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mostly-imagines · 10 months ago

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Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steels his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

Hood stands, making his way across the room casually. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

#these are all wildly different lengths my b #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd the doberman #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction

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gorjee-art · 9 days ago

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i knowww charles is a giant wall of man meat that could easily kill me

but also i want to squeezeeee him

it's like hugging two pillows that have been sitting in a smoker's lounge...

#dogs dinner responses #oc - claire corielle #oc - charles bonnet #art #artists on tumblr #artist #oc #ocs #dogs dinner

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wingyattium · 2 months ago

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*+ᵎᵎ 🍊⋅ ˚✮ — 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 | 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲.

+ᵎᵎ 𝐬𝐲𝐧: it’s holiday season at the burrow again, and mrs. weasley is concocting the most delicious-smelling dinner — but fred is hungry for something a little sweeter.

+ᵎᵎ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭: approx 2.4k (i got carried away), 18+, smut, fem!reader, afab!reader, established relationship, some fluffy stuff, reader wears a skirt, oral/cunnilingus + fingering, needy!fred, service!fred, simp!fred, he’s obsessed w/ you okay (can you blame him?), pet names (love, doll, baby), bathroom oral sex, hold the moan, cum eating, dirty talk/language, i think that’s all pls lmk if you see something!

+ᵎᵎ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: aaaaaah thank you so much for the response on my last post!! it means so much!! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy! much love and tiny tits, leah 💕💋

holidays at the borrow were always lively and cluttered — the family had extended past just the ginger members, adopting the likes of hermione, harry, and, of course, yourself. so many bodies tucked into a space not quite fit for the numbers.

so getting to the bathroom that evening proved to be a great task that required shouldering past adults and narrowly avoiding screaming children just to get to the staircase; which your bladder was ecstatic to find was barren.

you could still hear the chatter from downstairs as you closed the door and relieved yourself, the scent of pumpkin pie and delicious roast slipping through the bottom of the door a motivator to quickly clean yourself up and trod back down.

but when you opened the door, your hips were immediately gripped and you were pulled flush into a hard body — you tried to exclaim, but soft, cold lips pressed against yours and halted the sound.

you recognized them instantly, and you had no hesitation in popping your lips open when a hot tongue teased the seam. you even released a small, breathy moan when it slid across yours, lighting your skin up immediately.

you only allowed a few seconds of lip smacking before you pulled away; fred groaned unhappily but let you do so, blue eyes dancing when you looked into them.

“a ‘hello’ could have sufficed,” you teased, lips still burning from the phantom weight of his. fred’s brows met his hairline and he scoffed.

“oh, so my brand of greeting is unsatisfactory?” he demanded coyly, and you rolled your eyes.

“well, i didn’t say that,” you murmured as you wrapped your hands around his neck, lacing your fingers together against his nape. “but we are kind of standing above your family right now.”

fred glanced down briefly then met your eyes again with a dopey grin. “silly me, i thought we were standing on the floor.”

“idiot.” you whispered fondly, leaning up to slot your lips with his; it was chaste, but it still had your stomach erupting with butterflies — something fred somehow managed to do often.

“what can i say? i missed you.” fred murmured against your mouth, fingers tightening on your hips. you laughed lightly.

“it’s only been a little over a week.” you reminded him as you pulled away again, though deep down, you mirrored the sentiment. even an hour away from fred felt like too long, your soul and body aching more with every second that ticked by.

“that’s like, what — a decade in dog years?” fred teased, eyes mirthful and lips pulled into a small smirk. your eyes fell to them immediately, a sort of heat roiling in your gut.

“not quite,” you quipped back distractedly, eyes still glued to his lips. you already missed the taste of them.

as if reading your mind, fred leaned down and sealed his mouth against yours, lips coaxing yours into a slightly wet dance. his tongue teased at the seam, asking for entrance, for the permission to deepen it — and despite the fact that the two of you were very much still standing in the middle of the hallway, you granted it to him.

fred groaned as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. it was wet, hot, and a little sloppy — a weeks worth of pure need and want puppeteering his every movement when he slipped a hand up to cup the back of your head.

a shrill, excited shriek from the floor below ripped you back to the present before you could get lost in the fog that was creeping into your brain, and you pushed at fred’s chest.

“fred, we should get back down there,” you whispered, attempting to pull yourself from his tight grip. fred thinned his lips in a faux expression of consideration, then sent you a sly grin.

“nah, i’ve got a better idea.”

before you could question him fred corralled you into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him and turning the lock with a soft click.

“fred—!” you gasped out indignantly, though you didn’t complain or resist when he easily lifted you up onto the counter and slotted himself between your thighs.

fred held your gaze for a few seconds, large hands resting against your hips, breath ghosting over your face when he murmured, “is this okay?”

you swallowed and bit your lip; part of you was screaming ‘hell no!’ — and the other part, the much larger and much louder part, roared ‘fuck yes!’

desire is a very strong and hot fire, capable of burning away any inhibitions and doubts, no matter how pressing they were. so, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to you when you leaned up and slotted your lips to fred’s in lieu of a verbal answer.

fred immediately melted into you and groaned, the sound vibrating your lips and pulling out a soft mewl from you in response.

fred pressed closer to you, heat blooming against your clothed cunt from the pressure of his bulge straining through his jeans; you’d barely done anything and he was so hard, so ready to simply pound you into oblivion. gods, that sounded absolutely wonderful.

“we have to be quick,” you mumbled breathlessly, receiving a small grumble in assent from fred.

you couldn’t help but feel as though he sounded a bit distracted and aloof, and you wondered if he even actually understood the situation the two of you were in.

or the pure mortification you’d undoubtedly experience should you get caught — it had all probably been shoved from his head by heady want.

“fred—,” you uttered, a bit more urgently, but fred cut you off with a small ‘shh.’

“i heard you love,” fred mumbled before you could reprimand him, lips sliding from yours to kiss along your jaw. “i’ll make it quick; i promise. then you can get back to my mum and your riveting debate about the many benefits of silk yarn.”

there was a tease in his voice, one that had you flushing; so he had heard your conversation with molly. he must have been eavesdropping.

“that’s a — hah, fuck, — nasty habit, fredrick.” you chided, soft pants leaving your lips as fred trailed kisses down your neck. when he reached your pulse point he suckled and licked, and hot electricity skirted over your skin.

fuck, you’d missed being so close and intimate with him. you were already starting to drool from below.

“yeah? i have a lot of those, apparently,” fred bit back playfully, his long, cool fingers skimming the hem of your thick shirt. your skin was heating so rapidly you started to feel as if you were in a sauna — that’s just the effect he had on you, you supposed.

fred pulled away from your neck and pressed his lips to yours chastely; but then your heart skipped a beat when he dropped down to his knees, now eye level with your covered cunt. his hands slid from your hips to rest atop your thighs, and his eyes were dark when he flicked his gaze up to meet yours.

“you’ve been teasing me all day, doll.” he rumbled, thumbs drawing gentle circles into your flesh. you scrunched your brows.

“what—? how?” you whispered, confusion briefly slicing through the haze of horniness — but then fred fingered the hem of your skirt, and you understood.

“this damn skirt, baby. looks way too good on you.” fred said hotly, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. you trembled and your cunt pulsed, breath hitched and a bit short.

fred chuckled against your skin, well too versed in the effect he had on you. kisses peppered your thigh as fred worked his way up, each inch of space covered raising your blood level and pulling more ooze from your pussy.

“bloody hell, i jus’ wanna taste you.” fred groaned, rucking your skirt up almost impatiently. when your panties were exposed to him he drew in a sharp breath. “merlin, doll. you’re soaked.”

your hips rocked forward when fred slid a finger up your clothed cunt, and you whined lowly. you needed him, and quick.

“shh, doll. i won’t tease you. lift up a bit.” fred gently ushered, gripping your panties and sliding them down your thighs slowly when you lifted them — cool air blew against your clit and pulled a soft sound from you.

“so pretty, love. all wet f’me.” fred cooed, fingerpad splitting open your folds and gathering the sticky slick there. you gasped and muttered, “thought you weren’t going to tease me,” a bit petulantly.

“couldn’t help it, baby. you’re so cute like this.” fred rumbled, but otherwise kept to his word; he shouldered your thighs open further and nuzzled into your cunt, tongue quickly replacing his finger between your folds.

you let out a small, whimper-y gasp when fred lapped up your slit, tongue hot and wet and incredibly insistent when it lapped over your clit.

“shit,” you mewled, hand shooting down to card through his hair. “fuck, fred, please — we gotta be fast.”

the house was still lively downstairs, a constant reminder of the situation you were in, and there was a tiny pebble of fear cast into the rushing river of arousal; you didn’t want to get caught.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you.” fred reassured, voice husky and rolling, slick sounds floating up from between your legs as he flicked his tongue over your clit quickly.

your back arched from the assault to the sensitive bundle, fingers subconsciously tightening within ginger strands. fred let out a deep, rumbling moan against your cunt at the stimulation, serving to only stir you up more.

“taste s’good,” fred moaned, tongue dipping down briefly to lick up your slick before returning to your clit. your legs were already shaking, toes curling in and gut tightening. fred was too fucking good with his tongue.

“holy fuck, fred,” you whined out, cheeks heated from everything — the hot air in the bathroom, fred’s tongue against your clit, the slick slurping sounds of being devoured — it was so sloppy and filthy, everything you could have wanted.

everything you needed and loved.

fred hummed against you and you could hear the smirk in his voice when he mumbled, “feel good, love? my tongue’s makin’ you feel good, isn’t it?”

the only response you could muster was a flustered moan; it was certainly a rhetorical question. you were a moaning, whimpering mess, and your cunt was producing oozy slick faster than fred could lick it up — how good you felt shouldn’t even be an inquiry.

it did feel absolutely wonderful, but you doubted you could cum quick from it; and as if reading your thoughts, fred prodded at your soaked pussy with two fingers.

they slid knuckle deep into your walls easily, aided by spit and slick, and fred was quick to set a fast rhythm — the one that would make you cum quick.

it was a deadly combination; that wicked tongue and those long fingers working your pussy over so deliciously, the schlurps and slick smacks of fred’s lips as he licked and suckled your clit, the thrill of doing such a lewd thing when you could get caught by anyone, at anytime —

“fred,” you gasped out as he curled his fingers up, fucking them into that mushy spot inside you over and over, making you clench your legs around his shoulders in pleasure. that coil was tightening to an almost painful degree, your orgasm practically being yanked out of your body by fred’s skilled movements.

“cum, doll. i know you’re about to, so don’t hold back.” fred crooned between sloppy licks, fingerfucking you even faster — it wasn’t even a question of if you were going to cum, only when; and when happened to be after two solid pumps and three quick licks.

“fuuuuck, don’t stop— ‘m coming!” you whined as that coil snapped, sticky, slick fluid oozing from your cunt and coating fred’s chin and fingers. you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking into his face as you rode out the waves, body crackling with electricity and satisfaction.

fred groaned deeply as he lapped at your pulsing cunt, swallowing down your cum as if he were dehydrated — he was mumbling the whole time, praising you, your taste, your beauty; it certainly wasn’t helping with those waves pulling at your body.

“fred,” you mumbled, pushing at his head weakly. he’d stopped pumping his fingers, but in his attempt to lap up all your essence, he was throwing you into overstimulation — and had the two of you not been locked in a bathroom right above his family, you would have liked to see just how far he could push your body before you broke.

but the circumstances didn’t support that kind of lewd curiosity.

fred let you push his head away and pulled his fingers from your fluttering walls slowly, mindful of your current state. “‘m sorry, dove.” he mumbled as he rose to his feet, chin and lips shiny from a culmination of your slick and his spit. it was erogenous and somewhat embarrassing.

your clit was still throbbing with a second heartbeat, the waves of pleasure calmer but still present, and you were quite thankful for fred’s offered assistance with slipping down from the counter.

sliding your panties up proved to be a little difficult considering the weakness in your legs, but with fred’s help you were able to get them up fairly easily (and quickly.)

“we should probably get back down there, yeah?” fred suggested as if he hadn’t been the one who practically cornered you into oral sex. you scowled playfully and nodded.

“yes, just as I suggested ten minutes ago.” you retorted, earning a scoff from fred.

“more like two minutes ago. it didn’t take me eight minutes to make you cum, thank you very much.”

“no, it only took you eight minutes to get between my legs and prove your mouth is useful for more than just jesting.” you quipped as you straightened yourself out.

fred opened his mouth to retort, but you’d successfully landed the last word in the verbal scuffle when molly’s voice rang out, “dinner’s almost ready!”

you sent fred a flirty wink as you unlocked the door and slipped out, ordering him to wait a few minutes before coming down as to deflect any suspicion.

you just barely caught his mirthful utterance of “little vixen,” before you traipsed down the stairs, highly satisfied and praying that it didn’t show to everyone else in the weasley residence.

#*+ᵎᵎ 🍊⋅ ˚✮#harry potter x reader #hp x reader #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley smut #harry potter #harry potter smut #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader

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carnalcrows · 1 month ago

Text

BABYSITTER - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x male reader

synopsis: When a broke college student takes a babysitting gig, he signs up for snack time and bedtime stories—but ends up with bloodstains, cryptic employers, and an unsettling crush on the kid’s disturbingly hot dad.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, blackmailing, blood, anal, breeding, creampie, missionary, mating press, dubcon, mentions of kidnapping, too much plot

word count: 5.2k (good lord)

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon when you found yourself perched in the corner of the campus café, a half-empty cup of cold coffee sweating onto the table beside your laptop. Bills, tuition, and the general weight of adulthood had a way of pressing down on your shoulders, leaving you in a constant state of mild panic. You scrolled through job listings with the desperation of someone clinging to a lifeboat.

Barista? You had already been rejected twice due to your “lack of experience.”

Retail? They wanted you available on weekends, which wasn’t feasible with your study schedule.

Dog walker? Allergic to fur.

The list grew more depressing as the minutes ticked by, until one particular post caught your attention:

"Babysitter needed. Flexible hours. Payment upon services rendered. Serious applicants only."

There was no company name, no attached image of a smiling family, not even a hint about the age of the child you’d be babysitting. The simplicity of it screamed sketchy, but the promise of payment dangled in front of you like a carrot on a stick.

“Desperate times,” you muttered, clicking on the post.

The application form was equally bare-bones, asking only for your name, availability, and a short paragraph about why you wanted the job. You quickly typed something generic about being responsible and good with kids, then hit send without much hope.

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.

"You’re hired. Start tomorrow at 3 PM. Address: [Redacted]."

You stared at the screen, bewildered. No interview? No background check? Either this was the world’s most desperate parent, or you were walking into a scam. A friend texted you moments later, asking if you’d found a job yet, and you decided to leave out the details when you replied,

"Yep, starting tomorrow."

The afternoon sun was scorching as you made your way up the steps of the quaint suburban house. The place had a sort of storybook charm—a neat lawn, pastel shutters, and a small porch swing swaying lazily in the breeze. If it weren’t for the suspiciously vague job listing you’d answered, you might have thought you were walking into a feel-good rom-com instead of a potentially shady situation.

You knocked on the door and waited. Seconds ticked by. You shifted awkwardly, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting hidden cameras. But just as you were about to knock again, the door flew open with surprising force, revealing a little girl standing barely taller than the doorknob.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, her voice so cheerful it nearly gave you whiplash. “Are you the babysitter?”

