#[I RETURN and come with soft thoughts] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chuluoyi · 6 months ago

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𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)

note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))

“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”

Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.

Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.

A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.

And in that moment, Zayne thought, nothing could've possibly ever shatter his world ever again.

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dollfacefantasy · 7 months ago

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IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

part 2

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay. Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched. He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in.

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking.

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded.

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker.

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest).

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog.

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment.

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too.

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie.

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered.

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips.

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you.

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward.

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though.

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself.

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson smut #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc smut #batboys x reader #ch: jason todd 💌#ch: dick grayson 💌

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buckyseternaldoll · 1 month ago

Text

He Still Smelled Like Home

Pairing: exhusband!Avengers!Bucky x civilian!afab!reader

Summary: A missed anniversary. A quiet goodbye. And then a metal arm shielding you from death. You were always his. Even when you weren’t.

Warning: 18+ (mdni!), heavy angst, emotional abandonment references, hinted depression, marriage separation, unresolved tension, emotional breakdown, longing, heartbreak, near-death-experience (implied), emotionally intense smut, marking/claiming kink, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, timeline is loosely based on somewhere in between TFATWS and Thunderbolts*

Word count: 4,110 *finalized. No one's reading 29k words

You stared at the emptiness of your home.

The house that was supposed to echo with laughter, with midnight kisses in the hallway, with the low, raspy way Bucky used to call you baby when he walked in after a long day.

Instead, it echoed with silence.

Furniture untouched. Coffee gone cold on the counter. Your shared blanket on the couch still crumpled the way you left it, not him. It had been days. Maybe weeks. Time had begun to blur together in his absence.

This house — your home — used to carry his presence like a scent. Leather and spice, coffee and cedarwood. His cologne used to linger in the doorways. His boots used to thud softly on hardwood, his hums used to carry from the shower. But lately, the only things left were your own tired footsteps and the buzz of the refrigerator.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, stared at the closet that still held his clothes. Neatly arranged, untouched. They used to smell like him, like nights curled into his chest, like mornings when he wouldn’t let you leave without kissing your shoulder first.

Now they just smelled like dust.

Bucky had been swallowed whole by his work.

Some days, he was a reluctant public figure — shaking hands, attending briefings, forced into suits and speeches about reform and redemption. Most days, he was a weapon again. Deployed into fights with little notice, returning with bloodied knuckles and bruises beneath his eyes. When you touched him, he’d flinch just slightly — not from fear, but like he couldn’t believe it was real.

You understood. God, you tried.

You knew who he was. You loved who he was.

You promised yourself — again and again — that you could handle it.

The nights alone. The uncertainty. The ache of missing him.

Because you loved him too deeply to walk away.

Because you thought being Mrs. Barnes meant being strong enough for both of you.

But love had started to feel like an echo — something you screamed into the void and never got back.

What you felt now was loneliness.

A hollow ache, wide as winter, clawing at your insides every time another message came from Val instead of him. Another mission. Another country. Another time zone you didn’t belong to.

He’d always kiss you goodbye. Sometimes on the forehead. Sometimes just your hand. And sometimes… not at all. Just a silent glance before the door shut behind him, as if his guilt outweighed his ability to say goodbye.

And when he did come back, it was like he left part of himself behind.

His blue eyes — once bright, full of mischief and love and that impossible, boyish affection only you got to see — now looked dimmer. They didn’t rest on you with the same softness. They scanned you, checked you, but didn’t linger. As if he didn’t trust himself to look too long, in case it broke him.

When he held you at night, he trembled in his sleep.

When you kissed him in the morning, he didn’t kiss back right away.

He whispered I love you like it was a habit, not a promise.

So you reached for the wedding photo album. The one you kept high on the shelf, tucked behind cookbooks and board games you never played anymore.

You slid down to the floor with it. Cross-legged, as if you were still that giddy woman in love, waiting for him to walk in and steal a kiss.

The photos were intimate. Small wedding, barely two dozen people. Just the closest ones — Sam, Joaquin, and your parents’ photo in your bouquet. The two of you had danced barefoot in the grass beneath string lights, his vest long discarded, your shoes kicked off somewhere near the firepit.

In the pictures, you looked radiant.

So did he.

That little smile — crooked, cocky, only for you. His nose slightly sunburned, his metal hand resting over yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You chuckled, but it came out hollow. A dry sound that hurt more than it comforted.

Your fingers traced the edges of one photo — the one where he kissed your temple, and you closed your eyes with a smile so wide your cheeks dimpled.

And suddenly, you remembered how you met.

───

Flashback:

The entire building blacked out, trapping you in a dim elevator lit only by the red emergency light. This happened often enough that you knew the bell button was useless; you’d have to wait for maintenance.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and you’d just finished a late-night grocery run. You were stuck with a stranger — a man tall and broad, standing opposite you. His faded henley clung to his muscles even in the eerie red glow. His hair was short and neat, his stubble freshly trimmed. His sharp gaze pierced you but felt strangely warm.

“Want some grapes?” you offered, holding out a bag. He looked confused.

“I swear they taste like cotton candy,” you added, nudging the bag closer. Slowly, his guarded stare softened and he reached out with his gloved metal fingers.

“Oh,” he rumbled, voice low and rough. “They do taste like cotton candy.”

His guard dropped completely then. You talked about everything — your dog Percy who had just crossed the rainbow bridge, your chaotic job, your ex who’d burned through your savings on booze. You didn’t hold back; you were a talker, a sharer. And he listened, amused and content. For once, he wasn’t a hero or a soldier. Just Bucky.

Two hours later, when the elevator finally hummed to life, you walked toward your doors together. Nervous, you asked, “What should I call you?”

“Bucky,” he sneered softly. “I’m Bucky.”

───

You practically moved into his life. Your clothes filled his wardrobe. Your toothbrush hung beside his. You wore his oversized shirts, loved the way they draped over your curves. You cooked for him, greeted him after missions. You met Sam Wilson, who teased Bucky for smiling so much on FaceTime with you. Sam thanked you for lighting Bucky up again.

Your sex life with Bucky was electric — both with high drives, perfectly matched. When he asked you to marry him, you screamed “Yes” with joy.

───

You glanced at your phone. 3:50 a.m.

Ten minutes to four.

The dinner you made lay cold on the table. Roasted turkey with plum glaze. Mashed potatoes. His favorite black cherry pie.

You’d even worn the silk robe he once said drove him insane — the burgundy one that hugged your curves like a second skin. You had curled your hair, lit the candles, set the table for two.

It was your seventh wedding anniversary.

He had promised. Swore on your vows, on his mother’s grave. “No missions, no excuses, I’ll be home.”

But he wasn’t.

Not at 4 a.m.

Not at 7.

Not at noon.

It wasn’t until eighteen hours later that the front door finally creaked open. You were curled on the couch, still in the same robe, your makeup smudged and mascara dried into the pillow. The candles had melted down to nubs. The food had crusted over with cold.

You heard the boots first — heavy, limping, dragging.

And then you saw him.

James Buchanan Barnes, your husband. Bloodied. Bruised. One eye already purpling, a cut on his lip, blood trickling down from his temple. His vibranium arm was scorched in places. He looked like he’d been through hell and back and then some.

But he still smiled — weakly, brokenly, with his entire heart bleeding behind it.

“Baby…” he rasped, voice like gravel. “Happy anniversary.”

You blinked. Slowly. Like the words couldn’t land. You sat upright and moved toward him on instinct — your heart betraying your numbness. He was hurt. And that muscle memory in your bones still knew how to care for him.

You didn’t speak as you led him to the kitchen. Just fetched the medical kit. The antiseptic. The gauze.

He sat on the stool, watching you with tired eyes, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for something worse than shrapnel.

You cleaned his wounds in silence.

Your hands moved gently, methodically. But your eyes stayed distant. Detached. As if you were treating a stranger. As if you’d already started grieving the version of him that used to come home smiling, on time, with flowers clutched awkwardly in his hand.

When your fingers brushed his jaw to dab ointment onto the cut beneath his cheekbone, he leaned into your touch — starved for it. Your hand hesitated, barely a second, before you pulled it away.

“Love…” he whispered.

But you shook your head. Stepped back. Your robe had come undone slightly, but you didn’t bother fixing it. You just looked at him — really looked — and realized you were tired. So deeply tired.

He tried. God, he tried.

He came back the next day with a cake you didn’t touch. Flowers that wilted in the kitchen sink. A note scribbled on hotel stationery that said I’m sorry a dozen times.

But you were already drifting. Already far from him. Not out of hatred — no, it was worse than that. It was hollowness. That gray space where love used to live, now dusted in disappointment and absence.

That night, he crawled into bed beside you.

He didn’t take your nightgown off. Didn’t try to seduce or ignite anything. He just pulled you close from behind — spooned you like he used to when nightmares came — and pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, your nape, your arm.

They weren’t seductive. They were desperate.

Whispers without words. Promises buried in breath.

His arms locked around you like he was trying to fuse you back to him — as if, if he held you hard enough, long enough, you might forget all the times he didn’t come back at all.

His lips paused at the inside of your elbow. Pressed one final kiss there.

Then, without a sound, he exhaled — and let sleep take him.

You stayed awake.

Wrapped in his arms.

Drowning in silence.

───

Morning came with the scent of mushroom soup and toasted garlic baguette. You stirred awake to the distant clatter of dishes, the quiet hum of the stove, and the absence of his warmth beside you.

You’d fallen asleep curled in his arms — your face tucked beneath his jaw, legs tangled under the sheets. But now, the space was cold.

You found him in the kitchen, already dressed in soft joggers and a black t-shirt, hair damp. He was plating the soup with clinical precision, like it gave him something to focus on. Something other than the ache written plainly in his eyes when he saw you.

“Morning, doll,” he said softly, like the word itself might crack under the weight between you.

You nodded. Sat down at the small table.

And then the silence began.

You both moved through breakfast like strangers — chewing in syncopated rhythm, passing the butter with hesitant fingers, eyes never quite meeting. He stirred his soup without tasting it. You sipped your coffee like it was the only thing anchoring you.

The air was thick with unsaid things. Words sat like iron behind your ribs — but neither of you moved to break the dam.

Until the very end.

You were wiping your mouth, standing to rinse your plate, when Bucky finally found his voice.

“Sweetheart…” His voice cracked on the pet name. He paused — swallowing hard, like he needed to force the rest out. “I think… we need some time. Some space. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

You froze with the plate in your hand.

He reached across the table for your fingers — hesitant, trembling — but you pulled away before he could touch you.

A hollow laugh escaped you, bitter and breathless.

“If you say so, Bucky,” you said, voice flat and cold. “Maybe I wasn’t really made for you.”

He flinched like you’d slapped him. You saw it in the way his jaw clenched, in the pain flickering behind those steel-blue eyes — the kind that didn’t bleed, just quietly bruised.

But he didn’t stop you.

Didn’t beg.

Didn’t follow.

You packed your things with mechanical efficiency — toothbrush, spare clothes, the book you left on his nightstand. You left his hoodie folded on the bed and the ring in the drawer, tucked between receipts and mission notes. You took most of your pieces with you, but something in you stayed behind — still curled in that bed, still holding onto the man you loved.

And when you shut the door behind you, he stayed on the other side.

Silent.

Shattered.

Still too much Bucky to stop you, and not enough to ask you to stay.

───

Eight months later —

No calls.

No texts.

Not even a whisper through mutual friends. Not even from Sam.

You tried to move on.

You went out with friends. Swiped left and right. Let a stranger kiss you once at a bar — his lips were too wet and his hands too eager. You let another walk you home and never answered when he called again.

But none of them touched you like he did.

None of them held you like you were fragile and fire at once.

No one smelled like warm amber, cedar, and that faint, addictive trace of danger.

Your bed was too big. Too cold.

You cried yourself to sleep more nights than you could count, face buried in a pillow that still carried a ghost of his scent. Even the apartment felt wrong — full of your things but missing your home.

So you walked.

Miles and miles through the city, trying to chase your own shadow.

That morning was no different. Clouds hung low. Wind sharp.

You had your hands in your coat pockets, earbuds in, but no music playing. You just needed to be anywhere but inside your head.

Until—

The chaos hit.

Sirens.

Screams.

The city cracked open with noise — the grinding roar of steel collapsing, the screech of tires, the whoosh of fire somewhere not far from you. But it all sounded distant. Muffled. Like someone had dunked your head under water.

Your legs froze.

People screamed around you, bolting in every direction. Something exploded behind you. And before you could even process the danger—

You looked up.

A van — crushed and burning — was flipping in your direction.

Your body didn’t move. Couldn’t.

You just stood there.

You closed your eyes.

And for a moment, you welcomed it.

The pain. The impact. The silence that would follow.

Maybe this was how it ended. Maybe it would finally stop hurting.

But instead—

The world cracked open with a clang so loud it split the sky.

Metal slammed against metal, the sound so sharp it vibrated down your spine.

You opened your eyes.

And there he was.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Your ex-husband.

Your ghost.

Your gravity.

Your everything that once was and never stopped being.

He stood between you and the van, his vibranium arm braced against the smoking wreckage, stopping it mid-roll. His boots skidded across the concrete, muscles taut beneath his tactical gear. The plates of his arm groaned under the weight, but he held steady — held for you.

His chest heaved. Jaw clenched. His hair was a mess, stubble thick along his jaw, blood streaked on his temple, and still — still — the second your eyes met, you forgot how to breathe.

His scent hit you next.

Smoke. Leather. Salt.

And underneath it, that impossible, familiar sweetness — like vanilla left too close to a bonfire.

Then he was on you.

Hands gripping your arms, scanning every inch of your face, your body, like he didn’t trust you were real. Like you’d vanish if he blinked. His touch wasn’t gentle. It was urgent — trembling, firm, searching.

His voice came out strangled. “Don’t you fucking dare die before me.”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you.

His arms wrapped around you like a vice, pulling you against him — like he could absorb you into his skin. Like the world had come undone and only your heartbeat could put it back together.

You clung to him. You didn’t think, didn’t speak — just held.

His vibranium fingers slid into your hair. His human hand pressed to your lower back, clutching like he could keep you from fading. His forehead touched yours, both of you panting, trembling, suspended between collapse and salvation.

He whispered your name like it was a prayer.

Then — just like that — he pulled back. Gave you a look.

“Wait here,” he rasped.

His tone was low but commanding, that voice you used to hear in bed when he’d make you come with nothing but words. And like always, even now, even after everything, your body obeyed before your brain caught up.

You nodded. “‘Kay.”

He turned and ran back into the fray.

You barely noticed the minutes passing — only that he kept glancing over his shoulder. Like he couldn’t risk not checking. Like he needed to see you to breathe.

The fight ended quickly.

Some coordinated terrorist hit gone wrong. Bucky and the team had moved like a soldier possessed, taking down the last of them with clinical precision. When Valentina clapped him on the back, rattling off some smug line about his team's New Avengers status, he barely registered it.

His eyes were already on you.

Locked.

He broke from the team without a word.

Crossed the rubble. Climbed over twisted steel and ash.

Until his hand reached for yours.

And you didn’t hesitate.

Fingers threaded. Palms locked.

He led you — fast but careful — through the remnants of the battleground. He didn’t speak, didn’t explain. Just kept walking until he found what he needed: a shattered doorway tucked beneath a battered brick building. The inside was dusty, quiet. Safe.

He pressed you inside. His chest nearly heaving.

The second the door creaked shut behind you—

The dam burst.

He lunged.

His mouth crashed onto yours like a breaking wave.

All teeth and tongue and need.

Your back hit the wall. His hands pinned you there, lips devouring like he was starving. Like every second of those eight months had built to this very moment.

Your hands tore at his jacket. Fisted into his shirt. Your mouth opened for him — let him take what he needed, because it was yours too. The ache, the hunger, the ache, the ache—

He groaned into your kiss. The sound wrecked you.

His vibranium hand slid to your throat — not choking, just holding — like he needed to feel your pulse. Needed to prove you were alive. His other hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as his mouth moved to your jaw, then your neck.

“You’re real,” he whispered. “You’re fucking real.”

Your tears answered before your voice could.

He leaned his forehead into yours again. Chest heaving. Breaths shallow. Every inch of him radiating tension, heartbreak, and sheer unfiltered love.

Then came the words. Quiet. Ragged.

“Come home.”

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

You just held tighter.

And followed.

───

The apartment door slammed shut behind you both, and the moment it did, something primal broke loose.

Bucky didn’t speak — he lunged. Hands everywhere, mouths crashing, teeth clashing like it hurt to be apart this long. His fingers tugged at your shirt so hard it ripped at the seams. You yanked his jacket down his arms, let it crumple to the floor, then pushed his dark shirt up and over his head — revealing the body that haunted your dreams for months.

