#will i ever put them on paper? no one knows.

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 4

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; slow-burnish; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff/domesticity; humour; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Whenever Simon spares you a glance to remind himself that this new and strange arrangement is real, he finds you staring right back at him somehow.

Always making eye contact; holding his unwavering gaze with a silent expectation that makes his chest feel tight and his brain go numb, grappling for answers. Multiple times he's caught himself biting the tip of his tongue harshly to refrain himself from barking “What?” at you, demanding an answer in exchange for his cluelessness: What do you want from me?

He's building a mountain of expectations in his mind involuntarily while lacking the gear and a strategy in how to climb it properly. It's too high, and he knows he can never reach the top unscathed.

How can he possibly take care of you if he can barely take care of himself outside of what is required of him? He keeps himself fit, alive, able to function, always ready to follow an order and go in for the kill. That’s what he knows, what he’s comfortable with, but this?

Simon doesn't play house, doesn't know how to handle something so... domestic and delicate. He never experienced it growing up, never witnessed normalcy. If he would care about such things now, he’d have a wife or something akin to one, but he doesn’t–never even had a partner before, never bothered to believe himself fit for dating, for letting someone in like this.

Even the soft clothes you're wearing make him recoil; pastel colours having the opposite effect of red to a bull–so odd and out of place to him, and he knows the callouses on his fingers would simply catch on the fabric if he were ever to reach out to you for whatever reason, like a sheep’s fine wool catching on a thorn brush, scratching and tearing.

“What would you like for dinner?”

Simon blinks twice, thrice, before the question comes through his thick skull, vision slowly clearing despite him having stared at you for the past minutes while you were sitting on his couch patiently the whole time, eager as ever now that he willingly took you back to his flat again.

Why did you even sign the handlership without knowing him at all beforehand? Are you really that oblivious? That naïve? Or did the brass coax you into signing it?

“Simon?”

The way you keep saying his name so casually, makes his chest ache, makes him inhale sharply each time. What would he like for dinner? It should be such a simple question, but it seems like a puzzle to him–a thousand pieces, all in the same bloody colour.

“Why? Ya offering to cook for me, lass?” He snorts humourlessly. It's ridiculous. No one cooks for him unless he goes to the mess hall to get some grub.

“Of course, I'd love to!” You answer immediately, flashing a genuine smile. His eyes flicker to your tail when it starts to wag again and he curls his lips under his mask. Isn't he supposed to take care of you? What even is this bloody handlership? His brows draw together quizzically, making that deep crease reappear between them. Perhaps he should’ve read it before putting his signature on the damn paper.

Then he sighs in resignation. “Do whatever you want, just stay out of my room,” he replies and makes a half-hearted gesture towards the kitchen. “Not sure wha’s in the fridge. Been a few days since I went to the store,” he admits begrudgingly, kissing his teeth in annoyance when his stomach grumbles.

“Well then,” you say tentatively, tail stilling on the couch, “–why don't we go shopping for groceries?”

It’s already late afternoon, when Simon pulls up to the parking lot in front of the local supermarket in town with a truck he borrowed, deciding it’s better for his own nerves to take you somewhere else but the stores they have on base.

He just can’t bring himself to keep you on a leash around his peers, to parade you around wearing a pink collar around your neck with his rank and military ID number stitched into its leather–a ‘gift’ from the bloody gift basket Price had delivered to his flat along with the initial shock of your presence.

And, by god, he wants to drop the leash and run in the other direction as soon as the automatic sliding doors swoosh open and his boots step foot into the store with you in tow–a red shopping basket clutched in his other hand.

What an absurd picture it must be to other shopgoers–a behemoth with a skull mask and cargo pants buying veggies and snacks with a gorgeous hybrid woman on a pink leash and matching collar. Kinky, he muses unintentionally and grits his teeth, cringing at his own stupid thought. It’s then and there Simon decides to murder Price next chance he gets.

“Mummy, look!” A toddler exclaims, pointing at you as he peeks his head into the produce aisle. Simon’s eyebrow raises beneath his mask as the little boy approaches shyly, his wide eyes fixated on you. Civilians, especially kids and women, usually avoid him like the plague whenever he’s out and about in public, looking like, well–himself.

“Hello there,” you coo at the toddler, crouching down to his level while Simon keeps as much distance as the leash allows him to, knowing better than to interfere. “Are you looking for your mama?” You ask attentively, ears twitching as you look past the boy, already searching for his parents.

The boy shakes his head with a big smile, rocking on his feet. “Nu-uh, she’s–”

“Noah!” The frantic voice of a woman calls out. “I told you to stay by–” Her eyes widen, steps faltering briefly as she catches sight of Simon, who has already anticipated the reaction, slumping his shoulders to try and make himself look smaller, less threatening.

“He’s okay,” you chime in swiftly, straightening up to be on eye-level with Noah’s mother. “We were about to help him look for you, madam,” you assure her, and the boy giggles when you ruffle his brown unruly curls briefly. “Isn’t that right, big man?”

The conversation fades into the background just like Simon’s whole presence seemingly does as you go on to hold a friendly and effortless conversation with the mother and her son. Meanwhile, Simon doesn’t quite remember the last time someone approached him so casually and jovially, and he gets lost in his own rotten mind with flashbacks of the past again–seeing the ghosts of Beth and Joseph in these strangers in front of him, and his heart is gripped by icy tendrils of grief and melancholy until your laugh breaks through the vision, pulling him back to reality at once.

“Oh, no worries! I’m sure it is strange to see someone like me in a quaint town like this,” you chuckle softly, giving a small wave with your hand while Simon’s pale lashes flutter as he tries to follow the conversation once more after what he’s missed. He notices how the toddler is giggling, petting and hugging your fluffy tail while you continue talking to his mum like it’s nothing unordinary. “But working for the military has brought me to the strangest places where hybrids are either a common occurrence or completely rare and more like a myth,” you explain patiently.

And the woman smiles coyly, already smitten with your charms. “Well, you certainly are a looker if I dare say so, miss.”

Once Alice, as she'd introduced herself, and Noah go about their own shopping, Simon catches the odd look on your face, something akin to sadness or longing hidden behind your smile, before you rapidly blink it away as a grumpy-looking elderly man approaches you, asking for help as if you'd know your way around while Simon groans internally, already despising all the attention.

You really do turn heads in a rather positive way if you manage to make the most grumpy old geezer smile in a heartbeat.

“You always this chipper?” He gruffs as he watches you add a pound of butter and coffee creamer to the overflowing basket, not that he'd care about that. You've been nothing but mindful of prices and proper nourishment while strolling through the aisles.

“Hm?” Simon snorts, in amusement this time. There's no way you didn't hear him; he saw your plush left ear swivel in his direction. “Ya heard me jus’ fine, lass.” He mutters, grabbing a box of his favourite biscuits as he walks past them and shoving them in between the other goodies, feeling like a child sneaking candy into their parent's shopping cart.

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, keeping your eyes trained on the shelves with different brands of toast before grabbing a packaged loaf. “I guess I am.” Then you stop, glancing up at him over your shoulder, and Simon nearly bumps into you. “You don't like people coming up to us to chat?”

Simon's brows furrow. Us? “They wanna talk you, not me. 'm basically–” He shrugs, making a vague gesture at himself as the leash clinks in his hand.

“A Ghost?” You quip, beaming at your little joke while your tail swishes proudly.

“Right,” Simon huffs quietly. “Smooth.”

He's rather thankful for his balaclava as he continues trotting after you through the store, hiding the tiniest crack of a smile underneath the black cloth.

There’s a match on the telly, an ice cold bottle of his favourite ale on the coffee table on a coaster he didn’t even know he owned, though all Simon can really focus on is this bizarre situation he finds himself watching as you go about doing your own thing in his kitchen.

It’s almost mesmerizing, the way you rummage through the cupboards and drawers, taking out pots and bowls to your liking as if you own the place already, preparing a side salad while the steaks sizzle in the pan–all while you’re wearing that frilly, pale pink apron that you’d fetched from your suitcase earlier, the one that makes Simon wonder if one of your previous handlers is responsible for your peculiar wardrobe, or if pink simply happens to be your favourite colour.

He takes an absentminded sip of his drink when another thought pops into his head: What if you wear all of this hyper-feminine bollocks because people forced you to like it? What if they manipulated you into enjoying stuff to state their own perverted fantasies? Would you rather wear something else?

And Simon imagines it briefly–you wearing something cosy, perhaps one of his hoodies that would most likely swallow you whole. He takes another swing of ale and his nose wrinkles, though it’s not the bitterness making him squinch.

“Dinner is ready in five,” you croon suddenly, popping your head into the living room from the kitchen as the savoury aroma of steak and chips wafts through the flat, engulfing the usually sparse space like a warm, comforting blanket.

With a soft groan and a cracking knee, Simon gets up from his seat on the couch. The least he can do is set the table.

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses @kerst666 @whos-fran @d1zzy-r1v3rs @userinaliel666 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @vmaxis @tessakate @dneicjefx @sushiumex @yourfavreggie @cmbghost @brokexintroverted @mysterygrl555 @bunnybeaches @fmlmf @teapartydreams @nachofriess @slut-lmao @sweetnanah @kodzukenwhore @thefutureastronaut @arael-asuka @oliver-1270

[with-my-calamitous-love]

i meant to finish this some time ago 😭 but anyway, back on my bodyguard rotting! special tag for @crushmeeren because i think i put this in ur inbox a while ago and never got around to it lol, anyway here it is. nsfw under divider, f! reader for that part 🤍🫧

bodyguard! eijiro, who has a smile just like sunshine. who has a dopey grin and the personality of a golden retriever. who, on paper, doesn’t sound like he’d be capable of even hurting a fly- until you see his rock hard muscles peaking through his shirt, or the jagged edges of his skin after activating his quirk. who, 90% of the time, is so sweet its tooth rotting. the other 10% of the time, he’s a nightmare to whoever threatens you.

bodyguard! eijiro, who genuinely loves his job. he’s level-headed and rational, able to solve most disputes with some talking or light physical action. who can’t complain, because after all, most of his day is being around a funny, beautiful person- so who cares if he has to rough up a guy for cutting you off or being too touchy? he’s happy to do it.

bodyguard! eijiro, who takes ‘doing anything to protect you’ and makes it ‘doing anything for you.’ don’t feel like driving? he’s got it. have a very specific craving at 2 in the morning? no questions asked. he’s also attentive, noting your mannerisms or idiosyncrasies that make you, you. he may not say it, but he knows those subtle signs of burn out, or anxiety, or exhaustion. as much as his job is to protect you from external threats, he cares just as much- if not more- about protecting your happiness.

bodyguard! eijiro, who is the best person to bring to bars or clubs. the first reason being that you’d trust him if you were hanging off a ledge, but the second being that he’s just may be the funniest, most charming guy you’ve ever met. who doesn’t even realize how attractive it is, the way he can make you lose your breath with laughter while maintaining an iron grip on your drink, placing his hand on your waist and protectively eyeing anyone who’s eyes seem a little too stuck on you for his liking.

bodyguard! eijiro, who asks if its okay if he take the two of you back to his place because its closer, and because he secretly doesn’t want the night to end. who sees your shoes by the door, coat laying on his couch, and you unwinding in his washroom and feels a little pang in his heart. who knows his feelings well and knows damn well by now he has a crush, but keeps it professional. until you can’t hold it in any longer and tell him how bad you have it for him. by then, he’s throwing you over his shoulder and towards his bedroom.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

bodyguard! ejiro, who is just as sweet as he is rough. who will tug off your clothes (shredding them if he has to) and apologetically kiss the bare skin underneath. who has sharp teeth, and won’t hesitate to sink them in even if you tear up a little. who manhandles you, tossing you around on the bed like its nothing, whispering: “you like this position, baby?” “let me know what feels good.” meanwhile, he’s folding you like origami.

bodyguard! eijiro, who loves your tits. who can’t resist grabbing himself a handful once he gets your bra off, captivated by the way the jiggle and spring free. who can be a little mean, pinching and twisting your nipples before taking one in his mouth. who makes sure you feel his razor sharp teeth graze the sensitive bud, alternating between the two, giving each the same amount of love and attention. who releases them with a slight pop! deciding he wants to taste more of you.

bodyguard! eijiro, makes sure your comfortable before going down on you like he’s starving. on any other day, he’d ease into it- slowly kissing, soft licks and light sucking- but who has waited so long to do this he hopes you’ll forgive his impatience. who makes sure your thighs wrap around his head, eating your pussy out like its his last meal. who literally will not move from between your legs until you make him, telling him that you’re already dizzy with pleasure.

bodyguard! eijiro, who smirks a little when he pulls his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, seeing your eyes widen and your cheeks blush. who, quite frankly, knows he’s big, but also knows how to use it. who takes your thighs and folds you in half, giving him a better view. who’ll run the tip of his cock through your folds, hearing your whines and feeling it go straight to his dick. who meets no resistance finally pushing himself inside you, moaning in unison when he feels your pretty walls taking him in.

bodyguard! eijiro, who has god-like stamina. who makes that skin slapping noise he knows drives you insane, grunting and moaning when he feels himself reach mind-meltingly deep inside you. who wrecks your pussy and praises you while he’s doing it: “taking me so good, ah.” “making me feel so good, princess? shit, i’m not stopping anytime soon.” who makes a mental note to himself that he’ll probably run out the next morning to grab you plan b.

speaking of which… bodyguard! eijiro, who slows down just a little, asking you where you want him to finish. who could cum right then and there when you tell him you don’t want him pulling out, to which he’s more than happy to oblige. who feels his orgasm coming, but draws out yours as much as possible- massaging your tits, kissing you deep, rubbing little circles on your clit. who makes sure he’s buried deep when he feels you cum, groaning as he feels your walls clamp down on his cock. who pumps in and out a few more times before collapsing down beside you. who, 2 seconds later, gets up to grab you water or ice, but who can’t resist when you pull him back into bed, vowing to deal with the soreness as long as he’s next to you.

bodyguard! eijiro, who is more than happy to carry you around everywhere the next morning, returning back to his jovial green like he didn’t just rearrange your organs the night before. <3

[frogsandfries]

I was introduced to the concept of zines in college, because of a partnered creative project. The first zine I ever contributed to was about social media. It did cost a fortune to print because it was done at the school's favored print shop, in full color.

I don't know how prevalent small bookshops selling zines used to be before the age of the internet, but I think I've only been to one bookshop that sold zines. Which is a real loss, imo. I wish there were more small bookshops and that I had more opportunities to explore zines. I think it's kind of inevitable that the internet caused things to change. Chicken wings and ribs used to be poor people food until they got gentrified. Printing on paper used to be the only way to access and disperse information. Now that we have the internet, it's unfortunately not surprising that zine making has been gentrified.

Plus, I'm sure a lot of people who would like to make zines wouldn't know what to put in one that they'd actually like to share with people. Furthermore, it can be hard to swallow the concept of "if I spend five dollars, I can share this with (let's say three people, for example)" when I can hit reblog or forward or send or submit.......for free.

And then there is the cliche of turning your hobby into a grind. If I can spend five dollars, make three zines, sell them for three dollars apiece, etc etc, maybe I don't need enough money to sell a hundred zines, I just need money to make fifty and I can use the rest of that money for groceries or rent and still keep making fifty zines every time I want to make a new one.

Oh, let's not forget that a lot of USians don't carry cash often if ever, anymore, so now I have to factor in the cost of card transactions, into the cost of my zines. Most people aren't going to find themselves in an avant garde bookshop. Most people may not even find my zines on Etsy or Shopify. This kind of forces an (optional) evolution: if I make a fifty page basically a proper magazine, but because it's full of (idk messages about the best places for poor people to eat in LA), I 'can' call it a zine, I can sell it on like, Amazon, or use a Kickstarter and distribute it nearly infinitely.

I can't look at zines through a pre-internet perspective. I don't have that perspective. I understand that zines should be accessible to those who have very little if any money left over after Life. It can feel tempting to make the flashiest, full color zine. It can feel necessary to print your twenty page zine in full color. It can feel necessary to do the entire thing on the computer. It can feel necessary to make it as professional as possible. It can start to feel like making an "old school" black and white, no computer, xeroxed zine is going to get your zine looked over because it's not flashy enough and nobody likes plain ole boring black and white. Or if I add a cardstock cover, maybe my zine will look a little more professional.

I think a lot of us don't come into zines with any kind of mentor to guide us and regulate the culture, and us younger folks come into it with a mindset that we have to have in the rest of our lives: one upsmanship. If the last guy or the first zine we ever saw had a really professional looking cover, we need one full color page. If that guy used a black and white cardstock cover, we need a color accented cardstock cover, we need a glossy full color cover.

Anyway, all this to say, personally, I don't think zines are the right medium for my creative endeavors. I don't think I say this as like, begging for someone to prove me wrong. I say this as a person who cannot tell a short story. I don't need to rely on zines to get my fanfic (although, even if AO3 did not exist and a monthly zine was the only way to get my Spirk fix, personally, I still wouldn't know where to get some sweet sweet Spirk zines; but that's a me problem).

I feel like I'm about twenty-five years too late to the zine scene.

the whole point of a zine is that it's cheap to produce, amateur and homemade. if you're being asked to apply to participate in a print project, it is not a zine. if the final product is being printed and bound professionally, it is not a zine. if you are being asked to enter into any kind of licensing agreement more complex than "my work can be reproduced as part of this publication" it is not a zine. nine times put of ten if the final product costs more than $5 you have left zine country. im so serious about this.

[cheshireliam]

Kagari Amagase 1st Birthday Campaign: Story

His POV Story

"I Want The Princess"

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

I stood on the battlefield, washed off the blood and headed to my secondary residence.  

…

The instant I stepped inside, I collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

Like always, I felt lightheaded and couldn’t think straight.

However, the book laying on my desk caught my eye.

The cover of the book was decorated with a rose motif, a flower rare in Kogyoku. 

I crawled closer to the book and reached for it.

When I opened the cover, a piece of paper with text written in the Princess’ penmanship fell out and landed on my face.  

Those were various detailed annotations about the book’s contents. 

A pure desire to enjoy the book came right to me.

(My birthday…)

(It was my first time.)

…

Nobleman: Happy birthday, Prince Kagari. I wish you a joyful and prosperous year ahead.

Kagari: Oh. 

This year too, there was a snaking line of people outside the castle for my birthday. 

I received countless birthday greetings, but I didn't know the appropriate response to them. 

(Everything is different from when I was still part of the royal family. There are so many things I don’t understand.)

Back in the day, my birthdays were simple, ending with a congratulatory speech from the King. 

My older brother had countless people celebrating his birthday and even had a banquet held for him, but that wasn't the case for me — his younger brother. 

No one ever doubted it because the difference between me and my older brother, who possessed remarkable capabilities that made everyone around have high expectations for him, was like night and day.

(But… thinking about it now, I wish I’d at least gotten one dorayaki.)

(... Hm?)

At the very end of the line — a familiar figure was standing under a cherry blossom tree in the distance. 

My body moved on its own before I even realised it. 

Kagari: You’re wide open, Princess. 

The Princess reacted exaggeratingly in surprise. I put a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the shade.

Emma: Mmph…! 

I pinned her struggling body against a tree trunk before closing the distance between us to avoid drawing the attention of the people nearby.

(She’s still as weak as ever, like she could die any moment.) 

Kagari: Do you promise to behave?

I took my hand off her mouth and she nodded.

Emma: … What are you doing here, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: I saw you.

