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mypoisonedvine · 10 months

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | sub!robert fischer x dominatrix!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you're a professional dominatrix, he's a restless heir in desperate need of being put in his place; you both know what this is. it's just your job, it's just his fetish. no reason to make it more complicated than that, right?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only), bdsm dynamics, reward/punishment, orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral f and m receiving, cnc (meaning he says no but it's not literal, there's a safeword in place for that), angst and fluff at the end, presumably inaccurate depictions of sex work and dominatrix-ing, robert cries. a lot.

You weren’t expecting much when you met him, just another rich boy with daddy issues and an Italian suit.

And… yeah, you were pretty much exactly on the money. The very literal money— Robert was already paying almost double what anybody else was, in order to have a monopoly on your time. But, that said, he still managed to surprise you.

First of all, you were surprised how little experience he really had with this. People tend to ease into paying thousands of dollars for an on-call professional dominatrix; but Robert had the money and impulsive personality necessary to start at the top. It’s like getting a Lambo for your first car… which, to be fair, he had also done. He admitted to you that he’d only had one or two experiences with dominant women and the lifestyle in general: he credited it partially to a need for discretion, that he couldn’t just go to a club with the risk of the wrong people recognizing him and his business being affected. Though that was a fair reason, you knew he was leaving out his own anxiety as a significant factor as well.

Secondly, he surprised you with how well he understood his own needs and limits for someone with such little experience. He explained to you, in rather shameless detail, that he was looking for someone to relinquish emotional control to— that he didn’t need to be really physically tortured, just to be psychologically tormented. In that way, he was less ‘hardcore’ than many of your clients, who had physical damage to show for their time with you by the end of the session, but he was absolutely no wimp. A crybaby, yes, but not a wimp; big difference.

And, perhaps least importantly, he surprised you by being young, and hot. Not, you know, too young, and still older than you, but closer to your age than any of your other clients. As for him being hot, well… yes, he was probably the best-looking of your clients. ‘Probably’ being a polite word for ‘definitely’. Ironically, for being so submissive, he had a somewhat intimidating visage: sharp features, bright and icy eyes, quite tall as well. That was probably what most people saw first, but you were lucky to be able to appreciate completely how delicate he really was: with that pleading wet gaze, his thick bottom lip between his teeth, an unexpected softness to his masculine features.

You were surprised he needed to pay someone for this, looking like that, but then again, his kinks were a bit specific and his need for privacy was understandable. Maybe what all that money really was, was just hush money. After all, truth be told, you probably wouldn't mind doing the rest of it for free.

A friend of yours in the business warned you that that was a sign you needed to stop working for this guy. If you’re catching feelings, get out now, she warned. You tried to assure her it wasn’t feelings— just an acknowledgement that he was absurdly beautiful— but she didn’t seem to buy it; you yourself were starting to doubt that excuse.

But, here you were: usual place, usual time. A lot of your clients preferred hotels, but Robert Fischer found the most discreet method was just to have you come to his penthouse; he had a few properties, but apparently this one was the most secluded. The private elevator certainly gave off that impression.

He’d given you your own key to use, to take you to his place whenever you wanted. Obviously, you only went there when you had an appointment… but you did get a little giddy every time you used it. You got the impression that some small part of him hoped you’d use that key on your own time one day, but that could’ve been you projecting: you tried to remind yourself that he, like all the other clients, probably didn’t think of you much when you were gone.

It was hard to hold up that narrative just a few minutes later, though, as you stood in his bedroom with him on his knees in front of you.

“Missed you so much, Mistress,” he mumbled against your skin as he pressed his face to your thigh. “I swear, I haven’t thought about anything else since last time— can we move up to four times a week? Three isn’t enough anymore.”

He was a little more desperate than usual because, even with three sessions a week, this one had been delayed by two days because of his work. Still, he couldn’t quite justify being this worked up when you’d seen him four days ago… “Do you want to talk business, or do you want to play?” you asked him quickly. “Scheduling is best done before or after—”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sighed, looking up at you through his lashes. “Sorry, I just— we can talk about that later. I need you so fucking bad— and you look so pretty…”

You dressed a bit differently for him. Most of your clients wanted latex, leather, chains, studs— you know, the usual. Robert told you from the start he preferred soft things, pretty things. He’d asked if he could buy you things to wear but you insisted on simply billing him for whatever you picked out: anything else was giving him too much power over you. Thankfully, he’d never had an issue with your tastes.

He liked seeing you in relatively ‘normal’ clothes. Little black dresses with lacy pantyhose, silk robes— he actually went a little feral seeing you in a pinstriped three-piece suit once, but that’s another story. Today, you were keeping it classic with a black skirt and blazer, plus stockings with garter belts (his favorite) and your tallest, sharpest heels. Clearly it had the intended effect, since you hadn’t even told him to get on his knees when you walked in…

“Get up,” you told him, and he scrambled onto his feet and gave you a look that barely hid how impatient he was feeling inside. “Actually, I have some business to discuss with you. Take a seat on the bed, why don’t you?”

He tilted his head a bit but did as he was told. He hadn’t even seemed to notice the briefcase you brought— maybe his life was just so full of briefcases he’d learned to ignore them. But you certainly had his attention when you set it down between you and opened the clasps— though you didn’t lift it to reveal its contents yet.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” you informed him flatly. He seemed thrown off— like he couldn’t tell if this was part of the scene or not.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said first, then adding, “what did I do wrong? I’ve been so good…”

“I saw you in the papers.”

Reaching inside, you pulled out the newspaper picture of him, walking along the Manhattan streets with a young woman by his side. She was taller than him with her heels on, overwhelmingly blonde, annoyingly pretty. His eyes went wide at the sight. “Oh—” he began, but you cut him off.

“It’s not right for you to be seeing me when you have a girlfriend,” you explained, pausing before you set down a magazine snapshot of him with a different model, “or two.”

“N-no, wait, I can explain that,” he rushed, but you shoved the pictures aside and leaned forward, sneering at him.

“Is that what you are, huh? Just a slut?” you snapped. “Am I not enough for you?”

“No! God, no— you’re everything,” he whined, “of course. Those are just—”

“Just what? They seem like lovely young women, Mr. Fischer, you don’t need to insult them for my benefit.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” he pouted, looking down— already his cheeks were getting redder. “You’re really mad at me? For being seen with them?”

You knew he was upset you weren’t calling him a pet name, the last thing he wanted to be when you were here was Mr. Fischer— he wanted to be your good boy, your baby, your puppy, your pet. “I’m more concerned about what you did that nobody else saw, Robert,” you admitted.

The last thing you wanted to do was appear jealous— that was never what you would do, or at least, not your character. But one of your rules for Robert was that he was required to be celibate outside of your sessions with him. It was always about control— and he loved the humiliation of being reminded that you worked with other men and slept with whoever you wanted, but that he was doomed to only be yours. He asked you to remind him all the time, whispering in his ear about how he belonged to you, that nobody but you could touch him, that he was just Mistress’ good boy.

“It’s not like that, I swear,” he whined, “they— it was just publicity. For both of us— I mean, for the girls and for me. It’s business!”

“Right,” you returned, not acting especially convinced. One of those photos in the magazine was pretty deliberate— his arm around her waist, whispering something in her ear with a smirk. It certainly didn’t seem like business.

“Please, Mistress, you know I’d never—”

“Do I?” you interrupted sharply. “I mean, after you were so naughty last time—”

“I didn’t mean to come so fast, I was just—”

“How dare you speak over me?” you hissed, and he clamped his mouth shut as his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, ma’am…” he whispered with defeat.

“I’m starting to wonder, what’s stopping you from breaking any of the rules? How do I know you’re really behaving?”

“Y-you know, because…!” he trailed off, eyes darting wildly as he looked for a response. “Because you know how bad I need you. How important you are to me.”

When your heart beat a little faster, you told yourself that he really meant how important these sessions are to me.

Going back to what seemed like his default state, Robert dropped to the floor again, kneeling in front of where you had your legs crossed tensely. Twice now he’d done that without you asking, but you weren’t going to correct him this time because, well… some men were just meant to be on their knees. “I swear, I swear it wasn’t real, was all just for the pictures… I’d never break your rules, Mistress, I wanna be good for you.”

“Want to, yes,” you smirked, “but it takes a lot of willpower, when you could afford as many little playthings as your heart desires.”

You leaned back on your hands as he got more and more desperate, and you fought the urge to smile proudly seeing him panic a bit. He knew that with your hands holding your weight, you wouldn’t be running your fingers through his hair or stroking his cheek… he was getting antsy, still not having been touched by you ten minutes into the session. “Let me show you,” he pleaded, “I promise, I only want you— I-I’ve been waiting for this, for you to touch me again…”

Now, truthfully, you’d believed him when he said those girls were for show— for publicity, as he said. But only now that he said it like that did you really believe how desperate he was. Unfortunately for him, it just made you want to tease him more. “Touch you?” you repeated, egging on his begging.

"Please, touch me," he whined, "please, I'll be so good… I need you, Mistress."

"I know you do, baby, but I don't think you've earned me yet."

“Yes, ma’am— I don’t deserve you,” he breathed. “I know I don’t.”

He looked so sweet, so broken, looking up at you like that. “Why should I touch you at all tonight, baby boy?” you asked sweetly; he rested his forehead on your knee, looking exhausted from his own desperation.

“I… I don’t know if you should,” he admitted, surprising you a bit. “I just know that if you don’t, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

You said nothing, though you couldn’t fight your smile, and he continued softly under his breath.

“I swear, I only want you,” he whispered. “I only ever wanted you.”

“Alright,” you shrugged, “show me how bad you want me.”

Uncrossing your legs, you let him see that your little outfit today didn’t include any panties; as he caught a glimpse up your skirt, his shoulders and chest sunk with a sigh. “Mistress,” he breathed, but a second later he grabbed a tight hold of your legs and yanked you closer to the edge of the bed so he could push up your skirt and dive right in.

He was always ravenous when he did this. It didn’t matter how long it had been since you saw him last, how long you teased him, or if you just walked right in and ordered him to his knees: he always, always ate you out like his life depended on it. He was obsessed with serving you this way, moaning and whimpering against your skin, grabbing weakly at your hips or thighs and sometimes struggling to control his own arousal as his cock throbbed in his trousers.

You were already trying to temper your reactions; if you showed how much you liked it, you’d be surrendering a bit of your dominance, and that couldn’t be allowed. Instead of gasping or moaning his name, you simply hummed and reached down to card your fingers through his hair; he whined against you, even louder when you tugged on it.

“Good boy,” you praised softly, making him shut his eyes tight as he sucked and licked at everything his mouth could reach. He flicked his tongue over your clit and you fought not to let your hips buck against his face. “Very good boy— how much do you like tasting Mistress’ cunt?”

“More than anything,” he answered, taking a break from the main task to kiss and bite hungrily all over your inner thighs. “Fuck, I could taste you forever— you’re so perfect— should I keep going?”

“Of course, baby, just keep looking up at me.”