“God, baby,” he breathed against your mouth, voice thick and broken. “Eight months. I was going insane.”

“Then show me,” you growled. “Fucking prove it.”

And he did.

───

He pressed you up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapping around his waist like instinct. The first thrust was sharp and deep — a punch of heat that knocked the air from your lungs. He didn’t start slow. There was no space for slow. Not now.

You gasped as he slammed into you, his metal hand gripping under your thigh, fingers digging hard enough to bruise. Your back arched against the plaster as he took you hard and fast, his mouth on your neck, biting down like he needed to mark you again. He whispered, “Mine,” over and over, like a vow.

You came quickly, clenching around him as he growled into your skin — hips stuttering, muscles tight as he spilled deep inside you, still panting your name.

But neither of you moved.

He stayed buried in you, arms wrapped tight, forehead pressed to yours.

“I missed you,” you gasped, breath trembling. “So fucking much, Bucky.”

His hand caressed your face. “I never stopped being yours.”

───

Moments later, he was dragging you to the bedroom.

He flipped you onto your stomach, kissing down your spine, tongue tracing the dip of your back. His voice was low, dangerous. “Gonna remind you how you sound when you scream for me.”

You felt the cool slide of his metal hand between your thighs, spreading you open, and then he was inside you again — slower this time, but deeper. He drove into you with devastating control, groaning every time you clenched around him.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed. “No one else gets you like this. No one else can.”

You could only moan his name, clutching the sheets as he wrecked you from behind. Each thrust pushed you forward, breath caught on every hard snap of his hips.

Your second orgasm hit like a freight train — you shattered beneath him with a broken sob, and he followed, grunting your name as he came again, biting your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

───

You barely had time to recover before he turned you onto your back and kissed you breathless.

“Still not done,” he murmured, voice gone hoarse. “I haven’t had you in eight goddamn months, sweetheart. I’m taking my time now.”

He used his shirt to tie your wrists to the headboard, slow and deliberate. His vibranium hand gripped your thigh and spread you wide, while the flesh one traced the curve of your belly and up to your chest. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “All mine.”

This time he entered you with a slow, torturous roll of his hips. He built you up until you were sobbing for him, body arching under his rhythm. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, whispering things he never got to say:

“I dreamt of you every night…”

“Couldn’t even sleep on my side of the bed…”

He kissed away your tears as he brought you over the edge, holding you through the tremble. He didn’t stop until he was coming again, voice raw and quiet. “No one touches you like I do. No one ever will.”

───

You made it to the bathroom — barely — stripping along the way. Bucky turned on the water, but before you could even step in, he spun you around and kissed you again.

This time it wasn’t fury. It was need.

You were both soaked by the spray when he lifted your leg, pressing your back to the cold tile, and slid into you once more. Slow, deliberate, eyes locked on yours. You held his face, ran your fingers through his soaked hair, watched his expression as he moved inside you like he never wanted to leave your body again.

It was messy and quiet. Wet skin slapping. Fingers clutching. Moans swallowed into kisses.

When he came this time, it wasn’t explosive — it was devastatingly intimate. He buried his face in your neck and whimpered your name, his whole body shaking.

You both stood under the water for minutes, breathing each other in.

───

He finally scooped you into his arms and gently lowered you into the already-drawn bathtub — the lavender oil you’d left behind still sitting by the edge.

You curled into his lap, the warm water surrounding you both like a cocoon. His arms wrapped around you from behind, lips brushing your shoulder. He massaged your thighs under the water, fingers tracing every mark he’d left.

“You okay, doll?” he whispered softly. “I didn’t mean to be that rough…”

“I needed it,” you murmured, turning your head to kiss his jaw. “Needed you.”

You leaned back into his chest, both of you quiet for a while, the sound of the water lapping gently around you.

“You're not leaving again,” he finally said. “Whatever it takes. You’re it for me.”

You nodded slowly, hand finding his under the surface.

“I know,” you whispered. “We’ll figure it out. Together this time.”

And he kissed your temple, the kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything.

The kind that said: Home. Ours. Always.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #fluff if you squinted properly #possessive bucky #reunion fic #reader insert smut #making up sex #desperate sex #emotional separation #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #જ⁀➴ by elle

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uramakimochi · 3 months ago

Text

Batboys scenario:

YOU LOOSE CONTROL OF YOUR POWERS WHILE SLEEPING.

WARNINGS: Just fluff, no use of Y/N. Inspired by this thought of mine. R can fly but it's not explicitly said whether they're a Super/Kent or an alien. This should be gender neutral enough for everyone^^

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

BRUCE

Bruce entered the room with a yawn that he tried to cover with his hand, while slowly rotating his neck and chest to make his bones crack loudly.

The only thing he wanted to do was get into bed with you, hold you close and sleep forever. But he knew that all the love and devotion he felt for you would never be enough to free him from his duties as a vigilante, so the only thing he could do was enjoy to the fullest those moments that life allowed him to spend with you. One of which was a good rest together.

Bruce loved sleeping with you. There was no better feeling for him than coming home late after a patrol and hiding under the covers, wrapping his mighty arms around you and pulling you against his sturdy body, falling asleep lulled by your body heat.

But before he could already imagine how he would spend a beautiful night next to you, he had to stop on the threshold of the door when his eyes fell on the double bed. Or rather, who was above of it.

Because yes, you were there, exactly where he expected to find you, but you were not on the bed. You were literally floating above it, like a bee on a flower.

Bruce smiled amusedly, because honestly that was nothing new. That was something that often happened when you were asleep: entering the world of dreams was as if your powers merged with them and not being able to control them of your own will, sometimes you happened to rise into the air in the middle of the night. Sometimes you slipped away from Bruce's arms, but other times you even took him up with you.

But Bruce didn't care, he was used to it. And he would never blame you because that was just who you were. And he would always love you, for every virtue and every flaw.

So he approached you silently until he was at your side. Meanwhile, you continued to float above his head as if nothing had happened, clutching the pillow under one arm and your eyelids fluttering every now and then, surely because of the dream you were living in your mind.

"Sweetheart" he murmured softly, reaching up to gently pull the blanket that covered your body and that was floating with you. "Wake up my love"

After a few seconds you squinted and then finally opened your eyes in the darkness.

"Mhh" you moaned and your eyes landed on your husband's face. "Bruce... Hi, what is it?"

Bruce smiled comfortingly, moving his hand to your arm.

"Forgive me, i didn't mean to disturb you" he replied, running his warm palm back and forth along your arm. "You're floating again"

It was at that moment that despite your tiredness you realized how low his face was compared to yours and you pressed your lips together. "Oh..."

Your body slowly returned down to rest on the soft mattress and you adjusted your position to cover yourself, finally looking at your husband from below, as it was supposed to be.

"Thank you" you gave him an embarrassed smile. "Sorry"

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then walked around the bed to his side, sitting on the edge to take off his shoes and lie down under the covers.

"You have nothing to apologize for, i always tell you that" he reassured you as he lay down and you wasted no time in snuggling into his side. "You know i don't really care if you sleep mid air. I'd just prefer to fall sleep with you in my arms sometimes"

"I know, but i hate when it happens" you replied with a small pout.

You felt his strong arm wrap around your shoulders to hold you close and you closed your eyes, resting your head on his bicep, ready to go back to sleep. "Because i like falling asleep in your arms too"

Bruce smiled again, tilting his head to kiss your forehead one more time and watched you fall asleep again within minutes, lulled by his warmth and his sweet caresses that you had missed that night.

"I know my love"

DICK

Dick was the most affectionate of the boys and this meant that at every opportunity he would stick to you like a mussel and he wasn't afraid to show it. Whether it was for a simple nap together, when you were cooking or cleaning the house, while he was watching tv with you, in the shower, when you went out... You name it. He was always glued to you. And during the night he was no exception.

Even when the temperatures were the highest he would close his arms around your body and hold you to his chest as if you were a stuffed animal that comforted him from his nightmares. And you, somehow, always managed to fall asleep, no matter how glued he was to you.

But Dick was like that and there were just a few times that you told him to let go because that was just the way he showed his affection and you appreciated him for it.

And the fact that your boyfriend was clingy meant that whatever happened to you... Well, he was there to suffer it too.

Specifically, i'm talking about when your superpowers got out of control and while that almost never happened when you were awake, the same couldn't be said for when you were asleep. Because when you were dreaming it was like your body and mind were letting go and often it happened that without realizing it you found yourself floating in the middle of the night.

Now, Dick was used to your powers and all, but the first time he witnessed your 'sleepwalking flight' he felt a little taken aback. But he remembers it like it was yesterday.

Imagine the scene.

You and Dick were fast asleep (he was even snoring and almost drooling on your head) and of course his strong arms were around your body from behind you, holding you to his chest in a firm warm and affectionate hug even in your sleep.

At a certain point however, he had to open his eyes, awakened by that horrible feeling of a dry throat that screamed at him to get a fresh glass of water to quench his thirst. So Dick rubbed a hand over his eyes to wake up and reluctantly let go of your body to turn on the other side and get out of bed. But when he stretched his legs towards the floor...

Dick's eyes widened and he felt like his breath was taken away for a fraction of a second when he realized he wasn't lying on his soft bed but floating right above it, blanket included.

"Oh fuc- Woahh!"

And before he could react, he fell down with a cry. Luckily his fall was softened by the bed itself, but that didn't stop him from rolling onto the floor with a heavy thud. That and his scream were enough to wake you up too and after you woke up with a start, abruptly interrupting your dream, you fell too but your trajectory allowed you to land on the matress unlike your boyfriend.

Dick still sitting on the floor, groaned in pain and then he sharply turned to you.

"Baby!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What was that??"

The lamp on your nightstand turned on and then he heard you get off the bed and walk quickly to his side and then he saw you crouch down in front of him.

"Oh my god Dickie i'm so sorry!" you looked at him worriedly, placing one hand on his cheek and the other on his head, making him tilt it to see if there were any bruises. "Are you hurt??"

Dick waved a hand with a small, pained smile. "Nah, i'm fine. I've been through worse. Just... What just happened?"

You let out a small sigh and let yourself fall backwards, sitting on the floor. "My powers. It happens to me sometimes when i'm sleeping, especially when i'm having particularly weird dreams or nightmares. My parents told me i've been doing it since i was little"

He nodded in understanding. "Oh. I see"

You looked down, feeling sorry and embarrassed by what had happened.

"Forgive me, i forgot to tell you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, honey. Are you sure you're really okay?"

Dick nodded again, forgetting the pain to give you his classic dazzling smile. "It's okay, sweetheart, really. These are things i have to get used to if i want to be with someone with superpowers"

And you giggled fondly, leaning forward to give him a couple of affectionate kisses on the temple.

"I guess that's the price you have to pay for clinging to me all the time, huh?" you murmured against his skin and he placed his hands on your waist to keep you close to him.

"I guess it is"

JASON

Jason was big and bulky but he was a light sleeper and since he was also very protective of you, he was always alert in case something happened during the night.

In fact, the slow movement of his arm that was rising against his will was enough to disturb him from his sleep. Jason opened his eyes but did not worry about being possessed by some strange demon. He sighed when he saw what was happening next to him. Or rather, above him.

"Babyyy" he moaned with a heavy yawn, but he received no response from you who were still sound asleep.

Immediately the hand of his arm that was rising and sliding from its position around your back, reached out to grab your wrist before you could rise too high for him to reach while still lying down. When you felt his warm palm touch you, you woke up too and when you opened your eyes you saw Jason dragging you down towards him, making you return to his side in the same place where you had fallen asleep a few hours ago.

"Where did you think you were going mh?" your boyfriend asked, his voice still thick with sleep, wrapping his muscular arm around your back (again) and pulling you close.

"Sorry" you muttered slightly embarrassed in the darkness of the room, snuggling against his shoulder.

It wasn't that you were new to floating during the night, but it wasn't something you were always proud of in his presence.

"'S okay" he replied, tilting his head to nuzzle yours and plant a kiss on it, while he closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. "But if you want to go for a fly, at least let's do it together"

And you smiled, closing your eyes as well while your hand automatically went to rest on his chest.

"Sure"

TIM

Tim wasn't known for being a big sleeper. And you hated more than anything to be the one ruining the few hours of sleep he could afford, disturbing him with your powers when you started floating in the middle of the night without your control.

But Tim was a sweet soul and he always reassured you by telling you that it was not a bother for him if he slept in the air rather than on the bed. He would sleep anywhere, even on the floor and even for just five minutes, just to be with you.

"Are you really sure it's not a problem for you?" you asked again, looking at your boyfriend with uncertain eyes.

Tim lifted his head from your chest, returning your gaze with a sleepy one, already half asleep mostly thanks to the effect of your hand caressing his hair, while the other was resting on his back.

His arms dangled in the air falling on both sides of your body, while his legs remained comfortably resting on yours. Luckily Tim, even though he was well trained, didn't have a body as large as Jason or Bruce, otherwise he would have fallen to the ground.

"Babe" he replied and his exasperated look gave way to a slight smile. "For the umpteenth time, yes. It's not a problem"

"But what if you move and fall to the floor? Or what if I move and make you fall to the floor?"

"We're not that high up" Tim sighed, glancing at the bed below you and then looking back at you. "You're talking to Red Robin, if i fall i can handle it"

"But-"

Tim shushed you by leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips and of course you returned it, letting yourself go and forgetting your worries for a few seconds, while your hand in his hair slid down to his cheek.

"No more 'buts'. I promise you nothing will happen" he continued when he pulled away. "And you know i don't sleep much anyway, so if i were to fall i'd notice"

"Hmm" you muttered still uncertain. "Okay... If you're sure"

Tim gave you a smile and settled more comfortably, resting his head back on your chest and closing his eyes. One of your hands caressed his back with your fingertips and you rested your chin on his hair.

"But please, wake me up if something happens" you added and you felt him nod slowly against you.

"Mh, will do. 'Night babe"

"Goodnight Timmy"

DAMIAN

You and Damian were sleeping peacefully in your bed, him in front of you with an arm on your shoulders pulling you against his body and your arms tightly wrapped around his slim waist, while one of your legs was trapped between his.

Damian had fallen asleep lulled by your breaths against his collarbone, but like Jason he was always alert during sleep, no matter what time it was. In fact, when he suddenly felt your bodies start to rise in the air he slowly opened his eyes but he didn't panic or get scared, knowing perfectly well what was happening. And above all who was making it happen.

Damian laid his eyes on you with a loving gaze, admiring you despite the darkness. He found it funny that despite your intertwined bodies were literally floating a couple of meters away from the bed, you continued to sleep deeply as if nothing had happened. He even saw your lips curve upwards and he also smiled tenderly in turn, wondering who knows what you were dreaming of to smile like that.

Damian then noticed that you and him were getting closer and closer to the ceiling as you floated upwards. But before your head or his could hit it, he raised an arm to rest his hand against the ceiling, stopping the movement in mid-air. The other hand that was on your shoulders instead, slid up until it reached your head, covering it with his palm in a protective way.

Oh if you had been awake to see it your heart would have fluttered with joy and Damian knew that too. He cared for you in every way, both with the little things and the more heroic ones, as he had learned in his life as Robin.

Due to the impact of his palm against the ceiling it was as if your body bounced like a balloon and went back down, continuing to drag Damian with you until you finally stopped in mid-air. He reached out to your face to stroke your forehead with his thumb.

"Beloved" he murmured.

Just hearing him call your name once, accompanied by the lovely feeling of his finger rubbing against your skin, woke you up. You squeezed your eyes and then opened them, looking at your boyfriend with the typical expression of a child just disturbed from his nap.

"Mmh, what is it Dami?"

Damian gave you a smile while continuing to caress you, while you felt your eyelids still drooping from tiredness.

"You're doing it again" he simply said.

There was silence for a few seconds. And then without saying anything both of your bodies began to descend, until you gently rested on the bed again. Damian felt you wiggle in his arms while you tried to get comfortable against him and even closer if possible, looking for his body heat.

"Sorry" you muttered, pressing your face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "I promise i won't do it again... 'Swear..."

And a few seconds later your breathing against his skin became heavier. You had fallen asleep again, without any difficulty.

Damian's emerald eyes looked at you amused while his hand found its favorite place on the back of your head, his fingers caressing you affectionately. Because that wasn't the first time you told him you wouldn't do it again and he knew it wouldn't be the last either.

"I count on it beloved"

DUKE (i added him too because i felt bad leaving him out😔)

The alarm clock on his nightstand went off and he reached out to turn it off. When Duke opened his eyes and turned to you with a sleepy smile, he thought he would find your angelic still sleeping face to greet him. But his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he noticed that you were not on your side of the bed.