Emma: So you came to see me?

Kagari: You called me here.

(Maybe.)

Her fidgeting near the line must mean she wants to see me, right? 

Kagari: If you were planning to join the line, don’t bother.

Kagari: It won’t end until nightfall.

Emma: That long…?

Kagari: There’s a banquet tonight. That’ll go on till dawn. 

Kagari: So, why are you here?

The Princess’ eyes darted around awkwardly.

It was suspicious behaviour, she looked very uneasy, as though she was hiding something she wanted to say.

Emma: … Um… there were so many people gathered, and I got curious…

She hid the bag she was holding behind her back.

Given today’s occasion and the Princess’ personality, the answer is obvious.

(She’s hesitant to celebrate my birthday.) 

(Is this really something to agonise about?)

(... I don’t really get it, but this is fine.)

(It doesn't matter whether I receive birthday greetings or not…)

(But spending my birthday with her might actually be more enjoyable.)

(I’ll take her along for the customary inspection.)

…

Dressed as one of the Yasha’s subordinates, the Princess pointed an imitation sword at the assassins. 

I couldn’t help but be secretly impressed as I watched from atop a roof.

(She’s gotten more used to things compared to when she first arrived in Kogyoku.)

(Even though it’s only an imitation sword, she’s learnt how to point one at others.) 

(With that amount of guts, she’ll have no problem surviving in Kogyoku. Full marks for her.) 

(Also… the clothes my subordinates wear really suit her.)

I stared absentmindedly at her exposed nape, where her hair was tied up in a single knot.)

(I remember Matias saying something about this before.)

(“The nape, usually hidden by her hair, is the most valuable”.)

At that time, I thought he was purely spouting weird nonsense, but I understand now. 

(It’s so slender, I feel like biting it— wait, what? Why do I want to bite it?

(No idea. I’ll ask Matias next time.)

(If this is something that requires some brains, I’ll ask Azel.) 

While I was lost in thought, the assassin placed their hands on the hilt of their swords. 

Before they could unsheath their swords ever so slightly, I jumped down and swung my sheathed sword. 

The impact was solid, and all the assassins’ eyes rolled back as they fell unconscious. 

Had I drawn my sword, their heads would have flown off their shoulders. 

(Weak.)

Kagari: That was easy. I hoped they’d at least be good enough for me to draw my sword.

As I turned around feeling disappointed, the Princess was in the midst of sheathing the imitation sword.

Before the blade fully went into the scabbard, I moved closer and held her slender hand. 

Kagari: Princess, you need to adjust the angle of your stance. 

Emma: I see…

Kagari: Also, never hunch your back on a battlefield.

Emma: I never noticed I was doing that.

Kagari: Exactly. Even though you’re dressed like one of my subordinates, you’re weak.

Emma: … I’m sorry. 

Cat: Nyaa… 

While I was guiding her for future use, I heard a meowing sound coming from next to my feet. 

It was the stray cat I had an undesirable, yet inseparable relationship with. 

Kagari: Ah, give me a minute.

I folded a piece of paper with instructions on how to deal with the men lying on the ground and handed it to the cat. 

It gave a delighted meow as it took the paper in its mouth and scurried off. 

Emma: What was that…?

Kagari: Calico No.1.

Kagari: It often roams the streets. So if you ever need to contact me, you can count on it for that.

Emma: So instead of a carrier pigeon… you have a carrier cat.

Kagari: Yeah. 

(This guy’s more temperamental than a pigeon, though.)

Emma: About the piece of paper you gave it earlier on…

Kagari: I summoned my subordinates. It’s a hassle to clean up this mess. 

I stood up and looked down at the amateurish assassins lying on the ground. 

The Princess looked eager for an explanation, almost to the point she was getting restless. 

(They’re no more significant than random passersby, but…) 

Kagari: This is a “gift” I receive on my birthday every year, amidst the celebrations. 

Kagari: I was looking forward to a more challenging opponent, but I got disappointed this year too.

The Princess frowned at my blunt response.

(Is she angry?)

(Weird. It doesn't even concern her.)

(Maybe this is something “strange” to the Princess?)

(When you come from a different place, what’s common and what’s not changes. That's interesting.)

(What’s common knowledge to me, might not be so common to her.) 

…

Night fell as usual, and it was time for the banquet.

Savouring the enjoyable time we had together, I parted ways with the Princess. 

Soon after, the ever so hardworking Calico No.1 came with a letter in its mouth.

…

I went to the cherry blossom tree where I sometimes admired the flowers with the Princess, and the sender of that letter looked clearly pleased to see me. 

Feeling comforted by her reaction, I sat down next to her under the tree. 

Emma: Has the banquet ended?

Kagari: Not yet.

Emma: You managed to slip away.

Kagari: Your summon is more important.

Cat: Nyaa 

(Is it asking for a reward?)

I gently petted the cat that had been nuzzling itself against my leg and it left like it was never there. 

Heartless cat. 

(Right now, the Princess is more important than Calico No.1.)

Kagari: You changed your clothes.

Emma: Yes, I wanted to meet you as my usual self.

Emma: If I’m going to celebrate your birthday, I want to do it as the version of me you met in Kogyoku.  

Kagari: … 

(Is this what she meant when she said she “wanted some of my time after the banquet”?)

Emma: Happy birthday, Prince Kagari.

The Princess, who had been hesitant about wishing me a happy birthday this morning, presented me with a cherry blossom-patterned package.

I accepted the package, unwrapped it, and took out what was insides

Kagari: A book? 

Emma: It’s a storybook from Rhodolite. 

(It’s my first time receiving a book as a birthday gift. I’m feeling uneasy.)

Kogyoku’s Yasha was thought by others to only wield swords and never read books. 

But in truth, I don’t dislike reading. 

Emma: You’ve taught me many wonderful things about Kogyoku. 

Emma: It’s thrilling to discover new things about the world that I’ve never known before, so…

Emma: I chose this book because I want you to experience that thrill too. It’s one of my favourites. 

Emma: … And, if possible, I thought it might help convey Rhodolite’s charm too…

Kagari: The book is set in Rhodolite?

Emma: That’s right! It’s a collection of heartwarming short stories.

Emma: It’s the perfect remedy for when you’re feeling worn out.

Kagari: I almost forgot you’re a book merchant.

(I thought it’s just like any other book, but this one’s carefully chosen by the Princess.)

Knowing the amount of thought put into the gift made it much more significant. 

Kagari: You’re probably the only one who’d think of giving me a book. 

(I’ve decided. I’ll make this a family heirloom.)

I stared at the cover, flipped through the pages, and briefly scanned through the text. 

It doesn't seem like I’ll be running into any trouble if I end up with too much free time for a while. 

Emma: … I’m relieved I could properly celebrate your birthday. 

I looked up when she suddenly spoke.

The Princess heaved a sigh of relief, like she had been holding her breath for a while. 

Kagari: You’re overthinking it. I’d never find it bothersome to be celebrated. 

Emma: But your detached reaction to all the greetings and gifts made me rather worried that you would. 

Kagari: … Did I come off that way?

(I didn't realise. No wonder the Princess hesitated.)

I closed the book and lowered my gaze. 

Kagari: It’s not that I dislike being celebrated, or that I’m uninterested in birthdays.

Kagari: It’s just… I still don’t know what I should be feeling when I’m being celebrated.

Kagari: It’s been a recent problem for me.

Never had I ever imagined that not having extravagant birthday celebrations like my older brother did would someday become a source of my troubles. 

(Receiving a celebration particularly from her is complicated.)

(... I feel restless, and it’s hard to even look her in the eyes.)

(Is this the correct feeling I should be getting? What kind of emotion is this?) 

As I sat there in silence, full of uncertainty, a gentle breeze blew. 

Petals from the cherry blossom tree that was in bloom all year round danced in the air and fluttered down. 

The Princess, whose attention had been constantly focused on the Yasha until now, suddenly turned her gaze toward the cherry blossoms.

Emma: It’s beautiful. 

(…)

The restlessness turned into something murky. 

(... Not going to look at me anymore?)

(You’re so heartless.)

I grabbed a fistful of the Princess’ skirt. 

It was a spontaneous gesture. 

Emma: Prince Kagari?

(Why must I lose her to some cherry blossoms?)

Kagari: You’ve been thinking about my birthday all day long, and now you’re completely mesmerised by cherry blossoms? 

Emma: Of course I’m still thinking about your birthday. 

Emma: I just think that it looks as though the cherry blossoms are celebrating too… 

Kagari: Just you celebrating it is enough. Don’t look away. 

For some reason, the Princess reacted to my vent with a gentle smile. 

Kagari: … What are you smiling about?

Emma: It’s nothing. 

(I’m curious… but this doesn't feel so bad.)

I felt my facial expression soften, and the Princess turned her gaze to the cherry blossoms once again.

My grip on the fabric of her skirt tightened. 

Emma: … I planned to only give you your gift, but we ended up talking for quite a while.

Emma: Shouldn’t you return to the banquet soon, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: …

(I don't want to.)

(I want her to celebrate my birthday, more than the banquet.) 

(But somehow, even though they’re all celebrations, something feels different.)

I retraced the day’s events, recalling each and every one of the Princess’ words and trying to pinpoint the cause of my restlessness. 

(If there is a difference… it’d be that everyone else’s celebrations are nothing more than mere formalities.)

(You could say they have ulterior motives, wanting to gain the Yasha’s favour and protection.)

(But the Princess’ celebration doesn't have any of that.) 

(... This is the first time I’m receiving a sincere birthday celebration.)

Kagari: Princess, don’t you want to keep the Yasha all to yourself?

Emma: I think I’ve already monopolised you enough. 

(It’s not enough.)

(... I want more)

Kagari: … Stay here.

Emma: Then… I’ll take you up on the offer.

Emma: Can I continue celebrating your birthday for a little while longer? 

Kagari: Yeah. 

Hearing the word “celebrate” from her lips made me restless again. 

(Could this restless feeling be… bashfulness?) 

(... Am I actually feeling bashful because she’s celebrating my birthday?) 

(That’s a first. I learned something new today.)

Kagari: If you want to celebrate, do it. I can’t guarantee I’ll make it to my next birthday.

Emma: … I don't like such jokes.

Kagari: I’m not joking. But rest assured that I want you to celebrate my birthday over and over again.

(It’d be nice if there’ll be a “next”.) 

(... I want to feel bashful again. I want to experience this feeling even more.)

(I want to get to know this restlessness better.)

(When I’m with her… my emotions come alive.)

…

When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by darkness.

(... Did I fall asleep?)

As I regained consciousness, I realised I was holding a book in my arms.

I heard a faint sound of gentle breathing coming from next to me.

I shifted my gaze in its direction to see Calico No.1 laying there with its belly facing up, looking completely defenseless.

(It's getting better at hiding its presence and becoming more shameless too.)

(Who exactly does that remind me of?)

Careful not to wake Calico No.1, I picked up the book and opened it while laying down. 

Even though I had already finished it and remembered its contents, my eyes didn't stop following the text.

The stories were set in a peaceful country called Rhodolite. 

The Princess, born in that kind of country, was honest, straightforward, and her existence dazzling bright. 

(That makes sense.)

On my birthday — when I received those empty, soulless birthday greetings from the crowd, the Princess looked like she couldn't stand it any longer and took my hand.

Under the cherry blossom tree, her smile was like a flower in full bloom and she celebrated the Yasha’s birthday genuinely from the heart.

(She has a beautiful heart.)

(And yet, she unhesitatingly held these hands of mine that have been stained with blood of the people I’ve killed and even gave me her blessings.)

(Ah…)

(... I want the Princess).

(But I don't understand why I want her.)

(Will I understand it if she becomes mine, just like this book?)

I sat up and closed the book.

Although the battle was over and my body was supposedly back to its usual state, my head started feeling fuzzy again. 

That sensation worsened when an image of the Princess’ face emerged in my mind. 

Despite knowing my symptoms were worsening, my hands refused to let go of the book. 

I couldn’t peel my eyes off it.

It was as though I was clinging onto it.

(I want to see her.)

(I want to see the Princess.)

[reidingandallthat]

what's in a name?

a last late night conversation, where you confront lauren and start questioning if that's even her real name.

emily prentiss x reader words: 1.8k genre: angst cw: set in when emily was undercover as lauren, reader's role isn't mentioned, feel free to assume. lyric prompt: I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you. honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.

a/n: my submission for my beloved @mggslover 's event, lovers1kevent, again congratulations lovely. tried something different so im terrified. ill just hide out after i post don't hmu kekfjrlfk. idk if the stove and fire thingy worked out as I wanted but oh well.

Nightfall fell like a blanket around the cold winter, three steps into the kitchen with just a lamp on. Dim lights remind you of the same moment just a few months ago, hurried hands roaming through kitchen drawers, hoping for just one clue. 

You take a knife, an untoasted piece of bread laid out on a plate, not much patience to turn on the stove so you spread out jam over it. Cold to touch, just like she was before the calamity. 

The thought was scary, not very surprising, but you had your suspicions. You only hoped for them to not be true. 

A clutter shakes you awake, looking around for any intruder or perhaps Declan, maybe he had a nightmare. The sound was brief as if the intruder had only realised the sound they made but you had heard it. 

Slow and tentative footsteps, careful to never make a sound, you try to decipher the direction of the sound. It's hard, now that it's so quiet. 

But then you hear it again, the scraping of a drawer. So you take the knife left on the kitchen counter, yielded in front of you as a warning. 

Just three more steps till you find out who's here but something stops you. You only see a glance of it, but it's all too recognisable. It's her. 

Her expressions are calm but her hands tell a different story. She doesn't dare look up, her eyes glued to the file she's holding open, determined to look at every word on the paper. 

“She must have stayed over,” You think as you see Lauren hurriedly turning over pages. 

Her looking through anything in the house isn't that much strange to you, but it's the middle of the night and her breath quickens at every second that passes. You know there is nothing normal about this. 

But you rest your weapon anyway, making sure to make a sound so she can hear you coming. And as you anticipated, her body reacted instantly, the file being closed and hidden, her hands busying themselves with the water bottle on the table. 

You slowly walk in, suspicion clouding your face. You don't know yet, but she can tell. She can pick out everything you want to say just by seeing your face, but you don't know that, yet.

“Hi.” You say,

“Hey,” she chuckles, “I was just making a sandwich, do you want one?” she asks, a smile betraying her narrow escape, and perhaps even the objective of her arrival, but she doesn't know that yet.

The red color of the jam stares back at you in fluorescent lighting, eyes strained from being open for too long. 

You're not even hungry anymore.

You can sense her now, a presence too heavy to ignore. You haven't looked up in a few minutes but you could feel her staring at you, brown eyes too enticing to ever look into. 

“You should eat,” she says. 

Your eyes close heedlessly, a sharp stab of pain you desperately hoped you never felt, but it was common nature now. You look up and force a smile, not caring much to make it look natural, she can always tell anyway. Another thing that haunts you most days. 

It's very hard to hide from her, but you can never find her, always looking at a distance, never too close or too far.

You’ve told her it's unfair, she only laughs. Cruel.

“I’m not hungry anymore.” 

She smiles, amused, endeared. Cruel.

“So you were sleep cooking?”

You're grateful she can't see you smiling, you don't want to give her the satisfaction. So, so cruel of you. 

“Don't make me laugh.”

“Is that a crime now?”

The garden was more beautiful to you at night, the smell of jasmine was much more prominent but you had to stay away, if you got too close it made you dizzy. 

You hear a sound, but instead of panic a warmth causes goosebumps all over your body. 

You know how you can tell someone's footsteps apart? 

Hers are unmistakable to you, you're positive you can tell her breathing apart from a crowd of thousands. But that's not appropriate to say out loud.

You learned that pretty quick, nothing was to be said out loud, it made it too real. You can't really tell why she comes every time you call, or why you oblige to her insistences, but you do anyway. Why would she kiss you senseless then laugh and tease, why would she let you roll your eyes at her? Why was it fine by you to sleep next to her when no one was home, why did you let everything happen even if it killed you, little by little? 

You’d asked her once, her fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your face, running a line up and down your nose. 

“Memory of a goldfish. Do you know how long that is?” She asks.

“A few seconds.” You answer.

“You think we can be goldfish?”

You laugh, it's music to her ears.

“Strange way of foreplay, but sure.”

She laughs, it's music to your ears.

“Schadenfreude,” You say as you assemble another piece of bread with the jam covering only one side of it.

You turn on the stove, I don't want to eat it cold justifying your actions but you know it's not accurate. Excuses, excuses.

It's because she's talking to you, and a sick need to hear it again and again and again until it grates your ears but that moment never comes. Somehow you're always looking for reasons to extend the time, finding excuses to turn on the stove. 

“Taking pleasure in other's misfortune.” She explains and you roll your eyes, of course she knows.

“Mhm. Good job.” You bite into a separate piece of bread as you wait for the pan to warm.

“Why is that relevant right now?”

“You're a classic example.”

Her eyebrows crinkle in offense and you want to laugh but it only pesters your heart, a rope tightening around your neck. 

“I don't take pleasure in anybody's pain,” She clutches her heart, mock pain, and it's a joke for her, but it's three in the morning. And you're tired. 

“You take pleasure in my pain,” an emphasis on the word ‘my’. 

Her eyes turn knowing, pitiful and sorry and you hate it. You hate that she has the upper hand, that she can tell you're a desperate, pathetic mess. 

“I don't take pleasure in your pain, honey-”

“Don't you fucking honey me.”

You think you can hear your heart beating, you can feel it in your neck, as if it will jump out any minute. The light sound of the clock ticking fills the silence. The pan is too warm now, so you turn down the heat. You don't want to burn your sandwich. 

She knows not to push, it's a known routine now. It stays silent until you take another piece of bread when she speaks again, just like clockwork, memory of a goldfish.

“Why did you turn on the stove if you were just going to eat them like this anyway?”

“I have free will, go away.”

“Just warm them you already have the stove-”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Okay, what's going on? Why are you being so dismissive?”

“Because I can-”

“Y/n.”

You only look at her, it's too hard to string together sentences anymore. This is one of the few select times you're grateful she can read you like a book. She knows what this is about. 

“What's your name, Lauren?”

It's only the second time you've asked that question. The first time the consequences felt too real. Her eyes hold betrayal, anger and every other thing you can think of. 

She should have been confused, dumbfounded when you asked her the first, she should have brushed you off. But she was angry, the biggest mistake on her part.

“What are you asking me??”

“Your name isn't Lauren.”

“How would you know?” 

“Because you don't answer me when I call you Lauren, it's someone else. It's not the same person who responds when I call her honey, sweetheart, angel, just anything else.”

It felt like a dare, who could win the argument, who would say the harshest words, ask the hardest questions.

“You promised not to ask.” It's an accusation.

“You won't tell me your name Lauren.”

“I can't.”

Your head hangs low as you take deep breaths. Fire burns underneath the pan, small and timid like it's tired. You put the sandwich on the stove, not keen on asking anymore questions, they never get answered anyway. 

You don't notice her get up, or walk towards you. You were hoping she'd just disappear, like none of this ever happened. But her hands cup your face and force you to look up. You keep your eyes closed, too afraid you'll recognise the look on her face. 

The same one she adorned when she was looking for answers, begging you to not ask anymore. 

But you're tired.

“You don't have any secrets? What is this then?” She gestures between the two of you, and a shadow falls over your face. It's unkind of her to ask this, it's not a fair question. She knows that, but she asks anyway.

“Are you kidding me? Are you seriously saying that? You?”

