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lovethegenuine · 30 days ago

Text

Cut From the Same Cloth.

Art by: urinecrust on tiktok!

Read it on ao3! (kudos appreciated)

pairing: stalker/human!hector x afab/stalker!reader

Summary: An alternate reality where you've taken up stalking your next-door neighbor, Hector, only to find out he has the same sick and filthy obsession for you.

Warnings: Obviously +18, this is literally porn in essay format. non-con voyeurism (hector hides under your bed), oral sex, pnv sex, mutual stalking, biting/marking. Let me know if I missed something!

Notes: I love writing alternate realities, so don't kill me. I wanted to stalk him as much as he did for the player. Hector has me WHIPPEDDDD he's been all over my fyp so I cracked my fingers and got to fucking WORK. Originally, this was gonna be a series, but I already have a series going, and I can't focus on one thing to save the life of me, so one-shot it is! If this gets a good amount of attention, I'll consider turning this into a series. (more notes at the end for no spoilers!)

Word Count: 5.0k

Additional Notes: need that submissive hvac system

You'd always been the obsessive type.

As a kid, you would often become attached to various things, alive or material. It never did get better as you got older. In fact, the right person would consider it worse than before. However, you weren't the right person. If anything, you thought of yourself as charming. Wouldn't it be nice to be worshipped? To be loved beyond comprehension? This was always your way of justifying a lot of your weird behaviors. And it was the same for your new obsession: your next-door neighbor.

You had only seen him once, when you ran into him while leaving your home. You had given him a smile possibly too wide that he returned with a flushed face and pouted lips. That was more than enough for you to fall for him. He avoided you like the plague after, but given that you both lived side by side in an apartment building, you could hear him plenty, and you reveled in this.

All the times he spoke, coughed, or cursed. You heard it. The walls weren't thin enough to distinctly make out words, but you knew what his voice sounded like, and that's what mattered to you. Even on the nights when he moaned out just a bit too loud, you heard and cherished it.

After a month of having your new crush, you had already collected two beloved keepsakes—a recording of his moans and a piece of mail addressed with his full name.

Hector Valentino Airnesto Condicionado.

Sort of a mouthful, not that you minded. But, for the sake of quickened pleasure, you preferred to moan just his first name as you dreamt of all the ways you could confess to him.

Hector, I love you.

Hector, I need you.

Hector, let me be yours as you are mine.

Never mind the fact that you had only witnessed his existence once. Still, you continued to trace the outline of what little memory you had of him in your mind. From his brown skin, curly hair, and bushy eyebrows, to his crooked nose and faded mustache. You didn't care if these were the only traits you could recover. It was a blessing to you, nonetheless, and got you off many times.

You did, however, start to wonder if he was genuinely avoiding you, given that you never saw him again after you'd seen him in the hallway. If it weren't for the occasional sneeze or cough, you would have thought he was dead.

You did attempt to take it upon yourself to perform several wellness checks on Hector, but you could never catch a time when his door wasn't attentively locked.

Were you ugly? Was your smile too tense? Weren't you easy on the eyes? Didn't he want to see you too?

Every time you questioned yourself, it made you hot with anger. Can he see how fucking hopeless it made you to live without him? How crazy you became just at the idea of him? You started to suspect that he'd been depriving you of his presence on purpose.

He liked it—loved it, actually, to see you wallow and sulk around like a lost puppy. It was a test; you were sure of it. A test to see if you needed him as severely as you said you did.

After a whole day of working at your customer service job, you became especially riled up. You passed by his door as you did daily, but this time you stopped. Hector continued to stay hidden in the confinements of his home. Shifting your feet, you placed yourself directly in front of what now looked like the gates of heaven to you. You let one gentle fist raise as you contemplated the idea of giving his door a knock. Would he answer? What would you say if he did? I love you?

You eventually gave up and trailed back home, still yearning for just one interaction.

As you lay awake in your bed that night, you recounted that same series of questions you were forced to ask with no answer to follow. As you stirred in your anger, you slowly let your hand trail down to the waistband of your shorts. You teased yourself, pretending as if Hector was the one controlling the pace. Once you eventually let your hand enter your pants, you danced around the fold of your lips, gently dipping your fingers in and out, not yet probing yourself as you continued with your odd fantasy.

"Please, Hector. Let me feel you." You shuttered.

You hoped for a second that he'd manifest from the darkness of your apartment to take care of you. You wished so badly that he'd sense your pain and ease you with a pleasure only he could provide. If only he'd take control.

What did he smell like? What were his hobbies? Did he think you were pretty? What would he say as he fucked you? Would he be sweet or controlling? Honestly, just getting to know what he felt like would've been a gift alone. Was it bigger in width or length? Did his erection have a curve? What made him hard? What did he prefer in a partner? It didn't matter. You could become anything he wanted you to be at the drop of a hat. You'd do anything.

You eventually became so bothered that you lost control and began penetrating yourself. With two filthy fingers, you found yourself stretched around your digits as you continued to call out for Hector.

That is, until you heard his voice.

It was soft but close enough that you heard exactly what he said.

Your name in a soft whimper.

You thought for a second that you might've been mistaken, considering how close it was. It sounded crystal clear, like he was in the room with you. You put your masturbation on pause as you contemplated your sanity. Were you so pent up with lust that you started to have audible hallucinations?

Then came a soft exhale. It was crisp, not like the muffled quality you were so used to. In fact, you had half a mind to believe it came from under you. In all honesty, if Hector really were under your bed, you would jump for fucking joy. Just the idea made you shiver with delight. So, for fun, you decided to take a look.

You gathered yourself out of bed and bent under to take a peak. Aside from the occasional dust bunnies, the space under your bed was usually clear. On any night, you could look under and see the moonlight reflect off the floor across the other side. However, there was now a black mass in place of the empty space. It took your eyes a second to not only adjust but comprehend what was in front of you. When you eventually did, you were met with the awkward face of,

Hector.

His eyes were wide like a deer in headlights, frozen in place, waiting for your reaction.

You took a short breath, letting your body fall back in disbelief.

He took this as disgust and immediately fumbled awkwardly from under your bed.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll leave. I'm leaving now." He couldn't even look at you as he rambled on, apologizing profusely as he scrambled to fix himself.

He was touching himself. Not just anywhere, but under your bed. It was perverted, disgusting, horrific even. But above all things, it was filthy.

And it was your type.

Just as Hector was about to rush out of your room, you grabbed hold of the cuff of his jeans. It made him trip slightly, but it also got his attention. He looked back at you, angling his head downward to meet your eyes. He'd been so quick with his attempted exit that you hadn't really gotten a chance to look at him. Now that he was out from under the shadows of your bed, you could take in his appearance, just as you did the first day you met him.

His face was flushed, presumably with embarrassment. He looked at you like he was about to pass out. This was accompanied by his ragged breath and shaky legs. It was cute, just as you knew he would be.

"Why are you rushing to leave?" You pleaded.

You'd finally gotten what you had wished for: mutual attraction. Which is what you also assumed he'd hoped for. So you couldn't understand why he would even fathom leaving you again.

"Don't you want me to?" He squeaked.

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

"Did I say that? Come on, don't do this to me, Hector." You begged. It was slightly pathetic, but you were shamelessly desperate, and not an ounce of you could care less.

He raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised. You continued to look up at him, waiting for him to do anything. Letting go of his cuff, you watched the gears seemingly turn in his head. He looked at the exposed window in your room for a breath and then shuffled his feet to face you. You almost lost your breath as he squatted down to your level, his face now inches from yours. You felt your jaw falter as you became lost in his appearance. His mustache was fuller than before, as were his eyebrows. His brown skin was glossed with sweat that you knew would taste just as delicious as it smelled. One more second, and you would've taken your tongue to lick up the sweetness that seeped from his flesh.

He turned away from you with the same pouty lips he had in the hallway.

"Please, don't stare at me. I can't tell if you're disappointed or not." He mumbled.

His voice was meek. You could tell he wasn't much of a stand-up guy, given how hesitant he was in front of you. Was this the test? Was he behaving like this to see if you really were desperate? You finally had him, or would eventually have him. Not only that, but he presented himself to you. How sweet was he to not only return your affection but to stay.

"Disappointed?" You hurriedly closed the gap between you. With one swift motion, you took your tongue and slid it across his shut lips.

This was your way of giving your beloved consent, not that you felt he needed it. If he wanted you, he could've had you.

You leaned away for a moment to catch a glimpse of his reaction. He fell back, unable to handle his weight after your cheeky taste. He then lifted a shaky hand to cover his now immensely flustered expression.

"I've seen you already, haven't I? Hector. Valentino. Airnesto. Condicionado." You made sure to emphasize how well-known he was to you. How much care you had put into getting to know him with what little material he'd given you.

"If I was disappointed, would I be so eager to fuck you?" You leaned back into Hector's bubble, letting your hot whispers caress his slick neck.

You felt him shift under you with one nervous whimper. The faint light from the lamp on your bedside reflected off his sticky neck. Just one more inch and your teeth would collide into his sweet skin, finally getting to know what he tasted like.

"Ah, you, uh, know my full name." He sighed, his voice trembling with every word.

"Is that bad?" You replied without a beat, taking a moment to look at him from under his chin.

He fumbled over his words, taking quick looks at you before averting his eyes with growing embarrassment.

"No. It's just, well." You knew he had more to add to that thought; however, you became too impulsive at the moment.

Letting your greedy mouth take control, you began to suck at the side of Hector's neck. With every suckle, you listened as he attempted to put his thoughts into words rather than gibberish.

"God, I can't, my love, when you, please..." He tried to push you off with one weak hand to no avail.

He tasted rather salty in a way that made sense to you. It was gritty, rich, and a bit sour. Overall, it wasn't a bad taste by any means.

"I can't, I can't meet you like this." He whined.

"I'm sorry for being so desperate. Fuck!" He let out a tiny yelp once you added your teeth.

Once you had finished sucking, you unlatched your teeth from his neck. You looked at the spot you'd been working on to find a dark, purplish hickey in its place. A disgusting grin spread across your lips as you admired your creation.

As if you'd sucked out all of his energy from one kiss, he fell back now with his body entirely on the floor and under you. Seeing him sprawled out on your floor was practically a dream come true. What would you do with him first? Get to know him or get straight to business?

"This isn't how it was supposed to go!" Hector whined again, his body trembling as he attempted to slide out from under you.

"I was supposed to take you out first, get to know you, make your night. I was supposed to court you like a gentleman!" He haphazardly cupped one side of his face with one hand as he moved up.

