#the only food that’s tolerable is the fruit at lunch and even that’s hard to enjoy bc i’ve had to eat before that

[razorbladesandblackholes]

really really want coffee but. calories. >:(

[yinlikesbooksandtea]

A green flag man - Nanami Kento

• Nanami Kento, the epitome of chivalry. Everyone wants him and if not they want to be him.

• The best boyfriend god could make.

• Carries your shopping bags, pays your meals, kneels down to talk to you if you're feeling unwell, buys you flowers on a random Tuesday just because, takes you out on lovely planned dates.

• Acts of services are his love language. Likes ironing your clothes with his. Makes you a sandwich as well when he makes his own. Knowing you'll ask for a bite and end up wanting more.

• Food is another one of his love language. Kento's actually a foodie so often times he makes you dishes and packs you lunch. Peels a little fruit platter for you when he realizes you haven't eaten enough fiber that day.

• Quality time is another love language of his that he never realizes. Cherishes when you're in his arms in the morning while you're asleep. A soft smile on his face while he presses gentle kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

• Instinctively open doors for you like second nature. Slows down his pace when you walk together. He puts his hand on the edges of the table so you don't hit your head when you pick up something.

• Likes holding your hand whenever you go anywhere together. It's either that or he has an arm around your waist.

• Likes taking pictures of you and he has a picture of the two of you as his wallpaper.

• Has an alarm set to wake up before he actually has to go to work so you two can cuddle in the morning.

• Even when you fight he has never raised his voice at you. Absolutely hates it when you two have arguments. Will never take his anger out on you.

• Anytime someone hits on him he firmly rejects them. Telling everyone he has a significant other. Will not even tolerate toying around the idea of another person in your relationship. Never even thinks of it.

Is he actually that much of a green flag?

• You'll never realize it but you slowly become spoiled by him. It's weird but when he's not here to open a jam jar for you. You'll pause for a moment before you realize you can open it yourself.

• Have you never realized how fast your relationship is progressing? You've only been dating him for 6 months and you've already moved in together.

• When you joke about it his eyebrows knit together for a moment before he changes the topic. Squeezing your hand gently and reminding you how long you've been friends before dating.

• He's always been intimidating. Even more so in bed, his rough hands on your hips while he's thrusting into you.

• The first time the two of you slept together. There was almost a crazed look on his face when he kissed your thighs. His eyes practically rolled back when he finally had a taste of you.

• Doesn't mean to hurt you but his grip is too tight that he can't help it. He actually really hates hurting you. Accidently getting too rough in bed and leaving bruises from how hard he pins you down. Sometimes bite marks leaving blood trailing down your skin.

• Kento's a jealous man. He doesn't say anything about it after all he doesn't want you to think he's insane. You have your own life and he has his but he can't help but want you near him all the time.

• Sometimes he can't but loathe your friends for hanging out with you the whole day and he's left only having dinner and cuddles with you.

• He absolutely despises when you drink with anyone besides him. He absolutely hates it if you even stay out late with anyone other then him. He can't tell which one he hates more. You getting drunk or getting drunk around other men.

• Even when you're just helping someone. He'll low-key be mad that you decided to help them. Especially if it's a man.

• Something a little funny he does is he sprays his cologne on your items to remind you of him when you go out with others.

• What he dislikes most is when he calls and you don't pick up the phone. He's a busy man and he wants to make sure your safe so he calls during your lunch breaks to check on you. Even if your phone died, he gets annoyed.

• Gifts you jewelry that has tracking devices on them. Afterwards he secretly installs a tracking device on your phone.

• He's not the type to yell when he's mad. He's the type to give silent treatment. It'll end up either with you sitting in his lap trying to butter him up or most likely you on his cock whimpering apologies.

• Sometimes he dislikes this part of himself. That he's so jealous and overprotective. He just wants you to himself all the time, it's unhealthy and he knows that.

• Kento always apologizes though, making you breakfast and holding you in his lap while you two watch tv and cuddle together.

• A little part of him gets turned on seeing the hickeys he leaves on you. He can't help but kiss them when he see's them.

• You'll never realize it but it's actually been month since you last saw your friends or even texted them in fact. Kento may or may not been deleting their numbers behind your back.

• Someone you don't talk to anymore? Goodbye. Old classmate you recently started texting again? Their number changed. Best friend wanting to hang? Oh no they suddenly hate you.

• When that happens you'll be running into Kento's arms and he'll be comforting you. Telling you how they weren't good for you anyways. After all your dear boyfriend knows best.

• You're parents won't suspect a single thing either if you haven't contacted them in a while. Kento's a responsible man after all. They'll probably think you're just busy.

• Often times has unhinged thoughts of replacing your birth control with vitamins so he can get you pregnant and marry you. Definitely has fantasy's have making you his little housewife.

• Might actually do it someday.

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

Hello everyone I am back! Also I am going to disappear and appear again in a few months. Anyways have a nice day :D

[suzieb-fit]

Hmm, just when I was starting to think I'd finally "cracked it" with the mucus solution. Yesterday was a really settled day. Still there throughout the day, but at a low level and no major flare ups.

Then this morning? Yep. Boom.... Back as bad as ever.

Ugh. Maybe that's how the detox works? Gradually eases with the occasional bad flare up, but less and less frequently til they die off altogether. Or am I just being delusional, lol?

Anyway, I'm weight training this morning. Upper body.

Woke up pretty tired, so started a little later.

Breakfast outside on a very dull, drizzly Monday morning before anything else.

I am all about fueling my body properly.

No more fasting. This is more technically "time restricted eating". Finishing eating sfter an early dinner, giving my digestive system a good break before breakfast.

I might occasionally go longer, but I night also occasionally go no longer than 12hrs.

My current training focus needs good quality feeding.

I took my usual half an hour walk straight after.

Upper body strength today. I hit those weights pretty hard.

Ended with a tuck jump sprint interval. Wow, total game changer!

Lunch was chicken salad with grapes and fake cheese. Coconut based. Actually pretty nice.

I decided to do something different for my afternoon fitness bout. Got on the rowing machine. Actually hate rowing, lol. Just feels like I'm on there for weeks! I put my earphones in and listened to a podcast. Made it slightly more tolerable.

Fresh fruit, walnuts, mixed seeds, ground coconut and a splash of olive oil after that.

Time to chill, now.

Today was a double chicken day. Had some for dinner too! Had that with avocado and veggies. Fresh ginger, herbs and spices.

I decided on an extra snack. Grapes and macadamia nuts.

Training hard and heavy has sent my "refeed" brain into overdrive!

And I might even make a second serving of my breakfast recipe tonight. Add some frozen blueberries.

That will add upto a whole lot of food, but meh, I can definitely add a few pounds without any worries. I'm lower than my normal maintenance goal right now.

Breakfast will be later tomorrow, so I'll also still get at least that 12hr digestive rest. No commitment either way. I'll just see how I feel later.

I feel fantastic at the moment. Yes, this morning's bad flare up knocked me sideways, but it was only maybe a couple of hours out of an otherwise excellent day!

[ezcater]

Get the Scoop On 3 Ice Cream Flavors Worthy of Your Workplace

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Perk Up with Coffee Ice Cream

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However, just because this ice cream is coffee-flavored doesn’t mean you want to enjoy it hot. A reliable catering resource can help you make sure your ice cream arrives on time and stays cold throughout the journey. Even if your Texas-based workplace is looking for an ice cream shop that can withstand the summer heat, you can find the most reliable and timely catering Dallas has to offer, ensuring your order arrives on time and frosty.

Get Creative with Vanilla 

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Stay Inclusive with Strawberry Sorbet

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Some of your lactose-tolerant coworkers might actually prefer this refreshing alternative to ice cream, so be sure to get enough to share!

From birthdays to monthly meetings, a surprise serving of ice cream is sure to put a smile on everyone’s faces. While it’s hard to go wrong with ice cream, these three flavors will certainly satisfy everyone—from accounting to sales.

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Original Source: https://bit.ly/3Lig1OV 

[sigmaleph]

@serinemolecule asked me for hot takes on this 2006 article on Argentinian food, which I am now reorganising into a proper post for y'all's consumption. you're welcome.

First of all: the titular thesis that you should eat two steaks a day. I am forced to clarify that as 'should's go you should eat zero steaks a day, but this is ethical rather dietary advice and I don't follow it as well as I should, so, y'know. I would engage with this on the level it was stated, but I actually have no opinion on it. Moving on...

Argentine beef really is extraordinary. Almost all of this has to do with how the cows are raised. There are no factory feedlots in Argentina; the animals still eat pampas grass their whole lives, in open pasture, and not the chicken droppings and feathers mixed with corn that pass for animal feed in the United States.

This is, as it happens, completely false. There absolutely is plenty of feedlot beef being eaten in Argentina, and this was also the case back when this article was written. There's grass-fed beef too, and maybe the writer structured their life around only eating those, but the claim that there are no feedlots is just not true.

if you let them make the call, you get a two-inch thick of meat[...]The Argentine steak stands alone, towering three inches over the plate,[...]This gorgeous specimen is called a lomito; it's a standard lunchtime steak, clearly so thin that the Argentines are embarrassed to send it out into the world without a protective wrapping of ham and cheese

I have no idea what their obsession with steak thickness is; meat exists at various levels of thick and thin to suit various tastes. If you like yours thick that's fine but quit the projecting, y'know.

As you might expect, vegetarians will have a somewhat rough time here. For most people in Argentina, a vegetarian is something you eat. One's diet will accordingly lean heavily on pastas, gnocchi, salads, and (for the less squeamish ) fish. Vegans will not survive in Argentina.

This is, unfortunately, true (well, hyperbole, but). Rinna had a rather bad time trying to find vegan food when fae came over for visits. The situation is improving slowly, at least.

The homemade cookies bought in the minimarket downstairs taste of steak. [picture of alfajores de maicena[

Jesus. Find somewhere better to buy your snacks.

It should be no surprise that the land of beef also has excellent milk and butter. The milk comes in plastic bags that would give any American marketing department a heart attack. They proudly advertise "GUARANTEED 100% BRUCELLOSIS AND HOOF-AND-MOUTH FREE". One brand even brags that its bacteria count never exceeds 100,000 per mL, and prints daily statistics to prove it (only 82,000 bacteria/mL on Monday! mmm!).

Are you under the impression American milk doesn't contain bacteria and that when it spoils it's because of the molecules' sheer willpower? Or do you just object to the reminder that they exist?

This menu is delicious, but with rare exceptions it is all you are going to get. People coming for more than a few weeks are advised to bring a discreet bottle of Tabasco sauce.

Eat at better restaurants.

With any order from the master menu comes the Bread Basket, which should be treated as you would treat a basket of wax fruit, that is, as a purely decorative ornament. It is considered bad form to actually eat anything from Bread Basket

What are you talking about. Do all your dining companions just suck, eat some bread.

Dulce de leche is a culinary cry for help. It says "save us, we are baffled and alone in the kitchen, we don't know what to do for dessert and we're going to boil condensed milk and sugar together until help arrives". This cloying dessert tar is so impossibly sweet that you wish you were ten years old again, just so you could actually enjoy it. It is everywhere. There is a special dulce de leche shelf in the supermarket dairy case, and the containers go up to a liter in size. Even the churros are stuffed with it - the churros, Montresor!

It is rare that I feel insulted for the sake of my country, but this? How dare you.

Yes, of course we fill churros with dulce de leche; the real question is why anyone doesn't, short of dietary restrictions. Finding out that people do otherwise was like learning that in other countries, "sandwich" just means two slices of bread. Live a little. Eat a real godsdamned churro.

I spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out how meals work in Argentina, and they remain a mystery to me. Dinner is clear enough: people tend to go to restaurants beginning at ten o'clock (for those with small children), with the main rush around eleven, and dinner is pretty much over at one or so in the morning. And breakfast - or rather, its absence - follows as a logical consequence of eating a steak the size of a beagle at midnight. But I have yet to figure out whether people eat some kind of meal in the afternoon, and if so, when.

At... noon? Like. We eat lunch. Usually somewhere around 12:00. I am eating lunch right now, and I have done so essentially every day of my life. This is just baffling.

I've come to think the culprit in the missing Argentine lunch scene is yerba mate.

how.

Where the ignorant foreigner may see just another kind of herbal tea (yerba mate is a very unassuming shrub that grows in the northern parts of the country) the Argentine sees a taste treat of unimaginable subtlety, and a tonic for all his problems. The Wikipedia article on proper mate preparation should give you a warning of the level of obsessiveness attainable here (the Urugayans are even worse). To the virgin palate, mate tastes like green tea mixed with grass clippings. The beverage is traditionally drunk out of a little gourd, through a metal straw called a bombilla, with hot (but not boiling!!) water poured into it (without wetting the surface!! clockwise!!) from a thermos.

Yeah, this is accurate. Well, not the clockwise part, never heard anyone complain about that and I can't imagine it mattering.

What distinguishes mate from coffee and tea is the social context - two or more people share a gourd, with a designated pourer in charge of refilling it with hot water after each turn. The ritual is low-fuss but indispensible. You can buy mate gourds and thermoses in any grocery store, and get your thermos filled with hot water at any convenience store or gas station, but you will never see mate served in restaurants or sold in little disposable paper gourds, to go. it's not that people refuse to drink mate alone - anyone working a solitary shift will have a gourd in hand - but that the concept of being served mate by someone who does not share it with you seems impossible.

This is also true. Attempts have been made to sell to-go mate but it's never very popular, the social ritual is important. Also unfortunately a disease vector, I haven't had any mate in a year and a half.

Mate aficionados will tell you that mate contains a special compound, mateine, that serves as a tonic and mild stimulant, promoting alertness without making it hard to sleep, reducing fatigue and appetite, helping the digestion and serving as a mild diuretic. Scientists will tell you that mateine bears a suspicious resemblance to a chemical called caffeine. Mate aficionados will then grow indignant, explaining that mateine is really a stereoisomer (mirror image) of caffeine, with different effects, which will in turn irritate the scientists, who will snap that caffeine doesn't have a chiral center, so it can't have a distinguishable mirror image, and why don't the mate aficionados just put a sock in it.

The first part of this is true; some people definitely think "mateine" is different from caffeine and it absolutely isn't. Never heard the stereoisomer claim before but googling it does confirm some people say so.

still have no idea what any of this has to do with lunch, though. I promise you nobody skips lunch because mate is just too filling.

The wine here is very good (something has to stand up to that steak), but Argentina has no liquor to call its own, relying on whiskies like Old Smuggler and the low-maintenance Don Juan cognac to carry the flag.

There's a fundamental omission from this list and it's called fernet.

Beer is ubiquitous and comes in a bewildering variety of sizes, although there is a skittishness about the full-on liter. Things level off at 970 mL. In my case, it means I end up drinking 1940 mL of beer as a kind of personal protest, and all is well with the world. To make up for the abundance of sizes, beer comes in only one variety, Quilmes, which inevitably comes served with a tripartite platter of snacks - nuts, salty cylinders, and aged potato chips.

I never had trouble buying beer by the litre, but I confess I never tried to do so in 2006 on account of being under 18 at the time.

Anyway, beer comes in a lot more varieties today, thankfully, because Quilmes sucks. I'll never be a beer person, but at least these days there's options I tolerate.

[original post]

[jimlingss]

Game of Temptation

➜ Words: 16k

➜ Genres: 60% Smut, 35% Angst, 5% Fluff, Succubus!AU

➜ Summary: As a succubus, your beauty is unrivaled and shaped to tempt mortals. But it's still hard to resist Taehyung, and there's little you can do once you've been coerced to do his bidding for him. This time, you find yourself entering the affluent Kim Household as a housemaid. And these poor humans don't know your intentions are far from being angelic.

➜ Warning: seduction, sex, homewrecking, infidelity, daddy kink, creampie, etc. There were no morals in the making of this fic. I do not subscribe to my characters’ beliefs, y'all. It's just some crazy fiction. Reader discretion advised.

It’s your chance to have a little fun, peach.   The four wheels of the luggage roll against the smooth pavement, over the cracks and up the massive driveway. The sweltering sun isn’t a bother when the feeling of flames licking against your cheeks is such a familiarity. Yet, you still feel disgruntled as Taehyung’s words ring inside your head.   I know you want to try your hand at it. And you’ve been telling me how much you want a little subordinate of your own. You could do whatever you want with them. There are no rules.   He’s a bastard. If it wasn’t for you being so wrapped around his finger and dancing in the palm of his hand, you would never do something this ridiculous. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. Taehyung’s words of persuasion act like you do have a choice when in reality, he mocks.   Yet, in spite of what you might really think, you continue on your way, lugging your heavy baggage up the stairs and steadying your breath. Feeling a sense of calmness, the pad of your index finger presses the doorbell. You listen to how the sound echoes inside the enormous manor.   There’s shouting, footsteps, and a second later, the door swings open.   There’s a plump woman with an apron tied over her body, her gray streaked hair pulled back into a bun. She’s out of breath as she is fatigued even though it’s only eight in the morning. But she still greets you with a smile that spreads into her chubby cheeks. “Hello! You must be the new live-in nanny and housemaid! Come in, come in. Don’t just stand out here! It’s so cold!”   She helps drag in your luggage.    The large foyer opens up to a grand staircase, two archways on both sides that allow you to peek into the chandeliered and golden curtain rooms. There’s antique china in a display case and vases on tables — more to paint a picture of wealth than for any actual purpose. But while one would expect a quiet and proper home, there’s chaos instead. Feet rumbling from upstairs. Sharp laughter and exhausted sighs. Noises of shouting and screaming.    “You’re younger than I expected. What’s your name?”   “Y/N, madam.”   “Oh, I’m not the madam,” the woman giggles at the thought and bats the air with her hand. “The madam isn’t as old as I am. I’m the Kim’s housekeeper, Ms. Yoo. We’ll be working close together. Have you eaten yet? The trip must’ve been long and tiring. Would you like to rest?”   The corner of your lips quirk. “I’m alright, thank you.”   “I’ll give you a tour around then. The faster you can become accustomed to this home, the faster you can help out.”   You nod, but before she can get in another word, there’s thundering stomps down the stairs.    A boy’s face pokes through the banisters and he gives a toothless grin. Not more than five years old, he wears a blue, collared shirt and khaki shorts, one foot with a sock and the other without — he’s no doubt a spoiled, little brat.   The kid makes a ruckus while running down the rest of the steps, jumping from the last three and he comes up to you, eyes wide and sparkling as he looks up. “Who’re you?”   You lower yourself and offer a soft smile. “I’m going to be your daddy and mommy’s new little helper. We’re going to have lots of fun from now on.”   “Jaesun! Jaesun, get back here! What did I say about slamming your bedroom door?!”   A frail woman with grating vocal cords comes down the stairs as well. Her chest is rising and falling, evidently winded from her son but her eyes visibly light up when she sees you.    “You must be Y/N, aren’t you?” She’s a pretty woman with few wrinkles even in her forties, dressed cleanly in a rosy blouse and white skirt. But her dark circles ruin the pristine image.    “Yes, I am, madam.”   She shakes your hand vigorously. She looks at you like you’re her guardian angel. An irony that tickles your senses. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re finally here. I’m Kim Yijin, my husband is Kim Namjoon, but we should head to the kitchen to talk. There’s not much time left.”   The housekeeper smiles. “Yes, I was about to show her the way.”   “Let’s go, Jaesun.” You offer your hand to the boy and he happily takes it, something that Yijin doesn’t miss and even grins at.    The kitchen is twice the size of the foyer, two stove sets and two refrigerators side by side. The counter space is enough to stretch your entire body across and you can only marvel at the surroundings.    “I hope you don’t get too overwhelmed,” Yijin says as she turns to get her coffee started and Ms. Yoo sets out breakfast for Jaesun at the table. “But I should tell you now before I forget to. My family eats a gluten-free diet. Our Jaesun is lactose and tolerant, so he’s only to have soy milk and calcium-fortified orange juice. My daughter has poor digestion, so try to avoid whole-grains when you’re preparing the meals.” She stops for a second, lamenting, “and she has such bad skin these days, so avoid milk and anything bad, like instant noodles, even if she begs for it. The girl doesn’t know what’s good and bad for her.”   With her steaming coffee cup in hand, Yijin waltzes around the kitchen, forcing you to follow her whims.   “Make sure the kids have at least three servings of fruits and vegetables. My husband doesn’t like eggs and Jaesun isn’t supposed to have candy. Also, this is less important, but I really like fried foods that aren’t too oily, so if you have anything you can make…”   The corners of your lips lift. “I have a fried chicken recipe.”   “I like you already.” She snaps her fingers, smile brightening. She looks over to the older lady, calling out to her, “Ms. Yoo, I can get breakfast ready for today. Would you like to continue showing Y/N around?”   “Yes, I will.”    Even when you could tell from the outside, the house is grand. It’s a closed concept, full of mahogany wood panels, twisting halls, oak doors and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It looks like a place Taehyung would enjoy.    “Every day, we meal prep breakfast, lunch and dinner. Typically only the master of the house is here for lunch, so we have to watch our portions. He works a lot from home. Oh, his younger brother is also living here for some time. He’s an editor, so he’s quite busy. I tend to deliver his meal to his room if he doesn’t come down for dinner.”   You nod, entering the living room.    There’s a giant family photo above the mantel that looks all too artificial — stiff smiles and pressed clothes with a white background. But the space is warmed with cedar bookshelves, a coffee table to match and perfectly positions cushion chairs. In one of them is a sleepy man with dark hair, sipping on a mug as he reads the newspaper.   He looks up at you, features more tender than expected.   “Hello.” You dip your head to the so-called younger brother, keeping your voice soft-spoken.   “Mr. Kim, this is our new helper,” the housekeeper introduces.   “Yes.” His voice is also surprisingly husky. “I’m Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you.”   The two of you stare at one another until you dip your head as Mrs. Yoo keeps going and you leave the room, walking upstairs.   “We dust every day and clean the kitchen each night. Every other day, we do laundry and vacuum the rooms. The living space and foyer get especially dirty, so we have to stay vigilant. If your back ever aches from hunching over so much, tell me and I’ll give you some cream and heated pads.”   A door down the hall shuts and there’s an audible sigh. What follows are footsteps and a teenage girl in an ironed school uniform, backpack on her back. Her black hair is sleek, ending at her waist and in spite of puffy cheeks, her eyes are cat-like.    “Good morning, Sohee. Sleep well?”   “I guess.” As her pupils dart from the housekeeper to you, her steps slow and she halts altogether.   You lock your gaze with her and smile. “Hello. I’m the new housemaid, Y/N.”   You extend your arm, but she dwells — staring like a deer in headlights.   It takes a moment for Sohee to come to her senses and she shakes your hand while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She timidly murmurs, “O-oh. Nice to meet you.”   “Sohee!” There’s a sudden screech of her name from downstairs, grating to the ears. Immediately, the young girl deflates.   “Coming!” she shouts back to her mom with a groan, rolling her eyes before running down the stairs.   The housekeeper smiles sympathetically. “Sohee’s going through a bit of a growth spurt, so she’s been a bit sensitive lately.” You nod and she continues, “We clean the bathrooms once a week and once a month, we wash the carpets. Your room is just this way.”   Down the corridor is a small mahogany door. But there’s grandiose double doors with golden handles right where the hall begins from the open area. And your strides reduce. You linger from curiosity and peer through the crack with an eye. Vaguely, you’re able to make out bookshelves and an imposing desk. More importantly, there’s someone seated in the leather seat behind it.   Mrs. Yoo notices. “Oh, that’s master Kim’s office, but there’s no need to bother him right now.”   Your body moves a little too late. While you’re still peeping through, the man behind the desk raises his head. Your eyes meet, but you leave before either of you can get a good look at each other.   The room you’re given is a meager space — more like a closet compared to the rest of the house. You hold in your scoff, looking around at the single bed. The empty desk. The tiny window with dead bugs on the sill. The wooden chair with splinters sticking out of it. It looks like antiques shoved in a shed. Not even Taehyung treats you this poorly.   “The bathroom is across from your room, so it’s rather convenient!”   You set your luggage down.   “Also, you’ll be watching Jaesun when he comes home from kindergarten. You’ll wash him and put him to bed as well. I’ll help you out until you get the hang of things, so don’t worry too much.”   You wonder if the old lady ever shuts up, but you keep your voice soft-spoken and your demeanour timid. “Thank you.”   “It’s not an issue.” Ms. Yoo pats your shoulder. “Oh, you can get settled a little later on. We should help the madam with breakfast. She doesn’t cook very well.”   It’s possible to get lost in this abyss of a house. There are endless halls and pompous rooms. You don’t understand the purpose of having a large music room next to a drawing room, but you suppose with this much money, it’s fun to throw it into a blazing fire.   The housekeeper continues yapping away as you make it back downstairs. But on your way, you catch a different individual standing in the foyer. Someone in a black suit with doe eyes, boyish features that draw you in.    He seems surprised to see you too.   “Ah, Jungkook! Have you eaten yet? Would you like a coffee?”   “I’m fine, Ms. Yoo.” He has a cute smile full of teeth and his eyes flicker to you. “This is...?”   “Oh, it’s the new helper I was telling you about. Y/N, this is Jungkook, Mr. Kim’s personal chauffeur. He’s been working with this family for almost as long as I’ve been here.”   “Not that long,” Jungkook retorts mischievously. “I only started here a few years ago after I finished school.”   “Only? Oh my. Feels like you started here thirty years ago like I did! Time goes by so fast!”   “Only when you’re having fun.” Jungkook grins and then redirects his attention towards you, clearing his throat. “I-It’s nice to meet you.”   “Likewise.” You shake his hand and dip your head with a tiny smile. He averts his vision too, becoming shy. Yet, when you lift your head, your eyes meet each other’s. You can feel the way his hand is getting sweaty, but you let it linger for a longer amount of time than necessary. Until you’re the one to let go.   He’s too cute.   You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.   The tension between the pair of you is only broken when a voice coughs from the top of the staircase and Jungkook breaks apart from you, taking a step back. You look up at the master, Kim Namjoon. A man in his forties, tall with a commanding aura. His hair is styled neatly, thick glasses sitting on his face, sharply dressed in a tailored suit. Everything about him screams of new money.   “Good morning, Mr. Kim.”   He hums at the housekeeper. “Good morning, Ms. Yoo. This must be the new helper. It’s nice to meet you.” The man comes down and visibly inspects you, as if trying to figure you out and only looks away when he’s satisfied. “I hope you’ll do a good job.”   “Yes, sir.”   “Are you going already, daddy?” Sohee comes from the kitchen, crestfallen. The volume of her voice is quiet and tapers off, “You’re not going to have breakfast with us...?”   “I don’t have time today.” The words tumble out and he looks at his phone. Ms. Yoo opens the door as he answers a call outside.    You look over at Sohee who’s become dejected. Her shoulders have slumped and her hair falls in front of her face. She pouts and tries to hide it. But Jungkook smiles softly and ruffles her hair.   “Don’t be so sad. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow, okay?”   “Really?” Sohee looks up at him, eyes gradually brightening and her cheeks becoming rosy.   He nods. “I’ll make sure to come early.”   “I’ll have to cook more eggs then,” the housekeeper chortles and Jungkook grins until his eyes travel to you. The glance turns into a gaze and neither of you speak until Ms. Yoo turns. “Come on, Y/N! We can’t dawdle all day now.”   “Yes,” you murmur and follow after her, all too aware of Jungkook’s stare on your backside as Sohee still talks without him really listening. Once you turn the corner, the older woman pauses and your brow cocks. “Is….there something the matter?”   She smiles endearingly at you and shakes her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. You’re just very beautiful, that’s all.”

