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inknopewetrust · 1 month ago

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Flaming Hearts Fan Club

summary: you, a shit-out of luck reporter, are stuck following around the world’s most self-centered superhero for his fan club’s magazine.

Johnny Storm sees a challenge… and you just can’t help but resist him, right? You’d never kiss and tell.

[Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader] [WC: 12.3k]

Warnings: SMUT! MDNI! 18+ hesitant lovers, love at first sight, both have preconceived notions of one another, fluff, flirtation, Johnny is more than a flirt people! explicit language, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), a lil bit of edging.

Quick Links: Masterlist

“No.”

“Come on,” she begged. Her puppy eyes were glinting in the office lights. “Please. Pretty please? I’ll even say it with a cherry on top.”

“No!” You laughed at her absurdity. You interviewing Johnny Storm on behalf of that magazine? Non-heroic immolation sounded more grand at that very moment.

“What if I tell you I’ll throw in a bonus?”

Swiveling around in your chair, you looked at Lucy’s comically large black cat-eyed glasses and blinked once.

“Nothing on planet Earth could get me to step foot in the Baxter building. The goddamn sky could be falling and I would rather be crushed by the weight of gravity than spend ten minutes in heatwave’s presence.”

“He’s called The Human Torch.”

You nodded unenthused. “Wonderful.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. She laid herself dramatically atop your desk’s perched edge. Her frown deepened; eyes wallowing in self-destruction at your refusal.

“What about a big bonus?”

“Fifty dollars isn’t a “big bonus” no matter how many times you emphasize that it will cover my groceries for a month. I’d rather starve.”

“Good grief,” she wailed. “You’re a lost cause!”

“I’m the lost cause?” You feigned offense. “You are all in love with the same womanizing astronaut who spontaneously bursts into flames and cries hero when he destroys ten apartment buildings with a shallow “sorry!” You are lost causes.”

“Maybe you actually have a giant crush on him and you just don’t want all us girls to know about it.”

“Mhm,” you feigned and turned back to your work.

Materials laid askew before you in the most unorganized manner. Articles half edited remained inked in red while photographs of worthy news were plagued by post-it notes with reminders of what, where, and why.

Lucy walked around your desk. Her fingers gliding along the top of it before stretching out in observation.

“I think you actually like him,” she said matter-of-factly. “Is it the eyes? They’re so blue that they just swallow you whole like the sea. Or! Or is it that he’s a funny guy? I love men who can make me laugh.”

“Yeah, well,” you scoffed, “you laugh at everyone’s jokes so it’s not that impressive.”

“But he’s a hero! And a rich one—you see the tower? And the car… don’t even get me started on the car.”

You hummed. “Every girl just wants to be picked up in an invisible floating object.”

She narrowed her eyes accusingly. “Do you just hate fun or what?”

Shrugging, you picked up a photo and held it to the light. Lucy took you in as you distracted yourself from answering her accusatory question.

By all standards of the word, Lucy thought you fit the definition of “beautiful woman” but your beauty stumped her with your lack of social life. You had no husband, no boyfriend, no guys circling on the side. You lived alone in a decent apartment where your late nights in the office were more important than getting home at a reasonable hour to someone willing to treat you right.

You were good at your job—great, even. But you were lonely and even a single star in the farthest galaxy could see it.

Lucy wasn’t implying that Johnny Storm was going to sweep you off your feet or ride in on a golden carriage to save you from a desolate nature. You weren’t going to fall in love with him after one interview. She took your vocal objection to as a win, however. Getting you out of your comfort zone, exploring something new, and hell, he just happened to be the attractive guy at the subject of your piece.

It was different, new, and it was perfect for you.

“$300.”

You kept your eyes glued to the photograph.

“$350,” Lucy propositioned instead.

“$400?”

Your face curled up in polite decline. “I mean, I’d go through so much trouble. Not to mention the traffic and then the extra fare for the train ride home… I’m losing free time and precious seconds I could be completing other articles for Friday’s edition…”

“$500 extra, final offer.”

Dropping the photograph, you folded your arms in front of you seriously.

“There are twenty other girls who would love to be an inch away from his breathing space. Why are you asking me?”

Lucy gawked, looking around the cubicles for other reporters to share an incredulous look but no one dared look at their boundary-crossing boss. Her curly black hair whipped back around to you in seriousness.

“They don’t have a spect of talent that you do. And besides, what story is going to benefit from a fan writing about their idol or someone they wish to become their husband?”

“You think the other girls would try to… you know, sleep with him?”

“I think every person who had a mutual attraction with Johnny Storm would try and fuck him.”

“Jesus,” you muttered. “We’re at work you know.”

“I know you won’t though,” she smiled mischievously. “Even though you won’t admit he’s cute.”

“Lucy,” you sighed heavily. You put a hand to your forehead as if she was stressing you out.

“But I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I mean get it where you can.”

“I’m a professional,” you reminded her.

“Exactly.” Her eyes told you a million reasons to take the job against your better judgement.

Do it: there was plenty of money involved. Do it: imagine the publicity your writing would gain if you did. Do it: it may be published in a fan club publication but it will fly off the shelves and will bring money into the organization.

Do it: it’s only one, fifteen-hour session following around Johnny Storm for a “Day in the Life” feature that would be the first of its kind for any of the Fantastic Four.

Why couldn’t it have been Ben? Or Reed? You thought. At least with them you fathomed you’d be treated like an actual reporter, not just a set of eyes, boobs, and ass with two legs and a mouth that smiled pretty.

“$800.”

Shit.

Your eyes flicked up immediately, locking onto Lucy’s with a determination you didn’t have ten minutes ago. Now that was a bonus.

“Alright,” you sighed and nodded your head in agreement. “You’ve got a deal.”

The Baxter Building was a towering shadow in the center of the city. Scaling into the sky with reflective glass, the world bounced back from it like a mirror. Anyone could spot it from the edge of the river—the spaceship docked in its back lawn didn’t help hide it from view.

The four residents were something of a spectacle. In your opinion, they were the center of the universe when it came to politics, space exploration, and the general news. They brokered deals and were looked to by actual leaders to just about anything regarding the world’s most serious problems.

And they were handed that because they once rode through a cosmic storm and were transformed with abilities that brought forth a more dangerous era of life on Earth. You didn’t know how to reconcile the fame they achieved when dangers now lurked everywhere. You wished Earth would go back to the way it was. Boring news stories, a few interesting STEM articles, and an entertainment section that didn’t make the front page everyday.

It was easier. Simpler.

But there you were: standing anxiously outside of the Fantastic Four’s home to write an entertainment feature for the front page.

You adjusted your bag’s strap on your shoulder, straightening your spine and titling your chin higher in faux confidence. Finger lifting to the call button, you breathed out, breathed in, and pressed.

“This is the Baxter Building. Please state your name and matter of business at the tone,” a robotic voice responded.

As instructed, you relayed the information necessary. You tried to focus in on the glass before you but nothing of its contents inside appeared. Just you, your reflection, and the city still bustling behind you. The faint whizz of a police ship passed by above.

“Mr. Storm has been informed. Please wait patiently at door number 2.”

You stepped back to eye the numbers above the doors. You were at door number six and in your purview, another police ship flew by in the sky. Was it always this noisy for them?

Nevertheless, you positioned yourself outside of door two with space left for it to swing open and not hit your toes. Your heels were shiny, catching the light of day in polish while the woolen fabric of your dress beneath your coat caught the February chill.

How long would he make you wait? You fathomed he would take his time. Slowly descending from his golden palace, swiping at his hair to land in a perfect Ivy League wave, he’d wink at the few building employees he’d cross paths with along the way and send their body’s into nothing but a puddle of wooed soup to step over.

He was a hothead—that much you knew, or heard, rather. Boisterous, self-centered, and expectant. It was the why of Lucy’s ask of you. You wouldn’t melt into a puddle. Johnny would surely sense your displeasure of being there and give an honest, professional interview… at least, you imagined that was her “why.”

A minute ticked by and then two. You shifted again on your feet before giving up at standing straight and relaxing with a slouched hip. Three. Four. Five. A third police vehicle soared by and in a flash, a searing heat erupted from the middle of the building and poured down onto the street below. Your head whipped up so fast it gave you whiplash as the brightness of Johnny Storm’s body consumed by a fiery blaze flew off the side of the building.

You’d never been in the presence of any of the Four in their element, but it was magnificent, if not inconvenient. The heat melted snow around you and you realized that no one ever talked about it. He couldn’t touch anyone with the flames even if he wanted to. There was no way he wouldn’t seriously injury someone while fully lit.

However, for as quickly as he followed after the police, you knew the clock was ticking again. Service over duty, a little reporter isn’t going to halt the saving of those in danger. You looked around the courtyard and set at its center was an art piece depicting the powers of the family. It sat elevated enough for you to sit and you did: for fifty-three minutes while Johnny Storm saved the city.

Goodness was it cold outside.

Your feet had lost feeling long ago and your hands were locked together frozen. Your shoulder’s shook, legs bouncing to keep the blood flow alive.

At fifty-five minutes, the door to the Baxter Building opened with a start.

And by the heavens were you irritated by the tiny sliver of relief the intrusion offered. A small white and blue robot with eyes made of film reels appeared in the doorway.

It beeped at you from afar. You looked around. You were alone and the sole focus of the robot. With a finger, you pointed to yourself.

It sounded a robotic cheer and pointed a metal finger back.

“Hello,” it said loudly.

Alright then.

The robot had a four at the center of its chest and as you approached another decal became clear. In zigzagged letters it spelled out H.E.R.B.I.E.—its name.

“H.E.R.B.I.E.?” You inquired. It beeped. You were familiar with its design and its features. H.E.R.B.I.E. had been featured in a recent edition of Good Housekeeping and the “Four Favorite Meals” of the team were entombed into the social strata.

“I’m here to interview Mr. Storm. It was supposed to have begun an hour ago but—“

H.E.R.B.I.E. sounded again in acknowledgement.

“Johnny,” it said clearly. “Follow.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. led you through the doorway and into the spacious lobby you recognized from press conferences aired on the nightly news. The room was empty sans another lone robot watering a potted tree near a set of steps.

H.E.R.B.I.E led you to a bank of elevators and pressed the button labeled “up”.

“Upstairs,” H.E.R.B.I.E.’s static voice relayed.

“Upstairs,” you repeated. “Is Mr. Storm in now? I would rather wait—“

“Saving people,” H.E.R.B.I.E. answered. “Helping people.”

You nodded and it must have registered it as the end of the conversation because the bot wheeled itself to the panel, stuck its hand in a slot, and pressed floor twenty.

When the doors reopened, they opened up to a home.

The floor was magnificently built with floor to ceiling windows stealing the most treasured views of New York City. It was furnished and colored in aesthetic perfection. A central television, a sunken living space, the art of science hanging on the walls. It was gorgeous.

You logged a mental note at the lived-in nature of the vicinity. It didn’t feel unapproachable. This space and the rooms that flocked it were a true home. It wasn’t flaunting wealth or power, just a space to live and build the strange life they walked.

And it wasn’t what you had expected.

As someone without pomp and circumstance or a penny to spread far, you’d only seen the Fantastic Four as “heroes” and not “people.” That was a hard admission to swallow when the familiar heat met the side of your face again and the man of the hour landed softly on the balcony just outside of the tall living room windows.

When his flames extinguished, your breath caught in your throat.

Johnny Storm was handsome. He was the kind of handsome that the word seemed too light to apply—beautiful was more apt. His blond hair was perfectly molded in a suave, stylistic groom that left his face framed for viewing. Beneath the high swoop of his gelled bangs, his blue eyes shined brightly. The winter did nothing to dull them. The flames only ignited them to glow orange until he showed his true self and back to blue they went.

They seemed to go right through your skin and into your bones. Blue meeting the red blood inside of you only to make your heart jolt and pick up its pace.

As your eyes trailed his figure now landed and walking inside, his lips curled into a small, barely there smirk before attempting to play at professionalism. His tongue wet his lips; catching your eyes and pinpointing exactly what shape they took when pulled back and forming into soft curves again.

My. Your palms grew sweaty, back taut in sudden speechlessness. Johnny entered the living room and jogged up the small set of stairs to meet you. Jogged. He rushed up knowing his duty prevented you from doing your job.

“Hi,” his voice was out of breath.

Johnny held out his hand for you to shake. You glanced down at it, registering its purpose before wiping your palm on your coat discretely and filling the space between you.

A singe of heat lingered from his power.

“Hello,” you introduced yourself. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“It’s not a problem,” he waved off but his eyes, God… his eyes… they seemed to keep your feet planted to the floor. They gleamed further, crinkling at the sides. “I wanted to apologize for… that,” he jabbed his thumb toward the window. “We never know what it is they need us for.”

“I see.”

“You’ve met H.E.R.B.I.E. I take it?”

Johnny motioned to the robot beside you and put his hands on his hips. H.E.R.B.I.E.’s head looked from Johnny, to you, and back to Johnny.

“I think he saw me freezing to death outside and felt a little bad about it,” you admitted and bristled at the thought of being left outside for so long. “Are any other members of the team around today?”

Johnny gave a click of his tongue and walked around you to the kitchen just off the living room. H.E.R.B.I.E. followed after him obediently with a whirl.

“Reed’s in his lab today and Sue and Ben are off… somewhere. I’m afraid it’s just you and me today, sweetheart.” He shrugged in normalcy.

He didn’t comment on leaving you outside for an hour in the cold. You didn’t want to make it a problem but your toes were icicles even inside and your coat still burrowed the chill.

And sweetheart. He didn’t even know you! You were there for work and only work. Even if addressing your question, sweetheart wasn’t going to cut it.

You repeated your name. “It’s not sweetheart.”

Johnny pulled a box of cereal from a shelf and turned back around. “Force of habit. Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” It wasn’t. But you wondered, unprofessionally, if you’d be alright with him saying that off the clock.

“What paper do you write for?”

“For the New York Chronicle,” you replied and putzed with the strap of your bag to keep your hands busy. “We own the Flaming Hearts magazine.”

“I was expecting…” he didn’t finish the sentence.

“An adoring fan?”

He nodded and pulled a bowl out from a top shelf. As he reached, his shirt pulled on the muscles of his arms and your eyes attached to them like magnets.

Get a grip, you thought.

Johnny was handsome, you knew it—you got it. You weren’t blind and your body registered it in the way that the world already knew, you were just catching up. It just took you until this very moment to admit that Johnny Storm was perhaps the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on.

That realization was distracting.

It didn’t stop you from thinking of your purpose here or the fact that superheroes weren’t really your trademark of writing, however.

“I’m here to write about you truthfully. My editor didn’t think a fan could write without bias.”

“That’s nice,” he said sarcastically while pouring himself a bowl. Did you sour it? By not admitting you’re a fan of his? “I guess you’ve got a list of questions for me then?”

“I do,” you joined him the counter with ease as he settled on the other side by the sink.

His eyes tracked you like a foreign object. A woman, a pretty woman, here for him with a very different intent than he was familiar with. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your coat as you sat on a stool and unearthed a pad of paper and a pen from your bag.

The muted colors of your clothes differed from the space around you. You looked like a journalist, he thought. Yet you were pretty and the way you straightened out your back and brushed at your forehead with a manicured nail captured his attention more than he was expecting.

Gorgeous. He wasn’t sure of any other word.

“My editor said that this is supposed to be a… informal, formal interview. I will ask you questions that are casual and people want to know, make you seem like an everyday guy, and then write it as a feature piece of the magazine.”

“I think I’m an everyday guy,” he quirked his head to the side.

You looked up from your paper and gazed at him seriously. Johnny was eating a bowl of cereal after igniting into flames and saving a small part of the city. That was not normal. It didn’t make him an “everyday guy” and maybe he, like you, also has some grappling to do.

“Yeah,” you lightly snickered. “I think we have different ideas of what makes someone normal.”

You didn’t mean to call him abnormal. But it came out and he took it that way.

Shit.

“What I meant was—“ you attempted to clarify yet his face already merged into one of abject offense. The interview hadn’t even started, you only met not five minutes ago, and you already know your name was at the bottom of the Do Not Let These Reporters In List.

“I know what you meant,” Johnny said chewing. “I’ve heard it before just not from someone cute.”

“Mr. Storm—“

“Johnny,” he clarified.

“Mr. Storm,” you insisted, “I didn’t mean offense. I think it’s clear that we lead two very different lives and I am just here to get a story.”

It didn’t even register to you that he called you cute.

His spoon clattered to the edge of the bowl. You wanted to do nothing more than climb into Sub-Terrania and hide forever. Why did you take this job? Why did Lucy have to offer that much money?

“You’d think a reporter from my own magazine would at least like me a little bit,” he said and you furrowed your brows.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you don’t exactly look like you want to be here right now.” He gestured to your coat and rigid body.

“I told you,” you reminded him, “I work for the Chronicle, not your magazine. And it’s not yours, per se. It’s just about you. And what does my dress have anything to do about wanting to be here? I am here, aren’t I? I waited outside in the cold for an hour just to do this job.”

“Take off your coat,” he ordered passively and walked back around the corner. From your sitting position, he leaned up against the chair beside you. He was so close now.

His body heat radiated. It was natural now, the warmth he gave off absentmindedly.

“I like my coat,” you answered as the frigidness melted away.

“You’re going to be here all day and I would rather you not snag it on any of our projects while we take a tour.”

“A tour?” He was being considerate—not something you considered about him at all.

“What better way to figure out who I am?” He looked down at you. He wasn’t towering as he stood beside you but he wasn’t short either.

Your eyes met. Both meeting a challenge of what this day was going to be like.

A girl who doesn’t like heroes or abnormal attractive guys with flirtatious banter battling a boy who doesn’t like being underestimated and thinks said girl is the most attractive reporter he’s ever seen.

“All the secrets that make Johnny Storm brilliant are hidden here,” his gave small smile and leaned in close. “Aren’t you the least bit curious how the magic happens?”

“I’m a bit afraid of what magic you’re implying.”

His mouth shifted into a truthful grin. It was the kind that pulled at the edges of a person and cracked them open wide for the world to see.

“And I thought I was the one with the dirty mind. I guess trait belongs to you, sweetheart.”

That name again. You sucked in a fast breath.

“That’s not my name.”

Johnny tapped the back of the stool he stood at in a melodic pattern. H.E.R.B.I.E. rolled up beside him like a dog beside its owner.

“I know.” He tilted his head toward the staircase to the left. “Come on. Leave the coat. I promise it’s warmer here.”

The only thing you knew for certain was the warmth didn’t spread from the outside in. It was felt in your cheeks and your face, burning at his comfortable commands that would certainly be replayed in a different manner once this interview was done.

You had to keep reminding yourself that Johnny Storm was not a man who you wanted to woo you. This was all work and no play. None.

You just had to promise yourself that this was it all it was going to be.

“Out of all of the rooms in the building, this one is my least favorite.”

Johnny paused before a door labeled “Do Not Enter” about an hour into the tour.

Every room that you had passed thus far had been accompanied by a lengthy description of what was beyond the door and if you were lucky, Johnny would open it for a tiny peak. You were informed that three weeks ago, the apartment had been deep cleaned for an interview that Reed and Sue had done which featured the home.

It seemed everyone and their mother wanted to know where the family ate, slept, and spent all their free time.

You’d asked how he felt about being at the center of the universe but he just smiled at you and neglected to answer—only leaving the door open for you to follow through to the gym on the seventh floor.

Reed’s office was closed off when you went by but you could hear the static going off behind the door.

“Any reason why?”

Johnny wiggled the handle. It didn’t budge.

“My brother-in-law loves to keep me out when the experiments get too… involved.”

