#oc: sir

[y2khaos-archive]

MARCH OF ROBOTS - WEEK 1

01. FIRST the first citizen of Terrastra - ASPECT. 02. BALLOON i just. had to make a balloon dog robot. what else do you want from me 03. ROAD robots with motorcycle helmets are cool as hell. the process of drawing the accompanying motorcycle, however... 04. SMALL hands you the tiniest xenon ever seen 05. TEAM ASPECT's line of surveillance robots, built to patrol the surface of the world it can no longer view otherwise. 06. EYES one of those surveillance robots is up to something. 07. FACTORY a source of heat in the far northern mining operations.

[quibblegoobe]

happy pride from blue rose valley!!

(please reblog. this took forevr. looking at u with my big sad wet eyes)

[oftenoffler]

NO NO NO NO NOT MY PATIENT NOT MY PATIENT

[bunnis-monsters]

You leave your house for two hours and your cat hybrid fucking tears up your couch, chews on and plays with your expensive panties, and makes a huge mess.

Turns out he does NOT like being left alone. No one at the shelter told you that.

You sit on your destroyed couch as he climbs into your lap, purring and licking your head contentedly.

“Welcome home, I missed you~”

And of course he’s already hard, rubbing softly against your leg as he continues to purr and groom you.

What a little nuisance, and the shelter says no returns…

Guess you’re stuck with him.

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Yay, found family beloved. (This video references this post!)

Sir Kingsman is not upset or ashamed at the Huffman siblings dating the same sex (-and from a different genre at that..), rather, he's just pondering whether the partners they've chosen are good or bad for them. Basically, he's looking after his children. Always.

For a man his age, he's pretty tolerant to whatever shenanigans it is these two get up to.

[itshirohi]

Guys it's his first day at the arena 😳😱

Look at this beautiful upcoming champion and his deadly rusty dagger.

[head---ache]

ive been wanting to re design emmies satbk design and i finally got around to it!!! is this turning into an entire au?? perhaps!!

[diminuel]

Some wires are crossed in this man's head.

More Mini-Mingo things~ (I have tags now, I hope that will help navigating/ blocking!)

[mauvecherie-writes]

𝐝𝐫����𝐩, 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 — 𝐥. 𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧

— rating: 18+ NSFW, explicit.

— summary: Lewis just couldn’t wait to get back home to his woman.

— warning: very little plot, minor angst, talks of feelings, fluff, sexually explicit, slight handjob, fingering, oral!f receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, rough handling: hair pulling, slight spanking, choking, minor dirty talk, minor aftercare. NOT EDITED

w.c: 5.0K

— ru’s 💌: am i back? am i not? time will tell 🤭 please enjoy! like, reblog and comment <3

He couldn’t stop his leg from shaking as the plane continued to descend.

“Since when have you been nervous about flying?” The voice of his father it through the noise of the podcast Lewis was listening to. He moved his headphone away from his ear and turned to his Dad with a soft smile playing on his face.

“I’m not nervous because of flying, Dad. I’m just anxious to see my girl.” Lewis confessed. Anthony chuckled – his smile spread and filled his whole face.

“She’s your girl now? When did that happen?”

“YN’s been my woman from the moment you introduced us. Things have been going really good between us. I just haven’t asked her officially.”

“Why haven’t you?” Lewis sighed at the question, rubbing his forehead as he thought of an answer. The both of you had never really discussed about the boundaries of your relationship, things just fell into place. In the beginning, things were meant to be strictly casual – whenever either of you where in town or whoever could fly out. However, as things progressed over the months, the both of you found yourselves dropping everyone else and exploring things exclusively without thinking too much about it.

However, there was something about this weekend, being away from you, had left an ache in his heart when he thought of you. When you’d spoken to him, telling him that you missed him in that soft, little voice of yours, - you took the last pieces of his heart and made him yours, completely.

“It’s been on my mind lately. I just think it’s time to make it serious. I don’t want her thinking that I’m wasting her time when I know she’s the one.”

“Alright, son. As long as you do what needs to be done. The next I see her; she better be my daughter-in-law.”

“I’ll do my best.” Lewis chuckled.

~

The plane landed and he separated from his parents and rode the town car towards your address. Originally, he would have met you at his home, but it was getting renovated to extend the closet to include more space for you. When it came to fashion, the both of you were competing but you had the leg up due to your vintage bag and shoe collection. One of the many things that he loved about you.

In his hand, he only had his essential hand luggage and a bouquet of your favourite flowers. The rest of his bags would be delivered tomorrow as for what he had planned, there was no need for clothing.

With his spare key, Lewis opened the door to your townhouse and the immediate aroma of spices hit the senses of his nose. It brought a small smile to his face and the sense of welcome. He was home.

“Sweetheart! Roscoe!” He called out and the response he received was an excited squeal and an enthusiastic bark. The patter of nails on hardwood floor and soft thudding of bare feet on the wooden floor got heavier, the closer they came towards him and around the corner. You were ahead of the aging dog, in your barest form of beauty, dressed in just a white, camisole top and an old pair of his shorts. Not caring about what was in his hands, you dove into his arms and wrapped your limbs around his body. The speed in which you came at him almost knocked him out, but he quickly recovered.

“Woah!” Lewis lightly let out a laugh as he manoeuvred the flowers into his other hand and then secured his free arm around your waist as you snuggled your face into his neck and held onto him tightly. Without words, your hug conveyed how much you missed him and God, did he miss you too. Having you in his arms completed him in a way that he had never felt before.

“I missed you too, baby.” He whispered into your ear. He walked away from the door and with Roscoe following until Lewis settled on the couch with you still in his arms. You leaned back and took him in.

“Look at you.” You mumbled as you knocked his cap away from his head and freed his curls from their cage. He had been letting his curls loose lately and you swore your attraction to him increased tenfold. Your fingertips massaged the sides of his temples and his eyes fluttered close, and a lazy smile drew on his face.

“I missed you so much.” Lewis stated again which made you giggle.

“I missed you more even though we FaceTimed every day for these past two weeks.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same as having you right in front of me, sitting on my lap.” His hands came to your waist and settled there. “Nothing compares to this moment.” He added as he drew soft, circular patterns on the sides of your hips.

“Oh yeah?” You questioned, your eyebrow quirking up as you tried to contain your glee.

“Yes, baby. Now gimme a kiss, we’ve been apart for too long.” You didn’t need telling twice as you leaned down and captured his lips as you cradled his face into your palms. He hummed softly as your lips touched and the tingling feeling of your fingers rubbing on his beard. Lewis smiled was your mouth’s entangled in a slow dance of passion. Lovers, reuniting and quenching their thirst – drinking the lust your bodies desperately seeked. Lewis’s hand came to the back of your neck and pulled you closer as the kiss deepened.

Your core began to dampen, and you could feel him hardening beneath you and for a moment, as you drowned in his consumption, a disgruntled bark broke the haze. You turned your kisses to the underside of his jawline and to his neck as Lewis finally gave Roscoe some of his attention.

“Sorry my boy. I just had to great Mummy first.” He said just before Roscoe jumped onto the couch with some effort and then forced his way in between your bodies causing the both of you to laugh. “Alright boy. You have my attention.” You got up from his lap and placed one more kiss on his forehead and scratched behind Roscoe’s ears.

“Go freshen up, I’ll finish getting dinner ready.

~

Half an hour later, Lewis returned to the living room feeling livelier, changed into another pair of grey sweatpants and nothing more but the rainbow pearls around his neck along with a customised diamond encrusted cuban link chain that you bought him for his birthday. He kept his curls loose, a bit more damp from moisturising them. You licked your lips as you drank in his form. Witnessing his muscles and taut body move across the living room, relaxed and little sluggish. His freshly detailed tattoos, glistening from the shea body oil you know that he took from your side of the vanity table.

As you prepared a plate for him, you began to think to yourself that if you had told yourself a year ago that you would be fixing a plate for a man and becoming a mother to an aging dog who took your heart, you would have laughed at yourself. But here you were, doing exactly that. Tony Morrison was turning in her grave.

You silently watched as Lewis prepared Roscoe for bed, getting him more comfortable.

“Baby, come eat.”

“What did you make?” Lewis asked as he stood to his full height and approached you by the kitchen island.

“Shredded tofu tacos with pico de gallo with triple cooked chips. I made buffalo cauliflower too but that depends on whether you finish these tacos or not.”

“Everything sounds so good.” Lewis unconsciously licked his lips as you placed the food down in front of him. “Your cooking is always good.”

You sat beside him as you watched him eat and be happily fulfilled. Your hand came to the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny trestles of curls that laid there as he ate each of tacos on his plate.

“You should have been a chef.” Lewis groaned as he cleared everything that was on his plate, including the small bowl of buffalo cauliflower that he asked for.

“Why do people love saying that to me just because I can cook?” You giggled.

