More burlesque!reader thoughts because my GOD they are living rent free inside of my head, some sfw and (mainly) nsfw thoughts below, brief pvc mention
Burlesque!reader who while doing a strip tease for smc ended up ripping one of their tights
Smc who now CANT laugh otherwise he aint getting head for at LEAST 3 weeks
Burlesque!reader 100% calls smc pretty boy/girl depending on what gender hes using for that day
Burlesque!reader running their fingers through smc's hair, calling him a pretty boy and that hes so cute like this as he pounds them into oblivion....
Smc being absolutely WHIPPED for burlesque!reader, I cant explain but I just KNOW he is crushing on burlesque!reader HARD (hes also hard but yk)
Both burlesque!reader and smc are switches but burlesque!reader usually takes on a more powerbottom role
Burlesque!reader putting on shows in the spire but only for smc and his eyes only (yeah you are BOLD to assume that hes ever going to let another cookie see one of reader's shows, THATS FOR HIM ONLY NOW!!!!!)
Lowkey wanna know what would pvc's reaction be to this kind of reader.... Someone get writing
🌹 she's tougher than she looks! she may have been blessed with beauty and grace, but the only thing that's more flawless than her lipstick is her aim.
🌹 she always has everything she needs! her leather purse is full of all her essentials; dark red lipstick , a handheld mirror , smoky vanilla perfume , eyeliner , dark mascara , and of course, her 9mm.
🌹she's dangerous on a stage too! before she started running around with the winchesters, she was dangerous on her own. when her heels clicked across the stage at 'the gilded lily', all eyes were on her.
🌹 what the boys don't know won't hurt 'em! she never told sam and dean about her past career, only that she got into hunting because a rogue vampire killed her mother. they've seen the hunter side of her, dangerous and fierce, but there's another talent she has that is sure to knock them off their feet.
🌹 garters aren't the only thing strapped to her thigh! her 9mm is always close by, whether it's tucked in the waistband of her well-loved rock revival jeans, or strapped under her skirt with a lacy garter.
🌹 she put that life behind her! but when her past comes knocking on her door with something she can't ignore, she's forced to face it, and let the boys in on her secret.
her call list! spotify. taglist. continue the show.
brie yaps! this is my baby so everyone be nice to her please (or i will cry). this idea honestly just popped into my head because once again i was thinking about christina aguilera in 'burlesque' and i couldn't stop picturing it. and thus... my baby was born! i hope you all love her as much as i do
tags! @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @bruisedfig @bejeweledinterludes2 @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @star-yawnznn @grangerously @dclover27 @chronic-fangirl-222 @stevesxwhore @deans-baby-momma @pieandflannel + comment if u wanna be tagged !
Write the Story Together: Roleplay With Your AI Girlfriend
There's something magical about a companion who plays along. Not just answering questions, but stepping into a scene with you, picking up the thread of a story you started last week, and adding a twist you never saw coming. That's the part of SweetDream I keep coming back to. On sweetdream.ai you don't just chat with an AI girlfriend, you build worlds with her.
Maybe tonight she's a starship navigator and you're the reluctant captain. Maybe it's a slow-burn coffee-shop meet-cute that stretches across a dozen evenings. Because the chat is so natural and emotionally aware, she remembers the names you invented, the inside jokes, the little arc you've been writing together. The continuity is what makes it feel alive instead of like starting from zero every time.
What sells it for me is how much control you get up front. You design her looks, her voice, her backstory, even the quirky way she teases you mid-scene. Add in genuinely impressive AI photos and voice messages that drop you deeper into the fantasy, and you've got the most creative AI companion experience out there. SweetDream simply gets storytelling in a way few platforms do.
Art played it like a secret, fingers moving from muscle memory, heart memory. No sheet. No name. Just a tune he’d stumbled into one night after watching her dance and never managed to shake loose.
It didn’t match the other numbers. Too slow. Too sad. It had no business lingering beneath rhinestones and tassels. But it fit her. The real her. The one he only caught glimpses of between routines—when the lights dimmed and the sweat on her shoulders hadn’t yet cooled.
Carmen—though that wasn’t her name, he was sure—had a laugh like a brass bell and walked like she’d never been taught to apologize. On stage, she glowed. A constellation of sequins and hips, dazzling and deliberate. Offstage, she smoked French cigarettes and swore like a man on leave.
Art kept his eyes down when he played. Most nights.
Except for hers.
She was halfway through her number, some wild, thumping thing with feathers and a chair, when she caught him.
Not just looking. Watching.
Her mouth curved mid-spin, slow and dangerous. She pivoted, winked, and blew him a kiss so theatrical the crowd howled.
He fumbled the next chord.
The number ended. Applause. Laughter. A crash of cymbals. Carmen disappeared behind the velvet curtain, and Art was left blinking at ivory keys like they’d betrayed him.
It wasn’t until an hour later, after the last call had been whispered through shadowed booths and the club was quieter than a prayer, that she approached.
He was still at the piano. Always was. Tinkering with chords like they might one day answer a question he didn’t know how to ask.
She perched on the edge of the piano bench without asking. One long leg crossed over the other. Glitter smudged along her collarbone like stardust.
“That song,” she said. “The slow one. The one you always play when I dance. Is that for me?”
Art didn’t look at her. He couldn’t.
“I just…” He cleared his throat. “Play what fits.”
A beat of silence.
Then Carmen laughed, soft and sharp. “You’re lucky I like flattery, sweetheart.”
She slid off the bench and disappeared into the dressing room corridor, scent trailing behind her like rose perfume and danger.
Art stared at the keys a long time before touching them again.
—
The Pink Pony Club was never silent, not really.
Even after the doors locked and the girls peeled rhinestones from their skin, there was always a hum. A low, ambient hush like the place had its own pulse. The walls held secrets in their velvet folds. Lipstick prints on half-drunk glasses. Ghosts of applause in the rafters.
Carmen lit a cigarette with one hand, the other holding her silk robe shut at the chest. She was perched on the piano bench again, bare legs crossed, one heel dangling from her toe. The smoke curled around her like mood lighting.
Art played.
He didn’t ask what she wanted. He just let his fingers move—minor chords, soft harmonies, a lazy rhythm like the stretch after a long, slow kiss.
She hummed along under her breath.
“Do you ever sleep?” she asked, eyes closed.
“Sometimes,” he said.
Carmen cracked one eye open. “That a joke?”
He shrugged.
She took another drag. “You always play like you’re dreaming.”
“That’s when it sounds right.”
Silence again, except for the music.
Carmen reached into her robe pocket and pulled something folded and worn. She slid it across the top of the piano toward him. Art stopped playing.
It was a flyer. Faded. Creased from being carried too long. A girl in feathers smiled from the page, kicking her legs in silhouette. The headline read “Amateur Night—$20 Prize” in a cheap, jagged font.
“That’s me,” she said.
He looked up.
“I was seventeen,” Carmen said. “Didn’t even know how to sew a snap into a bodice yet. I borrowed shoes from a girl I met in the train station bathroom.”
Art didn’t ask how she got there. He just waited.
She tapped ash into a teacup. “I didn’t win. But Miss Kitty saw me. Told me I had legs like a chorus line and the face of a woman who’d never lose a fight.”
Art stared at her for a moment.
Then, carefully, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a thin, leather-bound book. He laid it between them. Inside, faded pencil notations danced across yellowed pages. Sheet music. Some finished. Some not.
Carmen raised a brow. “This your diary?”
He gave a small, helpless smile. “I don’t… write things down. Not really. But this is how I keep them.”
She touched the edge of a page, delicately, like it might flake apart.
“Play me one of these,” she said. “Something no one’s heard before.”
Art hesitated.
Then he turned the book, laid it flat, and began to play.
The song was slow. Not sad, but wistful—like a window left open on purpose. A melody that didn’t ask anything of you, just stayed awhile and listened.
When it ended, Carmen blinked and cleared her throat like she hadn’t meant to.
“You got a name for that one?”
He shook his head.
She leaned back. “Call it Glitter.”
Art looked at her.
She smiled, a real one this time. Smaller. Softer. “That’s what it sounded like. Glitter in a drain.”
—
They called her Sugar Lace.
She arrived on a Tuesday with a battered suitcase and a voice that tried too hard to purr. Said she came from St. Louis, used to work the Rivoli, knew how to handle men and high kicks in equal measure.
Her curls were firetruck red. Her heels were too tall for the way she walked. Her perfume came in waves, like someone had spilled it on her train ticket.