“Uh… yeah,” you replied, startled by the sheer intensity of her enthusiasm. “That’s me.”

“I’m Su-an,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest. “Come in! I was just having a meeting with my council!”

Before you could even ask what she meant, she grabbed your hand and tugged you inside. The house was warm and cozy, if a little cluttered, with toys scattered across the floor and crayon drawings taped haphazardly on the walls.

---

“This is Mr. Snuggles,” Su-an announced, holding up a ragged teddy bear with one ear chewed off. “He’s the president of my council.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding solemnly. “And what does the council do?”

“Important stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes like she was letting you in on a state secret. “Like deciding who gets cookies after dinner. Also, they voted to make you the assistant.”

You blinked. “I don’t remember running for office.”

“Well, you didn’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “But Mr. Snuggles said you looked like you’d be good at it.”

Before you could protest, she shoved the bear into your hands and pointed to a tiny table covered in a chaotic mix of crayons, plastic teacups, and a single half-eaten cookie.

“Sit,” she ordered. “The council meeting is starting!”

---

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a whirlwind of nonsensical games and increasingly bizarre “council decisions.” At one point, you were ordered to wear a paper crown (which barely fit) and were dubbed the “Official Snack Prince.” Your royal duties included distributing Goldfish crackers and ensuring everyone—stuffed animals included—got an equal share.

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Su-an said, eyeing you critically as you handed Sir Fluffington his crackers. “Better than my last babysitter.”

“Oh?” you asked, curious. “What happened to them?”

“They couldn’t handle the council,” she said gravely.

---

After the meeting adjourned, Su-an decided it was time to “train” you in the art of hide-and-seek. You played along, even though she kept hiding in the same spot: under the dining table, her giggles giving her away every single time.

“Found you again!” you said, crouching down to peer under the table.

She gasped, genuinely shocked. “How are you so good at this?!”

“It’s a gift,” you deadpanned, earning another round of giggles.

---

When hide-and-seek got old, she declared it was “dance party time.” She dragged you to the living room, where she plugged in her favorite playlist on an ancient speaker. The first song was a pop hit you vaguely recognized, and before you could even protest, she was already twirling around like a whirlwind.

“Come on!” she yelled over the music.

“I don’t dance,” you started, but she shot you a look so devastatingly adorable that you had no choice but to join in.

What followed was ten minutes of the most ridiculous dancing of your life. Su-an moved like she was powered by pure chaos, flailing her arms and jumping around, while you attempted something resembling the robot. She laughed so hard she tripped over her own feet, and you had to catch her before she face-planted into the couch.

---

As the day wore on, you found yourself genuinely enjoying her company. She was smart, funny, and had the kind of boundless energy that made you wonder if kids ran on caffeine instead of juice boxes.

By the time bedtime rolled around, you were exhausted. Getting her into pajamas was an ordeal—she insisted she couldn’t sleep without her “lucky socks,” which turned out to be mismatched and buried at the bottom of her toy chest. When you finally tucked her in, she stared up at you with wide, sleepy eyes.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked, clutching Mr. Snuggles to her chest.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll be here.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

---

As you made your way back downstairs, you felt a surprising sense of accomplishment. Babysitting wasn’t what you’d imagined yourself doing, but something about Su-an’s infectious energy and genuine joy made it worth it.

You tidied up the living room, stepping over plastic dinosaurs and rogue crayons, and couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. If every day was going to be like this, maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

And so, your days with Su-an became a routine. Every afternoon, she greeted you at the door like an excited puppy, launching into a new scheme or game. One day, she decided you were a dragon and she was a brave knight. The next, you were her art teacher, helping her draw increasingly absurd animals like “dog-o-sauruses” and “cat-icorns.”

One particularly memorable day, she tried to teach you how to braid her hair. It did not go well.

“Why are there so many strands?!” you groaned, your fingers tangled in her hair.

“It’s easy!” she said, giggling. “You just go over, under, over, under!”

“You sound like a cryptic math teacher,” you muttered, earning another round of giggles.

---

The days passed in a blur of laughter and chaos, and soon, you found yourself looking forward to your afternoons with Su-an. She made you forget about your stress, your bills, and your endless to-do list.

Still, a question lingered in the back of your mind: where was her dad during all of this? But for now, you were content to let the mystery be. After all, it was hard to worry about much when you had a six-year-old demanding you be her “Royal Snack Advisor.”

It was one of those rare evenings when the air felt just right—not too cold, not too warm, with a soft breeze that carried the faint smell of grass and distant barbecues. Su-an had begged to go to the park after dinner, and you’d caved, eager to get some fresh air and give her a chance to burn off her endless energy.

“Push me higher!” Su-an squealed as she swung back and forth, her legs pumping excitedly. You stood behind her, laughing as you gave the swing a gentle push.

“Higher, huh? What are you trying to do, touch the clouds?”

“Maybe!” she shouted, giggling as the swing reached its peak.

The park wasn’t crowded—just a few other families and joggers scattered around. It was peaceful, the kind of evening where you could almost forget the strange tension that sometimes hung around the house, the questions you tried not to ask about her father’s late-night comings and goings.

But the peace didn’t last.

As you helped Su-an off the swing and she dragged you toward the monkey bars, a commotion near the edge of the park caught your attention. At first, you thought it was just a group of people arguing—a not-uncommon sight in the city. But then you saw him.

Your heart stopped.

There, in the dim light of a flickering street lamp, was a man—the man. His tall frame was unmistakable, even in the shadows. He stood over a small group of disheveled, huddled figures, who you quickly realized were homeless people. A plastic bag lay torn at his feet, loaves of bread spilled across the ground.

He wasn’t just standing there. He was stepping on the bread.

Your breath caught as you watched him stomp down with deliberate, almost mechanical force, grinding the food into the dirt. The homeless group stared in silence, some in shock, others looking away as if too defeated to protest.

“Isn’t that Daddy?”

The innocent question cut through the haze of disbelief like a knife. You snapped your head down to look at Su-an, her wide eyes fixed on the scene with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“No,” you said quickly, your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s not.”

“But—”

Before she could finish, you crouched down and gently placed your hands over her eyes. “Let’s go, Su-an. We’re leaving.”

“Why can’t I look? What’s wrong?” she whined, squirming in your grasp.

“Because it’s not safe,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you picked her up and started walking away, her protests muffled against your shoulder.

Your mind raced as you carried her toward the car. What had you just witnessed? That couldn’t have been him—could it? But the silhouette, the way he carried himself—it was all too familiar.

You buckled Su-an into her car seat, doing your best to distract her with promises of ice cream and cartoons when you got home. But even as she babbled happily about her favorite flavors, your hands trembled on the steering wheel.

By the time you got back to the house and put Su-an to bed, your heart was still pounding. You paced the living room, replaying the scene over and over in your head. The way he’d crushed the bread underfoot—there had been no hesitation, no anger, just cold, calculated precision.

Who does that?

And more importantly, why?

The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you shifted on the couch. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but between your classes, assignments, and Su-an’s boundless energy, exhaustion had taken its toll.

It was the sound of the front door slamming that jolted you awake. Disoriented, you blinked into the darkness, the faint glow of the kitchen light casting long shadows across the room. Footsteps echoed through the hallway—heavy, deliberate, and nothing like the hurried, near-silent ones you were used to from the man of the house.

You sat up, your heart beginning to race. Something wasn’t right.

When he appeared in the doorway, your stomach twisted into a knot. His usually pristine white shirt was drenched in blood, the vivid crimson staining the fabric and dripping in thick, uneven streaks. His face was ashen, his dark eyes wild and unfocused, like a man teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, instinctively backing away as the metallic tang of blood reached your nose.

“It’s not my blood,” he said curtly, his voice gravelly and sharp.

As if that was supposed to make you feel better.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” you said, your voice trembling despite your attempt to sound firm.

He staggered toward the kitchen, his movements unsteady but purposeful. Against every ounce of self-preservation screaming at you to stay put, you got up and followed him.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your tone softer this time.

He didn’t respond, instead gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady himself. The dim light overhead cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more unapproachable than usual.

“Sit down,” you said, surprised by the steadiness of your own voice.

He turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you, but then he surprised you by obeying. He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step cost him.

You grabbed a damp cloth from the sink, your hands trembling slightly as you wrung it out. You weren’t sure why you were doing this—why you weren’t running out the door or calling the police. Maybe it was the way he looked, like a man who had seen too much, or maybe it was the faint vulnerability hiding behind his hard exterior.

“This... isn’t normal,” you muttered, more to yourself than him, as you began wiping the blood from his face. The cloth came away dark and sticky, and your stomach churned.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with things you don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warning edge.

You paused, meeting his gaze. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, filled with something unreadable—a mix of exhaustion, anger, and something else that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m here,” you said, almost defiantly, as you moved to clean his hands. “So I’m already concerned.”

He didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease ever so slightly.

The silence between you grew even heavier, the only sound now being the soft movement of the cloth against his skin. Your hands were shaking slightly as you worked, wiping the blood from his face, his hands, but his eyes never left you. They were intense—piercing, almost as though he were searching for something in your expression.

You couldn’t look away for long. The tension in the air thickened with every passing second, your heartbeat picking up, each thud echoing loudly in your ears. It was like being drawn into a web you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

When you finally stepped back, giving him space, you thought you’d be able to breathe again. But then, his hand shot out, quick as lightning, wrapping around your wrist. The touch was firm, deliberate, sending an involuntary jolt of electricity through your veins. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. His fingers were cold against your skin, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart race.

"Why are you helping me?" His voice was low, gravelly, and for a moment, you wondered if he was testing you—seeing if you’d reveal the truth, or maybe if you’d run.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was hammering, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity. The heat between you both felt suffocating. His touch was grounding, yet it stirred something dangerous inside you. “Because someone has to,” you replied, your voice steady, though you could feel the words slipping off your tongue more as a defense than truth.

His gaze deepened, darkening in a way that sent a chill down your spine. The air between you was thick, electric, as if there were an unspoken promise between you both—a promise you knew you were too afraid to fully acknowledge. Then, before you could even react, he pulled you in close. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

And then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision, desperate and overwhelming, like a dam that had been holding back too much for too long and was finally breaking free. His kiss was messy—almost violent—as if he needed to consume you, to claim you in a way that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter. His lips were demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your body tremble.

You should’ve pushed him away, told him to stop, told him that this was wrong. Your mind screamed at you to break free, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him instead, matching the fervor of his kiss. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, his grip tightening. Your breath was ragged between kisses, and your pulse pounded in your ears as the world outside of the two of you seemed to vanish.

When he pulled away, just far enough to catch his breath, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving. You couldn’t think. All you could feel was the lingering heat of his touch, the undeniable thrum of desire that still buzzed beneath your skin. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something in them—something dark, dangerous, but...hungry.

His lips curved into a smirk, and it sent a jolt of unease running down your spine, mingled with something else, something deeper.

“You’re in over your head, kid,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your back.

The words should’ve been a warning. They should’ve sent you running. But instead, they only lingered in the air between you, wrapping themselves around you like a noose. You should’ve known then, but you didn’t want to listen.

And for the first time, you realized: you were already tangled up in his web, and maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want to escape.

The obsession grew in subtle ways. You’d arrive to find unexpected gifts waiting for you on the kitchen counter: a sleek leather wallet, a watch so expensive you didn’t dare wear it, a bottle of cologne that smelled like a storm breaking over the ocean.

When you tried to protest—“This is too much” or “I can’t accept this”—his expression would shift. His jaw would tighten, his eyes darkening with something that made your chest tighten.

“Take it,” he’d say, his tone brooking no argument. And you’d always comply, your words catching in your throat as he gave you a look that said refusing wasn’t an option.

Your feelings about him became a tangled mess of contradictions. Every instinct screamed that something about him was wrong. The blood, the cryptic way he spoke, the chilling bread incident in the park—they all painted a picture of a man you should stay far away from.

But then there were the moments that left you reeling. A lingering glance, a brush of his hand against yours, the way he could soften—just slightly—when he saw you with Su-an.

The first time he kissed you, you felt like your world had been turned inside out. It was sudden, overwhelming, and left you breathless. His lips were rough but urgent, like he was staking a claim rather than asking permission. And when it happened again—and again—you didn’t push him away. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch despite every rational thought telling you to run.

But his obsession wasn’t content to simmer beneath the surface. It began to consume him, bleeding into the delicate balance of your day-to-day life.

He started showing up during your babysitting hours, a presence that was impossible to ignore. At first, he’d just watch from the doorway as you played with Su-an, his dark eyes following your every move with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

Then, his involvement escalated. He’d dismiss you early—always with some excuse about needing to talk to you. But the moment Su-an was out of earshot, his demeanor would shift. He’d pull you into his room, his hands firm but not rough as he guided you inside.

“You’re spending so much time with her,” he’d say, his voice low and rough, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t forget who’s paying you.”

His lips would crash against yours before you could respond, his kisses urgent and messy, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of you being anywhere else but with him.

The final straw came on a night like any other—or so you thought. Su-an had already gone to bed, and you were tidying up the living room when your gaze drifted toward the slightly ajar door of the man’s study. It was a room he rarely used in your presence, a space he kept locked most of the time.

You hadn’t intended to snoop. But the door was open, and your curiosity, already inflamed by the strange events surrounding him, got the better of you.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of leather and faintly bitter cologne. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the mahogany desk and the shelves lined with books and files. One particular folder caught your attention—it was open, papers spilling out as if hastily shoved aside.

Your heart sank as you picked up the first page. It was your class schedule, neatly printed and highlighted. Beneath it were receipts from your favorite coffee shop, notes about your usual order scribbled in the margins.

And then there were the photos.

They weren’t candid shots taken on the street or at the park. They were intimate, the kind of photos someone would take if they were watching closely—too closely. You recognized the outfits, the moments. One was of you laughing as you pushed Su-an on the swings. Another showed you sitting on a park bench, earbuds in, entirely unaware of the camera.

The air in the room felt too thick, like it was choking you. Your fingers trembled as you shoved the papers back into the folder, heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell is this?”

The words left your mouth before you even realized he was standing in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something intense.

The folder in your hands felt heavier than it should have, its contents seared into your memory. Photos of you, notes about your life, details no one should know unless they’d been watching you for far too long. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, standing so calmly in the doorway as if this was all perfectly normal.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing you in with the man you were starting to realize you knew far less about than you’d thought.

“I warned you,” he said, his voice low, almost soothing. “I told you not to go looking where you shouldn’t.”

“This—this is insane,” you stammered, backing up until the edge of the desk pressed against your hips. “Why do you have these? Why are you—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he interrupted, his tone softening as he drew closer. His gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in place. “I’ve been watching over you. Protecting you. You’re... important to me.”

“Protecting me?” you shot back, your voice breaking. “This is stalking. This is obsessive. This—this isn’t normal!”

He stopped just a breath away from you, his height and presence overwhelming. His eyes, dark and piercing, searched yours for something, though you couldn’t tell what. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me–and to my daughter? You’ve become... everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your body tensed, torn between the instinct to pull away and the undeniable pull of his closeness.

“Stop,” you whispered, though your voice lacked the strength it should have had. “This isn’t—this can’t—”

But he didn’t stop. His other hand moved to your waist, firm but not forceful, as he leaned closer.