God, those eyes; sometimes you thought he could look right through you with those. Could he see how hard you were fighting not to lose it right there, not to lay back and order him to fuck you? You wondered if he would— it had never gone that far with him, he was obsessed with the denial, the inequity, the deprivation. To be fair, you didn’t have sex with any of your clients… but you also never thought about sex with any of your clients, other than him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you decided after a few moments, causing him to look up at you with concern like he’d done something wrong.

“I’m not allowed to make you come?” he pouted.

“Not yet,” you said simply. “Get up.”

He popped right up, ready to serve— as always.

“Why don’t you take off your shoes for me?” you encouraged, and he certainly wasted no time; but as he toed his shoes off, he shirked off his jacket, loosening his tie and getting a few buttons of his shirt undone. You raised your eyebrows, frowning at his eagerness. “Stop. I didn’t say all that.”

He slowed to a stop. “S-sorry,” he mumbled, looking away.

“Lay on the bed.”

You watched patiently as he did, sitting up beside him but not getting too close. He looked nice mostly-dressed, his suit half-removed and a bit disheveled. You’d made him strip completely before, adding to his vulnerability, but you thought there were benefits to this too: by wearing his work clothes, you were reminding him of the man he was supposed to be while treating him like the needy boy he really was. Whether or not he noticed that irony, he shuddered when you gently brushed your hand over his bulge, which flexed as if trying to ask for more itself.

“Look how hard you got for me, just from eating me out,” you noticed proudly.

“Tastes so good,” he whimpered his excuse, biting his lip when you started to open his belt and trousers. “Y-you’re sure I deserve it?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I think it might be fun to touch you a little. You want me to, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, of course,” he rushed, just as emphatic as ever.

He keened and bucked up into your hand when you just barely touched his cock; you pulled away, giving him a stern look as a reminder not to move too much. When he settled down, you gently reached into his boxers again and freed his aching cock. There was a little precum at the tip already, and he was looking at you with fascination as you delicately touched him, but never properly gripped or stroked it just to keep him on edge a little more.

“How long has it been since anyone but me touched you like this, baby boy?” you wondered.

“Y-years,” he choked, “years— I don’t even touch myself anymore, I swear.”

You gently ran your fingers over the ridge of the head, making him shudder and writhe on the bed. “Are you sure? You didn't even jerk off after feeling up that lovely young lady in the magazine?"

"No— and I didn't— c'mon, Mistress, don't you believe me?" he choked. "I'm your good boy, you know I am— love being yours…"

“So you really don’t touch yourself?”

“No!” he snapped, correcting his tone a moment later. “No, I… I stopped when you told me to.”

"Well, how about you show me how you used to do it?" you encouraged with a grin, taking your hand away from him. "Stroke your cock for me, puppy."

"No, please," he gasped, "I want you to— please, I'm sorry—"

"Stop fucking whining and do what I tell you," you sneered. "Not such a good boy after all, are you?"

He suddenly scrambled to get his hand around his cock when you put it like that, groaning and biting his lip as he gripped himself tightly. "Like this, Mistress?" he panted proudly.

"Mm, something like that," you cooed. "But go a little slower, baby boy, we've got plenty of time."

His eyes got wide with fear— fear that you would really make him edge himself the whole time. You had much bigger plans, though.

He found a rhythm: not horribly slow, but careful and precise. His cheeks kept getting pinker as you watched him, and he once reached out to touch your thigh with his free hand, but you moved away.

“C’mon,” he begged quickly, “can I just… can I at least see…?”

“See what?”

“Y-your tits, maybe,” he asked shyly, stroking his cock faster already at just the thought.

“I don’t think you need to see my tits,” you accused, noticing that his cock was already flexing in his grip. He really had been worked up, if he was this sensitive to just his own hand. “You’re doing just fine, baby.”

He grunted but went on, shifting around on the bed slightly.

“A little faster now,” you told him. “When you used to jerk off like this, before you met me, did you imagine while you did it? Did you watch porn?”

“Yes— I mean, imagine, always; porn sometimes,” he answered.

“What kind of porn?”

“Uh… this kind,” he admitted with a small laugh. When you heard that laugh, saw the self-effacing smile on his face, you suddenly thought again about what your friend said: if you’re catching feelings, get out now. But you shook the thought from your mind.

“Do you miss it? Being able to get yourself off?” you pressed.

“Fuck no,” he grunted, and you caught the way his cock bobbed in his hand— he was getting even closer, poor thing. “Don’t even— don’t want to now, but… but I’m trying so hard to be good for you…”

“I know,” you offered with a sympathetic, yet condescending, pout as you leaned in and caressed his face for a second. Just that seemed to push him even closer, and he struggled to keep his hips down again.

“I— fuck, I’m close,” he finally admitted. “I’ll come…”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

"Oh, please, please don't make me come," he whimpered. "I— I don't wanna come like this…"

You tilted your head. "Like what, puppy?"

"I want… I want you to touch me…" he pouted, eyes welling up a bit.

"We agreed you don't deserve that, Robert," you said sternly.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobbed— and there were real tears, he was obviously devastated that he had let you down so much. "I'll do anything, I swear— let me be your good boy, your puppy— Mistress, I just wanna be yours again…"

You slapped him hard on the thigh when you saw his hand start to falter. "Don't slow down," you snapped. "I want you to keep going— keep stroking your poor cock, don't fucking stop until I tell you."

"But I— I'm so close," he choked.

"That's not my fault," you chuckled. "You're a pathetic whiny baby who comes too quick, that's not really my problem."

He bit his shaking lip and blinked through his tears, hips beginning to buck up into his own hand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said over and over, "I didn't mean to be bad, I promise… only ever wanted t-to be your good boy…"

Feeling just a little sympathetic, you leaned in closer to speak beside his ear. "Is my good boy gonna come if I tell him to?"

Though he hesitated, he nodded.

"But you don't want to?"

He shook his head.

"Because you want me to touch you when you come, right?" you pressed, your voice just as soft as your touch while you gently ran your hand up his leg. He whimpered and squirmed, his eyes getting a bit wide. "You want me to make you come?"

"Yes! Please, fuck, please, Mistress…" he gasped.

You rubbed his inner thigh as he stroked himself faster; you could see his cock flexing, and you knew he was trying so hard not to come right then. Deciding to test him further, you let your fingers run over his swollen balls, and he choked on his own throat. "Bet these are so full of come for me," you purred.

"Yes, Mistress," he hissed.

"Stop moving your hand," you ordered suddenly, and for a man who'd been begging you to let him stop, he took a second to do it— his hand faltered a little as he slowed down, and he ended up holding his cock much too tight… surely trying to hold himself back from coming still. "You wanted me to touch you, didn't you?"

"Yes," he gasped, eyes getting wide with hope. "Yes! Please, Mistress! I swear I'll be good…"

"Then let go of your cock and let me take care of you, baby," you cooed. Again, he took a second to do it— still trying to make sure he wouldn't come when he wasn't choking the life out of it. Hissing as he let go, he dropped his head back with the sweetest moan as you gave him one slow stroke from the base to the tip. "Good job, baby," you whispered to him, "you're my good boy, aren't you?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his exposed neck, and nodded hastily.

When his cock twitched in your hand, you figured it was just because he was so sensitive— but then, halfway into your second stroke, he gasped and suddenly began to come. You noticed it in his face first, the way he scrunched his nose and let out a low groan; then there was hot, sticky come shooting over his chest and stomach— and ruining that nice white shirt.

You pulled your hand away instantly, giving his face the hardest slap you could; he cried out in pain, but he just kept coming and bucking his hips into nothing.

"You pathetic, stupid boy!" you scolded, and he groaned. "I gave you one stroke, and you came?!”

You said it in past tense, but he was still coming, whining through his teeth and blinking quickly with those long lashes of his. He looked so sweet— but you knew that he knew he was utterly fucked. “I-I’m sorry,” he breathed, groaning one more time and going limp onto the bed beneath him as his cock gave one more weak flex. “I’m sorry, Mistress, I’m sorry…”

You watched him pant for a moment, almost losing your train of thought when you saw just how pretty he was.

Unfortunately for him, it gave you an interesting idea.

Loosening his tie, you slipped it off around his head; he blinked his eyes open and scrunched up his brows with confusion. “What are you…?” he asked, though he seemed to figure it out when you gave him a certain look: he instantly held out his wrists for you, and you smiled proudly.

You didn’t just tie them together, though— you tied them to the headboard, keeping his hands bound above his head as you grinned and leaned down over him. “What am I gonna do with you, puppy?” you cooed in a sweet-but-concerning way.

Chuckling nervously, he answered, “that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

You ran one finger over his cock, following the line a final drop of come had left down the shaft, and he hissed in a breath through his teeth. “So sensitive,” you noticed; he tensed up, like he was catching on.

When you licked a stripe up his shaft with the tip of your tongue, his gaze darkened and his mouth went slack. “I— I don’t—” he stammered, clearly conflicted with his desire for you and his fleeting logic telling him this was going to hurt. “I don’t think I can… take it…”

You’d never done this to him before, but you couldn’t stop yourself: looking up at his flushed face to see his reaction, you enveloped his head with your lips.

He let out a high, desperate moan as you suckled his swollen tip; “M-Mistress, fuck, I— oh my god—”

You looked up at him, but his head was tilted back too far to see you. You slid your mouth down further, stroking his base with your hand, until you were gagging on him and he was writhing beneath you wildly.

“Oh my god, fuck! Fuck, fuck— I… god your mouth is warm…”

You pulled off of him, partially to give him a bit of a break and partially so you could keep talking to him. Then again, it wasn’t much of a break since you kept stroking him, letting your spit and his come smooth your movements, sure to focus on that poor overstimulated tip. “It’s not too much for you, is it? My good boy can take it, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he promised, though he didn’t sound that confident. It sounded like what he really meant was I’m gonna try my best to take it.

“And aren’t you so thankful that Mistress is so nice to you, sucking your cock even though you don’t deserve it?”

“Fuck, of course,” he panted, “thank yo—oh fuck, fuck—”

You threw him off by taking him down as far as you could in the middle of his sentence, but he still had his manners.

“Thank you!” he yelped, starting to shudder more violently. “Th-thank you, so much, fuck, you’re perfect—”

When you pulled off again, he sighed with relief yet followed your mouth with a buck of his hips. “Does it hurt, or does it feel good?” you wondered.

“I— it’s— both,” he choked.

“I bet you wished I would suck your cock someday, didn’t you?” you pressed, and he instantly nodded and whined through his teeth as you licked all over the tip with a wide tongue. He gasped as you licked right over the slit.

“Fuck, I did— god, I— oh…”

Poor thing couldn’t get many words out in a row, he kept losing it every time you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue. And then you gave his balls a firm squeeze, and he made a sound you thought you might’ve never heard him make before.

“Mistress, please, please,” he begged breathlessly, moaning louder as you bobbed your head up and down. You couldn’t tell if he was begging for more or for relief, and honestly, you expected he didn’t know either.

You kept going for a few more minutes of that before his cries of pain got a little too intense— then you pulled away, and replaced your mouth with a hand stroking him as fast as you could. He still sobbed, of course, and dropped his head back again between his restrained arms.

“Fuck, s’too much,” he breathed, “just slow down…”

“I can’t, sweet boy— I need you to come again for me,” you encouraged.

