#she just wants to pay her rent and steals | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafesapologist · 3 months ago

Text

strangers ─ drew starkey; ch. 1

summary: getting casted on outer banks threw you into overnight stardom, and an unforeseeable off-screen romance with one of hollywood's newest and biggest heartthrobs.

warnings: nothing yet, just not proof read fully

author's note: i want to preface that i was heavily influenced by karen x graham from daisy jones and the six (iykyk) as well as chase and madelyn's irl relationship for this story. i'm really excited for you guys to read this and as usual, if you'd like to be on the taglist please let me know!

You couldn’t sit still, fingers twisting the hem of your shirt while your knee bounced uncontrollably in the backseat of the rented SUV. The soft hum of the engine only amplified your restlessness. Your eyes flickered around, catching glimpses of palm trees and blurred tourists through the tinted windows—offering a momentary shield from the unforgiving Los Angeles sun and the bustling crowds beyond.

“How are you feeling?” Kendra, your manager, chimed in from beside you, her smile perfectly in place, glossy lips forming a curve that felt rehearsed.

You forced a chuckle, though it barely masked the pounding in your chest. “Just a little nervous, that’s all.” The words came out flat, a thin veil over the tension twisting inside you.

Kendra gave your leg a quick pat, her reassurance as smooth as ever. “Nothing to worry about. You’ve already nailed the hardest part—the audition. A chemistry read? That’s a breeze in comparison.” Her voice was soothing, but her focus never left the phone in her hand, the gesture feeling mechanical—like a line delivered without thought.

Auditioning for the show had been a gamble, and the stakes felt even higher now. You were still a relative unknown, and Outer Banks wasn’t just any show—it was the show. A streaming giant. You’d almost declined when the offer came, the weight of its success pressing down like an invisible hand. But here you were, convinced by the right mix of encouragement and blind hope, about to see if that gamble would pay off.

"You just need to go in there and feed off your co-star’s energy. Whatever emotion they’re giving you, absorb it and give it right back," your manager instructed, her voice firm as her eyes finally lifted from her phone. She leaned forward slightly, her hand resting on your arm as if to ground you, while the SUV glided through the final stretch of traffic. The weight of her words settled heavily in the air, matched only by the tension in your chest. The destination loomed closer, visible just beyond the tinted windows, and her gaze locked on you, expectant and unwavering, as if her will alone could push you over the finish line.

“Got it,” you replied, forcing another thin-lipped smile—polite yet distant, as if dismissing her with the same gesture. Your attempt to stay cordial was barely masking your desire for space. Just then, your heart gave a hard thud, perfectly timed with the jolt of the SUV rolling over the first speed bump in the studio parking lot. The looming reality hit you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs, as the building came into full view. Each second that passed only deepened the pit in your stomach, the dreadful weight of what was to come pressing harder.

“Thank you,” you murmured to the driver, slipping a small cash tip across the center console as your manager was already halfway out of the SUV. It was a quiet gesture of appreciation, a way to acknowledge the small but crucial role he’d played in getting you there, to this moment. He turned, offering you a kind, knowing smile before you stepped out, gently closing the door behind you. As you straightened your skirt, you couldn’t help but stare up at the building in front of you, its towering stature appearing overhead.

Kendra strode ahead, confidently leading the way as she pulled open the door and gestured for you to step inside. Though her presence could be demanding and stern, in that moment it offered a small but necessary comfort amid the unfamiliar sea of faces that now surrounded you. The room quieted as you entered, and a dozen pairs of eyes turned in your direction, their stares heavy and intense, making you feel small under the weight of their scrutiny. You forced a smile—thin but polite—trying to seem more outgoing than you felt, hoping to project the right impression even as your nerves simmered beneath the surface.

“Well, look who it is—the girl of the hour! Y/N! So nice to see you again,” an unfamiliar voice rang out, though the man’s face sparked a vague sense of recognition, likely from the audition. He stood up, extending his hand with a broad smile that was meant to put you at ease.

"Hello," you replied warmly, masking the swirl of anxiety inside as you shook his hand, maintaining a steady grip. “Thank you again for allowing me this far into the audition process. I’m very grateful.” Your voice remained poised, calm, even though your insides felt like they were twisting into knots.

Your manager’s approval resonated softly behind you, a gentle hum of reassurance as she watched the exchange unfold. “I’m not sure if I introduced myself properly last time we met. My name is Jonah; I’m the director for the show,” he said, his voice rich and authoritative, each word heavy with expectation. A lump formed in your throat, the gravity of his presence amplifying the stakes, pressing down like a lead weight.

“Today, we’re going to have you do a chemistry read with who will be your love interest on the show.” His words hung in the air like a charged whisper, and your eyes widened, disbelief swirling within you. The truth struck with the force of a summer storm; you hadn’t fully grasped the role awaiting you until now.

The thought of embodying someone’s love interest sent a ripple of exhilaration and fear through your veins, making your stomach tumble as if caught in a tempest. Would it be a playful spark, filled with laughter and fleeting glances, or a brooding romance, steeped in longing and tension?

You nodded, a practiced motion that belied the ball of anxiety swirling within. Each beat of your heart echoed the dread tightening in your stomach, the sensation bubbling up like a restless tide. The thought of being paired with one of the actors to portray a romance on-screen sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the lump in your throat aside, your gaze flickering around the room, desperate for any hint of who your co-star might be. Each unfamiliar face felt like a potential source of scrutiny, and the air thickened with tension as you scanned the room, searching for clues amidst the sea of strangers.

“Okay!” Jonah clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and authoritative, breaking the taut silence that had settled. “Let’s get Drew out here.” His voice rang out, clear and commanding, drawing every eye to the door, where a buzz of anticipation rippled through the room. You felt the air shift, charged with expectation, as if the very walls were leaning in to hear who would step through that doorway.

A wave of heat washed over you at the sound of his name, igniting a fire of recognition deep within. You had seen him countless times in glossy magazines and flickering screens, caught glimpses of him at film festivals where the air buzzed with admiration, yet never had your paths crossed until now. Though he wasn’t the biggest name yet, he was a force—a powerful actor whose presence resonated through the industry like a distant thunderstorm.

As the thought of sharing the screen with him settled in your mind, your heart fluttered, a nervous bird trapped in a cage of anticipation. How could you possibly keep pace with someone whose talent seemed to flow effortlessly, whose performances were a masterclass in emotion? Doubt began to coil around your thoughts, tightening like a vine, each tendril whispering fears of inadequacy.

The room felt like a distant echo, the chatter of voices fading into a soft hum as you waited for him to enter. Your heart raced, a wild thump that reverberated through your chest, each pulse a reminder of the anticipation coursing through your veins. The other directors and screenwriters settled back into their seats, alongside your manager, their eyes fixed on you like an audience eager for the first act to begin.

Just as you began to drown in the weight of their stares, the atmosphere shifted, the air charged with electric anticipation. The door creaked open, and time seemed to stretch, every second hanging heavy. Your gaze snapped toward the sound, and your throat tightened as a tall, brooding figure stepped into the room. His presence filled the space, his stature both commanding and slightly intimidating.

For a brief moment, your mind went blissfully blank, as if time had paused to let the reality of him sink in. He moved with an effortless grace, each step purposeful as he greeted the group at the table, his voice smooth and resonant. You could see Jonah nodding in acknowledgment, and then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, he turned his gaze toward you.

Suddenly, he was there, standing before you, and the air between you felt impossibly thick, heavy with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The moment was alive with a sense of anticipation, the unknown curling around you like smoke. You straightened your posture instinctively, trying to summon every ounce of composure, as if by holding yourself steady, you could convince the room—and yourself—that this was effortless, that you weren’t rattled by the sheer gravity of the encounter.

With a smooth, fluid motion, Drew extended his hand, the gesture both graceful and commanding, his fingers outstretched with a quiet confidence that spoke of experience beyond his years. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Drew,” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft, a gentle warmth woven into the words that caught you off guard. His tone was far kinder than you’d imagined, the kind of voice that could lull a room into ease.

As you reached out to meet his handshake, his touch was firm yet light, grounding yet unassuming, and in that brief connection, the world around you seemed to pause. The noise of the room, the watching eyes, the weight of your nerves—all of it faded, if only for a heartbeat. His presence was commanding but not overwhelming, his demeanor holding the delicate balance between strength and gentleness.

"Hello," you replied, your voice lifting an octave higher than usual, a subtle attempt to come across as feminine, poised. "I'm Y/N." As his hand met yours, your attention flickered to the way his fingers moved—effortlessly, fluidly—sending a tremor through your chest. Your heart skipped a beat at the touch, your pulse quickening under the gentle but assured pressure of his grip.

You couldn’t ignore how small you felt beneath his towering presence. The realization that you had to tilt your head slightly just to meet his eyes made the knot in your stomach twist tighter. His height, his frame—it all made the space between you feel charged, his presence simultaneously grounding and intimidating.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said again, his voice smooth as honey, the warmth in his eyes unwavering. His gaze was soft, kind, a contradiction to the commanding figure he cut. You could feel his energy, an unspoken ease radiating from him, as if he could sense the nerves bubbling beneath your surface.

"If you're feeling nervous or uncomfortable at any point, just let me know," he added, his voice dropping lower, as though he were shielding his words from the watchful eyes of the casting directors around you. "But I'm sure you've got this." His tone was gentle, reassuring, his words slipping through the space between you with a quiet confidence.

You nodded quietly at his gesture, a soft acknowledgment of his awareness and kindness, the unspoken "thank you" hanging between you. Before you could find any words to respond, one of the casting crew approached, handing each of you a script for the audition. The weight of the paper felt heavier than it should, the magnitude of the moment settling in deeper.

Chemistry reads had never been your strong suit, not in the brief time you’d been working in this industry. And this? This felt like a leap into a whole new realm, with expectations looming over you. Your eyes flicked down to the script, scanning the lines with the practiced speed of someone used to absorbing words as if they were lifelines. You read them once, then twice, allowing the emotions on the page to sink in and swirl around your mind, even as the undercurrent of nerves made it harder to focus.

Drew stood calmly in front of you, his presence steadying but no less overwhelming. You could feel his quiet confidence as he glanced through his own lines. The room was still, save for the soft rustling of papers and the occasional murmur from the casting team in the background. You straightened your back, holding onto every ounce of composure you could muster, and waited for the director’s cue.

"Alright, you may begin whenever you're ready," Jonah announced, his soft smile doing little to ease the weight pressing on your chest. His eyes flickered between you and Drew, expectant, watching for the magic to unfold. As his words sank in, a queasy wave rolled through your stomach, the weight of the moment pressing harder against your nerves. There was no turning back now—any hesitation would be a glaring failure, something that could follow you like a shadow in this unforgiving industry. The thought of being blackballed clawed at your mind, and you suddenly longed to disappear, to slip into a place where eyes weren’t always watching.

But before you could let the panic take hold, Drew stepped into the moment, his voice cutting through the tension like a lifeline. He began his lines effortlessly, the words rolling off his tongue as though they belonged to him, his presence filling the room with a quiet confidence. It was as if he had taken command of the space, a seasoned professional steering the scene with ease.

As if possessed by his character, Rafe, Drew dove into his lines with raw intensity. "Maisy, I care about you. But I-I can't risk it. I would never forgive myself if I got you involved in my mess and you got hurt because of it." His hand trembled slightly, betraying the emotion he was drawing from deep within. He pointed to his chest with a shaky finger, his voice quivering just enough to feel real, to pull at the heartstrings. His head hung low, the weight of sorrow written across his face, his entire presence drenched in regret.

You stood there, momentarily in awe of his transformation. The way he embodied Rafe with such vulnerability fueled your own performance, making it impossible not to feel the emotions he was radiating. It lit a fire within you, urging you to dive into the scene, to match the depth he was offering.

"Rafe," you spoke, your voice slipping into the soft, pleading tone of Maisy, letting the character take over your body as effortlessly as breathing. The words trembled on your lips, each one laced with a quiet desperation. "I don’t care what happens to me. I just want to be with you. Don’t… don’t do this."

You shook your head slowly, your movements measured, deliberate, as you stepped forward, closing the space between you. Your hand reached out, grazing his cheek, the tender contact filled with unspoken emotion. As if on cue, tears welled in your eyes, the sting of them amplifying the moment. You gazed up at him, your expression filled with a mixture of pain and hope, as if you were begging not just for Maisy’s life, but for everything she believed in. It was a skill you prided yourself on—channeling emotion so deeply that it felt like it bled from your very soul, and in this moment, you were no longer yourself. You were Maisy, standing on the edge of heartbreak.

Drew’s eyes, glossy with unshed tears, locked onto yours, his sorrow so palpable it seemed to seep into the air between you. His hands ran through his hair in frustration, fingers gripping the ends as if trying to hold himself together. He began to pace, his movements restless, the emotional weight in his voice thick and raw.

"You don’t get it, Maisy," he started, his voice breaking with a mix of frustration and pain. "Everything I’ve ever cared about in my life has abandoned me. I’ve never had anybody who cares about me like you do. I love you so much that it hurts—it hurts me," he cried, pressing a trembling finger into his chest, the gesture full of anguish. His blue eyes, once so calm, were now brimming with tears that slipped down his face, streaking his cheeks as he stood there, vulnerable in a way that left him utterly exposed.

"I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you," he continued, his voice cracking, "but I have to protect you, even if that means letting you go." His brows furrowed deeply, his entire expression twisted in agony, his gaze never leaving yours. It was as though, in that moment, Rafe was no longer a character—he was real, and the pain etched on his face was authentic, an outpouring of emotions he couldn’t contain.

But you didn’t miss a beat. Despite the intensity of his performance, you held steady, the emotions boiling within you just as fierce. "You can’t make that decision for me, Rafe," you pleaded, your voice rising with a mixture of desperation and defiance. Your hands flew into the air as if surrendering to the chaos of the moment.

"If I get hurt, that’s on me. I knew the risk of being with you, and I don’t care!" Your words spilled out with conviction, each one wrapped in the weight of Maisy’s determination. "Nothing is going to make me leave." Your voice was firm but edged with vulnerability, the sternness in your tone undercut by the undeniable pain that flickered beneath. You stood there, watching him, as if your very heart was on the line, a pitiful sort of strength anchoring you in place, demanding that he listen—that he understand.

"Being with you is worth it all," you added softly, your voice tinged with a raw desperation that could only come from someone who had lived through heartbreak. The vulnerability in your tone wrapped itself around the moment, thickening the air between you. Drew’s blue eyes, glossy with emotion, flickered between yours as if he were trying to decode the tragedy etched in your expression. It was as though, in that fleeting silence, his heart was breaking too, caught in the moment of the scene you were creating together.

Then, without warning, his large hands cupped your face, his touch sending warmth rushing to your cheeks. His palms, rough yet tender, cradled your skin, and for a moment, the world outside the scene seemed to vanish. "Promise me you won't go anywhere," he pleaded, his voice trembling with the same desperate intensity that mirrored your own. The emotion in his words was so intense, it felt as if the two of you were teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

"I promise, Rafe," you reassured him, your voice soft but unwavering, a soothing balm to the storm brewing in the room. Despite the emotional intensity, you held steady, grounding both of you in the moment.

For a brief second, the world paused. There was silence—a sacred, fragile quiet—allowing the vulnerability between you to speak louder than any dialogue could. The casting crew sat in rapt attention, witnessing the depth you had both drawn from. Drew’s thumb gently grazed your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours, as though he couldn’t bear to break the connection. The moment was electric, heavy with meaning, as if you were no longer acting but living the characters’ truths.

"I won’t let anything happen to you, alright? I swear on my life," he vowed, his voice deep and resolute, yet drenched in emotion and passion. His words hit like a surge of energy, drawing you in, making your heart skip in response. There was something in the way he spoke that made it feel real, as if this promise wasn't just for Maisy, but for you too.

You nodded up at him, chest heaving as you breathed in the weight of the moment, each inhale heavy with the raw intensity of the scene. It felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you, emotions pulsing between your bodies like a silent current, your heart racing to keep up. You weren’t acting anymore—every word felt lived, every gesture steeped in the desperation and love your characters clung to. The air between you and Drew hummed, alive with the electricity of shared vulnerability, a fragile bond that tethered you both to this moment.

Then, like a sharp crack in the stillness, a clap echoed through the room. The spell shattered instantly, the delicate tension that had built between you dissolving as reality rushed back in.

"That was incredible," Jonah’s voice broke through the haze, his head shaking in awe, a grin of disbelief spreading across his face. "The chemistry between you two is beautiful." His words were thick with praise, and you couldn’t help but glance over at Drew, a faint smile teasing the edges of your lips. The connection you’d forged in those few minutes lingered, a quiet understanding that neither of you spoke aloud.

"I think we’ve seen enough," Jonah continued, his tone final yet filled with certainty. "I think you’d be perfect as Maisy."

The world around you stilled, sound fading into a distant hum as his words sank in. Your heart seemed to pause, suspended in disbelief, before it raced forward, pounding against your chest like a wild drum. It was as if time itself had slowed, every second stretching out as the magnitude of what he’d said enveloped you.

"Oh my God, thank you!" The words burst from your lips, a mix of breathless excitement and overwhelming gratitude. Your cheeks flushed a rosy pink as joy flooded through you, warmth spreading through your body in waves. It was impossible to contain the wide, radiant smile that broke across your face. The world blurred around you, your focus narrowing to this single, life-altering moment. You felt lighter, as though all the doubts and fears you’d carried had evaporated into thin air.

Your eyes darted between Jonah and Drew, the weight of their gazes making everything feel real—so achingly real. You had done it. You had stepped into the role, not just as Maisy, but as someone who had finally claimed their place in the world.

"You did great," Drew said, his smile wide and genuine, a warm glow in his eyes that radiated excitement. You could feel his energy wrapping around you, a comforting embrace that mirrored your own joy. As your smile blossomed, his grew in tandem.

Your manager beamed, clapping along with the group of directors, her expression a blend of pride and exhilaration that you had never witnessed before. The room buzzed with energy, each person caught up in the moment of celebration.

"Thank you so much for this opportunity," you replied, your voice a melody of gratitude, bubbling up from within. "I won’t let you down." You stepped forward, reaching for Jonah’s hand, your heart fluttering with excitement as you shook his hand firmly. It was a gesture of gratitude, a promise of your commitment, and you felt a rush of warmth at the connection—a shared understanding that this was just the beginning.