“You keep saying it’s wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your lips. “But you don’t push me away.”

His lips brushed against yours, testing, as though giving you one last chance to stop him. But when you didn’t move, when your breath hitched and your hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you, he took it as permission.

The kiss was slow at first, deliberate and searching, as though he was memorizing every inch of your mouth. But it didn’t stay that way for long. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

You gasped against him, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt. The heat of him, the sheer intensity of his presence, was dizzying. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you couldn’t suppress the small sound that escaped you—a sound that seemed to ignite something in him.

His movements grew more desperate, more consuming. He pressed you back against the desk, his body caging you in as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down to the sensitive skin of your neck. The scrape of his stubble sent sparks of sensation racing down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your head tilted to give him better access.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, almost guttural. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing even as your body betrayed you, leaning into him. His hands gripped your waist, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt, and you shivered at the contact.

“This... this isn’t okay,” you managed, though the words came out weak, shaky.

“No,” he agreed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze was dark, filled with something you didn’t dare name. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it.”

The words hung between you, heavy and charged, as he leaned in again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that left no room for argument. And though your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, your body betrayed you, pulling him closer instead.

His hand slowly trailed to the hem of your sweatpants, lightly tugging on the strap, you flinched when his cold hand suddenly went under your boxers.

“We shouldn’t be doing this– Su-an might-” you were interrupted with his other hand covering your mouth.

“Hush now, this room is soundproof,” he merely stated before harshly pulling your pants and boxers down with one tug. He then picked you up and placed you on the desk, pushing aside all the files and paper, which now seemed so insignificant.

“You’re hard. Are you still telling me you don’t want this?” He questions, his warm breath fanning your ear. You shuddered at the feeling, not knowing what to say, or what to do.

Before you could form words, he wraps his hand around your aching cock which was standing erect, partly due to the cool air, and partly due to what was happening.

His movements were minimal, slowly moving his hand along your shaft, while his other hand fetched a packet of lube from his back pocket. Where he managed to get that, you couldn’t tell.

He ripped the packet with his teeth, and spread the substance all over his fingers, before swiftly flipping you over, so that your ass was facing him.

Before you could utter a word of process, he had slipped a lubed finger in you. A wanton moan left your mouth at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck–don’t stop, please,” the man only smirked at this, slowly sliding in another finger, and then another. Three of his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, and oh, it felt heavenly. His other hand held you up just a bit, to keep you from falling off the study desk.

Your hands gripped onto the desk, frantically trying to keep yourself upright, but to no avail. You kept slumping off, the pleasure being too overwhelming.

“Stay still for me pet, that’s it–good boy,” the praise went straight to your dick, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Soon, the man determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his fingers. You whined at the sudden emptiness, wanting to feel full once more.

He stared at your twitching hole, clenching around nothing. The sight did nothing but turn him on even more.

He removed his belt and cast it aside, while tugging down his pants and boxers with a sense of urgency. He easily flipped you over with his strong arms, now getting a clear view of your already fucked-out face.

He merely grinned, and before you could respond, he slid into your awaiting hole. You gasped at the intrusion, the head of his cock bullying its way into your hole. He groaned feeling the way you clenched around his length.

Without waiting for you to adjust, he fucked into you like an animal in heat, holding your legs in such a way that your knees where at your shoulders.

The new angle made his length hit your prostate with every thrust, making your head fall back on the table, a loud moan leaving your lips.

The man was savouring every single reaction, every little noise you made. “Such a sweet little thing,” he cooed. “Can’t even keep a straight head while getting fucked, hm?”

The only thing that left your mouth was a string of garbled noises. Your brain had quite literally turned to mush with how well he was fucking you.

Soon, you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall, but the man didn’t stop. Instead, he fucked into you harder, a bulge forming in your stomach with every thrust.

He lightly pressed on the bulge, which made you squeal– the overstimulation doing too much to your head.

He kept rutting into you until he felt his climax. When it came, his thrusts slowly started to stutter. Without warning he emptied his load in you, painting your gummy walls white.

He kept you on the desk, without pulling out as you whimpered, feeling so, so full.

With your mind in such a disarrayed state, you didn’t notice him slip a small ring onto your finger.

“Now you can’t leave me–or Su-an, ever. Poor thing needs a mother after all.”

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ittybittyfanblog · 3 months ago

Text

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol. Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break.

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?”

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around.

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia?

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping!

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart.

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address?

Ah, just like clockwork.

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up.

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?”

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life.

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well.

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin.

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.

What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.”

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!”

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.”

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face.

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.”

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?”

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever.

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?”

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”

Helplessly, you open your inventory next.

Your jaw drops.

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.”

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada.

Holy shit.

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?”

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.”

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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ohcaptains · 1 year ago

Text

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

pairing. simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader.

synopsis. simon comes home. he's too tired to fuck you right. eventually, he manages to find the energy.

warnings. 18+ this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy or use ai on my shit, i’ll find out. female receiving penetration, blonde simon lol, somnophilia, dry humping, pussy smacking, and crying during sex. i am not responsible for your media consumption.

an. :) life sucked so i found a new animated character to obsess over. please comment & reblog if u enjoyed !

When Simon comes back, he’s dog-tired.

As soon as his feet touch the welcome mat of your quaint little apartment, he feels all of his muscles relax – as if they’re unpinning themselves from his bones – and he has to give himself a pep talk to muster the energy to drag his hand up to ring the bell.

But he doesn’t have to, because you’re ripping the door open – shining like the sun – and pulling him into your body, rendering all 6,4 ft and 240 pounds of the super soldier to complete mush.

For five minutes, you don’t speak. Just hold him, as you gently rub the corner of his jaw, and brush your fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He clutches you to him.

His fat, paw-like hands hold your upper back, and you hold him with the same vigour. His body – wrapped in his black compression shirt and army pants – is rock solid.

It’s a weaving of muscles that have been tensed for the last two months. It’s going to take a minute for them all to soften, but like he always does when he’s been away, Simon lets out a deep and resolute sigh.

The breath warms your neck, causing it to tingle, and you grasp him tighter, your body waking up.

It’s been a long two months.

He manages to push your intertwined bodies through the doorway, using his boot to kick the door shut. His house smells like home -- funny how you can’t smell it until you’ve been gone a while.

Vanilla and a citrus fruit, mixed with the savoury scent of his favourite meal. He hums again, and you scratch the back of his head, sending shivers down his locked spine.

He knows the route to your bedroom like the back of his hand, and he maneuvers the pair of you inside.

The curtains are closed and the bed is made. You know him. You know him so well.

You let him push you back onto the bed – a blur of familiar limbs and hair – and he settles lower, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Immediately, you drag your legs up and cross them over the curve of his ass.

You’re all warm and soft and pliable. Dressed in a pair of simple cotton shorts and a vest top, he wants to grab fistfuls of you and remind himself of how you feel in his palms. Wants to drag his lips over your skin, bully his way between your legs and remind himself of how you taste.

Fuck, he wants you, in a carnal, almost primal sort of way, and you the same. He can smell it. A sweet but sweaty longing that melts from you and causes his senses to wake.

But he’s so God damn tired.

You know. Know this routine. Know that he has to settle back in.

In the meantime, you’ll just have to wait.

You fiddle with his hair. “There’s dinner if you want it,” you whisper into the dark bedroom, looping the strands between your fingers, committing the soft feel to memory.

Simon shuffles just an inch on top of you, but still, the slight movement of his clothes and hard, clenched body against yours makes you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

It’ll be chewed raw by the time he has enough energy to take you. He grunts something into your skin, and after a second, you gather it’s, tired.

His scent clouds you.

When Simon comes back, he always smells the same.

The soap at the barracks is pine scented – shampoo a strict lemon.

But there’s always a leftover grit to him. A hidden layer the soap can’t clean off, and it makes you delirious. Makes you flex your ass up – just an inch, a sweet, gentle inch that has you feeling the hard lines of his thighs and the metal of his zipper, and Simon’s breathing hitches.

You freeze. With your hips pushed tight against his, you stare at the ceiling, hoping that your worn-out soldier hasn’t felt you move.

Simon stays quiet. His breathing settles. You go to apologise, but Simon doesn’t grumble or make a sly comment. Listening closer to his breathing, you gather that he’s asleep.

Jesus, you think, that’s a record. Barely in the door and he’s asleep, he must be burnt out. Figuring that you won’t be able to crawl from under his weight, you decide it’s your bedtime too.

Sleep comes fast.

Hours later, you blearily blink awake. Not much has changed – the room is still dark, Simon is still heavy on top of you, yet now, you’re sticking to him with sweat.

He’s usually a human furnace, but this is different.

Your skin prickles, vibrating at a frequency that has nothing to do with heat. No, this is…you feel a pulsating between your thighs, and wiggle, feeling your slick coating your underwear.

Fuck, why are you so wet? You clench, and the resulting ache forces you to hiss and push your head back against the pillows. What did you dream about? Thinking back, you come up short. Then why--

Simon shuffles on top of you. It’s a slight movement, but it continues, and all at once, your heart clenches.

Holy fuck, he’s—

“Simon?” you whisper, and your boyfriend whines into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, the words wet and desperate. The puzzle pieces lock into place.

He knocks his hips into your crotch once more, and you gasp, clenching, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Simon’s apology comes out again, except this time, it’s christened with a “s-shit – fuck.”

Blinking at the ceiling, you huff and try and glance down, and in the dark, you just about manage to see the outline of his burly body grinding into yours.

You take stock of the situation.

Feel his fat palm around your hip, and squinting, see that he’s got your shorts pulled down around your thighs, and has the band of your underwear looped around his fingers.

Jesus Christ. You fall back into the pillows. “How long have you?” you whisper. “Five – fuck – minutes,” Simon grunts, continuing to roll his thick hips against you. His bulge knocks the edge of your throbbing clit, causing you to gasp again. There’s been no build-up to your want, it’s just there, humming electric, and spread tight over your thighs.

Simon meshes his wet mouth against your chest. He’s tugged your vest top down, too, and his lips close around the skin of your breast. Jesus. He was undressing you as you slept.

“Thought about fuckin’ you, but couldn’t get my pants down, so – shit -- tired. Jus’ woke up and you were just so fuckin’ soft. And wet, Christ, felt you through my trousers.”

Your whole body goes numb. “You were gonna fuck me as I slept?” you whisper, belly flipping. You’d told him – ages ago – that he could, but he hasn’t been here. You’d forgotten.

The image of him pulling your underwear down as you slept streaks across your mind. Imagine waking up with him inside of you, so full and wet and just on the precipice of coming.

Simon grunts. He tugs at the band of your underwear, “I’ll fuck you right, at some point. Just –”

In your delirious state, you manage to finish his sentence, “Tired, I know – I know baby.”

You kiss the crown of his head and whimper into his hair. “Just use me until you’re ready.”

Simon groans out deep and loud. It rumbles against your chest. Echoes through your heart, and you’re so turned on that you begin fidgeting.

You try and squirm away from the stifling ache of your pussy, but Simon’s built like a brick shithouse, so you can’t run from it, just gotta take it and take it and take it, until you can’t anymore, and you break.

You’re so fucked that you don’t even announce that you’re coming, but Simon knows, shit, and as your pussy clenches up tight, he growls low and hard, mumbling, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, until his movements go sloppy, and his breathing goes laboured, and he’s coming into his pants and mewling your name.

When he finally does manage to get inside of you, he doesn’t last long. No, he pushes all the way to the hilt, and you tighten up.

“Stay” you gasp, clenching your pussy around his shaft, and Simon grunts deep and long into your throat.

“S-Stay there,” you moan, then, in case he didn’t hear you, “Stay,” you whisper, and push the ball of your palm into his thick, scarred shoulder.

You were teetering on a knives edge.

You’ve come once since Simon was home, and your second orgasm of his return was right there.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Simon groans into the shallow of your throat, “Did we do enough prep?”

“Yes,” you immediately whisper, not wanting him to pull out.

He’s thick and pulsing inside of you, hard and heavy on top, and God, he kisses at your throat — soft and gentle. You try to swallow down the ball that has swelled in your throat, but tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill.

No no no no, you think. Not now. Not now not now. You try to stifle the tears, but you unconsciously sniff, and despite Simon being perfectly still, he still manages to freeze.

“Sweetheart?”

You inhale, “Yeah?”

Simon looks up; and seeing tears on your cheeks, his face falls, “Did I hurt you?”

You furiously wipe the tears away, shaking your head.

“M’just overwhelmed,” you whisper, and he presses his forehead against yours, going to kiss you, but the movement causes his hips to flex against you, nudging his cock, and you whine, immediately gripping onto the back of his dirty blonde locks.

Simon drops his face into your chest and lets out a pained rasp, “Tightening around me, kid.”

You unclench, “m’sorry.”

“Gonna come quick.”

“S’okay.”

“I’ll fuck you right, just gotta…” he trails off and grabs fist fulls of your hips.

“Fuck,” he huffs wistfully, “This pussy. Missed this fucking pussy.”

You go dizzy with need. Shake your head, and bend to kiss him, tasting his wet and swollen lips. Gently, you knock your hips up into his, and when he lets out a surprised grumble, you flex your hips higher, trying to stuff his cock deeper, further – till you can see it pressing into your belly.

Catching onto your plan, Simon grunts and pushes your hips with his fat palms, pinning your ass to the mattress.

“Stop,” he orders, and the demand goes straight to your cunt. Jesus. He hasn’t been very dominant since his return, and that little instruction has you chomping on the bit.

“Want you, Si.”

“One stroke and I’ll be fucked.”

“Just gotta practice.”

He chokes on a laugh, muttering, “Practice.”

You try another tactic. Clench around his cock and pout, “Want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Simon cuts. You curl your legs back his back and push your foot into the dense muscle of his ass, at the same time rocking your hips up. Simon lets you. Let’s you try and fuck yourself on his cock. With wet lips, you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering his name.

“Gonna fill me up, Si?”

“Fuckin’ filthy, you know that?”

Simon pulls back, and your heart stutters.

You think he’s going to pull out, until he uses your hips to pull you tight against his cock -- your ass nearly sitting on his thighs. His thick, scarred chest is puffed up.

Cheeks red, and he’s got that animal glint in his pretty eyes.

It knocks you for six.

“Where you want it?” he asks, and you’re confused, until he presses the heel of his palm into the middle of your tummy.

“Shoot my load here, huh?”

Your body goes numb. Eyes white out. It happens so suddenly that it scares you, and you’re a mixture of turned on and frightened, but the fear turns you on even more.

All you can do is blearily look up at him as he slides his paw to the other side of your tummy, “or shoot it here. Fuck it so deep that you can taste it.”

He pretends to think about it. Even hums, before he drags his palm up and stuffs his thumb into your mouth. “Or just directly here, huh?” He snarls a smile, “know you like it when your mouth is full.”

You suck at his thumb, and tighten your cunt around his cock, causing his mouth to open, and eyes to flutter, and just like that, you’ve won.

He comes in record time.

But Simon keeps his promises.

A couple of days later – on the seventh day he’s back -- he fucks you so good, that when you wake up the next morning, you get shy just thinking about it.

Lay in bed, staring at the ceiling – your boyfriend fast asleep on your chest -- remembering the debauchery you’d gotten up to the night before.

