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ilovolderman · 2 months ago

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Friday Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You end up sitting next to Bucky in a casual team dinner.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, flirting, light language, water war (because who can resist a splash battle?)

A/N: this is part 4 of "You Said What?", just some fluff in a universe where you and Bucky secretly date. It can be read on its own and doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3. im loving writing about these two so thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It’s one of those rare nights at the compound, no missions, no briefings, no surprise alien invasions. Just a Friday. Just dinner. And, somehow, Steve decided it’d be nice if the whole team ate together like one big weird family.

The long table is already half full when you show up a few minutes late, sliding into the only empty seat left, next to Bucky, obviously by coincidence. Totally random. Totally not planned. Totally a miracle.

“Hey,” you murmur, your knee bumping his under the table. You don’t move it.

“Hey,” he says back, low and warm, like it’s just for you. His knee nudges yours in return, the tiniest pressure that somehow makes your chest feel full.

Dinner is loud. Sam’s in the middle of a dramatic story involving a rooftop and a rogue pizza slice, gesturing so wildly he nearly knocks over his drink twice. Wanda is laughing so hard she’s wheezing. Clint and Natasha are arguing about spice levels in the curry. Tony ordered five different desserts “just in case,” and even Vision looks mildly amused.

It’s chaotic. It’s weirdly cozy. And it’s perfect.

Meanwhile, Bucky quietly slides the breadbasket your way before you even ask. Passes you a napkin when you drop yours. Leans over and murmurs a dumb joke under his breath just to make you laugh. And when you both reach for the same dish, your fingers brush—and linger. Neither of you moves.

You glance at him. He’s already looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all night.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, biting your lip.

“Like what?” he asks, faking innocence.

“Like you’re thinking about kissing me at a table full of Avengers.”

He leans in, voice low. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your breath catches. You blink, trying not to let it show. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t kick you under this table.”

“I’d still kiss you.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks. “Yeah. But I’m your problem.”

You’re in the middle of pretending to care about Steve and Nat’s back-and-forth on training strategies when your phone buzzes in your lap.

[bucky]: come to the kitchen. 5 mins. say you forgot the hot sauce.

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. He sees it and smiles with just one side of his mouth.

A few minutes later, you slide your chair back, muttering something about needing Sriracha. No one blinks. They're all too busy arguing over which dessert to try first.

You slip into the kitchen.

And there he is. Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes already on you. Like he wasn’t just sitting beside you five minutes ago.

“I’m starting to think I’m more addicted to seeing you than caffeine,” he says, that soft smile tugging at his lips.

You walk right into his arms. He smells like clean laundry and something you can’t place—something that’s just him.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“Tell that to Sam,” he mutters. “He said I’ve been grumpy all week. I was just missing this.”

His fingers brush your cheek, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. You lean up and kiss him—quick, soft, sweet. The kind of kiss that says I wish we had more time.

And then you steal another.

And another.

He groans, resting his forehead against yours. “Okay. One more, and then I’m walking back in there like nothing happened.”

You smirk. “You have lipstick on your mouth.”

“Dammit.”

When you both return, the table’s still buzzing, still full of warmth and noise and people who feel like home. Bucky catches your eye as you pass him the dessert like it’s nothing.

But you know. And he knows. And your heart is doing somersaults when Bucky leans in again.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your lip.”

You freeze. Glance at him, wary. “Do I?”

He nods solemnly and you wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Better?”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Not really. Might need to check later.”

You kick him under the table.

Dinner winds down slowly, plates are half-empty, dessert is more whipped cream than anything else, and everyone’s full in that way that makes you too lazy to move.

Tony’s talking about building a pizza oven on the roof. Clint is inexplicably napping in his chair. Wanda’s stealing bites off Sam’s plate while pretending not to. And you?

Your face hurts from smiling, your stomach’s full, but you still offer to clean up.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you say, already sliding your chair back.

A second later, Bucky glances your way. “I’ll help.”

“Seriously?” Sam teases. “Since when do you volunteer?”

“Since now,” Bucky says coolly, already following you into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, but your heart is racing.

The kitchen is quieter than the dining room, where the others are still laughing, picking at desserts, arguing over who cheated in charades last week. In here, it’s just you, the soft clink of dishes, and Bucky—close behind you.

You roll up your sleeves and start running the water, pretending your hands aren’t slightly shaking. “You don’t actually have to help, you know.”

“I know,” he says, leaning a hip against the counter beside you. “But I want to.”

You glance at him sidelong. “You hate doing dishes.”

He shrugs. “I’ve done worse.”

You snort, handing him a dish towel. The two of you fall into a rhythm quiet, easy. You wash, he dries. Occasionally your arms brush, and each time it’s like a tiny electric pulse zips up your spine. You tell yourself not to overthink it. You fail.

“You were quiet at dinner,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of lasagna like it personally offended you. “Well. Except for all the flirting.”

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is low. “I like watching everyone like that. Laughing. Being...normal.” He pauses. “I like watching you.”

You freeze, dish half-submerged in sudsy water. Slowly, you turn to look at him. “That supposed to be smooth?”

He grins, shameless. “Did it work?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because he’s looking at you again—that way he does, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and worse, that he means every bit of it. Your heart is somewhere in your throat.

“Bucky,” you say, unsure what comes next.

But then he sets the dish towel down. Steps a little closer. And when you don’t move he reaches up and brushes a wet strand of hair from your cheek.

“You gonna kick me under the sink,” he murmurs, “or are you finally gonna let me kiss you?”

Your breath catches. “There are at least three Avengers in earshot.”

“Then I’ll be quick.”

And he is. But somehow it still feels slow, like the whole world holds its breath for you, just for this. It’s not desperate. It’s not showy. It’s just real. When he pulls back, you blink up at him, dazed. “You call that quick?”

He grins, a little smug. “Told you I’ve done worse.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too. “You missed a spot,” you say, tossing him a still-dripping plate.

He catches it one-handed, totally unfazed. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You bump your hip into his, reaching for a fresh towel. “I tolerate it.”

There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “You know, I kinda like this.”

“The dishes?”

“No. This.” He gestures between you. “You. Me. Elbow-deep in soap. Feels… nice.”

You reach over and flick a bubble at him.

He blinks, deadpan. “Did you just—”

You do it again, giggling. He retaliates by flicking water at your face. You shriek. He laughs.

“What, you can handle HYDRA but not a splash of water?” he teases.

You grab the sprayer.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I dare.”

There’s a short-lived, extremely wet battle that ends with Bucky shielding himself with a dish towel and you both breathless from laughter, leaning against the counter like you’ve run a marathon.

“I think we’re officially banned from post-dinner cleanup now,” you say, still giggling.

“Worth it.”

There’s a pause. He looks at you, hair a little damp, cheeks pink from laughing. And then he leans in again, just because he can. Just because you’re both still smiling.

When he pulls back, he murmurs, “Think we can sneak off to dry off somewhere quieter?”

You grin. “Only if you promise not to start a water war in the hallway.”

“No promises.” But you link your pinky with his anyway.

And that’s when it happens. A very deliberate throat-clear from the doorway. You both freeze like guilty teenagers. Natasha’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, one brow raised like she’s watching a soap opera. “You two done playing splashy-splash, or should I get you floaties?”

Bucky groans softly, his head thudding against the cabinet door behind him. You try to hide behind the dish towel. It doesn’t work.

Natasha steps further into the room, clearly savoring this. “Didn’t know dishwashing came with a swim option.”

“We were just—” you start.

“—cleaning,” Bucky finishes, not even trying to sound convincing.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, giving you both the kind of look that could peel paint. “You know, for two people trying so hard to look casual, you’re not very good at it.”

Before you can respond, there’s a loud clink from the doorway. Steve steps in, completely unbothered. Holding a slice of pie on a plate like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Is everything okay here?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she shoots you one last look, a knowing glint in her eye. “Alright, alright. Carry on with your... dishes.” She turns, heading toward the door, but not before adding with a teasing smile, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Steve watches her leave, clearly lost in his pie-induced bliss. “What’s her deal?”

You and Bucky exchange an amused look before Bucky mutters, “You really don’t want to know.”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, probably not.”

And just like that, the moment passes. Natasha's suspicion lingers in the air for only a second longer before Steve’s back to his pie, you’re back to drying dishes, and Bucky’s smile is a little too smug for anyone’s good.

next part

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marvelstoriesepic · 18 days ago

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Steam and Silhouettes

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Summary: While trying to take a shower, Bucky comes barging into your shared bathroom, claiming Alpine misses her new mama.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: mild nudity (non-sexual); mutual pining; suggestive humor; domestic fluff; Alpine being Alpine; Bucky being a ridiculous dork

Author’s Note: This is a part of a series with a loose timeline, but you can also read this as a standalone. Hope you enjoy ♡

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“Oh my god, Bucky, get out!”

Your voice resounds off the steamed-up tiles, somewhere between scandalized and entirely unconvincing. A squeak of the shower curtain rings as it trembles slightly, your poor attempt at pretending this isn’t the weirdest and most you moment of your life as Bucky Barnes’ roommate.

“Relax, doll. She missed you.”

You peek through the waterfall of hot water stinging your eyes, blinking furiously, heart lurching somewhere high into your throat.

A shadow casts on the shower curtain. A tall figure with broad shoulders and the boldest audacity, backlit by the bathroom light.

And perched high on his forearm, just barely bobbing into view over the shower curtain, is a tiny white paw. Then another. Then two crystalline blue eyes.

You sputter a wet laugh, nearly choking on a mouthful of water. “Buck! Did you seriously bring Alpine in here?”

The kitten meows. Sweet, high-pitched, held up by Bucky’s arms, peering over your goddamn shower curtain as though she’s Simba in The Lion King.

Your heart is hammering.

Not because of Alpine.

But because Bucky Barnes is standing just on the other side of the plastic barrier, mere inches away, and you’re stark naked, and your feelings are very much not platonic, and your brain is officially trying to outrun you.

Bucky sounds way too casual about the whole thing. “She was cryin’ outside the door. Thought maybe she just needed to see her mama.”

Huffing, you push your wet hair out of your face, the weight of it slick and heavy down your back. “She’s a baby, Bucky. Babies cry. Doesn’t mean you come walking into the bathroom while someone’s taking a shower.”

