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harryspet · 5 months ago

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well kept [3] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think! Thank you so much for all the feedback so far :)

word count: 4.5k

In which it's your first day working from home with Rafe and you have a new lesson to learn.

well kept masterlist

The Cameron residence was fifteen minutes outside of downtown Charlotte and situated in a large neighborhood where hills and huge oak trees hid all the houses. You didn’t really see his house, only what you could tell was large pond, until the driver was at the end of the mile-long driveway. When you did, you felt woefully underdressed. Assuming that being inside all day meant you could opt for something casual, you’d chosen a cream knit dress.

Following Rafe’s instructions, you sent him photos of each outfit you tried on, but he hadn’t told you which ones you could return. It was another blow to your confidence. You began to doubt whether he’d even been serious, but the fear that he might mention it the next day kept you from taking any chances.

Stepping out of the black Escalade, your eyes widened as you took in the architectural masterpiece before you. The house was a striking blend of traditional and modern styles, with a light-colored exterior contrasted by dark shutters framing the windows. A stone chimney rose from the roof, and the three-car garage with wooden doors added a rustic touch.

After your car drove away, a tall and impeccably dressed staff member named Anthony guided you up the stone-paved driveway. From your cheat sheet, you recalled that he was the House Manager. Rafe required a full team: Anthony, two housekeepers, a private chef, a driver, a gardener, and now you—his personal assistant. The inside of the house was as intimidating as the exterior. The expansive foyer featured high ceilings and a grand staircase that curved up to the second floor. To the left, you caught a glimpse of the formal dining room. Each room you passed was more impressive than the last. Anthony informed you that there were six bedrooms and eight bathrooms.

“I don’t usually work on Fridays but Mr. Cameron wanted me to give you a tour of the house and show you the ropes of house management. It’ll be important for you to be able to oversee the staff when I’m absent and understand the scheduling.”

Once again, it was all too much to take in. Today was your fifth day working for Rafe, and you’d barely survived until now.

“I want to clarify that what happened yesterday stays between us. That includes Eleanor. Okay?”

That was all he said about his outburst. There was no apology for groping you, for pinning you down on his office couch, or for taking your virginity. If you were to tell the story, you’d have to mention how your body had betrayed you—not once, but twice. But you had said no. You didn’t want to use the word that described what happened to you. You didn’t want to think about it at all.

And it didn’t happen again—not over the next three days. He continued to be harsh, forcing you to apologize for every small mistake, even those you weren’t aware of.

As you followed Anthony through the expansive kitchen, you couldn't help but marvel at its sheer size and sophistication. The kitchen was a chef's dream, with gleaming marble countertops that seemed to stretch endlessly, state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, and custom cabinetry in a rich, dark wood finish. An oversized island dominated the center of the room.

At the far end of the kitchen, massive glass-paneled doors stood, offering a glimpse of the world beyond. The porch was furnished with elegant wicker seating with plush cushions. The space was perfect for elegant parties, with enough room to accommodate at least a dozen guests.

Beyond the porch was a stunning infinity pool stretched out towards the horizon. As you walked closer, to the right, you took notice of a garden. You spotted the gardener, Tyler, who Anthony had mentioned earlier. In simple clothes, the young man blended easily into the scenery.

“This is where Mr. Cameron will typically entertain his guests,” Anthony said,

The beauty of the outdoor space was undeniable, but so was the control that permeated every aspect of it. You wondered what hand Rafe played in how spotless it looked. You could almost picture him, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing with a harsh intensity, if even the smallest detail were out of place. It was easy to imagine him demanding that every leaf, every petal, every stone be exactly where it belonged.

Did his staff ever make mistakes? Did he make them beg him forgiveness like he did with you?

“Shall I show you the study? It’s approaching seven-thirty.”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. He was kind but part of you didn’t want him to hear your voice shake or your face contort into an uncomfortable position as you struggled to get your words out.

There would be enough struggling today, you knew that.

Surprisingly, Rafe’s home office was more quaint than you expected. Dark wood panneling decorated the walls as well as floor-to-celing bookshelves. As you made your way around the room, you took note of the picture frames containing images of what you believed to be his family. Here, it seemed he had a heart. The four of them stood on a dock, sun shining down, and his arms were wrapped a young girl with dark brown hair. His smile was genuine and there was darkness lingering in the blues of his eyes.

Other than the bookshelves, the room only contained his desk, a set of leather couches and a coffee table. The smaller room still managed to exude sophistication but it was far less imposing than you expected.

The room almost felt intimate as sunlight trickled in through light colored curtains. You were standing behind his desk, glancing out his office window which faced towards the nearby pond. Beside it, sat a gazebo, although you couldn’t imagine Rafe enjoying it. You wondered if he lived here alone as you saw no traces of the other three people in his family photo.

“Boo,” You yelped as you heard Rafe’s deep voice.

You placed a hand over your beating heart as you looked toward where he stood in the doorway. Having been deep in thought, you hadn’t heard the door opened. He knew that much which explained the amused look in his eye.

Everything flooded back at the sight of him. The air had already left your lungs. You felt his body pressing down on yours, warm breath against your ears, and that pain between your legs.

The door clicked shut, making you flinch.

“Good morning,” he said, his gaze fixed on you.

It hit you then, you hadn’t greeted him like you were supposed to.

You were taken aback by his appearance. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a plain navy t-shirt, a stark contrast to your heels and carefully applied makeup. You weren’t sure why you were expected to dress up, especially when he looked so casual.

“G-Good morning, Sir,” You crossed the room, his eyes locked on yours. You remembered where he liked you, near the door, ready to greet him and present yourself to him. You hated how your voice always betrayed you, how weak it made you sound. Your only saving grace was that you’d already memorized his schedule for the day, having spent the entire commute looking at your laptop. You recited it to him, including the midday Zoom call he had with Kelce and Topper.

Topper, you had learned, was Eleanor’s husband. Rafe hadn’t ever touched her but the way Eleanor always answered your questions with vague responses made you suspect that her relationship with Topper mirrored your own with Rafe. She hadn’t warned you but now you were suspecting that was because Rafe seemed to always get what he wanted, no matter who got hurt in the process.

You froze the moment his hand reached out to touch you. His fingers curled around your side, hovering just above your stomach but dangerously close to your breasts. His grip was surprisingly gentle as his thumb grazed over the fabric of your dress. You stiffened as his other hand mirrored the first, sliding across to the opposite side of your body. “Eleanor picked this,” he murmured, his brows knitting together as his gaze slowly traveled down your figure. A jolt shot through you as his thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a wave of panic coursing through you.

“Y-You don’t like it?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He clicked his tongue, “Turn around for me.”

You did as he said, “Doesn’t do enough for your figure,” Your heart panged in your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious of your own shape, “Are you wearing the panties I sent you?”

All you could do was nod. Rafe never commanded you to wear the panties everyday to work but you didn’t risk it. Luckily, they were all comfortable despite the lace and cheekiness.

“Pull up your dress,” He said next.

You’d spent the last three days in a fog, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to understand why your body betrayed you. When you were younger, you always asked the universe why you couldn’t speak like the way all your friends at school did. Now you asked the universe why Rafe’s voice made you want to clench your thighs together. Why you had felt empty ever since he’d finished inside of you. Why you wanted to try again, to experience that intimacy again without so much fear. Your life was so simple before but now it felt like it was too late to turn back.

Your thoughts were too jumbled. Rafe cleared his throat and you realized you were just staring back, “I’m not gonna fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Please-”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me ask again.”

You squared your shoulders. “I’m nnn-nn-not comfortable—”

“Just do it.”

You reached down to the edges of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric to your waist. It was nothing he hadn’t already seen and yet you were shaking, “Turn around. Face the other way.” Like a robot, you obeyed. You’d chosen a light pink color today.

“Good,” You felt him against you. He pulled your hair back over your shoulder and leaned down against your ear, “Maybe I should make you walk around naked while you’re here, hmm?”

You bit down on your lip, wanting to contain the protest that was about to leave your mouth. You wanted to lean into his touch, to embrace the comfort that would accompany the torture. He brushed past you just as you tilted your head back, “Go make me a coffee,” He commanded.

He made his way behind his desk and you reached down to move your dress, “Did I say to pull your dress down?”

“N-No, Sir,” You moved your hands quickly to your sides.

“I could make you walk around like that, couldn’t I?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

He tilted his head and you realized you needed to answer. You gave him a painful look. You could say no but what would it cost you, “I . . . I don’t know,” He wasn’t satisfied by your answer, clearly. It was torture to force the words out, “Y-Yes.”

“Right answer,” He said, “Pull down your dress, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but see the irony in the fact that despite that you upgraded to a salaried job, you were still making coffee for the rich and spoiled. The opulent kitchen had an even fancier coffee machine than his office. Your movements as you prepared his steaming mug of coffee were precise despite the turmoil in your mind.

Searching for solutions, your mind landed on the idea of trying to assert your competence. Sure, you could make a great cup of coffee but the whole point of getting a real job was so that you could have real skills to market yourself. You could be perfect at this job, anticipate his every need, and you could more than an object to look at.

You re-entered his office quietly after realizing he’d begun his first meeting of the day. Carefully, you set his coffee down on the edge of his desk. He was always so intense, so completely absorbed in his work, and that unwavering focus made you even more anxious. Maybe that’s how you should be, more composed, projecting an air of confidence.

Unsure of where you should settle, you made yourself comfortable on one of the leather couches. You checked your email on your laptop, finding several reminders from Eleanor. You found yourself frustrated by how she picked and chose what information to share with you but you balanced those feelings with the fact that she was often your saving grace.

She gave you a list of tasks including arranging for a delivery of documents that needed to be signed by Rafe, confirming his dinner reservations for the night, and proofreading the notes you took from yesterday’s meetings. You told yourself by the end of the next week, you’d be able to handle things by yourself, and you wouldn’t have to lean on her so much. You’d have a day, eventually, where Rafe didn’t point out anything you did wrong.

“I was thinking-” Rafe’s voice cut through the silence. You were so focused that you hand’t realized his meeting had ended. He folded his hands over each other, his eyes on you, “From now on, I want you to wear what I pick for you each day.”

“How …y-you’re not happy with what I’ve been choosing?”

“It’s not about not being happy. Now I have more of an idea of what I like on you,” His voice was smooth and authoritative, “You want to reflect my taste, my standards, yeah?”

You mustered the courage to ask your next question, “Can I-I dress a l-little less … formally when I work at home with you?”

“Less formally?” He tasted the words on his tongue, “You mean, like more casual?”

“Yes, Sss-sir. Like more comfortable.”

“We could experiment with that,” His tone was deceptively light, “On my terms though. Yeah?”

You nodded and were grateful that he hadn’t reacted lightly. He seemed to enjoy that you were asking him for permission.

“You’ll have to wear something different tonight though, for dinner. Eleanor is coming by towards the end of the day to bring you your outfit and take you to get your nails done.”

“Oh,” Your eyes opened wide, “I-I thh-thhought it was more of a personal-”

“I won’t keep you out forever,” He said, “You got plans or something?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, Sir.”

Rafe worked through lunchtime, so you brought him the meal prepared by his chef, Stevie—an elegant older woman with blonde hair. She had made a pesto pasta salad that looked like it belonged in a gourmet magazine, despite your protests and insistence on eating your own packed lunch. Only after delivering the meal did Rafe grant you permission to take your break elsewhere.

You settled on the outdoor patio by the pool, enjoying the peacefulness of the space despite the distant, steady hum of a lawnmower. For a moment, you didn’t feel out of place. Your dress, though apparently unflattering to your figure, was worth a small fortune, and the gourmet lunch you were now enjoying was a far cry from the PB&J you’d packed.

Thirty minutes later, after finishing your lunch and enjoying a lengthy chat with Stevie, you reluctantly headed back upstairs. Hearing Rafe still on the phone, you decided to explore a bit more. His office was situated in the private wing of his house, and as you meandered through opulent corridors, you couldn’t resist sneaking a glance into the master bedroom. It was cozier than you had anticipated, with tall gray walls that gave it a masculine feel and a plush bed draped in navy linen blanket that created a snug, cocoon-like atmosphere.

Rafe ended his call a minute later and the afternoon wore on. You settled into a rhythm, completing the various tasks that you’d added to your own to do lists and ones he’d assigned to you. You spent some time organizing files in his office. His gaze burned into you, even more when you were turned around, and surprisingly, you were starting to get used to that unnerving feeling.

He waited for you to make a mistake but you used a hundred-percent of your effort to make sure that didn’t happen.

The clock inched towards the evening, and the day grew even more quieter, more intimate. “I was looking over your notes from yesterday’s meeting with the board members. I highlighted some sections for you to read back to me,” He waved you over, his voice gruff after a long day of talking. You joined him behind his desk and you moved to lean over and get closer look, but he placed a hand on your hip. The gesture was firm, possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. With effortless strength, like a wolf guiding its prey, he maneuvered you onto his lap, settling you on his thigh. You felt the power in his grip, the unspoken control, and all you could do was comply.

“Rafe–” You started, an desperate attempt at a protest.

“Start with the first section,” He commanded, his grip tightening.

“I’ve been working on proofreading them–”

“Sweetheart,” He warned, not needing to add that you were making him angry. You could feel it, the heat coming off of him.

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to read each sentence. Even if you didn’t have a sentence with a small typo, you still stammered over several of your words. He slid the chair closer to the desk and you yelped.

“See right here,” He pointed to the screen but that only pressed him into you. You breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate, “This whole section needs more detail. I don’t want to have to ask more information.”

You were taken aback when Rafe actually began to instruct you on what you were meant to do. He spent at least ten minutes walking you through each sentence, explaining how to word your report, and deleted all the unnecessary details you added. He was surprisingly patient.

“Now, your turn,” he said finally, leaning back in the chair. For a moment, you thought he was letting you up, but the pressure of his hand on your waist told you otherwise. “Fix it.”

You swallowed, hesitating as your fingers hovered over the keys. Ever keystroke was amplified in the quiet room. Doing your best to actually use your brain, you carefully made the changes he suggested. He watched you closely, his hands first placed on your hips but soon one wandered between your thighs.

“Good,” He said. You could do it again, you thought, and not be so scared. His touch was teasing, a reminder of what he could do to you, all the pressure that built inside of you a spilled over. You could impress him, you could be beautiful, and not turn into a crying mess when he was inside of you. You could be more than a fragile thing to be broken.

Each word was a small victory. It was a battle you thought you could win until his fingers slipped inside your panties and his other hand grabbed a handful of one of your breasts. It was unbearable, and as he made small circles, you found your fingers slipping clumsily over the keys.

You pressed your palms into his desk, your body tilting forward. A frustrated sigh left your lips, you couldn’t contain it, and Rafe’s chuckle rumbled from behind you, “Do you ever touch yourself like this? Be honest with me this time.”

“Y-Yes,” You whispered.

“How do you do it?” He pulled you away from the desk, pulling your torso against his, “You use a toy?”

“J-Just my fff-fingers,” You admitted.��

“Like this? How do you like it?” Carefully, he switched between different approaches. He rubbed circles over your clit, smaller ones and then slower, bigger ones. Then he stroked you up and down, fingers slipping easily into your warm hole as he wandered lower, “You put those little fingers inside of you?”

“Rafe, please.”

“Tell me,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Or I’ll stop.”

"I-I don't usually put them inside… ," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I always use my pillow…”

He hummed against your ear. "See how much better this is when you cooperate? You can be such a good little assistant when you try."

You nodded, unable to speak, and let the feeling consume you. He brought you right to the edge, you were seconds away coming undone, but his movements slowed. Before you could register the feeling as disappointment, Rafe was hoisting you off of his lap.

Moving with sudden determination, your feet were suddenly off the ground and Rafe was carrying you out of the room in his strong arms, “Rafe!” You clutched his shoulders as he carried you down the hall.

You turned your head as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, the heavy thud of the door slamming shut reverberating through the room. With a swift motion, he laid you gently on the bed. The softness beneath you was just as you had imagined, but the thought barely registered. You shot him an incredulous look, your face flushed with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He leaned over you, grabbing a pillow from behind you and placing it in front of you, “Show me.”

You shook your head instantly and moved to crawl away. Somehow, you could let all of his other sleazy behavior slide by but this was an insane boundary for him to try to cross. He’d already been inside you and yet this was a thousand times more intimate.

He grabbed ahold of your thigh, “You’re so close, sweetheart. I know you want it,” He challenged you, “Probably feels like you need it.”

“Please,” You tried, your voice threatening to crack. His hands found your hips again, slowly positionin you over the pillow. The soft fabric brushed against your most sensitive spot, the familiar sensation making you bite down on your bottom lip, “Rafe.”

“You saying my name like that just makes me want it more,” Balancing on his knees, he grabbed ahold of your face and leaned in to kiss you. You felt the intensity of his desire, how much he wanted this, and it left you dizzy.

When he pulled back, he looked over you. Your hips started moving in a familiar motion despite your embarrassment. You trembled from the vulnerability, the pounding in your chest, but you chased that high he gave you. It ignited your fire again, and since you didn’t have the full force of his touch anymore, you focused your eyes on him, “Good girl,” He said again and you whimpered, “Look at me just like that.”

You rolled your hips harder, faster, imagining his kiss, his touch, as the tension coiled tighter inside you. His gaze never left yours, his words a constant stream of encouragement and control.

“Doesn’t that feel good?”

His words all jumbled together.

“Just let it happen.”

“I want to see your face when you cum, sweetheart.”

“You look so desperate.”

“So needy.”

“You’re gonna make yourself cum, huh?”

“Just because I told you too.”

“Such a good girl.”

“Look at you.”

The words pushed you over the edge, finally, and you were able to let go. He watched as you rode out that wave of pleasure and his hands found your body again, his grip grounding you. “Fuck,” You heard him say but you couldn’t respond.

You were too overwhelmed to respond, your mind unable to fully process what had just happened. All you knew was that you felt good, embarrassed, and strangely satisfied that you'd pleased him, all at once.

When you manage to look at him again, the doorbell rang.

Eleanor navigated through the upscale nail salon, a palace of white and silvers, with ease, like she was a regular, and this was just an extension of her universe. You imagined this place as an escape for her, from both Rafe and Topper. She secured side-by-side seats near the back of the salon and you followed her lead as she set down her purse and removed her sandals. Her movements were fluid and assured.

“Have you thought about what color you want?”

“Oh, um, n-no,” You tried to make yourself comfortable in the pedicure chair, “What d-do you think Rafe would like?”

“Maybe something pastel. You can’t go wrong with a soft pink.”

“Is that what you’re getting?” You asked, unassured, as you glanced around the luxurious setting. It wasns’t like other nail salons you’d been to where the technicians and customers talked at whatever volume they liked. It was quiet and each technician wore matching black uniforms.

“I’ll tell them you want ballet slipper on your nails and white on your toes.”

You nodded, grateful for her guidance, “Thank you.”

As your pedicures began, the warm lavender-scented water soaking your feet, two technicians took their places by your sides, working silently as they filed your nails.

“How are you holding up?” Eleanor asked.

“Fff-fine,” You said, “I’m trying to . . . t-to understand him, I guess.”

“You’ll go crazy doing that,” She laughed lightly, flashing a look that said “poor you”.

“How d-did you meet Topper?” Her face tightened at your question, “I mean, y-you didn’t say.”

“I’m from the same town as them, Rafe and Topper. Not really the same town, my parents didn’t have money growing up. But I worked at the country club they all went to. That’s how I met Topper.”

“And you started dating?”

“Something like that,” She made a small shrug, “I owe everything I have to them.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of her words despite the lack of detail. Another piece to the puzzle you were trying to put together. Maybe the two of them had an attraction to girls struggling to get by.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” She asked and it made you pause.

Your instinct was to mirror her shrug, but you hesitated, wondering if you could trust her with your thoughts. If anyone could understand what you were going through, it had to be Eleanor. “I-I just ffff-ffeel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only heard good things.”

“A-About me?” She nodded and your lips parted in shock.

“Yes. I know you feel uncertain right now, but I think you'll be glad if you can stick it out. Topper… he’s a bastard, but he takes care of me. Rafe likes you too. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it, but…” She paused, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “He’s filthy rich. That would be enough for me.”

In that moment, her brutal honesty felt almost like reassurance. You weren’t sure if Eleanor truly grasped the extent of Rafe’s inability to show affection, that his pleasure came from humiliating you, from making you cry. Just as you couldn’t fully know what she endured with Topper. Her words weren't necessarily comforting but at least they felt real.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

#dark fic #well kept #rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #outer banks smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #topper thornton #billionaire au #billionaire!rafe #ceo au

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gothcsz · 1 month ago

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𝐈𝐈𝐈 | Marcus Acacius x Fem!Reader x Lucius Verus Aurelius | ~13k wc (woops) | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Lucius Aurelius, the stepson of wealthy and renowned architect Marcus Acacius, falls in love with you, Marcus's personal assistant. However, you're already in the midst of a tangled affair with his stepfather. (based on)

Tags: modern!au, family drama, they're both arrogant architects with egos out of this world, reasonable age gap between marcus and reader, infidelity (sorry lucilla), porn with plot, dirty talk, degradation (slut, whore), spanking, oral (f&m receiving), facial, unprotected p in v sex (this is fiction be smart irl), anal, spit as lube, cum eating, creampie kink, baby's first mmf threesome, double penetration, jealousy!, possessiveness!, but the boys are learning how to share, everyone is kind of shitty, some latin (carissime/dear, praecantrix/enchantress, dulcissima/sweetest), no use of y/n, reader has long hair, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: i sense a pattern occurring with this specific pairing and i ain't mad at it! ridley scott knew what he was doing when casting these two hunks. this is for my love @almostempty, always on the frontlines of the threesome fic movement 🫡 okay, i hope you all enjoy reading and let ya girl know what you think 🖤

Marcus’s lips curl into a slow, smug smile as he watches you. “Come on, my carissime,” he murmurs, a gravelly caress against your heated skin. “You can do better than that. I know you can.” His large hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to make your scalp tingle.

He brushes the stray strands from your face, his touch tender despite the edge of authority in his tone. He wants to see you—wants to savor the way your lips stretch around the thick girth of his cock, the way your cheeks hollow as you struggle to take more of him.

Drool drips from the corner of your mouth, and your eyes flutter upward, catching his smoldering gaze. His golden flecked eyes darken as he drinks you in, and you can’t help but admire him from your position between his powerful thighs.

The streaks of silver weaving through his dark brown curls and beard catch the light, a testament to his age and masculinity.

His chiseled features, strong and weathered, are the kind you’ve explored endlessly—memorizing every dip and ridge with your lips and fingertips.

Marcus is more than handsome; he’s devastating, a man aging like fine wine—complex, intoxicating, and wholly addictive.

He’s right, of course. You can do better. You’ve done better. But Marcus’s cock always demands a moment of adjustment, a slow surrender to its sheer size and delicious thickness. It’s a challenge you relish, evidence of your enthusiasm to satisfy.

Pulling off him with a gasp, you let your hand slide up his spit slick shaft, jerking him with gentle pressure. A web of saliva bridges your lips to his flushed, throbbing cock, and you purse your lips, spitting onto him, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room.

Marcus watches you, his lips quirking into a crooked smirk, pride and desire flickering across his sharp features.

“Look at you,” he praises, his thumb brushing along the corner of your mouth, wiping away a strand of drool that’s smudged your lipstick, dragging it across your cheek.

The adoration of the gesture is at odds with the thirst in his eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust as he takes in the way you work for him. “Messy little thing. You love this, don’t you?”

Your answer comes in the form of a teasing smirk, your tongue darting out to swipe at his head. The salty tang of his precum dances on your taste buds, and you slap his cock against the pink muscle, the soft thud making you dizzy.

Your lips then glide over the pulsating, veined flesh of his cock and the weight of him on your tongue sends a deep pulse of heat straight to your cunt. It has you shifting slightly on your knees, your own arousal dampening the thin fabric of your panties, making you crave friction, relief—anything.

But you know better than to touch yourself without his permission. Marcus thrives on control, his mastery over your pleasure woven into every fiber of his devotion to you.

So though the temptation to sneak a hand down to your needy clit is overwhelming, you revel in the sweet agony of denial, knowing he’ll make the eventual release all the more shattering.

His fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just enough to elicit a muffled moan. The sound vibrates around him, making his cock twitch as you hollow your cheeks again and draw a deep breath through your nose.

Inch by inch, you let him slide deeper, the bulbous tip nudging your uvula, tears pooling in your eyes, the tip of your nose brushing against the coarse hairs at his base.

“Such a praecantrix,” Marcus growls, the Latin rolling off his tongue with an edge of mockery. You love when he speaks to you in the dead language, a relic of his fascination with ancient Roman culture. It feels intimate, and you savor the way he wields it like a weapon meant only for you.

He’s told you as much—that this language, with all its history, is yours alone.

“So eager to fall to your knees and please a married man. That’s my favorite thing about you, sweetheart. Such a dirty fucking slut.”

The degradation spills over you like molten heat, pooling low in your belly. It’s cruel and intoxicating, and it makes your pussy ache with a mix of shame and desire.

You choke on him, the stretch of his cock testing the limits of your throat, but you don’t pull back. He loves the power, the control, the sight of you struggling yet determined to take everything he gives.

Whether it’s your mouth, your cunt, or on those nights when he’s feeling particularly depraved, your ass—he relishes pushing you to the brink and watching you rise to meet him.

And so what if he’s married? You’ve justified it a hundred times over in your head. His wife should’ve done a better job keeping him satisfied. She shouldn’t have let a man like him go hungry, his appetite desires more than what’s waiting for him at home, which left him roaming, seeking out someone—you—to feed his ravenous needs.

If she couldn’t keep him, that’s not your problem. You didn’t steal him; he came willingly, like a moth to your flame.

You know your role as the other woman. You play it well. During the day, you’re his personal assistant: poised, professional, efficient. You keep his schedule flawless, his coffee perfect, and your interactions just cool enough to deflect suspicion.

But here, in moments like this—when his cock fills your greedy mouth and his filthy words drip into your ears—you’re anything but restrained. You’re his, entirely, bending to his every whim, doing whatever it takes to please him.

No love bites are left where she might see. No lingering perfume to betray you, no smudged lipstick to stain his crisp, tailored shirts. You stay in your lane, as he expects of you, and in return, Marcus makes you feel like an empress—his empress, even if it’s only in secret.

The thrill of being his secret indulgence, his escape, burns hotter than any guilt you once felt. The wrongness of it, the illicit danger of fucking another woman’s husband, only fuels the lustful fire.

You know you shouldn’t. You’ve tried to stop.

The one and only time you tried to end it, it lasted a pathetic seven days. This so-called breakup was spurred on by a friend’s misguided advice.

So, you’d sat him down over a quiet dinner in one of your usual haunts, a restaurant miles away where no one could recognize you, your stomach twisting as you broke the news.

Marcus’s reaction had been icy, his fury masked by a veneer of composure that was somehow worse than an outburst.

The wrinkles on his handsome face deepend before he stood abruptly, throwing down enough cash to cover the bill without a word, leaving you alone to call an Uber, tears dampening your cheeks as you wondered if you’d just lost your job, your lover—or both.

The following days were a cold war. At work, he was stoic and distant, his orders sharp, his reprimands cutting. He barely looked at you, and when he did, his gaze was devoid of the heat you’d grown addicted to. The sting of it was worse than you’d anticipated.

You hated it. You hated yourself for hating it, for craving the attention of a man who wasn’t yours to begin with.

Then, on the eighth day, Marcus snapped. It was late, the floor empty except for you, hunched over your computer. He appeared without warning, dragging you into his office, closing the door with a sharp click.

Before you could speak, he was on you, his hands gripping your hips, his body pinning yours against the cool glass window that overlooked the city.

“You thought you could walk away from me?” His voice was a low growl, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re fucking stupid if you think I’d let my favorite pussy go without putting up a fight.”

That night, he took you hard and fast, his words filthier than ever, his grip bruising and possessive. He made it clear that you weren’t going anywhere—not unless he said so.

And no, he wouldn’t leave her for you. He’d told you as much, his tone unapologetic, almost cruel. But that didn’t matter, not when he was deliciously buried inside your pussy, making you scream his name against the glass.

Now, here you are again—on your knees, his cock filling your throat, his hands tangled in your hair as he reminds you, with every vulgar word, exactly where you belong.

You bring your hand up to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm as you keep up your rhythm, your other hand gripping the base of his cock to keep him steady.

The combination draws a sharp hiss from him, and his grip in your hair tightens, holding you in place when his hips start to move in earnest thrusts that force him deeper into your throat as he uses you for his pleasure.

You surrender completely, your body alive with need and your heart racing in sync with his labored breaths.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come,” he warns, his head tipping back against the leather of his chair. The deep timbre of his voice resonates through you. “You want it, don’t you? My good girl wants every fucking drop.”

Your answer comes in the form of a pornographic moan, your nails digging into his meaty thigh as you nod.

A dull ache spreads across your jaw as you work over his cock, bobbing eagerly, losing yourself in the head you’re giving.

You feel the familiar tightening of his balls, the telltale sign that he’s close, and it spurs you on. Your rhythm grows more frantic, more desperate, sloppy; your lips glossy with saliva as you pop him out of your mouth to lavish attention on his cockhead. You tease the sensitive ridge of his frenulum with slow, deliberate licks, kissing and sucking, worshipping this unit of a man above you.

The muscles of his thighs flex beneath your hands, his body trembling with restrained power.

Marcus’s growl deepens and he quickly pulls you off his cock. The sharp tug makes you moan, your neck arching gracefully, putting you on display for him like a prized possession.

He stands, towering over you, his broad shoulders and commanding presence casting a shadow that feels consuming. His dark brown eyes bore into yours, appetence and dominance swirling within them.

You stare at him from your position on your knees, swollen lips parted, spit and precum gleaming on your mouth and chin.

Your breaths come shallow and quick; you know what he wants, so you begin to jerk his cock with both of your fists, twisting your wrists with a skill honed from all the times you’ve gotten him off like this, the wet and lewd sounds of your action having you moan slightly and his grip on your hair tightens.

“Just like that, carissima, milk my cock.”

He comes with a guttural groan, his head thrown back, Adam’s apple bobbing, and you gasp as thick ropes of his release paint your face, splattering across your cheeks, your lips, even your lashes.

You instinctively dart your tongue out, catching the salty taste of him, savoring his essence as though it were nectar from your favorite fruit, giggling softly.

The sight of you, defiled and glowing with satisfaction, makes his hips jerk forward involuntarily, a man undone.

You stroke him through the aftershocks, his cock softening in your hands as you lean into his touch. His grip on your hair loosens, his large fingers threading through it more gently now, brushing it away from your face as he admires his work.

“What a sight, so beautiful on your knees like this, covered in my cum.” Marcus muses, his voice hoarse as his chest heaves. He swipes through the mess on your face, collecting his spend before pressing his fingers into your mouth. You hum, sucking them clean with the same devotion you’ve given his cock.

The taste of him, warm and heady, sends a thrill down your spine.

When he offers you his hand to help you up, you accept it, your knees stiff and aching from kneeling on the rug beneath his desk.

“Your son will be here—” you start, your tone shifting back to professional, delivering the message you initially came in here for before getting… distracted.

“He is not my son,” Marcus snaps, the venom in his voice cutting through the room. He’s buckling his belt with sharp motions, his jaw clenched so tight you can practically hear his teeth grinding.

You don’t flinch—it’s not the first time you’ve seen his temper flare when his stepson is mentioned, and it won’t be the last. Instead, you adjust your tone, correcting yourself smoothly. “Lucius will be here within the hour to discuss the Anderson project.”

You smooth down your work pants, fingers brushing against the creases, and glance into the reflective surface of the nearby cabinet. You already know a trip to the restroom is in order to fix the telltale signs of his rough affection—your swollen lips, disheveled hair, the smudge of mascara beneath your eyes.

Marcus doesn’t respond right away, but the scowl on his face deepens, his broad shoulders rigid as he adjusts the cuffs of his shirt.

The tension between Marcus and Lucius is legendary, an animosity born out of years of neglect, betrayal, and a battle for control over the Aurelius family legacy.

Marcus makes no effort to mask his disdain for his stepson, and Lucius returns the sentiment with equal fervor. Their interactions are charged, each conversation laced with thinly veiled insults and simmering resentment.

Lucius’s childhood, from what you’ve gathered, had been a mess of abandonment and rebellion. Shipped off to boarding schools before he hit puberty, a move orchestrated by his mother, who, by all accounts, seemed eager to rid herself of the burden of raising a troublesome son.

The expulsions came next, one after the other, as Lucius acted out, a desperate bid for his mother’s attention. It never worked. She was too preoccupied with the luxuries of high society to care. Especially not after she married Marcus and skipped her son’s college graduation altogether, solidifying a wedge between them that even time couldn’t mend.

Years later, Lucius had returned with a vengeance, polished and poised, armed with degrees and accolades in both architecture and engineering.

He was ready to reclaim what his grandfather left behind—what Marcus had taken over when he married into the family.

Lucius wasn’t content to sit on the sidelines. He had marched in and demanded his rightful place—a share in the architectural firm that had been in his family for generations.

You remember that day vividly, the drama unfolding like a soap opera in real-time in the conference room as lawyers from both sides tried to hammer out the details.

Lucius had made it clear that he wasn’t asking for permission—he was taking what was his. Marcus, in contrast, was a picture of barely restrained fury, his fists clenched on the table, his voice cold as he tried to shut his stepson down.

But the younger man didn’t retract, and by the end of the meeting, he had secured his position as a partner.

For you, the spectacle was captivating, a battleground of egos and legal jargon. Sitting at the edge of the room, your notepad in hand, you watched it all unfold with barely concealed amusement.

If anything, you’d felt a buzz of anticipation, knowing the tension would wind Marcus so tight he’d take it out on you later. The thought had made you giddy, your pen sliding between your lips as you nibbled on it, your tongue swirling absentmindedly.

You couldn’t help but fantasize about what was to come—the sharp crack of Marcus’ palm against your ass, the growl in his voice as he delivered brutal backshots.

What you hadn’t noticed at the time was Lucius’s gaze on you. Those icy eyes of his watching every flick of your tongue, every scrape of your teeth against the pen.

“Very well,” Marcus says finally, dismissing the topic with a wave of his hand. “Send him in when he arrives.”

As you turn to leave, his hand shoots out, catching you by the elbow. He pulls you close, his body radiating heat against yours. His thumb swipes over your swollen bottom lip before pressing into your mouth, forcing it open.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what I owe you, dulcissima,” he murmurs, all dark and seductive. “I’ll take good care of you later tonight. Midnight. Our room.”

The promise in his tone sends excitement through your veins, your thighs pressing together instinctively.

As you start to nod, your mind remembers one tiny detail from his schedule. “You have dinner reservations with Lucil—” you begin, her name barely leaving your lips before his thumb presses down harder, silencing you with a whimper.