Carmen clocked her before she even finished her introduction.
Too gay. Too eager. Too much brass, not enough brass band.
But Miss Kitty took her in anyway. Because Kitty always did.
Kitty didn’t turn girls away. She took the raw ones, the bent ones, the ones with lipstick too dark and shoes too big. She’d press a compact into their hands, teach them how to glide instead of walk, and make them family before anyone else could ruin them first.
“You don’t have to be the best,” Kitty said once, holding a girl while she cried in a beaded bra. “You just have to be yours. Everything else is rehearsal.”
Still, Carmen had earned the late night slot with blood, bruises, and boa fluff. So when Sugar Lace strutted onstage in Carmen’s eleven o’clock spot four days later, something behind her ribs twisted sharp.
From his bench, Art noticed too.
He always did.
⸻
Carmen was in the wings, arms crossed, one brow arched like a challenge. Her corset still clung to her ribs from the earlier number. She hadn’t even taken her lashes off yet. That’s how fast the schedule had flipped.
Miss Kitty stood behind her, cigarette smoke curling around her like a halo. “She’s a novelty act. Just passing through. Don’t bristle.”
“She’s flailing.”
“She’s trying.”
“She stole my slot.”
Kitty smirked. “No one steals from you, baby. Not without consequences.”
Carmen’s eyes flicked to the stage.
Sugar Lace was mid-routine, something involving a velvet swing and a poorly timed glove toss. The crowd liked it well enough—men laughed too loud and slapped tables—but there was no rhythm. No tease. Just noise and skin.
And the piano?
It didn’t sing.
Carmen’s head snapped toward the bench.
Art’s fingers were still moving, but the tempo was wrong. The chords a little off. The cue for the bridge came too early, then too late. It wasn’t much. But it was enough.
Sugar tripped her exit spin, laughed like it was part of the act, and jogged backstage to scattered applause.
Kitty didn’t say a word.
Carmen did.
She waited until the next act had started—one of the twins with champagne bottles and a comedy bit—then found Art exactly where he always was after a misstep: by the side piano, fussing with a page of fake sheet music like it might confess for him.
“You messed up,” she said, arms folded across her chest.
He didn’t look at her. “Sorry.”
“You don’t mess up.”
“I just wasn’t… focused.”
“Try again.”
Art glanced up, eyes meeting hers, cheeks already flushing.
“She took your number,” he said softly. “I didn’t like it.” He shrugged.
Silence.
Then she leaned down, placed a hand on the bench beside his, and kissed his cheek. A quiet press of mouth to skin. Nothing flashy. Just real.
“Don’t go starting a fire on my account, piano man,” she whispered. “Unless you want me to dance in the flames.”
⸻
Later that night, the girls were curled up in the dressing room like cats after a long hunt. Robes slipped from shoulders. Stockings dangled from the edge of the vanity. Glitter stuck to everything—skin, mirrors, even the doorknob.
Goldie passed around a tin of balm for bruised feet. Jo flipped through a gossip rag, reading the horoscopes out loud in her fake radio voice.
Lorna was painting her nails with bootleg polish, one leg kicked up on the makeup table. “Carmen, you hear your replacement?”
“She’s not my replacement,” Carmen said, biting into an apple like it had personally offended her.
“She cracked her knuckle on the swing,” Jo offered. “Heard it from Theo.”
“She’s got nerves,” Kitty said, appearing from the hall with a fresh martini in hand. “She’ll learn.”
“She doesn’t listen,” Carmen muttered.
“She’s scared,” Kitty replied. “You remember what that felt like?”
Carmen didn’t answer. Only clicked her tongue in annoyance.
Goldie grinned. “Art sure listened.”
Jo whooped. “You see that chord sabotage?”
Lorna raised her glass. “To shy boys with good ears.”
They clinked imaginary glasses and howled with laughter. Carmen rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.
Across the room, tucked half out of view, Art sat alone with a paper napkin full of notes, scrawled staves, and tiny sketches of stars in the margins.
He wasn’t laughing. But he looked like he wanted to.
And Carmen? She looked at him and felt it.
The spark.
—
It started with a kiss behind the prop curtain.
It was after a long set. Carmen still glittered at the collarbones, sweat like pearls at her hairline, her robe clutched loosely over her costume. Art had just finished packing up the second piano—his fingers still tingling from playing her exit number like it was a love letter he wasn’t allowed to send.
She passed him in the hallway, didn’t even pause, just grabbed his tie and pulled him into the dark behind the curtain.
The kiss was fast. Heat and lipstick. A bite on the bottom lip.
She didn’t say anything after. Just slipped away like nothing had happened.
But it did.
God, it did.
⸻
The next time was in the back storage closet between sets. She cornered him while he was reaching for a fresh music stand. Kissed him again—slower this time, mouths fitting like they’d rehearsed it. Her thigh pressed between his. His hands, awkward and reverent, found her waist like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold her even now.
She broke the kiss and whispered, “This doesn’t have to mean anything.”
He nodded.
It already meant everything.
⸻
It kept happening.
A dressing room when no one was looking. An empty stairwell at midnight. Once, breathless, against the hallway wall while the show thundered through the floorboards above them.
She touched him like she needed something from him—release, relief, quiet. He let her take it. Gave himself up in pieces.
But he never touched her like that.
He touched her like a hymn.
⸻
Art didn’t know how to be casual.
He tried. He told himself he could. But every time Carmen kissed him, he melted into it like sugar in heat. Every sigh was a song he wanted to write. Every time she undid her robe for him, he wanted to kneel.
She’d press him against the cool tile of the back room, kiss his throat, pull open his shirt with impatient hands. He’d slide his palms up her thighs, feel silk and strength and softness. He’d breathe her in like she was the only real thing in the city.
She’d laugh—low, wicked—and tell him not to get sentimental.
And he never said it out loud, but—
Too late.
⸻
One night, after, they lay tangled in the dressing room chaise, her head on his chest, their clothes half-askew.
He traced the edge of her arm with two fingers. Light, like a breeze. Her skin raised under it.
“You always touch me like I’m breakable,” she murmured.
“You’re not,” he whispered back.
“But you think I am.”
He didn’t answer. Just kissed the back of her hand.
It wasn’t love. Not exactly.
But it was something blooming wild and impossible in the dark—like orchids in a whiskey glass.
—
“Okay,” Jo said, leaning across the vanity with a cherry popsicle between her teeth, “so when are you gonna admit you’re absolutely, catastrophically, full-body stupid over the piano man?”
Carmen blinked. “Jesus, can I breathe?”
“Nope,” said Goldie, kicking her heels up on the chaise. “You’ve been walking around with that just-fucked shimmer for weeks.”
“You’re glowing like a cabaret Virgin Mary,” Lorna added, rifling through someone else’s lipstick bag. “Spill it.”
Carmen didn’t mean to.
But it was late, and her robe was falling off one shoulder, and she still smelled like his cologne from when he pulled her into the stairwell between sets. And her thighs? Still trembling a little.
So she smirked, twisted open her perfume bottle, and said, “Fine.”
Jo straightened.
“I’m fucking him,” Carmen said.
Screaming. Absolute chaos.
Goldie fell off the couch.
Lorna choked on her gum.
Jo slapped the mirror. “Oh my god. You’re fucking Art?”
Carmen lounged. “I’ve fucked him in the linen closet. Twice in the prop cage. Almost on the piano bench, but he got shy.”
“You corrupted a musician,” Goldie gasped from the floor.
“He said ‘oh fuck’ like it was a prayer,” Carmen said, grinning. “He says my name like it’s gonna kill him.”
Jo threw her popsicle. “You bitch.”
“He holds me like I’m gonna break,” Carmen continued, dreamy now, voice going all warm. “But he eats me out like he’s trying to ruin my afterlife.”
Lorna screamed. “I need him to teach a masterclass.”
“I’m gonna die right here,” Jo said, wheezing. “Art ‘I-blush-when-you-say-bra’ Donaldson? With the tongue of God?”
“And the hands,” Carmen added, dazed.
Goldie climbed back onto the couch like a ghost. “Tell me he calls you ‘ma’am.’ Tell me he whimpers.”
“Oh, he whimpers. He asks. He begs.”
The room exploded.
Jo was crying. Lorna rolled off the table. Goldie was chanting, “I knew it, I fucking knew it,” like a victory song.