“Aren’t you a scientist too?” You asked and he turned his head with a surprised amusement.

“Scientist?”

“Well you did go to space so I assumed.”

“Mechanic,” he clarified. “Or I guess an engineer of sorts. I shoot pretty good too. And I can fly a spacecraft, if asked.”

You wrote down his reply and he waited silently as you carefully worded the response. H.E.R.B.I.E. rolled up to his legs, knocking into him slightly with the loud beep.

“I swore I read you have a degree somewhere,” you mumbled.

“I do,” Johnny’s eyes widened in surprise. “A couple years back, before… you know, everything, I studied in California.”

“Stanford.”

“That’s the school,” he replied lightly. He was impressed to say the least. You knew something about him and remembered it enough to bring it up.

“Question,” H.E.R.B.I.E. output to Johnny.

H.E.R.B.I.E. was the most intelligent of robots but neglected to understand that this was an interview. H.E.R.B.I.E. nudged Johnny again expecting him to ask you questions in return.

“What about you?” Johnny asked uncertainly as he looked down at the robot and motioned in confusion at the question he posed.

“What about me?” You replied still writing.

“Are… you? A…” again, he looked down at H.E.R.B.I.E., “scientist?”

H.E.R.B.I.E. groaned and you laughed. You laughed. For the entirety of the interview he’d come to expect you to never give in to his jokes and while his question was worded poorly and he didn’t actually mean to say scientist, he felt his world relax at the sound.

The melody of your laughter laid softly inside of his mind like a lullaby. It was natural and free and completely you—something you’d yet to show him during the short time you’ve spent together.

You’d been professional and kept your kindness at an arms length. You were curt and serious, not playful nor buying into his comments that bordered on suggestive.

“If you consider writing a science, sure. Most people would consider it an art. So, I’m an artist.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat and patted H.E.R.B.I.E.’s head as he stepped past.

“But about the mechanic thing,” you looked up from your paper and Johnny forgot what he said before.

Every time you looked at him, he felt himself grow fonder of the way it made him feel. The silly feeling of love at first sight being marred as ridiculous in his perspective yet he swore that’s what it was.

He could listen to you talk all day.

“Do you have a shop or anything here? Or is it more isolated to here,” you motioned to the lab door. “Does he let you in to work?”

“I have a room,” Johnny said quickly. His excitement poured through his speech. “It’s not here. It’s a shop just off 4th and Wash Square—“

“I know of it.” Your eyes lit up in recognition. “I take the train from there to work everyday.”

Small world.

“Really?” He said honestly.

“That’s a far way from here,” you added. “Any reason why?”

“I guess because it’s my own little place.” He put his hand on the door handle again casually. His grip was strong.

Your eyes caught sight of his hand as it strained on the handle nervously, like he was admitting something for the first time. Had he never talked about this before? You knew he had talked about vehicles and that he’d love to race cars one day but that was Q & A session on the back of an entertainment rag at the grocery store.

“There’s nothing but me and the car and it’s kind of peaceful. It’s peaceful here but it’s a fishbowl, you know? Everyone feels like they know us when we are here but when I go there, it makes me feel like they don’t really know me. They just know The Human Torch, not Johnny. The shop makes me feel like me.”

“I’m not going to write that.”

His face dropped.

“Why? Didn’t you say you wanted this to be human? Or that you’re trying to make me sound more personable?” Johnny grew defensive.

“I’m not going to write that because once they,” you tipped your head to the windows, “know about that little shop, you won’t have one day of peace for the rest of your life.”

Oh. Oh. He hadn’t thought about that.

“That’s…” he tried to find the words.

The shop was his little slice of paradise. He could tinker away and no one would come looking because they knew that not only was he safe, he was alone.

Sue let him have his space there because it made him happy. It was the most happy she’d seen him since they were kids and while you might not have known that, it meant more to him that your integrity wasn’t going to jeopardize his peace.

He’d given you a part of his humanity and you’d shown him mercy. A trade off of the hour.

“That’s real nice of you.”

“It’s what a decent person would do,” you brushed it off casually and held the pad of paper to your chest.

“You’d be surprised by how few of those exist.”

You smiled at him softly. A blush bloomed on his cheeks and he looked off towards the city outside his home. H.E.R.B.I.E. whirled by toward the direction you were heading next.

Breathing in deep, you took the first step and barely brushed Johnny’s shoulder as you walked by.

“Can’t keep H.E.R.B.I.E. waiting, can we?”

Johnny shook his head and bit back his smile, peaking down at his shoes to hold it in. He played with the handle of Reed’s lab once more before turning on his heel and walking a step behind you.

“Did you always want to be a reporter?” He felt his confidence return in bounds.

You hummed. “Since I was a little kid.”

“Why the news and not books?”

“I’m not that creative,” you admitted. “And aren’t I supposed to be asking you these questions?”

“Just curious.” Johnny pulled his hands together behind his back. “Besides, this isn’t going to be fun if I don’t learn about you too.”

“But that’s not the purpose of this.”

“Are you always a rule follower or only when interviewing superheroes?”

You stopped walking and turned around. He caught himself before crashing into you.

“I’m not a rule follower,” you told him. Johnny wasn’t convinced. “I’m on the clock.”

“I’m always on the clock but I have a good time too,” he skirted around you and began his walk backwards.

You huffed and followed.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“It’s prudish,” he countered, hands still bound behind his back.

“It’s a boundary,” you challenged.

“It’s an imprisonment.”

“That’s a strong word.”

It was Johnny’s turn to shrug. “I don’t take it back, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“I didn’t ask you to take it back. That’s your opinion, not mine.”

“So you’re making this a challenge for me?”

“A challenge?” Your brows shot up and then came together.

“For you to admit you had a good time hanging out with the one and only Johnny Storm by the end of the today.” He referred to himself in third person and you weren’t sure if that was inducing a wince in response or a short track to the answer.

You already knew what your response would be.

Your heart hadn’t stopped thumping, hands still sweaty. Your stomach grew with butterflies every time he looked in your direction and no matter if you sat in silence the rest of the day, today would be the most entertaining experience you’d ever had.

But Johnny didn’t need an ego boost right now.

“We are already a couple hours in,” you checked the small golden watch at your wrist. “You have twelve hours to change my mind it appears.”

“I could have sworn I had gotten a smile out of you earlier.” Johnny’s teeth grazed over his bottom lip. “And maybe even a laugh too. Those are pretty good signs to me that I’m winning this.”

“I don’t recall—“

“Yes you do.” His voice grew louder in amusement. You peered away from him, not willing to gaze into those blue beacons because you knew that he’d see a liar.

You did smile and laugh with him. That was a sign of enjoyment if there ever was one.

“You smiled and laughed and you don’t want to admit it because it means you’ve already lost and I’ve won.”

“You didn’t win anything. I don’t even know what we’re playing for!”

“To prove that you—“

“No,” you let a breathless chuckle escape your lips as his misunderstanding and his eyes pinned you in the hallway laughing again.

Point: Johnny.

“I meant the prize. What’s the prize if you win or if I win?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I didn’t think that far out yet.”

“Oh,” you played disappointment. “So, I guess that means the smarts only extend to engineering then?”

Johnny’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Did you just make an attempt at a borderline offensive joke that he would totally love to hear?

You did.

“You’re going to wish you never said that,” he teased.

Were you really doing this?

“Well you didn’t name your price, Mr. Storm.”

“Mr. Storm,” he muttered like he’d never been called that before. “You’re obedient, you know that?”

“Like a dog.”

“Fine,” he put his hands on his hips. “You wanna know my price?”

“Name it.”

“If you enjoyed yourself by the end of today—really, truly enjoyed yourself—you gotta let me take you out on a date.”

“A date?” You confirmed.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d have the gall to banter with Johnny. If Lucy could see you now she’d be asking to collect her winnings in the office betting pool. You were emotionally weak to Johnny’s charm and you hadn’t expected that.

“That’s all? Just a date?”

Both of your minds raced to that appetizing place. It stirred with from within, billowing into full blown fantasies of the dark. Imaginations painted a lustful affair; the tugging of lips and the grasping of skin. Polished nails digging into heated flesh and the sounds of two bodies combining rung deeply in echos of the hallway.

“I mean,” his face turned pink and his right hand rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Too late.

There was far more interest in the fantasy than either of you let on. You let the blushes fall apart and dared your minds to venture into that place again.

“Fine,” you agreed. “But if I have a terrible time… a really, horribly agonizing time, you have to… be my assistant for a day. Like come to the office and everything. Get my coffee, make my copies, all of it.”

Amused, Johnny dropped his hand. “That’s it?”

“What?”

“Your assistant? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Well… yeah,” you replied. “I don’t have time to think of something worse.”

“Either way I think I win, though,” Johnny stepped forward again but this time with his hand extended similar to how he had greet you two hours before.

Yet his hand was offered with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. Every time he reached for it, the purpose was different.

“And why’s that?” You accepted his hand and relished the way it perfectly encapsulated your own. His hand was soft and cooler than it was prior.

You wondered if he could still feel the sweat the settled in your palm.

“Because no matter what I get to spend more time with you and I think that’s a win.”

You didn’t know what to say to that but your heart surely responded with a thump.

Johnny’s bedroom is not where you thought you’d end up after imagining what it would be like to fuck him.

He had lingered by the door at the end of the hall with his own curiosity threatening to change the atmosphere. It wasn’t like being in his bedroom was automatically leading you to a rumble in the sheets.

His room was the essence of him. If Johnny really wanted the world to see a normal guy, his bedroom is where he surely showed it.

It was clean and shared the same views overlooking the city as the rest of the apartment. Amidst the wooden paneling and the filled shelves, a round bed sat centered and an elevated seating area with the nicest record player you’d ever seen was placed adjacent.

It was well used based on Johnny’s collection of vinyls that bathed the room on either side.

He offered you the chair overlooking the city and made himself comfortable on the floor across from you. Having taken off his shoes, his socked white feet were constantly moving from side to side like he couldn’t sit still with every question you asked.

The clock ticked away.

“Sports team?”

“I’d say the Mets but I don’t want to make anyone mad, so Yankees.”

“If you could have any other job in the world, what would it be?”

“Race—“

“—car driver,” you finished his words for him. “I should have known that one.”

“Yes.” Johnny’s fingers traced the edges of his lips as he fought a grin. “You know me so well.”

His lips pulled and you thought about how nice they’d be to kiss. They appeared soft and pink, just plush enough to leave a lingering tingle in the spots he’d lay delicate memories to your skin.

Someone once said that the beauty marks on a person’s body were the remnants of places their lovers had once kissed.

Maybe in another lifetime the ones on your own were lives lived with Johnny. You shook away the thought when reality snapped back in. You were rushing and only fools did that.

You read through question after question to get a full extent of who Johnny was. These questions, the mediocre ones, were the kind that people wanted to read about.

“First love?”

“Oh.” His tone dropped an octave. “Look who’s trying to learn about my exes now.”

“It’s not me,” you reminded him, again. “It’s the readers, remember?”

“I don’t think they’re the ones coming up with them.”

“Then it’s my editor. She’s obsessed, move along. First love?” You asked again.

“Ramona Mitchell—second grade. She shared her animals crackers with me and broke up with me at the water fountain.”

“Tragic,” you fought the indulgence chuckle.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything Ben makes.”

“That’s not a food,” you countered.

“He makes a mean pasta,” he thought on it. “But I’m from Long Island and you can’t beat some restaurants there.”

“I’ve never been to Long Island.”

You said it passively. Solely focused on writing his response down, your face inclined toward the paper and not to him. Watching him sit there casually was making this feel more and more like a choice rather than a job.

He sat up straighter on the floor.

“What do you mean you’ve never been to Long Island? It’s like… right there!?”

You put the pad of paper down on the table beside you. Crossing your legs, Johnny’s eyes followed them as you settled into the new position.

“I’ve been to Brooklyn before.”

“That’s not Long Island,” he said as if he was a geography expert.

“It’s on Long Island so maybe it counts a little.”

You leaned back into the chair and folded your arms across your chest. This was comfortable. Johnny was surprisingly easy to talk to and you’d be remiss if you said you weren’t loose to the idea of someone to talk to. He listened, he asked, and he looked like he was interested in anything and everything you had to say.

“But you wouldn’t say that Manhattan is the same as Brooklyn as to Queens or as to the Bronx.”

“No,” you agreed. “I suppose I wouldn’t.”

“And I’m talkin’ deep Long Island,” he emphasized his words with an extension of his hand. “Like the kind where your favorite deli is owned by the cousin of the ex-boyfriend of your mother’s best friend and they know you by name kind of deep.”

“That sounds like it’s from experience, not a universal trait.”

“I guess we’ll have to go see and ask them then,” he smirked as though he knew he’d prove you right.

“Time isn’t on our side today.” You glanced down at the watch on your wrist. You’d been talking in his room for nearly five hours—seven hours to go.

“Another day then.” Johnny crossed his feet at his ankles. “I’ll show you our old stomping ground and take you to one of those delis.”

You laughed not out of amusement but out of nerves. It sounded a hell of a lot like a date.

“Is this the part where I ask you what you think is the perfect date? According to the survey, our readers really want to know how Johnny Storm would make them fall in love.”

“What’s your ideal perfect date?”

“I’m not the one being interviewed here.”

“Amuse me,” Johnny bartered. “And then I’ll ask H.E.R.B.I.E. to make us some lunch.”

You sighed, gazing out the window in thought at the question. What constituted the “perfect date?” You weren’t entirely sure there was one concrete answer because everyone had a different opinion.

However, if Johnny could be open and honest for the sake of a magazine, you could be honest for him.

“I guess it would be doing something that interested me.”

“Go on,” he urged. Those interested blue eyes bore into you.

“I don’t know… I would hope that before I am asked out on a date that a guy would listen to me. Ask me about my interests and discover things I like so that when we go, they choose a place that I would like to go to. Someone says they like art and they go to a museum; someone likes music, they go to a show—that kind of stuff.”

“But what about you? Not someone else, you.”

“I like going to the pictures. Museums and the city zoo is nice too. But sometimes I don’t want to make a big fuss about it all and a diner is nice. Just a little hole-in-the-wall place where the coffee is stale but the food is good and the company doesn’t care that it’s not a five star establishment.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” he nodded his head in agreement.

“Dating doesn’t have to be flashy. I see the kinds of things that are written about your sister and her husband. I couldn’t imagine being under that microscope.”

“It’s a choice they made—to be open about everything. I’m not sure they like the constant guessing of what the baby is going to be, but they don’t mind the interest in their lives.”

“What about you?” You asked him. “The perfect date? Being in the public eye?”

“I don’t mind it,” Johnny said with little thought. “It’s just part of the job and people have been pretty nice about it all. It’s not everyday you have to trust someone like me to help out.”

“So you admit it,” a small, rewarding grin played at your lips. You saw his gaze flick to them and back to your eyes. “You’re not normal then?”

His eyes narrowed playfully. “Was that a trick question?”

“No. Just an honest one. Date?”

He sat with his response for a minute, falling back against the record player’s built-in. Johnny liked having you here. It felt normal and easy and not like anyone else he’d ever known.

“Mr. Storm?” You pressed.

“You don’t give a guy any time to think, do you, sweetheart? And it’s Johnny.”

“I don’t have forever,” you reminded him. He wished you did.

“What you said.”

“Excuse me?”

Johnny’s smug face was rewarded with your surprise. His head tilted up as he rephrased, “you described my perfect date.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes,” he dug in further, “you did.”

“But that’s my perfect date. We are two very different people.”

“Opposites attract and all,” he commented. “I want her to feel comfortable and safe. If I take her race car driving on the first date, she might never speak to me again or if she’s someone I really, really like, then I want her to feel like I’m making an effort to get to know her. Getting to know me can come later. Preferably here, in this room, with a record on and very little taking.”

You felt that warmth invade your body once more.

Your band of resistance was starting to snap.

“Mr. Storm,” you started.

“Johnny.”

“You know I can’t write that down.”

“It wasn’t for you to write down,” he said seriously. “It was for you to know.”

“Why would I need to know that?”

The space inside of his room shrunk. The only thing that existed was the small, elevated section you both sat upon: you in the chair, he on the floor.

Your comment sat heavy in the hair. Hanging there above your heads, it twirled into a storm of those savory thoughts from a few hours ago. Neither of you had forgotten about it—how your minds automatically raced to imagine what it would be like to sit just a little closer, inch your hands toward the other.

He knew what your palm felt like in his and it was perfect. Slotted to a perfect puzzle piece and he knew this feeling was the ultimate one that Sue told him about. It was the universe opening portals to emotions he didn’t know existed and stretching him in directions he didn’t anticipate going.

“I know we don’t know each other well,” Johnny started slowly as he broached the topic.

“We don’t know each other at all,” you clarified.

“People have done a lot more knowing a lot less.”

“I feel like I’ve had to remind you that I’m working several times,” you uncrossed your legs and moved to stand.

Johnny scrambled to his feet and that line had been crossed. He didn’t know how to return to the other side and wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

All that talk of a perfect date and he just wished someone would give him a real chance to show off. You listened and maybe right that second you didn’t feel like you knew him, but you did.

Johnny had given you more answers in seven entire hours than he’d allowed anyone else to hear in his life besides his family. You cracked a part of him open without waving the slightest finger in attempting to do so.

“I’m sorry if I gave you an impression that it wasn’t professional.” You gathered your paper and pen from the table and aimed for the door.

He rushed toward you frantically. Johnny cut off the path to the door by standing in front of it. The look on your face immediately sent him into orbit. He was spiraling.

“Sorry!” He said quickly. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I just… I just thought that, well, I don’t know! I felt something, okay?”

“Mr. Storm, please—“

“You gotta stop with that Mr. Storm shit.” He let out a stressed groan, a hand wiping over his face in duress. “You’re tellin’ me that you haven’t felt it too?”

God did you feel it. You felt the pull so strong that it was sending your own synapses into overdrive. You couldn’t be here any longer. He pushed open the flood gates and allowed those feelings to spur deeper, rising into that forbidden territory you couldn’t come back from.

This was what all those other reporters wanted and the one thing that you weren’t expecting. You were attracted to Johnny. Immensely. He was charming and sweet—far more interesting and curious than you realized. He was the one guy that was as engaged with your own answers as he was with his own and it was a drug. A highly addictive drug that wouldn’t last because he was a hero and you were a journalist.

Those two things didn’t mix.

They couldn’t mix.

It was wrong. It was inappropriate. But fuck, did it sound so, so good.

“It’s not appropriate. I don’t sleep with my clients.”

“Then end the interview,” he said like it was easy. “I’m not a client anymore.”

“Is this just for you to get your rocks off?” Your eyes narrowed and he held up his hands defensively.

“No! No!” He exclaimed. Maybe you were being too harsh. “If you want to leave, go ahead.” Johnny backed away from the door and settled at its side.

There was a pathway out now.

“I’m not trying to make you break any rules,” he said softly. “That wasn’t my intention. But tell me you don’t feel it too. It feels like you stuck dynamite in my chest and it’s ready to explode.”

You knew the sentiment well. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t be what Lucy and all the rest of them wanted to be.

“I can’t, Johnny.” He melted at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I’m not trying to be like those other girls.”

“So you’re not like the rest of them, huh?” He joked.

“No,” you replied painfully. “Unfortunately I’m just like them it seems because I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.”

You threw your hands up in defeat and paced around his room in circles. He just stood by the door and watched amused as you worked through what he already figured out.

“I guess that means you won, right? It’s not even the goddamn end of the day and I’m already throwing in the towel because I don’t have a little more self control.” You let out a rueful snicker. “And to think I was so certain that I could do this!? I mean, it’s not like you’re my type or anything.”