The house is chaotic.   Before going to bed, Ms. Yoo gave you one piece of furniture to add to the sad collection — an alarm clock. And it blares with red digits reading that it’s five in the morning. Lugging yourself up, you’re bombarded with chores. From laundry to wiping down windows and making the bed.   “Excuse me.” You knock against the door and there’s a muffled ‘come in’.   Yoongi sits at his desk with a stack of papers in front of him and a red pen in his hand. His room is similar to yours, cramped and modest, but with a larger window and mattress, and a proper wardrobe and closet.   The man in his pajamas doesn’t look at you. “You can leave it there,” he mumbles and you set his tray of breakfast food on his nightstand.    Your eyes linger on his slouching form. But he never turns around, so you leave.   The noise and bickering from the kitchen can already be heard from the stair landing. The stove top fan is blasted while Ms. Yoo fries eggs, Jaesun sitting at the table with his legs swinging and spitting his cereal all over the place as he plays make-belief with his robot, but most of all—   “Why won’t you let me go?” Sohee is standing by her mother, exasperation and the furrow of her brows ruining her otherwise innocent exterior. “It’s only Yeeun’s house! And you already know her mom!”   “I already said that she isn’t a good influence on you!”   “We’re only studying! I don’t get why you don’t like her!”   “Her family is lower than ours.” Yijin forces herself to become calmer and feeds Jaesun a spoonful of yogurt as he plays. She glances at her daughter after a moment. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d become friends with Lee Sunmi. At least they have something to offer us. And are you going to eat that bagel? It’s filled with cream cheese. We have to watch your weight, remember?”   “Why are you always picking on me?” The girl drops her choice of breakfast and cries, “What about Jaesun?!”   “Are you going to compare yourself to your brother?” She gives her an astonished look full of disbelief, tinged with disappointment. “He’s only five.”   Sohee is frustrated to no end. “I hate you all!” She screams and stomps away as you resume slicing the strawberries, eyes lifting every so often. You watch as Jungkook enters the kitchen at the same time Sohee’s leaving. She pauses for a second but then pushes past him.   Her mother screams after her. “Sohee! Are you not going to eat at all?! That girl! So rude.”   In the meanwhile, Ms. Yoo reads the expression on your face and smiles. “Don’t worry. They never argue for too long.”   “Shouldn’t we at least say something?”   She shakes her head. “I’ve tried to get involved a few times, but it never helped much. Better to keep quiet. Every family argues.”   The housekeeper finishes up in the kitchen while Yijin settles down and sips on her coffee as she scrolls through her phone. She asks for a plate of fruits from Ms. Yoo and at the same time, you notice Jaesun scooping his cereal and purposely spilling it on the ground. No one notices.   It sloshes into a pile.   You hold in your cusses and grab a rag.   The five year old realizes he’s been caught in the act and grins like a little shit. You get on the floor, scrubbing the mess. But the moment the floorboards are back to brown again, there’s another splatter of milk by your hand and a spoonful of cereal flakes that follow. It splashes on your hair and apron and you raise your head to find the little shit plastered with a ginormous smile.   “Done eatin’!” He announces, scooting back his chair before running off in giggles.   May Satan have mercy on the child before you tear his limbs apart.   The minute you’re finished scrubbing the floor and clearing the table, you go off to find the brat. Because god forbid there’s a scratch on him.    You find him in the hallway between the laundry room and garage. “What do you think you’re doing?!”   There’s a bright red crayon in his tight fist. And he’s scribbling all across the wall while laughing at a piercing volume. At the sight of you, Jaesun draws a line as hard as he can until his knuckles are white, bits of wax are sprinkling and the crayon is a half the size it used to be.   The kid runs away before you can snatch him.   Much to your dismay, Ms. Yoo merely smiles in endearment when you tell her. “Kids like to have so much fun, don’t they? I remember when my son was at that age, he was such a troublemaker too. But it’s nothing a little baking soda can’t fix!”   You end up on your knees, scrubbing the wall with a damp rag dipped in the white powder.   You’re humiliating and exhausted.    Taehyung was wrong — there’s nothing fun about this whatsoever. You swear to God you’re going to murder someone.   “How are you doing?”   You look up, discovering doe eyes and pink lips quirked at you. Jungkook is dressed in his suit that’s a bit too big for him, hands dug into the pants pockets as he glances at the wall. You smile at him, brushing away the strand of your hair that came loose from your bun.   It’s not too bad of a time to be sweating. To allow the beads to roll down the nape of your neck.   “It’s tiresome, but nothing I can’t do.”   “I’m assuming this is Jaesun’s little artwork project.”   “Who else could it be?”   Jungkook grins boyishly. “Once he decided to paint the inside the car using the leather seats as his canvas.”   “Why don’t they ever discipline him?” you ask genuinely, tilting your head up at him and he matches the playful glint in your eyes before shrugging.   “Probably because he’s the youngest and the only son, so it’s natural they spoil him.”   “But this is a bit much, isn’t it?” You shake your head, voice pitching upwards into a whine. The irritation was leaking through the facade you’ve created, but all it does is make Jungkook’s grin widen.   “It is. You know—”   “Y/N!” There’s a call of your name in a screeching voice. “Can you come here for a second?”   “Yes!” For the most part, the crayon is taken off and you breathe a sigh of relief. You look over to Jungkook as a tiny smile appears on your features. “See you.”   “Y-Yeah.”   His eyes linger on you as you leave.   “I’m about to be late for work, so can you please bring this up to my husband?” Yijin hands you a wooden tray with a tall glass of some sort of sludgy green liquid filled to the rim. The drink stinks of kale and lettuce. You wonder if she’s trying to poison him. “He hasn’t gotten anything to eat yet and I’m worried. That man never takes care of himself properly. Oh, and I’d really appreciate it if you could Jaesun dressed. Don’t know where he’s run off to.”   You nod and balance the drink up the stairs before coming to the familiar grandiose doors.   You knock timidly.   There’s a disgruntled noise of acknowledgment, one that signifies he’s inside but preoccupied. Still, you push the parted doors open and come forward with the tray. Namjoon never looks up at you, busy studying the files of documents.   The room is warmer than expected, oaks and mahogany, paintings and bookshelves, a large desk that reminds you of a judge’s bench — imposing, commanding. Not unlike him. There’s a fireplace, two leather sofas facing each other and a coffee table in between, and above the mantle is another family portrait that exudes a kind of stiff perfection.   You place the glass down on his disorganized desk, eyes peering up at the man. As you retract your arm, your skin brushes against a stack of papers and they’re knocked to the ground. He whips his head over, brow cocked.   “I’m so sorry, sir,” you whimper. As you frantically pick them up, you bend over in front of him.   “It’s fine.” You feel his eyes linger on your rounded behind before he looks at his document again. You mask a smirk. Namjoon mutters from the corner of his mouth, “Where are you from?”    You purposely pause so he directs his attention to you again.   “I grew up in the countryside not far from here, sir.” You hold the tray to your stomach, presenting a timid disposition as if his gaze weighs heavily on you.   “And what did you do before you took this job?”   “I was in university, sir, but I’m taking a break to save some money.”   The man gives a pleasant nod. “What was your major?”   “Education, sir.” You divert your vision elsewhere, but a sweet smile pulls on your lips. “I would love to become a teacher someday.”   He hums in approval, “I could see you doing that.”   “Daddy?” The conversation is interrupted by Sohee at the door. She’s dressed in her school uniform, but is nowhere near ready to step into a classroom with the way she’s teary-eyed and her voice croaks with a lump in her throat. “Mom’s not letting me study with Yeeun!”   Namjoon exhales exhaustingly. He sits back in his leather chair, looking at the ceiling. Sohee’s eyes stings at how she’s evidently annoying her father. But you don’t dwell, bowing your head and dismissing yourself.   //   You would’ve never picked up this job unless you had to. Not even for the useless money.   You detest education. Never did well, never had fun, never got along with anyone. Be a teacher? You could scoff ten times over. You hate children. You hate kids. They’re absolute brats. Noisy at their best and tormentors at their worst. There’s only a few perks to this job.   Like right now.   “I’m glad to be of service,” Jungkook breathlessly laughs.    His hot breath ghosts along your cheek while your legs wrap and lock around his waist.   A comfortable darkness surrounds you. The moonlight cascades through the small window, enough that you can see his handsome profile. And the slick, obscene sounds are covered by the dryer machine still rumbling underneath you. It has the last load of towels the housekeeper wanted to get done tonight — and it’s also helping Jungkook release his load into you.   The vibrations of the dryer flow through your body, adding to his raw strokes and the moans choking out of you. It didn’t take much to convince him to sneak away. The one-dimensional family is completely oblivious too, sleeping upstairs in their warm beds. You’re tempted to whine Jungkook’s name louder and make one of them investigate. You wonder what the look on their face would be if they found their little maid and chauffeur fucking in the laundry room.   Jungkook tugs down your dress further and gently noses your hardened nipple before his mouth travels upwards to the juncture of your neck. You feel his lips suck into your soft skin, but the fingers sunk into his dark hair tightens and you pull his head back.   He gives a throaty groan, half-lidded eyes pinned on your face.   You writhe against his hard chest every time his thick cock drags out of your walls. He’s bigger than you expected. Eager too. Jungkook is a healthy and young one, hips and strokes fluid albeit a bit fast and excited.    You can tell he likes you a lot.   “I-I would’ve never guessed you hated kids.” The boy watches how his cock enters you and disappears. Your pussy clenches around him and he sweats at his hairline, trying to hold back from cumming so soon.   “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you sing-song cutely and roughly pull him in by his shoulders, batting your lashes. “Can you kiss me, please, Jungkookie?”   He nods enthusiastically and leans in to nose your cheek. Then, he tilts his head and your mouth meets his. Your lips immediately part to welcome him deeper and his hands force your thighs farther apart, fingers digging into your flesh. Jungkook’s tongue licks into your hot mouth, making you moan.    Yet, the kiss is somehow sweet. Much too pure for someone like you.   The two of you break apart, lips wet with his spit. “I-I’m close.”   Jungkook’s strokes start to lose their rhythm. They become frantic. Frenzied. He can feel the shaking of the dryer jumping beneath you, how tight and wet you are around him.   You watch him through hooded eyes, tempted to coo at him and tell him that he can do it — encourage him that he can release his load right into your womb. But not wanting to ruin his fun moment, you instead squeeze as tight as you can.    Jungkook groans, hips jerking and he plunges deep inside your cunt to cum.    He gives two more thrusts. His entire body trembles and he realizes you’re still unfinished. Even with half a mind, he has the courtesy to lick his thumb and rub at your clit. You writhe with moans of his name, holding him close and a few seconds later, you get to where you want to be.   As you come down from your high, you pet him. “Good boy. Thanks for that.”   “Y-You’re so pretty.”   “Am I?” you hum and he nods madly.   Jungkook’s sticky breath heaves, chest rising and falling and you wrap your arms possessively around his shoulders. Whining incoherently, he understands that you’re pleading for another kiss. He happily obliges and you angle your head to deepen it. The kiss is lazier. Languid. Giving you a chance to taste him properly.   Jungkook starts to groan when you don’t pull away after thirty seconds.   He tries to part, losing oxygen. But you keep him in your tight grip. And you inhale.   It’s delicious. It fills you with a sense of euphoria, making goosebumps raise all over the back of your arms. It’s been a while since you’ve had a soul for yourself. And as it leaves his body, you feel him go limp around you.   Jungkook falls to the tiled floor, leaving a sopping mess at your center.   “Would you look at that?” A deep timbre sounds. He appears, manifesting himself across from you with the corpse in between. The corner of his thin lip is curled as if he’s impressed. His blonde hair looks white in the milky moonlight and the darkness causes his piercing brown eyes to glow. “Not too bad, peach.”   “It’s so easy, it’s not even fun.” You hop down from the dryer machine.   Taehyung’s devilish smirk grows. “That’s because you’re so naturally enticing.”   You roll your eyes.   He comes close, large hands lifting to cradle your cheeks. Taehyung kisses you without much warning — not that you need it — and he licks into your mouth, inhaling deep. He retrieves the soul you took, taking it right from your parted lips.   The two of you part and the thin strand of saliva breaks. Taehyung boops your nose. “I always knew my succubus was a talented one.”   You scoff. “Don’t act like you came here to praise me. You just wanted to collect the soul.”   “Can’t I come here for both?” He lolls his head, another smirk gracing his perfect visage that’s been sculpted by porcelain angel tears. “But it looks like you don’t need my help, so I’ll be on my way.”   Taehyung winks and takes the discarded body on the ground, disappearing with it. He vanishes as quickly as he came.   After he’s gone, you dip your hand between your messy legs.    It’s the last remnants of Jungkook and it’s salty on your palette when you lick your fingers.   //   The mattress is soft against your knees. It cushions and molds against you each time you push down. But still, your wrists strain against the hardened muscles and knots.   Yijin hums, a pleased smile on her face. “A little harder please. And oh, up there. Yes, yes. That’s the spot.”    You continue to massage her, making sure to knead your thumbs into the sweet spots. The madam of the house moans in satisfaction. If she wasn’t so annoying and if her soul wasn’t so bland to you — you would’ve taken it long ago. But well, she might be fun to have around a little longer when you start messing with her family more.    “You’re good,” she hums. “Where did you learn?”   “Here and there. My grandma had a lot of sore muscles, so naturally, I kind of picked it up.”   In reality, Taehyung makes you rub his shoulders all the time.   She looks like she’s enjoying herself, head placed to the side, eyes closed and the corners of her mouth raises. She’s melting under your touch. But even when she’s this relaxed, she still manages to yap.    “It’s been so long since I’ve been treated like this at home. I used to go to the spa often but there’s nothing like a home massage,” Yijin mumbles, “Namjoon used to do it for me all the time before we had kids and then he got busy with work, and well, it’s the reason we have this big house.”   She flips her head to the other side and you rub between her shoulder blades. “I used to be as pretty as you are.”   You keep your voice quiet and meek. “Pardon? You’re still pretty, madam.”   “You don’t need to flatter me.”   “But it’s true…?” Your voice pitches upwards as if you’re incredulous as to how she could think otherwise. “You have a maternal aura about you that I don’t have and you’re an established professional. Women can only dream of having that.”   Peering at her, you catch the way her smile sweetens.   At the same time, her husband enters the bedroom. Sighing and pulling off his tie, he places his briefcase down and moves to the minibar. Namjoon pours himself a glass of whisky and collapses into the white armchair beside the modern standing lamp, thighs spread wide and rather inviting. You look up at him, lashes fluttering in curiosity.   “What’s wrong?” Yijin opens one eye, clearly catching how stressed Namjoon is.   “I found that damn punk’s resignation letter on my desk. He’s gone.” He lifts his glass, taking a long sip of the amber liquid and letting the glass rest between his fingertips.   “Who?”   “Jungkook.”   “What?” Both of Yijin’s eyes peel back, pupils widening in shock. “How could that brat leave without warning?”   “I don’t know.” Namjoon looks to the whiskey, exhaling yet again. “After years of working for us, he upped and disappeared. I guess workers are always like that. Sohee’s been crying and throwing a tantrum. But anyway, I need to hire someone new. I don’t know who’s going to work this far from the city though.”   You continue rubbing Yijin’s back and you feel Namjoon’s gaze traveling to you from his place on the armchair. From the profile of your face, the nape of your neck, to the skin of your thighs that’s exposed from your dress being hiked up so you’re able to kneel on his mattress.   Yijin makes a noise. “Well, there’s nothing we can do. Do you want a massage too? Y/N’s really amazing.”   Namjoon looks away, tearing his eyes from you. “No. I’m fine. I only need to rest a bit before I have to go back to work.”   His wife opens her eyes again and this time, she gets up. You lean back, allowing her to do so.   “Oh my goodness! Your associate is coming for dinner tonight, isn’t he? I almost forgot!” She snaps her fingers and looks at you. “Can you please draw me a bath, Y/N? I have to look presentable.”   //   The business associate is Taehyung.   You couldn’t roll your eyes any harder when you see the blonde seated on the leather sofa as if he owns the place, suit and tie crisp, shoes polished. You don’t know what he’s doing or how he even set himself in their lives, but you suppose you had planted yourself in this household in dubious ways too — with his help, of course. So you don’t question it too much.   “I must say, this house is much more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.”   “That’s all thanks to my wife,” Namjoon chuckles, hands clasped together. “She has a better sense of aesthetics than I do.”   Yijin smiles. She’s dressed in another one of her rosy blouses and white skirts, polished without a hair out of place — to both play the role of the perfect wife and appeal to the handsome stranger. “Thank you. I wanted to be an interior designer a long time ago, so it was really fun to try my hand at it even if it’s not much.”   “Nonsense. It’s wonderful. Do you still want to be an interior designer now? You certainly have the skills for it.”   “Oh, no.” She bats the air with her hand. “I lost the dream when I got married and had kids. Plus, I don’t think I could ever work for anyone. It doesn’t really suit me.”   “Ah.” Taehyung leans back, all too comfortable as he is playful. “You prefer reaping the benefits of your husband and enjoying yourself? Can’t say I blame you.”   The corner of Namjoon’s mouth tilts while you approach with a bottle of wine, setting the crystal glasses down for them. “You know how women are.”   “On the contrary, they’re the more intelligent ones for letting us do all the work while they take pleasure,” Taehyung says, causing the other man to laugh and agree. You round the table to pour him a glass of wine and Taehyung looks at you with that infamous smirk, but you try to not make eye contact for long. “Thank you.”   You dip your head wordlessly.   “Oh yes.” Yijin perks up. “Thank you for recommending the company that you did. If not, we wouldn’t have been able to hire Y/N.”   “It’s not a problem at all. I’m always happy to help.” He smiles, taking the stem of the wine glass and rotating it to slosh the ruby liquid inside. “I take it she’s a good addition to the house?”   “Yes, she is.”   Taehyung exhales through his nostrils, lips adorned with a devilish smile. “I’m glad.”   You return to the kitchen unscathed, but damning Taehyung in your head for messing with your game. Though your irritation can’t last for long when Ms. Yoo hands you a wooden tray heavy with bowls and dishes. “Can you bring this up to the master’s younger brother? He’ll be having dinner in his room today.”   “Okay.”   You knock on the door. There’s a pause and after a moment, you open it.   Yoongi is in the same spot he was this morning, crouched over his desk with a red pen in hand, papers in front of him and round reading glasses perched on his nose. The curtains are drawn but the glow of the lamp gives him enough luminescence to work.   “You can leave it over there,” he mumbles and you place it on the usual spot.   The man never raises his head or pays any attention to you.   Your brow cocks and you take the tall glass, deciding to bring it to him. “Here’s some water, sir.”   And you purposely waver. The liquid sloshing on the sides and unceremoniously spills onto his lap. Yoongi jolts, arms lifting to save his papers while you sharply gasp. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!”   You fall onto your knees and begin dabbing all over his lap and crotch with your apron. Yet your antics doesn’t last for a few seconds before he’s brushing your hand away. “It’s fine. It’s just water.”   You peer up at him through your lashes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim.”   “I told you to leave it over there,” he grunts, casting a measly glance at you. “But it’s fine. If you have nothing else to do, please leave. I have a lot of work to get done.”   You rise to your feet and exit. He’s a harder one to crack. Those little tactics might not be enough, but you’ll get there soon enough. You’re certain of it.   “Y/N?” There’s a strangled whimper and you turn around in the dark corridor to see Sohee emerge from her room. The area underneath her eyes are reddened, nose raw. Her whole body trembles as she sniffles. The girl looks small and vulnerable, almost like a puppy.   “Is there something wrong?” you ask gently, akin to a mother cooing at her child.   Sohee’s eyes flicker up to you. “Did...Jungkook ever tell you anything before he left?”   You shake your head. “No. We were never that close. I’ve only spoken to him a few times.”   She nods. There’s a beat of silence and you lift your hand to caress her hair. The girl is startled but then eases, even leaning into your tender touch. You draw your fingers through her long, straight strands, petting her gently. “I’m sure he left for good reason. Maybe something happened or it was a family emergency. He was always close to you, right?”   Sohee nods again while choked cries come from her. “W-We were family.”   You embrace her, patting her back and she leans on your chest. “You’re not alone, Sohee. You have me now and I won’t ever leave like Jungkook did.”   She squeezes you back.   But the moment is shattered by a grating voice of her mother. “Sohee! Where are you?! Get down here and greet your dad’s friend!”    Her jaw clamps. She parts from you, rubbing her eyes.    You watch her go and she turns around to look at you. You smile at her.   //    “Your maid outfit’s cute.” He appears. A creeping shadow casted against the wall first, then flesh that stitches into the room. You’re resting on your bed, leaning against the headboard and filing your nails one at a time — the yellow glow of the desk lamp giving you barely enough light. “I didn’t get a good look last time.”   “What are you doing, Taehyung?” You blow against your index finger and finally ascend your gaze.   “Just having a little fun,” he chimes and muses that— “You’re taking a lot longer than usual.”   “Well, I’m just having some fun.”   Taehyung scoffs. “Don’t take too long.”   “You shouldn’t act like you’re busy when you’re not,” you bite back without missing a beat.   His brow cocks, smirk playing on his lips. “I think it’s been too long since I’ve disciplined you.”   Before you can react, he ambushes and pins you flat onto the bed. Taehyung hovers over you with a glint in his eyes, heavy body on top of yours, hips pressed together. He holds your wrists above your head, preventing you from squirming. But you make no attempts to do so, simply glaring at him like a petulant child. You’re neither surprised nor caught off guard. Taehyung always likes to be the one on top, in a literal and figurative sense. And truth be told, you don’t particularly mind.   His pink lips are curled and he leans down to your neck. He starts to suck into your skin, rough enough to break through and your pathetic cries only spur him on. Making him smirk against you. But your fingers find their way into his hair and you yank his head back.   Flesh coated in his saliva, a giant purple bruise is left blooming on your supple skin as the redness fades. “I told you no marks.”   “You’re going to need it, peach,” he says with a mischievous grin and then vanishes.   You’re left rolling your eyes.   //   The grandiose double doors have never been intimidating. Even when Ms. Yoo has warned you on your first day to not disturb the master working and to not approach unless necessary. As much of a brat as the five year old is, even he doesn’t come close to his father’s office.   But to you, those doors have always signified that a very fun game is waiting behind them.    Your knuckles rap against the wooden surface and you pull the golden handles without waiting for confirmation. Kim Namjoon’s seated in his leather chair behind the imposing desk, eyes flickering upwards and you smile, holding your tray higher. “It’s fruit, sir.”   “That isn’t necessary,” he says and you feign dejection, downcast eyes, shoulder slumping. He swallows hard and then beckons you over. “You can bring it here.”   You come forward and place the plate on a single empty spot on the desk not coated in file folders. You’re close enough that he catches a whiff of your scent and the hickey on your neck.   A scoff spills from Namjoon’s chest.   “You’re doing a lot of unnecessary things in my home,” he comments offhandedly, perhaps not for your ears to hear. It’s passive aggressive and you mask your smile. Namjoon looks at you. “I would prefer if you would work properly and complete your duties without doing much else.”   You feign confusion. Wide-eyed blinking. Lashes batting.   As if giving you the reason for his mention, his eyes linger at the hickey.   In a delayed manner, your hand raises to the juncture of your neck, covering the spot Taehyung made like that alone could remove it. And then, you immediately drop to the ground on your knees.   “I-I’m so sorry, sir. It...it wasn’t my fault,” you cry out, searching the floor as the volume of your voice becomes timid and shy. It isn’t hard to come up with an excuse. “J-Jungkook did it. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he cornered me in the laundry room and I..told him to stop...but…”   He slams his desk.   Hand curled into a tight fist. Making the pens on the surface jump. It’s startling and you look up at him, viewing just how upset he is. “He left the next morning and hasn’t been back…”   “So that’s why he left. Why didn’t you tell me?” Namjoon stares at you in distress. “This is very serious.”   You shake your head. “I was afraid of saying anything. I know Jungkook’s been here longer than I have, so I didn’t think anyone would believe me and I can’t lose this job, sir.” Your head tilts to look up at him, eyes gleaming through your lashes, lips pouted, still on your knees. “I’m sorry.”   The man sighs. “There’s no reason to apologize. If he ever comes back, I’ll call the police immediately. No one in this household should ever feel unsafe. I’ll promise you that.”   You nod and he helps pull you up by your arm. You stagger upwards and on weakened knees, you stumble. With agile skills Taehyung would be proud of, you land on the man’s lap. Perched on his spread thighs, your legs placed along one side, and hands securely on his shoulders. Namjoon’s steadied you as well with his own palms sprawled on the small of your waist. And your parted lips are gasping mere millimeters away from his.   It’s an intimate moment. One where your gazes lock. One where you make sure lasts three seconds to imprint into his mind.   And then true to the character you’ve created, you pull yourself away. You grab your chair and dip your head. “I’m so sorry, sir.”   Before the master of the house can get another word out, you run out the room.   The minute you’re outside, you run into Yoongi. Passing by, he cocks a brow at the way you frantically shut the doors and your breathing is laboured as if you ran a marathon.   “Something wrong?”   Your head shakes and you devilishly smile at him. “It’s nothing at all.”   //   It’s a game with these mortal men.   You know they want you — that they helplessly dream about you at night. Your words, your lips, you crawling over to them and doing whatever they ask. Showing what reality could be. But the more you let them peek without giving it to them, the deeper they fall into your trap of honey.   “What do you think?”   You place the papers down, a tender smile placed on your features. “Shouldn’t you ask your uncle who’s an editor to look over your essay instead of me?”   Sohee playfully sulks. “Yeah, but he’s always busy. I don’t want to bother him.”   “You made a few errors here and the conclusion isn’t as strong as the introduction. I think you should expand on this point into one or two more sentences. But overall it’s very well written, Sohee. You might even have a knack for writing.”   The girl nods with a grin and when you stroke her hair while telling her how proud you are, she looks up at you and leans into your touch.   Ms. Yoo enters the dining room, endeared at the sight of you and Sohee sitting together at the table and working on her homework. She’s reluctant to interrupt but does so anyways. “Y/N, the master is calling for you.”   The housekeeper never tells you for what purpose, but you have an inkling sprouted from your intuition. Swiftly, you leave and Ms. Yoo takes your place as Sohee continues on other assignments she’s able to do on her own. The pair of them are equally unsuspecting.   It’s evening and long after dinner. The sun is dipping over the horizon, crimson shades fuzzy in the sky. Everyone is preoccupied and there’s no real reason why he should be calling you.   But you don’t hesitate.   Your knuckles rap against the grandiose doors. There’s a pause and you push it open.   Inside, there’s a fire roaring in the fireplace — above the mantle is the family portrait — and the man is standing and staring at the flickering flames. His face casted by the warm glow and he’s nursing a glass of whiskey. Namjoon raises his head as you push the door back to where it was, leaving it slightly parted.    “Good evening.”   “Is there something wrong, sir?”   He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve just been thinking and I...realized I haven’t been as kind to you as I should’ve been. It didn’t occur to me that this wasn’t a safe place for you and I want to change that. I don’t want anyone in this house to be afraid.”   You know he’s referring to what you’ve accused Jungkook of doing and promptly you close the distance. Your steps are slow as your hips sway and you look at him through lidded eyes.   “Sir.” You keep your voice low. “This has always been a safe place to me, because I know you’re here.”   Your eyes locked into one another and a tense silence lingers.   Finally, Namjoon swallows hard and diverts his vision. “Would you like a drink?”   “I-Is that allowed, sir?”    “I’ll allow it.” The suited man smiles and moves to sit on his dark leather couch.    There are two couches facing one another by the fireplace with a coffee table in between, opposite of his desk and the bookshelves. A once private sanctuary meant for no one but him, yet you have an exclusive invitation.   His thighs spread as he gets comfortable and he reaches for the fancy bottle of whiskey. Namjoon pours a glass of the amber liquid. It sloshes on the side and he extends his arm.   You take it nervously as if you’ve never drank much before.   “You don’t have to drink it all if you don’t want to.”   “It’s not that.” You smile at him through your lashes. “I’m just wondering how expensive it is.”   Namjoon scoffs lightly, but not out of malice or annoyance. It’s from endearment. “You don’t need to worry about that.”   The rim of the glass is placed between your plush lips and you take a sip. It’s bitter, but slides smoothly down.   He watches you and in the meanwhile, your eyes flicker away from him. Something catches your attention on a mahogany bookshelf, so you cross the room. You allow your knees to brush against his, the loose strands of your hair nearly skimming along his nose.   Namjoon clears his throat, holding the crystal glass casually between his fingertips. “Can I ask what kind of perfume you use?”   You twist around with another easy smile. “I don’t really use any, sir.”   Bending over in his line of vision, you look at his stacks of books and other knick-knacks on his shelf. “You have chess?”   “I do.” He places his glass down. “Do you want to play?”   You turn around with another coy smile. “Can we really?”   The darkness of the room thickens, fire crackling and sputtering in the background. The glow is dim against your profiles and casts your shadows along the wall. The game of chess has been set on the small table. You tell him you barely know how to play to which he replied he’d go easy on you. A few minutes have passed and you’ve moved a few pawns around. Yet, it’s intimate and quiet as if the room is hidden away from the rest of the house. Something you’re sure isn’t too far off.   “Are you alright, sir?” you ask in a husky murmur, pupils flickering up to him as he’s mid-way from taking another sip of his whisky. “You seemed pretty stressed a few days ago.”   Namjoon leans back into the seat. It sinks underneath his weight. His thighs are spread as you hold your knight, still debating on where to place it on the board. “I still am, but it's just the usual business stress.”   “Your wife worries a lot.”    You place the chess piece down and he leans forward again, capturing your pawn with one smooth move of his rook.   “You don’t need to try to make me feel better. I know she doesn’t care.”   “That’s not true,” you refute half-heartedly. “Why do you feel that way?”   “It’s obvious,” he mumbles and takes another pawn of yours when you move it. “My wife is more preoccupied with using my credit card and all she does all day is nag which makes it worse.”   You move your bishop across the board.   “Because of her, we have to have two live-in maids in the house at all times,” Namjoon continues. The liquor makes it easy for him to relax and let the truth spill. He’s defenseless. “Sohee doesn’t get along with her at all and Jaesun isn’t disciplined whatsoever. Sometimes I wonder why my family is like this and where it went wrong.”   The older man exhales and slides his king forward.    He waits for your next move, but you don’t go.    Your gaze is pinned on him and his eyes travel upwards to connect with yours.   “It doesn’t need to be that way, sir,” you whisper.   It’s your moment. You can feel it. And you disregard the game in favour of crawling towards him. The chess pieces knock over, some to the table and the others collide to the ground.    He has no idea you were two moves away from checkmate.   In seconds, you straddle his thighs. Namjoon’s at a loss, arms not yet touching you, but hands never pushing you off of him. His eyes have gone hazy. He’s completely entranced by you, bewitched under your spell. Vulnerable to your seduction and the wicked temptation you offer.   “What are you doing?” His breath laboured and he tries to muster sternness to no avail, as if you shouldn’t entice him with such a dangerous game.   The corner of your lip pulls into a devilish smile. “I’m doing to fulfill every single one of your fantasies, daddy.” And you kiss him. Slotting your soft lips against his chapped ones, letting them move gently. It’s a brief moment before Namjoon surges forward like a man possessed.   Namjoon’s hands grab your ass and he pushes you forward until you’re sitting directly sitting above his crotch. You whimper, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His brows furrow, mouth parting from the pain and you steal the chance to deepen the kiss.    He struggles for control but you ultimately give it to him, feigning submission.   It’s too easy.   You roll your hips over his hardened crotch, feeling how your panties stick to your slick folds, and he grabs hold of your waist. The pair of you break away from the kiss with your arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders.   “God, you knew what you were doing this entire time, weren’t you?” Namjoon’s chest heaves against yours. “Every time you fucking bent over. Every time you tried to play coy. Such a goddamn tease.”   His fingers rub over your wet lips then down to your neck and collarbones. His hands travel to the low collar of your dress and then he tears it. The fabric rips against the threads and you whine in shock. But Namjoon never halts, undoing your bra and tossing it aside. He grabs a handful of your soft breast and pinches your nipples roughly until the bud hardens against the pad of his fingers. You sob out as he watches you through lidded eyes, mesmerized by the way your expression contorts into pleasure.   “I can see why Jeon liked you so much.”   “But I didn’t want him to touch me, daddy.” You pout at him. The thin layer of your panties and his slacks prevents you from feeling it completely, but it’s still dry fucking. “I-I only wanted you.”   “And you’re going to have me,” the man grunts and pulls aside the skirt of your uniform. His hand dips past your thin, white underwear and his fingers feel against your folds.   “Fuck,” he hotly exhales, “you’re soaked. Do you really want me that badly?”   “Yes, daddy.” Without warning, Namjoon’s index and middle finger plunges into your cunt until he’s knuckle deep. You cry out, hugging him tighter to you and he pants, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.   “Your cunt is so tight.”   You squeeze around his prodding fingers. “Tighter than your wife’s?”   Before he can answer, you kiss him again. Your sticky tongues interlace, sloppy and obscene. You taste his spit at the back of your throat — and it’s just the way you like it.    The kiss lasts long enough that you can swallow his groan and you pull off his suit jacket. The rest of your dress pools around your hips. It becomes frantic after that, breaking apart just to rid of your clothes. He tosses your ruined underwear aside, but keeps the rest of his own attire on.   It’s some kind of power play as if you should be the only one naked and vulnerable.   Yet he’s oblivious to how you have him wrapped around your finger.   “Tell daddy.” The older man’s hand wraps around your throat gently. “Have you ever been fucked properly before?”   His slacks have been tugged down enough that his cock has sprung free and his other hand grips the base of it. The reddened tip leaks with a bead of precum and you eye how big he really is. It’s more than Jungkook’s but less than Taehyung’s.   You shake your head and lie. “No.”   Namjoon cusses.   “Is that okay?” you timidly whimper and he smirks.   “More than okay, baby. It won’t hurt too bad.”   He guides his shaft to your pulsing cunt and runs the head of his cock along the collected wetness that has stained his pants and dripped to his leather couch. Both of you lower your heads, watching as he starts pushing through your folds. Immediately, your fingers tighten on his shoulders, wrinkling his expensive white shirt that was ironed by his wife.   Namjoon shushes you. “Relax. It’s okay.”   “I-It’s too much, daddy,” you complain in a pitched voice. “It’s too big.”   His jaw ticks, fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your parted thighs. “You can take it.”   You nod and sink down on him slowly, making sure to draw it out as long as you can. And Namjoon’s head falls back. He groans and makes it balls deep inside of you.   You make sure to tremble and squeeze around him, keeping his cock at a vice grip. “Is this okay?”   “Uh-huh, sweetheart. It’s great.”   With his eyes closed, he misses your smirk.   You begin to fuck yourself onto him, feeling the pull and thrust of his big shaft dragging along your wet walls. The way your cunt stretches deliciously. Namjoon meets you half-way, hips thrusting upwards while you rock yourself against him. Your nipples are hardened and your breasts bounce in front of him. Tying the sight all together, you reach behind and pull the pins from your hair, letting it cascade down.   You know it must be a sight for sore eyes.    While you’ve never flaunted your appearance, you know you’ve been subtly altered to lure mortal men in. Your face and body are the accumulation of their fantasies. And it’s effortless to tempt them. To captivate their attention with a simple smile. You’ve looked at yourself enough times in the mirror to know that you aren't shabby too.   “Daddy, it f-feels...so good,” the words are choked out of you, sobbed as you bat your lashes.   Jungkook, the poor boy, was much more eager and sweeter. But with Namjoon, his experience is evident in his strokes. He’s rougher with the way he squeezes your ass until a handprint is left. There’s less regard with how he treats you, as if you’re just a pretty placeholder merely giving pleasure.   His hard thrusts against your cervix would hurt if not for how the pleasure overtakes you.   “You have to pull out, daddy,” you stutter. “I-I can’t get pregnant.”   Your kind can’t carry children from mortals but he doesn’t need to know that.   “I’ll do whatever I want,” Namjoon grunts, jaw clamped and brows furrowed. He sweats at his hairline. “I’ll cum where I want.”   You give a loud and exasperated moan that you hope he enjoys. “B-But it’s not right.”   “Shush. I’ll take care of you.”   You squeeze around him again, hands tight on his shoulders. Namjoon’s eyes are shut as he revels in the feeling of you rocking against him and you smirk, looking down at him. At how pathetic he’s gotten.   Just sitting on his lap and giving a simple kiss was enough to reduce him to this mess. From an established mogul in his forties into a helpless, hormonal teenage boy. In a few minutes, he’s thrown away years of marriage and loyalty for his wife for some maid’s cunt. A measly housemaid who’s supposed to be only a few years older than his own daughter.   Taehyung was right — this is fun.   At the same time, Sohee walks up the stairs while humming, hugging her textbooks to her body. She beelines straight to your room at the end of the other hall, wanting to show off how she’s finished everything and secretly hoping that you’ll gently stroke her hair like you always do.   But as she passes by her father’s office, her ears catch a high-pitched whine. She stops. On sheer instincts, her head swivels over. And through the crack, she finds her dad’s backside. She sees the way you’re on top of him, naked, riding her father. Your eyes flicker to her through the gap. She gasps.   Sohee backs away into the darkness. She turns around, a thick lump forming in her throat, her brows knitted together. But she doesn’t watch where she’s going and her mother meets her in the corridor.   “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed, Sohee.” Yijin’s voice is grating to the ears and she frowns at her daughter’s disposition. The way her downcast head and eyes search the ground. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. “What’s wrong with you?”   She doesn’t mean to — but Sohee’s eyes incidentally travel back to the grandiose double doors.   And Yijin follows her line of sight.   //   “I can’t believe you’ve done this!” Her screeches fill the manor. It’s always been noisy, but never solely because of an individual and certainly never at this ear screeching pitch. “How could you do this to me?!”   Yijin’s absolutely deranged. She’s throwing a fuss early morning after what she saw last night and retreated to her bedroom. She waited for him to return. Yet Namjoon never came to join her.   Now she stands at the foyer with a suitcase that Ms. Yoo packed, but she has no plans of leaving. Instead, she’s tossing porcelain vases on the ground and tugging the tablecloth off of the table. The display case is open and fragments of antiquities litter the marble floor.   Jaesun is crying hysterically at the staircase while rubbing his eyes with two tight fists. Sohee remains silent, standing at the top and looking down at her mother.   “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The woman shrieks at Namjoon who stands there motionlessly, expression blank and impassive. It doesn’t seem like she’ll be satisfied until she gets a remorseful reaction from him or tears this entire house apart. Either of which you’d be amused to see. “You selfish bastard!”   Although this was entertaining in itself. You’ve never seen her like this before. The once polished and poised woman has been diminished to this vengeful bitch that’s about to pop a vein — a version of herself that you always knew was hidden deep inside.   Ms. Yoo is the only one who comes forward and tries to put a stop to it. “Please, madam. Don’t do this,” she pleads softly, tears streaking down her own face.   Jaesun weeps. “Mommy!”   “Madam, please,” Ms. Yoo begs as if she’s trying to placate a child throwing a temper tantrum. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”   “You can’t do this to me, Namjoon!” Yijin’s hair is all in front of her face in a tangled mess. Her dress is wrinkled and she’s bare feet. Crazed — just like her husband was last night….except in different contexts.   Ms. Yoo starts to guide her away from the foyer to the front door, dragging the suitcase with her.    “Even if you divorce me, I could still get the house! Get our kids! Namjoon! Fuckin— Namjoon!”   Ms. Yoo pulls her out the door while crying and Yijin collapses at the steps as violent sobs wrack through her. The housekeeper sets the suitcase outside and looks down, hesitating.    Namjoon deadpans, “Close the door, Ms. Yoo.”   She shuts it. Fists bang against the surface for a moment before it stops, being replaced by the noise of wails. Instantly, Sohee runs upstairs, disappearing from sight. Namjoon turns away. Ms. Yoo sighs, taking Jaesun’s hand and comforting him.   The only other person is Yoongi. His gaze is darkened and he leans against the wall with arms crossed. You turn and his eyes pierce into yours. But wordlessly, you bow your head to him and go on about your day.   //   The house is finally quiet. Just the way you like it.   But it brews with a sort of intensity, a tension that doesn’t let you breathe easy. It was the calm before the final storm and your guard wasn’t going to be put down just yet.   You knock against Sohee’s bedroom door and after hearing no protests, you open it. She’s laying on her bed, covers over her head, having skipped school today which no one blamed her for. You clear your throat, speaking gently as if you were cooing a puppy, “You didn’t have any breakfast, so I brought you hot chocolate, Sohee. I’ll leave it on your nightstand.”   The mug is placed down and as you turn away, the sound of rustling slows your steps. She’s come up for air, hair in a disarray and covering her face, and she calls for you, “Y/N.”   “Hmm?”   “Are…..” She hesitates and you take the invitation to sit at the edge of her bed. The girl looks up at you after a moment. “Are you going to become my new mom?”   The pause is purposeful. It makes it seem as if you’re considering it. Makes it seem as if you’re staring at her because you’re wholeheartedly endeared by her. And that nothing else matters.   To top it off, your arms reach out and you hug her. Sohee is vulnerable, small against you and she eases in your secure embrace, allowing you to hold her. You even run your fingers through her hair, caressing her gently and she softly sighs, relishing in the comfort she never received from her own mother.   In a lot of ways, you share many similarities with her.   “I’m sorry, Sohee,” you murmur. “I didn’t mean you to see that. For all this to happen. I adore you and if you want me to be your new mom, I will, but it’ll be a decision made with you.”   She nods against your shoulder and the corner of your mouth pulls into a subtle smirk.   To think she would ask such a question merely hours after her biological mother was booted out the house is both astounding and unsurprising. It’s partly from her poor relationship with the woman and how she was charmed by you moments after your first encounter. A kind of love at first sight.    Not unlike how most men succumb to your allure — yet differing from lust. Instead, Sohee has developed a familial affection towards you.   But not everyone is as welcome as she is to the new change.   “Did you have anything to do with this?” Yoongi asks you. A surprise that he’s stepped out of his bedroom for some sunlight. Or perhaps to find answers.   You hum, continuing to place the stack of books back onto the shelf in the living room. “Maybe.”   His cat-like eyes are focused, pierced into you with a kind of intensity that would make anyone sweat. But you aren’t anyone. “What are your plans? Is it the inheritance? The status? Namjoon’s money—”   “Neither.”    Finished with your task, you move to the kitchen. But Yoongi blocks the doorway, leaning against it and never moving away. You stop, allowing your bodies to press together, testing as to who will give in first. Yet, he never once yields. Wavers. You’re close enough that he can feel your hot breath against his skin and as his jaw clamps, your pupils flicker down to his pouty mouth.   Against his own will, his eyes mimic yours. They follow to your own lips. And you smirk.   It’s a heated moment and then you brush away from the sharp-witted man.   //   For a short while, there’s a mirage that the game has several winners. But the instant gratification comes with consequences and there is only one ultimate victor.   “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t work in these conditions. With the madam gone, it’s just too hard for me. I…” Ms. Yoo shakes her head tearfully, a wrinkled hand placed over her chest where her heart is. “I’ve spent decades working in this house, master Kim, and I think it’s time I retire and spend some time with my grandchildren.”   Namjoon stares out the window, unable to work, unable to move.   His frustration overwhelms him.   “I won’t force you to stay, Ms. Yoo. Sohee and Jaesun will miss you, but you’ve done a lot for my family and I. We couldn’t thank you enough for your dedication and hard work over the years.”   He is calm and she bows her head before retreating.   You catch her in the corridor and she takes your hands, squeezing them and wishing you the best of luck with a sweet smile. After Ms. Yoo leaves, you wipe your hands against your collared dress.   You knock on the grandiose doors.    “Get out.”   Disregarding his command, you enter anyway. Namjoon is disgruntled, seated behind his desk in his leather chair, a finished glass of whiskey discarded on the side. His hands are clasped together, elbows propped on the surface and he leans his head on his fingers.   “What don’t you understand? Leave!”    But you approach him until you can press your hands on the edge of his desk and lean forward.   The once powerful man established in his wealth looks up at you, dark circles deepening, the wrinkle between his brows made permanent. He stares at you as if you’re a fearsome curse, a bothersome pest, a fiend. And you have to resist the delicious smirk that tickles your lips.    “You did this to me,” he mutters, simmering in animosity. “You destroyed me.”   You round the oak furniture and plop down onto his lap. Before he can shove you off, you grab his hair from the back of his head, letting the strands thread through your fingers, and you pull.   He groans, chin lifting up.   “You were the one who made the decision,” you tell him. “It’s you who became weak. You thought about me and even now, you still want me.” The edge of your mouth tilts and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat before you lean in, whispering in his ear, “You can’t stop thinking about me, can you, Namjoon?”   “You’re a vixen.”   “Oh, I’m much more than that.”   You end up sinking to your knees and taking him to the back of your throat. He cums there, the taste salty and consistency thick — a kind of bitterness that you’ve learnt to find savoury. And Namjoon cums again in your tight cunt when you’re bent over his desk and he’s pounding into you, fucking you hard enough to feel his anger and for your ass to bruise against his pelvis.   “N-Namjoon, it feels so good.”   “Shut the fuck up, slut.” He sweats at his hairline, holding your hips and jostling you around as he chases his own release. You look across the room to the family portrait above the mantle and smirk to yourself. “I-I’ll spank your cunt again.”   He couldn’t even scold you. He couldn’t blame you for ruining his marriage.   You have him wrapped around your finger.   //   The photograph captured a moment of Namjoon holding newborn Jaesun, Yijin smiling with her arm looped around Sohee who was only eleven at the time. They’re in front of the house with Ms. Yoo beside them wearing a grin. She remembers that day, the family barbecue outside, the laughter and joyous atmosphere. Yet now, Ms. Yoo only sighs to herself and packs the framed picture into her duffle bag.   “You’re still here?”    Your voice nearly startles the old woman to death. She jumps and turns around, finding you at the doorway. “Yes, I was just finishing up. I didn’t realize I had so many belongings. I guess this is what thirty years gives you.”   Ms. Yoo takes a gander around the room, what was her home, then to you. She never once notices Namjoon’s cum dripping down your thigh from your messy and puffed center that still delightfully aches.   “I’m going to miss this place.”   “Or you could always stay.” Not wanting to waste any more time, you take three strides and your mouth presses against hers. The older woman is shocked, eyes widened at your kiss, but you inhale.   She goes limp against you. Her soul taken right from her. And Ms. Yoo collapses to the ground.   You shudder at the taste, at how your guts coil inwards. It’s terribly bland.    Her soul isn’t half of what it takes to satisfy you.    Not like you’re surprised. As a succubus who’s meant to entice mortal men, male souls are the desirable ones.   You wait for Taehyung to come pick up the corpse, but he never shows up and you curse him. He always finds a way to show his face and steal the good souls away from you, satisfying his own appetite and leaving the scraps left for you. But when it comes to souls that are bland to you and therefore bland to him, suddenly he has no business manifesting himself.   You kick Ms. Yoo’s lifeless body and having no other options, you roll her heavy body with the rectangular carpet. You start sweating as you heave her up. But with enough effort, you manage to stuff her in the closet and shut the doors.   Someone will deal with that later.   //   It’s amusing. Namjoon does everything within his power to act like nothing’s changed. That nothing’s happened and he isn’t missing his wife or housekeeper in his home. He grabs onto any semblance of normalcy, perhaps to cope with the changes of the past twenty four hours.   He calls for dinner to be set at the usual time and you’re thankful Ms. Yoo made sure the fridge was stocked up before she was to leave. All you do is slap the container food into bowls and heat them in the microwave before setting the table as you usually do.   The entire family gathers around the table — Sohee, Jaesun, Namjoon and even Yoongi.   “Y/N will be joining us for dinner,” Namjoon suddenly announces as you set down the last bowl. Your brow raises and Yoongi’s eyes round but no one questions it.    Not even Jaesun who often throws tantrums. The kid merely pouts. Never once lifting his spoon of rice into his mouth, putting on a defiant act, but you don’t care. If the brat wants to starve, he can starve.   You sit down beside Namjoon, across from Yoongi and diagonal to Sohee.   It’s tense at the table, the silence suffocating those around it. But you settle in comfortably and even pass some side dishes directly into Sohee’s bowl that you know she likes. Her eyes flicker up to you and a tiny smile tugs on her face. “Thank you.”   Namjoon clears his throat and looks to his brother. “You were working on editing a science textbook, right?”   “Biology,” Yoongi answers shortly. “For grade eight students.”   “And how is that coming along?”   They continue their conversation, making some small talk and you chew in your cheek while your foot lifts underneath the table. Your leg stretches and it grazes along the leg of the man across from you.    Yoongi immediately freezes. His brown eyes pool close to black and he glares. But you don’t let up, stroking the inside of his leg as you eat and look away from him. Yoongi pushes away. You scoot yourself forward. He tries not to draw attention to himself. Asked another question, he gives half a mind to responding.    Your toes slowly travel up to his thighs and then they tickle and twitch against his crotch.   Yoongi’s breath staccatos.    No one knows that you’re playing footsies with Yoongi underneath the table. That you can feel the way he hardens against his sweatpants.    “What game do you think you’re playing?!” he harshly whispers after dinner when the two of you are away from the others. Yoongi corners you, his good looks sadly marred by his twisted expression.   You blink, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”   But the little act doesn’t faze him. You knew it wouldn’t work the second you met the man.   “I know you have something to do with Yijin leaving.”   “I didn’t do anything, Yoongi.” You grab his shoulders, pulling him closer until his body is pressed against yours and you grin, breath skimming along his neck. “The dominoes were already in place long before I came here. You know that too. I just needed to give it a little push,” you exhale the word and he can’t stop himself from swallowing hard. From staring at you.   He eventually musters enough self-control to push you away and leave.   You turn the corner, the darkness enveloping the corridor and bringing a sort of eeriness. But it might just be from Taehyung who you find leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed and he’s smirking. “Aren’t you having a little too much fun, peach?”   “This is the best part.” You loll your head to one side. “Sometimes playing with your food before you eat it makes it much more appetizing.”   He laughs, chuckling from his chest and the sound tinkles. “I taught you well.”   Taehyung pushes himself off the surface and as he passes by you, he taps your butt.    He disappears seconds later, leaving you on your lonesome to keep playing.   //   Everything is falling into place.   It’s like you’re playing chess without an opponent, simply arranging your pawns as you’d like on the board. But because of how effortless and simple it is, it’s easy to get bored.   One day you’re waking up to a blaring alarm clock and slaving after the whims of humans as their servant and the next, you wake beside Namjoon in the master bedroom, having taken the madam’s place. You slept on her sheets, on her pillow, beside her husband.    There’s nothing fun about it anymore once you’ve won.   You roll over to straddle Namjoon’s hips, placing his morning wood right under your center. He’s shaken awake by the movement and groans, rough hands instinctively coming to grab your ass.    “W-What time is it?” his voice is still thick with sleep and you smile devilishly, rubbing your clit through your silk slip that barely covers your nipples. Your pink cunt is still swollen from last night’s endeavours, but you think one last one ought to be enough.    You won’t miss his cock after this.   “You were dreaming about me, weren’t you, Namjoon?” you whisper and before he can respond, your hands reach out, wrapping around his neck.   He’s completely at your mercy.   The man slowly blinks awake, coming to consciousness and a staggering exhale leaves his mouth as you position the bulborous head of his shaft to your folds. He mumbles something about how insatiable you are and lightly chuckles. But Namjoon should consider himself lucky. It’s not often you let the same human fuck you three times.   He pounds into you, hips lifting off the mattress. The stretch of your pussy is rather pleasing, but with the repetitiveness, your mind wanders and your hands around his neck tighten. You cut off Namjoon’s airway and his eyes slam shut with a loud groan. You can practically feel his cock twitch inside of you.   Unfortunately, the man loses it all too soon. It’s a bit amateurish for someone as experienced and punishing as he is, but you don’t blame him. Well...only a little as you lean down and capture your mouth with Namjoon’s before inhaling sharply.   Out of the three times you spread your legs for him and the numerous times you let his cum leak out of your pussy and drip down your thighs, he only made you cum once.   It’s kind of sad. Selfish.   Once you’re done with him, he falls back.    You hum to yourself as you climb off the man’s used dick and move to the vanity across the luxurious bedroom. You freshen up and pin up your hair, allowing a few strands to frame your face. After you’re satisfied, you grab Yijin’s shawl to cover your top half and you stride down the hall to Yoongi’s door.   He’s at his desk as usual, red pen in hand, crouched over a stack of papers.   But the curtains aren’t drawn, allowing the bright sunlight through his modest room.   “Mornin’.”   He turns around, brow raised, eyeing how you’re leaning against the door frame, casually greeting him in spite of being dressed in a measly scrap of fabric. “What are you doing?”   You quirk your head. “Something we should’ve done a long time ago.”   “And what is that?”   “Hmmm, I think you know, Yoongi.” You flick a piece of dirt from underneath your fingernail. “Let’s not drag this on for any longer than we have to.”   You stay ambiguous and he maintains an impassive expression. But his stoicness has no effect to deter you when you smile and approach him slowly. “You know, I was once like you. Complacent. Quiet. A little like Sohee too, maybe even more naive than she is right now.”   “Once?”   “A long time ago,” you hum. “I was going to get married to a bad, bad man until I became liberated.”   You come close enough to grab a fistful of his hair at the back of his head. His head tilts upwards when you tug, powerless to your enchantment. “It’s okay to give in, Yoongi,” you whisper against his skin. “It’s okay to be selfish and indulgent. You’ve done so well up to now.”   “What makes you think I’ll sleep with my brother’s mistress?” he asks in a harsher tone. “The whore that ruined his entire family.”   You laugh. “That’s not very nice.”   “But isn’t it the truth?”   “It is. But I’m supposed to be irresistible to men. Your restraint is impressive, Yoongi, but it’s only natural that you give into your primitive needs or at least be honest with yourself. You dream about me, don’t you?” The ongoing silence makes your grin widen and your eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight. “You’ve fantasized about me a lot. You want me.”   You lower yourself, hooded eyes connected with his. Your hair is messy, yet not in a disoriented way from sleeping. Yoongi smell it on you too — the sweat and musty scent. “You fucked my brother.”   “And I can fuck you too.”   You surge forward, capturing his mouth with your own.    It’s different. Languid with the soft caresses of tongue, his lips not chapped but puffy. The kiss is slow and lazy. Not eager like Jungkook but not as rough as Namjoon. Yoongi sighs, savouring and truly enjoying it, and it’s something you lean into.   You match his speed and rhythm and once you pull away, his eyes are hazy.   Yoongi pants, swallowing hard. “Who...are you?”   “Secret,” you sing-song and pull him towards you. The two of you nearly fall to the floor, though his bed is close enough in his small room that you collide against the mattress. The man hovers over you and you hold his arms in a vice grip. Cocking your head to the side, you giggle. “This is fun, isn’t it?”   “You’re a heathen.”   “Not quite, but close enough.” You grin and kiss him again. It feels good to.   Not long after that, you’re beneath him and he’s bare, quiet without a single moan. His cock draws deep into you leisurely, languid rolls that’s not necessarily chasing for an end but relishing in the pleasure.   “I was never going to fuck you,” Yoongi murmurs. “Even if I wanted to.”   You pout. “Why not?”   “Because I have dignity and respect for myself.”   You scoff. “Guess you lost all that.”   “No. I still do.” His voice is husky around the edges. “But if I give you what you want, maybe I’ll understand your intentions better.”   The corner of your mouth curls and your hips lift to meet Yoongi’s. You squeeze around him just to tease. “And what do you think my intentions are?”   “I-I still don’t know yet.” He sweats, hips sped up and then keeps a constant rhythm. “Why do you do the things that you do? Why did you try to tear this house apart? Gain Sohee’s favour.” Yoongi’s brown eyes pierce into you. He’s a perceptive man. “You don’t love Namjoon. I don’t think you loved Jungkook either.”   “Jungkook?”   “He would’ve never left like that out of his own free will.”   “You’re smart,” you coo affectionately and run your hands through his fluffy hair. It’s such a shame he’s just a mortal. “I promise you’ll know by the end of this, Yoongi.”   Another minute passes and Yoongi pulls out. You watch as he pumps himself thrice and finishes on your stomach with a quiet grunt, cum painting all over your flesh. You’re about to grab his shoulder to kiss him, but he parts your thighs and lowers himself. His mouth attaches to your cunt, forcing his wet tongue inside your used hole and he eats you out, licking at the juices that leak out of you.   But he remains meticulous and careful, drawing unrestrained moans from your lungs.   “S-So good…”   Yoongi works you up until you feel hot all over your body and your hands have sunk into his head of hair, threading through the strands. As if that wasn’t enough, he sucks on your clit and inserts his index into your walls. He sinks deep and curls the finger against the perfect spot.   Your back arches and you cum all over his tongue.   He lets you ride it out against the stiff muscle and his plush lips before he’s lifting himself up, revealing all of your slick that’s coated his mouth and chin.    “Thank you,” you pant, chest heaving. You gaze at Yoongi with heavy lids and you sit up. “I’ll give you the answer to your questions. Who I am. Why I’m here.” You cradle his cheeks in your palms and you lean forward.   Yoongi’s eyes droop and he kisses you back, softly and deeply. You keep it slow too, savouring the taste of yourself on his palette and then, when the moment is right, you inhale.   His lids open slightly, feeling himself weaken. Yoongi’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion, but as your kiss continues, his surroundings blurs more. He groans at the back of his throat, wanting to pull away, but without having the strength to.   The world around him darkens. His consciousness lasts three seconds afterwards. Enough to realize you’re a monster.   Yoongi’s body falls back onto the mattress.   His soul has been consumed by you and as tasty as it was, you’re a bit regretful. You pull the plush blanket up to give him some modesty and you ruffle your fingers through his bangs. “Truthfully, I liked you the best in this house.”   The sadness lasts another second before you’re humming and climbing off the bed.   The job is finally done and you roll your shoulders, walking out the room. As you do so, your exterior finally sheds of your human disguise into your true form. While your face remains the same, your lips redden and your hair becomes luscious and longer, draping your backside. The white, silk slip morphs to a dress in the blinding shade of crimson. It hugs your body, from the dip of your waist to the swell of your breasts. And at the crown of your head, two small horns manifest.   Downstairs, Taehyung is standing on the porch. He turns as you join his side and smirks. “About time you finished, peach.”   He’s been watching Jaesun. The five year old is running around the backyard underneath the sun and flinging around the toys his wealthy parents got for him. He’s completely oblivious to the situation and unquestioning to Taehyung’s presence.   Taehyung is the tamer of all brats after all.   “Didn’t you say I could take my time to have fun?”   “I think you’ve been having too much fun.”   The corner of your reddened lips pull. “I don’t think so.”   “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself though.” He lolls his head over and grabs a hold of your chin. Taehyung leans himself down to your height and comes forward for an invasive kiss.   Without warning, he licks into your mouth and you moan helplessly, completely at his mercy. Taehyung’s tongue is sticky as he tastes you, calm yet impatient. It’s a pleasant kind of intimacy as he steals your breath. But when he starts to inhale deep, you bite him.   Taehyung pulls back with a grin, the bottom of his lip split slightly.   You pout. “You should at least give me some. I worked hard for those souls, you know.”   He gives you a look. “Did you really?”   “More work than usual,” you bite back.   A black cat mewls at Jaesun. The kid swivels his head over, fascination growing as the feline hops from the fence to the grass gracefully as if inviting him to play. The cat has a short but luscious coat and its tail curls, green eyes wide. Jaesun instantly drops the ball he’s holding.   His greedy hands extend and he follows the cat behind some bushes.   There’s a flash of bright light and Jimin stretches himself out from his feline form. He cracks his bones and leans over, interrupting your conversation. “Thanks for the kid, Tae.”   Taehyung waves. “No problem, Chim.”

