#wait i wanted a set of these arranged in some kind of order

[coffee-and-geto]

LET ME WARM YOU UP

summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?

cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).

wc: 721

When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.

Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.

“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”

Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?

Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.

The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.

“Will that be all, young man?”

Satoru nods.

“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”

A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”

Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.

He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.

With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.

“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.

You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.

“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.

“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”

He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.

Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.

Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.

“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.

“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”

“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”

Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.

a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

[violetrainbow412-blog]

No one else [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 6.8k

summary: Bob agrees to join you at a bar with your friends, but a stranger’s gesture unsettles him more than he expected. Later that night, in the quiet of your apartment, he finally lets himself be vulnerable—and loved.

masterlist part 1 (can be read as a standalone, it's only useful if you want some context!)

warnings: explicit sexual content (MDNI), oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, mild jealousy, emotional vulnerability, references to past abuse, trauma triggers, mention of addiction/recovery, aftercare, soft!dom reader (if you squint)

There was no special reason for the invitation. You had turned to Bob on one of those afternoons you spent together.

“Some friends are going to a bar tomorrow. They told me to join them. Do you want to come with me?”

Bob took a couple of seconds to answer. Not because he didn't want to—he was already sure he'd go anywhere if it was with you—but because the question unnerved him a little. With me? he thought. As if that word, said so casually, carried a weight you didn't notice, but he did.

“Sure,” he had said, trying to sound casual too, though slightly excited to be hanging out with you.

It was just a bar. People laughing, glasses in hand, dim lights. But to Bob, it meant more. It meant you weren't hiding him, that it wasn't just a get-together between you two when everything stopped. It was you bringing him into your world, even if it was just for a few hours.

You had agreed to meet the guy there. That night, you arrived a little early, ordered something cold to start the evening, and sat down to wait for him at one of the tables your friends had set aside near the window. There was music playing, but not so loud that you couldn't talk, and the warm light from the hanging lamps gave the whole place a more intimate feel than you expected.

You were checking your phone when you saw him come in.

Bob walked through the door with his hands in his pockets and a slightly uncertain gaze, searching the crowd until his eyes found you. He was wearing a white T-shirt that subtly outlined his shoulders, with an open blue flannel over it. His hair was a little messy, as if he'd hastily arranged it with his fingers.

He approached you slowly, but without hesitation.

“How do I look?” he asked, half-jokingly, as he stopped in front of you.

You stood up from the chair, placing a hand on his chest without thinking twice.

“Stunning”

Bob blinked, surprised by the directness of the response, and lowered his gaze slightly. If he'd been told that a sentence like that would disarm him so much, he wouldn't have believed it.

“You look... wow,” he murmured, not very subtly, as his eyes scanned your loose black blouse and light-colored jeans, which revealed just enough to make him briefly forget you were in public.

You laughed, amused by his reaction.

“Come, I’ll introduce you to them.”

You took his arm, gripping those muscles well hidden in everyday life, and led him toward a group of people. There were eight or nine of them, maybe, men and women. Each of your friends greeted him and said their names. Later, you spoke. You introduced him simply as Bob, without titles, but with a loving smile that was hard to ignore.

“You were right when you said this guy of yours is quite the cutie, huh?” mocked one of your sassy friends.

Bob blushed violently, and when he looked at you, something in your expression told him he'd have to get used to that kind of interaction. He didn't know how much you'd told them about your relationship, so he tried to stay as discreet as possible.

To be honest, all his attention was reserved for you. You looked dazzling, not in an exaggerated way, but like someone who looks beautiful on her own no matter what she wears. When the flow of conversation returned to the table, you leaned toward him to whisper something. He didn't hear you the first time, so you decided to lean in close to his ear.

“If you get bored, just tell me and we’ll go, okay?”

He just nodded, swallowing that tenderness with a lump in his throat. Because he wasn't bored. He was trembling inside, yes, but he wanted to make an effort to make you happy.

You ordered a beer for you and one for him, making sure he was comfortable with it. You knew, very vaguely, about his history with drug abuse, but you didn't know if abstinence included alcohol as well.

He remained attentive to whoever was speaking, and occasionally answered questions someone asked him. His tone was ambiguous, of course, as he tried to keep his powers and the evil entity he harbored within him hidden.

At some point, you slipped your hand under the table and placed it on his thigh. Bob tensed at first, more out of surprise than discomfort, as the contact unsettled him; not because he didn't want it, but because he wasn't used to someone touching him like that. So openly.

While you continued talking with your friends, laughing, passing a napkin, or sipping from your glass, your hand remained there. It moved up, and down, and played with the fabric as if it were an automatic gesture. As if you'd done it a thousand times before.

He wondered if you were pretending not to notice his gaze or if you just thought you wouldn't affect him the way you did. So he forced himself to keep his composure, to laugh when someone said something funny, to pretend his skin didn't burn beneath where you brushed against him.

“Want another beer? It’s on me.”

You leaned slightly in his direction, taking advantage of the fact that the others were distracted by other conversations. The scent of your perfume, combined with that of the beer, permeated his nostrils.

“I still have one”

“But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine for now.”

You nodded, understanding.

"And something to eat? Fries?"

“Whatever you fancy is fine. We can share.”

One thing is certain: Bob, in and of himself, made you want to kiss him. But that night you felt even more attracted, probably because of the atmosphere, the drinks, or simply because he was twice as handsome as usual.

“And what do you think of them so far?”

“Your friends?” he murmured, and you hummed a nod. “They’re nice. Very playful.”

“They are. But you get used to it over time.”

“Are they usually like that with the people you bring?”

“What people?” You pretended not to understand, taking a sip from your glass while making sure to look him in the eye.

“You know… like me”

“You mean mysterious boys who don’t talk much?”

“And you have no idea how social gatherings work,” he snorted, not reproachfully, but with a hint of acid. You squeezed his thigh affectionately.

“You’re the first one I’ve brought, so I wouldn't know.”

“I feel weird,” he suddenly confessed. “I mean, not like it’s a bad thing, but… you know, I want them to like me and stuff.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” you retorted back “You’re quiet, yes, but that’s not a crime. Your style is more like… interesting silences.”

“Interesting silences?”

“Yeah. Like when you're thinking about saying something, but decide not to. It's sexy.”

That curious sound that pleased your ears so much, a laugh that seemed to hurt him escaped from the back of his throat.

“It’s not on purpose”

“That doesn’t make it any less sexy,” you insisted.

A tiny blush spread across the boy's face as his arm slid down your back, wrapping itself around your waist and thus shortening the distance between you.

“Well, if that’s what we’re talking about,” he murmured in a deep voice, almost hoarse from the closeness, “I don’t think I’m the one who should hold that title.”

His eyes scanned your face with a mixture of admiration and barely contained desire, as if he were trying to memorize your features.

“Robert Reynolds,” you raised an eyebrow, half amused and half incredulous, “are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe.” he gave you one of those smiles of his—unusual, soft, a little crooked as if he still didn’t quite know how to do it. “Is it working?”

As he spoke, his fingers traced a slow circle in the fabric of your shirt, right at the base of your back, causing an involuntary shudder.

“Pretty good, I’d say.” You brought a hand to his neck, caressing the warm skin with your knuckles, moving just a little closer. “Now give me a kiss, will you?”

Despite the chuckle he let out at your request, he didn't hesitate for a second to please you. He gave you a short but deep kiss that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

After your intervention, he relaxed considerably. Although you couldn't say he was participating enthusiastically, he at least seemed calmer. At one point, he took your hand, which was on his thigh, perhaps looking for a form of regulation or simply because he wanted to feel closer to you.

The evening continued peacefully. You chatted, laughed, and even they told a few stories that you were sure were meant to embarrass you—in the best possible way—but Bob listened with joy. He couldn't quite interpret the feeling bubbling inside him. It was happiness, yes, but also a strange satisfaction at feeling like he was uncovering a few of the secrets you harbored.

It was amid this harmony, just as the general laughter began to die down, that a waiter walked confidently up to the table. He carried a tray laden with small glasses of clear liquid, they trembling slightly with each movement. His appearance was so sudden that for a second everyone remained silent, confused.

“We didn’t ask for that,” you exclaimed at that moment, stopping him with one hand as you frowned, “Maybe you made a mistake.”

“Someone sent them to you. From the table over there.”

Every head in the group turned in the indicated direction, and then a rather cocky guy winked at you through a half-smile. Your stomach lurched at the gesture, and a disgusted expression quickly appeared.

“I don’t want them”

“That’s not true, leave them here.”

Apparently, your friend's answer carried more credibility, and the waiter simply ignored you. Like birds around crumbs, everyone swarmed to get a shot of vodka. They seemed amused by the situation.

“Seducing strangers again, huh?” someone quipped, raising an eyebrow as they brazenly took one of the shots.

“Again?” Bob hurried, glancing at you with a mixture of surprise and a barely contained expression of annoyance. Although he had intended only for you to hear, his voice came out louder than expected.

“Oh, let me tell you,” another voice chimed in, amused, nudging the blue-eyed man with a knowing elbow. “It’s not the first time someone’s sent her a drink.”

“I’m starting to wonder if that ass of yours is really worth all the madness,” someone else joked, raising their glass before taking a gulp “But hey, if it gets us free stuff, I’m not complaining.”

Most of the group took the matter with amusement, and you simply decided to ignore it. They were right when they said it wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but each time, rather than feeling attracted, you were surprised that there were men dumb enough to spend their money on a stranger and her entire table.

Considering the matter to be stupid, no further discussion was made. By this point, you'd already had enough beers for the edges of the evening to begin to blur, so it was no surprise that when the conversation turned to something more trivial, it seemed irrelevant, almost like a detail not even worth remembering.

You didn't notice the change in Bob right away.

He didn't say anything. He didn't make any obvious gestures. But when you turned to meet his eyes, they weren’t as open as they had been a moment ago. He wasn’t looking away, but he no longer held your stare the way he had before. His hand, once resting confidently on the curve of your waist, was no longer there; he had withdrawn it. Not abruptly, but with a movement as silent as it was meaningful.

You, however, didn’t see it as a bad thing. In fact, you didn’t read into it at all. You simply assumed he was just tired.

You'd been there for a while, your voices mingling, and the warmth of the place was beginning to curl like a thick blanket over your skin. You took another sip, barely savoring it, and then approached him without thinking much. One of your hands slid over his thigh, as you had before; naturally, affectionately. He didn't move away, but his body didn't react the same way.

He was there. But something in him wasn't there.

“Is everything okay?” you whispered softly into her ear.

Bob nodded once, without looking at you, while he hummed his response. That was enough to set off a small alarm in the back of your mind. Not because you feared anything bad, but because you knew that specific type of pause. It was like a way of collecting himself when something touched him too much.

Maybe he felt exposed, you thought. Maybe the meeting was too much, or he was suddenly overwhelmed.

It was easy to forget: he wasn't like your friends. He didn't like being the center of conversation, nor being surrounded by comments he couldn't tell if they were meant to be funny or not. And, as always, his instinct wasn't to complain, but to shut down a little. To retreat inward.

Without forgetting the matter, you rested your forehead on his temple, brushing his skin with your lips.

“Do you want us to go now?”

The question wasn't meant to offer a clear conclusion. Rather, it was a way of holding him back, of offering him a way out before the silence became awkward.

“No, I'm fine,” he murmured.

But he didn't mean it. And you, even if you didn't fully know it, were starting to feel it.

You stroked his leg again, more slowly this time. As if you could reconnect with him with that gesture. As if your body knew it needed him close even when your head still couldn't understand the reason for his distance.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

His face was a little more serious, his jaw clenched like someone holding back. You didn't know yet that it wasn't the meeting, it wasn't the music, your company, or the noise. It was something more invisible to your eyes.

For a while, you sat there, trying to act naturally so he wouldn't feel guilty or uncomfortable. But as soon as you saw an opportunity to escape, you took it.

“Let's go home, okay? My head hurts a bit, and I've already had too much to drink,” you said quietly, as one of your friends began to tell a rather boring story for the third time.

Bob barely looked up from his glass. He didn't object, didn't even ask if you were serious. He just moved as if grateful that you were the one who said it first.

You said goodbye with hugs, some more effusive than others. There were jokes, laughter, someone asking you to invite him back, and another shouting something about taking care of your boyfriend. Bob didn't respond. He merely smiled with his lips closed.

Outside, the air was fresher, and the silence, was like a truce.

You called a taxi as you walked toward the corner. He kept his hands in his pockets, his steps a little slow. He seemed calmer than he had been at the bar, but still withdrawn. You brushed his arm with yours as you walked, and he moved closer, as if by reflex.

“Are you going home, or…?” you asked carefully.

Bob didn't respond right away.

“I think so,” he said, without much conviction.

You looked at him. In profile, his eyes looked sad. You didn't say they were, but there was something there, something that didn't fit with the night or the times he'd kissed you with his heart in his throat.

You moved a little closer, with that kind of affection that doesn't ask permission.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

He turned his face toward you, just a little, and narrowed his eyes as if he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.

“You could stay at my place,” you added, with a calm smile.

Bob swallowed. It wasn't an invitation with ulterior motives. Or maybe it was. But not the kind he usually feared. It was an invitation to breathe in a place where he didn't have to pretend.

“If you’re tired, we can sleep. If not… that’s okay too,” you said, glancing at him. “I just want to enjoy you a little longer. You look so pretty today that I can’t just let you go.”

He smiled. One of those smiles that barely cuts, but is worth twice as much for being so rare.

“Okay,” he accepted, quietly, as if it were a surrender.

And you, silently, intertwined your fingers with his. The taxi arrived shortly after, and when he opened the door to let you in first, your eyes met his, and you knew—without needing words—that he was ready to open up to you.

The ride was more pleasant than you expected. You leaned into him for warmth, and Bob didn't deny you his embrace, where the gentle beating of his heart felt almost like a lullaby.

As you stood at the entrance to your apartment, the jingling of your keys replaced the silence between you. As you entered, the comfort welcomed you, and you felt you could finally breathe more freely.

You asked Bob to go ahead to the bedroom while you quickly went to the bathroom. You wanted to remove your makeup and also brush your teeth to get rid of the taste of alcohol in your throat. You thought about taking a shower, but discarded it because of the thought that Bob might fall asleep before you could talk to him.

When you finally came out, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress. He'd already taken off his shoes, leaving him in only his thick gray socks, and he raised his head slightly when he noticed your presence.

“Okay, honey, what's wrong?”

“What’s up with what?”

“With you,” you whispered.

He looked away as you approached him.

"Nothing”

“Bob,” you insisted, more firmly this time. However, he didn’t seem to want to budge.

The preceding silence made you frown, and you thought it was time to intervene, although now with more determination.

“Bob, what’s going on? You’re acting weird. Did something bother you? Were my friends rude?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “It’s not like that.”

Testing the waters, you closed the distance and settled onto his lap, straddling him. It was a low move, but you knew your lover always became more compliant when your body was that close. His body reacted—of course it did—but his arms stayed limp at his sides. So you reached up, cupping his cheeks, gently guiding his face toward yours to make him look at you.

“So? What is it, huh?” you asked gently. “You can tell me. You know I won’t get mad.”

“It’s not that I think you’ll get angry. It’s just… it feels really dumb to say out loud.”

“Your feelings aren’t dumb, Bob,” you corrected him. A gentle kiss on his lips was enough to make his shoulders relax and his hands finally settled on your thighs. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…” he murmured, his gaze fixed on some indefinite point, “I think I felt bad about… you know, the man thing.”

“What man?” you asked, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. It was a simple gesture, but it puzzled him. He couldn't tell if it was confusion, indifference, or tenderness.

“Who sent the round of shots to our table. The one who was flirting with you.”

You didn't say anything right away, but the way your eyes searched his seemed to say too much: you didn't understand why this affected him so much, or maybe you did, but you wanted him to say it.

“I'm not your boyfriend, I know... but...”

The phrase hung in the air, like a loose thread that threatened to unravel what you had woven that night. You watched him for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, without responding immediately.

“Is that the problem?” you asked softly. “Do you think because you’re not my boyfriend I’ll go with someone else?”

Bob didn't say anything. He opened his mouth, as if about to explain, but then seemed to change his mind. He looked down again, his brow furrowed, as if in pain. Then you lifted his head and plastered on a smile meant to inspire confidence.

“You could have anyone you wanted,” he complained, a mixture of frustration and surrender in his voice “Anyone. Just need to smile at them like that and you’d have them in the palm of your hand.”

At first, you looked puzzled, but after a second, your expression changed. With determined tenderness, you reached up and caressed his cheek.

“And you think I don’t know?” you exclaimed. “But I invited you. Why do you think I did that?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Because I like you, Bob. Very much.”

The words hung suspended for a moment. You didn't need to repeat them; you'd already said it all with that tone, with that body leaning toward his, with that warmth that emanated from the closeness.

You smiled sweetly at him. Then you kissed the tip of his nose, his cheek, the line of his jaw. You hugged him, still feeling him stiff beneath your hands. He didn't reject the gesture, but he didn't fully surrender himself either.

“I’m not usually good at reading signs,” he said hoarsely.

“And what do you think mine says now?”

Bob looked at you for a moment, his pupils dilated by the mixture of emotions, desire, something he could barely name. Then he replied in a low voice:

“For me to stay”

You nodded, barely smiling.

"Exactly"

You kissed him again, this time slower, deeper. A kiss that didn't seek urgency but clarity, as if each caress of your lips could erase the doubts he'd been carrying since the bar.

“I love that you get so nervous when I touch you,” you whispered against his skin. “As if you don’t understand yet that you can have me all the way. Whenever you want, however you want.”

Bob swallowed. His hands moved to your waist, not with impulse, but with an unspoken longing. He hugged you as if he feared that by holding you tight, you'd disappear.

“You know what I like best?” you added, brushing your nose against his. “That you don’t realize what you do to me. But I do. I see it. Every time.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling as if he could finally let something out. And then you kissed him again. Short, soft kisses, repeated over and over again, intended to fill an old emptiness. Kisses that mingled with words, murmurs, and soft laughter.

“I like the way you look at me. I like the way you listen to me. I like that when you're with me, the world falls into place. And I want you to make sure that sticks in your head, got it?”

Bob wrapped his arms around you. His fingers trembled a little, but now they didn't flinch. He didn't seem afraid to touch you anymore.

“You’re so hot, Bob. It’s painful to see how you don’t realize that more than one girl would kill me to kiss you like I’m doing now.”

You leaned gently toward him, until your bodies were chest to chest. With a gentle push of your hips, you made him lie back on the mattress. Bob let himself go, his eyes fixed on you, as if he were suddenly struggling to breathe.

"But I'm the one who does it, aren't I? Lucky me”

You leaned a little further into his chest. Your hair fell to the side, caressing his neck as your lips continued to explore it. Kisses on the corner of his mouth, on his jaw, on his neck. Kisses that didn't ask for permission.

Bob was physically unable to utter a word. He knew that if he opened his mouth it would only be to let out a moan, so he didn't.

Suddenly, your bodies began to seek each other out more intentionally, unhurriedly, but with a growing passion that could no longer be hidden. Desire throbbed beneath your skin, between faint sighs and caresses.

Clothes weren't a barrier, but a gentle reminder of what was still to be discovered. You didn't need to rush. You were already choosing each other. Every touch, every lingering kiss, every shared breath was the clearest proof that you were right where you wanted to be.

The man beneath you exhaled faintly as you rubbed your hips against his crotch, as if you wanted to tease and prepare him at the same time. He felt you smile against his lips.

“Let me take care of you, honey.”

Carefully, almost ceremoniously, you slid your lips down his neck and began trailing wet kisses down his chest. You slipped off the flannel and then the white t-shirt, placing your hands on his forearms, firmly on his biceps.

The first time you saw him naked, you were pleasantly surprised, as you didn't expect to see that gorgeous six-pack hidden under his baggy clothes. They always say the best are the quietest, don't they?

You reverently continued kissing his chest, making sure that each time your lips parted, it was with the grace and delicacy of a butterfly landing on his skin. You licked along his abs, tracing your route to the hem of his jeans, where some prominent veins stood out. The closeness made you salivate.

“May I?” you asked softly, placing your hand on his belt buckle. He only managed a nod from his spot.

It didn't take you long to pull his pants down to his ankles, taking his boxers with them. It was obvious he was beyond hard after all that make-out session you'd had, and all you needed was a fistful of your hand at the base of his shaft to make him twitch.

You began with slow, rhythmic, circular movements up and down his swollen length. With each stroke, his breathing quickened and his cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. From your spot, you could see him biting his lip, definitely trying to mask how hot it was to see you giving him this attention.

You whispered to him that there was no need to be silent, and to motivate him to let himself feel it, you slipped the tip of his member into your mouth. He couldn't resist, and a breathy moan filled the air. Sure, Bob had had this kind of experience before, but this was his first time sober. Without the meth dulling his senses, and with how much he wanted you, you going down on him felt like heaven—better than any high he’d ever chased.

Your lips were warm, and he couldn't tell if it was your saliva or your precum that made your insides so deliciously wet. After a few seconds, he didn't even have the strength to mask his moans, so he just let them out without any shame.

Every now and then, even as you took him all in, you whispered how good he tasted or how much you loved fucking him with your mouth, feeling him down to your throat. More than the movements, your words were what was driving him to the edge.

He wasn't used to receiving that kind of praise during sex. It was something new, yes, but something he could get used to.

Suddenly, the world shrank to the sensation of your tongue sliding over his cock, at first at a cautious pace, then so fast it made his legs tremble. His hands moved on their own to your head, brushing your hair with his fingers until he managed to secure it in a ponytail, which he held with one hand.

The sight of you looking down at him, your eyes watering and your cheeks pressed against his, made him utter a growl of curse.

Then he began to set the pace, guided by that growing urgency burning in his loins, that pre-orgasm desperation that made him tremble inside. He knew you could have made him come easily, effortlessly, but the instant he felt himself approaching the edge, something deeper and more primal took over: he wanted to come inside you.

He wanted to feel your walls squeezing him as he came, how you enveloped him completely. He wanted to kiss you at the same time, devour your moans and mix them with his, as if that moment could fuse them in a more intimate way than any other.

“Wait, wait, baby…”

You stopped, and his member slipped out of your mouth with a soft pop. He felt dizzy from the worried look you gave him, as if you'd done something wrong when, in reality, you were doing everything perfectly.

Before you could ask him anything, he sat up and, with an almost savage rhythm, yanked his pants out of the way. You let out a squeal as his hands—strong and manly—held you by the waist as if you weighed nothing and laid you down on the mattress.

Bob was a meticulous man, in every sense, always behaving prudently to avoid making a mistake. But that night he turned into the messiest lover you could imagine.

The first thing he pushed aside was your black shirt, his movements determined, as if he couldn't wait any longer. He didn't even bother to remove your lace bra; he simply pushed it down enough so he could lean down and nibble at the skin of your tits, hungry for you. At the same time, one of his hands deftly descended to your stomach, searching for the fly of your pants.

His desperation overwhelmed you completely. He was soon making his way through your pants, his hand descending firmly to your crotch, where he cupped your still-covered pussy. Even through your panties, the wetness was unmistakable. He swallowed hard, overcome by the thought that pleasuring him had been able to awaken that desire in you.

He murmured—begged—to be let inside you. His voice was desperate, almost delirious, whispering again and again that he couldn’t wait, that he needed you like he needed air. You responded with the same eagerness, cupping his face and pulling him down into a kiss, exhaling one sentence: that he could do whatever he wanted to you.

You both let out a moan in unison as he positioned himself at your entrance, sliding inside you a moment later. You were consumed by passion, sick with desire for each other, to the point of feeling like you could shatter into a thousand pieces. As if at that moment nothing else existed, and the explosion of that insatiable longing was the only thing left of you in the world.

His thrusts became steady and deep, as if he had to reach the bottom of you to be satisfied. He breathed so erratically against your neck that it only made everything hotter.

His every movement seemed driven by something more than desire: a raw, ancient need, as if your body were the only refuge capable of containing him. There were no thoughts, only the shared urgency, the heated touch of skin against skin, the trembling that grew with each thrust. And amid that intensity, he wasn't just seeking pleasure… he was seeking belonging. Holding onto you as if afraid he'd lose himself if he slowed down, if he stopped feeling you this way.

“Do you think I’d let anyone else fuck me like this?” you whispered, right against his ear. Your velvety voice sent a shiver through him. “Only you can do that, handsome. I’m completely yours. Only yours.”

Your words twisted something deep in his stomach. It caught him off guard, realizing how far you’d gone to offer yourself to him—fully, selflessly, in a way no one else ever had. Bob already knew he was yours, body and soul. But he never expected to hear, from your own lips, that you belonged to him too.

Wanting to motivate him again, you sweetly complimented how well he was doing and confessed how much you wanted him to make you cum.

It got to the point where all there was in the room was a mix of the lewd sounds of your bodies colliding, incomplete sentences, moans, grunts, and the feeling of heat emanating from your naked skin.

He knew he wouldn't last long. And maybe he was a hopeless romantic, but he wanted you to come at the same time, as if that would make the moment more intimate.

His thumb traveled to your clit, pressing hard, rubbing insistently to stimulate you enough for your climax. Your hips responded, moving frantically against him almost instinctively, while your nails dug into his back, clutching at something tangible to endure the ecstasy that was already beginning to course through you from the tips of your toes.

A high-pitched moan escaped your lips without warning, and in that instant, he knew you'd come. The way your body shuddered, clenching tightly around him, was a turn-on impossible to resist. Feeling your orgasm engulf him pushed him over the edge, and then he surrendered without reservation, spilling himself inside you with a deep, broken groan, so intimate and delicious that you wished you could keep it forever, like a precious secret between the two of you.

When Bob collapsed against your chest, rising and falling with a shaky breath, he needed a moment to pull himself together.

The warmth between the sheets was still felt, the echo of sighs and bodies intertwined. His cheek sank between your collarbone and the edge of your neck, breathing slowly, as if he could only just allow his lungs to do their work.

Your fingers moved in slow circles over his back, just above the line where his tense shoulder blades were beginning to relax. The sweat on his skin was already drying, but he didn't pull away. Not yet.

“You okay?” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, but said nothing. It was enough for you to feel him. His weight, his breathing, his meaningful silence. You knew him well enough to know that when he was silent, something was settling inside him.

A few more seconds passed. Then he slid a hand down your side, absentmindedly caressing the curve of your waist, as if he needed to remind himself you were there.

"Thank you"

“Why?” you asked, now stroking his damp hair, ruffling it gently.

“For... this. For you. For not letting go when I shut down like this.”

You didn't say anything right away. You just kissed his forehead, slowly, with a reverent gesture.

“You need more to get rid of me.”

A sigh escaped his chest, sounding almost like a laugh. He sat up slightly, lying on his side so he could see you better, one of his legs crossing yours as if he needed to stay in touch with you.

The dim nightlight partially illuminated his face. His eyes were dark and soft, vulnerable. Your fingers ran down his cheek, then down to his chest, where you could still feel his heartbeat racing calmly.

“Need anything, sweetheart?” you murmured, voice thick with heat. “Water? A tighter grip? Or maybe you just want to hear how fucking gorgeous you look wrecked like that?”

He let out a soft, shaky laugh.

“You know, I didn’t realize how much I liked hearing you talk to me like that… not until now.”

“Talk to you how?”

“Well… you know. All those compliments. The sweet things you say.”

His words stumbled out awkwardly, like he still wasn’t sure how to respond to your praise without putting up his usual defenses.

You smiled.

“Funny how we’re always learning new things about ourselves, huh?”

He looked down, and you took advantage of that second to take his face in your hands.

“I’m just not used to this,” he said, barely whispering.

"To what?"

“That someone loves me so calmly”

Your chest tightened. And you leaned in to hug him, closing your eyes for a moment to contain the emotion that was beginning to rise within you as well.

You stayed with him like that for a long time. Caressing him, whispering small things in his ear: how handsome he looked with his hair messed up, how much you loved the sound of his voice when he moaned, how adorable his blush was, how irresistible he seemed to you even when he was insecure. And Bob took it all with bravery and modesty, trying to convince himself that you were sincere with your words.

“I think we should clean up a bit,” you suddenly mumbled, amused “We’re kind of... sticky.”

Bob, who might have fallen asleep due to the calm, let out a soft laugh, with a slight sigh at the end.

“Probably yes”

“Do you want to take an ice bath to wake us up?”

As soon as the phrase left your lips, you felt a shift. His hands, resting on your waist, froze, and his body tensed as if you'd said something you shouldn't have. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, unfocused, his mind probably traveling somewhere farther away.

“Hey,” you mumbled, frowning slightly “What’s up?”

Bob opened his mouth, but it took him several seconds to form a response. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"It's no big deal"

You already knew that wasn't true, but you insisted immediately. You ran your fingers along his chin, gently guiding him to look at you. You waited. You gave him space.

He swallowed. Then he looked away again. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was low, almost timid.

“It's just... cold water makes me a little tense. It always has. I don't know why... well, I do. I just don't like to say it out loud.”

You remained silent. Present, without pressure.

“When I was a kid,” he began again, more firmly this time, “if I misbehaved or… if my dad thought I had, he’d sometimes make me take a bath with ice-cold water. Not for hygiene or anything. It was a kind of punishment. He’d run it hard, saying I needed to wash it off. Sometimes he’d leave me in there for minutes, which at my age seemed to feel like hours.”

His voice held no anger. It held tiredness. A kind of ancient shame that he no longer knew whether it belonged to him or not.

“Since then… I can't. It's hard for me. Cold water makes me think about it. Even though now I'm the one who turns on the tap.”

A pang of tenderness tightened in your chest. You didn't say anything at first. You just leaned toward him, caressing his cheek with your lips. A kiss. Then another, on his temple, as gentle as you could.

“Thanks for telling me,” you whispered. “I won’t suggest it again, okay?

He nodded slowly.

“But we can still take a bath,” you continued, still hoping. “A warm one. We fill the tub, sit for a while, I put in some bath salts, some candles. It doesn’t have to be for any reason other than to wash off all that’s left behind… the sweat, the residue, the intensity. Just to relax. Together.”

He looked at you. And for the first time in minutes, his expression truly softened. He looked relieved, almost small. He nodded once more, this time with his eyes shining with something hard to describe.

"Sounds good"

“Let me pamper you for a while, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything today.”

You sat up slowly, still holding him, and helped him up with you. The air between you was no longer heavy, but warm. True intimacy, love in its quietest form.

As you walked to the bathroom, Bob felt something inside him click, something that had been awry for a long time. Not because you'd said something miraculous, but because you hadn't judged him when he revealed a piece of information that made him so vulnerable. You looked at him the same way after he told you, as if nothing about him scared you, and you even looked for an alternative to make him feel better.

A while later, when you were already submerged in the water and he could feel your back against his chest, he understood. The feeling was clear and floated peacefully between you; he was loved, there was no doubt about it. Sincerely and deeply.

He was safe.

taglist: @highinhardtown @yesshewrites1 @haydenlizz @tenmaabnesti @qardasngan @serenitybloodmoon @littlemsbumblebee

[powderpinkprincess]

Speeding Ticket [Lando Norris x reader]

description: You get your first speeding ticket.

Lando was sitting at the kitchen table, mindlessly scrolling through social media when he heard the front door open. You finally arrived home. He had been waiting for you to text him back, so he could finally order food for lunch. You didn't see his texts, but he didn't want to call you, knowing you were in an important meeting. Yes, technically he had lunch at home, but that was the healthy stuff his dietitian made him eat, and he didn't feel like forcing down those veggies this today.

You shuffled into the kitchen with an unreadable expression on your face. You pressed your lips together into a thin line as you approached him, nodding stiffly. "Hi."

Lando could immediately tell that something was off. He frowned, setting his phone down on the table and turning to look at you properly. "Hey, everything alright?" he asked, studying your face.

You rummaged through your handbag and took out a white envelope. Then you put it on the table and slid it to him as if you were a part of some underground mafia, trying to arrange a business.

Lando raised an eyebrow at your weirdly ominous gesture, but he took the envelope off the table. "What's this?" he asked, lifting his gaze from the envelope to your face. Why were you acting so strange?

 "I got a speeding ticket," you mumbled sheepishly. "Thought I would tell you before you got the notification."

It was awkward and you felt especially bad because this morning you took his car, not yours. The tires of your car haven't been changed for a while now, and when Lando realized that the previous night, he told you not to drive it until it was done. Therefore, his number plate was shown on the ticket, not yours. Besides, you've never even gotten any kind of a ticket before, and now your first one was while driving your boyfriend's car.

Lando tried to keep a straight face, he really did. He tried to act serious, but the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as he suppressed a cheeky smile. He could've been really annoyed at you for speeding in his McLaren, but he found your grim face much more entertaining than he should have.

 "How fast did you go?" he asked, unable to contain his amused expression.

 "Sixty," you pouted. The speed limit in the urban areas of Monaco was 50 km/h, as it was full of twisty, narrow streets, tunnels, and traffic jams. Funny enough lots of people owned sports cars there, yet they were never allowed to drive fast.

Lando's smirk widened at your answer. "Sixty?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows. "You did 60 in a 50 zone?" He tried to sound serious, but the grin spreading across his face betrayed his failed attempt. "You do know you're not street racing right now, right love?" he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

 "I am a threat to your job, am I not?" you mumbled, crossing your arms. You were secretly a little relieved that he wasn't angry with you, yet you felt bad.

Lando chuckled at your words and leaned back in his chair, his smirk slowly transforming into a playful grin. "Oh yeah, you're a real danger to me," he teased, his tone still light. "I should watch out. You'll be taking my seat in no time."

You watched him in silence for a moment before you sighed, letting his arms fall to your side. "Seriously though, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your car in trouble."

Lando's expression softened as you apologized. His initial amusement was replaced by a hint of genuine concern. He reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle as he gave it a comforting squeeze.

 "It's okay, babe," he said softly, looking up at you. "I'm not mad, I was just teasing you. Besides, it's just a ticket. It's not the end of the world."

 "I got points on my license now," you whispered, your eyes filling with tears.

Lando noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, and his heart immediately sank at the sight. He stood up, stepping around the table to pull you into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he spoke.

 "Hey, it's okay," he attempted to soothe you. "It's not a big deal, really. I'm more surprised these are your first points with the way you drive sometimes."

You let out a sad chuckle and wiped your eyes. "Is this the way you are trying to comfort me?"

Lando grinned, his usual, cheeky personality resurfacing. "It's my special brand of comfort," he teased, before his tone turned serious again. "But honestly, love, it's just points on a license. It'll be okay. We'll pay the fine, and it'll be as if it never happened."

 "Nothing will be ever the same," you whispered dramatically.

Lando snorted at your statement and rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, love, you and your theatrics," he said, his teasing smirk back on his face. "It's a ticket, not a world-ending catastrophe."

 "I didn't even know what to do, it was so awkward," you started explaining the way you got pulled over. "The policeman asked if I drank, and I was so startled that I accidentally said yes."

Lando's eyes widened in a mixture of disbelief and amusement as you described what happened. He couldn't suppress a laugh that escaped his lips. "You what?!" he stifled. "You told a policeman you were drunk?"

"Accidentally! I was trying to seem cooperative and say yes to whatever he wanted," you tried to explain yourself, but that only made Lando cackle louder. “Stop laughing! I thought he was going to take away my license right on the spot.”

Lando studied your face for a moment, trying to assess the emotional damage you suffered. Then he pulled you into a hug again and stroked your back.

 “Do you want to order Chinese? We can buy those stupid fortune cookies you love. Maybe they will tell the future of your license,” he offered, unable to stop himself from teasing. This was just so amusing.

You lightly smacked his chest. “Oh, shush, aren’t you supposed to be eating healthy anyway?”

 “I didn’t break any rules today yet. I must catch up to you,” he retorted.

You couldn’t help but finally smile. “Alright, let’s order then.”

 “How lucky that I don’t have to find out how to sneak cookies into a prison cell,” he added, sending you a quick glance before he picked up his phone from the table.

 “Lando!”

He started laughing again.

[seospicybin]

CAM.

BONUS CHAPTER

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

CAM MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Struggling to make ends meet as an art student, Hyunjin never expected his quiet neighbor to change everything. Rumored to be an adult content creator, you offer him a deal—help you with your content, and you’ll help with his financial troubles. What starts as a simple arrangement soon blurs into something more, pulling Hyunjin into a world he never imagined. (12,6k words)

Author's note: I know some of you expected me to post this so here it is. Hope you enjoy it ♡

For the past month, it’s been like this.

Quiet mornings that start with sleepy greetings through the thin walls of your neighboring apartments. The occasional knock on the door—sometimes it's Hyunjin bringing you takeout because he "accidentally" ordered too much, other times it's you showing up with two mugs of coffee just the way he likes it. His sweaters slowly start showing up in your laundry pile. Your shampoo scent lingers in his bathroom. Neither of you ever talks about it, but you both know—it’s happening. You’ve slipped into this rhythm, this quiet routine that makes it feel like you’re already living together. Like lovers who just happen to have two doors instead of one.

There’s something tender in the way he always walks you to your apartment even if it’s just two steps away, or how he always knock on the door even though he owns the spare keys. You cook together. You nap on his couch. He lets you wear his shirts. You call him without a reason, and he always picks up like he’s been waiting for your voice all day.

And the best part? None of it feels rushed. It’s natural—effortless, even. Like two people who finally found their way to each other and decided to stay.

This morning, the apartment is quiet, the kind of stillness that feels like it’s holding its breath, afraid to disturb the peace. You stand in the doorway, a mug warming your hands, and your eyes fall on the beautiful boy asleep in your bed.

Hyunjin.

His hair is a tousled mess across your pillow, one arm draped lazily over the blanket, his lips parted slightly in sleep. The sheet clings to the dips and curves of his bare back, rising and falling with each steady breath. He looks like something out of a painting—soft edges, warm tones, impossibly beautiful. But you know him deeper than just the way he looks. You know how he always tilts his head when he’s listening closely. How he runs his fingers along his lower lip when he's thinking. How he makes the best fried rice when you’re having a bad day. How he always makes space for you—on his couch, in his schedule, in his world.

You lean your shoulder against the doorframe, smiling quietly to yourself.

This is your favorite version of Hyunjin—unguarded, peaceful, his usual quiet intensity melted into something softer. You don’t just love how beautiful he is. You love how he’s kind without even trying. How he makes you laugh even when you think you can’t. How he always makes sure you feel safe, seen, wanted.

And standing there, watching him sleep, you realize just how happy he makes you—so deeply, so effortlessly. Like loving him has become second nature. You take a slow sip from your mug, eyes still on him, your heart swelling with something quiet but certain.

You pad across the room on quiet feet, setting your mug on the bedside table before gently lifting the blanket and sliding into bed beside him. The mattress dips slightly beneath your weight, and Hyunjin stirs as you carefully lay yourself on top of him, your chest pressed to his, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

Without opening his eyes, his arms instinctively wrap around you, pulling you in as if his body recognizes yours even in sleep. He hums, low and warm in his throat, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Another one lands softly on your forehead, his lips lingering just a second longer.

“What time is it?” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and laced with sleep.

You smile against his skin. “It’s cuddle time.”

That makes him chuckle, soft and breathy. “Mm… yeah. It is cuddle time.” His voice is sleepy and fond, like he’s still halfway between dreaming and waking but already happier with you in his arms.

He begins to run his hand slowly up and down your back, the motion gentle, comforting, like he’s tracing the outline of a memory he wants to keep. Your limbs slowly melt into his, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Neither of you says another word. You don’t need to. The silence is full, wrapped in the warmth of morning light and the warmth of each other. You breathe in his scent—clean skin, faint traces of his cologne, and something that just smells like home. He rubs lazy circles on your back, and you nestle deeper into him, feeling perfectly safe, perfectly held.

And for a while, that’s all the two of you do—just exist in each other’s arms, wrapped in stillness, in warmth, in something that feels a lot like love.

You’re nearly dozing off in his arms when a low, unmistakable rumble breaks the silence. Hyunjin’s stomach. You stifle a giggle against his chest, then lift your head to look at him. His eyes are barely open, still heavy with sleep, but there's a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I never thought I’d meet a literal starving artist,” you tease, grinning.

Hyunjin lets out a soft laugh, his hand brushing gently up your spine. “There’s a first time for everything,” he murmurs, voice still raspy and warm.

You smile, leaning down to press a long, lingering kiss on his lips. He hums into it, chasing after your mouth even as you pull away.

Sitting up, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and glance at him over your shoulder. “Come on, starving artist. Breakfast isn’t going to make itself.”