“And that is…?”

“Nice!” You answered loudly. “And not one to say crude things all the time.”

“They weren’t crude, they were suggestive. For a writer I would hope you would know the difference.”

You stopped pacing and looked at him with your mouth agape. “Why you—“

“Careful,” he held up a finger, “your name calling game isn’t that strong. Might I suggest ‘most handsome man on the planet’ or ‘hero of my heart’ instead?”

“Oh my god,” you wailed. “I can’t believe I am even the slightest bit attracted to you!”

“I think it’s a little more than slight, sweetheart. You were ready to burn this building to the ground at the mere thought of sleeping with me and I think that means you’ve at least thought about it before.”

“I have not!”

“You’ve thought about kissing me.”

“That’s different,” you emphasized. Of course you thought about fucking him too. He’s Johnny fucking Storm and he’s been giving you “fuck me” eyes for the last five hours.

“It all leads to somewhere else in the end.”

“So you were implying that. I’m not crazy.” Your eyes widened like you were.

“I didn’t say you were. And you’re not, by the way.”

Johnny just settled against the wall and crossed his arms against his chest. The muscles of his biceps strained at the short sleeves of his white tee and invited you in.

“Having a little bit of fun doesn’t make you less of a journalist,” he said your name for the first time. Not sweetheart or any other pet name.

Johnny. You. It was personal now.

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not that kind of guy and I hope you didn’t get the idea that I would be that kind of guy. You’re nice, real nice, and I really enjoy talking to you. There aren’t many people who are willing to listen and take things with an open mind.”

God. He needed to stop talking.

“Plus I think H.E.R.B.I.E likes you. He felt real bad about leaving you out in the cold like that.”

Stop talking, Johnny.

“And I do too. Sorry about that, by the way,” he laughed slightly at the predicament. “I’m not used to putting people that aren’t my family first but I’m open to the idea…”

His blue eyes beat you down. Stop fucking talking.

“If we had more time I would have—“

You couldn’t take it anymore. Dropping your pad of paper and pen to the ground, you closed the distance between the two of you in a few long strides and grasped his face between your hands, planting your lips onto his in a heartbeat.

His words halted.

Fusing together like atoms, the electricity of your mouths falling into sync quieted both minds. It was tranquil. His face cupped between your hands tilted, angling to the side and opening up further. Johnny’s tongue begged for mercy between your lips, melding together with yours in tune to the beating of your hearts.

Something sprouted inside of you. Building from your toes to your mind, it tingled your limbs into numbness where nothing else but Johnny’s hands weaving around your waist and cradling the back of your head mattered.

This is what it felt like—attraction.

It was all consuming and all knowing. It recognized parts of you that had been sleeping and awoken to a giant tower ready to climb. His smooth face fell from your hands as they dropped to his neck; trailing the edges of the scoop of his shirt and feeling the molds of his chest before settling there. One hand turned into a fist to gather his shirt with a tug, drawing him closer and leaving no space between you.

His lips were as you imagined: soft and inviting. There were no words needed to accept the fact that you were holding everything back for nothing. This was as it should be. He was kind. He was considerate.

He was charming, funny, nervous, clumsy, confident, handsome, smart, entertaining, and didn’t force you into this.

It fell into place. As two objects in motion collided, the motions continued on.

Johnny’s hands groped you tightly, barely allowing you time to breathe as your lips parted. His hands paved a path down your body and tested the waters with bated breath. You didn’t stop him. You craved the feeling of his hands on your body.

You pulled back from his lips but he chased after them, drunk on the feeling. You knocked your nose gently into his as you breathed in deep breaths.

“You can touch me,” you reassured him. His eyes stayed focused on your mouth.

“As long as you’re sure.”

“More than sure.”

Johnny’s hands slid down to your ass and cupped you roughly. His grip pulled you flush against him and with a groan, your lips caught his chin and dotted kisses along the column of his neck.

He thought he was dreaming. Five minutes ago he was certain you were going to flee the apartment and speak his name into forbidden existence because of his brash assessment. Here you were, kissing him mad and he was imprinting a picture of your body forever in his mind. You were luxurious and finite. There was only ever going to be one of you and he was never going to forget what this moment caused.

The rapture within him was cemented.

“You know,” he murmured against your kisses when your lips returned to his. “I did really want to take you out on a date before all this.”

“I told you that I don’t follow the rules,” you nipped at his chin playfully.

“You surprise me.”

“Good,” you smiled. You backed away from him and his hands fell to his sides loosely. “And I’m not going to write an article about you anymore either.”

“No?”

You hummed and shook your head. “Can’t now. I’m too biased in my storytelling to be truthful.”

Johnny took a step forward and you took one back.

“And the honest truth is what, sweetheart?”

“That Johnny Storm isn’t the man everyone thinks he is.” Another step forward, another back. “He’s a good man with a good family and similar morals. He likes to have a fun time but within the bounds of his duty and he’s a romantic at heart—not a womanizer.”

“I would really like to womanize you, however.”

Johnny bit down on his bottom lip. You extended your hand and he gladly took it, leaping into your space again and tumbling with you onto his bed at the center of the room. You fell back with a thud and his body weighed heavy on top of yours.

“Johnny Storm defies the expectations we have of him,” you continued on.

The hand not entwined with his own came back to his face and brushed stray blond bangs from his forehead.

“And the lucky few who get to know the real Johnny will always know his true heroism lies within.”

Johnny’s smile widened. “That’s real cheesy—you know that, right?”

You grinned back and returned your hand to the back of his head where the shortened hairs weaved between your fingertips. Johnny pulled your intertwined hands up above your head.

“I think it’s a perfect story.”

His story or this one playing out now, he wasn’t sure which was better.

“Yeah,” he placed a soft kiss on your lips. “Me too.”

“You’d sacrifice the world for your family and I admire that.”

“Now you’re getting sappy on me,” he laughed. He laid a peck beside your ear. “You don’t need to butter me up to make something happen.”

“I’m not buttering you up.”

You titled your head to the side to give him access to the side of your face, neck, and when his hand tugged at the top of your dress, the bit of clavicle he was able to reach.

His touch set you ablaze. Burning from the sensations his gentle lips left behind, Johnny knew how to touch a woman and make her feel good. It was something he’d perfected in his thirty years on Earth.

“You remember what I said about my perfect date?” His voice was muffled by the wool of your dress.

“Oh,” you gave an awe inspired sigh. “Was that you buttering me up? How you got me here?”

“You did that all on your own.”

Johnny’s head turned back up to face you and he rested his chin at the curve of your breasts. You hadn’t realized he had moved down that far on your body. He slowly slipped his lean frame to the edge of the bed, kneeling at its base and letting his hands fall to the backs of your knees. They glided down your calves and to your ankles, playing with the straps of your shoes.

“Tell me that you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

You sat up on your elbows. His hands grasped your right foot. Slowly pulling at the buckle of your heel and undoing the strap to where you shoe fell off your foot with a small clunk when it hit the floor.

Johnny’s gaze didn’t escape yours. He waited for you to change your mind. The anticipation of your soft rejection pounding at his ribcage.

His hands moved to your left leg and when the second shoe dropped, Johnny’s hands caressed the skin of your shin.

“I wouldn’t have let you do that if I didn’t,” you told him.

“When I said that your perfect date is how I see my perfect date, I also should have said that I want her to be satisfied when it’s all over.”

You swallowed a lump that had formed in your through from the promise. God. You couldn’t believe you ended up here.

“I’m not asking you to give out to me,” he nodded at you. Johnny asked you to give him the confirmation he needed. “So if it’s not today, it will be another time.”

The ghosting of his fingertips on the backs of your knees sent a chill up your body.

“Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous?”

“I mean…” he smirked, lips placing peppered kissed along your kneecap. “I think I may have won the bet.”

He did. He knows he fucking did.

Johnny’s hands roamed to the end of your dress. His thumbs pushed the fabric that had grown far too warm on your body upwards, watching you in permission that every inch higher was not crossing the boundary of what you were willing to give to him.

His position between your legs prevented them from closing in bashfulness. His tongue wet his lips as the curve of your hips forced his hands harder to give him access. Johnny paused again.

“You’re sure?” He asked quietly.

You nodded, running a hand through his short hair. The hesitancy you had yesterday seemed like a distant memory. Johnny enraptured you and while you were breaking every rule in the book, you couldn’t stop here. Not when he was kneeling for you. Not when he wanted to taste you.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Putting your free hand atop his, you guided it to the top of your panties in invitation.

“Lay down,” he ordered and you complied. Obedient. “Relax.” Came next and in a mere whisper as the fabric slipped from your body and the cool air now exposed to your body made you aware of how wet you were.

“I’m gonna take care of you.”

Kissing the inside of your thigh, you stared at the ceiling in disbelief. You felt his piercing gaze upon you; he measured your body in the way it folded and it heaved.

And he kept a promise of taking care of you—not himself. As much as the sight of you, bare and wanting before him made his soul burn, he knew this wouldn’t be your last meeting.

His kisses drew closer. Johnny’s hot breath met the crux between your legs before any other part of him did. His lips barely grazed you and your thighs trembled with his head stuck between them.

Johnny didn’t miss the sharp intake of your breath when he finally lowered his mouth to you. And my, he had never tasted someone as sweet as you. His tongue glided along the wetness that had already gathered and focused his attention to your clit. He gave in to a merciless pace; circling and sucking—your toes curled to hold you back.

Your hand wrapped into his hair and tugged at the strands. His arms held onto your sides and tracked the curve of your body as he pulled you closer. The response he was receiving was Pavlovian. Forever he’d bend at the sounds of your sighs, of the feel of your nails raking against the base of his skull. He’d dream of the flesh he devoured and sing songs of the pleasures he took.

Johnny Storm hadn’t believed in love at first sight until today.

And you hadn’t imagined giving him a chance until he had greeted you that morning.

His tongue increased its pressure on your bud. Pressing down as he lapped the wetness of his saliva and your arousal into his method and used it to lower himself smoothly.

A whine escaped your lips when his fingers left your side and helped open you up to him. Splitting you open and allowing his tongue to pin you to the bed. Your knees shook, legs coming to bend beside his head as his shoulders lurched to catch them. Johnny’s opposite hand held you down, settling at the base of your stomach.

“Holy mother of—“

He hummed and it sent a vibration through you.

As he had kissed you before, his tongue flicked inside of you in a passionate rhythm. His eyes closed to relish in the sounds of your neediness. Johnny didn’t tell you to be quiet because he didn’t want you to be. You could shout, scream, or cry out and he’d ask you for more. Give him everything, he wanted to imply, but he couldn’t ask for everything at that very moment.

You were taking everything he was giving like it was made for you. Hell, maybe he was.

The fingers he had used to help open you up remained rubbing up and down the sides of your pussy while his tongue explored the horizons beyond it. You felt one move, his middle finger, and it joined his tongue, curling into you gently.

“Oh god,” you groaned. His mouth curved into a smirk, backing away centimeters.

“Johnny is fine,” his voice had turned gravely. “But I’ll take being a god any day.”

And that laughter. It filled him so deeply that not even the strain in his jeans could distract him from the innate pleasure of hearing you respond to him. He continued on, letting his finger work against your plush walls and master the craft of you.

His mouth refocused to your clit which he did not abandon on purpose. Johnny quickened his pace, unrelenting and fixed on assisting you to the end. It built, like a flame kindling from a spark and tingling every cell in your body.

Your shoulders tensed, anticipating a release but infatuated with the way his ministrations only pulled back when he knew you were getting too close. He was keeping you on your toes. Johnny let you feel and experience the pleasure outside of simply working toward an orgasm.

Earn it. You had to earn it.

“You gonna keep teasing me like that or what?” You whined.

“I’m just not done with you yet.” His finger left you empty before coming back with its neighbor. “We’ve got time.”

“I don’t think we have time today,” you seemed to always remind him that you had a deadline. “Maybe another day.”

“Now who’s asking for a second date?”

“This isn’t a date.” His fingers reached lengths you were unable to do yourself. Your back arched in his grasp and his grasp tightened.

“Then our first date will be amazing.” Cocky son-of-a-bitch.

“Jesus,” you couldn’t help the spattering of words that flew from your lips as the precipice gained on you again.

“Johnny,” he repeated.

“Johnny,” you cried back. “I—“

“I can feel you, sweetheart.”

The familiarity of your orgasm climbed the mountain of your thrill rapidly approached. Recalling the minutes he spent prior being agonizingly slow, then picking up his pace, your ears captured the most bawdy sounds of excitement. His fingers were coated in your slick, chin glistening in the slightest with remnants of what he’d take as a prize.

You turned your head to watch his fingers disappear inside of you and your chest nearly caved.

“Come here,” you breathed in heavy. Johnny’s brow furrowed.

“Wha—“

“Just kiss me.”

With his fingers still pumping frantically inside of you, Johnny pushed up from the ground and let your hands pull his face toward yours. You had never tasted yourself on the lips of a lover before and you cherished the intimacy of the notion.

He felt your shoulders stutter, your body shaking in need. His mouth opened to allow you in.

One. Two. Three additional thrusts of his fingers and he felt you tighten around him. A wave of immense pleasure washed over your body in bliss. Arching into him, Johnny held onto you tightly, never once letting you fall apart without him.

You could hear him whisper words of praise in your ear except nothing but a kaleidoscope of colors seemed to match the tremors of your lower body. Legs shaking, toes curled as one leg wrapped around his own waist and laid lax once the shaking subsided.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. He retracted the two fingers. Resting them on your thigh, he patted the skin there. “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

Johnny laid his forehead against yours and let you breathe before his mouth couldn’t help but run again.

“I would have called you a good girl but I think sweetheart is the only nickname you can take right now.”

You opened your eyes and met his glinting with amusement. Did you want to take back everything u out said? Pretend this never happened and go find someone who can keep a moment serious for longer than a minute?

“You are—“ the words couldn’t form. There were too many words to describe Johnny Storm and even a journalist as great as yourself couldn’t come up with one.

The next morning you were at the office bright and early. No article had been prepared, no pictures of Johnny in his space, and nothing to report to Lucy.

Your mind was racing, however.

When you unlocked the door to your apartment later that night, you did so with a smile plastered to your face. You felt like a school girl with her first crush. Johnny enamored you and left you feeling like jell-o and your limbs acting on their own accord was proof of it.

But you had to keep a lid on it. So, when you sat down at your desk and flipped on the light to wait for the inevitable, you pretended you weren’t hopelessly crushing on the hot-headed hero.

An hour after you settled in, Lucy rushed to your desk to gossip. Her eyes were wide, expectant for you to spill all of the details of what makes Johnny tick. Every secret you gathered from the contents of his bathroom cabinet to the food he liked to eat, she wanted to know.

“So?” She said incredibly fast. “How was it? Where is it?” The draft.

“I don’t have it.” You preoccupied yourself by typing out a different article. The keys on your typewriter filled the space of her mouth hanging wide open in confusion.

“What do you mean you don’t have it?”

“I didn’t it write it,” you clarified. “It’s not happening.”

“We—“ she started and stopped in a stutter. “What, well… what happened? Did you even go??”

“Of course I went.” The page reached its end with a ring and you shot it back to the opposite side. “I just don’t have the story for you. I’m not going to write it so ask someone else.”

Lucy watched you carefully. “Please tell me you didn’t make our paper look bad.”

“Oh just awful,” you drawled. “I think we’re banned from ever covering them.”

She didn’t catch the tone. Lucy had been so preoccupied with wanting a big, newsworthy feature that she didn’t think of anything else. She joked about you falling into bed with him but figured you were too much of a straightened arrow to try it.

You didn’t have a hickey, you weren’t sweating at the temple, or drinking the largest coffee. In fact, you didn’t even have a coffee.

“Did you…” she trailed off, neck jutting out in curiosity.

Before you could look her in the eyes and lie, a delivery man with a bouquet of flowers was making a b-line to your desk caught your eye.

Shit. So much for discreet.

He said your name aloud and held up the flowers as if you didn’t see them. They were magnificent. A collection of winter favorites perfectly curated in a massive bouquet.

“I have a delivery.”

“From?” Lucy asked bewildered.

“There’s a card,” he informed. The man set the flowers on your desk and you stood, straightening out your blouse as you plucked the card from the small spokes elevating it above the petals.

“Who’s it from?” Lucy pressed.

“Geez,” you mumbled. “Care to give me a minute or would you rather just read it yourself?”

“Go ahead,” she motioned.

You slipped the card from the envelope and slid it out. In personal handwriting, a short message relayed a simple message without a signature.

You couldn’t fight the grin this time. It filled your face with a joyous, girlish glow and Lucy smacked her hand on the surface of the desk.

“Holy shit!”

And holy, flaming fucking shit indeed.

Saturday, 9 AM. My shop. Wear something nice, it’s a date.

And you knew right where to go.

A/N: a Joe Quinn character breaking me out of a writing slump? 2022 me is not surprised. His Johnny is *chef’s kiss* and I love him, your honor.

P.S. all writers love to hear from readers and it’s the one thing I love more than anything. Thank you for taking the time to read this!

Liked this one? Here’s another Johnny fic!

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that-one-girl2020 · 2 months ago

Text

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 6

A/N: Y’all are not ready for this. And yes, there will be another part after this. I’ve also been getting a few requests for little side skits so I’ll do those as soon as I wrap up the series itself so please be patient with me if I haven’t responded!

I tried really hard on this part so please tell me your thoughts in the comments!

Disclaimer: I don’t any of the songs or anything in this series.

TW: Death, heartbreak, grief, etc. toxic parental figures.

Edit (7/11/25): Please do not steal or plagiarize my work, I worked hard on this series and have a lot of pride in it.

Word Count: 4,987

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 7

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

The time had come.

The Saja Boys’ final performance.

Just one more performance and then they could spend the rest of their existence with you.

For now, they were on the other side of the crumbling barrier, standing before Gwi Ma as they watched the space fill with people carrying the red glow of their light sticks. You were there too. A succubus among humans, beautiful having fully accepted your demon side. You were quickly coming into your new abilities, having teleported there with them and now floating above the stands, over the heads in the hypnotized crowd directly across from the stage. The best view in the house. Even from there, they could see the warm amber glow of your eyes.

They were worried about you, of course. But selfish beings could only ignore the call of their desired one for so long. You had chosen to join them, to love them. Flaws and all. And that was the sweetest addiction of all. So they would follow wherever you beckoned and they would protect you and love you with the entirety of the wretched tatters that remained of their souls.

Just for you, they had decided to perform this last song in their demon forms, forgoing their human guises.

“Well done. Ready to forget it all?” Gwi Ma’s voice rumbled as he looked hungrily out at the crowd of fans gathering in place for the performance.

Jinu looked over them as well, memories of the moment he left his mother and sister behind flashing in his mind and then Rumi, their moment of peace found within their friendship, and then you. The soft moments together of you two beneath the stars, you sharing modern music with him. Your face in joy. And then your face in despair. The face when you joined them. His expression steeled. He would do this for you. He didn’t care if Gwi Ma went through with the deal or not anymore.

“Good,” Gwi Ma purred. “Glad that girl is useful for something. And she’ll be singing with you, correct? Perfect. I’m ready to feast.”

The Boys grimaced, their fists tightening at the way the tyrant talked about you. But they all agreed on one thing.

They would do this for you. To protect you.

The Saja Boys had tried to change your mind when you said you would be helping with their final performance, it was a huge jump to go from just letting them feed Gwi Ma all these souls, to actively being a part in feeding them to him yourself.