Bucky holds her up with both arms, the way someone might offer a sacred relic or a bottle of wine. His bare forearms flex slightly, and you hate that, even though he’s holding an adorably sweet and fluffy white kitten, Bucky is still somehow distracting.

“But she was cryin’, doll,” he says, now softer. “Wouldn’t let up. Climbed up my pants. Clawed her way up like I was a tree.”

“Seriously?”

“Swear on Steve’s good name. Wouldn’t stop till I picked her up. That’s how I figured she missed her mama.”

Your heart stutters. That stupid word again. Mama.

“Bucky, get out,” you only repeat exaggerated.

“You left the door unlocked,” he shoots back through the veil of hot air, all indignant as though he’s the one being violated.

You make a strangled noise, rubbing your temples, breathing through your nose, trying to remember that you do like him most days. You chose to live with this idiot. You’ve lived with him for a while now. You’ve survived him accidentally setting a potholder on fire, singing 90s power ballads at 2 am, and alphabetizing your spices just to mess with you.

“That’s not an invitation to come in here like a psycho and lift our kitten over the curtain to watch me shower.”

There’s a rustle on the other side. The shuffle of his feet on the tile. “But she was sad, doll. Missed you. Thought maybe you abandoned her for good.”

“She saw me ten minutes ago,” you state with a sigh in your voice, turning to rinse shampoo out of your hair.

“Well.” You see his shadow shrug behind the curtain, adjusting Alpine’s wiggly butt in his hands. “Ten minutes is like a week to a baby. You ever gone a week without your favorite person? It’s tragic.”

The words trip something in your chest. You hear the slight quirk of his mouth in his voice, as though maybe he knows what he is doing. As though this isn’t entirely about Alpine.

Alpine mews again, that high-pitched kitten sound like a squeak toy dipped in sugar, and Bucky chuckles, soft and low and affectionate in a way that makes your knees threaten to buckle.

Her tiny nose twitches, eyes wide, paws scrabbling at the edge of the curtain as Bucky still keeps holding her aloft like a proud, ridiculous cat dad.

You sigh, one hand on your face, the other holding the curtain in a defensive scrunch. “I’m still naked, Barnes.”

There’s a pause. Like a thoughtful, huh kind of pause. You hear him shuffle on the tile. As though he only just caught up with that part. As though he hadn’t really thought this through beyond the cat misses you and you probably miss the cat and maybe, just maybe, I wanted to see you too.

“I mean, technically she’s naked too,” he deadpans after a beat.

You let your forehead thunk gently against the tile wall, groaning into the rising steam.

“And she’s a girl, y’know. So… girl to girl. Girl solidarity. Ain’t weird,” he adds helpfully, as though this might somehow serve as a legal defense in court.

“She’s also two pounds and can’t even use a litter box without falling in,” you hiss back.

“Details.”

You sigh, slumping back under the spray and dragging your hands down your face. Soap hangs off your eyelashes. Alpine meows, a chirpy sound, as if she’s telling you to be nice to your ridiculous roommate.

“She says she didn’t get a real goodbye,” he says, voice low and a little sing-songy as though he knows he is pushing your buttons and is committing to the bit anyway. “Her little heart’s broken now. Might never recover.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the snort that leaves your lips. God, you’re so in love with him it’s embarrassing. Your heart feels like a paper lantern too close to the flame.

Alpine meows again, tiny paws curling over the curtain as she cranes her neck to spot you better, big blue eyes wide with wonder, as though you are the best thing she’s ever seen.

And Bucky is holding her so gently he might have spent the last ten minutes convincing her that yes, mama still exists and no, she didn’t disappear, and yes, you can go look at her now.

Reaching out, you poke your hand over the curtain, water dripping from your fingers as you scratch softly at Alpine’s chin.

“There you are, baby,” you utter amused but soft. “You’re such a drama queen.”

Bucky chuckles, deep and low, but there is something fragile under it. His hand - still holding the kitten - brushes yours for a second and he stays still.

You can see the shadow of his boots from under the curtain, the soft shuffle of his weight shifting, but not moving toward the door like a normal person would do after realizing they’ve invaded your steamy sanctuary of suds and sanity.

Then, you lean out. Just your head. Damp hair dripping, chin tucked, eyes narrowed as you peek past the edge of the curtain like a very cautious ghost.

And there he is.

Standing. Holding Alpine as though she’s the goddamn crown jewel. But his hands have stilled on her fur, mid-stroke, and his face is softened, startled. As though he just remembered something he wasn’t supposed to forget.

Then his gaze flicks - unintentionally, just a tick - toward the vague silhouette of your body behind the curtain. His breath hitches. Just slightly. And then his ears go red.

His eyes do an awkward flutter toward the ceiling, toward the tiles, toward Alpine, anywhere but toward the slice of your face. He looks like a man trying not to glance at a solar eclipse without sunglasses.

“You good?” you ask, dry as bone, drops of water landing on the edge of the shower.

He clears his throat. “Uh. Yeah. Just gonna let you finish up. I, uh- think Alpine’s satisfied now,” he says, one hand coming up to scratch behind the kitten's ear. She purrs lazily, utterly unaware that she has single-handedly plunged her two favorite humans into an emotional fever dream.

You bite back a smirk. “Sure she is.”

“I didn’t see anything, obviously,” he goes on, still looking at literally anything other than you. “Not that I was tryin’ to. Not that there was anything to see- I mean- that’s not how I- I meant, that you- Fuck, now I’m makin’ it weird. Which is not what I meant. I mean- it’s not bad, just- Jesus Christ.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. Not because it’s funny - though it is funny - but because there is something in your chest threatening to melt. Something painfully weak. The kind of thing you don’t want to touch too hard in case it turns real and runs away.

“Right. Great,” he mutters. A pause. “I’m gonna take her out,” he adds, finally lowering Alpine down to the little mat beside the door. She immediately tries to climb his pant leg again.

You tilt your head.

“You sure? She might still want to see her mama.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, well, her mama deserves a shower in peace without bein’ ogled. Just thought she’d calm down if she saw ya. You can resume whatever mysterious shower rituals you do in there.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, it’s called cleaning myself, Barnes.”

He huffs a laugh. “Alright, alright. I’m goin’. Don’t yell at me in front of the kid.”

“She’s a cat.”

“She’s sensitive.”

You shouldn’t be this warm. It’s not the water anymore. It’s something else creeping under your skin, behind your ribs. You want to say something. Want to reach out and grab his shirt and pull him in - not into the shower, not like that, not yet. Just into your space. Into the same space you’ve been for a while now. Waiting.

But you’re also very wet. And very naked. And this isn’t exactly the moment you want him to remember for the rest of his life when he thinks of your first real step forward. If he even believes you could take such a step.

So instead, you smile, shake your head. “Get outta here, Barnes. I’ll be out in five.”

He lifts his eyes at you, long enough to catch your expression. And even though you’re barely there - just your head, framed in fog and water and shampoo suds - he smiles. Something tender glimmers in his eyes. Maybe he’s already counting down those five minutes.

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Take your time,” he says, voice gone quiet now.

And it’s soft. Not teasing. As though maybe this wasn’t as embarrassing as he thought it would be. Maybe he’s not entirely sorry.

Your face does something treasonous. Your heart does something worse.

With a clear of his throat, his hand takes hold of the doorknob, opening it a crack. Alpine trots out of the bathroom, tail swishing, entirely pleased with herself. He watches her for a beat. Then stares at a tile. Lingers. Then looks back at you. His eyes snap quickly to your body shielded by the curtain, and fly away instantly, as though he caught himself in the last moment. “Alright, I’ll give you some privacy,” he utters, voice a little raspy. “Gotta go now. Gotta go learn about boundaries or somethin’.”

And then he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him.

You’re standing there dripping, heart pounding for reasons that have less to do with steam and everything to do with him.

He’s got that effect on you. Even when he’s being a ridiculous dork. Especially when he’s being a ridiculous dork.

The door cracks open again.

“Oh my god, Buck-” you begin to protest, but he interrupts you quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just-” Bucky calls out, soft, voice low as though he’s trying not to scare a bird. “Uh, I was thinkin’. You want takeout?”

One hand freezes mid-reach for your body lotion, the other still braced against the curtain. You didn’t expect him to ask that.

“Thought maybe you’d be hungry,” he explains, as though it’s the most reasonable thing in the world to have a food conference while you’re still literally naked and trying to have some privacy. “I’ll order. You take your time in there. By the time you’re all… y’know-” You see his shadow gesture at you behind the curtain, “human again, it’ll be here.”

You laugh. It kind of bursts out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Human again?”

“Well, you’re half-shampoo, half-grump right now,” he says with a smirk you can hear. “Didn’t wanna assume you were ready to talk logistics until you de-soaped.”

You don’t know what to say. So you sigh and wait for him to leave.

But he lingers.

You peek your head around the curtain again, water droplets trailing down your temple like punctuation marks to your raised eyebrows. “Barnes.”

His eyes flick up. Instantly. And then down. Instantly-er.

“Oh,” he blurts, practically recoiling, sheepishly running his hand down his face. “Still- uh- yep. Still naked. Right. Shit.”

“You literally knew that going in the first time. And now you did it again,” you deadpan, grinning at how fast he suddenly backs away again.

“I wasn’t- I mean, I still didn’t see anything, not that I was looking. Or trying to look. I just thought- well, Alpine was done sniffin’ the rug and I figured maybe food- ya know what? Never mind.”

The door squeaks.

“Bucky,” you call just before it closes again.

He pauses. Leans back with only half his face showing - one hand gripping the edge of the frame as though it might keep him tethered.

You soften. You can’t help it. “Takeout sounds good.”

He smiles, small and crooked and pleased, and god help you, it tugs at something in your chest that makes you want to sit down and cry for no reason at all.

“Got it, sweetheart.” His voice is warm again. Familiar. “I’ll get the usual. You just… take your time. Wash the world off.”

You nod. And he’s gone again.

You hear his footsteps pad down the hallway.

With a sigh that’s 60% fondness, 30% embarrassment, and 10% utter, unrelenting this man, you lean back into the steam, your heart performing some frantic dance in your chest.