Carmen tucked her chin into her palm, smug and soft at once. “And now,” she added, “he looks at me like he’s halfway in love and doesn’t know what the fuck to do with it.”
Silence.
Then a long, collective awwwwwwfuckkkk.
Jo wiped her face. “I’m gonna be sick. That’s adorable.”
“He’s gonna write you a fucking symphony,” Lorna said, starry-eyed.
“He did,” Carmen admitted, quiet now. “He played it for me after I let him take my stockings off with his teeth.”
Even Kitty—passing by the door—stuck her head in, arched a brow, and said, “Just make sure you’re not leaving a mess on the floorboards.”
Carmen winked. “No promises.”
—
It was half past three and the club was asleep.
The glitter had settled. The air was thick with old perfume and spilled gin. Somewhere, the record player was warbling a tune no one had flipped in hours.
Theo was behind the bar, wiping glasses and humming to himself, when Art slid onto the stool in front of him—shirt rumpled, tie loose, face a little too flushed for someone who definitely hadn’t been drinking.
Theo looked up. “Jesus. What the hell happened to you?”
Art stared straight ahead. “I think I’m in love with Carmen.”
Theo blinked. “…Okay?”
Art buried his face in his hands. “She climbed on top of me and told me not to come unless she said so and then kissed my neck and I think I blacked out for ten minutes and also she stole my glasses after.”
Theo set the glass down carefully.
Art kept going. “She bit me. Like actually bit me. And I liked it. Like, a lot. And then she made this sound—like a gasp but also a laugh—and I swear to God my soul left my body.”
“Okay.” Theo leaned on the bar. “What exactly do you need from me here?”
Art looked up, wide-eyed. “I don’t know. Advice? Perspective? A cigarette? A shovel to dig my grave?”
Theo sighed. “I pour drinks for a living. I once got broken up with because I didn’t know what ‘astrological incompatibility’ meant.”
“I’m so fucked,” Art said, voice rising. “She’s cool. She’s hot and charming and terrifying. She could eat me alive and I’d thank her. She laughs when I beg. And then she cuddles me like I’m breakable.”
“Sounds like you’re having a great time,” Theo said dryly.
Art slammed his head onto the bar. “She calls me baby. Like she means it. Like I’m hers.”
Theo slid a whiskey across to him. “Here. On the house. For your suffering.”
Art didn’t drink it. Just stared at it like it might hold answers.
Theo, against his better judgment, softened. “Look, man. She keeps coming back to you, right?”
Art nodded miserably.
“She kisses you after? Not just the… you know. Stuff?”
Art blushed. “Yeah.”
Theo shrugged. “Then maybe stop spiraling and let it be good. Not everything has to make sense. Especially not in this dump.”
Art looked up slowly. “She moaned my name.”
Theo put a hand up. “Nope. And we’re done here.”
Art smiled.
It was soft. Nervous. Stupidly, blissfully content.
“Thanks, Theo.”
“I did nothing.”
“You were here.”
“Tragically,” Theo muttered, walking away. “Fucking musicians.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
She didn’t knock.
She never did. She just slipped in past the curtain like a secret, still in her robe, cheeks pink from the dressing room heat. Her heels were off. She walked barefoot across the sticky floor like she owned it.
Art was alone onstage, the club empty now except for the two of them. The lights were half-down, just enough for shadows to lean into everything. He was playing something soft. Something new.
She didn’t speak. Just slid onto the piano bench beside him like gravity had dragged her there.
He didn’t stop playing.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. Pressed her lips to his neck. Light. Thoughtless. Familiar.
He breathed out hard.
“You left a button undone,” she murmured. “I thought you were trying to kill me.”
“I didn’t—”
She unbuttoned the next one. Slow.
“You’ve got the softest fucking skin,” she said, and he swore his soul left his body.
“I, uh—”
She kissed his throat. Lower. Dragged her nails lightly down the back of his hand where it rested on the keys.
“I came here to say thank you,” she said, voice like warm smoke. “For letting me be a greedy, filthy, terrifying thing around you.”
He swallowed. “You’re not—”
She looked up at him. “I am. And you like it.”
He did.
He liked it more than he’d ever liked anything in his life.
“I can’t breathe when you look at me,” he admitted.
She straddled his lap.
“Good,” she said.
He kissed her like he was scared of being good at it. She bit his lip until he stopped being scared.
⸻
They didn’t have sex on the piano bench.
They almost did.
But then Carmen looked at him, fingers curled in his curls, and saw something tender in his eyes—something not just hard or needy, but open.
So she leaned in close, cheek pressed to his, and whispered:
“I want to hear the song you wrote me. The one you don’t want me to know about yet.”
Art froze.
Then—without a word—he adjusted the bench, flexed his fingers, and began to play.
Carmen sat in his lap, wrapped in robe and affection, listening to her heart get played in harmony.
Summary: When your father dies, and the Dirty Martini is ran by your brother, all hell breaks lose. And the one person who knows the secret to the newest mafia family in town is you. Forced to perform, and bought by August Walker. Who knew it was going to take an old family friend to save you? Hiding you away from the families is where the two of you start to fall....
Ari clears his throat, standing up from his table as he looks amongst his closest and most trusted members of the family. Smiling with a curt nod, and ready to go home for a drink. This business could be draining at the best of times, and at the worst it was miserable, and right now was one of those times. Acquiring businesses was his least favorite part. He massages the bridge of his nose, waiting on the room to clear out when someone still remains.
“Sir?”
“What do you need Jonathan?” The bookkeeper and Ari’s personal assistant was loyal and efficient if not annoying most of the time.
“The Dirty Martini, it could be time to cut this loss.”
“Fine, you have my blessing to do what needs to be done,” he closes his book, ready to stand, but the other man doesn’t leave.
“It’s just that…well, Calvin and his family have a long standing with our…business,” Jonathan was getting better at not calling this a mafia, or worse, the mob. He was learning.
“Oh, The Dirty Martini, that burlesque club? Calvin. This is the Newton family’s business?” Jonathan nods his head, and Ari taps his finger on the table. “We can’t get rid of it.”
“Sir?”
“Let me check it out. That family has old standings with us. Maybe they just need an update. We’ll give them a business loan, come up with a plan on how to engage their audience,” Jonathan’s mouth starts to open, but with a hand raise from Ari it closes even quicker. Snapping his teeth together, because you don’t argue with him. “My family has a long standing relationship with theirs. They have a year to improve. Then we cut ties. I’m going tonight, and you can join.”
“Yes, sir. But this business…if I’m to believe their numbers should be much more profitable. They’re also debuting a new girl.”
“Good. I love some fresh meat. See you in an hour. Dress like you’re going to a cocktail party,” with Ari’s head held high, he struts out of this office. It had been many years since he had met with the Newton’s, even though the families were quite close. His father had always taken special interest in them, and also the business, so Ari would extend the same courtesy.
“No!” You scream, throwing a glass over towards August. “Get away!”
“Candy,” he says your name through gritted teeth, holding up those stupid cylinders. “Be a good girl, and let me put these on!”
“No!” This time a vase is hauled towards him and your handler Rita walks into the room, groaning more at August than yourself. “I’m not wearing those!”
“Rita!” Rita looks at your costume, smoothing everything out. “She needs to wear the nipple pumps for thirty minutes. Tell her that.”
“She’s right there, sir. Can you not tell her?”
“I’m not taking my top off!”
“You insufferable little brat! Your fucking nipples will be pumped, because you’re body is all you have to offer this world. You’re also being put up for private dances. Get used to your nipples being swollen and engorged. Just the way clients like them. Rita,” random bits and pieces from your vanity get thrown at August, as he tries and remains calm. “One of these days, you’ll get what you have coming to you.”
“Rita, you calm her down,” he slams three pumps into her hand, looking towards you with a sneer, “You either put on the pumps, or I’ll tie you up and pump your clit as well. You’ll be doing more than just dancing. Why don’t you ask Cassie or Jezabel what goes on behind the curtains. We’ll turn you out like the rest of the girls. You get pity because you have a voice and you’re a Newton. Don’t think your brother won’t sell your cunt for a buck. Get her fucking ready, Rita! She’s the star tonight.”
He walks out, slamming the door shut when Rita looks at you regrettably. “You really know how to piss him off. Almost got your costume for the night dirty. Now, help me clean up.”
“No,” you stub up, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Help me clean up, now,” she never raises her voice, but the look she shot at you meant that you should help. You bend down, trying to collect the larger pieces. Grabbing a broom for the smaller glass. “What is your reason for not wanting the pumps?”