“Because all of that elbow work you put in could open a very successful, generational restaurant.”

“Fuck off.” You playfully dismissed him as you shoved his shoulder. With his plate clear, you took it away from him. As you stood by the sink, he couldn’t help but admire everything about your being. Before he met you and in the beginning days of your relationship – the hyper independent side of you would have never been doing everything that you were doing now but Lewis took great pride in the fact that you only did this for him.

The owner of your own accounting firm – one of the few forensic accountants in the city. Because of your niche, you were one of a kind and you were the best in the game. Your father and Anthony were tennis buddies, and you had a shared a few games with the man. Anthony introducing you to his son changed your lives.

“How’s the firm?” Lewis asked as he drank his water.

“Good… We finally aced the TSB contract.” You announced which caused his face to break out into a wide grin before he pulled you into his arms as he placed kisses all over your face.

“I knew you would get it! Congratulations sweetheart.”

“Thank you!” You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and softly pecked his lips, the laughter never stopping as he kept coming back for more kisses. His fingers caressed your back as he held you close.

“Joining the baller’s club huh.” You rolled your eyes at his playful comments. As much you were making in the upper six figures – it was nothing compared to your wealthy lover. His generous gifts certainly helped.

“Let me actually fulfil part of my contract first. They could easily change their minds.”

“Then come to a race weekend. It’s more than just entertainment; it’s also a really good place to network with people on an international scale.”

“Look at you being supportive and shit. Am I also getting a hint of something else?” You raised an eyebrow and looked down at him inquisitively.

“I know you’ve been to a couple of races but this time I want you there as my VIP guest.” Lewis nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders as he absentmindedly drew patterns on your exposed skin.

“What race?”

“Which ever race that you can fit into your schedule. I know you’re a busy woman.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you, Mr Hamilton.” You whispered as you leaned down and captured his lips. He hummed softly into your mouth as your tongue leisurely caressed his, taking over his senses as you began to consume his every thought. Lewis could feel himself hardening against you as you pressed against him and all of his feelings that had been building up over the past few weeks that had mounted over.

“Take me out.” He suggested, mumbling onto your lips as he broke away. Your eyes darkened with lust, licking your lips – savouring his taste.

“Just like that?” You whispered.

“Just like that.” Lewis confirmed with his voice in a lowly tone as he moved to his feet and glided his hands away from your hips to your ass and groped it. Shifting your positions, your back was then pressed into the kitchen island edge as he crowded your space. Your hands slid into his sweatpants, and you pulled him out just as he asked.

Lewis sighed softly as your warm hand covered his tip, and you began to tug. His hand came to the back of your neck and pulled your lips towards his. With each stroke of your hand, you could feel him getting harder and harder. His pre-cum coated your palm, making your pulls more fluid, turning him on even more than he already was.

And you? Your essence was beginning to collect in between your thighs. You gasped into the heated kiss as he suddenly lifted your body into his arms, and you secured your legs around his waist. You moaned into his mouth as you felt his length against your warm centre.

Once in the bedroom, you began to strip at the clothing that was suffocating you. Lewis gently laid you down on the bed and pulled the shorts down the length of your legs. The he did the same, discarding the sweatpants and standing in between your legs.

Looking down at you, parting your thighs softly until he could see your cunt. Your core was dripping, your clit blooming and swollen. It never took much to get you wet like this, but it was only something that he could do to you.

“So fucking pretty.” He mumbled, more to himself than you but his comment made you smile, nonetheless.

“You always say that.” You responded as you parted your legs further as he hovered above you.

“Because it’s true. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, and it’s all mine.” He said before he crashed his lips into yours, craving your taste more than he’d ever before. With his tongue parting your lips as he deepened the kiss, he pushed two fingers inside of you.

“Uuhhh.” You whimpered as your tongues collided hungrily. It was like the pit of your stomach was collapsing within itself at how good his fingers felt inside of you. Your walls were so snug and tight around his fingers.

“You’re soaking me already, baby.” He mumbled, his teeth latching onto your bottom lip and lightly tugging.

“Mmm.” You whimpered yet again and wrapped your hand around his wrist as he pushed his fingers deeper into your pussy. The both of you followed a rhythm, the pace increasing as your hips lifted off the bed as your breaths became heavier. Your braids had fallen out of their bun and using his free hand, Lewis loosened the rest and tugged at them, forcing you to meet his eyes. Chest to chest, the chain around his neck brushing against your breast as his hair tickled your cheeks as the curls created a curtain around your face. Complete tunnel vision on him as he made you feel good with his fingers.

Lewis watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he curled his fingers and hooked them on your spot. The sound of your name leaving your lips was so sweet and it made his dick throb even harder. He pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to pout. He quickly changed that expression when he pushed those fingers into your mouth.

You eagerly sucked on the digits, your tongue making sure not to mis any drop – sucking on them just like you would his dick. He smirked as he watched desire drive your actions. With his fingers pushing on your gag reflex. Lewis shifted his body so that he was at eye level with your pussy. The back of your thighs was on his shoulders as his mouth watered at the sight of your lower lips. He unconsciously licked his lips as your arousal trickled out of you.

The sweetest nectar of forbidden fruit.

“Hold your legs for me, sweetheart.” Lewis instructed and you followed his command. Not wasting anymore time, he spread your use open and swiped his tongue from your asshole to your cunt and back. Soft mewls left your mouth as you squirmed beneath his hold. His hands held you down by the back of your thighs as he completely devoured you. He circled your clit with his tongue, dipping the tip in and out of your cunt -making a mess.

“Oh god!” You cried our as your legs tried to close around his head.

“Just me baby.” Lewis chuckled. “It’s me taking care of this sweet ass pussy.”

“Yeess!” You cried as your hand planted themselves in his thick curls and tugged. Urging him for more and Lewis wasted no time giving it to you. As he feasted on your clit, he dipped his finger back into your core. The combination of his tongue and his fingers had your walls tightening around his digits and and he could feel your orgasm on the rise.

“Let me have it. I need it baby.”

“Lew- shit!” You hissed, crying out in pleasure as your juices began to leak out of you.

“Give me more! C’mon!” He urged you. You body seized as your climax took hold, and he desperately lapped your juices until your body stopped trembling.

One of the many things that you loved about Lewis was that he treated sex like an art form. He always took his time learning your body, accepting every reaction that you gave hi, pushing him to stroke you, harder and faster past your limits.

“Goddamn, so fucking beautiful.” Lewis whispered as he placed a kiss on the inside of each thigh and trailed up the length of your body. He hungrily claimed your lips, kissing you with a passionate force that provoked whimpers out of you. Your essence coating his lips, making sure that you know how good you taste.

“I need you inside of me.” You whispered against his mouth as your hand found its way between your bodies and wrapped around his dick.

“Put it in for me, baby.” He mumbled as he lifted your leg and placed it over his shoulder as the other, he held down with his hand as you slowly pushed him into you. Your eyes immediately closed your pussy fit around him like a glove. Made just for him, that’s how good it felt. Nothing and no one compared to this moment.

And you loved it every time.

“Every time.” He sighed as he buried himself deeper into you. Your hand came to his chin and tugged him closer by his bear. You pecked his lips before you pushed your thumb into his mouth. The tingles that shot through you due to the suction made your pussy clench round him.

“Fuck me like you hate me.” You whispered against his mouth.

“Oh, I will. I just needed a minute to appreciate how you feel.” Your eyes slowly peopled open and locked in with his lust filled ones. Lewis crowded your space as he began to move in and out of you.

Nails dug into his skin as your mouth hung open as his every thrust rattled your body. Lewis’s brows furrowed as he enjoyed the fee of your walls rhythmically pulsating around him. Your warmth, your tightness, your wetness – all for him to experience.

No one else.

“Oh my god!” You gasped. Through your glazed eyes, you saw him smirk down at you. He began to circle his hips, driving deeper into your tunnel but keeping the same pace.

“Right there?”

“Yess – Oh fuck! Yes!” Your eyes crossed as you threw your head back. Lewis leaned down and sucked on your exposed neck as he pressed the tip of his dick against the ceiling of your cunt. The sounds you were making were even foreign to you; your toes curled above his head as the knot in the pit of your stomach clenched.

“Fuck, baby. You always feel so good.” He trapped his bottom lip with his teeth and looked where your bodies joined. The wetter and tighter you got, the more he sped up until a ring of your cream collected at the base of his dick.

“Lewis!” You cried out his name.

“I know baby, I know. Give it to me.” He mumbled as he leaned down and placed kisses along your jawline. “Come on this dick, YN.”

Your words got stuck in your throat as you arched into his chest.

“I want you to look, sweetheart.” Lewis said. “Look at how I fuck this sweet pussy, and you cream all over me.”

