p i q u e r e z .

He shouldn't be here. The call sheet clearly showed Lamine Yamal's name the last time you checked it. And yet, the one receiving instructions about the session was someone else—him.

"Apparently there's been a change of plans", Alba announced from behind you.

Hiding your annoyance, you turned around with a smile to receive the new call sheet your agent was handing.

“Lamine Yamal was injured during the last game and is still undergoing treatment, so they changed the player”, Alba explained. “Otherwise, everything remains the same. I know it’s a sudden change, but you’ve dealt with bigger adjustments before…”

Her voice faded into the distance as you reread the name next to yours in the new planner: ‘Pedri González’.

The name brought back memories of those hot afternoons in high school in Tenerife. You'd see Pedri, always surrounded by his friends, playing football in the schoolyard. Unable to stop looking at him until you felt your heart would burst from your chest because, yes, maybe you'd had a tiny little crush on him.

It had been truly insignificant, just a foolish high school crush. The kind that made you forget words when you were in front of him, that made a silly smile spread across your face at the mere mention of his name, and that made you seek him out with any excuse to talk to him.

A crush who caused your first heartbreak. The guy you thought was a good friend turned out to be just another dumb boy.

You hadn't done it on purpose; just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Heading back to the classroom to drop off your sweater when you heard laughter coming from inside. The sound of your name making you stop dead in your tracks before heading back down the hall.

“You’re very close to her, aren’t you?” a voice asked.

You peeked out cautiously to get a better look at who was inside. Judging by how everyone was looking at Pedri, it seemed the question was directed at him.

“We’re just friends”, Pedri shrugged.

“But she likes you, it’s obvious”, another one chimed in.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, and cold sweat formed on your palms. You wanted to cover your ears and run, but masochistic curiosity made you stay and listen more closely.

“So?”

Laughter erupted after Pedri’s response; you didn’t understand what was so funny about the situation.

“Come on, Pedri, you’re not going to tell me you li—”

“Obviously not”, he interrupted quickly. The world seemed to stop at that moment, and you clutched the sweater in your hands. “I would never go out with her; it would be disgusting”.

Laughter erupted again; the conversation probably continued, but you couldn't hear it anymore because of the buzzing that settled in your mind. Tears quickly began to stream down your cheeks, and you ran to the bathroom for refuge.

You missed math class, but at that moment, everything seemed insignificant compared to the intense pain that overwhelmed you. You never imagined Pedri could be so cruel. It was one thing to say he didn't like you—obviously, that was going to sting—but it was quite another to proclaim that the thought of going out with you disgusted him; this was an ache.

Anger quickly overcame sadness. You began to ignore him, no longer out of shame, but because his presence bothered you. The words he had said echoed in your head every time he approached, and the glances you gave him, once gentle, were now harsh.

If he noticed the change, he never said anything; continuing acting as always. After all, you had never been that close.

It goes without saying that that tiny little crush vanished instantly. Which only made things easier when Pedri moved from Tenerife to Barcelona. To some extent, you were grateful for no longer feeling anything for him the last time you saw him, when he invited the group to his farewell party. Not even when he gave that long, unreadable look as you quickly said your goodbyes. If you were still the naive girl you once were, you would have sworn there was a hint of sadness there.

It also made navigating life easier when Pedri's fame reached stratospheric levels, and it was difficult to escape him anywhere. Especially when the modeling agency you had signed with forced you to move to Barcelona.

An unexpected side effect of heartbreak was that you began to develop without worrying about what others might say. You blossomed into what your agent called "a unique and wild flower amidst a multitude of buds" when she first saw you at a casting call. This was how you had started modeling five years earlier, with increasingly attractive jobs.

That's why, in this first campaign with Adidas to promote Spain's World Cup kit, you wanted everything to be perfect. But his unexpected presence threatened that perfection you were aiming for.

"The concept remains the same; they only modified a few poses", Alba explained, handing you the new brief for the shoot.

Taking a deep breath, you squashed the torrent of old feelings that threatened to rise to the surface. The crush, and subsequent heartbreak, you once experienced for Pedri were in the past. No longer being that awkward 15-year-old girl; now a professional model, capable of handling an encounter like this.

Once the makeup and wardrobe were ready, you and Alba headed to the shoot location. The excitement of the first big campaign helped to overcome the nervousness you felt about seeing Pedri again after so many years.

Greeting the team who were putting the finishing touches on everything, you entered the football field where the shoot would begin. In the first phase, there would be more models joining you.

“Here you are”, Willy, the creative director of the shoot, greeted as you walked in. “I’m so sorry for the sudden change of plans, but you know how it is. Even so, I’m thrilled to be working with you. I've only heard praise from Mau”, he said, gesturing to the photographer.

“I’m more than happy, and I’m also excited to be working on this campaign”.

“And our last piece has arrived…” Willy said excitedly.

Just as you were no longer an awkward teenager, neither was Pedri. He had grown; he was no longer the skinny, short boy you had known. His shoulders were broader, his skin was more tanned, and he had grown quite a bit. Despite that, his boyish gaze and mischievous smile remained unchanged.

You convinced yourself that the surprise of seeing this new version in person was what made your heart race, and not that, despite everything, the feelings of that 15-year-old girl were still there.

“Pedri, it’s a pleasure. Let me introduce you to your partner for today…” Willy said. An assistant approached him to say he needed help with some accessories and, with an apology, quickly left.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t need an introduction with you. I remember you perfectly”, he smiled shyly.

There were so many things you wanted to say to him at that moment, but you limited yourself to a curt, “Yes, I do too”.

Faced with the dry response, Pedri remained silent, bewildered. Tearing your gaze away from his attractive eyes and fixed it on your agent, who was on a phone call.

“I was so excited when I saw your name on the call-up sheet. We haven’t seen each other in quite a while”, he continued, trying to rekindle the conversation.

You simply responded with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes and looked away.

Did holding a grudge over something that had happened seven years ago make you immature? Yes. But was it satisfying to see the frustration on Pedri’s face as he tried to figure out why you weren’t responding the way he’d hoped? Also yes.

Finally, the first part of the session began. You let everything that wasn't related to the campaign slide off your mind and focused on giving your best. Willy directed everyone, giving them pointers at specific moments on things they could improve.

During that time, you felt Pedri's tension growing. He looked disappointed every time Willy or Mau corrected him on a pose more than once.

The break came, and no matter how hard you tried to hold it back, compassion surged through, finally prompting you to speak to him.

“They have a very specific vision and they want it fulfilled. We are merely the means to achieve it. So don't be discouraged, you're not doing anything wrong”, you reassured him.

“Easy for you to say, you haven't been corrected half as often as I have”, he muttered.

“Because this is my job, I’m in my element. If they put me in a football match, I’m sure I’d get a good scolding”, you joked.

Pedri laughed and his shoulders relaxed considerably. “It’s true, you’re the professional here. You make it look so easy that the rest of us look like fools in comparison”.

You smiled, simply because that's what any human being does when receiving a compliment, not because it came from Pedri. And certainly not because of the sparkle in his eyes when he said it.

You returned to the dressing rooms to change for the second part, which consisted solely of you two.

“Did you already know him?” Alba asked, handing you a bottle of water.

“We went to high school together”, you replied, seeing her and the makeup artist exchange a furtive glance. “What?” you asked, seeing their reaction.

“Nothing, it’s just… well, he seems interested”, Alba teased.

Choking on the sip of water you took, you quickly shook your head.

"You're crazy, there's no interest in anything with anyone", you coughed when you caught your breath.

"If you say so..." Alba crooned, which earned her a roll of your eyes.

The information swirled in your head as you prepared. If you were already nervous about being alone with him, this interaction only added to the tension.

Pedri was already in the goal when you arrived.

"Hello again", he greeted more confidently.

"Feeling better now?"

“Yes, your words helped me a lot”.

“Glad to hear that”.

Pedri fiddled with his fingers for a few seconds, his gaze nervous when he finally met yours.

“I was wondering if, as a thank you, I could invite you to lunch. Do you have anything planned after this?”

Of everything you expected, this was the last thing you imagined. The words triggered a flashback, bringing back the memories and the feelings they carried. Before you could stop it, you let out a bitter laugh.

“So, now I don’t disgust you, huh?”

Confusion crossed Pedri's face. "What are you talking about? You’ve never disgusted me".

You were about to drop the subject, but hearing him say that stopped you.

“Obviously you’re not going to remember. Why would you?” You crossed your arms. “But I do remember, even if you think it’s stupid and immature of me to do so”.

The memory must have hit him because regret flooded his face. He spoke your name gently. “…I’m so sorry. It’s true I said it, but I didn’t mean it. I can expl—”

“I don’t care about your explanations”, you cut him off. Seeing Mau and Willy approaching, you remembered the importance of maintaining perfection. “We have to get back to work”.

“We’re going to change a couple of things. The original idea was for you to be a little further apart, but we just found out you already knew each other, so we want to use that”, Willy explained. “So we’re going to explore that closeness more”.

You mentally prepared yourself to be the professional you were. Neither he nor anyone else was going to stop this from turning out exactly as you'd dreamed. Even so, you hadn't expected them to take the concept of 'exploring closeness' so literally.

While the original idea had placed you both in the same space, the focus was now on physical contact. The first photographs showed Pedri sitting on the grass with your head resting on one of his legs.

“Let’s try it the other way around,” Willy suggested after a few takes.

You sat up quickly and waited for his touch.

“Can I?” he asked shyly, gesturing to your legs. You were wearing shorts, so he would have to lie down on your bare leg.

You nodded quickly and looked away, ignoring the warmth his touch brought.

For the next take, Pedri lay down on the goal net, which they had tightened a bit so it wouldn’t sag so much, and you lay down on his chest as he put his arm around your shoulders.

Pedri's breathing was ragged, his body tense again. Mau and Willy spoke hurriedly, examining the photographs.

"Let's take a quick break. We hope to see you more relaxed when we get back, okay?" Willy said.

Sighing in frustration, you sat up. Perhaps it hadn't been the best time to air your teenage grudges.

"Wait", Pedri stopped you before you could walk away. "Can we talk?"

Clearing things up was best for the session to proceed smoothly, so you agreed.

“I was an idiot”, Pedri admitted after walking in silence for a few seconds. “I don’t know… Actually, I do know why I did it. I… I liked you, but I didn’t want my friends to find out and tease me about it. So I said that on impulse to protect myself. But I know it was wrong, and I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you”.

The statement left you stunned. For starters, did Pedri like you too? You felt your face flush and kept your gaze fixed straight ahead.

“Now I understand why you suddenly distanced yourself”, he murmured. “God… my mind was truly clouded by nothing but football at that time”.

“Did you notice that?” you asked.

“Of course, you stopped seeking me out to ask me things I didn’t know either, but I pretended to so you’d keep talking to me”, he said with a half-smile.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I thought I’d clear everything up at my going-away party, but you left before I had the courage. Everything happened so fast after that, and I never knew how to approach you again. Until I was offered this session, and I said yes as soon as I saw your name in the brief”.

As you reached the other side of the field, the air was a little lighter than before.

“I don’t think you’re immature for still thinking about it. It must have felt awful to hear me say that”, Pedri murmured, stopping. “I’m really sorry.”

You turned to look at him, this time with less coldness.

“Okay, I accept your apology”, you finally sighed. You felt that crack in your heart could finally heal completely.

Pedri’s face lit up with relief, and his smile shone for a moment. He swallowed nervously before speaking again. “Is it too soon to extend my invitation to lunch after the session? I don’t want to miss the opportunity again”.

The butterflies in your stomach returned and were swirling around. “Sure, I’d like to”.

More relaxed, you started walking back.

“So… can we talk about how you liked me too?” he asked playfully.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Sure”.

Resuming the shoot with the newfound ease you both felt was easy. The fluidity with which you posed and complemented each other revived Willy and Mau's spirits.

"That was great", Alba congratulated you in the dressing room for changing. "They were thrilled; they'll definitely call you for future campaigns".

Smiling contentedly, you hugged her and began to change while she reminded you of your commitments for the rest of the week. A knock on the door interrupted her.

“Ready?” Pedri asked from the other side when you opened it.

“Yes”, you turned to see Alba, who had a mischievous look. “I’m going to lunch with Pedri, see you later.”

“Have fun”, she waved goodbye with a smile and an expression that screamed, ‘You have to fill me in later’.

“I will”, you assured her.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The campaign was a huge success, adorning billboards across Spain and catapulting your career to new heights. Pride and excitement still surged through you when you walked past one.

After the first lunch, there was a second, then a third, until Pedri declared that he would like all mealtimes to be with you. The next three months passed with more dates, laughter, and a couple of scares from the paparazzi, who seemed to appear at the most inopportune moments. Fans on social media also began to follow the clues, and before long they had a timeline that no longer started with the photo shoot, but went back to the high school days.

«so they already knew each other but weren't dating?»

«The chemistry is undeniable in the campaign photos, maybe they are»

«they were probably just friends until now»

«all I ask is that they are dating because they are PERFECT together»

«If we see her at the World Cup wearing his jersey, that'll be all the confirmation we need»

“You look gorgeous. I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate on the game if I see you like that from the stands”, Pedri said, hugging you from behind and placing a soft kiss on your neck.

You put your phone down on the hotel table and turned around to get a better look.

“I know you’ll do great”.

“Only because I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world supporting me”, he purred, caressing your cheek. “I'd already seen you in the Spain kit, but my jersey fits you perfectly".

A constant since you started dating was the compliments. Every chance he got, Pedri showered you with them.

“And I have the most talented boyfriend”.

Pedri closed the distance with a gentle kiss. An act you never thought could happen, not even in your wildest dreams, and yet, it did.

The first fifteen minutes were tedious. It was offside after offside, corners and concedes, missed, blocked, and saved attempts everywhere. You could see Pedri’s father on the other side of you out of your peripheral; face contorting in a slight pain when Marc had fouled. Then from the centre of the box, Ivan Romero stepped up, right foot gliding the ball right into the bottom left corner. 

Levante, one. Barça, zero.  

“¡Uy!” Fer exclaimed with a small sigh, shaking his head.  

You chuckled softly, receiving a pointed look in return. “I don’t know why you worry,” you murmured, looking back at the field, spotting those flushed cheeks instantly. “Everything will be fine.” 

Fer stared at you for a beat before parting his lips. “You and him... one of you need to be more nervous, seriously,” he muttered, huffing with amusement. 

Thirty minutes in, your team had delayed, making Pedri’s father leg bounce. You cleared your throat, slightly unsettled. Barça had this. Everything was going to be fine.  

Time passed a bit more and Pedri was about to shoot from outside of the box but good old Pablo Campos, Levante’s goalkeeper, had done his job. You could physically hear the palms of his family hit their forehead. You had even found yourself sighing.  

Your mood began to fall by the following foul, a handball, and another damn foul. This was the part of the game where you and Fer began to delude yourselves. Should you just go down there yourselves? You could totally do it. A kick to Fer and another to Pedri... it would be in the goal in no time.  

You blinked blankly at the yellow card soon flickered towards Alejandro, shaking your head. This was such bullshit, you thought. You could feel yourself dig deeper into your seat, wincing when Pedri rolled over. Eyes closed when Ferran slid. Groaning as Levante took a VAR. took their second goal. Hands on your face when a penalty kick turned into their second goal, closing the first half. God, was the nightmare ever going to end? 

You looked over to Pedri from the stands. You couldn’t understand how he was still so calm. You could see the cogs in his mind turning, cautious of every second, every moment in his peripheral. You breathed out lowly. If he was calm, you needed to be calm too.  

Soon enough, the second half begun, Gavi and Dani making their entrances. It was some of the same. Fouls and corners. But then something magical happened. Lamine had kicked the ball over to Pedri and with a few swift shuffles and one harsh kick, it lands in the goal.  

Barça, one.  

You, Fer, and his father stand on your feet immediately, cheering and grinning as Pedri turned your way, hands circling around his eyes, paying homage to his father. You laughed, clapping your hands, not missing the lingering smile from Pedri’s face.  

That’s all it took for the tide to change.  

Because only minutes later, Ferran had put another one. Barça, two. And all it took after that was a damn own goal from Levante. The stadium roared for Barça’s second win, and you smiled at the brown eyes peering at you, sending a small kiss into the air. 

Sooner or later, Pedri had been named the MVP of the match, which naturally you were proud of. Even if he hadn’t, he was definitely yours. 

You stayed put as Fer and his father greeted Pedri, patting his back as they congratulated him. You liked watching this moment from afar. Where everyone he loved came around him. It created this flare in your heart that left you feeling warm.  

It was only Pedri who was very mildly annoyed by it. Because even as everyone chatted him up, it was you his eyes were on. That’s why he had pushed away his family, letting them fall into their own conversations as he instantly walked towards you with his arms open, bringing you into a tight hug. 

You laughed softly against his ear, hand crawling into his hair, soothing the hum in his chest. He had been waiting the entire game for this. “My MVP,” you teased, pressing a kiss into the side of his face before you pulled away. 

Pedri’s lips jutted out, pouting slightly. “You’re not going to give me anything more?” He queried, brown eyes falling to your lips, watching them tug upwards in amusement.  

You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “You should try guess what colour I’m wearing underneath these clothes.” 

He stilled, blinking blankly, lips parting in disbelief as he processed your words. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, hiding the curses underneath his breath, a white noise obliterating all the sounds around him. “Why would you... why would you say that to me?” He groaned quietly, brain already trying to guess. “B-Blue? Or white?” He asked, inching towards you, eyes big and wide. 

You only grinned, shaking your head as you patted his cheek. “Have a little patience, cariño. Fer’s talking about having dinner on the way back.” 

Pedri’s face dropped. “You’re joking,” he flatly said. The ride back to Barcelona was around three hours. A dinner for his family easily lasted two hours with everyone talking for most of it. With the slowly growing need in his groin, he didn’t think m he could wait that long. He gnawed on his lip before blinking, a small smile making its way onto his face.  

You furrowed your brows. “Pedri... I don’t like that look,” you murmured.  

“What look?” He asked, turning towards his brother and father. He smiled innocently, clasping his hands. A feigned yawn fell from his lips. “Hey, I was thinking,” he said, adding another yawn, now stretching his arms. “I would go back to our apartment m to rest. I’m really tired. Today wasn’t easy. And ___ came with her car, so.” 

Your mouth fell open at the lie. That little shit! 

His father, ever the kindest, nodded in agreement. “That’s a good idea, hijo. Make sure you eat, hmm?” He said, making his son nod.  

