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chrollogy · 1 month ago

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THE COST OF DEVOTION | chrollo lucilfer x f!reader

synopsis: When Chrollo Lucilfer is assigned to go undercover, and kill a billionaire’s daughter, he finds himself breaking the most sacred rule of the underworld—that there should be no feelings involved. The consequences of his actions backs Chrollo into a corner where he has to choose between fulfilling the job or following his heart at a risky price.

18+ MDNI; undercover assassin!chrollo, bodyguard!chrollo, billionaire’s daughter!reader, loosely follows some canon events (chrollo’s past), reader is referred to as ‘miss’, DARK CONTENT, DARK ROMANCE, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort (no happy ending), explicit smut, SLOW BURN, major character death, touches on arranged marriage, cheating, killing, money laundering, human trafficking, kidnapping, sacrilege & blood (briefly), gun use, chrollo struggles with feelings, chrollo has scars, OCs mentioned, not beta read.

word count: 18.6k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. ITS HERE !! thank u to @ljubimaya & @avatarofstars for supporting me throughout the writing process and for being such amazing friends :3 this is different from my usual fics + super self indulgent so enjoy. feedbacks & thoughts are much appreciated ><

Loud music, enough to make one’s chest thump, annoying bright strobe lights, and the sea of intoxicated bodies that passionately danced with one another without a care in the world, Chrollo wanted out. He observed the luxury club with a subtle scowl, gaze sharp enough to tear one’s throat as he watched the spoiled, and rich carelessly sway to the beat of the music—you were one of them.

A privileged affluent businessman’s daughter who didn’t know how to handle one’s wealth so she resorts to spending nights swiping her card for overpriced drinks, and whatever expensive shit the club had to offer.

Meanwhile, the lower class had to work themselves to near death to be able to provide for their families. One, two, three jobs just to make ends meet—just to pay rent, just to bring food to the table even if it meant working for the underworld.

That was where Chrollo fell into the spectrum; fortunate enough to live but unfortunate enough to live a cruel life in an equally cruel world. He grew up learning how to steal, fight, and kill while you grew up having maids cook every meal, a solid roof over your head, and generational wealth to spend.

It made Chrollo sick to his stomach how wealthy kids like you could just take, take, and take yet had the audacity to complain about their lives as if society didn’t favour them at all. He could go on, and on about this whole ordeal but at the end of the day, no one would even bat an eye, plus, he had a job to do—technically, two jobs.

At the heart of the sweaty, inebriated club, you stood there beneath the neon strobe lights, it bounced off the strands of your hair like a colourful aura mirroring your careless joy. Body perfectly swaying to the beat of the music, a half-full glass of a sweet cocktail, and a blissful expression on your face; maybe if the circumstances were different Chrollo would have smiled at your blithe spirit but it wasn’t.

Your eyes—a drunken haze—found his own to which you immediately acknowledged with a cheery wave of your free hand.

It only took a split second for Chrollo to mask the obvious scowl on his face with a sickly saccharine smile—one that made his gut twist with disgust—he returned the gesture with a dip of his chin paired with raising a glass of water in the air as if to make a toast. Chrollo’s expression fell the minute you turned away, unceremoniously slouching back into the leathered booth you’ve booked beforehand, he let out a deep sigh, and rubbed at his temples.

Two weeks

It had only been two weeks since your father—Chrollo’s employer—hired him as your personal bodyguard, and as expected, extensive pre-screening was a must before one could securely acquire said role which Chrollo found extremely bothersome despite its lack of difficulty. Though this wasn’t a rare occurrence, it only made sense for the rich to hire a skilled bodyguard to protect oneself from unknown dangers.

Obviously, he didn’t apply to be your personal bodyguard for sincere reasons—far from it, actually; Chrollo was here for a task that would land him his heftiest pay yet, even just thinking about made his head spin with immeasurable happiness already but Chrollo figured he’d bask in filthy money after completing the job. He always did.

If anything, this should be a walk in the park for him considering there was nothing more satisfying than seeing the demise of a wealthy brat. But for now, he’d take it slow, and earn your trust ‘til the right time comes; where his mask falls, and true motives come to light.

Where the last thing the assassin would receive from you was a look of pure horror much like his previous targets. Would you beg for him to spare your life like others did? Or would you sit in complete shock, words lodged deep inside your throat?

These thoughts immediately dissipated at the call of his name; a few feet away, you stumbled your way towards the booth, the highball glass tucked in your hand was now empty with only half melted ice cubes remaining. Chrollo stood up, wrapping a firm arm around your back, helping you regain balance before guiding you to the leathered seat, the fabric cool against your feverish skin.

“Should I call the chauffeur, miss?” Chrollo feigned worry. His stature loomed over your sitting figure, back lit with red neon strobe lights, giving him a deep crimson glow. You stared at him longer than necessary before responding with a small nod; the wild atmosphere, paired with your spinning vision seemed like a good enough hint to head home, and retire for the night.

At your agreement, Chrollo let out a big mental sigh of relief—he may be an adept assassin but sitting idly for hours while watching his asset drink the night away exhausted his patience more than one could imagine.

The ride back to the estate was all a drunken haze for you, though, you recalled a brief exchange of words between Chrollo, and your chauffeur as the latter helped you inside the vehicle before, they seemed to get along swimmingly despite the former only being a new addition to your personal staff. Albeit, that description might be a bit too generous, maybe it was just your drunk self thinking but nonetheless, you appreciated the courteous manner between the two.

“Lukas?”

You called out to the chauffeur, he donned a formal attire just like Chrollo—a black tailored suit—he was an old-timer who had been your father’s previous chauffeur before you were born. It was safe to say you’ve learned a lot from him growing up, and maybe even served more as a father figure than your biological one.

��Yes, miss?” Lukas glanced briefly at the rear-view mirror. “Chrollo . . He’s nice, isn’t he?”

The older man could only chuckle in response, letting your words soak into the darkness of the vehicle before nodding, “He’s a promising young lad.” He glanced at the mirror once again, this time letting his gaze linger on you, headlights from the vehicle Chrollo drove behind poured into the backseat, and illuminated your face; Lukas didn’t know if it was due to your drunken state or from pure sincerity but the subtle smile on your face somewhat warmed his heart.

He took a mental note that you seemed to be quite fond of your new bodyguard.

After safely reaching the estate, and escorting you inside, Chrollo made his way to the staff house. Walking past the wooden double doors, he was stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice, “Off to bed, Chrollo?” It was Lukas, your chauffeur; he sat on one of the crimson couches, one hand nursing a cup of hot coffee.

Chrollo stared at the old man’s face behind the wisps of steam from the drink, the latter donned a rather pleased look on his face, he thought nothing of it, and nodded, “And yourself?”

Lukas returned the nod, “A little later for me.”

Silence occupied the living room for a moment. Chrollo could’ve left the conversation at that but instead, he stood there, feet rooted on the wooden floor, sensing that Lukas had more to say but was debating on it.

Seeing as he didn’t want to waste any more time, Chrollo spoke up “Is there something else you’d like to say?” His voice cut through the quiet atmosphere, he had now angled his body towards the older man. Lukas set the mug atop the coffee table before giving him his full attention, “The young miss seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Chrollo didn’t know how to react to that—even if he did, he wouldn’t have let on.

At his silence, Lukas invited himself to speak further, “At times, she can be quite a handful . . but hearing her speak positively of you warms my heart. What I’m trying to say is, please take good care of the young miss, it means a lot for her to say such things about you.”

Trust? Good.

Chrollo’s rosy lips stretched into a genuine smile, “I will. Thank you.” And with that, he excused himself before heading to his room, the soles of his obsidian shoes produced no noise with each step. He wasn’t happy because you seemed to like him, no, Chrollo was happy because you trusted him so easily—probably the biggest mistake you’ve made.

Though, nothing would really change if you didn’t trust him, either way, you’d meet your demise no matter what.

As the new week rolled around, it was no surprise that Chrollo had already memorised your weekly routine—without a doubt, you spent days in the office but he had noted other destinations you frequented.

On Mondays, you visited a cosy flower boutique in the morning, owned by a lovely old florist who’s cheeks were as pink as the camellias neatly displayed on the counter next to her. You only bought one type of flower—white chrysanthemums, a dozen, to be exact; they were carefully wrapped in a simple brown paper, and topped off with an ivory satin ribbon.

On the way back to the car, Chrollo wondered why you chose these specific flowers, and upon asking, you simply replied with:

‘White chrysanthemums symbolise devoted love, and loyalty—something we need more of in this world, don’t you think?’

How ironic. He had no knowledge about flowers but he always thought white chrysanthemums meant death, specifically a symbol of mourning, and grief—a flower fit for one’s grave yet you displayed them in a vase to bring life into your room.

If you were being completely honest, chrysanthemums didn’t hold any significance in your life; one day you decided to visit the flower boutique run by the old lady, and she had told you all about the flower. Oddly enough, you started to grow fond of it.

Chrysanthemums were awfully common in his hometown—Meteor City—and not in a good way; inhabited by untraceable outcasts, it was the perfect hunting ground for illegal activities such as human trafficking, as well as an endless source of disposable hitmen, and assassins like Chrollo himself.

Due to mass abductions, and murders of the people, chrysanthemums were laid out at the church for each victim; he could clearly remember walking down the aisle, a smell so sweet, and minty filled the thick atmosphere. For an aroma so pleasant, who would’ve thought it was associated with such sorrow?

On Tuesdays, you attended your private pilates lesson at 8 AM on the dot which lasted a little under an hour. As usual, Chrollo stayed idly by the entrance of the studio, just at the foyer as the muffled voice of your instructor seeped from under the closed door; this was usually paired with brunch at a local café after, as per your words, ‘a much needed caffeine break’ whatever that meant. He couldn’t care less, he was too busy assessing the layout of the building for an escape route, and potential threats as though he wasn’t the biggest threat here.

The window seat offered a clear view of the street outside, vehicles driving by, people in their own little world as they headed to their destination; not to mention the ample morning sunlight that poured in, allowing you to study Chrollo’s reflection from the glass.

He stood behind you with his back facing the window, scanning the entire café; you watched as his head slowly moved from left to right, then right to left, giving you a peek of his side profile. Your eyes traced every dip, and curve of Chrollo’s face, from the slope of his nose, all the way to the sharpness of his jawline. It was odd how this man—who barely talked to you unless necessary—had piqued your interest. In what way? That was something you were still trying to figure out.

How Chrollo carried himself with silent confidence stood out from the rest of your security team; sure, he was vigilant of his surroundings but each action he displayed was calculated, and clean—too clean. You’ve also noticed how his steps were much lighter than everyone else’s, it made almost no sound as though he was actively stalking a prey. And for a brief moment, you wondered who that prey was.

On Wednesdays, you were present at your father’s company for the whole day. Though, the scowl on your face clearly screamed your opposition; it wasn’t a secret to anyone how uninterested you were in all the business talk—in fact, if anyone were to ask about it, you could probably go on, and on about how boring, and tedious it was, conversely, if asked what you wanted to do in life, you’d probably have a hard time answering.

Alas, as the sole heir, the company automatically fell to your hands whether you liked it or not. Wednesdays were always a drag, having to make acquaintances with investors, and show face during monotonous meetings that rarely concerned you—you’d rather spend time elsewhere.

On Thursdays, you were also at the company but for a different reason. Chrollo only knew you reported straight to your father’s office, and he was often ordered to wait at the ground floor. The meeting with your father always took approximately two hours, and each time, you came out looking like someone had pressed all your buttons.

Though today, for the sake of Chrollo’s own selfish curiosity, seeing as the hallway was deserted, he lingered outside the office for a bit but all he really got was pure silence—either you, and your father conversed in a hushed voice or the walls were soundproof. Whatever the case was, Chrollo didn’t bother sticking around but he was quickly stopped in his tracks as voices from inside were suddenly raised—yours first, followed by your father.

Looking back at the office door, Chrollo heard you shout in opposition, it seemed like the conversation had somewhat turned into a heated argument. Nonetheless, he continued down the hallway—it was none of Chrollo’s business, after all.

“No! I’ve already told you, I’m not doing that!” Loud voice sliced through the growing tension inside the room. The older male—who sat behind his desk—leaned back into the seat, leather groaning beneath his weight as he rubbed his temples at your stubbornness, clearly displeased with how much you were blowing everything out of proportion. You stayed rooted in your spot, just standing a metre away from your father.

“Look, darling, I’ve already agreed—” “Agreed without my consent.” Raising your hands in defeat, you paced around the room, each heavy step muffled by the crimson carpet beneath your soles. “I’m the one getting married to someone I haven’t met! I never even wanted to be in an arranged marriage just because of what—a stupid business partnership?!”

This was the first time you’ve raised your voice at your father; all the years under his care, and guidance, you gladly accepted what was left upon your hands. Continuing the legacy of your father’s company? Sure, no problem, you could deal the burden on your shoulders but marrying a complete stranger?

That was more than crossing a mere boundary.

Your father was a skilled business man, and you never doubted that once—he was excellent at negotiating, and closing deals so for him to stoop as low as agreeing with an arranged marriage for the sake of his company, it baffled you, a lot. What more could he possibly want?

“I’m done with this conversation.”

Letting out a breath you’ve been holding, you turned around, and headed for the door but before reaching the silver handle, your father spoke up from behind, “Next week. You’re attending the corporate event with Euan. That’s final.” All you could do was nod.

Chrollo spotted your rather distressed figure exit the elevator, and head for the car park, not so much sparing a glance as you passed him; nonetheless, he quietly trailed you, steely gaze observing your figure up, and down—shoulders tight, and fists clenched at your side.

You felt defeated.

The thought of spending the rest of your life with a man you didn’t genuinely love, was that really your so-called future? A bond made for the sole purpose of expanding business?

Stepping into the underground car park, you stopped in your tracks, the automatic glass door silently humming as it closed behind you. Naturally, Chrollo did the same but didn’t dare speak up. Click clack. Two clicks from the soles of your shoes as you turned to face your bodyguard with a deflated expression, he could only raise a brow in surprise before you sat on your haunches, and buried your face inside the hearts of your palms.

Oh.

One, two, three seconds—it took Chrollo exactly three seconds to register the sight before him, and he didn’t know what to do; awkwardness settled in the air between the two of you as you sobbed into your hands. He moved closer—taking a few cautious steps as though he walked on eggshells—and squatted down to your level, “Miss?” He called out, his dulcet voice drowned by your soft whimpers, every muscle in Chrollo’s body was stiff, movements unsure.

What was he supposed to do? Reach out, and stroke your hair? Pull you close against his chest? Chrollo was more than sure that doing so was completely unprofessional on his end. So, he was reduced to sitting next to you, silently watching your shoulders shake with each muffled sob until you finally decided to lift your head, “I apologise for acting this way. I’m certain you probably don’t care but—”

Correct. Chrollo did not care.

“My father has been pushing me in an arranged marriage. I kept saying ‘no’ until he went behind my back, and agreed to it. I found out today and I just—I lost it. The benefits of what comes after marriage are endless for the company; more investors, more money, more security but is that really worth sacrificing my shot at finding the one I truly love?”

Saying the words aloud made it sound so silly. Finding your one true love, how naïve, that only happened in children’s fairy tales.

Upon learning the reason for your upset, Chrollo could only nod, he wasn’t the type to console anyone, let alone his employer’s daughter. The last time he could remember doing so was almost a decade, and a half ago during the time his dear friend—Sarasa—went missing.

It was a rainy day in Meteor City, Chrollo remembered hugging his friends tightly, reassuring them that everything was going to be alright even though uncertainty gnawed at his skin.

He was innocent, and didn’t know better then.

But the incident with Sarasa was what fuelled his pure hatred for the wealthy. Chrollo was only a kid, full of limitless joy, and hope despite growing up in poverty. It was during the height of abductions in Meteor City, and that was when he learned that not even his friends were immune from illegal activities after seeing it with his own eyes.

It was broad daylight, and Sarasa had been forced into a car by two large men—as if one wasn’t enough to take a helpless little girl. The worst part was, Chrollo could only stand, and watch as his friend got taken away with nothing but helpless tears in his eyes, and a blazing anger that burned a thousand suns.

He could still recall the way his nails dug into the hearts of his palms, the temporary pain it felt. The incident haunted his coming days, hearing Sarasa’s screams at night, and how she begged for the men to spare her life.

Chrollo overheard from the Elders that the ones behind illegal abductions were the wealthy, and that night, he made a promise to avenge Sarasa—even if it meant taking lives. It was clear the rich were parasites of the world, greedy for money, and power, leaving none behind for the unfortunate.

Chrollo couldn’t bring himself to understand your situation, and emotions—he didn’t have to but some odd part made him want to.

From Fridays to Sundays, you usually spent the time out with friends but as the days came, you remained cooped up inside your room, and only came out unless necessary. The thought of isolating yourself somewhat ate away at Chrollo, despite not being able to fully grasp your situation, he figured it must have been a breaking point for you, and deep down, for some weird reason, he was worried.

This was the first time you’ve shown him an emotion other than happiness—which he presumed was most likely out of professionalism—so seeing your distressed state had him rather curious.

Stationed just outside the doors to your room, Chrollo couldn’t do anything to quench the sparked interest inside him—guarding the entrance of your room was all there was to do which ended up with him drowning in his thoughts while standing idly. Even though Chrollo didn’t understand your sentiment, he knew no one should marry a stranger for the sake of business.

Though, Chrollo didn’t have much time to ponder about your situation as his replacement came walking up the stairs meaning it was the end of his shift for the day. He entertained a brief exchange with his co-worker before heading out.

Walking down the stone path that led to the deserted flower garden, Chrollo dug into the inside pocket of his blazer, and took out a burner phone. As the assassin dialled a number, he was greeted with a view of endless greenery decorated with bright hues from a variety of flowers; the floral aroma wrapped around his body like a fluffy blanket. Somehow, the sweet scent reminded Chrollo of you.

The cheap phone rang once, twice ‘til a familiar voice spilled through its speakers, “I’m guessing you’re here to update me?” The male on the other side of the call questioned. Chrollo agreed, and the line went silent, urging him to give the details.

As he gave a thorough update, Chrollo mindlessly walked down the stone path, various colours making its way to his line of vision. Though, a particular flower caught his eye—a sea of yellow as bright as the morning rays decorated several bushes on the ground. While speaking into the phone, Chrollo squatted down to its level, and examined the delicate flower, Bird’s foot trefoil, the small ivory signage before it read.

Two months, that was the amount of time given to complete the job. It was reasonable enough with the amount of security you were surrounded with, and even though Chrollo was the only bodyguard you took whenever you left the house, Lukas remained by your side as well—he made sure not to underestimate the old timer.

Chrollo had never heard of this man before but from what he knew, he seemed to be about the same age. Why the man was seeking out revenge by targeting your life was also something that remained a mystery—after all, Chrollo was only there to kill, details weren’t necessary when it came to an assassin.

“‘M not gonna tell you how to do your job but remember, time is ticking, and I’m spending a whole lot of money on this, yeah?”

Voicing his agreement before ending the call, he took one last look at the flower, and stood up, heading for the staff house.

It was about time Chrollo hunted for his prey.

With the new week, everyone prepared for the corporate event in a few hours—even Chrollo himself, as well as the rest of the security team was busy scouting the venue, and looking for any potential threats around, and inside the building.

Tonight, he donned a sleek, all black look which was slightly different from the usual white button down, and black suit he wore.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, employees, and important investors began pouring in the building; the inside boasted a formal theme with a lavish teardrop crystal chandelier that mimicked the shine of a thousand diamonds, round tables were draped in ivory cloths which housed a bunch of butterfly pea flowers encased in sleek ceramic vases.

Silence was replaced with melodic laughter, and casual conversations between acquaintances, and co-workers as the vast room was slowly filled with more people.

Having arrived at the venue earlier, Chrollo stood by the entrance, waiting for your arrival. As the familiar vehicle rolled around, Lukas exited the vehicle, and opened the rear passenger door.

Expecting you to come out of the vehicle, Chrollo was caught slightly off-guard when a stranger clad in a navy blue tuxedo did so instead—he donned obsidian strands that carefully framed his handsome face, and piercing honeyed eyes that was sure to make any woman swoon.

The assassin watched as he turned to face the vehicle, and held out a hand to you. Taking up on the polite offer, you held his hand, and gracefully stepped out of the vehicle. And there you were, in all your serene beauty, skin glowing beneath the warm streetlights that made Chrollo inhale a sharp breath for some odd reason.

“Thank you, Euan.” You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Euan? Chrollo thought.

With how he lovingly kissed the back of your hand, and from the way you forced a smile, it wasn’t hard to piece together that this was the man you were forced to marry. Somehow, Chrollo felt a tinge of annoyance spark within the depths of his chest—maybe because he was aware of the whole arranged marriage situation or maybe because he was yet in the presence of another stuck up, pompous spoiled person.

Euan interlaced his fingers with yours before heading towards the entrance, Chrollo didn’t miss the way the diamond ring on your finger twinkled like stars in the night sky. Surprisingly, Euan acknowledged Chrollo with a dip of his chin; you mirrored your date’s action, and only then did the assassin respond in the same way.

The event was boring as one would have expected, your father—the CEO—mostly talked about the company’s milestones up on the podium, he held a champagne flute in one hand filled with golden liquid while entertaining the room with uneventful accomplishments. Though, what you didn’t expect tonight was for your father to openly reveal your arranged marriage with Euan in front of your subordinates, and investors,

“It’s my pleasure to announce that the COO of D&J—my daughter—is soon to be wed with Mr. Euan Heston from Heston Enterprises.”

As endless applause, and supportive smiles filled the venue, you sat frozen on your seat, unable to muster even the tiniest smile. From the corner of your vision, you could see Euan bashfully nodding his head, and shaking hands with those in neighbouring tables as they congratulated him. You stared at your father in complete disdain which only prompted a forced smile from him.

Unbelievable.

A shaky breath escaped your lips before swallowing the raging emotions, pushing them down, down, down to the depths of your core, and as though a switch inside you was flipped, a smile stretched across your face, throwing out thank you’s to those who offered their support.

With the end of the CEO’s speech, and certain formalities, all that’s left was to mix, and mingle with everyone else which—thankfully—Euan did while you quietly sneaked away to the open bar. Although, visibly drowning yourself in more champagne only invited more guests to come, and gush about the weighted ring on your finger, not to mention how openly they adored Euan.

Hearing such high praise thrown his way, you caught yourself staring at your soon-to-be husband; you watched as he gracefully waltzed from table to table, engaging in polite conversations with not only the important people in the room but also with your subordinates.

Euan was well-mannered, kind, and respectful—he was everything your father wanted as your husband but he wasn’t made for you, and deep down, you knew that.

From the corner of the room, Chrollo watched it all unfold. From the way you stiffened beneath everyone’s stares as your father revealed the marriage, all the way to your gaze finding Euan amongst the crowd. He felt weird.

Albeit subtle, Chrollo sensed it was there—as though a foreign seed had been planted in his chest waiting for it to grow, and destroy him from inside out. Whether it produced the fruit of anger, revenge or some other emotion in the dictionary, he couldn’t tell, all he knew was it took root inside his heart.

As Chrollo got lost in his thoughts for a bit, he was greeted with an empty barstool that was previously occupied by you; he scanned the vast room, stone cold eyes darting from left to right, and right to left trying to catch a glimpse of your familiar figure.

Slight panic didn’t settle in until Chrollo realised that you were nowhere to be seen—the feeling began to gnaw at his very bones as the attempts of finding your whereabouts led to a dead end, he even went as far as asking a woman standing just outside the bathroom if she’s seen you walk in but only shook her head.

Wide, panicked steps, Chrollo unceremoniously crossed the room in search of you while almost bumping into several guests in a nervous haze; he muttered out whispered apologies, gaze remaining ahead. His heart thumped loudly against his ears, serving as a mere distraction to throw off his already breaking composure.

God, your father would absolutely kill him if he were to find out that he’d lost sight of you.

But Chrollo wasn’t scared of that, not even an ounce of fear in his body at the thought of your father’s wrath, instead, he worried for your safety; the more minutes passed without a trace of you, the more frustration consumed every fibre of him.

The only option left was to check the balcony.

With a bated breath, he opened the sliding door, a gentle, cool breeze of the night greeted him like a welcome hug. His gaze scanned the open area which—thankfully—landed on your familiar figure, you stood there, leaning against the metal railing while looking up at the obsidian skies.

Relief briefly washed over Chrollo as he let out a sigh but this feeling was soon replaced with red, hot anger.

He stalked over to where you stood, each step heavy with annoyance, “Where have you been? I was looking all over for you! Don’t run off like that.”

The ever calm, and collected bodyguard coming for your neck with such ferocity caught you off guard, not to mention the obvious bite in his tone. With furrowed brows, you turned to face Chrollo, a look of disbelief painted on your face. The audacity of this man. Who the hell was he to boss you around as though you were his subordinate?

“That’s ‘miss’ for you—” You crossed your arms, head slightly tilted upwards as you looked down at him from your nose.

“And relax, Chrollo. I’m not harmed. I don’t see what the fuss is about.” You were absolutely right, and Chrollo hated that you were because he didn’t know where else to channel his anger, if anything, your words doused the flame inside his chest with gasoline, allowing it to expand, and burn an azure fire.

Despite his better judgement, Chrollo let it consume him, “Relax? I’m your bodyguard, it’s my duty to keep you safe, and out of danger! What if something happens to you, and I’m not around, hm?”

Chrollo felt the foreign seed inside his chest grow into uncertainty—an odd feeling he’s never felt before. Speaking out like this, and losing his cool over a situation was out of character for him but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to stop, as though words willingly flew out of his throat, and out into the open.

“Exactly, you’re only a bodyguard. You have no right to act this way towards me. Have you forgotten I’m not your equal?” You retorted, dishing out the same amount of ferocity he had given you.

Initially, you were going to let the whole thing slide, it was understandable where Chrollo was coming from—he was only doing his job—but it pissed you off seeing as how he had the audacity to act like that.

You looked up at the taller man, gaze not backing down from his steely ones; it took him a couple of seconds to hold your stare before breaking it, and looking off to the dark horizon. Though, you swore you saw his eyes subtly dip down for a split second before doing so—you weren’t too sure, maybe it was the darkness playing tricks.

You were right. Chrollo was only a bodyguard, so did he cross the line? The unclear answer made him all the more furious but for now, he’d have to settle for the explanation that he’s your bodyguard, and he has the right to worry about your safety. Even if Chrollo himself didn’t entirely believe this reason.

“You’re right. I apologise for crossing any boundaries, miss.”

Chrollo stationed himself near the sliding door, offering you space to enjoy the quiet night in peace. Now, you felt kind of bad for raising your voice at him when he clearly showed nothing but concern; you chalked it up to the stress your father weighed upon you tonight—the decision to tell everyone about the marriage, Euan being your date for tonight, the engagement ring that wrapped around your finger.

It was clear that Chrollo was still bothered about the whole thing, you could see it from the way his jaw tightened, and the subtle crease between his brows. Whatever. You’ll deal with it later.

A petty argument. That was it. But why did it have Chrollo all worked up? Why was he extremely bothered about it? Hell, where was that useless fiancé of yours, and why wasn’t he looking after you? Questions swirled in his mind, chaotic, and uncertain—now, Chrollo was really wondering why he was acting this way. In his twenty-six years of living, never had he felt this feeling before, it stemmed from his chest, blooming across his body, and consuming him in an unpleasant, foreign way.

The feeling stayed rooted inside even until reaching the estate where he stood guarding the door to your room.

Chrollo rubbed his forefinger, and thumb together while staring at the marbled tiles beneath his feet, it was past midnight now, and the only sound heard was the thumping of his own heart—the rhythmic beat that somewhat got louder with each passing minute.

He was soon reeled back into reality at the sound of the door opening behind him. Stepping out of your room, Chrollo watched as the darkness unclasped your body from its confines; he quickly averted his gaze at your vulnerable state—clad in a flimsy ivory nightgown that stopped just below the knees with satin ribbon straps comfortably sitting on your shoulders. He felt it was rather inappropriate seeing you in such an attire.

“Ahem. Anything you need, miss?” Chrollo coughed into his fist, staring at the darkness behind you instead of holding the gaze thrown his way.

Letting out a sigh, you replied, “I think I need to clear my head a bit . . Care to join me for a night drive? That way you’ll know my whereabouts.” The end of your sentence had a tinge of bitterness laced with it but Chrollo shrugged it off, it’d be no use trying to pick up where the two of you left off earlier.

“I take it as a yes, then? Meet me at the garage.” With that, you walked down the stairs, the thin fabric of your nightgown swaying with each step taken.

Chrollo quickly headed to the staff house to grab the keys to his assigned vehicle. Making his way to the door, he immediately stopped in his tracks as a sudden idea popped into mind—the gun hidden beneath his pillows.

Chrollo stared at his bed before swiftly lifting the ivory pillow, revealing a pistol given to him upon acquiring the bodyguard role. Without a word, he tucked it inside the holster beneath the obsidian blazer he donned, and walked out of the bedroom, heading for the garage.

Disappearing into the night, an odd feeling engulfed Chrollo—he wondered whether the gun on his hip portrayed him as your bodyguard or as your assassin.

Something he has never thought about before because it had always been the latter, regardless of the situation. Nonetheless, the weapon felt awfully heavy hanging onto him—as though it was a great burden that took an even greater effort to get rid of.

The drive was awkward, and there was no set destination; the only instruction you gave Chrollo was to keep driving, and he did, without questions asked. The only sound that filled the vehicle was the low humming of the engine which lulled you further into your thoughts, warm streetlights would illuminate the inside which allowed Chrollo to sneak brief glances at you through the rearview mirror. He didn’t want to pry but it was clear you were overwhelmed with a lot of things.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology caught Chrollo off guard, stone cold gaze looking through the mirror to meet your own for a split second. “Miss?” He furrowed his brows. “For earlier. I said some harsh words as well, and you were only doing your job. So, I apologise.” Now, it was your turn to steal glances through the rearview mirror. Chrollo’s expression remained unchanged—most likely trying to find an appropriate answer.