"Uh... Weird" he thought.

Because he was usually the first one of you to wake up and it always took him a good few minutes to get you out of bed. Could that be the first time you had gotten up before him and had already made breakfast? Was it perhaps a special day?

Duke smiled amusedly, but then he noticed another detail. Your pillow was in its right place, but the large blanket you shared was gone.

"That's why i was cold last night..." the man muttered, after realizing that he had spent the rest of the night without a blanket. But why?

A familiar yawn from above his head caught his attention and Duke looked up. And when he saw your body floating above the bed, his heart skipped a beat.

You stirred, awakened by your boyfriend's alarm clock and the famous missing large blanket slipped from your body, falling onto the bed beneath you. You then turned to look down at him with a sweet, innocent smile.

"Good morning"

Duke let out a small, scared cry and jumped up from the bed. "L-Love! What are you doing up there!?"

You looked at him in confusion and lowered your head, finally noticing the distance from your side of the bed. "Oh... Oh crap!"

With his heart still pounding, Duke watched you calmly slide down until you were back on the ground. You then gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Um, surprise?"

Duke walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Are you okay??" he asked still scared, looking you up and down. "I thought you were... Possessed or something!"

You chuckled, waving a hand. "What are you talking about, Duke? It was just my powers"

He seemed to relax. He knew about your powers, but he never expected to see something like that.

"Oh..." then he sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. It was unexpected, you almost gave me a heart attack"

You gave him a sorry smile, taking his hand to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, i didn't mean to scare you. I completely forgot to tell you that sometimes while i sleep i lose control of my powers and start flying. It's been happening to me since i was little. Imagine what would happen if i slept in the open air"

He also finally laughed and he hugged you and you felt his body relax under your palms.

"How about i make breakfast to make up for it, mh?" you then asked and he nodded with a big smile.

"I'd really like that"

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siennasfantasies · 3 months ago

Text

Bakugou Katsuki is completely wrapped around his girlfriend’s finger.

Sure, he tries to act all cool and indifferent in front of his friends, pulling off that tough, angry, and mean guy routine. But deep down, this man would melt in a second for his girlfriend. He’d fall to his knees just to see her smile.

Today, Bakugou Katsuki is out with his friend Kirishima, shopping for Kirishima’s girlfriend’s birthday party. Why did Katsuki agree to come? Because you were away traveling, and he was utterly bored and lonely without you by his side.

"Hey, have we met before?"

The question didn’t even register in his mind. In fact, Katsuki didn’t hear it at all. His mind assumed the question was meant for someone else nearby. He was genuinely surprised when, out of nowhere, a woman stepped in front of him with a soft, shy smile.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to say hi while I had the chance."

Katsuki quickly looked to the side, hoping to spot his friend, but to his dismay, he realized he was completely alone in this awkward moment.

"Uh, right," he muttered, cringing inwardly. What the hell? Why am I even talking to her right now?

The woman giggled, her fingers reaching out to place a hand on his chest while she leaned in a little too close, invading his personal space.

Instinctively, Katsuki stepped back, his heart immediately sinking. Oh hell nah.

"Okay, back up." He shot her a sharp glance and turned to walk away. But just as he did, he heard a voice from behind him.

"Oh, come on. She ain’t that pretty for you to turn me, this, down, is she?"

“She is that pretty, you—” Katsuki grumbled under his breath, shaking his head. He didn’t dare say it out loud—after all, his mom could be lurking nearby—but he couldn’t help but mutter the insult as he walked away, his heart set on getting back to the one person who mattered.

Three days later, you returned home. The second Katsuki saw you walking toward him at the airport, his whole demeanor softened. The tightness in his shoulders melted away, and a smile so wide spread across his face that it made his heart flutter. Without a second thought, he opened his arms wide, waiting for you to run into them.

"Hi, mama," he whispered, his voice thick with longing.

You rushed into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms clinging to his shoulders as if you never wanted to let go. You giggled when you felt Katsuki bury his face in your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"You okay, Kats?" You pulled back slightly to look at his face, your heart fluttering at the lovesick gaze in his eyes. He nodded silently, his usual grumpy nature nowhere to be found. Instead, he gently lowered you back to the ground, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, as if to reassure you that everything was right with the world again.

Kirishima stood a few feet away, laughing quietly at the sight of his best friend. The contrast between the Katsuki who’d been grumpy and distant while you were gone and the Katsuki who now held you in his arms—radiating nothing but joy—was impossible to miss. He smiled softly, realizing that there was no one else who could make Katsuki shine like that.

Everyone knew that Bakugou Katsuki was absolutely smitten—utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

#𝜗𝜚 rambles #my hero academia #mha #bakugou #katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #awwwww

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dirtylilspawn · 2 months ago

Text

ᴍᴀɴʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇᴅ

Summary: You prank the lads boys by aggressively manhandling them.

Fandom: Love & Deepspace

Parings: [Zayne x Fem!Reader, Xavier x Fem!Reader, Caleb x Fem!Reader, Sylus x Fem!Reader, Rafayel x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Works been killin my butt. But anyways I saw many prank tiktok videos about women aggressively handling their own partner. Whether it be kissing them, love bites, or putting them on top of the kitchen counter. Figured it make a funny small prompt of how it would go lol.

Warnings: Fluff & humor, suggestive stuff, cursing

════════════════════════════

ZAYNE

You've been feeling pretty clingy today.

You didn't know what it was that made you feel this way. Maybe just seeing Zayne, waking up in his bed, staying over at his place, not bothered by work, both of you doing very domestic stuff, made you feel really touchy feely. And Zayne was much aware of this notion from the very start of the day. Not that he every denied your loving affection, no not ever.

He accepted every hug or kiss, and returned it with much love. Oh, how it only fuels the fire of your clingy nature even more.

Here you are, coming out from the kitchen, to lean against the wall, with a glass of sweet tea in hand. You tilt the glass towards your mouth as your eyes were trained on one thing in particular.

There Zayne sat on the large couch, in the living room, with a book in hand. His eyes soft but narrowed in focus as he reads the pages, he's currently on. His back leaning on the cushions, skillfully flipped each page with his thumb. As his elbow was pressed against the arm of the couch, with a small portion of a sugar cookie the two of you had baked not long ago, in his hands. He immediately finishes it, taking it into his mouth with a small hum. Licking off any specks of crusts lingering on his fingers.

Watching this perfect, handsome, hunk of man as your sipping your tea just sent you up in orbit. It was too much to take in. Does he know how amazing he is, just sitting there? That's what you thought, the audacity of this man to sit and read so cutely, in his causal home attire -white shirt and grey sweatpants-

You had to do something about it.

You walk up to where Zayne was, placing the cool glass on top of the glass ottoman in the middle of the living room. The clink of the glass made Zayne look up at you. His demeanor calm and relaxed, before looking down at his book.

"Any thoughts about what you'd like for din-"

Before he could even finish that sentence, Zayne was attacked.

He found your hands squeezing his cheeks harshly, pulling him closer to your face. You bend down to kiss him on the lips. His eyes widening in shock and confusion.

But you continue you assault on him.

You kiss him very passionately and aggressively. Hands running along his jet-black locks like a crazy loon, messy up his hair. All while you muttered along his lips, words of affirmation.

"God dang it Zayne! You -kiss- are so -kiss- perfect -kiss- uugh!!"

You start to kiss all over his face. To his cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, and anywhere else you could get your lips on. His book on the floor, as he had already dropped it do to your aggressive love session. His eyes still wide with so much confusion.

It didn't even stop there, as you suddenly push this man, laying his back onto the couch. Pinning him by his shoulders just to keep him still. Your kisses never stopping, as you go lower to his neck, giving him rough kisses down to his collarbone.

Finally, you pull away.

You had found yourself straddling the poor man, your arms still pinning down his upper body.

You look to see his full face that was very much a very funny and cute site. His ears were burning red, hair a mess as he stared at you with such unreadable green eyes. His mouth was slightly agape as if he was trying to figure out what to say to you in that moment. But he closes it, his lips in a tight line, eyes closed, inhaling a long breath to re-catch his own thoughts.

His head leans to the side as he opens his eyes, not looking you in your own eyes. Zayne's heart was pounding in his chest right now.

"You...-sigh-"

You couldn't help but laugh at this site of him. It was too funny to behold, seeing Zayne completely embarrassed and yet flustered at the same time.

"Caught you off guard huh?"

You quip with a prideful smirk on your lips. Zayne brings his eyes to look up at you. You could see he was trying to act all serious, and calm, but it was obviously faltering. As you could see the corners of his mouth flick up in a small grin. His emotions getting the better of him, as he lets out a laugh. A mix between disbelief and fondness.

"Well, I didn't expect to be attacked in my own home by my partner."

He states this, and you laugh even more. An endless supply of giggles and laughter that you couldn't stop. One that Zayne couldn't help but join in, loving the sound of your laughter.

You let go of his shoulders, before leaning down to give a soft kiss to your boyfriend. A sweet smile stretching across your mouth.

"Well, you're just going to have to get use to it. Because there's definitely more to come in the future."

He rolls his eyes at you.

"I fear for my safety."

He says this sarcastically of course, but deep down he's already preparing for the next attack. Just in case, so next time you do this stunt again, he'll be able to calm his heart. Because that shit made him feel like he was having a straight-up heart attack.

════════════════════════════

XAVIER

You were laying on your bed.

Stomach first, as your feet were up in the air. Your hands clutch onto your phone, watching silly videos. Xavier was up in your bathroom taking a shower from a hard day of working. You had already taken a shower first, reasons being that Xavier told you to go in first, and second was because he was already on the verge of sleep. You were about to say to take a shower together, but the man was already nodding off as he sat on your bed. So, you decided to allow him to take a quick nap while you take your shower.

It has been a long day for the both of you, as you had both just got done with work. A bunch of wanderers to take down here and there, nothing too serious of a threat to get badly hurt, but enough to feel exhausted. And it definitely showed with the both of you, glad that it was the end of the day.

Xavier wanted to come over your apartment, because he finds it more comfortable, and wanted to sleep with you tonight. Plus, you figured he was too lazy to go up to his own apartment complex that was just a floor above yours. You never complain, as you would also come over to his complex and sleep there sometimes.

As you were kicking your feet, over the audio on your phone, you could hear the shower suddenly turn off. Indicating that Xavier was all done with his shower. He soon later came out, opening the door the connected to the bedroom. He lets out a silent yawn; while wiping his hair with a small white towel, a large towel was wrapped around his waist. His body shinning in the dim light from the room lights, due to the excess water cascading down his chest and stomach. You can see his full tempting v-line below his abdomen making your face heat up from the delicious site alone. He looked so appetizing yet cute at the same time.

You turned off your phone, placing the device on the bed-side counter. You sat up before getting off the bed, making strong strides towards your gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes open a bit seeing you coming forth, watch as you wrapped your arms around his torso head leaning on his slight wet chest. You didn't mind though, as you snuggled with him, smelling his freshly showered body. The scent of sweet vanilla filling your nose; he used your body wash.

"Hmm...You smell good."

A goofy smile presents itself on your lips. Xavier smiles softly, leaning in your touch as his own arms wrapped around you. His arms holding onto your shoulders rubbing them gently. The small towel he held was draped securely around his neck. His head buried into your hair, nosed pressed against your hair, smelling you as well.

"So do you.."

He whispers this in a low hum, eyes closed as he embraces you. You could feel his heart beat slow and relaxed inside his chest. Xavier's soft snores making you chuckle. The fact that this man can sleep standing up still amazes you.

"Sleepy?"

"Hm."

Xavier hums again, as if to say yes, his arms holding you closer to his body. His body leans into yours, the weight of him not fully on you, as if he was stopping himself from falling on top of you. You let out a sigh rolling your eyes. The cuteness of this man was just too much; it made you giggle a bit.

Without a thought or hesitation, your hands go lower till you reached the back of his thighs. Xavier can feel this, but he doesn't back away nor think anything of it. That was until you used all of your strength, bending your knees, and you use this strength to pick up your boyfriend. Xavier eyes widen as he was suddenly up from the ground, your struggling of course but still it was an achievement. Carrying your sleepy boy by his own thighs, before waking back to the bed. Xavier was very shaken from this move, his hands clinging to your shoulders as he blushes heavily.

"[Y-Y/N]...what are you doing?"

You smiled looking up at your flustered boyfriend, "Carrying...ngh my exhausted boyfriend of course~"

It was all you said, and only Xavier could look at you with wide eyes and a simple nod of okay. His tiredness going away as he watched his own girlfriend carry him around, he didn't know how to feel about this, but it wasn't unwelcomed.

It wasn't long till you reached the bed, slamming the boy right on to the soft bed, making him lay on his back. His small towel was already gone, falling onto the floor when you picked him up. His other towel wrapped around his waist, was defiantly loose, clinging onto him for dear life. But still covered his crotch.

Once settled onto the bed, you crawled your way in between his thighs, your hands running along up his thighs to his stomach. Making way to his chest then finally his soft cheeks. You squish his cheeks in your hands, body resting on top of his. You lips lean in to kiss him on the nose before moving to his lips. His hands were now at your waist, rubbing your sides.

"Are you sleepy now?"

You say this pulling away, but it seemed like Xavier was chasing your lips. His cheeks were still flushed with pink, but his shock expression turned into a very sweet playful grin. His hands tracing along your back, slightly teasing underneath your tank top you were wearing.

"Not at the moment no."

You were suddenly rolled over, as Xavier had now turned the tables. His body pinning you underneath him, his baby blue eyes looking down at you with so much mischief. His hand made its way to your cheek, stroking it was such softness as if you were a delicate relic.

"I think I'd like to stay up for a little while, how about you~?"

You chuckle as you pulled Xavier by his neck, His face and lips close you yours.

"Sounds fine by me~"

You whispered back before his lips connected with yours passionately.

════════════════════════════

CALEB

Pranks were nothing but natural for you and Caleb.

Ever since you were kids you two would pull all types of small pranks on each other. Not mean big pranks that would cause problems in one's relationship. But small harmless pranks that make each other laugh and keep the relationship more fun and fresher. To get competitive and try to one-up each other the next month or two.

It was your love language.

And it was your turn.

Oh, how you've been dying to try and get Caleb back. You were still pouting over the last prank he did. You could remember it like it was yesterday. The man had deliberately placed fake cockroaches all underneath your bed comforter. You of course did not realize it. Already freaking out with disgust and fear, running to Caleb about your "unfortunate" situation. Hugging and whimpering to him while you pushed him to the problem. Only for him to laugh and say how those cockroaches were all plastic toys.

You then start to curse him, while beating his chest -soft punches- giving him the biggest mean mug pout. One that he finds absolutely adorable. He makes up for this by promising to take you out to this new big carnival that just opened up around the neighborhood.

Today was the day of the carnival.

And both you and Caleb were getting ready that late afternoon. Hoping to get there early and on time for the rides and games.

You closed the door to your shared room, checking your small purse to make sure you got everything you needed. You're wearing a nice yellow blouse, white tank top underneath with a light jean skirt. It wasn't going to be cold, just a nice warm day.

Once you made it to the spacious room where the living room and kitchen connected. You could see your boyfriend turned to you. His back bent a little as his focus was on his phone, scrolling aimlessly, elbows on the kitchen counter. He was dresses up as well, in a very familiar outfit. His sleeveless white logo shirt, with black jeans pants.

He looked so handsome in the moment. His muscular back and shoulders showing of through the white shirt, His long arms, especially his biceps that flexed a bit on top of the kitchen counter. His hips tutting to the side a bit. You couldn't see his face fully, but you could already imagine how he looked. Eyes narrowed but soft, probably biting his lip as he scrolls through whatever feed he's on, all while he's waiting for you.

It was in that moment...you had an opening.

Slowly, you sneak your way over to Caleb. Making sure your sock covered feet won't make any noise against the tile floors. It seems he doesn't notice you at all.

So, taking your only shot, as you make it behind him, your hand raised to aim for his ass. Immediately striking him down against his left cheek harshly, causing the man to gasp loudly. His eyes were wide, but before he could turn around and say anything, your hand that slapped his ass, remained there. Giving his ass couple of good squeezes while your chest was flushed against his back.

"Fuck, you're lookin so hot! Look at this ass!"

"[Y/N]..!"

You didn't give him any time what-so-ever. Turning him around roughly, only to push him back. You could see his very shocked and surprised face now. His cheeks full on flushed with red, a face that made you grip his cheeks with on hand to pull his close to yours. You give him a big fat kiss onto his lips, before pushing him off, making the man look at you dumbfounded.