The pair of you are a little tipsy, drunk on beer and wine, but all it’s done is heighten your senses, and made you fully aware of your desires, so much so, that they pulsate behind your eyelids like a migraine.

Simons got you face down, ass up, and as he pushes you face first into the mattress, he presses his thumb against the tight, fluttering hole of your pussy.

“Gonna let me inside, baby?”

You sink into your thighs and spread yourself wider for him, humming into your crossed arms. Simon watches your pussy spread further, and he can’t help himself, he has to slide his thumb deeper.

He presses, just barely pushing the tip of his thumb into your wet hole, and you gasp, trying to chase the feeling by inching back against his fat palm. He laughs at you. “Look at your pussy sucking my thumb in, baby. Wish you could see what I’m seeing. So fuckin’ sexy.”

You hum, the words making you wetter – dripping over his thumb.

“Been dreaming of fucking you right, gonna take you whenever I want.”

“Okay,” you whisper, so delirious that you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. Simon raises a brow,

“Yeah?” he asks, tone breathless. Thought he’d get some pushback on that one, but for a second, he forgot that you said the nastiest shit with his dick inside of you.

You nod into your crossed arms, and Simon laughs again, “Free use pussy,” he sounds, then lightly smacks your sodden folds, causing you to flinch, bucking forward.

“Oh fuck,” you choke, eyes rolling back. Heat ricochets through your crotch and swamps your belly, before settling back in your aching pussy. Once you manage to collect yourself – and it takes a second -- you huff. “Bein’ mean.”

Simon snorts, grabs your hips, then rams the underside of his cock against your pussy, grinning so big that his scars stretch, “don’t know the half of it, babe.”

You sob, real tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Your desire is visceral, enough for you to taste it on your tongue. Simon pulls back, and your slick coats the length of his dick, earning yourself another light smack to your cunt.

“Soakin’ me,” he grunts, and you sob into the sheets. “Please,” you whisper, then, please please please, and Simon hears your breathing hitch.

This time, instead of checking up on you, he chuckles, “Crying again, baby?”

You sniff and wipe your eyes on your wrist, face heating.

“No,” you mumble, and Simon sighs.

He reads you like a book. Always has. Always will.

“Lying to me,” he grumbles, then he steers the uncut head of his cock between your folds, whispering, “Lie to me again, and I’ll give you something to cry about,” before bottoming out in one thrust.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x female reader #simon 'ghost' riley smut #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #call of duty

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plethorawrites · 28 days ago

Note

So we’ve seen all of the batbros as cats but what about the reader? What would happen if they were turned into a cat?

This took forever, sorry! But yes, I totally can!

Bruce: Weary and worried.

• Before all else, he's concerned with making sure you're alright. He calls Zatanna immediately to ensure it's not permanent and then after he knows it's not, he can relax enough to try to comfort you.

• He was never a cat person, only ever owning dogs, so he really has no clue how to take care of a cat. Let alone a cat who's really the love of his life. He tries, though. He gets Alfred to make you dinner, something that's fresh and not gross Tuna or Salmon from a can. He gives you your choice of every throw pillow in the manor to tear up when he sees you get antsy, your claws flicking in and out in stress. And of course, everything poisonous to cats like the peace lilies in the living room are moved far away.

• Bruce still has to go to work, unfortunately and with no idea how to keep you entertained, puts on those "Soothing cat videos" on the big TV in his bedroom for you to watch. A six hour loop of a fishtank is less than ideal but seems to work well enough.

• You're in the same place as when he left you, so he assumes you didn't mind too much. He notices you grooming yourself, not because you want to, but out of some strange instinct you've developed and he can tell you're grossed out by your own actions, so he does his best to clean your fur himself. You might be a cat, but you seem to like water so he puts you in the bathtub and scrubs your fur with your normal soap which makes you pur.

• Until he takes you out of the warm water and you're absolutely freezing, shivering from the cold. He wraps you in a towel and holds you to his chest until you're mostly dry, then, despite the dampness of your fur, let's you curl up under the covers since you're still a bit chilly. It makes his own skin wet, but he doesn't mind since at least you seem a bit happier.

---

Dick: Amused and empathetic.

• He tries not to laugh. He really does. It's just...so much harder than it should be. You look so small, so adorable, so fuzzy. You have a tail, for God's sake. How could it not be hilarious? He only stops chuckling when you swat your paw at him, catching him with sharp claws, cutting him. He doesn't get upset since he knows he deserved it.

• Goes to the pet store with you, letting you sit in the cart and pick out your own things, which, he can tell you dislike but reluctantly comply—otherwise he'd buy you a rat themed toy instead of the feather one you wanted. You gurgle and growl repeatedly when he picks up those stupid cat costumes, but he still buys them anyway.

• And yes, he does force you to wear them. You resisted, at first, of course, but eventually gave up when he gave you those puppy dog eyes. If you thought being a cat was humiliating, you couldn't have prepared for being a cat wearing a sombrero and poncho. "Those are our Christmas cards this year," he tells you, kissing the top of your head while you meow in protest.

• Despite that, he's still sweet to you, apologizing for you having to go through this and swearing he'll fix it. In the meantime, just try to stay positive. He'll say you can rip up the drapes if it makes you feel better. You do and it does. You always hated them and he refused to get rid of them, but now there was a valid reason to.

• He sits on the floor with you, swinging the feather toy around as you chase it, gaining a good amount of height the longer you play. His arm gets tired but you're clearly not, so he sits there until you eventually get sick of it and he sets it down while you crawl into his lap for a nap. He was going to make something to eat, but he supposes he can wait.

---

Jason: Paranoid and terrified.

• His initial response is to reassure you that you'll be fine. He'll do whatever it takes you turn you back into a human, no matter what. His second response, is to freak out. He has no idea how to take care of a cat, let alone his partner who's a cat! What if he hurts you? What if he can't fix it?

• Being a cat, you, unbeknownst to him, sense him apprehension and almost immediately start rubbing against his legs until he hesitantly picks you up, cradling you in his arms as gently as possible. You rub your head against his jaw, trying to soothe him and he takes a few deep breaths, relaxing and nuzzling your fur.

• It takes him a while, and a lot of trial and error to figure out how to take care of you, be it buying food you don't like, to accidentally leaving the window open and panicking that you escaped (you were under the bed, because it was warm and safe) but he eventually calms down once the day is finally over.

• Cuddling with you on the couch, he can barely even feel your claws kneeding on his arms because there's so much scar tissue it's too hard to scratch and hurt. Your purring is what calms him down the most though, after an extremely long, stressful day. You sitting on his lap, his hand resting on your back as he slowly and accidentally falls asleep.

• When he wakes up, you're still a cat, still sleeping on him. He picks you up carefully, taking you to the bedroom so he can sleep in his bed and you aren't left alone in the living room. He has a feeling you'll be yourself soon enough, even if he doesn't know exactly when. He'll keep you safe until then.

---

Tim: Shocked and Frantic

• He immediately starts to panic. You're a cat. A freaking cat. How? Why? What does he need to do to fix it? He has a million questions and no answers. But his stress only adds to your own and he quickly tries to calm down before soothing you: "No, no, no. It's fine. You're gonna be fine. I swear."

• Still, the second he gets you out of the room, convincing you that you'd be more comfortable in the living room than in the batcave, he starts to pace and freak out again. It's actually Damian, of all people, who gets him to snap out of it, literally slapping him across the face and telling him to be there for you instead of worrying about the details.

• He listens, to an extent, going back upstairs to where you were chewing on the fern in the living room, ripping a leaf apart. Pulling you away from it as you meow in protest, he cradles you in his arms, apologizing for fretting and promising he won't leave again.

• And he doesn't. He does, however, keep working on a way to fix you. He tries to be annoyed when you start knocking things off his desk, pushing stuff into a water bowl, jumping into his bottom drawer, laying on his papers, but he can't do it. You're just acting too cute to genuinely be mad. Eventually, he takes a break, closing the drawer you were sitting in and hauling you to his bed.

• He'll admit, he threw you with a little less caution than he probably should have, but you didn't mind, crawling onto him the moment he laid down, eager to close your eyes after being awake for far too long. Aka 5 straight hours, which, for a cat, was a lot. He didn't quite realize that, but notices almost immediately how fast you fall asleep once you lay down, curling into a ball, tucking your nose under your tail to keep it warm.

---

Damian: Is both fascinated and prepared.

• He has over a dozen pets, so when you're turned into a cat, he already knows everything there is to know and gets you anything you could possibly need. A nice cat bed, toys to keep you entertained, a post to scratch so you don't ruin any furniture.

• His others pets want to play or chase you, but he scoops you up before any of them can get even close to you. And he insists you stay close to him and not wander off, because you could get lost, kidnapped, or hurt.

• You always knew his knowledge of animals was extensive but didn't realize how much so until he was petting you, explaining how the hair follicles on cats work, which is why they never like to be pet in certain areas.

• Despite having an extremely nice bed, you'd really rather prefer his and he allows it, reminding you not to scratch the pillows or the sheets. "They're Egyptian silk. Don't ruin them." Still, when he catches you clawing at them in your sleep, unaware you were doing it, he doesn't stop you.

• In the morning, he switches feeds you breakfast, in a human bowl so it's not so degrading and takes you with him while he works on a way to fix you. He quickly gets distracted, though, by how you're looking around at everything like it's the most interesting thing ever.

746 notes · View notes

aceyalonso · 4 months ago

Text

can you stay the night? - CHARLES LECLERC

pairing : charles leclerc x bestfriend!reader

summary : you and charles had always been comfortable with each other, comfortable enough to cuddle, go out on "platonic" dates, and maybe comfortable enough to leave a toothbrush at his place

warnings/notes : swearing, y/n is kinda dense, charles is a simp, sexual innuendos, romantic stuff that they think as platonic, suggestive-ish (??) scene (no actual smut)

word count : 14.2k

song : la vie en rose - édith piaf

a/n : happy 600!!! no angst this time around :p (this fic is a bit long because ik @nepobbylver is gonna love this HAHAHAH)

masterlist

May 26, 2024 - 5:12 PM

Y/n settled against Charles, his soft blond dachshund snuggled comfortably between them as they cuddled on the couch. She ran her fingers through the dog's fur, enjoying the simple moment of comfort in his presence. Charles wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer as they continued to relax in the quiet peace.

As they continued to snuggle together, a thought occurred to Y/n. She shifted slightly, looking up at Charles with a curious expression. "You know," she began, "I have to ask. Is this really how you want to celebrate your home race win?"

Y/n paused for a moment, her fingers still idly stroking the dachshund's soft fur. "I mean, don't get me wrong, this is nice, but I was just thinking...don't you want to go out to dinner or something? You've won your home race, after all."

Charles chuckled softly, drawing her closer. "Honestly, I just wanted to spend time with you," he replied, his voice low and warm. "But if you want to go out, we can do that too."

A small smile curled Y/n's lips. "And leave this little guy all alone?" she teased, looking down at the dachshund. The dog lifted its head, as if sensing they were talking about him, and wagged its tail lazily.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, reaching over to give Leo's head an affectionate pat. "Sorry, buddy," she said, her tone playful. "Looks like it's nap time for you. Go back to sleep."

The dachshund yawned widely, as if in response to her words, before settling back against her and closing his eyes, content to ignore them again.

Charles chuckled, watching the interaction between Y/n and Leo. "Looks like he's already got it figured out," he said, his arm still around her. "A relaxing night in might actually be the perfect way to celebrate after all."

Y/n's smile faded slightly as she looked back up at Charles. "I know, but it just feels like… you should be celebrating more, you know?" she said, her voice softly. "You just won your home race. Shouldn't you be doing something bigger than this?"

Charles sighed, a mix of resignation and affection in his voice. "Alright, alright," he said, giving in to her insistence. "If you want me to celebrate that bad, we'll go out tomorrow. We can even bring Leo along."

Y/n's face lit up with satisfied surprise. She hadn't expected him to give in so easily, but she couldn't help feeling relieved. "Really? You don't mind going out tomorrow?" she asked, almost too eagerly.

He chuckled again, amused by her eagerness. "Yeah, really," he reassured her, his arm still around her. "We can have a nicer celebration tomorrow, with dinner and whatever else you want."

She held up her hand in a prayer gesture, looking upwards as if addressing some higher power. "Thank you, oh benevolent lord," she said dramatically. "For providing me with free food tomorrow, I am eternally grateful!"

Charles rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You're ridiculous," he said, a hint of affection in his voice. "You're getting one meal, and you act like it's a gift from the heavens."

Y/n nodded in agreement, her exaggerated gratitude fading a bit. "I mean, you're not wrong," she said, a tinge of resignation in her voice. "Monaco is not exactly wallet-friendly, especially when it comes to food. I'll take what I can get, honestly."

Charles chuckled, his hand absentmindedly stroking along the dachshund's back. "Well, don't worry," he assured her. "I'll make sure you get a proper meal tomorrow. No more scavenging for leftovers for you."

Y/n's smile waned as she gave him a playful glare. "Now you make me sound like some orphan kid begging for scraps during the Victorian era," she retorted, a hint of mock indignation in her voice.

Charles laughed heartily at her comparison. "Oh, come on," he said, his tone both amused and affectionate. "I didn't mean it like that at all. You know I'd do anything to make sure you were never hungry, Victorian era or modern day."

Y/n's mock frown softened into a genuine smile, her heart fluttering at his sweet words. "I know," she admitted, leaning against him. "But I couldn't resist the chance to give you a hard time about it."

Charles chuckled, his grip around her tightening slightly. "Of course you did," he teased. "You never miss an opportunity to give me a hard time, do you?"

Y/n burst into a dorky laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hahah, hard," she echoed, the innuendo in her tone not lost on either of them.

Charles grinned, lifting his hand to gently cover her mouth. "Maybe you should just go to sleep," he teased, pretending to sound serious. "Save the innuendos for later."

Her eyes widened, a laugh muffled against his hand. She playfully wriggled against his grip, feigning protest but not really wanting him to let go.

He chuckled, enjoyed the way she struggled against him, the playful back-and-forth between them. "Careful," he warned, his tone filled with mock severity. "Keep that up, and I might have to keep you quiet another way."

Y/n's eyes widened with mock horror, her expression over the top dramatic as she stared up at him. "Oh, lord," she gasped, in a faux-dramatic voice, "You're not going to gag me, are you?"

Charles' smile widened at her reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Keep up the smart mouth, and you just might find that out," he threatened, his voice low and teasing.

She scrunched up her nose in exaggerated disgust. "Ew, Charlie, ew" she says, her tone overly dramatic. She tried to look irritated, but the playful gleam in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

Charles laughed at her reaction, shaking his head at her dramatic display. "Oh, come on," he teased, clearly enjoying the banter. "Don't act like you wouldn't secretly love it."

Y/n shot him a mock glare, refusing to admit that he might be right. "Oh, please," she said, her tone defiant. "As if I'd enjoyed being gagged. I'm too much of a free spirit for that."

He chuckled again, his hand still placed over her mouth "Oh, you're a free spirit, alright," he agreed, enjoying the banter. "A free spirit that could probably use a little lesson in restraint."

Y/n laughed, gently maneuvering Leo off her before standing up. "Get off me, you muppet!" she playfully mimicked, her voice filled with exaggerated indignation. She stepped away from the couch, a small grin still on her face.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle at her playful exit. "Yeah, yeah," he replied, his tone amused. "Go ahead and leave, but keep in mind, I now know one surefire way to shut that smart mouth of yours."