Fer just patted his shoulder after spotting your narrowed eyes, leaning to his ear. “Eres un mentiroso de mierda,” he muttered, grinning ear to ear as he took a step next to his father. You are so full of shit. 

Pedri only smiled dryly, grabbing your hand with his, leaving the both of you waving goodbye to his family. You let yourselves get a few metres away before you hit his arm lightly, eliciting a hiss from his lips, rubbing his arm. “Ow! What was that for?” 

You gave him a raised brow. “You know,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. 

The ride to your apartment was still long. It was in Barcelona, for crying out loud. You thought Pedri would’ve fallen asleep after the day he had. But no. He was wide awake in the passenger seat, staring out the window as you drove.  

“What’s going on in your head, cariño?” You queried, taking a quick glance. You figured he was still running the plays in his head. All the moments he could’ve improved. Where he could’ve done better. He was like that. His brain never really turned off.  

“Purple.” 

You furrowed your brows, eyes on the road. “What?” 

“Under your clothes. It’s purple, right?” He queried, turning to his head, waiting for your answer.  

You tightened your hands on the wheel, letting out a strained laugh. “And here I thought you were being all sweet and mindful over there,” you sighed, taking the next right to your apartment.  

Pedri shook head, smiling lightly, teeth gnawing on his finger as he leaned on the window. “You don’t want to know what I've been thinking over here.”

“Oh?” You hummed, head tilting as you pulled into the parking, gently decelerating before you pressed on the brake, stopping the car, and turning the engine off. “Do tell,” you huffed, opening the door to leave. You could hear his footsteps near you, meeting you on the other side. You grinned as he caged you on your door, hands on either side of you, face just inches away from you, the musk of the field and his cologne lingering around you.  

“I could show you,” he murmured, lips so close you could feel his hot breath fawn over you as a cheeky grin sprawled over his face. You could feel him press up against you, burning body against yours, bulge aching in his shorts.  

You chuckled, fingers sliding under his chin. “Maybe some other day, pretty boy. Today…you’re my MVP,” you whispered. “So, let’s go up and show you how you should be treated.” 

Pedri groaned to himself, letting you slip past his arms, inching towards the elevator. The ride up to your apartment as him leaning on the wall, lips pouting as he stared at the floor numbers, counting every one of them down while you smiled discreetly. He could only think, God, this was taking forever.  

The silence was palpable from the walk between the elevator to your door. You could feel those beautiful brown eyes bore into the back of your head, feet dragging only inches away from you like he was your ghost as you unlocked the door.  

You stifled a laugh as Pedri rushed to take off his shoes, standing there and waiting as you oh so slowly did the same. You sighed dramatically, putting your purse aside, making your way to the bedroom, hearing his clamber to follow after you. You gently turned towards him, back facing the bed. You tilted your head, watching the way his eyes followed you. You smiled again, knees bending slightly so you could pat the mattress. "Take a seat, pretty boy." 

Pedri swallowed thickly, doing just that. He sat on the mattress, feeling it dip lightly underneath him, hands twitching at his side to do something — anything. He watched carefully at your eyelashes fluttered at him, making his heart race a bit faster than usual. His eyes dropped to your fingers which teased the waistband of your trousers, leaving his head stretching to get even a glimpse of the mystery colour. But the small snap of the elastic kept him guessing.  

"Cariño," he mumbled under his breath, eyes pleading as he looked at you, removing his shirt with one tug. He could hear you chuckle softly, the sound soothing eliciting a hum from his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath when you slowly sunk to your knees, pretty face looking up at him while your hands inched towards his shorts, making the hairs on his body stand up. In one swift move, you tugged them down with his boxers. And as the thin fabric disappeared, his thighs flexed, leaving the straining length of him on display—thick and needy, already leaking profusely from the head.  

You underestimated him. God knows what he was thinking in the car.  

For a beat, Pedri debated on calling your name, a begging plea already on the tip of his tongue because the way you looked at him made his cock twitch. But just as your head leaned in and your mouth closed over him eagerly, the air deep from his lungs began to curl and leave in one breath. His head lightly tipped back, fingers digging into the edges of the mattress, jaw slackening.  

You took him in slowly, hollowing your cheeks, hand wrapping around the parts of his shaft your mouth couldn't reach. The sight of you in his official shirt alone made him stomach tighten and coil, every flick and swirl of your tongue dragging out a groan.  

"Mierda," he rasped as his hand found the back of your head, touch gentle in his guiding control. All of that cheekiness he had been giving you had disappeared in an instant. His voice was unrecognisable, rough and reverent. "Treat me so well. So good, just like that," he praised.  

His breath caught as the hum from your throat wrapped a small wave of vibration around him. His pretty brown eyes were hooded, half-lidded, every fibre of his composed demeanour from the field threatened with your every movement, clutching onto your mouth's pulsing tempo, short sucks making him jolt. 

Pedri couldn't help but lay flat on the mattress, thigh muscles flexing tightly, chest heaving with his stuttered breath. And on your knees, your hands travelled across his thighs, fingernail grazing his skin, sending shivers down his body as your mouth stretched around in a way that almost undid him right there and then.  

Your lips dragged up his shaft, barely inches away from his head when you whispered, "You did so well today."  

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip when your tongue darted out, teasing his slit. "My MVP," you murmured, proud chuckles soft as it wavered over him, tingling his very being.  

Pedri leaned back up, gasping, brown eyes falling to you and your swollen lips skimming his tip. His hand returned to the back of your head, threatening to push himself past your lips, restraint beginning to thin. He stared at you for a beat, lips parted. "Can I?" 

You smiled to yourself. Of course, he'd still ask. "You're my winner, cariño. Do whatever you want." 

Pedri moved with a care that held no caution or hesitation. His hips rolled slow with purpose, pushing himself into your mouth. The obscene lewd squelches, wet and sloppy, began to fill the room. His eyes fell to your throat, watching you try to accommodate him. Then he looked at your face, glassy gaze filled with tears at the brim, making your lashes stick, spit seeping from the corners of your mouth—God, you looked unreal. Each small gag had him dragging himself out of you, only a little bit, before he grunted and rolled back in with a rougher force.  

"Special treatment," he huffed out, groaning as he watched your saliva coat his length. "All for an MVP? Should start winning it more often." 

Your fingers dug into his thighs, throat on the verge of being bruised as he sped up his pace. But you took all of it, wetness between your legs only growing bigger with every passing second. The tightened grip on your head told you everything you needed to know. He was close. So goddamn close.  

Pedri pulled out of you at the very last second, jaw taut, teeth gritted. His chest heaved, heavy, deep breaths falling from his lips. He looked down at you; cheeks flushed with that same pink from the field. His hand travelled under your chin, gently pulling you up to him, lips inches away from yours. "I want to feel you," he breathed, swallowing hard.  

You bit your lip at the pulse between your thighs. You smiled slowly. "Thought you'd never ask." 

His breath caught again as you stepped back, finally removing your trousers, revealing the maroon lace wrapped around your lower half. The sight of it instantly pulled out a groan from his lip. Maroon. Goddamn maroon. Fuck. And you had been wearing that all night? In that stadium as you watched him play. Were you trying to kill him? 

His hand slowly reached out, tugging under his shirt you wore, your bare skin exposed to confirm what he was guessing. His lips parted at the maroon lace hugging your breasts. Yup. A matching set. "Joder," he swore, brown eyes looking at you instantly. "Keep it like this. I want you like this." 

You shuddered at the reverent tone, rough and firm. You nodded, feeling his arm wrap around your waist, bringing you close against him. You sucked in a sharp breath as his hand roamed your bare side of your thigh, finger slipping underneath the hem of your panties, moving but never inching close to the heat between your legs, teasing.  

"You look so beautiful, amor. My shirt, my name, my number," he whispered, lips attaching to your neck, sucking gently, making your hand curl into the back of his hair. "All perfectly mine." 

You hummed, lashes fluttering. "This was supposed to be about you, cariño," you murmured, catching his eyes as he pulled away.  

He grinned lightly, same boxy smile you had found yourself falling in love with easily. "Everything about you is me," he simply said.  

Before you could even respond, his two fingers pushed past the hem of your panties, moving to your folds to gather all the slick you had built up, making you gasp as he softly thumbed your clit. 

"This all for me?" He queried, eyes trained on your expression, entranced at the way your lips parted, and a warm flush scattered over your skin. He chuckled at your frantic nod, please with your answer. He pushed his fingers into you, stretching your walls. You moaned as he withdrew his fingers back before thrusting it back in again, setting a new rhythm for your pussy to learn.  

Your hand fell to his shoulder, sinking your nails into his bare skin as he began to speed up, wet squelches only becoming louder throughout your bedroom. "Fuck, Pedri," you mewled, hips impatiently grinding against his fingers.  

Pedri could feel you tighten around the ridges of his fingers, soft walls sucking him in further, leaving his length still throbbing and aching from curbing his orgasm. He breathed out, swallowing hard as he tried to keep his composure. He focused on pushing his fingers deeper, twisting them so they hooked up, rubbing that perfect spot smoothly. 

"Mierda" you cried out, head falling to look at him. "Pedri, please. Give me more," you begged.  

He chuckled, voice strained as he spoke. "Tell me what you want," he murmured, ears needing to hear the manifestation of your desperation, fingers speeding up even faster 

"I need your cock. Please, please, please—ngh!" You moaned, breath stuttering at the pleasure building up in your core.  

Pedri smiled in satisfaction, mostly relieved because he couldn't wait any longer either. He pulled out his fingers, keeping your panties to the side, aligning your body with his. He flickered his eyes to you, carefully taking you in as he slowly pushed himself into you, sinking himself into your walls that hugged him tightly.  

The need flooded through him like a broken dam—sharp, sudden, and unrelenting. He drove into you, hands falling to your waist, maroon panties digging into the side of your thigh as he held you close to him, hips moving up. Each thrust of his was harder than the one before, rewarding your desire and his impatience.  

"That's it," you moaned, eyes rolling at the full feeling in your core. "Fuck me like an MVP, mi amor." 

A choked whimper fell from your lips as you could see Pedri's jaw clench at your words, eyes still trained on you. He couldn't explain it. But you had the most simplest of ways to undo him. Like your very breath would make him fall apart. It made his chest warm, setting of a deep flare that made his heart ache.  

"Fuck, cariño," he groaned out, continuing to craft his rhythm, hips snapping into you with a such certainty that your bed had begun creaking underneath you.  

Pedri's fingers dug into your waist tight when he felt you shift against him, pressing your body further into him, letting him feel every crevice and depth of you. Your walls clenched around his cock, drawling a hiss from the base of his throat. He couldn't take his eyes off you. No. Your swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and half-lidded eyes that couldn’t decide whether to stay open or close at the sheer pleasure running through your body…God, it made his stomach churn.  

"Your MVP," he grunted, husky and rough as each thrust of his hips undid you. "I'm your—" he dragged himself nearly all the way out of you before sinking back into your walls, groaning at your clench around him. "—winner. Yours."  

The whimpers fell from your lips uncontrollably, thighs trembling over his hips. Your head fell forward, hitting his shoulder lightly, his body heat pouring into your skin. "Pedri." 

"Look at you," Pedri rasped, leaning up to sloppily kiss your neck, swollen lips nibbling away at your skin, hips still snapping up into you. "You're so beautiful and you have no idea how much," he moaned, watching the way your waist spilled past his fingers, your panties dug into your thigh, his shirt half tugged up with his other hand, giving him another peak of that maroon wrapped around your breasts. God.... 

His breath had become ragged and harsh as if he had forgotten how to breathe, words falling apart between each thrust as you sobbed at his words, body tightening around him. "Come for me, cariño. Show me how good an MVP makes you feel," he huffed. 

The pressure in your core began to build quick, your body lurching against him as he snapped his hips up, cock driving into your tight walls. Any words that fell from your lips made no sense. Slurred words... babbles. But Pedri gladly took them all, music to his ears. His movements were intentional, coaxing the tight coiled tension in your core until it burst. 

Your lips parted; a silent moan that wrapped around the numbing pleasure that made you want to scream as your body locked around him, pussy pulsing and dragging every wave of euphoria against him, hips grinding forward to make it as long as possible. 

Pedri felt the rush building in his cock, the urgent pleasure making him feel heavy in your walls. Every clench and tremor of your body had made him crazy. He sunk into you one last time, memorising the shake of your thighs, your heaving chest, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips before collapsing under your grip around him.  

At the least second, he groaned, pulling himself out of you, watching your head lean towards his lap. His stomach tightened at the sight of your lips parting, taut abdomen clenching as he wrapped his hand around his shaft, fisting his slick covered cock until he spilled into your mouth, leaving a tasteful claim of him in you.  

Those pretty brown eyes fell back to you; breath still ragged and harsh, breathing hard to catch any sliver of air to ground him, sweat clinging to his skin. He groaned at the sight of you cleaning the edges of your mouth, hand reaching for your jaw to bringing you into a tight, deep kiss.  

He shifted after a few seconds, pulling away just a smidge, forehead resting on yours. "Bien?" Pedri asked, hand gently caressing your face, tucking your hair behind your ears. 

You smiled softly. "Perfecto," you responded back, leaning into his touch.  

He let out a low breath, chuckling softly, looking over you gently like he was still trying to memorise you. "I should try for MVP more often, hmm?"  

You pursed your lips, slowly beginning to grin. "You know I was wearing this anyways, right?" You retorted, voice teasing.  

"To torture me?" Pedri queried with narrowed eyes, corners of his mouth still tugging up as he brought you closer to him, letting you sit over his lap, heart racing as you hung your hands loosely over his neck. 

You smiled, feeling his fingers tighten around your waist at the action. "Exactly." 

You watched Pedri shift uncomfortably in his chair for the third time that evening, letting out an annoyed sigh, hands tightly on his lap. Slowly peeling away from the conversation, you inched towards your boyfriend and took a seat next to him.

You put a hand on his own, looking at him concerned. "Pedri... are you okay?"

Pedri flickered his eyes to your hand and back to your face. He pursed his lips, swallowing hard. "I... I don't know," he mumbled, cheeks flushing, "I feel... weird."

"Weird?" You raised a brow, worrying growing in your chest. "Did you drink anything someone gave you?"

"Raphinha," Pedri muttered, looking over at the drinks menu, "he got me a mocktail... uh– the Lucky Five?"

You mended your brows, reaching for the menu. Flickering through the pages, you scanned for the familiar name.

Ah. There it was. The only mocktail on the list.

The Lucky Five. Made with fresh strawberries, fresh basil leaves, honey, lemon juice, and sparkling water. The perfect five ingredients for an aphrodisiac mocktail made from nature!

"Joder," you swore under your breath, closing the menu quickly.

Pedri leaned towards you, breathing in your sweet scent. "What's wrong?"

You gulped, feeling the warm heat of his body immediately. "I– how much of these have you had, Pedro?"

He frowned at the use of his full name. He blinked, scavenging his brain. He stuck out his hand. "Uh... two–no three! Sí, three. Why?"

Oh Christ.

You rubbed your face tiredly. "Aphrodisiacs. It's a natural aphrodisiac drink. The only mocktail on the damn menu and you've had three," you whispered, skin warming with every passing second.

Pedri looked at you blankly, registering your words. Oh? Oh.

Why had your words only made him feel hotter?

You chewed your lip cautiously, taking a seat next to him. You lifted your hand to check his face for any signs. "H-How do you feel right now?" You queried.

"Hot. My skin burns," he mumbled, moving his face to rest his cheek in your hand. He hummed to himself quietly. "Your touch isn't making it better."

You quickly removed your hand and sighed, wondering what you should do. It would be strange to go home right now. Everyone was enjoying themselves. You didn't really want to ruin the mood. You eyed his pink cheeks and said, "It's gonna take a while to wear off. Do you wanna go wash your face? Help you cool down?"

Pedri silently nodded, feeling you grab his hand as he stood up from his chair. You gave everyone small smiles, venturing through the venue to find the nearest bathroom. Of course, they had been occupied. You looked over at the secluded pool room that was under going some decorations. Surely they had one in there.

"Come on." You tugged Pedri, suggesting for him to follow you while you went down the small corridor and opened the door. The room itself was empty, pool tables barren and untouched, chairs stacked and covered. And right in the corner was the door to the bathroom.

Opening the bathroom door, you turned on the light, making Pedri blink rapidly and letting you get a better view of how much he was burning up. He was sweating from his eyebrows, a drop rolling down cheek and under his chin. He wasn't kidding... he was hot.

You sighed, moving to turn on the tap. As you did so, you could feel his arms wrap around your waist, back nearing his chest while he tucked his chin into your neck. "Pedri," you warned, eyes flickering through the mirror while you tested the water's temperature.

"Por favor," Pedri begged, voice strained and brown eyes fiery as he looked at you through the mirror. His grip around you tightened, letting you feel his large bulge press up against your ass. "I feel so... I need..." he panted, unable to finish his words as he ground his hips, moving his clothed cock for some desperately needed fiction.

You closed the tap, hands moving around the edges of the sink before gripping them. You shuddered at the quiet whimpers passing his lips, a burning spark blooming at the pit of your stomach. "Pedri, we- we can't," you stuttered, voice getting choked.

"Please," he pleaded again, hand moving to rub circles on your lower stomach, "I've been thinking about this dress since we left the house. And the drink hasn't made it any better. I was thinking about palming myself there under the table."

His admission made you moan quietly, eyes fluttering shut as you imagined it. Him sitting at the table, skin burning, lost, hand over his bulge, cock twitching while he pressed down, hoping the fabric of his pants was enough to get him off because he was just that desperate.

"I think I would've come in my pants like a virgin," he groaned, lips sloppily pressed on your neck, softly sucking your skin while moving his hips into you. His voice sounded absolutely wrecked. As if the drink was causing him physical pain.

You clenched your thighs together, opening your eyes once again. He wasn't helping you one bit. If anything, his words were your aphrodisiac. "Pedri..."

"No one's here," Pedri swallowed thickly, turning you around. His hand flung to your jaw, holding your chin so you looked at him directly. The words spilled from him like liquid, uncontrollable and with no particular intention. "Please, mi cariño, let me fuck you. Let me use you. You know I'll make you feel so so good."

You shivered at the swipe of his thumb on your bottom lip while he waited for an answer. You slowly nodded, giving into the ache between your legs. "Fóllame." Fuck me.

A grunt fell from Pedri's lips as he quickly reached for the belt wrapped around his waistband, frantically undoing the buckle and shifting down his pants and boxers. He whined, letting his cock spring free, the cold air of the bathroom practically teasing him.

