#did you go Black Friday shopping

[amberraymond]

How was your thanksgiving and did you go Black Friday shopping

[microwavepopcorn]

[gamerwoo]

i thought i’d have today to myself but i was wrong and now im nonverbal at the function :’)

[miaoua3]

Stay The Morning?

Pairing: CEO! scoups x f!reader

Genre: shameless smut (MDNI), one night stand, meet cute, rich ceo x normal girl, morning after, the whole encounter described through flashbacks, mentions of previous cheating

Description: after your previous boyfriend cheated on you, your friends allowed you three weeks of mopping and self loathing before they drag you out of the house and into a bar. little did you know that a certain gentleman will be there and that he will change your world for a night

Note: i went out with my friends, we jokingly went to our local perfume shop, i found cheols perfume (hermes h24), it made me ovulate….bon appetit.

Warning: barely proofread, read at your own risk lmao

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

to say that walking in on your boyfriend and his coworker shagging in your own bed after you’ve decided to come home earlier to surprise him with a warm and delicious cooked meal messed you up a bit was an understatement.

his apologies fell on deaf ears, partly because you didn’t want to hear it and partly because a sudden ringing appeared to be echoing in the shell of your ear.

overcome with rage, you packed all of his stuff in some plastic bags from previous shopping trips, all while he tried to talk to you and explain that ‘it isn’t what it looks like’.

what a bucket full of bullshit.

deciding that 5 bags worth of stuff should last him a few days, you threw them in front of your door before pushing your now ex in the hallway too.

in his boxers only.

but then, your bravery seemed to have disappeared. while your ex was trying to make excuses explain to you the situation, you haven’t let yourself feel a single emotion other than rage and betrayal.

the moment you slammed the door in your ex’s face though, you felt all the emotions suddenly hit you and you crumbled, letting the tears fall down your face.

in these situations, you always find yourself doing the same thing.

and that is call your two best friends.

in the matter of minutes they were in front of your door, with all the necessities like ice cream and tissues.

and they comforted you. for the whole nights.

and the rest of the week.

and the week following that one.

and then third week week too.

well, at least, until friday evening.

at 6pm sharp, your friend, sana, unlocked the door and kicked them with her foot, your other friend jihyo not far behind her.

only to find you on your couch, watching tv with dead eyes, a bucket of ice cream on your lap (now mostly in a watery consistency).

at the sudden outburst, you looked at the direction of your front door with shocked eyes.

sana, having had enough of your bullshit, marched up to you and pulled you up by your arm, “okay that’s it, go take a shower, we’re going out, i have had it with your bullshit. god, you stink, when was the last time you at least put on deodorant, bro? disgusting.”

you, still being in shock, had little space to let out a complaint at her rambling, until she basically pushed you in the bathroom, making you trip over your own feet, before she closed the bathroom door in your face.

after a second, she yelled “oh and shave your legs and everything else, we are getting you laid tonight!”

by the tone of her voice, you knew that you had no choice but to do as she told you. knowing her, she would make the heavens move just to have her way.

an hour later, you were dressed in a little tight cherry red dress, your makeup done by your two friends, hair perfectly done, a black leather jacket resting on your shoulders, your arms intertwined with the arms of your friends, pulling you out of your apartment and down the stairs.

something in your stomach was telling you that that night wouldn’t go as your friend had imagined it. realising this, you raised your concerns.

“guys, while i really do appreciate this, and im sure we will have so much fun, i don’t think i will be sleeping with anyone tonight. it just feels too soon and im not sure if it would be a good idea for me to do that.”

sana scoffs and replies “girl please, your heart is in your vagina, and currently it is broken thanks to the dumbass that you decided to date even when I specifically told you not to, it just needs to be a big dick that will sprinkle some of its fairy dust on it and it will be as good as new-“, she tried to continue, but jihyo decided to interrupt her by letting go of your arm and using the same hand to reach behind your back and smack sana across the back of her head, full force, making her head fly down.

“stop spewing nonsense, even if we wanted to we can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. plus, if she thinks it wouldn’t be a good idea then it probably isn’t, just because it would work for you doesn’t mean it would work for her.”, jihyo defends you as she intertwines your arms again and rubs the back of your hand with her other hand.

sana just mumbles “we will see about that” in response.

after a few minutes, you reach the bar that you visit semi-regularly aka whenever the stars align and all three of you happen to have a free day on the same day.

sitting at your usual place at the bar, sana orders for all of you before you can even try to protest about how you weren’t in a mood for heavy drinks.

as jihyo and sana are talking between themselves, you look around the bar, just to people watch for a bit, see everyone that is mingling in this bar.

and then you see him.

at the other end of the bar, there sat a man so beautiful it made all of those butterflies you felt on the way to the bar roar together into a chaos.

oh.

he’s so beautiful is the only thought that could cross your mind as you observed him. short black hair neatly styled in a way that it compliments all of his features, dark and thick eyebrows pulling your attention, big and plump lips set in a gentle smile. letting your eyes travel, they end up on his arms, observing how tight the black button up looks on him due to his buff physique. your wandering eyes come to his hands that are resting on the top of the counter, one crossed while the other is playing with the glass filled with dark liquor.

seeming that you have zero self control left, you let your eyes wander back up to his face, to admire the face that you could only describe as if it were sculpted by the gods themselves.

only to find his dark eyes already watching you.

quicker than a thunder, you turn your head towards your two friends again, feeling how hot your face feels due to being caught by the perfect stranger.

you try to go back to the conversation that your friends are having, as a distraction from the most perfect man that you have ever seen in your entire life.

what you fail to notice is that the stranger’s eyes stay on you, caressing your figure with his hot gaze, stopping every few seconds on one of your features, as a way to take not of every little detail and memorise it.

after half an hour, you finish your first drink (that tasted only mildly disgusting due to amount of alcohol it had in it). but it seems that with every sip you took, your self control would lessen and your eyes would stray in the direction of mr.perfect (as you started calling him in your head).

only to snap your head right back because he would already be looking at you, gentle smile playing on the edge of his lips.

the entire time you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, excitement and nervousness. to be completely honest, you forgot how it felt to be excited to have got somebody’s whole attention on you, and to have your own attention solely focused on them.

all the butterflies you felt as you were walking to the bar seem to only duplicate with every little exchange of glances between you and mr.perfect.

just as you raised your hand to get the bartender’s attention, a deep “um, excuse me?” came from your right, making you pause your action to turn your head.

and your breath catches in your throat.

because one and only mr.perfect was standing right there, towering over you due to you sitting and him being so very tall, clad in all black, the sleeves of his black button up rolled up to his elbows, the first few buttons undone, giving you a peak to his strong and defined collarbones, a gentle smile teasing the edges of his mouth.

and his gaze.

oh his gaze was burning you from the intensity of it, making goosebumps arise on your skin.

seeing that he got your attention, he continues with a boyish smile “i was just wondering if i could buy you your next drink? it’s just that- i saw you across the room and i thought that you were absolutely beautiful, and my mom taught me that beautiful women should never pay for their own drinks a-and im rambling aren’t i?”, he finishes with a low chuckle, shyly rubbing the back of his neck.

looking at him, it would seem that a cat got ahold of your tongue because you proceed to just stare at him, both of you waiting for you to say anything.

luckily, jihyo comes to your rescue, behind your shoulder smiles at the stranger and says “she would love to!”

breaking out of the trance, you look at her shortly to see her nodding her head encouragingly, before looking at the stranger again with a blushing face “um, yes, i’d really like that”.

he smiles at you, before calling the bartender over. you tell him your order before he directly gets to work.

as your drink is being made, the stranger smiles at you and puts out his hand for a handshake (his beautifully big, veiny and manly hand, adorned by a ring on his middle finger and an expensive watch on his writs) “my name is choi seungcheol, may i ask for yours?”

blushingly, you put your hand in his and introduce yourself. making some small talk, you learn that he is currently 29 years old, and that he’s here with some friends for a friend’s birthday.

just as you were about to ask him what he does for a living, your drink gets put in front of you, breaking the flow of the conversation.

seungcheol, seeing that the only reason why approached you is done, gets up from his sit next to you, “well, your drink is here, i’ll leave you ladies alone now, thank you for allowing me to pay for your drink, enjoy the rest of your night”. he smiles gently before he starts to go back to his friends.

you weren’t lying that alcohol messed with your self control, because in the time it took him to make three steps, you were up and out of your seat, way too loudly than necessary saying “um-!”.

hearing you behind him, he turns around and to see your flustered face, questionably looking at you.

seeing that the cat is already out of the bag and that you already embarrassed yourself as it is, you continue “y-you know, you could buy me the next drink too? o-or, well, you could just- you could offer me a longer conversation instead? um, actually, i-i’d prefer that to a drink.”, you finish with almost to none dignity left, your entire face burning from embarrassment.

seungcheol, in return just smiles.

and the butterflies go wild again.

oh, no.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

waking up, you notice that your room is suspiciously bright. like, way too bright for it to be your room.

the thought makes you jump and sit up automatically, only to notice the lack of the clothes on your body, making you pull the duvet over your chest.

looking around the room, you realise that you were in somebody else’s bed.

and looking to your right, you get the answer as to whose room it is.

seungcheol is sound asleep next to you, shirtless, laying on his stomach with his face turned towards you, his lips set in a cute little pout, his back muscles moving and flexing with every exhale that escapes his mouth.

and his back. oh. my. god.

there were nail scratches all over his back, making it look as if a wild cat had attacked him. but it wasn’t a cat that attacked him, was it now? no it was your doing.

looking around the room, you realise just how much more spacious it looks in the daylight. actually, everything about his condo is big and spacious (as well as everything about him-).

noting every little detail around the room and thinking about how much everything must’ve cost. but it probably didn’t make that much of a difference to him. no.

because choi seungcheol wasn’t just anybody.

he was a ceo of…some company whose name you can’t remember because you were…occupied with something else when he was explaining it to you (read: occupied by watching the veins in his forearms move with every move of his arms that he made).

the fact that he hid that from you up until the moment you walked into his condo makes you mentally scoff at your cluelessness, because who else would wear a watch that size if not a ceo of a company?

you were willing to ignore the big watch. you were even willing to ignore the ridiculously expensive-looking audi that he drove you in to his place. even the underground garage that he drove into.

but walking directly out of the lift and into the biggest condo you have ever since with the whole wall being just one giant window? oh, no way in hell were you going to let it slide.

turning around to look at him questionably, you feel his hand that’s on your back rub slow circles, and his smile turn into a sheepish one.

“so, just a businessman huh?”, you question his previous answer with a raised brow.

in return he chuckles, “well, i am a businessman technically, i just never mentioned that i was a ceo of a company”, he answers before he toes off his dress shoes and walks in what you were sure to be a kitchen.

you follow him, slowly observing the ginormous living room that you find yourself into, before stopping in front of the big window. his condo had to be the best in the whole of seoul, because the view that you are looking at right now is enough to leave you breathless. thousands of lights from all across the seoul make it look like the night sky.

after a minute you ask him “why didn’t you tell me what you really do? there wasn’t really a reason to hide something like that so i assume that you had a bigger reason for not telling me.”, you turn your head back to be able to see him clearly.

he stops pouring you two drinks for a moment, looks upwards with furrowed eyebrows for a moment, before looking at you with and with upmost sincerity answers “you just didn’t seem like the type of person who would care about things like that.”, he turns his head back to the glasses in front of him before he continues “plus, i was sitting in front of the most beautiful woman i have ever seen, i much rather talk about you and get to know you than talk about my boring work.”, he chuckles as he finishes his thought.

his answer was so simple, yet it got your breath catching in your throat.

you can’t remember the last time somebody really cared about you and who wanted to get to know you, to learn about all the little things about you.

your gaze finally falls on seungcheol’s back again, and on your artwork.

you feel the heat on your cheeks worsen, the longer you look at the marks on his big and muscular back. the heat to your face isn’t the only thing that looking at his back brings to you, but the memories of last night as well.

although your eyes are focused on the view in front of you, you can feel that seungcheol was walking slowly towards you, until he was standing directly behind you. slowly, you see his hand appear in front of your face, holding a glass of water. carefully, you take it from his hand, saying a quiet “thank you” before taking a little sip of the water.

you gently put the glass on the little table holding a vase to your left, before looking in front of you again.

ever so slowly, you feel him inch closer to you, until your back is brushing his firm chest. his smell has your mind clouded-he smells so good, not too strong like most men do, but just enough to have you taking a deeper whiff of it. such a pleasant smell, it had your eyelids closing in satisfaction on their own.

ever so lightly he places his hand in your hip, his hold on it getting firmer with each slow second. at this simple touch you find yourself gasping lowly, goosebumps raising on the skin of your arms.

you can tell by the precision of his moves and how he takes his time with each action of his what kind of lover he is. the type to make you feel safe and relaxed. the type that would put your pleasure in the first place. the gentle but firm type.

the type to be the best you have ever had.

another step, and his entire front is touching your entire back. there isn’t an inch of you that isn’t touching him. you can feel his breath on the back of your head, and your own coming to a still stand in your throat.

slowly, he moves his head until it’s right there, to your right. he lets his head dip a little lower, so his nose is grazing the skin of your shoulder and ever so lightly, takes a deep breath of your smell.

he inhales deeply, at the end of it a little groan rumbling in his chest. he then lets his instincts take over-slowly, he moves his head so his nose travels across your shoulder, up your neck (where for a few milliseconds you feel his lips brush across your skin too, making you gasp quietly), across your jawline, until his lips are right by your ear.

in what must be the deepest voice you have ever heard from a man, he whispers, “tell me to stop…”, he pauses, letting go of his self control for a moment and letting his lips leave a little kiss on the edge of your jawline, before he continues “…and i will stop”.

gone were all the thoughts from your head, which is probably why you find your head falling back on his shoulder, eyes closing on their own, feeling the lack of the air in your lungs getting to your head, and breathlessly, you say “don’t stop, please”.

which seemed to be enough for him, because in the next second he’s directing your face to his own with two fingers and kissing you like he’s dying, and you are the only antidote that could save him.

his tongue massages your own in such a meticulous manner, that it made a little moan escape you. quickly, you break the kiss for the second it takes you to turn around in his hold, not even realising that he now had both of his arms wrapped around your stomach, and kissing him with what must look like desperation to anybody else.

he sucks on your top lip for a bit, before he deepens your kiss, his hand flying up to hold your jaw in place, slowly turning your head a bit to the side so he can get even deeper.

you seem to be out of your mind, because your hand-all on its own- grabs ahold of his other hand that is resting on your back, and places it on the back of your head.

seeing what you probably must’ve wanted, seungcheol takes a second to push his hand into your hair. and then he pulls on it ever so lightly.

and then you moan loudly in his mouth.

and that seems to do it for him, because he groans deeply at your moan, before he breaks a kiss harshly to grab ahold of your thighs and pick you up as if you weighed nothing.

the action got you gasping, your legs automatically wrapping themselves around his hips. but before you had the time to tell him to put you down and that “you were too heavy”, he’s right back, kissing you like he was starving for it-starving for you.

with ease, he turns around and starts walking down the hall. but since he’s only a man, he gets a bit carried away, having to stop and push you against the wall, his kisses now fast and almost animalistic, travelling from your mouth, across your cheek and down your throat. at one harsher kiss to your skin on the neck, you let out a louder moan, which only fuelled his desire, his kisses getting faster, harsher, his tongue touching your skin with his open mouth kisses, the hold he had on your thighs getting tighter.

you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this wet, this satisfied, this hungry for more from a kiss alone. out of the window went all of your consciousness, your thoughts, the only thing that you knew at that moment were seungcheol and that you wanted him. more than you have ever wanted anything else.

gasping while he continues to attack your neck and collarbones, you moan a simple “more”.

and who was seungcheol to deprive his lady of what she wanted?

taking ahold of his actions, he gets a better grasp on your thighs, before he pushes you two away from the wall. in five big steps, he’s in front of his bedroom door, pushing them opened harshly with his foot, carrying you inside, before letting go of one of your legs to slam the door shut, all while still kissing you.

the thoughts that were playing in your mind like a movie got you slapping your face with both hands, covering your whole face with them.

not being able to sit still anymore, you gut up and out of the bed, quickly picking up a random shirt from the chair that was by the door, and out of the room.

you find yourself a bit lost, before you see the door to your left, on which stoop a sign that said “bathroom”. quickly, you run into the room and close the door behind yourself.

breathing out a sigh of relief, you look around to see just how ridiculously expensive the bathroom must look like.

and without any disappointment, the bathroom looks like it came straight out of somebody’s pinterest board- a big white bathtub to the left, to the right what must be the biggest shower you have ever seen, a toilet to the left in front of you, and a mirror so big there wouldn’t be a wall big enough to hang it in your own apartment. the tiles of the whole bathroom were this nice shade of beige, creating a harmony with the white furniture of the room.

noticing how badly you need to relieve yourself, you do yourself before getting up to wash your hands. as you finish, you look up to see just how bad your makeup must look.

and you gasp. because your whole neck is covered in hickeys, bigger part of them looking like they are connecting, making it look like one giant purple hickey that’s wrapped around your whole neck.

you just stand there for a second, in a loss for words as to how bad it looks. if you saw this sight on anybody else, you would think that they got mauled by a bear or some wild animal of sorts.

looking at the hickeys on your body got you blushing, and even more so as you remember how they came to be.

ever so gently, seungcheol puts you down on his big and fluffy bed. putting you down seemed to be the only thing he was going to do gently, because the very next second he’s basically pouncing on you, the kiss continuing after a brief moment it took him to lay you down. you feel his tongue battle with your own, before he pulls on your bottom lip with his own lips, lightly biting it to tease you just a little bit.

his hands go from resting next to your head to caressing your body, until they reach the hem of your dress. he breaks the kiss apart, starting to ask “can i-“.

but before he can finish the sentence, you are whining in his face, glossy eyes looking up at him “take it off, please, take it off take it off, please please please-“.

your begging seems to make him lose his mind just a bit more. quickly and with no care, as if he’s just as desperate to have this tight dress off of your body, he switches his hold to the straps of your dresss, harshly pulling it down your arms and chest, over your waist and over your hips, before giving it one final pull over your legs and tossing it over his shoulder.

for a moment, he sits on his heels and just observes you. he feels his chest tightening due to lack of oxygen, his heart beating so fast he thinks it could stop any moment.

your curves would get him kneeling in front of you if he wasn’t already doing so. and the little two piece lingerie- god, help him, for he is about to sin, big time.

he wanted to look at this sight for a bit longer, to have it embedded in his mind forever, but it seems that his girl is a bit impatient, because he feels your hand harshly pulling on his shirt and feels himself falling down on you before the sound of your whining even has the time to hit the shell of his ear.

you kiss him desperately, your hands everywhere- in his hair, on the nape of his neck, across his shoulders and scratching on his back.

all while whining and moaning in his mouth.

god help cheol if he wasn’t about to cum just from the pretty sounds you were making for him.

seeing as you weren’t willing to let him go, or stop kissing him for that matter, seungcheol opts to multitask and take his shirt off while still kissing you. the moment its off, your hands seem to have a mind of their own, travelling all over his back and shoulders before straying to his front, your firm touch traveling from his stomach to his chest.

deciding that he can’t wait anymore, he pulls on your underwear harshly, making them fly over his shoulder too, before he lets his lips leave open-mouth kisses over your neck, collarbones, chest, stopping for a bit to give you nipples a little nibble over your lacy bra, over your tummy, on your hip.

before he knows it, he finds himself laying between your legs, looking up at you through his thick eyelashes, his gaze hot enough to burn your skin.

he gently takes your thighs in his hands, before putting them on his shoulders. before he can even utter the words, you nod your head vigorously and enthusiastically, feeling your legs shake slightly at anticipation.

and then his mouth is on you. and you gasp.

he licks one long stripe from your hole to your clit, which he proceeds to suck onto lightly, making your hips buckle. his tongue then starts to lap at it, leaving little kitten licks on your clit.

your hand instinctively fly to his beautiful luscious hair, pulling on it, trying to getting him even closer if possible.

understanding what you want, seungcheol then lowers his mouth a bit, probing and pushing at your hole, twisting his tongue when entering you in ways you couldn’t think were humanly possible, sucking on your entrance every time before his tongue enters you again.

it’s embarrassing to admit, but you can confidently say that you have never been this close to the finish this fast.

which is why you try to pull him away by your hold on his hair. but he ignores your tugging, instead lets one of his hands that’s been holding your thigh travel up and take hold of one of your hands, before intertwining your hands and letting them rest on your hip.

such a simple action but it got your heart feeling so warm, you can for sure say that nobody ever made you feel this way by a simple action such as this one.

feeling your finish approaching quickly, you try to warn him, but he just looks at you with what looked like to be completely black eyes sternly, almost as if he was saying “don’t you dare stop me”.

and who were you to do as much?

suddenly, like a big wave, you feel the euphoria hit you, you back leaving the mattress, the hold you had on his hand and his hair tightening to the point you were sure must’ve hurt him, your thighs locking, squishing his face between them, all while moaning so loudly you were sure his neighbours were about to hate you.

seungcheol just continues to lap at your hole, drinking up every little drop of your cum as if it were nectar, closing his eyes in enjoyment, groaning as he makes sure to drink up everything you were giving him.

after a minute, you start feeling a bit overstimulated, whining in protest, which was seungcheol’s cue to stop. slowly detangling himself from your legs, he slowly climbs back up before he’s kissing you, your own taste greeting you on his tongue.

seungcheol breaks the kiss apart for a moment, his eyes as dark as night as he looks you directly in the eyes, before he asks you.

“are you ready to give me more, pretty girl?”

you again cover your blushing face with your hands, peeking just a bit between your fingers to look at yourself in the mirror.

seungcheol is so perfect, in every way possible, that you weren’t sure that he was real. maybe he was just a speck of your imagination, something you made up in your mind to make yourself feel better about your love life.

your hands slowly slide down your face as the reality of the situation starts to hit you, a sour look overtaking your expression.

seungcheol was so perfect. too perfect for you to have him.

knowing that talking to him again will just add salt to the injury, that it will make you realise just how out of your league he is, you decide that sneaking off would be for the best, for the both of you. after all, this was probably just a one time thing for him.

you bend down to pick up the shirt that you took from his room to put on until you find your dress, when suddenly, you feel a sharp cramp in your thighs, making you gasp.

you knew that you two went quite hard at it last night, but you didn’t think it would make walking hard for you the next day.

shyly, you peek at your thighs to see just how irritated the skin must look like, the recollection of the encounter yet again clouding your mind.

as you kiss, you feel one of his hands reach to the side before you hear him fumble with something, breaking the kiss so you both look at him struggling to find the condom in his nightstand.

after a few seconds he finally pulls out a pack, taking one out of the bunch before he pulls back entirely, sitting on his heels.

carefully he unbuttons his pants, pulling them and his underwear just enough for his cock go be freed. and oh god, if that wasn’t the biggest one you have ever had, he was so big and thick, it made goosebumps appear on your skin in anticipation. he rips the packaging with his teeth, and rolls it on himself, all while he still keeps the eye contact going.

seungcheol then lowers himself back onto you, before he teases your folds with his fingers.

in a raspy voice he says “your pussy got me so drunk that i forgot that i need to prep you before i fuck you”, and then he pushes one of his thick fingers in your hole, your gasp so loud in your own ears that normally it would make you feel embarrassed. he then continues “wouldn’t want to hurt my pretty girl when I’m supposed to be making you feel good, hm?”, he finishes and pushes another finger on the next time he pushes back inside of you.

if you had any mental strength left, you would’ve answered him, but there was literally nothing going on in your head other than how good his fingers felt, massaging your walls, scissoring you,his tumb gently massaging your clit in slow circles, pushing and pulling his fingers in a slow but steady pace, ever so often the til of his fingers grazing your g spot, making you moan in his face.

he fingers you as if he had tons of experience with your body, like he already knew how you liked it. and he does it all while looking at your face, his forehead slowly coming down to rest on your own.

after what you felt must’ve been hours when in reality it was just a few minutes, he seemed to be satisfied, pulling his fingers out completely.

and then he pushed the very same fingers inside of his mouth, eyebrows furrowing and eyes closing at your taste, humming in satisfaction as he licks his fingers clean.

you feel yourself clench as you watch him suck on his fingers. he looked like a god as he did it- his hair now messy and fluffy thanks to you, his expression looks like he’s having the best meal of his life, his tan skin glistening with sweat, his naked chest raising as he breathes in and out.

he looked so divine, it made you go just a little bit insane. just a bit.

he opens his dark eyes again, his face turning somewhat serious. seungcheol then slowly lowers himself down again, caging your head with his forearms that come to rest next to your head, making your entire focus shift to his eyes.

without much thought, you wrap your arms around his back, your legs locking themselves around his hips.

in the corner of your eye you see him his hand disappearing down, before you feel his cock teasing your folds, his head catching on your clit when he goes to pull it down back your folds. you gasp at this action, you eyes wanting to close themselves all on their own but your mind makes them stay open as you don’t want to miss a single thing.

his free hand comes to your face, pushing your hair back a little bit, before his tumb comes to wipe your bottom lip, your lips falling open on their own.

seungcheol caresses your cheek with the same tumb, and with gentle eyes and voice asks “ready?”.

to which you only nod your head slightly.

he smiles slightly before he lightly pinches your cheek “use your words, baby. i need to know you are 100% sure about this.”

a whispered ‘yes’ falls out of your mouth, your eyes in a trance with his own, the only things you are able to focus on are those chocolate orbs of his.

and then he’s pushing inside of you.

you both gasp at the burn, having difficulties fitting him inside of your tight hole.

his gasp turns into a rough growl, deeply saying “fuck, so tight, baby, you need to relax for me, otherwise i could hurt you”.

you try to listen to him, taking a deep breath in and out. kind of at the same time you both look down between yourselves.

only to see that he has only pushed his tip inside of you.

dear lord, may he help you survive this night.

as a minute passes by, you feel yourself slowly relax, seungcheol pushes himself a little bit more every few seconds until he’s completely bottoms out, his hips now touching yours.

he gives you a minute to relax, his hand gently rubbing your cheek, eyes lovingly looking at you.

as you give him a slight nod with your head, he slowly pulls out, before pushing back. he sets a slow pace for the start, carefully looking at your face for signs of discomfort, making your heart clench at his little signs of affection.

the pace continues for a few minutes, the thickness of his cock and how it massages your insides making you moan and him groan.

feeling like its not enough, you whine a little ‘more’ to him.

which was either the biggest mistake or the best decision of your life.

he quickens the movement of his hips slightly, the slapping of skin against skin now being added to the harmony that your moans and his groans were making.

his breath starts coming out heavier, the air that leaves his mouth lightly hitting your face as he’s fucking you.

you whine every time he pulls his hips back and moan every time he pushes them back, his cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

but it seems like you are so desperate for more, so insatiable, that you pull him closer to you with your hold around his shoulders, his face falling in the curve where your neck meets your shoulders, your own doing the very same, whining “more, please, give me more, i want more, please please please-“ directly in his ear, your eyes closing in pleasure.

seungcheol stops for second, making you whine in disappointment, takes ahold of your thighs to hitch your legs higher on his hips.

and then he doubles the speed of his hips.

he sets an insane pace, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs, groans and deep moans falling out of his mouth. his dick feels so big, his head repeatedly hitting your spot, making your moans border on screams.

you can’t remember the last time you got fucked this good, and you were sure this will stay in your memory forever.

seungcheol continues with his merciless pace, your muscles clenching around him which in return makes him make more of those beautiful noises.

