cream crackered tbh love

The private detective likes to keep them neatly stacked on the counter amongst his knick knacks. The bathroom also has an adjourning walk-in closet where his many luxury suits and nice shoes are neatly stored. 

He even paid a pretty penny to have one of those home organizers come out and make it extra spiffy. To this day he says it was worth it. All because this is his mancave area where he becomes the March Man, right? 

“So, why in the world am I standing on a fluffy orange rug and why does the bathroom smell like vanilla?” Holland mutters to himself. He looks around the room and scratches his chin, blue eyes narrowing a bit.

He's just rolled out of bed and came into the bathroom to do his morning ritual, but he's distracted now.

There’s even some products on the sink that aren’t his: a spankin' brand new toothbrush, soft hand towels hanging, some kind of automatic air freshener, and more.

He doesn’t really mind it all per say and the room does feel nicer. As if the space has been given what it has been missing, but he still has to get to the bottom of this promptly.

“Sweetheart?” Holland calls out as he hurries back into his bedroom.

You are laying in bed wrapped in the comforter still, looking cozy as you lounge in one of his blue button down shirts. Evidence of a few hickies can be seen poking out the collar and your hair is still messy from last night's activities.

The sight causes him to smile shyly and rub the back of his neck. Sometimes it still catches him off guard how wonderfully different his days feel when he starts them with you.

“Yes, Holl?” You ask with a sleepy smile.

Right, he needs to focus on the mystery at hand. Holland clears his throat and points at the bathroom door.

“There’s a lot of new stuff there. Do you know if Holly is trying to pull one over me? I’m trying to get to the bottom of why there's a soft fluffy rug and other stuff that doesn't belong to me."

He wouldn’t put it past his sneaky daughter to be doing some kind of prank on him.

You tilt your head and let out a small laugh. “What? No silly, I’ve been bringing some items over lately. You only just noticed?”

Holland’s eyes widen as your words dawn on him. He mentally replays all the stuff he noticed and feels like the biggest fool in the world.

“Shit. I guess so. I’ve just been really distracted, you know my cases keep me busy.” He says quickly, running a hand through his messy dirty-blonde hair.

“Ah, right.” You say carefully. “Um, does it bother you? It’s just lately I spend more nights over here than I do in my own place, so I grabbed some cute decor stuff too. I didn’t even realize it was that much until a few days ago."

Holland mulls that over. It’s true. Over the past few months of dating, you’ve become a real fixture in the March household. Most nights after work you stop by and have dinner with them. It just became natural for Holland to want you to stay over and cuddle–amongst other things.

He had made sure Holly didn't have a problem with it and since the two of you got along wonderfully, it's been amazing.

Fuck, I’ve probably given them the wrong impression.

Holland takes the last few steps to the bed and sits on the edge next to you. He reaches over and leans in to place a sweet kiss on your forehead as he cups your cheek.

“No, darling. It doesn’t bother me at all, I genuinely just didn’t realize. I guess after my wife, I never considered sharing private spaces like this with a partner.”

Normally, it would have been very hard for Holland to admit something like that, but grief counseling has helped him come leaps and bounds.

“That’s completely understandable.” You say gently, leaning in to Holland’s touch easily. “It’s an adjustment for me too.”

“Yeah, you’ve never even lived with anyone before, right?”

“Just family and I’ve never dated anyone seriously like this either."

Holland nods and brushes a finger over your lips in a way that makes your gaze flicker down to his shirtless form.

“Well, don't worry, my love. I’m open to the change even if I am a little slow on uptake.”

You let out a giggle. “You’ve seen the closet too right?”

Holland lets out a dramatic gasp. “Tell me you didn’t disrupt the organizational structure Tiffany implemented?”

You roll your eyes. “I followed the chart posted on the wall, I swear.”

Holland lets out a low chuckle before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that leaves you breathless.

“Jeez Louise, you’re a keeper.” He murmurs, forehead pressed against yours.

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and pull him in for another lip lock. When you finally let him go, there's a mischievous way about you.

“All yours, Mr. March. Later, I’ll show you some of the things I put in the nightstand. Those are just for you to see and enjoy.”