But you had remained stubborn. “I refuse to be a passive supporter any longer. From now on, I’ll make my own path. Even if it leads me to Hell,” You had said with a sweet, content smile. So they agreed. And incorporated you into their performance with the ease of elite professionals.

Derpy the tiger mewled, nudging Jinu’s arm with the bracelet from Rumi offered in his mouth, shaking Jinu from his thoughts. But Jinu hesitated in taking it. Rumi had been his… friend. But he betrayed her. And she had turned her back on you, the girl he had grown to love. Jinu’s fist clenched.

It was an odd feeling, sitting as you floated in the air, the repeated monotonous chanting of ‘Saja. Saja. Saja,’ sounding below you over and over again. And it was strange seeing your reflection whenever you passed it. Your skin had taken on a dark lilac hue, the electric magenta glow of your patterns contrasting sharply. Your eyes glowed an amber, your pupils slit like a cat’s. Your fingers had lengthened, your nails grown into claws, and even your teeth had sharpened. But you kinda liked it. It was badass in a way.

Your mind lingered on them. Mira, Zoey, Celine, and… Rumi. Yes, they had left you. Turned their backs on you. But… you had loved them for so long. For years, they were your entire world, taking care of them and watching them grow. It would be hard to let them go from your heart.

However, that didn’t mean you would save Mira and Zoey from being part of this crowd.

It would be hard to let them go from your heart, but you wouldn’t forgive them.

You perk up when the Saja Boys logo flickers on screen, the image of Jinu’s demon eyes flashing for a brief second before the logo returns, the crowd coming alive with raucous cheers as a haunting tune begins, the boys rising to the stage. The boys floated, solemn looks on their faces as the song began. You were immediately enraptured just by the presence of them.

“I'll be your idol~”

The boys burst into motion, landing on the stage with their movements hypnotizing and magnetic.

“Keeping you in check (Uh), keeping you obsessed (Uh)~ Play me on repeat, endlessly in your head~ Anytime it hurts (Uh), play another verse (Uh)~ I can be your sanctuary~” Kwan opened strongly, drawing the crowd in with his movements and his charm easily. His eyes were on your figure floating above though, peering up at you from below the brim of his hat.

“Know I'm the only one right now (Now)~ I will love you more when it all burns down~ More than power, more than gold (Yeah)~ Yeah, you gave me your heart, now I'm hеre for your soul~” Chungae and Hyeon joined in, putting their all in this performance because you were watching. Their first and last performance with you. But, hopefully, not the last time they would sing with you.

You were so drawn in that you couldn’t even sway along to the song. You knew this song was meant to gather souls for Gwi Ma, layered with layer after layer of demon charm and hypnotism. But, it feels like they’re singing just for you.

“I'm the only one who'll lovе your sins~ Feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin~”

Maybe it's because they are.

“Listen 'cause I'm preachin' to the choir~ Can I get the mic a little higher?~ Gimme your desire~ I can be the star you rely on (You rely on)~ You're lost in my daze, yeah, you can't look away (Hey)~ Don't you know I'm here to save you~ Now we runnin' wild~ Yeah, I'm all you need, I'ma be your idol~”

The boys’ eyes glowed at you as they danced and sang. Their focus was on you the whole time. This last song was for you, not a message directly to you, but it was all for you. You were entranced, not by their demonic charm and hypnotism, but by them. The way they moved, the way their expressions drew you in.

The boys teleported in a burst of demon magic, reappearing in different places on the stage walkway. Gwi Ma appeared behind them, beginning to come through the barrier.

“Uh, shining with my fame, keep on shout my name, I'm your idol~ Thank you for the pain 'cause it got me going viral~ Uh, yeah, endless is my fever, makin' you a believer~ I was born for you, only your idol~” Jum rapped to the crowd of charmed fans, but his thoughts were completely on you. He couldn’t help but love performing, something he hadn’t expected when Jinu came to him with his plan. But it led him to all these new experiences and it led him to you. These words were meant for the fans but this performance was for you. Gwi Ma’s fires flared around them as more and more of him came through until he fully manifested behind them.

“Don't let it show, keep it all inside~ The pain and the shame, keep it outta sight~ Your obsession feeds our connection~ So right now give me all your attention~”

Then the lights of the stage and the light sticks went out, even the screen with the Saja Boys’ logo on it. The only light being the fires of Gwi Ma. The song abruptly cut off with a glitch effect. And then a new song sounded.

Your cue.

You teleported on stage as the first line of the song left your lips in a haunting melody, your voice enhanced by the demon charm you layered over it.

“Insane, inside~ The danger gets me high~ Can't help myself~ Got secrets I can't tell~” The boys teleported around you, moving and sweeping around you in a circle as you sang, striding forward towards the crowd with confidence you didn’t know you had. The crowd was cheering even more enthusiastically at the surprise voice of a female voice, one they had never heard before.

“I love the smell of gasoline~ I light the match to taste the heat~” The six of you spread out to different points of the stage, reaching enticingly to the crowd with sweet smiles.

“I've always liked to play with fire~”

As the beat dropped, it shifted back to ‘Your Idol’ but you sang with the boys this time as you all beckoned the crowd forward.

“Living in your mind now~ Too late ‘cause you’re mine now~ I will make you free~ When you’re all a part of me~”

The six of you teleported back onto the stage. You floated up first, the boys following you up as you harmonized with the boys. Looking down, it was a crowd of faceless figures bathed in red, drawn in by Gwi Ma’s flames and you guess… yours and the boy’s demonic powers. Why was it so easy? These people were mindlessly marching to their deaths and you couldn’t find yourself feeling terribly guilty. Maybe later you will, when the hurt and the anger at them will fade, but right now? Your heart was cold to these people.

“(Listen 'cause I'm) Preaching to the choir~ (Now) Can I get the mic a little higher? (Play with fire)~ Gimme your desire~ Watch me set your world on fire (Play with fire)~ You're lost in my daze, yeah, you can't look away (Hey)~ No one is coming to save you~ Now we runnin' wild~ You're down on your knees, I'ma be your idol (Play with fire)~”

Everyone stopped. You, the boys, the people all stopped as the music cut out and the sound of a voice came from the back entrance to the stands. The crowd began to part.

“We are Hunters. Voices strong.” You frowned as Rumi came into view. The boys and you slowly descended, landing on the stage with Gwi Ma at your backs. The boys closed ranks around you, protective of you and weary of the demon Huntress. You narrowed your eyes at Rumi, scanning over her form. She looked just as bad as when you had last seen her but her face was blank, numb.

“Slaying demons with our song. Fix the world and make it right. When darkness finally meets the light.”

“You come here like this?” Gwi Ma mockingly questioned your sister. “You think you can fix the world? You can’t even fix yourself.”

“I can’t.”

“And now everyone finally sees you for what you really are.”

“They do.”

“And the Honmoon. Is. Gone.”