You countered his attempts by stepping over him with every shuffle backward.

"Please, my love. I can't have you like this." He pleaded with you.

"You're a hypocrite, you know that, Hector?" You chuckled.

"You need to court me? Be a gentleman? Do gentlemen hide under the beds of the people they plan to pursue?"

He'd crawled out to the middle of your living room, making no progress in the sheepish attempt to escape from under you.

"I'm sorry, I truly meant to be patient, but after countless nights of hearing you moan my name, it was hard to stay forbearing." He finally looked up at you, meeting your eyes with a sulking expression.

"I don't need your apologies. Neither do I need you to woo me properly." You knelt your head back down to meet him almost at his lips.

"Wanna know the best way to win me over?" You snarled with bated breath.

Hector eagerly nodded his head.

"With every ounce of my being." He whispered back at you.

You cut the remaining inch between you and planted a gentle kiss on his warm yet dry lips.

"Fuck me." It was rather forward, but there was no other way to say it. You needed him.

He followed your lips as they left his, yearning to meet them again in the middle.

"Ok, I can, I can do that for you." He mumbled, returning the kiss with a more hastened attitude.

You found a comfortable spot on his lap as you finally laid your body onto Hector. With the way that you were positioned, you could feel the outline of his hard-on prodding at your pussy through the fabric of both his and your pants. It was wonderful—this moment of intimacy you could finally behold. You were on top of your cherished next-door neighbor, and kissing him at that.

After a minute of tender kisses, Hector let his hands finally touch you. Your whole body shivered as they began to roam across whatever exposed skin you had. He started at your shoulders, and soon his fingers traced down your arms, then to your back, where he rolled up the bottom of your loose tank to travel up your spine. You had planned to take advantage of the position you were both in by exploring every inch of Hector's skin, but he kept you low to him while slowly working towards eliminating your tank top. You let a series of small moans spill from your lips into the kiss. You felt his lips curl into a cheeky smile before you had to break the contact to finally remove your top.

"Contain yourself, my love. We haven't even started." Hector chuckled, still slightly awkward, but he was beginning to become more charming nonetheless.

Your chest was now exposed to him, given that you weren't ever wearing a bra. He tried to take a good look to marvel at the shape, but soon he became preoccupied again with marrying his lips against yours. So, he left it up to his hands to get to know every inch of them. He fondled your breasts with such a gentle touch that it was almost as if he believed they would shatter if he were to apply any more pressure.

You broke the kiss, which earned you some complaints in the form of whimpers from Hector. While it was cute, you paid no mind to it. Instead, you became concerned with something else: the skin under his shirt. He kept his warm hands on your breasts, groping and pinching at the tips of your nipples while you slid your hands under his top. Your fingers slowly started to become acquainted with the details of his exterior. This was, however, a challenging feat to accomplish because, with every pinch Hector gave your nipples, you tensed up with unfathomable pleasure. You felt your arms stall at his chest hair as you tried to twirl the hairs between your fingers to no avail. You didn't think you would ever be this sensitive, but soon you found yourself trembling from his comforting touch.

"Something wrong?" He cooed.

You could only whimper in response, which was pleasantly pathetic. The palms of his now increasingly hot hands slid off your delicate chest, down the sides of your quivering torso, finally finding themselves at the waistband of your shorts. With one sly finger, he tugged at the fabric, watching—waiting for your reaction.

You didn't realize it, but you'd closed your eyes shut, and it didn't occur to you until you had felt the sensation of his fingers creeping into your pants. You looked at him with eager eyes that he read immediately. Sitting up, Hector shifted his arms to cradle you as he turned the tables on you. You soon found yourself in the position he was in just a moment ago, under you. Your bare back lightly hit the cold floor, and once you were settled, he began to remove not only your shorts but your underwear as well. It was apparent that he was just as anxious to get what he'd wanted, just as you were.

"I do want to apologize for my growing absence, my beauty." He was practically salivating as he knelt down to face the entrance of your aching core.

You tried to keep a keen eye on Hector by elevating your body with your elbows, but you became so nervous that your head fell back, leaving everything he did as a surprise.

He parted your folds with two fingers and began to practically talk into your entrance.

"It was, embarrassing, to even consider showing my face after our premature meeting."

His hot breath played with the sticky skin of your cunt. With every flattering word that hit your filthy flesh, you grew more flushed and impatient. He was just as desirous but enjoyed watching you yearn for whatever—however he planned to please you. He was certainly at your service, but he planned to take his time just relishing in this newfound intimacy. He toyed with the idea of making you beg, but his lust was already unbearable. Besides, he couldn't fathom the thought of your sad puppy dog eyes as you whined for his touch. He didn't need the confirmation. Hector already knew how badly your body craved his. After all, he'd spent nights listening to your desperate yet soft cries of delectation. He couldn't bear to listen to them any longer.

With his searing tongue, Hector began to indulge in your flesh. You both had more to say to each other, but with the growing tension in the air, neither of you could take it. So straight to business it was.

Pleasure took control of you in the form of various sounds and twitches. Your hands attempted to grasp at the solid floor while your toes curled over themselves. As Hector sampled every inch of your cunt, he took one of your legs and applied it onto his shoulder. He couldn't determine if he wanted to savor your reaction or taste. For the most part, it was both. While he worshipped you with his tongue, he made sure to revel in every whimper, every moan, and every grunt that made its way from your mouth. It was his work, after all.

Soon, Hector snuck a thick digit into you, which made you yelp in shock. He chuckled while keeping his warm mouth on you. The feeling of his one finger was surprisingly different from your two fingers. Maybe it was because you weren't the one controlling the pace or the pressure. However, giving it some more thought, it was odd. He used his finger as if he were more concerned with finding a specific spot. It soon became frustrating the more he continued.

You finally let your head fall forward to look down at Hector. Once your eyes hit him, you were met with a pair of cunning yet awkward eyes staring back at you. He took his mouth off your clit just enough for you to hear him talk yet also just enough for you to feel the heat of every word.

"Unsatisfying, right?" He snickered.

You furrowed your brow at him, making him laugh harder. He was playing with you, but you couldn't determine his purpose. Frankly, he was fascinated by how you needed him so badly. To say he was aware of your obsession with him would be a significant understatement. The first time he'd heard his own name whimpered through the thin wall of his apartment, he wanted to—well, he didn't really know what he wanted to do. He never thought you would actually take a liking to him ever.

Truth be told, he was the one who liked you first. The day you knocked on his door to introduce yourself after you had moved in, he never answered. But he watched you through the peephole, too nervous to open the door. He saw your sweet, confused face as you left and vowed that one day, he'd work up the courage to ask you out. The only problem for him was his "plain face" and "ugly features". So he kept you waiting for a day when that courage came. If it weren't for how desperate he was to be near you, you would've never seen him again.

"Alright, I'll do it properly." He promised, and soon, his lips found themselves latched onto your now puffy clit while his finger pumped in and out of you at a tantalizing pace.

Once he added a second finger in the mix, it was over. You felt the heat in you boil up as you grew closer and closer to your peak. The way his tongue was shockingly attentive made you eerily jealous. How was he so good? Why was he so good? Was he with others before you? How much practice had he had?

"How are you so good-!" Your growing anger was cut off by pleasure boiling over.

He made you cum. Quicker than you could've ever managed by yourself. It was slightly embarrassing how fast he drew that out of you, but then that shame morphed into agitation as he kept going.

"I came! You can stop, please!" You whined, giving him a tiny slap on the head.

He let out a small grunt but never let up. He helped you ride out your orgasm and then some. You became dizzy and frustrated by the constant feeling of lips licking and lapping at you like a lollipop. Your whines became louder, and the pumping of his fingers grew faster. It wasn't long before he sucked another orgasm out of you. Your body fell back onto the ground as you shivered with overwhelming delight. You almost felt tears collect in the corners of your eyes. It was too much. Thankfully, he finally had his fill after you came a second time.

He crawled up away from your cunt and back up to your rosy face with delicate eyes.

"I'm sorry. It's just that, your taste is something heavenly. I felt increasingly like a ravenous dog as I ate from your sweet, sweet skin, my love." He shuttered a bit as he whispered close to your face.

You could smell yourself on his breath. It was, enthralling, to say the least. You both stared at each other for a minute, taking in the different details that made up the other person. Hector's eyes practically glowed in the darkness of your living room. He was in love, and it was plastered all over his pussy drunken face. You must've made a particularly needy face because suddenly, he leaned back and began to unbutton his pants. You scooted from under him and sat up, watching as he messed with his pants. It was funny; he was fumbling to button up his jeans just a moment ago. Now, here he was, desperate to do the opposite.

"Do you need me to tie my hair up?" You asked.

He froze and peered up at you in confusion.

"What, what do you mean?"

You froze yourself.

"What do you mean what do I mean?" You questioned. "Don't you want me to suck you off?"

"Oh. Hardly." He remarked like it was the most casual thing you could've asked.

He continued to undo the zipper of his jeans as you sat there in puzzlement.

"...Why?" You finally managed to say.

"Do you think I've been blue balling myself just to finally get a blow job? I'm sure your mouth would be something else, but I've waited too long, my love."

Without a second more, Hector pulled his already erect cock out from his jeans. Finally, you could have multiple answers to the plethora of questions you'd asked yourself plenty of nights. It was just slightly bigger in width than length. The size was quite normal but big enough to where you knew it'd hit all corners. He was also circumcised, and no, he did not have a curved erection.

You stared at his penis for longer than you should've. It was as if you'd found the correct puzzle piece, and now the picture would finally come together.

"And I'm sure you've waited too long, too, no?" He purred before scooting your body closer to his.

Your ass made an embarrassingly loud squeak as it slid across the floor. However, neither of you paid any mind because soon, Hector would be inside of you.

You let your body fall to the floor again as he lined his cock up to the entrance of your slick cunt. Slowly, he began to press it into you while holding your hips. This, of course, drew out a variety of different whimpers and whines. It wasn't entirely painful, but it was vastly different in comparison to just your two fingers. Once he bottomed you out, he looked at you and never let his eyes leave you again. You gazed back at him with a drunken expression and mopey lips. He smiled at you. It wasn't a malicious grin but a smile that matched the same tenderness that had run through him since the beginning. He began to pump in and out of you, watching the dissimilar faces that your features contorted into.

"You have a lovely face when you cum." He whimpered with a very meek voice.

You tried to remark with something but were too lost in the embrace of Hector to even think of what you'd say. This is how it went for the next five minutes. He would feed you sweet nothings, possibly fishing for a slurred yet coherent response, only to be met with a series of loud whines and gibberish. Through the sounds of slaps and your own enjoyment, you could hear Hector's voice begin to crack with every other sentence. Almost as if he was about to finish.