Your jaw went slack. It was usually a beauty, his cock. Had all these pretty veins on the underside that your throat had memorised. Thick and filling. But today it unusually pretty today. So red and angry. Pre-cum profusely leaking from his tip.

"Dios mío," you called out to the sky. Although you weren't sure God would be able to save you from this.

Pedri sucked in a sharp breath and bent down, bunching up the bottom of your dress, revealing your underwear and the growing damp spot between your thighs. He held his breath momentarily, finger gently prying the fabric to the side. "Joder," he swore, the heat intensely increasing in his body.

He couldn't believe you were warning him just minutes ago to not touch you. You were dripping for him. The slick was smeared on your thighs, pooling. "Look at you," he laughed, the sound darker and menacing while he shook his head. A squeal left your lips when he grabbed your ass. "All this denial and you're this fucking wet? You can't even imagine to begin how I'm feeling, cariño."

"In this dress... teasing me all night and pretending you didn't want me to fuck you before we left the house," Pedri sighed, bending down. He could smell you. Sweet yet a bit earthy. Divine. He pressed his lips on your thigh, his hand on the other while he left a trail of kisses as he creeped up, stopping at the band of your underwear. His teeth clasped around the material, pulling it down your legs to rest at your feet.

Pedri leaned back up, jaw clenching and chest heaving as he rubbed his pre-cum down his shaft. His eyes fluttered shut. This drink had him by the balls. He reeled himself in, looking at you once again before aligning his cock with your pussy, his free hand lifting your thigh against him.

He watched his cock slowly rub against your folds, your arousal coating him and pulling him. God you were so warm. But against the heat of his cock, it was nothing. He was unhealthily hot. He shuddered, feeling your body vibrate as the tip of his head nudged your clit.

His hand held your chin again, touch still gentle despite the dark look swirling in the those lust-ridden eyes. He stared at you. "Say it again," he said.

You didn't need to ask him what.

"Fóllame."

That was enough. Pedri didn't bother to waste anymore time, pushing his cock in cock into your hot cunt. He groaned loudly, unable to keep it in, eyes closing for a moment. Fuck, you felt so good. He felt broken and raw, sinking more and more of himself into you.

You whimpered as he pulled out before thrusting back in. Your hands had found the edge of the sink once again, knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping. "¡Dios mío!" You cried out, feeling the air from your lungs evaporate in an instant.

"Not God, cariño," Pedri grunted, beginning to snap his hips against you, moans becoming louder, mixing in with the sound of his cock plunging into you. "Just me."

"Pedri!" You sobbed out, gasping for air, one hand moving to his neck and then to his jaw. You didn't even know what to say. His cock just felt surreal. His stamina was always high. When he wanted to, he'd be fast. And other times, he'd be slow. But this... this was insane. You could feel him everywhere. So deep. You could swear his cock was in your stomach.

Your mouth fell open, both your eyes locking as his thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in small, tight circles. You could feel your stomach tighten. Pedri rasped, "Soak my cock. Come for me."

It was only second laters where the pleasure ripped through you in sharp waves. Your body shook against him, back arching off the sink while the walls of your pussy squeezed his cock so tightly that a few more thrusts had Pedri faltering, hot spurts of his cum spilling into you.

Your chest heaved while you attempted to catch your breath. But Pedri couldn't stop. These damn aphrodisiacs had taken ahold of him, cock still slowly moving in you before coming to a halt. He was still twitching inside you, pulsing like he needed more while you stood, reeling in from your orgasm.

Holy fuck. He was still hard.

Your body trembled when he rolled his hips again, the small and short movement blurring the line between pain and pleasure.

"Pedri," you whimpered, clit throbbing at the overstimulation.

"Cariño," he moaned quietly against you lips before bringing you into a deep kiss. "One more for me? Please?" He queried, looking into your glassed eyes.

You nodded with a mewl falling from your lips. God, you were so sensitive. Your cunt was puffy and dripping with his cum. Your clit swollen. You could feel Pedri pull you closer to him, pushing his cock further into you.

His hips started to snap again, thrusting in and out of you at a relentless pace. Your pussy betrayed you, still pulsing and clenching around him like you needed to unravel all over again.

Pedri laughed quietly, the sound mixed with a moan. "So sensitive but you're still gripping my cock like you want to come again. Should I let you?" He queried, nudging your chin so you looked at him while he drilled into you.

He was so deep in you, you could feel his balls slap against you, his cock still somehow hard in your pussy. He was right. It felt so fucking good. You couldn't answer him. You had lost your ability to speak for crying out loud. The sounds and syllables falling from your mouth were as if you were learning how to speak for the first time. Babbles and gasps for air.

And all it did was turn Pedri on.

His hand reached between your thighs once again, finding your swollen clit with ease. Your body lurched at the action, a small yelp falling from your lips. "Pedri, no," you cried out, pleasure and pain beginning to cloud your brain.

Pedri chuckled softly, lips moving to your neck, sucking on your skin again while he rubbed your clit. Marking you with purple love letters. "Come on. Come for me," he commanded, hips fucking into you even faster.

And you did. Your body shattered as the orgasm rolled over you. Your walls clenched around him once more like a vice, his cum spilling into you again while you milked every last drop of his, Pedri's moans filling your ears.

You opened your eyes, not even realising you had closed them to begin with. Your breathed heavily, looking at Pedri's face shine with sweat, cheeks even more flushed than he was on the field, his hair sticking to his skin.

His body slumped slightly, cock finally softening a bit inside you after a few minutes passed. "Fuck," he breathed, pulling out gently as you winced at the loss.

Pedri rested his forehead on yours, hand reaching to caress your cheek. "Too much?" He asked softly.

You shook your head and smiled lightly. "No," you chewed your lips, "Feeling better?"

Pedri squinted, pondering slightly. "Ask me in a few hours when we're in bed," he grinned, tucking your hair behind your ears.

You rolled your eyes even though you could've sworn you had seen his cock twitch at the idea. "We should probably get back out there," you hummed, tugging on his collar. "This time let me wash your face without trying get in my pants," you teased.

The next you started off simple. It's breakfast. You were up before Pedri is, nothing too unusual. You liked making him breakfast before he left for practice. It was small but domestic enough to remind you that at the end of the day, it was always you and him.

The sun was as early as you, peeking loudly through the window, warm and soft, casting bright lines across the house, as you stood in the kitchen cutting into some of the fresh strawberries you had planted in only his t-shirt and nothing else.

You hadn't heard Pedri walk in from your bedroom. He was always so quite with his movements. Like a little mouse. He was barefoot, inching behind you to wrap his arms circling around your waist.

"Good morning," you greeted softly.

Pedri hummed back in return, big brown eyes travelling over your body, a slight mix of confusion and torment splashed across his face. "Why do you always wear my shirts like that?" He mumbled into your shoulder, head tucked into your neck as he waved off the sleep and husk in his voice.

A chuckle fell from your lips. "Like what?" You queried, grouping your cut strawberries into a bowl.

Pedri huffed, hot breath fawning over your shoulder. "Like you want me to suffer... asking for trouble."

You only shrugged, looking over at the clothing line through the kitchen window which held the laundry you had done this morning. "My clothes are still drying."

Pedri rolled his eyes, shaking his head lightly as he chuckled – the sound vibrating through your body. "And you just had to do that today?"

You hummed in response, continuing to lean over and cut up an apple.

He laughed again, quieter. If he knew anything, he didn't let on. Instead his hand brushed rested at the side of your leg, grazing your bare thigh where the hem of his shirt fell. He pulled it up slowly, letting his touch linger as he paused, remembering the deal you had made, and pulled it back down.

Pedri sighed quietly, disappointed, lips lightly brushing past your ear, enjoying the way you shivered at his touch. "I'm going to get ready.

You grinned to yourself before composing a neutral expression. "Okay."

Movie nights with Pedri were always cosy. One of the few times in the week where he wasn't thinking about football but thinking about the fact that he was here with you and he'd pretend to fight over what to watch – only for him to give into your pout and puppy eyes.

But tonight, things were a bit different...

Look, you were always touchy. And it was always with innocent intentions when you were curled up together on the couch, all the lights in the house dimmed. You were as calm as you usually were, cheek pressed into Pedri's arm as you held him close to you, the other hand tracing soft swirls along the bare skin of where his shirt had ridden up slightly. Every swivel left a tingle behind.

Pedri wasn't sure what you were doing or if you knew what you were doing. But for some reason, your supposed unintentional teasing left him feeling flushed, thighs pressed together while he secretly held in his breath.

"Is something wrong?" You innocently asked, voice soft and low as your fingers move up his shirt, the movement bordering more on lazy rather than effortless as they inched to his v-line, lower stomach clenching at your touch before turning back to where they were. "You look tense," you pouted.

Pedri swallowed, shaking his head, trying to focus on the TV, brows furrowing as he did. He tried to remember the words like a mantra: the bet, the bet, the goddamn fucking bet.

You hummed in return. "Are you sure, Pedro?" You queried, leaning closer to him, your warm breath skimming his neck, hand dipping just a little lower. Just enough to make his heart stutter. 

He leaned into you naturally, legs shifting against you making you pressed your lips together, preventing a smile from sprawling onto your face. Instead you placed a soft kiss against his neck. 

"Cariño," Pedri muttered, brown eyes finally falling to you, his words like a warning.

You blinked widely, fluttering your lashes like you were innocent while you pressed your lips on his neck again, sending his nerves all over the place.

Pedri let out a shudder when you moved away, focusing on the movie. His chest heaved, relief pouring into him. Thank God.

Pedri had only truly caught onto what you were doing when he came back home after some training, ready to greet you with open arms but instead found you stretching on his yoga mat in the living room.

He blinked blankly, lips parted while he held his gym bag on his arm. "W-What are you doing?"

You twisted your head towards him, stretching out your ass as far up as it went, and smiled. "What do you think I'm doing?"

Pedri swallowed hard, brown eyes raking over your tight leggings and your loose tank top that revealed your bare skin in midst of your er... position. Christ, your ass looked... he didn't even dare think about it any longer. He looked at your skin – not a drop of sweat on you.

He raised a brow, resting his gym bag on the couch. "Are you exercising?"

You gave him a pointed look. "Obviously. I'm trying mountain climbers but I don't think I'm doing them right," you pouted, grunting as you stood back up, skin flushing with red as your blood came back down.

"Uh huh," Pedri slowly nodded, eyes narrowed as he walked over to you. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you close to him. "You hate exercising," he mumbled with a small grin.

You feigned a gasp, tilting your head to the left. "Do I? That's so weird," you retorted with a small hum.

Pedri rolled his eyes, chest vibrating as he chuckled. "I know what you're doing," he quipped back, fingers taking the hair out of your face before resting on your jaw.

"Really? What am I doing?"

He leaned in, lips barely a centimetre away from yours. "You're trying to make me lose the bet," he whispered.

You grinned quietly, hanging your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him. You could feel him suck in a sharp breath, making you laugh softly. You traced over the faint pink still on his cheeks from training. "Gonna give in?"

Pedri pursed his lips, shaking his head as the corners of his mouth turned upwards. "Never. "

The next day you were going to an event that left your contractually obligated boyfriend begging for you to come otherwise he'll "dig a hole and bury himself six feet under." It was the Ballon d'Or. Talk about dramatic.

Pedri was just finished getting ready, adding his final touches as he walked out of the bathroom and his eyes landed on you.

You wore a tight light yellow satin dress, fabric hanging down the front of your chest, hugging your waist, a deep cut at the back to show your body waist chain, and pooling all the way to your legs. It was simple and pretty. You absolutely adored it.

Pedri blinked, gaze snapping over to you, brown eyes drinking in every inch of your frame. He slowly inched towards the inch of your bed, jaw tightly clenched. "Absolutely not."

You furrowed your brows lightly, twirling your body to face him, lightly flattening out any small wrinkles. You caught his eyes staring and pouted. "Why not?"

He kissed his teeth with his tongue, shaking head. "You can't wear that, cariño."

"Pedri," you said, voice firm and slightly sad. "You're not serious."

He stood up, circling you slowly once he walked over to you, raking over you once again before stopping behind you. His mouth fell to your ear, voice soft yet tight. "I really don't want to fight every guy at the venue. I mean Lamine will be there. You'll kill the poor kid."

You laughed softly, stepping back to let your head fall into his chest. "Mi cariño, you don't get jealous. Especially not over a kid," you teased.

"I might," Pedri said, voice reverent, hand trailing down your bare back. "I could slip my hand down here and it would be so easy to find your thigh," he murmured, doing as he said, instantly feeling the heat radiate off you. He thumbed the thin fabric in between his fingers. "What is that? Christ, don't say it."

You smiled innocently at his strained voice. You moved your body to face him, holding his jaw gently as you met his dark gaze. "Matching lingerie?" You queried before grinning. "Only the best for you, pretty boy."

Pedri sucked in a sharp breath revelling in the way your thumb grazed his lips. "Let's not go. Let's stay," he begged, hot breath fawning over you, hand tightening around your waist.

You giggled. "We have to go. It's the Ballon d'Or," you murmured.

"Fuck that," Pedri groaned, eyes briefly shutting. "I've been turned on for three days. You've been blue-balling me for three – four if you include this."

You pouted, patting his cheek despite the amusement swirling in your body. "My pretty boy can't use his hand?"

Pedri's lip parted in disbelief, about to respond before you had already brushed past him, heading out the door. "Come on. We're going to be late!"

Pedri couldn't believe it. It was the Ballon d'Or and all he could think about was you. A moment he had been waiting for his entire life. Even as his name was called and the room erupted into loud cheers, yours being the loudest of them all... even as he walked across the stage, he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

And he was right.

Lamine had almost passed out at the sight of you. In fact, the entire room almost did. Pedri had never registered this many looks of jealousy and desire in one day and it was all because of you.

He couldn't even maintain a stern look to protect you. Even his teammate's girlfriends and wives were passing him compliments about you. He was proud, of course.

But all he wanted to do was get home and touch you. But he couldn't.

Instead Pedri was at a congratulatory dinner, with his parents and brother across him and some of his closest family friends and teammates, and his hand resting behind your back, fingers trailing your bare skin.

You shot him a pointed look. "Pedri," you hissed quietly.

"What?" He mumbled innocently, fluttering those pretty brown eyes at you.

"Do I need you to tell you to keep your hands to yourself?" You raised a brow, taking a sip of water while you caught his mother's eyes and gave here a small smile. She was one of the many who had not stopped complimenting you all night. You swore your cheeks hurt from how much she had made you smile.

Pedri's bottom lip jutted out, like actually – he was fuckng pouting. "You've teased me for so long. How do you expect me to just sit here and do nothing when you look like that?" He exasperated, eyes boring into yours with desperation, fingers skimming right above your ass.

You sucked in a sharp breath, thighs pressing together. Pedri... he always had a way with his words. You took another gulp of water, hoping it would reduce the burn in your skin

"Maybe you should be a good boy and wait for your reward," you mumbled, clearing your throat lightly.

"Promise," Pedri said after some time, breathing out slowly, "Promise the moment we get home this dress is coming off."

You laughed softly. "Promise."

Pedri wasn't kidding. You had barely made it through the door before his hands were on your waist, pulling you close and his lips attacked yours as if he was on a mission.

This kiss wasn’t gentle. Nothing about it was as gentle as the promise you had made a few hours ago.

It was full of every pent-up thought he had been having for the past four days. Four days where he forced himself not to just secretly jerk off in the bathroom.

Pedri had not a single thought running through his head as you played with the hem of his dress shirt, untucking it from his pants, your fingers crawling underneath and grazing his warm skin. He groaned with satisfaction, the sound travelling from his throat and reverberating through your body.

You gasped into this kiss, breath catching in your throat while his fingers tightened around your hip – the silk of your dress smooth against his touch, partially fallen around your waist, leaving your upper half bare.

"Four days," you breathed out against his lips, one hand flying to his brown hair, tugging sharply enough for him to groan into your mouth again. "You lasted four days. You said I'd last a week," you huffed with amusement.

You could feel Pedri roll his eyes, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as his grin ghosted the side of your mouth. "Sex isn't done on it's own," he retorted back, hand trailing past your ribcage, grasping your breast.

"You lost," you chuckled quietly, kissing down his throat. "Admit it."

Pedri moaned, eyes fluttering shut at the feel of your lips but he said nothing. Every fibre of competitiveness and ego preventing from him from admitting defeat.

"Come on," you lured, fingers edging past his pants and boxers, skimming the warmth of his cock, making Pedri lurch in your grasp, shaky breaths falling from his lips.

"Joder," he swore with a rasp, cheeks already flushed. "Fine. Fuck," he strained, head falling forward to your shoulder as you teased him with your touch. "I lost, I lost, I lost," he murmured like it was a mantra.

"Good boy. Now fuck me, cariño."

He was desperate. You could tell. Not just from his already blown pupils or the way he cowered over you against the wall. But it was the fact he was rushing to undress the both of you and he wasn't making a single move towards the bedroom – his favourite place.

He was really going to fuck you against a wall. And the only thing it was doing for you was making you wetter.

Pedri's lips attached to your neck, hands pulling your bare hips closer to him, hooking both of your legs around his waist. Your own fell to his neck, hanging loosely as he lined his cock up to your dripping cunt.

"Dios mío," he sighed out, watching your arousal coat him as he rubbed his cock against your wet folds, prepping and teasing you at the same time.

A whimper fell from your lips. "Pedri," you mewled, breath hitching every time his tip brushed your clit, leaving your body struggling to not just fall against him.

"I know," he muttered, voice reverent and husky. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, ample flesh threatening to escape the confines of his grip. He pulled you close to him once again, ensuring you were tightly on him as he slowly sunk you down on his cock without any warning.

Your jaw was slack. He always stretched you. It was like you could never get used to him. Pedri's jaw clenched tightly, while your fingers shot out to his shoulder blades, nails digging into his skin.  

"Fuck, feel so good, cariño," Pedri praised, grunting as he fully unsheathed himself into you, cock flushed with your pussy.

You couldn't get the words to come out of your throat. Only your heart pounded through your ears and head. You could only feel his cock slowly drag against you, filling every single inch of you out.

His breath felt hot against your cheek as he groaned. “Waited so long for this. Four days," he huffed. "Four days of fucking torture."

"Pedri," you gasped, pulling your head back to look at him. Your voice was soft in it's plea. "Move."

Your beg elicited the rhythm of his thrusts quickly. You weren’t sure how he did it. How he held you against the wall, holding you for so long. Perhaps you should've praised more of his training than you normally did.