Sohee wakes up to a silent house.   There’s a strangeness in the air, a certain uneasy feeling in her body, but she dresses herself and continues her morning. It’s when the peace is ongoing that she searches for people, for her father first.   She screams when she discovers Namjoon on the bed lifeless. No matter how much she shakes him or calls out his name, he never moves or twitches. He doesn’t breathe.   The girl cries and runs to her uncle for help. But he, too, isn’t sleeping and isn’t resting like he appears to be. The man’s skin has gone cold, eyes shut tight, his lips pale.   She cups a hand over her mouth, silencing a sob in the eerie house and she stumbles down the steps. There’s only one person left. One person to help her. And she sees you through the back door on the porch. Standing next to a tall man.   Sohee’s confusion stops her tears while hiccups continue to wrack through her body.   “W-Who are you?”   The two of you turn at the sound of her voice.   Taehyung grins. “Oh. Nice to see you again, little girl. Remember me?”   Sohee’s eyes are swollen, cheeks stained with saltwater. Her body trembles as she grips the door frame. You coo at her, stepping forward with your arms open but she flinches. “W-What did you do to them?”   You sigh, arms dropping to your side, yet your voice remains tender. “They got what they deserved, Sohee.”   “W-W...h..at?”   “They succumbed to their primitive desires and suffered the punishment for it.”   “This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” Taehyung’s brow cocks and he smiles at her. “You were the one who summoned me here in the first place.”   Confusion is marked across her visage — brows furrowed, mouth lopsided.    But it was Sohee that called out to you and Taehyung. She was the one who began your assignment. She was the one who invited the pair of you into her home. Practically opened the door and ushered you in desperately.   “All those nights of prayer, did you really think God would grant you such evil wishes to get rid of your family? You were praying to the devil, little girl.”   Incubi and succubi like you and Taehyung need invitations to enter an abode. Yet Sohee handed the both of you that on a silver platter. Taehyung might’ve assigned the task to you, but it was a win-win. Not only could you grant her wish, but you could reap all the benefits by stealing the souls of her family members and indulging in their lust.   “All those nights of wishing your mother would get hit by a car. That your brother would cease to exist. That your father would fail his business….”   It was a victory from the start.   You give Sohee a moment since it looks like she needs it. It’s understandably shocking. You were once in her position after all and just as surprised. But the realization seems to sink into her with the way her eyes widen. “I-I didn’t know this is what would happen!”   “You wanted an escape from your life,” you say to her in excitement. There was one more benefit to this ordeal too — just as Taehyung has you, Sohee will become yours. “This is it, sweetheart.”   If you didn’t know you would get such an endearing subordinate from all this, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of it all. But ‘subordinate’ and ‘underling’ are such unpleasant words Taehyung uses. Sohee’s more like a little puppy for you to love, mentor and show around.   “Come with us.” You extend your hand, palm open to the sky. “We came all the way here for you.”   Sohee looks at both you and him, brows furrowed, hesitation evident. “What will happen to me?”   “You want to be like me, don’t you?” You smile at her along with Taehyung who remains patient. “I’ll take care of you and so will Taehyung. What else does this place have to offer you?”   This is the true game of temptation.   No one is ever forced into making a deal with the devil. It’s a choice. And one she takes.   The girl lifts her arm, taking your hand. A bigger smile pulls on your features.    And just like that, the three of you vanish together.