“Baabbyy.” The nickname came out as a whimper as you dipped your head down and looked as his dick nestled deep inside and pull out, over and over. Your cream was covering his length and catching on his trimmed pubes. Without thinking, you reached down and with your finger, collected your essence and brought your fingers to his mouth. Lewis groaned as your cum touched his tastebuds.

The look of pure hunger in his eyes was your trigger. Tingles shot up your spine and took over you. “OH FUUU-.” The words were lost in a silent scream as your orgasm erupted. Lewis moaned aloud as you felt his release flood your walls which intensified your climax. You dropped your legs to his waist and wrapped your arms around him after he was spent.

He collapsed on top of you and took deep breaths to gather yourselves even though he was pressing on your chest. Lewis then patted the side of your thigh, and you moved your limbs away from his body. You softly sighed with a pout as he pulled out of you and disappeared into the en-suite.

You climbed towards the headboard and laid down onto your stomach with your eyes closed. You felt the bed dip beside you, then the warm dampness of a cloth on the inside of your thighs. A hum left you as you enjoyed the tenderness of his touch as he cleaned you up and left chaste kisses where his fingers gripped your skin.

“Thank you, my love.” Your voice came out airy and soft. The way you sound when you are tired.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

“Not a chance. You have much to make up for.”

Lewis chuckled. “I do, don’t I?”

“You were only gone for two weeks but why did I miss you so much this time?”

“Because before I left, we had an unfinished conversation.”

You turned around onto your back, the jiggling flesh of your breast bouncing with the movement. The sight of that had his dick standing to attention. By the little smirk on your face, you knew what he had referring to.

“You have been my unexpected surprise. Coming at a moment I had sworn no distractions.”

“Am I a distraction to you, Mr Hamilton?” You asked as you leaned forward onto your elbows, and it brought your face closer to his.

“No, you’re not sweetheart. You’re everything I didn’t expect to be blessed with and more.”

“I like that answer.” You closed the gap between you and pecked his lips.

“I like you.” He murmured as he kissed you back, holding onto your Ips for longer. Your hand came to cup his cheek.

“I like you too.” With one last peck, you moved away from the bed. You don’t know why but the sudden urge to run took hold and you swiftly moved to the closet as the beating of your heart was loud in your ears. You had known that this conversation was coming. It had been lingering over your heads for more than enough time now and yet, a part of you was still not ready to face it. You had already given so much into this relationship and what scared you the most was how … easy it was to do. Lewis pulled out parts of you that had been dormant and you hated how it made you love him even more for it.

To be confronted with his feelings too. To know that he reciprocated what you gave and then-some was overwhelming.

“You avoiding me sweetheart?” You heard him speak from behind you as you turned your attention your jewellery vanity.

“Babe…”

“No, no. You are avoiding me.”

“I’m not. I’m just trying to get my emotions in control.” You confessed as you stayed facing the dresser, sorting out your jewellery, trying to keep your fingers busy.

“Talk to me then.” His voice sounded closer than before, but you didn’t feel his warmth.

“You have no idea how badly I want this.” You whispered your admission. “And for so long, it felt like admitting it out loud was a fool’s dream.”

“Did you think I didn’t want the same thing as you?” He asked.

“It’s not that I didn’t but I was weary because I know that this is a trying time in your career and you’re so focused on reclaiming what was stolen from you and you’re such a narrow minded visionary when it comes to your goals and as much as I can feel that you want this – you are right in saying I might be a distraction.” You nervously chewed on your bottom lip as your fears spilled out. You still weren’t looking at him, but you felt his arms circling your waist and his face buried in the crook of you neck.

“It would be foolish of me to say you’re wrong. You’re right, I do want to get back to the top of my game and I’m doing everything in my power to make sure that I do. And despite saying all of that, the way I feel about you YN far surpasses that. We were meant to find each other when we did. You are here to remind me that there are things that don’t wait for the right moment. I would be a fucking idiot if I let you go and ask you to wait when I can experience what we have now and grow in love together.”

You were quiet as you let his words wash over you and settle within your heart. “You really mean that?” You asked, your voice soft but full of hope. Your bodies swayed side to side as laid kisses on your neck and up to the back of your ear.

“I do. I want this for as long as you want me, but I don’t want to do this with anyone else, and I don’t want to.” His touch melted you as he explored your curves, enticing your senses, and you could feel his hardness beginning to press against your ass. Your body felt like it was vibrating from how much it craved him.

“Lewis.” You mumbled his name as he bent your body forward until you were pressed over the vanity table. The bite of the wood against your chest did not compare to the sizzling touch of his fingers in between your thighs, spreading your wetness around. Your body just called to hi and he always knew how to answer.

“Ssshhh, I know just what you need, sweetheart.” He spoke as he parted your legs even further and slipped right back into you. You braced yourself by holding onto the vanity’s edge as he delivered long and deep strokes.

“Oh my!” You gasped as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His thrusts rattled your body over and over until your legs were trembling beneath you. The way that he was controlling your body, you knew that there would be no-one else that would ever come close.

Your orgasm quickly rose, jumbling your thoughts and only leaving Lewis. Your hand behind and pressed against his abs.

“Move your fucking hand!” He hissed through his gritted teeth as he pushed himself deeper into you. “You told me to fuck you like I hated you and I am.” You could hear the teasing in his voice. Then he wrapped your braids around his wrist and pulled until your back was deeply arched. The new angle had you gasping for air and standing on your tiptoes as you braced yourself.

The slapping of his pelvis against your ass, your mingled heavy breathing, and the quivering of your cunt around his dick was pleasurably overwhelming.

Tell me you’re mine, YN.”

“I – I, oh GOD!” You screamed as your eyes closed with tears lining your lashes.

“Fucking tell me!” He taunted with a heavy slap on your ass cheeks.

“Yes! Yes! I’m yours!” You moaned out loud. Using your braids, he pulled you up to his chest and placed your right knee onto the vanity table. His left hand came to your jaw and other came in between your thighs and rubbed on your clit in rhythm with his thrusts.

Lewis licked his lips as he watched the pleasure completely take over your face. He held onto your jaw and the pressure forced you to open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“You promise?” His words soft and light as if his dick wasn’t hammering on your sensitive spot. You nodded your head as your eyes crossed as you clawed at the hand applying pressure on your throat. Your moans turned to soft but heavy whimpers as your walls tightly clenched around his dick, causing Lewis to hiss against your cheek.

He pounded you faster and faster until both you and the vanity were rattling. You held on tightly as your climax peaked and Lewis held onto you tightly as he coated your walls, his hoarse moans sweetly ringing in your ears. He rutted into you until he was spent.

The smell of your sex and the sound of your breathing were your only companion until you opened your eyes and the first thing you spotted was the crack on the side of the vanity mirror. You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped.

“What?” Lewis questioned as he untangled himself from you and turned you around until you were facing him.

“We broke the vanity.” You said as you played with his chains. His eyes moved past your head to the crack. He smiled as he turned back to you until his lips met yours and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“You won’t need this one anymore. I bought you a bigger and sturdier one for the new closet in Knightsbridge.” The lack of hesitation in his statement brought finality to what this was.

“This is it huh?” You smiled as he picked you up in his arms and headed towards the shower.

“This is it. You’re the only one for me, YN.” He smiled as you ran your hands through his now sweat damp curls. You hugged him tighter. Yeah, this was it for you too.

—————————

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @iamquiantrelle @cocobutterqwueen @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @jessnotwiththemess @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44 @mochachocolatteyaya @melaninpov @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @trinitoldyouso @gwenda-fav

[voxslays]

HAZBIN MEN AS DADS

Featuring >>> Adam, Alastor, Angel Dust (Anthony), Lucifer, Husk, Vox, & Valentino x Reader (Separately) as fathers.

(not proofread if that wasn’t obvious lol)

Adam:

Total boy dad. I can see him with a little girl, (let’s be honest, his daughter would 100% become an exorcist and take over after he retires as commander (if he ever retires lol)), but he would turn his son into the the next exorcist commander.

Adam is definitely a bit misogynistic…and no matter what you do, atleast a little bit of that would be passed down to your child. If Adam had a son (not him already having two other sons…), he would start training him at a very young age. (Kinda like the career tributes from the hunger games if yk what I mean. (Oh, you don’t? I don’t blame you lol. Idk what I even meant by this tbh. Don’t worry about it-))

With a girl, I can 100% see him being overly protective TO THE EXTREME. He’s the type to scare off teenage boys lol.

Alastor:

Is probably the best dad on this list (except for Luci ofc.) Is super protective of his family. Would not let your baby out of his sight for the first few weeks. Would offer to help you with the baby when it wakes up crying late at night.

Is totally a girl dad. He would willingly play dress up and have tea parties with her in her room…but it will not be mentioned outside of there. When going out for an outing, he would dress her up to match his colors—red & black—and give you a few extra minutes to get ready.