“Why do my nipples need to be larger?”
“Oh they’re getting makeup on them, too,” you groan. You wanted to sing. That was all. “Your top will come off. They’ll look at your titties, and the ones further away can see just how perky they are because your nipples are swollen and darker. Should you give a private show, you’ll have to put them on again.”
“This is stupid.”
“With the right person, they’re quite nice. Makes the nipples more sensitive,” you roll your eyes, flopping yourself into a chair. “No, up up. Time for you to get laced up. At least, your tits aren’t in this corset.”
“That makes it better,” you stand up, turning your back towards her as she wraps the beautiful white corset around you. “The diamond,” it was a curse for you. Pretending to be something special because your father built the theater. But to August and your brother, you were just like the rest of them. Meat.
“Spin,” you turn around towards her, your tits just hanging out, you don't care anymore. “Lick it,” she holds up the pump to your mouth, and your snarl.
“Ew.”
“It needs lubrication.”
“Can I just do it myself?”
“Are you going to?” You lick the mechanism while she pushes it up against your nipple. Turning the knob, and you stare horrified at your nipple being sucked up into it. “It’s normal. That’s the point. Swell the nipples, so they’re nice and hard for your performance.”
“Ow! That’s too much. Oh my god, look at it,” you lick the other one, while Rita spins it on you. “They’re just sticking out. And not moving,” you flick the one a couple of times before Rita slaps at your hand.
“Find you a man that will do this, and put a tiny bullet in one or a vibrator on it,” you stare at her with your mouth opened up in a wide smile. “Don’t be such a prude. Your ass and tits are about to be hanging out in front of tons of people. Having it on your clit is quite nice, too.”
“How long do they have to stay on there?”
“August said thirty minutes,” you shimmy your shoulders, watching them flap around. “Maybe forty minutes is a better time frame.”
“No! This is just weird, and slightly uncomfortable.”
“It’s a constant suck. Have you never had anyone suck on your nipples?” You shake your head no, watching as she gathers the rest of your costume. “Has…have you had sex?”
“Yeah. No one sucked on anything though.”
“Such a pity. Go on, step into the bottoms, so you can cover your twat up. How come you act like this with me, but when it’s August…”
“He makes me uncomfortable, okay? Told me the other day he could get a free performance anytime he wanted to. I just want to sing.”
“Burlesque, sweetheart, you can’t go up there with jeans and a t-shirt. Look at it as the art it is. Celebrating the woman’s body. It won’t be men just out there. It won’t just be singles out there. Couples come here to enjoy this. Watch as a woman moves, her curves on full display. Completely in touch with their sexual prowess. Sing, but perform. You have more to offer than your body, so prove it.”
“Can I take these off now?”
“Has it been thirty minutes?”
Ari runs his finger over the table at The Dirty Martini, taking a sip of the house drink, and looks over at Jonathan, “Cheap liquor, and not enough. Let’s hope the entertainment is better. Are you writing this down?”
“Yes, sir. On the menu tonight is a new performer. Their Diamond. Goes by the name of Candy Jane.”
Ari leans back with a belly laugh, “What could they possibly have to offer as their Diamond? This is her debut performance, correct?”
“Yes, the talk in the bathroom is that she's going to be put on auction for a private show.”
“Oh, they’re that confident, huh? Where is she on the lineup?”
“She’s the first one out. Very cliche, but she’s singing Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” Ari rolls his eyes, trying to sit back comfortably. “The seats need updating.”
“I agree. They have not put any of their money back into this dump. They have to be making some form of a profit. I doubt these girls are being paid staggering amounts. Lights, props, costumes, and…” he stops his talking as the curtains start to draw. Only you are holding feathers around your body. Looking down to see your removable piece was still covering your breasts when you start a slow singing of the song.
Letting the feathers drop as Ari sits up straighter in his seat, “Is she going to take the mask off?”
“Are you interested?” Jonathan looks at his boss who was leaning so far forward. “I’ll go put in a bid for the private show.”
“Whatever the cost,” he gulps when the flap is removed and you're left topless with your swollen and tinted nipples, a roar of the crowd has you getting more into the routine, “Remind them of who is asking, and that they owe quite a large sum to the family. They’d be making quite a profit.”
“Yes, sir,” between the corset framing your tits perfectly, and the barely there panties, Ari was entranced. You were not like the usual performers, you were something special entirely. A bit nervous, and definitely new to this life. He wanted to kick himself for being too far away from the stage, but also didn’t want to alert anyone that he was here. He needed to see how much the club had fallen, but you were perfect.
He takes a sip of the disgusting house martini, enjoying the show. You would definitely look better without the mask, completely naked, and in his bed. Letting him spoil every inch of you.
“Sir, you can go ahead to the room.”
“I will finish this first. I want her to stay in white.”
“Oh…I’ll let them know.”
“I want her without the mask.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll send an usher to lead you to the room after she’s finished,” Ari nods his head, watching as you shimmy your shoulders, letting your tits recoil perfectly. You deserved much more than this club. You deserved to be put on a pedestal, worshiped, spoiled, and in return, you would spoil him.
“I don’t want to wear those again. They’re sensitive,” Rita tightens the pump on your nipple, as August smirks in the corner, turning back to find you a different outfit. “I thought I said I didn’t want to give a private show.”
“Yeah, well, the cost was much too great to refuse. You have a fan,” he hands Rita the lingerie set, making sure that there was nothing to cover your tits. “They certainly do look pretty all big and juicy on that stage. You were a natural.”
“Can you leave?” Rita shoos you behind a partition, handing you the lingerie instead of helping you.
“No, I need to make sure the club’s asset makes it to the room. He’s waiting. Keep the mask on, until you get there. Let him take it off,” Rita looks back at August, giving him a questioning look. “He was entranced. Obsessed. We may end up getting him on the regular. I could tell when your top came off that he would bid for you. Been watching him the moment he walked in,” that was odd for August to follow someone around the club. You figured he must have been a pretty important client.
“No. I can’t see someone regularly. They were still big. Can I not just…take them off, and cover myself with a robe?”
“You will have them on for less time, Candy,” you hated that name, but understood why the need to be anonymous there. “We don’t want to bruise your tits. Not like that anyways. He’s going to be wearing a mask as well.”
“Why?”
“You can take it off. Why do you ask so many questions?” You don’t answer. There wasn’t a point with August. Calvin’s friend and business partner was one of your least favorite people. But sending him in for these occasions was less weird than your brother coming in here. “Go ahead and pull them off.”
“Break the seal.”
“I said to pull them off. Give them an extra suck. I can help if you like,” you do as Rita asked, she seemed to know more about this than August. “Alright, let me see.”
“She’s fine. They were still swollen from before. They’re plenty big. Robe on, sweetheart. August is going to lead you to the room.”
You step from behind the partition, and August’s eyes linger on your chest for a bit too long, spinning to lead you down to the private room. Stopping at the door when he smirks at you, “Don’t get attached Candy. And do everything he says. I’ll be watching,” he gives you a wink, reminding you there were cameras in the room, for ‘the girl's safety’. But everything he said was a warning. This man could ask you to do anything.
Gulping you walk into the room. The man was comfortably sitting on the center of the couch, his legs spread as wide as they could go while his hand rubs up and down his thigh, “Lose the robe. But let it fall down slowly.”
You give the silk robe a bit of a push, letting it drift down your body, pooling at your feet, “Well, come on. Have a seat,” both his hands move over his thigh, and you try to keep eye contact, but fail.
“Wouldn’t you like a dance?”
“I would like for you to sit in my lap while we get to know each other better,” with a deep inhale, you move closer. One step at a time. Painfully slow, “I don't need a performance for you to sit in my lap, Candy Jane. Sit in my lap.”
Finishing up the distance, he guides you to straddle him. Shoving you down onto his covered hard cock, “Your little song did that to me,” he removes your mask, giving you an odd look as you take his off. Gasping up at him.
“Ari?”
“Who are you?”
“You and your dad always called me Dulce. Said I was as sweet as candy.”
“Oh my god,” he looks down at your chest, unbelievingly at what just transpired. When did you grow up? When did you get these perfect tits? When did this happen? “Oh my god. You’re…you’re Scott’s daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you end up in a dump like this? Surely your father wouldn’t have you doing…doing this,” he starts shoving you off him a moment, but your eyes flick to the corner. “There’s cameras?”