And with that, the two of you pad barefoot into the kitchen, still wrapped in sleep and laughter, ready to start your morning side by side.

-

You and Hyunjin move around the kitchen like it’s second nature—passing each other ingredients, bumping hips by accident and sometimes on purpose, stealing tiny kisses between flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs.

Eventually, the two of you sit down at the small table with steaming plates and warm mugs in front of you. The morning sun filters in through the window, casting a golden glow across his face, and for a moment, you forget about your food entirely.

Hyunjin catches you staring, a soft grin pulling at his lips. “What?”

You shake your head, cheeks warm. “Nothing. You just look…” You glance down at your plate, smiling. “Happy.”

He tilts his head, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world. “I am.”

You both take a bite, and then—like some invisible thread pulling you together—you make eye contact again. Neither of you says a word, but you both start laughing, that kind of laughter that bubbles up from the chest and fills the room with joy.

You glance at the clock on the wall and point at it with your fork. “You’d better hurry if you don’t want to be late for class.”

Hyunjin groans dramatically, leaning back in his chair like his whole world is ending. “Why are you like this?” he whines, dragging his hand down his face before lazily reaching for his coffee.

You smirk, sipping your drink. “Because someone has to keep you on schedule.”

He sighs and stretches his legs out beneath the table, nudging your foot with his. “Hey,” he starts, eyeing you curiously. “Why do you never want to sleep at my place?”

You raise a brow, already knowing where this is going. “Because I told you—I’m not sleeping there until you get a bedframe.”

Hyunjin snorts and leans forward, arms folded on the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But it’s better without the bedframe,” he says with a smug grin. “I mean, considering the heavy activity we usually do on it.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands for a second before breaking into laughter.

“It’s the truth,” he says proudly, and as you’re still laughing, he leans over the table and kisses your cheek, the kind of soft, lingering kiss that makes your smile stretch even wider.

“Go get ready,” you say, nudging him with your foot again.

He gives you one last grin before standing, already moving slowly—like he doesn’t actually want to leave.

Instead of putting it on, Hyunjin carries his jacket in hand as he heads to the door but before he opens it, he turns around and pulls you into a hug. His arms wrap around your waist, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss—one that makes you forget, for just a second, that he’s supposed to be leaving.

“I’ll pick you up later,” you start to remind him, but he steals another quick kiss.

“You better be ready for the shoot,” you say between another peck.

He hums, lips brushing yours. “Mhm.”

“And don’t forget to bring the laptop—”

Another kiss.

“Hyunjin,” you laugh, lightly pushing his chest, “I’m serious.”

He grins, and this time, he kisses you properly—long, warm, and affectionate, like he’s pouring everything he doesn’t have time to say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours as he murmurs, “I’ll see you later.”

You smile. “See you.”

He opens the door, steps out into the hallway—and just before the door fully closes, you call out teasingly, “Have a great day at school, sweetheart!”

You hear his soft chuckle through the door, and it makes your heart flutter just a little more.

Once Hyunjin left, you return to your coffee, still warm, and curl your hands around the mug as you settle on the couch. With Hyunjin gone and the apartment quiet, you pick up your phone and tap open Lustre, checking your notifications—likes, comments, a couple of new messages from subscribers. You scroll through them absentmindedly, sipping from your mug.

Then, a message lights up your screen. It’s from Felix.

Felix: “Did you see what Sienna just posted on her Instagram?”

Your brows knit together. Without replying, you exit the app and head straight to Sienna’s profile.

There it is—a brand new carousel post from her birthday party at the villa. You swipe through the photos one by one, smiling at the familiar moments. Then you pause.

There’s a picture of you and Felix on the couch. You’re leaning in close, both mid-laugh, heads tilted toward each other. It’s harmless—at least to you. But something about the way it looks could easily be misread.

Curious, you scroll down to the comments and that’s when your stomach drops.

“Omg Felix was there???”

“Wait are they together?”

“They’d actually be such a hot couple.”

“Are they doing a content together?”

“Hyunjin was there too??? That’s crazy lol”

The further you scroll, the worse it gets—speculations, assumptions, people making jokes, some even tagging Hyunjin. You blink, suddenly feeling ice settle in your chest.

It’s just a photo. It meant nothing. But now, it seems like it means everything.

-

Hyunjin sits tucked into the farthest corner of the library, shielded by tall bookshelves and the quiet buzz of soft-spoken students. He keeps his hood on, headphones dangling from his collar, and opens his laptop with a quiet sigh. It’s his short break between classes, and though he should probably be reviewing his sketchbook or prepping for critique, his fingers move on their own.

He logs into Lustre. Your page loads almost instantly, and right at the top is a new post. A set of photos—you're in a hot tub, skin glistening with water, your expression teasing and soft all at once. His heart skips. He swallows and scrolls further down to the premium content.

A new video.

Hyunjin hesitates for a breath before clicking. The screen fills with you—both of you. The video opens slow, a sensual moment captured between kisses. His mouth moves over yours in the recording, patient and wanting, and he watches as the scene unfolds with a familiar ache in his chest. He knows every second by heart, but still, he watches.

He sees himself kissing down your neck, your chest, lingering with reverence. His hands cupping your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples until they're hard and begging for his mouth. And then, his lips are there—sucking, kissing, leaving trails of wetness against your skin. He hears your moan, low and needy, and it shoots straight through him, grounding him in memory.

A memory that feels both distant and painfully close.

He blinks, the sound of your voice still ringing in his ears through the headphones. He aches—aches for your touch, your warmth, your laugh. And it's ridiculous because he just saw you this morning, kissed you at the door, held you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But now, tucked in this cold corner of campus, with the glow of his laptop reflecting your shared intimacy, Hyunjin misses you like he’s been apart from you for days. He tugs the strings of his hoodie tighter, trying to breathe through the feeling.

"God, I miss her," he mutters under his breath, voice barely audible.

And then, as if to comfort himself, he watches the video just a little longer—just until the moment your fingers curl in his hair, and you whisper his name like it’s the only thing that matters. Because to him, it is.

-

Hyunjin sits on the steps outside the campus building, arms resting on his knees, fingers absently playing with the ring on his thumb. His eyes flick to the time on his phone again. You're late—twenty minutes past the time you said you’d be here.

But he can’t be mad. Not even a little. Because he knows the second he sees you, any trace of frustration will dissolve. Just like it always does.

And then—there you are.

Your car turns into the parking lot, the familiar shape and color making his chest stir with something giddy. His heart picks up its pace as he rises, already walking before the car even fully stops. Half jogging. Trying to keep cool. But inside, he’s a mess of excitement and relief.

Through the windshield, he catches your face—bright with a smile that only grows wider the closer he gets. And God, that smile. It makes everything worth it.

He opens the door and slides into the passenger seat, exhaling the kind of breath you only let out when something heavy finally lifts from your chest. He turns to you, eyes soft, full of affection.

You grin at him. “So… how was school?”

He lets out a chuckle, already feeling lighter. “It was alright.”

You pout at him, playfully dramatic, leaning slightly closer. “That’s it? No kisses for mommy?”

Hyunjin cracks a sonorous laugh but he doesn’t waste another single second to cup your face and leans in, crashing his lips to yours with a quiet desperation. It’s not just a kiss—it’s every moment he spent missing you today, every glance at his phone, every second he watched that video and remembered the taste of your skin.

He kisses you like it’s the first time, like it’s the only time, like he’s never going to stop. When he finally pulls back, breathless and smiling, he whispers, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you mutter back with a smile and the look in your eyes tells him that you missed him too.

Hyunjin leans back in his seat, stealing glances at you as you drive. The late afternoon sun filters through the windows, casting warm golden streaks across your face. He swears you look even more radiant than you did ten minutes ago.

Then something catches his eye in the backseat.

He shifts slightly and cranes his neck, spotting a handful of shopping bags sitting neatly behind your seat. He raises a brow.

“Is that why you were late?” he asks, a teasing edge in his voice.

You keep your eyes on the road, trying to suppress your smile. “I just did a little shopping.”

“A little, huh?” he echoes with mock disbelief, glancing at the visible number of bags again.

You just shrug, that infuriating smirk tugging at your lips.

Now he’s curious. “Alright then, what did you buy?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, lips still curved. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you, a crooked grin forming on his face. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not supposed to be,” you shoot back, playful and smug.

He leans closer, voice low. “You’re lucky I missed you too much to argue.”

You hum, pleased with yourself, and tap your fingers on the steering wheel like it’s your final word.

And as Hyunjin turns to look out the window again, he can’t stop smiling—because whatever it is you bought, whatever surprise you’re hiding, he already knows it’s going to be something that will make him fall for you all over again.

-

The hotel room door clicks shut behind you, and instantly, you're both bathed in the warm, muted lighting of the room. The decor is sultry—velvet textures, deep maroon walls, and golden accents that feel like the perfect match for today’s shoot concept. You and Hyunjin walk in slowly, your steps muffled by the plush carpet as you take in the lush details together.

Hyunjin whistles under his breath, letting his fingers trail along the velvet sofa. “They really understood the assignment,” he murmurs.

You smile, eyes drifting toward the grand bed in the center of the room, framed by thick curtains and dressed in layers of soft, dark sheets.

Before you can say anything else, Hyunjin snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Come here,” he grins, leading you straight to the bed until both of you tumble onto it, laughter spilling into the room.

He ends up hovering over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “Should we test the bed first?” he murmurs, voice low and full of promise.

You kiss him, soft but lingering, before pulling back just enough to smirk at him. “We can test the bed later,” you say, voice teasing. “Right now, we’ve got work to do.”

Then, with a quick push, you shove him back, sending him flopping onto the mattress with a dramatic groan.

“Ugh!” he grumbles, still sprawled out, his arms thrown to the sides.

You stand over him, arms crossed. “Get to work, Hwang Hyunjin, you’re still working for me,” you tease, fighting the urge to laugh at how ridiculously cute he looks.

He sighs, dragging himself up like it’s the hardest thing in the world. “Okay, yeah, let's working.”

As you get ready in the spacious bathroom, Hyunjin moves around the room with practiced ease, adjusting the camera settings, checking the angles, and tweaking the lighting until it perfectly captures the warm, moody tones of the velvet and maroon surroundings. He takes a few test shots, reviewing them quickly on the camera’s screen, making sure everything’s ready.

Once he's satisfied with the setup, he brushes his hands off on his jeans and heads toward the bathroom door, knocking once before pushing it open gently and then he sees you.

You're standing in front of the mirror, halfway through hooking one of your black stockings to the garter around your thigh. The lace lingerie hugs your figure just right—elegant, daring, and all-black with the kind of details that make his mouth go dry. You haven’t even turned around yet, but Hyunjin can already feel the heat rushing to his face. He leans against the doorframe, stunned into silence, eyes tracing every inch of you.

You glance at him through the mirror, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips. “You okay there?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. He blinks, swallows, then runs a hand through his hair as he exhales sharply. “I—uh—I think I forgot how to breathe.”

You chuckle, finishing with the other stocking, smoothing it up your leg as if you didn’t just knock the air out of his lungs.

“Wow,” he finally says, stepping further inside. “How am I… How am I still alive?”

You giggle and glance at him. “Too much?”

Hyunjin shakes his head quickly, his eyes still roaming. “Too perfect.”

He slowly walks closer, every step deliberate, his eyes drinking you in like he’s seeing something sacred. He stops just in front of you, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and for a moment he doesn't say anything at all. His gaze moves from your eyes to your lips, then trails lower, taking in every curve adorned by lace and black silk. His lips part, but no words come out—only a shallow breath.

You smile gently. “Cat got your tongue, mmh?”

Hyunjin finally exhales, his voice low and hoarse. “I just… should I really let people see you like this?” His eyes lift to yours, dark with something raw. “Because right now, I want all of this for myself.”

You chuckle softly and take his hands, guiding them around your waist and placing them firmly on your body. He doesn't resist, only pulls you in closer like he never wants to let go.

“People can look, sure,” you whisper sweetly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “But they’ll never have me. Only you do. I’m yours.”

He closes his eyes at your words, forehead gently pressing to yours as he holds you tighter, that little possessive ache blooming in his chest in the most beautiful way. He leans in, brushing the softest kiss against your lips—sweet, slow, and claiming, like a promise.

“Let’s make something beautiful,” he whispers.

-

Hyunjin adjusts the lens one last time before raising the camera, the strap brushing against his chest as he finds the perfect angle. You’re already posed on the velvet sofa—legs crossed, back arched just slightly, your fingers trailing along your thigh with effortless elegance. The maroon tones of the room cradle you like a painting, and Hyunjin forgets to breathe for a second.

Click.

He lowers the camera just to look at you again, no barrier this time. “God,” he mutters under his breath, “you’re unreal.”

You shift into your next pose, one knee tucked beneath you, your elbow resting on the sofa’s arm, your eyes piercing straight into his.

Click. Click.

Hyunjin grins, completely swept up. “Are you trying to kill me? Because it’s working.”

You give him a slow smile, sultry and knowing, and he swears under his breath before taking another rapid series of photos. He moves closer, crouching a little to catch the light glinting off your garter clip.

“You’re ravishing,” he says, voice loud now, no shame. “You’re everything. Look at you—look at you.” His voice echoes slightly in the velvet room, bouncing off the soft walls with an almost desperate awe.

You tilt your head, lips parted just slightly, holding his gaze through the lens—and that’s when he laughs, breathless and giddy.

“This? This is art. You’re making my camera fall in love with you.”

Click. Click. Click.

The photos are stunning already, but to Hyunjin, nothing can compare to seeing you like this in real time—confident, magnetic, and entirely his.

You move across the room like you own it—like velvet and lace were designed just to frame the shape of your body. Hyunjin can barely keep his hands steady as he lifts the camera, adjusting the focus to capture the way you arch on the bed, the contrast of your black lingerie against the deep red sheets. The soft lighting hugs your skin, glowing, like you’re some forbidden dream he somehow gets to touch.

“Lift your chin a little,” he says, voice rougher than he meant it to be. “Yeah… right there. Look at me.”

And when you do—God, when your eyes meet his through the lens, sultry and sure—it’s like the air in the room thickens. His breath catches, and he forgets to press the shutter.

You’re mesmerizing. You shift slightly on the bed, your fingers curling into the sheets, and he swears under his breath. The way your lips part ever so slightly. The way you tilt your head like you already know what you’re doing to him.

The camera lowers slowly. His hand falls to his side, his chest tightening with something he can’t quite name. You notice the shift immediately.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, brow arching as you rest on your elbow.

But he’s already walking toward you, drawn like a moth to flame, like he’s not quite in control anymore. His hand slides up to your jaw, his thumb brushing the line of your neck as he tilts your face toward his. Then he kisses you. Hard. Deep. Hungry.

Your lips give under his, warm and familiar, yet thrilling every single time. He pours everything into it—the ache that’s been simmering since he saw you walk out of the bathroom in that damn lingerie, the way your gaze seared right through him while you posed. He can’t get close enough. Not fast enough.

You gasp softly against his lips, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. It only fuels him more. And when he finally pulls back, just enough to breathe, he still doesn’t let you go. Instead, he leans in again—deeper this time, urgent and consuming, like if he doesn’t kiss you right now he’ll lose his mind.

It’s you who breaks the kiss, gently pressing against his chest. He lets you pull away, barely, your lips slightly swollen, your breathing uneven. You pout, eyes narrowed as you reach up and swipe your thumb over his lips.

“You ruined my make-up,” you say, and there’s that sweet trace of amusement in your voice.

Hyunjin breathes out a soft laugh, dazed and completely smitten. “It’s going to be ruined anyway,” he murmurs, eyes roaming over you again. “It’s only a matter of time.”

You let out a low chuckle, shaking your head as you step off the bed and walk to the mirror. He watches you reapply your lipstick with such care and ease, and all he can think is how stupidly beautiful you are—how lucky he is that you’re his.

You glance at him through the mirror with a teasing glint in your eye. “Alright, artist. Let’s finish what we started.”

Hyunjin exhales slowly, his fingers tightening around the camera again. And as you move back onto the bed, giving him another sultry look through your lashes, he knows he’s completely, helplessly yours.

-

You can feel his focus slipping—and you love it.

Every time the shutter clicks, you hold his gaze through the lens a little longer. You arch your back a little deeper, tilt your head just enough to let your hair fall over your shoulder, bite down on your bottom lip like you’re thinking of something you shouldn’t be. You see the way his jaw tenses. The way his fingers twitch around the camera. The way his breathing grows heavier with each pose you give him.

So you decide to push him just a little further.

Turning slowly, you shift onto all fours, letting your back arch and your hips tilt just so—your rear angled perfectly toward him, knowing full well what you’re doing. You glance at him over your shoulder with a playful smirk

“Does this pose work for you?” you ask sweetly, voice dipped in honey.

There’s a beat of silence. And then— A deep, heavy sigh. You hear the camera being lowered, the quiet thud of it being set aside.

“You’re evil,” Hyunjin mutters, and when you glance at him, his face is the perfect picture of surrender. He looks almost dazed, like he’s been hit by a wave he never saw coming.

He crosses the space between you in a few strides, every step deliberate. Then you feel him behind you.

Hyunjin steps in close, his presence swallowing you whole. One arm snakes around your waist, firm and possessive, pulling you flush against him. His other hand slides up—slow, deliberate—until his fingers curl around your neck. Not too tight, just enough to make your breath catch.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he murmurs, his voice rough and breathless. “You win.”

You giggle softly, and he groans like the sound alone is enough to ruin him. Then his lips find your skin—your lower back, the curve of your spine, gentle and worshipful.

You shift slightly, looking back at him again. “You were supposed to be working,” you tease, but your voice comes out quieter than intended.

He only smirks, hands still caressing your thighs. “I am,” he says, eyes dark and full of longing. “I’m just... appreciating the art up close.”

Hyunjin leans down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he speaks. “Still want to tease me?” he murmurs, his voice low and dark, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you can answer, his grip tightens around your waist. He tilts your chin toward him with the hand on your neck—rough, commanding—and then he’s kissing you.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet.

It’s desperate. Possessive. Hungry.

His mouth crashes against yours like he’s trying to make up for every second he couldn’t touch you today. Like he needs to claim you, right here, right now. You whimper into the kiss, your hands reaching back to hold onto him, needing something—anything—to ground you.

But Hyunjin doesn’t let up. He presses closer, lips moving with urgency, his hand at your throat keeping you tilted just right so he can devour you. You can feel the heat of him at your back, the hard press of his chest, the way his breathing turns ragged between kisses.

And all at once, you forget about the shoot. About the camera. About everything that isn’t him—his hands, his mouth, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

He pulls away from the kiss just long enough to push you down onto the bed—rough, unyielding, and yet, everything your body aches for. Your hands sink into the plush bedding as he settles behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

Then comes his mouth, hot, open-mouthed kisses trail from the nape of your neck down to the arch of your spine, each press of his lips sending a shiver across your skin. He takes his time, savoring the way you tremble beneath him. When he reaches the small of your back, he growls low in his throat and pulls you back—closer—until your body aligns perfectly with his.

You feel his cock—hard and aching—pressing against your heat through the thin layers of clothing that suddenly feel far too suffocating. He rolls his hips, slow and deliberate, and you can feel the friction of his growing bulge against your clothed sex, the promise of what's to come, making your breath catch.

Looking over your shoulder, you give him a playful, breathless smirk. “This,” you whisper, voice laced with a teasing lilt, “is why you need a bedframe.”

Hyunjin doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smirk. Instead, his hands slide over yours, gripping them tight before folding them behind your back in one smooth, practiced motion. You gasp—not out of fear, but from the sheer thrill of it—as he pins your wrists in place with one hand.

His body covers yours, chest brushing your back, lips ghosting over your ear. “You think you’re the only one who can tease?” he whispers, voice like sin and silk. “It’s my turn now.”

And you can feel the air shifts—thick with anticipation—as he begins to show you exactly what he means.

-

Hyunjin keeps your wrists pinned with one hand, the other trailing slow, deliberate paths down the curve of your body. His touch is featherlight at first, tracing the slope of your spine, the delicate strap of your bra, toying with it just enough to make your breath hitch.

You shiver when his fingers slip lower, gliding over the lace waistband of your underwear, grazing the edge of your garter. Every brush of his fingertips sends ripples of anticipation through you—his touch reverent, almost artistic, as if he's painting you into memory.

Then he moves to your thighs. He palms over the stockings, relishing the texture beneath his hand as he reaches the back of your thigh. His fingers curl around the softness there, squeezing gently before traveling higher, circling over the swell of your ass with a quiet, appreciative hum.

You exhale sharply against the sheets, your breath catching when his fingers skim between your legs—close, so close—just enough to make your hips shift back into him, silently pleading.

He doesn’t give you what you want, not yet. Instead, his fingers ghost over where you need him most, teasing, not touching—his restraint maddening. A moan slips from your lips, muffled into the bedding, and he chuckles low behind you.

“Already this desperate?” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger and pride.

And you're too far gone to care, all logic melted away beneath the weight of his touch, your body aching for the next move—his next word—anything he’ll give.

He releases your wrists, but you don’t move. You stay just as he left you—back arched, cheek pressed to the sheets, your breathing uneven. You feel the shift of the mattress behind you, and then his hands are on the back of your thighs, spreading them slightly. His lips brush your skin, soft at first, then firmer, more purposeful. He kisses the back of your thigh, then another—lower, closer—until his mouth opens and he sucks at the sensitive skin just above your garter, hard enough that you gasp.

The sting is warm, blooming, and you squirm, but his hands are steady, holding you in place. You barely catch your breath when he starts again, kissing across the round of your ass, leaving behind a trail of slow, wet heat. Every press of his mouth is deliberate—messy, adoring, greedy. It has your heart racing, your fingers curling into the sheets, already unraveling under his devotion.

Then he shifts, lower still, and you barely manage to lift your head before you feel it—his mouth, hot and open, pressing between your legs. You cry out softly, more from shock than anything, the sound muffled by the sheets.

His tongue moves over the thin barrier of fabric with torturous patience, lapping and teasing, never settling in one place too long. You can feel his tongue tracing your clit through the silky fabric of your underwear. The fabric grows wetter by the second, and your thighs tremble with the effort to hold still. You don’t know if it’s his saliva or your essence or both, but everything down there is soaked—swollen with want, trembling with need.

And Hyunjin… he groans softly against you, like he’s the one being pleasured, like tasting your need is the reward he’s been craving all day.

You barely notice when his mouth leaves you, not until the sudden emptiness makes you whimper softly into the sheets. But then his hand returns—sliding along your inner thigh, up and up, until his fingers slip past the soaked edge of your underwear and find you exactly where you’re aching.

You gasp when he touches you there—slow, gentle strokes at first, running his fingers between your folds repeatedly as if he's learning you all over again. And then, without warning, one of his fingers slides inside you, and your whole body tenses with pleasure.

"That’s it," he murmurs, voice low, rough with desire as he leans over your back, his chest warm against you. "So perfect like this."

Another finger joins the first, and he begins to move them—pumping slowly, deliberately, curling just enough to make your breath hitch with every motion. His lips graze your ear as he speaks, soft words spilling into the space between moans and movement.

"You feel like heaven… every time."

You bite your lip, trying to hold in the sounds he’s pulling from you, but it’s no use—he knows how to unravel you too well.

His pace remains steady, each stroke sending sparks through your spine. “You always take me so well,” he breathes, his voice reverent, sinful. “So warm, so good for me.”

All you can do is melt for him—hips trembling, hands clawing at the sheets, body giving in to the praise and the pleasure of his touch. Just when your breath starts to catch, when that familiar heat coils tight and desperate in your belly, Hyunjin suddenly stops. His fingers slip out of you with maddening ease, and the sudden loss makes you cry out—half a gasp, half a groan pressed into the sheets. Your hips twitch, instinctively seeking him again, but he doesn’t give in.

“Hyunjin,” you whine, frustration thick in your voice, but you already know what this is.

He’s quiet for a beat, the weight of his presence behind you heavy and warm—and then he chuckles softly, smug and utterly pleased with himself. “Payback,” he says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’ve been torturing me all day, baby.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, shooting him a glare that quickly fades into a breathless pout. And he grins, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“Now you know how it feels,” he adds, dragging his hand slowly down your back, a teasing touch that promises nothing and everything.

You wiggle in place, needy and unsatisfied, but part of you loves it—loves the game, the tension, the way he holds you on the edge like a secret only he gets to keep. Because with him, it’s never just teasing. It’s foreplay laced with fire, and you know he won’t leave you waiting too long.

You turn over, lying on your back with your hair spilling across the pillow and your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. There’s a flush to your skin, your lips red and parted, and he swears he’s never seen anything more tempting.

Without a word, he brings his hand to your lips, offering his fingers—coated with your essence. Your eyes don’t leave his as you take them into your mouth, wrapping your lips around them and sucking slowly, deliberately. Your tongue swirls, tasting yourself on him, and the way he watches you—dark eyes fixed and jaw clenched—makes your stomach tighten.

He pulls his fingers free with a soft groan and leans down, replacing them with his mouth. The kiss is heated and hungry, his lips crashing onto yours as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, needing the weight of him, the warmth.

When he finally pulls away, you breathe against his mouth, voice barely a whisper, pout blooming on your lips. “Let’s agree on stop teasing each other.”

Hyunjin smiles at that, brushing a thumb against your cheek before he kisses you softly once more. “Agree,” he murmurs, eyes locked with yours.

-

Hyunjin leans down, stealing another kiss—slow and deep—before pulling away with reluctance, your taste still lingering on his tongue. Standing at the edge of the bed, he gazes down at you, his expression dark with desire. His eyes rake over your body like a man who knows exactly what he wants and how he’s going to take it.

With a single tug, he peels his shirt off, tossing it aside carelessly. Your eyes trail along his chest, the soft rise and fall of his breath, the faint lines of muscle under his skin. He sees the way you're watching him—hungry, eager, your lips slightly parted as your gaze follows his fingers down to the button of his jeans.

He pops it open slowly, deliberately. The zipper slides down with a soft sound, and when he frees himself, your reaction is instant. You smirk. Your teeth graze your lower lip like you're barely keeping yourself contained, like the sight of him only makes the fire burn hotter inside you.

Hyunjin sees it all—and it only drives him wilder.

His gaze darkens as he looks down at you, the hunger in his eyes unfiltered. His hand glides slowly down your body, fingertips brushing the curves he knows so well. “Can't decide if I want to take it off of you or... fuck you in it ” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl as he twirls his finger around the strap of your garter.

Before you can answer, you feel the slow, deliberate pressure of his throbbing member rubbing against your clothed heat. The friction pulls a soft moan from your lips, your hips shifting involuntarily, chasing more. He smirks, enjoying the way your body reacts to every teasing move.

Then you feel it—his length slipping under the lace of your underwear, the hot pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your breath catches, back arching just slightly as your fingers clutch the sheets. “Hyunjin…” you whisper, the sound lost between need and anticipation.

He grips your thigh, holding you in place, and leans in close until his forehead rests against yours. “I don’t have the patience to wait anymore,” he mutters, and without breaking eye contact, he pushes your underwear to the side and sinks into you slowly, drawing a raw, breathless moan from your lips as your body welcomes him. His name escapes you again—soft, desperate—just before he starts to move.

Hyunjin suddenly stills inside you, his breath caught in his throat as he glances down, looking at the way his cock buried to the hilt inside you. He doesn't move—just yet—choosing instead to savor the moment, the feeling of being wrapped so tightly in your warm, velvety walls. His hands trail down the sides of your thighs, gently rubbing soothing circles as your body adjusts to him. Then, with practiced ease, he lifts your legs and presses them together, guiding them up against his chest. His palms glide along your stockings, fingers tracing over garters and soft skin alike, and he lets out a quiet groan as he feels the way you flutter around him.

“You’re already this tight,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. “And I haven’t even moved.”

Your eyes meet his, wide and dark with anticipation, and the way you clench around him in response has his restraint beginning to slip. He leans forward slightly, his lips brushing your knee as his hands stay firmly on your legs—keeping you right where he wants you.

After a moment, Hyunjin starts to move—slow yet intense thrusts that have you gasping with every roll of his hips. He keeps your legs pressed close to his chest, eyes never leaving you as his rhythm builds in intensity, drawing sweet, breathless sounds from your lips.

You reach up, hands sliding under the cups of your bra to scoop your breasts free, fingers finding your nipples and rolling them between your fingertips. The sight makes Hyunjin curse under his breath, his thrusts faltering for a moment as he watches you fall apart beneath him—your back arching, mouth parting as his name spills from your lips in a desperate moan.

It doesn't take long until your release crashes over you with dizzying intensity, your walls pulsing around him, and Hyunjin slows down, then stills completely, staying inside you as he lets you ride it out. His hands stroke gently along your thighs, his breathing uneven, and his eyes soft with something deeper as he watches the way you tremble, utterly undone.

-

You lie there, catching your breath, your body still buzzing from the high he just gave you. Hyunjin doesn’t move at first—he stays close, warm and quiet, as though memorizing every inch of you with his touch. His fingers trail gently along the side of your thigh, soothing, grounding you. Then he tugs lightly at the band of your stocking, his lips curving into a small, mischievous smile.

The soft snap of the garter strap makes you shiver.

He peels the stocking down your leg with a deliberate slowness, like he's unwrapping something precious, eyes flicking up to meet yours every so often, just to watch your reaction. Once it’s off, he presses a kiss to your calf, then your ankle, his lips warm and soft. You giggle quietly when he lifts your foot and places it on his chest, then lowers his mouth to kiss your sole—light, playful. You gasp when he sucks your toe into his mouth, and your giggle escapes without warning, breathy and laced with delight.

Hyunjin’s eyes crinkle as he grins against your skin, the tension between you still humming but softened by the kind of intimacy that made your heart feel full. When he looks at you, it's with a heat that hasn't dimmed, but also with something gentler—something deeper. In that moment, you realize: this isn’t just about teasing anymore. It’s about trust. Want. Care. Maybe even more.

Without pulling out of you, he climbs fully onto the bed, one hand spreading your thighs apart as he settles between them. The way he glances down—his eyes dark, breath catching at the sight of how intimately you’re connected—his cock buried inside you little cunt—sends a rush of heat through you. You deliberately tighten around him just a little, a subtle squeeze meant to get a reaction and you get one.

A sharp, low groan vibrates in his chest as he lifts his gaze to yours with a glare that’s anything but serious. “I thought we agree that there will be no teasing,” he mutters, voice husky and accusing.

You can’t help the little giggle that bubbles out. “I can’t help it,” you whisper, looping your arms around his neck, drawing him in until your noses brush.

His lips crash into yours with a kind of controlled urgency, and you gasp against him, startled when he starts to move again—slow at first, then deep, purposeful. Each movement presses heat through your spine, making your toes curl. You moan into his mouth, and he drinks it in, letting your sounds fuel his rhythm.

You wrap your arms tightly around him, legs curling around him as his face hovers close, brows drawn together, lips parted in concentration as he tries to hold himself together. You brush his damp hair away from his forehead, watching him come undone little by little with every movement.

"Are you going to come for me?" you whisper, voice low and tempting, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

He doesn’t answer—he can’t. So you trail more kisses down to his jaw, his neck, each one sweet and warm.

“Don’t stop, please,” you murmur against his skin, “not until you fill me up.”

Those words ripple through him. You feel it in the way his rhythm falters for just a breath before picking up again—faster now, more desperate. His mouth finds yours again, messier this time, kissing like he’s losing control and a while later, he does.

You feel him bury his cock deep into you, a trembling groan slipping from his lips as he comes inside. You cling to him, your hands stroking his back as you feel every wave of it, his warm seed filling you and you whisper soft praises into his ear—gentle, loving words meant only for him.

“You filled me full with your love, mmh?” you murmur, rewarding him with a soft kiss on his neck.

Hyunjin is still reeling from his intense climax to answer you so instead, he's holding you through the aftershocks, as if you’re the only thing anchoring him to earth.

-

Hyunjin’s fingers find the delicate clasp of your bra, undoing it with practiced ease. He lets it fall away from your body, revealing more of you, and his gaze lingers—not with hunger this time, but with reverence. He teases you lightly, pinching at the softest parts of your hips, your sides, making you squirm and swat at him with a playful pout.

“Just appreciating my muse,” he murmurs with a wicked grin before leaning in to kiss the spot he just teased.

Piece by piece, he helps you out of the last of your lingerie. Each touch is gentler than the last, like he’s unwrapping a gift he wants to remember in every detail. When you’re bare before him, he sighs quietly, as if the sight of you like this—soft, warm, trusting—overwhelms something deep in him.

He reaches for the plush duvet and draws it over both of your bodies, tucking it around your shoulders. The weight of it cocoons you together, and you instinctively nestle into his chest. His arms wrap around you, his nose finding that perfect spot in your hair as you settle.

Your legs tangle under the covers. His fingers trace lazy shapes along your spine, and your hand rests over his heart, feeling the steady rhythm beneath your palm. There's no rush now. Just the soft quiet that follows when everything has been said without needing words.

And then, after a long pause filled with nothing but warmth and closeness, he lifts his head just slightly, eyes catching yours in the dim light.

“I love you,” he says, low and sure.

Your heart stirs, full and aching in the best way. “I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice barely above a breath, but every bit as certain.

Hyunjin smiles—a slow, dazzling thing—and pulls you even closer before pressing another kiss to your lips. This one is different. This one feels like a promise.

-

Hyunjin wakes to the gentle pull of sunlight slipping past the curtains, painting warm streaks across the sheets tangled at his waist. But it isn’t the light that roots him in this still moment—it’s you.

You’re snuggled close against him, your breath soft and even, your face buried in the crook of his neck. One of your legs is thrown over his, your arm draped lazily across his bare chest, and the faintest smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he tilts his head to take you in.

God, you look peaceful like this. Gorgeous. Touchable. Real.

He whispers it without even thinking. “Beautiful…”

A kiss lands on your shoulder, light as the morning breeze. Then another, lower this time, as his hand trails down the curve of your back beneath the covers. His fingers pause to linger on the soft dip of your waist, then follow the line of your hip as he murmurs, “I can’t believe you’re mine to hold like this…”

There’s no rush in his movements, just the slow savoring of a moment too perfect to disturb.

He pulls you closer, your body molding so perfectly into his that it makes his chest ache. With a gentle sigh, he presses a kiss to your forehead, then brushes his thumb softly across your cheek, whispering the words again like the morning itself calls for them.

“So beautiful.”

You stir then, just slightly, making a soft, sleepy sound before nestling even closer into the curve of his body. Hyunjin smiles, his heart full and still beating too fast for a moment so quiet. You look small, delicate in his arms, and he’s never felt so protective or so content.

He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, leans in, and kisses you—first your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips, gently coaxing you awake with the weight of affection alone.

Your pout forms before your eyes even open fully, and it makes him chuckle softly. “Good morning,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with sleep and love.

He watches as you struggle to open your eyes, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks. He smiles at how cute you look—still half-dreaming, your lips in a slight pout of resistance to the morning.

“Still sleepy?” he whispers, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek.

You give the smallest nod without even opening your eyes, and the sight makes something tender swell in his chest. He leans in to kiss your cheek softly, then pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and letting you melt back into his embrace.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs followed by a quick peck on your lips.

It’s quiet again for a while, your breathing slow and warm against his skin. Then, with a faint shift against his chest, you stir—lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze with sleepy eyes.

“Breakfast?” you mumble, voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

Hyunjin chuckles, the sound deep and affectionate. “That’s the first thing you ask in the morning?” he teases, brushing your hair behind your ear.

You only hum in response and drop your head back onto his chest, dozing off again almost instantly. He laughs softly, utterly smitten, and places a kiss on your bare shoulder as he holds you tighter, his heart full to the brim.

“How are you this cute in the morning, mmh?” he whispers into your hair as he pulls you even closer.

-

The hotel room is quiet except for the low hum of city traffic filtering in through the windows and the gentle clink of cutlery against ceramic plates. You sit cross-legged at the small round table by the window, one of the fluffy hotel robes draped around your body, your hair still tousled from sleep. Hyunjin sits across from you in a white tee and sweats, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you spoon yogurt into your mouth with sleepy eyes.

“You’re staring,” you murmur around a bite, not looking up.

“Can’t help it,” he says, reaching for a piece of croissant and tearing it in half. “You look cute like this.”

You smirk without lifting your gaze. “Messy hair and all?”

“Especially messy hair.”

You roll your eyes but feel warmth rising in your chest. You lift your glass of juice, sipping slowly, and then glance over at the unmade bed behind him—still a tangle of sheets from last night’s closeness.

You set your glass down and say casually, “We need to talk about your bed situation.”

Hyunjin pauses mid-chew. “What about it?”

“You know what.” You arch a brow at him. “It’s just a mattress on the floor.”

He exhales, already smiling as he leans back in his chair. “We’re really doing this again?”

“Yes, we are. Hotel beds make me realize how criminally neglected your bed is.”

“It’s not neglected—it’s humble.”

“It’s a safety hazard,” you shoot back, poking a piece of toast with your fork. “One wrong step in the dark and I’m going down like a tragic love story.”

Hyunjin laughs, rubbing his temple. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you’re in denial.” You reach across the table to tap his wrist. “Get a bedframe. Please. For me.”

He pauses, eyes searching yours for a long beat, and then sighs with the kind of fondness that only comes from giving in. “Alright. I’ll get a bedframe.”

Your face lights up, and he can’t stop himself from grinning. “Wait—really?”

“I’m just trying to protect my tragic love story,” he says, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. “Can’t have her going down over furniture.”

You laugh, pulling your hand back to butter another piece of toast. “You’re such a romantic.”

“I’m trying,” he murmurs, watching you like he still can’t believe you’re real.

And for a little while, the two of you eat in comfortable silence, bathed in soft morning light, city noise humming just faintly behind glass. No rush, no worries—just shared croissants, sleepy affection, and the promise of a bedframe waiting back home.

-

Hyunjin tightens the last bolt and leans back on his heels, wiping sweat from his brow as you sit comfortably on the sofa, grinning at him like he’s the most entertaining show of the afternoon.

“So... you’re just going to sit there and watch?” He asks, raising a brow at you as he holds up a screwdriver.

You nod without shame, your grin growing wider. “Exactly. That’s why I wore this mini skirt—so I could cheer you on properly.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at his lips. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m supporting you emotionally,” you say, lifting your arms like a tiny cheerleader, swaying your hips in a silly little dance. “Go, Hyunjin! Tighten that screw! Look at those muscles work!”

He laughs, the sonorous kind and the sound echoing off the bare walls. It’s ridiculous. It’s adorable. It’s so you.

“Keep going! That bedframe isn’t gonna build itself!” you shout, clapping once before pretending to wave imaginary pom-poms.

He throws you a playful glare as he returns to his task, but he can’t stop smiling. Your voice is a constant melody in the background, lifting the mundane into something soft and warm.

Half an hour later, Hyunjin fits the final piece into place and gives the frame a satisfying little shake. It holds steady. Solid. Done. Before he can even sit back and admire his handiwork, you're off the sofa and throwing yourself at him with a gleeful little squeal, your arms wrapping around his neck as you press kisses to his cheek, jaw, wherever your lips land first.

"You did it!" you beam, peppering his face with kisses, not caring one bit about the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. “My strong, handy man.”

Hyunjin laughs, his arms looping around your waist as you practically climb into his lap. “Is this my reward?”

You hum against his cheek, planting one last kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Mmhmm.”

He grins, still catching his breath from both the work and your sudden affection. “Well then,” he says, glancing over at the newly built bed with a sly raise of his brow, “shouldn’t we… test it out? Make sure it’s sturdy?”

You pull back just enough to catch the look in his eyes, and your grin matches his. You nod eagerly, mischief sparkling in your gaze. “For quality control, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he echoes, standing with you still in his arms, making you squeal again.

-

The next thing you know, you're lying on your side on the freshly made bed, one hand propped under your head, the other resting idly on your thigh. Hyunjin sits cross-legged near the edge, sketchbook balanced on his knee, eyes flicking between the page and the curves of your body.

You pout, your lips jutting out in exaggerated protest. “This is so not what I thought you meant when you said we should test the bed.”

Hyunjin chuckles, not looking up. “You didn’t ask how we were going to test it.”

You huff softly, the kind of sound that’s more for attention than anything else. It gets quiet, save for the occasional scratch of pencil on paper. And that just won’t do.

He glances up from his sketch briefly—just in time to catch you giving him the eyes. That soft, coy look that says you're up to no good. He smiles to himself but keeps sketching.