“Don’t say her name,” his eyes narrow, daring you to defy him, “and don’t you worry about that. I’ll be with you. Midnight.”

Midnight. Our room—a luxury suite in one of the hotels he designed, cloaked in opulence and secrecy. It’s where he comes to you after being with her, and sometimes, where he leaves you to go back to her.

The sting of it is subtle now, dulled by repetition. You’ve taught yourself not to dwell on the fact that his hands on you tonight might still carry the scent of her.

You try not to wonder if he kisses her the way he kisses you, if he whispers sweet nothings in her ear the same way he does when he’s buried inside you.

You don’t want to know. It’s easier to exist in this bubble of ignorance where you can pretend you’re the only one who matters.

Instead, you nod obediently, giving in to the charade you’ve chosen. The playful edge returns, and you bite down lightly on his thumb, your teeth grazing the skin in a way that has his lips twitching into a smirk.

Marcus leans in to press his lips against yours passionately, how you like it, lingering just long enough to make your heart ache. It’s maddening how he kisses you—like he means it, like he loves you.

And maybe, in his own twisted way, he does.

You sit behind your desk, eyes averted as she lounges in the small sitting area, waiting for him to finish his meeting.

She’s here to capture Marcus’s attention. It’s a game you’ve grown accustomed to—her attempts to reclaim parts of him she craves—the passion, the primal connection—all things he reserves for you.

And as petty as it is, part of you revels in knowing how little he gives her. What’s left of his affection after he’s spent it all on you is scraps at best.

She may have his last name, his ring, the sprawling mansion he designed and built for her, but none of it holds a candle to the way he devours you in the secrecy of your shared nights.

The door to his office creaks open, and Marcus steps out, his brow furrowed in the perpetual scowl he wears like armor.

She rises from the loveseat, moving to him as though pulled by an invisible string. Their embrace is brief but intimate enough to make your stomach churn. You keep your focus on the glowing screen of your computer, scrolling through emails that blur together as you strain to block out their presence.

Smug satisfaction only goes so far, and the familiar pang of jealousy gnaws at the edges of your confidence.

Their conversation floats toward you: lunch at the country club, a round of golf, insular activities that reek of old money and class—worlds you’ve only glimpsed from behind the scenes, arranging his reservations, managing his calendar, ensuring his whims are catered to.

You expect him to brush her off, as he often does, leaving her deflated while he buries himself in work—or in you.

But he doesn’t.

“Clear my schedule for the day and remain on standby in case anything should arise.”

His indifference lands like a slap. You glance up briefly, meeting his gaze, and catch the slight twitch of amusement tugging at his lips before leaning in to kiss her.

He’s enjoying this, you realize. Playing you, toying with your jealousy, rubbing it in just enough to sting.

He knows you can see the way he openly parades her, the casual ease with which he can show her off to the world while you’re relegated to the shadows. Lavish gifts and extravagant outings are hers for the taking, while your rewards are delivered in hushed whispers and midnight rendezvous.

Your smile is syrupy sweet, the kind of false cheer that could rot teeth. “Of course, sir. Enjoy your day together,” you chirp, each word coated in venom he’ll detect, even if she doesn’t.

Marcus doesn’t spare you another glance as he guides her toward the elevator, his arm snug around her waist.

The pang in your chest tightens, sharper than usual. He’s not usually like this with her—so overt, so public. This new display of affection unsettles you, sends your thoughts spiraling down dark avenues.

Are they mending things? Rekindling their marriage?

A cold panic begins to rise, but you quash it down, clinging to the task at hand. You bury yourself in clearing his schedule, canceling meetings, rearranging appointments.

It’s easier to focus on the practical than to confront the gnawing fear that you might no longer hold the place in his life you once did.

Some time later, the sound of footsteps approaching pulls you from your task, and when you glance up, it’s none other than Lucius stepping into view.

He breezes in like he owns the place—well, technically, part of it is his—and you pause the music playing through your earbuds, slipping one out as he approaches your desk.

“He’s not in,” you inform him, polite but curt. “Won’t be until tomorrow. If it’s urgent, I’m sure you have his personal number.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, instead perching himself on the edge of your desk. His fingers idly play with one of the trinkets decorating your workspace, a polished glass paperweight that catches the light and casts fractured rainbows across his dexterous hands.

You narrow your eyes at his intrusion, taking a moment to really look at him. Where Marcus is the epitome of old-school refinement, pressed suits in muted tones and custom leather shoes, Lucius is his foil.

He’s all rich silken shirts in bold colors, stylish sneakers, and enough jewelry to make him gleam under the office lighting.

Rings adorn on his fingers, chains glint at his neck, and his pierced ears and tattoos add that touch of rebellion he’s infamously known for.

He’s hot, undeniably so, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed before.

There’s always been a charge between the two of you, a flirtatious undercurrent in the way he looks at you, the subtle innuendos in his words.

You’ve never acted on it—how could you, not with a man like Marcus whispering promises of ruin and rapture. Your secret lover waiting behind closed doors.

But today… after the way he flaunted her in front of you, the bitterness curdling in your chest craves a taste of some sort of retaliation. It’s irrational, you know, but something inside you itches.

And maybe, just maybe, Lucius is exactly what you need to scratch that itch.

“Then why are you still here?” He finally speaks, partially amused, as those piercing blue eyes lock onto yours. They’re sharp, assessing, and your cheeks warm slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“A busy man like him has a busy schedule that precedes him,” you reply, keeping your tone professional. “It doesn’t organize itself.”

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smile, one that makes your body hum. “Ah, ever the dutiful assistant. He’s lucky to have someone like you keeping his chaos in check.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalant air, though his attention feels like a spotlight. “It’s what I’m being paid to do.”

He tilts his head, the movement almost predatory, gaze giving you a not so subtle once over. “It must be exhausting, though. All work and no play makes for a dull life. When’s the last time you took a break?”

Your brows pinch together. “Why do you care?”

“Because,” he drawls, leaning closer, his cologne—a mix of citrus and something spicier—hitting your senses, “I don’t think someone as pretty as you should spend her days buried in schedules and emails.”

“Flattery doesn’t work on me.” A damn lie.

“Oh, I’m not trying to flatter you.” He smirks, his confidence maddening. “I’m simply stating a fact.”

Before you can form a retort, he straightens, brushing invisible lint off his shirt. “Join me for lunch,” he says, and it’s not quite a question. “You look like you could use a little indulgence.”

Your brain immediately shouts no, warning you of all the ways this is a terrible idea, but your pride, bruised and still licking its wounds from earlier, nudges you forward.

“Lunch?” you ask, raising a skeptical brow. “You and me?”

“Why not?” he replies, his grin boyish but undeniably charming. “Unless you’ve got a better offer.”

You know agreeing to this is risky, a slippery slope, but thinking of Marcus coming back to find out you’ve been out with his stepson stokes a spark of defiance you can’t quite ignore.

“I don’t. And if you’re paying, there’s this new place I’ve been dying to try,” you’re playful with it, standing and grabbing your bag, ignoring the little voice in your head screaming at you for potentially girlbossing a little too close to the sun. “If this ends up being a waste of time, I’m billing you for the hour.”

Lucius gives you a smug smile, his satisfaction evident as he steps aside to let you pass. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you moan, your breath hitching as your orgasm crests, fingers gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

Between your spread thighs, Lucius works you with his mouth, his tongue sliding through your folds with obscene skill. His strong nose nudges your clit, each brush sparking jolts of pleasure that leave you trembling.

The cold mirror at your back is a sharp contrast to the heat that’s overtaken your entire being, a reminder of where you are—some ritzy bar’s fancy men’s restroom, the door locked behind you.

Lunch had been harmless enough—until it wasn’t. A few drinks at the bar loosened both of your tongues, flirtatious words became heated looks, and before you knew it, Lucius leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “I think we both know how this is going to end.”

You hadn’t argued when he tugged you toward the restroom, your body tingling with the thrill of doing something so reckless, so delectably wrong. But that’s kind of what you’re into, isn’t it?

The moment the door clicked shut, his mouth had been on yours, kissing you with a fervor that made you forget about everything.

“Been wanting this for so long,” Lucius mutters now as he pulls back, licking his lips, glistening with your sweet slick. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider as his darkened blue eyes flick up to meet yours. “Not fuckin’ fair that he gets everything.”

You’re too far gone to care about his words, your head lolling back against the mirror as his lips press a trail of kisses up your inner thigh. “Fuck, Lucius,” you pant, your hands reaching for him, needing more. Your fingers find his dark curls, tugging lightly as he stands, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s all heat and desperation.

His tongue slips past your lips, and you moan at the lingering taste of yourself there. Your hand slides down between you, palming the thick length of him through his pants, and he groans into your mouth, his fingers returning to your pussy, teasing your puffy clit until you’re a whimpering mess.

“Are you going to fuck me right here?” you ask breathlessly, biting your lip as you look up at him through heavy lashes.

He groans, his large hand cradling your jaw, tilting your face up to look at him. “What do you think? Turn around.”

He relinquishes his hold on you, stepping back just enough to give you room, and you obey, spinning to face the mirror, your reflection staring back at you. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, and eyes hazy with lust. Behind you, Lucius’s hands are already lifting your skirt, one you’d chosen specifically for Marcus this morning, knowing how much he loves you in pretty, feminine things.

But he had barely spared you a glance before he left with her, and now the thought of him feels distant, unimportant.

He lets out a low whistle, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass, admiring the sight of you bent over for him.

You shut your eyes, willing away any lingering thoughts of Marcus as his fingers trace the slick seam of your pussy before dipping inside, his touch confident and practiced.

“Look at yourself,” he commands, his free hand pressing firmly on the small of your back, arching you further. “Eyes on the mirror.”

Your lashes flutter as you meet your own reflection again. His fingers pick up their pace, his chest brushing against your back as he frees himself from his pants. Your breath catches when you feel the thick head of his cock glide through your folds, replacing his digits at your entrance.

You wag your hips playfully, earning a sharp smack to your ass, the sting blooming with heat, and it makes you giggle, the sound light and sultry.

“Are you always this giddy to get fucked?” Lucius teases, his tone dripping with amusement as he lines himself up.

“Only when it’s someone who knows what they’re doing.”

He laughs, a deep, wicked sound, before gripping your hip with one hand and guiding himself inside you with the other. The stretch is exquisite, stealing the air from your lungs as he sinks into you inch by inch, his girth filling you completely.

He’s not as thick or as large as Marcus, but the way he feels inside you is undeniably satisfying, and judging by the expert way he used his mouth, you’re eager to explore the rest of his talents.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, his head falling forward, his nose nuzzling into your hair. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You cry out, eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the marbled counter as he starts to move with pure vehemence.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, his pace building until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and desperate gasps.

The sight of him fucking you from behind, his mouth agape, brows furrowed, has your pussy clenching around him. His strokes are deep and hard, each one making the edge of the countertop dig into the front your thighs, but you don’t care. It feels too damn good.

The universe has an impeccable way of fucking with you, and it does so spectacularly when your phone buzzes in your purse.

The ringtone you’ve assigned to Marcus echoes through the luxurious restroom, shattering the moment and flooding your veins with icy dread.

“L-Lucius, stop,” you whine, your voice betraying how little you actually mean it. His thrusts are hitting just the right spot, and you can barely think straight, let alone care about the consequences of missing Marcus’s call.

Lucius pauses, though not in the way you hoped—or feared. He slows, grinding himself against you, his length pressing deliciously into your g-spot.

Leaning over your bent form, he rummages through your purse until he retrieves the still-ringing phone. “Go ahead,” he holds the device out to you with a cocky grin. “Answer it. Wouldn’t want to upset the boss, now would we?”

You hesitate, staring at the phone like it’s a ticking bomb.

The position you’re in—physically and metaphorically—feels impossible to navigate. When the ringing threatens to stop, instinct gives way, and you snatch the phone from his hand and answer, pressing it to your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice is shaky, breathless, and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“Where the hell are you?” Marcus’s tone is sharp, tinged with irritation.

Your breath hitches. He’s back at the office? He said he’d be gone all day. Panic bubbles in your chest as Lucius’s hips roll lazily, burying himself deep inside you as if to prove a point, and you fight not to moan.

“I-I went out for lunch and to run a few errands,” you stammer, gripping the counter for dear life. In the mirror, Lucius’s smirk deepens. His hands slide up your body, cupping your breasts over your blouse as he pulls you upright against his chest.

He moves your hair aside and starts placing soft, teasing kisses along your neck, his facial hair grazing your skin and adding to the maddening sensations.

“How long are you going to be?”

“Not much longer,” you manage, biting your lip as Lucius’s fingers find your clit. “Do you… need something?” The slow, torturous circles make your knees buckle, and you have to mute the phone to let out a strangled moan.

“Yes,” Marcus replies, oblivious to your plight. “I need you back here. I ran into a client while I was out, and…”

Whatever else he says fades into static as Lucius speeds up his ministrations, his fingers and cock working in perfect harmony to unravel you. Your free hand flies to his wrist, a silent plea for mercy, but he just grins against your neck.

“Just let me finish this call,” you whisper, your voice desperate and pleading.

“No,” he growls through gritted teeth. “You’re going to come all over my dick while you’re on the phone with him.”

Before you can protest, he presses you back down against the counter, resuming the relentless rhythm that slips a film of haze over your vision. Your hand trembles as you unmute the call, your brain scrambling to form coherent words while Lucius fucks you like he owns you.

“...so get back here to pull the prints,” Marcus finishes.

“Okay,” you rasp, tightly holding the edge of the counter, the sound of skin meeting skin threatening to echo over the line. “I-I’ll be there soon.”

There’s a long pause, and your heart pounds in your chest, more from the overwhelming sensation between your legs than Marcus’s impending suspicion. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you blurt out, squeezing your eyes shut as his fingers press harder against your clit, tipping you dangerously close to the edge. “I—I have to go. I’ll see you at the office.”

Without waiting for a response, you hang up and toss the phone onto the counter.

Finally, you let go, your high pitched moans spilling freely as your orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clamp down around Lucius’s cock, and you throw your hips back to meet his thrusts, chasing every last bit of pleasure.

“Oh fuck me, I’m coming!” you cry out, your voice echoing through the restroom.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he delivers a few final, punishing thrusts. “There we go,” he practically purrs, satisfied.

He pulls out at the last second, stroking himself until his release coats the supple skin of your ass. He exhales sharply, a triumphant grin spreading across his face as he watches you shudder beneath him.

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing. Then, he chuckles, stepping back to grab a few tissues. “You’re a fucking masterpiece,” he murmurs, gently cleaning you up.

You let out a weak laugh, your legs still trembling as you brace yourself against the counter. “That was way too close.”

He shrugs, tucking himself back into his pants and leaning against the sink, watching you fix your skirt and smooth your hair in the mirror. “I don’t really give a shit,” he replies, his tone so nonchalant it borders on arrogance.

“Yeah,” you give him a sidelong glance. “I figured as much.” You straighten your appearance, making sure to fix every little imperfection and evidence of what just transpired.

“When can we do this again?”

You hadn’t thought this far ahead, too caught up in the heat of the moment to consider what might come next. His proposition is tempting, dangerously so, and you hesitate, weighing the risks.

Marcus is married after all, and while he’s never outright told you not to see anyone else (not that you wanted to, either), the possessiveness in the way he fucks you and how he treats you when it was just the two of you makes it clear he wouldn’t be thrilled.

It’s not necessarily the smartest move to hookup with his stepson, considering the messy family history, but that’s really none of your business.

And the alternative? What, meeting some awkward Tinder match with a small cock who can’t get over his ex? No, thanks. You’d pick Lucius any day of the week.

“You tell me,” you concede. What Marcus doesn’t know won’t kill him. “I don’t want Marcus to know about us. He’d pop his lid—and as fun as that would be for you, I don’t need that drama in my life right now.”

He reaches for you, his hand curling around your waist to pull you closer until you’re standing between his legs. His hands rest lightly on your hips, his thumbs brushing the fabric of your skirt. “It shouldn’t be any of his business who you fuck.”

You bite down on your tongue, gently pushing his hair back, running your fingers through the soft curls. “I know, but that man is complicated. You, of all people should know that.”

“Right,” he takes in your features, noting how beautiful you are, getting lost in your eyes. “Doesn’t matter much to me, but for you, we can keep this low-key.”

“I’d appreciate that,” you give him a small smile, leaning forward and brushing your lips softly against his in a kiss that lingers just long enough to make your pulse quicken again.

He grins boastfully as he pulls back, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a small, teasing motion. “Come on, I’ll take you back. We’ve probably hogged the washroom long enough.”

You nod, letting him guide you toward the door, though the weight of your choices lingers. For now, though, you push it all aside. One mess at a time.

Juggling these two men feels like a balancing act you’ve somehow mastered. Each fills a different part of your life, balancing out the deficiencies of the other like two halves of a very complicated equation.

Marcus is raw power, the kind of dominance that leaves your soul humming and your heart racing. He’s harsh, unapologetically entitled, and he takes what he wants with a certainty that has you willingly offering yourself up.

You crave his intensity, the way he makes you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something dangerously exhilarating.

Lucius, though, is the warmth you never knew you needed. He’s attentive in ways Marcus never could be, the type of lover you’d believed only existed in fiction.

He doesn’t just fuck you—he worships you, like you’re the only person in the world when he’s with you. He makes you laugh, makes you feel seen. He treats you like you’re the prize, not some stolen treasure.

And yet, you’re the one hiding him. He’s eager to show you off, to take you to lavish galas with his Ivy League crowd, or whisk you away to some foreign paradise.

But a stubborn part of you clings to Marcus, to the ridiculous fantasy that one day he might wake up and finally choose you.

That he’ll leave her and realize you were what he wanted all along.

It’s an illusion, of course. And you know it—especially when Marcus mentions that he and his wife are starting couples counseling.

His tone is so nonchalant. It’s like he doesn’t even register what that means for you. But you do. It’s a dagger to the heart, a confirmation of the insecurities that have been simmering on your side of the affair for as long as it’s been happening.

The beginning of the end. If he’s putting in the effort to save his marriage, you’re the obvious sacrifice.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That it’s good he’s fixing things because it means you can finally walk away.

That night, you cry—gut-wrenching sobs that wrack your body as you curl up on your couch.

The tears aren’t just for him. They’re for you, for the mess you let yourself fall into, for the heartbreak you practically handed to yourself on a silver platter.

You didn’t realize how much of yourself you’d given to him until it was too late.

In what world does the mistress ever get a happy ending?

Determined, you decide that your time together is up. For real this time.

The sessions with his wife have already put distance between you—less frequent rendezvous, fewer late-night texts. And when you are together, the connection feels fractured.

Sure, he still fucks you like he always has, still uses that ancient, sweet language that once made you feel special.

But now, everything he does cuts like glass because you know it’s just an act, a hollow currency to keep you around, to keep you looking at him like he’s your moon and stars.

Tonight is supposed to be the last time. You’ve planned it out—how you’ll say it, how you’ll walk away. The usual hotel room feels like the right setting for closure, neutral and familiar enough to weather whatever fallout may come.

You arrive early, as always. The room is pristine, the bed’s crisp linens beckoning. But it’s the item sitting in the center that draws your attention.

A white box tied with a vibrant red bow, your name written elegantly on a card tucked into the ribbon.

Knew these would look divine on you the moment I saw them, my carissime. I haven’t been the most attentive lover as of late, and for that, I apologize. - M

Your heart stutters as you slip the bow free and open the box. Inside lies the most exquisite set of lingerie you’ve ever seen, delicate lace and fine silk in a shade that complements your skin tone perfectly.

It looks so luxurious, you’re almost afraid to touch it. Two smaller boxes rest alongside it. Curious, you open them to reveal earrings and a matching necklace, adorned with your favorite gemstones.

Damn him. He’s making this so hard. The rational part of you knows better, but the temptation is too strong.

What’s the harm in one final night of indulgence? One last chance to revel in his attention, to let him taste you and remember exactly what he’s losing?

You slip out of your clothes, carefully donning the lingerie. The way it hugs your curves, accentuating every dip and swell of your body, makes you feel like a goddess.

You glance at your heels from earlier, slipping them back on—they match perfectly, adding the final touch to your look.

A small, knowing smile graces your lips. If this is goodbye, you’ll make sure it’s a goodbye he’ll never forget.

The door clicks open, and Marcus steps inside, the heavy weight of his presence commanding the room.

He pauses, taking in the sight of you sprawled across the bed, legs kicking up lazily, your chin propped on your palm. The thin strap of your bra slips down your shoulder, revealing more than enough to stoke the embers of desire in his eyes.

His gaze rakes over you with the intensity of a predator. “Dulcissima…” he breathes, the word oozes like molasses, thick and sweet, curling in your ear and making you wet.

You tilt your head, giving him your best doe-eyed expression, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Hi, Marcus,” you sing-song, your tone sweet, teasing, knowing exactly what it does to him.

He steps closer, his eyes lingering on the curves accentuated by the expensive lingerie he gifted you. “I was right to assume you’d look fucking sexy in this,” he says, his voice lower now, his fingertips grazing up your spine.

The faint touch sends a delicious shiver across your skin. His eyes devour you, the glint of the necklace he’d bought you sparkling against your throat like a declaration of ownership.

You turn slowly onto your back, stretching out lazily like a kitten, letting him take in the full view, and he exhales sharply through his nose, his control visibly fraying.

His gaze dips to the way the bra pushes your breasts together, the soft curve of your stomach, the jewelry catching the light.

“Did you like your gifts?” he asks, leaning down to press his lips against your bare midriff.

The kiss is hot, possessive, and you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin. Your stomach flips under his touch.

“Mhm…” you hum softly, keeping your tone light and coy.

His kisses trail higher, his mouth brushing over the swell of your breasts, the faint scrape of his teeth and beard sending a tremor through your body. When he bites down gently, your shaky exhale gives you away, and he chuckles, pleased with himself.

“Good,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin. “Couldn’t let my favorite girl forget how much I care about her.”

The word “favorite” grates against something inside you, even as the heat of his mouth distracts you. You let him keep talking, let him spin his meaningless webs.

You know this will be the last time, but you’ll let him play his game a little longer—for now.

Your fingers slip into his salt and peppered hair, pulling him up to you. His lips crash against yours in a fiery kiss, all teeth and tongue, his need barely contained. Your hands slide down his shoulders, body arching against him.

His hands move below you, skillfully undoing the clasp of your bra, the fabric slipping down your arms—when a sudden, sharp knock at the door splits the air.

Both of you freeze. Your breath catches in your throat, and you pull back, looking at Marcus in confusion.

His expression mirrors yours, his brow furrowing in annoyance as he glances toward the door.

The knock comes again, louder this time, more insistent. Then, a voice—deep, familiar, furious.

“Open the door. I know you’re in there.” A pause, your name spoken with quiet venom. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Lucius.

Panic flares in your chest. Your stomach twists as the full weight of what’s about to happen sinks in. You scramble off the bed, your hands shaking as you grab your bra and hurriedly fasten it, your mind racing.

Marcus straightens, his countenance hardening as recognition dawns. His entire demeanor shifts, his shoulders squaring, his jaw tightening.

Everything is going to come to a head now, and you’re not ready for the chaos about to unfold. Marcus is seconds away from finding out about you and Lucius, Lucius uncovering your affair—and there’s no way to stop the inevitable collision.

He stalks to the door, throwing it open with a force that rattles the frame.

There stands Lucius, his expression a storm of anger and betrayal.

His sharp gaze cuts past Marcus immediately, landing on you. He matches the stance of the other man as he takes in the scene: your disheveled state, the lingerie, the necklace glinting on your chest.

“So it’s true.” He storms into the room, “I knew you were sleeping around. My mother did too—just not with who. I should have fucking known it was her.” His words strike like daggers. “It’s always the gold-digging, whorish assistant.”

The insult lands hard, but you refuse to flinch.

Marcus steps forward, spitting out his name. His lips curl into a snarl, his broad body taut with controlled aggression. “What is it that you want? And don’t bullshit me.”

Lucius doesn’t back down. “To see you fall.”

The room goes deadly quiet, the tension is a living thing now, crackling with the threat of violence. You stand frozen, both men squaring off like animals about to tear each other apart.

“Once my mother hears about this, she’s going to divorce you. She’ll take everything. The firm will be mine. She,” his gaze shifts to you, and it’s like being pierced with ice. “Will be mine.”

Marcus lets out a laugh—dark, guttural, dangerous.

“You are an entitled little shit,” the insult makes his disdain clear. “You think you can waltz in here, throw a tantrum, and get what you want? You think I give a damn about your threats?”

“I don’t need threats,” Lucius snaps. “I have the truth.”

“What truth?”

Lucius fucking smirks, stepping away from him and closer to you, rounding your body until he’s right behind you, his words melting into your skin. “She’s not just your dirty little secret. She’s been fucking me too.”

The words drop like a bomb, shattering the fragile facade of control in the room.

Marcus’s body stiffens, gaze snapping toward you with a look you can’t quite decipher—shock, anger, betrayal all dancing in his dark brown eyes.

“Is that true?” He demands, his eyes bore into you, demanding an answer.

Your throat goes dry, panic rising like an avalanche threatening to drown you. “Marcus, I—”

“It’s true,” Lucius interrupts, his tone triumphant and venomous, wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you flush against him. “She’s been playing both sides. Isn’t that right?” His lips trail over your neck, and you hate the way the throbbing at your pussy begins to pulse. “Tell him. Tell him how you’d come running to me every time he wasn’t enough for you. How you let me fuck you while he was on the phone.”

“That’s enough,” Marcus growls, stepping closer, his larger frame looming over the both of you. His anger is palpable, but there’s something else simmering beneath it—arousal.

Lucius laughs, the sound bitter and taunting. “What’s the matter, Acacius? Is the truth too much for you? Or is it the thought of this pussy creaming all over my cock that’s got you so worked up?”

His hand presses against you, his fingers teasing through the damp fabric of your panties, and a soft whimper escapes your lips despite yourself. You bite down on it too late, and Marcus’s gaze sharpens, locking onto you like a predator.

“She’s a liar,” Lucius continues, his voice a deadly purr. “And a cheat. Just like you.”

The accusation tantalizes a reaction out of Marcus, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, his eyes fall to where Lucius’s hand moves between your legs, then back to your face.

Slowly, deliberately, he steps closer until the barest inch separates the two of you.

“You’re dripping,” Lucius observes with a smirk, his tone triumphant. “She likes it when we talk to her like this.”

“I know she does,” Marcus replies, razor-sharp. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his fingers digging just enough to make you gasp. “She always gets off on being called out for what she is—a filthy, nasty little slut.”

“Oh my god,” you breathe, the words slipping out unbidden as Lucius begins to circle your clit. Your head falls back against his shoulder, your body betraying you with every twitch and moan.

“No, darling,” Marcus commands, tightening his grip on your face and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Keep those pretty eyes open.”

You blink up at him, your lashes damp with unshed tears of humiliation and need. His gaze is scorching, consuming every inch of your face.

“Why?” Marcus demands, his voice steady but deadly. “Why both of us? What’s in it for you?”

Your lips part, the truth clawing its way to the surface. “Because I can,” you finally admit, your voice trembling but defiant.

The confession hits the air like a spark to kindling. Marcus’s lips morph into a cold smirk, and Lucius lets out a low chuckle behind you.

“Say that again,” Marcus orders, leaning in until his forehead almost touches yours.

“I had two powerful men doing everything for me,” your admission is louder this time, emboldened by the heat of their attention. “Showering me with gifts, meals, and good cock. Why the fuck would I give that up?”

Marcus’s grip on your jaw shifting to trail down your throat, gripping it just enough to make your pulse race beneath his fingertips.

“You’re perfect, my carissime.” There’s this softness to his tone that surprises you, and it only amplifies the pleasure you feel as Lucius slips two fingers inside of you, your mouth falling open as you let out a breathy moan. “So beautiful.” He’s not furious—he’s consumed by the same fire threatening to burn all three of you alive.

“Tell us,” Lucius demands, his voice a smooth drawl as his digits curl just right, pressing onto the spongy, sensitive spot that makes your desire flare. “Tell us what you really want, or we’ll stop. Maybe leave you here all wet and needy.”

Marcus can feel the way you harshly swallow against his palm, brows twitching with amusement as he watches you intently, anticipating your answer. “I want both of you,” you confess. “I want you to ruin me, together.”

The air between you is laced with shared lust and hostility. Marcus shakes his head, a bitter, haughty laugh escaping him. “You really are a whore,” he says, his free hand gripping your chin again to force you to look at him. “And you’ll take whatever we give you. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you whisper, the word a plea as Lucius withdraws his fingers only to bring them to your lips. He smirks when you part them willingly, sucking his fingers clean with a moan that makes Marcus’s eyes darken further.

“You’ve got her trained well,” He taunts, his gaze locking with Marcus’s over your shoulder.

“Enough talking,” Marcus snaps, his patience finally snapping, “Get her on the bed.”

Lucius doesn’t hesitate. He guides you backwards, sitting at the edge of the bed with you on his lap, undoing your bra and slipping it off your shoulders.

Your legs spread instinctively, your body already responding to the charged dominance of the two men using you.

Lucius’s lips claim yours in a kiss that’s as punishing as it is passionate. His hands roam freely over your body, kneading your breasts, pinching at your nipples while Marcus watches, his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned but still on.

He strokes himself slowly, his gaze fixed on the way Lucius toys with you.

When Lucius pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips. He smirks, attention turning to Marcus. “She’s all yours. For now,” his tone drips with challenge.

Marcus steps forward, gripping your thighs. “Been thinking about tasting her all day. You’re not about to fuck that up for me.”

Then, with a confidence that makes your heart stutter, he drops to his fucking knees.

The motion is almost reverent, but the hunger in his eyes tells a different story. He hooks his fingers into the delicate lace of your panties, dragging them down your legs until they hang precariously from the sharp tip of your heels. His breath ghosts over your sticky, swollen folds, making your thighs quiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Marcus mutters under his breath, the words guttural, as if the sight alone is enough to wreck him. His mouth descends, and the moment his tongue laves over your folds, devouring you with reckless abandon, you cry out, your back arching instinctively against Lucius.

“Oh!” The exclamation is ripped from your throat, and Lucius grunts in response, his hands tugging at your sensitive nipples while his lips and teeth nip at your neck, leaving stinging kisses.

It’s overwhelming, the sensation of being worshipped and claimed by both of them.

The heat, the hands, the mouths—everything converges until you’re dizzy with pleasure. Your trembling fingers fumble behind you, reaching for Lucius’s pants, desperate for more.

It makes him chuckle low in your ear, the sound both amused and darkly approving.

“Impatient,” Lucius murmurs, helping you by undoing his pants and freeing his thick cock. You wrap your shaky hand around him, earning a hiss of pleasure as he hardens further under your touch.

Meanwhile, Marcus’s lips wrap around your fleshy pearl, sucking it into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. His tongue flicks against the sensitive nub, your hips grinding against his face.

He doesn’t stop you—if anything, he encourages it, absolutely pussy drunk, groaning against your cunt as if your taste alone could sustain him.

Your juices smear across his lips and beard, the rough bristle of it adding another layer of sensation that makes your vision blur. The heat coils tighter in your core, your thighs trembling as Lucius’s cock twitches in your hand.

You have a devious idea. With a soft call of Marcus’s name, you draw his attention, your voice breathless and needy.

His dark eyes flick up to yours, his lips glistening with your slick. Without a word, you extend your hand, palm up, quirking a brow in silent request.

Marcus smirks, his smugness dripping with sinful intent, and spits into your hand. The obscene mixture of his saliva and your syrupy arousal pools in your palm, and you return to stroking Lucius’s cock with it. His sharp intake of breath tells you he appreciates the added slickness.

“Fuck,” Lucius curses, his hips jerking forward into your grip as your lips reconnect with his. Marcus, undeterred, dives back between your legs, his tongue and lips working in perfect rhythm.

The wet, lewd sounds of your hand on Lucius’s cock and Marcus devouring you echo through the room, an indecent symphony pushing you closer to the edge.

Your breaths grow ragged, your body taut like a bowstring. “I—I’m close,” you manage to stammer, your voice barely audible against Lucius’s mouth.

“Then come,” Marcus commands, his voice muffled against your heat but no less authoritative. “Come all over my tongue, darling. Take it.”

His teeth graze your clit just right, and the sharp sensation sends you careening over the edge. You scream his name, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashes over you, your release drenching Marcus’s face.

He doesn’t falter, drinking you greedily as though you’re the sweetest ambrosia. The fountain of fucking youth.

You collapse against Lucius, your body trembling and spent, but the men aren’t done with you. Not even close.

Marcus rises to his feet, his shirt already discarded, his chest heaving as he toes off his shoes and sheds the rest of his clothing. Lucius holds you close, his hands gentle as they trail over your skin, his lips pressing soft, almost tender kisses to your shoulder.

Then you’re maneuvered, heels taken off and bent over the edge of the bed.

Lucius scoots back just enough to rid himself of his remaining garments, his cock standing proud and throbbing as it brushes against your cheek. He cups your face, his thumb stroking your flushed skin as he guides the bulbous head to your lips.

Marcus leans down to kiss the back of your shoulder, his lips hot against your skin. “Show him what that pretty little mouth can do.”

You moan softly, your lips parting to take Lucius in. “I know exactly what she can do,” he says cockily, his voice dark with jealousy. “Don’t I, baby?”

Marcus growls from behind, envious, his large hands sliding over your ass, squeezing possessively as he lines himself up with your dripping, fluttering entrance.

You whimper, nodding weakly, but any response is cut off as Marcus thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt in one unrelenting stroke.

You cry out, the stretch of him almost too much. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, his hands gripping your hips as he sets a punishing pace.

Lucius gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, holding you steady as he begins to rock his hips, driving himself deeper down your throat. “Goddamn,” he rasps, his face contorting in bliss.

The intensity of it all—the exhilarating roughness of Marcus inside you, the weight of Lucius on your tongue, the heat and dominance radiating from both of them—sends your mind spiraling.

Your body is a conduit for their pleasure, and the way they claim you, together, makes the ache in your core unbearable.

“She’s so fucking tight,” Marcus growls, his nails digging into your skin. “Even with two cocks, she could take more. Couldn’t you, carissima?”

Lucius pulls you back with his firm grip on your hair as he forces you to answer. “Y-Yes,” you stutter, tears pricking your eyes from the sheer intensity. “Both of you—however you want me.”

The words spark something feral in them both. Marcus spanks you hard, the sharp sting making you cry out, while Lucius smirks, his gaze burning with approval.

“She’s about to come again,” Marcus announces, his thrusts growing erratic. “I can feel it. Shit, I shouldn’t let her, but she looks so goddamn beautiful when she does.”