Each one of his thrusts served a deliberate purpose – he needed to feel you. Make the both of you remember to never to this stupid bet ever again. Because as he tried to engrave his very being into you, pleasure had quickly wrapped the two of you in a drug-like state.

"Look at you," Pedri grunted, beginning to snap his hips against you, low moans becoming louder, mixing in with the sound of his cock plunging into you, obscene squelches filling the silence of your home. "Look how you take me. So fucking well. Like you were made for me."

"Pedri!" You cried out, gasping for air, digging your nails down his back. You didn't even know what to say. You couldn't do anything but sob out his name over and over again, the newfound mantra taking over you.

You could feel him everywhere in your body. So deep within your walls, leaving you clenching around him with each quick thrust as you bounced on his cock, his hands guiding every movement.

The sweat was beginning to cover the both of you in thin sheets. Your pants joining the squelches. You moaned at the feel of his lips back on your neck, gently sucking your warm skin, bruising you with his love for everyone to see tomorrow morning.

The low heat in your stomach was beginning to unfurl, blooming in an attempt to signal you. "Pedri," you gasped, your own hips grinding up at the small slivers of pleasure beginning to build.

Pedri's brown eyes fell to you. He could feel it on his own cock. The way you clamped around him "Come," he breathed out, snapping his hips. "Come for me, cariño. Show me how good I make you feel."

The pleasure ripped through you in sharp waves. Your body shook against him, back arching off the wall while your head fell to his shoulder. "Fuck!" You groaned, breathing hard.

Pedri gently rest you down on the floor before turning your body so you face the wall. His arm circled your waist, putting your back right against his chest. His free hand pried past your ass, letting his hard, leaking cock press against your folds.

"Gonna let met take you from behind, hmm?" Pedri mumbled, only incoherent words following afterwards. "Gonna take me like a good girl?"

You could barely hear anything except for your thudding heart, still reeling in from that orgasm.

You only nodded, core tingling with anticipation when you felt the tip of cock press against your hole, teasing you with every small movement as the coldness of the wall graced your skin.

Pedri pushed into you once again, grunting loudly. His pace was rougher now, faster. He wanted to come so bad... the past four days had turned him crazy.

Your sensitive cunt took every snap of his hips because, fuck, you wanted more. You needed more.

"Teasing me for so many days, pretending like you didn't feel a thing. Yet you want more?" Pedri breathed heavily, skin slapping against you. "So greedy," he chuckled, pressing his swollen lips against your spine.

Pedri slammed his cock against your body, cherishing your loud moans that turned tighter with every second, grunting at the feel of your warm skin against his lips. His grip on your waist was damaging, bringing you so close to him that he could've sworn the air tasted like you. Dios mío, you were driving him crazy.

“Fuuuck," Pedri rasped, mouth falling open when you pressed back against him, grinding down on his cock. "Just like that. Milk me,” he gasped.

His body stilled hard and fast, hips twitching, voice stuttering out a string of obscenities in Spanish as your orgasm rolled over you, hard. Ropes of him cum spilling out into your walls, keeping you warm and full to your very core.  

His body slumped slightly, cock finally softening a bit inside you after a few minutes passed. "Fuck," Pedri breathed, pulling out gently as your breath caught at the loss.

You breathed heavily, turning to find Pedri's face shine with sweat, cheeks so pink and flushed, small tresses of his hair sticking to his head.

His hand reached out, tucking your own hair behind your ears. He gave you a warm smile. "Okay?"

You nodded, eyes falling to your dress pooled at the floor. "I'm gonna have to press that," you chuckled softly.

Pedri grinned. "Tomorrow," he mumbled, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. "I'm going to run you a bath, hmm?"

"Thank you," you whispered, eyes fluttering with exhaustion after today's events.

Pedri held your chin, making you face him. "Just promise me. No more bets."

Can't believe you lost," you smirked, tapping his nose lightly.

Pedri's face faltered, eyes narrowing. "You're never going to let this go, are you?"

"Never."

౨ৎ

It's 6:30pm and you're on your way home from work in a unfamiliar and abstract way. The train route which you usually took was cancelled at short notice, the bus routes were always packed full of people, the walk was far far too long and your boyfriend Pedri was still at football training when you clocked out the office.

So, instead you had been waiting around for thirty minutes for your co-worker, Julian, to finish his work and drop you off back at your boyfriends house.

And so here you were, in his navy blue Porsche which smelt of sandalwood and cologne which tried to hard to smell expensive. The city passed by like a blur as the engine purred under you. You engaged in conversation about work, and your colleagues and how their was weird smell in the break room today. Mundane laughter and simple flowing chatter filled the drive to Pedri's place in the Barcelona suburbs.

Julian was a good man, and a good friend in the office. During work hours he was someone you would spend a good chunk of your time with, sometimes going on lunch together with a few others or grabbing an after work drink together. If you both arrived early enough you would go grab a quick coffee from the local café around the corner form the office. But being in his expensive car, in a dark lit space, it made your tummy flip. Being in any Porsche that wasn't Pedro's felt foreign and forbidden.

Had Pedri not have been at training he would have come and got you. In fact, he offered to leave training early just to make sure you got to his home safely. When you told him that leaving his training session early just to pick you up from work was ridiculous he offered to send a car to come get you instead. You were about to take him up on the offer but then Julian came like a knight in shining armour. You text Pedri and let him know a friend from work was heading in a similar direction and would just drop you off on the way.

For Pedri, that was a relief. A girl friend was going to drop you off safely and he could get back to training without a worry. It also seemed like you would be arriving home at a similar time to him now, or he would get home a lit bit earlier than you which was a nice change for once. So, when training ended he rushed into his own Porsche filled with only the excitement of seeing you.

Julian turned the wheel with an easy confidence, glancing at you briefly as he merged onto a quieter street lined with the sloping trees of Pedri’s neighborhood. You were nearing the end of the drive now, the tension that had quietly built in your shoulders beginning to ease with the familiar sight of the Barcelona suburbs rolling into view. It was a strange feeling. Your work life seemed to be meeting you real life. Sure, the office knew you were dating Pedri. You'd get teased about it all the time but you never thought your work life would intertwine with him, with your love. But now it was about too. You just hoped that Pedri was already home.

The Porsche pulled to a gentle stop just outside Pedri’s house, that same navy blur now parked against the pale dusk like it didn’t quite belong. You glanced at the big house you had spent so much time in it was like your own home. The driveway was empty. Your boyfriend was not back from football yet, and for a moment you let your shoulders drop in relief. A sigh you didn't know you were holding in realised from your chest.

You unbuckled your seatbelt, "Gracias, Julian" you said while dusting your hands down your tight black work trousers just to give your hands something to do.

“Of course,” he said, one arm resting casually on the wheel. “Anytime.” His Rolex was catching in the light of the setting sun. Everything about him was so expensive and exuded old money, so old fashioned and chivalrous. Most girls looked at Julian and could not contain their blush, you'd seen it happen countless times at the café. The young baristas eyes cowering with nerves when they speak to him, or the older ladies who couldn't stop fawning over his muscles. But not you. Never you. You had Pedri. And Pedri was all you ever wanted.

You exchanged quick goodbyes and then reached for the door handle. Just as you did headlights washed across the front of the car. Another car, one which was sleek, black, and unmistakably familiar, rolled into the driveway at just the right moment to make your stomach drop and your heart quicken.

You froze, fingers still curled around the door handle.

The headlights flickered against the rear-view mirror, casting long shadows across Julian’s face as he looked toward the driveway, then back at you with a small, unreadable smile.

“That him?” he asked, voice low but casual, as though he wasn't fazed by the fact one of the best footballers in the world hadn't just showed up in front of him. Like he didn't watch him play week in and week out.

You nodded, too fast. “Si. That’s him.”

The engine of Pedri’s car purred low as it rolled to a stop. The light cut out as the ignition shut off, and for a beat, everything felt suspended. Caught between the final scene of one moment and the first flicker of the next.

You opened the door before the pause could stretch too long.

The air outside was cooler now, with the early evening breeze tugging gently at your white work blouse. You stepped out of the Porsche, the sound of the car door clicking shut unnaturally loud in the quiet street.

Pedri emerged from his own Porsche a second later, gym bag slung over his shoulder, dark hair still damp from a post-training shower, his Nike hoodie zipped halfway up. He looked good; flushed from training, tired in that soft way he always looked when he’d come home from training. He was smiling when he saw you, but it faltered slightly when his eyes landed on the navy Porsche.

Then they looked at you again.

He slowed a little as he crossed the driveway, his hand coming up in a lazy wave, his eyes trailing you up and down because something about you in tight fitting office wear always got him worked up. But, he could not stop himself from wondering who was in the navy Porsche that still waited outside his house. Who had driven you home?

Julian didn’t move, but the driver’s side window lowered slightly. You could feel his gaze watching, calmly, from behind the wheel. Not smug. Just curious.

Pedri greeted you with a small kiss on the cheek. Then his eyes flicked to the car again, then to you. “Didn’t know your friend from work drove a Porsche.”

You smiled, small and tired, brushing your hair behind your ear as you adjusted the strap of your handbag on your shoulder. You could feel the question lingering in his voice, wrapped in velvet but edged in something firmer. Curiosity, maybe, or protectiveness. Possibly both.

“He offered,” you replied softly, not wanting to make it a bigger deal than it was. “I didn’t want you leaving training early, remember? You’ve got a match in a few days. I was going to take a cab but Julian said he was heading this way. Made sense."

Julian. The name of man made Pedri's ears ring. It was a man who had driven you home. A man who you spent eight hours a day working alongside. Suddenly, that fact clicks in his head. The fact that you almost have a separate life existing in an office building in Barcelona's city centre. A world where he doesn't really exist. It makes his stomach turn.

You watched your boyfriend's eyebrows crease in the way they do when he's thinking hard. The way his jaw tightens in what was seemingly annoyance.

The noise of the car window rolling down even further broke some of the tension between us.

Pedri’s head turned slightly toward the sound, his eyes sharpening with something unreadable, his hand slipping from your waist back to the strap of his gym bag. He didn’t say anything , he didn’t need to. You could feel the shift in him, like something inside had straightened up, alert.

From the car, Julian leaned slightly into view. He looked out through the lowered window, his face calm, casual, eyes flicking between the two of you with no rush, no nerves, no intention of stepping out or overstepping.

Pedri looked at him. He was full of muscles, a sharp set jaw and wavy light brown hair. He was older, and looked it. Not in a bad way but in a manly way. He looked like most girls dream guy. His suit perfectly tailored, he expensive watch glinting away. He was stable, and respectable. He had a proper job and a good salary.

This was the man you were spending eight hours a day with. Your friend. Pedri thought.

“You good?” Julian called out to you lightly, in Spanish, just loud enough to carry across the short distance.

You nodded, turning your body more toward him instinctively. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks again.”

Julian offered a small nod and half a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alright then. I'll see you on Monday morning, the usual time. Have a good night.”

And just like that, the window rolled back up. The navy blue car rolled away into the dying light of the evening. The engine roar getting further and further away.

Silence.

Pedri watched the spot where the car disappeared for a moment too long, then turned back to you.

"The usual time, eh?"

You blinked, caught slightly off-guard by his tone—not sharp, but not exactly light either. It hovered somewhere in the middle. Almost playful, but laced with something else; something heavier. The usual time. Three little words who have flicked the night like a switch.

You gave a small smile, trying to brush it off. “We get coffee most mornings before work. It’s not a big deal.”

Pedri nodded slowly, but his lips pressed into a thin line. The same look he gives when he has been fouled on the pitch and disagrees with the referee. A frown. “Right. Coffee. Just you and him?”

“Sometimes with others. Sometimes just us,” you admitted, honestly, but gently. “It’s just a routine. We both get there early and it’s convenient. That’s all it is.”

Jealousy was seeping through his veins. He couldn't stop imagining it. You and Julian in the corner of a café in the early morning, alone. Did he pay for your order? Did he pull out your chair? Did he carry your work bag just to be a gentleman? Did he fill the role he was absent from? He began to overthink the whole interaction that just happened, the way Julian checked to make sure you were okay. The way he didn't even really acknowledge Pedri, his eyes only ever remaining on you. He looked at you with what Pedri knew as desire, forbidden attraction that he could not act upon. Did your work attire work Julian up as much as it worked Pedri up?

Pedri didn't say anything, he just nodded his head to the front door and you followed behind him. You could feel the heat fuming from him. The raw jealousy.

౨ৎ

Inside the house, it was too quiet. The kind of quiet where you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, your kitten heels clicking on the hardwood, the distant hum of city noise wrapped in a suburban quiet.

Pedri dropped his bag on the floor by the door in a sudden thud. He didn’t look at you when he did it. He stood for a moment with his back to you, still in the threshold, fingers flexing once at his sides like he was trying to contain himself from emotion.

You closed the door softly behind you, the click small and definite. Your bag slid from your shoulder and landed by your feet. You wanted to speak, but your throat felt thick. You weren't used to this side of your boyfriend. You didn't know how to navigate it.

You followed him into the kitchen, walking slower than usual. He opened the fridge, stared at it blankly, then closed it again. He leaned against the counter like he needed something to hold him up.

You stood near the kitchen island, your fingers worrying the strap of your handbag, waiting for him to speak first.

He finally turned toward you, his expression unreadable. “So, he drives you home. You get coffee together. What else?”

The words weren’t cruel, but they felt precise. Like he was picking them out carefully, deliberately. You blinked.

“It’s just coffee,” you said. “Just work stuff. That's all it is.”

Pedri nodded, but it didn’t feel like agreement. It felt like stalling. He looked at you again, really looked, his brown eyes dark under the overhead kitchen lights. His under eyes tired from his workout.

“I don’t like it,” he said. Simply. Without apology.

You opened your mouth, maybe to defend yourself, or maybe just to say his name, but he cut in before you could.

“I know you love me,” he added. “I’m not insecure about that.”

He walked a few steps closer. His voice didn’t rise. “But I don’t want you being close with another man. Not like that.”

“Like he knows you,” Pedri said, now standing just in front of you. “Like he knows you before nine in the morning. Like he knows all your wants and all your needs. Like he takes care of you. That's mine.”

You looked at him carefully, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze.

Pedri was watching you, waiting. His hand moved like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t.

"I know how men look at women they want but can’t have. He looks at you like that. I don’t want him anywhere near you.” His eyes darken with a serious glare you rarely ever saw.

Your stomach flipped because your body betrays you by liking this side to him. This man that's claiming you so boldly all while dressed in a matching black training tracksuit with curly wet hair, smelling like hard work and musk.

The air felt so charged, like you were being struck with electricity and flying sparks.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “He’s just a friend,” you said finally. Your voice sounded small in the big kitchen. “He’s never crossed a line.”

Pedri’s eyes flickered, a tiny movement, like a muscle twitch. He took another step, closing the space between you until the counter pressed against your back. His voice dropped even lower.

“He doesn’t have to cross it,” he said. “He's already standing on it.”

You swallowed. He was so close now you could smell the faint chlorine from the training ground shower still clinging to his hoodie, the sharpness of his cologne dulled by sweat.

“I’m here,” you said gently. “I come home to you.” You try to reassure him.

You reached up and touched his wrist, his skin warm under your fingers. Slowly, his hand lifted, hovering before it finally settled at your waist. His thumb pressed against the fabric of your blouse, not hard, just enough to feel you there.

“I’m not asking you to quit your job or anything stupid,” he said, eyes still locked on yours. “I’m just saying, if he’s giving you rides, if he’s sitting with you in cafés, if he’s paying for your lunches, he’s not just being polite.”

“I don’t let him pay,” you said quietly. “And it’s not--” you stopped, trying to choose the right words, but none of them seemed to fit.

Pedri’s thumb drew a small, slow circle against your waist, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. He looked at you the way someone looks at a photograph they’ve stared at for too long, their eyes tracing every line until it becomes burned into the brain.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes still locked on yours. “you don’t see it. But I do. That’s my job.” His fingers pressed a little harder into your waist, not rough, but enough to feel it. “To see it before you do.”

You swallowed. “Your job?”

He nodded once. “To protect what’s mine. Not because I’m afraid of losing it, but because I won’t let anyone else have it.”

Your stomach flipped again. He had no doubts. Only certainty and confidence.

His hand slid a fraction higher, palm spanning the curve of your waist now, his fingers warm against your skin through the fabric. "No more morning coffee, Si?". It wasn't really a question but he tried to make it sound like one. His lips dropping to your ear making your breath catch in your chest. Instantly your body responds to him. A rush of heat at the base of your spine and between your legs.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, voice small but sure, meeting his dark, steady gaze.

His eyes flickered with something deep and fierce, a quiet fire behind the calm. “Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “Because no one else gets to touch you like this.”

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down, mouth brushing your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in his wake as he unbuttoned the white blouse you had spent the long day wearing.

Your hands found his sweatshirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric, holding him close. The subtle power in his touch, the deliberate claiming, sent a shiver straight through you. Your hands tugged gently at the hem of his hoodie, and he let you, lifting his arms without a word as you pulled the fabric over his head and dropped it beside you.

Pedri's forehead rested against yours for a moment, the tip of his nose brushing yours. His breath was steady, his eyes searching. As if he needed to see you clearly. As if this wasn’t just about jealousy anymore, but something deeper. Possession, yes. But also an undying love.

You kissed him. He kissed you with back with hunger and want. His fingers threaded into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

He tugged you down the hallway, lips still longer. Breathes panting. Your back hit the edge of the bedroom door, your blouse falling the rest of the way open under his hands. He paused, just long enough to look at you, to take you in.

And then he said it, low and certain: “It's just me and you. No one else matters”

You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least. You didn’t need to. The way your hands found his face, the way your mouth found his again. That was the only answer he needed.

The rest of the night unfolded slowly, wrapped in warmth and low murmurs, in the quiet promise of closeness. Skin on skin. Moan after moan.

Come Monday morning, Pedri woke up early enough to drive you to work. A little later than usual. No morning coffee. No Julian.

And that evening, he was there again; parked outside your office, leaning against his car in sunglasses, waiting. You walked out to find him like that, calm and oozing confidence, while Julian trailed behind.

Pedri didn't say a word, he just watched as Julian watched him open the car door for you, and instead of jealousy -- this time it was something sweeter. The satisfaction of watching Julian realise he would never have you, no matter how hard he tried or how long he waited.

You were Pedri's. Only ever Pedri's.