"Did you want to try a different position, my love? Or-!" Before he could conclude whatever he meant to say, he came.

It was fast. Quicker than you thought sex with Hector would be like. You felt his hot semen flood into you as he grunted and whimpered, tightening his grip on your hips as he whined the words, "I'm sorry!"

You watched as he averted his eyes from you with a guilty expression. Shivering, you propped yourself up and out of his lap with your hands. His penis slid out of you as you moved, and soon you felt his sperm do the same. You placed a gentle but shaky hand on his cheek, guiding his face back to yours. The remaining arm holding you up felt like jello. He'd somehow drained every bit of you. If he had came too fast this time, you didn't even want to imagine what sex would be like on his good days. His eyes found your face again, and he placed his now sticky hand atop yours. Another lovely smile painted itself across his lips, and like a disease, his visual delight spread to you. A grin likewise of the same loveliness soon laid itself on your face.

Nothing was said at that moment. The silence between the both of you was enough to say what needed to be said.

"I love you."

Well, maybe a couple of words needed to be spoken.

Regardless of the timing and the duration of what happened between you. It was still bound to be the start of a rather eccentric relationship. You were made for each other, and nothing would be better.

"I love you, too."

End Notes: I was originally going to include a plethora of things. Hector was actually going to drill a hole in your wall, but I didn't know how I'd make that work. I was also going to have you and Hector go a second round, but again, I'm unmedicated, and if I randomly go to TikTok instead of finishing my fanfiction again, I WILL kill myself. ALSOOO i want this blog to be filled with hector for a month so PLEASE if you want anything hector REQUEST IT!

#𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓼' ˳ ⠀ ❀⠀⠀ little library.#hector valentino airnesto condicionado #hector date everything #date everything #date everything smut #hector x reader #hector x you #hector date everything smut

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noneknowingaxolotl · 16 days ago

Text

⋆⭒˚.⋆ What Are You? ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Fandom: Date Everything!

Character: Hector Valentino Airnesto Condicionado

Word Count: 7,234

Description:

You come home from a long day only to find your house to be miserably hot. Of course, where else would you check other than your HVAC system, located in your secluded attic. You don’t have your dateviators on, so it’s not like you’ll be intruding upon the elusive hermit of the household, who still won’t show himself to you.

…unless you accidentally have them on.

Warnings: Smut, Gender Neutral AFAB reader, Dominant Reader/Submissive Hector, Voyeurism, Vaginal Sex, Masturbation, Handjobs, Praise Kink, Humiliation, Blindfolds, Jealousy, Insecurity, Premature Ejaculation, Multiple Orgasms, Riding, Nipple Play, Obsession, Biting

Original Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67094671

Interesting things, for lack of a better term, have been happening in your house ever since you received those odd glasses. Perhaps the strangest, and the most mysterious, being your HVAC system.

‘I’m kinda into my air vents’ is certainly a weird thing to say, but no weirder than said air vents speaking whispered confessions in his low voice, or his long, slender fingers gripping the bars of the grate whenever you laugh, as if he needs to squeeze something to cope with the emotions he’s feeling. And certainly, certainly no weirder than the knowledge that your goddamn AC unit has apparently been crushing on you for who knows how long, watching you through the ventilation system, imprinting every quirk and word into his frayed, delicate mind for his later fantasies. Weird.

But also enticing.

Hector had always been good at his job. You’d never had a problem with your AC before then, after all. And you had come to appreciate his dedication to it, how he would discard every piece of himself just to make you a little more comfortable, even if he did kinda obviously just a little bit gets off on the thought of being the one to make you relax. Still, there was warmth in the dead of winter, and a refreshing cool in the heat of summer, so you can’t seem to care too much.

So why was it so damn hot today?

It was a sweltering summer day. Fucking hell, entire cars were practically melting into the sewer and yet your house is still filled with a hellish heat, the kind you’d hear described in solar apocalypses that scorch the earth and burn holes through its crust. All at once you felt like an ant, and god was a bored kid with a magnifying glass.

As you approached the thermostat, you wondered if you’d somehow done something to piss off your loyal HVAC. The last time you had spoken was this morning, right before you headed out for work. And, to be honest, that conversation had not ended as amicably as you would have liked. You remembered clearly the tenseness that entered his hands when you had asked about his appearance, the way the air suddenly went ice cold. It was clear he didn’t want you to see him, and that fact filled you with even more of a burning need to know. Had your curiosity offended him? Was he trying to fry you alive as retribution? You found yourself wiping the sweat off your forehead, hastily taking your jacket off and tossing it haphazardly in the hallway. When you finally reached the thermostat, you let out a sigh of relief, then went to turn the incessant heat down.

Only for your finger to stop mid-motion. On the tiny screen of the thermostat was some sort of… glitch? Malfunction? Jumbled, indistinguishable letters flashed on the screen, almost hurting your brain when you tried to make sense of them. You pull your hand back, irritation replaced with… concern. Was Hector somehow in trouble?!

You take a deep breath, turning on your heels to make your way up to the attic. A quick check on the HVAC system would do no one any harm, and besides, it’s not like you’d actually see him if you didn’t have those glasses on.

It wasn’t until you laid eyes on the frame of a man did you realize you very much had them on.

You both jump back. You turn around quickly, covering your eyes with your hands as you hear him squeak, the sheer panic in his… suddenly much higher-pitched voice unmistakable.

“Ahh! Wh-what here?! Why? Why? Why-?!” Gone was the suave, honey-voiced wordsmith you knew from the vents, replaced by a stuttering, nervous mess. “Oh, no no no no no no, this is all wrong! You—“

“Hector, I am so sorry!” You cut him off frantically, making it clear you’re not looking at him anymore. “I came up to check on you, didn’t realize I had the glasses on!”

“Did- did you-”

“I barely saw anything, I swear I didn’t.” You try to calm your racing heart, unimaginable guilt flooding your chest. “Not your face, anyway.” It was true, you had only caught the barest glimpse of silver, the outline of an unfamiliar man, a brief flash of dark hair, and all too familiar hands.

You hear his sigh of relief, and can practically see the weight being lifted off his shoulders, even if you were facing away from him.

“Hector, I swear it was an accident. I would never, never force you to show yourself if you weren’t ready… I mean, I want to see you… badly… but it has to be on your own terms—”

“It’s fine, I, uh, I believe you… I just… not like this. Not here, not now.” His voice is strained, and you hear him swallow thickly. The attic is even hotter than the other rooms were, you find. So this was the source.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Am I— what?”

“Are you alright, Hector?” You repeat, trying to keep your voice steady as you keep yourself turned away from him. The temptation was heavy… so, so heavy… he was one turn away. One glance would be all it would take to quell that curiosity within you, burning hotter than the room around you.

There was silence for a moment. Hector seemed to have calmed down somewhat, as when he spoke again his voice was much smoother, though still in that new, higher tone. “Perfectly fine, my… love. I just dread the thought of our first meeting being like this…”

“Yeah, me too.” You chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a little. “Though, I have to admit I’m a little disappointed I wasn’t able to get a good look at you.”

“Why would you be? It’s… not exactly much to look at. Quite the opposite in fact…” you hear the shifting of his clothes as he fidgets. “It’s better this way.”

“Why?”

His words faltered for a moment, the unmistakable twinge of resignation entering his voice. “I do not wish what we could have together to be sullied this way.” He paused. “I am… for lack of a better term, ugly.”

“Ugly?” You try to prompt him for more, but he just heaved a heavy sigh.

“Ugly. Grotesque… disgusting… take your pick of words. Your beautiful eyes should not be pained to lay on this twisted face. Not for a moment, not for a second, shall I bear to watch them lose their light in disappointment.”

“God, man… you’re acting like children weep and birds fall dead when they see you.” You try to lighten the mood with the joke, but his silence after is palpable. Oh god. He actually does think that.

“Just… heed my word, my love. Let me cherish you from where your feelings may not be tarnished, from where you may, somehow, find it in you to cherish me too.”

You stay quiet for a moment, lips drawn together. On one hand, you wanted to respect that decision. On the other, you wanted to grab his face, whatever it looked like, and scream at him that you don’t care.

“Hector, I want to see you.”

He sputtered, once again losing his poetic lilt momentarily. “Are you mad? Have I not stressed enough my wretchedness?”

“No madder than a man who watches me day in and day out, sees my every step, every breath, every whisper and private moment, yet will deny me the fairness of even a glimpse of his face!.” You hiss out. “Thinking nobody would ever find you attractive is just as mad, just as delusional as thinking everybody finds you attractive!”

“How can you say that, when you haven’t even seen me?”

“I would see you! I would see you if you allowed me a moment’s glance—!” You stopped yourself, realizing you were pressuring him. A wave of guilt washed over you, and your voice significantly softened. “Ah, Hector… I’m sorry.”

He’s quiet. You feel panic bubbling in your chest for a moment, convinced you’d ruined things, you’d pushed him too far and now he’d never consider showing himself to you… But instead, he only speaks. Meekly, almost inaudibly. You had to strain your ears to hear him.

“Why are you so insistent…?”

You think over this question for a moment, choosing your next words very carefully. You try to speak his language, but how do you make a cheesy romance one liner sound genuine…?

“Perhaps I want to look into the eyes that have watched over me for so long… to know what the lips that uttered such sweet words to me look like, taste like…” You paused for emphasis, trying to gauge his reaction through the sound of his breathing before you continued. “It’s not fair, you know… loving someone who doesn’t even trust me enough to show me who he is.”

That seemed to strike a cord with Hector, judging by the sharp intake of breath you heard from behind you. “Oh, love…” his words came out strained. “Your words are like the finest of silks, soothing my frayed wires… and yet, I cannot bring myself to let you see me, knowing that warm blanket of your affection may be cruelly ripped from me in an instant, and leave me bare and wanting once more…”

You press the heel of your hand to your forehead. How insecure can one guy get?! Your mind frantically searched for solutions, ideas… compromises? Hm…

“Hector.” You whisper, and you practically hear him jump. “I have a proposition.”

“A… proposition, my love?” He seemed hesitant. “Tell me.”

You gathered yourself. This could either go very well, or very poorly, but it was worth a shot. “Cover my eyes with something. Anything will do. Then…” You reconsidered for a moment, but you were too far in to back out now. “You let me touch you.”

———

“What…? What?!”