Y/n paused for a moment, her eyebrows raising slightly. She tried to maintain her mock annoyance, but the gleam in her eyes revealed her intrigue. "Okay, and just how do you plan to do that, smart guy?"

Charles leaned back against the couch, a smug smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You really want to know?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive.

She shook her head, feigning nonchalance. "Nevermind," she said, her tone dismissive. "I need to use the bathroom anyway."

He gave her a knowing smirk as she made her escape. "Sure, go ahead," he replied, not letting her get away without a snarky comment. "But don't think I won't remember this later."

She rolled her eyes as she walked away, pretending to ignore his snarky comment. "Oh, I'm sure you will," she called back over her shoulder, disappearing down the hall towards the bathroom.

Y/n had just finished washing her hands when she suddenly opened the bathroom door. "Hey, Charlie?" she called out, her tone casual.

Charles, who was still lounging on the couch with Leo, lifted his head in response to her call. "Yeah?" he replied, curious to know what she wanted.

Y/n stepped out of the bathroom, her hands still slightly damp from washing. "Hey, so," she began, a small smile on her face. "Are we gonna order food, or do you think maybe I should make something?"

He sat up a bit on the couch, mulling over the options. "Let's order in," he decided, a lazy grin on his face. "No need to cook when we can get food delivered, right?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "So, you're paying, right?" she asked, her tone half sarcastic, and half-serious.

Charles chuckled at her question, knowing she expected him to pay (as per usual). "Yeah, yeah," he agreed, not really bothered by it. "I'll pay for it, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

Y/n settled back on the couch again, cradling the sleeping dachshund in her arms. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft as she cuddled with the dog. She leaned back against Charles, her hand automatically finding its way to Leo's warm, furry body.

He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her closer. He watched her fondly, enjoying the peaceful moment. "You know, most people would take advantage of my kindness and order the most expensive thing on the menu," he teased lightly.

She chuckled, running her fingers through Leo's soft fur. "Oh, I won't go too crazy," she promised, her voice filled with pretend innocence. "Just a small order of caviar and a glass of champagne, nothing too extravagant."

Charles laughed heartily at her answer. "Right, not too extravagant," he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "A small side order of caviar, she says. You're lucky I'm feeling generous tonight."

Y/n smiled at his sarcastic response, enjoying their banter. "Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?" she replied, her tone lighthearted. "A little bit of luxury every now and then never hurt anyone."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head in mock resignation. "Oh, believe me, I'm all for spoiling you," he assured her, his arm tightening around her. "Just try not to bankrupt me in the process, alright?"

She laughed, snuggling against him, her fingers still idly scratching Leo's head. "I don't think I could bankrupt you if I tried," she teased. "You're a rich F! driver in Monaco, after all. I doubt a little caviar is going to break your bank."

Charles chuckled, his hand lazily running along her arm. "Hey, don't underestimate your powers of persuasion," he warned, his tone playful. "You could convince me to buy you the moon if you tried, I'm sure."

Y/n laughed heartily, shaking her head. "Oh, the caviar was just a joke," she clarified, her tone lighthearted. "I mean, who in their right mind actually enjoys that salty, fishy stuff? It's like eating fancy seawater, if you ask me."

Charles chuckled, enjoying her commentary. "Yeah, that's a fair assessment," he agreed, nodding his head. "I'm pretty sure the only reason people eat it is because it's expensive and somehow considered posh."

She nodded in agreement, a smirk on her face. "Exactly," she said, her tone amused. "it's like a status symbol for the rich and fancy. The more you spend on it, the fancier you are."

Y/n shook her head, her smirk turning into a thoughtful expression. "Alright, enough talk about weird expensive food," she said. "What do you want to order? Pizza, Chinese, something else?"

Charles thought for a moment, considering the options. "Hmm, I'm up for anything," he replied, his hand idly tracing patterns on her arm. "What are you craving, mon ange?

She thought for a moment, her gaze wandering towards the kitchen. "I kind of feel like pizza," she admitted, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "But then again, I could go for some old-fashioned comfort food like mac and cheese."

He nodded in agreement, his hand still trailing up and down her arm. "Pizza sounds good," Charles said, his voice casual. "And honestly, mac and cheese isn't a bad idea either. We could get both if you want."

Y/n looked up at him, a hopeful expression on her face. "Really?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. "You'd let me get both pizza and mac and cheese?"

Charles chuckled at her eager expression, unable to resist her excitement. "Sure, why not?" he replied, his tone indulgent. "We can have a bit of everything. No need to limit ourselves, right? Especially when I'm paying for it."

Y/n's eyes lit up, her smile widening at his agreement. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "I promise I won't get too carried away. We can get pizza and mac and cheese, and maybe a side of mozzarella sticks for good measure."

Charles laughed heartily at her enthusiasm, loving the way she got excited over food. "Mozzarella sticks?" he repeated, his tone amused. "Now you're pushing it. But, since you asked so nicely, I suppose we can get some mozzarella sticks as well."

Y/n grinned, her excitement growing with each added food item. "You're the best!" she declared, snuggling closer to him. "I swear, you give in too easily. All I have to do is bat my eyelashes and say 'please' and you're wrapped around my finger."

He chuckled, his arm encircling her waist. "I can't help it," he admitted, his tone fond. "You're too damn cute when you get excited about food. How could I resist giving you what you want?"

She smiled slyly, a hint of gloating in her expression. "See? I knew it," she teased, poking him in the side. "You're a softie, deep down. All I have to do is ask nicely and you'll cave."

Charles snorted, feigning offense. "Softie?" he retorted, his tone lighthearted. "I prefer the term 'indulgent' when it comes to you. I just like making you happy, that's all."

Y/n's smirk widened, her hand coming up to poke his chest playfully. "Indulgent, softie, whatever you want to call it," she teased, her voice filled with affection, "the point is, you can't say no to me. And you know what? I love it."

Charles laughed, shaking his head at her teasing. "Yeah, yeah, you win," he conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I admit it, I can't say no to you. Especially when you look at me all cute and expectantly, begging for pizza and mac and cheese."

Y/n nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. "And mozzarella sticks," she added, her tone firm. "Don't forget the mozzarella sticks. I can't have pizza and mac and cheese without some fried cheesy goodness on the side, can I?"

She thought for a moment before turning to Charles. "And can we get some soda?" she asked, her voice hopeful. "You know, to wash down all this unhealthy food we're about to consume."

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Of course, we can get some soda too," he agreed, chuckling at her request. "We need something other than water to balance out all this greasy, delicious goodness."

Y/n smiled victoriously, clearly satisfied with his willingness to indulge her. "Yay, soda!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with childish excitement. "You know, I could get used to this whole 'getting whatever I want when I ask nicely' thing."

Charles chuckled, his hand giving her a playful tap on the head. "Oh, don't get used to it," he warned, his tone jokingly stern. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret spoiling you so much."

She laughed, leaning into his touch. "Oh, come on," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know you love spoiling me. Admit it, you secretly enjoy it when I bat my eyelashes and ask for things."

Charles didn't bother denying her accusations; he knew she was right. He simply chuckled, choosing to indulge her playful banter instead. "You know me so well, don't you?" he said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement.

Y/n grinned, her smile widening as he acknowledged her observation. "I have a sixth sense for these things," she teased, her tone filled with mock self-importance. "I know when you're secretly enjoying spoiling me, even if you won't admit it."

May 26, 2024 - 8:12 PM

Charles groaned, his hand resting on his stomach. "Oh, I'm so full," he lamented, his voice tinged with mock despair. "I shouldn't have had that fourth slice of pizza, but it was just so good."

Y/n sat next to him, her own hand on her stomach as well. "I know what you mean," she agreed, her voice slightly strained. "I swear I can feel my stomach expanding. But you know what? It was worth every single bite."

She laughed heartily, her stomach feeling more and more stuffed. "You're right," she agreed, her voice tinged with reluctance. "We should probably clean up before all this grease and sauce dries up."

Charles groaned again, his hand still resting on his stomach. "Ugh, I don't wanna move," he protested, his voice filled with exaggerated laziness. "Can't we just take a little food coma nap first?"

She chuckled at his melodramatic reaction, shaking her head. "As much as I'd love to join you in your food coma, we should probably clean up first," she reasoned, her tone slightly authoritative. "Otherwise, we'll regret it later when everything's dried up and stuck to the plates."

Y/n had just stood up, plates in hand, when Charles gently pulled her back down next to him. She looked at him with a mix of surprise and confusion, her hand hovering in the air where the plate had been a moment ago.

Charles placed the plates back onto the table and pulled Y/n closer to him, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, his body relaxed against hers, seeking comfort in her proximity.

Y/n didn't resist his pull, instead leaning into his touch. She reached up, her hand gently caressing his hair, her fingers running through the messy strands. "You know, you're just using me as a pillow now," she teased, her voice soft and affectionate.

He chuckled, his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of her fingers in his hair. "Can you blame me?" he asked, his tone lighthearted. "You're so comfortable, and I can't be bothered to move right now."

Y/n sighed contently, her fingers continuing to play with his hair. "You're just being lazy," she retorted, her tone fond. "But I guess I can be your cozy pillow for a little while longer."

Charles smiled, his body relaxing even more as her fingers continued their soothing caress. "Good," he mumbled, nuzzling his head further into her shoulder. "I could stay like this forever."

She chuckled as Leo padded over to them, his furry little body weaving between their legs. "Hey, little guy," she greeted the dachshund, reaching down to pet him. "Did you enjoy your food too?"

Leo, his belly full and content, simply looked up at Y/n with his innocent little eyes. He wagged his tail happily, clearly content after his own feast.

Charles laughed, his head still resting on Y/n's shoulder. "Looks like Leo was just as successful at stuffing his face as we were," he commented. "He's got that satisfied, slightly bloated look for sure."

Y/n laughed, her hand still running through Charles' hair. "You can say that again," she agreed, her tone light. "I don't think I've ever seen a puppy eat that much. He's like a little vacuum cleaner."

She scooped up Leo, the dog happily settling on Charles' lap. Then she turned to Charles, her tone more serious. "Actually, I should really get going and start cleaning up all this mess," she said, gesturing to the collection of plates and takeout containers on the coffee table.

Charles groaned again, his hand still resting on his stomach. "But I'm so comfortable here," he protested, his voice laced with mock protest. "Can't it wait just a little longer?"

Y/n chuckled at his protest, her tone firm but affectionate. "No, no, you relax," she insisted, standing up again. "You did pay for the food, after all. I'll take care of cleaning up."

Charles watched her as she stood up, a pout on his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone reluctant. "I feel bad just sitting here while you do all the work."

Y/n smiled at his concern, her tone gentle yet firm. "It's alright, Charlie," she reassured him. "I can handle this. You just stay put and digest all that food we ate."

Charles relented, his pout turning into a resigned smile. "You're too nice to me," he admitted, his hand rubbing his stomach again. "But alright, I'll stay here and try not to fall asleep."

May 26, 2024 - 8:30 PM

Y/n wiped her hands on the towel, and a satisfied smile appeared on her face. The dishes were clean, the leftover food was packed away, and the coffee table looked presentable again. "There, all done," she announced, her voice slightly tired but content.

She heard a soft, gentle snoring sound as she walked closer to the couch. She chuckled softly, her eyes falling upon Charles. He was fast asleep, his head lolling back against the couch, his mouth slightly open.

Y/n couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight. Leo was sleeping peacefully, his tiny body nestled in Charles' lap. His little paws were tucked beneath him, and his tail was twitching slightly as he dreamt.

Charles, on the other hand, was in a deep sleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. His chest rose and fell with each slow, steady breath he took. It was a sweet, innocent sight to behold.

Y/n settled down on the floor beside Charles, her elbow resting on the cushion of the couch, her face close to his. She looked at him, her eyes soft and content. The soft snoring filled the room, creating a soothing background noise.

She smiled, her eyes still on Charles. She knew all too well how exhausting race days could be for him. The physical and mental energy he expended was immense. It was no wonder he was sleeping so soundly right now.

Charles stirring in his sleep caught Y/n off guard. Suddenly, his hand moved and accidentally smacked Y/n in the face. It wasn't a hard hit, but it was enough to make her slightly recoil.

"Ouch!" Y/n exclaimed, her hand instinctively going to her face where Charles' hand had made contact. She rubbed her cheek softly, a mix of surprise and confusion on her face. "Charlie, wake up. You hit me in the damn face."

Charles roused from his sleep, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He looked blearily at Y/n, still slightly groggy. "What?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "What happened?"

Y/n chuckled, her hand still on her face. "You accidentally hit me in the face while you were asleep," she explained, her tone light-hearted. "Looks like you were dreaming about a boxing match or something."

He blinked, his mind slowly catching up to what Y/n was saying. "I did what?" he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Oh no, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

She laughed gently, shaking her head to reassure him. "It's fine, I'm okay," she chuckled, her hand still massaging her cheek. "You didn't hit me that hard. But maybe you should watch your hands next time you're dreaming about boxing."

Charles stretched his arms, a tired yawn escaping his lips. "Yeah, I guess I should head to bed," he agreed, his voice groggy. "I'm feeling pretty beat after that food coma."

He rubbed his eyes, then turned to Y/n. "Oh, and make sure you use my bathroom to freshen up," he reminded her, his voice still tinged with sleepiness. "You can use whatever you need in there."

Y/n looked up at Charles, a quizzical expression on her face. "Why can't I use the guest bathroom?" she asked, her tone slightly puzzled.

Charles sighed, rubbing his eyes again. "Right, I forgot to tell you," he mumbled, his voice tired but apologetic. "The guest bathroom's pipes need fixing. Can't use that one. Gotta use mine tonight."

She nodded in understanding, her eyes meeting his. "Alright, no problem," she said, a small smile on her face. "I'll use yours then. I don't want to be without a shower tonight."

He returned her smile, his eyes filled with exhaustion but also affection. "Thanks for understanding," he murmured. "Goodnight, and enjoy my bathroom."

Y/n watched him go, her eyes lingering on his sleepy form as he headed down the hallway to his bedroom. She smiled to herself, feeling a mixture of affection and amusement at Charles' tired but sweet gesture.

May 26, 2024 - 11:38 PM

Y/n sat on the bed, scrolling through her phone in the guest bedroom. She glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed the time was 11:38 pm. Realizing it was getting late, she decided it was time to get ready for bed. The thought of a relaxing, warm bath sounded perfect right then.

She gathered her small toiletry bag, a fresh towel, and a change of clothes. She quietly walked out of the guest bedroom and headed down the hallway to Charles' bedroom. Upon reaching his room, she gently turned the doorknob, not wanting to wake him if he was still asleep.

Charles' voice came from inside the room, his tone groggy but awake. "You can come in," he mumbled, his words slightly muffled by his pillow. "I'm awake."

Y/n smiled slightly, grateful that he was awake and ready for her. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, her eyes immediately adjusting to the dim lighting in the room.

Charles was lying in his bed, propped up against the pillows, his hair was tousled and his eyes slightly heavy with sleep. Despite his sleepy appearance, he was watching her as she entered. "You're taking a bath?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Y/n nodded, holding up her toiletry bag and towel. "Yeah, thought it would help me relax before bed," she replied, her tone soft. "Is it okay if I use your bathroom for a bit?"