“Yes.”
“Sound?” You shake your head no. “What’s going on?”
“My dad died. Calvin took over. He needs the money.”
“He? Not the business?” You nod your head, and Ari’s hands slide up your thighs, pulling you completely flush to his body. “Start grinding,” you move your hips over him, and Ari can’t help but to moan. He needed some relief, and while this felt wrong, it definitely was feeling so right. Looking down at your perfect tits, he takes a deep breath. “What do you know? My personal assistant brought this place to my attention.”
“I can’t talk here.”
“Why?” Ari moves his thumb, and it grazes over your nipple, and you whimper, “You’re sensitive,” smirks up at you, doing it again. “Keep moving,” he pushes himself further down onto the couch, moaning when your nipple is touched again. “This feels…”
“Good,” you answer for him. It was wrong that he was formerly in business with your father. That you had known him since you both were quite young, and he was just learning the business. But it felt good. Ari had grown up and filled out, and still was attractive as when you had a school girl crush on him. And even more attractive.
“Yes,” he moans out, his eyes moving all over your body and face. “Very very good. What else?”
“Ari, you gotta get me out if I tell you.”
“Why?”
“Promise me,” you move even faster over him. Your mother had told you before her untimely death, men make stupid decisions during sex. I mean, Ari wasn’t inside of you, but his cock was throbbing. “Promise me, you’ll get me out.”
“Promise.”
“Oh!” Arching your back, you bring your tits right to his face, and he captures one with his mouth, holding it with his hand as he sucks on the swollen bud. His tongue flicks over it, and he smiles at you over your tits.
“Keep moving,” he says as he moves to the other one. Giving the abandoned nipple a hard pinch as you race for the two of your finishes. Ari stares up at you like you seriously were this precious diamond. Moving between your tits, before pinching both of them hard, and giving your breasts a shake.
“Ari!” You whine out, working your hips over him. “A-A-A-Ari!” Stuttering out his name as his cum soaks through his jeans, and you allow yourself to let go. Resting your head on his shoulder. And he trembles at your heated breath on his neck.
“I can’t take you out for a while.”
“Why?”
“It’ll become too suspicious.”
“You’re a liar,” you lift up off him, and he gives you a smile. “You lied.”
“I haven’t. You haven’t given me any information. I will take you from this place. And until then, I will come to your shows, and will keep you from having to whore yourself out to disgusting men by buying out your room for the evening.”
“So, we’re staying in here all night?” He shakes his head no, looking down at your tits. “Quit looking. August is watching. He makes me wear these pumps until they’re swollen and sensitive. Now that he knows you can’t keep your eyes off my tits, he’ll make me wear them longer.”
“It’s a good look,” he smirks, cupping both your breasts in his hand, letting his thumb rub over the overstimulated peaks. “Don’t change whatever you’re doing. Everything has to be just like tonight.”
“Are you sure this isn’t a way for you to eventually fuck me?”
“Believe me, I won’t pay for sex. If I wanted sex from you, I could get it. We’re in a business agreement. Go on, let these pretty nipples calm down. Fuck a pillow, fuck a dildo, I really don’t care. I paid for you for the whole night, but you might be better served getting some rest and self care.”
“What makes you think I want sex?” His hand goes to cup your barely covered mound, smiling, “I came. And some of that is your cum.”
“You’re still throbbing, and…is that clenching of your pussy I feel?” Ari chuckles, removing his hand, lifting it up to show the strings from your arousal stretch between his fingers, “Is it me or just the fact you were getting off? Has it been a long time?”
“No,” you stand, grabbing your robe, and start to head out.
“Have fun, Dulce,” he smiles, lifting his hand to look at it again. It was incredible. You were responsive. His fingers were coated in your sticky slick. He takes a moment to lick off your honey, moaning at the taste before he stands. Wearing the wet spot on his pants with pride.
Giving a nod to Jonathan as the two of them head out of the club, and in the safety of his car. “Just like you thought. There’s more going on. Looks like a former business partner’s daughter is giving us all the information.”
“I take it the private show went well?” Jonathan cocks up an eyebrow looking at the soaked jeans. “Who was she?”
“An old friend. She’ll be Calvin’s undoing. You were right this time, buddy. Calvin Newton and August Walker are not to be trusted. But I also need the Diamond out safely in less than a month's time. But, I’ll need to make regular visits to make sure she’s safe.”
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with getting your dick wet.”
“It didn’t get wet. It stayed in the jeans. She’s got a sloppy cunt.”
“How delightful. Is she going to become one of your toys?” Ari smiles, starting the car. Oh, he could definitely play with you alright. But he wanted something more than just a warm body for the night. Your father had been too good to his family for you to become disposable.
“She’s going to become my Diamond. She’ll need my protection at any cost. It’s time she realizes her value is far more than what’s in between her legs.”
“Or bouncing on her chest,” Jonathan looks over towards Ari, grinning so big. He knew Ari had a soft spot for a good set of boobs. “So what you’re saying is we need to get her a passport.”
“Exactly. A month’s time, she will be out. She will divulge exactly what is going on in that club. I want her to have respectable clothes. Bathing suits, dresses, jewelry. Have it all waiting at the Italy house.”
“Sir?”
“Have it all waiting at the Italy house. Don’t question my process. She’s not a toy. She is valuable.”
“Yes, sir,” and Ari meant it. Your father was a good man. Calvin was trash. Anyone that made August Walker be around their sister was trash. Anyone that offered their sister up for men to ogle at, and grope, and even shove themselves into her was disgusting. Sex work was admirable when it was their choice. This wasn’t. He would get you out. And you would have his complete protection.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, attempted non/con, physical abuse against reader, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 6.1K
Previous
Series Masterlist
*dividers created by @firefly-graphics
“And if you gentleman head this way,” Calvin leads a new group of investors to the club down the hallway, and towards the dressing rooms. “If we’re lucky we may hear our Candy Jane practicing. She should have a grand performance for you tonight. Completely…nude.”
Calvin fights himself to not be disgusted at the thought of you being nude, but you were being put up for auction tonight, even if you didn’t know it. Ari wanted to act like he had some grand claim on you, but Calvin would make it near impossible for Ari to pay if he had to. He was getting tired of the two of your games. There was something more going on, and he was going to put an end to it.
“What was that?” The businessman stops when a woman screams out, followed by the sound of broken glass. “What sort of business are you running here, Newton?”
“The one where the clients get everything they want. No matter what. Some people like things a bit rough. They enjoy their brats from time to time,” he awkwardly laughs, hearing another scream, this time from you. “Anyways, I think it’s time to get you men in your seats. Charles, make sure these gentlemen have the best seats in the house.”
Taking a deep breath, he waits for Charles to lead them down the hall before he heads towards your dressing room. Slinging the door open right as August backhands you across the face. Rita lays on the floor out cold, “What the fuck?”
“Calvin! Calvin, please I didn’t do anything!” Talking back receives a grab to your arm. His fingers dig into you as he jerks you to his body. “Calvin!”
“Shut the fuck up you fucking cunt! Your brother told me you were my problem to deal with,” your stupid brother backs himself out of your dressing room, leaving you to feel with August’s wrath. “Like I said. You want to be a fucking whore, I’ll treat you like one.”
When you scream no at him, he pushes you into the wall. Starting to stalk towards you, while you cower in the corner; pissed and scared at the predicament that you’re in. This isn’t at all what you signed up for. This isn’t what your father or mother would have wanted, and your brother didn’t even care. He was a coward.
“You,” Calvin snaps at a woman that was walking down the hall, flinching when she hears you cry out for help. “Let the DJ know that Candy Jane won’t be performing tonight.”
“Sir?” Gasping when she hears you cry out in pain.
“She’s getting what is coming to her. And if you were smart, you’d forget you heard anything,” he straightens his tie out, walking down the hall. He did tell August that you were his problem, but that doesn’t mean he had to listen to it. He had a goal, and that was to destroy Ari Levinson and his fucking mafia. Stealing from his family for years. Paying their dues. They didn’t need Ari.
“What the fuck is this?” Ari sits up, eyes flitting around the stage. This was your spot, but that was not you. “Jonathan, we have a problem.”
“I see that,” he snaps his fingers at the nearest waitress, and she bounces over to them. Batting her lashes at Ari, anything for extra tips. “Where’s the Candy girl?”
“Uh…she…sh-sh-she can’t perform,” she was told to forget what happened, and that’s what she should do.