So you up the ante, your fingers slip to the hem of your mini skirt, tugging it just a little higher, just enough to reveal the delicate lace of your white underwear. You stretch slightly, letting the movement seem casual, practiced in the art of subtle seduction.

Hyunjin’s pencil stills. His eyes flick up. He sees you. Really sees you. Then—like nothing happened—he goes back to his sketch.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, flopping your head dramatically onto your hand. “I’m being so patient right now.”

That does it. He sets the sketchbook aside with a quiet thud, pencil resting on top. Then, wordlessly, he crawls up the bed toward you, his hands bracing on either side of your waist. He doesn’t need to say anything—the look in his eyes says it all.

“You’re too cute for your own good,” he murmurs, dipping down to brush his nose against yours.

Your pout softens into a smile as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “So does this mean we’re actually testing the bed now?”

Hyunjin grins, already leaning in for a kiss. “Yeah. Now we are.”

He kisses you so deeply that your back gives way beneath you, head hitting the pillow with a soft thud. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, and you respond with just as much urgency, fingers threading into his hair, tugging him impossibly closer.

His hand slips under the hem of your skirt, fingers trailing slowly, teasingly up your inner thigh. Then, with the softest pressure, he brushes his knuckles against the lacy fabric covering your quivering cunt, dragging a low moan from your lips as your hips instinctively lift to meet his hand.

But then—your phone rings.

A shrill vibration from the nightstand pierces through the moment, slicing cleanly through the fog of heat between you. Neither of you move. You both pretend not to hear it, mouths still moving, breath hitching.

It rings again.

You sigh into the kiss, reluctant, and start to pull away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist and kisses you again, quick and possessive. You chuckle breathlessly. “You're so persistent,” you whisper against his lips.

“Let it ring,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw, your neck.

But it’s too late—you’ve already leaned over, grabbing the phone with your free hand and pressing the accept button before you can think twice.

“Felix?” you say into the phone, voice soft and slightly out of breath.

Hyunjin groans beside you, flopping onto his back dramatically and covering his face with the crook of his arm as he hears the name.

Of course it’s Felix.

You shoot Hyunjin a glance and bite back a grin as you shift slightly to get more comfortable—because now you’re caught between the call and the very pouty boy lying next to you. And then, your entire expression shift.

“What?” you blink, suddenly sitting up. “Now?”

Whatever Felix says in return has you scrambling to your feet, fumbling to straighten your clothes as you rush off the bed, breath catching as you fix the hem of your skirt and run a hand through your hair.

Hyunjin immediately follows you, confused but alert. “What happened?” he asks, grabbing his hoodie off the back of the chair without thinking, already pulling it on as he trails after you.

“I—Felix—he’s here. He’s outside.”

“What?” Hyunjin repeats, but you're already pulling open his apartment door.

The two of you stumble into the hallway, your steps hurried, your voice still in conversation on the phone. But the moment you look up, your steps falter.

Felix stands there, leaning casually against the doorframe to your apartment with his phone still pressed to his ear. His expression is soft, but his smile spreads wider when he sees you—warm and familiar, like he's been waiting for you this whole time.

You slowly lower your phone from your ear while Hyunjin comes to a halt right behind you, and for a second, he feels something shift—like the hallway itself closes in on him. He glances at you, then at Felix, and for a beat too long, no one says anything.

Felix’s gaze flicks briefly to Hyunjin before returning to you. “Hey,” he says casually, still smiling.

And suddenly, Hyunjin feels like he turns invisible.

-

There's a tension in the air so you break it by push the door to your apartment open and then you step aside to let Felix walk in first, and Hyunjin follows in quietly behind him. It's too quiet, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you oddly loud.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” you say, forcing a smile as you move to the fridge. “I’ll go get us drinks.”

You can feel the weight of the silence in the living room as you pull out two cans, fingers moving quickly. When you return, you spot it instantly—Hyunjin, sitting on the armrest of the sofa, scowling openly at Felix, who lounges casually with one arm draped over the backrest like he owns the place.

Your eyes narrow, and you subtly nudge Hyunjin’s shoulder as you hand him his drink. He flinches a little, eyes darting to yours, and you give him a warning look that says: behave. It seems to do the trick. He clears his throat and focuses on opening his can.

Felix cracks open his drink and leans back with a sigh, like he doesn’t feel the tension in the air—or maybe he enjoys it. “So,” he starts, gaze sliding toward you. “Have you thought about it?”

Hyunjin stiffens beside you. “Thought about what?” he blurts out, too sharp.

Felix smirks as he takes a sip, and you curse under your breath. Of course he’d word it that way.

“I was gonna explain it to you,” you say quickly, turning to Hyunjin. “It’s… about Sienna’s post. From her birthday. She uploaded a few pictures, and there’s one with me and Felix. People saw it and jumped to conclusions.”

“What kind of conclusions?” Hyunjin asks, brows furrowed.

“That we’re doing something together. That I’m—Felix and I are collaborating.”

His expression twists in confusion. “Collaborating… on what?”

Felix sets his can down with a soft thud and picks up smoothly, “Content. The people want it. Comments were full of it. Since the buzz is already there, I told her she should consider making it happen.”

You glance at Hyunjin just in time to catch the flicker of something crossing his face—realization, then discomfort, then something else entirely.

“I haven’t said yes,” you cut in quickly, your voice a little sharper than intended. “I’m still considering it. That’s all.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything at first. He leans back against the sofa, can resting loosely in his hand, gaze fixed on the floor like he's trying to piece something together. The silence stretches, taut and uncomfortable, and you hate how loud your heart feels in your chest.

Felix, ever unbothered, takes another sip and raises an eyebrow. “You’re not good at sharing, are you?” he asks Hyunjin with a half-smile.

That makes Hyunjin tense—jaw tight, shoulder stiff under your touch. “Felix,” you warn under your breath, but he keeps going.

“I mean, come on,” Felix gestures lazily. “You’re an artist, right? You get that some things are just… for the sake of creating. Art. Nothing deeper. This shouldn’t be that big of a deal to you.”

He glances at you then, expectant. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

Your mouth opens—then closes again. You glance between them, and your words get stuck somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Hyunjin’s eyes are already on you, waiting, searching.

“Is that what you think too?” he asks, quiet but firm. “That it’s just content?”

And you still can’t find an answer. You look at him, hoping he’ll see all the things you’re not ready to say yet, but your silence only settles like dust between the three of you.

Hyunjin lets out a soft, bitter laugh, barely audible. Then he nods once, glancing at Felix before rising to his feet.

“Alright,” he says. “You and Felix should do it then.”

And the space he leaves behind feels colder as he takes a step back.

-

You wait a while after Felix leaves. Long enough, you hope, for Hyunjin to have cooled down—long enough for him to sort through the mess of emotions that had settled between the three of you. You stare at his door for a second before finally lifting your hand and knocking.

There’s a beat of silence. Then another.

When the door finally swings open, Hyunjin stands there in sweatpants and a loose tee, his hair pushed back messily like he’s been running his hands through it. His expression is unreadable—calm, maybe too calm—as he meets your eyes.

“You have the spare keys,” he says plainly, voice low. “Why didn't you let yourself i ?”

You don’t answer him. Not with words.

Instead, you take a small step forward and slip into his arms, your hands curling around the back of his neck as you press your lips to his. At first, he’s still—his lips unmoving beneath yours—but when you whisper his name against his mouth and kiss him again, you feel it. The slow give. The shift. The way his mouth moves with yours like he’s been waiting for permission to breathe.

When you finally pull back, it’s only just, your hands still resting on his chest. You look into his eyes, your voice a soft murmur that’s more invitation than tease.

“We haven’t tested the bed yet.”

It takes a second, but then you see it—the flicker of something in his gaze, the tension in his shoulders finally softening. His lips curl into a quiet smile, the kind that makes your chest ache.

“No,” Hyunjin says, voice warm and low now. “We haven’t.”

And with that, the distance between you disappears.

-

You sit straddling Hyunjin, your hands braced on his chest as he lies beneath you, eyes heavy-lidded and burning with quiet awe. His lips are parted, breath ragged as he watches the way you move—slow, deliberate, the rhythm of your hips rolling forward and back, then circling with aching control, feeling his whole length inside of you. The warmth between you builds steadily, thick with intimacy and tension.

Hyunjin’s hands rest uselessly at his sides, fingers curling into the sheets like he's unsure if he’s allowed to touch. You reach for them, lacing your fingers with his before guiding his palms to your body—where you want them, where you need him.

"Touch me," you whisper, breath ghosting over his skin, your voice both sweet and commanding.

His hands splay wide over you, reverent and searching, and you can feel the way it drives him wild—the way his eyes can’t decide where to land, how his jaw clenches like he’s holding something back.

“Do I feel good to you?” you ask softly, leaning down so your lips brush his jaw as you speak.

He doesn’t answer at first. Just nods, slow and eager, his pupils blown with want. You giggle softly, seductively, brushing your nose against his cheek before finally kissing him—long and deep, until you feel his arms wrap tight around your back.

Then, with a low sound deep in his throat, Hyunjin begins to move—his hips bucking from beneath you, matching your rhythm with his own. The kiss falters into a moan, swallowed between your lips as your bodies find a new pace, a new harmony. It’s warm, breathless, consuming—and so utterly him, you never want to let go.

You catch Hyunjin off guard, pressing your palms to his chest and pushing him flat against the mattress. His eyes widen, lips parted in surprise as he lets out a soft gasp, but he doesn’t resist—he never would.

You smirk down at him, hair falling in loose strands around your face. “Nice try,” you murmur, a teasing glint in your eyes as you sink back into your rhythm, rolling your hips with more purpose this time.

Hyunjin’s head tips back against the pillow, his lashes fluttering as a groan escapes him. His hands grip at your waist now, desperate for grounding, but he lets you lead—lets you guide the pace, the pressure, the pleasure.

You move with a blissful ease, the soft smile never leaving your lips, even as his breaths grow shorter and the sounds spilling from his mouth turn into low, helpless whimpers.

He tries to keep his composure, but you feel the way his cock twitches and body tenses, the way his fingers tighten around you as he gasps, “I’m about to come.”

You lean down, voice warm and sultry against his ear. “Let it all in, baby,” you whisper, and you keep moving—driving him to that edge and staying with him as he tips over, completely yours in every way.

-

You lie draped over Hyunjin, tangled beneath the duvet, your cheek resting on his bare chest as his fingers lazily trail down your spine. The air between you is warm and quiet, pulsing with something tender and unspoken. His eyes are on you, soft and adoring, and when you look up to meet them, it feels like everything else disappears.

You press a kiss to his lips—slow, deep, filled with every ounce of emotion you have for him. When you pull back, your eyes never leave his.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Another kiss, and another. You could kiss him forever.

“I love you so much, Hyunjin… I’d do anything for you.”

That makes him grin. His brows lift slightly as he teases, “Anything?”

You chuckle at that, both of you laughing lightly before the moment quiets again. You trace the shape of his mouth with your fingertip, your smile fading into something softer, a little unsure.

“Are you still mad about Felix?” you ask quietly, searching his face. “Because I’m sorry… I should’ve told you everything sooner. I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

His hand pauses at the base of your spine, and for a moment he just looks at you—really looks. Then he shakes his head gently, brushing your hair back with careful fingers.

“I was upset,” he admits. “Not because I don’t trust you… I just—hate feeling like I don’t know where I stand with you sometimes.”

“You don’t have to feel that way,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “I love you. I really do. And if you don’t want me to do the collab with Felix, just say it. I’ll drop it. No second thoughts.”

Hyunjin exhales slowly, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I love you,” he says. “And I want you to be happy. That’s all I care about. I want you to do whatever you want… as long as it makes you happy.”

You can’t help but grin at that, your tone turning playful again.

“Well, you make me happy. So should I just do you instead?”

That gets a laugh out of him, his chest warm beneath yours as it rises and falls. “Of course,” he mumbles against your skin.

You lean in to kiss him again, deeper this time, your fingers tangled in his hair. “I love you,” you breathe. “So much.”

His smile is quiet but sure, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And I love you,” he says softly. “So much.”

In the space between words and kisses, everything is understood. The tension, the apologies, the teasing—it all folds into something stronger, something real. So, you and Hyunjin stay like that, wrapped in quiet laughter and whispered affections, drifting off in each other’s arms. The bed you built together creaks softly beneath you, a small and perfect reminder that love—like everything else—takes work, but it’s worth it.

Because with Hyunjin, it always is.

-

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[moonlight-alexia]

daylight | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x williamson!reader | 1.5k | you and kyra have been seeing each other for a little while but she doesn't know you're leah's sister and leah doesn't know about kyra

ˏˋ°•*⁀ my new daylight universe. i've been trying to get this one going for like six months now and finally had a breakthrough and got most of this series planned out! hope y'all enjoy it

‘You know, you kind of look like someone I know,’ Kyra was standing by the counter watching you put together a little flower arrangement for an order you had later in the day. 

Since Kyra joined Arsenal and moved to England she had come across your shop and couldn’t stop herself from frequenting quite often. Spending way too much just to have an excuse to keep coming back and seeing you. From the moment she stepped foot inside your shop she was enchanted by you. A pull inside her that she couldn’t ignore.

‘Oh really?’ You looked up at Kyra briefly, a small smile on your lips every time you laid your eyes on the girl in front of you. Kyra in the beginning was quite awkward and you could tell she didn’t really want or need to be buying as many flowers as she was, you could tell her excuses were just that. But you found it quite endearing and played into the little game.

After a few weeks of Kyra’s almost daily visits, you were well aware of her attraction towards you. You weren’t oblivious but you wanted to see if she would get the courage to actually ask you out or how many more weeks of pointless buying of flowers were you going to watch Kyra do. It ended up being quite a few.

‘Yeah, oddly familiar,’ You just chuckled and shook your head, focusing back on the flower arrangement in front of you, while Kyra kept trying to think of who she knew that you looked similar to.

‘How are you finding Arsenal? Settling in well?’ You changed the topic, you didn’t mind having Kyra’s eyes on you, watching you. But having her staring at you intently was a little unsettling, not like her normal gaze towards you.

You smiled, listening to Kyra talk about her work. Your sister would always bore you when you asked about her teammates, to the point you had to tell her you didn’t really care about each person’s skill set but how they were doing. By this point you’d met the majority of the team at Arsenal, you were friends with quite a few just by being Leah’s sister.

‘You should come to a match,’ Kyra whined and you smiled even more, reaching over to rest your hand on top of hers. You were honestly surprised she hadn’t seen you had a match yet, you liked supporting your sister and watching her play. Though since meeting Kyra you had stayed a bit more hidden at matches than you normally would, Leah telling you that some of the others were complaining that you hadn’t been around much after matches or accusing Leah of hiding you away from them.

It wasn’t completely intentional. Things with Kyra were going slow but steady and had been going quite well. You wanted her to know you for you and not as Leah’s younger sister. Also not wanting to ruin anything by telling her, though a part of you knew that the longer you waited the more complicated it might be. For now you were ignoring that part and just focusing on the girl in front of you.

Also your sister had a tendency to scare away people you were involved with. You didn’t want that to happen with Kyra, especially since Leah and Kyra were teammates. Which added another layer to this complex web you’d created. What if Kyra knew you were Leah’s sister, would she still want to see you? 

‘Hmm, maybe I could be convinced,’ You smirked, leaning over the counter slightly, your hand still on top of Kyra’s giving a little squeeze.

‘I think seeing me in my kit on the pitch would be convincing enough,’ Kyra smirked, she knew how you reacted when she had come straight from training to your apartment for dinner one night, still in her full training kit. Dinner was completely thrown to the side. Kyra imagining what you’d be like after you actually came to one of her matches. Though she obviously didn’t know you were Leah’s sister and that you’d already seen her play.

Leaning closer into you, Kyra closed the gap and connected your lips together. The kiss was anything but work friendly, luckily it was your own shop and you had closed and locked the door while you had your little lunch date with Kyra. You deepened the kiss, your hand cupping Kyra’s cheek while your other hand laced your fingers with hers, ‘Want to take this out the back?’ You asked, mumbling against her lips. 

Safe to say, Kyra definitely ‘convinced’ you and that following Sunday you were dressed in your Arsenal beanie and scarf, your sister's jersey underneath your puffer jacket. You weren’t supposed to be coming to this match, so Leah was definitely surprised to see you in the stands, but for Kyra you were able to move around your other commitments. Honestly, you just couldn’t resist Kyra’s pout and would do anything she asked you. 

You were in the same area as your mum, who was aware you were seeing Kyra and also kept it a secret from Leah having seen how protective Leah could be over you, but you weren’t so close to her and kept interactions as little as possible in case Kyra noticed. 

Both Kyra and Leah had seen you during warm ups, thankfully at different times so you gave them both a little wave and smile. Kyra’s eyes lingered over to you quite often, she already told you how cute you looked when you sent her a photo earlier, but seeing you in person was a different story. 

You and Kyra weren’t official in terms that you hadn’t talked about the label of being each others girlfriend or anything, but you both weren’t seeing anyone else, spent a lot of your time in each others apartments, going on dates all the time and the other week when someone had referred to you as friends she corrected them and called you her partner. You didn’t really know what it meant, you both danced around actually talking about your feelings but you were hers and she was yours.

‘You’re going to have to tell them both eventually,’ Your mum leaned over slightly. You always cursed how well your mum could read you, she could see how you were internally panicking on how today is going to turn out. At the end of the day you did this to yourself, and if worst happens you’d rather Kyra finding out you hadn’t told her you are Leah’s sister rather than Leah finding out you are seeing Kyra.

‘I know,’ You groaned slightly, running your hands over your face, ‘But everything’s just been so good lately. I don’t want to ruin it all,’ Your mum was always warning you that the longer you took the more complicated it would all get and she wasn’t wrong. The pit in your stomach wishing there was a way that you could back and admit everything from the beginning because it definitely never got easier or a more right time to admit what you weren’t telling.

‘They’ll be upset you didn’t say anything but you aren’t going to ruin anything with either of them,’ Your mum gave your shoulder a little reassuring squeeze, ‘Plus you know I’ll want to officially meet Kyra soon enough,’ You smiled and rolled your eyes at your mum. 

Even though you never played, you were still just as passionate as Leah was when it came to football. Your supportive passion could never be matched by anyone else, it was how you and Leah were so close despite the slight age gap between you and your older siblings, ‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ Leah was the first to approach you after you did hide yourself away a little but Kyra was just being her goofy self annoying her fellow Aussies out on the pitch after the match.

‘Well surprise,’ Not trying to come up with an excuse as to why you suddenly were able to be at the match knowing Leah would see right through you, ‘Can’t I just randomly turn up to support my sister?’ Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms feigning annoyance towards your sister.

‘My bad. Forgot I wasn’t allowed to question what you do anymore,’ Leah dramatically held up her hands, the corner of her mouth turning up into a slight smile. You laughed out, when you were a teenager Leah was way too protective over you so you told her to get lost and stop pestering you about what you did and who you did it with, now she always brought it up when she was messing around with you. You were quite the dramatic teenager, Leah was glad you grew out of that phase, ‘Come on, everyone misses seeing you after a match. We just won, come celebrate with us,’ 

Leah practically dragged you down and over the barrier onto the pitch. No matter how much you tried protesting your older sister, she wasn’t taking no for an answer. It was good getting to see the girls again, you had avoided a few of them since you started seeing Kyra, and even when invited to their little outings some of them would have, you made up excuses to not go.

‘Have you met Kyra yet? I think you’d get on quite well,’ Even though Alessia was also a new signing you had obviously already met her with her and Leah playing for England together.

‘No she’s been avoiding me after matches. I haven’t had the chance to introduce them,’ Before you knew it Leah was dragging you over to where Kyra was pestering Steph.

‘Kyra,’ She smiled when she saw you but it was quickly replaced with confusion with you next to Leah, ‘Meet my sister,’

[vaokses]

How long this love can hold its breath

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: It has been years since your mother took you from King's Landing to join her in Dragonstone. Years since you and Aegon have seen one another. Years in which he has refused, time and time again, to marry, even as you tour Westeros meeting suitors in search of a husband of your choosing. That refusal can easily be undone with a few words: it was you she chose, Aegon.

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Alicent's abuse of Aegon. Alcohol/drunkenness. Mentions of sex/prostitution. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Arranged marriage stuff. Angst. Hurt and kind of no comfort for now.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother's claim. She rides Vermithor. As you'll figure out thorugh this one shot, she and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King's Landing. How relevant or impactful that 'thing' was depends on who of the two you ask. I've stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King's Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry.

A/N: My first work in this fandom, so i'm a bit nervous. This is a bit of a prologue/alternate PoV for a series I have in the works, but I wanted to share it as a one shot since I think it also works as one. I hope you like this!

Title is from the quote "I've hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river. Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath." - Sierra DeMulder

It feels as if he has just rested his head on his pillow when he hears the heavy doors being pushed open, and the familiar hurried steps of his mother as she enters his apartments. 

He isn’t sure why he bothers by now in telling the guards not to let her in, since she insists on overruling his orders whenever she wishes. 

Still half-asleep, Aegon reaches for the bedsheet covering his body, wary of any attempt she might make in her anger to pull it off him. Surprisingly, his mother stops a few steps away from the foot of the bed. 

Aegon feels her piercing gaze on him, and aware the choice is between caving and chasing after her, asking her what it is she wants; or waiting for the anger at his unwillingness to follow the unspoken command -and the thrown object, or the stinging hit, that comes after said anger-; he drags his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself further and asks,  

“What is it, mother?” 

“Where in the Father’s name were you? Three days, Aegon,” He winces at the reprimand. In his defense, he truly didn’t think they’d notice. Helaena would, perhaps, but she wouldn’t seek him out either way. “You were gone for three days.” 

“I wasn’t…far. I didn’t even leave King’s Landing.” 

She starts letting out a sigh, laced with disappointment and annoyance, but stops herself short, instead turning her back to him and pacing a few steps away. 

“I know where it is you go to…to satiate your vices, caring not for the shame it brings to your name and mine, behaving most unlike your station.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

His mother won’t turn to look at him, her back turned to him and her hands joined in front of her. 

“Your sister was here.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“My sister is always here.” 

“Rhaenyra was here, Aegon.” 

“Oh. What for?” 

Alicent turns on her side, considers him with eyes widened in afront and mouth curled in disgust. The question leaves her lips slowly, a threat and a dare all at once. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

He mulls over the question for a few moments, and realizes his thoughts are entirely too calm for him to be already sober. The numb haziness of the night before remains, a comfort. 

“I think I might be,” He admits, eyes darting to the side and lingering on the pitcher of wine on a nearby table. He wonders if it is empty. “Slightly.” 

When it seems his mother is intent on merely staring at him in disappointment, he motions for her to turn away and gets dressed. 

He can’t help but feel unseemly, standing before his mother in rumpled clothes and disheveled hair, while she stands tall with not a strand of hair out of order, not a speck of dust on her dress. Then again, even at his best he hasn’t managed not to feel small, unsuited, by comparison. 

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, aided by the comfortable haze the wine from the previous night -or nights, rather- provides him with, Aegon moves to sit on a table in one of the darker parts of the room. 

Alicent follows quietly, but she doesn’t sit. 

“I come here with news. You are to be married, n-…” 

He shakes his head with a mocking laugh, the defiance as easy as breathing, after four years of holding the same stance. He might not have a say in much, but he does in this. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Your father has approved of this union. As have I.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Then you are welcome to marry her yourselves. I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you three.” 

Sometimes, perhaps in foolish hope, in some hollow fantasy, he thinks his impertinence amuses his mother. He might imagine it, he’s quite certain he does, but sometimes he swears she furrows her lips to hide the faintest of smiles. 

But of course, she shows no give, betrays not a flicker of amusement, of softness, of anything. Try as he might to earn any of them. 

“I did not come here to entertain insolence.” 

“Why did you come here, mother?” He asks, not able to reign in the restless movements of his hands, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “My stance hasn’t changed. And it won’t.” 

The restlessness building within her is betrayed in the small movements of her hands that increase in intensity the longer she looks at him. With a sudden movement, she slams a hand on the table between them and leans closer. 

“You cannot go on like this, Aegon, shrinking your duty because of the denial of a caprice of your youth.” 

“It was the one thing I asked for. I haven’t asked for anything since, nor did I ask for anything before.” 

His mother scoffs in response, looking away. 

“And that is reason enough for your wish to be granted?” She asks, derisive, almost jeering. Alicent leans back, straightens her stance again. Not too unlike Aemond adjusting his posture to strike with his sword during training, he supposes. “You have gone through your entire life doing as you please, not considering the cost to your family, to your House, to me, and you expected to be rewarded?” 

But he has considered the cost, has had no choice but to consider it, when every choice, every action, it seems almost every thought, is heavy with the impact it might have on his name, on his family. He has considered the cost, but try as he might no choice, no action, has been enough. 

“It would have…It would have changed things. If you had said yes,” He argues, an argument repeated, in his head if not aloud, a thousand times over in these passing years. And yet restlessness builds within him regardless, and he finds himself grasping at the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. “It was the smart choice. You know father would have been for it. You could have kept Vermithor on our side, and given them no choice but to play by our rules with their daughter here. We might have won this war you want so b-…” 

“All I have wanted is to make sure your lives are not forfeit when your father dies. It is not war I want.” 

“Then why did you say no?” 

She shakes her head as she looks away again. 

“The matter is settled. Long settled.” 

“Yet you never told me why.” 

He wants to hear it. More than an apology for denying him a chance at happiness, more than an admission that beyond the feelings of any involved it was the smartest choice, more than anything, he wants to hear her tell him why. 

She didn’t even hear his reasons, she didn’t even consider proposing the union to your mother, or Viserys. She dismissed him, and denied him, without even a second thought. 

He wants to know the reason why. If it was because she knew of you something he didn’t, and was certain you would have rejected him even at the cost of your home and life as you knew it, he wants to know. If it was because she believes him so monstrous that she wished to protect even the daughter of her lifelong adversary from him, he wants to know. 

If it was because in his weakness and his failings he has made himself into something even his own mother wishes to see punished, or because there was something he did -because it had to be something he did, there cannot be so many that were supposed to love him and refuse to for it not to be something he is doing wrong, something about him that is wrong- that not only managed to make his mother’s love for him vanish, but also earned him her scorn, he wants to know. He thinks knowing that to be the truth would splinter him in a way he isn’t sure he’d be able to recover from, but he is tired, and alone, and he wants to know why. 

He searches his mother’s gaze, desperate for an answer, any answer. She looks back, and yet all that is reflected back at him is contempt, disappointment, and what he fears is disgust. 

“It has been years, Aegon. You are being senselessly stubborn, holding onto this…this grudge against me.” 

He makes a face at her words, and grabs the pitcher in the table before him only to find it empty, the only wine remaining being that still in the half-filled cup. 

“It is not a grudge, I-..”  

“Weakness, then,” She sentences, and he doesn’t bother hiding the flinch at her words. His gaze lowers to the table before him. “You’re being a fool, if you think after all this t-…” 

His eyes are set on the half-full cup of wine before him, and he doesn’t dare move his gaze as he interrupts, “I am not marrying, mother.” 

She considers him in silence, and though for a moment he thinks a hit is to come -he doesn’t usually get away with interrupting her-, followed by her footsteps leaving the room, his mother takes a deep breath and insists, 

“It is not me or your father who request this of you. It is your King who commands it.” 

“The King, or his Hand?” He retorts. He grabs at the cup and downs the remaining liquid, making a face at the taste of stale wine, and presses on, “I’m guessing a Baratheon, to earn Borros’ support? Or a Tully, to secure the Riverlands?” 

For the briefest of moments, when his mother’s lips press into a thin line, hands fidgeting where they rest joined before her, he thinks he finally got the upper hand. That he proved he isn’t as blind to their plots and their increasing panic at Rhaenyra’s influence as he may appear. That he proved her wrong, that he showed he isn’t as incompetent as they’d like to think, that he… 

“A Velaryon,” Alicent admits, and any pride, any satisfaction, die out like flames in a room without air. His lips part, he knows not for what since all that leaves them is a choked breath, the beginning of a question, of a name. Aegon searches his mother’s gaze, attempts to find any truth, any certainty, but Alicent looks away. Her next words sound as if heard from underwater. “To keep you from certain execution when your sister ascends the Iron Throne.” 

“Do not toy with me, mother,” He means for it to sound like an accusation, like a demand, like anything but a plea, and yet that is what leaves his lips. Betrayed by the waver in his voice, by the iron grip on the glass, he goes on, “She’s touring the whole of fucking Westeros in search of a husband as we speak.”  

“She has made her choice, Aegon. It was you she chose,” She promises, and her voice is low and warm and almost comforting, so why does it feel wrong? Why does it make him want to crawl out of his own skin? “As for the tour, it will continue as scheduled. Rhaenyra deserted her own tour before time was due, she knows better than to repeat her mother’s mistake.” 

Breathable air is lacking by this chair, in this room, and he stands up, wincing at the too-loud sound of the chair scraping against the ground. 

He eyes a pitcher of wine in another table, and crosses the distance with quick strides, refilling his cup and draining half of it before turning to his mother again. 

“Why tell me now? I-If the tour is to continue,” If she can still change her mind, “Why tell me now?” 

“Your grandsire and I believed you might take this opportunity to amend your behaviors,” Alicent tells him, “So you might save your future wife the embarrassment, so you might protect her honor, seeing as you do not care for ours or your own.” 

She hasn’t said your name yet, he notices.  

Neither has he, but he has forgotten when it was the last time that he said it aloud. Intentionally, that is, he doesn’t count any time he let it slip past his lips when deep in his cups or buried inside some whore with the wrong shade of silver in her hair -and the wrong eyes, and the wrong voice, and the wrong smile, and the wrong touch-. 

Aegon can’t even remember when it was that he decided he wouldn’t utter your name again, all he knows is that through the years what started out of spite, as a way to deny the wound and the absence; has become something else. It has become to him something like a secret, something to be hoarded, to be kept his alone. 

Because there’s pride, and satisfaction, and something rotten but his, in having known you in ways no other did. In remembering you how he is certain -he has to be, it is of the few things he has left- no one has known you. 

And so he doesn’t speak your name. Lest in sharing any of the warmth of a bond long gone he loses it, dying embers to a strong wind; lest in admitting old truths he is left behind also by the part of you that he keeps safe, a secret only his. 

But now in his head resonate so loudly that they drown anything else -like thunder, like the beat of Vermithor’s wings taking you far up into the sky- his mother’s words.  

It was you she chose. 

Thinking of you has always meant the resurgence of the memory of the goodbye you refused to grant him, of waking to the reverberating cry of Vermithor as he took to the skies with you on his back and flew you away to Dragonstone; or the memory of your disappointment and your sorrow as he avoided your gaze and your words when you met again in Driftmark.  

Yet now the memory that comes forth in his mind is another. 

You smiled at him, daring and entirely too proud. But how could you not be, when you both knew he would oblige? How could you not be, when he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from your lips since you had asked him for something as simple as a kiss? And your voice was softer than he’d expected -or perhaps he remembers it softer than it was, perhaps he sees something else when desire was all there was-, warmer than it had ever been, when you whispered, I want it to be you. 

And what harm can your name do that his own mind hasn’t inflicted upon him already? What ruin can the uttering of such a familiar word bring that the memories haven’t wrought already? 

So he says your name. Willingly, rationally, for the first time in years.  

He thought the foolish refusal to utter your name aloud kept you distant, kept the memory of you, the idea of you, as something far from him, gone from him. But he realizes now, with the shape of your name parting his lips and the taste of memories staining his tongue like ash; that you have been a distant memory, a distant dream, for a very long time. 

And the knowledge that you chose him, the helpless hope that blooms somewhere in his chest, they cannot do a thing against the horrifying certainty that the future he wanted, the future he mourned, is lost to him regardless of your choices now. 

What can he give you now, that that Tyrell knight the rumors say you were so enamored with cannot? How can he not fail whatever expectations you have of him, as he has failed all others? How could you want him now, as what he has made out of himself in these years you’ve spent apart? 

It was a comfort, he realizes now, thinking you lost. The comfort of knowing he couldn’t fail you, couldn’t earn your scorn when he had merely your indifference. 

A bitter, wretched little laugh leaves his lips then, and he turns his head -to hide, perhaps, the tears brimming in his eyes, the weakness his mother so loathes to see from him- and looks out the window towards the distant skies. 

Alicent doesn’t move, merely stands taller, prouder, and presses, 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Of course, this is what he fucking wanted, but nearly four years have gone by since he asked to be allowed to marry you and was refused. Even if some part of him wants it, wants you, still, it matters not. 

It is what he wanted, before. Before everything got worse, before everything got louder, harder. Before he got worse. Before you forgot about him. 

His mother approaches him then, and though he jumps when he sees her reach for him out of the corner of his eye, she grabs onto his forearm and speaks again, forceful, determined, 

“Listen to me, Aegon. Your sister has secured her hold on the Seven Kingdoms, both through the strength of her dragons and through her eldest children’s diplomacy with the noble Houses,” His mother tells him, but he cannot hear her, not over the warring thoughts of finally, finally, finally, and too late, too late, too late. “Rhaenyra has allowed for this to happen because she wishes to extend an offer of peace, and you cannot squander this opportunity.” 

He turns to her and asks, quietly, forlorning, “Why now?” 

“What?” 

“Why now?”

Why now, that everything is worse? Why now, that he has become this? 

For a moment, a flickering moment gone in the blink of an eye, he thinks he sees sadness, sympathy, in his mother’s warm gaze. For a moment, he believes she will offer words or touch in the way she hasn’t before, in comfort or in reassurance. 

But her gaze falls from his, and her grip on his arm -too tight, almost bruising, yet wanted, needed, if it is all he can get- loosens as she lets go of him. 

“The betrothal will be announced when the tour is over. The wedding in a week’s time from then.” She tells him, detached, not unlike a messenger delivering a missive. 

And with that she leaves his apartments. The door closing echoes in his mind, and he is left behind with a loneliness he doesn’t know where to put, and a hope he doesn’t know how not to fear. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

I am endlessly fascinated by the greens and their deeply weird dynamics, and I hope I did them a modicum of justice, even when changed in this AU and despite the influence of fanon in my interpretations of them.

[absurdthirst]

The Woman He Needs {Dave York x Plus Sized!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.7k

Warnings: Infidelity, dom/sub dynamic, unbalanced power dynamic, sugar baby/daddy-ish arrangement, body image issues, fat phobia, oral sex (male receiving), teasing, edging, rough sex, choking, cum play, mentions of a breeding kind, asphyxiation/ breath play, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, hints of violence, threats, demands to continue a pregnancy, confessions, Carol finds out, attack on a pregnant woman, divorce, happy endings

Comments: Dave York's assistant and very own personal sex toy, you are completely dedicated to giving him whatever he wants. Even knowing that he is married. Making it even more complicated when the situation changes.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Mr. York.” You knock on the door and open it less than an inch to see if your boss is busy. The file in your hand is one that he had requested, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not already on a conference call or something. He’s still wearing his suit jacket, not taken off yet but his tie is already pulled loose, a look that you love on the handsome DIA agent. He waves you in and you push the door open wider, knowing that you couldn’t fit through some small crack, you are too plump for that. “I have that file you wanted.” Dave York was a meticulous agent and often demanded information quickly. 

Dave looks up at you, a smirk on his face as he watches you set the file down on his desk. “Thank you.” He says, his eyes dragging down your figure. You’re wearing that dress he loves and you look fucking fantastic. “Shut the door.” He orders, setting his pen down and you shut the door behind you, leaning against it. “Come here.” He orders, pointing at the space in front of him beside his desk. You slowly walk over to him and stand before him as he turns his chair to face you. “Take them off.” He orders and your eyes widen, “take what off?” You ask, innocent eyes staring at him and he chuckles. “Those panties I bought you. Take. Them. Off.” He orders, “now.”

You bite your lip, cunt clenching at the authority in his tone. You know that he would strip them off of you if you refused, probably ripping them in the process and they are nice panties. It should be weird that your boss buys your underwear, but he fucks you enough that its almost his job to provide panties with as many as he ruins. “Yes sir.” You demure, bending down slightly as you reach under your dress to slide your panties down your thighs. 

Dave holds his hand out and you place the lace in his palm. “Good girl. Now, I want you to get under my desk and take my cock out. I have a call to make and it’s going to be boring. I don’t like being bored. I want you to entertain me.” He says, shoving the underwear in his desk drawer. “Are you going to keep me waiting?” He asks, eyebrows raised as you look at him a moment too long.

Your mouth waters, knowing exactly what he wants. The space under his desk will fit you, it’s been something that you’ve checked before. Dave wants you to suck his cock while he’s on the phone and you glance back at the door. It’s a good thing you had set the phone system to go to messages, knowing that he could have you under his desk for hours. Moving over to the desk, you kneel down to crawl underneath. 

Dave is already half hard for you. Your perfume he bought you wafting into his office from your desk right outside coupled with your sweet voice over the phone has him ready for you. You fumble slightly as you work his pants open and you pull his half hard cock out. “Shit.” Dave grunts when you wrap your fingers around his length. He scans his email, looking for the number he needs to call while he hardens in your grip.

You love when he is filthy. Picking up his desk phone and starting to punch in numbers while you stroke his cock until he’s fully hard. “Don’t fucking play around.” He growls, making you smirk slightly under his desk and take your hand away to spit in it, wrapping around his cock again and slicking him up. He grunts at the wetness and you lean forward to press your tongue to the slit. Wondering if he had fucked Carol last night, it was Thursday and she always wanted sex after watching Grey’s Anatomy.

“Hey, Davis. Just wanted to follow up with the reports from the latest mission. Yeah, I got my secretary to type it - shit - sorry. Yeah, she’s a good girl.” Dave groans slightly on the last part, your mouth engulfing his cock and he makes a fist as he grips the phone. Your mouth is so fucking hot and wet around his cock. Carol didn’t jump him last night and he was grateful but he’s pent up and ready to cum.

You preen quietly around his cock, knowing that praise was meant for you. Taking him deeper into your mouth and down your throat before you swallow around his length. Loving the way he twitches on your tongue. You’re going to drip onto the carpet under his desk, sucking his cock always making you wet. It’s why he took your panties, he loves seeing how wet you get from pleasuring him. Calling you his filthy, cock hungry whore. You love it. Your body isn’t slim and perfect, you’re plus sized but Dave loves fucking you for some reason.

Dave exhales deeply through his nose, listening to Davis ramble on about the logistics of the mission and the financials but Dave doesn’t give a fuck. He just needs to get this call out of the way. He reaches down to caress your cheek, loving the way he can feel the bulge of his cock against your skin. “Yeah. I think that’s a good move.” He tells Davis and he tells you as you hollow your cheeks around him.

He’s already starting to throb on your tongue, the taste of his pre-cum smearing around your mouth. He must be pent up. Him and Carol obviously didn’t have sex yesterday and so you want to make this good for him. You know you don’t have Dave, he’s married, he has a family. But he wants you for now, so you try to give him everything he wants from you sexually.

“Just like that.” He tells Davis and you. Davis is reciting the wording on the report and you are blowing him with an expertise that Dave taught you from that first time. You moan around his cock and he twitches in your mouth. He’s so close. His hand slides lower to your throat, gripping it slightly and his grip on the phone tightens.

It’s his signal that he’s about to cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing as you try to open your throat as much as possible. If Dave is already about to cum, he’s either pent up from stress or he didn’t fuck Carol last night. Either way, you are about to get a thick load of cum spurting down your throat and he would be mad if you let one drop get on his pants or your dress. You reach up and squeeze his thigh, already starting to swallow around him as you bob on his cock. 

Dave grunts while Davis rambles down the line about the report but Dave's cock twitches as he starts to cum down your throat. You swallow around him, making him close his eyes as he grips the phone and his grip on your neck tightens as he feels you swallowing every damn drop. "Fuck, that's good." He grunts and Davis says down the line, "thanks, boss."

His salty seed slides down your throat and you moan quietly around his length. Careful not to be too loud so Davis wouldn’t hear. Gasping when he finally quits cumming and you pull off his cock. Holding him gently and pulling out a handkerchief to dry him off so you can tuck him back into his pants and wipe your mouth. 

Dave inhales deeply, “I gotta go Davis. Sounds like you got it handled.” Dave slams the phone down and pulls back from his desk, looking down at you as you lick your lips. “Sit on my desk and spread your legs, sweetheart.” He orders, “I wanna see how wet you got sucking my cock.”