"Face matches up nicely, not bad at all~"

You tease as your hands rested against his ass, giving his cheeks a squeeze while playing humping his waist. He looks at you so confused, as if you had two heads. There was a moment of pure silence. That was until Caleb begins to grin so big that it could hurt, before a big laugh erupts his whole body.

His chest heaving and rumbling as his hand makes it way to cover his eyes in embarrassment but much amusement as well. He couldn't stop laughing, and it made you laugh as well, your hands coming off his ass to just wrap around his torso. Head leaning against his chest.

"W-What was that pipsqueak!?"

Caleb's hand goes down from his face, looking at you with a big playful smirk gracing his lips. You smirk back with a wink.

"Nothing! Can't I appreciate my boyfriend's hotness?"

Caleb chuckles, leaning in to give your forehead a kiss.

"Never said you couldn't...but with a stunt like that, I say you must be getting even with me huh?"

Before you can retort back, Caleb grabs up by the waist using his strong arms. You gasp as you're now in the air, Caleb turning you to the counter so he can settle you done on the cool marble. Your legs wrapped around his waist, as your arms wrapped around his neck. He held your tightly against him.

"I would congratulate you on that prank of yours, but I would be lying saying that prank won't cost ya. We might be a bit late arriving to the carnival. After that bit, how can I possibly let you go...naughty girl~"

He says this as his head moves to your neck to place feathered kisses along your collarbone. It tickled causing you to giggle, the thought of missing the carnival making you wiggle in his hold whining.

"Caleb, nooo..!"

Yeah, you were definitely going to be late.

════════════════════════════

SYLUS

Catching Sylus off guard, can be a very difficult task at hand.

It seemed like no matter what, he always knew what move you were going to make. Calculating each future ten step you would say or do just so he can throw it right back in your face. And it definitely frustrated you.

A fierce man who was hard to take down.

In fact, he was the one catching you off guard. He was the one surprising you the most and getting you all flustered in the cheeks with his devious nonchalant attitude. It's a rare and very rare moment when Sylus was ever caught being flustered. And even in those rare occasions, he can easily and quickly hide it inside, composing himself as if it didn't phase him at all. As if he had already predicted your tricks, before you can ever see his reactions.

And so, you were on a mission.

A mission to complete subdue and fluster your Onychinus leader boyfriend. It took you half a month to come up with any idea. A good top idea to catch this man way off guard, just so you can win. You just wanted win over him, even if it's just one time. To get him stuttering over his words. And finally, you came up with an idea, a brilliant idea, one where you hoped and prayed that it will very much work.

You texted Sylus on how you'll meet him tonight at his place. He of course welcomed this arrival, his home literally opened to only you at any time of the day. You made your way, rushing to the N109 zone to Sylus's grand mansion. Preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

Once there, you greeted both Luke and Kieran who both welcomed you back. Wondering what the rush was, but you could only give them both a question back asking where Sylus was.

"Boss is-"

"-In his office." They both said.

Perfect!

Working out exactly how you wanted.

"Thank you, see ya later!"

They watched as you rushed down the hallway with a very confused but interested look, wondering what you were planning.

Sylus was in his office, just finishing up closing a deal via phone call. He sighed as he leaned against his chair running a hand through his own locks, looking around the room with his ruby red eyes. Mephisto was in his office - more luck for you -, and Sylus was thinking about you. Waiting for you to come to him.

He then hears a knock at the door making his lips curl into a smile. He can tell from just the knock alone that it was you.

"Come on in kitten."

Nothing.

The door didn't open, nor was there any sound before or after that came with it. His brow quirks at this peculiar moment.

"Kitten, I said you can come in."

He says this a bit louder, but again no answer, or door opening. And he was already confused from the start, because normally you'd just barge right in with that innocent smile of yours. But you didn't even do that. So, know Sylus was on edge but gratefully intrigued by what was going on. Wondering what you were planning behind that door.

He gets up from his chair, walking towards the lavish design door. Once he made it and he opens the door, he gets suddenly pulled by the collar of his shirt. His body leaning and his lips quickly connecting to yours. His eyes looked at you, wide and in disbelief but it wasn't over yet.

Using a tackling move on him, you swiftly used your leg to grapple behind his left leg. You used you full weight so that he would fall to the ground with a harsh thud. Your lips still on him as your hands moved to grab his own wrists and pin the above his head so that he wouldn't go anywhere. You were now straddling his waist, kissing him roughly before pulling back to only bite his cheek.

The man gasps as he was still to stunned to speak. He could only watch as you aggressively manhandle him. Your bites moved to his neck which caused Sylus to grunt lowly. His cheeks and ears red, still so confused. His brain trying to regain any semblance of reasoning but failing terribly so.

Once you pulled away to look at him, a big smile came to your lips as you looked at Sylus. His expression was priceless, funny, cute even as he looked up at you. You can finally say you've taken down Sylus.

Sylus clears his throat, lips curling into a smirk, shaking his head from your actions.

"Is...this some type of new fighting strategy of yours? If so, I'm not so keen for you to use it on other people."

You laughed.

"Nope, I just wanted to tackle you into submission. And I finally got you!"

You hear a big rich laugh come from Sylus. The pitch a bit heightened as he found this incredibly silly and adorable. He could just maneuver his way out of your hold easily or even use his evol to overpower you. But he doesn't, liking the proud face you made of finally overpowering him. Using your smart skills to gain the upper hand of the situation. It made his heart jump inside his chest happily.

"You know, if you wanted to over-power me, you could have just asked~"

"That's a load of bull and you know it! As if you'd gone easy on me if I did asked!"

Sylus laughs again, making you roll your eyes at him. But your body suddenly sits up right, as Sylus uses his strength to break from your pinned hands. He traps your arms behind your back with his one strong hand, his other hand gripping your chin gently, thumb rubbing the bottom of your lip. His eyes shooting down to your eyes, with his infamous smirk that made your stomach flip.

"You're right kitten. It's more fun to tease and let you work for your food, then to let you have it easy. But don't worry, I'll be gladly waiting for the next time you try to catch me off gaurd~"

════════════════════════════

RAFAYEL

You and Rafayel decided why not work out together.

Well, more like you were going to work out and train your body. But a certain purple-haired artistic man called before you could even go to your local gym. Of course, you picked up your phone hearing him complain about he was bored. You told him how you were going to the gym, and Raf found that as the perfect moment to come along with your endeavors.

He suggested going to his private gym he uses at home. He says he's been wanting to blow off some steam due to Thomas insisting -more like pestering to Rafayel - to create more art for his gallery. The deadline was almost due and Rafayel has been procrastinating with other projects. Telling Thomas there is no deadline to when it comes to art, he'll feel the inspiration when he feels it. And so here he is with you.

This is honestly a first for you.

Working out with him that is.

Watching that beautiful man stretching his own body with much ease as you both did warm-ups. Seeing his biceps and forearms flex as he does push-ups. The way his abdomen tenses when he did crunches. Or how he looked so pretty on the treadmill, running full laps. Hair bouncing, sweat dripping, muscles moving, ass tempting. Even when he took a few walk breaks you could hear his controlled breathing and pants.

He looked so pretty in those moments, truly you were captured by this handsome siren. God, you felt so lucky in that moment, you could watch him run all day long. So much so that you had completely lost track of time, your mind on auto pilot throughout your whole workout session.

The both of you were panting, sweat dripping down your foreheads, Body sore but refreshed in a way all in a day's good work-out. Rafayel sighs sweeping a hand through his front locks with a relieved sigh escaping his mouth.

"I'm exhausted, I don't know who's working me to death, you or Thomas~"

Rafayel grins while joking making you roll your eyes with a small laugh.

He goes into a corner of the gym. There was L-shaped counter with a sink. A mini refrigerator that was set up top, And a round circular table in the middle. Rafayel immediately went to the fringe to grab a bottle of water. Leaning against the table he unscrews the cap taking a few gulps of cool water down his throat.

You do the same, following your boyfriend, but your eyes were only trained on Rafayel. His left arm, behind him, hand placed upon the white table to stabilize himself. His back a bit arched, showing the indent of his pecks and abs through his black sleeveless tight compressed shirt. His waist looking so snatchable as his legs slightly crossed over one another.

Drinking the cool water did nothing to ease the burning tension inside of you.

Rafayel places his water down on the table, his hand reaching out to his shoulders to rub them a little. All while he rambled on and on about his problems, Thomas nagging, and blah blah blah.

That was it you can't take it anymore.

"I swear, I bet Thomas is calling my phone about no-"

Quickly you made your move on Rafayel. You grab at his thighs tightly making him blush and shut up. But then you start to lift him up, causing the man before you to gasp and wiggle in your hands.

"[Y/N]! Aah w-wait!"

You didn't listen to his gasps and pleas, as you use your full strength to pick him up and place his ass on top of the table. His legs wide and spread for you, almost wrapped around your waist. His water bottle accidently falling, spilling onto parts the table and floor. You kept a good tight hold onto him, giving his thighs a good squeeze,

Your lips meet his to kiss him briefly, a tease at the most. Before moving to his cheeks and nose, even his exposed neck.

Rafayel's hands were on your shoulders, not knowing whether to push you off of hold you close to him. His face was redder than a tomato, ears included, as he watches his own girlfriend assault him like this.

You then pull away with mischievous smirk on your face, all you could see was Rafayel with that sweet brattish pout pursing his plump lips. He looks at you, eyes narrowed but it was soft. Rafayel gives you a look of incredible disbelief and shock from what just happened.

"I-I can't believe, did you just..?!"

You laugh at him, causing his cheeks to flush even more. His eyes looking away from your gleeful face. It was adorable to witness it. Seeing him in this type of position. Your hands moved, sliding up to his ass, you can feel him tensing up, his breath getting heavy as though he was working out again. You gave him gentle pats at first, but them with your right hand gave him a hard smack placed upon his cheek.

Rafayel lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, his eyebrows furrowed in a glare. Looking at you with such a appalled face. He was truly was embarrassed.

"H-Hey watch it!"

"What, are you embarrassed baby~?"

Rafayel says nothing, the nickname only making him groan, letting out a long dramatic sigh. His eyes once again still darted away from your owns.

"This must what it feels like to be a woman, being preyed upon by others. I'm all defenseless here, it's scary thing. My own bodyguard taking advantage of me, in my own gym."

"It's not my fault my boyfriend is so beautiful. You really are, looking so pretty while you worked out today."

Rafael didn't really say anything, but you can he was trying not to let your words get to you. But it was failing, as your compliments only made his heart race even more. Fidgeting while you held on tight to him trying to distract himself with the gym appliances around the room.

"Sooo...you're saying you don't like it?"

You give him another kiss on the cheek playfully, making him turn his head finally towards you. His legs bringing you even closer, wrapping fully around your waist to lock you in. While his hands wrapped around your shoulders. It made you giggle, his actions way louder than his actual words.

"I never said that."

You smile as he can't help but smile back at you. He couldn't prolong his pout anymore, he's just too damn infatuated - and slightly aroused - at this new position of his. He leans in to kiss you on the lips, the kiss starting off as sweet before slowly turning deep and passionate. His eyes haze over with a growing smirk of his own.

"I'm definitely not going be able to finish my art piece now cutie~"

════════════════════════════

#love and deepspace #lads #headcanons #zayne x reader #caleb x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #fluff

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dilf-docs · 2 months ago

Text

From This Time, Unchained

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel doesn't know why, of all the people in jackson, you've chosen him.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), BIG age gap (20s/60s) (does it look like igaf), smut, begging kink, praise kink, oral (f. receiving), breast play, dacryphilia, hurt/comfort, soft!joel, insecure!joel, fluff bc my dying man deserves it💔 #joelmillerapologistclub

word count: 8,554 words

side note: joel miller widow club where u at??? i wish i could write a fix-it fic but my heart is too heavy even after a week lol and my ass too people pleaser-ish to write allat. (i haven't seen last night's ep yet bc this weekend has been ass!!) so, instead, have this piece because peepaw deserves love and a good fuck with his glasses on! (shout out to my joel miller playlist, u saved me girl) (also girl why did i battle with this like for four days lmaoooo not me posting it 9 seconds before midnight)

Joel Miller is a busy man.

All of Jackson seems to need him. Be it his neighbours, with a broken faucet or be the council, for his skills in construction, or even Maria and Tommy, when they wanted some time alone and he got to be the fun uncle for a couple of hours. Even Ellie, who didn't need him, as she liked to remind him, yet he still found himself in her garage, where she moved despite his reluctance, dusting off shelves or the forgotten guitar in a corner, all to feel useful for the one who he cared for the most.

That spot was debatable, thought. There was his brother, his niece, maybe Maria, Ellie, recently Dina and well, you.

You. Sweet you. Town's favorite girl. A complete dream. The girl next door embodied. Looks that aim to kill. It killed him. So damn perfect he can't help but wonder why, of all Jackson, you'd choose brooding old Joel Miller.

The one you'd give your smiles to, because even if you shared it to the world, your reserved your best for him only. His patrol partner, the beauty of the snowed-in landscape barely rivaling your own. Who you'd give your hours, always appearing when he needed you most, eyes open wide with that shine of theirs it was impossible to resist, not to trust. He had been a faithless man for too long, wandering in the dark. Eyes closed. Then came Ellie, and it was gone, coming back the days when Sarah was his babygirl. But it returned when she pushed him away, but you had stepped in, not as a replacement but as an oath. Something to hold on.

To believe.

In anything. In you. In the us, silent but strong. Watchful, like the stars shinning above in the sky, twinkling as the sound of your laugh when you and him would watch them, sitting on his roof. He let this things happen, let his guard down and allowed himself to be childish and soft, even if his joints ached when he got up and he could fall. But you were there, and falling... It didn't sound bad.

(He knew you'd be there to catch him, anyway. Even if you weren't that strong and he wasn't exactly... well, featherweight)

Right now, he's working. Not for Jackson, but or you. Furrowed brow and shoulders slumped over his table at the workshop, concentrated, his glasses perched on his nose. He hates them, another reminder of the time passed by, yet there's no option. At least not if he wants to give you the very best.

Ah, yes. His latest project. A little wood carving. Doesn't have a shape yet, like your relationship. He chuckles to himself, feeling silly. What where labels anymore in this world, anyway? Still, he can't fanthom the nature of it. It sounded more like a perverted old man's fantasy, if he's being honest, the glances thrown his way from townsfolk a little cruel reminder. You're no good, you'd jokingly sing that one song and, despite the judgment, he'd smile. For you, anything.

Like the figurine. Joel finally sees it take shape. And then there's a knock in the door. Sharp. Same as yesterday, and as the year before ever since he's had you like this.

"Come in" he says, not looking up as you enter.

He's too focused, voice sounding gruff for the long hours of silence since he sat down with an idea in mind; pounding heart, trembling hands.

"Hey, Joel"

He takes his glasses off, placing them on the table, before standing up to greet you. He crosses the short distance and wraps his arms around you in a tender hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He smells like wood and sweat. His musk lingers, so does his tight embrace. As if you'd dissappear if he didn't.

"Missed ya', sweet girl" he mumbles, voice muffled.

You giggle a bit. "I was gone for an hour. Are you getting clingy on me, Miller?"

You loved to tease him. Bad habit of yours. He lets out a low chuckle that rumbles on his chest and against your skin. He pulls back from the hug, yet his arms now drop to your waist, because he's addicted to keeping you close.

"Too damn long" he protests, carrying his southern accent within.

"I love when that Texan drawl slips in" you sigh, poking his cheek. He leans into your touch, like a touch-starved puppy. You then look at him, pouting your lips with a small frown. "Hey, and your glasses?"

"Huh?" he looks at the pair, sitting on the table. Forgotten. "Over'ere. For?"

You shrug. Joel shoots you a suspicious look. "Darlin', why you so interested in my glasses?"

You avert his gaze. The floor is more interesting now.

"Honey... Look at me. S'okay if you don't wanna-"

"I like how you look when you wear them" you finally blurt out, too fast and too quiet.

He's taken back by that. Eyes wide, probably written all over his face. Yet you refuse to look at him. He tips your chin up, so you can meet his gaze. It's soft, making your legs wobbly.

"Is that so?" he asks, teasingly. He still can't believe you actually like them. "You like when old men wear them glasses, baby?"

"Hhm, yeah" you hum. "More if it's you"

His heart skips a beat at your response. Fuck. He's gone soft, too soft. He feels his face heat up, chuckling in an attempt to cover it. Then, runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the base of his neck, a tell-tale sign he's feeling awkward. Flustered, even.