You moved down the line, shaking hands with the rest of the crew, each grip solid and reassuring. Their smiles met yours, each one a testament to the hard work and passion that had brought you to this moment. In those brief exchanges, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders, replaced by a sense of belonging and purpose that ignited a fire within you.

You made your way back to Drew, and to your surprise, he enveloped you in a hug that spoke volumes, his arms wrapping around you in a warmth that felt both comforting and exhilarating. "Congratulations," he murmured softly in your ear, his voice a gentle melody that resonated in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The embrace lingered, a moment suspended in time, before he pulled back, his smile radiating a bright, infectious joy that lit up the room.

"Thank you. You were awesome, by the way. I'm excited to work with you," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips, raw and unfiltered, yet undeniably true.

Drew chuckled, a rich sound that sent a ripple of warmth through you. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he nodded, "Likewise," he replied, adding a playful wink that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. In that fleeting exchange, the connection deepened, an unspoken promise of collaboration and creativity.

Turning towards your manager, you embraced her, feeling the solid weight of her pride enveloping you like a soft cloak. She returned the hug with a firm pat on your back, her touch both grounding and uplifting. "You did great, kid. I'm so proud of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion, wrapping around you like a warm embrace on a chilly day.

You left the studio with a sense of accomplishment unlike anything you had ever experienced before, a buoyant feeling that danced in your chest like a flame ignited by success. The joy radiating off your manager only amplified your triumph, her excitement palpable, like the warm glow of the sun on your skin.

As you slipped into the black SUV parked outside, a smile crept onto your face, blossoming with every heartbeat. The vehicle felt like a cocoon, enveloping you in a new sense of pride, a sanctuary that held the promise of new beginnings.

Your manager, brimming with enthusiasm, quickly dialed your agency, her voice animated as she relayed the news of your audition triumph. You could hear her words spill forth like a rushing river, each syllable a testament to your hard work and dedication.

As you absorbed your newfound outlook on life, the sunny L.A. sky seemed to sparkle with an ethereal clarity, its azure expanse stretching endlessly above you like an artist’s canvas, brushed with hues of hope and possibility. The golden rays cascaded down, bathing the city in a warm embrace, each glimmer igniting your spirit as if the universe itself were celebrating your triumph alongside you. In that moment, it felt as though no force on earth could disrupt the intoxicating high that enveloped you, each breath filled with the sweet essence of achievement.

"You better get ready for tonight, 'cause we are celebrating on me!" your manager exclaimed, her voice a jubilant melody that danced through the air, weaving joy into the fabric of the day. Her enthusiasm sparkled like champagne bubbles, promising an evening alive with laughter and camaraderie.

With a smile stretching across your face, you realized that this was just the beginning. The night was a canvas yet to be painted, and you were the artist, ready to fill it with laughter, joy, and new memories.

And in that instant, you understood: you were no longer the girl who had once doubted herself. You were a force to be reckoned with, ready to embrace every opportunity that lay ahead. The chapter of uncertainty had closed, making way for a new narrative, one filled with passion, courage, and the promise of dreams finally taking flight.

And maybe even something more.

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey imagine #drew #drew starkey x y/n #obx 4 #obx fic #rafe obx

946 notes · View notes

chrollogy · 2 months ago

Text

THE COST OF DEVOTION | chrollo lucilfer x f!reader

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

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

word count: 18.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two weeks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lukas?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trust? Good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was more than crossing a mere boundary.

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

“I’m done with this conversation.”

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

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

You felt defeated.

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

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

Oh.

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

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

Correct. Chrollo did not care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was about time Chrollo hunted for his prey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Euan? Chrollo thought.

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

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

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

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

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

Unbelievable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The only option left was to check the balcony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

Was he nervous?

Impossible. There was no such emotion in his dictionary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How ironic.

You really did need that extra security from the Hestons.

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

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

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

If he got the job done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked so peaceful, and undisturbed. Vulnerable.

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

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

The problem was, Chrollo couldn’t do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Help me escape even for a little while.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chrollo—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On the bed . .”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tonight is all about you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to stop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haah—! That’s right, give in to it.”

And you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah . .” You nodded in a daze.

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You believed it for a week.

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

He never smiled at you like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is . . rather unprofessional, miss.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss me?”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little over a week.

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

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

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

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

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

Chrollo’s grip tightened around the wheel.

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

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

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

“I can give you that.”

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

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

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

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

The answer was more than obvious.

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

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

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

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

Maybe in another life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chrollo? What brings you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we taking a detour, Chrollo?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

Ciaran. Chrollo. Kill. Your blood ran cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The faint scent of iron hung in the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that it mattered to Chrollo.

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

Until it withered.

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The audacity he had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

586 notes · View notes

syrupfog · 5 months ago

Text

AU where Sanji can’t go to college because his dad is way too rich for him to qualify for FAFSA, but Sanji’s estranged so he can’t go to him for financial assistance.

He wanted food science. Still does, someday. But in the meantime he works at Zeff’s restaurant.

He meets Luffy because Luffy and Ace are notorious dine n’ dashers, and the Baratie is about the only place that doesn’t ban them, because Zeff’s secretly got too soft a heart, and because Luffy and Ace at least TRY to work their bills off, although they never last long.

Ace and Luffy drag him back to “their place”, which is a four person dorm room that’s technically home to Chopper, Usopp, Franky and Zoro.

At six, it’s a squeeze. And it stinks. Sanji complains the whole time he’s there, forces them to open a window for godssake.

But he comes back every time they invite him. He brings food.

He’d bring food anyway, but he noticed that Zoro’s clearly an athlete and he’s surviving on JUNK. Slim Jim’s and microwaved eggs and unseasoned chicken. Sanji’s disgusted, and he voices that disgust loudly.

He and Zoro get into arguments about it, but Zoro doesn’t complain when Sanji brings meals.

Sanji’s also really satisfied when he sees Zoro eat everything without even attempting to turn it down with a “you shouldn’t have” or “I’ll leave some for someone else”.

He eats everything Sanji gives him, without comment, and Sanji gets a thrill from that. A bit because he can recognize someone else who also must have gone through food insecurity.

Ace and Luffy also clearly have, but their trauma manifests in stealing right off his plate.

Which Sanji allows, of course. He’s a pushover.

When the group of six come to the Baratie, plus two new people (Nami and Robin), Zeff initially turns them away because “I can’t afford for eight people to skip out on their bills you lunatics”.

Nami pays for them in advance.

Sanji hears her telling Zoro she’s adding it to his bill.

The few high school friends Sanji had disappeared off to college at the start of the semester, so he’s happy that he seems to be adopted into this group, right up until he comes to serve their table and hears Nami call the “meeting” to order.

Sanji looks over her shoulder as he’s pouring waters and sees spread out call logs and texts and letters. Threats. Nami’s words go in one ear and out the other but Sanji hears the key; Vinsmoke. They come from Vinsmoke.

They’re all getting them, he realises. His hands shake as he listens. They’re being targeted, threatened. They don’t know why.

HE knows why.

How long has his dad known where he is? What he does, who he sees?

He backs up. Gripping the jug in a vice grip. Runs for the kitchen.

He tells Patty to cover him because an emergency has come up, and he runs out the back.

Runs for a long time.

Just runs.

He stops responding to Ace and Luffy’s attempts to contact him. He can’t talk to them. He’s going to cause them trouble— HAS caused them trouble. They’re his friends. They didn’t know what they were signing up for.

He calls off as many shifts as he can while still making rent

(which honestly isn’t a lot) and if Ace and Luffy show up he demands to be on dish duty.

Zeff sees this, but he doesn’t say anything. Sanji’s grateful. And ashamed.

He’d liked having friends. Liked that terribly crowded stinky dorm room.

It’s almost two months of hiding, although the texts from Ace and (especially) Luffy don’t stop coming.

And then, one day, he gets a pounding on his door.

Pulling it open, expecting a pissed of neighbor maybe, he finds—

“Zoro?”

Zoro looks at him flatly. “Come on,” he says.

“Uh,” says Sanji. “No?”

Zoro grabs his wrist (when was the last time someone touched Sanji?) and veritably drags him out the door.

“Shit, Mosshead, stop!”

“No,” says Zoro. “We’re tired of you hiding.”

“I’m not HIDING,” Sanji hisses, at least pulling the door closed behind him

“Yes you are,” Zoro says. “You think I don’t know hiding?”

Sanji would be surprised if Zoro knew hiding. The man is nothing but bold. “How did you know where I live?”

Zoro, dragging him down the stairs, says “Your old man told me.”

“WHO?”

“That cook. The grouch.”

“ZEFF?”

“Stop shouting, dumbass.”

Sanji fishmouths. “I can’t believe he told you,” he says eventually.

“He’s not an idiot,” Zoro says. “He knew you were hiding for dumb reasons.”

Sanji was hiding for legitimate reasons. He doesn’t say that.

Zoro drags him all the way out of the building and to an idling old van with painted windows. Oh, is he going to MURDER Sanji?

He pulls open a back door and throws Sanji in.

Sanji kicks him as he goes. Zoro curses at him.

There are no seats in the back of the van.

There’s a lot of pillows. It smells like the dorm. There’s also several six sets of eyes staring down at him from where everyone else is apparently just chilling in the back of the van.

“Uh,” Sanji says, from the floor. “Hey, guys?”

Zoro jumps in and pulls the door closed.

The van is thrown into reverse and everyone curses at Ace.

“Hey,” says Luffy. “You’re back!”

“That was the plan,” Nami says.

“Took you long enough,” Usopp says. He’s looking at Zoro though, not Sanji.

“Couldn’t find his floor,” Zoro grunts.

Sanji lives on the second floor.

“Uh,” says Sanji, still lying down. Shifting with the turns of the van. “Am I being kidnapped?”

“That would piss off your dad, wouldn’t it?” Nami muses. “Especially if someone files a missing persons report and he gets dragged in.”

Sanji gulps. They know he’s a Vinsmoke, then.

“I still say we just fight him,” Luffy says.

“We’re not fighting an ADULT,” Usopp shrieks.

“Usopp, buddy, we’re adults,” Ace says.

“Except chopper! Chopper put your seatbelt on!”

“It’s on!”

Sanji’s spiralling. They know who his dad is. Do they want to blackmail Judge? Or—

“So we’re planning a party tonight and we want you to cook for us,” Luffy says.

Sanji splutters. “Wh—“

“Yes, we were planning on driving to the store first before going back to the dorm,” Robin says.

“Here.” Zoro throws a dirty piece of printer paper and a pen at him. “List.”

“You want me to… make a list.”

Zoro settles back against the van wall, unfazed by the sharp turn. “Yeah.”

“You guys want me to… cook for you.”

“Duh,” says Luffy.

“You don’t… care that my dad was sending you death threats? Or have you just not gotten to that part in this discussion?”

Luffy laughs. Bright. Free. “Yeah that was annoying,” he says. “But my guy Jinbei’s on it! He used to work security.”

“Uh… huh.” Sanji feels sceptical. It feels too easy.

“Come on, cook,” Zoro says. “I don’t want to have to talk to your old man again. He’s mean.”

Sanji’s never had anyone refer to Zeff as his old man. He doesn’t want to object, though. “Is this not just… too much work? For just me?”

“Oh, Franky says he can help with dinner if that’s what you’re worried about,” Luffy says.

“SUPERRRRR.”

“No,” Sanji shakes his head. “I mean like. I’m not worth all this trouble. You guys were getting threats just for KNOWING me. My dad’s…”

“Just some bastard you happen to share blood with,” Zoro says, arms crossed. “Who gives a fuck? Chopper’s dad is a reindeer.”

“He WORKS WITH REINDEER!” Chopper squeaks.

“Luffy’s grandpa has tried to get us arrested, like, ten times,” Usopp says. “It’s all good.”

“Uh,” says Sanji. That doesn’t sound good.

“Don’t worry, we can outrun him,” Luffy says sagely.

“Plus he’s a bitch,” Ace yells from the front.

Sanji looks at the dirty piece of paper in his hands. There’s a boot print on it. He starts writing a list. “Fine,” he says. “But only because I don’t think you guys would leave me alone even if I tried.”

“Obviously not,” Luffy says. “Zoro’s been moping for weeks.”

Sanji’s head snaps up to meet Zoro’s.

Zoro shrugs. “I don’t like having to count macros,” he says.

“Right,” Sanji agrees easily. “Makes sense.”

He takes note that Zoro’s the one who talked to Zeff. Zoro’s the one who dragged him out. Zoro’s the one who eats everything Sanji gives him like it’s a gift from the gods.

When they arrive at the store, haphazardly parked in the loading dock, Sanji follows Zoro out.

He grabs onto Zoro’s sleeve. “You’re pushing the cart for me.”

“Whatever,” Zoro scoffs.

He does, though.

And he sits on the kitchen floor while Sanji prepares the food for this so called party.

The party is the same group that’s always there in the dorm. Sanji finds out, when he’s done cooking, that they’re celebrating his return.

He cries in their bathroom, briefly.

Then he sits next to Zoro and watches everyone make fools out of themselves as they fill him in on everything he’s missed.

It’s good.

#zosan #one piece #my writing #sort of pre slash really #but whos counting

581 notes · View notes

luvwestwood · 11 months ago

Text

"Working Overtime" - Toji Fushiguro

4,469 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), toji is your boss, escort reader, thigh riding, p in v, spitting, toji rails you on a balcony, exhibitionism?, toji fucks you on a pile of money, mention of size difference, hair pulling, eye contact, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praising, light aftercare

notes. corporate girlie by day, escorting by night. out of all people, who knew your own boss had to be tonights client? (ok but wealthy toji is such a refreshing experience from broke homeless smelly ass toji.)

art used is by @/yunonoai

Being able to say you work under Mr. Fushiguro meant that you were gifted of some kind. Just having the privilege to do so puts you on top of others in society.

Toji Fushiguro himself possessed a different category of wealth. Any high-rise building you walk into in the whole of New York, you could be 99.9% sure that he owns it.

Five star hotels, bars of any kind, and award-winning Michelin restaurants. Oh, you name it. This was his world and we were just living in it.

On the other hand, the Fushiguro company's pay was decent. Working conditions were way above standard. It was a luxury to work in his office, but knowing you, it just wasn't enough.

You needed more than that. Which is why you took up escorting, suggested by your best-friend one night while the two of you were intoxicated by liquor. She told you that you had the looks, the bod, and a personality anyone would die for. And lastly, you were captivating - you could have anything your way.

At first you took it as a joke. Thinking she was just being a lick ass. But surprisingly you had tried it out not long after the idea was proposed, and you ended up making almost double your annual net salary in just four months. This night job was a secret that only you and your best-friend knows about.

Of course, you worked on the weekends. Choosing to work Monday to Thursday would’ve been self sabotage.

You had more than enough money to buy whatever you want, send your mom on holiday, and you were always on top of rent. Your corporate job was just something to get through the day with rather than rotting at home.

During shifts, you and the other escorts would hang around in the night club changing rooms. Most of the girls were also strippers in the same club, but that wasn’t really your thing. So you just stayed with escorting. Your manager would just assign each of you clients, unless someone has personally booked you in.

Speaking of which, a voice came from the door frame. “Star, you have a client tonight. 9PM.” Star wasn’t your real name, it was just a fake one that you used while you escorted. It was safer, and most of the other girls did the same.

You look at Geto, your boss, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Busy polishing up your eyeliner, you try your best not to poke yourself in the eye. “Name? And did he obey my no-home rule?”

As an escort, you did have some rules for your own service. You figured you’ve been doing this for quite a reasonable amount of time, so you made a personal rule where you’d refuse to go to a clients house. For safety reasons.

“Goes by the name.. uh… Eznin? And he did indeed. Seems like he booked in for the Ritz Carlton on 25 West. Think he’s a first time client too.” He reads the details off his tablet.

Of course, it just had to be one of Fushiguros hotels. You literally couldn’t escape that man.

The other girls in the room purred, “Aren’t you lucky.. Seems like he has money, don’t ya think?” Meimei takes a puff of her cigarette, looking at you in the mirror aswell for a response. “Maybe check for an expensive watch? I’d take it if I were you.”

“Not funny, Meimei.” She was known for stealing from her clients, you never knew how she got away with it. It even got so bad to the point that she sp¡ked a client, taking his wallet afterwards.

Getting up from the chair, you made your way behind the dressing divider, shimmying your robe off to slide on a dark blue lingerie set. Over it, you wore a simple black dress. I mean, you could never go wrong with a little black dress.

Throwing on some matching strappy heels, you stuffed your purse with some condoms and lube. And a plan B, of course.

“Your rides sorted,” Geto stood back from the door frame. “I’ll text you any further details.”

“Copy,” after spritzing on some perfume, you made your way out of the club.

An all-black SUV was waiting for you outside the entrance. Your favourite driver, Todo was standing beside the car door, smiling as you approached him.

“Hi, Todo.” You smiled as he held the door open.

“You look wonderful miss.” Todo smiles back before closing the door, walking around to the drivers side.

The car drives on, and as you were securing a secret mic in your purse, (for safety reasons but the client never knows) Todo speaks.

“Ah- Miss, not sure if I should disclose this information but your client tonight is.. very wealthy.” His leather covered hands clutch onto the wheel. “I’d be more demanding if I were you, make the most of it.”

Breaking out into a laugh, you stop fiddling with your bag, to look at him in the rear view mirror. “..Is that so?”

“Yeah… thought I might let you know.” He grins, bringing the car to a stop. Todo quickly scurries out of the vehicle before you could, opening the door for you.

“Thanks for the ride, Todo.” You slipped a $20 bill in his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

He nods, getting back into the car as you made your way inside of the hotel.

Checking your phone for updates, Geto sent you a text with all the details around five minutes ago.

Eznin Caln 30 years old, Net worth- $307,473,297 Floor number 43, he’ll let you in.

You walked over to the elevators, luckily one was already open. Taking a look at the buttons panel, you looked for a 43. Noticing it was the last highest button, you raised an eyebrow before pressing it.

Clutching onto the straps of your purse, the doors closed. You could only look at yourself in the metal reflection, taking a few deep breaths. Of course, you made sure to send a text back to Geto to let him know you were at the hotel.

Although you were decently experienced in this job, you’d still get nervous each time you were about to meet your clients.

Setting down the fly aways in your hair, the elevator came to a halt.