He shook his head, fully aware you peered at him through the mirror, “It’s no big deal . . It wasn’t my place to raise my voice. As you said earlier, I’m just a bodyguard.” Chrollo’s eyes remained on the road ahead, enveloped by the night, he didn’t know why it suddenly became hard to glance through the mirror—maybe it was the unmistakable knowledge that you’d be staring straight back.

Was he nervous?

Impossible. There was no such emotion in his dictionary.

“It’s just—the whole announcing the marriage with Euan in front of all the guests stressed me out. The marriage is set in stone without my permission, and I just feel so helpless . .” You watched the outside view go by, dull colours of the night blending into a blurry haze.

“I know the arrangement has benefits. I know that.” It was directed more to yourself than Chrollo, as though some part of you agreed with the marriage.

“Euan is . . He’s sweet—a kind soul but I cannot see myself loving him, spending the rest of my life with him.” The assassin gripped the wheel a little tighter at the mention of your fiancé. “I don’t think anyone should ever go through that.” He cleared his throat, stealing another glance at you.

“You mentioned a while ago—” Chrollo spoke up, deciding to deviate the topic from Euan. “That the marriage would benefit the company ‘more security’ . .” He trailed off, realising how he’s prying but you didn’t seem to mind with how openly you replied.

“Long story short, my father had a very close friend—Mr. Driscoll—in the industry. It was later revealed that he was involved in money laundering so most of his assets came from illegal dealings. My father played a significant role in his arrest—basically, Driscoll was stupid enough to tell my father of his underground ties, urging him to do it as well. But my father had tipped the police instead. Naturally, his son, Ciaran Driscoll—who’s now the CEO of the company—saw us in a bad light, and it won’t take long until he makes my father pay for the damages done.”

“The arranged marriage with Euan would obviously combine our security team with theirs which would decrease the chances of Ciaran, and any other dangers from getting near my father, and I.”

Yet Chrollo was here—an assassin tasked to kill you—who easily took on the role of your personal bodyguard.

How ironic.

You really did need that extra security from the Hestons.

“Ciaran Driscoll?” Chrollo muttered the name under his breath which you quickly caught onto. “Yeah. Ciaran Driscoll from Driscoll Pharmaceuticals, you know him?” He wouldn’t necessarily say he knew him but Chrollo was awfully familiar with the name—familiar enough to conclude that Ciaran was the one who hired him to kill you.

Despite meeting at a deserted location back then—nowhere near that gave any hints of Ciaran’s real identity—one of his subordinates had addressed him by his last name which Chrollo immediately picked up.

The pieces fit flawlessly. It made sense for Ciaran to get revenge for Mr. Driscoll’s arrest by targeting what your father held most dear in his life—you. And for that to happen, Chrollo was the middle man, the one to fuel the chaos between two families.

If he got the job done.

“No.” Chrollo lied. “Just thought the last name rang a bell.”

“Understandable, they’re a household name. Well, it used to be.”

Short silence filled the vehicle yet again, both left to their own thoughts before you spoke up, albeit, it was more of thinking aloud, “I truly don’t know what I want in life.” Odd. Chrollo always thought that if one was wealthy, they’d be able to wish for anything, and everything yet somehow, even with all the gold in your hands, you were still lost.

Chrollo pitied you, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

Hell, he didn’t even know whether it was appropriate to reply. What did he know? He was someone born into poverty who didn’t have the luxury to question himself about what he wanted in life, just having to see another was already a blessing itself. Well, it wasn’t like the outcasts of society were given a choice on how to lead one’s life anyway.

The car fell in another silence but this time it was much longer, long enough for Chrollo to glance at the rearview mirror to see your eyes closed, and head leaning against the window, the rhythmic rise, and fall of your chest indicating the slumber you were in.

It was almost laughable how Chrollo was able to prove his theory right—that the rich were greedy for an even greater amount of money, the obvious example was the ex-CEO of Driscoll Pharmaceuticals, Ciaran’s father.

Chrollo’s grip on the wheel tightened, leather burning against his palms at the mere thought of dirty business. Illegal dealings. It was possible he had a hand in Sarasa's kidnapping. Mr. Driscoll didn’t belong in jail, no, he belonged before the barrel of Chrollo’s gun.

Taking another glance at your sleeping form, Chrollo quietly pulled over to the side of the road, putting the car in park before twisting his torso to face you. Warm streetlights casted a gentle glow upon your features, piercing grey eyes carefully tracing each one as though you were a divine creature—otherworldly, and beautiful.

You looked so peaceful, and undisturbed. Vulnerable.

While his eyes remained on you, Chrollo slowly slid a hand inside his blazer, reaching for the gun affixed by his hip.

The assassin pulled it out, pointing the barrel to your head, the weapon cool against the warmth of his hand. In, and out, he drew steady breaths, forefinger hovering over the trigger—one pull, and it’d be over.

The problem was, Chrollo couldn’t do it.

He has pulled the trigger countless times as though it was second nature, so why couldn’t he do it now? He couldn’t even bring himself to let his digit touch it.

As you stirred in your sleep, Chrollo swiftly tucked the gun back in his holster, and faced forward. Shaky, uneven breaths slipped past his parted lips, the sound of his heartbeat clouding his senses.

Hands balling into fists, he wondered what had gotten into him, mind racing with a million thoughts as he drowned in pure uncertainty. Chrollo stared at his hands—the same hands that have spilled blood countless times, the same hands that killed without a second thought, the same hands that were tasked to murder you.

Yet here he was, unable to do so as if it were his first time.

“Chrollo?” You mumbled aloud. As you peeled your eyes open, you tried to register your surroundings. “Why did we stop? Is there something wrong?”

He cleared his throat, taking a quick glance through the rearview mirror before shaking his head, “No, miss. I just had to take a quick call, my apologies.” With that, Chrollo pulled away from the side of the road, taking you back to the estate.

The ride home was silent. Fortunately for Chrollo, this gave him the opportunity to calm his thoughts, and steady his growing breaths.

Obviously this has never happened before, especially while out on a mission; it made sense for the assassin to lose his cool a bit after hesitating. If anything, it was akin to a bird suddenly losing the ability to fly when flying was the only thing it knew. To make things worse, Chrollo had just broken the unspoken rule of the underworld—to never hesitate.

To the underworld, hesitating meant fragility, and fragility meant that the enemy had the upper hand. He was confused, and conflicted, more so upset at himself for being such a coward—why was he a coward?

After returning to the estate, you softly called out to Chrollo who was heading to the staff house, “Do you want to come inside?” All it took was that foreign look in your face for him to fully understand what you meant.

He didn’t have to assume anything—you’ve never looked at Chrollo with such a burning gaze, full of intent, and vulnerability. God, it was a brazen move to do so but you wished he agreed. All you needed was a little company at the moment.

Something in the air shifted. Maybe it was because you were both stripped of your layers, baring your defenceless forms out in the open. Maybe it was the way Chrollo’s rational thinking became compromised on the way home. Or maybe it was how you oddly felt comfortable around his presence, as though he was a lifelong friend.

Nonetheless, Chrollo found himself inside your bedroom, and as expected, it was grand, spacious, fit for a billionaire’s daughter. Sweet aroma of fresh chrysanthemum’s filled the air but it was nothing like he had remembered back in Meteor City which was laced with grief, and sorrow. Instead, it enveloped Chrollo in a warm welcoming hug, he could finally understand your interpretation of chrysanthemums—devoted love, and loyalty.

Moonlight spilled from the windows, illuminating the side of Chrollo’s face. He was just standing there yet he mirrored the divinity of an angel as soft shadows contoured his handsome face, dark eyes gleaming beneath the dulcet glow; you’ve never been able to decipher the emotions behind his gaze but tonight was different, his stare was soft mixed with hint of uncertainty; Chrollo wore his heart on his sleeves.

“Help me escape even for a little while.”

Like the obedient bodyguard he was, he nodded. Chrollo took one step closer, reaching out a hand to gently undo one of the satin ribbon straps. The flimsy fabric gracefully slid off your right shoulder, just enough to expose your pert nipple. It hardened beneath the cool evening air which had Chrollo swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing with pure excitement, and hunger; oh, how he couldn’t wait to put his lips on your skin, and devour you.

Wasting no time to undo the other ribbon strap, your nightgown instantly fell to the carpeted floors, the fabric pooling around your feet, leaving you almost completely bare in front of Chrollo.

Your skin grew feverish beneath his observant stare as he traced every dip, and curve, dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. After a heartbeat or two, Chrollo’s lips were on your skin, palms finding home just above your waist; he placed gentle kisses down the side of your neck as though on a mission to mark you, pulling dainty gasps in the process.

You tasted absolutely divine—like a hopeful prayer between his lips, and he craved for more. Soft smacks slowly filled your ears as he praised you with kisses. Down, down, down Chrollo’s lips went before stopping at the junction of your neck, he gave the sensitive skin an experimental lick to which you responded with a heated gasp of his name.

Tilting your head to the side allowed more freedom for Chrollo to explore; hands coming up to tangle with his raven strands, and tug at it urged him to mark your skin with hues of dark purple, and red.

And he did. Gentle, wet kisses turned into rough, electric ones as Chrollo used both teeth, and tongue to nip, and suck at your skin.

“Chrollo—!”

The assassin could only grunt in response as he carved himself onto your skin like knife on wood—over, and over again ‘til it left a lasting mark. And when you stare at these sinful hues in the mirror, you’d be reminded of the feel of his lips, how his kisses turned your legs into a wobbly mess, and mind into a lustful haze.

Embarrassing, warm wetness pooled on the fabric of your panties as Chrollo neared your breasts, you watched with a bated breath, and keen eyes as he wrapped his lips around a mound—the sinful sight of Chrollo trying to take in as much of it as he could had your legs buckling, you were sure to have met the floor if it weren’t for his firm hold.

You let out a soft moan at the feel of his hot tongue swirling around your nipple, teeth gently grazing the sensitive spot which sent lightning down the length of your spine.

Eager hands tugged at the roots of his obsidian strands, nails raking across his scalp; it was beyond lewd how you readily pushed your bare body into Chrollo’s face—a man you’ve only known for less than a month yet here he was, wicked lips made of fire against your naked skin that melted like ice.

A large hand snaked its way up your front, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and pausing just beneath the other breast before cupping it wholly—the heart of his palm rubbing against your sensitive nipple as he massaged, and toyed with the fat.

Without an ounce of shame left in inside you, you wantonly moaned his name at the feel of his lips, and hand making love to your chest, it had Chrollo twitching in his slacks but he paid no mind to it because tonight was about ravishing your body until no one else could compare—not even Euan Heston.

Chrollo didn’t know what this meant for the both of you after but that was okay because once the night ends, your body would crave for none but him, and only him.

Chrollo let go of your swollen, wet breast with a soft pop, he looked up through his lashes before licking his lips, as though he just devoured the tastiest meal of his life.

Working his way down your torso, he placed chaste kisses down the valley of your breasts, steadily sinking to his knees as he descended further, each passing second growing closer to your heat—where you needed him the most.

Before Chrollo could kiss the intimate spot just below your belly button, you cupped his face, making him look up at you with slight confusion,

“On the bed . .”

Three words was all he needed to understand before standing to his full height, “Jump.” Chrollo ordered. You didn’t need to be told twice before doing so, arms, and legs wrapping around him while he supported your weight.

As Chrollo sauntered to the bed, you used the time to eagerly explore the spot beneath his ear, using teeth, and tongue to suck at it which pulled a few soft sighs from him. His intoxicating scent filled your senses, the sweet minty aroma from chrysanthemums mixed with his musky perfume had you groaning into his skin.

He shuddered at the feeling, the tips of his fingers digging further into the fat of your ass.

Gently laying you down on the pillows beneath, he stared at the serene beauty before him, steely eyes drinking in your nakedness. Chrollo’s stare felt like you stood directly under the blazing sun on a summer day, igniting your skin to the core without anywhere to take cover but you liked it, you liked the feeling of his hungry stare, how he looked at you like fresh meat on a silver platter—a predator, and his prey.

As if to put on a show, Chrollo hastily shrugged off his blazer, mindlessly throwing it on the floor, leaving him with a white button down. He caught a glimpse of your lust-clouded gaze staring at the gun affixed to his hip to which he immediately removed by unclasping the holster.

The weapon landed on the floor with a heavy thud, you paid no mind to it but for Chrollo, it served as a harsh reminder of his real motive, and everything that would happen tonight was nothing but an insignificant moment in his life.

At least that's what he convinced himself this was.

The mattress groaned beneath Chrollo’s weight as he dipped down, wasting no time to connect his lips on your bare skin, and picking up where he left off—right below your belly button.

He kissed at it before wickedly pulling the waistband of your panties using his lips, and letting go of it to snap against your skin. A small gasp escaped your lips at the feel of the slight burning sensation which had you aching for more; it also didn’t help how his hot breath ghosted over the most intimate part of your body.

Though, before you could open your mouth, and beg, Chrollo hooked a forefinger around the waistband, and swiftly tugged it down the length of your legs, wet cunt squeezing at nothing as the cool air embraced its heat.

Chrollo took his time to enjoy the bare sight before him by placing open-mouthed kisses dangerously near your sopping cunt—on your inner thighs, below your belly button, and the spot just above your clit. It had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, fingers digging into the sheets beneath; what a wicked, wicked man, he hasn’t even properly touched you yet here you were, legs shaking from all the teasing.

Pride bloomed across his chest at the sight of you—the fucked out expression you donned, the heavy rise, and fall of your chest, and the dainty whimpers that filled the air.

Hooking his hands behind your knees, Chrollo gently pushed them towards your chest ‘til you were folded in half, glistening cunt deliciously exposed for him to devour.

A wanton moan slipped past your lips as Chrollo traced his tongue around the outside of your clit before laying the wet muscle flat against it. He expertly rubbed at the sensitive nub, lewd sounds mixed with your shameless moans engulfed his ears, encouraging him to further stimulate the spot.

Your hips bucked against his face, hands flying down to his hair as the electric sensation returned to your body, sending massive jolts of lightning down the curve of your spine.

“Chrollo, right there! Yes—haah!” You gasped as he switched to the tip of his tongue to lick at your clit.

Chrollo placed his thumb, and forefinger on either side of your clit for better access before moving his tongue side-to-side, across the area beneath the clitoral hood, resulting in a broader stimulation that had you stiffening with pure pleasure.

Looking down at the sinful view between your legs, you let out a loud moan as Chrollo met your eyes through his hooded ones. Without a doubt, ecstasy slowly consumed both his body, and mind with how he subtly rocked his hips against the mattress—cock aching for any kind of contact but Chrollo had to focus more on holding your hips down while you unceremoniously thrashed around, trying to slow your impending orgasm.

As Chrollo continued his torture, it didn’t take long for you to let pleasure consume your body as a whole, and cum on his tongue.

He drank in your pleasured state—lips parted, brows furrowed, and back arched off the mattress; the orgasm that hit you was intense, as though your whole body has been electrified, and the only way to respond was by moaning his name like a sacred prayer in hopes you keep you grounded to reality.

Relishing the taste of your essence on his tongue, he closed his eyes, humming against your sensitive nub in complete satisfaction which had your legs shaking, and hands attempting to push his head away. He gave a few more gentle licks before pulling away, revealing his chin completely drenched in your filthy arousal—Chrollo paid no mind, simply bringing a hand up to his face to wipe at it.

You watched through a lustful haze as Chrollo finally worked on his shirt, each button undone growing closer, and closer to exposing the entirety of his torso.

As he shrugged the fabric off, you couldn’t help but reach out to touch his bare skin—it was pale, fascinatingly chiselled, and scarred; Chrollo’s torso was decorated with a few raised, discoloured patches here, and there indicating the rough past he had. He stared as you traced a scar with your forefinger—a ghostly touch that brought a shudder down his spine—but before you could move onto the next one, Chrollo gently grabbed your wrist, and brought it up to his face, placing a chaste kiss on the heart of your palm.

By no means was he insecure about those scars, in fact, he proudly wore them like a badge, to serve as a reminder that the rest of the world wasn’t his friend.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

The kiss from Chrollo was different—different from the one Euan had given you during the company event. Yes, the latter was full of sincerity but it didn’t bring warmth to your face like Chrollo’s one had.

Or maybe it was just because of how lost you were in pure lust, unable to decipher even the simplest feelings.

“Tonight is all about you.”

Chrollo shouldn’t be doing this, it goes against his beliefs, and goals—against the very reason why he turned into the person who he was right now.

Mingling with the wealthy, even going to an extent as to have sex with you, if his younger self saw him right now, he wouldn’t be able to believe it.

But what was it about you that had Chrollo rewriting his rules? Why was he so willing to throw away the deep rooted anger inside his heart to pleasure you?

Moreso, what did he gain from all this?—not money, not power, definitely not the justice he sought.

Nonetheless, Chrollo threw those thoughts in the moonlit window—he’d grab them again later at the crack of dawn while guilt eats him alive. Slowly, he dipped his hands below his torso, fumbling with the zipper of his slacks; Chrollo felt your heated stare on his crotch, how your short breaths quickened as he tantalisingly pulled the metal zip down, the sound echoed along with your breathing, allowing Chrollo to bask in your desperation.

You thanked the stars above as he bared himself without anymore teasing, articles of clothing that once hugged his body were now strewn across the floor of your room like unmended pieces of oneself.

Moonlight surrounded Chrollo like a serene aura, an angelic-like glow that had his skin radiating beneath the celestial gleam, turning his hair into the colour of the first starlight. It was hard to focus on his heavenly appearance when sin was right between his legs.

“Do you want me to stop?”

No, god, no, just the thought of Chrollo completely leaving you high, and dry brought tears to your eyes. Shaking your head vigorously, he crawled atop your lust-fuelled body before placing a chaste kiss on your temple then onto your nose, trailing further down ‘til he reached the valley of your breasts. You let out a shudder as Chrollo lapped his way down, not forgetting to tease at your pebbled nipples by giving them a light nip.

“Chrollo, please . .” For once, this was different from what was usually thrown his way—most people begged for their lives as they stared down the barrel of his gun with pure horror in their eyes, lips disturbingly quivering as they pleaded during their last moments.

Wasting no time, Chrollo met your gaze once more, his face mere centimetres from yours. You gasped as his cockhead gently prodded at your entrance as he reached down between your bodies, he rubbed it a few more times, the sinful contact earning low grunts, and moans from both of you.

Chrollo connected his forehead with yours, damp obsidian hair ghosting over your warmed cheeks, holding it in a gentle caress

Letting out a shaky breath, his cock slowly pushed your folds apart as he inched in. Immediately, your legs curled around the dip of his bare waist, interlocking behind his lower back; your hasty movement jolted Chrollo forward which forced his cock further into the plush of your velvety walls.

He sighed, cursing the eye rolling pleasure sent his body into a pathetic tremble. Though, you were no better, clenching around Chrollo every time he pushed deeper—not only did it test his sanity but it also tested his patience.

He reminded himself a million times that simply fucking you like a mere cocksleeve was not his intention for tonight. Or ever. Rich or not, you were still a woman after all, one deserving of nothing but genuine pleasure.

As Chrollo bottomed out, he held your starry gaze, watching as your eyes glistened with tears—whether it was from the bliss his cock had you under or from sadness, he had no idea.

You felt so full, as though the gaping void inside you had been magically sealed—his cock sat there unmoving yet it hit all the right spots, the ones that had you trembling a little harder, and moaning a little louder.

Hot breaths mingled as the two of you let out heavy pants, he stilled inside your wet cunt, allowing both himself, and you to adjust to the feeling, “You’re so tight—fuck.” You gave your hips an experimental rut at his words which pulled a long hiss from him, brows furrowing together.

After a heartbeat or two, Chrollo slowly pulled out, the languid drag of his cock against the plush of your walls had you whining in the shape of his name. It went straight to his cock, twitching at the pornographic sound you let out—if you noticed, you didn’t let on, you were too focused on the way he moved inside you.

With only the tip remaining, Chrollo pushed his hips using the same pace; all the way until he disappeared in your folds once again, heavy balls kissing the skin of your ass.

You could feel the entirety of his length—every dip, and curve which had your legs shaking, and toes curling a little harder. Chrollo’s cock was slightly curved upward which allowed an easy reach to your sweet spot, and with every languid thrust he gave you, his cockhead kissed it repeatedly.

Hands that were pinned to the pillows were released as Chrollo brought a hand to caress your cheek while the other supported his weight. You leaned into his fiery touch, as if doing so was going to ground you from cloud nine.

Setting a deep, slow pace, Chrollo’s face remained a breath away from yours—he kept eye contact, nothing but an endless pit of alluring onyx that pulled you further into the ocean of bliss. Every languid stroke pulled oxygen from your lungs, it had you desperately gasping for air, one which only Chrollo could quench by whispering sweet nothings mere inches from your parted lips.

Mixed with breathless sighs of pleasure was the soft creaking of the bed frame which sung in unison beneath the weight of your rocking bodies. The air grew impossibly thick, and hot allowing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to your bare back but you didn’t care, not when Chrollo fucked you into the mattress as if the sun was going to burn out tomorrow.

You pulled him closer, arms instinctively wrapping around his torso to decorate his back with crimson streaks.

The sharp sting of your nails fuelled Chrollo’s drive—he picked up the pace but remained bottoming out with every powerful thrust, causing your body to jolt in response.

You clung to him tighter, legs painfully locked behind his back as he did his best to move in, and out of your sopping cunt. You were close, and despite Chrollo taking you for the first time, he knew—he could feel your body stiffen with each passing second, the way your greedy cunt grew impossibly tighter, making it hard for him move, and not to mention your broken cries of his name so close to his ears that those were all he could hear.

“I’m so near—god, please don’t stop, Chrollo—!” You sounded so vulnerable, so bare it made his cock twitch.

Greed consuming his pleasured state, Chrollo wrapped an arm around your shoulders, deftly snaking it between the mattress, and your back. He pulled you closer, the weight of your limp torso straining against his curled limb while the other supported his own body.

Chrollo cradled your head with his palm, pushing your face closer to his ‘til the tip of his nose brushed your own. Oh, how tempted he was to kiss the very lips that cried out his name as if he were your saving grace—an angel with his hand stretched out to you.

Barely a whisper above the heavy breaths you exchanged, your name smoothly rolled off his tongue. It was the first time Chrollo did so, and god how addictive it sounded; you shuddered at it, his dulcet voice engulfing the entirety of your being right down to your very core.

“You’ve been so good, are you going to cum? To let go, for me?”

With the minute space left between the two of you, you vigorously nodded your head, too fucked to care about the desperation that seeped from your skin like sweat. Chrollo moaned at your wordless response, fingers slightly curling at the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp,

“Haah—! That’s right, give in to it.”

And you did.

With a final drive of his hips, you came undone—the pressure that’s been slowly building up finally bursting inside you.

A broken moan escaped your lips, body arching closer to his as you let your orgasm take you beyond cloud nine.

As if you weren’t already breathless from panting like a whore, Chrollo greedily pressed his lips against your quivering ones to capture them in a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft, and sensual, like it was sculpted by the goddess of love herself. He greedily drank in every moan, and whimper you had to offer, claiming them as his own prized possession to keep. Chrollo’s pace faltered at the feel of your cum coating his cock in a warm embrace—a feeling he’s been deprived off, a feeling he didn’t know he needed.

Pulling away from the kiss, he spoke, breathless, “I’m close—fuck. Where do y—” “Inside.” Chrollo swallowed thickly with your legs tightening around him. It dizzied him, the thought of you so willing to let your insides be marked by him without a second thought.

A small gasp escaped you as he gently set you down onto the mattress, his cockhead brushing your sensitive spot. With his orgasm near, Chrollo dropped his body on top of your own, torsos flush against each other as he trapped you with his weight.

With his own pleasure in mind, Chrollo gave short, hasty thrusts, desperately rutting his hips to chase the growing bliss. The only option for you was to lay there, and moan his name from overstimulation; with his weight on yours, you couldn’t squirm your way out of the immense pleasure.

“I’m here—ngh! ‘M close.” Chrollo whispered into your ear, a hint of apology laced his tone, most likely from how overstimulated you were.

After a few more desperate thrusts, he stilled, sheathing his cock all the way inside your cunt, you felt him twitch before releasing his load with a low moan.

Feeling his hot cum paint your walls white, you mirrored the sound he made. Loud, wet squelches filled the room as Chrollo rode out his high, effectively fucking his cum deeper.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, letting your bodies bathe in serene moonlight. You laid beneath him, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat pound away against his ribcage, it effectively lulled you to the borders of sleep, your heavy eyelids slowly closing in exhaustion.

Though, before you could fully close them, Chrollo rolled off your body with a soft grunt, his cock slipping out in the process. The loss of contact had you clenching around nothing at the feel of his cum slowly seeping out of your cunt. Before you could speak up, Chrollo beat you to it,

“I should go.” He cleared his throat, voice low, a hint of sadness laced in his tone. Though, you didn’t catch on. Chrollo quietly gathered his clothes, putting them on layer by layer until he was fully clothed. An indiscernible emotion washed over you as he made his way to the door, each quiet step taken tugging at an invisible string tangled in your heart. Oddly enough, it stung.

“Yeah . .” You nodded in a daze.

The lack of response from your end tore at Chrollo’s insides—it made sense, after all, he was nothing but a quick fuck, what did he expect? For you to convince him to stay the night? That was beyond delusional.

As Chrollo reached for the handle, you called his name out of instinct. His heart skipped a beat. “Yes, miss . . ?” He spoke your title in a small voice, unsure which name was appropriate in this situation.

“Thank you.”

That was all you could muster. What else was there anyway? Chrollo wasn’t a person you were supposed to be sleeping with in the first place, nor was he your lover who you could be intimate with after sex.

He was nothing but a bodyguard, and will remain your bodyguard. Whatever happened in this room was to be forgotten.

The sound of the door clicking reached your ears, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. His scent lingered in the air, becoming one with the sweet aroma of chrysanthemums.

Within the next coming days, you were right, and wrong. Right because in the face of others, the professional relationship between you, and Chrollo remained—a bodyguard, and his principal.

Wrong because stupidly enough, the both of you had not forgotten what happened a couple of nights back. The days were filled with stolen glances, and stuttering heartbeats, you couldn’t stand by idly while your heart yearned for your bodyguard.

At first, you convinced yourself that this feeling was purely lust-driven, it was only natural to seek out Chrollo’s presence after a night with him.

You believed it for a week.

One whole week until you felt your heart clenching at the sight of your bodyguard exchanging a conversation with one of the maids. Chrollo was all smiles, the kind that reached his eyes; the maid wasn’t any better, an obvious blush extending from her cheeks to her ears said it all.

He never smiled at you like that.

Why was he treating you—his boss—any different? Chrollo was always nonchalant with you, barely any words spoken yet here he was animatedly cracking jokes left, and right like he had some kind of alter ego. It pissed you off.

More so, being angry at the fact that Chrollo treated you differently upset you even more. At best, this was a trivial matter, something you shouldn’t even think about.

But you couldn’t let go of it, not when he gazed at you the same way he had done so that night.

Within the next week, you’d realise that merely having Chrollo by your side wasn’t enough.

On Monday, you did your best to converse with him while buying chrysanthemums at the boutique, even going as far as giving him a flower from your bouquet, hoping that he’d think of you whenever he looked at it.

On Wednesday, instead of asking your personal assistant to grab your lunch, you took Chrollo instead, and headed out the office which gave you more alone time with him.

And by Friday, you couldn’t take it anymore. You called Chrollo into your bedroom late at night after finding the courage to do so. Naturally, he stood inside as if he didn’t have you filling the room with your own moans two weeks ago.

The familiar sweet scent of chrysanthemums filled his lungs, taking him back to the pleasure-filled night with you. Chrollo pushed the thought down, deeming it extremely inappropriate, especially being alone with you like this, again.

He swallowed as you pat the empty spot next to you, your vulnerable state beckoning him to devour you. Who was he to deny himself of acting on his predatory instincts?

“This is . . rather unprofessional, miss.”

That was the last thing he said before he found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, kissing you like he loved you. Did he? Large hands cupped your jaw, eagerly pulling you closer to his face. Even though Chrollo didn’t bare his heart, the zeal behind his kisses revealed the truth hidden in his chest.

Both lips fell into a unison, slotting into each other like they were made for one another. Before getting carried away, Chrollo pulled back, brows lifting in amusement as he watched the way your face leaned in, searching for his lips.

“What—What about Mr. Euan?” He asked, breathless, onyx strands dishevelled, courtesy of your wandering hands.

You both knew you didn’t have feelings for Euan but saying it aloud wasn’t going to change the fact that a ring sat on your finger, it was far more complicated than that.

Lowering your gaze, you shrugged. Guilt picked at your skin, the thought of disrespecting Euan had you freezing in place. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be prying.” Chrollo whispered, hot breath fanning across your face. He tucked a strand behind your ear before sliding his digit down to your chin, lifting your face.

“Kiss me?”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

What the two of you had wasn’t exactly a relationship—beyond a professional relationship but less than a romantic one. But Chrollo cared for you all the same, even if it meant watching in the sidelines as Euan made his polite advances—kiss on your cheek, a hand on the small of your back, his fingers tucking stray hairs aside, Chrollo endured it all. Whether or not it affected him, he didn’t let on.

Instead, he returned affection tenfold in comparison to what Euan gave you. Your room had turned into a rendezvous—every night, behind its closed doors, Chrollo took you in his arms, and whisked you away from reality, from all the inhibitions you felt. And amidst all the meaningful conversations, the shared pleasure, the tears shed, a bond deeper than one could comprehend blossomed within these walls.

Chrollo became a rock you could lean on—a significant person you could be vulnerable with, and bare your heart on the table, unguarded. He listened to your problems, and silly thoughts with open arms, and ears, stroking your hair beneath the moonlight as the two of you lay underneath the ivory sheets.

With you, he was a completely different person, a person who he deserved to become. One that could relate to the little joys in life—whether it be chasing sunsets, dipping salty fries in vanilla ice cream or looking up at the night sky without any remorse in one's heart.

With you, Chrollo had a fleeting glimpse of the life he was robbed of because all he knew was how to survive for another day—how to kill swiftly, and effectively.