"You gon' give me a heart attack, honey. 'M too old for ya' to say things like that"

"Aw, old man can't take a compliment?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. Then, you stand up on your tiptoes to whisper on his ear. "You're cute when you blush"

Joel's sure his face has gone redder, breath hitching as well. Still, he manages to put his arms around your waist, holding you close.

"You're real bad" he grumbles, though there's no bite on his tone. He hides his face again in the crook of your neck. "And I'm not blushing"

You giggle, patting his head lightly as your fingers trace his now long hair. If it didn't drive you wild...

"Then stop hiding"

Joel relaxes under your touch. "You're trouble. I'm serious 'bout the heart attack"

"No" you exaggerate, rocking him slightly. "Don't die"

He looks up at you, smirking as he groans with fake annoyance.

"If you keep that up, I might do"

"Then who will I bore with my failed recipes and gossip?"

"Thankfully, not me"

You groan. "Oh, shut up you old man"

You're always calling him that. Not that he minds, he knows you're not doing it with malice, but sometimes it annoys him. For example, today.

"Well, you chose 'tis old man so don't go complainin', honey"

You huff. "Unfortunately, I love this old man with his old-man ways. Like your woodcarving"

After saying so, you take a small peek over his figure, still drapped over your chest and neck, to the table behind. "Speaking of, can I see what you're doing?"

He looks back, where he's left the figurine unnattended after your arrival. Lets go of you, taking a step back so you get a better look.

"Sure, darlin'. Go'head"

Joel thinks he's good at hiding the nervousness in his voice as you approach the table. He crosses and uncrosses his arms, anxiously.

"Your glasses" almost in a reflex, passing them to him before seeing what's on the table. "Can you wear them, Joel? Pretty please"

He takes the glasses from your hands, fingers brushing. It may be that or your request that make his heart jump. You can see some hesitation on him before he puts them on. Looking down at you, smirking, Joel smiles.

"There ya' go, sweet girl. Happy now?" he asks, a hint of huskiness in his voice.

"So much better" you tap them lightly, "and so is your vision"

Joel let's out a small chuckle, grinning like a fool. Honestly, he loves the attention.

(He's never going to admit it out loud, though)

"You do know how'da flatter an old man, huh"

You smirk, moving to the table again. "Oh, I love flattering him. Now, show me what you're working on"

There's a block of wood on the center. Cut sharp. Perfectly. He's been obssesive with it, maybe. There's a sketch, and the figurine only has been carved at the bottom, where a tail begins to take shape.

"I know am not an artist, but I tried"

You remain silent, making him a little nervous.

"S'a deer" he explains, gruffly, looking into your eyes for a reaction.

"A deer? Like, Bambi?" you ask in awe, softly tracing the wood. Your words get stuck, like honey. Sweet but sticky. "Joel..."

His heart swells a bit at your tone, expression soft as he recognizes admiration in your tone.

"Yeah, like damn Bambi" he murmurs, hands itchy. First, he shoves them on his pockets, just to take them out and place them on his hips instead, his jacket now open, the silhoutte of his tummy under his shirt showing, the flannel stretched on the middle. He watches you closel as you face him again.

"Is it- Is it for me?" you ask in that voice that, goddamn it, makes Joel want to give you the whole world if he could.

He slowly nods, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Yeah" he admits, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "S' for ya"

Then looks away, feeling vulnerable for some reason. But your lips quiver, and before he can register, you throw yourself at him, hands around his neck, body practically swinging. He stumbles a bit, yet manages to catch you alright.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you gush, peppering his cheek with kisses. "I know it's not even done but, wow. Thank you, Joel!" an adorable squeal leaves your mouth, and as soon as that is out, your lips find his to leave a sweet kiss on his mouth. When you calm down, your voice goes soft. "It's... No one had ever done something like this for me"

He's clearly taken by surprise by your affection outburst, his heart swelling at your reaction and giddyness. He's also a bit overwhelmed, kissed cheeks now a pretty flushed pink. There's something so warm and fond on his eyes as he looks down on you, cupping your cheek after your final kiss.

"S'nothin', sweet girl. You're welcome"

"You're so special, Joel. Did you know that?" you whisper, leaning into his touch while closing your eyes.

Good. He's probably a mess right now, his heart clenching on his chest, a mix of emotions washing over him. God, he hates getting compliments, but yours always stirred things he long ago thought dead.

"Special, huh?" he grumbles while sporting a half-smile. "I reckon that's you"

You smirk. "We can both be special, then. There's always room for two"

He runs his thumb over your cheek, chuckling a bit. "Deal. But you're a bit more"

"Oh, you want to compete?" you tease.

He smirks at the challenge, pulling you closer with a tight arm around your waist.

"Damn right I do. Y'know I like winnin'. 'Sides, 'm more than willin' to play if it means ya' get competitive 's well. You're cute when you challenge me, baby"

You feign hurt. "I'm always cute, how dare you"

"Oh, forgive me" he chuckles. "At this age I tend to forget"

"Don't worry. I'll beat your ass so bad, you won't forget it"

He archs an eyebrow, amused. "Now you abuse the elder? Bad girl"

Your face flushes and core pulses.

"I can be a bit of a brat if I want to" you tease, fingers roaming over his warm chest. "Will you punish me for that?"

Joel's eyes darken on an instant. There's a shadow of desire coating his brown when a low rumble escapes his throat. The air feels charged with a new found tension suddenly.

"Careful, sweet girl. You ain't know what you playin'"

He closes the gap between you, his body pressing against yours. His hands move from your waist to grip your hips, holding you against him.

"You're quite mouthy tonight, aren't 'cha?" he growls, his voice carrying a rough edge.

"Just to get what I want. Besides, your little project tug at my hearstrings" you quip. "And something else"

"Oh, yeah? You gon' tell me what's that?"

You smirk. "What do you think it is?"

He hums. "I'd rather hear you say it"

"That's not fair" you pout your lips.

He chuckles, "Nothin' ever is fair, I reckon. But you're a troublesome little thing, ain't ya'?"

You send him a little flirtatious wink.

"I am looking for some trouble tonight"

He's not amused by your words. You're a greedy insatiable little thing sometimes. So far, Joel's been able to deflect all of your attempts. The farthest you'd ever made it was when you straddled his lap on the old couch of his workshop, and even then, he limited his reactions to grunts and seeing you come. God. It had been tortuous waiting for you to go so he could piston his aching cock to the memory of your little sounds.

"Ain't that interesting?"

"Oh, but it is" you're quick to counter, "and I take you and your little friend are into it"

His breath hitches, eyes and cheeks burning alike with intensity. The heat travels down his spine, straight to his throbbing dick, the reason he's been caught red-handed.

"You surely are looking for trouble" his voice reduced to a rough gasp.

Joel's struggling to maintain the control he so prided himself in, you not making it any easier with your teasing. "Y'a temptress, doll. Know that?"

"Is my magic working?" you ask, batting your eyelashes.

He's resolve is quickly crumbling, self-control tossed to the bin in the corner. Joel loves as much as he hates your big innocent yet teasing eyes. No wonder he was carving you out a deer.

"Damnit, sweet girl. Y'know it's. You gettin' me all worked up in'ere"

"Take me upstairs, then. I'm sure we can find a solution"

He can feel the heat radiating off of you, eyes darkening at the invitation.

"Doll, you're playing with fire here" he warns, despite the obvious effect your words are having on him.

"It's fine. I don't mind the burn"

He knows he's done, Joel's growl an indicator of his control snapping completely.

"Damn it" he mutters before his lips crash against yours. It's heated. Desperate. His hands grip your hips, holding you tighlty against him while he devours your mouth like a starved man, as if you didn't kiss just this morning, before going on your patrol.

You moan into the kiss, Joel swallowing your sounds as if they were his own. Fuck. His mind goes fuzzy when you grab his face with both of your hands, deepening the kiss. He thinks he's backed you against a wall, by the small Thud sound. He's lost: on the way your lips move, on the way they taste, in the sounds they make.

You pull out first. Joel thinks you belong in a museum: with your lips, swollen and parted. It's too your dilatated eyes and chest, rising and falling. He can't resist and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingers tenderly brushing your soft skin.

"Aren't you the prettiest man in Jackson?" you blurt out, adoring.

He's not used to being praised like this. Not even by you, even after months of doing so. Always feels like the first time. And then, he feels stupid: for blushing too much, heart skipping too many beats, chest clenching too hard. Like a damn highschooler. Joel's as embarrassed as content that you make him feel all sort of ways.

"Easy, sugar" he mutters, voice gruff. "You gon' give 'tis old man an ego"

"No need to blame me when you can look at yourself in the mirror" you're quick to reply. "I believe that's enough reason to give you some ego"

He's smirking at your response. Yeah, he definitely loves when you stroke his ego. Especially as of late, where he feels... rather, old.

"Oh. Oh" you begin to tease through giggles, playfully hitting his chest. He huffs, catching where this is going. "Do you like it when I call you pretty?"

Joel's cheeks flush a little at your question, his stoic nature faltering a bit at your teasing.

"Maybe" he mumbles, eyes avoiding yours. "But don't let it get to your head, doll"

"Too late" you murmur, wrapping once more your hands on his neck. "You're pretty, Joel. Especially when you flush"

Pretty isn't exactly a word he'd used to describe himself. But when you call him pretty, out of that sweet mouth of yours, his name along as well? You can call him however the fuck you want.

He can feel his body reek out vulnerability, and he hates himself a bit for getting weaker. He tried, really did, but his walls had been down for a while. His defenses had crumbled. He was pathetic, lonely, and sad. Yet here you were, looking at him with your big adoring eyes like he was the only thing that mattered. Joel lets your words sink for a moment, letting out a small sigh, not being able to deny it feels good. Maybe it does matter.

"You're too damn sweet, sugar. Y'know that?" he mutters, finger tracing lightly your hip.

You smile, sickenly saccharine. "I'm aware. Trust me, I have a cute grumpy boyfriend to remind me so"

His expression softens even more at your easy loving. He's so fucking putty in your hands, Tommy would laugh in his face.

"Y'got me wrapped 'round your damn finger, sweet girl" Joel whispers in his usual gruff voice, but it's laced with affection.

You raise a finger, moving it in front of his face like one would with a bone and a dog.

"You mean this?"

Joel watches your finger with amused eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. It scares and excites him how easy it's to fall under your spell. With soft movements, he reaches and captures your hand, bringing it to his mouth. He then presses a gentle kiss to your finger, eyes never leaving yours.

"Yeah, doll. This one" his voice is husky, "All of 'em. Y' got me good"

You gulp under the intensity of his gaze. "Don't do that..."

He smirks at your reaction, finally feeling like he has some leverage. He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as he holds you even closer, your chest pressing against his. You even feel the soft curve of his stomach over your own.

"Don't do what?" he asks, playing coy. "We're not backin' down now, are we, sugar?"

At your lack of answer, cheeks bright, he huffs, hand moving to gently cup your chin. Joel's brown eyes lock with yours when he speaks again.

"So, what now? Or did y' just come by to check up on your ol' man?"

"No. That's not what I want"

His smirk grows as the dark shade on his eyes. He's not dumb, of course he knows what you want. Just wants to hear you say it.

"What'da ya' want, then?"

You pout your lips, whining.

"Joel... Just give me what I want"

He leans in a bit closer, voice gruff and filled with desire. His thumb strokes your chin softly.

"Depends" he grumbles. "You gon' ask nicely?"

"On my very best behavior" you raise your hand, "I swear it"

He smirks, letting go of your face. "Good girl"

You stand on your tiptoes, leaning against his ear. His heart skips a beat, a small shiver running down his spine at your lips ghosting his skin.

"I am" you kiss his earlobe. "For you. Just you" you leave a little bite on it. A low rumble escapes his throat. You lick the red little spot to soothe it. "Your best girl"

"My only girl" he's quick to reply. You're up in the air in a minute, his hands supporting you as he carries you, your legs dangling at his sides. It amazed you how strong he continued to be, despite his age. Strong men make good times, you suppose.

You giggle a bit. "Oh, Joel. I'm so lucky"

His heart races at your words. All this banter fills him with a warm fondness, making him feel young again.

"I reckon that's me, doll"

Your noses brush after his comment, in silence. You close your eyes, as so does he. You break the aphony first.

"Joel"

"Yes?"

"I want you to have me"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest swelling with a mixture of emotion. No one has ever spoken to him with such tenderness, even with what your request implies. It's overwhelming.

"Ya' want me?" he asks gruffly, his voice hoarse with desire and emotion.

Fuck. It's happening. What he avoided so badly, but right now? His mind has gone blank, and when it starts working again, it's filled with lewd images of sweet you. Jesus. If he had doubts he was going to hell before, now he's certain. At least, he got heaven on Earth with you.

"Y' sure 'bout that, sugar?" he asks gruffly, his voice husky. "You're so damn young, deserve someone better"

You nod, slowly, caressing his cheek, your voice just barely above a whisper.

"I've never been more sure"

He takes a small moment to gather himself, his eyes never leaving yours. He's suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, and it scares him as much as it excites him.

"I mean, would've I done all this if I didn't?"

Joel lets out a small laugh. "You little devious minx. I'll give ya' that"

"Give me what?" you tease.

His lips crash into yours as your hands find his face, holding as you deepen the kiss. His fingers dig in your thighs, making you moan and a spark of electricity run through his spine. He lets out a low moan in response to yours, pulling away from your lips momentarily, his eyes darkening with want. Joel looks at you for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

He lets out a low rumble, his voice gruff and rough.

"Yeah" he mutters. "Keep talkin' like that, and you'll get more than a kiss"

"So, I'll keep talking then"

"Y' little brat" he grumbles, voice dripping with frustration. "If ya' don't stop, I'm gonna..."

Joel trails off, his eyes dark with promises left unspoken.

"Say it" you challenge. "Or are you backing down?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of self control, despite loving your teasing and how it's driving him wild. He lets out a small laugh, his mind swirling with desire and frustration.

"Y' gon' pay for that later, darlin'" he threatens gruffly, his eyes locked on yours.

"How about now?"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your question, the idea sending a surge of desire through him. He can feel his self-control slipping away, your words pushing him closer to the edge.

He lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his hand tightening around your chin. His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of desire and anticipation in them.

"Sure you wanna know, doll?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

"All of it" too eager. He can't help but smile, resolve unraveling. "Don't spare any details"

"And you gon' be a good girl?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Didn't I promise so?"

Those simple words are all it takes for Joel's resolve to finally crumble. Fuck what other people think. Fuck his own fears. He can't resist you any longer, the desire within him reaching boiling point.

"Shit, doll" he rasps, voice rough. "With words like that I'm just gon' give y'anythin' you want"

"Please, Joel" you utter his name in a little whimper.

"Please what?"

Loves to see you beg. Has imagined you squirming, like you did when his fingers would drift too close to your aching cunt. Straddling feels so stupid now, when he could've have sweet you like this a long ago.

"Fuck me"

The sound of your whimper goes straight to Joel's throbbing dick. He's completely undone, powerless against your desires.

"That's right, good girl" he rasps, his voice gruff and rough. You let a little whimper at the praise. "I'll give y'anythin' you want, angel"

He carries you upstairs while you giggle at his huffs, teasing him when his knees creak like the old wooden stairs. Still, he insists on carrying you when you offer to walk, maybe trying to prove his strength to you or something. When his face turns a deep shade of red, you can't tell if it's out of shame or effort.

"Taking me to your bed? I've never seen your bedroom" you muse out loud, once he reaches the final stair.

Despite the intensity of the moment, a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"There's always a first" he rasps.

Your nose brushes against his cheek. "Can't wait"

The door opens when Joel kicks it lightly. It's very him, you think, as soon as it comes on view. There's a guitar in the corner, you notice too.

"It's very you" you say out loud now. He drops you on the bed, making you giggle. "It's simple and cozy"

He's still trying to calm his racing heart, but it's difficult when he's hovering over you, so close to your body, he can feel the heat of it. Can even smell your arousal in the air.

"'M not sure simple's a nice thing t' say 'bout someone"

For a moment, the room goes quiet. He hesitates to continue.

"There's just... somethin' I need to discuss with ya' before we get carried 'way"

Your doe eyes look up to him. "Yes?"

Joel takes a deep breath.

"I've... It's been a while, y'know, since... I'm just used to bein' alone. In that sense. And I... I haven't been with someone in a long time"

His voice trails off, a vulnerability settling in his expression.

"Joel..." you whisper, sitting as he backs up a bit.

"'M not good with people" he admits gruffly. "I tend to scare 'em off"

You extend your hand to softly trace over his stubble. Joel leans into your touch, his expression softening, your presence providing a sense of comfort. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You're not scaring me. I'm here"

His mouth tastes like sand when he swallows.

