself for not remembering the appointment as he headed to the kitchen. At least his kitchen was clean—because he’d ordered a pizza last night and then crashed.

He poured two cups. “You take milk or sugar?”

“Black’s fine.” Danny’s eyes now flicked to the dining room. “So, how long have you owned this place?”

“Nine years.” He started to take a sip of coffee, stopped when Danny gave him an odd look. “Why?”

“I was just—expecting more furniture.”

Steve was about to point out that he had furniture, except—he’d finally gotten rid of his two ridiculously uncomfortable couches several months ago. And he’d been so busy traveling, that he’d never replaced them.

He’d also never gotten around to buying a dining room table, because he normally ate at the kitchen island, or used the table on the side deck.

“I haven’t had a lot of down time.” The excuse sounded lame, even to him.

“Uh huh.” Danny set his mug down. “Have you eaten?”

Steve opened his mouth, but Danny continued talking. “That’s what I thought. You know, the best way to deal with a hangover is to eat something.”

And then he opened Steve’s fridge, and started pulling out various things.

Steve opened his mouth to protest he wasn’t hungover—then closed it because Danny had grabbed a knife from the knife block and a cutting board from the dish drainer, and was now chopping up a tomato.

Very competently chopping up a tomato.

Maybe it was because he was so fucking tired, but Steve was having trouble figuring out what the hell he was supposed to do. The hottest guy he’d ran into in years was doing cooking stuff. In his kitchen.

“I need a bowl.” Danny moved on to chopping up deli meat. “And a pan and a spatula.”

He found himself pulling down a bowl, grabbing a frying pan and a spatula. And setting out a couple of plates and forks.

“Thanks.” Danny pointed the knife toward one of the stools. “I got this. Sit down and drink some coffee. Or better yet, grab some water. Trust me, it’ll help.”

Steve gave up. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and sat down. “Austin, Houston, stay out of his way.”

“It’s OK, I’m used to it.” He finished chopping up everything, began breaking eggs into the bowl. “My sister has a golden retriever who’s always under foot. Whisk?”

“Second drawer to your right.” He tried to ignore how Danny’s biceps flexed as he cracked eggs. “So, uh, how did you become an interior designer?”

“Well, it turns out there are two ways to become an interior designer.” He found the whisk, started mixing the eggs. “One, you go to design school, then you apprentice with someone for a while, before striking out on your own.”

He finished, turned, and put the pan on the stove—and damn, Steve was having a hard time not staring at how Danny’s pants hugged his ass. “Or two, you graduate from the police academy, promise to serve, honor, and protect—only to wake up one day to find yourself picking chintz out of a line up.”

Steve hadn't seen that one coming. “You were a cop?”

“I was. But it’s not the best career choice if you’re a single dad, so—” He shrugged, poured the eggs in the pan. Waved the spatula at the fridge. “I’m assuming that you like pretty much anything but mushrooms?”

Damnit. Of course Danny would be straight. And have a kid.

“I like mushrooms, I just didn’t buy any.” Steve reminded himself that it didn’t matter. As long as he was under contract, he was straight.

“One omelet, with everything but not-bought-mushrooms, coming up.” Danny poked at the eggs with a spatula, then dumped all the stuff on the cutting board directly into the pan. A minute later, he expertly folded the omelet, slid it onto one of the plates.

Houston and Austin watched the entire procedure with great interest.

“Sorry, this is strictly human food.” Danny divided the omelet, placing the bigger half onto the second plate. He set it in front of Steve. “Eat.”

Steve took a bite—and had to suppress a moan. The omelet was fluffy, and full of cheese and ham and tomato. “This is really good.”

“Thanks.” Danny gave him a smile—a real smile. It made his eyes look even more blue.

“So, uh,” Steve shoved in another bite, “do you cook for all your clients?”

“Nope. Just the ones that are hungover,” Danny’s smile widened as he sat down, “and the ones who don’t have any furniture.”

“I’ve been meaning to replace the couches; I’ve just been busy.”

Danny looked at him for a long moment. “Steve, why did you put your home on a Christmas tour? You haven’t finished moving in.”

You haven’t finished moving in.

The words crashed into him like a rogue wave. He’d owned the place for nine years and yet, it just felt like another hotel room. And honestly, his old condo in Honolulu had felt the same way.

Steve hesitated, then went for the truth. “Because Kono kept bugging me. She works at the—”

“—pet store. Yes, I know Kono. Apparently, a condition of my employment is that I have to buy both Christmas and birthday gifts for my sister’s dog.” He waved his fork in the air. “The way I see it, you have two options. You can withdraw from the tour, and then you can spend another nine years trying to find time to buy a couch. Or—you can run up the white flag and let us do it for you.”

Steve finished the omelet, pushed the plate away. Until thirty minutes ago, being in the same room with an interior designer was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do. But maybe hiring somebody—if that somebody was Danny—wouldn’t be so bad. “The Christmas tour’s in three weeks.”

“Trust me, I know. Lucky for you, most people don’t schedule an overhaul of their house during the holidays—so we can squeeze you in.” Danny waved his fork some more. “If you’re interested, I can take some photos and measurements; get you a quote by Sunday or Monday.”

The thought pushed in that if he hired Danny, everything would be done by December 17th. Sure, he would still have to endure the three day Christmas tour, but—he wouldn’t have to worry about buying couches. Or finding time to deal with his half-finished office.

“Earth to Steve?”

“Would $78,000 be enough?” Steve had overhead someone bragging about dropping $78,000 on redecorating their place at the last party he was at. At the time it had seemed an outrageous amount—but he was so damn sick of living in hotel rooms. “To do everything?”

“That would most definitely cover it, yeah. I’m still going to give you a quote, so you’ll know what you’re paying for.” Danny pulled out his phone, checked something. “Any chance that you are free either Monday or Tuesday? The sooner we pick out some furniture, the better. That way, it can be delivered as soon as the painting is done.”

“Monday’s good.” Steve said it quickly, before he could second-guess himself.

“Great—because three weeks doesn’t give us a lot of time.” Danny finished the last bite of omelet, took another swallow of coffee. “OK, why don’t we start by having you give me the grand tour?”

Please share an excerpt from a current project

[written-in-flowers]

Her Tamer: Demon!Yunho x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Demon!Yunho x Fem!Reader | side pairings: Yunho x OFC, Yunho x Mingi, demonline x Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, slight fluff | AU: demon au

Word Count: 12k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary: Following the death of his father, Yunho ponders over Hell's obvious unfair class system. When you make numerous attempts to get him in bed, he decides to try correcting your bratty behavior.

Tags: poly relationship, established relationship, bisexual sex, mentions of death/loss, mentions of illness, general angst, class separation, rough sex, brat taming, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, degradation, cuckquean, light bondage, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, breast play, exhibitionism, pet names (slut, bitch, whore, good girl, baby), facial, cum swallowing, panty sex, "just the tip", edging. Yunho simping over his actual woc!gf, Yunho generally being pissed at rich people because we should eat them.

Previously on Pretty Lady

Pretty Lady Masterlist

****

He never hated a sunrise before. The orange-yellow rays gradually pushed the night back up into the sky, breaking through and over the trees in the distance. The front courtyard remained dimly lit, though in a few hours its splendor would be in full light. Yunho used to hike up the mountains back home to bask in its warmth. The hot air would blow in from the molten lake where natural gold endlessly churned. His kin would come out from the main grounds, carrying metal poles and large vats to collect gold nuggets that washed up onto the lake overnight. They’d be turned into coins to be put in circulation. Yunho didn’t work at the mint, but he’d sit and watch them work until it was time to go. 

Like today. He stared away from the window to the uniform hanging on his closet door. Black and white, he wore the uniform every single day since he arrived at The Black Keep. Every morning, before sunrise, he’d bathe and fix up his appearance before pulling on the uniform. He’d go down to the kitchen where he’d snag a quick breakfast, then set about scheduling everyone's duties for the day. By the time anyone else arrived, he’d already have the chore chart finished, and be ready to get to work. Yet, today he could not bring himself to do it. 

“Yunho?” Mingi’s deep voice came from somewhere behind him. “Is everything okay? You weren’t in the kitchen.”

“Sorry. Overslept.”

“Overslept? You? Impossible.”

Yunho hardly slept at all, to be honest. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“Hey,” a hand touched his shoulder, the warmth radiating through his thin nightshirt, “I know it’s been a rough few days for you, but at least it’s over now. Your dad’s at rest. He's not suffering anymore.” 

Yunho didn’t want to talk about it. He stared down at the letter on his desk. The creases in the paper became more pronounced from him constantly folding and unfolding it, but the ink was bolder than ever. 

‘My dear Yunho, 

I’m afraid this is my last letter to you. As you know, the holy pestilence I caught in the mortal realm has finally taken its course. The doctors tried all kinds of treatments and methods, but no amount of magic will undo what that priest had done. Don’t worry about me, my boy. Your Pop has lived a good life here in the old mountains. I may not have been a rich demon, but I lived as well as we could. 

I love you, Yunho. You are my greatest achievement, my greatest treasure, and my greatest love. Everything I have done was to try giving you a better life. I wanted you to have the things I never did, and I like to think in small ways I accomplished that. You left our home and went on to be more than I ever imagined for you. You got out, son, and that alone makes me proud. 

Please, do not mourn me, Yunho. Celebrate me. Go buy the good stuff and enjoy a few drinks. Buy a rare hunk of meat, cook it in some fancy elegant sauce, and eat it. Hell, go to one of the nicer brothels and splurge on the high price girls. Buy that girl of yours something pretty. Buy everything and anything you want. Bet money on winning horses or hounds. Don’t mope or cry about me. I didn’t get to live, so I want you to do it for me. 

Love forever, 

Pop.’ 

He received the news of his father���s death shortly after the letter's arrival. A messenger came to give him his father’s belongings, which wasn't much, but now sat in a box in the closet. He planned on selling the house to someone or perhaps renting it for some extra cash. His father wouldn’t have wanted him to hang on to the past. Sadly, the past kept wanting to hang onto him. 

Yunho has been working for most of his life to keep himself and his father fed. Despite his father's title of ‘Lord’, the family fortune had been squandered centuries before Yunho had been born. The only treasures left to them were their old decrepit mansion and a few family heirlooms. After years of scrubbing floors and cleaning clothes, he had the opportunity to work in a lord's household as a footman. From then he became a serving man, a butler, assistant, and finally a household manager. He moved from house to house serving the elite who looked down on his family. When he came into Seonghwa’s employ, his father couldn't have been happier. 

“Hey, my boy is going to work for the son of Asmodeus! Ain't that something?”  

He’d made good money. Very good money, and most of it went back home to his father. Unfortunately, his father's gambling problem took hold of him, causing him to own more money than he's worth. From what his cousins told him, a lord offered him a job possessing souls in the mortal world. Yunho wished he'd been told beforehand; he could have talked him out of it. Possessions aren’t easy, and only the well trained can perform them successfully. He told Yunho it was good money: fifty gold for every soul brought down. Yunho said his father was too old; he'd be going to his “nap” soon. His father argued that he still had it in him and to not worry. Things had been going okay, from what he’d told Yunho, until a priest got in the way. 