Hector couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What the object of his obsession, his love, the one he had been dreaming of for years, had just said. He stared at the back of your head, shaky hands coming to clasp in front of him as he swallowed. Gods, his throat suddenly felt dry. Gods, his face felt more hideous than usual.

Silence had passed over the two of you. Hector knew he had to speak, had to give you an answer, but words seemed to fail him at that moment. You began to explain before he could even finish processing this.

“That way… I could map your face, and be close to you, without having to look at you.” You sounded unsure, and that did something to his poor mechanical heart. “How does that sound?”

He couldn’t deny it was enticing. A little too enticing, in fact. Just the thought of it… oh, wow… Would your hands be soft, or rough? Would they trace over his skin as they had done so many times in his various fantasies? Would they cradle his face or slap him across it? His mind spun like the air through his vents. The room got hotter.

“Yes…” He whispered, despite himself. “Yes. You can— I will let you. I will let you touch me.”

The tension in the room was suddenly thick. His legs felt like jelly, like they might give out at any moment. Although he did kinda like the idea of kneeling, he tried to keep himself upright. He frantically looked around for something to cover your eyes with, eventually settling on an old, discarded rag on top of one of the attic’s many boxes. It was clean enough, and it would do the job. He slowly came up behind you, hands shaking with each step. He had to be so close to you to put it on…

He moved slowly, very slowly, moving the cloth around your eyes and tying it at the back. He stepped back with a relieved breath, watching as you adjusted it to be more comfortable, then turned to him.

Even though he knew you could not see him, his body jolted, nails digging into his wrist as you stepped closer. You fumbled a little, being unable to see and all, reaching out your hands to try and find him. Oh god. Oh god. You were getting so close… your hand made contact with his metal chest, and he almost blew a fuse. He couldn’t hold back the little gasp he let out as your fingers moved higher, finally finding his face.

“There you are…” You face him with that little familiar grin on your face, the one he had longed to see pointed at him since the first day you pressed the buttons of his thermostat. He should’ve been… what? Happy? Excited? You were touching him. Him! So gently and kindly and with all the soft skin and warm smiles and wandering fingers he dreamed of. His wildest fantasies were coming true, and yet… all he felt was dread.

You were at his neck now, and soon you’d feel his jawline, or lack thereof. Soon you’d feel his scruffy stubble, his nose, his unruly hair, and you’d realize through touch alone just how unsightly he truly was.

Why did I agree to this Why did I agree to this Why did I agree to this–

His thoughts are cut off by your fingertips tracing along his cheek, and he’s sure you could feel the heat rising to them. You found his jaw next, then his chin, a thoughtful look on your face. He couldn’t discern your feelings in that moment, and that made it so, so much worse. He’d rather you shove him away and run downstairs screaming than not know what you thought of him. He almost short circuited when you touched his lips, running your thumb over the bottom one so agonizingly slow. You were… you were touching him like he was fragile glass, like he might shatter at the tiniest press of your fingers. It sent flutters in waves across his body, his circuits firing so hard they hurt when your featherlight touch traced his upper lip. He didn’t deserve this. Not this odd sort of worship you were laying on so thickly, not the attention you were paying him, not the gentle– gods, absolutely not the gentle, wayward touches of your hands. You cup both his cheeks now, cradling his face in your palms as if he were something precious.

“You’re soft…” You whisper, a little smile on your face. He stuttered out something incoherent.

“Soft?!”

“Soft.” You repeat, tracing the shape of his nose now. “You feel nice in my hands…”

He felt his resolve melting a little. His lips were ajar, his breath coming out in little, ragged pants. You spent a little more time exploring every nook and cranny of his face, before you made it to his hair. Where upon contact, you gasped.

“What?! What?! What is it–” He stammered out, a jolt of fear flashing through his body.

“Your hair is so fluffy!” You said in a… marvelling voice, feeling some of the strands between your fingers, other hand coming up to entangle in the thick hair on the back of his neck. He wheezed like a stepped-on dog, all the air pushed out of his system all at once.

“I- I always thought it was a mess…” He let out a nervous chuckle as you played with his hair, getting yourself familiar with its feel and shape.

“It's making me a mess.” you retort, and he can’t help but actually laugh. Oh, you had such a way with him…

“You could never be a mess…” He shook his head, his own hands coming up to gingerly touch yours. “You’re too… perfect.”

“You’re exaggerating, nobody is.”

“You are.”

You sighed, hanging your head a little. “Then you are too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again. What would he even say to that?! ‘No, I’m a disgusting freak and you should leave’? ‘I’m farther from perfect than you are from ever loving me back’?!

“Hector…” Your playful tone from before is suddenly replaced with a slightly desperate one. “Please… don’t hide from me.”

He froze. The air in the room dropped to below zero all of a sudden.

“I promise you… I won’t run from you. I won’t… I don’t know, spit in your face and call you a lowly peasant or whatever else you think I’m going to do when I look at you. I want to see you… not so I could judge you, but so I can put a face to the name that occupies so many of my waking, and unwaking thoughts…” You speak slowly, like you’re talking to a frightened stray animal. “Will you let me see you?”

He found himself at a crossroads, at an utter flaying of his mind. He wanted so badly to trust your words, that taking off that blindfold wouldn’t immediately bury any chance he had six feet under. He was suddenly hyper aware of every little flaw and odd angle of his himself, hyper aware of the image of your face in his mind, twisted in disgust at the thought you ever touched someone like him. But the sheer eagerness and desperation in your tone… The way your fingers curled around his… It ignited a dangerous thing in him. A very, very dangerous thing indeed. Hope.

“I’m scared.” He admitted, holding your hands in turn.

“I know… I know. And believe me, one word from you and I’d be out of the attic faster than you’d finish saying it. I would never ask again if you so wished. But I would want to. And I would yearn.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, shakily bringing one of your hands to his cheek and leaning into its comforting touch, trying to get one last moment of warmth before it all came crashing down. He took a deep breath, and slowly nodded.

“Take it off.”

You immediately sprang into action, though you took it slow despite your eagerness, untying the blindfold with your free hand and letting the fabric fall discarded to the floor. And, for the first time, your eyes met unfettered by the bars of a grate or the cover of a rag.

Hector tried to hold your gaze, he really did. But his entire body was whirring, screaming at him that this was the end, that he had ruined everything with just three words. He quickly turned away, clasping a hand over his mouth. This is where they jump back in horror. This is where they cringe in disgust. This is where they say we'd be better off as friends–

“Wow…”

That’s all you said. He snapped his head back to you, blinking in confusion and surprise. “Wow? Is that— Is that a good wow, a bad wow, what? What does ‘wow’ mean?!”

You laughed, playfully poking his cheek. “It means you’re beautiful.”

Beautiful…

“Ah.” He felt as if his mechanical chest was about to collapse in on itself, but he couldn’t help the wobbly smile that made its way onto his face. Your damned words… no matter how hard he resisted, they soothed him in a way nothing else ever had. He shook his head. “You’re insane.”

You laughed, and he took a moment to study your face. No cringe, no disgust, no horror… just surprise. Awe. Adoration. “Perhaps I am.” you replied, a hand finding its way to his hair again. “Perhaps I’m crazy, perhaps I’ve lost it. Is that a problem?”

He found himself relaxing, leaning into your touch like an affectionate cat. “...No. Not at all.”

You grinned. “Then you’re just as crazy as me.”

He was suddenly overcome with a dizzying sense of euphoria, the giddy feeling starting in his gut and blooming out over every synapse in his body. He let out a shaky laugh, still unable to fully believe what was happening to him right now. “Yes. Yes, I certainly am.”

You wrap your arms around him slowly, moving in closer as if to test how close you could really get. He lets you close. Oh, he’d let you anywhere you wanted to go in a heartbeat. All he’d ever wanted was to please you, after all. Your nose barely brushes against his now, sending fireworks through his entire system.

“Don’t ever hide from me again.” You speak in a teasingly scolding tone now, and he fines himself… oddly loving that kind of assertiveness from you. “My poor heart can’t handle it.”

“Oh, my sincerest apologies, my love…” His voice returned to that low, seductive drawl you knew well. But it was different this time. It didn’t sound like an act, like a desperate show to get you to fall for him with words alone. It sounded hungry, an animal desire clawing at his insides the moment you entered his snare. “How can I mend this… shattered little heart of yours?”

“Mm… I don’t forgive you.” You shake your hand, fingers tracing up the nape of his neck. “I fear my heart may be beyond mending…”

“That’s no good.” Despite his attempt at bravado, that grin on his face crinkles up the corners of his eyes, making him look more like an excited puppy than a suave dreamboat. “Is there truly no balm or salve that may soothe it?”

“Well… perhaps one thing.” You twirl a strand of his hair in your fingers, trailing off for dramatic effect. He fluffs up at the touch, the whirr of air in the nearby air duct suddenly increasing, blasting more of that warmth into the room. He lets out a little choked hum, melting into your hands so completely he almost doesn’t process your next words. “How about you show me all of you?”

His eyes widen, and he pulls back slightly to blink at you in shock. “Oh! All…? All of me?”

You grin, looking at him with a certain sparkle in your eyes. “All of you. Every inch.”

Hector realized just then that you seeing his face was only the warmup round. This… was the true battle. He gave a nervous laugh, averting his gaze. “Well… I suppose I should, uh, work on your heart…”

You quickly picked up on his nervousness, and pulled him closer with the hand you had on his neck, pulling a pathetic yelp from his throat. “What are you?”

“Umm… I’m… I’m an air conditioner?”

“No.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “What do you look like?”

“I look like…” he almost said a lot of things, out of sheer habit alone. Someone wholly unworthy of you. Someone ugly, someone gross. But that look in your eyes told him quite firmly what would happen if he so much as uttered something like that around you again. So instead, he spoke slowly. “I look like… me.”

“And you are?”

“I don’t know…” he said dumbly, not understanding your little game.

“Beautiful. You’re beautiful.” You clarify, tracing comforting shapes into his skin. “Say it.”

“Uh, my love… must I?” He stammered, suddenly mortified by the request. “That… that level of confidence doesn’t feel right yet.”

You give a low hum, then lean in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Then I’ll be here all night, until I make it feel right.”

His heart soared. Oh, this was much, much better than he dreamed it would be. In none of his wildest fantasies had you been so… into him. He was almost ready to convince himself that you loved him when you began to pepper kisses across his face, your lips just as soft as he had imagined. And your hands, to his delight, began to wander. He was confirming so many things about you, every question he had before was being answered through each little brush of your nails against his skin, every little graze of your teeth against his stubble. He found himself giving you a low groan, unable to contain the pleasure building within him. This only seemed to embolden you, and you took a little nibble of his throat, making him squeak.