The two of you want some alone time? He’ll ask Rosie. If she’s busy he is forcing either Husk or Niffty to watch the child. Alastor also most definitely keeps your young, innocent child away from Angel Dust for ‘reasons’ he doesn’t want to elaborate on. Your child will inherit his powers and will be almost as strong as him one day!

Husk:

Okay…so first of all, the elephant in the room. His alcoholism. I don’t think Husk would completely stop drinking, but would tone it down for the sake of you and your child. When he’s drinking/drunk, he would make sure he wasn’t around your child, not wanting that kid to see the ‘real’ him.

He would totally be a girl dad. He would completely deny it but we all know it’s true. Like Alastor, if your daughter wanted him to dress up, have a tea party with him, etc. I think it would take a little more convincing than Alastor but in the end he would do it.

Would be overly protective. ESPECIALLY AROUND ALASTOR. Husk would make sure that your child was atleast six feet away from the deer demon at all times. Husk obviously has lots of experience with Alastor as a person, so he of all people knows that Alastor could (and maybe would???) manipulate his spawn into a deal.

Angel Dust:

Angel is extremely excited…but…He is nervous. VERY anxious.

Angel would be a good dad, but he is worried about his deal with Val. Who knows what Val would do if he found out he was in another relationship…let alone with a child! When the child in question is born, he does everything in his power to hide them from Val.

If Val found out, he would be pissed. After calming down (barely), he would try to get your child under contract to punish Angel. Therefore, Angel is obviously very protective. Angel would teach your child how to be street-smart and survive on the streets of hell. Your child would learn from Angel’s mistakes.

Lucifer:

WHAT? HES GONNA BE A DAD (again)!? He is so stoked. Before the baby is even born they have everything they could ever want. Anything for his little duckling.

Your child would be homeschooled, but not by you. By the most well-known and well-educated members of Hell’s society. Your child is truly getting a million dollar education. Oh! And if your child decides to get a higher education after high school? It’s already taken care of. Lucifer makes sure that there are schools ready to take your child to college before your baby even turns two!

For some characters, I feel like they would either be girl dads or boy dads, but Lucifer could truly be either. With a little girl, I could totally see him playing dress up or Barbies with her, no problem! With a boy, same thing.

Vox:

Your child hit the jackpot. I mean…who wouldn’t want the richest overlord in all of pride to be their father? I just pray the kid doesn’t come out looking like a leapfrog or iPad…

Your child would be an iPad kid (vPad?) They would have all the newest technology and toys, they wouldn’t even know what to do with it all! Seriously though, this kid 100% has a playroom just filled with all the toys Vox either made or bought for them. He definitely spoils them (and you).

Your kid is a nepo baby. As they get into their teenage years, Vox would make sure they started to gain fame. Whether it’s by singing or acting (or both), or becoming a powerful overlord like himself, Vox would help them reach that.

Both you and Vox would make sure that your baby is supervised around Val and Velvette, if Vox even lets the kid around Valentino. He does NOT want Valentino trying to swindle them into a deal.

Valentino:

Bestie...What were you thinking? Let’s be honest. Valentino would not be the greatest dad. Definitely not the worst, but not great.

He would 100% leave your kid unsupervised. You’d better always be watching because he definitely isn’t. Speaking of supervision, Val would just randomly bring your child into his studio…When the two of you are spending ‘time’ together, he would either get Vel or Vox to watch the baby, or one of the souls he has under contract. Is surprisingly overprotective.

Val would teach make sure your child knows Spanish, threatening to ‘disown the brat’ if they refused. Luckily, you are there to stop Valentino from going off on your baby. Your child definitely learns a few Spanish swears from him.

TYSM FOR 1K NOTES GUYS! I really appreciate the support. As of now, this is my most liked post ever. I’m glad you guys enjoyed it so much! Thank you! <3

[sweetmapple]

@alberichfanpage mentioned that Freyja talks about Jerren but even if we had the option to ask Ansbach about Varre, I’d imagine we’d get something like this

[ickyyrus]

hey thats a big fish

[pericardium-and-glass]

Godrick x Sir Knight (OC). Crossing the city gates.

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Characters in different genres.

Physical touch has always been something that's exchanged through violence for Sir Huffman. As is expected of his job.

Then there comes Jack Desmond, a silly toon who's somehow managed to worm his way into the scary man's cold heart.

[AUDIO USED:] Pharrell Williams & Trey Parker - Hug Me

[iamquiantrelle]

BLOOD OATH (chapter 8) • iamquaintrelle

# pairings: mob!lewis hamilton x black reader (☔️⚡️)

# tags: @queenshikongo3 @peyiswriting @ggaslyp1 @pickingupmymercedes @donteventry-itdude @snowseasonmademe @szariahwroteit @beauty-gurl @jessnotwiththemess @sailurmewn @lewismcqueen @purplerain-94 @vintagesoul-01 @lostennyc @saintslewis @cocobutterqwueen @purplelewlew @imjustheretomanifest @mauvecherie-writes @httpsserene-main @peaceiswonderful @scorpiobleue @deeziee @krystiana @maximofflove @palefacestudentlove @justagirlwho-believes13 @fadedintime

# wc: long af...

# summary: A marriage of convenience between crime families was supposed to be simple. No one mentioned it would be this complicated...or this deadly. series masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

Morning light spilled through the curtains, catching dust motes dancing in the golden beam. You stirred, registering the warmth of Lewis's arm draped around your waist, the unfamiliar comfort of waking up completely entangled with someone else. Three days since that first kiss, and your body still tingled at the memory of how thoroughly Lewis Hamilton approached everything he decided was worth his attention.

You shifted slightly, surprised at how quickly things had changed between you. The movement made Lewis pull you closer against his chest.

"Stop thinking so loudly," Lewis murmured against your hair, his sleep-roughened voice sending warmth through you. "Too early for whatever's going on in your head."

You laughed softly, surprised at how easily he read you now. "I didn't know thinking had a volume."

"Yours does." His hand slid along your arm in a gentle caress. "It's practically deafening."

The casual touch caught you off-guard—this playful version of Lewis so different from the controlled crime lord whose reputation had preceded your arranged marriage. In three days, he'd become increasingly affectionate, his restraint giving way to a tenderness that manifested in constant touches and soft kisses that left you wanting more.

"Just... processing," you admitted, finding it strange how easily honesty came now.

Lewis's eyes opened, focusing on your face with an intensity that still made your breath catch. "Regrets?" he asked directly.

"No," you replied immediately, surprising yourself with your certainty. "Just adjusting to the new normal."

His expression softened, though his eyes remained watchful. "You mean how I can't seem to stop myself from kissing you, or how your uncle keeps giving me those looks over breakfast?"

Heat rushed to your cheeks, remembering Paolo's barely concealed amusement. Yesterday, your uncle had taken one look at you—hair still messy from a make-out session in the library—and said something in Italian that made Carmen snort coffee through her nose while Lewis pretended not to understand.

"God, he's so embarrassing," you groaned, burying your face against Lewis's chest. "Like some teenage boy making jokes."

Lewis's laugh vibrated through you, the sound still rare enough to feel like a victory. "To be fair, he did find us in the library yesterday."

"We were just kissing!" you protested, though the memory of Lewis standing too close, his hand on your waist and his voice dropping to that tone that never failed to make your stomach flip, undermined your point.

"Sure we were," Lewis agreed, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. "Just like we're just talking now."

The shift happened quickly—from sleepy conversation to charged awareness. Lewis's eyes darkened as his fingers traced your cheekbone, each touch expertly calculated to get a response.

"We have the security briefing in thirty minutes," you reminded him, though your body was already leaning into his touch.

"Plenty of time," Lewis replied, his eyes dropping to your lips.

Something sparked inside you—that competitive instinct now channeled into something far more pleasurable than business negotiations.

"For what?" you asked, your voice teasing though your heart was already racing.

Lewis's response was to lean forward, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. His hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as his mouth moved against yours with growing intensity. You melted into him, your fingers sliding into his braids, pulling him closer.

There was something about the way Lewis kissed you—confident but never pushy, passionate but still somehow restrained, like he was holding part of himself back even as he pressed you closer. It drove you crazy in the best possible way, made you want to break through that last bit of control he maintained.

When you finally pulled apart, both breathing harder, Lewis rested his forehead against yours. "Good morning," he whispered, a rare smile spreading across his face.

"Morning," you replied, feeling almost shy despite the intimacy you'd just shared. This was still new territory—allowing yourself to be vulnerable, to want someone this way.

Lewis brushed his lips against yours once more, softer this time. "We should get up," he said, though he made no move to pull away. "Before Jensen comes looking for us."

"Five more minutes," you murmured, leaning in to steal another kiss. You felt his smile against your lips as he pulled you closer, his hand sliding to your waist.

Five minutes turned into fifteen, both of you lost in each other as morning kisses grew more heated. Lewis's hand stayed respectfully at your waist or tangled in your hair, never pushing for more than you were sharing, but the intensity between you built with each passing moment.