Lucius chuckles darkly, his hand stroking his cock as he watches you fall apart. “She really is something when she’s like this.”

Marcus’s hand cracks against your ass repeatedly in a rhythmic cadence, heightening the pressure building deep within you. Each spank forces a moan from your throat, your body yielding completely to him as he drives you closer to the edge.

When your orgasm hits, it’s shattering. Your muscles lock, trembling as you cry out his name, the intensity leaving you utterly spent. Your release coats Marcus’s thick cock, the mess dripping down between your thighs.

Lucius, ever the observer, watches with an almost languid fascination, his lips curling into a sly smirk.

He doesn’t try to reclaim your mouth, instead captivated by the way your features twist in pleasure.

The sounds leaving you are primal—animalistic—and you’re too far gone to care. Your body screams for respite, muscles quivering from the relentless pace Marcus set, but your desire eclipses your exhaustion.

You don’t want it to stop; you crave more, as if their touch is the only thing keeping you tethered to this earth.

Your pussy flutters around Marcus as if unwilling to let him go, and for a moment, he hesitates, groaning at the way you cling to him.

“Could die in your sweet cunt,” he sighs, pulling out reluctantly. His cock, glistening with your combined juices, twitches at the loss of your warmth. “But I want to see you bounce on his cock now. Go on—show me how well you can follow instructions.”

The command is firm and your body responds before your mind can catch up.

Lucius shifts back against the headboard, his expression one of lazy satisfaction as he pulls you onto his lap. His hands guide you with surprising gentleness, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your hips as your lips meet his.

The kiss is slow, a stark contrast to the brutal pace Marcus had set, but it’s no less intense.

You feel Lucius’s cock slide through your swollen and used folds, the head teasing your oversensitive entrance before he thrusts inside.

You gasp into his mouth, wincing at the overwhelming sensation, but the pleasure quickly drowns out the ache as you adjust to him.

“Lucius,” you whimper, your voice high and pleading as your hips begin to rock. The friction makes you shudder, your body melting against his as he matches your rhythm.

“Just like that,” he groans, his head falling back against the headboard. His praise is genuine, his tone dripping with admiration. “Fuck, you’re amazing. Keep going—ride me, baby.”

You obey, rolling your hips with increasing determination before bouncing on him, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the room. You cling to him for support, your sweat slick tits pressing against his as he moves with you.

The bed dips, the shift pulling your attention away just as Marcus reappears, his towering figure imposing. His cock, messy with your release, bobs enticingly in front of you, making your mouth water.

You don’t hesitate. Leaning forward, you press a teasing kiss to the base of his shaft before dragging your tongue up the length of him, from his heavy balls to the sensitive tip.

You repeat the action, savoring the salty taste of yourself on him before finally taking him into your mouth.

The room is a haze of sweat, lust, and the raw, carnal need radiating between the three of you.

Marcus curses above you as your mouth devours him, your lips dragging from his throbbing, veined shaft down to the soft weight of his balls.

You let your tongue explore, slurping and licking, his sparse pubic hairs tickling your cheeks.

“Shit,” he groans, his large hand resting at the back of your head, letting you work at your own pace. “You’re so good at this, you know that? Worshipping me like you’re fucking made for it.”

Your throat is hoarse from the cries you’ve let out and the sheer volume of cock you’ve taken, but you press on, sucking and tonguing at him.

Lucius’ nails dig into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks, leaving faint crescents in their wake as he thrusts upward into your drenched pussy, the force of his movements making your entire body jolt.

“Keep bouncing on it,” He spreads your ass cheeks wider, his fingers teasing your other hole, brushing lightly against the tight ring.

The sensation makes you gasp against Marcus, your pussy clenching hard around the cock inside of you.

Marcus lets out a low laugh, his thumb swiping over the sheen of sweat on your temple.

“You’ve been in this tight little ass before?” Lucius asks, his tone laced with curiosity and lust.

“Plenty of times,” Marcus replies smoothly, gripping your face to guide your mouth back onto him. “She takes it so well. Always does. Don’t you, dulcissima?”

You gurgle around his length, your throat convulsing as he pushes deep, cutting off your air supply.

The world starts to dim, stars dancing at the edges of your vision, but the dizzying combination of Marcus’s cock down your throat and Lucius’s relentless thrusts makes you shudder with pleasure.

Marcus finally releases you, pulling out with a slick pop, and a mess of saliva drips down your chin, your chest, mixing with the sweat already coating your skin.

You cough, your body trembling as you try to catch your breath, and when you look up, your face is a wreck—puffy lips, smeared makeup, eyes glassy.

“Please,” you manage to whisper, your voice broken but no less keen.

Marcus tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing your spit-slick lips. “So fucking dirty,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you sloppily, uncaring of the mess between you.

His lips are selfish, his tongue curling against yours, his large hand cradling your face as if you’re his salacious treasure.

Lucius slows his thrusts, letting Marcus take over once he’s finished kissing you.

You’re pliant, boneless, too fucked-out to do anything but submit as Marcus positions himself behind you.

Your body is sandwiched between them, the heat of their skin against yours making your head swim. The room reeks of sex, their natural musk mingling with the sticky-sweet scent of your arousal.

“You got what you wanted, huh?” Lucius whispers against your ear, his lips brushing your neck.

“Both of us at the same time,” Marcus answers for you, his tone dripping with amusement as he strokes himself, the other hand spreading your ass.

His thumb circles your puckered hole, pressing just enough to make you moan.

“Fuck yes,” you pant, a smirk pulling at the corners of your swollen lips despite how utterly wrecked you feel.

The two men exchange a look—a silent agreement passing between them.

Marcus spits, the warm glob of saliva landing perfectly on your tight hole. His cock, wet with your earlier attention, glistens as he smears the spit across himself, preparing you.

“Relax,” Lucius coos, his hand brushing your hair back. His lips press against your jaw then the corner of your mouth. “Take it like you always do.”

Marcus pushes in slowly, the stretch almost unbearable, and your breath hitches, eyes rolling back as your body adjusts to the intrusion.

The sensation of being completely filled—Lucius’s cock buried in your pussy, Marcus’s girthy length breaching your ass—is overwhelming.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your nails digging into Lucius’s shoulders as Marcus inches deeper, his pace agonizingly deliberate.

“Always so tight, and ready” Marcus growls, his voice thick with restraint.

Lucius lets out a low chuckle, his hands roaming your body, one moving to your breast to tweak a sensitive nipple. “She always is. And she loves it, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your voice trembling, desperate. “I love it.”

They move in tandem, their cocks filling you, stretching you, driving you mad with pleasure as they fuck you mercilessly.

You’re lost in it all; the pain, the rhapsody, the sound of their grunts and groans mingling with your cries as your body is pushed to its limit.

It’s all a blur of sin. Both men push you closer and closer to the brink of oblivion.

Marcus drives into your ass, his fingers leaving bruises on the meat of your hips, while Lucius pistons upward from beneath you, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside your pussy that makes your vision white out.

The thin barrier of flesh separating their cocks as they thrust into you sends jolts of ecstasy coursing through your body, your nerves raw and exposed.

You feel alive—every touch, every degrading word, every deserving thrust driving you closer to the precipice.

Their voices are a cacophony in your ears, their sharp remarks intertwining with your own ragged moans.

“Look at her,” Marcus sneers from behind you, his hand coming down in a sharp slap against your ass, forcing a yelp from your lips. “She’s fucking loving this. Such a filthy little thing, taking both our cocks like it’s the only thing she’s good for.”

You can’t form words, your head lolling between them as their bodies claim yours. Every stroke blurs the line between pain and pleasure, their belittling words fanning the flames in your gut.

“Slut,” Marcus taunts, his voice dripping with mockery as his hand slides up your back, pushing you further down against Lucius’s chest.

Lucius’s hand snakes between your legs, his fingers finding your swollen clit.

The added stimulation is too much. With a strangled cry, your final orgasm explodes through you, ripping a scream from your throat as you convulse around them.

“Fuck!” you shout, your voice cracking as your body arches and you reach blindly for the both of them to anchor yourself. “Marcus! Lucius!”

“That’s it, scream for us,” Marcus mocks, his voice rough as he continues pounding into your ass.

Lucius grips your waist, holding you flush against him, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he murmurs darkly, “Gonna fill this pussy up, and you’re not going to waste a single drop, you hear me?”

You nod weakly, your body limp against him as both men drive into you, their relentless rhythm dragging you through the haze of overstimulation.

“Poor girl is out of it,” Marcus taunts, slapping your sore ass again. “Come on, hang on a little longer.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of it all. It is almost too much, and for a fleeting moment, you consider tapping out. But the way their bodies command yours, the sound of their growls, and the sheer force of their presence keep you in the game.

Marcus’s breathing grows labored, his hands clutching your hips right above where Lucius is holding you as he thrusts into you wildly a few more times before he freezes, his cock pulsing deep inside you.

“Fucking. Take. It,” he snarls as his release floods your ass in hot, thick ribbons.

Your body twitches against Lucius’s as Marcus lets out a satisfied grunt, and he is the last to follow, as he forces you down onto his cock entirely, holding you there while he empties himself into your pussy.

You’re spent, your body trembling and boneless as they finally slow, their brawny hands roaming over your skin as if soothing the raw, frenzied mess they’ve made of you.

The exhaustion finally catches up, an almost unbearable heaviness dragging at your limbs as Marcus and Lucius pull out of you.

You barely register their murmured words or the gentle way they clean you up, your body too drained to offer anything more than faint whimpers.

When your head hits the pillow, lying on your back beneath the linens, sleep claims you almost instantly, as though your body has surrendered entirely.

You don’t know how much time passes before you stir again. The room is still dark, save for the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Everything is quiet—no voices, no sounds of movement— and you blink, fully groggy and disoriented.

Every inch of you is sore, your legs leaden, your pussy and ass throbbing with the aftermath of their brutal attentions. Shifting slightly, you wince, and the movement stirs a dull, lingering heat in your core.

“Carissime,” the familiar endearment pulls you fully from the fog of sleep, your heart skipping as you feel large hands seeking you out, pulling you into a broad chest that you recognize all too well.

“Marcus,” you croak, your throat burning with the effort, the rough sounds of earlier cries and screams still lingering in your vocal cords.

Your words devolve into a coughing fit, and Marcus shifts immediately, reaching over to flick on the lamp beside the bed.

Warm light floods part of the room, making you squint and illuminating his strong features, softened with concern as he hands you a glass of water he must have prepared.

“Drink.”

You gulp the water down greedily, the coolness soothing your parched throat. When the glass is empty, you lower it shakily, only for Marcus to take it from your hands and set it aside.

His hand slides to your back, stroking it in slow, deliberate circles.

“What…” you start, your thoughts tangled, unsure where to begin.

Marcus hushes you, tipping your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, his dark eyes boring into yours. “You made a mess of things, you know that, right?”

You can only stare at him, your lips parting in confusion as he holds your gaze captive.

“You know I don’t like sharing,” he continues, his voice deceptively gentle. “And you still went out and found some other dick to hop on... Not just with anyone, either, but with Lucius.” His lips curl into a wry smile, almost amused at the irony.

The mention of your other lover makes your heart race.

“My sweet girl,” Marcus goes on, stroking your thigh beneath the sheets with his free hand. “This is my fault, really. For not prioritizing you the way I should have.”

There’s a flicker of guilt in his expression, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears. “But it could never be that way. You know this. I told you from the start I’d never put you at the forefront. And I meant it.”

His words sting, soft though they are, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You don’t know where he’s leading this conversation, but it feels like he’s holding your heart right in the palm of his hand.

“I convinced the boy to keep our secret,” Marcus continues, his thumb brushing against your lower lip as he watches you intently. “But you’re too much of a temptation to keep around. I should fire you. Let you go.”

Your breath catches, panic surging momentarily until his hand moves higher, cupping your cheek.

“But I’m a selfish man that craves your cunt,” he admits, his lips curling in a predatory smirk. “Your mouth. Your body.”

His hand presses firmer against your thigh, as if to emphasize his claim, while his thumb continues its tantalizing stroke over your lip.

“So I’m—we’re—keeping you around,” Marcus declares, the weight of his decision settling heavily in the space between you.

You should feel insulted, degraded even. But instead, the ache between your legs throbs with want, remembering how he and Lucius took you apart.

“It’s the only way I can make this work without losing you. It’ll kill me to know you’ll roll around in bed with him, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make to keep seeing your beautiful face every day. To keep my share of the firm.”

So this is what it’s all about—it isn’t about love, it’s about men and their entitlement, their rivalry, their need to possess and control.

Marcus tilts his head, studying you as if waiting for your response. “That is, if you want it,” he adds. “I have no interest in keeping you here against your will.”

The opening is there—the chance to leave this mess behind. To reclaim some shred of dignity and walk away from the entanglement of lust and rivalry these men represent.

But then the delicious ache in your body pulls at you, reminding you of how good it felt to have both of them claim you, how intoxicating it is to be the center of their desire, their depravity.

You don’t ask about his wife or any of that other bullshit. Instead, your lips curve into a saccharine smile, and you nod, your voice steady despite the chaos in your mind.

“I want this,” you say simply.

Marcus’s eyes darken with satisfaction, his smirk growing as he cups your face and kisses you—messy and bruising, claiming you once more.

If you’re a bad person for choosing this, then so be it. Bad people always find their place, and yours is right here, tangled in their dangerous games.

#pedro pascal #paul mescal #marcus acacius smut #lucius verus smut #lucius verus x reader #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator ii fanfiction #gladiator ii fic #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius fanfic #lucius verus fic #lucius verus fanfic #kat's writing.

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sunni-stuff · 1 month ago

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Adira and Mama have always celebrated valentines together. And now we have Simon, who in addition to wanting to create a connection with Adira, he also wants to recreate that "love" with Mom. So, this Valentine's Day, Simon and Adira team up to give Mom a wonderful gift!

Valentine’s Day.

The holiday where people got all sappy, handed out cards, and smothered their significant others with roses and kisses. The streets would be painted in shades of red and pink, filled with the bustling energy of couples trying to outdo each other with grand romantic gestures.

But for you, Valentine’s Day had always been about something else. Since Adira was born, it became a tradition to celebrate the love of your life in your own way. You didn’t need a partner to make the day meaningful; you had her. Every year, you’d gift her a small box of her favorite chocolates—indulgent, sweet pieces she’d greedily munch on, leaving her cheeks smeared with chocolate and her gummy grin brighter than the sun.

You couldn’t help but remember the memory of how Adira’s love affair with that brand of chocolate started. Godiva Gold Collection—an unnecessarily expensive, fancy brand that had somehow become her favorite. You still had the box that started it all, tucked away in the closet of keepsakes, its shiny gold lid a time capsule of an unexpected moment from your early days at the daycare.

It was your first Valentine’s Day as an assistant, back before you had your own class. You’d been trying to keep a low profile, just another cog in the machine, but one of the dads had made that impossible. For weeks, he’d been flirting with you, persistent in a way that made you roll your eyes more than blush. Day in and day out, he’d linger a little too long during drop-offs or pick-ups, throwing out compliments like confetti. It was harmless enough, but you never entertained it beyond polite smiles.

That Valentine’s Day, though, he decided to up the ante. Strolling in with his daughter on one arm and an elaborate, glittering box of chocolates in the other, he sauntered over to you with the confidence of a man who thought he’d already won.

“I thought you might like these,” he said, handing you the Godiva box with a grin that was probably meant to be charming but mostly came off smug. “Figured you deserved a little something for always being so amazing.”

You took the box graciously, murmuring a polite thank-you. And that’s when the moment turned unexpectedly sweet.

Before you could even process the interaction, a tiny figure toddled into the room—Adira, barely one year old, her chubby legs carrying her as fast as they could toward you. Her little hand stretched up, fingers opening and closing in that unmistakable signal: I want.

You smiled at her, heart melting as it always did. “Of course, little fox,” you murmured, placing the box carefully in her hands. She hugged it to her chest with the kind of pure joy that only a child could muster, her little fingers already fumbling with the lid.

The dad’s confident grin faltered as he watched the scene unfold. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait… You give chocolate to all the kids here? Isn’t that, uh, bad for them?” He gestured awkwardly toward Adira, who had now plopped herself onto the floor, fully engrossed in her mission to open the box.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood back up. “No, I don’t give chocolate to all the kids,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “Adira’s mine.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as the realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, darting between you and Adira as if trying to piece together a puzzle he hadn’t even realized was in front of him.

“She’s… yours?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, glancing down at Adira, who had successfully pried the box open and was now holding a truffle in her tiny hands like it was a treasure. “Yep. My daughter,” you said, pride evident in your voice. “She’s the reason I started working here, actually. Thought it’d be a good way to balance work and being there for her.”

The man’s face turned an odd shade of red, and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. He had assumed, just like so many others, that you were childless and ready to play along with his flirtations. But you weren’t. And that, in some small way, felt like a victory.

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t realize,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I, uh, thought you were single. And… you know, childless.”

“Nope,” you said with a small laugh. “Very much a mom.”

He began backing toward the door with an apologetic smile. “Right, well… I should get going. My daughter’s probably waiting for me. Happy Valentine’s Day!” And just like that, he was gone.

Wasn't he holding his daughter?

His swift retreat had you chuckling even as you turned your attention back to Adira, who was now blissfully munching on her stolen treasure. She looked up at you, her grin wide and sticky, chocolate clinging to her growing pearly whites.

“Yum!” she declared, holding up another piece as if offering it to you.

Now, every Valentine’s Day, when you handed her a new box, she’d squeal with glee, just like she did when she was a baby. And every time, it reminded you why you didn’t need flowers, cards, or romantic gestures to make the day special.

Adira was your Valentine. She always had been, and she always would be.

Valentine’s Day had arrived once again, painting the streets with an abundance of roses, teddy bears, and couples hand in hand. The air was charged with the energy of love—or at least, that’s how the advertisements made it seem.

For you, it was a different story. As a single parent, Valentine's Day didn’t come with the same excitement. Instead, it was a quiet reminder of the love you shared with Adira—the kind of love that didn't need gifts or fancy dinners. You had your own little celebration planned with her at home, but first, there was work.

The daycare was closing early that day, giving most of the staff the chance to spend time with their partners. But for the rest of you—those without a special someone—it was business as usual. The meeting, something about the upcoming budgets for the year, was mandatory.

As you wrapped up your workday, you felt a twinge of guilt. Adira wouldn’t have the patience to wait while you sat through the meeting. She never did, and today wasn’t going to be any different. So, in a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision, you called Simon. He was more than happy to help, even though the idea of being with Adira all afternoon seemed like a challenge. Still, he was eager to do what he could, giving you time to get through the meeting without worrying.

Unbeknownst to you, your apartment was currently in a state of complete disarray.

It all started when Simon, while rummaging through the pantry for snacks, stumbled upon a familiar gold box tucked in the corner. He didn’t know why the sight of the Godiva box stirred something in him, but it did. For a split second, his mind conjured up the idea that you had someone special—someone who’d given you the overpriced chocolate. His stomach twisted at the thought.

Why did that bother him? It wasn’t like he had any claim over you. You were just co-parenting. But still, the idea of some other guy swooping in and winning you over with fancy chocolates rubbed him the wrong way.

The thought simmered in the back of his mind until he turned to Adira, who was running around, triumphantly waving around her Barbie head like a trophy . An idea formed, one that made the edges of his frown soften into something more determined.

“How about we make your mom something special?” he proposed, crouching down to her level.

Adira’s eyes lit up, her face brightening with an enthusiastic grin. “Yeah! Special for Mommy!” She bounced to her feet, already brimming with elation.

“Alright, lass,” he said, ruffling her hair. “We’ll need a plan. Let’s get to work.”

By the time thirty minutes had passed, your apartment was barely recognizable. Flour dusted nearly every surface, glitter and scraps of colorful paper were strewn across the living room, and the faint smell of something slightly burnt wafted from the kitchen. Simon was in over his head.

He had underestimated two things: the sheer mess a three-year-old could create when left unchecked and the complexity of trying to bake cookies with said three-year-old as his assistant.

His phone laid on the counter, a lifeline to Gaz, who had graciously agreed to walk him through baking cookies. "Alright, I’ve got the dough… I think. What’s next?” he asked, glancing at the slightly lumpy mixture in the bowl.

On the other end of the line, Gaz chuckled. “Mate, it shouldn’t look like that. Did you actually measure the ingredients, or did you just eyeball it?”

Simon huffed, frustration bubbling as he wiped a streak of flour off his cheek. “I followed the recipe! Mostly. Adira added her own… interpretations.”

As if on cue, Adira, perched on a stool beside him, giggled mischievously, her tiny hands gripping the now-empty container of sprinkles. She enthusiastically dumped half of it into the bowl, sending a white puff into the air. She giggled uncontrollably as flour settled into her hair, making her look like a tiny ghost.

“Looks funny!” she declared, wiping her flour-dusted hands on his sleeve.

Simon groaned, but he couldn’t suppress the chuckle that followed. “Yeah, you look like you’ve been rolling around in snow.” Glancing at the concoction they were making, pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, “This is a disaster.”

“Oi, it’s not a disaster,” Gaz chimed in, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “You’ve just got… a creative helper. Roll with it. Kids love messy projects.”

As they moved on to rolling out the dough, Adira decided to take charge of the cookie cutters. She pressed them into the dough with all the strength her tiny hands could muster, creating wobbly fox shapes that were more abstract than symmetrical. “For Mommy!” she declared with each press, her little voice full of pride.

Simon’s heart softened at her excitement. Despite the chaos, she was having the time of her life, and he couldn’t deny that it was… fun, in a strange, messy sort of way.

“Alright, Gaz,” Simon said, propping the phone closer to his ear as he picked up a cookie sheet. “What temperature do I need to set the oven at?”

“Preheat it to 350. And keep an eye on those cookies—you don’t want them to burn.”

“Got it,” Simon replied, sliding the tray into the oven.

While the cookies were “baking” (a generous term for the mess he’d shoved into the oven), Simon pulled out some paper, markers, and glitter he’d found in your supply cabinet. Adira jumped in eagerly, grabbing a red marker to scribble a heart on a piece of paper.

“Mommy likes red,” she informed him with absolute certainty, her tongue poking out in concentration as she drew wobbly shapes.

“Aye, red it is,” Simon agreed, his own hands now dusted with glitter as he helped her glue a few sparkly hearts onto the card. “We’ll make it the prettiest card she’s ever seen.”

By the time the cookies were done, the kitchen was a disaster zone, glitter was everywhere, and Simon had flour smeared across his cheek. Adira was thrilled, though, holding up her homemade card with pride.

Simon pulled the cookies out of the oven, sighing in relief when they actually looked halfway decent. Adira gasped in delight, clapping her flour-dusted hands together.

“They’re perfect,” she declared, though one cookie was clearly missing a chunk where she’d snuck a bite of the dough earlier.

Simon chuckled, ruffling her hair. “You’re right, they’re perfect.”

By the time you got home, the chaos was still evident—scraps of paper littered the floor, flour smudged on the counters, and a sticky trail of frosting led to the living room. But in the middle of it all were Simon and Adira, sitting at the table with the slightly wonky cookies and a handmade card, waiting for you with proud grins on their faces.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy!” Adira exclaimed, jumping up to present you with her card.

Your heart melted at the sight, the mess fading into the background as you took in the scene before you. This wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was perfect.

Your voice caught in your throat as you held up the card Adira had made. The inside was adorned with little foxes, and the words scribbled across the page were a mix of Simon’s careful handwriting and Adira’s wobbly, childlike scrawl. The sentence read: “Call me Swiper because I’ve stolen your heart.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your chest tightening at the sight of it. The card was so simple, yet so heartfelt. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered love from the two people who had, in their own way, quietly wormed their way into your heart.

"You guys did all this…?" Your voice a little shaky, as you looked from the card to Simon and Adira, who were both sitting proudly at the table. Simon had flour on his cheek, and Adira’s face was a picture of joy, her hands covered in frosting and sprinkles. It was clear they’d both put their all into this little surprise.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face as he shrugged. “Well, Adira here had the idea. I just... tried not to burn the cookies.”

Adira giggled, holding up one of the cookies as if it were a trophy. It was slightly misshapen, with sprinkles all over it, but it didn’t matter. It was perfect in its imperfection. “Mommy, for you!” she exclaimed, her voice full of pride.

Your eyes softened, your heart swelling with love and something else you couldn’t quite place—appreciation, gratitude, maybe even a little awe. The moment was small, yet so significant.

“Thank you, Adira,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling as you knelt down to scoop her up into a hug. She squirmed in your arms, giggling as she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, her little fingers gripping your hair with an uncoordinated but tender affection.

Simon stood back, watching the two of you with a quiet smile. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face was enough. He was content, knowing he’d been part of this moment.

“This is the best Valentine’s Day gift ever,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as she squished her cheek against yours, still grinning ear to ear.

Simon hesitated for a moment, a twinge of uncertainty crossing his face as he stood there watching the tender scene. He knew he wasn’t quite there yet, not in the way you and Adira had been all this time. He was a part of this moment, but he still wasn’t sure exactly where he fit in. His eyes flickered between you, your outstretched arms, and the small bundle of joy that was his daughter, so full of love and happiness—it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t ignore.

But then, your words cut through the haze of his hesitation. "Why are you just standing there?"

You were smiling, the playful hint of a challenge in your eyes, but there was something more in your voice too—an invitation. You didn’t have to say anything else; it was in the way you held out your arms, in the way you pulled him in with your gaze.

Simon took a slow, steadying breath, his heart beating a little faster. He moved forward, tentative at first, before lowering himself to kneel beside you both. Adira giggled as he wrapped his arms around the two of you, her laughter echoing in the warm air of the apartment. He wasn’t just trying to fit into a place anymore. He carved one out for himself—right there, with you and Adira. And that, more than anything, felt like home.

It wasn’t the romantic, picture-perfect Valentine’s Day you’d imagined in the past, but it was better. It was real. It was messy, sweet, and full of love. The kind of love that came in small, beautiful moments like these.

And for the first time in a long while, you realized that maybe this was exactly how it was supposed to be.

A/N: I just wanna say rq, I appreciate the love AND to the anon who sent this, your brain needs to be kissed. I said I wasn't gonna do long fics as often but this was too juicy to pass up. Thank you!

ALSO, pls yall don't have to send me asks to be on the taglist! If you comment I'll add u!

TAGLIST: @pipedream411 @ficcharsimp009 @frogofrg @loonagabs @lunamoonbby @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @julesjuminos @tacticalgirlboss @teenagellamaangel @gifted-aurora @awildewit @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @t3a-bag @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @azaleapeachberry @terry2227 @rip-cod-brainrot @montenegroisr @sweetheartturtle2007 @hepprine @kodokunarisu-blog

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #cod x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #singlemom!reader #we meet again #sunshine sunni

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k0yaz · 6 months ago

Note

if you still write for danganronpa could i req a kokichi x afab (preferably gn) reader smut oneshot? pls n thx!!

molded

Pairings: kokichi x gn!reader

CW: nsfw, gender neutral pronouns, afab reader, breeding, no dom/sub dynamics, sort of vanilla sex but kinda rough??? kokichi being out of it? that pussy was too good

A/N: sorry I’ve been inactive for a few days I needed some time to collect myself lol also this one’s short bc I got not so creative feel free to request again if you want more detail or longer?

Heavy breathing and strained gasps echoed off the walls of the surrounding room. New sounds were wrenched out of your throat every time you felt Kokichi bottom out inside you, dragging himself in quick, yet rhythmic motions. Every thrust inside you sent euphoric waves throughout your body, your mind blanking from every time his tip hit that one sensitive spot inside you.

Kokichi knew damn well that as much as he wanted to hear your gorgeous moans, he couldn’t hold back his own voice no matter how much he wanted to. Between each fervent thrust of his hips colliding against yours, his lower lip dragged between his teeth, muffling his own grunts as his hard cock pushed into you. The sensations enveloping your bodies was too much. It drove you over the edge upon feeling Kokichi press several sloppy kisses against your flushed skin between his movements, it was honestly an adorable attempt to show his love for you.

A guttural moan escaped your throat upon feeling him push himself to the hilt into your cunt, as if he was trying to reach inside you as far as possible. The way he buried himself into you was slow, yet calculated. Stretching you out from the girth of his dick and practically molding your pussy to slip around his cock perfectly. You heaved several shallow breaths upon feeling the delicious intrusion within you, clawing into his back and raking your nails down.

“K-Kokichi…” you drawled out weakly, biting back another moan as you clenched around him. Kokichi however couldn’t even respond, nor could he tease like he usually does. He was so lost in the sensations, drool piled up near the corners of his mouth and sweat beading down his whole body. At this point, the two of you were just giving in to any raw desire you had and going along with it.

Despite being so small in terms of height, down there he certainly wasn’t based on how you were practically screaming for him. Your thighs trembled in his grasp as the muscles tightened upon feeling his steady movements in and out of you once again.

The way Kokichi’s cock was lodged inside you, mixed with the rhythmic motions of each rugged thrust only assisted by your slick submerging his cock for smoother movements, drove him insane.

“(Name)- please I can’t-“ Kokichi gasped out, his head thrown back as he was evidently biting back a string of obscene noises.

He hissed under his breath, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and quick. Skin clashed against skin as you felt his hips roughly collide with yours, with lewd squelching noises filling the air shamelessly. Kokichi shamelessly pounded into you, his own moans now slipping out of him with tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. Euphoric sensations washed over your whole body, your eyes rolling back every time you felt the veins of his cock ridge along your walls, driving you mad.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, your eyes losing themselves in his violet gaze like you always did. You loved him so much. “M’gonna cum…can we? At the same time?”

Kokichi could only nod between his labored breathing and fervent thrusts, immediately pushing himself forward into you and filling you up completely. His head fell back, fingers digging into your supple skin and heaving out a low moan as ropes of his cum poured into you, your own orgasm washing over you not too long after.

Your chests heaved as you came down from your high, bodies stuck together as if you were both molded for each other. You pressed a kiss to the top of his nose, smiling at his flushed face and dazed expression.

“Wanna go for another?”

A/N: delaying anything in my box because I got a personal request!! Hope u don’t mind short fic

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lyneylover · 3 months ago

Text

A Pleasurable Reward

Synopsis: Wriothesley sees how hard his new little assistant is working to keep peace and order in the fortress of meropide even with its tiring and chaotic nature. Impressed with your hard work he wants to think of a way to thank you but he's too busy and stressed with work. Luckily for him a little melusine nurse has just the perfect plan to satisfy both of you!

Warning(s): NSFW content, Cursing, small mentions of blood

MINORS PLS DNI!

Word count: 3.6k words

Another long tantalizing day slowly goes by in the Fortress of Meropide and Wriothesley’s new assistant runs around doing her tasks. During the afternoon she goes to serve Wriothesley his afternoon tea. You knocked on the door gently. “Your grace, I'm here with your tea.” You spoke in a soft tone waiting for him to give her the ok to come in.

Wriothesley lets out a seemingly cheerful hum hearing your soft voice grace his ears once again before giving you the ok to come in. “You can come in.” Wriothesley said in his usual calm voice but with a hint of happiness in it.

You open the door and smile at him, placing the tray with the tea down on his desk. She takes the teapot and pours the tea in the cup letting it cool off before placing it on the small tea plate and placing it in front of Wriothesley.

Once cool enough Wriothesley picks up the tea cup taking a sip. He was met with a pleasant surprise of his favorite flavor of tea. With a grin he looks at you. “Wow and what's the special occasion for you to make me my favorite tea without me even requesting it?” Wriothesley spoke in a playful manner.

You place the documents he had asked for earlier on his desk neatly stacked. “Oh, I just thought you would enjoy it! You've been working hard and I thought this would be a great way to help you relax.”

After you placed the documents down you did a little stretch. “Is there anything else I could do for you this afternoon, your grace?” You asked in a sweet tone.

Wriothesley takes another sip of tea before setting the cup down back on its little plate. “Again you can just call me Wriothesley as I said days earlier I consider you more than as my assistant now you're like a friend.”

He gave you a sweet smile that melted your heart. “Alright then well is there anything else you have for me to do for you Wriothesley?”

He hums in response, pausing and making it seem like he was thinking. “No I don't believe there's anything else I need you to do so I suppose you can take an early lunch break. Call me if you need anything though.”

You nod, waving goodbye to him before turning and walking out of his office. As you're walking out you see Sigewinne walking in.

Sigewinne stops right before opening the door and turns to you. Seeing the small melusine you smile and wave at her. She smiles and waves back before speaking up. “Good afternoon! I hope you've been having a good day. If you don't mind me asking, could you get me some herbs?”

Seeing her cute smile made your heart melt so you immediately agreed. “Oh sure! I was about to go on lunch break but I don't mind, what do you need me to get?”

Sigewinne tilts her head to the side. “Oh if you were going to go on break I wouldn't want to bother you! I could just-”

You quickly cut the girl off. “No no! I insist I can go, I have nothing else to do anyway. What do you need me to get?”

Seeing that you weren't going to back down, Sigewinne doesn't try to argue further.

“Alright if you say so but please make sure to take a break and relax. Like try doing something pleasing to you! We wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you.” Sigewinne said in a sweet voice.

You nod giving her a smile waiting for her to tell you the herbs she needed. Sigewinne handed you a small list of herbs she needed and you read over the list before nodding happily. “Alright I can get you these in no time! I'll be back soon!”

With that you were off to go and get her the herbs she asked for. While you were doing Sigewinne decided to talk to Wriothesley in his office.

She sat there listening to him talk about how he wanted to reward you for all your hard work and even doing extra things you weren't asked to do and not expecting anything from it at all. Yet unfortunately Wriothesley was also so busy and stressed recently so he didn't have much time to think of anything.

This is where Sigewinne came in and gave Wriothesley the idea to do something pleasurable for both you and him to help both of you relax. She even insisted that she set up everything for the moment so he could relax more.

The first step of Sigewinne’s master plan to help Wriothesley and you relax was now in session.

She calmly walked up to one of the few guards on duty tugging on their uniform lightly. The guard looks down at Sigewinne confused and surprised to see the head nurse come and tug on their uniform so suddenly.

The guard quickly snaps out of their shocked dazed and fumbled with their words slightly before speaking. “U-uhm is there anything I can do for you today miss Sigewinne?”

Sigewinne smiles and speaks up. “No need to be worried you're not in trouble! It's just that Lord Wriothesley said that a prisoner has escaped and he wants guards out on the surface to look for them!”

The nervous guard quickly nods and asks Sigewinne for a description of the escaped prisoner which Sigewinne quickly provides a description of what you look like. As soon as Sigewinne finishes, the guard thanks her.

“Thank you for informing me. I will inform some of the other guards about this so some can be on the surface to look while others stay here and keep an eye out!”

Sigewinne giggles with a cheeky smile. “Oh it's nothing! I'm just glad I could help you to find the criminal!” Sigewinne stated in a cheerful voice.