He doesn’t know what kind of magic the priest used, but it’d landed his father in the hospital. The doctors told Yunho that holy magic is deadly to their kind, just like holy weapons, and it would kill his father. He liked to think that he’d at least get paid for the gig. He didn’t. The lord who sent him never planned on paying him, but instead passing off his father’s hard work as his own. Yunho would have killed him were he not high born. 

“You should get ready,” Mingi said. “The Masters haven’t woken up yet, so you still have time. That big ball thing starts tonight, so they said they want to get to the hamlet early to get settled in for the weekend.”

Yunho groaned at the realization. Today was the first day of Prince Asmodeus's private ball. The Passionate Heart Ball was simply another excuse for the nobility of Hell to get together and indulge in all sorts of debauchery. Servants are not allowed to attend on a guest level, but do accompany their masters to serve. Seonghwa normally let Yunho stay behind to manage the keep, and he'd take someone else, but this time he insisted Yunho join them. He claimed the house didn’t feel right without Yunho there. His father would say that having a lord's trust comes in handy in the long run, but Yunho did not see how. Leaving the window, Yunho went to a wash basin by the mirror. He splashed cool water onto his face to soothe the heat rising inside him. 

“It wasn’t as if he was a young demon, Yunho,” Mingi said, watching him change out of his nightshirt. “Your father was four-hundred centuries old and close to taking his Big Nap; he wasn’t exactly a spring chicken. He shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with possessions at his age.” 

“Don’t blame my father for falling victim to the greed of high borns.” 

“I’m not,” he said, “But I am saying that your dad’s in a better place, somewhere, maybe. I don’t know where we will go when we die.”

“Neither do I,” and that scared him. 

Picking up his uniform shirt first, Yunho thought about when he first heard what happened. He had been wrapped up in Mingi’s arms, enjoying his warmth and closeness after a long day, when Linette came into his room. Anxious, the young demon told him he had a phone call. It was his father. Yunho remembered how frail he sounded; his deep voice croaking and weak from his drained powers. He’d assured Yunho he’d be alright; that with some medicine, rest, and proper care, he’d be back on his feet in no time. The doctor Yunho spoke to disagreed. 

‘The magic stayed in him too long. He should have come straight to us after the exorcism, but he went home instead. We don’t know how long he has, but we’ll do our best to save him.” 

Yunho never felt so helpless before. Seonghwa gave him leave to be with his father without question, but that had been the worst part. Seeing his father, a strong demon of greed, so sickly and frail tore his heart in two. He’d thought to ask the lord who gave him the job for assistance of some kind, but he didn’t even answer Yunho’s calls. When he visited him personally, he was rejected with laughter. It was the least he could have done. It was another example of how the rich exploited and abused the poor without a care in the world. 

He checked himself out in a nearby mirror. His uniform fit him like a glove, since he’d paid to personally have sets tailored. Tailored clothes were an unheard of luxury back home. The clothes normal people wore either came from secondhand shops or were made from cheap fabric. Looking over the small corner dresser, a ring caught his eye. His father's opal and silver ring sat on the top, and his heart dropped. His most expensive possession, it had been passed down from Jeong to Jeong for hundreds of years. It was the last symbol of their status. Yunho slipped it onto his ring finger, fondly recalling the first time he ever saw it. 

“This has been in our family since before Lucifer. I would never give this up. Not for all the gold in the world.”

“Don't you look good,” said Mingi, likely trying to lighten his mood. 

Were he not plagued by his own thoughts, Yunho might have playfully flirted back. Not today. Not when the world felt so lifeless and grey. He may have not been the best parent, but Yunho did not hate his father. They had ups and downs as all families do, yet hate never crossed his mind once. Not even when his father gambled away his money on hounds and horses. He couldn't envision himself hating his father. Mingi’s arms went around his waist, and he rested his head on his shoulder. Yunho felt a lump swell in his throat, threatening to burn his eyes with tears. 

“He was a good man,” he whispered. “A good man who they took advantage of.” 

“I know,” he said softly, kissing the crook of his neck. “We should eat,” Mingi said, idly playing with his dangling earring, “Maybe a bit of-”

“-Did you know he was a jester before he was forced into Possessions?” Yunho said bitterly, tears glazing his eyes. “He was a jester for Lord Authos, this demon in the mountains. The man used to make a complete fool of my father, forcing him to perform tricks and jokes for the entertainment of others. I remember once seeing them throw rotten food at him in a game.” Yunho recalled the memory so vividly, it might have happened yesterday. “They thought it’d be funny,” he said, hate in his voice, “To see who could get the most hits. My father…” the resentment burned deep inside him, “He had to stay attached to a wheel and take the humiliation because those high born scum-”

“-Easy, love, easy,” Mingi soothed him softly, rubbing his arms and nuzzling his neck. “Not all high borns are like that. Our masters wouldn’t do anything like that-”

“-Yes, they’ve done worse,” he said. “Before YN came, they used to feed servants to the beast in the greenhouse. Hongjoong carries around a fucking whip to remind us who is in charge, and that he could whack us whenever he damn well pleases-”

“-He doesn’t do that anymore-”

“-I don’t care,” he spat, hands curling into fists. “Let’s not forget the demons who get thrown into the arena to die for the entertainment of the rich. They have to fight for their lives just to get back to freedom.”

“They were criminals, Yunho-”

“-Then why not punish them as criminals should be punished? Why is a man who stole a loaf of bread forced to fight his way to freedom? Did these bastards ever stop to wonder why he stole that bread?” 

“Yunho, please, calm down,” Mingi said again, still comfortingly. 

“And her,” the word came in a hiss through his teeth, “That woman treats us like playthings.”

“That isn’t true, Yunho,” he said a bit more firmly. Yunho forgot; he is your bodyguard and very fond of you. 

“Oh no? The woman is constantly flaunting and flashing her body at me, hoping I’ll give into my weakness again and fuck her brains out,” he said, remembering the last time he indulged you. He’d wanted it, of course, but after his father’s death, a high born woman is the last person he wishes to pleasure. “I’m surprised she isn’t pregnant with all the times she’s ridden cock.”

“Yunho, that’s enough,” Mingi said, moving away from him. “I know you’re angry and grieving, but don’t you dare start on her. She’s been nothing but kind to you. Okay, so she gets a bit horny, but who here doesn’t get like that? We’re all incubi and succubi, if you’ve forgotten. It’s in our nature to be that way. I recall you not saying ‘no’ whenever she managed to get you in bed, or were you pretending to make her happy?” 

“Of course not. I won’t deny I enjoyed every second, but…we are nothing to them,” he said, keeping the thickness from his voice. “We’re toys for their amusement. We can be disposed of, dismissed on a whim, and punished for the smallest infraction, and nothing would be done about it. Nobody would raise a hand or speak a word. We might not wear collars, but we’ll always be slaves to them.” 

It was true. His father proved that over and over throughout his childhood. When Authos saw his father’s potential in the coin factory, he brought him into his household as the jester. Yunho remembered every punishment he witnessed whenever his father did not perform well. Seonghwa and his brothers might not engage in the same amusements, but they never spoke against it either. They went to the arena, enjoying the benefits of their station. They did not protest when they witnessed poor treatment in front of them. If they did, it was said with annoyance or boredom. 

“Let’s get something to eat, huh? Otherwise, we’ll be starving when we get there.” 

“I don't think I can.”

“Just try.”

Yunho supposed he could. The pair left the servant's quarters for the kitchen, which was starting to come to life. Other servants walked around in their uniforms, preparing for The Masters and Mistress to wake up for their usual routine. He saw Cook and Linette already arguing across the island counter, and the footmen fighting about who gets to drive the Masters to the hamlet. The laundress stood near the scullery, scolding a maid so harshly the girl might burst into tears. Yunho did not have it in him to intervene in any of these spats. He walked by Cook and Linette to a cupboard pantry, where he normally fixed his own breakfast, but couldn't find the desire to eat. 

“-Master Seonghwa asked for a special breakfast,” Cook's rough voice reached from behind him, “And that's what I'm making. She's going to just have to swallow it.”

“Lady YN doesn't want the prefixed breakfast. She wants her own.”

“Master Seonghwa is the Duke, so his orders trump over hers,” he retorted. “Yunho,” he called him, “Come here and tell this Imp-”

“-Imp?!”

“-That I ain't taking special orders today. Master Seonghwa has requested a pre-fixed menu, and that's what I'm following.”

Yunho sighed deeply, pinched the space between his eyes before finally turning around. “What does Lady YN want?” he asked Linette. 

“French toast with strawberries, hashbrowns and eggs,” she answered. “She doesn't want to eat what Master Seonghwa has picked.”

“Too fucking bad,” hissed Cook. “She can't get her way all the time. There's rules in this keep, last time I checked!”

“Cookie, enough,” Yunho said, patting his shoulder. “Linette, Cook is right. Master Seonghwa asked for a specific type of breakfast, and Cook has already gone about preparing it.”

“She's not going to-”

“-I'm sorry, but Cook is starting to fix everything,” Yunho said, trying to keep himself calm. Why did you have to complicate everything? Why couldn't high born people make everyone's lives easier and take what they’re given? The rest of them have to. “She will have to eat whatever-”

“-She's the Mistress of this-”

“-Tough shit,” he nearly snapped. “Master Seonghwa is the Master, A Duke of Lust, and an Heir to Asmodeus’s throne. His word is law around here. Even with the title she holds now, she's going to have to come to heel once in a while. If she has an issue with that, she can take it up with one of the Masters.” 

Takenaback by his response, Linette did not speak at first. “She said-”

“-I don't care,” he cut her off again. “That's my final word on the subject. Franny!” He called the laundress, “Keep shouting at that girl, and I will give you something to cry about! They are just sheets! They can be washed again!” He turned to the four footmen near the back door, “Edgar, you are driving Master Seonghwa, Hongjoong and San. Mingi will be driving Mistress YN. Daniel will valet for the Masters, and Joseph will valet for The Mistress. If I hear any more bickering, everyone is getting a whipping from me personally!” He looked to the room at large, “It is six o'clock in the morning, how can you all have the energy for this nonsense? Am I running a house staff or a nursery?!” 

He left the kitchen without another word. Yunho began wishing he had not left his room. He squeezed his eyes tight, his instincts carrying him to Seonghwa’s bed chamber, as he pictured his father’s last moments. He’d told Yunho to go home. He said he didn’t want him to see him this way. His aunt and cousins stayed behind to watch over him for Yunho, and called him regularly now that they had a phone. He pictured his father, broad and strong, laying brittle and pale in his bed. His usual warmth, Yunho remembered, slowly turned cold and stiff as time passed. It sapped life from him slowly. That lump came back to his throat and he forced it down. 

He couldn’t help thinking of the lord, Lord Authos, who was part of Prince Mammon’s court. Clearly wanting to gain favor with the Prince, he offered the possession job to low income workers who wanted to earn some extra money. Authos could easily have done it himself, but he felt himself too above such work. All nobles did. It’s why they didn’t do their own housekeeping or cooking. 