It’s hard to smirk as you are crawling out from under a desk, but you manage. Standing up and sitting on the edge of his desk as you slide your dress up to show Dave your soaked cunt. You could feel how slick you are as you moved and you know he will be very pleased. “Soaked,” you coo softly, your throat a little rough from deepthroating his cock. 

Dave hums, admiring your slick folds, and his hands slide along your thick thighs, squeezing the flesh as he leans in to smell the heady scent of your arousal. “So wet for me. You look like you need me to make you cum.” He coos, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. Your moan makes him chuckle and he pulls his fingers away. “Baby…” You whine and he slaps your pussy. “You know what to call me.” He growls and you pant, “sir. Please.” He loves hearing you beg but he loves to leave you squirming even more. He slaps your pussy again, your slick on his palm, “back to work. I want that report from Davis proofread before I get it.”

You whimper, loving and hating how you are being denied. “Yes sir.” You agree breathlessly, standing on wobbly legs, pressing your thick thighs together. You push your dress down. “May I have my panties back?” You ask, nodding when he just stares at you. You’re not getting them back obviously. “I’ll get right on that, sir.”

Dave smirks when you exit his office, gingerly walking from the arousal slicking up your thighs. He loves working you up, making you beg him to fuck you. A few hours pass by and Dave calls your name, “I want my lunch. Can you get it for me?” He asks, knowing you’ll rush out to get it but he’s not hungry for that sandwich he gets most days from down the street. No, he wants you. He’s hungry for you.

“Yes sir.” You quickly lock your computer and stand to go into his office. Most days you know his order by heart, but you always double check in case he has a craving for something different. Gathering your purse and your keys, you knock on his door frame and try not to smile when he looks up from his computer. “Would you like your regular order?” You ask softly. 

Dave raises his eyebrows, pleased that you ask in case he wants to try something else. “The usual will suffice.” He says coolly and you nod, spinning around. His eyes drop down to your ass and he watches you leave. He licks his lips and turns back to his computer, continuing to read the file on his next op.

Running down to the deli that Dave loves gives you a chance to get in your steps. Deciding to walk instead of driving, changing from your heels to your tennis shoes for the exercise. You constantly ignore the dismissive looks, the skepticism as you hustle by. You’ll order Dave his sandwich and a salad for yourself. 

When you return, Dave looks up to see you carrying his sandwich into his office and he smirks at you, "thanks, sweetheart." He takes the sandwich from you, "go take your lunch and come back here when you're done." He orders, loving the way you nod and hustle out of the room.

You eat at your desk. Aware that Dave could call for you at any moment, that he could need something. Even when you are taking lunch, you know that anything could interrupt that at any point. DIA issues don’t conform to normal hours. Pulling out your own container, you push away the salad dressing, knowing you don’t need the extra calories. Your bottle of water is what you will drink with it, keeping everything as nutritious as possible. 

Dave finishes his sandwich, balling up the wrapper and tossing it into the trash and he decides to grab a coffee. You will be eating and he doesn't want to interrupt you on your break. He makes his way out of his office and sees you sitting at your desk with a salad, dressing on the side. "How the hell can you eat a salad without dressing?" He asks, leaning against the door frame.

You look over at him, lifting a brow at his obvious disdain for your meal. “One bite at a time.” You hum, forking up another bite of the undressed greens and chew, looking up at him. He’s so sexy as he leans there and you wonder again why the hell he touches you. Sure, he’s not as fit as he was when he first joined the DIA, but he was still in much better shape than you have ever been. “It’s healthy and I need to watch my calories.” You smirk slightly. “Already got my protein.” 

Dave scoffs, pushing off of the door frame and he strides over to your desk. He picks up the small pot of dressing and opens it, pouring it over your salad. "Life is too short to eat boring ass leafy greens. You are fucking perfect like you are. Eat your salad with the dressing to be healthy but enjoy your food." He says, setting the empty pot down on your desk.

You stare at him for a moment, wondering why he would ruin your lunch like that. “Okay.” You put your fork down and pick up your water bottle. “Are you needing something else, sir?” You ask politely, taking a drink of water. “You are waiting on me to finish?” 

"Take your time. I do want to see you in my office after you're done." He says and decides to use the bathroom while you are finishing your lunch. "Eat up, sweetheart. You need the energy." He winks and makes his way to the bathroom down the hall.

You smirk slightly, knowing what that means and you quickly toss the rest of the salad in the trash. Rushing off to the bathroom yourself since you are sure that Dave will want to fuck you when you get back to his office. He’s quicker than you, already behind his desk once more when you come back to the hallway outside his door where your desk is positioned. “You wanted to see me?” You ask, slightly breathless after hurrying through your own bathroom ritual. 

Dave nods, his expression serious, and he gestures to the door, "come in and lock it." He demands, watching as you follow his order. "Come here and pull your dress up. I want you to sit on my desk, spread your legs." He orders, his cock twitching in his pants.

You walk towards the desk, pulling up your dress as you go and ignoring the way you imagine your thighs jiggle as you do. Watching as he pushes back from the desk to allow you to move past him and sit on it like you had earlier. Thankful that the desk is sturdy enough to hold you, not even creaking when you sit down and spread your legs like you had been ordered. It’s good it wasn’t one of those glass top things, it would never have supported you. 

Dave’s dark eyes trail along your figure down to your pussy. God, you look delicious and he wants to devour you but right now, he wants to tease you. His fingers trail along your thighs until he is sliding them through your folds. “Want you to keep quiet and cum on my fingers.” He demands, rubbing your clit with his thick digits.

Your eyes close, head tilting back as you suppress a moan. Burying it deep inside, but you love the way his thick fingers caress your skin. Knowing exactly how to touch you from the second time he had fucked you. It’s wrong, but you don’t care when he pulls orgasms out of you as easily as he does. You are a distraction, a comfort to him when he can do the things to you that he can’t or won’t do to his wife and in return, you get mind blowing pleasure. You bite your lip, holding the edge of the desk to keep from rocking forward to meet his fingers, knowing he wouldn’t like you to try to take control. 

Dave watches your eyelashes flutter as he pushes two thick digits into your tight cunt. You moan softly and he curls them inside of you, twisting his wrist so he can press his thumb to your clit. He loves how you take whatever he gives you. You take it with a moan like a depraved whore. His whore.

He’s going to let you cum. Your next moan is bitten off and you press your lips together to keep quiet. You can’t let anyone passing by hear what he’s doing to you in this office. Leaning back onto his desk even more while he does what he wants with you. “Dave.” you whimper breathlessly. 

He watches you with a smirk, pumping his fingers into your needy pussy and he loves the way you struggle to keep quiet. “You gotta be quiet. Otherwise everyone in the office will know what a slut you are for me. How you take your boss’s cock.”

He loves mocking you. Making fun of how desperate you get for him. Smirking as he stands over you, his fingers buried inside you and looking as if he could be doing anything. You bite your lip harder as he curls his fingers up and presses against that spongy spot deep inside you. 

Dave pumps his fingers a little faster, loving the way your jaw drops and he focuses on that spot that makes your thighs shake. He loves watching you take what he gives you without complaint. Carol would be moaning about how he “isn’t getting the right spot” or “your fingers aren’t thick enough.” You take what he gives you and you fucking love it.

You swear that you are surprised you don’t leave an impression on the desk from where your fingers dig in, you hold it so tight. Hanging on for dear life while he pumps those thick fingers deep into your cunt and makes you feel like the rubber band in your stomach is about to break. “D-Dave.” you gasp out, wanting permission to cum and you are so close now that your thighs are shaking. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Always so good for me. Always so fucking good. Want you to cum for me.” He demands, curling his fingers a little more and you break for him. You bite down on your lip and clench down on his fingers, your head thrown back and he chuckles as you whine quietly.

Dave never immediately pulls his fingers away when you cum, something you are eternally grateful for. Enjoying the trembling aftershocks as he works you through your high and pulls pleasure from you like a skilled surgeon. Fingering you until your walls are done quivering.

He loves the way you slump slightly and he withdraws his fingers from your pussy. “Gonna fuck you now. And you are gonna take what I give you. Take my cock out.” He demands, reaching out to squeeze your tits through your dress.

You whimper, enjoying the rough squeeze and fumble with his belt to pull his hard cock out of his pants. Wrapping your hand around it and pumping it firmly even though it is fully hard from making you cum. Still unable to believe he wants to fuck you.

He bats your hand away after letting go of your tits, and he shuffles closer, pressing the head of his cock to your folds. He pushes into you with a groan and he surges forward to press his lips to your neck when he’s pressing against your cervix.

You whimper, closing your eyes and your hands hold onto his shoulders. Squeezing him tight in your cunt and enjoying the way he groans and twitches inside you. “Fuck.” You gasp quietly, “so good, Dave.”

He grabs your hands, pulling your arms behind your back, and he keeps your wrists together. He arches your back and kisses down your neck, biting on the juncture of your shoulder where it can be hidden by your sensible cardigan. “You always take me so fucking well.” He groans just as the phone rings. “Keep quiet.” He demands, keeping your wrists in his grip and he reaches for the phone, picking it up with his free hand. “York.” He answers and he hears the voice of his wife. “Hey, baby. I wondered what you wanted for dinner tonight.” She coos and Dave continues rocking into you. “The girls said something about meatloaf.” He says nonchalantly as he fucks you a little harder.

You grit your teeth, trying not to make a sound as Dave casually talks to his wife with his cock buried inside you. It’s both thrilling and insulting at the same time, making you wish you had the guts to moan. You curl your hands into fists and bare down on his cock as hard as you can as he fucks you.

Dave chokes at the way you grip his cock inside of you, and he gives you a warning look. “Behave.” He mouths and you smirk, clenching around him again. He shakes his head and continues to discuss dinner with Carol. “Yeah. I won’t be late. Okay, honey. See you later. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” He says and slams the phone down in the cradle, “you’re a naughty girl.” He tuts, gripping your chin in his hand. “Open your mouth.” He demands and you don’t obey him right away. He squeezes your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth, and he leans closer to spit in your mouth.

You moan quietly, loving how filthy he is when he pushes your mouth closed. “Swallow it.” He orders, snapping his hips forward harshly and making you choke as you swallow his spit. His cock is splitting you in two and you can’t help but wonder how he has the fucking stamina to fuck both you and Carol all the time. You know that if his cock is this good she must want it all the time. You do.

He loves the way you submit to him, take what he gives you without complaint. He hisses your name and lets go of your jaw and your wrists to grab your thighs, lifting them higher on his hips so he can sink deeper inside of you. “You are a dirty slut. My dirty slut. Say it. Tell me who you are.” He demands, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Yours.” You whimper instantly. “Your dirty slut, all yours.” You are breathless when he pushes your legs back, your tits jiggling from the force of his thrusts and you can’t even look over your stomach to watch his cock disappearing into your cunt, but you can feel it. “Your slut, only yours.”

He looks down at where you are taking him. You always take him so well. You are tight and wet and you let him do what he wants to you. Carol doesn’t like anything except missionary and he’s a man who gets easily bored. “That’s right. Mine.” He growls, thrusting harder.

You have to slap your hand over your mouth when you squeal, not wanting anyone to hear you. Taking his rough thrusts and loving how his cock shreds up inside you. He always hits perfectly and you feel your body tensing again, close to another orgasm.

He should deny your orgasm but he doesn’t want to. He needs to keep you sweet. He needs you to want him, to need him. He likes being needed. His cock twitches inside of you, and he slides his hand down to rub your clit, wanting to feel you clamp down on his cock.

“Dave….Dave.” Your whimpers are barely audible, but you know he hears them over the slick sounds of his cock pounding into your cunt. “Fuck baby, oh god.” Your eyes close the second your body locks up, convulsing under his as his fingers throw you over the edge. Shaking apart on his desk violently as your orgasm crashes through you.

Your orgasm makes him groan, eyes closing at how tight you squeeze him, soaking his cock enough to make the slick sounds of sex even louder in the small office. “Shit. That’s it. That’s - you’re such a good girl for me.”

You bask in his praise, soaking it up to hold onto when you’re alone tonight and Dave is with his picture perfect family. You shouldn’t be jealous, but you are and his praises help soothe that beast inside you. You whimper again, wanting to feel him cum. To drip him for the rest of the night until you clean up. “Dave.”

He grunts as he pushes into you, his cock pulsing as he gets closer to his climax. “Fuck. So fucking tight.” He hisses as you clench around him again and he pants, nostrils flaring as he thrusts deep. “Shit. I’m gonna cum and you’re gonna take it all. Fill that pussy up.” He hisses as he thrusts deep and throbs, painting your walls with his cum.

You whine in absolute delight at the heat that floods you. It won’t be as much as when you sucked his cock, but it’s enough to ruin your panties if he gives them back. You sigh softly, trying to catch your breath as you watch him ride out his orgasm, jaw clenched and eyes dark.

Dave closes his eyes as he twitches inside of you. Fuck, you are so goddamn good around him. He loves how you take whatever he gives you. He groans as he withdraws from you, his cum pooling at your entrance already and he reaches into his drawer to pull out your panties. "Want you to put these on and keep my cum in you until you go home."

“Yes sir.” You take the panties from him, climbing off the desk and quickly slipping them on. Taking a moment to fix your appearance so you can go back out to your desk and gather your things. It’s time to go home and you know he needs to leave quickly to spend time with his daughters. “Anything else you need, Mr. York?” You ask professionally. “Or may I go home for the evening?”

Dave tucks himself away, buckling his belt. "You can go home for the night. Tomorrow, I want you to wear that red number I bought you." He smirks and walks over to you, gripping your chin before you open the door, "and keep your weekend free. Carol is taking the girls to her mom's house so I want to come to yours and spread you out on that mattress I bought you and keep you there until the sheets are soaked."

Your just fucked cunt clenches and you nod while he still holds your chin. “Yes sir.” You agree breathlessly, knowing he would be rough and making it hard for you to walk by the time he’s through with you. He will walk into your house like he owns it, because he does. He had bought a house and installed you in it, claiming your apartment was a piece of shit and he didn’t want to get robbed when he wanted to come over and fuck you. “All weekend?”

"Alllll weekend." He confirms, "Carol will be gone and I want you to be ready for me. I am going to use that little pussy until you beg me to stop. And you never beg me to stop, do you baby? You are fucking desperate for my cock." He chuckles, caressing your cheek.

Your cheek burns under his hand, knowing that it’s pathetic how badly you crave him. He’s making fun of you again and like the masochist you are, you enjoy it. Knowing that he is somehow addicted to you because of it. “I am.” You agree quietly. “Always want your cock.”

He loves to hear that. Loves the way your lower lip quivers at the admittance and he chuckles, rubbing your lower lip with his thumb. “Prepare your ass for me. That’s what I want first when I come over Friday night.” He demands, knowing you have the toys he bought for you to keep at your house.

Biting your lip, you nod. Distracting yourself from trying to lean in to kiss Dave. He sometimes didn’t want to kiss you and after he pushed you away that first time, you’ve refrained from trying again. Feeling humiliated enough at being reminded that you are just a fuck for him. “Yes sir.” You agree and feel proud when he smiles. “You should go home.” You remind him softly. “The girls will be eager to see you.”

“Carol is waiting. She made meatloaf and I fucking love her meatloaf.” He smirks and lowers his hand from your cheek. “See you tomorrow, sweet cheeks.” He winks and grabs his jacket from his chair, shrugging it on and he grabs his briefcase. “Text me a photo of your cum filled cunt when you get home. Gimme something to think about when Carol wants me to fuck her later.”

Your smile tightens but he doesn’t notice, because you’ve turned your back to head out to your desk. “Yes sir.” You answer, as if there would be any other answer to give him. You don’t deny Dave, ever. Gathering your own coat and purse, you busy yourself with getting ready to leave as he walks out of his office. “Good night.” You murmur, expecting him to just walk past to the elevator.

Dave winks at you as he walks past you and down the hall to the elevator. You gather your things, walking gingerly as his cum slicks your panties, and you manage to catch the elevator just as Dave and a few others from the floor step on. Dave and you end up pushed towards the back and his hand wastes no time finding your ass under your dress. “Big plans for the weekend, York?” One of the guys asks Dave who clicks his tongue, “oh yeah. Gonna be practically orgasmic. Lying in bed all day.” Dave chuckles and the others snort, “yeah. I prefer getting some extra z’s in than sex nowadays.” Dave nods, “same here man.” He squeezes your ass as the bell rings for the ground floor. “See you all tomorrow.” The guys say as they filter out of the elevator and Dave smacks your ass before he steps away from you, not looking back as he heads to his car to go home to his wife and kids.

Walking to your own car, you unlock it and climb behind the wheel, taking your time to get comfortable. You don’t have to rush home, needing to stop by the grocery store for the low fat creamer you like and find something to eat. Scrambled eggs and cottage cheese maybe. Who knows, but you damn sure won’t be eating meatloaf.

Dave is watching television with the girls before they have their baths and he is tapping his fingers on his chair. You still haven’t sent him the photo he asked for. He picks up his phone after Carol disappears into the kitchen to clean up, and he texts you ‘where’s my pussy?’

You’re reading a book when the text comes in and you curse. Completely forgetting all about Dave’s picture. You almost text him back and tell him to ask his wife for one but you peel off your panties and spread your thighs to take a picture for your boss. You hit send and sigh softly, picking up your book again.

Dave’s phone beeps and he unlocks it, smirking at the sight of your creamy cunt. He loves that you still have it inside of you. He doesn’t respond back, Carol asks him to help with the girls so he sets his phone aside and gets him into bed. “They’re asleep.” He announces as he unbuttons his shirt. Carol smirks at him and shrugs off her robe, showing Dave the lacy nightie she’s wearing underneath. He wants to roll his eyes at the way she thinks she is so sexy but he can’t help but think you’d look sexier. With a sigh, he strips off and does his husbandly duty but he cums thinking of you and your creamy cunt, not of the woman beneath him.

Your bed is large, empty. Dave had insisted on a king bed when he bought it for you. Not that you had asked him for one. When you had moved in, you had the full sized bed that would fit in your tiny apartment. Dave had come over to christen the house and complained about what a piece of shit the bed was. The next weekend, another was being delivered. It’s comfortable, and it makes you think of Dave every time you crawl between the sheets. Wondering if he had the same bed at his house. With a sigh, you turn off the light and settle down. You have already set out the red outfit Dave wanted you to wear tomorrow.

****

Dave smirks when he sees you wearing the red dress the next morning when he comes into work but he doesn’t call you into his office. He wants you to squirm in your seat, preparing for the weekend. He likes to keep you on his toes. He calls your name and you enter his office, eyebrows raised in anticipation, “coffee?” He asks, lifting up his empty cup.

“Right away.” You know that he could get his own coffee, that was probably the second cup he’s already had, but you take the mug from his hand. It’s one you had gotten him as a little silly Boss Appreciation Day gift. It says ‘World’s Okayest Boss’. You had enjoyed the spanking he gave you that afternoon. Really enjoyed it.

Dave watches you leave the room and smirks to himself, knowing he’s going to have fun stripping that dress off of your body. When you come back with his coffee, he thanks you without looking up from his computer. He likes to blow hot and cold, keeping you on your toes.

You roll your eyes as you walk back to your desk and sit down. Amused with yourself for expecting him to act differently. He does this all the time, it’s like a little game and you allow him to pull you like a puppeteer pulling the strings. You shake off the interaction and pick up your own coffee to blow on while you start on your own work.

Dave ignores you for the rest of the day, getting his own lunch from the fridge that he brought from home, and he watches you as you answer the phone and sort through his mail. He can't wait to pull you apart this weekend, spend his time on your body until you're begging him to let you cum. When the end of day comes around, Dave groans as he stretches and grabs his briefcase, "I gotta head home and say goodbye to the girls. Be ready for eight." He orders, striding off to the elevator without looking back at you.

You huff slightly, slowly shutting down your own computer and gathering your things. Annoyed at how he’s ignored you and now expects you to jump to his whims. Still, you make your way home and climb into a bath, starting to get ready for him.

Dave waves goodbye to Carol and the kids as they back onto the road and he blows them a kiss as Carol pulls away from the house. He stands there for a few minutes before he heads back into the house to lock it up. It doesn't take long for him to grab his weekend bag and get into his car, making his way to your place for the weekend, a wicked smirk on his face when he pulls up outside of the home he bought you.

You had really debated if you should put the red dress back on after he had ignored you all day. Part of you wanted to change into sweats to spite him, to be comfortable. Still, you are fixing dinner for yourself, wearing the red dress. Unable to not disappoint him, despite yourself.

Dave lets himself into the home using the keypad, setting his bag down and he makes his way into the kitchen to find you cooking and the radio playing. "You being good to yourself?" He asks, wanting to make sure you aren't just having lettuce leaves like you tend to do.

“Hey.” You turn and give him a smile before looking back at the pan on the stove. “You didn’t say if you were eating with the girls, so I did some steaks.” They are resting in the oven while you finish sautéeing the green beans. “Steak and green beans sound good?” You ask. “You said to be prepared for a long night.”

Dave comes over to grab your hips, pressing himself against you. “You’re gonna need all the energy you can get.” He smirks against your neck as he leans in to kiss along your skin. “You’re such a good girl.” He coos, squeezing your ass.

Your mild annoyance at Dave fades when he starts to press against you. Tilting your head as you sautée the green beans so he can have more access to your skin. “Have you eaten?” You manage breathlessly, hoping that he will share a meal with you.

“No. Definitely haven’t had my dessert.” His hand slides around your stomach and up to your breast to squeeze. “You gonna feed me, baby girl? Make sure I got enough energy to fuck you into that mattress I bought you? Make sure you can barely fucking walk on Monday when you come into the office?”

“Yes.” It’s pathetic how you whimper, but his words make your cunt clench. The possessiveness in his tone lets you pretend you are actually his. That this isn’t some kind of game to him. A thrill he gets to have when his wife isn’t around. “I want that.”

Dave chuckles at the pathetic way you whimper and his hand squeezes your breast. “Finish making dinner like a good girl and then I expect you kneeling on your bed in that lacy number I bought you last week.” He murmurs against your cheek.

You hate that lingerie. It shows off how big you are. Your rolls on display and all your cellulite exposed. You had cried when you tried it on and had told Dave that you had been too tired to even open the bag. It feels like it was meant to humiliate you and you don’t want to put it on but you can’t deny him. “Okay.”

Dave grins, “good girl. Now, let’s eat. You’ll need your energy. I am planning to keep you in that bed all fucking weekend. Carol was boring as shit, laying there like a goddamn fish on ice. Need you to show me how good it can be.” He coos, stepping away from you so you can finish cooking.

You should hate how he talks about his wife, how he plays it off like you’re better. But you actually love it. Making you feel like you are giving Dave what he needs, even if you know you’re not. He’s just telling you what you want to hear, to make you feel justified in letting this man completely ruin you for anyone else. You’re completely in love with him and you can’t ever have him. You push that thought away and plate up the steaks and green beans. Bringing it over to the table with the wine already opened, like this is some kind of at home date for the two of you.

Dave groans when he sees the steak, cooked to a perfect medium rare, and he lifts his glass up to you when you are sitting down. “To a perfect weekend.” He toasts and winks when you clink your glass against his. He knows it’s wrong to keep you like this. To make you feel like it’s a relationship but this is his escape. You know him, the dark parts of him that Carol never sees, you don’t judge him for it.

Dinner is eaten quickly, both of you hungry and you preen when Dave groans over the meal you had prepared. Soon enough, you are quickly loading the dishes in the dishwasher and rushing to the bedroom to put on the dreaded lingerie that Dave is so eager to see you in. Even if you don’t like it, the fact that he wants to see you in it makes you strip out of the red dress and put it on, kneeling on the bed just like he had ordered after you had lit some candles and turned the lights down.

Dave takes his time washing up in the guest bathroom. He removes his shoes and socks, unbuttoning his shirt a little and splashing his face with water. He makes his way down the hall and opens your bedroom door, groaning at the sight that greets him. "Fuck. You look - baby girl, this is - Jesus. I fucking love it." He growls, striding over to the bed and he reaches out to grab your stomach, loving how every inch of you is on display.

You don’t wince, but you want to. Hating that he automatically went for the part of you that is least attractive. He seems to not care about the flabbiness, or he acts like he doesn’t care. Maybe he thinks that if he pretends to love your body, you will do whatever he wants. Stupidly correct since you will do what he wants anyway. You lick your lips and wonder what he has planned for you tonight.

He loves your body. A perfect example of softness and femininity in his eyes. You are plush and take everything he gives you. He groans your name and slides his hand up to squeeze your tit through the lace. "Looks so pretty for me."

Dave’s hands are large and they perfectly cup your tits. You enjoy the roughness that is tempered sometimes, but you love when he comes back from missions. Especially if they haven’t gone to plan. He’s feral, harsh, demanding on those nights. Often coming to you to fuck away the stress before he even goes home to his family. Almost always, you have to take off the next day because you are so sore, although it’s Dave sending you home instead of you calling in. “Just for you.” You promise, looking up at him.

He loves that look in your eyes, the one that tells him you’ll give him everything if he requests it. He groans and leans in to kiss along your neck, his hands reaching down to unclasp your bra, wanting to see your tits on display and out of the lace he bought you.

Even if you believe it’s an act on his part, he makes you feel beautiful. His hands worship you in their rough, eager way. You moan when he cups your breasts, pinching the nipples after he drags the straps of the bra down your arms and tosses it aside. The lace panties are barely there, hidden under the rolls of flesh and getting soaked by your arousal. “Dave.” You plea, wanting more, wanting him. Anything he will give you. 

He chuckles, letting go of your breast to grip your chin, “patience. You’re not in charge. Who’s in charge?” He asks with a click of his tongue. “You are, sir.” You say and he hums, “that’s right. I’m in charge.” He leans in to bite your chin before he ducks his head and bites down hard on your nipple. His hands are squeezing your ass to drag you closer to his body.

You whine softly, closing your eyes as the pain and pleasure mingle and you give up any kind of resistance to him. You want him to take what he wants, do what he wants with you. You will let him do anything he wants to you, and he loves that. Your body trembles as his tongue soothes the bite and then he moves over to your other breast, biting just as hard. Another whimpered moan escapes your lips and you pant quietly. 

His hand slides down over your stomach, squeezing the flesh before he snakes his fingers into your panties, the lace giving way to his touch, and he quickly finds your clit to rub slow circles on it.

“Baby…” You moan, cunt clenching around nothing and you love how he just knows exactly how to touch you. He might slap your pussy or spit in your mouth, but the way he touches your clit shows you that he knows what he’s doing with your body. It’s not the careless, fumbling swipes of his fingers like past lovers. He’s methodical and it always tears you to pieces. 

“That’s it. Want you to cum just like this. Get that pussy nice and wet for me. Wanna make you feel good tonight. Tomorrow, I won’t be so kind. Want you to feel good tonight, baby girl.” He murmurs, rubbing your clit a little faster.

Multiple days are rare so you will take everything you can get. It will help when the weekends are lonely and you are bombarded with social media posts with the happy York family in your notifications. “Dave.” You moan, sliding your hands up to cup your tits. “So good. It feels so good\ baby.” 

He leans back to watch you squeeze your tits. “I want to watch you touch yourself.” He reaches for the lace of your panties and rips them like they are paper. “Want you to lay down and show me how you touch my cunt when I’m not here.” He demands, reaching up to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

You moan, shifting to lay down and you spread your legs. Most of the time you use a wand, so you open the bedside drawer but Dave tuts. “Use your fingers.” He orders, making you close the drawer and you slide your fingers down to part your puffy folds and press your index finger to your clit.

He groans as he watches you touch yourself. It’s a sight he never gets tired of. He shrugs off his shirt and lets it drop to the floor, his cock pressing against his zipper and he slowly pulls his belt out of the loops after he unbuckles it.

You bite your lip, wondering if he will spank you with his belt tomorrow. He's only done that once before and you were gingerly sitting down for days, even with the cooling cream he had spread over your generous cheeks. “Not as good as you.” You whine, rubbing your clit faster. “Nothing is as good as you.”

“That’s damn right. Only I can make you squeal.” He smirks and unbuttons his pants but he doesn’t pull his cock out. He watches you with dark eyes, “you’re so sexy.” He murmurs, leaning in closer to watch you touch yourself.

You don’t believe that, but your body responds to the praise. Arching up and spreading your legs wider as your fingers work over your swollen nub of pleasure. “Baby, baby touch me.” You beg quietly.

He tuts, shaking his head. “No. I want you to keep going.” He orders and you whine in protest but he reaches out to smack your thigh, loving the way it jiggles. He doesn’t want you to cum yet. He wants you to work yourself up. “So fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, knowing he needs to tell you that more. You deserve the praise. 

Your eyes slip closed and you start to slowly rock your hips down. Pushing against your fingers and you wish it was Dave. Needing his touch because you can smell him. Dave has a unique scent that you are obsessed with.

He shifts down onto his stomach, his face hovering near your pussy, and he inhales your heady scent as you rub your clit. “Look at me.” He demands, gripping your thighs to push them further apart.

Your eyes instantly pop open, looking down at him between your thighs to see him so close to your cunt. You moan, clenching around nothing again and you wonder if this will be the rare treat of him eating you out.

Dave loves the way you rub your clit and he wants you to feel good. He needs to show you some intimacy every once in a while because it keeps you happy. He can’t be mean to you all the time. He shuffles closer, his dark eyes on you as he bats your hand away and leans in to slide his tongue through your folds, flicking over your clit.

“Dave!” You squeal in surprise, cutting yourself off with a long moan when he drags his tongue through your folds again. “Oh fuck.” You gasp out, ready to do whatever he wants as long as he keeps using his tongue on you. “Fuck.”

He smirks against your folds, loving the way you moan and he laps at you again, determined to make you cum like this. To show you how good he can be. He laps at your clit and his fingers dig into your fleshy thighs, loving the feel of you.

“Fuck Dave.” You whimper his name again, lost in the sensations of his mouth on your cunt. You’ve pleasured him countless times and while he’s always made you cum- except for times he was denying you- you rarely get this kind of treatment. Making you shiver in anticipation of what is to come.

Dave laps at your clit before he slides his tongue down, pushing it into your weeping cunt with a groan. Fuck, you taste so sweet. Always tastes so sweet. He slides his hand up your thigh so he can press his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves while his tongue curls deep inside of you.

Your fingers tangle into the sheets with a low moan, force of habit keeping you quieter than you know he would probably like. You’re home, you can be as loud as you want. Whimpering as he tongue fucks you, your walls soaking his face as you grind against him.

He can’t see your face like this but he wants to hear you. He pulls back for a second, “want to hear you. Moan for me, baby.” He demands before he dives back in to push his tongue deep inside of you.

It’s like you needed his permission, moans spilling out of you in increasing volume. Letting yourself go and making sure he knows how much you love his tongue buried in your cunt. “Fuck! Fuck baby, you’re so good. So fucking good to me.”

He loves to hear how much you love it. He wants you to be addicted to him, to need him. He loves hearing you moan his name, he wants you to want him. His tongue curls deeper, his cheeks pressed against your thighs as he tries to taste more of you, his thumb rubbing your clit a little faster.

“Oh god.” You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as you pull at the bedsheets. “It’s so- it’s too much.” You gasp, so close to the edge. A few more swipes of his thumb and you are crying out, clenching around his tongue as you soak his face.

He hisses as you clamp down on his tongue, loving the way you cry out so beautifully. Carol never reacts like that. She’s so cold and emotionless. Probably why he married her. Less complicated. Yet now he yearns for your noises, your thrashing from pleasure. He fucking loves it.

He works you through it. Continuing to lavish your cunt with attention until you are wrung dry. Almost overstimulated and your thighs try to close around his head, but you don’t dare. The last time you tried to deny him, he had tied you to the bed.

Dave smirks against your thighs as you finish trembling around him. Fuck, he loves the way you take whatever he gives you. You’re gorgeous and he wants you to believe it, even if he controls your life. He wants you to know that you are desirable. He pulls back from your pussy, chuckling at the way you whine slightly and he slaps at your sensitive folds, “hands and knees.” He demands, pulling his cock out of his pants and he doesn’t take them off yet.

You pant as you roll over, pushing to your knees as you face away from him. Eager to have him inside you after such a blissful orgasm. Only Dave has ever fucked you as hard as you need and made you feel like it wasn’t just a pity fuck, or some need to get his rocks off. Your ass wiggles slightly as you get comfortable and you moan when he slaps it.

He shifts to kneel on the bed, his hands squeezing your ass and he works fast to position his cock at your entrance, pushing into you in one quick thrust. He grabs his belt when he’s fully inside of you, wrapping it around your throat.

Your sharp inhale says it all. You’re surprised by the force around your throat. Eyes bulging in your head and it takes you a split second before you stop yourself from reaching for it. Knowing that you are safe with him because if he wants to kill you, there are easier ways. Instead, you moan, clenching around him.

He loves the way you moan. He grips the leather, using it to keep you still as he thrusts into you. His pace is unrelenting as he fucks you hard. His jaw clenched as he grips the belt, tightening around your throat.

You can’t take full breaths, every last drop of air is being fucked out of you when he slams his cock back inside you. Panting as he rides you, fucks you with no mercy and any sounds you make come out as tiny squeals. Holding on as your eyes roll back in your head while he drills into you.

He is practically straddling your ass and thighs as he rams into you. Sweat beading on his forehead and jaw clenched as he thrusts into you. He groans your name and tightens the belt, loving the squeak that escapes your lips.

It’s almost more than you can take but you press against the belt slightly. Wanting to drop your head but you can’t. Clenching around him when it cuts off your air more. “D-Da-ave!” You gasp.

He loves the way you gasp for air, it makes his cock twitch inside of you. He can feel how close you are to cumming and he doesn’t want that. Not yet. He groans and pulls out of you, loosening the belt.

Gasping, you collapse onto your elbow and suck in air greedily. Not even able to speak for a moment as you try to catch your breath and calm down.

He chuckles at the way you slump. “On your back, hands gripping the headboard.” He demands, “gonna make sure you cum but you won’t be getting off easy.” He smirks and you struggle to shift onto your back. “Hands.” He tuts, reminding you.

You push to your hands and flip onto your back, not caring for once that everything moves. You know it’s an unflattering picture, but you don’t care right now, still panting as you reach up and grab the headboard of the bed.

Dave immediately straddles your figure, leaning down to wrap the belt around your wrists, securing you to the headboard. “Such a needy little whore. You’ll let me do anything, won’t you?” He smirks. Lightly slapping your cheek, he chuckles at the way you shine, his hard cock pressing against your belly.

“Yes, yes sir.” You pant out, positively dripping from how sexy you find all this. It’s like every dark romance novel you’ve ever read and it’s even better. “Anything you want. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

He loves hearing you say that. “Such a good fucking girl.” He groans, leaning in to bite down on your nipple as he shuffles down your body. “You’re so sexy. And all mine. It’s all mine.” He growls against your breast, his cock twitching, and he slaps your other breast while he bites down and sucks on your skin.

You whimper and moan, body jerking at the harsh slap, but you love it. Your hands are tied, you are immobile and still you wouldn’t move if you were free. You want his attention, you need it. “Fuck Dave.” You whine. “More.”

Dave shakes his head, shifting further down your body. "You don't get to make demands. Who fucking owns you? Who owns this pussy?" He growls, reaching down to cup your cunt. "Who owns this goddamn house and your entire wardrobe?"

It’s true. Dave has bought most of your work wardrobe, all of your lingerie and underwear. The only thing that he didn’t buy was the comfy clothes you wear when he’s not around you. You don’t know how he manages it without Carol knowing, but you’re sure it’s funded from his offshore account. “You do. You own me.” It would be horrifying if you didn’t want to be owned by him. “I’m yours.”

He loves hearing you say that. His chest puffing and his cock twitching at the way you openly declare that he owns you. “That’s right, baby. You’re mine. My slut.” He growls, slapping your thighs. “Beg me to fuck you.” He demands, slapping your thighs again.

You moan, eyes rolling back at the sharp sting of his hand. “Fuck me please.” You beg breathlessly. “I need your cock inside me. Only you can make me cum like I need.” You praise him, knowing how much he loves the way you are needy for him. “Please fuck me. Please baby.”

He reaches out to grip your chin, “what do you call me?” He growls and you whimper, “sir. Please fuck me sir.” He smirks, “that’s better.” He smacks your cheek and shifts to grip his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and he pushes into you with a hiss at how wet you are.

You cry out, cunt clenching down around him and the sting on your cheek just adds to the sensation. Your hands tug at his belt, wishing you could touch him. “Fuck! Yes, of fuck yes, sir. Fuck me, please sir. I’m yours.”

He loves the way you writhe beneath him, “that’s it, baby. Take me so well. Take every fucking inch.” He pushes impossibly deeper inside of you. “You are gonna take every goddamn inch until I fill you up and then you’re going to keep my cum inside of you because I fucking own this pussy.”

“Yessss.” You moan quietly, squeezing around him again. You love when he’s possessive and makes you keep his cum inside you. You feel like he has a breeding kink that he doesn’t really talk about. You’ve never asked, it’s none of your business and even if he did, he would never want you to have his child.

Dave grunts as he starts to move, his hands squeezing your flesh, sliding his hands up your body to grab your tits. He squeezes the flesh and pinches your nipples, loving the way you moan his name. That breathless sigh and way your eyes roll back has him twitching inside of you.

Dave rocks into you, making your entire body move with each harsh thrust. Making you moan and whine for more as he does what he wants and makes your thighs shake. He fills you up, his cock seemingly the perfect fit for your cunt, or perhaps it was that your cunt has adapted to his cock. Either way, the way he punches against your walls makes you squeal.

He rams into you, his jaw clenched as he fucks you harder. His hands are squeezing your flesh and he wants you to cum for him. He doesn’t want to deny you, he wants you to squeeze him, soak him. He loves hearing you cum. The way you moan his name.

It’s always intense. Building you up quickly from the snap of his hips and his cock shredding up into you. Everything comes together in perfect harmony. You don’t even warn him you’re about to cum. Your back bows and your second orgasm of the night has you screaming his name, his cock hitting perfectly as you soak him as you squirt.

“Jesus Christ. Look at that.” Dave groans, pulling out of you fast so he can watch your juices splash over the sheets. “Such a dirty little whore. Squirting all over my cock. And look at you, you want more, don’t you?” He chuckles, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his soaked cock, jerking himself.

“Yes, fuck yes.” You pant, knowing you would be so embarrassed if he didn’t find it so sexy. “Need more, sir. Need you, so fucking much.” You tug against the restraining belt again, wishing you could touch him. Stroke his cock for him or suck him off. Anything to give him pleasure.

Your moan is needy and he chuckles, continuing to jerk himself off. “So fucking needy for my cock. Maybe I should just jerk off and cum over your tits. Or I’ll cum over your pussy? Won’t let you feel it inside of you. Or your mouth. What do you want?” He coos sadistically, wanting to torture you.

You whimper, knowing that whatever you say, he will do the opposite. He likes to toy with you, twist you around and loves when you beg him. “Whatever you want. I just want you to feel good.” You moan. “Use me. Use me however you want.”

Dave loves it when you beg him to take what he wants. He continues to pump himself before he lets go, pushing back inside of you in one thrust and he grabs your thighs, pushing them back towards your body. He groans at how tight you are like this.

You grunt, your ability to breathe is nearly cut in half when he pushes your legs back. Moaning quietly as he starts to thrust into you again. All you can do is take him. Your cunt quivering every time he fills you up again and trying to hold him there as he pulls out. “Fuck.” You pant.

He’s feral. Taking out every bit of stress he experienced from work and home out on your pussy. He grunts through clenched teeth as he pushes deep into you. “Take it. Take it like the fucking whore you are. Say it. Say you’re my slut.” He growls, fingers digging into your thighs.

You can barely make a sound when his hips slap against the back of your thighs but you try. “Y-y-yooouuuur sl-slut.” You stutter out, curling your hands around the belt tighter as he hammers into you like a jackhammer.

He hisses, his cock twitching inside of you, and he’s close. So fucking close. “Want you to cum again for me.” He demands, fucking into you hard and fast. He wants you to squirt on him again before he feels you up.

You whine, knowing that if he wants it, he will get it. Dave is tenacious like that. Your toes curl as he ramps up his pace and you are just amazed he hasn’t stopped for a break yet. “D-D-Dave!”

He grips your flesh even harder, harsh breaths escaping his lips as he pushes into you over and over again. “Cum for me. Cum.” He demands, “fucking - do it. Now.” He growls, his back starting to ache but he won’t give in.