“Ah-! I— yes, my love… let me bear the evidence of your affections, blooming in black and blue across my skin…” he babbled, defaulting to his usual poetic way of speaking when he was so overwhelmed like this, even if it was in the slightly dorky voice you had only recently found out about. “Don’t hold yourself back from maiming me like a wild beast, for I am yours to consume in my entirety…”

“Then kneel.”

“Huh? What?”

You smiled, ignoring his gobsmacked expression. “If you wish to be consumed, kneel down,”

Oh.

Oh, he won the jackpot.

It was like his legs gave way without him giving them any input, dropping to his knees before you. His hands flew up to take hold of your waist as he looked up at you with his slightly glistening, yearning eyes. He preened at the little approving smile that dances across your lips, and he bit his, wishing more than anything that you’d lean down and show him how that tongue of yours tasted,

“Oh, good…” you said in a low purr, a hand resting on his head before sifting through it. “You’re even more beautiful like this…”

He groaned once more, pressing his forehead to your thighs as he hung his head. The way you stroked through his hair sent a whirlwind crashing through his ducts. He could’ve stayed like that all night, face buried in your lap as you touch him like a prized pet. Like he was worth something.

But suddenly, you knelt down with him, and took his cheeks in your hands, affectionately squeezing his face before leaning in, lips just barely grazing his.

“May I…?”

His jaw drops, hands tightening on your hips as your sweet breath mingles with his. He instinctively closed his eyes.

“Kiss me, my love…”

That’s all the encouragement you needed. You finally closed that little gap, and pressed your lips to his.

Oh, your mouth was warm.

And your lips, firm yet soft. He had imagined you kissing him roughly, taking him like some crazed beast. But this… this was a pleasant surprise. He took a moment to revel in your taste, trying to commit every little detail of this to memory. He found himself describing your feel over and over in his overworked head, needing to remember every single groove and ridge of you.

Soft. Sweet. Firm. Like the subtle embrace of the hearth on a winter day. Gentle. Loving. Wanting. Heart beating out of chest. Ears roaring. Hands holding, grasping. Pulling closer, closer, closer…

His thoughts seemed to devolve when you pushed him onto his back. He moaned into your lips, hands moving up your spine to pull you down against him. His eyes fluttered between open and shut, unable to concentrate on anything but the honey-sweet ambrosia of your kiss. When you pulled back, he chased you, as if forgetting for a moment that humans need to breathe. You had to take a fistful of his hair and hold his head down to stop him from taking your lips again. He let out a low, needy whine, looking up at you with a feral, dark sort of desperation, like you were dangling a juicy steak above a starved dog’s nose. His hands gripped you tighter. Ah, he was scared to let go. So scared… if only you would stay in that attic with him, forever. If only you never so much as glanced at another object in this damned house again…

You suddenly grab hold of one of the handles on his strange chestwear, yanking it open. It made him gasp, his torso now exposed for you to see. He wasn’t exactly the most sculpted, and he knew it… but your only reaction was to continue stripping him bare, until he was laying beneath you with his whole upper body on a lecherous display.

“Oh, my love…” he purred between puffs of air, watching as you explore his body with your hands. “Only you could gaze upon a body like this and want it for yourself…”

“Only you could gaze upon a body like this and tell me you’re grotesque….” You trace over the bit of pudge in his lower abdomen, then squeeze it lightly, making his head fall back. The groan he lets out is a mix of embarrassment and pleasure, but he didn’t have much time to focus on his shame when your hands were moving even lower.

“My love! My dearest!” He gasped out, grabbing your hands in his before they could pull down his waistband. “Allow… allow me…”

You blinked in surprise, but nodded, moving off of his lap to allow him to do as he would. He made a show of it, slowly undoing the buckle of his belt, then the buttons on his pants, just as he had done in his mind’s eye all those lonely nights in the vents, watching you give yourself the pleasure he was convinced he’d never be able to give you. He took great pleasure in the way your eyes followed his every movement, the way they roved over his body and narrowed when he paused, only to continue in this tantalizing display of himself.

Soon, he was down to just his undergarments, and he couldn’t help but clasp his hands in front of him, his main nervous habit. Neither of you move as you take in the sight for a moment. He fidgeted with his thumbs, a little bit of that fear creeping back into his mind, and shocking through him when you began to sit up.

He reached out a hand, desperate to get you to stay. No no no… You can’t leave. That’s just wrong. “Wait—“

He cut himself off when you begin to remove your own clothing. The fear dizzying his mind crashed, pooling in his gut as a much different feeling entirely.

“Hm? Do you want me to keep them on?” You raised a brow. He quickly shakes his head, sitting up as well.

“No! No no no no… all off.”

You smiled, and continued with your task again, speaking all too casually. “Good. Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

His whole body flushed. And you just laughed. “Oh, don’t act like you’re so damn innocent. There’s vents in every room in this house, including my bedroom. I know you have a front row seat to everything I might be doing in the moment.”

He couched into his hand, looking away from you. “I wasn’t looking! At least… not purposefully…”

You shed your last piece of clothing, and took his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. “You weren’t? How disappointing…”

He knew you were messing with him. He knew from that glint in your eyes and the slight upwards curve of your oh-so-tempting lips that you enjoyed every single second of tormenting him. But he fell into it. He walked right into your jaws with all the willingness he had. Letting you crush him with them was only the logical next step. “I was.” He admitted, shifting his hand in yours to intertwine your fingers.

“I was watching. Every time. For years. I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t look away. But I enjoyed every second…” His voice came out in cracks, and he dropped his gaze over your body. It was true, he had studied every nook and cranny, every little detail, every mole and freckle and blemish and hair. He knew the very nature of you, the very fine intricacies of your form. But this… this was different. Right now, that form he so admired and loved was his. You were in his attic, under his touch, giving yourself to him. And it all felt utterly sinful. He was taking something that shouldn’t be his. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about right or wrong or who belonged to who as long as you allowed him to crawl into your arms and tangle his legs with yours.

“Mm… you’re a real creep, you know what?” You said bluntly. He couldn’t help but meekly agree, a little shame creeping onto his cheeks despite his little internal monologue about not caring. You just smiled, using your interlocked hands to push him onto his back one more, getting comfortable straddling his waist. “I bet you know exactly how to please me.”

He shivered, his free hand coming up to trace your now-bare thigh. “That… that is my purpose, after all.”

“Then fulfill it.”

He didn’t need the command. He was already sitting up to shakily kiss your cheek, then down your neck, your collarbone, your chest, all while his fingers stroked up between the junction of your thigh and your hips. He knew your eyes would close if he kissed right at the base of your throat. He knew your breath would pick up when he traced a hand teasingly light over your tailbone. He knew every preference, every way you could be pleased and where to do it.

“My… you really have done your homework…” you sigh, letting your head fall to the crook of his neck for a moment as he moved his hands higher on your legs, towards your centre. He smiled, burying his face in your hair and taking a deep breath in, committing your scent to his ever-growing collection of mental memorabilia.

“What can I say? You inspire me…”

“Quite so, it seems…” you said in a low drawl, and it was as if you had thrown a match into a vat of gasoline. Fuck, he would’ve came in his boxers right there had he not pulled back a moment to cool down. Though he couldn’t get too far, not with your grip on his body holding him flush against you. “Now… how do you want me?”

He’s almost embarrassed at the way his face obviously lights up, trying to keep his grin under wraps as you laugh heartily at his obvious arousal. “You’re… letting me choose, my love?”

“Mhm.” You hum cheerfully, kissing the tip of his nose. “On your back, on mine, my tongue, or anything else you so desire…”

He felt another wave of both nervousness and excitement. “Oh, oh… you’re too kind, my love… too kind… I am so, so honoured…” he rambled out, fingers tapping uncontrollably against your skin. “But they all sound so good… so, so good… I can’t possibly choose…”

“Well, we have all night, don’t we? It’s less a question of which one and more a question of which one first.”

The air in the room had suddenly gotten much, much warmer. You laugh while he looks paralyzed by his indecision.

“Let’s simplify it… which one of us will do the fucking? I’ve got a real good friend downstairs who’d be happy to help—“

He cut you off with a finger to your lips and a desperate look in his eyes. “My love… please do not speak of other objects while you are perched upon my lap.”

“…noted.” You nodded slowly, before continuing a little more carefully. “No pegging tonight then. “Then, how should I have you?”

He hesitated, gears turning in his head. Finally, he comes to a decision.

“I… I want you to ride me.”

He felt himself practically jump and the wicked little grin that spread across your face, his cock throbbing against its confines at the sheer lust that just filled his body.

“Then so it shall be…” you placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back. He let out a lecherous moan, head falling back as you lavished attention over his body, finger pulling down his waistband to let his aching arousal spring free, much to his relief. Your hands found his sensitive spots quickly, testing what made him squirm and what made him whine. One of your hands gave his nipple a little pinch, and his entire back arched off of the floor beneath him, a silent scream ripped from his throat.

“Oh! Sensitive here?” You tease, giving the other nipple a little flick up with your tongue that made him convulse once more.

“Mm… yes… oh, you push my buttons so easily love… just a mere touch from you can dial my temperature up and down so easily…” he manages to get out between little whimpers, raising his hips up into you desperately. To his delight, you finally touched him where he needed you most, tracing a fingertip up the length of his cock as you tortured his nipples.

“Beautiful.” You whispered against his skin. He tensed up at the word. That damned word. “Can you say it yet?”

“Not… not yet. Not now.” He huffed, looking up at you with slightly glassed over half-lidded eyes. “I’m not ready.”

“Then I’ll say it for you, for now.” You pressed a kiss to his sternum as you began to stroke him properly, positioning yourself above him. “You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. The most lovely creature I ever had the pleasure of bedding like this…”

He moaned at the praise, your words going straight to his weeping dick. You gathered some of the precum that had accumulated at the tip, using it to better stroke him. You moved your other hand up, positioning two fingers on his lips. He looked up at you dumbly for a second, before he realized what you wanted him to do. Holy fuck… were you really going to make him suck your fingers?!

He hesitated not for another second, sliding your two fingers between his lips and taking them deep into his mouth. You pressed them down onto his tongue, making him lurch slightly beneath you. His hands came up to hold your wrist, needing something to grab as he rutted into your hand and sucked on your fingers. He knew he should be grateful for what you were giving him, but he couldn’t help but wish his tongue was on your clit instead. Perhaps sitting on his face would be his next request…

Once sufficiently coated in his saliva, you remove your fingers, leaving him feeling strangely empty. Maybe saying yes to that sex toy wouldn’t have been a bad idea… he didn’t have much time to ruminate on this, as you had begun to slide those two fingers he just had in his mouth, down between your legs.