“It is.” Even from all the way up on the stage, you could see Rumi’s eyes change as she looked up at Gwi Ma sharply, her amber eye disappearing. “So that we can make a new one.”

~~~

Rumi had many regrets in her life.

She wasn’t perfect, she always knew that. But the golden image of perfection in her mind that she had always strived for was nothing but a pretty illusion. And when the illusion broke, she had hurt you. You, her precious twin sister. The sister that all she wanted to do was protect.

After her talk with Celine, Rumi had to face the hard truth that Celine had poisoned their minds. You and her used to be so close but when did that stop? She had to ask herself what happened to the times when you would laugh together over the stupidest little things? The times you would try to cook together only to end up chasing each other around the kitchen with food stained hands? The times when your giggles would fill the grassy clearing in the forest, your secret spot just between the two of you?

And Rumi knew it was her fault. She didn’t protect you like she should’ve, protected you from Celine’s harsh demands and her shoving the two of you into too tight molds of their parents.

And now there you were. The image of their father come to life, standing before Gwi Ma, your back to his flames as the Saja Boys stood on guard in front of you. You looked demonic, with dark lilac skin, clawed hands, black clothing, and the glowing amber eyes she could see from there. But you were beautiful. You were standing with a confidence she had never seen in you—or perhaps never noticed you had. And you had sung. She hasn’t heard you sing in years and she didn’t realize how much she missed it until she heard your voice again.

Rumi swore she would protect you. She had already broken that promise. But she would hold what remains of that promise in her weary hands with all her strength.

Although, first? She would need her girls.

“Nothing but the truth now~ Nothing but the proof of what I am~ The worst of what I came from, patterns I'm ashamed of~ Things that even I don't understand~ I tried to fix it, I tried to fight it~ My head was twisted, my heart divided~ My lies all collided~ I don't know why I didn't trust you to be on my side~”

You watched blankly as Rumi walked forward, her patterns beginning to glow in a rainbow iridescence as it spread up her legs and to her arms and face. You couldn’t help but think it was just like Rumi for her to take her flaws and make them pretty.

Looking to each side of the arena, you could see Mira and Zoey making their ways down to the stage, their chests glowing blue faintly. It seemed like Rumi’s voice had reached them. ‘It was a song for them, after all,’ you couldn’t help but think bitterly, your fist clenching.

“I broke into a million pieces, and I can't go back~ But now I'm seeing all the beauty in the broken glass~ The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony~ My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like~”

Zoey joined the song as she reached the stage, “Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head?~”

Mira reached the stage as well. “I should've let the jagged edges meet the light instead~”

Together, they sang their song of hope, “Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony~ The song we couldn't write, this is what it sounds like~”

The three were glowing. This must be what it looks like for their souls to connect to their song. You had never seen it before.

But Gwi Ma had.

“Stop this song!” He roared behind you. He summoned a hoard of demons, flooding the stage in three directions as they charged at the girls to try and keep them from singing.

You knew the power of the girls and their voices. You knew as soon as Rumi started singing that this was a losing battle. Which meant that they would more than likely end up killing you here, with the boys…

“We're shattering the silence, we're rising defiant~ Shouting in the quiet, you're not alone~ We listened to the demons, we let them get between us~ But none of us are out here on our own~ So, we were cowards, so, we were liars~ So, we're not heroes, we're still survivors~ The dreamers, the fighters, no lying, I'm tired~ But dive in the fire and I'll be right here by your side~”

The girls embraced as they finally reunited after getting through the hoards trying to keep them apart. It sent a wave of light out over the crowd, beginning to form a new Honmoon as Mira and Zoey’s once black accents on their outfit turned to pure white. You couldn’t help but feel bitter. Rumi had come for Mira and Zoey. And the lyrics they were singing? It felt like a kick in the chest.

But they were right in a way. You weren’t alone. You had the boys. Rumi and you were both exactly where you belong at that moment.

“We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back~ But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass~ The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony~ My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like~”

The girls turned and marched steadily towards you and the boys. A shiver of fear went up your spine, waiting for them to summon their weapons so they could kill you and the boys. But they didn’t.

‘I’m sorry, (Y/n). Please. Hear me,’ Rumi mentally pleaded, her eyes on yours as she marched towards you, Zoey and Mira at her sides.

‘Please come back to us, (Y/n). I’m so sorry we… I didn’t stand with you,’ Zoey smiled at you, soft and apologetic. The pit of guilt in her stomach that had formed as soon as she had chosen to follow Mira instead of trying to listen to you pulsing in her chest alongside her soul.

‘It’ll be hard but… we love you. Please come back,’ Mira marched with determination. ‘They’ll share the patterns together.’ The iridescent patterns on their purified clothes glimmered in the light the same as Rumi’s.

‘Protect (Y/n),’ was the only thought in the Boys’ heads. They couldn’t shake the memory of you crying in their arms. You had said that they threatened to kill you if they saw you again. Their hearts shuddered in their chest at the thought of you dying with them. No. They refused to let it happen, they promised you that they wouldn’t leave you and they promised themselves that they would protect you.

Kwan, Jum, Chungae, and Hyeon charged forward, leaving Jinu with you to stay back and protect you as they faced the girls who summoned their weapons.

“Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head?~ Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead~ Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony~ Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like~”

Despite Rumi’s determination to reach you, Gwi Ma interrupted her, summoning the horde of demons back to him to boost his power as he grew in size, gaining enough energy to manifest more of his features. It startled the girls, distracting them as they held Hyeon, Chungae, Kwan, and Jum back.

“Your voices cannot defeat ME!”

Gwi Ma roared, sending a blast of power from his mouth at Rumi. Your eyes widened as Rumi stumbled under the force of Gwi Ma’s blast, straining under the weight on her sword. Mira and Zoey cried out for her but couldn’t reach her as the Boys held them back.

Your heart was pounding as Rumi screamed, trying to muster all the strength she could to hold Gwi Ma back. But she could only buckle under the force, falling to her knee. You unconsciously took a step forward. Would you really be able to watch your sister die?

‘Why?’ Rumi questioned herself. ‘Why am I never strong enough?!’

She stumbled when the force against her sword suddenly disappeared. She blinked, looking up.

‘No…’

Your human eyes looked back at her.

You hadn’t even registered moving. You couldn’t even remember if you had teleported or used your demon abilities to fly. But it didn’t matter. You were there now, holding back Gwi Ma’s power with your own body. Protecting Rumi.

“(Y/n), no…” Rumi’s voice cracked as she stood, her hands hovering uselessly by your shoulders. ‘What could she do? Why wasn’t there anything she could do?!’

‘Guess old habits die hard…’ You thought to yourself. You smiled sadly at your sister as her eyes welled with tears, despair in her eyes. But also guilt and regret.

“I’m still angry at you, y’know,” You told her softly.

“I know. I know…” Rumi cried, her voice wobbling. “I’m so sorry, (Y/n), I never should have turned my back on you. I never should have left you behind! I just… I wanted to protect you…”

“I know. I wanted to protect you too,” You told her. You could feel your skin flaking away into ash, the heat of Gwi Ma’s power eating through you slowly and yet all at once. It hurt. But you still had things you needed to say. “I’m still angry at you, but I’ll always love you, Rumi. After all, you’re the other half of my soul, remember?”

Yeah. She did remember. She closed her eyes, pressing your foreheads together as she remembered. Her tears wet your faces as she felt you fading away.

When the two of you were little, you would dance in by the ancient tree. Perfectly in sync with childish giggles in the air and happiness in your souls.

“You’ll always be the other half of my soul, (Y/n),” She had promised.

“And you’ll always be the other half of mine, Rumi!”

Nights spent under the stars, trying to find shapes and wishing on the shooting stars that streaked across the night. Celine would come scold the both of you for staying up so late but the two of you hadn’t cared.

“We are Hunters, voices strong~ Slaying demons with our song~ Save the world and make it right~ When darkness finally meets the light~” The two of you would sing together, your voices fading together.

She remembered when you had proudly showed her your first attempts at writing a song. The two of you had spent a week finishing it together to show Celine, who had politely clapped over it before dismissing you.

You at her side when the two of you first met Mira and Zoey.

You staying up for several nights in a row just to get their debut outfits just right, making sure every detail matched their personalities, were comfortable for them to wear, made them feel confident and strong.

You in the wings with Bobby or backstage during every single one of their performances.

You cooking their favorite foods for their birthdays, making sure to make the cake their favorite flavor from scratch.

You helping them to their beds when they spent hours into the night working on a song when inspiration struck.

Your voice when you were happy, when you were frustrated, when you were giddy, when you were tired, when you were comforting her.

“You’re gonna do great. You’ve got this.”

Your face when she had hit you and then left you behind without a second glance, numb to your cries.

Your smile.

Your laugh.

Your anger.

Your joy.

You.

And then you disappeared beneath her touch and all that was left was your soul. Rumi choked back sobs as the orb circled around her, humming in a way that reminded her of childish giggles and little voices singing in a clearing. “I love you too…” She wanted to fall to her knees right there and start sobbing, grieving her sister. But she couldn’t because she wouldn’t let your death… be in vain.

Rumi summoned her sword but it was different this time, heavier and yet lighter all at once. It was bigger than it had been and she could feel your soul humming through it. The two of you were always stronger together, that’s how it was meant to be…

The Saja Boys’ chest felt like a gaping maw as Gwi Ma roared, Rumi cutting through him with your sword. This was unlike any pain they had ever felt before in their centuries of existing. Were they even still alive? Was this death? Was this agony? Was this hell?

Jinu fell to his knees, his hand falling from its raised position, kneeling defeatedly halfway between Gwi Ma and where you had once stood. Biting his lip, not caring as it began to bleed, tears welling in his eyes.

Chungae stumbled, his hands to his chest as if he was trying to hold his heart together without all the pieces. His mouth was agape as if a name stood on the tip of his tongue but his lungs couldn’t give them the air to cry out.

Hyeon stood frozen, his arms limp at his sides. He stood like a gaping wound, succumbing to its fatalities. He was open and vulnerable to an attack but he didn’t care. He stood like a puppet waiting for its strings to be cut. Giving up on living.

Jum took a staggering step toward where you once stood and faltered. He didn’t want to believe his eyes, wanting to go to that spot right there to make sure you weren’t really gone. But he didn’t want to see if you really were either. A single tear trailed down his cheek, leading the way for the others to follow.

Kwan faltered, tripping over his feet and landing on the ground. He pulled his fist back and struck the stage with all his strength, leaving a small crater where he hit but the pain was nothing in comparison to the pain in his chest. He hadn’t been fast enough to help you. Stuck in a stalemate with one of the Hunters, neither letting the other get away from the fight. He cursed as he lowered his head.

Mira shuddered, turning her head away to swallow back her grief. She cursed fate for never letting her have the family she wanted. For letting her build this little family with her own two hands only to keep taking pieces away from her. You were her sister. There would be time for grief later.

Zoey’s arms went limp by her sides, the grip on her knives slackening until they faded away in her shock. She couldn’t process what had just happened. They were going to save you. They were going to apologize and talk it out so everything would eventually be okay again. She wanted to give up. Go back to the days where you would listen to her lyric ideas, always listening to every line no matter how odd or strange. Please.

The Saja Boys and the girls were almost swallowed whole by grief and despair. But the girls still had a job to do.

Mira and Zoey turned to the boys, their glares watery as they readied their weapons. They were intent on finishing their fights quickly so they could go support Rumi.

The boys looked at each other.

They would follow where you beckoned.

The girls were shocked when the boys made no move to attack them. Instead, they seemed to… surrender. Their heads bowed and they closed their eyes. Maybe it was their grief, their heart’s having broken, or their love for you, but… Before the girl’s eyes, the boys began fading away into ash.

One by one, they faded away with acceptance. They faded until all that was left was five aching souls, battered and broken, but whole. And they followed where you led. They danced around Mira and Zoey who watched in shock as the souls raced toward Rumi to circle around her sword trailing behind her.

Their souls led the way as the crowd joined in their song of hope and acceptance, their souls empowering the girls as they raced after Rumi, letting them run faster and faster than they ever had before as all the colors of the rainbow danced around them. The power of all the souls connecting with them were enough to lift the girls off their feet as they continued the song with determination.

“We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back~ But now I'm seeing all the beauty in the broken glass~ The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony~ My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like~ Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head?~ Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead~ Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony~ Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like~”

The girls came together before Gwi Ma, soul energy dancing around them endlessly as Rumi held your sword out and the girls held the offered hilt together. They could feel your soul humming through them, and they closed their eyes. They felt all the souls connecting with their song, connecting with each other and with a flare of light, Gwi Ma was banished and the rainbow Honmoon was sealed.

“My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like~ Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like~ Truth after all this time, our voices all combined~ When darkness meets the light, this is what it sounds like~”

The girls looked out over the world that they had saved. That you had saved. The crowd was cheering, the sky was clear and bright as the rising sun finally shone over them. The rainbow Honmoon pulsed with power. They descended, gently landing on stage. Mira and Zoey released the hilt of your sword, letting Rumi hold the sword gently by its hilt and the blade. She could see her tearful eyes reflecting back at her as her grief filled her heart. For a moment as the sun glinted across the blade, she thought she saw your human eyes reflected back at her, surrounded by five other pairs of eyes.

She held the sword close to her chest, falling to her knees before the crowd of cheering fans who were none-the-wiser. The fight was over.

And you were still gone.

Outtakes:

You: *Looking at your new demon form* “Wow. How snazzy.”

The Saja Boys: *Drooling over you* “Yeah…”

…

You: “Why don’t you just make another hat for Derpy so he and Sussie can match?”

Jinu: *Shook like you just gave him the answers to the universe*

…

Rumi: “(Y/n)! I’m here to protect you!”

The Saja Boys: “Thank you for your services, but you are no longer needed.”

…

The Saja Boys: “We have only known (Y/n) for a day but if anything happened to her, we would kill everyone in this room and then ourselves.

*Five parts later*

The Saja Boys: “…”

…

Let me know if you have ideas for outtakes or side skits! And think about checking out the playlist I made for this little series!

Tag list: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374 @esposamultifandom

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lvmimis · 10 months ago

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"You follow her around like a dog, man," Sero says finally, and even if the surrounding ballroom chatter doesn't cease for a moment as the table set for ten starts to receive their first course salads, the parallel conversations among the group of old friends halt abruptly to a stop. Eijiro gives Sero a raise of the eyebrow, then turns to Katsuki, expecting to have to mitigate his hot temper.

The latter clearly has heard the jeer, but he's not the same as perhaps a decade ago, where any one of Sero's teasing comments could have set him off. Glancing back for a second in the direction where you left just moments ago to go to the bathroom, followed by most of the other women at the table, he then turns to look directly at Sero.

"Yeah, that's love, right?" he says, calmly.

Kirishima blinks for a moment, incredulous, then exchanges a look with Kaminari beside him.

Katsuki, as if he hasn't said something highly uncharacteristic of himself, reaches for a bread roll in the middle of the table and then a butter knife.

"You didn't see me follow her into the bathroom, did you?" he adds. Sero snorts, but leans back into his chair.

"I mean no, but-"

Katsuki smears butter on the roll, and sets it on your empty plate, then takes another piece of bread to and butters it the same before taking a bite.

"But what?" he asks. The edge to his voice is back, something that paradoxically puts Sero back at ease.

"It looks strange on you," Denki finally points out.

Katsuki chews for a moment, then swallows, his eyes making a quick scan across the room. At another table, Midoriya's partner is focused on adjusting the lapel of his suit, and at yet another table, Iida is trying to convince Mei to keep her gadgets off the table before the MC starts another toast.

The bride and groom continue to cruise around the venue, and Katsuki cannot stop thinking about how beautiful you would look in that exact dress.

Or something of your own.

"I just can't imagine what the fuck she did-" Sero starts again before Eijiro cuts him off.

"Just knock it off for a second," he says, gently but assertively. Katsuki doesn't pay any mind to him as he observes the table favors.

These flowers are beautiful, but they aren't your favorite. They're gorgeous, but made of plastic while you'd prefer hundreds of real ones.

You've told him small weddings feel more intimate. This wedding isn't in the right season for you, but it's your second choice. You don't yet know how many people will be in the bridal party but you've floated some ideas.

You don't yet have a ring on your finger.

The many thoughts dissipate when your hand rests gently on his shoulder as you slip back into the seat next to him.

"Oh, they didn't bring out the food yet," you say, and Katsuki points to the bread on your plate, reminding you to eat.

His friends are captive audiences as you smile and take a bite, and perhaps horrified as he smiles back warmly, genuinely.

Love does look strange on him, perhaps.

But they'll have to get used to it because it will not go away.

#katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #mimi's notes #daydreams: bnha

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casuallyanidiot · 4 months ago

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Yandere Vlogger who gains a following by stalking you.

TW. DDNE ! MDNI ! Stalking, Implied NonCon, Voyeurism, Kidnapping

Sequel here

It started out with a few, weird videos that barely got any views.

He had a shaky camera, and he'd rarely ever talk. In fact, he didn't even show you in the beginning. It was more of videos he took walking in random places without showing his face. Honestly, it looked like he hadn't intended for anyone but himself to see the uploads, yet somehow they ended up floating across the feeds of some people.

| What is this even about lol | This is kind of strange... | What are you doing?

He was surprised to get any comments at all, but the last one especially jumped out at him. Any rational person wouldn't talk about how they'd been secretly following the love of their life to some random stranger, but he was far from rational.

Instead of replying in the comments, he made another video.

Why I Do This

" It's because I love her, and I want to make sure she's safe," he said with a shrug. The camera was propped up on a cafe table, and his face was clearly in view. Well groomed, handsome, young... he certainly didn't seem the type to be a deranged lunatic. "Besides, I like the thought that one day she'll see this and know how much I care." After he spoke, the footage was cut with a shot of his shoes slapping against pavement, wandering in some unknown location.

That one got quite a bit of views. Hundreds this time, out of seemingly nowhere.

| Woah is this guy for Real? | No way is he serious, this is probably just some project or some shit. | Lol who cares if it's real, it's kind of interesting | I wish I had a boyfriend like that | You should show us your partner lmao

The videos would come every other day or so now. There seemed to be a bit more editing involved, and the few glimpses of you that the audience got became like a fun guessing game.

"I never expected anyone to be interested in this," he admitted, this time more quietly in a library study area. " I thought people would think that this whole thing is weird, but there are, what? A thousand of you now? So strange... and here I thought I was the weird one," He chuckled and brushed his hair back gently. Just out of sight in the camera was your seated form, working diligently on an assignment. If only you knew how much he cared. Not only that, if only you knew how many people thought he was cool for loving you the way he did.

| Guys I'm starting to get kind of freaked out. Is the person getting stalked okay? | Nah, it's not real. No way. If he was for real he wouldn't be showing his face | Woah the quality has gone up so much! The sneaking into the house portion of the videos are always so creepy and realistic! Keep up the good work! | You should go into acting man | Our beloved stalker is getting pretty bold lol. I wonder how this series will end lol

Sure enough, he started having more fun making the videos. He invested in a higher quality camera, and he started to become more and more obsessed with not only following you, but documenting the whole thing. He invested in a new camera and bought new editing software. Plus, with the ad revenue he was getting from his growing viewers, he could afford to buy trackers and other things...

"Thanks to you guys, I've finally got enough to bring them home," he practically beamed as he stared into the black lens. He was hidden in a bush, the glow of your house lights illuminating his face. He held up a bundle of ropes and some cuffs. "I really couldn't have done this without your support. I'm really grateful. I might have to lay low for a while after this... but hopefully I'll be putting out some more videos about getting them settled in their new home. Again, thanks for everything."

When a missing persons alert was put out for you, hardly anyone paid any attention. His viewers didn't know your name, and he was smart enough to hide your face, so no one suspected a thing. Soon enough, you were a forgotten statistic to everyone but him.

| Woah new video! | The new set looks great! | They're acting is so realistic lol. It gives me chills. | Hey don't they kinda look like that one person...? | I'm glad to see how this series progressed lol, the stalking was getting kind of boring

"They love you," he hummed as he scrolled through the comments, the screen lighting up the darkened room. You were bound in his lap, whimpering, blindfolded and gagged as he rubbed soothing circles into your hip. "Not as much as I can, but I told you everyone was rooting for us to get together," He smiled and planted a kiss to the crown of your head.

He then stood up, carrying you in his strong arms before laying you down on his bed. He switched on the lighting and turned on the various cameras he had set up to catch your expressions from every angle. His voice was sickeningly sweet as he got you tied down and ready, his eyes flashing with barely contained obsession. "Now... some people have been asking for more... exclusive content. I think it's only fair we let them see... I wouldn't have you if it wasn't for them after all. Be good for me okay?"

#my writing #yandere x reader #yandere #tw yandere #yandere male #x reader #yandere x you #yandere concept #yandere boy #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere stalker #tw stalking

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xoxojisu · 6 months ago

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"WE'RE NOT DATING!"

synopsis: the 1a girls have a lot to say about you and katsuki's not-relationship.

a/n: hahahaha more pre-relationship just friends trope (do not tell me i do this trope too much it brings me joy) also a lot of people asked for a pt two to my unofficalbf!katsuki hcs and this isnt quiiiite that bc there's not a whole lotta interaction w katsuki but uhm its smth. i have more wips abt this tho so theres a LOTTT more where that came from!

"even if we don't talk about anything important, i want to force it to be about romance!" mina exclaimed as ochako floated off in embarrassment at being questioned about deku.

"oh! speaking of! how long have you and bakugo been dating, y/n?"

you froze. "huh?"

"i don't know how you handle him! you're so sweet and cute and he's all 'die! go to hell! i am the king explosion murder lord!' y'know?" she added.

"he's not really like that with her, though. he's always a lot quieter she's around. you can see the way his eyes soften." tsu commented thoughtfully.

they all stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to answer the question, and you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks. "uh.. katsuki and i.. aren't dating?"

a beat passed. then another.

"WHAT?!"

"no way! i thought you two were dating for sure! he's always holding your hand and grabbing at you and acting all soft with you! wait, i literally saw him carry you to his room! how are you not dating?" hagakure burst out.

"yeah! and during our movie night last week, you were laying your head on his shoulder and he had his arms around you!" mina chimed in. "we all just assumed you two were dating like a given! what do you mean, 'you're not dating?!'"

"i mean, we're not dating! we're close friends, sure, but katsuki's never, like, asked me to be his girlfriend or anything! we're just tight childhood friends, that's all! he probably thinks of me as a little sister with the way he looks out for me, or something." you explained, waving your hands in the air frantically.

"y/n, i love you, but you're being as stupid as kaminari! no boy, but especially not bakugo, would ever act like that with a girl he wasn't interested in." jirou sighed. "there really isn't such thing as 'platonic cuddling' or 'platonic handholding' between boys and girls."

