Chapter Text
After about two days in the hospital, the staff were over the Baroness. Her usual stubborn attitude intensifies when she's in pain. There was a nurse in her room constantly listening to her complaints. Her temper was shorter, and she refused to tolerate incompetence. Often, if someone walked into her room, she reprimanded them. Her bitterness was sometimes directed towards you as well. You took her remarks with a grain of salt, knowing they were insincere.
When the Baroness' 3-inch heels clicked out the double doors, the nurses burst into cheer. You give them all a sympathetic smile as you follow the Baroness. Cameras flash in your face, temporarily blinding you. The press got a tip that the hospital discharged the Baroness. You assumed the Baroness was the one who tipped them off until you noticed the discomfort in her body language. Her face stayed stone cold, portraying confidence, but the falter in her steps and the shrinking of her shoulders told you otherwise.
She is vulnerable and uneasy. Without much thought, you begin walking in front of her. The Baroness is grateful for your interference, body blocking her from the cameras. The photographers groan and shout insults, urging you to move out of their shots. You hold your ground, focused entirely on protecting the Baroness' reputation.
You lead her to her tan Jaguar 420g. You open the door for her to get in, covering her the entire time. She brushes her hand against your arm and gives you an appreciative nod. You return the nod with a soft smile before closing her door and getting in on the other side.
After you take your seat, the driver starts the car, heading towards Hellman Hall. Although the hospital discharged the Baroness, she's not allowed to return to work for another week. She protested but eventually agreed to the terms of her recovery.
You rest your left hand on the middle seat cushion that separates you and the Baroness. With her right hand, she takes yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing lightly. Victoria tends to refrain from displaying acts of love -such as physical touch- in public, believing intimate moments should be private. Surprised, you turn your head to face her. Intense blue eyes meet yours, filled with tender emotions.
"Thank you, my dear," she whispers. You pull Victoria's hand to your lips, placing a chaste kiss on top, maintaining eye contact. She smiles, eyes displaying nothing but love and adoration. A faint blush paints her cheeks, surfacing through her makeup. You return the gentle smile and graze your thumb back and forth over the top of her hand, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin for the rest of the ride.
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The week passes, and the Baroness returns to the House of Baroness as her usual stern self. Designers cower in fear as she struts past them with a smug grin. Watching the terror she inflicts in the hearts of others fills her with joy. She forbids her employees from discussing the charity gala, shooting daggers at anyone brave enough to defy her.
Today, she summons you to the design room. She has her hand on her hip, and she is scolding a designer, so you sneak into the room without knocking. You don't think she'll mind anyway. She can see you through the glass doors. She glances in your direction, and her gaze softens for a millisecond before she snaps back to the designer harshly.
"Your designs lack flavor, and you have no taste. A toddler's scribbling is better than this rubbish.". She directs her attention to you, and her designer faces you as well. Her tone changes completely, going from ruthless and commanding to gentle and understanding, stunning her employee. She doesn't catch her mistake.
"Y/N, my dear. What would you do to fix this hideous piece?". You walk over to her desk and examine the drawing pad. It's a boring strapless dress that clings to the figure's body. The design isn't as bad as the Baroness claims, but it does lack creativity. You reach across her desk to grab a pencil, unaware of the designer's lingering gaze. The Baroness notices and glares at the man, resisting the urge to wrap her arm around your waist possessively. You are hers after all, and she doesn't appreciate a man ogling over you. The designer shrinks into himself, staring at his loafers to avoid her gaze.
You take the pencil and alter the design, adjusting the bodice and adding straps. You put an evening wrap with a large bow on the front to produce the dramatic collar you know the Baroness enjoys. Although it's a bit basic, you keep the tight silhouette, knowing it will balance out the extravagance of the bow. You sketch creases in the design, creating the illusion of a snug fit. Overall, you're proud of the altercations, and based on the Baroness' hum from over your shoulder, she likes it too.
"Impressive," she praises. You blush as she compliments your work and brushes her hand against yours to spin the drawing pad toward her designer. She pulls her straight razor out of her pocket and taps it against the sketchbook.
"Now, this is fashion. It would do you well to learn a thing or two from my assistant.". The man scoffs. The Baroness damaged his ego, so he uses arrogance as a shield. He stands, showcasing his masculine frame in an attempt to intimidate her. The man begins rambling about his design and how the Baroness is a stuck-up posh bitch. You're extremely close to biting his head off, but you know the Baroness is capable of defending herself.
She places both of her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows with an amused smirk. She allows the man to have his tantrum. His words have little effect on her. Eventually, she grows bored with his speech.
"Stop talking," she commands. The man's jaw falls open, appalled. There's a gap of silence before the man takes a breath to speak again. The Baroness cuts him off. "Ah, a gap. You're fired.". The look on his face was priceless. He goes to protest, but the Baroness snaps her fingers and points at him. Two guards that you didn't notice enter the room come up behind the man. Grabbing him by the bicep, they escort him from the building.