"God, you're addictive," Lewis breathed against your neck, pressing gentle kisses along your throat that made you shiver. "I could do this all day."

The genuine wonder in his voice made your heart flutter. This was Lewis Hamilton—powerful, dangerous, controlled—admitting that kissing you made him lose track of time.

Carmen's voice calling up the stairs that Jensen and Paolo were waiting in the communications room finally broke the spell. You both reluctantly pulled apart, reality intruding once more.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror—flushed cheeks, slightly swollen lips, hair a mess from Lewis's fingers—and felt a moment of disbelief that this was your life now.

"You look thoroughly kissed," Lewis observed with satisfaction, brushing his thumb across your lower lip. "It suits you."

You rolled your eyes, even as warmth bloomed in your chest at the possessive edge in his voice. "And you look smug. Not exactly professional for a security briefing."

Lewis's gaze met yours in the mirror, something unexpectedly serious replacing his playfulness. "I don't give a damn how it looks. Not anymore."

The simple declaration caught you off-guard—Lewis Hamilton, master of control, deliberately discarding the professional distance that had marked your early interactions.

"Well, I do," you countered, turning to straighten his collar with unsteady hands. "My uncle already thinks you've corrupted me. No need to give him more ammunition."

Lewis caught your hands, pressing a kiss to your palms that carried both tenderness and promise. "If he only knew how much I want to," he murmured, eyes darkening with desire that he continued to keep carefully in check.

Five minutes later, you were in the communications room with Lewis, Paolo, Jensen, and Naomi, reviewing yesterday's trap operation. The contrast between your heated bedroom moments and tactical planning should have been jarring, but somehow felt like complementary parts of your new reality.

"Package one was accessed at three this morning," Jensen reported, showing data on the main screen. "Corsaro's channel. Initial patterns looked normal, but there was a second access at 4:17 with data being sent through encrypted servers."

"Where did it go?" Lewis asked, his posture now carrying that coiled readiness that marked his professional focus, though his hand rested lightly at the small of your back.

"Bounced through multiple servers," Naomi said, pulling up a map with routing indicators. "But final locations cluster around southern Florida. Miami, specifically."

"Suarez," Paolo confirmed grimly, the playful uncle from breakfast now replaced by your father's most effective enforcer. "Fucking Corsaro. Thirty years with the family, and he sells us out for what? Gambling debts?"

"Maybe," Lewis replied, studying the data patterns with narrowed eyes. "Or maybe it's misdirection."

You moved closer to the screen, examining the transmission patterns, Lewis's hand shifting to your shoulder in a subtle gesture of support. "What do you mean?"

"The patterns are too clean," Lewis explained, pointing to the timing indicators. "Too methodical. Corsaro's impulsive, erratic in how he communicates. These transmissions are precisely timed, consistently structured. Almost like—"

"Like someone wants us to think it's Corsaro," you finished, the possibility becoming clear as you studied the evidence. "You think he's being set up?"

Lewis glanced at you with brief approval warming his expression, his thumb stroking a small circle against your shoulder. "It's worth considering. Especially with what's at stake."

Paolo rubbed his jaw, reconsidering with new skepticism. "Could be. Mike's always been a hothead, acts on impulse. These transmissions look like someone who plans every move."

"Could Corsaro have cleaned up his act?" Naomi suggested. "If Suarez is paying him enough, maybe he's being more careful."

"Possible but unlikely," Lewis countered. "People don't change their patterns overnight, especially someone with decades of habits."

You nodded in agreement. "And if someone was setting him up as the mole, that would explain the discrepancies Uncle Paolo mentioned earlier—how shipping routes were compromised without Corsaro having access to all that information."

Jensen pulled up additional data, showing transmission patterns from past months. "The historical data supports that. Previous leaks happened when Corsaro was in Atlantic City, physically away from our secure servers."

"So if not Corsaro," Paolo said slowly, "then who?"

A heavy silence fell as you all considered the implications. If Corsaro was being framed, the actual mole wasn't just betraying your father's organization but strategically misdirecting suspicion—a more sophisticated approach than simple betrayal for money.

"What about the other packages?" you asked, returning focus to the immediate investigation. "Did Venucci or De Garza access their versions?"

"Both checked their information, but no transmissions went out from either channel," Naomi reported. "Normal access patterns consistent with routine security reviews."

"Which tells us nothing if Corsaro's being framed," Paolo pointed out. "The real mole could have used Corsaro's channels rather than their own."

Lewis was already moving to another computer, typing quickly. "Our team has been monitoring all digital access points since we identified the leak. Let's see if anyone else accessed Corsaro's systems during or before the transmission."

The screen filled with scrolling data, access logs that meant little to untrained eyes but clearly told Lewis and his team a story. You moved closer, watching over his shoulder as his fingers continued typing commands.

"There," he said suddenly, highlighting a sequence of codes. "Secondary login credentials accessing Corsaro's account at 3:52, fifteen minutes before the outbound transmission. Routed through internal systems to hide where it came from."

"Can you track it?" Paolo asked, leaning forward with renewed attention.

Lewis's expression shifted toward something darker, more predatory, as his fingers danced across the keyboard. "Already working on it. The masking is good, but our systems are better."

The tension in the room ratcheted up as Lewis worked to unravel the digital disguise hiding the betrayer in your father's organization. Minutes stretched in silence, broken only by the sound of keys clicking and occasional muttered curses from Paolo as new data appeared.

Finally, Lewis sat back, his expression grimly satisfied. "Got it. Terminal access in your father's New York office. User credentials belonging to Antonio De Garza, using Corsaro's login to access the data and send it out."

"De Garza?" Paolo looked genuinely shocked. "He's been like a son to your father. Practically raised him in the business."

"Which would give him access to information beyond his official clearance," you noted, the betrayal landing with so much personal impact. Antonio was a close family friend, your driver, a man who covered for you so many times. "And the trust needed to operate without suspicion."

Lewis was already reaching for his phone, forwarding the evidence to the rest of the team. "We need absolute confirmation before taking this to your father. De Garza's position means any accusation will have major consequences if not completely supported."

"My people can start watching him immediately," Paolo offered, reaching for his own phone. "Track his movements, monitor his contacts, build physical evidence to back up the digital trail."

"I should call my father," you said, the obligation clear despite the complications. "He needs to know we've identified the potential source, even if we're still gathering evidence."

Lewis glanced up from his phone, that subtle protective shift in his posture now so familiar. His hand reached for yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We'll set up a secure line in my office," he agreed. "But let's wait until the team confirms the digital evidence. We need absolute certainty before taking this to Salvatore."

The use of your father's first name rather than "your father" registered as another small but significant shift—Lewis positioning himself as equal rather than subordinate in the family hierarchy.

The discussion continued, plans forming for surveillance and evidence gathering, with Jensen coordinating security protocols while Naomi prepared briefing materials. Throughout, you found yourself increasingly aware of Lewis's physical presence—the subtle ways he positioned himself near you when possible, the brief touches when passing documents, the way his eyes sought yours during key decision moments.

Paolo noticed too, his expression shifting between knowing amusement and something more complicated when he thought no one was watching. Your uncle had watched you grow from headstrong child to calculated adult. The changes in you since marrying Lewis—not just the obvious physical affection, but the evolution toward genuine partnership—clearly registered with someone who knew you so well.

"We're getting alerts from the perimeter sensors," Jensen reported suddenly, attention shifting to a secondary monitor showing the estate's security grid. "Eastern approach, just beyond the tree line. Multiple signatures moving in formation."

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly from planning to immediate threat response, Lewis moving toward the security station with predatory focus. "How many?"

"Six signatures, moving in pairs." Jensen zoomed in on the display, highlighting heat signatures moving through the forested area. "Movement pattern looks like a professional team, not local trespassers."

"Local police?" Paolo suggested, though his tone indicated he already knew the answer.

"No," Naomi confirmed, examining the movement patterns. "No registered law enforcement operations in this area, and they're avoiding standard patrol routes. Definitely not official."

Lewis's expression had hardened into something cold and focused, the playful lover from your bedroom completely replaced by the dangerous strategist who had built an empire from nothing. "Interception team alpha, deploy to coordinates 44-27. Beta team, establish containment at secondary boundary markers. No one gets through, no one gets out without direct authorization."

As security personnel moved with practiced efficiency, Paolo was already checking his weapon with the calm competence of someone who had faced similar situations countless times.

"Your people or mine?" he asked Lewis, the question carrying no challenge despite its potential for conflict.

"Combined team," Lewis replied without hesitation. "Your men know Suarez's tactics, mine know the terrain. Working together gives us the best coverage."

"We should move you to the secure room," Naomi suggested, addressing you directly. "Underground access, reinforced walls, separate communication systems independent of the main house."

