o1: ritual.
"I love you." Timothée's voice is sweet as he smiles into the phrase. It's a bidding of farewell as he leaves for his morning schedule, but when you turn the corner to see him off, he hadn't even had the door opened.
Instead he was waiting for you; shoes on, with his hands in his pockets, and a grin on his face. You roll your eyes and walk over to him.
"Have a good day." Your hands come to his shoulders to pull him into a kiss. His grin widens as you pull away, and he rested his hands on your forearms.
"You too." He says, sliding a hand to reach yours to give your knuckles a small kiss.
You end up finally chasing him out with a laugh, but he leaves only thinking of you, and how he can't wait for the end of the day to see you again.
o2: remedy.
"I love you." You whisper the three words like a spell against the shell of Timothée's ear and he can't help but sigh. Today was horrible; stress and pressure had built towers upon his shoulders and he wouldn't let them break down on him. Not in public at least.
He didn't even take his jacket off when he fell face first into your bed, head landing straight into your lap.
Your fingers left the pages of your book to run through your boyfriend's chocolate locks. Your heart ached as silence filled the room. You wished that you knew some sort of magic spell to wipe all his problems off the universe; but you couldn't.
The closest thing to magic you knew how to do for Timothée was leave the bed for a moment to rummage through your dresser for an extra pair of clothes for him to change into. He hadn't moved an inch when you came back but once he felt your gentle touch on his shoulder, he complied with your silent request to roll over and sit up.
You try to keep a neutral face as you stand between Timothée's legs to bring him into a hug. You feel him sigh into your chest; where his head rested. His arms wrap around your middle and he gives you a squeeze.
Timothée finally cracks a smile when you pull away from the hug and bring your hands up to his cheeks to kiss his forehead.
He knows how sweet you are; how you wished you had solutions to all his problems, and how you hated that you didn't. But that was okay with him. Being there to be with him at the end of the day was solution enough.
o3: spell.
"I love you," He chants it desperately between pants against your lips. Almost as if he didn't remind you every day. I love you. I love you. I love you. Like a spell he'd cast to make you his forever.
You casted the phrase back. I love you too. And gasp when you feel Timothée's hands travel below the waistband of your shorts.
Two of his nimble fingers found themselves spreading your slit, and you find yourself grinding against his digits to feel some sort of relief.
"I've barely done anything and you're already this wet for me..." He seems unaffected but you were hovering over his lap and felt his growing length pressing against your thigh. All you could do was bury your head into the crook of his head and nod.
The action makes him smirk as two of his digits slide into your core. You squeak and tense up at the sensation, and Timothée's mouth lovingly finds your neck.
All he can think of is how much he loves this. He loves how sensitive you are. He loves how he knows that it's so easy to get you riled up just because it was him. He loves how your hips buckle against his fingers when he curls them just how you like it. He loves how your juices drip over his digits and how your whole body shakes when he gets you off with just his fingers alone.
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