"Yeah, but I-"

"Yes?"

He pauses for a moment, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"'M not exactly young anymore, sugar"

"And what's bad about not being young?" you look at him, voice soft. "Are you afraid your knees will crack when you go down on me or what?"

He lets out a clipped laugh. The tension in the room lightens a little, and he's grateful for your attempt to lighten the mood.

"Oh, very funny, sweetheart." he grumbles, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And no, 's not that. I can eat ya' just fine" Joel spits, making you laugh at his cocky demeanor. But then he goes quiet again. "It's just... 'M not as young and good lookin' as I used to be" he finally blurts out.

Why is he even saying this things out loud. He didn't care before. He thought about himself better before. Yeah, before. What is it about the now that he cares, worse, admits out loud his insecurities?

Your expression morphs into one of sympathy. God, he hates it. Looks away from your warmth and pity. No, not pity. Compassion, like Joel was some sort of wounded old dog.

"Joel" you close the distance, tracing his face tenderly, drawing little heart shapes over his stubble. "That's not true. You're as handsome as back in the day, baby. I didn't meet you then, I know that, and this may be biased, but I'll choose the old you always, my pretty boy"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his expression softening even more. He's not used to such tender affection, and it's overwhelming.

He takes a moment to process your words, his eyes never leaving yours. He can see the sincerity in your eyes, and it touches him more than he can express. Words were never his thing, anyway.

"Y/n" he mutters gruffly, his voice rough with emotion. He even used your name. "You're too good fo' me"

"I just... I think it's because I love you"

He's taken back, almost falling in top of you, yet quickly regaining his posture. Still, his heart jumps into his throat, dangerously close to falling out from his mouth at your sudden confession.

It's been almost a year of being his and him being yours, yet those three words hadn't even been close to being said. Joel never thought he'd get to hear them again from the lips of a lover. Yet here you were, so damn young and sweet, letting them roll off your tongue in a soft echo of your loving. Safe. Like a home. You were his home.

He looks at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

"Y'... Y' love me?" his voice rasping a bit as he questions you.

"It's okay if you don't say it back" you laugh quietly, probably to make him feel better. Always thinking about the others, you pure thing.

He looks you in the eye, his hand still cupping your cheek. There's a warm tenderness in his expression, despite his gruff tone.

"No. Don't think that" he goes quiet for a moment, as if the weight of your declaration was sinking him. He lets out a shaky breath, as if unsure if the world around him was real, his eyes locked on yours. "I... love you too"

Your eyes widen, a smile appearing instantly on your face as it lights up. His heart swells immediately at the sight of your happiness, and all he wishes for is to see it everyday. When he wakes up, to be first, and when he goes to sleep, your face the last thing to see. To be there, even as he closes his eyes and dozes off to sleep. Your giddy giggles are so fucking contagious, a rebellious smile creeps up his lips.

"You do?"

His chest tightens, vulnerable. Filled with an affection never known before.

"Yeah, sweet girl" he mutters gruffly. "I do. I love you"

Your smile is probably the most beautiful thing in the world, pleased and vicious like a cat's.

"Now, if you love me so dearly as you say, please" your lips part in a shaky breath, "have me"

So damn impatient. He may have spoiled you too much.

"Ya' want me t' have ya', honey?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide down your thighs, tainting untouched skin.

You squirm, nodding eagerly. "Please. I want you so bad it hurts"

His voice, so soft and low, may have passed as a grunt. But you saw. Heard. Noticed. Like the way his face frowned, eyebrows furrowed as if you just told him you were sick. As if he wanted to be the cure to the disease he gave you.

"Tell me where it hurts"

Demanding in a tender way. Almost benevolent. Not even hurting you, but wanted to take every pain of yours away. You didn't deserve not even a scratch of this angry dirty world ruining your soft heart.

You point to the middle of your legs, parting them slowly open. His eyes turn glassy as he tugs your jeans down, and the first sight he gets, is your underwear, damp with your sticky arousal. He gulps, eyes darkening with desire.

"Please. There" you whimper.

"I've got eyes" Joel lets out a small, gruff chuckle. "You're impatient, know that?"

He cups your chin, eyes locked on yours. His breath is shallow, voice raspy and low.

"Don't worry. Lemme help"

He places himself in between your legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties.

"Gon' show ya' what'a man with experience has to offer, al'ight? Now, spread y'r legs open for me" he commands softly. "Lemme see that beautiful, needy cunt"

He pulls your panties down, his throat dry when he peels the drenched fabric down your legs, revealing glistening folds. He can see how swollen and puffy they were. The sight makes his mouth water and his cock pulse with desire.

Joel lowers his head, knees and bed creaking, inhaling the sweet intoxicating smell of your arousal, his facial hear ghosting over your trembling skin until it tickles. Your nervous giggling get stuck in your throat when Joel buries his face between your thighs, tongue delving into your slick folds to lap up the sweet nectar that dripped from your cunt. He groans at the taste, as if savoring the best meal to exist on Earth.

"So sweet" he growls, voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His mouth latches onto your clit, suckling the throbbing needy bud as his tongue flicks over it. "Too damn sweet"

It still hurts. It's across your face.

"Gon' help with 'tis. Just wait" he thrusts two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt, pumping them in and out, curling them to stroke a spot that reduces you to a quiet muffled mess. "S' right, sugar" he praises. "Wanna see you come f' y'r old man"

The feeling of having you here, so needy and responsive, is doing things to him. Joel's lost on the way you beg, his name out of your parted lips in a secretive manner, as if reinforcing the nature of your desires and needs. How this moment was only yours, a whole new world past his door, creeping up the sweaty sheets, making way to his lonley heart, poisoned by the infectious warmth of your own.

He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, cute cries and whimpers serving as a motivation to bring you to the edge. Joel devours you, sucking like a starved man, flicking and lashing at your gushing cunt mercilessly with his tongue. It's experience, he made damn sure you knew about that. He also pumps his fingers faster, plunging deeper into your clutching heat.

"Come on, doll" he urges, voice a low rumble against your sex, "wanna feel 'tis tight little pussy spasm 'round ma' fingers"

"Joel!" you moan out loud, hands clawing into his arms for support.

He can feel your body tensing, your tight walls fluttering around the digits plunging in and out of you. Joel knew you were close, so he sucks your clit with fervent intensity as he curled his fingers just right, stroking that special spot that made your toes curl.

"That's it, y/n" he growls, eyes flashing up to meet yours, dark and intense with lust. "Drench me, y' sweet thing"

With a keening cry, you feel your body burst. Your back archs as your body quakes and shudders, your orgasm washing over you. Joel feels your pussy clench and spasm around his fingers, hot liquid gushing out to coat his hand and drip down his wrist.

Joel's a gentleman, languidly licking and suckling as you ride out of your high. Once your breathing slows, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to clean off your essence. He meets your gaze, eyes hooded with the same hunger as your own.

"Like I said" he praises softly, making your spent cunt throb. "You're too damn sweet, sugar"

You giggle. "You're insane"

He leans in, planting a soft fluttering kiss to your quivering lips.

"Just f' ya'"

There's only one thing left to do. You know. He knows. You both know. But the way he takes in your pause, as if you're going to discover the most powerful secret, makes you believe there is so much more. His expression turns curious at your deliberate choice of aphony.

"Tell me what ya' want now. I could give ya' the world if 's what ya' want"

You avoid his gaze, playing with the collar of his flannel.

"I need you"

He lets out a clipped chuckle. "That I know, dirty one"

You roll your eyes, playfully.

"We're both aware. But it's not that, it's just..."

"Yes?"

"Can I see you, please?"

His eyes meet your expectant ones. His voice is gruff but soft, his desire for you mixing with a hint of vulnerability.

"Y' wanna see me?"

You nod as he gulps harshly, mouth tasting like sand.

"Can I take off your clothes?"

Joel's heart skips a beat again at your request, a mix of desire and vulnerability warring within him. It's too revealing and intimate, but God knows he just wants to give you all you want.

There's a hint of huskiness to his vulnerable voice. Unsure.

"Yeah" a beat. "You can"

You start unbuttoning slowly, licking your lips with eager trembling hands and pupils blown wide. Like a child on Christmas, knowing they're opening what they asked for. What they wanted. What they wrote at the top of their list. Your slow, deliberate unbuttoning has him practically holding his breath.

"Joel..." you bite your lip, removing his final button. Finally. "You're...."

Joel's heart stammers at the sight of your eyes on him, your obvious desire heightening his own. Yet, he avoids your stare as you reveal his bare chest, pose faltering a bit as if his strength succumbs to your hungry stare. He gulps under the intensity gaze, feeling so fucking vulnerable. It shakes him to his core, foreign to all this fuzzy things that make him sick.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, his voice gruff and raw.

"Yeah…?"

"Perfect" you whisper out loud, his whole world crumbling down.

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest tightening with a mix of vulnerability and affection. Despite it, he feels self-conscious.

"Perfect…?" he teases, a hint of a dumb smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah" you hum. "So pretty"

A word that doesn't fit in Joel's world. Feels off-putting. He has never been called such, but once it falls past your lips, coated in adoration, it feels as if it's the only truth ever. His heart skips another beat, body responding to your words.

You can tell he can't believe you're saying those words about him by the hint of disbelief in his eyes.

"Joel"

He lets out a gruff huff in response.

"Look at me"

"Pretty" Joel repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't you believe me?"

Joel's heart skips another beat, the vulnerability growing stronger. He's still not used to hearing compliments about his body by you, by anyone at all. It's making his head spin a little.

He can't quite meet your eyes as he responds.

"Take it easy on me, sweet girl. I ain't exactly in m' prime"

"Joel. Look at me" your voice a little firmer this time.

Joel takes a moment, his heart racing. He can't resist your plea, even if he hates feeling vulnerable. Slowly, he meets your eyes.

His voice is almost quiet. "I'm lookin'"

"Good. Do you want me to know what I'm looking at?" you extend your hand to reach his face, brushing a strand of hair that's fallen to his forehead. "Your greys" then, you tug his bottom lip down, "your lips", you circle the wrinkles around his eyes, "your warm eyes" and afterwards, your fingers dwindle on his nose, "just... all of your face: scars, spots and wrinkles. It leaves me breathless"

Joel's heart races as you speak, your words sinking in. He feels seen, in a way he's rarely felt before. Its messing with his mind.

"You describin' what you seein'?" his voice hoarse with emotion. It sounds far away, as if it didn't belong to him.

His lips part as your hand moves down, grazing his neck and his chest before landing on his belly. The sincerity in your eyes is making him feel even more vulnerable, and Joel can feel himself crumbling under your intense stare and firm hands.

"No, I'm describing what I love"

He looks at you, eyes filled with vulnerability and uncertainty.

"Y/n"

It was like being peeled, layer by layer. He hated how he was built now. Rough. Too sharp around edges. Soft on ones he wished he wasn't.

"All of you"

He chuckles, but it's a defeated dying sound. Almost bitter.

"That's impossible, honey"

"What's impossible is not to love all of you"

He gulps, throat raw but unable to say anything.

"Please. Let me love you"

As if he hadn't already hand you his soul. Swallowed all of your words with a feverish desperation, placed them inside a space that had gone cold with time, now feeling like a warm home where he finally belonged.

"My sweet girl..."

You feel Joel pressing you up against the mattress, his bigger body pinning you in place with a hunger that takes your breath away. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your naked curves with a fevered intensity, a low growl of frustration escaping his lips when you break the kiss to take some air.

"You can do with me anything you want"

Joel's breath stops. With a trembling but sure hand, he reaches out, his calloused fingers skimming over the swell of your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh until your nipples strain against the cloth of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as you feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against your stomach.

Joel leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers.

"Anythin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire as you nod, desperate.

But then, he's laughing, as if pleased with your eagerness. Amused.

"That much? Oh, baby, you that desperate for 'tis ol' man? That bad you want me?"

You whine, at loss for words, the throb too painful to think straight. Joel laughs again, but it's devoid of malice.

"No, don't just nod. I wanna hear you say it, y/n. Wanna hear ya' beg fo' me like the desperate sweet little thin' y'are"

You've never been one for begging, but something about the way he's looking at you, the raw, unbridled hunger in his eyes, makes you want to give him everything he wants and more.

"Please, Joel" you breathe, voice reduced to a needy tremor, "I need you so bad, Joel, please. I need you inside me. I want you filling me, claiming me, in every way possible"

"My sweet girl" he coos, followed by a flurry of heated kisses and desperate groping. You barely have a chance to catch your breath before he's pressing you up with more insistence, his body pinning you in place with a hunger that leaves you desperately aching for more. "S'pretty"

Joel's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, drinking in every inch of your glistening skin. He smirks at the desperation written all over your face, something wicked and tender circling inside his brown eyes.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers huskily. "Ts' it, doll. Keep on beggin'. Lemme hear how much y' need ma' cock 'nside 'tis tight little cunt"

You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily as you feel his fingers slide down to brush against your sensitive clit, a wave of arousal coursing through you.

"Please, please, please, Joel" you whimper, your voice high and needy as you grind yourself shamelessly against his hand. "I'm so wet for you. Please, I'm begging you, make me yours"

He growls. "S'eager, huh? Who would've thought ya' were such'a dirty girl for 'tis ol' dick? Just had ya' bein' all lovey dovey a second ago and now y'are beggin' fo' me to ruin 'tis pretty pussy, baby?"

He quickly sheds what's left of his clothes, revealing to your wide eyes the thick, hard length of his cock, springing free and bobbing heavily against his soft belly. Alright, you had some thoughts about dating a much older man, even if Joel seemed the type of guy to be doted, given his energy. You're glad to be proven wrong in the very best way.

"Fuck, Joel" you breathe, licking your lips as you imagine the taste of him on your tongue. "You're so big"

His cheeks color a pretty pink, sweat beads adorning his forehead. The heat of his body envelopes you like a furnace.

"Now I truly believe ya' like what ya' seein'" he chuckles, "such'a greedy little thing" a beat. "S' fucken hungry for ma' cock. Don't worry, baby. 'M gon' give it to you, nice and slow, until you're screamin' fo' me to let you come"

Joel settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, effectively swallowing your needy whimpers.

"M' gon' take real good care of what's mine" in that southern drawl that drives you crazy. Hungry. Poisoned with a ravenous desire to possess every inch he can reach of your body. For everyone to see. Know. For all the prying stares. Judgeful. To appreciate in secret under the watchful gaze of the weak sunrays that filter through the courtains of his bedroom.

He then leans to take one of your nipples on his mouth, suckling and teasing the rosy peak, lapping the sensitive bud with his tongue, his hand kneading and squeezing the soft flesh of your breast. You arch into his touch, a symphony of moans and whimpers falling from your lips as he works your body.

At the same time, Joel begins to slowly, teasingly push forward, the thick head of his cock parting your slick folds and sinking inch by tortuous inch into your tight heat.

"Joel!" you gasp, your nails sinking down on the soft expanse of his broad back as you take in his girth, walls clenching and fluttering around his size.

Joel's breaths come in harsh pants against your skin as he fights the urge to bury himself to the hilt in one thrust.

"Y'are so fucken tight" he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Don't wanna hurt you, my little fawn. But ya' feel s' good, sweet girl. S' perfect 'round ma' cock."

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, using the leverage to rock your hips up against his, taking him a little deeper with each desperate roll. He's impressed by your hunger, your desire fueling further his consuming own.

"Joel" you mewl, voice breaking with need, "I can take it, please, I promise. I just need all of you, Joel. Please, fuck me hard and deep until I can't think of anything but the feeling of your cock inside of me"

With a feral growl, Joel surrenders to your plea, slamming his hips forward to bury himself to the hilt inside you. A scream that sounds like his name tears from your throat at the sudden, intense sensation of all of him devouring your from inside, your body convulsing with the force of his thrust.

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that shake the bed frame and echo through the room. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with the sounds coming out of your mouths.

"Please, please. I wanna come, please"

Tears well in your eyes at the insistence that rocks your body. Joel's eyes widen, perhaps in surprise, this new and strange, yet, his cock twitching makes this all the more intriguing. Arousing even.

"S' you cryin' over my cock?"

You deny it, but the salty trails have started to pool down your cheeks, your prettu fluttering eyelashes damp. Joel gulps, feeling blood rushing to his cock again.

"Don't worry, little fawn" doesn't know why but his tongue runs across your tear-smeared face, the taste of your damp skin, musk and sweat strong, make his mind go numb. "I think ya' look pretty when ya' cry"

Joel feels your velvet walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock, signaling your coming climax. He doubles his efforts, slamming into you with a wild, primal intensity that steals your breath away.