*Ding!*

The metal doors opened before your eyes. Hesitant, you walked inside, the bottom of your heels tapping against the wooden floors.

“..Hello?” You peeked inside the other rooms in the penthouse, one being a mini office that seemed like someone was just there, the other being a bedroom with big windows and a balcony, overlooking the city.

A deep voice spoke behind you. “Can I help you?”

You gasp, clutching onto your chest as you turned around. “I’m so sorr- Mr. Fushiguro?!”

Your eyes widened, and his mouth wide open. He was only in a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair wet from a fresh shower. You couldn’t help but ogle the drops of water that decorated his muscular body.

“…Are you.. the escort?”

Unable to form words, you swallowed your spit before speaking. “I.. I am.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at the ground.

“Alright, make yourself comfortable.” He eyed you up and down, a mini towel in his hand to dry his hair. “Sorry you have to see me like this, excuse me while I put some clothes on.”

Is he not going to question anything?..

Your breath hitched, God, did he know I was eyeing him? “Okay..”

He turned around to go back to the bathroom, but looked over his shoulder as he was doing so. “Just call me Toji, we’re outside of work.”

You watched as Toji continued to walk away, “Well.. I’m basically working, aren’t I.” you muttered under your breath, making sure he doesn’t hear.

Looking around, you remembered that he owned this hotel. I should’ve known when I was going to the 43rd floor, he doesn’t let anyone in here.

You walked over to his bedroom, it was bigger than your own apartment. The sheets were neatly made, and a bottle of Malbec sat on a table near the window.

Placing your purse on small sofa, you removed your jacket, neatly folding it over the arm rest aswell.

You made your way to his closet, in search for a white robe. There was a robe on the hanger beside his freshly dry cleaned suits. You took it out, tracing your fingers over “The Ritz-Carlton” that was embroidered onto the front in cursive.

Sliding your dress off, you covered yourself in the robe, only the dark blue lingerie set underneath. Afterwards you tied a knot around your waist with the belt. Kicking off your heels, you placed them inside the closet, along with your dress that was neatly folded.

Although you were an escort, you made sure to clean up after yourself. You hated leaving a mess around, so you respected your clients by making sure to leave the place clean.

You could hear Toji walk into the bedroom. Closing the doors of the closet, you turned to him, and he was already busy getting the wine bottle open with a corkscrew.

Taking a seat on the armchair in front of him, causing you to be at crotch level with Toji. You watched as his arms flex each time he handled the bottle.

You noticed Toji was in a more relaxed outfit. He wore a dark grey cotton longsleeve that sculpted over his muscles like paint, with bottoms in a matching colour and fabric.

“Toji,” you called out his name.

The pouring of the wine stopped, his fingers gently pushing the glass towards you. “Hmm?”

Taking the glass by the stem, you twisted it between your fingers. “Do you regularly hire escorts?”

Toji walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting down. He sighed, looking at the city view in front of him. “No,” taking a sip, he continued. “This is my first time, actually.”

You did the same, but taking a tinier sip. You didn’t want to be tipsy while carrying out your service. It was too dangerous. “..Oh.”

Looking back at Toji, he was busy staring at the red liquid swirling around in the glass. “I dont even really know how they work.”

As you were about to take another sip, you paused. Your eyes looked at him over the rim of the glass, before placing it back down on the table.

“You can just do whatever you want with me, really.” You crossed your legs, exposing the bare skin on your thigh to him.

"I see," he nods, slightly leaning back onto the bed, using his hands for support.

"So, you made up your mind yet?" you got up from the arm chair, making your way to Toji who was on the bed. "What you wanna do?" You stood yourself between his legs, as he tried his best to hold himself back from pulling on the knot that was holding your entire robe together.

Toji's hands rested on your hips on top the robe, dangerously close to your ass. He made sure to bring you closer to him, almost pressing your chest to his face at this point. "I don't know," His free hand tugged on the knot of the belt, slowly unraveling it until the robe slid off your body. "Maybe you, if that's an option."

He could feel his cock strain against his pants as he took in the sight of you in nothing but lingerie, it felt like he was opening a present on his birthday. Blue was his favorite color.

You choked on your words at his response, he sure did have a way with his words. "I don't usually allow that, but maybe I'll let it slide tonight."

Toji caressed your wet lip with his thumb, gradually sliding it inside of your mouth as you sucked on it gently. He stops and moves you to the side by the waist, getting up from the bed.

Confused, you stay standing in front of the bed, watching Toji as he grabs something from the drawer. He eventually makes his way back onto the bed, but this time, leaning his head back against the head-board.

Toji takes out his wallet, pulling a $20 bill out and placing it on the nightstand beside him. "..Crawl over to me."

Your lashes flutter as you watched him place the bill on the night stand, you could only obey what he asked you to do. 'I'm just doing my job.. this doesn't mean anything. He will forget about this.' You constantly chanted this in your thoughts, completely disregarding the fact that he was your boss.

You crawled onto the bed, and slowly to him. Toji's eyes watched you closely making sure to tell you, "Stop," as you were just about to crawl onto his lap.

He takes out another $20 bill from his wallet, this time, two. Toji gently raised his knee, just enough for it to rub against your warm cunt that was covered by the lace panties. "Ride my leg, until I tell you to stop."

Aroused, which you are not meant to be, you couldn't help but sink yourself down onto his leg. Part of you wanted this, but you did at good job at not showing it.

You slowly started to move your hips back and forth on his lower thigh, placing both of your hands down in front of you for support. Toji's hardened cock begging to come out as he watched you closely.

If you were to lift up his top, you’d be able to see his leaking top peeking out of his waistband. The straps of your bra slowly fell down off your shoulders. Toji could almost groan at this lewd sight in front of him.

"Good girl," He did his best to hold himself back from holding onto your hips, "Keep going."

A spot on the fabric of his pants turned into a darker grey than before, your slick making its way through your panties. Nothing can be done.

Breathy moans started to crawl out of your throat, Toji noticing as you started to grind on his leg harder and slightly faster. "Stop."

You whimpered quietly as Toji retracted his leg from underneath you, observing the newly made wet spot on his pants. "Look at this mess you made all over me.."

Speechless, and breathless, you fell back onto your heels in front of Toji, he took another bill out, but this time $50.

"..I want that bra off." He slaps the bill onto the growing pile on the nightstand, followed by another 50. But he doesn't take his eyes off you. "And the panties. They're kinda annoying me now."

Doing exactly as he said, Toji's hand rested on his crotch, aching to palm himself through his pants. You slowly, but teasingly unclasped your bra, Toji clearing his throat by the time your tits were finally on display to him.

Followed by your soaked underwear, which at this point was no use. They managed to fly across the bedroom, hanging off a small statue that was on top of a console table.

He just wanted to wrap his mouth around each of them, or even motorboat your titties.

Toji propped himself up in a less relaxed position. "Lie down on your back, legs spread."

Your last sight was him before you fell back on to the bed, your head nearly hanging off the edge. Toji noticed your nipples hardened as soon as your skin made contact with the cold satin sheets. You felt the weight of the bed shift around, as Toji grabbed both of your legs by the thighs, positioning his head between them.

Squirming about, Toji peppered kisses on your inner thighs, his large hand wrapped around one of them. Wasting no time, he went straight to sucking and softly biting on your folds, using his tongue to lap at your bud until it was swollen. Moaning into your pussy, he softly massaged the flesh of your thigh, the vibrations from his grunts adding more to your stimulation.

Busy sucking away, wet noises from his tongue and the slick of your dripping pussy echoing throughout the bedroom. His hand reached behind him, then slowly went back over his shoulder. It was a $100 bill, tucked between his index and middle finger.

You were too busy hanging your head off the edge of the bed in pleasure, grabbing the sheets beside you and wrinkling them as Toji devoured you like he hasn't eaten for weeks.

The paper bill fell onto your stomach, tickling you slightly. You could feel Toji spit onto your pussy, the saliva trickling down almost into your hole before he slurped it back up, sticking his fingers in there instead. You felt them slide into you with ease, Toji swirling his warm tongue around on your clit.

"O-oh God.. To..ji." You managed to choke out a moan, your manicured hands clawing at his hair and eventually messing it up.

Letting go of your thigh, he used his now free hand to fondle with your breasts eagerly, twisting your nipples between his fingertips before giving them a slap.

One last lick on your clit, Toji removed his head between your legs, this time his whole body kneeling between them. You sneakily push up against him, his bulge through his pants grazing against your bare cunt.

Using your strength to lift your head from the edge of the bed, you watched as he took off his shirt, letting it fall onto the floor. Its neckline was soaked from eating you out earlier, but we don't talk about that.

Panting, his hands frantically rummage through his wallet. You noticed it was still bulky, as if the previous cash he pulled out didn't make any difference to the amount he had now.

Toji pulled out $1000 all in 20 bills, your eyes widening, wondering if he was serious.

"Please.. let me fuck you." Toji also sat back on his heels, $1000 in his hands as you were underneath him, fully naked. He just wanted to indulge himself in you, and if he could, he'd make this night last forever.

You slowly nodded, honestly begging to having his cock inside of you too. Before you knew it, your vision was filled with the $1000 raining down onto your body, and by your sides on the bed. He quickly pulled his bottoms down to his knees, before realising they were too annoying. He proceeds to fully kick them off.

Toji glances around the room for a condom, before you stopped him. "..Is it okay if we don't use one? ..I want to feel every inch of you."

You read his mind. "Anything you want, gorgeous."

His large hands shuffled through the pile of cash that was over your body, making sure that he could still see your tits and your beautiful face.

One hand grabbed onto your waist, and the other was used to align the tip of his cock with your hole. As soon as he slightly pushed the tip in, both of his hands were on your waist now.

Toji carefully slid in, making sure you take every inch of him. He closes his eyes in pleasure as he feels your plush walls clench around him, Tojis grip on your waist intensifying.

And, god was he big. In both cock, and Toji in general, he could destroy you if he decided to use full stength tonight.

"Y-you're too.. big," Toji not even halfway, you cry out, only wrinkling the sheets more to the point they weren't tucked into the frame hotel-style anymore.

You could feel both of his thumbs caress the soft skin of your sides as he cooed, "I know baby, I know," Toji let out a grunt as he tried to move in and out of you.

The difference of size between you and Toji made you throb, at this point he could just use his hands to fuck you on his cock back and forth like a doll in his grasp.

Toji starts to pant as he picked up the pace of his ruts, your tits bouncing, only adding to the pornographic sight in front of him.

Covering your face with your hands, you moan into them, the feeling of being full with Tojis cock was driving you mad. You could feel one hand let go of your waist, bringing it to your wrist to pull it away from covering your face.

The rustling of the cash beneath you and the sound of skin slapping echoed out into the living room from the bedroom. "Look at me when I fuck you," Toji says sternly, causing you to whimper in agitation as you did your best to keep your eyes on his.

"To..Toji.." You moan out, choking on your words as your hand grabbed onto his that was wrapped around on your waist.

"Come on doll, say my name." Turning feral, Toji pounds into you like a fleshlight. Voice shaking as you try to moan out his name, and by tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised if you lost your voice.

He comes to a halt, completely. Toji slides his cock out of you, a creamy white ring formed at the base. You whine before he hushes you. "Y'know what," He picks you up, cradling you in his arms.

You switch positions, instead you lock your legs around his waist, as the two of you made your way to the balcony door of the bedroom. Is he..

*click!*

Toji slid the glass door open, the two of you stepping out into the balcony. It wasn't cold, and you could see the still busy city carrying on with life underneath the hotel.

Suddenly, Toji peeled your legs off his waist, making you face the railing, and the city in front of you. You gasp as he roughly positioned your body, placing one leg up onto the rail, your two hands clutching onto the cold metal.

He slides into you again, but this time not allowing you to adjust. Toji immediately goes in with brutal force, your ass ripping against his pelvis as he drilled into you. On the balcony. For anyone to watch.

Toji spits again, his saliva falling onto your asshole and soon enough drips onto his cock that was continuously pounding in and out of you.

Your moans broke out into a giggle due to the ticklish feeling, Toji couldn’t help but smile at your reaction.

Both hands on your waist, Toji groans in pleasure and praises you non-stop for taking him like a good girl. His hand wrapped around your lower stomach as he felt you give in, your legs unable to support yourself. "You're doing so good for me," he whispers in to your ear, only to leave a trail of wet kisses down your back afterwards,

You moan continuously, for sure, everyone below could hear. Your hand made its way to Toji's nape, bringing him closer to you as he repeatedly fucked into your sweet spot.

"I’d do anything to be able to see a view like this one for the rest of my life," his left hand made its way down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles.

This just did it for you, lowly moaning, you let go of Tojis neck. Leaning forward, you rest your chin on the metal rail ontop of your same hands that were grabbing onto it. But a certain someone didn't let you do that.

Toji immediately grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back against his chest, taking your leg off the rail. You felt him interlock his hands around your inner elbow, suddenly fucking into you upwards as you grab onto his bicep for support.

"G-o-d Toji, please just f-u-ck your c-um into me." The enunciation of your words came out in bits, as Toji drilled up into you at a brutal pace.

He grinned against your necks skin, leaning further to plant kisses on your jaw."You want me to fill you with my cum, huh?"

You frantically nod, but that wasn't enough of an answer for a man like Toji.

"Oh baby, use your words." He purred into your ear, holding his orgasm to make sure you get it when you deserve it.

"I need it- I need it so ba-ad." You whimpered out, squeezing onto his bicep. "Please, Toji."

He whined, balls tightening as he heard you beg for him. You already drove him crazy, and that only drove him crazier. With one deep thrust, his movements come to a halt, allowing his warm, thick seed to fill you up completely.

Toji placed more kisses onto your back and your neck, making sure to never lose grip of you in case you go all jelly. Followed by him, slowly pulling his cock out of you, his load dripping out of your hole and onto the balcony flooring.

He stuck two of his fingers back into you, slowly fucking the load inside of you to make sure it stays inside. With his cum covered fingers, he slid the two of them past your lips and into your mouth. You sucked on them, humming as it covered your taste buds, and eventually swallowing.

Toji slapped your ass, and you yelped, giving him a glare. He chuckled before picking you back up bridal style, carrying you back inside the penthouse.

He gently and carefully placed you on the bed, quickly cleaning a bit of the mess you two made around the room.

"How about I go run us a nice bath, hmm?"

Fiddling with your thumbs, you watched as Toji neatly fold the pile of money together alongside the one on the night stand. Of course, it’s still yours. "That sounds good," You smiled as he walked over to give you a peck on the forehead.

The dripping of water from the bath tap rang throughout the room, Toji leaning back against you as the two of you were in the tub. You squeezed a sponge over his abs, the hot water dripping down his skin as he closed his eyes.

"..Toji," you called out his name, and he hums back in response.

You gently rubbed the sponge up and down his arm, "Would you say this counts as me working overtime for you?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to look up at you. "I'll add another $500 bonus and a shopping spree if you ride me in this tub."

You scoff, letting go of the sponge as you sulk against the marble of the tub. "I'm literally stuffed with your cum. I think you had enough, thank you very much."

Toji only laughs, "Aren't you forgetting you got an asshole and that throat of yours? We can easily squeeze in three more rounds."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

#toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #jjk fushiguro

1K notes · View notes

darnell-la · 2 months ago

Note

heyyy :3 I was thinking too much about the patch variant!logan, All I can think of is reader getting fucked on a poker table, something with degradation and choking 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

note: Logan would’ve dealt with a thief in a different way then tonight, but he couldn’t resist y/n. He never could, and tonight was a perfect night to do what he’s been dying to do.

———

“What made you think you could still from me, Bub?” Logan asked as his guard brought her over to the man who hadn’t looked at her yet. He was busy counting money with the rest of the table.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I just needed extra money for rent this month,” y/n said, eyes stinging and heart raising. She swore she was careful, but now she was in front of her boss she had only seen a few times.

“Rent? I don’t pay you enough to cover that, hun?” The man asked. She was afraid to answer, but she had to. She didn’t know what he was capable of, but by how his work looked and how many stories she’d heard of people being terrified of him, she was terrified too.

“Yes — My rent went up a couple of months ago, and I don’t have time to work another job,” y/n explained herself, but he looked up phased by her son's story.

“And you ain’t care to ask me to raise your pay?” Logan asked, and she had, but she couldn’t dare ask. “I-I didn’t think of it,” y/n liked, and the man could tell. Hearing the way her heart stuttered was all he needed.

“Oh, but I think you did. You ain’t no dumb girl, now. I know that by how you tried to steal from me,” Logan said before he snapped his fingers, making the guard kick the back of her knees to force her to the ground.

“I just think you didn’t want to ask. Maybe too scared. Think I’d turn you down, which I would’ve, but I still would’ve taken care of you,”

Logan knows everyone who works for him, whether they know it or not. Y/n has been the only loyal and consistent one yet, and he admired that.

What he didn’t admire was how she thought she could take his money and live with life. He wasn’t a cruel man, but he had to teach her something.

“I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again. I-I promise,” y/n said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ll make sure of it,” was all Logan said before he clapped his hands, causing everyone at the table to get up and make their way out.

“Leave her here — I’ve got her,” Logan said speaking to the guards, still not taking his eyes off the money he was counting. When the guard let y/n go, she rubbed her arm and shoulder where the guard at probably bruised her from how tight he had her in his grip.

“Stand up, you look ridiculous,” Logan said to the young girl, making her do as told. “When I hired you, I expected you to be more feisty,” Logan admitted, making her shake her head slowly.

“You’re my boss, sir,” y/n said, not wanting to get fired from the only job that pays her decently. “Do you have respect for me, princess?” Logan asked the girl as he got up. The way he towered over her, made her legs shake.

“Y-Yes, of course, I do, sir,” Y/n said, barely being able to keep eye contact. Any time she saw him, he looked good. She swore he gets more attractive with every interaction.

“Well, ain’t that so,” Logan stepped closer to y/n their bodies touched. “I like a girl who looks up to me. Don’t get much of them around these days — Especially a pretty little thing like you,”

Y/n looked down, too anxious to make eye contact, but that only egged his mind on further.

Logan lifted Y/n’s head with his finger under her chin until her eyes locked in his. She’s never been looked at like this before. She had no clue what to do.

“But taking my money wasn’t so respectful of you, princess. Might show you the consequences that come with disrespect,”

Logan’s other hand slightly gripped y/n’s waist, only making it more obvious how anxious she was. The shivering wasn’t hard to miss or feel from her.