“I— fuck, Mistress— I—” he stammered, and you could tell he was trying to stop himself from saying I can’t. He couldn’t bear to disappoint you twice.

“Can you do that for me, baby?” you cooed, making him look at you with the widest, wettest eyes. “Can you show me you’re still my good boy?”

“F-fuck, yes, okay,” he panted, “I’ll… I’ll come for you, just don’t stop, please…”

“I won’t stop, puppy, not until we’ve got every drop of come out of you,” you promised.

He should’ve known you took ‘every drop’ very seriously. Though he came after just another minute of stroking him like this, you still didn’t stop. When he cried out and tugged on his own tie holding him down, you didn’t stop. “Fuck!” he yelped. “Please, I can’t— I can’t!”

“Shh, yes you can,” you encouraged, though your free hand holding him down by the neck did more to keep him in place. “C’mon, be my good boy, gimme one more.”

He kept trying to squirm away, though, and his wrists were pulling hard on that necktie— he was probably going to ruin it.

“Stop fighting so much,” you warned him firmly. “Just be my good boy and fucking take it, come on— the fuck are you good for if you can’t do what I tell you to?”

“S-sorry,” he barely managed to get out, you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of his feet kicking all over the satin sheets.

“You don’t wanna get in trouble, do you? Don’t you wanna show me you know how to do what you’re told?” you kept taunting him, glancing down and seeing how red and weepy his cock was getting— you knew he wasn’t much further off from coming again.

“Yes, yes, fuck, I’m sorry,” he spoke hoarsely through the pressure you were putting on his neck.

“The sooner you come, the sooner it stops, puppy,” you informed him, gripping his cock even tighter as he hissed in breaths through his teeth. “Just come for me one more time…”

All he could do was lick his lips and nod; you let go of his neck, wanting to hear every broken moan he made. With his eyes shut tight and his nose scrunched up, he finally came with a long and wavering grunt— that was what you were waiting for, the sound of total relief. You slowed your movements down to a stop, smiling as you watched his cock give just two small pumps of come that dripped onto the ends of his shirt… it flexed weakly a few more times after that, but clearly he was beyond spent.

“Good job,” you praised softly, “you did so good for me… look what a mess you made…”

If you were feeling really mean you’d make him clean that all up, but something told you it was best to stop now… that ‘something’ being your watch. You’d stayed twenty minutes late and you were probably going to piss off your next client by being significantly tardy, especially considering you had to change first; you hoped you could chalk it up to some mindfuck dominance thing, walk in and say Mistress is never late, I always get here when I want to, if you were sitting around waiting for me that just shows how pathetic you are or something.

As you thought about that, you reached up and released the tie around Robert’s hands; he didn’t jump to rub his wrists, or flex his fingers into fists to bring some feeling back. He just let them fall limply at either side of him.

Though it was a small difference, it worried you— as did his silence. Normally he was all over you with praises by now, thanking you for everything, telling you he couldn’t wait to see you again.

“Was it a good session?” you asked him gently, letting him know it was over— he didn’t need to ‘perform’ anymore. You still felt like you needed to, though.

He worried you with the continued silence, though, just catching his breath and keeping his eyes shut; just when you thought you might check again that he was okay, he nodded quickly and hoarsely insisted, “Yeah, m’fine.”

“Not too much for you?” you asked nervously, watching him shake his head— but his lip was shaking, too. He was still crying, and you could tell it wasn’t like the whiny tears from before: he was holding back from bursting into sobs. You interrupted the silence with a whispered Robert? and he collapsed; folding in on himself, he curled into a ball on the bed and shook as he cried. Your eyes went wide as you realized you were absolutely in over your head.

Aftercare was generally not part of the deal. Most of your clients didn’t want it— they preferred to process whatever they needed to alone, after you left— and the rest just had to suck it up, though they never made much of a fuss. This felt like a real situation, and you felt guilty leaving now, but worried you’d only make it worse or break your own rules if you intervened somehow.

“I’m gonna give you some time,” you offered as you sat up— like ditching him now was a courtesy. Of course, as you expected (from him, specifically), he reached out for you.

“Please stay,” he begged— still heavily in his submissive mindset, it seemed, and sniffling pathetically. “Please, please—”

“Your time’s up,” you informed him flatly.

“Anything,” he whimpered, “name your price.”

“It’s— it’s not about the money, Robert,” you sighed. “It’s just unprofessional.”

“But I need you,” he breathed, and your heart twisted. “You can’t leave me like this, I just— I just need you to—”

Relenting, you sat back down on the bed; he instantly wrapped his arms around you, buried his face in your chest, and pulled you down with him.

Though it took you a moment, you went ahead and wrapped your arms around him in return, hoping to soothe him. “I’m sorry,” he said, though you struggled to make it out at first until he kept repeating it.

“It’s okay,” you replied softly, rubbing his back and looking down at the mess of brown hair shaking with each sob. “It’s okay, baby, you did really good… I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to go very hard on you, I mean, I’ve made you come a lot more than that before.”

“Not that,” he choked, finally pulling his face up to let you see and hear him better. Your heart broke seeing how overwhelmed he really was. “I just… I really don’t wanna disappoint you…”

In retrospect, maybe you should’ve known it would be too much for him— or maybe it was something about today, it just hit the wrong way, you couldn’t be sure. It didn’t really matter, in the end.

You sat up a bit, and he followed you, as you sighed and held his face.

“Robert, I was just— that wasn’t real,” you promised. “I needed something, you know, to work with. I just wanted you to prove your loyalty— I was never angry with you.”

“I know,” he croaked, though he was calming a bit already, “I know that, but I— it felt like it. Nobody else tells me what I’m supposed to do, you know— only you do that. I need that. Then I can know I’m doing what I’m supposed to… you’re the only person I can’t let down.”

Biting your lip for a second, you reached out to touch his chest through the half-unbuttoned shirt, but he pulled away suddenly.

“I know what this is,” he said, suddenly sounding a bit more normal again— almost clinical, actually. “I know this is your job.”

“Well… yeah,” you mumbled; obviously he knew that. You tried to understand what he was really saying to you.

“I know… none of it’s real,” he added, looking away.

Gently, you turned his face back to yours, wiping a tear from his cheek with your thumb. “I really am proud of you,” you whispered, moving closer to him on the bed.

He held your face, then, too; and he put his other hand on your waist, moving even closer to you. “Please…” he began, and though the word was overwhelmingly familiar, you were sure you’d never heard him say it like that before. “Please, let me kiss you.”

You kissed him first, feeling one more tear roll down his face as he pulled you closer and pressed your body to his.

The kiss was soft at first, still a little teary; the way he held you was incredibly tender but with a lightly-suppressed neediness behind it… his fingers would tighten at your waist sometimes and you could tell he wanted to just force you against him. You’d let him, if he wanted to, but he was probably too weak after all that.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching to hold onto his shoulders and squeeze them. “I’m so sorry, baby—”

“No,” he breathed against your lips, barely stopping the kiss to speak, “no— no, you’re perfect—”

“Stop it,” you mumbled, pushing him away slightly. “I’m not. I fucked up. I went too hard on you.”

“I— I could’ve safeworded, I just didn’t… I don’t know,” he shook his head before leaning it onto your shoulder. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

You laughed a little as you combed your fingers through his hair, letting your nails gently scratch his scalp. “No, I just get paid to call you pathetic. You’re so strong…”

“No, I’m not,” he promised, his voice oddly firm and stable for how weepy the words could’ve come off. “I’m not— not even strong enough to… to end this.”

You froze up, looking at him with wide eyes as he pulled his face up close to yours.

“It’s not right anymore,” he whispered to you, cradling your cheek in his palm; god, his hands were warm. “You know it, don’t you? You can tell. You can tell I broke the fucking rules.”

“Don’t tell me, after all this bullshit,” you managed to laugh bitterly, “you really are dating one of those fucking models— or both—”

“Not that rule, fuck,” he coughed, “no— I fucking fell for you.”

You blinked quickly, forcing yourself to believe you misheard him. “You—?”

“I fell in love with you.”

“No— Robert, you don’t even know me,” you insisted, looking away.

“I want to! God, I want to,” he groaned, “it’s all I think about: what you must be like when you’re not, you know, on the clock. What turns you on, what ticks you off, what… fuck, what you eat for breakfast! Anything.”

“Then you don’t love me,” you informed him, “you love the idea. You love the… mystery. You don’t really want to know me, I promise.”

“You don’t love a mystery because you want it to stay that way,” he laughed, rubbing your shoulders— only then did you notice your own eyes were getting teary. You really didn’t want him to see you that way, but you didn’t have much choice now. “You love a mystery because you can’t wait to get to the ending and figure it all out! I just wanna know you— you’re a page-turner.”

“Okay, the metaphor is a little tired now,” you rolled your eyes, but you sniffled and tried to hide your face.

“Hey,” he whispered, petting your head, toying with your hair for a moment with his fingers. “I know you can’t keep going on with me, now that I said that. I know this is gonna have to be goodbye. But I… I think goodbye is still less painful than having to be this close to you but so far away. I’m sorry… I thought I was strong enough for this.”

Get out now. Get out now. The advice echoed in your head. If you’re catching feelings, get out now and definitely do not tell him you’re falling for him too— no don’t you fucking dare bitch— “It’s not goodbye,” you blurted out. “I’m not strong enough for that.”

When you dared to look at him, his eyes were full of hope.

“God, you look fucked up,” you noticed with a laugh, your eyes scanning his ruined suit. “C’mon, let’s get you in the bath.”

There was plenty of room in this bathtub, more than any one person could need— plenty for you to have your own space. But, of course, Robert kept you close to him, your chest against his back as he ran his hands over your skin under the water.

“For breakfast? I don’t know, I guess I have toast a lot, if I remember it,” you chuckled. “My mornings are pretty busy.”

“Any pet peeves?” he asked.

“Uh, people who don’t use earbuds on public transport,” you decided.

“Ah,” he nodded. “That sounds irritating. I, um, haven’t been on public transport…”

You rolled your eyes, but you giggled, too.

“If you could only wear one color for the rest of your life, what would it be?” he prompted.

You turned over, splashing the water a bit, so you could look up at him. “Is this interrogation ever gonna end? The water’s getting cold.”

“Well, so far, the more I know, the more I wanna know, so…” he trailed off. “Guess we’re gonna be in here ‘til I solve the mystery, hm?”

You laughed, but he pulled you into another kiss— more energetic than before, but still sweet, still a little hungry. When you pulled back, he leaned in and kissed your neck instead. “I think we could be here all night and still have a lot left to cover,” you warned him.

“I can afford all night,” he shrugged.

As tempted as you were to take him up on that, you had to accept that that element of the arrangement was over now. “I’m not gonna charge you,” you admitted, making him break away from your skin to look up at you. “You wanted to learn what I’m like off the clock, right?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling you a little closer until you straddled his lap in the water. “I wanna learn whatever I can.”

“Well, here’s something you should’ve figured out a lot sooner,” you offered, running your fingers over his jaw until you gently held his chin, making him look up at you with this sweet, pouty, needy look on his face. “I fell for you, too.”