The recommendation made perfect tactical sense—isolating high-value assets during a potential security breach. Yet something in you rebelled against the passive role.

"No," you said firmly, your decision suddenly clear. "I'm staying in the communications hub. I need to see what's happening."

Lewis glanced at you, something complex passing through his expression—assessment and approval and concern somehow simultaneously present. His hand moved to your shoulder, a gentle squeeze conveying his support. "Security team delta stays here regardless," he said after a brief pause, neither contradicting your decision nor fully endorsing it.

The compromise reflected the partnership that had been developing since Geneva, tactical cooperation alongside growing personal connection. Different from your father's approach, which would have simply ordered your removal without discussion.

"Approaching visual range," Jensen reported. "Tactical feed online in three, two, one..."

The main screen filled with body-camera footage from the interception team, images slightly shaky but clear enough to show dense forest giving way to the eastern edge of the estate, where the stone wall provided a barrier between the property and surrounding wilderness.

"Target acquired," came a voice through the communications system. "Six individuals, military-style movement, carrying what appear to be tactical equipment bags and weapons."

Lewis moved closer to the screen, his expression now carrying that deadly focus you'd glimpsed when he ordered Bianchi's execution—calculated lethality rather than emotional reaction. "Maintain position. Let them commit to approach first."

The tension in the room increased as you all watched the infiltration team move closer to the estate boundaries. These weren't random intruders or local troublemakers—they were a tactical team with a specific objective, moving with precision that suggested extensive preparation.

"Breaching equipment," Jensen observed as one figure removed items from their bag. "They're planning to create access through the eastern wall section, likely targeting the security blind spot we discussed in the briefing."

"The honeypot is working," Lewis noted with grim satisfaction.

"Interception teams in position," came another voice through the system. "Awaiting authorization for engagement."

Lewis's eyes never left the screen as the infiltration team began setting up what appeared to be controlled breaching charges along a section of the ancient stone wall. "Hold position," he instructed, voice carrying that quiet intensity that commanded immediate compliance. "We want prisoners, not just deterrence."

"Breaching charges set," Jensen reported, tension in his voice the only indication of his concern. "Detonation sequence appears to be starting."

"Defensive teams, prepare for breach," Lewis instructed, his posture shifting subtly toward greater readiness. "Contain and capture, lethal force only if absolutely necessary."

The next minutes unfolded with tense precision—the breaching charge detonating with controlled force that created access through the ancient stone wall, the infiltration team moving through with tactical discipline suggesting military or specialized security background, interception teams allowing entry before closing the trap with synchronized efficiency that left no route for escape.

The firefight was brief but intense. Within minutes, the estate's combined security forces had neutralized the threat, three infiltrators dead and the remaining three subdued with minimal injury.

"Perimeter secured," came the report through communications channels. "Three prisoners in custody, being transported to secure holding area as instructed."

Lewis turned to Jensen, his expression now carrying that cold focus that reminded you of exactly who you had married. "Prep the workshop for interrogation. I want them separated, no communication between them, full monitoring of all interactions."

"Yes, sir," Jensen replied before leaving.

"Naomi, coordinate with your team to begin identifying the prisoners. I want to know who they are, who sent them, and what exactly they were after before they've even reached the holding area."

"Already on it," Naomi confirmed, her fingers flying across her keyboard.

Throughout this exchange, you found yourself watching Lewis carefully—the seamless shift from tactical leader to interrogation strategist highlighting the dangerous capability that existed alongside the increasingly gentle man he had become in your private interactions.

"I want to be there," you said suddenly, your decision forming with surprising clarity. "For the interrogation."

Lewis's attention shifted fully to you, that penetrating assessment scanning your expression. "Why?" he asked, neither refusing nor agreeing.

The question made you pause, examining your own motivation with the honesty that had been developing between you. "Because I need to see it," you admitted. "To understand exactly what we're facing, without filters or sanitized reports."

Something shifted in Lewis's expression—recognition rather than surprise. His hand came up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, the tender gesture at odds with the tense situation. "It won't be pleasant," he warned, voice dropping lower. "Interrogation rarely is, especially with professionals who know what's at stake."

"I grew up in Salvatore Ricci's house," you reminded him, meeting his gaze directly. "I've seen interrogations before."

"Not mine," Lewis replied simply.

The implied difference registered immediately—your father's theatrical approaches versus Lewis's likely more calculated methods, different objectives shaping different techniques.

"Even more reason I should be there," you countered. "I need to see all of the operation."

Lewis's eyes narrowed slightly as he registered the challenge. "Alright," he agreed after a moment. "But you stay behind the observation glass. No direct interaction with prisoners, no matter what happens in the interrogation room."

The condition was reasonable. "Okay," you replied, nodding your agreement.

Paolo approached with an uneasy expression on his face. "You sure about this?" he asked, addressing you directly while glancing toward Lewis.

"I'm sure," you confirmed. "I need to see exactly what we're dealing with."

Paolo nodded slowly. "Your father wouldn't like it," he observed.

"My father isn't here," you pointed out. "And I'm not just his daughter anymore."

Lewis's hand found yours briefly, the contact hidden from others but carrying reassurance. "We'll head down in ten minutes," he said. "Jensen will have everything prepared by then."

The "workshop" proved to be a converted wine cellar beneath the main house, its ancient stone walls providing both soundproofing and temperature control. Modern lighting had been installed along stone arches, creating bright light that left no shadows. A one-way glass partition separated the observation area from the central interrogation space, where a single metal chair had been bolted to the floor.

"First prisoner is being brought in now," Jensen informed Lewis as you entered the observation area.

Lewis nodded, surveying the space. "Start with standard disorientation protocols. I want baseline established before direct intervention."

"Package incoming," Naomi announced, indicating the approaching security team with the first prisoner.

The man they brought in didn't match stereotypical expectations—mid-thirties with unremarkable features, build suggesting regular exercise, clothing practical rather than tactical. The kind of person who would blend perfectly into any crowd, attracting no attention.

Jensen's team secured him to the chair, the prisoner offering no resistance beyond initial tension when restraints were applied. No dramatic defiance or theatrical threats, just wary assessment of surroundings and silent calculation as he scanned the space.

"Professional," Lewis observed quietly beside you, his shoulder pressed against yours in silent support. "Not first-line operative but not amateur either. Note the physical control, the absence of emotional display despite stress indicators in his posture and breathing."

Lewis's words directed your attention to details you might otherwise have missed. The interrogation began with surprisingly mundane questions—name, nationality, current residence, employment history—delivered by someone from Jensen's team.

"Baseline establishment," Lewis explained, noting your questioning expression, his voice soft near your ear. "Identifying speech patterns, physical tells, reference frameworks before applying actual pressure."

After establishing the preliminary patterns, Jensen entered the room—his presence immediately shifting the dynamic despite maintaining the same calm professionalism.

"We know you work for Raúl Suarez," Jensen stated plainly. "We know you were sent to breach the Hamilton estate with specific objectives. What we don't know is whether you're worth keeping alive or not."

"I have nothing to say," the prisoner replied.

Jensen nodded as if this were a valuable contribution. "That's your choice. But before you commit to that position, you should understand the alternatives. Mr. Hamilton will be joining us shortly. He has particular interest in your team's objectives regarding his wife. His methods when personally involved tend to be more... direct than our standard protocols."

The mention of Lewis produced the first genuine reaction from the prisoner—subtle but detectable tension in his shoulders, a micro-expression of concern that was quickly masked.

"Interesting," Lewis murmured beside you. "He really knows who I am." He then straightened his shoulders. "Time to continue the conversation," he said, voice carrying that deadly focus that still sometimes caught you off-guard.

"Are you going in there yourself?" you asked, something tightening in your chest that felt like worry.

Lewis's eyes met yours, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Yes," he replied simply. "Some questions need personal attention to ensure accurate answers. Remember our agreement," he added, his voice softening slightly. "Behind the glass, regardless of what happens in there."

You nodded despite growing unease about what Lewis's direct interrogation might entail. Before he left, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the tender gesture at odds with the situation.

"It'll be over soon," he promised quietly.

As Lewis moved toward the interrogation room door, Paolo stepped closer to you—his presence offering silent support without commentary or unnecessary reassurance.

"He's different than I expected," Paolo said quietly, his eyes tracking Lewis. "More... controlled than most in his position."

Lewis's entry into the interrogation room shifted the atmosphere immediately—the prisoner's posture tensing despite attempts at composure, Jensen stepping back with subtle deference while remaining present for support.

"You know who I am," Lewis stated rather than asked, voice carrying that deadly quiet that somehow commanded attention more effectively than shouting ever could. "Which means you understand exactly how this conversation ends if I don't get the information I need."

The prisoner remained silent, though his breathing had quickened despite efforts to keep control.

"Let me be perfectly clear," Lewis continued, removing his jacket with methodical precision that somehow made the gesture more threatening than dramatic display would have been. "I don't enjoy this part of operations. I don't have satisfaction from physical persuasion or take pleasure in causing pain."