He walked into Seonghwa’s apartment, and already sensed a shift in the air. Yunho moved to the bedroom doors where he heard your soft moans. Of course. When are you not throwing yourself at the nearest person? It was likely with some kisses and teasing, you'll get your own breakfast and disrupt everyone else's routines. You didn't care. Why should you? An inconvenience to one is not an inconvenience to a lord or lady.  

He stopped himself. You weren't to blame for his father's death. You didn't even know. He hadn't told anyone aside from Mingi, Seonghwa and Linette. Mingi was right. You might be a bit overzealous with your desires, but you never forced yourself on him even with your new abilities. You’ve always treated him with respect and compassion. You’re certainly different from other ladies he’d served, and he shouldn’t take his anger out on you or any of his masters. 

But, a part of him simply could not help it. 

Yunho decided to tidy the room instead. He had no desire to interrupt and possibly be drawn into the act. He only wanted to push away the thought of his father lying helpless in a hospital bed. When he heard your final climax, he stopped fluffing pillows and knocked on the door. 

“Enter,” Seonghwa panted from behind the door. 

As expected, both you and Seonghwa laid tangled in one another. Fully nude, neither of you bothered covering yourselves when he entered. Not that he expected that. His eyes scanned over your body, taking in your shape and size from afar. The usual urge to fondle and kiss you came to him, but he’d learned long ago how to control those impulses. If he stopped to indulge every time he felt a trickle of arousal, he’d get no work done. He didn’t have all the time in the world like some people did. 

“Good Morning, my lord, my lady,” Yunho bowed. 

“Morning, Yunho,” you smiled at him. “Ooh, I like the ring. It’s new.” 

“I thought I’d try accessorizing today,” he half-lied. 

“It looks good. Is that a real opal?”

“It is.” 

“Greed demons only wear real gems,” said Seonghwa. “You’ll never catch one dead in imitation stuff.”

“What did Cook say about my breakfast, by the way?” you asked, sitting up and stretching. “I sent Linette to ask him about it.”

“What breakfast?” Seonghwa asked before Yunho could respond. “I already sent him a menu for today.”

“I saw it,” you said, “But I’ve been craving french toast with strawberries and powdered sugar lately and thought it was a good day to have them.”

“I’m sorry, my lady, but Cook only prepared the ingredients and supplies for Master Seonghwa’s fixed menu,” Yunho said. “He doesn’t have all the ingredients to make anything off that menu.”

“Well, can’t he just get it? The market isn’t that far. He can send someone to get the stuff, and he can make it.” 

‘Or you can stop being a brat and eat what you’re given.’ He thought sourly. 

“He doesn’t have anyone to spare,” Yunho answered honestly. 

You left Seonghwa’s side to kneel in front of him. In the morning light, your divinity glowed. He swept over your naked breasts, following a trail to your center where you kept yourself trimmed. Having just had Seonghwa, he spotted a distinct wetness on your inner thighs. When he met your eyes again, you gave him that typical flirtatious smirk of yours. A high born woman was the last person he saw himself pleasing today. No doubt you’d now use your seductive powers to get what you want from him. 

“But, surely with all your influence around here,” you said, reaching for his hand, “You could just talk to him for me? You’re one of the only people he actually listens to.”

“Because we respect the chain of command,” he replied, “Which is what we’re doing here. Master Seonghwa made an order, and we’re only following it.”

“I’m the Mistress around here. I think I have a bit more power than I used to, right?” You massaged his hand delicately, giving him a small pout. “I shouldn’t have to beg a servant to get what I want.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he slipped his hand from your grasp, “But unless Master Seonghwa changes his mind, then there’s nothing we could really do for the situation.”

“But Yunho,” you brought him close, your naked body against his clothed one, “Aren’t I your goddess?”

He knew you’d use that line. The image of you taking advantage of him crossed his mind. You’d undress him, kissing down to his crotch where you’d eagerly suck him. If he couldn’t enjoy Linette’s lovely body or Mingi’s soft lips, he’d at least get yours. It’s not as if you’d say ‘no’. Everyone in the keep knew you could go for much longer and didn’t mind multiple lovers. But, he thought of the work he had to do downstairs. 

“You are,” he said, though it wasn’t your face that came to mind these days, “But goddess or not-”  

“-Kitten,” Seonghwa cut you off, “How about you start a bath for us? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Or Yunho can do it with me,” you suggested, “Like he’s supposed to.” 

“YN,” his voice came more firmly, “Go, please.” 

You gave a short huff of contempt, but then slipped from the bed. 

Yunho busied himself tying back the curtains behind him when Seonghwa spoke. “It’s not her fault.”

“You spoil that girl,” he said, roughly tugging on the golden chords. “She might be a lady, but there’s a hierarchy around here, and you’re in charge. Not her.”

Seonghwa chuckled, “Try telling her that.”

“I’ve never understood the point of having a set routine if it is constantly broken,” he said. “She never eats when or what everyone else does. She never dresses accordingly. She never-”

“-Yunho, she isn’t to blame,” Seonghwa said harshly. “As you said, she’s a Lady of Eden-”

‘A whore of Eden, more like.’ 

“-And you’ll respect her.” 

‘Why? She doesn’t respect herself.’

He stopped himself again. 

“I’m sorry about your father, Yunho, but he entered into that agreement. He knew the risks before he went up there.”

“The man didn’t even pay him,” Yunho seethed. “He risks his life going up there to collect souls, and the bastard doesn’t pay him. He laughed. He fucking laughed.” His voice cracked, thinking of the highborn lord's wheezy laughter. “I asked him to pay up, and he laughed.” 

“Authos is a demon of greed.” 

“He knew my father could not disobey his orders, and took advantage of that for his own gain.” 

“Again: are you really that surprised?”

“It doesn’t make me any less angry.” 

“I know it doesn't, but lashing out at others is not going to heal anything. It’ll only fuel your anger more.”

“Good. Somebody should be angry.” 

“Carry on with your duties, Yunho,” he said with a sigh. “I want everyone on the road by nine o’clock. The hamlet is far, and it’ll take forever to get there. See that Cook makes YN’s breakfast, please.” 

“Yes, my lord.”

He bowed and left the room. Seonghwa didn’t understand. He has never had to answer to anyone, not even his lecherous, indifferent father. If Yunho’s father had refused the task, he would’ve been whipped or worse, and then forced to go. Authos knew his father needed the money. He knew about his father’s gambling debts; he knew about the loan sharks that constantly dogged him, and how deep in the hole he’d gotten. Yunho’s salary combined with his did not make the cut. None of them understood that. Right as he walked out of Seonghwa’s apartment, a high voice called out to him from nearby. 

“Yunho,” Master Hongjoong stood by his open door, tying his black robe around his waist. Cherry red hair slightly tousled from sleep, he still had the bleary eyed look of having woken up. “Yunho, make sure Cook brings out the riesling for breakfast. Seonghwa prepared a light breakfast, from what he told me.”

Wine for breakfast? “Of course, my lord. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thanks,” he beamed, then escaped back into his room. 

It wasn’t long before the third master of the house appeared. A towel draped over his shoulders, sweat matting his black hair, Master San grinned at him happily. “Yunho, glad I ran into you,” he said, dabbing his forehead. A morning run. How nice to have such leisure time. His father would be getting ready to amuse the lords right now. “Can you make sure that Cook makes my eggs over medium? Over-easy is too runny for me.”

“I’ll let him know right away, my lord,” he bowed. 

“Thank you, Yunho.” 

At least he gets a ‘thank you’. He never received that from other lords or ladies. Yunho knew, as he walked back to the kitchen, that he was incredibly lucky. If he worked for any other lord, he’d be whipped on the spot for his attitude. Seonghwa might sympathize after his childhood in the slums, but he was still part of the upper class. The nobility. The people who made other peoples’ lives miserable simply because they could. One would think that kind of treatment would be given to sinners and mortals, not their fellow demons. 

“Cook,” he approached the demon by the stoves, flipping bacon on a flat-top grill, “Master Seonghwa has approved of Mistress YN’s breakfast order.”

“What?!” he growled at once, cutting up the bacon with his spatula, “You’re toying with me, boy.”

“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to send someone to get the ingredients for it.”

“I don’t have enough hands,” he gestured to the four cooks around him. “The market is an hour away from here. Tell him I can’t.”

“I’ll send one of the servants, then. Master Seonghwa is the Master of the House. He gets what he wants.”

“Hmpfh, they all get what they want,” he grumbled. “Back in my day, the women did what the men told them or else got a black eye. He lets that little nympho-”

“-Cookie,” Yunho said sternly, “Don’t get riled up again or you’ll irritate your hip.” From what he knew, Cook sustained his lifelong injury from holy magic centuries ago. It never healed right. 

He took the chopped bacon off the grill, “Alright, alright. What did she want again?”

It won’t heal his wounds, but it could be fun to see their faces. “She said french toast with blueberries and cream.” He then added, “And don’t shoot the messenger, but Master Hongjoong asked for chardonnay with his breakfast wine and Master San wants his eggs over easy.” 

He growled, fangs flashed for the briefest moment. “Any other special requests while you’re here, Jeong?”

“No. Everything else stays as is.”

He gruffed, then went back to the grill. Yunho walked to the coffee station where the servants prepared their own drinks. He mused over how his father loved coffee, and what a luxury it was to the lower classes. One might think greed demons draped themselves in precious metals and gems, wore fine designer clothes and drove flashy cars. The ignorant thought they drank fine wines and ate rare and exotic dishes. It might be true of the wealthy, but not the poor. Not like him and his father, who had nothing. Yunho worked hard to get the things he had now, while people like Seonghwa and his brothers simply received it. Stirring fine sugar into the rich, dark drink, he recalled what his father once told him. 

‘Enjoy the finer things slowly, Son. We don’t get them very often.’ 

He’d said this when he caught Yunho greedily shoving chocolate in his mouth. Another rarity. Yunho normally lets his resentment float away in the air, but not today. 

****

The feast disgusted him. Standing by the kitchen door, he watched maids take plates of food upstairs. Chilled fruits, fresh baked goods, steaming breakfast potatoes, sausages and bacon, and various types of jams and spreads went by him on silver platters. Fresh squeezed orange juice, cold milk, and hot coffee were carried up in carafes. Seonghwa, San and Hongjoong would be eating a special kind of frittata with zucchini and fresh herbs, accompanied with rations of bacon and crusty bread. His father usually ate a hunk of bread or a bowl of cornmeal mush with mint tea. Hardly the food of kings. 

Or dukes. 

“The wine Master Hongjoong requested, sir,” a servant said to Yunho, showing the bottle for his inspection. 

“Perfect,” he grinned. “Thank you, Diana.” 

Yunho typically then worked with the housekeeping staff to tidy up the apartments, but instead, he went upstairs behind the maids. He wanted to see it with his own eyes. He saw the masters and mistress sitting at their dining table, a table decorated in a fine cloth and real silver candlesticks with fresh flowers. This dining room was larger than the poor mountain shacks back home. He watched the servants put down the trays around the table, then the magic began. 

“Um, Yunho,” you said first, staring down at your plate, “I’d asked for strawberries and sugar. This is, like, the opposite.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” 

In front of you was a stack of fluffy slices of french toast with cream and jam in between, topped with blueberries. He knew people who’d be more than grateful to have such a sweet, filling breakfast. Yet, you pouted over the slight change. 