[ciggylungz]

Rivals

Summary: Y/n and Harry are both CEO’s of their parent’s companies since they inherited the businesses from them, they’ve been rivals since they were kids- now that they’re professional adults how will their rivalry affect them?   2.2k

 -

It’s no secret that growing up with a workaholic parent is hard for a kid, but for Y/n it was amplified due to the fact both her parents owned one of the most famous fashion companies in the world. This meant during most of her childhood she relied on nannies, private drivers, maids and child minders to care for her in absence of her busy working parents.

Of course having absent parents gave her some perks during her teen years, the ability to throw ragers in the absurdly large mansion they’d bought for the three of them –(well, they were hardly in it so mainly just their daughter)- not having to worry about getting caught when she decided to bring people over to get a quick shag in and the plus of having no one to bother her during her angsty middle school years. Those things were nice, yet you really can’t replace the role of your parents with teenage hookups and parties.

If there’s one thing that she absolutely hated about her parents work, it would be their former business partners cunt of a son. Harry Styles. Y/n had been forced to be in the twats life since they were 10 and his father joined stocks in her parents company before investing fully and becoming business partners. For Y/n that meant being forced to be around their son whenever their parents were too busy crushing numbers or out on boozy business trips clogging their noses with high end coke and buying out their competitors.

Harry was always a good-looking boy, and that only made things worse because he was a total prick. He was arrogant, annoying and always got away with being the biggest pain in the ass y/n has ever experienced in her life. He was insanely competitive, cocky and always found a way to weasel into Y/n’s business just to push her buttons. One’s he knew how to push perfectly to make her want to pound his head off a blacktop.

It was almost as if when it came to Y/n he never matured past being a 12-year-old boy, and now he’s a 23 year old powerful business man who still can’t manage to leave her alone.

Y/n had inherited her parents’ company when they decided to retire, two years before the retirement her parents and Harrys father had severed their ties and he’d gone back to his independent company. And just y/n’s luck, the man passed his roll as CEO down to his son, making the two young adults’ owners of two of the most famous fashion and beauty companies to ever exist.

Make no mistake, Y/n was a strong, independent and ruthless business woman so Harry’s subsequent inheritance didn’t threaten her in a business sense it more so made her worried for her blood pressure since the man couldn’t help but come bother her every chance he got. It didn’t help his dad had a single remaining stock left in the shoe portion of their clothing company giving Harry the perfect excuse to come barging into Y/n’s office to get on her nerves. To Y/n Harrys like a cold sore that won’t go away, just keeps coming back every time you think you’ve gotten rid of it.

___

Today was a busy day for Y/n, she had a meeting with her team that worked closely with her managing profit, stock, inventory, sales and all that stuff. Her team was large, with a company with over two thousand distributors worldwide and thirty-five exclusive stores scattered around the globe that’s to be expected. All in all, Y/n was responsible for making sure all one hundred and fifty thousand employees were running a smooth ship and every participating party was doing what they needed to do. It was a stressful job no doubt, but she never backed down from the challenge.

The meetings were always her least favorite part of her job. All the paper work that had to be read, numbers calculated, sales charted and any complaints or incident reports all had to be verbalized and talked about in detail with documentation of all the important things said as well as much more. Today the meeting took a grueling four and a half hours and the day was far from over.

Once she got out of her meeting it was nearing noon, she had to push her lunch off to phone the companies attorneys because one worker was trying to do a fake insurance claim. The man faked a work accident failing to remember every warehouse and factory was littered with security cameras that caught him in the act, so she had to inform them of the situation so they could sort it out. After that she got sucked into looking at new designs her design team had come up with for the next season, explaining that Chanel and Gucci both wanted to work with them to carry a few exclusive items only for that season.

Finally, at half passed two she made it back to her office, sitting down in her desk chair while taking her hair out of the headache inducing ponytail it had been in since she got there at five that morning. She opened her laptop, planning to send off some emails while she put in her order for lunch to her assistant, getting as much done as she could in the little bit of private time she was able to snag.

A knock sounded at the door, she knew it was Morgan coming in with the food she ordered so she didn’t bother to look up from what she was doing very drawn in to the email she was currently formatting. Only her attention was quickly severed when his voice rang out instead of the one she expected.

“I believe you ordered the chop salad, diet coke and fruit for lunch misses Yln.”

That annoying, cocky voice. You can hear his shit eating grin and teasing eyes simply in his tone, you don’t even have to look up at the jerk.

A prolonged sigh blew out of her lips, a grunt of annoyance following as she looked up at him. He looked nice, as always, she added bitterly in her own mind. She hated the fact someone so goddamn irritating was so undeniably attractive. He wore a dark blue suit, white button up with a black tie and yellow accent pocket square. Yet his fashion and handsomeness seemed a bit overshadowed by his personality that had the same affect on the woman as nails on a chalkboard.

“Harry, to what do I owe the displeasure?” Y/n reached her arm across the desk to snatch the paper bag from his ring clad hands, a sarcastic disapproving finger was pointed at her yet she didn’t take his bait opting to give him the death stare instead.

“Sassy today are we?” The man rested himself on the small leather loveseat that was in her office, propping his head on a throw pillow and putting his feet on the armrest. “You act like you’re not happy to see me, I know yeh missed me.” Y/n rolled her eyes, digging her fork into the salad aggressively. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been happy to see you, and I’m certain no one has ever missed your presence either.”

Harry chuckled slightly, loving how easily he could annoy the girl. Over the past thirteen years he’s learned just how to get under her skin, and he enjoyed doing so.

“Bit feisty today aren’t yeh Y/n? playing hard to get I see.” The man folded his hands on top of his chest, completely relaxing into the comfortable furniture, making himself comfortable for the undetermined amount of time he’d be spending there irritating his childhood ‘friend’.

The difference between Harry and Y/n’s perspectives on their rather odd ‘relationship’, if you could really call it that is Harry never hated Y/n. In fact he was always quite fond of her, he enjoys her company even when he’s forcing it on her and using the shared time to annoy the ever loving shit out of her. He and the woman have always been competitive growing up. In sports, card games, classes, and now business and Y/n took things a lot more seriously then he did. she was always wound a bit tight, she gets it from her mother.

Harry and Y/n had an interesting past. They have a love-hate relationship, seeing as even through the perpetual animosity they’ve carried since they were kids they did have their good moments too. And though Y/n would never admit it, there’s a part of her that does actually care about him even if she loathes that part of her deeply. In their teens they were at each other throats a lot, but in between that they would occasionally have their good days where they would refrain from getting into screaming matches and instead would be able to tolerate being together. Y/n chooses to describe it as tolerating him since she’d never admit she sometimes enjoys his company.

Through their formative years whenever Y/n was throwing a party, she wouldn’t protest when her friends would invite Harry as well. Pretending like she didn’t know he was coming and didn’t want him there when she saw him in the crowd, yet he always had a feeling she was anticipating and secretly wanted him to make an appearance. When he’d plan some sort of adventure with their friends he’d do the same, always slightly relieved when she’d show up but he’d put on the irritating act as soon as he got the chance which ruined her mood, every time. and well, it would be a lie to say the two never found themselves hate fucking each other after one of their parties, drunk and pissed at each other only to pretend like it had never happened.

To Harry, the animosity mixed with a hidden sense of fondness and maybe even a hint of attraction.

The woman ignored his comment, chewing her food before taking a swig of the soda looking back at him with a rather unamused expression. “What do you want Harry? And who the hell even let you in here?” she continued eating and wrapping up her email while he formed his reply. “Told Morgan I’d bring it up to yeh, she’s got a bit of a crush on me so she handed it over without much convincing.” Yet another eyeroll from Y/n was delivered. “She’s like 19, don’t manipulate her into worming into my office just because she can’t see that you’re a much bigger prick then the one in your pants will ever be.”

“First of all, 19 is legal so if she wants to eye fuck me I’ll allow it. Second, don’t be rude. This is a professional setting, do you think it’s appropriate to talk about my genitals in the work place? Might have to report you.”

Y/n couldn’t help the small snort she let out at his antics. As much as he annoyed her, sometimes she did find him a bit humorous. “and for the record, I’m very happy with my package and I don’t appreciate that comment.” He pointed a finger at her, a fake angry look on his face. “Just as much as I don’t appreciate you intruding on what was supposed to be my down time to eat, we’re even shrimp dick.”

Harry gasped at the insult, squinting at her slightly. While Harry was skilled in pressing her buttons, she could do it the same. Making comments on his dick size, sex skills, business deals or things of that nature always got him riled up. That 12-year-old boy mentality rearing it’s ugly head any time she makes a comment about his dick being small. Childish he was, absolutely childish.

“Don’t get smart with me, I’ll whip it out right here to prove my point.” His eyebrow raised and she could see him chewing on his cheek in annoyance. She truly found it funny how peeved she could make a grown man by making fun of his penis. He was ridiculous.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t, I didn’t bring my mental scrub brush to work with me today.” When she had finished speaking the woman tossed her now empty salad box into the trash, taking another sip of her drink and finally sending off the painfully long email.

Harry decided it was time for him to head back to his own office, which was right across the street much to Y/n’s displeasure but of course he couldn’t leave without a final childish jab at the woman.

“Just remember, I’ve had you bouncing on my dick more than once. Don’t hold yourself so high and mighty dear, because we both know I’ll have you like that again.”

And with that a Harry with a cheeky smirk on his face left the office, leaving a slightly stunned Y/n in his wake.

 (eek pt.1 lets see how this one goes.)

[ice-icebaby]

I really had a hard time here HAHAHA!!

So first I am Luna!! 25, living a stressed life as a medical practitioner. 😂

My pronouns are she/her and I live for anything purple and black. I have a black hair and eyes I think and my hair is longgg up to my waist

I am a morning person and I truly love sunrise than sunsets. Something about mornings just makes my day and my body just automatically wakes up at 5/6am. Caffeine is my blood. My tolerance to spicy and alcohol are high so I have no problem getting wasted😂 I have a bad sense of humor u know that but I am a big hoarder for nendoroids and books. I live alone so I can say I’m a pretty good cook. I love cats and dogs. PAIR ME UP FROM NARUTO/FRUITS BASKET FANDOM

Hi luna💜 This is my first write up aaaaaaaaa.Okay here goes. Congratulations on your 1k and I really wanted to give you a present ..Hope it brings a smile on your face. @gmoonlight01 and . Pure Fluffff✨

NARUTO:

I would pair you with IRUKA✨.

You guys meet up when you go to academy once to take a special guest lecture. The pre genin chibi kids love you so much they keep asking sensei to bring you back "the beautiful miss medical nin" for more classes. You don't even realise when you start coming to the academy 3 days in a week. Long Staff room grading session turn into midnight ramen dates and sake karaoke when Iruka realises that he is inexplicably but surely falling for you. You catch yourself accidently staring into his honey gold eyes for a little too long as if you are drowning in them and forgetting to breathe. Morning sunrises often found you making a bento box for two. Even students notice him give them a moon shaped sticker for their good efforts instead of the usual smiling ninja ones. His surprised glow up everytimeat seeing the food and his smile afterwards made lunch time the highlight of the day. Apart from catching him stealing glances at you mid sparring practises

You had been on a 2week long mission that had extended by 5 day due to surprise enemy attack. As soon as you completed giving your mission reports ,some of the pre genin had flocked and dragged you to the academy. That evening you found yourself still on academy training ground teaching. You could feel yourself getting chakra depleted as last of your students packed up and went back home. The only thing on your mind was some sound sleep mad good food with Iruka. You shook the thought from your mind and headed back to towards the staffroom. You saw the ground slowly coming towards you, smell of sweat and dirt almost sticking to you when you felt someone lift you off the ground and onto their back.

The next time you opened your eyes you were in the staff room on a makeshift bed out of tables and scrolls. You woke up to see him fast asleep on a chair near you. Head dropping to one side and one eye almost covered with his head band like his friend kakashi-san. You still don't know to this date what came over you as you reached to him in one stride, cupping his cheek and tucking away the loose hairs from his face. His face looked so pure,so real, so close like All the worries and stress from the academic life, the hardships of shinobi life had been left behind in a far-off land. You absentmindedly brushed his deep brown locks and It all came rushing back to you.

The scent of chalk and wood that you were engulfed with. That feeling of reliability you got when his hands lifted you, how your chest filled with warmth and security as soon as he bought you near and how his pounding heart and panic stricken voice conveyed to you what you deep down already knew.

That, IRUKA UMINO, should be arrested immidiately...

For stealing your heart.

Punishment: A lifetime of love

With you.

[ishgard]

Nabbing up this meme + my answers from twitter to post here!

1. what's their favorite beverage - alcoholic and/or non-alcoholic?

She's pretty simple with alcohol: give her anything fruity and/or sweet and she's set, it's a bit cliche but sex on the beach has a 'special' memory attached. Same with non-alcoholic drinks really, she loves Shirley temples, fruity teas and lemonades, and super sweet coffee drinks.

2. what's their favorite flavor? (spicy, sweet, sour, etc)

Mana will eat just about anything, she's very eager to try new foods (whether she thinks she'll like them or not) - but she does ESPECIALLY love sweet foods of any kind. She's also pretty much got that crazy anime, Usagi/Goku kind of appetite/stomach going on.

3. what's their favorite food?

She has such a deep love for food in general it's hard to nail one thing down. Some honorable mentions would be souffle pancakes, and just about any sweet apple baked good, crepes, fresh fruits, and mochi. (...I swear she does love foods other than sweets, like big juicy burgers and pizza.)

4. breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks - which do they look forward to the most?

All of the above. She LOVES a good breakfast spread though, (missing from #3: breakfast sandwiches!!!) and dessert (obvious by now, surely) places pretty high.

5. do they have a food or flavor they absolutely hate?

For a while she really disliked apple-based foods because she ate a LOT of them as a kid, but she's come back around to loving them. Otherwise, not the biggest fan of avocado (mostly a texture thing) or cottage cheese, and celery can only be in soup/stew or covered in peanut butter and raisins.

6. can they tolerate spicy food?

She doesn't have a very HIGH tolerance, but she does enjoy food that has some kick to it. But not a fan of say, spicy food SOLELY for the sake of spiciness, she's not just drenching her food in hot sauce for the thrill of it, but wants it to be a part of a wider variety of tastes.

7. what is their favorite animal?

Rabbits! She also really likes cats, foxes, and snakes, but rabbits are a big 'personal' animal for her. (Modern AU she wears some cute-ass rabbit headphones while streaming.) As far as 'image' animal goes, it's almost a little verse dependent, or as she's been told: 'You play the part of the rabbit, but you're really quite the clever little fox.'

8. what do they wear to bed?

Anything from long shirts/nightgowns, pajama shorts+tank tops, to just her underwear or sleeping in the nude if it's really hot out. She absolutely owns (at least) one of these, too, mostly for lounging around.

9. what position do they like to sleep in?

She moves a lot in her sleep, but can typically be found starfishing or curled up in a ball. Alternatively, wrapped around one of her many pillows, or (more preferably), Belial. In the latter case, there's zero regard for temperature, even if she's hot and sweaty and miserable good luck prying her off of him.

10. are they a morning person or a night owl?

While Mana is naturally more of an early bird, she also loves the night time and stargazing, and just the solitude the night often brings, so sometimes it's all down to day-to-day moods and vibes.

11. are they a heavy sleeper or do they wake up easily?

Generally a pretty heavy sleeper, unless she's having pain or otherwise can't relax (whether anxious or excited). She can sleep through a lot when she's out though, for better or worse. (Bel usually doesn't have a hard time getting her up, though.)

12. it's a rainy day, what will they do cooped up inside all day?

........fuck around with Bel. >_> Otherwise, making treats in the kitchen, reading/writing letters, or just curled up with a book and watching the storm. ..Pretty much all of these will also end with fucking around with Bel (again) though.

If there's thunder, due to mild astraphobia, she might need to take something to help her relax, or listen to some music, but the above still applies for want of distractions.

13. do they have a favorite scent or smell?

Fresh baked goods, Belial, coffee, the smell of freshly warmed milk with cinnamon and honey.

14. what do they smell like? do they wear perfume or cologne?

If she hasn't been out fighting/traveling (thus smelling like the outdoors, campfire, flowers, sweat), she's likely to smell like something sweet; cinnamon, honey, or just whatever she's recently cooked. There's almost always a sweet apple-y smell around her no matter what.

15. baths or showers?

Baths! Long, luxurious, bubble-filled baths that ease all the aches and tensions. Bath time is relax and unwind time, a sacred art complete with bath salts, bath bombs, or maybe candlelit with some snacks and wine, or a good fruit juice.

16. how good are they at cooking?

Very good! She loves to cook and bake, both for herself and especially for others, and enjoys trying out new recipes and techniques. It started out of necessity, cooking for herself and her brother, but she really grew to enjoy it seeing the way he'd light up, and also cuz she just loves to eat. Preparing holiday goodies for occasions like Valentines and White Day are favorite festivities of hers, and in modern au she works at a bakery.

17. what's their favorite time of the year and why?

While she enjoys all of the seasons for different reasons, she probably enjoys spring and summer the most. She likes being outside, enjoying the air, and especially loves going to the beach.

18. do they have a favorite holiday?

Halloween and Christmas (and their varying fantasy equivalents) for sure. Halloween is perfect for her, between her sweet tooth and love of mischief-making. Meanwhile for Christmas she typically goes all out preparing seasonal foods and gifts for friends.

19. do they prefer buying ore receiving gifts?

She wouldn't be ashamed to say both. 'Who doesn't love receiving gifts?' after all, though she can get a little flustered if it starts to edge towards spoiling her. Her gift-giving can range from 'very good', choosing the perfect gift for the individual, to... outlandishly questionable (or at least humorous) - though, no less thoughtful, necessarily.

20. how tall are they, and how do they feel about their height?

She stands around 5'2", and typically doesn't think much of her height or 'lack thereof'. Except, say, when she's trying to get something off of the highest shelves and cupboards, though that usually just means she gets to climb on the counters.

[cuddlepilefics]

Milky

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie/Little: Hyunjin (age 3-5)

Caregiver: Jisung (daddy), Jeongin (appa)

 Noone’s POV.:

Hyunjin loved his two caregivers dearly, Jisung and Jeongin were always so gentle and patient with him and took care of the dancer with their whole hearts. However, the oldest of the trio was still used to considering his time in headspace as his ‘me-time’, so he really enjoyed the times he’d be at the dorm alone. Today was no exception, they had a day off and knowing how busy they had been recently, the caretakers offered to stay at the dorm with Hyunjin to let him regress, while the rest of Stray Kids would head out and enjoy the early spring weather. The dancer refused because he knew how much the younger two had been looking forward to their off day, to go shopping and to get pastries at a café close by. Yes, he planned to regress but he’d be fine to do that on his own, he had been taking care of his little self until a few months ago. He sat on the couch scrolling through social media and waiting for his members to leave. Hyunjin felt the couch dip beside him before Jisung’s voice pulled him from his thoughts: “Hey, are you sure you want to stay here by yourself? You haven’t regressed in a while and we could have some relaxing family time.” – “Sung, I’m fine really. You should go soon or the others will leave without you”, the dancer put on a smile although his dongsaeng’s offer sounded tempting. “Are planning on being little? I know Innie is excited to go out but I’d really have no issue with staying here”, the rapper questioned, chewing on his lip, “I have a bad feeling about leaving you by yourself when you’re in headspace.” Hyunjin chuckled at his friend’s protectiveness, he could still remember the times when they didn’t get along at all. “It’s alright, I’m not planning on regressing”, he lied, “I just want to catch up on some anime series and maybe take a nap.” Noticing Jisung’s conflicted expression, he added: “And yes, I’m sure. Go Sungie, everyone else is waiting for you.”