And he’d be reminded of all these when returned to his own quarters in the dead of the night. That the sole purpose of his arrangement in this estate was to take you out—not to nurture a bond with you, not to have sex with you, not to listen to all your thoughts, no. Chrollo was here as your assassin.

To hold you so gently in his hands knowing they would be the same ones covered in your blood. It was almost laughable, it surprised Chrollo how he—a person conditioned to destroy—was able to touch you with the utmost gentleness as if he’s never once tasted violence on his tongue.

Clearly, you both felt something for one another but acting on it was easier said than done—not to mention how this mission wasn’t supposed to end up like this, all tangled up in a web known as you.

Did Chrollo love you? Truth be told, he didn’t know. He never had the privilege of experiencing what romantic love was. Wanting to be by your side was the only thing he was certain of.

Lying in bed, Chrollo looked over at his nightstand, it housed a singular piece of chrysanthemum soaked in a glass of water—one that you had given him earlier this week. Now, his room smelled just like yours, the flower’s sweet aroma lingering in the air.

It helped Chrollo sleep a little better; smelling its familiar scent tricked his mind into thinking he slept in your presence.

A little over a week.

That was how much time Chrollo had left to get the job done assigned by Ciaran. It wasn’t long, and he knew he had to make the decision soon but not before taking a gamble.

As Saturday arrived, you stuck to your routine as usual, the only difference was, the late night was spent driving around with Chrollo.

The atmosphere inside the vehicle grew thicker by the minute, he could tell something weighed your mind from the way you pursed your lips, and fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. But of course, the ever polite man he was, he waited ‘til you opened up to him—Chrollo knew you like the back of his hand, whenever things bothered you to an extent, it didn’t take long for you to break.

“Can I tell you something?” You murmured above the hum of the engine. Staring to the side, you watched as Chrollo wordlessly nodded his head, stealing a brief glance your way before focusing on the wheel. He took notice of how you sat on the front passenger seat instead of your usual spot.

Looking out the window, you spoke up, “I . . don’t know how to deal with all this.” Chrollo remained silent, urging you to continue. “I’m going to be married to a man I don’t love, and I’ll be running a company I don’t want. And us. I want you, Chrollo, I really do but I . .”

Chrollo’s grip tightened around the wheel.

“Why don’t we just run away, and leave all this behind? We can build a new life together and—”

“Is that what you want? To run away with me?” Chrollo cut you off. Coming to a full stop at the red lights, he turned to you, the seriousness in his expression made you somewhat nervous.

Would it be foolish of him to comfort you with words he partially meant?—words that would only hurt you in the end?

“I can give you that.”

At this point, Chrollo was lying to himself. To be so brazen, and accept running away with you knowing well enough his neck was chained to the underground—loyal to his roots.

Weighing the options, it was crystal clear that the odds were against the both of you. Of course, you didn’t know that, you had absolutely no idea Chrollo had underground ties nor was he assigned to kill you by none other than Ciaran.

Considering the latter’s involvement in underground business, you wouldn’t be the only one with a target on their back; it only made sense for Ciaran to put a hit on Chrollo as well for disobeying his orders if he were to consider running away. It would elicit a whole lot of enemies, and he couldn’t put you in a situation where he was willing to risk you dying in someone else’s hands.

Living a life hiding from dangers of the world—that’s what you would have to go through if you, and Chrollo were to run away. Did you really deserve to live that way? Did you deserve to live in the conditions Chrollo tried to run away from?

The answer was more than obvious.

Obviously, a life with Euan benefitted you more—you’d have more stability, and security. Who was he to take away all those things from you?

Having never tasted something as sweet as this feeling with you, Chrollo found himself holding tighter rather than letting go, he fed on greed, and delusion.

Truth be told, it tore him apart. A part of him cursed, and yelled at him for being so naïve, and easily moved by a woman he had only known for a month and a half—not to mention how he despised your kind.

The other part urged him to reach for the unthinkable, and build a new life he deserved, with you. Chrollo was ready to lay his weapon down if it meant being by your side ‘til the end of time.

Maybe in another life.

He knew he had to make a decision. Soon. Ciaran had been making calls to his burner more often than not, and he could sense the former’s patience growing thinner, and thinner as each day turned into night.

Whatever Chrollo’s decision was, he just hoped you’d still love him all the same—forgive him.

There was one crucial piece of information Chrollo had remembered. On Sundays, you dismissed all security staff that accompanied you, including the chauffeur, Lukas. This meant that for one day, you were completely unguarded, and alone.

Chrollo was unaware of the reason but it was obvious you wanted to experience a sense of independence one way or another.

Nonetheless, he managed to keep an eye on you by using an ample amount of distance—it was a piece of cake, after all, he tracked his targets in stealth mode for a living; akin to a predator sizing up its prey before sinking its canines.

Sundays weren’t particularly eventful, you spent the day alone running around swiping your credit card left, and right until it made you feel a tad better. So when Chrollo had ‘accidentally’ bumped into you at the parking lot, hidden from public cameras, he was aware of how effortless it was to whisk you away from the public.

“Chrollo? What brings you here?”

The bodyguard was dressed in his usual attire, a white button down neatly tucked beneath his black slacks, and this time, he didn’t wear a blazer.

“I figured you’d be here, miss. Something came up at the estate—you’re needed back home.” A lie.

Chrollo observed as the sparkle in your eyes drained at his words, genuine concern rolling in like grey clouds looming above on a stormy night. His heart clenched. Not in a good way. “Don’t worry, no one is hurt.” With his reassurance, your shoulders dropped with ease, the breath you’ve been holding slipped past your lips in a relieved sigh.

It pained the assassin how trusting you were, how easily one could play you into the palm of their hand the same way he did right now. Why?—why didn’t you question how effortlessly Chrollo pinpointed your exact location? The city was expansive, no normal person would be able to trace your steps unless they followed right from when you left the estate.

The vehicle was quiet, leaving room for Chrollo to notice the faint scent of chrysanthemums inside—it was your personal car, not the one Lukas used to drive you around hence the flowery aroma.

For some odd reason, the smell no longer comforted him the same way it did whenever he frequented your room. It made him nauseous. If Chrollo was to put it in words, the aroma smelled of sweet death, and it reminded him of the church back in Meteor City.

Consumed by concern, and lost in your own thoughts, you paid no attention to your surroundings outside, how it grew less, and less familiar with each kilometre driven by your bodyguard. You also didn’t notice Chrollo repeatedly stealing glances through the rearview mirror every now, and then, missing the way his steely gaze housed a hint of nervousness—an emotion he didn’t normally harbour.

Though, as you finally came to, you gazed out the window, eyes carefully scanning the fleeting hues outside as the car drove by. Soft colours of pinks, and oranges seeped through the glass which casted an ethereal glow inside, it hinted at the setting sun, and the darkness that loomed just around the corner. As your brain registered the foreign roads, confusion settled in,

“Are we taking a detour, Chrollo?”

He wordlessly nodded. You mirrored his action in acknowledgement but the feeling of unease was oddly difficult to dismiss, especially with how deserted these roads were. The streets were decorated with construction sites, abandoned buildings, and old houses that were decorated with wooden planks to seal off windows, and entrances.

A weird feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You caught the way Chrollo’s stone cold gaze locked with yours for a split second but didn’t dare speak up.

Just as your heart started to race, the vehicle came to a halt, Chrollo had parked in front of an abandoned building—an old church, based on its architecture. Its unmistakable pointed roof aiming at the skies above, and stained glass windows marked with angels, and other holy beings said it all.

The building was surrounded by overgrown greenery, and wrecked furniture dumped on the side which hinted at years of apparent neglect. Its dressed stone walls were the epitome of sacrilege itself, littered with colourful vandalism from top to bottom; even just seeing it with your own eyes felt like a grave sin. A forbidden image.

“What—” “Get out.” Chrollo cut you off. For a tone so cold you could’ve swore a subtle shudder ran down the length of your spine. His stare met your own through the mirror for a second time and your heart sank all the way down to your stomach at how serious he was, dread slowly engulfing your body. What the hell was happening!? Why was Chrollo acting strangely?

“No.”

Chrollo turned to face you, still wearing that stoic expression. You felt small under his gaze, it almost felt predatory—no—not almost, it did; you didn’t want to admit but you caught a glimpse of the way his eyes sparkled with sharp, murderous intent.

Swallowing thickly, you crossed your arms, trying to appear nonchalant, albeit, it was more for yourself than for the man before you.

“Not until I get an answer. You mentioned something had come up at the estate, so why aren’t we—” “I lied.”

Before you could question his motives, Chrollo swiftly got out, the resounding thud as he shut the door closed had your body flinching a bit. You watched as he rounded the car, and made his way just before your door.

Opening it, a hand reached in for your wrist; gentle fingers curled around your skin as if you were a delicate flower—a daring contrast from the way his piercing gaze stabbed shards of unease throughout your body.

You pulled away, easily slipping off Chrollo’s placid grasp before helping yourself out of the vehicle. His hand curled into a loose fist as he watched you exit the car with an evident scowl on your face; funnily enough, Chrollo had the audacity to feel upset at the rejection. Never once have you denied his touch.

Crossing the narrow clearing that led to the unsealed church entrance, chunks of loose stone, and dirt moved beneath your steps; you stared at your feet as they navigated through the unstable terrain.

It was odd. Calm, and composed were the last two things you should be feeling in this situation, given the sudden shift in Chrollo’s demeanour, you were supposed to be fearing for your life right this instance despite your blindness to the hidden danger that lay ahead.

Chrollo . . He would never do that to you, right? Upon taking the job, he swore to protect you. But your better judgement screamed at all the glaring crimson coloured flags—an abandoned church in a deserted neighbourhood? It was the perfect set up for heinous crimes.

Out of instinct, you scanned the layout of the building from where you stood, if it came down to it, there was only one viable escape route which was through the main entrance of the church, the one Chrollo pulled open.

By now, the sun had fully disappeared below the horizon, and the colourful remnants the burning star left in its wake slowly faded into deep hues of night azure. Strangely, this end of the town harboured harsher winds with a freezing bite that had you rubbing your arms over the sleeves of your top.

A heavy groan sounded from the mahogany doors, it cut through the wind’s endless howl as it danced with the leaves, and through the sharp branches, interlocking trees in a soft sway.

A chill ran down your spine at the loudness of it. The doors parted revealing a view you’d expect in an old abandoned church—disorganised pews to create a spacing in the middle, antique chandeliers affixed to the high ceiling covered in thick layers of dust and cobwebs, and trash scattered across its marbled floors; by the state of the inside, squatters most likely frequented the building due to its unsealed entrance.

The inside was dimly lit from street lights outside, it poured through the stained glass windows which allowed a deep scarlet glow to illuminate the building. Chrollo stepped inside, the soles of his obsidian dress shoes quietly clicked with every calculated step further into the church.

Foolishly enough, you followed as though a crimson string bound yourself to his—he was acting strangely, and the most appropriate approach as of now was to question his behaviour, and the bizarreness of the situation. Walking away would only prove useless with how far he has driven, and he had your car keys; at best, you could only cooperate.

“Chrollo, will you please tell me what’s going on?” You navigated inside the old building, the scent of mildew, and rotten wood lingered in the damp air, it captured your senses in a tight hold.

Ruby bounced off Chrollo’s inky strands as he stood at the heart of the church, right beneath the stained windows with divine beings. It turned his pale skin into an angry red, and you wondered if that’s what he felt right this very moment, clearly you weren’t far off with how he pierced your soul earlier.

He turned to face you, “I’m doing this for your sake.” For the first time today, emotion seeped through the cracks of his nonchalance.

Chrollo looked almost sad, you weren’t entirely sure given the lack of lighting but the unmistakable glint behind those obsidian eyes was anything but foreign. For a split second, it was the same Chrollo that spent countless nights in your bedroom; not as your bodyguard, not as anyone else but simply as Chrollo—your Chrollo.

“For my sake? What the hell are you talking about, Chrollo?” Like the vermillion glow that bounced off your skin as you stepped closer, anger slowly bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Chrollo was nothing but cryptic with his responses, and you couldn’t wrap your head around any of them! He had always been a straightforward person, sometimes blunt, so why was he holding back now?

Standing beneath the scarlet light softly illuminated your features, Chrollo thought you looked exquisite bathed in the brilliance of red. Even with a tinge of doubt, and anger in your eyes, you were filled with love the same way the colour kissed every part of your skin.

“An escape from all this . . That’s what you want, right?” With his right hand, Chrollo reached inside his pocket, it took you a few seconds to identify the item in his hand—a gun.

With the way it’s unmistakable silver glistened beneath the dim lighting, you could tell it was a weapon of his own; not the ones registered under your father’s name. You stiffened, and your body ran cold, gaze met with the barrel of his gun.

“Chrollo?” Barely a whisper, you called out his name above the thick atmosphere, each second spent inside it had you desperately gasping for air; whether it be from nervousness or confusion, you didn’t care to find out.

He swallowed thickly, fingers curling tighter around the handle of his gun, trying to ignore the way your desperate plea violently struck a chord in his heart.

“Chrollo please put the gun down! You’re out of your mind!” Panic surged from head to toe, it came in vicious waves, scratching, and gnawing at your bare skin like a vehement beast. Chrollo tried to ignore the apparent tremble in your voice, he couldn’t afford to mess this up.

“Yes, I want to escape—with you. Why are you doing this to me, Chrollo? Why do you want me dead?!”

The third time his name rolled off your tongue, he was ready to throw the gun across the room, and cradle you in his arms while whispering apologetic nothings in your ear.

But he didn’t.

Chrollo stayed rooted in his spot, gun aimed at you, “Remember Ciaran Driscoll?—” You furrowed your brows. Ciaran? “He paid me to kill you.” A shaky breath, that was all you could muster, your mind was too busy trying to piece everything together.

Ciaran. Chrollo. Kill. Your blood ran cold.

But Chrollo didn’t give you time to breathe, steady clicks of his shoes echoed throughout the church as he paced back, and forth, “I was elated when I agreed to his proposal. Why? Because a pompous soul dying by my hands is what I’m made for—” He was calm, and collected, a faint smile displayed on his face as he slowly walked towards you. “Did you know what your people did? To my home? To my friend?” Stopping just before you, Chrollo leaned in, obsidian gaze piercing right through you.

“A lot of you treated Meteor City like some kind of hunting ground at your disposal. As if—as if its inhabitants were nothing but mere animals. For what? The sake of illegal dealings? For more money? Power?”

Chrollo caressed the side of your face with the back of his left hand—the other remained motionless by his side—his ghostly touch trembled against your skin, afraid that if he pressed down any further, you’d crack.

The situation baffled you. Not only was Chrollo blaming you for the atrocities caused by other people, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he was in cahoots with Ciaran Driscoll to orchestrate your demise.

Is that why Chrollo applied to become your bodyguard? To get close before finally killing you off? You felt another wave of dread wash over you. Everything felt numb, your limbs, your torso, your heart.

Shaking your head, you finally broke the silence with a trembling voice, tears threatening to spill out, “I’m not involved in any of those, Chrollo. Do you even hear yourself right now?”

He did. God. He fucking did and he felt absolutely foolish for blaming you. After you had bared your soul to him every night, Chrollo stopped seeing you in the same light as he did before. Yes, his deep-rooted disdain never left but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of loving you; it was a battle between desire and duty, and he already knew the victor.

The determination in your eyes, you were set on running away from the current life you had, and as tempting as that was, he didn’t have the courage to lead you into a new life full of nothing but danger.

Chrollo would rather have you dying by his own bloodied hands—for him to live each day filled with regret—than have someone else basking in the glory of killing you. At least that way, he’d be tainted by you.

“You’re all the same. Ciaran’s father is proof enough! You said it yourself that he was involved in illegal business—”

“So those nights we spent together . . were they just all part of the act? You never cared for me.” Chrollo barely caught the last part of your sentence as you muttered it under your breath; he watched as your gaze lowered, a wave of sadness engulfing you for a split second before finding his eyes once again. This time, you wore a glare.

You straightened up, “Tell me, Chrollo. Was it all just an act? A show you put on just to get close to me?” Questions lingered in the air the same way dust did, it sat heavy on Chrollo’s shoulders but he remained stubborn—silent. Would his answer change the circumstances? No.

After all, nothing good came out of trivial matters. At his stillness, you grabbed his right hand, trembling fingers curling around the shaft of his wrist as you brought it up to your face, pressing the barrel of his gun to your forehead. It felt icy against your feverish skin, like the kiss of a grim reaper.

Ever so slightly, Chrollo’s brows rose in shock, breath hitching at your brazenness. “Did you ever love me?” A broken whisper spoken into the crimson-lit night, so dainty, so weak yet it pierced his heart without a second thought. It left a gaping hole, as ugly as sin, and no amount of repentance could heal.

Love. How would one define love? Was it the act of sacrificing someone dear to oneself? Chrollo didn’t know. But more importantly, how did you define love?

“Did you?”

Digging deeper into the subject would only lead to the grave of his heart but Chrollo couldn’t care less, it was already six feet under since the day he sought revenge for his friend.

With a heavy sigh, your eyes finally softened, “Of course. I still do.” You felt his hand twitch in your hold, as if he briefly tried to pull the gun away.

Glimmering like the first starlight were tears staining your cheeks, one by one they fell down as a surge of emotions drowned your body; your brows were furrowed yet your eyes looked at Chrollo like he held the cosmos in his hands.

Is this what was meant when they said love and anger were painted in the same shade of red?

In his line of work, Chrollo has never seen anything as haunting as your gaze. It was natural for his targets to look up at him in complete horror, tears welled up in their eyes as they begged him to spare their lives but you—your eyes were full of nothing but love, and adoration despite his gun pointed at you. That look alone was enough to torment his coming days.

“Do you, Chrollo? Do you love me?” His chest tightened at the hopeful glint in your eye. Nothing good ever came out of trivial matters because at the end of the day, Chrollo was nothing but a man chained to his sinful revenge—blindly devoted to the hatred planted in his heart, and it came with a great price.

A sudden wave of red washed over his body, resulting in an ear splitting bang that resounded within the church’s bricked walls. Chrollo flinched at the sound—he’s never done that before—followed by a heavy thud against the marbled floors. It took the assassin one, two, three seconds to register the situation, the violent sensation of the gun’s recoil still fresh on his trembling hand.

The faint scent of iron hung in the air.

Chrollo looked down at the grisly sight before him, gun in his hand weighing heavy before it finally slipped from his absent grip. The weapon fell beside his right foot.

For the first time, Chrollo Lucilfer—the bringer of death—weeped, and mourned the demise of his target. He wailed into the darkness as warm crimson slowly pooled around your head, it resembled a faux halo, a tainted fallen angel.

Broken sobs, and ugly cries filled the damp building—this was the first in a long time that he had heard the sounds of his own grief. Guilt, and sorrow consumed Chrollo the same way the shadows of the night did but no amount of tears would bring you back to life, no amount of whispered I love you’s would reciprocate his words, no amount of cracks in his heart would turn back time.

You were dead, and it was all because of the man you loved so blindly. ‘Til your dying breath, you were shielded from the secrets of his true identity, and feelings, ones he swore he would take to the very grave he dug.

Chrollo fell to his knees, his fingers dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood. The vile pungence of your blood suffocated his senses, despite something so familiar to him, Chrollo heaved and curled over himself, quivering like an autumn leaf in the wind—he looked pathetic; hot tears and snot covered his reddened face as he cried out into darkness.

Every bit of air left his lungs and each breath felt like a chase he couldn’t win. Truth be told, he didn’t have the courage to reach out to your body, no, he didn’t feel like he deserved to do so.

To taint you more than he already had. So, Chrollo didn’t, instead, he weeped until the moon decorated the obsidian skies, until his tears tried, until your body ran cold, and every bit of colour you wore was gone.

And when the assassin finally pieced himself together, he did three things.

One, let Ciaran Driscoll know that the job had been done using a burner phone.

Two, with the same device, Chrollo called the police, brazenly letting them know he murdered someone, and the exact location of the crime scene.

Three, he covered your car in flames, and fed the burner phone into it; he watched as bright hues of oranges and yellows devoured the vehicle before doing what he did best: disappearing into the night, and becoming one with the shadows to never be found again.

The night before, he had quietly handed in his resignation to Lukas who gave him an appreciative pat on the back, the old timer parted with words that Chrollo knew would remain ingrained in his mind, ‘I’m quite sure the young miss appreciated your service. Thank you for taking care of her.’

His heart shouldn’t have clenched at that but it did, and painfully so.

The coming days blended into nights with Chrollo sitting inside his hideout—a dingy, rundown motel with paper thin walls that housed interesting individuals. Completely unaware of the time, his only company was the ticking ivory wall clock above the cramped dining space.

The hefty payment from Ciaran lay untouched on the bed, concealed within a briefcase. He didn’t eat nor drink, not even having the energy to step outside for occasional sunlight, and every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the look you gave him during your final moments, he remembered the metallic tang in the air.

The old chunky television situated atop a rusty console table was what kept Chrollo’s sanity intact.

Day to night, it blasted morning, afternoon, and evening news—to the point of fellow motel goers knocking at his door to complain about the noise—just to keep up with information about you. As much as Chrollo yearned to bask in the memory of you, seeing your face plastered on television followed by a variety of words such as ‘rest in peace’, ‘murdered’, ‘assassinated’, and ‘dead’ didn’t help his mind at all.

At least what kept him entertained were the updates on potential suspects that may be tied to the crime scene; the murder weapon was an unregistered gun loaded with an unregistered bullet, and the footprints left at the scene had no unique tread.

So at best, there were no concrete leads in the case.

Not that it mattered to Chrollo.

Atop the cheap wooden table on which he sat were two things, the murder weapon and a singular stem of a white chrysanthemum. The one you had given him from your bouquet. Chrollo let the flower sit there for days on end until its ivory petals shrivelled into a brown hue—its sweet aroma turning pungent.

Until it withered.

Until the scent of death choked him the same way his cries did that night—a mockery of what was lost, of what he willingly destroyed.

One month. It took Chrollo a month to finally step into the day, and out of the drab motel room. Brightness engulfed his vision, the sun’s afternoon rays shone as brightly as ever, enveloping him in a warm, gentle hug as if to welcome him back to reality.

He was certain he didn’t deserve kindness from this world, not even the permission to step foot in the very earth that held your body dearly in its grasp as though you were its prized possession.

Oddly enough, Chrollo found himself standing before a familiar flower boutique. With his gaze locked onto the floor-to-ceiling windows, he looked around the inside, as if doing so was going to have you magically pop out of nowhere, and buy a dozen of white chrysanthemums like before.

But you didn’t.

Pulled from his thoughts, a recognizable voice filled his ears, it was the owner, “Are you here to buy flowers for a lover, perhaps? I can recommend a few—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, realising the familiar face that stood before her. Chrollo watched as her face morphed into a sad smile, the cheery glint in her eyes disappearing beneath the thickness of her lashes,

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re her bodyguard, right?” He inhaled a sharp breath at the mention of you, heart violently thumping against the confines of his chest. Chrollo could only nod, anything more than that would have him breaking.

The old lady reached out her plump hand, and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I’m so sorry for your loss. She was lovely—”

Don’t say that. Don’t say it to me like I’m not the cause of her death. Don’t say it to me like I should be mourning for someone who died by my hands.

Chrollo gritted his teeth, jaw clenching at the sympathy thrown his way. He felt sick and disgusted with himself—as if he were a vile being trapped beneath human skin. All of a sudden the sun rays that gently enveloped his body didn’t feel like a warm hug anymore, sharp, hot prickles spread throughout his clothed skin, leaving a painful itch.

“—and the only customer who bought chrysanthemums frequently. Others usually bought the flowers once or twice for funerals and death anniversaries; she was the only one who truly saw chrysanthemums in a different light.”

A symbol of devoted love and loyalty, that’s how you saw them.

How ironic that the flowers you once adored would be laid upon your grave, holding a completely different message; mourning and grief. That didn’t sit well with Chrollo, you loved white chrysanthemums but not for that reason.

“Apologies, I ramble too much.” The owner let out a polite chuckle before continuing. “Well, can I at least interest you in some flowers? What would it be for you?”

“Can I get a dozen of those?” Chrollo pointed at the lively bunch soaked in water, situated just beside the boutique’s entrance. Following his finger, she looked behind her and smiled, “Right away.”

Its petals resembled rays of the first sunshine, the golden hue it wore promised eternal warmth even after death.

As day turned into night with the crescent moon high above the obsidian skies, Chrollo made his way to your perpetual resting place—it didn’t take much effort to do some digging around to find out where your body had been buried.

The chilly wind howled as it danced with the dark, trees and leaves swaying to accompany it with a silent song. He walked down the moonlit path of the cemetery, land that outstretched before him was decorated with tombstones, and in his left hand was the bouquet he bought earlier.

Moonlight shone over your grave as if the moon herself knew the secrets shared between you and Chrollo on cloudless nights. Bouquets of white chrysanthemums decorated the space around your grave, candles that were once lit rested atop the marbled tombstone that housed your full name.

Oddly enough, this felt like déjà vu. Maybe it was due to the fact that you and Chrollo rendezvoused in your room the same way he visited your grave—under a lonely moonlit night where soft whispers, and beating hearts were heard.

Bending down, Chrollo lightly caressed your carved name, cleaning out stray pieces of grass and dirt blown by the wind. He gently placed the bouquet amongst the sea of white, its colourful hue greedily taking all the limelight from the sombre flowers,

“I know these aren’t your favourite but I figured you’d like them too . .” He paused for a moment, foolishly waiting for you to reply.

“. . Yellow chrysanthemums just like the white ones but—” Who was he kidding? Chrollo felt stupid. Talking to your grave as if you were alive—as if he wasn’t the one who brought you to your demise.

The audacity he had.

Truth be told, every fibre inside his body screamed at him to turn back, and never show his disgusting self but Chrollo was as greedy as the darkness that drank the moonlight each night.

He envied the ground like sin, how held you in its arms, cradling your rotting body in its eternal embrace. It should be him. Now, he’d have to remember you longer than he had known you.

Instead, Chrollo was six feet above—alive; tied to, and haunted by the shackles of foolish regret. The memory of that night replayed in his mind over and over again like a cursed broken record, the disgusting thump as your lifeless body hit the floor, blood pooling around your head.

Most nights he’d find himself calling your name in his sleep—he always dreamt of the same dream: you, running away from him in a field of flowers, no matter how hard he worked his legs, he never seemed to reach your body.

Chrollo sat before your grave and sobbed, letting creatures of the night feel his vulnerability; as the wind howled, the breeze carried the sounds of his cries to the trees, where it promised him to keep it a secret—a story only reserved for the dead.

Hot tears rolled down his frost-bitten cheeks, pooling on the tip of his chin before it fell on the damp grass beneath.

In antique texts, yellow chrysanthemums represented one’s heart left to desolation. Neglected love. It was only befitting for he has killed the very person who grew to love his blood-stained soul because in the end, he was nothing but a man only adept at destroying.

He let out shaky exhale, and whispered into the night the answer you sought,

“I love you.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 3 months ago

Text

A DC X DP IDEA # 35

Who will he be tonight? that’s the question.

Imagine dis…

It's been a while since I last posted here and even though I am late on the trend the song would not leave my head ( due to my gremlin of siblings) and you are now here to suffer with me.

MWAHAHAHAHA

…

Bruce was stressed, not because of his nightly duties nor his exhausting job as the CEO of Wayne enterprise. He got his license to foster children by the skin of his teeth through legal channels, he was so close as to use his privileges as the richest man in Gotham to get his license also to be able to foster Richard “Dick” Grayson.

Apparently despite his playboy persona aka “Brucie Wayne” just entering its social debut almost made him almost impossible to foster Dick as the social worker that had been assigned to him is also one of the few social workers in Gotham that takes their job seriously.

Bruce knew that his budding playboy persona, the carefree “BRUCIE Wayne” should be buried, he could replace this mask of his with his philanthropist self but he couldn’t just immediately change it would and will raise whispers on why, but what could be the reason?

Just as he continued scheming a knock broke his train of thoughts and entered Danny Nightgale, the calm and efficient secretary who had worked before with Lucius Fox ever since he had been hired. Danny, from Bruce’s file on him, son of two leading ecto-biologists in the world, a quiet kid who grew up in a city from nowhere, had a bad accident that left him with a slow heartbeat, discovered that one of the last two purple back gorilla is female and thus avoiding total extinction. Doesn’t have much media presence due to their hometown being the home of the former ghost hero Phantom who had vanished the moment that the anti-ecto acts had been re-appealed…

…

Bruce approached Danny with a pitch and handed him a nicely drafted contract. The agreement was straightforward: pretend to be Bruce's adoring partner in public. It was the only way to change the public's opinion, to show the world a stable, dependable, responsible Bruce Wayne who was ready to be a foster and maybe a father.

…

As years went by this arrangement had been beneficial to both parties.

Danny now saves more money, and despite having one of the highest salaries being paid all went to his rent to the nicer parts of Gotham. It had so many insurances as well security measures to ensure the tenants are safe, but the downside having most of his paycheck going to the rent itself. Now he has a permanent house that is large and free food that is made by the greatest cook that ever existed.

Bruce is less embarrassed about putting on a show for the public, he seems to take on the air-head mask whenever his supposed “lover” is around and near him, turning him into a bumbling mess whenever the “love of his life” is around him. He also secretly took great pleasure whenever those annoying journalists asked nonsense questions which he answered in his most obnoxious voice spiel away how world peace is attainable if all just gave their own Danny’s.

…

Each generation of Batkids saw how Bruce had a crush on Danny yet kept fumbling himself and reminding himself that all of this was just part of the contract. Sure each kid knew of said contract that was made for Dick’s sake but said the reason for said contract wanted to rip that thing ages ago and into pieces the moment he wanted to call Danny Dad.

Though each child that resides in that manor noticed some inconsistency within Danny’s schedules, not only that they have just recently discovered that while Danny loves to chat there are still personal things that he hadn't delved into aside from the information that was already in his files. Of course, there is also his weird avoidance of the vigilante group of Gotham, especially Batman, despite being proven to the public both in and out of Gotham that Batman is trustworthy, Danny still held wariness to said vigilante.