Your breath hitches, and you’re not entirely sure why. Perhaps it was the rich baritone of his voice, the way it pierced your ears even above the wind, wetness, and anger of the storm. Perhaps it was his classically handsome face - slicked-back hair, high cheekbones, a pert mouth that was somehow knowing - like in one of those historical paintings, a Prince Charming. 

You wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint him in any century.

Or perhaps it was the way that when you stepped back, on instinct, he leaned down to loop a strong arm around your waist in a single, fluid motion. So fast that you muse he might’ve teleported.

Whoosh–! 

You startle at the noise above you, and look up to find that the strange man had unfolded an umbrella over the two of you - one that you hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

He lets the berth of it cover your frame, like the dark wings of a bat stretched taut. Uncaring of whether he himself gets wet, the man shields you against the icy billows of rain that blew through the portico. His warm grin stretches, urging. “My lady?”

“O-oh.” It registers that he was speaking to you. You’re unsure where to place your palms, and they lay flatly open against the man’s toned chest. Still. “My apologies for- for the intrusion so late. But I…”

You were getting distracted by his kind, molten eyes is what. But he finishes for you with a slight huff of amusement, “Happened to get caught in this monstrosity of a storm, am I right in guessing?” At your nod. “Well, it’s no wonder then, my lady. I’m only glad you made it here safe.”

“I-” You were right in feeling like you weren’t able to pinpoint which century he was from. Because his tone of speaking wasn’t reminiscent of any dialect you’ve ever heard before - something melodic yet stiff, something understandable yet…dated. 

And despite your incessant pondering, he stands as patiently as ever. Holds you as patiently as ever.

Even though the wind ruffled that neat hair of his, and the rain pelted his sides without the cover of the umbrella. You hasten to explain yourself, “I was actually on my way from a work function, a bit far away. When this storm suddenly hit and my car broke down in the middle of it- actually, I think it ended up in some ditch with no power, which is why I ended up- well- here.” You finish, lamely.

He looks thoughtful, nodding empathetically.

“And I really do apologize for the intrusion, really, but if I could stay just until the storm blows over and I can call for help-”

“Do forgive me for interrupting you, my lady.” The man’s precise tone speaks once more, “But you may stay here as long as you like.”

Relief washes down your spine like a bucket of heat, melting you instantly. “Oh, thank you- thank you.” And before you know it, you’re falling deeper into his arms. 

“A lady must not thank a mere worker.” He hums with a tut, and you wonder whether that means he was one of the staff at this large building - what little you could see of the silhouette seemed larger than a normal house, and you’d assumed that it was some hotel at first.

He steps soundlessly to help you steady yourself. And you’re soon being warmly gestured inside, the umbrella being held over your head with each step, even as he stepped aside into the rain to let you through. “Come now, we must dry you off at once. Being in the cold for this long won’t be good for your constitution, my lady.”

You step inside as he directs, and it feels like stepping into a warm bath - just right.

And what you’d seen in the distance - that yolky, blinking light that led you here, your body moving as if on instinct - wasn’t actually a lightbulb, as you’d thought. In actuality, it was about a dozen, flaring chandeliers.

Illuminating a fresco of gardens and flowers and spring. Lined along the sprawling ceiling like fruits that were overripe, fit to burst. They danced ever-so-slightly in the draught that the open door brought, yet not a single candle extinguished from what you could make out.

You felt so tiny in the house- mansion, as you were quickly coming to learn. 

Greeted by an imperial staircase made of marble, and accents of gold that fought with the chandeliers over which one of them shined brighter. You don’t think you could possibly count how many hallways holed themselves into the mansion just from here. Hidden caverns filled with antiques, and ever-green chrysanthemums, and paintings that you could just see the corners of. Upon either side of the entrance were large Clerestory windows that provided snapshots of the flared lightning outside; so high up, so large, that it made the front door feel dwarfed. 

You think it looks strangely familiar - perhaps something reminiscent of those illustrations you’d seen in classic stories.

Curiously, along the winding corridors, you note that there were many mirrors. Some small and bejeweled, some tall from ceiling to floor.

In intervals unknown to you, they stood out - the brightest of them all.

You jump at the feeling of something touching your elbow-

“My apologies for startling you, my lady.” Comes your host’s deep voice, and you whirl around to find him bowed. With a warm, citrus-scented towel presented to you (when did he even have the time to get that?) “Please, do make use of this towel to rinse off the water on your body. If you would like, I may do it for you?”

“No no, I can do it.” You insist, feeling your heart race. His stern lips quirk up ever-so-slightly when you reach for it. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure. I wouldn’t want my lady getting sick.”

My lady…

You shake your head, trying to get it free of that giggling lil’ voice that kept repeating those two words. Instead, you take the towel from the beautiful man and—oh.

Underneath your breath, you gasp through your nose. Because the very second that your fingers had grazed his own when taking the towel, a chill wafted down your spine. So cold. So…unnatural. You weren’t sure whether it was the sheer temperature, or the fact that it was the sheer temperature of his hand.

Why was he so cold?

Almost as if he sensed your thoughts, the man swiftly pulls his hand away. And it’s only then that you realize that he was dressed so smartly.

Shoes polished till they reflected your bewildered stare. Well-fitted black pants. A three-piece suit filled out by his broad shoulders. Black tailcoat. High collar. Steely buttons. And an emblem on his coat pocket that you couldn’t read from here. Gloves. Ah—so that was why he was so cold, you guessed.

Surely there was no other reason, right?

Lightning flashes.

The rooms lights up in ice-white.

“Oh dear, it seems the storm won’t be getting any better tonight.” He announces, clapping his hands twice. And then, previously unseen curtains start closing in on the windows so high above. Effectively shutting out the storm, the night, and with it, the world.

You wondered what automatic mechanism that was.

“We best get you to bed immediately, my lady.” The blond-haired man says, his hair gleaming in the candlelight - and you could’ve sworn that it’d been all ruffled and messy by the storm just prior. Now, it was untouched, as if he’d never stepped outside. 

He rounds the entrance, politely gesturing at you to follow. 

“Such a lovely place.” You observe, as you’re led up the staircase and into the East wing. The hallways were tall and ancient, humming with centuries of stories untold. And, as you’d expected, the antiques, the chrysanthemums, the paintings.

Blurs of faces that you were walking too quickly by to properly make out.

“Why thank you, my lady.” He looks back briefly, holding a golden candelabra to light your pathway. Still walking, he doesn’t need to stop to speak. “This is an old home, with old bones, old secrets.” The man cracks a grin, “I should know, I have been lucky to call myself a worker of this fine home for a long time.”

So he did work here - a butler, all signs were pointing to. You hum, butlers had always seemed like something out of a soap opera, or those regency novels.

Having him in front of you like this made you feel somewhat dizzy.

And you were entranced by the noiseless way he moved, “And how long is a long time?”

“Oh, one could say it feels like…centuries.” He chuckles to himself.

You make a few turns, heading deeper into the mansion. And you can’t help but notice that you’ve yet to see a single other person here except the two of you-

“The masters of this home are more in name.” The butler says, in his smooth tone. Like he could sense the question forming. “This house has been passed down through generations, and I fear that I have yet to officially meet whoever owns this grand establishment now.”

“Oh?” Your brows raise, “They seriously don’t come to visit a house this beautiful? Not even as a vacation home?”

“I’m afraid so. It is all but abandoned.” He nods, “But alas, I do not complain. They employ me here to clean and take care of this home, and that’s all I can ask. To preserve a piece of history so magnificent, no matter how much they try to forget…it shall always haunt you.”

“So you’re alone here?”

He stops then. And turns back to you with an unreadable expression- oh, something about the way the candelabra outlined the hollows of his face made you feel cold all over again. “I’m afraid so.” Voice quiet. “Would you prefer otherwise, my lady?”

In the distance, the growl of thunder trundles.

“No no, nothing like that.” You rush to answer, not wishing to offend the kind soul helping you for the night (and honestly, even despite that, you didn’t feel a speck of discomfort with him- in fact, you felt…at ease). “Honestly, you’ve been more than a delight- I was just wondering whether you don’t get lonely in such a big house, all by yourself. I certainly would visit.”

He observes you for a moment. Before his warm expression is back again- “Do not worry yourself over my wellbeing, my lady, of course, as all good workers do, I have gotten used to it. Yet…I must admit that there is the occasional night in which I, too, crave humanity—”

You listen, enraptured.

Before he then gestures to the door in front of which you’d stopped at - you hadn’t even noticed. It was an unassuming mahogany door, polished and pristine like all the rest.

His gloved hands gently twist the doorknob and lead you inside. “Your room, my lady.” He leaves the candelabra on top of a cabinet by the doorway. “I have arranged for a warm bath to be prepared for you, with a fine selection of body washes and shampoos from around the world. After which I ask you to allow me to treat you to a light supper in bed, as you must be hungry after such an exciting night. Kindly ring the bell-” He gestures at a slim handbell on the cabinet beside the candelabra that you hadn’t seen before. “-and I shall be here for you before the second ring.”

“This is…” You look around the room- chamber, more like. 

The candles on the chandelier inside had lit up as soon as you stepped inside (you had to figure out that mechanism, somehow!) Bathing the expansive bedroom in a soft glow, like this, it almost looked like a piece of heaven itself.

An antique chamber. A four-poster king-sized bed in the middle. A plethora of sweet-scented flower pots. A few paintings of landscapes. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the balcony, the garden. Though now, you could only see the storm outside. On one side of the room, you could see a shelf of thick tomes, impeccably dusted, and next to it was a fireplace. Roaring. 

You wondered how he had the time to light it.

On the other side it opened up to what you imagined must be an equally as luxurious bathroom. The polished tile squeaked as you made your way inside, reflecting your wind-torn coat that felt more than out-of-place in such a room. It almost felt like you were wading across a ballroom. 

You whirl, and you note that one of the walls adjacent to the bed wasn’t taken up by some painting or mural or wallpaper- it was nearly covered by a gleaming mirror. How interesting.

“-this is amazing.” You breathe.

“I am glad that it is to your liking, my lady.” He bows, “If you need anything, or wish to ask anything, simply ring the bell.”

And as the blond-haired man moves to exit with a final bow, you reach your hand out- “Wait-”

He turns. “My lady?”

“Ah, I didn’t ring the bell but- your name.” You fiddle with the drenched fabric of your coat as you ask, wondering whether it was salvageable anymore. You tell him your own name, before questioning, “Can I ask your name?”

He smiles. “Nanami Kento, my lady.” And there’s a zip of excitement that runs through your body at finally putting a name to a handsome face. Nodding, you expect that that would be the end of your small pleasantries, and you turn back-

But before he leaves for good tonight, Nanami speaks over his shoulder. “And worry not, I am one hell of a butler.”

You snap your head back to listen to him speak, and find that he was already gone.

The hallway was dark outside, and there was a slight wind coming in. You hasten to shut the door and find that you can’t even hear Nanami’s footsteps disappearing, can’t even hear his shadow—well, you always had the bell, right?

You shook off the slight prickling at your skin, and welcomed yourself into the clouds of warmth spiffing from the bathroom.

.

.

.

That night may have been the best sleep of your life, you had to admit. Like you’d been home, and doubled by the luxury of the place.

It might have something to do with the fact that the massive bed was amongst the comfiest things you’ve ever felt, or it might have something to do with the easy cotton fabric of the pyjamas that Nanami had left while you were bathing.

You’d come out of the bathroom, refreshed (the bathroom ceiling was blanketed with the most beautiful mosaics, and the bathtub was accented with gold), only to find that he’d left out nightwear of your liking.

Of your exact size.

You’d stopped then, wondering how he managed to find something that fit you so perfectly. 

Perhaps it was a lucky guess, and a previous owner of the mansion happened to be your exact size? Then again, it did feel so new in your hands…

Without wearing yourself out even further, you’d rung the bell and partaken in a quick dinner (you’d been famished, having only scoffed down a protein bar during the conference). And then chosen to ignore the shivers that ran down your spine to tuck yourself in. Soon oblivious to the storm, and the mansion’s creaking, and the eyes that seemed to watch you at night.

It all felt like part of a dream.

In the morning, you’d awoken to the twittering of birds, and a slab of golden sunlight, like butter, filtering in through the window. Nanami had already laid out a gorgeous princess-line dress of emerald green for you, with a deep v-cut collar that showed just a coy bit of skin, and a silhouette that flattered your frame perfectly.

That, too, was the perfect fit.

You adjusted your sleeves and couldn’t help but titter to yourself as you felt like a princess. In no time after you got ready, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh, come in.”

It couldn’t be anyone but Nanami. And he looked as handsome as the last time you’d seen him (earlier, in the late hours of the night you’d almost wondered whether it was the dimness that made him look so extraordinarily handsome).

But no, he was as beautiful as ever. His golden hair glinting in the sun, like a halo, and his smile beaming as he walks closer to you. “Good morning, my lady.” Nanami bows, “I see you have already prepared yourself for the day. How exquisite you look, should my eyes fall upon such a sight every morning then I should be blessed. Am I correct in assuming that the dress is adequate to your tastes?”

“It’s just beautiful, Nanami.” You run your hands down the sides, admiring. “I don’t know how you managed to get my perfect size.”

He brings a gloved index up to his lips, with a wink. “A butler always had his secrets.” Before he straightens up, “Now, if you would allow me, may I help you with your hair and make-up?”

“Oh-” You’d just thought about rifling through the vanity’s drawers, with the slight hope that you might find the products you use. And as if he could read your mind, he was offering. “Are you…sure?”

“It would be my honor, my lady.” Nanami sits you down on the chair before the vanity mirror. His broad frame behind you- from here, you could see just how snugly that tailcoat fit his slender waist. “You may keep your eyes on me, or on yourself- please tilt your chin up—”

Soft, cold hands get to work.

And you really did feel like a princess.

.

.

.

By the time you’re walking downstairs for breakfast, you find yourself all dolled up just the way you like it - and you didn’t even have to give Nanami too many directions. You thoroughly considered taking him back once you leave.

With the crook of his elbow stuck out for you to hold onto, his biceps flexed, you made your way to sit at the head of a long table. Narrow and at least as lengthy as two of your bedrooms back home.

Him trailing behind you at the entrance, you excitedly walk forwards to sit down- and have your chair pushed in by…Nanami?

You look towards the entrance once more, you could’ve sworn that he was still there the last time you looked.

He swiftly placed a steaming silver dish of breakfast in front of you, and then filled the table up with so many fruit platters upon toast upon sneaky puddings. Your eyes took in the kaleidoscope of food, feeling slightly dizzy at the sheer amount. “Did you—did you make all of this just this morning, Nanami?”

“What, this?” He looked in slight surprise at the table, as if wondering whether that was really an incredible amount. “Just part of my duties, my lady. Along with the cleaning, the baking, and the watering, a few to name.”

You look behind you - the dining room overlooked part of the garden that you hadn’t noticed last night during the storm.

Plush plants that somehow seemed unaffected by the torrents of water that had poured down: roses, chrysanthemums, marigolds, and weeping willows that all swayed idly in the wind. Like they were welcoming you. Welcoming you back. They were planted in a maze-like pattern. From here you think you could see flower-filled archways, and a lake that glittered underneath the sun.

You wondered how you missed it all last night - surely you would have stumbled across a few of the hedge growth? It all seemed so barren as you’d wound your way up to the portico, so acrid. But now…

“And if you don’t mind me being so brazen, I hope you do forgive me for this.” Nanami says, and you whip your head back to him- him and a very familiar set of car keys he was holding. “I took the freedom to move your car into our driveway.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of their skull, “You mean you pushed it all the way here?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Nanami smiles that secret smile, “Would you like to take a look at it after breakfast, my lady?”

You nod fervently, gulping down the rest of your breakfast. 

In a few minutes, you’d already finished and was being tutted by Nanami into drinking enough water and putting on the outside slippers (procured by him, also your exact size) before you went outside. As expected, your car was a wreck.

There was one wheel missing and the engine seemed to be completely busted.

“I have already summoned the town’s mechanic.” He’s telling you, as you looked on at the car in gloom - that thing had taken up a lot of savings to acquire, and above all you hated to see it in such a sorry state. How would you get home?

“And?” You ask, eagerly. “Did they say when they would get here?”

“I’m afraid he won’t be here for at least a few days, my lady.” Nanami frowns empathetically, mirroring you. “The storm last night was quite vicious, you see. It has most of the roads blocked with trees, and until those get cleared up, he won’t be able to make it up here.”

You swear underneath your breath.

“But the good news is you can stay here as long as you like!” He attempts to lighten the mood, with a smile. “In fact, I might just keep you even longer.”

“Oh, but I really couldn’t impose…”

“I insist.”

And that was that, it seems you’d be staying here for a little longer than you’d originally planned. Though, with Nanami’s hospitality, you doubted you’d feel anything but at home.

Right?

.

.

.

The rest of your day and the next was spent simply reading the fantasy novels in your bedroom, lounging in the gardens and corners of the mansion. 

By your second day there you’d explored every inch of the mansion that there was to explore (except for, perhaps the basement. A strangely nostalgic door outside. Which you had reached the very foot of, before Nanami had gently nudged you back inside with some comment about wines being mulled there that cannot see the light of day until the time was right). It’d taken you five entire days to get yourself properly acquainted with the place.  

And with your profanities.

Spewing them out, you don’t think you’ve ever used before as you attempted to get even a single bar of signal for your phone.

“Goddammit-” You grit your teeth, for the nth time in the past hour. It’s your second day in the mansion, and you’re leaning over the balcony of your bedroom, so far outwards that you think you might just fall off. 

With your hand outstretched, phone fisted in the air and searching for a signal. You couldn’t call anyone like this, let alone the mechanic to confirm. None of your messages or emails went through, either. “How are we this far up and yet I can’t get a single bar- oh, when I get home I’m cancelling this stupid subscription mark my words.”

“Might I suggest, my lady–” Nanami says from behind you. He stood beside your bed, changing the blankets and fluffing the pillows. “-that in the meantime you perhaps take a look at our library? I think you’ll find that we have certain books that are quite riveting.”

“Maybe…” You respond, still stung by the uselessness of your phone. “I don’t suppose that in the meantime you could also arrange a messenger pigeon for me, could you?”

He perks up, “I shall tame a pigeon immediately-”

“No no, it’s alright.” You wave off, with a stifled laugh. Ah- he always did manage to put you in a better mood, despite your circumstances. “Maybe I’ll take a look at the library tonight, it beats trying not to smash my phone to bits.”

“Quite.” Nanami quips.