Charles nodded, a sleepy smile on his lips. "Sure, take your time," he reassured her, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep. "You can use the bathroom as long as you need."

She smiled in appreciation, and his kind words made her feel more comfortable. "Thanks," she said, her tone grateful. "I won't be too long. I just want to unwind a little before bed."

Y/n walked into the bathroom, her toiletry bag clutched in her hand. The soft glow of the bathroom lights illuminated the room as she entered, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

She set her things down on the counter, her mind already contemplating the warm, relaxing bath she was about to enjoy. The bathroom was neat and spacious, the fixtures and tiles gleaming in the soft light. The ambiance was quietly soothing, perfect for a late-night dip.

She turned on the faucet, allowing the water to run in the bathtub, creating a soothing, gentle sound that filled the bathroom. Steam began to rise, the room slowly filling with a warm, comforting humidity. The bathroom was now a miniature sauna, perfect for relaxing tense muscles and calming the mind.

After a few moments, the tub was filled to a comfortable level, bubbles foaming on the surface of the water. Y/n tested the water with her hand, ensuring that the temperature was just right. Then, she turned off the faucet and started to undress, her clothes being neatly folded and placed on the counter.

As Y/n stepped into the tub, the warmth of the water enveloped her. She sank into the bubbles, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. The stress of the day, and the tiredness in her body, all seemed to melt away as she immersed herself in the soothing water. Her eyes closed, her limbs relaxed, and her mind started to unwind.

The steam curled around her, the scent of bath oil mingling with the warm, moist air. She lay back, the water lapping gently at her neck. A few moments passed, the only sound in the bathroom being the soft, gentle splashes of water. Y/n felt her thoughts drift further and further away, her body becoming more and more relaxed as she luxuriated in the tranquility of the moment.

Her mind wandered, memories, and thoughts coming and going gently like a light breeze. The rest of the world seemed distant as if nothing could disturb this blissful sanctuary. She closed her eyes, her breathing slowing, and her body utterly surrendered to the comfort of the water. Time seemed to stand still, her mind floating in a contented blur.

The soothing warmth of the water and the tranquility of the room lulled Y/n into a doze, her mind and body completely relaxed. She lost track of time, her thoughts drifting further and further away until she slipped into a light sleep, the bubbles and steam gently surrounding her.

However, the peaceful moment lasted only a few short minutes. The sound of the bathroom door opening gently roused her from her doze, the sound bringing her back to reality. Y/n's eyes fluttered open, blinking away the daze as she focused on the figure in the doorframe.

The bathroom door had opened, allowing a sliver of light from the outside to fall across the tile floor. Charles stood in the doorway, a slight frown on his face. He hadn't intended to disturb her, but his need for the bathroom had grown too great to ignore.

His hair was a disheveled mess, and his eyes were still half-closed with sleep. He tried to look away, to give her some privacy, but his voice betrayed his concern. "Sorry," he muttered, his tone soft and gravelly. "Just really need to go... I didn't mean to wake you up."

Y/n stirred, pushing up from the water. The bubbles clinging to her form, she sat up in the tub, her eyes on Charles. "It's okay," she reassured him, her voice still tinged with sleep. "I dozed off for a bit. I'll get out in a minute."

Charles hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting away and back to her. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering too far down, but the sight of her in the tub was a bit distracting. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. "I... I can wait."

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the confines of the bathroom. "No, it's fine," she reassured him, her tone light but firm. "You need to go, I can get out."

She quickly grasped her towel and wrapped it around herself, securing it at her chest. Charles turned his gaze away, respecting her modesty. He kept his back to her, giving her the privacy she needed.

The sound of her getting out of the tub made a slight splashing sound, the water shifting as she rose. She stepped out onto the bath mat, her hair slightly damp, and the towel clinging to her form.

Charles nodded, still facing away to give her some privacy. "Alright," he said, his voice still a bit gravelly, "I'll be done soon. You can wait in there and brush your teeth when I'm done."

Y/n nodded, her grip on the towel tightening slightly. "Okay," she replied, her voice soft. "I'll wait here. Take your time."

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Y/n hurried to get changed. Although the bath was relaxing, the knowledge that Charles was waiting just on the other side of the door hurried her movements. She slipped into her fresh clothes, the material cool and comfortable against her still-damp skin.

Within a few minutes, she was fully dressed, her hair still a little damp but tucked away from her face. She checked herself quickly in the mirror, making sure everything was in place before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

The silence in the room was broken only by the occasional sound of a car passing on the street outside. Y/n sat patiently, waiting for Charles to finish. Her mind began to drift, her thoughts a mixture of relaxation and anticipation.

Just as she started to feel a bit antsy, the sound of the bathroom door opening broke the silence. Charles emerged from the bathroom, his hair slightly disheveled but otherwise looking much more awake.

He smiled slightly as his eyes met hers, his expression a mix of tiredness and relief. "All done," he said, his voice still roughened by sleep. "The bathroom's all yours."

Charles leaned against the doorframe, still feeling a bit groggy, but also enjoying the sight of her moving around his bathroom. He tried not to look too closely as she bent over to reach for her toiletry bag, the sight of her in his bathroom quite domestic and slightly stirring.

He waited patiently as she rummaged through her bag, her fingers pulling out her toothbrush and toothpaste. She started to brush her teeth, the sound of the brush against her teeth and the water from the faucet filling the small space.

Charles watched her quietly, his eyes following her movements. He observed the way she moved, the way the light played across her skin, and the small sounds she made as she brushed her teeth. It was all very mundane, yet somehow strangely intimate.

The moment felt almost surreal, the quiet of the night and the intimacy of the bathroom creating a bubble of comfort and familiarity. Charles's mind was still a bit hazy with sleep, but he found himself enjoying the simple act of watching her brush her teeth in his bathroom.

Y/n continued brushing her teeth, her cheeks slightly puffed with foam. She then remembered the plan for the following day and spoke with a foamy mouth, her words slightly garbled. "Where... are we... eating... tomorrow?" she managed to ask, her toothbrush still swirling in her mouth.

Despite her toothbrush-filled mouth, the question was clear. Charles chuckled softly at the sight of her, her hair slightly messy, dressed in her pajamas, and talking with a mouth full of foam.

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he responded. "I was thinking we could go to that new café downtown," he suggested, his voice still rough with sleep. "I've heard they have great pastries and coffee."

Y/n nodded, the toothbrush still in her mouth. The idea of pastries and coffee sounded delightful, especially in the morning. However, the foam made her answer turn into a series of mumbled sounds, leaving Charles unsure of what she was actually saying.

Charles chuckled softly, amused by her foamy response. "I'll take that as a yes," he said light-heartedly, unable to keep a smile off his face.

She tried to respond but ended up sending a few drops of foamy toothpaste sputtering onto the sink. She quickly rinsed out her mouth, spitting the foam out. "Sorry," she sheepishly apologized, her cheeks slightly pink. "Hard to talk when my mouth is full of foam."

Charles chuckled again, the sound echoing around the small bathroom. "It's fine," he reassured her, his voice warm. "It was entertaining to watch, even if I couldn't make out half of what you were saying."

Y/n leaned against the counter, exhaustion beginning to show in her every muscle. Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a weary sigh. "I'm too tired to walk back to the guest bedroom," she mumbled, her tone weary and a bit whiny.

Charles saw her slouched form and sympathized with her fatigue. He knew it was past midnight and she'd had a long day. "You can just sleep here if you want," he suggested, his tone gentle yet practical.

Y/n perked up slightly at his suggestion. The idea of collapsing into the comfort of a bed without having to move sounded heavenly. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a tired murmur.

Charles nodded, his eyes softening at her tired state. "It's fine," he reassured her, a small smile on his lips. "I don't mind. This bed is plenty big enough for both of us."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her cheeks slightly warm. The thought of sharing a bed with Charles was undeniably intimate, but her body's need for rest was so great, that she couldn't find the energy to protest. "Okay," she agreed, her voice barely more than a weary murmur.

She stumbled to the bed, her weary steps almost resembling a slow run. She practically collapsed onto the sheets, the soft, cool fabric feeling luxurious against her tired body. She landed on the bed with a satisfied sigh, the impact sending the sheets billowing slightly.

Y/n sank into the bed, her limbs feeling like lead. A weary groan escaped her lips as she wrapped her arms around a nearby pillow, pulling it close to her chest. The pillows felt soft and supportive, the bed molding around her form like a cozy, welcoming cocoon.

Charles watched her with an affectionate smile, amused by her eagerness to be in bed and the speed with which she had buried herself in the pillows. He moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and watching as she settled into the sheets.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of her, her body half-buried under the pillows and blankets. Her eyes were closed, the exhaustion of the day evident in the way she had slumped into the soft bedding.

"Comfy?" he teased gently, his tone a mix of amusement and affection. He reached out and ruffled her hair, his fingers briefly touching her forehead.

Y/n mumbled an affirmative reply, her words barely intelligible as she mumbled into the pillows. "Mmmhmm..." was all she managed to get out, her eyes still closed, and her body snuggled deep into the bed.

Charles smiled at her sleepy reply, finding her exhaustion endearing. He continued to sit on the edge of the bed, watching as she nuzzled into the pillows, almost melting into the bedding.

"You look like you're ready to hibernate," he teased her again, his tone gentle but amused. He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair once more, his touch tender but affectionate.

Charles smiled at her lack of reply, amused by her quick transition into sleep. He had barely finished speaking when he saw her body relax further into the bed, her breath evening out into the slow rhythm of sleep.

He chuckled softly, realizing she had fallen asleep mid-conversation. He stood up from the edge of the bed and walked over to the light switch, flicking it off. The room fell into darkness, the only light coming from the sliver of moonlight from outside.

Charles carefully slid into the bed, trying not to disturb Y/n's sleep. Once he was settled, he moved closer to her, gently maneuvering her body so she was pressed against him. His arm curled around her, pulling her close against his chest, and he held her close, her warmth and soft breathing against his skin.

He lay there, awake, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. The soft sound of her breathing was like a lullaby, and he found himself soothed by her closeness.

Charles began to hum softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The melody was slow and soothing, the song a soft rendition of Édith Piaf's "La Vie en Rose." His voice was warm and gentle, the sound reverberating silently in the quiet room.

He continued to hum as he held Y/n close, the sound of his voice mingling with her soft breathing. The melody was a small, comforting addition to the silence, a soothing lullaby only meant for her sleeping form.

As he hummed, his eyes traced her features in the dim light. He could make out the soft curve of her nose, the gentle angle of her jawline, the fluttering of her eyelashes against her cheeks. She looked peaceful in sleep, her face relaxed and free from the lines and shadows of daytime.

His hold on her was gentle but tight, his arm wrapped firmly around her, keeping her close. The feel of her body against his was comforting, a steady reminder that she was there, safe in his arms.

Charles's voice trailed off as he finished singing the final note of "La Vie en Rose." He let the silence settle for a moment, his breath a soft sigh against her hair.

Then, he whispered, his voice barely audible in the darkness, "God, if only you knew how much I love you. If only you weren't so dense." His tone was affectionate yet tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Charles continued to hold Y/n close, his eyes still on her face, even in the dim moonlight. He whispered softly to himself, his words barely a sound.

"One day," he muttered, his voice a whisper. "I'll tell you one day."

His voice was filled with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. He knew confessing wouldn't be easy, and the fear of rejection was a constant gnawing in the back of his mind. Yet, the need to tell her how he felt was growing more powerful by the day.

For now, though, he'd continue to hold her close, appreciating the quiet intimacy of the moment. He closed his eyes, listening to her steady breathing, and willed himself to sleep.

May 27, 2024 - 8:16 AM

Y/n stirred, her eyes slowly fluttering open. The room was filled with the soft morning light, and for a moment she was disoriented. Then she became aware of her surroundings, the realization that she wasn't in her own bed slowly dawning on her.

She sat up, her head still fuzzy from sleep, and her eyes widened as she saw not Charles but Leo lying next to her, in the same spot Charles had been the night before.

The sight of Leo sleeping peacefully made her blink, a rush of surprise and confusion going through her heart. A million questions raced through her mind. Where was Charles? Was this a dream? But she quickly became aware that this was very real, and Leo was indeed sharing the bed with her.

Y/n's hand moved almost on its own, gently reaching out to stroke Leo's head. The soft fur felt warm under her fingers, a stark contrast to the cool sheets she had just woken up from.

Leo stirred slightly at her touch, his head nuzzling closer to her hand. He let out a soft, contented sigh, still mostly asleep.

She scooted closer to Leo on the bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep but her curiosity stirring. "Leo," she whispered, her voice soft yet a hint of worry in her tone. "Do you know where Charles went?"

Leo blinked open his eyes slowly, his intelligent gaze meeting hers. He yawned widely, showing off his little tongue before tilting his head to one side, clearly not understanding her question.

Y/n's head whipped around at the sound of a laugh, and her eyes met Charles's form standing in the doorway. A wave of relief washed over her as she saw that he was okay and had not disappeared into thin air.

"You're here," she said, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief. She pushed herself into a sitting position, shaking the last tendrils of sleep from her mind. "Where did you go? And why is Leo in the bed?"

Charles chuckled at her question, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. He walked over to the bed, a cup of coffee in his hand. "I went to get us both some coffee," he explained, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, next to where Y/n was still sitting.

"And as for Leo," he added with a smirk, "he just wanted to keep you company."

Leo had also perked up at the sound of Charles's voice, his tail thumping softly against the sheets. He let out another soft sigh before stretching out, rolling onto his back and exposing his stomach.

Charles took a sip of his coffee, his eyes watching Y/n and Leo with fond amusement. "Seems like he's quite comfortable here," he commented, his voice laced with a hint of humor.

Y/n yawned and stretched slightly, her eyes still half-focused on Leo's adorable form on the bed. Her gaze then flicked to Charles, a sleepy smile on her lips. "Well," she teased, her voice still raspy with sleep, "who wouldn't be? Your bed is huge."

Charles chuckled at her comment, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I guess I have a lot of room to share," he replied, his tone lighthearted. He took another sip of his coffee, savoring the hot liquid.

"It's a good thing," he added, his tone becoming a bit more serious. "It means I have enough space for both you and Leo." He reached out, his fingers gently scratching behind Leo's ear, earning a soft, satisfied whine from the dachshund.

"See? He likes the bed," he said, his tone softening as his gaze met Y/n's again. He put down his coffee on the bedside table, his eyes studying her face. "How'd you sleep?"

Y/n took a moment to consider his question, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I slept well," she answered, her voice still a bit dazed from sleep. "Although, I admit waking up to Leo instead of you was a bit of a shocker."

Charles chuckled at her reply, his shoulders shaking slightly with the sound. "Sorry about that," he apologized, his tone slightly sheepish. "I didn't want to wake you, and I didn't expect Leo to take my place so quickly."

Leo, as if sensing they were talking about him, let out a small, tired 'woof' before rolling over onto his front, his paws sticking out adorably. He let out another sigh, his eyes half-closed in contentment.

Charles bent down and patted Leo's head gently, his smile widening at the dog's adorable display. "Looks like I've been replaced," he joked, his tone playful but laced with a hint of affection.