Holland smirks, remembering last weekend when you had brought over a blindfold and some other interesting toys.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to see. But, seriously uhh bring whatever else you like. I can handle it. I like you being here and your things.” He assures with a twinkle in his bright blues.

You search his handsome face thoughtfully for any doubt one last time.

“You're really sure, Holl?"

“Absolutely, baby."

He Loves exploring you with a capital L. Your body is so different to his, so human and malleable and sensitive. He'd do whatever it takes to get you off, like it's his goddamn purpose in life just to please you. When you agreed to take him into your bed for the first time he let out an actual 'yippee!' and, since then? Well it's always been about you. About your body. About your pleasure. He's come just from fingering you. Something about seeing your wetness webbing over his knuckles just sends him over the edge, you guess.

And today? Today he's found your clit. He is obsessed that such a tiny part of your body can have you arching your back for him and howling his name. You think it may actually be his new best friend but hey, you aren't complaining.

It's just... it's been half the day and he won't stop. Overstimulation is one thing. This might just be madness. The bed is so soaked that you think you'll need to shop for a new goddamned mattress tomorrow.

Ken's thumb swipes just right across the little nub and you scooch back a bit, gasping as you go. He looks at you with such surprised sadness that it's like you just kicked a fucking puppy in front of him.

"Baby?" he asks, lovesick and cunt-drunk, "Do you... do you not like it?"

"I do, Ken, I do," you choke. Of course you fucking like it, he's made you orgasm about seven times. "'M sensitive, is all."

"Oh, okay. Is that good?"

"Can be. I've just come a lot, sweetie."

"And you liked it? I'm doing a good job?"

"You are, yeah. A very, very good job."

He triumphantly fist-pumps the air using his free hand. It's so cute you can't help but laugh, but then he's back to your clit and you're moaning.

"Can I make you come just one more time? Please-please-please?"

You might be in charge, but you're powerless against the big blue eyes staring up at you from between your legs. Your thighs are numb and your pussy will never be the same, but you settle back against the pillows.

"One more, then we're taking a shower."

Ken’s too into this. He knows he’s in too deep but there is nothing he can do.

His breathing is too heavy and tries his best to silence himself in the closet, holding his breath for as long as he can, but it makes him feel lightheaded, and he ends up gasping for breath even louder than he started out. 

Luckily, you’d put some music on your phone, and are too busy looking around your room as though you know something is off but can’t tell what. 

Ken stops worrying about how loud he’s breathing and feels pride rise in his chest as he realises this.

He did a good job. He’d gathered information about you, picked up a few souvenirs along the way, and has potentially stopped you from wasting your time with some poser from the internet named Luke. He rolls his eyes again at Luke’s name. It feels bitter both on his tongue and in his mind.

He watches you place your vibrating toy back in its pouch and close it away in the bedside drawer, confusion evident on your face, before you head for the chest of drawers. You pick up the trinkets that were knocked over, and carefully take off your jewellery, placing it in the little tray on the top. 

Then, Ken’s eyes go wide. You’re pulling your shirt over your head, kicking off your jeans, and you’re suddenly standing there in nothing but your underwear. And you look incredible.

Intense arousal pulls at his cock and a little guttural groan forces it’s way up from his chest. He manages to muffle it against the fist he jams between his teeth.

You bend to slip off your underwear next and with an eye full of your bare ass, he swallows hard, pushing a hand into his shorts and fisting his cock fast.

You turn around, and Ken almost passes out, precum leaking from his tip and dropping to the carpet in thick, shimmering beads as he sees you completely bared to him.

Your eyes dart to the door then as you realise you hadn’t closed it all the way. Covering yourself with your hands, you peer out and call his name, and then click it shut. 

Little do you know he’s ahead of the game. He’s not out there, peeking at you though a crack in the door, because people don’t do that. He’s in here with you, furiously jerking off while you potter around your room completely nude and unaware. 

After all, you had said this was okay. You’d said he could jerk off as long as it wasn’t where you could see him and you said not to peek through the gap in your bedroom door. Isn’t this the perfect solution? He can see you and he can jerk off — all within the guidelines of your agreement!