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said. “Cook must’ve misheard me. He’s been distracted lately. His hip must be bothering him again.”

“Then Cook must be really off, because I asked for my eggs over medium,” said San, who examined his eggs. “Didn’t you tell him about it, Yunho?”

“I did, of course, sir.”

“He also got the riesling and chardonnay confused,” said Hongjoong, who sipped the drink from a wine glass with a silver stem. Real silver, not painted wood. “But, no big deal. It’s still just as good.” 

Your disappointment healed something inside him. “I guess this is okay,” you said, cutting into it and taking a bite. “It’s amazing either way. Like, Cook is a genius.”

“The man’s been around since before Lucifer’s fall. He worked for Beelzebub before our dad hired him. It's why he gets away with everything.” 

“Tell Cook thanks,” you told Yunho, “And that I hope his hip gets better. He’s a mean ol’ grouch, but he’s our mean ol’ grouch.” 

You took a big bite of the french toast, cream ending up on the sides of your mouth. Seeing the mess brought images of the last time you put him in your mouth. It’d been sloppy and rough, involving him choking you with it. He had indulged you because you’d kissed him beforehand. You’d learned how to control the dosage of your kisses, knowing light pecks only lasted an hour while deep kisses kept one going all day. Yunho did see the downsides even if other people did not: it was physically taxing and draining. He didn’t have the time for that. 

Not with you, anyway. 

“Will you be requiring anything else, my lords?” he asked the family at large. 

“No, thank you, Yunho,” Seonghwa answered, picking up the newspaper he’d been handed. “You may finish packing up.”

He left the staff to clean up after breakfast service, and started preparing for departure to the meadows. While the family went off to enjoy their day, everyone else kept working. His father never had a day off. Jesters are meant to be “on” every day from sunup to sun down. He only stopped when his masters went to sleep; the same fate his son shared now. The only difference was Yunho got Sundays off. 

Such was the life of the lowborn. 

“On a scale of one to ten,” Mingi said when he approached the carriage outside, “How disappointed are you that your little plan backfired?”

Yunho sighed, “About a three. In the end, it was childish and petty. Deep down, I shouldn’t be blaming them for what another demon lord did.” 

“You're lucky Master Seonghwa can’t read your mind. You'd be in trouble for sure.” He then said, “How about you, me and Linette get a drink tonight when they've gone to sleep? Asmodeus has the best bartenders who can sneak us the good stuff.”

“Alright.”

Everyone got into their places when the front doors opened and the four masters came out. Seeing them in their tailored clothes and expensive jewelry, smelling of fine perfumes, his resentment for the higher classes grew. He watched Hongjoong and San slide into your carriage while Seonghwa rode alone. What sort of change had you demanded now? He didn’t care. He’d be riding with Linette and some of the staff. At least, that was what he thought. 

“Yunho,” you called to him sweetly, “Come ride with me.”

He noticed the short sundress you'd thrown on, and couldn't look away. The deep V neck line plunged between your breasts, making them more noticeable to him. The last time he touched them came to mind, your hard nipples being teased by his tongue. Linette had been there, stroking him while you both shoved your tits in his face. 

“Oh, I'm already riding with-”

“-And now you can ride with me,” he saw the glimmer of flirtation in your eyes. “I know you got my order wrong on purpose,” you said with a sly smile. “You can make it up to me in the car.”

“He's already riding with me,” Seonghwa poked out his head from his carriage window. 

“But Seonghwa-”

“-He is my butler. He rides with me.”

You huffed, and walked off. Yunho couldn't ignore the pang of disappointment. He watched your dress swish along the backs of your thighs. If he couldn't have Linette and her sweet lips, he could at least have enjoyed yours instead. 

“Yunho, come along now.”

Unable to refuse, Yunho climbed inside the carriage. He'd been looking forward to riding with the others. There are so few chances for down time in their line of work, and he wanted to take advantage of it. He hadn't spent much time with Linette, and he would've liked to be with her. Seonghwa pulled out a deck of cards as the carriage began rolling. Yunho’s lip curled slightly knowing how this ride would end. 

“She can be incorrigible,” he said, expertly shuffling the deck. “I suppose the railing I gave her wasn't enough.”

“She is part succubus, sir.”

“We're both incubi, Yunho, and we can control it just fine.”

“She might still be trying to control that part of herself. It's hard to learn that when everyone enables her.”

“We enable her, hm?”

“Yes, my lord. If she is accustomed to getting what she wants, then she'll  see no reason to control her urges.”

“Is that why you're always rejecting her?”

“I reject her because not all of us have the time in the world. We have work to do.” 

“But when you have no work and are stuck in a carriage with her for a long trip?” he suggested, a knowing glint in his eyes. “She loves big ones, and you're…considerable.”

“Well, if that were the case, I wouldn't mind indulging her.” He'll admit, the idea of you half naked, moaning and bouncing in his lap sounded nice. Though, Linette sounded so much better. “She's…”

“A horny nymph that knows exactly what to do to lure you into her bed,” Seonghwa finished amusedly. 

“Yes.”

“You should have seen her when you left,” he said. “She whined that she wanted you to join. I explained to her what has been going on with you, and she stopped after that.” Seonghwa eyed the ring on Yunho's finger. “That is a nice ring though. Where did you get it?”

“Family heirloom,” he answered. Glad to have a topic aside from you, he grabbed at it. “It came with my father’s things. It belonged to one of my ancestors; I don't know which one. It was the most expensive thing he owned.”

“It must’ve been hard for him,” he began dealing out cards. “Greed demons love money and gold.”

“But not all of us have it,” he said, picking up his hand as it came. “I sent him money every payday to keep him at least comfortable, and he gambled a good chunk of it away. He was drowning in his debts, and always needed money.” 

“What about your mother? You never talk about her.”

Yunho’s heart ripped another hole. “She was killed by an angel,” he said. “She was a demon of wrath.”

“I thought you were pureblooded.”

Yunho shook his head, “They told me they met in the inner city at a gambling den. She was a guard; my father was a jester.” 

“Well, that explains your strength ability,” he huffed, putting a card back and picking up another, “Can that be the reason you leave my Kitten so sore when you’re done with her?” he smirked. “She tells me you become a different person when you’re hard.”

“I suppose. Her kisses only make it worse.”

“Ha, that they do,” he snorted. “She knows the power she holds and isn't afraid to use it now. It’s how she gets her way.”

“That and that she has you wrapped around her fingers, sir. I never knew a Son of Asmodeus to cave to his submissive’s charms so easily.” 

Seonghwa smirked, “She’s very persuasive, as you well know. You oblige her.”

“She’s my mistress. I have to cater to her every whim.” 

“Then, you can cater to her at the party. I'd like you to come with us,” he said next. He hissed when Yunho showed his winning hand, and took back all the cards. He started shuffling again as he said, “My father's butlers are fine, but they don't know us the way you do.”

“I'm not going to be a toy,” Yunho said sternly. 

“You won’t be,” he assured him. “You’ll be there to serve, not to entertain.”

“Both are the same thing to that crowd.” 

“Not with me. Now,” he started dealing the cards again, “Let’s put in bets this time. It makes things more interesting.” 

By the time they reached Asmodeus’s territory, Seonghwa lost a ring, a watch and most of his money. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t play against someone who can block me from their mind,” Seonghwa said, chuckling at his misfortune. It must be nice when one doesn’t have to worry about going broke. 

The sun shone high above the flowery meadows that stretched for miles, smelling of wildflowers and fresh air. It made for a romantic, tranquil sight as they drove through the dirt road. He imagined the flowers might carry some sort of alluring enchantment to draw people closer to his massive mansion in the countryside. They would be travelling to the countryside home reserved for the three masters. A hamlet set on the side of a large lake, there were two distinct areas: the main house, and the servant’s house. Yunho couldn’t help noticing the much larger main house could easily fit more people, while the servant house was smaller. 

Clearly, the royal ego needed the extra room. 

“I forgot how gorgeous this place is,” Seonghwa softly grinned. “When was the last time we were here, Yunho?”

“Four years ago, my lord.” 

The ride from the keep gave him a chance to cool down, so now his exhaustion finally hit him. But, there was work to be done. His own belongings would have to wait until the family was settled in. Immediately, Yunho began directing the footmen on where the masters’ luggage belonged. Seonghwa took the bedroom that overlooked the gardens; Hongjoong preferred the lakeside view, and San favored the room facing the meadow. Since it’s meant to house guests, you took up the room beside Seonghwa. No doubt he will discreetly tell you about the hidden door connecting the two bedrooms. Yunho unfortunately knew about the servant pathways behind the walls. To avoid disturbing the family and their guests, servants used these paths to get from one part of the house to the other without being seen. Cook told him the ones back in the keep were used for that before Seonghwa took over. 

He spent the afternoon preparing the different bedrooms, and then went to the kitchen for lunch service. He’d been inspecting the produce for bruises or rot when Linette appeared in the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare come to me with any special requests, girl,” Cook warned from the large walk-in cooler. “The menus are already set.” 

“She just wants a snack tray for lunch,” Linette said. “Green grapes, sliced ham and turkey, those little cheese cubes, and some crackers. Don’t say you don’t have them, because you do. She put it on her list.” 

“What’s wrong with what I am serving?” he asked, affronted. “It’s going to be a masterpiece. How could she want a silly snack tray instead?” 

“She isn’t that hungry after the breakfast she had,” she shrugged. “Can’t you just do it? She’s our mistress, and we have to go along with her wishes.” 

“Damned woman,” he grumbled, grabbing his apron and going back into the walk-in. “All the work we have to do and now I have…never in my years have I…should’ve stayed with Beezelbub…” 

Yunho felt her eyes fall on him, and he ignored her gaze. He pictured those big brown eyes surveying him from afar, likely trying to read his mood. If anyone other than Mingi stirred something inside him, it was Linette. 

“Yunho?” she walked over to him, “How are you?” 

“I’m well.”

She came around the counter to stand next to him. Yunho sometimes forgot how beautiful Linette really was. Enchanting and charming, the natural light highlighted her golden dark brown skin, and gave her curls a shine. She’d worn it back in a high slicked up ponytail, letting the curls fall freely at the end.  He gazed over her full lips, recalling their sweetness from the lip balm she wore, and thought of kissing them. He thought of holding her smaller frame in his large one, drowning his senses in her. Everything in his heart weighed him down, and he longed for a quiet moment with her. 

“No, really,” she said. “How are you feeling? I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you since your father passed.” 

“I said I’m well.”

“Yunho,” she drew closer to him, “Please, don't shut me out.”

Yunho paused, feeling her warm hands on his arm. “It’s a lot,” he admitted, putting the apples in a bowl. He swallowed back the lump again. “I’d rather not get into it right now.” 

“Okay,” she nodded. “We can talk later tonight then? Mingi wants to get drinks from the bar. The three of us could drink together and catch up.” 

A smile broke his stone face, cheeks getting warm. “Catch up, hm?”