“you like that, baby? fuck, the noises you make- you are driving me insane. your pussy feels so tight- fuck, i can barely fit. and it’s so wet i- jesus. is this all for me? hm? so wet, just for me baby? fuck, i could fuck you for the rest of my life, never want to stop, want my dick inside of you all the time. you’d like that, wouldn’t you pretty girl? fuck- such a good girl-“

he continues to praise you and talk about you good you feel, how you are being such a good girl for him, and normally you would answer.

(un)fortunately, you have zero thoughts going on in your mind, only able to moan in his ear while he kisses and bites your shoulder, neck and collarbones, the sting barely noticeable in comparison to the slapping of the skin you feel on the back of your thighs. with extra effort, you successfully say through a moan “more, please, gimme more”.

seungcheol growls at this, before he pulls out completely out of you. he then harshly pulls you by your thighs and turns you over, pulling your hips up before you even have the time to let out a gasp. your chest that are now lacking all the air are touching the mattress while your ass is in the air, fully exposed to seungcheol’s eyes.

without any warning he slaps your right ass cheek, something between a scream and a moan flying out of your mouth. not giving you any time to even process the action, he’s already pushing his cock back inside of you, the new angle making the stretch feel even more delicious.

“fuck, my girl is so desperate huh? so desperate for this cock, moaning so prettily for me. fuck, you are going to be the death of me, you and this pussy”.

he basically lays himself on top of you, covering your whole body with his own, his firm chest pressed in your back, before he resumes his quick pace.

seungcheol pounds into you, so much so that you feel your pussy burn from the force of his hips that are slapping against it.

he continues to praise you but unfortunately you don’t hear anything anymore, only things that you can focus on is the delicious stretch of his dick and how it’s repeatedly hitting your g spot.

feeling your finish approaching quicker than expected, you moan out “im coming im coming im comi-“.

seeing that he is in the same boat, seungcheol groans in your ear, his hand quickly finding your own and intertwining your hands. squeezing your hands tightly, he growls in your ear “cum. cum for me pretty girl, fuck- make a mess on this dick”.

he uses his free hand to find your clit and rub it quickly.

and then you are screaming in pleasure. you feel your walls squeezing him harder than ever, milking him dry, which triggers his own release, a deep moan rumbling in his chest against your own back.

he fucks your slowly through both of your orgasms, your mind so cloudy that you don’t even feel the bite on your shoulder that he had to do in order to quiet down his own moans.

after a minute you feel your thighs shake slightly from overstimulation, lightly tapping him on his arm to stop, and he does. he stays inside as he uses his hand to slightly rub the side of your thigh in comfort.

as you try to regain your breath, you feel seungcheol kiss your cheek lightly like a feather, before he asks.

“ready to give me one more, baby?”

your cheeks burn as your thoughts take over your mind again. quickly shaking them off, you pull on the shirt over your head before leaving the bathroom.

as quietly as possible, you enter seungcheol’s room to find him still sleeping on his stomach, his back turned to you. sighing in relief, you make a quick search for your things.

as you pull on your dress from last night, you grimace at the fact that you will have to wear the same pair of panties from last night.

as you make sure that you have all of your things, you slowly head for the doors.

until a voice behind you stops you.

“leaving already?”.

you stop in your tracks before slowly turning around to see seungcheol looking at you through puffy eyes.

“yknow, if you wanted to leave in the morning, you could’ve just told me that last night, i would’ve prepared a car to drive you back, but i was under the impression that you were going to stay and have a breakfast with me”, he finishes as he lightly rubs his face.

you quickly look down, embarrassment and guilt washing over your face. you did want to stay, you wanted to stay for as long as he would let you, but you weren’t sure if that would be okay for him, or if you even deserved it.

seeing the expression on your face, seungcheol then asks, barely above the whisper, pleading looking at you.

“stay? please?”.

you quickly look up to see his gentle eyes, before you answer unsurely.

“would that really be okay with you? it’s just- i wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be a one time thing only or-or maybe- well, something more, so uh, i thought it be better to just leave a-and i-“

as you ramble, seungcheol feels his lips betray him as a small smile slowly gets bigger and bigger the longer you talk. deciding to make this easier for the both of you, he interrupts you.

“baby?”

you look at him with red cheeks, all and every thought you had evaporating from your mind.

seeing that he got your attention, he continues.

“take that dress off and get back in here, i want cuddles…and maybe something more.”

and who were you to deny him anything?

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place. 

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange. 

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown. 

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter. 

Or, at least, none that mattered. 

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do. 

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play. 

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift. 

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether. 

And Peter never even asked why. 

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?” 

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.” 

And how true that must have been. 

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too. 

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night? 

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.” 

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?! 

 “Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?” 

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.” 

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter. 

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?  

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.” 

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.” 

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter. 

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.” 

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used. 

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar. 

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite. 

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.” 

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now. 

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?” 

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.” 

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too. 

“Did he?” 

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.” 

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's. 

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him. 

“Well did he have anything useful?” 

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter. 

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups. 

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0. 

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration. 

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear. 

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?” 

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation. 

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.” 

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite. 

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?” 

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.” 

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?” 

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch. 

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?” 

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him. 

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.” 

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.” 

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.” 

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth. 

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.” 

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?” 

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?” 

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.” 

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.” 

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now! 

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?” 

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-” 

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!” 

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.” 

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief. 

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded. 

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere. 

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now. 

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down… 

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.” 

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell. 

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered. 

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night? 

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.” 

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips. 

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world. 

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all. 

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone. 

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting. 

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway. 

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!” 

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!” 

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else. 

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?” 

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?” 

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.” 

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse. 

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully. 

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter. 

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!” 

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.” 

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?” 

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task. 

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway. 

“Mj happened.” 

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?” 

“Yep. That’s the one.” 

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.” 

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.” 

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease. 

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth. 

You sucked in a breath. 

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.” 

His brow snapped up. “What changed?” 

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours. 

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth. 

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.” 

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?” 

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance. 

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.” 

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-” 

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.” 

“I’m not pretending-” 

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.” 

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.” 

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest. 

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.” 

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?” 

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th

[buckets-and-trees]

Mob Bucky respects your own financial independence, but he also made sure you have access to his black card and use it when you need it. He doesn't care what you spend the money on, especially since the notification he gets those very rare times that you use his money is to buy something most practical or for your shared apartment.

However, he does not expect to see a notification for the purchase of some sex toys 😏

CHOCOLATE

Collection: DEVOUR Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!James Buchanan Barnes x Female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Timeline: Takes place 1-2 weeks after mint, 2-3 weeks after heat.

Content & Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT - vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, creampie, food play, breeding kink. Feelings, so many feelings.

Author Notes: Surprise! At some points during the 2200 Followers Celebration poll, Devour Bucky and Chef were actually winning, so here's something I started months and months ago and brought out to finish for them. It's not quite everything from your ask, Eva, but I hope it's a satisfying scenario all the same...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You had known the exact moment your fiancé – mob boss, venture capitalist, or philanthropist depending on who you asked and what they knew – got the notification of your purchase.

James Buchanan Barnes had given you a black card weeks ago, before the engagement, but you hadn’t used it until this week. Bucky had gone to Chicago for business (and you were sure he was there for business as well), and instead of staying home and pining away for him, you decided to treat yourself. The notification must have pinged his phone during a meeting, because exactly 47 minutes later, your own phone lit up with his name.

"What's this Cartier expense I see?" his voice a dangerous mix of amusement and curiosity.

You swallowed hard, fingering the velvet box in your lap. "Just a little shopping therapy while you're away. Nothing to worry about."

"Mmm," he hummed, unconvinced. "And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to shower you with gifts."

"Well," you said, "maybe I wanted to surprise you for once."

There was a pause, and you could almost see him leaning back in his chair, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "I suppose I am a little surprised you finally used the card. But how about a challenge?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you see if you can shock me with a purchase?”

“Challenge accepted. What do I get?”

He chuckled. “You already know I’ll give you the world.”

Butterflies surged in your stomach. This man.

“You’re back Saturday afternoon?” you confirmed.

“Yes,” he growled. “There’s a round of golf I can’t seem to move or negotiate.”

You sighed softly. “It’s only three more days.”

“I like that you miss me.”

You huffed but couldn’t deny it.

“I’m missing you, too,” he said.

“James…” you breathed.

“Did you get the gift I sent?”

“I did.” A stunning, six-foot mirror with an ornate, gold-gilded frame had been delivered that morning to your apartment and placed in your bedroom.

“I was taken with how beautiful it was and you were my first thought.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too. I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

When you woke up Friday morning, you knew exactly how to shock him with the black card.

Or at least tease him.

The high-end, ridiculously expensive lingerie boutique you never thought you would enter in your lifetime - Boudoir.

The response to that expense notification was immediate, and you smirked when you read the text that came through.

JAMES: You have my interest piqued.

You thought for a moment, then typed out a reply.

YOU: Thought maybe I’d see if I can shock you and send some photos of what I got later tonight.

Three dots appeared straight away, and then

JAMES: Forget photos, I’ll fly out tonight straight away after my meeting with Levinson and come straight to you.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart swelling with adoration, anticipation, and maybe just a touch of nerves. You looked up the latest flights out of Chicago, and couldn’t help feeling a little forlorn. Even though the restaurant head chef life meant late nights for work, it would still be an ungodly hour when he landed.

YOU: I’ll try to stay up, but promise to wake me up if I’m asleep?

Again, you didn't have to wait long for his reply.

JAMES: I promise. Nothing could keep me from you tonight.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. You glanced at the clock - it was barely noon. The hours until his arrival stretched before you, filled with anticipation and nervous energy. You busied yourself with things before work, trying to focus on anything other than the ticking clock and the bag from Boudoir sitting in your closet.

At Devour your mind was engaged fully in your craft and working with your team.

But once you returned home after the Friday night dinner service, you found yourself pacing the apartment, unable to settle. Should you put on the lingerie now? Wait until you heard from him? You compromised by showering and doing your hair and makeup, then slipping into a silky robe.

Just as you were debating whether to pour yourself a glass of wine to calm your nerves, your phone pinged.

JAMES: Landed. On my way to you.

Far earlier than you expected him, but a good thing, too.

Your heart raced as you read his message. You quickly made your way to the bedroom, retrieving the Boudoir bag from the closet with trembling hands. The delicate lace and silk felt cool against your skin as you slipped into the lingerie, adjusting the straps and garters with care. You stood before the new mirror James had sent, admiring how the deep, rich color complemented your skin tone. The set hugged your curves in all the right places. Standing before the mirror James had gifted you, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence.

A text alert broke your reverie.

JAMES: Five minutes.

You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the silky fabric once more before draping the robe back over your shoulders. You dimmed the lights in the bedroom and lit a few candles, creating a soft, inviting ambiance.

The sound of a key in the lock made your pulse quicken. You perched on the edge of the bed, listening as Bucky’s footsteps approached.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and he stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His gaze was intense, a mix of hunger and adoration that made your breath catch in your throat. Would you ever get used to the way he looked at you?

"Well," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "this is certainly a welcome home."

You stood, your fingers toying with the tie of your robe. "I thought you might appreciate a little preview of my shopping spree."

He set a golden box on your dresser and then moved closer, his steps deliberate and predatory. He reached out, running his fingers along the edge of your robe. "May I?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he slowly undid the tie and pushed the silky fabric off your shoulders. The robe pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in the exquisite lingerie.

Bucky inhaled sharply, his eyes roaming over every inch of you. "Beautiful.” His hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Show me how much you missed me," he growled.

You leaned into him, tilting your head up to meet his intense gaze. "I thought you were going to show me how much you missed me," you teased, running your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, I intend to," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "But first, I want to savor this moment. You've outdone yourself."

His hands roamed over the delicate lace and silk, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your breath hitch. You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the barely contained power in his muscles as he held you close.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here until much, much later,” you said, breathing in the scent of him, cologne mingled with his natural musk. “The flights I saw had landings after midnight.”

He snorted. “My private jet provides service according to my schedule, not anyone else’s.”

“Oh,” was your soft and surprised reaction, realizing you should not be at all surprised to learn he owned a private jet.

"Turn around, love," he commanded softly. "Let me see all of you."

You complied, slowly spinning to face the mirror. He stood behind you, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. His hands skimmed down your sides, fingertips tracing the lace edges of your lingerie. You shivered at his touch, watching as his expression darkened with desire.

"Do you see how stunning you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How every curve, every line of your body is a work of art?"

You leaned back against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him. "I see how you look at me," you whispered. "That's what makes me feel beautiful."

You watched in the mirror as his lips trailed up your neck, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin. Your breath quickened as one of his hands splayed across your stomach, pulling you back against him.

He growled low in his throat, his arms tightening around you. "You still have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice rough with need. His fingers traced the edge of the lace at your hip.

You turned in his arms, reaching up to cup his face. "Then show me," you challenged, your eyes locked on his.

Impossibly, his eyes darkened even more at your words, a predatory smile curving his lips. In one fluid motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss as he carried you to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness.

"You want me to show you?" he growled, hovering over you. His fingers traced the delicate straps of your lingerie, sending shivers across your skin. "I'll show you exactly what you do to me."

He began a torturous exploration of your body, his lips and hands mapping every inch of you. The exquisite lingerie became both a barrier and a tantalizing tease as Bucky lavished attention on the exposed skin while skimming over the lace and silk. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"James," you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair. "Please…"

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love. I've been dreaming of you all week."

His talented fingers deftly unclasped the delicate hooks of your bra, slowly peeling the lace away to reveal your skin beneath. You gasped as the cool air hit your heated flesh, arching into his touch as he palmed your breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his head to trail kisses along your collarbone. "So fucking beautiful."

You tugged at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Too many clothes," you panted, fumbling with the buttons.

Bucky chuckled, sitting back on his heels to shrug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted torso as more of his skin was revealed. The dim candlelight cast shadows that accentuated every plane and angle of his muscular form.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Always," you breathed, reaching up to run your hands over his chest and shoulders.

He caught your wrists gently, pinning them above your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You melted into his kiss, your body arching up to meet his as he pressed you into the mattress. The weight of him, the heat of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. You tugged at his grip on your wrists, desperate to touch him, but he held firm.

"Ah ah," he murmured against your lips. "I'm not done admiring my gift yet."

His free hand skimmed down your side, fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you.

"James, please," you gasped, breaking away from the kiss.

He chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that sent shivers down your spine. "So impatient," he tsked, nipping at your lower lip. "But I suppose I have kept you waiting all week, haven't I?"

In one fluid motion, he released your wrists and moved down your body. His lips and tongue traced a burning path along your skin, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts before continuing lower.

With deft movements, he removed the rest of your lingerie, his eyes dark with hunger as he drank in the sight of you. You reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Bucky chuckled, gently moving your hands aside to finish undressing himself.

Finally skin to skin, you both sighed at the contact. Bucky's weight settled over you, comforting and electrifying all at once. His lips found yours again as he entered you slowly, savoring every inch. You gasped against his mouth, your body arching to take him deeper.

"God, I've missed you," Bucky growled, his forehead pressed against yours as he stilled for a moment.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Show me," you breathed, nails raking down his back.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Bucky began to move, setting a rhythm that had you clinging to him, gasping his name. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there as his hips drove into yours.

You lost yourself in the sensations - the slide of his skin against yours, the delicious friction where your bodies joined, the heat of his breath on your neck. Your hands roamed his broad back, feeling the flex and ripple of his muscles as he moved above you.

"James," you moaned, feeling the familiar tension building low in your belly. "I'm close."

Bucky slowed his movements, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I'm not done with you."

With a low growl, he suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping at the loss. Before you could protest, his strong hands grasped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach.

His palms glided down your sides, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine. You shivered at his touch, anticipation building as he gently urged your hips upward.

"On your knees for me, beautiful," he commanded softly, his palms smoothing over the swell of your backside.

You complied eagerly, pushing yourself up onto all fours. The cool air of the room kissed your heated skin, making you hyper-aware of every sensation. Bucky's hands continued their journey, kneading the flesh of your thighs and hips with intent appreciation.

You felt the bed shift as he positioned himself behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back. His fingers tangled in your hair, gently tugging your head back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke.

"You're a vision like this," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So perfect for me."

You whimpered, pressing back against him, desperate for more contact. Bucky chuckled, the sound vibrating through your body. Slowly, torturously, he dragged the tip of his length along your folds, teasing your clit with the blunt head of his cock.

You gasped at the sensation, your fingers curling into the sheets. "James, please," you whimpered, pushing back against him.

He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "So eager for me," he murmured, positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you breathed, looking back over your shoulder to meet his intense gaze. "I want you, James. Please."

With a low growl, he pushed into you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You both moaned at the sensation, savoring the feeling of being joined once again. Bucky stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against your back as he struggled to maintain control.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. "So tight, so wet, so warm and perfect for me."

He began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each thrust. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, desperate for something to anchor you as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky's hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Look,” he said, and turned your head to take in the sight of you two in the mirror.

You locked your eyes on his through the reflection. “Need you to see how gorgeous you are when you come apart for me.”

You keened for him as he pulled you back on his cock with a particularly demanding thrust.

“When I breed you.”

You gasped.

He groaned and curled his body down over your back.

Because you also clenched powerfully around his cock.

“Mmm, you like that,” he murmured right into your ear, then licked the shell of it. “Want to be bred,” he continued, pace unyielding as he split you open with his cock. “Not as much as I want to fill you up with my seed,” another thrust, “until you’re growing with my child,” another thrust, “no question who you belong to,” thrust, “that you’re claimed,” thrust, “that you’re mine.”

You were utterly breathless for a moment, and he registered that, too, just as he registers every movement, every reaction.

He continued to thrust slowly in and out of your leaking cunt, but he noticed you were no longer fluid and pliant, but that you had tensed up. He stopped. “What’s going on in your beautiful head?”

You bit your lip, and your head dropped down, turning away from his direct gaze in the mirror.

He pulled out and laid on his side next to you.

“Talk to me,” he said, and you weren’t sure if this tone was commanding or pleading, but it was certainly serious.

You sat up, folded your hands in your lap and took a deep breath. As steadily as you could, you said, “You knew my measurements and had sent a perfect wardrobe of intimates to me withing twenty-four hours of our first encounter.”

He nodded, his lips quirking up at the corner.

“So, I assume you also know I have an IUD, and that you that knew before you fucked me in the kitchen that first night at the restaurant.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“I’m nowhere near ready to think about children.”

He leaned up on one elbow and reached for your hands, smoothing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “We have as much time to think about that as you want.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes searched his. You could see he wasn’t merely trying to tell you what you wanted to hear - he never had.  

“I look forward to children with you one day, but I’m in no rush. When I imagined settling down with a wife,” he continued, “I didn’t think it would be for another five or six years, but once I found you, there was no question that I wanted you.”

"I want that future with you too, just... not quite yet."

Bucky sat up, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently as he looked into your eyes. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Sometimes I get carried away in the moment. You inspire that in me. But I never want you to feel uncomfortable or trapped.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your body relaxing as you processed his words. "I'm sorry," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "I didn't mean to kill the mood."

Bucky shook his head, pulling you closer. "Don't apologize. Communication is important, especially about something like this." His fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin.

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth and affection for this man who could be so commanding and intense one moment, and so tender and understanding the next. "I love you," you said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Bucky responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. "I love you too," he murmured. "More than I ever thought possible."

His hands began to roam your body again, easily reigniting the need in both of your for each other.

You broke off the kiss briefly, "Just so we're clearly communicating, breeding kink? Yes. Children yet? No."

"Noted," he laughed, and returned to devouring your lips.

Bucky shifted his position from sitting to kneeling, settling back on his heels, then with one fluid motion he turned you and pulled you into his lap with your thighs falling on either side of his into a wide, kneeling position. He lifted your hips, then lined up his cock with your entrance, and brought you down again on his length. He guided your hips until you were impaled all the way down. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, drawing a low moan from your lips.

He banded his left arm around your torso, and his right hand smoothed up your sternum, between your breasts, coming to rest in a secure hold on your shoulder. You closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but the feel of him inside you, behind you, right at your back, every inch of your bodies pressed together. Your left hand traced over his forearm, then tangled with his fingers around your waist, your other hand moving back to anchor yourself on his hip. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, then began thrusting. Each thrust seemed to push a deep moan out of you for him, and you didn’t hold back.

"Open your eyes," he commanded softly, his breath hot against your ear. "Look at us."

You obeyed, your gaze meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. The sight before you was breathtaking. Bucky sat tall and powerful behind you, his muscular thighs flexed as he supported your weight. Your body was on full display, skin flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. His thick arm across your stomach, holding you close against his chest.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How perfectly you fit with me?"

You watched in the mirror as one of his hands slowly trailed up your body, cupping your breast and teasing the sensitive peak. Your back arched at his touch, pressing you further onto his cock.

Bucky groaned, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. "That's it," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Feel me inside you."

Entranced by his words and the intoxicating view in the mirror, you began to move. You rolled your hips, grinding down onto him in a slow, sensual rhythm. Bucky's hands guided your movements, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helped you ride him.

You watched in fascination as your bodies moved together, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath Bucky's skin and the way your own body responded to his touch. The sight of him disappearing inside you with each downward motion was almost too much to bear.

"James," you gasped, your head falling back onto his shoulder as the pleasure built. "Oh god, James..."

“No,” he growled, and his hand went up to your neck, taking you by the throat, not aggressive, but commanding, making it clear that he wanted you to keep looking in the mirror. “I won’t let you fucking miss this.”

It occurred to you then that this handsome, audacious bastard, the fiancé who you’d given your heart to, knew exactly what he wanted when he sent you this mirror and had it placed in the exact spot in front of you now.

He wanted this.

He wanted to see this and have you see this. The debauchery and the devotion while the two of you were intimate together.

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze pushing you even closer to the brink. You watched as his free hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. The dual stimulation of his cock inside you and his fingers on your most sensitive area becoming more frantic. Bucky's grip on your hips tightened, guiding you into a faster pace.

"That's it, love," he growled, his voice low and husky in your ear. "Let go for me. I want to see you come undone."

His words, combined with the intense sensations and the erotic sight in the mirror, and touch pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky held you tightly against him, his hips still moving as he worked you through your orgasm.

"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. "So fucking beautiful."

As the aftershocks subsided, Bucky gently turned you in his lap so you were facing him. His hands cupped your face, drawing you in for a deep, passionate kiss. You could feel him still hard inside you, and you rocked your hips, drawing a groan from his lips.

"Your turn," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

With a growl, Bucky flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle as he began to thrust into you with renewed vigor.

You gasped at the deeper penetration, your hands clutching at his back as he sunk into you. The room filled with the sounds of your moans, heavy breaths, and the slap of skin on skin.

You reached up, pulling him down for a passionate kiss while he worked up to a relentless pace. He drove into you with powerful thrusts, each one pushing the air from your lungs. Your other leg wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper as you felt another orgasm building.

"James," you panted, your nails raking down his back, "I'm so close again."

He growled, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor. "My good girl, I’ll always give you what you need."

His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your oversensitive clit. The added stimulation was almost too much, pushing you right to the edge. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Bucky's rhythm faltered as your walls clenched around him. With a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his body shuddering as he found his own release. You felt the warmth of his seed spilling inside you, prolonging your own pleasure.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Bucky's weight was comforting on top of you, grounding you as you floated in post-orgasmic bliss. He pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, murmuring words of love and praise against your skin.

Eventually, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your breathing slowly returned to normal. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and feeling utterly content.

"I love you," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

Bucky's hand stroked up and down your back, his touch soothing and gentle. "I love you too," he replied, his voice deep and warm. "More than I thought possible."