He watches you rifle through your underwear drawer and feels a thrill run down his spine, the hot pink underwear burning in his pocket.

‘Where on earth-?!’ you sputter, heading to your laundry hamper.

Ken makes a mental note to check that out next time – he bets it’s full of delicious treasures.

‘Where the hell-’ you mutter, resigning yourself to a different pair.

You pick up a hair claw next, Ken’s eyes are intense on the curve of your body as you stretch your arms up to pin your hair.

Sweat pours down Ken’s forehead and his knees turn weak as his orgasm approaches. He grabs at a sweater hanging up on the rail by his head, pressing it to his face and biting into the wool to keep from crying out as he braces himself to finish.

His ears prick up then. Your phone buzzes, and you flop down onto the bed, reading the message, getting comfy as you type our your reply.

He can’t believe his luck. You’re completely naked, laid out on your bed with your head propped on the pillow he’d fucked into just moments ago, and you’d no idea. 

As he watches you, his mind wanders back to his fantasy of you fucking yourself to the thought of him in his hot little outfit, after spending all day trying not to stare, your fingers sliding through your silky folds... he remembers how wet you were for him when he dipped his fingers in, and how you moaned… oh he’s such a good boyfriend touching you like that-

And that does it. He spills with force, pink, glittery seed coating ths inside of his shorts with a good helping shooting beyond the waistband to get lost somewhere in the closet, too. The pleasure is blinding as he tries to keep it under wraps; it’s somehow more thrilling like this, somewhere he could get caught.

He breathes deeply into the sweater, which perfectly muffles his post-orgasm whimpers, and it drops from the hanger as though he was meant to have it.

When he can see straight again, he peeps out between the slats to find you’re wrapped in a towel now, still completely unaware of his presence, and you’re heading out of the room, presumably to shower.

He wipes his cum coated hand clean on the sweater, and slowly swings open the closet doors, far more surreptitious now, in the clarity of his post-orgasm haze.

As he goes to step out of the closet, though, his foot catches something.

It’s dark in there, but with the doors open now, he can see enough to make out that it’s an old cardboard box.

He kneels down, carefully opening it up as he hears the water beginning to hit the tiles in the bathroom. 

There’s a lot of what looks like old junk in here. Used notebooks, trinkets, a couple of cell phones that look like the kind he’d seen early 00’s Barbie’s and Ken’s have as accessories... 

And a doll.

He pulls it out, and if he wasn’t ready to pass out from seeing you strip bare while his hand was down his pants, he is now. 

You have a Ken doll. Not just any Ken doll, either. A Shaving Fun Ken. You liked to play with Kens?

A tear forms in the corner of one eye, and he clutched the doll to his chest for a moment. 

Remembering himself, he stands up so fast he turns dizzy, sending a few spare clothes hangers clattering to the ground and almost knocking himself out in the process, but he manages to grab the sweater, check he still has your underwear in his pocket, clutch the Ken doll, and shoot back to his room.

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By the time you’re finished in the shower, Ken’s laid out on the sofa with fresh shorts on, watching some horror movie you vaguely recognise as you pass through to your room, wrapped in a towel, skin glowing and warm from the heat of the water.

Ken likes you like this. Soft and warm and smelling of that delicious body wash you always use, the remainders vaporizing into jasmine scented bliss on the drifting steam. 

‘Hey,’ he says, casual, pretending not to look up from the TV.

Hoping you’d go unnoticed, you startle. ‘Hey, Ken.’

‘Anything planned tonight? I thought we could watch a bit more Supernatural. I’m getting really invested in that angel guy- what’s his name?’

‘Oh- it’s Cas- but listen, I- I’m meeting a friend tonight,’ you lie.

Well. It’s kind of a lie, kind of the truth; you’re not exactly more than friends with Luke yet and Ken didn’t need to know the finer details.

He’s quiet for a moment as he considers this before turning to you. His voice is a little more menacing than he intends when he asks with a tilted head and a forced grin, ‘Didn’t you just see your friends for lunch?’

‘Well, I did, but-’

Ken laughs, loud and obnoxious. ‘Just trying to catch you out!’ he chuckles faux-playfully. Then, the façade drops into a scarily fast straight face. ‘I know you’d never lie to me.’