Daves orders are like the switch your body needs. Shaking, you cry out breathlessly again. Unable to even say anything, just crying out as you shatter again. Feeling the liquid rush and nearly passing out from the pleasure.

Dave fucking loves the way you soak him and the sheets beneath you. He hisses and pushes deep a half dozen more times, his thrusts squelching as he presses the head of his cock against your cervix and lets go. He groans and his cock pulses as he fills you with hot cum, his head dropping to rest his chin on his chest.

He fills you, your eyes slipping closed and you know that it’s perfect. You’re exhausted from the way he fucked you and you know that if he wanted more you would give it to him. You can’t even catch your breath, but you don’t know if you want to. Opening your eyes again to watch him as he rocks his hips slowly while filling you up.

He pants, closing his eyes as he fills you, and he squeezes your thighs until he relaxes, releasing your flesh from his grip. "Fuck." He huffs happily, knowing that only you can make him feel like this.

****

Since that night, Dave has been out of town for several trips and having to focus on a few different cases that have included long hours and work outside the office. That’s a good thing, because if he had been in, he would have noticed something before you did. You stare at the paper, chewing your bottom lip as fresh tears gather and you wonder how the hell you managed to find yourself in this situation, although that should be rather obvious. You’ve been so upset that the last two days you’ve taken off from work. Next week Dave will be out of town, you can have your procedure and he will never even know there’s been a pregnancy.

Dave can tell there's something wrong. You don't respond to his texts as fast as you normally do. You aren't as starry eyed when you look at him when he walks past your desk before he heads out on an op. He is concerned - not that he'd ever admit that. He decides to head home early. The case is wrapped up and Carol thinks he is out of town for two more days. You won't be expecting him but you'll let him inside. He pulls up down from your house, not on the drive, and makes his way to your door, opening it with the key he had made and he steps inside, wondering what's been going on with you.

Coming out of the bathroom, it’s been a bad day. Between crying and getting sick, you feel horrible. Brushing your teeth after you lost the soup you had eaten, you groan quietly as you move to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The appointment is tomorrow and you are nervous and heartbroken at the same time. It’s confusing and your anxiety is just making you more sick. “Fuck.” You huff to yourself, hearing your phone ding in the living room. It’s probably Dave and you don’t want to talk to him right now.

Dave watches you, a frown on his face at the way you scramble for the phone. It’s not him calling you. He hovers in the hallway and sees a piece of paper on the side. Curious, he picks it up. His nostrils flare when he reads the word ‘pregnant’ and he hisses under his breath, shaking his head. He sets it down on the side and strides into the living room where you are on the phone.

“Yes, thank you.” You bite your lip, emotions crowding your voice and you try not to cry. “Two o’clock. And should I expect any cramping after? Or just the bleeding?” You listen and when Dave steps into the living room, you jump and gasp. “Yes? No, uh, sorry, my- my cat scared me. Okay. Okay, thank you.” You quickly end the call and get up from the couch nervously. “Dave. Um, I didn’t expect you.” You bite your lip, knowing you look like shit. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you, eyes narrowed as he takes in the gaunt look on your face, the ragged sweats, your greasy hair. You look sick. He crosses his arms as he looms over you, "were you ever going to tell me?" He demands to know.

You shiver at the dark look in his eyes. He knows. You could lie, deny it, but it would be an insult. He’s a fucking DIA agent and an assassin on top of that. He’s not stupid. Your shoulders round and curl in on your frame. “No.” You admit quietly. “Never.”

“And you were gonna get rid of it?” He asks, his tone flat, face indifferent so you can’t see the emotions rolling inside of him. He can’t believe it. You’re pregnant and you weren’t going to tell him.

You choke out a huff and gesture helplessly. “What else am I supposed to do?” You ask rhetorically. “I can’t have this pregnancy.” You’ve tried very hard not to think of it as a baby. Under different circumstances you would have been thrilled to be pregnant, but this isn’t the case. “Don’t worry, it’ll be done tomorrow and you will never have to think about it again.”

Dave growls, “you were gonna kill my baby and not even fucking tell me?” He strides over to you, grabbing your throat to push you against the sofa, his fingers wrapped around your neck. “I have a fucking right to say what I want.”

For the first time, you are truly scared of Dave. Choking out a cry and grabbing his hand, hoping he doesn’t try to hurt you. “I- no.” You shake your head. “It’s my- you’re married!” You don’t understand why he would be mad, he should be relieved. “I’m just the woman you fuck!”

“You’re not getting rid of it. You’re keeping the baby.” He commands, his fingers still wrapped around your throat and you whimper, “but you’re married. I can’t - we can’t -” He tuts, “I’ll look after you. I promise. I can’t be with you but I’ll make sure you and the baby are looked after.” He promises and you sob, “I can’t do that.” 

Dave scoffs, “you’re going to do it otherwise I’ll kill you.” Your eyes widen at his threat, “I’d rather you kill me. It’s better than being in love with you and not being able to have you.” You spit at him, and he chuckles darkly, “you're a silly little girl if you don't think that I fucking worship the ground you walk on. I'd move in tonight if I could, but l have my girls and I can't abandon them. Can't leave them with their useless cunt of a mother. You're fucking blind if you can't see that I love you too. That you have me.”

You’re so conflicted, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I don’t understand, I thought- I thought you would be mad I was pregnant.” You confess, sobbing harder. “You- you want me to have the baby?” You ask, sure that he would have wanted the complete opposite. “You love me?”

Dave scoffs, letting go of your throat to caress your cheek, "do you really think I don't love you? You silly girl." He shakes his head, "of course I do. When have I ever said something I don't mean?"

You almost flinch but end up leaning into his touch. Sighing softly because it’s true, Dave never says something he doesn’t mean. At least not to you. There’s never been a need to lie when you know all his dirty secrets. “You don’t.” You admit quietly.

“Exactly.” He caresses your cheek again, his dark eyes burning into you. “I won’t lie to you.” He promises, sliding his hand down and he shifts to kneel beside the sofa. His eyes watching you as he shifts to hook his fingers in your leggings, watching you as he pulls them down. “Wanna taste you.” He murmurs, pulling the restrictive material off of you and flinging it across the room before he yanks your panties off. It doesn’t take long for him to dive in, sliding his tongue through your folds.

“Dave!” You cry out, unable to believe that he is eating you out again. You had expected him to lecture you, to yell at you. You whimper, so sensitive since you hadn’t been able to have sex the past few weeks. You hadn’t even masturbated because you had been so sick.

Dave laps at you, sucking your clit into his mouth and his hands push your thighs further apart. You taste different but he likes it. You are sweeter. He growls into your flesh, his hands sliding to your ass, lifting your hips so he can push his tongue inside of you.

“Dave, baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes and your fingers slide down to curl into his hair. You wouldn’t normally do that, but you also had never expected to find out Dave loves you. It shifts the dynamic slightly. “Baby- I love you so much.”

Dave groans into your flesh, not pulling back to say he loves you too. He’s already confessed his feelings and he’s not one to give gushing soliloquies of love. He knows you know how he feels. His tongue pushes deeper and his nose presses against your clit. His hand slides up to your belly, resting there to feel where his child is, to feel your beauty.

His hand on your stomach brings tears to your eyes, finding it soft and sweet. His tongue pushes inside you as he caresses your stomach. It’s sweet and dirty, your nerves sensitive and he doesn’t stop until you are gasping out, close to cumming.

He wants you to cum for him, his tongue sliding up to your clit, lapping at it and your moan makes his cock throb in his pants. You are fucking perfect. Untarnished despite his filthy touch on your flesh, you are an angel. He is the devil that crawled from hell to touch you. He shouldn't be allowed to be near you, his touch ruins everything yet you remain so innocent. He laps at your clit, his free hand shifting until he is pushing two fingers inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Dave.” You whimper his name, his thick fingers giving you the fullness you crave. You want his cock inside you, but you don’t know if you could handle the harsh pace he fucks you at right now. “So good. You’re so good, baby. Fuck, I love those fingers inside me.”

He pumps his fingers, groaning at the way you clench around them. Your pussy is wet, soaking his digits, and he hisses at the way you moan his name again. You’re so good to him. He sucks your clit back into his mouth, wanting you to cum for him.

It doesn’t take long to work you up. Your body has been neglected, from his work schedule and your lack of interest, although when he touches you it sets you on fire. “Dave!” You cry out, lurching up and catching sight of him right before the stars burst behind your eyes and you shake apart on the couch for him.

Dave groans when you clamp down on his fingers, making him moan your name around your clit as you writhe under his touch. He doesn’t do this often but he felt like he needed to do it because you’re carrying his child.

The last time Dave ate you out, it was actually the night that you made your child. You had tracked it back to that weekend that Dave had spent the entire weekend in bed with you. It was a good time. “Dave, baby.” You whimper, starting to feel like it’s too much, but you don’t push his head away.

Dave withdraws his fingers when you start to whine and he shifts to hover over your body. His lips glistening as he watches you with dark eyes. He doesn’t press his body down on yours but he leans in to softly kiss you. He doesn’t kiss you unless it’s to bite you but right now, he wants to be soft.

The kiss takes you by surprise but you lean into it. Wondering why he is being so soft with you right now. Is it because of the pregnancy? Your fingers are still in his hair and they unfurl to slide down to his shoulders. “Do you want to fuck me?” You ask when he pulls back.

Dave shakes his head, “no. Not tonight. You need to sleep. Have you eaten?” Dave asks and you bite your lip, knowing you’ve struggled to keep anything down. “I’ll make you an omelet. Carol could barely keep anything down except eggs when she was pregnant with Alice.” He shifts off of you, grabbing your panties for you to put back on, and he reaches down to adjust his hard cock after he stands.

You stare at him for a moment, shocked that he is denying himself. He's never denied himself unless there was a meeting he needed to be in. And that was only if he was needed in person and couldn’t video call. You slide your panties on when he disappears into the kitchen.

**** 

Carol hums as she watches the floors pass by on the screen. The Tupperware in her hands as she rides to her husband’s office. She hasn’t seen a lot of him lately. He’s been working late nearly every night and she wants to catch up with her husband. She’s missed him. The elevator dings and she steps out, making her way down the hall to Dave’s office. She steps into your desk area, knocking on the door, and your eyes widen when you see her. “Mrs - Mrs York, how are you? Was Dave - was Mr. York expecting you?” You fumble to look at your computer and Carol’a eyes trail down your body to the bump you’re sporting. 

“Are you - are you pregnant or did you get fatter?” She asks bluntly, her lack of concern for your feelings is obvious at the indifferent look on your face.

“I-“ you can’t believe that she just asked that, feeling your cheeks heat up and you hate that you can’t call her a bitch, but that would just cause issues for Dave. “I’m nearly seven months along. Twenty-seven weeks, thanks.” You offer her a tight smile and your hand slides along the bump that houses Dave’s child. 

Dave walks out of his office, hearing you talk to someone and he’s become slightly protective as you have gotten further along in your pregnancy, coming home with you every night before going to his home. He says he wants to make sure you are safe, but he often cooks to make sure you eat since you are still getting sick. “Carol? What are you doing here?” He asks with a frown.

"I brought you lunch since we haven't been spending that much time together." She holds up the tupperware in her hands. Dave stifles the deep sigh that nearly escapes his lips. "Yeah, uh, it's been busy here, hasn't it?" He asks you and you nod in confirmation. 

Carol hums, looking back at you, "seven months? Wow. I didn't even know you had a boyfriend. Dave always says you're painfully single." She smirks slightly, "congratulations to you and your...do you have a boyfriend?" She asks, wondering if he left you when you said you were pregnant. She's never liked you. You're too pretty and even if she was mollified because you're fat, she doesn't like the idea of you being outside Dave's office day in and day out.

It takes extreme discipline not to look over at Dave, but you just shrug slightly. “No.” You tell her without expanding on the question at all. Let her stew. It’s not like she doesn’t have reason to hate you, you are sleeping with her husband and pregnant by him, but she doesn’t know that. She’s just always been a bitch to you. She doesn’t have mythical intuition or some gut feeling. She made snide comments before the relationship between you and Dave went anywhere beyond professional. “Well, I will take my lunch now, since yours is sorted for you.”

Dave nods, watching you go, and he can't say anything to tell you he's sorry for the behavior of his bitch of a wife. He sighs as you stand up and his eyes drop down to your belly, full and round with his child. He swallows harshly and steps back to open his office door, "come on then, darling." He tries to keep the bite out of the nickname.

Carol looks back at you and gives a small smile. “Hopefully you are eating healthy, and not for three.” She lifts a brow. “You don’t need to put on too much more weight.” You don’t say anything, just turning and opening the bottom drawer to pull out your purse.

Dave wants to step between you and his wife but he can't. He tuts as Carol steps into his office and he shuts the door behind her a little too forcefully. "Why the fuck would you speak to her like that?" He growls, "she hasn't done anything to you." 

Carol scoffs as she sets the Tupperware down. "Just taking up too much room. Poor baby. Gonna come out with diabetes." Carol scoffs and Dave snorts, "you had gestational diabetes with Molly." He reminds her but she sits down opposite his desk and shrugs, "well, I lost the weight." 

Dave rolls his eyes before he sits down, "be nice to her. She works hard."

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Carol waves towards the office door, satisfied that she can hear the elevator ding as it opens and you leave. “I’ve missed you, lately.” She pouts. “The girls have missed you.” She knows that whatever might be going on, and she knows something is going on, Dave loves the girls.

“I’ve been busy with work. Paperwork…reports…meetings.” He lists off and watches Carol open the Tupperware. Her cooking is decent, not as good as yours. “I miss the girls.” He says, tapping his fingers on the desk. “I miss you, baby.” She coos, fluttering her eyelashes and Dave bites his lip, wondering how to handle this. He hasn’t slept with Carol since he found out you are pregnant. “I have a meeting soon.” He declares, “can’t be too long for lunch.”

“You’ve been working too hard.” She huffs. “We need to take a weekend away. Maybe go up to the cabin?” She smiles and winks at him. “The girls always sleep like the dead up there so you and I can have some alone time after they go to bed.”

He knows he can’t say no. She’d get suspicious. So he nods, “sure. We can do that.” Carol frowns at his lack of enthusiasm. “Let’s eat.” He says, gesturing to the food she brought, “I don’t have a lot of time.” He reminds her and she huffs, handing him the lunch she brought him.

The food is good, but Dave is wondering where you went to eat. What you are eating. He’s been making sure you’ve been eating well, for the baby and for your easily upset stomach. Carol talks to him about the girls, something that he enjoys and he can’t help but wonder what they would think about having a sibling. Holding the baby when they come. You hadn’t wanted to find out the sex of the baby, wanting it to be a surprise.

Dave kisses Carol goodbye just as you walk into the office, your eyes averting the couple, and Dave smiles at Carol. “See you at home.” He says and she smirks, “don’t be late.” The lunch you just ate swirls in your stomach and you rush to sit down just as Carol leaves. “You doing okay?” Dave asks after she’s gone, “what did you have to eat?”

“I’m fine.” You brush away his concern, upset from Carol’s visit and you know that you have no right to be. You’re not his wife, she is. “I had a chicken wrap.”

Dave tuts, “is that all? That’s not enough, sweetheart.” He says, walking over to you. “How’s the baby? You blocked out your appointment for next week in my calendar?” He asks, leaning over you with concern in his eyes.

You’ve learned not to argue with him about food, he gets snappy when he thinks you are trying to lose weight while carrying his child. “You don’t have to come.” You protest again, even knowing it won’t do any good. He’s been there for all the appointments since he found out. “But yes, to answer your question. I did.”

“Good.” He hums, glancing back towards the open door, he takes a chance to lean down and kiss you softly. “Carol is a bitch. Don’t let her upset you. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He promises and steps back just as Justin from a few doors down walks by. Dave steps back into his office, knowing the days are ticking down and he has to make a plan. He can’t have this double life anymore

Dave doesn’t follow you home tonight. He tracks your phone, you know that, but he still insists that you text him the moment you get inside your house. You don’t even mention that he will know when you get home because he installed a camera system that alerts him to anyone showing up at the doors. As you’ve gotten further along, he’s gotten more protective. If you didn’t cling to the words he had told you months ago, you would think he’s paranoid about you doing something to get rid of the baby. Not that you could now. You love the little bean growing inside you and are looking forward to holding them. You wave to the camera when you unlock your front door, knowing that Dave will see it.

****

Carol cuts the engine to her car, just parked down the street from your house, and she gets out. She had to look up where you live and to her surprise, your home is registered under a corporation. The same one she knows her husband has his name to. She is curious about that. She makes her way to the front door, ringing the doorbell and waiting for you to answer.

Surprised that someone is ringing the doorbell, you wonder if it’s a package. Dave has been buying baby things online and sending them to the house. Your new maternity lounge clothes are comfortable and cute, highlighting your baby bump, so you don’t feel the need to change before you open the door. “Mrs. York!” Your eyes widen in surprise and you look behind her to see if Dave is with her. Why is she here? “May I help you?”

Carol pushes into the house, uncaring of your condition as she bumps into you. “I just wanted to see the place for myself. I mean…if my husband is the one paying for it, I should see what it’s like, right?” She scoffs, turning to face you.

Dread curls in your stomach, but you manage not to react. That’s what she’s here for, a reaction. “I don’t know what you mean.” You move towards your phone, even though the cameras are picking up everything in the house. “I’d like you to leave.”

Carol offers you a cocky smirk, “I don’t think so. Especially not when you’re carrying my husband’s baby. Have you always been a fat whore or did you just become that for my husband?” She asks, the grin still on her face. “Or are you just a gold digging cunt? Offering my husband a wet pussy to get a meal ticket? Too late honey, I already secured that bag.”

You swallow slightly, unable to figure out what she is planning. “I’m not-“ you shake your head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” You repeat and put your hand protectively over your stomach. “I just want to live with my baby, alone.” You don’t want her to think that you are trying to take Dave away. You know where you’ve stood from the beginning.

Carol scoffs, “alone? As if. I see the way you look at my husband. All heart eyes. Waiting for the moment he decides to give you some attention. You can’t get a lot of it so you decided to move in on another woman’s husband. Pathetic.” She spits, “and got knocked up. Probably on purpose. I don’t know why Dave fucked you when he has me. Probably sympathy.”

“I admire your husband.” You clarify. “He’s not fucking me.” It’s a lie, but you can’t let her know that Dave is having an affair with you. “My baby is from a previous relationship. I work for your husband.” You pick up your phone and point towards the door. “Please leave, I won’t mention this to him.”

Carol doesn’t believe you. She saw the way Dave looked at you when she went to his office. She’s suspicious about why he has been so late coming home. She narrows her eyes and doesn’t realize that Dave is watching on the cameras, cursing his wife for going to the house. He grabs his keys and gets in his car, making his way over to your place with his phone still displaying the cameras. “You are a liar as well as a slut. Trying to steal my husband from me.” She hisses, tears stinging in her eyes.

“Honestly? I just want to have my baby and live my life.” You tell her quietly. “I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but I’ve never tried to come between you and your husband.” You’ve never asked Dave for anything, not even now. You know that he’s not leaving his wife for you, even if he loves you. Even if you’re having his child. “Go home to your husband, Carol. This isn’t what you think it is.”

Carol doesn’t know what possesses her as she surges forward, a feral cry escapes her lips as she reaches out to wrap her hands around your neck just as the front door opens and Dave rushes in. “Carol! What the fuck?” He growls, reaching for her waist to drag her away from you.

You push her away as Dave drags her off of you, gasping for air and shaking as you realize this woman just attacked you. “You bitch! I’m gonna kill you! You and that fucking bastard in your fat stomach!” Carol screams as she tries to get away from her husband to launch herself at you again

Dave restrains her easily, pulling her back against him and saying her name. “Calm the fuck down!” He shouts at her as she struggles in his arms, “you fucker. You got her pregnant. I can’t - why- why would you do this?” Carol chokes, slumping back against him.

“I’m telling you, it’s not his baby!” You shout, not caring if Dave likes it or not. “He helped me get away from an abusive boyfriend.” You lie. “Putting me in this house so he couldn’t find me.” You know Dave doesn’t want to leave his family and you will protect him if you can.

Dave shakes his head, spinning Carol in his arms. “It’s my baby. I’ve been sleeping with her for months. It’s my house. I pay for her livelihood. Because - because I love her.” He confesses and Carol’s jaw drops. “You- you love her?” She chokes and Dave nods. His wife knows he doesn’t say that stuff casually. “I don’t - why?” Carol asks and Dave tuts, “you know why, Carol. You and the trainer. Like I don’t know. You’ve been cheating on me for years. I let it slide because of the girls, but I don’t love you. You don’t love me. I didn’t want to leave the girls.” He admits, “let’s be real here, you felt a change.”

“Dave…” you bite your lip, not wanting to get in the middle of their confessions but you didn’t want him to do that. You had been willing to let her believe it wasn’t Dave’s baby. Why would he ruin that? Your hand slides down to the baby bump, feeling them kick against your hand.

Carol’s lower lip quivers. She knows she can’t contain her husband. Never has been able to. He could make her disappear if he wanted to. “I- I didn’t - I did what I thought was best for the girls. I love Caleb. I didn’t - I’m sorry.” She chokes, tears stinging in her eyes. 

“Then let’s not drag this out any longer. It’s over, Carol.” He declares and she nods, knowing she can’t stay married to him when you’re having his baby. It’s over.

You press your lips together, watching her pull away from him and look towards you. “Guess you get what you want after all.” She scoffs, but it’s not nearly as hateful as it once had been. 

“I had no intention of taking him away from you and the girls.” You promise quietly, although it doesn’t matter now.

“Go home, Carol. The girls are with Sally next door. Go home and I’ll talk to you later so we can get the ball rolling for our divorce.” Dave declares and Carol nods, defeated. “Okay.” She looks back at you, “just don’t - don’t let this be for nothing.” She pleads, knowing her husband never truly loved her. Only married her because she got pregnant.

You swallow and nod, not saying anything right now. It would almost be disrespectful. You watch as she turns and quietly walks to the door, exiting much softer than she had ever entered. You can’t help but just stare at the door as it clicks closed and you exhale slowly.

Dave sighs, hands on his hips as he turns towards you. He stares at you for a moment before he steps closer, his hands reaching for you. “Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you?” He asks, eyebrows raised in concern

“No.” You shake your head and let him pull you close. “She didn’t hurt me. Dave- why didn’t you let me pretend it wasn’t your baby?” You ask. “The girls….you didn’t want to leave them.”

Dave sighs, resting his head on yours, “I didn’t have a choice. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t want to be here with you every night in your bed. I couldn’t lie. We made this baby.” His hand slides down to your belly, “I couldn’t lie about that. I love you. Carol and I- it was over a long time ago.”

You sigh and cover his hand with yours. “I didn’t want to come between you and your family.” You repeat softly, wanting him to understand that. “But I wanted you in bed beside me too. I love you.”

He kisses you softly, breathing you in. "I gotta go deal with Carol later but I promise you, after I deal with her, I am here to stay." Dave vows, "I wanted to give you something." He murmurs, reaching into his pocket after letting go of you. He pulls out a small velvet box. "Dave." You gasp, "what is that?" He opens it to display a beautiful ring. "It's a promise. I can't give you everything right now, but I promise you I will. When I can."

You lean in and kiss him, amazed that the once hard and rough man who fucked you ruthlessly is promising you the world. You have no doubt that he will still fuck you until you are weak once you’ve recovered from the baby, but for now, he is tender and more importantly, he loves you. “I’m yours, baby.” You whisper against his lips. “Forever.”

****

"Alice! Slow down!" Dave calls out to his daughter as she rushes past him chasing Molly. His son is in his arms, a whimper escaping the baby's lips and Dave smiles, cooing to the little boy. "Baby, you ready to go?" Dave asks, knowing you are nervous to leave the kids alone but Carol is taking the girls for the weekend and the baby is going to your mom's for the evening so Dave can take you out for dinner.

“Just a second!” You know that Dave is eager to leave, but you take another second to readjust your dress. It’s the red one that you had worn before you got pregnant. Maybe a little tighter than before, but you wanted to look good for him. Biting your lips before you apply the same shade lipstick. It’s just dinner, but it’s the first time you’ve gone out since having the baby. Since Dave’s officially moved in and the divorce has been final. It was amazing how quickly they got things settled and now, he lives with you and your son. Blotting your lips with a sliver of toilet paper, you rush out of the bathroom and out into the living room. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Dave's eyes widen at the sight of you. "You look fucking amazing." He says quietly as he walks over to you, not saying it too loud for the girls. "I can't wait to take it off of you later." He murmurs, his dark eyes trailing over your figure and he leans in to kiss you, mindful of the baby between you. Your mom knew about you being pregnant but you kept it secret that it was Dave's until the divorce was final. Your mom wasn't pleased about you sleeping with a married man but her distaste of him is outweighed by her love for her grandson. "Girls, we gotta get in the car. Grab your backpacks!" Dave calls out before he turns back to you, "his diaper bag is ready and he's been fed."

“You are amazing.” Dave has been the best kind of hands on father. He’s done diaper changes, sleepless nights, midnight feedings, all without a single breath or complaint. He was born to be a father, you are utterly convinced of that. Kissing his lips lightly, you giggle and reach up to wipe the smudge of red off. “Want me to put him in his car seat?” You ask.

Dave nods, "you take him. I'll get the girls." He winks and strides off to wrangle his daughters. "Come on ladies, gotta go. Your mom is waiting for you." He orders and they grab their backpacks and head into the garage. Dave straps them into their booster seats and blows a raspberry on Alice's cheek, making her giggle. He checks the baby seat and turns to look at you as you carry his son into the garage.

“He’s about ready to fall asleep.” You smile as you hand him the car seat to latch into the base. Watching as Dave carefully locks him into the SUV he insisted you be upgraded to, saying that it was only fair when it would be the car you used when having the girls. You hadn’t argued, but thought him getting a Mercedes was a little much.

Dave opens the door for you, closing it after you're settled, and he rounds the car to get in. He starts the engine and looks in the mirror at his children. With a smile, he sets off to drop the kids off. Carol is cool but cordial as the girls arrive at her house and it doesn't take long to drive to your mom's house to drop off the baby. "I know you hate leaving him but he will be fine." Dave reaches for your hand, squeezing it.

“I know.” You are so very grateful that Dave has been so understanding about your first time mother’s nerves. “Mom loves him to pieces and it will be good to have a meal where I’m not covered in formula or spit up.” You laugh. “I love him so much.”

Dave chuckles, "they grow up so fast. Enjoy the spit up...believe it or not, you'll miss it." He promises and you snort, "we will see." Dave waits in the car while you drop the baby off, watching your mom glare at him slightly but her face softens when she sees the baby and that's all that matters to him. When you get back in the car, he begins the journey to the restaurant he booked. "He didn't even blink when I left." You huff playfully and Dave chuckles, "that's not a bad thing." He squeezes your hand again and when he pulls up outside of the restaurant, he gets out and rounds the car, opening the door for you before the valet can.

You smile as Dave helps you out of the car, finding it amazing for your self esteem for him to so proudly claim you as his. He doesn’t mind that people know in the office, he holds you close in stores. He’s not ashamed of your size. “Thank you, baby.” You coo softly, giving him a flirty smile. You have been cleared for sex again, although you and Dave haven’t yet. You hope that’s why he wanted to bring you out to dinner.

He thanks the valet and escorts you inside, giving his name for the reservation and soon enough, you're seated at the table. He orders a bottle of champagne and your eyebrows raise, "well, you stopped breastfeeding so figured you could celebrate with something nice." He says, "and tonight is about us."

“It is?” You pick up your water and take a sip as you wait on the champagne. “What do you have in mind for us?” You know that Dave has been happy, at least you think he is. He’s been smiling and the girls actually enjoy coming over. They are obsessed with their little brother, and you couldn’t be happier about that.

The champagne is poured, you order your food, and Dave has a soft smile on his face as he watches you. "You look gorgeous tonight, baby." He murmurs, reaching for your hand.

“I’m just happy I fit into the dress.” You admit with a small shrug. Carol’s words had hurt, just like anytime someone had degraded you because of your weight, but Dave told you that you are beautiful so many times, you might actually believe it. “You do make big babies.”

Dave chuckles, "maybe the next one won’t be big." He hasn't made it a secret that he wants another baby with you. He loves seeing you pregnant. You smirk, "give me a chance to recover, baby." He nods, knowing it won't be too soon. "We got time, sweetheart." He promises and shifts to get out of his chair. "That's why I brought you here tonight. I wanted to ask you something." He kneels down, a small box in his hand. "You are incredible. A kind, gorgeous woman that somehow loves me. You are the most incredible mother, partner, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and protecting our family. Will you marry me?" He asks, opening the box.

You swallow, looking from the ring to his eyes. “Dave….” You whisper, not really expecting him to propose, even though he had promised you the world. “Of course I will marry you.” You agree quickly, starting to cry from happiness.

He grins, surging forward to press his lips to yours. You respond eagerly and diners around you applaud while Dave pulls back to get the ring, sliding it onto your finger. He kisses the back of your hand before he kisses you again, "I love you."

“I love you too.” You promise, unable to believe that you are engaged to marry this man. He’s got a dark side, of course he does, but he’s also sweet and generous and loving. “The ring is beautiful.”

Dave is happy that you love the ring. He kisses you once more before you sit back down. The waiter comes over with dessert and a “congratulations" and Dave can't stop smiling as you dig into the dessert with him.

It’s probably a normal thing to be hyper aware of the ring on your finger. You catch a glance of it every time you take a sip of champagne. “God, this is perfect.” You moan as you take another bite of the chocolatey dessert. “Orgasmic.”

He smirks, “took the word right out of my mouth.” He watches you admire the ring, and he is glad you love it. You finish the dessert and he pays the bill, eagerly to get you home. You look delicious in that dress. He loves it. He can’t wait to get you out of it. “I am gonna go to the bathroom before we leave.” You declare, eager to get Dave home too and he nods as you get up to go to the bathroom. The waiter congratulates him again and Dave thanks him, standing up after a few moments. You’re washing your hands when the door opens and Dave clicks the lock. “Dave?” You gasp and he steps over to stand behind you. “Sweetheart.” He murmurs, kissing your neck.

You can’t help but tilt your head to the side so he can do whatever he wants. Just because you haven’t been able to have sex hasn’t meant you didn’t want to. There have been a couple of times you’ve blown him since the baby has been born. He’s rubbed your clit until you’ve cum, but the sexual touches have been limited. You know what his intentions are. His lips are curved into a smirk as he kisses your skin and his already hard cock is pressed against your ass. “Dave.” You whimper, reaching back to squeeze his hard length and your cunt clenches when he twitches in your hand. “We shouldn’t.” You protest mildly, knowing you will let him do whatever he wants to you, just like he always has. 

“We should.” He declares, kissing along your neck while his hands reach down to squeeze your tits through your dress. “We can’t be long. I’m gonna fuck you here and then spend all night eating that gorgeous pussy out.” He promises, “my fiancée. Gonna make you feel good.” He vows, his hands sliding lower so he can drag your dress up your hips. “Tell me no.” He pleads, kissing your shoulder, wanting you to be comfortable. Such a difference from the man who took what he wanted from you before.

Your answer is to push your ass back against his cock, grinding it against him to hear him moan quietly. You know that he’s been eager to touch you, and you honestly want him too. His sparkly new ring on your finger, it’s the perfect way to cap off the night. “Fuck me, baby.”

Dave groans, shoving your dress up higher and his fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You got an IUD placed after having the baby so he knows it's safe to cum inside of you again. Your panties drop to your ankles and he steps back so he can unbuckle his belt and pull his throbbing cock out.

You watch in the mirror, groaning when you see him pump his cock. Your desire hasn’t diminished, at all, only heightening as he sleeps beside you every night. “Fuck.” You whimper, knowing the pinch of him filling you again will be amazing. “Hurry baby, we don’t want to be caught.”

Dave groans as he slides the head of his cock through your folds, loving how wet you are. He pushes into you slowly, not wanting to hurt you, and he rests his head on your shoulder, trying to keep it slow since you’re still recovering.

It’s a lot, you’re panting from the way that he fills you. Your fingers curl around the sink edge and you moan quietly. “Fuck, baby. You’re so thick inside me.” You praise him softly. “Missed this so much.”

He groans when your walls flutter around his cock. His hands slide up to cup your tits, squeezing them through your dress and your bra. "Shit. You feel - you're my little slut again. Aren't you? All mine. Only mine." He growls softly into your neck, biting down a little on the skin as the wave of possession surges through him.

You moan quietly, nodding your head quickly. “Only yours.” You promise, panting as you clench down around him again. “Your slut. Only yours, baby.”

He loves hearing it. Knowing it’s his baby, his ring on your finger. His cock inside of you. He groans your name and pushes into you, a little harder, “fuck. You feel so good. I’ve missed those.”

You whimper quietly, having felt the same. You’ve missed the physicality of being joined with him. He manages to smooth your insecurities and your doubts with his lusty, rough manner. Though he’s being more gentle than he was even the last time you had sex before the baby was born. “Love you.” You gasp, pushing your hips back. “Use me.”

He grunts, knowing that you wouldn’t say it unless you meant it. He grabs your waist, pushing into you again and again, your hips and belly hitting the counter. “Fuck. Feel so good, baby. Don’t have much time. What do you need?” He growls, his hand sliding up to squeeze your tit.

“Choke me.” You beg quietly. He wouldn’t put his hand on your throat while you were pregnant, not even once. You’ve missed when he controls your breathing and your cunt quivers around him at the mere idea.

He nods, sliding his hand higher until he’s gripping your throat. “That’s it baby.” He groans when he feels you clench around him. He loves it. He loves how filthy you are. He thrusts into you a little harder, pushing deep.

You gasp out a little sound before you bite your lip, knowing you have to keep quiet. Holding onto the sink while your fiancé squeezes your neck and starts fucking into you at a quick pace.

He clenches his jaw, squeezing your neck a little tighter. He wants you to cum. He wants you to fall apart around him so he can watch you in the mirror. Cock twitching inside of you, he is close himself and he wants you to cum first.

It’s been so long, the flex of his hand around your neck makes you come apart. Cry catching in your throat, you make a strangled sound as you soak his cock, shaking as he rocks into you.

He groans at the way you clamp down on his cock, soaking him, and he hisses through his teeth when you grip him in a vice. He struggles to continue fucking into you, his grip loosening around your neck but his jaw clenches as he pushes into you a half dozen times until he thrusts deep and pulses as he cums inside of you, painting your walls.

You shiver in delight, enjoying the heat from his cum filling you. “Fuck, Dave.” You whisper quietly, closing your eyes and leaning back against his broad frame.

He turns your head to kiss you, caressing your cheek, and he starts to soften inside you. “Too good. Missed this.” He murmurs, caressing your side. “Shall we go home?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you and reaching for the napkins.

“Yes.” You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. “Pick up the baby, put him to bed and then I want to suck my fiancé’s cock.”

Dave groans, loving how eager you are. He leans in to kiss you, his hands finding your ass and he only pulls back because the door rattles. “Come on baby, let’s go get our boy and go home. After we are married, we will work on the next baby.” He smirks, smacking your ass after he pulls your panties up. He might be a killer but he’s found the woman who knows him, all of him, and he won’t let you go. He’d kill to protect what is his. No matter what it takes. You’re the woman he needs. 

[hannahbarberra162]

Sir Crocodile and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

18+ MDNI

As picked by readers! Ace nonnies, I see you. I'll write the childhood friend reader x Ace story too.

On Ao3 in French

One shot, Reader x Sir Crocodile, fluffy

Word count: ~6k

Synopsis: Crocodile dreads the one day a year you take off of work, your birthday. As his incredible personal assistant, he depends on you for almost everything. Like every year, a day without you is a complete disaster. But maybe there is something he can salvage from the wreckage. Something - or someone - he's wanted for a very long time.

Sir Crocodile tapped the flat of his hook against the date circled on his desk calendar. Tomorrow was his absolute least favorite day of the entire year. You took off only one day annually, your birthday. Sure, you nominally had weekends off as well. But something always came up and you spent at least half a day dealing with his business or personal matters every weekend.

He didn’t begrudge you having your birthday to yourself - you were incredibly diligent and deserved it. But without you around, everything seemed to fall to shambles within minutes. You were by far the best personal assistant he’d ever had. Maybe even the best employee he’d ever had, even among his cohort of Devil Fruit powered henchmen who killed for him indiscriminately. Of course, he knew that if he called you on your baby den den mushi, you’d answer and do whatever he needed. But he would feel guilty for disturbing you . And guilt was an emotion Crocodile had only felt once and never wanted to again. No, he’d make due without you tomorrow and let you enjoy your day off. 

Though he was not kind to - or even close to - his Baroque Works crew, Crocodile was considered a top tier employer in Rainbase Lake. Once he found someone who was good at their profession, he tried his best to keep them in his employ. He treated his personal staff with respect, paid very well, and had set guidelines for employees to follow. Henchmen could be replaced, bloodthirsty pirates were a dime a dozen. Reliable and high quality housekeepers, chefs, and assistants? Priceless. 

And you were the most reliable, most organized, most level headed, most meticulous, and most industrious employee he’d ever had. At first, he suspected you of being a devil fruit user. That would explain how you managed to get everything done correctly, on time, and make it seem easy. However, he quickly realized that you were just that good . But you weren’t single mindedly following his orders all the time, like some of his stooges. You didn’t wait for him to tell you things he needed or tasks he wanted done, you thought for yourself and anticipated his needs. You weren’t a yes man, you would voice your opinion if he asked for it. He valued your insight and operations driven mind. In fact, during the years you’d been working for Crocodile, you’d only ever argued once. And it wasn’t even an argument, really. Crocodile had started growing a mustache, he thought it added some regality to his face. You hated it and told him that it didn’t suit his features. You were right, of course. He’d allowed you to shave it off yourself, much to your delight.

Even without it being your day off, Crocodile always remembered your birthday. Yours was the only one, besides his own, that he had ever bothered to recall. He had many lovers who assumed the thoughtful and romantic gifts they received on their birthdays, anniversaries, and “just because” came from him. But the truth was that all his lovers were in a relationship with you. You remembered all the small details and arranged everything to his lover’s tastes. Crocodile didn’t even try to remember their names, calling them all “Doll” to save himself the hassle. He even thought of them that way - interchangeable, easily replaced, silly but ultimately worthless playthings. But you could tell him their favorite flowers, preferred gemstones, clothing style, shoe size, and any other tidbit of information he’d ever want. You had sent hundreds of gifts on his behalf and had never gotten anything wrong. As a result, Crocodile had a reputation for being a true romantic, someone who listened when his paramours told him personal details. He couldn’t care less. 

He stopped over at your desk as you finished out your day, bringing a small gift bag with him hanging off his hook. 

“Happy birthday,” he said in his low tone, handing you the present.

“What a pleasant surprise, Sir,” you said, removing it and opening it immediately. It was a potted white rhino agave succulent that he had bought without your assistance. It was expensive and rare, but you were worth every penny he ever spent on you.

“Oh, how thoughtful! Thank you so much, Sir!” You beamed at him. To some, it would have looked like a poor gift, but Crocodile knew you well. You didn’t care for cut flowers or most trinkets. You were passionate about cacti and succulents, spending some of your time away from him caring for the plants. You had an impressive collection, one that Crocodile added to as the occasion arose. You got up from behind your desk, walked around to him, and stood on your tiptoes. Crocodile brought himself down to your height and you kissed his cheek in gratitude. 

“What a wonderful send off, Sir. I will see you the day after tomorrow. Please, if there is an emergency, do not hesitate to call.” Crocodile smiled at you and leaned against your desk. Crocodile knew you meant nothing untoward by the kiss, it was platonic affection. But he enjoyed the feeling nonetheless. He looked forward to it annually.