Sigewinne hums happily while walking away from the guard. Stage one of her little plan was complete. Stage two was to make sure Wriothesley wouldn't find out about this. Which would be easy for now as he had paperwork and all she had to do was wait until they caught you.

Meanwhile you were peacefully out buying the herbs Sigewinne was asking for when suddenly you hear a loud voice shout. “FREEZE WHERE YOU ARE! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST” You looked behind you wondering what was going on.

To your surprise the one the guards were speaking to was you. “Wait wait what!? You must have the wrong person! I'm innocent and have done nothing wrong.”

The guard cuts you off. “Please do not argue! You fit the description perfectly and we know what we're doing so come with us without a fight so we can make this easy.”

Not wanting to cause a bigger scene you reluctantly agree and follow the guards. You let them cuff you and take you back to the fortress of meropide. When you get there the first person you expect to see was Wriothesley but instead it's Sigewinne. You try to speak up and find out what's going on.

“Sigewinne do you know what's happening? I didn't do anything and I was arrested. Can you please help-” A guard suddenly told you to be quiet and to not speak to the head nurse.

The guard from earlier walks up to Sigewinne. “Is this the escaped prisoner that you were talking about?”

Sigewinne nods with a big smile. “Yup that's the one!”

The guard nods, getting ready to take you to Wriothesley’s office to see what your punishment would be when Sigewinne stops them.

“That won't be necessary! I'll take this one and you all can stay here and make sure nobody else escapes.” Sigewinne says quickly, taking you away from the guards before they could say anything to her

Most of the walk was silent. You were nervous and confused about what you did and how Wriothesley would react to seeing you. Would he be upset? Disappointed? Your thoughts were swirling around in your head making you zone out. You didn't even notice that you were in front of Wriothesley's office door until Sigewinne told you to stay out for a minute.

She walked into the office and shut the door behind her. Sigewinne felt so excited as the final part of her plan was approaching that she had to remind herself to stay calm and not blurt out the whole surprise.

Wriothesley raised a brow at Sigewinne seeing her come back into his office so suddenly. Sigewinne saw Wriothesley's confusion so she spoke in a bright and cheerful tone.

“Wriothesley! I have a very special surprise for you.” She smiled, giggling slightly.

Wriothesley was intrigued by this so he decided to humor into whatever Sigewinne was doing. “Oh, I wasn't expecting a surprise today. What might this special surprise be?” He questioned with a thoughtful tone that was hinted with playfulness.

Sigewinne quickly went to the door with tiny giggles. She turns to Wriothesley happily. “Just wait right here! Your surprise will be here in just a few moments!”

You struggled to hear what was being said in the room but seeing the door start to open you quickly jumped back from trying to listen to what was going on in the room.

Sigewinnie was giggling while looking at you which confused you but before you could even say anything to her she pushed you in the office which you struggled to catch yourself causing yourself to fall on the floor because you were still handcuffed.

Before the door closed you heard Sigewinne speak. “Have fun you two!” Before she happily walked away.

While you were quietly panicking Wriothesley was busy looking you up and down. He knew it was wrong to be shamelessly looking at you like a piece of meat but he couldn’t deny that the sight of you on the floor and handcuffed turned him on tremendously.

Wriothesley felt himself slowly getting hard just from the sight of you alone. He gave you a smug smile before walking over to you tilting your head up studying you before he spoke. “Now this is really a surprising little gift. I must say Sigewinne has outdone herself this time.”

Wriothesley’s words made you feel flustered and even more confused with the situation. “What are you talking about a really ‘surprising gift’? What's going on? Why was I so suddenly arrested?”

Wriothesley sighed letting go of your chin. “Well I sure don’t know what’s going on either. Trust me if I knew I would tell you but…”

You raised a brow at his words “But what…?” You were intrigued by his words and curious by what he meant.

Wriothsley found your confusion oh so cute making him chuckle a little. “I might as well enjoy it while a perfect gift is right here in front of me.” He gives you a slight smirk. Finally it clicked for you in those moments. You were the special gift that Wriothesley was talking about.

You didn’t know what to think. There were so many thoughts going through your mind. Eventually you finally speak. “So I'm not in trouble?” You questioned.

Wriothesley only sighs and shakes his head. “Nah you're not in trouble, what just happened was you were just tricked by Sigewinne is all.”

You sighed in relief. It felt like the biggest weight was lifted off your shoulders now that you knew that you weren’t in trouble at all. “Well I'm glad to know that I didn’t do anything wrong.” You said in a cheerful voice and gave a small smile.

Just for a second you looked down seeing a tent in his pants causing a blush to coat your cheeks.

When he realizes what you're looking at the next few moments are spent in awkward silence until Wriothesley finally spoke. “Y’know… you don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I understand if you don't want to and I'll uncuff you immediately.”

You stop him from saying anything else. “I don’t mind Wriothesley... I want to.”

Wriothesley doesn’t waste another second before he smashes his lips against yours which you quickly return the kiss.

Wriothesley picks you up and puts you on his desk to which you spread your legs so he can get between them. He places hot kisses and bites on your skin starting from your jaw down to your neck before he pauses and looks you in the eyes. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

You quickly nod not wanting him to stop what he was doing.

The second Wriothesley got your consent he didn't wait a second longer he quickly tore off whatever clothing you had on discarding it to the ground. He leans in for another kiss before snaking one arm around you and unclasping your bra with one hand.

Wriothesley began placing slow hot kisses on your breasts before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud while he used his hand to pinch and pull the other one.

You let out a small gasp quietly moaning out his name. “W-wriothesley… more please…”

Your words sounded heavenly to Wriothesley. It was like he was hearing an angel call out his name. He felt his pants feeling too tight and you of course felt just how much Wriothesley wanted you too.

You couldn't lie the feeling of Wriothesley being rock hard and pressed against your thigh made you heavily aroused. You could feel your panties dampening with slickness.

Wriothesley unlatched his mouth from your nipple with a wet pop sound. He began to strip you of the rest of your clothes. You shivered under his touch.

Wriothesley used his teeth to slowly slide down your panties while he looked you in the eyes. Finally he got to see just how wet you were for him. Your scent was just divine in his opinion. He grinned up at you. “You're soaked, and it's all for me? I'm truly flattered. Wriothesley teased with a chuckle making you blush and attempt to close your legs.

The second you try to close your legs Wriothesley stops you using a hand to keep them pushed apart. “I don't think I told you that you could close your legs did I?”

You whimpered quietly at his words. Wriothesley decides to stop teasing you and get straight to the point. He slowly slid a finger into your tight hole. Slowly he slid another in up until he finally had three fingers slowly pumping into you.

You bit your lip trying to hold back moans that attempted to escape your lips. Noticing this Wriothesley decides to take it up a notch leaning in and sucking on your clit slowly.

You threw your head back in ecstasy trying your best not to moan too loudly. Just when you were about to climax Wriothesley decided to pull away. This caused you to whimper quietly. “Wriothesley… what are you doing…?”

Wriothesley didn't say a word he only looked at you as he slowly licked his fingers clean of your slick. The sight of it made your core throb. You closed your legs rubbing your thighs together to try and get any small bit of friction.

Wriothesley only chuckled at this, finding it cute and endearing. “Just wait will you? You'll get what you want.”

Wriothesley made quick work of his clothes, discarding them somewhere in the corner with your clothes. Wriothesley picks you up off his desk before bending you over it. He positions himself behind you slowly rubbing his tip against your slicked folds. “You ready? I can stop now if you want but once I start I don't think I'll be able to stop…”

You didn't even listen to a word he said and instead only blurted out. “Wriothesley just please fuck me already!”

With those few words Wriothesley slowly pushed into your slicked pussy. He grunt at the feeling of your walls clamping around him tightly. “Fuck…” Wriothesley cursed under his breath. It was taking everything inside him not to just ram inside you right then and there and you bent across his desk hands cuffed behind your back wasn't doing him any help at all. “Mmm… just let me know when you're ready for me to move…”

The stretch of him bottoming out hurt for the first few moments but soon all you felt was pure pleasure. You lightly buck your hips back against him. “Wriothesley… you can move now…”

Wriothesley didn't wait a second longer. Although he tried to be gentle he couldn't help himself. He grabbed your hips and moved slowly at first bucking his hips into yours, gradually picking up his pace.

Your walls clamped down tightly around him making him groan. “Your so fuckin’ tight… you take me so well… like you were made just for me…” Wriothesley grunted into your ear.

All you could do was moan and cry out loudly while he had you seeing stars. His mushroom head tip kissing your cervix. “W-wriothesley! Ngh~! M- more I want more please!”

He continued pounding into you from behind as you felt your legs beginning to feel like jelly. If Wriothesley wasn't using his hands to keep you in place you were sure you would've collapsed.

The more Wriothesley tip kissed your cervix and g-spot the more the knot in your stomach felt it was going to snap.

Wriothesley reaches a hand down to rub your clit while he pounded into you. “You're doing so good f’me pretty girl… Think you could just a little longer f’me?”

The only thing you could do was whine and nod your head as he fucked you dumb on his cock.

It only takes a few more thrusts before Wriothesley has the knot in your stomach about to snap. “W-wriothesley! Wriothesley! M’gonna cum mph~ hah~! G-gonna…~” Your words were cut short as your vision went white and you clamped down hard around his cock.

Wriothesley grunts, biting down on your shoulder roughly and speaking with a muffled rough voice. “M’gonna cum inside kay?”

You were too fucked out to even care about what he was saying. Wriothesley soon felt the knot in his stomach snap as he gave one last thrust stilling his hips against yours as him hot seed spurted into you.

You could feel rope after rope of his cum painting your walls white. He stayed inside you for a few moments before he slowly pulled out. As Wriothesley pulled out some of his cum dripped out and onto the floor. Wriothesley sighed, plopping down in his desk chair and pulling you back down to sit on his lap.

Wriothesley saw the spot where he bit your shoulder was bleeding slightly so he gently licked the blood from the mark before placing a kiss to your cheek. “You did amazing… I might have to give you a raise just for that performance.” Wriothesley teased as you panted heavily, finally coming down from your high.

“You didn't do too bad yourself.” You teased back.

Wriothesley takes a key and unlocks the cuffs on your wrists. After he takes them off you rub the soreness in your wrists from having the cuffs on so long.

For a while you and Wriothesley stay snuggled up together before Wriothesley gets some towels to clean and dress both of you up.

Wriothesley lets you fall asleep in his arms while he caresses your hair.

Meanwhile somewhere in the fortress one of the staff members tried to go and speak with Wriothesley to talk about some business with him but Sigewinne stopped them. “I'm sorry I'm afraid the duke is unavailable at the moment but whatever business you have with him I can tell him as soon as he's free!” Sigewinne smiled sweetly at the staff member.

The man was getting grumpy and irritated with Sigewinne. “And why can I not see him? What's so important that the duke doesn't have time to speak to me!” The older man snapped at her.

Sigewinne just stayed calm and smiled. “Well he's enjoying his well deserved reward for the rest of the day but as I said earlier you can tell me and I'll tell him for you! But if you don't want to cooperate with that then I'm going to have to request you to leave!”

After a bit of arguing Sigewinne had shot the man with her gun, tranquilizing him for a while and asking the guards nearby to get him out of there.

The next day was pretty normal but this time Wriothesley invited you to have tea with him. As you were discussing a random topic with him something popped in your head. “Wriothesley, did you notice that nobody tried to bother us or speak to us yesterday while we were busy?” You said as you were still confused on the matter.

Wriothesley was about to speak when Sigewinne came in with some papers that Wriothesley had asked her to run and get for him earlier. She smiled at the two of you before speaking to Wriothesley. “I almost forgot to tell you! Some man wanted to speak to you yesterday but unfortunately I had to send him away as I told everyone in the building that you were busy doing something very important. The man didn't really like that response but I handled it! I hope you enjoyed your reward yesterday!”

Sigewinne said cheerfully before she skipped away going back to her office to finish check ups.

Wriothesley sighed and looked at you. “Well that gives you your answer.”

You giggled at his response. “Oh that girl is such a handful but what would we do without our perfect little Sigewinne!” You said while still giggling.

You and Wriothesley sit and laugh together enjoying the rest of your tea time as you discussed more topics.

I feel like I could've did much better with this but because it's late I'll just go ahead and post it I hope everyone enjoys it though this is my first time actually writing something for Wriothesley! I apologize if he's oc here!

Please do not plagiarize, copy, translate, or repost without asking any of my work. All work belongs to ©Lyneylover

#wriothesley #wriothesely genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #akanes bakery #kinktober #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #smut #wriothesley smut #genshin impact smut

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brynn-lear · 9 months ago

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When The Cypress Tree Wilts [Yandere!Kamisato Ayato x Reader]

Prompt: Kamisato Ayato, the sole survivor of Teyvat, struggles to cope with grief. He finds solace in the company of a fellow survivor, (Y/n), on the Astral Express. Although the two came from different universes, with him being a fictional character on (Y/n)'s end, he had grown fond of them. Perhaps too fond for Mister Yang's liking. He has seen this story played out once already. [Dedicated to @jessamine-rose]

Content Tags: (light?) yandere themes, major character death, we ain't trusting getting roses again after this one boys

For twenty-seven years, the cypress tree stood alone. Its branches, exhibiting complete fortitude to withstand erosion, have been a home for many animals. A guardian of many and a home for herons. It's no stretch to say its artistic seriousness made the Cypress tree the Warden of the Forest.

What happens, though, if the forest catches fire? What happens when everything it held dear—all the pillars ingrained in the firmest soil—is reduced to ashes in a single glance? When the forest's life-loving temperament disappears, just what is left of the guardian tree?

There's only one answer: the Cypress loses its Inazuman function. Harmony, balance, and peace wither away from the tree's symbolism. All that's left is the alternative Enkanomiyan myth: cypress trees must only be planted as a mourning tradition.

The Warden of Death...

Kamisato Ayato closed his eyes, making his umpteenth attempt to breathe steadily.

He sat upright on one of the Astral Express's couches. It's been more than eight months since he had found himself as the sole survivor of his world. So far, everything that had been told to him had been unreal.

Gone were the clan, his retainers, and his dearest sister. None were left as he watched their remains swept by the wind. Memories of Ayaka's burnt hair and cheeks crumbling refused to leave his every waking moment. He tried desperately to hold on, but the ashes kept slipping through his fingers until his family's white heron was reduced to a lifeless husk. Her feathers were plucked too soon.

He cannot have her back. He cannot have his clan back. His world was forever unsalvageable.

That was his fate as the Remembrance's souvenir. He can carry the weight of survival while the memokeepers preserve Teyvat's memories.

But at least he has someone in a similar position as himself.

"Mister Yang," you called over the older man hushedly. Welt glanced at the mopping mess and knew just what you were hinting at. Better to alert someone who can assist him better.

"Are you alright, Mister Kamisato?" Welt asked, sitting beside Ayato. He passed his cane onto his other hand so he could pat his shoulder. Ayato only laughed stiffly.

Thankfully, it's not an entirely hopeless cause. There was, at least, a silver lining to make up for it. No matter how dim the glimmer was, he at least had the Express's understanding.

And yours as well.

Ab███████, h█ed his pl█as.

"—to, you can still think this through!"

"Stand back, Himeko."

Just like him, you lost your world, too. You came from a fabric of existence wherein he was deemed fictional. A video game called "Genshin Impact", as you called it. You were terrified when you discovered your universe crumbled because of some time-travel paradox. But in spite of your enormous losses, curiosity triumphed over fear. You would prefer exploring the galaxy than thinking about how much work you still need to do for your college classes.

But today? You rest. After all, the express is landing in Penacony.

While Welt did his best to provide consolation, you handed them warm drinks. Ayato gave you a gentle nod.

He gave it a quick sip. Unlike Himeko's, your brew was more tame. Not at all professionally made— it's everyday coffee— but that adds more to its appeal. Ayato politely wiped possible stains near his lips. You can't help but notice how his mole was placed below it.

He's definitely a video game character, that's for sure. They don't make people this attractive in your old world.

Just holding the coffee you made… feeling its warmth in his hands… It gave him strength to speak.

Ayato sighed. "Apologies, I simply… will take longer to recover my mental composure. I am not usually this easy to rattle or ramble often. I deeply apologize for the trouble I caused the express thus far."

"I do wonder if I had wronged the Gods. I committed plenty of misdeeds in the eyes of the Shogun, yet they were pardoned. But perhaps the Heavenly Principles…" He muttered, thinking he was inaudible. More than half a year without his retainers and constant troubles had dulled his vigilance.

Welt shook his head. "Do not be harsh on yourself by culminating these harmful… ideals, Mister Kamisato."

"I agree." You said. "At any rate, you'll end up miserable for the entire month if you keep overthinking what that Silver Wolf said."

His mood had been visibly dampened since Silver Wolf's last visit. She claims that he was "destined for ruin based on Elio's script" and that it was better he knew about it now rather than later.

Ayato looked away. "I suppose so… This wishful thinking brings me nothing but thoughts such as to save my one and only sister, with this pitiable strength— how can I recreate the past?"

Welt grew cold with mild horror. Then, he cleared his throat after a suspiciously long pause.

The past Welt knows is not the past he wants a repeat of.

"Why focus on that when the future awaits you?" He said, but with how the older man refused to meet his lilac eyes, there must be more he won't let on.

"Your reluctance… Does this have something to do with what the memokeeper previously stated?"

"...What Black Swan said?" You tilted your head.

Welt sighed. "So many things must be runnin' around your head... I don't usually encourage drinking, but maybe you should have a few shots later."

"I shall consider it, but I must know now, Mister Yang." He looked at him. "What did she mean when she said I was an alternate version of your acquaintance, Otto Apocalypse?"

Welt coughed up his coffee.

Re██y his angu█████ c███s.

"-to, don't do this. You can't bring ██████ back—"

“Your farcical tangents will distract me no more. Do not play parlor tricks with that cane of yours. My mind is sound, and my decision is final."

"..."

Ever since Ayato was dubbed as a new Nameless alongside you, he's been bombarded with both blunt and subliminal messages of his supposed "true" nature. One faction agrees he's an existence not meant to be trifled, while the other wants to cultivate him into a villain.

You don't know much about that. Unlike whatever hero's journey he had been experiencing— you're detached from trouble. Your new life was spent writing, dressing up with March, eating with Stelle, and reading through Dan Heng's data banks about constellations & other aesthetically pleasing biological entries. You were a quiet existence. Black Swan remarked you're amicable for someone who cannot return to normalcy. You embrace change far better than others.

But you think that's because there's enough grieving for the Express to carry; they don't have room to acknowledge yours…

"You're Kamisato Ayato, not Otto." You told him firmly. "Don't overthink what she said."

"It is not as if I do not know that, how—"

"No, there are no buts or howevers; that's final."

Ayato laughed softly, no longer tense.

"Understood. I'm your Kamisato Ayato, right?" He tilted his head like a dog.

"Yes, yes, you're our Ayato." You sighed.

He's a lot cuter when relaxed.

You shook your head.

No, better not let this develop into something else. You don't want to have a crush on a guy that's essentially no different from a flatmate.

Furthermore, you exclusively confide in him. You'd rather your relationship as each other's anchor remains the same in the future. After all, you're not the type to let everyone in the room know your baggage. So was Ayato, but... His trauma lends itself to the extremes.

While you were lost in thought, adorable footsteps strutted closer.

Angry, adorable footsteps.

"What are you guys doing drinking coffee?! The train is about to jump soon!!!"

Pompom huffed. They put their little paws on their hips, scoffing at you three. You apologized profusely, forgetting that your trip to Penacony was in ten minutes.

"Sorry, Pompom." Welt sheepishly said.

Ayato looked at Pompom earnestly. "So am I."

"Whatever, okay, but you better change later! You can't join a wedding wearing those clothes!!!"

You frowned. You were already dressed, though. You thought you already looked perfect for the evening. Maybe you should've tried harder... Perhaps you were too relaxed about this...

"Oh, but I'm sorry…" You told them, frowning.

Pompom shook their head, panicking. "Not you, (Y/n), you're always so harsh on yourself— you always know how to dress pretty. I'm talking about these two boys!"

They stared at each other before laughing awkwardly, provoking the conductor further.

Pompom growled, grabbing the broom.

"You know what?! Get off the sofa! Change! NOW!!!"

Abu████ce, stir this b███ft ████e,

"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM?!? HE WAS LIKE A BROTHER TO US!!!"

It's clear that someone isn't having the best time.

Penacony weddings are too lively for Ayato's tastes. But much like shadows, nobody can evade the bright lights.

He nearly tumbled when he saw you. By the looks of his pale face, the lively atmosphere had been draining him senseless. While he maintained his elegant demeanor when talking to Aventurine (and failing), you were refilling your cup at the food aisle. Once Ayato reached you, he desperately wanted to place his head on your shoulder.

“Please… lend me… Five…”

You smiled and opened your arms.

"Don't speak, I got you."

He leaned on your shoulder.

The five seconds you assumed were startlingly morphing into five minutes. You can't feign as a warm statue for that long. While you worry about your willpower, Ayato sank deeper into his thoughts to meditate.

From this angle, he looked like a resting cat.

"You okay, Ayato?"

"The SoulGlad, it's so…"

Ah, right. You figured he might've drunk.

"Not once had it been a passing thought that excessive alcohol and fire displays would be a common wedding practice. The culture shock is astounding." Ayato leered quietly. "Thankfully, I no longer care about putting on a social mask. I cannot stomach participating in copious amounts of… festivities."

You laughed. Is it bad you find his suffering entertaining?

"Is it so different from how they conduct weddings in Inazuma?"

"Hard to say… The Clan may be focused on cultural ceremonies, but I purposely avoided weddings. It helps steer clear talks of arranged marriages. I can only name Chisato's as an exception on top of my head." Ayato placed a hand on his chin.

He continued. "Extravagant weddings such as this had a decline for two years. The dismal lives of vision wielders immensely affected how much pyrotechnics and other displays were available. Any commonplace joy could be marked as vulgarity by the Shogun at any second... All those charges just for an insincere ceremony."

"I… See." You assumed the answer was a resounding no. "Sounds like you're against marriages of convenience."

Ayato pulled away, looking at you.

"Not entirely. I understand why it's a necessary evil, given our politics." He said. "But I still firmly believe that when there's true love, nothing should stand in its way."

His eyes reveal that he's starting to sober up. In Penacony, it was probably a beneficial phenomenon. Might as well give away hangover relief if you market alcohol as the icon of your dreamscape.

"(Y/n), this may sound peculiar, but I glimpsed at an apparel store nearby."

You nodded slightly. He knew you had an affinity for fashion. When you visited the Xianzhou Luofu, he mapped out stores that might interest you. Ayato likes the way you dress. Sometimes, he would even approach you for a consult.

"And? What did you see? Did you take a picture?"

He groggily nodded and pulled out his phone.

"Please, take a look."

…

You blinked, turning red.

"Ayato, these are wedding dresses…"

"I do know that, yes, but don't you believe some of these would suit you? Oh— this one is a particular favorite of mine."

…

He said it so casually that you were beginning to doubt if you were insane. Do friends casually daydream about another friend in a wedding dress? Is that a norm for platonic relationships? You looked away and gently pushed his phone away.

… You hate how you liked what he picked out.

And you know he noticed it, too. Cheeky bastard.

"Let's hold that thought for now."

"May I ask why?" He tilted his head, slightly pouting. "I think a traditional white wedding dress would compliment you. Are you, perhaps, seeing flaws I have missed?"

"Y-You're really not getting it, huh…"

Whatever was troubling you, he wasn't about to dissect it. His thoughts were reduced to simplicity that evening, just down to you look gorgeous tonight. The two of you should extend your visit to Penacony for much longer. It is always night here…

How unfair that you dressed so prettily; he wished it was for his eyes alone. The delicately lace-adorned pastel pink dress suits you well. It felt like a grave sin for him to keep staring at the delicate sapphire necklace resting atop your neck. Not to add, a few strands of your hair framed your face, and your hair was tastefully swept into a neat (h/c) bun. What completes the look is the strappy heels.

When will it be your wedding, (Y/n)?

Your face contorted. "How drunk are you?"

Ayato smirked curtly and shrugged back to what March calls his "nobleman smile", gazing at you intently. You weren't sure if he was listening to you anymore.

"Enough."

That was his reply, short and simple.

As long as your eyes mirror his, it's enough for him.

“LAAADDIEESSS AND GENTLEEEMEEENNN AND OTHER LIVING CREAAATURREEESSS!!!!”

A rather shrill voice shouted through a microphone. It's the wedding's host. From the volume, anyone can discern that it came from the event room. You placed your cup down. It's that time— noises from excited guests, lonesome people, in particular, were shared around. No one can miss their hands, which tremble with excitement.

You jolted.

Shit, that's Sparkle. You promised Stelle and March that you four would take BFF pictures in the costume photo booth before the final farewells. Something about silly masks and hats. Miss it, and you're guaranteed to enter the next fight without a shield. Worse, you might wake up with a bat-shaped wound on your head.

You grabbed Ayato and swerved past the crowd.

“(Y-(Y/n)?!”

Ayato's mind went blank.

You voluntarily held his hand. Gloved hands. Still, he thanked March that she gave him a pair for the occasion. His hands were sweating, and his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

Public displays of affection are generally subdued in his old world. Handholding raises questions regarding those reared into nobility like he was. His upbringing was far from liberal, so he did his best to give his sister more freedom, yet he is not accustomed to this skinship.

He gripped yours back weakly. Ayato can't stop staring at your determined expression. He gulped. Can you sense it? Are you secretly enjoying this? Do you know what you're doing?

Can you feel your effect on him?

He's not just drunk.

He might be hopelessly in love with you.

Ayato grew hotter by the second. His breath was stripping away bit by bit. This epiphany was consuming him. He's been trying to deny it for as long as possible, but how laughable is it to do so when he had often pictured himself in peaceful household situations beside you? Can such desires be kept in the shadows, much like his Shuumatsuban work?

He wants you.

Kamisato Ayato wants you as his sole partner.

Wherever you're taking him, he'll follow you to the end, down to the last seconds of this script.

"THE BRIDE IS ABOUT TO THROW THE BOUQUET!!!"

Many lonely guests packed together like penguins. When the bride spun the bouquet around her palm, their reactions ranged from hopeful and cheerful to downright competitive and miserable. They thought a few flowers would ensure marriage, which is a little absurd, but who are you to spoil their fun? Simply because they obstruct your path does not warrant your discreet resentment—

Ayato stopped, halting you as well in the process.

"Ngh…?!"

You looked back, and such an act almost felt as forbidden as Orpheus' most egregious mistake.

If there was a semblance of variety in those women's faces, they were unified in one fell swoop. Their faces soured when the bouquet was passed down to its next owner. Worse, the flowers sat so beautifully in his arms.

That's right. His.

Those red roses…

"AALLLLRIIIIGHTTT! IT SEEMS MISTER KAMISATO GOT IT!!!" Sparkle cheered on. She had a crooked smile on her face. It didn't ring as malicious; instead, she was conflicted before she donned a playful mask. "And sheesh, while holding (Y/n) 's hand too— CONGRATS TO THE SOON-TO-BE-S!!!"

Ah, damn it. Instead of this, you wish people had applauded when you presented your thesis. No matter how crestfallen some were, they were at least good sports. They clapped and teased; you even spotted Himeko raising you a glass at your shared table, laughing. Beside her, Welt did you the courtesy of reminding you that you're hands were linked together. You gawked, pulling away as though Ayato's hand burned. Immediately, he cleared his throat and looked away.

To Ayato, this was the only sign he needed.

With enough time and effort, a leafless tree could still be saved, new birds could still migrate, and an abandoned forest could still be restored. Gradually, he was discovering a fresh cause for optimism instead of a substitute for the people he had lost. There he was, Kamisato Ayato, a hidden custodian of Inazuman traditions, with his feet rooted in a foreign land. Though not very stable, his groundwork keeps him on course.

If he could revive the Kamisato Clan on its brink, how can he not do the same for his life? It's just like what his late father said:

Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

As long as a hand still reaches out for him, he'll do anything to grasp it.

Unfortunately for you, it was yours that held his so tightly.

Hence, whether you like it or not, amidst the guests' congratulatory remarks and the bride's laughs, he had made up his mind.

Ayato will pursue you until you wear the gown of his dreams.

More people trailed behind Sparkle and the bride as they went down the stage and to Ayato. You made an effort to get in touch with him to return to your starting point. However, it was challenging, given the number of people around. To hear what bashful comments he said was an even taller order.

That was until the bride dragged her new husband towards you.

"Here, dearie, the garter!"

You blinked.

"What?"

"You know the tradition, bouquet, and garter— I know it ain't as exciting as a bouquet, but ya can't be a pair without it." The husband grinned. "C'mon, take it!"

Your eyes widened.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly—"

"Aww, please, do you think we'll get in the way of love when we just got married?" The bride joked. Even though you don't know her well—you just know she's Stelle's friend—you didn't like how this sounded. "C'mon, take it! Don't make poor Mister Kamisato sad."

Did Ayato request this?

You looked back at him. He was smiling at his fellow guests.

He must've made a drunken joke.

"Alright, I'll have it." You'll be a team player, too.

Unbeknownst to you, Ayato's heart was brimming with joy as soon as you accepted it. You twisted the garter around your hand and tied it into a bracelet, and his eyes wrinkled. His face was beaming, and the guests warmly pointed out that it was definitely NOT the drink.

You laughed softly.

Maybe Stelle wouldn't get too angry after she sees these "loots".

Unfortunately, unlike the worlds you once immersed yourself in, your life was not a game. This second try was no exception.

There's a stark difference between the people he loves and himself, Ayato later found. The latter cannot sustain a better life for those he warded, while the former cannot attain the luxury of a peaceful death.

Readers would have gone crazy over how the author mercilessly punished and blamed the main character's dreams if his life had been a work of fiction. If it were genuinely one, he would venture to say that the systematic fate that everyone else was subjected to is the primary criticism.

His mother, his father, his sister, his clan.

And then you?

Ayato had already lost everything twice.

There's no restraint left for him to hold on to.

So…

"Mister Kamisato, please hear us out!" March begged, the shrill of her voice becoming hauntingly akin to a dull knife— repeatedly cutting through ears in prolonged agony.

Ayato scoffed. His blue locks framed his face as he gazed down.

He's heard enough.

Why shouldn't he challenge his fate?

Why shouldn't he challenge Elio's script?

"Whether I permit you or not, there won't be an intelligent word out of you."

No other voice came to disparage him. This silence was loud. As if a voice was missing. Ayato looked at the ground.

He had almost forgotten he had used his former "brother" as a sacrifice. Silently, he thanked Dan Heng- or perhaps Dan Feng- for all that he had done for him and his "bride".

This act angered the rest. His temporary family brandished theirs in unison, with Stelle moving to the front. His response greatly saddened March. But Mister Yang? He was frozen. He didn't seem to move an inch. The older man looked deep into his lilac eyes. There must be more he won't let on.

The past Welt knows is not the past he wants a repeat of.

But unfortunately, history is a vicious cycle— and it repeats itself.

He materialized his haran geppaku futsu, letting Dan Heng's blood drip while its azure glow shine bright. But what shone brighter was the cryogenic "coffin" behind him.

You may have lost your battle with this curse, but you have helped him not lose his.

You were looking out at a night with a full moon in your last moments. The pitch-black moon seemed to loom life itself. As you strolled alone, every step wet your feet, but there's a persistent sense that you might have been staring at your reflection the entire time despite the void's lack of offerings.

It's always night in Penacony. You have heard that innumerable times. Night never sleeps. The chitchat never stops. The tango doesn't halt. But time stands still for you as the rest of the world rejoices.

But Penacony was not your resting place. It was the Xianzhou.

How unfortunate that you forget that in your last moments. Mara has a knack for erasing the memory of its victims. The only solace that your admirer gets is that your previous recollections are of him, of you, and of the bouquet and garter you received.

At least before you closed your eyes, you thought of him.

Ayato gazed at your mara-struck face once more.

Beauty is eternal. Despite the chill seeping into your bones, your clothes were nothing short of ethereal. A traditional white wedding dress, floor-length with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt, would've been given more justice if the wearer was not frozen in time. The laces and beadwork detailing were reminiscent of sakura petals, with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves.

You're holding a bouquet of roses mixed with sakura...

Just like you, Kamisato Ayato always had a good eye for aesthetics.

It's a shame the little life left in his eyes was wilting away.

It's a shame that this wedding never happened.

It's a shame you told him you needed more time to think.

It's a shame you're frozen in time.

However...

As long as a hand still reaches out for him, he'll do anything to grasp it. And Yaoshi has plenty to reach for.

With that, using the blood of the Vidyadhara he had slain, he summoned his new Aeon.

One that he does not particularly believe in. And if he had never placed his blind faith in the Shogun, he doubts he would do the same in Yaoshi.

So, Aeon of Abundance, with the former High Elder's blood on his hands...

Prove him wrong.

"Abundance, heed my pleas,

Repay my anguished cries.

Abundance, stir this bereft peace,

Awaken love from death's disguise."

Bring his soon-to-be Kamisato (Y/n) back to him.

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shellswritesstuff · 4 months ago

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squad damocles hand holding hcs!!! i love these three so much

꒰sᴍ𝟸 ᴛʀɪᴏ ʜᴄs! - ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ s/ᴏ꒱ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ah how sweet and heartwarming!!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ pls hold these guys close, the horrors of the 40k universe must do numbers to their mental,,, id faint even seeing a cherub HSAJK-

Gadriel

Tries to be nonchalant about it. 'Oops, didn't mean to touch your hand..' type deal.

You don't buy it for a moment, though. If it was such an accident, why is it happening for the third time this week?

After a few more attempts at playing the cool guy facade, you go ahead and make the first move.

"You're so cute, Gadriel." You shoot him a knowing look, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Oh, and that was an accident, too."

You'd run away, leaving the space marine behind.

Next time you wouldn't get away that easy. He'd grab your hand just before you would take off, and offer a rare smile.

Bonus points if Chairon happens to be walking by when it all goes down. He is NEVER gonna let him live that one down! "Oi, Lover Boy."

Chairon

A lot more straightforward than Gadriel. Who knows if he'll be here tomorrow? He makes it a point to tell you how he feels before it's too late.

Chairon holds your hands, one of his more than enough to encompass both of yours. He'll bring them to his face, your knuckles feeling the texture of his surprisingly soft lips.

He's a romantic at heart, one in a million in this world. Will pick you an exotic flower from whatever plant he was dispatched to. (This may or may not have lead to a fire in the barge. Captain Acheran scolded him about "getting laid at th expense of his brothers.")

He now settles for pretty rocks. A radiation risk waiting to happen, but I digress.

"I made sure to thoroughly clean off the guts this time." Chairon would lean against the door, surprising you with an early return. "I and don't just mean myself."