Once the guards remove the ex-designer, the Baroness falls into her office chair carelessly. She crosses her lengthy legs and rests her elbows on the desk. Massaging her temples, she sighs dramatically. You chuckle softly at the Baroness' theatrics and approach her from behind. You glance through the glass, making sure no one is watching. Placing your hands on her shoulders, you lean forward and kiss her cheek lovingly.
"Don't let him get to you. You're far better than him, pretty girl." A soft smile forms on her dark cherry lips. She moans quietly when you dig the pads of your thumbs into her tense muscles.
"I know, my dear. It's just tiring, dealing with imbeciles all day.". She leans her head back and sighs pleasurably as you continue massaging the knots from her shoulders. You smirk and lean down to whisper in her ear. "I can help with that.". Victoria turns to face you, eyes heavy with lust. "Go on.".
A smile stretches across your face as you begin to kiss her neck. You're surprised she's allowing you to continue. She tends to be quite apprehensive about having romantic interactions in public. Although, you haven't had sex since Cruella's attack. You wanted to ensure she was fully healed before participating in such activities.
As you trail kisses from her neck to her collarbone, her breathing quickens. You run your hands up and down her arms before pulling her chair back. You sink to your knees before her, uncrossing her legs. You slip her feet out of her heels, careful not to touch her ankles. You kiss up her muscular stocking-cover calves before stopping at her knees. Your fingertips dance along her thighs teasingly as you push her skirt to her hips.
You toy with her garter belt and gently caress her skin. Nipping and sucking her thighs, you watch the spot on her lingerie grow darker with a burning desire. The feeling of her pulse and twitching muscles against your lips send heat to pool in your stomach.
Soft moans leave Victoria's slightly parted lips as she watches you work. Her breath hitches when your teeth wrap around the band of her underwear, pulling them down her legs. You glance up to meet Victoria's eyes, silently asking for consent. She nods, spreading her legs wider and running her elegant fingers through your hair.
You accept her invitation willingly, gripping her thighs and running your tongue through her folds. She shutters above you and sighs deeply at the new sensation. Closing her eyes and leaning her head back, she allows the pleasure to wash over her. You continue teasing her, occasionally dipping your tongue into her entrance before sucking her clit into your mouth. You hum against the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending a shock of pleasure down her spine.
Suddenly, Victoria grips your hair, pulling you away from her dripping cunt. She rolls her chair forward and pushes you under her desk before there's a knock at the door. She ignores the throbbing between her legs and clears her throat.
All of her designers file into the room with sketchbooks clutched tightly to their chests. You glance at your watch and mentally curse yourself. It's time for daily design presentations. You figure Victoria's out of the mood until you notice her throbbing. A mischievous smirk paints your face as you part her legs again and dive in.
Victoria notices your movement under her desk as she attempts to focus on the designs before her. She feels your hands against her heated skin. Before she can swat them away, your tongue prods at her entrance. Her eyes widen and she coughs to cover a moan. She glances at you and glares, tugging on your hair harshly as a warning.
You smirk into her, doubling your efforts to see how long it takes her to dismiss everyone. After a few skillful flicks, Victoria can't handle it anymore. Sweat drips down her shaking thighs, and her face is flushed. Gripping her desk with white knuckles, she cuts off one of her designers mid-sentence.
"Out!" she commands shakily, holding back another moan. Her designers give her strange looks. She glares in return. They all know better than to disobey her, so they follow her demand. Collecting their design pads, they all scurry out of the glass double doors.
The second the room is cleared, Victoria pushes her chair back. Spreading her legs wide, she yanks you by your hair. She shoves you into her needy center. She lets out a loud moan, shocking for a woman of her status. Her hips rock against your face as your mouth works diligently to pleasure her. Your nose brushes against her clit as your tongue thrusts into her roughly, hitting her sweet spot. Your jaw aches, but you aren't stopping. Soon, she cums on your tongue. A profound moan of your name rises from her throat, overpowering the lewd noises between her legs.
You gently lap at her cunt to clean her up. You help her ride out the aftershocks, and she strokes your hair lovingly. You listen to her soft panting and unintelligible praises as she comes back down to Earth.
Eventually, she pushes you away, becoming over-sensitive. You rise from your knees with a smug grin. Wiping her excess from your chin, you lean forward and press your lips to hers. She moans in your mouth, enjoying the taste of herself on your tongue. She pulls away from you to catch her breath, and you move to redress her.
"Thank you, my dear," she whispers between pants. You kiss her neck and reply. "You're welcome, pretty girl. I...". Three words lay upon your tongue, threatening to escape past your lips. The three words you've been hesitant to say for fear of scaring Victoria away. All of that worry dissipates when you stare into her blue eyes. Her gaze holds nothing but love as she's sprawled out before you.
Her chest flushed and heaving, lipstick smudged against her swollen lips, and a genuine smile paints her face. At that moment, she looks more beautiful than you could ever describe. At that moment, you knew. She is the woman you will spend eternity with.
Caressing her cheek with a loving smile, you utter the three words. "I love you.".
"I love you too, Y/N.".