“Enjoy your day off.” He wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“Thank you, Sir.” With that, you carefully carried your plant and left the office. Crocodile watched you leave then scowled once you’d left. It would be a long 24 hours without you.

~~~

The next morning began poorly right from the start. Crocodile awoke late, his alarm clock hadn’t gone off. He blasted it with sand, destroying it completely. He was annoyed already. Normally you woke him gently before his alarm clock did, but you weren’t here today. He found waking to your soft voice and calm face a soothing way to start his day. Crocodile rose from his bed and went to his clothes valet, only to find it empty. He wanted to destroy that as well, but he decided he shouldn’t demolish everything that irritated him today. He’d have nothing left and besides, it would be more work for you to replace everything. You usually hung his clothes for him after pressing them yourself, and he rarely saw the need to adjust your choices. You knew what he liked and how he liked to present himself down to the cufflinks on his shirt sleeves. Crocodile stalked to his large walk in closet and looked through the well organized racks of clothing. It had been one year since he’d had to do this himself and he hadn’t missed the chore. 

He selected an outfit and looked at himself in the mirror. The outfit lacked a certain elegance that you were able to assemble effortlessly. He adjusted his hook - it looked dull. You always polished it for him until it gleamed.  It would have to do, he was already late for a meeting he had called. He left his bedroom for the dining room, looking for his cafe corto. There was a carafe of drip coffee waiting on the table, but no espresso. There was also an impressive tray of sweet pastries. You knew Crocodile wanted a cafe corto first, then drip coffee, cigar, no food. Was it so hard to replicate everything you did for just one day? Could no amount of staff compete with one small woman? Crocodile rang for a servant and asked for the espresso. He was brought an Americano. He sighed and rubbed his temples with his hand. 

The day went downhill from there. You had prepared for your absence during the day, leaving notes and organizing what you could anticipate. Crocodile had another staff member on the den den, fielding calls you’d normally take. But even with your absent help, it was a complete disaster. Crocodile was used to you taking notes for him during meetings, he had forgotten to bring a pen and paper to the board room. By the end of the meeting, he’d forgotten half of the numbers from the quarterly presentation. Everything seemed to need your touch, your help, your forethought to run smoothly. 

Things went from bad to worse. Meetings went off topic, reports had incorrect data, enemies were left untortured, and he’d forgotten to feed the bananawanis on time. Word spread quickly that Crocodile was in a bad mood. Everyone knew the reason why, but no one dared to breathe a word about it. Despite his earlier wishful thinking, the boardroom table now had several hook sized holes in it and his office was covered in sand. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep pull on his cigar. You would have already had everything arranged to soothe his anger.

It wasn’t even all the small matters during the business day that you arranged. You were adept at anticipating his needs before he even realized he wanted something, and arranging his life to one befitting someone of his station. You understood him better than perhaps anyone else. Yes, Miss All Sunday managed Rain Dinners, but you managed Crocodile. 

He sat and recalled one of the times when he’d called you in the middle of the night. He did try not to disturb your rest, but sometimes it needed to be done. One such occasion was when he’d invited Dracule Mihawk to his residence. They had been talking - and drinking - late into the night. In the early hours of the morning he rang you to ask for some food to accompany their wine. 

“Hello Sir, how may I assist you?” your voice had been sleepy, he saw his snail answering bleary eyed but still with a smile.

“I apologize for the late night call. I’d like some refreshments.”

“Of course sir,” the snail looked over at something. “It is now 2:50 AM. I had your favored refreshments scheduled to be delivered at 3:00 AM. Would you prefer to wait ten minutes or would you rather I bring you something immediately?” You weren’t being facetious, Crocodile knew if he asked, you’d have food for him by 2:59 come hell or highwater. 

“3:00 is fine, thank you.”

“I hope you can forgive my impertinence, Sir - I also included some refreshments that may be more to your guest’s liking.” Mihawk raised a single eyebrow. 

“Very thoughtful. Good night.”

“Good night, Sir.”

And sure enough, at 3:00 AM on the dot, a tray of Crocodile’s favorite foods to pair with heavy drinking were delivered by a tired looking waiter. Crocodile served himself some fresh dumplings and offered the tray to Mihawk. Mihawk declined, as he was sampling the gambas al ajillo and jamon.

“Quite the assistant you have,” Mihawk said, a glimmer of intrigue ghosting over his face. “The dishes are excellent, send her my thanks.” Mihawk inclined his head to Crocodile. Crocodile smirked, you had made him proud. 

Breaking his walk down memory lane, he heard the den den mushi ring for what felt like the millionth time that day. Miss Merry Christmas picked up the receiver. He could hear half of the conversation.

“Hello? No, she’s not in today, it’s her birthday. I don’t think you’ll want to - are you sure - let me see,” Miss Merry Christmas looked at Crocodile in his office and yelled through the open door “it’s Doflamingo, do you want to take it?”

Crocodile wanted to kill her on the spot. His sand was already swirling behind him. She had told Doflamingo of all people that it was your birthday. After Crocodile had started taking you to Warlord meetings, the flashy fool had been trying to get you to move to Dressrosa and work for him. Crocodile wasn’t worried about you leaving him for another employer. The thought just sat heavily in his mind and caused him immense anger when he imagined you spending time with Doflamingo. But that wasn’t the same as jealousy. Crocodile would never be jealous over an employee. Even one as smart and lucious as yourself.

Furthermore, Miss About To Be Impaled had asked if he wanted to take the call. Now Doffy knew he was there and had to take the call or else risk a tantrum from the spoiled King. He stalked over to the snail, who was looking quite smug.

“What.”

“So it’s her birthday today, mmh? I’ll have to send something nice, maybe some lingerie…would you like some as well? Fufufufufufufu.” Crocodile hoped Vegapunk would soon invent a way to kill someone through a den den mushi. He’d deal with Doflamingo later, he was in no mood for the Dressrosa King’s idiotic love quests. He hung up softly, gently patting the snail on the back with his flesh hand. The snail survived because he’d killed one once in anger after such a call and it had upset you. Crocodile didn’t like when you were upset. You’d even cried over the snail and Crocodile had felt guilty. He had liked that even less. 

He needed a drink.

~~~

Crocodile left his office for the restaurant portion of Rain Dinners. He had a splitting headache and nearly called out your name to ask for your assistance. Every year your birthday made him realize how heavily he depended on you, so every year he increased your salary the following day. He made a mental note to do the same again tomorrow. 

Crocodile sat in his favorite booth, smoked his cigar, and drank his whiskey neat. The bartenders here were competent and didn’t need to be told what he wanted to drink. He was thinking over some of the reports brought to him by his minions when he spotted you, alone, drinking a glass of wine at the bar. Crocodile was surprised - drinking alone, on your big day? Crocodile knew you had a romantic relationship that predated your employment to him. Crocodile had never liked your partner, but you seemed happy enough. He didn’t understand why someone of your caliber, of your intelligence and beauty was with such a loser, but for your sake he hadn’t killed him. 

Crocodile gathered himself and headed straight to you at the bar. The crowd parted for him easily, with many trying to capture his attention. Some of his Dolls tried to touch his arm or talk to him but he didn’t even spare them a glance. Coming up to your side, you looked up at him and smiled weakly. 

“Good evening, Sir.” You looked absolutely ravishing, just as gorgeous as the day he met you. Normally you wore simple but well tailored clothing to work. It hadn’t stopped his imagination from running wild when you wore your pencil skirts or your slightly lower cut tops. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d wanted to free your hair from its style and run his fingers through it. Or the times he’d wanted to rip through your skirt and pound into you when you leaned over his desk. He’d entertained the thought of seducing you many times, but ultimately he respected you too much to do so. He didn’t want to interfere if you were already in a relationship, as pathetic as your choice was. Besides, he didn’t know what he would do without you if his interest was unreciprocated and you left. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility.

Today you were more dressed up fancier than usual, your striking figure in an elegant black dress that bared your back provocatively. He stifled his impulse to run his hook down your spine to see if it made you shiver. Pulling his thoughts back to you, he noticed your eyes were slightly red and puffy. He put his large hand on your shoulder.

“What happened to that… person …you usually spend time with?” He couldn’t call that boy a man, let alone a boyfriend. He was lucky Crocodile remembered his existence. And continued to allow it.

“We aren’t together anymore, Sir.” Your eyes watered. Crocodile sat in the seat next to yours.

“Did you break up tonight?” Crocodile spoke softly, not wanting to embarrass you or upset you further.

“Yes, Sir.” You looked down at your glass of wine, swirling the drink gently.

“Would you like him killed?” Crocodile could have sworn his hook was twitching. He could think of no better ending to the evening. Maybe that would save this terrible day.

“No thank you, Sir.” You didn’t have the same penchant for violence and bloodlust that he did. Crocodile didn’t mind. He didn’t care for succulents all that much. You could have different hobbies and still work well with one another. “You don’t have to waste your time consoling me, Sir. I would like you to enjoy your evening. A few of your lovers are here, if you’d like me to remind you of their names.”

Crocodile scoffed. “As you know, I am always doing what I want to be doing.” You nodded. As if he would forgo time with you for some nameless woman.

“Where did he work again?” Crocodile was going to have him tracked down, just for….fun. 

“He’s the general manager of ‘Fantasia,” you replied, your mouth dipping into a frown. It was a rival casino, though not even in the top three in Rainbase Lake. “He said I am too involved with my career, that I didn’t spend enough time away from work. That my life revolves around yours.” You looked up, repentant already. “I apologize, Sir. You didn’t ask for details.” Crocodile waved your concerns away. He enjoyed it when you shared your feelings and opinions. Crocodile took the flat of his hook and put it under your chin, raising your face to look at his own. A tear tracked down your face.

“Some people do not understand dedication. Loyalty. Duty. Passion.” 

“Passion, Sir?” Your face slightly flushed from the wine - or perhaps the intimate contact. Crocodile belatedly realized his misstep. He hadn’t meant to reveal his desire, especially when you were already upset. He reluctantly removed his hook from beneath your pretty face. 

“Would you like me to escort you home?” Crocodile changed the conversation in case you’d been uncomfortable. 

“Yes, thank you Sir” you looked surprised at his offer and that you yourself had taken him up on it. Naturally he wanted to ensure his favorite employee was home safely. He had never done this for anyone else but that didn’t mean anything. It certainly had nothing to do with your sadness and vulnerability.  He offered you his hand and you gingerly stepped down from your bar stool. Crocodile guided you to the door with his hook on your bare back. He looked closely and found himself right, you had gotten goosebumps.

The two of you walked through the darkened town in silence, enjoying the pleasant weather. That was something else Crocodile appreciated about you - you didn’t feel the need to fill a stillness with meaningless chatter. The longer the walk took, the less pleased Crocodile became. He paid you very well, why weren’t you living in the luxurious part of the town? You turned street corners until you ended at a shabby looking apartment building and stood in the doorway. Crocodile would rather have burned it to the ground before he set foot in it. 

“This is where I live Sir, thank you for accompanying me.” Crocodile looked at the crumbling brick building once again. 

“Why?” Crocodile bit out. He had nearly chomped his cigar in half.

“I beg your pardon, Sir?” you looked confused at his question.

“Why do you live here? I pay you well, I know you can afford better living conditions.” Your face flushed. 

“You need not concern yourself, Sir. The situation has resolved itself.” Crocodile narrowed his eyes. So it was related to the boy. Had you been paying off some of his gambling debt? He had that look about him. Crocodile knew it well, he owned a casino and had seen that type of fool thousands of times. That wouldn’t do and neither would your current living situation. 

“Indeed. You’ll be moving into my mansion.” Crocodile was pleased with this outcome. He hadn’t liked you living so far from him. He always had a security detail following you when you weren’t with him, but it never felt like enough. With the level of intimate knowledge you had about Crocodile and his businesses, he was always concerned that you’d be kidnapped or tortured. Truthfully, if he admitted it to himself, he worried. Another feeling he didn’t like. No, this would work out perfectly. He wouldn’t have to be distracted by thoughts of your well being and you’d be closer to him at all times. 

“Sir, that is…not appropriate,” you demurred. He hadn’t thought of the implication of moving you in, but in this case he wasn’t thinking with his lower head.

“Nonsense. You’ll have the entire East Wing to yourself. Decorate it as you see fit, I’ll provide you a housing stipend. I will wait here for five minutes. Gather what you will need for the night. Daz will collect the rest of your belongings tomorrow.”

“Sir, is this really -” you had crossed your arms across your lovely chest.

“The countdown has begun.” His will was set in stone, not even your annoyance could sway him. You sighed, rolled your eyes, and walked into the building briskly. Perhaps one good thing had come from this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

~~~

Crocodile was immensely happy with the outcome of his decision. He felt at rest knowing he could protect you and keep you safe from those who would seek to gain power over him. Or worse yet, other magnates trying to scout your services for their own. He’d caught Mihawk speaking to you quietly after the last Warlord meeting, and you laughed at something he’d said. He wouldn’t stop you from having conversation with the Swordsman, but he didn’t like it. He knew even Sengoku had tried his hand at recruiting you for the Marines. You turned down every offer and stayed with Crocodile. He wasn’t worried about your loyalty, but Crocodile didn’t like the attention you received from others. You were his personal assistant and Crocodile had never shared well. 

He did try to give you your space and allow you your own personal life within the mansion. He didn’t want to control you, he knew you were your own woman. But since you now shared the same (gigantic) mansion, he did occasionally see you outside of your working hours. He saw you strolling in the gardens, tending to your plants, watching the stars from the balcony. When you weren’t working, you dressed more casually, allowing Crocodile to see more of your body. It did not help that you only referred to him as “Sir,” even outside of work. He had long fantasized about your sultry voice saying “yes, sir” and “no, sir,” in a more intimate setting. He’d tried it with many of his Dolls, but none of them could get it right. Only your “yes, sir,” got his blood pumping. 

~~~

The longer you lived in his mansion, the more suspicious Crocodile became of the nature of your feelings towards him. Crocodile wasn’t one to directly ask, but you seemed to have some feelings that crept out every now and again. Once, he’d asked you to help a Doll leave the morning after a stay in his bedroom and you outright refused. It was the first time that you’d ever refused a task he’d asked of you. And you hadn’t backed down. You said it was outside the scope of your duties, but that you’d send a housekeeper. If Crocodile had to put an emotion to your tone, it would have been jealousy. Other times, he had caught you staring at him, and blushing and averting your gaze when caught. You’d worked together for years, but with the closer proximity and your newly single status, perhaps your feelings were changing. Crocodile wanted to test his theory. One day, when your pencil skirt was particularly tight, he called you into his home office. He was leaning back in his chair, smoking a cigar as usual, papers on his desk. 

“Yes, sir?” you stood at the entrance to the office.

“Come in, I don’t bite.” You immediately moved closer to his desk, slight confusion on your face. Normally he tried to speak to you as professionally as possible, and you immediately noted the change in his language. “Take a look at the latest figures from Rain Dinners. I know the calculations are correct, but something is missing.” You came over to his side of the desk and bent over to read, like you’d done so many times before. But this time, he rested his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t say anything, but he heard you suck in a breath. Interesting. You spent a moment flipping back and forth between the pages.

“I see the issue, Sir,” you said, still bent over. Crocodile stood up and bent over next to you, caging you in with one arm. “I apologize. You are missing a page of the report,” you were blushing furiously but continued “I will g-get you a better copy.” You were flustered.  