You’d think that after years of exposure around the Wayne’s Danny would have already discovered the cave all on his own. But it seems that every time are inches away discovering their secret an emergency or urgent priority was flaring from the Wayne enterprise that only he was needed to solve the said problem.

After weeks of Tim’s continuous intake of a very worrying amount of pure caffeine, espresso shots, and 10 different brands of energy drinks they have finally connected the dots.

Danny is a secret FBI agent planted in Gotham to catch Batman and his group in the act of breaking the law and to disband the whole spiel about being a hero and vigilante. Sure the JL and the sudden rise of heroes and vigilantes that popped up around the world that are not government affiliated made those who sat at those red velvet chairs nervous as they don’t have any active say or word as to what crimes to focus on and so on. There are reasons why Amanda Waller is still in power and still allowed to roam free with funds after funds to continue her work despite being continuously caught by the JL.

Now it is up to them to change Danny’s mind and abandon his mission so that they can finally stop seeing Bruce act like that “Brucie” persona, that they thanked the gods had been immediately vetoed, towards Danny.

…

Alfred sits down in one of the manor’s libraries with a cup of tea in one hand a book in another with another small pile on the side with a teapot ready to refill himself another cup.

He sighs at the drama that seems to unfold to his eyes only.

Ever since Master Danny had been integrated into this household he had found more free time than he could ever imagine. The young man would always find ways to outpace Alfred when it comes to housework to the point it had become their little game to this day. As much as he supports his ward/son, Master Bruce needs to gather all emotional intelligence he has left and confess to Master Danny.

But that wasn’t the live soap opera that it seemed to unravel.

His grandkids are set and believe that Master Danny is a secret agent who is here due to a mission related to the vigilante group stationed in Gotham.

Alfred adores all of them, he did but sometimes he wonders if the title World’s Greatest Detective is to be added to his arsenal of titles.

Alfred knew that Master Danny wasn’t just an ordinary secretary but he was also the Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, how did he know of this?

He simply walked in on Danny changing from his human self to that otherworldly creature that looked too regal to be a normal being, and so clues that were the littlest of things that he had always chalked up to the angle of the light seemed to begin clicking in place.

Alfred was a bit miffed when he learned that Master Danny might have been cheating when it came to their little bouts of cleaning the manor but he now stayed quiet as Master Danny still didn’t know of the quote “furry brigade” unquote are the Wayne’s, and based on Master Danny’s past rants he will have his little laugh when the truth comes out, but until then he will drink his tea in peace as the drama in Wayne manor seems to unfold.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

Text

Housing is a labor issue

There's a reason Reagan declared war on unions before he declared war on everything else – environmental protection, health care, consumer rights, financial regulation. Unions are how working people fight for a better world for all of us. They're how everyday people come together to resist oligarchy, extraction and exploitation.

Take the 2019 LA teachers' strike. As Jane McAlevey writes in A Collective Bargain, the LA teachers didn't just win higher pay for their members! They also demanded (and got) an end to immigration sweeps of parents waiting for their kids at the school gate; a guarantee of green space near every public school in the city; and on-site immigration counselors in LA schools:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Unionization is enjoying an historic renaissance. The Hot Labor Summer transitioned to an Eternal Labor September, and it's still going strong, with UAW president Shawn Fain celebrating his members victory over the Big Three automakers by calling for a 2028 general strike:

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/uaw-general-strike-no-class

The rising labor movement has powerful allies in the Biden Administration. NLRB general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo is systematically gutting the "union avoidance" playbook. She's banned the use of temp-work app blacklists that force workers to cross picket lines:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

She's changed the penalty for bosses who violate labor law during union drives. It used to be the boss would pay a fine, which was an easy price to pay in exchange for killing your workers' union. Now, the penalty is automatic recognition of the union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And while the law doesn't allow Abruzzo to impose a contract on companies that refuse to bargain their unions, she's set to force those companies to honor other employers' union contracts until they agree to a contract with their own workers:

https://onlabor.org/gc-abruzzo-just-asked-the-nlrb-to-overturn-ex-cell-o-heres-why-that-matters/

She's also nuking TRAPs, the deals that force workers to repay their employers for their "training expenses" if they have the audacity to quit and get a better job somewhere else:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/14/prop-22-never-again/#norms-code-laws-markets

(As with every aspect of the Biden White House, its labor policy is contradictory and self-defeating, with other Biden appointees working to smash worker power, including when Biden broke the railworkers' strike:)

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

A surging labor movement opens up all kinds of possibilities for a better world. Writing for the Law and Political Economy Project, UNITE Here attorney Zoe Tucker makes the case for unions as a way out of America's brutal housing crisis:

https://lpeproject.org/blog/why-unions-should-join-the-housing-fight/

She describes how low-waged LA hotel workers have been pushed out of neighborhoods close to their jobs, with UNITE Here members commuting three hours in each direction, starting their work-days at 3AM in order to clock in on time:

https://twitter.com/MorePerfectUS/status/1669088899769987079

UNITE Here members are striking against 50 hotels in LA and Orange County, and their demands include significant cost-of-living raises. But more money won't give them back the time they give up to those bruising daily commutes. For that, unions need to make housing itself a demand.

As Tucker writes, most workers are tenants and vice-versa. What's more, bad landlords are apt to be bad bosses, too. Stepan Kazaryan, the same guy who owns the strip club whose conditions were so bad that it prompted the creation of Equity Strippers NoHo, the first strippers' union in a generation, is also a shitty landlord whose tenants went on a rent-strike:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/20/the-missing-links/#plunderphonics

So it was only natural that Kazaryan's tenants walked the picket line with the Equity Stripper Noho workers:

https://twitter.com/glendaletenants/status/1733290276599570736?s=46

While scumbag bosses/evil landlords like Kazaryan deal out misery retail, one apartment building at a time, the wholesale destruction of workers' lives comes from private equity giants who are the most prolific source of TRAPs, robo-scabbing apps, illegal union busting, and indefinite contract delays – and these are the very same PE firms that are buying up millions of single-family homes and turning them into slums:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Tucker's point is that when a worker clocks out of their bad job, commutes home for three hours, and gets back to their black-mold-saturated, overpriced apartment to find a notice of a new junk fee (like a surcharge for paying your rent in cash, by check, or by direct payment), they're fighting the very same corporations.

Unions who defend their workers' right to shelter do every tenant a service. A coalition of LA unions succeeded in passing Measure ULA, which uses a surcharge on real estate transactions over $5m to fund "the largest municipal housing program in the country":

https://unitedtohousela.com/app/uploads/2022/05/LA_City_Affordable_Housing_Petition_H.pdf

LA unions are fighting for rules to limit Airbnbs and other platforms that transform the city's rental stock into illegal, unlicensed hotels:

https://upgo.lab.mcgill.ca/publication/strs-in-los-angeles-2022/Wachsmuth_LA_2022.pdf

And the hotel workers organized under UNITE Here are fighting their own employers: the hoteliers who are aggressively buying up residences, evicting their long-term tenants, tearing down the building and putting up a luxury hotel. They got LA council to pass a law requiring hotels to build new housing to replace any residences they displace:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-11-28/airbnb-operators-would-need-police-permit-in-l-a-under-proposed-law

UNITE Here is bargaining for a per-room hotel surcharge to fund housing specifically for hotel workers, so the people who change the sheets and clean the toilets don't have to waste six hours a day commuting to do so.

Labor unions and tenant unions have a long history of collaboration in the USA. NYC's first housing coop was midwifed by the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America in 1927. The Penn South coop was created by the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union. The 1949 Federal Housing Act passed after American unions pushed hard for it:

http://www.peterdreier.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Labors-Love-Lost.pdf

It goes both ways. Strong unions can create sound housing – and precarious housing makes unions weaker. Remember during the Hollywood writers' strike, when an anonymous studio ghoul told the press the plans was to "allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses?"

Vienna has the most successful housing in any major city in the world. It's the city where people of every income and background live in comfort without being rent-burdened and without worry about eviction, mold, or leaks. That's the legacy of Red Vienna, the Austrian period of Social Democratic Workers' Party rule and built vast tracts of high-quality public housing. The system was so robust that it rebounded after World War II and continues to this day:

https://www.politico.eu/article/vienna-social-housing-architecture-austria-stigma/

Today, the rest of the world is mired in a terrible housing crisis. It's not merely that the rent's too damned high (though it is) – housing precarity is driving dangerous political instability:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

Turning the human necessity of shelter into a market commodity is a failure. The economic orthodoxy that insists that public housing, rent control, and high-density zoning will lead to less housing has failed. rent control works:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

Leaving housing to the market only produces losers. If you have the bad luck to invest everything you have into a home in a city that contracts, you're wiped out. If you have the bad luck into invest everything into a home in a "superstar city" where prices go up, you also lose, because your city becomes uninhabitable and your children can't afford to live there:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/27/lethal-dysfunction/#yimby

A strong labor movement is the best chance we have for breaking the housing deadlock. And housing is just for starters. Labor is the key to opening every frozen-in-place dysfunction. Take care work: the aging, increasingly chronically ill American population is being tortured and murdered by private equity hospices, long-term care facilities and health services that have been rolled up by the same private equity firms that destroyed work and housing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

In her interview with Capital & Main's Jessica Goodheart, National Domestic Workers Alliance president Ai-jen Poo describes how making things better for care workers will make things better for everyone:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-12-13-labor-leader-ai-jen-poo-interview/

Care work is a "triple dignity investment": first, it makes life better for the worker (most often a woman of color), then, it allows family members of people who need care to move into higher paid work; and of course, it makes life better for people who need care: "It delivers human potential and agency. It delivers a future workforce. It delivers quality of life."

The failure to fund care work is a massive driver of inequality. America's sole federal public provision for care is Medicaid, which only kicks in after a family it totally impoverished. Funding care with tax increases polls high with both Democrats and Republicans, making it good politics:

https://www.dataforprogress.org/blog/2021/4/7/voters-support-investing-in-the-care-economy

Congress stripped many of the care provisions from Build Back Better, missing a chance for an "unprecedented, transformational investment in care." But the administrative agencies picked up where Congress failed, following a detailed executive order that identifies existing, previously unused powers to improve care in America. The EO "expands access to care, supports family caregivers and improves wages and conditions for the workforce":

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2023/04/18/executive-order-on-increasing-access-to-high-quality-care-and-supporting-caregivers/

States are also filling the void. Washington just created a long-term care benefit:

https://apnews.com/article/washington-long-term-care-tax-disability-cb54b04b025223dbdba7199db1d254e4

New Mexicans passed a ballot initiative that establishes permanent funding for child care:

https://www.cwla.org/new-mexico-votes-for-child-care/

New York care workers won a $3/hour across the board raise:

https://inequality.org/great-divide/new-york-budget-fair-pay-home-care/

The fight is being led by women of color, and they're kicking ass – and they're doing it through their unions. Worker power is the foundation that we build a better world upon, and it's surging.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/13/i-want-a-roof-over-my-head/#and-bread-on-the-table

#pluralistic #labor #hot labor summer #eternal labor september #jane mcalevey #los angeles #weaponized shelter #housing #airbnb #equity strip noho #tenants unions #red vienna #jennifer abruzzo #nlrb #the rent's too damned high

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faevi · 10 months ago

Note

hello!!! I saw that you wrote lifeguard Levi before, requesting lifeguard Gojo, smut 🙏 🙏 🙏

Jellyfish Sting // Gojo.

Scenario: Ouch! Stung by a jellyfish. Good thing Lifeguard Gojo Satoru is here to save the day… Oh, and make you feel reeeaaaallll good.

Word Count: 16,681.

Content / Trigger Warnings: female reader (she/her), lifeguard!gojo, cunnilingus, blowjob, handjob, fingering, sexual intercourse, unprotected, creampie, exhibitionism, public, outdoors, beach sex, dirty talk, pet-names (mostly princess), a jellyfish sting(?), jokes of piss, big dick gojo, stomach bulge, phone call whilst sex happens, people walking by, spanking, massaging, praise, dom!gojo / taking orders, breathplay (via dick and blocking airways), weird position (idk if it has a name but on gojo’s shoulders as he holds you up as he . . .), rough, breast worshipping, finger sucking / consuming cum. all completely consensual.

I think that's it! Please (kindly) let me know if I missed something.

Note: A request is done, woo !! Again like I usually say - not my best. AHAHA. I try !! I didn’t proof-read or edit so forgive if there’s any mistakes, just ignooooore. Lifeguard Gojo is… drools. Very yum. I think that’s about it? ; - ; Thank you for waiting. If you’re reading this and enjoyed it, please let me know !! <333 I’m a slut for kind words. Like usual, I’ll try to do better with my writing. Also hopefully this one doesn’t get fl*gged like my other one :))))))))).

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

The sun is blazing hot even amongst the few clouds in the sky. If it wasn’t for the sunscreen, you were sure you’d be burnt to a crisp. Truth be told, you didn’t even want to be outside today but, your friends whined about wanting to go to the beach and what kind of friend would you be to deny them that? Still, the weather could be a lot worse than it is and it’s the perfect season for cute bikinis to wear.

You quickly glance down at yourself, admiring the shade of red of your bikini and the flimsy strings tied into cute bows before sighing out softly, feeling content to just sit beneath the large umbrella that you rented with your small group of friends. They’re near the shoreline, playfully splashing each other and there’s a pang of guilt within you for not joining them so quickly. “Come on, Y/N. You won’t die.” You mumble to yourself, shifting yourself from your laying position until you’re up on your feet, carefully bending down so your head doesn’t hit the umbrella. It’s just a bit of sun. Besides, there’s a nice breeze and lifeguards here to save you— If you really do end up in danger. You look over to the tall chair, squinting a little to inspect the lifeguard that’s on duty in this area.

Your eyes travel a bit south of his body and you feel like all of the air was just knocked out of you and leaving you winded. Okay, so maybe his figure is gorgeous. Well-defined muscles. Really, well defined. That must be an eight-pack and how is that realistically possible? Even his legs look nice and long. Soft white hair that makes your fingers twitch with the urge to touch. His skin is clearly well taken care of when he’s out in the sun most days. Wait a minute— Was he looking at you? Even with distance, you can clearly see his head is turned in your direction, sunglasses not truly covering his eyes that you swear are looking your way. No… He’s probably just checking the general area.

He’s smirking at you. You’ve been caught.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, thankful to see that his co-worker is suddenly grabbing his attention and so before you’re truly distracted, you stomp through the sand towards your friends. Whatever. You just wanted to double-check check someone was on duty. That’s all it is. “Y/N, finally!” One of your friends whines playfully, latching around your neck to cling to you. “We were wondering when you’d join us. Sitting all alone is boring, y’know.” Your friend continues and you laugh softly, gently patting her back. “I was playing the main character in hopes that the hot lifeguard would look my way.” You say, giggling along with your friends as you glance towards the lifeguard once more.

He’s off the seat now and you couldn’t ignore the obvious sight of tight red shorts low on his hips, the v-line tempting you to want to see further. You feel like some nasty side of you is starting to awaken. You didn’t even pay attention to his hot co-worker; long black hair tied up and your friend clinging onto you gushing about his smile. He’s cute, you couldn’t deny that but, the white-haired lifeguard… There’s something about him.

“Quickly, one of us needs to start drowning.” Your other friend says and you playfully smack her shoulder. “Let’s all just actually swim.” You say, dragging your friends into the warm salty water. It didn’t take long for you to fool around with your friends, briefly oblivious to a certain lingering gaze on your figure. Even with hatred towards the heat, you find yourself grateful for visiting the beach. It’s comforting; to be able to spend time playing around with your friends before the days get busy again.

You grin as you splash one of your friends in retaliation to her own and the pair of you try to dodge each other’s attacks before there’s a sly smile on her face and she floats closer. “Mister lifeguard really does love looking at you~.” She teases and your mouth opens to respond, only for a sharp cry to escape your lips. There’s a painful stinging sensation across your leg and out of instinct, you begin to kick your leg as you flail away from the general area. “What? What is it!” One of the friends says, frantically taking a hold of you.

Usually, you have a high tolerance for pain, but nothing could stop the tears from appearing and threatening to spill as your lower leg area throbs. “J-Jellyfish!” You gasp out your warning, grabbing a hold of your friend who was clinging onto you and begin to swim back to the shoreline before you stumble onto the sand. A mere jellyfish managed to brush its nasty tentacles up against your leg. You plop your ass down against the sand, bringing your leg closer to try and inspect the unpleasant sting, biting back your soft whimpers of pain. “It’s just a sting, don’t worry.” You try to reassure your group of friends who are surrounding you and showing obvious signs of panic. You could feel the area throb, witnessing as it swells up and the parts where the tentacles actually touch flare up. You scrunch your face up, fingers digging into the sand as you try to not show how much it hurts. You didn’t want your friends to panic further. It’s a rather small incident compared to what could happen out in the ocean.

“What’s going on, girlies?”

You turn your head in the direction of the deep voice, eyes instantly making contact with a crystal blue pair, the sunglasses low on the bridge of the lifeguard’s nose. It’s the white-haired one. You feel like you could potentially faint from a mixture of pain and having his gorgeous existence right in front of your very eyes. You quickly glance to notice his co-worker is next to him, they’re both appearing rather concerned. Your friends back off to give space as they both kneel next to you, feeling your cheeks heating up quickly. “It’s nothing, honestly! I just got stung by a jellyfish.” You explain hastily, hands coming up to wave in dismissal, not wanting to distract the hot lifeguards from their actual job.

You feel something graze gently against your cheek and you finally snap your focus to the touch. The white-haired lifeguard’s finger wipes away a tear that managed to escape, offering a comforting smile before looking towards the large sting area and letting out a low whistle. “It got you pretty good.” He begins, leaning to the side to allow his co-worker to inspect the inflamed part of your leg. You’re too focused on the white-haired male with the sunglasses. His lips soon twist to form a playful smirk.

“Want me to piss on it?”

You felt like your mind completely malfunctioned and went into overdrive from hearing such a filthy question. Instantly, his co-worker smacks him across the back of his head and the playful lifeguard whines dramatically, hands coming up to the back of his head. “Don’t ever offer that stupid idea again, Satoru. You know that’s a myth. You’re going to traumatise the poor girl.” His co-worker sighs and all you could really focus on is the fact that you now know his name. Satoru.

Satoru rolls his eyes, lips forming what must be his signature pout as his hands come down to tenderly guide your leg closer to him. “I doubt she’d be traumatised from a bit of urine, Suguru. I was just joking.” He grumbles, noticing the way your friends appeared disgusted by the idea and yet, you’re simply flustered and avoiding eyes. Cute, is all Satoru can think. “Ladies, your friend—“ He pauses, looking your way.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N will be completely fine. I’ll take her up to the lifeguard tower and you guys can keep having fun. Suguru will keep watch.” Satoru expresses and you look towards your friends, all looking concerned. Even over a jellyfish sting. “I’m okay! Keep having fun, I’ll be good in no time.” You say hastily, maybe a bit too eager to be alone with the white-haired male. Hopefully, it’s not too obvious. Your friends continue to give looks of worry and even guilt about leaving you alone, but you simply give them a smile of reassurance as you press your hands against the warm sand, intending to move so you’re standing.

Instead, you feel a rush of air around you and something strong yet comforting wrapping around your body; one around the back of your knees and the other around your shoulders. You didn’t expect your mind to shortcircuit for the second time so soon as you managed to process that the pair of ‘something’ was Satoru’s toned arms lifting you with ease until he was carrying you bridal style. You let out an awkward laugh, ignoring how hot your face feels as you glance up at his smirking face. “It’s just a jellyfish sting, I’m sure I can walk.” You say quite timidly, ignoring the lingering gazes from both your friends and Satoru’s co-worker.

The white-haired male simply looks down at your face, pearly whites exposed as he grins a little, voice low and smug. “Princesses get carried, no? Come on.” He says, turning his broad back to the group as he begins to walk away. Trying to appear casual by rubbing your face as if something itches; you’re actually trying to hide your own giddiness from hearing his words, even noticing how careful he was with carrying you to not touch the area of your leg on where the jellyfish stung you. Satoru continues to walk through crowds of people on the beach, further up towards the tower, completely unphased by the burning sun against his pale skin. He briefly wonders to himself if he could manage to convince someone as cute as you to reapply sunscreen on spots he can’t reach.

Satoru should feel terrible for already thinking such selfish things but, in his defence? He could tell the attraction was mutual the second he caught you looking at him. It’s a miracle he was even looking away at that moment because the moment he saw you and your friends set up on the beach, he refused to move post with Suguru or other co-workers; insisting he stays on guard for that section of the beach. Just so he could continue to selfishly watch you for his own pleasure. He clears his throat to snap out of his deep thoughts. “So, I have a feeling that you’re not actually a fan of the beach, Y/N.”

You puff your cheeks out, head briefly resting against his shoulder as he continues to carry you. The muscles in his arms didn’t even twitch to show exhaustion. He was perfectly fine with holding you for a long time. “What gives you that idea? Have you been watching me?” You tease lightly, internally wondering where on Earth the confidence suddenly comes from. “Yeah, you’ve caught my eye.” The lifeguard replies, finally at the steps of the tower, looking down at you. You quickly look down, feeling even more exposed than before. Especially in your skimpy bikini. You couldn’t deny the happiness that seemed to ignite in your heart from hearing the lifeguard’s words. You’ve caught his eye. Out of everyone on that beach, it’s you. You sigh softly.

“I don’t hate the beach, I actually quite like it. I just feel like I’m going to dramatically burn to death or something from how hot the sun is. That aside, maybe I’ve found something to make me enjoy the beach more than before. Even the sun can’t stop it… or the sting.” You hastily add as you still feel your lower leg throbbing. Being with the hot lifeguard can only do so much. You watch as his lips curl and eyebrows twist to form a frown. “Right. Hold on.” He says, tightening his large hands against your body as he carries you up the steps of the tower before reaching the top. The door is already open as he steps inside sideways and your eyes notice another pair of gorgeous lifeguards sitting in front of the large windows that look down upon the beach. One with his blonde hair slicked back and keeping his body covered with the lifeguard jacket and longer shorts. You notice he’s wearing glasses. The other is another male; with long hair tied up into two messy buns and a bold tattooed line across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. They both tilt their heads towards you.

Satoru presses you against him as he holds you, refusing to let you stand. He really is giving you the princess treatment for just a jellyfish sting. “Utahime left for the day already, Nanami?” Satoru asks, stepping in the direction of the back of the tower. The blonde male simply nods, eyes focused on you for the moment. You offer a timid smile, looking down towards your fidgeting hands. “What happened with her?” The other lifeguard asks, glancing towards you before returning their gaze towards the windows, and picking up a pair of binoculars. “Jellyfish sting, nothing too bad but I’d rather treat it than let her sit out in the sun and wait for the pain to go. Quicker this way, Choso. Anyways, don’t mind us.” Satoru insists, waiting for the pair to be distracted with their job before he truly moves to the back, behind a set of curtains.

“You really didn’t have to bring me all the way over here. I could have waited it out.” You say softly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the lifeguard tower as the white-haired male carefully sets you down on the mattress of the medical bed, allowing your legs to dangle off the side. Satoru whips the curtain further shut to give you both privacy, looking down at you as he reveals a slight crooked grin. “Can you just let me pretend to do my job so I can have you to myself?” He teases and automatically, your thighs begin to clench together as you feel a stir of excitement within you. “That and I’d rather actually ease the pain of the sting. It’d be quicker here than out there. Didn’t you want to get out of the sun?” He reminds, plopping his ass down onto the stool as he rolls over to the counter.

Maybe it’s because of his own flirtatious ways that you find a side of you awakening. That must be it for your words. “Well, I definitely wanted to get out of the sun with you, mister lifeguard.” You say so sweetly, your eyes lingering on the tiny red shorts that just tighten further around his toned legs. Satoru feels a boost to his own ego at your shy words, setting a bucket under the tap before adjusting for hot water, looking your way. “A princess with a sweet tongue. What a weakness of mine. Let’s focus on the sting for a moment.” He says, soon lifting the bucket out of the sink, and grabbing a spray bottle full of vinegar before setting them down. “Various remedies, different strokes for different folks. They all work, usually. It’s a relief we don’t live in an area with dangerous types. Otherwise, I’d be running to the hospital with you in my arms. What would you prefer to try to soothe the pain?” He asks, hands rubbing along his toned thighs.

Truth be told, you could barely focus on his words of wisdom. You’re far too distracted by his pretty hands against his thighs. “The hot water..” You manage to respond and Satoru simply smiles, noticing how distracted you appear to be. “Or you could just look at my pretty face as a distraction until the pain is gone. That might take longer.” He teases and you couldn’t help but whine, playfully kicking in his direction. “Stooooop, you’re making me flustered.” You whisper, not wanting the other lifeguards to hear as your walls quickly come down in Satoru’s presence. It already feels like you’ve known him for so long. He chuckles, bringing the bucket of hot water closer as he sets it between you and himself before gesturing for you to scoot to the edge of the bed. The white-haired male bends down, tenderly taking hold of your ankle before guiding your foot into the hot water. It’s big enough so the water completely covers up the throbbing sting area and you hiss gently from the heat.

Your fingers grip the edge of the thin mattress, breathing in deeply. It’s slow but, the sting is starting to subside already, causing your body to relax with relief. Satoru’s large hand rests against your bare thigh, giving a gentle squeeze and nails scraping along your soft skin. “You think this method is good enough for you?” His voice is soft, as if he wants his co-workers not to disturb him, his thumb rubbing in a circular motion against your flesh. You feel like your gut is twisting from the lifeguard’s touch, gaze fixated on his bare abdomen on display for only your eyes to see. “Yeah..” You breathe out softly, making sure to keep your foot in the bucket of hot water and your eyes already becoming droopy. His touch feels so good... You wonder what else his hands could do.

You snap out of your thoughts when he pulls away, standing up from the stool and before he can move away, two of your fingers suddenly hook beneath the elastic of his lifeguard shorts, preventing him from moving. “Oh? Attached to me already, are you? Don’t worry, princess. I’m just going over there.” He teases as he jabs his thumb in the direction of the counter. Flustered, you quickly let go and look away. He bites back an amused smile, setting the spray bottle filled with vinegar back on the counter before he begins to look through the drawers. Your eyes automatically look his way to watch his movements, wondering what he’s looking for. “You’re not going back out, are you? It— It just hurts a lot, I’m afraid something might happen to me if no one’s around.” You ramble, cringing at your own obvious lies.

Satoru snorts gently, picking up a tube of cream and smacks it lightly against his hand as he makes his way back to the stool, ever so casually. “Now after hearing that, I can’t dare leave the princess all alone, even though there are lifeguards on the other side of the curtain, can I?” He sits back down, rolling close enough to stretch out his arms until both of his hands are on either side of you, trapping you within. You couldn’t even look him in the eye; finding that his piercing blue orbs are impossible to not drown in. “I wasn’t planning to leave, it’s near the end of my shift. I’ll stay with you.” Satoru reassures, playfully tapping the tube of cream against your thigh, his gaze obvious and hot against your figure. “How’s the leg?” He asks.

You slide your leg out of the bucket of water and look down. It’s not stinging as much and you can see the bumpy lines of where the tentacles touched you. “It doesn’t hurt as much.” You say and Satoru reaches over to grab a towel, placing it across his lap and pats it. You couldn’t help but smile before lifting your leg until you rested it against him. Carefully, he pats your leg dry before grabbing the tube of cream. “This will help further. May I?” He asks, already squirting the cream onto the tips of his long fingers, confident to hear you give permission. Although fixated on the length of his fingers, you manage to nod your head and he smears it gently across the inflamed area. He’s careful as he massages it in with his fingers and you continue to watch, feeling a little breathless. Even the numbing pain that is starting to subside couldn’t distract you from focusing on the gorgeous lifeguard.

Satoru tilts his head down to prevent you from seeing his amused smirk as his ears manage to pick up the softest whine that escapes you from his touch. He’s a little selfish in the fact that his other hand joins in to tenderly massage your leg. If anyone asks why he’s taking so long; it really is for your benefit. He does care that you got stung, after all. It’s not pleasant. “Are you going home after this? If not, it might be best to bandage it just to keep it covered for now.” Satoru says, wiping his hands dry against the sides of his red shorts. You pause when you hear the question. All of your belongings are still back with your friends and they probably expect you to return before going home at least but… something else was on your mind.

You bite down on your lip, courage flowing through your veins as your foot on his lap presses down against his toned thigh, daringly close to a particularly sensitive area for a man. You watch as a white eyebrow arches and he peeks at you beneath his circular shades. “When exactly does your shift end?” You ask quietly, glancing towards the closed curtain. Satoru sighs out softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he focuses on the pressure of your foot. You’re not going straight home, it seems. He tugs his phone out to inspect the time, leaning over to hastily snatch up the roll of bandages before tucking his phone away. “In about ten. Why? Do you want me all to yourself?” He teases, thumb pressing the bandage against your leg to hold it in place as he begins to wind it around, eyes never leaving your face.

“Surely there are some secluded areas on the beach that you work on. That must be pretty and fun to be alone with a girl..” You say, unable to stop the sheepish giggle from escaping your lips. Since when could you be so bold? He ties a firm knot before nudging your foot off of his lap to roll his stool closer. He’s tall enough even when he’s sitting and you are on a higher surface, that he’s face to face with you. The lifeguard is so close that you can feel his warm breath fan against your lips. Fuck. You clench your thighs together as best as you can without being so obvious. You should have worn black if you knew there would be a ridiculously hot lifeguard on the scene because you just know there’s a damp patch forming on the bright red fabric of your bikini.

“I can think of a few areas, perhaps. Promise me that you’ll be all mine as I show you around? I mean, if someone disturbs us… I won’t be stopping.” He warns, voice deep and smooth. The words send shivers up your spine and you lean in to playfully bump your nose against his. “Wouldn’t want you to stop, Satoru. I mean, it’s the least I can do for the lifeguard who saved me from a jellyfish sting.” You tease sweetly, fingers ghosting along his toned bicep. He curses beneath his breath, bending down until his forehead meets your bare shoulder. He’s impatient. If it was up to him, the white-haired male would already be bending you over the edge of the medical bed and fucking you in front of his co-workers. Still, it will be exciting to have some fun on a beach where anyone could walk by.