“I’m sorry-“Y/n tried apologizing again, but this time, Logan shushed her as he placed a finger on her lips. “You’ll show me how sorry you are, Bub, don’t worry,” Logan spoke as he revoked his finger.

Y/n wanted to speak and ask the man what she had to do to show him how sorry she was, but she saw how the man leaned toward her before she could speak.

She pulled back, only a couple of inches by the time Logan’s hand wrapped around the back of her head just to grip and tug.

Y/n let out a small yell before her boss's lips fell onto her neck, licking and sucking in a spot she didn’t know could make her mind blank.

Logan groaned into the girl's neck as his hand on her hip pulled her body into his. Y/n wanted to push the man away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Instead, she moaned.

With that, Logan’s lips stopped on her skin. She felt the smirk he had across his lips. He had her within seconds, and she didn’t know it yet.

Before she knew it, Logan turned her around and forced her down on his poker table that he was just counting money on. The man moved all of his money out of the way before tracing his hands up and down her body.

“Gotta keep you to myself after this one, Bub?” Logan said as he touched every inch of her body that he could. “To damn pretty to ignore,”

Logan tugged on y/n’s waistband until he got her dance panties off. She was already exposed before, but now, he could see everything he was going to destroy.

Logan wasted no time sucking on his fingers, coating them in spit before sliding them past her folds. He curled instantly, making her feel a small purr in the lower end of her stomach.

“Wet little things been waitin’ for me, huh? What do you say?” Logan asked y/n, making her whine before she answered. “T-Thank you,”

“As much as I love the submission, I’m still upset about your actions,” Logan pulled out of y/n and forced her around and on her back. Y/n watched as he fumbled with his belt and pulled himself out.

“Sir-“ Before she could speak and tell him he would be too huge for her, he pushed her body back down by her neck, gripping hard and pinning her back onto the table.

“Don’t glätte me angry, Bub. You don’t wanna see that side of me,” Logan said as he shifted in between her legs. Y/n stayed silent since she in fact did not want to see him that way.

“Good girl — So damn obedient,” the man praised before his tip slipped past her folds. Y/n’s walls instantly clenched around him, making it hard for him to go further, but he managed.

“S-Sir,” y/n’s voice cracked as he broke completely past her folds, allowing his tip to graze her g-spot. “Don’t wanna hear it, Bub. I know for a fact you’ve taken cock before — Just look at you. Too pretty to not be a slut,”

Logan placed his free on y/n’s waist to grip down hard. He wanted to earn every noise possible out of her mouth tonight.

“You’re always the best-dressed dancer — You ain’t foolin’ me, Bub,” Logan said as he pounded into her cunt repeatedly. Y/n tapped on his wrist that was closest to her neck to tell him to loosen up, but there was no way he would. Why would he? She belonged to him, so he’d do whatever he pleased with her.

“Cunts so fuckin’ wet, I just know you fuck rich men in your job. Do you? C’mon, baby, I don’t get mad,” Logan lied, knowing he’d flip her right over and abuse her other hole.

“N-No, sir, I swear,” y/n choked on her whine. “Sure you don’t. Sure you don’t spread your legs just like this for a man with a bit of extra cash for you,” Logan kept going, but Logan knew she wouldn’t. He’s watched her private dances plenty of times to make sure of it.

“N-No, I don’t, sir,” y/n’s hands grabbed the man’s arms, trying to brace herself for what was about to come. “Such a good little thing,” Logan’s voice echoed through her head before she let loose all around him.

“That’s it, keep it comin’ and I might let you stay with me,” Logan said, knowing he was going to keep her whether she wanted to stay or not. Deep down, he knew she needed him in ways she hadn’t thought of yet.

“Gonna get this pussy every day after work, do you understand me? That’s all you’ll do. Please and sit on my lap like a pretty piece of candy,”

“O-Okay,” was all y/n could say. Her voice was low and broken. The way his grip tightened around her neck and his thrust sped up, made everything so much harder for her to do.

“Fuck, Bub,” was the last thing Logan before he felt his knees bucking. He wanted to last longer, but it was impossible with how good she looked, sound, and felt. He was keeping her with no doubt.

254 notes · View notes

midnightmah07 · 5 months ago

Text

I KNOW THESE ARE SO MANY IM SORRY????? I JUST THOUGHT "hey what would happen if I like. Made a 50s au or something. And then I went crazy. Yeah. Anyways

I'm not really proud of some of these I mostly just like the chibis and the one drawing of Ruggie kissing Daisy's forehead but it is what it is ya can't always win when it comes to art

I'll be rambling more about this au under the cut bc I'm insane

Ok so AS YOU CAN SEE Daisy and Ruggie's meet cute is like. Literally him stealing from her while she was going back home after buying groceries. I'm not quite sure how Daisy realized her wallet was missing, maybe she needed it for something and then she happened to see Ruggie acting all sus looking at something in his hands and she just linked the dots

After that Ruggie agrees to return her the money in exchange for not being reported to the police (he can't risk his grandma being alone if he ever happens to go to jail from stealing) and to walk her groceries back to her home. After that they randomly see each other on the streets and start calling each other as "Mr. Thief" and "Blondie"

They become attached to each other after hearing each other's life stories, of how Ruggie works to help his grandma and him to survive and get a better life, which Daisy admires, and how Daisy is basically abused by her step family after her dad recently passed away; I like to think someone might've disrespected Ruggie once during his job (maybe he was a waiter or something) and Daisy was present, and while Ruggie didn't wanna say anything to not cause trouble Daisy IMMEDIATELY came to his defense

After that they become like super duper close and are seen together a lot. Later after they start dating Ruggie tells her to just run away and come live with him and his grandma which she denies bc what???? No she doesn't want to be dead weight– but after a lot of convincing and after he tells her it wouldn't be for free anyway, that she'd have to pay rent after finding a job, she agrees and goes with him

Also I like to think Grim is just a regular black cat that was with Daisy ever since she was a baby, and he follows her everywhere... So yeah good luck Daisy your rent is now for u and ur cat

#💙! mah's art #💙! daiggie #fanart #sketch #art #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x yuu #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted Wonderland oc #twst yuu #yuu twisted wonderland #50s au

226 notes · View notes

chososdiscordkitten · 1 year ago

Text

✫Escort!Toji✫

MDNI

Pairing: Escort!Toji x Afab!Reader content: some plot, no use of y/n, reader is a frustrated office worker, toji fucks ur coworkers, reader masturbates to thoughts abt toji, reader isnt a virgin, sub!reader, toji is a bully, teasing, brief oral (f receiving) orgasm denial if u squint, manhandling, missionary n doggy, spanking like once, rough, HE SPITS IN READERS MOUTH, no aftercare:( multiple orgasms (f & m) Toji contemplates stealing ur money ,proofread ONCE

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

You found yourself on your lunch break with your female coworkers, in the cafe below the offices you worked at. Only having worked there a week or so, new to the city and lacking friends.

Quiet as they spoke of their full lives while they ate their sandwiches. Older divorced women with a few kids, you didn't really fit in with them. They were elegant women, experienced in life and sure of what they wanted out of it.

You sat surrounded by them, your hands on your mug of coffee as they spoke about mortgages and how there's a stomach bug going around the school.

One of them called your name, pulling you from your thoughts as you looked up at them, “Do you have a husband?” One of them asked, seeing your face fall.

“No i don't-” you spoke up, seeing a few of them smile when they heard you.

“And a boyfriend?” another asked.

“No-” you tried saying.

“But you're so pretty! New play thing in the city- how could you not have a boyfriend?” One of them asked.

Their questions were not to get to know you. Their voices coated in passive aggressiveness.

“Speaking of- I found a new rent-by-the-hour companion.” one of them chirped, pulling her phone out and showing them a picture.

Forgetting the past conversation as you started to gather your belongings.

Hearing the women swoon over the picture, “This one, he's different. He gets down to it like no other. And he's not nice like the others are. He fucks like he hates you.” you heard her say as you walked away.

You had heard rumors that this city was littered with “companions” for lonely women and men. It didn't take long for you to hear the older women of the office talk about them.

Trading videos and pictures like they were pokemon. If you were being honest, you found it strange. But you knew why people would pay.

You knew what that kind of loneliness felt like. How good it feels to touch another person. To feel their warmth. But your morals couldn't let you hire one. Not desperate enough to have sex with a stranger.

The next few days the ladies of the office kept praising this new wonder of a man. On one occasion seeing his picture, seeing that this wonder of a man was actually attractive.

For weeks you kept hearing more and more. This one man sticking longer than the others did. Hearing their descriptions of his body, of his cock. It got to the point that you contemplated filing a sexual harassment claim with HR, but knowing that the women had seniority, and one of them was head of the HR department.

You knew filing the complaint would bring on more harm than good. So you kept quiet, practically forcing yourself to listen to these conversations.

One day after your lunch break, one of the nicer women called your name. Asking you to wait up. “How are you feeling, hon?” she asked, her face showing genuine worry for you.

“I’m okay, just haven't been able to sleep all that great.” You replied, eyebags showing through your makeup.

“Here, hold on.” she said, pulling out her notepad and writing something down, “This is Toji’s phone number- he's helped me sleep like no other.” She smiled, handing you a piece of paper.

“He's always taking on new clients.” she smiled, hand on your shoulder as you looked at the paper. “If you're ever looking for a companion for a few hours.” She finished, walking past you and disappearing between the cubicles.

You looked down at the paper, grimacing as you read the numbers, seeing ‘Cash only’ written below it.

That paper sat on your nightstand for weeks. Not wanting to throw it out incase of an emergency. Living in the new city without friends was rough. The only things that filled your days were work and sleep.

You had thought back to the one time you had sex, your first year in college with a drunk frat guy. Didn't last longer than 10 minutes, feeling disgusted at his sweaty body on top of you.

“Companion for a few hours huh.” you thought out loud, looking over at the paper. The exhaustion of your job eating away at you. Not even being able to please yourself late at night. It was frustrating, celibacy was frustrating.

Until one night you tried to masterbate, porn not doing anything for you and thoughts of this Toji guy flooded your brain. Remembering how they described him. Tall and muscular. How he ate them out with so much fury.

Feeling your heartbeat rise and a heat shiver down your core. Closing your eyes and picturing the photo they passed around. That was the first time you had come since moving there. Right after you thought you'd give it a chance, not satisfied with your hand and wanting to feel warmth.

Besides, everyone is doing it right? Would it be so bad if you tried it once?

Your shaky thumb typed in the phone number, pressing messages as you typed. ‘Hello, I got your phone number from my coworker, Agatha. Just wanted to see if you were available for service.’ You typed, cringing at how formal it sounded.

And you always hated texting, especially new people. Pressing send as you instantly regret your decision. A few minutes passed, fiddling with your fingers to see if he would respond.

A ding came from your phone as you flew to open it. Only seeing a link to the maps app. Opening it and seeing directions for a love hotel, ‘Friday, 8PM.’ another message dinged as your eyebrows rose.

You gulped, wondering if you were going to be trafficked or murdered by a strange man just because you didn't have patience to try and find a partner. It was wednesday evening, knowing that your nerves wouldn't be settled for two whole days made you uneasy.

The lack of his care of who you were or what you looked like also made you realize that it really was just for money.

The next day was horrible, the feeling in your gut didn't settle. Hearing how highly the women spoke of him. “Last night he was taking me from the back, and I felt him move and I looked back to see him texting someone!” she exclaimed, somehow it was a compliment.

But you felt your heart stop knowing that he was messaging you while fucking your coworker. That evening you couldn't sleep. Picking your phone up and looking at the love hotel location again. You felt uneasy, like anticipation was building inside of you but not in a good way.

Friday came flying in, the work day was slow. So slow that you swore that everytime you looked at the clock it went back five minutes. You finally got off at 5:30, walking home to prepare.

Taking a hot bath as you thought of how badly this could go. Getting out and blow drying your hair, getting ready as though it was a first date. Lotioning your entire body as you waited for your clothes to finish drying. Dragging a darker lipstick on your lips, spraying perfume on your wrists and spreading it to the back of your ears. Putting on the warm clothes fresh out the dryer.

Looking into the mirror before leaving, getting a ding on your phone as you gathered your keys. ’Ask for me at the desk.’ it read. 7:37 on the clock as you walked out.

Your cheeks were warm while walking to the uber you ordered, so if he was a creep, he wouldn't know what car you drove. Wallet stuffed with cash as you didn’t know how much he would charge you.

The driver made a face at you through the rear view mirror, seeing the name of the hotel from the window. You stepped out, looking at the tall building and seeing the glass doors. Walking inside to be greeted by the front desk.

Smile on their face as they asked how they could help you, “I'm looking for Toji’s room?” you asked, looking at the small sign on the desk that showed the prices per hour to rent the rooms. Seeing her look down to the computer and look through the reservations.

“4th floor, room 203.” She smiled, her hand pointing you to the elevators.

You started to feel the lower part of your stomach churn, seeing the numbers flash on top of the elevator as it took you up floor by floor.

The doors beeped open as your eyes laid on the dim hallway. Red colored doors as you walked passed them hearing muffled sounds of moans coming from them.

Your heart was pounding as you walked past room 200. Stepping passed room 202, inhaling sharply before standing in front of room 203. Your hand hesitated to knock, flinching your wrist back before knocking three times.

You heard heavy footsteps walking towards the door, hearing the lock come undone and seeing the black door handle turn. You gulped, eyebrows furrowed as you waited for the door to open. Blinking and seeing him.

A giant of a man before you. Face stern as his eyes scanned you. His eyebrows furrowed, not expecting you to be much younger than his usual clients. “Toji?” you asked, looking up to his face as you noticed a scar on his lip.

“Come in.” He demanded, his voice deeper than you expected, letting go of the door and leaving a small space for you to walk through. You swallowed, stepping past the entrance and leaving your doubts at the door.

Eyes scanning the clean room, lights dim and the curtains open. Flinching when you heard him close the door. “I charge per hour.” He spoke up, walking up behind you as his hands went to your coat. Causing you to slightly jump.

His hands pulled your coat off of you, hanging it on one of the hooks behind the door. “Or per service if that’s what you prefer.” He spoke close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Whichever is fine.” You mumbled, feeling his massive hands rest on your hips, guiding you to the bed. You sat down on the edge, looking up at him as he looked down at your curled eyelashes. He kneeled down to your feet, his hands going to your shoes, slipping them off slowly as you watched him.

Rolling down your knee high socks and tossing them. His hands sliding up your calf as he reached for your skirt, “How do you want it.” He stated, it wasn't a question, he sounded like he already knew the answer.

“Want…It?” you asked, feeling his hands go up your thighs slowly.

He leaned over, smirk on his face as he whispered in your ear. “How do you want me to fuck you.” He clarified, you felt his hand slip past the hem of your skirt, kneading the plush of your thighs.

“Gentle, please.” You whispered back, feeling his body stiffen at your response. Only being used to women telling him they wanted it rough. He pulled back, looking at you in your eyes. Noticing the features on your face.

His hand going closer to your core, pulsating already from his words. He leaned you back, landing on your elbows as you propped yourself up to see him, his free hand tracing down your side down to the zipper on the side of your skirt.

His thick fingers slowly pulled it down as slipped your skirt down. Toji’s hand guiding it down to your ankles, hands sliding up and settling on your knees. His eyes make eye contact with the wet spot forming in your panties.

He spread your thighs, leaning in closer and blowing cool air to your clothed cunt. A needy whine escaped your lips, he leaned in. His tongue slipped past his lips as he licked at the wet spot. Making you almost jump.

A smile on his lips seeing how reactive you were. His hand came up from your thigh, leaning his head back as his thumb dragged from the bottom of your now soaked pantied, up to your clit. You shivered.

“I haven't even done anything and you're already this wet?” he asked, voice low as you whined. Toji’s thumb teasing the tip of your clit as the other held your hip in place.

All you wanted was to grind down on his teasing fingers. But his strong hand wouldn't let you. You could feel the mess in your panties soak down to your ass, back arched as he teased your clit.

“Don't tell me you're already gonna cum just from this?” his tone soaked with cockiness, smile on his face as he teased you, you couldn't let out any words, feeling his thumb rub against you harder as he kissed at your thighs.

Only letting out small moans at his teasing. Toji felt your leg shake against his side, knowing your orgasm was close.

“How pathetic.” he cooed, seeing you buck your hips up against his thumb, seeing white behind your eyes as he degraded you. Cumming at his cruel words. So pent up that it didn't take much for your first orgasm. He smiled, seeing you come undone by nothing.

His fingers traced up to your hips, pulling your panties down, the wet cloth sticking to your cunt as he exhaled, pleased seeing you squirm. His cock throbbed in his pants, seeing your glistening cunt. Clit blushed and practically begged him for attention.

“Oh, this simply won't do.” he said, clicking his tongue as his index finger traced your lips as he tried pressing it into your pulsating cunt.

Feeling a thick finger slide past your entrance, lip in your teeth as you felt Toji’s thumb on your clit again. The rest of his hand firm on your tummy as he circled it slowly.

You hissed feeling his finger curl up, you knew you said gentle but this was agonizing. This wasn't gentle anymore, this was tortuous. He watched as you arched your back, pulling his finger out and looking at your face. His eyes half lidded as he held it before him.

“Open your mouth.” He demanded, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit, soft whines from your lips at his words. Your eyebrows curled upwards, opening your mouth slightly as you saw his hand come closer to your mouth.

Placing it on your plush lips, feeling your own juices on your lips as he pressed it in. Your lips closed around it as your hand went up to his wrist. Holding the side of his palm as you sucked on his thick finger. Moans from your mouth vibrating around it. Tasting yourself on him.

His face was decorated with a sinister smirk. Seeing how eager you were. Toji slowly pulled his finger out of your mouth, seeing how you licked it clean. Tilting his head slightly as it went down again, this time pressing his middle and ring finger at your entrance, circling it as you felt the resistance from your entrance.

His eyes on your flushed face, looking at how your eyebrows furrowed at feeling the tips of his fingers press into you. You whined, his thumb not going fast enough on your clit to give you another orgasm. Toji felt the want to kiss you, leaning into your face as he worked at your cunt.