Outside, Alpine lets out a mewl that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

“You don’t accidentally end up sharing a life.”

- Erin Hahn

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raevalyntine · 16 days ago

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what happens when sylus meets your possessive boy cat for the first time?

(sylus x reader) humour, fluff, possessive and petty sylus, suggestive

It started with you dragging Sylus to the grocery store.

He had shown up that morning in a dark maroon button-down with the sleeves rolled up, hair perfectly tousled, ready to whisk you off somewhere expensive and mood-lit. But when you met him at the door with a shopping list and a cheerful smile, he blinked at the paper in your hands like you’d just handed him an arrest warrant.

“You’re telling me,” he drawled, arms crossing as he leaned against the doorway, “that instead of letting me take you on a proper date, you want me to follow you around a fluorescent-lit store while we argue about produce?”

“Yes,” you grinned, pressing the list to his chest. “Consider it a bonding experience.”

He sighed. “Kitten, you know I could get all this delivered. Snap of my fingers. Why suffer?”

But you just grabbed his hand and brushed your thumb along his knuckles. “Because I want to do it with you.”

He stared at you for a long second, then let out that deep, rich laugh that you love so much under his breath, kissed your temple, and let you tug him along. “Alright, sweetie. Anything you want.”

Hours later, you finally stepped into your apartment, grocery bags in hand and the scent of fresh bakery bread trailing behind you.

Sylus followed in behind, setting down a few bags with a sigh. “That was not romantic,” he muttered, brushing away a rogue piece of lettuce from his shirt. “An old lady threw a head of lettuce at me. Why was I not aware that grocery shopping was equivalent to war?”

“It’s discount day today, she’s just doing what’s right,” you said, hiding your smile as you unpacked the fridge items. Sylus chuckled and was already helping you organise the groceries into their respective shelves. You shooed him away after a while, telling him to rest (you didn’t want him to mess up your organisation system).

As Sylus wandered into your home, he took in everything as if he were seeing your place for the first time. Sylus had technically been here before, but back then it had been late, the lights were off, and your front door had barely closed before things turned into a blur of kisses and discarded clothes. But now? Now he was really seeing it. The sun touched everything like it was showing off: your plants, your quirky fridge magnets, the soft pillows arranged just how you liked them. Sylus was quiet as he looked around. Reverent, almost. Like he was memorising it.

He ran a hand along your bookshelf. Paused by the photos on your console. Touched the mug with your chipped initials. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Once the last can of soup was stacked and you’d wiped your hands on a towel, you called out, “Sylus—here.” You offered him a glass of water. He took it, his fingers brushing over yours just a little longer than necessary, then set it aside after a sip.

And that’s when you noticed the shift.

He stepped in closer. One hand came to rest beside your hip on the counter. Then the other. And just like that, he’d caged you in–his arms on either side, his tall frame looming close, dark eyes simmering with something slower, warmer. His body heat pressed in, his eyes dark and glinting.

“I was very patient today,” he murmured, voice low, lips brushing your ear.

“Barely,” you whispered back, trying not to smile.

He leaned in, grazing your jaw with his mouth, his tone slipping into a dangerous purr. “You know,” he murmured, voice velvet-smooth, his breath fanning over your jaw, “I behaved all day. Didn’t cause trouble. Didn’t threaten anyone. Didn’t even bite you in the spice aisle. I deserve something sweet now, don’t I?”

Your breath caught.

Then he kissed you. Deep, slow, curling warmth that stole the air from your lungs and made your fingers tighten in his shirt. The kiss grew hotter, his hand finding your waist, yours sliding up his chest. His body pressed against yours, caging you between him and the counter.

His hands were slowly tugging the waistband of your jeans when—

THUMP.

Something heavy collided with Sylus’s feet.

“Wh–What the?!”

Startled, he stumbled back a step. His shoulder bumped the cabinet. Staring up at him with the rage of a thousand suns was a massive, fluffy orange cat. Tail puffed like a warning flare, blue eyes narrowed in betrayal. The cat let out a low, judgmental mrroooww and hissed at Sylus.

Sylus blinked in confusion and shock as you bit back a laugh. Sylus turned his gaze towards you, but you were already leaning down, your voice sweet as you called the cat over, “Hi Pumpkin, come here.”

Immediately, the snarling little menace transformed into a puddle of affection. He padded over like a lovesick marshmallow, weaving through your legs and purring so hard it vibrated the floor.

Sylus stared in disbelief.

You crouched to scoop him up, and Pumpkin climbed willingly into your arms, nuzzling his head under your chin. He made a little chirrup noise, then reached forward and gently booped his nose against yours.

“I missed you, baby.” You muttered as you nuzzled your face into Pumpkin’s fur.

Sylus gaped. “He tried to kill me and you’re rewarding him?”

You just smiled. “He’s just protective.”

Pumpkin blinked at Sylus from the safety of your arms, smug and purring like a motorcycle.

Sylus narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t the jealous type—really, he wasn’t—but something in his chest was rumbling. Maybe it was his dragon instincts. Maybe it was the sheer audacity of that cat. It’s fine. It’s not like that little terror–Pumpkin was it? –would do much. He’ll just take the hisses and glares and ignore it, like the calm and composed man he is. Right?

It started small.

You were sitting on the couch, Pumpkin curled on your lap as Sylus went to sit besides you. Sylus gestured vaguely toward the cat, then to you. “Wait, sweetie. How have I never seen him before? This is not a small animal. He looks like he could eat three sets of Mephistos.”

“He was at the vet,” you explained, stroking between Pumpkin’s ears. “Check-up. He stayed overnight for observation.”

“Ah.” Sylus narrowed his eyes. “So I didn’t dream this demon into existence.”

You shook your head, cheeks warming. “Nope. Very real. Just… not around that night.”

There was a beat of silence before Sylus smirked, his tone turning deliberately low. “Right. That night.”

You stiffened slightly, cheeks flaring redder. Sylus stepped closer again, his smirk deepening as he leaned in just enough to brush a knuckle under your chin.

“That night…” Sylus echoed, voice thick with amusement. “The one where we didn’t even make it past your hallway. You were practically tearing my shirt off, kitten.” Your face flushed instantly, and you looked away, flustered. Sylus grinned, closing the distance, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

He didn’t get any further.

A low growl interrupted the moment.

Pumpkin—who had apparently been napping with one eye open—shot up, tail flicking, pupils dilated. Sylus instinctively backed off just as the orange menace prepared to pounce.

“Down, soldier,” he muttered under his breath.

You scooped Pumpkin into your arms just in time, cooing softly, “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”

Sylus’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You're comforting him?”

You pressed a kiss to Pumpkin’s furry head, entirely unbothered. “He gets jumpy when he senses a threat.” Sylus narrowed his eyes. “I’m the threat?”

Pumpkin blinked slowly at him, clearly unrepentant. Sylus scoffed. “Unbelievable. I’ve fought trained assassins who were more welcoming.”

There were more moments like that. Too many, in Sylus’s opinion.

He’d try to slide his arms around you while you cooked—nothing scandalous, just a soft back hug, maybe a kiss to your neck—and BAM. Pumpkin appeared, claws out and hissing like a snake. During dinner, Sylus brushed his fingers along your thigh under the table, only for a furry missile to launch itself between you, knocking over a water glass in the process.

Movie night? Forget it. Sylus would settle in beside you, finally thinking he’d earned a moment of peace, only for Pumpkin to leap up, stare him dead in the eyes, and then physically wedge his fluffy body between you two with the weight and determination of a Wanderer. Hell, a Wanderer was easier to handle than this.

Sylus was patient. Until he decided he’d had enough.

It was the end of the night, you were headed to bed, and he was right behind you like a man on a mission. The moment you stepped into the bedroom, Sylus kicked the door shut and locked it with such speed and finality, you almost laughed—until you saw the look in his eyes. Dark. Heated. Done with being polite.

As you crawled under the sheets, he joined you instantly, curling around you like he belonged there. His hand rested on your waist, fingers flexing slightly as he inhaled your scent. Soft, warm, yours. All the missed opportunities from the day simmered to the surface. Every time he’d reached for you, only to be clawed or glared at by a fuzzy orange menace.

His lips brushed the back of your neck. “Now,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “where were we?”

His mouth found your skin again, trailing hot, slow kisses down your shoulder. You shivered, your breath catching—

And then.

“MRRRROWWWW!”

A banshee wail echoed through the apartment. Followed by frantic pawing. Sharp. Desperate. Unrelenting. Like someone was trying to break into the room with pure willpower and toe beans.

Sylus cursed under his breath. You sighed and offered a sheepish smile as you turned your head over your shoulder. “Pumpkin always sleeps on the bed…”

Sylus stared at you, slack-jawed, like you’d just told him that you were going to break up with him.

“Of course he does,” he said flatly, rolling onto his back and dragging a hand down his face. “Of course he wants to sleep in this bed with you.”

There was another insistent thump against the door. You giggled as you slipped out of bed to open the door. Pumpkin strutted in like a king returning to his throne, hopped up, and promptly curled between the two of you. Sylus stared at him, utterly betrayed. “…This is war.”

As you slept soundly with Pumpkin curled up with you, Sylus was seething. He wasn’t going to lose you to a thirty-pound fluffball with abandonment issues and a superiority complex. Not like this.

Something had to be done.

And that’s how, one week later, your bedroom door slammed open and Sylus marched in like a man possessed—carrying a sleek, regal-looking Bengal cat in a luxury pet carrier.

You blinked. “Sylus… what is that?”

He set the carrier down like it was sacred cargo, his voice resolute. “Your cat declared war. I’m giving him… a distraction.”

Sylus had brought a girlfriend for your cat.

And that’s also how, later that night, with Pumpkin and his newlady friend preoccupied in the living room—curious meows and soft purring barely audible through the closed door—you finally ended up exactly where Sylus wanted you: writhing under him, his name a breathless chant on your lips.

The cats purred. But in your bedroom, Sylus growled—low and possessive—as he claimed every inch of you, reminding you who’d truly won tonight—one heated kiss, one desperate moan at a time.

His lips trailed fire down your neck, his hands greedy with every inch of you he’d been denied for far too long. The bedroom was dim, warm, breathless.

Outside, the cats got acquainted.