“Thank you, that’s all,” Crocodile breathed into the shell of your ear. You shuddered from the close contact. Crocodile sat back in his chair, releasing you. You practically ran from the room, face as red as if you’d spent it in the Alabastan desert. Very interesting.

~~~

Crocodile wanted to set clear boundaries and to have affirmative consent from you before he did anything. He respected you as a person and if you were to turn him down, he would still want to keep you as an employee. He called for you one late evening. You arrived promptly, though in more casual clothing since it was outside of your business hours. You were wearing a mid length sundress with a blue flower pattern. It accentuated everything Crocodile liked about your figure. Perfection.

“How may I help you, Sir?” Polite as always. 

“Come here,” Crocodile beckoned you with one extended finger. You stood in front of him expectantly. He carefully wound his hook around your waist and pulled you closer, directly in front of his seated form. “Better.” He removed his hook. 

“Do you enjoy working for me?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Of course, Sir. This is the best job I’ve ever had.”

“Do you remember the day that I hired you?” Crocodile was dragging on his cigar, allowing the smoke to billow out of his mouth. Simultaneously, he was polishing his hook with a cloth. He knew he struck an imposing figure.

“Yes, Sir.” You were transfixed by the sight of the golden hook, gleaming in the dimming light. 

“Do you remember our conversation about the bananawanis?” You tore your eyes away from his hook.

“Yes, Sir. One of the conditions of employment was being comfortable with bananawanis. You asked if I had any concerns in caring for them.” You were getting nervous, unsure of what the purpose of the conversation was.

“Do you remember what you told me?” Crocodile grinned his unnerving smile.

“Yes, Sir. That they are apex predators, they need to be treated with care and respect. If you accept your place beneath them, they can be affectionate and sweet. And that,” you looked him in the eyes, “I doubted they were the most dangerous creatures on the premises.”

“Do you still believe that to be true?” Crocodile rose to his full height, towering over you. You looked up at him. You looked on edge but not scared.

“Yes, Sir.” 

“And what might you say about a more dangerous creature?” He spoke low, looking down at your reddening face. He wound his hook slowly around the back of your neck, giving you time to move away. You didn’t move except to shiver.

“Ah, likely the same Sir. That if I were to accept my position as subservient, I think most strong, ahm, creatures would be receptive.” Crocodile pulled on his hook gently, baring your neck to him. He bent down to your height, ghosting his lips on the exposed column of your neck.

“Speak now with your objections.” He was being truthful, any hesitation on your part and he would stop immediately. He was interested in willing submission, nothing else.

“Sir, I…admit I am so inclined but I worry about mixing business and passion .” Crocodile grinned at your statement, echoing his words from your birthday. So you’d been affected as well.

“If anything unpleasant happens between us, now or after, I assure you we will go back to our previous arrangement. You will not be fired nor face retribution. Do you find that acceptable?” He would rather lose his other hand than you. You nodded. 

“Yes, Sir.” You were looking at him with stars in your eyes.

“If I do something and you wish to end the experience, say ‘no.’ If you say ‘stop,’ I won’t. If you say ‘please,’ it will not move me, nor will any tears. If you say ‘no,’ I will immediately cease my actions. Do you understand?” You gulped.

“Yes, Sir.”

“What word will end anything that you do not wish to happen?” 

“If I say ‘no’ to you, Sir.”

“Very good. Take off your dress.” You looked nervous but your lips quirked up at the corners with his slight praise. He knew that you did your best when given approval. He sat back down in his chair and admired your elegance. You slowly brought down the straps to your dress, then removed your arms from within them. You weren’t wearing a bra, you’d deemed the dress sufficient. He had seen many strip teases from his Dolls, all perfectly crafted and practiced to make a man inflamed with want. Yours had no artifice, no guile, nothing calculated. And yet he found your performance much more sensual and alluring. He felt his cock stiffening more with each passing second. When your arms were free, you let your dress pool at your feet and stepped out of it. You stood still, awaiting his judgment.

“Absolutely stunning.” He stood up again, circling you slowly, letting the metal of his hook glide across your bared skin. He trailed it over your back, across the backs of your arms, across your collar bones as he went around you. Anywhere he dragged it raised goosebumps on your flesh. “You look even better than I have ever imagined.” You preened at his words. He continued to tease you with his hook. “Does it make you nervous when I stare at your beauty?”

“No, Sir.”

He finished drinking you in and sat down once again, only to spread his legs. “Come sit,” he said, voice smooth as silk. You unhesitatingly went over to him, breasts bouncing gently as you walked. You perched yourself sideways gracefully on his powerful thigh, waiting for his next command. You always did so well following his orders, after all. He put down his cigar and put it on your side, bringing you closer to him.

“Exquisite beyond compare.” Bringing his face down to yours, he twined his hand into the hair at the back of your head. He pulled, slanting your face upwards. You were panting softly. He searched your face for any hint of lingering doubt, but he only saw raw desire. He brought his lips to yours ever so slowly, creeping inch by inch, not yet kissing but oh so close. You tried to reach up for him with your mouth but his hand kept you from doing so. “No need to rush, I’m not going anywhere,” he said and bit the lobe of your ear gently. Crocodile didn’t have it in him to wait any longer to kiss you. He brought his lips to yours, opening his mouth. You gave him entry as his tongue explored your own. He kissed you at his leisurely pace, showing you who was in control. He was demanding and dominating and you were loving every moment. 

“Tell me, if I felt between your legs right now, would you be wet for me?” he asked as he kissed down your jaw. You flushed crimson but his hand in your hair prevented you from avoiding his gaze.

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Show me.” 

“Yes, Sir.” You spread your shaking thighs for him, revealing your soaked panties. He untangled his hand from your hair and walked a finger down your arm, down your stomach, down to your thighs. He reached around you and shredded the sides, destroying them and revealing your gleaming pussy. You gasped but didn’t move. He trailed a finger down your slit, not parting your lower lips but fingers still coming back glistening. 

“Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” you said, biting back a moan. 

“Would you like more?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.” Oh, you’d never added that little plea before. Crocodile felt himself getting even harder than he was before. Maybe one day he’d make you beg. But not today. 

“Ride my thigh, that’s how you’re getting off tonight.” He wanted to watch your face and enjoy the mess you made on his slacks. There’d be plenty of time for other fun. He shifted you so you were straddling his thigh.

“Yes, Sir,” he was pleased that you didn’t hesitate, that you were as interested in following as he was in ordering. You started gyrating on his huge thigh, making small whimpers, your hands on his shoulder for stability. He took the opportunity to cup your breast, kneading the mound between his fingers. Occasionally, he missed having two hands. This was one of those times, he wished he could feel both of your breasts at the same time. Instead, he raised his thigh so you were closer to him and dipped his head to lick and tease at your nipples. Your whimpers only increased. He kissed you all over your chest and neck, making sure to leave a few marks. Your head was thrown back, your eyes glazed as you sought your pleasure. Your whines were increasing in tempo and pitch, you were close. 

“Ask me for permission to come,” Crocodile drawled.

“Please, Sir, may I come?” you answered quickly, not stopping your movements. He wanted to reward you tonight. 

“Yes, you may.” You keened and bucked faster against his thigh, rocking your hips in small circles. He could tell the moment you came undone, he could feel your pussy spasm through his pants. He watched you ride out the high, face contorted in pleasure. He was close himself, but tonight was not for him. After finishing you needed a moment’s rest. You leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing heavily. A moment later, he picked you up and situated you on his other thigh.

“Good girl, how well you’ve done. Look at the mess you’ve made on me,” he said, motioning to the wet spot on his slacks. You reddened but still smiled at him as he enveloped you in his arms. He wrapped you in a nearby blanket off his couch, allowing you to collapse against his broad chest. He relit his cigar and sat peacefully smoking. His rock hard cock would wait for later.

“Thank you, Sir. May I ask you one question?”

“Of course.”

“Can we…do this again sometime?” You seemed unsure of yourself, but Crocodile smiled kindly at you.

“My dear, clear your schedule for the night. And the next. And for the foreseeable future. After all, I am nothing if not an affectionate and sweet creature.” 

[missredherring]

Set Up

Javi Gutiérrez x Harry Castillo

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.1k

Contents: kissing, frottage.

Summary: Matchmaker AU. What are the odds a matchmaker sets you up with a former hook up? Asking for a friend.

A/N: I loved the parallels in the gifs and this idea quickly followed. Thanks to @perotovar for their encouragement.

Not beta read.

Divider by @saradika-graphics.

Javi takes a deep pull of wine and barely tastes it before he swallows. It's not how he was taught one should enjoy wine, but enjoying isn't his goal right now. Maybe he should've gotten something stronger if he really wanted to dull some of the nerves twisting in his stomach.

He's dressed nicely in a fancy restaurant whose waiting list goes out years rather than weeks or months. That he made this reservation a couple of days ago is a testament to the power of an old family name like his, but it makes him feel like even more of a failure.

It'd been a secret wish to find a partner organically. A chance encounter set up by fate where interest sparked with a moment of eye contact, a brush of the hand, an exchange of shy smiles. He knows real life is nothing like the idyllic movies he adores, but the small hope clings to his heartstrings and pulls at the worst times. Besides, when was the last time he's spent enough time in a coffee shop to have a proper meet-cute?

He'd thought Gabriela was the one for a few sweet months of heated kisses and whispered daydreams of a better future out from the thumb of his family. In the end he couldn't bare to trap her in his golden cage just because he was lonely and desperate for companionship. She understood better than he did that his family would never approve of them together.

The pressure to marry and marry well only increased after Lucas' failed coup d'état. The family needed to repair its reputation and present a stable, powerful image to the rest of the world. What better way to do that than with a wedding?

Javi's orders were clear: marry soon or they'd marry him off themselves by the end of the year and he would have no say in the union.

He understands. It's the least he can do to repay the wealth and power that's let him live such a carefree and privileged life, but that hope swings like a pendulum in his chest and he wants one last chance to find love for himself. That's happened before, right? There are a fair few movies that have the protagonists finding true love with the threat of an arranged marriage hanging overhead. Of course they also portray those marriages as a soul-crushing union that's a fate worse than death. He doesn't want to crush anyone or be crushed himself.

Hope swings away and he had to admit that maybe his family isn't wrong about the arrangement idea. So he negotiated one last chance to find a partner for himself and reached out to Nic for advice. His friend (his friend Nic Cage) had offered up the name of a New York-based matchmaker who he swore was one of the best. Some of the successful Hollywood couples? Her doing.

It was a strange experience to trust a total stranger to match him up with another stranger based on a form he filled out, but Javi is the kind of person who wants to trust other people, no matter how many times life delighted in proving him wrong.

Harry C.

He hadn't wanted to see pictures, charmed by the idea of a true blind date, but maybe that had been a mistake. The matchmaker had assured him they matched on the important things and now it was up to them to see if there was any potential in person. He hoped this whole thing wouldn't turn into a disappointment his family would see as another failure.

Javi reaches for his glass again but redirects to the water instead.

His phone vibrates from where he'd placed it next to the table setting. The phone going off during the date would be rude, wouldn't it? He turns the sound off before checking the message. It was from the matchmaker:

"I hope you have a wonderful time with Harry. Of course, if you're not feeling it let me know and I'll get you out of there!"

The emojis depicting a person running away makes him smile. He replies with a thank you and the fingers crossed emoji.

He starts to put the phone back on the table, but should he put it in a pocket instead? Would the phone on the table signal that he wasn't wiling to give his date his full attention? Should he have left his phone at home? No, meeting a stranger in a city he was only passingly familiar with was too naive even for him.

"Javier?" a voice asks as shined leather shoes come into his line of sight just beyond the table.

Javi finishes the movement of slipping his phone into his pocket and stands to greet his date.

"Please, call me 'Javi.'"

"Javi," Harry confirms and doesn't hesitate when Javi takes his outstretched hand and uses it to pull him in for a quick embrace. He lets Javi guide his face to the left and right for two presses of smooth skin against his cheeks. It's over in seconds, leaving Harry with a lingering sense of warmth and a pleasant, familiar cologne.

"Ah, please, have a seat," Javi says, gesturing to the empty seat opposite of him before sitting back down at the table.

It's a nice restaurant with packed tables spaced far enough apart for privacy in low lighting. It would be easy to forget about the city outside when all you can hear is the quiet hum of conversations and the occasional clink of silverware.

With his prize in his sights, Harry's patience feels boundless as he watches Javi finally settle in his seat and look him in the eyes for the first time that night.

Belt buckles rattle and the hiss of zippers are echoed in exhalations as ruddy cocks are freed from pants.

The recognition is slow but steady as Javi studies his face, his eyes darting from feature to feature before landing on his lips when Harry can't hold back his smile.

Harry could spit, but the other man takes his hand and licks along his palm and fingers instead, grunting when Harry uses it to press and hold their dicks together while he kisses him again and again, dizzy with the taste of alcohol and wedding cake.

"I finally get to know your name and of all people a matchmaker is the one to give it to me. What do you think the odds of that are, Javi?"

Seeing Javi's face among the candidates had been a shock. Harry had never expected to see the man he'd hooked up with at his brother's wedding again, but there he was, smiling at the camera wide enough to bring out the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, just as he had when they'd locked eyes across the room at the reception.

"Small," Javi croaks, taking what can only be described as a 'swig' from his wine glass. "but apparently not impossible."

[rootedinrevisions]

Friends (with Benefits) Don't: Part 3

SUMMARY: In this part of the story, you find yourself torn between the excitement of a night out with friends and the allure of an offer for a night out with Jake, prompting you to cancel your girls' night. As you navigate the intoxicating atmosphere of a club, Jake's charm pulls you into a thrilling dance of playful flirtation and heated tension, blurring the lines of your casual arrangement. With each laugh and whispered compliment, the boundaries you set begin to waver, leading to an unexpected yet electric moment outside the club and an even more electric ending to the night.

OTHER PART(S): PART 1 I PART 2

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. ALCOHOL USE. Dancing/Grinding.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS BELOW

You stood in front of the mirror, admiring the way the deep blue dress hugged your curves, the fabric shimmering softly under the light. Your hair fell in loose waves around your shoulders, and you had perfected your makeup—just the right amount of eyeliner to make your eyes pop and a soft pink gloss that felt just flirty enough. Tonight was supposed to be a girls' night out, filled with laughter, dancing, and maybe a little trouble. But as you applied the final touches of your lipstick, your phone buzzed on the counter.

You picked it up, glancing at the screen to see Jake’s name flashing. A flutter of excitement danced in your stomach as you opened the message.

Hey, what are you up to tonight?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a smirk playing on your lips as you crafted your response. 

Depends on who's asking.

You hit send, biting your lip in anticipation. It didn’t take long for his reply to come through.

I was thinking about hitting up this new club some of the guys have been talking about. Want to join?

Your brow arched, your heart racing a little faster. Are the guys going to care if you bring me?

Jake’s response was quick, and the straightforwardness of it made your stomach flip. Going solo. Just thought it’d be more fun with you there.

You glanced at the time, the thrill of spontaneity washing over you. The girls would understand. They always did. Without much further thought, you typed back, Okay, I’m in.

You tossed your phone onto the bed, a rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you hurried to grab a jacket and slip on some heels. This was a different kind of night out, one that felt charged with possibilities. The thought of being with Jake, surrounded by music and laughter, made your pulse race. It wasn’t just the thrill of the club or the drinks that awaited you—it was the promise of a night spent with him that had you feeling alive.

You slipped out the door, the cool night air hitting your skin and invigorating you as you made your way to the Uber that was waiting for you. The drive to the club was filled with excitement and a hint of nerves, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was going to be different.

The moment you stepped into the club, the music hit you—a heavy, rhythmic bass that vibrated through the floors and pulsed in your chest. The place was crowded, lights flashing overhead in sync with the beat. Jake walked beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back as he guided you toward the bar. It was a simple touch, but it sent a jolt of awareness through you, making you wonder if tonight was going to blur the lines you’d set between yourselves.

When you reached the bar, Jake leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he asked, “What are you drinking? Vodka soda?”

You hesitated for a second before answering, "Y-yeah. Vodka soda’s fine."

He nodded and signaled to the bartender, ordering your drink and a beer for himself. When he pulled out his wallet and slid his card across the counter, you shot him a confused look.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, your brows knitting together. “I can pay for my own drinks.”

Jake shrugged, a casual smile tugging at his lips. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Drinks are on me.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Normally, you paid for yourself—always had. The boundaries between you two were clear. You didn’t let anyone pay unless it was a date, and this… this wasn’t a date, right?

Suddenly, your mind started racing. Was this a date? Had you unknowingly agreed to something more? Was Jake seeing this as more than just two friends, more than the no-strings arrangement you'd carefully constructed?

But before you could spiral too far down that rabbit hole, Jake interrupted your thoughts by nudging your shoulder lightly. “Hey,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise in your head. “You good?”

You blinked up at him, startled, before forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… surprised, I guess.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, amused. “Surprised I remember your drink?”

“No, not that.” You bit your lip, glancing down at the drink in your hand. “I just wasn’t expecting you to pay.”

His grin widened, a flash of white teeth under the club's dim lighting. “Well, consider it my way of thankin’ you for joining me tonight.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, but you pushed it down, trying to remind yourself of the boundaries. This wasn’t a date. He wasn’t crossing a line, not technically, but something about it felt… different.

Then, as if sensing the shift in your mood, Jake leaned in a little closer, his voice a teasing drawl. “So, what about dancing? Is that allowed under your rules?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. Dancing? You hadn’t even thought about that when you’d agreed to come. You glanced out at the dance floor, bodies swaying and grinding to the heavy beat, the heat and energy palpable even from where you stood. It wasn’t necessarily against your rules, but dancing like that... well, it could blur things.

Your hesitation must have been obvious because Jake’s lips twitched into a smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “What’s the verdict, darlin’? You gonna let me take you out there, or are you worried it’ll cross some imaginary line?”

There was a playful challenge in his voice, one that made your heart skip a beat. You were overthinking it, you told yourself. It was just dancing. No strings attached, just like always.

You took a deep breath, squashing down the flutter of anxiety in your chest. "Dancing's allowed," you said finally, your voice a little breathless.

Jake’s grin widened, satisfaction evident in his expression. “Good,” he murmured, his hand already reaching for yours. “Because I’m about to make you forget those rules.”

He took your hand, and you let him lead you through the crowd onto the dance floor, the energy around you vibrating with the music. At first, you moved together with a comfortable rhythm, the distance between you just enough to keep things light. But as the third song transitioned into the fourth, the atmosphere shifted.

The thumping bass of the club surrounded you, but all you could focus on was Jake's hands as they held you close, the heat between your bodies building with every passing second. The casual space between you vanished as your hips began to move in sync, the friction of your bodies sparking something hotter than either of you had planned.

“Damn, you look amazing in that dress,” he leaned in and whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You felt a thrill of confidence, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “You should see what I have on underneath it.”

You caught the way his expression shifted, his eyes darkening with desire as he let out a soft groan. “Hoping I can later,” he murmured back, his voice low and filled with promise.

Jake's hands slipped lower, resting just above your butt at first, but as you pressed your hips more boldly against him, rolling them in time with the beat, you felt his fingers tighten, sliding down to cup your ass fully. His grip was firm, possessive even, as if he couldn’t resist any longer.

You smirked at his reaction, feeling the way his body tensed against yours as you ground your hips deliberately into him. You weren’t usually this forward with him, but tonight you wanted to see just how far you could push. The bolder you became, the more Jake’s control seemed to unravel. His breath hitched, and for a split second, you felt like you had him completely off guard.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmured into your ear, his voice rough, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. "I’ve never seen you like this before."

You could hear the raw need in his voice, and it spurred you on. You moved against him again, feeling the way his body responded, and let your head fall back onto his shoulder, giving him a wicked smile. His grip on you tightened even more, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you close, his control slipping further with each movement.

"You're so damn sexy," he whispered, his lips barely grazing your jawline now, his breath warm against your skin. You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, and you couldn't help but let your body respond, pressing harder against him. The heat between you was palpable, and it was clear neither of you was planning on staying at the club much longer.

Jake’s hand slid up your side, brushing the curve of your waist before returning to your hips, pulling you even closer, if that was possible. The boldness of your movements had caught him off guard, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked this side of you. He was used to you being a bit more reserved, but tonight you were anything but shy.

Jake’s hands were on you, possessive and unyielding, as your hips moved together in a slow, heated rhythm. The air around you felt thick, and you could tell he was on the edge of his control. When he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, you felt the heat of his breath as he growled low, "You wanna get out of here?"

For a second, you toyed with the idea of teasing him. Your body was thrumming with need, but something about making him wait felt just as tempting. You let a playful pout form on your lips, your eyes dancing with mischief as you turned your head slightly. "But I just got here," you said, drawing out the words, knowing exactly what you were doing. You could feel his frustration in the way his grip tightened on your hips, his hands nearly trembling with restraint.

Jake's response was immediate. He pulled you closer, so close that there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His voice dropped even lower, barely audible above the music, but the words sent a jolt of heat straight through you. "If you don’t let me take you home," he whispered, his voice rough with desire, "I’m gonna have to take you right here... and I don’t think you want that."

The dirty promise in his voice made your breath catch, and before you could stop yourself, you squeezed your thighs together, the need to be closer to him overwhelming. He noticed. Of course, he noticed. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he saw the effect his words had on you, his smirk dangerous and knowing.

He leaned in again, brushing his lips against your ear with deliberate slowness. "So... you wanna get out of here?" This time, the question was more of a command than a request, and every inch of your body screamed yes.

Without missing a beat, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Jake’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, pulling you off the dance floor with a sense of urgency that made your pulse race. The crowd seemed to part around you as he led you toward the exit, the heat of his body pressing against yours every time someone got too close. But it didn’t matter. Your focus was solely on him—on the way his fingers intertwined with yours and the possessive grip that seemed to say you were his for the rest of the night.

As soon as the cool air of the night hit your skin, Jake’s hands were on you again, gripping your waist and tugging you against his chest. “Can’t believe you made me wait that long to get you out of there,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your temple, his hands squeezing your hips as if he couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go. The sudden movement made you stumble in your heels, but Jake steadied you, his hold shifting as he leaned down to look at you.

“You alright?” he asked a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Yeah, just—” Before you knew what was happening, he bent down and grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you up and flipping you over his shoulder with infuriating ease.

“Jake!” you cried out, the sudden change in perspective making you momentarily dizzy. You braced yourself against his back, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you squirmed in his hold. “Put me down!” But he didn’t budge. His arm was like a steel band wrapped around your legs, holding you firmly in place.

“Not a chance, darlin’,” he drawled, completely unbothered as he strode confidently through the parking lot, each step making you bounce slightly on his shoulder. You glanced up, seeing a few curious onlookers watching with amused expressions, but Jake seemed unfazed, his focus solely on you. The sight of his broad back, the way his muscles shifted under his shirt as he carried you, made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the angle you were at.

“Jake Seresin, you put me down right now!” you demanded, even though laughter threaded through your voice, your hands pushing at his back. All you got in response was a smug chuckle, his grip unyielding as he carried you effortlessly across the parking lot.

He kept his word, not letting you go until he reached his truck and set you carefully on your feet beside it. You swayed for a second, your legs still trembling from the sudden shift, and Jake’s hands settled on your waist again, holding you steady as he leaned in.

“There,” he murmured softly, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your hipbone. “No more falling, okay?”

You looked up at him, breathless and flushed, your heart pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to carry me.”

His eyes darkened, the intensity in them making your stomach flutter. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to put my hands on you,” he said, his voice low and rough, filled with unspoken desire. 

With one swift motion, his hand slid behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair, and in an instant, his lips were on yours. The kiss was hot—heated, almost desperate. It wasn’t soft or tentative; it was full of hunger, the tension from inside the club finally boiling over. His mouth moved against yours with a possessive edge, claiming you in a way that sent a rush of heat straight through your body.

The sharp nip of his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging it lightly before he soothed it with his tongue, and you let out a soft, breathy sound that only seemed to spur him on. Your fingers instinctively fisted into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as your body leaned into his, craving more of that fire, more of the heat that crackled between you two like electricity.

Every nerve in your body was on edge, hyper-aware of how close he was, how his hand in your hair held you in place while his other hand brushed against your hip, gripping just tight enough to make you feel grounded despite the chaos raging in your mind.

As you pulled away from the kiss, your breath heavy and uneven, Jake gave you a puzzled look. His brows furrowed slightly as if trying to figure out what went wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and still thick with desire. “Did I do something?”

You hesitated for a moment, the words tangling in your throat before you finally managed to speak. “You kissed me.”

Jake blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart,” he said, his lips curving into a smirk, “I’ve done a lot more than that to you.”

You bit your lip, shifting uncomfortably as the reality of the kiss hit you. “Yeah, but… you’ve never kissed me before.”

His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion like he was trying to find the issue with what you were saying. He tilted his head, clearly not seeing the problem. “Kissing’s just foreplay for what’s about to happen,” he pointed out, his voice smooth, the words slipping out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You felt your heart racing, the anxiety creeping into your chest as you struggled to shake the thoughts swirling in your mind. He was right—this wasn’t anything new. It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of what always happened between the two of you, just another step before you ended up tangled in his sheets.

But something about it still made your heart skip a beat. You pushed the feeling aside, determined to silence that small voice inside that was overthinking everything.

Jake leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, and his warm breath sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re thinkin’ too much,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. “When I get you back to your place, I’m gonna have to clear that pretty little head of yours.”

His words went straight to your core, and you felt the tension in your body release slightly, your earlier hesitation fading away. You knew what this was, and you weren’t about to let your overthinking ruin the moment. You let out a shaky breath, your mind slowly untangling itself as you nodded.

Jake smirked, his eyes dark with intent as his hand tightened around your waist. “That’s better,” he murmured, before pressing one more heated kiss to your lips. “Now get in,” he said as he motioned toward the truck, his thumb tracing idle circles on your hip as he waited for you to move.

For a second, you just stood there, staring up at him. His expression was relaxed, but there was a simmering intensity beneath the surface that made your skin tingle. This thing between you two... it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to make your heart flutter or your stomach flip. But here you were, melting under his touch, wanting him in a way that scared you.

Shaking off the thought, you turned and climbed up into the truck, settling into the passenger seat as you tried to calm your racing heart. Jake shut the door behind you, then jogged around to the driver’s side, sliding in beside you with an ease that made everything he did seem effortless.

The truck rumbled down the dark road, the hum of the engine filling the silence between you. Jake had one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other draped lazily on his thigh, his thumb tapping lightly to some rhythm only he seemed to hear. The night was quiet, except for the faint thrum of your pulse still racing from the club and everything that had happened so far.

A sudden chill swept over you, and you shivered, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. Jake glanced over at you, his eyes flicking between you and the road.

“You cold?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the goosebumps on your arms betrayed you.

Without another word, Jake reached up and turned down the air conditioning, the cool blast fading to a more bearable breeze. But then, with his free hand, he reached into the backseat, rummaging around for a second before tossing something into your lap. Surprised, you looked down to see a worn Navy sweatshirt sprawled across your legs.

You blinked, glancing up at him with a confused look. “What’s this?”

“Put it on,” he said simply, his eyes still focused on the road, but a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You hesitated for a moment before slipping the sweatshirt over your head. It was warm, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As you settled into it, the faint scent of him lingered in the fabric—something woodsy and clean, unmistakably Jake. You took a deep breath, feeling an odd sense of calm wash over you.

“Better?” he asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, better.”

Jake returned your smile with one of his own before reaching over, his hand settling on your thigh. His touch was warm, the weight of his hand a reassuring presence as his fingers lightly brushed against your skin. He didn’t say anything more, just kept his hand there as he focused on the road ahead, guiding you both toward your place.

The simple gesture—his sweatshirt, his hand on your leg—felt unexpectedly intimate. But in the quiet of the drive, it didn’t feel too heavy or complicated. It was just Jake being Jake, the line between you both blurring for a moment but never fully crossed.

As Jake continued driving, the quiet rumble of the truck and the gentle sway of the road lulled you into a drowsy haze. The warmth of his sweatshirt, soft and comforting against your skin, combined with the alcohol humming through your veins, sent you slipping into sleep before you even realized it. Jake noticed, his lips curving into a small, amused smile. You looked peaceful, bundled up in his sweatshirt, just like the angel he always teased you about being.

When he pulled up to your place, he cut the engine and moved around the truck. Gently opening the door, Jake leaned in, his fingers expertly unbuckling your seatbelt without disturbing you too much. But as his arms slid under you to lift you, you stirred, blinking awake and looking around in confusion.

"You're home," he murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring as he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your front door.

He set you down gently, his strong hands steadying you as your feet hit the ground. The weight of the moment hit you, and with it, the realization of what had been the unspoken plan for the night. The two of you had been on this track from the moment he asked if you wanted to get out of there. But now, standing in front of your door, sleep still tugging at your eyelids and the warmth of his sweatshirt making you feel oddly safe, you hesitated.

You knew what Jake was expecting. And, honestly, part of you wanted it, too. But another part just wanted to curl up in bed, the softness of his sweatshirt wrapped around you, and drift off to sleep.

Except... that felt weird, right? You don't wear the sweatshirt of your casual fling. You don’t cuddle up in it like it’s something more than it is. 

As if reading your mind, Jake shifted slightly and broke the silence. "We talked about what was gonna happen tonight," he reminded you, his tone light, no pressure in his words.

You swallowed, the weight of the evening settling over you. "Yeah... Do you hate me if I take a rain check?" you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

Jake scoffed, his lips quirking up into that familiar crooked smile. "Hate you? Come on, sweetheart. Not a chance," he said, brushing it off like it was nothing. He leaned in a little closer. "Get some sleep. We’ll figure the rest out later."

Relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "Thanks, Jake. Get home safe, okay?"

He nodded, gave you one last lingering look, then turned and headed back to his truck. You watched him until he disappeared down the street, then slipped inside your place, closing the door behind you.

As you made your way to your room, your mind was still buzzing. You quickly tugged Jake’s sweatshirt off, tossing it onto your bed before shimmying out of your dress. As the fabric fell to the floor, you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror—the lacy set of lingerie you’d chosen specifically for tonight staring back at you, a reminder of what you’d expected to happen. You sighed. It felt strange, wearing something like this for a casual fling. Too intimate. Too much.

You grabbed a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, sliding into them quickly before catching sight of Jake’s sweatshirt again. 

The apartment was a little chilly tonight, and, after all, if he really wanted it back, he would have asked for it, right? Before you could overthink it anymore, you reached out, pulling the soft fabric over your head and curling up in bed. 

The warmth of it, and the faint scent of him lingering in the fabric, wrapped around you like a comforting embrace as you pulled the blankets up and let your eyes drift closed.

A few hours later you were pulled from your sleep, your phone lit up on the nightstand. You picked it up, heart skipping a beat when you saw Jake's name flashing on the screen. With a mix of curiosity and excitement, you swiped to answer.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

“Yeah, it’s just… I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, his tone slightly shy. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Relief washed over you, even if you didn’t want to admit it. “Oh.”

“I didn’t wake you up, right sweetheart?”

“N-no. I was just trying to fall asleep, but I hadn’t yet,” you lied.

He chuckled softly, and the sound warmed you. “Same here. Just can’t stop replaying the night over and over.”

You settled into your pillows, your heart fluttering as you listened to him talk about the club, the way you had lit up the dance floor, how beautiful you looked in that dress. 

The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, teasing and flirting, sharing thoughts and dreams until the world outside faded into nothingness.

Before you knew it, the soft cadence of your voices turned to whispers, the late hour pulling at you both. As the conversation drifted, you felt your eyelids growing heavy.

And just like that, you both succumbed to the weariness of the day, the phone resting between you as sleep overtook you. The last thing you heard was Jake's soft breathing on the other end, a rhythm that matched your own as you drifted into dreams—dreams colored with the promise of what was to come and the undeniable connection that had sparked between you two.

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #35)

Chapter #35. SURPRISE!!!🎄 🎁 Merry Christmas! 🎁🎄 I couldn't leave us on that big of a cliffhanger! Not on Christmas! Anyway, here is a little holiday gift from me to you. I want to sincerely thank everyone in this community who takes the time to read this story. I am so grateful for each and every one of you! Where is Natalie taking Alexander? Is he going to love it or hate it? It's usually 50/50 with him.

Previous: Chapter #34

Next: Chapter #36

Word Count: 8,756 Read Time: Approx. 90 mins

CW: Physical intimacy. SO much physical intimacy.

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #35: La Petite Aiguille

[Alexander’s POV]

Rows upon rows of bolts of fabric in every color, shade and pattern I could fathom, lined the walls. Custom racks accommodated spools of thread all arranged in the gradient of the rainbow, while tungsten sconces bathed the room in an orange, electric glow. The solid wood beams of the ceiling gave the room an old-fashioned gravitas, while the smell of polished wood and starched linen ignited my olfactory senses. 

Everything was immaculately organized, each thread having its place. 

There was a break in the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the left, where a maroon curtain separated us from whatever lay on the opposite side. 

On display on the tables in front of us and on the counters of the classical oak desk that served as the register, were mannequins sporting all kinds of clothing, from impressive gowns fit for a runway stage, to elaborate, themed costumes, to, yes, even beautifully crafted suits in every cut. 

But the best part? 

Every single article of clothing on display, from the dresses, to the outfits, the hats and shoes, were perfectly proportioned to my dimensions. This entire, wonderful place accommodated people like me. 

I stared, slack jawed, unable to believe this wasn’t some sort of very realistic dream, when I felt Natalie’s gaze on me, “What do you think? This is supposed to be the best place in all of Massachusetts…” She hummed softly, the fingers of her left hand stroking the outside of the pocket, about level with my chest. 

Unable to tear my eyes away, I swallowed, gripping the fabric to keep from showing her any pathetic emotions, “I—“ 

Before I had a chance to complete, or even begin, that thought, the sharp clink of metal rings sliding across a curtain rod hit my ears, as someone crossed the threshold. 

My heart jumped. Another human. What was this one going to be like? 

My hands itched for something to defend myself with. Whether she could feel my body stiffen, or just guessed by instinct, Natalie gently pressed her fingers over my heart, caressing my forearm with her thumb. I looked up to catch her gaze. Her eyes seemed calm, reassuring. I did my level best to relax. 

As the figure crossed behind the main desk, I endeavored to take in all of her details, reading her for any signs, positive or negative. 

Her hair was cut short, tight pin curls looping and twisting in a gravity defying mop of pure white. Her keen, bright eyes shone beyond the rim of her, golden reading glasses, perched low on her nose. Her vintage jewelry, including an elegant gold watch, sparkled in the light of the lamp beside her. Her outfit was clearly custom made, a beautiful matching vest and skirt in warm earth tones, with white dress sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hands were lithe, yet possessed a certain air of intentionality with every move she made. She held a leather bound tome under her arm.

“Apologies for the wait, we’re at the peak of our holiday orders at the moment. How can I help you?” She locked eyes with Natalie, seemingly not noticing me quite yet. Her voice was soft and clear as a bell. She set down her book, cracking it open and scribbled something along its many columns and rows. Natalie stepped up to the counter as she spoke. I leaned forward, enjoying the swooping, artistic motions of her calligraphic script as she wrote in incredibly ornate cursive. 

“Oh, hello, there.” She’d stopped writing. I looked up to find her gaze, dulled with age but not without a keen spark, was fixed on me. 

I clenched my jaw as I hardly dared to breathe… I waited for the condescending comment to come next. She leaned down to address me again, “Sir? What can I do for you today?” A smile played about her lips, but it was far from anything like a sneer. It was warm, friendly. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was waiting for my reply. She was addressing me directly. I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I believe I’m here to purchase a suit.” I raised my voice to cover the distance, trying to sound like I did this sort of thing all the time. 

“More than just one. He’d like to be fitted today, please.” I whipped over my shoulder to look up at Natalie. Was she serious? When I met her eyes, she nodded and winked at me. 

“So you want the full custom package?” The woman looked at me, I looked to Natalie, Natalie nodded in the affirmative. The human across from us checked her wrist, nodding with an exact precision I couldn’t help but admire, “Perfect timing. I believe I can squeeze you in between our other standing consultations. Right this way.” She motioned for us to follow her into the curtained room. 

We entered the back area and were greeted by two tables with ornate lion’s paw legs. The one on the left was piled with fabric, neatly folded, with tools of the trade including rulers, pushpins, scissors and measuring tape. On the right, the surface of the table was bare, save a series of pristine white boxes, each sitting side by side, along its center. I wondered what those were. 

Instead, we curved toward the left. I supposed I’d just have to wait to find out more. 

We came to a stop in front of the table with its neatly organized tools. I was beginning to deeply appreciate the pristine organization of this place. It was far more comforting than Natalie’s rat’s nest approach to every inch of her living space, though I'd managed to train her out of her most egregious lifestyle habits. 

I was torn from my musing when fingers descended all around me, the pad of Natalie’s thumb resting over my chest while two fingers hooked under my arms as she applied light pressure.

I met her eyes to see her arched brow, as she sought permission to pick me up and set me down. With a curt nod from me, she lifted me up and out, placing me on my own two feet in the center of the table. As she fished for my crutch, the other woman approached the table, setting a clipboard and red ink pen down on the surface beside me. 

She adjusted her glasses as she pulled the chain to a lamp behind me, bathing my surroundings in a soft glow. I couldn’t help but notice the way my jaw involuntarily clenched and I held my breath as her arm loomed overhead. 

I realized with a sharp pang the indignity that was about to commence. 

Natalie was finally granting me the opportunity to dress like the gentleman I was, a wonderful thing indeed, but… no tailored suit, big or small, was possible without acquiring that gentleman’s measurements. 

I felt a twist in my stomach, as I pictured being pinched, grabbed, and puppeted about like a doll, as string was cinched too tightly around my arm or leg to quantify the size of limbs. This strange woman’s hands who I’d admired from a distance for their precision and poise, now intimidated me in the lamplight, seeming too aged, bony and frighteningly precise in their movements to be anything but painful when they seized me. 

The liver spots that dotted her arm, the thin and almost papery nature of her skin that displayed the blue veins snaking beneath and the pronounced knuckles on her arthritic, littlest fingers all reminded me of a particular set of hands I’d fought very hard to forget. 

“… Alexander?” The present circumstance came back into crystal clear focus at the sound of my name from Natalie’s lips. I blinked hard and looked up at where the sound had come from. Her finger and thumb held my crutch between them, as she bent at the waist to address me, her brow slightly furrowed with worry, she gently brushed my arm with the side of her curled fingers, nudging me back into reality, “… Here you go.” She offered me my walking aide, and I cleared my throat, taking it from her while staring at the floor. 

“Ah, is that your name? I don’t think we got properly introduced.” This time it was that voice that tinkled like a bell in my ears. I’d admit, it had a pleasant ring, despite my trepidations, “Hello, Alexander, I’m Marianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She offered a finger to shake. I admit, I was taken aback. Why was she so courteous? She was smiling at me. 

It put me on edge. 

When was she going to burst into laughter? Was it when I gave in to her invitation to shake, like equals, only for her to pull her hand away? Or would it be the moment I turned over my shoulder where she’d take the opportunity to snatch me up by the collar? I refused to believe this wasn’t an act. 

She was still offering her finger. 

I was taking too long, if I waited much more I’d be questioned. 

I took a few steps forward and stiffly shook the pad of her finger with my hand. Immediately retreating the few steps back when it was over. Good. No funny business. Not yet. I decided as long as she continued this charade of being polite, I’d do the same. An eye for an eye and all that. 

“Well, we’re delighted to have you here. And what’s your name, young lady?” Natalie introduced herself and shook hands with the older woman with a warmth I found reassuring. “Welcome to La Petite Aiguille.” I suppose she thought that name was terribly clever. How gouche. Of course, she probably assumed I couldn’t understand French, which would be a false assumption.

 I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as she addressed us again, “May I interest either of you in any refreshments?” She had my attention, now, as she acquainted us with our options. I ordered herbal tea, Natalie chose coffee. The woman, Marianne, excused herself to prepare them both. 

After the clack of the woman’s shoes on the hardwood faded, Natalie leaned down, resting her chin on her forearm, setting down her free hand close to where I stood, “So? Whaddya think?” Her eyes gleamed. Always so excitable, wasn’t she? 

“It…” I felt heat rise in my face. I mustn’t come across like some giddy child let loose in a toy store, “It seems like a professional and respectable establishment.” 

Her face fell, she was clearly hoping for more enthusiasm from me, but I was far too embarrassed to show her just how excited I was. Before she could form a response, Marianne returned with a tray, including a steaming mug of coffee I could’ve taken a dip in if I so chose, as well as a teapot, mug and saucer balanced on an embossed tray, all sized to me. But that was not all. In hand, she also clutched a proportional end table and chair which she gingerly placed beside me. I served myself the tea as she continued.

“As you can see we specialize in custom clothing for those of nimbler proportions than our own.” Nimbler, eh? I quite liked that. “So what’re we getting outfitted for today? A holiday party? Gala? Wedding?” Me? At a human wedding? I nearly spit a mouthful of tea back into the cup. 

“No, nothing like that.” Natalie swooped in to save the conversation, “He just likes to be sharply dressed. Personally, I love lounging at home in sweats and a t-shirt but this one wants cufflinks and starched collars.” Her index finger brushed the toe of my shoe, “He’s suffered for way too long in casual clothes. Now that he’s more healed up, he deserves to dress to the nines every day if he wants to.” She winked at me. My heart knocked at my ribs. Stupid, impressionable, laughable idiot! Just drink your tea and stop with the flushed face already! I swallowed everything in the cup in one go. 

“A true mondain, I see. Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Let’s see what we can do.” What was this woman’s deal with sprinkling French into every other sentence? Was she trying to show off? She grabbed her pen and started to jot things down on the form before her. 

I poured myself another cup of tea, and directed my words to the ceramic vessel, “Vous pensez que vous êtes si intelligent, n'est-ce pas? Je peux aussi parler français, tu sais.” The woman, I supposed I could start thinking of her by her name, Marianne, never paused in her writing. The line came and went without her understanding. I pursed my lips and couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed my face. It seemed she didn’t know the language nearly as well as she’d put on. I continued to revel in my superiority, until I heard the human to my right clearing her throat theatrically. 

I looked up to see Natalie’s eyebrows raised as she scowled at me disapprovingly. “Be nice!” She mouthed. I opened my hands and shrugged as if to say “What?”. She didn’t get a chance to retaliate, however, as Marianne raised her eyes from the page and addressed us. 

“Now, first thing’s first, we’ll need your measurements.” Damn. I came down from my temporary high and felt my heart in my throat again. 

Evidently I wasn’t as skilled at masking my feelings on the matter as I’d thought, because she reassured me while preparing her tools, “Not to worry, Alexander, there will be no rough treatment here. I’ll be as gentle with you as Natalie would.” I snuck a glance up at the woman she’d mentioned, only to find, much to my embarrassment, that she was already looking me over. 

We both instantly turned our attention back to our drinks.

Marianne carried on unperturbed. I was beginning to wonder if this woman was one of the least observant people on the planet, or if she was just exceedingly polite. She scribbled things on her paper, before organizing her rulers and measuring tapes before her. She addressed me as she prepped, “So, you’re fond of gentleman’s wear, hm? Not many young men care about keeping up appearances anymore. I’m glad you’re an exception to the rule. My Henri was fond of his pinstripes and pocket squares. A perfect pairing for a seamstress, you can imagine!” Her eyes sparkled with memories long past. 

“I… I’m sorry for your loss…”  Natalie’s voice was kind and genuine. 

“Oh, that’s alright, honey. We had many wonderful years together.” She turned to me, “I think he would’ve quite liked you, Alexander.” 

Me? I couldn’t imagine how much I and an older human man could possibly have in common, besides our manner of dress. And in any case, this woman had only just met me, how could she possibly make such a rapid assessment?

I nodded politely in agreement anyway, hoping to move past this rather somber moment and return to the exciting part of getting me into a beautiful suit. 

Of course, Natalie couldn’t help but ask follow up questions. Annoying, the way humans always politely placated each other with niceties and small talk, “Did he help you run this place?” 

Marianne cracked a smile, “Oh, yes! The whole thing was his idea. Down to the name. I was perfectly happy to stitch away on my little creations at home, but he encouraged me to share my skills with others. He was always the gregarious one…” you don’t seem to have any problem talking at length, as far as I can see. “… and much better at putting our clients at ease, though, I try my very best. I know the constant invasion of personal space can be unwelcome.” 

Finally someone acknowledges this well-known truth! 

“Now, Mr. Alexander, if you’ll take a few steps forward, I’ll get your height to start.”

The flattery of being addressed so formally was quickly counteracted by an unwelcome reality that the aforementioned invasion of personal space was about to begin. 

I looked about myself to set down the cup in my hand. The side table was just out of reach from where I stood. I shifted my weight, about to turn over my shoulder to cross closer to the surface when a finger brushed the length of my forearm, warm and soft. I stopped in my tracks and looked up. 

Natalie was offering to take the cup from me. Her lips curled into a soft smile as my gaze locked with hers, “Don’t worry, I won’t accidentally drop this one. I promise.” She winked. 

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, and shake my head before balancing the cup on the pad of her index finger. She pinched it between finger and thumb and carried it to its proper place for me. 

***** 

As Alexander stepped forward, away from the tiny furniture, the experienced hands of the craftswoman carefully slid a polished wooden ruler behind his back. I found myself balancing my chin over my crossed arms to get a closer look at what the measurement tool showed. 

He stood very still, his posture perfect, and his chest puffed. I could tell he was stretching his spine to stand as tall as he possibly could. As I squinted to discern the tiny lines that Alexander could easily trace with his fingers, I saw his exact height for the first time. 

Five and half inches, exactly. 

My heart melted. 

As the ruler was removed, I searched his face for signs of unease. I wouldn’t blame him for being nervous. He was already grumpy enough being handled by me, I knew having a stranger’s hands all over him wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park. 

“You okay?” I mouthed, unable to resist brushing the toe of his shoe with a fingertip. He nodded, sucking in a sharp breath. I could see he was steeling himself. 

I trusted Marianne, she seemed extremely kind and respectful. Still, her fingers, though aged and thin, were each over half the length of his entire little body. 

She prepared a length of bright crimson thread, tying it off in a knot in one graceful pull. 

“First, I’ll ask you to let your arms rest at your sides…” he shuffled his weight, unsure what to do with the crutch in his hand. 

“You okay to stand without it for a few? I can hold it for you.” I offered. He nodded, clearly disinterested in needing any help, but having no choice. 

“…And then I’m going to measure the width of your shoulders, will you turn to face Natalie?” I liked that she walked him through every single step she was taking. I could see he was starting to relax a bit as he shuffled his feet to face me. Marianne used the bit of string to measure along his shoulder blades, from point to point. The scribble of her pen on paper and the hum of the heater somewhere behind us, were the only sounds in the room. 

Until…

Thunk, thunk, thunk. 

I think I jumped more than he did. Someone was knocking on what I assumed must’ve been the back door of the shop. 

Marianne had a different reaction, “Oh!” She dropped the thread and checked her watch, “They’re early! I apologize, someone is here to drop off a bulk order. You’ll have to excuse me. This is the trouble of running things all by myself!” She looked flustered and embarrassed for having to pause, “I should only be a minute!” 

She stepped through the curtain and after a few moments I could hear the sounds of a door opening and the low rumble of male voices mixing with hers. The activity faded into the background as I took in the little life before me. 

“You wanna sit down? Rest your leg?” 

“I’m fine, thank you.” I wasn’t convinced but it didn’t seem worth it to argue over. I found myself reaching for the bit of string that had served as his measuring tape. Threading it in and out from between my fingers. 

That’s when we heard Marianne’s voice cut through, far more flustered than we’d heard before, “No! No, this is all wrong. You have half of my satin and georgette mixed in with someone else’s bolts of polyester! How difficult is it to keep your orders straight?” I could hear the clack of her shoes on hardwood growing louder as she suddenly thrust aside the curtain, “I’m so sorry for this little hiccup. I’ll just be a bit longer… Oh—“  

Her eyes cast down to the crimson thread pinched between my finger and thumb. “Were you measuring him yourself?” 

Alexander and I both exchanged flustered glances before I tried my best to respond, “Well, I—“ 

I heard the low voices of men and the shuffling of heavy feet beyond the curtain. As Marianne checked over her shoulder, her eyes widened, “Be careful with that! You almost knocked it over!” Her head of curly white hair, popped back in to address us, “No, no. Please. Go ahead! It’ll save us time! You’ll have to excuse me!” She gestured at the thread between my fingers before dashing off, footsteps fading even as I could hear her shout in exasperation about some other mishap those workers were creating in her shop. 

And suddenly it was just he and I. 

He cleared his throat, pulling at his collar. 

“So…” I finally mumbled, breaking the silence. His blue eyes met mine when I spoke. My face felt warm. 

“So.” He shifted his weight, his face splashed with pink, while he craned his neck to stare up at me. 

“I guess, I’m gonna— I mean, if you’re okay with… me??”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, nodding his head, while his blonde bangs hung in his eyes, “Right, no. I mean. We must… Musn’t we? For the sake of-of the time. Like she said.” 

“Yeah. Totally. Uh. Okay. So…” I twirled the piece of thread around my finger, while I glanced at the sheet of paper, “It looks like I’m supposed to measure your chest next…” My hands inched toward him. I could feel my pulse in the tip of every finger, I had to concentrate to keep them steady. Alexander watched my encroaching hands like a hawk, his spine stiff, his lips taught.

“Wait!” He threw up his own little palm. I stopped, confused. His brow furrowed as he addressed me, “You’re practically towering over me, standing like that. Do you know how exhausting it is to practically break my neck just to be able to address you? Go find a chair.” I raised my brows, he rolled his eyes, “Please.” 

I pulled it up before the table and sat down, “There, better?” I was so much closer to eye level with him now, and yet, he still seemed so far away, standing in the shadow I cast. 

He won’t seem so far once I’m physically touching him. I felt a thrill rush through me at the thought. 

I took the knotted end and gently held it against his sternum. He rocked back on his heel from the pressure, nevertheless. His little heart was pounding against his ribs. I melted again. 

After a moment, “Ahem, Natalie?” I was frozen in place, just mesmerized by the thrumming of life beneath my fingers.

“Right, right! Sorry!” I shook my head. “Okay hold that for me, please…” his lithe little fingers took over for my gigantic one, as I wrapped the string around his chest and arms. I pinched the string where it met the knotted end and pulled it away from his body. Finally, I laid it flat to the tape measure before jotting down the number. We proceeded to do this with the length of his arms, the circumference of his tiny little wrists, even his neck, which I tried to be painstakingly delicate with. 

With his chin thrust in the air, I could feel him gazing up at me as he held the knot against the hollow of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak and I bit the inside of my lip, worried he might snap at me out of discomfort, but instead he spoke so softly it was almost too quiet to hear, “You’re not too bad at this, Ms. Marquez…” 

As he spoke, I could feel the tiny vibrations in his neck as I very delicately brought the string around. What a mesmerizing feeling. I swelled with pride, “Oh really? Approval from the Little Nightmare? Not a single criticism yet? It’s my lucky day. What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head… it’s big enough as it is!” 

“Hey! Rude!” I released the string, pretending to be offended. To my delight, his little face broke out into that lovely crooked smile I adored so much. 

“You’re awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t ya?” 

“As I ought to be! It was a shining example of my cracking wit, and you ought to be more impressed.” 

“You ready for the next part, Mr. Chuckles?” 

“Oh! Come on!” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, “That was terrible. Was that the best you could come up with? I’ll take Xandy over that, any day!” 

“What’s that? I can call you Xandy now??” 

“No!!! No that’s not what I said! Don’t you dare– Hey! What’re you doing?!”

**********

As I spoke, her fingers and thumbs rushed up from behind and landed on either side of my waist. The warmth was intoxicating, her grip all encompassing, and intimate. My face flushed with color and heat. 

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s the next thing on the list!” She was defensive. I twisted and squirmed feeling the tension in the thread as it rested at the small of my back. 

She had to be playing coy with me! Couldn’t she see how flustered she was making me? It’d been hard enough to keep my composure when she rested her fingertip over my heart, or gently guided my arms where she wanted them, or leaned down so close while she regarded me with such care and gentleness that her fingertips left electrical pulses where they brushed against my skin. But now this? 