His thick fingers sliding into you as you squirmed under him, his body now pressed against you as his tongue was deep in your mouth. Toji groaned, being able to taste you on your own tongue. His cock now leaking as his fingers disappeared inside of you. Your cunt squeezed around his fingers as you felt the hand that was on your clit stop circling it.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head when the thumb on the same hand that was thrusting into you replaced it. By then Toji couldn't help himself, his hand going to his cock as he felt your cunt squeeze around his fingers trying to keep them inside, pleads falling from your lips.

You pulled away from him, “Let me cum-” you whined, your hand on his clothed shoulder as his pace didn't speed up.

"Do you think you deserve another one?” He asked, his hand on his cock speeding up as he palmed himself through his pants.

“Please-” You whined, looking into his eyes with tears forming in them. Toji felt his cock throb, seeing you beg for him to let you cum almost made him bust in his pants. He groaned, feeling your spongy walls pulsate around him as his lips brushed against yours.

“Come.” He demanded, his fingers speeding up, your poor clit being abused by his thumb as the hand on his clothed cock sped up. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your mouth falling open as you felt him take your orgasm from you.

His nose scrunched, seeing your face churn as he abused your cunt. His cock releasing inside his pants. Toji pressed his hot mouth to your open one, his groans vibrating in you as you felt his thumb keep its fast pace against your clit. Making you squirm.

Your hips bucked up against him as he pulled his fingers out of you. His thumb falling from your clit as his lips fell from yours, pulling his fingers up between your lips, he groaned seeing that you had creamed around them. He looked into your eyes as he slipped them into his mouth, craving the brief taste that he tasted on your tongue earlier.

Your eyebrows furrowed seeing his actions, your cunt squeezing against nothing in reaction. You leaned in, licking at his knuckles while your eyes never left his. Licking up the mess that had dripped down his hand.

Toji pulled his fingers out, pressing them against your lips. His mouth opened as he watched you kiss them. Inhaling air as you looked at him through your thick eyelashes. Dried streams of mascara beneath your eyes as he felt his cock harden even more.

He took his free hand and traced it up your leg, slowly inching you up the bed till you were pressed against the pillows. His hand slipped up your knitted shirt, pulling it up above your tits. Pretty pink bra holding back what he ached for.

His lips brushed against yours as he cupped one of your breasts, the other going to your back. You lifted your shoulders so he could release you from the cute pink prison that held your breasts.

Your hands pull your top off, feeling Toji’s fingers undo the clasps. He pulled it off of you and wasted no time latching to your neglected nipple, the other kneading your soft tit. He groaned when he inhaled, feeling the scent of your perfume and the sweetness of your skin fill his nose.

At that moment, Toji had forgotten what he was there for. His cock made decisions for him as his mouth sucked harshly on your nipple.

You whined, your hands holding his head as the other went to his clothed shoulder. “I want you inside.” You moaned, feeling his teeth graze your nipples. Toji pulled away, his back straightening as he looked down at you.

Cock so hard he was sure it would rip a hole through his pants. He pulled his shirt off, revealing scars on his chest and a prominent v line. His happy trail made your cunt throb.

He reached into his pocket, finding the small square of foil, placing a corner to his teeth as he ripped it open. You nibbled on your lip, seeing the gold foil read ‘magnum’.

He slipped his soiled pants down, kicking them off as you hissed seeing his thick cock. The tip was bright pink, precum falling from his slit and the shaft dark at the base. Your eyes scanned his heavy balls.

Propped on your elbows as you looked at it, mouth watering at the sight, you knew it was going to rip you in half. But you were always up for a challenge. You saw him place the rolled up rubber on his leaking tip. Seeing his hand roll it down to his base. Cock so huge that the condom didn't even reach the base, stopping an inch or two above.

If it was up to Toji, he would've gone raw. But he didn't want to risk it, knowing you were a new client. He propped himself above you, placing a wet kiss to your lips as he pressed the tip of his fat cock to your entrance. You whined against his mouth, Toji pulled away seeing his face wasn’t as stern as before.

His eyebrows knitted as he muttered, “Open your mouth.” his teeth clenched seeing you obey him without hesitation. His eyes on yours. He sucked his tongue, collecting saliva in his mouth before spitting it on your tongue. Toji’s fat head pushing at your entrance. You felt it sting as you swallowed his spit.

He hissed seeing you swallow so eagerly. His head now fully in your cunt. “It's so big-” you whined, your hand going down to his shaft and guiding him to go deeper, your poor cunt starved of cock for too long. He groaned, hearing your whiney tone but still taking it.

Feeling his cock go deeper inside of you. You let out a loud moan, feeling his tip curve up to your sweet spot. His hips trying their best not to shove his cock fully into you, knowing his pay depended on this. He groaned, his hands went to your hips.

He couldn't take it, he flipped you over. Manhandling you as his hands fell to your ass. You moaned feeling his cock shift inside of you. Your face buried in the pillows as he pushed himself into you.

Now on your knees with your back arched. Sweat made his hair stick to his forehead as he looked down at you. His hands groping handfuls of your plump ass as he bit his lip. Throwing his head back as you clenched around him.

You moaned into the pillows as you felt him start to pull out of you. His size causing tears to fall from your face, black streams falling from your cheeks onto he white pillows. His thrusts started slow, but little by little he thrusted faster, wanting to cum inside so badly.

He gave you a firm spank on your ass causing you to cry out. Frustration in his groans as his hand found its way to the nape of your neck. Pulling you up to him as your eyes cried, feeling another orgasm pool in your womb.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he groaned into your ear, his hand on your neck as the other held your hip up. His thrusts harder into you, bullying your poor cunt as he snaked his hand down to your clit. Your hands reached down to his hips that snapped to your ass at light speed, in hopes to relieve the ache from it.

Feeling like his rough thrusts were some kind of punishment. Trying to push his cock out a little so it wouldn't sting. You cried out as his thrusts became faster as you came on his cock, his finger on your clit as his hand on your neck roamed up to your cheek.

“Please- Please-Please-” you cried out feeling overstimulated, moaning as his cock pulled out of you, leaving only the tip inside, before ramming it in again. Toji’s hand on your face holding you up as your knees wobble. Struggling to keep yourself up right.

He looked down to see his cock slipping in and out of you. Groaning when he saw you cream around him. His fingers on your clit made you cum again, your knees buckled forcing you to fall back down, trying to hold yourself up on your knees. His cock not even hesitating to stop as he used you.

Toji’s hands now holding your hips up so he can angle himself. “Fuucckk-” he moaned, your cunt still tight around him as he heard your cries into the mattress. He snapped his hips forward. Feeling his orgasm flow out of him.

Wishing he had cum inside of your pretty cunt. He thrusted into you once more, slow as his body twitched. His big hands on your waist as he placed his forehead on your back, placing wet kisses to your spine. Keeping his cock inside of you as you exhaled. He pulled himself out of you, seeing the mess in between your thighs as he tipped over next to you on his back. Heavy breathing as he felt his cock soften.

He looked over at you, a smile on your face as your eyes fluttered closed. Smeared makeup around your eyes as he came down from the high. His eyebrows now softened, his face fucked out as though that was some kind of therapy for him.

He sat up, taking the filled condom and tossing it in the trash. Standing up and walking to the chair in the corner of the room. You flipped over, hazy eyes looked at his body. Seeing him pick up a thin sheet off the chair and tossed it to you.

He slipped his soiled pants back on not caring if people saw his mess, a small smile on his face as he saw you nuzzled up to the pillows. Silence filled the room as he put his clothes on, reaching down to where he had tossed your panties, discreetly picking them up and sliding them into his pocket as his prize.

He looked over at you, already asleep as he walked to your coat. He hesitated in taking the money out of your wallet. Normally he didn’t enjoy sex with his clients, always bored while fucking.

But it didn’t feel right charging you for fucking. Knowing you had asked for him to be gentle, guilt in his stomach knowing he used you for his own pleasure. Knowing he was too rough. He settled on just letting you pay for the room, thinking it was some sort of compromise.

Heavy feet walking over to your sleeping body. His cock throbbing as he saw your hard nipples through the thin white sheet. Filthy thoughts clouded his mind as he considered waking you up fuck again.

Cock hardening as he reminisced on how tight you were. He wondered why you were trying to pay for sex. Considering you were younger than his usuals, and much, much more beautiful than they were. He leaned down, placing a wet kiss to your sleeping lips before leaving. Noticing a pep in his step as he walked out of the hotel. Toji knew that he had to save your number in his phone.

Wanting to know if it was you if you texted him again. Only to see he didn't even catch your name, saving your name in his phone as “Tight cunt” with a smile on his lips. Hoping you'd shoot him a text again, and soon.

PT 2 HERE

I hope there's an audience for this one, this has been a thought ive been fighting the whole day. im already thinking abt pt 2 help me. I hate him sm he's such a bum. nobody tell choso ok

#toji fushiguro #jjk #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #jjk x reader #i hate him #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk s2 #toji x chubby reader

613 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 6 months ago

Text

Pretty Woman {Max Lord x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6k

Warnings: Prostitution, sex work, mentions of drug use, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, mentions of classicism and discrimination, anal sex, public sex, domestic violence, assault

Comments: A chance encounter on the boulevard has Max Lord paying to spend a night with you, then the week. Giving you an experience you never imagined.

A/N: Obviously based off Pretty Woman with Julia Roberts, but we did not add any physical descriptions of the reader beyond being able to wear clothing from Rodeo Drive

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Max Lord MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The boulevard is busy tonight. Cars pass by but no one stops to pick you up. You sigh, reaching up to scratch your scalp under the itchy blonde bob wig you're wearing. Your feet are starting to ache in these ridiculous boots Kit gave you to wear. "We say what. We say who. We say how much." Kit reminds you as you stand on your corner and your head turns when a sports car comes along the street, the gears grinding. "Catch this." Kit says and your eyes widen, "that's a Lotus Esprit." You exclaim, watching the car come to a screeching stop.

"No. That's rent. You should go for him." Kit says and you huff, "you look hot tonight. Don't take less than one hundred." She finishes, reminding you once again that your rent is due tonight. "Call me when you're through and take care of you." She says and you nod, adjusting your dress after you give her a hug. You take your jacket off, swaying your hips as Kit tells you to work it and you approach the car.

"You can handle this." Max says to himself as he fiddles with the gearshift.

"Hey sugar, you looking for a date?" You ask as you lean in the window.

"No, I wanna find Beverly Hills, can you give me directions?" Max asks, clearly frustrated and you smother your smirk.

"Sure....for five bucks." You say and Max scoffs, "that's ridiculous."

You shrug, "price just went up to ten." Max looks at you incredulously, "you can't charge for directions."

You chuckle, "I can do whatever I want baby, I ain't lost." You shift away from his window and he sighs, "fine. You got change for a twenty?" He asks and you shake your head as you get in the front seat.

"For that, I can show you personally. This is a hot car. Uh, lights would be good." You tell him as he pulls away from the curb. He comes to a stop at the light and you can tell he's struggling to drive this car. "What's your name?" He asks you after telling you he did not steal the car.

"What do you want it to be?" You ask and he turns to look at you with those dark eyes that seem to look through you. You sigh and give him your name. He tells you he's staying at the Beverly Wiltshire and you are impressed, giving him directions. "This car is amazing. Four cylinders and it rounds corners like it's on rails." You exclaim and Max looks at you, "you know about cars?" He asks and you shrug, "grew up around it at home. Mustangs...corvettes...they'd fix 'em up and sell 'em." You explain and the gears grind.

"You ever driven a Lotus?" Max asks and you shake your head. "Well, you're going to now." He says and you're soon behind the drivers wheel.

"These have pedals that are really close together so it's easier for a woman to drive." You tell him, "good for little feet. Did you know your foot is the length of your wrist to your elbow?" You ask Max who stares at you in amusement.

"No, I didn't know that." He confesses, "tell me...what kind of money do you girls make nowadays?" Max asks.

"No less than $100..." You say, "a night?" Max raises his eyebrows and you shake your head, "an hour."

"An hour?" He asks, "you make $100 an hour and you got a safety pin holding your boot up? You gotta be joking." He snorts and you shrug, "I never joke about money."

Max chuckles, "neither do I. $100 an hour is pretty stiff." He says and you smirk, sliding your hand into his lap to press your hand into his groin, "well, no, but it's got potential." You tease until you pull your hand back and focus on driving to the Wiltshire.

Max looks out over the city and his stomach twists with nerves and anticipation. He is here to make his mark, to take over a company that had once looked down on him, refused to do business with him. Now he is poised to take over. To dismantle it piece by piece as soon as the deal is done. Despite his thousand dollar suits and suite at the Beverly Wiltshire, he’s not as confident as he pretends to be. “How much for the night.” He asks suddenly, deciding that he will do better if he spends the night with a beautiful woman and you are that.

You smirk, looking over at him. "Honey, you couldn't afford me." He snorts, "try me." You squeeze the steering wheel, "three hundred." You tell him, knowing you need to pay your rent.

Max mulls it over for a second before he nods, "done."

You internally squeal, knowing Kit is gonna be so proud of you. You pull up outside of the hotel and he is greeted by the doorman. "Welcome, Mr. Lord." You are impressed and he glances at your dress, shrugging off his Burberry trench coat.

"Put this on." He says and you frown, following his order.

"Great. Now I look like a hooker in a trench coat." You joke and his eyes meet yours for a second before he's heading into the hotel. "Holy shit." You hiss in shock at the expensive decor. He checks in and orders champagne and strawberries for the room. "Ooo fancy." You coo, caressing his back and trying to ignore the stares of everyone in the lobby of the hotel. He is soon escorting you to the escalator and you notice the woman looking at you with disdain so you lift your leg up onto the silver trash can by the escalator. "Oh no, honey. I've torn my pantyhose." You huff and caress your thigh. "Oh wait...I'm not wearing them." You giggle, winking at the woman's husband before you lower your leg. The escalator doors open and you rush in, excited to see this hotel room.

Max tuts, smirking slightly at your moxie as he follows you inside. He’s decided that he likes you. You aren’t stiff and boring, just like his ex-wife accused him of being. Pressing the button for the penthouse, he watches your eyes widen dramatically. He doesn’t expect that your clients often take you to the penthouse. He watches you fidget, wondering what you will do with the three hundred dollars he is paying you. Hopefully it’s not for drugs.

When the elevator arrives, the bellboy watches you as you walk down the hall to the double doors and Max turns to look at him, eyebrows raised, until the young man's face falls and he straightens up. Max unlocks the door and you walk in, mouth open as you take in the lavish suite. "Impressed?" He asks and you shrug, "you kidding me? I come here all the time. As a matter of fact, they do rent this room by the hour." You tease him, walking out onto the balcony. "I bet you could see all the way to ocean from here." You exclaim and Max sits down at the desk, "come inside." He tells you, "I don't go out there."

You frown as you walk in, setting your purse down on the sofa. "Why not?" You ask and he sighs, "I'm afraid of heights." You snort, "then why'd you get the penthouse?"

Max straightens up a little, "it's the best." He declares and you nod, confused by his desire to have 'the best of everything' and yet he hired you for the night.

"Now that I'm here...what do you want to do?" You ask, biting your lip and he sighs, "I - I don't really know." You are surprised by this. Most men would've already been having a smoke after getting their orgasm over with. You sit down on the sofa, "well...one way to break the ice is to pay me." You tell him and he nods, reaching into his jacket for his pocket book and he pulls out three one hundred dollar notes. You move to sit down on the edge of his desk and take the cash, shoving it in your boot.

"You're on my fax." Max tells you and you chuckle tilting to the side so he can pull the paper out from under your ass, "well that's one I haven't been on before." You unzip your boot, pulling out the condoms you keep there. "Right. Pick one. I got red, I got blue. I'm out of purple. I have one gold coin left. The condom of champions. Nothing getting through this sucker." You flick it and lean closer to him.

He stands up and you reach for his jacket. "Right, let's get one of these on you?" You suggest and he shakes his head, "why don't we just talk for a bit?" You click your tongue, "talk. Yeah, uh, okay. Max...are you in town for business or pleasure?" You ask, watching him sit down on the sofa and you move to straddle him but he moves so you sit down on the ottoman. "I think you're a lawyer." You guess, crossing your arms and leaning forward to let him see your cleavage.

His eyes flicker down to your chest and he can’t help the way his cock twitches in his suit trousers. “Business.” He answers. “Not a lawyer, lawyers are bloodsucking bastards.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at how much his team of lawyers costs him per hour.

You giggle, reaching out to caress his thighs as he reclines against the sofa. “Ain’t that the truth.” You say just as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. Make myself useful.” You stand up and walk over to the door. The hotel worker is surprised when his eyes trail down your dress and he asks where you want the champagne. “Where do we want it?” You ask Max.

“On the bar.” He says and the man carries it over. He stands there after he sets it down and stares at you expectedly.

“What you looking at?” You ask and Max sighs, standing up and pulling a note out of his pocket. “Here.” Max says and the man nods, “thank you sir.” He exits the door and Max comes over to pop the champagne.

“Oh.” It’s cute, the way you deflate slightly when you realize you had been a little overzealous in your attitude towards the bellboy. “Here.” He pours a flute of champagne and hold it out to you. “Have it with a strawberry.”

You frown, “why?” You take a large gulp of the champagne before you bite on the strawberry.

“Just relax. I got some work to do.” He says and walks over to the desk. You frown at his retreating form and you sit down and grab the tv remote. You turn it on to an old episode of “I love Lucy” and you lay down on your stomach with the strawberries and champagne.

Max looks up from the report and smiles as he watches you. You’re kicking your feet and laughing like a little kid. It’s sweet and you don’t seem like a woman of the night, even with your provocative dress on. It’s honestly a joy to watch you and he has to tear himself away to look back down at the report.

You giggle at the show until Max tells you he’s done with his work. “So…you wanna keep talking?” You ask Max after you sit down on the sofa beside him. He stares at you for a second, his dark eyes burning into you in a way you’ve never felt before, and he slowly shakes his head. He leans in towards you but you pull back, “I have one rule. I don’t kiss.” You tell him and he nods. “Tell me what you like.” You demand softly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t really know.” Max admits softly. He knows you are more experienced, you have sex for a living. “What do you like? For yourself?” He knows that he will cum no matter what, but he would like to learn something that maybe he doesn’t know. Which wouldn’t be hard to do.

You’re surprised. No one ever asks you that. You never ever expect to cum or receive pleasure. You’re here to do a job. To make him feel good. “I, uh, I like to ride. I like to feel a little in control.” You confess, knowing that most men want to fuck you from behind to make them feel powerful.