“You can call it that, if you want,” she smirked. “I personally call it a bit of stress-relief,” she said in his ear, lips brushing the outer edge. “Your girl has been extra good lately. Shouldn't I get a little reward for that-”

“-Don’t,” he cut her off, “Or you might get it sooner than you intended.” 

She smiled, “Is that a promise?” 

He finally turned to see her. She no longer wore the black and white uniform of the rest of the staff. Hers was a light lavender that ended around her thighs. The first three buttons remained unopened, and from the right angle he saw her ample cleavage. When he really looked, he noticed a golden chain just beneath her collar. His heart warmed knowing that she wore the ring even under her clothes. Golden with the words “my beloved” engraved inside, it had been his mother’s wedding ring. She wore it in a necklace since it might get lost with the type of work she did. Yunho didn’t mind. Her simply wearing it made him happy. 

“Will you be entertaining tonight?” he asked, unable to control the slight possessiveness he felt over her sometimes. 

“Mistress YN said I could if I wanted,” she said. “There will be a lot of good looking lords and ladies there, but I don't want any of them.” She paused, “Will you be going or staying here?”

“Master Seonghwa wishes for me to go,” he replied. “On a serving basis only, not entertainment.”

“Shame,” she pouted, “I thought we could sneak away once they all start drinking and have our own party somewhere.” She glanced at Cook, who had his back turned, and leaned in closer, “I miss you in my bed. Mingi comes to me still, but I miss having you. It’s not the same.” 

“I haven’t been in the mood.”

“Even for me and Mingi?”

“Yes. I haven’t…felt up to it, that’s all. It isn’t you,” he added when he saw her frown. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, it’s that…”

“You’re still upset,” she finished for him. “I understand. It’s why I haven’t bothered you, but after I saw you explode in the kitchen,” she smiled bashfully and looked away, “I’ve been kind of turned on.” 

“What?”

“I’ve never seen you break like that before,” she said. She looked back up at him, “It was sexy. You’re usually so cool and calm even when you’re angry. Seeing you be so open turned me on a bit.” 

“If your mistress keeps pushing my buttons, you might see more of it.” 

“Maybe I can push them too?” 

She moved to press against him, but then a ringing bell caught their attention. Yunho saw the bell in Seonghwa's bedroom ringing, and wondered what he could possibly need now. 

“Later?” He turned to Linette. 

“Later,” she said, “If our mistress doesn't swipe you from me first.”

She tiptoed to kiss his cheek, then walked back over to Cook. Yunho put off his work to go to Seonghwa’s bedroom. Standing outside the door, he heard voices rising. 

“-I told you not to bring that thing with you! I specifically said it! I said ‘Kitten, bring whatever you like except that beast’!’”

“Oh, leave her alone! She's not hurting anyone.”

Yunho knew right away what Seonghwa referred to: Minnie, the miniature version of Octavius you'd created. The untrained plant slunk around your bedroom, being treated more like a dog than a plant. It hissed and growled at everyone except you. She bit and nearly strangled one of the footmen. She liked tearing up furniture, leaving her slimy trails everywhere, and eating everything in sight. Seonghwa warned you to keep her under control and properly train her. From what Linette said, it was not going well. Yunho didn't think you'd bring her with you. 

“She tore up my couch cushions, YN, and nearly killed one of the footmen,” he replied firmly. “I can't believe you brought her when I said not to.”

“I can bring her wherever I want,” you argued. “She's my baby.”

“She's a menace,” he retorted. “Look, she's eating my boots!”

“Minnie, no! Bad girl!”

Yunho heard a low growl be soothed into a soft purr. “She doesn't know any better,” you said. “She's only a baby.”

“A baby who needs proper training.”

“I have been training her. She's a work in progress.”

“I don't want her here. I told you to leave her at home.”

“I'm not a slave anymore. I don't have to listen to you if I don't want to,” you'd remarked. You sounded like a child. Yunho told him it was a mistake to let you keep it. “It's too late to send her back. I'll keep her in my room, I promise.”

“Fine,” he said defeatedly. “Just get her out of here before she eats the rest of my stuff.”

Opening the door, you stood slightly startled to find him there. In your arms was the bulbous green and purple plant with its thin vines acting like arms. No eyes, Minnie used the long tendrils to feel her way around. Yunho once told Linette he didn't see the beast lasting long. Either it wilts away and dies, gets lost or finally hits the masters’ last nerves.

“Yunho,” you said, taking in his presence, “Can you see if Cook has any spare meat for Minnie? She's hungry.”

“Yes, my lady.” The damn thing was always hungry. 

“Awesome, thanks! You can just bring it to my room.”

You beamed appreciatively and walked away. Yunho entered the apartment to find Seonghwa flopping down into a chair. He immediately went to work fixing a drink for his master, who took it gratefully. 

“I can't believe she brought that thing with her,” he groaned. “Now it's going to destroy the house.”

“I'll ask Jongho to keep a close eye on it, my lord.”

“I specifically asked her not to,” he continued, taking a drink. “She never listens.”

“Perhaps you should start reigning her in more,” he suggested. “You are the Master of this household. Not her. She should at the very least listen to what you have to say.”

“Are you saying I should spank her more often, Yunho?” he leered. “Or would you like to do it yourself?”

“If you wish to pass the job onto me, then I will do it, my lord.” The thought of you across his lap, weeping and whimpering as he spanked you hard crossed his mind. “She could use one.” 

He imagined you, so high and mighty, kicking your feet and wriggling as his spanking grew harsher. You'd get wet, no doubt, seeping from both holes as your arousal grew. Unlike his masters, he wouldn't give you the pleasure you needed until you earned it. A proper lesson isn't learned if there's a reward at the end. 

“It'd be a delicious sight, huh?” he asked. 

“She's…” 

“Been teasing you all morning. I've noticed. You're the hardest one for her to get into bed. I imagine it bugs her.”

“I have work to do. Was there something you needed from me, my lord?”

“Yes,” he said, drinking from his glass, “Can you make sure lunch is served in the garden? It's gorgeous outside and I'd like to enjoy the view.”

That was all? He called him away from Linette for that? “Yes, sir.” 

He bowed and went back towards the kitchen to relay the order. With everyone busy working on lunch service, Yunho went into the walk-in for strips of beef for the plant. He thought of giving the order to Linette or Jongho, but they were busy attending to your room. He put a few slices on a silver platter.

“I know you aren’t taking my Grade A, prime beef up to the beast, boy,” Cook said as he chopped onions. “That's dinner.”

“I only took a small portion,” Yunho said. 

“Why can’t you just find a hellcat or a bird and use that?”

“I’m sure it’ll find one eventually. Cook,” he sighed defeatedly, “I don’t like this any more than you. We must make do with what we have on hand.”

“Hmpf.” Despite his reaction, Cook knew he was right. “Back in my day,” Cook gruffed, pushing the onion aside, “Ladies had hellcats and hounds, not plants that eat everything in sight.”

“Oh, that’s not true and you know it,” Yunho chuckled, walking past him. “Mistress Minyoung once had a two-headed snake that kept strangling everyone, remember?”

This lightened the old demon’s mood somewhat, and Yunho went back upstairs. 

Entering your room, he should have known what he'd really be walking into: you half naked on the chaise couch by the window. You'd stripped off your dress to reveal the hot pink lingerie underneath, showing off the body he drooled over. 

“Ah, you brought Minnie's food,” you smiled, strategically laying on your front, hugging a pillow so he saw your whole figure. “Minnie, baby! Lunch!”

Minnie slunk from a leafy bed in the corner towards Yunho. She hissed, baring sharp fangs and waving her tentacles, and went for his ankles. Yunho nearly kicked her before tossing the food away. When she went towards it, he scowled before turning back to you. His eyes lingered on your chest again. He already knew of their softness and sensitivity. He loved flicking his tongue on them to hear you whine his name. Yunho could not help worshipping you every time he indulged. The only woman whose body beat yours was Linette, whom he adored. 

“Thank you, Yunho,” you said, making a point to grind as if getting into a comfortable angle. “You're always so helpful.”

“It's my job, my lady. If that is all, I have work.”

“You work too much,” you said, “That's not good. All work and no play?” 

“Not all of us have the luxury of getting to play all day,” he said as calmly as possible. Why did you all insist on wasting his time? “If you need nothing else-”

“-Not even a few minutes for your Mistress?” You pouted as you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs. He could see your shaved cunt through the flimsy underwear. “For your goddess?” you teased, giggling at his rosy cheeks.

He stepped forwards, walking to where you sat, “That depends…” Yunho suddenly wrapped his hand around your throat, keeping you in place on the couch, “Do you deserve it?” 

“Yunho…”

“Because sluts like you should work for what they want,” he said, his other hand going down your body to your center. Long fingers danced up and down your slit, prodding through the fine fabric keeping you apart. “If the masters won’t do it, I’ll gladly take up the task for them.”

“Yunho,” you said, surprised but not displeased, “What's gotten into you?”

He bent down to you, then said in a low voice, “You. You have been teasing me all day,” he traced lazy circles over your center which caused you to wriggle under him. “You've been flashing those tits of yours at me. You've been suggestive and forward. I bet if I'd ridden with you, I would've been the one getting a ride.” He gave your sex a light tap, sneering at your reaction. “Pathetic little slut,” he said, tapping it again, “Sex is all you think about, isn't it? Hm?”

“Yes,” you murmured, breath getting heavier as your arousal built up. 

“Well, so do I,” another smack, “And you don't see me dropping my pants every two minutes to get off. Some of us don't have the privilege of such free time.” He slapped your pussy once more, harsher than the last. “We have to work. We have things to do,” he gave another slap, “You should be more aware of that.”

“Yunho,” you whined, “Stop. It hurts.” 

If it truly did hurt, you would've forced him off you with your vines or sic your pet on him. Yunho knew you did want it. You'd been wanting it all morning. 

“It's supposed to hurt,” he said, rubbing your stinging center soothingly. “It's a punishment. I mean a real one, not what Master Hongjoong does. You're not going to get any dick from me. Only good sluts get my dick in them.”

“But I'm your-”

“-Right now, you're a bratty bitch who needs to learn her lesson,” he smacked your pussy again. 

He then roughly rolled you over onto your front, and lifted your ass into the air. Your soft giggle and surprised yelp told him you wanted this. If he truly sensed you didn’t, he would stop. Even if he resented your social class, he’d never hurt you on purpose. 

His large hand holding your wrists behind your back, he began landing hard spanks to your buttocks. Your cries sent blood pumping to his cock. They were the pathetic, childish whines that spankings produced; you wriggled around in every spank, but did not do much to escape him. Yunho grew harder seeing your cheeks move to the quick, hard hits. The feeling of his fingers hitting it felt good. The movement gave him that power he desperately wanted over you. He knew you'd be positively wet when he finished, begging to be touched at the very least. He wouldn't give into you.

“I'm not your boyfriends,” he said. “I won't fuck you just because you want it. You have to earn that with me.” 

The room became louder with the sounds of your painful cries and his hand meeting your ass. Touching it with the back of his hand, he felt the tender heat coming off them. Hongjoong always kept his spankings short nowadays, honestly holding back more than he did with regular maids. Yunho wasn't like that. Everyone received the same punishment the same way. He smacked your ass and the backs of your thighs a bit longer before stopping. 