Inside, Sylus made sure you only remembered his name.

His mouth brushed your ear, voice like velvet and fire.

“No more interruptions, kitten. Tonight, you’re mine—every. last. inch.”

#l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus fluff #sylus lads #lads #sylus x y/n #sylus x you #sylus x mc #qin che

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ikeromantic · 5 hours ago

Text

Maeda Meet Cute

A Keiji Maeda red thread of fate story for @scruffymctee for the occasion of her birthday ^_^ Featuring her lovely OC Tomoyo. Approx 2000 words of modern AU fate, love, and kisses!

Keiji wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. It was a warm day, bright sun and a hint of a breeze. Shame, he thought, to spend it working like this. But needs must. He pulled his sweat-soaked shirt off and hung it off one of the bare planks jutting from the side of the building.

"Showing off again, boss?" One of the guys shouted from his spot up on the scaffolding.

"Always," Keiji laughed. He kept a smile on his face for the crew. All day, every day. In work like this, morale meant everything. Happy men made for better workers. Besides, his misery was his own. They didn't need to know. "Besides, it's hot," he added. "I can't believe it's only May!"

"Be a rough summer," the guy agreed.

"Now stop watching me and pay attention to the damn crane," he shouted up at the workers. The building project Keiji managed was scheduled to complete in August. It was a beast of a job, but worth it, if they could make the deadline. He felt fairly confident they would. No matter what kind of failure his family thought him, he had a good reputation in the industry. He was the guy you hired when your building had to be done by a certain date, within budget. Keiji hadn't failed a project yet, and wasn't about to start.

He might never be famous, but damn if he wasn't going to be the most successful construction company in the country. The crew he'd built, his network of suppliers and contacts, his reputation . . . it would all . . . Keiji's thoughts scattered as an odd tingling swept over his skin. He felt as if a cool breeze kissed his bare chest and back, raising the hairs on his arms.

Keiji glanced around, wondering if anyone else on his crew felt the same. If they did, their faces didn't betray it. He bent back to work, but the sensation persisted. Keiji kept looking up, distracted and a little confused. That was when he spotted her.

She was gorgeous. Long dark hair pulled into a loose braid over her shoulder, eyes that flashed emerald green in the afternoon sun. Lips as red and sweet as ripe pomegranate seeds. Her curves were hardly concealed by the playful sundress she wore. The woman was lounging beside a drink cart. Her fingers were curled around the neck of a glass bottle, little droplets of condensation glittered on her skin from the cold drink.

Her eyes met his as she lifted the drink to her lips, and never in his life had he wished to be a bottle more than at that moment. There was something irrepressibly sensual about her that made his face hot and sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. He grinned at her and winked.

The woman smiled back. Then, she let her eyes travel up and down Keiji's body. He could feel her gaze, as if she were trailing her fingers along his chest and the fly of his jeans. Keiji licked his lips, feeling suddenly exposed.

"Looks like you've got an admirer, boss," one of his crew commented with a chuckle.

"Something like that." Keiji cleared his throat, trying to bring himself back to the moment. So what if a beautiful woman gave him a once-over. It wasn't like this was a first. It meant nothing. He pulled himself away, turning back toward the building. He could still feel her eyes on him, that phantom touch caressing his shoulders and the small of his back.

Keiji tried to ignore the sensation, even as it drew him toward her in a way he could not explain. His eyes travelled over the work site, avoiding the woman, checking the safety measures as his crew began one of the more dangerous parts of their job. Hoisting structural supports to the upper floors.

"Hey, watch that I-beam!" Keiji shouted up at the crane operator. Several tons of steel swung up over the scaffolding, titling precariously. The area beneath the hoist was clear, but the crane cables were swinging more than he liked.

"We got this," his crane operator called back. The prediction came a moment too soon. A sudden gust of wind at the top of the structure made the beam swing out wildly. The heavy steel tore free of the crane cables and tilted, first one direction, then another. Its shadow careened over the ground, predicting all the places it might come crashing down.

This wasn't the first time Keiji saw such a mishap. As the I-beam slipped free of the last restraint, he saw where it would land. Atop the woman, who was still watching him. Her expression betrayed not a hint of dismay. Keiji didn't pause to shout a purposeless warning. He lunged toward her, knocking her out of the path of the falling steel. His body twisted to protect her from the hard asphalt and concrete beneath them.

The world shook for a moment as the I-beam landed with a deafening crash. Keiji and the woman were only inches away, lying half on the sidewalk, half on the street. The remains of her sweet soda slowly soaked into Keiji's jeans. He barely noticed. His full attention was on the woman.

He could smell her, a scent unlike any perfume. It was warm and summery, with just a hint of cinnamon spice beneath. Her hair tickled his face where it had come loose from the braid. She fit against him as if they were molded together. The curves and hollows of her body pressed into his own perfectly. Though she was safe now, he found himself reluctant to let go. "You should watch where you're standing, princess," he murmured, trying to play his reaction off as something other than attraction.

"Maybe you should watch where you drop your things." She arched a brow, unphased by the near miss and the intimate contact. Her nails trailed lightly down the outside of his upper arm. "Somebody might get hurt," she added, her lips curling in a slight, playful smile as if she'd made a joke.

"You could have been," he retorted, feeling all out of sorts. His heart was pounding harder now than it had been when he leapt for her. Somehow, the idea of this stranger being injured set a panic in him.

The woman gave a slight shrug. "I knew I'd be alright."

Keiji couldn't help but grin, though it was out of exasperation as much as amusement. "So you just expect random people to jump to your rescue?"

"Nope. Just you." She nibbled her lower lip for a heartbeat, as if considering whether or not to say more. "I just knew you wouldn't let me get hurt. It's weird but . . ." Her gaze fixed on his. "I feel like I know you?"

Though she spoke the words with a questioning lilt, Keiji knew it wasn't a question. He felt it too. Down to his bones. He didn't even know her name but holding her like this felt natural. Like he'd been doing it his whole life. "Yeah."

People were crowding around now, and he knew he should let go. Help her up. Check the damage to the beam and the worksite. But he couldn't bear to let go. Not yet. "What's your name?"

"Tomoyo." She smiled. "And you are?"

"Keiji. Keiji Maeda."

She repeated his name, savoring the syllables. "We should probably get up," the woman added. She made no move to follow through.

There were sirens in the distance, coming closer with every breath. In no time at all, he'd need to be looked at by emergency services, and begin the unpleasant task of getting the work back on track. "Tomoyo." He liked the way her name sounded, liked the flicker of heat in her eyes when he said it. "Can I get your number?"

Tomoyo grinned. "Only if I get yours too."

Only then did Keiji stand, still cradling her to his chest. He set her on her feet and released one arm, though the other still curled gently around her back. "You ok?"

"Yes." She had a smile he could only call challenging. "Thanks for saving me, Keiji."

He was going to toss out some half sarcastic, witty reply, but before he could, she lifted onto her tiptoes and brushed the lightest of kisses to his lips. His mind emptied of everything but her. The feel of her, the sweetness of her lips. The faint taste of strawberry from her drink, and Tomoyo, even sweeter beneath that.

Keiji wanted to crush her to him, to kiss her breathless. To carry her off like some romance novel hero, to make love in a mountaintop castle worthy of a woman like her. He wanted to drown in her passion. To make her say his name, to moan it, while he buried himself in her. Keiji had never wanted anything so much as he wanted more of Tomoyo. But the emergency services were pulling up and the world was already breaking into this moment between them. Pulling them apart. Asserting the bald, sharp face of reality against the pleasure-dream.

He let go. She stepped back. The two of them were swarmed a moment later, phone numbers forgotten in the panic of the aftermath. Medical services checked them over, along with anyone else in the accident's general area. The construction crew poured out of the worksite, hemming and hawing about the crane and the wind and what to do next.

There was so much to worry about, so much to do. Keiji tried to catch sight of Tomoyo through the throng, but couldn't find her. His body ached for her closeness. Absurd, he thought. But true nonetheless. It was as if a string tied tight around his heart, and every moment away from her it drew tighter.

Then, with no warning she was there, pushing something into his hand. Her satin-soft fingertips pressing against his calloused palm. A shred of paper. "Call me," she mouthed. And then she was gone again.

"To hell with that." Keiji stood from the spot the medics left him. He pushed past his crew and the emergency responders. "Tomoyo," he shouted. "Tomoyo!" Keiji spotted her sundress, her graceful limbs, the now-tangled sway of her braid. He ran toward her.

Tomoyo turned as he closed in. "Keiji?"

"I don't want to call you," he admitted. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, and he reached out to take her hands. "I don't want to be that far from you."

She blinked up at him, confused. "I don't understand."

"Come home with me? Or let me come with you? I'm-" Keiji paused, not sure if he should admit more. They barely knew each other, after all. But in for a penny, in for a pound. "I'm not ready to let you out of my sight. Not now, when I've just found you."

A smile slowly lifted the corners of her lips. "Bold of you, Keiji Maeda. What would you do if I said no?"

He knew she wouldn't. Not with that heat simmering in those jade green eyes. "I'd have to find a way to convince you."

Tomoyo laughed. "Is that so? And how would you convince me?"

"I could sing? Dance?" He dropped to his knees. "I could beg."

"Or you could kiss me," she counter-offered.

"Or that," he agreed, pulling her down to him. His lips met hers and this time it was no light brush. Her lips parted with a gasp as his arms went around her, hands tangling in her dress. His tongue teased past those sweet candy-red lips and into the sacred mystery beyond. Tasting, toying, exploring her. And she kissed him back, every bit as hungry for more of him as he was for her.

Keiji wanted to keep his eyes on her, but the feeling was too overwhelming. His body felt as if it was on fire, as if his heart was ready to burst. His eyes closed, flickers of light forming in the darkness behind his eyelids. The light was green as emeralds. Green as jade. Green as the color of Tomoyo's eyes. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse, the flutter of their shared breath.

He stood, lifting her up as he did. Breaking the kiss to call back to his workers. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Tomoyo gave them a cheeky wave as they left to the sound of joyful laughter and confused questions. Between them, there was no confusion. There was only an undeniable connection. A thread woven between them, unbreakable, and drawing tighter every moment. Keiji was afraid to use the word love, but he didn't need to think it, to say it, to know it was true. In time, it would come of its own accord, admitting with a breath what they both felt.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen au #ikesen Keiji #keiji maeda #red thread of fate #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff and light spice

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reilemon · 5 months ago

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Return To You

♡︎ synopsis: You rely on Sylus to keep you warm on a winter getaway.