Titus

Imagine you're out assisting his squad on a mission. (Okay, lore accurate maybe not but work with me here. ;;) You hang back, providing fire from behind Titus, picking off any snipers.

You're too concentrated on your lover that you failed to notice the two hormagaunts jumping for your skull.

Titus, the knight in shining blueberry armor he is, rushes over to your rescue. He throws the first tyranid to the dirt, stomping it flat. You heard its thorax collapse under the weight of his boot, it's structure cracking and crumbling like rotten wood.

Once that was dealt with, Titus snatched the second bug out of the air. He put his hands on either side of its head, plunging his thumbs into it's now oozing eye sockets. As you fell backwards, your lover ripped the monster in half. The sight of it's organs stretching to accommodate the tear; it almost made you throw up.

"Are you alright?" Titus dropped the corpse to the ground, forgetting it in favor of you. You gazed up at him, your bloodied protector held out a hand for you to take.

And that's the story of how you first held hands with Titus. It was a lot more romantic to the man then it was to you.

#ah yes big guy big heart trope my beloved #i saw this as i am actively drafting a titus in heat fic for an ask HSHAHA #warhammer 40k #space marine ii #space marine 2 #warhammer 40000 #demetrian titus #demetrian titus x reader #titus x reader #chairon 40k #chairon x reader #gadriel 40k #gadriel x reader #warhammer x reader #warhammer headcanons #warhammer imagines #space marine 2 x reader

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cherryredstars · 1 year ago

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so I seen you 1k prompt ! And my eye gyat (😭 I need help ) something’s And I see you have a boss reader and I was just thinking . What about a boss FM reader who’s is dominant like 😏 think about it! and Miguel is like a civilian that is married to reader because of his love not because Of this look, his built body, no it how he laugh his, his eyes, the way he caring, and his ass personality 🤭..

so what about a sub/dom Miguel , like your game , and your assistant fic 😌☝️ can you mix these two pls !!

1k Prompts and Company Matters Extra

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Handjobs, Blowjobs, Unintended Edging/Orgasm Denial, Bondage, Praise

Summary: Appreciate your employees!

A/N: Subby Migs!!! Welcome back, dear!!!

Word Count: 1.7K (Unedited)

Part 1. Part 1.5, Part 2

You needed a break.

The paper work wasn’t helping your budding headache, and you were in desperate need of some coffee. As if he knew of your distress, Miguel knocks on your door. He slips in, a coffee cup in his hand. It makes your shoulders relax in relief, watching him as he smiles at you and places the coffee on your desk.

“My savior,” You mutter while taking the coffee and sipping it. Just how you like it.

He shrugs, looking at the ground as he chuckles with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “It’s nothing. Just thought you’d need a little pick me up.”

You hum around the edge of your cup, eyes scanning Miguel. He’s wearing a grey button up that stretches over his wide torso, a loose charcoal black tie to match his slacks. You cross your legs as you pull the cup away, licking at your bottom lip. With your keen eyes, you can see how Miguel’s eyes track the movement, eyes slightly darkening before he blinks it away. He stutters a bit as he goes to excuse himself, turning around and giving you a perfect view of his ass. The way he looks right now has to be considered extremely unprofessional.

“Miguel,” You call out, standing up from your desk. Miguel turns around quickly, looking eager to meet your demands. “Come take a seat.”

You have no chairs in your office besides your own. Made it that way to make snobby businessmen uncomfortable when they come to your office to pester you. You can see Miguel’s obvious confusion on where he’s supposed to sit. His lips part in realization when you pull your large leather chair back slightly, and he walks over silently. He walks past you, watching you the whole time as he moves to sit. His eyes don’t leave you even as your hand pushes at the center of his chest, making him fall into the chair.

“How about you? Where will you sit?” He whispers out, nervous at being so close to you. He can still feel your hand at his chest.

You smile down at him, an almost predatory one. How sweet, still wanting to take care of you. “Right here.”

Miguel’s breath catches in his throat when you throw your leg over his thighs, caging him in. You’re hovering over his lap, and you’re thankful that you decided to wear your flared slacks instead of your pencil skirt. Your arm is thrown lazily over Miguel’s shoulder, your other hand toying with his loose tie.

Miguel swallows loudly as he stares at you, “What are you doing?”

“Y’know, I appreciate you so much, Miguel.” You ignore, eyes watching the way his tie unravels with a light tug. “You’re so sweet to me. Such a good boy for me.”

Miguel lets out a shuddering breath, squirming under you as he grips the chair’s arms tightly. His knuckles are blinding white. “I-it’s my job.”

You let out an airy giggle that makes his brain fuzzy. His eyes are lidded and hazy as he watches your finger trail down his chest, slowly starting to undo a few buttons. Your hands burn against his exposed chest, and you can feel his rapid heart beat against your fingers. You smirk, leaning in and mouthing at his jawline. It makes Miguel gasp out, hands twitching to grab onto you. Your hands continue to rub at his chest as your mouth comes to his ear.

You give the lobe a small nip, breath hot against the shell of it, “Let me show you how much I appreciate you.”

You can feel Miguel’s thighs twitch under you, pushing away from him. He almost whines as you get up, but it dies when you slowly part his legs and sink to the ground. You try to not laugh when he whimpers out an ‘oh shit’ as he watches you. Your hands rub at his clothed thighs, moving up until they’re at his belt. They slowly start to undo it, pulling the black leather out of his belt loops as you look up at him.

“Would you like that?” You ask, basically cooing at him. He nods quickly muttering out a breathy ‘yes’. Good boy.

You reward him by undoing his zipper, pride coursing through your veins when he instantly lifts his hips so you can pull them down. As you slip them down to his thighs, your eyes zero in on the large bulge in his briefs. He whines when he finds you staring at it so intensely, his cheeks burning. Your hand ghosts over it, and he can feel your nails scraping against him gently. He curses softly when he bucks his hips into your hand, breathing in deeply.

Your hand slips into his underwear, and he groans when your warm hand wraps around him. You pull him out gently, pumping him in an agonizingly slow pace. He cries out when your thumb brushes over his slit and you snap your face up to him. You coo at him, letting him go and standing up again. He whimpers at you as you let go of him, an apology is at the tip of his tongue. However, he quiets when you take the tie from around his neck.

“Be a good boy and open your mouth for me.” You say sweetly, and he blinks up at you as he slowly relaxes his jaw.

You hum, rewarding him with a slow caress to his cheek. He melts into the touch, but his eyes instantly widen as you shove the tie in between his parted lips and start tying it around his head. He speaks around it, his talk muffled.

You bring a finger to your lips, shushing him gently. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Never know when someone might come up here.”

He nods in understanding, watching as you pry his hands away from the arm rests. You grab his belt, starting to tie his wrists together. “And this… is just for fun.”

Once the belt is secured, you sink back down to your knees again. He slumps in the chair, manspreading so you can sit comfortably between his legs. Your hand slowly begins to pump him again, and you can hear him sigh against his tie. You give him slow pumps, occasionally massaging under his mushroom head. It makes him whine and buck, eyes fluttering from the pleasure as he watches you play with him. You continue to praise him as you work him, muttering about how pretty he looks.

Once you begin to tire of playing with him, you suck his tip into your mouth. It makes him moan out, tugging at his restraints. His hands itch to tangle in your hair as you bob your head around him. You take more and more of him into your mouth, pausing when he hits the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and try to take more of him in, and he moans loudly while bucking his hips. It makes you gag around him, and you push on his abdomen warningly. He whines apologies through the tie. They die down as his head rolls back, a dragged groan filling the room as you shake your head slightly. His eyes roll to the back of his head, nails leaving crescents into his palms as you move your head up and down with vigor.

You can feel him twitch in your mouth, and you smirk from around him. Miguel’s whole body tenses in preparation of the orgasm that’s about to wash over him, babbling nonsense around his gag. You move faster, closing your eyes and letting him hit the back of your throat repeatedly. Miguel’s hand clenches and unclenches, hips lifting off of the chair as h-

Knock, knock.

Both you and Miguel freeze. The knocking continues once again, and the both of you look at each other. Miguel has a wide eyed and pleading look in his eyes. Is he begging you to stop or continue? You slowly pull off of Miguel as the person on the other side of the door calls your name, your thumb wiping away the spit from the side of your mouth. Miguel lets out a muffled whine, a pained look in his eyes as his poor cock aches with his built up release. You quickly throw your hand over his mouth to muffle him further, glaring at him as you hold a finger to your mouth.

Both of you stay silent, until the person on the other side curses, mumbling something about forgetting a file at their desk. The sound of footsteps retreating meet your ears, and the two of you relax as it becomes quiet again. Miguel’s chest is heaving, brows furrowed. He whines again when you pull your hand away from his mouth. His orgasm has completely died down, and he bucks his hips up in hopes to lure you back in.

Hope jumps in his chest when your hands reach down, but it quickly dies as you begin to undo his belt. His eyes are desperate as he mumbles ‘please’ around the tie and shakes his head. You coo at him, massaging his wrists before tucking him back into his pants and underwear before zipping him up. You button up his shirt again, removing the tie around his mouth last.

“I know, I know. But break time is over. You gotta get back to your desk before that person comes back.” You shush as he begins to beg you to finish what you started. You caress his cheek lovingly, taking the wet tie and stuffing it into his pant pocket. He whines again, but nods his head in understanding as you ease him up from the chair. You give his cheek a small peck, before he’s rounding your desk and walking towards the door.

You sit back in your chair, sighing as you pick up a pen and grab a piece of paper. Miguel readjusts his clothing as he opens the door, making sure he looks appropriate.

“Miguel.”

He turns quickly, gulping and half-hoping you call him back. But instead, you’re leaning against your desk with your coffee cup in your hand. “Be a doll and warm up my coffee.”

Miguel takes a deep breath, his grip on the doorknob tightening.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Taglist: @x0tw0d57 @sukioyakio @narcissa-anastasia @nikkiam16-blog @strawberryjuice9 @hexqueensupreme @babeyling @realhotgirlshitah @chichimisaki @caslistener @newerggps426 @sinners-98-world @tonystarksmonkeywrench @monkeyformingi @honeymarvel @luv3r999

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604to647 · 1 month ago

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Tiny Tim

A The Rockford Portfolio Christmas Special

5.2K/ Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Tim takes you to the precinct Christmas party.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship, soft!Tim, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous). Semi public sex, fingering, unprotected PiV, thrill of being caught, alcohol consumption (reader is tipsy, but this is a devoted relationship with deep trust, not dubcon). Reader wears a dress. Bad 'A Christmas Carol' jokes.

A/N: This is a holiday love letter to all you lovelies who read The Rockford Portfolio 🥹🥹 Thank you thank you for all the love you’ve shown these two - they are one of my favourites to write, I'm always so encouraged by the sweet response I receive on their stories 🥹 This instalment is probably the only one I’ve written that makes more sense if you’ve read some of the others - there are a few callbacks, little winks for those of you who enjoy their stories 🤭 Thank you thank you again and happy holidays! 🎄

Now available: Fic companion Christmas carol 🎵 Detective, It’s Cold Outside 🎵

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

Tim watches the scene from across the bar.

It’s like a Renaissance fresco come to life, a modern-day depiction of royal court with you as the monarch at its centre - sitting up high, you’re perched on a barstool looking radiant and gorgeous in a pretty holiday dress that drapes off your curves and cascades over your legs; your feet dangle off the ground, swinging to and fro without a care. You’re surrounded by a crowd of cops who have arranged themselves in a semi-circle with you at their epicentre - those on your left and right stand or sit on their own stools, while the officers in front of you fan across a stretch of tables. Every person is angled towards you like a moth trying to fly closer to their flame, all eyes are trained, adoring and fawning, on your pretty face as you laugh and finish up what you were saying. They hang on your every word, and when you make eye contact or touch your hand to an arm in order to emphasize a point in your story, Tim swears the lucky recipient literally lights up a little.

Tim wonders if he should have told you that you’re kind of a celebrity at the precinct. No, not because he’s yours. Yes, it tickled his colleagues to no end that the gruff grizzly bear detective that was Timothy Rockford had been tamed by your gentle hand; they had seen evidence of his previously thought nonexistent softness and docility whenever you would visit. But he could never claim credit for the esteem in which you were beheld – your renown was all your own.

Even before tonight’s party, there had been a tittering among the various law enforcement departments that you would be in attendance. Those who had only seen you in passing or heard tales of how Detective Rockford’s lady love had provided much direct or indirect assistance to their cases, were eager to meet you. No sooner had the two of you entered the bar where tonight’s party was being held than you were swept out of Tim’s arms to make the acquaintance of what seemed like a never-ending queue of his colleagues. It’s been a while now since Tim lost track of you, sulking solitarily until his partner, Detective Arnold Calloway, came over with a conciliatory beer and pointed to where you’re currently holding court.

The team from Cipher, who had used your Graffiti Alley photos to decrypt the Pie Distribution playbook, are at your feet - ignoring the now lukewarm drinks on their tabletops in favour of trading quippy witticisms with you in between their rounds of raucous laughter at your jokes.

O’Brien and his team who had made up Surveillance Teams Alpha and Bravo the night you obtained information from Buchanan’s girlfriend in the restaurant bathroom that would lead to the apprehension of The Accountant, flank your left. Whenever you tilt your radiant face towards them, they take full advantage - commanding your attention so they can regale you with more detailed stories about the busts and raids that resulted from your intel.

Tech guys that used the meta data from your aquarium photos to track the movements of Grandma Ursula’s henchman, resulting in the retrieval of the missing briefcase that broke open the case, gather to your right – keeping a watchful eye on the cocktail glass you hold in your hand, prepared to replace it with a ready refill at a moment’s notice should you desire.

The head of Financial Crimes and a few of her analysts who run what has affectionately been named “Operation Spring Roll” (per your request), an intricate and far-reaching money laundering investigation kicked off by your keen observations at The Midnight Palace, slip in to occupy the empty seats next to their colleagues in Cipher, bringing appetizers and bowls of bar snacks as offerings.

Every single one of your admirers appears entranced by your charm and the warmth of your bright aura; convinced that you’re the wittiest, most intriguing person in this bar, they loathe to be torn away from your sweet face and the way it’s alight with genuine joy and holiday mirth. Tim is all too familiar with how they feel. He starts to make his way across the bar – individually or collectively, his coworkers have bogarted your attention all night and he’s had enough. He misses you.

Tim barely makes his presence known, arriving and stopping at the periphery of your audience where your eyes find him immediately, as if drawn to him.

Almost impossibly, your entire face lights up even more and you hold your arm out in his direction; with a hypnotic dance of your hand that’s part flirty wave, part sprinkling of fairy dust over your devotees, you beckon him, “Timmy!!!”

He sees a few cops mouth, smirking, “Timmy?!” and Chen from Cipher actually puts her hands together in prayer and says Thank You to a deity above for this gift with which Tim is sure he will be mercilessly teased later. But Tim doesn’t care. No matter how you call, he will always come.

Threading through the maze of chairs and bodies, he reaches you just as you step off the bottom rung of your stool – catching you easily right before you throw your arms around his neck.

“Hi Detective,” you coo, melodic voice a whisper against his lips.

“Hi Shutterbug,” Tim radiates a happiness that you feel as much as you can see - you’re finally back in his arms.

“Timmy. They all want to talk to me about police stuff, and I’m running out of things I know,” your silly tipsy face conveys some unwarranted trepidation, as if there was any chance in hell you could ever disappoint this group of smitten cops.

“You want to know how to make a bunch of cops scatter?” the twinkle of mischief in Tim’s eyes is mirrored back to him in yours as you nod, nuzzling your nose against his in conspiratorial agreement.

He kisses you.

And not in a tempered and chaste way one might expect at a work event, where superiors are in attendance and professionalism might be monitored even while off the clock.

But a full out, no holds barred, deep and passionate kiss that leaves Tim’s colleagues slack-jawed in shock, some even avert their gaze, embarrassed – as if they know they will have to staunchly deny having witnessed this side of their co-worker should they ever be interrogated about its existence. Tim’s mouth opens and wordlessly demands entry – you happily obey your detective’s directive. It’s truly beyond your understanding how anyone (you, these cops, anyone breathing) could ever deny Tim anything - his very being so commanding and reassuring that it only feels natural for you to surrender to him every time. Smoothing your tongue over Tim’s, you let him chase you to the furthest corners of your mouth; sighing when he catches you and licks behind your teeth in victory.

Though most of the onlookers have now left the two of you to your reunion, a few of Tim’s cheekier squad members remain. “Woooooooooooo!” the cheers from the surronding crowd are playful and jovial; there are a couple of whoop, whoops and arm pumps from some of the older detectives who were clearly Arsenio Hall fans.

“Alright, break it up, break it up,” Tim gruffs as you bury yourself into his chest, giggling. The remaining cops swiftly do as Tim says, going off in different directions – to order more drinks, out for a smoke, all eager to spread the lore about Detective Rockford’s kryptonite to their fellow jolly drunks, leaving you and Tim to stare dreamily into each other’s eyes in the middle of the bar.

Now that the two of you have a moment to yourselves, you can once again hear the bar’s music system that’s been blasting Christmas carols all night. Bing Crosby’s White Christmas comes over the speakers and you and Tim, still lost in one another, begin to slow dance – Tim presses his forehead to yours as he holds you close, finally letting himself relax now that his broad frame can once again melt and mold to the softness of your body.

Sighing in contentment, you lift your hands to run your gentle fingers through Tim’s rough facial scruff – a gesture that’s as soothing for him as it for you; it’s been great getting to know Tim’s colleagues and super entertaining listening to their stories and jokes, but this is where you’ll choose to be every time, “This has been so fun, Detective. I don’t know why you don’t like the precinct holiday parties.”

Tim closes his eyes and gives a little snort, “You try being named Tim at Christmas time around a bunch of drunk cops. The ‘Tiny Tim’ references usually start after the third round.”

You giggle, face now impish and eyes dancing with merriment, “Well, they just don’t know what Tiny Tim is capable of.”

Tim growls, grasp tightening around your waist, “…not that tiny.” Squealing, you crash your lips to Tim’s, delighting in your detective’s playful touch that’s now amorously roaming your backside. The two of you, lips never parting, sway over to a darker, less populated area of the bar – leaving Tim’s colleagues to their reveries.

“Ah, well, Detective Rockford, here’s the thing: I know for a fact that there is absolutely nothing tiny about Tiny Tim,” your hand trails down your boyfriend’s hard chest, smoothing over the front of his fancy dress pants to cup his bulge.

Tim jerks sharply to the sensation of your delicate fingers massaging his balls through the fabric; his voice lowers to a rumbled warning, “Shutterbug…”

“Mhhmmm?” you hum cheekily against Detective Rockford’s plush mouth.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to have to arrest myself for public indecency.”

Still drinking in the harmonious ring of your resulting laugh, Tim doesn’t see you subtly look around to see if there are any prying eyes trained on the two of you. When you find none, you hurriedly tug Tim down the hallway that leads to the restrooms; the bar has individual bathrooms instead of gendered ones, and you quickly find one that’s vacant, dragging Tim inside.

Tim looks surprised to find himself in the relatively well-lit bathroom, “Baby, what are…?”

His adorably naïve question is cut off when you push him up against the wall with surprising force from your soft hands. The party has been fun, but you were away from Tim for entirely too much of it.

Though you’re sure it wasn’t by design, nearly every captivating story you heard tonight has heralded your Tim as brave, clever, tough – never backing down in the face of particularly dangerous or puzzling elements of his cases; intimidating scumbag perps that deserved to get a little decency scared into them; displaying incredible feats of intelligence that left his colleagues amazed. Most of these stories you’ve actually heard before, but you learned tonight that Tim’s version often downplayed his own contributions and prowess – seeing your detective through the lens of his fellow law enforcement officers, hearing their accolades and seeing just how clearly they admire and respect your brilliant boyfriend has made you beam with pride.

And warm with arousal. Tim’s competency and humbleness are a one-two punch combination that never fails to turn you on, and by this point of the evening, you’ve heard a lot of stories evidencing both. You can’t wait any longer to have him.

“There, Detective. We’re not in public anymore,” you purr, scraping your kitten claws over the black cashmere of the sweater you gifted him, your hands meet in the middle of Tim’s expansive chest to give his smart, silk tie a sharp and quick tug; your cheeky move has absolutely no effect on the mountainous stance of man before you, and instead tips you into his space. Detective Rockford catches you with little effort, and when you see the smirk he throws your way, you drunkenly chuckle and allow to Tim descend on your lips once more. Sighing, completely enamoured with the handsome man before you, you throw your arms around his thick neck and give yourself over to Tim’s hungry kisses, matching his tongue stroke for stroke - whimpering as he nibbles and tugs on your plush bottom lip.

“Feeling needy, gorgeous?” Tim murmurs against your pout, hands gripping your ass in his heavy palms through the luxurious fabric of the dress that he’s been admiring on you all evening. You lean back and nod, giving him a coquettish, doe-eyed look, “Needed you all night, Timmy. Felt like I haven’t seen you at all, but I love how everyone’s been telling me stories about how brilliant and vital you are. All I’ve wanted to do is show you that I feel the same way.”

“Oh, baby, I’ve missed you too,” groans Tim as you claw your nails down his sweater, pressing hard through to the crisp dress shirt underneath – the way both garments stretched taut across his broad frame has you licking your lips; you start lowering to your knees, eyes already trailing to where Tim’s impressive cock is straining valiantly against his dress pants.

To your surprise, Tim’s hands slip under your arms and lift you back up – you whine at being denied his cock in your mouth, but the sweetness of his expression makes it impossible to be mad, “Don’t want you to get that pretty dress dirty on the floor, gorgeous.” Tim’s thoughtfulness combined with the firm way he maneuvers your body towards the bathroom sink has you positively gushing, any disappointment disappearing.

Standing behind you so that you’re both watching Tim’s bear paw hands snake up your chest, your detective gropes your breasts over the front of your dress and listens as you sigh and whinny; you slump back against your tank of a man, perfectly content to let him have his way with your body.

Still palming full fistfuls of your boobs, Tim’s long fingers reach up to pull down the neckline of your dress so that your tits come spilling out, eager to greet his hands. His mouth finds the sweet spot of your neck that he claimed as his long ago, and you watch him continue to paw and knead your breasts, finding your already peaked nipples with ease. Rolling, pinching, teasing your hardened buds between the rough pads of his fingers, Tim murmurs against your skin, “We gotta be quick and quiet - can you do that for me, Shutterbug?”

You meet the dark gaze of your boyfriend in the mirror and nod feebly; the reminder that you’re at a party full of cops, cops that work day in and day out with the fromidable man behind you who looks like he wants nothing more than to devour you, has you clenching pathetically around nothing.

Nothing escapes the eagle eyes of your detective – he responds to your desperation with a final squeeze of your tits before raking his monster hands, hard and gripping, down your willing body; frantically rucking up the skirt of your dress and bunching the festive fabric above your ass.

The sound of Tim’s belt buckle clicking open has you arching your back, ass wiggling and eyes closing in giddy anticipation.

Smack.

You yelp in delight at the bright sting blooming on your ass cheek from Tim’s open palm. He chuckles as he pulls your lace panties to the side, “Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby.”

The goofily grinning and sassy-eyed you in the mirror chirps, “Yes, Detective!” about to give him a cheeky salute when you’re rendered witless, dissolving into a puddle of lust at the feel of Tim’s thick fingers gliding through your folds.

He doesn’t tease you for long - finding you already wet and willing, Tim easily slides two of his fingers into your sopping hole; he bites down at the base of your neck and you keen as your boyfriend’s long reaching touch grazes your softest, most intimate parts.

Your reflection unravels and whimpers, “Pl-, please, Tim!”

Detective Rockford’s obsidian gaze meets yours in the glass and he acquiesces to the request you can’t quite vocalize with a quickening of his thrusts; the slap, slap, slap of his palm meeting your desire drenched pussy echoes off the walls of the small bar bathroom like the beat of a naughty Christmas carol.

Spurred on by the buzz of tonight’s alcohol and the titillating knowledge that Tim’s colleagues are only a short hallway away on the other side of the bathroom door, and that any or all of them could hear you or even come knocking the next moment, you start to crest shamefully quick. His knowledge of your body’s pleasure so familiar and intimate, Tim recognizes the fluttering of your walls and swiftly adds a third finger. You cry out, one hand flying up to muffle the sound as you press back against your detective’s hard chest; the other Tim cradles in his free paw and slips up your skirt and down the front of your panties, big hand over yours - using your lithe fingers like a quill to scrawl his command to your clit.

“Come for me.” Tim’s baritone growl is the last thing you hear before the air in the room rushes past your ears and you shudder at the silence that seemingly rings; biting down on your own hand, tears spring to your eyes at the sting of pain and the force of the orgasm that hits you.

You barely register as Tim’s fingers slow through your come down, withdrawing and finding their way to his mouth. The you in the mirror hazily watches as he sucks his fingers clean with a wicked grin, winking at you before nibbling playfully at your earlobe, “Taste so sweet, Shutterbug.”

Giggling, you pull your detective’s face down to yours for a tender but desperate kiss, your cunt already feeling empty and needy. Tim returns your affections ten-fold, hands frantically pushing down his pants and boxers, releasing his hard and thrumming cock with a slap against the smooth dip of your lower back. You whine pitifully, shimmying in Tim’s tight hold and pushing back to try and angle his dick down to where you need him; he chuckles darkly in your ear and grumbles, “Brace yourself, baby.” You place both hands firmly on the ledge of the sink counter and exhale shakily when you feel Tim wick the head of his cock through your slick, gripping hard as he firmly pushes in.

Tim’s eyes never leave your lust blown ones in the mirror. He sets a purposeful and delicious rhythm - pulling out nearly all the way so that you pout, letting you yearn for the loss of his stretch for a moment too long before slamming back in with a heavy drive of his hips and bottoming out each time with an aggressive snarl. He does this over and over and over, his punishing pace never wavering; your eyes start to roll and your bottom lip starts to smart from how hard you’re biting down to keep from screaming.

“Maybe we should let them hear, baby.”

“Let everyone in this bar know who you belong to.”

“They kept you all to themselves tonight – need to remind them that you’re mine.”

Tim punctuates each of his possessive words with a particularly harsh thrust, jolting you hard against the counter.

“Tim!” Your arms fly up to wrap behind his neck, and the reflected vision of you being bounced on Detective Tim Rockford’s hard cock with your supple tits tumbling whorishly out of your party dress, sends the both of you rocketing towards a dual high.

“You’re fucking perfect, Shutterbug.”

“No wonder they all want a piece of you.”

“But they can’t have you.”

“You’re mine, baby.”

“Mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours,” your breathy declaration sung to the chorus of your orgasm, Tim comes shortly after to the tight squeeze of your warm walls claiming him as yours.

“I love you, Detective.”

“I love you more, Shutterbug.”

The two of you stay at the party for just one more round of drinks; Tim’s arm never leaves your waist, tucking your body securely against his. As far as he’s concerned, his colleagues have monopolized enough of your time this evening, you’re all his now; you can’t help but enjoy Tim’s harmless display of possessiveness when his fellow officers swarm and try to engage you as they did before.

Perhaps in retaliation, the Tiny Tim jokes start coming in rapid succession:

“Tim, are you feeling tired? Is it hard to stand? Do we to find you a wittle crutch?”

“Isn’t it past Tiny Tim’s bedtime? He’s just a little guy.”

“Leaving already? Bah humbug!”

“Should we be calling Bob Cratchit? Does Tiny Tim need a lift?”

“No, don’t go, Rockford! Who’s going have god bless us, every one??!”

You can’t help but laugh at that last one as you and Tim sweep out of the bar; Tim raising his hand and flipping the bird to his friends without ever looking back.

The December air outside feels crisp and pleasant against your skin, still warm from tonight’s drinks and the crowded party. By some coincidence, the bar is in the same neighbourhood as the restaurant where Tim took you on your third first date, and much like that night, you and Tim opt to take the twenty-or-so minute walk home. Though the fresh air sobers you, you remain cheerful and giddy from tonight’s festivities and a general sense of seasonal merriment – his hand never leaving yours, an amused Tim lets you happily swing your arms as you walk, occasionally giving you a twirl on the sidewalk and smiling widely as you duck under his beefy arm and spin so that the skirt of your dress fans out with a dancer like grace. Chirping cheerfully, you fill Tim in on all the courageous and funny stories his colleagues shared with you tonight and delight in the way his face reddens in embarrassment.

“I’m so lucky, Tim! I get to call the biggest, baddest, smartest detective on the squad as my own. And I also know him to be so sweet, and kind, and funny. I’m truly the luckiest girl in the world,” your words and eyes are genuine, all adoring.

Tim can’t help but grin dopily back. He takes off his tan trench coat to drape over your shoulders and accepts your quick, sweet peck of gratitude before countering, “I’m the lucky one, Shutterbug. It was clear to every single person in the bar tonight that you’re a star, everyone’s dream – and you choose me. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Your chest swells with affection for your tender-hearted boyfriend – Tim never fails to make you feel cherished, supported and loved, and of course, always so very safe and protected. You’re sure that if the people of the city knew even half of what you know about how deeply Tim cares and takes seriously his charge of their protection, they would all be as in love with him as you are. It’s no wonder that you had felt that initial spark with him when he was just diligently doing his duty all those many moons ago at the aquarium – he had been so earnest and dedicated to the job, you’re convinced you fell in love with him on the spot, “We’re both so lucky that you’re who I ended up interviewing with at the aquarium during the Grandma Ursula case.”

“It wasn’t all luck, Shutterbug,” Tim flashes a shit eating grin.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that day at the aquarium, MacMillan and I were both interviewing potential witnesses. And when we got down to the final few interviews, I bribed him to let me question you.”

You’re absolutely shocked and delighted by this revelation, “Detective Rockford!! You’re diabolical! What did the favour of my company cost you?”

“I had to transcribe all of MacMillan’s interview notes from that day… and for the following month. Plus, he made me drive all the way to a deli across town to pick up his favourite sandwich.”

“Omigod,” you giggle, “And?”

“Hmmm?”

“Was it worth it?”

“The sandwich? I did get myself one - it was pretty delicious.”

You swat playfully at Tim’s chest, “No, silly. Not the sandwich – what you transcribed all those notes for.”

“Absolutely. Changed my life for the better. You're priceless, baby.”

“Oh Tim,” you sigh at your detective’s romantic words. The truth is you’re absolutely gobsmacked that Tim went through all that effort for you when he didn’t even know you; knowing what you do now about Tim’s instinct and how often the success of his cases rest on its sharp edge, it makes your heart sing that he had had a feeling, saw something in you worth pursuing. You tell him as much.

“I’ve been grateful for you since the moment I saw you, Shutterbug,” says Tim sincerely, “When you were in that waiting area, patiently letting the families and field trips go ahead of you, I knew I was in the presence of genuine grace and kindness. I- I don’t run across that very often in my line of work – you’re so special, baby. I was having such a shit day and you were an unexpected beacon of light. I think, selfishly, I couldn’t let you go without basking a little longer in your warmth.”

Tears spring to your eyes so quickly that you have to turn away from Tim to hide how emotional his confession has made you. You had felt such a strong connection to him that day as well – Tim had been so sweet and patient, encouraging in his words for your photography when he had no reason to be; your gratitude had only been compounded when you bore witness to the enthusiasm and commitment Tim held for his policework. And since the day of the Grandma Ursula case verdict, your feelings of admiration and awe for this strong, honourable man have only grown.

You tug Tim along the twinkle lights illuminated path, still unable to look at him while admitting these sentiments, “When we didn’t talk at all during those seven months of the Grandma Ursula case, I thought maybe I had made you up – it didn’t seem possible to have properly gauged the measure of a man so smart, kind, and honourable from just the few times we interacted. But Tim, you exceed even my wildest fantasies with how steadfast, loving, respectful, caring you are to me everyday. You’re the man of my dreams.”

If you were hoping to avoid getting overwhelmed by your feelings, thinking about how much you love your detective and all the reasons you can’t live without him has certainly not been the way to do it. Swimming in your own happiness, you brush away your tears with the sleeve of Tim’s jacket and quicken your pace, your footsteps timed to the thundering beat of your very full heart.

You walk so quickly that your hand slips from Tim’s and in your surprise at the loss of his warm, comforting grip, you turn around – the sight that greets you leaves you stunned. Both hands flying up to cover your mouth, now dropped opened in a placid ‘o’ shape, you’re unable to contain the loud gasp that escapes.

Tim is still where he was when you inadvertently let go of his hand, but now down on one knee – in his upturned palm he holds an open ring box, his rich brown eyes swirling with a storm of deep emotion, love.

You walk the few steps back to Tim in silence, teary eyes crinkling from a smile that you can’t quite hide behind your hands. Your barely concealed joy makes Tim’s heart soar and calms his nerves somewhat.

When you finally stand before him, Timothy Rockford, first line attack dog of the LAPD Detective Squad, scourge of the city’s hardened criminals, and certified grump who hates all holidays and holiday parties, melts in front of the woman he loves. He looks up into the eyes of his personal goddess, the one who makes it safe for him to reveal his soft underbelly, nourishes him and has his back in every way that matters on this mortal plane he had long resigned to walking alone before meeting her, and asks the most important question he’s ever had to pose, inside or outside of an interrogation room.

“Shutterbug, when we met, I couldn’t have fathomed how much better my life was going to get with you in it. You’re the embodiment of all the goodness that for a very long time I was convinced existed in too short supply in this world. But not with you, baby – you’re generous and open, and the sweetness and compassion you extend to me and everyone around you feels never-ending. You give me so much, but the most important is something I didn’t even know I was missing: a home. You’re my home, Shutterbug. A home full of love and softness. I- I never knew that could be in the cards for me, or that anyone like you existed, never mind that you would choose me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, but if you allow me, I want to spend the rest of our lives coming home and loving you.”

You’re nodding now, happy tears overflowing.

Tears now rolling down his own face, Tim chokes out, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, Tim! I’ll marry you!!” You cry, launching yourself into Detective Rockford’s arms, practically knocking him and the ring box to the ground.

Wrapping his arms tight around his little slice of heaven, Tim helps you both stand; pulling back only so he can slip the diamond ring that he had so long ago bought and hid in the back of his sock drawer, waiting for the right time (a time that wouldn’t be too soon), on your ring finger. You admire the beauty of this bright flawless thing, an actual physical embodiment of Tim’s love – still in shock that something, someone, could be so exquisite and yours. Thankful and humbled before its, his, grace, you place your hands on both sides of your fiancé’s handsome face as he brings his careful paws up to yours and you meet for a long, perfect kiss.

Still feeling like you’re in a dream, you start heading home - alternating between walking while holding out your left hand and admiring it in a daze, and looking back at Tim’s blinding smile, stopping to kiss him again when you see the look of devotion and awe that he radiates back at you. This continues for several blocks until, giddy and blissful, you suddenly notice the slow licking flames of want that have been keeping you warm on this chilly December walk – immediately, you start pulling Tim towards your shared destination with renewed urgency.

