With a deep sigh you finish cleaning up yours and Reigen’s small but cosy apartment, ready for him when he returns from work soon. Although you work under Reigen at Spirits and Such as his personal assistant, doing all the mundane jobs he cannot be bothered to, you’ve spent all day at home today. Because, whilst you are his trusty assistant, you’re also his partner, and last night, after a particularly stressful day of work, as soon as you had both gotten home he’d made good on a promise to ‘make it up to you’. By the morning, you were sore all over, aching and your pristine skin littered with lovebites and marks and hickies, signs of a night well-spent. But you were far too tired to make it to your shift, and Reigen begrudgingly let you stay home for the day to recover from his passionate and rough treatment the night before.

So, as you flop down onto your shared bed, awaiting Reigen’s arrival home after having spent the day doing chores, you sigh, still a little sore and your hickies still blooming ever-darker, like a mark of who you belong to. You roll onto your front, scrolling through your phone, comfortable as ever, namely because you were dressed in nothing but one of Reigen’s dress-shirts, the large amount of fabric drowning you, only stopping at the crest of your behind and the tops of your thighs.

When the rattle of keys and the front door opening signals Reigen’s return home from the office, you can’t help but smile. And by the time Reigen reaches the bedroom with a tired sigh, grumbling about something-or-other, he’s suddenly silenced as his eyes almost bulge out at the sight of you. He marvels at you in silence for a moment, laid on your front, hickies still adorning your exposed thighs as you kick your legs, barely covered by the shirt you’re wearing. His shirt. He almost salivates at the sight of you wearing his shirt and nothing else, and stutters out in awe, blushing profusely.

“{{user}}, a-are you– I mean– you… are you wearing my shirt?... you look good in it… really good~...