He slackened his grip and gazed over you. He saw you laying there breathless, and eyeing his bulge. You must think you’ll be getting him now, but he’d love to deny you that. Not even Linette received a single inch when she misbehaved with him. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, hand smoothing over your tender ass. 

“I’m telling Seonghwa,” you cried, sniffling softly. 

“I asked you a question: have you learned your lesson?”

“I’m your mistress. You’re supposed to do what I say.”

Yunho shrugged, “Clearly not.” 

His hand fell down faster, swatting each cheek until you were wriggling away from him. Whenever you drew too far up the couch, he dragged you back down. Seeing your wet panties, he pushed your legs apart and started slapping it again. This caused you to jump, quaking from the lighter smacks he put to it. 

“Now?” he asked, rubbing your swollen sex and feeling it throb on his finger tips. 

“It’s not fair,” you sobbed into the cushions. 

“It sounds more than fair to me,” he replied, “Maybe I should do it in a way that you’d understand.”

Tugging off his tie, he bound your wrists together with an intricate knot. “Stay still,” he said, giving your thigh a smack when you shimmied away from him. He withdrew his cock from his pants, feeling it pulsate in his hand, and pressed it to your flimsy underwear. “If you even try to cum, I’m stopping,” he warned, softly groaning at your swollen lips against his tip. “This is for me to enjoy, not you.”

“You’re supposed to do what I say. I want you to fuck me.”

“And you’re supposed to stay still,” he spanked you once more, “Or I leave and give my cock to somebody else.” 

“It’s mine!”

“No, it’s not.” 

He rolled his tip around your clit, tapping it lightly and tracing it. You quaked under him, and he heard your frustration. It didn’t bother him at all. 

“Your masters are going to punish you,” you cried, sobbing when he smacked your ass once more. “Really, really, bad, for what you’re doing to me.”

“Psh, are you kidding me?” he chuckled, enjoying the light feeling of your panties on his cock. “They’d probably stay and watch. You asked for this.”

You kicked your feet, nearly escaping him before he maneuvered you to have your legs together. This folded you in half, him straddling your legs to keep you in place. He continued teasing you through your underwear, wetting his cock in the process. He’ll admit, he was tempted to stick himself inside you, but he knew better. That’d be giving you what you want, and you wouldn’t get that here. Once they were wet enough, Yunho pushed his tip into your hole. They only let him go an inch or so inside, but that was enough to please him. 

“Yunho!” you cried, “Please put it in.”

“Not until you’ve learned your lesson.”

“You have to do it.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” 

When you tried pushing back into him, he stopped. “What did I tell you?” he slapped the side of your thigh. “Huh? What did I say about staying still?”

“Keep going!”

“What did I say, bitch?” he asked more harshly, “Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Seonghwa!” you called out, and that only made him harder. “Yunho’s being-”

“-Your boyfriend isn’t going to help you,” he said. As much as he didn’t want to, he pulled away from you. “If you’re going to keep being bad, you’re not getting anything now.”

“No!”

“I told you what would happen, and you continued to be disobedient. There’s consequences to bad behavior.”

“San! San, help!”

“Keep calling him, nothing’s going to happen.” He got off the couch, “Maybe I should leave you here to think about your behavior. I’ll come back when you’ve understood it better.”

“Hongjoong will punish you for me. You’ll see,” you spat back, still playing with him, “He’ll whip you for doing this to me.”

“You talk too much,” he sighed irritably, grabbing his handkerchief. He roughly stuffed it into your mouth, “You should learn to keep your mouth shut. Good girls speak when they’re spoken to. Now,” he began putting himself back in his pants, “I’ll be back after lunch. We can continue this then.” 

Right as he planned to leave, someone else walked in. Linette, holding your snack tray, stood in slight shock as she spotted you on the couch. She took in your puffy eyes and guessed what might have happened. 

“Yunho,” she said, her eyes wide, “What are you doing?”

“Mistress YN has been a brat. I’m simply correcting that behavior.”

“You could get into real trouble for this. Mistress, are you okay?” She put her tray down and walked over to you, removing the handkerchief. “I promise Yunho isn’t like this really. He normally asks first or knows if you want it. Please, don’t feed him to Minnie or send him to the greenhouse. He’s been going through a lot lately, and-”

“-Linette, it’s okay,” you sniffled, giggling. “Really.”

“It is?” she asked. “I…Um, okay…Well, let me untie you. Your lunch is-Yunho! What are you doing?”

He sometimes loved his strength. Lifting her from the floor, Yunho placed Linette on the coffee table next to the chaise. On her back, he had full access to her body. The arousal she’d likely been feeling all day flared up at the touch of his hands. His dick hardened even more once her tits were in his hands. 

“What are you doing?” she asked again, laughing softly at his eagerness. 

“I’m going to show our mistress what good girls get,” he said, kissing her neck. 

“Yunho!” Linette giggled, but doing nothing to stop him as he tore at the buttons of her dress.

Soon, he saw the white bra covering her soft breasts. He roughly tugged it down to start sucking and licking her dark nipples. The smooth skin slowly tightened at his tongue, which he moved along with slow swirls. Yunho glanced over to see you watching with a frown, biting your lower lip as the sight kept you going. It felt good. For once, a high born wanted something from him and not the other way around. He kissed further down Linette’s body, feeling her soft stomach and thighs to discover her bare sex inches from his face. 

“No panties,” he growled, kissing her inner thighs as he knelt at the other end. “Such a good girl.” 

“I wanted to make it easier for you,” she said, her back arching when he licked at her clit. “I’ve been wanting your dick in me all morning.” 

“So has your mistress,” he kissed the spot of essence coming out of her. “She’s been teasing me since I woke her up today.” He looked over at you, “Good girls don’t tease. Only bratty girls do, isn’t that right, Linnie?” he went back to licking her folds as she answered. 

“Yes, sir,” she moaned, propping up on her elbows to watch him eat her out. 

“I’m telling my boyfriends what you’re doing,” you said, pouting. “Then they’ll tell you that you have to fuck me.”

“That’ll only be after they’ve each had their turn,” he replied, enjoying Linette’s sweet taste. He chuckled when she squirmed at his rapid flicking. He held her in place as he continued, licking her in swift circles. “Linette never gives me sloppy seconds,” he said, “Not even with Mingi. She lets me have the first round, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” she whimpered, biting her lower lip. “I always fuck you first, sir. I love your cock so much. Please, can I have it now? I’ve been a good girl.” 

“You always are.”

He stood up, pushing her legs far apart and plunged into her. Yunho gazed over at you, and saw you become breathless. In your position, you couldn’t do anything to stimulate your pussy. You could only watch and imagine it being you. Yunho lifted Linette’s legs so you saw his thickness stretching her out. It reminded him of the first time he saw you with someone. It had been with San in his apartment, where he took you on the dining table. Yunho knew then he’d do anything to have you wrapped around him, but you’d belonged to his masters, so you were therefore unattainable. 

Then he looked down at Linette. Panting and whining, she played with her breasts while he thrusted. While sex with you was fueled by your kisses and touches, Linette’s was natural and meaningful. He bent down to capture her lips, opening them to brush on her tongue. His arousal burned deep inside him the longer her walls dragged along his length. She felt so good. You felt equally good. Were it not your punishment, the three of you would be on the couch together. 

“I need you,” he whispered to her, kissing her neck and kneading her tits. “So badly.”

She started pushing down to meet his hips. He stayed still as she tightened her pussy and easily milked him. Euphoria pumped through him like a drug. He started pumping Linette faster, relishing in the sounds she made as he angled himself to hit her g-spot repeatedly. 

“Turn me around,” Linette pleaded, legs resting on his shoulders. “I love it when you fuck me from behind. You go so much deeper that way.”

When Linette guided him back inside, he grabbed her full, round cheeks. She cried out at the sharp smack he gave, and she knew what to do. Hands flat on the table, legs spread apart, she stayed still as he continued his steady pace. He turned to see you watching, slightly squirming as your arousal continued. 

“You see, YN,” he said, “This is what good girls get to have.” He made long, slow strokes that made Linette claw at the table, “They get to have every inch of my dick inside them. No teasing. No edging. Just each inch and every drop of cum I can give them. Doesn’t that sound nice?” He chuckled when you nodded, “So, you'll behave from now on?”

You nodded again. He noticed something crawling in the corner of his eye, and he instantly stopped. “That thing is not fucking you,” he said firmly, despite the Linette’s whining. 

Minnie had slunk to your couch, likely smelling your juices, and wanting to feed from you. It had already made its way up one leg to your center, wriggling a tendril at it. You shivered as the creature’s vines tore off your panties with ease. 

“Minnie, no,” you kicked at it, “Bad girl. No feeding.”

Minnie growled, angry at being denied, but persisted. She strapped herself to your thighs, then slithered a tentacle over your cunt. In your compromised state, you couldn’t reach to rip her from you, so Yunho did it. The beast hissed and tried biting his arm, but he tossed it away before it could do anything else. 

“That’s the first good thing you’ve done since I walked in here,” he said, still pumping into Linette. “Maybe you are learning.” 

“See? I can be good too,” you whimpered. “Can I have it now?”

“Not yet,” he said. He looked down at Linette, “Linnie hasn’t finished yet.” He grabbed both her arms to hold behind her, effectively bouncing her on his cock, “Such a sweet girl,” he grunted, mesmerized by the sight of her ass meeting his hips, “A sweet girl with an even sweeter pussy.” 

“And it’s all yours!”

“All mine?”

“Yes!”

“Good. As it should be.” 

“Please, Yunho,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on. I won’t tease you anymore. I’ll give you my pussy only when you ask. I’ll do whatever you want. Just come fuck my tight, wet pussy, please.” 

“But, I have Linette right here,” he said, slamming into her to prove his point. “And her pussy is the best I’ve ever had.” 

“But mine is good too,” you shook your hips for him to see your glistening sex, “Even if it’s just the tip again. I want it so bad.” 

“Stop whining. You’ll get your turn.” He continued pumping into Linette, watching her ass ripple whenever his hips hit hers. “Linnie was good first. So, she gets it first.” 

“Sir, can I cum, please?” she asked through her whimpering.  

“I don’t know, can you?”

She grunted, almost laughing, “May I cum, sir?” she corrected herself. 

“You may.” 

He loved hearing her orgasms. He drowned you out for a moment to savor the loud moans she released. Her warm cum thickly coated his cock, the tightness clenched as it sucked him into her. Yunho held her to him closely, his fingers working her clit until she finished. After a few more pumps, Yunho went back over to you. With your panties in shreds, he had no trouble plunging inside you. He showed no tenderness with you. If you didn’t moan loud enough, he smacked your ass until he heard you cry again. If you whined or pleaded, he stopped. 

“Do you promise to be a good girl from now on?” he asked you, lifting your head from the couch by your hair. 

“Yes,” you sobbed. 

“Yes?” He started being rougher, tightening his grip and pounding faster. 

“Yes, sir! Yes, yes, yes, sir!”

“That’s a good whore,” he smiled, changing his angle when he heard you getting closer. “That’s it. Make me cum,” he forced your head back onto the bed, “Tighten that hole and milk my cock…There you go. See? That’s not hard, right? You can be good when you really try.” 