For a split second, you consider asking if he’s seen your pink underwear to counter his interrogation, but come to your senses. Of course he hasn’t! So with an awkward laugh at his bizarre sense of humour, you simply disappear into your room.

But Ken can be patient when he wants to be. He waits for you to emerge looking like a million dollars. He’s not expecting you to tell the truth – but he can at least unsettle you enough before you leave that your mind won’t be on anything but him.

You’re out of your room within fifteen minutes, and you do indeed look fantastic. Ken’s jaw drops, even though he expected it.

You notice his reaction, and your heart skips.

‘Don’t wait up,’ you say casually. ‘We can catch up with our shows tomorrow, okay? Just me and you.’

You’re simply trying to divert attention from where you’re going, but you’ve no idea what your promises mean to Ken.

‘Of course,’ he smiles, ‘Tomorrow. Can’t miss girls night.’ 

The last words are spoken through gritted teeth and under his breath as he remembers girls night every night in Barbieland, whether it applies to you or not. And it doesn’t. Not really. This is nothing alike. But Ken is beginning to feel abandoned all the same. And for what? Some cheap lookalike when you have the real thing laid out on your sofa at home?

Ken feels better for letting out a little venom, and quickly moves on, deciding the best course of action is a snack and his favorite movie to clear his mind. And then, he can plan for your return.

Standing to head for the kitchen, he stretches, his arms rising high above his head as his open shirt lifts. 

There they are. Your pink pants, the gentle lace around the elastic peeking out above his beach shorts, bright against his perfectly tanned skin.

‘Ken-’ you start.

‘Hmm?’ he replies, completely unaware.

But you think better of starting this. Not now. You at least want to be on time for Luke, so tomorrow, you’ll ask Ken why he’s taken to wearing your underwear.

Besides, it’s probably an honest mistake, right? After all, Ken wears a lot of pink and he might have some similar pants that simply got mixed up in the laundry... maybe.

‘Nothing,’ you breathe. ‘Just don’t eat all the chocolate alright? I’ll want some tomorrow night.’

‘Sure,’ he smiles, ‘have a good time!’

‘Thanks,’ you utter, and hurry from the apartment before he can take over your thoughts even more.

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Luke greets you first with a friendly hug when you’re shown to the table where he’s waiting for you in a smart, crisp t-shirt and pants. His tattooed arms are toned and his face is pretty; he looks just like his picture on the app, and you feel relief at that. For a moment.

‘So, what kind of underwear do you have on?’ he whispers in your ear before he pulls away from the embrace, and you wonder if you’re hearing him correctly.

‘What?’ you breathe as he slides your chair out for you, thinking back to Ken, wearing the ones you'd intended to put on.

Luke natives your discomfort and moves on, asking what your roommate is like. Another odd topic, but slightly more normal for the first few seconds of meeting, you suppose.

You feel your cheeks heat up when you think about Ken and the glorious contrast of fuchsia lace against his toned body, but suppress it and try to describe Ken without spilling your deepest, darkest thoughts.

‘He’s kind of quirky,’ you say, trying not to look Luke in the eye.

‘What’s he look like?’ Luke presses.

‘Uh- he’s t-tall,’ you stutter, ‘blonde.’

‘You like ‘em tall and blonde, huh?’ he smiles and you force your focus down to the menu in front of you. 

Is Luke reading your mind? Because right now all you can think about is Ken stretching, his always-exposed abs, his sparkling eyes-

‘I’d be up for meeting him,’ Luke adds.

‘I don’t have a crush on my roommate,’ you blurt.

‘Oh. Okay.’ Luke looks confused and kind of… disappointed?

I have more than a crush on him, your intrusive thoughts force to the forefront. I wish I was with him right now.

‘Do you wanna take me to your place?’ Luke asks, curiously.

‘No. Luke, I’m sorry,’ you say firmly, your chair scraping as you get up from the table, ‘I don’t think this is going to work. I’m gonna go.’

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Slumping through the front door, you find Ken in his usual spot, laid on the sofa with the TV remote in one hand and a snack in the other, and butterflies rise in your gut. You're so glad to see him, and the feeling blindsides you a little.