"well, it's normal for kids, you know? and katsuki and i grew up together, so it just kinda stuck!" you said, making a noble attempt at justifying you and katsuki's we-are-definitely-not-just-friends behavior. they all looked at you unamused.

the girls continued to bombard you with questions, each one getting bolder than the last.

"seriously, though, y/n," mina said, her grin wide, "how do you keep it together around him? you two are always so… cozy."

"cozy?" you blinked, trying to avoid their intense stares. "what do you mean 'cozy'?"

"oh, come on," she teased, nudging you. "you hold hands, sit waaaay too close, and don’t even get me started on the whole ‘sleeping on and cuddling with him’ thing. also, i swear i saw him give you a kiss on the forehead!"

"i mean, that’s just how we are!" you said, exasperated. "we’ve been friends forever! it’s not a big deal!"

jirou raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "i don’t know, y/n. most guys don’t carry their girl friends to their rooms when they’re tired."

you froze. the memories flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. "i told you, he was just being—"

"overprotective?" yaomomo interrupted, practically reading your mind. "yeah, that’s what we thought, too. but i don’t know, seems a little… extra for a friend."

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “this is ridiculous. we’re not dating! he’s not like that with me.”

they all stared at you for a long moment, clearly unconvinced, when suddenly, the door to the room swung open.

katsuki stood in the doorway, his signature scowl immediately visible, with kirishima and kaminari not far behind. "..what the hell are you all looking like that at me for? you got a problem?"

the girls didn’t miss a beat. mina jumped up, eyes practically sparkling. "we were just discussing how you and a certain girl over here are totally a secret item!"

you froze. oh no.

katsuki's eyes widened then narrowed as he stared at her, his eyes a mixture of grumpiness and fluster. "the hell?" was all he said.

“you’re always carrying her, holding hands, and let’s not forget you cuddling with her sleeping on you during that movie last week. with how comfortable you guys were with it, i'll bet it was far from the first time you guys have done stuff like that, too! you two are practically made for each other!”

katsuki glared at her, his fists clenching. "i don’t give a shit what you idiots think." his voice was sharp, dismissive, and he turned his gaze toward you for a moment, his usual annoyance evident.

you let out a nervous laugh, relieved that he wasn’t actually acknowledging any of the weird feelings the group was pushing on you two.

the girls looked between you and katsuki, still skeptical, but he wasn’t having it. he gave a quick, sharp glare to the group before glancing back at you. you failed to see the way his sharp glare softened ever-so-slightly when he did so.

“you’re all so damn nosy,” he muttered, turning to leave. "get a life."

he marched off grumpily, kirishima and kaminari now excitedly talking to him about assumedly the same topic. he slammed the door in their faces, but they were quick to scramble after him.

you let out a sigh of relief once they left, but before you could even speak, mina burst into laughter. "there it is! classic bakugo. totally in denial!"

"totally!" ochako giggled.

"mhm!" hagakure agreed.

"ugh," you groaned, face in your hands. "please just drop it already!"

the girls kept their grins, but the teasing finally slowed down. "alright, alright," mina said with a wink. "we’ll let you off the hook for now."

you exhaled in relief as the group slowly started to branch off into different topics, the heat finally off of you. you excused yourself for some water so you could get some air, and began heading back to the dorm rooms.

to your surprise, katsuki was already waiting for you outside the common area. when he saw you, he gave you a gruff nod of acknowledgement.

"kats! i thought you were going to bed!" you chirped, unaware of how your demeanor instantly brightened when it was just the two of you.

"i am," was all he offered before grabbing your hand and dragging you to presumably his dorm room to cuddle and hangout.

as you rambled and chatted with katsuki, hand-in-hand, on your way to hang out in his dorm alone, the words of your friends came back to you, causing a pink hue to rise to your cheeks.

..yeah. you two were definitely not "just friends."

#jisu writes!#erm this is lowk trash and i hate it what if i kms #dw guys i have better wips trust #tbh this is more 1a girls shenanigans than katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki #katsuki fluff #katsuki x reader #mha fluff #mha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #i love him #unofficialbf!katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff

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baepsays · 2 months ago

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INSATIABLE ⸻ Demon Gojo

synopsis ⸻ What would you do if one day some sort of gorgeous-looking entity randomly started floating around you? definitely not make a deal with it. right?

pairing ⸻ incubus gojo x reader

cw ⸻ MDNI, NSFW, Alternate Universe—Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe—Different Powers, Demon S*x, Public S*x, Non-Consensual Touching, P0rn With Plot, P0rn with Feelings, Isolation, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Death from Old Age, Exhibitionism, Manhandling, Supernatural Elements

wc⸻ 15k

a/n: Fingers crossed I do not get jailed again.

PART ONE

This is hard. And so inconvenient.

How long do you have to go like this? Trying to fumble around with your fingers to reach places that you cannot and just wishing there weren't a bunch of creepy apparitions floating around outside of your windows.

Maybe it's time to invest in a dildo or something, because trying to get a boyfriend has been fruitless.

It is not that you were not trying or that no one was interested. But it feels like you attract this very specific demographic of men, and they were all a bunch of creeps. Or just beings from the underworld.

You come from a family of shamans; your grandmother, who was one of the most infamous shamans when she was alive, couldn't pass down her abilities to her daughter, nor did she want your mother to live like she did. Constantly being pestered by apparitions, ghouls, and demons—it took a strong mind to act like any other normal person while being surrounded by such dark things.

And unfortunately for you, you inherited the centuries-old powers that run in your family.

From your memories, you distinctly remember when you first started seeing these things. You were 7 years old, and this kid showed up in your backyard when you were playing all by yourself. And he became your best friend. You hurried home from school to play with him, and he'd always be waiting for you in your backyard. You'd hurry to get off the school bus and run past your mother to run straight to your backyard.

Your mother never really thought too much about it, but when one day your teacher told her that you've not been making friends in your class, spacing out in class, and waiting to go home to play with your best friend—your mother naturally became worried. She never saw you playing with someone. And you've always had so many friends since you were a kid; you loved school. She could not help but wonder what was going on.

That's when your mother sat you down to ask about this friend of yours. Who was apparently sitting right beside you and did not appreciate your mother's tone.

Your poor mother, who was sheltered from these things by her mother her entire life, had no idea how to help you acclimate to these things. Fortunately, your grandmother was still around then; she exorcised your friend without telling you, and for days you were bedridden after crying yourself sick, missing your best friend .

Things were never the same since then; you struggled through kindergarten and elementary school, unable to make friends. And when you did, they were always creeped out by you. It was either you'd bring a friend with you to play with everyone else, who couldn't be seen by others. You'd be petting a cat, again, that no one could see. They'd find you helping a grandpa, who also was not visible to bare eyes.

Around the end of elementary school, your parents finally sat you down and explained what was wrong with you.

And eventually, before you even entered high school, you were named that one creepy kid. The high school kids were more brutal than the elementary or kindergarten kids. The bullying, the silent murmuring, rooms going silent when you'd walk in, getting weird questions like,

‘Hey, can you really see ghosts? Or are you just faking it for attention?’

Rumors were circulating that you'd curse people if they spoke to you. Which did help with not getting asked weird questions. But that meant things became more physical. Your books would be gone before class, the desk would be pushed off to the side, juice spilled on your chair—and even the teachers wouldn't help you. How would they help if they can't even look you in the eyes themselves? So you were left to your own vices, except for this one kid from the class next door to yours. Who would not stop pestering you, saying things like ‘who cares’—when you’d yell at him to stay away from you, telling him how no one would talk to him if they saw you with him. He was the only person ever to stand up for you then, when you would also refuse to stand up for yourself. Back then you found him quite annoying, but now you’d say he is the only reason why you can still think about that time without spiraling.

So your parents moved around a lot for your sake. In the few years of high school, you lived in approximately 7 different places. So when you graduated from high school, you knew you wanted to move out of the country for at least these 4 years of university. The rumors caught up with you one way or another, whether you were in a big city or some small town. So in your opinion it was the best possible solution.

So you moved away. And things were somewhat better; no one came up to you asking whether or not you were faking your powers for attention, but it did not improve your social life. You remained all by yourself throughout college, in an unknown place, miles away from your parents. But you did master how to ignore the floating entities around you.

The more you ignore them, the more they slowly start to pester you less and less.

It was around the time just before your graduation that your grandmother died. And unfortunately, you could not go back home to see her one last time, and neither could your parents fly out to attend your graduation.

Just like that, you graduated all alone. Like you started college all by yourself.

After a few months, you moved back home and found yourself a job with good pay and an apartment in a nice place. Your parents moved back to your mother’s ancestral home and visited you as often as they could. But that didn't solve your loneliness. Parents can only give you so much support, but the lack of a social life can't just be mended by great parents, unfortunately.

At work, people never became comfortable enough around you to call you a friend; you were intimidating to them. It was hard to approach you, and the cloud of gloom that floated around you may not have been visible to them, but it ran a shiver down their spine. So your colleagues kept it short and concise when interacting with you. During lunch you either ate by yourself on the rooftop or went out all alone.

Dating was equally hard. If not harder, you tried almost everything. Meeting new people, which only ended up with creepy men trying to hit on you; online dating, which never worked out; and even meeting some people through your parents, who always brought up the rumors from your past.

No matter what you did, you kept being haunted.

Like right now, a lady kept peering into your room from outside of your windows with this creepy smile while you tried to ignore her as much as you could and focused on the people getting it on on your laptop screen. Fortunately, the talismans all over your apartment kept these things out. But it did not stop them from lurking.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mumbled to yourself, trying to focus on the couple moaning on your screen but getting constantly distracted by the smiling lady outside of your window.

Being unable to focus on your screen and unable to use your fingers precisely, you gave up on trying to relieve yourself, slammed your laptop shut, and went to bed. Defeated and frustrated.

The next morning you woke up to something poking your nose.

You didn't live with any pets. And no one other than you and your parents had access to your apartment. And there are spiritual bindings and talismans all over your apartment to keep entities out. Then why is there a guy floating on top of you?

He has white hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and nothing on his body except basketball shorts. He did not look translucent enough to be an apparition. His poking ceased as you got off your bed to get ready for work, seeming as nonchalant as you possibly could. If this entity is strong enough to infiltrate your home, who knows what else he's capable of?

You headed to the bathroom with him now, walking closely behind you. Before he could come in, you closed the door on him. Which was so helpful; the guy just emerged behind you, and you could feel him standing close to you, holding you by your waist, putting his head on your shoulder. But you couldn't see his reflection in the mirror. From the side of your eyes, as discreetly as you could, you saw him smiling and looking at you in the mirror. Then you saw his fangs peeking, not extremely prominent, but visibly there. And felt his claws digging through your shirt; his entire hand was the color of the midnight sky, which went up his forearms and faded into his pale skin around his elbows.

It was hard to classify this guy; usually entities that manifest from previously alive beings just float around, and if they are brave enough, they try to possess you, which results in them instantly burning due to the locket that your grandmother left behind. Which held a fraction of her life source. The most probable answer is that he is a demon.

It was fairly easy to distinguish apparitions, phantoms, ghouls, etc. But demons, on the other hand, were complicated because they are more deceitful than others. It was easier for them to possess people, form a disguise, or use veils. You only ever had to face one demon in your life, and fortunately it was just a dog. Also, it was extremely friendly to you.

This guy doesn't feel like a normal entity. If he is powerful enough to cross your spiritual boundaries and just touch as he pleases, he is not something you want to mess with. So the best bet is to ignore him until you can figure out what his intentions are.

But it is not easy to maneuver with an guy above 6’3 holding onto your waist and floating around you.

And how are you even supposed to do your daily routine? You can't just not do anything because there is some entity attached to you. Without risking your powers being exposed, you have to get rid of him.

So you tried to recite some spells of protection to get rid of him. Didn't work. Next, you made it seem like you were stretching while the guy was standing still in front of you and trying to follow your movements, and just when he bent down like you just did, you placed a talisman on his back. It burnt away just as soon as you placed it.

You didn't have many choices, which kept your secret safe from him, the fact that you can see him.

Feeling annoyed and becoming more and more anxious, you went to the kitchen; maybe some coffee will help. The water was boiling in the kettle, and the coffee beans made a coarse sound while they were being ground. And the white-haired entity sat on your countertop, kicking his feet like a kid. Perhaps the frustration of last night and this guy showing up was getting to your head, because you reached out for salt instead of the sugar. You are also at fault here for keeping similar-looking products next to each other in similar containers without any labels. Your father definitely would nag you if he saw this.

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Between you almost putting salt in your coffee and the white-haired, blue-eyed entity sneaking his hands under your shirt, you shrieked and your hands jerked up. Which resulted in the salt being thrown at the guy behind you, resulting in his instant disappearance.

Huh? For a being that powerful, it sure is silly that it was the salt of all things that got rid of him.

You really thought he was gone; if not fully, then maybe at least he would not dare to come close to you now. So you made your coffee, with sugar this time, and reminded yourself to rebind your home with stronger protection.

Unfortunately for you, this was not the last of the white-haired, blue-eyed entity that you'll be seeing.

The rest of that day you spent anxiously looking for that white-haired, potential demon. You looked around your desk, under your desk, around the rooftop of your office building, where you usually eat your lunch, and even around the bathroom cubicles. To the point where you were anxiously looking behind yourself while walking down the hallways, walking to the subway station, on the train, and at the grocery store.

And fortunately, except for random apparitions and ghouls, the particular guy with sharp claws didn't show up. Yet still, you didn't get any sleep that night, which was the usual without any melatonin gummies, though things have been a little better for the past few months. Instead of the usual 3 hours of sleep, you've been getting 6 hours! But the worry kept you up until it was 4 AM in the morning, and you felt somewhat reassured that he wouldn't be showing up.

The white fluff of hair and boring blue eyes reappeared around 5:30 AM. Honestly, he appeared way later than you anticipated. Also at a very inconvenient time, which is about to become a pattern with this thing that you've attracted.

Instead of your 7:30 AM alarm, you woke up to a pair of cold hands and sharp nails gliding over your skin. Coldness like you've never felt before, yet burning like hell itself, resided on those fingers. Those hands seemed to have no strategy or plan of where they wanted to run wild; they started groping on your thighs, leaving indents of his sharp claws on the sensitive skin. Just enough pressure to leave marks but not to make you bleed.

And you knew when your eyes snapped open that he was back. It took a lot of holding back to not instantly sit up and throw salt at him; he'd realize that he's visible to you. But the way his hands were creeping upwards from the side of your thighs to your hips, then stomach, and nearly up to your chest—you sprinted towards the bathroom and locked yourself in there.

As embarrassing as it was to have a floating entity hovering in front of you as you tried to get your scheduled toilet routine done, you had no choice but to let him simply exist. This time around he was in a set of pajamas, which was very strange.

Entities, who emerged from human beings, either always were naked or were adorned in clothes they were either buried or cremated in. It was not usual for them to change clothes or reappear after being shunned away. There is a ritual of giving entities clothing or other things—it is a process of making these objects as offerings meant for the specific spirit you want to give them to and then incinerating them at the end so the objects reach the realm of the dead. And since this guy can change his appearance at will, this means your suspicions were correct; this is a demon. And if you are accurate in your guess, this is a sex demon, an incubus.

That is the most plausible explanation, given his behavior so far: touching you, twirling your hair, even sniffing you. But you wish, oh so badly, that you were wrong. It'd be a pain in the ass to deal with a demon, and it'd be a million times worse to deal with a sex demon. Because look at the state of you; what vitality do you have left in you to feed this demon?

Plenty, it can be assumed. From how he basically attached himself to you for the rest of that day.

From showering, with his intrusive hands and stares, barely dodging his perverse attempts. Getting ready for work and rushing out with just some toast with coffee in your stomach and a demon floating behind you, you went about the day by ignoring his entire existence. Especially his hands. Which seemed to have a mind of their own and a sleazy look on his face that could only be explained through one word that you kept repeating to yourself the entire day in agony and rage.

‘ Demonic little Pervert.’

Lying on your bed after an exhausting day of trying to run away subtly from a demon in the hallways, the rooftop where you eat lunch, and even the restroom, which was all just futile; the entity made himself at home in your cubicle, just around you in general.

Never did you ever feel so comfortable in your own skin as the way the demon felt touching it.

And now he is pushing his hands up your wrinkled skirt, trying to unbutton your blouse. So you just turned to your side, with an arm under your head, and stared at your curtains. Wishing for this demon to finally clock out as well and leave you alone. Do demons have working hours like a corporate employee crushed under a hyper-capitalistic system? Most probably not.

Therefore, unfortunately, it means he is not disappearing anytime soon.

If it came down to it, you'd just have to put on a show of trying to come across clumsily and mistakenly spill salt over him. But for now he just lay beside you, facing you, similarly on his side. Smiling from ear to ear and tracing a finger around the features on your face. Your jaw, the bridge of your nose, the tip of your nose, your bottom lip, your chin, and finally the little mole under your eyes. When you thought he was done, his finger poked you in the eye.

“OW!” You shrieked and sat up, covering your tearing eyes.

“YOU HORRIBLE FUCKING DEMON! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” All it took was one poke in the eye, and all your pretenses evaporated.

There was a long pause in the air. Along with some confusion from the pajama-clad demon, whose confused face and tilted head soon turned into an eager and smug audacity.

“Oh? You can see me?”

Shit.

“N-no?”

“Oh, really?”

If even for a second you thought your very poorly blurted-out lie worked. Oh, how wrong you were for that.

In a mere blink of an eye, the demon is above you, and you are pinned down beneath him, with no power in you to move. As if you were paralyzed for some weird reason.

This shitty little demon.

You were, in fact, pinned down by demonic powers, way out of your league of understanding, of the incubus above you. You were rendered nothing but helpless prey to the predator, whom you've managed to lure into your home.

You could lie there and think about everything, trace back your every step, and wonder what exactly had you end up with a demon leeching on you. But that’d require sanity and clarity, both of which you currently lacked severely. Due to the demonic entity and his fluffy white hair, covering those blue eyes, nothing is as dark as electric blue, but more shocking than ever.

“Aw, angel, you ignored me for the entire day when you could've just let me know you were busy admiring me.” His whispers fanned your neck, and his left hand slithered up your thigh as he made his legs comfortable. One right in between your own very thighs, opening them up, despite whatever left protest in you, while his other leg pushed one thigh from the outside. Positively putting you in an unknown, uncomfortable place. But the heat between your legs was growing rapidly.

“Should I assume yesterday the salt was intentional too? Hmm? So mean, angel, aren't you?” The faux hurt in his voice felt slimier than his hand on your throat. Gripping, not choking, yet.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, but I am trying !”

His laugh echoed through your half-empty room. Which truly looked unlived. No furniture other than what was necessary. No wonder you kept attracting these entities with your truly haunted-looking apartment. Even the bed was forced upon you by your parents; otherwise, it would’ve been just a mattress on the floor. And now it is the same bed where you lay helplessly at a demon's whim.

“Let’s become acquainted with each other, yes?” The hand that held his weight was now on the crown of your head, caressing. And the one on your throat made its way under your skirt. First it was just one long swipe over the shape of your pussy, covered under your panties. Then it was a finger pushing itself between your folds; despite the cloth being a barrier between your skin and his touch, it still managed to find your clit, and he pressed down on it. It was enough to make your entire body jerk, having your thighs close down on him.

“Oh angel, are you weak there?” There was no pity in his voice. It was patronizing. Just a lion playing with his prey before mauling it to death.

“Let's see where else you’re weak.”

The hand on your head caressed your head while the other played with your panties. Pulling on it, letting it snap back and cling to your skin, feeling the dampness through the thin material. And you lay there anticipating his next move, with eyes closed tightly shut. Waiting for him to just incinerate those panties off you and take his fill.

But when nothing came after for a long while, you slowly opened your eyes. And you felt your body lighter than how it felt before; you felt the sheet of metal like a heavy veil covering your body was now absent.

And so the demon was gone.

Incubi, or sex demons, are said to haunt people who are sexually frustrated. Because they are a great source of food for the demon.

And as a sexually frustrated, haunted, and isolated person—this should be great for you! Oh, how you wish it could be said things were like that.

Instead it was waking up the white-haired demon under your sheets, with his face between your boobs, hands groping them, while his hips rutted into yours; he was very clearly hard and possibly leaking. You could feel the sleazy smile on his face, even when everything below his nose was buried in your chest, and his eyes looked at you through his white wispy hair. They looked hungry, to say the least, and threatening, to say the most.

“Good morning to my sweet angel.” He tilted his face, and it was now visible, the sleazy, dopey smile on his face that said he'd rather be nowhere other than where he is right now.

“Get. Off. Me.”

“Ooh, now call me a bad boy; that'd just make me cream my pants!”

Before you could sit up and throw a few punches at him and maybe reach out for that salt shaker you put on your bedside table, he disappeared again. It was now just you, in your disheveled bed, your tank top pulled up to your neck, and your wet panties.

Well, he is hot; you have to admit to that. And you are very frustrated, needy, and sensitive. That is all.

The train that morning was disgustingly full. All because of a certain demon. Usually you leave a bit early to avoid the morning rush, but today you have to be crushed in between a bunch of sweaty people in a suit.

In these situations, there are always a few creeps among the crowd. And at this point it is hard to say whether it is your bad luck or some sort of you were the target of one of these creeps.

An older man moved behind you when the next station came, with a bunch more people getting in. When he initially pressed against you, you didn't think too much about it; everyone was pressed against one another whether they liked it or not. The man's intentions only became clear when a hand crept up the side of your thigh.

Unlike the demon's hand, it felt rougher, unpleasant. You felt like throwing up; somehow you couldn't even do anything. You just froze up there. Unable to do anything while some stranger tried to fumble with your belt. It was as if there was something entirely unworldly holding you captive. You looked around; anyone could barely see you in the corner like this. But they should still notice something like this.

And then you looked down; the hands that were trying to take off your belt were translucent. The set of feet beside yours was hardly noticeable.

You got ready in a hurry this morning. In fact, you happened to be in such a hurry that you mindlessly left behind your previous locket. The same locket that protects you from this sort of situation.

“I see you on this train every morning. Yet I can never do anything. Hah. I am lucky today.” You could now feel the coldness of the apparition behind you. Presumably this man somehow died on this train, and unfortunately, like any other entity, you caught his eye.