Y/n chuckled softly, her eyes watching the interaction between Charles and Leo. "Looks like you have," she agreed, her tone light and amused. She reached out a hand, scratching behind Leo's other ear, eliciting another soft whine of contentment from the dachshund.

She pushed the covers off, reluctantly leaving the warm, comfortable bed. With a small groan of sleepiness, she stood up, the cold hardwood floor against her bare feet.

"I'm going to go use the bathroom," she announced, her voice still hoarse from sleep. She stretched her arms over her head, yawning widely as she made her way across the room.

Charles watched her as she moved across the room, her sleepy form padding towards the bathroom. "Take your time," he said, his tone gentle. "I'll be here when you're back."

Y/n nodded, her hair slightly mussed from sleep. "I won't be long," she said, her voice still half-slurred from sleep. She pushed open the bathroom door and disappeared inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Charles leaned back against the headboard, turning his attention to Leo, who was now rolling back and forth on the bed, seemingly enjoying every inch of the large expanse of sheets. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, reaching out to scratch the dog's belly gently.

Charles's hand continued to rub Leo's stomach, his eyes watching the dachshund lazily rolling around. His question hung in the air, the weight of it echoing around in his mind.

His expression softened, and he spoke softly, his voice just above a murmur, "When do I tell her?"

He hadn't expected a response from a dog, but speaking his thoughts out loud helped to somehow organize them in his mind. The sound of Y/n moving around in the bathroom filtered through the door, background noise to his contemplation.

Charles sighed, the weight of his feelings for her seeming to get heavier with each passing day. The need to tell her how he felt was becoming more urgent, the words threatening to spill out at any moment. But the fear of her rejection, the possibility of losing her friendship... it was enough to keep him holding his tongue.

As the moment passed, he shook his head slightly, forcing the thoughts away for now. Y/n would be out of the bathroom soon, and he didn't want her to see him too lost in his own thoughts.

He turned his attention back to Leo, continuing to rub the dog's stomach, the repetitive motion helping to soothe his own restless thoughts.

The sound of the bathroom door opening brought his attention back to the present. He looked up to see Y/n exit the bathroom, her hair slightly less mussed now. She walked back to the bed, her steps a bit less sleepy than before.

"Feel better?" Charles asked, his voice still a soft murmur. He watched her approach, the morning light from the window casting her figure into a soft golden glow.

Y/n nodded in reply, a small, satisfied smile on her face. "Yes, much better," she answered, her voice clearer now, having lost the sleep-induced huskiness. She collapsed back onto the bed, the soft sheets welcoming her tired form back into their embrace.

She scooped up Leo, her hands gently holding the dachshund's small body against her chest. She cradled him against her, his soft fur rubbing against her bare skin. Leo let out a soft, contented sigh, snuggling closer to her neck, his warmth and scent offering her comfort.

Y/n looked down at Leo, her fingers gently stroking the soft fur on his head. A soft, affectionate smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she whispered, "Oh, you're my little baby, aren't you?" she cooed, her tone soft and affectionate.

Leo's ears perked up at her words, his small head lifting from where it was resting at her neck. He let out a soft whine, as if in agreement.

Charles watched the interaction between Y/n and Leo, his heart skipping a beat at her use of the word 'baby'. The casualness with which she used it, the affection in her voice... it made something stir within him.

He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, a mix of fondness and subtle jealousy swirling within him.

The word 'baby' echoed in his mind. He wanted to hear her say it to him, longed to have that affectionate tone directed towards him. But he pushed the thought away quickly, not wanting to dwell too long on his own unrequited feelings.

He chuckled softly, his tone purposefully lighthearted, "Looks like Leo's got a new favorite."

Y/n looked up at Charles with a playful, mock-mean expression, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "What do you mean, 'new favorite?' I've always been Leo's favorite," she declared, her voice carrying a hint of playful defensiveness.

Leo seemed to sense the playfulness in her tone. He let out a soft 'woof,' his little tail wagging fiercely as if agreeing with her statement.

She stuck out her tongue defiantly at Charles, her tone playful but laced with a hint of satisfaction. "He loves me more than you," she stated, holding up Leo as if to prove her point.

Leo seemed to know he was the center of their playful argument. He let out a soft whine, his head tilting from side to side as if unable to pick a side.

Charles feigned hurt, placing a hand over his chest in mock-shock. "Ouch," he joked, his tone light but with a hint of genuine amusement. He raised an eyebrow at Y/n, playing along with her banter.

"Traitor," he muttered jokingly to Leo, though his eyes were still on Y/n, the sparkle of humor dancing in them.

Charles leaned back against the headboard, a hand rubbing his chin in thought. "Unfortunately," he said, his tone laced with a slight hint of disappointment, "the café is closed today."

He paused for a moment, mulling over his next words before continuing, "Apparently, the owner is having his birthday party, and he's given all his employees the day off."

Y/n's expression mirrored Charles's disappointment, a small pout on her lips. "That's a shame," she replied, her voice softer, the playful banter from before replaced by a genuine hint of disappointment.

She looked down at Leo, who was now lying comfortably on her lap, his little eyes closing as if falling back asleep. "I was looking forward to their pastries," she added, her tone slightly wistful.

Charles reassured her with a small smile, his tone hopeful. "It's okay," he said, his words gentle, "We can stay here for now, and later we can go out for brunch."

He shifted slightly, turning his body to face her more directly, the morning light bathing them both in a soft, warm glow.

"Besides," he added, his tone a hint more playful, "we can have Leo all to ourselves for longer. He seems quite content right where he is." He nodded towards the dachshund, who was still lying peacefully in her lap, now fast asleep and lightly snoring.

Y/n looked down at Leo with a soft smile, her fingers gently scratching behind the dachshund's ear. "But is it normal for puppies to sleep this much?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

Leo stirred slightly, his little nose twitching as if sensing they were talking about him, but he continued to sleep, his tiny paws moving occasionally in his dreams.

Charles nodded in confirmation, a small smile on his lips as the memories of Leo's earlier antics filled his mind. "Yup," he confirmed, his tone casual. "He had a major case of the zoomies this morning. Running laps around the living room, barking, the whole nine yards."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of disbelief coloring her voice. "I slept through that?" she asked, her tone laced with a mixture of shock and amusement.

Charles chuckled at her reaction, nodding. "Oh, yeah," he confirmed, his voice slightly amused, "You were out like a light."

"You were completely oblivious to all the commotion," he added, a hint of fond admiration in his voice. "Leo was running circles around the room, barking like his little heart was about to burst, and you didn't even twitch."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Charles trying to wrangle a hyperactive puppy while she blissfully slept through the chaos. "I feel like I should apologize," she said between giggles, "but it's also kind of funny that I missed out on all the fun."

Charles chuckled along with her, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the memory. "It was a sight to behold," he said, his tone lighthearted. "Honestly, I didn't know what to do with him. He was like a little tornado, zooming around the room at top speed."

"I tried to get him to calm down a bit," he confessed, "but he was having way too much fun. He was chasing his own tail, running into walls, yipping and barking like he'd just discovered the meaning of life."

Y/n looked down at Leo, her initial shock replaced by a soft, affectionate smile. "Poor baby," she murmured, her voice soft and gentle. "He must be exhausted."

She gently stroked the sleeping dachshund's head, her fingers gently running through his soft, short fur.

Leo stirred slightly in his sleep, his little nose wrinkling as if in response to her touch. His eyes remained closed, but he let out a soft, contented sigh, snuggling deeper into Y/n's lap.

Y/n looked up at Charles, a soft yawn escaping her lips. "Can I go back to sleep for a bit?" she asked, her voice still a bit drowsy.

Charles smiled, nodding gently. "Of course," he replied, his tone reassuring. "You can sleep for as long as you want. Leo and I will be right here when you wake up."

Y/n's shoulders relaxed in relief, her tiredness seeming to overtake her. She let out another, wider yawn, her eyelids already starting to droop. "Thanks," she murmured, her words slightly slurred with sleep.

May 27, 2024 - 10:21 AM

He gently shakes Y/n's shoulder, drawing her from the pleasant world of dreams. "Y/n," he says softly, his voice warm and gentle. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's time to get ready."

Y/n slowly opens her eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her. She blinks a few times, her vision clearing, and meets Charles's gaze. "Already?" she mumbles, her voice still thick with sleep.

Charles nods, a small smile on his face. "Yep," he confirms. "I'm all set, and Leo's ready too."

He gestures towards Leo, who is now sitting by the bed, his little ears perked up and his tail wagging as if he understands the conversation.

Charles nods patiently, his smile still in place. "Sure," he replies, "Take your time. I'll wait for you here with Leo."

Y/n smiles in appreciation, and with a last, lingering glance at the duo, she heads into the bathroom to freshen up.

A few minutes later, Y/n poked her head out from the bathroom door, her hair still slightly damp. "Charlie," she called, her voice carrying through the open door, "Can you grab my dress for me? I left it on the bed in the guest room. I had it all ready last night before I fell asleep."

Charles looked up from where he had been playing with Leo, the dachshund now chewing on one of his shoes. "Sure thing," he replied, standing up and heading towards the guest room.

He navigated his way into the spacious guest room, the bed neat and tidy, the dress laid out meticulously on top. He picked up the dress, his eyes running over the delicate fabric and the design that Y/n had chosen.

He took a moment to appreciate the dress before walking back towards the bathroom, the dress safely in his hands. As he approached the bathroom door, he knocked gently, alerting Y/n of his arrival.

"I've got the dress," he called out, his voice soft so as not to startle her. He waited for a moment, giving her a chance to respond before proceeding.

Y/n peeps out from the bathroom door once more, a warm smile on her face. "Thank you, Charlie," she says, genuinely appreciative of his help.

Charles smiles back at her, holding the dress out for her to take. "You're welcome," he replies, his voice gentle. He takes a moment to appreciate the view of her standing there in the doorway, the morning sunlight catching the wet strands of her hair and making them sparkle.

He hands her the dress, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. There's a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of Leo's soft panting and the distant hum of city life outside.

Y/n emerges from the bathroom, the soft fabric of her dress falling gently around her legs. She smooths out any wrinkles, adjusting the straps and hemlines until she is satisfied.

Looking up at Charles, she says, "All ready," her voice cheerful despite the early hour.

Charles does a slow, subtle scan of her appearance, his gaze taking in the way the dress hugs her figure and accentuates her curves. He can't help the small appreciative smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Y/n scoops up Leo, the dachshund snuggling comfortably against her chest. She grabs her phone from the bedside table and gives Charles's hand a firm pull, practically dragging him towards the door.

"Let's go," she urges, her tone full of eagerness.

Charles chuckles at her eagerness, allowing himself to be led by Y/n, their hands still linked together, and follows her towards the door. Leo lets out a soft little bark as if cheering them on.

The three of them head out into the hallway, Charles keeping pace beside Y/n as they make their way towards the front door. The soft pat-pat of their footsteps and the occasional squeak from Leo were the only sounds in the apartment.

They reach the front door, and Charles holds it open for Y/n and Leo, a gentlemanly gesture that seems almost second nature to him. "After you," he says, his tone light but filled with affectionate warmth.

Y/n grins at his old-fashioned chivalry, passing through the open doorway with Leo in her arms. "Why, thank you," she says, her words tinged with affectionate amusement.

Charles follows, letting go of the door as it closes behind him. He falls into step beside her, their shoulders nearly touching. "No problem," he replies, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a small, private smile.

She notices Charles's unwavering gaze and asks, a hint of curiosity and amusement in her voice. "What? Is there something on my face? You've been staring at me the whole way down."

Charles's smile widens, caught in the act. He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck before replying, "No, no, nothing on your face. I was just watching you with Leo. You two are so cute together."

Y/n smiles, her gaze shifting down to Leo in her arms, who is oblivious to the conversation. "Oh, yeah," she says, a hint of pride in her voice, "We do make a pretty cute pair, don't we?"

He nods in agreement, his gaze shifting to both Y/n and Leo in her arms. "Absolutely," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "You and Leo are the cutest pair I've ever seen."

His eyes dart between Y/n and the dog, taking in the sight of the dachshund, so completely at ease in her arms. The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby, and he steps out, holding the door open for Y/n and Leo once more.

They step out into the lobby, the world outside the glass doors filled with the sounds of the city. Charles leads them out into the street, the sun warm and bright. As they walk, he can't help but glance at Y/n every so often, a small, fond smile playing on his lips.

The pair walk down the street, crossing intersections and passing by shops and cafes. Leo stays snuggled in Y/n's arms, his little head resting on her shoulder. Y/n and Charles walk quietly beside each other, the comfortable silence between them occasionally broken by a comment or a soft laugh.

They reach an open-air café, the outdoor seats under a shady tree filled with people enjoying their breakfast. Charles pulls out a chair for Y/n, gesturing for her to sit, his chivalry still very much in play.

"Have a seat," he says, his tone warm and gentle. "I'll go get us some breakfast menus."

Y/n smiles in appreciation, settling down on the comfortable chair with Leo still in her arms. She watches as Charles makes his way towards the counter, weaving through the tables and chairs with ease.

He reaches the counter, chatting with the employee behind it and perusing the menu on the wall. After a few moments, he returns with two breakfast menus, a smile on his face.

He hands one of the menus to Y/n and takes a seat across from her, a small gap between their chairs. He opens his own menu, his eyes scanning over the options. Leo stretches in Y/n's lap, his little arms and legs stretching out as he lets out a soft yawn.

Y/n grins at the sight, her fingers absently running through Leo's soft fur. She looks at her own menu, her eyes darting over the various breakfast items. "So many choices," she muses, her tone a mix of amusement and slight indecision.

Charles glances up from his own menu, a lopsided smile on his face. "Tell me about it," he agrees, a small huff of laughter escaping him. "I don't know if I want pancakes, eggs, or just a straight-up bowl of bacon."

Y/n laughs, imagining the sight of a plate stacked high with bacon. "A bowl of bacon does sound tempting," she replies, her tone jokingly serious. "But it might not be the best choice for breakfast."

Charles laughs along with her, the sound filling the space between them. "True," he concedes. "I don't think I want to start the day with a heart attack waiting to happen."

He looks back down at the menu, his expression thoughtful. "How about waffles?" he suggests, the word coming out slowly as if he's mulling over the idea.

Y/n considers the suggestion for a moment, her lips curving into a small, approving smile. "Waffles sound good," she agrees, nodding her head in agreement. "But only if they come with extra syrup."

Charles grins at her request, his eyes lighting up in amusement. "Extra syrup? That's non-negotiable," he clarifies, his tone still lighthearted. "Waffles without enough syrup are just sad, cold pancakes."

Y/n laughs in agreement, the sound ringing out around them. "Exactly," she says, a firm nod of her head. "Syrup is the most important part of a waffle. Without it, it's just a waste of carbs."

He wags a finger at her in a playful manner, his tone half-serious. "You know, I'm starting to think you just have a thing for sweet things. Coffee with too much sugar, syrup on everything..."

Y/n grins slyly, feigning ignorance. "Me? A sweet tooth?" she replies, her tone innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I just like my food to have actual flavor."

Charles gives her a mock-skeptical look, a small chuckle escaping him. "Oh, really now? So that time last week when we shared a cheesecake and you almost went into a sugar coma..."

She laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That was for scientific purposes only," she clarifies, her tone light and playful. "I was testing my body's tolerance to sugar. It's all in the name of science."