“Such an honour to treat the princess. Now, to waste time—“ He pauses, pulling away as he stands up and walks out from behind the curtain. You automatically pout at him leaving you, gripping the edge of the bed as you wait. Satoru snatches the large bottle of sunscreen from the front of Nanami and Choso, offering a wide grin. Nanami holds his hand up to stop Satoru from speaking. “I don’t want to know.” Nanami says before crossing his arms and continuing to watch. The white-haired male rolls his eyes, grumbling to himself before he returns to you from behind the curtain and sighs. “Do me a favour? I can’t reach anywhere.” Satoru says, placing the sunscreen next to you and you couldn’t help but grin a little. He’s too cute in a way.

You jump to your feet with eagerness, ignoring the dull ache that lingers beneath the bandage and squirt a generous amount of the white liquid into the palm of your hand, oblivious to Satoru’s intense gaze. He’s staring at you, eyes clouded with a mixture of endearment and hot desire. Satoru isn’t feeling attached. Not like that. At least, not yet. Surely any guy would find it difficult to not be endeared by your cute actions, especially when you seem so eager to please him with such a simple task. You grimace a little as it threatens to drip over the side of your hand and approach the tall male, offering him a sickly sweet smile. “Come here, please.” You say and you both meet each other in the middle of the small medic area, chest to chest.

With cheeks feeling hot, you step back slightly before slapping your hand against his firm chest and he grunts a little, lips parting to tease you about not being sexy enough; only to choke on his own saliva. His piercing blue eyes are intense with the gaze, staring down at both of your hands that are now against his toned chest and starting to smear the sunscreen, nice and slow. Your hands seem so much smaller compared to his and just that alone enough is driving his mind wild from the size difference; filthy images of you being practically bent in half before him. Flexible or not, Satoru knows he’d manhandle you into the position he craves.

You could feel his chest rising and falling beneath your hands, biting down on your lip as you began to allow your hands to explore further south, fingers tracing along the beautifully defined muscle lines of his abdomen. You could feel how rock solid and hot he feels from living beneath the sun as a career, hands eager to rub in the sunscreen. You wouldn’t want him to get burned by the sun after all. What kind of princess would let their ‘hero’ suffer like that? No. It’s your job to please him in every way possible, just like you want to. Your fingertips trace along the v-line that travels further down and to an area you shouldn’t reach. Except, you dip your fingers just beneath the elastic and look up into his blue eyes.

“I just have a feeling your upper thighs might get exposed to the sunlight later. Best to be careful. Right?” You hum, tilting your head slightly as you spread the last of the sunscreen along his upper thighs, daring to glide close to the middle but, not far enough. Satoru merely grunts in response, eyes now looking upwards and you could practically see him beg himself to stay in control and not snap. It’s so hard to do that. Another hard thing happens to be his cock. He can feel himself hardening as you tease him further, length straining against the already tight boardshorts. You look down, lips parting in awe to see the outline of how thick and long he is. Is that even humanly possible? You’ve been with guys before but, they were never built like this.

In silent admiration over his giant length straining, your nails graze along the top of his thighs before you slip your hands out. You inspect the upper body area to see the light glisten of sunscreen before you pump some more into your hands and carefully, lower yourself onto your knees. The curtain isn’t long enough that it reaches the floor. If Satoru’s lifeguards look back for even a second, they’d be able to see the glimpse of you kneeling on the ground, looking like you’re doing something so sinful behind the curtains. Satoru notices it instantly and that alone is enough to cause him to sigh heavily and drag his fingers through his white hair. “Y/N, cheeky little girl..” He breathes out as you begin to rub the sunscreen into his legs. You look up to see his crystal blue eyes admiring the sight of you kneeling before him and you merely smile in response.

“I want to cover every inch of you so you’re safe from the sun, that’s all. Although… I won’t smother your cock in sunscreen. I’ll protect that part of you with my, hm.. mouth? Pussy? The sun won’t get you there.” You say soft enough for only Satoru to hear and his hand now travels to cover his mouth in almost disbelief from your filthy words. He’d even say he was close to feeling flustered for the first time in his life; never expecting the timid girl who insisted she’d be okay to suddenly have skyrocketing confidence that only riles him up further. He looks at the time of his watch and curses. You really are taking your sweet time to caress every part of his body and teasing him with scratches from your nails and gentle squeezes. He needs to get you out of here.

“Sweetheart, with all due respect— Please hurry up so I can fucking get you out of here.” Satoru says, fingers gliding through your hair to grip on, pulling nice and slow so you could feel the tugging pain on each strand. Fuck. The aching pain floods you with excitement and desperation to obey his words and so you hastily get to your feet, leaning up on your toes to ghost your lips across his. A near kiss. “Sorry, I just love to worship.” You say, giggling as he leans forward to try and complete the kiss. He rolls his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitch and he turns around. With haste, you squirt the last amount of sunscreen to lather across his broad back, admiring his wide shoulders and the movements of his muscles as you rub in the white liquid down along the length of his body before pulling away. “All done! How did I do?” You ask, grinning.

He turns around, almost melting at the sight of you and takes hold of your smaller hand with his much bigger one. “Perfect— My good girl. Please tell me you’re still good to go protection-wise.” He says, eager to leave. You couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t long ago when you applied sunscreen and so with your free hand, you give him the thumbs up. The lifeguard sighs with relief before he begins to pull you out from behind the curtain, reaching for his backpack with his spare hand to swing over his shoulder. “Alright, I’m off to fuck— I mean off the clock and going home.” Satoru jokes and you feel yourself flush with heat. Even knowing this man for just over an hour and you’re not really surprised by his crude behaviour with his co-workers. Still, it leaves you flustered. Satoru merely grins at his co-workers who roll their eyes before he pulls you out of the open doorway, nudging his sandals close to your feet. Your heart flutters and you slide your feet into them, noticing how big they are on your feet.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” You whine softly and Satoru guides you down the steps carefully, not wanting you to trip over. He simply chuckles, shoulders shrugging. “Not ashamed and I’m a proud man when I get what I want.” Satoru says, feet meeting the sand. You playfully bump your head against his shoulder, fingers lacing with his. “What about your feet? Aren’t they hot?” You ask with a small pout and instantly, Satoru’s heart clenches at the sight. “Used to it and would prefer your feet protected— Come on, my dick is dying.” He says, gently tugging you along. You would have scolded him for his bluntness if it wasn’t holding some truth for yourself. You, yourself, felt like you were dying from not already being stuffed full of his throbbing length as he pounds into oblivion, claiming you on the beach that you’re sharing with hundreds of others.

Satoru is eagerly pulling you along the beach, glancing every so often to make sure you’re not struggling; whether with his large shoes or the jellyfish sting but, it seems you were just as eager for the crowd to start thinning out as you walk horizontally along with the ocean. Both of your hearts are pounding with excitement, too deep in focus to hold a conversation. That can happen later. You’re still facing a bit of disbelief. How can a ridiculously attractive man, who basically pours out godly energy; want you? After just an hour or so. It’s dangerous realistically speaking and yet, you’re desperate to have him. To please the lifeguard with your own two hands and mouth. Even more.

Satoru continues to drag you along, shades covering his eyes as he glances across the beach. You’ve both been walking for so long now that it’s not part of the popular tourist spot on the beach. People rarely come down this way because he and other lifeguards express that the waters can become dangerous and it’s preferred to situate yourselves within the flags. It’s been about five minutes since he saw the last person lounging on the sand and frankly, he’s had enough. Why walk a further ten minutes just to be extra careful? No one’s around. Even if someone did appear, it’s not going to stop him from touching you. Truth be told, Satoru loves the thrill of being caught and showing off what belongs to him. Even if only temporary.

He finally comes to a stop and you’re panting softly; a mixture of excitement and tiredness from walking beneath the hot sun that is only just now beginning to set. Slowly. White strands of hair fall over his eyes as he looks down at you, unable to stop himself from cooing at the cute sight of you clinging onto his hand, looking like a lost little lamb for the taking. “Sweet girl, I think this is far enough. Here—“ He pauses, tightening his hold on you as he moves up towards the tall cliffs that provide shade. You feel like your cheeks doubled in heat from his words, following him until he suddenly twirls you around and you stumble towards the face of the cliff.

His large hand presses against your lower back, preventing you from making a rough impact on the rock surface. It’s rather smoothed out, not too painful to lean your back against and you look up at him. His free hand presses against the cliff beside your face, easily towering above you. He pushes the sunglasses up until they sit comfortably on top of his head, strands of hair pushed back to expose his forehead. Already, loose strands begin to fall back down, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is you. He drops his backpack to the side. “The ocean years ago used to reach up to the cliff, slowly washed away the roughness. Perfect to pin you up against, don’t you think?” Satoru says, deep voice sounding almost like magic with the gentle waves in the background.

Your heart is hammering, feeling the slightly jagged rocks against your bare back, but he’s right. It’s the only perfect surface in such an outdoor space. Frankly, you don’t care. You don’t even care anymore about being out in the open. You were nervous before, but all you see is Satoru. Your fingers ghost up along his bare arms before you snake your arms around his neck, leaning up onto the tip of your toes. He bends down so his lips are over yours. “Hurry up and fuck me.” You whisper, soon feeling his soft tiers crashing against yours. Satoru with patience completely out the window; kisses you with fierce passion. He feels fucking starved when it comes to you. The lifeguard noticed you and your friends the moment you set up beneath the umbrella and he struggled to do his job when he was just watching you so intently. Finding every little thing about you to be sweet and cute. Irresistible, even. First time meeting, who the fuck cares. He’s going to have you.

You feel breathless already as he devours you with such ease. Satoru’s lips move slowly against yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and you whimper softly, one hand coming to rest against his bare chest. His skin felt so hot despite being in the shade and you could feel his heart racing. It’s somewhat comforting to know that his heart races with excitement like yours. You gasp softly as his tongue glides smoothly across your bottom lip. “Open wide, princess.” He mumbles into the kiss and as you oblige so quickly, his tongue slides into your wet cavern, eager to explore every inch of it, pressing your body against the cliff face as his own much bigger form pins you against it. Needy whines are muffled by his lips as his tongue teasingly rubs against yours. Satoru slides his large hand down the length of your back before boldly cupping your ass cheek to give a harsh squeeze.

“Ah, ‘toru..” You pant out softly, feeling both of his hands now groping your bare ass cheeks, fingertips pressing so deeply into your flesh that you feel a sweet ache. The flimsy fabric of your bikini bottom rides between your cheeks as he fondles roughly, saliva smearing across your cheek as his lips leave yours to kiss along your jaw, panting softly. “Could see your ass a mile away before, found it so fucking cute. Knew I wanted you then.” He groans softly against your ear, coaxing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter wildly and prompt you to dig your nails gently into his skin. You can feel his tongue dancing across your warm flesh, teeth nibbling before he bites down harshly on the side of your neck, sucking firmly.

You whimper from the dull throb that spreads from the spot and Satoru presses a kiss to the abused area before he pulls back to gaze down at you, eyes swirling with deep lust. “Satoru, please... You’re making me feel so—“ You bite down on your lip and look to the side, somewhat flustered. He merely smirks, cupping the side of your neck and leans to the other side to give his sweet attention. “What is it, pretty girl? Needy? Fucking wet for me? Shall I see for myself?” He says, one hand toying with the tied-up bow. One tug and it’d slip down. His teasing almost frustrates you, already wishing to feel more as his lips scatter kisses across your neck and down to the valley of your breasts. The bikini top did a pathetic job of covering your boobs.

“You’re such a tease.” You exhale softly, glancing at your surroundings. No one is around, still. He grins playfully at your words, one hand lifting from your behind for only a moment before he smacks your cheek firmly, causing you to yelp and press up against him. You feel the sweet sting spread across your ass cheek that jiggles from impact and he swats again before the tingle. Again and again, Satoru spanks your ass, alternating cheeks until he grips the throbbing flesh and drags his nails harshly along the burning skin. You’re whimpering against his chest, hopelessly holding onto him as he lands each spank with such precision, breasts pressing against him. “Fucking delicious.” He sighs out heavily, feeling the heat from the harsh spanks radiate off of your skin.

You’re biting down on your lip harshly as if that could stop the lewd sounds that slip from your lips as his palms soothingly massage the painful sting. With tears already in your eyes, you discovered how much you love pain to be inflicted on you by his hands alone. It sent waves down to your very core. “Sadist..” You mumble playfully as your hand snakes down his abdomen until your fingers once more dip beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Maybe I am, I don’t see you having a problem with it.” He whispers against your ear, hands pausing against your behind. “Baby~. We’re all alone. Stop being so sneaky. Just say you want to see how big I am.” He says smugly and you would have rolled your eyes if his words didn’t hold the truth.

You look down between you both as Satoru’s long fingers hook beneath his boardshorts, tugging them down to the middle of his thighs and your jaw drops at the sight of his hardened cock springing out from the tight confinements of his shorts, throbbing deliciously before your very eyes. He’s big. Beyond big. Long in length and the girth is so thick, you wonder if it’d even fit comfortably inside. Your gaze fixates on the protruding veins that line up along his length, saliva threatening to dribble out at the glorious sight of his dick. No wonder he’s so cocky. “You’re so hot—“ You blurt out before cupping the back of his neck to pull him down for another feverish kiss, your other hand coming down towards his exposed length. He’s all smug as he responds to the kiss, heart swelling with pride and lips curled to form a smile against your lips. He’s a sucker for praise. Satoru couldn’t deny that.

He grunts in response as your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, the tips barely able to touch together. It feels so warm and heavy against your palm and you couldn’t help but think it’s somewhat comforting in a way, as you begin to stroke nice and slowly. Satoru moves to hunch over but your hand presses against his shoulder for the moment, bending low enough so you could dribble out saliva until it drips down onto your stroking hand and Satoru’s hand comes up to tug on his own hair, knocking his sunglasses off his head. He didn’t care. All he could focus on was the snug tightness of your hand as it smears the saliva across each inch of his cock. “So thick..” You whisper and he can barely catch your words as the waves crash against the shore behind him, feeling completely wrapped up in the pleasure that pulses through him as you continue to pump your fist, not daring to relent in the steady pace you set.

You couldn’t help but bite back a giddy smile at the sight of the lifeguard already completely blissed out, using your thumb to drag along the leaking tip, trailing the pre-cum along the side of his length. Your wrist flicks gently with each movement, fingertips gliding across his balls teasingly each time your hand reaches the base. He’s panting heavily against your ear, his large hands soothingly rubbing along your signs, occasionally toying with the strings of your bikini. “You’re already feeling so good just from my hand, Satoru… Just imagine what it’d be like with my needy cunt. Mouth, too.” You give the base of his throbbing cock a squeeze as your lips brush against his, making them glisten with saliva before you start to lower yourself onto your knees before the tall lifeguard, long lashes fluttering as you gaze up at him.

His eyes appear even more alive, almost manic as he grins at the sight of you on your knees. You feel them sink into the sand as you lean to happily press your face against the underside of his cock. “Fucking hell..” Satoru mumbles in awe at the heavenly sight of his twitching cock resting against your face. “Bigger than my face, I bet you’re not surprised.” You mumble, lips rubbing gently against his length before you press your tongue flat against it and travel upwards, dragging it along the protruding vein before you reach his leaking tip. His eyes glaze over with the pleasure that washes over him, barely able to focus as your tongue playfully laps at the head of his length, gathering the pre-cum to happily swallow before your wet muscle swirls around the bulbous tip. He tastes so fucking good already, weighing heavy against your tongue alone.

You feel his long fingers gently grip your hair as you continue to just tease, licking along the sides so eagerly as if his cock was your own personal ice cream, pressing sloppy kisses as your hand squeezes the base. “Y/N.” He warns with his grip tightening on your hair, prompting you to whimper. Quickly, you obey his silent order. You wouldn’t dare defy the white-haired lifeguard. No matter how greedy he becomes, you’d give all of yourself to him. Your glistening lips wrap around the bulbous tip, gently suckling on it. It’s hard to smile at the sound of his pleased sigh, watching as he tilts his head back. You didn’t dare look away, sliding your mouth up and down the first few inches of his thick cock, already finding your jaw aching slightly from how wide you had to keep your mouth open.

Satoru is already blissed out. To think that he thought today would be any other day of typical lifeguard duties. Truth be told, he thought he’d have to deal with lost children or carrying citizens on his board to the safety of the shore. He definitely did not expect to watch you for most of his shift and have his mind pump full of filthy fantasies. What’s even more surprising is the mutual attraction and how neither of you cared to do the typical waiting until touching each other. You both yearned for one another since eye contact. Good for him, he thinks. Satoru thinks he deserves a pretty girl on her knees, sucking his big cock. What he couldn’t wait for is to have his own mouth between your legs, desperate to taste you. Satoru is— Well. A lover of eating out, let’s just say.

“Fuuuuck, princess—“ He grunts out as you continue to bob your mouth at a steady pace, the obnoxious slurping up the saliva that threatens to spill not being covered by the waves of the ocean. The day was starting to calm down weather-wise, ready to embrace the evening. You whine, prompting gentle vibrations along his cock and a string of curses to leave his swollen lips, gaze darkening as he looks down at you. You manage to take another inch or two as you slide your lips further down, stretching around the girth. The tip brushed against the back of your throat and you automatically gag, muffled by his throbbing length. “Good girl, look at you. Taking my cock so fucking well.” Satoru pants and with a brief warning by pulling on your hair, he presses firmly against the back of your head. “Take it.” He orders, voice low and breathless.

Your eyes widen as you feel the pressure against the back of your head and you’re unable to reject it from how strong he’s pushing. Not that you even wanted to. You’re an absolute whore when it comes to pleasing the lifeguard. Already, wrapped around his little finger and ready to do as he says. You feel his length slide along your inner cheeks, keeping your jaw as relaxed as you can as he pushes in until the tip of his length pushes past the point of gagging and your throat completely sheaths his cock, leaving the sight of your throat bulging for no one to see but Satoru.

You’re desperately swallowing around his thick cock, drool seeping out from the corners of your lips as you look up at him. You have to breathe heavily through your nose just to have access to oxygen. Satoru closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the pretty sounds of you choking on his cock as the insides of your mouth and throat keep his length feeling snug and warm; his length is surrounded with pleasure that surges up through him. He glances down at you and smirks. You look rather pathetic in an adorable way, squirming against the sand, eyes wide and pretty tears threatening to spill from the rough deep-throating.

Feeling playful, Satoru uses his free hand to pinch your nose, blocking the only access you had for breathing. Your face scrunches up a little, whimpering moans muffled by his length still stuffed down your throat. “You look so cute, princess. Struggling to get air. Shall I give you CPR?” He jokes, tightening his pinch and your head begins to throb from the lack of oxygen you so eagerly need. He’s not a complete asshole, nor entirely selfish and so, he lets go of your nose and begins to guide your mouth along his cock. You inhale deeply through your nose when you have the chance, feeling so light-headed as oxygen rushes back. “Just a bit longer.” He grunts out as his closed fist on your hair moves so your mouth slides up and down his length, faster than your pace before.

Helplessly, your hands grip his toned thighs, just above the signature red shorts as your lips stay stretched around his length, heart racing with joy to be used like this by the lifeguard. The white-haired male makes sure you take every inch until you’re at the base of his cock, the nose often momentarily pressing against his lower stomach. “Just like that, fuck— So good..” He pants, his throbbing cock enjoying the wet pleasure of your mouth, tongue rubbing along the underside. His stomach begins to feel hot and tight, the urge to climax growing and so, refusing to let himself cum before you do; he slides your mouth off completely until there’s an audible pop, followed by a sharp gasp as you breathe in the generous amount of air that was briefly stolen from you.

You break the string of saliva that connected your lips to his cock as you pant heavily, unable to stop your lips from forming a wide grin at the sight of him, giddy that you got to please him so well with just your mouth. “You like it rough, huh?” You manage to rasp out and Satoru lets out a sheepish chuckle, his hand coming down to pet you on the head, hand stroking along your hair. “Honestly, Y/N. I think I’m going to enjoy any kind of way when it’s you. Rough or gentle. Now, c’mere.” He says, taking hold of your hand to tug you up with ease.

You stumble forward, feet sinking in the soft sand and the white-haired lifeguard gently takes hold of your arms to stabilise you, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. Completely different to how he treated you when your lips were wrapped around his length. Maybe he’s eager to show you that he does have both sides and it makes your heart feel like it’s swimming in shimmering gold. He’s perfect, you couldn’t help but think. You smile against his lips and he’s holding you so tight against him that you feel his cock cushioning between your bodies and your breasts pressing against his chest. He reluctantly pulls away, gaze clouded as he looks down at you. “My turn. I’ve been waiting for this. Especially when I first saw you in your cute bikini..” He trails off, hands snaking up to tease the fabric that barely covers your chest. “So cute..” He murmurs before tugging until the triangle fabric is pulled away and your breasts spill out, free from the flimsy confinement.

“Oh shit.” He blurts out in awe at the sight of your breasts as his large hands come up to cup the squishy flesh and give a gentle squeeze. You feel flustered and look away as a soft whimper escapes from feeling his touch, your face feeling hot. “I love your boobs, so damn pretty..” He murmurs, looking like he’s in some sort of wonderland just from being able to massage your breasts, nice and slow. His thumbs tease your hardened buds, grinning at the sound of your needy whines. You tilt your head up to look at the face of the cliff, briefly wondering how a man’s touch to your breasts could already leave you feeling a sweet daze. Satoru pinches the hardened buds, giving a teasing tug before he leans forward to kiss along your neck, staying bent over you as he does so. His body is close enough for his twitching cock to still stay pressed against you and your wrap your arms around his form to cling onto him for the moment.

“I only met you like two hours ago and I’m already this addicted to you..” You confess through a whisper and if only you knew how the words just boost his ego up high, smiling smugly against your neck. “Mm, maybe we’re just a perfect match. I can feed your addiction and you can feed mine.” Satoru says, tongue trailing down the valley of your breasts. You smile at his words and look off to see— Oh god. A couple is walking along the beach. “S-Satoru! People are approaching.” You squeak out, almost horrified if it wasn’t for the excitement of being caught flooding through you. What would Satoru do? Would he not be ashamed and keep touching you?

“Don’t care.” He mutters, hands pressing your breasts together as he presses sloppy kisses to the soft mounds before he pulls away with an annoyed sigh. “Come here, baby.” The lifeguard says as he glances down at his exposed cock that continues to throb before towards the couple that doesn’t appear like dots in the distance anymore. “Usually I’d shamelessly give them a show but you’re all mine for the evening.” He huffs childishly before his arms suddenly wrap around your head to pull you in. His bigger form presses you up against the cliff face, one hand on the back of your head to act as a cushion. Your eyes widen at the sudden action, almost going cross-eyed as you stare at his muscular chest. Satoru tugs his board shorts up to cover his ass as he keeps you in a tight embrace.

The couple slowly walk along the beach, enjoying the cool breeze and warm sun. They notice the pair of you hiding in the shade of the cliff, looking curiously. Satoru exaggerates a kiss to the top of your head and his hand soothingly rubbing along your back. “Baby, there there. No need to cry. I swear I didn’t take the girl’s number. Not a single one offered to me. You’re the only one I want to date. The only one I want to cherish.” He says, loud enough for the curious couple to hear and they look at you two with smiles, pleased to see another couple being all lovey-dovey. “He must be a lifeguard— Oh how sweet, such a green flag for comforting his girlfriend.” The girl says and the boyfriend merely nods, dragging her along the sand.

You know he’s just pretending and yet, you do find your heart melting a little at the idea of being comforted by Satoru during difficult times. You actually wonder what he’d be like as a genuine partner. You briefly nuzzle your face against his warm chest and fake out loud sobs to fit the act of an upset girlfriend, tightening your arms around him. Satoru continues to watch before he finally loosens his hold. “Good girl, played your part well. For that, I must reward you.” He says lightheartedly and you giggle softly at his words, heart racing from the thrill of nearly being caught. How exhilarating. His lips twist into a smirk, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, whispering. “My turn.”

Your back rests lightly against the cliff as you watch out of curiosity as Satoru drops down to his knees and digs into the sand and at the height of your stomach, he presses kisses, scattering them across your soft skin. “Fucking perfect.” He mumbles, hands ghosting up your legs to toy with the strings of your bikini. At this point, he doesn’t care if the couple decides to walk back. The act is over and he’s ready to devour. No one was going to interrupt what he was really looking forward to. “Spread your legs.” He orders and you timidly shuffle your legs out so they spread slightly, biting down on your lower lip. Satoru lets out a low whistle at the sight of the large damp patch across the red fabric, extending out a finger to gently glide across the bikini, between your folds and you clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle your whimper, already sensitive by his touch.

“To think that I have such power over you, princess. So sensitive, already.” He teases, continuing to rub his finger lightly between your folds, pressing the fabric up between them. Your legs tremble a little when the fabric makes contact with your clit, whining. “Stop teasing, you know how needy I am..” You plead quietly and Satoru’s heart squeezes tight from how cute you are. Fuck. How is he ever going to deny you and frustrate you further? “Alright, since it’s our first time.” He sighs dramatically, fingers swiftly untying the bows that were sitting on your hips.

Your pussy is completely exposed, on display for anyone on the beach, but thankfully it’s just Satoru. He hastily tucks the small bit of fabric into one of his pockets, eyes refusing to leave sight of your cunt that’s already starting to drip and smear your inner thighs with your own slick. One hand tries to shyly cover yourself up, flustered by his gaze. Satoru arches an eyebrow as he looks up at you with his piercing blue eyes. “And what do you think you’re doing?” His long fingers wrap around your wrist and force your hand out of the way, tongue slowly dragging along his lips. He’s eager to finally have a taste, except there’s an issue.

He’s too tall. Satoru could bend down further, maybe even lay down and just force you to sit on his face— that does sound like a hot idea, but another idea comes to mind that prompts a small grin to appear across his handsome visage. “Alright, princess. Time to trust me.” He says simply, guiding your hand to rest on top of his head. You innocently tilt your head and look down at the lifeguard with confusion, cunt still exposed and ready for more. You could feel your hole clench with the desire to be filled to the brim. Still, you know better already and that’s to not rush Satoru. Your fingers slide through his silky white hair, heart racing with anticipation as his strong hand now caresses down your legs, squeezing your flesh. “What are you doing…” You ask shyly, watching as he moves your leg over his bare shoulder.

“Use your other hand against the cliff.” He simply replies and despite being puzzled, you raise your free hand above until it presses against the cliff, gripping onto one of the soft jagged rocks. Oh— Oh! Your eyes widen with a mixture of horror and amazement as Satoru swiftly lifts your other leg to rest over his shoulder and he begins to move up, slow and careful as you feel yourself rise to a height you’ve never been at until you find yourself pressed against the cliff, legs over the lifeguard’s shoulders and his strength is forceful enough to keep you positioned comfortably above him.

Satoru now has you in a spot that he deems perfect; face directly in front of your sopping-wet womanhood. You’re in a higher position now, completely stunned by his idea to hold you on his shoulders. His arms wrap around the area of your thighs that aren’t over his shoulders to help keep you stable against the cliff face, nails digging into the flesh. He glances up at you and chuckles at how flustered you look. “Relax, I’m strong. You have two heavenly sights to look at now. The ocean and me.” Satoru says, breath fanning against your pussy and you bring your hand that was pressing against the cliff to his head, both now gripping onto his hair. You trust the lifeguard enough to know that he wouldn’t drop you, nor press you too roughly against the face of the cliff. The perfect balance.

His crystal blue eyes stay fixated, almost going cross-eyed from how close your cunt is to his face and he swears he could start to feel the threat of saliva wanting to dribble out. Your womanhood is even more irresistible up close. Instead, he shifts his hand closer to your womanhood, arm still wrapped snug around your thigh and slides his fingers along your folds before parting them, glancing up at you as your legs quiver against his broad shoulders. “So sensitive.” He mocks lightly, gathering the saliva that gathered in his mouth before he spits directly against your clit, grinning at the sight of his own glob of saliva dribbling down between your slick-covered folds. You tighten your grip on his hair and whimper his name softly. You’ve never met a man so eager to eat you out. Hell, a man who just seems to want to take his time. Even out in the open, with absolutely anyone to walk by and the wind bringing the scent of the ocean towards you both. This lifeguard is definitely something and whatever that ‘something’ is; you want it all to yourself.

Satoru watches with interest as the glob of saliva continues to dribble downwards before he decides to dive his face forward and drag his tongue flat and slow across your pussy, flicking the tip against your throbbing clit. He merely laughs at the sound of your surprised squeal before he repeats the action, still in his sweet teasing move and so naturally, he refuses to pick up the pace. The lifeguard happily laps up your sweet juice with a soft groan, nuzzling his face forward until his nose rubs lightly against the bundle of nerves and you could feel pleasure surging up through you, leaving you feeling hot and your nails drag along his scalp as your lips fall open in near disbelief of how good everything feels.

He manages to peek up at you, lips twisting to form an amused smirk and frankly, there’s a huge boost in his ego just from your reactions alone. The light burn of your nails scratching his scalp causes him to moan your name as his tongue covered in your slick, travels up to swirl around your clit teasingly, pressing the wet muscle against it, feeling it throb. You taste fucking perfect to him. So sweet and clearly easily aroused from how much slick your pussy seems to produce, but it didn’t stop him.

Satoru is relentless when it comes to eating you out. His face stays pressed firmly between your quivering thighs, the tip of his tongue flicking and swirling around your clit before he leans in to press sloppy kisses to the sensitive area. You feel hot in the face just from the obnoxious slurping sounds but his firm hold on your thighs prevents you from closing them. You sit there, body trembling and muscles tensing as you take it all in. “Ah— ‘Toru, feels so—“ Your own words were cut off by a whine as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs and he presses in, pressing a kiss to your clit before his tongue slides along your folds. He continues to balance you on his shoulders, using one arm to hoist you up a little so his tongue can make contact with your entrance, chuckling at the sound of your breathless moans spilling out of your lips.