His hands were almost done with taking your zipper down. That's when you looked to the side, with teary eyes, and you saw the white-haired demon in the overhead luggage carrier. His blue eyes were boring into the man behind you.

“Aw. You're trying to find a replacement angel?” In a flash he was by your side instead of where he was previously.

“H-help me. Please, please.” One of your hands reached out to grab onto the demon, who was now weirdly in a suit. Your other hand grabbed onto the apparition's hand, which tried to creep into your underwear.

“JUST HELP ME PLEASE!” You whisper-shouted at the demon as quietly as you could without alerting anyone around you, and your grip on his jacket tightened.

“Since you asked so nicely, angel.” He flashed you a smile before his gaze shifted to the guy behind you.

“Hah. Yeah, try me, motherfu—” Before the apparition could even finish, the demon lifted one finger towards him, and within mere milliseconds the guy was gone.

Maybe you've taken this demon for granted, given how he acts around you. But it seems like he is immensely powerful, beyond anything or anyone you've ever seen. You've never felt power like this. Why is this demon even trying to feed off of you in the first place? Someone, or something, this string needs more vitality than you could ever produce.

“Wouldn't you kiss your hero as thanks?” Once again, you are pinned to the train's walls. This time against the blue-eyed demon, who just saved you from a creepy apparition.

“I only got in this situation because of you anyway.” You scowled at him, trying to push him off of you, with not much protest to actually get him off this time.

“Aw, how so?” Oh no, he looked adorable with that pout. You need to get a grip.

“If you didn't bother me this morning, then I—ugh. Whatever. What is with your outfit changes anyway?” You tried to whisper-shout at him again and hoped that no one else noticed what a nutcase you must have come off as.

“Hmm? Why? Don’t you like the suit? Want me to come naked next time?” That smirk on his face was doing things to you that you did not agree with.

“No! And stop suddenly disappearing and reappearing!” You felt his hand, which somehow was now on your waist, tighten, and another hand moving up between you two.

“Why? Y’miss me?” You could feel the heat creep up your neck, to your ears, and spread through your face.

“No. But, I can't believe I am saying this, thank you for being here.” His face lit up with a big, toothy smile. And you just had to look at his stupid fangs and his blue eyes and his tail-wait. He has a tail?

“I would've liked a kiss better, but I'll take what I can!” A thin, warm, pointy tail curled up your ankle when you looked down to confirm your thoughts. And indeed it was, as jet black as his hands and claws, a sharp tail. Before you could ask him where it even appeared from? You felt his claw on the waistband of your panties. Pulling on it with one sharp nail and letting it snap back on your skin, making you yelp in the process.

“That is a very pretty shade of blue you have there.” His hands slipped into your panties as the words left his mouth. His eyes trained down between the two of you, where your one hand flew to his wrist to prevent his claws from further slipping beyond the mound of your pelvic bone.

“St-stop!” Your other hand once again grabbed onto the arm of his jacket for support.

“Why? Don't I get my reward?” His head tilted in pure confusion.

“But—I said—” “That's not enough.”

Now that he looked up and stared you right in the eyes, you could not stop him any further. What it was was unclear—the charm of an incubus or your years' worth of frustration—nothing made sense.

You were basically breathless, unable to inhale or exhale anything. The sensation of his claws scratching against the sensitive skin between your legs and the grip on your waist in the crowded train. You could feel how his fingers inched closer and closer under the pad of his finger on your clit, and the sharp end of his claws was digging into your inner thighs and grazing your hole—it was all too much.

“Your, your claws.”

“Oh, that can be fixed in a second, angel.”

You could feel his fingers putting more pressure on your cloth, rubbing it, drawing figures of eight on it. While the rest of his fingers dug themselves into the flesh of your pelvic area. The claws were gone, just like that. Like how his clothes change with every appearance, his tail grows at his whim, and even his claws retract back into his skin.

Honestly, you were not sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. The claws were a good excuse to put a stop to what was happening, unless he did not give a shit about your well-being, which it didn't seem like he did, to an extent. But then again, when you brought up his claws, you genuinely just didn't want them to get in between you and his fingers. Sure, the sensation of the claws was something else, but not worth the bloodbath.

“Aw, look at my pretty pussy, so wet f’me?” He leaned in to your height to whisper in your ears. And you just prayed to whatever was out there that you don't get arrested for indecency in public.

It was truly humiliating. Having your back pressed to the doors of a public train, face turned just enough to catch a glimpse of the demon in front of you and the reflection of your own fucked-up face in the black glass of the doors. You'd rather look at your own humiliating expressions than know what was going on down there.

“Oh, she is so wet f’me, right? All for me.” His fingers were inside of you, two fingers deep, thumb on your clit, other hand on your waist—probably leaving marks—and everything was more visceral than ever.

It was maybe the train full of people almost finding out what you were up to, maybe it was his ink-tinted hands, which felt different than anything you've ever felt, or simply the fact that a demon of all things is making you feel such pleasures.

“Y-you have to—”

“I think you should be more concerned about what you have to do, angel.”

Even though he left the most important part unspoken, it was clear what you needed to do. You needed to cum on his hand in this train for him.

And with motive, his fingers both stretched in different directions inside of you. Pushing your walls and trying to remember every inch of you, memorizing it all. All the while his thumb kept going faster and faster, drawing little circles on it, making sure your clutch on his jacket remained as is.

“OH-Oh. Oh my—fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am—” It was about time his fingers found the spot on your wall, that textured part of you from within, just around the backside of your clit. He found the spot that had your hands fumbling all over his shoulders, trying to steady yourself. So with the help of his free hand, he placed them on his neck, and they instantly went to his hair.

“I will, please, please, I will.” Your legs were giving out. Another second like this, his fingers pushing that spot over and over, his thumb pressing down on your clit any harder, and you'll fall on this disgusting floor.

“Go on, come on, you can do it, angel, all for f’me, right? You’ll feed me well, right?” His head was down on your shoulders, just too close to your ears; his voice was just too raspy; the whispering, the little huffs of air coming out of his mouth along with groans—it was dizzying.

“Cum on my fingers, won't you?” It was not fair. Holding you basically hostage while also pleading with such command, it was so unfair.

But you did not care about all that when you came gushing down his fingers. More than your usual ten seconds, it lasted probably for minutes, sending shock waves through your body, until you had nothing more to give to his fingers—that made sure to ride you all through your orgasm by keeping themselves mobile.

While you were a twitching, lifeless, drenched underwear-wearing mess, tightly held in his hand, he took out the fingers from your cunt. He did his best to gather everything he could, making you jump in the process. And all of that went right in his mouth.

It was honestly too generous to call it nasty. The way his tongue slipped between those slick fingers and wrapped around them. That long and sharp-looking tongue lapped all of you off his fingers, allowing his fingers to enter his mouth as fast as they wanted to deposit their hard-earned prize. All while his free hand held your face up by the chin, and he looked right down in your eyes while doing all those unfathomable, obscene things.

“So sweet.” You were not even sure if the comment was meant for you or just a general note for himself.

As his tongue cleaned up all that was left over on his hand, you witnessed the sight of his claws growing back, sharp and still equally black as some void, like the rest of his hand.

“You want some?” He leaned down to your face, nose touching yours, eyes blue as ice, before leaning down to kiss you.

It was the first time he kissed you. It was the first time anyone had ever kissed you, other than cats and dogs—but that does not count. You always thought first kisses were too overhyped; it cannot be some magical or whatever thing that people go on and on about.

But the way his lips slotted with yours and the little smile that crept onto his mouth was everything that was wrong with this situation.

This was a demon, pushing his tongue into your mouth, and you were letting him. Tasting the lingering taste of your own cum in his mouth. How his tongue tangled with yours, chased after it, and the subtle taste of his spit. It was unlike anything you've ever tasted before. You could feel his fangs against your tongue and then digging on your lips.

Nothing about this made sense. But it felt so undeniably good. So good that you almost felt as if this was it, this was right. This is what was missing. This is what your toys and fingers could not recreate.

And that did not make any sense.

If someone told you one day you'd have to call into work, informing them that you were too sick to clock in on time from a subway station. With a clingy demon in an expensive three-piece suit attached to your side, you’d probably tell that person to shoot you.

But here you are. Head in your hands, elbows on your knees, and a demon hugging you from the back. Life sure is crazy.

“Just skip work altogetherrrrr, let's go home and fuck.” His face tilted on your shoulder, and he batted his eyelashes, making attempts to coerce you into his wishes.

“Will you fuck off already?”

“You’re hurting meeeee!”

“Good.”

A pout made its way onto his filthy lips while he muttered something that sounded like ‘so mean’ under his breath. And he floated away from where he was previously annoying you to take the empty seat beside you to annoy you. He looked too cute and innocent for a demon. But maybe that is part of the deception. So you sat there with your elbows on your knees, leaning forward in your seat, to take a better look at his face.

Still gorgeous and still evil.

“I am wondering when you're going to leave me alone.” You looked forward at the empty tracks in front of you and the basically empty station. It was already well past 12:00 PM, so at least there was no one to witness you, or what it looked like to bare eyes, talking to yourself.

“Aw. I have been getting rid of pests for you, and this is how you talk to me!?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat with a more intense pout.

“Wait. You've been doing that before, just not this? Not just today?” His little comment had you sitting up in your seat and moving your body enough to face him.

“Mmhmm. I've been making sure no pest gets to you, you know! Not my fault you forgot your pendant at home. I was bringing it back for you, but I guess some cockroach found you before me.” You just stared at him in silence for a solid few minutes as he smiled at you sweetly.

“You bought my pendant?” You blinked at him in confusion. Just how powerful and how fucking dense is this guy?

All he did was reach into the breast pocket of his jacket to pull out a silver chain with a dangling pendant on it. He leaned forward and reached behind your neck to clasp the chain back on you. With a little kiss on your forehead and a big toothy smile, he yet again disappeared on you.

Since it did not look like you're getting rid of this floating demonic thing anytime soon. It was the best bet to use him to your own advantage.

So this time, you waited for him patiently and eagerly to pop up in your room. After the last time you spoke to him at the station, he didn't show up for the rest of the day. Leaving you to think things through with the newfound information you got from him.

And what better time other than a Saturday night to negotiate a deal with a demon?

“So what do I get in return?” The demon looked down at you from where he was floating in the air, above your head, in just some gray sweats.

“I don't immediately end your entire existence.” You deadpanned, trying not to stare too long at his back muscles flexing from the way he folded his arms under his head. There were faint black lines, resembling strikes of lightning. They ran from the back of his arms, up to his shoulder, from his nape, down under the waistband of his sweatpants, where his pointy tail started and swished around in the air.

“Ok, ouch, angel, and here I was already choosing names for our children.” He pouted and slowly came down to your eye level, with his arms cartoonishly and lifelessly hanging in the air.

“Do not make me throw salt at you.” You leaned back on your headboard, and your hands clutched the pouch of salt.

“Alrightttt. But you can't expect a demon to just do you favors, like keeping pests off of you, and not ask for anything in return.” With a shrug, he continued. “Then I would've been the angel here, right?”

As annoying as it was to look at him smiling like he had you exactly where he wanted you to be, you didn't really have any other choice. Your pendant isn't working anymore; your grandmother's life essence and the effects of her spell are depleting from the pendant by the second, making the pendant’s barrier weaker by the second. And you don't have enough knowledge to do something about this. This annoying, sly, and very gorgeous demon is your only hope.

And unfortunately, he knows it too.

“Ok. You can feed on my life essence.”

“SO WE CAN FUCK!?” You rolled your eyes in defeat as the demon suddenly plopped on your bed with excitement, making you bounce on the mattress in the process.

“IF MY BED BREAKS, YOU'RE MAKING ME A NEW ONE!”

“Oh, no worries, I'll get you a new one every time we break one.” His cheery tone just made the words spouting out of his mouth more filthy sounding.

“You—never mind.”

But you were already too tired to say anything more. So you lay back on your bed, with your arms over your head, trying to push down the headache you could just feel coming over. The demon, on the other hand, lay right beside you on his side, taking it as an invitation to initiate his first proper meal .

But before he could get his grubby claws on you, you sat up on your elbows, making his eyes pop in slight surprise and disappointment.

“Oh right, what am I supposed to call you?” Usually you can perform a ritual, burn a spell, and get the entity's name and some other notable information like when they were born, when they died, type of death, what type of entity they are, etc. and other stuff. And you tried that for this demon as well, but nothing came out. Each time the visions were blank. It made you wonder how bad your luck must be to come across something so terrible.

“Ah! Hmm…. You can call me… Toru!” He smiled wide, looking proud of himself.

“You said it like you just made that up on the spot.” The possibility made you frown. Maybe he is being cautious so you don't find anything about him.

“Nope! That's my name!” He smiled ear to ear, eyes closed, looking like an innocent creature, like he was not even a demon.

“That just sounds more suspicious.” You squinted your eyes at him, while he just smiled ear to ear.

“Oh, come on, I thought our relationship had more trust than that.” He let his entire body fall on you, pinning you down to the mattress under him.

“Firstly, we do not have a ‘relationship’; what we have is a deal . And like hell I'll ever trust a demon.” Even though you rolled your eyes at him with a scowl on your face and tried to push him off of you, his pout just morphed into a smirk.

“Can't trust a demon, but you can let him fuck you, right?”

He pressed his hands, or claws, on either side of your head to hover over you. With that annoying smirk on his face, which made your head boil and stomach tighten. You could feel your chest getting heavier; it was getting hard to breathe normally with a demon over you and his pointy tail wrapping around one of your ankles. You tilted your head away from him, not answering him, letting the tension in the air speak for itself. The anticipation was heavy in the air for what was to come next.

Toru, as he told you to call him, nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. Moving his face up to your jaw, planting a kiss there, and going back down to dig his fangs into the side of your neck without any warning. You shrieked under his constant sucking and biting, while your left hand went up to pull on his hair, and your face scrunched up in something between pain and pleasure.

“A-are you even a demon… or a fucking vampire?” Your right arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. You could feel the flex of his muscles and even his skin that felt too human, too soft, and too warm to touch. He didn't retort to you with a verbal answer, just hummed in the crook of your neck as a smile stretched along his lips.

Once he was happy enough with the marks on your neck, he moved down to your collarbone. After licking the expansion of the bones with his sharp tongue, he moved lower to rip the front of your tank top with a single claw nail. You could feel his nail grazing on your skin, making your back arch off the bed. It felt as if your skin would break any moment and there would be an open wound, but there was not; he was too careful to not have a single drop of your blood flow out of your veins. But if you could see, you'd see a single line drawn from the middle of your chest up to your belly button. And you didn't mind that tingling sensation on your skin, the feeling of being on the edge of an almost injury, or the destroyed shirt under you.

All you could care about and focus on were his lips sucking, biting, and pulling on one of your nipples and one of his hands squeezing and kneading your other tit, while his other hand dug into your skin and pressed you into the mattress.

“Ugh— fuck— Toru.” Everything felt unreal. As an almost twenty-something touch-starved virgin, you were sure that for the rest of your life you'd have to spend it with your hand and vibrator. Yet here you are, under a demon.

“Mmhmm, what does my pretty angel want?” He moved back to place himself between your legs and placed his chin on top of your lower tummy. And both of his arms wrapped around where your thighs met your hips

“Please, Toru.” You were already exasperated, covered in sweat, clutching your sheets, trying to focus your pupils on the demon between your legs.

“Ugh, beg more, I'm so close!” He jokingly moaned and morphed his face into an expression similar to yours. Earning a weak slap on his hand, causing him to giggle while he ripped open your shorts.

“WHY ARE YOU RIPPING EVERYTHING LIKE A DOG?” At that point you felt pissed enough to gather some air to shout at him and sit up on your elbows.

“They’re annoying.”

“ You are annoying!”

“You're so mean to me!” He looked like a dog who just got reprimanded for trying to sneak into the food cabinet. And he nuzzled his face into your panty-covered cunt, then fully burrowing his nose on the mound to take a long sniff as your thighs clenched around his head.

Once he was done taking in your scent and possibly embedding it into your memory, you thought he'd move onto the next part. What, you didn't expect that he'd start licking your pussy through your panties? Not some lacy, sexy, black underwear—but some pastel pink cotton underwear, discolored on the crotch from years of wear and the horrors of periods. He bit your folds, wiggled his tongue between them, and pressed his tongue heavily on your slit. Soaking the panties in your juices and his saliva, he bit your clit along with some fabric of the panties and proceeded to suck on them as much as the barrier between his mouth and your clit allowed him. In conclusion, he was basically eating you out through your panties—like the freaky demon he is.

“J-just, fucking get rid of it.” You pulled on his hair with both your hands, one hand shoving his head further into your cunt, the other trying to pull him away.

“You said not to rip anything off.” His words came out muffled from still being stuffed between your legs.

“Just take them off normally.” You were getting too impatient to even shout at him.

“That's no fun.” Yet he knew just how to provoke you enough to have you reach for the bag of salt under your pillows.

“OK, SORRY, HERE, TAKING THEM OFF!” He sat up hurriedly when he noticed your hands were gone from his hair. “You're no fun.” He pouted and put both of your feet on his shoulder to drag your panties off.

And suddenly you felt too exposed, nervous, hyperaware of his blue eyes boring between your thighs, and hands holding your thighs open. A part of you felt like it was better when he had just left your panties on, and the other part wanted nothing more than Toru back where he was. The picture of the demon’s claws retracting back into his skin, the one last feeling of them scratching the skin of your inner thighs, was what finally made you realize the situation at hand.

You're losing your virginity to this demon, and you actually didn't mind it; you were kind of looking forward to it. It was a bizarre realization. But no more bizarre than having a demon's tongue stuffed in your hole.

Toru’s sharp tongue wiggled around trying to explore every nook and cranny inside of you, memorizing all of it. While his tongue busied itself inside of you, one of his fingers slipped in to help stretch you out more, and his other hand rubbed random shapes on your clit.

“Fuck—fuck. Ugh. There.” You couldn't help but let the groans and moans slip out of you, letting them get absorbed straight into his ego.

Toru hummed in accordance and pressed his tongue up where it had you tightening your grip on his hair. The vibrations from his moans had you twitching. And you could feel something building up, something familiar but a thousand times more intense than what you have ever achieved by yourself.

“I-I am—” You couldn't complete your warning, and yet he hummed like he understood.

He was ready to lap up everywhere that you had to offer. And when you came around his tongue, that's exactly what he did. He didn't leave behind anything that he could have the pleasure of tasting on his tongue. Sure, demons don't eat regular human food, but this was basically his human equivalent to a five-star meal.

“What?” You were either too busy staring into his eyes or just went brain-dead from that orgasm.

“Not done with ya’.” Toru pulled you towards him by one of your ankles, and the sheets under you bunched up.

“God. I've been waiting for this so long, angel; you have no idea.” He pulled your thighs to his sides, and your legs, although feeling like jelly, automatically latched around his waist. “Y’just can't wait, can ya’? Pretty cunt wants me inside so bad. She's feeling empty, huh?”

His sharp tongue went on to spout more bullshit. Like, “Don't even have to show you how to use those legs, huh?” He kept rubbing the tip of his cock at your entrance, letting it slide in a few times, and each time all he had as an excuse was “oops.”

“FUCKING PUT IT IN!” You threw a pillow at him, fed up with his antics and getting edged even before having his cock fill you up. He caught the pillow with his left hand while his other hand finally helped him put the length of his cock inside of you.

“ Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ahh!” Your back automatically arched off the bed.

“There ya’ go. Happy then, angel?” He pushed the entire thing inside of you in one go after throwing the pillow on the floor. His smile got all dopey as he leaned forward and put his weight on both of his hands on either side of you, getting a better look at your eyes rolling back behind your sockets. “You feel so much better than what I imagined, ugh—fuck—ughh, so perfect, my pretty angel.” His right hand came to your waist to rub soothing circles.

“Good heav—”

“Wouldn’t— fuck —hell be more— ughh — appropriate?”

“S-shh—ut up.”

He leaned forward to dive back in the crook of your neck; with his signature sleazy smile on his face, he continued to thrust his hips at a pace where the stretch down there burned, but it also brought you pleasure you couldn't describe. He went back to bite down on your neck as some form of holding himself back, supposedly. Even if he was moving at a pace you couldn't comprehend but felt good with, you could feel Toru, on the other hand, was holding himself back.

“Bite me again and—”

“Threatening me some more, angel?” He murmured in your ear before biting down on your bruised skin once again.

You retaliated by moving up slightly to reach his neck and bit down hard enough to have the raw and metallic taste of his blood bleed out a little. It tasted different than what blood is usually supposed to taste like; you'd know as a chronic lip biter. Sure, it was metallic and salty, and then it was sweet in the beginning and left a bitter aftertaste.

“F-fuck. You want me to pass out or something, angel?” He snapped his head to the left to face you, and in mere seconds his lips met yours. It was no gentle kiss; it was greedy. He was being so greedy with how he licked around your lips, sucked on them, forced your mouth open with his tongue, and slipped that sharp muscle inside of your own mouth to explore every nook and cranny inside, to remember the differences in how you.

“There ya' go pretty, ugh aren't you the prettiest? My pretty angel's pretty pussy—so lethal.” Toru moved around to sit back on his knees.

“Legs up, sweets.” He grabbed your legs together and placed them on his shoulder to thrust deeper and harder like that.

“FUCK. Oh, ugh—”

“Yeah, you like it, huh? Are you happy that I took your virginity? Yes, baby?” He cooed at the state of you, eyes rolled back, littered in marks, and his saliva Everything was a mess around and on you, your hair, the sheets, and you especially looked the most messed up, holding onto the sheets like your life depended on it and sliding up on them from the force of the demon's thrusts.

“Y—yes. YES!”

He giggled at your reply and focused on hitting the same spot that had you thrashing around and digging your nails into his thighs. Your groans and moans filled your little bedroom, echoed on your nearly empty walls, as the movements of his hips got sloppier.

“I—Oh gosh, I—,”

“I know, baby, cum on my cock, angel.”

And so you did; just as his fingers moved to rub your clit, you could feel the knot in your stomach detangling. When he felt your walls clench around him, he threw his head back. He was just as close to his own release, but your satisfaction came first. “Fuck, swallow me whole, you sweet thing.” His hand tightened around your ankles, still hanging on his shoulder, while his other hand moved from your clit to your lower belly to press on it as you came undone. The claws on his hand started to grow as he pressed right under your belly button, and that is probably where everything went blank for you. All you could see were white beams of light in the blur of your room, and your legs slacked off of his shoulder, shaking like you went up five flights of stairs.

“My good girl, look at that angel, shit. ”

The indents of his sharp claws left behind a shape, which could be connected to draw something resembling a tilted heart. Now it's open to interpretation whether it was intentional or not, but given he is a literal demon, there are barely any actions he does without calculating the consequences.

Before you could even realize anything, the demon cock started twitching inside of you, your own twitchy legs tightened around him subconsciously, and he stumbled over on top of you. You held him in your arms as he shot ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you.

“My pretty, pretty angel, goin’ to fill her up, breed her good.”

“You're a demon.” You said to him very matter-of-factly once you found your vision coming back. “So?”

“So, how are you going to get me pregnant?” He raised an eyebrow at you and flopped down on you, then buried his face by your head and tilted his head to look at you with a sly smile.