Not even five minutes later, Hyunjin was alone. Unlike what he had told his friend, he immediately waddled to his room to change into an oversized hoodie and overalls. Jeongin had gifted him a cute baby pink paci after becoming his caregiver, which the dancer happily sucked on while digging through the box under his bed in search of crayons and his coloring book. It took him a while to pull the items from the bottom of the box because he could only use one had to get them out, his other hand was clutching the fuzzy cream-colored teddy, Jisung had brought home one evening to make up for spending all day at the studio leaving the little at home by himself. That had been during the times, that Jisung used to be his only caregiver. Ever since Jeongin joined the rapper in taking care of their little friend, Hyunjin had only regressed with at least one of his caregivers around. When he finally managed to get his coloring book and the box of crayons out, the little squealed happily, almost dropping his paci in the process. He caught it by quickly slapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide before exhaling in relief that his beloved comfort item was still between his lips. Trying to fit all his things into his hands, the dancer waddled to the common area of the dorm and dropped everything on the dining table before pulling a chair out and sitting down cross-legged. The teddy found its place in Hyunjin’s lap from where it could watch him color and the dancer got to work on a fresh page of his coloring book.

The little happily colored away, not a care in the world. He had just finished his third drawing when his stomach growled. Looking down in shock, Hyunjin placed a hand on his stomach. He just now realized how hungry he had gotten, having lost track of time, the dancer didn’t know if it was time for lunch already but he also didn’t really care. Coloring was hard work and he had definitely earned himself some food. The dancer had relaxed so much that he had slipped into his younger headspace and his plan of having some fruit with a sippy of apple juice suddenly turned out to be more difficult than expected. Usually his caregivers sliced the fruit for him, although in the older range of his headspace, Hyunjin would manage to do that himself. Now, being in the youngest range of his headspace, the little was terrified of knives and even more terrified of hurting himself while being alone. Deep in thought, the dancer chewed on his teddy’s ear, paci abandoned next to the box of crayons. He always chewed his teddy’s ear when he needed to think, only the right one though, which already looked a bit frayed. The image of his bottle suddenly popped into his head, eyes lighting up. “Milky!”, the little exclaimed, scrambling up to get his bottle and dropping his teddy in the process. Hyunjin froze, looking extremely guilty as he crouched down to pick up the stuffed bear. Stroking the soft fabric, he mumbled: “Jinnie, weally sowwy. Nuh wan’ dwop chu.” With the bear clutched close to his chest, the dancer made his way back to his room and knelt down next to his box of little gear. A fond smile decorated his lips when he pulled out his bottle, but the smile soon turned into a clueless pout, looking at the container with formula. Not having prepared milk for himself in a long time, the little had forgotten how many scoops of formula his was supposed to use. Sure, he could call either of his caregivers and just ask but he wanted to take care of himself like a big boy, besides if they knew he was little, they would come home immediately and he really didn’t want to ruin their fun. Little Jinnie always hated being a burden.

Hyunjin decided to just look for some milk in the fridge and excitedly skipped to the kitchen. Setting his teddy and bottle down on the counter, he opened the fridge and smiled when he found a carton of strawberry milk. This sounded even better than his formula. For a second, the little got distracted, repeatedly shutting the fridge very slowly to see the light switch off, before forcing himself to focus as he poured the lightly pink milk into his bottle, using both hands and making sure to fill it to the very brim. Putting the milk carton away, got him into another cycle of opening and closing the fridge before he focused back on his bottle, screwing the top on without spilling anything. The milk smelled too tasty to be wasted by being clumsy. With his bottle and teddy in hand, Hyunjin waddled to the couch, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and cuddling up under it. He turned on the TV, switching channels till he found one of his favorite kids shows before settling in to start drinking his milk. The strawberry flavored drink was even yummier than he expected and he wondered why his caregivers never gave him any of it, instead letting him drink formula, that didn’t even really taste like milk. Slowly the little’s eyelids got heavier, sucking on his bottle always made him sleepy, and after setting the empty bottle on the coffee table, he fell asleep to the sounds of his cartoon playing.

His nap however didn’t last too long and the dancer was soon woken up by a twisting pain in his stomach. He looked down and carefully rubbed circles on his middle like his caregivers usually did when he had an upset stomach. It didn’t soothe the pain in the slightest, only causing his stomach to let out an angry gurgle. As high as Hyunjin’s pain tolerance was in his adult headspace, as low it was when he was little. Feeling helpless, a small tear slipped from his eye, followed by another. The little curled further in on himself, willing the pain to go away and hoping his members would come back home soon. He didn’t know how long he had been lying there, crying into his stuffed bear and yearning for both, his caregivers and his paci, which was out of reach on the dinner table where he had been coloring and which was the only thing that could help him calm down when his caregivers weren’t around. Shifting in pain, the dancer felt his phone in his pocket and after only a few seconds of resisting, he tapped Jisung’s number, which he had on speed dial for obvious reasons. It only took one ring for the rapper to pick up, he had had a bad gut feeling all day, so he was really worried when his little’s name lit up on the display. “Hey Jinnie”, he greeted neutrally, not knowing in which headspace his friend was. He heard quiet sniffles and what sounded like a suppressed sob, Hyunjin’s voice was soft and shaky when he replied: “D-Daddy. Pwease h-help. Jinnie’s t-tummy has the h-hurties weally b-bad.” Jisung’s eyes widened in shock, knowing his intuition had ended up being true. “It’s ok, sweetie. Try to calm down for daddy, yeah? I’ll just get appa really quick and we’ll be home in no time”, the caregiver assured, walking over to the maknae with the phone close to his ear. Trying to not get too distracted by his little’s pained cries, he explained the situation as fast as he could and pulled the youngest member along with him, while the rest of the group watched in sympathy. “Jinnie, hey, can you try to take a deep breath for daddy? Daddy and appa are already coming but we need you to calm down. Did you already eat lunch, princess?”, Jisung asked hoping the dancer just suffered from hunger pains. Hyunjin on the other side of the line sniffled, trying to take a deep breath like his daddy had told him to: “Jinnie had some milky.” – “Really, you mixed your formula by yourself?”, the rapper questioned and looked over at Jeongin, who raised an eyebrow. “Nuh-uh, Jinnie found stwabewwy milky. ‘Twas weally tasty”, Hyunjin smiled at the memory before another cramp shot through his abdomen and he had to bite into his teddy’s ear to keep himself from crying out loud. Jisung had paled at the little’s words, making eye-contact with the other caregiver and frowning: “Jinnie, you know that you can’t have milk. It always hurts your tummy, that’s why we got you a lactose-free formula.” Jeongin looked shocked when he concluded what had happened from only hearing one side of the conversation. They picked up their pace and only had a few blocks to go before reaching their dorm. Jisung wanted to stay on the phone till they reached their little but the call was ended abruptly and he only heard beeping.

Hyunjin had ended the call and dropped his phone. He was already in pain and now his daddy was upset at him for doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. Would they even come back to him after him being a bad boy? The little got more and more worked up, pulling the blanket over his head and making himself as small as possible. He sobbed hard, clutching his teddy to his chest in an attempt to find some comfort. It didn’t help that all the crying gave him the hiccups and the little was starting to taste the artificial strawberry flavor again. Hyunjin wasn’t able to hear the door slamming open over his cries but suddenly there were hands on him, removing the blanket to reveal his shaking form and tearstained face. At first the little startled away but soon realized the hands belonged to his daddy and looking up, he also found his appa standing close by. Strong but gentle arms picked him up and he found himself cradled against Jisung’s chest. “Ssh, it’s okay, sweetie. We’re here, everything will be ok”, the rapper hummed, rocking them both from side to side but soon stilled his movement, when he got a glimpse of the dancer’s face before it was shoved into his hoodie covered shoulder. “I’ll go find his lactase pills”, Jeongin announced, leaving the pair on the couch. “Innie? Maybe also get a bucket”, the older requested, drawing comforting circles on the little’s back, whose shoulders shook with hiccups and sobs. There was an audible gurgling noise followed by Hyunjin whimpering: “Huwts, daddy.” The caregiver cringed in sympathy, praying the maknae would hurry, while he watched the color drain from the little’s face. “I know, princess, daddy knows. Appa’s getting some medicine for you, that will make the hurties go away”, he promised, tucking the dancer’s hair behind his ears.

Jeongin didn’t take nearly as long as it felt to both, Jisung and Hyunjin, and crouched down next to the pair. “Jinnie, can you look at appa, princess? I got you some medicine”, the maknae smiled comfortingly, “on the other hand, judging by his skin-shade I think he needs to get at least some of the milk out before he can even swallow it”, the vocalist frowned at Jisung. The rapper had already expected this and quietly took the bucket from Jeongin. Standing up, the maknae set the box of pills on the coffee table and pulled a few colorful hairclips from the pocket of his hoodie. Hyunjin loved to wear them when playing dress up and he thought they would come in handy, keeping the little’s long hair out of the line of fire, should he need to be sick. Gently, he brushed the messy strands back and clipped them to the back of the dancer’s head, keeping his movements slow and steady. Both caregivers knew that the thought of throwing up scared the little and they could see him getting restless and uneasy in Jisung’s lap, so they needed to act extra-calm in order to keep him from freaking out. “I nuh be sick!”, Hyunjin announced stubbornly but when the next hiccup was followed by a wet burp, he quickly clamped his hands over his mouth as more tears streamed down his face. “It’s ok, sweetie. It’s better to get the things that are hurting you out, so they can’t hurt you anymore”, the rapper encouraged in a low voice, bringing the bucket a bit closer. Jeongin stood in front of Jisung, keeping the little between them on Jisung’s lap. The maknae stroked Hyunjin’s back comfortingly, while Jisung steadied the little with one arm and used the other arm to hold the bucket in Hyunjin’s lap.

A silent gag caused the dancer to pitch forward over the bucket but he kept his hands clamped tightly over his mouth, whining loudly at the burning sensation at the back of his throat. “Princess, daddy is right. You need to let the bad stuff out so that the pain can go away”, Jeongin frowned. Hyunjin shook his head, coughing behind his hands, which turned into another, wetter gag. Sighing, the maknae grabbed the dancer’s wrists, gently pulling his hands down, just in time for the little to burp up a small pinkish stream into the bucket. “That’s it, baby, get it all out”, Jisung cooed. The smell and taste were enough to send Hyunjin over the edge again, the milk not nearly as tasty having it on his tongue for a second time. He hiccupped weakly, choking on his saliva and coughing a bigger wave into the bucket, the liquid splashing hollowly against the plastic. Hyunjin couldn’t breathe, the was bitter liquid in his throat and he couldn’t breathe. It was only for a few seconds but to the little it seemed like forever and he started to freak out. Sobbing loudly, clutching both his caregivers’ hoodies. Jeongin reached out, wiping away the endless stream of tears: “It’s ok, you’re ok, princess. You did so well. I know it’s scary but it’ll be over soon. Appa promises.” The maknae switched from rubbing Hyunjin’s back to giving it some firm pats, making the little burp repeatedly before a small trickle of bile passively spilled from his lips.

“Seems like most of the milk is out”, Jisung hummed, “Sweetie, how does your tummy feel now?” Hyunjin shrugged, pointing at his throat rasping: “Ouchie.” – “I know it stung a bit, but your tummy will be better soon and then your throat will also be okay”, the rapper promised. Jeongin went to the bathroom to clean out the bucket before setting it down next to the couch just in case. He had also gotten the little’s sippy cup filled with water. “Here princess, have some water to get rid of the taste and to help your throat”, the vocalist requested, touching the sippy against the dancer’s chapped and swollen lips, “That’s it. Do you think you can take some medicine now?” Hyunjin pulled away from the sippy and nodded, allowing Jeongin to feed him two of the pills, before latching onto the sippy again to wash them down. Having finished all of his water, the little cuddled back into Jisung’s chest, who shifted them into a flat position. The maknae then joined the pair on the couch, spooning the little from behind and gently rubbing circles on his sore middle. By the time the rest of the group returned home, the trio was asleep.

[a-vintage-snake]

9. In All My Dreams I Drown

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Dukeceit

First chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter

Warnings: Implied child abuse, vomiting, dirty humor, basically Remus is Very Thirsty™ for that Snake Booty Characters: Janus “Deceit” Sanders, Remus Sanders

Summary: It is time for Remus’ first magic lessons

Word Count: 10213

Author’s Note: Heeeey there... Been a while, huh? Sorry if this took so long, I had to take a mental health break from writing for a while. But the good news is that I joined NaNoWriMo! I didn't hit 50k unfortunately, but I did hit nearly 30k! Anyways, enjoy!

Taglist: @avocados26, @fandoms-will-collide @nottoonormalme, @bihighandgivinghighfives, @atticusfinchthelegend​, @hekking-happy-nonsense, @lockmcduckwoodchuck

If you want to be removed or added to the taglist, just ask!

Read on AO3

He was floating.

Remus wasn’t sure how, but it didn’t matter. He felt light as a feather, a drowsy grin stretching on his face. His gaze idly, unhurriedly, moved up. Stars and galaxies twinkled above him; shining in a symphony of colours that made him half-heartedly wish he had his sketchbook with him. Their light was filtered however… As if he was looking at them from underwater. Was he in the ocean? How was he even breathing?

Remus leaned back against his partner, and all those silly questions left his head. The man behind him was the only solid thing in this floaty, tranquil world of his, and the only thing that mattered right now. Hands ran down Remus’ body, lazily exploring his skin. They traced down his back in small circles, before sliding up and pulling through his hair, making him almost purr in contentment.

“Aren’t you a lovely thing, my little prince.” A voice amusedly crooned into his ear. It was not just a voice. It was without a doubt the loveliest voice Remus had ever heard, and he would never tire of listening to it.

“I’m your lovely thing.” Remus answered with a grin.

“Are you now? Does that mean…” Remus felt a playful bite in his neck, scales dragging along his skin. “You want to stay with me?”

“Yes…” Remus answered in a haze.

“Will you be loyal to me?”

“Yes…”

“Will you help me?”

“Yes…” Remus moaned. “Yes.”

Abruptly the man behind him disappeared and Remus fell. He shouted in surprise as gravity suddenly had its hold back on him as he crashed hard into the painfully solid ground beneath him. Bewildered, he sat up and looked around. The stars above his head died away, one by one. Until he was left in pitch-black darkness.

“Worthless traitor.” A chorus of new voices echoed, the sheer disgust in them making Remus’ stomach turn.

“No! I’m not-! I don’t-!”

“Turn your back on us, after all that we have done for you.”

“You’ve done NOTHING for me!” Remus screamed as he shuffled back. “You deserve what’s coming for you!

“Deserve?” The voices laughed coldly. “You know what you deserve?”

A harsh wind knocked Remus back onto his back.

“You deserve to be punished.”

No! Anything but that! He tried to stand and run, but painfully bumped his head into a sudden low ceiling. He crumpled to the ground, nursing his aching head. The groaning sound of wood and stone surrounded him, deafening him.

The walls-! The walls were closing in!

“No… No!! NO!!” Remus screamed as the room became smaller and smaller, pushing onto him until they were squishing him down. It didn’t stop him from kicking and banging at the unyielding walls, his arms and legs barely able to move in the space that kept getting smaller and smaller. Even as he screamed as hard as he could, he could feel the air becoming thinner and thinner. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe-!!

Then he heard it. The sound he always dreaded. A lock falling into place and a key being turned.

“That is what you deserve.” The cold chorus of disgusted voices said from beyond the walls.

“NO!! PLEASE NO!! LET ME OUT, PLEASE LET ME OUT I WON’T THINK I WON’T SPEAK!!” Remus banged and pounded as the walls pressed in, slowly suffocating him. “JUST LET ME OUT PLEASE!!”

“PLEASE!!” Remus screamed as he rolled over, fighting against the hold the walls had on him. Funnily enough, now they seemed to yield a little easier. They felt a lot softer too. They were white. They were… Sheets?

Panting Remus sat up and looked around wildly. Rough stonewalls, large windows showing mountaintops and a sky slowly turning bright, a small desk and a fireplace… This was not his room-! Where the FUCK was he-??

-Lovely mismatched eyes, looking at him like he was a puzzle he wasn’t quite sure how to solve yet-

Slowly Remus’ breath evened. Oh. Right. Not a hopeful fantasy then. The last few days actually happened.

“Stupid fucking dream…” Remus muttered, trying to free his arms from their cotton prison. Fuck it, the dream had started out so nice too! The ghost memory of the hands in his hair made him sigh. Couldn’t that part just have continued for a little while?

As he sat up and tried to shake away the lingering dread the dream had caused, he looked around his chambers. Heh, funny how his actual life had become more dreamlike in just three days. It was almost impossible to believe!

…Unless he was still dreaming?

He pinched his arm. Nope, definitely awake, and still in the castle of a legendary warlock, who somehow seemed to tolerate his company enough to let him stay here.

…Not only that, he remembered. He was going to be taught magic.

Instantly erasing any leftover terror the dream had caused, Remus grinned widely.

“WOOO!!” He yelled, throwing himself back onto the very soft bed. He rolled around giggling wildly. It got him tangled in the sheets even further, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t hold in all the sheer excitement even if he wanted to try. Him! Him, learning magic!! Remus, the wizard! Remus, the sorcerer! Perhaps some day even… Remus the warlock!

Finally slowing to a halt Remus stared up at the ceiling for a while, his mind reeling with the options of what could happen today. Would he be taught how to do light illusions, just like he had seen on his ninth birthday? Or would he make potions like Virgil did? Perhaps he would be taught how to summon fire!

And let’s not forget just exactly who would be doing the teaching... Remus bit his bottom lip, excited anticipation making him squirm in his place. He had never understood people who had Sexy Teacher fantasies, but oooooh man did he get them now. It would just be the two of them, literal magic in the air… The idea alone made his heart flutter. Ugh, gross, his heart fluttered. Was this how Roman felt whenever he saw Patty-cakes? How did he ever get anything done?

Finally untangling himself from his sheets, Remus jumped out of bed and sprinted towards his luxurious bathroom with an eagerness he hadn’t felt in, well… Ever. He washed and dressed himself hurriedly.

“Right,” He said to his reflection. “Rough start yesterday! But it doesn’t matter! I can still turn this around!”

Can you though? The voice of reason chimed in. Oh wow, he was early today.

“Yes I can! I just need to make sure to act like Roman, and everything will work out just fine!”

Your disillusions could almost be called cute, if they weren’t so damn pathetic.

“Whatever,” Remus dismissed, ignoring the swirl of uncertainty in his stomach. “I just have to channel my inner Roman! I gotta think like Roman!” He placed his fingers at his temples. “Become the Roman! Right! What does Roman like??” He slapped his cheeks. “What. Does. Roman. Like?”

Remus wracked his brain for a few minutes, staring at his reflection with all the concentration of a child trying to win a staring contest.

“…Horse riding!” He eventually blurted. “Chubby men! The latest fashion trends! Boring dinners! What’s that? Why, I certainly want to kiss that ugly ass baby of yours! Just as long as it doesn’t drool on my ivory jacket! No, it’s not white, it’s ivory, you uncivilized peasant! Oh, let me just flip my luscious locks in this non-existent breeze as I trot towards the dance floor!”

Satisfied Remus nodded at himself. Oh yeah. He had this in the bag.

Leaving his chambers Remus took off towards the dining room. It had taken him a couple of hours yesterday, but eventually he had found his bedchambers again, where a small lunch was waiting for him. He had taken the rest of the day to map out the route between his bedchambers and the dining room until he was confident he could find it without too much trouble. Honestly, this place was a goddamn maze.

In the end he took only one wrong turn before he found the dining room again. The warlock wasn’t there yet. Remus shrugged off his disappointment as he took the same seat as he did the day before. He supposed he was too early anyway. The sober food hadn’t changed; they were still the same plates filled with fruits, dark bread and dried fish. Not exactly a varied diet in this castle, heh?

No matter. Remus' stomach growled anyhow. He already reached out to fill his plate, but paused midway. Uncertainly his hand hovered over the food. Was he… Allowed to eat now? His host hadn’t arrived yet… What if he accidentally insulted him by not waiting for him?

He shook his head. It was not worth the potential reprimand if he did eat. So Remus sat back and waited.

And waited.

Remus wiggled in his seat, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table. Boredom quickly took over. Fuck, he shouldn’t have arrived this early. Now what was he supposed to do?

He eyed the spare firewood for a second, but the dinner knife turned out to be too dull for whittling. He really missed his sketchbook by now. Why oh why hadn’t he brought it on his quest with him?

With nothing else to do Remus let his head fall back against the chair and started to tap out a little tune on the table. He hummed lowly, little no nonsense lyrics floating to his brain as he experimented with the melody.

“Went to the mountains today,” He sang to himself. “Went to the mountains and expected to slay… Little did I know that I would stay, oooh that I would stay…”

Really getting into it, Remus gently started tapping a knife against his glass alongside his other hand that still tapped the table, creating a whole new melody.

“Went to the mountains to find my destiny,” He now rocked back and forth in his chair. “How could I know that instead destiny would find me?”

“Very lovely.” A voice commented. Remus jumped in his chair with a shout, knocking over his glass. His heart beat a mile a minute as he turned to the right, finding the warlock sitting in the opposite chair, looking as hot as ever. Eris was once more wrapped around his shoulders, and the cobra glowered suspiciously at him.

“An original?” Deceit asked with a half smirk.

“Uuh, yeah,” Remus nodded as he looked between Deceit and the door, which he confirmed with a quick glance was still closed. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack or is scaring people shitless just a hobby of yours?”

Fuck, Remus cringed, that was too forward, wasn’t it? Too Remus, not enough Roman. Luckily the warlock only shrugged.

“Nothing like a little scare in the morning to get the blood pumping, as I totally always say,” Deceit grabbed an apple from the fruit plate. “Don’t you agree?”

Remus quickly nodded. He would agree with anything as long as the warlock just kept talking in that velvety voice. Somehow he kept forgetting just how brain meltingly gorgeous it was.

“You’re quite early.” The warlock said as he rubbed the apple against his sleeve. “Bad night or just eager to start the day?”

“Eager to start the day!” Remus beamed, cheerfully ignoring his dream from last night. “I am ready to do some magic!” Enthusiastically he started piling his plate full. “Let me just eat something real quick and then I’m ready-!”

“You haven’t eaten yet?” The warlock frowned.

Remus halted. “No…?” He said uncertainly.

“Why ever not?”

“I… Uhh…” Remus fidgeted. “I wasn’t sure if it was… Allowed?”

“Allowed? Oh stars above…”

Remus cringed. He did something wrong. Already. For fuck’s sake, the day hadn’t even started yet!

Obviously. What did you expect?

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly.

“No, you don’t need to-! Remus, understand this,” The warlock’s voice lost all its teasing quality. “You are completely free to do whatever you need to make yourself at home here. You don’t need my permission to eat, drink or otherwise make yourself comfortable. I mean, goodness,” The warlock huffed a laugh as he lifted the apple to his lips. “Next you’ll ask me to bathe you.”

Remus quickly shoved a forkful of fish in his mouth before he could moan out ‘Oh, please do’. The salty flavour sobered him up enough to not let any delightful bathing fantasies grab his attention for too long. Chewing like his sanity depended on it Remus quickly shoved a few more bites into his mouth, looking to his right to show that yes! He was eating now! Only to find that the warlock paid him no mind, focusing on his own food instead. Deceit’s fangs glistened in the light of the fire as he finally sunk his teeth into the apple, breaking the skin and taking a bite. A drop of juice gathered at the corner of his mouth, and he absentmindedly licked it away. Did Remus’ eyes fool him, or had it been a split tongue he had gotten a brief flash of?

Remus had to gulp and swallow his food, even though it was too big of a mouthful to go down comfortably. This was unfair; this was so unfair! No one was allowed to be this hot while just eating a fucking apple, of all things.

He wanted to lean forward and kiss him breathless. He wanted to taste the sweetness of the apple on his tongue. He wanted those fangs to bite his bottom lip, a low growl emitting from the warlock. He wanted to pull back, look in those mismatched eyes and hear him say-

“You’re stabbing your face with a fork.”

Remus blinked, the images disappearing, leaving him with the very real warlock giving him a weird look. “Wha…?” He asked dumbly.

“The fork you’re currently stabbing in your own face?” Deceit repeated deadpan, and now Remus finally noticed the pricking sensation in his cheek. He floundered, almost dropping the utensil as he quickly threw the fork over his shoulder.

“I do that! Sometimes!” Remus fumbled as the fork landed behind him with a ting. “Part of my, uuuhm…” Shit, shit! Quick! What would Roman say, what would Roman say??

“…Skin care routine?”

Somewhere, somehow, Remus’ inner Roman started crying.

“Ah, of course!” Deceit said. “How silly of me, to just forget the single most important step of every skincare routine!”

“HAhahahha, yeaaah…” Remus choked. “So silly!”

“Well then,” The warlock dropped the half eaten apple on his plate. “If you’re finished with eating and your, ahem- skin care routine,” Deceit rose from his chair. “How about we get started?”

--

“What are we going to do first??” Remus asked, barely able to keep himself from hopping up and down as he followed the warlock through the castle’s halls. “Fire from my hands?? Light illusions?? Holy shit, am I going to learn how to teleport??”

Eris gave him a disapproving glare, but the warlock only chuckled. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, we’re going to start with something different.”

“Oh.” Remus shoulders sagged. “Like what?”

Deceit threw him an amused look over his shoulder. “Like some beginners lessons, perhaps?”

“Aaaw…”

“No need to sound so disappointed! We’ll get where you want eventually.”

“Tomorrow?” Remus hopefully asked.

“No.”

“Aaaw!”

“Honestly,” The warlock laughed and stopped in his tracks to turn to him. “Do you expect to become an expert at everything you do within a day?”

“No, but I would sure as hell would like to!”

“Don’t we all…” The warlock shook his head. “But I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Magic, like all crafts, requires studying, time and discipline.”

Remus grimaced. Oh great, his least favourite STD.

“Look, I know you said you’re an amazing teacher, and I believe you!” Remus tried again. “But I was not joking when I said I’m horrible at learning!”

“I still don’t believe that.”

Trust me, you will, the voice of reason piped in, making Remus wince.

“Isn’t there like a magical amulet or something that can give me super instant magic?” Remus asked. “Instead of wasting your time?

“That’s now how magical amulets work, or even how magic works,” Deceit laughed. “A magical amulet can only enhance a person’s magic, not create it.”

Not even trying to stifle the desperate whine that left his throat Remus threw his hands up in frustration. “Then how does magic work??”

The warlock thought that over a few seconds. “Imagine…” Deceit eventually slowly said. “Imagine the world around you as a calm lake. And see magic as dropping a stone in the middle of that lake. One small act creates a ripple, which spreads over the water. Changing the world as its waves surge through it. Of course, that calm lake would have remained a calm lake if you had never been there. Because those ripples start…” Deceit tapped a finger against Remus’ chest. “With you.”

Remus held a hand over the place where the warlock touched. His heart thrummed against his palm.

“So…” Remus frowned, his head slightly spinning. “Magic is like water where I dropped a stone in…?”