“Okay.” He nods seriously, thinking about how he feels about that. “Then ride me.” He decides. “You choose the condom you’re comfortable with, and you can decide how fast you go.”

You nod, taking the gold condom from your boot before you pull them to the side, taking off your socks as well. He watches you, making no moves, and you decide to make this good for him. You set your boots aside and place the condom on the coffee table, grabbing a cushion from the sofa, you kneel between his legs and rub the bulge in his expensive slacks. “I want to suck your cock first.”

He’s surprised that you want to do that, his cock twitching in interest. “You don’t have to.” He promises. “I’m not- it’s not- you want to?” He is a little breathless at the prospect.

You nod, reaching for his Gucci belt buckle to undo it and you unbutton his pants. “Wanna make you feel good.” You murmur as you reach in to pull his hard cock out of his pants. He’s thick and your mouth waters as you lean in to lick a stripe along the underside.

“Oh fuck.” Max chokes out, his head dropping back against the sofa cushions and his eyes close. Your tongue is hot and wet against his cock and makes his stomach twist in pleasure. “Do you- do you like doing this?” He pants out quietly, a little more of his accent slipping out involuntarily.

You pull back, wrapping your fingers around him. “I don’t do this.” You confess, “I- I wanted to do this for you.” It’s true. You never allow oral but you want to do this for him after he’s shown you such a good time already. “I love doing this baby.” You coo, taking his head into your mouth and keeping your eyes on his.

Max groans, twitching in your mouth and biting his lip so he doesn’t grab your head. You are the one setting the pace and he finds it intoxicating. You are so pretty looking up at him with his cock in your mouth. “So pretty.” He praises. “It’s so good, baby, you’re so good to me.”

His slight accent has you getting wet and you moan around him, loving the way he groans and praises you. Your hands caress his thighs, still clad in a designer suit, but you take his cock a little deeper. Your spit combined with his pre-cum dribbling into the material. You moan around him, closing your eyes as you widen your jaw and breathe through your nose.

“It’s been so- so fucking long since I’ve had this.” Max moans out the confession, sure that it’s the best fucking blow job he’s ever had. “You gotta- gotta stop.” He pants out. “Gonna cum if you don’t.” His cock throbs and he wants nothing more than to spill down your throat but he wants you to ride him. He wants to feel your cunt around his cock.

You pull off of him, letting him decide what his body needs, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before you stand up. Your eyes meeting his as you slowly begin to remove your clothes, wanting to give him a show when he’s paying a lot of money for you. You tease, turning around and bending over as you remove your panties, his dark eyes fixed on your body as his chest heaves. When you turn around, you move to straddle his lap and lean in to run your nose along his jaw.

Max hums, still nearly completely dressed with just his slacks opened and his cock pulled out. It’s slightly sexier this way, with you naked on top of him. His hands are hovering over your hips for a few moments before he touches you. Groaning out loud when he grips your flesh and realizes this is actually going to happen.

You reach out to grab the condom, opening the foil packet and you pinch the tip before you work it down his cock. “Shit. You’re so thick.” You murmur, admiring him for a second before you move closer, lifting up to notch him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him, your eyes on his face as you take him inside of you for the first time.

“Shiiiiiiiit” Max hisses, loving how tight you are as you slide down his cock. Taking him deep until your ass is against his thighs. He twitches deep inside your hot walls and he grits his teeth to keep from moving. “Holy shit, baby. You’re so tight. So hot.”

You watch him struggle with the need to take over. You can tell he’s used to being in control. You love the strain in his jaw as you start to slowly lift off of him. The slight whine that escapes his clenched teeth as you lift up until only the tip remains inside of you, then you slowly sink back down. “You can touch me, baby.” You remind him, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” He slides his hands over your hips and up to cup your tits. “You are so- so tight.” He groans. “Are you going to ride me or tease me?” He demands with a pout, groaning again when you clench down around him. He’s so close to cumming already and you’ve barely started riding him.

You tut, reaching up to grab his cheeks, “I’m in control of pace, remember?” You remind him, clenching around him again and he almost whimpers. Fuck, it’s intoxicating to have a man like him, powerful and rich, whimper for you. You take pity after a second, shifting to grab his shoulders for leverage as you start to move on top of him.

Max nearly whimpers again when you slowly roll your hips, your cunt locking down around him like a vice. You’re gorgeous and your mouth watering tits are in his face. “Can I suck on them?” He asks you desperately, wanting to touch you and make you feel as good as he does.

You nod, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, dragging his face to your chest. You moan when he wraps his lips around your nipple, biting down softly and you move your hips a little faster, loving the way he stretches him out.

It’s been a long fucking time since he’s fucked anyone and even longer than that since someone ridden him. He loves it though. For a moment, he pretends that you aren’t being paid and you want him. His cock twitches every time he sucks on your tit and it’s only when it’s hard and puffy does he switch over to the other.

Usually, you barely react to sex. It’s a job. Something to pay your rent and you’ve perfected the art of moans and whimpers to make the man paying you cum quicker. Tonight though, you’re in no rush. Max’s hands caress your back and his lips suck on your nipple, making you whimper and throw your head back. It’s the best you’ve felt having sex in so long. He’s thick and you feel him in places that seemed forgotten with your other clients. The control you have is intoxicating and you rock your hips a little faster, trying to find that spot that makes you cum.

Max groans into your flesh, his hands sliding down to your ass and squeezing. He doesn’t try to guide you, just rolls with your movement as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Enjoying it so much more that he had before because of the moans you give him. You’re incredible and you don’t make him feel inadequate.

“Fuck.” You hiss and grind forward, adjusting the angle and you moan at the way his cock hits just right inside of you. You bounce a little faster, “oh God. I- I’m gonna cum.” You confess breathlessly. You never orgasm with a customer. Most just rut into you until they cum a minute later but Max has you shaking above him.

“Don’t fake.” He begs, not wanting you to pretend like his ex wife claimed she did all throughout their marriage. “Want you to really cum for me.”

“Not- not faking.” You promise and reach for his hand, bringing it to your clit. “Rub.” You demand breathlessly and he wastes no time rubbing your clit. It’s perfect. The angle and his touch. You rock a half dozen more times until you cry out, clamping down on his cock and you moan his name.

Max chokes out a moan, Finding you completely gorgeous as you shake apart for him. Your cunt is like a vice around him and he’s not going to be able to hold out. “Fuck, baby.” He hisses, leaning forward and burying his mouth against your pulse to keep from kissing you as he starts to fill the condom.

You moan as he cums, caressing his shoulders and back, and you rock him through it. “So good, baby. So good.” You murmur as he groans into your skin.

You weren’t faking, you couldn’t have faked that. Max moans into your skin, sighing softly when he relaxes. “Fuck.” He pants, still breathing you in. Your perfume is surprisingly bright and clean and he enjoys it. “That was amazing.”

You are pleased he’s happy. Reaching down to grip the base of his cock before you lift off of him, slumping down on the sofa as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t had an orgasm in so long and you turn to look at Max. “Satisfied, Mr. Lord?” You ask teasingly.

Max hums, still blissful from his orgasm. “Call me Max.” He murmurs. “I think that I might actually sleep tonight.” His hand slides over to stroke your thigh. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You nod, “I did. It’s rare that I do but there’s something about you.” You admit, placing your hand on his. “Well, I’ll get my clothes.” You say but his grip on your thigh tightens.

“Don’t go yet. I paid for the night. Stay. Have a shower.” He offers and you nod, knowing it will be hard to get home this late.

Max tucks himself away and settles back down with another report while you go into the bathroom. After a few minutes he hears the water start and then some singing. Making him pause and listen for a minute before he starts to grin. It’s off key and pitch, but enthusiastic. Making him shake his head as he looks back down.

You sing in the shower, cleaning off until you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “I, uh, I don’t really have anything to wear.” You tell him as you glance at your tiny dress and he nods, standing up and making his way over to his closet to open it and take a white shirt out. “Here you go.” He says and you drop the towel, shrugging on his shirt and buttoning it up. “Thank you.” You wink at him and make your way over to the champagne bucket to pour another glass for each of you.

There something about having you here. Just your presence is nice, different from the austere penthouse. He’s not lonely. You turn the tv back to another older show and bring both of the glasses over to where he is sitting and plop down beside him.

You giggle as you watch the show while he looks over his reports again until you are closing your eyes in exhaustion. "Sleep." Max orders, jerking his chin towards the bedroom. You nod, stumbling into the bedroom and Max pulls the covers over you as you settle into the ridiculously soft bed. Max doesn't get in beside you, he closes the door and gets back to his reports, deciding to shower after you're asleep. You huff as the wig you've been wearing all night - even in the shower- digs into you so you grab it from your head and toss it on the chair, pulling off the hair net to let your hair free. You sigh as you settle back in and are soon passed out in a place you never expected to sleep.

It’s after two in the morning when Max decides to go to bed. Showering and then changing into fresh boxers, he stops when he sees you laying in the bed. The short blonde wig was obvious just that, but your natural hair is beautiful. You look so serene, sleeping on your stomach facing the empty side of the bed. As if you are waiting on him. He smiles softly as he climbs in beside you and turns to watch you sleep until his own eyes close.

When you wake up, the sunlight is shining through the curtains and you get up to pee and use some of his toothpaste to freshen your breath. Your hair is a mess but you try to fix it as you walk out into the living area in his shirt. "Hi." You say to Max as he is sitting at the table with his back to you.

He turns to look at you and nods, "good morning." You run your hands along your sides and bite your lip, "I, uh, wig." You point at your hair and Max smiles softly, "I like it." Your heart thumps at that but you push it aside, "I can get my clothes and go." You say but Max shakes his head, "come sit down. Have some breakfast. I, uh, I didn't know what you like so I got one of everything." He lifts the silver lids up and your eyes widen. "Wow. Thanks." You reach out to pick up a croissant and he picks up his reports. "So Max. You aren't a lawyer...what exactly is it you do?"

“Merger and acquisitions.” Max tells you, folding his newspaper over and smirking at you. “I make money.”

“Right. That explains everything.” You snort sarcastically. “So you’re smart, huh?” You ask and he looks at you. “I didn’t finish eleventh grade.” You confess, “how much school did you do?” You ask him and he tilts his head, “I went all the way.” Your eyebrows raise but you’re not really shocked. He seems smart. “Wow. Good for you. So what are you in town working on now?” You ask and he sighs, “I’m working on acquiring a company for a billion dollars and -”

You choke at hearing the figure. “One - one billion?” You ask and he nods. “Oh God. That’s - you really are smart. So you get the company and then what?” You ask, ever curious.

“I buy it and then break it apart. Sell off the assets for more money than I bought the company for.” He explains, “I wasn’t this successful when I got started. Had a lot of fuck ups but I have learned along the way.”

You gesture to the suite, “clearly.” He stands up, “I’m going to get ready.” He says and you watch him go and change into his suit. He comes out ten minutes later in a bespoke suit but he’s struggling with his tie. You walk over to him to help and soon perfect a Windsor knot. “How do you know how to do this?” He inquires, his dark eyes on yours.

You smirk, “I screwed the whole debate team.” He chuckles and you wink at him. “My grandpa was a sweet man and he’d go to church so I’d help him with his tie.” You tell him the truth and he nods, reaching behind you to grab his briefcase. “Can I have a bath before I leave?” Max nods and you smile, kissing his cheek before you disappear into the bathroom and the phone rings.

It’s Max’s assistant, informing him that the owners of the company have invited him to some functions while he is in town. Frowning, he remembers that he cannot show up to these functions without a date, he had told James Morse that he had been in a relationship and Jessica had broken up with him because he was always working. To be fair, he had just spent a month away dismantling another company and hadn’t seen her in nearly forty-five days. The singing in the bathroom had started up again, this time it sounds like you are skinning a cat and he grins, telling his secretary to accept the invitations on his behalf and a date. Hanging up, he walks into the bathroom to find you have drawn a bubble bath and have headphones on as you screech along. Chuckling, he stands next to the tub and waits for you to notice him.

You continue singing until you open one eye and see Max perched on the edge of the tub. You throw the headphones for the walkman on the side and internally groan in embarrassment. "Mr. Lord." You greet him, trying to act cool, "Don't you just love Prince?" You grin and he shakes his head.

"More than life itself." You shake your head, "don't you knock?"

Max sighs and says your name, "I have a business proposition for you." You ask him what he wants. "I am going to be in town until Sunday and I'd like you to spend the week with me."

You grin, unable to believe your luck. "Why? You're a rich man. Handsome. You could have anyone... for free." You add and he shakes his head, "I want a professional. I don't want romantic entanglements." You chew the inside of your cheek for a second, "as much as I'd love to be your beck and call girl, it's gonna cost you." You hum and he leans closer, "How much?"

You tap your chin, "six-night, the days too...$4000."

His eyebrows raise, "at $300 a night, it's $1800." He tells you and you shrug, "days too." He sighs, "$2000."

You shake your head, "$3000." Max nods, "deal." Your eyes widen and you can't help but sink under the bubbles, unable to believe your luck.

Max smirks as he watches you do a little dance under the water and then immediately come back up. “Yes! Yes.” You gasp out, wiping the soapy bubbles from your face. “I’m your girl.”

He chuckles. “Good, now, I’m going to need you to go get a cocktail dress. Something nice. These are important people and I want you to look the part.” He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a money clip, peeling crisp hundred dollar bills off until he feels like you have enough, about $1200 dollars and holds it out to you.

Your eyes widen as you stare in shock at the money in your hands. "What do you want me to get?" You ask, climbing out of the bath and following him as he rushes through the penthouse, getting his jacket and briefcase.

"Classy. Not too sexy. Elegant." He says and you roll your eyes, "boring then." He nods, walking over to the door, "go shopping. Have fun." You nod and watch him go, the door shutting behind him and you rush into the bedroom, squealing in delight at your luck.

Eventually you calm down and call Kit, giving her the good news. You ask her where to go shopping and she says, "one place in Beverly Hills...Rodeo Drive." You tell her you're leaving the rent money at the desk and you get ready, making your way downstairs to leave the money and you head over to Rodeo Drive.

The boutique that you walk into is obviously expensive and the workers there are immediately suspicious of you. “Oh my god.” Cordelia whispers to her co-worker. “A prostitute just walked into our store, can you believe it?” She purses her lips and continues to go through the clothes on the rack even though you are asking for help.

You ask her about the clothes on the mannequin, at a complete loss of what to do in a store like this. “How much is this?” You ask and she lightly scoffs under her breath.

“It’s very expensive.” She says, “I don’t think it would fit.”

You huff, “I didn’t ask if it would fit, I asked how much.”

She sighs, looking at her colleague, “I don’t think we have anything in here that would work for you.” She says and your stomach drops. You feel sick. You swallow back the tears and rush out of the store. Making your way back into the hotel, you get accosted by the manager, asking you who you’re here to see. “Maxwell Lord.” You tell him and his eyes widen, looking at the bellboy who confirms you are staying in the penthouse.

“Come this way.” He says, escorting you to his office. “This isn’t your usual hotel, Miss. This is the Beverly Wiltshire. This is a fine establishment and we don’t have women like you staying here.” You nod, feeling reprimanded but you won’t be defeated, not with $3000 on the line. “Mr. Lord, however, is a valued customer and he spends a lot of money here. We can overlook your…occupation for his sake. If anyone asks, you’re his niece. Understood?” He says, eyes burning into you and you nod.

“Yes sir.” The manager nods, “now, Mr. Lord has a reservation at our restaurant tonight and I’d assume you’re attending with him. Do you have anything else to wear?” He asks and you shake your head.

“I went to Rodeo and they were so rude. They treated me like trash. I- I don’t have anything else.” You pull out the money Max had given you. “I have all this money and no dress.”

The manager nods, picking up his phone. “Women’s department, Bridget please.” He asks and waits for a brief moment. “Ah yes, Marie. I have a situation that would benefit from your expertise. I need someone to bring over a black cocktail dress for one of our guests for dinner with her uncle. Yes, black heels. A clutch. Also, send one of your girls for hair and makeup.” He says before he puts down the phone. You’re astonished and he claps his hands. “Now, let’s get you to the room and they will be here soon for you to get ready for dinner.” You nod, letting him escort you through the hotel and back to your room.

A knock on the door comes soon enough and a primly dress woman in a pencil skirt and a silk white blouse is at the door. “Hello!” She smiles brightly at you, her expression never changing when she sees your provocative dress. “My name’s Bridget.” She holds out her hand and you shake it.

“Yeah, hi. Barney said you’d be nice to me.”

Bridget blushes slightly at the mention of the hotel manager. “He’s very sweet.” You hum and she moves on. “What are your plans while you are in town?” You cross your arms over your chest nervously. “I’m gonna have dinner.”

She nods. “Then you need a cocktail dress. I’ve pulled a section of dresses that will be perfect. I’m sure that you’ll find something that your uncle will love.” There is a rack in the hall that is loaded down with dresses and she moves to bring it inside. Correctly guessing your size, she asks you to confirm it. Your eyes widen in amazement. “Yeah. How did you know that?”

Bridget smiles. “Well, that’s my job.” She replies easily, having to accurately guess women’s sizes all day long.

“Bridge?” You bite your lip. “He’s not really my uncle.” You confess.

“They never are, dear.” She assures you.

****

You tap your fingers on the bar in the lounge as you wait for Max, he’s late. You would order a drink but you’re terrified to do something wrong at dinner. To mess up the cutlery order that Mr. Thompson had so willingly taught you. You don’t notice Max enter the lounge until he’s nearly leaving again. You turn your head to look at him just as he meets your eyes and you smile, hoping he likes your new outfit.

Max is astonished. The transformation is nearly unbelievable. You look every inch the sophisticated woman with your cocktail dress, your hair and makeup styled elegantly. He smiles slightly, unable to believe that he gets to escort such a beautiful woman to dinner, despite it being a business transaction. Watching as you gather your clutch and walk over to meet him. “You’re late.” You tease and he is quick to reply.

“You’re stunning.” He means it, but you giggle slightly.

“You’re forgiven.

Max hums and turns to offer his arm like a gentleman. “Shall we go to dinner?”

****

“Mr. Morse. It’s great to meet you.” Max greets the older man, “great to meet you. This is my grandson. He’s a fireball. David.” He gestures to the younger man who seems embarrassed by his grandfather. Max introduces you as his friend and you shake both men’s hands. The chair is pulled out for you and you move to sit down until you decide to stand again. All three men stand and Max asks where you’re going.