‘Oh, hey,’ he says, genuinely surprised as he sits up to greet you. ‘You’re early? And you caught me! I was eating the chocolate.’

‘I don’t really care about that,’ you breathe, voice cracking.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ken asks. His face doesn’t match the concern he’s forcing, because he knows what's wrong, but you’re not really looking at him yet.

‘Ken, do you mind if I come sit with you for a while?’ you ask quietly, holding back a sob.

No matter how painful it is, Ken resists the urge to pump his fist in celebration.

‘Of course,’ he coos, ‘you sound… sad?’

‘Not sad, really, just… ugh, okay, I have to tell you something,’ you say as you drop down beside him. ‘I lied to you.’

‘Oh?’ Ken feigns surprise.

‘I wasn’t with friends tonight, I was on a date. But he ended up being a total creep.’

‘And that’s… bad?’ Ken checked.

‘Yeah, it’s not really what I’m into,’ you joke. It’s lost on Ken.

‘No, you’re far too classy to mess around with some creep who makes you feel sad! You can do way better.’

Ken’s arm slides around your shoulders, and he hopes you can’t hear the way his heart picks up when you curl into his embrace and rest your head against his chest.

‘I’ve already got better. Right in front of me. I know we’ve had a few… communication problems, but I do like you, Ken. I wish I could find a guy like you, who listens and doesn’t ask weird questions about my underwear or my hot roommate.’

‘Why would I ask about your roommate?’ Genuine confusion pulls at Ken's brow. ‘I am your hot-’

‘I know,’ you laugh, ‘it’s just a figure of speech. The bit about the question,’ you clarify, pushing up to look him in the eye, but his arm is still very firmly around your shoulders, penning you in, ‘not the bit about you being hot. Because you are actually- really, really ho-’

Ken thinks this must be what heaven feels like. He doesn’t even need to do anything, and you’re closing your lips over his, sliding a hand across the toned expanse of his chest, humming as he parts his lips to allow your tongue entry…

‘Wait, I’m sorry,’ you pant, breaking apart, ‘I told you we can’t do this and now I’m… oh god, Ken, I’m so sorry-’

‘No,’ Ken shakes his head. ‘I get it. I know roommates shouldn’t kiss. There are so many rules here, I can’t even beach – but who’s to say we can’t kiss if we feel like it?’

You stare at him, unsure. He's right. Kind of.

‘Does it feel good?’ he asks.

‘Yeah. Yeah it feels really fucking good,’ you breathe.

‘If it feels good, why let some silly made up rule stop you?’ he utters, pushing forward.

His lips taste like strawberry, and there’s chocolate on his tongue. It's a dark, sweet combination that suits Ken perfectly, and he’s smooth and soft and passionate. 

You wish he would touch you again, like last time, but he’s letting you take the lead now and you don’t want to cross too many lines in one night.

If you’re going to do this, you’re going to take it slow.

You break for breath, the obvious tent in Ken's shorts hard to ignore.

‘You really like me, huh?’ you ask, and Ken nods. ‘Is that… okay, I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Is that why you’re wearing my underwear?’

Ken freezes for a moment, but then-

‘Because they look so hot on you, I could barely focus on my date even if I'd wanted to.’

He wants to yell something like Yippee! in celebration of his incredible success, but he doesn’t think you’d like that right now, so he bites his tongue and maintains his poker face.

‘Is that right?’ he asks, as seriously as he can muster.

‘Mmhm,’ you nod, biting your lip. ‘He made me feel kinda gross, but you… even if you get it wrong sometimes, it’s… it’s kinda hot.’

You surprise even yourself at this revelation, but its out there now and you can’t take it back.

‘Ken,’ you go on, ‘you make me feel so wanted.’

‘Because I want you,’ he says simply, and it truly was the most effortless, honest thing he’d said to you yet.

Theres a pause then where the world around you seems to pause, and you just bask in one another, and Ken relishes in his cleverness, too.

‘I’m sorry if this has been a lot. I should go to bed,’ you smile, ‘and I suggest you do the same.’