He rolled up his sleeves with the same careful efficiency, exposing the tattoos that covered his forearms—the patterns you'd traced with your fingers last night now visible in clinical light as he prepared for whatever would follow.

"But I am exceptionally good at it," Lewis added with matter-of-fact certainty. "Because I see it as tactical necessity rather than emotional indulgence. Which means I apply exactly the effort required to achieve objectives—no more, no less."

The distinction was delivered with cold precision—more disturbing than theatrical threats would be.

"Last chance to cooperate," Lewis said, placing his watch on the metal table. "Tell me who sent you, your orders regarding my wife, and your extraction protocols."

The prisoner remained silent, though sweat appeared on his forehead despite the cool cellar.

"Very well." Lewis nodded to Jensen, who placed a metal case on the table and opened it.

Your breath caught seeing the contents. Not crude tools but specialized ones designed for effectiveness with minimal permanent damage, surgical rather than savage, yet more disturbing for their purpose.

"Jesus," Paolo muttered beside you, assessing professionally rather than judging. "Your husband doesn't fuck around."

"No," you agreed quietly, unable to look away. "He doesn't."

Lewis selected forceps-like tool, examining it with familiar ease. He then moved behind the prisoner, placing a hand on his shoulder with gentle precision. "The key of interrogation is understanding vulnerabilities. For some, it's a pain threshold. For others, fear of disability. But for professionals like ourselves, it's often fear of mission failure that provides the greatest leverage."

Suddenly Lewis's movements accelerated—applying precise pressure to the junction between neck and shoulder. The man jerked violently, a cry escaping despite training.

"Brachial plexus," Lewis explained clinically. "Stimulate it correctly, and pain radiates through the entire arm without permanent damage. Useful before moving to more lasting methods."

The forceps twisted slightly, drawing another sound as the prisoner's composure cracked.

"I won't repeat questions," Lewis continued, releasing pressure before reapplying at a different angle. "Instead, I'll increase intensity until speaking becomes more tolerable than silence."

From your position behind the glass, you found yourself watching with complex emotions as the interrogation unfolded. Lewis's methods were precise and calculated, nothing like the theatrical displays your father's men often employed, but equally effective. The prisoner eventually broke, providing the information Lewis sought.

"Suarez," he gasped. "Raúl Suarez. From Miami."

Lewis eased pressure slightly, a reward for cooperation. "We already knew that part," he replied steadily. "Continue with information we don't already possess."

"Primary target extraction," the prisoner continued, words spilling faster as his resistance crumbled. "Female, mid twenties, black hair. Wife of property owner. To be taken alive, unharmed, sedated for transport."

"Destination?" Lewis pressed.

"Private airfield thirty miles south. Jet waiting for immediate departure to secondary location." The man's breathing came in short gasps. "Coordinates programmed into team leader's GPS. I don't know the final destination."

Lewis's expression remained controlled despite the evident anger in his eyes. "The extraction protocol. Specifically."

"Breach perimeter, locate target, administer sedative, secure for transport using specialized restraint system." The words rushed out now. "Non-lethal approaches for all security personnel except primary male occupant. Hamilton. You. Standing kill order for you only."

That part made you gasp audibly; killing Lewis while taking you alive, confirming Suarez's motivations was personal.

"Suarez's personal instructions?" Lewis asked.

"She wasn't to be marked. Not a scratch." The prisoner's eyes darted toward the observation glass. "Said she was meant to be his. That you stole what belonged to him."

Lewis's control slipped momentarily, his pressure increasing beyond calculated application into something carrying genuine anger.

"Details of Suarez's current location," Lewis demanded, voice harder than before. "Where is he coordinating these operations from?"

"I don't know," the prisoner gasped, desperation evident. "Team assignments came through intermediary. Santiago. Florida-based operations manager. We never met Suarez directly."

"Santiago's full name and location," Lewis pressed.

Names, locations, communication protocols, extraction routes, and contingency plans flowed as Lewis continued his work.

When the interrogation was finally over, Lewis stepped back, carefully removing the forceps before wiping his hands on a cloth Jensen provided.

"Have medical examine him, then secure in isolation," Lewis instructed. "Keep monitoring for any additional details he might remember once the shock wears off."

As Jensen complied, Lewis turned toward the observation window—eyes finding yours with unsettling accuracy despite the one-way design.

You felt Paolo shift beside you, his presence momentarily forgotten during the intensity of the interrogation. "I should check on the surveillance teams monitoring those extraction routes," he said. "Make sure they're maintaining position."

His departure left you alone when Lewis entered the observation area moments later, the heavy door closing behind him.

Neither of you spoke immediately, the weight of what you'd witnessed creating momentary uncertainty.

"That was..." you began, searching for words.

"Who I am," Lewis finished simply, neither apologetic nor defensive. "Part of it, at least."

"I know," you replied, matching his honesty. "I've always known. Theoretically, at least."

Lewis moved closer, his proximity creating awareness—the same hands that had applied precisely calibrated pressure now reaching for yours with careful gentleness.

"Theoretical understanding is different from direct observation," he said, his eyes searching yours intently.

"He was going to take me to Suarez," you said. "That's what this was about."

Lewis's expression hardened momentarily. "Yes," he confirmed, no attempt to soften reality. "Alive and 'unmarked,' according to specific instructions."

"And kill you in the process," you added. "Not capture or negotiate. Just kill."

"It's standard approach," Lewis acknowledged with a nod.

Before you could respond, Lewis's arms were around you, pulling you against his chest in a protective embrace that surprised you with its intensity. His hand cradled the back of your head as he held you close, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

"I won't let him touch you," he murmured against your hair, the promise carrying absolute certainty.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him just as tightly. This was new for both of you—seeking comfort in each other, acknowledging vulnerability instead of hiding it beneath strategic calculation.

"I know," you replied simply. "Just like I won't let him hurt you either."

Lewis pulled back slightly, looking down at you with an expression that made your breath catch—tender and fierce and vulnerable all at once. Without a word, he lowered his head and kissed you, his lips gentle. Your hands slid up to cup his face as you kissed him back, pouring everything you couldn't yet say into the connection.

When you finally broke apart, Lewis rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he took a steadying breath. "This changes our timeline," he said, returning to tactical reality though his arms remained around you. "Suarez moving faster than we thought means we need to move up our counter-measures."

"So what's the play?" you asked, deliberately echoing his phrasing from previous tactical discussions, your fingers absently stroking the nape of his neck. "How do we respond to this without creating more problems?"

"We focus on identifying the mole and apply pressure points against Suarez," he replied.

"Through Santiago," you suggested. "The operations manager."

"Exactly," Lewis nodded, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before reluctantly releasing you. "We should get back to the others," he said, his voice warm despite the seriousness of the situation. "Coordinate the revised timeline with the current intelligence."

You nodded, but as Lewis moved toward the door, something prompted you to speak before the operational urgency took over again.

"Lewis," you said, causing him to pause with his hand already on the door handle. "What I saw in there..." You hesitated.

He turned back, eyes holding yours with that penetrating focus that still sometimes made your breath catch. "Yes?" he prompted.

"Thank you," you said finally. "For protecting what's yours."

Something softened in his expression as he crossed back to you in two quick strides, cupping your face in his hands. "Always," he promised, before kissing you again, this time with a possessive intensity that left you breathless.

As you rejoined the operational planning already happening in the communications hub, Carmen caught your eye from across the room—her sharp gaze taking in both your composed expression and the way Lewis kept you close to his side, his hand resting at the small of your back.

"You saw," she stated rather than asked, moving closer while others focused on tactical coordination.

"Yes," you confirmed, neither elaborating nor hiding the reality of what had happened.

Carmen studied you for a moment longer, something like approval in her eyes. "And you're still here," she stated.

"Where else would I be?" you replied, genuinely confused.

Carmen's expression softened briefly, rare vulnerability replacing her usual directness. "Many women in our world choose not to see certain sides of the men they marry," she said quietly. "Easier to have comfortable illusions than acknowledge the whole reality."

Her words reflected her own experience, understanding the common patterns among women in your shared world, between those who chose willing blindness and those who accepted complete reality despite its occasionally disturbing moments.

"I'm not interested in comfortable lies," you replied honestly. "Never have been."

"No," Carmen agreed. "You're not. Which makes you exactly what he needs, whether he fully realizes it yet or not."

Before you could respond, tactical planning reclaimed immediate priority—Jensen approaching with updated security assessments, Naomi reporting preliminary findings from her team's analysis, Paolo returning from coordination with the perimeter teams.

Throughout the renewed operational focus, you found yourself watching Lewis with growing awareness of exactly what his protection entailed—the calculated violence when necessary, the precise application of force, the cold efficiency with which he eliminated threats to what mattered most.