“What’s the hurry, Shutterbug?” laughs Tim.

“Want to get home, Detective,” you giggle, “so I can ride my new fiancé until we both come so loud the neighbours complain."

At this, Tim quickens his pace, long legs taking strong purposeful strides - one for every two of yours; his eagerness and boyish grin making you laugh, “Then tomorrow, after we celebrate some more on every surface of the apartment, I want you to take me to that deli across town and I’m going to buy MacMillan a ‘thank you’ sandwich myself.”

You squeal in laughter as Detective Tim Rockford breaks into a full out jog, practically carrying you, his Shutterbug, love of his life, raison d’etre – fiancé, wife-to-be, the future Mrs. Rockford (Oh, he likes the sound of that!), all the way home.

A/N 2: We time hop a lot in this series, a lot of the stories not necessarily happening in the order they're written/posted and I don't think it matters much - but for those that are wondering, a little note on timing. This story can be considered the most recent in the timeline of Timmy and Shutterbug's relationship; I consider it to take place a good while after Sniffles (when they move in together). Sniffles I imagine to take place 3-4 months after Husband Material, and before the Sleepy Trilogy. I'm not terribly committed to when the others slot in, but I always think of Dance for Me as also taking place when they're already living together.

Thank you again for reading and happy holidays - god (nondenominational) bless you, every one 🥹🥹😘

#tim rockford #tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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narcissarina · 3 months ago

Text

•Lost, Acceptance, and Love again•

Before reading, please take note that:

This is a work of fiction, events that have happened here are entirely fictional and it's all in the authors imagination.

You may or may not agree with what the characters say since it's only for the sake of the plot to continue the story.

May or may not contain spoilers from the actual Silent Hill 2 remake game.

The author would like to apologize for her shit ass writing because she's rusty as hell.

Words used: 17,965

This story contains, slow burn, single mother reader, grieving James, trauma and smut.

Please beware that this may be ass, but the author had to post and edit this at 4:08 in the morning in her country. (Save yourself pls)

The author hasn't finished the game, and may have flaws while she researches something on the internet rather than playing the game itself (waiting for her fav ytuber to upload)

Tumblr is being ass for the 10 picture limit that the author couldn't use her Lost, Acceptance, and Love again divider. So please bear with the ~~~~~ lmao.

Lost, Acceptance and Love again...

It was morning, the sunlight creeps in and the cheers of your kids blessed your ears—their little feet carried themselves and pushed the door of your room open, “mommy, mommy!” They said, helping one another to set foot in your bed and tackle you.

You smiled at their tactics, finally opening your eyes as you were greeted with the biggest smile you ever witness. The four of them steps on your bed, Veronica on your lap, Kenan clings to your arm and Junior messing your hair. Since they’re only two years old, they are loud and more energetic than you are.

“Alright, alright.” You sat up and tried to get Junior’s hand off of your hair, untangling his super grip and tried to find their other brother: Leo. Leo seems busy watching what the others are doing, “you four go play in the living room, mommy has to make her bed and make you devils some breakfast, okay?” You said, putting Veronica down the ground as Kenan and Junior followed, then Leo.

“Mommy, somwone move in next dwor.” Leo informed you, “and where did you heard that, baby Leo?” you asked, standing up to stretch your arms and legs—throwing question at Leo, “the other neighbwors, mommy.” Pouts Leo.

After making you bed, you told them to run along the living room while you make them breakfast but since you’re now informed that someone moved in next door, you thought about giving the new neighbor some warm welcoming like how you first moved in. Gifts and homemade foods is what greeted you on the first day, you wanted to welcome the new neighbor just the same.

Someone deserve to feel welcome, right?

Setting down your utensils, facing your kids, “you kids want to help me make something to give next door?” silence as the four little blonde kids looks at one another as they nod to agree to assist you.

“What do you kids want to give to our new neighbor?” You asked, rummaging through your kitchens top drawer snd the pantry closet, “cookies!” suggest Veronica, “muffins?” said Kenan in a timid, shy tone, “Can I eat wone?” asked Junior, his mind drooling about eating cookies and muffins.

You smiled at them with a nod, “cookies and muffin then.”

The four little blonde kids helped you knead the cookie dough, this also helps them find entertainment for cooking—one of the fun activities that they never knew they’d enjoy, after making a mess on the table, with the flour and chocolate chips spread through the table.

Letting them experience to clean and help you with basic house chores while waiting for the cookies and muffin to bake.

Sitting with the kids in the living room, they’re drawing on their papers, Leo is taking a nap on your lap while the others draw. “Ms. Lay fwom next door says that the new guy nexts dwor is a bit gwumpy looking, but I think he’s just sad.” What Junior said struck you, the new guy next door is… sad? Why is that your kids say that the man was sad?

You thought, maybe having a little chat with him and try to befriend him would make a difference. Maybe he’s lonely or could use a friend, it’s totally all right to rely on someone when they needed it most, right?

You asked yourself, losing yourself in thought as Kenan bit your knees to snap you out of it, “Ow—” you wince, almost kicking your knee up as Kenan backs away, “cookie and muffin owlready done mowm.” He pats and continues to draw with Veronica and Junior as you settle down Leo to nap on the couch.

Thinking back again as you took two trays out of the oven, you can’t help but wonder what must that guy be going through, why he moved alone next door. You sigh and took each one of the cookies and muffin out of the tray, calling your kids to let them decorate it to whatever they pleases.

Junior put a blue icing and put don’t be sad, have a muffin.

While Veronica draw hearts and flowers, Leo on the other hand just put a frown and smile together. Kenan just wants it to be a simple swirl.

They help pick a box to put in to give it to the man next door, a pink with white stripes box as you neatly put a ribbon around it, then taking a box out to give the man a few cookies to enjoy while the rest are for yours and the kids to enjoy.

You smiled at the masterpiece that your kids made, and of course, an A for your effort too.

“Let’s hope that he likes it.” You smiled at the four eating their own muffin, stuffing their face with icing.

Still wearing your apron on, kids were on your side. Veronica holding the muffin box with both of her hands, smiling from ear to ear as if she’s delighted to share the masterpiece that she and her brothers made, Kenan clings to your pants while Leo walks in front of you. You rang the door bell and looks down at Leo—who’s expression is uninterested to be here right now and holding the box filled with cookies.

It took a few minutes and two doorbells before the man opens the door, before you, you saw a tall dark blonde man with tired eyes in a slightly ajar door. Is he not sleeping well? It’s quite worrying to see him at such a state, but Veronica’s voice filled the silence with her usual loud and cheery voice, “HELLO!” she beams, startling the man, “me, my mowmi and my bwothers made these for chu!” She started walking towards him, taking his hand and giving the box to him.

Leo goes up next, didn’t say anything and shoves the box to the mans knee—making him kneel down to pick up the box, “Leo!” You called out with a slight frown, “I-I’m so sorry for my son, sir.” You flash him with a soft smile, “we were informed you had just moved in, we thought we might give you something to welcome you.” You added, Veronica is clapping with a giggle while Kenan on the other hand, is hiding from the man.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Grunts the dark blonde man, taking box filled with cookies in his hands and set it to the nearby table in his home, you told him your name while he told his, “I’m James…” he said, “James Sunderland.”

You nod, looking down at Junior that’s in front of you, “mister awre you high?” asked Junior, your eyes wide and knelt down quickly to cover Juniors mouth, “I am SO sorry.” You apologize for your kids behavior, earning a small chuckle from James, “just kidding, mommy.” Junior giggled at his own words, “Junior that’s not nice.” You tut and got to your feet again.

The kid walks towards James and pushed the door to open more, giving the man a hug to his knees, “don’t be sad, miwster.” Junior tries comforting the man, looking at James with his baby blue eyes, “just eat a mufwin.” He grins and quickly got back to you. James eyed your kids one by one, nodding at Juniors words, “I will, kid.” James smiled, his day a bit better because of your little devils.

You had a long and friendly conversation with James, the kids asking him questions and urging him to take a bite of what they made, asking him who’s muffin is better—giving James the pressure of answering the so called ‘winner’.

Finally got back inside, your kids bursting with energy and zoomies around the living room. They’re playing tag while you watch them play and turn on your television to watch something, turning channels to see if there’s something interesting to watch but since there’s none, you just read a book while Leo decided to take a nap on top of you while you read.

James smiled today, amused by the kids and made his day a little better. You smiled to yourself and look back at your children, they sure are a bundle of joy—bringing a smile to someone’s face with their unique personality and odd choice of words talking to a stranger… that now strangely turned into a friend.

You are thankful that you have them to bring joy to someone’s day… even if it’s just for today.

It’s now nighttime, you look to the window and see that James never set foot outside for once today, he might have something a lot to worry in his mind. The bags under his eyes… You’re worried, but not to worry! You have set a goal to yourself that you’ll break down James’ walls little by little until he shares his worries with you. That he’ll see that he’s not alone, that he’s free to share his burden with you.

You asked your kids to take a bath (you dried them one by one with a towel of course), brush their teeth and waste their energy to their last playtime for today and set off to bed.

Tucking Veronica first in her own separate room from the boys, she giggles as you kissed her forehead. Pulling the blanket up to her neck and setting Mr. Bunny to her side.

The boys are chatting and Junior being the clown to their group is making a joke to make them laugh, “okay, boys. Off to bed now.” You smiled, leaning against the doorframe then walking to their beds as they scatter to their own.

Tucking Kenan and Leo in their own, giving them a goodnight kiss on their forehead, setting their comfort animal stuff toys to their side. You also tucked in Junior last, he’s sitting on his bed, smoothing out his blanket with a smile then finally lying down.

“Mowmmy,” he called, “yes, baby?”

“I wayk James.” He stated with a giggle, “why is that?” you asked, interested that he had taken a liking to James, “he seems to be a nice guy.” You nodded, agreeing to him.

“He is.”

“But chi seems sad and lonely..” Juniors tone became hush and blue, he shoot you a pity look, “c-can we bwe chis fwend?”

His question stunned you a little, but seeing that James seems to be feeling blue and lonely, why not try right? You nodded and kisses Juniors forehead goodnight, “we’ll try, baby. Let’s invite him to every plans we have. Ease his mind a bit yeah?” you smiled at him.

Junior yawned and leans towards you touch, “I like that vewi much, mowmmy,” he yawns mid sentence, “I wuv you vewi much…”

Your heart swells with so much love, adding more fuel to your determination and make James be part of the family so he would never be alone. Not when they’re here with him.

“Mr. Sunderland?” knocking on his door then ringing his doorbell, calling him out while your kids were chatting among themselves, you waited for James to come out.

“Mr. Sun—” the door open, you almost hit James by the chest when you’re suppose to knock, “yeah?” he responded to your call, eyes still tired as ever then he pinch the bridge of his nose—finally looking down at your kids that’s dressed up. For what? A party or play?

His mouth open, but couldn’t pin point the words he wanted to say, “is—is everything all right?” he asked, looking down at Veronica who’s giggling at James, “yes, everything is fine. About yesterday, uhm…” taking a sharp breath, you gather your courage to invite him out, “you see, my kids had taking a liking to you and—”

“No, I dwon’t” pouts Leo.

You shush Leo and gave him the stare, “that’s not nice.” You quickly warned Leo, “bwut I like James.” Said Junior with a smile and Veronica steps up to James giving him a big hug to his knee, “wiw you pwease come with chas mister?” Veronica asked with a pleading tone, not letting go of James because well… she doesn’t take a no for an answer.

Waiting for his response, James kneels down to Veronica’s level and pats her head, “I can’t.” he said, trying to untangle her grip to his leg, “whys?” She asked with a pout, not letting go of James, “I uhm…” he cough and start looking around his house, “a bit busy.”

“wayer.”

He sigh and smiled, “I’m… not.” He pauses and took his gaze off Veronica’s pleading look, puppy eyes and all. “Pwease?” plead Veronica, stomping her little legs, “pwease, pwease, pwease.” She repeatedly plead, hugging James’ leg tightly.

Taking Veronica off of him and cradling her in your arms, you just faintly smiled at James’ polite refusal, “it’s okay, Mr. Sunderland,” you said, patting your daughters back as you two could hear her sob. You pamper her with kisses on her cheek to cheer her up, but she hugged you tightly around your neck and silently sob.

“We’ll just go,” taking Leo’s hand, taking Leo away because he’s giving James the glare. Junior waved his hand bye-bye and took Kenan with him.

Seeing the tears that the girl shed, it made him feel bad—a guilty feeling that he hates to feel because he refused a little girls request, “wait!” he yelled, stopping the five of you in your tracks, “w-wait… I’ll just get uh… ready.” He awkwardly stated and shut the door first, probably going to have a quick wash to his face.

You could hear him tripping inside his own home and almost loud banging in there, is he all right? You asked yourself, then turn to the crying Veronica, “look, baby. He’s now coming with us.” You coo her, bouncing her on your arms as Veronica smiled and nodded, wiping her tears with her little hands.

His door open and locked it, walking down to his porch steps and pocketing his keys. First time seeing him in the light as he walks over to you, he sigh—knowing that he accepted defeat when he witness Veronica cry.

“All right…” he sigh, “where to?”

“Up.. up..” Veronica lift her arms and tried to get to James to carry her, “all right.” Accepting her request, he cradle her in his arms then felt like the heavy stare faded from him, Leo was glaring at him but not anymore—now that he sees his sister content and happy being carried by James.

“Just the playground.”

Arriving at the park, the kids dashes off to either the swing or slides, you sit beside James on the bench and watch over them. “So.” You start, glancing over him while he’s leaning forward.

“any kids?” you question, he slowly shakes his head, “no.”

Awkward…

You start again while watching the kids from the distance, Veronica pushing Kenan on the swing while Leo helped Junior to slide down the slides, “any particular reason why you moved in to town?” you asked, there was an silence that gap between you. As if, James’ is reflecting on to his own thoughts.

“Well, it’s—… it’s not that it’s wrong to move in.” you almost eat and stutter your words, pursing your lips and looking down to your knees. He’s refusing to answer doesn’t he? Better not push it, maybe it’s quite personal to him.

You heard a tuning song from the distance, oh look. An ice cream truck! Better buy some to make him and the kids better.

Standing up from your seat and taking your purse, target locked to the truck from the street as James’ mutter in his breath, “just… to run away from something.” He said. You catch what he said and nodded, brows furrowing to what? Pity or worry?

“watch the kids for me, can you?” asking a small favor for him, he nods and lean back to his seat, taking a closer eye on four of your kids while you run along with your heels clicking and across the street buying ice cream.

James’ eyed on Veronica closely… There seems to be a stranger talking and coming closer to her, giving her what? Candy? His eyes squinted and stood up from his seat, walking closer to your daughter. He could hear what they’re saying, “oh you want more candy?” the stranger asked.

“ches, more pwease.” Veronica demanded, gesturing on her hand to give her more, “excuse me?” James’ voice cuts their little idle chat, making the stranger flinch and look at the man before him, he leans down to Veronica (who is licking her candy) tapping her shoulder and nod to the stranger before her, “you know this person, sweetheart?” James asked, she chin up to meet James’ gaze—she shakes her head to a no, not knowing who might this stranger be.

The unknown person stood up and backed away, “so.” James warned as he stood and took Veronica in his arms, cradling her. “It’s either you scram or I’ll take you out myself.” His voice might be calm and collected, but it hints a warning and threat.

The unknown person backs away and out the park that’s filled with children, James’ decided to warn the parents that’s present on the park—warning about the guy who is suspicious and could possibly kidnap the children out of sight.

James took the children to the bench and waited for your return.

When you came back, plastic bag on your wrist filled with cup ice creams and two big ice cones for you and James’—witnessing them look gloomy sitting on the bench while Veronica is happily chewing on her candy.

“I’m back, what happened?” you asked, walking in front ofhim and giving James his cone, then gave the four children their own small cupped ice creams, “someone tried to bribe your daughter with candies.” He looks at his own cone and took a big bite on top, “he looks suspicious so I warned the other parents that are present.” He added, looking worried as she snap your gaze to Veronica.

“Baby, what did I told you when strangers that looks sketchy offered you candy huh?” your voice firm but with worry.

“Bwut mowmmy, I intwend to take a few then rwun away. It’s buswiness.” Proud and smug as Veronica gesture a ‘pay me’ gesture, letting out a scoff and put your free hand to your face as you gaze back to James’ “thank you so much, James. I don’t know what could’ve happened to her without you watching.” You let out a huge sigh and looks down at Veronica, “you do understand that I’ll give a good scolding for later, right Nica?”

Veronica pouted but made no objections but instead, nodded—she knee that she made you worried and got in a little bit of struggle, since she didn’t want to left out her three brothers by not having a candy, she took the risk in mind.

You couldn’t believe that one of your kids already made some trouble for James, you sat down with them and you glance at James’ ice cream cone… It’s already gone? Huh?

Eyes wide that James already ate his at a split second, he looks at you with those same tired green eyes, “what?” he asked, “n.. no-no no, it’s nothing.” Licking your own cone and minding your own business, eating ice cream a little too quiet.

“you might want to have your daughter check, you know… incase that the candy was drugged.” Almost choking on your own cone, coughing and hitting your chest—your face went pale as the thought of the possibility that the candy might be drugged is your worst nightmare.

Your turn your head to Veronica and asked her, “baby, do you feel weird or sleepy?” Veronica shook her head, still eating her ice cream cup, “we’ll go to the hospital first before we go to you and your brothers favorite diner, all right?” you let out a small chuckle and took the kids empty ice cream cup to the trash.

You nod your head to James’ with a smile, “Lets go.”

“I’m still invited?” he asked, getting up to his feet.

“Of course, plus. I think you’d do that for the kids right?” you said with a grin, Veronica with pleading eyes as she now demands to be picked up.

“to the hospital?”

“to the hospital.” You nod.

“Well, the test result came quick and good news.” Says the doctor as he smiled and pats Veronicas head, “there are no drugs from your daughters system, miss.” The doctor added and gave Veronica candy—which Veronica is reluctant to take, asking you for silent permission using her eyes.

You smiled and kisses her head, “you can take the doctors candy, sweetie.” The doctor let out a chuckle at the cuteness and cautious Veronica, “it’s all right, you can trust me.” Said the doctor with a proud tone, “you know, I have a daughter that has the same name as you.” He winks playfully and left the room.

“Do you hear that baby? It means your name is special.” You coo as she devours the candy, Leo is sleepy on the other hand and had been itching to go home, “so I suppose we’re going to a diner next?” James asked, raising a brow—seeing that Leo is nodding off, he picked Leo up to his arms and cradle him, letting him nap to his shoulder.

Nodding to his words, finally leaving the hospital as the sun is almost setting and entering the diner. Taking your seats as Leo is still gripping on to James’ shoulder, not wanting to let go and disturb his nap.

“What would you like to have?” you asked, flipping over to the menu’s.

“Anything that you’re going to order.” Answered James as he tried to gently tug off Leo and reposition him to a comfortable position to nap.

You nod to his words and after a while, finally calling a waiter to order. Well, you ordered a few stuff that what you think he might like and your kid’s favorite, “you can wake him up when the food is here.” You told James, smiling from ear to ear from the sight and knowing Leo? He gets grumpy and loud when he gets his nap disturbed, you might want to consider working on your kid with that one.

“he gets better when the food is here.” You added with a smile to James, Veronica patting on his shoulder and leans in, trying to engage a friendly conversation with him with her own curiosity to James.

Time passed and when the food arrived, James almost got his hand chewed by Leo for waking him up, but since the food arrived—the boys demeanor changed and turned slightly happy that he gets to eat his dinner now. The dark blonde man was thankful that he didn’t woke the little man up before the food arrive or else he’ll get teeth marks on his hands.

Exchanging friendly chat and opinion on several things with him is fun, having a few deep talks with James is something you never expected.

“do you think that when a person die, they’ll wake up again in their next life?”

“What do you think ones purpose in life when they were brought to this world?”

You threw various question to James and he didn’t refuse to share his own thought and feelings, even some cultural reference, happy to say that… James is the man you never thought would be your friend that you could talk things like this about.

The kids were so confused and worried about each and every answer and question, Veronica throwing you a look to stop asking James about something like Life and Death.

Well, there are a few things James learned; one is that your family is fun to hang around, two is that his burdens were shared even for a little bit and that he feels safe and secure to be having those kind of conversation with you. And three, the kids made him smile as if he couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy…

It had soon became dark, the kids knew they had to go home now and that they’ll be separated from James for today… But knowing a kid, they get attached a little too quickly when they had taken a liking to someone, James just happened to be a lovable man to them. He makes them feel safe and laugh, even though he, himself is a little miserable in life.

He just lost someone…

He’s afraid…

To what?

To get attached and lose that person again…

“Mary…” he mutter.

“Did you say something?” you asked, snapping him back to reality and see that he’s already back home, well—at your home to be precise, he probably daydream along the way and never noticed that he accepted your invite to stay inside your home for a while.

You saw that he’s at it again, after drying the dishes with clean cloth, you sat down beside him on the couch—your hand on his shoulder as you lean to see his face, “hey…” you called, tilting your head to the side, “you don’t look fine, mind sharing what’s on your mind?” you asked, soothing his back in case he needed it.

Hearing a sigh from him, he leans back (which you quickly took your hand off because it’ll get squish by his back), “i-it,’s nothing… just…” he paused, “just.. thinking about my wife.” He murmur, brows furrow and his feeling sink into longing and regret.

Your eyes wide at the news of hearing that he has a wife, “oh, really?” you gasp, not reading him quite well, “you have a wife? Where is she then? I would love to make friends with her.” You chuckle but stop, the look on his face is what would you see in a grieving person.

You stop and scoots to him closer, patting his hand, “what.. what happened to her?” you asked, seeing a nice guy that’s depress like James hurts you… You hate the look on his face when he had done so much for you and you, well, couldn’t do much for him.

Just company and talks.

James already thinks that just hearing you laugh, talk, or even coo your children and bring him company is already enough for him.

“Mary?” he uttered his wife’s name to you, “is Mary her name?” you smiled, “you know, people who tends to have a name Mary is usually the most nicest and beautiful people you’d ever met.” You told him, maybe it’ll cheer him better and… it did.

He lets out a soft chuckle and nodded, agreeing with you, “yeah… Mary is kind, beautiful and the most sweetest woman I have ever met…” he opens up, you listen intently—not wanting to break this moment for him, “she likes to play the piano, though she claims that she’s not very good at it. I’ve always love to hear her play again.”

You smiled at his words and nodded, “well, where is she now?” you asked, his smile slowly fading—regret and longing kicking in, “Mary’s dead.” He said.

As if your breath had caught to your throat, words won’t come out as your heart drops from the news—sharing the same mournful feeling with him and soothing him by his shoulder, “do you know the cause of her death?” you asked.

James sigh and rest his elbows to his knees, covering and wiping his face with both of his hands, “she was sick, the doctors told us that she only has three years maximum to live, it became a problem to both of us… She would’ve still love to visit our special place.” You smiled at the mention of them having a special place, “but then, the disease she made her almost unrecognizable, sever mood swings where she would attack you.” His breath hitches, recalling the painful memories he had with her.

You wanted to ask if the illness she had was curable, but I guess James already read your mind, “no, they couldn’t find a cure for it.” He said, his tone low and mournful. “so, she died from a disease..?” You asked, resting your elbows to your knees like his, “and where is this special place she loved?”

“Silent Hill.”

You nod, smiling, also recalling some childhood memories from that place—but now is not the time being about you, isn’t it?

“So, Mary had three years maximum to live, meaning that she died three years ago?” you summarized in question on what he had told you so far, “am I right?” searching for reassurance.

But instead, he shakes his head and bow low, “no…” he murmur, “what do you mean?” you asked, brows slightly frowning, heart beating rapidly and almost holding your breath back.

“I killed her.”

As if your ears had gone deaf, ringing and your mind swirl with a lot of questions. Snapping out of it, you just let out a nervous chuckle, “you’re joking… right?” breath hitches, heart pounding rapidly as he didn’t react, he turn his head away and didn’t fill the silence.

Quickly getting up to your feet, finding something to do to busy yourself and distract your mind—it’s impossible, right? How could someone as kind like James kill someone? He spoke about Mary full of love and sincerity yet… he killed her.

Why..?

“I uhm…” you start, James stood and called your name, calm and gentle yet—those are the same lips that loved Mary and what killed her, “… could you please..” James hums, walking up to you, your back facing him as he tried to reach for your hand.

Flinching to his touch, you turn and cover then wipe your face with your whole palm. You couldn’t even look at him in the eye, “y.. you should go,” you remark, his lips parts but no words fell from it, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow…” you added, “I just… uhm… need some time.” James, of course, understood. If someone he wanted to be closed to told him that they had killed someone that the person really loves, he’d react the same too.

He'd doubt, isolate himself or even just cut ties with them.

Probably.

If he has the heart to.

Why now? He would asked himself, why now did he have to open up so soon? He just ruined another relationship that he thought he finally could keep. He just need time, just another time and chance to explain himself. But he couldn’t redeem himself to the crime he had done with the same hands that held your kids…

His hand stop reaching out to you, seeing how terrified you were with the information he just laid out to you, it’s terrifying and he knows that… He just… didn’t want Mary to suffer, if he could just say those words, will you understand why he had taken the life of his late-wife?

No. No you won’t, you won’t forgive him nor would he forgive himself, his mouth were open but no words were uttered out, “James…” he snaps back to reality, out of his mind yet again, “please, you and I need uhm… some rest.” You voice out, whispering as the kids were already fast asleep.

He nodded, understanding that it’s already night and… You need sleep and to avoid him for this night, “all right, I understand…” he mutter, slowly backing away and turn to face the door, he called out to you before walking out, “… good night.”

You hum in respond, “yeah… Goodnight too, James.”

Toss and turning in bed after an hour has passed, his words keeps haunting your mind, you could only ask yourself why? Why did he do it? Is it because Mary is too ill and that her illness isn’t curable, does that mean he just didn’t want her to suffer and ended her life with his own hands?

How could he? You thought, can’t sleep properly. James is a nice person, calm and collected when around your kids, even protected them from possible kidnap of Veronica, warned other parents about that suspicious person.

It's just, maybe, hard go believe. He couldn’t possibly, right? You don’t want go believe it, he’s starting to grow in you—letting your heart open ajar for him, just one more push and you’re attached.

Maybe he just said it to push you away? He said horrible things to himself just to distance people away from him, you can’t just ignore his existence and continue with your daily life when your own kids got attached to him.

You’ll go talk to him tomorrow, just need some good night sleep.

But how? When James himself is convinced that he’s a monster.

This all stresses you out, your mind is already tired of thinking and before you knew it, your eyes were closed as slowly your consciousness had taken a deep slumber, while your heartaches for James, a single tear shed from one corner of your eye.

You woke up a little too early, drinking coffee and reading a book on the kitchen table. Surprised that Leo was the first one to wake up, “mowmmy?” he called, putting your mug down and picked him up to your arms, “yes, baby?”

“Whwere’s James?” he asked, yawning and nuzzling his head to the crook of your neck, you hum him in your embrace, trying to put him back to sleep. Leo is smart from his siblings, he understands things that should’ve been terrifying to kids, you wanted to ask him about something, “Leo?”

Leo hums, pulling himself together and rubs his eyes with the back of his palm, “I want to ask you something baby.” You coo, “what would you do if someone you love is suffering in an incurable illness, what would you do?”

It takes time for the question to fully register in Leo’s mind, he blinks at you with his sleepy lidded eyes and huffs out his answer, “I uhm..” he almost mumble, “If its incwurable, I would wike them to stwop suffewing.” He hums, still sleepy yet he could answer your question.

“bwecause, i-if.. mhm.. if they cwontinue to swuffer, it’ll ownly pain them but fwor as long as thwey are stwill alive, I would want to cweate lots of memories with thwem.” He added, you nod. You know this to yourself that you shouldn’t be asking the child such dark question, but you did it anyway.

“But, baby, what if the person was the one who ended that persons suffering, what then?”

He squints at you hard, judging you badly.

Silence filled in as Leo was now fully awake and aware, “did swomeone killed swomeone mwommy?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, shaking your head as an answer with a smile, “just curious what would your answer be, Leo.”

He tilts his head, “lawfuwwy, it’s illegal and cwould be set in jail to swerve sentence fwor attempt murder.” He huffs, kicking his legs to be put down and sit on your lap, you sat back down to your chair and made him sit on your lap. He continues, “bwut, if—IF,” he almost yelled, “itw’s not like I’m dwefending a mwurderer or something.” He coughs and clasp his tiny hands together, “if thwat person feels guilty abwout it, and that thwey wish they dwidn’t done it and wanted to gwow back that thwey didn’t kwilled them. Thwen it means thwat thwey still have a gwood heart, bwecause they regwet.” He finishes and yawns, “mwurders are sometwine put to trial and serve swentence to jail, why is that mwommy?” he asked you.

You thought about it, “because they believe in being sober and second chances, and that they give them months or years in prison to reflect.” Leo nodded at your words in agreement, “exwactly. Now, if ywou will excuse me, I’m still eepy.” He huffs, stomping down to his feet hitting the ground, he looks back at you, “and mwommy, I bwelieve in secwond chances. Maybwe that pwerson thinks its fwor the best or that the pwerson with the illness mwakes it their wish.”

After that, he storms off back to his room, taking another nap with his brothers, it’s still eight in the morning, probably eight and thirty-five, what Leo just said left you speechless and in awe. He really is smart and gifted.

Making up your mind, Leo is right. Maybe… Maybe Mary really had requested it to James to kill herself. Give her life up because she doesn’t want to suffer anymore? Who knows, you’re not there when they’re story happened. You will have a talk with James’ later…

Oops, you need to prepare breakfast first, or else the house will be loud with complaining children about breakfast and having zoomies.

10:30AM.

Kids awake, Veronica somehow knew James’ phone number and invited him over without your knowledge, you only knew that when James told you, “huh? Veronica said you invited me over to come eat breakfast with you guys.”

Spacing out on the table, mind is full of thoughts and question while Veronica is standing on James’ chair while he sits, being also fed by the little girl when James could feed himself, but since knowing Veronica for being a little overdramatic. James couldn’t help but to play along to Veronica’s antics.

James would steal a glance at you every minute while letting Veronica yap and Kenan asking him question about stuff that curious the little boy, though you still refuse to speak the things that are on your mind yesterday—about what he had told you, maybe… just maybe…

Cradling Leo into your arms, looking at him taking a nap on your embrace—thinking about what he had told you earlier when he got his sleep disturb, is it by the lights or perhaps he had nightmares that he never told you about?

You were in the park with James, watching the kids play while Leo takes a nap in your embrace. Silence was deafening between the two of you, for James—it’s like you were out of reach to talk to because of yesterday’s conversation. He thought about explaining, but what is to explain when in the end, he still took an innocent life?

“You know, I have thought about it…” you start, filling the silence and giving James hope to finally talk to you again, “yeah?” he respond, taking his eyes off from the kids playing and searching something in your eyes, “w... Why did you killed Mary?” you asked, covering Leo’s ear incase he’ll hear.

James just shook his head, opening his mouth then closing it again, finding the right words to say, “I… I just didn’t want her to suffer.” He sighs, covering his face with both of his hands, “I-I know she still has three years to live and yet, I.. I killed her, I…” he starts to stutter and slur his words, his heart racing and his ears ringing—getting a bit dizzy when he speaks his situation, it’s too much for him.

Why? Is all he could ask himself.

Why did he do it?

Someone’s calling out to him… “h… ey…” it said, his breathing became shallow and making it hard to him to breathe.

“James!” you yelled, hand grasping his shoulder while the other is still cradling Leo asleep, you frown in worry— how his face went pale and starts sweating cold sweats, “are you okay?” You asked, voice shaking because it looks like he’s going to collapse any time soon.

He shakes his head and finally snaps out of it, “I-I’m fine.” He assures, blinking a few times as he leans back to the bench, “memories are probably getting to me… Even that place.” He murmur, leaning his head back and letting out a big sigh.

“Silent hill?” you curiously raised a brow, Leo steer awake and sat up to your lap, “mwommy…” Leo whines, hands clenched to your shoulder while he used the other to rub his eye, blinking at James, “Jwames?” he murmur, “yeah buddy?” James smiled, unexpectedly—Leo lift his arms to James, silently asking for James to pick him up to his grasp.

Silence filled in yet again, you two just sit on the bench while Kenan, Junior and Veronica still plays on the slides and swings. Leo eyed on the two of you, as if trying to crack an unsolved case, “awre you in love with my mwommy, James?” Leo squint his eyes to him, brows frowning at James—the man could also let out a small chuckle, “I like your mom as my friend, bud. Why do you ask?” he says, Leo shook his head that says ‘nothing!’

Leo could only play with James calloused hands, tracing his small finger tips to James’ fingers, your conversation with James was just interrupted by your son—but it doesn’t matter. You already heard James’ reason for killing Mary, but it still isn’t justified why he took her life…

But now that you think about it…

Three years to live with the disease that really made a huge impact in your life… Slashing out to your cherished ones without a reason, no complete control of your temper and mood, almost completely losing your mind because of the sudden change of your mood swings… Then drugs are fed to you just to have a complete grasp of your actual self.

Wouldn’t you wish to just die too?

Letting out a sigh as you finally come to a conclusion in mind, “James… was Mary been fed some type of drugs just to have… you know, to have a complete control of herself?” you asked, it takes a few minutes before he answer, nodding faintly, “yeah.. yeah, probably…” he hums, Leo is tracing the indent or trace of a ring to James’ ring finger.

Leo lifts James hand up and asked him, “you has ring?” the boy asked, “is Jwames has wife?” he added, James nodded to his question and Leo shot you a look, “mwommy, James has wife which mweans you cwan’t shoot youwr shot.” Said Leo, making you gasp and speechless at what your son just said, you? Hit on James? As if, right?

“but,” start James, looking down at Leo’s baby blues, “bit, my wife is gone… to a happy place, you know?” he pats his head and smiles, “oooh…” Leo’s lips form in a shape of an O then said, “she’s died.” With a straight innocent face and nodded with understanding.

James doesn’t know whether he would laugh at him or just be concern how Leo knew that, you almost snicker but cough and cleared your throat—neither of you spoke such things with Leo again.

The kids finally got tired and asked to go home.

What a day, right?

Walking back home with James helping you with the kids, again. In his arms are holding two of your kids that took a nap on each of his shoulders; Veronica and Kenan got very tired, Junior on the other hand, had some energy left to just walk home by foot.

Since they’ve already eaten dinner (went out to eat dinner), James helped you change your kids into their pajamas and put them to sleep in their rooms, leaving Junior last because he isn’t sleepy for now, “Junior, you’ve already change into your jammies,” you raise your brows at him, “c’mon now, let’s get you tucked in bed.” Gesturing your hand to him to come to you.