♡︎pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, oral (female receiving), love making (for a change)

♡︎ word count: 6.1k

♡︎ a/n: some cute holiday fluff for @hesperisms 💕✨

♡︎ Not beta read, but I'm still giving a shoutout to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎.

divider by @anitalenia

The town square looks like a winter wonderland straight out of a postcard. Fairy lights shimmer like little stars from every tree, their warm glow reflected on the thin snowy blanket and salt-covered cobblestones. The air carries the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts, caramel apples, and spiced mulled wine – the aromas making your mouth water with every step as you lead, or better yet, drag Sylus towards the ice rink. You’d been eyeing the rink all night, and now, with only a handful of skaters, it’s the perfect time to venture out.

You turn to Sylus who is dressed impeccably, as always, his coat tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders. You can’t help but smile at his rosy cheeks and nose, the color from the winter air making him look less intimidating. Though, he still stands out in this festive setting.

"You’ve been indulging me all day," you say, leaning closer to him, pulling his focus back to you. "I think it’s time to try something fun together."

He raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking in a small, amused smirk. "And your idea of fun is strapping blades to our feet and risking broken bones?"

You laugh. "C’mon, it’s almost empty!" You nod towards the skate rental stand. “Let’s go and get our skates!”

"Our?" he repeats. "I’m more than happy to watch you make a spectacle of yourself while I stay safely on solid ground."

You pout, crossing your arms over your winter coat. "That’s not fair. I’m not good at this, and I need someone strong to keep me upright."

Sylus doesn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze shifting back to the ice rink, then to you, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Don’t tell me you’ve never ice-skated before," you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

"I didn’t say that," he replies smoothly. "I’m simply saying I prefer to observe."

"That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re bad at it," you counter and playfully nudge his side with your elbow. "Please, Sylus? It’ll be fun. I promise not to let go of your hand."

His mouth opens as if to argue, but your wide-eyed, pleading look stops him. He exhales slowly, a puff of mist curling in the air between you, and shakes his head with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Fine," he mutters. "But if I fall, you’re to blame."

You beam at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the skate rental stand. "Deal! But I’m warning you now—I’m terrible at this, so we might both fall."

As the cheerful attendant hands over your skates, you glance up at Sylus.

"Thank you," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

"Don’t thank me yet," he replies, as he looks at the skates. "Let’s see if we survive this first."

As you step onto the rink, Sylus’ grip on your hand tightens, the grip of his gloved hand firm and his presence reassuring against the slippery unpredictability of the ice. He steps further, leading you slowly with him. His fitness and natural grace give him an edge, but you can tell by the slight furrow in his brow that he’s carefully adjusting to the sensation of skating.

"You need to keep your knees slightly bent," Sylus instructs as he glances down at you wobbling by his side.

You giggle nervously, your free hand flailing slightly for balance. "Easier said than done! This is harder than I remember."

He watches you with a mixture of amusement and focus as you take a cautious step forward. "Relax. Lean forward slightly— I know you can do it."

Following his instructions, you do as you’re told, feeling a little more stable as you start to glide, although slowly. Sylus moves alongside you, his strides smooth and confident now, his hand never letting go of yours.

"You’re a natural," you tease, grinning up at him.

"Hardly," he replies with a small smirk. "But at least one of us needs to stay upright."

The sound of your laughter fills the crisp air as you grow bolder, gliding a little faster, though your feet still wobble occasionally. Sylus keeps up with you effortlessly, his focus shifting between your movements and the icy terrain ahead. At one point, as you make a sharper turn, your skate catches slightly, making you stumble. Before you can hit the ice, Sylus’ arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you close.

"Careful, kitten." he murmurs, as he steadies you.

You laugh, your cheeks flushed from the cold and him. "Thank you. You’re like my personal safety net."

Sylus’ lips twitch in a faint smile, but he says nothing, his hand lingering on your waist for a moment longer before he releases you. Feeling emboldened after a few minutes of smooth gliding, you try to add a little twist, lifting your arms and attempting a small spin. The move immediately throws you off balance, and before you can topple over, Sylus catches you again, his grip firm but careful.

"No spins," he says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.

"But—"

"You’re going to hurt yourself," he interrupts. Even though he is serious, you can see that he’s amused by your confidence in your skills.

You pout playfully. "Fine. But only if you promise we’ll come back for more ice-skating dates until I can spin."

Sylus sighs, the mist leaving his lips with the faint smile. "Fine. We’ll come back. But only if you promise not to try anything reckless again."

"Deal," you say brightly, grabbing his hand again as you continue gliding across the ice.

Though Sylus was reluctant at first, he finds that skating isn’t so bad as he watches you enjoy yourself. The cold air bites at your cheeks, your laughter echoing in the winter night, and for a brief moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you on the shimmering ice.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

After leaving the ice rink, a little flushed and breathless, Sylus leads you through the bustling rows of stalls. He buys you your favorite candy, while he picks out some odd, colorful confections for himself—strange mix of flavors that you wouldn’t have dared to try, but he seems intrigued.

As you stroll further, your eyes catch on a vibrant display of oversized plushies at a game stall. A particularly cute dragon plushie catches your attention, its soft fabric shimmering slightly under the lights. You figure that this is a good time to regain some dignity you lost on the ice. You step up to the booth, pay the attendant, and pick up the air rifle. The attendant’s jaw practically drops as you shoot all the targets effortlessly, and Sylus’ admiration shines evident as he watches you from the side.

“Is there any space left in your apartment for more toys?” he remarks as you hug the plushie to your chest.

You shrug with a self-satisfied smile. “If not, I’ll just bring some to you.”

He chuckles, slipping his hand into yours as you continue walking through the festive town, the dragon plushie tucked snugly under your arm.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Back at the cozy lodge, you push the door open, greeted by the warmth and the comforting scent of cedar and cinnamon. Sylus steps in behind you, his arms carrying bags of candies, trinkets, and wrapped gifts you’d picked out for your friends back home. You set your dragon plushie on the couch, fluffing its wings a little before turning to help him organize everything. He puts down a bottle of on the kitchen counter and you find the small bundle of herbs you’d picked out. After setting everything down, you feel the weight of the day in your limbs. Your arms and thighs ache from all the skating and carrying bags, but it’s almost a satisfying buzz in your muscles.

Sylus turns to you, tilting his head slightly. “You’re slowing down,” he says.

“I’m not slowing down,” you protest, but a yawn betrays you. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Come on,” he says, motioning toward the hallway. “Let’s clean up. The bathtub’s big enough to fit both of us.”

You glance at him, but he’s already on his way to the bathroom, so you follow behind, almost giddy at the thought of a relaxing bath.

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

He adjusts the temperature in the shower while you start to light candles around the room. Steam begins to fill the air, carrying the faint scent of the bath salts you placed by the tub. Stripping down, you step into the shower together. The warm spray cascades over your skin, washing away the remnants of the day’s adventures.

Once clean, you both step out and towel off. Sylus moves to the bathtub, sprinkling the bath salts into the hot water, the scent rising as he swirls the water with his hand, testing the temperature.

“Perfect,” he murmurs and takes your hand in his, helping you step into the tub first.

A relieved sigh leaves your lips as the hot water envelops you, the salts already working their magic on your tired muscles. Sylus follows, settling in across from you his broad shoulders just visible above the water’s shimmering surface. His silver hair clings to his forehead in damp strands, and his gaze is softened by the dim light as he takes in the sight of you.

You let out a long sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean your head back against the bath pillow. “Well,” you mumble, “goodnight.”

A low, amused chuckle rumbles from his chest. Without a word, his leg nudges yours under the water, his foot brushing lightly against your calf, making your eyes flick open and look at him in mock annoyance.

“You can’t fall asleep here,” he says with a grin tugging at his lips.

You grin back, letting your toes nudge his shin in retaliation. “I wouldn’t. There’s hardly any room for my legs anyway, with yours taking up all the space.”

Sylus shifts slightly, the movement causing ripples across the water’s surface, as he lifts a hand and gestures toward you.

"Come here." he says, his voice low.

Your heart skips a beat at the invitation, but you don’t hesitate. Shifting forward, you move carefully through the water, as you settle in the space between his legs. He reaches up, his hands brushing lightly against your shoulders, and the weight of them is reassuring, grounding.

“Would you like a massage?” he asks, his breath warm against your damp neck.

“Yes, please,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands begin to move, firm but gentle at the same time, starting at the curve of your shoulders. His thumbs press into the tense muscles there, working out knots you didn’t realize were still lingering from the day. A sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. His hands slide down, from your shoulders to your arms, taking a moment to squeeze gently at the tension in your biceps before moves on the muscles of your upper back. Every touch melts away the strain of the evening. The water sways gently around you both, the soft ripples lapping against your skin.

“You’re easy to please,” he murmurs, a faint smile audible in his tone.

“Not true,” you counter, though the words lack conviction “Okay, maybe a little true.”

“You’re good at this,” you admit, your voice drowsy from the combination of his touch and the heat of the bath. His hands move to the back of your neck, his thumbs pressing into just the right spot to make you exhale deeply.

“I know. I have good hands.” he replies with amusement in his tone.

You laugh softly, letting your head rest against his chest for a moment as his hands finish their slow journey over your back, neck, and arms. Then, his hands slide around you, wrapping gently across your middle. You let out a soft, contented sigh as you fully lean back against him. Sylus rests his chin against the top of your head as he adjusts to hold you more snugly, his breath tickling the crown of your head. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Your eyes flutter closed, and you know that his are likely closed too, the tension you sensed in him earlier replaced by a rare ease.

You shift slightly, turning your cheek to rest against his chest, and the subtle vibration of his breath hums beneath your skin. You rest your hands on his forearms, your thumbs to kneading gently into his muscles. He hums in approval, the low sound vibrating against you.