“Correct.”

“…But if that stone sinks, does that mean the world will just swallow up my magic? And if they’re ripples, does that mean that magic eventually becomes less powerful the more it spreads?

“I-” Deceit blinked a few times, looking mildly bewildered. “No? I mean, that’s not-! Look, it’s not a perfect metaphor-!”

“Also how big is the stone? I mean a stone won’t give much ripples! Why not throw a rock in? A boulder?? An entire mountain-!”

“The point is!” Deceit interrupted. “That all the things you wish to do won’t be possible if you don’t summon your own core magic first! That is the key to magic, not spells or potions!”

“Does that mean spells are the ripples-?”

“Forget the ripples!” Deceit said through gritted teeth.

“Right, sorry.”

The warlock raised a hand. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, his eyes were burning in that now familiar spellbinding molten gold. The gold spread through his veins, his face and hands coming alive like rivers of lava rushed through him instead of blood. Even Eris lit up, the ridges between her scales glowing gold as if red hot coals burned inside of her. Remus stared breathlessly as Deceit became a living golden statue, light pouring from him and Eris, lighting up the dark hallway like they trapped sunlight in their very forms.

“Summon your core magic,” Deceit spoke, gold pouring from his mouth. “With it you can accomplish anything your heart desires, and change your world.”

Currently what Remus’ heart desired was finding out if Deceit’s tongue would burn his if he leaned in and captured those lovely lips in a kiss, but somehow he didn’t think that’s exactly what the warlock meant.

“Summoning my core magic!” Remus grinned and clapped his hands. “Awesome!” His grin tempered somewhat. “How do I do that?”

Deceit closed his hand, and the glow in his eyes and veins disappeared. Eris returned to her normal state as well. Remus blinked some spots in his vision away. His eyes had to get used to the sudden darkness of the hallway again. Taking a calming breath Deceit crossed his arms at the small of his back.

“Close your eyes.”

Remus frowned but obeyed, uncertainly closing his eyes.

“Breathe in deeply,” The warlock’s voice ordered. Remus inhaled. “Very good. Now exhale through your mouth. Think of nothing. Let all thoughts pass by and leave you…”

Think of nothing? Well shit, if that was a requirement for using magic he was fucked.

“Relax your muscles. That includes that frown you currently have.”

Remus quickly relaxed the muscles in his face, allowing his shoulders to sag.

���Continue to breathe deeply. Inhale… Exhale. Inhale… Exhale.”

Remus followed the pattern that the warlock set for a few minutes. He felt a little silly, standing in a hallway and breathing like he was an old man trying to calm his heart after running a marathon. But if it meant listening to that voice for a little longer he was more than happy to continue this odd little exercise.

“Continue breathing in this same pattern,” Deceit said. His voice was slower now, softer. “Now, as you continue breathing… Allow the world to fall away. In this very moment, there is nothing in this universe but you and my voice. Everything else ceases to exist.”

Nothing else existed? Man, what he wouldn’t give for a universe where it was just the two of them…

“Continue breathing like I showed you,” The warlock’s voice had shifted. Now it came from his right, still ever so quiet. “With every breath the world falls away bit by bit, until the only thing left is you. You, and my voice… At this very moment, you need nothing else.”

The warlock’s voice continued to circle him, closer and closer, yet Remus heard no footsteps. Not even when he strained his ears. His head felt incredibly fuzzy. If it weren’t for the solid ground beneath his feet he would think that the warlock spoke the truth. That in this moment Deceit had taken away everything and left only them, drifting in the vastness of space. The thought was exhilarating.

“Turn yourself inwards…” The warlock said, slower and softer, closer to him than before. “Feel every inhale, every beat of your heart. Search deep inside yourself…”

Remus’ head spun. The world truly became a distant mirage for a brief second, and he distinctly felt like he was floating outside of his own body. Now even the ground felt distant and far away, as if he had left behind such commonalities as stone and mortar. Perhaps, in this moment he really didn’t need them. Fuck, he felt weird… Weird… But amazing.

“Very good, Remus.” Deceit’s voice suddenly came from right behind him, and just like that Remus fell and was slamdunked back into his own body. He jolted, acutely aware of the world around him. The ground beneath his feet, every itch on his arm, every blow of the wind outside and most concerning of all, the very real and solid presence behind him. Warm breath hit the back of his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Turn yourself inwards,” Deceit whispered in his silk on leather voice, making all kinds of delicious shivers roll down Remus’ spine and his head fill with warm, bed-tousled fantasies. “Feel your heart beating, in rhythm with every little part of you. Here, at this very place… You will find your core magic.”

Don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, Remus thought desperately. Don’t get a boner, don’t get a-

Suddenly, Deceit pressed a hand between his shoulder blades, and Remus’ head snapped back with a sharp gasp.

Magic!

Like lightening it struck, alighting every nerve in his body in response. Magic streamed through his blood, bold and confident, filling his head and making it spin with light. This was not like how the hypnotizing had felt. That had filled only his head, dulling his senses and making him feel lazy. This sparked up every cell, every inch of him awakened by its call. His heart beat out an enthusiastic rhythm, answering the thrum of magic that rushed through his body with a melody of its own. Remus blinked his eyes open and gasped again at the sight of his hands. His veins were lit up in a golden glow, making his hands tingle and tremble. He did not need a mirror to know his eyes were alighted in that same golden flare.

The warlock pulled his hand back, and just like that the magic rushed away. Remus wanted to howl when the magic started to leave him. He wanted to grab onto the feeling with claws and teeth, to try to keep it inside of him like a dragon guarding its hoard. Let him have that confident feeling just a little longer, please!

No use. The magic left, leaving him feeling empty as Remus grasped his heart and resisted the urge to cry. He was shaking. Shaking as every fibre of him wanted that feeling back.

“And that,” Deceit said casually, as if he hadn’t just reduced Remus to a trembling mess. “Is magic. Do you understand now why you must summon that first?”

Remus turned to him, shakily. “I want to do that too.” He said breathlessly.

“You will. In time.” Deceit said lightly. “Here is your first assignment. From this day on you will do this breathing exercise every day, until your core magic is brought forth. Understand?”

Remus nodded wildly. “What are some other beginners lessons??” He asked eagerly. He had to get that feeling back, no matter what it took. The warlock smiled, and Remus felt his heart skip a beat. If that happened every time this man so much as looked his way, he would have died from a heart attack by nightfall.

“I know the perfect place to start.” Deceit said.

--

He really had to get used to infinite stairs if he was going to live here for the near future, huh? Remus would never have called himself unfit, but right now the sweat was starting to bead on his forehead and his breath came in heavy pants. The warlock ahead of him didn’t appear to be troubled at all. They had done nothing but climb stairs for what felt like ages, yet he still looked as if he freshly stumbled out of a dark fairy-tale. Eris hadn’t moved from her spot on Deceit’s shoulders, and occasionally she casted a look down at him full of mocking disdain. Remus had no idea how a cobra could convey this sheer amount of dignified disgust at him when she didn’t even have facial features, yet here he was.

“You try climbing all these stairs!” He mouthed at her when she gave him again another look as if she smelled something foul (to be fair, he had been climbing for a while now). Eris pulled up her nose at him with an “Hmph!”movement and nestled her head into the warlock’s curls. Remus squinted bitterly.

He was not going to be jealous of a snake, he was not going to be jealous of a snake-!

As if she tasted his bitterness in the air, Eris burrowed herself a little deeper into the warlock’s hair and threw him such a smug look Remus considered strangling her for a brief second. He settled on sticking his tongue out at her instead, grinning at insulted hiss he got in return.

“Will you two stop fighting?” Deceit exasperatedly said over his shoulder. Remus jumped. How the fuck did he-?

“You,” Deceit said as he scratched Eris’ yellow and black scales. “I told you to be nice.” Eris grumbled and moodily slithered her head inside the warlock’s cloak.

“As for you,” The warlock stopped and turned to Remus, who halted sheepishly in his steps. “Please stop antagonizing my familiar. Trust me, it’s not going to help you endear yourself to her. She’s a delicate lady.”

Remus took one glance at the cobra, who stuck her head out from her hiding place just enough to bare her fangs at him, the murder clear in her eyes and was just about to comment that they had a very different definition of what ‘delicate’ meant, when he frowned.

“Wait, what’s a fami-?”

“Keep up, we’re almost there.” The warlock interrupted as he resumed climbing the stairs. Remus cursed and quickly followed, despite his lungs and legs protesting.

Eventually they reached the top of the stairs, which led them to a narrow hallway with worn double doors at the end. Remus felt some of the sweat on his back turn cold. Hurriedly scrambling after Deceit he tried his best to ignore how the walls seemed to grow narrower and narrower the closer they got the doors.

“Doors!” Remus giggled nervously, trying to distract himself from the hallway. “Obviously the most magical thing of all!”

The warlock chuckled. “You might be more right than you think…” And with that, he pushed the doors open.

Remus blinked at the unexpected brightness that came pouring from the open doors. When he was adjusted to the sudden influx of light and looked around his mouth dropped open. Funny, it had been doing that a lot recently.

They were in a greenhouse. Somehow, at the high top of this mountain, there was a fucking greenhouse. Following the warlock in and instantly forgetting the narrow hallway, Remus spun on his feet to take everything in. The temperature was much milder in here than the rest of the castle, making him relax at the warmth. The distant sound of rushing water filled his ears. Suddenly he wished he had been born with a head completely covered in eyeballs just so he could take in every little detail of the greenhouse and its multitude of greenery. The high glass pane ceiling illuminated the vast array of plants, some he recognized, and some he didn’t. An apple tree stood next to a long elongated plant with large purple flowers, whose leaves swayed as if they were tousled in a non-existent wind. Familiar flowers like roses, daffodils and lilies grew alongside flowers who looked like see-through pink glass, or ones whose petals flickered like a small candle flame. Plants folded their leaves open like silk green fans, others let theirs droop like little golden bells. A willowy tree that carried curtains of silver clustered flowers opened its petals as Deceit and Remus walked past them, and unfurled to reveal long yellow stamens thick with pollen.

“Keep up, will you.” The warlock’s voice came from further ahead. Remus shook his head and tore his gaze away from the plants for now to catch up with Deceit. Hidden amongst the green there stood a worn table, wedged against a rocky wall where a modest indoor waterfall steadily rushed. Remus guessed this had to be where the castle stopped and the mountains began. The steady sound of rushing water became louder, louder than the small stream could be. Remus curiously walked up to the large windows that were opposite of the wall. They were foggy with little water droplets, but could not hide the massive waterfall right next to the window, plunging into a depth that made Remus’ legs feel all jumbly.

“Wicked…” Remus breathed.

“It is quite spectacular, isn’t it?” Deceit said, a pleased undertone in his voice. Remus tore his gaze away from the waterfall to look back at the warlock, who rummaged through the equipment that was scattered all over the table. As Deceit searched through a short pile of books that stood at the edge, Remus stepped closer and curiously inspected the table’s contents. There was a mortar and pestle, a watering can, a wooden cutting board and a knife etched with runes on the side, a book flipped open to a page explaining the anatomy of a plant he did not recognize and more dried plants than he ever saw. More so even than the collection Virgil had hanging from his ceiling, back home.

“What do these do??” He asked, pointing at the runes on the knife.

“A bit more patience, I will start the lesson shortly. But before I do that… Aha!” Finally founding what he was looking for, Deceit turned back to him. “This…” He held something out for him. “Is for you.”

Remus hesitantly took what the warlock held out for him. It was a book. A small, leather-bound tome. Curiously Remus flipped through it, only to find that the pages were all blank.

“What is this? Horrid Spells written in invisible ink?” Remus frowned up at the warlock, who chuckled.

“I’m so tempted to say yes, but no. This,” Deceit tapped a finger against the leather cover. “Is your very own grimoire.”

Remus blinked. “My what now?”

“Your grimoire. Or Book of Shadows, spell book, whatever you wish to call it. The name is not as important as its purpose.”

“Which… is?”

“To document your journey. Everything you learn about magic you put it here. Not only to track your progress, but also to look back if you ever need to remember something you might have forgotten. A grimoire marks a diligent student, and later a true magic user.”

“Wow… Uhm, okay.” Remus turned the book over in his hands, inspecting the simple black leather and the yellowed pages. Now that he thought about it, hadn’t Virgil always read and written in a tattered tome bound in black leather? He wondered if he got his own grimoire from the warlock too…

Oooh, how cool would it be if he used the blood of his enemies to write in this?? Now THAT would make it a properly badass cursed spellbook-

Remus quickly shook his head and repressed that thought faster than Logan would dismiss his weird experiment ideas. Oh nice, he was getting good at that!

“Thank you.” Remus said sincerely as he held the book against his chest. It had been years since anyone had given him something, anything, even as simple as a book. He wished he could give something back in return. What would Roman do? Pay him a compliment maybe…? But what was a good non-weird compliment?

Tell him his face is magnificent, and you totally want to sit on-

Remus quickly squashed that down. Nope, nope, definitely not!

“Now then,” Deceit smiled as he handed Remus a short pencil. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes!!” Remus grabbed the pencil, bouncing in his spot. Finally! “Yes, yes, yes please!!”

“I like your attitude. Here is your first study subject,” Deceit gestured to their surroundings. “Herbology.”

Remus blinked a few times. “Hebelowhatnow?”

“Herbology, meaning the study of magical and mundane plants and their use in occult practices. It is the perfect start for a beginner, as herbology is a type of magic where you don’t necessarily need to have other magical qualities to become an expert in.” Deceit explained as he grabbed and filled the watering can at the indoor waterfall. “And much like potions, it is more of a science than an art.”

“Right, awesome!” Remus opened the book and hastily scribbled ‘Hebelogie’ on the first page. “So is herbology just a fancy name for gardening?”

Deceit chuckled. “Not exactly.” He took his watering can and took off into the greenhouse. Remus followed.

“While it’s true that there are obvious similarities between gardening and herbology, they are two very different things,” Deceit explained while they walked, occasionally watering one of the plants. “For one, gardening is for plants used for either beautification or consumption. A herbology garden is explicitly used for magical purposes.”

“Makes sense, makes sense…” Remus nodded seriously, hoping to sound very knowledgeable.

“Secondly,” Deceit halted for a minute and drew a rune in the dirt of a small bush with heart shaped fruits. “While spells and runes can absolutely be applied in an ordinary garden as well, it’s more common to do these things in a herbology garden.”

“Spells and runes, gotcha!” Remus tried to see what kind of rune Deceit had drawn, but he had to catch up to the other before he could get a clear look.

“Lastly, and most importantly, there are some plants that no gardener without magical experience should ever handle. For example.”

The warlock halted before the tree with the silver clusters of flowers. Once again the flowers unfurled to reveal their yellow stamens. The warlock stooped down and grabbed a bucket with a tightly closed lid, which had been hidden under the greenery of another plant.

“Observe.” He said as he opened the lid. Immediately the sickly stench of rotten meat drifted upwards, making the warlock draw back with a small flinch. Even so though he reached into the bucket with his bare hand, grabbing a handful of slimy, rancid meat and righting himself. Remus’ head completely blanched on the many questions he had as he saw how the tree’s stamens righted themselves, swaying back and forth, as if it reacted to the smell.

“Putidus Carptus.” Deceit said as he threw the meat right into the awaiting flowers. The branches immediately wrapped themselves around the meat, pulling it inwards and out of sight. “Otherwise known as ‘Soldier’s Despair’ in farmer’s tongue. A tree known for sprouting in the midst of a ravaged battlefield, eating away any rot and decay around it. Whole forests have been known to sprout in prior combat zones.” He threw another piece of meat into the flowers, which was met with equal enthusiasm. “Usually it dies out if it has eaten all the decay, but when hungry enough in its final days of bloom it has been known for eating fresh meat as well in its desperation.” The warlock murmured a quick spell and the filth on his hand disappeared. “Funnily enough, it’s flowers and stamens can be used to create multiple healing potions for various illnesses. Just goes to show you even Mother Nature likes irony sometimes.”

Remus nodded, open mouthed and only half hearing the explanation. He stared, starry eyed, at the moving branches as they ate away at the meat.

“That… Is…” He said with a growing grin on his face. “So…” Amazing, awesome, fucking cool as SHIT, his mind supplies, but he said none. Biting back his grin he considered his options. Yes, he thinks it’s cool, but Roman would hate the plant. In fact, he would probably be disgusted by it!

Be like Roman, he reminded himself. Be. Like. Roman.

“…Disturbing,” Remus said finally, despite his heart wanting to stick his hand in the flowers and see if they would nibble on him too. “So very disturbing.”

The warlock gave a short hum. “Its beauty may be lost to those who look no further than what purpose it can serve, but I can appreciate its willingness to do a dirty job.”

Suddenly uncertain if he had said the right thing, Remus turned to the other to ask more. Deceit however seemed to already have moved on, now picking away dead branches of a very normal looking apple tree.

“But if this is a magical garden,” He asked, repressing his doubt for now. “Why are things like apples here? Isn’t that regular garden stuff?”

“Hardly. While it’s true that some plants have more… Obvious magical qualities than others,” Deceit picked away another branch, “More ‘mundane’ plants can actually enhance intentions in spells and potions.”

“Right. Because…” Remus thought for a second. “You choose them based on what your intent with a spell is…?” He hesitantly asked. He was rewarded for his question with another brain melting smile from the warlock.

“That is correct. Well deduced.”

Remus felt something in him swell with pride. He couldn’t remember the last time a teacher (or anyone really) complimented him. Usually people either looked disgusted or annoyed when he asked questions.

Then it hit him. The perfect compliment. One that wasn’t gross or inappropriate. Wiggling his shoulders in excitement he propped his elbow on the tree next to the warlock and planted his other hand on his side.

“So… He started, hoping he sounded casual and failing miserably. “Herbology, potions, spells…” He smiled what he thought was a good imitation of Roman’s signature golden smile. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

The warlock’s smile fell. A flash of some emotion crossed his face, but it was gone before Remus could decipher what it was.

“…Let’s continue.” Deceit said flatly as he turned away from the tree, leaving Remus in his prime flirting pose feeling very confused. After a few seconds of him puzzling what the fuck just happened Remus hastily scrambled after him. Obviously he had said something wrong… But what? For the life of him he could not figure out what.

He’s probably just disgusted by you. Accept it.

“Uuuh, hey!” Remus called out to drown the voice of reason. Deceit stopped and turned.

“What?” He said in that same flat tone. Remus winced, his eyes darting for something, anything-!

“Roses!” Remus quickly said.

“…What about them?” Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“Well, uhm- What kind of magical qualities do roses have?” Remus gestured to the plants in question, which grew alongside the path they currently walked. “I mean the gardens back home were full of them! Don’t tell me I had a secret stash of magic supplies right under my nose and wasted an opportunity to sell them off to the highest bidder!”

Deceit’s stance eased. “Ah, good question.” He said. Remus sagged in relief. Good save there.

“It’s true that roses have no overt magical qualities,” The warlock said made his way to Remus and smoothed out some of the roses. “But they’re used in plenty of potions and spells as enhancers.”

“Like what kind?” Remus asked curiously.

“The thorns can be used in protection spells and minor curses,” Deceit fussed over a white rose, one that hadn’t quite bloomed yet. “With the petals it depends on the colour. Remember, intent is everything. White petals for example can be used for blessings, while yellow petals are useful in anti-depressant potions.”

“Right,” Remus nodded as he scribbled ‘patels and colur meening’ in his grimoire. “And red petals?”

“Oh, those are used for love potions, aphrodisiacs, that kind of thing.”

“R-Really…?” Remus gave himself a mental pat on the back as he managed to push away the delightfully delicious images that the word aphrodisiacs conjured up. “That- That’s interesting…”

“You know,” Deceit said slowly as he looked at the rosebud. “It’s here you find the real difference between gardeners and herbalists.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. While we both agree that nature will always do the most work, sometimes we can give…” Deceit gently touched the bud. A spark of gold flickered at his fingertips, before it spread through the veins of the flower like thin glowing rivers. “A helping hand.”

The flower trembled as it slowly, ever so slowly, unfurled its petals. The golden veins glimmered, casting Deceit’s face in soft light. Lightly Deceit cupped the flower and leaned in to inhale its scent. Remus couldn’t help but stare as a smile softened the sharp angles of the warlock’s face.

“I wish I was that rose…” Remus muttered reverently.

“What did you say?” Deceit blinked up at him.

“I SAID YOU’RE GROSS!!” Remus blurted.

Slapping a hand in front of his mouth, Remus stared at the warlock’s stunned face. Oh fuck oh fuck OH FUCK-

How the fuck do I get myself out of this, what do I do what do I DO-??? Don’t let him ask questions do something follow your instinct QUICK!!!

Turning, Remus grabbed and pulled the nearest plant from the ground and shoved it into his mouth.

“No wait, DON’T EAT THAT-!!”

--

Remus hurled, and added some more of his stomach fluids into the empty flowerpot he was currently hunched over. He lost count at this point how many times he had puked into the clay pot by now, and yet the vomit still came at an alarming speed. The cool hands that diligently brushed his hair back as he was unpleasantly reacquainted with his breakfast only made this whole situation so much worse.

“Well then,” The warlock said dryly. “Hopefully this will be a wise lesson not to eat any plant you’ve never seen before.”

Another miserable roll of his stomach made Remus heave out some more fluids. At this point it was nothing but bile. “W-What the fuck did I eat…?” He managed to miserably whine out.

“That was a little plant called “Atrejeci”. Or, as it is more commonly known, Charcoal Root. In its diluted form it can purify mild poisons from your bloodstream. In its undiluted form however it just purifies the body…” Deceit paused as Remus puked out some more stomach acid. “…In a more literal sense.”

“Cool,” Remus muttered pitifully. “Cool cool cool cool cool. How long is this going to last exactly…?”

“Seeing as you ate nearly half a plant, you’ll probably be here a while.”

“Great…”

“Not to worry, it shouldn’t be fatal in the long run as long as we treat it well.” The warlock patted him between the shoulder blades. “I’m going to get you some water. You’ll be losing a lot of liquids in the coming hour, and we need to make sure you don’t get dehydrated.”

“Okay, you do that…” Remus babbled as footsteps echoed away from him. “I’ll be here…!” He heaved again and leaned his sweaty forehead against the flowerpot’s cool edge. “Not going anywhere…”

Nice going, idiot. Nothing quite says “romance” like gratuitous vomiting!

“Well at least I distracted him…” Remus muttered. His stomach felt like it was determined to burn a hole through his flesh and turn him into the world’s most horrifying fountain.

Ah yes, at least you did that… All the while showing how you are nothing but a screw-up. How long do you think those magic lessons will last now?

“Shut up-” Remus murmured miserably before he felt another hurl coming up and he had to spit out more bile.

--

The serene sounds of vomiting followed Deceit as he made his way to his little indoor waterfall. His new student was an… Odd one, to say the least.

“he’s an idiot.” Eris contributed from his shoulders.

“Be nice, dear.” Deceit distractedly muttered.

“he does not take this seriously. why do you bother?”

“On the contrary,” Deceit answered as he grabbed a wooden pitcher from his supply table. “I think he takes it incredibly seriously.”

Eris gave him a disbelieving head tilt. “how can you tell?”

“Because, my sceptical serpent,” Deceit gave Eris a small flick on her nose, earning him an offended hiss and a snap at his fingers in return. “He wants this chance to prove himself to a near desperate degree.”

Yes, spending more time with Remus this day had given him a clearer image of the prince. The eagerness to please, the careless willingness to put his life into the hands of a complete stranger, the disbelieving joy when he got even the smallest of compliments, the fear and badly hidden flinches when he did something wrong… All of it was starting to paint a picture, and not a very pretty one.

With a scowl he held a pitcher in the waterfall. Goodness, just when he thought he couldn’t hate Augusto more… The man unfortunately just kept surprising him.

Oh well… In a weird sense he supposed he should be thankful that his nemesis had screwed up his parenting this badly. If he hadn’t, it would have been so much harder to persuade Remus to his side. Now he didn’t even need to do anything! The ease almost unnerved him a little bit. Although he definitely could have used that same kind of ease with his… Previous student…

He had wandered quite a bit further from the castle than he usually did. He tried to convince himself it was because he was looking for a specific herb for one of his potions, but in truth… It had been for no other reason than pure restlessness.

The lights of the small city at the base of the mountain gleamed in the darkness of the night. Occasionally shouting of drunken folk would echo upwards to where Deceit stood, silent and observing. He had gotten close enough to the houses that he could see the people walking in the streets, crawling around like busy little ants. Usually he avoided coming this close but alas, it appeared that his hubris had gotten the better of him yet again. Though he doubted anyone would see him even if they did bother to look up. His black cloak made him one with the shadows. Invisible to those unsuspecting fools who cowered at the mere mention of his existence.

The night sky deepened, and one by one the lights went out in the city. People sought out their warm homes and comfy beds, yet the warlock kept looking until the quiet of the mountains pressed in on him once more. Like he was suffocated under a pillow.

Deceit sighed. Why did he come here? More importantly, why did he stay here so long? Reluctantly he tore his gaze away from the darkened city and started to walk up the path he walked a thousand times before. Eris would probably have started to worry by now. He better try to come up with some good excuse-

He stopped. He perked his ears, frowning. Deceit had been in the mountains for a very, very long time. He knew every sound these peaks and valleys made at night by heart, every creature’s howl, every whisper the wind would carry.

What he heard now however? That decidedly did not belong here.

Curiously he followed the sound. To him it almost sounded like a wounded animal, but the closer and closer he got he slowly realized that couldn’t be it. That’s how he found the ravine.

The ravines could be found all throughout the mountains. Treacherous, gaping chasms hidden in the rough landscape. Invisible to the eye until it was too late. Especially in the dark, when the shadows would hide their depths until someone stumbled into them. Deceit suspected that these fissures had added more people to the missing list than he ever did. Unless you were very careful or knew the mountain paths well it was almost impossible to avoid them.

Treading carefully towards the rocky edge of the fissure, Deceit peered in. It was not as deep as some of these ravines could get, but still deep enough that the moonlight did not reach all the way down. Luckily Deceit’s night vision had always been very good, so he could just make out the figure squirming at the bottom. Hurt grunts floated up towards him as the person in the fissure tried to wobbly stand, only to fall back over with an anguished wail.

Deceit tilted his head. Why on earth had they tried to enter the Desolate Mountains? Surely if they lived this close they must have heard the stories of him and his infamous reputation. Hadn’t those been enough? He almost felt a little insulted.

Well, he supposed it didn’t matter now. Whoever the poor sod was, if they were hurt they wouldn’t be able to climb out of the fissure by themselves. They would just become another disappearance. Another rumour for the gossipers down below. Deceit shrugged and turned to leave.

“Shit-! Come on, get up get up-! OW!!”

Deceit froze on the spot. The voice that drifted upwards from the fissure kept on babbling, panicked, pained and…

And they sounded so young.

Another distressed ‘No, no! Get up please!’ floating up only confirmed it. Whoever it was down there, they were young. Hell, they sounded like they hadn’t quite hit puberty yet. Maybe it was one of those snot-lipped city kids who dared each other to go in the mountains to prove how brave they were. But even then they never got this far up! Why had this kid travelled all this way?

Deceit shook his head. It was none of his business. Surely if their parents missed them they would come and look for them.

…But would they be on time? Even if they dared to enter the mountains for a rescue mission (which was unlikely) it did not guarantee that the kid was found before a predator with less mercy than Deceit would. Or before he starved to death, or any other gruesome fate. The mountains were cruel, especially to those who were hurt. By this rate the kid would most likely be dead by morning…

No, this was ridiculous! He didn’t know the little idiot, and besides! They knew the dangers when they went into the mountains! It was their own fault for coming here!