And before you can say anything more, he’s walking over to you. Placing his hand on top of the phone - effectively on top of yours—“After all, it is a beautiful day outside. Would you fancy a walk in the garden, my lady?”

“Y-yes please-” You whisper, at his proximity. Cold to the touch. 

“Then, I shall get your slippers ready.” He smiles, and leaves. You can only look from afar as he exits, letting a breath leave your chest that you didn’t know you’d been holding in for the moment.

Your head drops down without thinking to look at your phone. Only—

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

You furrow your brows, trying to press on a few buttons- but the error message doesn’t leave. It glitches. Different from the meager ‘no signal’ symbol that’d been there earlier. And the crashed page is all you can see once more.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

.

.

.

The error message lasts until your walk in the gardens.

The error message lasts all the way until after lunch. After dinner.

It was in the dead of your third night here, under the veil of darkness, when you finally manage to find a signal. 

Despite your phone having crashed, and despite your feet aching from your productive day, you found yourself leaning over the edge of your bedroom balcony once more. The edge of your phone reaching outwards—one bar of signal obtained.

You breathe out in relief, falling back onto the heels of your feet. The wind was whipping in spirals around you, creating a cloud of your nightdress to billow. Soft silk. Feeling like the touch of a hand.

You look at the phone screen that had finally stopped flashing that error sign, and eagerly tap towards the phone app. Only—

Your phone vibrates with a call.

Confused at the Unknown number, you wonder whether this might be someone from home that’s been worried about your whereabouts. And so you don’t question it much when you slide the blaring bar and answer the call. “Hello?”

No one answers.

You repeat, “Hello? Can you hear me?” 

No one answers.

Perhaps it was the wind that was making you hard to hear? You turn away from the gales slightly, careful not to lose the humble signal that you have. And you press your phone harder against your face. “Hello? Who’s this-”

No one answers.

But that’s when you hear it: heavy breathing. 

Low and labored. Like someone had just run a mile and immediately picked up the phone, somehow dialing your number.

“Is this some sort of prank?” You hiss, “Because it isn’t funny. Who is this?”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Answer me-”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Hello?”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Answer me-”

There’s a sharp tone as the phone ends, whether by you or whoever was on the other end of the line you’re not quite sure.

Heavy breathing.

This time, not from the phone.

You whirl around with a gasp—the curtains gust out at a sudden wind. And there’s no one behind you - there’s no sound of breathing behind you, either. But you’re sure you’d heard it before. You’re sure.

Lightning flashes in the distance. 

There’s the rumble of thunder that almost sounds like laughter- in fact, you’re sure that if you let your ears keenly listen in, it was laughter. Masculine and deep. Echoing into the distance, like it was someone surrounding you.

With your phone clutched to your thundering chest, you’re quickly walking to the safety of your bedroom inside. And you decide to lock every window that night.

You couldn’t sleep.

.

.

.

The day after that - your third day in the mansion now, your fourth night - there was still no sign of the car mechanic. You’d taken to sleeping during the day, lounged upon an intricately woven love seat that was inside your chambers.

Of course, Nanami hadn’t questioned a thing.

He was as warm and welcoming as ever, of course. Always so efficient getting you the things you needed, helping you get ready, and cooking your favorite foods - almost too efficient. Any time you looked at him, he never seemed to have a hair out of place, despite being embroiled in the toughest of domestic tasks (he took offense any time you offered to pull your own weight until the mechanic arrived).

Practically perfect.

Almost unnatural. 

You wondered how he had the time to do it all…

And that foggy night, you tossed and turned amongst the sea of expensive silken blankets. Ultimately, as the clock struck 2AM and you still found yourself unable to sleep, you got off the side of the mattress and walked. To the candelabra on the cabinet. And then outside.

With no fixed aim nor destination, your feet took you down one of the paths you’d explored during your days here. Though, you had the faintest feeling that even if you hadn’t explored- you’d have known your way around here. Past unwilted flowers and paintings that seemed to stare you down as you passed. And soon enough, you were standing in front of the great double doors of the library.

One of them, at least.

Nanami had told you that the mansion boasted about five massive libraries, filled to the brim with books across all ages and authors. And the smell of pages and put-out fires greet your senses when you enter, your slippers thudding across the cold stone floor.

The ceiling was high, almost never-ending.

And from above peered severe gargoyles, their wings outstretched, and their mouths mid-scream as if to warn you not to take a step closer. You wrapped your arms around your body and shivered, looking up at the high shelves.

With one hand craned out, you trace your fingers down their thick spines. Not a speck of dust on them.

Until, finally, the hairs at the back of your neck seem to raise–

You look behind you.

Nothing.

It was dark in the library, the sole source of light being the paper-thin moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Casting an almost eerie glow on everything it’s spindly fingers touched. 

Though, you still don’t think you would be able to sleep if you headed back to your bedroom right now. And you curiously read the book spines where you stopped walking (it was too dark to make them out properly, yet you still take a few of them with you, in hopes of a distraction).

You sit down at the nearest wooden table, and the singular candle holder in the middle of it flickers to life. As if awakened by your presence.

You really wondered what this mechanism must be - you made a mental note to ask Nanami tomorrow. And in the glow, you could now see what books you’d actually picked up.

Baker’s Book (1901)

Sebastian’s Book on How to Keep the House Warm

Pride and Prejudice

A Historical Analysis of the Nanami Mansions

That one was struck through, its scabrous leather cover torn as if someone had ripped through it with a knife. You squinted as you tried to read through the title, to no avail.

Of Demons and Servitude: The Hellish Agelong Contracts That Surpass Love

That last one seemed a little out of place amongst the rest- well. You took a look around. Perhaps it wasn’t that out of place.

And in the dancing candlelight, you open the first book and begin to read.

.

.

.

You’d fallen asleep there.

Somewhere midway through a paragraph about how this very mansion had no official founder, and how it had been handed to the first owner by chance; thus, resulting in its descent into discourse over ownership (with masters who, surprisingly, rather than fighting for it had been fighting not to have it), and how the whereabouts of the last master was unknown.

You dreamt of contracts and haggling masters and packed bags and demons. The red, red eyes of a demon that watched from the shadows.

As much a part of the mansion as the mansion was part of him.

And you swear that in the depths of your slumber, you felt cold, cold hands graze your skin. Your cheek. Your arms. With his pointed fingernails that were meant to kill.

A candle snuffs out.

You woke up and it was morning, and someone had draped a blanket over you.

.

.

.

Nanami had noticed that you were becoming more and more engulfed in your books. After several more tries to reach a phone signal had failed, you’d resigned yourself to merely waiting for the mechanic to get to you.

He informed you that the road clean up seemed to have been taking longer than usual, given the constant downpour the land was experiencing. And you understood.

After all, you weren’t lacking for anything here at all. Nanami made sure of that.

You’d moved on from the mysterious, and half-recorded, history of the mansion. Somehow more interesting than you might have imagined. On towards the baking book, the novel, even the domestic book.

Until the only thing left out of the book you’d picked was the eerie one about demons. Though you could easily go back and choose another, you weren’t a quitter!

And so you found yourself flipping through its pages, all the while watched over by a silent Nanami.

You begrudgingly admitted that the book had you enraptured. And soon enough, you were drinking in all there was to drink about the rituals it took to summon said demons, the way they could take on the most exquisite appearances, and even a few ‘real life’ recounts of people who’ve encountered them.

“Look at this one, Nanami.” You pointed somewhere on the page, and he leaned over your shoulder kindly to follow your finger. “The person saying they saw a demon here is from this very town, hah! What a coincidence.”

He smiles, “What a coincidence indeed, my lady.”

“Just imagine- meeting a demon. I wonder what it would be like- I’d probably get my soul stolen in an instant.”

“Demons steal souls only after they’ve bound a human in a contract, my lady. Though other methods of payments for a demon’s services can manifest themselves in the form of blood, flesh, sex. They thirst for those things, demons. Going without is almost worse than death- of course, a demon can’t die.” At your slightly stunned silence, Nanami cocks his head. “Chapter sixteen, the ways of the body.”

“R-right.” You start, “Sorry, I just didn’t think you’d be the type to be into such things.”

He bears a secret smile. A secret, secret smile. “There is much that you don’t know of me, my lady.” Nanami spreads butter on a piece of toast without you even asking to, and places it gently down on your plate. “But of course, there is much time to find out.”

.

.

.

It’s by your sixth day that Nanami finally knocks at your bedroom door, deep into the evening. And he informs you that-

“The mechanic shall be here in a few hours, my lady.” You look outside through your window, at the blue and gold night. And of course he notices that little action - he notices everything. “I may have had a hand in the somewhat ah- untimely manner of things. You see, I had pressured him into coming as soon as possible, and it seems that the roads have only just cleared.”

“Oh, I see.” You reply, “I expect I should go down to wait for him in a bit, then.”

“If you so wish, my lady.”

After dinner, you took your demon book with you and paced the halls of the mansion. Just waiting. It was a few hours past when the mechanic was supposed to come, and you could feel yourself getting antsy. No matter how many times Nanami told you the mechanic would be here soon, and that he would take care of it all.

Nonetheless, when you found the corridors thoroughly trodden, you stepped outside. It was a clear night out, and you sat on the porch with your book in your lap.

Reading through the passages in the dim twilight as you waited.

You were on the final chapter now.

“Chapter 22: Fables From the Shadows - Nanami Mansion.

Hearken, o’ mortal. In another story from the deep, the darkness, I entrust your ears with the legend of the Nanami mansion.

Hundred of years old. It stands still, braving the storms and the times, a relic of a past that never changes. And shall never change. Not as long as the mansion is haunted by the ghosts of its past, they say that the very walls of the house are infused with a force unknown.

Or so they say.

No mortal soul can say with utmost certainty when the mansion was built, nor by who, nor for what purpose. Only that the line of its masters has been both gruesome and bloody; history claims that what had once been impassioned family feuds over ownership quickly turned into a family heirloom that no pawn shop would accept.

No soul wished to be the master of a demon.”

A twig snaps.

And you gasp, looking up- though there was no one there. The light that flooded in from the mansion revealed no one outside, and so, shaking, you kept on reading.

The mechanic still wasn’t here.

“Yes, o’ mortal. It is true.

Though one cannot say for certain the dark forces that envelop the house, it is what resides inside that is sure to catch the interest of a demonologist such as you and I.

A demon.

They say that he - or, at least, he who takes the shape of a man - runs the household as if its masters still occupy its decadent bones. As if its masters weren’t taken by the very force that now cleans the windows, and grows pretty flowers in the mansion’s garden. As if its masters still live.

Still linger.

But do not be fooled, dear reader, the only thing that lingers in this household is the demon himself. His smile gentle. His face kindly. It would not be out of the realm of possibility that those of mortal desires, like us, are disarmed by the handsome face he uses to mask his bloodthirst. And he has snuffed the mansion of anything that makes this house a home.”

Someone was watching you.

Somehow, it didn’t feel human.

“One by one, it started with the other servants, centuries ago. Those who were lucky to flee their posts and tell the tale spoke of a shadow that haunted their every waking moment, of a fleeting presence that produced nail marks in the morning, or items in their chambers suddenly unravelled.

He was the model worker, unsusceptible.

And by the time the masters of the household realized, it was far too late for their mortal souls. The servants had disappeared, the livestock had fallen to plague, and the only residents of the mansion were them. And him.”

Someone was waiting.

You knew it didn’t feel human.

“There need not be much speculation on the fates of the owners in the house at the time, after which there was a scramble to pawn the mansion by living relatives.

Though, by that point, rumors of the mansion’s more supernatural occurrences were already beginning to fester, and the effort was futile. 

And though the mansion stands lonely now, never think that it is abandoned, o’ mortal. Perhaps you shall find that the chandeliers are always lit, and the beds are made. Dinners at the mansion are lavish and a-plenty. All of this can be given credit to the demon that runs it, of course.”

You stand up.

The mechanic was countless hours past when he was supposed to come, and you guessed he wouldn’t be making it today, either. Perhaps something more urgent had come up. Your feet step backwards- but something stops you, as if an invisible force. And without taking your eyes away from the page, you step forwards.

“Why this ancient creature torments the mortals that reside in the mansion, yet takes such meticulous care of it is a question unanswered to us. Perhaps we may never know.

Though some whispers claim that the rightful owner isn’t any lord or ladyship or bastard heir. No, not at all. It is - and brace yourselves for this, dear reader - none other than the demon himself.”

Forwards.

“Of course, this is only one theory put forth by demonologists. But as the rightful heir to the estate, the demon takes his time finishing off the foolish mortals that believe that it is theirs to claim. When, in actuality, you are stepping into the very abode of the creature. And no one - no one - has lasted longer than six days in its abode.

A creature that cannot ache. A creature that cannot love.”

Forwards. 

“And he will always have his door open to the ignorant that walk in. Into what one may think is a heaven named after his very self.”

You stop.

“Nanami Kento, of the Nanami Mansions.”

The book drops from your hands.

A scream in your throat, you’re realizing that you’d walked yourself - almost in a trance - right up to the shrub-covered door to the basement. The very same one that Nanami had nudged you away from last time.

Nanami…a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know what to think.

Almost as if it will provide you the answers, you reach out and twist the basement door handle. It creaks out in agony as it opens, and you almost have half the mind to run away right then, right now.

But you’re no quitter. 

In nothing but the pale moonlight, you step inside the basement and make your way down its narrow stairway. They were made of metal, biting through the soles of your slips with each step. You’re squinting your eyes in the darkness, hands reached out in front of you like you’d find something.

And then—

And then, right as you reach the landing of the staircase, you step in something wet.

It almost felt like a puddle after rain. Though the liquid stuck to your slippers, thicker than that. And as you raised your feet, it created a hollow squelch; the viscous sap looked much darker than water was supposed to be.

You gasp. It can’t be-

Lightning strikes.

Just a snapshot of light. Like someone had taken a photograph and burned it into your retinas.

In that split-second, you saw that what you’d thought was a puddle of water wasn’t really water at all. It was red. It was thick.

And it was leading a pathway all the way down to a body in the middle of the basement.

Two-toned hair bled red. Eyes pure white.

The mechanic lay dead on the basement floor. For how long, you weren’t quite sure.

With a scream, you almost slip on the blood as you sprint upstairs. Running out into the pouring rain outside - if you’d been guided in a daze to the massacre, then your brain was working in overdrive to guide you out. 

Slippers squelching. Eyes stinging with rain. You couldn’t even see where you were going, and it reminded you of the night you arrived here.

Yet, you’ll always find the mansion - always. And in almost no time (though it felt like eons to your poor, shivering body), you’re running inside the mansion and slamming! the front door shut.

Body pushed against the door. Lungs heaving. You gulp.

With your eyes downturned, your watch the rich carpet beneath your feet drench with beads of water. Rusted water. Blood.

Fuck. 

You had to get out of here right now. 

Just as soon as the thought has struck your brain, the candles go out. Every. Single. One of them. Startled, you’re whipping around and trying to open the door- bang! bang! bang! It only rattles underneath your hands, firmly shut with unseen bolts and padlocks that you wouldn’t have been able to open no matter what.

And it’s only with the thin glow of the moonlight that you can move your urgent body, one step after the other. Jerky, as if you have to force yourself to do it.

As if you have to fight against some outside force to do so.

You knew that no matter where you went inside the mansion, Nanami would be able to find you. What if you—the balcony.

You gasp, and try to tamper the thought down as swiftly as it had formed. 

Without a second of lingering any further, your feet dart you up the sprawling staircase. Spirals. Heart thundering, feet thudding, and your gasps laborious as you ran towards the bedroom that he had oh-so-graciously given to you.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Steady.

The complete opposite of your own, follow you the closer you get to it. Seeing that gleaming wooden door wink at you from the end of the hallway, like an old friend.

Until, finally, you’re throwing open the door and running inside-

“My lady.”

You howl in terror and it’s swallowed up by the sudden crashing of the storm outside. You hadn’t just raced into your room- you’d ended up bumping into none other than Nanami Kento’s firm, toned chest.

Carefully looping his arms around you.

“You’re-” You hiss, stepping backwards. “You’re a-”

“Yes.”

And then suddenly he’s behind you. Caging you inside the room, with no possibility of running back where you’d come from. 

He looms, larger than life. His shadow walking inside- “I can’t believe you’re a-” You stagger backwards, “So all this time-”

“All this time.” Nanami breathes out, even though you knew that his lungs didn’t need to work. Then he grins and oh- it’s the one thing that you could see completely clearly in the dimness of the night: his stark-white fangs, those crimson eyes, pupils like a snake’s. 

They bore down at you, especially when your limp legs stumble- and Nanami’s right there to steady you. With his inhumanly strong arms capturing your waist, and his chest pressed to yours. 

Oh. 

That low voice of his buries deep within your eardrums, sensual. “And I’ve been waiting…” He practically purrs, and your thighs clench. “-so, so long for you, my lady.”

You feel shivers go down your spine when Nanami nuzzles his nose against your throat, “A- a long time- so you mean that-”

“Yes.”

“Am I an descendant to the owner of this house-”

“Yes.” He sighs out his answers, like it took everything in him. Like he was breathing life into you. And you can’t help but notice that the two of you have edged towards the bed now, and you slightly turn your head to look at the mirror on the wall. “And you don’t know how starved I have been, my lady.”

Only to find that Nanami’s reflection didn’t show up on it.

It looked as if you were standing by yourself, and the blond-haired man (demon, more like) only holds you tighter in response. He murmurs in your ear, “Though enlightening, that book of yours doesn’t hold much truth.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Well-” His fangs glint, “-it does.”

You shiver. Not only with coldness, not only with fear.

Something more akin to a carnal need, with him pressed up against you like this.

“Though, it was wrong about two things-” Nanami’s plump lips graze down the column of your throat, and you wonder whether he can sense the way you grow…wet. “-a demon can yearn, a demon can love.”

Oh. 

One of his overlarge hands drag down your spine, fiddling with the ties of a dress that he’d tailored to your exact size. Perhaps centuries ago.

“And this demon has been waiting for centuries for your soul to return, my lady.”

Your arms tighten on his shoulders, and tender slip up to loop around his neck. “I’m here, Kento.” Your body is boneless in his hold, and he holds you to him like he wants you to be of one soul.

.

.

.

There’s a sodden squeeeeelch as he’s lightly tuggin’ those cute panties of yours aside- how could you even walk around with something so sweet on you?

Nanami feels his oh-so-famished tastebuds start to water at the sight of your pretty, pretty cunt. Just a thin line of drool makin’ its way down the side of his stern lips, mirroring the way that your tight hole was weeping out.