Sylus’ hands start to move, his palms gliding over your stomach, as they settle on the curve of your waist, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive dip of your sides. Your breath catches as his hands venture lower, skimming over your thighs. His fingers linger there, kneading the muscle with firm, expert precision, but your legs remain closed. A soft moan escapes your lips, and you feel Sylus’ breath against your neck as he leans forward. His lips press against the curve where your shoulder meets your neck, planting slow, languid kisses that send tingling warmth through you.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper. His hands shifting upward now, his fingers grazing just beneath the swell of your breasts, his touch featherlight, drawing another gasp from you.

Your heartbeat quickens as his hands finally move higher, cupping your breasts. His palms glide over the soft, wet skin, his thumbs circling your nipples in a way that makes you arch slightly against him, pressing into his chest. The combination of his teasing touch and the sensation of his lips against your neck leaves you utterly lost in the moment.

His lips trail higher, brushing against your jawline, before the warmth of Sylus' hands leaves your skin. His palms slide gently from your breasts before wrapping around your middle. He presses a kiss to your temple. "The water’s getting cold," he murmurs, his embrace tightening for just a moment.

You sigh, reluctant to leave the comfort of the tub and his embrace. "You’re right." you reply, your voice tinged with disappointment.

Sylus is the first to step out of the tub, water dripping down his toned physique as he offers you a hand. His grip is firm, steadying you as you rise, goosebumps spreading all over your wet skin. Your gaze unintentionally drops—and there it is. Your cheeks burn, and Sylus catches your look, a teasing smirk curling at his lips. “We’ll handle that later.” he says smoothly.

You bite your lip as you avert your gaze, heart fluttering as you grab a towel. After you dry off and pull on your bathrobe, the plush fabric warm against your skin, an idea pops into your head. Still slightly damp, you practically skip to your luggage bag.

Sylus watches you with a raised brow, leaning casually against the doorframe as he ties his robe around his waist. “What are you up to now?”

“Wait and see!” you say, as you unzip the bag and pull out the matching pajama set you’d hidden there—a playful, festive pattern of candy canes and gingerbread men. It smells faintly of your fabric softener, the scent wafting up as you hold it out to him.

Sylus takes the set from your hands, his eyes narrowing as he inspects the goofy design. He exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d pick something like this,”

“You’re wearing it,” you say firmly with a giddy smile.

With a mock sigh of resignation, Sylus slips into the pajamas, the soft fabric snug against his frame. You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, but he catches the gleam in your eyes.

“Laugh it up,” he says. "I’ll remember this.”

You grin unabashedly, slipping into your matching set before leading him out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen, eager to make mulled wine. Sylus opens the wine bottle while you gather the spices and a small pot. The two of you move seamlessly, your bodies brushing now and then as you prepare. The smell of cinnamon, cloves, and citrus soon fills the air, mixing with the aroma of red wine. As the wine simmers gently on the stove, Sylus excuses himself briefly, heading toward the living room. Moments later, the faint sound of a match striking is followed by the soft crackle of the fireplace. The warm scent of wood begins to fill the air, mingling with the spicy aroma of the mulled wine bubbling in the kitchen.

When he returns to the stove, you leave the kitchen to him and go around the other rooms, gathering every pillow and blanket you could find. Then you go to the living room where you arrange them into a cozy nest on the plush rug, settling everything just right by the fire. Satisfied with your work, you sit down and wrap yourself in one of the soft blankets, snuggling into it as you hold a well-loved box of Travel Size Kitty Cards in your hands.

When Sylus steps into the room carrying two steaming mugs of mulled wine, his lips quirk into an amused smile as he takes in the sight of you, warm and snug, holding the deck of cards. “Do you really want to spend the evening losing to me at this?”

“Losing?” You pout, shuffling the cards with more determination now. “You think you’re so good at this game, don’t you? Luck doesn’t count as skill.”

Sylus arches a brow. “Luck is a skill when you know how to use it.” He says as he sits across from you.

You roll your eyes, finishing the shuffle and placing the deck between you. “Alright, three rounds. I’ll win at least two, and when I do—” you lean forward with a cocky grin— “we’re buying matching reindeer onesies tomorrow.”

He shakes his head. “Reindeer onesies? That’s your wager?” He pauses, feigning deep contemplation, then leans closer. “Fine. But if I win, you’re wearing the gift I got you for the rest of the night.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at his words, your mind conjuring up images of delicate lace. You try to play it cool, though your blush betrays you, and you can’t quite meet his gaze. “Oh,” you murmur, “alright. Deal.”

His eyes catch every flicker of your expression. “You seem eager for me to win.”

You sigh, grabbing the deck of cards and start setting up the game. “Don’t get cocky, Sylus.” But as you focus on your hand, you find yourself secretly rooting for him, curious to see what he has picked out for you.

“Let’s see, then,” he murmurs, his voice rich with confidence as he picks up his cards. “Try to keep up.”

⋆⁺₊❅. ♡ ︎⋆⁺₊❅.

Sylus shakes his head as he gathers the cards, sliding them back into the little box, his smug grin never leaving his face.

"First round victory got you cocky," he teases. "And that, kitten, was your undoing."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. "The wine clouded my judgment," you huff, your tone a mix of irritation and playful defiance.

Sylus chuckles as he sets the box aside. "We both know that’s not true," he replies. "You’ve had, what? One mug? Hardly enough to make you lose focus. So, really… it’s just you."

His grin widens as he leans back on one hand, utterly at ease while you sit there pouting. The firelight catches in his eyes, and the smugness radiating off him is maddening.

You feel your cheeks flush—not just from the fire or the wine. He’s right; you’re not drunk. The wine has only left you feeling perfectly warm, relaxed and a little tingly. And, unfortunately, that buzz has also heightened your awareness of him—the way he’s watching you, the faint curve of his lips both infuriating and unbearably attractive. You grumble something unintelligible, sinking further into your blanket cocoon, but Sylus, with his insufferable smirk, isn’t about to let you escape the moment unscathed.

He rises gracefully from the rug and he strides toward the bedroom. You watch him go, the wine’s gentle buzz amplifying your anticipation.

What could it be?

Your first thought is lingerie—something delicate and lacy, designed to make you blush the moment you open it. A dress, perhaps? you wonder. But then you dismiss the idea with a shake of your head; Sylus has already gifted you a breathtaking dress for the holiday banquet earlier this season. Maybe it’s a ridiculous onesie, you think. A cat? A sheep? Something he’d insist you wear just to tease you mercilessly the entire night. The mental image makes your cheeks flush, not entirely from embarrassment—because, honestly, you’d probably wear it, just to see that rare, carefree laugh of his.

Before your thoughts spiral further, Sylus returns, with a small box in his hands. Your breath catches. The unmistakable blue hue and the satin white bow make your eyes widen. He settles down across from you, and holds the box out. His smiles softly. "One of the gifts I brought for you," he says. "I thought it fitting for the trip."

Your heart flutters as you accept the gift. You gently tug at the bow, setting aside the satin ribbon, and your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the lid of the box. Your smile stretches wide the moment you see the necklace nestled inside the box, a heart-shaped pendant glimmering in the room’s dim light. Joy bubbles up in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you lunge forward, wrapping Sylus in a tight hug.

"Thank you," you murmur against his shoulder.

His arms hold you firmly for a brief moment before you pull back just enough to plant a smooch on his lips, quick and filled with gratitude. He smiles against your lips, his hand brushing over your back before you settle back into your spot to admire the necklace again. You lift the chain, examining every detail of the stunning craftmanship. But as your eyes adjust to the dim light, you notice something different. Your brow furrows, and you tilt the pendant closer.

The usual engraving isn’t there.

Instead, in elegant script, you read: Please return to Onychinus N109 Zone.

Your heart flutters, the customization turning an already beautiful gift into something deeply personal.

Sylus notices your pause and leans forward slightly, his voice low and warm. "It felt more fitting this way."

You glance up at him, and all you can do is nod.

"Let me," he says softly, reaching for the necklace. You hand it to him, and he moves closer, draping the chain around your neck. His fingers brush against your skin as he fastens it, sending a small shiver down your spine. He leans back to admire his work, his eyes gleaming as they move from the pendant to your face.

"It suits you," he says.

"Thank you," you say again, your fingers brushing over the pendant, feeling its cool surface against your skin.

Sylus’ lips curl into a playful smirk as his gaze dips briefly to your outfit. "But those pajamas don’t really go with it."

You roll your eyes at the comment, but as you replay his words, you stop. Your eyes narrow in mock accusation. "Wait…"

Wear my gift for the rest of the night.

Your face heats, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coiling in your stomach as you glance down at the necklace. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the way his eyes haven’t left yours.

"I—" you start, but the words catch in your throat as he shifts closer to you.

Sylus’ hands move slowly to the hem of your pajama top, his fingertips delicately brushing against the fabric, his eyes locked on your face, waiting for your permission. Wordlessly, you lift your arms, and his lips quirk in a soft smile. He takes his time pulling the top over your head, the cool air of the room kissing your skin as it becomes bare. A shiver runs through you, goosebumps rising along your arms and chest as your pajama top is discarded.

"I’m going to be cold the rest of the night now," you pout, half-joking.

Sylus leans forward, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. When he pulls back, he whispers against your lips. "I’ll make sure you stay warm."

His words send a jolt of heat straight to your core as he guides you down, his weight pressing you into the soft blanket beneath. Your legs part instinctively, inviting him closer. Sylus hovers over you, his lips finding yours in a slow, intoxicating kiss. The faint taste of wine clings to him, rich and heady, as his tongue teases yours. Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him deeper, needing him closer. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your mouth as he rolls his hips, grinding his hardness against your craving heat.

The sudden pressure against your clothed pussy makes you gasp into his mouth, your body arching into him as you feel the hard length of him straining against the fabric of his pajamas. Sylus pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his red eyes dark with hunger, his lips slick and swollen from the kiss. The firelight flickers over his sharp features, making him look devastatingly irresistible. His hips roll against yours again, grinding just right, pulling a desperate gasp from your lips as heat pools deep in your core.

He leans in, his breath tickling your skin before he drags his lips slowly along your pulse, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that make your body arch into him. His tongue flicks over your skin, tasting you, the scrape of his teeth making you shiver beneath him.