“You taste so good. Best I’ve ever tasted, princess. How am I to not have you whenever I want? Doesn’t seem fair to me.” Satoru says, tongue clicking in feigning disappointment before he prods along your tight entrance. This time, he allows your thighs to clench to the sides of his face as you whimper. “Have me whenever you want.” You slur out, body feeling so tingly and hot as his tongue prods gently against your entrance. It’s hot to witness you fall apart just from his mouth and leaves his heart pumping with excitement at the thought of you falling apart when he finally gives you what you both desperately crave; his cock. Still, Satoru is a fan of riling you up and taking his sweet time. Even with his cock aching in pain from still being hard with no pleasant contact of your mouth like before.

The lower half of his face is dripping with your mess, unwrapping one of his arms slow and cautious from around your thigh and tightening his hold on the other. You whine in question and he only gently shushes you, hand creeping up in front of his body before the long fingers meet your pussy properly this time. If it wasn’t Satoru that you already find that you deeply trust; you just know you’d throw a fit if some other tried to lift you up and keep you in this rather dangerous position. With a glimmer of concern, all you had to do was look at his ridiculously hot muscles to know that he was not going to drop you any time soon. His fingers keep your slick-covered folds spread wide, briefly flashing you a grin with your juices dripping from his face before he moves in to caress your hole.

You strangle on a moan as you feel the wet muscle push past your entrance, slowly licking on just the inside of your tight heat, tongue rubbing against your warm velvety walls that clench around it. With this angle, Satoru’s nose nudges against your clit as he moves his head forward to lick nice and slow within you. It’s impossible to not squirm with how sensitive you are; bare back rubbing cautiously against the face of the cliff and feeling his hold on you tightening in warning to not move so much. “It’s hard... You make me feel so hot and tingly.” You whine your complaint and Satoru merely snorts against your cunt as his tongue teasingly pumps in and out and despite having a very long tongue, he could only reach so far.

Your clouded gaze briefly scans the sand of the beach to see not a single person in sight as the white-haired lifeguard continues his teasing in an unforgiving manner. No rest to your needy pussy that continues to drip mess on his eager face. “So fucking sweet..” He sighs out happily, tongue once more dragging up between your folds to meet your clit. You unintentionally tighten your thighs around the sides of his face as you now realise his fingers crept up to caress along your quivering hole, panting softly. “Please..” You mumble, already craving so much more than his pretty fingers inside of you. It’s as if he could read your mind because he merely shakes his head, the tips of his hair tickling your inner thighs.

“Princess, I don’t care if we’re in public or how needy you get. I’m still going to take my time.” He says, words muffled against your cunt and despite feeling so floaty already from the pleasure that washes over you as if you’re in the ocean; you still have enough focus to roll your eyes and have your swollen lips form a small pout. “Bit selfish, don’t you think?” You huff out your retaliation and are swiftly met with a firm slap to your thigh, prompting a surprised yelp as the stinging sensation spreads across your skin. Your hand comes up to pitifully try to hide the sound as you look down at the lifeguard between your legs. “Yeah, and? Doesn’t look like you have a problem with my selfishness. Especially when I..” He trails off, deciding on a little bit of no mercy as he presses the tips of his two digits against your tight entrance before with little force, he slides them right in.

Completely and easily with how aroused you really are. Your pussy has been practically drenched since the first kiss and so his long fingers are lovingly greeted with the velvety warmth of your walls squeezing tight around the new invasion. They reached further than just the tip of his tongue. You could feel how long they are as he begins to slowly set a pace of his fingers thrusting in and out of your tightness, pressing sweet kisses to your clit that continues to pulsate from the contact. Whimpering moans easily spill from your parted lips, head tilting back against the cliff face as you succumb to the absolute bliss you feel rush through you.

Satoru’s head tilts up as well to admire the pretty sight of your chest rising and falling from your needy pants and your face scrunching up as he angles his fingers with each thrust until you gasp sharply and weakly grip his hair. “Bingo.” He jokes lightly, tongue continuing to swirl and flick against the sensitive bud as he slowly grinds his fingers deep inside and against the sweet spot. The wet sounds of your pussy only encourage him to pick up the pace of his fingering. Your inner walls squeeze tightly around his long digits, eyebrows furrowing in almost disbelief as you feel his fingers slowly stretch you out as they continue rubbing against the sweet spot.

Fuck, it all just feels so good. Every time you feel that hot flush of pleasure racing through you, you can’t stop your toes from curling and crying out for the lifeguard. The white-haired male thinks it’s a miracle that he’s able to even last this long before stuffing your tight cunt full of his thick cock. Especially after a brief taste of pleasure when your pretty lips were wrapped around him but, maybe it’s because he’s discovered just how fun it really is to tease you. To have your legs over his shoulders and trust his strength to hold you up against the cliff, the sun slowly setting behind him as his mouth devours you completely, fingers causing sweet squelching sounds as he pumps them inside of your tightness. It’s all too good in his eyes. Even before using his cock, Satoru knows he’s going to struggle if he doesn’t get his daily fix of you now. Hopefully, you’ll agree to see more of him. Besides, pleasure aside? He thinks you’re pretty cute.

“Satoru— Best lifeguard in existence, ah… Please? Wan’ more.” You plead breathlessly as you feel his third finger tease around the rim of your stretched entrance. Fingering feels good. It leaves you all warm and tingly but, you want more. Need it. You need his— You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the lifeguard laugh at your form of begging, pushing the two of his fingers against your tight walls slowly until you whine in response and finally, Satoru decides to give you what you want. “Alright, Miss Needy.” He says and you feel him start to cautiously guide your legs to slide off of his shoulders and your hands frantically come up to grip onto jagged rocks but before there was even a threat of a fall, Satoru’s strong arms wrap around your body and he lowers you to the ground, feet sinking into the warm sand and getting in between your toes.

You lean up with the intention to give him a sweet kiss but Satoru merely smirks before his hands firmly grasp your shoulders. “Now now, princess. Kissing can come later. You’re desperate for my cock, no?” He teases lightly, pressing against your shoulders as he forcefully moves you until you find yourself stumbling. With a playful pout but an eagerness to obey, you shuffle your feet in the sand until you’re turned around, curiosity growing on just how exactly he wants you positioned. This is all up to him, after all. The one who chose such a risky spot in public. Against a cliff. You still truly couldn’t wrap your head around it but, it’s exciting. So thrilling that your heart races.

You let a soft squeak when his large hand grips the back of your neck and he suddenly pushes you down. Without even needing to tell you, your hands come up frantically to make contact with the cliff, hands pressing against the aged rocks. “Good girl, you caught on.” Satoru praises, voice low and breathless. You’re bending over, legs trembling with anticipation and all you can focus on is his overwhelming presence behind you. You don’t even need to glance his way to know he’s towering above you.

Satoru’s pearly white clench together to prevent sounds from escaping as he admires the gorgeous sight before himself and, no. It wasn’t the ocean that was behind him. Nor the sight of families having fun on the beach that he stands guard over. Not the park up in the distance or dolphins appearing amongst the waves. He’s almost numb to those sights from having to come to work daily as a lifeguard but, this? This is a sight he could never become numb to. The sight of you bent over before him, body trembling and feet shifting in the sand as you keep your pretty ass on display for him. Fuck, he could practically see your pussy dripping from where he stands and your juices smeared across your inner thighs. Just like how his lower face is still covered in the sweetness that he refuses to wipe away.

You whine softly, almost becoming frustrated from the lack of both touch and cock inside of you. Satoru merely grins at your whining, large hands caressing gently along your bare sides, toying with the strings of your top bikini. “Such a needy little thing you are..” He says, hands coming down to firmly grip your waist as he steps forward, pressing his bare cock against your ass. You could feel it throb against your ass cheek, pre-cum slowly dripping onto you before he grinds slowly to smear the few droplets across your flesh. The lifeguard grips the base of his cock before playfully slapping it against your ass and eagerly you wiggle your ass back against his throbbing length.

“Fucking hell.” He laughs, endeared by your eagerness before he finally positions his length between your dripping folds. “You do realise I don’t have a condom, right? We can stop if you want me to.” The white-haired male expresses despite the light pleasure he feels from his length dragging along between your folds, feeling your sweet slick coating his length. You feel your hole already clench around nothing as if your body is begging to be filled up. “Wan’ you in me. Now.” You huff impatiently, feet shuffling out in the sand to spread your legs further.

“Going to have to teach you manners later.” Satoru says, though pleased by your ‘subtle’ desperation and so with his hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, he moves to position himself until the bulbous tip of his cock rests against your entrance. Not bothering to wait to confirm with you again, the lifeguard finally presses the tip of his length against your hole and with little force, the rim of your hole finally stretches around the head of his length and your pussy greets Satoru’s slowly sinking cock happily.

The sounds of your strained mewls lace with his deep groans as you feel his thickness slowly stretch out your inner walls and despite the amount of slickness your cunt excitedly produced, you still feel the lingering pain of being stretched out by something so big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever experienced before. Satoru feels breathless as your velvety walls clench around him, wrapping so snugly and tight around his throbbing cock as if eager to keep him inside of you, still slowly sinking in. Satoru tries to take his time pushing in to allow you to adjust but it’s as if your walls are eagerly gripping onto him, pulling him further and further.

Satoru completely bottoms out, throbbing erection completely sheathed as he pants softly, trying to contain himself as the pleasure pulses through him from feeling your inner walls squeeze around his length entirely. Your eyes are wide, barely able to focus on the details of the cliff and only on how wide he stretched your cunt out with ease. You could feel your own mess slowly dripping out despite practically being stuffed full and plugged up. The stretch hurts, stinging at first as you both try to just adjust to the new sensation. You bite back a soft whimper, head hanging forward and eyes closing tightly. Satoru soothingly rubs along your side, hoping to coax you into relaxing.

“Come on, baby. This is nothing compared to a jellyfish sting.” He says, pleased to get the reaction he wanted, which was you laughing at the silliness of his words. The lifeguard smiles behind you, red shorts down to his knees and your bikini bottoms hanging out of the pocket. Thankfully, with his touch, you find your body relaxing before him and the painful stretch dulls down until there’s not even a hint of it anymore. Truth be told, it was a pain you found yourself liking because of what it meant. The handsome lifeguard is inside of you. “Nn, move..” You mumble quietly and it’s a good thing that Satoru is so fixated on you because not even the wind along the beach could hide your words from him.

Satoru, not wanting to actually harm you; starts off slow. He slowly pulls back, his length sliding along your warm velvety walls until he pushes back in. He doesn’t go the entire way, just the first few inches but it’s enough to leave your toes curling in the sand and his name spilling from your lips in the form of a lewd moan. “How are you so tight—“ Satoru choked out, voice strained as you squeezed around his slowly thrusting length. He doesn’t dare pick up the pace, the pair of you melting into the pleasurable sensation of his cock sliding in and out of you and fuck, you swear you could feel even the details of his cock against your inner walls, thick and protruding veins.

You deliberately squeeze around him and instantly, Satoru knows what you’re silently pleading for. Crystal blue eyes widening with manic and lips forming a small grin, the lifeguard begins to pick up the pace of his thrusts, deepening them further. Your swollen lips stay parted as needy whines and moans of the lifeguard’s name escape, feeling each deep thrust that sends a surge of ecstasy through your entire body, nails grazing against the rocks. You could hear him pant softly, his cock sliding all the way out before he slams back in relentlessly, refusing to give you time to relax before he slams his thickness back inside of you.

“Fucking hell—“ He grunts out as you squeeze around him, his hand ghosting along your back before he swats your ass cheek firmly. A squeal escapes from feeling the sudden sting of pain, pushing back eagerly onto his throbbing cock. It feels beyond good to feel the way he stretches your walls out and fills you to the very brim. Truly stuffed full of his cock every time he pushes in deep. His hand reaches out to grip your hair, keeping your head tilted back. His other hand lands smack after smack against your ass, feeling your inner velvety walls squeeze around his thick cock with each impact and you whimper from the stinging pain that laces with the sweet pleasure of his thrusting cock.

Both of you nearly go still from hearing a sudden chime fill the surrounding air. Satoru’s phone is ringing. “Fuck—“ He says, hastily stuffing his hand into the pocket of his red board shorts to grab the vibrating object and check the contact, all the while his hips never stop moving. He refuses to let some call get in the way of both his pleasure and your own. Besides, it’s cute to see the way you clasp your hand over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds. He answers the call and presses it to his ear.

“Yeah, Suguru?”

His hips slam forward until his cock is entirely sheathed again and there’s the lewd sound of your juices squelching around his thickness. He’s breathless as he listens to the other voice. “Ah— Y/N from before left her bag with her friends and they’re wondering where she is?” He repeats, unable to stop himself from smirking down at your bent-over body. Your eyes widen at his words, your face feeling flushed. Fuck, you did forget your bag and that includes your phone. You whimper, his fingers tightening the grip on your hair. “She’s here with me… Do they want to talk to her? Alright, that’s fine with me.” He says, voice sounding so sickly sweet as he dangles the phone in front of you. “Go on.” He says, slowly sliding his length out of your tight cunt.

You reach with a trembling hand, heart racing with a mixture of anxiety and excitement at the thought of having to be on the phone when the lifeguard’s delicious cock pistons in and out of you; hard and fast. “H-Hello?” You manage to breathe out, desperately holding back the delighted squeal that wanted to escape as he grinds deep inside of you, prompting electrifying pleasure to course through your very being.

“Y/N? Where are you? You never came back with that lifeguard after you got stung. Are you okay?” You have to hold the phone slightly away from your ear to prevent your friends from hearing your heavy pants, feeling Satoru’s hand snake around to teasingly rub against your sensitive clit. Fuck, the sadist is having too much fun with this. “I’m— I’m okay!” You squeak in response, thighs closing in on the male’s intrusive hand. Your body is flushed with heat, swimming in the pleasure that his sliding length blesses you with. “I’ll get my bag later—“

“Tell them to give it to Suguru and he’ll leave it at the tower.”

You could barely process the words but you can definitely sense the fact that Satoru is enjoying this a bit too much. You muffle a whimper against your shoulder, eyes rolling and phone threatening to fall from your hand. “If you could ah.. nn— Leave it with Suguru? He— He’ll!! Satoru is asking Suguru to take it to the tower, I’ll get it later.” You manage to spill out between your heavy pants, voice high-pitched as you pathetically try to hide the evidence of your cunt being fucked hard. His fingers teasingly pinch your clit, watching as you tremble beneath him and he chuckles lowly, smoothing his hand just up slightly to apply pressure against your lower stomach. He could feel the way your stomach bulges slightly every time he pushes in deep and you bite back a sob, unable to contain how good it really feels to have him rapidly sliding his length in and out of your hot core.

There’s suspicious silence over the phone, quiet murmuring before your friend on the replies. “Okay, um— Hope you’re having fun, we’ll leave it with Suguru!” She says and you could hear the rushed movement of the phone being handed around and you barely managed to hold it up for Satoru to take, your head hanging forward as you whimper. He takes it with ease, despite his own body feeling like hot jelly as your heavenly walls keep a snug tight fit around his thickness. He holds the phone between his shoulder and ear, hands firmly gripping onto your waist as he slams into your cunt, causing you to cry out loudly, body pushing forward until your own cheek rests against the back of your hand that’s pathetically trying to hold you up by gripping one of the jagged rocks of the cliff.

“Mm? Oh, is it that obvious?” Satoru laughs in response to whatever Suguru is saying on the phone. At this point, you’re too much in your own world to give a damn about anything else. “Couldn’t resist such a pretty girl, you know that. Can I focus on what I’m doing now? Yeah. Uhuh. We’ll pick it up later. Thanks, Suguru.” He pauses. You feel him pausing for a moment, only his leaking tip nudged inside of you. “You’re the best, ah— I might tell you all about it later, I know you’re eager. What’s that? Bye!” Satoru practically sings his own cockiness into the phone before hanging up on his own best friend, tucking the object back into his pocket.

“Sorry about that, princess. Now, where were we?” He grunts out, trimmed nails digging into the flesh of your waist. You didn’t even need to see to know his lips were twisting to form his sinister smirk, leaning back far enough to inspect his own cock. It’s glistening with your juice, slowly dripping and fuck, it only arouses him further. You whine, wishing he’d return to fucking you properly, especially so you could forget the realisation that both his co-worker and your friends know what’s currently happening. You sucked at hiding how you were feeling, but in your defence; he was slamming into you hard enough that skin slapping against skin would have been heard through the small device.

“Fuuuuuuck me…” You plead, wiggling your hips back and managing to sink back onto an inch or two before Satoru shivers at the sweet feeling of you squeezing back around him. “You’re such a slut for my cock.” Satoru teases, feeling rather smug as tightens his grip on your waist to return to the steady pace of his thrusts, eager to pound into your tight hole. His crystal blue eyes roll at the sensation, white strands of hair falling over his eyes as his head falls forward, struggling to keep himself together. You just feel so fucking good around him.

You both are resisting the urge to reach climax, desperate to drag this out. Even as the sun begins to finally set and the sky darkens. Neither of you cared for anything but being with each other in the moment. That and how he roughly pounds into you. Not even a hint of a pause as his cock drills in and out, the lewd sounds of your juices squelching with each time his length enters you, balls slapping up against you. It’s a relief no one is taking walks like the previous couple before you are screaming for the heavens above and the white-haired lifeguard is eating it up. Even the stinging pain of his skin harshly meeting yours.

“Ah, ‘toru! Nn— Feels so—“ You cry out in ecstasy, stomach already starting to feel hot and tight with the urge of an orgasm growing more and more. You’re so blissfully fucked out that your mind couldn’t even form thoughts. Your body could only focus on the constant high, walls clenching around his length as he dragged himself out, only to push back into the brim. “Feels so good, huh?” Satoru pants out, his length throbbing harder than before. “Fuck, Y/N— in or out?” He manages to grunt out, hips stuttering as his own sensitivity begins to creep up on him. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what he meant and with a loud whimper, you tilt your head back to meet his hot gaze. deliberately squeezing around his thrusting length to send the message.

You want every drop of his cum inside of you. You didn’t care if it was rather greedy on the first time or if it made you selfish. You want him to breed you, like that’s exactly what you were made for. Besides, it’d just feel so nice to be able to feel full. The message was loud and clear despite no words actually leaving your lips and Satoru is thrilled to have permission; perhaps he was desperately hoping you’d agree because once his cock was stuffed deep inside of you, Satoru just knew that he wanted it this way and naturally, luck is always on Satoru’s side. He gets what he secretly wants.

His nails drag hot across your flesh before he snakes his arms around your trembling body, pressing his front down against your back and he embraces you rather lovingly from behind. Satoru grinds slow and deep, refusing to even pull an inch of his throbbing cock out. He wants to stay inside your tight warmth that squeezes around him. One hand travels down to slide two fingers between your folds, deciding to double the pleasure you feel by caressing your clit with the pads of his fingers, slowly rubbing in a circular motion. “Oh— Oh fuck..” You gasp sharply as his length rubs against your sweet spot and feel your sensitive clit throb beneath his touch. You couldn’t hold back any longer. Even if you want to hold out a little longer, your body refuses.

Hard waves of ecstasy crash over your body, thighs squeezing before shaking violently through the sudden, intense orgasm. You cum hard around his thrusting cock and it’s like your mind is just wiped clean of everything as your lips stay parted to let out the string of cries laced with lewd mewls of the lifeguard’s name, fingertips scraping against the rocks of the cliff face. You’re truly oblivious to how your own body reacts as you drown happily in the constant waves of pleasure that crash over your trembling body. Sweat causes strands of hair to stick to the sides of your temples, eyes rolling back and feeling the hot, sweet tingles spread across you, starting from your dripping cunt. Your hot walls clench repeatedly around his thickness as if so hungry for something. Desperate to milk out everything he’s holding back.

Satoru’s own mind short-circuits from the sudden orgasm that takes hold of you and it’s like your tight pussy is clinging, refusing for him to pull out. Even as his hands attempt to soothe you, Satoru’s hips slam forward for the final time and his own body is flushed with the searing heat of an orgasm. It’s like every fibre of his being loosens up as the bulbous tip of his cock buried deep inside of you, shoots out every sticky rope of cum, painting your inner walls white. His forehead rests against your shoulder, hot breath fanning against your skin as he pants your name out. It feels like heaven, to him. To have you wrapped around him as he pumps you full of his cum. He could feel his tense muscles finally relaxing and his length pulsating inside of you. He sighs out softly, pleasantly buzzed from experiencing the momentary high.

“Good girl..” He murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to the back of your shoulder as he continues to hold your weak body against him, hips stuttering as he slowly thrusts to aid in riding out both of your orgasms. You whimper happily, tears in your eyes from the intensity of your orgasm. Truth be told, if he wasn’t holding you up, you know you would have collapsed from weak legs. You continue to tremble gently, inner walls slowly clenching around the male’s length. It feels so damn good to be so full. Reluctantly, Satoru begins to slide his soft length out until he notices his sticky mess spilling out of your stretched hole that now squeezes around nothing. “Why..” You whine your complaint and a breathless chuckle escapes the lifeguard. “As much as I’d love the idea of staying inside of you, I can’t just keep you outside.” He reminds you, long fingers gathering up the strings of cum that dribble out, noticing that it’s already mixed with your own juices.

Fuck. Feeling daring enough, Satoru moves his long fingers towards your face. Your cheek is resting against the cliff when you notice the approach and with a quick side glance his way; you obediently wrap your lips around his digits, happily sucking off the mess. You moan softly at the saltiness laced with your own sweetness, slowly sliding your mouth up and down every bit of his fingers, slurping up the saliva that now threatens to spill. Your eyelids feel heavy from the previous orgasm and still coming down from that sweet high; you slowly blink and savour the taste that fills your mouth. Satoru gulps, completely entranced by the filthy sight of you sucking on his fingers.

“Fucking hell, you are one lewd princess.” He comments as he watches your tongue slowly drag up between his fingers, leaving behind a string of saliva as you pull away, flustered by his words. You’re still in a daze from the orgasm he practically blessed you with. You never really experienced it so intensely before. “It’d be a waste..” You mumble shyly, feeling the last of his cum smearing across your inner thighs as you rub them together. Even your clit still throbs slowly, too sensitive for any kind of touch. The lifeguard smiles, endeared by your words. “Uhuh. Well, if you ever need more. I’m happy to give it.” Satoru snorts, his hands coming up to grip your shoulders. It’s a miracle that you’re still standing and you know it’s because he’s holding you up as he guides you to turn around and face him.

You meet his piercing blue eyes, finally leaning up to get that kiss you tried to steal before. Satoru grins lightly, finding it cute that you’re still so needy despite just being fucked roughly against a cliff. He lowers himself to press a kiss to your lips, hastily tucking his cock back inside his shorts in a pitiful attempt to stop himself from getting hard. It’d hurt and he knows how irresistible you are in his eyes now. “Come on. Might as well go get your bag.” He says, pausing as he blindly tugs out your bikini bottoms that were stuffed into his pocket. With a gentle push against your shoulder, you understood that Satoru was signalling for you to briefly rely on the cliff face to hold yourself up as he lowered himself to his knees, groaning.

“Even I feel like jelly, what did you do to me?” Satoru jokes, inspecting the bottoms. Surely you tie the bows first? What do girls do with these? You bite back an amused smile at his confusion but say nothing, perhaps enjoying the sight of the usual cocky lifeguard being on his knees and looking like he needs to depend on someone. Satoru with the confidence of thinking he’s right, swiftly ties the side strings into bows and he brings it towards you. You grip his broad shoulders as you carefully step into the loops before you feel the male drag them up along your weak legs until they’re once again covering you.

“Such a gentleman. Will I get to see that side of you more?” You giggle softly, hand playfully ruffling up the male’s soft white hair before he stands up. Satoru, feeling playful, scoops your hand up with his and brings your hand up to kiss each knuckle dramatically. “Mwah. Of course, princess. Only you get such honours of this hot lifeguard taking care of you.” He says and you can hear the smirk in his voice. Your heart still flutters and not wanting the already developing feelings to be obvious, you pinch his cheek.

“That’s so cute of you, Satoru. First, you save me from a jellyfish sting. Then, you fuck me. Really good. And now, you kiss my knuckles. I really am spoiled.” You sigh out dramatically, caressing his cheek with the pad of your thumb and he tilts his head to press a kiss to your palm, eyes closing momentarily. “Only fair. You let me fuck you and it was really—“ He pauses, unable to think of a word and despite your hopeful gaze upon him, he merely smiles. “Stop distracting me. Bag.” He repeats, fingers adjusting your bikini top to cover you properly.

Naturally, you pout and roll your eyes from him not finishing his words, still leaning against the cliff. You watch him intently as he finds his sunglasses in the sand, tossing them into his backpack before zipping it up. “But, mister lifeguard..” You trail off, dramatically fanning yourself as your long lashes flutter. “I don’t think I can walk. You fucked me too good and my legs are weak. That and… the jellyfish sting.” You say, glancing at the part of your leg that is still bandaged up. Instantly, Satoru holds his hand up to stop you, shaking his head. “Ah, ah. Do you really think I’d let you walk at all? Who do you think I am?” He says, lips forming a playful pout.

Your cheeks start to hurt from grinning too much as you watch the lifeguard squat down low before you, hands coming back and gesturing for you to climb on. “You really do spoil me.” You giggle, feeling genuinely thankful towards Satoru because truthfully, he fucked you that good. You think your entire body is going to feel all gooey and weak for the rest of the night. You lean off the cliff, dramatically falling until your front lands against him, chest pressing against his toned back. You’re careful to not put all your weight, not that he cares and wrap your arms around his neck to cling onto him.

You couldn’t see the soft smile that graced his visage as he wrapped his arms beneath your knees and hoisted you up with ease, carrying you comfortably on his back and your legs dangle freely. Briefly, he leans forward. “Can you carry my backpack? It’s not heavy.” He says and you reach just in front of him to hook your fingers through the loop on top, holding it against his front body and he stands up. Satoru begins to walk in the direction you both originally came, taking his time. You glance towards the ocean, seeing the very last glimpse of the setting sun. You didn’t realise that it was even getting dark. You were so lost in the world of pleasure, thanks to the very same lifeguard who ‘saved’ you from a nasty sting. You tuck your head between his shoulder and neck, lips brushing lightly against his hot skin. “So, dinner and round two?” You whisper, breath ghosting along his neck. You could still feel his cum slowly leaking out. Satoru’s feet stumble in the sand, surprised by your words before his lips twist to form a grin, blue eyes becoming even more alive. With an eager nod and his arms tightening around your legs.

“Hold on, Y/N. I’m getting you out of here. Fast.”

And with those words spoken, Satoru begins to pick up the pace. You’re stunned by his high stamina, but it also leaves you feeling giddy from witnessing his excitement. You smile against his neck as you hug him tightly. You didn’t expect any of this today but, you’re already hungry for the future. You tighten your fingers on his backpack and press multiple kisses to his neck as you laugh.

“Bring it on.”

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mettatonsass · 8 months ago

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Hey all! So donations are really slow at the moment for moving costs. I want to do a sale so I'd feel better about accepting help, and also so I can hopefully drum up enough for rent.

$350/350 - End of May

$375/375 - 1st of June

$0/375 - 1st of July

So the school isn't closing! I still need to make my payments, so if anyone wants to commission me, please DM me or Reply! Thank you so much to everyone who has helped so far! I should be starting a few jobs in the near future, so hopefully I can stop going by commissions and very generous friends.

Animated Gifs - $5 per frame, 100 frame max.

Digital art - $50 full body, $25 waist up full color with shading

Cardigan - $200 min, possibly extra depending on materials. Custom dye is included in this price if you want it.

Premade Cardigan (Pictured below) - $150! (Follow me for info about a pride line to launch on Etsy or another platform, still working on that, in the coming months!)

Watercolor Painting - $25-$50 and it'll come with a frame.

Acrylic Painting - $25-$50 this will be on a canvas.

Please help if you can even if it's just reblogging.

Please DM me if you're interested, or reply to this post and I'll DM you.

Also if anyone wants to get something off my wishlist, it'd be appreciated! Currently I really need the fan on the list, as it's getting hot and my dorm has no ac.

Cashapp

Paypal

Venmo

Wishlist

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bajranggenerator01 · 7 months ago

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tightjeansjavi · 10 months ago

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The Rite of Movement | part two

“first impressions”

part one | honeymoonin’

A/N: well, well, well, fancy that we’re all meeting up here, huh? 🥵 first, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @itsokbbygrl who has been feeding my brain rot all day. I appreciate you so so much and your input is extremely helpful 🥺 I do not have a lot of knowledge on the adult film industry, but I’m eager to dive into it with y’all. We all have our different preferences and tastes when it comes to porn, (if you choose to watch it) but for me personally, I’m into porn that is catered to women. And guess who else is? Joel fuckin’ Miller! I hope these impromptu drabbles give you all the warm, fuzzy, and hornknee feelings. In this household, we support sex workers 💗 we also support healthy communication during sex, safe sex, and sexual liberation for everyone. Thank u also to @strang3lov3 for the title 🤍

~word count: 5.0k~

Summary: it’s your first time meeting Joel Miller, your new adult film partner

Pairing | pornstar!joel miller x pornstar f!reader (and a sprinkle of pornstar!tommy miller. More to come in later chapters!)

Warnings: 30s reader/40s joel, general discussions of the porn industry, brief discussions of workplace trauma, mild swearing, kissing, slightly inappropriate workplace relationship, boss/employee power dynamic but it’s only lightly explored in this chapter, voyeurism, light smut, f!masturbation, reader has no physical descriptions, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol consumption, +18, minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything!

When you moved back to Austin Texas looking for a fresh start after a rather rocky experience doing unsatisfying pornos as a regular on screen talent for the mega studio, Brazzers, you never expected to rejoin the industry through a professional studio. After being fired, you settled on making solo amateur films in an attempt to pay your bills and make ends meet. The only problem was rent in LA was nowhere near affordable, and the pay was significantly less than you’d been bringing in from the studio. That’s when you made the decision to leave the state of California entirely, looking eastward towards a once-familiar home.