“Who said demons can't get you pregnant?”

“WHAT?” You almost sat up and shoved him off before he started laughing and pushed you back down.

“Wait, wait, ok, so yeah, it's possible, but it's more complicated than that. So no worries, you won't get pregnant unless I actually try to do that.” He smiled at you and rubbed soothing circles by your side. He looked finally content, like you do after a scrumptious meal.

“More reasons to not trust your ass.”

“Oh, you can trust my ass; touch it if you want real bad.” He said in a playful sing-song voice and ended his sentence with a wink. It made you slap his shoulder, but you couldn't help but let a few chuckles slip out.

Your laughter died down, and everything around you started dimming down too. The weight of his body, the feeling of his tail wrapping around your ankle, his hands holding you tight with his claws back in his skin, and his cum seeping out of you—it was a recipe for deep slumber. And sleep you did; this was after a very long time. Your eyes got heavy to the point you couldn't keep them open anymore. This felt nice; this felt like something you could get used to.

But when in the morning, afternoon to be exact, well past 12:00 PM, you woke up after a full night's sleep, he was gone. It felt like you just went to bed, and without any dreams disturbing your sleep, when you woke up it felt like just seconds had gone by. But he was gone.

Maybe you shouldn't get used to this.

Making deals with a demon never comes without a price.

For you, that cost was probably your sanity. Honestly, what is worse? Entities roaming around you or a demon tiring you out. Not easy to answer, but the feeling of his tongue inside your tongue first thing in the morning, accompanied by orgasms, wasn't such a bad thing.

“I loveee breakfast in bed!” He’d moan in your ear while thrusting into you with full force, like he didn't have dinner the night before. Plus now you get to sleep like a normal individual at night, well, after getting fucked to a puddle of nothing, that is.

“You look so good in this shirt, fuck, I just wanna tear it off of you.” The demon muttered right in your ears while floating in the air just beside you.

You were at your desk, at work, inside of your office building, trying to focus on your tasks for the day, yet somehow every one to two hours the demon would show up to terrorize you. Some days he wouldn't show up during working hours, some days he'd be here for way too long, and some days he'd come and go in intervals. The inconsistency made it harder for you to come up with measures to prevent the demon from trying to let his claws wander anywhere he'd like or run his tongue to spout the most vile things in broad daylight.

“Ughhh, I wish I was inside you right now.”

“You are so focused, it makes me want to bend you over on this table.”

“I want to eat you out right here and have these people watch me. I bet you'll like it.”

The whining was tolerable, but the words that came with it were the problem. To be fair, it was the demon in it of itself who was the problem. But then again, since he has been around, you have not seen a single other entity around you; things have been so smooth, if you don't count the whole demon situation.

But change is always taxing. That's what you told yourself when you suddenly got sick after a week and a few days of having the demon around. He is basically becoming an usual part of your routine; the only reason why he is not is because he is extremely unpredictable. Like catching a cold, you're fine, sucking on a popsicle one day, and the next day your throat is hurting, so you brush it off thinking it'll go away at the end of the day. But it's not; it only gets worse the next day, and by the third day you're bedridden with a high fever.

That's exactly what happened to you.

Figuratively and literally. A demon latched onto you all of a sudden, and now he is freely using you as he pleases, and you are also bedridden, sick from god knows what, counting down your days because it feels like death.

“It’s not that bad, angel.”

The demon suddenly appeared next to you on the bed. And you could feel your temperature about to rise. You were well enough to see a blurry image of his face hovering over yours, but not enough to shout at him or move away. You were in no shape to feed him. And if that's what's going to be happening to you in this state, you might have to soon find a way to get rid of him, or better, think about how you're going to even get rid of him in this moment.

“Oof, you're burning.” Instead of the impact of his lips, you felt the back of his obsidian hand on your forehead. Taking your temperature and assessing your condition. You could barely open your eyes to look at his face, and it looked worried. His brows were scrunched, his lips were jutted out subconsciously, and he looked focused—almost human.

Toru vanished in a flash in your bathroom and then floated into your kitchen. After rattling around in there for a few minutes, he came back with a bowl of water and a cloth, a glass of water, and some meds from your bathroom cabinet. He sat you up carefully to wipe away the sweat covering your body, gently gliding the small towel over your neck, back, arms, face, and belly. He gave you the meds and helped you hold the glass. Then he gently laid you back down and adjusted the air conditioner’s temperature. placed a bottle of water by your bedside, sat down on the floor, and placed his head on the bed to stare at you, like some puppy.

“Do you want something to eat? Some porridge, maybe ?” He looked worried, helpless even, more than how helpless you look right now.

“How are you going to order anything?” You mumbled with your eyes closed, almost drifting away to sleep.

“I can cook!” He excitedly sat up and lifted his head off the bed.

“I don't want to be liable if you use my kitchen to burn down his building.”

“If you keep doubting me like this, angel, I'll cry.” He folded his elbows on the bed to come closer to your face.

“So you want to burn down this building with your tears?”

“Now you're stereotyping me! All because I am a poor little demon!”

“Sure, you helpless creature.” A grin pulled on your lips, and even with your eyes closed, you know there was a similar one on his face.

The conversation died there as you lost your consciousness. And the demon got to work in your kitchen. He found some sad-looking vegetables in your fridge and other things to get to cooking. He also made a mental note to remind you to go grocery shopping. He found no problem working around in your space; at this point he was more acclimated to this apartment than you, and he looked after it better than you. He gathered your dirty clothes you always left scattered on the floor, made your bed, did your laundry, folded your laundry, and cleaned your dishes and the toilet, and now he is cooking for you. If he wasn't a demon, he would be the top contender for the best potential househusband. After about an hour, he was already done.

“Angel? Wake up, eat a little, ok?” He got the little folded table on the side of your bed to place it by your side and put the plate of food on it.

“Mmhmm.” He helped you to sit up and handed you a glass of water.

When you didn't even reach out to hold it and sat there with your eyes closed and hair looking like a bird's nest, he helped you drink some water. And even spoon-fed you the food. He blew on it gently to cool down every bite, brought the glass of water up to your lips from time to time, and then also cleaned up after everything. Like the good potential househusband he is, he did the dishes, set your meds by your bedside table, and tucked you in bed.

“Get well, angel.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and you swear you heard him mumble something else. But you were too sleepy, and he was too quiet. You didn't even have any energy to ask anything; your eyes were betraying you, and before you made up your mind to ask him what he said, he was gone.

The next few days went by like that. The demon came in more often than usual to take care of you. Because what you thought was just a light cold from the changing seasons turned out bad enough to make you unable to get up from your bed for 4 days. You wish you could take more time to fully recover, but then also you couldn't ignore work anymore. So for the rest of the week, with your own little demon helper, you worked from home. Making that little demon helper feel a little angsty and neglected.

“Let's just go back to the bed.” The demon floated around you like a toddler whining for candy. He has been persistently trying to pry you out of your chair for the last 1 hour, and so far his efforts have been futile.

“I have a lot to do.” You kept your eyes trained on your monitor. The light reflecting off your glasses made it harder for him to gauge whether you were just annoyed at him or being hard on him as usual.

“And I want to do you .” He said that with a stone-straight face after he popped his head between you and your monitor.

“Go back to hell or something.” You tried to look past him and continued typing.

“Do you hate me, angel!?” His face morphed into an exaggerated desperate expression, eyebrows scrunched and both corners of his mouth turned down. He cradled your face in his hands, his claws adjusted to a medium length so they wouldn't scratch you by accident. You noticed that from the corner of your eye and felt something fluttering in your chest.

“You're making me hate you.” You pulled his hands off your face and moved him to the side like a floating balloon.

With a sigh he deflated down on the floor and placed his head on your lap. You looked down at his sulky face and the way his tail thumped on the floor in annoyance. It made the corners of your lips tug. Hesitantly you placed your nondominant hand to pat the floor of his messy, white, pearly hair. And he immediately moved his head towards your touch and looked up at you from where he let his face rest on your lap. His lips didn't move anymore than the usual smirk that always adorned his lips, but his eyes tugged into a smile. You looked away from him and went back to typing away on your keyboard, but you didn't shove him off your lap. You liked the warmth of his face, the way he looked up at you, the way his eyes smiled, and how his hands wrapped around your legs.

The moment was filled with sweet silence. It felt like you might as well get used to this. But like you can't trust a crocodile’s tears, you can't just assume that a demon would be content with head pats. That'd be wishful and naive of you.

First you felt a kiss on your thighs, right on the valley where they pressed together. You didn't think much of it. Then he started sucking on the skin there; it bruised easier than, say, your neck. By the time you barely typed two incorrectly spelled words, he had your thighs parted, face buried in between your legs, sniffing your cunt through your shorts. His arms curled around your knees and kept them open with ease. So now you have a demon between your legs, licking and sucking on your cunt through your cotton shorts.

“F-fucking hell, Toru.” The demon only hummed and looked up at you from where he was positioned on his knees. Your hands were off your keyboard at this point, buried in his hair, pulling on it. He pushed your chair back, and it wheeled backwards while he dragged your shorts off you. In that sudden moment, you couldn't figure out what was even happening when he moved under your desk and dragged your chair forward and went back to the position he was in.

“Ooh. No underwear? Finally taking my advice, angel?” He kept gawking at you, at your cunt. It was better to not wear underwear at home; it felt more comfortable. But not that you'll ever tell him he was right. Toru dove right in, licking at your slit and sucking on your clit like he hadn't been fed in days. Which is not wrong; he has been starving. You were honestly surprised by how much the incubus strained for your sake. It softened your heart. But you won't admit to that as well.

“Go on. You said you were busy.”

You tried your best to ignore the fiend between your legs—eating you out like his life depended on it. It was sort of a discovery for you, seeing him on his knees for you, hidden under your desk; there was this sense of guilt that gnawed at you. But you couldn't help but get wetter with every lick and couldn't help but tighten your thighs around his head as you came all over him.

“So. Now shall we head to the bed, or do you want me to carry you?” He rested his head against your thigh as he licked around his lips to clean up everything you left behind. His smile was soft and his eyes were coercing; there was no way you were about to get out of the clutches of temptation personified, who's kneeling between your legs. With a sigh, you reclined in your chair and reached for the little satchel in your drawer.

“Sorry, Toru.” “Huh? What do you—”

Just as the sprinkle of salt hit his head, the demon disappeared from under your desk. You felt bad somewhat, but it's not like you had any other choice. It'd be easier to deal with a sulky demon than drowning in overdue work at the end of the month.

He didn't show up for the rest of the day.

Not even the next morning for his usual ‘breakfast.’ You thought he was angry with you. And it worried you. What if he was actually angry with you? What if he didn't show up for days? Was he going to be alright without getting his fill for days? Will you be alright without him around? But wait, isn't it better? To not have him around? Sure, you weren't even close to finding a replacement for your pendant or him, but wouldn't it be easier without an incubus always floating around you and whispering dirty things in your ear? Ruining your panties and cleaning up your apartment? Cooking for you and taking care of you when you're sick?

You're really getting off track.

“Hey! Good morning!” Your coworker, Ms. Miwa Kasumi, passed by and greeted you; she was pretty new. Which is probably why she has been the only person in your department to greet you without any obligations and without any stutters.

“Oh, good morning.” You did your best to return her a smile, but you were sure it came off weirder. But she still looked appreciative nonetheless and then started walking beside you towards the meeting room.

“Ugh! I hate meetings first thing in the morning; it sucks!” Ms. Kasumi whined while walking with you. Of course, who would like meetings, especially when their entire department, except for one junior maybe, behaves oddly with them? Working under a big-name company almost always sucks. Especially when it's going through new changes like getting a new CEO. So things have been hectic lately anyway. So on top of everything, imagine walking into a meeting room full of people, where your designated seat is occupied by a sex demon in a suit, who has been haunting you.

“Everything alright?” You froze in the door of the meeting, and Ms. Kasumi looked back to check on you.

“Uh—yeah!” You tried to enthusiastically answer and follow her inside where everyone was already gathered.

“Good morning to my sweet angel!” The demon piped from your seat as you walked up to it and lingered with placing your things on the table as slowly as you could. Giving plenty of time to get off your chair.

“Sit down, Ms. L/n, we're starting.” Your department instructed, and when you looked at the demon with a glare, he patted his lap with enthusiasm and a smirk on his face. You got fully cornered.

“This is punishment.” The demon said as he got comfortable under you. Maneuvering you to sit as closely on top of him as possible.

“I was just busy.” You tried to whisper back to him as nonchalantly as possible while keeping your eyes on the presentation on the screen.

“I know, but you were really mean.” He whispered back in your ear like everything that was happening between you two right now could be heard and seen by everyone.

His hands just toyed with the hem of your skirt at first. And as you got more comfortable with being on his lap, as you let your guard lower—his hands started roaming all over your body. It started innocently with drawing circles on your knees with his sharp nails, then his claws retracted back into his skin, which is never a good sign. His hands went up and up until they were just below your breasts. They stopped there and squeezed them, making you hunch defensively.

“Don't make it obvious, alright, sweets?”

He opened up your shirt and started running his fingers over your collarbones. And soon after pulled your bra down to put your tits out on a show. There you were, in a meeting room full of your coworkers and colleagues, looking down at your lap because you couldn't bear to look up to see the horrors in everyone's eyes. But the demon under you couldn't be less bothered. He played with your tits like he could smell the embarrassment and agony on you, but he could also see right through you. As if he could tell how much this was turning you on.

“What a dirty little angel you are.” He chuckled slightly right beside your ear, placed his chin on your shoulder, and bunched up your skirt. Then he pushed aside your panties, and without any prep or warning, he rammed his cock inside of you. You were on the verge of screaming out a moan; your grip on the hand rest got tighter and tighter as you felt like the room was getting smaller and smaller and hotter by the second.

“Now don't whine like I didn't offer to stretch ya’ good last night, but you threw salt at me, hmm.” The pointed tip of his tongue slipped around the ridges of your ear. “I think you are forgetting that you are dealing with a demon.”

And maybe you were. You were getting confused by his kindness and compassion, so maybe for a while you forgot he is a literal demon. Feeding from, or maybe feeding on, you.

“Distracted? Am I going too soft on you, angel?” Toru noticed how you leaned on the table with your elbows pressed on the surface for your life, but you seemed distracted. You were distracted from the meeting, from the way his hips pistoned upwards into you; you were thinking about something else, and he couldn't have that. You had to just sit there with your lips pressed together and sit there drenched in your cold sweat.

“Look up, sweets, won't you? Don't you wanna see how good I'm fucking you in front of all these people?” His hand gripped your throat, and at that point you were fully hunched over the table. All the while he thrust into your cunt with enough vigor to shake the entire table with you. His balls were basically slapping against your skin, and the tip of his cock was hitting places you did not think existed before.

“I’m gonna fucking cum inside you. Have you dripping with my cum all day? You'll like that, huh? walking around in public while m’cum fucking seeps out of you?” Toru leaned forward and pulled you back towards him by your throat. “But you have to keep it nice and warm inside of you.”

“F-fuc-k.” You muttered under your breath; you were about to orgasm in a meeting room at your office. But in this moment all you knew was that Toru was whispering shit in your ears, thrusting into your pussy, and you were about to cum all over him.

“C’mon, do it. Gush all over me like my good angel.” And like on his command, you came just like that. He bit down on your nape, and soon after came inside of you, like he promised. After he pulled out, he went and shoved everything that leaked out back inside of your pussy with two fingers and a kiss on your cheek.

“See ya’ later angel.” And like that, he was gone. And you were just left there drenched in your sweat and filled with his cum, sitting in your chair confused and scared.

“Are you ok, Ms. L/n!? I've been calling for you for the last 5 minutes.” Your boss asked from the end of the table. You were too scared to look up at him. While contemplating, your eyes landed on your shirt, perfectly buttoned just as it was, and your skirt was wrinkled the exact amount from this morning when you got off the train.

“Yes, sir, just feeling a little hot.” You do not know how you held yourself together to not stutter while replying to him while everyone in the room looked at you weirdly, except for Ms. Kasumi, who just looked concerned.

“Are you sure? Is your fever back? Do you want to step out for a bit?”

“It’s alright, sir; I'm perfectly alright.” You shook your head and told him you were just fine and took a sip of your water to cool down.

“Alright, if you say so.”

He nodded hesitantly and proceeded back to the meeting. As the meeting went on, even though you tried your best to focus on the contents of the presentation, all you could think about was one cunning demon and his cum pooling in your underwear.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT! HOW DARE YOU—WHAT IF—” You held the demon by his collar and shook him back and forth while he just giggled.

“It's ok, angel, they can't see anything.” You stopped in your tracks and pulled him closer to your face and squinted your eyes.

“elaborate.” He sighed and held your hands with his own. “They can't see me and therefore can't see anything I do to you unless I want them to.” You blinked at him, feeling somewhat at ease by his confirmation.

“Are you sure?” He nodded and kissed right under your left eye. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel at ease or something.” He giggled some more, and you couldn't help but stare at his blue eyes squinting as his lips stretched. “Yes, but I wouldn't lie to do that.”

“Says the demon.” You snorted incredulously as he snickered some more. But you felt fully at ease.

“You do know this opens up soooo many possibilities.” The demon slyly said while moving his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“You—” “Ms. L/n! Are you there?”

You got cut off by Ms. Kasumi while trying to curse out the demon some more for his suggestion. In a panic, you asked the demon to stay where he was, at the end of a hallway, in front of the elevator, and you walked towards Ms. Kasumi as fast as you could. When you got to her, she just immediately started asking if you were alright and if you needed to go back home.

“Are you sure you're ok?” She really genuinely looked worried.

With some reassurance, she was convinced by your pathetic excuse about the thermostat. Nonetheless, she still offered to take up some of your work and didn't take no for an answer. It was refreshing, really. Instead of people quietly putting more work on you because apparently you are more competent than them or some other excuse, even though they always have something to say behind your back, she wanted to take some load off your shoulders. It was new, but you appreciated that.

once you made sure Ms. Kasumi was gone, you walked back to where you left Toru. When you reached the end of the hall, you took a turn to find him standing in front of the elevator, looking like he was waiting for it to get here.

“What are you waiting for, the elevator or something?” You jokingly said as you went to stand beside him. And the demon, on the other hand, looked fully flabbergasted to see you. It was as if he was seeing you up close for the first time. Then he looked confused and just panicked. Like he was going through too many emotions at the same time. And it made you confused in return. Why is he acting like he didn't make you think that you were about to be on the verge of losing your life just an hour ago?

“Yeah—yeah. I am.”

His voice sounded different. Deeper than how he usually speaks with you, calmer as well, but not really calm in that phony way that you know all too well. You couldn't help but scrunch your eyebrows and mirror his confused expression.

“Mr. Gojo! I found the file!” Just as you were about to interrogate him some more, an exasperated and tired-looking man ran up to the demon with a bunch of files under his arm and one in his hand. ‘Mr. Gojo,’ that's what he called the demon, you know, as Toru. If you were suspicious and confused before, now you are panicking and confused. What was happening, and why did that name sound so famiiar?

“Yeah, this looks good.” Toru—or Mr. Gojo—looked through the file he was handed with a stern and serious expression that you've never seen on the demon. But what surprised you more was when he pulled his hands out of his pockets to grab the file, his hands were not the same glittery obsidian anymore. And that odd anomaly made you look around for his tail, which was also gone. When he turned towards you, who was too stunned and frozen in place to say anything, the elevator doors opened with a ding. ‘Mr. Gojo’ looked hesitantly between you and the elevator while the sickly-looking man, possibly his assistant, looked between you two. He opened and closed his mouth and then just walked inside the elevator with his assistant quickly following behind him.

“See you around, Ms. L/n.” That's all he said before the elevator doors closed between you two and he was gone.

What the fuck is happening?

In your entire supernatural life, you've never encountered anything stranger than this. He had the same cerulean blue eyes, the same shade of platinum white hair, the same features, and the same three-piece suit the demon was wearing this morning. How can there be a man who looked exactly like a demon. Or was the demon disguising himself as this man? But why would he do that? What was his motive? That was all you could think about while aimlessly walking through the hallway to get to your desk. You spent the rest of your day in a trance. Typing at your computer in a daze, making more mistakes than progress. That even your boss noticed. This was not how you work; he has seen you sick, and you always push through it. But he didn't want to pressure you with too many questions and just left you alone.

At the end of the day, Ms. Kasumi tagged you on your way out; she was talking about something. But you couldn't hear anything; you were wondering why the demon didn't show up since you saw his lookalike.

“You know, Ms. L/n, the new CEO is so gorgeous! I ran into him in the hallway today, and OMG, he is cooler than what the rumors say!”

“Mmhmm.”

You disinterestedly nodded along, wanting to get home as soon as possible and put this day behind you. But just as the elevator doors opened, there he was again, right in front of you.

“Hello, sir!” Ms. Kasumi bowed down in front of this, Mr. Gojo. Like he was an important figure, which you assumed by how he walked around with the amount of power exuding off of him.

“Oh—um, you don't have to bow.” He awkwardly shook his hands for Ms. Kasumi to stand straight back up again. All while his eyes remained trained on you, maintaining perfect eye contact. You weren't one to hold eyes with someone, but here you were, refusing to look away first, maybe to find any answers behind his cerulean eyes.

“I assume you are clocking out? Thank you for your hard work. Have a good night.” He smiled at you two, and his eyes finally wavered away from you. You could see a flush of red creeping up his neck under the dim lights of the lobby.

“Thank you, sir! You have a good night as well!” Ms. Kasumi enthusiastically said as you two stepped out of the elevator for Mr. Gojo to step in with his tired-looking assistant.

“If you'll excuse me, then.” Mr. Gojo nodded one last time at you two. Mr. Han walked ahead of you, but you still kept standing in front of the elevator, staring at him shamelessly. And before the doors could close between you two once again, he smiled at you, a smile that reached his eyes, and he looked exactly like the demon you've come to know in the last few weeks.

“Bye, Ms. L/n.”

This was definitely the same guy. There is no way they're two different individuals. They're somehow connected, and you do not know how, but you need to figure it out. As soon as possible.

“See! Like I said, he looks better up close!” Ms. Kasumi enthusiastically looked at you for your agreement while you two walked side by side up to the entrance of the building.

“Who?”

“The new CEO! Mr. Gojo! You are really out of it today, Ms. L/n; please get some rest when you get home.” Unfortunately for Ms. Kasumi, you tuned out everything she said after Mr. Gojo.

There is something weird going on right now. And you, honestly, have no idea what it is. You do not have any clue other than the fact that your new CEO and the sex demon you made a deal with look exactly the same and behave exactly the same and feel exactly the same, but not entirely. And it's giving you a headache. Whatever it is that is going on, you will get to the bottom of it.

But first, you need that damn demon to show up, who's made a mess of your already tiresome life.

PART TWO ⸻> soon!

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a/n: dividers by @/enchanthings-a & @/omi-resources. fanart by @/3-aem, lyrics info in image, and other one is just from Pinterest.

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