As tactical planning continued around you, Lewis's eyes met yours across the room—that moment of connection amid operational activity that had become increasingly frequent since Geneva, silent communication requiring no words. He offered you a small, private smile that warmed you from the inside out.

*************************************************

Later, when the immediate crisis had been handled and plans set in motion, Lewis found you alone in the library. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if reassuring himself that you were still there, still safe.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his hand stroking your back in soothing circles.

"Yes," you replied, resting your head against his chest.

Lewis tilted your chin up gently, searching your eyes. "Still no regrets about us?"

The vulnerability in the question caught you off guard—this dangerous, powerful man asking if you regretted the connection growing between you.

Your answer was to stretch up on your toes and kiss him softly. "Not a single one," you murmured against his lips.

Lewis's arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving against yours with growing urgency. You melted against him, your hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders, holding on as the kiss intensified. His restraint was still evident—his hands remained at your waist and back, never straying further though you could feel the tension in his body, the careful control he maintained even as he pulled you closer.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing harder, Lewis rested his forehead against yours. "You're making it very difficult to focus on security protocols," he murmured, a rare smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Good," you replied, surprising yourself with your boldness. "You think too much."

He laughed softly, the sound warming something deep inside you. "Says the woman who analyzes everything."

"Maybe we're rubbing off on each other," you suggested, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Lewis's eyes darkened slightly, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "I like the sound of that."

A throat clearing from the doorway broke the moment. Paolo stood there, his expression caught between amusement and embarrassment. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, not sounding particularly sorry, "but Jensen needs Lewis in the communications room. Something about the satellite data from Miami."

Lewis nodded, reluctantly stepping back though his hand lingered on your waist. "Tell him I'll be right there."

Paolo gave you a knowing look before disappearing back down the hallway.

"Duty calls," you said, echoing Lewis's words from earlier that morning.

"Always does," he agreed, brushing his lips against yours one more time. "But this isn't over," he added, his voice dropping to that lower register that never failed to send shivers down your spine.

"Promise?" you asked, smiling up at him.

His answering smile was slow and full of promise. "Count on it."

As Lewis left for the communications room, you found yourself alone in the library, your fingers absently touching your lips where his had been moments ago. This growing connection between you was still new, still evolving, but there was no denying its power. It had transformed into something neither of you had anticipated—something that made your heart race and your mind quiet in a way you'd never experienced before.

You moved to the window, looking out at the Scottish landscape stretching beyond the estate grounds. So much had changed in such a short time. The woman who had arrived in Scotland still wary of her strategic husband was being replaced by someone who looked forward to his touches, who sought his kisses, who found herself thinking about him at odd moments throughout the day.

The realization should have been frightening—vulnerability had always been something to avoid in your world—but instead, you felt strangely calm. Whatever was developing between you and Lewis wasn't a weakness to be exploited but a strength neither of you had counted on.

After dinner had been cleared and plans finalized for the coming days, Lewis found you in the small sitting room adjacent to your bedroom. You were curled up in an armchair, watching the flames in the fireplace dance and flicker against the darkening sky outside.

"Hey," he said softly, leaning against the doorframe. "Mind if I join you?"

You smiled, gesturing to the empty chair beside yours. "It's your house."

"Our house," he corrected, crossing the room to sit next to you. "At least for now."

The casual assertion of shared space shouldn't have affected you as much as it did, but the simple "our" warmed you more than the fire.

"Any updates from Jensen's team?" you asked, though business was the last thing on your mind.

Lewis shook his head, reaching out to take your hand, his thumb tracing patterns against your skin. "Nothing that can't wait until morning." His eyes met yours, something soft in his gaze that made your breath catch. "I thought maybe we could just... be here. Together. Without tactics or strategies or security protocols for a little while."

"I'd like that," you replied, squeezing his hand.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching the fire and enjoying the simple connection of his hand in yours. The quiet intimacy felt new but somehow familiar, as if you'd been doing this for years instead of days.

"What are you thinking about?" Lewis asked eventually, his voice gentle in the firelit room.

You considered deflecting with something tactical or trivial, but the honesty that had been growing between you pushed for a different answer. "Us," you admitted. "How different this is from what I expected when I agreed to marry you."

Lewis's expression softened, his eyes warm as they held yours. "Different good or different bad?"

"Different good," you replied without hesitation. "Very good."

Something in his posture relaxed at your words, as if he'd been holding tension you hadn't noticed until it eased. "For me too," he said quietly. "I didn't expect... this."

The admission hung between you, neither of you quite ready to name what "this" was, but both acknowledging its growing importance.

Lewis tugged gently on your hand. "Come ‘ere," he said softly, shifting to make space for you.

Without overthinking it, you rose from your chair and moved to his, settling against him as his arm wrapped around you. The position should have felt awkward—the chair wasn't really meant for two—but somehow you fit perfectly, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm secure around your waist.

"Better," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You relaxed into him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear surprisingly comforting. This casual physical affection was still new, still something you were getting used to, but you couldn't deny how right it felt to be held by him.

"Tell me something about you," you said, surprising yourself with the request. "Something I don't already know."

Lewis was quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing patterns against your arm as he considered. "I used to draw," he said finally. "When I was younger. Mostly architectural designs—buildings, bridges, structural elements."

The revelation was unexpected. "Really?"

You felt him nod. "It was my first interest, before I got pulled into all of this. I wanted to be an architect." There was no bitterness in his voice, just simple acknowledgment of a path not taken.

"Do you still draw?" you asked, curious about this newly revealed facet of him.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Not often. Mostly when I'm planning something particularly complex and need to visualize the components."

"I'd like to see your drawings sometime," you said softly.

His arm tightened around you slightly. "Maybe," he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Your turn now. Tell me something I don't know about you."

You considered what to share, what small piece of yourself to offer in this quiet moment. "I used to dance," you said finally. "Ballet, from when I was six until I was fifteen. My father thought it would teach me grace and discipline."

"Did it?" Lewis asked, his fingers now gently playing with your hair.

"The discipline part, definitely. The grace..." You laughed softly. "I was better at the technical aspects than the artistic ones. My instructor used to say I approached dance like a military operation."

Lewis chuckled, the sound rumbling pleasantly through his chest. "That I can picture."

"Hey!" you protested, playfully swatting his arm.

He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss that made your heart skip. "I meant it as a compliment," he said, his eyes warm with amusement. "Precision is underrated."

"Smooth recovery," you murmured, settling back against him.

The conversation flowed easily after that, small revelations and quiet laughter as the fire burned low in the grate. You found yourself sharing stories you'd almost forgotten—childhood memories, teenage rebellions, moments that had shaped you—and listening just as eagerly to his. Different backgrounds but surprising parallels, the children of powerful men finding their own paths.

When you finally fell silent, comfortable in the shared quiet, you realized how natural it felt to be here with him like this. How easily you'd slipped from strategic partners to something much more personal.

"It's getting late," Lewis said eventually, though he made no move to let you go. "We should probably get some sleep."

You nodded reluctantly, not wanting to break the bubble of intimacy you'd created, but knowing tomorrow would bring renewed focus on the operational tasks ahead.

Lewis stood, keeping you steady as you both rose from the chair. His hand found yours as you walked to the bedroom, fingers intertwined in a gesture that had quickly become familiar. He smiled, a real smile that transformed his usually serious face and made your heart flip in your chest. Then he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

You melted into him, your arms sliding around his neck as the kiss intensified. There was something different about it—less restraint, more hunger, though still tempered with control. His hand splayed across your lower back, pressing you against him as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance that you readily granted.

The kiss turned heated, a slow exploration that made your head spin and your body warm. His hand tangled in your hair, angling your head for better access as he deepened the kiss further.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing harder, Lewis rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. "We should stop," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "Before I forget why we're taking this slow."

The admission that he wanted more, that he was deliberately holding back, sent a thrill through you. "And why is that again?" you asked, your own voice breathless.

Lewis's eyes opened, dark with desire but still warm with something deeper. "Because you deserve better than rushed decisions made in the middle of a security crisis," he said, pressing a softer kiss to your lips. "Because I want you to be absolutely sure about what you want. About who you want."

The tenderness in the statement made your heart ache in the best possible way. This was so far from the cold, strategic marriage you'd expected—this man who looked at you like you were precious, who prioritized your certainty above his own desires.

"I'm getting more sure every day," you admitted, your hand coming up to trace the line of his jaw.

His smile was slow and full of promise. "Good," he murmured, kissing you once more, softly this time. "So am I."

As you prepared for bed, moving through the now-familiar routine of sharing space, you found yourself contemplating how much had changed. You lay with your head tucked against Lewis's chest, his arm wrapped securely around you, and you listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. This growing comfort in physical closeness still surprised you—how easily you'd adapted to seeking his touch, to finding peace in his embrace.

tbd......

[cry-ptidd]

Tried a new style