He shifts slightly, his mouth traveling lower, trailing kisses down to your chest. A soft moan escapes your lips when his lips capture the peak of one breast. His tongue swirls around your nipple, teasing before he takes it into his mouth, sucking gently. At the same time, his fingers find your other breast, kneading it with care, his thumb circling the sensitive bud, the attention making you arch into his touch.

"Sylus," you whisper, his name tumbling from your lips as your fingers tangle in his hair again, holding him close to you.

He hums in response, the vibration adding to the sensation as his mouth continues savoring your body. His free hand skims down your side, tracing every curve, every dip, before settling at your waist. He releases your breast with a soft, wet sound, his lips immediately finding your belly. Then, his kisses trail lower, each press of his mouth against your skin making your impatience grow, but his hands steady your hips as his lips linger just above the waistband of your pajama pants.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. The way he looks at you—hungry, tender, and utterly devoted—makes your breath catch. The heat pooling between your thighs becomes unbearable, your panties damp with need as you writhe beneath him.

Finally, Sylus hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pajama pants and underwear, pulling them down in one smooth motion. His tongue darts out to wet his lips when he takes in the sight of you, bare and ready for him. Sylus starts slow, savoring every moment as his lips plant tender kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"You’re trembling," he murmurs, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider. "So responsive... so beautiful."

The warmth of his breath fans over your dripping pussy, teasing, as he lets his lips linger just close enough for you to feel the ghost of a touch. Finally, his mouth moves to where you need him most. His tongue flattens against your folds, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, making you gasp, your hips bucking instinctively toward his mouth. His tongue circles your clit, before his lips close around the swollen bundle of nerves, sucking gently at first, then harder as he finds the rhythm that makes your moans turn into cries.

One hand remains on your thigh, keeping you spread open for him, while the other slides up. His middle finger traces along your entrance, teasingly dipping in before retreating, then plunging back in, this time to the knuckle. He groans against your clit, as if the sensation of you gripping his finger drives him just as wild. He adds a second finger, his long digits stretching you, curling just right to press against your sweet spot. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers has you writhing beneath him, drawing you closer to the edge. His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds mixing with your breathless cries.

Your thighs quiver, and he knows you’re close - his fingers curl deeper, pressing harder against that perfect spot as his lips suck your clit relentlessly. Your orgasm rips through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Your walls clamp around his fingers as your body arches off the rug, your cries filling the room as the pleasure pulses through every inch of you. Sylus doesn’t stop, prolonging your high as his tongue and fingers coax every last tremor of pleasure from your body until you’re trembling, gasping his name in broken, desperate whines.

Finally, he slows, withdrawing his fingers and pressing one last lingering kiss to your oversensitive clit, his lips curling into a smug smile as he looks up at you, his chin glistening with your release.

"My beautiful girl," he whispers, as he kisses the inside of your thigh one last time before sitting up. "All mine."

He takes off his pajama shirt, and in one fluid motion, he pulls off his pajama bottoms, leaving him completely bare. Your breath hitches at the sight of him, his cock thick, long, and hard. His eyes lock onto yours as he leans down, positioning himself between your legs. You gasp softly as the tip of his cock glides through your folds, his length sliding back and forth, coating himself in your mixed fluids. The sensation alone has you trembling, your legs instinctively parting wider for him.

Then, slowly, he presses against your entrance, the thick head of his cock stretching you as he begins to slide in, his eyes locked on you as your body takes in every inch. When he bottoms out, he pauses, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried deep. The sensation of being so completely filled sends waves of pleasure radiating through your body, leaving you gasping. His weight shifts as he lowers himself onto his elbows, bringing your bodies closer, his chest brushing against yours. He captures your lips in a slow kiss, making your head spin. His hips start to move, rolling against you in a languid rhythm drawing soft moans from you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel more of him, your heels digging into his lower back. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, your fingers pressing into the taut muscles as he moves. His cock drags against your walls with each thrust, hitting spots that leave you gasping into his mouth. He swallows every sound, his kiss growing more feverent, his breath ragged as his body molds against yours. His hips grind against yours, his cock pressing deeper, harder, as you cling to him, your nails digging into his back.

Sylus’ pace begins to slow, his hips rolling more languidly as his lips break from yours.

“I need you closer.” he murmurs.

Without waiting for a response, he shifts his weight, one arm wrapping securely around your waist as he leans to the side, taking you with him. You gasp softly as your bodies roll together, your legs untangling briefly before one of his slips between yours.

Now on your sides, your bodies are pressed together so tightly you can feel his heartbeat. His arm stays snug around your waist, pulling you even closer, while his other hand cradles the back of your head. Your chest presses against his, and your hands rest against him, one lightly squished between your bodies. The other moves instinctively to his neck, your fingertips feeling his warmth, his pulse. Your leg hooks over his hip instinctively, granting him better access as his hips begin to move again.

The new angle makes you moan, his cock hitting even deeper, the angle forcing you to take all of him, and you clutch at his neck, your nails grazing his skin.

"My love." he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple as you press your face into his chest, overwhelmed by the closeness, the way he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your lips parting slightly. His eyes burn into yours, before his mouth captures yours in a deep, hungry kiss. The base of his cock presses perfectly against your clit with each thrust, the friction sending sparks of heat shooting through you. You’re helpless against the pleasure building inside, your breaths ragged and broken as his rhythm pushes you closer to the edge.

His hand on your back tightens, pulling you flush against him, the slick grind of his pelvis teasing that swollen, aching bud mercilessly. You arch into him, your nails digging into the hard muscle of his chest, and your gasps turn into needy, breathless cries.

“Just like that,” he rasps, his eyes stay locked on your face, devouring every flicker of pleasure that twists across your features. "Let me see you fall apart for me."

The way his cock fills you, stretching you with every roll of his hips, combined with the perfect pressure against your clit, is too much. Your body coils tighter, your thighs trembling where they’re hooked around his waist.

“Sylus…” you whimper, your voice trembling.

“Come for me,” he growls, one still cradling your head, the other pressing your back to him like he can’t stand even a breath of distance between you.

The tension inside you snaps, your body locks tight, your walls squeezing his cock with desperate intensity, milking him as a guttural moan escapes his throat. He thrusts into you harder, deeper, grinding his pelvis against your swollen clit, wringing every last pulse of pleasure from your throbbing pussy. Your cries fill the room, your entire body trembling in his arms. Sylus holds you through it all, his movements never faltering, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you as you ride out your high.

"That’s it." he murmurs tenderly, his gaze never leaving your face, memorizing the way you look in this moment—completely undone, completely his.

But he doesn’t stop - his hips keep rolling into you, his cock dragging against the oversensitive walls of your pussy, the friction is almost too much.

"You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice vibrating through his chest where you’re pressed tightly against him.

Your legs tremble, locked tight around his waist, keeping him buried deep. Sylus’ thrusts turn frantic, slamming into you harder, rougher, the sound of wet, filthy friction filling the room. His cock twitches inside you, driving deeper with every thrust.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost broken, as your name falls from his lips. His hand cups your face, fingers trembling as they stroke your cheek, grounding himself in the haze of his need.

His movements stutter, his cock throbbing, and with a guttural growl, he pushes into you one last time, spilling hot and thick cum inside you. His hips twitch helplessly, every pulse of his release sending a shudder through his body. He clings to you, forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged as he groans your name one last time.

His name escapes your lips in a soft, breathless moan, and he captures it in a searing kiss. The kiss slows as his movements still, the room filled with the sound of your mingled breathing and the faint crackle of the fire beside you. Sylus doesn’t pull away, his arms still wrapped around you, and you rest your head against his chest. His hands roam gently over your back and shoulders now, as if trying to soothe the tremble in your muscles. He kisses the top of your head before he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his fingertips grazing your cheek with a featherlight touch.

You nod with a soft smile.

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that feels entirely different from before—his mouth moves tenderly, as though memorizing the curve of your lips, savoring the taste, the warmth you offer. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin, grounding you both. When he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the stillness. His gaze, when it meets yours, is soft, filled with adoration. You could stay like this forever.

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus smut #sylus x you #sylus l&ds #lads smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace fanfic #sylus fanfic

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dreamauri · 27 days ago

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♪ — 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 𝗣𝗔𝗬 charles leclerc x girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . you take the opportunity to pay for dinner while Charles was distracted, he, of course, has to protest like an injured victorian woman in disbelief because what do you mean you paid? (0.4k)

( main master list | more of charles leclerc ) ( requests )

The two of you are curled on the couch, limbs tangled and blanket-draped, the TV casting soft light across Charles’s cheekbones while he’s too busy scrolling Deliveroo to notice your scheming.

“Pizza or Thai?” he mumbles, his voice already full of sleep and Monaco softness.

“Thai,” you say, leaning into him. “Craving spring rolls. And your spice tolerance is tragic.”

“I’m getting better!”

“You cried over medium spice last time.”

“It was emotional,” he pouts. “The rice was perfect.”

You giggle as he hands you the phone to confirm the order. “Okay, I’m getting my wallet, one sec—”

He slides off the couch, feet pat-patting toward the kitchen. It takes him all of six seconds.

Six seconds too long.

“Okay, here’s my card,” he says as he returns, holding it out like Simba at Pride Rock.

You glance up, already setting the phone down. “Oh, it’s done.”

He pauses mid-step. Blinks. “What?”

“I paid.”

“ . . . you what?”

“I already paid, Charles. It’s done.”

He freezes, staring at you like the app just cursed your firstborn.

“It’s done?” he echoes. “What do you mean it’s done? Is it free? Did they make it free for you?”

“No—”

“Then how is it DONE if I didn’t PAY?”

You burst out laughing as he kneels dramatically on the floor, still holding out the card like it might reverse time.

“I told you to wait!” he groans. “I was supposed to pay! It was my idea to order food!”

“You were too slow, Speed Racer.”

“I’m literally a professional driver! You cheated!”

You toss a cushion at him. He catches it, slumps over it like a fainting Victorian woman.

“This is humiliating,” he mutters into the couch. “I’m never going to financially recover from this.”

“It was thirty euros, Charles.”

“That’s not the point,” he says, crawling back onto the couch like a man defeated. “You’re my girlfriend. I am supposed to pay. I’m the one who spoils you. That is my job.”