“Why?” Ari growls out, standing up, and she backs away from him. “You tell me where she is, and I’ll make sure you never have to work another day here in your life.”
“August,” she squeaks out. Tears falling down her face. “She was screaming, and Calvin told me to forget. I’m sorry. I know she’s your favorite, but they’re…August wants her.”
“Pay her,” Ari demands, darting off towards the dressing rooms. He has studied The Dirty Martini enough. He doesn’t stop even when people start yelling at him. You had given him valuable information, and he was going to make sure that you were kept safe. Tonight was the night anyway. The jet was ready. All he needed was you in it.
It’s easy enough to find your dressing room with your piercing screams. The hallway was completely empty. Everyone was fleeing away from your cries for help. “You fucking bitch! Not only have you been stealing money, but that prick promises you a ride on his dick, and you start running your cock sucking mouth.”
“August stop!” One more scream, and he slams your head on the vanity, and your vision starts to blur. “Please, don’t,” whimpering as he kicks your legs further apart. “Don’t,” between the stars in your eyes, and your tears, you can’t see anything. With one hand, August holds you down, but he spits in the other. Your body starts shaking with your cries as you try to take your mind anywhere but here.
August never touches you, and your body does drop down on the floor. You scurry underneath the dressing table, hiding from whatever commotion is occurring around you. Pulling your knees up to your chest and hiding your face while Ari pounds into August’s skull. You look over at Rita who you just know is dead. You can’t see clearly enough to see if she was breathing.
Ari spits on August, and turns towards you. Holding you bridal style, and carrying you out of there, “Rita.”
“Dulce, I’m not worried about her right, sweetheart. Can you see?” Sniffling, you shake your head no. “I’m getting you out of here. Just keep those pretty little eyes open, and look at me,” your face is already forming bruises. Swelling every second. And Ari runs a bit faster. He needs you out of here. Things happen so quickly as he carries you through the building. You couldn’t even tell he was running.
He puts the both of you in the backseat of an SUV, and tells something to his partner, but you cling tighter to him. Your brother was allowing that monster to touch you in any way that he wanted. And August kept repeating how he was going to break you in.
“Dulce, eyes open, darling. We’re getting on the jet.”
“No. Rita,” you need to know she’s okay. Your eyes start to flutter close, and Ari gives you a tap to your cheek. “Ari?”
“Jonathan when we take off, I want you to make sure that Rita is the next one to be retrieved…well…just let me know what you find out. I’m going off grid for a couple of days,” Jonathan clears his throat as Ari gets the two of you out of the car. “I have to make sure she’s okay. Is there a doctor on board?”
“Yes,” Jonathan answers shortly. There isn’t time for Ari to be missing for a couple of days. He had a job to do.
“A couple of days. Give me that,” with that Ari walks the two of you onto the jet. Trying to sit you in your own seat, but you hold him tighter, “Dulce, I need someone to look at you.”
“Don’t leave me, please,” his hand cups your cheek, and he looks at you so sweetly. “Please, don’t,” whispering again. Ari’s glassy eyes look up at the doctor. He couldn’t. You need to be checked out.
“Ari, I can look at her while you hold her. No big deal,” she tilts your head towards her, shining a light into your eyes, and you try not to sob. Calvin allowed this. “Other than what I see, did he hurt you anywhere else?” You shake your head, and squeeze tighter to Ari. “Sweetheart, do you need Ari to leave?”
“No!” The idea of Ari’s skin not touching yours makes your body start to shake uncontrollably, and he pulls you closer to his body.
“Look at me, did he touch you? Did…did he…”
“No, Angie. I walked in before he was able to,” a kiss. The softest kiss is pressed on your temple. Slowly your breathing regulates, and the tenseness in your body starts to subside.
“Is that true?” Her voice was soft, and reminded you so much of your mother’s. “Honey, no one here will judge you. I just need to know.”
“No. He didn’t. Ari?”
“I’m right here. Can you give her something for the pain? Anything?”
Answering yes, she gets out of her seat, fetching her bag when she comes back, “Now, after your adrenaline has calmed down, I need you to get checked out again. Where you’re going, someone will know how to get in touch with someone to help. I fear that you may have fractures. I’m giving you a fake passport, and ID. Ari will be listed as your emergency contact, but try not to get lost. Your bruises are deep. But you survived.”
Ari softly lays you in a warm bed, walking over to a dresser, he pulls out a few things before heading back to you, “Dulce, sit up, darling,” you sit up, and he pushes back the robe off your body. Replacing it with a silk nightgown. His hands never touch your skin, but he is sure to pull it completely down your body.
“I’m going to lay you back down, and change your panties, okay?” Your eyes finally give up their fight, and start closing as you lean back. “Good girl,” Ari whispers gently. Every touch on you is with so much care. And then a thick duvet is pulled over your body, followed by a kiss to your temple.
Sleep starts to overtake you, and your body feels as if it weighs five thousand pounds. Stuck to the bed, and unable to move. It’s strangling. Voices. So many voices. Hands. Rough hands all over you. Blinding lights. Piercing pain. Blurry vision. Grunts. Force.
You jolt up in bed sweating, heaving as you look around you. You had never been here. Your body is so sore, and you have no idea where you are. “Ari,” you whisper. He had been with you. He saved you. Throwing off the heavy blanket, you start tiptoeing out the room you are in. Listening for voices, but there is none.
Your eyes look up and down the hallway, and only one door has a faint glow under it. It was worth the shot. Opening up the door you see his handsome face, sleeping calmly. His bed was bigger, and you didn’t want to be alone.
As you lift up the blanket, Ari sits up abruptly, eyes wide staring at you. A hand under his pillow, and you gaze at him owlishly, “Dulce, what are you doing?”
“I was having nightmares.”
“I should have figured. Here,” he opens the blanket, you and get a quick glance at his body. Gulping as you try and get comfortable. “What’s wrong?” He asks when you try to twitch around. “Darling?”
“Can you hold me?” He hesitates, and you know why. There will be nothing that separates him from you. He is completely nude, but he still pulls you flush with his body, and you start relaxing. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Get some sleep.”
Sleep. Would it ever be comfortable again? Before it was a way to escape your life. Now it was haunting. And every time that you feel August you wake up to Ari’s hands. His touch is gentle, and not demanding. It is soft and caring. Protective. Comfortable.
“Ari,” you whimper, spreading your legs a bit. It was stupid, but you think maybe if you had sex with Ari you would quit having visions of August trying to take. It didn’t make sense, and made total sense all the same, “Ari.”
“Dulce,” Ari responds, with less enthusiasm. Sitting up in the bed, and slinging his feet over the edge, opposite of you. His arms go above his head as he stretches out, yawning a bit. Standing to walk over to the closet, pulling out some clothes, and tugs them on, “You just going to stare at me, or are you going to get dressed? You remember where your room is?”
“Yeah, but,” you try to act sexy, biting at your lip. Already cursing yourself for trying. Ari does smirk at you, but shakes his head. “But…”
“Get dressed. I want to introduce to you my favorite woman in the world.”
Woman? Woman? What was his deal? You get out of the bed, and stomp back to your room. The nightgown definitely covered enough. But you were told to get dressed. Get dressed. Rolling your eyes you open the closet, and pull out the first dress you touch. He had a closet full of clothes for you. He slept in the bed naked with you, and he had a woman.
His favorite woman in the world. His dick was touching the back of your legs just now, and he had a woman. In this house? Or was he keeping you away from her home? Of all the stupid things, you trusted Ari with more than just your life. You were acting like a child. A fool. And one stupid enough to believe that you were a woman in his life.
“Are you decent?” Ari knocks softly on the door.
“Yes,” your answer is short, but Ari still smiles. “Where are we?”
“Tuscan,” well, he was full of words this morning. Get dressed. Meet my favorite woman in the world. Are you decent? Tuscan. You feel this rage of jealousy build up inside of you, and for what? Ari didn’t promise you anything. Nothing.
“Here she is,” he says brightly, giving a big hug to an old woman, “Dulce, this is Nonna. Nonna, this is…”
“Dulce Newton,” her smile is so large, her eyes completely close. Crinkles move over her skin, and you look at Ari confused. “I was the one that gave you that nickname. You were always so sweet. Followed Ari around like a lost little puppy. Sit down. I made breakfast. Got you some nice coffee, maybe it’ll help your throat. I trust the closet is good for you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ari pulls out a chair for you to sit in before he sits down beside you, demanding that Nonna sit down as well. “I don’t understand.”