#whoops how did feelings get in there?#not sure how that happened #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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flowersandbigteeth · 3 months

Note

Now I’m thinking about how cute of a story it’d be if a human woman reader had a preference towards monster men, but she kept getting used by a lot of monster fetishists to fill their own fantasies. Getting her heart broken constantly as they didn’t see her as a being with real feelings. And eventually she gives up…But of course x monster comes into her life and tries his best to court her cause he actually does love her and see her as a person. Reader of course is very jaded and thinks he’ll use and abuse her too, just like all the others.

If you’re still interested in writing somber stories with a happily ever after in the end, something like this could be fun to explore. The ugly exploitive relationship dynamics taken onto human women by monster men.

Like just imagine reader is sitting in a park, having a picnic, a monster comes up to her, is pleasant, and reader thinks that this is going to be “the one” finally, and gets her heart broken again when he asks her for a one night stand. Or even worse…hands her a card to work at a human x monster exclusive private fetish club…

Um...so I ended up with something close to this, but kind of with a different spin. I've been wanting to do a mothman for soooooo long and this just came together in the right way. So here he is ^_^

Mothman (Roth) x f reader

Word Count: 9.5K

General Plot: Your gargoyle crush asks you out on a date and things don't go as planned.

TW: nsfw mothman smut, moth genetalia, a lot of teeth, kidnapping, sexy pheromones, a bit of violence, reader being tied up and gagged, revenge, mating and soft yandere vibes, bad boyfriends

“Five, ten, fifteen…fifteen,” you sighed counting your tips as you sat on the curb outside the kitchen of the Italian restaurant you worked at.

Tears bubbled in your eyes as you realized you hadn’t made nearly enough to cover the rent you were already late on.

“How you doing mite,” a deep voice rumbled behind you.

You heard a squeak and then a thunk as Tyre, the chef, dumped some trash. Wiping your eyes, you peered up at him, trying to hide the redness on your cheeks. Tyre was a handsome gargoyle with slate gray skin and piercing blue eyes. He smirked as your eyes met. Sniffling, you tried to clean up your face.

“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine.”

He glanced down at the odd dollars and some change in your hand.

“Bad night?”

You sighed.

“It’s always a bad night.”

He scratched his chin, eyes traveling from the top of your head to the slip-proof shoes you had to wear.

“There’s someplace I ought to take you,” he said, eyes taking on a predatory gleam. “You like monsters, right?”

You blushed, unsure what to say now that your secret wish seemed like it might be coming true. You’d always had a crush on Tyre. He was big and strong with a rakish smile that made all the waitresses swoon.

“Um…yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he said, grinning. “You’re off tomorrow night. I saw it on the schedule.”

You were going to beg for another shift from one of the other waitresses, but if you were only going to make a few bucks, you figured you couldn’t pass up the chance for a date with your crush.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your breath a gasp.

He pulled a phone from an apron pocket and handed it to you.

“Put your address in here. I’ll pick you up. Wear something pretty.”

Overcome, you could hardly speak, typing your address and phone number into the phone.

“See you tomorrow night, mite,” he winked before walking back inside.

The door slam made you jump, but your heart was already pattering. Tyre had finally noticed you! Ever since you’d started that job, you’d been in love with him. It was true. You did like monsters, but not in a weird way. You were curious, but you were too shy ever to ask Tyre any questions about himself. You didn’t want him to think you were a weirdo fetishist trying to get in his pants for a thrill. But finally, he’d noticed you and asked you on a date!

Despite the lack of money in your pocket, you hopped up from the curb with a pep in your step. Maybe something was finally going right for you for once.

When you arrived home, you frowned at the yellow notice taped to your door.

EVICTION NOTICE: VACATE THE PREMISES WITHIN 15 DAYS OR YOU WILL BE REMOVED

Your breath caught in your throat, and you wondered if you should call Tyre and cancel your date. Walking inside, you frowned. Your apartment was small, if you could even call it an apartment. It was only one room with no kitchen or bathroom. You had to use the common toilet down the hall, and you either ate food you brought home from the restaurant or cooked noodles on your hotplate. Still, you couldn’t even afford this little closet.

Where were you supposed to go? Pulling out the crumpled fifteen dollars, you stuffed it in the large mug with all your tips. You already knew how much was inside. You counted it over and over again every night, hoping it would magically bloom to a higher sum.

One hundred and fifteen dollars. That’s how much you had to figure out a new home with. While tears bit at your eyes, your feet were exhausted from running around all day, so you flopped on your dipping air mattress and fell asleep.

You woke to the next morning to your phone buzzing and grinned at the message on the screen.

“Pick you up at 9.”

Scooping up the phone, you beamed. As you dropped it on your chest, you indulged yourself in a quick fantasy. You’d go on a date, Tyre would fall madly in love with you, and then you’d move into his flat, have his little gargoyle babies, and everything would turn out just fine. This had to have happened for a reason, right? All afternoon, you skipped around your apartment, trying on your meager array of outfits for just the right one.

When 9 came around, you sat on the edge of your bed, checking and rechecking the message. 9, he did say 9, right? Right. He’ll be here.

Thirty minutes later, there was a heavy knock on the door. You tripped over yourself to answer it, eyes lighting up the moment you met the cool blue on the other side. He looked you over, a meaty hand braced against the doorframe, showing off his massive biceps.

“Look at you, mite,” he said, brushing a curl of hair from your face. “You clean up nice.”

“Ah, thanks, Tyre. It’s nothing really,” you half whispered, words having a difficult time making themselves past your lips.

“Come on,” he said, taking you by the arm. “You’re gonna have fun where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, from the inside of Tyre’s Denali, as he cruised down a dark alley.

You had only just realized it was a little late to be going to a restaurant, so where was he taking you? He only smirked at you, eyes glittering in the dim vehicle.

“You’ll see,” was all he would say.

You should have been concerned, but the truth was you were down bad. You were about to be evicted, had hardly any friends, and no boyfriend. Your last situationship with a werewolf had been a humiliating disaster. You needed this. He pulled into a parking lot, flashing a black card, and a gate lifted, allowing you inside.

“Here we are,” he said when he parked, circling the car to help you out.

When he’d set you on the ground, he frowned for a moment, scrubbing his chin.

“Let’s’ fix this,” he said, grabbing the tight skirt you were wearing and hiking it up your hips so it was more of a mini skirt. Then he yanked on the neck of your sweater, pushing it down over your shoulders.

“What? Where are we going?” you asked, getting a little more concerned.

He only looked at you lazily, reaching a hand down to smudge the makeup at the corner of your eyes more.

“A private club. Freaky girls like you love this shit,” he assured you, though he was becoming less and less assuring.

What did he mean by “freaky girls”? You were just a normal girl. You liked reading books and cooking when you had the chance. There was nothing “freaky” about you at all.

Grabbing your shoulders with his big hands, he shoved you forward through the dark lot. Around you, large, monster-sized, luxury vehicles were parked in neat rows. When you reached an odd metal door, he knocked with his knuckles. A hatch slid open, and bright green eyes peered out.

“What do you want?”

They narrowed on Tyre.

“You’re not welcome here.”

You gulped, cheeks reddening, looking between the pair of eyes and Tyre.

“Tell Roth I brought him a new girl,” he said, “Told him I’d pay my debt.”

The eyes flicked down to you for a moment, and the door squeaked open.

“Tyre, what is going-?”

You didn’t get a chance to speak as the large, man with pale skin and green eyes snatched your wrist up and dragged you away from him.

“Tyre! Tyre!” you half shouted, confused as he jerked you down a dark hall, but looking back, the gargoyle only smiled and waved at you.

“Stop screaming. You’re disturbing the ambiance,” the man holding you in his firm fist, hissed.

When he opened his mouth, you could see sharp fangs framing straight white teeth. The rest of your words caught in your throat as he dragged you through the club.

On a large platform in the center, human women dressed in skimpy outfits danced on stage to oddly alluring music. Where the bright stage lights didn’t shine, you could see monsters of all kinds with human women clinging to them engaged in a frightening variety of sexual activity.

Three gargoyles were sharing one woman, splayed on a table. A centaur had a woman strapped to him with some sort of harness, and your eyes popped when you saw the way he used her. Your heart started to race as you put two and two together.

You’d heard about these clubs. Places where well-paying monsters could play around with human women to fulfill their fetish fantasies. Yes, you liked monsters, but you would have never stepped into a place like this, not for all the money in the world! You experienced enough creepy fetishists as a waitress. It seemed the only time anyone offered you any real money was to take you home for a night of their own entertainment.

Betrayal cut you to the core, remembering Tyre’s words. He’d brought you here to repay a debt! He never had any plan of dating you at all! You were nothing more than a trinket to be traded!

Panic startled you to your senses, and you started to fight the vampire holding you.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” you screamed, jerking so hard on your wrist that you thought you might break it.

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Jesus, that bastard. He tricked you to come here, didn’t he?” he hissed, frowning.

He paused, thinking for a second, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go.

“Still, I’d better take you to Roth and see what he wants to do with you. Can’t have you running off to the cops and blowing up our whole operation.”

Clubs like these weren’t exactly legal. Along with the girls, they usually sold drugs and were the sort of place where you could hire a shady person to do below-board jobs.

To silence your screams, and to the amusement of a few of the monsters standing nearby with drinks, he slipped the tie from around his neck and tied it tightly around your head, before he stripped off his belt and used it to secure your hands. Then he flopped you over his broad shoulder, carrying you out of the larger room up a set of stairs. You bit on the gag, desperately trying to saw away at it with your teeth, but it was no use.

You couldn’t see, bouncing on his shoulder, but you heard a door open, and then you saw it shut.

“Tyre brought you a girl, boss,” he said.

Suddenly, he flopped you on the floor, forgetting you were a fragile human. You squealed as you hit the carpet hard, pain radiating up your side. Looking up, you froze in fear. The room was dim, the edges hardly visible, the only light a small lamp on a large wooden desk. Peering past the light, you met the gaze of two glowing, red orbs on the face of a dark body you could hardly make out. All you could tell was that it looked large.

“Why’s she tied up?”

The voice was almost a hiss, like silk sheets rubbing together.

“Tyre tricked her into coming here.”

The orbs disappeared for a moment, then appeared again along with a long sigh.

“That idiot.”

“What do you want me to do with her? Dump her? Put her on the floor? She’s pretty enough. She’ll make us some money.”

Your heart pounded, as your future was being discussed without you. Dump her?

“Leave,” the voice barked, sounding irritated.

You whimpered as you heard the heavy footsteps of the vampire leaving and the door slamming behind him. There was a rustling, and the big body behind the desk grew much larger. It wasn’t a shape you recognized, two large protrusions arching over either side of its head and then two more feathery-looking ones on top. Heavy steps echoed in the quiet room as it rounded the furniture and loomed over you.

A clawed hand emerged from the darkness, clutching your chin, slowly turning it from side to side as his red eyes examined you.

“Hmm. A little flame,” he purred.

You tried to scream again, but all that came out was a muffled whimper.