"That's it, sweet girl" Joel growls, voice ragged with lust as he feels your body tensing beneath him. "Come for me, y/n. I wanna feel you comin' undone on ma' cock, screamin' ma' name as I fill you up nice"

You're a sight to savor in, like basking the first rays of sunlight on the morning. Like his bitter coffee on his favorite mug. But you're sweet on the inside and the outside, he thinks as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing merciless circles over the sensitive nub. Joel is lost on you, he's aware, as he leans down to capture your lips in a consuming kiss. He just wants to have all of you, day and night, body and soul, in and out, because just a taste, and he's gone down the deep saccharine trails of your neck and quivering heart.

Your back arches as the pleasure becomes too intense to bear, your body convulsing uncontrollably as your climax crashes over you. You scream his name, you think, lost in a sea of desperate pleas and incoherent whimpers spilling from your lips.

Joel hilts himself deep inside you as your walls spasm and milk his cock, your release triggering his own, followed by a grunt akin to surrender, perhaps. To you, now fully his. This is the end, he thinks. Now, he's truly yours. God help her, the townsfolk say when you tell them Joel's your man, but when a hoarse shout of your name comes out of his mouth, pulses hot and hard as he grinds against you, you think this is all you need.

Fuck it.

This is what it feels like.

Joel collapses onto you, his bigger softer body blanketing you as he struggles to catch his breath.

"My sweet girl" he coos, peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands roaming over your curves with a gentle, reverent touch. You can feel his heart pounding against your own, when he whispers, voice low and sated. "Mine"

You can't help but laugh in awe. "Yes, Joel. Yours"

He props himself up on his elbows, his brown eyes searching yours with a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on the delicate line of your jaw.

"I know I said I was scared, before. That I've tried to push you 'way. God, y'are stubborn, know that? 'M just glad you ain't a quitter"

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss that makes your heart leap. It tastes bitter like grains and whiskey, but sweet with love and devotion. It's not only a spark between your lips, another of many, but a promise, burning with the same intensity the old coffee pot heats his coffee in the morning.

"Y'are my everything, y/n" your name pronounced like never before. Now ever since.

A heart. A home.

"So are you, Joel" his name in a fervent whisper. Born to be said like a prayer.

And for the first time in so long, Joel Miller feels the same thing he felt when he held Ellie close. I've got you, babygirl.

Hope.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @pedgito / dts: @joelscowgirl ⋆˚✿˖°

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kaiist · 3 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The movie marathon had stretched late into the night. You were sprawled on top of Xavier, your head resting on his chest as the TV cast flickering light across the darkened room. His steady heartbeat had almost lulled you to sleep when you felt his hand shift slightly beneath you.

Smack!

The unexpected slap to your ass made you jolt upright, nearly headbutting his chin in the process.

“Did you forget about earlier?” he asked.

You laughed, settling back against him. “I thought you might have fallen asleep and forgotten.”

“I didn’t,” he replied simply, his hand returning to your backside. This time, he gave it a gentle squeeze, his fingers kneading the spot he’d just slapped. The tender motion contrasted with the playful smack from moments before.

He pulled you closer, adjusting your position against him until you were both comfortable again. The credits rolled on the forgotten movie as his fingers continued their gentle massage, his calm breathing eventually synchronizing with yours as you both drifted toward sleep.

As the auto-play feature started the next film in the queue, his free hand reached for the remote, lowering the volume to a soft background murmur. His other hand never left your backside, alternating between gentle squeezes and soothing circular motions that made you melt further against him.

“Your heartbeat speeds up when I touch you like this,” he observed quietly, the subtle change in his tone betraying his satisfaction at the reaction.

You mumbled something incoherent against his chest, too comfortable to form proper words. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting your weight to better accommodate his frame, his hand continuing its ministrations with practiced ease.

“We should sleep,” he suggested, though his actions contradicted his words as his fingers traced the curve where your ass met your thigh. “Or would you prefer to continue this instead?”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Midnight had come and gone, but sleep remained elusive. It’s another day of Zayne had just returned from his grueling shift at the hospital, his tie loosened and suit jacket discarded as he prepared for bed.

“I need at least six hours of sleep before my morning consultation,” he muttered, setting his alarm.

You poked his side, deliberately disrupting his bedtime routine. “But I’m not tired,” you whined playfully, stealing his pillow and hugging it to your chest.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Return my pillow.”

“Make me,” you challenged with a grin, scooting away.

In one swift motion, he reclaimed his pillow with one hand, while the other delivered a firm smack to your pajama-clad backside.

Smack!

“That’s for being bratty when you know I need rest.” The sting lingered pleasantly as he settled beside you, drawing you against his chest despite your earlier antics.

“Sleep,” he instructed, his arm wrapping around your waist. “I’ll have time for your games tomorrow.”

His breathing soon steadied into the rhythm of sleep, while you remained awake just a little longer, savoring the unexpected gesture from him. Despite his stated exhaustion, his hand remained active, tracing absent patterns along your hip.

He murmured against your hair, seemingly not as close to sleep as you’d thought, “You just have to be difficult before going to sleep.”

You shifted to look at his face, finding his eyes still open. “Someone has to remind the great doctor he’s human,” you replied softly.

His fingers tightened slightly on your hip. “Tomorrow,” he promised, voice dropping to a whisper that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, “I’ll show you exactly how human I can be. Now sleep before I administer more persuasive methods.”

The implied threat only made you smile as you finally closed your eyes, lulled by his steady heartbeat.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“Turn around again,” Rafayel instructed, his eyes focused intently as you modeled the fifth dress he’d purchased for his upcoming exhibition. The silky fabric whispered against your skin as you obliged, turning slowly to give him the full view.

“Perfect,” he murmured, approaching to adjust the way the material draped across your shoulders. “This shade of green complements your skin tone exactly as I imagined.”

As you moved to reach for the next outfit, his hand descended without warning.

Smack!

The slap against your ass echoed in the spacious bedroom, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

“Rafayel!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face him.

He grinned. “I couldn’t resist, cutie. You look really good with the dress on.”

Your initial surprise melted as he pulled you close, his hands wandering dangerously near the spot he’d just slapped.

“The red dress next,” he whispered against your ear, releasing you with obvious reluctance. “Though I’m starting to think my favorite masterpiece isn’t hanging in any gallery.”

He retreated to his chaise lounge, watching appreciatively as you reached for the next dress, the memory of his touch still warming your skin.

“Wait,” he called suddenly. “Do that again—the way you just moved. Hold that position.”

You froze mid-reach, throwing a questioning glance over your shoulder.

“Perfect,” he breathed, grabbing the sketchbook that never seemed to be far from his reach. “The light catches your profile exactly right from this angle.”

You maintained the pose, feeling the spot where he’d slapped you still tingling pleasantly as he sketched, occasionally looking up to capture another detail.

“You know,” he said between strokes of his pencil, “I think I’ve just found the centerpiece for my exhibition.”

“A drawing of my ass?” you asked incredulously.

His laughter filled the room. “No, cutie—though that would certainly draw crowds. I’m thinking of something much more...personal. Now, try on the red dress, but move slowly. Every line of you deserves proper attention.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Rain pattered against the windows of Sylus’s room as you lay on your stomach, engrossed in the latest episode of your favorite show on your tablet. Completely absorbed in the climactic scene, you didn’t notice his approach until it was too late.

Smack!

The sudden, sharp slap to your ass sent your tablet flying from your hands. You yelped in surprise, rolling over to find Sylus standing over you, that infuriating half-smile playing on his lips.

“You look focused, sweetie,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just scared you half to death.

You glared up at him. “I was watching the season finale!”

“And now you’re watching me instead,” he replied, retrieving your tablet from where it had landed on the carpet. He handed it back to you, his fingers lingering against yours. “A considerable upgrade, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before you could respond with the retort forming on your lips, he leaned down, his voice dropping to that low timbre that always made your pulse quicken. “Consider us even. For now.”

He then left you to return to your show—though your focus was thoroughly shattered.

You returned to your previous position. Just as the plot was reaching its climax again, the bed dipped beside you. He had returned, two glasses of wine in hand, offering one to you.

He settled next to you, positioning himself so he could see your tablet screen, his thigh pressing against yours as if nothing unusual had happened between you moments ago. His free hand casually draped across your lower back, dangerously close to where he’d landed the mischievous slap, his fingers casually tapping your ass.

“So,” he said, sipping his wine and gesturing toward your tablet with his glass, “who’s the traitor? The brother or the assistant?”

You blinked in surprise. “You’ve been watching this show?”

His half-smile returned as he made himself more comfortable beside you. “I have my reasons for staying informed about your interests. Now, shall we finish this finale together?”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Steam filled the kitchen as you stirred the pasta sauce, following Caleb’s recipe while he chopped vegetables nearby. The domesticity of the moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, comfortable and familiar.

“Can you pass the oregano?” you asked, gesturing toward the spice rack.

“Sure thing,” he replied, stepping behind you to reach for the herb.

As his hand extended past you toward the rack, his other hand made its move.

Smack!

The slap to your backside was anything but gentle, causing you to drop the wooden spoon into the sauce. Before you could react, he dissolved into laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Your face!” he managed between chuckles, handing you the oregano as promised. “I’ve been waiting all day for the perfect moment.”

“Caleb! You—” You shook your head as you accepted the spice—and the fate of your ass. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before returning to his chopping board. “Dinner might be worth the wait, if you don’t let that sauce burn.”

You turned back to the stove as his laughter continued to fill the warm kitchen.

His laughter gradually subsided, but the atmosphere remained light as you both continued preparing dinner. Every time he passed behind you to reach for another ingredient or utensil, you tensed slightly in anticipation, unsure if another playful slap might be coming.

“Relax,” he teased, noticing your reaction. “I already got my revenge. Unless...” he paused dramatically, “you’re hoping for an encore?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress your smile. “Just focus on those vegetables before I decide it’s my turn for revenge.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with an exaggerated salute, his grin never faltering. He resumed his chopping, occasionally humming a cheerful tune that matched his buoyant mood.

Smack!

“Just for fun, Pipsqueak,” he grinned unapologetically.

Okay… so… I kinda accidentally deleted the whole page of my Google Docs when I reached Sylus’s part, and I was just sitting there, like—😀💔 So, I had to write everything all over again in a bad mood 😭 I hope you still enjoy reading! ಡ⁠͜⁠⁠ʖ⁠⁠ಡ

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a-hermit-pining · 2 months ago

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LaDs Men React to You Being Whipped for Them

AN: Is it love, if not bound by subtle insanity?

Pairing: LaDs x GN Reader

Emily Bronte (Wuthering Heights): “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

Yearning Event

Xavier:

"Sit," you say, practically shoving him onto the bed. "Sleep. On time. For once."

You tuck him in with a look that brooks no argument. "You're going nowhere tonight. I don't care if the world ends. It can wait until morning."

Xavier blinks up at you from under the blanket, wide-eyed. He never imagined he'd live to see the day someone forced him to sleep. He slept plenty as is, but this? This was different.

You lean in, palm cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over his pout. "Not sleepy?" you ask, voice soft, lips close.

And then the little gremlin bites your finger. Gently. But still. His eyes glimmer. "Can't sleep," he whispers. "Not tired enough."

He gives you the look. You know the one.

You’re not sure if you want to fight him or kiss him breathless. Possibly both.

Rafayel:

He knows you’re whipped. And he lives for it.

This? This is his dream come true. You, hovering with tissues and cough drops. You, his personal bodyguard, ready to throw hands at anyone who so much as sneezes in his direction.

He flashes smug little smiles at everyone who sees you fuss over him. Sips his tea like royalty. Winks like the menace he is.

Cue: entire exhibition crowd watching you dig through your bag for lozenges because his voice might sound hoarse.

He’s a sucker for love, but terrified to be the first one to say it. So when you pour your heart out first?

He’s free. Free to adore you with all the softness he’s hidden for years. Free to give back everything he’s been aching to share.

He’ll never say it, but this kind of love? This saves him.

Zayne:

He doesn’t know what to do with this. Not at first.

You bring him lunch at work. Spend weeks researching ways to break the curse. Kiss every scar like it’s sacred.

Everyone around you sees it. The way you’re gently, beautifully spoiling him. And they love it. They love this for him.

And slowly… so does he.

At first, he’s confused. Then touched. Then quite overwhelmed.

Because he’s never had this before. Not like this. Not so deliberate. So quietly certain. But over time, it settles in his chest like warmth. Like a memory he never had but always wanted. Like home.

And when he finally learns how to return it. When he stops being afraid of breaking it... oh, gods. You’ll drown in it.

Because Zayne doesn’t love in halves. He just never thought he was allowed to have this.

Sylus:

He’s supposed to be the suave one. The smooth-talker. The charm incarnate. The planner. The tease.

But your easy, unrelenting affection? It undoes him.

“What next?” he asks, leaning down to tilt your chin up. “You going to complain next? ‘Sylus, why can’t you ever plan anything in advance?’” He mocks your voice with a grin, cocky and effortless.

But your smile doesn’t waver. You just wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Like you always have.

“No,” you murmur. “I think it’s an excellent idea to take a vacation. Thanks for planning, Sylus.” You say his name so gently. So sure. Then kiss him with painstaking care.

And he’s stunned. Just… still. A blush creeping in. Throat tight. Something in his chest cracks open.

“Well,” he says, voice lower now. No teasing this time, just a quiet, genuine warmth. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Gods help him. You’re too good at this.

Caleb:

You’re both the problem. The gooey couple that makes strangers jealous and your kids roll their eyes.

Your love is obnoxiously mutual. Like something ripped from a bard’s over-the-top romance ballad. And he lives for it.

He’s jealous by nature. Territorial. But with you? He has never felt more safe. You never give him reason to doubt. Never make him feel like he’s too much.

To be cared for so deeply, to be someone’s center of gravity, it heals something ancient in him. It’s the love he didn’t know he was allowed to have. And gods, he guards it with everything he is.

Because in your eyes? He’s not a colonel. Not a soldier. Not a weapon. He’s just Caleb. And he is so, so loved.

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happy74827 · 11 months ago

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Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

8K notes · View notes

chuluoyi · 6 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍

- sylus x reader

when your husband went away without so much as a proper notice, you thought you wouldn't forgive him so easily. but he tries everything to capture your heart back: spoiling and indulging you… little do you know that he expects a reward in return

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—rotten fluff, domestic bliss, explicit smut, cunnilingus, fingering, mating press, taking elements from sylus' card night of secrecy, secret times approaching dusk and spoilers! from myth beyond cloudfall

note: my first sylus x mc fic! with this i'm spreading the soft!sylus agenda and that spicy 4-star approaching dusk has destroyed me :') loosely based on this post

Sometimes, you do wonder... does Sylus really think you're that easy to placate?

On one chilly morning, you woke up only to discover your hunk of a husband gone... and in his side of the bed, a sticky note.

Your eyebrow twitched as you read the audacious message scrawled on it:

Hey, kitten. I need to leave for a few days. There are things I have to handle on my own. Take care of yourself while I’m away. I’ll come back soon.

That was it. No clear explanation, no further details. Just those vague words in such short notice. The day before, he’d seemed like his usual self, not a hint of this sudden departure in sight.

It irked you. It made your heart clench at the same time. Because even after marrying you, Sylus remained elusive, playing his cryptic games. It was beyond you how he didn't even stop to consider how you were left worrying about him while he drifted in and out of his dangerous world without a second thought.

You understood the reality of your lives—that you were a hunter and he was the Onychinus leader, and that to be with him meant you had to walk that fine gray line between light and dark.

And you'd already made your choice. You had accepted it—accepted him—wholly. Even when your marriage had been a rushed affair and registered under false names to protect both your identities.

Things couldn't go on like this. You had to teach him a lesson too.

As your irritation simmered into determination, a devious plan began to take shape in your mind—a way to spite him just enough to make your point crystal clear.

Two days later

Sylus was done with his dirty business faster than he thought, and to appease you, he had come bearing gifts.

The precious little thing that is now his wife, of course he missed you too. But your safety was a price he wasn’t willing to gamble. If going away to take care of those pests meant your peace would be unperturbed, then he would leave without hesitation.

However, as he stepped inside the base, his relief quickly turned to unease. The space was eerily empty, the usual hum of activity conspicuously absent.

Normally, you’d be at the center of some commotion, locked in a spat with either Mephisto, or Luke and Kieran. But now—

“What do we do?! She’s gone!”

Sylus immediately rushed to the source of the ruckus, thinking something bad had happened to you. He found his henchmen standing in a tight, anxious circle around the coffee table.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Without a word, they stepped aside, revealing the object of their concern: a single note lying on the table.