He rubs his glove-clad thumb down the front of your glistening folds, and you whimper at the scratch of its smooth texture. “Have you ever done something like this before, my lady?”

With a mewl, you nod. 

And you can’t help but notice the way that Nanami’s jaw clenches. “I see.” And there’s an inkling of something dark in his tone that you can’t quite pinpoint right now, roverin’ his mean fingerpads just over where your poor clit was. “And, forgive me if this is too forward, but have you ever fully enjoyed something like this before, my lady?”

“Well-” You try to keep your tone even, bucking off the bed. You were all sprawled out with only your drenched panties on, and Nanami Kento was on his knees by the foot of the bed.

On his knees for you.

His lips twitched impatiently, a sort of hunger in his eyes the longer he had to watch your needy pussy cling onto nothing. Continuing, “Well, I’ve liked it before with other people but-”

“Yes, my lady?”

And as you finish off, you slightly duck your head in shame. Whispering the words out (though you knew he’d hear with his demonic senses anyways). “But none of them have ever made me…cum before. I can reach it by myself but with other people- you know.”

“I understand.” You peer up to see the way that Nanami stares kindly at you. Something understanding in his eyes. Something…primal.

And your cunt starts to throb even more once he reaches his dominant right hand up to his mouth, then proceeding to bite down on the edge of his glove, and pull it off with his tongue. So unintentionally attractive. “Then, kindly allow me.”

In a split-second, his thick fingertip is probin’ between your pussylips.

Feeling the hotness of you clenching ‘round him and he groans- “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, madam?” Just the slightest hitch in his tone as he’s then sinking in with a slooooooppy slurp. The kind that leaves your ears ringing and your mouth dropping with each scouring inch he eases in.

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull at the feeling of his tender girth poking your insides. “O-oh my god.” Bucking your hips even deeper into his touch- “How does it feel so good already?”

“Oh, is that so–?” Nanami’s blond lashes flutter in amusement, “But you haven’t felt anything yet, my lady. Won’t you just raise your hips for me-” He guides you, and you’re squirming down his lengthy digits. “-yes, yes. Just like that, keep taking it all, alright?”

“I am I am-” Sobbing.

And you don’t know where you’re bawling more from - your swollen lips on your face, or the ones down below. The ones that he was striking viciously with his mountainous knuckles, every time he thrusted to let the long, solid inches of his finger delve inside.

Inside and inside.

Pushin’ in- he was just so eager to plunge himself inside.

Until the very forefront of his knuckles smacked your pussylips, and Nanami’s ruthlessly pressing his ring finger against your outer cunt. Smooch-smooch-smooching the very round tip of his ring finger against your pulsing clit, until he’s trying to fit that inside, too.

“Easy does it.” Nanami hisses, blond brows furrowing. Beads of sweat start decorating his forehead as he concentrates. “Easy- eeeeeasy. You can take it, my lady.”

And if you thought that the stretch of one of his fingers was enough to drive you wild, then you weren’t ready for two. “Oh my- fuck. You’re so mean.” You whine, holding onto his other gloved hand. Nanami has his fingers romantically intertwined with yours, and you were just clawing at his wrist there. 

The demon raises a brow - devilish. “Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” You rush to blurt out, your hips startin’ to gyrate. It took you a few vulgar strokes to get used to the size of him stretchin’ out your tiniest hidden nooks and crannies open - you swear that Nanami’s fingers were larger than normal. Scouring oh-so-deeply inside. “No no no- keep going. Ngh, you’re a-almost there.”

“Mmm, am I?” His lip curls, “And I wonder if ah- ‘there’ would feel even better with three fingers, hm?”

“O-oh…”

“That’s all you have to say, madam?” Nanami genuinely questions, though there’s a certain waver in his voice that lets you know he was teasing you. He was making your honeyed cunt grow even wetter with how Nanami Kento, of all beings, was being mean to you.

And with a few more slashing strokes, he’s fully opened up the clingy channel of your walls- fuck, he couldn’t even reel his two fingers back without your needy pussy trying to gulp him back up again.

Then with a sudden, soaked squelch you’re feeling a third of his fingertips kiss your tight hole. Tapping just a few times before he instantly presses down on your clit and makes you gasp- “Oh, fuck.”

The perfect moment for Nanami to shove his extended digit inside. All three of them expanding and contracting, scissoring a few times to engrave the crowned edges of his fingers against your most tender spots. “There-” Nanami hisses, between clenched teeth. “There there there-”

You’re suddenly seeing white- why? 

Because on that fourth bludgeon of his, Nanami’s easily locating your g-spot to pummel.

“-you’re taking it all so well, my lady. S’like you’re made f’me…heh.” 

“Shit-” Only blubbering and panting, he’s hittin’ your favorite spot so hard that your vision starts to blue - and you don’t know whether it’s because of tears or the sheer amount of white-hot pleasure that he’s making run through your body. “Shit shit shit shit- oh. Right there, keep going, Kento.”

Yet another smack! to that gooey bundle of nerves—“Ohhh, how I love when you call me that, madam.” Hard.

Push after push after push, and he’s spreading his prying tips so open- letting the doughy edges catch on the crevices of your g-spot. Meanly caressing. 

Even though he’s speeding up, slick dripping down the sides of his overworking wrists like a faucet, you don’t think he misses that lewd target of his even a single time. Push after push after push. Dizzy with the force, you look up n’ find that Nanami’s slitted pupils were glowing.

He was using his demonic powers to perfectly angle the strikes of his fingerpads against your sweetest, sultriest spot. Stickin’ straight against your nerves, you had absolutely no chance of a breather when he was using some sort of x-ray vision to keep your pussy captive.

“Captive?” Nanami reads your thoughts, “Madam, I fear that this isn’t even- hah, half of my speed. Would you like me to accelerate?”

And he does.

And you’re feeling so much bliss at the moment that you can’t stop yourself from anchoring your feet onto the mattress and pushing off- unsure whether you wanted to help meet his cadence or run away—

“Ah ah, what an adorable feat.”

His husky baritone breaks through your hazy thoughts- and before you know it, Nanami’s free hand untangles from yours to grip the sides of your neck n’ tug you right back.

Slapping that cutely sensitive front of your pussy with his knuckles, the demon chuckles darkly as you squirm at the pleasure. “You don’t think you can run away from me, can you, my silly lady?” With a growl, he tightens his restraint on your throat and makes you wince at the lack of oxygen. “You can’t. You won’t.”

And with that, Nanami cranes his watering mouth down to kiss the insides of your thighs. Letting the syrupy-sweet sheen of your slick coat his chin, “I’ve waited for you for centuries, and I’ll wait for you centuries more. I’ll find you.” Tightening. “Don’t think of running, madam.”

“Won’t- won’t-” You squeal out, and through the blurry gaps of your vision you can see the way that Nanami’s salivating. The way that his lips edge towards your heated core, the way he looks like he’s starving the longer he stares down at your cunt. “But, Kento, I do have one request of you.”

He snaps his head up immediately, “Anything, madam.”

“Could you please, ngh-” Your lips wobble desperately as you utter, and Nanami listens enraptured to every word. “-please put your mouth on me?”

And the stern man - a demon, living for centuries, unphased as he waited for your soul to meet him again - lets his mouth drop into a heated ‘oh’ as he registers. As he lets your words throb all the way at his furious cock.

“As you wish, my lady.”

Then you’re feeling the scorching hot sensation of his breath cloud your inner thighs, slithering upwards just in time with his mouth. “As you wish-” Nanami whispers, more to himself - more like a mantra. 

“As you wish, as you wish, as you- mmm.” His mouth slips over the crevice of your cunt, and you’re feeling him perfectly slot his lips with your folds. He cracks his ravenous mouth open, “Allow me to- oh.”

Before immediately shutting himself up after the first candied taste of your cunt. 

He lets his slicked tongue squeeze inside, gulping. “F-forgive me for not finishing my sentence. What I meant was, allow me to-” You buck, shoving him nose-deep between your sultry pussylips. “-oh, fuck. Forgive me, you just have me so…”

And he can’t even finish his sentence like this.

Because every time he’s parting those stern lips of his to speak, yet another glittery wad of your slick slips between that greedy maw of his. Pooling at the back of his mouth like some puddle, he can’t fucking get enough of your sweet, sweet juices. “It’s just- the taste of you. Shit. My lady, and who has allowed you to taste this sinful?” He hums. Guttural.

“Mmm, I dunno. Maybe you should’ve found out earlier-” You say, coyly. And raise your hips up to let his strong, velvety tongue pry inside n’ out. Almost fighting his fingers for space inside.

“Maybe you should’ve appeared earli- oh, fuck.” Shit, did he love hearing your gorgeous voice in conversation. 

But if that meant breaking off his prolonged, open-mouthed kiss with your pussy then he wasn’t wasting any time. He was just slathering his maw widely agape, the flat tastebuds on top of his tongue moving back and forth and all over.

And spearheading just his honed tip inside, the crowned girth of his tongue snakes all the way to your innards. Jostling his own fingers-

You gasp when that only makes him skid his fingertips against your g-spot even further. 

“I promise, I’ll be able to finish my sentences-” Nanami seethes. “-promise I’ll be able to, just with another- mmm, just another taste-” And his tongue lavishly licks up and down your slit. “-and another- oh, maybe one more-”

Again and again.

He’s trying to control himself but he can’t.

His sizzlin’ hot tastebuds probe their way inside, before ultimately pulling out and resting against your clit. Nanami counts your throbbing pulse one-two-three-four times before he starts fucking you with it again.

All three of his digits and his tongue. Swirlin’ in dizzying patterns around and around and drawing a cute heart on top of your nub. Followed right up by his silvery initials—‘N.K.’

You’re shivering, curling the tips of your toes as the fatness of his tongue rolls over your clit. Again and again. And his fingers are just merciless- digging three slender circumferences against the side of your walls, feeling that if he could thrust even deeper to hit the side of your cervix then he would have ages ago. In fact…

“Wh-what are you-” You jump your upper half off of the springy sheets - it was as if your wet dream was coming to life. Nanami was elongating the tendrils of his fingers with supernatural powers, slipping every thorough inch even deeper. “Oh my god- ngh, now that’s just unfair-”

“And yet, I’m not the one that thought of it.” He snickers, plunging his digits further. And further and further. 

So deep, in fact, that you think you can feel his slimy, slick-glazed tips all the way near the back of your throat. Stabbing in thorough thrashes, you huff. “And yet- who’s the one that’s, mmm, pussydrunk, hm?”

“No- no no no, I’m not pussydrunk, madam.” Nanami insists, “Not at all. This is just a slight affliction that I- mmpf.”

You clench ‘round his fingers and that only makes him jerk his face even deeper- thank goodness he didn’t have to fucking breathe, because he was spending all his time swabbin’ away. Using the hand he still had on your throat, he pulls you in incredibly. “It’s not that m’pussydrunk—” Slurring his damn words. “-it’s just that…”

“Mhm—?”

You’re so wet by now that you begin to gush down his face. And Nanami didn’t have blood running through his veins, of course, but you should still feel his cheekbones burn with heat.

You’d made the centuries-old demon blush.

You’d made him gurgle on the slippery wads of your slick.

So completely pussydrunk that the thought of you realizing he was so- and taking your treacly cunt away made him glue his lips to your clit with a slight cry. A slight whimper—“D-don’t take this pretty pussy away from me.” His hand lifts off of your neck to hold onto your thighs, tugging. “Please?”

And as if to prove his point - to prove his desperation - the roverin’ tip of Nanami’s tongue moves even harder against your pussy.

Even faster.

And his scouring fingerpads probe in so deep that you throw your head back with a moan. Those wriggling tips filling up your every orifice, “Yes-” You weave your fingers into his unruly golden locks. “M’not gonna, Kento-” Gasping. “M’not gonna take myself away s-so you don’t have to- oh.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Just so rough with it. “Thank you- thank you- thank you-” 

You swear he’s bruising at the battered innards of your walls, and he’s leaving nail marks for daaaaays upon your thighs. Battling with his own lecherous fingers. Moving his lush tastebuds again and again and again-

“Thank you for lettin’ me taste such a sweet, sweet pussy, madam.” Nanami scorches out against your cunt, slobbering all down it. “Thank you for letting ‘er- ngh, cum all down my tongue.”

“C-cum?” You lift your dazed head at his pussydrunk babbling - only to find that it wasn’t just babbling, after all.

Because Nanami’s honed abilities meant that he could sense when the zapping fireworks at the pit of your stomach grew, he could fucking smell the honeyed fragrance of your cunt growing close. And, sure as day, with a few more vulgar strokes, you’re falling apart on his fingers and his mouth.

Your back arching you even closer against his nuzzlin’ nose, you cry out as your high zaps right through you. “It feels so good- oh, Kento. Oh my g-god.”

“Mmm, the opposite, my lady.” Nanami chuckles, fucking you through every peak of your high- you should have expected that he has a sixth sense for it. And with the soaring peaks of your orgasm, Nanami mazes his fingertips to directly hit your g-spot.

So good.

You’re drooling through your entire high stupidly, your eyes watering through the sensitive pangs of pleasure. Tuggin’ on Nanami’s clammy scalp to pull him in even deeper, and he was more than happy to let himself be moved. To be ridden.

Long, sloppy drag of his tongue making you arch your back. “Sh-shut up-” Mewling out, you let yourself be wrung dry of the waves of pleasure. 

“As you wish, madam.”

And he dutifully listens, there for only your euphoria. To which you respond by elongating your high by grinding down on his face—allll the way from the point of his handsome chin to the tip of his straight nose. “Shit-” You whimper, “Shit shit shit- never felt so good. Never felt like this.”

Nanami groans ‘round your clit, the vibrations sending you into a frenzy.

“M’serious-” You prattle out, your movements eventually slowing. That might just have been the best orgasm of your entire life - you were never going to be the same. “It just felt so good, Kento…wait, you’re not- ngh, done?”

He only shakes his head.

He only lets his slitherin’ tongue lap and lap at the teary crevice of your pussy.

With every lick, you’re feeling your body go into overdrive. Heat flaring. Heart racing. You absolutely thrash against the damp sheets of the bed as he continues- like you’d never even reached your high. 

Just plap after plap after plap of his knuckles against your tender outer pussy- and you start to wonder whether it doesn’t hurt for him. Whether his wrist doesn’t sting. Whether his mouth wasn’t swollen n’ rubbed raw on your drippin’ wet pussy, “Mmm, told me to shut up and make you feel good, didn’t you, madam?” You weren’t entirely sure that that was what you said, verbatim. 

Yet you’re too gone on his silvery tastebuds to bite back anything now. “Y-yes…?”

“And that’s exactly what m’doing.”

He’s overstimulating you even more. Thrusting his tongue between those sopping wet lips of yours to poke at your throbbing g-spot, you swear he’s able to elongate his wet muscle even further.

Slashing against your most tender spots-

“Sh-shit- but m’so sensitive.” Whining out, you half-heartedly attempt to tug him off of your pussy- but it was as if Nanami was plastered to your wettened lips. “I don’t even know if I can cum so soon again, Kento.”

He slightly raises his head - not enough to stop his drivelling mouth, of course - and raises a blond brow. “You don’t know, my lady?”

You shake your head.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

And with that said, he’s fingering you to make a point. Staring at the writhing expressions on your face every time Nanami’s digits plunged inside, they hit the near-back of your pussy with such slurping sounds.

Hit after hit. Teasingly kissin’ against the throbbing spot of your nerves, and that’s when you can feel the fireworks start up again in the pit of your stomach once more-

And that’s when Nanami can sense it.

Smell it.

Taste it- fuck, it was as if you became even sweeter on his tongue any time you were nearing your high. And he doesn’t say a single word - doesn’t waste the time to - only thrashing and thrashing, he hits the bruised area of your g-spot and watches as you fall apart once more.

Pleasure zipping through your body.

Toes curling.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and your mattress was all but drenched with the moisture.

“Oh my god-” You’re all but limp by your second orgasm, letting it wrack your body mercilessly. “You were right-” Your breath hitches. “-ngh, m’cumming again, Kento. C-cumming—”

“Mmm, I know, madam.” Nanami grins, and you can feel it form against the tender folds of your pussy. Branding itself there. “I did that.”

He was mean.

You buck and you buck and you buck as he licks every crevice of your insides, and once he was done fucking you well n’ proper through your other high- the slicked tip of Nanami’s tongue slurps back in once again. As if to do it all over again.

He feels you clench ‘round him urgently, “A-again?” You ask, with a weepy tremble in your voice.

“Mmm, don’t think you can do it a third time?” Nanami gutturally groans out, “D’you wanna find- ngh, find out, hm?”

“Actually…” And he hangs onto your every word. 

Your jittery fingers intertwine with his polished hair, tugging. Continuing where you left off, “I was thinking that m’ready for something else.” He looks on in something that almost looks like disbelief - desperation. As if he couldn’t believe that these words were really spilling out of your mouth. “Wan’ your cock, Kento.”

And something in him seems to…snap.

“A-as you wish, my lady.”

He bows to you, right then and there.

In practically no time - though, to Nanami who’d been waiting for centuries, it only felt like centuries more - you’re being pushed back on the mattress until your head softly nudges the headboard. Nanami heaves himself up on the bed.

And you can’t help but notice that for someone who always looked so prim and put-together, he looked absolutely gone.

Hair sticking up in multiple angles. Eyes half-lidded and drunk. Slick dribbling down the sides of his mouth and down his prominent Adam’s apple. It drops from his fangs, which have now elongated. And lecherously down the front of his suit, which was a darker color than it usually was- drenched in heaps of your mess. In heaps of his mess. 

In quick, severe movements, Nanami takes his suit off. So fast and urgent that you can hear the whooshing sounds of the fabric attempting not to rip at the seams.

When it gets to his pants, your eyes drop down - it’s been a feast for the eyes with every layer that Nanami peeled away. First it revealed those broad, milky shoulders of his. Then it revealed his plush pecs, his ladder-like abs.

Until finally you were following the line of his sparse happy trail down to his thick, aching cock. And fuck- a few profanities leave your mouth, he was the biggest size you’ve ever seen. 

Just about nine inches (perhaps ten), with a plethora of winding veins that made it look as though he’d feel like he was twelve. A thick hilt. Ready balls. And the fat mushroom tip of his cock was glazed in a glittery topping of precum, pulsing primally as the cold air hit him. Dripping. 

“Anything you wish, my lady.”