“We all have our secrets. You have yours, I have mine.”

A ringing alarm sound breaks your memory. Her hands leave you, hurrying to turn off the sound, to not wake anyone up. 

She flips the sandwich over, and the other side is burnt, too dark. 

“I don't feel real,” You say. It's a quiet admission, only meant for her. You're not even sure if you yourself want to listen to it.

“You're not real, Lauren. Neither of us are.”

You take the sandwich off the pan, soothing your fingers after the hot surface touches your fingertips. 

You look at her and she looks puzzled, it's adorable. The inexplicable urge to kiss her pesters you again, you had vowed not to do it, but she's too close for you to not to, so you reach her lips anyway, just for a second. But she keeps you in place, just a few more minutes, a phrase you've heard too often when sunlight starts peeking through windows. 

You turn the stove off as she lets you go, you take her silence as an apology. You don't think you could take anymore reasonings and explanations. 

...

The everyday noise of the mornings shakes you awake, you can't even tell when you fell asleep. It's only eight am, you've definitely not gotten enough sleep, but you force yourself off the bed.

The housekeeper is in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with the same knife you held last night.

You can't really tell if it was real or a dream, if you imagined a horrible goodbye or if that was it. 

But you hear Lauren giggling in the living room, and you hear Declan’s laugh accompanying hers. 

The dream was real, you know now but you don't try very hard to convince yourself that it was real. It's better off as a dream, you think.

As you look at the scene in front of. you, you think of the same sentence you've thought every morning for the past few months, Memory of a goldfish.

[thecurioustale]

love it when you look up a word’s pronunciation and only get the formal Linguist zalgotext-style version.

Yep. =[

It used to be that pronunciation guides were put there to help people pronounce words. Now they often serve as this weirdly passive-aggressive Brahminist virtue signaling prescriptivism. Gosh, that's a mouthful, but what I mean is that most people can't penetrate this crap, and the people who stick it there in place of a real pronunciation guide know this. They do it on purpose, under the paper-thin pretense of linguistic precision, basically because gatekeeping is a power trip.

In everyday usage—and here I'm only speaking of the American context; other English-speaking contexts can have their own parallel lanes when needed—people just need to be told the relatively short list of common vowels. That's 90% of the way there or better. More than good enough!

And when they are deprived access to a pronunciation guide they can actually understand, their only alternatives are to either not use the word, thus validating the gatekeeping and self-imposing the stratification, or to use it blindly and hope for the best.

This actually came up for me just a couple days ago. I wanted to double-check the standard English pronunciation of the Latin word extremus. Conceivably there isn't one, because there was no entry on Wiktionary for English usage and several other dictionary sites didn't have an entry at all. I only got as far as Wiktionary's Latin IPA Pronunciation Key, which, astoundingly, had no translation aids to offer for the English speaker at all, and no English-language sound examples. So either you already know the functions of the various IPA symbols, or you don't. And if you already know them, you would be looking up the key!

Wiktionary is my dictionary of first recourse online ever since Dictionary.com became so slow because of ads. I still prefer them for their content, but Wiktionary is very good too, and it loads instantly, even if it lacks near-fit search result capabilities (so you'd better know how to spell the words you look up exactly right!). But, yeah, they definitely have some weak spots inflicted by the local Brahmin. The good news is that the actual entries of words for use in English have a little more assistance available. But some of the other languages, not so much.

I think it's amazing that Wiktionary has English-language definitions of words in other languages at all! But it could use some accessibility improvements to be sure.

love it when you look up a word’s pronunciation and only get the formal Linguist zalgotext-style version. like damn i guess i’m not using that word.

[lovekawaas]

picnic date w/ college boyfr! choso

cw: smut (MDNI), public sex, sub! choso, blowjob, facesetting, 69, unprotected sex, p in v, afab reader

wc: 2k words

spring semester was halfway done. and your boyfriend decided that you deserved a treat for all of the hard work that you had been putting in these past few months.

the weather couldn't have been more perfect, with bright blue skies and the sun's beating rays ever present. a cool breeze blew your sundress up and you tightly grasp the handle of your picnic basket clutching it close to your chest, hoping it'll anchor you so you don't blow away.

choso, just a few steps ahead, finds what he deems to be the perfect spot to set up. with a swift throw, he lays the blanket down right under a tall tree atop a hill giving you guys a mixture of shade and sun. he turns to see you further off in the distance.

"sweetheart do you need any help?"

"i'm right behind you cho!"

and with that, you make your trek up the hill, watching for cracks in the dirt so as not to slip and fall. upon reaching the top, you gazed out at the view of the field. total seclusion. far far away from the whirlwind of univeristy life. no professors, no exams, no term papers. spring was in full bloom and it was beautiful. the wind brushing through the tall grass making it sway back and forth. it's almost like it was moving. like the field was alive.

a soft palm places itself on your shoulder, drawing you out of your thoughts. you quickly turn your head to see that it's only choso. he smiles softly at you, his kind eyes causing your cheeks to pull the corners of your lips up as well. a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips.

"i'm so happy to be here with you right now"

and another kiss makes its way to your cheek. your face flushes with heat. he always knows exactly how to make you swoon. and without even trying. that's just choso. his soft gestures and gentle care melts your heart time and time again. however, you know how you can make him swoon harder.

"are you ready to eat?" he asks as his hands head for the basket. but you grab his wrist before he can open it. "sorry cho, but i think that i'm hungry for something else". small hands grasp at the knitted material of his sweater, yanking it towards you to pull him in. you don't kiss him. instead, you lick a long slow stripe against his neck drawing out the sweetest whines from him.

choso is stunned. "y/n..." he quietly exhales. so soft you almost don't even catch it. "y/n, we're in public someone could see us". "there's no one around choso". how could you be so bold? surprising him once by drawing him close with such swiftness. and then again by the touch of your tongue.

he shudders beneath you, turning red in the face and hot all over. but he knows that you're not done with him yet. you're pressing soft lips from the collar of his sweater, working your way up to the top of his neck right beneath his jawline. "and if anyone comes by—

let them watch".

dropping his sweater, choso stumbles back from you dazed from just your lips. nimble fingers intertwining with his, you pull him down onto the blanket with you. basket set aside, you press your palm to his chest feeling his toned body protrude through the layers of his clothes.

pushing him down until his back hits the ground resting gently on the fabric placed earlier. eyes connect to his belt buckle, almost blinding you as it glints in the sun. you reach forward to undo it, unzipping his pants, pulling the waistband of his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free.

"y/n" choso breathes out feeling the cool spring air hit him.

but you don't acknowledge him. instead, you look at the little beads of pre cum dribble down from the tip of his dick. the way the light hits them makes it look almost like pearls. and you can't help but want to get a taste.

tucking your hair behind your ears, you lean forward to suckle the substance off the tip. a little salty but that's okay with you. you tug his boxers further down to have full access. your lips press a soft kiss to the tip. and that's the only notice you give choso before going all in.

cheeks hollowing and teeth hidden behind your lips, you swallow him whole. not even daring to breathe, immediately gagging at the intrusion as he hits the back of your throat. feeling the clenching of your passage he can't help but writhe beneath you. you pull your mouth off of him gasping for air. coughing and sputtering. but it doesn't stop you.

no.

you go back in again. bobbing your head up and down. drooling on his cock like a dog letting any escaped saliva pool down on the exposed skin of his thighs. his whimpers like warm honey, entering your ears moving all the way down to your cunt. thighs clenched together beneath the skirt of your dress. rocking your hips backing and forth on your heels for any sense of friction to aid the throbbing you feel. your cunt clenching around nothing from just his whines.

meanwhile, choso is a mess.

your lips are just so tight. sucking him so well. warm throat engulfing him whole. choso thinks this is it. this is how he dies. with his beautiful girlfriend sucking his dick in a field. or maybe he isn't gonna die. but he's definitely going to cum.

he's thrusting back now surprising you as his tip rams into the back of your throat. "fuck y/n...ngh...i can't....i'm gonna...i'm gonna", but before he can finish his sentence, you remove your lips not wanting to please him just yet.

"y..y..y/n?", choso utters.

wordlessly, you crawl closer to choso's face. you kiss him fervently, passionately, mixing both of your salivas with the salty taste of his cum left in your mouth. you drink up his moans like it's water. breaking from the kiss, you sit back on your haunches. rising up to your knees, you grabs the ends of your skirt and lift it up to your waist letting the breeze wash over your bare skin. his jaw drops.

"no panties y/n?"

and you smirk. he had finally started to piece together your plan. you swing your left leg over his head facing towards his cock and sit down, muffling any protests he might have with your cunt. you rock your hips back and forth hoping to relieve yourself on his mouth. and who would choso be if he didn't help his girlfriend pleasure herself.

his thick arms clamp around your plush thighs to sturdy yourself on his face. his tongue jolts out of his mouth to lap up at your cunt, slurping up all of your slick. you're breathless, eyes rolling back at the sensation. cunt weeping down his chin. you decide now is the perfect time to repay your doting boyfriend.

you lean forward, softly grabbing choso's still hard cock and press your tongue to the bottom of his shaft dragging it all the way to his tip. the almost cries he releases reverberates into your pussy, vibrating, bringing you bliss. you suck him off, pulling him off every few bobs to tap his cockhead against your tongue. fondling his balls, you can feel the throbs and twitches of his penis in your mouth.

he's close.

and so are you.

tears creep up at the corners of your eyes as choso refuses to let up. he laps at your cunt like he had traveled through the desert and just found fresh water. dragging your pussy lips across his face. nibbling at your clit, pinching it the smallest bit with his teeth zapping you with a pain that was just delectable. the two of you chase your highs in each other, choso invetibly beating you to the finish line but you not far behind.

he cums into your mouth. one sharp thrust. and then another. and then another blowing load after load into the back of your mouth until you feel his body go slack beneath you. but choso is no selfish lover. despite you taking all of him, he continues his attack on your clit.

pursing his lips to create a suction, suckling your sweet nub until you crack. and you cum. hard. back arching as all of your muscles tense up. head whipping back as you practically scream. and then you go limp against his thighs, panting as you try to catch your breath.

you roll off of him, flipping around to lay next to him. you turn your head to face him and see the light sheen covering his face dripping down his neck staining the blanket beneath his head. you squirted. right into choso's mouth. and he doesn't even mind. he just looks back you with loopy, pussy drunk eyes and lazily smiles. "y/n, thank you".

and all you can do is smirk back at him because you're not done. you use the remaning bit of your strength to sit up and move to hover over his hips. you take one hand and bunch up your dress. your other moving to align his cock with your hole, giving it a pump or two letting it harden again.

you slam yourself down his cock. the two of you moaning in unison at the intrusion. your pussy already well lubricated from the work his mouth did earlier. his cock well coated from your tongue. the stretch so delicious as he penetrates you.

"fuck y/n...ngh...fuck....its....it's too much!!"

"don't you wanna make me proud? we just got to dessert cho".

you begin to bounce on his dick. thighs quickly growing tired, you start to ride him using all of the power that you can muster up. you roll your hips against him, clit bumping against his pubic bone. moaning uncontrollably letting his penis fill you whole.

one of his hands reach out to grab your waist, guiding you as you rock back and forth. the other reaching for the top of your dress to pop a tit. you audibly gasp at his bold gesture. and once he's pulled it out, he pulls you into him so he can suckle on the breast he's just revealed.

"fuck y/n", he breathes out. "it's too....ah...ahh...fuck...it's too much!"

all you can do is respond with your own moans. the feeling of his tongue swirling around your perky nipple. the way his cock fills you up. you swear you can feel it pounding into your tummy. your eyes rolling back into your head as you breathe through him fucking you.

the new angle of you leaning forward hitting spots that hadn't been reached before. and then, choso bends his knees, planting his feet into the ground to fuck up into you. jackhammering his hips into your hole, hitting the special spot in your pussy over and over and over.

"cho please....ah....please baby...come with me".

and it breaks you both. his hips stuttering as he wails out to you. "FUCK Y/N...AH...FUCK!". his cock twitches, straining to pump out another load into you. and you clench choso's cock as tight as you think you ever have. tightening up so hard until you feel like you can't anymore. your climax hitting you like a train. eyes closed, you fall against his chest, mouth slack as you try to catch your breath. cum seeping slowly out of your pussy.

while his dick begins to soften in you, you feel a large hand brush your dress down to cover your behind. soft lips press a gentle kiss to your head. the two of you lay there. choso's arms coming to wrap around you, gently soothing your muscles as he rubs against your back.

with no words, you both let the sun beat down on you. of course, a soft wind passes through to cool you guys down. catching your breath, you close your eyes and melt into choso. it's perfect. this is the perfect spring day.

[written-in-flowers]

Her Tamer: Demon!Yunho x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Demon!Yunho x Fem!Reader | side pairings: Yunho x OFC, Yunho x Mingi, demonline x Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, slight fluff | AU: demon au

Word Count: 12k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary: Following the death of his father, Yunho ponders over Hell's obvious unfair class system. When you make numerous attempts to get him in bed, he decides to try correcting your bratty behavior.

Tags: poly relationship, established relationship, bisexual sex, mentions of death/loss, mentions of illness, general angst, class separation, rough sex, brat taming, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, degradation, cuckquean, light bondage, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, breast play, exhibitionism, pet names (slut, bitch, whore, good girl, baby), facial, cum swallowing, panty sex, "just the tip", edging. Yunho simping over his actual woc!gf, Yunho generally being pissed at rich people because we should eat them.

Previously on Pretty Lady

Pretty Lady Masterlist

****

He never hated a sunrise before. The orange-yellow rays gradually pushed the night back up into the sky, breaking through and over the trees in the distance. The front courtyard remained dimly lit, though in a few hours its splendor would be in full light. Yunho used to hike up the mountains back home to bask in its warmth. The hot air would blow in from the molten lake where natural gold endlessly churned. His kin would come out from the main grounds, carrying metal poles and large vats to collect gold nuggets that washed up onto the lake overnight. They’d be turned into coins to be put in circulation. Yunho didn’t work at the mint, but he’d sit and watch them work until it was time to go. 

Like today. He stared away from the window to the uniform hanging on his closet door. Black and white, he wore the uniform every single day since he arrived at The Black Keep. Every morning, before sunrise, he’d bathe and fix up his appearance before pulling on the uniform. He’d go down to the kitchen where he’d snag a quick breakfast, then set about scheduling everyone's duties for the day. By the time anyone else arrived, he’d already have the chore chart finished, and be ready to get to work. Yet, today he could not bring himself to do it. 

“Yunho?” Mingi’s deep voice came from somewhere behind him. “Is everything okay? You weren’t in the kitchen.”

“Sorry. Overslept.”

“Overslept? You? Impossible.”

Yunho hardly slept at all, to be honest. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“Hey,” a hand touched his shoulder, the warmth radiating through his thin nightshirt, “I know it’s been a rough few days for you, but at least it’s over now. Your dad’s at rest. He's not suffering anymore.” 

Yunho didn’t want to talk about it. He stared down at the letter on his desk. The creases in the paper became more pronounced from him constantly folding and unfolding it, but the ink was bolder than ever. 

‘My dear Yunho, 

I’m afraid this is my last letter to you. As you know, the holy pestilence I caught in the mortal realm has finally taken its course. The doctors tried all kinds of treatments and methods, but no amount of magic will undo what that priest had done. Don’t worry about me, my boy. Your Pop has lived a good life here in the old mountains. I may not have been a rich demon, but I lived as well as we could. 

I love you, Yunho. You are my greatest achievement, my greatest treasure, and my greatest love. Everything I have done was to try giving you a better life. I wanted you to have the things I never did, and I like to think in small ways I accomplished that. You left our home and went on to be more than I ever imagined for you. You got out, son, and that alone makes me proud. 

Please, do not mourn me, Yunho. Celebrate me. Go buy the good stuff and enjoy a few drinks. Buy a rare hunk of meat, cook it in some fancy elegant sauce, and eat it. Hell, go to one of the nicer brothels and splurge on the high price girls. Buy that girl of yours something pretty. Buy everything and anything you want. Bet money on winning horses or hounds. Don’t mope or cry about me. I didn’t get to live, so I want you to do it for me. 

Love forever, 

Pop.’ 

He received the news of his father’s death shortly after the letter's arrival. A messenger came to give him his father’s belongings, which wasn't much, but now sat in a box in the closet. He planned on selling the house to someone or perhaps renting it for some extra cash. His father wouldn’t have wanted him to hang on to the past. Sadly, the past kept wanting to hang onto him. 

Yunho has been working for most of his life to keep himself and his father fed. Despite his father's title of ‘Lord’, the family fortune had been squandered centuries before Yunho had been born. The only treasures left to them were their old decrepit mansion and a few family heirlooms. After years of scrubbing floors and cleaning clothes, he had the opportunity to work in a lord's household as a footman. From then he became a serving man, a butler, assistant, and finally a household manager. He moved from house to house serving the elite who looked down on his family. When he came into Seonghwa’s employ, his father couldn't have been happier. 

“Hey, my boy is going to work for the son of Asmodeus! Ain't that something?”  

He’d made good money. Very good money, and most of it went back home to his father. Unfortunately, his father's gambling problem took hold of him, causing him to own more money than he's worth. From what his cousins told him, a lord offered him a job possessing souls in the mortal world. Yunho wished he'd been told beforehand; he could have talked him out of it. Possessions aren’t easy, and only the well trained can perform them successfully. He told Yunho it was good money: fifty gold for every soul brought down. Yunho said his father was too old; he'd be going to his “nap” soon. His father argued that he still had it in him and to not worry. Things had been going okay, from what he’d told Yunho, until a priest got in the way. 

He doesn’t know what kind of magic the priest used, but it’d landed his father in the hospital. The doctors told Yunho that holy magic is deadly to their kind, just like holy weapons, and it would kill his father. He liked to think that he’d at least get paid for the gig. He didn’t. The lord who sent him never planned on paying him, but instead passing off his father’s hard work as his own. Yunho would have killed him were he not high born. 

“You should get ready,” Mingi said. “The Masters haven’t woken up yet, so you still have time. That big ball thing starts tonight, so they said they want to get to the hamlet early to get settled in for the weekend.”

Yunho groaned at the realization. Today was the first day of Prince Asmodeus's private ball. The Passionate Heart Ball was simply another excuse for the nobility of Hell to get together and indulge in all sorts of debauchery. Servants are not allowed to attend on a guest level, but do accompany their masters to serve. Seonghwa normally let Yunho stay behind to manage the keep, and he'd take someone else, but this time he insisted Yunho join them. He claimed the house didn’t feel right without Yunho there. His father would say that having a lord's trust comes in handy in the long run, but Yunho did not see how. Leaving the window, Yunho went to a wash basin by the mirror. He splashed cool water onto his face to soothe the heat rising inside him. 

“It wasn’t as if he was a young demon, Yunho,” Mingi said, watching him change out of his nightshirt. “Your father was four-hundred centuries old and close to taking his Big Nap; he wasn’t exactly a spring chicken. He shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with possessions at his age.” 

“Don’t blame my father for falling victim to the greed of high borns.” 

“I’m not,” he said, “But I am saying that your dad’s in a better place, somewhere, maybe. I don’t know where we will go when we die.”

“Neither do I,” and that scared him. 