Deceit knew all that, and yet his feet refused to move away from the fissure. A pained cry echoed towards him, causing something to tug at the tattered strings of his heart and- Oh no, was that his conscious talking??? He thought he got rid of that thing years ago!

Another distressed wail. Deceit closed his eyes, frustration and resignation coming out in a long grunting sigh before he snapped his fingers and transported himself. Right before the teenager stuck at the bottom of the ravine.

At first they didn’t notice him. The boy- Or at least, Deceit thought it was a boy- looked to be around twelve or thirteen. Dark locks fell down in unruly bangs, hiding away his eyes behind a thick curtain of hair. The boy grunted and grabbed the rocky wall to try to stand up once more. Incredibly dumb of him. If Deceit had to judge from the sight of the boy’s ankle, which was wrapped in improvised bandages darkened with blood and bent at an angle that couldn’t mean anything good, he had made quite a nasty fall.

As Deceit moved to get a better look, the boy finally noticed him and fell back down with a startled shout.

“Who are you?!” The boy yelled, shuffling backwards. Deceit held up his hands in a calming gesture.

“I’m not here to harm you.”

“Like hell you are!”

Deceit rolled his eyes impatiently and didn’t answer. What use was explaining now when that ankle was in such desperate need for a healing?

“Stay back!” The boy yelled as Deceit kept advancing in on him. “I’m warning you!”

“Foolish boy, I’m just here to help you-!”

“I am the warlock of these mountains!” The boy growled with a ferocity that made Deceit pause in his steps. “Dare to come any closer and I will hex your ass!”

Blinking a few times in surprise, Deceit fought against the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Now that was one he hadn’t heard before. If it hadn’t been for the underlying prepubescent quality of the boy’s voice, he would have actually sounded threatening enough to fool someone.

“I said stay back!!” The boy growled once more as Deceit stepped closer. “Didn’t you hear me?! I am the warlock of these mountains!!”

“Oooh?” Deceit said amusedly as he kneeled to the boy’s eye height. A snap of his fingers made a small flame flicker to life in his palm, illuminating his face in threatening shadows. “Are you now…?” He grinned, his fangs flashing in the flickering light.

In the light of the flame Deceit saw the colour drain from the boy’s cheeks as he realized his mistake.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit- I’m sorry-!” The boy babbled as he tried his best to crawl even further back, despite the stone behind him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-! I didn’t mean to insult you, I’m sorry-!”

“Look into my eyes.” Deceit said calmly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me, I didn’t mean it-!”

“I said look into my eyes.”

At the commanding hiss the boy’s eyes unwillingly snapped up and looked right into the bright glow of Deceit’s hypnotizing gaze. As he saw the boy’s eyes glaze over in molten gold obedience Deceit smirked.

“There we go! Was that so hard?” Deceit drawled. “Now, tell me the truth. What is your name?”

“V-Virgil…” The boy stammered. “Virgil Becker.”

“Virgil.” Deceit nodded. “Such a pleasure to meet you! What exactly are you doing in my mountains, Virgil?”

“I… I…” Virgil seemed to struggle to find the words. Trying to lie already? Goodness, what a shame.

“No use lying to me, boy. Why are you here?”

“I ran away!” The truth finally came out in a rush.

“Right,” Deceit nodded. “And your first idea was to come here? That seems a little foolish, don’t you agree? What, were you looking to prove yourself? Hoping to earn your peers’ praise by pretending you’re brave?”

“N-No…” Virgil shook his head. “I came here because… Because…”

“Because…?”

“Because he wouldn’t follow me if I went into the mountains.”

Deceit paused. Forgetting his ‘dreaded warlock’ act for a second, he finally fully took in the boy in front of him. His thin frame, the hollowed out face. He squinted. Now that he took a closer look, there seemed to be something… Hiddenbehind the boy’s long bangs.

Virgil flinched as Deceit reached out his hand, but all he did was gently brush away his bangs from his eyes. Deceit’s breath hitched. Virgil’s left eye was almost swollen shut, dark purple and yellow bruising pulling most of his eye white from sight. It didn’t look like he had gotten it falling down. It looked to be at least a few days old.

“Oh dear…” Deceit said softly. “This world has hurt you terribly, hasn’t it…?”

Perhaps it was Deceit’s words, or his drastically gentler tone, but the fear seemed to disappear from the boy’s shaking frame. Confusion seemed to take its place as Virgil openly gawked at Deceit. Suddenly uncomfortable under the boy’s stare Deceit grappled to find back his control.

“Sssleep.” Deceit hurriedly commanded. Immediately Virgil’s eyes started drooping, and though he valiantly tried to fight it off it was no use. Deceit breathed a sigh of relief as Virgil’s head eventually nodded forward and he fell into a deep slumber.

Hoping to get rid of the uncomfortable ache in his stomach, Deceit finally focused on the boy’s ankle. As he unwrapped the boy’s improvised bandages he fought back a wince. Up close it was even worse than he had initially thought. The skin had broken, and if he saw it correctly through all the clotted blood the bone was actually sticking out. Not only that, but also the too warm skin and the beginning of blackened veins surrounding the wound suggested that the boy was developing an infection. This was not something he could just heal then and there. The boy needed five separate healing sessions at the very least.

He shook his head. No. No, this was not his problem. He would heal the boy just enough that he wouldn’t die for the next 24 hours and leave him at the edge of the mountains. He would go back to his life thinking this encounter was just a fever dream, and they would go their happy separate ways.

Except… What if he didn’t survive it? What if he couldn’t stop the infection from spreading to his heart, and the boy would die a miserable death before he could even reach his hometown again? Besides, there were still other predators on the loose. Deceit highly doubted a mountain lion or one of the Fair Folk would be as kind as him.

Not only that, what if the boy did somehow survive and didn’t think it was a dream? What if he told everyone about this encounter? Yes, most people would probably declare him crazy, but there would always be people who would believe him. Who would know the warlock they feared had not only spared, but also healed someone who went into his mountains. The reputation he had so carefully cultivated would slowly fall apart, and before you know it some brainless knights would march into the mountains again to come for him. He couldn’t let that happen!

Or, some traitorous part of Deceit whispered as he looked at the unconscious boy, what if the one he fled away from will find him first…?

He didn’t realize he had dug his talons into the flesh of his own palms until his skin broke and small beads of red trickled from his clenched fists. Cursing the traitorous little voice and every deity he could think of, Deceit spat out a spell under his breath. The boy levitated from the ground, his head rolling backwards like a marionette without its strings as he floated in mid-air. Deceit rose, already dreading the journey home.

How on earth was he going to explain this to Eris?

The sound of another hurl pulled him out of his memories. Deceit shook his head and grabbed the pitcher, which was full by now. There was no use dwelling on his past mistakes. All he had to do was make sure he wouldn’t repeat them.

Walking back to his newest student with the pitcher in hand, Deceit carefully thought over his next step. Perhaps it was wiser to not jump to his next course of action too quick. It appeared he was compromised anyhow. He shuddered. At first he had thought he had finally found the person who could actually successfully lie to him... Wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

But thank the stars that hadn’t been the case. He just hadn’t seen his honesty. True honesty… Now that was something he hadn’t seen in a long while. No wonder he hadn’t recognized it at first.

Nevertheless, better to tread more carefully. He had always prided himself on his talent to see right through people, but it appeared that his years of isolation had damaged that talent. Deceit snorted. Hell, if he didn’t know any better he would think Remus was attracted to him.

[thesurprisinglyqueertoast]

ADHD Tips!

I have amassed these over the past few years through both personal experience and from others online. If you don't have ADHD, still feel free to share and use these if you need! Many of the issues we struggle with are experienced by people without ADHD, and ADHD is often comorbid with many mental illnesses. Feel free to add on to this post or take and share these wherever you like.

Catagories are: General, Meds, Teeth, Laundry, Shower/Getting Dressed, Food, Water, Sleep, and Homework

General Tips:

Use alarms for everything you struggle with doing on time. Everything.

Most things with ADHD wre much easier to find a workaround for than to force yourself into doing.

If you have trouble with procrastinating, there is usually something specific stopping you. If you can't figure it out or can't stop it, just do your best to procrastinate by doing other things you need to do.

If you're able to, find other people to rely on to either help you or just be there for you.

Meds:

Use a pill organizer, even if you only take one pill. Being able to look at today's day and see if you've taken it is much easier if they're split into days.

If you have a hard time remembering to take them set yourself an alarm for every single day and keep your meds where you are most likely to take them.

If your meds taste bad, give yourself a treat after like some juice or a candy. If you can't eat after them then drink a good amount of water.

If you have a hard time taking meds at a certain time of day, ask your doctor if it would be alright if they were taken at another time. Some of my meds are normally instructed to be taken in the morning as they often cause sleeplessness, but I take them at night because I know for certain I can take them every day at night. Some meds really need to be taken at a specific time of day and if you take one like that, try to incorporate taking it into some sort of routine.

Teeth:

If you have a hard time brushing your teeth daily try to figure out why. If it's the toothpaste, buy a different toothpaste (kid's ones will taste more fun). If it's the toothbrush buy one with softer or firmer bristles. Kid's toothpastes will often lack the fluoride that helps protect your teeth, so be wary of that.

If you take meds, keep a toothbrush near them to try to associate brushing them after or before taking the meds. Dry brushing them is always better than not brushing them at all. Some people find that brushing their teeth in the shower works best. If you have several toothbrushes around the house and just brush your teeth when you see one, it will be much better for your teeth than brushing them with toothpaste only sometimes.

If you can't floss with normal floss, there are floss holders that work pretty well, or even water flossers. It's best to do it daily but I guarantee that flossing every so often is much better than not at all. If your gums bleed, be more gentle and do your best to be more regular so they bleed less. If they still bleed with regular gentle flossing be sure to talk to your dentist to try to figure out what's wrong.

Mouthwash is a good addition to your routine. Find one that you can tolerate. It's recommended and best to use it after brushing and not to dilute it, but if you can only use it by deluting it, something is still better than nothing.

Laundry:

I use pillow cases for my dirty laundry. For me it's the exact size of one load of laundry, and having several smaller bags if dirty laundry means that you can keep them in several places instead of just one designated basket. If there is one in reach wherever you remove your clothes you are more likely to put it in the dirty laundry than leave it out.

If you're the one buying the laundry soap and doing your own laundry, be sure to pick one that you like the smell of. I personally buy scentless laundry soap because the strong smells hurt my head.

Using a bag or basket that is the size of your washer and dryer means there is less commitment than hauling several loads of laundry.

If the worst part of doing laundry is folding clothes, don't fold them the way you're used to. Turn it into a game or hang them or stack them all up and fit them in your drawers that way. If you're home most of the time or wrinkles just don't matter to you, leave them in the bag or just shove them in your drawers. It takes up more space than doing it neatly and putting them away but sometimes it's just not worth it.

Shower/Getting Dressed:

If you have trouble picking clothes in the morning, do that at night. You can change your mind in the morning if you really want.

If you have trouble getting up and getting dressed, just put your clothes on the night before. If you sweat a lot in your sleep this might not be the best plan.

If you have a hard time showering regularly, try to figure out why. If it's the smells, find unscented or better smelling soaps. If it's what you use to wash your skin with, use a different thing or just use your hands. If it's the getting dry part, use one towel and switch it out to a new one when it gets damp.

Turn on the fan if it gets too hot or stuffy, or even crack the door when you're done showering so it cools down even quicker.

If you have a hard time showering because you don't do well with seeing your body, shower in the dark. There are night lights that plug directly into outlets that can provide some light without making it bright, or you can use candles.

If you have a hard time with standing that long, invest in a shower chair or try to find one at a thrift store.

Food:

Snacks are fantastic to keep in your room if you can. If you have any sort of pest problem or have pets, keep them in a sealed container. Juice boxes and pouches are also fantastic to be able to grab while you're In The Zone without having to think about it.

It's good to keep easy foods on hand for when you're just exhuasted or can't think of what to make. In our pantry, I have ravioli, oatmeal, microwave rice sides, stovetop rice sides, ramen (some made on the stove and some cup ramen), cereal, canned chili and soup, canned tuna, mac and cheese, instant potatoes and pasta with bottled sauce. In the freezer, the foods we always have are pizza, pizza rolls, fries, broccoli, waffles, sliced strawberries, and burritos. Be sure to pick foods you like and can make in a pinch.

Eggs are quick and easy, and you can even crack one in a mug and add salt and pepper, mix it and microwave it for a very fast snack. Potatoes and rice are filling and take more time but are a great base to other foods like eggs or sauce or cheese. Both can be made in the microwave if you don't have an oven or stove, it's too hot to use them, or you're worried about burning yourself. Make sure to wash the potato skin well if you're keeping it on.

You don't need to stick to the normal breakfast foods for breakfast, lunch foods for lunch, and dinner foods for dinner. If you love breakfast foods, make those for dinner. If you hate breakfast foods, make dinner foods for breakfast.

Try to incorporate fruits and veggies into your daily foods, but don't feel bad if you can't. There's no shame in not liking or being unable to eat some foods, just do your best to give your body the nutrients it needs. If your fresh fruits and veggies always go bad before you can use them, just buy frozen ones. Frozen fruits and veggies are usually frozen at peak ripeness and will last way longer than fresh. Some frozen veggies even come in microwavable bags for quick and easy cooking.

If you're stuck when making food, just eat the ingredients by themselves. This could be fruits, veggies, cheese, meats (unless it needs to be cooked first), and bread. I find that if I have a snack in the kitchen before making myself food, that's often enough to trick my brain into food mode and let's me make a meal.

When you're making yourself food, be sure to make leftovers! Don't make a huge amount unless you're willing to eat it for most meals so it doesn't go bad, but making just double or triple the food and storing it in the fridge is a very easy way to make less work for future you with only slightly more work for current you.

If you have trouble actually remembering to eat, set alarms or reminders for yourself, or even see if a friend can remind you to eat whenever they're eating. If there are meds you need to take with food, keep them near food so you remember to eat with them. If you feed a pet, eat before or after feeding them.

If you live with someone else, see if making food for more than just yourself makes it easier. If I need food and ask my partner if they also want food, it's always easier for me to make food when they also are hungry and need food.

Water:

Use several water bottles so you don't have to keep getting up to refill them. If it helps, you can have a morning water bottle, an afternoon water bottle, and an evening water bottle and try to have the water gone by the time you go to switch to the next one.

If you struggle to drink enough because you don't like water, try tea or adding fruit to your water or another water flavoring. Liquids that aren't water do also contain water! Soda will often make you thirstier, so try to make sure you're drinking things that aren't just that though.

Sleep:

Ignore what neurotypicals will tell you about sleep. They will tell you to only use your bed for sleep, but if you go to bed sooner if you read or scroll on your phone in bed than if you do it out of bed, do it in bed. Many sleep hygiene tips are the opposite of what is best for those of us with ADHD.

If you can't sleep with silence, try listening to music or a podcast as background noise. If you have a hard time sleeping in bed, move your blankets and pillow to the floor or a comfy chair. When I lived alone I would vary between sleeping on the bed and the couch.

If you wake up hungry in the middle of the night, eat closer to when you sleep. Common sleep advice is to not eat before sleeping but it's what works best for me. Alternatively, keep snacks by the bed. If you're worried about needing to brush your teeth after, keep a toothbrush by the snacks.

Melatonin and other sleep aides are often at least slightly helpful for people, and if you take them make sure you're following the instructions for how to make them most effective.

If you have trouble keeping a bed time, use alarms.

If all else fails, and you're able to, find a job or school that you can work around your sleep schedule. When I was able to work, I worked a swing shift job and got up at noon.

Homework:

I have not been in school in two years so these are from memory or what I've picked up from others since

Make a space to do homework that is free from distractions that will distract you fully. Use the background noise that helps you work best. The key to distraction and ADHD is learning what distractions are helpful and what distractions will get you off track. Neurotypicals will tell you that your space needs to be quiet and bare of anything interesting. Ignore them. If you have a hyperfixation at the moment, it is vital that you do not let it anywhere near your homework space. It will win over your attention with no effort. Use headphones if you are working in a public space. If you do need silence, headphones with no music playing can help, or use a pair of earmuffs or earplugs.

Take breaks when you feel you need them. Your math will not get done if you are having a meltdown from stress. Time how long you've spent on homework and then spend a fifth of that time as a break if you have time. Alternatively work for a half hour and take a short five minute break, or spend an hour and take a ten minute break. If you have a hard time refocusing after a break, don't do anything interesting during the break but instead do some stretches, have a snack, and get more water.

Don't try to do homework hungry. Have a snack before starting if you need to, and be sure to have water readily available.

If you have a lot of homework or several different subjects, take 5-10 minutes at the begining to organize what you are going to do. If possible, work on the thing that has the soonest due date, the most important to your grade, or the subject you have the lowest grade in. If you have a lot, do your best to alternate hard material and quick easy material to give your brain a bit of a break. If it helps, don't be afraid to pause your hard stuff to work on easy stuff for a bit if you have time.

If you need help, try to find someone that will actually help you in the way you need. If that's not possible, there are often YouTube videos on the subject you need help in. If you choose to find a video, I have found that it is best to find one in incognito mode (or a designated school google account) so YouTube does not suggest you videos you are interested in. This also helps to keep your school stuff from your fun stuff.

Finishing something partway is often better than not turning it in at all. This is something that is even more true in the "real world" than they lead you to believe in school.

[afterhoursfic]

I haven't been able to stop thinking about feral, calm power bottom Vesemir. Like Lambert's being snarky and teasing, so Vesemir holds him down and rides him till he can't think straight. Geralt fucking him over the dining table, eskel kissing and touching him whole he demands for more. He's a bidet man, you have to be to train cubs, and that def transfers into the bedroom. He's a man who knows what's he wants, and that's to be fucked senseless by his strong cubs.

This is literally platinum tier thinking anon

They can always tell with Lambert because he gets even more unbearable, always has a bit more venom in his words, and throws around insults whilst during training he’s constantly doing bad techniques to put the others off and do a dirty trick to try and get them face down into the stone. That’s when Vesemir steps in and practically scruffs the wolf before bringing him to his chambers with the order to strip, Lambert, of course, tells him to fuck off and in a quick movement, Vesemir has him turned, arms pinned behind his back and his neck bared as he tugs at his hair. They stay like that for a moment before Lambert relaxes a little in his grip, lets out a reluctant fine before shaking free of his grip to remove his clothes, it was all part of the game though, if Lambert hadn’t wanted this he wouldn’t have so easily let himself be dragged through the keep.

It’s easy enough to get Lambert on the bed, Vesemir holding the younger witchers hands above his head as he slowly starts to ride his cock. Sure he may be old but he’s still strong and he proves that by squeezing his grip around Lambert’s wrists, lets him know that he won’t be moving soon and will have bruises which won’t disappear until the next day, and he knows Lambert feels it too by the shudder that goes through him. It’s only when he gets a rushed apology from lambert and the promise to behave that he finally gives them both some relief and eagerly starts riding the other witchers cock. Even with their stamina he had been teasing and grinding and doing a whole manner of tricks for the last couple of hours in an effort to get Lambert to beg so it could almost be embarrassing how quickly they both come. He comes first and can already hear the old man joke on Lambert’s tongue, so with a couple rolls of his hips and a trick he learned decades ago in Novigrad he has Lambert coming soon after him, a dazed expression on his face as if he can’t quite believe it either.

Thankfully it’s not long before they’re hard again and he has a couple of more rounds where he gives riding Lambert his all and has the other witcher come a handful more times before he gives Lambert a bit more control, lets him dig his feet in and thrust up into him, the kind of mindless fucking where the goal is purely to get off and now it’s Lambert’s turn to get him to come over and over until the early hours of the morning. It’s then when they’re both sweaty and frankly gross given in how covered, and in Vesemir’s case, filled with come but Vesemir content that Lambert is more subdues now rolls them over so the younger witcher’s on top, lets him have complete control as they fuck one last time that night, coming together with small groans before Lambert cleans them both. Lambert is visibly different the next morning, still sarcastic and a bit of a brat, but tolerable, hell he even apologizes to Geralt for breaking his nose the day previous.

.

Geralt is very different in that he just wants to take all the time, or at least tries to. Often he will walk up and bend Vesemir over the table, either at breakfast or when he’s making decoctions to pull his pants down enough to slip a couple of slicked fingers into him. Some mornings he gives in, lets Geralt get away with the hasty prep and the brutal fucking afterward that leaves bruises on his hip from his fingers and on his neck from sharp teeth. Most of the time though he stops Geralt, makes him slow down, and strives to pleasure Vesemir rather than just himself and at least doing something more than just getting his dick wet.

So that’s how Eskel and Lambert find them most mornings, with Vesemir bent over the table and Geralt eagerly eating him, spit trailing down his neck with his cock out, hard and leaking precome over the floor whilst Vesemir insists they eat before training. Of course, he makes sure Geralt eats too, eventually, he pulls Geralt away and sits him in a chair, quickly taking his place on his lap and sinking onto his cock.

Slowly over breakfast, he’ll ride Geralt, feeding him bits of fruit or bread and cheeses, and only when Vesemir’s happy he’s had enough will he brace himself on the table and start eagerly riding Geralt, grinding his hips every now and then but snapping his hips up and down as he drives them both to orgasm. When he has a sheen of sweat covering him will Geralt grab his waist and start fucking up into him, the other two witchers having finished and cleaning up after breakfast until with a handful more thrusts and a hand on his cock first Vesemir comes over the table, the floor, even some on Geralt’s leg, but Geralt’s quickly following after and he lets the other witcher suck another mark onto his shoulder before he pulls away. He leaves Geralt to clean up their mess whilst he cleans up and gets ready for practice, because whoever would win their little bout would likely be fucking him over lunch.

.

Eskel is different in that he is so affectionate, eager to kiss and lick and worship every inch of him before slowly making love to him, because with him it never just felt like sex, it always felt like more. Sure time with all his pups were special but Eskel he felt like the center of the universe and it was heady having that sort of power.

The first few times the almost worship had been uncomfortable, at the end of the day he was still a witcher and he’s used to people being disgusted by him, and because of his age people were even less eager than brothels to be with him, no matter how much coin he offered.

However, one night when he made out with Eskel for literal hours, the younger witchers' hands roaming his back his sides, tracing his scars and turning away to kiss along his jaw or neck, made him breathless and desperate for the other man’s touch. Often times he has to direct Eskel otherwise they’d never get to having sex, sometimes he just lets the boy do what he wants whether that’s eating him out for hours, keeping his cock warm with his mouth, or just massaging across his whole body with firm but gentle fingers only to do it all again but with his mouth.

.

There are very few times where they all fuck Vesemir together. They all have different techniques and when they’d tried in the past they constantly fought over who got to fuck him, who got to kiss him, they would criticize each other on how they fucked when Vesemir really couldn’t care less he just wanted to get railed tbh, but decides it’s for the best, there’s still time to train them later. They work better on their own for now, occasionally two of them will team up on him and being split open on both ends is always wonderful.

During winter though they each chose a random day to be their birthday, they’re far too old and have been through far too much shit to remember their actual birthday, but for one day whoever’s birthday it is is king of the keep and essentially whatever they say goes. With Vesemir it’s always easy, it’s just bringing enough food into his room and the three of them for once fucking Vesemir any and every way he wants for days because that’s what he deserves with the last day culminating in having two of them in his ass and another in his mouth, they rotate every few rounds and honestly, Vesemir has never been so blissed out. Afterward though they all need to take a few days off not just from fucking but training as well to recover their strength.

[ranposlittle]

darling,I don’t want to be kinda annoying,but I just love him👉🏻👈🏻could you please do a nsfw scenario with mori where he punishes his gf for misbehaving (please include spanking omg)love you!!

!! NSFW !!

Warnings: Spanking, Orgasm denial

A/N: No no~ you’re never annoying! (⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝) keep sending in any requests you have, it keeps me busy in this quarantine. Also, I hope you don’t mind that this is a Fem!Reader. It’s just for convenience. This one is based on this song and I hope you enjoy this! Thank youuu! ♥️ ((Sorry again for the delayyy))

***

You’ve figured it out. No matter how funny it may sound, Mori likes brats. He has expressed many times how much he loves you as his partner, however, you cannot swallow down your bitter jealousy anymore when he’s clearly spending every day paying more attention to his personified ability, Elise, than to you. He would coax her and please her, making her try all the dresses he just bought for her, and only calling you when he needs a warm bed. You cannot tolerate it anymore.

You wanted to be as good as possible to him but apparently, that’s not his type. So you thought, you’ll play the game he wants and he’ll bend over backwards for you too in no time. It’ll be fine, you thought, you’ll just misbehave a little, tell bits of lies here and there, you’ll just be bad enough that Mori will chase after you, like he does with Elise.

However, it’s been a week of your antics now and you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself. You’ve spent your days jumping up and down the bed with the radio on full blast while you sing along at the top of your lungs even if you’re well aware that Mori has company, leaving your bed messy and your clothes all over the floor, getting out of the bathroom while soaking wet despite the new luxurious carpet he just ordered; you behaved with no inhibitions, even telling Mori to get lost when he tells you off. Frankly, you didn’t thought that you’d actually like this, thinking to yourself that maybe you’ll just be like this every day from now on.

Tonight, Mori and his executives are meeting some important people for lunch in a high-end restaurant and he wanted you to come along. He insisted to dress you up, for the first time in a long time, because he bought a new dress for you. You let him, smirking to yourself as you enjoy the fruits of your labor.

“Princess,” Mori called and you rolled your eyes with that weird nickname he gave you, “I want you to behave properly today, okay?”

You puffed your cheeks, mumbling to yourself how he didn’t have to tell you what to do. You feigned obedience, telling him that you won’t do anything ridiculous before sticking your tongue out at him once he turned his back. And here you are now, in the middle of lunch, bored out of your mind as you play with the indistinguishable mush on your plate.

“Please don’t play with your food, princess,” Mori asked humbly.

“But it looks so disgusting! Do you really expect me to eat this trash?” Your fork clanged as you threw it on your plate and the people around the table started to whisper. Mori looked around and gave them an apologetic smile.

“C'mon, princess. This is not the time for your games,” Mori leaned closer and held one of your shoulders.

“This is boring! I want to go home, now!” You gave Mori a deadly glare and your stare didn’t falter even if his eyes narrowed and his jaws clenched.

“You’re making a fool out of me. Behave,” he lowered his voice into almost a whisper, “or I’ll punish you.”

Your venomous stares lingered on for a few seconds as Mori waits for an answer from you, his sharp eyes silently demanding immediate obedience.

“No,” you retorted in his face, “I won’t.”

Mori studied you for a few seconds before standing up. He addressed the people on the table, saying that he’ll have to delegate down the authority for all of today’s businesses to one of his executives as his partner is ill and must be taken home promptly. He bid them a formal goodbye and practically dragged you out of the restaurant by your arm before you can even fight back. He pushed you inside the car waiting outside before getting in himself, ordering the chauffeur to drive back home as fast as he can.

Once back home, he hauled you inside the bedroom, ignoring your protests, and threw you on the bed. He slumped on the chair across the room and drew a heavy sigh. You can clearly see how worked up he is as he pushed back a chunk of hair that fell on his face from the commotion.

“You’ve been acting like a total brat lately, haven’t you?” Mori exhaled, his dark eyes being illuminated by the noon sun. You reciprocated with a proud look on your face to show that you’re not intimidated, not in the slightest.