The protrusions jumped as the creature chuckled. The monster kneeled down next to you, and only then, you could make out his features, just barely. His neck was thick and fuzzy, as was his body, the angular slabs of muscles softened by a coating of black down. Up close, you could see the two side protrusions were actually silver wings, and the ones on top, were elegant antennae. They twitched as he looked you over. His facial features were invisible behind more black fuzz.

“I’ve been wanting a pet,” he said more to himself than you.

The red orbs narrowed to slits.

“Do you know what we do at this club?” he asked.

You’d gotten a pretty good idea when the vampire gave you the impromptu walk-through. So you nodded.

His lips cracked, and jagged white teeth glinted at you.

“Good.”

Clawed fingers slipped through your hair, scraping your scalp.

“You’ll be well fed and kept, but you are my pet. Mine.”

You let out another muffled squeal, shaking your head as tears tumbled down your cheeks. A thumb slid through the wetness before traveling to his red tongue.

“Mmm,” he said, smirking. “Even your tears are sweet.”

By that point, you were hyperventilating into your gag, the world getting spinny as you panicked. You’d started your night daydreaming about gargoyle babies, and now you were being adopted as some kind of fuck pet for a monster boss. Your breaths grew increasingly shallow until the darkness writhing at the edges of your vision merged into a large black spot, and the world went silent.

—

You jerked awake by the sound of screaming. The stone floor beneath your cheek was cold, so you sat up abruptly, only to awkwardly flop over onto your side. You were still gagged, but now you were bound by your ankles, as well as your wrists. The room you were in was dark except for a small lamp hanging from the ceiling. It put out just enough light to see the large figure of the mothman who’d taken you as his pet and an orc you didn’t recognize. You shrank back against the wall behind you, immediately afraid of what would come next, but their attention wasn’t on you.

Another scream pierced the air, making you wince. It sounded almost like…Tyre.

“Please! Please! She came willingly, I swear!” he said, his tone frantic, all the aloof coolness you’d crushed on erased.

“Did you tell her what we do here before you brought her?” the orc barked.

“She was dying to get her cunt pumped with monster cock. All those girls love that shit,” he spat. “She’s just a whore like the rest of them.”

“Tyre?” you murmured, but it only came out as a quiet grunt behind the gag.

Roth nodded at the Orc and you heard chain rattle, then a crunch as he whipped the heavy metal into Tyre’s face. For a moment, you almost felt redeemed. Like Roth might care about your honor, but his next words evaporated that thought.

“You know I don't like liars, Tyre,” he hissed, his voice still terrifyingly quiet and emotionless. “You brought me a problem. Now I've got to tie up a bunch of loose ends.”

You were shocked Tyre could still speak, though his words garbled.

“She's a slut! She wants it! Just ask her! She was ready to open her legs for me for nothing!”

Tears poured down your cheeks, hearing the gargoyle you'd been shyly admiring for a year now finally revealing what he really thought of you. He was just like your last monster “boyfriend” who’d dumped you when he realized you were more than just a doll to play with.

One night after hooking up, his phone started going nuts while he was sleeping. Unable to help yourself, you'd glanced at his texts, humiliated to find he'd been detailing his conquest to his packmates. You were just a joke.

A “monster-cock hungry slut,” in his words. You stupidly let him sleep peacefully through the night, only asking him about it in the morning. You remembered his sharp green eyes full of humor and his disgusting sneer when you'd confronted him.

“What'd you think this was? You really think a weak little human like you is good for anything but a quick fuck? Don’t fool yourself. You wanted my knot like a dirty little bitch in heat and I gave it to you. End of story.”

You broke into big, ugly, wet sobs as your whole world collapsed around you. Your body shuddered against the gritty cold floor, tears forming dark spots on the surface.

Across the room Roth’s antenna twitched. He gave the orc a look before crossing the room to crouch down next to you. He dug a thick hand into your hair, lifting your head. Your tears blurred his glowing eyes to wobbly blobs.

“You're crying for him? Is he telling the truth? Are we wrong to punish him?”

You sniffed, whimpering and shook your head. He dropped your hair abruptly, the gesture suddenly becoming something close to comfort. He patted your head a little stiffly as if he wasn't sure what to do with you.

You watched him blink, looking away for a moment before he scooped you up, curling his wings around the two of you. He carried you back across the room, turning your face into his soft chest before he spoke.

“I want his teeth when you're done with him,” he hissed at the Orc.

Tyre begged behind you, his voice brassy.

“She's lying! That bitch is lying!”

Roth didn't even flinch, striding confidently out of the room. As he carried you down a dark hall you heard screams following you until they finally faded.

Roth walked slowly up a long staircase until he reached an elevator. It occurred to you, every room you’d been in was dim, this elevator included, just light enough for someone with average eyesight not to trip over themselves.

Your stomach dropped as the elevator ascended, finally letting out an echoing DING when it reached the desired floor.

He stepped forward and you peeked out from behind his wing.

You were in a beautiful, but dark penthouse. Through the wall to wall windows you could see the stars of the night sky twinkling through. The furnishings were expensive, all black and chrome.

“Welcome home,” the mothman said, his voice ever soft.

He set you down on a black couch and you flinched as he crouched in front of you. His long nails picked at the knots binding your wrists and ankles until they were free.

The moment your limbs were your own again, you slid to the opposite side of the couch, frantically untangling the gag.

“Let me go!” were the first words that bubbled out of your lips.

Roth’s blood eyes narrowed at you. It was unnerving you couldn't really read his expression, his facial features obscured by dark fur.

“Go where?” he asked, calmly, his head tipped to the side. “I had my associates look into you. (Y/N), broke waitress, evicted…where will you go?”

Your cheeks burned that he knew so much about you.

“I don't know. Not here. Not a pet.”

“You'll live better here as a pet than on the street as a stray.”

You blinked and he was a few feet closer to you, stretching his long fingers out to drag a knuckle down your cheek.

“No matter. I'm not letting you go.”

You snorted.

“Until you get bored with me and toss me out again.”

His eyes became narrow slits.

“Did someone throw you out, (Y/N)?”

Your eyes burned into his, heavy with rage. This was just the cherry on your monster loving cake wasn't it? At least, he was honest and called you what you were to him. A toy. A pet. An object to break and throw away.

“It doesn't matter. You're all the same.”

You heard a hiss and then his claws pricked your cheeks, pinching your face. Bright eyes filled your vision.

“Are we?” He asked.

Your confidence faltered and you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“You own a human fetish club. Explain to me how I'm wrong. You see us as weak objects to be passed around.”

He bared his sharp teeth at you.

“You will not be passed around. You. Are. Mine.”

You drew your legs underneath your chin, glaring at him, but winced as a sharp pain shot through you.

“Ouch!”

His eyes widened and his fingers left your cheeks, clawing at the tight skirt you still wore. You tried to wiggle away, but his wing boxed you in so he could glide a thumb over your bare skin. It seemed impossible he could see anything in such a dark room, but he growled at the painful spot on your hip where you'd landed when the vampire dropped you.

“Don't!” you hissed, jerking your skirt down.

You watched his eyes open and shut, before he stood.

“Damian!” he said so softly, you weren't sure who he was talking to.

You jumped as an elegant Naga appeared, wiping his hands with a towel.

“You called, sir?” He asked his yellow eyes drifting to you only for a moment before they returned to Roth.

“Bring Vince. Make her some food.”

The Naga nodded sharply and disappeared.

He sat next to you on the couch, stretching his wings slowly and resting his forearms on the tops of his legs. Seeing him closely, now, you could see he was tall with broad shoulders, not including his massive wingspan.

“The girls I employ want to be here,” he said, turning his face to you. “They get paid well and they enjoy their work.”

“Is that your pitch?” you sneered.

He flashed his teeth, chuckling.

“No, you won't be working the floor, but you should know the facts,” he said. “Tyre broke a pact bringing you here. I don't kidnap humans.”

“Except me.”

“You're a unique situation.”

“I won't tell anyone if you let me go,” you promised.

He was hard to read, but you got the impression he was examining you.

“I'm not letting you go. I want you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” You blurted, your heart starting to race again.

Roth didn't have to answer as the elevator dinged and the vampire from before stepped out.

“You hurt her. Apologize.”

Vince’s eyes found you and his eyebrows rose. Giving the mothman a contrite glance, he crossed the room, bending down to one knee in front of you and dipping his head.

“Apologies, miss, I was too rough with you. It won't happen again.”

“Good. Get back to work,” Roth said, tone blunt.

“Have a pleasant evening, miss.”

Vince stood and winked at you with a little smirk, before he boarded the elevator again and disappeared.

“Come here, you need to eat,” Roth said, gesturing for you to follow him.

You wanted to say no, but you hadn't eaten, expecting a quiet dinner with Tyre so you slowly got to your feet and crept after him.

In the dining room Damian had set the table with a little flickering candle and red roses. Roth politely pulled out your seat for you, encouraging you to sit down. Though you were hungry, you glared at the food in front of you as he took his own seat.

“Something wrong?” he asked placing a napkin in his lap.

“How do I know you haven’t drugged this?”

“Why would I?”

You blinked at him, opening and closing your mouth as you thought of what accusations to spew.

“I don’t know! So you can have your way with me or whatever!”

Though you couldn’t see his lips, a triangle of teeth appeared as if he were smirking.

“I don’t need to drug your food to do that. Personally, I would rather my lover be conscious when I have her.”

You crossed your arms.

“How many lovers have you had?”

He snorted, picking up his knife and carefully cutting his meat into little cubes.

“That’s a rather personal question little flame,” he said, before sticking a bit of meat in his mouth and chewing. “What would you say if I asked you the same thing?”

Your cheeks burned, realizing it was a very rude question. His low, scratchy voice drove you insane. Every word he spoke was soft, deliberate, and calm. None of your fussing seemed to move him, much. Unsure what else to say, you turned your attention to your food. The first bite was apprehensive, but after you’d swallowed that, your hunger took over and you quickly consumed the rest.

“Damian is a good cook,” you commented.

“I can tell he’s happy to have someone new to cook for,” he said, scooting a vegetable out of the way with his fork. “I usually have the same thing every night but this is new.”

Your cheeks burned that he’d made such an effort, but with nothing left on your plate, you weren’t sure what to do next.

“Come with me,” he said rising.

You narrowed your eyes on the vegetables he’d left behind, only eating the meat, but followed him out of the room.

The penthouse was large and airy, the atmosphere perfumed with rows of night blooming flowers arranged in planters outside of the open glass doors.

“You keep the doors open?” you asked.

“Though I enjoy my luxuries, my people rested in trees for thousands of years. I like to feel the breeze,” he explained. “Don’t be concerned. You are very safe here. I have security posted everywhere.”

Your eyes jumped to your forehead hearing that.

“Are you often under attack?”

“My business is a dangerous one, but I’ve been at it for many years. You are safe. This is our room.”

He opened a heavy door and led you into a sumptuous bedroom. A four poster bed sat at the center with silver chiffon curtains fluttering in the breeze flowing in through the open balcony doors. Moonflowers and datura swayed on an arbor framing the entrance, the moon hanging in the center. It’s blue light cast a silver glow over the plush white chairs and vanity.