“I’m going to the ladies room.” You tell him and he tells you where to go.

“Shall I order for you?” He asks and you immediately respond, “yeah” until you remember yourself. “Yes. Please do so.” You correct yourself and walk off to the bathroom.

Max can see every man’s eyes at the table on you. Proud of the choice he had made in bringing you here. “She’s charming, isn’t she?” He asks before the three of them order. When you come back, the first course is being served and David is talking to Max. “Mr. Lord, my grandfather believes the men who create a company should control its destiny.” You look down at the plate and then lean over towards Max.

“Where’s the salad?” You ask quietly.

Max turns his attention to you. “The salad comes at the end of the meal.”

You stare at the forks, trying to count the tines and the elder Morse leans in, “I never know which one to use.” He chuckles and you follow his lead when he picks up the toast with pâté. The next course is snails. “Escargot.” Max explains, “they’re a delicacy. Try them.”

You look at the tongs and frown, trying to figure it out until one flings across the room and the waiter catches it. “Slippery little suckers.” You joke “Happens all the time.” He tells you and you fluster.

The sorbet is next and the conversation heats up between the men. Max reveals that his father died recently and you bite your lip. You watch Max as he clenches his jaw, clearly used to getting what he wants but so is the younger Morse who stands up and leaves, followed by his grandfather. You look at Max who huffs, deciding to pour another glass of wine. Back in the hotel, you decide to admire the view and sit on the balcony. Max joins you a few moments later, rid of his jacket and tie. “I’m sorry about your dad.” You murmur and he sighs, rubbing his jaw.

“He died last month.” He tells you and you want to comfort him, to make him feel better. Something you haven’t felt in so long. “Haven’t talked to him in fourteen years.” He reveals, staring down at the whiskey in his hand. He hadn’t even attended the funeral, never wished to. He had meant what he said when he said that he never wanted to see the old bastard again.

You give him a small ‘oh’ and are silent for a minute. “We could just veg out.” You suggest and Max frowns as he looks up at you in confusion. “Sit around and watch tv.” You explain with a grin. “Lay like broccoli.” He snorts and shakes his head before drowning the rest of his drink. “I’ll be back.” He tells you, setting the glass down and walking to the penthouse door quietly.

You huff as he leaves and decide to veg out by yourself. You rub your eyes as the movie ends, Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant kissing and you glance over at the clock. It’s three in the morning. “Where the hell is he?” You mumble, standing up and wrapping the robe around yourself. You ask the bellboy where Max is and he escorts you through the lobby to the event room. The sounds of the piano echo through the room and a few men are listening him. You’re in awe. You walk over to him when he finishes, clapping softly. “I didn’t know you could play.” You say like you haven’t only known him for two days. “I don’t play in front of people I know.” He explains and you rub his shoulders.

“You should.” You murmur, leaning down to kiss his neck. His hand finds yours on his shoulder and he guides you around so you’re between his legs.

“Can you give us the room, fellas?” He asks and the men soon vacate the room. Your eyes meet his as his hands grab your waist, caressing it and your breath hitches at the way he looks at you.

There’s something about you. It’s thrilling and comforting all at the same time. He pushes you up, your ass hitting the keys and he doesn’t smirk like he normally would. Fingers reaching for your robe, and he slowly unties it to pull past and see what you are wearing under it. “Eyes on me.”

You fix your eyes on him, unable to disobey, and he runs his hands up your body, admiring the black silk you're wearing. He grabs your ass and lifts you up onto the top of the piano, your feet hitting the keys as he stands to settle between your legs. His lips seem to gravitate towards yours and you turn your head at the last second, knowing it's not a good idea to kiss him. You're already too involved. His lips find your neck and you whimper when he pushes the nightie up your body, exposing your panties. His nose runs along your stomach, pressing kisses on the skin, teasing you. "Max." You plead softly, needing to feel more.

“I’m going to eat you out.” He decides. “Right here in the lounge of the hotel.” He’s hard and throbbing, but right now, he wants to take you apart. Leaning down even more, his nose presses to your panties and he inhales your intoxicating scent. “When was the last time a man feasted on your cunt?”

You gasp at the way he presses his nose just against your clit. “A long time ago. Clients - they don’t - they don’t do that.” You admit, most just want to get straight to fucking you. It’s not romantic or drawn out. Usually they cum in less than a dozen thrusts and you take your money and go. He hooks his fingers in your panties, “I want to taste you.” He says and you whimper when he drags your underwear down and your ass hits the lacquer of the piano.

His ex-wife had bemoaned his oral skills, claiming that all the talent in his tongue was left in the board room. Not matter how many hours he had spent between her thighs, it was never right and he had eventually given up. However, he wants to see what you think of him. More than that, he just wants to give. Give you things that you haven’t had lately. Forget everything but the way you taste and sound. His fingers pull apart your lips and he groans at the sight of your clit before he leans forward and laps at it with his tongue.

God his tongue feels so good. You moan when he flicks your clit and his mouth covers you. His tongue sliding down to push inside of you and you pant, “Max.” You reach down to tangle your fingers in his air, intoxicated by him already.

He doesn’t think about what he is doing, just focusing on the way that you sound. Groaning into your flesh and squeezing your hips as he drags you closer to taste you more deeply.

It’s scandalous. Him eating you out on a piano in the middle of a hotel lounge and you moan as he takes his time. Most of the time, men only do this to make sure you’re wet enough but Max seems so eager to make you cum. You moan his name as he laps at you and you don’t know how he’s so good at this and unable to get a girlfriend. You moan again, lifting your leg onto his calf as he sucks on your clit. “Oh fuck.” You cry, getting so close already.

Your skin is so soft, fingers digging into the supple areas that he can grab. Dark eyes on your blissed out face as he drags you closer to the edge. Pulling away from your clit to run a figure eight around it with his tongue, he rasps out “cum” before he sucks it back into his mouth to pull on harshly.

You can’t deny him. Fuck, you can’t deny him anything. You moan his name as you rock your hips up towards his mouth and you fall apart on his tongue. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You cry out as you cum on his face.

It’s the best dessert that he’s ever had, tangy and thick when he moves his tongue down to lap up the fruits of his labor while you shake apart for him.

You pant as you look up at the ornate ceiling of the hotel. The intricate decor almost blurs as you stare at it and you run through fingers through his hair until you’re pushing him away when it becomes too much. “Fuck baby. So good.” You murmur, “there’s a condom in my robe if you want to.” You say, unsure if he wants to fuck you here or go upstairs.

He too worked up to take you upstairs. Digging into your robe to grab the condom, he surges to his feet and fumbles with his belt as he rushes to sink into you.

You sit up on your elbows as he rolls the condom down his length and you moan when he notches himself at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. “Fuck Max.” You moan, reaching for his hand when he pushes deep inside of you.

He moans your name quietly, his thighs bumping the keeps as he tries to get as deep as he possibly can. “Warp your legs around me,” he begs quietly. “Hold onto me.”

You nod, wrapping your legs around him and you shift to sit up, gripping his shoulders the new angle makes you gasp as he starts to move inside of you. “Oh God.” You pant as he curves just right inside of you like this. “Fuck me.” You demand, leaning down to kiss along his neck. Biting down on his ear lobe, “feel so big inside of me.” You murmur, meaning every word.

Max groans, aware that you probably tell every guy you’re with that, but he pretends you mean it. You’re kissing along his next and squeezing his cock with your tight little cunt, making him forget everything as he rocks into you. “Fuck.” He hisses softly. “So beautiful, so tight around me.” He praises.

You rock your hips up to meet his, your hands caressing his back as he pushes deep inside of you. “Fuck baby. Max. Feel so good.” You moan as your nails lightly scratch his back. “Want you to feel good after you made me feel so good.”

Max shudders, aware that anyone could walk in and watch him fucking you, but he doesn’t care. Or maybe it’s that he wishes they would. That they would see that he’s pleasuring such a beautiful woman. “You do, you do.” He pants out. “Feels so good.”

You keep him close, your legs wrapped around him as he pushes deep, slow but precise. “Max. God, that - that’s it.” You pant and he reaches down to rub your clit. You’re so close. Still worked up from your previous orgasm, it doesn’t take you long until you’re clamping down on his cock. Your cry echoing in the empty function room covered in gilded gold.

“That’s it, cum for me.” He hisses, loving the unrestrained way you cry out for him. Letting anyone nearby know that he is making you feel good. His throats turn sloppy, pace faltering as he starts to chase his own release. Groaning your name as he slaps his hips against your once more and presses deep, his body shaking as he empties himself into the condom.

You watch him as he cums, loving how tight his body gets. Jaw clenched and eyes fluttering shut as you get a glimpse into the one and only moment Maxwell Lord relaxes. “That’s it baby. So good.” You murmur, caressing his upper back as you continue to watch him.

When he pulls out of you carefully, his hands are pulling your robe closed so no one could see you even before he's slipping off the condom. Tying it in a knot and tossing it in a trashcan near the piano, he offers you his hand to help you down. "We should sleep." He murmurs, seeing how tired you are after your orgasm.

You nod, letting Max help you off of the piano with shaking legs and you’re soon back in the room. The same as the night before, you get ready for bed and he goes off to review a report, leaving you to fall asleep alone.

****

The next morning, you come out of the room to find Max reading the newspaper. “Good morning.” You greet him, leaning in to kiss his cheek and he hums a good morning to you. “What’s the plan for today?” You ask and he smiles at you, “shopping.” You groan, “no. I- I went yesterday and they were so mean to me.”

Max frowns and folds over his paper, “mean to you? What do you mean?” He demands, his frown deepening even more as you explain and he shakes his head. “Get dressed.” He decides. “I’m coming with you.”

****

He doesn’t let you pull your hand out of his. Dressed in your outfit you wore the night you met, your heels from last night and one of his dress shirts, you look sexy. The limo driver drops you off on Rodeo drive, he chooses one of the most expensive looking boutiques to walk into.

“Hello, how may we-“ the worker starts her spiel but Max just cuts her off.

“We are looking to spend an obscene amount of money.” He declares. “Very obscene. So we are looking to be sucked up to.” He smirks as he looks over at you and winks as he pulls out his Amex card and hands it to you. The one that has no limit.

“How obscene sir?” The manager asks greedily and Max smirks, “very. Make sure she gets what she wants.” He gestures over to you as you stand admiring the dresses shown to you. Max comes over and takes your hand, “I have a meeting to go to but I’ll see you later.” He says, kissing the back of your hand. You want to pout but instead you nod, letting him go. When he leaves, you try on more clothes than you’ve ever owned, pick out lingerie and nighties. You stare at the man holding a pair of shoes and you see his tie. “Max would love that.” You point to it and the a manager snaps his fingers, “your tie.” He demands and the man takes his tie off to hand it to you.

You leave the store dressed to the nines and you carry the bags as you make your way back to the store you went in the day before. “Hi, you refused to help me yesterday.” You say to the woman and she frowns until her eyes widen. “You work on commission?” You ask her and she nods. You hold up your bags, “big mistake. Big. Huge.” You tell them before you leave with a massive smirk on your face, unable to believe how on top of the world you feel as you make your way back to the hotel.

Max opens the door to the suite, briefcase in hand and expecting to find you opening dozens of boxes and bags from your shopping excursion. Instead, he finds you sitting at the table, wearing nothing but a tie and your heels. He smirks, setting down the case on the table and stepping closer to you. “That’s a nice tie.” He muses, admiring the way it sits between your tits.

You smirk at him as he walks in and freezes and you slowly uncross your legs, spreading them so he can see your cunt. “I got it for you today.” You coo, reaching down to squeeze your breast. “Thought it would look good on you.” You wink at him and slide your hand lower until you’re rubbing your clit, showing him how wet you are for him.

“Looks…expensive.” He banters and you shoot him a smirk.

“All yours for the low, low price of three thousand dollars.” You tease, reminding him and yourself of how much money he is paying you to stay with him. “Yes, a very expensive tie.” He strides forward and wraps his hand around the silk pinstripe tie, the back of his knuckles dragging over your breasts. “I think it might be my new favorite.”

You smirk up at him, “yeah? Maybe you can wear it tomorrow…after I’m done with it. Might have to take it off though if you want to fuck me hard…maybe fuck my ass?” You ask, biting your lip as you think of the lube you got from the pharmacy on the way back from shopping.

His eyes widen and he glances down at your beautiful cunt and then back at your face. “You want that?” He asks hoarsely, cock twitching. “I’ve never- no one has, um, wanted that. So I don’t know what you would want to get ready for me.”

You giggle at the way he seems flustered. Unused to seeing him like this when you know he’s so stoic in his business. You bite your lip as you lower your leg from the table and stand up to walk over to him. “I have lube. I have thought about this all afternoon so I have, uh, fingered myself open for you. Just need your gorgeous fingers to make sure I’m ready for you and then I have lube so you can fuck me. Want you to experience it with me.” You murmur, caressing his cheek as you stand naked before him bar the tie.

“On your back or your stomach?” He asks, cupping your tits immediately and squeezing them. “What is comfortable for you? What do you like? How did you imagine me fucking you?”

“On my back. I want to watch you.” You tell him as he pinches your nipples and you gasp out his name. “I want to watch your first time doing this.” You say and you pull a condom out from the flap at the back of the tie. “You ready, Mr. Lord?” You smirk, knowing you’ll be wet from him fucking you like this.

“Bedroom.” Max growls out, snatching the condom out of your hand and resisting the urge to grab the tie to drag you closer for a kiss. Reminding himself that he cannot kiss you, it was your one stipulation. He’s eager to experience this, to show you that he can learn new things. “Get your lube.”

You grab the bottle of lube from the side and you rush into the bedroom, loving how animalistic he is. You fling the tie off and throw it down on the chair as you lay down on the bed. “Get undressed Max.” You order, wanting to watch him strip out of his suit.

Max obeys your order, watching you as he starts to strip his suit off. Your greedy eyes make him feel desirable, wanted. It seems like you truly want him. He unpins his cuffs and slowly starts to unbutton his shirt. "Touch yourself." He orders. "Show me how you prepared yourself for me today."

You spread your legs, laying down to lift your ass into the air a little and you slide your fingers through your wet folds, gathering your arousal before you slide them lower to gently push into your ass, showing him how you’ve opened yourself up as you begin to work your fingers in and out.

“Oh fuck.” Max groans, eyes fixed on your ass as you start to finger yourself. “I should have been here for this.” He shrugs out of his shirt and works his belt open. “I would have jerked off.”

You moan at the thought, “you were busy working. Didn’t want to disturb you. You told me to never answer the phone and I assume that means making calls too.” You tell him and he pushes his pants down along with his briefs to expose his hard cock. “God, baby. Your cock is so gorgeous.” You murmur, “want your fingers first. Work me open a little more.” You say and reach for the lube you threw down on the bed.

“I can work you open more.” He promises, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it as he kneels on the bed. “Don’t want to hurt you. Want you to feel good. Can you cum from having your ass fucked, or is my pretty girl gonna rub her little clit while I fuck you?”

You whimper, “need to rub my clit to cum.” You tell him and he nods, shifting to kneel on the bed and he pulls your fingers from inside of you. “Lube baby.” He orders and you grab the bottle, squirting some onto his fingers so he can replace your digits with his own. When he does, your head tilts back at the stretch and you moan his name.

You’re gorgeous as he stretches you out on his fingers. Pushing deep inside a hole he had never expected to be in. Scissoring his fingers to work you more as you start to grind down on him, “you like that? Does it feel good?” He asks after long minutes working his fingers inside you.

“Feels good baby. Want you to feel good.” You murmur as he scissors his fingers to open you up and you watch him as he pumps his cock with his other hand. “Fuck me. Need you inside of me.” You demand as you reach for the lube.

Max pulls his finger out of you and rips open the condom with his teeth. Rolling it down his length and groaning when you smear the condom with the lube generously. “I hope you’re ready.” He hisses, “position me.”

You pant as you reach down to position him, heart pounding as he starts to push in and you watch his face as he pushes in. You’re intoxicated by the look of awe on his face as he pushes into you, slow but precise. “Feel good?” You ask him, wanting to enjoy this.

“Tighter.” He groans, unable to believe how your ring of muscles is squeezing his cock. He checks with you, “how- is it good? Slower? Faster? How do you enjoy it?” He doesn’t just want this to be for him. You are supposed to enjoy yourself too, at least that’s what he wants.

You close your eyes for a second before you open them. “Slow at first then you can speed up. I will enjoy it because it’s you, baby.” You promise, reaching up to caress his forearms as he starts to slowly rock into you. You want to see him wrecked from enjoying this new experience. You’re happy to give it to him.

“You’re so fucking incredible.” He groans as he starts to pull back. Keeping your words in mind as he keeps the pace slow. Enjoying the way your body quivers and tenses under him. “Rub your clit for me.” He orders, remembering how you said you needed to in order to cum. “Want you to cum too.”

You nod, reaching down to rub your clit as he starts to move inside of you. “That’s it baby. Move a little faster. Need you to fuck me like you want. That’s what I want.” You tell him with a moan, your hands caressing his.

He groans, picking up the pace slightly as he watches you rub your clit. It’s so interesting watching himself fuck your ass. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing and yet you are moaning and clearly enjoying yourself.

You moan as he rocks into you, pushing deeper and stretching you out. “So good baby. Oh God, so good.” You whimper as you rub your clit a little faster. “Keep going, Max. I’m gonna cum from it.” You tell him breathlessly.

He twitches inside you, gasping when you clamp down on him again and his next thrust isn’t as patient as the others. It’s more feral, unrestrained but then the next thrust is more like the others.

It’s your turn to gasp as he becomes more confident and pushes deep into you on the next thrust. “Yessss Max.” You moan, frantically rubbing your clit as he pushes into you again and again. You’re so close. The look on his face has your heart pounding and a couple of thrusts later, you’re clamping down around nothing as you squeeze him inside of your ass.

“Fuck, fuck!” Max hisses, unable to control himself as you start to cum. His thrusts turn frantic and he pushes deep as you squeeze him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He cries out, feeling the pull in his groin and seconds later, he’s filling the condom with a moan of your name.