Junior waved his hand to James then off to bed, “bye-bye James.” Junior murmur, you could tell he still likes to have a dew more minutes with the man but he needs his sleep, tucking him in bed and kissing his forehead goodnight.

Which leaves you and James alone in your own home, silence and gap between you as you reluctantly sat down beside James, and knowing you’re still bothered. He created some distance between the two of you, you glanced at him, he’s still as miserable as ever but he’s trying to have a positive look—especially when the kids were around.

You let out a sigh, leaning your back to the soft cushion of your couch, “d-.. do you think Mary would forgive you?” you asked, finally looking over him at the other end of your couch, large distance he made to make you comfortable, it takes him a few courage to look and meet your gaze, “I.. I don’t know… But the most thing she’ll ask is… why did I killed her.” He murmur.

You just nod and let silence sit between you, heart heavy and the atmosphere gloomy.

“But she did want the pain to end soon right?” you asked, slowly scooting over to him, “James, knowing you these past few days—” you cut yourself off, bluffing your words, “I mean, three entire days to be exact. It feels like I’ve known a friend for a long time, you became a familiar feeling so… I wanted to say that…” you took a sharp breath and takes his hand to yours.

“You have many things left unsaid, don’t you?” caressing his hand and tracing the indent mark of his ring finger, “doesn’t it feel heavy, to just bottle it all up?” You asked, your tone soft and understanding—just like Mary he thought. But he couldn’t compare you to her, you’re you. And Mary is herself. Yet he finds solace to your comforting words and tone, your presence too.

He misses this feeling, how his heart pounds out as he lets out his cries—you see tears finally running down to his cheeks. You let out a soft sigh and soothes his back, letting him weep and cry his heart out, “there are still some things you want to say to Mary, right?” you asked, “ask her… If she could forgive you for what you’ve done, and that she may understand why you had done it.” You hum.

But it still doesn’t change the fact she’s gone…

A minute passed and he finally calmed down, his breath hitches as he just stared off to your floor, “tea?” you offered a mug to him which he happily takes it and sips, “how about we visit Mary tomorrow?” you suggested, sipping on your tea while staring blankly at the wall too.

He thought about it, maybe it’s time to finally say the things he left unsaid… His regrets, his happiest time with her and the life that they had, though in just a blink of an eye, it was all gone… She’s gone.

James nod at your suggestion, caressing the mug that he’s holding, “yeah… I think I would love that…” a small smile tug from the corner of his lips, you smiled back but you don’t know whether to judge his character or not… But it’s up to Mary to decide that.

“Great, I’ll call my friends and father to come babysit my kids tomorrow morning,” she hums, “well, since it’s scheduled that my father will take them anyway for some bonding time for a whole week.” She chuckles, taking the mug from your hands to wash it on the sink.

He stood up and nod to your words, “well, I better get going then.” He voice out, although a bit trouble to turn his back and leave, “goodnight.” He said, you nod and said your goodnight to him too, but something caught his eye. Something was covered with a white floral fabric, it looks like a piano of some sort?

His brows furrow with curiosity, looking back at you washing the remaining dishes and back at the covered piano, “h-hey..” he called, “what’s this?” he points, you turn to look at him but what he’s pointing at is being covered by the wall, “wait,” you dry your hands with a clean cloth and walk towards him.

You turn to see what he’s pointing at… Your piano, “oh.. I-it’s uhm.. a piano,” you nervously chuckle, “why’d you cover it?” James took the white floral fabric off and revealing a black upright piano that goes against the wall, you thin your lips because you covered the piano because of Mary.

“You play?” James asked, lifting the cover to reveal the keys, “you still haven’t answer my first question though.” He added and sat on the piano stool, just to feel the keys. You sigh and just tell him why you covered your piano up, “yes I play and I covered it because well… It reminds you of Mary, you said that Mary plays right?” you smiled and pressed one key down, hoping that your kids wouldn’t hear it.

“I just.. don’t want you to remember a painful memory when you’re with us…” you admitted, looking down at the keys, “I play for my kids whenever they want to hear me play, then sometimes they will play the piano badly to the point where your ears would bleed.” You chuckle, sharing one precious memory with him, opening up just like how he did to you.

He smiled and let out a small laugh with you, “well uhm… Play one for me then?” he requested, you raise a brow and nodded, “uhm, yeah sure…” preparing your fingers up to the keys and asked him, “what song?”

“something that resonate with you most.”

You nodded and fulfill his request, it was slow and melodic… It suddenly became fast and your fingers easily pressed the right keys swiftly, quick and smoothly taking one finger off to pressed another key…

You played river flows in you by Yiruma.

It’s something about that song that hits home, how it describes ones person love, representing how love grows on two different people with two different worlds and yet… Love always make things hurt or work, it’s a representation of feeling in love… But for you, the song also makes you cry and how you dedicate this song to the person you also lost.

James stayed silent to the whole song until it ended, “wow” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. You’re not Mary, and never will. You played it like a pro and James now knew the difference and accepted that, he wanted to clap but was outdone by someone else.

“wow mwommy!” claps Veronica, beaming despite being sleepy, you snap your head to look at the kids being awake, how long were they standing there to watch you play?

You suddenly stood up and looks down at them, “how long were you guys watching huh?” you asked with a sweet soft smile, kneeling to their level to give them an individual kiss on their cheeks, “mwommy, play us again pwease…” plead Kenan while sitting on the floor with his stuffed plush on his arms, Leo had his arms fold… here we go again.

Raising a brow at Leo while James pulled down the cover of the piano keys, still sitting on the piano stool, “mwommy are you confwessing ywour wove to Jwames or somethwing?” Leo asked with suspicion, you snicker at his words and shake your head, “James asked me to play a song that resonate with me most, baby. Why do you asked?”

“bwecause mwommy, wivers fwows in you repwesent the feeling of bweing in wove.” He smartly answers and tuts at you, “so, it’s nwormal fwor me to assume thwat you’re confwessing mwommy.” He added, you just gently flick his forehead for his smartass answer and picked him up.

Junior comes and hugs your legs, gripping tightly with his sleepy eyes looking up at you, what Junior asked shocked you most.

“is Jwames now our daddy?”

“…”

Silence…

Junior blinks at you with his sleepy eyes, yawning and waiting for your answers—he just doesn’t know what he said wrong, always jumping to conclusions when given the opportunity, you open your mouth to answer but no words were uttered out but Junior speaks again, “bwecause mwommy, I vewy like Jwames…” he yawns, admitting his likeness to James.

James on the other hand, is smiling from the piano stool. It feels like, he’s wanted—belonged even, his heart swells when an innocent kid thinks high regard of him, even though in his mind. He’s just a normal guy doing nothing special, “well, hate to break it to you buddy,” said James, getting to his feet and meeting his level, “I-.. I’m not.” He thin his lips as he breaks it to Junior, shaking his head—meeting the kids innocent gaze.

“…oh.” Juniors late reaction, he’s still sleepy but you can tell he’s a bit upset about it, clasping your hands together and breaking the news to everybody that it’s bed time and a little late and that everyone needs sleep for tonight.

Taking the kids back to bed again, Junior frowning when he finally sleeps. It took a little while for Leo to comfort his brother that got really attached to James, you couldn’t blame him. James may see himself nothing special, but to the kids—he is special. To them, and to you (as a friend)

Tomorrow, your father would take the kids for a whole week to bond and some alone time for yourself, and tomorrow… You’ll accompany James to Mary’s grave… Help him say his goodbye and support him along his healing journey along the way, it’s time to say goodbye and start anew right?

James bid goodbye for the last time to get himself some sleep and prepare himself for tomorrow, recite what he wants to say probably? Recall the memories he want to share and his burdens and regret. But what about the letter..?

What letter..?

Woke up early, needing to pack the clothes of your kids, make them breakfast, give them shower and let them choose what kind of stuff plush they’d bring with them. They were excited and Junior probably forgot yesterday’s conversation, he thinks it’s just a silly little dream… But he did share his thoughts with you when he woke up feeling good.

“Jwames became our daddy!” he said that when he woke up first thing in the morning, the kids loved that guy to the point that one by one—they’ll think James is now their daddy.

After packing a one suitcase since the kids also have clothes at your fathers place (gifted and bought by friends too), so you and your kids waited a few minutes outside to be picked up by car by one of your closed friends, when they arrived—they chill for a few minutes, engaged conversation with you and catch up for the times that you had missed with them.

Then they left to with your kids, they’ll be arriving at your fathers place to take care of them and of course, your friends too. And now… You’re alone.

Not entirely… You have James, and today is the day you’ll be accompanying him, getting ready and had your breakfast. You need at least to look good and give Mary a good impression to meet her, befriend even the dead, right?

You heard a knock on your door, you put on your beret hat and smooth out your dress. Heels clicking that even James could hear from outside, the door open and revealed James before you, “hi.” You smiled, “good morning, how’re you?” you asked, taking your purse with you as you step outside.

He tilts his head, eyes squint a little as he points slowly at your attire, “what… uhm… are you wearing?” he asked slowly, not wanting to sound offensive, you huff and put your hand on your hip, “well, if I’m meeting your late-wife, I at least need to look presentable so that she’ll like me as your friend.” He just nodded and whispered, “okay.”

Stepping down to your porch step, turning back and look at him, “what? Come on now, let’s move.” You tut, he shakes his head with a small smile—walking down towards you, guiding you to his car as you sat down on the passenger seat of his car.

“It’ll be a long ride though.” He advised you, buckling his belt as you did yours, pulling out your mirror to tidy your hair, “yeah, that’s fine.” You assure, he looks over to you—finally starting the car and drove off, “yeah? What about your kids?” he asked out of concern, looking at the road and back at the rearview mirror.

You hum, repositioning yourself in your seat—still looking at yourself in the mirror not until you heard some paper crunch or something, “oh, shit. I think I just sat on to something.” You curse softly, completely caught off guard when you heard.

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about the kids, my friend picked them up.” You assured, looking down at your seat and finding the paper that you just sat on, “my father and possibly some friends will help to take care of them.” You added, “ah—ha!” you finally caught the paper you sat on under your seat, “you have a letter, James. Don’t you want to read it?”

He's assured that your kids are safe and sound with your father and friends that’ll love them and take care of them with all of their hearts, “a letter?” he asked, taking a quick glance of it on your hands, “oh…” his face turned gloomy again, the same first look you saw from him when you two first met.

“Are you all right?”

“Nothing… I still haven’t read that letter.” He stop at the red light, a light traffic jam, “oh, you want to read it now?” you asked, “and who is it from?” it piqued your interest, but you wouldn’t open to snoop around and find out, right? James finally drove the car again, letting out a small sigh.

“Mary.”

“sorry what?” you asked yet again, busy inspecting the envelope of the letter, “it’s from Mary.” He repeated, steering the wheel to the right, as he continue, “the nurse gave it to me when… Mary passed.” He cleared his throat, clearly a sign that he doesn’t want to talk about it—you just nod and caress the letter on your fingertips.

A few minutes in the ride, atmosphere a little heavy as silence carried on. You could only watch from the car window—tress, houses nor clouds pass, James could only steal a glance at you from time to time until he finally spoke about the letter, “could you… uhm…” he cough.

You almost nod off, but quickly gathered yourself together, “yeah?” you sleepily respond, yawning a bit and rubbing your temple, “what’s up?”

“could you read the letter for me, so.. you know, I know what Mary wrote before I face her.” He hums, turning left and straight ahead of the road, you nod at his request and open the glove compartment and took the letter to your hands. Letting out a sharp breath because opening a letter that meant to him made you nervous.

Slowly opening the envelope and taking out the folded paper inside—unfold it and cleared your throat as you began to read what Mary had wrote to James, “are you ready?” you asked, you could hear his breath shake as he nod, “ready.”

You finally start from the very beginning…

“Well, this letter has gone on too long, so I’ll say goodbye. I told the nurse to give this to you after I’m gone.”

You stopped for a moment and looked over to James, his knuckles almost turning white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, his eyes quickly glanced at you and assured you silently that he’s fine.

“Which means that, as you’re reading this, I’m already dead.”

Your lips thinned, brows furrow as your heart aches from Mary’s letter, and as if James’ ears had gone deaf and that it’s Mary’s voice is all he could hear.

“But that’s okay. I’m not afraid of it anymore, I just hope that the pain will end soon so that you remember me for who I was…”

Pause…

“and not what the disease made me… I want you to go on, I want you to live… For yourself and for the others, like you did for me.”

Your voiced cracked and held back a tear to shed, you look at James in silence before continuing on—his eyes were full of tears, silently sobbing and trying to focus on the road.

“You’ve given me so much and I haven’t been able to return a single thing. That’s why I want you to live for yourself now. Do what’s best for you James.”

Can’t help but share his burden as tears fell from the corner of your eyes, burning your cheeks as you read the last line.

But you also called his name…

“James… You made me happy.” It said when the letter ended, but even when the letter ended, you also called out to James who seems to park to stop for a while—you reached out and soothe him to his shoulder, his breathing hitches as he inhale sharply.

Scooting a bit close so you could lean close to him, “it’s okay, we can stop for now…” you mutter, stopping your own tears from falling, cooing him and soothing him down as he waves his hand to dismiss it, “n-no.. no…” he cleared his throat, leaning his head back to his seat, “we’re already here…”

You stayed with the car, getting some fresh air after reading Mary’s letter to James, you’ve witness it—how deeply hurt he is and how he regretted everything… But it seems to you that in the letter, no matter what—Mary would always forgive and wait for James.

He walked towards Mary’s grave, he didn’t brought anything with him except some flowers to give her. He knelt in her tombstone and wipe a dust off of it as you watch him from your distance. Since it’s for the best that James do his thing first before introducing yourself as his friend to her.

“Hey..” James called as he knelt down, he looks down at Mary’s craved name on the tombstone as he look for the right words to say, “Mary… I’m here, sorry to keep you waiting.” He smiles as he continues, placing a single flower on her stone.

He searches for something, but she’s not here with him—she couldn’t look at him and meet his gaze, she’s dead. He knew that but his eyes still searched and longed for her presence, how he could tell her that he loved her for the last time, share one… just one more moment with her.

But he never knew that the last moment he would share with his deceased lover would be her tombstone staring right back at him with her named craved on it.

“you know…” he starts, “I was convinced that… I..” he takes a deep breath and continue, “I just… can’t go on without you…” he huffs, touching the stone in front of him in his thumb, “I couldn’t forgive myself for what I’ve done… And… I miss you so, so much.” He sob, sharply inhaling and gathering his thoughts and putting it into words.

As if his mind was playing with him, he could hear her reply to him—engaging a conversation with him for the last time, maybe he’s in denial but it’ll be their last…

“shh, it’s okay, James…” the spirit smiles as he let out a chuckle, he thinks he’s out of his mind but he continues, “I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for what I did… I should’ve made more memories with you, Mary…”

“yet you’ve already given me so much.”

He smiles faintly, tears burning his face as he sniffle, “I’m so, so sorry… I know this isn’t what you’d want.” He scoff to himself, “seeing me like this, but it doesn’t matter anymore… right?” he asked the wind.

Chinning up to the sky as the clouds covered the blue sky, “you’re not here… are you?”

No answer… Maybe his mind is playing tricks with him, maybe he’s just mad and crazy or maybe too depressed than he thought, he looks down at her tombstone again, “you don’t have to keep waiting for me, Mary… Just as you wish, I will try to go on and live…” he murmur, taking out a photograph of Mary and setting it down with the flower.

“for myself.. and maybe for the others too,” he smiled at the smiling photo of her, “I found another home… that made me happy, like how I did for you too..”

He stayed silent for a little while, turning his head around to quickly glance at you, “Mary.” He called, closing his eyes and as if to feel the wind hugging him.

“thank you.”

From the distance, it feels like James is giving his all—doing his best to word it all his burdens out and the problems off of his shoulder, you could only wait for him to call you to introduce you to her.

He’s having the time of his life chatting with her, you could really see that… he really did love her. Oh, how you wished to find a man that would also love you like how James loved Mary…

You’re alone with your own thoughts as you watch the clouds move pass and cover the blue sky, you seem to be nodding off when James came over to you—his hand grasp on your shoulder and snap you back from reality, “woah!” You let out a yelp, got startled a little as you look over and saw James in front of you.

“yeah? Already good?” you asked, brows furrowing with worry but you could tell that his heart feels a little lighter than it is in the past few days. He nod, taking your hands to his as he gently tug you away from his car, “c’mon…” his voice soft when he whispers, urging you to walk with him to her grave.

You knelt down after James did and met with Mary’s photograph with the flowers on top, your heart swells with so much pleasure and honor to finally meet her—even if it’s just her tombstone…

You introduced yourself with four kids that are quadruplets and shared a story that your little devils had taken a liking to James, even joking about how one of them even asked if James is now their daddy. He chuckles at your story and how enthusiastic you are to share this with Mary, he also share some memories with you when he’s still with Mary and that the two met by a mutual friend. He shares the piece of memory that Mary plays the piano and how bad she is.

But even so, James’ told Mary that, “I would still love to hear her play.” With the sweetest smile that you’ve ever seen, it took almost hours just to tell and share a story nor a memory with a friend, you and James bid a final farewell as James asked you to be the first one to get in the car and that’ll he’ll follow.

He took something from inside his jacket… His wedding ring, he kneels down and buried it with her, “I know you wanted me to be happy… And yet.” He turns back and looks over to you inside his car, “I think I’ve found my happiness, Mary… Another reason for me to continue living on with my life, but this time it’s not with you, but them.” He emphasize and thought about the kids and obviously… you.

Maybe it was Mary’s wish to have a family and he granted that wish, she’s still alive in his mind and in his heart—he carried on to her wish for a family and… James found that family, he smiled at her tombstone for the last time, leaving the ring buried with her.

Thank you, Mary… Thank you…

James finally got inside and start the car, you smiled over to him as he backs and drove off, “already accepted it?” you asked as he gave you a smile and nod, “I’ve finally learned to accept it.” He said, now aiming for the two of you to go home…

Where is home to James?

Home is where he’s needed most, which means home is where you and your kids will be…

It’s now time for him to start a new book, new pages and chapters in his life without Mary, but with you and your four devils… And he couldn’t wait what’s in store for him and his fate…

It gone dark, and James parked his car to his garage. He looks over to you and see that you had gone asleep while he drives the two of you back home. Didn’t think that the visit will get you this tired, wouldn’t you?

Still in his car and thinking what will he do… carry you inside and let you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch or… look for your keys on your purse and carry you inside your own home and leave?

But, you know what? He had gone to the first option and carried you inside his home—you only just live next door so it’ll be no problem, right? Carefully setting you down to his own bed, smoothing your dress down so it won’t cripple up and think of him as a pervert. He then takes the blanket and tuck you in while he takes your purse and hat, setting it to the bedside table and taking your heels off too.

His hands on his hips as he let out a huge sigh, you’re not that heavy to carry—it’s just, he got tired too easily and he’s having trouble opening the door with one hand, trying to not wake you up while he’s at it.

You stir and turn to your side, tasting the air as you peacefully have your slumber. He kneels down beside you, brushing off a strand of hair from your face and stared at you for a while…

Maybe… Just maybe…

He had already fallen for you.

But not because you share the same similarities of Mary’s personality, it’s because you’re you… you’re on your own person, why does he have to compare you to another? You’re unique and different.

Maybe that’s why, he has finally gave in to the feeling and sensation of butterflies.

“that’s it… I admit,” he says, smiling at your sleeping face, “you don’t know how far I’ve finally fallen for you.” He murmur.

You heard someone murmur so close to you, but you didn’t heard it quite right, a mumble perhaps and just get your goodnight rest and James on the other hand was true to his word and sleeps on the couch, making himself comfortable.

Shit, maybe this new chapter of his life will be the death of him.

You were at peace, your surroundings are a little too quiet for your surroundings—where are the kids? They usually jump on your bed and shake you awake, a smile spread from your face when you remember that Junior asked if James is now their daddy… It was ridiculous, but what if it’s possible that you two dated..? You didn’t think James would actually agree to it, since well… Being a father is a big commitment for you and for the kids.

Then you remembered, you were suppose to accompany James’ visit to Mary yet you fell asleep. What if he needed your support? What then..?

You stir in your sleep, heart pounding and awake in cold sweat as you heard someone fumble right on the living room, “ow—” the voice said, eyes fluttering as you rub your eyes and temple, sitting up in bed and look around—this isn’t your home.

Well, where were you then?

You groan, feeling a bit heavy as you focus your vision, “James..?” you called, the rearing of something like a vacuum turned off—hearing footsteps come closer and louder as the bedroom door opened, “yeah?” it was James. He’s just cleaning his living room, “oh yeah, sorry. You were uhm…” he looks around and set the vacuum down then came closer and sat on the edge of the bed, he sat in silence as he meets your gaze. You smiled at him, seeing how the spark in his eyes were back.

“Did I fell asleep?” you asked, rubbing your eyes. He then helps you sit down next to him, “I’m sorry, I know I’m supposed to be there with you while we visit Mary.” He hushes you and nod, “hey, hey…” he called, looking down at your tired state, “it’s okay,” he softly smiles, “we were supposed to get home anyway, and uh… I don’t know that if I should wake you up so you could go home and rest but—” he pauses, thinning his lips—feeling a little ounce of shame, “I just carried you inside my house and let you rest on my bed.”

You smiled and let out a big yawn, you mind finally at ease as you meet his eyes, “I hope I didn’t wake you up though,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I was cleaning while you were asleep, didn’t want a guest to see my home in such a messy state.” He added, his white teeth almost showing.

You let out a sigh and pat his shoulder, “it’s okay, big guy.” You snicker, “I get you.” You added, then sat in silence. You two could only have a stare off and the tension is odd, clearing your throat as you get up to your feet and hands on your hips, “I should be going… Sorry for uhm…” awkward, he stands up after you and waves his hand, “no, no. It’s okay, you were exhausted and we both cried our eyes out… so yeah.”

And there it is, the awkward tension between the two like it’s the first time they have met, but why does it feel that James is more of a changed man? As if he’s finally at peace with his own mind now that he’s smiling more often, his eyes even shone a little if you weren’t mistaking it.

Maybe because of Mary, he just needed to let those feelings out and talk to her—she was the reason that makes him what he is now, you smiled and grab both of his shoulder and utter the words you’re meaning to say, “I’m so proud of you.”

Tilting your head to the side, he froze and smiled at your words, “yeah… I’m proud of myself too, you know?” grinning from ear to ear as you look at the time, “wanna get breakfast?” James spoke, cutting you off before you could even speak and suggest that you two should eat breakfast, looking at him—feeling a bit smug as you squint, “all… right, sure I would love that.” Accepting his invitation, you first will take a shower and change into a new set of clothes.

Gathering your shower thoughts and thinking back at Mary’s grave, when you were watching him from the distance—he was pouring his all and heart out, you don’t know whether there was a fog on their or the wind was picking up, but as if you saw someone responding to him… or your mind is just playing tricks?

Nonetheless, it made him at peace finally, learning to finally accept things the way it were—he regret and renew for the better, for himself and as Mary said—and for the others.

Finally got yourself ready to meet James outside, waiting on your front porch, “James?” you called, closing your front door and locking it with your keys, coming down your porch steps as you brush off strands of hair from your face, “yeah? Ready to go?” he asked, eyeing you from your feet up to your face, “so, do I look all right?” you asked him with a small smile, he nod slowly—taking it all in, heart pounding, letting out a sharp breath, “y-.. yeah, you look fine..?” he almost slurs his words from stuttering, his words almost coming out as a question than validation.

You let out a snicker, finding his sudden shyness cute, like how any other guy felt when they had a crush or some type of feels that gives them butterflies, you just nod at him with a grin on your face, “all right,” ignoring the way he talks, he’ll be self-conscious about it, “where to?” you asked, nudging his shoulder.

“you wanna get some breakfast, right?” he asked, raising a brow, you shrug in response, “I mean, yeah, surprise me.” You remark, blinking at him with a cheeky smile—you reach out and grab his arm and tug him towards the town.

For James, it feels like it was meant to be a date—he’s a coward; how would you know he’s taking you out for a date? He’s scared to ask; if he did, then he might chicken out and ditch. But he wouldn’t do that; it’s not like in the past few days that it meant nothing—it means everything to him. How every passing day, he is slowly accepting and falling deeper into the feeling that he had once lost.

A home.

He’s also quite thankful that your kids wouldn’t be here for a week. Then he will try and make you fall for him within a week, not that he hasn’t fallen for you yet. Little did you know… He’s falling very, very hard. As if he’d be willing to drown and swim deep into the ocean for you.

How come you didn’t question that in every shop that you point at, he’ll encourage you to come inside yet when you didn’t find what interested you; he will keep asking you question like; “are you sure?” “how about this one?” “don’t you think this suits you?”

It's like he’s convincing you to take at least one then you two could leave the shop, he pays for everything and even takes the ones you had touch to the counter, and pays for it. You glare and tried to stop him but his response is always the same; “it’s fine, think of it as my repayment.,”

Repayment for what exactly? You asked yourself, as you finally find yourself sitting on a café and he orders lunch for the two of you. You sit in silence, gathering you own thoughts and confront James about it and these… 10 paper bags that’s sitting on the side of his chair, you pinch the bridge of your nose and think about repaying him with all the stuff he bought for you.

He came back with a number plate to have the waiters serve the order to your table, “what’s up?” he asked, taking his seat as he rest his elbows on top of the table, he frowns when he finds you looking troubled, “hey… you okay?” he reached out to brush a strand of hair off from your face.

You shake your head slowly in response with a faint smile, “it’s nothing… It’s just, you bought so much stuff.” You point out, finger-pointing at the paper bags from different stores in town, he looks down from each of it and nodded, “yeah, they’re for you, though.” He utter, tilting his head to the side, “don’t you like it?” he question, his tone a little down and sad—did he go too far and crossed the line?

“No, no… I love it, you’re so thoughtful and generous… I’m just worried about uhm… how much you just spent on every bag…” you murmur, voicing it down so other people wouldn’t hear and assume that you two are arguing. You think about the offer you’re about to give him, and you know what?

Fuck it. You clasp your hands, startling him and making him almost jump up from his seat, “you scared me.” He smiled, the waiter finally had gone to your table and set down the drinks and slices of cakes down. You two muttered thank yous to the waiter with a smile then back at meeting each other’s gaze.

“So.” You start, “how about I repay you?” you hush him before he could protest, “a-upupupup!” you squint, “I’m not finish, like. How about half the price of all these bags?” you asked, “you just spent too much, James. I feel bad.” You frown, taking one of the bags and looking at what’s inside, a plush that you wanted to get but couldn’t and yet James bought it for you.

“No, you d—”

“James, please.”

You plead, his eyes fixated to yours—even your eyes seems to be pleading at him. He finds it so… adorable? Cute, pretty, stunning, and all of the above. His heart racing just hearing your plea. He cough and took his eyes away from you, picking up his fork and slicing his own cake to shove it down his throat.

It feels like he just ignored you and kept eating his slice. You cleared your throat to get a reaction, you sigh when there’s none, reaching out and put your hand on top of his, he flinched and looked back at you—drinking his frappe. You frown at him, pulling his hand to his surprise, pinning it down with your elbow as you took your purse and started to count your paper bucks.

You gave a hundred bucks and closed his fingers around it, as he finally had his hand back, he sucks in his cheeks and counted it in silence—you’re content and start to eat your own slice and sip the drink he had bought you, not until he slides back a few bucks back at you.

Taking it quickly to your hands and counted the money, he only took ten and gave you the rest, you frown and anger rising, “James!” you yelled, he chuckles and put his index finger to his lips and pointed at the people behind him, knowing you wouldn’t cause a scene, though they got startled too and looked back as you shot them with an apologetic look. Widening your eyes at James, finally eating lunch in silence.

After the day ends (which James considered a “date”), he walks you back home with the ten paper bags that he’s carrying, attracting attention from the other neighbors, you open your door and pulled him inside so they wouldn’t be questioned, “you can just leave the bags on the couch.” You advised and gone to your kitchen to wash your hands, “yeah, sure.” He hums, you could hear him gently rummage off the bag from his hand one by one, carefully placing each one down.

You admit, it was fun being alone with James. Being showered with gifts that he voluntarily bought you, buy you lunch and the simple gesture that made you happy. You smiled while you dry your hands, James came towards you and tap your shoulder, “hey.” He called, you turn with a big smile on your face, “hey… uhm… You know, today uhm..”

“No, it’s okay, I know I went overboard but I couldn’t help it.” He sighs and took your hands to his, spreading his own warmth to your own hands, “no it’s okay, it’s just— James, I feel really, really bad that you had spend so much money and not give me a chance to spend my own.” You frown, not liking that one person is spending too much on another.

James smiled and nodded, “yeah.. uh… fine, I’ll calm it down.” You heard him chuckle, it was soft and gentle—you feel your own stomach do the thing but it’s just friendly gesture towards friend, right? Thinning your lips as you nod, you gave him a hug, letting out a sigh, “I’m glad to have you as my friend, James. You made my day… I badly needed it.” You chuckle, pulling yourself from him and pat his shoulders.

Friend..? He’s still considered as your friend… He knew he got to try harder, but not get overboard or it’ll throw you off. He sighs and nodded, “yeah, I figured…” he pauses as you turned around to check your fridge, “oh, I gotta get some groceries.” Mutter to yourself, he caught that and maybe… Grocery date?

“oh, uhm…” James reached out, “Are you free uh—” he cough, shaking his legs and shift his weight, “like uhm..”

“free this week? Yeah, I am but I gotta get some groceries, my fridge is almost empty…” you mutter, scratching your chin with your index finger, “yeah, it’s fine. I could help with that.” James spoke quickly in response, clearing his throat as if its itchy. You closed the fridge and squint your eyes at him, smiling, “okay, I expect some company tomorrow just for buying groceries, huh?”

He pursed his lips and nod, “yeah, I could help you carry them.” He smiles with his eyes, longing and touch starved. He wants to hold your hand for a bit longer, but he resisted; you might see him as a freak if he did.

“All right, it’s set then?” you asked and he nodded, “you should head home, getting a bit dark now.” You added as you escort him to your door, “oh, and James?” stopping him for a second, holding his wrist and looked at him in the eyes, “thank you.” Then let go.

James paused and nodded, his finger brushing a strand of hair from your face and set it behind your ear, “you’re welcome.” He says softly and left.

The next day came and he really did helped you with your groceries, pushing the cart and sort them out when you just throw it in and don’t sort it out so he’s doing the job for you. So that when you’re going to check out, it’ll be easy for the packer to pack and separate the snacks, detergents, raw food, and some cooking essentials—all the hygiene materials you need are on the basket beneath the cart.

He insist paying on the half but fought him for it, smacking his hand from giving the cashier his money—he winces and just laughs about and let it slide, don’t want to cause a scene and for him. The date was slightly at success, his goal was to make you smile and laugh… Enjoy your day and surprised you with a single flower that he picked up from a bush that grew some daisies.

After grocery, he invited you to have a stroll around town and be familiar with it—asking you directions and taking your hand to have a stroll around. Chatting and telling stories of your past as he asked you questions about your favorites along the way, like; “what’s your favorite color?” “roses or tulips? No?” “okay, so. Dresses or..?”

Some common questions that you wouldn’t notice that he’s hitting on you and taking notes of what you love and dislikes, what you’d do on your spare time and favorite thing to do. He’s making an effort—he really is. He just… felt a connection, he really fell hard—too hard that he’ll probably let you suffocate him (with a pillow or with love?)

It took, two days… three to a whole week of spending time with him everyday without the kids, he’s grateful for that but what the fuck—he’s stressing because you always dismiss his romantic gestures to a friendly one, assuming that he’s just being kind and a caring friend.

“Aw, aren’t you such a good friend?”

“why thank you, my good friend.”

“we are friends, right?”

And… he would be lying if it isn’t stressing him out and a week had already passed, the kids would be back home in a few hours, he sighs and waits outside in case that a car would park in front and take the kids per your request to James, you said to him that you two would wait for them outside but you’re taking so long inside your home.

Worried, he steps inside and couldn’t see you on the living room to the kitchen, he saw the door of your room ajar—he pushed it wide and saw you looking at your nose on your body length mirror, “hey.” He called, leaning on the doorframe, hands on the pockets of his jacket, “you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine…” you turn to him, trying to fix your nose contour and adventuring with it, but to him; it looks like you broke your nose from the distance as panic sets in his eyes. You didn’t even get to blink when he dashed towards you, grabbed your cheeks with two of his hands—squishing your cheeks as he inspects your nose, “what the hell happened to your nose?” his tone raised with concern and curiosity.

You groan, having your head tilt with the direction he wants, tilting your head to the side, “ow— James..!” You mumble, lips pouting as his eyes were still wide with horror, it just look like you had broken your nose in such way that’s not possible, “its just my nose contour!” you muffle out, taking his wrist to your hand and trying to pull his grip down, “no, my nose isn’t broken. I’m just having fun with it.” You added, letting out a small snort and laugh.

He rest his forehead to yours and let out a sigh of relief, “not going to lie, that scared me.” He murmur, his breath close to yours as you snicker at him, “I’ll wipe it off and I will do what I usually do on my nose contour.”

“okay, I’ll be right outside okay?” his thumb caress both of your cheeks, tracing circles in a longing and loving way as his eyes bores into yours… the look of being in love, you hum in respond and to him, time and the world stopped just by looking at your eyes.

You two stayed in the same pose for a little while as you notice that he’s been sleeping and eating well, taking good care of himself while he’s admiring you, but before you could touch his face—you heard a small pitch voice coming from your door, “oooh!” you looked as James quickly retreat his hands and put it back to his pocket, and you saw a grinning Veronica from the door of your room.

The kids were already here and witness something that’ll make them go crazy and assume things, “OMG!” yelled Junior, running towards James and hugged the back of his legs, “Jwames is now daddy!” he says, giggling and rubbing his face to James’ jeans.

“Wow.” Says Leo, Kenan on the other hand is sitting on the floor with his stuff plush in his hands—watching his other sibling make a ruckus about the two of you, Veronica giggling and getting butterflies, Junior keeps repeating that James is now their ‘daddy.’

Being a father (well, step-father) is a big commitment, he knew that but… he couldn’t help but fell in love with these kids too, how he feels needed and would look for, they would look for James if he had gone missing, he can take that especially Junior and Veronica would cry if he disappeared.

He welcomed them with open arms, you got down to their level and greeted them with big hugs—running at you with their little arms flying to your neck and giggles and their little aggression roar. Trying to out best you with your tight hug, but they couldn’t, and love your big tight hugs.