You hummed in agreement, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The room was quiet save for the sound of your breathing and the faint flicker of the candles.

After a few moments, Bucky spoke again, his voice soft. "I meant what I said earlier. About children, about our future. We have all the time in the world."

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "I know," you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Thank you for understanding."

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Always. We're partners in this, in everything."

You lay in comfortable silence again for a while, basking in the afterglow and each other's presence. Bucky's fingers idly traced patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"I missed this," you said softly, breaking the silence. "Having you here, holding me." Everything with him was still relatively so new, but it felt like this was exactly how it always should be.

He hummed in agreement, tightening his arms around you. "Me too. Those nights in Chicago felt endless without you."

You tilted your head up to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Well, you're home now. And you brought me another present, didn’t you?”

“Oh, you noticed that golden box I brought in with me, did you?”

“Yes, can I have it, please?” you asked sweetly, your curiosity thrumming more with each second now that you had remembered it.

He chuckled at your eagerness, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reluctantly disentangling himself from your embrace. "Alright, love. Your wish is my command."

You watched appreciatively as he padded across the room, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin. He retrieved the golden box from the dresser and returned to the bed, settling beside you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Close your eyes," he instructed softly, and you complied, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

You heard the rustle of paper and the soft click of a box opening. A moment later, an intoxicating aroma filled the air - rich, complex, with notes of cocoa, vanilla, and something tantalizingly exotic.

"Open," Bucky murmured.

Parting your lips, you allowed him to place a morsel of chocolate in your mouth.

The chocolate melted slowly on your tongue, releasing layers of flavor that made you moan softly in delight. Rich, dark cocoa mingled with hints of caramel and a subtle spiciness that lingered pleasantly. As the last of it dissolved, you opened your eyes to find Bucky watching you intently, his gaze dark with renewed desire.

"Good?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, licking your lips. "Incredible. What is it?"

He smiled, holding up an elegantly crafted golden box. "Amedei Porcelana. Some of the rarest and most expensive chocolate in the world. I had it flown in from Tuscany."

Your eyes widened. "James, that must have cost a fortune."

He shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "What's the point of having money if I can't spoil my beautiful fiancée?" His fingers traced along your jawline. "Besides, watching you enjoy it is worth every penny."

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words and the intensity of his gaze. Bucky leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. The lingering taste of chocolate on your tongue mingled with his unique flavor, creating an intoxicating blend. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. "I think I might enjoy that chocolate even more when I taste it on your lips," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, reaching for the box. "Well, we have plenty more to sample. Maybe we should conduct a thorough taste test?"

Bucky's eyes darkened with desire, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I like the way you think, chef."

He took the box from your hands, selecting another piece of chocolate. This time, instead of feeding it to you, he placed it between his teeth, raising an eyebrow in challenge. You leaned in, capturing the other half of the chocolate with your lips, your mouths meeting in a sweet, decadent kiss.

As the night wore on, you continued your playful exploration, alternating between savoring the exquisite chocolate and indulging in each other. Bucky trailed pieces along your skin, following the path with his lips and tongue. You reciprocated, drawing patterns on his sculpted chest and abs with melted chocolate before licking it clean.

The room filled with soft sighs, quiet laughter, and murmured words of affection as you rediscovered each other's bodies. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over your intertwined forms, creating an intimate cocoon that seemed to exist outside of time.

As dawn approached, you lay tangled together, satiated and drowsy. Bucky's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"I could get used to welcomes like this," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer. "Maybe I should send you away more often if this is how you come back to me."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Don't you dare. I much prefer having you by my side every day."

You smiled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Me too," you admitted softly. "Though I have to say, absence does make the heart grow fonder."

"And apparently inspires some very creative shopping," he teased, his hand skimming down your side to rest on your hip.

You laughed, a warm, carefree sound that filled the room. "Well, I had to make sure you'd remember me while you were away."

"Impossible," Bucky murmured, his voice taking on a more serious tone. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, his touch feather-light but ardent. "You're etched into every part of me now, love."

The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. Even after hours of intimacy, he still had the power to make your heart race with just a look. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of your shared feelings.

As you parted, you noticed the first rays of dawn peeking in through the curtains of your window. You settled your head against his shoulder, and only just registered the press of his lips in a kiss to your forehead before you dropped off to sleep in his arms in the morning light, thoroughly exhausted and thoroughly in love with this man.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest Read more in the DEVOUR collection...

Some of this was content I cut from the final chapter of the original 4-parts of the series (heat) that once I got to the end of that chapter felt like it didn't fit anymore, but it was stuff I couldn't throw away, so I just kept it, knowing it would have a place at some point in their story later, so I'm glad I finally got to share it with you!

[written-in-flowers]

His Goddess: Demon!Yunho x Fem!Reader

Pairing: incubus!yunho x fem!succubus!reader x incubus!hongjoong | side pairings: demonline x reader

Genre: Smut, fluff

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Yunho is a man of strong will and principles. Work comes first. Schedules come first. Yet, when it comes to The Mistress, he is willing to throw it all away to worship and pleasure her.

Tags: demon au, master/slave dynamic, mutual pining, body worship, facesitting, bigdick!yunho, switch!yunho, footjob, voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesome, m/m/f, bisexual sex, lesbian sex, bisexual reader, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m and f. receiving), double penetration, spit fetish, panty fetish, cum swallowing, facial, cream pie, mentions of violence, mentions of human sacrifices, masturbation, mutual masturbation, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, reader is a hoe and so is everyone else.

Previously on Pretty Lady > Next

Pretty Lady Masterlist

***

The key to being a good Head of House is knowing the masters. Yunho knew their daily schedules backwards and forwards. Each of them woke up at the same time, ate at the same time, went to work and came home at the same time. They took tea in the open-air garden on Fridays, went out to dinner on Saturdays, and slept in on Sundays. Yunho never missed a beat. He ran the meal services like clock work, counting down the minutes on his pocket watch. His masters never complained, and everything worked as it should. 

However, it all came to a head when you arrived. At first, you followed the same schedule as your masters. It was easy enough with Yeosang as your chief handler. Yet, one day the masters tell him you’re no longer their plaything. You are Lady YN, Marchioness of the Trees, a Lady of Eden, and Mistress of the Black Keep. This meant another set of likes and dislikes to learn, a schedule to follow, and a person to serve. Yunho expected you to follow a similar regimen as your former masters. 

You didn’t. 

Yunho never knew what you’d do for the day. With no employment, you didn’t need to wake up early. You never knew what you wanted to eat or drink. Wooyoung only made recommendations on your wardrobe, and you did your own hair and makeup. No schedule to maintain, you simply lived off your moods. You might go on a shopping trip, go to the salon to get your nails done, or walk about town with Jongho and Mingi. You may sit in your room all day, dancing or listening to music or read books and fashion magazines. Yunho never knew what to expect, and that annoyed him. 

The only consistent thing he knew was you visited your greenhouse in the mornings, checking on the plants and feeding Octavius. After you saw the masters off to work, you’d go with Jongho to the greenhouse. He’ll admit since you took over, the gardens appeared much more vibrant and lively. Octavius, formerly Dennis, and his offspring wanted for nothing, which kept the damned creature out of his hair. You’d been against feeding Octavius slaves from the city or disobedient servants. Instead, Hongjoong brought you scum from the lower dungeons to give to them. Certainly suffocating to death or being torn apart by vicious sentient plants was a worse fate. 

“You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you…”

He heard you from the entrance of the massive greenhouse. Your clear and resonant voice flowed through the branches and vines high above, accompanied by Hongjoong’s radio. Yunho only had to follow the sound down a path of bright flowers to find you near one of the mossy fountains. You danced along the edge of the stone pool, where water lilies and lotus flowers floated in the currents. He swore the lotus flowers glowed a faint pink light. Yeosang mentioned you’d been working on your botanical abilities. You knew how to regrow and speak to them; you could control their growth and patterns as well. But, that was about it for now. Watching you from afar, he understood the masters’ fascination and infatuation with you. 

You’re beautiful. You’re lively and glowing with life. Even in Hell, where misery and despair go hand-in-hand, you didn’t let it touch you. Being around you felt like being in a different time. Yunho grew up around the old-fashioned ways of his ancestors. You brought new music and culture to the Black Keep. He heard the maids saying things like “that’s bitchin’” or “take a chill pill, dude”. One of the younger footmen told him he had an “awesome bod”. Your carefree attitude and free spirit became contagious. Yunho liked it. It made his masters and staff happy, and that made him happy. 

“Don’t-Don’t you want me? You know I can’t believe it when I hear that you won’t see me-”

“-Mistress, your breakfast-”

“Don’t-” you whipped your head to him, dramatic and fierce, “Don’t you want me?”

“Mistress-”

“-You know I don’t believe you when you say that you don’t need me…” you stalked over to him, bobbing your head to the music. He found it quite comical. “It’s much too late to find. You’d think you changed your mind. You better change it back or we will both be sorry! Don’t you want me baby?! Don’t you want me ohhhh oooh-”

“-Mistress,” he laughed as you bounced around him, “I have your breakfast.”

You continued singing to your plants. He noticed the glowing lotuses brightened to the tune of the song, various pinks and whites in the dark water. A new ability, he assumed. He placed the breakfast tray on a table nearby, then turned back to you. You were breathtaking today. Not because of your tight high-waisted shorts or the blouse that flattered your shape. The light in your eyes, the carefree way you sang and danced around made you beautiful to him. He sometimes thought he might be in the presence of a goddess, a being higher than himself who came to bless him with her beauty. 

A beauty he appreciated every night through a peephole. 

“Thanks, Yunho,” you smiled, catching your breath. “Is it Cook’s egg bowl?”

“With potatoes, scallions and bacon bits as requested,” he nodded. “I took the liberty to brew you a dark roast this morning. Jongho mentioned you favored it over the medium we normally brew.”

“Aw, Yunho,” your smile gave him butterflies. Watching you come over to the tray, you fixed your coffee, “You’re so sweet.”

“I’m only doing my job, Mistress. It’s my duty to make sure you’re always comfortable and happy.”

“Or Seonghwa will feed you to Octavius?”

“It is a scary punishment,” he joked back. 

The fact that he’d made you laugh brought out a smile. “Ooop,” you giggled over your steaming cup, “I did it.”

“Did what?”

“Make the Head of House smile.” You hip bumped him, “Don’t be such a statue. You’re cute when you smile.” 

“I can smile,” he excused. He never realized it until he met you that he rarely laughed. Not that he can’t joke around, he could. His job simply took up too much time for that sort of thing. He took a look around to see if he caught Jongho anywhere. “Where is Jongho? He is meant to be here with you.”

“He’s with Yeosang,” you said, walking over to a swing made of branches and flowers. Sipping your coffee, a tangle of vines pushed the cart over to you and you started eating. “They're bringing more lights.”

“More lights?”

“Hongjoong wants to take pictures of me,” you said. “Did you know he does photography?”

“It is one of his hobbies.”

“His least sexual ones,” you noted, scooping up more egg and sausage. “I was looking around for a book in his room and I found his portfolio. He takes really good pictures. I mean, most of them were people in bondage or lingerie, but still tasteful. I asked him about them and he told me he likes to do it from time to time, so he said he wanted to photograph me.”

“You'd make a splendid model, Mistress,” Yunho said, trying not to notice your lips around the spoon. Did everything you do have to look good? “Will you be needing anything else?”

“Not right now, thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

He bowed, and then left. Then, he saw Master Hongjoong come through the greenhouse doors. He noticed the black duffle bag and camera around his neck. 

“Morning, sir,” Yunho stopped to bow. 

“Morning. Is YN here?”

“As always.”

“Good. Make sure nobody disturbs us for now,” he said, adjusting the camera around his neck. “I don't like being interrupted.”

“Of course, sir.”

Hongjoong walked down the garden path, and an idea came to Yunho. Lunch service wasn't for a while. His staff all knew their duties and knew the penalty for falling behind. He could spare a few minutes. 

Waiting until Hongjoong disappeared, he went down the opposite path around the greenhouse. He still heard the radio playing, soon followed by Hongjoong’s voice. Hiding behind a lattice divider of flowers, Yunho saw you and Hongjoong through the holes. It reminded him of the ones back in the keep: small concealed holes he'd cut into walls and paintings to spy on people. He'd originally done it to keep an eye on the staff, but he soon learned it came with other benefits. He'd grown fond of watching the masters with their servants. Watching their hard bodies rut into the soft forms of their partners aroused him to no end. The idea that they had no idea made him harder. Eventually, Master Seonghwa discovered these holes, and began enjoying them as well. Now, it was his favorite thing. H

e stood against the divider and watched you pose for Hongjoong. The photos started off innocently enough: you posing with flowers and on the edge of the fountain in various angles, and slowly removing clothing in each shot. Blood rushed to his core when you knelt naked in the fountain. Flower petals clung to your wet skin in places, and the glowing flowers added an ethereal mood to it. You might be a goddess emerging from the pool, covered in the flowers you loved so much. You could be offering him your body in exchange for his undying faith. 

Hongjoong stopped snapping photos when he could no longer control himself. You sat kneeling in the pool, thighs spread as vines crept up your body. Yunho’s jaw dropped when one of them slid into your mouth. You truly are a sinful sight. How could anyone expect to resist you? He stood there, hot around the collar, and observed. Hongjoong unbuckled his jeans, pushing his hips to your face as the vine slithered down your body. By the stifled moans, your vine had entered you. Yunho let out a soft sigh, unable to look anywhere but at you. 

You should be worshiped. You are an exotic nymph who comes to seduce and ensnare him. He'd gladly step into the water if it meant tasting your lips, regardless of what happened after. He knew he could have you now, if he wanted. No longer a pleasure slave, you could seek out others. He'd let you collar him right away. He groaned softly when Hongjoong tapped his cock on your tongue, sliding it up and down before pushing back into your mouth. Yunho began rubbing the tightness in his trousers when you spread your legs for Hongjoong. He watched the redhead set you on the dirt and slip into your warm cunt. He had a view of where you both met; the mere shadow of his thick cock filling you had Yunho stroking himself soon enough. 

It was when you rode Hongjoong that he came. You arched your back so your round ass stuck out. That way, he saw the hard cock stretching you. You looked so beautiful this way: hair tousled, body shimmering with sweat and your pussy wetting the dick inside you. He couldn’t help imagining you opening your mouth as he jerked himself over you. You'd catch every drop; his offering to his divine goddess. Yunho gripped the wooden divider in front of him as his body contorted to his orgasm. In quiet, restrained moans, he spilled his cum all over the floor. Your own orgasm came shortly afterwards, coming in time with Hongjoong’s upward thrusts. 

“Open your mouth for me, baby,” Hongjoong ordered, moving to stand over you. 

‘Cum in her mouth,’ Yunho thought hungrily. ‘Cum in her slutty mouth.’

He did. What he loved more was you licking Hongjoong clean. Yunho took deep breaths, tucking himself back into his pants when he noticed. Hongjoong's tip in your mouth, you glanced over to his hiding spot. He swore you made direct eye contact with him. You slid your tongue up and over the bulb of Hongjoong, sucking whatever remnants you'd missed the first time. He needed you. He needed to fuck you senselessly; he needed to worship and pleasure you. 

“Can we keep going, Master?” you asked innocently, stroking Hongjoong. “I haven't been fucked in such a long time. I can't stop now.”

“Give me those pretty lips and we can definitely go again.”

Yunho ended up watching each hot, sweaty, dirty round. He'd never cum so much before. You truly must be something divine. 

A goddess. 

*****

You realized you enjoyed teasing Yunho. Not only did the butler give adorable flustered looks, but his squirming contrasted his stern, professional appearance. It reminded you of Yeosang, who kept his composure even in the face of your naked body. You'd been sure that when he spied on you in the greenhouse, he'd come and taste you himself. But instead, he stayed hidden the entire time. So, you decided to signal him in other ways.

You spent a whole week eating creamy cakes and tarts to make white messes around your mouth. Yunho swallowed thickly when you locked eyes with him. He'd watch you lick the cream from your fingers or wipe it from your mouth with fascination. You thought for sure he'd give in then. Everyone else did. Instead, he’d offer his handkerchief, a white cloth embroidered with gold thread. 

You then tried a more direct approach. Yunho often came by your room for status reports from Jongho and Yeosang. Since discovering this, you often entangled yourself in the pair right before he showed up. He stayed to watch only once. You saw him drool over your bouncing breasts, and bend a little to catch them both inside you. You begged him to join, but he stayed silent. Couldn't he tell how badly you wanted him? When this didn't work, you started simply walking about the keep naked, especially in the servant areas. While you let other servants have their look, it was Yunho you focused on. He liked your tits, you knew that much. He'd bit his inner cheek when you allowed cream to drop from your chin to your breasts. 

He. Did. Nothing. 

Yet, his resistance only made you want him more. With his long limbs and broad body, Yunho stood out from the rest of the servants. You knew many female servants found him attractive, and you agreed. His curved horns came from the sides of his head, and in the right light you saw the silver bands gleaming around them. His tail, skinny and long, had another band right underneath the arrow-shaped end. Seonghwa explained to you that children of Mammon, Prince of Greed, often adorned themselves with silver or gold. He told you off-duty Yunho wore silver earrings and piercings. You doubted you'd ever see “off-duty Yunho” since Yunho worked more than anyone else in the Black Keep. 

Which is where your teasing came in. Out of all the servants, Yunho shows the least interest in sleeping with you. Aside from your first time with San, where he'd watched, the house manager kept his distance. He only really served the lords, since Jongho and Yeosang are your personal servants. But, as time went on in the keep, you began wondering if the incubus avoided being alone with you. Maybe he didn't enjoy sex the same as the others; he might be more spectator than performer. That did leave a smudge of disappointment, since you found Yunho’s puppy-dog eyes and large hands attractive. Now that you can sleep with whoever you like, you want a slice of every pie and cake in the place. He had plenty of opportunities to indulge in your pie, but did not. 

You wondered what made the butler tick. Yes, trying to coax him into your bed might be a bit messed up, but you knew he wanted it. You could tell whenever he saw you naked; whenever you showed him your tight sex being filled by someone or bounced your tits on purpose, his eyes lingered there until he remembered his place. Trying to get him only made you ache for him more. 

“Linette?” 

Linette, a succubus of 180 years, was one of the younger maids in the house. Tight brown curls hung around a heart shaped face, with pouty lips made for kissing. Her golden brown skin glowed from her beauty and her kind’s natural radiance; almond eyes batted long lashes that gave off an innocent appearance. In her black and white uniform, you understood the males’ fascination with her. She'd finished ironing one of Seonghwa’s shirts as you approached her. She stopped at once, and stood up straight. Thankfully, only you two occupied the scullery. 

“Yes, Mistress?” she asked in her soft voice. 

“I had a question, and I don't want anyone else to know,” you began.

“I swear anything you say in confidence will stay with me,” she said quite proudly. 

You moved closer to her, “Where are the peepholes?”

“The peepholes? I-I don't know what you-”

“-I know you know,” you said. “All the servants do. You must have looked through one before. I know they are in the secret passages around here, but which rooms? What parts of them?”

She fiddled with the end of her apron, clearly torn between honesty and lying. “They're mainly in the bedrooms,” she finally admitted, “But there are some looking into the study, the music room, the main library, the lounge and a few other places.”

You snorted amusedly, “You know where all of them are, huh?”

She turned away shyly. “All of us do, Mistress. It's a sort of recreational activity around here.” She stepped to you, “I can show you where they are, should you wish to enjoy them too?” 

“That’d be awesome. Where’s the first one?”

Linette escorted you around the keep. The first peepholes hid inside paintings around Hongjoong’s apartment: one looking into his bedroom and another in his dungeon. She then took you to the one in between books in the library, the two peeking into the lounge, one looking through a mirror in San’s personal gym, several in all the bathrooms, one inside a low painting in Seonghwa’s music room, and one peering inside the kitchen. She then took you through the dimly lit passages to a room you knew very well.

Your bedroom.

Linette explained yours is the newest, most popular one. You suspected this much whenever you caught a footman or a maid looking at you. Seonghwa mentioned it a few times to you, but you didn’t think too much about it. The possibility someone might be watching you intrigued you. You never minded in the brothel. Most of your work happened in the main room regardless, so you’d shed a lot of your shame since then. As she guided you away from your bedroom peephole, a sudden noise caught your attention. The last hole happened to peek into your dressing room. No doubt many servants watched you undress in here, seeing your body in a casual setting. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stopped to remove the painted corn plug.

“Fuck…”

A rush of warmth went over you when you saw him. Leaning against one of the dressers was Yunho. Head tilted back, you saw his pants pooled around his ankles and his shirt lifted up from his narrow hips. The softly defined abdomen tensed each time his cock twitched. Your mouth watered at the sight of him. It salivated more when you saw what he jerked himself with: a pair of red silk panties. Lightly, he rubbed your panties over his throbbing length. He lowered his head to watch your panties snag on the head. With his free hand, he stroked the clothed tip until the silk became sticky with precum.

“Wow….” you breathed softly, seeing him whimper at this new maneuver. “He’s bigger than I’d first thought.” You remembered the last time you’d seen that dick. It looked delicious even then.

“Hm?” Linette walked back to see what you’d found, and she giggled softly. “Oh yes. Yunho is pretty big.”

“I think I’d have to do size training with that,” you smirked at her.

“He really likes that.”

“And how do you know?” you crossed your arms and grinned.

“We’ve…We’ve done it a few times.”

“Really?” you gasped, intrigued. “What was it like?”

“Amazing!” she said, happy to see your positive reaction. “He’s so considerate and comforting. He’s more gentle than Master Hongjoong or Mingi, for sure. When I do it with him, it’s like the first time every time. He does have a fascination with panties, which I’m sure you can tell already. He likes to make me cum inside mine so he can keep them.”

“How often have you done it?”

“Not too often. We’re both really busy, but sometimes, you know, those pent up feelings come out.”

“Does he do it with only you or others?”

“Just Mingi and myself. They’re very close, and he knows I won’t tell the other servants.”

“Are you guys, like, a thing?”

“Not really. Yunho’s not the dating type, and neither am I. We like to keep it casual with no strings attached.”

“Huh, no labels. I get that. I wasn't the dating type either. I never found anyone worth dating in the first place.” You looked back into the peephole. Yunho’s hips began moving forward, his hand jerking him faster as he grew closer to his release. “He must taste so good.”

“He does,” she confirmed. She then giggled, “I mentioned it to him once, and now he cums down my throat whenever we do it. He says he likes seeing my mouth full of cum.”

“Dirty girl,” you looked back over to tease. You started liking Linette more and more. Not only was she as beautiful as you, but clearly didn’t mind speaking frankly about obscene subjects. “If only he'd let me get a lick. He wouldn't regret it.”

“Yunho has pretty strong willpower. He won't be as easy as the others.”

“Psh, tell me about it,” you rolled your eyes. “I've been sending very obvious signals, and he just stands there and jerks off. Sometimes he straight up runs away from me. I don't get what I'm doing wrong.”

“Nothing, I'm sure. Yunho isn't really like other demons. Sex takes a backseat to everything else.”

“Clearly.”

Your sex throbbing between your thighs, you watched Yunho’s body tremble as he came. His hand gripped the dresser behind him until the knuckles turned white. He fucked his hand as if it were a real hole, squirting into your underwear while he imagined your cunt instead. Or, did he fantasize about your mouth? Your ass, perhaps? You were dying to know. A distinct wetness pooled in your panties as Linette led you out of the passageway into a room you’d never seen before.

A room made of gray marble, steps in the floor lead into a pool of crystal clear water. Circular, the mosaic piece at the bottom resembles a lotus flower in white and gold. Not exactly big, it could fit a good number of people should there be a party.

“We have a pool?” you asked Linette in surprise.

“We do. You’ve never been here?”

“No, I wasn’t aware we had one. It looks great.”

Your body flushed with heat from your arousal, you untucked your polo shirt from your shorts and flung it off. Linette stood by as you undressed yourself, picking up the pieces on the floor. Once you were naked, you looked over to her. 

“Linette? Care to join?”

The question caught the maid off guard. “Oh, me, Mistress?”

“It’s cool if you don’t want to,” you told her. “I know not everybody’s into girls and boys. I’m sure if you went and asked someone else, they’d be up for it.”

She shyly stepped over to you, “I’d like to do it with you very much, Mistress. The men aren’t the only ones who peek into your room sometimes. Your beauty truly is unique around here, and you’re…a goddess.”

The thought that even the female servants desired you pumped up your ego a bit. Moving over to her, you held her by the hips as you brought her in for a soft peck. Lips plush like petals, their warmth and taste drew you in further. Kissing down her long neck, you untied her apron and tossed it aside. Heavy breathing flowed between you as you stripped her down, gasping when you saw her supple tits inside a white lace bra. Pert and supple, you took her dark nipple in your mouth to hear her softly gasp. 

A part of you knew your kisses fueled Linette’s arousal, the woman eager for more of you. Yet, you couldn't help yourself. Sex became such a big part of your life in Hell, that you can't go without it. All the oppressed feelings in your natural life came loose in your afterlife. You wanted to sample everything like a kid in a candy store. 

Linette let out a soft moan once you cupped her round ass, whimpering when you spread them. This. How did anyone expect you not to hunger for this? Especially with so many fine specimens around? Her desire became clear when she grabbed your ass in return, squeezing until you moved into her. No doubt the low water surface teased her smooth sex like it did to yours. She moved her hands to palm and sucked your tits while you groped her ass. The drug coming from your lips fueled the flames already burning between Linette’s thighs. The scent of mixed spices clung to your nose, and you hungered for more of her. 

You’d laid her against the steps, kissing down her stomach when the door opened. 