The sight was almost more arousing than being jerked off by your hand. He let out a downright fucked-out moan, hands flying to your hips again to steady you as you begin to touch yourself, right before his eyes. It was a sight he was, admittedly, not a stranger to… but this one… oh, this one was all for him. Your fingers rubbing at your clit, dipping lower to slip inside you before coming back coated in your own arousal… that was all for him. And he loved. God, he loved it…

“My love…” he whispered, drawing little circles into your hips. “I hate to rush you…. But if you don’t take me now…”

“Yes, yes…” you chuckled, sending an electric prickling down his spine. “My poor little stalker would feel neglected.”

He wasn’t exactly sure if he liked that nickname, but he didn’t have any time to protest when you were positioning yourself, letting his cock split your folds and run up and down the length of your cunt. He squirmed, panting like a btich in heat, nails digging into your so-enticing skin. When you finally, finally sunk down, he’s ashamed to say that he came right then and there, eyes squeezing shut as he let out a strangled whimper. You look down at him in surprise, pulling off of him momentarily to process what just happened.

“Hector… did you just?”

“I-I’m I’m sorry… oh, my love, I have failed you in every way a lover can be failed. For that, I am shamed…” he rambled, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He honestly felt like crying. Dream come true and he ruined it by being too easy to please…

But instead of leaving, or calling him pathetic, you just slammed down onto his overstimulated cock again, making him scream your name in sudden pleasure, a hand flying up to his mouth before it’s quickly knocked away and pinned down by you. “Don’t you dare.” You said firmly, beginning to ride him at a downright brutal pace. After one orgasm, his poor cock was much too sensitive. Every snap of your hips down onto his sent electric shockwaves of near-painful pleasure through his wrecked body. After a while of this, of being ridden relentlessly like he was a dean toy, he could no longer scream, just babble and whimper into your shoulder. You’re sure some of the other objects in this house heard all the commotion, but you doubt any of them would mind too much.

You suddenly slowed down the pace, taking long, slow movements down onto him. He held back a shocked sob, biting his lip so hard he thought it might start bleeding. He leaned into your touch as you stroked his cheek, a small, slightly manic grin forming on his face again.

“I’m going to finish soon.” You warned him, running his thumb along his cheek. “And you’re going to finish with me.”

He nodded. Oh, he was so eager. He wanted this. No, he needed to finish with you, to feel you clench around him as he came, and to make up for his…. Embarrassingly quick orgasm earlier. You smiled at his acceptance, and placed both of your hands on his chest to brace yourself. He took a deep breath in preparation, letting his eyes meet yours. This time, with no fear.

You sped up the pace again, and he held your eye contact as he let out his sweet little sounds, hips weakly thrusting up to meet yours. Your body seemed to draw him in further, and his nails scratched and clawed at any patch of skin he could reach for purchase. He felt you spasming around him, saw the familiar look of quiet bliss on your face… and he knew it was time. With one final snap of your hips, you both cum.

His lips opened in a silent plea as the white-hot sensation washed over him, filling every crevice of his body with its warmth. You collapsed on top of him, head pressed into his shoulder. He chases the little aftershocks of orgasm for a moment, before turning both of you onto your sides, holding you close against his chest. After a moment of rest, you immediately began to pepper him with kisses, running your hands over his sore body in a mix of apology and reverence. He couldn’t bring himself to move, too overwhelmed by the realization that you’re finally, finally his.

“Well?” You suddenly said, pulling back to look at him expectantly.

He looks into your eyes blearily, blinking a few times before awareness returns to them. “Uh, what?”

“What are you?” You take his cheeks in your hands as you had done before, caressing his skin with your thumb.

He realizes what you want. And this time, he smiles brightly, placing a hand over one of yours and leaning into your touch.

“Beautiful. I’m beautiful.”

#hector valentino airnesto condicionado #date everything #date everything hector #gender neutral reader #hector x reader #hector valentino airnesto condicionado x reader #date everything x reader #self insert #reader insert #oc insert #fanfic #fanfiction

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airflowheatingandac · 4 months ago

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Air Conditioning Maintenance: Keep It Cool and Efficient

Regular air conditioning maintenance is essential to ensure optimal performance, energy efficiency, and a longer lifespan for your unit. A well-maintained system can reduce energy bills and prevent costly repairs. Start by cleaning or replacing the air filter every 1–3 months to maintain airflow and indoor air quality. Check the thermostat settings to make sure your system is cooling effectively. Inspect the outdoor unit—clear any debris, leaves, or dirt that might block airflow. Schedule professional servicing at least once a year to clean coils, check refrigerant levels, and ensure all components are in good working order. Also, listen for unusual noises or weak airflow, as these may signal a problem. By staying proactive, you’ll enjoy a cooler home, better air quality, and fewer emergency breakdowns during the hottest months. Regular maintenance is a simple step that saves money and keeps your AC running smoothly all summer long.

AirFlow Heating and AC (877) 538-1584 Skokie, IL https://airflowac.com/

#air conditioning #AC maintenance #HVAC tips #energy efficiency #home cooling #summer prep #air filter #AC repair #HVAC service #cooling system #indoor air quality #AC cleaning #thermostat check #professional HVAC #AC care

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bat-mom-writer · 9 months ago

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Closet Confession

Reader(Wife) x Bruce Wayne\Batman(Husband)

Summery: You married Bruce because he wanted a mother for the boys. But you and Bruce are more like "rivels" then lovers. But one evening, you and Bruce are stuck in a closet. Leading to feelings being revealed and a spicy\angry make out.

Note: No explaining how you got stuck and didn't really want to write it.

If you want more loving and sweet arranged married coming together. check out Not Just A Mother

Rating: Angst, spicy(no smut), happy ending

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Can't you back up at all? I'm practically squashed between you and the wall." you complained, trying to wriggle out of the tight spot.

Bruce's eyes searched the darkness of the closet, his hand brushing against the cold, metallic shelf. "I'd love to, but I'm afraid there's not much space in here."

Your breaths mingled in the cramped quarters, a stark contrast to the cool, antiseptic smell of Alfred's freshly laundered clothes surrounding them. You felt the tension in the air thicken like a fog, heavy and palpable.

"You just don't get it, do you?" your voice grew a little louder, your exasperation clear. "It's like you're trying to fill every corner of this space. Can't you just, I don't know, shrink for a second?" Bruce chuckled softly, the sound reverberating against the confined walls. "Well I’m sorry. Being 'too big' is not something I can control, like certain other aspects of my life." He paused, his hand still resting on the shelf. "But here, I'm just as trapped as you are."

You rolled your eyes, the darkness hiding the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. "Oh, poor billionaire with all the gadgets in the world, stuck in a closet. What a tragic fate."

"Poor billionaire's wife, complaining that her husband's too "big." You know, I know plenty of woman that would pay top dollar for that problem." Bruce quipped, trying to get his footing on the crowded floor.

"I'd probably sale that problem to them, just to get some peace around here." you grunts as Bruce accidentally steps on your foot.

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice tight with frustration. "Its like Alfred shoved everything in here, making sure we couldn't fit."

"Great analyses, world's greatest detective." you says with sarcasm.

Bruce's grip on the shelf tightens, the metal groaning under the pressure of his hand. "It's not my fault Alfred's apparently has a vendetta against closets," he retorts, his voice echoing slightly in the small space.

You can feel the heat of his body against you, and you suddenly aware of how close they really are. Your heart starts to race, not entirely from the claustrophobic situation. "Well, maybe if you weren't so obsessed with your superhero persona, you'd realize there's more to life than gadgets and brooding." You contention. You let out a gasp as you slipped and out of insinked grabbed Bruce's suit, leading for both of you to lose balance and fall into a heap on the floor. "Fucking damn it," Bruce mutters under his breath, his frustration with the closet and your ongoing argument reaching a boiling point.

"Just, both of us stop moving," You whispers, your voice unusually soft and steady. "Alfred will come along, and then we can both get out of this cramped closet."

Bruce's eyes, adjusting to the darkness, find yours. He nods slightly, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You’re both still, the only sounds your mingled breaths and the faint hum of the Wayne Manor's HVAC system. You feels the warmth arm over your head to lean against the wall. It's a strange comfort, one that you not used to from Bruce's usual stoic demeanor.

The silence stretches on, filled with the weight of their unspoken words. You can feel the tension between you too, a coil of energy that's been wound tight for far too long.

"I wonder if Dick's got the boys under control," You says after a moment," Can already imagine them turning the manor into a battleground."

Bruce groans, his face hidden in the shadow, "Why do you do that?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Do what?" you asks, genuinely puzzled.

Bruce sighs, his frustration seeping through the darkness. "Always talk about the boys. Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian. It's like that's all you care about 90% of the time. The other 10% of the time is because of something I did wrong."

Your brows furl, confusion and a hint of anger, “That’s not true, Bruce.”

Bruce's hand, which till leaned on the wall above you, tenses. "Isn't it?" His voice is low, a challenge in the darkness. "You're always there for them, playing the mother figure, and here I am, stuck in a closet with you for once, and all you can think about is them."

You have a flash of anger, "Speak for yourself, all you do is train them, work with them, patrol with them. That's where all your attention is on."

Bruce's eyes narrow, "They need me. You know that. After everything they've been through…" "And they need me too, Bruce!" You exclaimed, the frustration finally spilling over. "Jason's still dealing with his past, Tim's trying to find his place in the world, and Damian… well, you know how he is. And Dick, trying to juggle his own life and this mess we've made together." You pauses, your chest heaving with emotion. "They're not just your sidekicks or your protégés. They're our family!"

"You don't think I know that!" Bruce exclaims, his voice echoing in the closet. His hand slams against the wall, and you can see the flash of anger in his eyes, even in the dim light. "They're my responsibility, my legacy. But you… you're supposed to be my partner, my confidant, and here you are, more concerned about them than about us."

You’re eyes widen, and feeling the sting of his words. "You're…! You're just a workaholic in a bat costume!" You yells back, your voice bouncing off the walls. "You can't even take a moment to realize that I need you too!"

Bruce's grip on the shelf turns white-knuckled, his jaw clenched. "Is that what you think of me?" he asks, his voice strained. "That I don't care about you?"

"I don't know! All you ever seem to care about is being the Batman!" you spits out, your anger palpable. You feels the heat of his body, the warmth of his breath against your cheek. "Never caring to be my husband."