“Our room?” you gulped. “I have to sleep with you?”

He chuckled.

“I don’t sleep on a bed, usually,” he said. “My kind sleep upright on a perch. The bed is for your comfort.”

You shuddered, a dark thought passing through your head.

“H-how…how did you know you would need that?”

In the darkness, you followed his red eyes.

“Damian brought it up while you were resting.”

You wrinkled your nose. Collapsed from panic on a hard stone floor while he tortured Tyre was hardly resting. He suddenly turned to you, grabbing you by your waist and placing you gently on the bed.

“W-what are you doing?” you mewled as his claws curled around the edge of your skirt, scooting it further up your thigh.

He pinned you with a glance, before turning his attention to the bedside table and extracting a little pot. Opening it, he scooped some gel from inside and carefully smoothed it over the darkened bit of skin where a bruise was forming. It tingled, easing the slight ache.

His eyes lingered on the patch of skin, before his claws split the fabric.

“Stop! Stop it!” you screeched, trying to push him away with your smaller hands.

It was only then you really understood how strong he really was. He didn’t budge, but captured your wrists in a hand while the other shredded your sweater.

“I’ll buy you better clothes,” he assured you when you were sitting underneath him in only your underwear.

You regretted wearing your skimpiest pair, as you’d planned on seducing Tyre with them. Now you felt naked and vulnerable, the red light of Roth’s eyes outlining your curves.

He swallowed, heavily, making a small grunt in the back of his throat before he released you and stood.

“Sleep.” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “The sun is rising.”

Peering past him, you could see the sky getting ever so slightly lighter. He pressed a button and heavy blackout blinds lowered automatically. The sliding door slid shut, making the room pitch black except for Roth’s eyes still shining in the dark.

You let out a yip as his wings fluttered, stirring the air in the room and he delicately perched on the rail at the end of the bed.

“Are you going to watch me sleep all day?” you barked, crossing your arms.

“Yes.”

You sputtered your displeasure, but weren’t sure what to say. Hurriedly scooting under the coverlet, without meaning to you let out a satisfied hiss as you sank into the bed. Having slept on a droopy air mattress for many years, this bed felt like you were nestled in clouds. As much as you would have liked to stay awake, glaring at Roth until he went away, your eyes slid shut and you drifted off.

–

“Miss, miss,” you heard a voice in your ear.

You pried your eyes open, taking a moment to remember where you were. Sitting up suddenly, you were met with Damian’s yellow gaze.

“Time to wake up,” he said, “I have breakfast for you in the dining room.”

You blinked, realizing you could see him fairly well, and glanced at the windows to see the blackout blinds had been lifted and the sun was well on it’s way below the horizon.

“But it’s evening,” you muttered.

He smirked, slithering around you to open a door and then another.

“We operate on the boss’s clock here. Mothmen like the dark, they don’t see to well in the sunlight. Here, this is the bathroom and the closet is here. I spent the afternoon purchasing you some new clothes, but if you’d like something else, just tell me.”

“Oh, um…okay.”

Damian gave you a slight bow and slid out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Taking a breath, you climbed out of the coverlet, first examining the balcony. Standing just in the doorway, since you were still dressed in lingerie, you could see the whole city spread out before you, streetlights flicking on one by one as the sun set.

On the deck, along with the flowers, was a swinging chair and a small fish pond. You watched the white finned fish swimming in lazy circles below a few lotus flowers before you went back inside.

Poking your head in the bathroom, you found it was quite luxurious and to your surprise when you flicked the switch a real light turned on, not the dimmed bulbs everywhere else. Damian, you guessed, had stocked it with a fresh electric toothbrush and all the essentials. Oddly, there were either the exact products you had in your bathroom or the not value brand versions. Instead of the face cream you used, there was a high end cream you’d always dreamed of buying. The same with the makeup, hair supplies, and soaps. Satisfied you had what you needed, you crept into the closet.

It was one of those fancy closets, you’d seen in magazines with clothes arranged by color and an island in the center full of shelves holding jewelry, scarves, shoes, and-

A sharp scream burst from your lips.

Damian appeared in the doorway, out of breath as if he’d been slithering at top speed.

“What’s wrong?” he gasped.

You pointed a shaking finger at what was a multi compartment jewelrybox, but instead of jewels inside there were carefully arranged, polished, teeth. Hundreds of teeth.

“What the fuck is that?” you squealed, jumping behind Damian’s body as if he could shield you from them.

He let out a sharp breath, looking relieved.

“Heavens, I thought something was wrong,” he sighed.

Your eyes darted between him and the box of teeth.

“There IS something wrong! What the fuck?”

“That’s the boss’s collection,” he said.

“D-do those teeth come from people?” you whispered. “Are they real?”

Damian nodded as if that was the most perfectly normal thing in the world.

“He likes to collect the teeth of his enemies. It’s some mothman cultural thing. It’s kind of neat if you take a good look at them. There are specimens from several species.”

“He keeps them in his closet?”

“Where else would he keep them?”

You felt light headed and slumped against the vanity sitting just by the closet door. Were Tyre’s teeth already part of the collection?

“It’s part of his culture, (Y/N),” he said. “Children in your culture put their teeth under their pillow for their parent’s to collect. Think of it that way.”

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes.

“Please, please stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Is anything else the matter? Do you like your clothes?” he asked pleasantly.

“I-I didn’t get a chance to look.”

Damian nodded and slipped into the closet, returning with a handful of items.

“Why not wear this outfit,” he said. “I saw it on a Pinterest board and I think it will suit your figure.”

“Er…thanks,” you said, taking the pile as he slipped out of the room so you could dress.

You took a long shower, trying to clear your mind of the teeth cache you’d stumbled across. When it was finally time to put on clothes, you had to admit, the outfit Damian had chosen was quite stylish, though you looked a bit like a mafia wife with a diamond tennis necklace around your neck and matching bracelets on your wrist.

You crept down the hall to the dining room to find Roth waiting on you, surrounded by paperwork. You yelped when to his side you saw another monster you recognized handcuffed and gagged on his knees next to him. His nose was bloody and one eye was swollen.

“What the- Elijah…what?”

Roth’s eyes rose to you, lingering for a moment before he gestured towards your breakfast.

“Eat, your food is getting cold,” he murmured, turning his attention back to whatever he was working on as if the monster by his calf wasn’t eyeing you for help.

You hardly noticed if the fluffy pancakes Damian had provided were good or not, because you were trying to sort out what the monster “boyfriend” who’d jilted you a year ago was doing handcuffed in the dining room. It was hard to know where to look and words escaped you as your mind spun with messy thoughts.

Halfway through your meal, Roth gathered his stack of papers and tapped them on the desk to straighten them before he spoke.

“Now that that’s all done,” he said. “Time to other business.”

He stood, dragging Elijah by his collar along the table to you, leaning on it casually as if everything about this wasn’t very, very illegal.

“What would you like me to do with this one?” he asked, a clawed hand slipping through your freshly washed hair.

You stared up at him for a moment, a bite of pancake still half chewed in your mouth before you swallowed it hard. Your mind’s eye immediately went to the tooth collection in the closet.

“Um…I don’t know? What do you mean ‘do with him?’”

Elijah whimpered loudly, begging for mercy.

Roth’s eyes narrowed and he kicked him sharply to get him to sit still.

“Well, I can give him to my boys and have his teeth extracted or you can keep him around the club polishing the girl’s shoes if it makes you feel any better. They make a game of bullying miscreants. I’ll only take his fangs and claws if you’d like to show him mercy. But he’s not getting away without a punishment.”

He grabbed the werewolf, by the neck, his red eyes reflecting in Elijah’s green.

“Monsters like you make me sick. I ought to take your balls.”

He pried his lips apart, his thumb running over a fang. Though Roth’s voice was low, it was thick with a terrifying cruelty.

“All that power, all the gifts you’ve been given and you use them to trick the ones smaller than you. You could have had a willing human woman on her knees in front of you playing whatever games you like, but you get off on torturing the sweet ones.”

Elijah’s eyes were wide, full of terror. They flicked to you, begging for forgiveness.

“I don’t want you to kill him,” you said, your voice thin.

Roth looked up at you and tipped his head to the side.

“Pity.”

His eyes flicked down to his captive.

“I suppose you have a new job, hm?”

He narrowed his eyes again, head dipping down so he was close to Elijah’s snout.

“(Y/N) is very kind. I am not. If you get into trouble, I’ll take what’s left of your teeth and dump the rest of you in a ditch. Understand?”

Vince appeared from the shadows making you jump and dragged Elijah out.

“Have fun with the girls!” he called after him.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, glaring at Roth. “Yes, he broke my heart, but his fangs? His claws? Threatening to kill him?”

Roth slipped a knuckle under your chin, his eyes arcing in what must have been a smile.

“My job is not easy and my world is not kind. Strength and cruelty are sometimes required to take care of the ones who can’t help themselves. That’s the way things are.”

You huffed.

“You’re horrible.”

Fangs flashed in the dimming purple light streaming in through the window behind you.

“I’ll happily be horrible so you can always stay sweet. My methods may be unappetizing, but it’s worth is to see the truth reflected in your eyes. You deserve to feel justice.”

He leaned towards you, searching your gaze.

“And even if you won’t admit it, I can see that you do.”

Your eyebrows jumped and your ears burned.

“H-how did you even know about him?”

“I went through your text messages.”

“You have my phone? Give it to me!”

He shook his head.

“You haven’t properly settled in yet. I’ll give you a new one when you’ve come to accept your place here.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll soon get used to it. Come on.”

He beckoned you to get up, leading you towards the elevator.

“I have a use for you,” he said.

You flinched, narrowing your eyes at him as your heart tightened in your chest.

“What use?”

“The girls always have things they need. Some new brand of makeup comes out or melting spray, whatever that means. I have no idea, but I’m sure you do. Can you handle a budget?”

You nodded, more curious now that your “use” wasn’t anything alarming.

“All you have to do is receive their requests and figure out what we can afford to buy every month, what’s most important and all that. Then hand over your report and I’ll have one of the guys deal with the order. Simple enough?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

He patted you on the head and you peered up at him, trying to read his expression as the two of you landed on the first floor. The club was empty this early in the evening, except you could hear the titter of women through one of the doors that led to the back. A cyclops was restocking the bar, slicing limes and he nodded to you politely when you met his gaze.

Without writhing bodies, you could see that it was a very pretty place. Tufted benches in Navy blue velvet formed curved shapes housing glossy hardwood tables. The walls appeared to be some kind of fabric with an elaborate swag curtain arrangement softening the corners. The bar was a slick snake-like shape running along one wall, the liquor bottles lined up to the ceiling lit up by gold light.

A woman with bright pink hair came rushing through a side hallway, looking in her purse for something, almost slamming right into you.

“Oh sorry!” she squeaked, looking up.

Her eyes widened at you, then looked to Roth.

“New girlfriend, boss?” she asked, a sly smile growing on her face.

Glancing up at him, you couldn’t tell behind his black fuzz, but you almost thought he might be blushing.

“I’m Candy,” she beamed, shaking your hand.

Roth waved at you.