“Linette, there you are. I have been looking…for…you.”

Yunho stood in the doorway, dazed by the sight by the pool. It took him a minute to realize what he’d walked into, and you thought he’d walk right back out. Yet, he remained frozen a few feet from you. His eyes cast down your wet bodies, and he gulped. Keeping your eyes on him, you sucked on one of Linette’s breasts. The light brushes of her hands down your sides created goosebumps. Yunho stayed stock still as you both kissed and caressed one another. His attentive stare burned fires that you couldn’t douse out. His presence made each of you want to do more and more. You expected him to eventually give into his desires and at least stick his hand in his pants, but he never did. As you and Linette took things up a level, Yunho only spectated. When Linette turned you to face him, your back to her chest, he didn’t move a muscle. Seeing her begin rubbing your pussy, you thought surely he’d cave. Maybe he preferred his women to be clothed? He did absolutely nothing when you pressed Linette to the top steps and fingered and licked her. He might as well be watching a TV show by how much he reacted. 

Yunho stood by as you sisscored, your sensitive cores sliding up and down each other. Both of you realized you’d get nothing from the only man in the room, so you came together in front of him. Seeing you both breathing deep, collapsing on the smooth floors, Yunho only nodded. 

“Well done,” he said. “I quite enjoyed that.”

“You did?” you asked in disbelief. “You’re not even hard.”

“I can control myself, Mistress. Someone in my position can't indulge whenever we please,” he replied simply. He said this, but you knew he wanted it. “I assume Linette won’t be joining the dinner service?”

“She’ll be indisposed, I’m afraid,” you answered, crawling over and kissing her softly. 

His eyes lingered on your nude, wet body. You angled yourself to let him have a full view, knowing he’ll save it for later with another pair of panties. When his eyes wandered to Linette, and his attraction to her became clear. Linette, who must be a kindred spirit, did the same as you. Yunho, unlike any other incubus in the house, coughed and bowed his head to you. He left the room, but you knew the image stuck with him as he walked out. 

You and Linette laughed softly at his reaction. The two of you stayed in the pool for a while, talking and occasionally kissing. You learned Linette is the youngest maid out of the entire staff, which makes her the most sought after by the masters and others. She’d been born into a poor family, distant relations to Prince Beelzebub, Prince of Gluttony, and she started cleaning houses at a young age. Not everyone, she told you, became pleasure or house slaves. A good chunk of low-ranking demons worked in the houses of the elite as maids or butlers. 

“Like Yunho,” she said, drying herself off. “He’s a great-great-great-great-great grandson of Prince Mammon. He had a bit of money, and his father had a title but he’d squandered most of it in the gambling dens. Yunho became a butler to pay off family debts at first, but then he joined The Black Keep when he befriended Master Seonghwa.” 

“You know a lot about him, hm?”

She smiled shyly, “We do talk socially and after sex in his room. He’s so intelligent and wise. I’ve learned a lot from him since I’ve been here.” 

“Aw, you have a crush.”

“No, I don’t,” she shook her head, laughing. 

“That smile’s telling me different,” you teased in a sing-song voice. “Is he your type?”

“Tall, smart, with big eyes and a huge dick? He’d be anybody’s type.”

You and her laughed. You liked Linette, you decided. After this, she became part of your own “staff”: Yeosang managed everything (despite pretending it annoys him), Jongho tended to you personally, Mingi guarded you, and sweet, pretty Linette handled the cleaning and serving. It felt good, you realized, to have a group to call yours. Sure, they served you but not out of obligation. You didn’t have many friends in Hell. 

They felt like home. 

****

“Don’t leave me,” you murmured into his ear, slowly drawing out of your grogginess. “Stay here.”

Hongjoong’s soft giggle cut the silence, “I wish I could, Pet. I really do.”

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, and nuzzled his neck. You’d spent the night in Hongjoong’s bed, cuddling and talking as you both drifted to sleep. His job in the lower dungeons exhausted him, and he’d wanted comfort rather than sex. Turning over, he pecked the side of your mouth to avoid another sex-inducing kiss. 

“Just pretend it’s still night time,” you said, recalling a scene in your favorite Shakespearian play. “Everyone else is asleep, and the moon is still in the sky. You don’t leave for a few more hours,” you kissed his cheek and snuggled to his side. “Stay here.”

“It’s morning, babe,” he picked up on your playful banter. “Yunho’s going to come in here soon and draw back the curtains. You can’t sleep with the sun shining on you. It sucks.”

“No, it’s nighttime,” you said. “He’s too busy banging Linette to come in here.”

The comment pulled Hongjoong out of the conversation. “What? With Linette?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” as chatty as Hongjoong is, he can keep secrets. “But, they apparently hook up sometimes.”

“Ooh, where?”

“I guess wherever they’re both at?” you said, pushing red strands from his face. “She was showing me all the peepholes, and we caught him jerking off in my dressing room. That's when she told me.”

“With your panties, I’m assuming?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve dry humped him while wearing women’s underwear before.” You should have expected a lewd story. “I swore he came twice from it,” he chuckled, bringing you closer under the warm blankets. “I was trying on some stuff I’d bought from Wooyoung during my cross-dressing phase-”

“-You had a cross-dressing phase?-

“-Obviously, yes. Everyone has one,” he said quickly, “And he caught me. I asked him if he preferred the black lace or the violet satin, and he said he couldn’t choose between them. With a bit of flirting, I wore each one to see which made him cum harder. He likes satin or silk. He says they get wet easily, and he can feel it.”

“You never wear panties for me,” you flicked his shoulder.

“I didn’t know you liked that,” he said.

“I’d like to try it sometime.”

“Do you want a dress too?”

“Let’s start off with panties and see where it goes, yeah?” you both laughed, and you clung to him. “So yeah, Linette and him fuck on occasion. We fucked in that secret pool you have that nobody told me about, and Yunho walked in. Can you believe he wasn't even hard?”

“Yeah, I can. Dude's an enigma,” he said. “He can get hard and soft on cue. I have no clue where he'd learned it from, but it can be useful in certain situations. I don't think even your charms would work on him.”

“They didn't.”

“And you're disappointed,” he cooed, “Aw, the little slut didn't get the dick she wanted.”

“I haven't done it in a while.”

“You told me you did it with Linette.”

“That doesn't count.” 

He paused, “Would you, you know, do that again? With another woman?”

“I might. It'd be somewhere way more comfortable though,” you kissed his shoulder. “Yes, you can watch through a peephole or something.” 

“Psh,” he said, “The peepholes are for the servants. We get the two-way mirrors.”

“Hold on,” you said, shocked, “Two-way mirrors?”

“Yeah. The servants don’t know because they’re pretty well hidden in the walls,” he elaborated. “They’re not in every room, but most of them. Haven’t you noticed there’s mirrors in rooms where it'd be kind of odd to have them?”

“No, obviously.” Then, the thought came to you, “You have them in my rooms, don’t you?”

“Naturally,” he said. “I really enjoyed watching you and Jongho the other day. I didn’t think you’d be the dominant type.”

“I’m typically not, but I don’t know,” you idly traced his collarbone, “He’s so cute and submissive already. I couldn’t help it.” You then asked, “How would I know you’re there?”

He gave his wicked smile, “You don’t. That’s what makes it hot.” He skimmed down your side, reaching around to grab your ass, “One of us could be watching and you’d never know.” He reached down to kiss your breast, “So, feel free to touch yourself in front of one. You never know who's watching.”

“How spine tingling.”

A light knock at the door pulled you both from your heated world, and Hongjoong called for them to enter. Yunho walked into the room with the familiar sherry glass of cold serum. All the heat that built up fizzled away when you saw it. He must have guessed you’d try luring Hongjoong into sleeping with you. Either him or Seonghwa, you’re never sure. Hongjoong rolled onto his back and you rested on his chest. You both wore pajamas to bed, so you only felt him through the shirt and shorts he’d worn. A part of you longed to drag your clothed sex over the bare limb until you came all over yourself, but you knew better.

“Morning, Yunho,” he said in a hoarse voice, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning Master, Mistress,” he bowed his head. “Cold serum, sir. Master Seonghwa thought you might need it.”

“Of course he did,” he huffed. “He just wants her to himself,” he wrapped you tightly in his arms and kissed your forehead.

Since losing your slave status, you didn’t have to adhere to quality time days with your lovers. You mostly did to avoid them fighting over you, but if you preferred San over his brothers one night, they couldn't argue. They thought you never noticed the sneaky tactics they’d use to get you into their beds instead. Their small spats amused you; it made you feel desirable and important, two things you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“I suppose I will,” he grumbled, leaving the bed and taking the small glass. He downed it in one gulp, hissing from the cold syrup in his mouth. “I hate that crap,” he said. “I’m already going to the coldest place in Hell. Now I gotta walk around with this stuff in me.”

“Master,” you whined, reaching to his back to trace his spine, “I can warm you up.”

He laughed, “Yunho should have brought you one, naughty girl.”

He turned to kiss your cheek, narrowing avoiding your attempt at kissing his lips. “It won’t work anyways,” he said, catching on to it. “Cold serum’s pretty strong.”

“Even for my kisses?” you lifted your shirt up your stomach to the bottom curves of your tits.

“Especially those,” he said, reaching underneath to roll a nipple between his fingers. He smirked at your clenched thighs, “I have toys, baby. You can use those.” He smiled when he kissed beneath your breast, “My needy baby. You’ll get to have it later, I promise.” He raised your shirt over them, and took one in his mouth. The gradual whirls around the middle added to your growing arousal. “Go to your greenhouse if you’re so horny,” he pulled away. “Your little plants don’t say no to their mistress.”

“But I want you,” you pouted, sucking on his thumb. “I’ve gone too long without you in me.” 

“I know, baby,” he said, forcing himself to leave your side. You normally spotted a bulge by now, but not this time. Cold serum really did its job. “And you can have it later, like I said. Stop being a whore and get up.”

The insult only aroused you more. Hongjoong sensed this and laughed, “You like it when I degrade you. And people say I’m a slut. Here’s what you’re going to do then,” you gasped when he grabbed your pussy, mushing it with his fingers, “I'm going to go shower. While I'm gone, I want you playing with this lovely pussy of yours. By the time I'm done, I want you ready to cum for me. If you aren't ready before then, I’ll have to punish you. You do remember what I did during your last punishment, don’t you?”

“I do.”

He’d taken you close to orgasm multiple times before simply stopping. You remembered the frustration of him pressing a toy to your pussy only to deny you an orgasm. He’d gotten you dripping over his sheets before he left for “a snack”. The longest thirty minutes of your life with Yeosang instructed to keep you edged until he returned. Your household manager’s degrading remarks only took you closer, as well as the slaps to your cunt.

“And we don’t want that to happen again, do we?”

“No, sir.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“Keep playing with myself until you come back.”

“Good girl.”

Hongjoong kissed your cheek then left for his bathroom. With a soft click, you knew he’d locked it to avoid you going after him. You couldn’t fight off the irritation in you. Glancing over to Yunho, you wanted to see if he’d cave this time. Two women might be too much for him. Sliding your shorts off, you kicked them in his direction.

“Mistress?”

“You like watching, don’t you?” 

“Um, well, I suppose. Master Hongjoong said he didn’t want you doing…that until later.”

“He said to hold it until he came back,” you lifted your knees and spread them, putting yourself on display. In just your panties, Yunho could only see the outline. Yet, he did fixate on the spot of wetness blotting the white cotton. Wetting your fingers, you started rolling your clit in small circles. “I can’t help it sometimes,” you whined, the tight sensation pulsing in your walls, “I get so turned on. I’m sure you know how that feels?”

“I do, actually.”

“Even when you watch me?” you giggled at his stunned expression, “I know you do. You like watching me,” you wet your fingers again to rub your clit softly, “You like watching my pussy get stretched out by a big dick. Is that your favorite thing to watch me do?”

“Mistress, I don’t think this is very appropriate,” he said, gulping as he still looked at you. “But, if you must know, I enjoy watching you on top.”

“I knew it,” you gasped as you lightly brushed your hand over your clit. “It’s because you get to see them inside me, huh?”

“Yes,” he answered as if you’d asked a normal question. “Your moans also change.”

“Do they?”

“They do. You’re fully on top of it, so their cock is directly pushing on that sensitive spot inside you,” he said. “I quite enjoy hearing the long string of moans you give when you’re first on top. Sometimes, I see you get into a particularly heated moment and bounce on it right away.” He stepped forward until he reached the bed. Even having him right beside you pushed your arousal forward. He chuckled, “Or your partner holding you to them as they fuck into you hard and fast; your ass rippling and slapping against them each time just gives me a certain feeling.” His vulgar fantasies stirred more pressure, but you pulled away. Yunho let out a long breath when you pulled both sides of your underwear to the middle, isolating your clit and wetting the fabric more. “Mistress…” he breathed, his hand resting on your knee, “Oh, Mistress…”

“Yes?” you breathed out, using your finger to tease the hard nub. The long fingers trailed down your inner thighs back and forth, while he admired your wet underwear. 

“May I watch you?” he asked.

“Only watch? You don't want to touch me too?”

He let his fingers draw further down your thigh. “You're offering me the privilege to touch you?

“I am,” you said. You recalled what Linette said. She'd called you a ‘goddess’. “I only give that to so few people.”

“Then I truly am lucky,” he said. He lifted one leg and sat on the edge. Facing you, he stayed between your ankles to keep touching you softly. “I could watch you do this all day if you asked it of me.”

“You really like watching, huh?” you giggled, finding his kink humorous at this point. 

“It's like watching porn in real life,” he said. “I get to see your body move and bend to the passion burning inside you up close. I can see your cunt,” he said, taking a deep breath, “And how wet it gets. You are…..Divine, Mistress. I never miss an opportunity to look at you in your most intimate moments. It's like coming across a rare bird. You take in as much as you can because you might not see it again.”

“Except you see me way more.”

“Not nearly enough, in my opinion.” He massaged the backs of your calves, and said, “Keep touching yourself, Mistress. Let me look.”

“With my panties on?”

“If I may keep them afterwards.”

“I have plenty,” you settled yourself against the pillows, rubbing your foot on his crotch, “So yes.”

Yunho then sat on the edge and watched you tease yourself. He let out a deep groan when your foot started sliding up and down his crotch. His eyes, however, stayed on your hand. The slight pressure hardened against the curve of your foot, and you knew he enjoyed it too much for you to stop. You should consider wearing stockings next time. When you pulled your panties aside to show him, he undid his trousers and pulled himself out for you. Heavy breaths joined soft whimpers as you teased his cock and yourself for him. Your toes rolling over the tip, applying a mild bit of pleasure made Yunho hitch a breath. As you did this, Yunho ran his hand from your toes to your thighs each time. The gentle touch tickled slightly, but you sunk too far in pleasure to take it in. You giggled slightly when he took hold of your ankle to guide your foot on his length. His cock grew harder against the sole. You guessed he really could separate himself from his desires. 

Until now. 

Eventually, he withdrew his bare length for you to continue teasing. You turned your foot inward and stroked him on one side. Yunho gripped the edge of the bed, whimpering at the light touches. He gave a particularly breathy moan once you found his balls inside his pants. You found his grinding into your foot too erotic to ignore. Your clit pulsed against your fingers as Yunho surrendered. He propped himself up on his elbows and let you have more access to him. When he looked over to your center, you spread your other leg to give him a better view. You caught a trickle of drool in the corner of his mouth, which he licked up right away. 

He suddenly pulled you over to him, your lower half between his legs. Anticipation bubbled at the closeness between you. Putting your soaked underwear back over yourself, Yunho angled his cock to slide under it. His thick tip pressed to your swollen clitoris, passing over your entrance each time. The smooth cotton of your panties became see through with your juices, which made it stick to Yunho’s shaft. The both of you whimpered and moaned at the teasing. He sometimes popped out of them to tap and rub from the outside. The light slapping became wet the longer he rolled himself around, and you started wishing he'd stick it in already. Each touch sparked sensitivity that made you wriggle between his thighs. Locked by them, you could only grip his black pants as he teased you. 

Yunho’s mouth dropped when his cock accidentally slipped inside. You whimpered feeling the head pull in and out slowly. Suddenly, your entire body felt on fire, buzzing with electricity at the same time. The desperation for more couldn't be satisfied. Withdrawing, you saw his dick glistening in the morning light. His lips parted in each moan and eyes full of longing, he made such a beautiful, erotic sight. Pictures of him pounding you into the bed formed a hard knot in your groin. His tip didn't feel enough anymore. The torture made you rut against Yunho, angling to slide further down. 

“Shall I go deeper, Mistress?” he asked, pulling out and spreading your juices around. “I only aim to please you.”

“Yes,” you sighed, “Yes, go deeper.”

Yunho lifted your legs up and maneuvered himself to be on top of you. You held onto his shoulders as he slowly entered you. Having him buried in your cunt sent new waves up your body. Legs shaking, toes curling, you clawed at his shirt sleeves as he rocked back and forth. The feeling of his girth stretching you became an instant obsession. His heavy, larger form towering over yours, you could only lay there under him. Gradually picking up the pace, your mind started spinning. The orgasm you’d been ordered to hold might arrive early after all.

“Oh, Mistress,” Yunho breathed in your ear, hands on your breasts and lips on your neck, “You feel heavenly.”

His lips and hands went down your body as much as the position allowed. Yunho memorized each part of you. You could feel him pressing his thumbs into the plumper parts, and kissing every patch of skin he reached. He sought to learn every pleasure point, every little tick and moan that escaped you. You brushed your nipples into front of his vest, enjoying the smooth satin against the hard centers. He squeezed and sucked them for you, then held them to let you enjoy the sensation. Yunho truly did wish to please you. 

“Go faster, Yunho,” you said, a plea in your voice. Your hands going through his soft black hair, he obeyed your command right away. Soon, his hips slapped against yours, the position forcing your hips a bit higher. “Yes,” you breathed, head digging into the mattress, “Just like that. Please, keep going like that. It feels so good!”

“Anything for you, Mistress,” he inhaled. “Anything.”

You brought him to your lips, pecking the pale skin there before whispering, “Then cum in my mouth. I want you to cum in it the way you do for Linette.”

“Of course,” he panted, pushing harder, “I’d cum nowhere else. Consider it an offering.” He pinned you by the wrists and went deeper, “An offer-offering to my goddess.”

“A generous one,” you gave a breathy laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist to lock him in place.

Lips parting in every moan, his eyes closing, you knew he’d cum soon. You could almost feel him twitching against your bumpy walls; he’d finish any minute if he kept going. Your own orgasm bubbled in a pot deep down, your juices trickling out in every thrust. When he began his steady pace, his head pressed right to your sensitive core again. The both of you filled the room with your groans and moans, nearly crying and screams the longer it took. You did not even notice the other person in the room.

“Is my little pet close?” Hongjoong appeared beside you in his towel. “Hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you cried in time with Yunho’s hips. “So fucking close. Please, let me cum, Master. Let me cum all over it.”

“Hm, I’m not sure,” he pondered. He sat next to you, and Yunho knelt upwards to give his hand room. Fingers rapidly moved over your clit side to side, you clung to his wrist as you wriggled around. “You look so pretty like this. Your pussy all drenched, panties doused in your pussy juice and precum,” he hummed, “Looks delicious. I don’t think Yunho wants to stop any time soon either, do you?”

“I’ll go as long as my mistress wishes,” Yunho said, holding your knees as he bottomed up. “But, no, sir,” he said, watching himself go in and out, “I don’t want to stop. She feels incredible.”

“She does,” Hongjoong agreed with his mischievous smile. You loved and dreaded that smile. “Keep fucking her,” he settled beside you, removing his towel to reveal a semi-hard cock, “I want to watch up close.”

Yunho did as ordered and continued at the same pace. Occasionally, Hongjoong spat where you met to wet you further or hold your panties aside for Yunho to go deeper. When you felt yourself about to burst, Hongjoong made Yunho stop and pull out.

“It’s so wet,” Hongjoong said, holding Yunho in his hand. He used your combined fluids to stroke Yunho slowly, keeping the butler on edge. “Come here.”

Hongjoong knelt up to Yunho and kissed him deeply. You laid there, shuddering from your denied orgasm as the two men kissed. “How come you’re not naked?” Hongjoong asked, unbuttoning Yunho’s vest and sliding it off him. “YN should see the hot bod you have. It’s to die for.”

“She wanted me to keep them on,” Yunho gasped. He let Hongjoong undo his shirt and remove it to reveal his slim torso and hard nipples. He bucked into Hongjoong’s hand as the latter sucked on them.

“And I want you to take them off.”

Yunho laid back on the bed to let Hongjoong undress the rest of him. Completely naked, Yunho’s body was no longer restricted by his clothes. Hongjoong continued stroking him and kissing his nipples until you crawled to the foot of the bed. Both of you on either side of him, Yunho lost himself in a blissful whirl. Two hands toying with his throbbing cock, two pairs of lips kissing and sucking up and down his chest, and two cores rutting into his strong thighs made him wild.

Then, you did the thing you probably shouldn’t have: you kissed each of them. Since he’d drunk cold serum, you didn’t think your amatory would counteract the potion’s strength. Hongjoong remained mostly soft the entire time, his arousal maintaining mainly a mood rather than a physical need. Yet, as you slid your tongue over his, the soft muscle gradually turned stiff. He let out a low, hungry growl that shifted the tone. His dry humping became more frenzied and his kisses became sloppy and deep. Yunho’s already horny manner inflamed your kisses.

“Suck my cock,” Yunho begged you. “I want to feel your mouth around it. Both of you.”

Neither you nor Hongjoong spoke, but instead went down his body to the aching cock. Hongjoong’s hand keeping it straight by the base, the two of you licked up and down each side. His dick, fully erect, twitched whenever a tongue flicked the head. You kissed it between your mouths, tongues sliding around to touch one another. Droplets of clear liquid were caught by either of you each time Hongjoong squeezed them out. You moaned once you saw Hongjoong sink the tip into his mouth. Little by little, Yunho filled his mouth until Hongjoong hit the bottom. The sight of Hongjoong’s mouth sucking the thick muscle made you gulp. He drooled over the head, then used his spit to coat it completely. When it was your turn, Hongjoong licked around the balls underneath, sucking softly while you worked Yunho’s dick. Yunho held onto every ounce of strength in him to not stick himself deep in your throat, but you knew he wanted to. 

It went higher when Hongjoong kissed down your back to your ass, which he smacked out of pure habit. Lifting your hips, he buried his face into your dripping cunt and immediately attacked your clit head on. Yunho grabbed your hair to start sliding up into your face. Saliva and more precum gathered around your lips, turning white as Yunho used your mouth. You couldn’t focus on anything else except them. All you wanted was to fuck both of them forever, enjoying them however you could.

They grew more excited when you moved to straddle Yunho. Hongjoong held him straight to help you slide the thickness back in your tight cunt. A constant flow of moans came once you were full. Hongjoong locked Yunho’s thighs with his own, wrapping his arms around you to help you ride Yunho, who’d lost all sense by now. Unable to move, Yunho surrendered to the pleasure.

“I don’t think Yunho will be able to resist his goddess after today,” Hongjoong taunted, pinching and rolling your nipples. His surprising strength had you bouncing from top to bottom smoothly, “Show him what he’s been missing, love.”

Hongjoong released you and you lost all control. Whirling your hips, Yunho moved around inside you. You rode Yunho until you both shuddered and quaked together. But, you didn’t want him to stop. You couldn’t let him stop now. Forcing yourself to climb off him, you rested on your side and Yunho took the signal. His larger body encompassed yours, pushing your leg up high as he fucked back into you. The desperate hunger became clearer. One hand gripping your tits, the other worked your clit. Hongjoong sat next to you, watching intently as he stroked himself. Right as your pussy started clutching his cock, Yunho withdrew and replaced his cock with his fingers and tongue. 

Head locked in your thighs, Yunho’s fingers abused your g-spot until you screamed his name. Cum shot out of your pussy into his mouth, each spurt making you more and more sensitive. Even when you finished, he aimed for another orgasm. Pulling you onto his face in a single roll, you clawed at the head board as you rode his tongue. You twitched each time it hit your clit, enjoying the spark it brought and feeling it fuel your desires. Yunho, controlled by his lust, had no trouble tossing you onto your back once again.

“Yunho,” you breathed his name, squeaking when he grabbed your ankles and pinned your knees to your chest. “God, keep going. Keep fucking me. Please.”

Yunho’s long fingers went in and out quickly, your wetness creating a slick slapping sound. He hungrily sucked and licked at your clit every so often to bring you to another orgasm. At the second one, you jerked and bucked as it hit you hard. The underwear he’d refused to remove felt sticky and moist. He readjusted them to the side before replacing his fingers with his cock. Your lips turned the reserved Yunho into a feral animal. You loved it. Pulling his hair, you brought his face to your breasts to force your nipple into his mouth. His moans tickled the supple flesh, his tongue swirling around it while he fucked you. You kept his face there as he brought you to a third orgasm. 

Yunho gave a few final thrusts as you came down, then straddled your chest. His tip inches from your mouth, you opened wide to let the stringy streams grow thicker and shoot onto your tongue and lips. His low groans came from deep in his chest, pushing through gritted teeth in each growl. His body constricted, muscles and veins in his hands showing. It finished in subtle shudders, the last bits dripping directly into your throat. You let him see the pool of cum in your mouth before you swallowed; the sight made him stick his tip between your lips to milk the rest. 

You moved your hands to the front to stroke him. He rocked through them and to your mouth. Once you had his dick in your hands, you couldn’t get enough. You wanted him to get hard again. You needed him to. You went too long without it. Right when you took him in your throat, something long slipped into your sore pussy.