I was finding it hard to breathe. 

“You could at least warn a man before you trap him in your colossal grip! Have you learned nothing?” 

“I’m not– Look, we don’t have to do this. Especially if you’re gonna get all pissy about it.” She looked crestfallen. That soft warmth dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared when she pulled her hands away, the thread dragging limply along the table’s surface, pinched between her finger and thumb. 

No, no, no! This isn’t what I wanted at all. Couldn’t she see I was addicted to it now? That warmth, that soft touch? This was all her fault.  

“Wait!” I stepped forward, snatching up the opposite end of the thread before it snaked away from my reach. She looked at me with curiosity, waiting to see what I’d do next, “If you’re going to hold me by the waist, have the courtesy to let me participate.”  Her golden green irises dilated as her mouth parted slightly. I had her complete attention. 

A tremor ran down the nape of my neck to the curve of my lumbar as I pulled the string toward me. She let this tension in the thread move her hand forward with no resistance. My heart skipped a beat. She was letting me control her.

I guided her fingertips to the soft flesh just above my hipbone, where my obliques flared and rippled as I fought to keep my composure. I transferred the thread to my right hand and fed it behind my back, allowing the tension to hold my weight as I leaned back, feeding it around to my right side. I could count each and every quaking beat of my heart as I held the crimson thread in my fist, offering it to her. She slid the tip of her index along the inside of my forearm, making me suck in a sharp breath, before uncurling my fist and taking the string from me. 

“Now what?” she whispered, two pairs of a finger and thumb resting on either side of my body, waiting for my instruction. 

I’d never felt so big in all my life. 

I guided one set of fingers to rest on my navel.  Could she feel how my breath shook when she touched me? 

I grounded myself and brought the other side to meet, letting the string cross itself at the proper place. She pinched the spot with her thumbnail and slowly, gently, retreated to measure and write down her findings. 

“Okay, now hips,” She held the length of string in front of me, waiting to be guided once more. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from beaming. 

I performed the same little ritual with her, and this time her fingertips landed over a much more intimate part of myself. I flushed bright, hissing between clenched teeth, “Careful!”

I expected her to scoff at me, but the eyes that met my upward gaze were soft, “I’m only going where you put me. You’re in control.” 

I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly my legs buckled and gave way beneath me. She was quick to act, wrapping a finger around my hips and pinning me between finger and thumb. 

Dear god, what was she doing to me?!

Before I could take another breath, the clattering of human footsteps and the scrape of metal met my ears and made me jump. 

Marianne’s voice cut through our built up tension like a razorblade, as she seemed completely unaware of our situation, “Okay! So sorry about that, you two!” Natalie quickly let go, as I rushed to tidy myself and readjust my crooked clothing. The seamstress rounded the corner of the table and entered my periphery, glancing over the measurement sheet “Looks like you got the vast majority completed. That’s perfect, we’ve got a great place to start.” She clapped her hands with a sharp crack, a smile warming her aged features as she leaned down to address me, “Now, Mister Alexander. What’re we in the market for?” 

My head spun as I tried to engage my brain, lips and tongue again, “W-what am I—? Uh, um…” It was a truly foreign sensation for words to elude me. I shook my head trying to clear my mind, “A, uh, A classical cut is always best, single breasted, three piece, wool, tweed or cotton, with a notch lapel and double vent.” The words flowed with an easy familiarity, and I found it easier to breathe for the first time since she had left Natalie and I to our own devices. 

“You were right,” She addressed the woman before me, “He really knows his stuff!” Natalie nodded vigorously and smiled, as if to say “You have no idea”. 

“Ah— And no pinstripes. I hate pinstripes.” I added in haste. 

“Duly noted! I think I have quite a few pieces you’ll be interested in.” She gathered the paper with my measurements, Natalaie’s chicken scratch contrasting sharply with the older woman’s elegant script. As she crossed the room, opening a cabinet and searching for something, she spoke over her shoulder, “Please, feel free to come to this other table here…” She gestured to the table with those mysterious boxes on them. 

Natalie and I exchanged a glance, before she slid her palm beside me, hooking her thumb beneath my left arm. She gathered me in her hand, her other fingers supporting my weight before she lifted me off the table. 

She crossed with me to the opposite side, her free thumb gently stroking my cheek. It wasn’t all that long ago I would’ve recoiled at such a caress. Now I melted beneath it. 

What has gotten into me?? 

Soon, I was being lowered to my feet, before one of those mystery boxes. I could see now that the front was obscured by a curtain. 

“Go ahead,” Marianne had just placed a polished wooden case of some kind on the table just to my right, as she seemed to register my curiosity. I took a step forward, only to feel a warmth and pressure on my shoulder. I turned to see Natalie offering me my crutch, balanced on a fingertip. I acquiesced and took it, before thrusting the curtain aside. 

I’m not sure what I’d expected but it wasn’t this. 

Beyond the veil of the fabric, and just a small step up, was what I imagined a dressing room to look like. I’d never been in one myself, human-sized or otherwise, but it fit my expectations and then exceeded them. On the wall opposite me was a full length mirror, held in a gilded, golden frame. A beautiful Persian rug softened the faux wooden floor. There were hooks along the wall to hang clothing, as well as a vanity complete with a mirror and chair. Along the walls were framed prints of famous art pieces. I admit, the Lady with an Ermine was the only one I recognized. Everything felt… authentic. Real. Human. Is this what rooms looked like to them all the time? There was a wide variety of plants that looked… were they real? Not just plastic bastardizations of the typical human houseplant? 

I stepped into the ‘room’ and as I marveled, heard a breathy “Wow, fancy…”  from up high. I craned my neck to find that this room, for all its proportional realism, lacked a ceiling, and, therefore, Nat was easily able to peer down, her arms crossed, and smile at me from above. 

But there was one area in the corner, also sectioned off by a curtain, which, when I peered into it, I realized was actually fully enclosed, complete with an electric wall sconce to brighten the space. 

Oh. What a relief. I wouldn’t have to change in front of these two women. I never expected humans to think of these things. This was a nice surprise. 

“Is it suitable to your tastes?” Marianne appeared beyond the edge of the far wall, “My Henri designed every detail. We had such fun putting them together. Oh speaking of… try these on for size…” 

A wrinkled finger and thumb descended into the space, shattering the illusion that I was in anything other than a highly detailed doll house. Pinched between her digits, was a suit jacket, vest, and matching slacks, each hanging on their own seemingly custom wooden hangers. She carefully placed each of these on one of the wall hooks. Her hand disappeared and then returned with another set and another and another. 

I admit, I felt my heart race at just the sight of them. I’d missed the familiar fit of a suit so very much. My grip on the walking aide was becoming clammy as I absentmindedly bounced on the ball of my good foot in anticipation. 

She also laid down a folded under shirt on the vanity (the folds were crisp and tidy. Impressive for fingers that big) and several different collared shirts on the remaining hangers. 

“I’ll work on ties, belts and shoes while you start with these. How’s that sound?” I nodded in agreement, already making a beeline for the undershirt, a white collared dress shirt and the first vest and pair of slacks on the rack before she’d finished speaking. 

I was just about to disappear into the changing room when a finger on my shoulder stopped me. 

My mouth twisted into an instinctive grimace as Natalie halted me. What?? What did she want?? I was moments away from shedding this baggy loungewear for something sophisticated and elegant. What could possibly be so important that she needed to interrupt me at this very moment? 

I turned to face her, only to realize precisely what. Offered up between her fingers was that pair of tweezers. The same ones I’d used to help myself change since I’d blessedly escaped that god awful tie dye shirt. She’d brought them from home for me. 

“Just in case,” she winked at me. Oh. Now, I felt like an ass. 

I breathed out from my nostrils, releasing the tension in my shoulders, “Thank you.” I even briefly patted the side of her finger as a show of appreciation as I took the object from her. I figured she’d like that, what with her love of touching me all the time.

The sudden thought of her touch and heat and softness completely overwhelming me just moments ago on that other table top made my face flush with shame. 

I hurried inside the changing room, where, luckily, no one could see my changed complexion. 

********** 

I drummed my fingers on the table, just dying for him to throw that tiny curtain aside and reveal himself. Marianne flitted about the room, opening drawers, cabinets and boxes, finding just what she was looking for, all while peering over the rim of her glasses with the keen eye of a master at work. 

Soon she had a lineup of tiny accessories displayed on the vanity table for him to peruse. 

I caught her gaze and mouthed “Thank you”, she nodded warmly and winked, before catching something out of the corner of her eye and gesturing for me to look too. 

That little curtain fluttered with movement, and before I knew it, there emerged one tiny socked foot, then another, with a metal and rubber crutch complimenting their rise and fall. 

Then, my heart skipped.

Hello there, Alexander. 

He looked absolutely incredible, and he wasn’t even fully dressed yet. The slacks sported a flattering pleat down the length of his leg, settling perfectly about his waist. The vest fit beautifully, cinched slightly in the back, the white dress shirt contrasted nicely and the sleeves fit him just right. 

I immediately dropped my chin to the surface of the table to get a closer look. 

He emerged with his head ducked as he gracefully threaded the final button on the vest, the royal blue wool lacing through his lithe little fingers. 

Suddenly, two icy blue irises like crystals of frozen flame were trained on me and I had to bite my lip to keep from embarrassing myself. The blue of the suit made his eyes shine even more brightly than before. 

“It looks like a perfect fit. How does it feel?” He craned his neck to listen to the voice looming above him. He adjusted his shoulders, made sure the vest was perfectly centered, and he toyed with his shirt sleeves until they were just right, before he turned to the full length mirror. 

With my head balanced on my hand, I could just make out a sliver of my face reflected in the tiny mirror over his shoulder. 

Seeing his entire body against the backdrop of one small part of mine reminded me of that first day, when I’d forced him into that ugly little doll shirt and held him up to my bathroom vanity admiring our size difference. That truly felt like a lifetime ago.

Marianne passed him a silky rust colored tie, and I watched with flustered amazement how his fingers expertly worked the flimsy material into a pinprick of a complicated knot, even and perfect. I felt like I was glimpsing into a whole other world of his, a past I only faintly understood. 

With each infinitesimal adjustment of his collar, sweep of his hair, and threading of his tie beneath his vest, I felt myself staring slack jawed at this new version of the little man I thought I’d known so well. 

Now for the jacket. She handed it to him, and he spread the lapels to admire the inner lining (a gorgeous, patterned silk with flowers of purple and blue) when his eyes stopped at something sewn into the collar just as the nape of the neck. 

***** 

I stared at the inside of the jacket, almost in disbelief. 

Sewn with expert precision, were a handful of stitches that unmistakably spelled out “For My Henri”. 

I was flabbergasted. 

Marianne had said he was the love of her life, that they’d built this business together, that he’d encouraged her to use her talents to help others, and this man had been… like me? 

“I-I can’t possibly accept this…” I shook my head, thrusting the beautifully crafted garment away from my body and offering it back up to this kind hearted woman who peered down at me. 

She simply smiled, “Just try it on, at least.” 

She couldn’t be serious. But it would be nice just to try it on for size. She could use it as a reference. I was determined to refuse her offer if she brought it up again, but I saw no harm in at least donning the final piece of the suit, just to see it all together. 

I took a deep breath and easily twirled the garmet over my shoulder, sliding my arms along the silken lining and letting it fall around my body, gazing into the mirror once more. 

Oh, hello there, Alexander. It’s good to see you again, old friend. How I’ve missed you. 

It was beyond perfect. It was the most beautifully crafted suit I’d ever had the pleasure to wear. I looked wonderfully smart. My chest swelled as a small smirk creeped onto my features, threatening to boil over into a boyish grin if I wasn’t careful. 

I refocused the lenses of my eyes to take in Natalie’s gaze, dominating the landscape behind me. Her pupils were dilated, her expression dreamy. I turned to face her, leaving my crutch behind for now. 

I thrust a hand in a pocket, unbuttoning the jacket to show the vest underneath and spun on my heel, feeling altogether like a million bucks. 

“You look… incredible” She practically breathed. The way her eyes shone when she gazed at me… Why did my knees suddenly feel weak at hearing her sigh at me like that? Perhaps I needed my crutch after all. 

“She’s right, you know. It suits you. I suppose I can’t convince you to try on the rest of them can I?” The older woman issued me this challenge with a twinkle in her eye.

Natalie furrowed her brow and cocked her head. As if to say “What could possibly be the problem with that?” 

Of course. She didn’t understand what Marianne and I already did. 

I slid off the jacket and held up its stitching to her. She leaned in so close I could feel the heat of her exhale as she finally managed to squint enough to read the name sewn there.

“Oh, oh my god. So…your… he was…?” Natalie stuttered. 

Marianne nodded, a smile sparkling with decades of memory igniting in her eyes. Eventually, she busied herself with handing me the next suit, this one a beautiful gray, continuing to address Natalie, “He was the best thing to ever come into my life. We found each other when I spent a summer in Paris, a whole lifetime ago. I couldn’t bear to return home without him. Luckily, he agreed to travel halfway across the world to be by my side. It took us a while to come to terms with our feelings, believe me, most people couldn’t possibly understand… especially not in those days. I hope you two don’t let your fear get in the way.” 

My face burned and my mouth felt so dry, my voice cracked as I spoke, “Oh, no, we’re not… we-we—“

Suddenly Natalie’s louder voice tumbled atop mine, cutting me off, as she spoke through a strained smile, “Thank you.” 

I sensed that I’d committed some sort of social faux pas, though I couldn’t understand what. Natalie and I weren’t… that is to say we didn’t have that sort of dynamic. Despite this, I decided to bite my tongue out of a desire to spare Natalie any unnecessary embarrassment. Judging by her bright pink complexion, she was already suffering enough from my attempt to set the record straight. 

I put that interaction out of my mind, though, as I returned to the garments in my hands. I admit, I allowed myself the small pleasure of trying all four of Henri’s suits, each one as beautifully crafted as the last and still in such incredible condition for their age. 

I tried on various loafers, belts, ties and even, to my utter delight, tie clips and cufflinks! 

As a boy coming of age, I’d been repeatedly reprimanded after asking for cufflinks to match my larger counterpart, being told they’d be “much too small to be worth any effort to make them in the first place”. 

Once I’d enjoyed everything those suits had to offer, she asked me to describe what I’d like to have custom made, letting me touch various fabric swatches and color options to help me make my decisions. 

This was all a dream, right? Some sort of beautiful, wonderful dream that I never wanted to wake from? It had to be. Well, if it was all make believe, I supposed asking for what I really wanted wouldn’t hurt any. 

She took notes as Natalie watched on. Why was it every time I turned over my shoulder, she seemed to be looking at me? 

I sat in the chair, pulled beside the vanity, palming the perfectly proportionate cufflinks, and rolling them between finger and thumb. They were so detailed and well crafted I wondered if Henri had made them himself. 

What is wrong with me? These things aren’t mine to take. No matter how wonderful they were. 

I deposited the little metal pieces on the counter beside me, folding my hands in my lap, determined not to fidget anymore. 

As if reading my mind, Marianne travelled around to the side of the table to face me. 

“Well, you’ve been quite the model today.” I nodded in agreement, “I think we’ve put you through more than enough. Now, your custom orders will be shipped to you in approximately ten to twelve weeks. If you need any alterations at all, feel free to come back to the store.” 

What a lovely dream this was. 

She continued, gesturing to those beautiful suits hung along the dressing room the wall, “Which one was your favorite?”

“Oh, well… I couldn’t possibly— they’re all equally wonderful. You possess incredible skill…” 

“I want you to have them.” 

Both Natalie and I let out an incredulous exclamation, in sync with one another: 

“No, no you’re being far too kind—” 

“We couldn’t take them, they belong with you!” 

She shook her head smiling warmly first at Natalie, then to me, “He would’ve wanted them to go to a fine young gentleman who can appreciate every stitch, rather than gathering dust in some box. I’d be honored if you’d take them. Think of it as Christmas coming early!” 

I was completely taken aback, a rush of emotion making my chest swell and my throat tighten as my vision suddenly blurred, “I— I’m at a complete loss for words… T-thank you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Alexander. Thank you for coming to visit today.” She leaned down to offer me her finger to shake. With a trembling hand, and biting back tears, I shook her finger tip, squeezing it much harder than was called for, and yet I didn’t imagine it was enough to hurt her, “I’m delighted you like them so much. Why don’t you wear the blue one home? It was always my favorite. Now I’ll finish packing the rest and will wait for you to check out in the other room.” 

And suddenly, it was just the girl with the wild hair and warm eyes, and me. She caught my gaze, a smile playing on her lips “Surprise!” She chuckled. 

The swell of deep gratitude, delight, overwhelm and pure joy flooded through me once again and I was perilous to keep it at bay. I rushed forward, my leg aching from the effort, as I crashed into her hand, squeezing myself into the hollow of her palm, as I clutched the base of her thumb and wept, mumbling my thanks between tears of joy. 

“Oh, Alexander…” she breathed, gently enclosing her fingers around me, embracing me back. Her index finger on her free hand gently caressed my hair, neck and shoulders as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how hard I tried. She held my chin with her fingertip, wiping tears with her thumb, “I’m so happy you’re happy. You deserve this. I’m sorry it took so long… but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.” She beamed at me. I bit back more tears. She arched her brow and jutted her chin in that mischievous way she always did, “Now pull yourself together and go be all dapper and shit.” She nudged my arm with her thumb. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. 

Before long, I found myself perched on the countertop of Marianne’s desk in the front of the shop, dressed to the nines from head to foot. I wore the blue suit, of course, with brown leather shoes, and belt, a silken ochre tie with matching pocket square, cufflinks, and a tie clip. I stood tall as the women above me exchanged money for goods. 

I felt a lightness in my body and mind that I hadn’t felt in… well, had I ever felt it? I couldn’t be sure. I had to keep biting the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning ear to ear like some stupid little boy. I’d never been spoiled like this. I’d never been treated like this. I had no idea what to do with myself. 

As we were about to leave, Marianne turned to me, her lips curled into a smile. She gazed at me over the rim of her glasses, giving me a clear view of her keen eyes. “Alexander? N'ayez pas peur de lui dire ce que vous ressentez. Il est clair qu'elle t'aime de tout son cœur. Vous méritez le bonheur autant que nous tous.” 

******* 

I had no clue what she’d said to him, but whatever it was, he looked like he’d been shot through with an arrow, after hearing it. His little eyes went wide and his face burned bright red. 

“Hey…” I rubbed his little shoulder, and he seemed to snap out of it. I smiled apologetically at the woman on the other side of the desk, “Sorry, I think he’s just really excited and overwhelmed about everything that happened. Thank you again, for all you did for him.” As I spoke to her, I coaxed the little man into my hand, his movements suddenly sluggish and distracted. 

“It was truly such a wonderful thing to meet a pair like you. You give me hope for a better future. Thank you for coming in today. You’re always welcome back at any time.” 

“Thank you so much, Marianne!” I echoed her warmth. When Alexander stayed silent, I nudged him a little with my thumb and he seemed to come to. 

“Y-yes! Thank you. V-very much!”

What had gotten into him? Maybe the thrill of the whole thing had worn off and he was just exhausted. Because of his dogged determination to push himself to the limits all the time, it was easy to forget how much more effort it took someone of his size to just interact with people so much bigger than him. He was also standing and walking on his injured leg without his crutch for much longer than normal. I wondered if he was in pain and trying to fight through it. 

Whatever the case, I was looking forward to getting him home with me, and giving him a chance to relax. 

I took in the wonderful sight of him lounging in my palm, his head resting on the pad of my index finger, his calves and ankles hanging off the far edge of my palm, his little hands spread against my skin, keeping himself steady. He stared at his tiny leather shoes, and seemed disinterested in looking in my direction. How funny he was. I wondered what on earth was on his brilliant little mind. 

Strange little nightmare, let’s get you home.

___________________________________________

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[watermelonlovershigh]

Returning Favors {part 5.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: when i started this chapter i had intended for it to go in a completely different direction but as i began writing it, i let the words flow and wrote it this way instead. i really hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback and remember to send in things you'd like to see in this series. xoxo

This story contains: mentions of handjobs and blowjobs, slight angst, pillow talk, cunilingus, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - friends to lovers trope - softrry }

word count- 3,459

While making arrangements to introduce your friends to Harry, he seizes the chance to ask about your abrupt departure after your intimate encounter earlier that day. This conversation unexpectedly leads to Harry performing oral sex on you for the first time.

As you make your way around the street corner, you are greeted by your friends, Mave and Charlotte, who are waving you over to the table they had set aside for your brunch. The cafe features a beautiful outdoor space, perfect for the current time of year. Upon joining them, they quickly pick up on your more upbeat attitude. While you typically don't appear gloomy, you have been feeling rather indifferent for the past year. However today, they observe a slight improvement in your mood.

"Hi, Hi." you lean in to kiss each of their cheeks and sit down at the round table.

"We've ordered you a mimosa. Wasn't sure what you wanted to eat so we haven't ordered our food yet though." Charlotte explans.

"Oh, well thank you." you take a sip of your mimosa and moan at how delicious the drink is.

"What's making you so cheerful today? Is it because of Harry?" Mave questions with cheeky smile, aware of your growing connection with your housemate and the recent revelation of your mutual feelings towards one another. Your friends are genuinely happy for you, knowing how long you've been single and how it affected you.

Brushing them off, you answer, "What? A girl can't look happy on a Sunday morning without there being a reason?" But they know you better then that. The aurora you're giving off is one of a girl who's in love. Though they wouldn't tell you that this soon in your relationship with Harry.

"No it's just," Mave starts, "look, we want the details. Did you guys have sex this morning? Because you look like your glowing and it's not from your skincare routine." Her and Charlotte stare you down, waiting for an answer and you know you must give them one. Otherwise they'll never let this conversation rest.

"Alright, alright. We did do some sexual stuff this morning. But not sex. I just kind of gave him a handjob which then turned into a blowjob."

Your two friends are smiling ear to ear at your confession. "And.... what else? Don't tell us he left you high and dry after you literally had his dick in your mouth." Charlotte utters in a hushed yet audible tone, ensuring that you can hear her amidst the bustling traffic and crowd, while hopefully keeping your conversation private from others.

You express with annoyance in your tone, "It wasn't as you think. I woke up to find him cuddling me and noticed he was aroused. Therefore, I chose to assist him. Once he woke up and realized he was hard, he eventually agreed to my help. I began by giving him a handjob under his briefs, but then decided to go further with a blowjob. And he didn't reciprocate because I left quickly after he came. So, I'm unsure whether he would've wanted to do something for me in return."

Mave reaches across the table and playfully swats your arm. "You fuckin' idiot. You should have stayed to see if he would've pleasured you as well. You could've gotten an amazing orgasm out of him."

"Hey," you spit back, "I did have an amazing orgasm this morning. Just... with my vibrator in the shower before I came here." Though you're sure Harry would beat every single one of your toys if you gave him the chance to prove it.

After chatting for a few more minutes you realized just how hungry you were and decided to order your food and another round of mimosas. You catch up on each others lives and make plans for them to come by the house to hang out one night. They have yet to meet Harry and you thought what better way to introduce them than to invite them over for some drinks and maybe a card game. You'll just have to ask him if that would be okay.

-----------------------------

Upon returning home later that evening, you notice Harry seated on the sofa, engrossed in a pile of papers and his laptop resting on his lap. Presumably grading tests, you assume. After placing your bag in the entryway, you make your way over to the couch. Surprisingly, the atmosphere doesn't feel as awkward as you had anticipated, considering the events that unfolded earlier in the day.

"How was your brunch?" Harry questions, shifting to set all of his work onto the coffee table.

"Great. Really fun." you answer before continuing, "So I have a question."

"Hm, so do I actually but go on." Harry replies, taking a sip of his coffee. He doesn't know what your question is but he knows his question is in reference to why you ran off so quickly this morning after you gave him that blowjob. It's been eating at his mind all day and he'd really like some closure so he can relax.

"Okay, so I was thinking we could have a little get-together with my friends, Mave and Charlotte. They're eager to meet you, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to invite them over this upcoming weekend. We can enjoy some drinks and perhaps even play that card game I purchased some time ago but haven't had the chance to play yet."

Harry nods in agreement. "Yeah, sounds great. How about this Friday night? I can stop by the shops on my way home from work and grab some alcohol. Just let me know what kind they prefer." He is genuinely excited to finally meet your friends. Since becoming your housemate, you've kept your personal life mostly private from him. As a result, he hasn't had the chance to meet any of your family members and has only heard stories about your friends.

"Fantastic," you declare, jumping up from the couch excitedly. "I'll call them right away and let them know. They'll be so happy." Just as Harry was about to remind you that he had a question as well, you've already disappeared from his line of sight. Your sudden departures today seem to be a trend. He reckons he'll have to wait a bit longer to find out the reasoning behind your quick exit this morning.

-----------------------------

At approximately ten o'clock at night, you and Harry are lying in your bed, watching reruns of Friends while trying to stay awake. The room is dark besides the glare of the tv and his cat Pixie is nestled in the middle of the bed, sleeping soundly. Although she hasn't always been allowed in your room, ever since Harry started visiting so frequently, you have embraced her presence as well.

Right as your eyes began to shut, you remember how Harry had a question for you earlier but never got to ask it. You didn't mean to run off like you did. You just got excited to call your friends and let them know they're welcomed to come by the house this Friday for the small gathering. Which in turn made you totally forget he had a question in the first place.

"Harry," you say aloud. The call of his name startles him. He'd just dozed off to sleep and your voice pulled him away from the unconsciousness he was about to enter.

"Mhm, what?" he grumbles, eyes half open as he tries to stay awake in order to hear you speak.

"What's your question? You said earlier you had a question but you never got to ask me it."

Harry found himself more awake as he thought about how to bring up his question. To be honest, he was feeling a bit nervous to ask. Even though this question had been on his mind all day, he hesitated to ask, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or create any distance between you. "Um, was just gonna ask why you left so suddenly this mornin'. You know, after you gave me that blowjob? It seemed like you were ashamed of your actions or somethin'. I was plannin' to return the favor, but you left before I had the opportunity to ask."

With heart shaped eyes, you coo softly, "You were?"

"Well yeah. It's only right that I returned the favor you did for me. I'm not a douche bag like some men can be."

"Awe, that's so sweet of you. But um, I don't know. Guess I remembered how I'd just woke up and maybe didn't smell the best down there or that I may have tasted bad from the hours of sleep I was in prior. Just didn't want to disgust you in any way."

With a gentle tone, Harry expressed, "Y/n, your scent or taste wouldn't have been an issue for me. Even if it was there, I wouldn't have mind. Because it's you, and I genuinely care about you. I would have found pleasure in it regardless. If anyone has ever made you feel insecure about the natural smell of your vagina, they are truly right dicks"

Breathing deeply, you sadly admit, "Yeah, I've had some men attempt to go down on me first thing in the morning but complained about the way I smelt or tasted and so, I just didn't want you to do the same as them."

Sliding impossibly close to you, Harry responds back, "Well I'm not those other men. I respect women more than that and I may just have a thing for oral sex. Givin' and receivin'. Plus, it feels even better when you really know and trust the person."

You giggle shyly and except his closeness, the two of you laying on your sides facing each other. "Dick or pussy though?"

"What?" Harry asks with a sleepy smile, unsure of what you're questioning.

"You said you had a thing for oral sex. So do you prefer sucking dick or eating pussy?"

"Mhm, depends on who the person is and my connection to them. Both are great but it also depends on what mood I'm in to give you a solid answer." It's no secret Harry likes men as well. When you first moved in with him he had a short fling with a guy and you assumed he was gay for like the first month. But then when you heard a girl moaning through his bedroom walls, you realized that wasn't the case. The next day you questioned him and he confidently came out as bisexual to you.

Deciding to continue these questions just to see where it could lead, you keep going, "And, what mood are you in right now?"

Harry suddenly became aware of the dense atmosphere, yet he responded truthfully. "Considerin' that I'm currently in your bed, nearly cuddling you, and you happen to possess a vagina, I would say 'pussy.' However, if I were to discover that you possessed a penis, the answer would be 'cock.'"

He moves one of his hands up to cradle the side of your face. It's so incredibly close to his that he can just about taste the mint of your toothpaste. "Good thing I have one of those two options then and I'm not some alien with no genitals at all."

What Harry wants to say is that he'd love you just the same, even if you were a genitalless alien, but he can't. Not yet anyways. So he responds, "Wouldn't change how I feel about you." With the close proximity, you get the sudden urge to surge forward and clash your lips with his. As if he felt this coming, Harry didn't react surprised at all and accepts the kiss. You both realized this is the first time you've kissed each other. You've shared your feelings, your beds, and you've gave him a blowjob. Yet this makes your first time kissing.

Harry intensifies the kiss by gently prodding his tongue against your lips, and you grant him permission to enter. The kiss is wet, rushed, and somewhat messy, yet incredibly enjoyable. After a minute of exchanging saliva, you pull back to take a deep breath and confidently state, "Prove it then. Prove you're in the mood for some pussy."

With surprise written on his face, Harry leans back a tiny bit to make sure he's reading you correctly. "You sure? I don't have to if......" He'd be more than happy to eat you out right here, right now, but he doesn't want you to ask because you feel obligated to agree or because you're in the heat of the moment.

Responding eagerly, you assert, "Yes, I'm sure. But please be quick before I change my mind." The mention of urgency and the potential for a change of mind prompts Harry to swiftly toss the covers back and carefully positions himself between your legs. He gently lifts Pixie from the bed and places her on the floor where she discovers her cat bed near the window sill and resumes her peaceful sleep.

At this very moment, Harry finds himself surprisingly nervous as he positions himself between your legs. Although he has longed to perform oral sex on you, both this morning and in his countless fantasies, the actual prospect of doing so fills him with apprehension that he may not satisfy you adequately. Additionally, he frets over the possibility of being unable to bring you to orgasm.

Curiosity arose within you as to why Harry was taking such a long time, prompting you to prop yourself up on your elbows. From this viewpoint, you observed him fixating on your bottom half, which was concealed by some skimpy shorts you typically sleep in. However, as soon as he notices your gaze upon him, he swiftly reaches up and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs. To his astonishment, you're not wearing any panties which causing Harry to let out a moan upon catching sight of your naked pussy.

Despite the room being enveloped in a soft glow from the television, it remained dimly lit and quiet. Harry couldn't obtain a clear image of your exposed cunt but he could perceive enough to develop a strong liking to it already. However, this attraction isn't solely based on the physical appearance of your vagina, but rather because it's a part of you.

Harry looks up once more to ensure your approval for his actions. With a nod of reassurance from you, he eagerly begins. His mouth envelops your entire pussy, as his tongue moves from your wet entrance to your sensitive clit. The flavor of you on his tongue almost brings him to climax instantly, hands free. This is undoubtedly the best cunt he's ever had. Your skin is incredibly soft and inviting, with only a few short hairs littered around your bikini area from the shave you did two days ago.

As your elbows grow weaker, you find yourself sinking into the comfortable bed below. Harry's tongue skillfully laps up your arousal before focusing on your clit and experimenting with various flicking patterns. Each time his tongue glides over the sensitive nerves, your entire body responds with a powerful jolt of electricity. It's no secret that your clit is extremely sensitive when receiving attention from the right person.

"Oh fuck, Harry. Feels so good." you moan aloud, reaching down to grab onto his curly locks.

You fear he'll tell you not to touch him, but as he briefly moves his mouth away, he commands, "Tug my hair, baby. It feels amazing." Could it be that he just referred to you as 'baby' for the first time? You believe so, and it heightens your arousal even further.

Listening to Harry's wishes, you pull his hair tightly in your fists, causing his face to be nestled against your pussy impossibly closer than before. You begin to move your hips, creating a subtle rocking motion. Although he may feel a slight burning sensation on his scalp due to the intensity of your grip, as he mentioned, he loves the sensation it gives.

A minute more goes by of Harry munching down on your wet pussy when you feel your orgasm nearly bubble over. "I... I'm..." you try to warn but can't even get the words out from how much pleasure you're in. Harry doesn't say a word back, just goes in even harder, more determined to bring you over the edge.

You finally achieve orgasm when he seals his lips around your clit, applying firm and forceful sucks. Your clitoris pulsates within his mouth, causing you to release an animalistic scream as your orgasm sweeps through your body. Your entire body trembles, compelling Harry to firmly hold your hips to keep you in place. He continues sucking on your clit until your orgasm begins to fade and overstimulation sets in.

The hands that once laced in his hair start trying to push his head away. "Har.... Oh God!" you gasp when he gives your tiny nerve a few more kitten licks to make sure he's pulled every ounce of pleasure from you that he can. You lie there trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm as Harry sits up on his knees, breathing heavy with a glossy mouth.

Eager to know, though the answer should be evident with how you look right now, Harry asks, "So.... was I any good? Did that prove what mood I was in to you?"

You glance forward to see a devilish smile plastered on Harry's face and just know he's proud of himself. Which, he should. You don't think you've ever came so hard in your entire life. "Yes," you heave, "Oh God, yes. I'm...., that was, God. That was the best orgasm I've ever had."

"Yeah? You just tellin' me that to boost my ego or are you tellin' the truth?"

"Harry, I quit literally can't feel my bones right now. They're like jello. No man nor any one of my strongest vibrators have made me come that hard. No wonder the ladies liked you."

With the awareness that it's already very late and he has work the next morning, Harry decides to rise from the bed and make his way to the bathroom in the hallway to fetch a damp cloth. Your exhaustion prevents you from mustering the energy to question his actions. When he returns, you immediately recognize what he has and instinctively close your legs, still experiencing discomfort.

Harry takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and lightly taps your thighs, silently requesting you to open up. Reluctantly, you comply. As you feel the damp cloth glide over your swollen pussy, you try to pull away, but he firmly holds you in place with one hand on your hip bone. "Shh, it's alright," he reassures you in a gentle tone. "I'm just gonna clean you up, and then we can sleep, okay?"

As you lie on the bed, you notice Harry's erection prominently displayed through his black briefs and a pang of guilt washes over you for not pleasuring him. "But.......what about you? You're still hard. I could give you another blowjob or handjob. Whatever you want." Despite the tempting offer, Harry is too exhausted to engage in any additional activities tonight. Prior to this moment, he was on the brink of unconsciousness. Consequently, his drowsy state has returned as the explicit actions have ceased.

"It'll eventually go away, Y/n. I've got work in the mornin' and it's past midnight as is. Plus m'too tired to do anythin' more tonight. But, if I wasn't so tired and didn't have work so early, then you bet your ass I'd take you up on that offer."

Harry finishes cleaning between your legs and helps you slip your shorts back on. He then turns the TV off and crawls back into your bed beside you. Though your limbs are still weak, you manage to slide over until your head rests on his bare chest and your top leg is thrown over his hairy thigh closest to you.

As the moonlight glows through your bedroom window, sleep takes over both of you as the world around becomes quiet. The only sounds that can be heard are Pixie's soft purring from her location on the floor, the steadiness of Harry's heartbeat, and your exhails of breath.

In your dreaming state, you're still excited for the arrival of this upcoming Friday where you eagerly await the moment when your friends will finally have the chance to meet Harry. With high hopes for a successful gathering, you envision a joyous time ahead. Unbeknownst to Harry, the card game planned for the small get-together holds an R rating, implying that it will serve as an opportunity for everyone to bond and deepen their connections without the need for uncomfortable conversations in the future. Plus, mixed with the alcohol, you can't wait to find out some of Harry's dirty secrets.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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My Masterlist Masterpost

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

[apomaro-mellow]

Two in the Bush 2

Part 1

Steve called them both separately and arranged a meet up at Benny’s. As the hour drew closer, he felt himself getting more nervous. He had only wanted a baby. He didn’t really care about the alpha who would give him said baby. They were an afterthought. And really, neither Billy nor Eddie seemed like strong father figures, he had to admit. Both were rough around the edges in different ways.

Billy was more aggressive, which made for great sex but nothing about him seemed paternal. The few times they talked about their lives, it was clear to Steve that his own father had been lacking. And the same could be said about Eddie, who was as impulsive as he was flighty. He was definitely the more romantic of the two but that wasn’t saying much.

His relationship with both was mostly physical. He’d never even brought up pups because who would mention that desire to a fuck buddy that they’d known for less than a year?

Best case scenario, neither of them wanted anything to do with it and Steve would be able to freely raise his pup with Robin’s help. He didn’t feel the need for a DNA test, the two alphas looked so different, Steve was sure he’d be able to eventually tell who the father was.

But telling two bullheaded men that one of them had fathered your child could be…Steve was going to use the word interesting. He didn’t think either of them wanted to raise a kid. But their alpha instincts might see the other as a competitor. Nevermind the fact that this was never exclusive. 

Steve got to Benny’s early, ready to mediate. Robin offered to be there as well, but Steve wanted it to start just between the three of them. Steve got a booth and just about ten minutes later, both Eddie and Billy arrived at the same time. Steve hid his smile behind the glass of juice he drank. It was almost like they had coordinated outfits. Billy wore leather pants and a denim jacket, while Eddie had a leather jacket and jeans.

They both stared at each other, then walked to the booth where Steve sat.

“Is this some kind of set up?”, Billy accused.

“Just sit, the both of you”, Steve said, pointing to the space across from him.

They took a moment to glare at each other before doing just that. Steve took a breath as a waitress came by to take their orders now that the whole party was here. He’d joked with Robin about getting them to pay for his meal, but now he felt too anxious. His stomach was twisted into knots. 

“I called you both here today because-”

“Wait, wait, wait, the first thing you should be doing is introducing us”, Eddie said. “I don’t even know who this guy is, or why we’re sitting on the same side.”

Billy looked Eddie up and down. “If this is your way of asking for a threesome, sorry to say, I don’t fuck alphas.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Billy this is Eddie, Eddie, this is Billy.”

“Okay”, Eddie frowned at Billy. “I second the ‘no threesome thing’.”

“Do you really think that’s why I invited you to a diner?”, Steve looked at them, incredulous.

“So if this isn’t a booty call then what is it, Harrington?”, Billy asked.

Well, here goes nothing. “I’m pregnant.”

…

“And one of you might be the father.”

….

“Um-”

“So you’re trying to baby trap us, is that it? What happened to keeping it casual?”, Billy’s scent was already starting to stink up the booth.

“Baby trapping implies I wanted to trap either of you”, Steve frowned. “I don’t see good fathers sitting across from me right now.”

“Ouch. Harsh”, Eddie said.

“Yeah, well, it’s the truth.” Steve crossed his arms. “I’m only telling you because I think you have a right to know. But I don’t need help raising this baby.”

“So you’re keeping it?”, Billy asked.

“Yes, I’m keeping.”

“Hey, just asking, it’s the twenty-first century. You’re not required to go through with it anymore”, Billy said with his hands up.

“Well I want to. I’ve always wanted to”, Steve admitted. “I’m keeping my pup and raising them and I don’t need anything from either of you. Not money or involvement or anything.”

“Shucks, it sounds like you don’t think we’re even capable”, Eddie said. “I think I’m starting to feel offended, what about you, Blondie?”

“Billy. And it doesn’t just sound like he thinks we’re incapable. Sounds like he thinks we’d be shit dads.”

“Hey, I make judgments based on what I see.”

“And you’ve only seen our dicks”, Eddie challenged. “We could be smash hits when it comes to being dads and you’d have no idea.”

“I can handle a bachelorette party of twenty, I could probably handle a kid”, Billy said, nonchalant now.

“A pup’s a hell of a lot different from mixing some drinks. OR fixing up a car”, Steve said before Eddie could retort.

“I wasn’t going to say that”, Eddie argued. “I was going to say that being a mechanic shows how patient and nurturing I can be.”

“Patient and nurturing? You?”, Steve raised a brow.

“Yeah!”

“I’ve literally seen you curse out that one kid at your job.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Dustin’s in college, he’s hardly a kid.”

“Either way, neither of you are ready for this”, Steve said.

“And you don’t think we could be ready in nine months?”, Billy asked.

Eddie grinned. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you guys even want to raise this pup with me? What if it’s not even yours?”, Steve asked.

Eddie smirked at Steve, then Billy. “I mean, it’s a 50-50 chance, right?”

“Right”, Billy said.

And then they fist bumped each other and Steve just now realized he had lost control of the conversation. He didn’t know if he was mad or happy at the conclusion they’d come to. More than anything, he was just confused. When he got home, Robin was there, ready to dish.

“So how’d the baby daddy react?”

“Daddies?”

“Huh?”

“Daddies, Robin. I have two baby daddies.”

Part 3

[bon2bonn]

Flowers to you

Words count : 1.6k

*First life update!🌷 with little Mari, the firstborn of the Leclerc-Sainz clan .

The Small grunts made Carlos smile in amusement, slowing his steps a bit for his determined daughter to catch up with . her steady pace was due to the big bouquet she was holding onto for dear life , refusing to let anyone else hold it or even come close to touch it , a special gift for her Mama , insisting on each colour , type and even made sure to ask politely if they could wrap it in blue wrapping papers .

That's why now she's carefully making her way up to the front door supporting her precious flowers , pausing every now and then to adjust her small hands around it and huffing dramatically as she tried to and failed to blow away strands of hair that stubbornly fell over her face but that won't hinder her from doing what she planned to.

Carlos chuckled at her struggling form , asking softly " you want some help there Mari? " , she shook her head or at least tried , answering confidently " non papa , I got it! " he hummed unlocking the door to let her get in first before he did the same , both taking off their shoes before heading to the kitchen when they took notice of the quiet house, making sure to not make too much noise in order to maintain the peace. Both washed their hands and made their way to the counter, where she stood on on her stall , a set of steps for her to reach the counter, the sink ....etc , patiently waiting for her father to get one of her favourite vases down for them to work on.

" So , miss Mari what do we do first ?" Carlos asked with his hands on his hips, feigning confusion making her shake her head dramatically, pointing at the vase then at the counter " the vase , papa! Did you forget already ? " His face broke into a grin as he set the vase on the counter where she leaned over to inspect the inside and nodded in approval, then he turned again to grab his wife's clippers , waiting as little Mari carefully unwrap the flowers and untangle the secure knots at the stems, taking out one at a time to hand over to him to clip out the excess leaves , shorten the stems before taking them back to arrange into the vase to her liking.

She hummed a tone as she took one from his hand delicately adding it to the rest before picking another from the pile, nodding at her work with a focused look on her face , her brows creasing as she took out one that she didn't like and put it aside before proceeding, and once she's done she took out the blue ribbon out of her pocket , the lady on the counter was kind to give her a one to match with the wrapping , saying it was for good luck , so she now took it and wrapped it around the vase , asking with frown for her Papa's help when she couldn't make the knot as neet as she wanted, then she leaned back a bit to give it a final inspection, Carlos crossed his arms over the counter where he leaned on it after putting everything away and cleaned the remains of leaves and wrapping paper " so , what do you think miss Mari ? You think Mama would like them ? " She nods confidently her small hands on the counter " Mama will love them , they're her favourite and , we made it with love because, we love Mama , so she'll love them " he propped his head on his hands with his elbows still on the counter and asked in amusement " and how much do we love Mama ? " She gave him a wide grin answering " as much as I love papa " making him ask again " and how much do you love papa? " She held out her hands giving an exaggerated measure "as much as there is stars on the whole whole universe" he placed his hand over his heart Groaning dramatically " too sweet , ugh ! My Mariposa is too sweet what should I do !" He then scooped her up spinning around the counter , emitting a loud laugh out of her as her hair fell all over her face " papa! My hair! " He placed her down and sighed in content " alright how about we wash our hands and go show Mama what we made ? " Her face lit up and she hurriedly made her way to wash her hands, dried them and waited for him to do the same , he teased her by doing so slowly making her groan impatiently and throw her head back , just like her mother .

He then picked her with one arm and grabbed the vase with the other on their way out , heading up the stairs for the master bedroom where they left her resting before going out .

Her second pregnancy was a difficult one to say the least , suffering from long restless nights accompanied with back pains up to high blood pressure overall it was a complicated one , and on her latest appointment her doctor finally declared she needs to be on bed rest for the remaining period of the pregnancy, strongly advising them to change the birth plans to surgical option, to avoid any complications or risks as she put it, trying not to alarm the already stressed couple, but precautions are a must with her condition , specially through the last stages of it .

The moment they stepped into the room their daughter exclaimed at the sight of her reading peacefully with raised arms " Mama! " Making her look up , a smile lit up her face as she was greeted with them standing before her, with little Mari barley containing her excitement as Carlos set her down on the bed , leaning over to greet her with a kiss " hi" she smiled at the kiss , greeting back a quiet " hey " then leaned back to open her arms for a big hug from little Mari who crawled her way up to wrap her arms around her neck, leaving a kiss on her Mama's cheek and cuddled into her arms humming as she asked her " how was your trip ? ", both parents grins in amusement as she perked up in a burst of excitement pointing at the bedside table where Carlos put the vase earlier " look mama , we got your favourite " , she admired the blooming flowers along with the baby blue ribbon around it , appreciating the effort they put into it and turned to her " I love them baby " leaning to kiss her on the cheek " and the blue ribbon too " Mari's smile widened at that as she gently patted her Mama's belly " it's for Mateo " then she leaned down to leave a kiss on the side of it, speaking quietly to the baby " hi Mateo , we brought you and mama flowers today , I'm sure you're gonna like them when you're here , Mama liked them and I did too so I'll get some for you too , okay? " she promised unaware of the knowing look shared between her parents , they didn't reveal the baby's gender yet , but , Mari decided long ago that it's going to be a boy , even declaring his name to be Mateo just like she remembered from the dream she had , stubbornly refusing to settle on anything else .

Carlos then gave a sound of protest " what about me !? where's my kiss? , I did help! " his wife looked at her daughter in question , who in turn gave her a wide grin " he did Mama " making Carlos look at her pointedly, she then opened her arms for him , and he didn't waste time leaning over to receive a kiss on his cheek, then he turned his head to steal one from her lips , before leaning down to place another on her belly, before moving to the end of the bed to take her feet into his lap , massaging them to relieve some of the aches .

Meanwhile Mari leaned over to not so quietly whisper to her Mama with a frown on her face " Mama " receiving a humm before she proceeded in a serious manner making her mother frown in turn " what's wrong baby ?" Making her answer with a solemn look as she recalled her conversation with her uncle " I think thuthu is right " her mother then asked curiously, knowing her youngest brother's antics " really? And what did he say this time ? " She answered with a pout " papa is forgetting things , he didn't know what to do earlier !! , and thuthu said that means papa is getting old " that made Carlos snap his head their way , his smile fell and a frown on his face , his eye twitched as he called out in denial over his wife's loud snickers " AY ! I'm not old ! , he's lying! " He then glared at his wife who was cackling when their daughter innocently answered back with a sympathetic nod " he said old people say that too " .

[ms--lobotomy]

platonic malcador x reader??? he's such a girldad and we could be some imperial agent or smthn I don't really mind as long as I get that SWEET SWEET cute grandpa moments bc I know you will always cook

Howdy! Sorry this one's so late, I was finishing my degree so requests kind of fell off the face of the earth for a bit. I'll try to get a good portion of them done, though! Enjoy!

Summary: Talking shit with your honorary girldad Malcador

Word Count: 744

Content Warnings: No clear base coat for doing nails, sue me. Implied malcemps, if you squint, and also the implication that reader has sister(s).

Image Credit: @squishyowl

It wasn't often that you got to take some time for yourselves. But your particular order of inquisitors had a meeting today, and you were going to look good for it. So you'd excused yourself to your temporary quarters, sent a quick vox message to your friend, and waited on a response as you threw on whatever caught your eye and arranged a few colors of nail polish for the two of you to choose from.

Hey Malc, I have a bit of time before the meeting today. Wanna do our nails? Cool. Thanks. You signed off with your name, sinking back into your chair and sitting there for a second.

The walls felt like they were closing in on you. Sure, these were temporary quarters, but this room felt more like a closet than a temporary accommodation. You were hunched over the dresser, fixing your hair when you heard a knock at the door. Your head snapped around. A yawn was audible through the door, and you grinned.

"I haven't got all day," he said. You could hear the smile in his voice as you headed over to the door, opening it with a slight creak. His breathing was loud, but nothing out of the ordinary for him, and he carried a stunningly large staff. It almost didn't fit through the door, but as he made his way in, he made it work.

"Malc!" you exclaimed. "Come in, if you can fit-"

"This used to be a closet," he mumbled. He made his way to the chair that you'd set out for him, something that much mismatched the one you had taken for yourself. "Looks like they're putting people just anywhere these days."

"Oh," you said. If you were friends with the Sigilite, you didn't want to know how the others of your order were rooming. You blotted the thought out of your head, and turned to the set of nail polish you'd set out.

"So we have green, and teal, and..."

"Green."

You blinked. You ran a finger over the crimson red nail polish, but his eyes were set on the cool green polish at the very front of the row.

"Green it is," you said, as you slid the green over to him and took the red for yourself.

"No, no, I want to do each other's," he said. There was a softness to his voice, one that was always reserved for private interactions between the two of you.

"Sure!" you exclaimed, switching the red and the green before laying down some paper towels to catch any overflow. He watched with bemusement as you hurriedly took out the green polish and rolled up his sleeves, placing his bony hands against the paper towels.

"What's the rush?" he asked as you started to paint the first stripe onto them.

"Rush?" you asked. "Weren't you the one who said you didn't have all day or something?"

Malcador sat back in his chair. Despite it being the sturdier option, it made a slight creaking noise. "I did," he said, his eyes closing as you worked with the first layer. "I've just never had any daughters, is all."

You paused for a second before continuing to swipe color across his fingernails. "No daughters?" you asked, looking up at him incredulously. "You're Perpetual, right? You've had all the time in the world to... uh..." you trailed off before clearing your throat. "My bad."

He smiled a wry smile. "You could say the Primarchs were partially my doing, yes," he said. "I wanted girls, you see. Much less arguing, and activities like this are more likely to be in the picture."

"Less arguing?" you smirked before bursting into full on laughter. "Clearly you never grew up with any sisters." You tilted the paper towel a little bit as you moved onto his right hand, painting it just as carefully as you'd painted his left. Silence filled the room for a moment before he spoke again.

"None of the Primarchs ever did my nails," he said with a hint of playful spite to his voice. "Even the ones we found early. Horus was always too important for things like this."

"Horus, huh?" you asked before the next words flew out of your mouth without much thought. "Guess I'm just better than him."

"Be careful saying that," he replied as you finished his pinky. "But do say that in front of him. I want to know how it goes."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[qin-qin16]

Ooo, I do not have anything specific but doing something silly or fun with either Killer or Ink (or both but like idk how you'd manage that?? shrug lol)👉👈

(I put anon on, but you will know who this anyway LOL prob)

cw.: Cat coded Ink, gn!reader, Ink drinks the pink vial and becomes an affectionate kitty, is more platonic than anything, Reader is curious about the effects each vial has and Ink is delighted in showing them… 

note: I decided to write about him because I have just one work for him :( my boy needs more love! I may write about Killer later, who knows…

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't tell me, I want to guess." You arrange the vials in front of you once more, lined up in the order of the rainbow, starting with red and going to purple. You place the ones that don't fit the rainbow scale, like pink and white, in a separate section.

"To be honest, I was expecting more colors. If these are what regulate your emotions, shouldn't there be, I don't know, maybe thirty of them?" You ask casually, examining one of the vials more closely between your fingers. You notice that, even when closed, there's still a faint smell of fresh paint coming from them.

"That's not the case! I take them all at once several times a day, and the combination of them is what creates various emotions," he explains, picking up one of the vials — you notice it's the red one, "These are just the primary or simpler emotions, like anger, sadness, joy, that sort of thing. It's the mix of all of them that makes me feel."

You chuckle, raising one eyebrow slightly.

"If it's that simple, then I guess red must be anger." You tilt your head toward the vial in Ink's hands. Your smile widens when he nods, his grin matching yours.

"That is right! And blue is for sadness, yellow is for joy, and—"

"I told you not to tell me!"  Just like many times before, your hand covers his mouth, stopping him from continuing, "Okay, okay, three are already out of the game." Seeing him nod — your hand still covering his mouth — you start examining the remaining vials in front of you.

Naturally, the ones that draw your attention the most are the ones set apart from the rest: the white and pink one. Maybe white is for tranquility? It seemed like the simplest guess — likely designed to help Ink guess them easily when he forgot.

With your other arm, you reach for the pink vial, inevitably moving away from Ink’s mouth.

“I have no idea what this one does,” he says as you lift the closed test tube above your heads, inspecting the liquid against the light.

“Neither do I,” you reply, rotating the vial in your hands before turning it toward Ink. “Drink it.”

Without a second thought, he takes the vial from you, uncapping it with his thumb and gulps down the pink liquid. You turn your face away as he drinks, still feeling a bit uneasy every time he eats or drinks something (how is it even possible for skeletons to swallow anything?).

“So? How do you feel?” When you finally turn around, you’re startled to see Ink so close to you, “Whoa! Hey…” An awkward laugh escapes your lips.

“I feel good…” You’ve never heard him speak like that — kind of mumbled and soft.

Before you can ask any more questions, Ink rests his head between your neck and shoulder, quickly wrapping his arms around your torso and pressing his body closer to yours. You can feel his ribs through your clothes, as well as the gentle rub of his skull against your neck.

“I would say you feel more clingy than good…” Your hands stay away from him, unsure where to place or what to do with them.

“I don’t know, I just want to be close to you,” he whispers against your skin, giving a gentle squeeze before relaxing his embrace again.

“Is this some kind of, I don’t know, affection vial or somet— are you purring?” A faint, gradually increasing sound like a motor came from Ink’s chest, traveling up his spine to his jaw and vibrating against your skin.

“You’re so warm, so soft…” Now you understood why he drank them all at once; it was clearly some kind of side effect from drinking an entire vial without the others to regulate it.

With little choice, you rest your hands on him, one moving to the back of his neck and gently caressing it — he emitted a sharp chirp as you did — while the other trails down his skeletal shoulders, lightly fidgeting with a part of Ink’s large brown scarf.

You let Ink pull you onto his lap, adjusting your position quickly so you remain facing each other, closely pressed together..

Before Ink buries his face in your shoulder again, he looks up at you — one of the rare moments when your eyes meet his eye sockets in a fixed staring —, with his chin resting softly against your chest.

Two pink hearts stare back at you, and you can’t help but feel a warm flush on your cheeks as you notice the rapid thump-thump of your own heartbeat.