“(Y/N) will be taking your supply requests from now on,” he explained and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re putting your girlfriend to work?” she pouted, slipping an arm around yours and pulling you close. “Shame on you! You ought to spoil this rare blessing! You’ve been waiting long enough, haven’t you? You’re going to chase her away if you work her to the bone!”

“Candy!” he growled, obviously a little annoyed, but she just waved him away.

“Mr. Roth acts tough, but he’s got a gooey center,” she said, her bright eyes filled with mischief. “You’d better take him for all he’s worth! He’s been wanting a girlfriend for as long as anyone can remember, but never could find the right one.”

She winked at you.

“The girls and I like variety but Mr. Roth is so sentimental he can’t stand the idea of sharing. He’s always wanted one little flower to spoil. It’s so cute. You’re his first girlfriend, you know. He’s never brought another woman here. We would know if he did.”

“Oh!” you said, glancing back up to him.

You were sure he was blushing now, though you couldn’t see it.

“Jesus,” Roth grumbled, hiding his face with a clawed hand. “Aren’t you running late, Candy?”

She grinned.

“I can’t wait to tell the girls about this!” she chirped before she smooched you on the cheek and ran off.

Roth sighed, looking at you for a moment, before a thumb rose to your cheek and he rubbed away Candy’s lipstick.

“Don’t listen to her,” he grunted, turning quickly and leading you to his office. “The girls pretty much run this place and they get silly ideas in their heads. Meddlers, all of them.”

“I am I really your first girlfriend?” you asked his back as he walked into his office. “I’m not really your girlfriend, though. You said I was your pet.”

He plopped down at his desk, waving you over.

“It doesn’t matter what I call you,” he griped, grabbing you by your hips and setting you on his desk. “You’re mine.”

Your head tipped to the side.

“Why haven’t you had a girlfriend before? You’re rich and powerful. Don’t women fall all over you?”

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a tight breath.

“My kind mate once, for life,” he explained. “It’s very…serious. Most women don’t like that sort of…intensity hanging over their heads from the start.”

Your eyes widened, watching the stiff personality he’d been so carefully trying to cultivate melt in front of you.

“So you haven’t had any other lovers?” you asked.

He fiddled with the hem of your skirt, refusing to answer.

“Is that why you’re so hard on sleazy monsters?”

At that his eyes lifted to meet yours, and his thumb absently slipped over your thigh.

“Being so crass and careless is a sacrilege among my people. Breaking a soul who might be someone’s sacred mate is considered a crime punishable by death.”

You looked down at your fingers, suddenly feeling an ache in your chest. It should have been a relief, not a pain. He would get bored and let you go someday. Now you knew that for certain.

“Am I just a placeholder until your real mate comes along?” you whispered, the words slipping past your lips, though you tried so hard to keep them in.

He chuckled, lowering his head to fill your vision with his bright eyes.

“I just told you. We mate to one person only. I wouldn’t have brought you to my bedroom if I intended to have someone else.”

“Why didn’t you just say that? Why be so distant? You scared me. If you’d wanted to mate me, holding me against my will is not exactly how to start a relationship.”

At that his eyes avoided yours.

“Like I said…women tend to run when they find out we mate for life. Humans aren’t like us. Your kind have lots of different partners and you break partnerships when they no longer suit you. If I don't force you to stay with me, you might leave."

You had no idea what possessed you, but you placed a hand on his cheek and pulled his face towards you, forcing him to meet your gaze. Your fingertips sank into the soft fuzz and you liked the way it tickled your skin.

“Not all of us,” you whispered. “Some of us just want one person we can be with forever.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

The words left your lips on a silvery note.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He pulled you into his lap, curling his wings around the two of you.

“I can give you that, if you let me.”

A light giggle filled the little space for just the two of you.

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice,” you tittered. “You don’t plan on letting me leave.”

“No,” he murmured. “But if you stayed because you wanted to it would mean a lot to me. It’s okay if you don’t feel it now. I’ll spend our lifetimes trying to convince you.”

Your head tipped against his soft chest, feeling a strange giddiness a lady shouldn’t feel towards her kidnapper, especially one who had a large collection of the teeth of the people he’d murdered in his closet.

You were fairly certain monsters had driven you to madness. None of your dramatically swaying feelings made any sense… but your “enemies” had been defeated, you’d had the best sleep you’d had in a long time in a big comfy bed, and you were wearing half a million dollars in diamonds. Objectively, your quality of life had wildly improved from the day before when you were sitting on a dirty curb clutching fifteen dollars.

For the first time, you felt his soft lips against your forehead and your head tipped up, following them. When you pressed yours against his, you felt a shudder roll through his chest, making your skin tingle. His clawed hands slipped into your hair, holding your head in place while he explored.

You felt his breath fanning your face, panting into your kiss and underneath your fingertips his heart raced, causing yours to skip as well. An arm reached behind you and you heard sundry items clatter on the floor as he laid you out on his desk.

His tongue explored your mouth, tasting like cinnamon, as his fingers clutched your cheek. Fear and anticipation muddled your thoughts. Part of you was still unsure, but the other part knew it was too late for doubts. Your body was ready to surrender, panties damp and thighs sticky.

You gasped underneath him, his wings forming a silvery cave tinted with the glow from his red eyes. You ran your fingers through the soft feathers and felt him shudder with appreciation. Notching his body between your legs, he pulled only an inch away, looking at you.

“I will keep you no matter what, but this I will not take without permission,” he murmured. “Just know, if you accept me. I won’t tolerate competition. I’ll murder anyone who dares to touch you and take their teeth.”

Your cheeks burned, blinking at him through a heady veil of pleasure, his scent carrying notes of the moonflowers decorating his home. This was the key moment. You could refuse him and go back to being his reluctant captive…or you could become his.

“Okay,” you whispered, your heart answering the question before your still unsure mind. “I…ah…I accept you.”

His lips covered yours again as he let out a needy grunt, this kiss more desperate and claiming. You felt the prick of his sharp teeth as yours slid against his, the thrill of danger sending lightening bolts up your spine. You could feel the strength in his fingers as they moved over you and the weight of his body as he pressed you into the desk.

His claws curled around the neck of your blouse and he jerked ito down, exposing the tender breasts perched in your bra. You dragged in a heavy breath tasting oddly like cinnamon, the small space under his wings suddenly feeling thick with the scent.

Your body grew hot and sensitive, each brush off his soft fuzz making your skin tingle wildly. You suddenly felt light headed and needy, your mouth watering at the taste of his tongue.

“W-what’s happening?” you gasped when he pulled back to press kisses into your neck. “I feel hot…”

His hands cupped your breast as you felt his lips agonizingly brush your sensitive skin as he spoke.

“My pheromones are binding you to me,” he hummed and your heart skipped a beat.

“What?” you hummed, pushing your breasts into his big hands for more pressure.

“My pheromones are designed to make mating more pleasurable…to make me irresistible to you.”

You gasped, but your mind was getting ever hazier as the scent wound around you. Your hips bucked into his stomach, begging for what you wanted.

“Not yet,” he purred, pulling a tender nipple into his mouth. Colors exploded behind your eyelids, feeling more pleasure flood your system than you’d ever experienced before.

You’d had enough lovers and a few good orgasms, but this blew that all out of the water like a nuclear bomb and you hadn’t even cum yet. Your back arched and you screamed as his long, agile tongue curled around your nipple.

The slight prick of his claws bit your skin as his fingers played with the other one, alternating between teasing plucks and firm rolls. The small panties you wore were soaked through and your thighs ground against his hips for more friction. Every inch of skin felt as sensitive as your clit, the fuzz all over his body feeling maddeningly good against it. Your fingertips dug into the thick collar of fur around his neck, wanting to just rub him all over you.

He let our pleased hums as grunts as your fingers couldn’t decide where they wanted to be, one moment clutching his neck, then his head, then scratching at this chest. The room filled with your desperate mewls, begging him in slurred words for his cock.

“That’s right,” he murmured on a smug chuckle. “You’re all mine, little flame. Only I can give you what you need.”

His kisses trailed down your stomach, his soft, delicate antennae caressing your skin as he moved lower. Claws shoved your skirt off your hips, exposing your panties to him and his long tongue slid up and down your slit. You heard the sound of tearing fabric and then his breath on your sensitive lips. His tongue dipped inside of you and you suddenly understood the actual length of it, easily filling your weeping pussy.

“Roth!” you gasped, fingers looking for something to clutch and finding a few odd feathers to wrap in your grip.

You heard him hum as he licked you up, making your eyes cross as the vibration drew a blooming orgasm from your core. Whimpering, with tears streaming down your cheeks you felt the agile appendage lapping up your juices, while his thumb found your clit.

He circled it slowly, making your thighs tense so tightly you thought you might pop. Pleasure zapped you like a lightening bolt, the electricity lighting up every nerve until your whole body felt like it was cumming all at once. Your head dropped to the side, drool leaking over your cheek as your eyes rolled back in your head.

You weren’t sure you could take much more. Making love had never been like this. Your mind couldn’t process what his pheromones were doing to you.

Finally, Roth couldn’t hold back anymore, standing so he loomed over you, only his red eyes visible in the darkness. His fingers slipped past your open lips, holding you you in place as you felt his thick shaft investigate your pussy. It felt a little strange, your skin so sensitive it could make out every detail. Though velvety skin still covered it’s girth, the head was more elongated than a humans, ending at a slightly sharper angle with a pronounced ridge bisecting it. Smooth bumps formed a line running vertically along the shaft and something…or some things grasped your thighs like little fingers, holding them open. Your confusion as what was holding your legs apart melted away when he snapped his hips and his cock entered you.

A ragged roar filled your ears as he bottomed out inside of your channel. You could tell by the way the fingers in your mouth flexed, he was doing his best to hold back, not to hurt you. He was still for a moment, as he gathered his resolve, but you had other ideas, sucking on his fingers lewdly, your wet tongue tracing his claws.

He bent down on top of you, fingers fleeing your hot mouth and wrapping around your neck.

“Naughty girl,” he gasped as you bucked your hips, the little nubs lining his shaft making you whimper.

You could hardly see him, but you knew he could see you and you were getting annoyed with him trying to be gentle. Pulling your tits out of your bra, you kneaded them shamelessly, pressing the flesh against the arm holding your throat and arching your back so he couldn’t avoid the dirty show.

You couldn’t hold back your victorious smirk as he let out a hungry growl and his hips started to batter your soft flesh. His eyes disappeared into the darkness as instinct overtook him, rutting you wildly. Strong fingers tightened on your throat, only ratcheting up the spice swirling through every limb like a savage tornado.

Drowning in pure bliss, hot tears poured down your cheeks, your body jerking underneath his as he pounded into you. Nonsense poured from your lips, rational thought swept away in the storm. When the sensation reached it’s peak you felt like your body might shatter into a million pieces and you welcomed the oblivion that overtook you. Body shuddering violently as you fell over the edge.

Your wet, needy cunt, clamping down on Roth’s cock so suddenly made his body respond in the way it was designed. His shaft suddenly inflated to twice it’s original girth, stretching you decadently before he cursed and you felt ropes of searing cum splash against your sucking walls.