He kept going, the sensitivity working through his entire length, and he looked over at Linette. She’d remained on the coffee table, on her back with her legs spread. Yunho’s jaw dropped seeing her so exposed, biting her lower lip and teasing her nipples. This offering couldn’t be ignored. Once he felt your orgasm approaching, he pushed deeper. 

“I know you’re not cumming before me,” he growled, slowing his pace. “Good girls don’t cum without permission. I thought Master Hongjoong might’ve taught you that.” 

“I ca-an’t help it,” you cried, “It feels so good.”

“Then you better learn how to help it,” he said, going back to his previous pace. “Because you’re not getting a drop of cum if you do. You want my cum, don’t you? I know you love cum.”

“I do, but…oh my god, fuck, that feels…”

“Don’t do it,” he warned, but not slowing down. “Don’t you dare…”

“Fuck, I’m so close! I can’t stop it! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

Thighs shaking, fingers gripping the tie around your wrists, you couldn’t stop the waves coming over you. Yunho felt your sex tightening, milking him as he pumped in and out of you. His cock became coated in you, the movement making your juices thicker and whiter, and he thought he might cum from seeing it. Yet, he kept himself in check as you finished shuddering. In a few final twitches, you slumped against the back of the chaise and took deep breaths. 

“Yunho,” you breathed when he pulled out, “Cum in me.”

“Good girls don’t get my cum…” 

Linette came over to him when he sat on the edge of the couch. She didn’t need to be told what to do. Mouth on his tip, she sucked and licked while stroking his length with both hands. The twisting motions combined with her lips brought him to climax in seconds. She moaned at the thick streams filling her mouth, slurping and swallowing them greedily. Linette never left a single drop behind. Yunho’s hands curled around the edge of the couch, his knuckles turning white as his body tensed. Her mouth and hands elongated the sensitivity coursing through his shaft and tip; he groaned through his teeth, jaw clenching and hips thrusting up into her. When he finished, he took in how beautiful she looked. 

“Show me,” he said, and grinned when she opened to show her empty mouth. “Good girl.” 

Gently, he untied you and let you uncurl from your position. He took you to the bed where he rubbed your stiff muscles and bottom with a healing salve he kept on hand. As he smoothed the aloe-concentrated paste on you, he muttered sweet praises and soft kisses to soothe you. You gradually fell asleep in his arms after being stuffed by your snack tray. Finally leaving you to rest, Linette cornered him outside the bedroom. 

“I really enjoyed that,” she whispered, arms going around his torso, “I think I like hard Yunho. He makes me a bit scared and extremely horny.” 

“Does he now?” he smirked, holding and kissing her softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A thought came to him, “Let’s go to my room. I’m exhausted.”

“What about lunch service?”

“Cook will manage it for me,” he took her hand in his. Going to a large portrait in the corner, he revealed the secret passage behind it. “I just want to be with you right now.” 

Her smile made his heart flutter and he kissed her again. An afternoon wrapped in his favorite person sounded so much nicer than tending to a bunch of high borns. 

They could make do without him. 

****

A/N: Aaaaand it's back! Sort of haha I really like Yunho and Linette, so I hope you guys do too. Feel free to reblog and like <3

[hamiltonfc]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆ MOTH TO A FLAME; JUDE BELLINGHAM (Chapter Two)

➤ Summary: Surprisingly, Jude and Noah seem to be getting on well, until Noah does something to get in Kaia's bad book.

➤ Pairing: Jude Bellingham x F!OC

➤ Warnings: Swearing, Food mention.

➤ Discussion tag: #my works: moth to a flame (if you ever have any questions about the story, release schedule, etc. my inbox is always open.)

➤ Word Count: 3,171

TAGLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Kaia’s POV

“And this is Jude. My best friend.” Silence hangs in the air for a short while after the introductions. My stomach is tied in a knot while I watch Jude take in my new boyfriend. If it were a stranger perceiving Jude, they’d probably say he’s happy to meet him and that he’s happy for his friend. But I’m not a stranger. His body language, the slight strain in his jaw from the way he’s gritting his teeth and the way his eyes quickly flash to mine tells me everything I need to know.

Jude extends his hand in Noah’s direction. “Hey,” he says while Noah’s hand also leaves the side of his body, grasping Jude’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Noah says, quieter than how Jude said it, nerves an obvious thing he’s feeling. The last time Noah came over, and met my family, I knew he had been really nervous, and rightly so because he knows how much my family means to me. But, when it comes to Jude, I had spoken about him so much, about how we had known each other our whole lives, grown up together. Noah knew that Jude meant just as much to me as my family did. However, there was something else about Jude that didn’t threaten Noah, I don’t think (it had threatened other guys in the past), but there was the small fact of Jude being the man in my life. Jude was Noah’s competition, even though I’d told him he had nothing to worry about in the romantic department, and he believed me, Jude’s status in my life was something for Noah, or any other person who wanted to be with me forever, to reach for.

“Oh, hi, Noah,” my mum walks into the room, carrying two plates of food. “Right, these two are for you,” she nods her head at me and Noah so I promptly take my seat across from Jude, as Noah moves to sit right beside me. “Jude, William will be in in a second with your dinner. He’s currently making sure you both get a couple of extra Yorkshire puddings,” Mum flashes Jude a smile. If there was one thing my dad and Jude had in common it was how much they loved my mum’s Yorkshire puddings. Actually, I’m convinced they are the reason my dad decided to marry my mum in the first place. 

“You know me so well,” Jude says and it’s then that I see Jude’s first genuine smile since Noah walked through the door. But it’s no surprise because Jude has always been like another son to my mum, he always has a smile for her.

****

 “So, Jude,” Dad says when we’re all finally seated and eating. “Are you enjoying it in Madrid?”

“Yeah,” Jude brings his hand up to cover his mouth, pausing his speech while he finishes his food. “It’s great, barely any rain, and the football’s obviously amazing.”

“You know,” it’s my turn to speak now. “These two,” I wave my fork between my parents. “Literally never shut up talking about you. “Like God, forbid we ever see someone we know when they’re out in town because they’ll get a good old rant about how well you’re doing and how proud they are of you. No, but, honestly, I’m starting to think they’re prouder of you than they are of me,” I let out a laugh, everything I said in jest.

“Oh, don’t be silly. But, of course, we’re proud of you, Jude, you know you’re a part of this family,” Mum says. It had always been inevitable that Jude would be part of our family. My mum had been best friends with Jude’s mum, Denise, for years before they even considered having children. So when they did eventually have kids, they became like bonus children for both of them. 

I felt, though, when Mum mentioned that Jude was a part of our family, an awkwardness coming from beside me in Noah’s chair. And although I knew Jude appreciated the comment, and knew that he loved my family just as much as they loved him, I could also tell that he was sensing the same thing I was when I caught his eye.

“So, uhm, Noah,” Jude said, clearing his throat, right before taking a sip of his drink, his attention shifting to the man next to you. “How long are you in England for?”

“Oh, erm, I fly back tomorrow,” Noah nodded, shooting a tight-lipped smile Jude’s way. 

Jude nods. “So, did you like working with our Kai, then?”

“Kai?” Noah furrows his brow, turning towards me and tilting his head to the side in question.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “He’s always been the only one to call me that.” I shrug. My whole life everyone had just opted to use my full name, apart from Jude, who had insisted on calling me Kai pretty much since the moment he could talk. “It annoys me when anyone else calls me that.”

“Oh,” Noah squints his eyes, puzzled, but turns back to just nonetheless. “But to answer your question, Jude, it was great working with her.” 

“Look at that,” Jude points a Noah, but shifts his gaze back to me. “You come with rave reviews and everything.”

I laugh, but Noah’s the one to speak. “I feel like everything I saw about her before we worked together was a rave review, you don’t get called one of the best actors of our generation without doing anything great, do you?”

“Well, I could give her a few reviews just based on her personality, and, let me tell you, not many of them are that great,” Jude smirks are you, bringing his arms up to his chest when I reach over the table to smack him. 

“Oi, watch it,” I can’t help but smile at the pair of them as I slump back in my chair. Watching the two of them interact settled my nerves a little. It was almost a given that anyone I invited into my life had to like Jude. Whether it was a boyfriend or a new friend, my loyalty would always be to Jude over anyone, probably until the day that I got married, so it was better to just make sure that they liked him. Why would I want to know someone who disliked my best friend, someone I’d loved my whole life, anyway?

While Jude and Noah got to talking about everything acting and Jude’s football career, I chose to speak to my parents about my next job, which was starting in February, and my summer plans that would follow. Jude overheard the last part of my conversation, “Are you coming to the Euros? You’ll have wrapped by then, yeah?”

This year’s Euros would be Jude’s third international tournament, and seeing as though I had proudly supported him at the last two, I didn’t see why I wouldn’t be going to this one, too. 

“Well, that depends,” I placed my knife and fork together on my plate, signifying that I was done. “Are you going to get me free tickets?” I raise my eyebrows at him. 

“I’ve already added your name to the family and friends list for tickets, don’t you worry,” Jude tried to wink at me but instead ended up doing a confused blink, to which I let out a giggle. “I can also get tickets for you four as well,” Jude nods towards the rest of my family. “You won’t be in the friends and family section, but I can see what I can do.”

“Thank you for the offer, Jude, darling, but me and Will won’t be able to get any time off work, and these two will still be in school. But we’ll be cheering you on from our living room, there’s no doubt about that. And depending on how well we’re doing, we might book some time off for the final, just in case,” Mum winks at him before pressing a kiss to his temple after she’s gotten up to collect everyone’s plates. 

“Don’t listen to her, Jude,” Olivia spoke for the first time since we sat at the table. “I want a ticket to every game, and I mean every single game. I’d do anything to miss a month of school.”

“Don’t be silly, Olivia, you’ve got your GCSEs,” Dad looks up from his phone where he’s most likely scrolling through Twitter looking at Sky Sports News or something in that vein.

“That’s exactly why I want to go, Dad. So Jude, can you get me tickets?” She turns her body fully towards him, exaggeratedly fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

“You know, Liv, as much as I’d like you there, you really should listen to your dad. Even I had to do my GCSEs,” Jude tells her. 

Olivia scoffs, stands from her chair, and in doing so nearly knocks the thing over.  “God, why’s it only Kaia that ever gets to do fun things?”

She’s halfway up to her room before I get to properly reply but it doesn’t stop me from calling her a sore loser. “Perks of being your biggest fan, I guess,” I shrug at Jude, a small smirk on my lips. “Oh, hey, speaking of the Euros, it completely slipped my mind that you’re working in Germany at the same time, aren’t you, Noah?” I turn to look at him. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m shooting that show in Berlin,” Noah nods. 

“So you’ll be able to go to a few games, then?” My dad looks up from his phone, dragged out of his trance and into the conversation. 

“Maybe,” Noah says. “Not sure how much free time I’ll have, but hopefully I’ll be able to get to a couple.”

“If Kaia has anything to do with it, you’ll be going to every single one that’s played in Berlin,” Noah laughs, nodding as he admits defeat, knowing my father is very much correct. It’s a habit of mine to drag people to football matches, even if they’re not the slightest bit interested. 