Picking up his uniform shirt first, Yunho thought about when he first heard what happened. He had been wrapped up in Mingi’s arms, enjoying his warmth and closeness after a long day, when Linette came into his room. Anxious, the young demon told him he had a phone call. It was his father. Yunho remembered how frail he sounded; his deep voice croaking and weak from his drained powers. He’d assured Yunho he’d be alright; that with some medicine, rest, and proper care, he’d be back on his feet in no time. The doctor Yunho spoke to disagreed. 

‘The magic stayed in him too long. He should have come straight to us after the exorcism, but he went home instead. We don’t know how long he has, but we’ll do our best to save him.” 

Yunho never felt so helpless before. Seonghwa gave him leave to be with his father without question, but that had been the worst part. Seeing his father, a strong demon of greed, so sickly and frail tore his heart in two. He’d thought to ask the lord who gave him the job for assistance of some kind, but he didn’t even answer Yunho’s calls. When he visited him personally, he was rejected with laughter. It was the least he could have done. It was another example of how the rich exploited and abused the poor without a care in the world. 

He checked himself out in a nearby mirror. His uniform fit him like a glove, since he’d paid to personally have sets tailored. Tailored clothes were an unheard of luxury back home. The clothes normal people wore either came from secondhand shops or were made from cheap fabric. Looking over the small corner dresser, a ring caught his eye. His father's opal and silver ring sat on the top, and his heart dropped. His most expensive possession, it had been passed down from Jeong to Jeong for hundreds of years. It was the last symbol of their status. Yunho slipped it onto his ring finger, fondly recalling the first time he ever saw it. 

“This has been in our family since before Lucifer. I would never give this up. Not for all the gold in the world.”

“Don't you look good,” said Mingi, likely trying to lighten his mood. 

Were he not plagued by his own thoughts, Yunho might have playfully flirted back. Not today. Not when the world felt so lifeless and grey. He may have not been the best parent, but Yunho did not hate his father. They had ups and downs as all families do, yet hate never crossed his mind once. Not even when his father gambled away his money on hounds and horses. He couldn't envision himself hating his father. Mingi’s arms went around his waist, and he rested his head on his shoulder. Yunho felt a lump swell in his throat, threatening to burn his eyes with tears. 

“He was a good man,” he whispered. “A good man who they took advantage of.” 

“I know,” he said softly, kissing the crook of his neck. “We should eat,” Mingi said, idly playing with his dangling earring, “Maybe a bit of-”

“-Did you know he was a jester before he was forced into Possessions?” Yunho said bitterly, tears glazing his eyes. “He was a jester for Lord Authos, this demon in the mountains. The man used to make a complete fool of my father, forcing him to perform tricks and jokes for the entertainment of others. I remember once seeing them throw rotten food at him in a game.” Yunho recalled the memory so vividly, it might have happened yesterday. “They thought it’d be funny,” he said, hate in his voice, “To see who could get the most hits. My father…” the resentment burned deep inside him, “He had to stay attached to a wheel and take the humiliation because those high born scum-”

“-Easy, love, easy,” Mingi soothed him softly, rubbing his arms and nuzzling his neck. “Not all high borns are like that. Our masters wouldn’t do anything like that-”

“-Yes, they’ve done worse,” he said. “Before YN came, they used to feed servants to the beast in the greenhouse. Hongjoong carries around a fucking whip to remind us who is in charge, and that he could whack us whenever he damn well pleases-”

“-He doesn’t do that anymore-”

“-I don’t care,” he spat, hands curling into fists. “Let’s not forget the demons who get thrown into the arena to die for the entertainment of the rich. They have to fight for their lives just to get back to freedom.”

“They were criminals, Yunho-”

“-Then why not punish them as criminals should be punished? Why is a man who stole a loaf of bread forced to fight his way to freedom? Did these bastards ever stop to wonder why he stole that bread?” 

“Yunho, please, calm down,” Mingi said again, still comfortingly. 

“And her,” the word came in a hiss through his teeth, “That woman treats us like playthings.”

“That isn’t true, Yunho,” he said a bit more firmly. Yunho forgot; he is your bodyguard and very fond of you. 

“Oh no? The woman is constantly flaunting and flashing her body at me, hoping I’ll give into my weakness again and fuck her brains out,” he said, remembering the last time he indulged you. He’d wanted it, of course, but after his father’s death, a high born woman is the last person he wishes to pleasure. “I’m surprised she isn’t pregnant with all the times she’s ridden cock.”

“Yunho, that’s enough,” Mingi said, moving away from him. “I know you’re angry and grieving, but don’t you dare start on her. She’s been nothing but kind to you. Okay, so she gets a bit horny, but who here doesn’t get like that? We’re all incubi and succubi, if you’ve forgotten. It’s in our nature to be that way. I recall you not saying ‘no’ whenever she managed to get you in bed, or were you pretending to make her happy?” 

“Of course not. I won’t deny I enjoyed every second, but…we are nothing to them,” he said, keeping the thickness from his voice. “We’re toys for their amusement. We can be disposed of, dismissed on a whim, and punished for the smallest infraction, and nothing would be done about it. Nobody would raise a hand or speak a word. We might not wear collars, but we’ll always be slaves to them.” 

It was true. His father proved that over and over throughout his childhood. When Authos saw his father’s potential in the coin factory, he brought him into his household as the jester. Yunho remembered every punishment he witnessed whenever his father did not perform well. Seonghwa and his brothers might not engage in the same amusements, but they never spoke against it either. They went to the arena, enjoying the benefits of their station. They did not protest when they witnessed poor treatment in front of them. If they did, it was said with annoyance or boredom. 

“Let’s get something to eat, huh? Otherwise, we’ll be starving when we get there.” 

“I don't think I can.”

“Just try.”

Yunho supposed he could. The pair left the servant's quarters for the kitchen, which was starting to come to life. Other servants walked around in their uniforms, preparing for The Masters and Mistress to wake up for their usual routine. He saw Cook and Linette already arguing across the island counter, and the footmen fighting about who gets to drive the Masters to the hamlet. The laundress stood near the scullery, scolding a maid so harshly the girl might burst into tears. Yunho did not have it in him to intervene in any of these spats. He walked by Cook and Linette to a cupboard pantry, where he normally fixed his own breakfast, but couldn't find the desire to eat. 

“-Master Seonghwa asked for a special breakfast,” Cook's rough voice reached from behind him, “And that's what I'm making. She's going to just have to swallow it.”

“Lady YN doesn't want the prefixed breakfast. She wants her own.”

“Master Seonghwa is the Duke, so his orders trump over hers,” he retorted. “Yunho,” he called him, “Come here and tell this Imp-”

“-Imp?!”

“-That I ain't taking special orders today. Master Seonghwa has requested a pre-fixed menu, and that's what I'm following.”

Yunho sighed deeply, pinched the space between his eyes before finally turning around. “What does Lady YN want?” he asked Linette. 

“French toast with strawberries, hashbrowns and eggs,” she answered. “She doesn't want to eat what Master Seonghwa has picked.”

“Too fucking bad,” hissed Cook. “She can't get her way all the time. There's rules in this keep, last time I checked!”

“Cookie, enough,” Yunho said, patting his shoulder. “Linette, Cook is right. Master Seonghwa asked for a specific type of breakfast, and Cook has already gone about preparing it.”

“She's not going to-”

“-I'm sorry, but Cook is starting to fix everything,” Yunho said, trying to keep himself calm. Why did you have to complicate everything? Why couldn't high born people make everyone's lives easier and take what they’re given? The rest of them have to. “She will have to eat whatever-”

“-She's the Mistress of this-”

“-Tough shit,” he nearly snapped. “Master Seonghwa is the Master, A Duke of Lust, and an Heir to Asmodeus’s throne. His word is law around here. Even with the title she holds now, she's going to have to come to heel once in a while. If she has an issue with that, she can take it up with one of the Masters.” 

Takenaback by his response, Linette did not speak at first. “She said-”

“-I don't care,” he cut her off again. “That's my final word on the subject. Franny!” He called the laundress, “Keep shouting at that girl, and I will give you something to cry about! They are just sheets! They can be washed again!” He turned to the four footmen near the back door, “Edgar, you are driving Master Seonghwa, Hongjoong and San. Mingi will be driving Mistress YN. Daniel will valet for the Masters, and Joseph will valet for The Mistress. If I hear any more bickering, everyone is getting a whipping from me personally!” He looked to the room at large, “It is six o'clock in the morning, how can you all have the energy for this nonsense? Am I running a house staff or a nursery?!” 

He left the kitchen without another word. Yunho began wishing he had not left his room. He squeezed his eyes tight, his instincts carrying him to Seonghwa’s bed chamber, as he pictured his father’s last moments. He’d told Yunho to go home. He said he didn’t want him to see him this way. His aunt and cousins stayed behind to watch over him for Yunho, and called him regularly now that they had a phone. He pictured his father, broad and strong, laying brittle and pale in his bed. His usual warmth, Yunho remembered, slowly turned cold and stiff as time passed. It sapped life from him slowly. That lump came back to his throat and he forced it down. 

He couldn’t help thinking of the lord, Lord Authos, who was part of Prince Mammon’s court. Clearly wanting to gain favor with the Prince, he offered the possession job to low income workers who wanted to earn some extra money. Authos could easily have done it himself, but he felt himself too above such work. All nobles did. It’s why they didn’t do their own housekeeping or cooking. 

He walked into Seonghwa’s apartment, and already sensed a shift in the air. Yunho moved to the bedroom doors where he heard your soft moans. Of course. When are you not throwing yourself at the nearest person? It was likely with some kisses and teasing, you'll get your own breakfast and disrupt everyone else's routines. You didn't care. Why should you? An inconvenience to one is not an inconvenience to a lord or lady.  

He stopped himself. You weren't to blame for his father's death. You didn't even know. He hadn't told anyone aside from Mingi, Seonghwa and Linette. Mingi was right. You might be a bit overzealous with your desires, but you never forced yourself on him even with your new abilities. You’ve always treated him with respect and compassion. You’re certainly different from other ladies he’d served, and he shouldn’t take his anger out on you or any of his masters. 

But, a part of him simply could not help it. 

Yunho decided to tidy the room instead. He had no desire to interrupt and possibly be drawn into the act. He only wanted to push away the thought of his father lying helpless in a hospital bed. When he heard your final climax, he stopped fluffing pillows and knocked on the door. 

“Enter,” Seonghwa panted from behind the door. 

As expected, both you and Seonghwa laid tangled in one another. Fully nude, neither of you bothered covering yourselves when he entered. Not that he expected that. His eyes scanned over your body, taking in your shape and size from afar. The usual urge to fondle and kiss you came to him, but he’d learned long ago how to control those impulses. If he stopped to indulge every time he felt a trickle of arousal, he’d get no work done. He didn’t have all the time in the world like some people did. 

“Good Morning, my lord, my lady,” Yunho bowed. 

“Morning, Yunho,” you smiled at him. “Ooh, I like the ring. It’s new.” 

“I thought I’d try accessorizing today,” he half-lied. 

“It looks good. Is that a real opal?”

“It is.” 

“Greed demons only wear real gems,” said Seonghwa. “You’ll never catch one dead in imitation stuff.”

“What did Cook say about my breakfast, by the way?” you asked, sitting up and stretching. “I sent Linette to ask him about it.”

“What breakfast?” Seonghwa asked before Yunho could respond. “I already sent him a menu for today.”

“I saw it,” you said, “But I’ve been craving french toast with strawberries and powdered sugar lately and thought it was a good day to have them.”

“I’m sorry, my lady, but Cook only prepared the ingredients and supplies for Master Seonghwa’s fixed menu,” Yunho said. “He doesn’t have all the ingredients to make anything off that menu.”

“Well, can’t he just get it? The market isn’t that far. He can send someone to get the stuff, and he can make it.” 

‘Or you can stop being a brat and eat what you’re given.’ He thought sourly. 

“He doesn’t have anyone to spare,” Yunho answered honestly. 

You left Seonghwa’s side to kneel in front of him. In the morning light, your divinity glowed. He swept over your naked breasts, following a trail to your center where you kept yourself trimmed. Having just had Seonghwa, he spotted a distinct wetness on your inner thighs. When he met your eyes again, you gave him that typical flirtatious smirk of yours. A high born woman was the last person he saw himself pleasing today. No doubt you’d now use your seductive powers to get what you want from him. 

“But, surely with all your influence around here,” you said, reaching for his hand, “You could just talk to him for me? You’re one of the only people he actually listens to.”

“Because we respect the chain of command,” he replied, “Which is what we’re doing here. Master Seonghwa made an order, and we’re only following it.”

“I’m the Mistress around here. I think I have a bit more power than I used to, right?” You massaged his hand delicately, giving him a small pout. “I shouldn’t have to beg a servant to get what I want.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he slipped his hand from your grasp, “But unless Master Seonghwa changes his mind, then there’s nothing we could really do for the situation.”

“But Yunho,” you brought him close, your naked body against his clothed one, “Aren’t I your goddess?”

He knew you’d use that line. The image of you taking advantage of him crossed his mind. You’d undress him, kissing down to his crotch where you’d eagerly suck him. If he couldn’t enjoy Linette’s lovely body or Mingi’s soft lips, he’d at least get yours. It’s not as if you’d say ‘no’. Everyone in the keep knew you could go for much longer and didn’t mind multiple lovers. But, he thought of the work he had to do downstairs. 

“You are,” he said, though it wasn’t your face that came to mind these days, “But goddess or not-”  

“-Kitten,” Seonghwa cut you off, “How about you start a bath for us? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Or Yunho can do it with me,” you suggested, “Like he’s supposed to.” 

“YN,” his voice came more firmly, “Go, please.” 

You gave a short huff of contempt, but then slipped from the bed. 

Yunho busied himself tying back the curtains behind him when Seonghwa spoke. “It’s not her fault.”

“You spoil that girl,” he said, roughly tugging on the golden chords. “She might be a lady, but there’s a hierarchy around here, and you’re in charge. Not her.”

Seonghwa chuckled, “Try telling her that.”

“I’ve never understood the point of having a set routine if it is constantly broken,” he said. “She never eats when or what everyone else does. She never dresses accordingly. She never-”

“-Yunho, she isn’t to blame,” Seonghwa said harshly. “As you said, she’s a Lady of Eden-”

‘A whore of Eden, more like.’ 

“-And you’ll respect her.” 

‘Why? She doesn’t respect herself.’

He stopped himself again. 

“I’m sorry about your father, Yunho, but he entered into that agreement. He knew the risks before he went up there.”

“The man didn’t even pay him,” Yunho seethed. “He risks his life going up there to collect souls, and the bastard doesn’t pay him. He laughed. He fucking laughed.” His voice cracked, thinking of the highborn lord's wheezy laughter. “I asked him to pay up, and he laughed.” 

“Authos is a demon of greed.” 

“He knew my father could not disobey his orders, and took advantage of that for his own gain.” 

“Again: are you really that surprised?”

“It doesn’t make me any less angry.” 

“I know it doesn't, but lashing out at others is not going to heal anything. It’ll only fuel your anger more.”

“Good. Somebody should be angry.” 

“Carry on with your duties, Yunho,” he said with a sigh. “I want everyone on the road by nine o’clock. The hamlet is far, and it’ll take forever to get there. See that Cook makes YN’s breakfast, please.” 

“Yes, my lord.”

He bowed and left the room. Seonghwa didn’t understand. He has never had to answer to anyone, not even his lecherous, indifferent father. If Yunho’s father had refused the task, he would’ve been whipped or worse, and then forced to go. Authos knew his father needed the money. He knew about his father’s gambling debts; he knew about the loan sharks that constantly dogged him, and how deep in the hole he’d gotten. Yunho’s salary combined with his did not make the cut. None of them understood that. Right as he walked out of Seonghwa’s apartment, a high voice called out to him from nearby. 

“Yunho,” Master Hongjoong stood by his open door, tying his black robe around his waist. Cherry red hair slightly tousled from sleep, he still had the bleary eyed look of having woken up. “Yunho, make sure Cook brings out the riesling for breakfast. Seonghwa prepared a light breakfast, from what he told me.”

Wine for breakfast? “Of course, my lord. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thanks,” he beamed, then escaped back into his room. 

It wasn’t long before the third master of the house appeared. A towel draped over his shoulders, sweat matting his black hair, Master San grinned at him happily. “Yunho, glad I ran into you,” he said, dabbing his forehead. A morning run. How nice to have such leisure time. His father would be getting ready to amuse the lords right now. “Can you make sure that Cook makes my eggs over medium? Over-easy is too runny for me.”

“I’ll let him know right away, my lord,” he bowed. 

“Thank you, Yunho.” 

At least he gets a ‘thank you’. He never received that from other lords or ladies. Yunho knew, as he walked back to the kitchen, that he was incredibly lucky. If he worked for any other lord, he’d be whipped on the spot for his attitude. Seonghwa might sympathize after his childhood in the slums, but he was still part of the upper class. The nobility. The people who made other peoples’ lives miserable simply because they could. One would think that kind of treatment would be given to sinners and mortals, not their fellow demons. 

“Cook,” he approached the demon by the stoves, flipping bacon on a flat-top grill, “Master Seonghwa has approved of Mistress YN’s breakfast order.”

“What?!” he growled at once, cutting up the bacon with his spatula, “You’re toying with me, boy.”

“I’m afraid not. You’ll have to send someone to get the ingredients for it.”

“I don’t have enough hands,” he gestured to the four cooks around him. “The market is an hour away from here. Tell him I can’t.”

“I’ll send one of the servants, then. Master Seonghwa is the Master of the House. He gets what he wants.”

“Hmpfh, they all get what they want,” he grumbled. “Back in my day, the women did what the men told them or else got a black eye. He lets that little nympho-”

“-Cookie,” Yunho said sternly, “Don’t get riled up again or you’ll irritate your hip.” From what he knew, Cook sustained his lifelong injury from holy magic centuries ago. It never healed right. 

He took the chopped bacon off the grill, “Alright, alright. What did she want again?”

It won’t heal his wounds, but it could be fun to see their faces. “She said french toast with blueberries and cream.” He then added, “And don’t shoot the messenger, but Master Hongjoong asked for chardonnay with his breakfast wine and Master San wants his eggs over easy.” 

He growled, fangs flashed for the briefest moment. “Any other special requests while you’re here, Jeong?”

“No. Everything else stays as is.”

He gruffed, then went back to the grill. Yunho walked to the coffee station where the servants prepared their own drinks. He mused over how his father loved coffee, and what a luxury it was to the lower classes. One might think greed demons draped themselves in precious metals and gems, wore fine designer clothes and drove flashy cars. The ignorant thought they drank fine wines and ate rare and exotic dishes. It might be true of the wealthy, but not the poor. Not like him and his father, who had nothing. Yunho worked hard to get the things he had now, while people like Seonghwa and his brothers simply received it. Stirring fine sugar into the rich, dark drink, he recalled what his father once told him. 

‘Enjoy the finer things slowly, Son. We don’t get them very often.’ 

He’d said this when he caught Yunho greedily shoving chocolate in his mouth. Another rarity. Yunho normally lets his resentment float away in the air, but not today. 

****

The feast disgusted him. Standing by the kitchen door, he watched maids take plates of food upstairs. Chilled fruits, fresh baked goods, steaming breakfast potatoes, sausages and bacon, and various types of jams and spreads went by him on silver platters. Fresh squeezed orange juice, cold milk, and hot coffee were carried up in carafes. Seonghwa, San and Hongjoong would be eating a special kind of frittata with zucchini and fresh herbs, accompanied with rations of bacon and crusty bread. His father usually ate a hunk of bread or a bowl of cornmeal mush with mint tea. Hardly the food of kings. 