Bruce opens and closes his mouth, his nose flaring with anger when suddenly, without warning, he pulls you into a rough kiss. The kiss is fueled by a mix of anger and passion, a stark contrast to your heated words. Your initial shock quickly turns to confusion, but you doesn't push him away. Instead, you finds yourself responding, your own frustration melding into the kiss. Your lips move against each other in a silent battle of wills, hands fisting in clothes and hair. It's as if all the unspoken resentment and longing has been funneled into this one, intense moment. You tastes the mint from his toothpaste, feels the stubble on his chin scraping against your skin. It's raw and real and everything you didn't know you needed.

"I fucking hate you," you murmurs into the kiss, your voice muffled by his insistent mouth. Bruce's grip on you tightens, pulling you closer until there's not a sliver of space between them. "I hate you too, now come here." he growls, the words vibrating against you lips.

Your kisses become more fervent, their bodies pressed together as if trying to bridge the gap that's grown between them. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, digging in, pulling him closer still, as if you could somehow absorb him into yourself and end this constant cycle of fighting and misunderstanding.

Bruce's hand slides down your back, cupping your hip, his other hand tangling in your hair. He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fierce hunger that surprises you. Your own hands find their way to Bruce's chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Your nails dig in slightly, a silent protest to the way he's been neglecting you in favor of his nightly escapades. But the feel of him against you, the taste of him, it's all so intoxicating that you can't help but melt more into the kiss.

Bruce's mouth leaves yours to trace a hot path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. Your pulse quickens at the sensation, a shiver running down your spine. You arches your neck, giving him more access, and he takes it eagerly, kissing and nipping at the tender flesh. "I love you," he murmurs against you skin, his breath hot and urgent. "I love you, I love you." Your eyes flutter closed as you feels Bruce's teeth graze your neck, the sensation sending a bolt of desire through you. "I love you too, you fucking…" you starts to say, but the words get lost as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. You gasps, your nails digging father into his shoulders.

His kisses become more feverish, your breathing harsh and erratic. You can feel the fabric of your clothes sticking to your sweat-slicked skin, the heat of your bodies threatening to ignite the very air around you.

Suddenly, the door to the closet creaks open, flooding the space with light. Alfred's shocked "Oh my," pierces the haze of passion that has enveloped them. Dick and the other boys, peering in, have wide eyes that dart from your neck, already sporting dark bruises from Bruce's passionate kisses, to you tangled limbs on the floor. The sight is like a cold shower, abruptly jolting you back to reality.

Dick, ever the responsible one, quickly jumps into action, turning to shield the younger ones from the scene. "Well, we found you, so… we're just gonna…" he says awkwardly, as he uses his foot to gently close the door, his voice trailing off as the darkness swallows you once more. You and Bruce freeze, your breaths heavy and mingled.

You stare at each other, the reality of your situation crashing down upon them like a tidal wave. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Well… shit," you murmur, breaking the silence that had descended upon you like a thick fog.

"Yeah, you could say that again," Bruce agrees, his voice gruff with embarrassment. He gently pushes himself off of you, his hands lingering for a moment before retreating. You both sit up, trying to smooth out your clothes and regain some semblance of composure. The closet feels even more claustrophobic now, the air thick with tension and a newfound awareness of each other's bodies.

You laugh nervously, the sound bouncing off the walls. "So, how do we explain this one?" You ask, glancing at the closed door.

Bruce runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the closet. "I don't know. Maybe we just say we were… uh, practicing CPR?" he suggests, his cheeks darkening.

You snort with laughter, "On my neck?" The absurdity of the situation hits you like a punchline, and suddenly, you're both laughing, the tension of the moment dissipating like mist under the glow of humor.

"Maybe we should just stick to the truth," Bruce suggests, his own laughter subsiding into a chuckle. "They've seen worse."

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your smile. "True," you concede, "but it might be a bit awkward at dinner."

Bruce's eyes meet yours again, and you see the mischief in them, the same spark that had first drawn you to him. "Then we tell them for breakfast," he jokes, his voice low and filled with a playful challenge.

You smack his shoulder, "You're terrible," you giggle, the tension in the air shifting to a lighter, more comfortable atmosphere.

Bruce grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Well, I'm serious. Can't tell them at dinner when we won't be there."

You stare at him for a moment, the gravity of his words sinking in. "What do you mean, 'we won't be there'?" You ask, your laughter dying in your throat.

Bruce leans back against the wall, his expression serious. "I mean, I know we've had our… issues lately, but I want to fix that. I want us to have a real date, just the two of us." His hand finds yours in the darkness, giving it a squeeze. "I'll take you out to the city, show you a side of Gotham that isn't all doom and gloom."

You blink in surprise, the warmth from his hand spreading through your body. "A date?" You repeat, your voice still a little shaky from the passionate interlude.

Bruce nods, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. "Yeah, a real one. No masks, no crime fighting, no children drama, just us."

You can't help but smile at his earnestness, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the cramped space. "Okay," you whisper, "that sounds… nice."

Bruce's smile widens, and you feel his hand squeeze yours. "It'll be more than nice," he promises, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "I'll make sure of it."

#batman #bat family #dc universe #bat boys #dc fandom #batfamily #bruce wayne x reader #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #bruce wayne's wife #bruce wayne #bruce x wife reader #stuck in a closet #angst with a happy ending

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ariaxco · 11 days ago

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rent vs buy: the math they don't teach you 🏠⋆.ೃ࿔*:･📊

you think renting is "throwing money away" and buying is always better. you think homeownership automatically builds wealth. you're making one of the biggest financial decisions of your life based on emotions instead of math.

the rent vs buy decision depends on your specific situation, not general rules.

hidden costs of buying nobody talks about ⭑𓂃

down payment (3-20% of home price), closing costs (2-5% of home price), property taxes, homeowner's insurance, maintenance and repairs, hoa fees.

real estate agent fees when you sell (typically 6% of sale price). these costs add up to way more than just your mortgage payment.

when renting makes more sense 📈 ʚɞ

you're not staying in the area for at least 5 years. you can rent for significantly less than mortgage payments. you don't have stable income or emergency fund.

you want flexibility to move for career opportunities. you don't want to deal with maintenance headaches.

when buying makes sense ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

you're staying put for 5+ years. rent and mortgage payments are similar. you have stable income and emergency fund plus down payment.

you want to build equity and have control over your living space. you're ready for maintenance responsibilities.

the 5% rule for rent vs buy 💻 ⭑𓂃

if annual rent is less than 5% of home purchase price, renting usually wins financially. if it's more than 5%, buying might make sense.

example: if rent is $2,000/month ($24,000/year) and home costs $400,000, that's 6% - buying might be better.

equity building isn't automatic wealth ʚɞ

in early mortgage years, most of your payment goes to interest, not building equity. you only build significant equity after many years or if home values appreciate.

if you move frequently, transaction costs eat up any equity gains.

opportunity cost of down payment 📊 ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

that $50,000 down payment could be invested in index funds earning 8-10% annually. over 30 years, that could grow to $500,000+.

compare potential investment returns to expected home appreciation and equity building.

maintenance and repair reality check ⭑𓂃

budget 1-3% of home value annually for maintenance. $300,000 home = $3,000-9,000 per year in maintenance costs.

roof replacement ($15,000), hvac system ($8,000), flooring ($5,000), appliances ($3,000 each). these aren't mortgage payments but they're real costs.

tax benefits aren't what they used to be 💰 ʚɞ

mortgage interest deduction only helps if you itemize deductions, which fewer people do since tax law changes.

property tax deduction is capped at $10,000 annually. don't buy a house just for tax benefits.

mobility and career impact ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

homeownership can limit career opportunities if you can't move for better jobs. selling a house takes months and costs thousands.

renting gives you flexibility to move quickly for career advancement or life changes.

the break-even calculation ⭑𓂃

compare total cost of owning (mortgage, taxes, insurance, maintenance, opportunity cost of down payment) vs total cost of renting over time.

include transaction costs when you eventually sell. factor in how long you'll stay in the home.

neither choice is inherently better 📈 ʚɞ

both renting and buying can be smart financial decisions depending on your situation. ignore social pressure and focus on what makes sense for your finances and lifestyle.

wealth can be built either way if you invest the difference wisely.

run the numbers for your specific situation instead of following general advice.

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ltash · 2 months ago

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"Wicked" Pt-3

SimonGhostRileyxf!"Rose"reader

From her highschool bully to her wicked bodyguard, from Simon to Ghost.

Palm Jumeirah, Dubai - Midnight.

The lights inside the mansion flickered, once-just a glitch, a flutter of voltage-but Rose's pulse skipped all the same. It always did now. The walls felt too close. The air, too quiet. No house this beautiful should feel like a cage, but hers did. Behind its manicured gardens and imported marble, the mansion wasn't a home. It was a gilded prison.

Massimo had made sure of that.

She hadn't been allowed to leave in weeks. Her phone was replaced. Her laptop filtered. The staff now wore polite smiles that never met their eyes. Rose had grown used to surveillance: the cameras hidden in chandeliers, the microphones embedded in vent grilles, the locks that clicked shut when they weren't supposed to.

But she still had one ghost left in the machine.

She padded barefoot into the darkened study, the only room she was never searched in. Inside the antique desk drawer was a tiny circuit board connected to a hidden port-one she'd built herself back when she still had freedom. It looked like a piece of the HVAC system, but under the hood was a different story.

She was about to use her only remaining ally: an old AI security system she had personally installed before her staff were replaced. It's disguised under the house's climate control and lighting apps-Massimo's men never even noticed it.

Late at night, she writes a command.

A hidden SOS, encrypted and buried under code.

She can't name herself, can't give details.

Just:

Her fingers trembled as she typed into the dim screen.

>High-value civilian. Palm Jumeirah. Hostile containment. Request immediate covert extraction.

She uploads it to an old abandoned GitHub repo registered under a pseudonym she once shared with a boy who used to sit at the back of her chemistry class.

Simon Riley.

The message was anonymous. There was no name, no coordinates. Just metadata buried in lines of an old GitHub repository registered under a long-forgotten pseudonym.

A joke. A nickname from school. One she had once shared with a boy who never smiled.

She didn't even know if he was still alive.

She hit send.

And hoped the wind still remembered her name.

Location: Undisclosed SAS Safehouse, Northern England

Simon was SAS now. Special Forces.

Callsign: Ghost.

The alert came through on a cold Thursday night.

He monitors that GitHub repo out of habit. It's nothing but sentiment, a scar he keeps reopening.

He hasn't checked it in years.

Until he does.