While my dad and Noah talk some more about his job in Berlin, I notice Jude shuffling around in his seat out of the corner of my eye. I could just take it as him being uncomfortable after being sat down for almost an hour, but the way he’s looking at my dad and Noah through his lashes, his chin practically against his chest, tells me otherwise. 

“Right, why don’t you kids go hang out upstairs or something while I help clean up this mess?” Dad moves to grab the remaining glasses that are left on the table while Jude, Noah and I get up to go upstairs. 

When in my bedroom, Jude immediately goes to sit at my desk, and I can tell that he’s preparing himself for a potentially awkward situation. His hand rests on the wooden surface, tapping away and I know it’s only a matter of time before he pulls a pen out of the pot so he can fiddle with it. 

I go to flop on my bed, grabbing my childhood teddy that I bring up to rest on my chest. Noah claims his spot beside me, in a much more graceful manner. 

“So,” I say, breaking the silence before it could take over the room. “You wanna watch a film or something?” I look between the two guys in my room, a questioning look on my face.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Jude says. “How about w-”

“Stop right there,” I say, sitting up abruptly. “Before you even ask, no I’m not sitting through Pulp Fiction again. Like yeah, Uma Thurman’s hot as fuck, but she’s also only in it for like ten minutes, so what’s the point?”

“Whoah, I wasn’t even about to say that, dickhead,” Jude annoyingly shakes his head at me while he tosses a rubber in my direction, narrowly missing my head. “I was actually going to suggest that Noah picked what we watched, so, you know, it could save the arguing, and then you started yelling at me anyway.” 

“Oh, okay, good idea,” I turn towards Noah. “Is there anything you’d like to watch, Noah?”

“Hmm, that’s a hard choice,” Noah says, a deep-thinking expression on his face. “I think I’d like to watch Pulp Fiction.”

Jude burst out laughing and I feel my face drop in agony at the thought of watching it again. I’m genuinely about two seconds away from punching my boyfriend right across the face.

“Oh, Kai, you should see your face. Nice one, Noah,” Jude’s holding his stomach at this point. 

“What?” Noah says when Jude calms himself down. “I’ve never seen it.”

That’s the moment both Jude and I stop what we’re doing, turning to face Noah with, what I can only imagine are, the most shocked expressions the two of us could muster. 

I let out a laugh of disbelief before finding the words. “You what?”

“Did I hear you right?” Jude pipes up as well. 

I’ve never seen Pulp Fiction,” Noah repeats, causing me to lay back down, simply staring at the ceiling while I try and get over my shock. 

“An actor who’s never seen Pulp Fiction, well I never.” I raise a finger in the air when I’ve had about ten seconds to process the mindblowing news. “You know what I think we have to do, Jude?” I sit up on my elbows so I can look at him properly. “Pop his Pulp Fiction cherry.”

Jude nods as soon as the suggestion leaves my mouth. “It’s only right.”

“Pulp Fiction it is then,” I’m just about to get up from my bed to grab the DVD, when the door of my bedroom bursts open, with a boisterous seven-year-old on the other side.

Leo immediately rushes over to the side of the bed Noah is at. “Hi, Noah, would you like to come and play Roblox with me?”

The look on Leo’s face is adorable. His big, brown eyes look at my boyfriend with so much adoration, even though he’s only met him once before. But Noah doesn’t seem to like Leo as much as the young boy likes him. 

“Oh, I- uhm,” Noah, fidgets, barely making eye contact with him, while I watch on with furrowed brows. “I don’t know how.”

“Well, that’s fine, I can teach you,” Leo bounces in excitement on the balls of his feet. There’s nothing in the world that makes him happier than when he’s playing Roblox.

“Well, I don’t really want to,” Noah says bluntly, leading to Leo’s face dropping, a little pout forming on his lips. 

“Oh, okay,” Leo says sadly and I can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s getting choked up. 

He’s about the leave the room when Jude stands up and walks over to him. Getting on one knee in front of him, he places his hands on the small boy’s shoulders. “Hey, I’ll come and play with you, yeah? we can play that one we were playing last time that you kept beating me at.” Jude picks Leo up, throwing him over his shoulder, causing him to giggle louder than ever. It’s a giggle that can be heard all the way down the hall until they get to Leo’s bedroom. 

My room is silent for a while, allowing me quite a bit of time to think about what I just witnessed. The only thing I can think about, though, is that I didn’t say or do anything while Leo was in the room with me. I should’ve done something to make sure he didn’t get upset, not even a little bit. 

After a little more time, I say, “What the fuck was that?” I turn to Noah, who has barely moved since Jude and Leo left the room. 

“I don’t know, he says, eyes failing to meet mine. 

“That’s not good enough, Noah, you almost made him cry because you didn’t want to play with him. He’d be really upset if it wasn’t for Jude being here,” I let out a sigh. It was bad enough thinking about seeing either of my siblings upset but seeing Leo’s face for that short moment that he thought no one wanted to play with him was heartbreaking. 

“I’m not good with kids, okay?” I have no idea what to do with them,” Noah says, raising his voice a little.

“Then just let him down easily, then, there was no need to be rude. He’s seven, Noah. He only wanted to play with you, you’re never going to get good with kids if you’re never willing to spend even ten minutes with one,” I scowl at him, mad with him for what he did to my little brother. “You know, it’s probably better if we call it a night, I’m quite tired.”

Noah nods. “Okay,” he gets up from the bed. “I’ll see you after Christmas, I suppose,” he leans down to press a kiss to my lips, which I accept, kissing back gently, but he knows that I’m still pissed off at him and that I’m probably going to be like that for a while longer. I shift my body to get off the bed. “It’s fine, I’ll let myself out.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Night. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” he says, closing the door behind him on his way out. 

I fall back onto the bed, once again finding peace against my duvet, a sigh falling from my lips being the last thing I remember before I slip into a deep sleep. 

****

Jude: You okay Sleeping Beauty?

Kaia: God when did I fall asleep? Kaia: Also why are you still up? It’s 3am.

Jude: About 7:30ish. Jude: And I’m not tired but I also wanted to make sure you were okay.

Kaia: I’m doing fine. Kaia: Just shocked me a little that’s all. Kaia: Was Leo okay when you were playing with him?

Jude: Yeah but he did ask why Noah didn’t want to play with him so I just told him that he knew I wanted to play with him instead. Jude: But what he did was really fucked up.

Kaia: I know. Kaia: I'm glad he’s not really upset about it though. Kaia: And thank you for saying what you did. I think I’m still going to take him out for ice cream or something tomorrow tho just to make sure he’s okay.

Jude: No problem and yeah that’ll be good for him. Jude: So did he just leave?

Kaia: no I said it’d probably be best if we called it a night. Kaia: I made it clear that I was pissed at him so that’s why I think he was so fine with leaving early.

Jude: You did the right thing he can’t talk to a kid like that without knowing that he did was wrong. Jude: Anyway I’m off to bed. See you on Christmas day. x

Kaia: Yep, goodnight. x

Taglist: @eunoiasgoal @4evermyownmuse

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[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Private Lessons

Rating: Teen and up Audiences

Warning: party theme...

Paring: Chris Sturniolo x !dancer reader

Fandom: Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: being a dancer has it's perks...

Credits to @muwapsturniolo and our dancing convo!

Madison always threw the best parties. She had this way of making everyone feel like a VIP, even if it was just a random Friday night at her house.

The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the energy in the room was electric. As one of her backup dancers, I was used to letting loose when we weren’t on stage. So when Sexyy Redd’s “SkeeYee” blasted through the speakers, my body moved instinctively.

I danced with the girls at first, laughing as we hyped each other up, our movements sharp and effortless from muscle memory. But then—just as I dropped low, rolling my hips to the beat—I felt someone behind me.

Chris.

I didn’t have to turn around to know. I could feel his presence, the way his hands hovered just close enough to make my skin tingle. He matched my movements seamlessly, his chest almost brushing my back.

Okay, so he could dance.

I smirked, pressing back just enough to test him.

Chris didn’t back down. Instead, his lips brushed my ear, voice low and teasing.

"Damn… I might need some private lessons."

I bit my lip, glancing over my shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but those blue eyes held something dangerous.

"Think you can keep up?" I shot back.

Chris just grinned. "Guess I’ll have to find out."

I nearly forgot about it. People say things at parties all the time. I didn’t expect him to follow through.

But then I checked my work schedule, and there it was:

New Private Lesson Booking: Chris Sturniolo.

This man actually signed up for a private dance lesson.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I texted Madison.

Me: "Your boy's brother really just booked a private dance lesson. What do I even do with him??"

Madison: "LMAO don’t play, he’s lowkey smooth. Have fun with that 😭"

I wasn’t gonna lie—I was intrigued.

Chris showed up wearing sweats, a loose hoodie, and that cocky little smirk that made my job a thousand times harder.

"You came prepared," I teased, arms crossed.

"Of course." He leaned against the mirror, tilting his head. "Gotta impress my instructor, right?"

I rolled my eyes, motioning for him to stand in front of me. "Alright, let’s see what we’re working with."

Chris mirrored my stance, waiting for direction. I stepped closer, placing my hands on his shoulders to adjust him.

"Relax," I murmured.

"You’re tellin’ me to relax?" He chuckled, shifting his weight. "Kinda hard when you’re all up in my space like this."

I smirked. "You did ask for private lessons."

"Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be this hands-on." His voice dropped slightly, teasing, but there was an edge to it.

I raised a brow. "You scared, Sturniolo?"

Chris scoffed. "Nah. Just wondering how long it’ll take before you admit you like me touching you."

Oh.

My stomach flipped, but I refused to let him win that easily.

"Focus," I said, stepping back before he could see the effect he had on me. "We’re starting with basics."

For the next hour, I walked him through body rolls, footwork, and rhythm control. He wasn’t bad—actually, he picked things up pretty fast.

Every now and then, though, he’d find a way to get under my skin.

"Am I doing this right?" he asked at one point, purposefully messing up just so I’d correct him.

I sighed, stepping behind him. "No, your stance is too stiff. Here—" I placed my hands on his waist, guiding his movements.

Chris turned his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper. "You sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to touch me?"

I huffed a laugh. "You’re so annoying."

"You love it."

I didn’t answer.

Because, unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

Chris stretched his arms, rolling out his shoulders. "Not bad for a first-timer, huh?"

"You did alright," I admitted, trying to sound unimpressed.

He smirked. "You gonna reward me for my hard work?"

I raised a brow. "And what exactly do you want as a reward?"

Chris stepped closer, tilting his head. "Dunno. Maybe another dance?" His voice dropped. "Or… you could just admit you like having me around."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "If I admit it, will you shut up?"

"Probably not," he said, grinning. "But I’d love to hear you say it anyway."

I sighed, crossing my arms. "Fine. You’re not the worst student I’ve ever had."

Chris clutched his chest dramatically. "Wow. So heartfelt."

"Take it or leave it, Sturniolo."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I’m taking it. But don’t worry, instructor—this isn’t the last time you’ll see me."

Something told me he was right.

And for some reason… I didn’t mind one bit.

---

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-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️