Or dukes. 

“The wine Master Hongjoong requested, sir,” a servant said to Yunho, showing the bottle for his inspection. 

“Perfect,” he grinned. “Thank you, Diana.” 

Yunho typically then worked with the housekeeping staff to tidy up the apartments, but instead, he went upstairs behind the maids. He wanted to see it with his own eyes. He saw the masters and mistress sitting at their dining table, a table decorated in a fine cloth and real silver candlesticks with fresh flowers. This dining room was larger than the poor mountain shacks back home. He watched the servants put down the trays around the table, then the magic began. 

“Um, Yunho,” you said first, staring down at your plate, “I’d asked for strawberries and sugar. This is, like, the opposite.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” 

In front of you was a stack of fluffy slices of french toast with cream and jam in between, topped with blueberries. He knew people who’d be more than grateful to have such a sweet, filling breakfast. Yet, you pouted over the slight change. 

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said. “Cook must’ve misheard me. He’s been distracted lately. His hip must be bothering him again.”

“Then Cook must be really off, because I asked for my eggs over medium,” said San, who examined his eggs. “Didn’t you tell him about it, Yunho?”

“I did, of course, sir.”

“He also got the riesling and chardonnay confused,” said Hongjoong, who sipped the drink from a wine glass with a silver stem. Real silver, not painted wood. “But, no big deal. It’s still just as good.” 

Your disappointment healed something inside him. “I guess this is okay,” you said, cutting into it and taking a bite. “It’s amazing either way. Like, Cook is a genius.”

“The man’s been around since before Lucifer’s fall. He worked for Beelzebub before our dad hired him. It's why he gets away with everything.” 

“Tell Cook thanks,” you told Yunho, “And that I hope his hip gets better. He’s a mean ol’ grouch, but he’s our mean ol’ grouch.” 

You took a big bite of the french toast, cream ending up on the sides of your mouth. Seeing the mess brought images of the last time you put him in your mouth. It’d been sloppy and rough, involving him choking you with it. He had indulged you because you’d kissed him beforehand. You’d learned how to control the dosage of your kisses, knowing light pecks only lasted an hour while deep kisses kept one going all day. Yunho did see the downsides even if other people did not: it was physically taxing and draining. He didn’t have the time for that. 

Not with you, anyway. 

“Will you be requiring anything else, my lords?” he asked the family at large. 

“No, thank you, Yunho,” Seonghwa answered, picking up the newspaper he’d been handed. “You may finish packing up.”

He left the staff to clean up after breakfast service, and started preparing for departure to the meadows. While the family went off to enjoy their day, everyone else kept working. His father never had a day off. Jesters are meant to be “on” every day from sunup to sun down. He only stopped when his masters went to sleep; the same fate his son shared now. The only difference was Yunho got Sundays off. 

Such was the life of the lowborn. 

“On a scale of one to ten,” Mingi said when he approached the carriage outside, “How disappointed are you that your little plan backfired?”

Yunho sighed, “About a three. In the end, it was childish and petty. Deep down, I shouldn’t be blaming them for what another demon lord did.” 

“You're lucky Master Seonghwa can’t read your mind. You'd be in trouble for sure.” He then said, “How about you, me and Linette get a drink tonight when they've gone to sleep? Asmodeus has the best bartenders who can sneak us the good stuff.”

“Alright.”

Everyone got into their places when the front doors opened and the four masters came out. Seeing them in their tailored clothes and expensive jewelry, smelling of fine perfumes, his resentment for the higher classes grew. He watched Hongjoong and San slide into your carriage while Seonghwa rode alone. What sort of change had you demanded now? He didn’t care. He’d be riding with Linette and some of the staff. At least, that was what he thought. 

“Yunho,” you called to him sweetly, “Come ride with me.”

He noticed the short sundress you'd thrown on, and couldn't look away. The deep V neck line plunged between your breasts, making them more noticeable to him. The last time he touched them came to mind, your hard nipples being teased by his tongue. Linette had been there, stroking him while you both shoved your tits in his face. 

“Oh, I'm already riding with-”

“-And now you can ride with me,” he saw the glimmer of flirtation in your eyes. “I know you got my order wrong on purpose,” you said with a sly smile. “You can make it up to me in the car.”

“He's already riding with me,” Seonghwa poked out his head from his carriage window. 

“But Seonghwa-”

“-He is my butler. He rides with me.”

You huffed, and walked off. Yunho couldn't ignore the pang of disappointment. He watched your dress swish along the backs of your thighs. If he couldn't have Linette and her sweet lips, he could at least have enjoyed yours instead. 

“Yunho, come along now.”

Unable to refuse, Yunho climbed inside the carriage. He'd been looking forward to riding with the others. There are so few chances for down time in their line of work, and he wanted to take advantage of it. He hadn't spent much time with Linette, and he would've liked to be with her. Seonghwa pulled out a deck of cards as the carriage began rolling. Yunho’s lip curled slightly knowing how this ride would end. 

“She can be incorrigible,” he said, expertly shuffling the deck. “I suppose the railing I gave her wasn't enough.”

“She is part succubus, sir.”

“We're both incubi, Yunho, and we can control it just fine.”

“She might still be trying to control that part of herself. It's hard to learn that when everyone enables her.”

“We enable her, hm?”

“Yes, my lord. If she is accustomed to getting what she wants, then she'll  see no reason to control her urges.”

“Is that why you're always rejecting her?”

“I reject her because not all of us have the time in the world. We have work to do.” 

“But when you have no work and are stuck in a carriage with her for a long trip?” he suggested, a knowing glint in his eyes. “She loves big ones, and you're…considerable.”

“Well, if that were the case, I wouldn't mind indulging her.” He'll admit, the idea of you half naked, moaning and bouncing in his lap sounded nice. Though, Linette sounded so much better. “She's…”

“A horny nymph that knows exactly what to do to lure you into her bed,” Seonghwa finished amusedly. 

“Yes.”

“You should have seen her when you left,” he said. “She whined that she wanted you to join. I explained to her what has been going on with you, and she stopped after that.” Seonghwa eyed the ring on Yunho's finger. “That is a nice ring though. Where did you get it?”

“Family heirloom,” he answered. Glad to have a topic aside from you, he grabbed at it. “It came with my father’s things. It belonged to one of my ancestors; I don't know which one. It was the most expensive thing he owned.”

“It must’ve been hard for him,” he began dealing out cards. “Greed demons love money and gold.”

“But not all of us have it,” he said, picking up his hand as it came. “I sent him money every payday to keep him at least comfortable, and he gambled a good chunk of it away. He was drowning in his debts, and always needed money.” 

“What about your mother? You never talk about her.”

Yunho’s heart ripped another hole. “She was killed by an angel,” he said. “She was a demon of wrath.”

“I thought you were pureblooded.”

Yunho shook his head, “They told me they met in the inner city at a gambling den. She was a guard; my father was a jester.” 

“Well, that explains your strength ability,” he huffed, putting a card back and picking up another, “Can that be the reason you leave my Kitten so sore when you’re done with her?” he smirked. “She tells me you become a different person when you’re hard.”

“I suppose. Her kisses only make it worse.”

“Ha, that they do,” he snorted. “She knows the power she holds and isn't afraid to use it now. It’s how she gets her way.”

“That and that she has you wrapped around her fingers, sir. I never knew a Son of Asmodeus to cave to his submissive’s charms so easily.” 

Seonghwa smirked, “She’s very persuasive, as you well know. You oblige her.”

“She’s my mistress. I have to cater to her every whim.” 

“Then, you can cater to her at the party. I'd like you to come with us,” he said next. He hissed when Yunho showed his winning hand, and took back all the cards. He started shuffling again as he said, “My father's butlers are fine, but they don't know us the way you do.”

“I'm not going to be a toy,” Yunho said sternly. 

“You won’t be,” he assured him. “You’ll be there to serve, not to entertain.”

“Both are the same thing to that crowd.” 

“Not with me. Now,” he started dealing the cards again, “Let’s put in bets this time. It makes things more interesting.” 

By the time they reached Asmodeus’s territory, Seonghwa lost a ring, a watch and most of his money. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t play against someone who can block me from their mind,” Seonghwa said, chuckling at his misfortune. It must be nice when one doesn’t have to worry about going broke. 

The sun shone high above the flowery meadows that stretched for miles, smelling of wildflowers and fresh air. It made for a romantic, tranquil sight as they drove through the dirt road. He imagined the flowers might carry some sort of alluring enchantment to draw people closer to his massive mansion in the countryside. They would be travelling to the countryside home reserved for the three masters. A hamlet set on the side of a large lake, there were two distinct areas: the main house, and the servant’s house. Yunho couldn’t help noticing the much larger main house could easily fit more people, while the servant house was smaller. 

Clearly, the royal ego needed the extra room. 

“I forgot how gorgeous this place is,” Seonghwa softly grinned. “When was the last time we were here, Yunho?”

“Four years ago, my lord.” 

The ride from the keep gave him a chance to cool down, so now his exhaustion finally hit him. But, there was work to be done. His own belongings would have to wait until the family was settled in. Immediately, Yunho began directing the footmen on where the masters’ luggage belonged. Seonghwa took the bedroom that overlooked the gardens; Hongjoong preferred the lakeside view, and San favored the room facing the meadow. Since it’s meant to house guests, you took up the room beside Seonghwa. No doubt he will discreetly tell you about the hidden door connecting the two bedrooms. Yunho unfortunately knew about the servant pathways behind the walls. To avoid disturbing the family and their guests, servants used these paths to get from one part of the house to the other without being seen. Cook told him the ones back in the keep were used for that before Seonghwa took over. 

He spent the afternoon preparing the different bedrooms, and then went to the kitchen for lunch service. He’d been inspecting the produce for bruises or rot when Linette appeared in the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare come to me with any special requests, girl,” Cook warned from the large walk-in cooler. “The menus are already set.” 

“She just wants a snack tray for lunch,” Linette said. “Green grapes, sliced ham and turkey, those little cheese cubes, and some crackers. Don’t say you don’t have them, because you do. She put it on her list.” 

“What’s wrong with what I am serving?” he asked, affronted. “It’s going to be a masterpiece. How could she want a silly snack tray instead?” 

“She isn’t that hungry after the breakfast she had,” she shrugged. “Can’t you just do it? She’s our mistress, and we have to go along with her wishes.” 

“Damned woman,” he grumbled, grabbing his apron and going back into the walk-in. “All the work we have to do and now I have…never in my years have I…should’ve stayed with Beezelbub…” 

Yunho felt her eyes fall on him, and he ignored her gaze. He pictured those big brown eyes surveying him from afar, likely trying to read his mood. If anyone other than Mingi stirred something inside him, it was Linette. 

“Yunho?” she walked over to him, “How are you?” 

“I’m well.”

She came around the counter to stand next to him. Yunho sometimes forgot how beautiful Linette really was. Enchanting and charming, the natural light highlighted her golden dark brown skin, and gave her curls a shine. She’d worn it back in a high slicked up ponytail, letting the curls fall freely at the end.  He gazed over her full lips, recalling their sweetness from the lip balm she wore, and thought of kissing them. He thought of holding her smaller frame in his large one, drowning his senses in her. Everything in his heart weighed him down, and he longed for a quiet moment with her. 

“No, really,” she said. “How are you feeling? I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you since your father passed.” 

“I said I’m well.”

“Yunho,” she drew closer to him, “Please, don't shut me out.”

Yunho paused, feeling her warm hands on his arm. “It’s a lot,” he admitted, putting the apples in a bowl. He swallowed back the lump again. “I’d rather not get into it right now.” 

“Okay,” she nodded. “We can talk later tonight then? Mingi wants to get drinks from the bar. The three of us could drink together and catch up.” 

A smile broke his stone face, cheeks getting warm. “Catch up, hm?”

“You can call it that, if you want,” she smirked. “I personally call it a bit of stress-relief,” she said in his ear, lips brushing the outer edge. “Your girl has been extra good lately. Shouldn't I get a little reward for that-”

“-Don’t,” he cut her off, “Or you might get it sooner than you intended.” 

She smiled, “Is that a promise?” 

He finally turned to see her. She no longer wore the black and white uniform of the rest of the staff. Hers was a light lavender that ended around her thighs. The first three buttons remained unopened, and from the right angle he saw her ample cleavage. When he really looked, he noticed a golden chain just beneath her collar. His heart warmed knowing that she wore the ring even under her clothes. Golden with the words “my beloved” engraved inside, it had been his mother’s wedding ring. She wore it in a necklace since it might get lost with the type of work she did. Yunho didn’t mind. Her simply wearing it made him happy. 

“Will you be entertaining tonight?” he asked, unable to control the slight possessiveness he felt over her sometimes. 

“Mistress YN said I could if I wanted,” she said. “There will be a lot of good looking lords and ladies there, but I don't want any of them.” She paused, “Will you be going or staying here?”

“Master Seonghwa wishes for me to go,” he replied. “On a serving basis only, not entertainment.”

“Shame,” she pouted, “I thought we could sneak away once they all start drinking and have our own party somewhere.” She glanced at Cook, who had his back turned, and leaned in closer, “I miss you in my bed. Mingi comes to me still, but I miss having you. It’s not the same.” 

“I haven’t been in the mood.”

“Even for me and Mingi?”

“Yes. I haven’t…felt up to it, that’s all. It isn’t you,” he added when he saw her frown. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, it’s that…”

“You’re still upset,” she finished for him. “I understand. It’s why I haven’t bothered you, but after I saw you explode in the kitchen,” she smiled bashfully and looked away, “I’ve been kind of turned on.” 

“What?”

“I’ve never seen you break like that before,” she said. She looked back up at him, “It was sexy. You’re usually so cool and calm even when you’re angry. Seeing you be so open turned me on a bit.” 

“If your mistress keeps pushing my buttons, you might see more of it.” 

“Maybe I can push them too?” 

She moved to press against him, but then a ringing bell caught their attention. Yunho saw the bell in Seonghwa's bedroom ringing, and wondered what he could possibly need now. 

“Later?” He turned to Linette. 

“Later,” she said, “If our mistress doesn't swipe you from me first.”

She tiptoed to kiss his cheek, then walked back over to Cook. Yunho put off his work to go to Seonghwa’s bedroom. Standing outside the door, he heard voices rising. 

“-I told you not to bring that thing with you! I specifically said it! I said ‘Kitten, bring whatever you like except that beast’!’”

“Oh, leave her alone! She's not hurting anyone.”

Yunho knew right away what Seonghwa referred to: Minnie, the miniature version of Octavius you'd created. The untrained plant slunk around your bedroom, being treated more like a dog than a plant. It hissed and growled at everyone except you. She bit and nearly strangled one of the footmen. She liked tearing up furniture, leaving her slimy trails everywhere, and eating everything in sight. Seonghwa warned you to keep her under control and properly train her. From what Linette said, it was not going well. Yunho didn't think you'd bring her with you. 

“She tore up my couch cushions, YN, and nearly killed one of the footmen,” he replied firmly. “I can't believe you brought her when I said not to.”

“I can bring her wherever I want,” you argued. “She's my baby.”

“She's a menace,” he retorted. “Look, she's eating my boots!”

“Minnie, no! Bad girl!”

Yunho heard a low growl be soothed into a soft purr. “She doesn't know any better,” you said. “She's only a baby.”

“A baby who needs proper training.”

“I have been training her. She's a work in progress.”

“I don't want her here. I told you to leave her at home.”

“I'm not a slave anymore. I don't have to listen to you if I don't want to,” you'd remarked. You sounded like a child. Yunho told him it was a mistake to let you keep it. “It's too late to send her back. I'll keep her in my room, I promise.”

“Fine,” he said defeatedly. “Just get her out of here before she eats the rest of my stuff.”

Opening the door, you stood slightly startled to find him there. In your arms was the bulbous green and purple plant with its thin vines acting like arms. No eyes, Minnie used the long tendrils to feel her way around. Yunho once told Linette he didn't see the beast lasting long. Either it wilts away and dies, gets lost or finally hits the masters’ last nerves.

“Yunho,” you said, taking in his presence, “Can you see if Cook has any spare meat for Minnie? She's hungry.”

“Yes, my lady.” The damn thing was always hungry. 

“Awesome, thanks! You can just bring it to my room.”

You beamed appreciatively and walked away. Yunho entered the apartment to find Seonghwa flopping down into a chair. He immediately went to work fixing a drink for his master, who took it gratefully. 

“I can't believe she brought that thing with her,” he groaned. “Now it's going to destroy the house.”

“I'll ask Jongho to keep a close eye on it, my lord.”

“I specifically asked her not to,” he continued, taking a drink. “She never listens.”

“Perhaps you should start reigning her in more,” he suggested. “You are the Master of this household. Not her. She should at the very least listen to what you have to say.”

“Are you saying I should spank her more often, Yunho?” he leered. “Or would you like to do it yourself?”

“If you wish to pass the job onto me, then I will do it, my lord.” The thought of you across his lap, weeping and whimpering as he spanked you hard crossed his mind. “She could use one.” 

He imagined you, so high and mighty, kicking your feet and wriggling as his spanking grew harsher. You'd get wet, no doubt, seeping from both holes as your arousal grew. Unlike his masters, he wouldn't give you the pleasure you needed until you earned it. A proper lesson isn't learned if there's a reward at the end. 

“It'd be a delicious sight, huh?” he asked. 

“She's…” 

“Been teasing you all morning. I've noticed. You're the hardest one for her to get into bed. I imagine it bugs her.”

“I have work to do. Was there something you needed from me, my lord?”

“Yes,” he said, drinking from his glass, “Can you make sure lunch is served in the garden? It's gorgeous outside and I'd like to enjoy the view.”

That was all? He called him away from Linette for that? “Yes, sir.” 

He bowed and went back towards the kitchen to relay the order. With everyone busy working on lunch service, Yunho went into the walk-in for strips of beef for the plant. He thought of giving the order to Linette or Jongho, but they were busy attending to your room. He put a few slices on a silver platter.

“I know you aren’t taking my Grade A, prime beef up to the beast, boy,” Cook said as he chopped onions. “That's dinner.”

“I only took a small portion,” Yunho said. 

“Why can’t you just find a hellcat or a bird and use that?”

“I’m sure it’ll find one eventually. Cook,” he sighed defeatedly, “I don’t like this any more than you. We must make do with what we have on hand.”

“Hmpf.” Despite his reaction, Cook knew he was right. “Back in my day,” Cook gruffed, pushing the onion aside, “Ladies had hellcats and hounds, not plants that eat everything in sight.”

“Oh, that’s not true and you know it,” Yunho chuckled, walking past him. “Mistress Minyoung once had a two-headed snake that kept strangling everyone, remember?”

This lightened the old demon’s mood somewhat, and Yunho went back upstairs. 

Entering your room, he should have known what he'd really be walking into: you half naked on the chaise couch by the window. You'd stripped off your dress to reveal the hot pink lingerie underneath, showing off the body he drooled over. 

“Ah, you brought Minnie's food,” you smiled, strategically laying on your front, hugging a pillow so he saw your whole figure. “Minnie, baby! Lunch!”

Minnie slunk from a leafy bed in the corner towards Yunho. She hissed, baring sharp fangs and waving her tentacles, and went for his ankles. Yunho nearly kicked her before tossing the food away. When she went towards it, he scowled before turning back to you. His eyes lingered on your chest again. He already knew of their softness and sensitivity. He loved flicking his tongue on them to hear you whine his name. Yunho could not help worshipping you every time he indulged. The only woman whose body beat yours was Linette, whom he adored. 

