#fat fmc

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She said she'll take ten minutes.

It's been 45.

I sink back in the car seat, leg extending forward as much as I can.

I can't believe that little menace fooled me to sit in the parking lot while she gets her nails done.

Ridiculous.

I should have known. Seen that coming.

My phone has given up on me, the network is barely catching a single bar.

So I find myself scrolling through my gallery.

Very manly. I know.

It's all her.

One on the bed, hair splayed across the pillow, shirt lifted enough for her soft tummy to spill.

Another one, she isn't looking at the camera, brows furrowed as she tries to put a thread through the needle.

I had bet she wouldn't be able to.

I had also, won.

God, she gave me the silent treatment for two hours, I nearly lost my mind.

I don't know when my lips tugged in a smile.

Sitting alone in a stuffy car, smiling like a fool at my phone because my girlfriend is pretty.

Lords help me.

But I don't really wanna be helped.

Another fifteen minutes pass with me staring at pictures of my woman.

Like I'm a war widower.

Like she isn't 20 steps away getting her nails done.

"pathetic," I murmur to no one in the car, but swipe to the next picture anyways.

Eventually my phone decides to die on me.

Because today I'm being abandoned by everything.

First my girl, who tricked me.

Then myself for being so pathetic in a car park.

And now my phone.

Great.

I rest my head back against the leather seat, eyes dropping closed for a second.

Because her pictures do two things to me.

One, they remind me what a lucky bastard I am.

Two, they make it difficult to sit in tight spaces because now, my jeans are two sizes too tight.

Wonderful.

Eventually my gaze traces the passenger seat, where she'll come and sit like she owns the car, which, true — she owns me.

Fuck, when did I get so whipped?

Then my eyes lock onto her clutcher.

Hung loose on the seatbelt, the blue large claw clip she adores.

I realise it's been there for days.

Maybe more than that, in that exact position.

My eyes narrow.

If it's her favourite, why is it hung on the seatbelt instead of holding her pretty curls up?

It takes me a minute. Two.

"Bloody hell," I breathe

I let out an amused huff as my mind finally decides to catch on.

"You're marking territory, aren't you?" My voice echoes in the empty car.

You couldn't pay me to stop grinning right now.

I'm gonna be staring at that clutcher a whole lot from now on. No doubts about it.

She's a possessive gremlin.

And before I know it, I'm stealing a pic. Evidence purposes, of course.

--|--

Saturday evening, sun dipping low, TV playing muted in the background

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Sometimes I sit and simply look at her, like a lovesick fool.

A stray strand of hair, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, my shirt hangs loose on her soft, plush frame. God, she's beautiful.

The problem isn't even that I stare, it's that I know I'm staring and I still don't stop.

She's scrolling on her phone. Endlessly. Like that thing held the secrets to the world, eyes glued to her favourite pastime, Tumblr.

Because of course, my girl was obsessed with Tumblr. Had to be.

She caught me staring. For the third time in the past half hour.

"I'm gonna report you for being creepy." she rolled her eyes

Brat.

"I'd like to see you try, sweetheart." I said, easy smile.

Her eyes meet mine, something in my chest shifts.

I'm so doomed for her, it's almost pathetic. As if I care.

"Very cocky," she shakes her head "keep this behaviour up and you'll end up behind bars."

Dramatic as ever.

"Oh," my eyebrows raise, just enough for her to catch.

"I see how it is," an amused grin, the one I know drives her a little crazy.

"if I'm gonna end up behind bars either way," my hand hooks around her ankle and I pull, dragging her across the couch.

That earns me a squeak — fucking adorable.

"Might as well commit the crime, yeah?" one of my thighs sits between hers — hovering above her.

My thumb brushes her warm inner thighs, dipping in the soft expanse "what say?" I drag my nose under her jaw.

That gets my name spilled in a startled whisper.

I can feel her skin heat up, in the way her breath shallows, I've spent months learning her.

"Illegal move!" She breathed, forever exaggerating, her fingers clenched in my shirt.

It only makes me grin wider.

My hand slid down her soft sides, fingers brushing her love handles before climbing back up.

"Shh," my lips are an inch away from her reddening ear.

"Everything's fair in love and war, right?" my lips punctuate that with a soft peck below her earlobe, a huge contradiction to where my thoughts were.

My thumb brushes her hardening nipple through my shirt.

She lets loose a tiny sound, it sends heat down my spine.

"So blog, sweetheart." her thighs settle around my waist, the weight of them dragging my hips against hers "and I'll do what interests me." a nip at the mark I left last night.

Her glare is weakened by the way her legs are wrapped around me, pulling me closer subconsciously.

I lower myself slowly, lips latching around the stiff peak through the shirt, teeth nipping just to hear what I knew was about to escape her lips.

"..Bastard" almost a whine

My fingers pinch the other, satisfied with the response "Only for you," a smirk settles subtly across my lips.

Okay, maybe not so subtle.

"Fuck you," she whispers, lacking any heat whatsoever.

"Patience, darling." I would fight demons for the expression on her face right now, and because I love making my girlfriend red — I wink at her. Before diving back in, of course.

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