You could hear heavy panting and it took you a moment to realize it was your own breath. Roth let out a long, groaning sigh, his body slumping on top of yours, only stopped by a strong arm bracing the desk.

His bright red eyes returned, looking somehow more entrancing than before. Everything about him seemed…more. His cinnamon, flower laced scent stuck to you and his soft fur felt luxurious. Even the sound of his ragged breaths tickled your ears in a sumptuous way.

“You’re…different,” you muttered, brain having trouble putting words together.

He let go of your throat, a thumb brushing your bottom lip as his hand clutched your cheek.

“My pheramones have soaked into your body,” he purred. “You’re mine now. I’ve marked you.”

“Oh,” you hummed, eyes slipping shut, as you felt the aftershocks of your love making roll over you.

Whatever little claspers were holding your legs retreated and as his cock slipped out of you, cum and slick splashed on the wood floor.

He scooped you into his arms, pulling you into his lap as he peppered soft kisses on your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked, fingers, absently stroking your hair.

“Mhmm,” you hummed. “Will it always be like that…now that you’ve marked me?”

“Yes,” he said, twirling a bit of hair around his finger. “Now that we’re bonded…I can’t control my pheremones. They…have a bit of a mind of their own and their purpose now is to reinforce the bond.”

A knock at the door sobered you a bit as you tugged your shirt back up to cover your boobs.

“Who is it?” he called, still so quiet you weren’t sure how anyone heard him.

“Vince,” said the vampire on the other side of the door.

“Is it an emergency?”

“No.”

“Go away.”

“Got it, boss.”

He tucked the bit of hair he was twirling behind your ear and smiled.

“Do you want a snack?”

Your eyes met his with all of the earnestness in the world.

“Yes. I would love that!”

He pulled out his phone and texted someone before setting you back on his desk and leaning back in his chair, looking deeply satisfied and proud of himself. You flopped over on your stomach, kicking your heels in the air and resting your chin on your arm.

“Do we have to work now?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him.

He looked at you for a moment before answering.

“No…What do you want to do?”

“I kind of want to get to know you a little better…Since I’m bonded to you or whatever.”

“Okay,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head. “What do you want to know first?”

You blinked at him.

“Why do you have hundreds of teeth in your closet?”

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dreamauri · 1 month

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♪ — 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗟𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗦 sebastian vetteln x fem! italian! reader (fluff) “. . . in whixh neither iof you speak the smae language, but can still understand each other through petals. you might not speak german and he not italian, but who can't speak flower?”

( master list | more of sebastian vettel ) ( requests | taglist )

Seb closed his eyes, freezing in his spot. he felt you gently brush his hair from in front of his face and clip the locks with the rest of his hair on his head.

When he opened his eyes again he couldn't look away from you, watching you brush the rest of his golden locks behind his ear gently. "Sembri così carino." [you look so cute] you giggled once you looked at the finished result. Sebastian vettel in a red apron holding a the batch of soil that still held the shape of the pot from which it was recently removed, with his hair pinned to the top his head with a hello kitty hair clip leaving his forehead exposed,

"danke." he mumbled with a little nod, trying to supress a smile which only resulted in an upside down smile. The blond didnt even realize he was staring, watching you go back to tending the garden until his mom jolted him out of his trance.

Spring was coming and your aunt decided to invite the her friend next door for a brief exchange of soil since she had extra and Heike Vettel could work a little on her own garden as well. This is where things get fluffy.

It was the moment Sebastian heard his mom mention the house across did his brain turn into mush and heart beat in rush.

the poor boys thoughts got up tangled up he swore he could hear his mom calling him to go with her because he was already putting his shoes on. And he did end up going with her because what kind of mom would Heike be to look her son in his big gorgeous blue eyes when he's all joyful and and say no?

"Es ist eine Überraschung, dich zu sehen, Sebastian." [a surprise to see you, sebastian] he greeted the middle aged woman back polietly as the two women went off to the kitchen. Slipping his shoes off, the blond went to follow when his eyes caught motion outside the back glass doors.

You're here. Now Seb's heart was truly pacing, seeing the sight of you gave him a sense of relief and anxiety. The italian girl that comes and spends the spring with her aunt every spring, thats what Sebastian knew you as. Every spring, once a year since he was a kid, you'd come over.

He remembers swinging at a park when he was 10 with his friends when he only really went there because he knew you'd be there riding your bike that day. Or that time he was 14 and instead of working on his kart inside the garage he worked in front because he wanted to impress you when you walked by.

Now that he was 19, he should probably do something about it. but the gust of the anxiety in his blood wasn't letting him, so he just stood by the sliding door a watched as you gently tend to the growing garden, removing plants from the pots and adding them in the raised bed.

Seb thought you looked beautiful and elegant, tending to nature and decorating the little garden despite it not being that big or having much to work with. And when you noticed him and called for help ( he assumed since he didn't speak italian and didn't understand your instructions ), Seb found himself in the apron, helping you preen flowers or add them to bed or pots or decorate little corners with stones.

This was fun. And what his mother found funny was the fact that his nature as a driver makes seb constantly keeps his hands clean - which is the total opposite of the situation he's in at the moment, fingers all dirty with soil stuck under his fingernails.

"Sebastian!" The blond jolted, looking back at his mom who couldn't help but laugh at his appearance. She left him out of his sight for 40 minutes and finds him barefoot and admist labour, holding a little pink carnation with his bangs held up with a hello kitty clip.

If it was any other woman, the blond would've ripped the clip out, washed his hands and feet and walked right out with his mom. If it were any woman he wouldn't even be helping her garden or letting her touch his hair. But this was you, the nice and kind and graceful- he could go on, but the point is that Seb found himself lucky- blessed even that you went out of your way to make sure that he was comfortable and not hurting his eyes.

Sebastian tried to hide the embarrassment looking away. He wasn't supposed to look so . . . whatever softie he looks like right now. "lass uns gehen." [lets go] his mom waved, tried to hold in her giggles. "Nein, nein, verlass ihn, sie haben Spaß." [no no, leave him, they're having fun] your aunt defended, also trying to supress her joy.

Seb huffed, furrowing his eyebrows ready to say something to defend his reputation but the words never left his mouth and his eyebrows uncreased quickly and eyes his eyes softened.

"Prenderò questo, si stresserà se rimane in aria troppo a lungo." [i'll take this one, it'll get stressed if its out in the air too long] whatever you said, seb agreed with you, gently and carefully handing over the pink flower, his hands and fingers brushing against your a few times, which might have been on purpose.

"Komm lass uns gehen. Lassen Sie die Arbeit im Stück." [come on, lets go. leave y/n work in piece] The blond sighed, stepping off the greenery and onto the pavement to hose his legs off as your aunt walked his mom to the door. "fermati di nuovo qualche volta." [stop by again sometime] he didn't even realise you'd walked right up to him. He gave you a little smile, still having no idea what you were saying but understanding your intentions.

if Sebastian could blush anymore than he already was, he would. You putting a little flower on his ear did it for him, and the smile you had as well as you waved before getting back to work.

Sebastian couldn't erase the smile of his face, looking at the flower in his room all giddy like a girl in a romcom. He went to dinner and back, sitting at his desk and admiring the plant. It was a while before he realized something.

FLOWERS HAVE MEANINGS! Seb remembers seeing a book with the title having the word that looks language. LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS!!

If Haike vettel didn't know something was up, she did now. "Wohin gehst du?" [where are you going] she asked, standing in the kitchen to ready dinner. "der Bibliothek." [the library] Seb answered as he ran jumped down the stairs and jumped into his shoes, shouting a bye before shutting the door after him.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"ähm … Hallo." [uhm, hi] The blond greeted shyly once you opened the door. You greeted him with a smile and a 'ciao'. The feeling of seeing your eyes light up once he held up the pot with the purple flowers. Morning glory was the flower. 'affection' was the meaning, to reply to your 'you're lovely'

"sono adorabili." [they're lovely] you smiled widely taking them politely once he held them out for you, leaning in to smell a flower from the bunch. Sweet. it took you a second before it clicked in your head. The blush and bashful smile told Seb what he needed.

that was the first time seb gave you flowers, and definitely not the last. You received them often, even when you're in italy. the boy never seized to surprise you. it started off simple like blue salvia (thinking of you) up till pink Camilla (longing for you). Seb remembers that pink Camilla day very well, the 2008 Italian grand prix.

He made a call to the florist near you Friday night before and spent the morning worrying if you received the flowers or even understood them. He remembers sitting in his torro rosso on Sunday morning, playing with the hello kitty hair clip you gave him the year prior, fidgeting with it as it sat on his fireproof sleeve from under his race suit so he could sneakily wear it throughout the grand prix and maybe get a little luck to win the race he was starting from pole, in front of all the other hungry sharks.

his favourite part about that weekend was winning the grand Prix with you watching, kissing the camera which he wished was you. He won your home grand prix, what possible flower could be waiting for him when he gets home?

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Despite already moving out from his parents home by at this point in his formula one, Sebastian still went back. Spring was on its way and so were you.

You remember this day very well, you hadn't even finished unpacking when the doorbell rang. You didn't even have to check to see who it was, you were already running down the stairs and pulling the door open. Yours eyes lit up upon seeing the blue eyed blond, a giggle falling from your mouth as you stepped aside to let him in.

as he stepped inside, Sebastian pulled the small packet of seeds from behind his back. Yellow tulips. The way your smile light up your face as you excitedly pulled him to the garden before he could take his other shoe off.

Seb wansn't sure if he picked the right flower. he's been standing at the local florist for an hour or so with his now little own language and archive of flowers book, trying to find the correct flower.

theres sunshine in your smile , desperate love , hopeless love

sebastian sighed internally, watching you walk around the garden in progress. He put a smile when you returned. You held out your hands for him, and he complied letting you give him the jonquil.

returned affection , love me , desire

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Ciaaaaao." You called out through the the flower shop once you heard the entrance door ding. You stepped out from behind the counter, feeling the whole room light up at the sight of your blond, hiding his face a boquet of tulips.

"Seb!" you giggled stepping towards him making the boy peak from behind the petals, a wide smile on his face. he giggled happily lowering the bouquet, welcoming you in a hug. red tulips? you thought, squeezing him in the hug briefly before pulling away and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

declaration of love

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Y/N," Sebastian called gently, making you peel your eyes away from the stand of fruits in the busy farmers market. You looked to your husband eho had an exited smile holding something behind his back.

"what are you hiding?" you scolded, trying to see, only to be met by a gorgeous a pot of jasmine. "Sebastian," you scolded, making the grown man pout. "What are we going to do with a jasmine tree? We have a whole meadow at home."

"Read the flowers," Seb scolded back playfully, nudging you. he'd think that after 12 years of marrige youd still have all the meanings memorized.

unconditional and eternal love

"i think the bees will like these peaches, can you get me strawberries for the bumble bees? potted ones." "or we could just grow them." Sebastian countered as he walked away only to be pulled back gently.

He smiled widely upon seeing you gently tuck a forget-me-not and a primrose in his hair above his ear. "very well then." the blondie kissed your cheek before going to get the things you asked for.

eternal love , true love , i cant live without you

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