“I can’t help it,” Hongjoong said. “Just keep sucking him, and I’ll dump it in you.”

You adjusted yourself for more room, arms wrapped around Yunho’s thighs. Having both mouth and sex plugged up, you gave them free usage of your holes. Nothing felt better. Hongjoong’s high, cracked moans became haggard and whiny as he came. The hot sensation you loved more than anything filled your sex. Hongjoong always fucked it back into you, hardly letting any of it come out onto the bed.

Your saliva wore off soon enough. You could tell in the way their muscles relaxed, and they grew steadily quiet. Each of them fell onto the bed, resembling puddles of jelly rather than men. While they recover, you let yourself sink into exhaustion. You became aware of the fluids on you, and you used the covers to wipe what you could with limp arms. As you wiped your chin, a long-fingered hand reached out to you with a handkerchief. It smelled of butterscotch, sweet and faint on the cloth. Yunho. You saw him inches from you, grinning sleepily as he wiped you down. You stayed still to let him continue. Another hand reached your thighs, cinnamon wafting from where Hongjoong laid. He kissed your thighs, sliding his hand tenderly over your gushing pussy. 

None of you said anything. You did not need to. Yunho pecked your cheeks, your nose and neck while his fingers danced along your side. Hongjoong laid passed out near your feet, dead as far as the world was concerned. 

“You really think I’m a goddess?” you asked curiously, not sure whether it was sweet words said under heated passion. 

“I do,” he said. “You must be one to be Lilith’s blood for certain. Whenever I see you, I find it hard to look away from you. It’s been that way since I first saw you. When I saw you standing in the sitting room, the fire behind you, wearing that ridiculous succubus costume, you enchanted me. I kept my distance because you belonged to my masters, but now…I don’t believe I can stay away.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. Who else will worship me then?” you teased, which made him laugh. 

“Plenty of people around here already do. Though, I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t be the first in line.”

The two of you giggled, and you finally gave into your exhaustion. 

*****

“You’re telling me you drank a serum, and when YN kissed you, you got hard again?”

“Yup.” 

Hongjoong knocked back his afternoon drink in one shot. He poured himself another from the small wicker table. Tea time on Fridays gave them a chance to talk outside of the house. Hongjoong didn’t particularly care for it, but it’s part of the regular weekend routines.  

“I don’t know if that means the serum was weak or her potency is that strong. It was,” he huffed, “Insane. I just wanted to keep going like a damn rabbit. The shit’s addictive. I mean, you should’ve seen Yunho. He got harder than me. I didn’t think he could do that.”

Hongjoong watched his brother rub his chin. His “thinking face”, San calls it. “We’d need to test it further.”

“Hey, she’s not a test subject,” San, sitting in the middle, cut him off. “She’s YN. She might’ve been our slave at one point, but she’s not now. She’s my Darling and I won’t let you poke at her like some kind of lab rat.” 

“If she isn’t interested, then I won’t do anything, but she must be curious. I know I am. I know you two are too.” He straightened up in his chair, no longer interested in the spread beside him. “Maybe I can call that slaver from the Scarlet Silk. He can bring something for us to work with.”

“If YN wants to, that is,” he said. 

“Yes, of course. Do you know if she’s awake ye-”

“-I think we’re alone now. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around,” your singing voice came from behind a nearby hedge. “I think we’re alone now. The beating of our hearts is the only sound-”

“-You have a lovely voice, Mistress,” Yunho’s voice came after. “Where’d you learn to sing like that?”

“I started singing with my mom, then I guess working with Yeosang helped too. Don’t tell him I said that, though,” you told him quickly. “We used to sing together in the garden all the time. Oh, hey,” you came from around an entryway with a smile, “Here you guys are.”

“Afternoon, Darling,” San grinned. “You look beautiful today.”

You wore the yellow wrap-around dress today. Wooyoung’s collection of 80’s fashion impressed you greatly, and Hongjoong liked the change. All of your changes delighted him. The keep felt so dead and cold. You’d brought life back into the house, and he couldn’t help admiring that. 

Maybe you are some kind of goddess after all. 

***

A/N: talk about smut from end to end lol we're finding out more about Lady every day. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to give it a reblog and a like <3

[666soulz]

rapper!connie first run in with fashionvlogger!reader was…interesting. you answered a question from a fan on twitter who asked if you could style one rapper who would it be? you replied saying, ‘connie springer, his music don’t match his style. he dressing like a regular hood nigga when he should be dressing like a bad bitch with a dark lair. pisses me off.’

eren snorted when he seen the tweet and sent it to connie. at first he was a little offended and was about to clean you right on up, but when he saw the comments agreeing??? he had to find out why your opinion mattered so much. so the the first thing he did was tap that instagram link. 550k followers. hmm. he seen that plenty of his celebrity mutuals followed you. 

                           hollowsoul

followed by thegirljt, gunna, liluzivert and others. 

when he tapped on your pinned photo he almost drooled at your beauty, your body, and the outfit you were wearing.  you indeed had that shit on to the T. connie caught himself scrolling through your feed as his anemic ass shook ice into his mouth. you sure did have a love for all black outfits. 

he taps on that message button and types in two words. ‘style me’ 

your phone lights up as you stir around the meat in the pan. you put your glass of wine down to pick up your phone. 

instagram 

new message 

you tap on the notification and it takes you to the dm. you didn’t really have a shocked reaction, but you were surprised that he even bothered to to dm you. connie was semi private. he has moments where he’s very active on social media then he becomes a ghost. 

‘sure long as your okay with me vlogging’

connie puts his cup of ice down beside his feet warning his dog, Choppo, to not touch before replying to you. 

‘i don’t mind. you free on friday?’

   ‘i am’

ight let’s meet at the outlet mall on Lafayette @ 1 then. you mind if me, my friends, and security come?

 okay sounds good and i don’t mind at all.  see you on friday x

trust me you were less boring in person. connie was lacking in first impression as he was late to you guys shopping date. 

you didn’t mind though, you were right in dior trying on sunglasses. “how these look y’all?” you ask your camera. “i don’t know they’re kinda cunt..” you say looking in the small mirror. you didn’t even notice connie and his crew walking in and walking towards you. 

“i like them.”

you look behind you, seeing connie and his friends. connie took you in while you were distracted and you were better in person. you were in an all black outfit, of course, and you looked fucking beautiful. 

“they’re cute right?” you smile looking up at the 6’1 FINE ass dominican man. one thing that  also irritated you about connie’s style is that it doesn’t emphasize his face. connie face card was something different. He had beautiful features, hazel eyes, low lids, some pretty plump lips, and he was pulling off a buzz cut like david beckham in the 2000’s. not many people can do that. 

“yeah, sorry I was late. had to drop my sister off to her dance practice.” connie says you wave him off, “oh I'm not worried about it. it gave me time to think of what stores i want to go to.” you say taking your glasses off. “hey it’s nice to meet y’all,” you said looking at the two men behind connie. eren and ony. they weren’t a group but they put out some collab albums. those albums were heat, and was always playing when you were working out or cleaning. 

“we’re starting here by the way. can’t go wrong with dior. do you have a favorite fashion brand or designer?” you ask connie as you walked over to the men’s section. 

“uhm nike?”

“nike..? you know what i’m just..i’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that.“ you say shaking your head in disappointment. ony was laughing to himself in the background cause he could hear it in your voice. 

“what’s wrong with nike?” connie smiles as you picked up a dior sweater. “well first off all nike is a sports brand i’m talking about a fashion brand like rick owens, true religion, moschino. 

“what’s a moschino?” connie scrunches his face and he was dead serious. 

“do you know who jeremy scott is? law roach?”

“are these random white people?”

you looked at connie like he was a little lost baby, pouting your glossy lips. “aw you are so cute.” you pinch his cheek. “this is my favorite part. teaching you the ins and out of fashion.” you smile pushing an outfit into his chest. “go try this on.”

connie found out that you were a bossy little thing. if he didn’t like something, “oh well too bad you’re getting it anyways.” ony and eren enjoyed seeing him get bossed around as he was usually the demanding one in the studio. you had fun telling connie stuff about fashion and how to put together a good outfit. 

connie left that outlet with a new wardrobe, friend, and crush. a very big crush that his friends noticed. the way connie blushed like some nerdy school boy every time you’d hype him up. you noticed as well and found it absolutely adorable. 

“do that lil pose that you do. period!” 

you enjoyed Connie's presence. He was a mix between laidback and hyper. like when he got comfortable around you, he got to cracking jokes. even joking you. picking up some ugly ass cowgirl boots and saying, “this looks like something you’d like.” and you’d just give him a little playful glare telling him to not play with you. 

you left Connie with a homework assignment. learn how to use pinterest and make a pinterest board. 

[chosopie]

SUGAR BABY - TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji loves a woman with big bills.

You came from a family of lawyers who owned a big law firm in the city. Your whole life had already been set the moment you were born, and like the rest of your family, you became a lawyer who could easily earn six figures like it just falls from the tree in your huge backyard.

Currently, you were still in law school when you met Toji from a bar.

“Where do you think you’re going, bastard?” The security yelled, using all his efforts to push the big muscular man away from the door. “If you’re gonna drink here, make sure you can pay the fucking bill.”

“I’ll handle it,” you tapped the security guard, waving your card at him. “It’s on me.” You winked at Toji, and in return, he flashed you a wide and cunning grin.

“Damn, lady. Do I know you?” Toji asked.

“No, but let’s change that.” You smile back.

Every Friday night, you’d meet up at the same bar and you’d always treat him to drinks and food. As you both grew closer, you’d meet up at other places like the mall so he could watch you shop.

“Do you want anything?” You’d ask while your eyes remained fixated at the handbag you were checking.

“Why do you ask? Are you going to buy me something?”

“Yes. Just show me,” you nonchalantly said like you could buy the whole store with the wave of your black card.

Toji’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open. “Anything?”

“Yep.”

In the end, you ended up buying a Rolex for him.

“How could I ever repay you?” Toji thought.

There was one thing Toji was proud to offer you—his cock. He was very much aware of how much he was packing. He had a generous length and girth that would surely satisfy you once you get used to its size. It was a perfect gift for you.

His offer was to let you use his dick to get off. He became your sex toy or personal dildo. You’d ride him at your own pace while all he did was watch in amusement. He would occasionally run his big calloused hands over your waist or help you go up and down on his cock when your thighs start shaking form exhaustion.

“You like being used like this?” You teased.

“Yeah, so when am I getting my car?” He groaned as you rode him at a slow and agonizing pace.

“I already told you, the newest model will be coming next week. Be patient or I’m not letting you cum anymore,” you warned him through gritted teeth. You hissed at the feeling of him stretching you out.

Other times, he’d pester you in a special way in order to get what he wanted. His face would be buried between your thighs, tongue slowly lapping at your wet cunt like a kitten.

“Baby… my co-worker Shiu has these new Ferragamo’s. Can I get those too?” He lowly said, his breath fanning your pussy.

“If you can make me cum four times then, maybe I’d let you.”

With his skilled tongue, he was able to fulfill his task, leaving you breathless and shaking.

When you would come home stressed from work, you’d let him fuck you and do all the work. Toji was a person-pleaser when it came to you. It wasn’t just for the gifts and money, but also because he was a sucker for your sweet praises.

“This fine?” He picks a medium and consistent pace, giving you room to ease up around his dick.

“Mhm,” you’d hum in response, your eyes closed as you quickly fell into a relaxed and satisfied state.

Toji was quite the company. He was a pretty thing to look at and his dick worked magic for you. You were definitely going to keep him around for a long time. After all, he was quite the investment.

[alanaaii]

Shopping w connie.☆

!plug connie & ur just a spoiled brat.

nsfw. car sex.

“ma you know what you wearing friday?” You shook your head, scrolling on your phone. You and connie were suppose to go on one of your monthly dates this week but your closet just wasn’t giving. “I don’t have s-h-i-t in my closet.” You pull the blanket that you and connie shared on the couch. “that mean i gotta take you shopping?”

You knew what that meant—a full day with connie with no distractions. All about you you and you. Finally deciding to get up and start the day, you took a warm shower and got dressed. Sliding on some black leggings and an essentials hoodie. As you did your edges in the mirror, connie came behind you and snuck his cold fingers up your hoodie.

“connn your hands are cold” you whined as you shuffled to get his hands out. “I just wanna feel you mama”. You turn around and push his hands out. “you can feel on me when i get the stuff i want”. You was a big brat. “come on then” You and connie headed out to his all black tinted BMW. He opened the door for you as you hopped up into the passenger seat. He sat on his side and started the car and made his way to the mall.

Once y’all get there, one hand is entangled with connie’s surprisingly bigger hand and your cute pink purse in the other. “where to first ma?”

you pull connie to your favorite store.

Your eyes glowed as you saw the expensive shoes and clothes on the walls.

“pa do i have a limit?” You looked up at him, batting your pretty eyes. You knew connie would spend every last penny he had on you if it meant you would be happy. “go crazy”

And you did just that. Picking up any cute pair of jeans and putting some scandalous things for connie to see you in later. Once you were done you let the woman behind the counter scan all of your stuff. “girl i know your man love you”

All you could do was smile as connie took out a band and began to pay the total.

He grabbed your bags as you make your way out of the store. “thank you papi”. Standing on your tippy toes, you give him a small peck on his lips. “anything for you mama”.

The rest of the day consisted of you putting things in connie’s hands and him buying it.

As you two headed to the car connie was overloaded with bags. “damn ma you about to make me go broke” He huffed as he put the bags into the trunk. You were sitting in the passenger seat sipping your smoothie that you got from the food court.

As he got into opposite side, you put your hand on his perfectly tatted arm, softly rubbing it. “i’m sorry, everything was just soo pretty”. you pout. “let me make it up to you pa” You dragged your hand from his arm to his pants, feeling him stiffen at your touch. Since his car was heavily tinted nobody could see anything. (this is how you got away with everything ;) )

As you leaned into him you pressed your freshly glossed lips into his pink ones. Slowly pushing your tongue into his mouth. You snuck your hands into connie’s sweatpants and pulled out his already erected dick. His tip already moist from the precum you wrap your hand around his dick and pressed your thumb on his tip, circling it. You slowly break the kiss—a string of saliva still connecting you two.

Dipping your head down to spit on the tip before you wrap your mouth around it. Connie bit on his bottom lip, holding in his grunts. Bobbing your head up and down slowly—making those sloppy wet sounds connie adored.

Connie began to thrust his hips into your mouth. forcing you to take him down your throat, gagging on his length. “Fuck maa..jus like that..” He said in his deep raspy voice that had you weak in the knees. You feel him pulse. You knew he was close so you got on your knees and began to give him that gawk gawk combo using your hand and your mouth.

Connie slapped your ass before putting his hand in your leggings. he slid your panties to the side and rubbed your soaking wet cunt, satisfying the heat that was in your core. His long fingers prompting you go moan on his dick, the vibrations overwhelming connie. He couldn’t hold it. “‘m bout to cum ma”

He took his fingers out of you and grabbed onto your head, pushing your head down as he painted your mouth white. He groaned. “that’s my girl.”

you took one big gulp as the bitterness went away. You lifted your head up and looked at your phone camera. Ruined makeup, sweated out edges and all. “Come sit on it mama” He said lowly as he reclined his seat back.

Sliding your pants off but keeping your panties on, you move over to connie’s side and gently slid down on his dick. He grunt as he feels your gushy walls suck him in. You position yourself before you completely lose yourself. You hold onto connie’s shoulders to keep stable before starting to move. Up and down the sound of your ass clapping against connie’s thighs was like music to his ears. You desperately bounced on him, your juices dripping on the seat. (connie doesn’t mind.) You feel your cunt clench around connie as you felt his thumb rub your clit. This man knew how to make you orgasm quick. It’s like he knew every part of you like the back of his hand. Moaning his name, he put his hands around your waist and pushed you down onto him. “fuckkk”

“you gon’ cum on me mama? huh?”

You could feel your knees about to give up on you as your orgasm was coming. One final thrust and you came all over his dick. Your cum making a ring at the bottom of connie’s dick as you rode out your high. Connie press his lips onto yours to suppress your loud moans as you came down.

“i love you ma”

“i love you too con”

“another round at home?”

Likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciated!

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: YOU GOT ERRANDS TO RUN? NOT WITH THEM, YOU DON’T! (18+) (JJK) (For Black!Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: Got this idea out of nowhere lol. Enjoy! -Jazz

********

TOJI

Don’t ever expect to get anything done with this nigga around.

I'm serious. You can't get anything done when this man is in your house or apartment.

You try to cook? He'll bend you over the counter and let that bitch in the pan or stove burn.

You need to do your laundry? He'll "help" you put your load in the washer machine before putting his own "load" deep in your pussy or all over your ass while you're bent over the dryer.

You have to go grocery shopping? Okay! He'll drive you there and play with your pussy while steering with the other hand.

Case in point, you wake up one morning at around 7AM on the dot, your ringtone going off which wakes the sleeping, sexy, toxic man lying next to you, naked from the night before as are you. You had invited Toji over for a Friday night smoke session knowing full well that it would end in you getting fucked.

And you did. Very good, might I add. Your legs still feel like jelly and your muscles ache from Toji putting you into twenty different positions to fuck you in, but you still have to hit the gym.

But as you shift in his big, beefy arms wrapped tight around you, they seem to get tighter, locking you against him. You groan tiredly. "Toji," you sigh. "C'mon, I gotta get up."

"Where you think you goin'?" he sleepily murmurs though his deep voice makes your stomach flutter. "I ain't fucked you yet. Mornin' sex is the best sex."

You roll your eyes, still struggling to take his arms from around you. "I thought you said high sex is," you giggle. He snorts into his pillow, scooting closer to begin kissing your back. "Babygirl, I say a lot of shit when I'm horny," he chuckles. "All sex is the best sex."

He then begins kissing up to your neck right behind your ear. Your weak spot. "Mmm," you softly moan, instinctively leaning your head back to give him more of your throat to kiss.

"Yeah?" he teasingly asks. "Now isn't this so much better than goin' wherever it is you were off to?"

"I have to go to the gym," you whimper in protest, pushing his face away from you. "C'mon, I've got a routine. You know this." You go to pry his arms off of you, but he stops you by suddenly moving on top of you.

"Toji, no!" you protest, irked by his full weight on top of you, keeping you locked underneath him. He smirks down at you, barely reacting to your pissed scowl. "Toji, yes," he chuckles. "Now c'mon, babydoll. Why go to the gym when I can train ya just fine?"

He leans down to begin assaulting your neck in kisses and nibbles that have your pussy waking up out of its slumber, especially when you feel his cock begin to stir against your inner thigh.

"And besides." He pauses, smirking at you. "I can make you sweat even more than one of those machines can."

And twenty minutes later, cutting right into your workout time, Toji makes do on his word and gives you his own workout by having you bounce on his cock while he fucks you back, his firm, thick thighs slapping against yours as he fucks you from below.

"Fuck, Toji, f-fuck me!" you whine from above him, your hands gripping the headboard for dear life as you sweat out your hair and your thighs burn.

"See, babydoll?" he pantingly chuckles from below you, his own toned body shining in sweat. "Told ya I could make ya sweat more."

GOJO

Like Toji, this blue-eyed bitch is one horny bastard. And an attention whore.

Satoru swears he is dying when you don't give him even an ounce of the attention he needs. You jokingly call him 'Tinkerbell' because of this. "She dies without attention too," you giggled to him.

"She's got the right idea," your goofy ass man said to you, his head in your lap while you played in his hair. "You've gotta give your romantic partners the attention they crave, baby. It's a part of life! It's the natural order of things!"

He practices this now, lying on your couch on his stomach, his long legs hanging off the edge. He watches you like a begging puppy as you scurry around your living room in your tight spandex shorts and sports bra, moving your Swiffer Wet Jet around your hardwood floor.

He whines at you, taking on the full persona of a dog, and you roll your eyes. He’s been wining ever since he got here and realized you were too busy cleaning before your lunch with Geto to give him any attention. "Stop whining, you big baby,” you huff, barely even looking at him.

Your golden retriever boyfriend sits up on your couch, exasperated and dramatic as always. "But I'm your big baby," he protests with a white-toothed smile and that adoring look in his blue eyes that always gets you. However, you ignore it and he withers. “C'mon, Y/N, baby! You've been wiping the damn floor for an hour now!"

"Satoru, you just got here ten minutes ago," you sigh, leaning against your Wet Jet. "I told you after I'm done the floor, we can go to lunch and meet up with Geto." You turn around and continue to mop, but that’s a big mistake.

Your man takes advantage of this position and wraps his arms around you from behind. “Can we go to lunch after I fuck you?" he suggests. "I can't eat when I'm this horny." He begins to kiss your neck as he presses his toned, hard front against your back, giving you a feel of his dick pushing through his hoochie daddy shorts.

He knew what the fuck he was doing wearing those things. “Gojo, no,” you moan. "C'mon, stop." You try to push him away, but he stops you, locking his arm tight around you.

“Then you stop bein' so sexy," he murmurs. "You knew what the fuck you were doin' when you decided to put these on, baby." His hands slide down your shorts, pushing them up higher so he can slip his fingers under them to caress your thighs.

You bite back a pleasured smile at his ministrations and swiftly smack his hands away. He mockingly hisses in pain, giving you a look of pure betrayal. “No, no, no," you firmly say. "You keep distracting me, you'll get no pussy later."

His expression deepens, his eyes wide like you just told him you’d kill him. “Babyyy!" he whines. "Don't be so cruel!" He then drops to his knees and grabs your hips, pushing his face into your stomach.

"Gojo," you sigh, though you also giggle. "Now how am I supposed to wipe the floor like this?"

You put your hand in his hair, playing with the white locks as he begins to kiss your stomach and sides. You bite back a moan, hating him for how good his lips feel. "Alright, fine!" you huff. He looks up at you and grins like a kid on Christmas Day, finally breaking you. “I'll stop for five minutes so we can make out, but ONLY making out. Nothing else, got it?"

"Got it," he replies, knowing damn well he is lying.

Fifteen minutes later, his head is between your thighs and your mouth is locked around his cock. You sit on top of him, straddling his face with your thick, delicious thighs that Gojo can’t get enough of. He grips them, closing them around his ears as he sucks and slurps on your sobbing, wet, puffy cunt. Your shorts have been discarded, your panties are pulled aside, and your sports bra is peeled up to reveal your juicy tits that you rub against his abs to stimulate your nipples.

Your mouth goes up, down, up, down, bobbing in rhythm to take his thick, veiny shaft down your throat, his pulsing head touching the back of your throat and making you gag. The lewd sounds and your saliva dripping from your mouth seem to make Gojo go feral.

He begins to eat your pussy even sloppier, moaning into your hole as he does so. You moan and whimper around his cock, struggling to keep rhythm. You’re sure you’re about to cum until you hear your phone ring from behind you, sitting up on the couch arm. You pop Gojo’s dick out of your mouth, the beautiful shaft glistening in spit. "'T-Tarou," you stammer. "Mmm, baby! The phone! It's Geto!"

Gojo tears himself away from your pussy, his mouth coated in your juices and his own spit. "I've got it," he growls. "Don't stop suckin' my cock." He reaches down to push your head back down onto him just as he answers your phone. "Yeah?" he asks right before he moans out, "Fuck, babygirl, yes!"

You hear Geto sigh on the other line and you glare back at Gojo when you realize he put the call on speaker. This motherfucker! “I called at a very bad time, obviously," Geto sighs. "I should've known since you answered Y/N's phone instead of her."

"Gojo, stop!" you yell, but you're cut off by a moan as Gojo begins playing with your clit. "Sorry, Sugu, but Y/N and I are gonna be a little late,” he smugly replies, watching you grind your hips and that gorgeous ass onto his fingers. “Is 2PM a better time?"

"Sure," Geto sighs. "Just for God's sake, make sure you get this all out now because I don't wanna watch you two eye fuck at lunch." You flush with embarrassment, thinking of what he’ll think once you’re actually sitting across from him at lunch.

Gojo laughs, taking his fingers away and sucking on them. "Gotchu," he chuckles. "Now unless you wanna listen to me fuck my girl's brains out, I suggest you hang up."

In one swift motion, he grabs your hips, tosses you down onto the couch on your hands and knees, and moves behind you. You squeak at the sudden movement and his strength, aroused by the fact that he’s fast and so strong.

Tossing your phone away, Gojo taps his cock against your begging pussy lips, emitting a moan from both of you, much to Geto’s dismay. "You two are disgusting," he scoffs before he hangs up right as Gojo begins to piston into you from behind.

You gasp as his thick cock slides into you and quickly begins to stroke your insides, pleasurable tingles surging from your clit the more he hits your shit dead on from the back. You grip the arm of the couch for dear life as his hands spank your ass, the burst of pain shocking you like electricity as your ass bounces against him and your titties jiggle with every thrust. “God, ‘Tarou, yes!” you yelp. “Yes, right there! Do it right there!”

Gojo wraps a hand around your hair, grinning down at the slut that has taken your place. "You still got those motherfuckin' errands to run?" he demands. You shake your head desperately, whimpering. “Huh?” He teasingly asks, yanking on your hair. “I can't hear you, mama. Tell me what you're doin' right now."

You don’t answer for a while, too busy moaning and sobbing in pleasure about his dick to do so. But when you finally feel that knot tightening and snapping in your core and your pussy spasm around your boyfriend’s cock, you do answer: "Cumming!" you sob. "I-I'm cumming!"

GETO

Suguru is a little more understanding than the other two, especially as a single father, but when you get him in that particular mood, it’s harder to see you go.