Your roots were in rural Texas, and although your parents ultimately disowned you for joining the adult film industry, you still had a support group of fellow transplants in Austin that had missed you terribly.

The porn industry was always evolving, but with these changes came an influx of new content. You had a decent following for a small time account, but without the promotion budget that came with films produced at larger studios, your homemade solo films were inevitably pushed to the bottom of the pecking order, making it difficult to expand your audience. You thought about quitting entirely and getting an everyday job as a receptionist at some corporate office, until one night you stumbled upon a channel account that was based in Austin. “Miller-Co, Real people, real sex, professionally produced for your pleasure.” Surrounded by unpacked moving boxes on your single, sad, sofa, you poured yourself a tall glass of wine and clicked on the first video that appeared on the channel’s page, its male lead catching your eye immediately and you clicked the video details to find his name.

Joel Miller was big in every possible sense. From his hands, to his biceps, to his strong thighs. His cock was stunning. It wasn’t the longest cock you had ever seen, but it was deliciously thick, a girth that had you salivating immediately. Not only was it big, but the more you watched, the more you learned he sure knew how to use it. Despite Joel’s brooding nature, his attentive care to his partners on screen was something you had never seen before. He was a talker, a praiser and it seemed he only did scenes in positions where he could see his partners face while they came. The studio lighting was softer, inviting, and very, very intimate.

You clicked through more videos. Joel’s apparent brother, Tommy Miller, was also a big talker, but he reminded you more of a sweet frat boy with some serious golden retriever energy. In simple terms, Tommy liked to pound it. His style seemed more physically intense and fun, lighthearted even. He could do more sensual, intimacy based scenes, but that was more Joel’s forte, you gleaned as you continued to consume their content. Tommy’s cock had an inch or so on his brother, but his cock wasn’t as thick. What it lacked it girth it made up for with how it was curved, and you could only imagine how easy it would be for him to hit that spot inside of you that sent you keening.

The more you watched these two brothers in their element, the damper your flimsy panties grew. It had been so long since you had gotten off while watching porn that you weren’t even sure if you could have a successful orgasm from it. Boy, were you wrong.

Your clit was soon overstimulated and pulsing beneath the soft silicon of your vibrator. You tossed the toy to the side and paused the video while you caught your breath for a few minutes, coming down from your high. A sense of post-orgasmic clarity settled in your mind and something was telling you that working for this channel’s studio might end up being your calling. A wonderful, horny twist of fate. Your ticket back into the industry that had left you both emotionally and physically bruised.

You couldn’t help the gleeful giggle that slipped past your lips the further you scrolled down the channel’s main page, looking for information on Miller-Co’s parent studio, and discovered a link at the bottom: Auditions.

You scrambled to update your resumé, and threw together a portfolio of your past work and clicked on the link. You submitted your application and downed the rest of your wine before closing the screen to your laptop with a decompressing sigh.

No one could say that you didn’t try.

On the other side of town Joel Miller was just closing up the studio for the evening to meet Tommy at their usual watering hole for a drink. His phone buzzed, notifying him that he had a new email and while he walked to his truck, he opened the email.

He had been recently looking for a new film partner outside of his current talent pool. Things were going well at his and Tommy’s boutique adult film studio, they were starting to see growth, and that meant making sure there was regularly fresh content for their growing audience.

Despite receiving 100s of applicants a day from his online posting on his studio’s PornHub channel, none of them were quite what Joel was looking for..until he opened up your application. Joel got a sudden overwhelming feeling in his chest that you were exactly the type of on-screen partner he was looking for. He exited out of the email and sent a quick text to Tommy. Hey, I'm gonna be a few minutes late. Got an applicant that I think will be perfect.

After sending the text to his brother, he opened the email once more. Your resumé was brief, and a noticeable frown crossed over his face when he saw that you were ex-Brazzers. When Joel was 18 and fresh to the industry, he worked for Brazzers. Being so green, he hadn’t known what exactly to expect, so he suffered through in the name of independence and regular pay, but he had hated it, and especially hated the way it made him feel. The culture there had led him to never wanting to partake in making that type of porn again. There was no emphasis on the comfort of his female partners, little to no communication between the actors, and Joel ultimately was uncomfortable with following through with the things he was requested to do. Half the time it didn’t even feel good. And what the hell is the point of making porn if both participants aren’t having fun and feeling pleasure?

For this reason, he felt wrong viewing the content that you had made with Brazzers. Given his prior experience, he could only imagine what you had gone through, and he didn’t want to see you that way. His business was solely based around respect, consent, and comfort as a top priority.

He opted to view your solo amateur content instead. You were a natural, and he knew that he could easily make you a star, if that’s what you truly wanted. Joel knew that mixing pleasure with business, in this industry in particular, could end up messy, but he never felt so physically and emotionally attracted to another human being till now.

His fingers worked fast on the screen as he responded to the email.

Hello,

It’s after working hours for me, but I just went over your application. You’re a natural, and I would be extremely interested in meeting for an official audition. Here is the address to the studio, and my personal work number.

I am off tomorrow, but if you are interested, I can go ahead and schedule a meeting for noon?

Looking forward to hearing from you,

Joel Miller.

He receives an email response from you five minutes later just when he starts the engine of his truck.

Hello Joel,

I would absolutely be interested in coming in for an official audition tomorrow. Noon works for me as well.

See you then!

He lets out a sigh of relief at your response and despite his goal to remain professional, he can’t help the flush that rises to his cheeks at the thought of filming with you. He sends a calendar invite to your email address with the meeting time of noon tomorrow. He tosses his phone into the cup holder and finally drives to the bar.

“She’s ex-Brazzers. Moved all the way from LA just like you and me.” Joel discusses with Tommy over a beer. He takes a sip from the rim and slides his phone across the table to the opposite end of the booth where Tommy is sitting.

“And she’s only been doing solo amateur content as of late?”

“Yeah, she’s only got a few videos up, but it sounds like she’s ready to dip her toe back into the industry. She’s a natural, Tommy. Real captivatin’ on camera.”

Tommy glances down at your application and lightly taps out a bit of ash from his cigarette in the ashtray resting near his elbow. “That so? Well, guess I’m just gonna have to see for myself jus’ how captivatin’ she is.” He looked over at his brother with a knowing grin and pulled out his earbuds from his jacket pocket and slipped them in.

Joel intently observes his brother watching one of your solo films and when he sees Tommy reach down to adjust himself, he couldn’t help but grin.

Tommy’s cheeks have a bright flush to them as he hits pause on the video, taking out one of the earbuds and makes direct eye contact with his brother. “Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous. Those eyes? Brother, I feel like I was being sucked into the screen! God, and her little whimpers? The way they kept gettin’ higher and higher—” Tommy said animatedly.

Joel feels a twinge of jealousy zip up his spine like he was shocked. Tommy’s never been shy, and neither has Joel, but he’s already feeling protective over you and he hasn’t even met you yet. “Yeah, she is a thing of beauty, ain’t she? I don’t know what it is about her, but I love her energy.” Joel comments thoughtfully.

Tommy, being the horndog that he is, can't help but look back down at the screen and the part where the video has paused. Your thighs are spread wide, fingers playing with your clit, teasing yourself while making occasional direct eye contact with the camera. “And god, that pussy? Y’ever see somethin’ so pretty? Bet she tastes like fuckin’ honey.” Tommy drawls.

“Tommy.” Joel snaps his fingers in front of his face in a quick motion. “Don’t go gettin’ too excited now. I’m the one meetin’ with her.” Joel gently reminds him.

“Well, I can see why ya like her so much already, Joel.” He winks and slides the phone back in his direction. “Don’t go gettin’ your panties in a twist. I think just based on this single video, she’s gonna be a good fit. On a serious note, I hope that Brazzers didn’t fuck her up too much.” He reaches for his beer and takes a sip.

“It’s her energy man, it’s infectious. She seems so gentle, soft, but you can tell that she knows exactly what she wants just by looking into her eyes alone.” Joel said rather dreamily.

“Y’gonna give ‘er the ole Joel Miller razzle dazzle then?” Tommy wiggled his eyebrows playfully with a chuckle.

Joel rolled his eyes and flipped him off before taking another sip of his beer. “All depends on her comfort level during our first interaction. I want her to know that she gets to call all the shots.”

Tommy tips his beer towards Joel in a mock salute. “And yet they say chivalry is dead.”

At first you wonder if Miller-Co is just another too good to be true scam and Joel had played you, providing you with the wrong address on purpose. Maybe this was a sign for you to never try studio work in the adult film industry again. You were standing outside of a hardware store, triple checking the address while simultaneously looking up at the sign: Miller-Co

Joel is sitting behind his desk when he sees you teetering around outside. He checks the time on his watch—quarter to noon—and smiles. He’s a punctual person himself and always had this philosophy of showing up earlier than planned out of respect for everyone’s valuable time.

He gets up from his desk and walks towards the door just as you’re turning on your heel to walk away.

The door swings open behind you with a sweet chime, and then you hear the raspy timbre of his voice, his smooth southern accent that already has you feeling weak in the knees.

“Are you my 12 o’clock?” He grins a boyish grin that oozes a level of natural confidence and charm that men dream of possessing.

“Oh.” You laugh and fiddle with the strap on your purse. “I totally thought I had the wrong place for a second there.”

“Sorry ‘bout the confusion, darlin.’ Folks ‘round these parts can be…sensitive to what we’re doing here. Gotta be sure they ain’t have a clue what they’re walkin’ by, be discreet, y’know?” He holds the door open with his shoulder effortlessly, and you get a good look at his handsome features. Joel Miller is tall, well-groomed, and there’s something immediately comforting about him. You can’t quite put your finger on what that thing is, but it might have to do with the selfless energy that radiates from the depths of his soft, espresso colored eyes. Or maybe it’s the endearing heart-shaped patches in his gray speckled beard.

“Oh, thank god!” You laugh again, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, and he chuckles. Something flickers in your eyes that Joel registers as unabashed curiosity. He clocks the slight hitch of your breath, your pupils dilating.

“I take it you’re probably used to dingy warehouses, unkempt garages, and the occasional sketchy office building?” Joel quips. He slips one of his hands into the faded pocket of his denim jeans.

“Yeah, how did you know?” You retort with false sarcasm and a small smile.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Lucky guess?”

“Well, you didn’t not hit the nail on the head, Mr. Miller.”

You swear you see him blush, the tops of his cheeks turning a flushed pink color. “Oh, please, call me Joel, darlin’. Mr. Miller makes me feel so..old.” He laughs and subtly gestures to the open door. “And hope ya don’t mind me sayin’ this, but ain’t you jus’ the sweetest n’ prettiest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of layin’ my eyes on.” He winks. “Shall we?”

“Oh, please, you aren’t old at all, Joel,” you brush away his self deprecation as his compliment leaves you feeling flustered, the heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. “So, your videos weren’t lying then? You really are a sweet talker?” You flirt back.

“Some days I feel like I am, got a bad back and ‘a that. And, oh, I am quite the sweet talker, darlin’.” He holds the door open for you as you slip past him, brushing up against the rough denim of his jeans due to his sheer mass taking up most of the entryway.

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach when your eyes zone in on an all-to familiar black leather couch pressed up against the side of the wall. He notices your immediate discomfort and hesitation and clears his throat alongside you. “We uh—don’t film anythin’ on that, darlin’. It’s there more as a joke than anythin’.”

He sees you visibly let out a sigh of relief as your shoulders relax. You don’t see his face, but his lips are set in a deep frown and he genuinely feels bad. “There’s no leather couches or bright, headache inducin’ lights where I film, darlin’,” he adds softly and steps around you to pull back the chair at his desk.

You’re not even sure what to think or say as he pulls the chair back and you quietly sit down and watch as he sits across from you. “Hey, before we get into talkin’ business, I’m aware that you worked for Brazzers at one point, saw it on the application you submitted, and I jus’ wanted to let you know that me sayin’ ‘lucky guess’ back there was to ease your nerves. I understand what it’s like coming from that world, could tell that you were feelin’ a bit apprehensive, and I didn’t wanna jump right on into discussing your portfolio out in the open, y’know?” He held steady eye contact with you which was something that you normally would be intimidated by, but Joel wasn’t trying to make you feel small, his concern was genuine.

“It’s just been awhile for me since working there, but I appreciate you trying to ease the tension, Joel. I swear I’m not always this jumpy,” you add softly and he smiles.

“S’alright. I understand. I jus’ wanna start off by sayin’ that I want you to be comfortable, darlin’. That’s our first priority. We can film in the studio if you want. Now, personally, I never film here. All feels a bit too sterile for me; got a set up at home to film there. Feels more natural, but if you would rather be here, we can make that work.” He clicks a few buttons on the desktop mouse and pulls up your application so he has it to directly reference.

“Your first priority is that you want me to be comfortable?” The question tumbles past your lips and your pupils are blown wide. In past jobs your comfort was always pushed to the very bottom. It was viewed as insignificant and something that you were told you’d just have to suck up and get over. There was always a limited budget, which meant limited time, which meant little care given to anything other than hard and fast, turn and burn shoot days. And the studio executives cared about little except increasing profits year over year, so time and time again, you’d endured a lack of connection with your scene partners and set crew alike, never more than a quick direction thrown your way. No, comfortable was a far cry from what you were used to.

He’s not taken aback by your response at all. It’s something that he’s all-too familiar with, unfortunately. “Of course, darlin’. That’s the key to makin’ good porn, ain’t it? Both parties gotta be comfortable, otherwise the audience won’t feel connected to what they’re viewin’. All sex sells, but intimacy sells more.”

“I’m just not used to this kind of treatment, Joel. I honestly didn’t even believe that it existed in the adult film industry. The whole notion of comfort above all is just…new for me.”

“I know it is, darlin’,” Joel takes a breath before continuing, “I’m ex-Brazzers, too. Started there when I was 18, and left on my 30th birthday.” This was a piece of Joel’s past that was especially private, it came with baggage he still wasn’t entirely ready to unpack, and yet sharing this with you felt comforting for him.

“Oh my god, did they fire you too?” You lean forward in your chair feeling shocked that someone else in the industry shared the same awful experience as you did.

Joel’s heart shatters when he learns that you were fired. It makes him angry for you and the other women in the industry that were often released from their contracts for frivolous reasons. How could they let someone like you go? You have all the potential in the world with real, raw, talent, and on top of that, you were an absolute knockout. Those motherfuckers had a goldmine with you, and yet they couldn’t see what Joel sees.

“No, darlin’,” he frowns, “they didn’t. My brother and I made the decision to quit on our own. We stayed in LA for awhile with some old costars and made some amateur films before we moved back home to Austin, and started our own studio. I’ve strived to make porn that is catered to women. It’s a market that’s been largely untapped, and I’m lookin’ to shift the industry by showing how profitable it is,” he explains honestly. “And folks deserve to see real sex full of connection and intimacy and even sometimes some bloopers,” he chuckles. “It’s something that I’m incredibly passionate about, and that’s why it’s my utmost priority to make sure that you are respected and feel comfortable.”

You shrink in on yourself when the wave of sudden emotions hit and you don’t even realize your crying till Joel is getting up in a haste with a few tissues in his hand. His eyes are laced with concern as he crouches in front of you. “Hey, I’m sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean t’make ya cry. I jus’—know how harmful the industry can be, and ‘m tryin’ to build a safe space within it.”

Fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks as you try to laugh through the tears. You feel pathetic for breaking down in front of this man who you have only just met. He must think you’re a lost cause in the industry if you can’t even hold yourself together for more than five minutes. You sniffle as he gently brings the tissue upwards towards your face and gently brushes away your tears. “I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t mean to turn into this blubbering fuckin’ mess.”

“Hey, ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, darlin’,” he coos. “Maybe we wanna get outta here for some fresh air? If you’d like? Know a nice quiet coffee shop jus’ down the street. How do you feel about that?”

You look at him through wet lashes and parted lips when you slowly nod. “Uh—yeah. That would..be great. I’m just not exactly comfortable in this environment,” you murmur.

“I understand. No hard feelin’s taken or anythin’. Would you like some help gettin’ up?” He offers you his freehand.

“You’re not..upset?” You question softly and grasp his hand in your palm as he gently helps you up from the chair. His palm is warm against yours and massive in size.

“Upset? No, not at all. I meant it when I said that your comfort is a priority, darlin.’” He affirms.

After you’ve composed yourself a bit, you let Joel lead the way to the quiet coffee shop down the street. He holds the door open for you and lets you pick a secluded table in the back. When you offer to pay for the coffees, he interjects with a small grin and shakes his head. “S’on me, darlin’. G’on now and make yourself comfy,” he nudges you gently towards the table.

It’s a depressing thought to have, but you think about how no man has ever treated you with the kindness and respect that Joel Miller has thus far. It’s the bare minimum, but you appreciate him for it deeply.

He returns with two lattes and places them on the table before taking a seat across from you. “Y’jus’ let me know when and if you wanna continue the conversation, alright? There’s no rush. I ain’t got anywhere else to be.”

You grasp the mug between your palms and let the warm steam wafting from the mug kiss your skin as you look over at him. “Well, I figured it would be okay with me to share with you a list of things I’m not comfortable with?” You lean over the side of the chair and reach into your purse to pull out a folded up piece of paper that you drafted up after submitting the application last night.

He nods and takes a sip of his latte. “Of course that’s okay for you to do. I’ve got a form for you to sign back at the studio that includes a section disclosing your limitations and your personal comforts. We like to keep it on file so we can prepare everyone before shoot day, that way there ain’t any accidental crossed boundaries.” He reaches across the table and gently takes the paper from you.

Despite everything Joel has told you thus far, you’re afraid that he’ll end up being judgemental based on your list. It’s pretty much everything that mainstream porn runs on: bondage, punishment, gang bangs, overstimulation, and anal to name a few. You’re already thinking of getting up from the table, and protecting what’s left of your ego when he sets the paper down, reaches for your hand, gently picks it up and kisses the back of it while looking into your eyes. “This is it? We can absolutely work with this, darlin’. Don’t you worry none,” he reassures you.

His lips against your skin are like two plush pillows. Soft, silky and it’s hard to not imagine what those lips would feel like pressed against either of your own. You expected shame, and instead were greeted with the complete opposite. He validated you, and that alone was making your head spin like a ferris wheel.

“I know you ain’t have any pleasant experiences in the industry, and that’s a damn shame. But I can promise you that you won’t have to worry about none of that with me. Okay, darlin’? Sweet girl, I’m gonna be honest with ya because that’s jus’ the kind of man I am. Y’got some serious talent that I think has been severely overlooked. I can make you into a real star if that’s what you want. I’m simply jus’ actin’ as a guideway for ya. And between you and me? I love my job, and I hope that maybe I’ll be able to turn those bad experiences you had into somethin’ good.”

Your eyes focus on his lips and their movement with each word that flows past them. Neither of you realize how close you’re leaning over the table till you can practically taste the hazelnut latte lingering on his tongue.

“Joel, I swear I heard every word you just said, and please tell me if I’m being unprofessional given the circumstances, but I really want to kiss you right now,” you breathe.

His brow raises and a dimple pokes through his cheek as a grin tugs across the corner of his lips. He chuckles softly, “Well, lucky for you, it’s totally appropriate given the circumstances. Jus’ one of the many perks of bein’ in this industry, darlin’. Unbridled desire is personally one of my favorite things.” He leans in closer, his tone dropping down to an octave that made you tingle with desire, and admits quietly, just for you, “If we weren’t here in this coffee shop right now, I’d show you just how unbridled my desire can be.”

You gripped the edge of the table for dear life. It took everything in you to not rip that man’s clothes off right then and there. That part of you that had laid so dormant was crackling to life again, and he could see those emotions swirling in your eyes. “Maybe we should get those papers signed so that you can show me if you’re really just all talk?” Your brow quirked upwards, mouth lifting into a flirtatious smirk just as his nose brushed against your own.

“Think you’ve seen enough to me to know that I ain’t bluffin’, darlin’.” His hot breath fans your lips as you reach across the table and rest a hand on his shoulder, the other steadying your balance on the table. Joel lifts his hand to your face and gently guides you by your chin. His lips brush yours, testing the waters while your tongue swipes confidently at his lower lip. He surges forward, hand moving from your chin to cup your face where your jaw meets your neck and deepens the kiss. You unconsciously let a soft moan loose, lost in the feeling, and Joel feels his cock come to life at the sound. It’s a good thing the barista behind the counter is too busy watching a YouTube video to see you and Joel practically gorging on each other's faces.

You can feel him smiling against your mouth before he leaves you with a final press of his lips and pulls back, sitting back in his chair, shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he brings his thumb up to the corner of his lips and wipes away a stray strand of saliva. “Think I’m gonna get a little somethin’ to eat. Y’want anythin’?” He rasps and reaches for his wallet in his pocket.

“Yeah.” You grin and rest your chin in your palms. “Something..sweet.”

A flush rises to his cheeks as he stands up from the chair and discreetly adjusts himself in his jeans and you giggle at the sight. You’d think it was his first rodeo by how quickly he had grown hard from just kissing you. Then again, Joel did say that he loved his job. And if he treated the less significant parts of his job like that, you were more than looking forward to seeing, feeling, him do the other parts of his job he loved, too.

You sat in that coffee shop for hours getting to know one another. It felt like no time had gone by at all, and it was obvious that you both were feeling that spark of an immediate connection blossoming. There was no denial that you and Joel were physically attracted to one another, but you had no idea what doors were now opened because of this first meeting. The chemistry was palpable, electricity ricocheting off the walls, and that unspoken language between one another was apparent.

“Hey, Joel? I think I’m ready to sign those forms now,” you spoke, wading through the building sexual tension.

“Perfect.” He grins. “Let’s go n’get ‘em signed.” He pats your thigh gently.

Once you’re back in the studio, Joel goes over every section of the documents and answers every single one of your questions with direct thoughtfulness and professionalism. You can hear your pulse beating in your ears when you sign the last page, clenching your thighs to abate the need growing between your legs.

“Now, there’s no rush to filmin’ anythin’ right away, okay? We don’t gotta dive head first if you wanna go home and process all of this, I completely understand. But, if you’re interested, I can give you my address and we can—”

“How about you drive me to your place instead?” You coyly interjected with a grin.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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shivaangensets · 11 months ago

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harrietvane · 6 months ago

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So, in Busman’s Homeymoon, Lord Peter buys Harriet Vane a mink cloak worth 950 pounds (according to the Dowager Duchess’ journal entry), but he buys Tallboys for “only” 650 pounds.

Even bearing in mind that real estate really did used to be cheaper, do you understand how that is possible? Or how to find out more about relative purchasing power? I used an online calculator website which gave me some figures, but it still seems insane that one could buy an entire Elizabethan farmhouse for 2/3 the price of a garment! Very curious to learn from others who understand this better than I do.

Ah, I see my esteemed colleague @oldshrewsburyian has also had some interesting thoughts on this, so I'll link that here as well before I begin.

So, it's a legitmate question, and there's no catch-all simple answer (in the gotcha sense of 'why didn't i know that bit of cultural Truth'), but there are mitigating factors that take it from a ridiculous price comparison, to merely outlandish. Even taking into account that the coat is quoted in guineas, not pounds, and that PW says the bank valued Talboys at £800 via a mortgage (the paid price was a discount, for paying in cash quickly, which is Plot Relevant), it gets us to roughly the same place, value-wise. Or shall we say PRICE-wise, rather than value, as I'll get into below. There's several factors at play here - they mainly relate to class, and spending power:

-The house is Not That Great, in terms of the kind of property that PW would usually be buying. I mean it is still a large-ish house, big enough to have 2 adults and small children in, but it's not what would be on his radar normally. The only reason they know about it, it that it's near a place where HARRIET grew up as a child. It's not getting any high marks in particular Beauty, Convenience, or Quality - the main reason HV's drawn to it is sentiment, rather than anything else. They both know that they will have to significantly add to it, and alter it, in order for it to be a comfortable home. That would usually be out-of-budget for someone in Harriet's position, who would expect to buy something that meets her needs 'as-is'. Most people looking at buying that house would be Harriets not Peters, so it might be a tough sell.

-The house has no power, and limited plumbing: There's dark references to DRAINS by the dowager duchess, it's entirely possible that this house has no modern plumbing at all - they make the comparison that the huge palace the Wimseys grew up in wasn't plumbed until recently, but then again they do have about 800 servants, whereas Talboys is just a regular house: they will have Bunter alone (at first), with an assist from Mrs Ruddle. There's mention of "a cistern" with some basic valves, but the scullery is mentioned as having a copper, from which hot water is "scooped into a large bath-can" - a copper being, simply, a large metal basin over a fire, in effect. No running hot water, maybe no flushable loos - it's a factor. They also talk specifially about having to electrify Talboys themselves - it's candles and lamps until then. It's fancy camping. By the mid-1930s, a lot of middle-class buyers would expect a little more convenience in both water and wiring, unless they had significant support staff, which Talboys would not be expected to house.

-There's probably no farm! It's a farm house - not a wider land purchase. People like PW's brother the Duke are wealthy primarily because they own land, not because of the big palace they have (which eats money, rather than generates it). The land is what gives them spending power, because other people are paying them rent to live on it, farm on it, or both. PW's own personal 'younger sibling' wealth is also mentioned somewhere to be primarily in real estate (assumed to be in London) - sad to say: he's a landlord, and that's why he's rich. Talboys, on the other hand, as a purchase, would not, in almost any way, be expected to generate revenue through either farming, agriculture, or charging rent. Until they invent house flipping in 80 years, or until the motorway goes through in 40 years, there's not much expectation that Talboys would increase all that much in value.

-Lastly, there's a massive disparity in what The Market Will Bear when we compare a basic residence vs a luxury item (like a mink coat) in the mid-1930s. This is not particular to that time, though. Like any first-year economics student will tell you, the price of something is not it's intrinsic value, it's what someone is WILLING to pay for it. If someone is willing to pay such a price, that's the price it will be. So, we're not comapring Objects, we're comparing Buyers: the the main purchasers of a slightly run-down farmhouse located nowhere special are Harriets, and main purchasers of mink coats are Peters. Talboys is priced for Harriets. The mink coat is priced for Peters.

Compare for example, a contemporary parallel: the Hermes Birkin bag. It's a leather handbag with a starting retail price of about USD 11,400. Just for the bag. Then, you have fancier versions of the fancy bag, eg wikipedia tells me one version sold at auction for USD 380,000 in Hong Kong in 2017. Now, the Harriets of today are not buying a Hermes Birkin handbag, but they are probably trying to buy slightly run-down houses outside urban centers for (one hopes) slightly less than 380k. The Wimseys of the worlds are clearly buying Birkin bags. In that way, it's actually pretty easy to get to a place where Person A might buy a single luxury item for X pounds, and Person B might buy a whole residence for X pounds, and neither feel like they'd done something insane. The key here is in a Wimsey/Vane marriage, they run up against this concept immediately, and repeatedly.

There's a good reason the first epistolary section of the novel is almost entirely taken up with money chat - the ring, the purchase of shirts from Burlington Arcade, the marriage settlement, the gift from the bride to the groom, the mink coat, the bitchy exchange between Helen and Harriet about HV being allowed "six free copies of her book" to distribute. These people come from 2 fundamentally different experiences of the world. They might have gotten engaged using the word 'Magistra', specifically to emphasise their fundamental equality (in the context of learning and the mind, to begin with), but it can't be denied: there's gaps that need to be bridged. They both know parts of their married life will be spent in attempting to do that, hopefully to their mutual satisfaction. Mention of a mink coat for 950 guineas is a nice, neat shorthand for illustrating what's still at play between them here.

#dorothy l sayers #and this isn't even getting into the delicious things like #a) helen being considered unspeakably vulgar by calling attention to the price of HV's ring but #b) peter being considered friendly and polite by openly stating what he paid for talboys #like these are some delicate class rules at play here! when to mention money and when NOT to mention money! context matters!#here's so much going on - this is (I feel) what DLS means when she says she couldn't simply marry them off #they'd have to really engage with what that would mean #and then she wrote 2 whole novels about it #replies #fromthedeskofcripslock

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a-shade-of-blue · 3 months ago

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New Gaza fundraiser asks I've received (29 August)

Eman (@2hemaa, @1hema): Eman is a high school student. Her home has been destroyed. She and her family of 7 has been displaced at least 6 times. They are trying to evacuate to Egypt. (https://gofund.me/20a225c5) (shared by 90-ghost)

Muhammad Abu Hamam (@ma7moudgaza2): Muhammad is 27 years old. He was saving money for marriage but the current war has destroyed his source of income and now he has no money. They need money to sustain their daily lives and buy a tent for the family to live in. (https://gofund.me/31bb402a) (vetted by el-shab-hussein)

Salah Ahmed Mohammed Alshareef (@salahahmed90, @manarsalahfamily): Salah and his wife Manar have 2 children: Youssef (12) and Nour (7). They have been displaced several times. Nour has only started school for 2 weeks before her school was destroyed. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/32a4669a) (vetted by 90-ghost)

Farah (@nada55, @farahh2003): Farah is 20 years old. She dreams of returning to uni to finish her computer science degree. She and her family have been displaced for 7 times. The occupation is bombing areas near where they are staying. Food is expensive and her family has to pay rent on the land their tent is on. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/3523e2a7) (#310 on the verified fundraiser list by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi, vetted by apollos-olives)

Mohammed & Sohaib Asfour (@mohammedabasan): Mohammed is a nursing student, his second brother was studying medicine, and another of his brother was studying law. Their education was interrupted by the genocide as schools and universities are destroyed. Two of his brothers, Ahmed and Hamza, are children dreaming to become doctors. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/af0ea2f5) (shared by 90-ghost)

Samer Abu Ras (@samerpal): Samer and his wife Shorouq have 3 children, the youngest of which is not even two years old yet. Their oldest son Qusay has had heart problems since birth and urgently needs surgeries and treatments. They are seeking funds to evacuate to a safe place and for Qusay to continue his treatment. (https://gofund.me/e4bf9364) (#196 on the verified fundraiser list vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi)

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 13 July - 25 July.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 26 July -29 July.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 30 July - 1 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 2 August - 5 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 6 August - 10 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 11 August - 14 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 15 August - 18 August

Click here for my Masterlist for fundrasiers from 19 August - 21 August

Click here for my Masterlist for fundrasiers from 22 August - 24 August

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 25 August - 28 August

How does vetting and verification work? See post here. (also read comments regarding 90-ghost and why we trust the campaigns he has shared)

Click here for my Google Doc with my complete masterlist of all the Palestinian gfm asks I've received, updated daily (along with other verified ways to send aid to Gaza). (I originally compiled it so it is easier for me to answer asks, but since I'm sharing it on my personal IG I might as well share it here too)

See post here for other verified ways to send aid to Gaza.