Simon Riley sat in the quiet glow of his monitor, the rain painting war patterns against the window behind him. He barely touched the internet. Except for this.

He hadn't checked the repo in years. It was a dead habit, something he did every few months. Nostalgia with no reward.

Until he saw it.

> Last push: 2 hours ago.

Encrypted within the code wasn't just a distress call.

It was her.

Rose.

He didn't breathe for nearly a full minute.

Ghost stood slowly, fingers curling into fists as a cold burn lit up in his chest. He hadn't heard her name since he'd buried it. Since the night he left without a goodbye.

His blood runs cold.

Encrypted in the code is a name he hasn't heard in half a decade:

"Rose."

He goes to his superiors.

The request is unofficial. Shadow ops.

But the words hostile containment and high-value civilian raise flags.

It gets buried under a private bodyguard detail ordered by a powerful British defense ally with silent interest in Massimo's dealings.

No name. No address. Just Palm Jumeirah, high-value civilian, hostile containment.

Enough for an unofficial op.

And the name that gets assigned?

Lieutenant Simon Riley.

His name was the first one on the assignment.

48 Hours Later a black SUV rolled past the iron gates like it belonged there.

Rose stood in her hallway, arms wrapped around herself, watching from behind the curtains.

One man stepped out. Alone.

Massimo's guards stood straighter.

Tall. Broad. Black tactical gear that looked too sharp for Dubai's heat. A skull mask covering his face, balaclava beneath it. His eyes were cold, unreadable. Like winter.

He didn't speak as he passed the guards. Just handed a sealed letter.

Authorization for close protection detail.

One of Massimo's men, it said.

Rose didn't buy it. But she didn't argue.

She stood at the top of the stairs as he entered, heart hammering.

He looked up at her.

And she, she froze.

There was something about him.

Something terrifying and familiar.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

He stopped just a few steps from her, the skull mask gleaming under the crystal chandelier.

"Ghost," he said. Just that.

The name tasted like ash.

Her voice trembled. "You're one of Massimo's men?"

"Something like that," he answered. Low. Controlled. British accent like frostbite.

She swallowed. The fear in her blood was real. She'd seen hitmen. Thugs. Brutes.

But this one was different.

An Alpha among the wolves.

Massive, silent, lethal.

The black cargo pants hugged his powerful thighs like a sculptor's sketch in motion. Every inch of him said: do not cross.

She stepped back as he approached. He didn't follow.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," Ghost said quietly, almost too softly for a man like him.

But she was.

Terrified.

Because deep inside her, something screamed that she knew him.

And that scared her more than anything else.

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. Not the peace of luxury, but the silence of surveillance, the kind of silence that watches you breathe.

Ghost stood by the edge of the marble balcony, framed by the dim amber of Dubai’s dying sun. The call had come. The assignment given. No backup, no fanfare, just a flight, a briefing, a skull mask, and a destination: Palm Jumeirah.

He hadn’t expected it to be real. The message hidden in the GitHub code had been too poetic to believe. Too her.

But it was real.

Rose was here.

And she was in trouble.

48 Hours Earlier, She had stared at the blinking cursor for what felt like hours.

> "High-value civilian. Palm Jumeirah. Hostile containment. Request immediate covert extraction."

No names. No cry for help. No traceable language.

Just enough to mean something, to the right person.

Rose encrypted the text in base-64, nested it into an update in an abandoned GitHub repository linked to a fake climate control API, something she and Simon had once joked about building back in school. Back when he was still just Simon. Before he disappeared like mist.

She hit commit.

And prayed.

Now...

The skull mask stepped through the threshold like a shadow that had grown legs. Black tactical gear. Gloves. Thick black cargo pants that stretched over thighs built like war machines. Combat boots that echoed like the ticking of an ending.

The guards nodded, not questioning his clearance. Massimo trusted him now. The cover had been placed well.

She was in the living room. Pale as bone, curled up in a silk robe on the ivory settee.

She looked up, and froze.

The skull.

The mask.

The height.

The weight of him was a presence.

“Who are you?” she asked, voice small, breaking.

He stood still.

"Name's Ghost," he said finally, voice deep and northern, cracked like winter pavement. "Massimo brought me in for security. I’m here to watch you."

Her brows creased, fear threading through the delicate angles of her face. “I don’t need another one of his men watching me.”

He tilted his head, slowly.

“No offense, but I’m not one of his men.”

Her throat worked. She stood, slowly. The robe fell just enough to show a bruise. Faint. But there.

His jaw ticked under the mask.

“I don’t trust anyone,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said. “That means you’re not stupid.”

A beat passed. The chandelier hummed above them.

She turned away, but not before he saw the tremble in her hands.

He had to earn her trust. Carefully. Quietly. Not with the truth, because the truth was dangerous. To both of them.

Not yet.

So he watched. And waited. And followed. Like a loyal shadow.

Simon Riley was gone.

There was only Ghost now.

And she didn’t know him.

Not yet.

But soon, she would.

The sun bled orange into the Gulf, casting golden ripples across the water as the massive white yacht sliced through the marina like a predator in silk. Palm Jumeirah, glittering like a crown in the ocean, had seen its fair share of luxury, but even here, the arrival of Don Massimo Toricelli turned heads.

Ghost watched from the top floor of the mansion through a sliver in the blackout curtain. He recognized the yacht, custom-built, three decks, helipad, and a private lounge with imported marble flooring. He’d studied it in the brief.

His yacht, a gleaming, multi-million dollar Leviathan, rocked gently in the turquoise water, tethered just off the private dock of her Palm Jumeirah estate. It gleamed like his ego, always visible, always looming.

Massimo was coming.

And that meant trouble.

The Italian stepped off the yacht with the confidence of a man who owned the world and everything in it. Black suit sharp enough to cut, sunglasses shielding eyes that never missed a detail.

The black Maserati had barely stopped outside the mansion before Massimo Toricelli stepped out, flanked by his two most loyal bodyguards. He wore his usual armour of a designer three-piece suit, sunglasses despite the low golden sun, and that chilling smirk that made Rose’s stomach turn. The man smelled of cologne and control.

He carried a box in his hand. Velvet black. The kind of box that didn’t contain anything simple.

Rose was summoned to the lobby. Always summoned, never invited.

Inside the mansion, Rose was being prepped. She didn’t want to go downstairs, Ghost could see it in her face. Her robe was replaced by a floor-length designer dress, her makeup immaculate. A doll on display.

She descended the marble staircase slowly, her every step echoing in the grand, hollow luxury of the mansion she couldn't escape. The lobby was vast, double height ceilings, Italian chandeliers, crystal vases she didn’t pick, all curated to reflect a life she no longer had control over.

He stood in the corner of the marble lobby, arms crossed, skull mask reflecting the light from the chandelier above. Every nerve in his body burned.

Then the door opened.

Massimo entered like a storm in human skin.

Massimo sat in one of the velvet armchairs like he owned the place. Because he did. Or at least, he owned the cage around her.

"Bellissima," he purred, his voice smooth and poisonous. “Dubai suits you.”

Rose managed a smile, tight, hollow. “Massimo.”

Ghost stood in the corner, near the mirrored console table. He was motionless, silent, a black sentinel in full tactical gear. Skull mask on. Hands behind his back. The perfect blend of menace and restraint.

Massimo glanced at him once, indifferent. "You can leave us."

Ghost didn’t move.

Rose lifted her chin. "He stays."

Massimo gave a faint chuckle and gestured dismissively. "As you wish, tesoro."

He reached into a bag one of his men handed him and pulled out a velvet box.

"Cartier," he said simply, like it was an apology. "For your good behavior."

She took it with stiff fingers, murmured a thank you that made her mouth taste like ash. The necklace inside was encrusted with diamonds. Cold. Lifeless. Like a chain pretending to be a gift.

Ghost’s hands curled into fists in the shadow of his sleeves.

Massimo’s eyes flicked toward him.

“And you must be the new shadow. What do they call you? Phantom? Skull?”

Ghost didn’t move.

“Ghost.”

Massimo chuckled. “Fitting. Let’s hope you’re as loyal as the last one.”

Rose shifted, her discomfort palpable. Ghost could feel it in her silence.

Massimo turned his attention back to her. “I’ve missed you. We’ll have dinner this weekend. I’ll have the chef flown in from Florence. You’ll wear the necklace.”

He leaned in closer, voice a whisper of threat and lust. “Say yes.”

She didn’t answer. Just nodded.

Massimo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You look tired. Are they feeding you well? Are you sleeping?"

Rose said nothing.

He smiled wider. "Still so stubborn. That’s what I like about you. We’ll talk again soon."

Massimo straightened, pleased with himself.

“Until then, cara mia.”

And then he stood. Kissed the air beside her cheek.

Left as quickly as he arrived.

He left the box in her hands and turned, his coat swaying as he walked out. The doors shut behind him.

Only then did Rose exhale.

Ghost stayed still. Watching. Planning. Rage crawling up his spine like wildfire.

He couldn’t move. Not yet.

He hadn’t called Task Force 141.

Because this wasn’t the moment.

But it was coming.

And when it did, Massimo wouldn’t walk away.

The moment the double doors shut and his footsteps faded, she turned and ascended the stairs quickly, almost running.

Ghost followed, his boots quiet behind her.

She reached her bedroom, the velvet box still clutched in her hand like it had burned her.

Once inside, she hurled it across the room. The lid snapped open. The necklace hit the floor with a sharp, cold clatter, scattering light across the marble.

She sat down beside it. On the floor. In her silk gown. Head bowed, fists clenched, tears pooling in her eyes like they had nowhere else to go.

Ghost stood by the door. Watching. Silent.

She didn’t notice when he stepped closer.

Until he knelt down beside her.

"You don't have to do what he says," he said softly.

She looked up, startled.

He reached forward, hesitantly, almost reverently, and wiped the tear trailing down her cheek with a gloved thumb.

Her breath hitched.

And then...

He extended his hand.

Palm up.

The same way she had, years ago, trembling in a glittering gymnasium, her heart in her throat as she offered her hand to a boy who never took it.

"You don't have to deal with this alone," he said gently.

Her eyes widened.

She stared at the hand. At the shape of it. The calloused palm. The curve of his fingers. So familiar.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Simon...?"

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just nodded.

The silence cracked around them like thunder.

Her lips parted, her chest rising with a thousand emotions she couldn’t name.

He slowly removed the mask.

And there he was.

Simon Riley.

Older. Harder. Scarred. But still him.

His eyes locked onto hers.

"I came back for you, Rose."

And this time, when she took his hand, he didn’t let go.

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