Charles rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, his tone equally light. "Right, because science always requires two whole slices of cheesecake to be eaten in one sitting."

Y/n raises a finger in the air, a mock-serious expression on her face. "Science demands dedication," she says, her tone bordering on solemn, though her eyes still sparkle with amusement. "It's not my fault that cheesecake is the perfect medium for testing."

Charles watches her, his expression is fond and affectionate. He's so used to her antics and quick wit that even her playful arguments are endearing to him.

"Alright," he concedes, a small, affectionate sigh leaving his lips. "You win this round, scientific genius."

Y/n grins, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "I win every round, Charlie," she retorts, her tone smug. "It's a curse, really. My powers of logic and science-based reasoning are just too much for mere mortals like yourself to handle."

Charles laughs, shaking his head in good-natured defeat. "I should've known better than to argue with a genius," he admits, his tone filled with amusement. "From now on, I'll just stick to nodding along and agreeing with everything you say. Much easier that way."

May 27, 2024 - 11:42 AM

After they're done with their breakfast, Charles pays the bill and they head out of the café, Leo snuggles comfortably in Y/n's arms. As they walk back to Charles' place, he can't help but steal small glances at Y/n and Leo, his heart swelling with affection.

Leo gives a soft yip of recognition as they approach the apartment building, and wiggles in Y/n's arms, eager to get back to the familiar surroundings.

They enter the elevator, the metal walls gleaming in the harsh artificial light. Charles stands close to Y/n, Leo's weight between them, their arms occasionally grazing against each other.

The elevator dings, signaling their arrival at Charles' floor, and they make their way to his door, Leo's little paws tapping eagerly against the plush carpeted floor.

They enter the apartment, the door closing behind them with a resounding thud. Y/n sets Leo down, and he immediately barrels off, small paws thudding against the floor as he scurries into the living room, a little ball of energy.

Charles shuts the door behind them, his eyes lingering on Y/n for a moment before looking away, a slight flush creeping up his neck.

He clears his throat, the blush on his neck deepening slightly. "So, Y/n, I was wondering... when will you be driving back to France?"

His voice wavers slightly at the mention of her leaving, his heart heavy at the thought of not having her around. But he tries to hide it, maintaining a casual tone.

Y/n glances at her watch, her expression thoughtful. "I should be leaving for France before 5PM today," she replies, her tone firm. "The roads can get busy, so I want to make sure I have plenty of time."

Charles nods, a faint feeling of dread settling in his stomach. "Right, right," he says, forcing a small smile. "Gotta beat the traffic." He tries to match her casual tone, but the tightness of his voice betrays his emotions.

Y/n senses the change in his demeanor and steps closer, her voice softer now. "Don't worry, Charlie," she says, meeting his gaze. "I'll be back before you know it. And we can FaceTime every night until then. It's not like I'm disappearing off the face of the Earth."

She gives him a reassuring grin, her own heart heavy at the thought of leaving him behind. But she knows they need to face this reality, and her determination overrides her sadness.

Charles looks at her, his expression a mix of relief and sadness. "Yeah," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're right. FaceTime will be great. We'll stay in touch. And I'll plan our next movie marathon for when you're back."

He gives her a lopsided smile, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Just... promise me you'll drive safe, yeah?"

Y/n smiles, a genuine warmth radiating from her eyes. "You know I will, Charlie. Promise," she assures him. "And we're definitely having a movie marathon the moment I'm back. Just keep the popcorn ready."

He nods, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You know I always have popcorn ready," he says, his voice tinged with affection. "And we might as well make a day of it. Pizza, popcorn, the whole nine yards."

Charles glances at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, the hands ticking softly, the rhythmic sound echoing in the small space. "You still have about five hours before you need to leave," he points out, his tone thoughtful.

He looks back at Y/n, his expression hopeful. "How about we watch a movie? Take our minds off the fact that you're leaving for a bit?" He offers her a small smile, the invitation genuine.

Y/n smiles, a bright sparkle lighting up her eyes. "That sounds like a great idea, Charlie!" she exclaims, a hint of excitement in her tone. "You make the popcorn. I'll pick the movie."

Charles nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. "You got it," he says, his tone light. "I'll whip up some popcorn. You get the movie set up. Just don't pick something too depressing, yeah? I don't think I can handle both of us feeling sad."

Y/n laughs, playfully rolling her eyes. "Please, I have impeccable taste in movies," she retorts, her tone laced with mock-affronted humor. "I wouldn't dream of subjecting you to a depressing film. We'll stick to feel-good, laugh-a-minute kind of stuff. We can save the melodrama for another day."

She makes her way over to the couch, the soft cushions beckoning her. She takes a seat, kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable. The sound of the grandfather clock continues, marking the passing of time, as Y/n scrolls through the movies on the TV, searching for the perfect film to suit the mood.

"Hey, Charlie!" Y/n's voice rings out across the room, her tone light and playful. "I've got two options here: 'Mamma Mia!' or 'Wild Child'. What do you feel like watching?"

Charles appears through the kitchen door, a bowl of fresh popcorn in his hands. He chuckles at her shouts, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, both sound tempting," he muses, his tone light. "But let's go for 'Mamma Mia'. Can't go wrong with some ABBA, right?"

Y/n grins, nodding excitedly. "You read my mind, Charlie. We can't pass up ABBA on our movie night. It's a crime against good taste." She taps a few buttons on her phone, queuing up 'Mamma Mia!' on their streaming service.

Charles hands her the bowl of popcorn, his fingers brushing against hers in a fleeting moment of contact. He settles down beside her, a comfortable distance between them, as the opening credits of 'Mamma Mia!' begin to roll. They munch on the popcorn and lose themselves in the familiar tunes and lighthearted storyline, enjoying the shared moment together.

As the movie plays on, Y/n finds herself singing along to the ABBA classics, her voice light and slightly off-key, filling the room with a contagious joy. Charles joins in too, his tone deeper and more confident, harmonizing with Y/n's vocals. They laugh at the cheesy jokes and dance along to the catchy songs, their worries momentarily forgotten in the shared fun of the musical.

May 27, 2024 - 4:22 PM

As the credits roll, and 'Hamilton' comes to a close, Y/n catches sight of the digital clock on the side table. The bright red numerals read '4:22 PM', and a sense of unease washes over her.

"Four-twenty-two?" she exclaims, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. "Damn, how did time slip away so fast? I need to get going soon."

Charles glances at the clock, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. "You're right," he nods, his tone tinged with regret. "We need to get you back on the road soon. Can't have you driving after sunset." He rises from the couch, gesturing towards the guest room. "Let's get your things ready."

In the guest room, Charles helps Y/n pack her clothes efficiently. They work together in a comfortable silence, their movements synchronized. Charles carefully folds Y/n's clothes and tucks them into her suitcase, his touch gentle and efficient.

As they work, the atmosphere in the room is tinged with a sense of nostalgia and a hint of sadness. Although they're focused on the task at hand, they're both aware of the impending separation looming over them.

Y/n's gaze occasionally meets Charles as they pack, the unspoken emotions lingering between them. Charles steals glances at her, his eyes softening at the sight of her. Y/n, too, finds herself stealing glances at him, her heart growing heavier with every item packed.

Once the suitcase is packed, Charles closes it with a gentle click, securing the zipper. He steps back, his gaze meeting Y/n's with a mixture of sadness and affection. "All set?" he asks, his voice a soft whisper as if he's reluctant to break the comfortable silence that has settled between them.

Y/n looks at him, her gaze filled with an unspoken emotion, a mix of yearning and bittersweet acceptance. "Yeah," she says softly, her words barely above a whisper. "I think so. Just one more thing to do."

Without hesitation, she closes the distance between them, enveloping Charles in a tight hug. Charles wraps his arms around her, holding her close. The embrace feels like an unspoken promise, a silent assurance of their connection despite the physical separation that awaits them soon.

They stay like that for a few moments, and the world around them seems to fade away. For those brief seconds, time stands still, and they allow themselves to savor the warmth and solace of each other's presence. Eventually, Y/n pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting Charles's in a silent understanding. It's time for her to leave.

"I should get going," she says, her voice laced with a mix of sadness and determination. Charles nods, understanding the finality of the moment. "Alright," he whispers, his voice a tender caress against the stillness. "Drive safely, okay? And don't forget to FaceTime me tonight."

"Of course," Y/n confirms, her voice steady despite the pang of heartache. "As soon as I get settled, we'll FaceTime. You can't get rid of me that easily." A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, a bittersweet expression that echoes the emotions swirling within her.

Charles smiles, mirroring Y/n's bittersweet expression. "I wouldn't dream of it," he says softly, his fingers gently brushing a stray hair away from her face. "Until tonight, Y/n. Drive safely, and I'll be here waiting for your call."

May 27, 2024 - 5:42 PM

Y/n's car pulls into the parking lot of her apartment building in France. As she parks, a sense of familiarity washes over her, the sight of the place she calls home comforting after the long journey. But there's an emptiness, too, a void that she knows will only be filled once she's reunited with Charles.

Gathering her belongings, she steps out of the car, the familiar scent of the French countryside filling her senses. For a moment, she just stands there, soaking in the surroundings, a mix of emotions swirling within her - excitement to be home, sadness at the prospect of being away from Charles.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the landscape. Y/n takes a deep breath, the cool evening air filling her lungs, and she starts walking toward her apartment building.

As she approaches the entrance, a bittersweet pang tugs at her heart. The thought of being separated from Charles for days, maybe even weeks, is daunting, but she knows they can weather this distance.

Y/n dives into her unpacking routine, meticulously organizing her things. However, she keeps getting side-tracked; a stack of books needing proper arrangement, a pile of photos requiring categorization, or a collection of trinkets demanding specific display spots.

As a result, she doesn't notice how time ticks away as she turns her simple unpacking task into a full apartment makeover.

By the time she checked the clock, 4 hours had passed. Her apartment looks spick and span, but she's only unpacked about half of her luggage. She lets out a laugh; it seems unpacking and cleaning were just covered for an impromptu interior design overhaul.

As Y/n finishes up the last of her unpacking, a sudden realization hits her. Her toiletry bag, a staple for any extended stay, is nowhere to be found. She recalls leaving it behind in Monaco. Frustration and disbelief flit across her face, the inconvenience of the situation sinking in.

Y/n stands in her spotless bathroom, torn between two unappealing options: going a night without brushing her teeth or making a late-night trip to the store for a new toothbrush. The thought of sacrificing oral hygiene isn't all that appealing, but neither is the idea of stepping out in the brisk evening air to buy new tooth-cleaning supplies.

Just as Y/n contemplates skipping her evening teeth-cleaning session, a sharp pang of longing for Charles hits out of nowhere. It catches her off guard, the realization of being separated from him sinking in once again. The empty toothbrush holder on the bathroom counter seems to echo the emptiness she feels without his presence

Suddenly, the truth hits Y/n with the force of a freight train. The feeling of having left something behind wasn't about a toothbrush at all; it was the poignant realization of leaving Charles behind in Monaco. Their separation weighs heavily on her heart, and in that moment, she misses his presence more than ever.

Y/n finds herself gazing at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a sudden clarity dawning on her. A profound understanding washes over her as she whispers quietly to herself, "I love him."

The words hang in the air, echoing in the silent apartment. The realization brings a flood of emotions: joy, vulnerability, relief, and a sense of finally acknowledging what has been there all along. She loves Charles with a depth and intensity that leaves her breathless.

Without a second thought, Y/n hastily snatches her phone and car keys from the kitchen counter. She dashes through the darkened apartment, hastily flicking off lights and unplugging appliances as she goes.

Within minutes, she's out the door, the cool evening air enveloping her as she steps outdoors. A sense of urgency fuels her stride as she makes her way towards the parking lot, each step carrying her closer to the road that will bridge the physical distance between her and Charles.

Y/n's hands grip the steering wheel as she navigates the darkening streets, her heart beating with anticipation. The night is deep, but the city lights guide her way as she drives towards Monaco.

The prospect of seeing Charles again fuels her determination, her foot growing heavier on the pedal as she presses onward. Every mile feels like an eternity, but she knows that each one brings her closer to the moment when she'll be reunited with the one person who truly matters.

Her thoughts wander, imagining the moment when she'll see Charles. How his eyes will light up, or the warm embrace they'll share. The images fuel her determination to keep driving faster, to bridge the distance that separates them just a little bit quicker. The cityscape whizzes by, but she's resolute in her goal: to be with Charles once more.

May 27, 2024 - 11:09 PM

As Y/n stands outside Charles's door, a rush of emotions washes over her. Her heart races, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself before finally knocking on the door. The sound of her knuckles against the wood echoes in the quiet night.

Y/n braces herself, unsure of what awaits on the other side. Will Charles be surprised? Happy? Relieved? The anticipation gnaws at her, building with every passing second.

The sound of soft footsteps approaches from inside, and then the door swings open, revealing a bewildered Charles. He stares at Y/n in disbelief, his expression a mix of shock and delight. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" he queries, his voice tinged with both surprise and warmth.

Y/n musters up a shaky explanation, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and slight hesitation. "I... I left my toiletry bag here," she stammers, her words tumbling out in a hurry. "I didn't realize until after I had unpacked and organized my things. And, well, here I am." She flashes a sheepish smile, trying to downplay the fact that she drove all the way back just for her toiletry bag.

Charles stands dumbfounded for a beat, his mind trying to process the situation. But then, a slow grin spreads across his face. "You drove all the way back... for your toiletry bag?" he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. Despite the unconventional reason for her visit, he can't help but find the situation charming in its absurdity.

Y/n gathers her courage and blurts out her true feelings, the words spilling forth in a rush. "I... I missed you," she confesses, her voice filled with a mixture of earnestness and vulnerability. "I know it sounds crazy, but being separated from you, even for a few hours, felt unbearable. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing."

Her words come out in a rush, her emotions spilling over. "God dammit, Charles, I love you!" She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as the words escape her lips, laying her heart bare in front of him. The vulnerability and intensity behind her confession hang in the air between them.

He doesn't waste a moment, pulling Y/n inside and pressing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. There's a sense of relief and longing in his touch, the realization that their separation was unbearable for both of them. Y/n clings to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, matching his fervor and intensity.

Charles pulls away just enough to meet Y/n's gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and vulnerability. His voice carries a hint of awe as he continues, "You have no idea how long I've prayed for this moment. That maybe, just maybe, you felt something for me too."

His confession hangs in the air, the sincerity in his tone washing over Y/n like a wave of emotions.

Y/n's heart swells with a rush of emotions as Charles's words sink in. The longing she had tried to deny was mirrored in his own confession.

"I prayed for this too," she admits, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and tenderness. "I didn't realize the extent of my own feelings until the moment we said goodbye. The thought of being apart... it was unbearable. And now, here you are, saying what I've been too afraid to put into words."

Charles leans in for another lingering kiss, breaking away just long enough to ask, "Can you stay the night? I don't want to be apart from you any longer. Please." His voice is filled with a mixture of tenderness and longing, silently pleading for a positive response.

Y/n smiles, her heart filled with warmth and anticipation. "Yes," she whispers, the words barely above a breath as her lips brush against his. "I'll stay the night. Nothing would make me happier than being with you, right here, right now."

He gently pulls Y/n towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers as they make their way through the apartment. Once inside, he locks the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world.

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