Don't forget your Daily Clicks on Arab.org, it's free!!! and Every click made is registered in their system and generates donation from sponsors/advertisers.

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seventeenytiny · 1 year ago

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1:00am (Reposted Again)

I am so sorry for reposting again this but Tumblr is mad at me and I don’t think my post was showing up in tags so I am trying one last time :(

Smut: Minors DNI

Felix tries to help you relax after the two of you sneak out to the hot tub late at night

Contains: Smut, Minor DNI, Oral (female receiving), public sex

Word Count: 1769

Author’s Note: I’ve had this in my drafts for way too long because I was never happy with how it turned out. After much editing, I’m still not in love with it but screw it I gotta post it. Just use this as a guide and make it sound better in your head lol.

“Meet me by the hot tub at 1am,” Felix whispered as he passed by, his hand grazing your hip. His deep voice sends chills down your spine, anticipation of what the night holds has you buzzing.

When you agreed to rent a vacation cabin out in the woods with a group of friends, you didn’t realize it would lead to you and Felix hooking up. You wait patiently for night to fall and for friends to all go to their rooms. You change into your bikini, wrapping yourself in a cover-up to help keep you warm from the chilly night air. Once you see all the lights out and the sound of soft snores fill the cabin, you cautiously creep out, careful to not alert anyone of your whereabouts. The path to the hot tub is dark, but your eagerness helps you push forward. Letting the moonlight guide you, you see a shadowy figure standing near the tub, the figure’s long hair clearly indicating it’s Felix. As you approach, he runs his fingers through his locks, a smile that could light up the night appears on his face.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” He says, embracing you.

“Of course, I’d come for you.” You smile shyly at him.

“Well let’s not waste any time and get in.” He takes off his shirt, exposing his abs and leaving him in just his swim trunks. You freeze upon seeing his upper half, his thin yet toned body is more beautiful than you could have imagined.

“No need to be shy around me Y/N. Here, let me help you,” He reaches towards you to help remove your cover-up, his eyes scanning your body as the cloth falls to the ground. The crisp air causes goose bumps to cover your skin, consequently, your nipples noticeably harden. Felix licks his lips, clearly enjoying the view in front of him.

“So beautiful...” he mumbles to himself.

“What was that Lixie?”

Lixie? That was the first time he heard you call him that, the new nickname makes his heart flutter.

“Ah nothing... Let’s get you warmed up Y/N.” He takes your hand and leads you into the tub, watching you carefully to make sure you don’t slip. You sigh in relief as the warm water covers your chilled body. Felix follows in behind you, you take note of the slight bulge in his swim trunks. Once he’s seated he reaches over to you to pull you into his lap

“Come here baby girl, I’ll make sure you stay nice and warm.”

“You're too kind Felix,” you joke as you make yourself comfortable in his arms, trying to hide the blush on your face. Baby girl was a name you could get used to, especially if it was Felix calling you that.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around your torso, lightly grazing your underboob.

You both stay in that position for a bit, casually chatting about random topics and life in general. As the conversation continues you feel one of Felix’s hands slowly creep towards your core. You carry on with what you were saying, acting as if nothing is happening. You couldn’t reveal just how desperate you are for his touch just yet.

You readjust yourself on his lap, opening your legs slightly more for him, your ass feeling his very noticeable erection.

“How’s work been going for you baby girl? I know it was bothering you quite a bit last month.”

“Oh it still sucks, I feel like I can’t relax because I know how much I’ll have to do when I get back from this trip.”

“Is your boss still being a cunt?”

“The cuntiest.” You reply with an exasperated sign.

“That’s no good, why don’t I help you try to relax?” His hand moves to rest right on top of your crotch. Your body heats up with excitement, and you turn your head to bury it in the crook of his neck, placing a small kiss there.

“If you can actually take my mind off work, I will owe you forever.”

“Hmm... Do I have your consent?”

You look at his face with glassy eyes, “Yes, I trust you, Felix.”

He smirks, “Here’s what I want you to do, I want to sit up on the ledge right here.”

Curious of what he has in mind, you oblige, your brain too foggy with lust to overthink it. He helps lift you up to the edge, making sure you’re comfortable. The steam rising from the tub helps keep you warm.

He stands back and gently spreads your legs apart, the fabric of your bikini clinging to your folds, perfectly outlining your pussy.

“Wow,” he mumbles, his eyes now dark with want. He lowers his face to be eye level with your pussy, you can feel his warm breath on it.

“Y/N, are you ready to relax?”

“Felix, if you’re going to eat me out, I have to be honest, no guy has ever made me cum from oral.”

He chuckles “As cheesy as it sounds, I promise I’m not like the other guys, give me a chance please.”

“Please prove me wrong.”

And with those words, he starts to go to work. He starts by placing kisses on your clothed slit, the warmth from his mouth lingers every time he pulls away. You lean back on the ledge, eyes closed as you focus on all the sensations. He pulls your bikini bottoms to the side, giving you a long lick against your folds. He places more kisses on you, teasing you with slow delicate motions.

You’re quick to be desperate for more, you put your hands in his hair and pull him closer to your core.

“So needy already...” He tsks. “Why don’t you take your bottoms off for me so I can properly touch you.”

You nearly jump out of your bottoms, not wanting to waste any time with his mouth not on your pussy.

He readjusts himself, placing kisses on your inner thigh before stopping right at your entrance, “Is this what you want? Do you want me to kiss right here?”

“Please Felix,” you beg, pulling his head towards you.

“Whatever you want baby girl.”

He kisses your slit before attaching his mouth to your clit and gently sucking on it. You throw your head back in pleasure, his mouth finally reliving the pressure that’s been building up down there.

He continues to suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly getting more aggressive with his technique. He then slides a finger into your pussy, your warm walls immediately sucking him in. You’re so slick with arousal that his finger slides in and out with ease, you can hear the wet sound of your pussy over his slurping.

“Oh so good Lixie, don’t ever stop...” you moan out. He adds a second finger into you, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. He has everything down to a perfect science, the timing of his fingers with the timing of his tongue over your clit is impeccable.

He starts to slow down his thrusts with his fingers, you groan as he pulls them out of you, disliking the empty feeling. He removes his mouth from you so he can lick his fingers clean.

“You taste so fucking amazing Y/N, I need more.”

He drives right back in, eating you out like his life depends on it.

Your hands pull his hair and your thighs tighten around his head. The amount of pleasure he receives from your thighs nearly suffocating him is unimaginable. You use the grip you have in his hair to pull his face even closer to your body, his nose pressing up against your clit. You grind against his face as he licks and sucks on you. He lets out deep moans as you practically ride his face, sending vibrations straight to your core.

“Lixie... I think I might actually cum,” you pant out, sweat covering your brow.

He only responds by moaning back into your pussy, his hands gripping your thighs hard.

You can feel it, that precious build-up within your lower half, you can feel your high almost there. You’re so damn close.

He puts his two fingers back in, the feeling of fullness is what brings you to your high. You twist and pull at his locks as your eyes squeeze tight. Your whole body shakes with pleasure and your thighs wrap even harder around his head. You feel like your breath is being squeezed from your lungs as you moan out, welcoming the best orgasm of your whole life. Felix never stops for a second, determined to help you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible. Your arousal runs down his face, coating his chin, he struggles to keep up with all the juices flowing out of you.

Once he feels the grip on his hair loosen and your thighs relax he starts to let up.

“Felix... I’m too sensitive...”

“Just 30 more seconds, you taste too good for me to let anything go to waste.”

He cleans you up with his tongue, and his hands rub your thighs as they shake from the sensitivity. He pulls away finally and you can see his face once again. His lips are puffy and covered with your wetness. You pull him out of the water to kiss his lips, enjoying the lingering taste of your pussy.

“I’m sorry I doubted you Felix, that was honestly the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

His smile takes up half his face hearing that, “Come on Y/N I think you’re exaggerating.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand before carefully helping you put your bikini bottoms back on. He grabs your waist and pulls you back down into the water with him. The warmth of the water along with your orgasm has you feeling weightless, Felix holds you up against his chest as you let your feet float up.

“How are you feeling Y/N?”

“There’s not a thing I could care about right now.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Oh but what about you, you didn’t cum.” You start to reach towards the waistband of his shorts but he stops you.

“Don’t worry about me, tonight is about you. Anyways, you said if I made you relax you would owe me forever. So... did I make you relax?”

You place a playful kiss on his cheek, “How about you meet me back here tomorrow at the same time and I’ll make it up to you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

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lostloveletters · 10 months ago

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Give Me Shelter, The Night Is Dark (Vampire!Michael Corleone x Reader)

Summary: Local superstition and a reclusive man offer you refuge when your parents grievously misstep in Sicily, putting your life in danger in more ways than one.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This incredibly self-indulgent gothic romance-esque idea came to me while I was half-asleep, and the time period is intentionally vague, but it’s not a modern setting (here's a little aesthetic tag for this fic). Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Major canon divergence. Canon-typical violence. Emotional manipulation. Vampirism, including non-consensual blood drinking and compulsion (in the context of it being an ability vampires possess and can use on humans). Sexually explicit content involving elements of bloodplay. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

You couldn’t remember what had brought your family to the village of Corleone, only that your father had promised you and your mother an extravagant Sicilian vacation. Three days of beachside paradise in Mondello, eating fresh seafood cooked to perfection and entertaining the antics of handsome men with scars that stood out like bolts of lightning against their tanned skin were hardly enough to sate your voracious appetite for the weeks of bliss you were promised.

Despite your attempts at bargaining to stay in Palermo on your own, your mother refused, insisting she’d be better off throwing you into shark-infested waters than alone with the men who came calling to your hotel. Some days of travel through the breathtaking Sicilian countryside later, you and your parents arrived in Corleone, a village that appeared all but frozen in time, as if decades had passed it by with no one any the wiser.

To your dismay, you found the selection of eligible men to spend your time with far more limited than in Palermo. The working young men were too tired from their labor in the fields or their trades to engage in foolish antics with a vacationing foreigner. The rest were mafiosi, as you gathered from the veiled comments and numerous euphemisms the older villagers used.

These elderly became your companions during your stay in Corleone, talking wildly with their weathered hands over coffee or wine. Filomena, a woman of nearly eighty years and fluent in English, lived in the house next to the one your family was renting. Her husband Gianni only left the house if absolutely necessary, and she considered him a burdensome hermit. Each morning, she fetched you to accompany her into town. Some days, you’d do little else than sit outside of a cafe on the sleepy main street, eating and drinking and gossiping.

Your Sicilian improved immensely in the near month you kept up with their chatter. Those women always had their ears to the ground, as far as knowing more about your father’s business in Corleone than you did. The vacation he promised you was little more than a gesture of confidence toward Don Manusco, a man notoriously difficult to meet directly with. That your father achieved this naturally generated interest in the village, as no one knew of him. When pressed for more information about your own family’s line of work, you answered what you knew, that your father invested, mostly in stocks, but occasionally in new business ventures.

You were privy to little else, much to the disappointment of your companions, who moved onto other topics of discussion. One woman’s son sought work in Milan and within three months of getting hired at a factory, married a Northerner, much to her displeasure. In contrast, Filomena’s daughter was cloistered elsewhere in the countryside, preparing to take her vows and become a nun.

Their superstitions, however, intrigued you most of all. A curse and blessing existed for nearly every conceivable situation. The most striking tale they spun regarded an abandoned villa about a mile past the rental house. Foreboding and hostile, its faded facade peeking out from thorny vines, it was once the envy of the village. At one point in time, though no one could agree quite when, the Don of another family lived there. He took in a strange young man, reclusive yet polite, wandering the countryside with two armed shepherds as bodyguards. He married a local girl, but the marriage ended tragically soon after the wedding. In a sudden blaze of fire and betrayal, she was killed. The strange man vanished not long after, and anyone associated with the villa—including the old Don Tomassino—were soon found dead or had disappeared altogether. Thus, no one dared approach it for fear of the curse surely cast upon the place.

Some of the gruesome murders in the vicinity of the villa could have been attributed to the tradition of violence Don Manusco carried on following Don Tomassino’s death. It didn’t explain the livestock dying of unusual causes, an older woman interjected. Even the land surrounding it was cursed, and the local shepherds knew better than to let their flocks graze nearby, explaining the abnormally tall grass and overgrown foliage that surrounded the villa.

Yet another woman claimed to have seen a demon or ghost in the form of a man wandering the villa’s grounds at night. Of course, she didn’t get close enough to take a good look, instead uttering Hail Marys as she ran into the local church to take refuge until her husband found her some time later.

Your mind drifted to the villa sometimes, this forbidden and mysterious monument to grief and superstition that seemed to cast a longer shadow over the village than the mafiosos who ran it. Like Don Manusco, who your parents were joining for dinner one evening, and Filomena insisted you join her and Gianni instead of eating alone.

The scent of stewing summer tomatoes with garlic and mouth-watering spices invited you inside the house, its windows open for hopes of cool breezes moving through. Gianni offered you wine and a simple antipasto spread of cheese and oranges to snack on while Filomena cooked dinner. Despite his reclusiveness, he somehow knew that your father’s dinner with Don Manusco involved more business than a friendly visit, the final chance for your father to seal what he hoped would be a lucrative deal with the mafia boss.

Two hours later, you sat across from Filomena at the small wooden table in their kitchen, filling your plate with the delicious meal she prepared. You ate silence while Filomena spoke, bickering with Gianni every now and then. As the sun set over Corleone, unease crept over you, though you chose to attribute it to the heat of the day and eating too quickly.

Until a commotion erupted up the street, almost deafening as it approached, finally arriving outside of Filomena’s house. Frantic Sicilian shouting mingled with rapid pounding on the front door startled you into dropping your fork. Filomena and Gianni shared a worried glance before both getting up from the table to answer.

Wailing.

Screaming.

Arguing.

All you found yourself able to do was sit in confused silence. When they returned to the kitchen with a few other locals, panic truly set in.

“You have to leave!” Filomena cried, pulling you out of your seat by your arm.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“Your father’s a fool–”

Gianni shook his head. “A dead fool–”

“Your father should have never brought you here if he were going to try to cheat Don Manusco!” an older woman said.

Another cursed. “Selfish bastard!”

“Go! As far from here as you can!” Filomena implored.

A hard push toward the back door was the extent of the help you’d receive from the villagers of Corleone.

Blood pounded in your ears, your heart beating in time with your feet against the uneven dirt path that nearly tripped you up in your desperate rush to the rental home. You opened the door, scrambling upstairs in a frantic half-crawl to reach your room.

You shoved clothes and essentials into a bag, hardly paying attention to what exactly you were packing, just knowing you couldn’t flee empty-handed and hope to rely on the goodwill of strangers.

In the kitchen, you grabbed what you could from the pantry and shoved everything into a wicker basket. With just that and your suitcase in hand, you clumsily ran across the uneven countryside roads, hoping to find somewhere to take shelter for the night. Every rustle of leaves and animal cry sent chills across your skin. Just when you felt hopeless for a place to hide, you saw the abandoned villa's high walls, overgrown with vines and bramble in the distance. Superstition be damned, it was better than dying at the hands of a mafioso.

The iron gate was closed, but not locked. You held your breath as you opened it, sending out silent thanks to the universe that it didn’t release some otherworldly screech and announce your presence. Hardly visible in the dead of night, the villa peeked out from beneath the plants that had overtaken it. Even from a distance, it appeared as if the building were hollowed out somehow. It remained your best bet.

Superstition offered you refuge, as masculine voices drifted above the villa’s high walls, the structure still sturdy despite the general state of disrepair.

“Should we go in?”

“You sound as much of a fool as that old man. That place is cursed. Even if she were in there, she'd be dead anyway.”

Their heavy, rushed footsteps against the rocky terrain fell silent after a few moments. You sighed in relief, allowing yourself to relax just the slightest bit. Until you glanced back at the villa again, a new sense of dread making your stomach turn at the prospect of having to go inside the place. While you didn’t believe all of the rumors you’d been told over the previous few weeks, being in its presence unsettled you.

Then again, feeling unsettled in an abandoned villa was preferable to whatever would happen if Don Manusco’s men got his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, you approached the shadowy building, hoping your luck wouldn’t run out when you got inside.

To your surprise, the interior wasn’t as poorly maintained as the exterior. The furniture betrayed the wealth of whoever lived there previously, though they’d seen better days. Dark wood scuffed or splintered. Dull fabrics that must have been rich violets or crimson upon their initial purchase.

You walked into the living room, freezing upon seeing lit candles around. Someone was living there after all.

“Hello? Is anyone–” you gasped upon seeing a man standing on the other side of the living room, partially obscured by shadows.

Even in the cover of darkness, his features rendered you speechless as he approached. Handsome seemed too pedestrian of a word to describe him. His raven hair fell across his forehead with a deceptive boyishness. Brown eyes, almost black as the night itself bore into your own. His skin wasn’t nearly as tan as the villagers you’d met, but you supposed someone who lived in such a place was wealthy enough to not have to partake in the grueling manual labor typical of the area, the strong Sicilian sun giving its residents a healthy glow which he lacked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

“The men who were outside before—I think they’re going to kill me,” you said, panic overtaking your senses as his face remained unmoved by your explanation. “Please, I didn’t know anyone lived here.”

“Why do they want to kill you?”

“I think my father tried to cheat Don Manusco. I don’t know all of the details, but if they don’t want to kill me, then they’ll probably—“ Your voice caught in your throat.

“You can stay.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow and find a way to get back to Palermo.”

He shook his head. “You have a vendetta out against you now. Getting back to Palermo so soon will be nearly impossible, especially if Manusco has allies there.” He watched in unreadable silence as hopelessness ate away at your resolve. “You can stay,” he finally repeated. “Don’t leave the villa. Not during the day, and especially not at night. You’ll be safe.”

“Thank you. I owe you my life.” You offered him your name, as a courtesy and as collateral. More valuable than anything else you carried with you, he could use it to betray you for his own gain whenever he wished. You prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Michael Corleone,” he said.

“Like the village.”

He smiled the slightest bit, his dark eyes shining an almost betraying crimson in the moonlight. Ethereal. That was the right word for him. “Yes, like the village.”

Your host led you upstairs, helping you with your meager belongings despite your insistence you could handle your small suitcase and a basket of food, which you left on the console table in the foyer. The villa had certainly seen better days, its plaster walls cracked, crumbling in some places. You would’ve used caution going up the stairs if Michael hadn’t been so confident as he ascended them.

He paused at the top of the stairs, glancing at each of the doors along the hallway. After a few moments, he seemed to settle on one, leading you to a dark bedroom, full of odd shadows that made you pause. It seemed otherwise better taken care of than the rest of the villa you’d seen up to that point.

“It’s just me here. I’m afraid I’m not the best homemaker,” he half-joked in response to your hesitation to enter the room.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s nice. I can’t thank you enough, Michael.”

He nodded. “I have insomnia, so you’ll see more of me at night than during the day. The cellar stays locked, but you can have the run of the place otherwise.”

You bid each other good night.

When he shut the bedroom door behind you, you collapsed onto the bed and cried into your pillow, both from heartbreak and exhaustion, until you fell asleep.

The following morning, you awoke to fresh bug bites on your arm–inflamed and itchy, though perfectly in line with each other, oddly enough. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and you supposed you’d rather deal with mosquito bites than whatever Don Manusco and his soldiers had in mind for you.

True to his word, Michael was nowhere to be found when you went downstairs to eat a breakfast of bread and hard salami. Again, not ideal, but you’d make do with what you brought with you. For the rest of the day, you explored the villa, acquainting yourself with your new albeit temporary home.

You found yourself with little to do to pass the time. Venturing out onto the surrounding grounds of the villa was hardly an option, most of it so overgrown you couldn’t take a proper walk. There were a few books in the house, but often you found your mind drifting to your parents, what their fate looked like and what could await you if Don Manusco found out where you were hiding. By the time you’d finally see Michael around in the evenings, you’d force yourself to stay up as long as you could to be in his company. Soon, your schedule nearly matched his nocturnal one.

Over the following weeks, you got to know Michael. At times, you couldn’t help but stare at him, but sometimes it felt as though you couldn’t do much else if you tried. He was a gracious host for how you imposed on him, showing concern for the bug bites you tried to hide from him. A good thing he noticed, as he brought you a cup of tea, a deep maroon color that he explained was a natural remedy from the village for the discomfort you were experiencing. A common occurrence that you’d been fortunate enough to avoid since arriving in Corleone.

“You’re not from around here either,” you said one night. “I can tell from your accent.”

“I’m from New York, but my father was born here,” he explained. “My last name is a mistake from when he immigrated.”

“Do you miss it?”

He was silent for some time, lost in thought before answering with a soft, “Terribly.”

“But you can’t go back.”

“No, I’m very sick. I wouldn’t survive the trip.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your curiosity getting the better of you when you asked, “What do you have?”

“What I have is incredibly rare, there’s no word for it. Sunlight puts me in excruciating pain, and my appetite is abnormal.”

“How long have you been sick for?”

“Years. More than you’d believe.”

“You know, everyone in the village thinks this place is cursed. If you just talked to them, then they’d understand what was going on and maybe be able to help.”

“I can’t be around people. It’s not safe for them.”

“I don’t understand,” you said. “Are you contagious?”

He hesitated. “Not how you’d think.”

“No matter what you have, it’s not good to be alone,” you argued.

“You’re here now.”

“Only until it’s safe for me to go to Palermo and leave Sicily.”

He shook his head. “You won’t be able to leave. Not when a man like Don Manusco has a vendetta out against you,” he said, his intense gaze boring into you. Your chest grew tighter as he spoke. “This villa is the only place you’ll ever be safe.”

“Michael, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just know what he did to your parents…he and men like him have done to many others on this island, too.” Your silence perturbed him. He grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them gently, though his eyes seemed to blaze with fury. “I’m keeping you safe here, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice nearly catching in your throat.

“Then what’s there to be afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s right, as long as you stay here.”

“I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed dismissively, not bothering to acknowledge your statement. You soon excused yourself to go to sleep, a sudden uneasiness settling in your stomach.

You awoke late into the afternoon the following day, judging by the amber sunlight that streamed through the broken shutters. Still, your limbs felt heavy, and your head pounded as if you’d hardly slept at all. A quick glance at your arm revealed twin bug bites on your wrist again, this time darker than the previous ones, leaving your skin tender to the touch.

Dizziness turned the room over when you sat up from the bed, and you nearly considered going back to sleep, if it weren’t for the hunger that ached in your bones.

You ventured down into the kitchen, relieved to find a pot of tea sitting out. You didn’t even bother reheating it, though the consistency was odd, thicker in its room temperature state. The texture didn’t deter you, as the more you drank, the better you felt, your dizziness and aches gone as the tea overflowed from the corners of your mouth and dripped down your chin, insatiable until there was nothing left. Wiping off your face, you went back up to your room and fell back asleep.

A knock on the door woke you up in the pitch black some hours later. You lit the candle on your bedside table before getting up to answer. You knew it was Michael, concerned about why you hadn’t joined him yet.

Just as you got up to answer, he opened the door, letting himself into your room–except it wasn’t your room. It was his, and you supposed he could enter whenever he wanted.

Frozen in place by his gaze alone, you stood still and silent as he approached, demeanor darker and more intense as his presence filled the room, as if his essence somehow intermixed with each breath you took. A citrusy sweetness with a bloodcurdling undercurrent of violence filled your lungs. Despite this, you felt no fear, but rather anticipation when he finally reached out and caressed your cheek, his hand freezing against your warm skin.

“Michael,” you whispered.

“Don’t fight me, sweetheart.”

And you couldn’t. Not even if you tried. His eyes took in your face with a softness that betrayed his fondness for you. His lips pressed against yours, a chaste kiss to start, but it proved to be insufficient for him, as he claimed your mouth with the fervor of a man long starved for affection. His desire for you tangible as you kissed him back, allowing his hands to roam your body above your nightgown until his fingers brushed your thighs, pushing the hem up to your hips.

He laid you back on the bed, ridding you of your panties and slipping his fingers between your folds. “Tell me how it feels,” he said, his lips against your skin. “Tell me everything.”

Before then, you would have died rather than admit it to him, but at his urging, the dam broke. Of course your thoughts of him weren’t always innocent. Some nights, when you were sure he was elsewhere, you touched yourself to the thought of him. The confession slipped from your mouth so quickly that shame couldn’t catch you, not when Michael pushed his fingers inside you, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, denying you any sensation but absolute pleasure.

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you,” he whispered, pressing desperate kisses into your neck. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me not to–”

Your whine interrupted his train of thought, and a knife-sharp pain jolted through you when he sunk his teeth into your throat, breaking the fragile skin. His fingers curled inside you, a moan clawing its way out of you as you came, ecstasy pulsing through your limbs in waves that threatened to drown you in it. Spots clouded your vision and breath evaded you, the poignant scent of copper mixed with your sex made your head spin.

“Michael, I–” You passed out, though you awoke later, curled up next to him, your body sore and more fatigued than ever. You winced when you tried to move your head, a dull ache coming from your neck. “What did you do?” you mumbled.

“Sweetheart?”

“To my neck.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, petting your hair. “I got carried away. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

“Me either,” you admitted.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. From then on, he was ravenous, and like a woman possessed, you gave in to him every time. Nights with him blurred together as thoughts of escaping Sicily and the danger that waited for you outside of the villa walls were almost nonexistent.

Some time later, though you’d largely stopped keeping track of the days by then, you realized your food supply was running low. Michael would go out at night and get some for you if you asked, though he never revealed where exactly he went. Still unsure of your safety from Don Manusco, you figured the farm up the road would be a good place to swipe some fruit from the orchard and anything else they might have lying around and not exactly miss.

The sun felt especially harsh when you went outside. Each step brought about unimaginable fatigue that made your bones ache. You hardly made it halfway to the farm before you had to rest beneath a large tree’s shade to rest your tired limbs and eyes.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?”

You jolted awake, surrounded by a handful of elderly villagers from around the countryside. You recognized at least one of the older women as one of your old cafe companions in Corleone.

“I’m fine.”

The woman in question squinted at you. “Where do I know you from?”

“We’ve never met before,” you said, voice tight with panic. “I have to go. Goodbye.” You forced yourself up, using what little strength you had to return to the villa, ignoring their calls for you to wait. Exhaustion swept over you by the time you made it inside, promptly collapsing in the foyer. They had recognized you, and surely they had seen you retreat into the villa and were on their way to let Don Manusco know of your whereabouts. They’d be foolish not to with the price on your head.

Michael was nowhere to be found, and you worried that by the time you finally saw him that night, it’d be too late to tell him what transpired. Tears rolled down your cheeks as fear and guilt crept up on you. Your carelessness had put Michael in danger, too.

With no way of knowing how long it’d be until word got back to Manusco, you considered the layout of the villa, which you knew like the back of your hand, and the best place to hide if he or his men intruded in search of you.

In hindsight, the kitchen cupboard was a more obvious choice for a hiding spot, but it was the most your fatigued brain could come up with while you were panicked.

Your instincts had been right, though. The inevitable intrusion did come.

The voices that echoed through the foyer were the same ones from the night you first arrived in the villa. You kept a hand over your mouth, the other with an iron grip around the kitchen knife.

“Come on, Don Manusco isn’t angry with you. He just wants to talk,” one of the men called out.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” the other added. “He knows you didn’t have anything to do with your father’s schemes.”

You couldn’t take a chance on whether or not they were telling the truth.

Footsteps approached, growing louder with each passing second. You readied yourself for attack, until you heard a blood-curdling scream rip through the night and you dropped the knife in shock.

With all of the foolishness of your father, you opened the cupboard door. Blood pooled around the man’s head, a look of terror etched into his face, betraying his final thoughts. Your gaze lifted, and you stumbled backward, unable to comprehend the gruesome sight before you. If you hadn’t been watching Michael with your own eyes, you would have assumed an animal attack was responsible for the carnage at your feet. What more, after the initial shock wore off, an almost physical pull drew you to the spilled blood.

The villagers had been right. It wasn’t mere superstition, but reality, one more horrific than any of them could have fathomed. The unexplained murders, the livestock deaths, all by his hand. His illness a fabrication to conceal the true nature of his being, something unnatural that existed in the worlds between life and death with a hunger to match. He’d been feeding from you for weeks, allowing you to carry on believing lies. Of course you felt awful, constantly fatigued. You could only hazard a guess as to what was really in the tea you’d been drinking like a fiend.

You wished you could scream at yourself for your naivete, as if he’d help you out of the kindness of his heart and not expect something in return. Your willful ignorance of his odd behavior in exchange for refuge in the one place where you’d be safe from who you thought were the only men who wanted to harm you. But he saved you from Don Manusco and his men. He kept you alive. He could gain little from drawing out your death for so long. Unless…your eyes widened, and you looked at him in horror.

Michael spoke your name softly. “Do you understand now?”

“You–You’ve been making me like you.”

“I should have done it sooner. It’s the best way to keep you safe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“I guess not.”

He cupped your face in his hands, “Things won’t be that different. We’ll be together. No one will be able to hurt you.”

“How–How much longer until I’m–”

“As soon as tonight, if you’ll let me.” Sensing your hesitation, he pressed a bloody kiss to your forehead. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the urge to trust him, to commit to an eternity of all-consuming, reclusive violence with him. “I want to be with you. I want to be like you.”

His hands drifted down to your neck, his fingers digging into your pulse as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the half-healed wound he’d inflicted all those nights before. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

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