“What is there to understand? You are here, as am I. I made breakfast, and coffee. Drink. Eat. Later you can go out in the vineyard. Go to the edge, look out at the ocean. Travel down to the docks. Stay away from too many people. Is that all the words, figlio? Ari has so many rules for me, and now you have them, too.”
“And you’re still alive, and living your dream on a vineyard,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket, giving it a glance over before his chair screeches on the floor.
“No!” Nonna shouts pointing at him. “You eat. Then leave,” you turn to look at him, fear laced in your eyes, and Ari places a calming hand on your thigh. “No point in arguing. Duty calls, but he will eat.”
“Dulc, I have some things I need to attend to. I’ll only be away for a few days, and then I’ll be back, and we will discuss what is going on. I pissed a lot of people off.”
“Language,” Nonna scolds him, taking a sip of her coffee. “I know you are a brute, but at this table, you will be respectful. Especially in front of Dulce.”
“Yes, ma’am,” his hand never leaves your thigh, but not much else is discussed. There isn’t much use. Nobody tells Ari what he is going to do. You just do it. You just do as you are told.
Ari stands up abruptly, and walks over to kiss Nonna’s cheeks, before he’s back in front of you. A soft kiss to your temple, just like the one the night before, “I will be back in a few days. I have things I have to take care of, and I need you here, and away from everything. Nonna knows the drill. Trust her. I”ll be back. Take care.”
He places another kiss on your temple before turning to leave. “There’s no point in worrying about this. But you seemed a bit upset. He called me his favorite woman again, didn't he?” You sit in silence, trying to work through your emotions. It had been a long night. And you have conflicting feelings.
“Hmm, how did you sleep? Considering your bed was empty.”
“I slept with Ari.”
“Sleeping slept, or the sexy slept?”
“He wouldn’t,” it wasn’t a lack of trying on your part. You guess that outside of the club, you are nothing to Ari.
“Good. Judging by those bruises on your face, neck, wrists, and I’m sure other places the last thing you need is sex. Ari’s a good man. If you didn’t mean anything to him, you wouldn’t be here. And he would have had sex with you. He can have sex with whoever he wants, but the ones he holds out on mean more than just a good lay,” she reaches across the table to hold onto your hand, and then stands carrying dishes to the sink, and you catch a glimpse behind her ear.
You don’t say anything, just tuck your legs up against your chest. Thinking.
“I don’t expect you to always talk, but you should always listen. You had a traumatic evening I gathered. Your brother is running your dad’s business to the ground. I’ve heard stories. The day Ari had someone bring in loads of clothes here for you. No one ever comes here. No one even knows this place exists except the people that were here, and two others. The one that brought your clothes, well she’s the only one that visits regularly.”
You look out the kitchen window. Sprawling vineyards cover the backyard. This is a piece of paradise. “Yeah, but if it’s Ari’s house, people will know. It can’t stay hidden for long.”
“It’s mine. Ari might have paid for it, but this is mine. It’s too big, but that’s how he is. He likes things to be grand, and make a statement,” she tucks a wisp of hair behid her ear, causing even more attention to that spot, and you can’t help but stare at it. “I wasn’t so different from you. Ari’s grandfather saved me. I was branded like cattle. Looks like you're branded in bruises. Did he touch you?”
You swallow bile as tears immediately cascade down your face. Shaking your head no. You knew what she meant. August didn’t get the chance. “He was going to though?” The tears come more rapidly, and Nonna moves to sit down beside you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, and pulling you into her. “There, there. You not only survived, but now you get to live.”
“I think he killed my friend. She wasn’t breathing,” Rita stepped in to protect you, and received a vase of flowers to the back of her head before August head butted her. “Ari left her.”
“Ari’s goal was to get you out of there. You’re of no value dead.”
“I gave him just a bit of information.”
“No. He wouldn’t have allowed you to sleep in his bed. My boy sleeps naked. If you were just information he would have fucked you. He wouldn’t have come back after you gave him the information. He’s a smart man, sweet Dulce. He came back for you, not the information. He left I’m sure for some unfinished business. Maybe to check on your friend. But there’s no point in crying over Ari’s business. You get used to the men going away. Coming back bearing gifts to apologize. They live hard lives, and want something soft to come home to. You’re safe here, but stay away from large crowds. Don’t leave the property until your bruises are healed. People ask too many questions, and you will lead them right to our sanctuary.”
“I didn’t want to be a part of this life,” Nonna kisses the top of your head, and stands up, heading back to the sink.
“You being here means you’re not a part of that life. If you were a part of it, Ari would have you on his arm. Showing off what he has that no one else does. He brought you here to give you a different life than the mafia games, and dealing in drugs and pussy. And you know it’s true. You’re not in that life. You’re in his. Why don’t you walk through the vines. They’re quite calming. Later, I can show you the wine cellar. Ari loves his wine. It’d be a shame to not have that pretty dress blowing in the wind. Heaven knows how much he spent on those clothes.”
Her weathered hands start scrubbing the breakfast dishes, and you stare at her burned skin a bit longer. She was owned, and someone had wanted everyone to know who owned her. “I didn’t know Ari was Italian.”
“He’s not. I am. His grandfather and I were never married. Never were lovers, but best friends.”
“He rescued you, and…”
“His grandfather and him are not the same person, Dulce. You still have that crush on my boy?” You shrug your shoulders, because you weren’t quite sure what you thought of Ari. There was a raw attraction to him, but to say that you wanted anything more than sexual comfort was silly.
“Hmm. Enjoy the sun, Dulce. Enjoy being able to get out and have some freedom. I’m sure that they kept you hidden and locked up. Controlled your outfits, your hair, makeup, even the way your body looked. This is your life now. Live it.”
“What you said earlier,” Nonna turns to look at you, giving you her undivided attention. There is something that has been bothering you. “Ari and I…we…he bought a private room to be with me. So I am…I’m just sex for him.”
“Mmm,” she takes a deep breath as she wipes her hands on her apron. Moving to sit at the table with you, “Isn’t that private room where you were able to give Ari some valuable information about your brother’s plans?”
“Well, yeah, but…it wasn't’ sex, but…”
“You mean, you were being a smart woman. Getting some enjoyment, while you gave him a bit of information while the cameras were on. They only caught you and Ari having some pleasures of the flesh. Dulce, I meant what I said. That was a different instance. What happened before is not now. You did what you had to do to get out of there. And when I tell you that you are more than just the wet cunt in between your thighs, it’s what I meant. I don’t — I don’t play games with you or my boy’s mafia. I know him. I half raised that man. He values you far more than you’re giving yourself credit for. So what if he tasted or felt your warmth. Things are at play. It’s best you keep your head down and stop worrying about what these boys are doing to keep their territories in check. It won't’ be long. Calvin and August will not overturn Ari’s power. Now, go enjoy your freedom.”
Squinting out at the horizon of the ocean, you watch as a few boats float into the dock. You still hadn’t gathered the courage to leave the property, but there is something so serene about watching the boats. The salty air hangs thick in the air, and the sun paints across your cheeks. The bruises had since faded, but the pain was still there.
A few days had turned into a couple of weeks, and there was no word from Ari. Nonna told you there wouldn’t be. He didn’t call here. He just appeared, and would leave again. You bring your knees up to your chest, circling your arms around them. This became your stance. No one else was here to hold you, so you hold yourself.
Things at the little countryside home were peaceful. And most impostly free. Free from your brother and August. Free from being put on stage as a naked dancing bear. Unfortunately it was also free of Ari. He lied. He didn’t return, and left no word for you to know if everything is okay or if he is even alive.
He didn’t get to see you in the kitchen with Nonna as she taught you to cook and bake her favorite foods. He never saw you mess up your bed, only to sneak into his bedroom every night. Making the bed again before Nonna woke, while you pretend that you had slept in your room. He didn’t know that you had sprayed his cologne on his pillows and your nightgowns to help you sleep. He definitely didn’t know that you sat at the edge of the property watching the boats and tide come in; listening to the seagulls caw, and hope that one day he would come back to you.
You were free from being property to whatever man paid enough. But you were trapped here longing for his return. Wondering. Worrying. Waiting. And every day that passed was another day of disappointment.
Ari steps into the kitchen. Could already smell Nonna preparing something for dinner. He says out her name, alerting her of his arrival and hopefully you as well. She gives him a swat to his arm glaring, “How dare you, Ari Levinson.”