“Thank you, Yunho,” you said, making a point to grind as if getting into a comfortable angle. “You're always so helpful.”

“It's my job, my lady. If that is all, I have work.”

“You work too much,” you said, “That's not good. All work and no play?” 

“Not all of us have the luxury of getting to play all day,” he said as calmly as possible. Why did you all insist on wasting his time? “If you need nothing else-”

“-Not even a few minutes for your Mistress?” You pouted as you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs. He could see your shaved cunt through the flimsy underwear. “For your goddess?” you teased, giggling at his rosy cheeks.

He stepped forwards, walking to where you sat, “That depends…” Yunho suddenly wrapped his hand around your throat, keeping you in place on the couch, “Do you deserve it?” 

“Yunho…”

“Because sluts like you should work for what they want,” he said, his other hand going down your body to your center. Long fingers danced up and down your slit, prodding through the fine fabric keeping you apart. “If the masters won’t do it, I’ll gladly take up the task for them.”

“Yunho,” you said, surprised but not displeased, “What's gotten into you?”

He bent down to you, then said in a low voice, “You. You have been teasing me all day,” he traced lazy circles over your center which caused you to wriggle under him. “You've been flashing those tits of yours at me. You've been suggestive and forward. I bet if I'd ridden with you, I would've been the one getting a ride.” He gave your sex a light tap, sneering at your reaction. “Pathetic little slut,” he said, tapping it again, “Sex is all you think about, isn't it? Hm?”

“Yes,” you murmured, breath getting heavier as your arousal built up. 

“Well, so do I,” another smack, “And you don't see me dropping my pants every two minutes to get off. Some of us don't have the privilege of such free time.” He slapped your pussy once more, harsher than the last. “We have to work. We have things to do,” he gave another slap, “You should be more aware of that.”

“Yunho,” you whined, “Stop. It hurts.” 

If it truly did hurt, you would've forced him off you with your vines or sic your pet on him. Yunho knew you did want it. You'd been wanting it all morning. 

“It's supposed to hurt,” he said, rubbing your stinging center soothingly. “It's a punishment. I mean a real one, not what Master Hongjoong does. You're not going to get any dick from me. Only good sluts get my dick in them.”

“But I'm your-”

“-Right now, you're a bratty bitch who needs to learn her lesson,” he smacked your pussy again. 

He then roughly rolled you over onto your front, and lifted your ass into the air. Your soft giggle and surprised yelp told him you wanted this. If he truly sensed you didn’t, he would stop. Even if he resented your social class, he’d never hurt you on purpose. 

His large hand holding your wrists behind your back, he began landing hard spanks to your buttocks. Your cries sent blood pumping to his cock. They were the pathetic, childish whines that spankings produced; you wriggled around in every spank, but did not do much to escape him. Yunho grew harder seeing your cheeks move to the quick, hard hits. The feeling of his fingers hitting it felt good. The movement gave him that power he desperately wanted over you. He knew you'd be positively wet when he finished, begging to be touched at the very least. He wouldn't give into you.

“I'm not your boyfriends,” he said. “I won't fuck you just because you want it. You have to earn that with me.” 

The room became louder with the sounds of your painful cries and his hand meeting your ass. Touching it with the back of his hand, he felt the tender heat coming off them. Hongjoong always kept his spankings short nowadays, honestly holding back more than he did with regular maids. Yunho wasn't like that. Everyone received the same punishment the same way. He smacked your ass and the backs of your thighs a bit longer before stopping. 

He slackened his grip and gazed over you. He saw you laying there breathless, and eyeing his bulge. You must think you’ll be getting him now, but he’d love to deny you that. Not even Linette received a single inch when she misbehaved with him. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, hand smoothing over your tender ass. 

“I’m telling Seonghwa,” you cried, sniffling softly. 

“I asked you a question: have you learned your lesson?”

“I’m your mistress. You’re supposed to do what I say.”

Yunho shrugged, “Clearly not.” 

His hand fell down faster, swatting each cheek until you were wriggling away from him. Whenever you drew too far up the couch, he dragged you back down. Seeing your wet panties, he pushed your legs apart and started slapping it again. This caused you to jump, quaking from the lighter smacks he put to it. 

“Now?” he asked, rubbing your swollen sex and feeling it throb on his finger tips. 

“It’s not fair,” you sobbed into the cushions. 

“It sounds more than fair to me,” he replied, “Maybe I should do it in a way that you’d understand.”

Tugging off his tie, he bound your wrists together with an intricate knot. “Stay still,” he said, giving your thigh a smack when you shimmied away from him. He withdrew his cock from his pants, feeling it pulsate in his hand, and pressed it to your flimsy underwear. “If you even try to cum, I’m stopping,” he warned, softly groaning at your swollen lips against his tip. “This is for me to enjoy, not you.”

“You’re supposed to do what I say. I want you to fuck me.”

“And you’re supposed to stay still,” he spanked you once more, “Or I leave and give my cock to somebody else.” 

“It’s mine!”

“No, it’s not.” 

He rolled his tip around your clit, tapping it lightly and tracing it. You quaked under him, and he heard your frustration. It didn’t bother him at all. 

“Your masters are going to punish you,” you cried, sobbing when he smacked your ass once more. “Really, really, bad, for what you’re doing to me.”

“Psh, are you kidding me?” he chuckled, enjoying the light feeling of your panties on his cock. “They’d probably stay and watch. You asked for this.”

You kicked your feet, nearly escaping him before he maneuvered you to have your legs together. This folded you in half, him straddling your legs to keep you in place. He continued teasing you through your underwear, wetting his cock in the process. He’ll admit, he was tempted to stick himself inside you, but he knew better. That’d be giving you what you want, and you wouldn’t get that here. Once they were wet enough, Yunho pushed his tip into your hole. They only let him go an inch or so inside, but that was enough to please him. 

“Yunho!” you cried, “Please put it in.”

“Not until you’ve learned your lesson.”

“You have to do it.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” 

When you tried pushing back into him, he stopped. “What did I tell you?” he slapped the side of your thigh. “Huh? What did I say about staying still?”

“Keep going!”

“What did I say, bitch?” he asked more harshly, “Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Seonghwa!” you called out, and that only made him harder. “Yunho’s being-”

“-Your boyfriend isn’t going to help you,” he said. As much as he didn’t want to, he pulled away from you. “If you’re going to keep being bad, you’re not getting anything now.”

“No!”

“I told you what would happen, and you continued to be disobedient. There’s consequences to bad behavior.”

“San! San, help!”

“Keep calling him, nothing’s going to happen.” He got off the couch, “Maybe I should leave you here to think about your behavior. I’ll come back when you’ve understood it better.”

“Hongjoong will punish you for me. You’ll see,” you spat back, still playing with him, “He’ll whip you for doing this to me.”

“You talk too much,” he sighed irritably, grabbing his handkerchief. He roughly stuffed it into your mouth, “You should learn to keep your mouth shut. Good girls speak when they’re spoken to. Now,” he began putting himself back in his pants, “I’ll be back after lunch. We can continue this then.” 

Right as he planned to leave, someone else walked in. Linette, holding your snack tray, stood in slight shock as she spotted you on the couch. She took in your puffy eyes and guessed what might have happened. 

“Yunho,” she said, her eyes wide, “What are you doing?”

“Mistress YN has been a brat. I’m simply correcting that behavior.”

“You could get into real trouble for this. Mistress, are you okay?” She put her tray down and walked over to you, removing the handkerchief. “I promise Yunho isn’t like this really. He normally asks first or knows if you want it. Please, don’t feed him to Minnie or send him to the greenhouse. He’s been going through a lot lately, and-”

“-Linette, it’s okay,” you sniffled, giggling. “Really.”

“It is?” she asked. “I…Um, okay…Well, let me untie you. Your lunch is-Yunho! What are you doing?”

He sometimes loved his strength. Lifting her from the floor, Yunho placed Linette on the coffee table next to the chaise. On her back, he had full access to her body. The arousal she’d likely been feeling all day flared up at the touch of his hands. His dick hardened even more once her tits were in his hands. 

“What are you doing?” she asked again, laughing softly at his eagerness. 

“I’m going to show our mistress what good girls get,” he said, kissing her neck. 

“Yunho!” Linette giggled, but doing nothing to stop him as he tore at the buttons of her dress.

Soon, he saw the white bra covering her soft breasts. He roughly tugged it down to start sucking and licking her dark nipples. The smooth skin slowly tightened at his tongue, which he moved along with slow swirls. Yunho glanced over to see you watching with a frown, biting your lower lip as the sight kept you going. It felt good. For once, a high born wanted something from him and not the other way around. He kissed further down Linette’s body, feeling her soft stomach and thighs to discover her bare sex inches from his face. 

“No panties,” he growled, kissing her inner thighs as he knelt at the other end. “Such a good girl.” 

“I wanted to make it easier for you,” she said, her back arching when he licked at her clit. “I’ve been wanting your dick in me all morning.” 

“So has your mistress,” he kissed the spot of essence coming out of her. “She’s been teasing me since I woke her up today.” He looked over at you, “Good girls don’t tease. Only bratty girls do, isn’t that right, Linnie?” he went back to licking her folds as she answered. 

“Yes, sir,” she moaned, propping up on her elbows to watch him eat her out. 

“I’m telling my boyfriends what you’re doing,” you said, pouting. “Then they’ll tell you that you have to fuck me.”

“That’ll only be after they’ve each had their turn,” he replied, enjoying Linette’s sweet taste. He chuckled when she squirmed at his rapid flicking. He held her in place as he continued, licking her in swift circles. “Linette never gives me sloppy seconds,” he said, “Not even with Mingi. She lets me have the first round, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” she whimpered, biting her lower lip. “I always fuck you first, sir. I love your cock so much. Please, can I have it now? I’ve been a good girl.” 

“You always are.”

He stood up, pushing her legs far apart and plunged into her. Yunho gazed over at you, and saw you become breathless. In your position, you couldn’t do anything to stimulate your pussy. You could only watch and imagine it being you. Yunho lifted Linette’s legs so you saw his thickness stretching her out. It reminded him of the first time he saw you with someone. It had been with San in his apartment, where he took you on the dining table. Yunho knew then he’d do anything to have you wrapped around him, but you’d belonged to his masters, so you were therefore unattainable. 

Then he looked down at Linette. Panting and whining, she played with her breasts while he thrusted. While sex with you was fueled by your kisses and touches, Linette’s was natural and meaningful. He bent down to capture her lips, opening them to brush on her tongue. His arousal burned deep inside him the longer her walls dragged along his length. She felt so good. You felt equally good. Were it not your punishment, the three of you would be on the couch together. 

“I need you,” he whispered to her, kissing her neck and kneading her tits. “So badly.”

She started pushing down to meet his hips. He stayed still as she tightened her pussy and easily milked him. Euphoria pumped through him like a drug. He started pumping Linette faster, relishing in the sounds she made as he angled himself to hit her g-spot repeatedly. 

“Turn me around,” Linette pleaded, legs resting on his shoulders. “I love it when you fuck me from behind. You go so much deeper that way.”

When Linette guided him back inside, he grabbed her full, round cheeks. She cried out at the sharp smack he gave, and she knew what to do. Hands flat on the table, legs spread apart, she stayed still as he continued his steady pace. He turned to see you watching, slightly squirming as your arousal continued. 

“You see, YN,” he said, “This is what good girls get to have.” He made long, slow strokes that made Linette claw at the table, “They get to have every inch of my dick inside them. No teasing. No edging. Just each inch and every drop of cum I can give them. Doesn’t that sound nice?” He chuckled when you nodded, “So, you'll behave from now on?”

You nodded again. He noticed something crawling in the corner of his eye, and he instantly stopped. “That thing is not fucking you,” he said firmly, despite the Linette’s whining. 

Minnie had slunk to your couch, likely smelling your juices, and wanting to feed from you. It had already made its way up one leg to your center, wriggling a tendril at it. You shivered as the creature’s vines tore off your panties with ease. 

“Minnie, no,” you kicked at it, “Bad girl. No feeding.”

Minnie growled, angry at being denied, but persisted. She strapped herself to your thighs, then slithered a tentacle over your cunt. In your compromised state, you couldn’t reach to rip her from you, so Yunho did it. The beast hissed and tried biting his arm, but he tossed it away before it could do anything else. 

“That’s the first good thing you’ve done since I walked in here,” he said, still pumping into Linette. “Maybe you are learning.” 

“See? I can be good too,” you whimpered. “Can I have it now?”

“Not yet,” he said. He looked down at Linette, “Linnie hasn’t finished yet.” He grabbed both her arms to hold behind her, effectively bouncing her on his cock, “Such a sweet girl,” he grunted, mesmerized by the sight of her ass meeting his hips, “A sweet girl with an even sweeter pussy.” 

“And it’s all yours!”

“All mine?”

“Yes!”

“Good. As it should be.” 

“Please, Yunho,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on. I won’t tease you anymore. I’ll give you my pussy only when you ask. I’ll do whatever you want. Just come fuck my tight, wet pussy, please.” 

“But, I have Linette right here,” he said, slamming into her to prove his point. “And her pussy is the best I’ve ever had.” 

“But mine is good too,” you shook your hips for him to see your glistening sex, “Even if it’s just the tip again. I want it so bad.” 

“Stop whining. You’ll get your turn.” He continued pumping into Linette, watching her ass ripple whenever his hips hit hers. “Linnie was good first. So, she gets it first.” 

“Sir, can I cum, please?” she asked through her whimpering.  

“I don’t know, can you?”

She grunted, almost laughing, “May I cum, sir?” she corrected herself. 

“You may.” 

He loved hearing her orgasms. He drowned you out for a moment to savor the loud moans she released. Her warm cum thickly coated his cock, the tightness clenched as it sucked him into her. Yunho held her to him closely, his fingers working her clit until she finished. After a few more pumps, Yunho went back over to you. With your panties in shreds, he had no trouble plunging inside you. He showed no tenderness with you. If you didn’t moan loud enough, he smacked your ass until he heard you cry again. If you whined or pleaded, he stopped. 

“Do you promise to be a good girl from now on?” he asked you, lifting your head from the couch by your hair. 

“Yes,” you sobbed. 

“Yes?” He started being rougher, tightening his grip and pounding faster. 

“Yes, sir! Yes, yes, yes, sir!”

“That’s a good whore,” he smiled, changing his angle when he heard you getting closer. “That’s it. Make me cum,” he forced your head back onto the bed, “Tighten that hole and milk my cock…There you go. See? That’s not hard, right? You can be good when you really try.” 

He kept going, the sensitivity working through his entire length, and he looked over at Linette. She’d remained on the coffee table, on her back with her legs spread. Yunho’s jaw dropped seeing her so exposed, biting her lower lip and teasing her nipples. This offering couldn’t be ignored. Once he felt your orgasm approaching, he pushed deeper. 

“I know you’re not cumming before me,” he growled, slowing his pace. “Good girls don’t cum without permission. I thought Master Hongjoong might’ve taught you that.” 

“I ca-an’t help it,” you cried, “It feels so good.”

“Then you better learn how to help it,” he said, going back to his previous pace. “Because you’re not getting a drop of cum if you do. You want my cum, don’t you? I know you love cum.”

“I do, but…oh my god, fuck, that feels…”

“Don’t do it,” he warned, but not slowing down. “Don’t you dare…”

“Fuck, I’m so close! I can’t stop it! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

Thighs shaking, fingers gripping the tie around your wrists, you couldn’t stop the waves coming over you. Yunho felt your sex tightening, milking him as he pumped in and out of you. His cock became coated in you, the movement making your juices thicker and whiter, and he thought he might cum from seeing it. Yet, he kept himself in check as you finished shuddering. In a few final twitches, you slumped against the back of the chaise and took deep breaths. 

“Yunho,” you breathed when he pulled out, “Cum in me.”

“Good girls don’t get my cum…” 

Linette came over to him when he sat on the edge of the couch. She didn’t need to be told what to do. Mouth on his tip, she sucked and licked while stroking his length with both hands. The twisting motions combined with her lips brought him to climax in seconds. She moaned at the thick streams filling her mouth, slurping and swallowing them greedily. Linette never left a single drop behind. Yunho’s hands curled around the edge of the couch, his knuckles turning white as his body tensed. Her mouth and hands elongated the sensitivity coursing through his shaft and tip; he groaned through his teeth, jaw clenching and hips thrusting up into her. When he finished, he took in how beautiful she looked. 

“Show me,” he said, and grinned when she opened to show her empty mouth. “Good girl.” 

Gently, he untied you and let you uncurl from your position. He took you to the bed where he rubbed your stiff muscles and bottom with a healing salve he kept on hand. As he smoothed the aloe-concentrated paste on you, he muttered sweet praises and soft kisses to soothe you. You gradually fell asleep in his arms after being stuffed by your snack tray. Finally leaving you to rest, Linette cornered him outside the bedroom. 

“I really enjoyed that,” she whispered, arms going around his torso, “I think I like hard Yunho. He makes me a bit scared and extremely horny.” 

“Does he now?” he smirked, holding and kissing her softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A thought came to him, “Let’s go to my room. I’m exhausted.”

“What about lunch service?”

“Cook will manage it for me,” he took her hand in his. Going to a large portrait in the corner, he revealed the secret passage behind it. “I just want to be with you right now.” 

Her smile made his heart flutter and he kissed her again. An afternoon wrapped in his favorite person sounded so much nicer than tending to a bunch of high borns. 

They could make do without him. 

****

A/N: Aaaaand it's back! Sort of haha I really like Yunho and Linette, so I hope you guys do too. Feel free to reblog and like <3

[chenlezip]

secret admirer | woozi x reader .

⤷ summary: can i req a woozi fic? one where he writes little love songs and poems and y/n also writes them and they put love letters in eachother’s lockers BUTT its anonymous so they reject eachother without knowing its eachother :)!!

annas note: @jjjjeonww finally got around to writing this out for you, i’m so sorry it took me so long! 😖🤍 i hope i did it justice, thank you for writing chenle for me! (i’ll write out the mark request too!) i made a happy ending.. sort of..?

it’s the end of the school day and woozi is exhausted. he head to his locker, opening it and seeing something like a letter falling out of it. he bent down and picked it up, ‘to woozi’ it read with a small heart beside his name. what the hell? he questioned himself, who would do this? could it be someone he knew or not?

he shrugged it off for now, picking it up and hiding it in his blazer pocket as he grabbed his bag from the locker. he slammed it shut before feeling someone throw an arm over his shoulder, his best friend hoshi. “ji hoon~ how’s it going?” he asked and woozi just smiled, “it’s been a tiring day.”

once he’s back home and by himself in the comfort of his room, he opened the letter and read it.

‘your music reminds me of the sky before it rains— soft, melancholic, and utterly beautiful. i hope you never stop creating. it brings me great joy when i walk past the music room.’

but what intrigued him more was that there was no name on the bottom of the letter, just a small ‘yours, secret admirer.’

now, it’s your turn to find a letter in your locker. you just arrived at school and notice something just poking out of it. you take it out and smile, opening it up and reading the words on the paper, raw and unfiltered.