He lays on his side under his sheets, one elbow propped up to hold up his head as he watches you sit on the edge of his bed. He frowns as you pull your jeans up over your thick thighs and luscious ass covered in love bites that he gave you last night. “Do you really have to leave me this morning, precious?" he tuts. "I just think you need at least another couple of minutes of rest."

You look at him over your shoulder, drinking in how sexy he looks with the sunlight pouring in through the bedroom window. It illuminates his tanned skin and muscles, turning his long, black longs into spun gold that cascade down his back and shoulders.

You had come over after working a Sunday shift to spend time with him and his daughters, Mimiko and Nanako, as you frequently did since Geto lives so close to your workplace. He cooked a delicious hibachi dinner for you, played Disney movies, and after he put the girls to bed, retreated with you to his bedroom to put your ass through his mattress and make you cum a good four times throughout the sleepless night.

But now that night has ended and you must go back to reality, which means leaving and running your errands for Monday morning before your night shift. "By rest, you mean cuddling with you," you giggle. Geto purses his lips at you, about to argue. “Well...yes."

You laugh at his quickness to give up on an argument and scoot closer to him in your jeans and bra. He opens his arms for you immediately, wrapping them around you. "Baby, you have to go to work in an hour and take your daughters to school." You run a hand through his hair, making him close his eyes and relax under your touch. “Meanwhile, my dog needs his walk, I have to pick up my dry cleaning, and I need to deep clean my bedroom."

His eyes clench tightly at the mention of your list your stupid errands. "Can't all of that wait until we get some time together?" he sighs. He opens his eyes, the same ones you stared into while he filled you up and made you cum last night, and presses a kiss to your hand. “Daddy needs his kisses too."

You instantly feel your body react—your heart thumping and your pussy excitedly throbbing—at the mention of your favorite nickname for him. You just love it when he refers to himself as ‘Daddy’ in the third person and he knows that. But you also know that he goes insane when you call him that too.

So you lean in and press a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Daddy will get his kisses later," you whisper, much to his dismay. “But he can watch his girl get dressed."

You jump off of the bed before he can snatch you back up and slowly, tantalizingly begin to put on and button your blouse that he ripped off of you last night. You stare at him through your lashes as you do, leaning forward to give him a view of your titties in your lace bra.

Geto bites his lip at the sight of you, the little reverse strip tease causing a tent to form under the sheets. "You little tease," he exhales. "You keep doin' that and you won't be gettin' out of here."

You raise a brow at his warning, pausing from buttoning your blouse. "Oh?" you teasingly ask. "And how the fuck you gon' do that? Tie me up?" You laugh at your joke, thinking he’s not serious, but Geto only smirks at you. Instantly, you regret pushing him.

If there is one thing about Geto Suguru, he is dead serious about everything, including backing up his shit talk in the bedroom. It doesn’t take long for him to have you naked and wrapped up tight in his arms while you toss your ass into him from behind, your hands pressed against the headboard. You have to do your very best to keep your moans down as he pistons himself into you, his cock and his fingers stimulating your clit, causing your pussy to drip and grip around him.

"How's this for tyin' you up?" he grunts into your ear. "No rope can hold you tighter than I can. You like this, mama?"

You don’t have to give an answer—your body is responding just as he wants with your soaked pussy squelching and squeezing around him, even more so as he rubs your clit with his calloused fingers. But you find yourself giving a verbal answer anyway: "God, Sugu, yes!" you whine. "Yes, I fuckin' love it!"

"Daddy?" a sudden small voice asks along with a knock. Geto immediately covers your mouth and slows his pistoning hips, but doesn't stop rolling them. He continues to slowly fuck you but presses a finger to his lips. "Yeah, Mimiko, baby?" he calls, keeping his voice steady despite still dicking you down.

"I'm hungry!" Mimiko whines from behind the door. "Can you cook breakfast now?"

"In a minute, buttercup," Geto replies. "Daddy is busy helpin' Y/N out with somethin'. Wait till I'm done, okay, pumpkin?" He takes your hand off of the headboard and places it on your pussy, coaxing you to rub it in time with his quickening thrusts.

Though Mimiko whines in protest at waiting for her food, she listens to her father anyway. "Okay," she replies and wanders off.

Once she's gone, Geto sighs in relief and gives you an apologetic smile. "Guess this is tunin' into a quickie," he chuckles. "Don't worry, mama, I've gotchu. Just hold onto the headboard 'cause I'm not goin' slow."

He begins to beat your pussy up just the way you need him to, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your pussy tightens around him, signaling the oncoming of your orgasm just as your phone alert begins to ring. "Sugu, m-my dry cleaning!" you sob. "I've got to-"

But Geto silences you with a sloppy kiss. "Fuck your dry cleaning," he grunts. "You better cum for me if you wanna get outta here in time, baby."

Luckily, you do and gush all around your man's thick cock while he cums on your ass, but you're late to pick up your dry cleaning.

NANAMI

Kento understands the struggles and responsibilities of adulting….but there’s just something about your sundress.

He had agreed to go with you to a farmers market in the city that finally returned for the season when he took a special interest in how you're dressed. "Sweetie, are you ready yet?" he calls from your bedroom. "I thought you said we have to be there early before it gets crowded."

You check your hair and outfit once more before you quickly prance out of the bathroom to your bedroom. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" you shout. "Sorry, I had trouble pullin' up the zipper to my..."

You stop talking immediately, noticing the way Nanami is staring at you from the middle of the room. His eyes are slightly widened and his lips are parted as he gazes at you. "What's wrong?" you worriedly ask. "Are my nipples showing?"

"No, no," he quickly replies. "You're fine, but...is that what you're wearing to the farmer's market today?"

He points at your floral-printed sundress with its spaghetti straps and hemline that stops at your knees, giving him a sneaky peek at your thighs. Your beautiful legs trail down to the slides and gold anklet you wear to bring the outfit to a cute close.

"Well, yeah!" you giggle. "It's warm today and I thought I'd look cute in it, don'tcha think?" You swish your hips, causing the ruffle of your dress to swish tantalizing around your legs and waist. Nanami watches, a blush suddenly coating his cheeks.

"Erm...w-well, yes." He pauses to clear his throat. "Yes, it's very...very..." He stops, swallowing hard. You stop, nervous about his weird reaction to your fit. "What?" you somberly ask. "Do you not like it?"

Nanami places his hands on his slim hips, visibly frustrated and flustered. "No, I don't like it," he replies. "I fucking love it and that's the problem. You look so damn good in that, I just wanna say fuck the market and fuck you."

You are gobsmacked by Nanami's dirty confession. Hearing your usually calm and collected gentleman look so desperate and sound so vulgar makes your stomach flutter and your nipples instantly harden. "W-Well, thank you, baby," you giggle, flushing shyly. "I wouldn't say no to that if I didn't want some fresh flowers, herbs, and organic strawberries."

Nanami nods, knowing how much you love fresh produce for your diet and herbs for your kitchen. "You're right," he sighs. "I shouldn't be thinking like this when you have an errand to run. After all, this is for your groceries."

"Yeah!" you agree because this is the adult thing to do. "It's better if we leave now and come back to this later." You pivot on your foot with your mini bag dangling from your fingers, but you don't realize that it's unzipped until your phone falls out and clatters to the floor.

"Shit!" you gasp and immediately bend over to pick it up. You also don't realize how short your sundress is. When you bend over, you unintentionally give Nanami an eyeful of your delectable asscheeks and the panties you're wearing for the day.

Nanami's cock instantly surges to life and he can't control himself anymore. As you stand up straight, he immediately grabs you from behind and presses you against the wall. "Ken!" you gasp. "Baby, what are you-"

You pause when you feel his hard-on pressing against you from behind through his jeans. "I'm sorry, darling," he ruggedly says in your ear. "But I don't think I can wait till after the shopping. I need you now."

His big hands coax you to bend forward, your ass sticking out, and brace your hands against the wall, your bag falling to the ground. He lifts up your dress to reveal your panties and thighs where he begins to litter both in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

"B-But, baby!" you moan. "But...fuck, Kento! B-But the strawberries-"

"Will be there," he finishes. "All you need to worry about now is us and you cumming." He stops and holds your eyes with his as you look back at him. "Am I clear?" he firmly asks and then moves your panties to the side to reveal your pretty pussy to him.

"Yes, sir!" you whine as he begins to gently run his fingers over your slit.

"Good girl," he chuckles and his tongue steals all your thoughts of fresh produce and flowers away.

CHOSO

He’ll do and say anything to keep your ass with him.

Choso is usually aloof to a lot of things and people, but not to you. You are the only one he'd like to see every day, all the time.

He makes that known by calling and texting you throughout the day, surprising you at your crib with flowers and food you like; staying the weekend, and inviting you over to his place when you're free.

He wants you all the time. Work and other shit be damned...including errands. He will protest and argue you into the ground whenever you tell him you need to go run your errands for the day.

You need to go grocery shopping? He'll lock his arms tight around you, knowing that you can't get free. "Choso, no," you'd giggle in protest. "I have to get groceries."

"Just five more minutes," he'd mumble. "It's cold in here." Despite your room being toasty warm.

You need to go work out? He'll promise to cook for you just to have to stay. "Choso, I have to go to Pilates," you'd say.

"But I'm making coffee," he'd reply, giving you a saddened look that made him look adorable with his spiked ponytails. "C'mon, mama, you can show up a little late, can't you?"

Now isn't any different. Your alarm goes off, you go to get up, and your man tightens his grip on you. He goes to say something, but you put your hand in his face. "Uh-uh," you say. "No excuses this time. I need to go to Target and Smoothie King before my class today."

He picks his head up from the pillow, a cute scowl on his face and his black hair messily all over his head. "What's at Smoothie King?" he curiously asks.

"My Morning Mango Blast smoothie, of course!" you reply. He blinks at you, wondering if you’re serious. "Errands!" you giggle as you peek back the covers and pick up your pajama bottoms from the floor.

"Smoothie King is your errand?" he snorts, rolling his eyes. “I'll never understand you women."

"You don't have to," you shoot back. "Not entirely." As you pull your bottoms up, you stick your ass out, teasingly giving him a shot of your panties before they disappear under your shorts.

As you go to fetch some clothes, Choso grabs your arm. “Not so fast," he says in a sleepy, teasing drawl. You turn, seeing that he has become hard from under the sheets.

“Nooo," you groan. "Not again! What is it with you and not wantin' me to run my errands?" You let him pull you close, giggling as his lips begin to caress your neck. “You can go to Target and get your smoothie at any time," he argues. "Your class starts at 11 AM which means we got about..." "

He pauses to look at his watch. LThree hours till you're out of commission." He goes back to kissing you, his hands caressing your back and sides.

You moan at his pleasurable kissing and touching, but you know you can’t fall victim to his trap. "No, Choso," you sigh. "I don't have the time, okay? I've got errands to run."

Choso picks his head up from your chest to stare at you, his eyes stern. “No, you don't," he argues.

You cock your head at him, pursing your lips. Your attitude can’t be contained unfortunately. "Says who?" you scoff.

He sits up, exciting you with how demanding he’s become. “Says your man," he replies. "And I say your gonna leave your Target run and smoothie for later so I can pay."

Your pussy practically turns into a faucet. Nothing turns you on more than your boo telling you he’ll take care of you, but you’re not going to give up that easily.

You cross your arms over your chest, standing tall on your decision. "And what are you gonna do if I say no?" you challenge.

At the sight of Choso’s pierced brow twitching, you know you got to him. And minutes later, he gets to you by spreading you on your mattress and slurping up your pussy, your juices spilling out onto the sheets and down your chin. His tatted hands pin your thighs to the bed, his fingers digging into them as his pierced tongue rapidly moves across your slit, his nose nudging against your clit.

"God, Choso, yes!" you whine. "Please right there! Right fuckin' there, baby!” You can't keep your voice down nor stop your hips from rolling, all thoughts of errands gone. The only thing you are now focused on is cumming.

Being the soft yet demanding Dom that your boyfriend is, he picks his head up to look at you from between your thighs and rubs your clit with his index and middle fingers at the rapid pace and pressure you love. “Now what is it you had to do today?” he asks.

“Nothing!” you whimper, your toes curling and your hands balling into fists on the bedsheets. “I-I don’t have to do anything!” Choso leans in and begins pressing kisses to your clit as he slowly slides his fingers inside of you, curling upwards.

“So you’re gonna stay with me?” he pushes. “You’re not gonna worry about any of that shit, are you, baby?” He wraps his cushiony, soft lips on your desperate clit again which begins throbbing in time with the strokes of his fingers inside of you.

“N-No!” you stammer. “Oh, shit, Choso, I’m gonna cum!” It doesn't take long so Choso doesn't slow down or speed up, not stopping until you gush all over his fingers and pierced tongue. He greedily, eagerly cleans you up, even sliding his tongue between your ass crack, before you are a whimpering, over-stimulated mess.

He then lays down beside you and grabs his phone while you stare at him, starry-eyed and winded. He silently opens the app store and downloads the Smoothie King app on his phone.

"So what smoothie did you say you wanted?" he asks. You damn near suck the skin off of his dick afterwards.

INO

He’ll go with you to do an errand run but don’t act shocked if he pulls his dick out and tries to do you in the car.

Ino is one horny motherfucker...especially when it comes to your fine ass! You could wear a damn clown costume and he'd get rock for you. He thinks you're the most beautiful, sexiest woman he's ever met and to fuck you any chance he gets is a privilege he intends to take advantage of.

Even when you're busy. While Ino doesn't like to bother you when you have things to do, he does like to tease you. An errand run is just the place to do it. But he quickly realizes that you're doing the teasing despite not doing anything remotely sexual as you shop for groceries at your favorite supermarket with him tagging along

"God, you look so good in these fuckin' shorts, sugar," he groans, watching your ass move in your teeny tiny shorts. “ You did this on purpose." His eyes are glued to each cheek jiggling and moving when he should be helping you look for fresh produce for your fridge.

You realize that it was a bad idea to bring him along grocery shopping because of how horny he is. "Maybe," you giggle, picking up an orange and squeezing it lightly to check if it's ripe. "I'm not gonna wear sweats in 89-degree weather, Ino."

You turn to him as he trails behind you in his denim shorts and loose tank top that exposes so much skin and muscle that you can feel the feral slut inside of you clawing to get out and suck his dick in the middle of the store.

"I would hope not, but goddamn, this isn't workin' out for me!" he whines, looking like he's in agony as you lead him over to the peaches and nectarines. "You've got your man completely down bad for you." He leans against the shelves, his eyes lustful and playful.

You smile, pressing a kiss sticky with gloss to his waiting lips. "I know," you purr and hand him the basket you're carrying. "Now help me pick out the ripest peach here." You turn around and bend over to grab a nectarine, unaware of the fact that your shorts sink between your asscheeks as you do.

"Oh, I found one," he says before squeezing your ass. You gasp, turning to move his hand away, but he stops you by moving closer to your body so no one notices. "Uh-uh, don't move. Don't wanna bruise it...yet."

"Ino, cut it out!" you hiss. "We're in public!" He scowls confusedly at you, pouting. “Da hell does that mean?" he asks. "That didn't stop you from wearin' these little hoochie shorts." His hand slinks down to toy with your shorts that make your shapely legs look even better to him.

"Hoochie shorts?" you scoff, finally moving his hand away. "And what are those?" You nod down at his pants that stop mid-thigh. "You tryin' to scoop up a horny mom with those on?"

He smiles at your raised eyebrow and your hand on your hip. "But you're my twinsie!" he jokes. "I had to match with you!" Your eyes snake back down to his thighs, imagining very naughty things about them all of a sudden. "Maybe that was a mistake," you whisper.

Unfortunately for you, you find a banana that isn't mixed with the ones located a foot away from you with the apples. Instead, this one is thicker, harder, and located between Ino's thighs which are quickly tightening the more he looks at you.

Ino presses against you and sneakily moves your hand to cup his hard-on, making you nervously smile at the risky move. "You wanna go to the car and take care of it for me?" he suggestively asks into your ear.

Feeling just as freaky and your pussy throbbing in your panties, you turn to him and push your tits up against his hard pecs, all peaches and nectarines forgotten. “What's in it for me?" you ask, raising a brow at him.

He shows you just what when he has you folded up like a pretzel in the backseat of his car an hour after you get your groceries, his long dick in your mouth and his fingers buried deep in your pussy. Your shorts and panties are somewhere in the front seats, your tits jiggling in your sports bra as you bob your head up and down Ino's length.

"Fuck, baby!" he moans, his voice bouncing off of the car walls, mingling with your lewd moans and gagging sounds as you deepthroat him. He gently slides himself out of your mouth, leaving you drooling and your chin coated in spit.

"Come the fuck here," he growls, pulling you off of him before yanking you on top of him. You squeak and brace your hands on the car ceiling right as he takes his cock and gently slides himself inside of you, emitting a moan of release from both of you.

He only gives you a few slow thrusts before the image of your soft ass bouncing against him gets to him and he begins to go faster and harder as you bounce on his cock. "Shit, Ino, yes!" you whine, gripping the car ceiling handles for dear life as he fucks the absolute shit out of you.

If anyone were to be inside the car, all they would hear are the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your ass clapping against Ino's pelvis, and soft pants and moans as you eagerly fuck each other.

But thank God the windows are soundproof.

Ino laughs as he grips your hips, continuing to drill into you from below. "Bet you'll be askin' me to go on errand runs again, huh, sugar?" he cackles.

[after-witch]

Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]

Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up. 

Word count: 17,510

Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse

Thursday

Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you don’t realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before it’s too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away. 

A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your mother’s purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs. 

They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life. 

It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but you’d never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didn’t want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.

Did it matter? You weren’t getting out anytime soon, anyway.

Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season. 

The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.

The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.

The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town you’ve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dad’s test results came back) it gets wearisome.

Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, you’d be stupid to deny that it’s more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner. 

That’s why you’ve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because it’s the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but they’re not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There aren’t gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because they’re parents didn’t understand the necessity of sunscreen; there aren’t groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.

It’s mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.

Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.

Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes. 

And over there--the early birds. They’ve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New  York. They’re attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and you’ve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more “authentic.’ 

Sure, there’s the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. He’s balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. They’ll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.

It’s time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably won’t ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip they’ll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and they’re spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago… he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.

It would have been terribly romantic. 

Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces. 

Maybe that’s why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.

With people watching in mind,  you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running. 

Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated during the day.

You don’t notice the stranger at first. It’s dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. What’s one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?

But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as… odd. He’s just standing there.

Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?

He’s wearing all black, and there’s some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but there’s something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.

What a creep. 

It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldn’t be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if they’d be drinking. 

Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild. 

So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but it’s not fair to waste a night of good weather.

Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.

Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists don’t bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isn’t lit-up and there’s no particular reason to head out this way. 

But you’d been to this beach in the evening before; you weren’t scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.

Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?

Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls out, penitent. “Did I scare you? I’m trying to get reception.” The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.

After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket. 

He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. “Are you all right? I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. “Um, yeah.” You laugh, an empty sound. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”

The moonlight doesn’t give you a clear view of the man’s features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. “Jumpy?”

The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.

“Someone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.” You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. “He was staring at me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.”

The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, weren’t you? Maybe the guy wasn’t even looking at you in the first place.

“Can I walk you back to the carnival? It doesn’t feel right to leave you here alone.” 

Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.

“No, that’s okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. I’m going home soon, anyway.” Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right? 

The man doesn’t turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.

“You want me to walk you back to the carnival,” he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman. 

Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway. 

You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.

Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, he’s not really a stranger, is he? 

And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. He’s cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark. 

Even if you weren’t familiar with most of the town’s residents in one way or another,  you’d know he was an outsider from the way he’s dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans… not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.

As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--”around.” He admits that he’s only in town for the carnival week. 

“I figured,” you say lightly enough.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that easy to tell?”

You put your hands into your pockets and look around you. 

“I mean, it’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.”

His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how it’s so charming in the first place.  “That makes sense.” He considers you for a moment. “You like to watch the tourists, then?”

You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.

“I like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,” and as you’re saying it, you don’t know why you’re telling him this so openly. “Sometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where they’re from or what they do or a backstory like they’re from a movie or whatever.” 

Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? You’ve got to get out of this town more.

But he doesn’t seem like he’s judging you. If anything, he looks interested. 

“And what would you imagine for me?”

The question is unexpected. 

“I think…” You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? He’d be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe? 

“I think you’re some sort of… librarian. Or a curator. A collector?” You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. “The point is, you’re traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought you’d take in some local culture.” You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. “But walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,” you add, with a cheeky grin. “To come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.” 

He doesn’t smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way. 

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “May I have yours?”

Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story. 

Maybe you shouldn’t give your name. But there’s a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.

I mean… a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? You’d be stupid to say no. 

So you give it. 

At that, he finally smiles again.

“Well, then,” he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope he’ll say it again in the future, “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

--

“Help! Someone help me! For God’s sake!”

Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasn’t loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.

He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes. 

His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness. 

Jake Jensen died screaming.

--

Friday

You tell yourself that you’re only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didn’t come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night. 

The sun has just set, and it’s a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner… Jake Jensen isn’t in his usual spot at the games, but maybe he’s sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.

“Hello again.”

Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.

“Hey,” you say, coolly, like you didn’t just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesn’t last long, but you fill it anyway. “You um, want some popcorn?”

But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like he’s never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?

Better to fill the silence again.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. “It’s my favorite because it’s fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.”

Chrollo hums in agreement. “I see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.” 

You decide on the spot that you’re going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. “No biggie. Buuut… you will owe me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh? And what will I owe you?”

It’s your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. “A ride on the Ferris wheel once it’s properly dark would be nice.”

A snort, though his nose. “I think I can manage that.”

He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.

Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. He’s great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse. 

You learn other things, too. Like, he’s a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesn’t interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear he’s not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows he’s actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere “private” like some other guys.

It’s nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town who’s so thoughtful.

The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and you’re one of the last rides of the night. 

When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. It’s a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.

But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.

“Are you scared?” Chrollo’s voice is low--you could swear he’s teasing, but there’s something else in there, too. 

“Yeah,” you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. “Of course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?”

Chrollo tilts his head. “You’d be dead.” 

You can’t help but grin. He’s so to-the-point sometimes. It’s charming in its own way, although you can’t exactly describe what “its own way” means with Chrollo. It’s like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.

“And I don’t want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.” 

Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. “No? How long do you want to live, then?”

The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe it’s not so bad. He’s good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place. 

Maybe it’s the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe it’s the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like you’re in some wonderful haze of a dream. 

Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.

“Long enough to achieve my dreams,” you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. “Whatever they might be. I haven’t figured them out yet.”

Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them. 

Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. He’s looking right at you, and it’s no mistake or figment of your imagination.

Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger. 

“There--look! Look!” 

Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.

But now--there’s no one there.

“What do you see?” He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.

“The man… the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.” Your chest hurts; fear hurts. 

Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.

“You’re all right. I’m here.” 

He holds your chin in his fingers. “You’re safe, do you understand?”

The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesn’t even seem strange that he’s touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand. 

Chrollo smiles. 

“Let me kiss you,” he says simply.

And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do? 

But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.

“Wait.” You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and he’s been so thoughtful all day, and now he’s here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.

A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all. 

“Yes,” you answer, simply. “I would.”

Chrollo’s finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind. 

--

The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.

Well, to the dying woman’s credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.

No one did.

Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me? 

The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.

This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth. 

Her husband didn’t seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--”Don’t fucking waste it, Uvo”--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.

The husband, like the wife, would be shared.

Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.

There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.

There would be enough to gorge.

--

Saturday:

Three people are dead. 

You didn’t know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.

Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--”Due to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,” said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the diner’s singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.

People die all the time. Sure. But…  dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd. 

Yet now, in one morning, there are three. 

Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.

And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.

“Mighta been a bear,” says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.

“I heard they were drained of blood!” Your head--and others’ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. It’s not a local. Someone who’s far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your diner’s less than stellar fruit salad option. He’s oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. “Two puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.”

Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.

Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.

If they were murdered--and it’s an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just don’t happen in your town--then… could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one who’s been following you around the carnival?

Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.

It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.

And you’d be seeing him again tonight.

They weren’t canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. It’s sad. But life is sad. 

You don’t want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasn’t the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that you’d flirted with back. He was the first one that you’d ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.

So.

You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight. 

And you can’t do that if you’re thinking about Jake Jensen’s body washing up on the beach or if there’s a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--

What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?

--

You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days. 

There’s no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, there’s room--your stomach growls--but you can’t imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrollo’s lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).

You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But that’s not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didn’t really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you can’t even focus on a hot date. 

Fuck. 

“Daydreaming again?” 

The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s hand on the first day of school. 

He’s holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar he’s holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.

Perhaps there’s bitterness in it, because as soon as you’re standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.

“Are you all right?” 

Well. You don’t want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldn’t it? It’s better to get it out of the way. 

“Sorry, it’s… I don’t know if you saw the news?” He says nothing, and you continue. “Those people that they found dead this morning.” Your lips press together. “I mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasn’t a jerk about it.”

Chrollo hums.

“I can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.” 

Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. “For you too though, right? I mean, it’s not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news. 

“Shit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?” A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.

“Something like that,” he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.” He looks at you a little curiously. “But I can see how it would rattle you.”

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.

“Come on.” Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. “I know what might take your mind off things.”

For once, you’re glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game. 

You’re even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isn’t so much “glory” as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.

Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadn’t been replaced in the many years you’d been coming here in the summer.

You tug on Chrollo’s arm and point the man out. “What do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thing…”

“I don’t doubt it.” Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesn’t linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival. 

The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes. 

You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and won’t go in.

“Are you scared?” You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.