Shivering at his serious tone of voice, you reach a hand up to your own collar-

Only to be halted in your tracks by an invisible force.

Nanami had one hand raised, his power surging. “Allow me.” He says, and with a harsh brush of his animalistic fingernails, he’s tearing your dress into shreds. Like butter under his touch. Easily falling apart. 

Your dress to your bra, they fall into tatters. And the only thing left is your slick-flooded panties that he scrapes a hand down to tear off, as well.

Before stopping- and seeming to think better of it- “Actually.” Nanami starts, “Keep them on.”

Oh, he was being filthy.

He was being mean.

And before your hazy brain can even register it, your legs are being flapped open. Kept firmly apart by two of his soft hands, feather-light, he pins them to the mattress and lets his slick cockhead slide juuuuust between your pussylips.

Back and forth, back and forth. The weight of his throbbing girth only makes you grow even wetter, and you’re gasping by the time he’s glazed himself up ‘nough to start pushing in.

“Now-” Nanami hisses, fangs grit. His heated body hunches over, and sweat beads down from his forehead to yours. The first feeling of your pussy clamping all ‘round his rock-hard length, and Nanami is a broken man. Slamming his hand down on the top of the mahogany headboard. “Now, madam, we’re gonna have to breathe, alright? Breathe with me now-”

You gasp- “Fuck- fuck, you’re so big-”

“Mhmmm—c’mon, my lady, breathe with me.” And though he was almost falling apart at the seams, he found the ability to string together coherent-enough sentences. Seething. “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in–”

In and out. In and out.

Just like the way that plush, pinkish tip of his was swabbin’ repeatedly- he was pumping out half-ruts, just trying to fit himself inside your pussy.

Opening you up wiiiidely—

You try to follow along with what he says, “Fuck-” But the stretch of the first inch of his cock fitting in was incredible, he was molding his way inwards. Shaping out your snug channel, “But how am I supposed to when you feel like- hah- that-”

“Awww, difficult, hm?” Nanami coos, empathetically. You nod, all teary-eyed and pretty taking his elongated shaft that he can’t help but let himself swell just a lil’ wider. Thicker.

You’re taking this change in size with a moan.

And he ponders to himself for a few more strokes, getting used to the warmth of your cunt. Before humming like he’d just been struck with an epiphany- and soon enough, Nanami’s holding out his strong, vein-covered forearm in front of your line of vision.

Murmuring, “Then bite on it.”

Your eyes widen, “What?” But before you know it, you’re already making use of the demon’s sinful little solution - the next inch that he’s somehow mazing inside you, you’re sinking your teeth into the golden flesh of his forearm and taking it.

“Mmm, just like that.” He pants, squeeze-squeeze-squeeeezing his way past your puckered folds. The globular front of his cock kisses either side of your walls, pinpointing specks of pre everywhere his fingers had touched just moments earlier. “Take it- take it take it take it- sloooow and easy. You’re doing so well, my lady.”

Sensually, he’s managing to let your ravenous cunt swallow up his inches. 

And your sobs hitch after every stroke, it just felt like his fleshy tip was gracing your very lungs. You straddle his slim waist- tugging. “K-Kento…”

“Impatient, are we?” He raises a brow, “You have to take it easy, madam, if we want it to fit- breathe in. Breeeeathe in—”

And every time you did, he was shovelling in a few more inches. But the thing about Nanami Kento is that he made sure he tended to your every need; playfully rolling his thumb over your clit as he pumped himself into your hot core. 

Which meant that he took things slow, took things at a pace that your feverishly needy mind was being infuriated by.

Without warning (though, later on, you’re sure that he’d sensed it coming and simply let you), you lock your ankles around his hips and pull-pull-pull him in. 

And with that, his roverin’ wet shaft.

Bottoming out.

The headboard he’s holding onto cracks under the pressure.

You wanted him deep inside you. And Nanami can only respond by spitting out a line of swears that hits you in a scorching breeze, his face twisting into something of pure ecstasy. “O-oh.” Nanami’s voice stutters. Nanami’s voice cracks. “Ohhh, you shouldn’t have done that, my lady.”

And without further ado, he’s fucking you like a madman.

“Wanted to t-take it easy- you shouldn’t have done that-” He manages to spit out. Body shivering. His cock throbbing angrily right at the spongy platform of your cervix. “You r-really really…” Dazed, slightly, like his body was moving in water, he unhooks his palm from the now-splintered headboard. Then he throws those cute legs of yours over his deltoids.

Letting them lock firmly behind his sweaty neck, Nanami’s bending his ripped body doooooown. Folding you in half, too- you swear you’re hearing a few of your joints pop! 

And Nanami’s only hazily gliding his palm down your limbs, a soothing coldness overcoming them. No broken bones on his watch (even if his body was moving before his mind right now). So there’s no excuse for why you can’t bend in half for him. No excuse for why he can’t press his sticky forehead to yours and drill his hips even harder.

No excuse for the way that rotund tip of his scrapes your cervix with a rapid thud! thud! thud! The tender curve of his ballsack strikes the front of your pussy all raw—

Your mouth waters with the impact, “Y-you’re reaching in so deep, ngh.” But of course he was: he had you manhandled until the caps of your knees hit your tits.

“Mmm, just how you like it- hm?” Nanami chuckles, though there’s a certain pleading tone in his voice. Those drunken, honeypool eyes of his are boring straight into yours, and he memorizes even the slightest expressions you’re making at the massage of his puffy cock. “It feels good? Feels great? Makin’ this pussy feels so- oh, loooovely like she deserves?”

“Yes-” You’re gasping, your throat hoarse at the feeling of his zig-zagged veins that just kept intruding into your deepest hidden crevices. “Yes yes yes yes- yes-”

Somehow, he always managed to find the area that your drippin’ wet cunt needed him the most. Just straightly heading his wet tip towards that spot, and pressing a thorough smooch that made you damn near scream into his mouth.

And it’s then that a sudden thought hits you.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Nanami echoes- fuck, you’d almost forgotten that he could read minds. And with those demonic powers of his, he was echoing out a certain cockdrunken idea that you had. “So you want to know whether I can use my extra vision to hit your g-spot with my, mmm, cock, huh?”

Restless, you nod.

“And you know what you need to- d-do to have me fulfill your wishes—right, madam?” Uttering out - stumbling though his words. 

Shit, even he was affected by the idea.

The ends of his tight fingertips shivering as you finally unfasten your mouth to ask- “C-can you please- ngh, use your powers to hit my g-spot, Kento?” And when you flutter those teary lashes of yours for effect?

Fuck, you might as well just call him a dead man (he was too far gone on your gushing cunt to register the fact that he, technically, wasn’t living).

Because with a sudden, concentrated surrender of his hips- Nanami perfectly angles the blushin’ red end of his shaft. That lil’ divot on the very end streamed out precum that made you splosh around from the inside, “Breathe in.” He rasps, thumb flitting down to press on your clit. “Breathe- out-”

“Oh- oh my–” More like you’re squealing out at the rough jab of his cockhead. The demon’s eyes activate into something glowing when he perfectly targets your needy g-spot.

Snickering. “Breathe in.”

You breathe in.

“Breathe-”

This time, he doesn’t even finish his damn sentence before letting the slit of his shaft snag your sweetest spot. You had so many cute, clingy ridges inside that he loves to stretch out with his sheer girth- and one of them was right by your g-spot that Nanami just kept rubbing and rubbing and rubbing all over.

Wadding out a mess of his precum until your walls likely looked like cobwebs from the inside- “You don’t know what you’re- hah, doing t’me, little mortal.” The fatness of his thumb rolls over your clit, making you see stars. “Have no idea. No- oh, have n-no idea.”

His free hand holds your quivering jaw, turning your face up to look at him and only him.

“You’ve made a demon fall in love with you, my lady. Tut tut.”

You’re squirming in his hold- he was losing control over his body. Unraveling at the seams. Rutting like an animal. Even the smooches of his hardened cock left your insides all bruised n’ battered, swat-swat-swat.

“And not only that—” Nanami continues, in his slightly breathy tone. You half-wondered whether he even knew what he was babbling away- “Oh- not quite, madam. I do apologize.” He answers your unspoken question.

Your breath catches - so he was pussydrunk enough to simply be prattling away. Unthinking.

The spit-slicked edges of his mouth gluing against yours, his tone was absolutely shattered as he mutters into your open maw. “But you’ve made me fall in love with your- your pussy, too.”

As if in response, your dampened cunt lets out some of the most lecherous noises. And you huff out a teasing giggle, “You’re talking as if this is your- mmm, first time, Kento—”

But Nanami doesn’t laugh.

Nanami doesn’t do anything but look at you so-very-seriously.

“W-wait-” Realization starts dawning on you, and you can feel your heartbeaten quicken as it sets in. “Don’t tell me…it really is your first time.” He grins…and nods. “And earlier with your mouth, too- was that-”

“But of course, madam.” The demon breathes, thoroughly ruined on your sweet, sweet pussy. “I did say that I have been waiting- mmm, centuries for you, no?”

Oh, shit.

If this was what he was like when he was inexperienced, then you almost feared to wonder just how good he’d be when he was experienced - with none other than you, you’re imagining. And as if to prove his point, he plunges and plunges his thickened shaft into you.

The plump circumference of his tip fitting against where he was causing your g-spot to indent—hollowing out with his rotund end.

In time with each of his thrusts, Nanami’s fingers pinch your perky clit. You were throbbing with need for him, and his mean thumb drew out so many things right on top of where you were most sensitive.

Swirls n’ hearts n’ his initials.

You could feel the branding of his name stinging against your core, each movement of his fingerpads creating the sloppiest slurps. “Oh, please-” Whimpering, you rut against his glissading abs. “Please please please please-”

“You can’t just say ‘please’ with no- mmm, command.” He chuckles to himself, as if you were the cutest thing in the world. “You have to tell me what you want. Your wish is my command.”

“I want you…”

“Yes—?”

And to utter these very words, you’re dragging him in closer. Touch burning. His breath laborious. You’re pulling Nanami in reeeeeal close and letting his straight nosebridge graze yours, lips tenderly touching yours. “Will you be cumming inside, Kento?”

He nuzzles the crook of your neck, “I shall do so as you wish. But first, don’t you know that you must give a demon permission to- take- a part of you?”

“So you can’t cum inside until I say the word?” You blink, a strange zap of power running through your body.

“That is so, madam.”

And oh- he’s pounding you into the aged bedsprings like he was trying to pound the words out of you. Thumb becoming frenzied on your clit, simply driving you wild. “I see- I- oh, ngh- I see-” A smirk stretches your lips, “And do you want to cum inside, Kento?”

“Not if you don’t wish for me to-” But just then, your cutely heart-shaped insides clench—and Nanami’s cutting himself off with a few rough swears. “Oh, f-fuck- yes.”

As you try to catch your breath, he’s completely losing his.

Again and again and again.

The lines of his veins throb n’ plaster against every ridge inside your velvety walls- “Yes, I do-” From the back of his throat, constant groans wrench. “I do I do I- do-” And each one was punctuated with the most probing jackhammers of his. “Oh, how badly I want to cum inside you.”

Before you can respond, his free hand drags down the front of your stomach. And he rests it easily where that lil’ bulge of his cockhead was thudding into your cervix.

“I need it. I desire it- I desire to stuff you full of my cum right h-here.” And then he presses down to put force on where his cylindrical length was tunneling. “I desire to see you all swollen with my seed, having taken so much that it has no place to go other than to drip onto the sheets.”

You’re squealing, feeling the world spin around you. “Oh- fuck. Please, m’not gonna last long-”

“I desire to feel every wad of cum of mine as I fuck you.” He gruffs out, “I desire to bind you to me forever-” Nanami leans in closer, as if he was whispering a secret to you. “-to let myself be truly yours. For eternity, this time.”

Sounding so pained.

“Let me cum inside, my lady-” He begs now. “I-inside. Let me cum inside, let me cum inside- please.”

“Yes- yes, I want it.” You crash your lips against his, feeling his fangs nip against your lower lip. “You can cum inside, Kento.”

And then with a final few thrusts, you’re exploding into your high.

So powerful that it results in your eyes clenching shut, white behind your vision. Back arching into his chest. You could hear the thundering of your pulse in your eardrums, right along with the husky, attractive groan of your name that Nanami lets off before he, too, finishes.

And you’re feeling it before you’re registering it.

That sultry splash! of something hot and wadded hitting the back of your pussy. It trickles all the way in lines down your cervix, and then ends up overflowing in your snug channel. 

“Oh- oh, you’re really taking it.” Nanami’s hand presses down on your front, eyes activating. “Look at you—swallowing up every single drop. This pretty pussy of yours was- ngh, hungry, hm?”

“Shit, you’re so filthy.” You whine, clawing down his muscular back. And Nanami Kento only smiles like he knew it was true.

After all, he was feeling everything that he’d described earlier - the sploshing of webbed-up seed inside you, the way it glissaded down his shaft. Every line of his veins was coated in ivory sap, and the demon was fucking in each gluey wad inside you.

Your own high is overtaken by his - and you don’t know what else you expected: Nanami was cumming like he hadn’t in centuries.

Just bucketloads of cum that left your mind all stupidly hazy. With each quiver of your own pleasure, you could feel the clingy mess slipping out of your hole. It created this intricate white ring ‘round Nanami’s hilt that he’s thumbing away with a smile.

Pushing dooooooown- “S’taken.” Nanami breathes, somewhat in awe as he gazed down adoringly at where your womb was. With those powerful eyes of his. “Fuck yes, s’taken, my lady. I’m so proud of you.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes.”

“F-fuck.”

He watches as that white hot mess dribbles down his fingerpads, and he says—“Stick out your tongue, madam?”

Slightly befuddled in the aftermath of your high - nothing more than a few sensitive twinges at the pit of your stomach by now, oh, he’d dragged it out so perfectly with his ready cock - you do as he says. And in a few sultry seconds, Nanami has his cum-glazed thumb sticking in his own mouth. Said mouth of his edging even closer to yours to spit.

And then he kisses you fully.

You moan, shocked by his sinful, sinful antics.

And it’s only then that you start to feel a strange rush go down your skin. It’s only then that you feel atoms stop in attention around your body, where yours met his.

So caught up in the feeling, you barely even notice when Nanami finishes riding out his own high. Each n’ every ounce of his sap pushed thoroughly into your deepest innards. And he was so proud of it- no, you’re too caught up in the fact that you knew that.

In that fact that you knew he was proud.

You could sense it.

You could remember it: fragments of a time spent in this very mansion, that didn’t include the last few days. A flourishing garden where you stole kisses. Pale blond hair in the darkness of this very bedroom. The screams of the scullery as they found out. Blood. A new life. You remembered it - not all, it came to you slowly.

With a gasp, you’re pulling back to look at your hands; they looked as normal as always, except for a strange tingle of…something that left you feeling like you could smash this very bed frame if you tried to.

Wait- you turn your head to the mirror on the wall, only to find that…nothing was there. Nothing but the room, in all its emptiness.

For mirrors don’t reflect demons.

“You’ve made me a-” You gulp, and he purrs in affirmation. “-a demon.”

“I’ve contracted us for life, my lady.” Nanami responds, “Look here.”

He taps his index down on the spot where his palm had been plastered mere moments ago, where he was feeling for his cum sprayin’ out into your womb. And as you look down, you can see that your skin was emblazoned with a glowing purple mark of supernatural sorts. Swirling spirals and hearts: you were branded.

“And here.”

You raise your eyes to where Nanami had stuck his tongue out now- and there it was. A matching tattoo (symbol? Branding?) that matched the one you had, right in the middle of his tastebuds.

Two peas in a pod.

Two demons in a mansion.

You could feel the exact moment that Nanami’s cock throbbed at the fact that you were growing even wetter at the notion - a soul that was formerly yours, shared now, for eternity. And you’d spend it all with this handsome man, in a mansion that would never crumble.

“I can smell it on you—” Nanami snarls, canines showing as his lips twist into a feral snarl. He gives another squelching thrust, “We’re going to have a looooong few centuries to make up for, my lady. Mistress of the house.”

.

.

.

“Chapter 22: Fables From the Shadows - Nanami Mansion. (Cont’d)

And yet, the tale of the scorned heir is only one theory seeking to explain the existence of this deeply demonic yet tragic figure of Nanami Kento.

I think you will find, dear reader, that this author in particular is quite inclined to believe a much lesser-known theory. It is one slightly less blood-curdling, though with no less a flare of drama: the theory of the scorned lover.

Though most records of interviews with the original servants that served the Nanami Mansions have been lost to time, what few have been procured did speak of what has been aforementioned in this chapter. Yet, it is in the footnotes that the most jarring pieces of information start to reveal themselves.

They speak of a rather different character to the demon, Nanami Kento. A demonic yet agreeable character: sharp, sensible, no less human (or at least acted so) than the other humans that it worked alongside, keeping the mansion shining like a crown jewel.

And perhaps most representative of the demon’s humanity of all, was the way in which he fell - and quite hopelessly, it is said by one worker - for the daughter of the mansion’s master. Her name— And her wits, her laugh, her kindness seemed to have enraptured this demon. And it makes us think that, perhaps, even the most hellish creatures of all are asinine in the face of love.

Love makes a fool of us all.

And yet, there is a reason that demons do not fall in love.

For once this secret dalliance was discovered by the household, it is said that the master was enraged - till one could not tell the difference between human and demon. In the owner’s fitful anger, some say that the dishonored daughter was made a sacrifice of, others justify that she was discarded from the mansion, never to be seen again.

Whatever the result of misplaced love (perhaps it was not misplaced, after all, who are we, as mortals, to judge?), the demon had lost her.

And that loss manifested into grief, that grief manifested into anger. The once-proud stone pathway to the Nanami Mansions painted itself red, and it has not had a master since.

They say that Nanami Kento still roams the empty halls, and keeps the house a home, in wait of his lost lover. 

As for the fate of them, only time will tell. 

Do you believe in reincarnation, o’ mortal? For, demons certainly do. And if a soulless being could not love a mortal centuries ago, perhaps there is hope that her soul may find him once more. Whether by accident, or by chance, or by fate altogether. Demons always are quite stubborn.

And perhaps, this time, they may love one another as two souls who have ever loved one another should. As one. 

This author, in particular, chooses to believe that their souls are already one. For there is a home for every lost soul, doors and arms wide open.”

—Of Demons and Servitude: The Hellish Agelong Contracts That Surpass Love by Sebastian Michaelis.

A/N. Was technically supposed to be posted last month but ah-