He snatched it up, scanning the words. Then, he let out a sharp exhale of relief, a smirk began tugging at the corners of his lips.

Catch me if you can.

Typical. Absolutely typical. And maddeningly you.

. . .

That night, you had a very strange dream, it felt almost felt like stepping into the pages of an ancient tale.

You were a fallen princess wrongfully accused as a sorceress, who began consorting with the fearsome fiend from the Abyss.

The sorceress and her dragon. Together, you were an infamous pair, a dark legend whispered across generations. Your union had ignited Doomsday itself... and yet, amidst the turmoil and destruction, the sorceress fell in love with the dragon... deeply and irrevocably.

The dragon, in turn, was utterly bewitched by his little witch. He indulged your every whim, no matter how mischievous or perilous, and though he rarely spoke of his true feelings, he always found ways to show his affection.

The lucid dream felt as though it might go on forever, but you were pulled from it by the soft brush of lips against your forehead. The warmth lingered, blurring the lines between dream and reality, until your eyes fluttered open.

“Sylus...?” His features, fresh from your dream, now materialized in your reality. It took you a few seconds to realize that he had come here—

“Morning, sweetie.” His voice was rich and smooth, with that familiar, mischievous edge. A smirk curled on his devilishly handsome face as he leaned in, garnet eyes gleaming with playful intent. “Caught you now, hmm?”

The haze of sleep vanished in an instant, and you were suddenly wide awake. In a flurry, you shoved him away and turned your back on him, trying to regain some semblance of control.

You’d left the N109 Zone for one of his safehouses in suburban Chansia City, thinking it would take him some effort to track you down. Clearly, you’d underestimated him.

“Oh. The kitten is in a bad mood, it seems.” Sylus’ gaze lingered on you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do I owe the ire for?”

“...”

“Silent treatment, huh? The lady of the house is getting better at our little games while I was away.”

“...”

“Remember, sweetie, there’s no divorce in our relationship, hmm? If you’re tired of me, keep taking naps.”

You felt the weight shift as he rose from the bed and stalked away. The door clicked shut, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You wanted to resent him for coming and going on his terms, for never offering even an apology. Yet, no matter how much you tried, a part of you remained hopelessly tethered to him. The part that couldn’t ignore the reminder of the dragon from your dream—captivating, powerful, and infuriatingly hard to resist.

You love him, really you do.

. . .

When you didn’t come down for breakfast some time later, Sylus barged into the room once again, and this time he came up with a different approach.

“My lady,” he began, his voice sickeningly low and sweet, but his eyes gleamed with a touch of mischief. “You haven’t had breakfast yet. Please come down.”

You shot him a look, unamused, and decided to play his game as you crossed your arms together. “What if I don't want to?”

His smirk only grew, his tone dripping with mock formality. “And what must I do to change your mind?”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice his persistence. He had chased you here, given you more time to sleep in, and now stood before you to get you to eat. You felt your resolve beginning to soften—maybe just a little.

“Carry me there,” you said with a hint of defiance, lifting your chin high, daring him to follow through.

Sylus tilted his head, failing to restrain his snort. “As you wish, my lady.”

He placed his arms around you effortlessly, one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you into a flawless princess carry. You instinctively put your arms around his neck, and he turned to you.

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off a sharp retort, but before you could, he dived in—

Smooch!

—and planted a bold, wet kiss on your lips. You, wide-eyed, punched his chest in retaliation. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. “Careful now, sweetie. Wiggle too much, and you’ll fall.”

He carried you downstairs, effortlessly navigating each step with you still in his arms. Once there, he gently set you down onto the dining chair, and that was when you noticed the table.

Salad, slightly burnt toast, scrambled eggs, milk—simple dishes by all means, but the thought the big, bad Sylus making them?

Wait. When you arrived last night, this place was a dusty shell, and the refrigerator had practically nothing—

“You cleaned the place?” you asked, your tone laced with surprise as your turned from the spotless room to him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why is that so surprising? I can cook and clean just like everyone else.”

It sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He’d prepared food and cleaned the place knowing you’d be hungry and uncomfortable with dust all around.

You huffed, trying to hide how your heart fluttered. “No, your cooking skills are questionable at best.”

As if to prove you wrong, Sylus disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a tray of warm, freshly baked dough that filled the room with a heavenly aroma.

“You are... baking?” You approached him, mystified at the sight of your husband, who usually at the scene of crime, behind the counter and started frosting the cupcakes.

He set the frosting bag down and picked up a cupcake, holding it to your lips with a teasing smile. “Here. Open up.”

Dutifully, you nibbled on the cupcake, and the sweetness immediately spread into your mouth. “It's tasty,” you mumbled, blinking at him. His eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he gestured toward the tray.

“Go have some more.”

Grinning, you grabbed another cupcake and eagerly took a bite. Munching away, you missed how Sylus’ gaze softened, his bright red eyes focused solely on you.

He couldn't resist pinching your full cheeks at that moment.

“Sy-wus!” you protested, glaring at him. His laughter broke free that instant, warm and unrestrained.

Utterly funny, utterly precious—that’s what you were to him.

Indignant, you scooped up some icing from the cupcake and smeared it right across his face. The stunned look he gave you was priceless, and before he could react, you burst into a fit of giggles and bolted out of the kitchen.

But as you reached the base of the stairs, a strong arm caught your waist from behind, halting your escape. You squealed in surprise, “Noooo!”

Sylus leaned closer and pressed you to his chest, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Ha. Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

He lifted you up with one arm and brought you back to the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and trapping you in place with his arms braced on either side. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he leaned in, and with a grin, he bumped his frosting-smeared nose against yours, leaving a sticky smudge.

“This is unfair!” you protested, still caught in a fit of giggles as you looped your arms around his neck for balance. Sylus chuckled along with you, his gaze steady and warm, never leaving yours.

Being with Sylus in the kitchen like this, savoring simple meals and smearing each other with frosting, it made you realize that you craved this domestic bliss more than you thought.

As the laughter subsided and you both settled into the quiet, your expression softened, all your previous grievances forgotten. The tenderness in your eyes said everything you didn’t need words for, and Sylus could see it clearly—you adored him, just as much as he adored you.

The one who gazed into his jewel-like eyes, embraced his burning soul and sang to him in the night wind... is once again in his arms. A part of him was almost sentimental at the thought.

Instinctively, he closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. But as they were about to meet, he paused, as if hesitating, leaving you puzzled.

Then, without a second thought—

To hell with it.

You chose to abandon all senses. You seized the moment—yanking him to you and capturing his lips, claiming him for yourself.

“…!” Suck, suck, bite, suck— You were relentless, and you didn't really know why. At first, even he was taken aback, but then his hand slipped behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in an intoxicating rhythm.

“Mmm...” You sneakily began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one, your fingertips grazing his warm skin with each deliberate motion. Feeling it, Sylus broke the kiss just enough to smirk, his voice husky. “Getting bold, aren’t we?”

But before you could respond, his hands trailed down your sides, firmly pulling you closer, leaving no space between the two of you. His gaze burned with desire, as if daring you to keep going.

Then, without warning, his lips began their descent, grazing your jaw softly before trailing down to your neck and chest, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers across your skin. The feeling was intoxicating, even as his hair tickled you, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Ahh,” you couldn’t help but sigh, pressing him closer.

His lips left wet marks on your neck, and he whispered, “Now tell me... what made you so upset that you left home?”

When you didn't answer right away, one of his hand slid beneath your blouse, unhooking your bra and grazed your skin—

“You... keep coming and going as you please...” you stammered, feeling him begin to cup and squeeze your breasts, your breath growing erratic.

Sylus bit down on the skin at the nape of your neck, and you almost gasped.

“It's almost as if— Mmm—” The way he fondled your chest made the space between your legs grow warmer. “—you wouldn’t... miss m-me at all...”

How untrue. He stopped his ministrations, and the steel behind those eyes you loved so much met your gaze once again.

His wife was a mess of sweat already. He swiftly hooked your thighs around his waist and claimed your lips once more. With effortless movement, Sylus guided you to the long recliner in the room, laying you down there, still lost in the heat of the kiss. His hand intertwined with yours, pinning you to the soft surface.

“So...” he rasped, breathless against your lips, “You’re upset that I didn't miss you when I was away...”

His other hand worked to unzip your skirt. “But don’t you know? I... was worried about my wife getting into trouble when I wasn’t with her too... That’s why I was in a hurry to go home...”

Sylus pulled away, both of you panting for air, and he took a moment to savor the sight of your glazed eyes.

“But then I couldn't find her anywhere.” His voice was low and taunting, trailing his fingers on your belly. “I made it back as soon as I could, just like I told you and you are the one who misbehaved... Don’t you think I deserve something as a compensation?”

It took you three solid seconds to realize that the lower half of your body was now exposed. Your husband parted your legs and settled his face between them, pressing a kiss on your knee.

“So I believe at the very least... I deserve this.”

He dived straight for your clit then and you let out a loud gasp.

“Ngh! Aaah...!” You let out incoherent moans as he devoured your folds, lost in the cloudy haze of pleasure. It didn’t take long to unravel you at all.

“Mmnh—!” Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. Ticklish, hot, wet— all in all, it felt like a sin, but you just had to get this heavenly taste. “…a-ah!”

Sylus felt how you were this close to get your orgasm, so he moved faster, licking and sucking your clit, while adding a couple of fingers to bring you to the peak faster. You unconsciously moved your hips against his face— too far gone to be thinking anything else, grasping the leather of the sofa and pulling his hair—

“Ahh— S-Sylus!” And then you came hard, screaming his name, feeling how much it was— were you squirting?

You didn't know, didn't care either, as it was the sight of his ruby eyes that grounded you. You were spent, spread on the sofa (most probably ruined it, even), your chest heaving to catch your breath.

Sylus let out a low rumble as he wiped your juices off his lips with a thumb and tasted it, looking so sinfully sexy like a forbidden fruit while at it.

“You said... I wouldn't miss you.” He traced one finger on your face with such tenderness. “Now, I'm going to show you, and you'll be judge of it. Are you sure you don't want me to stop?”

If you said no, he would comply. That was the kind of person he was and you knew it. Sylus had always looked out for you since the very beginning, no matter how nonchalant he made himself to be.

“No.” You met his eyes, your voice steady. “Show me.”

It was the only affirmation he needed. He began unbuckling his belt and pants, keeping his unclouded gaze on yours, and soon he too was bare before you.

He was thick and long, and while you had taken him many times, it was never fully easy to ease the intrusion. His tip was already slick with precum, and he spread it along his length.

“You know the rule,” he murmured with a meaningful smile. “If it becomes too much, you scream, and I'll stop.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, sliding in slowly. The sharpness of the stretch seeped into you bit by bit, and you couldn't help but groan.

“—!” A sharp hiss escaped you as he fully sheathed himself inside, hitting that sensitive spot. Had your eyes deceived you, or was there a slightly noticeable bulge in your belly from where he was?

Sylus seemed to notice it too, but he folded your knees, spreading you further. His gaze intense and filled with something deep, something possessive. The room seemed to narrow, your entire focus consumed by him as he settled in close.

“Eyes on me, kitten.” He gave you a smile, and with that, he started pounding you—

“Ah, hah, ahhh!” You couldn't stop moaning beneath him as he thrusted into you. The feeling of him so deep inside, coupled with the way you tightened around him, sent waves of blind pleasure through you.

Sylus’ eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he watched you squirm under him. Your skin glistened with the heat of the moment, and the sound of your breaths, frantic and needy, filled the room. His control slipped, just a little, as he pushed deeper, his movements faster, chasing the release that quickly building within both of you.

A pretty mess, his wife is. Your face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain as he bred you, and he swore, of everything he had gone through, this look in your face was always worth it.

“Sylus—!” you almost wailed, nails digging into his back, and he growled, knowing full-well that he was finally losing it.

Just like that he shot his cum straight to your womb, his own body shuddering, thoroughly rutting into you. You cried, tears falling from your lashes as you too reached your climax.

Full, too full... Yet you knew that you wouldn't have it another way.

. . .

It felt warm and comforting.

Your eyes fluttered open hours later, and the first thing you noticed was Sylus' sleeping face, and that you were now in the bedroom.

He looked so vulnerable like this. You couldn’t help but be drawn to how serene and unguarded he was, a side of him that only you got to see. Even in his sleep, his arms were wrapped around your waist, as if to protect you from anything that might disturb your rest.

Your lover... and then husband. He was rough around the edges, sometimes didn't make any sense at all, and often reckless enough to burn himself playing with fire.

“You sly crow…” You gazed at his profile, still in awe that this elusive man was your husband.

Sylus was easy to read sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at your earlier doubts about him. How could you not see just how deeply he was attached to you?

Just like the inseparable pair of dragon and sorceress in your dream, you knew you’d stay by his side until the very end.

Out of a playful surge of affection, you tapped his nose, and he grunted softly but didn’t wake, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, seeking more of your warmth. It was cute, how he was so worn out that he sought comfort in your embrace.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead then, vowing with everything you had that you’d never let him go, and that with him by your side, you would definitely made this life you shared a happy one.

Several weeks later...

“Thank you, miss!”

The boy bowed his head with a wide grin as soon as you handed him the red pocket money for Linkon New Year. You waved at him, smiling warmly as he skipped away, clutching the envelope in his hands.

The festive occasion inspired you to pay a visit to a nearby orphanage, driven by a desire to share more of the joy and blessings. You brought small gifts and red envelopes, hoping to bring a little light to the children’s lives and make the celebration even more meaningful for them.

Of course, Sylus tagged along too. He was the benefactor, after all.

“Sir, thank you for your generosity.” The headmistress approached Sylus, who looked effortlessly sharp in his red suit, and gave his hand a shake. “The children are really happy with the cupcakes and pocket money.”

He merely chuckled and pointed at you with his chin. “Thank her, my wife is the one with the idea.”

You joined the conversation shortly after, and it didn’t take long for the topic to shift from the orphanage to your personal lives.

“So, do the two of you have plans to start a family soon?” the headmistress asked, her tone warm and curious. “Both of you are still young, and you're so good with kids. Having children of your own might bring even more joy into your lives.”

You mustered a polite laugh, the words to gracefully deflect her comment forming on your lips, when—

“Soon,” Sylus interjected smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. “Very soon, in fact.”

You blinked at him, startled by his bold declaration, while the headmistress’s face lit up with approval. You nudged him discreetly.

As soon as the headmistress went on her way, you turned to him with a frown. “Why would you tell her that?”

Your gaze met his, clear and utterly clueless. Sylus snorted, so tempted to pinch your cheeks, but settling instead for a tender pat on your head.

“You'll see soon enough, sweetie,” he replied, his tone laced with playful mystery.

Epilogue

It was the dead of night when a sudden wave of nausea overtook you. Stumbling out of bed, you rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching up the contents of your stomach.

Your body trembled as you stood, dizziness threatening to topple you. Leaning heavily on the sink for support, you rinsed your mouth, trying to steady yourself. The effort left you shivering, your legs almost buckling beneath you.

Before you could even comprehend the blur in your vision, a pair of strong arms got a hold over you. “S-Sylus...?” you murmured faintly.

Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms securely as he carried you back to the bedroom, his expression shadowed with concern.

As he settled you onto the bed, he held you close, pressing your face against his bare chest that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt. “Take deep breaths,” he urged softly, his voice grounding you.

You inhaled shakily, letting the familiar warmth of his scent calm your frayed nerves. Slowly, your breathing steadied, though the nausea still lingered in the back of your throat.

“Is it the first time?” he questioned, smoothing your hair. “Have you thrown up before?”

You shook your head. “No... I get dizzy spells but that's it... This is the first time.”

Nausea, dizziness, vomiting. It wasn't hard to piece together what it was. Amidst your dazed thoughts, the realization hit you, and you turned to your husband almost in wonder. “Sylus... a-am I...?”

Sylus broke into a smirk, ruffling your hair. “Told you. I know your period is late.”

Your heart skipped a beat—and it was the only thing you could hear in that moment. The thought that a baby would enter your lives left you briefly speechless.

“Yeah, at the rate we're going, it’s like we’re bunnies,” you quipped sullenly, trying to regain a sense of control as you leaned into his broad chest.

You really thought he would poke fun at you for your highly possible pregnancy, but instead you were taken aback when he pressed a fond, lingering kiss to the side of your head. His arms tightened around you, his soft chuckle reverberating through his chest.

And when you found his gaze again, his jewel-like eyes softened into such an extent that made your heart soar.

“Well, aren’t I the luckiest man— having this fair lady be the mother of my child?”

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