‘your words make me feel like i’m standing in the middle of my favourite song, you have such a way with them. and that’s quite rare.’

your heart pounded in your chest, oh my god.. this was the sweetest thing you’ve ever received in your life. you hid the letter in your notebook and head to class, rethinking the words over and over in your head.

it’s lunchtime. you’re eating together with woozi and his friends, laughing and having a great time. suddenly, someone mentions the fact that you both have received a secret letter from an admirer. you blush, “ah- it’s probably someone messaging around, right? i mean-“

woozi, on the other hand, noticed your reaction and his heart nearly dropped. messing around? he sighed, “yeah probably aha, i mean, who writes things like these nowadays?” now it was your turn for your heart to drop. thoughts were running through both your minds - is this really what they think? maybe i shouldn’t have wrote that letter now..

well, it soon comes out that woozi knows it’s you who wrote his letter. yeah.. he didn’t mean to snoop but he did notice the familiar writing poking out from your notebook that was on your desk in english class. luckily, you were asleep, head on the desk so he could take a closer look. he leaned in, slowly pulling it out and his eyes widened.

“you’re my secret admirer..” he whispered in a low tone. he smiled to himself and backed away, he had a plan. he was just going to write you a letter so you knew it was him, he didn’t care anymore, he wanted you to know.

and so, there he is in the back of the class, quickly writing out something small in his letter and quickly shoving it in your locker before the end of the day.

when you open it, you see it and you open it up, a gasp escaping from your lips as you see the name on the bottom.

‘i think we’ve been writing to each other for so long without really saying anything. let’s fix that, shall we? meet me after school— if you want this to be real.

lee jihoon.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

This fulfills both my BuckTommy agenda and my Chimney and Tommy are besties agenda. It's Fluffebruary Day Eleven: Double Date! Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary, and you can read this on AO3 over here.

It’s Howie who suggests he and Tommy take their Buckleys out together, and Tommy is happy to go along with it. He and Howie have been occasionally meeting up for a beer or coffee ever since the cruise ship rescue, and they’re currently sitting next to a playground while Jee-Yun goes down the same slide over and over. She lands about four feet from them and waves every time until she runs back to carefully climb the steps back up.

“What are you thinking?” Tommy asks, swirling the last of his coffee in its paper cup to mix it before taking a swig.

“LA County Fair is coming up. You ever go?”

Tommy snorts softly and nods. “Yeah, with Ben.”

“Yeah, fuck that, we’re making new memories,” Howie says, making a face. He’d heard about Tommy’s last serious relationship in all its toxic glory after he’d cornered Tommy in a CVS to ask why the hell he’d been ducking Howie since his and Evan’s (thankfully temporary, then current) break-up. “Just do not tell my daughter, because we’re taking her in a couple weeks and she’s gotta think it’s the first time or she’ll look at me with big, sad eyes.”

“I’ll take it to my grave,” Tommy vows solemnly, and Howie claps him on the shoulder.

They settle back and watch Jee-Yun, happily taking compliments from a couple of other parents and nannies on how sweet their daughter is.

“Yep, we love her, she’s our little angel,” Howie says, putting an arm around Tommy’s shoulders and squeezing.

“Absolutely,” Tommy agrees readily, squeezing Howie’s knee. “Been that way since the day we brought her home.”

“Uncle Tommy!” she shouts, running full-tilt toward them and catching herself on his knees. “Swing?”

“Swing,” he confirms, scooping her up and messily kissing her cheek as she squeals with laughter. “Let’s see if we can get you to go all the way around in a big circle.”

Howie jumps to his feet. “Let’s not do that.”

Tommy turns his own big, sad eyes on Howie as he backs toward the playground. “But Da-ad.”

“Tommaso Gianni, you better not break my daughter.”

Jee-Yun gasps and looks at Tommy. “Uh-oh.”

“First and middle name? I know,” he says gravely. “Okay, we’ll carefully swing.”

She pouts and throws her arms around Tommy’s neck. “Oka-ay.”

He happily pushes her on the swing until Maddie shows up with Evan, both of them having had lunch with their parents. Tommy bites back a grin when he sees the confusion on the faces of the people who’d approached him and Howie as Maddie greets her husband with a kiss.

Evan walks over and waves. “Hey, guys!”

“Uncle Buck!” Jee-Yun shrieks, and Tommy barely has time to catch the chains of the swing to stop it before she launches herself off of it to run to Evan’s waiting arms. He picks her up and kisses her cheeks before settling her on his hip.

He’s listening to her recap about the caterpillar she found when they’d arrived and asking her questions about what it looked like and is in the middle of telling her what kind of moth it’ll probably turn into as he reaches Tommy.

“Hey,” he says, kissing him on the corner of his mouth. “We swinging?”

“Yep, but we’ve been restricted to safe swinging,” Tommy says, and Evan makes a face. “Right? Howie doesn’t know that this girl’s ready to fly.”

“Alright,” Evan says to a captivated Jee-Yun, sitting on the swing. “Here’s how we’re going to do this. You’re gonna hold on real right, okay? And then Uncle Tommy is gonna push as hard as he can.”

She nods and wraps her arms around Evan, and he holds the chain of the swing with one hand and wraps his other arm around her. When he’s settled in, he backs up until he’s almost standing up straight.

“Alright, launching in five, four, three, two, one!”

With that, he pushes off, and Tommy grins when she shrieks with laughter. He pushes them carefully, not wanting to risk Evan losing his grip, but Evan’s pumping his legs to build up a little more height.

“So are you guys poly or—”

The question catches him off-guard, and he looks sheepishly at the nanny who’d been talking to him and Howie earlier.

“No, that’s my boyfriend’s brother-in-law,” he explains. “We were, uh, just messing with people.”

She snorts and shifts the toddler she’s carrying to her other hip. “You guys are going to be the talk of the playground for a couple days. Please don’t clear things up with anyone else, I live for this kind of thing.”

“Uncle Tommy is slacking!” Evan calls over his shoulder.

“Uncle Evan can chill,” Tommy says, stepping back into position.

When they’re ready to hop off, Evan dramatically “jumps” as the swing is coming to a stop, and Maddie comes over to offer her daughter a bag of pretzel chips and some water.

“What’s this I hear about a double date?” she asks, plucking two pretzel chips out of the bag and handing one to each of them.

“Yep,” Tommy says, popping the snack into his mouth. “Tomorrow, actually. Details to follow.”

He gives a meaningful glance down to Jee-Yun, who’s looking up at them as she sips her water. Later, when they’re in Evan’s Jeep and away from little ears, Tommy asks him how he feels about the fair.

“Oh, man, I am so winning you a bear,” Evan says, grinning.

“Uh, I think I’m going to be winning a bear for you.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I’m one half of the organizing party, it’s my responsibility—”

“To buy me a funnel cake and hold my hand on—actually, no, no ferris wheel.”

Tommy shudders. “Yeah, nothing that, uh, leaves the ground.”

They bicker about who’s responsible for winning stuffed animals for who all the way back to the loft.

–

His last trip to the fair really had been a disaster. Ben had complained about the price of food, Tommy had ignored every attempt at initiating conversation about them attending Ben’s high school reunion, and they’d ended the night in silence and with headaches.

This time, Maddie is six months pregnant and devouring every bit of fair food she can get her hands on, Howie has had three different face painting artists have a go at him and now looks like Spider-Man/Darth Maul/a butterfly depending on which third of his face you’re looking at, and Evan is carrying a stuffed puppy under one arm and has a weird monkey puppet looped around his neck. Tommy has a pink bear the size of Jee-Yun under his arm, and he feels like he’s going to be sick if he eats anything else that’s been fried.

“Alright, funhouse, funhouse, funhouse,” Evan chants.

“Absolutely not,” Maddie says around a fried Oreo. “But you guys enjoy yourselves.”

They hand off their stuffed prizes to Maddie and Howie and run into the funhouse. It’s very old and mostly full of spinning platforms and moving walkways and some mirrors, and Evan has them stop and take a picture in every single one. After, they spot the haunted house and manage to entice Howie and Maddie into joining them on that one because it involves sitting down.

It’s so much goddamn fun. Howie and Tommy hang back while Maddie and Evan try to do a game that involves rubber ducks, both of them sipping on overpriced beer.

“You know, Maddie told me they never went to a fair when they were kids,” Howie says. “Danny was too sick, then everything after. Isn’t that wild?”

Tommy knows he means that it’s something else and nods. “Means we should probably take them every year to make up for it.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

They clink their plastic cups together and exchange grins.

“State fair up in Sac when the kids are old enough,” Howie decides. “Or if we can get a babysitter for the weekend.”

“I know a cheap pilot.”

“Oh, don’t call yourself that, honey,” Howie coos, pinching his cheek.

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend,” Evan says, pressing a small, squishy dinosaur against Tommy’s chest. “Your move, Kinard.”

Maddie hands a Minion dressed like a pirate to Howie. “Meet your son.”

“Howard, Jr,” he sighs, petting its goggled eye happily. “Who wants to go scare the shit out of the person running that thing where you swing a hammer to hit a bell? I’m pretty sure they’ll cry when they see these two muscle-bound freaks.”

By the end of the night, they’re tired and all leaning against each other and carrying more stuffed animals than any four adults should ever own. The big, floppy elephant that Evan is hauling is Tommy’s personal favorite. He also has a tote bag over each shoulder with crafts, trinkets, snacks, and random spice and tea blends from vendors.

“We should do a Ren Faire,” Evan suggests.

“Oh, my god, Jee as a little squire or a princess,” Maddie whines, burying her face in her stuffed shark. “Honey, please.”

“Yeah, alright,” Howie says, leaning in to kiss her hair. She’s already got grease paint smudged on it and her face from him, so she’d stopped batting him away hours ago.

They get to Howie and Maddie’s car, since paying for parking twice had sounded like a terrible idea, and they get a ride back to Tommy’s house.

“We’re the fucking kings of double dates,” Howie says, reaching back to bump Tommy’s fist before they get out of the car. “But maybe just dinner and a movie next time.”

“Go big or go home, Han.” He swoops in for a kiss to Maddie’s cheek and climbs out of the back seat, joining Evan in gathering their prizes from the back of the car. “Alright, let’s get them settled into the guest room.”

They arrange their prizes on the bed and Tommy takes a picture of the frankly ridiculous army they amassed, though there’s one more soldier on his side than Evan’s thanks to that game where you shoot water into a hole to win a horse race. They’d been so close to winning a bear as big as Maddie, but he’s a little glad they didn’t. He doesn’t even know where he’s going to keep all of these and imagines the toy drive will be getting a sizable stuffed toy donation once he lets their friends’ kids pick out a favorite to adopt.

The elephant and bear are staying with them, though.

[katiebuggg]

You really got a hold on me

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teddy boy John x reader fic!

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this is my first ever tumblr post so I'll be posting here until my ao3 account gets approved LOL If you guys like this fic I'll write chapter 2 and have it up by tmrw. enjoy!

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It’s early morning, February 1960, in Liverpool. In the silence of the night before, a quiet dusting of snow had fallen onto the still-sleeping city. The crisp air bites at Y/N’s nose as she hustles through the streets. Clutching a mess of papers to her chest, Y/N briefly glances down at her Sultana watch. Its face is small, and the band is a braided leather adorned with gold hardware. It was her first big purchase with the money she had earned herself—at the job she is now extremely late for.

“Shit!” she panics to herself as she quickens her pace, her heeled boots kicking up light snow as she dashes around one corner, then the next. Her heavy tote slides down her shoulder with every brisk step, making it difficult to keep the papers hugged to her fur-lined coat while simultaneously pulling up the bag’s slipping strap.

Finally, fifteen minutes late, Y/N tugs at the cold iron door handle of the building where she works. Her job at the local newspaper isn’t glamorous, but it keeps the lights on and puts her brand-new communications degree to use. She flashes a sheepish grin at the woman at the front desk—her friend Nancy. Nancy blinks back through her false eyelashes, unamused. She’s only a year older than Y/N but is quick-witted, sharp, and, most importantly, beautiful. Naturally, she worked her way up to the front desk swiftly. Her long, pin-straight black hair is pulled tightly into a French bun, and she wears a dark grey boxy dress with a thin white cardigan over top.

“Second time you’ve been late this month, Y/N. If the early morning stories are too difficult, you should consider taking more late-night ones,” Nancy says coolly as the phone rings on her desk.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Y/N groans, ignoring the comment about a schedule change.

Nancy pulls the phone to her ear and waves a dismissive hand at Y/N, who rolls her eyes before striding over to the elevator. She urgently presses the button for the seventh floor and slides in as soon as the doors open. The stale, damp smell of the office building elevator clings to her cold nose as she scans over the headlines of the stories in her hands: a section on local politics, sporting news from the weekend, and an advertisement for a hotel beneath them. Y/N exhales a puff of frustration as the elevator dings and opens onto her floor, where the loud chatter of typewriters fills the office.

She plops down into her wooden chair, placing the stack of papers on her desk before shimmying off her coat. Her job here is simple—look over the papers for errors, then pass the stories up to the publishing and printing department. Despite the simplicity of her work, she stays busy, tirelessly sifting through the news from one dull article to the next. Nothing ever really catches her eye or piques her interest. Y/N is considerably younger than most of her coworkers, except for Nancy, whom she keeps close. She wrapped up university quickly to jump-start her career, which she had imagined would be far more glamorous than this. Despite her disillusionment, she grabs a fountain pen from the cup of stationery on her desk and begins to review the stories carefully.

As the morning hours tick by, Y/N sifts through story after story, paper after paper, circling errors and drinking a generous amount of coffee. When the clock strikes noon and the church bell chimes from around the corner, she gathers her things for lunch and lugs her way downstairs to meet Nancy.

“Jesus,” Nancy chuckles dryly, wrapping a scarf around her neck and tugging on her gloves. “You look dead.”

Y/N groans in response, rubbing her eyes, her coat wrapped warmly around her.

“It’s been a relentless week… seriously,” Y/N mutters.

Nancy pulls her small purse onto her shoulder and links arms with Y/N as they step out of the building to grab lunch at their favorite café across the street. The bitter winter air stings their faces as cars whizz by, splashing slushy snow onto the wet pavement.

“You should tag along with me to the club tonight,” Nancy chirps as they cross the street.

“Are you kidding me? I’ll be knackered,” Y/N protests, still arm-in-arm with her friend.

“Oh, come on! It’s Friday, Y/N—live a little.” Nancy bumps her hip against Y/N’s, who rolls her eyes dramatically, letting her head fall back for added effect. Nancy chuckles.

“Fine, fine… but if I miss a story, it’ll be your head on the stake, not mine.”

The girls step into the warm, bustling café and slip into a cracked vinyl booth before continuing their lively chatter. Across the way, sipping steaming hot tea and sucking on cigarettes, sit two boys. One wears deep blue jeans and biker boots, while the other dons a pair of black slacks and saddle shoes. Both, however, wear thick, worn leather jackets over warm jumpers. They jabber loudly, smoke spilling from their smiling lips, curling around their booth in soft plumes.

Nancy notices them first and huffs. “Right, because the first thing you want to hear in a café is two teddies gobbin’ off,” she scoffs. “Give me a break.”

Her tone is loud and annoyed—no doubt meant for the boys to hear.

Y/N groans, covering her face with a menu. Since they met, Nancy has been known for her short temper and strong opinions. Y/N loves her for both of these things—one more than the other—but sometimes, it costs her sanity in public.

“Nancy… please,” Y/N warns through gritted teeth, giving her friend a pleading look.

Nancy ignores her, keeping her judgmental gaze fixed on the duo.

The boy in slacks turns his head toward them, meeting Nancy’s eyes for a split second before giving them both a once-over. He chuckles dryly, his eyes lingering lazily on Y/N a second longer before glancing back at his friend. He nudges him under the table and whispers something over his tea, making the other boy glance over as well. The one in jeans murmurs something back, and they both snicker. The sounds of other café patrons and kitchen clatter mask their quiet exchange.

Y/N can feel Nancy start to boil over, noticing her eyes haven’t moved an inch off the rowdy boys.

“Please, for my sake, do not—”

Before Y/N can finish her sentence, Nancy has already popped out of the booth and is storming over to the teddies.

Y/N groans and slides out after her.

“Oh-ho-ho! Here she comes!” the boy in slacks announces as Nancy furiously approaches. His auburn-brown hair matches his deep eyes, and a foxy grin spreads across his face. He holds up his hands in mock surrender, a cigarette pinched between two fingers of his right hand.

“Nobody in here wants to hear you two causing a racket,” Nancy announces, arms crossed in front of her chest, glaring down at the men with her famously unamused expression.

Y/N catches up behind her, eyebrows raised, her face pink with embarrassment. She shoots the boy in jeans a remorseful smile and pats Nancy on the shoulder, signaling it’s time to go.

“She doesn’t seem too bothered,” the boy in slacks says slyly, looking around Nancy to meet Y/N’s eyes. He flashes her a toothy grin.

“I’m John. Who—”

“No one gives a shit who you are. You lot are a bunch of bloody gobshites, anyway,” Nancy interrupts before turning on her heel, grabbing Y/N by the wrist, and dragging her toward the door.

“I’m Paul!” the other boy shouts in a pestering manner, followed by an eruption of laughter from both of them.

“Oh, piss off!” Nancy yells back before yanking Y/N outside, back into the cold streets of Liverpool.

[bybobbysbeard]

Changes to the Layout

Day 9 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: moving in together read on ao3 read other days here

Tommy straightens up from his lean, rolling his neck until it cracks with a satisfying pop. He looks down at the graph paper in front of him. Another line sketched here, a shelf added there, one more cabinet drawn in. The scritch-scratch of graphite on paper is the only sound in the kitchen. 

If he gets bench seating for the far side of the dining table, he can move the whole thing closer to the wall. That will give him the square footage he needs to fit a pair of bar stools under the island overhang. He eyeballs the rough layout, thinking about egress routes, the existing water lines and junction boxes. He adds those to the drawing too. There’s still a lot of details to be determined, but that’s kind of the point of this whole exercise. 

He puts his pencil down as he hears the garage rumble open.

A few minutes later, Evan enters the house through the man door, toeing off his sneakers, and already talking a mile a minute. His overnight bag lands in the foyer with a thud. Evan fills the previously quiet house with chatter, spilling every thought that crosses his big, beautiful brain. Tommy lets that beloved voice wrap around him like a security blanket. He’s so open and welcoming, inviting Tommy to experience life with him without a second thought.

Tommy’s never met anyone like him.

He gets a rundown of today's calls, the incomprehensible memes Chris sent, and Evan’s thoughts on a Smithsonian article about one of the lost Lewis Chessmen he read over lunch. It’s a data dump of the best variety. Tommy knows he’s probably got a dumb smile on his face. 

“—and it’s the first of the missing pieces to show up, so that means there’s a chance the other four are out there! Isn’t that cool?”

“Very cool, sweetheart.”

Evan finally steps close, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and plastering himself along Tommy’s side. One of his arms wraps around Tommy’s waist, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. He looks down at the papers on the counter. “What’s this? Got a new project?”

Tommy takes a controlled breath. He rests a hand casually on his own thigh, over his pocket. He can feel the little metal shape through the denim. “Sort of.” He slides the sketch over to Evan. “What do you think?”

Evan flips through the pages, humming thoughtfully. “You want to renovate the kitchen? Wow. Would be a big job, but you've got the space. This layout looks great.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“It’s been a while since I did construction work, but I could help with the tear out if you need.” Evan looks up and down from the sketch to the existing cabinets, already imagining the new setup. 

“I was hoping you’d be interested in doing a little more than just demolition.” 

Evan tilts his head, adorably confused. “What do you mean?”

Tommy’s fingers clench on his leg. “Well this is just the basics. There’s a lot of decisions to be made. Materials, styles, colors. I’m hoping you’ll choose them.”