As you stand up, you drag a light fingertip over the outline of his throbbing cock, and walk away pleased with yourself. It sure would be hot if he jerked off in your underwear tonight.

Stunned, Ken watches you slowly strut to your room and leaking into the pink cotton, immediately takes himself to do just that. But he doesn’t go to bed like you suggested, he does it in the shower.

He feels funny. His stomach is kind of… fluttery? His face feels hot and when he looks in the mirror, the eyes staring back at him are darker than usual, like his pupils have grown. Maybe that’s normal when you kiss here, he’s not really sure. When he tried to kiss in Barbieland, all he got was a dull ache in his stomach and an empty feeling in his chest. 

But his dick’s still hard, and since Ken’s don't have genitals until they became fully human, as soon as he learnt what it was, he promised himself he’d never waste a boner.

The water is warm when it hits his skin, the steam caressing his body where the water doesn't reach. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to how good that feels, the way it makes him flush all over, like a gentle massage.

He leans his head under the spray of the water first, wetting his hair and rubbing at his face. God, he can still feel your kiss tingling on his lips and tongue.

Shaking the droplets from his hair as he moves out of the spray, he braces himself with one hand against the cool tiles while the other wraps firmly around his dick.

He slides his hand slowly at first, hissing at how good it feels now he really has your attention. His knees buckle and he stills to catch his breath, wondering if you’re fucking yourself to the thought of him right now, too. He imagines you are. Of course you are. Your pink toy, coated in his saliva, sliding into you… he’s literally inside you right now…

With that he rolls his hips into his fist and climaxes, hard and fast, his sparkly spend splattering over the tiles and by his feet to swirl down the drain as he catches his breath and switches off the water.

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The next morning, you wake with a slight headache. You’d had sweet dreams of Ken, of his kiss – the consensual, soft one that he hadn’t pushed further, and you wondered if he would still feel the same today.

As for Luke… after cutting the date short, you’d not had a single message from him. You pick up your phone: no notifications from the dating app at all, and three messages in your group chat, no doubt asking how the date went.

Wincing, you put it down and head for the bathroom, hopping in the shower to freshen up for Ken.

No, not for Ken, for yourself.

But also, if you’re being honest, it’s also a little bit for Ken.

He must have been in here last night because his shorts are on the floor and there’s something pink and shimmery catching the light, glinting off the tiles that you don't recognise.

As you step under the water, you get a closer look. Whatever it is looks expensive, but you can’t see a bottle of anything like it… you scoop it onto your fingertips, rub at it with your thumb, sniff it – it’s slick and light and fruity.

Ken’s skin is always so smooth and maybe this is his secret? You rub the substance into your chest and go about your shower without a second thought, but the shimmer lingers on your skin even after you’ve dried off.

Ken’s in the kitchen when you emerge from the bathroom pink and warm and wrapped in a towel, and you feel heat creeping up the back of your neck as his eyes fall on you.

‘Morning Ken,’ you try, a little nervous.

‘Morning beautiful,’ he replies, and you see his eyes flock down to where you’d rubbed his product into your skin, intruge pulling his head to the side before he asks, ‘Would you like to join me for breakfast? I’ve got waffles!’

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Ken spends the next few days collecting as much of his spend as he can in a little empty container he found in the bathroom bin, peeled the label off and cleaned out. It's tiring work, but he's doing it all for you.

You begin to kiss Ken every night you watch TV together, light and with only a hint of tongue. But still, it’s enough to make his blood boil and rush to his cock each time. So when the kissing slows to a stop, he disappears into the bathroom and desperately jerks himself off with that addictive tingling feeling fresh on his lips.

When he wakes up hard, which happens most mornings, he gets off to the memory of you naked in your room, the images flashing before his eyes as the container fills a little more each time and his hungry little moans echo around the room.

And before long, it’s half full. So he places it strategically in the shower, just for you.

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Masterlist of all chapters

Thank you for reading, I hope this is shaping up to be the sicko Ken you'd hoped for!! Ken has no idea what he's letting himself in for to be honest...

I've never done a taglist before but I had a request for this specific fic, so if you want to be added for the final chapter(s) please let me know <3