You and James did indoor games for the kids, bake them the snacks that they want (and helped in the kitchen too, making a mess on the process), for James—it’s like the family that Mary would want, he’ll carry her wish and fulfilled it with you. Just with you.

~~~~~

Still as dense and oblivious as ever, Leo could even see that James is literally FLIRTING with you with simple yet romantic gestures; flowers, opening the door for you, tying your shoe laces for you, carrying the heavy stuff for you.

But he convinced himself to just wait yet; days, weeks and even a month has passed, flowers bouquet of your favorite type of flowers is almost overflowing to your kitchen, vases and even in your bedroom. He is stressing badly, and yet—he’s babysitting the kids while you were out, Leo’s reading a kids book and the three kids were playing dolls and houses and tea parties.

Leo stared at him, eyes squinting as the boy tilts his head to his side, “ywour in love wit mwommy, aren’t wu?” he asked, asking the question with obvious answer, yet it seems like that Veronica is as nosy as ever and heard it, “I’M TELLING MWOMMY!” she yelled with the most mischievous grin he’d never ever seen to someone.

“shh!” James return her playfulness and picked her up to his arms as James got to his feet, “you’re not telling, mommy aren’t you?” he asked, pinching her nose, making Veronica giggle and pinch him back, “mhmm!” she thinks, pointing her index to her chin and quickly shakes her head, “no!” she said, “but, pay fwirst.” She added with a grin, making the pay me gesture again.

He sets her down, rolling his eyes as he took his wallet out and takes out a dollar, “is this enough?” he asked, giving Veronica the dollar—she grins and nodded, shrieking with excitement, “now, you’ll keep your lips sealed right?”

She nodded and off to play with Kenan and Junior again, as he watches the three kids from the distance, Leo patted your clasp hands and got under and give him a hug, “ywou don’t have to wowwy,” he assured, “I know mwommy likes you too, she pwobably just feels a wiwwle gwuilty about something.” He added, the boys eyes bore into his. Guilty about what?

Guilty for stealing him from Mary if you did.

But Mary’s gone, yet it feels wrong if you answered his silent confession, doesn’t it?

James breath hitches and nodded, knowing what it is—he planned to have an indoor movie date for today, he called the kids and share his plan with them being his wingman’s, they help him with decorating and scattering few petal flowers to the floor and Leo puts the big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table (Veronica took a few and Junior took two snacks along with the popcorn.)

He's making it more obvious, no more low-key hints and just full on saying that he likes you with the petals and romantic shits he could ever think off, the kids then called their uncle to take them away for tonight (James will probably pay for Veronica’s efforts other than just a single dollar).

A few minutes later and the kids were with their uncle, bidding farewell, Leo and Veronica eyed him with a proud glint in their eyes saying ‘good luck’ and that he’ll need it.

“ywous gives us baby?” asked Kenan before being pulled away and his mouth covered by his sister, the question echoes through his head and turned crimson from the thought. A baby is too soon, don’t it? He waits anxiously since the living room literally screams his obvious feelings towards you.

Tapping his feet, holding the bouquet in one hand. Focusing on his breathing as he dims the light, making it more intimate and more obvious since he knew you’re literally avoiding the hints or oblivious about it, and it’s starting to piss him off a little.

He didn’t check the time and it feels like almost twenty-four hours had passed when he could finally hear your keys rattle and the knob turning. He got to his feet and open the door before you, looking down at your purse as you were surprised that James opens the door so suddenly, you smiled and show him the plastic bag you’re carrying, “I bought some fried shrimp to eat for dinner.” You beam.

Noticing that inside was dim, “is the kids already asleep?” you asked, not knowing that their uncle took them out for a while to give James some alone time with you, he needed more time.

“oh yeah, put them to sleep.” He lied, stuttering as he finally opens the door wide enough for you to enter, “is this for me again?” you asked as he handed you a big bouquet of red roses, “uhm…” James took your hand and guided you to sit on the living room couch, “wanna watch a movie?” he asked, taking the remote to his hand and trying to find something that you would love.

Letting out a sigh while you inhale the scent of the roses, you knew where this was going and yet, you’ve always been afraid to answer his silent hints of confession—he is trying hard and you should give him an A for his effort, but in the back of your mind… It just feels so, so wrong.

“James, I know where this is going…” you murmur, placing your hand on top of his, giving him that same longing look that he shows you (he didn’t knew he was so obvious about his expression and couldn’t control it when it’s his feelings), you sight, taking his right hand on two of your hands—giving him warmth since his hands were so cold from his nervousness.

James’ looks over to you, opening his mouth and closing it till he finds the right words to respond, “y-you do?” he stutter, you nod in response and bring his knuckles to your lips, “yeah, but I can’t… it’s just… wrong, you know?” your brows frowned as you utter out, “what do you mean?” asked James, setting down the TV remote.

“is this about Mary?” he asked, cutting you off first before you could answer, you nod faintly as you feel bad about it, he shakes his head and scoots closer to you, “hey, it’s all right. I get it, it feels wrong for you but…” his lips thin, his hand reach out and grabs your chin to look at him, “this.. this is what Mary would want, to move on and continue living my life, to live for myself.”

Silence sets in as you couldn’t find the right words to answer him, “just…” he sighs, hands slowly wrapping around your waist and his forehead resting on top of yours, “give me a chance… please…” he whispers, his tone sincere and loving. Making you melt once you gaze into his green eyes that’s been longing to you, he wished to touch you and have you even be part of your family.

He'll beg and plead for you…

Just, give him a chance.

Please…

The tension was heavy, you let go of the breath you didn’t knew you’re holding back—he’s caging you in his arms while sitting in silence, it feels so wrong to have fallen for a man like him. Yeah, you really did fell for him. Hard.

It’s as if he’s weighting you down to your couch, his right hand around your waist while the other support the two of you sitting up, not wanting to fall and lie down completely. But that didn’t matter did it? Just in a flash, you couldn’t tell who leaned in and finally got each others lips.

Your lips was softer than he thought, his left hand quickly cup your cheek and pull you close—your lips parted as he finds his tongue devouring your lips and mouth, his hands roaming around your curves and thighs, pushing you down completely on to the couch as he’ll lose his mind completely if you keep groaning, letting out soft moans against his lips.

His hands going down to your rear and squeeze your ass, making you shudder and yelp from surprise while his lips were kissing your neck—he pulls back and looks down at you, messy yet beautiful. God, you’re going to be a death of him as he snaps from his thoughts, “sorry, I..” he swallows, “I got carried away I…”

“James.”

“yeah?”

“it’s okay.” You smiled, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him to a fierce kiss, he groans and support the back of your head with his hand while his other roams around your thigh—pulling it close to his hip. He pulls his lips away and inhale your scent, spoiling kisses to your jaw and neck as he nibbled against your flesh.

“Let’s take this to bed.” You just knew that this man will give his all to please you in bed, and that thought made you clench your legs.

He carried you to bed, gently lying you down to your back as he handles everything, taking your hand to his as he slowly kissed each one of your fingertips—muttering how much he waited for this, how you captured his heart and like an arrow shot right through his chest. How beautiful and messy you’d be when he finds his way to your heart… and to your core.

“James…” you moaned softly, he hushes you while slowly kissing his way down from your chest and to your abdomen as he slowly strips your bottom clothes away. Pants and panties, gone. He lifts your legs up to his shoulder as he strips you from your shirt and cardigan.

He chuckles and buried his face to the crook of your neck, “look at you, so pretty f’me..” he mumbled, his fingers circling around you inner thigh; slowly making his thumb to your slit, drawing circles gently to your aching numb, making you twitch and mewl, “J-James..” he loves how his name fell from your lips, drawing pressure from your numb as he lowers himself and faces your wetness.

You could feel your heart pounding but it races more when he blew air over to your core and quickly laps on your pussy without a warning, making you shriek and tense up, hips jerking as you mewl almost loudly, “a-at least w-warn me next t.. time!” your thighs squeezes his face as you felt a vibration while he apologize, “sorry.” Then chuckling, licking your slit hard, his thumb drawing circle again on your sensitive numb.

Your muscle began to tighten up as you could feel your growing release, yet he pulled away to strip himself off of his clothes—jacket then shirt, his belt and unzipping his pants.

He then pulls out a condom from his pants pocket, you squint and asked him in heavy breath, “w-where the fuck did you get that?” he grins and chuckle, “well, I uh… been saving it, just you know… in case something like this happens.” He points down to your naked body, full of sweat and his kisses.

Face turning crimson as you could definitely see that he came prepared.

He pulls down his pangs just eight around his hips, setting his hardness spring free—tearing the condoms packaging and put it on him, you watch him do his job, pulling down the condom to his length and spit on his finger to prepare you.

You hiss as he entered one of his finger, slowly maneuvering hos finger inside you—pressing and stretching you out as you hiss and mewl in response, then putting two fingers in to loosen you more, he wants to shove it inside and fucks you into oblivion but he knew you don’t deserve that, you deserve a slow and careful sex—showing his love for you and make you feel good, not pain.

“I think that should be good.” He mutter to himself, tasting his fingers knowing that you came, he grins and leans down towards you—spoiling kisses to your cheeks and neck, “take a deep breath for me, baby…” he lines himself between your thighs, slowly pushing the tip of his length to your core, stretching you real good.

“J-James!” you mewl out, letting out a sharp moan as he pushes himself deeper till he bottoms himself out. He groans and muffle himself to your neck, letting you adjust and tighten around him, “fuck baby, fuck..” he hisses, wanting to move but he’s waiting for your signal, waiting if it’s okay for him to finally move.

It took a while for you to adjust to him and tap on his broad back, “you can move..” you moan against his ear, he groans in respond as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in—ravaging you deep and slow, taking his own sweet time; hearing you moan his name right beside his ear, your tone pitchy and high, pleading and calling out to him.

What once was slow started to move with desperation and urgency, his thrust became more pressing—he mutter praises right beside your ear while you were already screaming and moaning out loud, “that’s it, baby. Scream it all out…” he mutter, his fingers dig to your hips—pressing you down as he almost pulled out all the way till he slammed it all inside again, making you shriek and tear up.

He hugs you, kissing your shoulders as you desperately clung to him, his hips snapping harshly at your core—the condom feels too tight and yet he wouldn’t remove it, and if it breaks… It breaks, doesn’t matter—he’ll take good care of you, treat you like a queen and do all the chores if he accidentally rip and shoots his load in.

“James!” you whine, a tight coil feeling on your stomach as you have your eyes close, your walls tighten as you scar his back with your nails, he snaps and gives you a few harsh thrust before exploding his load and you get to feel your own peak, and good news. The condom didn’t break.

He grinds his hips, still spilling his load—letting out a small whimper from your lips as he does so, he collapse on top of you while he held you by the waist. He pulls out and skillfully tied the condom and shoots it to the trash bin, “you all right?” he asked, seeing that he tired you out.

He sighs, cupping your cheek and brushing a tear off from the corner of your eye, “did I…” he stops as you shake your head, “n-no… it’s okay…” you assured, nuzzling close to him. Your tired tear shed eyes bore into him, giving him a kiss to his eyelid as you lovingly confessed.

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you so, so much.”

He smiles, covering the two of your bodies under the sheet—holding you close and tight as if afraid to lose you, “I won’t be going anywhere,” you assured him, kissing his forehead goodnight. He tired you out and sex makes it easy for you to close your eyes and fall asleep.

Watching you sleep so vulnerable beside him, he snuggles (trying to be the little spoon), as he buried his face to your neck and let out a sigh, “I love you too.” He murmur, a tear fell from the corner of his eye as he finally let his consciousness fade into a deep slumber.

Maybe it was all thanks to her, he gets to have another chance and another love.

Ones once lost and finds acceptance, yet not only did one found acceptance, he also found a home and love.

Lost… Acceptance… And he found love again.

#james sunderland x reader #james sunderland #James Sunderland smut #James Sunderland x reader smut #slow burn #silent hill #silent hill 2 #James Sunderland imagine

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ssahotchnerr · 10 months ago

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thinking about celebrating jacks bday with aaron🥺

like maybe it’s just a chill year and you guys just go out for dinner and do cake later in the day

or bday party with all his friends and it’s star wars themed

awww yes 🥹 tw food, the haley part makes me want to sob btw

jack's birthday happens to fall on a weekday, so he has school, both you and aaron have work.

so when you wake him up!!! hehe you shower him with sooo much love and make sure his morning is off to the bestest start. both you and aaron tease him a bit too 🤭 - asking why and how is he growing up so fast and to please stop so he can be your little jack forever (and jack pinky promises he always will be 😭😭😭)

instead of the usual oatmeal or cereal for breakfast, aaron got jack's favorite doughnuts 🥹 and hehe you even put a birthday candle on one so you can sing happy birthday to him before he's off to school. and if there's time, jack gets to open one present to tie him over for the day 🥰

you also pack jack's lunch with some fun surprises too <33 maybe instead of a sandwich, he gets a lunchable which is a somewhat rare occurrence and he is THRILLED to find it at lunchtime. also!! you baked brownies for jack's class so they can all celebrate him, but you put an extra brownie in his lunch to spoil him just a lil more

and after school <333 you lounge around with jack until aaron gets home 🥹 since it was his birthday, he has a no homework pass from his teacher 🫶🏻 so you hear all about his fun day, watch his favorite movie, play with the gift he got that morning (legos), and hehe jack is sooooo impatient for aaron to get home to begin all the birthday festivities; he just keeps asking you "whennn is dad gonna get home🥺"

and when he (finally) does 🥰🥰🥰 jack opens the rest of his presents, the three of you go to his favorite restaurant (or order it to go to enjoy in the comfort of home, whatever jack's feeling), and finish the day off with birthday cake of course <333 and if jessica is available!!! she joins as well 🫶🏻

and 🥺 at bedtime, the three of you snuggle up closely in jack's bed, and aaron get's jack's 'haley candle' for him to talk to her - this is a must on his birthday. jack tells her about his day, his favorite things he's done the past year, and anything he wants to do the next 🥺 (and while jack doesn't express any sadness per se - he's just talking to haley so easily and naturally - you peek over at aaron and see him very quickly swipe away a tear☹️☹️☹️☹️ you stretch your arm out behind jack to give aaron's shoulder a comforting squeeze 🥺) (wait i wanna write a blurb about this) once the candle is extinguished, jack get's his goodnight forehead kisses, and both you and aaron tell him how much you love him, and how much he is loved, and wish him happy birthday just one more time 🥹

and over the weekend!!! jack's two birthday parties 🥳 one with all his friends, at some bounce-house place or something of the sorts. (pls aaron just in complete dad mode😭 wearing a tshirt and dad jeans, standing there with arms crossed 🤨 as he supervises the kids and assists you as needed <3333) AND one with the bau family of course 🥰🥰🥰

#let's talk aaron <333333 #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds drabble

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sweetteainthesummerx · 8 months ago

Text

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (11)

In which the Europe trip starts

series masterlist

Note: this is kind of a filler chapter, but I'll keep updating! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know. Enjoy :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: ready for the next two weeks :)

dior.n.goodjohn replied

GONNA MISS U AND U BETTER COME BACK W A MAN

aubreyyang

gonna pretend I only heard the first part ILL MY U TOO

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang looking for a London boy

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

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taylorswift love

-- aubreyyang OH MOTHER

alexandrasaintmleux hâte pour l'europe avec ma belle 💞

-- aubreyyang YAY je peux pas attendre!!

user1 damn she getting brave

user2 someone tell her ollie is from essex

charlesleclerc did u just steal my girlfriend

-- aubreyyang I got tired of third wheeling

olliebearman posted on their story

caption: in London today 🇬🇧

landonorris replied to your story

U ARE NOT SLICK

olliebearman

alexandrasaintmleux posted on their story

alexandrasaintmleux with my boyfriend, his son and my girlfriend

tagged: olliebearman, aubreyyang, charlesleclerc

aubreyyang replied to your story

WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME

alexandrasaintmleux

pls just kiss the tension is wild

Sighing, Aubrey slipped her phone back into her pocket. Alex and Charles meant well, but…Ollie meant too much to her to ever risk ruining their friendship. When he crashed, she remembered halting the scene they were blocking because of the sheer amount of notifications she was getting. Her phone dropped out of her hand when she read the first headline, one of the assistants catching it and placing it back into her shaky grip. She felt tears welling up at the photo of the mutilated car. Finally, when he picked up, the relief had hit her like a tsunami. She was afraid of what this sweet boy could make her feel.

“I’ve got it.” Ollie came up behind her in the aisle, chest pressed up against her back, long arms looping around to hoist her (very heavy) luggage easily into the over head storage.

The last time they'd seen each other in person was the club in London. Even then, when they'd only known each other for a little bit, he had given her a hug, guided her where to go, held her drink for her...

And she realized that he was such a touchy feely person and she loved it.

She flashed him a grateful smile in thanks, and tucked herself into the window seat. She watched as he put his much smaller luggage up and helped the elderly woman behind him too.

As she watched him, she realized something. Obviously, he was tall. His mom, Terri, as the older woman insisted Aubrey call her, had shown her some photos of his teenage years, lanky and stretched, with big hands and feet like a huge puppy. But he was one of the tallest on the grid now, the growth spurts of youth still seemingly present. But she hadn’t noticed how broad he’d gotten. Sure, he’d been toned when they met, and she’d been very taken by his arms, but his shoulders looked so wide in his blue sweatshirt and his neck so thick. His chest was maybe four of her hands outstretched. She wanted to check. For science, of course.

He sidled back to her, long legs stretching put and bumping hers.

“Excited?” He grinned, and she had to smile herself.

“It’s a two hour flight, Bearman.”

“Yeah, so we have lots of time. What’s your favourite colour?”

“What?” She laughed, a little shocked.

“No, I’m serious.” He poked her arm, “We hardly talk about this stuff. I want to know you better.”

“Red. I think I really like red.”

charles_leclerc posted

charles_leclerc bread. beer. bon.

liked by charl_locklerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and 990,226 others

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charl_locklerc yo who took that photo of him and Alex

aubreyyang never eating a pretzel again

-- charles_leclerc this is why you pace yourself

-- aubreyyang you would know

-- user1 THE SHADE BAJAJA

-- user2 CONFIRMED SHES WITH THEM IN GERMANU HIEFJIEK

olliebearman don't tell them about the beer

--bearheartxx WHAEJOT HES WITH THEM TOO HIM AND AUBREY HAVE TO BE DATING RIGHT RIGHT

aubreyyang posted to their story

caption: pretty view 🏞️

olliebearman replied to your story

pretty girl more like

aubreyyang

I had a very handsome photographer

dallas_liu replied to your story

BRING ME BACK BREAD PLS

olliebearman posted on their story

caption: actually pretty wild

f1wagsupdate posted

clip one: a video taken from afar on a grainy iPhone camera, four figures walking out of a club in Berlin, Germany. It zooms in, and we see that it is two renowned Ferrari drivers, Leclerc and Bearman. Walking between them with linked arms are Saint Mleux and Yang.

f1wagsupdate during the f1 summer break, Ferrari drivers Leclerc and Bearman are seen with girlfriend and potential girlfriend partying in Germany.

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aseaofyoongi · 2 years ago

Text

behind pixels 1 | jjk

jjk x reader (f)

genre: sex worker au (jk)

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: with rising stress, being caught touching yourself and no satisfaction for your own imagination you decide to take your friends advice of using a certain little app for assistance.

warnings: not another college smut au . . you guessed it lol; foul language; sensual/dirty talk; masturbation; computer sex; strangers to sex worker jk helping you out for the night lol (pls stay safe of the world wide web yall); mentions of sexual intercourse - but ofc there is none; cum eating. . she licks her fingers after.. yeah; open ending and no preparation for a pt. 2 so dont hate me.

next part: behins pixels the sequel

word count: 3,3 thousand words

posted: april 8th, 2023

BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

Is this your first time

here?

Sorta.

You can’t sorta be

here for the first time.

It's a yes or no question.

I thought this site was

no questions asked. No

strings attached?

You against conversation

or something? Desperate

to get right to it?

Not desperate. . but that is

what we’re here for.

Right bunny boy?

Right.

There was a second of silence in between messages. For a brief moment you interpreted his quietness as a goodbye but he was still online. . Perhaps, he thought you to be too straightforward and that turned him off entirely and he moved on to the next user.

Still, there was a faint hope within you that he would reply so you sat in the dead stillness of your room, lights turned off to avoid recognition, door locked with only your undergarments to hug your body.

Typically, this wouldn’t be the event to make-up your Friday night however stressed induced days. . and the simple fact that you were in a torment of arousal twenty-four seven with no further satisfaction stemming from the guidance your imagination had on your fingers.

BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

You sat up on the bed in anticipation of his reply even though you'd never admit it to the stranger on the other side of the screen. He was about to help you get off, so you were definitely at the gates of desperation. It trickled all throughout your body as if a rain cloud sat right above you drenching you in its honeyed ardor.

Your skin turned to goosebumps as the chat bubble continued appearing and disappearing again and again.

Fine. But at least

tell me how you

found me.

I wasn’t specifically

searching for you.

Then who?

Anyone really.

Ouch. You know

I actually felt a bit

special for a second.

You still should. You’re

description helped me

choose you.

Be honest, was it

the tattoos?

If I say maybe would

you be mad at me?

Not at all.

Then, yes.

Plus your description

says you have long hair.

Who was the

runner-up?

Someone named Tae. But

I remembered a friend

visits him often.

So you found out

about us through

a friend?

Yes.

We can do either a

video call or messages.

Which do you prefer?

Video call.

If you’re up for it.

I’m OK with it

as long as you are.

I’ll call you in 5.

I’ll be here.

The rippling anticipation waved through you like electric currents rumbling your entire being right off its course. Though, BunnyBoy98 was a complete stranger you were minutes away from stripping yourself of every bit of shame and vulnerability right before him.

You couldn’t believe you actually went through with it.

And it all began about a week prior. When your friend had walked in on you in a . . less than ideal situation. You succumbed to the pleasure of your favorite toy, legs stretched wide and completely bare on your bottom half. Overcome in the feeling as you maintain focus on chasing your own orgasm. You remember hearing the hinges on the door creak but you weren’t expecting anyone so you remained painting a fervor image behind your eyelids. Envisioning slender fingers being pumped in and out of you repeatedly.

There were beads of sweat strolling down your body as you were in position; about to be catapulted into outer space. The atmosphere you set for yourself was serene and the only sounds that could be heard were your occasional whimpers and the music that played softly in the background. Everything drove you closer and closer to where you wanted to be.

Where you needed to be.

You were so close then a gasp inundated the air around you. A gasp that most certainly did not come from you.

“What the fuck?” You shot your eyes open and quickly saw your friend buried into a corner near the door. She faced the wall but you could only imagine the revolted look on her face, “can you lock the door next time?”

“Oh my,” you quickly pulled the covers over your sweaty body, “can you knock next time?”

“I did knock,” she yelled back, “but you were a little busy.”

“So you just barge in?”

“I thought you might have been dead in the toilet or something,” she shrugged and turned back around to find you sprawled in your bed, “oh, you’re done?”

“What do you think?”

“I mean don’t stop on my account. We all do it,” she sat across from your bed and began spinning around on your computer chair, “I personally like to meet Tae when I’m in the mood but you know this all works too.”

“Who’s Tae?” you questioned sitting up in the bed; wrapping your bed sheets around your figure tightly.

“He’s from this app where guys kinda help girls get off,” she said it so casually you almost didn’t fully decipher the words escaping her lips.

“There’s an app for that?”

“It’s the twenty-first century there’s literally an app for everything.”

You cleared your throat, “is it safe?”

“Are you interested?” she waggled her brows.

“No,” you scoffed, “did you need something?”

“I can’t come over just to spend time?” she shook her head, “I should’ve let you finish. Maybe you would have been in a better mood.”

“Fuck you,” you giggled.

“At least use this next time,” your phone dinged after she quickly sent you a text, “let me know how it goes.”

Her exit was barely audible. You were too preoccupied studying the link she sent for the app called ‘Eargasm An App for Women in Need.’

BunnyBoy98 is typing…..

I’m ready.

Can I call you?

Yeah.

You can call.

The ringtone echoing amongst your walls was taunting, and your nerves nearly fooled you into letting it ring. And while it took a lot of physical and mental strength to actually pick your hand up and move it towards the mouse pad you were finally able to press the green button lighting up your screen.

BunnyBoy98 sat up against a wall; glowing under blue LED lights. His black hair was long as detailed in his description and it sat right above his shoulders. Though it was hard to tell under the stark ambiance his eyes mimicked the tint of chocolate and his piercing stare was aimed at you on the other side of the screen. . Well, it was actually aimed at your dark screen. Though, it was selfish of you, as you hid cowardly behind your turned off camera you wished he would remove the black mask hiding the bottom half of his face.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you murmured, perhaps a bit scared that someone might hear this interaction play out although no one would. You made sure your door was locked this time and you didn’t even have a roommate. “Should I continue calling you BunnyBoy or is there something else you prefer to be called?”

“You can call me JK,” his voice was sultry, soothing, grave. Somehow a mixture of all three in one; it vibrated in your inner ear like some sort of an invasively soft tune, one you know you’d be replaying many times after tonight.

“Sorry about the dark screen,” you attempted to swallow down any ounce of nervousness, “I guess you can say I’m a bit nervous.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” his reassurance quickly eased your frazzled nerves, “though I’ll admit you did sound a bit more assertive over messages.”

“I tend to come off over-confident through texts,” you snickered, “it’s a natural flaw.”

“Confidence is sexy so I would say it’s a blessing.”

The word sexy sounded so enticing coming from his lips even as they were hidden behind that damned black cloth. You roamed through countless fantasies of the man sitting right before you, about the way he possibly looked without being covered; how his touch might feel on your scorching skin and the tone of his whispers closer in the proximity of your ear.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he voice was playful, but it was so hard to read his expression behind his covered face, “have you begun having fun without me?”

“No,” you mumbled, “I haven’t.”

“Good,” he said, “why don’t you tell me what you like.”

“Like during. .” you drifted off.

He nodded, tucking his hair behind his ear, “What else are we here for darling?”

“Yes. Of course,” you huffed, slapping your palm on your forehead undoubtedly astounded by your own stupidity, “Uh, I like. .” You gave it some thought but kept rounding the same corners leading to you cluelessness, “I’m not sure I know what I like.”

“Forgive me for being blunt but have you touched yourself recently?”

“That’s the exact reason why I ended up here.”

“You’re addicted to masturbating?” He whispered as if he was keeping some big secret.

“No!” you answered back quickly, “Not at all. I’ve just been a bit stressed lately and well. . something else happened.”

“What happened?”

“My friend kinda walked in on me,” you whispered.

“It happens to the best of us sadly,” he chuckled, a sound so beautiful and gentle it matched the soft tune of songbirds in the morning, “how about you begin by telling me about the last time you were aroused. Just walk me through whatever got you in the mood that day.”

You closed your eyes leaning your head against the headboard. Your thoughts traveled back to a couple of days prior when your body sunk into the mattress under the hex of your fingertips. You were stripped down bare but you recalled the way every inch of your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“I had just gotten home after my classes,” a small white lie was the price to pay to save any once of dignity you had left in the eyes of the stranger before you — in reality, that very day and every other day you’d found yourself under the amorous touches of your sinful fantasies whenever you saw him, the boy employed at the campus student center.

You didn’t know his name and in reality he only lived in your mind in small flashes. The first polaroid was composed of his cheeky smile framed by indents of his round cheeks. While other snap shots focused on the way he always wore in a half up half down style or a bun; others were centered around the numerous tattoos inked into his right arm, especially the snake sitting right above his wrist and the patchwork tattoos on the dorsal side of his hand.

“Were you thinking about someone?”

“Yes.”

“What were they doing?”

There was a rush of heat traveling through you as you recalled the way you dreamt up his touch against your body, the way his fingers left behind trails of goosebumps on your skin.

“First he began touching me softly,” It was like your body was on auto drive and before you knew it you set the laptop beside you on the bed and began getting comfortable on the bed.

“Was he touching you anywhere specific?”

You hummed in response, “he drew all kinds of figures into my inner thigh, kept inching closer and closer and then he would pull away abruptly.”

“Did you enjoy him pulling away?”

“Yes, it made me want it more.”

“Ok, I’m gonna ask you to do a couple of things. If you don’t want to do something just tell me. I’m here for your pleasure.”

You nodded, then realized he couldn’t see you, “Yea, that’s fine.”

A strain of the jitters ate away at your nerves and you weren’t sure if you’d ever come down from that rollercoaster of anxiety. You were sitting at the peak in a single-person cart waiting to be plummeted down the valley of the tracks leading you to the finale; the culmination of an enticing ride.

“Are you naked?”

“Somewhat.”

“Take it all off.”

Even in the stillness of darkness removing your bra and panties made you feel entirely vulnerable. You were technically alone but JK was right there just a couple of pixels away.

“Close your eyes, doll. I want you to begin touching yourself just wherever it feels good,” he instructed and you weren’t sure if it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could’ve sworn his voice became more bass, “start high and slowly make your way down to your breasts. When you’re there let me know.”

His words were tainted with sin meanwhile he still sat back nonchalantly. You'd imagined he was satisfied in the way your soft whimpers overtook the air as you began pinching your perked nipples but you couldn’t tell for sure not while he still wore his mask.

“I’m assuming you’ve made it.” he chuckled.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“You’re not very good at following instructions. Are you, doll?” he rolled up the sleeves of his crewneck, finally exposing the infamous tattoos he detailed in his description. They were like pieces of artwork adorning his entire arm, not a single spot was left visible—and as much as you tried to get a better look at them for some reason you found it impossible to focus on just one.

“Sorry,” you muttered once again, “I was caught up in the moment I guess.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he offered, “but I need you to be vocal since I can’t exactly see you.”

“I’ll be more vocal. I promise,” you said, still toying with your nipples in between your fingers, “right now my hands are still at my tits.”

“Are you bored of that yet, doll?” the onset of his tumultuous utter; it was thunderous, like music for the soul, “you wanna aim lower?”

“Yes.”

“With the tips of your fingers I want you to move down your cleavage,” he said, “and stop right at your pelvis.”

Quickly, it felt like the evening had rushed by and the sun had been relocated right beside your bed. Though you complied with his command any form of coherent words became jammed in your throat incapable of rolling off your tongue.

The way your fingers slid past your folds earned a string of whimpers from your lips earning a satisfied titter from JK on the other side of the screen.

“Nice and slow, doll,” JK said, “be gentle but I want you to apply a bit of pressure every time your fingers meet your clit.”

JK’s voice was no longer muffled from the laptop’s static microphone. Instead in this version of your altered reality he was laying right beside you on your bed, and his fingers substituted yours against your cunt. His touch contained something yours simply did not possess, composed of a sort of spell that left you babbling moans. And as his fingers traced whichever incoherence they wanted into your clit you felt closer to your pinnacle.

“Fuck,” he stuttered, “I love the way you say my name.”

The bubbling daringness dazed with pleasure drove you to chant his name over and over in between your pants and obscenities. “You have no idea the things I would do for you to fuck me right now,” It was your best attempt at trying to break past his professional shell — His head fell back against the wall as his adam’s apple bobbed up and up, his eyes were shut tightly and his hands fidgeted with something off frame.

“You have no idea how much I’d love to fuck you but this is a contactless doll,” his breathing became uneven, “I’m afraid we could never meet. You could never know who I am and I could never know who you are.”

“N-never say never,” the contract enforced by the site was clear and simple, both parties must grant their consent to the meeting online without disclosing their identities. For safety measures you understood the implications of the rules applied but what of it when you genuinely just wanted to meet the dulcet stranger and ride along him for the wildest time of your life.

“Just focus on the feeling,” his voice was rugged; raspy as a result of the groans he sang into the air, “Focus on that shiver taking your back hostage and that very knot tightening in your core. I want you to only let your thoughts be consumed by that very feeling.”

You sat up using your elbow for support, still thriving to maintain the mental image of having JK near in curated colors. Again, you were in the presence of the man dipping the mattress beside you as he laid down with eyes to scorching their umber tone surrounding you in warmth.

“Now, finger yourself.”

The squelching sound of your finger pushing past your entrance had JK sitting up straight like he was intrigued by your facile compliance but you thought it was obvious that by now there was very little you wouldn’t do as long as it came from him.

“I wish I could see you doll,” he confessed, “I bet you look heavenly with your fingers inside of you.”

“C-contactless r-remember,” The motion living up to your satisfaction was hastened —you became divulged in the feeling of your walls on your fingers. You felt soft, warm, tight. All of the sensations combined to create a feeling so addicting your fingers developed a mind of their own as you drove themselves in and out of you with ease.

“Right. .”

“Fuck, this f-feels,” you swallowed to ease the desert developing in the back of your throat, “it feels s-so fucking good.”

“If I were there,” he mumbled, barely audible but your ears still perked up at the lulls of his voice, “First, I would serenade every inch of your skin. Your body would be the portrait I’d paint with my lips.”

“Mhm. .”

“I would cherish your body so well. Eat you out until your legs shake and fuck you until you’re a candid mess.”

“O-oh, fuck! JK don’t stop.”

“I would fuck you so well, doll.”

“I-I’m so close,” your arm became numbed yet, you kept fucking yourself with your fingers still succumbing to the fantasy of having JK in replacement of your own hand.

The temperature in your room draws beads of sweat on your body and the more you strive to reach your high the more scorching the temperature becomes. The creaking of your bed accentuated the speed of your movements, it was like a song featuring your constant moans.

“Until you’re babbling nonsense, and your headboard is marking up the wall and the neighbors finally know my name.”

JK’s words were laced with a delectable nectar, so sweet, a once off taste wasn’t enough and as you pleaded for more and he complied, continuing to fill your ears with sinful promises you crashed hard. Coming in spurts of white coating your fingers.

“I have a surprise for you,” you panted in between almost every word, “you ready?”

He nodded.

Call it post orgasm tipsiness but after sitting up a bit and adjusting the laptop to leave anything that wasn’t your mouth out of frame you turned on your camera for the very first time that night, pushing your glistening fingers which once invaded your walls past your swollen lips.

His hands rose to his hair and he slithered his fingers through it lightly before gripping his roots into his fists looking a fair amount aroused and frustrated. The tattoos you desperately wanted a peek of were finally on full display. After turning off your camera once again and JK began uttering praises your way, you began scanning the ink on his arm from his forearm up slowly. The artwork adorned his skin beautifully.

As you neared his wrists you noticed a very similar serpentine snake—one who you have stared at too often.

“Typically, things here are a bit different,” you finally registered his voice, “you would turn on your camera and I would provide more detailed assistance but I hope you still had a good time. I did.”

“Yeah,” your mind was in outer space, “I had a really good time.”

“Don’t shy away from visiting me again, OK?”

“Yeah,” you said, “bye, JK.”

Once the camera was off and you shut your laptop tightly, coming to the realization.

JK was him.

The boy, your boy from the student center.

an: i was bored and im so sorry lol

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