You watch him in rapture, loving the look on his face as he cums, filling the condom up. “God, that’s it baby.” You caress his arms as he leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, not wanting to break your rule despite really wanting to kiss him. “Good?” You ask him, wanting to know if he enjoyed it as much as you did.

Max nuzzles your cheek and kisses it softly. “Amazing.” He whispers softly, wishing he could kiss you. “Thank you.” He grips the base of the condom and pulls out of you gently. “Do you want to take a bath?”

You nod, needing to relax your muscles. It doesn’t take long for you to be wrapped around him in a bath, you grab the sponge to wash his chest and you kiss his neck. “What’s on for tomorrow?” You ask and he hums, caressing your arms, “polo match.” You nod, “I’ve never been to polo. What do I wear?” You ask,

“A nice day dress.” He hums. “Something flowy, a big hat to keep the sun off you.” You nod eagerly. “I have just the thing. It’s a cute dress with white polka dots, but it doesn’t have sleeves, is that okay?”

Max shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

****

The next day, you and Max arrive at the polo grounds and you are immediately nervous and feel out of the place. Max seems to be in his element mixing with the upper crust and he leaves you with two sisters, going off to see his attorney. “So you’re the flavor of the week.” They giggle and you smirk, “oh no. I’m just using him for sex.” You stride off to find Max.

“Who is this girl? Where did she come from?” Max’s attorney is a nervous sort, who sees corporate spies behind every door.

“Phil, don’t worry about it, she’s not a spy.” He assures him, but the man is about to stroke out because you’ve found David Morse, or the man found you, and you’re petting his polo pony.

“See?” He hisses, grabbing Max’s arm.

“Tell me she’s not a spy!” Max sighs, knowing he can trust his lawyer of nearly fifteen years. “She’s a hooker.” He tells the man in confidence. Phil looks skeptical, but Max nods. “Picked her up on the Boulevard the night that you loaned me the car.” He huffs. “Think Morse has spies turning tricks? There’s nothing to worry about.” Your laughter catches his attention and he looks over to find you laughing with the horse nipping at your palm and he smiles, thinking you look beautiful. “Excuse me.”

Max comes over to you as you say goodbye to David and he wraps his arm around you and you watch as the upper crust go out to pat down the holes on the field as is tradition according to the announcer. You take the glass of champagne Max offers you until he tells you he wants to talk to someone and leaves you on your own. His attorney, Phil, approaches you, his wife off talking to the others, and Phil chuckles. “You know, you dress up nice.” He says and you turn to look at him, “thanks.” He reaches up to gently run his finger down your arm, “yeah. You clean up nice compared to what you must wear on the boulevard.” Your jaw drops slightly and you turn to look at him. “Maybe I’ll have to come and find you when Max is done with you.” He winks and walks off and you clench your jaw, biting back a retort. When Max comes over, you’re silent and you remain silent until you get back to the hotel.

****

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Max asks when you storm into the room, straight to the bedroom where you begin to gather the clothes he bought for you.

“You. Telling Phil that I’m a prostitute. He - he said you told him and I- I just thought you wouldn’t be telling everyone there what I am to you.” You spit, zipping up the garment bag.

Max huffs, pissed off at Phil for telling you. “He thought you were a corporate spy.” He snorts, still amused by that. “Was talking about running a background check on you. And you talking to David Morse didn’t help.” He hates that a thread of jealousy had ripped through him when you had been talking to the other handsome guy, annoyed that you might be more interested in him than Max.

“I just - I thought - I thought we would discuss what you told people before you announced to everyone that I’m a hooker.” You huff as you grab your things.

“You are a hooker.” Max says and your heart breaks. You thought you were- well, never mind.

You swallow the lump in your throat and you say, “I want to leave. Now.” You grab your purse and Max nods, grabbing his pocket book to throw the money down on the bed. You swallow harshly as he walks out the room and you don’t want his money. You storm through the hotel suite to the doors and you walk away from him, waiting for the elevator.

Max looks back into the bedroom and sees that you’ve left all the money on the bed, his heart aching at the thought of you leaving. His shoes are still off but he walks out of the suite and down the hall to where you are waiting for the elevator car. Pausing for a second when you won’t look at him. “I’m sorry that I told Phil.” He apologizes. “Will you please come back inside?”

You stare at the golden doors, clothes folded over your arms. They open a few seconds later with the bellboy standing there. “Please?” Max asks, his dark eyes wide as he stares at you pleadingly. You bite your lips as you look at him until you sigh, nodding. “Sorry.” You tell the bellboy and you step back towards Max.

He’s relieved that you are willing to come back to the room and he takes your bag and the clothes out of your arms to carry them for you. Biting his lip as he brings them back into the bedroom and the money is still on the bed.

You set the clothes down and your purse, crossing your arms as you wait for him to say something. “You didn’t take the money.” He says and you shake your head, “I don’t want it.” You confess, “it’s - it’s changed. This situation has changed.” You confess and he nods. You step closer to him, “are you…you think I should stay?”

“I do.” He confesses, reaching out and touching your shoulder. “I didn’t like it when you were talking to Morse.” He continues on. You look at him strangely, “we were just talking.” You remind him. “I didn’t like it.” He repeats, feeling almost possessive of you. Sure, he has purchased your time and use of your body, but he also wants your interest, your thoughts.

You turn towards him, cupping his cheek as he admits his jealousy. “Baby. I’m yours. Until I leave.” You tease, leaning in to kiss his chin. “But that won’t be tonight. I want…I want you to show me that you’re sorry.” You smirk, pushing down on his shoulders, “make me cum.” You smile at him as you work on the zipper of your dress, wanting to feel his tongue again.

****

In bed, you turn to face Max and he softly asks you how you ended up in L.A. You sigh, “I followed a boyfriend over here. He - he was a bum. I have always dated bums. One cheated on me. One went to jail. This one…I followed to L.A and he dumped me for some other girl. I refused to go home with my tail between my legs so I got whatever job I could. Even valeted cars for a bit. Then I couldn’t pay my rent. I met Kit and she told me how much she made…how easy it is. I- I decided to do it. No one plans on becoming a hooker but - I cried. The first time. I cried the entire time.” You confess, shifting a little closer to him.

Max frowns, his heart hurting for you, how you must have felt. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly, feeling compelled to tell you his story as well. “My ex constantly told me I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t make enough money or I wasn’t a good enough lover.” He snorts. “She paraded lovers through our home and tried to convince me it was my fault.”

“She was an idiot.” You scoff, reaching out to caress his chest. “You’re handsome. You’re funny. You’re smart as hell. You’re rich as fuck. Why would she say you’re not good enough? Pfft. She’s a goddamn fool.” You scoff and Max snorts, pulling you close but not saying a word. His heart thumping in his chest as he holds you close.

****

“What are we doing today?” You ask Max as you walk into the living room in your robe. He looks up from his reports. “Tonight, we are going to the opera.” Your eyes widen, “the opera?” He nods and you are nervous at the thought. “How am I going to understand anything they sing?” You ask and he smiles at you, “it transcends words. Languages.” You nod, “guess I better get another dress.”

****

Max adjusts his cufflinks as you exit the bedroom, wearing the red dress that you can barely breathe in but it’s worth it. It’s gorgeous and you’ve never felt so beautiful. “You like it?” You ask Max, wanting his approval.

“Hmmm.” Max shakes his head slightly. “It’s missing something.” He decides and pulls out a large jewelry box out of his jacket. He had stopped and picked it up on the way back to the hotel. “Now…” he opens it and snaps it back shut before you can see inside. “This is on loan. You can’t keep this.”

Your eyes widen and you giggle when he snaps the lid shut on your hand and you gasp when you see the necklace again. “Max…oh my God.” You are in awe of the jewelry and you look at it.

“Let’s get it on you.” Max says and you let him escort you over to the mirror. He fastens it on your neck and you touch it, “how much is this?” You ask and your eyes widen when he says a quarter of a million. “A quarter mil?” You gasp and he nods, “on loan.” You giggle and reach for your clutch as Max escorts you through the hotel where everyone looks at you in awe. “Everyone’s staring.” You murmur.

“Of course they are.” Max huffs, proud to have you on his arm. You are gorgeous and look fucking amazing in your dress. “Good evening, Mr. Lord.” The limo driver nods as he opens the door once you are out of the hotel. “The pilot is ready to take off as soon as you arrive.” Max smiles as he helps you into the car. “Good.”

Your eyes widen once more and you lean into his side, unable to say much as you are driven to a small airport and right up to a private jet. “Max?” You gasp as he escorts you up the steps and onto the plane. You didn’t know that this kind of life was real but it is and you’re in awe of the luxury Max lives in.

“I didn’t tell you?” He asks playfully as he guides you towards a seat and he nods when the stewardess asks if you would like champagne before take off. “The opera is in San Francisco.”

You grin, shaking your head in disbelief. “Is this my life?” You ask Max and he chuckles, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

****

When you arrive at the opera house, Max ushers you to your seats which happens to be a balcony. “You said you don’t like heights?” You ask him as you sit down in your seats. “I don’t.” Max says and you lean in closer, “then why did you get these?”

He chuckles, “because they are the best.” You playfully roll your eyes and he winks at you just as the opera is about to start. You grab the binoculars and try to figure them out. You flip them until Max chuckles and puts them the right way. “Thank you.” You smile and the music begins.

Max looks over at you during the first act and you are completely enthralled. Eyes fixed on the stage and you are twisting your program in your lap as you watch. He finds it almost more entertaining than the opera. Reaching for your hand, he picks it up and kisses the back of it as tears slip down your cheeks from the beauty of the story is conveyed through the emotion of the performance.

The opera ends and you swallow back the lump in your throat as you wipe your tears away. It was beautiful and moving and you’ve never been to anything like it. “Max.” You sigh when you get back to the hotel after a quiet flight back to L.A. “God, Max. That was incredible.” You sigh as you step out of your heels. “Thank you for taking me.” You tell him, reaching up to remove his tie.

Max smiles at you. “Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks, even though he knows you did. Happy that he could give you this experience, he reaches out and touches the loaned necklace. “Remove your dress, but leave the necklace on.”

You smirk, shaking your head at him. “Let’s play chess.” You say, wanting to keep him on his feet even if he’s paying for you. You grab a Diet Coke from the fridge and move over to the table where the chess board is c waiting for Max. “Come play with me.” You demand as Max watches you. He nods and comes over after removing his jacket and tie. “Take tomorrow off.” You say after he’s won a game and you’re on the next.

“What would I do?” He asks with a frown, knowing that he’s come to L.A. to work. To make this deal happen and make a lot of money.

You reach out to rub your foot against his ankle. “Nothing. Anything. Relax.” You tell him, knowing he takes no time to himself. “You could explore the city. Have lunch. Have sex.” You wink, wanting him to have a day to himself when all he does is work.

He purses his lips, about to tease you and remind you that you turned him down, but the idea is intriguing. “We’ll go on a picnic.” He decides. “I’ve not been on one in so long.”

“Let’s do that then.” You grin and stand up, slowly moving around the table to straddle him in his seat. “And for now…I want to show you how much I enjoyed the opera.” You lean in to kiss his neck and his hands find your waist, sliding up to unzip your dress. “Fuck me with this necklace on before we return it.” You murmur into his neck as you bite his ear.

****

You adjust your skirt as Max finishes getting dressed and after he’s ready, you take his hand as he guides you out of the hotel and into Beverly Hills where there’s nothing planned for once in Max’s life.

The two of you manage to find a deli who is willing to put together a picnic basket for the handsome sum Max slipped him. The charming wicker basket hangs from his hand and he feels lighter than he has in a long time. When you reach the park, you take off the stylish flats you are wearing and grin at him. “Take off your shoes.”

He snorts and looks down at the Italian loafers. “What?”

“Take off your shoes.” You tell him and he stares at you for a second before he follows your order. You lay out the blanket and you sit down as you grab the basket to open it. You eat and watch the people pass by until Max pulls a book out of his pocket. “Shakespeare?” You ask in curiosity.

“Of course.” Max huffs playfully, as if everyone should carry Shakespeare in their pocket. “What else would we read while drinking wine and laying in the grass?”

You giggle and listen to Max as he reads a sonnet, your head on his chest. Later that day, you go to a small diner and sit and eat at the bar, laughing at Max as he tells a story from his high school days. When you return to the hotel, you tell Max you’re going to go get ready for bed. You change into one of the silky nightgowns that Max bought you and you adjust your hair as you make your way back out into the bedroom. Max is leaning against the headboard, his eyes shut as he finally sleeps. You shift quietly to sit next to him, smiling. “He sleeps.” You murmur, leaning in to gently kiss his cheek, turning your head slightly to kiss his lips. You break your rule to give him a piece of yourself without him knowing you’ve broken your rule.

The next morning, Max apologizes to you about having to leave so early, rushing out of the hotel suite before you can even have breakfast together. He has a meeting with Mr. Morse that the rest of the board doesn’t know about, not even his lawyer. Wanting to talk to the old man one on one. Or with David too, but without the sharks to smell blood in the water.

You gather your things, packing your bag, and you wait for Max to return from his meeting. The doorbell rings and you answer the door, eyes widening when you see Max’s lawyer, Phil. “How are you?” You ask him and he storms in. You shut the door behind you and you watch him as he practically pulls his hair out, walking over to the bar to pour himself a scotch.

“How am I? I wish I knew. I used to know. Just like I used to know how Max was. But now, I think he’s with you.” He tells you, taking a sip of the scotch and staring at you. Max had completely undone all of his hard work, ruined his chances for making a boatload off this deal and it’s all because of you.

“Max will be back soon. Any minute he’ll be home.” You tell Phil who scoffs, “home? This isn’t your home. This is a hotel room and you aren’t the little woman. You’re a hooker.” Your stomach twists and you swallow down the urge to slap him and decide to sit down on the sofa instead. Phil follows, sitting down beside you, and he sets down the empty glass on the coffee table until he places his hand on your bare thigh.

“So how much is it? You must be good to have Max all tangled up. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that pussy.” Phil says as he slides his hand up higher and you gasp, grabbing his wrist to push him away. He growls and pounces on you, pushing you back into the sofa and you scream, trying to get out from under him. Phil reacts, slapping you across the face to get you to shut up but you scream out again, putting up a fight.

Max had been in a good mood as he let himself into the suite. Ready to tell you about the deal he had struck with Morse. He wasn’t going to dismantle the company anymore, he was going to invest and make sure that Morse enterprises build the ships they wanted to. When he sees Phil on top of you and you struggling, something snaps in him and he rushes over to drag the man off of you, spinning him around and punching him in the mouth. “What is the matter with you!”

“She’s a whore, man.” Phil growls and Max shakes his head, about to punch the man again. Max throws his briefcase down the hall "this is bullshit. Bullshit. I gave you ten years of my life!" Phil cries, throwing up his hands.

Max shakes his head again. “This is such bullshit. It's the kill you love not me. Get out of here. Get out!" He demands and Phil stumbles down the hall as Max slams the door. You sit on the sofa, nursing your sore cheek and Max immediately rushes to get you some ice. You hiss when he presses it to your cheek, covered in the napkin, and he looks ready to kill. “Are you okay?” He asks, despite knowing you’re not.

“I’m fine. I- I gotta go.” You choke out, knowing this moment just solidified your leaving.

“Don’t go.” Max murmurs, “come with me to New York.”

You shake your head, “I can’t go with you. It’s - it’s always going to be someone. Some guy who finds out what I am and wants something from me. You can’t beat everyone up.” You reach out to caress his cheek, wanting to cry but you remain strong.

“Stay here then. Stay and I’ll get you a condo. You can have a card to spend whatever you want if you see me when I come back here.”

You shake your head again. “That’s a mighty fine offer for a girl like me but I can’t take it. I want…I want more than just the castle. I want the prince. I want the fairytale.” You confess, eyes burning into his.

He nods and stands up, helping you up and you gather your things again. “Stay with me. One night. One more night. Not because I’m paying you but because I want you to.” He pleads softly and you sigh, “I can’t.”

You watch him as he takes the money and places it in your hand along with his card, stamped with gold. You lean in to kiss his cheek, “you have a lot of special gifts.”

Max chuckles, “my special gift is complicated relationships.” You smirk, reaching for his hand before you make your way to the elevator. Max watches you go and somehow you make it down to the lobby. You find Barney and tell him you’ve come to say goodbye. “Thank you for everything.” You murmur and lean in to kiss his cheek.

He smiles at you, “you’re welcome back whenever you wish, goodbye.” He reaches for your hand to kiss the back of it. “The hotel limo will take you wherever you wish to go.” He says and you nod, “stay cool.” You wink and make your way out of the hotel, knowing you’ll never return.

Max walks through the suite, touching the surfaces that you had touched. The table where he had you for breakfast instead of food. The bathtub you had laid in together. He already misses you. He can’t let you go. Picking up the telephone, he’s connected to the front desk. “Yes, Mr. Lord?” The voice on the other end says.

He bites his lip. “I need the limo and a dozen roses.” He orders.

You arrive back at your apartment and see Kit, telling her your decision to go to San Francisco to start again, to finish school. You pack your things, including your new clothes, and hand Kit some cash before she leaves because she says she can’t handle goodbyes. Your bus leaves soon and you’re about to go when you hear a horn honking. You go out on your rickety fire escape and you see the hotel limo approach, Max hanging out of the roof window and your eyes widen. Opera plays from the car and Max jumps out when the car stops. You lean over as he contemplates what to do when he looks up at the high fire escape and you giggle when he puts the flower stems into his mouth so he can climb up the stairs. “Don’t-” You don’t get to protest as he rushes up and you decide to meet him halfway, chest heaving as you face him. He comes to you, handing you the flowers. “Max?” You gasp and he stands before you.

“I can’t let you go. I - it’s more than this week. You- you’ve crawled under my skin. Into my heart. I don’t want to let you go, I want you to be mine.” He declares and your heart clenches.

“I love you Max.” You murmur, stepping closer to him and you cup his cheeks.

“So what happens after a prince climbs up the tower to rescue the princess?” He asks you breathlessly.

“She rescues him right back.” You grin and lean in to press your lips to his. He groans and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close and you melt into the kiss. You never imagined you’d be meeting the man you love by walking the boulevard. You thought you’d be down on your luck forever until a handsome man pulled up in a Lotus Esprit to change your life forever.

#pedro pascal #max lord #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord x f!reader #max lord smut #max lord imagine #max lord fanfiction #max lord fanfic #max lord ww1984

163 notes · View notes