“M-me? Why would I make the decisions?”

“Because. I want this to be your kitchen, Evan.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls the key out, and sets it down on the counter with a quiet sound. “Move in with me.”

Evan jerks back in shock. Tommy’s waist feels cold without his arm. Wide blue eyes dart down to the key and Tommy sees his hand clench, like he wants to reach out and grab it. Maybe throw it across the room. 

Tommy knows the damage he did to their relationship the last time this conversation came up. But it’s been five months since they reconciled, and they’re different. Better. More authentic with each other. He wanted to talk about this before they hit half a year again, when there was less pressure for a repeat of last time. He’s been more honest with Evan than he’s ever been in his entire life. About his fears, his guilt, his shame. Evan loves him anyway; so Tommy is learning how to stay. In turn, Evan is learning how to slow down, and how to talk about the things that send him spiraling. 

It’s been good. Great, even. The best relationship he’s ever had, even when it’s difficult. 

“I love you. I want you here all the time. I want to make a home with you. And before the voice in your head tries to convince you otherwise: you’re never too much for me, I won’t get sick of you, and if you want to say no, or you need time to think, that’s fine and I won’t be mad.”

“I… I’m not…” He’s still staring at the key. 

Tommy nudges it towards him. “I know you already have the garage code, but I want you to have this too. No matter what you decide.” A shaky hand reaches out and lays on top of the key.

Evan finally looks up. His eyes are big and shiny. Tommy holds the eye contact. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles helplessly. “Also, I’m tired of tripping over your overnight bag every morning.”

“Rude.” Evan snorts. “You’re the one who told me to keep it by the closet.” His hand curls around the key.

Tommy reaches out, reeling Evan in and tucking him close. “It’s okay if you’re not ready. We’re going at our pace now. Or we can talk about it some more. But I figured it was my turn to ask.” 

“Yes.”

Tommy lifts a quizzical eyebrow. “Yes, it was my turn to ask, or yes, you’ll move in with me?” 

Evan chortles, a sweet little sound, and presses into Tommy's side. “Both! But mostly the second one. Why be apart when we can be together, right?” His hand lands on Tommy’s jaw, and then they’re kissing, sweet and hot. Tommy pivots, pulling Evan in front, pinning him against the countertop, and kissing the breath out of lungs. His hands find bare skin and he’s busy tracing the waistband of Evan’s jeans when his boyfriend pulls away. 

“Hold on, just for a minute. There is something I want to talk about. And before your brain gremlins get involved: I’m not changing my mind, I don’t need more time to think about it, and I love you more than anything. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, onto the thing we actually need to discuss. If this is going to be my kitchen, I have a few proposed changes to your layout. For starters, I can’t go back to a single oven, so double wall ovens are a necessity. I think it could go here.” He scribbles two rough squares where Tommy had the pantry going. “And have you seen those ceiling mounted exhaust fans? I think there would be space on your island but I’d have to do some research on different models. That would free up this section for the coffee bar.”

“Coffee bar?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve always wanted one.”

[feinyan]

I need more Damon's boyfriend text....or whatever. anything, I'm starving for a Damon content 😭😭

ROMANCE TROPE featuring. damon maitsu, kai monteago and wolfgang akire

more below the cut .. no texts but this has damon so.

# damon maitsu

hear me out on .. sort of enemies to lovers with the ultimate debater himself ?? damon and you who bicker constantly, always comparing and teasing amongst yourselves.

i can see damon thinking of you as someone lower than him, someone whose time shouldnt occupy his own oh-so important time. i mean, he has soooo much more important things to focus on. but eugh, your conflicts, your constant bickering, led to … weird, thrilling feelings, something that led to wanting more. this need grew overwhelmingly frustrating, which interrupted his thoughts. his mind could no longer find itself hyper focused on debating and studying despite his best attempts, because now, he always found that you were somewhere in the back of his mind. small reminders of you would spark a disruption within his head, one that led him to feel a hot, annoyed feeling in his chest.

pushing the tip of your finger into his shirt, you tilted your head to the side, a smug grin tugging at your lips.

“oh! would you look at that. what happened to your cocky attitude? not so confident now huh, mr debater?” you’d hummed, a sheet of paper firmly held within your fingers, waving it back and forth in front of his eyes. he’d narrowed his eyes in exchange, gaze flickering between your own and the wall behind you.

a huff escaping his lips, he’d finally regained his composure, his flustered face cooled down at least a little. “.. oh shut up, you managed to finally get a grade higher than me, congrats.” his muttering was sarcastic, clasping his fingers around your wrists and pulling them away from himself.

“for once? im pretty sure last exam i—“

“.. yeah yeah, that’s enough from you.” he’d interrupted, letting go of your wrists and instead throwing a hand over your mouth to prevent your sentence from being finished. with a muffled protest, you raised an arm to tug at the hand covering your lips with a struggle. damon couldn’t help but snicker at this, eyes making contact with your own helpless ones. finally managing to pull his hand away, you took a step back, annoyance apparent in your face.

turning around, prepared to make your way to your next class, you paused in place for a moment. “start focusing on your grades more, you’ve been lazy recently.”

a sigh from damon could be heard from behind you, accompanied by the shuffling of his pants. probably him putting his hands in his pockets. with a grumble, he responded. “it was by 4%. i’ve been busy with other things.”

“hmm, do you need encouragement? let me think,”

he remained quiet.

“if you get a higher grade than me on the next assignment, you can take me out on a date.”

“… the- huh? the hell?” he stammered, for a second, he was almost certain he’d heard wrong. but when you only replied with a giggle, beginning to make your way through the hallway, your words were surely made clear. gross. he didn’t know how that made him feel, yet a hot feeling began to consume his insides at the thought you’d offered into his mind, one that tugged at his heart — a feeling he disliked. one that pissed him off. he’d remained quiet in place, mouth slightly hung open as he watched you skip off all innocently. yet the pounding in both his chest and head was one that he couldn’t stay quiet about.

“you idiot .. y/n, wait up.”

# kai monteago

kai is the biggest secret dating troupe ever .. do you hear me. hello. guys. please hello!!!

kai — who shouldn’t have a partner to begin with. his fans are .. pretty obsessive to say the least, and getting a partner would totally make him lose popularity! therefor, when he met you, despite how desperately he wanted to show you off to the world, he was pestered until he finally agreed to keep it silent. his conflicting feelings though, were ones he never shut up about.

“… kaaaai,” you muttered, stretching out your body in attempts to free yourself from his tight grasp. it didn’t work. he clung to you harder, wet lips pressing against your cheek and lips time after time. this drew a giggle from your lips, turning your head to the side so you’d have the opportunity to speak.

though, kai spoke first.

“babyyyyy! i couldn’t kiss you aaaall day! let me have this!” a dramatic whine arose from him, burying his head into the crook of your neck with a huff. a sigh left your throat as you placed your head atop his own, rubbing his back with your hand.

“.. you’re such a baby, kai.”

# wolfgang akire

im not really sure but maybe arranged marriage ?? the idea of the uncomfortable, awkward feeling of marrying someone who you don’t know, yet wolfgangs display of kindness and tender actions despite the situation slowly causing you two to form a sweet bond. things like cooking you breakfast every morning no matter how early he’d have to wake up, buying you little gifts and treating you even though he doesnt need to.

sitting across from wolfgang, you kept your eyes on the food. an awkward silence always lingered whenever the two of you shared a meal together, yet slowly but surely, its been getting lighter.

“did you enjoy the breakfast id made you this morning?” his words came off in a gentle tone, interrupting the silence between the two of you. lifting your head, your eyes immediately met his eyes. eyes that were already staring at your own, and had probably been for awhile now.

taking a moment to respond, you nodded with a smile. “yeah, thank you, i really like strawberries.” you’d hummed a cheery response. he gave a smile in exchange to your last comment.

“is that so? i’ll try to include them in more of your meals then.”

a kind offer, but you shook your head. “.. ah, you don’t have to make me meals. you wake up really early for it. i do appreciate it a lot but—“

he cut you off with a shake of his own head.

“no need, you’re my spouse, its the least i could do.”

@ feinyan

[mkeyztrm]

“ Valentine ”

It’s Valentine’s Day with your boyfriend, Chris. You’ve spent this day together before countless amounts of times. Today feels extra special to you, though. You feel like you should make your day even better, for the both of you. Especially Chris, you wanna make sure it’s extra special for Chris so he knows just how much you love him.

It’s February 14th, your sweet boyfriend’s out shooting a car video with his brothers in some empty parking lot, he promised he’d be home before it got too late. While he’s out you’ve decided this would be the perfect time to start putting his surprise together. It’s 7:30 pm, and your hope is to be finished by 9:00 - 9:30 PM.

You start this project by running to the store to grab supplies. You refer to your shopping list;

——————————

- rose petals

- two bottles of pepsi

- glitter.

- red and pink construction paper

——————————

that should be all you need.

as you get home and get settled, you get everything out and get started on the actual project.

dragging out rose petals and laying them in specific spots, creating a walk way that starts from the front door to his bedroom. You already had fake battery powered candles from last year, so you reuse those candles by lining them up with the petals to add a little character. Along the rose petal walkway, you take yourself to his bedroom where you cut your construction paper into hearts. Each heart you cut out, you write a little “I love you so much, here’s one thing I love about you—”. You lay some hearts out on the bed, and spread the rest around the room.

Before you’re finished you toss some glitter on the rose filled areas, and you lay your pepsi’s on the bed.

“y/n, we’re home!” You hear Chris shout from downstairs. You hear his footsteps stop and hear Nick commenting on the rose trail.

Both of you smiling widely, you ran down to meet Chris, Matt and Nick at the door. You grab Chris by his hand, and take him through the trail, giggling with each footstep.

As you make it to his room, you can’t help but do a little excited strut inside.

“Ta-da!!!! Happy Valentine’s Day, Chris!” You exclaim in joy. He grabs you and gently pulls your waist at him, giving you a little smile filled kiss so show his appreciation.

After he’s finished thanking you and flexing to his brothers that he has the best girlfriend ever, you two sit down on his bed and watch movies together until you both passed out on top of each other.

now you have to figure out how you’re gonna clean up all the glitter.

——————

hi gangie I still don’t really know how to write good so sorry if this is buns 😭 i haven’t wrote in a while and thought it’d be fun to do something for valentines days.

[loveandleases]

Since we do not have our sweet puppies to pet our stress away, how would the ROs feel about MC wanting to comb through the ROs hair with their fingers?

Well, for those who choose to, Angela is ready for a few pets. Below the cut~

❤️ Cam - That is probably one of his favorite things to have MC do. (you'll see mention of it.) It just helps calm him, when he was younger and sick, Aunt Em would do it whenever he struggled to sleep. Ever want to calm down an angry Cam, just massage his scalp for him,

twist some strands of hair around your finger. He's all putty after that. Granted, with MC, there is an added intimacy; it changes things a bit, and you better believe once they try to move their hand, Cam is grabbing and whining for them not to stop.

💙 G - They would have let MC play with it before when they were elbow-deep in term papers and more assignments than they had time for. It would break that little spell they put themselves under when studying. They would wonder if it feels different because G has changed their hair over the years. They get a bit embarrassed about how much they enjoy it. Pretend they don't want MC to do it, only to end up resting their head in their lap and nudging their hand. "Why are you rubbing me like I'm a cat?" They ask brow arched as they eye MC. And the moment MC moves their hand, G grabs their wrist, making them rub once more. "I didn't say to stop."

💚 Kara - Very dependent on the state of her hair. Suppose it's freshly styled, no way. "No can do, sweetheart." But if it's when they're alone and hanging out, she would ask MC to braid it. Even willing to teach them if they don't know how. She would even try to get MC to help put in her hair oils or leave-in-conditioner when she's fresh from the shower. It's new to her, that sort of intimacy, and far more soothing than she ever thought it could be.

💛 M - They're completely still, no idea what to do. No one has ever played with their hair. Is it supposed to feel this good? Is it weird that it does? They're thinking it all over in their head and only really calm down when MC asks if they prefer they stop. "Fuck, no-," M blurts out, clamping a hand to their mouth and cheeks tinted over with color. They'd try to move some of their hair so that it can help cover their eyes so they don't get caught staring at how nice MC looks. Only to find they end up saying it instead.

💜 Isaac - "If you wanted to touch me that bad, all you needed to do was ask?" They try to change the subject, instead offering to rub MC's head. Isaac likes it, and they do. But the last person they let do that… well, remembering that level of intimacy and what happened after leaves a bad taste in their mouth. Once Isaac begins to warm up and stop hiding behind all that flirting, when they realize how much they can trust MC (and care), Isaac will like it. Isaac would even ask why MC isn't massaging his scalp when they're cuddling.

🖤 Ardent—So, this can go two ways. Either it's calming and enough to make him wrap his arms around MC's waist and hold them tight until he's asleep, or… if MC is applying more pressure, maybe raking his nails along his scalp and pulling slightly, that changes things. "C'mon, I know you can tug harder than that."

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Adam doesn't know how Lucifer did this every night, check all windows to be sure they are locked, check front and back door for being locked and then make sure the security system was working.

And if he leaves the house for any reason, do it all again. But this was only something he did at night.

Adam liked the guest room, surprised a little that Lucifer even had one but maybe it was just to fill the room. The bed was so comfortable, he practically melted into the bed.

When morning came Adam felt so good, that bed did wonders for him. Going down he nearly started to laugh a little, he's never seen Lucifer with his hair messed up sticking out at odd angles and some drool dripping down his chin.

Poor guy must have really needed the sleep. But something about him looking like that endeared him even more to Adam.

Cute.

Lucifer started to wake up, he felt so good when he opened his eyes he was confused as to why he was in the living room.

Oh yeah. Broken leg.

Not his first one but still. He's lost track of how many things he's broken......

Adam: Morning Lu!

Normally he'd panic, but seeing Adam standing there in pajamas, hair messed up and a wide grin on his face made him stay calm and his heart fluttered at the sight of him.

He stayed.

Lucifer smiled: Good morning Adam, did you sleep okay?

Adam: Best fucking sleep ever! Okay, so how do you normally start your mornings?

Lucifer: Well..... Normally I'd just, make my bed, clean myself up and then eat.

Adam: Okay sounds good!

He brought Lucifer everything he needed, he opened specific curtains to let the right amount of light into the house.

Adam made him breakfast and they ate together. It was so nice.

Lucifer got him to get a change of clothes from his room, just a pair of shorts for on the bottom just the thought of trying to put pants on with this cast would be a nightmare.

When Lucifer changed his shirt Adam couldn't help but nearly drool at how nice he looked without one. He wasn't just some small thin guy there was some muscle there too.

Lucifer: It's just very odd not getting up and doing everything myself.

And he was likely not going to do anything too much for himself for a couple months.

Adam: I'll try and make everything be as if you did it!

Lucifer: A-and you're sure I'm not keeping you from anything important?

Adam: Pfft, no. The only thing I have is work and my boss is super understanding.

Apparently his boss Sera was quite familiar with Lucifer being brought into the hospital. He used to be a frequent flyer.

Maybe Adam will have a peak at his medical record. Just to get a sense of how bad things really were.

Lucifer: I-I-I don't want to burden y-you.

Adam smiled and gently took Lucifer's hand in his: You're not a burden. As my neighbor and friend, you matter to me more than you know.

Luicfer's face warmed and his heart fluttered, he mattered? His eyes teared up a little, no one's told him that before.

Adam hugged him as he cried a little.

Lucifer: I-I'm sorry

Adam: Shhh, it's okay let your feelings out.

That made him cry more, he's never had someone validate his feelings. Always forced to keep them to himself and God forbid if he didn't.

They broke apart when he stopped crying.

Adam: I just gotta go next door and grab a few things okay? I'll be right back.

Luicfer: O-okay.

He flushed as Adam wiped his tears, he was too good to him.

-

Alastor sat out on his deck reading the morning paper with his coffee when he heard the door open.

But Adam didn't come out of his house, rather he came out of Lucifer's of all places. He gripped his mug, that charming little bastard even when he's in his fucking house all day he pulls people in.

He made a promise to Lilith that he would keep Lucifer's life Hell and it was one he intended to keep.

Trapped Heart

@beef-brisket

⚠️This deals with Agoraphobia, anxiety, depression, and mentions of domestic abuse ⚠️

-

Adam: Well that's the last of them.

He looked around his new home and smiled, this place was so much better than his last home and a third of the price too.

They were practically giving it away.

There was his lawn mower that was on the truck still.

Adam went out to put it in the garage when he noticed his neighbor, a short blonde man getting his mail from his box. He was better looking than his last neighbor.

Adam waved: Hey!

Lucifer jumped as he grasped his mail, he looked over and saw a handsome brunette standing in the driveway across the road smiling and waving.

Lucifer: O-Oh, hi!

Adam: Names Adam, I just moved in.

Lucifer: N-nice to meet you! I'm Lucifer, I hope you like it here.

He wanted to be polite and welcome his new neighbor right, but he could already feel the cold tendrils of anxiety start to slowly crawl through his skin trying to wrap around him like a vice grip.

How long has he been outside? His heart started to beat a little hard with each moment he's not back in his home. He could die! He's not safe he needs to get back!

Adam: Yeah me too.

By the looks of it he already likes what he sees.

Lucifer nodded, he could feel the tremors starting in his hands the palms getting sweaty.

He needs to go.

Lucifer: I-It was nice to meet you Adam! B-But I need to get going.

Adam: Oh okay, maybe we can hang out sometime?

Lucifer gave a tight smile: Y-yeah.

He waved again to be polite and tried not to run back to his house, his therapist said it was good for him to be out as long as he could stand it.

Pushing himself a little each day. Today him reached his limit.

Once his front door was closed and locked behind relief washed over him, he's safe now nothing can hurt him. He hugged his mail to his chest, he needed to sit down.

Lucifer went over and placed everything on the coffee table. He tried to remember his breathing exercises.

Adam seemed very nice, maybe he'll send Charlie over when she comes to give him a proper greeting.

-

Adam tilted his head as he watched his new neighbor go into his home, if he didn't know any better he would say the man was panicked. Did he do something? He knows his personality can be a little brash at times but he thought he was being polite.

A man that lived beside him came out for his mail as well.

Adam: Hi! Umm, I'm new here.

Alastor: Oh hello! I'm Alastor, I guess that makes us neighbors.

Adam chuckled: Guess so. Umm, if I may ask, is the man that lives there okay? I didn't intend to upset him.

Alastor looked over at Lucifer's home and rolled his eyes.

Alastor: Getting the mail was he? Don't worry about it that man's afraid of his own shadow. I wouldn't waste my time, he never leaves his house.

Well that sounded a little dramatic.

Adam: What?

Alastor leaned on the fence: Oh yeah, Mr. Morgenstern over there never leaves his house. Rumor has it that his wife used to beat the fuck out of him in the home but it was worse when they were in public. Apparently she'd just humiliate him and others would join in making things worse. He was never free of her but at least in the home he could be alone.

Adam was horrified to hear that: Dude, the fuck, is that true?

Alastor shrugged: Not sure. All I know that is true is she left him nearly 8 years ago and he's become some kind of hermit that never leaves the damn house. His daughter Charlie, sweet girl you'll likely meet her, comes over from time to time.

Adam looked over at Lucifer's house, that couldn't all be true right? Maybe some was and the rest is telephone gossip extras?

Him and Alastor parted ways, he had to put everything away in his house. All the while his mind kept going back to the handsome neighbor across the way.