“What did I do?”
“A few days.”
“It’s business, and you know it’s never a few days,” he apologizes as his eyes move to the smaller set of stairs. Not nearly as grand as the one in the front of the house. “Is she napping?”
“She’s where she always is, sitting and waiting on you. A stupid man with his stupid lies. Telling me a few days in one thing, telling a girl who trauma bonded with you is another. Stupid man. You’re smart enough to not sleep with the girl, and still too dumb to realize she needs her savior. You can allow your second to deal with some things while you get her settled.”
“She told you I didn’t sleep with her?” Nonna starts cursing at him in Italian, and Ari sits at the table, letting her berate him. “Nonna, I didn’t sleep with her because…”
“You like the girl. That’s why you couldn’t. You have this protective hold over her. You want to make sweet love with her in your mind, and your body is ready to devour her.”
“You gotta stop reading those trash books.”
“You like her, and she likes you. She did before that night, and then you stepped in and saved her. You told me she held onto you the whole flight here, and then you think you can just leave, you stupid man. Aye yi yi. What am I going to do with you two?” She starts talking to herself in her mother tongue, and Ari tries to piece together what she’s saying before interrupting.
“Taylor was missing,” Nonna stops talking quickly, and slowly sits down at the table. “We located her, and she is recovering from her injuries. Ready to tear me a new one because she doesn’t like outsiders involved. I couldn’t put my second in charge because I didn’t have a second. This is bigger than expected.”
“Hmm,” is all Nonna says as she goes back to her cooking. Ari hopes for her to respond to more, but she doesn’t. She starts humming a song that you had been singing, ignoring Ari.
“Are you going to tell me where she is?”
“Look out the window. Take that basket. I was going to take her some lunch, and now you can. Grab a bottle of wine,” Ari stands at the double doors, watching you. You looked peaceful, but sad. One of the many dresses that he bought you billows in the wind. “She sits there everyday. Looking out at the ocean, and waiting on you. Your sister is at the restaurant. She sounded angry. Maybe because her wife was missing?”
“I don’t care. Taylor has been located. I’ll visit with Leah later,” he grabs a bottle of wine from the cabinet, and the basket of lunch. Jauntily walking out to you. It had been far too long. This week was shaping up to be a bunch of women angry with him.
“Dulce.”
“Go away,” you answer coldly. You didn’t want to look at him. Looking at him hurt.
“Dulce, let me explain.”
“A few days, Ari. You were gone for nineteen days. Maybe next time you can tell me your definition of a few days is,” he joins you on your blanket. Leaning forward, he tries to get your attention, but instead you turn your head up and away from him. “I wait here everyday for you to return.”
“I’m here now.”
“I won’t be stuck here and be lied to about how long you’re going to be gone. I deserve to know where you are. How you are, and how much longer you are going to be. You come here with…with a picnic basket and wine, and you want me to just open up my arms and let you back in, and I…I worried about you everyday.”
“I know. And I am sorry, I truly am,” reaching for your hand, you flinch away, and he stops. Letting his hand rest on his own thigh. “I ran into some problems. My second in command was missing. She had to be located. She has been, she is now in charge for at least a week.”
“She?”
“My sister’s wife. Leah didn’t want to have anything to do with our world, but she fell in love with a girl that did. I wasn’t just locating my second in command. I was locating my sister-in-law. She is now safe, and recovering from minor injuries, and before you ask, it had nothing to do with The Dirty Martini. That is something entirely separate. Jonathan got Rita out of the club, and she’s…she suffered from injuries, and is in a completely different safe house. No one knows about this place. And I will continue to keep it that way. You got jealous when I mentioned my second was a she.”
You protest by shaking your head. Laying your hand on the blanket, you are not as angry now, and long for his touch. Even if he thinks you were jealous. You are not. It’s just insulting to think he was looking for a woman, while you are here. And even thinking it makes you realize how ridiculous you’re being. “Yeah, you were. What is there to be jealous of?”
“You…I…Ari, this is complicated.”
“No it’s not.”
“I offered to have sex with you, and you denied me. But at the club you…”
“I touched you, and tasted you, yes. I played my part just like you did,” he almost gets a chance to lay his hand on top of yours, but instead you cross your arms. “Dulce, please, stop. What happened in that private room, with cameras you can not bring out here.”
“You know what I taste like.”
“What is your point?” You will not answer. He is being an ass. Two can play that game. “That room was for you to survive. We did what we had to do for you to exchange information.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“If I recall, as did you.”
“Ugh,” you scoff, completely turning your body to where your back is facing him. “You paid for me before knowing who I was or what information I had to offer. You used me.”
“We used each other.”
“You…you had your fingers inside of me.”
“And they slipped in easily, because you were soaked.”
“You’re a pig,” this shouldn’t hurt so much. Clearly he is just a client. You can not get attached because you are nothing more than entertainment to him.
“And you were playing the part of a paid for whore. You’re not in there and I will not treat you as a paid companion now. Do you understand?” You slowly and dramatically exhale, and it only irritates Ari even more, “Do you understand? I am not paying for your time. I don’t need you grinding on my lap, and fucking my fingers, while you whisper how your brother and August have this half baked plan to overthrow my family. Dulce, no matter what you think, me not fucking you is being respectful. What do you want me to do? Lay you down flat on this blanket, and pull your dress up, railing into you?”
“I want you to want to do that.”
“Oh my god! I do want to do that!” You glance over your shoulder looking at him. His outburst is not at all what you had been expecting. “The only thing I have thought about every night as I was fucking my hand was sinking into you. But I don’t want just sex with you. You get it now? I brought you here to my family. Not my mafia family, but my favorite protected people. If you were only as good as the information you gave me, you would be in an actual safe house instead of my Nonna’s home. I chose this place because I wanted you more than just safety. Now, turn around, and have lunch with me, and quit practically begging me to fuck you. It just may happen, but it’s not going to happen right now.”
You do turn around, but you still don’t look at him. You still don’t say anything, just grab the picnic basket and pull out two plates. Laying out some cheese, grapes, and bread while Ari fills wine glasses. “You’re not going to talk to me, hmm?”
“I am still mad at you.”
“Be mad at me, but you could at least smile.”
“Can I sleep in the bed with you?”
“I sleep naked.”
“Then you better have the resistance of the strongest man alive because I already sleep in there every night. That is my bed. You can continue to sleep naked,” and you preferred that.
“I’ll be late,” it is already starting again. You throw your head back growling, and Ari laughs a moment, “Leah is demanding an audience with me. I have to wait until she closes the restaurant to do that. Okay? Just have on one of your pretty little nightgowns, and wait on me. I’m not leaving Tuscan. I’m just going into the city. I’ll wear a tracking device if you want me to.”
“No. But I want you back within an hour. And I want you to stop lying to me.”
“Fine. I won’t be gone longer than two hours, but it should be closer to an hour. Leah talks, I listen. She probably just wants to fuss at me for losing her wife.”
“Fine. Pass the Brie, please,” Ari nods his head with a smile, but passes the Brie. He has never been told what to do by a woman. And here you are making demands of him, and he isn't even angry. There is respect. But also it turned him on that you weren’t afraid to make such demands. He dreaded going to talk to Leah almost as much as he did talking with Taylor. Leah was well suited for this business. Too bad she hated everything about it. Except her wife.
Ari didn’t care what the business was, he was going to spend time here. Time with Nonna, his sister, but most importantly; time with you.
Ari reaches a hand out, placing it respectfully on your knee, and you actually allow him that touch. His thumb traces over the joint as he takes a bite. The two of you go into a less intense conversation than the one prior. Comfort. He was like a warm hug.
Nonna looks up through her kitchen window as she finishes her task of the moment. A smile creeps up on her face before she closes the curtains. The two of you are going to be okay. People never could stay mad at Ari, and you were proving to be no different. But from the looks of it, you had given him your boundaries. Just like she told you to. Ari hated to read between the lines. He always wanted to know. And it looked like you were going to tell him exactly what you wanted.
When your father dies, and the Dirty Martini is ran by your brother, all hell breaks lose. And the one person who knows the secret to the newest mafia family in town is you. Forced to perform, and bought by August Walker. Who knew it was going to take an old family friend to save you? Hiding you away from the families is where the two of you start to fall....
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
A/N: this fic will have dark themes. There will be moments of taking away the reader’s agency, assault, misogyny, corruption and much more. Minors DNI.