“Come here,” he commanded. You didn’t move an inch from where you are and continue to have a staring contest with Mori. His eyes grew even darker as he deliver a threat, “I won’t ask you again.”

You flinched for some reason, but you deny that it’s because of fear. You slowly stood up from the bed and made your way to him. You stopped a foot away from him and he pulled you by the wrists, spun you around and swiftly sliding off his crimson scarf from his neck to tie your hands together behind you.

“W-what are you doing? Have you gone crazy?” You struggle from the fabric but it’s already been tightly secured.

“No, but you clearly have,” Mori then grabbed you by your restraints and bend you over his lap, your belly pressing hard against his thighs.

“You were crazy enough to disrespect me and think I’ll just keep letting it slide just because I was busy these past few days,” he flicked your dress upwards, exposing your bum and nearly ripped your panties off. “No, you deserve to be punished.”

He held you firmly in place by the knot on your wrists and just watched you as you flail on your position, screaming curses at him. Anger swell up inside of you until it bursted out of your mouth without a thought.

“I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

Mori raised his hand and—SMACK!—your screamed echoed throughout the whole room accompanied by the ringing of the slap that landed harshly on your rear. The sting danced around your skin as tears prickled at the corner of your eyes. You shot an aggressive look back at Mori who’s gazing at you as well with a devilish smile on his face.

“Aw, did that hurt, brat?” Mori teased as he smoothed his palm on your reddened ass, tickling the sensitive skin.

Before you can even talk back, he landed another powerful spank and your body rocked forward with the impact. You pressed your lips together to muffle another cry but when Mori delivered another smack that landed a little lower, the vibrations reaching your pussy, you mewled loudly and whined at the unwanted twitching of your pussy. You can’t possibly be aroused with this.

“You’re secretly enjoying this, aren’t you?” Mori stated, rubbing his palm on your ass once again, groping them at times. “You want me to remind you who you belong to and who’s in charge here. You challenged me until I had no choice but to punish you, is that right?”

Your mind raced. This isn’t exactly what you expected to happen but you did want to have his attention and now you got it, does that make him right?

“You know I’m right,” he said as if reading your mind. “But don’t worry. It’ll be my absolute pleasure to remind you. I think I already gave you three spanks now but we both know that’s not enough. Why don’t you be a doll and count the next spanks I’ll give you, hmm?”

Before you can think of any snark comeback, you shrieked as a sharp slap hit you once more and you’re not quite sure if it was a sweat or a tear that ran down your face just now.

“I didn’t hear a count, let’s try that again,” Mori gave you another in a flash and your whole body quaked from the shock. You didn’t thought that Mori’s spanks can be anymore powerful but it just did.

“AH! F-our…” You cried out. Your mind seemingly came up with the quick decision that the best course of action right now is just to cooperate.

“There you go,” Mori praised in a singsong voice. “Now count louder this time.”

“Five!” You shouted as soon as you felt the whack on your butt, the growing neediness in your core making itself more present and your legs rubbed together unconsciously.

“Looks like a brat is getting excited,” Mori remarked before getting into position for the next blow.

“Six!” You strained out after a whimper. The hit landed once again near your pussy, sending shivers up your spine.

“Seven– ha– ah– eight! Ahn! N-ni-ne!” You stuttered as Mori spanked you in a quick succession, the burning sting in your ass topping over the other.

“G-God! Ten!” You groaned. Mori’s palm slammed into your ass one last time, your whole body vibrated from his bruising force. His hits almost sounded like a whip and you can still hear its ringing in your ears.

You hanged your head limply as you feel the throbbing ache in your muscles. Whimpering every now and then whenever the prickling sensation crawling on your skin get stronger.

“You took them all like a champion. That’s impressive,” Mori said with a pleased smile. “But that’s just half of your punishment. We both know that a good little brat like you deserves so much more.”

Mori manhandled you like a sack of potatoes to have you sit on his lap. Your sore ass pressed on his leg and you yelped from the pain. Mori grabbed the sides of your face, making you look directly at his eyes. His gaze locked in yours, and you can’t look away as his other hand slithered in between your legs and a finger ran down your slit.

“No,” you moaned, not wanting Mori to see how your overly sensitive and wet pussy quiver with the slightest touch. “Not there.”

“Not here? But I own this, remember? I can use it however I want,” Mori growled in your ear.

The fabric around your wrists tightened as you ball your fists, trying not to crumble completely as Mori started to slowly draw circles on your clit. Your legs immediately shaking from the pleasure.

“Tell me, brat, who do you belong to?” Mori purred in your ear. “Look me in the eyes and tell me.”

You gasped as the motion of his fingers raced, your nerves seemingly being shook awake. You threw your head back and fixed your begging eyes on his hungry ones. He closely observed your flustered face, your lidded eyes, your sweaty cheeks, down to your parted lips as they move to whisper the answer he craved to hear.

“You, Mori-san,” you breathed out. “I belong to you.”

Mori’s lips pulled into a menacingly satisfied smile, plunging a slender finger inside your hole. You gasped and tensed on his lap, his finger quickly wriggling around your walls.

“That’s it,” Mori said in a quiet voice, his breath tickling your ears. “Say it again. Say it louder. Who owns this pretty little brat, hmm?”

“Mori-san!” You cried as another finger joined to wriggle inside you, stretching your opening. “I belong to Mori-san. This brat belongs to Mori-san.”

With tears in the rim of your eyes, you kept your focus on him, afraid that he’ll stop if you look somewhere else. Your whole body, seemingly being shot with pulses of electricity when Mori curl his fingers upwards, stiffened and you were made aware again of the ache in your ass every time you squirm. You cried out Mori’s name louder as pain and pleasure mixed in harmony, futher upping your bliss. You feel it coming. Your eyes rolling back as you render speechless, being able to only moan and cry Mori’s name as he finger-fucks you into ecstasy. He’s whispering soft assurances in your ear, letting you know how pleased he is with your submission to him, your stubbornness dissipating the moment he spanked you and how amazed he is that no matter how bratty you act, you’ll immediately surrender once he touch your pussy because all you really want is for him to fuck you. After all, you’re his dirty girl. Mori’s vulgar coaxing pushed you further into the edge and you plead for him to let you come.

“Aww, my brat wants to come, huh? Well,” his fingers halted, to your horror. “That’s just too bad.”

You panicked, just a little bit more and you’ll reach heaven, so you bucked your hips into his hand for more friction but without much success and to make things even worse, Mori just started to pull his fingers out and you can hear the squelch from your juices.

“Sorry, princess. That’s part of your punishment,” Mori said innocently. You whimper as your neediness for release became painful to bear. You wanted to cry right then and there, beg Mori to let you come even just once and you’ll be the bestest girl for him. Mori kissed your forehead and started to undo his scarf on your wrists.

“Mori-san, please,” you pleaded as your core continues to throb. Mori can see the pain in your eyes and he knows you’ll be willing to do almost anything right now for him to finish the job.

“Alright then, tell me,” he smiled at you warmly, a noticeable difference from his demeanor earlier. “Did you really mean it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I belong to you, Mori-san. I’m your brat, okay? I surrender,” You said playfully putting your hands up in the air.

“No,” Mori chuckled and hugged your back, your eyes widened with his sudden affection. “I mean when you said that you hate me, do you mean it?”

Your eyes lowered, immediately feeling the guilt from the way you were treating him all this time. Maybe you’ve gone way out of line with that one. You love him, after all, and that still hasn’t changed.

“No,” you muttered. “I was just angry. I don’t really hate you.”

“And what did I do to anger my princess now, hmm?” Mori mused, feeling slightly better. You’re the last person he would ever want to hate him and he doesn’t want that day to ever come.

You debated with yourself whether to tell him but feeling Mori’s sincerity, you’ve decided it’ll be just fair, “I was jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

You pouted, now feeling slightly embarrass with your reasons, “Elise.”

“Elise?” Mori adjusted you to face him, genuinely curious about your sentiment. “Why are you jealous of her? We’ve already talked about this, right? You’re different from her.”

“I know. I know. It’s just,” you retorted and averted your eyes. “You spend all your time with her every day and I thought that maybe, if I’ll just be like her then you’ll spend more time with me, too.”

Mori took a few seconds to fully grasp what you just said before laughing heartily. Your frown deepened. You just pour your heart out and here he is, laughing his ass off. You were about to tell him off when he suddenly cupped your face and kiss you. Your lips melted on each other as you wrap your arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” Mori expressed when he pulled back from your lips, “I should’ve known that you felt that way and I shouldn’t have allowed it. I should’ve made you feel special, because you are. And I shouldn’t make you forget it. I’m sorry, my princess.”

Your heart skipped. All of your anger and frustration evaporated from your chest with Mori’s sweet honesty. You cannot keep acting like you’re heartless when he’s this vulnerable. You buried your face on his chest, hiding the drop of tears running down your face. Mori stroked your hair and held you closely by his chest for a few minutes.

“Although, I kinda liked punishing you. You look so cute being bratty,” Mori cooed, squeezing you tighter.

He really knows how to ruin a mood. You pouted and pushed him back, “Well, you’re in luck because I’m not done messing with you just yet.”

Mori’s eyes glimmered in excitement, a smirk formed on his lips once again. “Then, I guess I have no choice but to fuck you into submission, huh?”

You both know this is just the beginning of your newfound game. As a matter of fact, you already have something planned. You’ve always wondered how Mori would feel if you scatter Legos all over the office for him to step on and you’re just thrilled to find out.

“I’d like to see you try,” You smirked back as Mori carried you to bed.

[unmanageable-day]

By your side : intermezzo

How the cold summer started getting warmer

previously ➺ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | intermezzo 01 - 02 | 06 

Who doesn't know the only Korean-American guy in the office, the tallest, the super hard-working, and the one and only Mark Lee's brother from another mother? Contrary to his giant figure which made other people feel intimidated, everyone would say John Seo was the kindest, the sweetest, and the most warm-hearted person. Of course, you knew that. Your girl friends were friends with him too. While you only considered him as merely a colleague. You had worked with him several times for collaborative projects in either fashion industry, editorial or just some new stuff he wanted to try out. Eventually you made some friends with his buddies; Mark, Taeyong and Doyoung for instance since you met them much more often outside work. Johnny himself? You'd consider him not even more than an acquaintance in professional world.

"Have you heard? This weekend we're going to have a get-together for all departments," Yeri informed excitedly.

"Yeoreum, you will come, right?" Sooyoung, as excited as well, asked.

You shrugged and sighed. "If I don't have to work overtime, I might consider going."

"What are you talking about? We don't have that much work." Yeri got you. Working overtime had been always your reason not going to any kind of party and get-together unless it was a company dinner.

"Come on. It will be fun," Wendy convinced you.

The girls succeeded making you end your work quite soon on the big day of the get-together everyone but you had been waiting for. The company reserved a pretty fancy private room and let the employees choose their own seats instead of arranging them by departments. Sooyoung who arrived earlier had secured the seat for you girls, which happened to be on the same table with Johnny, Mark and the other boys.

"Summer noona, I'm glad to see you here." Mark cheerfully greeted you, followed by Yuta, Taeyong, and Doyoung who were pretty much closer with you than any other acquaintances. Beside Doyoung seated the big guy, no other than your professional colleague, Johnny Seo.

"Summer, you remember Johnny," Taeyong said.

"Yeah, we worked together for some projects." You bowed your head to him, and he did the same.

It was a non-formal occasion yet you wore your professional smile and attitude. Whereas the others, including the managers and top bosses were pretty much casual. You spent almost your whole time there being quiet, or just listening to the girls and the guys sharing stories about this and that. Without you knowing, since you literally were minding your own world, Johnny had been observing you in the most subtle way possible.

Being acquaintance as he was, Johnny had no idea who you were except your name and your position in the company. In his opinion, you did your job well. You were agile, creative, able to manage multiple tasks, yet remained to be sane. He realized one thing, that when it came to personal relationship, it seemed like you were a different person. Sometimes he did wonder how Mark and Taeyong could befriend you—or at least gained the title of more than acquaintance—when he was the one you had worked with the most compared to his best dudes. Also, he noticed that your circle of friends were not big, especially in terms of number. So he just concluded that you were the 'quality over quantity' type—which was a good thing, although Johnny himself was the total opposite since he was a social butterfly.

"Now that I think of it, don't you feel it? Like, there is this weird atmosphere around us," Mark suddenly said.

"Probably it's because some of us are not friends. Yet." Yeri grinned, her eyes giving signs to Mark and Sooyoung.

"Who?" Taeyong bluntly asked.

"Yeoreum and Johnny!" Yeri cheered.

"For real though, they were, kind of awkward," Mark added.

You denied it, quickly waving your hand and faking a friendly laugh.

ㅡ 🐯

"Is this Yeoreum girl always like this?" Johnny tried to sound as cool as possible asking Mark about you. He continued speaking added with his hands gesture, which was showing that he was trying to find good words. "Like, she exudes icy image or something. Like, she doesn't look as warm as her name. Summer literally just started yet it feels cold around her, but not cold cold, more like cool cold, you know what I mean? Wait, I don't mean it in a bad way."

Mark chuckled. "Are you saying you're interested in Summer noona?"

"No." That was the quickest answer he ever gave. Mark would tell that Johnny was totally in denial. Especially after how you very politely 'rejected' him when he showed his intention to be friends, to be more than acquaintance at work, by saying 'we're good'. Now, which part of you and him being merely acquaintances that is 'good', if whenever you two meet randomly at office, the only word you say is 'hi'?

At least being friends would do no harm. Even better; he could hang out with fhe guys, plus you and the girls comfortably. Not more than that, for the time being. But who knows it just made him more curious about you.

"You know I could set you up with her. I'll talk to Yeri and Wendy noona."

Johnny responded, saying "Yeah, yeah, do as you please." as if he didn't care. Deep down inside, his heart was racing like never before. As a social butterfly, he always liked meeting new people, making new friends. But why did this one make his heart flutter?

Since then, Mark would excitedly arrange some scenarios to do with Yeri's help. These would include mostly lunch together. Baby steps, Mark would say. Yeri suggested that moving too fast would make you uncomfortable. Unfortunately this effort took forever as you still didn't talk much with Johnny. He tried and he always brought the best of himself, yet you just sort of shut him away.

"She hates me," Johnny stated, sipping his remaining ice americano in frustration in the lounge room with Mark and Taeyong.

"No, she doesn't." Mark tried to boost the big boy's mood.

"How did you guys make friends with her?"

Taeyong shrugged. "We shared similar preferences, I guess? For food, at least." Soon, Taeyong started to give Johnny a short list of 'the similar preferences' of food. Coffee was a big no-no. Sweets were like heaven. Spicy food was so-so, kind of okay and tolerable.

Johnny made a face. "That's a lot and very detailed information. Thank you very much, Mr. Lee."

ㅡ 🐯

"Yeoreum, don't be so hard on Johnny." Yeri used her cuteness to 'scold' you because of your too-honest personality towards Johnny.

"I'm not."

The blond girl sighed. "At least try to respond with friendlier manner when he talks to you. Don't treat him like an acquaintance."

"He is an acquaintance." You emphasized your words. 

"Yes, and so is Mark. But Mark is also a friend, who is more than just a colleague."

To you, even the words coming out from Yeri's mouth didn't make any sense. Mark did not befriend you in a snap of a finger. He actively asked you this and that, always paid attention to little details. Also he would always come to you first in every chance he got. And he could keep the personal space in the most professional way that you didn't feel disturbed. Later your favoritism grew bigger towards this boy.

"I know where you're going, Yeri. You know it's not easy for me to start mutual relationship. Let alone people like him. They will get bored with me, like, right away."

"Mark isn't."

Again. The non-sense. "You can't compare people like that. Johnny is not Mark, and Mark is not Johnny."

"I understand your point. Johnny can be a bit... overwhelming." Finally Wendy spoke up. She had been actively listening to you and Yeri bickering. Sometimes she was amazed at how persuasive Yeri was, and at how stubborn you were. Although this time, she actually agreed with you. Wendy would offer her life to be your shield if something bad happens. As she understood your concern, she didn't want you to push yourself for something you might regret later.

"But, Yeoreum, you never know if you don't give it a try." Yeri and her non-stop effort to encourage you.

— 🐯

"Yeoreum, we're having lunch at the pasta house nearby. Join us." Yeri linked her arm with yours as she practically dragged you even before you said something. She made you sit on the edge with Johnny across you. There were always pros and cons at the same time about being in a group and you sitting on the edge. Being the furthest from center would mean getting the least attention, and the least you had to join the group conversation since you couldn't hear and be heard very well. As for today, having Johnny Seo sitting right in front of you suddenly increased your desire to sit in the middle, beside Taeyong and Doyoung. Unfortunately, seated next to you, Yeri was against it even before you asked for it.

"Do you like pasta?" Johnny initiated conversation.

"Occasionally."

"Tomato sauce or cream sauce? In 1, 2, 3..." he suddenly played a game.

And the weirdest thing was you fell for it. You said cream, whereas Johnny said tomato.

He cooed cheerfully, probably feeling proud of himself that you actually played along.

"How about pizza?" he asked again when a pan of pizza was delivered to your table. "Pineapple or no pineapple? In 1,2, 3..."

"I don't even eat pineapple," you firmly stated, making Johnny, a true lover of pineapple on top of pizza, gasp dramatically. Unconsciously, you chuckled at his reaction.  "I don't think fruits go well with bread, tomato sauce, pepperoni and cheese," you explained yourself with the most serious expression, as if you were arguing for an important position in a project.

"I think I will have to take you the greatest pizzeria in Korea, or maybe in the whole world, so you will know the beauty of pineapple as pizza toppings."

You were not sure how to respond that. Shrugging while wiggling slowly your eyebrows, you started to eat whatever available before your eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

Johnny grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."

Starting from there, Johnny's journey to get to know you better had officially begun. You could no longer avoid him because he was persistent, in the nicest way possible. He would always try to liven the mood up by throwing jokes and laughing at anything that could be laughed at. Mostly it was anything Mark did. It was almost never only the two of you. Probably this was the main reason you eventually felt comfortable with him around. The cold appearance you used to wear slowly changed and you started to be more welcoming to Johnny. He was succeeded in making himself a part of your daily life. At the office and during lunch time, at least. You were not sure though whether he was a friend now.

Soon, came the day when he thought he was ready to explore how it would be outside the office life.

On a fine summer day, Johnny gathered his courage to prepare the most cheesy event to confess. This big guy actually came to the office wearing a Frozen-themed costume when it wasn't even Halloween. He also got his buddies to dress too. Even looking from a far, you got the secondhand embarrassment and honestly you just wanted to run away the moment you heard your name called several times. Unfortunately, Mark and Yeri ran to you pulling you closer to stand before Johnny who was ready with his big smile and some flowers in his hands.

"I think I like you, Song Yeoreum. You are not like the other girls. You are different. You are cold and mysterious like an ice princess that you maybe the best to play the role of Elsa. And it makes me want to be Olaf for you. If you let me, I'd like to explore this great feeling with you, to figure things between you and me as a person. Not an acquaintance, not a colleague, and obviously not just a friend."

You stared at him, genuinely surprised. You scanned around to find your friends cheering on him.

"We are almost like the north and south pole. That's how different we are. But looking at the bright side, I think it would be an amusing journey to be with you. Just like Olaf who gets his own summer from Elsa, would you, ice princess, be my summer?"

[aphrodites-law]

My Favorite

Trope: Soulmate marks.

Twist: Lexa doesn’t have one. Clarke does.

2/? - (Part 1)

~

A week passed at the hotel, but while Lexa glanced into the sitting room each time she walked by it, she never saw Clarke again. She went back and forth between the hotel and her apartment, putting her boxes away while the windows remained opened wide and the smell of paint slowly faded. Eventually she checked out of Griffin Hotel, where Jake gave her a cheery look before sending her off with a basket of fresh fruit from the breakfast buffet - a welcome gift, he’d said.

With her first classes to plan and organize, Lexa spent most of her time with her nose in her books and binders. She used the rest of it to familiarize herself with Polis, where she picked up a few habits in a matter of days. There was the grocery store with the peanut-butter pretzels that melted in her mouth, the bicycle path that cut through the park, and the coffee shop owned by Raven Reyes.

Raven ran a tight ship and was as welcoming as she was fascinating. Her two loves were space and food, and evidently she had combined them with great success. Her shop, Coffee on the Moon, was exactly what it sounded like - the best damn coffee Lexa had had in a uniquely decorated setting. The coffee machines were themed like space crafts, which Lexa had noticed were wildly popular with kids (and perhaps even more adults); the walls were painted in swaths of silvers and dark blues; and the art hung up was courtesy of local artists. In the display case, well-garnished sandwiches made with local produce rarely lasted the day, if even the rush of lunch hour.

Raven seemed to know everyone and everything, an unsurprising fact given her infectious energy. One morning, Raven had come into her shop without her prosthetic leg on account of the pain, she had shared casually, but not once in the following hour had Lexa heard her complain. She was an admirable woman, and Lexa was particularly fascinated by how quickly she had charmed Anya.

Anya, who wouldn’t admit to feeling lonely while her daughter was at summer camp, had surprised Lexa with a visit that had turned into a week-long stay. She’d met Raven quickly enough, and immediately Lexa had noticed the change in her demeanor. Usually always on her guard, Anya had seemed to... soften around the edges in a matter of minutes. It was clear to Lexa that Raven had caught Anya’s eye, not only with her wit but also her ability to run such a good business.

Unfortunately for Anya, who didn’t like to be surprised by her own feelings, she dealt with attraction rather poorly. That is, she’d be ready to snap if Lexa so much as implied there was something there. Lexa, however, could understand her need for caution: Anya was a working mother who would soon leave back to her home, hours away. It was hard to envision this relationship having a future.

And, surely, it would have remained that way had Raven not suddenly noticed the tattoo on Anya’s wrist and shown off her own: a depiction of the moon with the logo of her coffee shop covering the words she’d had since birth.

“Got it at twenty-five when my boyfriend of ten years dumped me for some chick he didn’t even know,” she explained.

When Lexa looked toward Anya then, she knew her friend’s interest was piqued for good. It was rare to meet anyone who had willingly tattooed their mark like Anya had. 

“A decade gone to dust because some skinny redhead told him what he’d always hoped to hear,” Raven revealed with a snort.

“So you don’t believe in the mark?” Anya asked cautiously.

“Oh, I do.”

As equally confused as her best friend, Lexa invited Raven to sit with them at their table. 

“I just don’t think the way we go about it works,” Raven elaborated. “Just because you meet - it doesn’t have to mean you’re right for each other at that exact moment, you know?”

“Or at all,” Lexa muttered.

“Well, I do think there’s truth to it,” Raven admitted. “It’s fucking beautiful, really, if we just see it as it is, but we have a messy approach.”

Lexa shook her head. “It’s just always seemed like... Do you love the person because of who they are, or do you love them because the words on your wrist tell you to?"

Raven smirked, like she had asked herself the same question a hundred times before. To do so aloud, however, was bold. “The way I see it? Just because your souls are bonded, doesn’t mean the relationship doesn’t need work. Sure, most movies show us it's happily ever after once the first words are uttered, but in reality the words are just the beginning. It's not easy to go from perfect stranger to soul-tied, you know?"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Cry me a river."

Raven shrugged. "If it weren't so taboo to admit you're unhappy with your soulmate, maybe some would realize it's because they're taking it for granted. My friend, Bellamy - his soulmate was this broody chick who straight up punched him for sleeping with her friend. Insulted the shit out of him; word for word the string of insults that wrap around his wrist four times. Anyway, she didn't give a shit when he showed her. Took them three years to meet again, and then another three to even like each other. Now they're expecting their first kid. But I think the best thing they did was to grow as people. The mark showed them the possibility for something life-changing was there - but they'd have to work for it first."

Lexa glanced at Anya, who had yet to look away from Raven.

"Look, I know it's fucked how you're treated," Raven continued, "but I don't think the mark itself is to be blamed. I mean, I think it was designed as a way to make life a little easier, that's all. But then… I don't know, most civilizations blew it out of proportion and turned it into something else. Decided that those who have it are better than those who don't - and backed up their points by turning the exceptions into the rule. That people without a mark are going to steal your jewelry or murder your kids one day, just because this one markless dude some thousands of years ago happened to be an ax murderer. Everyone loves to forget that ancient Egypt worshipped the Markless. They believed that they were in control of their own fate - freer. And don't get me started on the Greeks! They had whole temples dedicated to them. There's a reason the statues of their Gods didn't have marks, but nobody likes to bring that up.”

“Moral superiority is one hell of a drug,” Anya shrugged.

Raven chuckled. “I don't think anyone is better than anyone; it's just a bunch of people trying to be happy."

"Well, you're definitely an exception,” Lexa sighed. “I’ve been reminded of my place in the world enough times to know that.”

Raven was about to reply when the door to the shop opened. When Lexa saw that it was Clarke who had just walked in, her heart jumped in her throat.

“You’re back!” Raven exclaimed before getting up to pull Clarke into a hug. “How was it? How’s your mom?”

Clarke grinned in the embrace before pulling back to sign something. Lexa watched with rapt attention, trying hard to follow the movement of Clarke’s hands, but understanding none of her language in the end. She watched as Raven tipped her head back and laughed.

“Classic Abby Griffin.”

Clarke then pulled out a heavy paper bag from her backpack and gifted it to her friend, who immediately looked inside.

“Yes!” Raven turned to Anya and Lexa. “Best goddamn blueberry pierogi in the country!”

Clarke looked toward them as well and gave Lexa a small wave.

“You’ve met?” Raven asked. 

Clarke quickly signed something. Raven blinked, then burst out laughing.

“Oh fine, just go, you idiot.”

Clarke bit her lip before dashing toward the coffee shop’s restroom. Anya got up as well.

“I’ll be right back,” she excused herself.

Alone with Raven, who was now counting the pierogi in the bag, Lexa’s curiosity got to her.

“Are you good friends?”

Raven turned to her and nodded. “Clarke and I got each other through everything. There wouldn’t be a Coffee on the Moon without her.”

Lexa found incredible strength in Raven’s ability to be so open. “I wouldn’t be here without Anya,” she admitted in turn.

“How long have you known each other?”

“Since college. Anya... just helped me believe that I was more than the missing part.”

Raven’s face fell. “Shit. I’m really sorry."

Lexa shook her head. “It’s fine. Just made me who I am today.”

“No, it’s not fine. You know - Polis doesn’t tolerate that. We have each other’s backs here, mark or no mark. I think you’ll notice when you start teaching the kids. They really give me hope.”

Lexa smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Clarke and Anya came back from the restroom together, not exactly chatting but... Lexa could tell they’d communicated something to each other by the small smile on Clarke’s face. Anya sat back down at the table while Clarke signed something to Raven.

“Oh okay,” Raven answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Clarke nodded before she glanced once more at Lexa, mouthed ‘bye’, and left the shop. 

Raven turned to the table. “Okay, well, I need to put the pierogi in the fridge and make some calls, but let me know if you need anything.”

Lexa sat back in her chair with a sigh. She watched Anya pick up her cup of coffee and then smirk.

“She doesn’t have one.”

Lexa frowned slowly. “What?”

Anya chuckled, then took a sip of her coffee. “You’re so obvious, you know? I figured I’d check when she washed her hands.”

Lexa immediately sat up, hope blossoming dangerously in her chest. “She... doesn’t have-”

“Nope.”

Lexa worried her bottom lip before grabbing her phone. Anya didn’t seem fazed in the least.

“Are you buying a hundred books on sign language?”

Lexa swiped something on her screen. “Yep.”

-

Part three