But Chrollo doesn’t smile or laugh. “They make me dizzy,” he says, quietly. There’s something behind his words, but you don’t know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, you’re not sure. “Think nothing of it, dear.”

Dear.

You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again. 

This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him? 

It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose. 

He’s standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.

And he’s staring straight up at you.

You don’t think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: “There! He’s there! Look, look--look!” 

And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.

Your goosebumps remain.

“We should talk to the police,” you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.

Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The “Do you really think the police will do anything about this?” sort of look. 

“I’ve been thinking…” You squeeze Chrollo’s hand and he squeezes back and that’s all you need to keep going. “That maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?”

Chrollo’s eyes widen just a little. It’s both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if it’s only a bit. 

“I heard…” You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldn’t feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasn’t given you a reason to feel like you can’t tell him things. “Someone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe… like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I don’t know. But maybe they were killed.”

“Perhaps he’s a vampire,” Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. “Well. He wouldn’t be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?”

At least he didn’t say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.

He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I’ll inform the police,” he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing--to be watched and protected.

You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guy’s a killer, they’ll catch him. If he’s not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer.

Things will be normal soon.

When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you don’t mind, that is.”

You don’t mind at all. 

“Do you like trails?” You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. “It’d be a bit more private. As long as you’re not scared of the dark.”

Chrollo chuckles. It’s a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you. 

“I’m not if you aren’t,” is all he says, and that’s enough for you to point out the way.

Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights. 

“I’m surprised to see these,” Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since you’d been up here more times than you could count.

“Mm,” you murmur. “Locals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.” Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know about your high school escapades. “They added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.”

“Clever,” he says. 

--

The waterfall is loud when you’re this close; so loud you can’t hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that it’s lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though you’ve never been certain if it was a true story or not.

Regardless, you’re not sure you want to stay. No--you know you don’t want to stay. 

This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you don’t really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.

Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where there’s more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, you’re just being smart!) he won’t mind. 

“I think we should go back,” you say, but Chrollo can’t hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. “I think we should go back!”

You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, you’d rather wait until you’re back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.

“It’s all right,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. “You know that you’re safe with me. You don’t want to go back yet.”

How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didn’t even show him the best part yet.

“Come on!” It’s your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes. 

“Is there a cave?” Chrollo asks--and again, you’re struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you. 

“You sure know your way around local watering holes,” you jest. 

He merely smiles. “I travel a lot.”

With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.

The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadn’t been in for ages? The same reason why you’d spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didn’t brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.

Chrollo was so different from the others you’ve met at the summer carnival. 

Maybe that’s why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.

It’s just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.

It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening. 

But… it didn’t have to be the end of the evening, did it? 

You ask him, this time. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” 

“I do,” he says. “Very much so.”

This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.

--

Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags. 

Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.

Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monsters’ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water. 

“This is a lovely spot,” said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it.  “The waterfall adds a nice touch.” 

The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess. 

The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled. 

“It came highly recommended.” 

--

Sunday: The Final Day

Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought he’d be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.

Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex. 

You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.

But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room. 

Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didn’t he? Just like the others, just like--

But just when you’re about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.

Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand. 

Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in  your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note. 

Dear--

Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.

I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, won’t you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.

Of course he didn’t fuck and run. He wouldn’t do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.

The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didn’t tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.

It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.

But he didn’t, so you’re left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, that’s wrong.  That’s not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parent’s house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.

But… was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didn’t want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.

It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.

Although you don’t really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.

Somehow, you don’t believe that.  You just know. 

Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--

And if it was that same man… the one who was staring at you, stalking you… how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?

Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all. 

--

You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, it’s hard to feel too enthused. 

Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, he’ll see how nice it is here (it’s not) and maybe he’ll want to settle down (he won’t). 

Oh, how stupid. It’s like when you’d meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and you’d beg their parents together to extend their vacation.

It wasn’t going to happen. You’ll never see him again after tonight, and you’ll go your separate ways, and that’s that. 

Reality sucks sometimes.

You’re still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrollo’s now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of “your” plural. 

You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.

Chrollo, to your surprise, doesn’t smile back.

Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like they’re something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.

“You seem a bit sad,” he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. It’s not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and you’ll never see him again.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.

“I’m just sad that you’ll be leaving.” He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. “That we won’t see each other after tonight,” you clarify. 

You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, “We’ll just make the most of it.” 

Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.

“We don’t have to part, you know.”

It’s your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. “You could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?”

Chrollo finally smiles at you. 

“My life is flexible. But,” and now he pulls you up so that you’re standing. It’s a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--he’s stronger than he looks. “I was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.”

The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.

But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments. 

“What? You’re not serious.” You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like it’s plastered on and cracking underneath. There’s a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know that’s not what he’s talking about.

This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue. 

Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that you’re keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and he’s smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.

Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game. 

Chrollo’s voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming. 

“We can talk about it later, if you’d like. Let’s go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.” 

That would be nice.

“I’d like that.” 

And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesn’t take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.

If you weren’t so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.

--

The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. It’s nice, this extra time with him--it’ll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all. 

What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?

The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you can’t see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.

All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.

Chrollo’s grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says softly.

Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable “we’ll never see each other again but it was a blast” speech. You knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?

“Me too,” you say, and it’s not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was… well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didn’t even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.

He was good in bed, too, wasn’t he? You blink and realize you don’t actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasn’t there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--

It’s all fuzzy. But you weren’t drunk. So why--

“Have you thought about what I said?” He asks, and once again you’re pulled away from your thoughts, although this time you’d like to focus on them. Why couldn’t you fully remember last night?

When you don’t answer, he raises his eyebrows.

“About coming with me,” he says, a bit louder, as if you can’t hear him over the carnival din.

You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.

“You’re serious?” You don’t mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. “Sorry. I just--I didn’t know if you really meant it.”

“I am,” is all he says.

You didn’t like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because there’s some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.

“Chrollo, I can’t do that. I have a job here. A life.”

Chrollo doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense. 

“A job at a local diner slinging hash browns,” he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You can’t tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.

“Don’t you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?” One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. “You could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.” 

An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--

“My family,” you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that you’ve spoken. 

His lips press thinner. “You could write to them, call them. No matter at all.”

Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as he’s done every time.

You wait until he’s escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him. 

“Chrollo, I can’t--” You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. “I don’t know you. Not… really. Not enough to give up my life here.”

Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because you’ve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway.  You wish he hadn’t asked again before the night was over, but there’s no way to fix it now.

You’re ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears don’t come. You’re prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--

“Come along,” is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?

But you take his hand anyway. 

“It would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.” 

His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe you’re imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.

This doesn’t feel right, suddenly. He’s upset, that’s why he’s holding you so tightly. Or maybe you’re upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that it’s better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach. 

“Maybe I should just go home,” you yell over the crowd. 

Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust. 

“And miss the grand finale?”

You should insist on going home. Everything’s gone shitty. It’s too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--

“Come to the concert,” he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, you’ll go to the concert. What else would you do? 

He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving. 

--

Booze, sweat, and popcorn. That’s all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band you’ve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.

Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although he’s not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.

You feel bad. That must be why there’s a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course he’d ask you to come with him--if he’s the type to live so freely, he wouldn’t think twice about making the offer. He just doesn’t understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.

You can’t hold something like that against him, so you don’t. 

Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one last…

All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. He’s standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms. 

And he’s looking right at you.

“Chrollo--” There’s no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.

But he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.

“What is it, love?” 

The nickname doesn’t even register.

“That--the man--the guy from before--he was there.” Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. “Can we leave? Please?” 

Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesn’t tell you that of course, we’ll leave, of course, I’ll get you somewhere safe, of course, let’s talk to the police. 

“Hush.” One hand begins to pet your hair. “Not much longer now. It’ll be over soon.” 

“What do you…”

Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--he’s standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. He’s not looking at you, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving. 

Your eyes dart over the crowd.

There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you can’t describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.

And then in a few blinks, they’re all gone. Like they were never there.

Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, it’s just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic. 

“Chrollo,” you manage, voice shaky. “Something’s wrong. There’s people, they seem--it’s---I don’t know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--”

Chrollo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.

“You’ll miss the concert,” he whispers in your ear.

Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why he’s not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.

The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.

“Dude, what the fuck, we’re playing up here, you can’t just--”

Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singer’s head off with a single punch. 

The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage. 

There’s a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.

And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until it’s gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.

It’s that moment when people finally begin to scream.

Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and she’s there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someone’s neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve. 

You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someone’s arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood. 

That’s not all he hit.  The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.

You’re not entirely sure if you said Chrollo’s name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, he’s simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.

Like people aren’t screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isn’t flying. Like you aren’t seeing things that you’ve only seen in shitty horror movies. 

He’s in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.

“Chrollo! We have to go! Now!” 

He doesn’t move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you. 

He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.

“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you? Will you stay with me?” 

Oh, he’s definitely in shock. That doesn’t stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach. 

“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Let’s go!” 

You don’t register what’s happened until you’ve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.

There’s a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when you’re on your own two feet, he’s not there anymore.

You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if he’s nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.

There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and you’re not sure of anything in the world because he’s there. 

Standing in front of you.

Close enough to touch. 

Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and it’s not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what you’re seeing.

He’s got fangs.

Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck. 

They’re vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires. 

There’s a brief, panicked thought--where’s Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and you’re scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.

If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.

But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.

You didn’t dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldn’t work: you couldn’t run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and he’d catch up with you even if you weren’t panicked and in pain.

You had to hide.  But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.

Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.

It’s this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.

The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. It’s hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.

You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which you’d forgotten about; but it wasn’t your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadn’t actually been inside a fun house in years. 

The glass maze. All-see through panels that you’d smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it… something, behind you. 

No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away. 

You can’t tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:

He’s there--he’s here--he’s going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.

You scream, at some point, and it’s dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.

Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe you’re just good at completing mazes when you’re in fear for your life; whatever the reason,  you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until you’re at the end of the hallway. 

A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope. 

You don’t try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.

The second floor isn’t entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and there’s a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.

It’s not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. It’s what’s down below. 

They’re all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like they’ve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways. 

All of them have blood around their mouths. 

Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up. 

You don’t wake up.

Instead, you hear a metal clang.

Then another.

And another.

Someone is coming up the stairs.

Thoughts dart here and there, but there’s nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. There’s a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. There’s still a monster waiting to kill you.

The metal clangs again, and again, and again.

He’s coming up the stairs and he’s going to kill you. You’re going to die. Today. Now. 

Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--

It’s not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs. 

It’s Chrollo.

It’s like you blink and you’re in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesn’t look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises. 

“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re okay,” you say, reflexively. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”

Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, “God? An interesting choice, my dear, considering…”

You aren’t even really listening. You’re just happy. Delirious, even. Chrollo’s here. He’ll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow. 

There’s an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.

You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrollo’s arm. 

“We have to get out of here. Somehow. I don’t--maybe we can distract them?” Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if he’s too far away for you to properly make them out.

Chrollo doesn’t move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you won’t make it a step off the slide before being attacked.

The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.

Your hand tightens on Chrollo’s arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I won’t die alone.

Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man who’s been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.

Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man. 

“Wait a moment, will you, Feitan?”

There were many things you might have said in this moment.  Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is: 

“Huh?”

And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you don’t think you’ll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers. 

Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. You’re stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material. 

In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all. 

When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, he’s no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while. 

He’s a vampire. 

“I advise you not to run,” he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically. 

You do, because you aren’t a fucking moron. Though you don’t make it far, as it doesn’t do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.

He’s faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain don’t care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.

In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.

He doesn’t. It doesn’t. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.

When you’re aware of the world again, there’s still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.

Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy. 

“I know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you don’t listen to my orders. Do you understand?” 

The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrollo’s expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and you’re having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.

And you have. You’ve learned that he’s a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that he’s not even a person.

“I understand,” you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, “that you’re a fucking monster.” You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin. 

At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.

“You didn’t speak so crudely to me earlier this week.” A little smile. “Last night notwithstanding.” 

Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--

“I didn’t know you were a… a… fucking vampire earlier this week.” 

Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts. 

Chrollo doesn’t look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.

“Regardless,” Chrollo says, “respect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?” There’s still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest. 

“Fuck you.” This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.

The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.

Feitan’s hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--

He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole. 

You cry out, you shriek, but he doesn’t let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. You’re shoved towards Chrollo, who doesn’t grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.

When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a shark’s. 

“I’d like you to stay put this time,” he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. “And not run away from me. I’d like you to listen, and refrain from being… impulsive.” 

He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. “I could make you do it, you know. I don’t have to ask.”

Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times he’d told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him? 

And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.

“Like hell,” you mutter.

Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper. 

“Like. Hell.” 

The slap you give him is weak. You’re surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered. 

But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.

You don’t have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, you’ll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe you’ll get away, someway, somehow.

You don’t get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldn’t be there, something taught and thin. A wire? 

You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldn’t be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground. 

Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but it’s hard to tell, over the pain.

Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not. 

Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and you’re left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this. 

Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; it’s like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--he’s looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.

It’s Chrollo who speaks.

“I would like an apology for your behavior.”

If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.

And he wants an apology?

You want him to go away. To not be real.

You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.

So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.

Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once. 

When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping. 

“F…fuck you.” 

Stupid words, you know. But you’d rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood. 

Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:

“Want me to do it, boss?”

Your eyes dart around, but you can’t see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.

Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.

“No,” he says, finally. “Feitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.”

Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesn’t disagree.

The words reach you, but you don’t take them in for a slow moment. 

Break… break… what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--

There’s a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. It’s Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.

When he pulls back, you see him move, but don’t know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitan’s boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.

Time itself is hot and painful. You’re not sure how long it goes. You’re only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they don’t move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up. 

It’s not like you could run, anyway.

At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? There’s no hope in your chest, no thought that they’ll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them. 

Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like they’re being spoken through water. 

“Take care of them, will you? We’ll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.” A question from someone. A pause. “Yes, I’ll handle her.” 

The voices fade away. Either because they’ve walked away, or you’re finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.

Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish you’d let them kill you quick. 

Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. He’s a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.

He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper. 

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.

“Kill you? Of course not.” He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. “I do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.” An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.

“She’s still in there, no doubt.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. “Buried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.” He smiles nostalgically. “But those can be remedied with time.”

He’s crazy. I mean, you know he’s a vampire, sure. But he’s also fucking crazy.

“I want to go home,” you croak. Even though you can’t reason with crazy.  “Please. Please.”

His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous. 

He doesn’t mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.” There’s some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. “And from now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”

Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You don’t have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you won’t say yes, either. You can’t. 

“Well. I can make you obedient, if you’d rather be stubborn.”

You’re about to ask--”What?”--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely. 

You’re afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes. 

And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand.  Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.

You’re dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you can’t really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but there’s a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?

There are more screams now--from the beach. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s like you can see it in your mind although you’re flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood. 

The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while you’re dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too? 

Chrollo’s mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. He’s blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. It’s cold, vile.

A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.

But what did you know about vampires, anyway? 

You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.

At least, you think, this is finally over. 

--

You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.

You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open. 

The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, he’s not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but he’s still around. His fingers twitch  and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.

You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think. 

The world seems to come into more focus then.

You are, as far as you can tell, alive. You’re propped up against a tree. It’s night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize you’re awake, but no one says anything.

Strangely enough, you’re not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but there’s no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.

How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?

Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. It’s heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood. 

You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.

Someone nearby laughs. “Picky princess, huh?” You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a man’s head off at the beach.

Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.

“You’re finally awake, I see.”

You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run? 

Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isn’t horrifying or unusual at all. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There’s nowhere to go.”

Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.

“Where… are we?”

If you’re close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help. 

“Far away from that little town, I assure you.” Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. “We won’t stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.”

Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find? 

You could ask all of these things, but you’re not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry. 

“I want to go home.” You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry. 

“None of that,” he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. “Don’t waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. You’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you didn’t know me well enough to leave with me,” he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. “You said you hadn’t had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. We’ll have eternity, after all.” 

Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.

Eternity.

“Did you… am I… did you make me--” 

Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But there’s nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film. 

He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort. 

“No.” A pause. “Not yet, not quite.” He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isn’t trying to make fun. “That may come later, if you behave. For now, I’ve made you…” Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. “… let’s say, mine.”

You shiver. From fear, and from cold.

Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.

“You must be cold. I don’t want you catching a chill so soon. Why don’t you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?” 

You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.

He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness. 

“Go sit in front of the fire,” he tells you. 

And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down. 

It’s like before, at the carnival, but different now. There’s no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and that’s that. When you try to push yourself up,  you find that you simply can’t make your body do it.  You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.

“I’d prefer you to do things willingly,” Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. “But I don’t mind giving orders either, love.”

Love.

You’re not sure he knows the meaning of the word.

But neither do you.

Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s everything that the monsters around you aren’t; and you aren’t one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this. 

The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down. 

It’s lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasn’t a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world. 

Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference. 

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Make me

Sirius Black x fem!reader

in which James planned you a blind date with your nemesis

requests are open!

word count: 2,1k

warnings: language, drinking

...

"I'm so tired of all the boys. I swear, there is not even one normal man here in Hogwarts." you grumbled despairingly as you landed on the couch in the common room next to James.

"Oh sweetheart, so I take it the date didn't go as planned?" he chuckled.

You covered your face with your hands and loudly exhaled.

"Well, we did go to Hogsmeade but instead of Honeydukes he took me to Scrivenshaft's quill shop. Stop laughing, this isn't even the worst part. He then kept blabbering on about some new type of rainbow ink that he, in his own words, just has to buy."

At least James tried to not laugh as much as he desired to, though you wouldn't blame him - because what the actual fuck.

"Oh, I just love hearing of your escapades, Y/N. Such a shame, though; me and Lily are desperate to find another couple to go on double dates with." he smiled while pouting his lips mockingly. You punched his arm with surprising strenght.

"Just no more guys like Mr. Rainbow Ink, please." you laughed.

James looked as if he wasthinking of something and after a moment of silence, his whole face lit up and you knew that whatever he thought of was no good.

"Just leave it to me, 'kay? I'll find the perfect guy for you and arrange a blind date."

"Fuck no." you said immediately, knowing that James would singlehandedly mess up.

"No, no, just hear me out, okay? I will take this job seriously, in my own interest. I promise not to make a joke out of it."

You rolled your eyes in answer but didn't argue further.

"Plus, I think I have the perfect candidate."

At that moment, you should've already known that something will go really, really wrong.

...

Three days later, James already had everything planned out and was nearly jumping with excitement. Well, you didn't really share that feeling. But for some reason, seeing your childhood bestfriend so invested in finding you the best match made you soften and not argue that much.

"You know that this Friday is the Celestial ball, right? So, your date will pick you up at five and please, dress nicely so he doesn’t change his mind. Yeah, that's probably all you need to know." he gave you a wicked grin.

"Why the secrecy?" you raised an eyebrow at your friend.

"Nothing, just making sure it's an unfiltered experience for you."

“At least if he turns out to be another idiot, I have an excuse to get hammered.” you grinned.

“That’s the spirit!” James bumped your shoulder excitedly and you couldn’t help but smile at his childish happiness.

But when you tried to think of even a single person with whom he would set you up, your mind went blank.

Who are you gonna be, stranger?

…

In preparation of the upcoming ball, Lily and Dorcas braided your hair into a sort of messy half-up-half-down hairstyle and you girls shared quite a laugh when they tried to get you into your very - very - tight dress.

With your black high-heels on, you examined yourself in the mirror. Your Y/H/C hair looked so sexy tied liked that and you decided to go with the same messy vibe regarding your whole look. From the smudged black kohl lining your eyes and the bold dark-red lipstick to your floor length burgundy dress with black lace adoring its edges. Oh, it might have been just a bit too slutty for such an occasion, but you didn't mind at all. You and Marlene always enjoyed wearing things just a smudge out of pocket.

You also liked shy boys stuttering when they looked at you. You hoped your escort would be one of those. You grinned at the thought and left your room with a light step.

"I see you take this date seriously." James nodded at you approvingly as he watched you approach him in front of the Great Hall.

"Yeah, yeah, dream all you want." you rolled your eyes. "Where is he?"

"Darling, getting all pretty and dressed up for me today, aren't you?" a voice purred behind you and it affected you in the same way a bucket of icy water would.

Oh no. Oh fuck no.

"Are you fucking serious?" you gritted your teeth at James and he paled when he saw the murderous look on your face. He better.

"Darling, he’s with Lily, remember? He wouldn’t be fucking me. But you, on the other hand… You know how my usual dates go."

You turned to face that ridiculously handsome face of Sirius Black. That fucker was you nemesis since the moment he saw you on the Hogwarts Express sharing a booth with James. It didn’t matter to you that James found a guy bestfriend – you were okay with sharing the same pedestal with another – but Sirius, on the other hand, just purely despised you for it. So after two yers of trying to settle this tension between you two, you gave up and started to treat him the same way he did.

And that nickname, that god-forsaken nickname; it drove you crazy and you both knew it.  

”I’m not spending even a second of my time on this… existence.” You spat at James instead, wisely ignoring that egoistic shit and silencing all your witty retorts. In your fourth year, you once wrote an entire list of those retorts, spending all your nights sitting crouched over that one piece of paper with anger flowing freely in your veins.

Obsessed much? a small voice in your head whispered.

“I think that if you give this a chance-“

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Angry already, darling?” Sirius purred and your knuckles turned white from you trying so hard not to break his perfect nose.

“Wipe that smirk off of your face before I do it for you.” You have been such a fool for trusting James to do just one thing right. Now you would do anything to be here with any of the guys you were previously complaining about. But instead, you were left with the only person you truly hated. So much for an unfiltered experience.

“Oh, are you gonna kiss me, Y/N?” Sirius smiled even wider.

“This was probably not a good idea.” proclaimed Lily as she approached you three.

“Probably not.” James nervously tugged at his hair.

You and Sirius were just staring daggers at each other. And after deciding this staring contest was fucking ridiculous, you just turned on your heel and began walking back up the stairs.

“Oh, darling, leaving so soon?” Sirius shouted at you and every head in the hallway turned your way. You turned around and bared your teeth at him, not caring that you probably looked like a wild animal.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” Your voice was cold as you took the tree steps it took to reach him. Even though Sirius was towering over you, you felt as if you were looking down your nose at him.

“What, darling?” he puffed, one corner of his lips turning up. He was toying with you, you knew it. And you hated that he knew it, too.

“Yes.”

“Or what?” Sirius stepped closer and you felt the tips of your shoes touching his. With every rise of your chest you could feel the fabric of his shirt.

Before you could say anything back (which would be hard because, apparently, your mind just went blank at Sirius’ closeness), James tugged at your elbow and walked you to an alcove nearby.

“What the fuck, James?” you spat at his accusingly. He winced at your words as if you had hit him.

“I just- Well, I don’t have to justify my gut feeling to you, but I think you guys should get over your hating phase and start acknowledging the chemistry between you two,” he whisled slowly at that, “So please, hate me all you want tomorrow. But tonight, just give him a chance.”

You looked over his shoulder back to Sirius. He was talking to Lily and it wasn’t a smirk on his face but a soft smile that has not even once been aimed at you. That fact made you queasy. You knew he wasn’t always an asshole – it was only in your presence that he got so riled up. But, you thought, it would be nice to be smiled at just like that.

“Okay. But just tonight.” You were surprised by your own words. Were you an idiot for saying that? You didn’t know.

“Thanks,” James sighed, relief lacing his words. He took your elbow again and brought you back to the group.

“I’m gonna get myself a drink. Maybe two.”

Lily giggled at James’ words and grabbed onto his arm and the two of them hurriedly left. That meant you and Sirius were left alone, which was very, very dangerous. You started walking to the bar without looking back at your escort, because all you really needed at that moment was a strong ass drink.

“Firewhiskey, right?” Sirius asked you when he caught up to you. No matter how fast you tried to go, he infuriatingly and casually kept his pace next to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him. In answer, he shrugged. “I just know.”

You tried to shake off the feeling that embraced you after realizing he somehow knew your favourite hard liquor.

 You also didn’t know how to react to the fact that Sirius paid for his and your drinks that some students smuggled into the party for a laughably ridiculous price.

As he handed the cold glass to you, your fingers touched, just barely. You told yourself your heartbeat was quick because of your temper, no other reasons.

“I don’t think you realize just how angry you make me.” You smirked ironically at Sirius, the alcohol already burning sweetly in your throat.

“I have that much of an effect on you? I should be flattered.” Sirius retorted. But it was not an angry answer, just…. A playful one. And you had no idea what to do with that.

“Don’t think you’re all that, Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. “Should I ckeck for a poisoned drink? Or a love potion?”

You knew you were dancing on the edge of a very sharp knife. But somehow, that made it much more fun.

“Don’t think of me so poorly, darling. As if I needed a love potion to get you on your knees and beg.”

“In your dreams, Black.”

“Yes, in my dreams, darling.”

You froze at that. Was he actually impying he dreamt about you being on your knees, begging before him? But of course he did, that arrogant prick. He always had to feel superior.

But that didn’t stop the blood from seeping into your cheeks - but you blamed your blush on the firewhiskey.

So in answer you just took another sip of your drink. Were you an idiot for flirting with him? But were all those quarells of your shared pasts actually any different from flirting? You’ve never been so confused.

“You really aren’t making this any easier.” Sirius mumbled but instead of your eyes he looked around the room. Thank Merlin the music was so loud that any awkward silences were swallowed up by it.

“As if you are?” His eyes met yours and you had to fight the instinct to fight with him, to get closer to yell at him - or get closer to kiss him?

Instead you got yourself another drink, just so you could do something with your hands.

“Slow down, tiger. Didn’t think you actually hated my presence so much you would rather get hammered.” Sirius mockingly frowned and before you could react, he snatched the glass from your hand.