You smirk, pulling him into your lap. “So let me spoil you for once.”

He grumbles something unintelligible against your hoodie.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“ . . . fine. But next time, I’m buying the entire menu. And dessert.”

“You always buy dessert.”

“I’m buying your future dessert cravings. All of them.”

You roll your eyes, kissing his forehead. “Deal. But only if you don’t cry over the spice level again.”

He lifts his head, utterly affronted. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

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syrecjh · 1 month ago

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─★ ˙ ̟🎀!! Kitchen Cuddles

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || husband katsuki bakugo x f!reader, pure fluff

˚₊˚✧🦩✧˖°🌷˚₊˚✧🦩✧˖°🌷˚₊˚✧🦩✧˖°🌷

The gentle sizzle of garlic in oil fills the kitchen, wrapping the room in warmth. You’re humming softly, swaying in rhythm with the bubbling pot, lost in your little world of simmering sauces and seasoned joy—until a familiar weight presses against your back.

Two strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against a firm chest that still smells faintly of smoke and spice. You smile without turning. No need to. You’d know his touch in a blackout.

“Smells like heaven,” katsuki's voice rumbles low in your ear, roughened from the cold outside and the stubbornness he carries like a second skin. His nose nuzzles into the slope of your shoulder, and his breath tickles your skin—warm, grounding.

You chuckle, keeping your hands steady as you stir. “The food or me?”

He answers without hesitation, lips brushing your neck. “Both. Obviously.” A pause. “Though if I had to choose, I’d starve for you.”

You blink. The sauce is suddenly forgotten.

“Who are you and what’ve you done with my husband?” you tease, turning slightly in his embrace, just enough to see the smirk forming on his lips—the one he only ever wears for you, soft-edged and slightly smug.

He shrugs, resting his chin on your shoulder now. “I’m hungry, alright? For your cooking, your smell, your voice—shit, I don’t know. Just... everything.”

You feel the way he relaxes into you, as if the whole world and its expectations melt away when he’s got you in his arms in a quiet kitchen, with the golden light casting halos around your shadows. His thumbs trace slow, absent-minded circles along your hips. Not for anything. Not to start something. Just because he can.

And then, softer—so soft you almost miss it:

“...You make the place feel like home.”

Your heart stutters. The wooden spoon drops into the pot with a gentle plop.

And when you finally turn to face him, cheeks flushed from more than just the stove’s heat, he leans in, and kisses you like he always does—like you’re a taste he’ll never get tired of.

˚₊˚✧🦩✧˖°🌷˚₊˚✧🦩✧˖°🌷˚₊˚✧🦩✧˖°🌷

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #boku no hero academia #bnha #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #x reader #fanfic x reader #fanfic #bakugo fluff #mha fluff #fluff

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bimbodolllll · 3 months ago

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۶ৎ The Girlfriend Effect!

۶ৎ auth: <3

۶ৎ Summary: The boyfriend effect; you adopt your boyfriends mannerisms. However, the girlfriend effect, they adopt what you do.

۶ৎ: drabbles | gender neutral reader | fluff

۶ৎ Characters Included: Manjiro “Mikey” Sano, Ken “Draken” Ryuguji, Keisuke Baji, Chifuyu Matsuno, Kazutora Hanemiya, Izana Kurokawa, Nahoya “Smiley” Kawata, Souya “Angry” Kawata, Takashi Mitsuya, Hajime Kokonoi

۶ৎ Manjiro “Mikey” Sano

• Style Upgrade: Starts wearing cleaner, more polished outfits. He never cared much before, but now his clothes are less wrinkled, and he smells faintly of vanilla and fresh laundry.

• Emotional Maturity: Slowly learns to communicate better, though he still struggles with opening up completely. Your patience teaches him that being vulnerable doesn’t mean weakness.

• Healthier Habits: Starts eating more than just junk food because you remind him he needs proper meals.

—

Mikey sat on the couch, legs sprawled, watching you move around the kitchen. He had a plate of curry in front of him—a meal you made, light on the spice because he hated too much heat.

“Y’know,” he mumbled between bites, “I don’t even like curry that much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So why’s the plate almost empty?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged, looking away. But you caught it—the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. “It just tastes better when you make it.”

۶ৎ Ken “Draken” Ryuguji

• Style Upgrade: His hair stays neat, and he’s more mindful of keeping his tank tops clean. He even switches to cologne instead of relying on the scent of motor oil.

• Ambition Boost: Becomes more serious about expanding the shop because he wants stability for the future.

• Better Communication: He starts explaining his feelings more instead of bottling them up, thanks to your influence.

—

Draken stood beside his bike, wiping the grease off his hands. You watched him, arms crossed, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What?” He smirked, but there was a softness in his eyes.

“Did you… clean the garage?”

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “Thought it was about time. Can’t have you breathing in dust every time you come around.”

You tilted your head. “Since when do you care about dust?”

“Since you started coming by.” His voice was quieter now, almost shy. “Can’t have my girl dealin’ with all that.”

۶ৎ Keisuke Baji

• Style Upgrade: He still wears his leather jacket, but now it’s less ripped, and his boots aren’t caked in mud. He’ll never admit it, but he likes when you compliment how he looks.

• Healthier Habits: He cuts back on junk food (a little) because you nag about it.

• Emotional Maturity: Learns not to blow up when things go wrong, trying to stay calm because he knows you hate yelling.

—

Baji leaned against his bike, arms crossed, waiting for you after class. His usual wild grin softened when he spotted you.

“Yo.” He handed you a drink, your favorite.

“Since when do you remember what I like?” You teased, taking a sip.

“Since I started actually listening,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t make a big deal outta it, okay?”

But the way his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual? That said everything.

۶ৎ Chifuyu Matsuno

• Style Upgrade: He switches from mismatched outfits to more coordinated ones—sometimes even matching your color palette without realizing it.

• Ambition Boost: Becomes more serious about managing the pet shop, thinking about the long-term future.

• Better Communication: Learns to be more honest about his feelings, not just brushing things off.

—

Chifuyu stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his hoodie. You leaned against the doorframe, watching with an amused smile.

“New fit?”

“Uh… yeah.” He glanced at you, cheeks flushing slightly. “Figured I should stop looking like I just threw on whatever I found.”

You stepped closer, fingers brushing over his sleeve. “Trying to impress someone?”

“Maybe.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the look in his eyes told you exactly who.

۶ৎ Kazutora Hanemiya

• Style Upgrade: Starts wearing softer colors because you told him he looked good in them.

• Healthier Habits: He’s more mindful of sleeping enough and eating better because you’re always worried about him.

• Emotional Maturity: Learns to control his impulsive outbursts, wanting to be a calmer version of himself for you.

—

Kazutora sat beside you, his head resting on your shoulder as you scrolled through your phone.

“Hey,” you murmured, “you’ve been quiet.”

“Just… thinking.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“About what?”

“About how… I’m lucky you stuck around.” His fingers brushed lightly against yours, his grip hesitant. “I’m trying, y’know? To be… better.”

And he was.

۶ৎ Izana Kurokawa

• Style Upgrade: Starts paying more attention to how he looks, favoring neutral tones that complements your outfits.

• Better Communication: He opens up about his fears and insecurities, something he never thought he’d do.

• Ambition Boost: He works harder to stabilize Tenjiku, not just for power but to build something stable for the both of you.

—

Izana stood by the window, staring out at the city below. You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his back.

“Lost in thought again?”

“Just… thinking about the future.” His voice was distant, but there was a softness in it.

“You’re not alone in that anymore, you know.”

His hand found yours, squeezing gently. “I know. That’s why I want to make sure… it’s a future you’d want, too.”

۶ৎ Nahoya “Smiley” Kawata

• Style Upgrade: His clothes get a little less chaotic, matching his accessories to his outfits (sometimes).

• Emotional Maturity: He learns to read the room better, understanding when to dial down the jokes.

• Healthier Habits: He cuts back on staying up all night because you nag him about taking care of himself.

—

Nahoya sat beside you, legs stretched out in front of him.

“Yo,” he nudged you lightly, “notice anything different?”

You glanced at him, noticing his shirt wasn’t as wrinkled, and his nails were… clean?

“You… took care of yourself?”

“Figured I’d start lookin’ decent since I’m always standing next to a goddess.” He winked, but there was a hint of sincerity behind the playful grin.

۶ৎ Souya “Angry” Kawata

• Style Upgrade: Starts wearing softer fabrics because you said they feel nice when you hug him.

• Better Communication: He opens up about his emotions more instead of bottling them up.

• Healthier Habits: He starts drinking more water and taking vitamins because you remind him.

—

Souya sat at the kitchen table, quietly sipping the tea you made for him.

“Did you… put honey in this?”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly. “It’s good for your throat.”

He glanced away, cheeks slightly flushed. “Thanks… I, uh, started taking those vitamins you gave me, too.”

You blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” His eyes met yours, softer than usual. “You… worry about me too much. I don’t wanna make you worry more.”

۶ৎ Takashi Mitsuya

• Style Upgrade: Starts incorporating subtle hints of your favorite colors into his designs.

• Ambition Boost: He becomes more focused on expanding his brand, wanting to create a future where you’re both secure.

• Emotional Maturity: He becomes more expressive, showing affection in quieter, meaningful ways.

—

Mitsuya sat at his sewing machine, fabric draped across his lap.

“What’s that?” You leaned over, curiosity piqued.

“Something… for you.” He didn’t meet your gaze, but the blush on his cheeks was impossible to miss.

“For me?”

“Yeah.” He finally looked up, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Wanted to make sure you had something that… reminds you of me.”

۶ৎ Hajime Kokonoi

• Style Upgrade: He starts wearing softer tones that match your style, even ditching all-black sometimes.

• Ambition Boost: His business ventures become more personal, focusing on stability rather than just money.

• Emotional Maturity: He learns to prioritize love over material gain, valuing your presence more than anything.

—

Kokonoi sat across from you at the café, his usual suit replaced with a sweater in a soft shade of cream.

“New look?” You teased, eyeing him with a raised brow.

“Maybe.” He sipped his coffee, avoiding your gaze. “Figured… I should try something different.”

“Because of me?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Because I want to be someone… who fits into your world.”

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