“Give it back, you little fucker.” You growled and tried clawing at his raised arm. But he was a lot taller than you and to be honest, your attempts were just meaningless.

“Make me.” And maybe it was that crooked smile of his, or how good he looked in his suit or how soft his hair looked in the dim lights, that made you reach on your toes and kiss his infuriating dirty mouth that made you want to combust most of the time.

How was it possible that his lips were so intoxicating but the words that usually came out of it were so infurating?

But you forbid yourself to think of all those things. Instead you now easily reached for his hand and grasped your glass, snatching it from Sirius’ weakening grip.

“Made you.” You smiled. The bewildered look on his face was worth it. “I didn’t fluster you, did I?”

Sirius gave a startled laugh. “You clever little vicious thing.”

And he leaned into you, his nose touching yours, your breaths mingling. “Now do it again.”

[spencereidluver]

F is for First Date

september 15, 2008

summary: You and Spencer go on your first date to a little coffee shop before work. You convince him to try your coffee, and he finds he enjoys it.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none. just fluff and spencer being a gentleman

You roll over in your bed, throwing the covers off of your body. It was hot. Why was it so hot? You look over to your alarm cock: 8:03 a.m. You were running late. 45 minutes late, actually. Luckily, your apartment is only a few blocks away from the office, however, you typically left at 8:10. That left you 7 minutes to do your normal hour long routine.

You quickly jump up from your bed, letting the blankets fall wherever they pleased. Honestly, what’s the point in making the bed? You’re just going to tear it apart in your sleep tonight, anyways. You jog slightly to your bathroom, grabbing your hairbrush and multitasking as you did your morning pee. You brushed your teeth in record time, definitely not two minutes, but at least the morning breath was gone.

You went back to your room, slipping off your flannel pajama pants and gray “Harvard” shirt. You didn’t go to Harvard. You just liked the oversized shirt. 

You grabbed a nude-toned bra out of your dresser and clasped it behind your back. You slid a white lace top over your head and threw a tan fuzzy cardigan on. You put a pair of dark tights on and pulled a dark brown leather miniskirt over them, tucking the white top in. You slid on thick white socks on, ones that ended at your mid-shin, and put on a pair of black converse. 

Good enough, you thought to yourself, not bothering to put on makeup. You planned to stay in the office today. No meetings, and pray to god no cases. You just wanted a chill day.

You left your apartment at 8:15, not much later than you normally did, you’d just have to take out the coffee stop this morning. 

______

You nearly drop your bag as you’re rushing through the parking lot, trying desperately to enter the building before 8:30. Not only were you up late this morning, but traffic was a bitch. It wouldn’t be a big deal if you were a few minutes late, however you’ve been petulant in your 9 months and don’t plan to start truancy now. 

Of course, Derek, who 9 times out of 10 is fashionablly late, sees you speed walking through the parking lot.

“Hey Sweetheart, what are you doing in so late?” He jokingly cat-calls you through the lot.

“Slept late,” You respond in a yell, not slowing your step at all.

“Aw, baby needs her beauty sleep?” “Something like that.”

You rush into the building, crossing through the glass doors of the BAU office right as the clock struck 8:30, Derek somehow a full two minutes behind you. You walk over to your desk and place your knitted tote bag filled with personal items on the ground beneath you. Sitting in your chair, you plop the stack of paperwork in front of you, and look at the man across from you.

“Morning, Spence,” You say as you open the file.

“Goodmorning, y/n. How was your morning?” He asks curiously. 

“Well, I overslept and didn’t have time for a coffee stop, but luckily I was having a good hair day so it doesn’t matter. How about you?”

“Well I couldn’t even tell. You look great. My morning was alright. I got my coffee.” He mockingly takes a big sip before standing up and excusing himself. 

You didn’t know where he was going, though you had enough paperwork to let it pass through your mind. You quickly began scribbling through the papers and placing files where they needed to go. You forgot how messy you’d left your desk Friday when you returned from a case. You were in a big hurry to leave and go to dinner with the team, you just threw everything from the case on your desk and scrammed. It wasn’t a big deal though, it was just easy, boring paperwork. 

Spencer returned a few minutes later with a coffee cup in hand. He approached your desk. “Hey, y/n,” he says, you move your attention from the paperwork to him towering over you. “I made you a coffee. I um, I put two sugars in it, I hope that’s alright, I’ve seen you drink it like that before and-”

“It’s perfect, Spence, thank you.” You say, taking the cup as he hands it down to you.

He hurries to his chair and hides his face. You curiously turned the cup around. There, you saw the inscription of his homely handwriting. “y/n: do you want to go out for coffee tomorrow morning before work? -Spence.” 

You smiled, and went to look up at him, but he instinctively scurried away. Though, he’d left his half drank cup of coffee on his desk. You walk over to his, and flop down in his chair, it almost swallowing you whole as the leather back had fitted to his broader shoulders. You grab the coffee and a Sharpie marker from his pencil cup. “Spence: of course I do… 7:30? <3”

You get up and return to your  desk, almost on cue, Spencer returns. You were unsure of where he came from, though it didn’t matter. He sat at his desk, and you nodded your head to the cup. He looked confused for a brief second, before bringing it to his eyes to read it. 

He looked up and smiled at you. “ 7:30 sounds great, I’ll meet you there,” he says.

“Okay! I’m parking here and walking, if you wish to join,” you say, taking a sip of the special made coffee. It was no different than how you normally made it, but it tasted special because of who made it.

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot here, then. How’s that?” “That’s perfect, Spence.”

You return to your paperwork, unable to hide the smile on your face. You’d waited so long for this moment, you couldn’t believe it was finally happening. You caught Spencer smiling a few times as well. You wondered how long he’d wanted to ask you out. You’ve found Spencer attractive since the day you started working here. You were so beyond ecstatic something was finally happening between the two of you. 

You finished your coffee quickly. It was the best coffee you have ever tasted. You thought briefly for a second, before going to the kitchen to clean the styrofoam cup out. You made sure it was no longer sticky or had any coffee residue before drying it completely and taking it back to your desk. You open the small pencil drawer of your desk and pull out four sticky notes. Notes Spencer had left you in the past few weeks. You placed the four notes in the cup and placed a new lid on it. Putting the cup in the side drawer, you smiled to yourself. You’ve kept every note Spencer has ever given you. And you don’t plan on stopping any time soon.

_____

‘7:28,’ the clock on the dash of your car read. You looked in your rearview mirror at the road behind you. There was Spencer in his old man car. You’d been early, nervous about your date, though you knew it would go good. You wore a fitted white turtleneck with a knitted tank top sweater vest of different shades of brown on top. You paired this with a khaki skirt and the same pair of black converse. You realized this was a very Spencer-esque outfit, and it was quite possible you and him could have nearly the exact same outfit on today.

Luckily, Spencer picked from the other side of his closet this morning. He approached you wearing dark brown slacks and black converse as well. He had his satchel pulled over his waist, drawing attention to the way he swayed as he walked. He had a dark, though not as dark as his pants, sweater that was open, and underneath was a collared off-white shirt and a diagonally striped tie. His left hand rested on his satchel, and his right was hidden behind his back. He did his little hoppy jog to your car, you having opened the door, grabbing your knitted tote bag, and beginning to make your way around to him.

“Good morning, y/n,” he says as he reaches you. 

“Hi, Spence,” You didn’t know why, but you were suddenly very shy. Maybe because this was a “formal date,” but you’d been on friend dates with Spencer so many times before. 

Spencer was clearly nervous too, though less than you. His hand from behind his back made itself known, in his fist was a single red rose. “I um, I got this for you. I know it’s only one, but I actually saw a flower patch on my way here and I didn’t want to take them all.” He was rambling.

“I love it, it’s perfect.” You grab the rose from his hand, letting your fingers run over the petals. They were smooth. He could see you were trying not to touch the stem too much, as you were trying not to touch the thorns. 

“I picked all the thorns off so you didn’t hurt yourself. I don’t have any water for it or anything…”

You examined the stem. You saw all the spots where thorns once laid. He was so sweet. Not only did he make a stop to pick you a rose, but he also safety coded it. You were going to keep this rose forever. You knew it. You planned on pressing the flowers once you got home from work that night. Maybe you could keep the petals in the “note drawer,” or maybe you could start a new drawer..

“Spencer, hey, I love it okay. Thank you.” You slid the stem of the rose between two knits of your bag, it poking inside and the flower on the outside like a pin. You saw Spencer smile. He was proud of himself. 

The two of you began to walk through the parking lot. Spencer paid careful attention to your feet, matching his gate exactly with yours. As you neared the end of the parking lot, reaching the sidewalk next to a fairly busy street, you felt a hand gently brush your waist. Spencer switched sides, him now being on the side adjacent to the road. First flowers, and now this? This boy was a true gentleman.

You smiled to yourself. Technically, the date hadn’t even begun yet, but you were already certain you wanted a relationship to blossom from this. You looked to the man to your left, the sun in a position to hit against his face in a way that made him look like an angel. You couldn’t help yourself. You reached over and took hold of his hand. He jumped slightly, before gripping a little too tight. He looked down at you and smiled. 

“You’re so pretty, y/n,” Spencer said. He’d been waiting what seemed like years- though only 9 months- to tell you that. You didn’t know where Spencer learned how to flirt, but frankly you didn’t care. You really liked this side of him.

“I think you’re pretty too, Spence.” You said. He smiled and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Wow.

______

The coffee shop made itself known once you reached the top of a hill. The natural brick on the outside makes it look homey. It was about a 10 minute walk from the parking lot of the BAU, but Spencer and you were agents. You made the walk take a total of eight minutes. Speed walking isn’t a training module for the FBI, though it is definitely learned, and quickly. 

Spencer opened the door and allowed for you to enter first. Yet another gentlemanly move today. The smell of coffee filled your noses. It reminded you of Spencer. He always had coffee breath, yet not the nasty kind. He always seemed to smell so wonderful.

“Hello,” the barista at the counter cheerfully said as you and Spencer entered the small building. The two of you approached her. “What can I get for you guys today?”

You order your regular and Spencer orders a black coffee with a LOT of sugar. You retrieve the coffees from the pick up area and sit at a raised table in the corner next to a window.

“Why do you like black coffee?” you ask him. 

“I’m not sure. I always drank it when I was growing up and throughout college… and honestly, I’ve never tried it any other way.” He responded, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Really?” you said surprised. “With how much coffee you drink, I’m surprised you haven’t ventured into new territory even once.”

“Not once.” He took another sip. You noticed him kicking his feet beneath the table.

“Do you want to try a sip of mine?”

He smiled, crinkling his nose up. “Sure, do you want to try mine?”

“I guess I’ll give it a shot, though I will say I’m not the biggest fan of black coffee, so don’t be mad if I don’t like it.”

“I can’t promise anything, I can’t even say I’m going to like your girly drink.” He was teasing.

“I’ll tell you what Spence. You like my coffee and I’ll buy you a croissant. I like your coffee, you buy me a croissant. Deal?”

“It’s a deal, y/l/n.”

You switched cups. He gave it a sniff before popping open the lid to see inside. Tensley, he took a sip. You saw his eyes bulge. Licking his lips as he brought the cup down, he wrinkled his nose once again. He brought the cup back up, taking another sip. 

“You know what, I think you owe me a croissant.”

You smiled at  him, before taking a sip of his old man coffee, you cocked your head to the side. 

“You don’t like it, do you?” He laughed. 

You quickly sat the cup down and jumped up from your seat. You walked up to the counter, and ordered one regular croissant. Returning to the table with the plastic container in hand, you tossed in down in front of him. 

He opened the container, and tore a piece of the pastry off. He took a bite, and attempted to slide the container to you. In the process, it collided with his cup of coffee which was still situated on your side, causing it to spill all over your blouse. 

“Oh my god, y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, at least it wasn’t hot anymore.” You reach for the few napkins on the table, trying to dry yourself off despite knowing it wouldn’t do anything.

You were giggling, but Spencer didn’t find this one bit funny. He felt awful. You began to attempt wiping the table with the napkins, but were stopped by Spencer’s hand grabbing your damp-sleeved arm. 

“Hey, don’t worry about the table. I got it.” He gets up to go get napkins from the counter, before stopping in his tracks. He turns around and comes back to you, sitting in the chair using the sleeve of your sweater to stop the liquid from pouring onto your skirt and the ground. “Y/n, do you want to wear my sweater?”

This takes you a bit off guard. For a second, you forget your soaking wet with warm coffee. Your voice catches in your throat as you try to speak, but Spencer is already unbuttoning the two fastened buttons and sliding the sweater off his shoulders.

“You can go to the bathroom and change. I’ve got the mess, okay?” He hands you the sweater and makes room for you to move around him. You rush to the bathroom, trying not to leave a trail of coffee droplets through the lobby.

Turning into a stall, you immediately begin taking your sweater and white shirt off, tossing white one in the small garbage can. There was no way you’d be able to get the coffee stains out, and plus, the shirt was only $4 on sale at WalMart. Only left in your wire bra, you slip the brown sweater on. You button it all the way up, but as it’s a men’s sweater, it’s a little more of a V-neck than you’d like, especially since you were going to work soon. You tucked one side of the sweater into your skirt, letting the other side hang over to create dimension in your outfit and make it less simple. You toss your damp sweater vest over your shoulder and exit the bathroom.

Spencer was waiting for you when you came out. He’d gotten the mess cleaned up and was ready to leave. He grabs your hand, leading you outside the doors to begin your walk back to work. 

_____

next chapter: G is for Girlfriend

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

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a/n: sorry it took so long on this chapter, i've been pretty busy. hopefully i can get the next few out quickly as i hope to release part m (the christmas themed) on christmas day.

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[libraford]

Every black friday, I think of when I worked for walmart before Amazon was a big deal and the only way to get certain electronics for dirt cheap was to line up at midnight and wait for one of us to unwrap the stacks.

Our strategy that year was misguided- people could line up and wait til 3am when we wheeled them out, but if you left the line for any reason youd have to go to the back of the line. We had a guard at each line to prevent people from cutting or getting into a fight.

They sent me to guard the $200 laptops.

People lined up at midnight. The rules were posted. Stand in line, do not move. Once the stack is open it's one per person.

After the first hour, attendees were starting to get pissy with me, a 20-something getting paid less than 10$ an hour, because they chose to wait three hours for a shitty hp laptop. At one point they started pointing at me and yelling 'hall monitor' which was ridiculous because- again, no one is forcing you to be here.

When the stack came out, they all rushed, the entire stock was gone in three minutes.

But it was done. And I could go back to stocking shelves. As I'm pulling a pallet of diapers from the back, a woman stops me. It is now 7am

"Where are the 100$ laptops that were being advertised?"

"I'm sorry, but those sold out within the first ten minutes."

She's furious. "Well! I guess my children will have to be STUPID in school, then."

And that stuck with me for a long time, and will stick with me for a long time, because in 2010, laptops were not a requirement for most schools and if you needed to type up a report for class you did what everyone else did and went to the library where you could do all this for free.

Anyways, this story didnt have much of a point apart from be nice to anyone working retail this season because most people shopping right now forget how to act right.

[insomniac4000]

Jelly Legs- ArthurTV

Becoming a camerawoman for ChrisMD meant two things;

Standing out in all weathers for hours on end watching people try to shoot a ball into the net and

Trying not to stare at ArthurTV while doing number one.

You were first introduced to Arthur on your first day on the job, you were obviously nervous but professional and found it sweet Arthur spent his down time when he wasn’t taking part in the video, asking you questions. It was a ritual now, after shooting had wrapped for the day Arthur would stop for you a chat, one of his questions was always ‘what are you doing after this?’ so you would tell him your plans whether it be with some friends or mostly going home and edit the photos from the shoot before watching some Netflix and Arthur’s response would always be ‘cool,’ and a nod before he stuttered and walked off to speak to Chris.

“Do you mind that Arthur has a crush on your videographer?” George asked when him and Chris were getting into an Uber to go home after another very long shoot. Your day was far from over still, you had to take the equipment back to the office and back up the SD cards before heading home.

“Nope, it’s been what? Eight months now and it’s still the exact same routine, he stares at her, talks to her about animal mating rituals, she follows him around with a camera for apparent content,” Chris said doing the finger quotes before continuing “Then he asks her what she’s doing that evening but never follows it up with oh you’re not doing anything? Maybe we could go out? There’s nothing to be worried about, Arthur is a man of habit,” the small man explained as he played with his phone. George nodded in agreement but just because he agreed with it didn’t necessarily mean that was the way it had to be.

“Has she said anything to you about possibly liking him back?” George asked raising his scarred eyebrow.

“No, I don’t know a ton about her outside of work, she tends to keep things professional mostly. I know she loved science fiction films so they’d be a good pairing in that sense,” Chris replied with a shrug and George nodded.

“When’s the next time you’re going out with your team? Let’s invite her along, I think it’s time you got to know her a little bit more socially,” George suggested and Chris nodded, just because he was unlucky in love didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to help out a friend.

“So if you fancy is we’re all going to go out for dinner and then some drink’s next Friday?” Chris asked you the next time you were both in the office, setting the wheels of the plan in motion.

“Oh wow, yeah sounds good,” you nodded before looking back to your screen.

“Really? Okay great,” Chris replied and you looked at him a little and frowned.

“Unless you were just asking me to be polite…”

“Oh no no no! It’s just, I wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly. I’ve kind of noticed you tend to keep to yourself quite often. Its one of the reasons why we’re doing this actually, to get to know everyone outside of work, I like to think it’s quite cool and relaxed here and I’m not some horrible slave driver boss,” Chris explained and you nodded. You did keep to yourself often and people had sometimes pegged you as unfriendly when you were simply unsure.

“Sure, it sounds good,” you smiled and Chris nodded before adding the line that made your heart thump a little.

“George and Arthur will be there too,” You needed a new outfit.

After work that day you went shopping, it wasn’t your favourite thing to do in the world and it was something you could do quite quickly, it was often the case that whenever you had money and needed to buy something there was never anything, here you now were in Westfield trudging through each shop in a desperate attempt to try and find something that made her look good but also make it look like she wasn’t making too much of an effort. She picked up a black cami with a floral pattern and lace trim, feeling the material between her fingers, maybe this would work some jeans? Suddenly she heard a voice the other side of her which sent chills right down to her bone.

“You know you suit dresses a lot more,” the dark voice said in a low tone, you froze and kept trying to tell yourself that this couldn’t be happening, there was no way he was here, it all had to be a misunderstanding, a terrible one at that.

You finally mustered the courage to look up and there he was in front of you, the one person you never wanted to see ever again in your life, the person who you thought you would never see again, sure the legal side of things had ended but perhaps naively you thought he wasn’t so stupid that he would seek you out and talk to you again. You pulled the hanger with the top on it from the rail and marched to the till, hoping that human interaction with someone else could firstly, cause him to back off and secondly it would stop you from bursting into tears. You bought the top but it only kept the tears at bay for those five minutes as the second you left the shop they started to flow. Your vision was blurry from tears no matter how hard you tried to wipe them away as they were being replaced so quickly. You could see a man approach you and you started to panic, your breath quickened in pace and you started to wheeze ever so slightly, feeling the intense squeezing sensation in your chest, a panic attack. You hadn’t had one of these in over four months, you were doing so well. The figure got closet but you noticed the hair wasn’t long and brown so it couldn’t have been him. But he was a big guy, you could tell he was definitely a gym bunny, it wasn’t until you could hear his voice that you started to relax.

“Y/N, Y/N it’s me Reev, what’s happened? Are you okay? Let’s get you somewhere a bit quieter,” he said softly and you nodded. Your main work was for Chris but as he didn’t have a crazy upload schedule you would often do other work in your down time mostly for other Youtubers as they knew your work from Chris and or shared an office with him so it was easy to coordinate.

You could only nod, not having the strength or ability to speak in that moment. It was only when you started to walk you noticed Theo who walked on the other side of you, you were squished between the pair and managed to find some seats in a quieter part of the shopping centre off from the main stretch of shops.

“Do you live far from here?” Theo asked scrolling on his phone for Chris’s number, not knowing who else to contact. Your breathing was still very erratic so you shook your head, it was roughly a ten or fifteen minute bus ride away so an Uber would take closer to ten minutes if not a little bit less.

“Do you have a housemate or anything we can call?” Reev asked but once again you shook your head as you gripped onto the bench so tightly while trying to steady your breathing. You lived alone, you had lived alone since you and him broke up, him. You couldn’t believe after so long you would ever bump into him, let alone him having the audacity to speak to you and now after months of hard work he was at the forefront of your mind yet again.

“Hey Chris, are you home? We’ve got a bit of a situation here,” Theo asked Chris who he had now gotten on the phone, he explained the situation with the little information he had and Chris agreed you could go to his if you needed somewhere. You were starting to feel incredibly embarrassed but still hadn’t gained your ability to speak, or regulate your breathing properly so off to Chris’s you went with Theo and Reev in tow.

“What’s happened?” Chris asked once you were settled on the sofa, a mug of tea in hand, a very concerned ArthurTV and George sitting on the other sofa staring at you waiting for answers.

“I saw my ex,” you managed to spit out, staring at the wall in front of you, you had a thousand yard stare, it was obvious you had been traumatised by something.

“Must have been a pretty shitty ex for you to react like that,” Theo noted. Arthur frowned, the thought of you being so upset by someone did not make him feel good, from the little he knew of you he had only known you as an incredibly sweet person.

“He was. I was so surprised to see him because well…” You sighed, it was all going to come out anyway you may as well let the cat out of the bag. You took a deep breath to compose yourself before speaking again “He went to prison, he was violent.” You stated before downing a big gulp of tea. An uncomfortable and stunned silence filled the room as you looked around to see everyone’s faces, there was a mixture of pity, shock and anger, it was usually what you got.

“Did you know he was out?” Arthur was the one to break the silence, he needed to know more, he needed to know if you were okay.

“Yeah, there’s no restraining order or anything, not anymore. I had a no contact order but he didn’t go to prison because of me, he had a fight with someone else, but still I just didn’t think he was stupid enough to talk to me in that shop. If you guys hadn’t have seen me I don’t know what would have happened,” you burst into tears again as everyone looked at each other not knowing what to do for a crying woman. Chris gave you a hug first, some of the others did too in an attempt to cheer you up, you spent the next hour telling everyone your story, asking their questions to the best of your ability.

“That’s why I keep to myself a lot and keep things professional, I’m so so scared to let anybody else in,” you explained, your gaze flicking to Arthur briefly.

“I can’t say I blame you, but you know if you need anything you can call on any of us right?” George offered as he nudged Arthur a little and the brown eyed boy nodded profusely.

“You know you’re safe with us,” Arthur added and you nodded, you did feel safe with them, but could you open up in the way you wanted to?

Armed with their new knowledge the boys had well and truly embraced you into their inner circle, the best part was as far as you could tell they weren’t just doing it because they felt sorry for you but they were genuine.

The work drinks were a huge success, you spent a lot of time talking to people but mostly you chatted to Arthur, George and Chris although pleased the two of you were talking were now very aware of the complication, as was Arthur but he was determined to not treat you any differently, in fact he was even more determined as he wanted to show you just how you should be treated, you deserved the very best.

“Do you think somewhere in China there’s English takeaway serving up questionable fish and chips and steak and kidney pies?” You asked Arthur as the pair of you tucked into a takeaway. The two of you had started to hang out together just you two. It was purely platonic, you had mentioned you had wanted to learn how to play chess so now it was a regular thing going over to his flat to play a game, eat and talk about your views of the world. For some reason this particular evening had ended up being a little boozy, Arthur often liked a drink but this evening he seemed to be drinking a little but more and also tonight you were in a mood to match him somewhat.

“Maybe, I want to go to China. I had a great time in Sri Lanka, I need to go to Asia a lot more plus it’s so diverse,” Arthur mentioned to you, you hadn’t travelled a lot but it was on your bucket list.

“I’ve never been outside of Europe, I’d really love to do something like that,” you replied as you ate your food.

“Maybe we could do something together? Only if you wanted to of course…” Arthur asked trailing off at the end as his shyness kicked in.

“That sounds amazing,” you smiled and blushed before eating some more of your dinner.

The two of you continued to eat in a comfortable silence, you always insisted on washing up when you went over to his flat despite his insistence it was fine but the two of you had a routine now, you washed and he dried and put away. You handed him a plate, the blush rising very quickly on your cheeks as your hand brushed with his momentarily.

“You’re very cute when you blush,” Arthur said, his eyes widened, he didn’t realise he had said it until the words fell out of his mouth, he stuttered a little as he tried to come up with something to say and now it was his cheeks which were the red ones. You couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked all flustered.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out eventually and you frowned a little and shook your head.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s always nice to hear a compliment. You’re cute when you blush too,” you replied looking down a little picking up the fork and cleaning it so the last of the washing up was over.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m coming on too strong or that I’m only after something. There’s some nice guys out there and I really hope you believe you deserve something nice,” Arthur gushed, he didn’t know why he was saying this let alone why he was saying it now but he couldn’t help himself, the words were spilling out of his mouth he just couldn’t hold onto them anymore. You looked at Arthur carefully, trying to ignore the thumping in your chest. You reached out and grabbed his hand lightly walking back to the sofa where you both sat, hands still entwined and now resting on his knee.

“I know, I think you’re one of the good ones. I didn’t say anything before because of my past and I was scared to get into anything but I don’t want my past to effect my future anymore.” You admitted and Arthur had a very small and hopeful smile on his face.

“Does that mean we can maybe go out for dinner next time?” He asked his voice shaking ever so slightly.

“I’d really like that,” you replied with a giggle. This was going to be different in the best way possible.